Classic Audiobook Collection - The Chouans by Honore de Balzac ~ Full Audiobook [history]

Episode Date: July 20, 2023

The Chouans by Honore de Balzac audiobook. Genre: history Set in the wild, hedgerowed countryside of Brittany in 1799, The Chouans throws the listener into the last violent aftershocks of the French Revolution. The Republic is fighting to stamp out a Royalist guerrilla uprising, and every road, inn, and village chapel can hide an ambush. Into this tense landscape comes Marie de Verneuil, a captivating young woman tied to the Parisian authorities and sent on a delicate mission: to draw close to the feared insurgent leader, the Marquis de Montauran, and help bring his rebellion to an end. But Montauran is no simple villain; he is a charismatic commander caught between honor, duty, and survival, while Republican strategist Hulot and shadowy police agents tighten the net around the countryside. As Marie moves through a world of coded loyalties and sudden violence, politics and passion collide, and private desires threaten to undo public plans. Balzac blends battlefield suspense with intimate psychological drama, exploring how love, ambition, and ideology can turn allies into enemies and make truth a weapon in a fractured nation. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:38:48) Chapter 02 (01:12:03) Chapter 03 (01:52:00) Chapter 04 (02:19:39) Chapter 05 (02:50:54) Chapter 06 (03:21:23) Chapter 07 (03:56:53) Chapter 08 (04:24:15) Chapter 09 (04:54:44) Chapter 10 (05:31:51) Chapter 11 (06:09:20) Chapter 12 (06:53:20) Chapter 13 (07:28:27) Chapter 14 (07:56:35) Chapter 15 (08:27:10) Chapter 16 (09:00:43) Chapter 17 (09:39:04) Chapter 18 (10:09:38) Chapter 19 (10:38:11) Chapter 20 (11:17:29) Chapter 21 (11:52:55) Chapter 22 (12:18:32) Chapter 23 (13:02:51) Chapter 24 (13:31:06) Chapter 25 (14:00:31) Chapter 26 (14:27:30) Chapter 27 (14:47:56) Chapter 28 (15:20:34) Chapter 29 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Shouans, or Brittany in 1799, by Honoré de Bozac, translated by Ellen Marriage. Chapter 1A. The Ambuscade In the early days of the year eight, at the beginning of von der Meier, or towards the end of the month of September 1799, reckoning by the present calendar, some hundred peasants and a fair number of townspeople who had set out from Fugier in the morning to go to Marienne were climbing the mountain of the Pelerine, which lies about halfway between Fugier and Erne, a little place where travelers are wont to break their journey. The detachment, divided up into larger and smaller groups, presented as a whole such an

outlandish collection of costumes and brought together individuals belonging to such widely different neighborhoods and callings, that it may be worthwhile to describe their various characteristics, and in this way impart to the narrative the lifelike coloring that is so highly valued in our day, although, according to certain critics, this is a hindrance to the portrayal of sentiments. Some of the peasants, most of them, in fact, went barefoot. Their whole clothing consisted in a large goat-skin. which covered them from shoulder to knee, and breeches of very coarse white cloth woven

of uneven threads that bore witness to the neglected state of local industries. Their long matted locks mingled so habitually with the hairs of their goat-skin cloaks, and so completely hid the faces that they bent upon the earth, that the goat's skin might have been readily taken for a natural growth, and at first sight the miserable wearers could hardly be distinguished from the animals whose hide now served them for a garment. But very shortly a pair of bright eyes peering through the hair, like drops of dew shining in thick grass, spoke of a human intelligence within, though the expression of the eyes certainly inspired more fear than pleasure. Their heads were covered with dirty red woollen bonnets,

very like the Phrygian caps that the Republic in those days had adopted as a symbol of liberty. Each carried a long wallet made of sacking over his shoulder at the end of a thick, knotty oak cudgel. There was not much in the wallets. Others wore above their caps a great broad-brimmed felt hat, with a band of woolen shonele of various colors about the crown, and these were clad altogether in the same coarse linen cloth that furnished the wallets and breaches of the first group. There was scarcely a trace of the new civilization in their dress.

Their long hair straggled over the collar of a round jacket which reached barely to the hips, a garment peculiar to the western peasantry with little square side pockets in it. Beneath this open-fronted jacket was a waistcoat, fastened with big buttons, and made of the same cloth. Some wore sabos on the march, others thriftily carried them in their hands. Soiled with long wear, blackened with dust and sweat, this costume had one distinct merit of its own, for if it was less original than the one first described, it represented a period of history. transition that ended in the almost magnificent apparel of a few men who shone out like flowers in the midst of the company.

Their red or yellow waistcoats decorated with two parallel rows of copper buttons like a sort of oblong queer ass, and their blue linen breeches stood out in vivid contrast to the white clothing and skin cloaks of their comrades. They looked like poppies and cornflowers in a field of wheat. Some few of them were shod with the wooden sabots that the Breton peasants make for themselves, but most of them wore great iron-bound shoes and coats of very coarse material, shaped after the old French fashion to which our peasants still cling religiously. Their shirt collars were fastened by silver studs with designs of an anchor or a heart upon

them, and finally their wallets seemed better stocked than those of their comrades. Some of them even included a flask, filled with brandy, no doubt, in their traveller's outfit, hanging it round their necks by a string. A few townspeople among these semi-barbarous folk looked as if they marked the extreme limits of civilization in those regions. Like the peasants, they exhibited conspicuous differences of costume, some wearing round bonnets and some flat or peaked caps, some had high boots with the tops turned down, some wore shoes surmounted by gaiters.

Ten or so of them had put themselves into the jacket known to the Republicans as a Carmagnol. Others, again, well-to-do artisans, doubtless, were dressed from head to foot in materials of uniform color, and the most elegantly arrayed of them all wore swallow-tailed coats or riding coats of blue or green cloth in more or less threadbare condition. These last, moreover, wore boots of various patterns, as became people of consequence, flourished large canes like fellows who face their luck with a stout heart. A head carefully powdered here and there, or decently plated cues, showed the desire to make the most of ourselves, which is inspired in us by a new turn taken in our fortunes or our education.

Anyone seeing these men brought together as if by chance, and astonished at finding themselves assembled, might have thought that a conflagration had driven the population of a little town from their homes, but the times and the place made this body of men interesting for very different reasons. A spectator initiated into the secrets of the civil discords, which then were rending France, would have readily picked out the small number of citizens in that company upon whose loyalty the Republic could depend, for almost everyone who composed it had taken part against the government in the war of four years ago. One last distinguishing characteristic left, no doubt whatever, as to the divided opinions of the body of men.

The Republicans alone were in spirits as they marched. As for the rest of the individuals that made up the band, obviously as they might differ in their dress, one uniform expression was visible on all faces and in the attitude of each, the expression which misfortune gives. The faces of both townspeople and peasants bore the stamp of deep dejection. There was something sullen about the silence they kept. All of them were bowed, apparently, beneath the yoke of the same thought, a terrible thought, no doubt, but carefully hidden away.

Every face was inscrutable. The unwonted lagging of their steps alone could betray a secret understanding. A few of them were marked out by a rosary that hung round about their necks, although they ran some risks by keeping about them this sign of a faith that had been suppressed rather than uprooted. And one of these, from time to time, would shake back his hair and defiantly raise his head. Then they would furtively scan the woods, the footpaths, and the crags that shut in the road on either side, much as a dog sniffs the wind as he tries to scent the game. But as they only heard the monotonous sound of the steps of their mute comrades, they hung their heads again with the forlorn faces of convicts on their way to the galleys where they are now to live and die.

The advance of this column upon Mayenne, composed as it was of such heterogeneous elements and representing such widely different opinions, was explained very readily by the presence of another body of troops which headed the detachment. About 150 soldiers were marching at the head of the column under the command of the chief of a demi-brigade. It may not be unprofitable to explain, for those who have not witnessed the drama of the revolution, that this appellation was substituted for the title of Colonel, then rejected by Patriots as too aristocratic. The soldiers belonged to a demi-bricade of infantry stationed in the depot at Mayenne. In those disturbed times, the soldiers of the Republic were all dubbed blue's by the population of the West. The blue and red uniforms of the early days of the

Republic, which are too well remembered even yet to require description, had given rise to this nickname. So the detachment of blues was serving as an escort to this assemblage, consisting of men who were nearly all ill-satisfied at being thus directed upon Mayenne, there to be submitted to a military discipline which must shortly clothe them all alike, and drill a uniformity into their march and ways of thinking, which was at present entirely lacking among them. This column was the contingent of Fugier, obtained thence with great difficulty, and representing its share of the levee, which the Directory of the French Republic.

had required by a law passed on the tenth day of the previous Messiodor. The government had asked for a subsidy of a hundred millions, and for a hundred thousand men, so as to send reinforcements at once to their armies, then defeated by the Austrians in Italy and by the Prussians in Germany, while Savarov, who had aroused Russia's hopes of making a conquest, of France menaced them from Switzerland. Then it was that the Departments of the West known as La Vande, Brittany, and part of Lower Normandy, which had been pacified three years ago by the efforts of Genera Osh after four years

of hard fighting, appeared to think that the moment had come to renew the struggle. Attacked thus in so many directions, the Republic seemed to be visited. with the return of her early vigor. At first, the defense of the departments thus threatened had been entrusted to the patriotic residence by one of the provisions of that same law of Messidor. The government, as a matter of fact, had neither troops nor money available for the prosecution of civil warfare, so the difficulty was evaded by a bit of bombast on the part of the legislature. They could do nothing for the revolted districts, so they reposed complete confidence in them.

Perhaps also they expected that this measure, by setting the citizens at odds among themselves, would extinguish the rebellion at its source. Free companies will be organized in the Departments of the West, so ran the proviso which brought about such dreadful retaliation. This impolitic ordinance drove the West into so hostile an attitude that the Directory had no hope left of subduing it all at once. In a few days, therefore, the assemblies were asked for particular enactments with regard to the slight reinforcements due by virtue of the proviso that had authorized the formation of the free companies. So a new law had been proclaimed a few days before this story begins, and came into effect on the third complementary day of the calendar in the year eight, ordaining that these scanty levies of men should be organized into regiments. The regiments were to bear the names of the departments of the Sart, Urt, Urt, Mayenne, Il and Villene, Morbillon, Loire Inferior,

and Man-E-Lois. These regiments, so the law provided, are specially enrolled to oppose the Shouans and can never be drafted over the frontiers on any pretext whatsoever. These tedious but little-known particulars explain at once the march of the body of men under escort by the Blues, and the weakness of the position in which the directory found themselves. So, perhaps it is not irrelevant to add that these beautiful and patriotic intentions of theirs came no further on the road to being carried out than their insertion in the Bulletin de Lois.

The decrees of the Republic had no longer the forces of great moral ideas of patriotism or of terror behind them. had been the causes of their former practical efficiency, so now they created men and millions on paper, which never found their way into the army or the treasury. The machinery of the revolutionary government was directed by incapable hands, and circumstances made impression on the administration of the law instead of being controlled by it. The departments of Mayenne and Ile-Evelin were then in command of an experienced officer, who, being on the spot, determined that now was the opportune moment for arranging to draw his

contingence out of Brittany, and more particularly from Fugier, which was one of the most formidable centers of Shuan operations, hoping, in this way, to diminish the strength of these districts from which danger threatened. This devoted veteran availed himself of the delusive provisions of the law to proclaim that he would at once arm and equip the requisitionaries and that he held in hand for their benefit a month's pay which the government had promised to these irregular forces. Although Brittany declined to every kind of military service at that time,

this plan of operations succeeded at the first start on the faith of the promises made, and so readily that the officer began to grow uneasy. But he was an old watchdog, and not easily put off his guard, so that as soon as he saw a portion of his contingent hurrying to the Bureau of the district, he suspected that there was some hidden motive for this rapid, influx of men, and perhaps he had guessed rightly when he believed that their object was to procure arms for themselves. Upon this he took measures to secure his retreat upon Alonsohn without waiting for the later

arrivals. He wished to be within call of the better affected districts, though even there the continual spread of the insurrection made the success of his plans. extremely problematical. In obedience to his instructions, he had kept the news of the disasters that had befallen our armies abroad, a profound secret, as well as the disquieting tidings that came from Lavande. And on the morning, when this story begins, he had made an effort to reach Mayenne by a forced

march. Once there, he thought to carry out the law as to. his leisure, and to fill up the gaps in his demi-brigade with Breton conscripts. That word conscript, which became so well known later on, had replaced for the first time, in the wording of the law, the term requisitionary, by which the Republican recruits had at first been described. Before leaving Fugier, the commandant had made his own troops, surreptitiously, take charge of all the cartridge boxes and rations of bread belonging to the entire body of men,

so that the attention of the conscripts should not be called to the length of the journey. He had made up his mind to call no halt on the way to Arnais. The schoens doubtless were abroad in the district, and the men of his new contingent, once recovered from their surprise, might enter into concerted action with them. A sullen silence prevailed among the band of requisitionaries who had been taken aback by the old Republican's tactics, and this, taken with their lagging gait as they climbed the mountainside,

increased to the highest pitch the anxiety of the commandant of the demi-brigade, Ullo by name. was keenly interested in noting those marked characteristics, which I've been previously described, and was walking in silence among five subaltern officers who all respected their chief's preoccupied mood. As Ullo reached the summit of the Pelerin, however, he instinctively turned his head to examine the restless faces of the requisitionaries, and forthwith broke the silence. As a matter of fact, the Bretons had been moving more and more slowly, and already they had put an interval of some 200 paces between them and their escort.

Ullo made a sort of grimace peculiar to him at this. What the devil is the matter with the ragamuffins, he cried in the deep tones of his voice. Instead of stepping out, these conscripts of ours have their legs glued together, I think. At these words the officers who were with him turned to look behind them, acting on an impulse like that which makes us wake with a start at some sudden noise. The sergeants and corporals followed their example, and the whole company came to a standstill without waiting for the wished-for word of command to halt. If, in the first place, the officers gave a glance over the detachment that was

slowly crawling up the pelarine, like an elongated tortoise, they were sufficiently struck with the view that spread itself out before their eyes to leave Ullo's remark unanswered, its importance not being at all appreciated by them. They were young men who, like many others, had been torn away from learned studies to defend their country, and the art of war had not yet extinguished the love of other arts in them. Although they were coming from Fugier, whence the same picture that now lay before their eyes could be seen equally well, they could not help admiring it again for the last time with all the differences that the change in the point of view had made in it.

were not unlike those dilettante who take more pleasure in a piece of music for a closer knowledge of his details. From the heights of the Pelerine, the wide valley of the Cuenin extends before the traveller's eyes. The town of Fugier occupies one of the highest points on the horizon. From the high rock on which it is built, the castle commands three or four important ways of communication, a position which formerly made it one of the keys of Brittany. From their point of view, the officers saw the whole length and breadth of this basin,

which is as remarkable for its marvellously fertile soil as for the varied scenery it presents. The mountains of schist rise above it on all sides, as in an amphitheater. The warm colouring of their sides is disguised by the oak. forests upon them, and little cool valleys lie concealed in their slopes. The crags describe a wall about an apparently circular enclosure, and in the depths below them lies a vast stretch of delicate meadowland laid out like an English garden. A multitude of irregularly shaped quick-set hedges surrounds the numberless domains, and trees are planted everywhere, so that this green carpet presents an appearance not often seen

in French landscapes. Unsuspected beauty lies hidden in abundance among its manifold shadows and lights, and effects strong and broad enough to strike the most indifferent nature. At this particular moment, the stretch of country was brightened by a fleeting glory such as nature loves at times to use, to heighten the grandeur of her imperishable creations. All the while that the detachment was crossing the valley, the rising sun had slowly scattered the thin white mists that hover above the fields in September mornings, and now, when the soldiers looked back, an invisible hand seemed to raise the last of the veils that had

covered the landscape. The fine, delicate clouds were like a transparent gauze and shrouding precious jewels that lie exciting our curiosity behind it. All along the wide stretch of horizon that the officers could see there was not the lightest cloud in heaven to persuade them by its silver brightness that that great blue vault above them was really the sky. It was more like a silken canopy held up. by the uneven mountain peaks and borne aloft to protect this wonderful combination of field and plain and wood and river

the officers did not weary of scanning that extent of plain which gave rise to so much beauty of field and wood some of them looked hither and thither for long before their gaze was fixed at last on the wonderful diversity of colour in the woods where the soberly The fewer hues of groups of trees that were turning sear brought out more fully the richer hues of the bronze foliage, a contrast heightened still further by irregular indentations of emerald-green meadow. Others dwelt on the warm coloring of the fields, with their cone-shaped stooks of buckwheat, piled up like sheaves of arms that soldiers make in a bivouac, and the opposing hues of the fields of rye that were interspersed among them, all golden with stumble after the harvest. There was a dark-colored slate roof here and there, with a white smoke ascending from it,

and here again a bright silvery streak of some winding bit of the Cuenot, enau, would attract the gaze, a snare for the eyes which follow it, and so lead the soul all unconsciously into vague musings. The fresh fragrance of the light autumn wind and the strong forest scents came up like an intoxicating incense for those who stood admiring this beautiful country and saw with delight its strange wildflowers and the vigorous green growth that makes it a rival of the neighboring land of Britain, the country which bears the same name in common with it. A few cattle gave life to the scene that was already full of dramatic interest. The birds were singing, giving to the breezes in the valley a soft, low vibration of music.

If the attentive imagination will discern to the utmost the splendid effects of the lights and shadows, the misty outlines of the hills, the unexpected distant views afforded in places where there was a gap among the trees, a broad stretch of water, or the coy swiftly winding courses of streams. If memory fills in, so to speak, these outlines, brief as the moment that they represent, then those for whom these pictures possess a certain worth will form a dim idea of the enchanting scene that came as a surprise to the yet impressionable minds of the young officers.

They thought that these poor creatures were leaving their own country and their beloved customs in sadness in order to die, perhaps, on foreign soil, and instinctively forgave them for a reluctance which they well understood. Then with a kindness of heart natural to soldiers they disguised their complacence under the appearance of a wish to study the lovely landscape from a military point of view. But Ullo, for the commandant must be called by his name, to avoid his scarcely euphonious title of chief of demi-brigade, was not the kind of soldier who is smitten with the charms of scenery at a time when danger is at hand, even if the Garden of Eden were to lie before him.

him. He shook his head disapprovingly, and his thick black eyebrows were contracted, giving a very stern expression to his face. Why the devil don't they come along? He asked for the second time, in a voice that had grown hoarse with many a hard campaign. Is there some holy virgin or other in the village whose hand they want to squeeze? you want to know why a voice replied the sounds seemed to come from one of the horns with which herdsmen in these dales call their cattle together the commandant wheeled round at the words as sharply as if he had felt a prick from a sword-point and saw two paces from him a queerer-looking being than any of those now on the way to my end to serve the republic the stranger was a broad-shouldered thick-set man his head looked almost as large as that of a bull and was not unlike it in other respects his wide thick nostrils made his nose seem shorter than it really was his thick lips turned up to display a snowy set of teeth

Long lashes bristled round the large black eyes, and he had a pair of drooping ears and red hair that seemed to belong rather to some root-eating race than to the noble Caucasian stock. There was an entire absence of any other characteristics of civilized man about the bare head, which made it more remarkable still. His face might have been turned to bronze by the sun. Its angular outlines suggested a remote resemblance to the granite rocks that formed the underlying soil of the district, and his face was the only discernible portion of the body of this strange being. From his neck downwards he was enveloped in a kind of smock-frock or blouse of a coarse kind of material, much rougher than that of which the poorest conscripts' breeches were made. This smock-frock or saro, in which an antiquary would have recognized the sye, saga, or sallon of the Gauls, reached only halfway down his person, where his nether integuments of goat's skin were fastened to it by wooden skewers, so roughly cut that the bark was not removed from all of them.

It was scarcely possible to distinguish a human form in the goat skins, so they called them in the district, which completely covered his legs and thighs. His feet were hidden by huge sabots. His long, sleek hair, very near the color of the skins he wore, was parted in the middle and fell on either side of his face, much as you see it arranged in some medieval statues still existing in cathedrals. Instead of the naughty cudgel with which the conscripts slung their wallets from their shoulders, he was hugging a large whip to his breast, like a gun, a whip with a cleverly plated thong that seemed quite twice the usual length. The sudden appearance of this quaint being seemed reddened,

explicable, at the first sight of him, several officers took him for a conscript or requisitionary, both of these terms were still in use, who had seen the halt made by the column and had fallen in with it. Nevertheless, the man's arrival amazed the commandant, strangely, for although there was not the slightest trace of alarm about him, he grew thoughtful. After a survey of the newcomer, he repeated his question mechanically, as if he were preoccupied with sinister thoughts. Yes, why don't they come up?

Do you happen to know? His surly interlocutor answered with an accent which showed that he found it sufficiently difficult to express himself in French. Because, he said, stretching out his big rough hand to towards Arnais, there lies men, and here, Brittany ends, and he struck the ground heavily as he threw down the handle of his whip at the commandant's feet. If a barbarous tom-tom were suddenly struck in the middle of a piece of music, the impression produced would be very like the effect made upon the spectators of this scene by the stranger's concise speech. That word speech will hardly give an idea of the hatred, the thirst for vengeance, expressed in the scornful gesture and the brief word or two, or of the fierce and stern energy in the speaker's face. The extreme roughness of the man, who looked as though he had been hewn into shape by an axe, his gnarled skin, the lines of ignorant stupidity graven in every day.

feature, gave him the look of a savage divinity. As he stood there in his prophetic attitude, he looked like an embodied spirit of that Brittany which had just awakened from a three years' sleep to begin a struggle once more in which victory could never show her face, save through a double veil of crape. There's a pretty image, said Ullo to himself, to mom. mind, he looks like an envoy from folk who are about to open negotiations with powder and ball. When he had muttered these words between his teeth, the commandant's eyes travelled from the man before him over the landscape, from the landscape to the detachment, from the detachment

over the steep slopes on either side of the way with the tall gorse bushes of Brittany shading their summits, and thence he suddenly turned upon the stranger, whom he submitted to a mute examination, ending it at last by asking him sharply, where do you come from? His keen piercing eyes were trying to read the secret thoughts behind the inscrutable face before him, a face which had meantime resumed the usual expression of vacuous stolidity that envelopes a peasant's face in repose. From the country of Lagar, the man answered, without a trace of apprehension. Your name?

Marsh Atterre. What makes you call yourself by Ershua nickname? It is against the law. Marshaetre, as he called himself, gaped at the commandant with such a thoroughly genuine appearance of imbecility that the soldier thought his remark was not understood. Are you part of the Fugier requisition? To this question, Marcia Tere replied with an, I don't know, in that peculiarly hopeless fashion

which puts a stop to all conversation. He sat himself down quietly at the roadside, drew from his blouse some slices of a thin, dark bannock made of buckwheat meal, the staple food of Brittany, a melancholy diet in which only a Breton can take delight, and began to eat with wooden imperturbability. He looked so absolutely devoid of every kind of intelligence that the officers compared him, as he sat, first to one of the cattle browsing in the pasture land below, next to an American Indian and last to some aboriginal savage at the Cape of Good Hope.

Even the commandant himself was deceived by his attitude, and heeded his fears no longer, till, by way of making assurance surer still, he gave a last glance at the suspected herald of an approaching massacre, and noticed that his hair, his blouse, and his goat-skin breeches were covered with thorns, bits of wood, scraps of brambles. and leaves, as if the shuan had come through the thickets for a long distance. He looked significantly at his adjutant Gerard, who was standing beside him, gripped his hand and said in a low voice, We went out to look for wool, and we shall go back again shorn. The astonished officers eyed one another in silence.

End of Section 1. Section 2 of the Schuanns by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Alan Marage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Read by Bruce Peary. Chapter 1B. Here we must digress a little, so that those stay-at-home people who are accustomed to believe nothing because they never see anything for themselves, may be induced to sympathize with the fears of the commandant below, for these people would be capable of denying the existence

of a marcheterre and of the Western peasants who behaved with such heroism in those times. The word G-A-R-S, pronounced G-A-R-S, is a relic of the Celtic tongue. It passed into French from the Bar-Bretton, and of all words in the language that we speak today in France, this one preserves the oldest traditions. The Gaix was the principal weapon of the Gaels or Gauls. Guédé meant armed, Ge'a meant valor, and ga force. The close similarity proves that the word ga is connected with these expressions in the language of our ancestors. The word corresponds to the Latin word weir, a man, the significance at the root

of weirtus, strength or courage. The apology for this dissertation lies in the fact that the word is a part of our national history, and this possibly may reinstate such words as gau, garson, garsonette, garse, garcette, in the good graces of some persons who, banish them from all conversation as uncouth expressions. They come of a warlike origin for all that, and will turn up now and again in the course of this narrative. "'Settun famozee' was the little appreciated eulogium which Madame de Staal received in a little canton of the Vandomois, where she spent some of her days in exile. The Gaul has left deeper traces of his character in Brittany than in all the rest of France.

Those parts of the province where the wild life and superstitious spirit of our rough ancestors are glaringly evident, so to speak, even in our day, were called the Pei de Ga. When the population of a district consists of a number of uncivilized people, like those who have just been collected together in the opening scene, the folk roundabout in the countryside call them the gah of such and such a parish, which classical epithet is a sort of reward for the loyalty of their efforts to preserve the traditions of their Celtic language and customs. In their daily lives, moreover, there are deep traces of the superstitious beliefs and practices

of ancient times. Feudal customs are even yet respected. Antiquaries find druidical monuments there, and the spirit of modern civilization hesitates to traverse those fast tracts of primeval forest. There is an incredible ferocity and a dogged obstinacy about the national character, but an oath is religiously kept. Our law is customs and dress, our modern coinage and our language, are utterly unknown among them. And if, on the one hand, their combination of patriarchal simplicity and heroic virtues makes them less apt at projecting complicated schemes than Mohicans or North American redskins, on the other hand, they are as magnanimous, as hardy and as shrewd.

The fact that Brittany is situated in Europe makes it very much more interesting than Canada. It is surrounded by enlightenment, but the beneficent warmth never penetrates it. The country is like some frozen piece of coal that lies a dim black mass in the heart of a blazing fire. The attempts made by some shrewd heads to make this large portion of France with its undeveloped up to resources, amenable, to give it social life and prosperity, had failed. Even the efforts of the government had come to nothing among a stationary people wedded to the usages prescribed by immemorial tradition.

The natural features of the country offer a sufficient explanation of this misfortune. The land is furrowed with ravines and torrents, with lakes and marshes. It bristles with hedges, as they call a sort of earthwork or fortification that makes a citadel of every field. There are neither roads nor canals, and the temper of an ignorant population must be taken into account, a population given over to prejudices that cause dangers to which this story will bear witness.

A population that will use none of our modern methods of agriculture. The picturesque nature of the country and the superstitions of its inhabitants both preclude the aggregation of individuals and the consequent benefits that might be gained from a comparison and exchange of ideas. There are no villages. Frail structures, cabins, as they call them, are scattered abroad over the countryside, and every family there lives, if in a desert. At the only times when the people are brought together, the meeting is a brief one and takes place on Sundays or on one of the religious festivals observed by the parish. These unsociable gatherings only last for a few hours and are always presided over by the rector, the only master that their dull minds recognize. The peasant hears the awe-inspiring voice of the priest,

and returns to his unwholesome dwelling for the week. He goes out to work and goes home again to sleep. If anyone goes near him, it is that same rector, who is the soul of the countryside. It was at the bidding of the priest, too, that so many thousands of men flung themselves upon the Republic when these very Breton districts furnished large bodies of men for the first Schoan organization, five years before this story begins.

In those days, several brothers, daring smugglers named Cotterot, who gave their name to the war, had plied their dangerous trade between Laval and Fugier. But there was nothing noble about these rural outbreaks, for if Lavande had elevated brigandage into warfare, Brittany had degraded war into brigandage. The proscription of the princes and the overthrow of religion were, to the Shuans, simply pretexts for plundering excursions, and all the events of that internecine warfare were colored by something of the savage ferocity peculiar to the disposition of the race. When the real supporters of the monarchy came in search of recruits among this ignorant and combative population,

they tried and tried in vain when they ranged the Schuans under the white flag to infuse some larger ideas into the enterprises which had made Schoaneri detested. The Schuans remained a memorable instance of the dangers incurred by stirring up the masses, of a half-civilized country. The scene that the First Breton Valley offers to the traveler's eyes, the picture that has been given of the men who composed the detachment of requisitionaries, the description of the Gah, who appeared on the summit of the Pelerin, would give altogether an accurate idea of the province and of those who dwelt in it.

From those details, an expert imagination could conventing could construct the theater and the machinery of war. Therein lay all the elements. Concealed enemies were lurking behind those hedges with the autumn flowers in them, in every lovely valley. Every field was a fortress. Every tree was a snare in disguise, not an old hollow willow trunk but concealed a stratagem. The field of battle lay in all directions.

At every corner of the road, muskets were lying in wait for the blues. Young girls, smiling as they went, would think it no treachery to lure them under the fire of cannon, and go afterwards with their fathers and brothers on pilgrimage to ask for absolution and to pray to be inspired with fresh deceits at the shrine of some carved can. and gilded virgin. The religion, or rather the fetishism of these ignorant folk, had deprived murder of all sense of remorse. So it befell that when the struggle had once begun, there was danger everywhere throughout the length and breadth of the country, in sound as in silence, in pardon or in terror, and by the fireside just as much as on the high road.

They were conscientiously treacherous, these savages who were serving God and the king by making war like Mohicans. Yet if the historian is to give a true and faithful picture of the struggle in every particular, he ought to add that as soon as Asha's treaty was signed, the whole country became blithe and friendly at once. Families who had been ready to fly at each other's throats the day before, supped without danger under the same roof. The moment that Ullo became aware of the treacherous secrets revealed by Moshater's goat-skin apparel, his conviction was confirmed. The auspicious peace, inaugurated through Osh's ability, was now at an end.

Its longer duration indeed seemed to him impossible. It was in this manner that war broke out again after three years of inaction and in a more formidable guise than hitherto. Perhaps the temper of the revolution which had grown milder since the ninth of Thermidor was about to revert to the ferocity which had made it hateful to every rightly constituted mind. English gold, as usual, contributed to bring about discord in France. If the Republic were abandoned by the young Bonaparte, who seemed to be its tutelary genius, it seemed as if it would be utterly unable to make a stand against so many foes, and the last to appear were the bitterest among them. war, heralded by numberless risings of little importance, assumed a gravity before unknown

from the moment that Shuans conceived the idea of attacking so strong an escort. This, in a concise form, was the substance of Ullo's reflections when he believed that in Marcia Tere's sudden appearance he saw the signs of a skillfully prepared. trap, and he alone, for no one else was in the secret of the danger. The pause, which ensued after the commandant's prophetic remark to Gerard, and which put an end to the previous scene, sufficed for Ullo to regain his composure. The veteran's brain had almost reeled. He could not shake off the gloom which covered his brow as he thought that he was even then

surrounded by the horrors of a warfare marked by atrocities from which perhaps even cannibals would shrink. His captain, Merle, and the adjutant Gerard, both of them friends of his, tried to understand the terror, quite new in their experience, of which their leader's face gave evidence. Then they looked at Marchetere, who was eating his bannock, and could not discern the remotest connection between the brave commandant's uneasiness and this sort of animal at the roadside. Ullo's face soon cleared, however.

While he deplored the calamities that had befallen the Republic, he was glad at heart that he was to fight for her. He vowed gaily to himself that he would not be gold by the Shuans, and that he would not be gold by the Shuans, and that he would read this dark, intriguing nature that they had done him the honor to send against him. Before making any decision, he began to study the place in which his enemies wished to take him at a disadvantage. His thick black eyebrows contracted in a heavy frown, as he saw, from the middle of the

road where he stood, that their way lay through a sort of ravine of nigh-of-ne of nighed Of no great depth it is true, but with woods on either side and many footpaths through them. He spoke to his two comrades in a low and very uncertain voice. We are in a nice hornet's nest. What is it that you are afraid of? Afraid? answered the commandant. Yes, afraid. I have always been afraid of.

being shot like a dog at some bend in a wood without so much as a who goes there. Bah, chuckled Merle, even a who goes there is also a deception. We really are in danger, then? asked Sherrard, as much amazed now at Ullo's coolness as he had been before at his brief spasm of fear. Hush, said the commandant, we are in the wolf's. den. It is as dark as in an oven in there, and we must strike a light. It is lucky, he went on, that we occupy the highest ground on this side. He added a vigorous epithet by way of ornament, and went on. Perhaps I shall end by understanding it clearly enough down there.

The commandant beckoned the two officers, and they made a ring-rown. found Marsha Tare. The Gah pretended to think that he was in the way and got up promptly. Stop where you are, vagabond, cried Ullo, giving him a push so that he went down again onto the slope where he had been sitting. From that moment, the chief of Demi Brigade never took his eyes off the impassive Breton. It is time to let you know, my friends, said Ullo, addressing the two officers in low tones, that they have shut up shop down there.

A mighty rummaging has been set up in the assemblies, and the directory, in consequence, has sent a few strokes of the broom our way. Those pentarks of directors call them pantaloons, it is better French, have just lost a good sword. Bernadotte has had enough of it. Who succeeds him? asked Gerard eagerly. Millie Murot, an old pedant, they have pitched on an awkward time for setting numskulls to pilot us. There are English rockets going up on the coasts, these cock-chafers of Vondians and schoens about, and the fellows at the back of those Marianettes yonder have cleverly selected the moment when we are about to succumb.

What? asked Mirle. Our armies are beaten back at every point, said Ullo, lowering his voice more and more. The Shouans have intercepted our couriers twice already. My own dispatches and the last decrees issued only reached me by a special express that Benadot sent just as he resigned his place in the ministry. Personal friends, fortunately, have written to me about this crisis. Fouchet has found out that traitors in Paris have advised the tyrant Louis XVI to send a leader to his dupes in the interior.

Some think that Barra is a traitor to the republic. In short, Pitt and the princes have seen. sent a C. de Valle over here, a strong man and a capable leader, he intends by combining the efforts of Vondians and Schuans to teach the Republic to respect them. The fellow has landed in Morbillon. I knew it before anyone else, and I advised those rascals in Paris of his arrival. The gah he has chosen to call himself. All those animals. animals, and he pointed to Marsha-Therre, fit themselves up with names that would give any honest patriot the colic if you called him by them.

But our man is here in this country, and the appearance of that shun yonder. Again he pointed to Marsha-Tarer, tells me that he is close upon us. But there is no need to teach grimaces to an old monkey, and you will help me now to cage my lunates, and in less than no time. A pretty idiot I should be to let myself be snared like a bird, and that by a sea-de-von from London come over here, pretending that he wants to dust our jackets. Thus informed, in confidence, of the critical state of affairs, the two officers who knew that their commandant never alarmed himself without good reason, assumed that gravity of expression common to soldiers in pressing danger, who have been thoroughly tempered and have some insight

into the ways of mankind. Gerard, whose rank, since suppressed, brought him into close contact with his commandant, made up his mind to reply and to ask for the rest of the political news which had evidently been passed over, but a sign from Ullo kept him silent, and all three of them fell to scrutinizing marchattair. The Schuann showed not the least sign of agitation at finding himself watched in this way by men as formidable intellectually as they were physically. This sort of warfare was a novelty to the two officers.

Their curiosity was keenly excited by the opening event, and the whole matter seemed to be invested with an almost romantic interest. They were inclined to joke about it, but, at the first word which they let fall, Ullo looked at them sternly, and said, Tonair did you, citizens, don't smoke your pipes over a barrel of powder. It might as well imuse yourselves with carrying water in a basket as by showing courage where it isn't wanted. Shilah! He continued, leaning over and whispering in the adjutant's ear. Get nearer to the brigand bit by bit, and if he makes the least suspicious movement, run him through

the body at once, and I myself will take measures for keeping up the conversation if our unknown friends really have a mind to begin it. Gerard bent his head slightly in obedience. Then he began to look round at different points in the landscape of the valley, with which the reader has had an opportunity. of making himself familiar. He appeared to wish to study them more closely, stepping back upon himself, so to speak, quite naturally, but the landscape it will well be believed was the last thing he had in view. Marsh Atterre, on the other hand, took no heed whatever

of the officer's maneuvers. One might have supposed that he was fishing in the ditch with the rod and line from the way he played with his whip handle. While Joar was trying in this way to take up his position by the Shu'an, the commandant spoke in a low voice to Merle. Take ten picked men and a sergeant and post yourself up above us, just on that part of the summit on this side where the road widens and makes a kind of plateau. You could see a good long long. stretch of the road to Arnais from the place. Pick out a spot where there are no woods on either side

of the road, so that the sergeant can keep a lookout over the country round. Take Clay de Care. He has his wits about him. This is no laughing matter at all. I would not give a penny for our skins if we don't take every advantage we can get. Captain Merle understood the importance of prompt action and the maneuver was executed at once. Then the commandant waved his right hand, demanding absolute silence from his men, who stood round about amusing themselves with chat. He signed to them afresh two shoulder arms, and as soon as everything was quiet again, his eyes travelled from one side of the road to the other.

He seemed in hope to detect muffled sounds of weapon. or of footsteps, preliminaries to the looked-for struggle, and to be listening anxiously for them. His keen black eyes appeared to penetrate the very depths of the woods in a marvelous way. No sign was forthcoming. He consulted the sand on the road, as savages do, trying every means by which he could discover the invisible foes whose audacity was known to him. In despair at finding nothing which justified his fears, he went towards the side of the road,

climbed with some difficulty up the bank, and went deliberately along the top of it. Suddenly he felt how largely his own experience conduced to the safety of his detachment, and he came down again. His face grew darker, for leaders in the world, those days were wont to regret that they could not reserve the most dangerous missions for themselves alone. The other officers and the men noticed their leader's preoccupied mood. They liked him.

The courage of his character was recognized among them, so they knew that this exceeding caution on his part meant that danger was at hand. How serious it was they could not possibly. suspect. So, though they remained motionless and scarcely drew their breath, it was done intuitively. The soldiers looked by turns along the valley of the Cueninand, at the woods along the road, and at their commandant's stern face, trying to gather what their fate was to be, much as the dogs try to guess what the experienced sportsman means who gives them some order which they cannot understand. They looked at each other's eyes, and a smile spread

from mouth to mouth. As Ullo made his peculiar grimace, Bo-Pier, a young sergeant who was regarded as the wit of the company, said, in a low voice, What the devil have we run ourselves into to make that old dragoon of a Ulo turn such a muddy face on us? He looks like a whole council of war. Ullo flung a stern glance at Bopier, and forthwith there was a sudden accession of the silence required of men under arms. In the middle of this awful pause, the lagging footsteps of the conscripts were heard. The gravel under their feet gave out a dull, monotonous sound that added a vague, disagreeable feeling to the general anxiety, an indescribable feeling that can only be understood by those who, in the silence of night, have been victims of a terrible suspense and have felt

their hearts beat heavily with redoubled quickness at some monotonous recurring noise, which has seemed to pour terror through them drop by drop. The commandant reached the middle of the road again. He was beginning to ask himself, Am I deceived? His rage concentrated itself already upon Marchet-Pair and his stolid tranquility. It flashed in his eyes like lightning as he looked at him. But he discerned a savage irony in the Shuang's sullen gaze

that convinced him it would be better not to discontinue his precautionary measures. His captain, Merle, came up to him just then after having executed Ullo's orders. The mute actors in this scene, which was like so many another that was to make this war one of the most dramatic ever known, were looking out impatiently for new sensations, curious to see any fresh maneuvers that should throw a light on obscure points of the military position for their benefit. Captain, said the Commandant, we did well to put the small number of patriots that we can depend upon among the requisitionaries at the rear of the detachment.

Take another dozen of stout fellows and put Sub-Lieutenant Lebrun and put Sub-Lieutenant Lebrun and, at the head of them. Take them down quickly yourself to the rear of the detachment. They will support the patriots down there, and they will make the whole troop of rascals move on and quickly, too, and bring them up to the level of our own men in no time. I am waiting for you." The captain disappeared among the troop. The commandant looked out four resolute men, whom he knew to be alert and active, and called them by a gesture only. He tapped his nose with his forefinger, and then pointed to each, in turn, by way of a friendly sign. The four approached him.

You served with me under Osh, said he, when we gave these scoundrels who call themselves Chasseur du Roa a lesson, and you know their ways of hiding themselves. so as to pepper the blues. All four soldiers held up their heads and pressed their lips together significantly at this praise of their quick-wittedness. There was a reckless acquiescence in the soldierly heroic faces, which showed that since the beginning of the struggle between France and Europe, their thoughts had scarcely strayed beyond the limits of the cartridge pouch at their backs

and the bayonet they carried in front. They stood with pursed-up mouths, looking curiously and attentively at the commandant. Very well, went on Ullo, who in an eminent degree possessed the art of speaking in the soldier's picturesque language. Stout fellows such as we are must never allow the shawans to make fools of us, and there are shoo-uns about, or my name is not too low. Be off, the four of you, and beat up either side of the road. The detachment is going to slip its cable. Keep well alongside of it. Try not to hand in your checks and clear up this business for me. Sharp! He pointed out the dangerous heights above the

road. By way of thanks, all four raised the backs of their hands before their old cocked hats. The turned-up brims, weather-beaten now and limp with age, had fallen over the crowns. One of them, La Rose, by name, a corporal that Ullo knew, said as he made the muzzle of his gun ring on the ground, They shall have a solo on the clarionette, commandant. They set out, two of them to the right and the others to the left. It was not without an inward tremor that the company saw them disappear on either side of the way. The commandant shared him this anxiety. He believed that he had sent them to a certain death.

He shuddered in spite of himself when he saw their hats no longer, And both officers and men heard the sound of their footsteps on the dead leaves gradually dying away, with a feeling all the more acutely painful for being hidden so far beneath the surface. In war, there are scenes like these when four men sent into jeopardy cause more consternation than the thousands of corpses stretched upon the field that So many and so fleeting are the expressions of the military physiognomy that those who would fain depict them are obliged to call up memories of soldiers in the past, and to leave it to non-combatants to study their dramatic figures.

For these stormy times were so rich in detail that any complete description of them could only be made at interminable length. End of Section 2. Section 3 of the Schuans by Honorre de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marrage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Read by Bruce Peary. Chapter 1 C. Just as the gleam of the bayonets of the four soldiers was no longer visible, Captain

Merle came back after executing the Commandant's orders with lighten speed. With two or three words of command, Ullo set the rest of his troop in order of battle in the middle of the road. Then he gave the word to regain the summit of the Pelarin, where his little advance guard was posted, and he himself followed last of all, walking backwards so that he might see the slightest change that should come over any of the principal points, in that view which nature had made so enchanting, and man so full of terrors. Marsh Atter had followed all the Commandant's maneuvers with indifferent eyes,

but he had watched the two soldiers as they penetrated the woods that lay to the right with incredible keenness. And now, as Ullo reached the spot where Chirot stood on guard over him, Marsha Tare began to whistle two or three times, in a way that imitated the shrill, far-reaching, cry of the screech-owl. The three notorious smugglers whose names have been already mentioned used to employ some of the notes of that cry at night to give warning of an ambush or danger or of anything else that

concerned them. In this way the nickname Chouin arose, which in the dialect of the country means an owl or screech-owl. A corruption of the word served to designate those who in the previous war had adopted the tactics and signals of the three brothers, so that when he heard the suspicious whistle, the commandant stopped and fixed his gaze on March Aterre. He affected to be deceived by the Shuwan's appearance of imbecility that he might keep him at his side as a kind of barometer to indicate the enemy's movements, so that he might keep him at his side as a kind of barometer to indicate the enemy's movements,

So he caught Gerard's hand as it was raised to dispatch the Schoan, and posted two soldiers a few paces away from the spy, ordering them in loud and distinct tones to be ready to shoot him down if he attempted to make the slightest signal of any kind. In spite of his imminent peril, Marsh Aterre showed no sort of perturbation, and the commandant who was studying, him, noticed this indifference. A chap isn't up to everything, he said to Giroir. Ah, it is not so easy to read a Chouin's face, but this fellow's wish to exhibit his intrepidity has betrayed him. If he had shamed fright, Giroir, I should have taken him for a nincompoop, you see, and there would have been a pair of us, he and I.

I had come to the end of my tether. ah we shall be attacked but let them come i am ready now the old soldier rubbed his hands triumphantly when he had muttered these words and looked maliciously at macheteer then he locked his arms over his chest took his stand in the middle of the road between his two favorite officers and awaited the result of the measures he had taken sure of the issue he looked his men over calmly. Ah, ho, we are going to have a row, said Bopier in a low voice. The commandant is rubbing his hands. Commandant Ullo and his detachment found themselves in one of those critical positions where life is really at stake, and when men of energetic character feel themselves

in honor-bound to show coolness and self-possession, such times bring a man to the final test. The commandant, therefore, who knew the danger better than any of his officers, prided himself on appearing the coolest person present. With his eyes fixed alternately on the woods, the roadway, and marcheterre, he was expecting the general onslaught of the Shuans, who, as he believed, lay concealed all about them like goblins, with an unmoved, face, but not without inward anguish. Just as the men's eyes were all turned upon his, slight creases appeared in the brown cheeks with the scars of smallpox upon them. The commandant screwed his lip sharply up to one side, blinked his eyes, a grimace which was understood

to be a smile by his men, then he clapped Choir on the shoulder, saying, Now we have time to talk. What were you going to say to me just now? What new crisis have we here, Commandant? It is nothing new, he answered in a low voice. All Europe has a chance against us this time. Whilst the directors are squabbling among themselves like horses left in the stable without any oats and are letting the government go all to pieces, they leave their armies,

We are utterly ruined in Italy. Yes, my friends, we have evacuated Manchua on the top of the disasters at Latrebia, and Joubert has just lost the Battle of Novi. I only hope Mascena will guard the Swiss passes, for Svavav is overrunning the country. We are beaten along the Rhine. Morrow has been sent out there by the directory. He is a fine fellow. But is he going to keep the frontier?

I wish he may, I am sure, but the coalition will crush us altogether at last. And unluckily, the one general who could save us has gone to the devil now there in Egypt. And how is he to get back, moreover? England, his mistress of the seas. Bonaparte's absence does not trouble me, commandant, said Gerard, his young adjutant,

whose superior faculties had been developed by careful education. Is our revolution to end like that? We are bound to do more than merely defend the soil of France. Ours is a double mission. What we not to keep alive the very soul of our country, the generous principles of liberty and independence, that human reason evoked by our assemblies, which is winning its way, I hope, little by little.

France is like a traveller with a light in her keeping. She must carry it in one hand and defend herself with the other. If your news is well-founded, for these ten years past we have never been surrounded by so many who would seek to blow it out. Our doctrines and our country all alike are about to perish. Alas, yes, sighed the Commandant Ullo. Those Monta-banks of directors have managed to quarrel with all the men who could have steered the vessel.

Bernadotte, Carnot, and everyone else, down to Citizen Talilin, has abandoned us. There is only one good patriot left, in fact, our friend Fouchet, who has everything in his hands by police supervision. There is a man for you. He it was, too, who gave me warning in time of this insurrection. For all that, here we are in some pitfall or other. I am positive. Oh, if the army did not interfere a little in the government, said Gerard, the lawyers would put us back in a worse position than we were in before the revolution.

Do those wretches understand how to make themselves obey? I am always in fear that I shall hear of their treating with the Bourbon princes, Tarnar did you. If they came to an understanding what a fix some of the rest of us would be in out here. No, no, Commandant, we shall not come to that, said Gerard. As you say, the army would make its voice heard, and so that the army does not pick its words out of Pichagru's dictionary, we shall not have been cutting ourselves to pieces for ten years, I hope, over carding the flax for others to spin.

Well, said Captain Merle, let us always conduct ourselves here, like good patriots, and try to cut off the shoe and communications with Lavande, for if once they hear that England has a finger in the matter, I would not answer for the cap of our republic, one and indivisible. Just then, the cry of a screechal, heard from some considerable distance, interrupted the conversation. Still more uneasily the commandant again furtively scrutinized March Aterre. There was no sign of animation, so to speak, in his stolid face. The recruits, drawn up together by one of the officers, were mustered like a herd of cattle in the crown of the road, some thirty paces from the troops in order of battle. Behind them, again, at the distance of some ten paces, came the soldiers and patriots commanded by Lieutenant LeBron.

The commandant ran his eyes over this array and gave a last glance at the picket posted in advance up the road. Satisfied with this disposition of his forces, he turned to give the order to march when he saw the tricolor cockades of two of his scouts returning from the search of the woods that lay on the left, as he saw no sign whatever of the two sent to reconnoiter the right-hand woods, the commandant determined to wait for them. Perhaps the trouble is coming from that quarter, he remarked to his two officers,

as he pointed out the woods which seemed to have swallowed up his, his two Enfons Perdue. While the two scouts were making some sort of report, Ullo ceased to watch March a Terre. The schoen began again to give a sharp whistle, a cry so shrill that it could be heard a long way off, and then before either of his guards so much as saw what he was after, he dealt them each a blow from his whip-handle

that stretched them on the roadside. All at once, answering cries, or rather savage yells, startled the Republicans. A terrible fire was opened upon them from the wood that crowned the slope where the Schoen had been sitting, and seven or eight of their men fell. Five or six soldiers had taken aim at Marcia Ter, but none of them hit him. He had climbed the slope with the agility of a wildcat and disappeared in the woods above. His sabos rolled down into the ditch, and it was easy then to see upon his feet the great iron-bound shoes which were always worn by the Chasseur du Roa. At the first alarm given by the shoe-uns, all the recruits had made a dash for it, into the woods on the right, like a flock of birds scared by the approach of a passer-by.

Fire on those rascals, roared the commandant. The company fired, but the recruits were well able to screen themselves from the musket shots. Every man set his back against a tree, and before the muskets had been reloaded, they were all out of sight. Issue warrants for a departmental legion, eh? Ullo said to Gerard. One would have to be as big a fool as a director to put. put any dependence on a requisition from this district. The assemblies would show more sense if they would send us clothing and money and ammunition

and give up voting reinforcements. These swine liked their bannocks better than ammunition bred, said Beaupier, the wag of the company. At his words, hooting and yells of de riss of laughter went up from the Republican troops, crying shame on the deserters, but a sudden silence followed all at once. The soldiers saw the two scouts, who had been sent by the commandant to search the woods on the right, painfully toiling down the slope, the less injured man supporting his comrade whose blood drenched the earth. The two poor fellows had scarcely reached the middle of the bank when Macheteer showed his hideous face. His

His aim was so certain that with one shot he hit them both, and they rolled heavily down into the ditch. His huge head had barely shown itself before the muzzles of some thirty muskets were leveled at him, but he had disappeared like a phantom behind the ominous gorse bushes. All these things which it takes so many words to describe came to pass almost in a moment, in a moment more, the patriots and soldiers of the rearguard came up with the rest of the escort. Forward, shouted Ullo. The company rapidly gained the high and exposed position where the picket had been placed.

The commandant then drew up his forces in order of battle, but he saw no further hostile demonstration on the part of the Shuans and thought that the sole object of the ambuscade was the deliverance of his conscripts. Their cries tell me that they are not in great force. Let us march double quick. We may possibly get to Arnais before we have them down upon us. A patriot conscript overheard the words, left the ranks and stood before Ullo.

General, said he, I've seen some of this sort of fighting before as a counter-souan, may I put in a word or two? Here's one of these barrack lawyers, the Commandant muttered in Merle's ear. They always think they're on for hearing. Go on, argue away, he added to the young man from Fugierre. Commandant, the Schuens have brought arms, of course, for those men that they have just recruited. If we have to run for it now, they will be waiting for it.

at every turn in the woods, and will pick us off to a man before we can get to Eernay. We must argue, as you say, but it must be with cartridges. Then, during the skirmish which will last longer than you look for, one of us could go for the National Guard and the free companies stationed at Fugier. We may be conscripts, but you shall see by that time that we are not carrion kites. Then you think the Shuans are here in some force. Judge for yourself, citizen commandant. He led Ullo to a spot on the plateau where the sand had been disturbed, as if a rake had

been over it, and after calling Ullo's attention to this, led him some little way along a footpath where traces of the passage of a large body of men were distinctly visible. had been trodden right into the trampled earth. That will be the gar from Vitre, said the Fugere. They have gone to join the Bon Normand. What is your name, citizen? asked Ullo. Goodin, Commandant. Well, then, Gudin, I shall make you corporal of your townsmen here.

You are a long-headed fellow, it seems to me. I leave it to you to pick out one of your comrades who must be sent to Fugier, and you yourself will keep close beside me. But first, there are these two poor comrades of ours that those brigands have laid out on the road there. You and some of your conscripts can go and take their guns and clothes and cartridge boxes. You shall not stop here to take shots without returning them. The brave Fugéire went to strip the dead, protected by an energetic fire kept up upon the woods by the whole company. It had its effect, for the party returned without losing a man. These Bretons will make good soldiers, said Ullo to Gerard, if their mess happens to take their fancy.

Goudin's messenger set out at a trot along a pathway that turned off to the left through, the woods. The soldiers absorbed in examining their weapons, prepared for the coming struggle. The commandant passed them in review, smiled encouragingly, and placing himself with his two favorite officers a step or two in advance, awaited the onset of the Shouans with composure. Silence prevailed again, but it was only for a moment. and 300 shoe ones, dressed exactly like the requisitionaries, issued from the woods to the right. They came on in no order, uttering fearful cries and occupied the width of the road before the

little battalion of Blues. The commandant divided his troops into two equal parts, each part representing a front of ten men to the enemy. Between these divisions and in the center, he placed himself at the head of his band of twelve hastily equipped conscripts. The little army was protected by two wings of twenty-five men each under the command of Gerard and Merle. These officers were to take the showans adroitly in flank and to prevent them from scattering about the country. Seguilliers, they call the movement in the patois of this district.

when every peasant would take up his position where he could shoot at the blues without exposing himself, and the Republican troops were utterly at a loss to know where to have their enemies. These arrangements made with the rapidity demanded by the circumstances seemed to infuse the commandant's self-reliance into the men, and all advanced upon the shewans in silence. At the end of the few seconds needed for the two, bodies of men to approach each other, there was a sudden discharge at close quarters which scattered death through either rank, but in a moment the Republican wings had wheeled and

taken the Schoans in flank. These latter had no means of opposing them, and the hot pertinacious fire of their enemies spread death and disorder in their midst. This maneuver nearly redressed the balance of the non-interested. numbers on either side. But the courage and firmness of the Shuan character was equal to all tests. They did not give way. Their losses did not shake them. They closed their ranks and tried to surround the little dark compact lines of blues, who appeared in the narrow space they occupied like a queen bee in the midst of a swarm. Then they engaged in one of those horrible struggles at

close quarters, when the rattle of musketry almost ceases, and the click of the bayonets is heard instead, and the ranks meet man to man, and courage being equal on either side, the victory is won by sheer force of numbers. At first the shewans would have carried all before them if the two wings under Merle and Gerard had not brought two or three volleys to bear slantwise on the enemy's rear. By rights, the two wings should have stayed where they were and continued to pick off their formidable foes in this adroit manner, but the sight of the heroic battalion now hemmed in on all sides by the Chasseur-du-ois excited them. They flung themselves like madmen into the struggle on the roadway,

bayonet in hand, and redressed the battle. again for a few moments. Both sides gave themselves up to a furious zeal, aggravated by the ferocious cruelty of party spirit that made this war an exception. Each became absorbed by his own peril, and was silent. The place seemed chill and dark with death. The only sounds that broke the silence and rose above the clash of weapons and the great noise of the gravel underfoot, were the deep hollow groans of those who fell badly wounded,

or of the dying as they lay. In the Republican Center the dozen conscripts defended the person of the commandant who issued continual warnings and orders manifold, with such courage that more than once a soldier here and there had cried, bravo conscripts. Ullo, the imperturbable and wide awake, soon noticed among the Shuans a man, also surrounded by picked troops who appeared to be their leader. It seemed to him very needful to make quite sure of this officer. Now and again he made efforts to distinguish his features hidden by a crowd of broad hats

and red caps, and in this way he recognized Mesh Atair beside the officer, repeating his orders in a hoarse voice while he kept his carbine in constant use. Ullo grew tired of the repeated annoyance. He drew his sword, encouraged his requisitionaries, and dashed so furiously upon the Schoen center that he penetrated their ranks and caught a glimpse of the officer, whose face, unluckily, was hidden by a large felt hat with a white cockade. but the stranger, taken somewhat aback by this bold onset, suddenly raised his hat. Ullo seized the opportunity to make a rapid survey of his opponent.

The young chief, who seemed to Ullo to be about 25 years of age, wore a short green cloth shooting coat. The white sash at his waist held pistols, the heavy shoes he wore were bound with iron, like those of the shuans, Gators reaching to the knee and breaches of some coarse material completed the costume. He was of middle height, but well and gracefully made. In his anger at seeing the blues so near to him, he thrust on his hat again and turned towards them, but Marcia Ther and others of his party surrounded him at once in alarm.

Still, through gaps in the crowd of faces that pressed about the young man and came between them, Ullo felt sure he saw a broad red ribbon on the officer's unfastened coat that showed the wearer to be a knight-commander of the Order of St. Louis. The commandant's eyes, at first attracted by the long-forgotten royal decoration, were turned next upon a face which he lost sight of again in a moment, for the risks of battle compelled him to watch closely over the safety in the movements of his own little band. He had scarcely time to see the color of the sparkling eyes, but the fair hair and delicately cut features tanned by the sun did not escape him, nor the gleam of a bare neck that seemed all the whiter by contrast with a loosely knotted black scarf.

There was the enthusiasm and excitement of a soldier in the bearing of the young leader, and of a type of soldier for whom a certain dramatic element seems desirable in a fight. The hand that swung the sword-blade aloft in the sunlight was well-gloved, vigor was expressed in the face, and a certain refinement also in a like degree. In his high-wrought exaltation, set off by all the charms of youth and graciousness of manner, he seemed to be a fair ideal type of the French noblesse, while Ulloo, not four paces from him might have been the embodiment of the energetic republic for whom the veteran was fighting.

His stern face, his blue uniform faced with the worn red facings, the grimy epaulettes that hung back over his shoulders, expressed the character and the deficiencies of their owners. The graceful attitude and expression of the younger man were not lost upon Ullo, who shouted as he tried to reach him. Here, you ballet-danceer, come a little nearer so that I may get a chance at you. The royalist leader, irritated by the momentary check, made a desperate forward movement, But the moment his own men saw the danger he was thus incurring, they all flung themselves upon the blues. A clear, sweet voice suddenly rang out above the din of conflict. Here it was that the sainted lescure fell.

Will you not avenge him? At these magical words, the Shuon onset became terrible. The little troop of Republican soldiers kept their line unbroken, with the greatest difficulty. If he had not been a youngster, said Ullo to himself, as he gave way step by step, we should not have been attacked at all. When did Shouan's offer battle before?

But so much the better, they won't shoot us down like dogs along the road. He raised his voice till the woods echoed with the words. Come, look alive, men. Are we going to let ourselves, be fooled by these bandits? The verb is but a feeble substitute for that of the gallant commander's choice, but old hands will be able to insert the genuine word which certainly possesses a more soldierly

flavor. Gerard Merle, the commandant continued. Call in your men, form them in columns, and fall on their rear, fire on these curs, and make an end of them. them. Ullo's orders were carried out with great difficulty, for the young chief heard the voice of his antagonist, and shouted, St. Anne of Oray, don't let them get away, scatter yourselves, my gar. As either wing commanded by Mere la en Choir withdrew from the thick of the fray, each little

column was pertinaciously followed by Chouan's in greatly superior numbers. The old goatskins surrounded the men under Merle and Gerard on all sides, once more uttering those threatening cries of theirs, like the howls of wild beasts. Silence, gentlemen, shouted Beaupier, we can't hear ourselves being killed. The joke put fresh heart into the blues. The fighting was no longer concentrated upon a single point. The Republicans defended themselves in three different places on the plateau of the Pelerin, and the valleys, so quiet hitherto,

re-echoed with the sound of the firing. Hours might have passed and left the issue still undecided, or the struggle might have come to an end for lack of combatants. The courage of blues and shuans was evenly matched, and the fierce desire of battle was surging, as it were, from the one side to the other, when, far away and faintly, there sounded the tap of a drum, and from the direction of the sound, the core that it heralded must be crossing the valley of the Coen-en-Anon. That is the National Guard from Fugier, cried Goudin. Vanier must have fallen in with them. His voice reached the young leader and his ferocious Ed, decoucée.

comp, the royalists began to give way, but a cry like a wild beasts from March Aterre promptly checked them. Two or three orders were given in a low voice by the chief, and translated by March Ater into Bon Breton for the Schuens, and the retreat began, conducted with a skill which baffled the Republicans and even their commandant. In the first place, such of the Schewen's as were not disabled, drew up in line at the word, and presented a formidable front to the enemy, while the wounded and the remainder of them fell behind to load their guns. Then all at once,

with a swiftness of which Marsh Aterre had given an example, the wounded from the rear gained the summits of the bank on the right side of the road, and were followed thither by half of the remaining Schewans, who clambered nimbly up and manned the top of the bank, only their energetic heads being visible to the blues below. Once there they made a sort of rampart of the trees, and thence they brought the barrels of their guns to bear upon the remnant of the escort, who had rapidly drawn up in obedience to repeated orders from Ullo, in such a way as to present a front equal to that of the who were still occupying the road.

These last fell back, still disputing the ground, and wheeled so as to bring themselves under cover of the fire of their own party. When they reached the ditch which lay by the roadside, they scrambled in their turn up the steep slope whose top was held by their own comrades, and so rejoined them, steadily supporting the murderous fire of the Republicans, which was held by their own comrades, which were which filled the ditch with dead bodies, the men from the height of the scarp, replying the while,

with a fire no less deadly. Just then, the National Guard from Fugier arrived at a run on the scene of the conflict, and with their presence the affair was at an end. A few excited soldiers and the National Guards were leaving the footpath to follow them up in the woods, but the commandant called to them, in his soldier's voice.

Do you want to be cut to bits over there?" They came up with the Republican troops who were left in possession of the field indeed, but only after heavy losses. Then all the old hats went aloft on the points of their bayonets, while every soldier's voice cried twice over, Long live the Republic. Even the wounded men lying by the roadside, shared alike in the enthusiasm, and Ullo squeezed his lieutenant's hand as he said, One might call that pluck, eh?

Merlet was ordered to bury the dead in a ravine by the wayside. Carts and horses were requisitioned from neighboring farms for the wounded, whom their comrades hastened to lay on the clothing taken from the dead. Before they set out, the National Guard from Fugier brought a shoe on to Ullo. The man was dangerously wounded and had been found lying exhausted at the foot of the slope up which his party had made their escape. Thanks for this prompt stroke of yours, citizens, said the commandant. Taneiardat, we should have had a bad quarter of an hour but for you.

You must look out for yourselves now. The war has broken out in earnest. Good day, gentlemen." Ullo turned to his prisoner. What is your general's name? The Gar. Who? Marcheter?

No. The Gar. And where does the Gar come from? To this question the Chasseur-Dur-Wa made no reply. His wild weather-beaten face was drawn with pain. He took his beads and began to mutter a prayer. The gar is that young Cidavon with the black cravat, no doubt. He has been sent over here by the tyrant and his allies, Pitt and Coburg. Here the Shuon, who had so far seemed

unconscious of what was going on, raised his head at the words, to say proudly, sent by God and the king. The energy with which he spoke exhausted his strength. The commandant turned away with a frown. He saw the difficulty of interrogating a dying man, a man, moreover, who bore signs of a gloomy fanaticism in every line of his face. Two of his men stepped forward and took aim at the show-on.

They were friends of the two fellows whom Marchetaire had dispatched so brutally with a blow from his whip at the outset, for both were lying dead at the roadside. The Schuwen's steady eyes did not flinch before the barrels of the muskets that they pointed at him, although they fired close to his face. He fell, but when the men came up to strip the corpse, he shouted again for the last time. Long live the king. Hing. All right, curmudgeon, said Clay de care. Be off to your holy virgin and get your supper.

Didn't he come back and say to our faces, Long live the tyrant when we thought it was all over with him? Here, sir, said Beaupier. Here are the brigands' papers. Look, here, though, cried Clay de care, Here's a fellow being enlisted by the saints above. He wears their badge here on his chest. Ullo and some others made a group round the Schoen's naked body

and saw upon the dead man's breast a flaming heart tattooed in a bluish color, a token that the wearer had been initiated into the brotherhood of the sacred heart. Under the symbol Ullo made out Marie L'Ambricain, evidently the showin's own name. You see that, Clay Descartes? asked Popier. Well, you would guess away for a century and never find out what that part of his accoutrements means. How should I know about the Pope's uniforms? replied Clay de Care.

You good for nothing, Flint Crusher, will you never be any wiser? Can't you see that they promised. the chap there that he should come to life again. He painted his gizzard so as to be known by it. There was some ground for the witticism. Ullo himself could not help joining in the general laughter that followed. By this time Merla had buried the dead, and the wounded had been laid in the carts as carefully as might be.

The other soldiers formed in a double file, one on either side of the imbered. improvised ambulance wagons, and in this manner they went down the other side of the mountain, the outlook over men before their eyes, and the lovely valley of the pelarine, which rivals that of the coenon. Ullo and his two friends, Merle and Gerard, followed slowly after the men, wishing that they might, without further mishap, reach Eurne, where the wounded could be attended to. End of Section 3. Section 4 of the Schuans by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marriage.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Read by Bruce Peary. Chapter 1D. This engagement, though scarcely heard of in France, where great events were even then taking place, attracted some attention in the West, where this second rising filled everyone's thoughts. A change was remarked in the methods adopted by the Shuans in the opening of the war. Never before had they attacked so considerable a body of troops. Ullo's conjectures led him to suppose that the young royalist whom he had seen must be the gha,

a new general sent over to France by the princes, and that his own name and title were concealed after the custom of royalist leaders by that kind of nickname which is called a nom de guerre. This circumstance made him as uneasy after his dubious victory as he had been on his first suspicion of an ambuscade. More than once he turned to look at the plateau of La Pellarine, which he was leaving behind, while even yet at intervals the faint sound of a drum reached him for the National Guard was going down the valley of the Cuenot, while they themselves were descending the valley of La Pelerine. Can either of you suggest their motive for attacking us?

He began abruptly addressing his two friends. Fighting is a kind of trade-in musket-shots for them, and I can't see that they have made anything in our case. They must have lost at least a hundred men, while we, he added, screwing up his right cheek and winking his eyes by way of a smile, have not lost sixty. By heaven, I can't understand the speculation. The rogues need never have attacked us at all.

We should have gone past the place like letters by the post, and I can't see what good it did them to make holes in our fellows. He pointed dejectedly to the wound, it as he spoke. Maybe they wanted to wish us good day, he added. But they have secured a hundred and fifty of our lambs, said Merlea, thinking of the recruits. The requisitionaries could have hopped off into the woods like frogs. We should not have gone in to fish them out again, at any rate not after a volley or two.

No, no, went on Ullo. there is something more behind. He turned again to look at La Pellerine. Stay, he cried. Look there. Far away as they were from the unlucky plateau by this time, the practiced eyes of the three officers easily made out Marsh Aterre and others in possession of the place.

Quick march, cried Ullo to his troop. Stir your shanks and make those horses move on faster than that. Are their legs frozen? Have the beasts also been sent over by Pitt and Coburg? The pace of the little troop was quickened by the words. I hope to heaven we shall not have to clear up this mystery at Arnais with powder and ball, he said to the two officers. It is too dark a business for me to see through readily.

I am afraid we shall be told. that the king's subjects have cut off our communications with Mayenne. The very strategic problem which made Ullo's mustache bristle gave anxiety, no wit less keen, to the men whom he had discovered upon the summit of La Palarin. The drum of the National Guard from Fugier was hardly out of ear-shot, the blues had only reached the bottom of the long steep road below, when Marsh Atterre, cheerfully gave the cry of the screech-aul again, and the shewans reappeared, but in smaller numbers. Some of them must have been occupied in bandaging the wounded at the village of La Pellarine,

on the side of the hills overlooking the valley of the Cuenin. Two or three Chasseur-duro came up to Marcheter. Four paces away, the young noble sat, musing on a granite boulder, by the numerous thoughts to which his difficult enterprise gave rise in him. Mach Aterre shaded the sun from his eyes with his hand as he dejectedly followed the progress of the Republicans down the valley of La Pelerine. His small, keen black eyes were trying to discover what was passing on the horizon where the road left the valley for the opposite hillside.

The blues will intercept the male, said one of the chiefs sullenly, who stood nearest to March Aterre. By St. Anne of O'Rae, asked another, why did you make us fight, to save your own skin? Marshaeter's glance at the speaker was full of malignity. He wrapped the butt of his heavy carbine on the ground. Am I in command? said he. Then, after a pause, he went on. If all of you had fought as I did, not one of the blues would have escaped. And he pointed to the remnant of Ullo's detachment below, and perhaps then the coach would have come through as far as here.

Do you suppose, asked a third speaker, that the idea of escorting it or stopping it either Would have crossed their minds if we had let them pass peaceably? You wanted to save your own hide. You that would have it, the blues were not on the march. He must save his own bacon, he went on turning to the others, and the rest of us must bleed for it, and we are like to lose twenty thousand francs in good gold coin besides. Bacon yourself, cried Marsh Atter.

drawing back and bringing his carbine to bear on his adversary. It's not that you hate the blues, but that you are fond of money. You shall die without confession, do you hear, a damned rascal that hasn't taken the sacrament this twelve-month past? The shewin turned white with rage at this insult. A deep growl came from his chest as he raised his musket and pointed it at Marchetere. The young leader rushed between them, knocked the firearms out of their hands by striking up their weapons with the stock of his carbine, and demanded an explanation of the quarrel. The dispute had been carried on in Bob Breton, with which he was not very familiar.

March Aterre explained and ended his discourse with, It's the more shame to them that bear a grudge against me, my Lord Marquis, for I left P. Amish behind, and very likely he will keep the coach out of these robber's clutches. He pointed to the blues, for these faithful defenders of altar and throne were all brigands and murderers of Louis XVI. What? cried the young man angrily. Do you mean to say, you are waiting here to stop a coach? You cowards who could not gain the victory in the first encounter with me for your commander. How is victory possible with such intentions?

So those who fight for God and the king are pillagers? By St. Anne of Ouray, we are making war on the Republic and not on diligences. anyone guilty of such disgraceful actions in future will not be pardoned, and shall not benefit by the favors destined for brave and faithful servants of the king." A murmur like a growl arose from the band. It was easy to see that the authority of the new leader never very sure over these undisciplined troops had been compromised. of this was lost upon the young man, who cast about him for a means of saving his orders

from discredit, when the sound of approaching horse-hoofs broke the silence. Every head was turned in the direction whence the sound seemed to come. A young woman appeared, mounted sideways upon a little horse. Her pace quickened to a gallop as soon as she saw the young man. What is the matter?' she asked, looking by turns at the chief and the assembled Shuans. Would you believe it, madame? They are waiting to plunder the coach that runs between Mayenne and Fugier, just as we have liberated our gar from Fugier in a skirmish which has cost us a good

many lives without our being able to demolish the blues. Very well, but where is the harm? asked the young lady whose woman's tact had revealed the secret of this scene to her. You have lost some men, you say. We shall never run short of them. The male is carrying money, and we are always short of that. We will bury our men who will go to heaven, and we will take the money, which will go into the pockets of these good fellows. What is the objection. Every face among the shoe-uns beamed with approval at her words.

Is there nothing in this to make you blush? said the young man in a low voice. Are you in such streets for money that you have to take the road for it? I am so in want of it, Marquis, that I would put my heart in pledge for it, I think, if it were still in my keeping," she said, smiling coquettishly at him. Where can you come from to think of employing Shouans without allowing them to plunder the blues now and again? Don't you know the proverb, thievish as an owl? And what else is a Shuan?

Besides, she went on, raising her voice, is it not a righteous action? have not the blues robbed us and taken the property of the church?' Again a murmur from the Shuans greeted her words, a very different sound from the growl with which they had answered the marquis. The colour on the young man's brow grew darker. He stepped a little aside with the lady and began with the lively petulance of a well-bred man. Will these gentlemen come to the Vivitier on the appointed day?

Yes, she answered, all of them, Lentime, Grand Chalk, and possibly Ferdinard. Then permit me to return thither, for I cannot sanction such brigandage by my presence. Yes, madame, I say it is brigandage. A noble may allow himself to be robbed, but... very well then she broke in i shall have your share and i am obliged to you for giving it up to me the prize money will put me in funds my mother has delayed sending money to me for so long that i am fairly desperate "'Good-bye,' said the Marquis, and he disappeared. The lady hurried quickly after him. "'Why won't you stay with me?' she asked, with a glance half-tirinous, half tender,

such a glance as a woman gives to a man over whom she exerts a claim when she desires to make her wishes known to him. "'Are you not going to plunder the coach?' plunder she repeated what a strange expression let me explain not a word he said taking both her hands and kissing them with a courtier's ready gallantry listen to me he went on after a pause if i were to stay here while they stopped the coach our people would kill me for i should they would not kill you she he answered quickly. They would tie your hands together, always with due respect to your rank, and after levying upon the Republicans a contribution sufficient for their equipment and maintenance, and for some purchases of gunpowder, they would again obey you blindly. And you would have me

command here? If my life is necessary to the cause for which I am fighting, you must allow me to save my honor as a commander. I can pass over this piece of cowardice if it is done in my absence. I will come back again to be your escort. He walked rapidly away. The young lady heard the sound of his footsteps with evident vexation. When the sound of his tread on the dead rustling leaves had died away, she waited a while, like one stupefied.

Then she hurried back to the Shouans. An abrupt, scornful gesture escaped her. She said to Mosh Atair, who was aiding her to dismount, The young man wants to open war on the Republic in regular form. Oh, well, he will alter his mind in that day or two. But how he has treated me, she said, to herself after a pause. She sat down on the rock where the Marquis had been sitting, and waited the coming of the coach

in silence. It was not one of the least significant signs of the times that a young and noble lady should be thus brought by violent party feeling into the struggle between the monarchies and the spirit of the age, impelled by the strength of those feelings too. assist in deeds to which she yet was, so to speak, not an accessory, led like many another by an exaltation of soul that sometimes brings great things to pass. Many a woman, like her, played a part in those troubled times. Sometimes it was a sorry one, sometimes the part of a heroine.

The royalist cause found no more devoted and active emissaries than among such women as these. In expiation of the errors of devotion or for the mischances of the false position in which these heroines of their cause were placed, perhaps none suffered so bitterly as the lady at that moment seated on the slab of granite by the wayside. Yet even in her despair she could not but admire the noble pride, the noble pride, and she could not and the loyalty of the young chief. Insensibly she fell to musing deeply.

Bitter memories awoke that made her look longingly back too early and innocent days and regret that she had not fallen a victim to this revolution, whose progress such weak hands as hers could never stay. The coach, which had counted for something

in the Schoen attack, had left the village of Elnay some moments before the two parties began skirmishing. Nothing reveals the character of a country more clearly than its means of communication. Looked at in this light, the coach deserves special attention. The revolution itself was powerless to destroy it. It is going yet in our own day. When Turgot resumed the monopoly of conveyance of passengers throughout France, which Louis XIV had granted to a company, he started the fresh enterprise which gave his name to the coaches, or Turgotines. And then out into the provinces went the old chariots of Messrs. de Vosje,

Chautaclare and the widow Lacombe, to do service upon the highways. One of these miserable vehicles came and went between Mayenne and Fugier. They were called Turgeltines, out of pure perversity and by way of antifrasus. Perhaps a dislike for the minister who started the innovation, or a desire to mimic Paris, suggested the appellation. This turgoleteen was a crazy cabriolet with ten. two enormous wheels. Its back seat, which scarcely afforded room for two fairly stout people, served also as a box for carrying the mails. Some care was required not to overload the feeble

structure, but if travellers carried any luggage, it had to lie in the bottom of the coach, a narrow box-like hole shaped like a pair of bellows where their feet and legs were already cramped for room. The original color of the body and the wheels offered an insoluble enigma to the attention of passengers. Two leather curtains, unmanageable in spite of their long service, protected the sufferers from wind and weather. The driver, seated in front on a rickety bench, as in the wretchedest chaisees about Paris, was perforce included in the conversation by reason of his peculiar position among his victims, biped and quadruped. There were fantastic resemblances between the vehicle and some decrepit old man who has come

through so many bronchial attacks and apoplectic seizures that death seems to respect him. It went complainingly and creaked at every other moment. Like a traveller overtaken by heavy slumber, it lurched backwards and forwards as if it would fain have resisted the strenuous efforts of the Little Breton horses that dragged it over a tolerably uneven road. This relic of a bygone time held three passengers. Their conversation had been interrupted at Arnaille while the horses were changed, and was now resumed as they left the place. What makes you think that the showans will show themselves out here? asked the driver. They have just told me at Arnais that the commandant Ullo had not yet left Fugier.

It's all very well for you, friend, said the youngest of the three. You risk nothing but your own skin. If you were known as a good patriot and carried 300 crowns about you, as I do, you wouldn't take things so easily. In any case, you are very imprudent, said the driver, shaking his head. You may count your sheep, and yet the wolf will get them, said the second person. He was dressed in black, looked about forty years of age, and seemed to be a rector thereabouts. His double chin and florid complexion marked him a rednecker.

out as belonging to the church. Short and stout, though he was, he displayed a certain agility each time he got in or out of the conveyance. Are you shoe-uns? cried the owner of the three hundred crowns. His voluminous goat-skin cloak covered breeches of good cloth and a very decent waistcoat, all signs of a well-to-do farmer. the soul of St. Robespierre, he went on, you shall be well received. He looked from the driver to the rector and showed them both the pistols at his waist. Bretons are not to be frightened that way, said the curé, and besides that, do we look as if we wanted your money?

Each time the word money was mentioned, the driver became silent. The rector's wits were keen enough to make him suspect that the patriot had no money, and that there was some cash in the keeping of their charioteer. "'Have you much of a load, Coupillo?' he inquired. "'Next to nothing, as you may say, Monsieur Goudin,' replied the driver. Mr. Goudin looked inquiringly from Coupio to the Patriot at this, but both countenances were alike imperturbable. So much the better for you, answered the Patriot. I shall take my own measures for protecting my money if anything goes wrong.

This direct assumption of despotic authority provoked Coupio into replying roughly, I am the master here in the coach, and so long as I take you to— Are you a patriot or a schoen? interrupted his adversary sharply. I am neither, answered Coupio. I am a postillion, and what is more, a Breton, and therefore I am not afraid of blues nor of gentlemen. Gentlemen of the road you mean.

said the patriot sardonically. They only take what others have taken from them, put in the rector quickly, while the eyes of either traveller stared at the other as if to penetrate into either's brain. In the interior of the coach sat a third passenger, who remained absolutely silent through the thick of the debate. Neither the driver, the patriot, nor good. himself took the slightest heed of this non-entity. As a matter of fact, he was one of those tiresome and inconvenient people who travel by coach

as passively as a calf that is carried with its legs tied up to a neighboring market. At the outset, they possess themselves of at least the space allotted to them by the regulations, and end by sleeping without consideration or humanity on their neighbor's shoulders. The Patriot, Goudin, and the driver, had let him alone, thinking that he was asleep, as soon as they ascertained that it was useless to attempt to converse with a man whose stony countenance bore the records of a life spent in measuring ls of cloth, and a mind bent solely upon buying cheap and selling deer. Yet, in the corner where he lay curled up,

a pair of china-blue eyes opened from time to time. The stout little man had viewed each speaker in turn with alarm, doubt, and mistrust. But he seemed to stand in fear of his traveling companions, and to trouble himself very little about shoe-ons. The driver and he looked at one another like a pair of freemasons. Just then, the firing began at La Pelerine. Coupillo stopped in dismay, not knowing what to do. Ah-ho, said the churchman, who seemed to grasp the situation.

This is something serious. There are a lot of people about. The question is who will get the best of it, Monsieur Goudin?" cried Coupio, and this time the same anxiety was seen on all faces. Let us put up at the inn down there and hide the coach till the affair is decided, suggested Coupio. This advice seemed so sound that Coupio acted upon it, and with the Patriots help concealed the coach behind a pile of faggots.

The supposed rector found an opportunity of whispering to Coupio, "'Has he really any money?' "'Ah, Monsieur Goudin, if all he has found its way into your reverences' pockets, they would not be very heavy.' End of Section 4. Section 5 of the Shouans by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Alan Marrage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Read by Bruce Piri.

Chapter 1E. The Republicans, hurrying to reach Arnais, came past the inn without stopping there. The sound of their rapid march brought Goudin and the innkeeper to the door to watch them curiously. All at once, the stout ecclesiastic, made a dash at a soldier who was lagging behind. Ah, he cried. Goodin, are you really going with the blues?

Infatuated boy. Do you know what you are about? Yes, uncle, answered the corporal. I have sworn to fight for France. But your soul is in danger, scapegrace, cried his uncle, appealing to the religious scruples that are so strong in Breton hearts. Well, Uncle, I won't say but that if the King had put himself at the head of his—

Idiot! Who is talking about the King? Will your Republic give preferment? It has upset everything. What kind of career do you expect? Stay with us. We shall triumph, some day or other, and then you shall be made counsellor to some parliament. A Parliament?

asked Goodin, mockingly. Goodbye, uncle. You shall not have the worth of three Louis from me. I shall disinherit you, his uncle called angrily after him. Thanks, said the Republican, and they parted. The fumes of cider to which the patriot had treated Coupio while the little troop was passing had succeeded in obscuring the driver's intelligence somewhat, but he brightened up again when the landlord, having

learned the upshot of the struggle, brought the news of a victory for the blues. Coupio brought out his coach upon the road again, and they were not long in showing themselves in the bottom of the valley of La Pelerine. From the plateaus of men and of Brittany both, it was easy to see the coach lying in the trough between two great waves, like a bit of wreckage after a storm at sea. Ullo, meanwhile, had reached the summit of a slope that the blues were climbing. La Palarin was still in sight, a long way off, so he turned to see if the Schoen's still remained on the spot.

The sunlight shining on the barrels of their muskets marked them out for him as a little group of bright dots. As he scanned the valley for the last time before quitting it for the valley of Arnais, he thought he could discern Coupio's chariot on the high road. "'Isn't that the Mayenne coach?' he asked of his two comrades, who turned their attention to the old Turgoltine and recognized it perfectly well. "'Well, then, how was it that we did not meet it?' asked Ullo, as all three looked at each other in silence.

Here is one more enigma,' he went on. I begin to have an inkling of the truth. Just at that very instant, Marsh Aterre also discovered the Turgotin and pointed it out to his comrades. A general outburst of rejoicing aroused the young lady from her musings. She came forward and saw the coach as it sped up the hillside with luckless haste. The miserable Turgotein reached the plateau almost immediately, and And the Shouans, who had hidden themselves, once more rushed out upon their prey in greedy

haste. The dumb traveller slipped down into the bottom of the coach and cowered there, trying to look like a package. Well, cried Coupio from the box, so you have smelt out the patriot there. He has money about him, a bag full of gold. And as he spoke, he pointed out the small farm. only to find that the Schuens hailed his remarks with a general roar of laughter and shouts of P. Mish! P. Mish! P. Mish! In the midst of the hilarity which P. Mish himself echoed,

Coupio came down from the box in confusion. The famous Sibo, alias P. Mish, aided his companion to a light and a respectful murmur arose. It is the Abbe Goudin, cried several voices. All hats went off at the name, and the showins knelt to ask for his blessing, which was gravely given. Then the Abbe clapped Piemich on the shoulder. He would deceive St. Peter himself and steal away the keys of paradise, he cried, but for him the blues would have stopped us.

And, seeing the young lady, he spoke with her a few paces aside. Marsh Aterre adroitly raised the seat of the coach, and, with ferociously, extracted a bag which, from its shape, evidently contained rouleaus of gold. He was not long about dividing the spoil. There were no disputes, for each shewain received his exact share. Lastly, he went up to the lady and the priest, and presented them with about six thousand francs. Can I take this with a clear conscience, Monsieur Goudin?"

The lady asked, feeling within her the need of a sanction. Why not, madame? In former times did not the Church approve the confiscation of Protestant goods? And we have stronger reasons for despoiling these revolutionaries who denies. deny God, plunder churches, and persecute religion. Thereupon the Abbe added example to precept and took, without scruple, the tenth in new coin which Mache Ater offered him. However, he added, I can now dedicate all I have to the service of God and the king. My nephew has cast in his lot with the blues.

Coupio was lamenting and bewailed himself for a ruined man. "'Come along with us,' said Marchetere. "'You shall have your share. "'Every one will say that I set out to be robbed, "'if I go back again and there are no traces of violence.' "'Oh, if that is all you want,' said Marciateur, "'he made a sign and a volley of musketry riddled the Turgill The old coach gave a cry, so piteous at this salute, that the Shuans, naturally superstitious,

fell back in alarm, save Marcheter, who had seen the pale face of the mute traveller as it rose and fell inside. There is one more foul yet in your coop, Marcheter said in a low voice to cupio. P. Mish, who saw what this meant, winked significantly. Yes, replied the driver, but I made it a condition when I enlisted with you that I was to take this worthy man safe and sound to Fugier. I promised that, in the name of the saint of O'Re. Who is he? asked P. Mish. I can't tell you that, said Coupio.

Let him alone, said Marshter. nudging Pia Mish with his elbow. He swore by the Holy Virgin of Oray, and a promise is a promise. But don't be in too great a hurry down the hill, the Shuan went on, addressing Coupio. We will catch you up for reasons of our own. I want to see the muzzle of that passenger of yours, and then we will give him a passport. A horse was heard approaching La Pellarine at full-gern.

gallop. In a moment the young leader returned, and the lady promptly tried to conceal her hand with the bag in it. "'You need not scruple to keep that money,' he said, drawing the lady's arm forward. Here is a letter for you among those that awaited me at the Vietier. It is from your mother.' He looked from the coach which now descended the hill to the Schuens and added, in spite of my haste I am too late. Heaven send that my fears are ill-grounded.

That is my poor mother's money, cried the lady, when she had broken the seal of the letter and read the first few lines. Sounds of smothered laughter came from the woods. The young man himself could not help smiling at sight of the lady with a share of the plunder of her own property in her hands. she began to laugh herself well i escape without blame for once marquis she said heaven be praised

so you take all things with a light heart even remorse the young man asked but she flushed up with such evident contrition that he relented the abb politely handed to her the tents he had just received with as good a face as he could put upon it and followed the young leader who was returning by the way he had come. The young lady waited behind for a moment and beckoned to Mosh Atair. You must go over towards Montaigne, she said in a low voice. I know that the blues must be continually transmitting large sums of money to Alonso for the prosecution of the war. I give up to your comrades the money. I have lost today, but I shall expect them to make it up to me.

And before all things, the gar is not to know the reason for this expedition, but if anything should go wrong, I will pacify him." Madame, the Marquis began as she sat behind him en croup, having made over her horse to the Abbe. Our friends in Paris are writing to tell us to keep a sharp lookout. for the Republic means to take us with craft and guile. Well, they might do worse, she replied. It is not at all a bad idea of theirs.

I shall take part now in the war and meet the enemy on my own ground. Faith, yes, said the Marquis. Pishagru warns me to be on my guard as to friendships of every kind. the Republic does me the honor to consider me more formidable than all the Vondayans put together, and thinks to get me into its grasp by working on my weaknesses. Are you going to suspect me? she asked, tapping his breast with the hand by which she held him close to her. Would you be there in my heart if I could, he said, and turned to receive a kiss. on his forehead.

Then we are like to run more risks from Foucher's police than from regular troops or from countershoens, was the Abbe's comment. Your reverence is quite right. Aha, the lady exclaimed, so Fouchet is going to send women against you. I am ready for them, she added after a brief pause. with a deeper note in her voice. Meanwhile, some four gunshots from the lonely plateau which the leaders had just quitted,

a drama was being enacted of a kind to be common enough on the highways for some time. Beyond the little village of La Pellarine, Pia Miche and Marsh Aterre had again stopped the coach in a place where the road widened out. Coupio, after a few, feeble resistance came down from the box. The taciturn traveler, dragged from his hiding place by the two shoe-uns, found himself on his knees in a bush of broom.

"'Who are you?' asked Marsha Ther, in threatening tones. The traveler did not answer at all till P. Emish recommenced his examination with a blow from the butt end of his musket. Then, with the glance at Coupio, the man spoke. I am Jacques Pino, a poor linen-draper. Coupio seemed to think that he did not break his word by shaking his head. P. Mish acted on the hint and pointed his musket at the traveler, while Marcia Tere deliberately uttered this terrible ultimatum. You are a great deal too fat,

to know the pinch of poverty. If we have to ask you for your name again, here is my friend P. Amish, with his musket, ready to earn the esteem and gratitude of your heirs. Now, who are you? he asked after a pause. I am D'Orgement of Fugierre. Ha! cried the two shewants. I did not betray you, Monsieur de said cupio the holy virgin is my witness that i did my best to protect you since you are monsieur d'orgment of fujer replied macheteer with a fine affectation of respect of course we must let you go in peace but still as you are neither good shuwen nor genuine blue for you it was who bought the property of the abbey of juvigny you are going to pay us three hundred crowns. Here he seemed to count the number of the party, and went on,

of six francs each. Neutrality is cheap at the price. Three hundred crowns of six francs each, echoed the unlucky banker in chorus with Coupio and P. Amish, each one with a different intonation. My dear sir, I am a ruined man, he cried. This devil of a Republic taxes us up to the hilt, and this forced loan of a hundred millions has drained me dry. How much did your Republic want of you? A thousand crowns, my dear sir, groaned the banker, thinking to be let off more easily.

If your Republic rings forced loans out of you to that tune, you ought to throw in your lot with us. Our government will cost you less. Three hundred crowns. Isn't your skin worth that? Where am I to find them? In your strong box, said P. Amish, and no clipped coins, mind you, or the fire shall nibble your finger ends. Where am I to pay them over? Your country house at Fugier is not very far from the farm of Gibarie, where lives my cousin, Gallop Chopin, otherwise Big Sibo. You will make them over to him, said P. Mish. It is not business, urged Dorjeumol. What is that to us, said Marchetere? Mind this, if the money isn't paid to Gallop Chopin

within a fortnight, we will pay you a call, and that will cure the gout in your feet if it happens to trouble you. As for you, Coupio, he turned to the driver. Your name in future will be men-a-bien. With that, the two shoe-ins departed. The traveler returned to the coach, and with the help of Coupio's whip, they bowled rapidly along to Fugier. If you had carried arms, Coupio began, we might have defended ourselves better. Simple to replied the banker. I have ten thousand francs there, and he held out his great shoes.

How is one to show fight with a large sum like that about one? Menabien scratched his ear and sent a glance behind him, but his new friends were quite out of sight. At Arnais, Ullo and his men halted a while to leave the wounded in the hospital in the little town,

and finally arrived at Mayen without any further annoyance. The next day put an end to the Commandant's doubts as to the fate of the stagecoach, for everybody knew how it had been stopped and plundered. A few days after, the authorities directed upon Mayen enough patriot conscripts to fill the gaps in Ullo's demi-brigade. Very soon, one disquieterite, rumour followed another concerning the insurrection.

There was complete revolt at all the points which had been centers of rebellion for Shewans and von Neons in the late war. In Brittany, the royalists had made themselves masters of Pontorson, thus securing their communications with the sea. The little town of St. James between Pontorson and Fugier had been taken by them, and it It appeared that they meant to make it their temporary headquarters, their central magazine, and basis of operations. Thence they kept up a correspondence with Normandy and Morbillon in security.

The royalists of the three provinces were brought into concerted action by subaltern officers dispersed throughout the country, who recruited partisans for the monarchy and gave unity to their methods. Exactly similar reports came from Lavande, where conspiracy was rife in the country under the guidance of four well-known leaders, the counts of Fontaine, Chattillon, and Susanne, and the Abbe Vernard. In Orne, their correspondence were said to be the Chevalier de Valois, the Marquis of Esgrignon, and the Trovilles. The real head and center of the vast and formidable plan of operations that gradually became manifest was the gar, for so the showans had dubbed the Marquis of Montau-Ral since his arrival among them. Ullo's dispatches to his government were found to be accurate on all heads. The authority of the newly arrived commander had been recognized at once.

The Marquis had even sufficient ascendancy over the Shu'ans to make them understand the real aim of the war, and to persuade them that the excesses of which they had formerly been guilty sullied the general cause which they had embraced. The cool courage, splendid audacity, resource, and ability of the young noble were reviving the hopes of the foes of the Republic, and had excited the somber enthusiasm of the West to such a pitch that even the most lukewarm were ready to take part in a bold stroke for the fallen monarchy. Ullo's repeated reports and appeals received no reply from Paris.

Some fresh revolutionary crisis, no doubt, caused the astonishing silence. Are appeals to the government going to be treated like accreditor's duns, said the old chief to his friends? Are all our petitions shoved out of sight? But before long, news began to spread of the magical return of General Bonaparte and the events of the 18th of Brumere. Then the commanders in the West began to understand the silence of the the ministers, while they grew impatient of the heavy responsibilities that weighed upon them,

and eager to hear what steps the new government meant to take. Great was the joy in the army when it became known that General Bonaparte had been nominated First Consul of the Republic, and for the first time they saw a man of their own at the head of affairs. had made an idol of the young general and trembled with hope. The capital, grown weary of gloom, gave itself up to festivities long discontinued. The first acts of the consulate abated these hopes no wit and gave liberty no qualms. The first consul issued a proclamation to the dwellers in the West.

Bonaparte had, one might almost say, invented the appeals to the masses which produced such enormous effect in those days of miracles and patriotism. A prophetic voice it was which filled the world, for victory had never yet failed to follow any proclamation of his. Inhabitants. For the second time an unnatural war has been kindled in the department's of the West. The authors of these troubles are traitors in the pay of England, or marauders who hope to secure their own ends and to enjoy immunity amid civil discords. Two such men as

these, the government owes neither consideration nor an explanation of its principles. But there are other citizens, dear to their country, who have been seduced by their artifices, to these citizens, enlightenment and a knowledge of the truth is due. Unjust laws have been promulgated and carried into effect. The security of citizens and their right to liberty of conscience have been infringed by arbitrary measures. Citizens have suffered everywhere from mistaken entries on the list of emigrants. Great principles of social order have been violated. The consul Declar that liberty of worship being guaranteed by the Constitution, the law of the 11th of Prairieal, year three, by which citizens are allowed the use of buildings erected for

religious worship shall now be carried into effect. The government will pardon previous offenses. It will extend mercy and absolute and complete indemnity to the repentant. But it will strike down any who shall dare after this declaration to resist the national sovereignty. Well, said Ullo, after a public reading of the consular manifesto, could anything be more paternal? But for all that, you will see that not a single royalist brigand will change his opinion.

The commandant was right. The proclamation only confirmed each one in his adherence to his own side. Reinforcements for Ullo and his colleagues arrived a few days later. They were notified by the new Minister of War that General Brun was about to assume command in the West, but in the meanwhile Ullo, as an officer known to be experienced, was entrusted with the departments of the Orn and Mayen. Every government department showed unheard of energy. A circular from the Ministry of War and the Minister General of Police gave out that active efforts were to be made through the officers in command to stifle the insurrection at its place of origin.

But by this time the Schuans and von derailedans, profiting by the inaction of the Republic, had aroused the whole country and made them themselves masters of it. So a new consular proclamation had to be issued. This time the general spoke to his troops. Soldiers, all who now remain in the West are marauders or emigrants in the pay of England. The army numbers more than sixty thousand heroes. Let me learn soon that the rebel leaders exist no longer. Glory is only to be had at the price of fatigue, who would not acquire it if it were to be gained by stopping in town quarters.

Soldiers, no matter what your rank in the army, the gratitude of the nation awaits you. To be worthy of that gratitude, you must brave the inclemency of the seasons, frost and snow and the bitter cold of winter nights. You must surprise your enemies at daybreak and destroy those wretches who disgrace the name of Frenchmen. Let the campaign be short and sharp, show no mercy to the marauders, and preserve strict discipline among yourselves. National guards add your efforts to those of the troops of the line.

If you know of any partisans of the bandits among yourselves, arrest them. them nowhere find a refuge from the soldier who pursues them, and should traitors dare to receive and protect them, let both alike perish. What a fellow, cried Ullo. It is just as it used to be in Italy. First he rings the bells for Mass, and then he goes and says it. Isn't that plain speaking? Yes, but he speaks for himself.

and in his own name, said Gerard, who began to feel some concern for the results of the eighteenth of Brumere. Ah, Saint-Garit, what does it matter? Isn't he a soldier? cried Merle. A few paces away some soldiers had made a group about the placard on the wall. As no one among them could read, they eyed it, some with curiosity, others with indifference, while one or two looked out for some passing citizen who should appear scholar enough to decipher it. What does that scrap of paper mean now, Clay Decaire? asked Beaupier, banteringly.

It is quite easy to guess, said Clay Decaire. Everybody looked up at these words for the usual comedy to begin between the two comrades. Now look here, went on Clay DeCare, pointing to a round. rough vignette at the head of the proclamation, where a pair of compasses had in the past few days replaced the plum-line level of 1793. That means that we soldiers will have to step out. That's why the compasses are open. It's an emblem.

No, my boy, you can't come the scholar over us. That thing is called a problem. I served once in the artillery, he added, and that was what my officers fairly lived on. It's an emblem. A problem! Let us lay a bet on it. What? Will you stake your German pipe?

Done. No offence to you, sir, said Clay Descartes to Gerard. But isn't that an emblem and not a problem? It is both the one and the other, said Gerard gravely. He was musing as he prepared to follow Ullo and Merle. The adjutant is laughing at us, said Bopier. That paper says that our general in Italy has been made consul, which is a fine promotion, and we are all to have new caps and shoes.

end of section five section six of the shewans by honore de balzac translated by ellen marriage this libravox recording is in the public domain read by bruce peary chapter two a a notion of fuchess One morning towards the end of the month of Broomer, after an order from the government had concentrated Ullo's troops upon Mayenne, that officer was engaged in drilling his demi-brigade. An express from Alon-San arrived with dispatches, which he read, while intense annoyance expressed itself in his face. "'Come forward!' he cried peevishly, stuffing the papers into his hat. Two companies are to set out with me to march upon Mortagne. The schoen's are there. You shall accompany me, he said, turning to Merle and Gerard.

May I be a noble if I understand a word of this? I may be a fool, but no matter. Forward. There is no time to lose. What sort of fearful foul could come out of that game bag? asked Merle, kicking the fallen envelope. ta'er de dieu they are making fools of us that is all whenever this expression explained above escaped the commandant it always meant a storm of some sort the modulations of his voice when he uttered this phrase indicated to the demi-brigade like the degrees of a thermometer the amount of patience left in their chief and the outspoken old soldier made this knowledge so easy

that the most mischievous drummer could take his measure by remarking his shades of manner in puckering up his cheek and winking. This time the suppressed anger with which he brought out the word, silenced his friends and made them circumspect. The pock marks on his martial countenance seemed deeper and darker than usual. As he put on his three-cornered hat, his large-plated cue had slipped round about, upon one shoulder. Ullo pushed it back so violently that the little curls were unsettled. However, as he remained motionless, with his arms locked across his chest and his mustache a bristle with rage, Gerard ventured to ask,

Must we set out at once? Yes, if the cartridge boxes are filled. He growled out. They are all full. arms, left file, forward march, ordered Gerard at a sign from Ullo. The drums headed the two companies chosen by Gerard. The commandant plunged in his own thoughts, seemed to rouse himself at the sound, and went out of the town between his two friends without a word to either.

Now and again Merle and Gerard looked at each other as if to say, how long is he going to be sulky with us? And as they went, they furtively glanced at Ullo, who muttered chance words between his teeth. Something very like an oath at times reached the soldier's ears, but neither dared to say a word, for on occasion all could preserve the severe discipline to which Bonaparte had accustomed his troops in Italy.

Ullo and most of his men represented all that was left of the famous battalions who surrendered at Mayans on condition that they should not be employed upon the frontiers, and the army had nicknamed them the Mayonse. It would have been difficult to find officers and men who understood each other better. The earliest hours of the next morning found Ullo and his friends a league beyond Alonso on the Mortagna side, on a road through the meadows beside. the sard. On the left lie stretches of picturesque lowland, while on the right the dark woods, part of the great forest

of Menil-Bruh form a set-off, to borrow a word, from the studio, to the lovely views of the river. The clearings of the ditches, on either hand, which are constantly thrown up in a mound on their further sides, form high banks, on the top of which firs-bushes grow. Ajonks, as they call them, in the West. These dense bushes furnished excellent winter fodder for horses and cattle, but so long as they remained uncut, the dark green clumps served as hiding places for showans. These banks and furs bushes, signs which tell the traveller that he is nearing Brittany,

made this part of the journey in those days, as dangerous as it was beautiful. The dangers involved by a journey from Mortagne to Alonso and from Alonso to Mayenne had caused Ullo's departure, and now the secret of his anger finally escaped him. He was escorting an old male coach drawn by post-horses, which the weariness of the soldiers compelled to move at a foot pace. The companies of Blues belonging to the garrison of Mortagna were visible as black dots in the distance on their way back thither. They had accompanied this shocking conveyance within their prescribed limits, and here Ullo must succeed them in the service, a patriotic boar, as the soldiers not unjustly called it. One of the old Republicans' companies took up its position a little in front, and the other a little behind the Kalash, and Ullo, who found himself between Merle and Gerard at an

equal distance from the vehicle and the vanguard, suddenly said, "'Milat-on-Air! Would you believe that the general has drafted us out of Mayen to escort a couple of petticoats in this old Furgon?" But not so long since, Commandant," said Gerard, when we took up our position, you made your bow to the citoyens with a good enough grace. Ah, that is the worst of it! Don't these dandies in Paris require us to pay the greatest attention to their damned females? How can they bring dishonor on good and brave patriots like us by setting up to their damned females?

setting us to dangle after a petticoat. I run straight myself and I don't like crooked ways in others. When I saw that d'Anton and Bowera had mistresses, I used to say, citizens when the Republic called on you to govern, it was not that you might play the same games as the old regime. You will say now that women? Must have women, that is right enough. Brave men must have women, look you, and good women, too. But when things grow serious, Prattling ought to stop. Why did we sweep the old abuses away if patriots are to begin them again?

Look at the first consul now. That is a man for you. No women always at work. I would wager my left mustache. He knows nothing of this foolish business. business. Really, Commandant, laughed Merle. I have seen the tip of the nose of the young lady there hidden on the back seat, and I am sure that no one need be blamed for feeling, as I do, a sort of hankering to take a turn round the coach and have a scrap of conversation with the ladies. Look out, Marilla, said Gerard. There's a citizen along with the pretty, birds, quite sharp enough to catch you. Who? The incroarabler, whose little eyes keep dodging about from one side of the road to the other,

as if he saw shoe-ins everywhere? That dandy, whose legs you can scarcely see and whose head, as soon as his horse's legs are hidden behind the carriage, sticks up like a duck from a pie. If that ninkum-poop hinders me from stroking the pretty, white throat. Duck and white throat! My poor Merle!

My fancy has taken wings with a vengeance. Don't be too sure of the duck. His green eyes are as treacherous as a vipers, and as shrewd as a woman's when she pardons her husband. I would sooner trust a shrewan than one of these lawyers with a face like a decanter of lemonade. bah cried merle gaily with the commandant's leave i shall risk it that girl has eyes that shine like stars one might run all hazards for a sight of them he is smitten said gerard to the commandant he is raving already ullo made his grimace shrugged his shoulder and said i advise him to smell his soup before he takes it

honest merle what spirits he has said gerard judging by the slackening of the other's pace that he meant to allow the coach to overtake take him. He is the only man that can laugh when a comrade dies without being thought heartless. He is a French soldier every inch of him, said Ullo gravely. Only look at him, pulling his epaulets over his shoulders to show that he is a captain, cried Gerard, laughing, as if his rank would do anything for him there. There were, in fact, two women in the vehicle towards which the officer turned. One seemed to be the mistress, the other her maid. That sort of woman always goes about in pairs, said Ullo.

A thin, dried-up little man hovered sometimes before, sometimes behind the carriage. But though he seemed to accompany the two privileged travelers, no one had yet seen either of them speak a word to him. This silence, whether respectful or contemptuous, the numerous trunks and boxes belonging to the princess, as he called her, everything, down to the costume of her attendant cavalier, helped to stir Ullo's bile. The stranger's dress was an exact picture of the fashions of the time, of the incoieble at an almost burlesque pitch.

Imagine a man muffled up in a coat with front so short that five or six inches of waistcoat were left on view, and coat tails so long behind that they resembled the tail of the codfish after which they were named. A vast cravat wound round his throat in such numerous folds that his little head issuing from the labyrinth of muslin, almost justified Captain Merle's gastronomical simile. The stranger wore tight-fitting breeches and boots, a la Suvarov. A huge blue and white cameo served as a shirtpin, a gold-watched chain hung in two parallel lines from his waist.

His hair hung on either side of his face in corkscrew ringlets, which almost covered his forehead, While by way of final adornment, his shirt collar, like the collar of his coat, rose to such a height that his head seemed surrounded by it, like a bouquet in its cornet of paper. Over and above the contrast of these insignificant details, all at odds among themselves and out of harmony, imagine a ludicrous strife of colors, yellow breeches. red waistcoat and cinnamon-brown coat, and you will form a correct notion of the last decrees of elegance as obeyed by dandies in the early years of the consulate. This extravagantly absurd toilette might have been devised as an ordeal for comeliness,

or to demonstrate that there is nothing so ridiculous but that fashion can hallow it. The Cavalier seemed to be about thirty years of age, though in reality he was barely two and twenty. Hard living, or the perils of the times, had perhaps brought this about. In spite of his fantastic costume, there was a certain grace of manner revealed in his movements which singled him out as a well-bred man. As the captain reached the coach, the young exquisite seems. to guess his intentions, and assisted them by checking his own horse.

Merle's satirical eyes fell upon an impenetrable face, trained, like many another, by the vicissitudes of the revolution, to hide all feeling, even of the slightest. The moment that the curved edge of a shabby-cocked hat and the captain's epaulettes came within the ladies' ken, a voice of angelic sweetness asked him, Would you kindly tell us where we are now, Monsieur Loficiere? There is an indescribable charm in such a question, by the way. A whole adventure seems to lurk behind a single word. And furthermore, if the lady, by reason of weakness or lack of experience, asks for some

protecting aid, does not every man feel an inward promise? to weave fancies of an impossible happiness for himself. So the polite formality of her question and her Monsieur L'Officier vaguely perturbed the captain's heart. He tried to distinguish the lady's face and was singularly disappointed. A jealous veil hid her features. He could scarcely see her eyes gleaming behind the gauze, like two to agates lit up by the sun.

You are now within a league of Alonsohn, madame. Alonanan already, and the stranger lady fell back in the carriage without making any further reply. Alonon said the other woman, who seemed to rouse herself, you are going to revisit? She looked at the captain and checked herself. maryla disappointed in his hope of a sight of the fair stranger took a look at her companion she was a young woman of some twenty-six years of age fair-haired well-shaped with the freshness of complexion and unfading brightness of color which distinguishes the women of valonia bayou and the allonson district Sprightliness there was not in the expression of her blue eyes, but a certain steadfastness and tenderness. She wore a dress of some common material.

Her way of wearing her hair, modestly gathered up and fastened under a little cap, such as peasant women wear in the pey de co, made her face charming in its simplicity. There was none of the conventional grace of the salons in her manner. but she was not without the dignity natural to a young girl who could contemplate the scenes of her past life without finding any matter for repentance in them. At a glance Merle recognized in her one of those country blossoms which have lost none of their pure coloring and rustic freshness, although they have been transplanted into the hot-houses of Paris where the withering glare of men's many rays of light has been brought to bear upon them. Her quiet looks and unaffected manner made it plain to Marla that she did not wish for an audience.

Indeed, when he fell away, the two women began a conversation in tones so low that the murmur scarcely reached his ears. You set out in such haste, said the young countrywoman, that you had barely time to dress, A pretty sight you are. If we are going any farther than Alon-San, you will really have to change your dress there. Oh, Francine, said the other. What do you say? This is the third time that you have tried to learn where we are going and why.

Have I said anything whatever to deserve this reproof? Oh, I have noticed your little ways, simple. and straightforward as you used to be, you have learned a little strategy of my teaching. You begin to hold direct questions in abhorrence. Quite right, my child. Of all known methods of getting at a secret, that one is, in my opinion, the most futile. Very well, said Francine, as one cannot hide anything from you, admit at least, Marie, that your doings would make.

Make a saint inquisitive. Yesterday morning you had nothing whatever. Today you have gold in plenty. At Mortagna, they assign the mail coach to you which has just been robbed and lost its driver. You are given an escort by the government, and a man whom I regard as your evil genius is following you. Who, Coranta? asked her companion.

Throwing emphasis into the two words by separate intonations of her voice, there was a contempt in it that overflowed even into the gesture by which she indicated the horseman. Listen, Francine, she went on, do you remember Patriot, the monkey that I taught to mimic d'Anton and which amused us so much? Yes, mademoiselle. Were you afraid of him? But he was chained up. And Quarenton is muzzled, my child.

We used to play with Patriot for hours together, I know, said Francine. But he always played us some ugly trick at last. And Francine flung herself suddenly back in the carriage, and taking her mistress's hands, stroked them caressingly as she went on tenderly. But you know what is in my thoughts, Marie, and yet you say nothing to me. After the sorrows which have given me so much pain! Ah, how much pain! How should twenty-four hours put you in such spirits, wild as the moods when you used to talk of taking your life?

What has brought the change about? You owe me some account of yourself. You belong to me rather than to any of any of you. whatever, for you will never be better loved than by me. Tell me, Mademoiselle. Very well, Francine. Do you not see all about us the cause of my high spirits? Look at those clumps of trees over there, yellow and seer, no one like another.

Seen from a distance might they not be a bit of old tapestry in some chateau? See these hedges behind which shoe-uns might be met with at any moment. As I look at those tufts of gorse, I seem to see the barrels of muskets. I enjoy this succession of perils about us. Every time that there is a deeper shadow across the road, I think to hear the report of firearms, and my heart beats with an excitement I've never felt before. It is neither fear nor pleasure that moves me so.

It is a better thing. It is the free play of all that stirs within me. It is life. How should I not be glad to have revived my own existence a little? Ah, you are telling me nothing, hard, heart. Holy Virgin, to whom will she confess, if not to me? said Francine, sadly raising her eyes. to heaven.

Francine, her companion, answered gravely, I cannot tell you about my enterprise. It is too horrible this time. But why do evil with your eyes open? What would you have? I detect myself thinking like a woman of 50 and acting like a girl of 15. You have always been my better,

my poor girl, but this time I must stifle my conscience. She paused as a sigh escaped her, and I shall not succeed. But how can I keep such a strict confessor beside me? And she softly tapped the other's hand. Ah, when have I reproached you with anything? cried Francine. Evil in you has so much grace with it. Yes, St. Anne of O'Re, to whom I pray so often for you, will absolve you, and for the rest, am I not come beside you now, though I do not know where your way is taking you?

She kissed her mistress's hands with this outburst. But you can leave me, said Marie, if your conscience— Not another word, madame, said Francine with a little sorrow. twill twitch of the lips. Oh, will you not tell me? Nothing, said the young lady firmly. Only be sure of this, that the enterprise is even more odious to me than the smooth-tongued creature who explained its nature.

I wish to be candid, so to you I confess that I would not have lent myself to their wishes if I had not seen in this ignoble farce some gleams of mingled love and terror which attracted me. Then I would not leave this vile world without an effort to gather the flowers I look for from it, even if I must die for them. But remember, for it is due to my memory that had my life been happy, That great knife of theirs held above my head would never have forced me to take apart in this tragedy, for tragedy it is. A gesture of disgust escaped her. Then she went on.

But now, if the peace were to be withdrawn, I should throw myself into the sart, and that would be in no sense a suicide, for as yet I have not lived. a holy virgin of o'eray forgive her what are you afraid of the dreary ups and downs of domestic life arouse no emotions in me as you know this is ill in a woman but my soul has loftier capacities in order to abide mightier trials i should have been perhaps a gentle creature like you Why am I so much above or below other women? Ah, how happy is the wife of General Bonaparte, but I shall die young, for even now I have come not to shrink from that kind of pleasure which means drinking blood, as poor Danton used to say. Now forget all this that the woman of fifty within me says. The girl of fifteen will soon reappear.

Thank heaven. The younger woman shuddered. She alone understood the fiery and impetuous nature of her mistress. She only had been initiated into the mysteries of an inner life full of lofty imaginings, the ideas of the soul for whom life had hitherto seemed intangible as a shadow which she longed to grasp. There had been no harvest after all her shudder, her nature had never been touched. She was harassed by futile longings, wearied by a struggle

without an opponent, so that in despair she had come to prefer good to evil if it came as an enjoyment, and evil to good if only an element of poetry lurked behind, to prefer wretchedness as something grander than a life of narrow comfort, and death, with its dark uncertainties, to an existence of starved hopes or insignificant sufferings. Never has so much powder awaited the spark. Such wealth laying in store for love to consume, so much gold being mingled with the clay in a daughter of Eve. this nature, Fonseen watched like an angel on earth, worshipping its perfection, feeling

that she should fulfill her mission if she preserved for the choir above. This seraph kept afar as an expiation of the sin of pride. That is the steeple of Alon-San, said there cavalier as he drew near to the coach. So I see, said the lady dryly. Very well, he said and fell back again with all the tokens of abject submission in spite of his disappointment. Quicker, cried the lady to the postilion. There is nothing to fear now. Go on at a trot or a gallop if you can.

We are on the causeway of Alonso, are we not? As she passed him, she called graciously to, Ullo. We shall meet each other at the inn, commandant. Come and see me. Just so, he replied, I am going to the inn, come and see me. That is the way to speak to the commandant of a demi-brigade. He jerked his fist in the direction of the vanishing coach.

Don't grumble, commandant, said Carant, laughing. She has your generals' commission in her sling. leave, and he tried to put his horse to a gallop to overtake the coach. Those good folks shall not make a fool of me, growled Ullo to his two friends. I would sooner fling my general's uniform into a ditch than get it through a woman's favor. What do the geese mean? Do you understand their drift, either of you? Quite well, said Merle.

I know that she is the handsomest woman I ever set eyes on. You don't understand figures of speech, I think. Perhaps it is the first consul's wife. Stuff, his wife is not young, and this one is, answered Ullo. Besides, the orders I have received from the minister inform me that she is Mademoiselle de Vernauie. She is a sea-de-von, don't I know that? They used to carry on like this before the Revolution.

You could be chief of a demi-brigade in a brace of shakes. You had only to say to them, Moncair, once or twice, with the proper emphasis. End of Section 6. Section 7 of the Schuens by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, read by Bruce Piri. Chapter 2B.

As each soldier stepped out to use their commandant's phrase, the wretched vehicle which then served for a mail coach had quickly reached the sign of the three moors in the middle of the principal street of Alonsohn. The rattle of the crazy conveyance brought the landlord to the threshold. Nobody in Alonan had expected that chance would bring the coach to the sign of the three moors, but the horrible event at Mortagne brought out so many people to look at it. that its occupants to escape the general curiosity fled into the kitchen, the antechamber of every inn throughout the west. The host was preparing to follow them after a look at the coach

when the postillion caught his arm. "'Look here, Citizen Brutus,' he said. There is an escort of blues on the way. As there was neither driver nor dispatches, it was my doing that the citoyens came to you. Of course, they will pay like Ced avon princesses, and so— And so we will have a glass of wine together directly, my boy, said the landlord. Mademoiselle de Verneux gave one glance around the smoke-blackened kitchen,

and at the stains of raw meat on the table, and then fled like a bird into the next room. for the appearance and odor of the place dismayed her quite as much as the inquisitive looks which a slovenly cook and a short stout woman fastened upon her how are we going to manage wife said the landlord who the devil would think so many people would come here as times go now she will never have the patience to wait till i can serve her up a suitable meal my word i have hit upon it they belong to the quality why shouldn't they breakfast with the lady upstairs eh when the host looked about for the newcomers he found only francine whom he drew to the side of the kitchen nearest the yard so that no one could overhear him and said If the ladies wished to breakfast by themselves, as I expect they do, I have a very nice meal now ready for a lady and her son. They would not object, of course, to breakfasting with you. He went on mysteriously.

They are people of quality. The words were hardly out before the landlord felt a light blow on the back from a whip handle. He turned quickly and saw behind him. him a short, thick-set man who had come in noiselessly from a closet adjoining. The stout woman, the cook, and his assistant, seemed frozen with terror by this apparition. The landlord turned his head away aghast. The short man shook aside the hair which covered his eyes and forehead and stood on tiptoe to whisper in the landlord's ear.

You know what any blabbing or imprudence lays you open to, and the color of the money we pay in. We never grudge it." A gesture rendered his meaning horribly clear. The stout person of the landlord hid the speaker, but Frommsine caught a word here and there of his muttered talk, and stood as if thunderstruck as she listened to the hoarse Sounds of a Breton voice. Amid the general dismay, she sprang towards the speaker,

but he had darted through a side door into the yard with the quickness of a wild animal. Francine thought that she must be mistaken, for she could only see what appeared to be the brindled fell of a fair-sized bear. She ran to the window in surprise and gazed after the figure through the grimy panes. He was slouching off to the stable, but before he entered, he bent two piercing black eyes upon the first story of the inn, and then turned them on the coach, as if he wished to call the attention of someone within to some point of special interest about it. Thanks to this manoeuvre which displayed his face, Franzine recognized the shuan as mush

despite his goat-skin cloak, by his heavy whip and the lagging gait which he could quicken upon occasion. She watched him still even through the dimness of the stable where he lay down in a heap among the straw, in a spot where he could see all that went on in the inn. Even at close quarters an experienced spy might have taken him for a big Carter's dog curled round, asleep with his muzzle between his paws. His conduct convinced Francine that he had not recognized her. In her mistress's difficult position, she hardly knew whether this was a relief or an annoyance, but her curiosity was wetted by the mysterious connection between the

Schoen's threat and the landlord's proposal, for an innkeeper is always ready to stop two mouths with one morsel. She left the dingy window, whence she had seen Macheteer as a shapeless heap in the darkness, and turned to the landlord, who stood like a man who has made a false step and cannot see how to retrieve it. The Schoen's gesture had petrified the poor fellow. Everyone in the west knew how the Chasseur-du-Rois visited even a suspicion of indiscretion with cruel refinements of torture. The landlord seemed to feel their knives at his throat. The chef stared in terror at the hearth,

where too often they warmed the feet of their victims. The stout woman ceased to pair a potato and gazed stupidly at her husband, while the scullion tried to guess the meaning of this mute terror. Fronsine's curiosity was naturally roused by all this dumb show, with the principal performer absent, though still visible. The Schoen's terrible power pleased her, and although it hardly lay in her meek nature to play the Abigail, for once she was too deeply interested not to use her opportunities for penetrating this mystery.

Good, Mademoiselle accepts your offer, she said gravely. At her words, the landlord started as if from sleep. What offer? He asked in real surprise. What offer? Asked Quentin as he came in. What offer? asked Mademoiselle de Vernaille.

What offer? asked a fourth person from the foot of the staircase as he sprang into the kitchen. Why, to breakfast with your people of distinction, answered Francine impatiently. People of distinction, said the arrival from the staircase, in caustic and mocking tones. This is one of your landlord's jokes and a very poor one. But if it is this young citoyen whom you wish to add to our party, he added, looking at Mademoiselle de Vernaille, it would be folly to decline, my good fellow. In my mother's absence, I accept, and he clapped the bewildered landlord on the shoulder.

The careless grace of youth concealed the insolent pride of his words, which naturally drew the attention of those present to the new actor in the scene. The host put on the face of Pilot at this, washing his hands of the death of Christ. He stepped back and whispered to his plump wife, You are my witness that if anything goes wrong I am not to blame. But at all events, he added in still lower tones, let Monsieur Macheteer know everything. The newcomer was of middle height, and wore the uniform of the Ecole Polytechnique, a blue coat without epaulettes, breaches of the same material,

and black gaiters that reached above the knee. In spite of this sombre costume, Mademoiselle de Vernaille recognized at a glance, the grace of his figure, and an indescribable something which indicated noble birth. At first sight there was nothing remarkable in his face, but something in his features soon made it felt that he was capable of great things. A sunburned face, fair and curling hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a delicately cut nose, all these traits, like the ease of his movements, revealed a life subordinated to lofty sentiments and a mind accustomed to command.

The feature that most clearly revealed his character was a chin like Bonaparte's, or a mouth where the lower lip met the upper in a curve like that of some Acanthus leaf on a Corinthian capital. There nature had exerted all her powers of magic. This young man is no ordinary reason. Republican, said Mademoiselle de Vernaille to herself. She understood everything in a moment, and the wish to please awoke in her. She bent her head a little to one side with a coquettish smile, and the dark eyes shot forth

one of those velvet glances that would awaken life in a heart dead to love. Then the heavy eyelids fell over her black eyes, and their thick lashes. made a curved line of shadow on her cheeks, as she said, We are very much obliged to use her, imparting a thrill to the conventional phrase by the most musical tones her voice could give. All this by-play took place in less time than it takes to describe it, and at once, Mademoiselle de Vernau, turned to the landlord,

asked for her room, found the staircase, and disappeared with Francine, leaving the stranger to decide whether or no she had accepted his invitation. "'Who is the woman?' asked the pupil of the École Polytechnique, of the still further embarrassed and motionless landlord. "'She is the citoyenne, Venue,' answered Quarenta tartly as he ran his eyes over the other jealously. What makes you ask? The stranger hummed a Republican heir and raised his head hotly at Quentin. The two young men looked at one another for a moment like Gamecocks about to fight, and at a glance an undying hatred of each other donned in them both. For the frank gaze of the

soldier's blue eyes, there shone malice and deceit. in Quentin's green orbs. The one naturally possessed a gracious manner. The other could only substitute insinuating dexterity of address. The first would have rushed forward where the other slunk back. The one commanded the respect that the other sought to obtain. The first seemed to say, let us conquer. The second, let us divide the spoil. Is the citizen du Guas here? asked a peasant at the door. What do you want with him? asked the young man coming forward. The peasant made a deep reverence and handed him a letter which the young man read and threw into the fire. He nodded by way

of answer, and the peasant went away. You have come from Paris, no doubt, citizen, said Coranta, coming up to him with a familiar and cringing complacence that the citizen Du Guas could hardly endure. Yes, he replied dryly. Some appointment in the artillery, I expect. No, citizen, in the Navy. Ah, then you are going to breast. said corinthain carelessly but the young sailor turned away quickly on his heel without replying he soon disappointed the fair expectations that mademoiselle de vernon had formed of him

a puerile interest in his breakfast absorbed him he discussed recipes with the chef and the landlady opened his eyes at provincial ways like a fledgling parisian picked out of his enchanted shell affected repugnances and altogether showed a weakness of mind that one would not have expected from his appearance corinthin smiled pityingly as he turned up his nose at the best cider in normandy fah he cried how do you manage to swallow that stuff one could eat and drink it too no wonder the republic suspects a district where they They bang the trees with long poles for their vintage, and lie in wait to shoot travellers on the road. Don't put that physic on the table for us, but give us some good Bordeaux wine, both white and red, and see above all things that there is a good fire upstairs. Civilization is a long way behind hereabouts, it seems to me.

Ah, he sighed. is but one Paris in the world, and it is a pity indeed that one cannot take it afloat with one. Hello, spoil sauce, he cried to the cook. Do you mean to say you are putting vinegar into the fricassee when there are lemons at hand? And your sheets, Madame landlady, were so coarse that I scarcely slept a wink all night. He then betook himself to playing with a large cane, performing with childish gravity a number of evolutions which decided the place of a youth among

incroiables by the degree of skill and neatness with which they were executed. And out of whippersnappers like that the Republic hopes to construct a navy, said Quarantan confidentially as he scanned the landlord's face. That man is one of Foucher's spies, whispered the sailor to the landlady. I see it in every line of his face. I would swear that he brought that splash of mud on his chin from Paris, but set a thief to catch. A lady entered the kitchen as he spoke,

whom he greeted with every outward sign of respect. Come here, share my wife. He cried, I think I have found someone to share our meal. To share our meal? What nonsense? She replied. It is Mademoiselle de Vernaille, he said, lowering his voice. She perished on the scaffold after the Savine affair.

She had come to Mont to save her brother, the Prince de Ludon, said his mother shortly. You are mistaken, Madame, said Quarantin amiably, and with a little pause on the word Madame. There is a second Mademoiselle de Vernaille. Great families have always several branches. Surprised at his freedom, the lady drew back a pace or two, a sift to scrutinize this unlooked-for speaker. She bent her dark eyes upon him as if he.

she would divine with the woman's keen power of apprehension, why he affirmed Mademoiselle de Vernaille to be yet in existence. Corantin, who at the same time furtively studied the lady, refused her the pleasures of maternity to endow her with those of love. He gallantly declined to believe her to be the happy mother of a son, years of age, seeing her dazzling complexion, her thick arching eyebrows, her still abundant eyelashes, which excited his admiration, and her wealth of black tresses divided on the forehead into two bondo, a style which enhanced the youthfulness of a sprightly face.

It was the force of passion, he thought, and by no means time that had set faint lines on her forehead, and if the piercing eyes drooped somewhat, this might be due rather to the constant expression of lively feelings than to the weariness of her pilgrimage. Corantin then discovered that the cloak she wore was of English materials, and that her bonnet followed some foreign fashion, and was not in the mode called a la Greque, which ruled Parisian toilets. Corantin's nature always led him to suspect evil rather than good, and he began at once to have his doubts as to the patriotism of the pair, while the lady who had as rapidly come to

her own conclusions about Corinthin looked at her son as if to say, who is this quiz? Is he on our side? To this implied question, the young man's manner replied, like his look and gesture, I know nothing about him upon my word, and you cannot suspect him as much as I do. Then, leaving it to his mother to discover the mystery, he went up and whispered to the hostess. Try to find out who the rogue is, and whether he really does accompany that young lady, and why. So you are sure, citizen, said Madame du Guas, looking at Quarantin,

that Mademoiselle de Vernaille is still living? She exists as surely in flesh and blood, madame, as the citizen du Guas sincere. There was a profound irony beneath his words, known only to the lady herself, any other woman would have been disconcerted. Her son suddenly fixed his eyes on Quarantan, who coolly drew out his watch and did not seem to suspect the apprehensions his reply had aroused.

But the lady, uneasy and anxious to know at once whether treachery lurked in the words or chance had directed them, said to Quarantin quite simply, Montieu, how unsafe the roads are. The showans set upon us on the other side of Mortagne. My son narrowly escaped being left there for good. He had two balls through his hat while defending me.

Then, madame, you were in the coach that was plundered by the brigands, in spite of its escort, and which has just brought us hither. You will recognize it, I am. expect. They said, as I came through Mortania, that Shuans to the number of two thousand had attacked the mail, and that everyone, even the travellers, had perished. That is how history is written. The fatuous air with which Quentin spoke, and his drawling tones, recalled some Abitue of la Petit Provence, who has discovered in his sorrow that a piece of political news is false. Alas, madame, he went on, if travellers are murdered at such a short distance from Paris,

what will be the state of affairs in Brittany? Faith, I shall go back to Paris and not venture any further. Is Mademoiselle de Vernaut young and beautiful? asked the lady of their hostess as a sudden thought crossed her mind. Just then the landlord ended the conversation which had so painful an interest for the three speakers by the announcement that breakfast was ready. The young sailor offered his arm to his mother with an assumed familiarity which confirmed Corantin's doubts.

He called out as he reached the staircase. Citizen, if you are traveling with the citoyen, Vernet, and she accepts our landlord's offer, do not hesitate. And though these words were careless and his manner by no means pressing, Corantin went upstairs. As soon as they were some seven or eight steps ahead of the Parisian, the young man pressed the lady's hand affectionately, and said in a low voice, See now the inglorious hazards to which your plans have exposed us.

If we are detected, how are we to escape? And what a part you have made me play? The three entered a large-sized room. Even those unaccustomed to travel in the west would have seen that the landlord had expended all his resources in a lavish preparation for his guests. The table was carefully appointed. The dampness of the room had been driven off by a large fire. The earthenware, linen, and furniture were not intolerably dirty.

Corantin saw that the landlord had put himself about a good deal, as the popular saying is, to please the strangers. So, he thought, these people are not what they wish to appear then. The little youngster is adroit. I took him for a simpleton, but I fancy he is quite as sharp as I am myself." The landlord went to inform Mademoiselle de Vernaut that the young sailor, his mother, and Quarantin awaited her coming. As she did not appear,

The student of the Ecole Polytechnique felt sure that she had raised difficulties, and humming Véyien au Salue de L'Ampier, he went off in the direction of her room. A curiously keen desire possessed him to overcome her scruples and bring her back with him. Perhaps he meant to solve the doubts which disturbed him, or to try to exert over this stranger the authority men like to exercise in the case of a pretty woman. May I be hanged if that is a Republican, thought Quarantin as he went out. The movements of those shoulders showed the courtier, and if that is his mother, he continued as he looked again at Madame Du Gua, I am the Pope.

I believe they are chouince. Let us make certain of their condition. The door soon opened and the young sailor appeared, leading by the hand, Mademoiselle de Vernau, whom he led to her place with presumptuous civility. The devil had lost nothing during the hour which had just passed. With Francine's aid, Mademoiselle de Verneau had equipped herself in a traveling dress more formidable, perhaps, than a ball toilette. For a woman beautiful enough to discard ornaments knows how to relegate the charms of her

toilette to a second place and to avail herself of the attractions of a simplicity that proceeds from art. She wore a green dress charmingly made, and a short jacket or Spencer fastened with loops of twisted braid, a costume which fitted the outlines of her form with a subtlety scarcely girlish, and displayed her slender figure and graceful movements. She came in smiling, with the amiability natural to a woman who can disclose a set of even teeth, white as porcelain, between two red lips, and a couple of fresh childish dimples in her cheeks. She was a little of fresh childish dimples in her cheeks. She had discarded the bonnet, which at first had almost hidden her face from the young

sailor, and could employ the numerous, apparently, unconscious little devices by which a woman displays or enhances the charms of her face and the graces of her head. A certain harmony between her manners and her toilette made her seem so youthful that Madame de Guas thought herself liberal in allowing her some twenty years of age. The coquetry of this change of costume which showed a deliberate effort to please might have aroused hope in the young man, but Mademoiselle de Vernaille bowed slightly without looking at him, and left him to himself with a careless cheerfulness that disconcerted him. Her reserve seemed, to unaccustomed eyes, to indicate neither coquetry nor prudence,

but simple indifference, real or affected. The ingenuous expression which she knew how to assume was inscrutable. There was not a trace in her manner of the anticipation of a conquest. The pretty ways which had already flattered and deceived the young man's self-love, seemed native to her. So the stranger took his place somewhat put out. Mademoiselle de Vernaille took Francine's hand and addressed Madame de Guas in conciliatory tones.

Madame, will you be so good as to allow this girl to breakfast with us? She is rather a friend than a servant, and in these stormy times, devotion can only be repaid by friendship. Indeed, what else is there left to us? To this last observation made in a lowered voice, Madame de Gua replied by a somewhat stiff and mutilated curtsy that revealed her annoyance at coming in contact with so pretty a woman. She stooped to whisper in her son's ear.

Oh, stormy times, devotion, madame, and the waiting woman, this is not Mademoiselle de Vernaut, but some creature sent by Foucher. Mademoiselle de Vernaut became aware of Quentin's presence as they seated themselves. He still submitted the strangers to a narrow inspection, under which they seemed rather uneasy. citizen, she said, I am sure you are too well-bred to wish to follow me about in this way. The Republic sent my relations to the scaffold, but had not the magnanimity to find a guardian for me. So, though against my wish, you have accompanied me so far with a quixotic courtesy quite unheard of. And she sighed,

I am determined not to permit the protecting care you have expended upon me to become a source of annoyance to you. I am in safety here, and you can leave me. She looked at him resolutely and scornfully. Coranta understood her, suppressed a lurking smile about the corners of his crafty mouth, and bowed respectfully. Citoyen, said he, it is always an honor to obey your commands. Beauty is the only queen whom a true Republican can willingly serve. Mademoiselle de Vernaud smiled so significantly and joyously at Francine as he went, that Madame de Guas's suspicions were somewhat allayed, albeit prudent

had come along with jealousy of Mademoiselle de Vernau's perfect loveliness. Perhaps she is Mademoiselle de Vernau, after all, she said to her son. How about the escort, he answered, for vexation had made him discreet in his turn. Is he her jailer or her protector? Is she a friend or an enemy of the government? Madame de Guas' eyes seemed to say that she meant to go to the bottom of this mystery. Coronton's departure appeared to reassure the young sailor, his face relaxed, but the way in which he looked at Mademoiselle de Vernaut,

revealed rather an immoderate love of women in general than the dawning warmth. of a respectful passion. On the other hand, the young lady grew more and more reserved, keeping all her friendly words for Madame de Guas, until the young man grew sulky at being left to himself, and in his vexation assumed airs of indifference. It was all lost, it seemed, upon Mademoiselle de Vernaut, who appeared to be unaffected, but not shy, and reserved without prudishness. After all, this casual meeting of people who were unlikely to know more of each other called

for no special emotion, but a certain constraint and even a vulgar embarrassment began to spoil any pleasure which Mademoiselle de Vernaut and the young sailor had expected from it but a moment before. But women have among themselves such strong interests in common, or such a keen desire for emotions, combined with so wonderful an instinct for finding the right thing to say and do, that they can always break the ice on such occasions. So that, as if one thought possessed both ladies, they began to rally their cavalier, rivaled each other in paying him various small attentions, and joked at his expense. This unanimity of plan set them free from constraint.

Words and looks began to lose their significance and importance. At the end of half an hour, in fact, the two women, already enemies at heart, were outwardly on the best of terms, while the young sailor found that he preferred Mademoiselle de Vernaud's reserve to her present vivacity. He was so tormented that he angrily wished he had not asked her to join them. End of Section 7. Section 8 of the Schuannes by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Alan Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Read by Bruce Peary. Chapter 2C. Madame, said Madame, said Madem. Mademoiselle de Vernaut at last, is your son always as dull as this? Mademoiselle broke in the victim. I was just asking myself what is the good of a pleasure that cannot last. The keenness of my enjoyment is the secret of my dullness. Pretty speeches like that are rather courtly for the Ecole Polytechnique, she said, laughing.

His idea was very natural, mademoiselle, said Madame Duguay, who for her own reasons wished to set her guest at ease. "'Come, why do you not laugh?' said the latter, smiling. "'How do you look when you weep if what you are pleased to call a pleasure depresses you like this?' Her smile, accompanied by a challenge from her eyes which broke through the mask of sedateness, gave some hope to the young sailor. But, inspired by her nature,

which always leads a woman to do too much or too little, the more Mademoiselle de Vernaut seemed to take possession of the young sailor by glances full of the foreshadowing of love, the more she opposed a cool and reserved severity to his gallant expressions, the common tactics which women use to conceal their sentiments, For one moment, and one only, when each had thought to find the other's eyelids lowered, a glance communicated their real thoughts. But they both lowered their eyes as promptly as they had raised them, confounded by the sudden

flash that had agitated both their hearts while it enlightened them. In embarrassment at having said so much in a glance, they did not dare to look at each again. Mademoiselle de Vernaut, anxious to undeceive the stranger, took refuge in a cool politeness, and even seemed to be impatient for their breakfast to be over. You must have suffered much in prison, mademoiselle, queried Madame du Guas. Alas, madame, I feel as though I had not yet ceased to be a prisoner. Is your escort intended to watch you or to watch over you, Mademoiselle?

Are you suspected by the Republic, or are you dear to it?" Mademoiselle de Vernaut felt instinctively that Madame du Guas took but little interest in her, and the question startled her. Madame, she replied, I hardly know what my precise relations with the Republic are at this moment. You make it tremble, perhaps, said the young man, somewhat ironically. Why do you not respect Mademoiselle's secrets? asked Madame de Gua. The secrets of a young girl who has known nothing of life as yet but its sorrows are not

very interesting, madame. But the first consul seems to be exceedingly well disposed, said Madame du Guas, said Madame Duguay, wishful to keep up a conversation which might tell her something that she wanted to know. Do they not say that he is about to repeal the law against emigrants? It is quite true, madame, said the other, almost too eagerly, perhaps. Why then should we arouse Lavande and Brittany? Why kindle the flames of insurrection in France? This generous outburst in which she seemed to put a note of self-reproach moved the young sailor.

He looked attentively at Mademoiselle de Vernaille, but he could read neither hatred nor love in her face. Her face, with its delicate tints that attested the fineness of the skin, was impenetrable. Ungovernable curiosity suddenly attracted. him towards this singular being, to whom he had already felt drawn by strong desire. But you are going to Marian, madame, she asked after a short pause. And if so, mademoiselle, queried the young man. Well, if so, madame, and as your son is in the service of the Republic, These words were uttered with seeming carelessness, but she gave a furtive glance at the two strangers,

such as only women and diplomatists employ, as she continued. You must be in fear of the schoons. An escort is not to be despised. We are almost travelling companions already. Will you come with us to Mayenne? Mother and son looked at each other. and the latter spoke. I hardly know, mademoiselle, whether I do very discreetly in telling you that matters of great importance require us to be in the district of Fugier tonight,

and that so far we have found no means of transport, but women are so generous by nature that I should be ashamed not to trust you. But still, he continued, before we put ourselves in your hands, Let us know, at any rate, if we are likely to issue from them safe and sound. Are you the slave or the mistress of your Republican escort? Forgive the plain speaking of a young sailor, but I see so much that is unusual in your circumstances. In these times, sir, nothing that happens is usual. Believe me, you may accept.

except without hesitation. Above all, she spoke with emphasis, you have no treachery to fear in a straightforward offer made by one who takes no share in party hatreds. Even then the journey will have its perils, he answered with an arched look that gave significance to the commonplace words. What are you afraid of now?

She asked with a mocking. smile. There is no danger that I see for anybody. Is this the woman whose glances reflected my desires? said he to himself. What a tone to take. Does she mean to entrap me? The shrill piercing cry of a screech owl ran out like a dismal portent. It seemed to come from the chimney. What is that? asked me. Mademoiselle de Vernaille, with a gesture of surprise. It is a bad omen for our journey, and how is it that screech-owl's hoot in broad daylight hereabouts?

They do at times, said the young man shortly. Mademoiselle, perhaps we shall bring you ill luck. Is not that what you are thinking? We had better not travel together. This was said with a soberness and gravity. that astonished her. I have no wish to constrain you, sir, she said with aristocratic impertinence,

pray let us keep what little liberty the Republic allows us. If your mother were alone, I should insist. The heavy footsteps of a soldier sounded from the corridor, and Ullo showed a scowling face. Come here, Colonel, said Mademoiselle de Vernaud. smiling and pointing to a chair beside her. Let us occupy ourselves with affairs estate if we must. But do not look so serious.

What is the matter with you? Are there she-uns about? The commandant was staring, open-mouthed at the stranger, at whom he gazed with close attention. Will you take some more hair, mother? Mademoiselle, you are eating nothing. the sailor said to Fonsine, and he busied himself with his companions. But there was something so cruelly earnest in Ullo's surprise and Mademoiselle de Vernaud's attention

that it was dangerous to disregard these facts. What is the matter, Commandant? Do you happen to know me? He asked sharply. Perhaps, answered the Republican. Indeed, I think I had seen you as. a visitor at the school. I never went to school at all, the commandant answered abruptly.

What sort of school may you come from? The Ecole Polytechnique. Oh, ah, yes, those barracks where they trained soldiers in the dormitories, replied the commandant, who had an ungovernable dislike of all officers from this scientific seminary. What core are you serving in? i am in the navy ah said ullo laughing spitefully do you know many pupils from that school in the navy they only turn out officers of artillery and engineers he went on sternly the other was not disconcerted the name i bear has made an exception of me he answered we have all been sailors in our family ah said ullo and what is your family name citizen dougouard sincere then you were not murdered at mortagne

ah a very little more and we must have been said madame du guois my son had a couple of balls through have you your papers said ullo who paid no attention to the mother Would you like to read them? said the young man flippantly, with malice in his blue eyes, as he looked from the scowling commandant to Mademoiselle de Vernau. I am to have a young fool set his wits at me, I suppose, said Ullo. Give me your papers, or come away with you. Come, come, my fine fellow, I am not a recruit. Why should I answer you? Who may you be?

I am the commandant of the department, answered Ullo. Oh, and this is a very serious matter, and I might be taken with arms in my hands. He held out a glass of Bordeaux wine to the commandant. I am not thirsty, said Ullo. Come, show me your papers. Just then the tramp of soldiers and the clanking of weapons filled the street. Ulo stepped to the window with a sassad. satisfaction that alarmed Mademoiselle de Vernaille.

This sign of concern softened the young man whose face had grown cold and hard. He searched the pocket of his coat and drew out an elegant portfolio, and from this he selected papers which he handed to the commandant, and which Ullo began to read deliberately, studying the signature on the passport, and the face of the suspected traveler. As he proceeded with his scrutiny, the screechal hooted again, but this time it was plainly in the accents of a human voice. The commandant returned the papers with a sarcastic expression. This is all very fine, he said, but you must follow me to the district headquarters.

I am not fond of music. I take him to the district?" asked Mademoiselle de Vernaud in a new tone of voice. That is no business of yours, young lady, said Ullo, with the usual grimace. Irritated at this language from the old soldier, and by the way she had been lowered, as it were, in the eyes of a man who had taken a fancy to her, Mademoiselle de Vernaut dropped the sedate manner which had hitherto been hers. Her color rose and her eyes glowed. Tell me, has this young man satisfied the requirements of the law?

She asked gently, though her voice faltered a little. Yes, to outward seeming. Well, then, I shall expect you to leave him alone in outward seeming. Are you afraid he will escape you? You are going to escort us to Mayenne. and his mother will travel in the coach with me. No objections, it is my wish. Now, what is it? She added, when he made his usual little grimace. Do you still suspect him? To some extent. What do you want to do? Nothing but to cool his head a bit with some lead, a hair-brained boy,

said the commandant sardonically. You are joking. colonel. Come, comrade, said the commandant, with a movement of the head. Come, let us be off, sharp. At this impertinence from Ullo, Mademoiselle de Vernau smiled and grew calm. Stay where you are, she said to the young man with a dignified gesture of protection. What a splendid head, he whispered to his mother, who knitted her brow. Repressed vexation and wounded susceptibilities had brought new beauties into the fair Parisian's face.

Everyone rose to their feet, Francine and Madame de Gouinois and her son. Mademoiselle de Vernaille quickly stepped between them and the commandant, who was smiling, and deftly unfastened the loops of braid on her Spencer. with the heedlessness that possesses a woman whose self-love has been severely wounded, she drew out a letter and handed it at once to the commandant, pleased with her power, and as impatient to exercise it as any child can be, to try a new plaything. Read it, she said, with a sarcastic smile. Intoxicated with her triumph, she returned towards her

towards the young man with a glance at him in which malice and love were mingled. The brows of both grew lighter, a flush of joy overspread their excited faces. Innumerable contending thoughts arose in their minds. Madame du Guas's glance seemed to say that she attributed Mademoiselle de Vernaud's generosity rather to love than to charity, and she was certainly quite right. The fair traveller flushed up in the first instance and modestly lowered her eyelids as she gathered the meaning of that feminine glance, but she raised her head again proudly under the menacing accusation and defiantly met all eyes.

Meanwhile, the petrified commandant handed back her letter, countersigned by ministers, and enjoining all persons in authority to obey the orders of the mysterious bearer. But he drew his sword from its sheath, broke it over his knee, and flung down the fragments. Mademoiselle, you probably know what you are about, but a Republican has his own ideas and a pride of his own, and I have not yet learned to take my orders from a pretty woman. The First Consul will receive my resignation to-night, and another than Ullo will obey you. When I do not understand a matter I will not stir in it, especially if I am supposed to understand it and cannot.

There was a moment's silence, soon broken by the young Parisian lady, who went up to the commandant, held out her hand and said, Colonel, although your beard is rather long, you may give me a kiss. You are a man. So I trust, mademoiselle, he answered, as he awkwardly pressed his lips to the hand of this strange girl. as for you comrade and he pointed his finger at him you have had a narrow escape the joke has gone quite far enough commandant if you like i will go to the district with you said the laughing stranger and bring that invisible whistler marcheterre along with you march ataire who is that said the sailor march ataire who is that said the sailor with every sign of genuine surprise. Did not someone whistle a minute ago? If they did, said the other,

what has that to do with me, I wonder? I thought that your men brought here, no doubt, to arrest me, were warning you of their approach. Was that really what you thought? Eh, monsieur, yes. Drink your glass of Bordeaux. It is delicious. Perplexed by the sailor's astonishment by the levity of his manner and the almost childish appearance of his face, with its carefully curled fair hair, the commandant's mind hesitated among endless suspicions.

He noticed Madame de Guas, who was trying to read the secret in her son's glances at Mademoiselle de Vernauie, and suddenly asked her, Your age, citoyenne? Alas, the laws of our republic are growing very merciless, Monsieur L'Officier. I am 38 years old. May I be shot if I believe a word of it? Marsh at air is about. I heard him whistle, and you are shuans in disguise. Tonair de dure, I will have the inn surrounded and search.

urged. A whistle not unlike the sound he spoke of, interrupted the commandant's speech. It came from the courtyard. Fortunately, Ullo hurried into the corridor and did not notice the pallor that overspread Madame Duguay's face at the words. When Ullo beheld the whistler, a postilion harnessing his horses to the coach, his suspicions were allayed. It seemed to him so absurd that Shuans should risk themselves in the midst of Al-San, that he returned in confusion.

I forgive him, but some day he shall pay dear for the moments he has made us spend here, said the mother gravely, whispering to her son, and that that instant, Ullo, came into the room again. The brave officer clearly showed on his own. his embarrassed face, the expression of a mental struggle between the rigorous claims of duty and his own natural good nature. He still looked surly, perhaps because he thought that he had been mistaken, but he took the glass of Bordeaux and said, "'Excuse me, Comrade, but if your school sends out such youngsters or officers.

Are there not still younger ones among the brigands? asked the so-called sailor, laughing. For whom did you take my son? answered Madame de Guas. For the gar, the leader sent over to the Schuens and Vandeans by the English ministry and whose style is the Marquis of Montauroix. As he spoke the Comptuartes, commandant still kept a close watch on the faces of the two suspected persons. They looked at each other with the peculiar expressions which two presumptuous and ignorant people

might assume successively and which might be translated by this dialogue. Do you know what this means? No, do you? Not a bit of it. What does he mean to say? He is dreaming. And there followed the mocking jeer of folly. which thinks itself triumphant.

The mention of the royalists' generals' name wrought in Marit their noise manners and unconcern a sudden alteration, which was only visible to Francine, the one person present who could read the almost imperceptible shades of expression on that young face. Completely baffled, the commandant picked up the two pieces of his seat. sword, and looked at Mademoiselle de Vernau. The warmth and excitement in her face had succeeded in stirring his own feelings. He said, as for you, mademoiselle, I shall stick to my word, and to-morrow the fragments of my sword shall return to Bonaparte, unless—' "'What have I to do with your Bonaparte's and your republics, your shoe-ons, your king, and your gar, cried she, repressing with some difficulty

and outburst of temper which would have been in very poor taste. A strange excitement, or waywardness, brought a brilliant color to her face. It was clear that the whole world would become as nothing to this young girl from the moment when she singled out one living creature in it from all others. But suddenly she forced herself to be calm again, finding that all eyes were turned upon her as upon a principal personage. The commandant rose abruptly. Mademoiselle de Vernaille, anxious and disturbed, followed him, stopped him in the passage outside, and asked him in earnest tones, had you really very strong reasons for suspecting this young man to be the guy?"

Tarnere de de de de de jue, that Papenjay who came along with you, mademoiselle, had just told me that the travelers and courier had all been murdered by the shewans, which I knew already, but I did not know that the name of the dead travelers was du Croix sincere. Oh, if Corantin is mixed up in it, I am not surprised at anything any longer, she said with a gesture of disgust. The commandant withdrew, not daring to look at Mademoiselle de Vernaut, whose dangerous beauty had already perturbed his heart.

If I had stayed there for ten more minutes, he said to himself as he went downstairs, I should have been fool enough to pick up my son. sword again to escort her. Madame de Guas saw how the young man's eyes were fixed on the door through which Mademoiselle de Vernau had made her exit, and spoke in his ear. It is always the same with you. You will only come to your end through some woman or other. The sight of a doll makes you forget everything else.

Why did you allow her to breakfast with us? What sort of Demoiselle de Verneux can she be who accepts invitations to breakfast with strangers has an escort of blues and countermands them by a paper kept in reserve in her Spencer like a love-letter? She is one of those vile creatures by means of whom Foucher thinks to entrap you, and that letter which she produced authorized her to make use of the blues against you. Really, madame, said the young man in a sharp tone that cut the lady to the heart and made her cheeks turn white. Her generosity is a flat contradiction to your theories.

Be careful to remember that we are only brought together by the interests of the king. Can the universe be other than a void for you, who have had Charette at your feet, could you live any longer save to avenge him?" The lady stood lost in thought, like a man who watches the shipwreck of his fortunes from the strand, and only feels a stronger craving for his lost riches. End of Section 8. Section 9 of the Shouans by Honoré de Balsak, translated by Ellen Marriage.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Read by Bruce Piri. Chapter 2D Mademoiselle de Vernaut came back and exchanged with the young man a smile and a look of gentle raillery. The prophecies of hope were the more flattering because the future seemed so uncertain, and the time that they might spend together so very brief. The glance, however rapid it might be, was not lost on Madame de Guas' discerning eyes. She saw what it meant, and her brow slightly contracted at once.

Her jealous thoughts could not be kept entirely unexpressed by her face. Francine was studying this woman. She saw her eyes sparkle and the color glue in her cheeks. A fiendish inspiration seemed to animate her face. She seemed to be in the throes of some terrible convulsion, but this passed, like a flash across her features. Lightning could not be more rapid, nor death more swift. Madame de Guas resumed her apparent sprightliness,

with such ready self-command that Francine thought she had been dreaming. For all that, she trembled as she discerned in the woman before her, a nature at least as vehement as Mademoiselle de Vernais, and foresaw the alarming collisions that were sure to come to pass between two minds of this temper. She shuddered again when she saw Mademois go up to the young officer, fling at him one of those passionate glances that intoxicate, and draw him by both hands towards the window with mischievous coquetry. Now, said she, as she tried to read his eyes,

confess to me that you are not the citizen du Guasincere? Yes, I am, mademoiselle. But both he and his mother were murdered the day before yesterday. I am extremely sorry, he answered, smiling at her, but however that may be, I am nonetheless obliged to you. I shall always remember you with deep gratitude, and I wish that I were in a position to prove it. I thought I had saved an emigrant,

but I like you better as a Republican. She became embarrassed at the words which seemed to have heedlessly dropped from her. Her lips grew redder. There was nothing in her face but a delightfully artless revelation of her feelings. Softly she dropped the young officer's hands, not through bashfulness because she had pressed them, but impelled by a thought within her heart well-nigh too heavy to bear. And so she left him intoxicated by his hopes.

Then quite suddenly she seemed to repent within herself of this freedom, although these passing adventures of travel might seem to justify it, she stood once more on ceremony, took leave of her traveling companions, and vanished with Francine. When they had reached their room, Francine locked her fingers together and turned out the palms of her outstretched hands, twisting her arms to do so, as she looked at her mistress, saying, ah, Marie, how many things have happened in such a short time? There is no one like you for these goings-on." Mademoiselle de Vernaut sprang to Francine and put her arms round her neck.

"'This is life,' she cried. "'I am in heaven.' "'Or in hell, maybe,' Francine answered. "'Yes, hell, if you like,' said Mademoiselle de Vernaud merrily. "'Here, give me your hand. Feel how my pulse beats. I am in a fever. Little matters all the world to me now.

How often have I not seen him in my dreams? What a fine head that is of his, and how his eyes sparkle. But will he love you? Asked the peasant girl with direct simplicity. Her voice faltered and her face took a sober expression. Can you ask? replied Mademoiselle de Vernaut. Now, tell me, Francine.

she added, striking a half-comic, half-tragical attitude before her, would he be so very hard to please? Yes, but will the love last, Francine answered, smiling. For a moment the two remained struck dumb, Francine because she had disclosed so much knowledge of life, and Marie because, for the first time in her existence, she had, beheld a prospect of happiness in a love affair. She was leaning, as it were, over a precipice, and would fain try its depths, waiting for the sound of the pebble that she had thrown over, and, in the first instance, had

thrown heedlessly. Ah, that is my business, she said with the gesture of a desperate gambler. I have no compassion for a woman who is cast off. she has only herself to blame for her desertion. Once in my keeping, I shall know how to retain a man's heart through life and death. There was a moment's pause, and she added in a tone of surprise.

But how did you come by so much experience, Francine? Mademoiselle, said the young country woman eagerly, I can hear footsteps in the corridor. Ah, not his, said the other, listening for them. So this is the way you answer me? I understand you. I shall wait for your secret, or I shall guess it. Francine was right.

Three raps on the door interrupted their conversation, and Captain Merle soon showed his face after he heard Mademoiselle de Vernaud's invitation to enter. The captain made a military soldier. absolute, ventured a sidelong glance at Mademoiselle de Vernaille, and, dazzled by the beautiful woman before him, could find nothing else to say then. I am at your orders, mademoiselle. So you have become my protector on the resignation of your chief of demi-brigade. Is not that what your regiment is called?

My superior officer, adjutant Major Gerard, sent me to you. So your commandant is afraid of me? She inquired. Begging your pardon, mademoiselle, Ullo is not afraid, but ladies are not much in his line, you see, and it'd rather put him out to find his general wearing a much. It was his duty to obey his superiors for all that. Mademoiselle de Vernaudy replied,

I have a liking for subordination. I give you warning, and I do not like resistance to my authority. It would be difficult, said Merle. Let us talk things over, Mademoiselle de Verneau continued. Your troops here are fresh. They will escort me to my yen, which I can reach tonight. Could we find fresh soldiers there so as to set out again? at once without a halt?

The Shouans do not know of our little expedition. If we travel at night in this way, we should have to be very unlucky indeed to meet with them in numbers sufficient to attack us. Let us see now. Tell me if you think the plan feasible? Yes, mademoiselle. How are the roads between Mayenne and Fugier? Rough and there are everlasting ups and downs, a regular squirrel track.

Let us be off at once, said she, and as we have no dangers to fear on the outskirts of Alonsohn set out first, and we will soon overtake you. One might think she had been ten years in command, said Merle to himself as he went out. Ullo was wrong about her. That girl is not one of the sort that make their living from feather beds. Mille-Cattouch! If Captain Merle means to be adjutant major someday, I advise him not to take St. Michael for the devil.

Whilst Mademoiselle de Vernau was taking counsel with the captain, Fonseen slipped out, intending to inspect from a corridor window, a spot in the courtyard, which had attracted her curiosity ever since her arrival in the inn. So rapt was her gaze upon the heap of straw in the stable that anyone might have thought her engaged in prayer before the shrine of the holy virgin. Very soon she saw Madame de Guas picking her way towards March Aterre with all the caution of a cat that tries not to wet its paws.

At sight of the lady the chouin rose and stood most respectfully before her. This strange occurrence revived Francine's curiosity. She sprang out into the yard, gliding along by the wall so that Madame de Guas should not see her, and tried to hide herself behind the stable door. She held her breath and walked on tiptoe, trying not to make the slightest sound, and succeeded in placing herself close to Marcia Ther, without attracting his attention. And if, after you have made all these inquiries, you find that that is not aftire, without attracting is not her name, said the stranger lady to the Shu'an.

You will shoot her down, without mercy, as if she were a mad dog. I understand, said Marcha Terre. The lady went. The Shuang put his red-wollen cap on his head again, and stood scratching his ear like a man in doubt. When he saw Francine start up before him as if by magic. Anne of O'Re, cried he, and suddenly dropping his whip, he clasped his hands and stood and raptured.

A faint red flush lit up his rough face, and his eyes shone out like diamonds in the mud. Is that really Coltain's lass? He asked in a stifled voice, audible to himself alone. Aren't you just grand? Go then. He went on after a pause. This rather odd word, Godin, Godin, in the patois of the country, serves rustic wooers to express the highest possible admiration of a combination of beauty and finery.

I am afraid to touch you, Mosh Atter added, but nevertheless he stretched out his big hand to Francine to ascertain the weight of the thick gold chain which wound about her throat and hung down to her waist. You had better not Pierre, Francine said, inspired by the woman's instinct to tyrannize wherever she is not oppressed. Francine drew back with much dignity after enjoying the Chuan's surprise, but there was plenty of kindliness in her looks to make up for her hard words. She came nearer again.

Pierre, she went on, Was not that lady talking to you about the young lady my mistress?" Marcia Ter stood in silence. His face, like the dawn, was a struggle between light and darkness. He looked first at Francine, then at the great whip that he had dropped, and finally back at the gold chain, which seemed to have for him an attraction quite as powerful as the face of the Breton maid. Then as if to put in a little,

end to his perplexities, he picked up his whip again and uttered not a word. Oh, it is not difficult to guess that the lady has ordered you to kill my mistress. Francine continued. She knew the scrupulous loyalty of the gar and wished to overcome his hesitation. Marchetere nodded significantly. For Cotard's last, this was an answer. very well then pierre if anything should happen to her no matter how slight or if you should take so much as a hair of her head we shall have seen each other for the last time and we shall not even meet in eternity for i shall be in paradise and you will go to hell no demoniac exercised by the offices of the church performed in pomp in the days of yore could have shown more terror than march aterre at this prophecy uttered with a conviction that went far to assure him that it would really come to pass

the uncouth tenderness revealed in his first glances now struggled with a fanatical sense of duty every whit as exacting as love itself. He looked savage all at once as he noticed the air of authority assumed by his innocent former sweetheart. Francine explained the Schoen's glumness in her own fashion. "'So you will do nothing for me?' she said in a reproachful tone. The Schoen gave his sweetheart a look, black as the raven's wing, at the words. Are you your own mistress? asked he, in a growl that no one but Francine could hear. Should I be here if I were? she asked indignantly. But what are you doing here?

Still chouanning and scouring the roads like a mad animal looking for someone to bite? Oh, Pierre, if you were reasonable, you would come with me. This pretty young lady, who I may tell you, was brought up. up in our house at home, has taken charge of me. I have two hundred livres invested income. Mademoiselle gave five hundred crowns to buy my Uncle Thomas's big house for me, and I have two thousand livres of savings besides. But her smile and the enumeration of her riches failed of their effect. She still confronted Marciateur's inscrutable gaze. The rector's, have told us to fight, he replied.

There is an indulgence for every blue that drops. But perhaps the blues will kill you. He let his arms fall at his sides by way of reply, as if he regretted the meagerness of his sacrifice for God and the king. And then what would become of me? The girl went on, sadly. Mache Aterre looked at Francine, like a man bereft of his faculties. His eyes seemed to dilate. Two tears stole down his rough cheeks

and rolled in parallel lines over his goatskin raiment. A hollow groan came from his chest. St. Anne of Oray, is that all you will say to me, Pierre, after we have been parted for seven years? How changed you are! My love is always the same. The Shuan broke out in gruff tones. No, she murmured. The king comes before me. I shall go, he said, if you look at me in that way. Very well then, goodbye, she said sadly. Goodbye, echoed Mosh Atair.

He seized Francine's hand, pressed it in his own and kissed it, made the sign of the cross and escaped into the stable like some dog that has just purloined a bone. Pia Mich, he called to his comrade. I cannot see a bit. Have you your snuff-box about you? Oh, cry blue, what a fine chain, said Piamish, fumbling in a pocket contrived in his goat-skin. He held out to Macheteer a little conical snuff-box, made out of a cow's horn, in which Bretons keep the snuff that they grind for themselves in the long winter evenings.

The Shouan raised his thumb so as to make a cup-shaped hollow in his left hand, as pensioners are wont to do when measuring their pinches of snuff, and shook the horn into it vigorously, Pia Mich having unscrewed the nozzle. A fine dust was slowly shaken from the tiny hole at the end of this Breton appurtenance. Marchetare repeated this feat seven or eight times in silence, as if the powder possessed some virtue for changing the current of his thoughts. Then with a sudden involuntary gesture of despair, he flung the snuff-box to Piamish and picked up a carbine that lay hidden in the straw.

There's no use in taking seven or eight pinches at a time like that, said the niggardly Piamish. forward cried marcheterre hoarsely there is some work for us to do some thirty shuans who were sleeping under the hay-rack sent in the straw raised their heads at this and seeing marcheter standing vanished forthwith through a door which led into some gardens whence they could reach the open country when francine left the stable she found the mail-coach to start. Mademoiselle de Vernaille and her two traveling companions were seated in it already. The Breton girl shuddered to see her mistress in the coach with at her side the woman who had just given orders to kill her. The suspect had placed himself opposite, Marie, and as soon as Froncine took her seat, the heavy coach set out with all speed. The grey clouds had vanished. before the autumn sunlight, which brought a certain revival of gladness to the melancholy fields,

as though the year were yet young. Many a pair of lovers read an augury in these signs in the sky. Silence prevailed among the travellers at first, to Francine's great surprise. Mademoiselle de Vernaut had returned to her former reserve. She kept her head slightly bent, and her eyes, downcast, while her hands were hidden under a sort of cloak in which she had wrapped herself. If she raised her eyes at all, it was to look at the changing landscape as she was whirled through it. She was secure of admiration and was declining to take any notice of it, but her indifference seemed scarcely genuine and suggested coquetry.

There is a certain touching purity which dominates every fleeting phase of expression by which weaker souls reveal themselves, but there was no charm of this kind about this being whose highly wrought temperament had marked her out for the storms of passion. The stranger opposite was as yet altogether taken up with the delights of a newly begun flirtation, and did not try to reconcile the inconsistencies in this extraordinary girl, a lofty enthusiast and a coquette. Did not her feigned serenity give him a chance to study her face at his leisure, rendered as beautiful now by repose as before by excitement?

We are not very apt to find fault with anything that gives us pleasure. In a coach, it is not easy for a pretty woman to avoid the eyes of her fellow-travelers. They turn to her in search of one more relief from the tedium of the journey. The young officer therefore took a pleasure in studying the striking and clear-cut outlines of her face, delighted to satisfy the cravings of a growing passion by gazing at her as at a picture, without giving annoyance by his persistence, or causing the fair stranger to avoid his glances. Sometimes the daylight brought out the transparent rose hues of her nostrils and the double curves that lie between the nose and the upper lip.

Or a faint sunbeam would shed its light upon every shade of color in her face, on the pearly white about her mouth and eyes, growing to a dead ivory, tint at her throat and temples, and the rose-red in her cheeks. He watched admiringly the contrasts of the light and shadow underneath the masses of dark hair about her face, which lent to it one more transient grace, for everything is transient about woman. Her yesterday's beauty is not her beauty of today, and this is lucky, perhaps, for her. The sailor, as he called himself, was still at an age when a man finds bliss in the nothings that make up the whole of love.

He watched with pleasure the incessant movements of her eyelids, the rise and fall of her bodice as she breathed fascinated him. Sometimes his fancy led him to detect a connection between the expression of her eyes and a scarcely discernible movement of her lips. For him every gesture was a revelation of the young girl's nature. Every movement showed her to him in some new aspect. Some thought, or other, flickered over the rapidly changing features, a sudden flush of color overspread them, or they glowed with life as she smiled, and he would find inexpressible pleasure

in the attempt to penetrate the secret thoughts of the mysterious woman before him. Everything about her was a snare, alike for the senses and the soul. The silence, so far from being a hindrance to an intimate understanding, was forging a chain of thought to unite them both. After several encounters with the stranger's glances, Marie de Verneau saw that this silence would compromise her. So she turned to Madame du Guas with one of those banal questions that serve to open a conversation.

But even then she could not help bringing in a mention of the lady's son. How could you bring yourself to put your son into the navy, madame, said she. Do you not condemn yourself to a life of constant anxiety? Mademoiselle, it is the lot of women, of mothers. I mean, to tremble constantly for their dearest treasures. Your son is very like you. Do you think so, mademoiselle? This serene acceptance of Madame de Guas' statement as to her age

made the young man smile and provoked a new malignity in his supposed mother. Every glowing look that her son bent on Marie increased her hatred. Both the silence and the talk inflamed her anger to a fearful pitch, though it was concealed beneath a most amiable manner. You are quite mistaken, mademoiselle, said the stranger. The navy is not more exposed to danger than the other service. Women ought not to dislike the navy, for have we not one immense superiority over the land forces in that we are always faithful to our mistresses. Yes, because you cannot help it, laughed Mademoiselle de Vernaille.

But it is faithfulness at any rate, said Madame de Guas, in an almost melancholy voice. The conversation grew more lively, turning upon matters which were only interesting to the three travellers. Under circumstances of this kind, people with active minds are apt to give new significances to commonplace utterances. But beneath the apparently frivolous crossfire of questions with which these two amused themselves, the feverish hopes and desires that stirred in them lay concealed. Marie was never off her guard, displaying a tact and astute shrewd, which taught Madame de Guas that only by employing treachery and slander could she look to triumph over a rival whose wit was as formidable as her beauty.

The travellers overtook the escort, and the coach went less rapidly on its way. The young sailor saw that there was a long hill to climb and proposed to Mademoiselle de Vernau that they should alight and walk. The young man's friendly politeness and courteous tact had its effect on the fair Parisian. He felt her consent to be a compliment. Are you of the same opinion, madame? she asked of Madame de Guas. Will you not join our walk? Coquette, exclaimed the lady as she alighted. Marie and the stranger walked together and yet asunder. He already felt himself mastered by vehement desires

and was eager to break through the reserve with which she treated him, a reserve that did not deceive him in the least. He thought to succeed in this by bringing his lively conversational powers to bear upon his companion, with the debonair gaiety of his, of old France, that is sometimes light-hearted, sometimes earnest, readily moved to laughter, but always chivalrous, the spirit that distinguished the prominent men among the exiled aristocracy. But the lively Parisian lady met his attempts at frivolity, in so disdainful a humor, rallied him with such malicious reproaches, and showed so marked a preference for the bold and elevated

ideas that passed into his talk in spite of himself, that he soon perceived the way to please her. So the conversation took another turn. The stranger thenceforward fulfilled the promises made by his eloquent face. Every moment he found new difficulties in understanding this science. who was captivating him more and more, and was compelled to suspend his judgment upon a girl who took a capricious delight in contradicting each conclusion that he formed concerning her.

The mere sight of her beauty had carried him away in the first instance, and now he felt himself strongly drawn towards this strange soul by a curiosity which Marie her sister, took pleasure in stimulating. Unconsciously, their converse assumed a more intimate character. The indifferent tone, which Mademoiselle de Vernaut had unsuccessfully tried to give to it, had disappeared entirely. End of Section 9. Section 10 of the Schoens by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marriage.

This Librevox recording is in the public. Domain, read by Bruce Peary. Chapter 2 E. Although Madame de Guas had followed the lover-like pair, they had unwittingly walked faster than she did, and soon found themselves about a hundred paces ahead of her. The two picturesque beings were treading the sandy road, absorbed in the childish pleasure of hearing their light footsteps sounding together, pleased that the same spring-like rays of sunlight should envelop them both, glad to breathe the same air with the autumn scent of fallen leaves in it, which seemed to be a nourishment brought by the breeze for the sentimental melancholy of their growing love.

Although neither of them appeared to regard their brief companionship as anything but an ordinary adventure, there was something in the sky above them, in the season and in the place, which gave their sentiments a tinge of soberness and lent an appearance of passion to them. They began to praise the beauty of the day, and then fell to talking of their strange meeting of the end of the pleasant intercourse so nearly approaching, and of how easy it is to become intimate upon a journey with people who are lost to sight again almost directly after we meet them. At this last observation, the young man availed himself of a tacit permission which seemed to warrant him in making some sentimental confidences and in venturing a declaration, like

a man accustomed to situations of this kind. Do you notice, mademoiselle, he said, how little our feelings flow in their accustomed channels in these times of terror in which we live, is there not a striking and unexplainable spontaneity about everything that takes place around us? We love nowadays, or we hate, on the strength of a single glance. We are bound together for life, or we are severed, with the same speed that brings us to the scaffold. We do everything in haste, like the nation in its ferment.

We cling to each other more closely amid these perils than in the common course of life. Lately, in Paris, we have come to know, as men learn on the battlefield, all that is meant by a grasp of the hand. The thirst for a full life in a little space, she said, was felt then because men used to have so short a time to live. She gave a rapid glance at her companion, which seemed to be able to be. to put him in mind of the end of their brief journey, and added maliciously, you have a very fair knowledge of life for a young man just leaving the École Polytechnique.

What do you think of me? he asked after a moment's pause. Tell me frankly and without hesitation. You wish in turn to acquire the right of speaking in like fashion of me? she queried, laughing. you are not answering me he said after another slight pause beware silence is very often an answer in itself did i not guess all that you wished you could tell me eh monche you have said too much already oh if we understand each other he said smiling i have obtained more than i dared to hope she smiled so much so graciously at this that she seemed willing to engage in a courteous fence in words, in which a man delights to press a woman closely. Half in jest and half in earnest, they persuaded themselves that it was impossible that each for each they could ever be other than they were at that moment.

The young man could fairly give himself up to a predilection which had no future before it, and Marie could laugh at him. When in this way they had set up an imaginary barrier between them, both of them seemed eager to take full advantage of the dangerous liberty which they had just acquired. Marie suddenly slipped on a stone and stumbled. Take my arm, said the stranger. I shall have to do so, giddy-pate, because you would grow so conceited if I declined. would it not look as if I were afraid of you. Ah, Mademoiselle, he said,

pressing her arm against him to let her feel the beating of his heart. You have just made me very vain by this favor. Well, then, my readiness to grant it will dispel your illusions. Do you want to arm me already against the dangerous emotions you inspire? I beg that you will stop. this talk, she said. Do not involve me in a labyrinth of boudoir small talk and the jargon of

drawing-rooms. I do not like to find the sort of ingenuity that any fool can attain to in a man of your caliber. Look, here we are out in the open country, under a glorious sky. Everything before us and above us is great. You wish to inform me that I am pretty. Is that not so? but i can tell that quite well from your eyes and moreover i am aware of it i am not a woman to be gratified by civil speeches possibly you would speak to me of your sentiments she went on with sardonic emphasis on the last word could you really think me foolish enough to believe in a sudden sympathy powerful enough to control a whole life by the memories of one morning Not the memories of a morning, he replied, but of a beautiful woman who has shown herself to be magnanimous as well. You forget, she said, laughing, much greater attractions than these.

I am a stranger to you, and everything about me must seem very unusual in your eyes, my name, rank, and position, and my freedom of thought and action. You are no stranger to me, he exclaimed. I have divined your nature. I would not add one perfection more to your completeness unless it were a little more belief in the love that you inspire at first sight. You poor seventeen-year-old boy, you are prating of love already, she smiled. Very well, so be it then.

It is a stock subject of conversation when any two creatures meet, like the wind and the weather, when we pay a call. Let us take it then. You will find no false modesty nor littleness in me. I can hear the word love pronounced, without blushing. It has been said to me so very often, but not in tones that the heart uses, that it has grown almost meaningless in my ears. I have heard it repeated everywhere, in the theater, in books, and in society, but I have never met with anything that resembled the magnificent

sentiment itself. Have you looked for it? Yes. The word fell from her so carelessly that the young man started and gazed at Marie, as if his views with regard to her character and condition had undergone a sudden change. Mademoiselle, are you girl or woman? An angel or a fiend? He asked, with ill-concealed emotion. Both the one and the other, she answered him, smiling. Is there not something both diabolical and

and Ancelic, in a girl who has never loved, does not love, and possibly never will love. And you are happy for all that? He asked, with a certain freedom of tone and manner, as if this woman who had liberated him had fallen in his esteem already. Happy, she asked. Oh, no. When I happen to think how solitary I am and I am. of the tyranny of social conventions which perforce makes a schemer of me, I envy man his prerogatives.

Then at the thought of all the means with which nature has endowed us women so that we can surround you and entangle you in the meshes of an invisible power that not one of you can resist. My lot has its attractions for me, and then all at once it seems me a pitiful thing, and I feel that I should despise a man who could be deceived by these vulgar wiles. Sometimes, in short, I recognize the yoke we must bear with approval. Then again, it is hateful to me, and I rebel against it. Sometimes a longing stirs within me for that lot of devotion which makes a woman so fair

and noble a thing. And then again I am consumed by a desire for power. This is perhaps the natural struggle between good and evil instincts by which everything lives here below. Angel or fiend, did you say? Ah, I do not recognize my double nature today for the first time. We women know our own insufficiency even better than you do. Instinctively we expect in everything a perfection which is no doubt impossible. But, she sighed as she turned her eyes to the sky, there is one thing which ennobles us in your eyes. And that is, asked he, well, that is the fact that we are all struggling more or less against our destiny of incompleteness. Mademoiselle, why must we take leave of you to-night?

She said, smiling at the glowing look the young man turned upon her. Let us go back to the coach. The fresh air is not good for us. And Marie hurried back to it. As the stranger followed he pressed her arm with scanty respect for her, but in a manner which expressed both his admiration and the feeling which had gained the mastery over him. She quickened her pace.

The sailor guessed that she meant to escape from a suit which might be urged upon her, and this made him the more vehemently eager. He risked everything to gain a first favor from this woman, and said, diplomatically, shall I tell you a secret? Oh, at once, if it relates to your own affairs. I am not in the service of the Republic. Where are you going? I will go with you."

Marie shuddered violently at these words. She withdrew her arm from his and put both hands before her face to hide the red flush, or the pallor it may be, that wrought a change in her features. Then in a moment she uncovered her face and said in a tremulous voice, So you began, as you would fain have ended, by deceiving me? Yes, he said. She turned her back on the bulky coach towards which they were walking, and almost started to run. But just now the fresh air was not good, began the stranger.

Oh, it is different now, she said with a sad note in her voice, and she was walked on. A storm of thoughts was raging within her. You are silent, the stranger said. His heart was full of joyous anticipation of pleasure to come. Oh, she cried briefly, how quickly the tragedy has begun. What tragedy are you talking of? he inquired. She stopped short, scanning the pupil from the acal, with both fear and curiosity in her looks. Then she concealed her troubled feelings beneath an inscrutable serenity. Evidently for so young a woman, she had no small practical knowledge of life. "'Who are you?' she went on. But I know who you are. I suspected you at first sight.

are you not the royalist chief called the gar the ex-bishop of otin was quite right when he cautioned us to believe in our forebodings of ill what interest can there be for you in knowing that fellow what interest could he have in concealing his identity when i have saved his life already she began to laugh but it was with visible effort i did wise she said, when I prevented you from making love to me. Understand this, sir. You are abhorrent to me. I am a Republican. You are a royalist. I would give you up if I had not passed my word, if I had not saved your life once already,

and if she broke off. These stormy revulsions of feeling, the struggle, which she scarcely troubled herself to hide from him any long, longer, alarmed the stranger. He tried to watch her, but to no purpose. Let us part at once, I will have it so. Goodbye, said she. She turned sharply from him, took a step or two, and then came back again. Nay, she said, it is of immense importance to me to know who you really are. Do not hide anything. Tell me the truth. Who I are you? You are no more a pupil of the Acole Polytechnique than a 17-year-old. I am a sailor,

ready to leave the sea to follow you wherever your fancy may lead me. If I am fortunate enough to represent a puzzle of some sort to you, I shall be very careful not to extinguish your interest in it. Why should we bring the grave cares of real life into the life of the heart in which we were coming to understand one another so well. Our souls could have met and known each other, she said earnestly, but I have no right to demand your confidence, sir. You shall never know the extent of your obligations to me. I will say no more.

They went some little way in absolute silence. You take a great interest in my life. The stranger began. For pity's sake, sir, either give me your name or do not speak. You are a child and I am sorry for you, she added, shrugging her shoulders. The persistent way in which his fellow-traveller set herself to learn his secret brought the supposed sailor into a predicament between ordinary prudence and his desires. A powerful attraction lies in the displeasure of a woman we long to win,

and when she yields and relents no less than in her anger, her sway is absolute. She seizes upon so many fibers of man's heart as she subdues and penetrates it. Was her vexation one more while of the coquette in Mademoiselle de Vernau? In spite of the fever that burned within him, the stranger had sufficient remaining self-control to mistrust a woman who wished to extort his secret of life and death from him. He held the hand which she absently allowed him to take. Why, said he to himself, should my blundering which sought to add a future to today, have destroyed all the charm of it instead.

Mademoiselle de Vernau, who seemed to be in great trouble, was silent. In what way is it possible that I can give you pain, he began, and what can I do to soothe you? Tell me your name. It was his turn to be silent now, and they walked on some steps further. Then Mademoiselle de Vernaud suddenly stopped, like someone who has made a momentous decision. Marquis of Montaurein, she said with dignity, though she could not altogether hide the inward agitation which gave a kind of nervous trembling to her features.

I am happy to do you a service at whatever personal cost. Here we must separate. The coach and the escort are too necessary for your safety for you to decline to accept either of them. You have nothing to fear from the Republicans. All those soldiers you see are men of honor, and I shall give orders to the adjutant, which he will carry out faithfully. I myself shall return on foot to Alonsohn. My maid and a few of the soldiers will go back with me. Heed me well, for your life is in danger.

If before you are in safety you should meet the detestable Muscadine whom you saw in the inn, then you must fly, for he would immediately give you up. As for me, here she paused, and then went on in a low voice as she kept back the tears. I shall plunge once more into the miseries of life with a proud heart. Farewell, sir. May you be happy, and farewell. She beckoned to Captain Merle, who had reached the top of the hill. The young man was not prepared for such a sudden development as this.

Stay, he cried with a very fair imitation of despair. The stranger had been so taken by surprise at this. singular freak on the girl's part, that though he was ready at that moment to sacrifice his life to gain her, he invented a pitiable subterfuge to satisfy Mademoiselle de Vernauie without revealing his name. Your guess was a very near one, he said. I am an emigrant under sentence of death, and I am called the Viscount de Beauvon. I came back to be near my brother in France, drawn by the love of my country.

I hope to be struck out of the list through the influence of Madame de Beau Arnais, who is now the first consul's wife. But if that fails, I mean at any rate to die on French soil, to fall fighting by the side of my friend Montaurent. I am going in the first place secretly into Brittany by the help of the passport that I have succeeded in obtaining, to learn if any of my property there yet remains to me. Mademoiselle de Vernaud studied the young gentleman as he spoke, with keen attention.

She tried to weigh the truth of his words, but it was in her nature to be trustful and credulous, and her appearance of tranquillity slowly returned, as she asked, is all that you have just told me true, sir? Absolutely true, the stranger repeated, who appeared to regard veracity but slightly in his dealings with women. Mademoiselle de Vernaud heaved a deep sigh, like one coming to life again. Ah, I am really happy, cried she.

So you quite hate my poor Monterein? No, she said, you cannot understand me. I did not wish that you should be threatened by dangers from which I will try to shield him since he is your friend. Who told you that Montau-Ront-Ront was in danger? Oh, sir, if I had not just left Paris where nothing but his adventure is being talked of, the commandant told us quite sufficient about him at Alonsohn, I think, then I am going to ask you, in what way you could shield him

from danger? And suppose I should not choose to answer, she said with the haughty expression which women so readily assumed to conceal their feelings. What right have you to know my secrets? the right that a man who loves you ought to have already said she no sir you do not love me for you i am simply a fitting object for a passing affair of gallantry did i not read your thoughts at the first glance could a woman with any experience of good society as manners are at present be deceived about you when she hears a pupil from the ecole Polytechnique, choose his expressions as you do, and when he so clumsily disguises his courtly breeding beneath an appearance of republicanism, there is a trace of powder about your hair, an aristocratic

atmosphere about you which any woman of the world would recognize at once. It was because I trembled for you that I so promptly dismissed my director, whose wits are as keen as a woman's, A genuine Republican officer from the Ecole, sir, would never have thought to make a conquest of me, nor would he have taken me for a good-looking adventurous. Permit me, Monsieur de Beauvon, to put a small piece of feminine reasoning before you. Are you really so young that you do not know that the most difficult conquests to make are those creatures of our sex whose market value, is known, and who are satiated with pleasure.

To gain that kind of woman, so they say, great inducements are needed, and she only surrenders at her own caprice. To attempt to make any impression upon her would be the acme of self-conceit in a man. Let us leave out of the question the women of the class in which you are so gallant as to include me, because it is understood that they all must be beautiful. And you ought to see that a witty and beautiful young woman of good birth, for you concede those advantages to me, is not to be purchased. There is but one way of winning her.

She must be loved. Now you understand me. If she loves and condescends to folly, there must be something great in it to justify her in her own eyes. Pardon and exuberance of reasoning not often met with in persons of my sex, but for your own sake, and for mine, she added with a bend of her head, I would not have either of us deceived as to the worth of the other, nor would I have you believe that Mademoiselle de Vernau, whether fiend or angel, girl or woman, could allow herself to be captivated by the commonplace. of gallantry. Mademoiselle began the supposed Viscount, whose surprise was extreme, although he concealed it, and who suddenly became once more a very fine gentleman.

I beg of you to believe that I will look upon you as a very noble woman, full of lofty and generous feeling, or as a kind-hearted girl, whichever you choose. i do not ask so much of you sir she said laughing leave me my incognito my mask moreover fits more closely than yours does and it pleases me to retain it if only that i may know whether people who speak of love to me are sincere do not venture to approach me so heedlessly hear me sir she went on grasping his arm firmly If you could satisfy me that your love was sincere, no power on earth should sunder us. Yes, I could wish to share in the larger life of a man to be wedded to lofty ambitions and great thoughts.

Unfaithfulness is impossible to noble hearts. Constancy is a part of their natural strength. I should be always loved, always happy. But yet I should not. be ready at all times to lay myself under the feet of the man I loved as a step upon which he might rise in his career. I could not give up all things for him, endure all things from him, and still love on, even when he had ceased to love me. I have never yet ventured to confide the longings of my own heart to another, nor to speak of the impassioned impulses of the

enthusiasm that consumes me, but I can readily speak to you of them, to some extent, because the moment that you are in safety we shall separate. Separate! Never, he cried, electrified by the tones of her voice, through which a powerful soul vibrated, a soul at strife, as it seemed, with some vast thought. Are you free? She asked with a scornful glance at him which made him shrink. Oh, free, yes, but for the sentence of death.

Then she spoke, and her voice was full of bitterness. If this were not all a dream, what a glorious life-hours should be. But let us commit no follies. though i may have talked foolishly everything seems doubtful when i think of all that you ought to become before you can appreciate me at my just worth and nothing would be doubtful to me if you would be mine hush she cried as she heard the words with a genuine ring of passion in them the air is certainly no longer for us. Let us go back to our chaperones. It was not long before the coach overtook the two, who resumed their places, and they went on in silence for several leagues. If both of them had plenty to think about, their eyes henceforth avoided each other no more. Each seemed

to have, since their conversation, an equal interest in watching the other and in keeping any important, secret, hidden. Yet, each also felt attracted to the other by a desire which had risen to the degree of passion, as each recognized characteristics which enhanced the pleasure they expected to receive from union or from conflict. Perhaps both of them embarked upon their lives of adventure had come to the strange condition of mind when, either from weariness, or by way of a challenge to fate, we decline to reflect seriously over the course we are pursuing, and yield ourselves up to the caprices of fortune, precisely because there is but one possible issue which we behold as the inevitable result of it all.

Are there not abysses and declivities in the moral, as in the physical, world, where in vigorous nature's love to plunge and endanger their existence, with the joy of a gambler who stakes his whole fortune on one throw. Mademoiselle de Vernaut and the young noble had, in a manner, come to understand these ideas which were common to them both since the conversation which had given rise to them, and both had suddenly made great progress when the sympathy of the soul had followed that of their senses. For all that, the more inevitably they felt drawn towards each other, the more they became absorbed in unconsciously counting up the amount of happiness to come for them,

if only for the sake of the additional pleasure. The young man had not recovered from his amazement at the death, depths of thought in this extraordinary girl, and he began with wondering how she could combine so much experience with such youthful freshness. He next thought that he discerned an intense desire to appear innocent in the studied innocence of Marie's general behavior. He suspected this to be assumed. He took himself to task for his delight and could only see a clever actress in this fair stranger.

He was quite right. Mademoiselle de Vernaille, like all girls who have been early thrown on the world, become more and more reserved as her feelings grew warmer, and very naturally she assumed that prudish mean, which women use successfully to conceal their violent desires. All women would fain meet love with a maiden soul, and when it is theirs no longer, their hypocrisy is a tribute with which they welcome love's coming. These were the thoughts that passed rapidly through the mind of the noble, and gave him pleasure. Both of them, in fact, could not but make some progress in love by this examination.

In this way, a lover swiftly reaches the point where the defects in his mistress are so many reasons for loving her the more. Mademoiselle de Vernaud's meditations lasted longer than those of the emigrant. Perhaps her imagination took flight over a wider stretching future. He was obeying but one of a thousand impulses that go to make up a man's experience in life, but the girl foresaw her whole future, taking a pleasure in making it fair and full of happiness and of great and noble ideas. So in these dreams she was happy, the present and the future, her wild fancies, and the actual

reality alike charmed her. And Marie now sought to retrace her steps, the better to establish her power over the young man's heart, acting in this instinctively, as all women do. After she had determined to surrender herself entirely, she wished, so to speak, to yield inch by inch. She would fain have recalled every action, every look. and word in the past, to make them in accord with the dignity of a woman who is loved. Her eyes at times expressed a kind of terror as she brooded over the bold attitude she had assumed

in their late conversation. But as she looked at his resolute face again, she thought that one so strong must needs be generous too, and exalted within herself that a lot more glorious than that of most other women had fallen to her, in that her lover was a man of powerful character, a man with a death sentence hanging over him who had just put his own life in peril to make war with the Republic. The thought that such a soul as this was hers alone, with no other to share it, gave a different complexion to everything else. Between that moment only five hours ago, when she had arranged

her face and voice so as to attract this gentleman, and the present, when she could perturb him with a glance, there lay a difference as great as between a dead and a living world. Beneath her frank laughter and blithe coquetry lay a hidden and mighty passion, tricked out like misfortune, in a smile. End of Section 10. Section 11 of the Schoannes by Honoré de Balsack, translated by Ellen Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, read by Bruce Peary, Chapter 2F. In Mademoiselle de Vernaud's state of mind, everything connected with external life partook of the nature of a phantom show.

The coach passed through villages and over hills and valleys, which left no traces in her memory. She reached Mayenne. The escort of soldiers was changed. Meryl came to speak to her, and she answered him, she crossed the town, and they went on again. But faces and houses, streets and landscapes and men passed by her like the shadowy forms of a dream. Night came on. Marie traveled along the road to Fugier by the soft light of the brilliant stars in the sky, and it never struck her that there was any change in the heaven above her.

She neither knew where Mayenne was nor Fugier nor her own destination. that in a few hours she might have to part with the man whom she had chosen, and by whom, as she thought she herself had been chosen to, was an utter impossibility to her. Love is the one passion which knows neither past nor future. If she betrayed her thoughts in words at times, the sentences that fell from her were almost meaningless. But in her lover's heart, they echoed like promulence. of joy. There were two who looked on at this newborn passion, and its progress under their eyes was alarmingly rapid. Francine knew Marie as thoroughly as the stranger lady knew the young man, and past experience led them to expect, in silence, some terrific catastrophe.

As a matter of fact, it was not long before they saw the close of this drama, which Mademoiselle de Vernaille had, perhaps in words of unconscious ill-omen, entitled a tragedy. When the four travelers had come about a league out of Mayenne, they heard a horseman coming towards them at a furious pace. As soon as he caught them up, he bent down and looked in the coach for Mademoiselle de Verneux, who recognized Corantin. This ill-omened individual took it upon himself to make a significant gesture with a familiarity

which for her had something scathing in it, and then departed, having made her cold and wretched by this vulgar signal. This occurrence seemed to affect the emigrant disagreeably, which fact was by no means lost on his supposed mother. Marie touched him, lightly, and her look seemed to seek a refuge in his heart, as if there lay the one shelter that she had on earth. The young man's brow grew clear, as he felt a thrill of emotion, that his mistress should thus have allowed him to see, inadvertently as it were, the extent of her attachment to him.

All her coquetry had vanished before an inexplicable tread, and love had shown himself for a moment unveiled. Neither of them spoke, as if the sweet moment so might last a little longer. Unluckily, Madame de Guas in their midst, saw everything. Like a miser giving a banquet, she seemed to count their morsels and to measure out their life. Altogether absorbed in their happiness and without a thought of the way they had come, the two lovers arrived at the part of the road which lies along the bottom of the valley of Ernie, forming the first of the three valleys along which the events took place with which this story opened. Francine saw and pointed out strange forms which seemed to move like shadows through the trees and the echelks that bordered the fields.

As the coach came towards these shadows, there was a general discharge of muskets, and the whistling of balls over their heads told the travellers that all these phantoms were substantial enough. The escort had fallen into an ambush. At this sharp fusillade, Captain Merrile keenly regretted his share in Mademoiselle de Vernais' miscalculation. She had thought that the quick night journey would be attended with so little risk that she had only allowed him to bring sixty men. Acting under Gerard's orders, the captain immediately divided the little troop into two columns to hold the road on either side, and both officers advanced at a running pace through the fields of broom and furs, seeking to engage their adversaries before even learning their numbers.

blues began to beat up the thick undergrowth right and left with rash intrepidity, and kept up an answering fire upon the bushes of broom, from which the show-on-valley had come. Mademoiselle de Vernauie's first impulse had led her to spring out of the coach and to run back, so as to put some distance between her and the scene of the fray. But she grew ashamed of her fright, and under the influence or, the desire to grow great in the eyes of her beloved, she stood quite still and tried to make a cool survey of the fight. The emigrant followed her, took her hand, and held it to his heart.

I was frightened, she said, smiling, but now. Just at that moment her terrified maid called to her, Take care, Marie. But as Francine attended. tempted to spring from the coach, she felt the grasp of the strong hand arrest her. The heavy weight of that huge hand drew a sharp cry from her. She turned and made not another sound when she recognized March Aterre's face. So I must owe to your fears the disclosure of the sweetest of all secrets for the heart,

the stranger said to Mademoiselle de Vernaud. to Francine, I have found out that you are called by the gracious name of Marie. Marie, the name that has been on my lips in every sorrow I have known, Marie, the name that henceforth I shall utter in joy. I shall never more pronounce it without committing sacrilege, without confusing my religion with my love. But will it be a sin, after all, to love and pray at the same time? They pressed each other's hands fervently as he spoke, and looked at each other in silence. The strength of their feelings had taken from them all power of expressing them. There is no harm meant for you people, Mascheter said roughly to Fonsine.

There was a note of menace and reproach in the hoarse guttural sounds of his voice. He laid a stress upon every word in a way that paralyzed the innocent peasant girl. For the first time she was confronted with cruelty in March Aterre's expression. Moonlight seemed the only suitable illumination for such a face. The fierce Breton with his cap in one hand and his heavy carbine in the other, and with his squat gnome-like form in the cold white rays of light which give everything an unfamiliar look seemed to belong rather to fairyland than to this world.

There was a shadowy swiftness about the coming of this phantom and his reproachful exclamation. He turned immediately to Madame du Guas and exchanged some earnest words with her. Francine had forgotten her Bob Breton and could make nothing of their talk. The lady seemed to be giving a complication of orders to Marcheterre, and the short conference was terminated by an imperious gesticulation on her part, as she pointed out the two lovers to the shewann. Before he obeyed her, Marcheter gave Francine one last look. He seemed to be sorry for her, and would have spoken, but the Breton girl felt that her lover

was obliged to keep silent. There were furrows in the rough sunburned skin on his forehead. The man's brows were drawn together in a heavy frown. Would he disobey this renewed order to take Mademoiselle de Vernaud's life? Madame de Guas, no doubt, thought him the more hideous for this grimace, but to Francine there was an almost tender gleam in his eyes. The look told her that it was in her, woman's power to direct that fierce will, and she hoped yet to establish her sway after

gods in this wild heart. Marie's tender conversation was interrupted by Madame de Guas, who caught hold of her with a cry, as if danger was at hand. She had recognized one of the royalist committee from Alonsohn, and her sole object was to gain for him an opportunity of speaking to the emigrant. Mistrust the girl whom you met at the sign of the three moors. So said the Chevalier de Valois in the young man's ear, and then both he and the Breton pony which he rode disappeared in the bushes of broom whence he had issued.

The sharp rolling fire of the skirmish became at this moment astonishingly hot, but the combatants could not come too close quarters. Is not this attack a faint adjutant so that they may kidnap our travelers and hold them for ransom? suggested Clay de care. Devil fetch me you are on the right track, was Gerard's answer as he flung himself on the road. The shoe and fire grew slacker. They had gained their object in the skirmish when the Chevalier's communication was made to the chief. Merlea saw them drawing off through the hedges a few at a time, and did not consider it expedient to engage in a useless and dangerous struggle. The captain had a chance to hand Mademoiselle

de Verneoy back into the carriage, for there stood the noble like one thunderstruck. The Parisian, in her surprise got in without availing herself of the Republican's courtesy, she turned to look at her lover, saw him standing there motionless, and was bewildered by the sudden change, just wrought in him by the Chevalier's words. Slowly the young emigrant returned. His manner disclosed a feeling of intense disgust. Was I not right? Madame de Guas said in his ear as she went back with him to the coach. We are certainly in the hands of a creature who has struck a bargain for your life, but since she is fool enough to be smitten with you instead of attending to her business, do not behave yourself like a child, but pretend that you love

her until we reach the vis-a-tier and once there. Is he really in love with her already? She added to herself, for the young man did not move and stood like one lost in dreams. The coach rolled on almost noiselessly over the sandy road. At the first glance round about her, everything seemed changed for Mademoiselle de Vernaille. The shadow of death had stolen across love already. The differences were the merest shades, perhaps, but such shes. Shades as these are as strongly marked as the most glaring hues for a woman who loves. Francine had learned from Marcia Ter's expression that Mademoiselle de Vernau's fate over which she had bidden him to watch was in other hands than his.

Whenever she met her mistress's eyes, she turned pale and could scarcely keep back the tears. The rancor, prompting a feminine revenge, was but ill-concealed by the feigned smiles of the stranger-lady. The sudden change in her manner, the elaborate kindness for Mademoiselle de Vernaud, infused into her voice and expression, was sufficient to alarm any quick-sighted woman. Mademoiselle de Verneux shuddered instinctively and asked herself, Why did I shudder? Is she not his mother? But she trembled in every limb as she suddenly asked herself.

But is she really his mother? Then she saw the precipice before her, and a final glance at the man's face made it plain to her. This woman loves him, she thought. But why should she overwhelm me with attentions after having shown so much coolness to me. Is it possible that she fears me, or am I lost? As for the amigre, he was red and pale by turns. He retained his apparently calm manner by lowering his eyes to conceal the strange emotions that warred within him. His lips were pressed together so

tightly that their gracious curving outlines were disturbed. A yellowish tint due to the violent conflict in his mind overspread his face. Mademoiselle de Vernaut could not even discover if there was a lingering trace of love in all this passion. Woods lined the road on either side at this spot, and it became so dark that the mute actors in the drama could no longer question each other with their eyes. The sow of the wind rustling through the woods and the even paces of their escort gave a tinge of awe to the time and place, a solemnity that quickens the beating of the heart. Mademoiselle de Vernaut could not long seek in vain for the cause of the estrangement. The recollection of Corantin flashed through her mind, and with that the idea of her

real destiny rose up suddenly before her. For the first time, since the morning, she fell to thinking seriously over her position. Hitherto she had given herself up to the joy of being loved without a thought of the future or of the past. She grew unable to bear her agony of soul any longer, alone, and with the meek patience of love, sat waiting, beseeching one glance of the young man. There was such a touching eloquence about her mute, passionate entreaty, her shudder and her white face, that he wavered a moment. The catastrophe was but the more complete.

Are you feeling ill, mademoiselle, he inquired. There was no trace of ten times. in his voice. His look and gesture, the very question itself, all served to convince the poor girl that all that had happened during the day had been part of a soul mirage, which was now dispersing as half-formed clouds are borne away by the wind. Am I feeling ill? she replied with a constrained laugh. I was just going to put the same question to you. I thought you both understood each other," said Madame de Guas with assumed good nature.

But neither Mademoiselle de Vernaut, nor the young noble, made her any answer. The girl thus grievously offended for the second time was vexed to find that her all-powerful beauty had lost its force. She knew that she could discover the reason of the this state of things whenever she chose, but she was not anxious to look into it. And for the first time, perhaps, a woman shrank back from learning a secret. There are in our lives far too many situations when, either by dint of overmuch thinking or through some heavy calamity, our ideas become disconnected, have no foundation

in fact, and no basis to start from. The links that bind the present to the future and to the past are severed. This was Mademoiselle de Vernaud's condition. She bowed her head, lay back in the carriage, and stayed in this position like an uprooted shrub. She took no notice of anyone. She saw nothing around her, but suffered in silence. wrapping herself about in her sorrow, a deliberate dweller in the solitary world with her unhappiness betakes itself for shelter.

Some ravens flew croaking over them, but although in her, as in all strong natures, there was a superstitious spot, she gave no heed to them. The travellers went on their way in silence for some time. Sundered already, said Mademoiselle de Vernaud to herself, and yet nothing about me could have told him. Could it have been Corantin? But it is not to Coronter's interest. Who can have risen up to accuse me? I have scarcely been beloved, and here already I am aghast at being forsaken. I have sown love, and I reap contempt.

so it is decreed by fate that i shall never do more than see the happiness that i must always lose there was a trouble within her heart that was new in her experience for she really loved now and for the first time But she was not so overcome by her pain that she could not oppose to it the pride natural to a young and beautiful woman. Her love was still her own secret. The secret that torture often fails to draw had not escaped her. She raised her head, ashamed that her mute suffering should indicate the extent of the passion within her, showed a smiling face, or rather a smiling mask, gave a gay little shake of the head, controlling her voice so as to show no sign of the change in it. Where are we now? she asked of Captain Merle, who always kept at a little distance from the coach.

Three leagues and a half from Fugier, mademoiselle. Then we shall very soon be. there now," said she, to induce him to begin to talk, her mind being fully made up to favor the young captain with some mark of her consideration. Those leagues, replied the delighted Merla, are no great matter, except that hereabouts they never let anything come to an end. As soon as you reach the upland at the top of this hill that we are climbing, you will see another valley, just like the one we are leaving behind. And then, on the horizon, you can see the top of La Pelerine.

God send that the shewins will be so obliging as not to have their revenge up there. But as you can suppose, we don't get on very fast, going up and downhill in this way. From La Pallorine again, you will see— The emigrant trembled slightly at that word for the second time, but so slightly that Mademois de Vernauille alone observed it. What may this La Pellarine be? The girl inquired vivaciously, interrupting the captain, who was quite taken up by his Breton topography.

It is the summit of a hill, Merla answered. It gives its name to the valley here in men, which we are just going to enter. The hill is the dividing line between that province and the valley of the Cuenon, Fugier lies at the very end of the valley, and that is the first town you come to in Brittany. We had a fight there against the Gha and his bandits at the end of Vandemier. We were bringing over some conscripts, and they had a mind to kill us on the border so as to stop in their own country. But Ullo is a tough customer, and he gave them— Then you must have seen the Gah, she asked.

What sort of man is he? And all the time her keen malicious eyes were never withdrawn from the pretended vicomte de Beauvain's face. Oh, mon dieu, mademoiselle, replied Merlelea interrupted again, as usual. He is so very much like the citizen du Guas, but if it were not for the uniform of the Ecole Polytechnique that he is wearing, I would bet it was the same man. Mademoiselle Le Verneux stared hard at the cool and impassive young man, who was looking contemptuously back at her, but she could see nothing about him that revealed any feeling of fear.

By a bitter smile, she let him know that she had just discovered the secret he had so dishonorably kept. Then her nostrils dilated with joy. She bent her head to one side so that she could scrutinize the young noble, and at the same time keep Merida in view, and said to the Republican in a mocking voice. This chief is giving the First Consul a good deal of anxiety, Captain. There is plenty of daring in him, they say, but he will engage in adventures of certain kinds like a hair-brained boy, especially if there is a woman in the case we are just reckoning upon that to square our accounts with him said the captain if we can get hold of him for a couple of hours we will put a little lead in those brains of his if he were to come across us the fellow from coblance would do as much for us he would turn us off into the dark so it is tit for tat oh you have nothing to fear said the

emigrant. Your soldiers will never get as far as La Pellarine. They are too tired. So if you agree to it, they could take a rest only a step or two from here. My mother will alight at the Vivitier, and there is the road leading to it a few gunshots away. These two ladies would be glad to rest there, too. They must be tired after coming without a break in the journey from Alonsohn hither. he turned to his mistress with constrained politeness as he went on and since mademoiselle has been so generous as to make our journey safe as well as pleasant perhaps she will condescend to accept an invitation to sup with my mother times in fact are not so distracted but that a hogshead of cider can be found at the viveteer to tap for your men the gar will not have made off with everything or so my mother thinks at any rate your mother interrupted mademoiselle vernon satirically without making any response to the strange invitation which was held out to her does my age seem no longer credible to you now that the evening has come mademoiselle asked madame de guoiselle i was unfortunately married while very young my son was born when i was fifteen

are you not mistaken madame should you not have said thirty madame de guat turned pale as she swallowed this piece of sarcasm she longed for the power to avenge herself and yet must perforce smile. At all costs to herself, even by the endurance of the most stinging epigrams, she wished to discover the girl's motives of action, so she pretended not to have understood. The showans have never had a leader so cruel as this one if we are to believe the rumors that are flying about concerning him. said, speaking at the same time to Francine and Francine's mistress. Oh, I do not believe he is cruel, Mademoiselle de Vernaud answered, but he can lie,

and to me he seems exceedingly credulous. The leader of a party ought to be the dupe of no one. Do you know him? asked the emigrant coolly. No, she answered, with a woman. the contemptuous glance at him. But I thought I knew him. Oh, mademoiselle, he is a shrewd one and no mistake, said the captain, shaking his head

and giving to the word he used, malin, by an eloquent gesture, the peculiar shade of meaning which it then possessed and has since lost. These old families sometimes send out vigorous offshoots. They come over here from a country where the C. Devon, So they say, have by no means an easy time of it. The men are like meddlers, you know, they ripen best on straw. If the fellow has a head on his shoulders, he can lead us a dance for a long while yet. He thoroughly understood how to oppose his irregular troops to our free companies,

and so paralyze the efforts of the government. For every royalist village that is burnt, he burns too for the Republicans, He has spread his operations over a vast tract of country, and in that way he compels us to bring a considerable number of troops into the field, and that at a time when we have none to spare, he understands his business. He is murdering his own country, said Gerard, interrupting the captain with his powerful voice. But if his death is to deliver the country, said the young gentleman, shoot him down and be quick about it.

Then he tried to fathom Mademoiselle de Vernaud's mind with a glance, and of the dramatic vivacity of the mute scene that passed between them and its subtle swiftness, words can give but a very imperfect idea. Danger makes people interesting. The vilest criminal excites some measure of pimps. when it comes to be a question of his death. So Mademoiselle de Vernaud, being by this time quite certain that the lover who had scorned her was the formidable rebel leader, did not seek to reassure herself on this head by keeping him

on the rack. She had quite a different curiosity to satisfy. She preferred to trust or to doubt him as her passion dictated, and set herself to play with edged tools. She indicated the soldiers to the young chieftain in a glance full of treacherous derision, dangling the idea of his danger before him, amusing herself with making him painfully aware that his life hung on a word which her lips seemed to be opening to pronounce. She seemed, like an American Indian, to be ready to detect the movement. of any nerve in the face of an enemy bound to the stake,

flourishing her tomahawk with a certain grace, enjoying of revenge unstained by crime, dealing out to him his punishment like a mistress who has not ceased to love. If I had a son like yours, madame, she said to the visibly terrified stranger, I should put on mourning for him on the day when I sent him forth, into danger. She received no reply. Again and again she turned her head towards the two soldiers and then looked sharply at Madame de Guas,

but she could not detect that there was any secret signal passing between the lady and the gar, such as could assure her of an intimacy which she suspected and yet wished not to credit. A woman likes so much to maintain the same. suspense of a life and death struggle when a word from her will decide the issue. The young general bore the torture which Mademoiselle de Vernaut inflicted upon him without flinching and with smiling serenity. The expression of his face and his bearing altogether showed that he was a man utterly unaffected by the perils he underwent, and now and then

he seemed to tell her, here is your opportunity for you. for avenging your wounded vanity. Seize upon it. I should be in despair if I had to resign the feeling of contempt, which I have for you." Mademoiselle de Vernaud began to scrutinize the chief from her position of vantage with a haughty insolence which was quite superficial, for at the bottom of her heart she was admiring his tranquil courage. as she was to make the discovery of the ancient name that her lover bore, for all women

love the privileges which a title confers, she was still further delighted to confront him in his present position. He was the champion of a cause ennobled by its misfortunes. He was exerting every faculty of a powerful character in a struggle with a republic that had been so many a time victorious. She saw him now, face to face, with imminent danger, displaying the dauntless fowler that has such a powerful effect on women's arts. Over and over again she put him through the ordeal, perhaps in obedience to an instinct which leads womankind to play with a victim as a cat plays with the mouse that she has caught.

what law is your authority for putting shewans to death she asked of captain merle the law of the fourteenth of last fructador the revolted departments are put outside the civil jurisdiction and court-martials are established instead replied the republican to what cause do i owe the honour of your scrutiny of me she inquired of the young chief who was watching her attentively to a feeling which a gentleman hardly knows how to express in speaking to a woman whatever she may be said the marquis of montseron in a low voice as he leant over towards her then he went on aloud we must needs live in such times as these to see girls in your station do the office of the executioner and improve upon him in their deft way of playing with the axe her eyes were set in a stare on montaurein then in her exultation at receiving this insult from a man whose life lay between her hands as he spoke she whispered in his ear with gentle malice as she laughed. Your head is so wrong that the executioners will none of it. I shall keep it for my own.

The bewildered Marquis in his turn gazed at this unaccountable girl for a moment. The love in her had prevailed over everything else, even over the most scathing insults, and her revenge had taken the first. form of pardoning an offense which women never forgive. The expression of his eyes grew less cold and hard, a touch of melancholy stole over his features. His passion had a stronger hold upon him than he had recognized. These faint tokens of the reconciliation she looked for satisfied Mademoiselle de Vernaud.

She looked tenderly at the chief. A smile she gave him seemed a caress. Then she lay back in the coach, unwilling to endanger the future in the drama of her happiness, and in full belief that that smile of hers had once more tightened the knot that bound them. She was so beautiful. She knew so well how to clear away all obstacles in love's course. She was so thoroughly accustomed to take all things as a pastime, to live as chance determined. She had such a love of the unforeseen and of the storms of life.

End of Section 11. Section 12 of the Shouans by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, read by Bruce Peerie. Chapter 2G. Very soon, in obedience to orders from the Marquis, the coach left the high road and turned off towards the Vietiere, along a crossroad in a hollow shut in on either side by high banks, planted with apple trees, which made their way seem more of a ditch than a road, properly speaking. The travellers gradually left the blues behind them as they reached the manor-house.

its gray roofs appearing and vanishing alternately through the trees along the way. Several soldiers were left behind, engaged in extricating their shoes from the stiff clay. This is like the road to paradise with a vengeance, cried Beaupier. Thanks to the postillion who had been there before, it was not very long before Mademoiselle de Vernaille came in sight of the chateau of the Vivitier. The house lay on the slope of a sort of promontory between two deep ponds which almost surrounded it, so that it was only possible to reach the mansion by following one narrow causeway.

That part of the peninsula on which the house and gardens stood was protected at some distance from the back of the chateau by a wide moat which received all the overflow from the two ponds with which it communicated. In this way, an island was formed, which was an almost impregnable retreat, and therefore invaluable for a party leader who could only be surprised here by treachery. As the gate creaked on its rusty hinges, and she passed under the pointed archway that had been ruined in the previous war, Mademoiselle de Vernaud stretched out her head. The gloomy colors of the picture presented to her gaze all but effaced the thoughts of love

and coquetry with which she had been soothing herself. The coach entered a great courtyard, almost square in shape, and bounded by the steep banks of the ponds. These rough embankments were kept dank by the water with its great patches of green weed, and bore such trees as love marshy places for their soul adorned. They stood leafless now. The stunted trunks and huge heads gray with lichens rose above the reeds and undergrowth like misshapen dwarfs.

These uncomely hedges seem to have a sort of life in them, and to find a language when the frogs escaped from them, croaking as they went. And the waterhands, in alarm at the sounds made by the coach, flew and splashed across the surface of the pools. The courtyard, surrounded by tall withered grasses, gorse, dwarf shrubs, and creeping plants, put an end to any preconceived ideas of order or of splendor. The chateau itself seemed to have been a long while deserted. The roofs appeared to bend under an accumulation of vegetable growths, and although the walls were built very solidly of the schistice stone of the district, there were numerous cracks where the ivy had found a hold.

The chateau fronted the pond and consisted of two wings which met at right angles in a high tower, and that was all. The doors and shutters hung loose and rotten, the balustrades were eaten with rust, and these, like the crazy windows, looked as if the first breath of a storm would bring them down. A shrewd wind whistled through the ruinous place, and in the uncertain moonlight the great house had a spectral appearance and character. The cold, grays and blues of the granitic stone, combined with the tawny brown and black of the schist, must have been actually seen before the accuracy of the image called up at first

sight by this dark empty carcass of a house can be appreciated. It looked exactly like a skeleton with the fissures in its masonry, its unglazed windows, the embrasures in the battlements of the tower seen against the sky, and the roofs that let the light through. The birds of prey that flew shrieking about it added one more feature to the vague resemblance. A few lofty fir trees behind the house showed their dark waving foliage above the roofs, and some yew trees that had once been trimmed as a sort of ornament to the corners now made for it a setting of dismal festoons like pauls at a funeral.

The shape of the doorways, the clumsiness of the ornaments, the want of symmetry in the construction, and everything, in fact, about the magic. showed that it was one of those feudal manor-houses, of which Brittany is proud, not without reason it may be, for in this Celtic land they form monuments to the nebulous history of a time when as yet the monarchy was not established. In Mademoiselle de Verne's imagination the word chateau always called up a conventional type, so that she was greatly struck with the funeral aspect of the picture before her. She sprang lightly from the coach and stood by herself looking about her in dismay and

meditating on the part that she ought to play. Francine heard Madame du Guas give a sigh of joy when she found herself free of the escort of blues, and an involuntary exclamation broke for her. from her when the gate was shut, and she found herself within this kind of natural fortress. Montaurentourne had hurried eagerly to Mademoiselle de Vernaille. He guessed the nature of the thoughts that filled her mind. This chateau, he said, with a shade of melancholy in his voice, was ruined in the war. Just as the plans which I projected for our happiness have been ruined by you.

And in what way? She inquired in utter astonishment. Are you, a beautiful young woman, witty and nobly born? He said in caustic tones, repeating for her the words which she had spoken so coquettishly during their conversation by the way. Who has told you otherwise? Friends of mine, worthy of credence who are deeply interested in my safety, and are on the watch to baffle treachery.

Treachery, said she with a satirical look. Are Alonsohn and Ullo so far away already? You have a poor memory, a perilous defect in the leader of a party. But if friends begin to exert so powerful a sway over your heart, she went on with matchless insolence, pray keep your friends. There's nothing which can be compared with the pleasures of friendship. Farewell, for neither I nor the soldiers of the Republic will enter here. She darted towards the gateway in her wounded pride and scorn,

but there was a dignity and a desperation about her flight that wrought a change in the ideas of the Marquis concerning her. He could not but be imprudent and credulous, for he could only forego his desires at too great a cost to himself, he also was already in love, so that neither of the lovers had any wish to protract their quarrel. Only a word, and I believe you, he said with entreaty in his voice. A word, she answered in an ironical tone, not so much as a gesture, and her lips were tightly strained together.

Scoald me at any rate, he entreated, trying to take the hand which she withdrew, if indeed you dare to pout with a rebel chieftain who is now as sullen and suspicious as he was formerly light-hearted and confiding. There was no anger in Marie's look, so the Marquis went on. You have my secret, and I have not. yours. A darker shade seemed to cross her alabaster brow at the words. Marie looked angrily at the chief and replied,

My secret? Never. Every word, every glance, has at the moment its own eloquence in love, but Mademoiselle de Vernaud's words had conveyed no definite meaning. And for Montaurent, clever as he might be, the significance of her exclamation remained undecipherable, and yet her woman's voice had betrayed an emotion by no means ordinary, which was still in evidence to excite his curiosity. You have a pleasant way of dispelling suspicions, he began. So you still harbor them, she inquired, and her eyes scanned him.

curiously, as if to say, have you any rights over me?" Mademoiselle, said the young man, who looked at once submissive and resolute. The authority you exercise over the Republican troops and this escort. Ah, that reminds me. Are we, my escort and I, your protectors as a matter of fact, insecurity here? she asked, with a trace of irony. Yes, on my faith as a gentleman. Whoever you may be, you and yours have nothing to fear in my house.

The impulse that prompted this pledge was evidently so generous and so staunch that Mademoiselle de Vernau could not but feel absolutely at rest as to the fate of the Republicans. She was about to speak when Madame de Guas' presence imposed silence upon her. Madame de Guas had either overheard the conversation of the two lovers, or she had partly guessed at it, and it was in consequence no ordinary anxiety that she felt when she saw them in a position which no longer implied the slightest unfriendliness. At sight of her, the Marquis offered his hand to Mademoiselle de Vernau, and went quickly towards the house, as if to rid himself of an intrusive companion. I am in the way, said the stranger lady to herself, without moving from the place where she stood.

She watched the two reconciled lovers, moving slowly now, on their way to the entrance flight of steps, where they came to a stand that they might talk so soon as they had put a distance between themselves and her. Yes, yes, I am in their way, she went on speaking to herself. But in a little while the creature yonder will not be in my way any longer. The pond, Pardieu, shall be her grave. I shall not violate your faith. as a gentleman. Once under that water, what is there to fear? Will she not be safe down below there? She was staring at the calm mirror-like surface of the little lake to the right of the courtyard

when she heard a rustling sound among the briars on the embankment, and by the light of the moon she saw Marsh Atter's face rise up above the naughty trunk of an old willow tree. One had to know the shoe unwell to make him out among the confusion of pollard trunks, for one of which he might readily be taken. First of all, Madame de Guas looked suspiciously round about her. She saw the postilion leading the horses round into a stable, situated in that wing of the chateau which fronted the bank where Macheteer was hiding. She watched Francine go towards the two lovers, who had forgotten everything else on earth just then, and she came forward with a finger on her lips to enjoin absolute silence, so that the showan rather understood than heard the words that followed next.

How many are there of you here? Eighty-seven. They are only sixty-five. for I counted them. Good, the savage answered with cruel satisfaction. Heatful of Francine's slightest movement, the Shuan vanished into the hollow willow trunk, as he saw her return to keep a look-out for the woman whom her instinct told her to watch as an enemy. Seven or eight people appeared at the top of the steps, brought out by the sounds of the arrival of the coach.

It is the gar, they exclaimed. It is he! Here he is! Others came running up at their exclamations, and the talk between the two lovers was interrupted by their presence. The Marquis of Montaurentourne made a rush towards these gentlemen, called for silence with an imperative gesture, and made them look at the top of the avenue through which the Republican soldiers were filing.

At the sight of the familiar blue uniform turned up with red and the gleaming bayonets, the astonished conspirators, exclaimed, Can you have come back to betray us? I should not warn you of the peril if I had, said the Marquis, smiling bitterly. Those blues, he went on after a pause, are this young lady's escort. Her generosity rescued us by a man. miracle, from a danger which all but overwhelmed us at an inn in Alonsohn. We will give you the history of the adventure.

Mademoiselle and her escort are here on my parole and must be welcomed as friends. Madame de Guas and Francine, having come as far as the flight of steps, the marquis gallantly presented his hand to Mademoiselle de Vernaille. The group of gentlemen fell back into two rows in order to let them pass, and everyone tried to discern the features of the newcomer, for Madame de Guas had already stimulated their curiosity by making several furtive signs to them. In the first room, Mademoiselle de Vernauie saw a large table handsomely furnished and set for a score of guests. The dining room opened into a vast saloon where the company were very soon assembled together. Both apartments were in keeping with the appearance of dilapidation about the exterior of the chateau.

The Wainscott was of polished walnut, ill-carved with poor and rough designs in bold relief, but it was split by great cracks and seemed ready to fall to pieces. The dark color of the wood seemed to make the mirrorless and curtainless rooms more dismal yet, and the antiquated and crazy furniture matched the ruinous aspect of everything else. Marie noticed maps and plans lying out unrolled upon a great table and a stack of weapons and rifles in a corner of the room. Everything spoke of an important conference among the von der Leyen, and Shuwan chiefs.

The Marquis led Mademoiselle de Vernaut to an enormous worm-eaten arm-chair which stood beside the hearth, and Francine took up her position behind her mistress, leaning upon the back of the venerable piece of furniture. You will give me leave to do my duty as host for a moment?" said the Marquis, as he left the two newcomers, to mingle with the groups his guests had formed. Francine saw how, at a word or two, from Montaureen, the chiefs hastily concealed their weapons and maps and anything else which could arouse the suspicions of the Republican officers.

One or two of the chiefs divested themselves of wide leather belts furnished with hunting knives and pistols. The Marquis recommended the greatest discretion and left the room, apologizing for the absence necessary to provide for the reception of the inconvenient guests which chance had thrust upon him. Mademoiselle de Vernau, who was trying to warm her feet at the fire, had allowed Montaureen to leave her without turning her head, and thus disappointed the expectations of the onlookers who all were anxious to see her face.

Francine was the sole witness of the change wrought among those assembled by the young chief's departure. The gentlemen gathered round the stranger lady, and during the murmured conversation which was carried on among them, there was no one present who did not look again and again at the two strangers. You know Montaureen, she said, he fell in love with this girl at first sight, and you can easily understand that the soundest advice was suspicious to him when it came from my mouth. Our friends in Paris and Monsieur de Valois and Desquignant at Alon, one and all warned him of the trap they want to set for him by flinging some hussy at his head, and he is bewitched with the first one he comes across.

A girl who, if all I can learn about her is correct, has taken. taken a noble name only to tarnish it, who, and so on, and so on. This lady, in whom the woman that decided the attack on the Turgoteen can be recognized, will keep throughout this story the name which enabled her to escape in the perils of her journey through Alon-San. The publication of her real name could only displease a nobleman, family who have suffered deeply already from the errors of this young person, whose fortunes have moreover been taken for the subject of another drama. Very soon the attitude of the company changed, and simple curiosity grew to be impertinent

and almost hostile. Two or three rather harsh epithets reached Francine's ears, who spoke a word to her mystery and took refuge in the embrasure of a window. Marie rose and turned her glances filled with dignity and even with scorn upon the insolent group. Her beauty and her pride and the refinement of her manner worked a sudden change in the attitude of her enemies and called forth an involuntary, flattering murmur from them. Two or three men, among them, whose exterior polish and habits of gallantry revealed that they had been acquired in the lofty spheres of courts, came up to Marie in a free and easy manner.

Her modest reserve compelled their respect. None of them dared to address a word to her, and so far from being accused by them, it It was she who seemed to sit in judgment upon them. The chiefs in this war undertaken for God and the king bore very little resemblance to the fancy portraits which she had been pleased to draw of them. The real grandeur of the struggle was diminished for her. It shrank into mean dimensions when she saw two or three energetic phases. accepted, the country gentleman about her, every one of them entirely devoid of character

and figure. Marie came down, all at once, from poetry to prose. At first sight these faces seemed to manifest a craving for intrigue rather than a love of glory. It was really self-interest that had set each man's hand to his sword. So if they grew heroic figures in the field, here they appeared as they actually were. The loss of her illusions made Mademoiselle de Vernauie unjust and prevented her from recognizing the real devotion that distinguished several of these men. But most of them, for all that, were of a commonplace turn.

If a few faces among them were marked out by a character of their own, it was spoiled by a certain pettiness due to aristocratic etiquette and convention. So if Marie's generosity allowed them to be astute and shrewd, she found no trace among them of the simpler and larger way of looking at things which the men and the success of the Republic had always led her to expect. This nocturnal confabulation in the old ruined stronghold beneath the quaintly carved beams that were no ill match for the faces below made her smile.

She was inclined to see it all as a typical presentment of the monarchy. Then she thought with delight that at any rate the Marquis took the first place among these men, whose sole merit, in her eyes, lay in their devotion to a lost cause. She drew the outlines of her lover's face upon that background of figures, and pleased herself with the way in which he stood out against it. All these meager and thin personalities were but tools in his hands, wherewith to carry out his own. noble purposes. Just then the returning footsteps of the Marquis sounded from the next room. The conspirators broke up into knots at once, and there was an end to the whisperings.

They looked like schoolboys who have been up to some mischief in their master's absence, hurriedly restoring an appearance of order and silence. Montaurent came in. The happiness of admiring him, of seeing him take the first place among these folk, the youngest and handsomest man among them fell to Marie. He went from group to group like a king among his courtiers, distributing slight nods, handshakes, glances, and words that indicated a good understanding or a tinge of reproach, his part as a partisan leader, with a grace and self-possession which could hardly have

been looked for in a young man whom she had set down at first as a feather-brain. The presence of the Marquisite had put a stop to their inquisitive demonstrations with regard to Mademoiselle de Vernaille, but Madame de Guas' spitefulness soon showed its effects. The Baron de Guenique nicknamed Lentine who, among all these men thus brought together by weighty considerations, seemed best entitled by his name and rank to speak on familiar terms with Monterey, laid a hand on his arm, and drew him into a corner. Listen, my dear Marquis, he said, we are all sorry to see you about to commit a flagrant

piece of folly. What do you mean by that remark? Who can tell where this girl comes from, what she really is, and what her designs upon you may be? Between ourselves, my dear Lentime, my fancy will have passed off by tomorrow morning. Just so, but how if the gypsy betrays you before the morning? I will answer to that when you tell me why she has not already done so. answered Montaurenton, jestingly, assuming an air of exceeding self-complacency. If she has taken a liking to you, she would have no mind perhaps to betray you till her fancy too had passed off.

Just take a look at that charming girl, my dear fellow. Notice her manners and dare to tell me that she is not a woman of good birth. If she sent a favorable glance in your direction, would you not feel in the depths of you some sort of respect for her? A certain lady has prejudiced you against her, but after what we have just said to each other, if she was one of those abandoned women that our friends have spoken about, I would kill her. You do not suppose that Foucher would be fool enough to pick up a girl from a street corner to send after you. Madame de Guas broke in. He has sent someone likely to attract a man of your caliber.

But if you are blind, your friends will have their eyes open to watch over you. Madame, answered the gha, darting angry glances at her. Take care to make no attempt against this person or her escort, or nothing shall save you from my vengeance. It is my wish that Mademoiselle should be treated with the greatest respect, and as a woman who is under my protection. We are connected, I believe, with the family of Vernais. The opposition, which the Marquis encountered, produced the effects that hindrances of this sort,

usually cause in young people. Lately as he apparently held Mademoiselle de Vernaut, when he gave the impression that his infatuation for her was only a whim, his feeling of personal pride had forced him to take a considerable step. By openly acknowledging her, it became a question of his own honor to make others respect her. So he went from group to group assuring everyone that the stranger really was Mademoiselle de Verneux, with the air of a man whom it would be dangerous to contradict, and all the murmurs were silenced.

As soon as harmony was in some sort re-established in the salon, and his duties as host detained him no longer, Montaurenton went eagerly up to his mistress and said, in a low voice, Those people yonder have robbed me of a moment of happiness. I am very glad to have you beside me, she answered, smiling. I give you fair warning. I am inquisitive, so do not grow tired of my questions too soon. First of all, tell me who that worthy person is in the green waistcoat. He is the celebrated Major Brigo from the

a marat, a comrade of the late Mercies, otherwise called La Vande. And who is the stout churchman with the florid countenance, with whom he is now discussing me? Went on Mademoiselle Vernau. Do you want to know what they are saying about you? Do I want to know? Can you doubt it? But I could not tell you without insulting you. the moment that you allow me to be insulted without reeking vengeance for any affront put upon me in your house i bid you farewell marquis not a moment longer will i stay

i have felt some pangs of conscience already at deceiving those poor trusting and trusty republicans she took several paces but the marquis went after her my dear marie hear me upon my own My honor, I have silenced their scandalous talk before I know whether it is false or true. But our friends among the ministers in Paris have sent warning to me to mistrust every sort of woman that comes in my way, telling me that Foucher has made up his mind to make use of some Judith out of the streets against me, and in my situation it is very natural that my best friend, should think that you are too handsome to be an honest woman. The Marquis looked straight into the depths of Mademoiselle de Vernau's eyes. Her color rose.

She could not keep back the tears. Oh, I have deserved these insults, she cried. I would vain see you convinced that I am a despicable creature and yet know myself beloved. Then I should doubt you no longer. I believed in you when you deceived me, but you have no belief in me when I am sincere. There, that is enough, sir,

she said, knitting her brows and growing white like a woman about to die. Farewell. She fled into the dining room with a desperate impulse. "'Marie, my life is yours,' said the young Marquis in her ear. She stopped and looked at him. "'No, no,' she said. "'I will be generous.

Farewell. When I followed you hither, I was mad. I was thinking neither of my own past nor of your future. What? You leave me at the moment when I lay my life at your feet.' It is offered in a moment of passion, of desire. It is offered without regret and forever, said he. She came back again and to hide his emotion.

The Marquis resumed their conversation. That stout man whose name you asked for is a formidable person. He is the Abbe Goudin, one of those Jesuits who are obstinate enough or it may be devoted enough to stay in France in the teeth of the edict of 1763 which drove them into exile. He is the firebrand of war in these parts, and a propagandist of their religious confraternity named after the Sacred Heart. He makes use of religion as a means towards his ends, so he persuades his proselytes that they will come to life again, and he understands how to sustain their fanaticism by dexterously contrived prophecy. You see how it is.

One must seek to gain over everyone through his private interests in order to reach a great end. That is the whole secret of policy. And that muscular person in a vigorous old age with such a repulsive face? There, look, the man who is where, a ragged lawyer's gown. Lawyer. He aspires to the title of Marichal de Compe. Have you never heard them speak of Languille?

Is that he? said Mademoiselle de Vernaut, startled. And you make use of such men as he? Hush, he might overhear you. Do you see that other man in unhallowed converse with Madame de Guas? The man in black who looks like a judge? He is one of our diplomatists, La Billardier, the son of a councillor in the Parliament of Brittany. His name is Flame, or something like it, but he is in the confidence of the princes.

Then there is his neighbor who is clutching his white clay pipe at this moment and leaning the fingers of his right hand against. against the panel of the Wainscot, like a boor," said Mademois, laughing. Padieu, your guess about him is correct. He was formerly gamekeeper to that lady's husband, now deceased. He is in command of one of the companies which I am opposing to the mobile battalions. He and Marcia Ther are perhaps the most scrupulously loyal servants that the king had. as hereabouts. But who is she?

She was Charette's last mistress, the Marquis replied. She has a great influence over everybody here. Has she remained faithful to his memory? All the answer vouchsafed by the Marquis was a dubious kind of compression of the lips. Have you a good opinion of her? Really, you are very inquisitive. She is my enemy because she can be my rival no longer, said Mademoiselle de Vernaud, laughing. I forgive her her past errors, so let her forgive mine.

Who is that officer with the moustaches? Permit me to leave his name unmentioned. He is determined to rid us of the first consul by attacking him, sword in hand. Whether he succeeds or no, you will hear of him. He will become famous. And you are come hither to command such men as these, she said aghast. And these are the kings' champions? Where are the great lords and the gentlemen?

why they are scattered throughout every court in europe said the marquis scornfully who but they are enlisting kings with their armies and their cabinets in the service of the house of bourbon to hurl them all upon this republic which is threatening monarchy and social order everywhere with utter destruction ah she answered him stirred by an enthusiastic impulse From this time forward, be for me the pure source whence I shall draw all the rest of the ideas that I must learn. I am willing that it should be so. But leave me the thought that you are the one noble who does his duty in attacking France with Frenchmen and not with foreign auxiliaries. I am a woman, and I feel that if my own child were to strike me in anger, I could, for you. forgive him. But if he could see me torn in pieces by a stranger, I should consider him a monster."

You will always be a Republican, said the Marquis, overcome by a delightful intoxication. The strong feeling in her tones had strengthened his confident hopes. A Republican? No, I am that no longer. I should not respect you. if you were to make your submission to the First Consul, she replied, But neither should I be willing to see you at the head of the men who are plundering a corner of France when they should be attacking the Republic in form.

For whom are you fighting? What do you look for from a king restored to the throne by your hands? A woman once before achieved this glorious. masterstroke, and the king whom she delivered, let them burn her alive. Such as he are the anointed of the Lord, and it is perilous to touch hallowed things. Leave it to God alone to set them up, to take them down, or to replace them on their dais among the purple. If you have weighed the reward that will be meted out to you, then in my eyes you are ten times greater than I have ever thought you.

If that is so, trample me beneath your feet, if you will, I would give you leave to do so, and be glad. You are enchanting, but do not try to urge your doctrine on these gentlemen, or I shall be left without soldiers. Ah, if you would let me convert me, you, we would go a thousand leagues away from here. These men whom you appear to despise will know how to die in the struggle, said the

marquis in a more serious tone, and all their faults will be forgotten then. Besides, if my efforts are crowned with any success, will not the laurels of victory hide everything. You are the only one present who has anything to lose as far as I can see. I am not the only one, he replied with real humility. There are those two Van deen chiefs over there. The first one, whom you have heard spoken of as the Grand Jacques, is the Comte de Fontaine and the other La Biaudiere, whom I have already pointed out to you.

Do you forget Ki-Baron, where La Biodiere played such a very strange part? She answered, struck by a sudden thought of the past. La Biodiere has undertaken heavy responsibilities, believe me. Those who serve the princes do not lie upon roses. You make me shudder, cried Marie. Then she went on in a tone which indicated that she, was keeping in the background some mystery that concerned him personally. A single moment is enough for the destruction of an illusion and to reveal secrets on which

the lives and happiness of many men depend. She paused as if she were afraid of having said too much, and added, I should like to know that the soldiers of the Republic are in safety. I will be very careful, he said, smiling to conceal his agitation. But say no more about your soldiers. I have answered for them to you on the faith of a gentleman. And after all, what right had I to dictate to you? She resumed.

You are to be the master always when it lies between us too. Did I not tell you that I should be in despair to reign over a slave? My Lord Marquis, said Major Brigo respectfully, interrupting the conversation. Will the blues remain here for some time? They will go on again as soon as they are rested. Marie cried. End of Section 12. Section 13 of the Shouans by Honorre de Balzac.

translated by ellen marriage this librivox recording is in the public domain read by bruce peary chapter two h the marquis sent searching glances round the company observed the excitement among them went from mademoiselle de vernois and left madame du guas to take his place at her side the young chief's sarcastic smile did not disturb the treacherous mask of good humor upon her features Just as she came, Francine uttered a cry, which she herself promptly stifled. Mademoiselle de Vernaut, with astonishment, her faithful country girl dashed into the dining-room. She looked at Madame de Guas, and her surprise increased when she saw the pallor that overspread the face of her enemy. Curious to learn the reason of this hasty flight, she turned towards the embrasure of the window, followed thither by her rival who wished to lull any suspicions which an indiscretion might have awakened,

and who smiled upon her with indescribable spitefulness, as they returned together to the hearth after both had glanced over the landscape and the lake. Marie had seen nothing which justified Froncine's departure, and Madame du Gouin was satisfied that she was being obeyed. The lake, from the brink of which Marsh Atter had appeared in the courtyard when the lady called him forth, went to join the moat that surrounded and protected the gardens, forming winding stretches of water with mist above it, sometimes as wide as a lake, sometimes as narrow as the ornamental streams contrived in parks.

The steep sloping banks, past which the clear water was rippling, ran but a few fathoms distant from the windows. Fronsine had been engaged in musing on the black outlines of several old willow stumps against the surface of the water, and in noticing with indifferent eyes the uniform curve that a light breeze was giving to the willow branches. Suddenly, she thought she saw one of these shapes moving on the mirror of the water in the the spontaneous and uneven fashion by which some living thing is revealed. The shape, however dim it was, seemed to be that of a man.

At first Francine gave the credit of her vision to the broken outlines produced by the moonlight falling through the leaves, but very soon a second head appeared and yet others showed themselves in the distance. The low shrubs along the bank swayed violently up and down till Francine saw along the whole length of hedge, a gradual motion like that of a huge Indian serpent of fabulous proportions. Here and there among the tufts of broom and the brambles, points of light gleamed and danced, redoubling her attention, Marcia Ter's sweetheart, thought she recognized the first of the

black forms that moved along the quivering growth on the bank. However vague the outlines of the man, the beating of her heart convinced her that in him she saw march a tear. A gesture made it clear to her. Impatient to learn if some treachery or other were not lurking behind this mysterious proceeding, she rushed in the direction of the court. When she came into the middle of the green space, she looked from the two wings of the house to the banks on either side, without discerning any trace whatever of a furtive movement

on the side which faced the inhabited wing. A faint rustling sound reached her. As she lent an attentive ear to it, it sounded like a noise made by some wild creature in the silence of the forests. She shuddered, but she did not tremble. Young and innocent, as she yet was, her curiosity swiftly prompted, a stratagem. She saw the coach and ran to crouch within it, only racing her head with all the caution of a hair that has the sound of the far-off hunt ringing in her ears. She saw P. Mish

come out of the stable. There were two peasants with the Shuan, and all three were carrying trusses of straw. These they spread out, so as to form a long sort of of shakedown in front of the inhabited pile of buildings that ran parallel with the embankment where the stunted trees were growing. The schoens were still marching there with a noiselessness which revealed the fact that some horrible plot was being prepared. You are giving them straw as if they really were to sleep there. That's enough. Pia Mich, that's enough, muttered a hoarse voice which Francine recognized. "'And aren't they going to sleep there?' retorted Piamish with a stupid horse laugh. "'But are you not afraid that the gar will be angry?' he went on in a voice so low that Froncine caught nothing of it.

"'Oh, well, he will be angry,' Maschater replied, in rather louder tones. "'But all the same, we shall have killed the blues. "'There is a carriage here,' he went on. "'We must put that away.' Pia Mich drew the coach by the pole, and Marcia Tere gave such a vigorous push to one of the wheels, that Francine found herself inside the barn, and just about to be locked up in it before she could think over her situation. Pia Mish went to help to fetch the hogshead of cider, which was to be served out to the soldiers of the escort by the orders of the Marquis. Marcia Tare walked the length of the coach on his way out to shut the door. door, when he felt a hand that stopped him by a clutch at the long hair of his goat-skin,

he recognized the eyes whose sweetness exercised a power over him like magnetism, and stood still for a moment as if spellbound. Francine sprang hastily out of the coach and spoke in the aggressive tone that is so wonderfully becoming to a woman in vexation. Pierre, what news did you bring as we came to that lady and her son? What are they doing here? Why are you hiding yourself? I want to know everything.

Her words brought an expression into the Schoen's face which Francine had never yet known there. The Breton drew his innocent mistress to the threshold of the door. He turned her so that the white rays of the moonlight fell upon her, and made his answer, gazing at her the while with terrible eyes. Yes, by my damnation, Francine, I will tell you, but only when you have sworn to me on this rosary, and he drew out a worn string of beads from under his coat skin,

swear upon this relic that you know, he went on, to answer me truly one single question. Froncine blushed as she looked at the rosary, some lover's keepsake between them, doubtless. It was on this, the Shouan went on, shaken with emotion, that you swore. He did not finish, for the peasant girl laid her hand on the lips of her wild lover to enjoin silence upon him. Is there any need for me to swear? asked she. He took his mistress gently by the hand, looked at her for a moment, and went on.

Is the young lady whom you serve, really Mademoiselle de Vernau? Froncine stood motionless with her arms at her sides, with bowed head and drooping eyelids, pale and confused. She is a baggage, Marcia Ter went on in a terrible voice. The pretty hand tried once more to cover his lips at that word, but this time he recoiled from her in fury. The little Breton maid no longer saw her lover before her, but a wild beast in all his natural ferocity. His brows were drawn into a heavy scowl,

his lips curled back in a snarl that showed his teeth. He looked like a dog defending his master. I left you a flower, and I find you garbage. Ah, why did I leave you? You are come here to betray us, to deliver up the gar? These phrases were roared rather than articulated. Terrified as Francine was, she dared to look this savage in the face at this last reproach, raised her eyes like an angel's to his,

and answered quietly. That is false. I will stake my salvation on it. These are some of your lady's notions. He lowered his head in his turn. She took his hand, came close to him caressingly, and said, Pierre, why are we going on like this? Listen, I don't know if you yourself understand something of all this,

for I can make nothing of it. but remember that this beautiful and noble young lady is my benefactress and yours too we live together almost like sisters no harm of any sort ought to come to her so long as we are with her not while we are both alive at any rate so swear to me that this shall be so for you are the only person here whom i can trust i am not the master here the shoo-win replied in a sullen tone his face grew dark she took his great hanging ears and gently twisted them as if she were caressing a cat well then promise me to use all the power you have to ensure the safety of our benefactress she continued seeing that he relented somewhat He shook his head as if dubious of his success, a gesture that made the Breton girl shudder. The escort arrived on the causeway at this critical moment. The tramp of the men and the clanking of their weapons woke the echoes of the courtyard

and apparently put an end to Marciateur's hesitation. Perhaps I shall succeed in saving her, said he to his mistress, if you can keep her in the house and whatever may happen he added stay there with her and keep the most absolute secrecy without that i will engage for nothing i promise she answered in her terror very well go in with you at once and let no one see that you are frightened not even your mistress yes The Shouan looked at her in a fatherly way. She pressed his hand and fled with the swiftness of a bird towards the flight of steps, while he slipped into the hedge he had left, like an actor who rushes to the wings as the curtain rises on a tragedy.

Do you know, Mel, this place looks to me like a regular mouse-trap, said Gerard as they reached the chateau. Yes, I see that perfectly well. The captain answered thoughtfully. Both officers hastened to post-sentinels so as to secure the causeway and the gate. Then they cast suspicious glances over the embankments and the lie of the land about them. Shah, said Merle, we must either frankly trust ourselves in these barracks or keep out of them altogether. Let us go in, answered Gerard.

Released from duty by a word from their commander, the soldiers quickly stacked their guns in conical piles and pitched their colors in front of the litter of straw with the cask of cider standing in the center of it. They broke up into groups, and a couple of peasants began to serve out rye bread and butter to them. The Marquis came forward and took the two officers into the salon. reached the top of the flight of steps, he took a look at the two wings of the house, where the aged larches were spreading their black branches, and called Beaupier and Clay de Care to him. Both of you go and reconnoitre the gardens and search the hedges, do you understand, and then post a sentinel in front of your line of defense.

May we light a fire before we set out on our prowl, adjutant? said Clay Decaire. Gerard nodded. You see it for yourself, Clay Decair, said Beaupier. The adjutant made a mistake in poking himself into this hornet's nest. If Broulo had been commanding us, he would never have run us into this corner. It is as if we were in the bottom of a pot here. What an ass you are! exclaimed Clay DeCare.

You, the king of sharp fellows, can't guess that this sentry-box of a chateau belongs to the amiable individual for whom our gay mera the most accomplished of captains is tuning his pipe he's going to marry her that's as easy to see as a well-polished bayonet and such a woman as that will be a credit to the demi-brigade true answered boppier and you might add that there is good cider here but i can't drink it with any relish in front of those beastly hedges. I seem to see La Rose and Vieux Chappot coming to grief in the ditch up yonder on La Pelerine. I shall never forget poor old La Rose's cue as long as I live. It bobbed up and down, like a knocker on a front door. Bopier, my friend, you have too much imagination for a soldier.

You ought to make poetry. at the National Institute. If I have too much imagination, Bopier answered, you yourself have hardly any. It will be a good while before you come to be consul. The laughter of the troop put an end to the dispute, as Clay DeCare found no answering shaft for his adversary in his quiver.

Are you ready to make your round? I myself am going to take to the right, said Bopier. All right, I will take the left, his comrade answered, but hold on a moment. I want to drink a glass of cider. My throat is all glued together like the sticking plaster that covered Ullo's best hat.

Unluckily, the perilous embankment where Francine had seen the men moving, lay on the left-hand side of the gardens, which Clay Descartes was neglecting to beat up at once. War is altogether a game of chance. As Géroix entered the salon and greeted the company, he gave a searching look round at the men of whom it was composed. His suspicions recurred to his mind in greater force.

He went suddenly up to Mademoiselle de Vernau and spoke to her in a low voice. I think you ought to make a retreat at once. We are not safe here. Can you fear anything in my house? She asked, laughing. You are safer here than you would be in my inn. A woman always answers unhesitatingly for her lover. The two officers were less uneasy,

and just then, in spite of some unimportant remarks about an absent guest whose consequence was sufficient to keep them waiting for him, the company went into the dining-room. Thanks to the usual silence which prevails at the beginning of a meal, Mademoiselle de Vernaut could pay some attention to this meeting so strange under the present circumstances. She herself had, in a manner, been the cause of it. It had come about through the ignorance which women who treated everything according to their own caprice are wont to bring to the most critical actions in life.

One fact suddenly struck her with surprise. The two Republican officers towered above the others by the impressive character of their features. Their long hair was drawn away from the temples and gathered at the nape of the neck into a huge plated tail, leaving the outlines of their foreheads clearly defined in a way that gives an appearance of sincerity and dignity to a young face. Their threadbare blue uniforms with the worn red facings, their epaulettes flung behind their shoulders in many a march, plainly showing a lack of great-coats throughout the army, even among the officers themselves, everything about them, in fact, brought out the strong contrast between these two

military men and the others who surrounded them. Ah, she said to herself, this is the nation, this is liberty. Then she glanced round the royalists, and there is the one man, a king and privilege, she said. She could not help admiring Merla's face, the gallant soldier so completely resembled the typical French trooper who can whistle an air as the bullets fall thick about him, and who cannot forego a jibe at a comrade who meets with an awkward accident. Gerard was impressive.

In his sternness and self-possession, he seemed to be one of those Republicans from conviction, who were to be met with in such numbers at this time in the French armies, an element of noble, unobtrusive devotion that lent to them an energy never known before. There is another of these men with a large outlook, said Mademoiselle de Verneux to herself. They are the masters of the present on which they take their stand. They are shattering the past, but it is for the benefit of the future. The thought made her melancholy because it had no bearing upon her lover. She turned towards him that a different feeling of admiration might make reparation for her tribute to that republic which she already began to hate.

She saw the Marquis surrounded by men fanatical and daring enough. and sufficiently keen speculators to attack a triumphant republic in the hope of reinstating a dead monarchy, a proscribed religion, princes errant and defunct privileges. His scope of action, she thought, is no less than that of the other. He is groping among the ruins of the past, out of which he seeks to make a fact. future. Her imagination, fancy-fed, hesitated between the new and the old ruins. Her conscience clamored in her that the one was fighting for a man and the other for a country. But by means of sentiment she had arrived at the point which is reached by the way of reason when it is recognized that

The king is the same thing as the country. The Marquis heard the sound of a man's footsteps in the salon and rose to go to meet him. He recognized the belated guest who tried to speak to him in surprise at his company, but the gar hid from the Republicans a sign by which he desired the stranger to take his place at the banquet and to keep silence. When the two Republican officers examined the features of their hosts, the suspicions at first entertained by them awoke afresh. Their prudence was aroused at the sight of the Abbe Gudin's ecclesiastical vestments and the outlandish costumes of the Shuans.

Their heed redoubled. They discovered amusing contrasts between the talk and the manners of the guests. If some of them showed symptoms of ultra-republicanism, the bearing of certain others was just as pronouncedly aristocratic. Certain glances exchanged between the Marquis and his guests which they detected, certain ambiguous words incautiously dropped, and more than either of these things, the round beards which adorned the throats of several guests who, unsuccess tried to conceal them by their cravats, apprised the officers of the truth, which struck

them both at the same moment. They communicated the same thought to each other by the same glance, for Madame de Guas had cleverly separated them, and they had to fall back upon the language of the eyes. The situation required that they should act adroitly. They did not know whether they were the masters of the chateau or whether they had been snared in a trap. They had no idea whether Mademoiselle de Vernaut was a dupe or an accomplice in this inexplicable affair.

But an unforeseen occurrence hurried matters to a crisis before they could fully recognize its gravity. The newly arrived guest was one of those men, square. built in every way, with a high-colored complexion, who fling their shoulders back as they walk, who seem to make a flutter in the atmosphere round about them, and to be of the opinion that everyone needs must take more than one look at them. In spite of his noble birth, he had taken life as a joke, which must be made the best of, and though he had a devout veneration for himself, he was good-natured, well-mannered, and witty, after the manner of those gentlemen

who, having finished their education at court, have retired to their estates, whereon, even after the lapse of twenty years, they will never believe that they have grown rusty. Men of this description say and do the wrong thing, with assured self-possession. They talk rubbish in a lively way, Show no little skill in fighting shy of good fortune, And take incredible pains to run their heads into nooses. He made up for lost time by plying his knife and fork in a way Which showed him to be a stout trencher man,

And then gave a look round at the company. At the sight of the two officers, his surprise was redoubled. he directed a questioning look at madame de guas who only replied by indicating mademoiselle de vernaille when he set eyes on the siren whose beauty was beginning to lay to rest the thoughts which madame de guas had at first aroused in the minds of the guests One of those insolent and derisive smiles that seemed to convey a whole scandalous chronicle broke over the countenance of the stout stranger. He bent and whispered to his neighbor two or three words that remained a mystery for Marie and the officers as they traveled from ear to ear and from mouth to mouth till they reached the heart of him into whom they must. strike death. The Vandean and Chouin chiefs turned their scrutiny upon the Marquis of Montreux with merciless curiosity. Madame de Guas's eyes were radiant with joy as they traveled from the Marquis to the astonished Mademoiselle

de Vernau. The anxious officers seemed to consult each other as they awaited the upshot of this extraordinary scene. Then, in a moment, the knives and forks in all hands ceased to move. Silence prevailed in the place, and all eyes were concentrated upon the gar. A terrific burst of fury had turned the flushed and passionate face to the hue of wax. The young chief turned towards the guest who had set this squib in motion and said in a deep, smothered voice, death of my soul count is that true he demanded on my honor the count answered bowing gravely the marquis lowered his eyes for one moment but he raised them immediately to turn them once more upon marie she was watching the struggle closely and received that deadly glance i would give me

My life, he muttered, to have my revenge at this moment. Madame de Guas understood these words from the mere movement of his lips, and smiled at the young man, as one smiles at a friend who is about to be delivered from his despair. The general scorn depicted upon all faces for Mademoiselle de Vernaille, raised the indignation of the two Republicans to the highest pitch, They rose abruptly. What do you desire, citizens? asked Madame de Guas. Our swords, citoyen, Gerard replied ironically.

You do not require them at table, said the Marquis coolly. No, but we are going to play at a game that you understand, said Gerard, as he reappeared. We shall see each of the game. a little closer here than we did at La Pelerine. The company remained struck dumb. The courtyard rang at that moment with a volley, fired all at once, and in a way that sounded terribly in the ears of the two officers. They both rushed to the flight of steps and saw about a hundred shrewan's taking aim at the

few soldiers who had survived the first round of fire. and shooting them down like hairs. These Bretons were coming up from the bank where Marcia Ter had stationed them at the risk of their lives, for during these maneuvers and after the last shots were fired a sound was heard through the cries of dying men. Several shewans had dropped like stones into the depths of the water which Eddie drowned about them. Piamish took Amit Sherar.

Marchetaire covered Merle. Captain, the Marquis said coolly, repeating to Merle the words that the Republican had spoken about him. You see that men are like meddlers, they ripen on straw. He waved his hand to show the captain the whole escort of blues, lying on the blood-drenched litter where the table. the shewans were dispatching the living and stripping the dead with incredible rapidity. I was quite right when I told you that your men would never reach La Pallarine, added the Marquis, and I think that your skull will be filled with lead before mine is.

What do you say? Monterein felt a hideous craving to slake his anger. His own taunts of the vanquished, the cold-blooded cruel, the very treachery of this military execution carried out without his orders but to which he now gave his countenance satisfied the inmost wishes of his heart in his wrath he would fain have destroyed all france the mangled blues and their surviving officers all of them guiltless of the crime for which he demanded vengeance were in his hands like so many cards which the gambler gnaws to pieces in his despair. I would rather perish in the same way than gloat over it, as you do, said Gerard. He looked at the naked blood-stained corpses of his men.

Murdered, he cried, and after this cowardly fashion. Like Louis XVIth, sir, the Marquis retorted sharply. There are mysteries in the trial of a king which you, sir, will never comprehend, said Gerard hotly. Bring a king to trial, cried the Marquis, now beside himself. Wage war against France, said Gerard contemptuously. Preposterous folly, said the Marquis. Marquis. Paraside, the Republican retorted. Regicide.

What, are you going to pick a quarrel in the last minute of your life? cried Marilla, Gile. True, said Gerard coldly. Then turning to the Marquis. Sir, he said, if you mean to put us to death, at least do us the favor to shoot us at once. Just like you. the captain put in, always in a hurry to be done with a thing. But when one sets out on a long journey,

my friend, and there is to be no breakfast the next morning, one has supper first. Proudly, and without a word, Girard sprang towards the wall. Piamish levelled his musket at him and glanced at the impassive marquis. He construed the silence of his chief as a command. land, and the adjutant major fell like a tree. Marsha-Ther rushed up to share this fresh spoil with Pia Mish, and they wrangled and croaked above the yet warm corpse like two famished ravens. If you like to finish your supper, Captain, you are at liberty to come with me, said the Marquis, who wished to keep Merle for an exchange of prisoners.

the captain went back with the marquis mechanically murmuring in a low voice as if he were reproaching himself it is that she devil of a light of love who is at the bottom of all this what will ilo say light of love exclaimed the marquis in a smothered voice then there is no doubt about what she really is the captain had apparently dealt a death-blow to montourin who followed him pale haggard exhausted and with tottering steps end of section thirteen section fourteen of the shewans by honore de balzac translated by ellen marriage this librivox recording is in the public domain read by bruce peary chapter two i another scene had been enacted in the dining-room which in the absence of the marquis had taken so menacing a turn that marie who found herself deprived of a protector could read her death-warrant written of a certainty in her rival's eyes. At the sound of the volley, everyone except Madame de Guas had risen from the table. "'Take your seats again,' said she. "'It is nothing. Our people are killing the blues.' When she saw that the Marquis was well out of the room, she rose.

"'Mademoiselle here,' she said, with the calmness of suppressed rage, came to carry off the gar from us. She came to try to give him up to the Republic. I could have given him up a score of times since this morning, replied Mademoiselle de Vernaut, and I have saved his life. Mademoiselle de Guas sprang at her rival with lightning swiftness. In a transport of blind fury, she rent the feeble loops of twisted braid that fastened the spencer of the girl, who stood aghast at this unlooked-for-a-seller. salt, and with violent hands broke into the sanctuary where the letter lay concealed, tearing her way through the material, the embroideries, corset, and shift.

Then she took advantage of this search to assuage her personal jealousy, and managed to lacerate her rival's throbbing breast, with such dexterity and fury that her nails left their traces in the blood that they had drawn, feeling the while a horrid pleasure in subjecting her victim to this detestable outrage. In the faint resistance which Marie offered to this furious woman, her unfastened hood fell back. Her hair, released from restraint, shook itself free in waving curls. Modesty had set her whole face aflame. Two burning tears fell that left their gleaming traces on her cheeks

and made the fire in her eyes glow brighter. She stood quivering at the indignity, shuddering under the eyes of those assembled. Even harsh judges would have believed in her innocence when they saw what she suffered. Hatred is so clumsy a calculator that Madame de Guas did not perceive that no one gave any heed whatever to her when she cried triumphantly, Look here, gentlemen, have I traduced this frightful creature now? not so very frightful said the stout guest who had brought about this disaster i have a prodigious liking for frights of this description here is an order said the merciless von der a lady signed by la place and countersigned by dubois several raised their heads at the two names and this is the gist of it madame de guois continued

Military citizen commandants of every rank, local administrators, procurer syndiques, and so forth, in the revolted departments, and especially those situated in the localities frequented by the C. Devon Marquis de Monteron, chief of the bandits, and nicknamed the Ga, are to give every help and assistance to the citoyenne Marie Vernaut, and to act in accordance with the orders which she may give them, each one, in everything that concerns him, and so on, and so on. Here is an opera girl taking an illustrious name to soil it with this infamy, she added. There was an evident stir of surprise among those assembled.

The contest is not on equal terms if the Republic is going to employ such pretty women against us, said the Baron de Guenique gaily. And women, moreover, who have nothing to lose, returned Madame de Guas. Nothing, said the Chevalier de Vissar. Mademoiselle has endowments which must bring her in a pretty large income. The Republic must be of a very frivolous turn to send us women of pleasure as envoys, cried the Abbe Goudin. But, unfortunately, Mademoiselle seeks those pleasures.

which kill, said Madame de Guas, with a hideous glee in her expression, which meant that the end to this jesting was approaching. How is it then that you are living still, madame, said Marie, rising to her feet after repairing the disorder in her dress? The cutting epigram silenced the company and compelled their respect for so proud a victim. Madame de Guas noticed a smile stealing over the lips of the chiefs. The irony in it infuriated her. She neither saw the entrance of the marquis nor of the captain who followed him.

Piemich, she called to the sheuwen, as she pointed at Mademoiselle de Vernaut. Here is my share of the spoil. I make her over to you. Do whatever you will with her. A shudder ran through the whole roomful at the words, Whatever you will, in that woman's mouth. For behind the marquis there appeared the hideous heads of mush-a-terre and pee-a-miche, and her fate was evident in all its horror.

Francine stood as if thunderstruck, with clasped hands and eyes brimming with tears. Mademoiselle de Vernaud, who recovered all her self-possession, in the face of danger, cast a look of scorn round the assembly, snatched her letter back from Madame de Guas, and held up her head. Her eyes were dry, but there was lightning in them as she hastened towards the door, where Marla's sword was standing. There she came upon the marquis, who stood apathetic and motionless as a statue. There was no trace of pity for her in his face. Every feature was rigid and immovable. Cut to the heart, her life grew hateful to her. This man, then, who had professed so much love for her, had listened to the taunts that had

been heaped upon her, had stood there, a frozen-hearted spectator of the outrage she had just suffered, when the beauties that a woman reserves for love had been subjection. to the general gaze. Perhaps she might have forgiven Montau-Ront for the scorn with which she regarded her, but it made her indignant that he should have seen her in an ignominious position. The dazed look she turned upon him was full of hate, for she felt a dreadful craving for revenge awaking within her. She saw death now close upon her,

and felt oppressed by her. her own powerlessness. Something surged up in her head like an eddying tide of madness. For her, with the boiling blood in her veins, the whole world seemed wrapped in flames. Instead of killing herself, therefore, she snatched up the sword, brandished it above the marquis, and drove it at him up to the hilt. But as the blade had slipped between his side and his arm, arm, the gar caught Marie by the wrist and dragged her from the room, aided by Piamish,

who had flung himself upon the frenzied girl just as she tried to kill the Marquis. At the sight of all this, Fonseen shrieked. Pierre! Pierre! Pierre! Pierre! she cried in piteous tones, following her mistress as she wailed. The Marquis left the stupefied assembly and went out, shutting the door. of the room behind him. He was still holding the girl's wrist tightly in a convulsive clutch when he reached the flight of steps, and though Pia Misha's nervous hands were almost crushing the bone of her arm, she was conscious of nothing but the burning fingers of the young chief at whom she gazed with her cold eyes.

"'You are hurting me, sir.' The Marquis looked at his mistress for an instant, and this was all the answer that he made. Have you something to avenge as foully as that woman has done? Said she. Then she shivered as she saw the corpses stretched out upon the litter, and she cried, The faith of a gentleman!

Ha! Her laughter was fearful to hear. A glorious day, she added. Yes, he echoed, a glorious day. and without a morrow. He dropped Mademoiselle Le Verne's hand when he had given one long last look at the magnificent creature,

whom he found it all but impossible to renounce. Neither of these two highly wrought spirits would give way. Perhaps the Marquis was waiting for a tear, but the girl's eyes were dry and proud. He turned away abruptly and left Piamese. his victim god will hear me marquis i shall pray to him to give you a glorious day without a morrow piomish rather at a loss with so splendid a prey drew her along with a mixture of respect and mockery in his gentleness the marquis heaved a sigh and returned to the dining-room turning upon his guests a face like that of a corpse with the eyes as yet unclosed. Captain Merle's presence was inexplicable for every actor

in this tragedy. Everyone looked at him questioningly and in surprise. Merle perceived their astonishment, and, smiling sadly, he spoke, still in character, to the Shuans. I do not believe, gentlemen, that you can refuse a glass of wine to a man who is about to go the last stage of his journey. It was just as the assemblage had been restored to equanimity by these words, uttered with a gallic light-heartedness which was bound to find favour with Fondayans, that Montaureen reappeared. His white face and the fixed look in his eyes struck a chill through every guest.

You shall see, said the captain, that the Dead men will set the living going. Ah, said the Marquis with the involuntary start of a man who wakes from sleep. There you are, my dear Council of War. He reached for a bottle of Vain de Grave as if to fill the other's glass. Thanks, citizen Marquis, but you see it might go to my head. At this witticism, Madame de Guas spoke smilingly to the guest, Come, she said, let us spare him the dessert.

You are very cruel, madame, in your vengeance, the captain answered. You forget that murdered friend of mine who is waiting for me, and I always keep my appointments. Captain, said the Marquis, you are at liberty. Stay, and he threw his glove towards him. Here is your passport. The Chasseur-D-Wa, no, they must not kill all the game at once. Life, said Merle. Very well, so be it then, but you are making a blunder.

You shall be closely pressed. I will engage for it, and I shall give you no quarter. You may be very clever, but you are not worth so much as Gé-Rar. Still, although your head will never make up to me for his, have it I must and will. He was in such a great hurry, retorted the Marquis. Goodbye. Perhaps I could drink with my own executioners,

but I cannot stay here with my friend's murderers, said the captain, and he vanished, leaving the guests to their amazement. Now then, gentlemen, what have you to say about the sheriff's apothecaries and attorneys who rule the Republic," asked the Marquis coolly. "'God's death-Marquis,' replied the Comte de Beauvoir. They are very ill-bred, at all events.

That fellow has affronted us, it seems to me. There had been a secret motive for the captain's prompt retreat. This girl who had met with such scorn and humiliation and who perhaps succumbed at that very moment, had, during the past scene, shown him beauties so difficult to forget, that as he went out he said to himself, if she does belong to that class, she is no ordinary girl at any rate, and she shall assuredly be my wife. He despaired so little of rescuing her from the clutches of these savages, that his first thought had been how he would take her under his protection in the future, having saved her life. Unfortunately, when the captain reached the flight of

steps, he found the courtyard deserted. He looked about him and gave ear to the silence, but heard nothing except the noisy far-off laughter of the shuans as they drank and divided the booty in the gardens. He ventured to to turn the corner of the fatal wing of the building, where his men had been shot down, and by the feeble light of one or two candles, he distinguished from his angle the chasseur-de-ois broken up into different groups. Neither Pi Amish nor Marcheterre nor the girl herself was there, but he suddenly felt a pull at the skirt of his uniform, and turning round he saw Fronsine

on her knees. where is she he asked i do not know pierre drove me away and ordered me not to stir which way did they go that way she answered pointing to the causeway then in the moonlight the captain and froncine discerned certain shadows falling on the waters of the lake the slender feminine form that they both recognized indistinct as it was made their hearts beat oh it is she said the breton maid mademoiselle de vernois was apparently standing there resignedly with several figures about her whose actions indicated a discussion there are several of them the captain exclaimed it is all one come along you will lose your life to no purpose said franzine i have lost it once already to-day he answered gaily both of them made their way towards the gloomy gateway on the other side of which this scene was taking place but froncine stopped half-way No, she called softly. I will go no further.

Pierre told me not to meddle. I know him. We shall spoil everything. Do anything you please, Monsieur Loficié, but keep away. If Pierre were to see you with me, he would kill you. Piamish appeared without the gate. He called to the postillion who had kept in the stable, saw the captain, and shouted,

as he leveled his musket at him. St. Anne of O'Re! The rector at Entrain was quite right when he told us that the Blues had signed a contract with the devil. Stop a bit, I will show you how to come to life again. Hello there! My life has been granted to me, shouted Marla, seeing himself threatened. Here is your chief's glove. Yes, answered the show-in. Just like a ghost, that.

I, on the other hand, do not grant you your life. Ave Maria! And he fired. The shot penetrated the captain's head. He dropped. And as Francine came up to him, she distinctly heard, Marilla, uttering these words. I would rather stay here with them than go back without them. The shoe-in rushed upon the blue to strip the body,

with the remark, there is one good thing about these men who come back, their clothes come to life again along with them. But when he saw, in the captain's hand, the glove of the gaw that had been held up for him, he stood in dismay at sight of that sacred token. I would not be in the skin of my mother's son, he exclaimed, and he vanished with the swiftness of a bird. In order to understand this unexpected meeting, so fatal for the captain, it is necessary to follow the fortunes of Mademoiselle de Vernaut,

after the Marquis, overcome with his rage and despair, had gone away and abandoned her to Pia Mish. Then Francine had seized Marcia Tare's arm in a spasm of fear, and with her eyes full of tears, had reminded him of the promise he, had made to her. At the distance of a few pia mish was dragging off his victim, much as he might have trailed some awkward burden after him. Marie, with loosened hair and bowed head, turned her eyes upon the lake, but she was held back by an iron grip and compelled to follow

the shewun with lagging steps. Now and again he turned to give her a look or to hasten her progress, and each time he did so a jovial thought was expressed on his face by a frightful smile. Isn't she grand? he cried with uncouth emphasis. Francine, hearing these words, recovered her power of speech. Pierre! Well, is he going to kill Mademoiselle? Not just at once, answered Marcia Ther, But she will resist, and if she dies, I shall die too.

Ah, well, you are too fond of her, so let her die, said Marcia Tere. If we two are rich and happy, we owe our good fortune to her. But anyhow, have you not promised me to save her from all misfortune? I will try, but stay there and don't stir away. marcia terr's arm was instantly released in froncine consumed by the most terrible anxiety waited in the courtyard marcheter came up with his companion just as the latter had entered the barn and forced his victim to get into the coach piamish demanded his fellow's aid to pull the coach out what do you want with all this inquired marcheterre well the grande galsh has given me the woman so all she has belongs to me as for the coach well and good you will make some money out of it but how about the woman she will fly at your face like a cat piamish burst in into a noisy laugh and replied,

"'Kheh, I shall take her home along with me, and I shall tie her up.' "'All right, let us put the horses in,' said Marcia Ter. A moment later Marcia Ter, who had left his companion to keep watch over his victim, brought the carriage out upon the causeway outside the gate. Piamish got in beside Mademoiselle de Vernaut, without noticing the start she made to fling herself.

into the water. Hello, Pia Mich, shouted Marcia Tere. What is it? I will buy your share of the plunder of you. Are you joking? asked the shoe and, pulling his prisoner by the skirt as a butcher might seize a calf that was escaping him. Let me have a look at her and I'll make you an offer. The unhappy girl was obliged to descend and to stand there between

the two Shuans, who each held one of her hands in his grasp, and gazed at her as the two elders must have stared at the bathing Susanna. Marchetair heaved a sigh. Will you take thirty good livres a year? Do you really mean it? Do you take it? asked Marcia Ter, stretching out his hand. Oh, it is a bargain, for I can have Breton girls with that and grand ones too.

But how about the carriage? Who is to have that?' said P. Amish, bethinking himself. "'That is mine,' cried Marcia Tere, with a ring in his terrible voice, which indicated a kind of ascendancy over all his companions due to the savagery of his nature. "'But suppose there should be money in the carriage.' "'Haven't you struck a bargain?' yes i closed with you all right go and look up the postilion who is fixed up in the stable but if there was any gold in it is there any in there marcia ter asked sharply of marie while he shook her by the arm i have a hundred crowns replied mademoiselle de vernoy at these words the two shoe once looked at each other well my good friend do not let us fall out about a republican girl said piomish in marcheter's ear shall we chuck her into the pond with a stone round her neck and divide the hundred crowns between us

i will give you the hundred crowns out of my share of d'orghumon's ransom cried marcheter suppressing the groan occasioned by this sacrifice piomish gave a hoarse kind of cry and went to find the postilion. His glee brought bad luck to the captain whom he met. When he heard the report of the gun, Marcia Ter hurried to the spot where Francine, still in terror, was praying with clasped hands upon her knees beside the poor captain, so vivid had been the effect upon her of the spectacle of the murder. run to your mistress said the shewain shortly she is safe he himself ran in search of the postilion and returned with the speed of lightning

as he passed by maryl's body for the second time he saw the glove of the gar which the dead hand was still clutching convulsively ah ho cried he piomish has tried foul play here it is not so sure that he He will live to draw that income of his. He tore away the glove and said to Mademoiselle de Vernaille, who was already in her place in the coach with Francine beside her. Here, take this glove. If you are attacked on the road, say, Oh, the gaw, and show this passport here, and no harm can come to you. Francine, he said, turning towards her and seizing her hand,

We are quits now with the woman there. The devil take her. Come with me." Would you have me leave her just now, at this moment? Francine answered in a melancholy voice. Marcia Terr first scratched his ear and then his forehead. Then he raised his head and showed his eyes with the fierce expression that made them formidable. You are right, said he.

said he. For a week I will leave you with her, but when once it is over, if you do not come to me. He did not finish the sentence, but he struck the muzzle of his rifle a heavy blow with the flat of his hand, made a faint of leveling it at his mistress, and went without waiting for a response. As soon as the shoo-win had gone, a stifled voice that seemed to rise from the surface of the pond cried, Madame, madame, the Postilion and the two women shuddered with horror, for several dead bodies had drifted thither. A blue, hiding behind a tree, showed himself. Let me get up on your box, or I am a dead.

man. That damned glass of cider that Clay Decair would drink has cost more than a pint of blood. If he had followed my example and made his rounds, our poor comrades would not be floating about there, like a fleet. End of Section 14. Section 15 of the show-ans by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Alan Marriage. This Liprovoc's recording is in the public domain. Read by Bruce Peary. Chapter Two Che

While these events were taking place without the House, the chiefs sent by the Vandaians were conferring with the Shuans, glass in hand, while the Marquis of Montereyreux presided. Ample potations of Bordeaux wine gave warmth to the debate, which grew momentous and serious as the banquet drew to a close. During the dessert, when the lines of concerted military and action had been laid down, and the royalist strength to the health of the Bourbons, the report of Pia Mish's gun sounded like an echo of the ill-omened war which these gay and noble conspirators

were fain to wage against the Republic. Madame de Guas shook with the pleasurable agitation which she felt at being rid of her rival, and at this the guests all looked at one another, and the Marquis rose from the table and went out. After all, he was in love with her, said Madame de Guas satirically. Go and keep him company, Monsieur de Fontaine. He will grow as tiresome as the flies if he gets into the blues. She went to the window which looked out upon the courtyard to try to see Marie's dead body.

Thence, by the last light of the setting moon, she could make out the coach, which was ascending the avenue between the apple trees with incredible speed. Mademoiselle de Vernaud's veil was fluttering in the breeze out of the coach window. Madame de Guas left the company and raged at what she saw. The Marquis was lounging on the flight of steps, deep in gloomy thoughts, as he watched about 150 shewans who had returned from the gardens, whether they had gone to divide their booty, and who was, were now about to finish the cider and the bread which had been promised to the blues.

These soldiers, new pattern, upon whom the hopes of the monarchy were founded, were drinking together in little knots, while seven or eight of their number were amusing themselves on the embankment opposite to the flight of steps by tying stones to the bodies of the blues and flinging them into the water. This spectacle, taken in connection with the various pictures presented by the eccentric costumes and the wild faces of the callous and uncivilized gar, was so extraordinary and so novel to Monsieur de Fontaine, who had observed a certain appearance of seemliness and discipline among the Vandean troops, that he seized this opportunity to

to say to the Marquis of Montserrat, what can you hope to do with such brutes as that? No great things you mean, my dear Count, replied the Gar. Will they ever be able to execute maneuvers when they are confronted with the Republicans? Never. Will they ever be able to do so much as to understand your orders and carry them out? never then what use will they be to you they will enable me to plunge my sword into the heart of the republic thundered the marquis to make fujer mine in three days and the length and breadth of brittany in ten come sir he continued in a milder voice set out for la vande let otichon seigne and the abbe bernier and the abbe bernieres only go ahead as quickly as I shall. Let them not open negotiations with the First Consul as they once led me to fear. Here he gave the Vandean's hand a mighty grasp, and we shall be within thirty leagues of Paris in three weeks.

But the Republic is sending sixty thousand men and General Brun against us. Sixty thousand men? Men? Really? cried the Marquis with a satirical smile. And with what men will Bonaparte carry on his Italian campaign? And as for General Brune, he will not come either. Bonaparte has dispatched him against the English in Holland.

And General Edouville, the friend of our friend, Barra, will take his place out here. Now do you understand me? When he heard him talk in this way, Monsieur de Fontaine looked at the marquis with an astute and arch-expression which seemed to convey a reproach to the speaker for not fully understanding the drift of the mysterious words which he had just uttered. Both gentlemen understood each other perfectly well from that moment, yet the young chief replied with an indefinable smile to the unspoken thought in the eyes of both. monsieur de fontaine do you know my arms my devices preserveere justa la more comte de fontaine grasped montaerand's hand and pressed it as he said i was left for dead on the field at catherine's so you will have no misgivings about me but believe my experience times are changed

Oh, yes, said La Bialdier, who joined them. You were young Marquis. Just listen to me. Your estates have not all been sold. Can you imagine devotion without a sacrifice? said Monterein. Do you really know the king? said La Biardiere.

Yes. And I admire you. The king, said the young child. is the priest, and I am fighting for the faith. And so they separated. The Vandean convinced of the necessity of a resignation to the course of events and of keeping his faith in his own heart, Labillardier to go back to England again, and Montaure to fight desperately and to force the Vandeans to cooperate with him by means of the victories

of which he dreamed. These events had stirred up so many emotions in the soul of Mademoiselle de Vernaille, that she lay back in the carriage utterly prostrated and as if dead when she had given the order to proceed to Fugier. Francine was silent, following the example of her mistress. The postilion, who was in terror of some fresh misadventure, made haste to reach the high road and very sorry.

reached the top of La Pelerine. In the dense white morning mists, Marie de Verneux made her way across the wide and beautiful valley of the Coennaud where this story began. From the summit of La Pellarine she could hardly see the schistice rock upon which the town of Fugier is built, and from which the three travelers were still some two leagues distant. de vernoi felt chilled through with the cold and thought of the poor infantryman perched up behind the carriage insisting in spite of his refusals that he should come in and sit beside francine the sight of fuguer drew her for a moment from her reverie moreover as the guard stationed at the st leonard gate refused admittance into the town to strangers she was compelled to to produce her credentials. Then she found herself protected, at last, from all hostile attempts,

as she came into this place, with its own townspeople for its sole defenders at the moment. The postillion could find no better sheltering roof for her than at the Post Inn. "'Madame,' said the blue whom she had rescued, "'if you should ever require to administer a sabre cut to any individual my life is at your service. I am good at that. My name is Jean Falcant. I am called Bopier, and I am a sergeant in the first company of Ullo's lads in the 72nd Demi Brigade, which they call the Mayan Says. Excuse my vanity and presumption, but I can do no more than offer you the life of the sergeant, because, for the time being, I have nothing else to put at your disposal. He turned on his heel and went away whistling.

The lower one looks in the ranks of society, said Marie with bitterness, the more one finds generosity of feeling without any parade of it. A marquis gives me up to death in return for life, while a sergeant. But there, let that be. When the beautiful Parisian lay in a well, warm bed, her faithful Francine hung about, waiting in vain for the affectionate word that she was accustomed to hear, but her mistress saw her still standing there uneasily, and said with every mark of sadness.

They call this a day, Francine, but I am ten years older for it. The next morning as she was getting up, Corantin presented himself to convent. upon Marie, who gave him admittance. Francine, she remarked, my misfortune must be great indeed when I can tolerate the sight of Quarantin. But for all that, when she saw him again, she instinctively felt for the thousandth time towards the man a repugnance that an acquaintance of two years standing had mitigated no wit. well said he smiling i thought you were going to succeed was it not he then whom you got hold of corinter she answered slowly with a sorrowful expression do not mention that affair to me unless i myself speak to you of it

he walked to and fro in the room attempting to divine the secret thoughts of this strange girl in whose glance there was a something which at times had power enough to disconcert the cleverest men i foresaw this check he began after a moment's pause i have been making inquiries in case you might care to make this town your headquarters we are in the very heart and centre of chouanari will you stay here the nod vouchsafed to him by way of a reply gave rise to conjectures as to yesterday's events on corinton's part which were partially correct i have taken a house for you he went on one confiscated by the nation and as yet unsold they are not very advanced in their notions hereabouts nobody has dared to buy the place because the emigrant to whom it belonged is thought to be an awkward customer it is close to st leonard's church and upon my honor one enjoys a charming view from the windows something can be made of the whole it is habitable will you go into it yes at once she exclaimed but you must let me have a few hours in which to get it cleaned and set to rights so that you may find everything to your mind what does it matter she said i should make no difficulty about living in a convent or in a jail. However, you can arrange things so that I can be left to rest in absolute solitude this evening.

There, you can leave me. Your presence is intolerable. I wish to be left alone with Francine. I am on better terms with her, perhaps, than with myself. There, goodbye. Go away. It was evident from the words thus volubly uttered and imbued by turns with coquetry, willfulness, and passion, that her serenity was completely restored.

Slumber, no doubt, had gradually dispelled the impressions of the previous day, and reflection had brought her counsels of revenge. If dark thoughts at times were depicted upon her face, they seemed to bear witness to the power possessed by some women of burying their most enthusiastic feelings in the depths of their souls, and of that capacity for dissimulation which enables them to smile graciously while they scheme out the ruin of their victim. She sat there, absorbed in plans for getting the marquee into her hands alive. for the first time she had known a life in accordance with her inmost wishes but of that life nothing remained to her now but the longing for revenge a revenge that should be absolute and unending this was her soul thought her one passionate desire froncine's words and little services drew no response for marie who seemed to be seen

leaping with her eyes open. The live-long day went by, and there was no outward sign or movement of the life which is the expression of our thoughts. She lay reclined on a kind of ottoman which she had made with chairs and pillows, and not till evening came did she languidly let fall these words, and no more, with her eyes upon Francine. Yesterday, my child, I saw clearly how one can live for love's soul's sake. Today, I have come to understand how one can die to have revenge. Yes, I would give my life to find him out wherever he may be, to come across him once more,

to entangle him than to have him in my power. But if, after a few days, I do not find this man who has slighted me lying humble and submissive at my feet, if I do not reduce him to an abject servitude, why, then I shall be beneath contempt, and I shall be no more a woman, I shall be no longer myself. The house which Courantin had proposed to Mademoiselle de Vernau was well adapted to gratify her innate love. of refinement and luxury in her surroundings. He himself appeared to have accumulated there everything which in his opinion ought to please her, with a lover's eagerness, or, more properly speaking, with the anxious servility of a man in power seeking to attach to his own interest some inferior who is necessary to him. He came to Mademoiselle de Vernaille the next day.

to suggest a removal to this improvised dwelling place. She scarcely did more than transfer herself from her rickety ottoman to a venerable sofa which Courantin had managed to find for her. But the fanciful Parisian entered into residence as if the house had belonged to her. She treated everything she saw with supreme indifference, and developed a sudden affinity with the oddness. which by degrees she appropriated to her own use as if they had long been familiar to her. These are trifling details, but not without significance in the portraiture of an unusual character.

She might have become well acquainted with this dwelling in her dreams or ever she saw the place. And here she lived upon the hatred within her, just as she would have existed upon love. At any rate, she said to herself, I have not inspired in him that insulting kind of pity, which is death, I do not owe my life to him. Oh, my first and last and only love. What an outcome of it all.

She made a spring at the startled Francine. Do you love too? Oh, yes, I remember. You are in love. How very fortunate I am to have a woman beside me who can understand. Well, my poor Francine, do not men seem to you to be horrible creatures? Why, he told me that he loved me, and he could not stand the slightest test. Yet if the whole world had spurned him, he should have found a refuge in my heart. If the whole universe had been against him, I would have stood by him. Once I used to watch a world filled with beings who came and went. They were only indifferent things for me, but that world of mine was only melancholy, not dreadful. And now what is it all without him? He will go on living, though I am not there at his side, though I do not speak to him,

nor touch him, nor hold him and clasp him close. Oh, rather than that, I will murder him myself as he sleeps. Froncine looked at her in alarm for a moment without speaking. Then she said in a gentle voice, Murder the man you love? Surely, when he loves you no longer. But after these fearful words, she hid her. her face in her hands, sank into her chair, and was mute.

The next day, someone broke suddenly into her room without being announced. It was Ulloo. His face was hard and stern, and Coronton came with him. She raised her eyes and trembled. You are come to require an account of your friends from me, she said. They are dead. I know it, answered Ullo. They did not die in the service of the Republic.

For me, and it was my doing. You are about to speak to me of our country. Will our country give back life to those who die for her? Will she so much as avenge them? Now I, she cried, will avenge them. Baleful visions of the tragedy in which she had nearly fallen a victim rose up and formed themselves before her eyes. A mad impulse seized this gracious being, who held modesty to be a woman's first artifice, and she marched abruptly over to the amazed commandant.

For a few murdered soldiers, she said, I will bring a head worth thousands of others beneath the axe upon your scaffold. Women carry on more but seldom, yet you, however old you may be, may pick up excellent stratagems in my school. I will give over to your bayonets. In him a whole family, his ancestors, his present, past, and future. Inasmuch as I have been kind and true to him, so I will be crafty and false. Yes, Commandant, I mean to bring this gallant gentleman home to me. He shall only leave my arms to go to his death. Yes, I shall never know a rival.

The wretch pronounced his own death sentence, A day without a morrow. We shall both of us be avenged, your republic and I. The Republic, she went on with a strange inflection in her voice that startled Dulo. So the rebel will die, after all, for bearing arms against his country. France herself will cheat me of my revenge. One life is such a little thing. One death can only atone for a single crime.

But since this gentleman has, one head to lose. In the night before he dies I will make him feel that he is losing more than a life. But before all things, Commandant, for it will be you who will put him to death, and a sigh broke from her. Act in such a sort that nothing shall betray my treason. Let him die with a full belief in my faith. That is all that I ask of you. Let him see nothing but me, me and my endearments. With that she stopped, but in the dark flush on her face, Ullo and Quarentin saw that anger and rage had not extinguished modesty. Marie shuddered violently as she uttered these last words.

She seemed to listen for them afresh as if she were. were not sure that she had spoken them. She trembled undisguisedly, and made the involuntary gesture of a woman who has suddenly dropped her veil. "'But you have had him already in your hands,' said Coranta. "'Very likely,' she replied bitterly. "'Why did you stop me when I had hold of him?' asked Ullo. "'Ah, commandant, we did not know that it was he.' Suddenly the excited woman who was hurriedly pacing to and fro,

flinging fiery glances at the two witnesses of this tempest, grew calmer. "'I hardly know myself,' she said, "'and her tones were those of a man. "'What is the good of talking? "'We must go in search of him.' "'Go in search of him.' reply du low my dear child mind that you do not we are not masters of this countryside and if you venture to stir a hundred paces out of the town you will either be killed or taken prisoner there is no such thing as danger for those who are seeking for vengeance she answered and with a disdainful gesture she dismissed the two men from her presence the sight of them filled her with shame

What a woman, Ullo exclaimed as he withdrew with Corantir. What a notion those police fellows in Paris have had, but she will never give him up to us, he added with a shake of the head. Oh, yes, she will, Corantir replied. Can you not see that she is in love with him? said Ullo. That is exactly the reason. Moreover, said Coronta, as he looked at the astonished commandant, I am on the spot to prevent any nonsense on her part, for to my thinking, comrade, there is no love affair worth three hundred thousand francs.

With that, this diplomatist of the home office left the soldier, who followed him with his eyes, and when he no longer heard the sound of the other's footsteps, he heaved a sigh, and remarked to himself so there is some advantage at times in being a mere thick head like me tonneur d'e if i hit upon the gar we will fight it out man to man or my name is not ullo for now that they have instituted councils of war if yonder fox is anything to go by my conscience will be no cleaner i should say than any truels of war if yonder fox is anything to go by my conscience will be no cleaner i should say than any trooper's shirt who has gone under fire for the first time. The massacre at the Vivitier and the desire to avenge his two friends had been quite as strong inducements to resume the command of his demi-brigade as the letter Ullo had received from the new Minister Belche, who informed him that, under the circumstances, his resignation could not

not be accepted. Along with the official dispatch came a confidential letter containing no information concerning Mademoiselle de Vernaud's mission, but informing him that this incident was completely without the scope of military operations and should therefore in no way hamper their progress. The share of the military leaders in that matter was confined, so far. it ran, to seconding the Honourable Citoyen if occasion should call for it. The reports which Ulu received, having made it clear to him that the mobilization of the Schuens was being directed upon Fugier, he threw two battalions of his demi-brigade

into that important place, bringing them by forced marches and hidden ways. Everything about him had wrought to bring back all the fire of his youth into the veteran commandant, the perils of his country, a hatred of the aristocracy whose partisans were threatening such a considerable district, and the promptings of friendship. This at last is the life I was longing for, cried Mademoiselle de Vernaud when she was alone with Francine. However swiftly the hours may pass, they are like centuries of thought to me. She took Francine's hand impulsively, and these words fell from her one by one in a voice like

the first Robin's notes after a storm. I cannot help it, my child. I always see those two exquisite lips, the short slightly prominent chin, and those eyes of fire. I hear again the hue of the postillion, and at last I fall to dreaming. And why is there such hatred in me when I awake? She heaved a long sigh and rose to her feet. She looked out for the first time over the country which had been given over to civil war by the cruel noble whom she would fain combat, she and no other. The view had an attraction for her.

It drew her out of doors to breathe more freely under the open sky. And if it was chance that determined her way, she was certainly under the influence of the dark power within us, which makes us look for a gleam of hope in some absurd course. Ideas that occur to us while we are under this spell are often realized, and then we attribute our instinctive insight to the faculty that we call presentiment, a power which is real, if unexplained, and which is ever ready at the beck and call of the passions, like a parasite who sometimes utters a true word among his lies. End of Section 15. Section 16 of the Shouans by Honorre de Bozac, translated by Ellen Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, read by Bruce Piri.

Chapter 3A A Day Without a Morrow As the final events of this story were largely determined by the character of the country in which they took place, a detailed description of it. is unavoidable, for otherwise the catastrophe will be difficult to understand. The town of Fugier is partly situated on a mass of schistice rock that might have fallen forward from the hills that close round the western end of the wide valley of the Coenon, each of which is differently named in different places round about.

A narrow ravine with the little stream called the Nonson running at the bottom of it separates the town from these hills. The eastern side of the mass of rock commands a view of the same landscape that the traveler enjoys from the top of La Pelerine. The only prospect from the western side is along the tortuous valley of the Nansan. But there is one spot

whence it is possible to see a segment of the great circle formed by the main valley as well as the picturesque windings of the smaller one that opens out into it. Here the townspeople had elected to make a promenade. Hither Mademoiselle de Verneux was betaking herself, and this very place was to be the stage on which the drama begun at the Vivitier was to be carried out. However picturesque, therefore, the other parts of the town of Fugier may be, attention must be exclusively directed to the disposition of the country that is visible from the highest point of the promenade. To give an idea of the appearance of the rock of Fugier, when seen from this side, a comparison

might be made between it and one of those huge towers about which Saracen architects have fashioned tier after tier of balconies, connected each with each by spiral staircases. The topmost point of the rock terminates in a Gothic church with its crockets, spire, and buttresses, completes the almost perfect sugar-loaf form of the whole. Before the door of this church, which is dedicated to Saint-Leonaut, lies a little irregularly shaped square. The soil there is banked up and sustained by a wall that runs round it like a balustrade, and it communicates with the promenade by a flight of steps.

This esplanade runs round about the rock like a second cornice, several Fathoms below the square of Saint-Leonard, presenting an open space planted with trees, which is brought to an end by the fortifications of the town. Then after a further interval of some ten fathoms of rocks and masonry which support this terrace, thanks partly to the fortunate disposition of the Schist and partly to patient industry, there lies a winding road called the Queen's Staircase, cut out of the Rwark. rock itself, and leading to a bridge built over the Nonson by Anne of Brittany. Underneath this road again, which makes a third cornice, the gardens slope in terraces

down to the river, looking like tears of staging covered with flowers. Lofty crags called the hills of Saint-Sulpice, after the name of the suburb of the town in which they rise, run parallel with the promenade and along. the riverside. Their sides slope gently down into the main valley, wherein they take a sharp turn towards the north. These steep, dark, and barren crags seem almost to touch the schistice rock of the promenade, coming in some places within a gunshot of them, and they shelter from the north wind, a narrow valley some hundred fathoms in depth, wherein the Nonson divides itself into three streams.

and waters a meadowland pleasantly laid out and filled with houses. To the south, just where the town, properly speaking, comes to an end and the suburb of Saint-Leonar begins, the rock of Fugier makes a curve, grows less lofty and precipitous, turns into the main valley and stretches along the river, which is thus shut in between it and the hills of Saint-Sulpice in a narrow pass. Thence the river flows in two streams towards the Cuenot, into which it falls. This picturesque range of rocky hillsides is named the Nidocroque. The dale, which is shut in by them, is called the Valley of Gibririi, and its rich meadows

produce a large proportion of the butter, known to epicure as Prevalet butter. At the spot where the promenade abuts upon the fortifications, a tower rises, called the Pepegoes Tower. The house in which Mademoiselle de Vernaille was staying was built upon this square structure. Beyond this point there is nothing but a sheer space, sometimes of wall, sometimes of rock, wherever the latter presents a smooth surface. The portion of the town that is built upon this lofty and impregnable base describes an immense half-moon, at the termination of which the rocks slope away and are hollowed out so as to give an outlet to the Nancourt. Here stands the gate of Saint-Sulpice, through which the way lies into the suburb that bears the same name.

On a knoll of granite rock, commanding the entrance into three valleys wherein several roads converge, rise the ancient crenellated turrets of the feudal castle of Fugier, one of the most considerable structures erected by the Dukes of Brittany, with its walls 15 fathoms high and 15 feet thick. On its eastern side, the castle is protected by a pond in which the Nonson rises, flowing thence through the moats and turning several mills between the gate of Saint-Sulpice and the drawbridges of the fortress. On the western side, the perpendicular rocks on which the castle

is built, form a sufficient defense. Thus, from the promenade to this magnificent relic of the Middle Ages, adorned with its mantling ivy and its turrets round or square, in any one of which a whole regiment might be quartered, the castle, the town, and its rock protected by a curtain of wall or by scarps hewn in the rock itself, form one immense horseshoe, surrounded by precipices, on the sides of which, time aiding them, the Bretons have beaten out a few narrow footpaths. Blocks of stone project here and there, as if by way of decoration, or water oozes out

through crannies where spindling trees are growing. Further on, a few less precipitous slabs of granite support a little grass which attracts the goats, and the heather grows everywhere, penetrating many a damp crevice and covering the dark broken surface with its rosy reefs. In the depth of this great funnel, the little river twists and winds in a land of meadow, always carpeted with soft verdure. At the foot of the castle there rises between several masses of granite, the church dedicated to Saint-Sulpice, which gives its name to the suburb on the other side of the Nanceau.

This suburb seems to lie in the bottom of an abyss. The pointed steeple of its church is not as high as the rocks that seem ready to fall down upon it and its surrounding cottages, which are picturesquely watered by certain branches of the Nonson, shaded by trees and adorned with gardens. These make an irregular indentation in the half-moon described by the promenade, the town, and the castle, and their details are in quaint contrast to the sober-looking amphitheater which they confront. The whole town of Fugier, with its churches and its suburbs, and even the hills of Saint-Soultice,

has for its frame and setting the heights of Rie-Eye, which form a part of the chain of hills that encircle the main valley of the Cuenot. are the most striking natural features of this country. Its principal characteristic is a rugged wildness, softened by intervals of smiling land, by a happy mingling of the most magnificent works of man with the caprices of a soil vexed by unlooked-for contrasts, and an indescribable something that takes us at unawares, that amazes and overawes us. In no other part of France does the traveller meet with contrasts on so magnificent a scale as in this wide valley of the Coennaud and among the dales that are almost hidden between

the craggy rocks of Fugier and the heights of Rilly. There is beauty of a rare kind in which chance is the predominating element, but which, for all that, lacks no charm due to the harmony of nature. Here are clear, limpid, rushing streams, hills clad in the luxuriant vegetation of these districts, stern masses of rock, and shapely buildings, natural fortifications and towers of granite built by man. Here are all the effects wrought by the play of light and shadow, all the varied hues of different kinds of foliage so highly valued by artists.

of houses alive with a busy population, and solitary places, where the granite scarcely affords a hold to the pale lichens that cling about stone surfaces. Here, in short, is every suggestion of beauty or of dread that can be looked for from a landscape, a poetry full of constantly renewed magic, of pictures of the grandest kind and charming scenes of country life. Here is Brittany in its flower. The Papago's Tower, as it is called, upon which the house occupied by Mademoiselle de Verneux was built, has its foundations at the very bottom of the precipice,

and rises to the level of the esplanade, which has been constructed, Cornice fashion, in front of St. Leonard's church. The view from this house, which is isolated on three of its sides, includes the great horseshoe, which has its starting point in the tower itself, the winding valley of the Nancourt, and the square of Saint-Leonar. The dwelling is one of a row of houses three centuries old, built of wood, and lying in a parallel line with the north side of the church in such a manner as to form a blind alley with it. The alley opens onto a steep road that passes along one side of the church and leads to

the gate of Saint-Leonard, towards which Mademoiselle de Vernaut was descending. Marie naturally felt no inclination to go up into the square before the church, beneath which she was standing, so she turned in the direction of the promenade. When she had passed through the little green-painted barrier, which stood before the guard-house now established in the tower of St. Leonard's gate, the conflict within her was stilled by the sight of the wonderful view. She first admired the wide stretch of the main valley of the Coennaud. The whole length and breadth of it met her eyes from the summit of La Pelerine to the level plain, through which the road runs to Vitre. Then her greg.

gaze rested upon the nido crock, upon the winding lines of the valley of Gibri, and upon the ridges of the hills, bathed as they were in the glow of the misty sunset. The depth of the valley of the Nonson almost startled her. The tallest poplars down below scarcely reached the height of the garden walls that lay beneath the queen's staircase. On she went, one marvel still succeeding to another, till she reached a point when she could see the main valley beyond the Dale of Gibari, and the whole lovely landscape was framed by the horseshoe of the town, the crags of sensile piece, and the heights of Rieh. At that hour of day, the smoke rising from the houses in the suburbs and the valleys made wreaths of cloud in the atmosphere, sphere. Every object dawned on the sight through a sort of bluish canopy. The garish daylight

hues had begun to fade, the tone of the sky changed to a pearly gray, the moon flung its misty light over the depths of the fair land below. All the surroundings tended to steep the soul in musings and to call memories of beloved forms. Suddenly, she lost all interest in the shingle roofs of the suburb of Saint-Soulpiece, in its church with the bold spire that was all but swallowed up by the depths of the valley, in the ivy and clematis that had grown for centuries over the walls of the old fortress, whence the Nancin issues, boiling over its mill wheels, and in all else in the landscape.

In vain the sunset poured a golden dust and sheets of crimson light over the peaceful dwelling scattered among the rocks along the stream and in the meadows far below. She was staring fixedly at the crags of Saint-Sulpice. The wild hope that had brought her out upon the promenade had been miraculously realized. Across the Ajonks and the bushes of broom that grew along the tops of the opposite hillsides,

she thought that, in spite of their goatskin clothing, she could recognize several of the guests at the Vizietiere. The gah was conspicuous among them. His slightest movements stood out against the soft glow of the sunset. Some paces behind the principal group she saw. her formidable enemy, Madame de Guas. For a moment, Mademoiselle de Vernaut might have thought that she was dreaming, but her rival's hatred very soon made it plain to her that everything in this dream had life. The rapt attention with which she was watching every slightest gesture on the part of the Marquis prevented her from noticing the care with which Madame de Guas was

aiming a rifle at her. The echoes of the hills rang with the report, and a ball whistling close to Marie revealed her rival's skill to her. She is sending me her card, she exclaimed, smiling to herself. In a moment there was a cry in chorus of, who goes there? Echoed by Sentinel after Sentinel, all the way from the castle to Saint-Leonard's gate, which made the shoe-uns aware. of the precautions taken by the Fugéret, since the least vulnerable side of their ramparts

was so well guarded. It is she, and it is he, said Marie to herself. With the speed of lightning, the idea of seeking, tracking, and surprising the marquis flashed across her. I have no weapon, she exclaimed. She bethought herself that just as she was. was leaving Paris, she had thrown into a trunk an elegant dagger, a thing that had once belonged to a sultan.

She had provided herself with it when she set out for the scene of the war, in the same humor that prompts some amusing beings to equip themselves with notebooks in which to jot down the ideas that occur to them upon a journey. She had been less attracted, however, by the prospect of bloodshed than by the mere pleasure of carrying a beautiful jeweled canjar, and of playing with the blade as clean as an eye-glance. Three days ago, when she had sought to kill herself to escape her rival's hideous revenge, she had keenly regretted leaving this weapon in her trunk. In a moment she reached the house again, found the dagger, thrust it into her belt,

muffled a great shawl round about her shoulders, wound a black lace scarf about her hair, covered her head with a large, flapping hat, like those worn by the showans, which she borrowed from a servant about the house, and with the self-possession which the passions sometimes bestow, she took up the glove belonging to the marquis, which Marcia Terre had given to her as a safe conduct. In response to Francine's alarmed inquiries, she replied, What would you have? I would go to hell to look for him.

And she went back to the promenade. The gala was still there in the same place, but he was alone. From the direction taken by his perspective glass, he appeared to be scrutinizing with a soldier's minute attention, the various fords of the Nancourt, the Queen's staircase, and the road that starts from the gate of Saint-Soul-Pice, winds by the church, and joins the high road within range of the guns of the castle. Mademoiselle de Vernaut sprang down the narrow paths made by the goat-herds and their flocks

upon the slopes of the promenade, gained the Queen's staircase, reached the foot of the crags, crossed the Nancourt, passed through the suburb, found her way instinctively, like a bird in the desert, among the perilous, scarped rocks of Saint-So Peace, and very soon reached a slippery track over the granite boulders. In spite of the bushes of broom, the thorny ajenks, and the sharp-loose stones, she began to climb with an amount of energy unknown perhaps in man, but which woman, when completely carried away by passion, possesses for a time. Night overtook Marie, just as she reached the summit, and tried to discover by the pale moonlight the way which the Marquis must have taken. It was a search made persistently, but without any success.

From the silence that prevailed throughout the region, she gathered that the shewans and their leader, had retired. She suddenly relinquished the effort, begun in passion, along with the hope that had inspired it. She found herself benighted and alone in the midst of a strange country where war was raging. She began to reflect, and Ullo's warning and Madame de Guas shot made her shudder with fear. The silence of night upon the hills was so deep that she could hear the least rustle of a wandering leaf, even a long way off. Such faint sounds as these, trembling in the air, gave a gloomy idea of the utter solitude and quiet. The wind blew furiously in the sky above, bringing up clouds that cast shadows below. The effects of

alternate light and darkness increased her fears by giving a fantastic and terrifying appearance to objects of the most harmless kind. She turned her eyes towards the houses in Fugier. The lights of every household glimmered like stars on earth, and all at once she described the Papago Tower. The distance she must traverse in order to reach her dwelling was short, indeed, but that distance consisted of a precipice. She had a sufficiently clear recollection of the abysses

at the brink of the narrow footpath by which she had come, to see that she would incur greater peril by trying to return to Fugier than by continuing her enterprise. She reflected that the Marquis' glove would deprive her nocturnal excursion of all its dangers, if the shewans should be in possession of the country. She had only Madame de Guas to dread. At the thought of her,

Marie clutched her dagger and tried to go in the direction of a house, of the roofs of which she had caught a glimpse as she reached the crag's a sensu piece. She made but slow progress. Never before had she known the majesty of darkness that oppresses a solitary being at night in the midst of a wild country, over which the mountains, like a company of giants, seem to bow their lofty heads. The rustle of her dress, caught by the gorse, made her tremble more than once, more than once

she quickened her pace, only to slacken it again with the thought that her last hour had come. But circumstances very soon assumed a character which might perhaps have daunted the boldest men, and which threw Marie into one of those panics that make such heavy demands upon the springs of life within us that everything strength as weakness is exaggerated in the individual. The weakest natures at such times show an unexpected strength, and the strongest grow frantic with terror. Marie heard strange sounds at a little distance. They were vague and distinct at the same time, just as the surrounding night was lighter and darker by turns. They

seemed to indicate tumult and confusion. She strained her ears to catch them. They rose from the depths of the earth, which appeared to be shaking with the trinked. ramp of a great multitude of men on the march. A momentary gleam of light allowed Mademoiselle de Verneux to see, at the distance of a few paces, a long file of horrid forms swaying like ears of corn in the fields, stealing along like goblin shapes. But hardly had she seen them when darkness, like a black curtain, fell again and hid from her this fearful vision full of yellow and glittering eyes. She shrank back and rushed swiftly

to the top of a slope to escape three of these horrible figures who were approaching her. Did you see him? asked one. I felt a cold wind when he passed near me, a hoarse voice replied. I myself breathed the dank air and the smell of a graveyard, said a third. How pale he is, the first speaker began. Why has he returned alone out of all who fell at La Pellarine? Asked the second. Ah, why indeed, replied the third.

Why should those who belong to the sacred heart have the preference? However, I would rather die unconfessed than wander about as he does, neither eating nor drinking without any blood in his veins or flesh on his bones. Ah! This exclamation, or rather fearful, yell, broke from one of the group as one of the shewans pointed to the slender form and pallid face of Mademoiselle de Vernau, who was flying with the speed of fear,

while none of them caught the slightest sound of her movements. There he is! Here he is! Where is he? There, here, he has vanished. No, yes. Do you see him? The words rolled out like the monotonous sound of waves upon the beach. Mademoiselle de Vernaut went on bravely towards the house and saw the dim figures of a crowd, which fled away at her approach with every sign of panic-stricken fear. A strange force within her seemed to urge her on. Its influence was overpile. her, a sensation of corporeal lightness which she could not understand, was a fresh source of terror to her. The shapes which rose in masses at her approach, as if from under the earth where they appeared

to be lying, gave groans which seemed to have nothing human about them. At last, and not without difficulty, she reached a garden, now lying waste, with all its fencing and hedges broken down. She showed her glove to a sentinel who stopped her, the moonlight fell upon her form, and at the sight the sentinel, who had pointed his carbine at Marie, let the weapon fall from his hand, uttering a hoarse cry that rang through the country round about. She saw large masses of buildings with the light here and there which showed that some of the rooms were inhabited, and without further let or hindrance, she reached the wall of the house.

Through the first window towards which she went, she beheld Madame de Guas and the chiefs who had come together at the Vivitier. This sight, combined with the consciousness of the peril she was in, made her reckless. She flung herself violently upon a low opening, covered with massive iron bars, and discerned the Marquis, two paces distant from her, melancholy and alone in a long vaulted hall. The reflections of the firelight from the hearth before which he was sitting in a cumbrous chair lighted up his face with flickering hues of red that made the whole scene look like a vision. The poor girl strained herself to the bars, trembling but otherwise motionless.

She hoped that she should hear him if he spoke in the deep silence that prevailed. She saw him looking pale, dejected, and disheartened. She flattered herself that she was one of the causes of his melancholy, and her anger turned to sympathy and sympathy to ten. tenderness, she suddenly felt that it was not vengeance alone that had drawn her thither. The Marquis rose to his feet, turned his head and stood bewildered when he beheld Mademoiselle de Vernaud's face as in a cloud there. He made a sign of scorn and impatience as he cried, Must I see that she-devil always before me even in my waking hours?

This intense contempt he had conceived for her drew a frenzied laugh from the poor girl. The young chief shuddered at it and sprang to the window. Mademoiselle de Vernaud fled. She heard a man's footsteps behind her and took her pursuer for Montaureau. In her desire to escape from him, she discerned no obstacles. She would have scaled walls or flown. through the air. She could have taken the road to hell, if so be she might read no longer in letters of flame, the words, he scorns you, written upon his forehead, words which

a voice repeated within her in trumpet tones. After walking on, she knew not with her, she stopped, for a chilly dampness seemed to strike through her. She heard the footsteps of several people, and impelled by fear, she descended a staircase that led into an underground cellar. As she reached the lowest step, she listened for the footsteps of the pursuers, trying to ascertain their direction, but though the sounds without were turbulent enough, she could hear the lamentable groans of a human being within, which added to her terrors. A streak of light from the head of the staircase led her to fear lest her hiding place had been discovered by her persecutors. Her desire to escape them lent her fresh strength.

A few moments later, when her ideas were more collected, she found it very difficult to explain the way in which she had contrived to scramble up the low wall on the top of which she was hiding. At first, she did not even notice the cramp which her constrained position caused her to experience, but the pain at last grew intolerable, for under the arch of the vault, she was much in a position of a crouching venus ensconced by some amateur in too narrow a niche. The wall itself was built of granite and fairly broad. it separated the staircase from the cellar whence the groans were issuing. She soon saw a stranger, clad in goatskins, come down the staircase beneath her, and turn under the archway without the least sign about him to indicate an excited surge.

In her eagerness to discover any chance of saving herself, Mademoiselle de Vernaud waited anxiously till the cellar was illuminated by the light which the stranger was carrying. Then she beheld, on the floor, a shapeless but living mass, trying to drag itself towards a certain part of the wall by violent and repeated jerks, like the convulsive writhings of a carp that has been drawn from the river and laid on the bank. End of Section 16.

Section 17 of the Schoens by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marrage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, read by Bruce Piri. Chapter 3B A small resinous torch soon cast a bluish and uncertain light over the cellar. In spite of the romance with which Mademoiselle de Verneux had invested the groined roof that rang with the sounds of agonized entreaties, she was compelled to recognize the fact that she was in an underground kitchen, which had been long unused.

Thus illuminated, the shapeless mass took the form of a short stout person whose every limb had been carefully tied, but who seemed to have been left on the damp flags of the pavement without any other precaution on the part of those who had seized him. At sight of the stranger, who carried a light in one hand and a faggot in the other, the prisoner gave a deep groan, which wrought so powerfully upon Mademoiselle de Vernaud's feelings that she forgot her own terror and despair, and the frightful cramp which was benumbing her doubled-up limbs. She could scarcely keep herself still.

The schoen flung down his faggot upon the hearth, after assuring himself of the scyms. solidity of an old pot-hook, which hung down the whole length of a sheet of cast-iron, and set the wood alight with his torch. Mademoiselle de Vernaud then recognized, not without alarm, the cunning Pia Misch, to whom her rival had assigned her. His form, lighted up by the flames, looked very like one of the tiny grotesque figures that Germans carve in wood. A broad grin overspread his furrowed and sunburnt face

At the wails that went up from his prisoner. You see, he remarked to the sufferer, That Christians, such as we are, do not go back on our words as you do. This fire here will take some of the stiffness out of your legs And out of your hands and tongue, too. But hold on, I do not see a dripping pan to put under your feet and they're so fat that they might put the fire out. Your house must be very badly furnished

when you can't find everything in it to make the master thoroughly comfortable when he is warming himself. At this the victim uttered a piercing shriek, as if he hoped that his voice would rise above the arched roof and bring someone to his rescue. Sing away as much as you like, Monsieur d'Orgement. They have all gone to bed up.

upstairs, and Masheter is coming, he will shut the cellar door. As he spoke, Pi Amish wrapped the butt-end of his carbine over the mantelpiece, the flags on the kitchen floor, the walls and the stoves, trying to discover the place where the miser had hidden his gold. The search was so cleverly conducted that Dogemont did not utter a further sound. He seemed possessed by the fear that some frightened servant. might have betrayed him, for though he had trusted nobody, his habits might have given rise to very well-grounded suspicions.

From time to time Piomish turned sharply and looked at his victim, as in the children's game when they try to guess from the unconscious expression of one of their number, the spot where he has hidden a given object as they move hither and thither in search of it. D'Orgmont showed some alarm for the Shouan's benefit when he struck a hollow sound from the stoves and seemed to have a mind to divert Piamish's credulous greed in this way for a time. Just then three other Shouan's came running down the staircase and suddenly entered the kitchen. Piamish abandoned his search when he saw Marcha Tere, flinging a glance at D'Orgman with all the ferocity that his disappointed avarice had aroused in him.

Marie-Lombocquins has come to life again," said Marcheterre, with a preoccupation that showed how all other interests faded away before such a momentous piece of news. I am not surprised at that, answered Pia Misch. He took the sacrament so often. He seemed to have Le Bon Dieu all to himself. Aha, remarked Menabien, but it is of no more help to him now than shoes to a dead man. He did not receive absolution before that business at La Pelerine, and there he is. He misguided that girl of Gogalus and was weighed down by a mortal sin.

Besides that, the Abbe Gudin told us that he would have to wait a couple of months before he could come back for good. We saw him go along in front, every man Jacobus. He is white and cold, and he flits about. There is the scent of the grave about him. And his reverence assured us that if the ghost could catch hold of anybody, he would make just such another of him, the fourth Schoen put in. The wry face of the last speaker aroused Mosh Atair from religious musings prompted by the newly wrought miracle, which, according to the Abbe Gouda, might be renewed for every pious

champion of religion and royalty. Now you see, Galop Chopin, he said to the Neophyte with a certain gravity, what comes of the slightest omission of the duties commanded by our holy religion. St. Anne of Alray counseled us not to pass over the smallest faults among ourselves. Your cousin, Piamiche, has asked for the surveillance of Fugier for you. The gar has entrusted you with it, and you will be well paid. But you perhaps know the sort of flour we need into bread for traitors? Yes, Monsieur Maschater.

Do you know why I tell you that? There are folk who hint that you have a hankering after cider and round pence. But there is to be no feathering of of your nest, you are to be our man now." With all due respect, Monsieur Macheteer, Cider and Pence are two good things which do not anywise hinder salvation. If my cousin makes any blunders, said Pia Mish, it will be for want of knowing better. No matter how it happens, cried Masha Tere in a voice that shook the roof, if anything

goes wrong, I shall not let him off. You shall answer for him," he added to P. Amish. If he gets himself into trouble, I will take it out of the lining of your goat-skins." But asking your pardon, Monsieur Marchatere, Galob Chopin began, hasn't it often happened to you yourself to mistake Contra Chouin for Chouin? My friend, replied Marcia Ther, in a dry tone of voice. Do not let that happen to you again, or I will slice you in two like a turnip. Those who are sent out by the gar will have his glove, but since this affair at the Vivitier, the Grand Gauce fastens a green ribbon to it."

Pia Miche jogged his comrade's elbow sharply, pointing out D'orghumon, who was pretending to sleep. But Marciateur and Pia Mich knew by experience that no one had ever yet slept by the side of their fire, and though the last remarks to Galop Chopin had been spoken in low tones, yet the sufferer might have understood them. So all four of the showans looked at him for a moment, and no doubt concluded that fear had deprived him of the use of his senses. Suddenly, Marcheter gave a slight sign. Piamish drew off D'Orgimus' shoes and stockings. Menabin and Galop Chopin seized him by the waist and carried him to the hearth.

Next, Marchitare took a band from the faggot and bound the miser's feet to the pot-hook. All these proceedings together with the incredible quickness of their movements forced cries from the victim, which grew heart-rending when Piamish had heaped up the glowing coals under his legs. "'My friends, my good friends!' cried D'Orgment. "'You will hurt me. I am a Christian, as you are.' "'You are lying in your throat,' answered Marciateur. Your brother denied the existence of God, and you, yourself, bought the Abbey of Juveni. The Abbe Goudin says that we may roast apostates without scruple.

But my brethren in religion I do not refuse to pay you. We gave you two weeks, and now two months have passed, and Golop Shopein here has received nothing. Then you have received nothing, Galopiope Shopein? asked the miser in despair. Nothing whatever, Monsieur D'Orgment, replied the Yvon. replied the alarmed Galop Schopen. The cries which had become a continuous kind of growl,

like the death-rottle of a dying man, began afresh with extraordinary violence. The shoe-uns were as much used to this kind of scene as to seeing dogs go about without shoes, and were looking on so coolly, while D'Orgmont rived and yelled, that they might have been travellers waiting round the fire in an inn kitchen

until the joint is sufficiently roasted to eat. I am dying, I am dying, cried the victim, and you will not have my money. Violent as his outcries were, Pia Mish noticed that the fire had not yet scorched him. It was stirred, therefore, in a very artistic fashion, so as to make the flames leap a little higher. At this, D'Orgement said in dejected tones, Untie me, my friends, what do you want? A hundred crowns, a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred thousand? I offer you two hundred crowns.

His tone was so piteous that Mademoiselle de Vernaud forgot her own danger and an exclamation broke from her. Who spoke? asked Marcia Ther. The shewans cast an easy glance. about them. The very man who were so courageous under a murderous fire from the cannon's mouth dared not face a ghost. Piamish alone heard with undivided attention the confession which increasing torments wrung from his victim. "'Five hundred crowns! Yes, I will pay it,' said the miser.

"'Shah, where are they?' calmly responded Piamish. Eh? Oh, they are under the first apple-tree. Holy Virgin! At the end of the garden, to the left! You are bandits! You are robbers! Oh, I am dying!

There are ten thousand francs there! I will not take francs, said Marchetere. They must be livres. Your republican crowns have heathen figures on them. They will never pass. It is all in livres. is all in levers, in good Louis d'Or. But let me loose, let me loose. You know where my life is, my hoard.' The foreshuans looked at each other, considering which of their number could be

trusted with the errand of unearthing the money. But just then their ferocious cruelty had so revolted Mademoiselle de Vernau, that although she could not be sure that the role assigned to her by her pale face would still preserve her from danger, she cried bravely in a deep tone of voice, Do you not fear the wrath of God? Unbind him, you savages! The shewans looked up. They saw eyes that shone like stars in mid-air and fled in terror. Mademoiselle de Vernaut sprang down into the kitchen, ran up to D'Orgermont, and drew him from the fire with such energy that the faggot band snapped. Then, with the blade of her dagger, she cut the cords with which he was bound.

As soon as the miser was liberated and stood on his feet, the first expression that crossed his face was a dolorous but sardonic smile. Off with you, he said. Go to the apple tree, Briggins. "'Oh, this is the second time that I have hoodwinked them, and they shall not get hold of me a third time.' Just then a woman's voice sounded outside. "'A ghost!' cried Madame de Guas.

"'A ghost! Idiots! It is she! A thousand crowns to anyone who will bring that harlot's head to me!' Mademoiselle de Vernaut turned pale, but the miser. smiled. He took her hand, drew her under the mantel-board of the chimney, and saw that she left no least trace of her passage by leading her round in such a way that the fire which took up but a little space was not disturbed. He pressed a spring. The sheet of cast-iron rose, and before their foes came back into the cellar, the heavy door of their hiding-place had slipped noiseless. uselessly back again. Then the fair Parisian understood the carp-like struggles which had been made by the luckless banker and to which she had been a witness.

You see, madame, cried Mosh Atterre. The ghost has taken the blue for his comrade. Great must their alarm have been, for such a dead silence followed his words that D'Orgimo and his companion could hear the shewans muttering. are they sancta anna aureaca gratia plenna domenus tecum and so forth the simpletons are saying their prayers exclaimed d'orjamon are you not afraid said mademoiselle de vernoit to her companion of making known our hiding-place the old miser's laugh dispelled the parisian girl's fears the plate is set in a slab of granite ten inches thick we can hear them but they can't hear us. He then gently took the hand of his liberatress and led her towards a crevice through which the

fresh breeze came in widths. She guessed that this opening had been contrived in the shaft of the chimney. "'Aha!' D'Orgement began again. The devil! My legs smart a bit. That filly of charrettes, as they call her at Nantes, is not such a fool as to gainsay those faithful believers of hers.

She knows very well that if they were not so besotted, they would not fight against their own interests. There she is, praying along with them. It must be a pretty sight to see her saying her, Ave, to Saint Anne of O'Re. She would be better employed in plundering a coach so as to pay me back those four thousand francs that she owes me. but with the costs and the interest it amounts up to quite four thousand seven hundred and forty-five francs and some centimes over their prayer ended the schoens rose from their knees and went old d'orgemont squeezed mademoiselle de verne's hand by way of apprising her that nevertheless danger still existed no madame cried p amish after a pause of a few minutes

You might stop here for ten years. They will not come back. But she has not gone out. She must be here. Persisted Charette's Philly. No, no, madame, they have flown right through the walls. Did not the devil once before fly away from here with a priest who had taken the oath under our eyes? You are a miser as he is, Pia Mish, and yet you can,

I can't see that the old niggard might very probably spend some thousands of livres in making a recess in the foundations of these vaults with a secret entrance to it. The girl and the miser heard the gathaw that broke from Pia Mish. Very true, he said. Stay here, Madame de Guas went on. Lie in wait for them as they come out. For one single shot, I will give you a... all that you will find in our usurer's treasury. If you want me to pardon you for selling that girl after I had told you to kill her, you must obey me.

"'Yusurer,' said old d'Orggement, and yet I only charged her nine percent on the loan. I had a mortgage, it is true, as a security. But now you see how grateful she is. Come, madame, if God punishes us for doing ill, the devil is here to punish us for doing well, and man's position between these two extremities, without any notion of what the future may be, always looks to my thinking like a sum in proportion, wherein the value of X is undiscoverable. He fetched a hollow-sounding sigh which was peculiar to him, for his breath, as it passed through his larynx, seemed to come in contact with and to strike two aged and relaxed vocal cords.

The sounds made by Pia Miche and Madame de Guas as they tried the walls, the vaulted roof, and the pavement, seemed to reassure D'Orgermont. He took his liberatress's hand to help her to climb a narrow, spiral staircase, hollowed in the thickness of the granite rock. when they had come up a score of steps the faint glow of a lamp lighted up their faces the miser stopped and turned to his companion looking closely at her face as if he had been gazing upon and turning over some doubtful bill to be discounted He heaved his terrible sigh. When I brought you here, he said after a moment's pause, I completely discharged the obligation under which you laid me, so I do not see why I should give— Leave me here, sir.

I want nothing of you, she said. Her last words, and possibly also the contempt visible in the beautiful face, reassured the little old man, for he went on after a fresh sigh. "'Ah, when I brought you here I did too much not to go through with it.' He politely helped Marie to climb some steps, arranged in a somewhat peculiar fashion, and brought her, half willingly, half reluctantly, into a little closet, four feet square, lighted by a lamp that hung from the roof. It was easy to see that the miser had made every preparation for spending more than one day in this retreat,

in case the exigencies of civil war compelled him to make some stay there. Don't go near the wall. You might get covered with white dust, D'Orgama exclaimed suddenly, as he thrust his hand hastily between the girl's shawl and the wall, which seemed to be newly whitewashed. The old miser's action produced an exactly opposite effect to the one intended. Mademoiselle de Verneux looked straight in front of her at once and saw a sort of construction in a corner.

A cry of terror broke from her as she remarked its shape, for she thought that some human being had been put there in a standing position and had been covered with plaster. D'Argment made a menacing sign, imposing silence upon her, and his own little china-blue eyes showed as much alarm as his companions. "'Foolish girl!' cried he. "'Did you think I had murdered him? "'That is my brother,' he said,

and there was a melancholy change in his sigh. He was the first rector to take the oath, and this was the one refuge where he was safe from the fury of the Shuans and of his fellow priests, to persecute such a well-regulated man as that. He was my elder brother. He had the patience to teach me the decimal system, he and no other. Oh, he was a worthy priest. He was thrifty and knew how to save. He died four years ago. I do not know what his disease was, but these priests, you see, have a habit of kneeling in prayer from time to time, and possibly he could never get used to the standing position here, as I myself have done. I put him here, otherwise they would have disinterred him. Someday I may be able to bury him in consecrated earth, as the poor fellow used to say, for he only took the oath through fear. A tear filled the hard eyes of the little old man.

His red wig looked less ugly to the girl who turned her own eyes away with an inward feeling of reverence for his sorrow. But notwithstanding his softened mood, D'Orgement spoke again. Do not go near the wall, or you— He did not take his gaze. off Mademoiselle de Vernaud's eyes, for in this way he hoped to prevent her from scrutinizing the partition walls of the closet, in which the scanty supply of air hardly sufficed for the requirements of breathing. Yet Marie managed to steal a glance round about her, undetected by her

argus, and from the eccentric protuberances in the walls, she inferred that the miser had built them himself out of bags of gold and silver. In another moment, D'Organt was seized with a strange kind of ecstasy. The painful smarting sensation in his legs and his apprehensions at the sight of a human being among his treasures were plainly to be seen in every wrinkle. But at the same time, there was an unaccustomed glow in his dry eyes, A generous emotion was aroused in him by the dangerous proximity of his neighbor with the pink and white cheeks that invited kisses and the dark velvet-like glances, so that the hot blood surged to his heart, in such a way that he hardly knew whether it betokened life or death. Are you married?

He asked in a faltering voice. No, she answered, smiling. I have a little property, he said, heaving his peculiar sigh, though I am not so rich as they all say I am. A young girl like you should be fond of diamonds, jewelry, carriages, and gold, he added, looking about him in a dismayed fashion. I have all these things to give you at my death, and if you liked.' There was so much calculation in the old man's eyes, even while this fleeting fancy possessed him, that while she shook her head, Mademoiselle de Vernaud could not help thinking that the miser had thought to marry her simply that he might bury his secret in the heart of a second self.

Money, she said, with an ironical glance at D'Orgmal that left him half-pleased, half-vexed. Money is nothing to me. If all the gold that I have refused were here, you would be three times richer than you are. Don't go near the wall. And yet nothing was asked of me but one look, she went on with indescribable pride. You were wrong. It was a capital piece of business. Just think of it.

Think that I have just heard a voice sounding here, broken Mademoiselle de Vernaille, and that one single syllable of it has more value for me than all your riches. You do not know how much. Before the miser could prevent her, Marie moved with her finger a little colored print, representing Louis XIV on horseback, and suddenly saw the marquis beneath her, engaged in loading a blunderbuss. The opening concealed by the tiny panel over which the print was pasted apparently corresponded with some ornamental carving on the ceiling of the next room, where the Royalist General had no doubt been sleeping.

D'Argmont slid the old print back again with extreme heedfulness and looked sternly at the young girl. Do not speak if you value your life. It is no cockle-shell that you have grappled, he whispered in her ear after a pause. Do you know that the Marquis of Montaureen draws a revenue of more than a hundred thousand livres from the rents of the states which have not yet been sold and the consuls have just issued a decree putting a stop to the sequestrations i saw it in the paper in the primidie de lille velein aha the gar there is a prettier man now is he not your eyes are sparkling like two new louis d'or mademoiselle vernon's glance's head became exceedingly animated when she heard afresh the sounds of the voice that she knew so well since she had been standing there buried as it were in a mine of wealth her mind which had been overwhelmed by these occurrences regained its elasticity she seemed to have made a sinister resolve and to have some idea of the method

of carrying it out there is no recovering from such contempt as that she said to herself and if he is to love me no more i will kill him no other woman shall have him no abbe no cried the young chief whose voice made itself heard it must be so my lord marquis the abbe goudin remonstrated stiffly You will scandalize all Brittany by giving this ball at St. James. Our villages are not stirred up by dancers, but by preachers. Have some small arms, and not fiddles. Abbe, you are clever enough to know that only in a general assembly of all our partisans can I see what I can undertake with them. A dinner seems to give a better opportunity of the same.

scrutinizing their countenances and of understanding their intentions than any possible espionage which is moreover abhorrent to me we will make them talk glass in hand marie trembled when she heard these words for the idea of going to the ball and of their avenging herself occurred to her do you take me for an idiot with your sermon against dancing monterey went on would not you yourself figure in a chacon very willingly to find yourself re-established under your new name of fathers of the faith do you really not know that bretons get up from mass to have a dance do you really not know that messieurs ed de neville and d'anginet had a conference with the first consul five days ago, over the question of restoring His Majesty, Louis XIII. If I am preparing at this moment to venture so rash a stroke, it is only to make the weight of our iron-bound shoes felt in these deliberations. Do you not know that all the chiefs in Lavonde, even Fontaine himself, are talking of submission?

Ah, sir, the princes have clearly been misled as to the Conduct. of things in France. The devotion which people tell them about is the devotion of placemen. Habé, if I have dipped my feet in blood, I will not wade waste deep in it without knowing wherefore. My devotion is for the king, and not for four cracked-brained enthusiasts, for men overwhelmed with debt, like Riefoel, for chauffeurs and Say it straight out, sir, for abbeys who collect imposts on the highways so as to carry on the war," interrupted the Abbe Gouda. Why should I not say it?

The Marquis answered tartly. I will say more. The heroic age of Lavande is past. My lord Marquis, we shall know how to work miracles without your aid. Yes. Like the miracle in Mountaint. Marie-Lombraquins case, the Marquis answered, smiling, Come now, Abbe, let us have done with it. I know that you yourself do not shrink from danger,

and you bring down a blue, or say your Oremus equally well. God helping me, I hope to make you take a part in the coronation of the king, with a mitre on your head. This last phrase certainly had a magical effect upon the Abbe, for there sounded the ring of a rifle, and he cried, I have fifty cartridges in my pockets, my lord Marquis, and my life is in the king's service. That is another debtor of mine, the miser said to Mademoiselle de Vernaille. I am not speaking of a paltry five or six hundred crowns,

which he borrowed of me, but of a debt of blood, which I hope will be paid in full. The fiendish Jesuit will never have as much evil befall him as I wish him. He swore that my brother should die and stirred up the district against him. And why? Because the poor man had been afraid of the new laws. He put his ear to a particular spot in his hiding place. All the brigands are making off, he said.

they are going to work some other miracle. If only they do not attempt to set fire to the house as they did last time by way of a goodbye. For another half-hour, or thereabouts Mademoiselle de Vernaille and Dorshmoe looked at each other, as each of them might have gazed at a picture. Then the gruff, coarse voice of Galop Chopin

called in a low tone. There is no more, For danger now, Monsieur d'Orgment, my thirty crowns have been well earned this time. My child, said the miser, swear to me that you will shut your eyes. Mademoiselle de Vernaut laid one of her hands over her eyelids, but for greater security the old man blew out the lamp, took his liberatress by the hand, and assisted her to descend seven or eight steps in an awkward passage. After a few minutes he gently drew down her hand, and she saw that she was in the miser's own room,

which the Marquis of Montseran had just vacated. "'You can go now, my dear child,' said the miser. "'Do not look about you in that way. You have no money, of course. See, here are ten crowns, clipped ones, but still they will pass, when you were out of the garden, you will find a footpath which leads to the town, or the district, as they call it nowadays. But as the Shuans are at Fugier, it is not to be supposed that you could return thither at once. So you may stand in need of a safe asylum.

Do not forget what I am going to tell you, and only take advantage of it in dire necessity. You will see a farmhouse beside the road which runs through the Dale of Ghibarri to the Niedocroch. Big Cibaut called Galop Chopin lives there. Go inside and say to his wife, Good day, Becaniere, and Barbette will hide you. If Galop Chopin should find you out, he will take you for a ghost, if it is night. And if it is broad daylight, ten crowns will mollify him. Goodbye.

Our accounts are squared. If you liked, he added with a wave of the hand that indicated the fields that lay round about his house, all that should be yours. Mademoiselle de Vernaud gave a grateful glance at this strange being, and succeeded in ringing a sigh from him, with several distinct tones in it. You will pay me back, my ten crowns, of course. I say nothing about interest, as you note. You can pay them to the credit of my account, to Master Patra, the notary in Fugier, who,

if you should wish it, would draw up our marriage contract. Fair treasure. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye, said she with a smile as she waved her hand to him. "'If you require any money,' he called to her, "'I will lend it to you at five percent. "'Yes, only five. Did I say five?'

"'But she had gone.' "'She looks to me like a good sort of girl,' Dorshmaud continued. "'But for all that, I shall make a change. in the secret contrivance in my chimney. Then he took a loaf that weed twelve pounds and a ham and returned to his hiding-place. End of Section 17. Section 18 of the show-ans by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, read by Bruce Peary.

3C. As Mademoiselle de Vernaut walked in the open country, she felt as though life had begun anew. The chilly morning air against her face revived her, after so many hours during which she had encountered a close atmosphere. She tried to find the footpath that the miser had described, but after the setting of the moon, the darkness grew so dense that she was compelled to go as chance determined. Very soon the dread of falling over a precipice took possession of her, and this saved her life, for she suddenly stopped with the presentiment that if she went a step further, she would find no earth beneath her feet.

A breath of yet colder wind which played in her hair, the murmur of streams, and her own instinct told her that she had come to the brink of the crags of Saint-Sulpice. She cast her arms about a tree, and waited, in keen anxiety for the dawn, for she heard sounds of armed men, human voices, and the trampling of horses. She felt thankful to the darkness which was preserving her from the peril of falling into the hands of the shewans, if, as the miser had told her, they were surrounding Fugierre. A faint purple light, like the beacon fires lighted at night as the sun. Signal of Liberty, passed over the mountain tops, but the lower slopes retained their bluish tints,

in contrast with the dewy mists that drifted over the valleys. Very soon a disk of ruby red rose slowly on the horizon. The skies felt its influence, the ups and downs of the landscape, the spire of Saint-Leonard's church, the crags and the meadows hidden in deep shadow, gradually began to appear. The trees perched upon the heights stood out against the fires of dawn. With a sudden gracious start, the sun unwound himself from the streamers of fiery red, of yellow and sapphire, that surrounded him.

The brilliant light united one sloping hillside to another by its level beams and overflowed valley after valley. The shadows fled away, and all nature was overwhelmed with daylight. The air trembled with a fresh breeze, the birds sang, and everything awoke to life again. But the young girl had barely had sufficient time to look down over the main features of this wonderful landscape, when, by a frequently recurring phenomenon in these cool parts of the world, the mist arose and spread themselves in sheets, filling the valleys and creeping up the slopes of the highest hills, concealing this fertile basin under a cloak like snow.

Very soon, Mademoiselle de Verneux could have believed that she beheld a view of a mare de glass, such as the Alps furnish. Then this atmosphere of cloud surged like the waves of the sea, flinging up opaque billows which softly poised themselves swayed or eddied violently caught bright rosy hues from the shafts of sunlight or showed themselves translucent here and there as a lake of liquid silver suddenly the north wind blew upon this phantasmagoria and dispelled the mists which left a rusty dew on the sward mademoiselle de vernois could then see a huge brown patch situated on the rocks of fujer seven or eight hundred armed shawans were hurrying about in the suburb of st sopice like ants on an ant-hill the immediate neighborhood of the castle was being furiously attacked by three thousand men who were stationed there and who seemed to have sprung up by magic The sleeping town would have yielded, despite its venerable ramparts and hoary old towers, if Ullo had not been on the watch.

A concealed battery on a height in the midst of the hollow basin formed by the ramparts answered the Shuan's first volley, taking them in flank upon the road that led to the castle. The grape-shot cleared the road and swept it clean. Then, a company made a sortie from the Sassalpiece gate, took advantage of the Schoen's surprise, drew themselves up upon the road, and opened a deadly fire upon them. The Schoen's did not attempt to resist when they saw the ramparts covered with soldiers, as if the art of the engineer had suddenly traced blue lines about them, while the fire from the fortress covered that of the Republican sharpshoot. other shawans however had made themselves masters of the little valley of a nonson had climbed the rocky galleries and reached the promenade to which they mounted till it was covered with goat-skins which made it look like the time-embrowned thatch of a hovel

loud reports were heard at that very moment from the quarter of the town that overlooks the coenon valley fujer was clearly surrounded and attacked at all points. A fire which showed itself on the eastern side of the rock showed that the shewans were even burning the suburbs, but the flakes of fire that sprang up from the shingle roofs or the broom thatch soon ceased, and a few columns of dark smoke showed that the conflagration was extinguished. Black and brown clouds once more hid the scene from Mademoiselle de Vernaut,

but the wind soon cleared away the smoke of the powder. The Republican commandant had already changed the direction of his guns, so that they could bear successively upon the length of the valley of the Nancourt, upon the Queen's staircase, and the rock itself, when from the highest point of the promenade he had seen his first orders admirably carried out. Two guns by the guardhouse of St. Leonard's gate were mowing down the ant-like swarms of Schewens who had seized that position, while the National Guard of Fugier, precipitating themselves into the square by the church, were completing the defeat of the enemy.

The affair did not last half an hour, and did not cost the Blues a hundred men. The Schuans, discomfited and defeated, were were drawing off already in all directions in obedience to repeated orders from the ga whose bold stroke had come to nothing, though he did not know this, in consequence of the affair at the Vietiere, which had brought back Ullo in secret to Fugier. The artillery had only arrived there during this very night. for the mere rumor that ammunition was being transported thither would have sufficed to make Montserrand desist from an enterprise which, if undertaken, could only have a disastrous result. As a matter of fact, Ullo had as much desire to give a severe lesson to the Ga as the Ga could have had to gain a success in the moment he had selected to influence the determinations

of the first consul. At the first cannon-shot, the Marquis knew that it would be madness to carry this failure of a surprise any further from motives of vanity. So to prevent a useless slaughter of his schoens, he hastened to send out seven or eight messengers bearing orders to operate a prompt retreat at every point. The commandant, seeing his antagonist with a number of advisers about him, of whom Madame de Guas was one, tried to send a volley over to them upon the rocks of Saint-Sulpice, but the place had been selected too cleverly for the young chief not to be in security.

Ullo changed his tactics all at once from the defensive to the aggressive. At the first movements which revealed the intentions of the Marquis, the company which was posted beneath the walls of the castle set themselves to work to cut off the Schewen's retreat by seizing the outlets at the upper end of the Nansen Valley. In spite of her animosity, Mademoiselle de Vernaud's sympathies were with the side on which her lover commanded. She turned quickly to see if the passage was free at the the lower end.

But she saw the blues, who had no doubt been victorious on the other side of Fugier, returning from the Coennaux Valley through the Dale of Gibri so as to seize the knee-do-cock, and that portion of the crags of Saint-Sou-Pice where the lower exits from the Nancin Valley were situated. The Schuans, thus shut up in the narrow space of meadow at the bottom of the ravine, seemed certain to be cut off to a man. So accurately had the old Republican commandant foreseen the event, and so skillfully had he laid his plans. But the canon, which had done Ullo such good service, were powerless upon either point. A desperate struggle began, and the town of Fugier once safe,

the affair assumed the character of an engagement to which the showans were accustomed. Then, Mademoiselle de Verneux understood the presence of the large bodies of men which she had come upon in the open country, the meeting of the chiefs in D'Orgermont's house, and all the occurrences of the previous night, and was unable to account for her escape from so many perils. This enterprise, suggested by despair, had so keen an interest for her that she stood motionless, watching the moving pictures that spread themselves beneath her eyes. The fighting that went on at the foot of the hills of sensu-piece soon had yet another interest for her. When the Marquis and his friends saw that the Schewens were almost at the mercy of the Blues, They rushed to their assistance down the Nansan Valley.

The foot of the crags was covered with a crowd, composed of furious groups who were fighting out the issues of life and death, both the weapons and the ground being in favor of the goatskins. Imperceptibly, the shifting battlefield expanded its limits. The schewens scattered themselves and gained possession of the rocks, thanks to the help of the shrubs which grew here and there. A little later, Mademoiselle de Verneux was startled by the sight of her foes once more upon the summits where they strenuously defended the perilous footpaths by which they had come.

As every passage on the hill was now in the possession of one side or the other, she was afraid of finding herself in among them. She left the great tree behind which she had been standing, and took to flight, meaning to take advantage of the old Miser's advice. After she had hastened for some time along the slope of the hills of Saint-Soupice, which overlooks the main valley of the Coennaud, she saw a cow-shed in the distance, and concluded that it must be one of the outbuildings about Galop Chopin's house, and that he must have left his wife by herself while the fighting went forward.

Encouraged by these conjectures, Mademoiselle de Verneux hoped to be well received in the dwelling, and to be allowed to spend a few hours there until it should be possible to return to Fugier without danger. To all appearance, Ullo would gain the day. The Schuens were flying rapidly so that she heard gunshots all about her, and the fear of being by a stray ball led her to reach the cottage, whose chimney served as a landmark without delay. The path which she followed led to a sort of cart-shed. Its roof, thatched with broom, was supported by the trunks of four great trees which

still retained their bark. There was a wall of dob and wattle at the back of it. In the shed itself there was a cider press, a threshing floor for buckwheat, and some ploughing apparatus. She stopped short beside one of the posts, hesitating to cross the miry swamp that did duty for a yard before this house, which afar off she, like a true Parisian, had taken for a cow shed. The cabin sheltered from the blasts of the north wind by a no one.

that rose above its roof, and against which it was built, was not destitute of a certain poetry of its own, for saplings and heather and rock flowers hung in wreaths and garlands about it. A rustic staircase contrived between the shed and the house allowed its inmates to ascend the heights of the knoll to breathe the fresh air. To the left of the cabin the knoll fell away abruptly, so that a succession of fields was visible, the first of which belonged in all probability to this farm. A border of pleasant copse wood ran about these fields which were separated by banks of

earth upon which trees had been planted. The nearest field completely surrounded the yard. The way thither was closed by the huge, half-rotten trunk of a tree, a barrier peculiar to Brittany called by a name which later on will furnish a final digression on the characteristics of the country. Between the staircase that had been cut in the rock and the track which was closed by the great log and beneath the overhanging rocks stood the cottage with the swamp before it. The four corners of the hovel were built of roughly hewn blocks of granite, laid one over

the other, thus maintaining the wretched walls in position. These were built up of a mixture of earthen bricks, beams of wood, and flintstones. Half of the roof was covered with broom in the place of straw thatch, and the other half with shingles or narrow boards cut in the shape of roofing slates. showing that the house consisted of two parts, and as a matter of fact, one part, divided off by a crazy hurdle, served as a buyer, while the owners lived in the other division. Owing to the near vicinity of the town, there were improvements about this cabin which would be completely lacking anywhere two leagues further away, and yet it showed very plainly the insecure conduct. of life, to which wars and feudal customs had so rigorously subjected the habits of the surf, that even today many of the peasants in these parts still call the chateau in which

their landlords dwell, the house. Edmeselde Verneux studied the place with an amazement that can readily be imagined, and at last she noticed a broken block of granite here and there, in the mire of the yard, arranged to afford a method of access to the dwelling, not unattended with danger. But hearing the sounds of musketry drawing appreciably nearer, she sprang from stone to stone as if she were crossing a river to ask for shelter. Entrance to the house was barred by one of those doors that are made in two separate pieces,

the lower part being of solid and substantial timber, while the upper portion was protected by a shutter which served as a window. Shop doors in certain little towns in France are often made on this model, but they are much more elaborate and the lower portion is supplied with an alarm bell. The lower half of this particular door was opened by unfastening a wooden latchet worthy of the Golden Age, while the upper part was only closed during the night, since the daylight entered the room through no other opening. A rough sort of window certainly existed, but the panes were like bottle ends, and the massive

leaden frames which supported them took up so much room that the window seemed to be intended rather to intercept the light than to afford a passage to it. As soon as Mademoiselle de Vernauie had made the door turn on its creaking hinges, she encountered an alarming amoniacal odor which issued in widths from the cottage, and saw how the cattle had kicked to pieces the partition wall that divided them from the house-place. So the inside of the farmhouse, for such it was, was quite in keeping with the outside. Mademoiselle de Vernau was asking herself how it was possible that human beings should live in such confirmed squalor when a tiny, ragged urchin, who seemed to be about eight or nine years old, suddenly showed a fresh pink and white face, plump cheeks, bright eyes, ivory teeth, and fair hair that fell in tangled locks over his half-naked shoulders. His limbs were sturdy, and in his attitude there was the charm of wonder, and the wild simplicity that makes a child's eyes grow larger. The little lad's beauty was of the heroic order.

"'Where is your mother?' said Marie, in a gentle tone, as she stooped down to kiss his eyes. After receiving the kiss, the child slipped away like an eel and disappeared. behind a manure heap, which lay between the path and the house upon the slope of the knoll. Galop Chopin was wont, like many other Breton farmers, who have a system of agriculture peculiar to them to pile manure in high situations, so that by the time they come to use it, the rain has washed all the goodness out of it. Marie, being left in possession of the cabin for some minutes, quickly made an inventory of its contents.

The whole house consisted of the one room in which she was waiting for Barbette. The most conspicuous and pretentious object was a vast fireplace, the mantelpiece being made out of a single slab of blue granite. The etymology of the word mantelpiece was made apparent by a scrap of green surge, bordered with pale green ribbon and scalloped at the edges which was hanging along the slab, in the midst of which stood a colored plaster cast of the Virgin. On the base of the statuette, Mademoiselle de Verneau read a couple of lines of religious poetry, which are very widely popular in the district.

of this place am I, the mother of God who dwells on high." Behind the Virgin there was a frightful picture splashed over with red and blue, a pretense of a painting that represented Saint-Labre, a bed covered with green surge of the kind called tomb-shaped, a clumsy cradle, a wheel, some rough chairs, and a carved dresser fitted up with the few utensils, almost completed the list of Galop Schopen's furniture. Before the window there was a long table and a couple of benches made of chestnut wood. The light that fell through the panes of glass gave them the deep hues of old mahogany. Beneath the bunghole of a great hogshead of cider, Mademoiselle de Verneau noticed a patch

of moist, yellowish, thick deposit. The dampness was corroding the floor, although it was made of blocks of granite set in red clay, and proved that the master of the abode had come honestly by his Schoen nickname. Translator's footnote, Galop Chopin literally means toss-pot. End of footnote. Mademoiselle de Vernau raised her eyes to avoid this sight, and it seemed to her forthwith that she had seen all the bats in the world so numerous were the spider's webs that hung from the beams. Two huge pitchers, filled with cider, were standing on the long table. These utensils are a sort of brown earthenware jug of a pattern which is still in use in several districts in France,

and which a Parisian can imagine for himself by thinking of the pots in which epicures serve Brittany butter. But the body of the jug is rounder, the glaze is unevenly distributed, and shaded over with brown splashes like certain shells. The pitcher ends in a mouth of a kind, not unlike the head of a frog, thrust out above the water to take the air. The two pitchers had attracted Marie's attention last of all. But the sound of the fight grew more and more distinct and compelled her to look about for a suitable hiding place without waiting for Barbette, when the latter suddenly appeared. Good day be canier, she said, repressing an involuntary smile

at the sight of a face that rather resembled the heads which architect set by way of ornament in the centres of window arches. Aha, you come from D'Orgermont, answered Barbette with no particular eagerness. Where will you put me, for the schoens are here? There, said Barbette, as much at a loss at the sight of the beauty, as well as of the eccentric attire, of a being whom she did not venture to include among her own sense, sex. There, in the priest's hole, she took her to the head of the bed and put her between it and the wall, but both of them were thunderstruck just then, for they thought they could hear

strange footsteps hurrying through the swamp. Barbette had scarcely time to draw one of the bed curtains and to huddle Marie in it before she found herself face to face with a fugitive of Shuan. Good wife, where can one hide here? I am the Comte de Beauvon." Manemois trembled as she recognized the voice of the dinner guest who had spoken the few words, still a mystery for her, which had brought about the catastrophe at the Vivitier. Alas, monseigneur, you see there is nothing here.

The best thing I can do is to go, but I will be. watch, and if the blues are coming, I will give you warning. If I were to stay here and they found me with you, they would burn my house down. So Barbette went out, for she had not wit enough to reconcile the opposing claims of two foes, each of whom had an equal right to the hiding place by virtue of the double part her husband was playing. I have two shots to fire, said the Count despairingly, but they have gone past me already. Shaw, I should be unlucky indeed if the fancy were to take them to look under the bed as they come back. He gently leaned his gun against the bedpost, beside which Marie stood, wrapped about with the

green surge curtain. Then he stooped down to make quite sure that. he could creep under the bed, he could not have failed to see the feet of the other refugee, who, in the desperation of the moment, snatched up his gun, sprang quickly out into the room and threatened the count with it. Appeal of laughter broke from him, however, as he recognized her. For in order to hide herself, Marie had taken off her enormous shoe-un hat, and And thick locks of her hair were escaping from beneath a sort of net of lace.

Do not laugh, Count, you are my prisoner. If you make any movement, you shall know what an incensed woman is capable of. Just as the Count and Marie were looking at each other with widely different feelings, confused voices were shouting among the rocks. Save the gar! Scatter yourselves! the gar, scatter yourselves." Barbette's voice rose above the uproar without, and was heard by the two foes inside

the cottage, with very different sensations, for she was speaking less to her own son than to them. Don't you see the blues? Barbette cried tartly. Come here, you naughty little lad, or I will go after you. Do you want to get shot? Come, run away, quickly. While all these small events were rapidly taking place,

a blue dashed into the swamp. Beaupier called Mademoiselle Vernaille. At the sound of her voice, Beaupier ran up and took a somewhat better aim at the count than his liberatress had done. Aristocrat, said the waggish soldier, do not stir, or I will bring you down like the Bastille in a brace of shakes.

Monsieur Beaupier, said Mademoiselle de Vernaut in persuasive tones, you are answerable to me for this prisoner. Do it in your own way, but you must deliver him over to me at Fugier, safe and sound. Enough, madame. Is the way to Fugier clear by now? It is safe unless the shewins come to. to life again. Mademoiselle the very night cheerfully equipped herself with the late fowling piece,

gave her prisoner an ironical smile as she remarked, Goodbye, Monsieur Le Comte, we shall meet again, and went swiftly up the pathway after putting on her great hat again. I am learning a little too late, said the Comte de Beauvoir bitterly, that one should never jest concerning the honour of the honour of, of women who have none left." "'Aristocrat!' cried Bopier with asperity. "'Say nothing against that beautiful lady if you do not wish me to send you to your seed-de-von

paradise.'" End of Section 18. Section 19 of the shewans by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. read by Bruce Peary. Chapter 3 D. Mademoiselle de Verneux returned to Fugier by the paths which connect the crags of Saint-Soupice with the Nido Croc. When she reached these latter heights and hastened along the winding track which had been beaten out over the rough surface of the granite, she admired the lovely little Monson Valley, but lately so full of tumult, now so absolutely peaceful.

seen from that point of view, the Glen looked like a green alley. Mademoiselle de Vernaut returned by way of Saint-Leonade's gate, where the narrow path came to an end. The townspeople were still in anxiety about the struggle, which, judging by the firing that they heard in the distance, seemed likely to last through the day. They were awaiting the return of the National Guard to know the full extent of their losses. When this girl appeared in her grotesque costume with her hair disheveled, a gun in her hand, her dress and shawl drenched with dew, soiled by contact with walls, and stained with mud,

the curiosity of the people of Fugier was all the more vividly excited, since the authority, beauty, and eccentricity of the fair Parisian already furnished the stock subject of their conversation. Froncine had sat up all night waiting for her mistress, a prey to horrible misgivings, so that on her return she wished to talk, but silence was enjoined upon her by a friendly gesture. I am not dead, child, said Marie. Ah, when I left Paris, I longed for emotions. And I have had them, she added, after a pause. Francine went out to order a meal, remarking to her mistress that she must be in great need of it.

Oh, no, said Mademoiselle de Vernaille, but a bath, a bath, the toilet before everything else. It was with no small degree of astonishment that Francine heard her mistress asking for the most fashionable and elegant dresses that had been packed for her. After her breakfast, Marie made her toilette with all the minute care and attention that a woman devotes to this most important operation when she is to appear before the eyes of her beloved in the midst of a ballroom. Francine could not account in any way for her mistress's mocking gaiety. There was none of the joy of love in it. No woman can make a mistake as to that expression. There was an ill-omened and concentrated malice about her.

With her own hands, Marie arranged the curtains about the windows, through which her eyes beheld a magnificent view. Then she drew the sofa nearer to the fire, set it in a light favorable to her face, and bade Francine bring flowers so as to impart a festival appearance to the room. When Francine had brought the flowers, Marie superintended her arrangement of them to the best advantage. After casting a final glance of satisfaction round her apartment, she ordered Francine to send someone to demand her prisoner of the commandant.

She lay back luxuriously upon the sofa, partly to rest herself and partly in order to assume a graceful and languid pose, which in certain women exerts an irisughtsure resistible fascination. There was an indolent softness about her. The tips of her feet scarcely escaped from beneath the folds of her dress in a provoking manner. The negligence of her attitude, the bend of her neck, everything down to the curves of her slender fingers that drooped over a cushion like the bells of a spray of jessamine, was in unison with her glances and possessed an attractive influence. She burned purrs. perfumes so that the air was permeated with the sweet fragrance that acts so powerfully on the nerves and frequently prepares the way for conquests which women desire to make without any advance on their part

a few minutes later the heavy tread of the old commandant was heard in the antechamber well commandant where is my captive i have just ordered out a picket of a dozen men to shoot him as he was taken with arms in his hands you have disposed of my prisoner said she Listen, Commandant, if I read your countenance rightly, there can be no great satisfaction for you in the death of a man after the engagement is over. Very well, then, give me back my she-wan and grant him a reprieve. I will take the responsibility upon myself. I must inform you that this aristocrat has become indispensable to me, and with his cooperation, our projects will be a close. Moreover, it would be as ridiculous to shoot this amateur showan as to fire on a balloon, for the prick of a pin is all that is needed to bring about its entire collapse.

Leave butchery to the aristocrats, for heaven's sake, republics should show themselves to be magnanimous. Would not you yourself have granted an amnesty to the victims at Kiberon and to many others? now then send your dozen men to make the rounds and come and dine with me and my prisoner there's only an hour of daylight left and you see she added smiling that if you delay my toilette will lose all its effect but mademoiselle said the astonished commandant well what is it i understand you come the count will not escape you sooner or later the portly butterfly yonder will scorch himself beneath the fire of your platoons the commandant slightly shrugged his shoulders like a man who is compelled to submit against his own judgment to the whims of a pretty woman he returned in the space of half an hour followed by the comte de beauvain mademoiselle de vernois made as though her two guests had taken her by surprise and appeared to be in some confusion at being detected by the count in so careless an attitude But when she had seen from that gentleman's eyes that a first effect had been produced upon him, she rose and gave her whole attention to her visitors with perfect politeness and grace.

There was nothing either constrained or studied in her attitude, in her smile, her voice, or her manner, nothing that betrayed a premeditated design. Everything about her was in agreement. There was no touch of exaggeration which could, give an impression that she was assuming the manners of the world with which she was not familiar. When the Royalist and the Republican were both seated, she looked at the Count with an expression of severity. The nobleman understood women sufficiently well to know that the affront that he had offered

to her was like to be his own death warrant. But in spite of this misgiving and without showing, either melancholy or levity, he behaved like a man who did not look for such a sudden catastrophe. It soon appeared to him that there was something ridiculous about fearing death in the presence of a pretty woman, and Marie's severe looks had put some ideas into his head. thought he who knows whether a count's coronet still to be had will not please her better than the coronet of a marquis which has been lost montaurent is as hard as a nail while i and he looked complacently at himself at any rate if i save my life that is the least that may come of it these diplomatic reflections were all to no purpose the ponchon which the count intended to feign for mademoiselle de verneau became a violent fancy which that dangerous being was pleased to encourage

you are my prisoner count she said and i have the right to dispose of you your execution will only take place with my consent and i have too much curiosity to allow you to be shot at once and suppose that i maintain an obstinate silence he answered merrily with an honest woman perhaps you might but with a light one come now count that is impossible these words full of bitter irony were hissed at him from so sharp a whistle to quote sully's remark concerning the Duchess of Beaufort, that the astonished noble could find nothing better to do than to gaze at his cruel opponent. Stay, she went on with a satirical smile. Not to gainsay you, I will be a good girl like one of those creatures. Here is your gun to begin with, and she held out his weapon to him with mock immobility.

on the faith of a gentleman mademoiselle you are doing ah she broke in i have had enough of the faith of a gentleman on that security i set foot in the vivitierre your chief swore that i and mine should be in safety what infamy exclaimed ullo with a scowl it is the count here who is to blame she said, said, addressing Ulloe and indicating the noble. The gah certainly intended to keep his word, but this gentleman put some slander or other in circulation, which confirmed the stories which it had pleased Charette's Philly to imagine about me. Mademoiselle, said the Count in dire distress with the axe hanging over him, I will swear that I said nothing but the truth.

And what did you say? That you had been the— Speak out, the mistress? Of the Marquis of Le Nancourt, the present Duke, and a friend of mine, the Count made answer. Now I might let you go to your death, said Marie, who was apparently unmoved by the Count's circumstantial accusation. The indifference, real or feigned, with which she regarded its opprobrium, amazed the Count. But, she continued, laughing, you can dismiss forever the ominous vision of those leaden pellets,

for you have no more given offence to me than to that friend of yours to whom you are pleased to assign me as— Fye on you. Listen to me, Count. did you never visit my father, the Duke de Vernaille? Very well, then. Considering, doubtless, that the confidence which she was about to make was so important that Ullo must be excluded from it, Mademoiselle de Vernau beckoned the Count to her

and whispered a few words in his ear. A stifled exclamation of surprise broke from Monsieur de Beauvoir. He looked at Marie in a bewildered fashion. She was leaning quietly against the chimney-piece, and the childish simplicity of her attitude suddenly brought back the whole of the memory which she had partially called up. The Count fell on one knee.

Mademoiselle, he cried, I entreat you to grant my pardon, though I may not deserve it. I have nothing to forgive, she said. You are as irrational now in your repentance as you were in your insolent conjectures at the Vizetiere. But these mysteries are above your intelligence. Only, she added gravely, you must know this, Count, that the daughter of the Duke de Vernau has too much magnanimity not to feel a lively interest in your fortunes. Even after an insult, said the Count, with a sort of remorse.

Are there not some who dwell so high that they are above the reach of insult? I am of their number, Count. The dignity and pride in the girl's bearing, as she uttered these words, impressed her prisoner, and made this affair considerably more obscure for Ullo. The Commandant's hand traveled to his mustache, as though to turn it up at the ends, while he looked on uneasily. Mademoiselle de Vernau gave him a significant glance, as if to assure him that she was not deviating from her plan.

Now let us have some talk, she went on after a pause. Bring us some lights, Francine, my girl? Skillfully, she turned the conversation on the table. times, which in the space of so few years, had come to be the Ancien regime. She carried the Count back to those days so thoroughly by the keenness of her observations and the vivid pictures she called up. She gave him so many opportunities of displaying his wit, by conducting her own replies with dexterous and gracious tact, that the Count ended, by making the discovery that never before

had he been so agreeable. He grew young again at the thought and endeavored to communicate his own good opinion of himself to this attractive young person. The mischievous girl amused herself by trying all her arts of coquetry upon the count, doing this all the more dexterously, because, for her, it was only a game. Sometimes she led him to believe that he was making rapid progress in her regard. Sometimes she appeared to be taken aback by the warmth of her own feelings, and displayed in consequence a reserve that fascinated the Count, and which visibly helped to fan his extemporized flame.

She behaved exactly like an angler who lifts his rod from time to time to see if the fish is nibbling at the bait. The poor Count allowed himself to be caught by the insubes, by the innocent way in which his deliverers received two or three rather neatly turned compliments. Immigration, the Republic, and the Shuans were a thousand leagues away from his thoughts. Ullo sat bolt upright, motionless and pensive as the god terminus. His want of education made him totally unapt at this kind of conversation. He had a strong suspicion that the two speakers must be a very witty pair, but the efforts of his own intellect were confined to ascertaining that their ambiguous words contained no plotting against the Republic.

Monterein, mademoiselle, the Count was saying, is well-born and well-bred, he is a pretty fellow enough, but he understands nothing of gallantry. He is too young to have seen Versailles. His education has been deficient. He does not play off one shrewd turn with another. He gives a stab with the knife instead. He can fall violently in love, but he will never attain to that fine flower of manner which distinguished Lozanne,

Ademar, Coynier, and so many others. He has no idea of the agreeable art art of saying to women those pretty nothings which are better suited to them after all than outbursts of passion which they very soon find wearisome yes although he may have made conquests he has neither grace nor ease of manner i saw that clearly marie replied ah said the count to himself there was a note in her voice and a look that shows that it will not be long before I am on the best of terms with her, and faith I will believe anything she wishes me to believe in order to be hers. Dinner was served. He offered his arm. Mademoiselle de Verneoy did her part, as hostess, with a politeness and tact

which could only have been acquired by an education received in the exclusive life of a court. Leave us, she said to Ullo as they left the table. He is afraid of you. While if I am left alone with him I shall very soon learn everything that I wish to know, he has reached the point when a man tells me everything that he thinks and sees things only through my eyes. And after that? asked the commandant, who seemed thus to

reassert his claim to the prisoner. Oh, he will go free, she said, free as the heir. But he was taken with arms in his hands. No, he was not, said she, for I had disarmed him. Adjusting sophistry such as women love to oppose to sound but arbitrary reasoning. Count, she said as she came in again, I have just obtained. your freedom but nothing for nothing she went on smiling and turning her head questioningly to one side ask everything of me that you will even my name and my honor he cried in his intoxication i lay it all at your feet and he came near to seize her hand in his endeavor to impose his desires upon her as gratitude but mademoiselle de vernon

was not a girl to make a mistake of this kind. So while she smiled upon this new lover so as to give him hope, will you make me repent of my confidence in you, she said, drawing back a step or two. A girl's imagination runs faster than a woman's, he answered, laughing. A girl has more to lose than a woman. If one carries a treasure, one must needs be suspicious. Let us leave this kind of talk, she answered, and speak seriously. You are giving a ball at St. James.

I have heard that you have established your magazines there and your arsenals and made it the seat of your government. When is the ball? Tomorrow night. It will not astonish. you, sir, that a slandered woman should wish, with feminine persistency, to obtain a signal reparation for the insults to which she has been subjected, and this in the presence of those who witnessed them. So, I will go to your ball. What I ask of you is to grant me your protection from the moment

of my arrival to the moment of my departure. I do not want your word for. it, she said, seeing that he laid his hand on his heart, I hold vows in abhorrence. They seem to me too like precautions. Simply tell me that you undertake to secure me against any infamous and criminal attempts upon my person. Promise to repair your own error by giving out everywhere that I am really the daughter of the Duke de Vernau, keeping silence at the sands. same time about the misfortunes which I owe to the lack of a father's protecting care,

and then we shall be quit. Can a couple of hours' protection extended to a woman in a ballroom be too heavy a ransom? Come, come, you are not worth a penny more than that. And a smile deprived her words of any bitterness. What will you demand for my gun? laughed the Count. Oh, more than I do for you yourself. What is it?

Secrecy. Believe me, Beaufort, only a woman can read another woman. I am positive that if you breathe a word of this, I may lose my life on the way thither. One or two balls yesterday warned me of the risks which I must encounter on the journey. Now, that lady is as expert with a rifle as she is dexterous in assisting at the toilet. No waiting woman ever undressed me so quickly. Pray manage things so that I may have nothing of that kind to fear at the ball. You will be under my protection, the Count replied proudly.

But perhaps it is for Montalant's sake that you are coming to St. James? You wish to know more than I do myself, she said, laughing. You must go now, she added after a pause. I myself will be your conductor until you are out of the town, for you have made the war one of cannibals here. But you take some interest in me, cried the Count. Ah, mademoiselle, allow me to hope that you will not be insensible to my friendship, for I must be content with that, must I not? He added, with the air of a coxcomb. Come now, conjurer, she said with the blithe expression that a woman can assume

when she makes an admission that neither betrays her real feelings nor compromises her dignity. She put on her pelisse and went with the count as far as the Nido Croc. when they reached the beginning of the footpath she said maintain an absolute reserve sir even with the marquis and she laid a finger on her lips the count emboldened by mademoiselle de vernaud's graciousness took her hand she suffered him to do so like one who grants a great privilege and he kissed it tenderly Oh, Mademoiselle, he cried when he saw that he was quite out of danger. You can reckon upon me through life and death. Since I owe you a debt of gratitude almost as great as that which I owe to my own mother, it will be very hard to feel nothing more than esteem for you.

He sprang down the pathway. Marie watched him as he scaled the crags of sensual peace, and nodded approvingly as she murmured to herself. That fine fellow yonder has paid me for his life more than the worth of his life. I could make him my creature at a very small cost. A creature and a creator. There lies the whole difference between one man and another.

She went no further with her thought. She gave a despairing look at the sky above her, and slowly returned to St. Le'Leon's gate, where Ullo and Quentin were waiting for her. Yet two more days, she cried, then she checked herself, seeing that they were not alone, and whispered the rest in Ullo's ears, and he shall drop down beneath your fire.

With a peculiar jocose expression not easy to describe, the commandant suddenly drew back a step and looked at the girl before him. There was not a shadow of remorse in her face or bearing. It is wonderful how women, generally speaking, never reason over their most blameworthy actions. They are led entirely by their feelings. There is a kind of sincerity in their very dissimulation, and only among women is crime dissociated from baseness, for, for the most part, they themselves do not know how the thing has come about. I am going to St. James to a ball given by the Schoens, and— But that is five leagues away from here, Quarantin put in, shall I ask you.

court you? You are very much taken up, said she, with something that I never think about at all. That is to say, yourself. The contempt for Quarantin, which Marie had displayed, was eminently gratifying to Ullo, who made his peculiar grimace as he watched her disappear in the direction of Saint-Leonar. Corantin's eyes likewise followed her. But from his face it was evident that he suppressed the consciousness of a superior power which he thought to exercise over this charming woman's destiny.

He meant so to control her by means of her passions that one day she should be his. End of Section 20 of the Schoens by Honorary de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marriage. this librivox recording is in the public domain read by bruce perry chapter three e mademoiselle de verneux on her return betook herself at once to considering her ball dress francine quite accustomed to obedience though she did not understand the ends which her mistress had in view ransacked the trunks and suggested a greek costume everything at that time took its tone from ancient greece this toilette which received marie's approval could be packed in a trunk that could easily be carried i am setting out on a wild errand francine child think whether you would rather stay here or go with me stay here cried froncine if i did who would dress you where have you put the glove that i gave you this morning here it is so a bit of green ribbon upon it, and before all things do not forget to take some money. But when she saw that Francine had newly coined money in her hand, she exclaimed,

That in itself would be the death of us. Send Jeremiah to arouse Quarantin. No, the villain would follow us. It would be better to send to the Commandant to ask him for some crowns of six francs each for me. Marie thought of everything down to the smallest detail with a woman's foresight. While Francine completed the preparations for her incomprehensible journey, she occupied herself with trying to imitate the cry of the screech owl and succeeded in imitating Marchauteer's signal in a manner that baffled detection.

At midnight, she passed out through St. Leonard's gate, reached the narrow footpath along the Nido Croc, and, with Francine following her, she ventured across the Dale of Ghibeari. She walked with a firm step, for so strong a will, as that which stirred within her, invests the body and its movements with an indescribable quality of power. For women, the problem how to leave a ballroom without catching a cold is of no small importance, but when their hearts are once possessed by passion, their frames might be made of iron. Even a bold man would have hesitated over such an enterprise.

But scarcely had Mademoiselle de Vernaud begun to feel the attractions of the prospect when its dangers became so many temptations for her. You are setting out without a prayer for God's protection, said Francine, who had turned to look at St. Leonard's spire. The devout Breton girl stopped, clasped her hands, and set her Ave to St. Anne of Oray, beseeching her to prosper their journey while her mistress stood waiting, deep in thought, gazing alternately at the childlike attitude of her maid, who was praying fervently, and at the effects of the misty moonlight, as it fell over the carved stonework about the church,

giving to the granite the look of delicate filigree, In no long time the two women reached Galop Chopin's cottage. Light as were the sounds of their footsteps, they aroused one of the huge dogs that in Brittany are entrusted with the safekeeping of the door, a simple wooden latch being the only fastening in vogue. The dog made a rush at the two strangers, and his bark became so furious that they were compelled to retreat a few paces and to call for help.

Nothing stirred, however. Mademoiselle Verneau gave the cry of the screech all, and then the rusty hinges of the cabin door creaked loudly all at once, and Gallop Chopin, who had risen in haste, showed his gloomy countenance. Marie held out Montereau's glove for the inspection of the warden of Fugier. I must go to St. James at once, she said. The Comte de Beauvon told me that I should find a guide and protector in you. So, find two donkeys for us to ride, my worthy Gallup-Chopin,

and prepare to come with us yourself. Time is valuable, for if we do not reach St. James before to-morrow evening, we shall neither see the gar nor the ball. Galop Chopin, utterly amazed, took the glove and turned it over and over, then he lighted a candle made of resin about the thickness of the little finger and the colour of gingerbread this commodity had been imported from the north of europe and like everything else in this strange land of brittany plainly showed the prevailing ignorance of the most elementary principles of commerce when galopjeup-shopin had seen the green ribbon taken a look at mademoiselle de vernois scratched his ear and emptied a picture of cider after offering a glass to the fair lady, he left her seated upon the bench of polished chestnut wood

before the table, and went in search of two donkeys. The violet rays of the outlandish candle were hardly strong enough to outshine the fitful moonlight that gave vague outlines in dots of light to the dark hues of the furniture and to the floor of the smoke-begrimed hut. The little urchin had raised his pretty, wondering face, and up above his fair curls appeared the heads of two cows, their pink noses and great eyes shone through the holes in the wall of the bier. The big dog, whose head was by no means the least intelligent one in this family, seemed to contemplate the two strangers with the curiosity quite as great as that displayed by the child.

a painter would have dwelt admiringly on the effect of this night-piece but marie was not very eager to enter into conversation with the spectre like barbette who was now sitting up in bed and had begun to open her eyes very wide with recognition marie went out to avoid the pestiferous atmosphere of the hovel and to escape the questions which the becannier was about to ask she tripped lightly up the flight of stairs cut in the rock which over hung gallop chopin's cottage and thence admired the endless detail of the landscape before her which underwent a change at every step whether backwards or forwards towards the crests of the hills or down to the depths of the valleys moonlight was spreading like a luminous mist far and wide over the valley of the coenon a woman who carried a burden of slighted love in her heart could not but experience the feeling of melancholy that this soft light produces in the soul a light that lent fantastic outlines to the mountain forms and traced out the lines of the streams in strange pale tints the silence was broken just then by the bray of the asses marie hurried down to the shuans cabin's cabin and they set out at once. Galop Chopin, armed with a double-barrelled fowling piece,

wore a shaggy goat-skin, which gave him the appearance of a Robinson Crusoe. His wrinkled and blotched countenance was barely visible beneath his huge hat, an article of dress to which the peasants still cling, in pride at having obtained, after all their long ages of serfdom, a decoration sacred to the head.

heads of their lords in times of yore. There was something patriarchal about the costume, attitude, and form of their guide and protector. The whole nocturnal procession resembled the picture of the flight into Egypt which we owe to the somber brush of Rembrandt. Galop Chopin industriously avoided the highway and led the two women through the vast labyrinth made by cross-country roads in Brittany. By this time, Mademoiselle de Vernaud understood the tactics of the Shuans in war. As she herself went over these tracks, she could form a more accurate notion of the nature of the country which had appeared so enchanting to her when she viewed it from the heights,

a country presenting dangers and well-nigh hopeless difficulties which must be experienced before any idea can be formed concerning them. The peasants, from time immemorial, have raised a bank of earth about each field, forming a flat-topped ridge, six feet in height, with beeches, oaks, and chestnut trees growing upon the summit. The ridge or mound planted in this wise is called a hedge, the kind of hedge they have in Normandy, and as the long branches of the trees which grow upon it almost always project across the road,

they make a great arbor overhead. The roads themselves, shut in by clay banks in this melancholy way, are not unlike the moats of fortresses, and whenever the granite, which is nearly always just beneath the surface in these districts, does not form an uneven natural pavement, the ways become so excessively heavy that the lightest cart can only travel over them with the help of two yoke of oxen and a couple of horses. They are small horses, it is true, but generally strong.

So chronic is the swampy state of the roads that, by dint of use and won't, a path called a rote has been beaten out for foot passengers along the side of the hedge in each field. The necessary transition from one field to another is effected by climbing a few steps cut in the bank sides, which are often slippery in wet weather. The travellers found other obstacles in abundance

to be surmounted in these winding lanes. Each separate piece of land, fortified in the way that has been described, possesses a gateway some ten feet wide, which is barred across by a contrivance called an echelier in the west. The echelier is either a trunk or a limb of a tree with a hole drilled through one end of it so that it can be set on another shapeless log of wood, which serves, as it were, for a handle or pivot upon which the first piece is turned. The thick end of the echelier is so arranged as to project some distance behind this pivot,

so that it can carry a heavy weight as a counterpoise, a device that enables a child to open and close this curious rustic gate. The further end of the tree trunk lies in a hollow fashioned on the inner side of the bank itself. Sometimes the peasants thriftily dispense with the stone counterpoise. and let the thick end of the trunk or limb of the tree hang further over instead. This kind of barrier varies with the taste of every farmer. Very often the echelier consists of one single branch of a tree with either end ensconced in the earth of the bank.

Often again it looks like a square gate built up of many branches set at intervals as if the rungs of the ladder had been arranged crows. crosswise. This kind of gate turns about like an echelier and the other end moves upon a little revolving disk. These hedges and echeliers make the land look like a vast chessboard. Each field is a separate and distinct enclosure like a fortress, and each, like a fortress, is protected by a rampart. The gateways are readily defended, and and, when stormed, afford a conquest fraught with many perils. The Breton has a fancy that fallow land is made fertile by growing huge bushes of broom upon

it. So he encourages this shrub, which thrives upon the treatment it receives to such an extent that it soon reaches the height of a man. This superstition is not unworthy of a population capable of depositing their heapings. heaps of manure on the highest points of their fold yards, and in consequence one-fourth of the whole area of the land is covered with thickets of broom, affording hiding-places without number for ambuscades. Scarcely a field is without its one or two old cider apple trees, whose low overhanging branches are fatal to the vegetation beneath. Imagine, therefore,

How little of the field itself is left when every hedge is planted with huge trees whose greedy roots spread out over one-fourth of the space, and you will have some idea of the system of cultivation and general appearance of the country through which Mademoiselle de Verneux was traveling. It is not clear whether a desire to avoid disputes about landmarks Or the convenient and easy custom of shutting up cattle on the land with no one to look after them brought about the construction of these redoubtable barriers, permanent obstacles which make the country impenetrable, and render a war with large bodies of troops quite impossible.

When the nature of the land has been reviewed, step by step, the hopelessness of a struggle between regular and irregular troops is abundantly evident. For 500 men can hold the country in the teeth of the troops of a kingdom. This was the whole secret of Shuwen warfare. Mademoiselle de Vernaud now understood how pressing was the necessity that the republic should stamp out rebellion rather by means of police and diplomacy than by futile efforts on the part of the military. As a matter of fact, what was it possible to effect against a people clever enough to despise the possession of their towns, while they secured the length and breadth of their land by such indestructible earthworks?

And how do otherwise then negotiate, when the whole blind force of the peasants was concentrated in a wary and audacious chief. She admired the genius of the minister who had discovered the clue to a piece in the depths of his cabinet. She thought she had gained an insight into the nature of the considerations which sway men who have ability enough to see the condition of an empire at a glance. Their actions, which in the eyes of the crowd, seem to be criminal, are but the partial manifestations of a single, vast conception. There is about such awe-inspiring minds as these an unknown power which seems to belong half to chance and half to fate.

A mysterious prophetic instinct within them, beckons them, and they rise up suddenly. The common herd misses them for. a moment from among its numbers, raises its eyes and beholds them soaring on high. These thoughts seemed to justify, nay, to exult Mademoiselle de Verneux's longings for revenge. Her hopes and the thoughts that wrought within her lent to her sufficient strength to endure the unwonted fatigues of her journey. At the boundary of every freehold, Gallop Schopen, was compelled to assist the two women

to dismount and to help them to scramble over the awkward interval, and when the rots came to an end they were obliged to mount again and venture into the miry lanes, which the approach of winter had already affected. The huge trees, the hollow ways, and the barriers in these low-lying meadows all combined to shut in a damp atmosphere that surrounded the three travelers like an icy pall. After much painful fatigue, they reached the woods of Marigny at sunrise. Their way became easier along a broad forest ride. The thick vault of branches overhead protected them from the weather, and they encountered

no more of the difficulties which had hitherto impeded them. They had scarcely gone a league through the forest when they heard a confused, far-off murmur of voices and the silvery sounds of a bell ringing less monotonously than those which are shaken by the movements of cattle. Galop Chopin hearkened to the soft sounds with keen attention. Very soon a gust of the breeze bore the words of a psalm to his ear. This seemed to produce a great o'clock. effect upon him, he led the weary donkeys aside into a track which took the travelers away

from the direct road to St. James, turning a deaf ear to the remonstrances of Mademoiselle Vernaud, whose uneasiness was increased by the gloomy condition of the place. Enormous blocks of granite with the strangest outlines lay to right and left of them piled one above another. Huge serpent-like roots wandered over these rocks, seeking moisture and nourishment afar for some few venerable beaches. Both sides of the road looked like the huge caves, which are famous for their stalactites. Revens and cavern mouths were hidden by festoons of ivy. The sombre green of the holly thickets mingled with the brackens and with green or grayish patches of moss. The travellers had not taken many steps along this narrow track when a most

amazing scene suddenly spread itself before Mademoiselle de Vernaud's eyes, and explained Galop Chopin's pertinacity. A kind of cove rose before them, built up of huge masses of granite forming a semicircular amphitheater, tall dark furs and golden-brown chestnut, tree grew on its irregular tears, which rose one above another as in a great circus. The winter sun seemed not so much to throw its light as to pour a flood of pale colors over everything, and autumn had spread a warm brown carpet of dry leaves everywhere. In the very center of this hall, which seemed to have had the deluge for its architect, rose three giant druidical stones, a great altar above which the banner of the church was set.

Some hundred men in fervent prayer knelt bareheaded in this enclosure, where a priest, assisted by two other ecclesiastics, was saying mass. The poverty of the sacerdotal garb, the weak voice of the priest which echoed like a murmur in space, the crowd of men filled with conviction, united by one common feeling, bending before the undecorated altar and the bare crucifix, the sylvan austerity of the temple, the hour and the place, lent this scene an appearance of simplicity, which must have characterized early Christian gatherings. Mademoiselle de Vernau stood still in admiring awe. She had never before seen or imagined anything like this mass said in the heart of the forest. This worship which persecution had driven back to its primitive conditions. This poetry of the days of yore brought into sharp contrast with the strange and wild aspects of nature.

these kneeling shawans, armed or unarmed, at once men and children, at once cruel and devout. She recollected how often she had marveled in her childhood at the poms which this very Church of Rome has made so grateful to every sense, but she had never been brought thus face to face with the thought of God alone, His cross above the altar, his altar set on the bare earth, among the autumn woods that seemed to sustain the dome of the sky above, as the garlands of carved stone crowned the archways of Gothic cathedrals. While for the myriad colors of stained glass windows, a few faint red gleams of sunlight and its duller reflections scarcely lighted up the altar, the priest, and his assistance. The men before her were a fact and not a system. This was a prayer and not a theology. But the human passions which, thus restrained for a moment, had left the harmony of this

picture undisturbed, soon reasserted themselves and brought a powerful animation into the mysterious scene. The Gospel came to an end, as Mademoiselle de Verneux, came up. She recognized, not without alarm, the Abbe Goudin in the officiating priest, and hastily screened herself from his observation behind a great fragment of granite which made a hiding-place for her. She also drew Francine quickly behind it, but in vain did she endeavor to tear Gallop Chopin away from the post which he had chosen with a view to sharing in the benefits of the ceremony. She hoped to effect an escape from the danger that threatened her when she saw

that the nature of the ground would permit her to withdraw before all the rest of the congregation. Through a large cleft in the rock, she saw the Abbe Goudin take his stand upon a block of granite which served him for a pulpit, where he began his sermon with these words. In Nomenet Patrice, Philii at Spiritus sancti. The whole congregation devotely made the sign of the cross as he spoke. My dear brethren, the Abbe then began in a loud voice. First of all, let us pray for the dead, for Jean Croixagru, Nicola Laferte,

Joseph Brouet, Francois, Sulpiscoupio, all of this parish, who died of the wounds which they received in the fight at La Pellarine and in the siege of Fugier. De Profundus. And the psalm was recited, as their custom was, by the priests and congregation, who repeated alternate verses with an enthusiasm that augured well for the success of the sermon. When the psalm for the dead was over, the Abbe Goudin went on again,

in tones that grew more and more vehement, for the old Jesuit. was well aware that an emphatic style of address was the most convincing form of argument by which to persuade his uncivilized audience. These defenders of God, Christian brethren, have set example of your duty before you, said he. Are you not ashamed of what they may be saying of you in Paradise? Were it not for those blessed souls who must have been welcomed there by the saints with open arms. Our Lord might well believe that your parish is the abode of heathen Mohammedans. Do you know, my God, what is said about you in Brittany and what the

king is told of you? You do not know, is that so? I will tell you. They say, what is this? Altars have been overthrown by the blues. They have slain the rectors, they have murdered, have murdered the king and queen, they intend to take the men of every parish in Brittany to make them blues like themselves, and to send them away from their parishes to fight in far-off countries where they run the risk of dying unshriven, and therefore of spending eternity in hell. And are the Gar of Marigny, whose church has been burned down, waiting with their arms hanging by their sides?

Ah, ho! This accursed republic has sold the goods of God and of the Seniers by auction and divided the price among the blues, and in order to batten itself on money as it has battened on blood, the Republic has issued a decree which demands three livres out of every crown of six francs, just as it demands three men out of every six, and the men of Marigny. have not taken up their weapons to drive the blues out of Brittany? Aha! Paradise will be shut against them, and they will never save their souls.

That is what people are saying about you. It is your own salvation Christians that is at stake. You will save your souls in the struggle for your faith and your king. St. Anne of Oray, appeared to me herself yesterday at half-past two. She told me, then, just what I am telling you now. Thou art a priest from Marigny? Yes, madame, at your service? Very good. I am St. Anne of Oray, aunt of God, as we reckon in Brittany. I dwell at Oray, and I am come hither also to bid thee tell the gar of Marigny, that there is no hope of salvation for them if they do not take up arms.

So thou shalt refuse to absolve them from their sins unless they serve God. Thou shalt bless their guns, and those gar who shall be absolved from their sins shall never miss the blues, for their guns shall be holy. She disappeared beneath the goose-foot oak, leaving an odor of incense behind. I marked the spot. There is a beautiful wooden virgin there, set up by the rector of St. James. Moreover, the mother of Pierre Lroix, who is called Marcheter, having repaired thither in the evening to pray, has been healed of her sufferings through the good works wrought by her son. There she is, in your midst. You can see her with your own eyes,

Walking about, without help from anyone, it is a miracle. Like the resurrection of the Blessed Marie-Lambricain wrought to prove to you that God will never forsake the cause of the Bretons, so long as they fight for His servants and for the King. So, dear brethren, if you would save your souls and show yourselves to be defenders of our Lord the King, You ought to obey him who has been sent to you by the king, and whom we call the Gah, in everything that he may command. Then you will no longer be like heathen Mohammedans, and you will be found with all the Gah of all Brittany beneath the banner of God. You can take back again out of the blues pockets all the money that they have stolen, for since your fields lie unsewn while you go out to war, our Lord and the King make over to you all the spoils of your enemies.

Christians, shall it be said of you that the Gar of Marigny lay behind the Gar of Marlion, the gar of Saint-Georges, of Vitre or of Antre, who are all in the service of God and the King, will you allow them to, to take everything? Will you look on like heretics with folded arms, while so many Bretons are saving their own souls while they save their king? For me ye shall give up all things, says the gospel. Have not we ourselves given up our tithes already? Give up everything to wage this sacred war. You shall be as the Maccabees. You will be pardoned. At the last, you will find in your midst your rectors and your curays, and the victory will be yours. Christians give heed to this, said he as he drew to an end. Today is the only day on which we have the power of blessing your guns.

Those who do not take advantage of this favor will never find the blessed one of Allray so merciful at another time, and she will not hear them again, as she did in the last war. This sermon, supported by the thunders of a powerful voice and by manifold gesticulations, which bathed the orator in perspiration, produced but little apparent effect. The peasants stood motionless as statues with their eyes fixed on the speaker, but Mademoiselle de Verneux soon saw clearly that this universal attitude was the result of a spell which the Abbe exerted over the crowd. Like all great actors, he had swayed his audience as one man by appealing to their passions

and to their interests. Was he not absolving them beforehand for any excesses that they might commit? Had he not severed the few bonds that restrained these rough natures and that kept them obedient to the precepts of religion and of social order. He had prostituted the priestly office to the uses of political intrigue. But in those revolutionary times, everyone used such weapons as he possessed in the interests of his party, and the peace-bringing cross of Christ became an instrument of war, as did the plough share that produces man's daily bread.

Mademoiselle de Verneau saw no one who could understand her thoughts, so she turned to look at Francine, and was not a little amazed to find that her maid was sharing in the general enthusiasm. She was devoutly telling her beads on Galop Chopin's rosary he no doubt had made it over to her during the course of the sermon. Francine, she murmured, Are you also afraid of being a heathen Mohammedan? Oh, Mademoiselle, answered the Breton girl. Only look at Pierre's mother over yonder.

She is walking. There was such deep conviction in Francine's attitude that Marie understood the secret spell of the sermon, the influence exercised by the clergy in the country, and the tremendous power of the scene which was just about to begin. Those peasants who stood nearest went up, one by one, kneeling as they offered their guns to the preacher who laid them down upon the altar.

Galop Chopin lost no time in presenting himself with his old duck gun. The three priests chanted the hymn, Vaini Creator, while the officiating priest enveloped the instruments of death in a thick cloud of bluish smoke, describing a pattern of intertwining lines. When the light wind had borne away the fumes of incense, the guns were given out again in order. Each man knelt to receive his weapon from the hands of the priests, who recited a prayer in Latin as they returned it to him. When every armed man had returned to his place, the intense enthusiasm, hitherto mute, which possessed the congregation broke out in a tremendous yet touching manner.

Dominé Salveum fact regam. This was the prayer that the preacher thundered forth in an echoing voice, and which was sung twice through with vehement excitement. There was something wild and warlike about the sounds of their voices. The two notes of the word regam, which the peasants readily comprehended, were taken with such passionate force, that Mademoiselle de Vernaud could not prevent her thoughts from straying with emotion to the exiled family of Urbans. These recollections awoke others of her own past life.

Her memory brought back festive scenes at the court where she herself had shone conspicuous, a court now scattered abroad. The form of the Marquis glided into her musings. She forgot the picture before her eyes. eyes, and with the sudden transition of thought natural to women's minds, her scheme of vengeance recurred to her, a scheme for which she was about to risk her life, and yet a single glance might bring it to naught. She meditated how to appear at her best at this supreme moment of her career, and remembered

that she had no ornaments with which to deck her hair for this ball. A spray of holly at once attracted her attention, and the thought of a wreath of its curling leaves and scarlet berries carried her away. Aha, said Gallop Chopin, wagging his head to show his satisfaction. My gun may hang fire when I am after birds, but when I am after the blues, never. Marie looked more closely at her guide's countenance and saw that it was on the same pattern as all the others which she had just seen. There seemed to be fewer ideas expressed in the old Shuan's face than in that of a child. His cheeks and forehead were puckered with unconcealed joy as he looked at his gun.

Religious conviction had infused an element of fanaticism in. to his elation, so that, for a moment, the worst propensities of civilization seemed to be manifested in his barbarous features. They very soon reached a village, that is to say, a collection of four or five dwellings, like Galop Chopin's own. Mademoiselle de Verneux was finishing a breakfast composed solely of bread and butter and dairy produce, the newly recruited Shuans arrived. The rector headed these irregular troops, bearing in his hands a rough crucifix, transformed

into a banner, and followed by Agar, who was full of pride at assisting to carry the parish standard. Mademoiselle de Vernaut, perforce, found herself included in this detachment, which was on its way to St. James, and consequently protected from dangers of all kinds. For Gallop Chopin had been happily inspired to make an indiscreet avowal to the leader of the troop, how that the pretty Garth whom he was escorting, was a good friend to the GAR.

End of Section 20. Section 21 of the Schoens by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, read by Bruce Peary. Chapter 3F. It was growing towards sunset when the three travelers reached St. James, a little town which owes its name to the English by whom it was built in the 14th century during the time of their rule in Brittany. Before they entered it, Mademoiselle de Vernaud beheld a curious scene of warfare to which she gave but little heed, for she was afraid that some of her

enemies might recognize her, and the fear quickened her pace. Five or six thousand peasants were bivouacking in a field. There was no suggestion of war about their costumes, which were not unlike those of the requisitionaries on La Pellarine. On the contrary, the disorderly assemblage of men resembled a huge hiring fair. A careful scrutiny was required to ascertain whether or no the Breton's carried arms at all, for their guns were almost hidden by the goatskins of various patterns that they wore, and in many cases the most conspicuous weapons were the scythe's, with which they had

replaced the muskets that had been distributed among them. Some were eating and drinking, some were brawling and fighting, but the greater number were lying asleep upon the ground. There was no sign or trace of order or of discipline. An officer in a red uniform attracted Mademoiselle de Verneux's attention. She thought that he must belong to the English army. Further on two other officers appeared to be bent on teaching a few of the shewans, who seemed to be quicker-witted than their fellows, how to handle a couple of cannon, of which the whole artillery of the future royalist army appeared to consist.

The gar from Marigny were recognized by their standard and welcomed with uproarious yells. Under cover of the bustle made in the camp by the arrival of the troop and its rectors, Mademoiselle de Vernaut was able to make her way across it and into the town in safety. He reached an unpretending inn at no great distance from the house where the ball was given. The town was so crowded with people that, after the greatest imaginable difficulty, she could only succeed in obtaining a wretched little room. When she had taken possession of it, and Galop Chopin had given over the box that carried her mistress's costume into Francine's keeping, he stood waiting and hesitating in a manner

that cannot be described. At any other time, Mademoiselle de Vernaut would have been diverted by the spectacle of the Breton peasant out of his own parish. But now she broke the charm by drawing from her purse four crowns of six francs each, which she handed over to him. Take them, said she to Gallup-Shopein, and if you wish to oblige me, you will return at once to Fugier, without. tasting cider or passing through the camp.

The shewain, in amazement at such open-handedness, was looking alternately at Mademoiselle de Vernau, and at the four crowns which she had received, but she dismissed him with a wave of the hand, and he vanished. How can you send him away, mademoiselle? asked Francine. Did you not see how the town is surrounded? How are we to leave it, and who will protect you, here.

Have you not a protector of your own?" said Mademoiselle de Vernaud, with a low, mocking whistle after the manner of Macheteer whose ways she tried to mimic. Francine blushed and smiled sadly at her mistress's high spirits. But where is your protector, she said. Mademoisel de Vernaud rapidly drew out her dagger and showed it to the frightened Breton maid, who sank down into a chair and clasped her hands. "'What have you come to look for here, Marie?' she exclaimed. There was a note of entreaty in her voice which called for no response.

Mademoiselle de Vernaut was absorbed in bending and twisting the sprays of holly which she had gathered. She said, i am not sure that the holly will look very pretty in my hair only a face as radiant as mine could bear such a sombre adornment what do you think such remarks as this made many times in the course of her toilette showed that her mind was absolutely free from preoccupation anyone who had overheard this strange girl would hardly have believed in the gravity of the crisis in which she would have believed in the gravity of the crisis in which she would have been a woman who had overheard this strange girl would hardly have believed in the gravity of the crisis in which she was risking her life. A somewhat short gown of Indian muslin revealed the delicate outlines of her figure to which it clung like damp linen.

Over this she wore a red overskirt with innumerable drooping folds that fell gradually lower and lower towards one side, thus preserving the graceful outlines of the Greek Khitan. The sensuous beauty of this garb of a peasant priestess made the costume, a costume which the fashion of those days permitted women to wear, less indelicate. And as a further palliation, Marie wound gauze about her white shoulders which the low lines of the tunic had left too bare. She knotted up the long locks of her hair at the back of her head in the irregular flattened cone that, by apparently adding length to the head, lends such charm to the faces of classical statues, reserving for her forehead a few long curls that fell on either side of her face in shining

coils. Thus robed, and with her hair arranged thus, her resemblance to the greatest masterpieces of the Greek chisel was complete. She saw how every detail in the disposition of her hair set up. off the loveliness of her face, with a smile that denoted her approval. Then she crowned herself with the wreath of holly which she had twisted. The red color of her tunic was repeated in her hair with the happiest effect by the thick clusters of scarlet berries.

As she twisted back a few of the leaves so as to secure a fanciful contrast between their upper and undersides, Mademoiselle de Verneux flung a glance over herself in the mirror, criticizing the general effect of her toilette. I am hideous to-night, she exclaimed, as though she had been surrounded by flatterers. I look like a statue of liberty. She was careful to set her dagger in her corset, leaving the ruby ornamented hilt protruding, so that the crimson gleams might draw the eye to the beauties which her rival had so unworthily profaned. Francine could not reconcile herself to parting from her mistress.

When she was quite ready to start, the maid was ready to accompany her, finding an excuse in the difficulties that women necessarily encounter in going to a dance in a little town in Lower Brittany. would she not be required to uncloke mademoiselle de verneux to take off the overshoes which the filthy condition of the streets had rendered imperative albeit sand had been laid down and to remove the gau's veil that her mistress had wound about her head so as to screen herself from the curious eyes of the shoeans who had been drawn by curiosity to surround the house where the dance was taking place the crowd was so dense that they went between two hedges of shawans francine no longer tried to keep her mistress back after rendering the final necessary assistance demanded by a toilette in which unruffled freshness was a first requirement she stayed on in the courtyard she could not leave her mistress to the chances of fate without being at hand to fly to her assistance for the poor breton maid foresaw nothing but calamities A strange scene was taking place in Montaurenton's room at the time of Marie's arrival at the festival. The young Marquis was almost dressed and was dawning the broad red ribbon that was to mark

him out as the most important personage among those assembled, when the Abbe Goudin came in with an anxious face. Come quickly, my lord Marquis, said he, you alone can calm the storm. that has arisen among the chiefs. I don't know what it is all about. They are talking of withdrawing from the king's service. It is that devil of a refoel who is the cause of the trouble, I think. There's always some piece of foolery at the bottom of these disputes.

They say that Madame de Guas upbraided him for coming to the ball in an unsuitable dress. The woman must be crazy, exclaimed the Marquis. to expect. The Chevalier de Vissar, the Abbe, went on, interrupting him, retorted that if you had given him the money, promised to him in the king's name, Enough, enough, Abbe, now I understand everything. The scene had been got up beforehand, had it not? And you are their spokesman? I, my lord Marquis, the Abbe, broke in with yet another interpretation.

I will support you vigorously. I hope that you will believe, in fairness to me, that the prospect of the re-establishment of the altar throughout France, and of the restoration of the king to the throne of his forefathers, holds out far greater inducements to my humble efforts than that Archbishop of Wrenne which you—the Abbe dared not go any further. For at these words a bitter smile stole over the lips of of the Marquis. But the young chief at once suppressed the gloomy reflections that occurred to him.

With austere brows he followed the Abbe Goudin into a large room that echoed with vehement clamor. I own the authority of no one present. Riefoel was crying out. He flung fiery glances on those about him, and his hand was finding the way to the hilt of his saber. Do you own the authority of common sense? asked the Marquis, coolly. The young Chevalier de Vissar,

better known by his patronymic of Riefoel, kept silence in the presence of the general of the Catholic armies. What is the matter now, gentlemen, the young chief demanded as he scanned the faces about him? The matter, my Lord Markie's, he, replied a notorious smuggler, embarrassed at first, like a man of the people who has long been

overawed by the prestige of a great lord, but who loses all sense of restraint the moment that the boundary line that separates the pair has been overstepped, because thenceforth he regards him as their equal. The matter is that you have come in the nick of time. I cannot talk in fine golden words, so I will put it right. roundly. I had five hundred men under me all through the last war, and since we have taken up arms again, I have managed to find, for the king's service, a thousand heads quite as hard as my own. All along, for seven years past, I have been risking my life in the good cause. I do

not blame you at all, but all work ought to be paid for. Therefore, to begin with, I wish, to be called Monsieur de Caterotreau, and I wish to be requited by the rank of Colonel. Otherwise, I shall offer my submission to the First Consul. My men and I, you see, my Lord Marquis, are always done by a cursively pressing creditor who must be satisfied. Here he is, he added, striking his stomach. Have the fiddles arrived? Montaurenton inquired of Madame de Guas in caustic tones.

But the smuggler in his brutal way had opened up to all-important a question, and these natures, as calculating as ambitious, had been too long in suspense as to their prospects in the king's service for the scene to be cut short by the young leaders scorn. The young Chevalier de Vissar, in his heat and excitement, sprang to confront Montaureen and seized his hand to prevent him from turning away. "'Take care, my Lord Marquis,' he said. You are treating too lightly men who have some claim to the gratitude of him whom you represent

here. We are aware that His Majesty has given you full power to recognize the services we have rendered, which ought to be rewarded, either in this world or in the next, for the scaffold is prepared for us daily. As for me, I am sure that the rank of Marichel de Compe— Of Colonel, you mean? No, my Lord Marquis. Cherrette made me a Colonel.

My claim to the rank I have spoken of cannot be disputed. Still, I am not urging my own claims just now. now in any way, but those of my dauntless brothers in arms, whose services stand in need of acknowledgment. Hitherto your promises and your personal guarantees have satisfied them. He lowered his voice as he added, and I must say that they are easily contented, but, and he raised his voice again, when the sun shall rise at last in the chateau of Versailles to to shine upon the happy days of the monarchy to come, will all the king's faithful servants

in France who have aided the king to recover France readily obtain his favor for their families? Will their widows receive pensions? Will their unfortunate losses of property through confiscation be made good to them? I doubt it. Therefore, my Lord Marquis, will not, in-disposed. Purs of past services be useful then. It is not that I ever shall mistrust the King himself, but I heartily mistrust those cormorants of ministers and courtiers about him, who will din a lot of trash into his ears about the

public good, the honor of France, the interests of the crown, and a hundred more such things. They will make mock, then, of the law. loyal Vondayan, or a brave schoen, because he is aged, and because the old sword that once he drew for the good cause dangles against his legs which are shrunken with sufferings. Can you blame us, Marquis? You put it admirably, Monsieur de Vizard, but you have spoken a little too soon, replied Montaureen. Listen, Marquis, said the Comte de Beauvoir in a low voice. Upon my word, Riefoel has told us some very true things.

You yourself are always sure of access to the king's ear, but the rest of us can seldom go to see our master. So I tell you, frankly, that if you do not pledge your word as a gentleman to obtain the post of grand master of the rivers and forests of France. For me, when opportunity offers, the devil take me if I will risk my neck. It is no small task that I am set to conquer Normandy for the king, so I hope to have the order for it." But there is time yet to think about that," he added, blushing.

God forbid that I should follow the example of these wretches. and worry you, you will speak to the king for me, and there is an end of it. Each of the chiefs, by some more or less ingenious device, found means to inform the marquis of the extravagant reward which he expected for his services. One modestly asked for the governorship of Brittany, another for a barony, one demanded promotion, and another a command, while one and all of them desired pensions. Well, Baron, the Marquis said, addressing Monsieur de Guenique, do you really wish for nothing? Faith, Marquis, these gentlemen have left nothing for me but the crown of France,

but I could readily manage to put up with that. gentlemen, thundered the Abbe Goudin. Consider this, that if you are so eager in the day of victory, you will spoil everything. Will not the king be compelled to make concessions to the revolutionaries? What, to the Jacobins? exclaimed the smuggler. Let the king leave that to me.

I will undertake to set my thousand men to hang them, and we shall very soon be rid of them. Monsieur de Cotterotero, said the Marquis. I see that several invited guests are arriving. We must vie with each other in assiduity and zeal, so as to determine them to take part in our sacred enterprise. You understand that the present moment is not a time to consider your demands, even if they were just.

the marquis went towards the door as he spoke as if to welcome some nobles from the neighbouring districts of whom he had caught sight but the bold smuggler intercepted him deferentially and respectfully no no my lord marquis excuse me but in seventeen ninety three the jacobins taught us too thoroughly that it is not the reaper who gets the bannock if you put your name to this scrap of paper, I will bring you fifteen hundred gar tomorrow. Otherwise, I shall treat with the first consul." The Marquis looked haughtily around and saw that the onlookers at the debate regarded the audacity and resolution of the old Freelance with no unfavorable eyes. One man only, seated in a corner, appeared to take no part whatever in what was going on, but was employed in filling a white clay pipe with his tobacco.

The contempt that he visibly showed for the orators, his unassuming manner, and the commiseration for himself which the marquis read in the man's eyes, made him look closely at this magnanimous adherent, in whom he recognized Major Briegoe. The chief went quickly up to him. and said, How about you? What do you ask for? Oh, my lord Marquis, if the king comes back again, I shall be quite satisfied. But for you, yourself? For me?

Oh, you are joking, my lord. The Marquis pressed the Breton's hard hand and spoke to Madame de Guas by whom he was standing. madame i may lose my life in this undertaking of mine before i have had time to send the king a faithful report of the catholic armies in brittany if you should see the days of the restoration do not forget either this brave fellow nor the baron du guenique there is more devotion in these two than in all the other people here he indicated the chiefs who were waiting, not without impatience, till the youthful Marquis should comply with their demands. Papers were displayed in every hand, in which, doubtless, their services in previous wars had been recorded by royalist generals, and one and all began to murmur. The Abbe Goudin, the Comte de Beauvoir, and the Baron de Gwynique were taking counsel in their midst

as to the best means of assisting the Marquis to reject such extravagant claims, for in their opinion the young leader's position was a very difficult one. There was a sarcastic light in the blue eyes of the Marquis as he suddenly gazed about him on those assembled and spoke in clear tones. Gentlemen, I do not know whether the powers which the king has vouchsafed to me are comprehensive enough to permit of my fulfilling your demands. He possibly did not foresee such zeal and such devotion as yours. You yourselves shall decide as to my duties, and perhaps I may be able to perform them. He went and returned promptly with a letter lying open in his hand, ratified by the royal signature and seal.

These are the letters patent by virtue of which you owe me obedience, said he. They empower me to govern in the king's name the provinces of Brittany, Normandy, men, and enjou, and to acknowledge the services of the officers that shall distinguish themselves in his majesty's armies. An evident thrill of satisfaction went through those assembled. The shewans came up and respectfully formed a circle about the marquis. All eyes were fixed on the king's signature when, the young chief, who was standing by the hearth, flung the letter into the fire where it was burned to ashes in a moment i will no longer command any but those who see in the king a king and not a prey for them to devour

gentlemen you are at liberty to leave me a cry of long-lived the king went up from madame de guas the abbe goudin major brygoe the Chevalier de Vizard, the Baron de Guenique, and the Comte de Beauvoir. If, in the first instance, the other chiefs wavered a moment before echoing the cry of these enthusiasts, the Marquis' noble action soon produced an effect upon them. They besought him to forget what had happened and protested that, no matter for letters patent, he should always be their leader. come let us dance cried the comte de beauvon and happen what may after all he added merrily it is better praying to god than to the saints let us fight first and by and by we shall see ah that is quite true begging your pardon baron said brigo speaking in a low voice to the staunch de guenique i have never seen a day's wage asked for in the morning

The company distributed themselves through the rooms where several people had already come together. In vain the Marquis tried to dismiss the somber expression which had wrought a change in his face. The chiefs could easily discern that the foregoing scene had left an unfortunate impression on the mind of a man who still united some of the fair illusions of youth with his devotion to the cause, And this shamed them. The assemblage composed of the most enthusiastic partisans of royalty was radiant with intoxicating joy. In the remote parts of a rebellious province, they had never had an opportunity of forming just

opinions as to the events of the revolution, and had to take the most visionary assumptions for solid realities. Their courage had been stimulated by Montaurent's bold initial measures, by his fortune and ability, and by the name he bore, all of which had combined to cause that most perilous form of intoxication, the intoxication of politics, which is only abated after torrents of blood have been shed, and for the most part, shed in vain. The revolution was only a passing disturbance in France for all those who were present, and for them nothing appeared to be changed. The districts about them held to the House of Bourbon. So complete was the domination of the Royalists that four years previously

Osh had brought about an armistice rather than a peace. The nobles, therefore, for held the revolutionaries very cheap. They took Bonaparte for a Marseau who had had better luck than his predecessor. And the ladies prepared to dance in high spirits. Only a few of the chiefs who had met the blues in the field were aware of the real gravity of the crisis, and they knew that they should be misunderstood if they spoke of the first consul and his power to their countrymen who were behind the times. So they talked among themselves, turning indifferent eyes upon the ladies,

who avenged themselves by criticizing them to each other. Madame de Guas, who appeared to be doing the honors of the ball, tried to distract the attention of the ladies from their impatience by retailing conventional flatteries to each other. in turn. The harsh sounds of the tuning of the instruments were already audible when Madame Du Guas saw the Marquis with a trace of melancholy still about his face. She hurried to him and said, I hope you are not depressed by the scene you have had with those boors. It is a very commonplace occurrence. She received no reply. The Marquis was absorbed in his musings.

He thought that he heard some of the arguments that Marie had urged upon him in her prophetic tones among these very chiefs at the Vivetier when she had tried to induce him to abandon the struggle of kings against peoples. But he had too much loftiness of soul, too much pride, and possibly too strong a belief in the work that he had begun, to forsaken. it now. And he resolved, at that moment, to carry it on with a stout heart in spite of obstacles. He raised his head again proudly, and the meaning of Madame de Guas' words only then reached him. You are at Fugier, of course, she was saying with a bitterness that betrayed the

futility of the attempts she had made to divert his mind. Ah, my lord, I would give all the light in me to put her into your hands and to see you happy with her. Then why did you fire at her so dexterously? Because I wished her either dead or in your arms. Yes, I could have given my love to the Marquis of Monterein on the day when I thought that I discerned a hero in him. Today I have for him only a compassionate, friendship. He is held aloof from glory by the roving heart of an opera girl.

As to love, the Marquis answered with irony in his tones, you are quite wrong about me. If I loved that girl, madame, I should feel less desire for her, and but for you, I should even now possibly think no more of her. Here she is, said Madame de Guas suddenly. The haste with which the Marquis turned his head gave a horrible pang to the poor lady. But by the brilliant light of the candles, the slightest changes that took place in the features of the man whom she so ardently loved were easily discerned, so that she fancied she saw some hopes of her return when he turned. his face back to hers with a smile at this feminine stratagem.

"'At what are you laughing?' asked the Comte de Beauvoir. "'At a soap-bubble that has burst,' Madame de Guas replied gaily. "'If we are to believe the Marquis, he wonders today that his heart ever beat for a moment, for the creature who calls herself Mademoiselle de Vernaut. know whom I mean." The creature queried the Count with reproach in his voice. It is only right, madame, that the author of the mischief should make reparation for it, and I give you my word of honour that she really is the daughter of the Duke de Vernoy.

Which word of honour, Count? asked the Marquis in an entirely different. tone. Are we to believe you at the Vivitier or here at St. James? Mademoiselle de Verneux was announced in a loud voice. The Count hurried towards the door, offered his hand with every sign of the deepest respect to the fair newcomer, and led her through the curious throng of gazers to the Marquis and Madame Duguay. Believe nothing but the word I have given you today, he said to the astonished chief. Madame de Guas turned pale at the untoward reappearance of the girl who was standing

looking proudly about her to discover among those assembled the former guests at the Vivitier. She waited to receive her rivals constrained greeting, and without a glance at the Marquis, she allowed the count to lead her to a place of honour by the side of madame de guois to whom she bowed slightly in a patronising way the latter would not be vexed at this and her woman's instinct led her at once to assume a friendly and smiling expression for a moment mademoiselle de verneau's beauty and singular costume drew a murmur from the company When the Marquis and Madame de Guas looked at those who had been at the Vivitier, they saw that the respectful attitude of each one seemed to be sincere, and that everyone appeared to be considering how to reinstate himself in the good graces of the Parisian lady concerning whom they had been in error.

The two antagonists were now face-to-face. End of Section 21. Section 22 of the Schuens by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, read by Bruce Peary. Chapter 3G But this is witchcraft, mademoiselle. Who but you and all the world could take us by surprise like this? did you really come hither quite alone asked madame du guas quite alone mademois repeated so this evening madame you will have only me to kill

make allowances for me answered madame du guat i cannot tell you how much pleasure i feel at meeting you again i have been really overwhelmed by the recollection of the wrong i did you and I was seeking for an opportunity which should permit me to atone for it. The wrong you did me, madame, I can readily pardon, but the death of the blues whom you murdered lies heavily on my heart. I might, moreover, make some further complaint of the brusque style of your correspondence, but, after all, I forgive everything on account of the service that you have done me. Madame de Guaul lost countenance as she felt her hand clasped in that of her lovely rival,

who was smiling upon her in an offensively gracious manner. The Marquis had not stirred so far, but now he seized the Count's arm in a close grip. You have shamefully deceived me, he said. You have even involved my honor. I am no con. Amadee dupe, I will have your life for this, or you shall have mine." I am ready to afford you every explanation that you may desire, Marquis," said the Count stiffly, and they went into an adjoining room.

Even those who were least acquainted with the mystery underlying this scene began to understand the interest that it possessed, so that no one stirred when the violins gave the signal for the dancing to begin. Madame de Guas spoke, compressing her lips in a kind of fury. Mademoiselle, what service can I have had the honor of rendering of importance sufficient to deserve— Did you not enlighten me, madame, as to the Marquis de Montaurean's real nature? With what calm indifference the execrable man allowed me to go to my death, I give you. him up to you very willingly. Then what have you come here to seek? Madame de Guas asked quickly.

The esteem and the reputation of which you robbed me at the Vivitier, madame. Do not give yourself any uneasiness about anything else. Even if the Marquis were to come back to me, a lost love regained is no love at all, as you must be aware. madame de guas took mademoiselle de vernois's hand in hers with a charming caressing gesture such as women like to use among themselves especially when men are also present well dear child i am delighted that you are so sensible about it if the service which i have rendered you has been a somewhat painful one at the outset and here she pressed the hand which she held though she felt within her a wild longing to tear it in pieces when she found how delicately soft the fingers were. At any rate it shall be thorough.

Just listen to me. I know the Gar's nature well, she went on with a treacherous smile. He would have deceived you. He will not marry any woman, nor can he do so. Ah! Yes, mademoiselle. he only accepted his perilous mission in order to win the hand of Mademoiselle duxel. His majesty has promised to use all his influence to bring the marriage about.

Indeed! Mademoiselle de Vernaud added not a word more to this satirical exclamation. The young and handsome Chevalier du Vissar, eager to earn her forgiveness for the witticism which had been a signal for the insults that had followed upon it at the Vivitier, came up to her and respectfully asked for a dance. She gave him her hand, and they hastened to take their places in the same quadrille with Madame de Guas.

The powdered or frizzled hair of the other ladies and their toilettes, which recalled the bygone days of the exiled court, looked ridiculous when confronted with her. the magnificent simplicity of the elegant costume which the prevailing fashion of the day permitted Mademoiselle de Verneux to wear. The ladies condemned it aloud and inwardly envied her. The men were never weary of admiring the effect of so simple a way of dressing the hair and every detail about her dress which owed all its charm to the graceful outlines which it displayed. The Marquis and the Count returned to the ballroom and stood behind Mademoiselle

de Vernau, who did not turn her head. But even if a mirror opposite to her had not informed her of the Marquis' presence, she would have learned it from the face of Madame de Guas, whose apparent carelessness concealed but ill the anxiety with which she awaited the dispute that must sooner or later take place between the lovers. Although Montaureen was talking with the Count and with two other persons, he could overhear the chat of his neighbors and of each pair of dancers, as, in the shifting figures of the quadrille they stood for a moment where Mademoiselle de Vernaud had been. "'Oh, Mondeur, yes, madame, she came here by herself,' said one.

She must be very fearless, his partner replied. If I had dressed myself like that, I should feel as if I had no clothes on, said another lady. Oh, the costume is indelicate, her cavalier answered, but she is so pretty, and it is very becoming to her. Look at her. She dances so perfectly that it makes one blush for her. Is she not exactly like an opera girl?" The envious lady inquired. Do you think that she can have come here to treat with us in the name of the first consul?

asked the third lady. What a joke, said her partner. She will scarcely bring innocence with her as a dowry, laughed the lady. The gah turned sharply round to see the street. speaker who had ventured to make such an epigram, and Madame de Guas gave him a look which said distinctly, you see what they think of her? Madame, the Count, said, jestingly, to Marie's enemy, only ladies have so far deprived her of it. In his heart the Marquis forgave the Count for all his offenses.

He ventured to glance at his mistress. Her loveliness was a woman. enhanced, as is nearly always the case with women, by the candlelight. She reached her place. Her back was turned towards him, but as she talked with her partner, the persuasive tones of her voice reached the Marquis. The first consul is sending us very formidable ambassadors, her partner remarked. That has been said already, sir, at the Vivitier. her," she replied.

Your memory is as good as the Kings," returned the gentleman, vexed at his own awkwardness. Offenses must be clearly kept in mind if they are to be forgiven, she said quickly, and a smile released him from his predicament. Are all of us included in the amnesty? The Marquis asked. But she flung herself into the dance with childish enthusiasm. leaving him confused and with his question unanswered. She saw how he was watching her in sullen gloom, and bent her head in a coquettish manner which displayed the symmetry of her neck,

heedful at the same time to omit no movement which could reveal the wonderful grace of her form. Marie's beauty was attractive as hope and elusive as memory. To see her thus was to wish to possess her at any cost. She knew this, and the consciousness of her own beauty made her face at that moment radiant with indescribable loveliness. The Marquis felt a tempest of love, anger, and madness raging in his heart. He wrung the Count's hand and withdrew. Ah, has he gone away? asked Mademoiselle de Vernaut, when she came back to her place. The Count hurried into the adjoining room and then sprung back the gar, making a significant gesture

for the lady to whom he had extended his protection. He is mine, she said within herself as she studied the Marquis in the mirror. His face was somewhat agitated, but he was radiant with hope. She received the young chief ungraciously and did not vouchsafe a word to him, but she smiled as she turned away. She saw him so far above the others that she felt proud of her tyrannous power over him. Guided by an instinct that all women obey more or less, she determined to her to make him pay a heavy price for a few kind words, in order that he might learn their value.

When the quadrille came to an end, all the gentlemen who had been at the Vivitier came about Marie, each one endeavouring to obtain her forgiveness for his mistake by compliments more or less neatly turned. But he whom she would fain have seen at her feet kept away from her little court. He thinks that I love him yet, she said to herself, and he will not make one among those to whom I am indifferent. She declined to dance.

Then, as if the ball had been given in her honor, she went from quadrille to quadrille, leaning upon the arm of the Comte de Beauvoir, with whom it pleased her to appear to be on familiar terms, There was no one present who did not know the whole history of what had happened at the Vivitier, down to the smallest detail, thanks to Madame de Guas, who hoped by this very publicity given to the affairs of Mademoiselle de Vernaille and the Marquis to put a further hindrance to any understanding between them.

In this way the two estranged lovers became objects of general interest. Montaurey did not dare to approach his mistress. The recollection of her wrongs and the vehemence of his reawakened desires made her almost terrible in his eyes, and the young girl, though she seemed to give her attention to the dancers, was watching his face and its forced composure. It is dreadfully hot in here, she said to her cavil. I see that Monsieur de Montaurean's forehead is quite damp. Will you take me across to the other side, so that I can breathe?

This is stifling." With a movement of the head she indicated the next room, where a few card-players were sitting. The Marquis followed her, as if he had guessed at the words from the movements of her lips. He even hoped that she had left the crowd in order to see him. him once more, and with this hope the violence of his passion grew with redoubled force after the restraint that he had imposed upon himself for the last few days. It pleased Mademoiselle de Vernauie to torment the young chief. Those eyes of hers, so like velvet and so gentle for the Count, became cold and gloomy

for him if he met their gaze by chance. Montaurenton made an effort that seemed to cost him something, and said in an uncertain voice, Will you never forgive me? Love forgives nothing unless it forgives everything, she said in a dry, indifferent tone. Then as she saw him give a sudden start of joy, she added, But it must be love. She rose, took the Count's arm, and hastened to a little sitting-room adjoining the card-room. The Marquis followed her thither.

You shall hear me, he cried. You will make others imagine, sir, she replied, that I came here on your account, and not out of respect for myself. If you will not desist from this detestable persecution, I shall go. then he bethought himself of one of the wildest extravagances of the last duke of lorraine let me speak to you he entreated only for so long as i can keep this coal in my hand he stooped snatched up a firebrand from the hearth and held it in a strenuous grasp mademois de vernois reddened drew her arm quickly from the count and looked in amazement at the Marquis. The Count softly withdrew and left the lovers alone.

Nothing is so convincing in a lover as some piece of splendid folly. His mad courage had shaken Marie's very heart. You simply show me, she said, trying to compel him to drop the coal, that you would be capable of giving me over to the worst of torture. You are all for extremes. You believed the evidence of a fool and a woman's slander. You suspected that she who came to save your life was capable of betraying you. Yes, he said, smiling, I have been cruel to you, but you must forget that.

I shall never forget it. Ah, hear me, I was infamously deceived. but so many things on that wretched day all told against you. And those things were enough to extinguish your love? He hesitated a moment, with a scornful movement she rose. Marie, he said, just now, I wish to believe you and you only. Then drop that call. You must be mad. open your hand do as I wish he delighted in the feeble resistance he made to her gentle efforts he wanted to prolong the keen pleasure that he felt in the pressure of her little fingers but she succeeded at last in opening the hand she felt she could have kissed the fire had been extinguished in blood

now she said what was the use of doing that she tore little strips from her handkerchief and dressed the wound it was not very serious and the marquis easily concealed it under his glove madame du guas came into the card-room on tiptoe and furtively watched the lovers cleverly keeping herself out of their sight noting from behind them their slightest movements yet she found it difficult to guess at their talk from anything that she saw them do if everything that you have heard against me were true admit at least that now i am well avenged said marie there was a malignity in her expression that made the marquis turn pale what feeling was it that brought you here my dear boy you are a great coxcomb do you think you can insult such a woman as i am with impunity i came here for your sake and for mine she added after a pause laying her hand on the cluster of rubies at her breast and showing him the blade of the ponyard what does all this mean meditated madame du gua but you love me still marie wry went on, or at least you wish for me. And that piece of folly of yours, she said, taking the hand in hers, made it clear to me.

I am again as I had wished to be, and I shall go away happy. Those who love us we always forgive, and I am loved. I have regained the respect, the man who is for me the whole world. I could die now. You love me yet, said the Marquis. Did I say so? she replied. She laughed. She was happy, for ever since her arrival she had made the Marquis feel increasing torment.

But had I not some sacrifices to make in order to come here, for I saved Monsieur Beauvoir from death, she went on, and he, more grateful than you, has offered me his name. name and fortune in return for my protection. That idea never entered your mind. Her last words astonished the Marquis. The Count appeared to have made a fool of him. He struggled with a feeling of anger stronger than any that he had yet known

and did not reply. Ah, you are deliberating, she said with a bitter smile. Mademoiselle, your... misgivings justify mine let us go back said Mademoiselle de Vernaut who caught a glimpse of Madame de Guas robe in the card-room Marie rose but a wish to torment her rival made her hesitate a little do you want to plunge me into hell asked the Marquis taking her hand and holding it tightly where did you plunge me five days of ago. And now, now, at this moment, are you not leaving me in cruel suspense as to the sincerity

of your love? How do I know that your vengeance may not go so far as this, to take possession of my whole life so that you may sully it rather than compass my death? Ah, you do not love me. You only think of yourself and not of me, she said. with angry tears in her eyes. The coquette knew well the power of those eyes of hers when they were drowned in tears. "'Take my life, then,' said the Marquis, now quite beside himself. But dry those tears. "'Oh, my love,' she murmured,

the words, the tones, the look that I waited for, to wish for thy happiness rather than mine. but my lord she resumed i ask for one last proof of your affection that you tell me is so great i can stay here only for a little only for the time needed to make sure that you are mine i shall not take even a glass of water in this house where a woman lives who has twice tried to murder me who at this moment perhaps is planning some treachery against us both and who is listening to us at this moment she added pointing out to the marquis the floating folds of madame de guas's robe then she dried her tears and bent to the ear of the young noble who trembled to feel her soft breath on him prepare everything so that we can go she said you will take me back to fujer and there you shall know whether i love you or know for the second time i trust in you will you too trust a second time in me ahah marie you have led me on till i scarcely know what i am doing your words your looks your presence intoxicate me i am ready to do everything you wish well then give me one moment's bliss let me enjoy the only triumph for which i have longed i want to breathe freely once more to live the life of my dreams to take my fill of illusions before they leave me

Let us go. Come and dance with me. They went back again together into the ballroom. For her the gratification of heart and of vanity had been as complete as a woman can know. But her inscrutable soft eyes, the mysterious smile about her mouth and her swift movements in the excited dance

kept the secret of Mademoiselle de Vernaud's thoughts, as the sea buries the secret of some criminal who has given a heavy corpse into its keeping. Yet a murmur of admiration went through the room as she turned to her lover's arms for the waltz, and closely interlocked with drooping heads and languid eyes, they swayed voluptuously round and round, clasping each other in a kind of frenzy, revealing all their hopes of pleasure from a closer union.

Go and see of Pia Miche is in the camp, Count, said Madame de Guois to Monsieur de Beauvoir. Bring him to me, and for this little service you may assure yourself that you shall receive anything that you will ask of me, even my hand. My revenge will cost me dear, she said as she saw him go, but it shall not fail this time. End of Section 22. Section 23 of the Shouans by Honorer de Balzac, translated by Alan Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, read by Bruce Piri. Chapter 3H. A few moments after this scene,

Mademoiselle de Vernau and the Marquis were seated in a Berlin drawn by four strong horses. Francine did not utter a word. She was surprised to see the two who to all appearance had been foes, now sitting hand in hand and on such good terms with each other. She did not even venture to put the question to herself, whether this meant love or treachery on her mistress's part. Thanks to the stillness and the darkness of night, the Marquis could not perceive Mademoiselle de Vernau's agitation, which increased as she drew nearer and nearer to Fugier.

Through the faint dusk they could see the spire of St. Leonard's church in the distance, and then, I shall die, said Marie to herself. When they reached the first hill on the road, the same thought came to both the lover, they left the carriage and walked up yet, as if in memory of that first day of their meeting. Marie took Montaurent's arm and thanked him by a smile for having respected her silence. When they reached the stretch of level ground at the summit, whence they could see Fugier, she emerged from her reverie. Come no further, she said, my authority will not save you from the blues today.

Monterey showed some astonishment at this, but she smiled sadly and pointed to a massive boulder as if to bid him to be seated while she herself remained standing in a melancholy attitude.

The heart-rending grief within her made the artifices which she had used so lavishly no longer possible to her. She could have knelt on burning coals just then and have been no more conscious of them than the Marquis had been of the brand which he had seized

to make known the vehemence of his passion. After looking long at her lover with the deepest sorrow in her gaze, she pronounced the terrible words. All your suspicions of me are true. The Marquis made an unconscious movement. Ah, for pity's sake, she cried, clasping her hands, Hear me to the end without interrupting me. I am, really, the daughter of the Duke de Vernaille.

She went on in an unsteady voice, but I am only his natural daughter. My mother, Mademoiselle de Castoran, took the veil to escape from the punishment which her family had prepared for her. She expiated her fault by 15 years of weeping and died at Céas. It was only at the last when on her death-bed that the dear Abbas, for my sake, sent an entreaty to the man who had forsaken her, for she knew that I had neither friends nor fortune nor prospects. This man who was well remembered in Francine's home, for I had been confided to her mother's care, had quite forgotten his child. Yet the Duke welcomed me gladly and recognized my claim. upon him, because I was pretty, and perhaps too because I brought back memories of his younger days. He was one of those great lords who, in the previous reign, took a pride in showing how that if a crime were but gracefully perpetrated, it needs must be condoned. I will say no more about him.

He was my father. And yet you must suffer me to explain how my life in Paris could not but leave my mind tainted. In the Duke de Verneux's circle and in the society into which he introduced me, there was a craze for the skeptical philosophy which France had accepted with enthusiasm, because it was put forward everywhere with so much ability. The brilliant talk that pleased my ears found favor with me on account of the keenness of apprehension displayed in it, or by reason of the cleverly turned formulas which brought contempt

upon religion and upon truth. The men who made light of feelings and opinions expressed them all the better because they had never felt or held them, and their epigrammatic turn of expression was not more attractive than the lively ease with which they could put a whole story into a word. Sometimes, however, their cleverness misled them, and women found them wearisome when love-making became a science rather than an affair of the heart. I made a feeble resistance to this torrent, although my soul, forgive me for my vanity, was impassioned enough to feel that Esprit had withered all these natures about me. The life that I led in those days, ended in a chronic strife between my natural disposition and the warped

habits of mind that I had acquired. A few aspiring intellects had amused themselves by encouraging me in a freedom of thought and a contempt for public opinion that deprives a woman of a certain reticence without which she has no charm. Alas, it has not been in the power of adversity. to correct the defects which prosperity implanted in me. And she sighed. My father, the Duke de Vernau, she resumed, died after recognizing me as his daughter, leaving a will which considerably diminished

the estate of my half-brother, his legitimate son, in my favor. One morning I found myself without a protect or a roof above my head. My brother disputed the will which had enriched me. My vanity had been developed during the past three years, which had been spent in a wealthy household. My father had indulged all my fancies.

To him I owed a craving for luxury and habits in which my simple and inexperienced mind failed to recognize a perilous bondage. The Marichelle duke de Lunancourt, one of my father's friends, a man of 70, offered to become my guardian. I accepted his offer, and a few days after the detestable lawsuit had begun, I found myself in a splendid house, where I was in full possession of all the advantages that a brother's unkindness had refused to me over our father's coffin. The old Marshal used to come to spend a few hours with me every evening, and from him I heard only gentle and soothing words. His white hair and all the touching proofs of paternal tenderness which he gave me led me to believe that the feelings of my own heart were likewise his, and I liked to think that I was his daughter.

I took the ornaments that he gave me and made no secret of any of my own. my fancies when I saw him so glad to indulge them. One evening I discovered that all Paris looked upon me as the poor old man's mistress. It was made clear to me that I could never re-establish my innocence, of which I had been so groundlessly deprived. The man who had taken advantage of my inexperience could not be my lover and would not be my husband, in the week in which I made this hideous discovery, and on the eve of the day that had been fixed for my marriage, for I had insisted that he should give me his name, the one reparation

that it was in his power to make me, he started suddenly for Koblenz. I was ignominiously driven from the little house in which the marshal had installed me, and which was not his own property. So far, I have told the truth to you as if I stood before the judgment throne, but after this point do not ask for a complete list of all the sufferings that lie buried in the memory of an unhappy girl. One day, sir, I found myself Dantan's wife. A few days later, and the great oak tree about which I had cast my arms, was uprooted by the tempest.

then when plunged for the second time into utter misery i determined to die i don't know if it was mere love of life or the hope of outwearing misfortune and so of finding at last in the depths of this infinite abyss the happiness that eluded my grasp or by what other motive I was unconsciously counseled. I know not whether I was led away by the arguments of the young man from Vandom, who for the past two years has hung about me like a serpent about a tree, thinking no doubt that some overwhelming misfortune may give me to him. Indeed, I do not know how I came to accept this hateful mission of winning the love of a stranger whom I was to betray for 300,000 francs. Then I saw you, sir, and I knew you at once.

I knew it by one of those presentiments that never lead us astray. And yet I was glad to doubt it, for the more I loved you, the more appalling the conviction grew for me. When I rescued you from Ullo's clutches, I foreswore the part that I was playing. I determined to outwit the executioners instead of deceiving their victim. It was wrong of me to play in that way with men's lives and with their schemes and with myself, with all the heedlessness of a girl who can see nothing but sentiment in the world. I thought that I was loved

and allowed the hope of beginning my life anew to be my guide. But everything about me and even I myself perhaps betrayed my lawless past, for you must have mistrusted a woman with so passionate a nature as mine. Alas, who could refuse forgiveness to me for my love and my dissimmy? Yes, sir, I felt as though after a long and uneasy sleep I had awakened to find myself a girl of sixteen again. Was I not in Alonso? The pure and innocent memories of my childish days there rose up before me. My wild credulity led me to think that love would give me a baptism of innocence.

for a little while I thought that I was a maiden still, for as yet I had never loved. But yesterday evening it seemed to me that there was sincerity in your passion, and a voice within me cried, Why do you deceive him? Know this, therefore, Marquis. She went on in a deep, hard voice, which seemed proudly to demand, her own condemnation.

Know this for a certainty that I am only a dishonored creature and unworthy of you. From this moment I will resume my role of castaway. I am too weary to sustain any longer the part of the woman whom you had led to yield herself to all the most sacred impulses of her heart. Virtue weighs me down. I should despise you if you were weak enough to marry me. A comte de Beauvoir might perhaps commit such a folly, but you, sir, be worthy of your future, and leave me without regret.

The cartisan, you see, would require too much. She would love you in no wise like a simple and artless girl, she who felt in her heart for a little while the exquisite hope that she might be your companion, that she might make you always happy and do you honor, and be a noble and high-minded wife to you, and who, through these very thoughts that moved her, gathered courage and revived her evil nature of vice and infamy, so as to set it between herself and you. as an external barrier. I gave up honor and fortune for your sake.

The pride which lays his sacrifice upon me will uphold me in my wretchedness, and my fate I leave to the disposal of destiny. I will never betray you. I shall go back to Paris, and when I am there, your name will be another separate self to me and the splendid heroism with which you will invest it will be my consolation in all my sorrows as for you you are a man you will forget me farewell

she fled in the direction of the valleys of st so peace and vanished before the marquis had risen to delay her but she retraced her steps hid herself in a fissure of the rocks, raised her head, and anxiously and doubtfully studied the marquis. He was walking on without heeding the direction in which he went, like a man distraught. If his should be a weak nature, she said to herself as he disappeared, and she felt herself cut off from him, will he understand me? She trembled. Then she suddenly walked on towards Fugier by herself, with rapid steps, as if she feared that the marquis might follow her to the town where he would have met with his death. Well, Francine, what did he say?

She asked of her faithful Breton as soon as they were together again. Alas, Marie, I was sorry for him. You great ladies can stab a man to the heart with a bitter word. what was he like when he came up with you did he so much as see me oh marie he loves you oh he loves me or he loves me not she answered two words that mean heaven or hell for me and between those two extremes i cannot find a place on which to set my foot after she had accomplished the task laid upon her by fate marie could give way to her sorrow. Her face had kept its composure hitherto, owing to a mixture of different sentiments within her, but now it underwent a rapid change, so that after a day spent in fluctuating between

presentiments of joy or despair, her beauty lost its radiance and the freshness which owes its existence either to the absence of all passion or to transports of happiness. Ullo and Quarentin came to see her shortly after her arrival, curious to know the results of her wild enterprise. Marie received them smilingly. Well, she said to the commandant whose anxious face looked searchingly at her, The fox is coming within range of your guns again, and you will soon gain a very glorious victory. what has happened corinthau inquired carelessly he gave mademoiselle de vernois a sidelong glance such as this sort of diplomatist uses for discovering the thoughts of others ah she answered the gah is more in love with me than ever and i made him come with us as far as the gates of fujer apparently that is where your power ends

said Caranta, and the C. Devon's fears are still stronger than the love which you inspire in him. Mademoiselle de Vernaud glanced contemptuously at Coranta. You judge him by yourself, she replied. Well, he said serenely, why did you not bring him as far as your own house? If he really loved me, Commandant, she said to Ullo, with a moment. malicious glance, would you bear a grudge against me if I saved him and bore him away out of France? The old veteran went quickly up to her and took her hand as if to kiss it with a sort of enthusiasm. Then he gazed steadily at her and said, as his brow grew dark,

You forget my two friends and my 63 men. Ah, commandant, she said, with all the naivete of passion, that was not his fault. He was tricked by a bad woman, Charette's mistress, who I believe would drink the blood of the blues. Come, Marie, Coronet put in, do not make fun of the commandant. he does not understand your jests as yet. Be silent, she answered, and know that the day on which you annoy me a little too much will be your last.

I see Mademoiselle, said Ullo, with no bitterness in his tone, that I must prepare to fight. You are in no condition to do so, my dear Colonel. I saw more than six thousand of their men at St. James, regular troops and ordinance and English officers, but without him what will become of all these people. I think, as Foucher does, that his head is everything.

Very well, when shall we have it? Coranta asked impatiently. I don't know, was her careless response. English officers, cried Ullo, in hot wrath, the one thing wanting to make a downright brigand of him. Ah, I will fit him up with his Englishmen that I will. It seems to me, citizen diplomatist, that you allow that girl to upset all your plans from time to time, was Ullo's remarked to Corantan when they were a few paces distant from the

house. It is quite natural, citizen commandant. said Caranta with a pence of air, that you are bewildered by all that she has told us. You men of the sword do not know that there are several ways of making war. To make a dexterous use of the passions of men and women as so many springs which can be set in motion for the benefit of the state. To set in position all the wheels in the mighty piece of machinery that we call a government. to take a pleasure in setting within it the most stubborn sentiments, like detents whose action one can amuse

oneself by controlling. Is not all this the work of a creator? Is it not a position like gods in the center of the universe? You will permit me to prefer my trade to yours, the soldier answered dryly. Do as you will with that machinery of yours. I acknowledge no superior but the minister of war. I have my instructions, and I shall take the field with stout fellows who will not skulk and openly confront the enemy whom you wish to take from behind. Oh, you can get ready to march if you like, Koranta rejoined. inscrutable as you may think this girl i have managed to gather from her that there will be some skirmishing for you and before very long i shall have the pleasure of obtaining for you a tte tte with the chief of these brigands

how will you do that inquired you lo stepping back a little the better to see this singular being mademoiselle de vernois loves the gar corintha answered in a stifled voice and very likely he is in love with her he is a marquis he wears the red ribbon he is young and he has a clever head who knows but that he may still be wealthy how many inducements she would be very foolish not to play for her own hand and try to marry him rather than give him up to us she is endeavouring to keep us amused but I can read a kind of misgiving in the girl's eyes. The two lovers will most probably arrange a meeting, perhaps they have done so already. Well, then, tomorrow I shall have my man fast enough. Hitherto he was the enemy of the Republic and nothing more, but a few minutes ago he became mine as well.

And all those who have taken it into their heads to come between this girl and me have died on the scaffold. When he had finished, Corantin became too much absorbed in his own meditations to notice the expression of intense disgust on the true-hearted soldier's face. When Ullo became aware of the depths in this intrigue and of the nature of the springs employed in Foucher's machinery, he made up his mind. at once to thwart Coranta in every matter in which the success of the enterprise or the wishes of the government were not essentially concerned, and to give to the foe of the

Republic a chance of dying honorably sword in hand before he could fall a victim to the executioner, whose avowed caterer stood before him in the person of this secret agent of the upper powers of the police. If the first consul were to take my advice, he thought, turning his back on Coranta, he would leave this kind of fox to fight it out with the aristocrats. They would be well matched, and he should employ soldiers in quite other business. Coranta looked coolly at the veteran, whose thoughts shone out plainly in his face. and a sardonic expression returned to his eyes,

revealing a sense of superiority in this Machiavellian understrapper. Give three elves of blue cloth to brutes of that sort and hang a bit of iron at their sides, and they fancy that in politics men may only be got rid of after one fashion, said he to himself. He walked slowly on for a few minutes, and suddenly exclaimed within. Yes, the hour has come, and the woman shall be mine.

The circle that I have traced about her has been gradually growing smaller and smaller for five years. I have her now, and with her help I shall climb as high in the government as Foucher. Yes, when she loses the one man whom she has loved, the agony of it will give her her to me, body and sore. All that I have to do now is to keep a watch on her night and day, to surprise her secret. A moment later an onlooker might have seen Corantin's pale face at the window of a house whence he could behold everyone who came into the blind alley between the row of houses in St. Leonard's church. He was there again on the morning of the next day, patient as a cat that lies in wait for a mouse,

attentive to the slightest sound, and engaged in submitting every passerby to a rigorous scrutiny. It was the morning of a market day, and although in those troubled times, the peasants scarcely ventured to come to the town, Coranta saw a gloomy-looking man clad in goat-skins who carried a small, round, flat-shaped, basket on his arm, and who went towards Mademoiselle de Vernaud's house, after giving a careless

look round about him. Corantin came down from his post, proposing to stop the peasant as he came out, but it suddenly occurred to him that if he could enter Mademoiselle de Verne's house at unawares, a single glance might possibly surprise the secret hidden in the messenger's basket. popular report moreover had taught him that it was all but impossible to come off best in an encounter with the impenetrable replies that normans and bretons are wont to make gallop schopen cried mademoiselle de vernois as froncine brought in the shewain am i then beloved she added to herself in a low voice an instinct of hope brought a bright colour to her face and put joy and her heart. Galop Chopin looked by turns at the mistress of the house and at Francine, casting suspicious glances at the latter, until his doubts were removed by a sign from Mademoiselle

de Vernaut. "'Madame,' he said, towards two o'clock, he will be at my place, waiting for you.' Mademoiselle de Vernaud's agitation was so great that she could only bend her head in reply, but Asamalid could have understood all its significance. Quarantin's footsteps echoed in the salon at that moment. Galop Chopin was not disturbed in the least when Mademoiselle de Vernaud's glance and shudder made him aware of approaching danger. As soon as the spy showed his astute countenance, the schoen raised his voice to a deafening pitch.

yes yes he said to francine there is brittany butter and brittany butter you want gibeati butter and only give eleven sous the pound for it you ought not to have sent for me this is really good butter he said opening his basket and exhibiting two pats that barbette had made up pay a fair price good lady come another sou There was no trace of agitation in his hollow voice, and his green eyes underneath the bushy-gray eyebrows bore Corantan's keen scrutiny without flinching. Come now, my man, hold your tongue. You did not come here to sell butter. You are dealing with a lady who never drove a bargain in her life. Your line of business, old boy, will leave you shorter by a head some of these days. Coronton tapped him amicably on the shoulder and continued,

You cannot be in the service of both Shouans and Blues at once for very long. It took all Galob Shopein's self-possession to choke down his wrath, and so prevent himself from rebutting this accusation, which, owing to his avarice, was a true one. He contented himself with saying, saying, "'The gentleman has a mind to laugh at me.' Corantin had turned his back upon the shewain, but as he greeted Mademoiselle de Vernau, whose heart stood still with terror, he could easily watch the man in the mirror.

Galop Chopin, who believed that the spy could no longer see him, looked inquiringly at Francine and Francine pointed to the door. saying, come along with me, good man, we shall always manage to settle things comfortably. Nothing had been lost upon Coranta. He had seen everything. He had noticed the contraction of Mademoiselle de Vernaud's mouth, which her smile had failed to disguise, and her red flush and the alteration in her features, as well as the shoe one's uneasiness and Francine's gesture. He felt certain that Golobe Chopin was a messenger from the Marquis, caught at the long hair of the man's goatskins, stopped him just as he was going out, drew him back so that he confronted his own steady gaze, and said, Where do you live, my good friend? I want butter. Good gentleman, the Schoen answered. Everybody in Fugier knows where I live. I am.

as you may say corantin cried mademoiselle de vernoi breaking in upon gallop schopen's answer it is a great piece of presumption on your part to pay me a visit at this time of day and to take me by surprise like this i am scarcely dressed leave the peasant in peace he understands your tactics as little as i understand your motives for them go good fellow gallop schopin hesitated for a moment before before he went. The indecision of an unlucky wretch who cannot tell whom he must obey, whether it was real or feigned, had already succeeded in deceiving Coranty, and the schoen, at an imperative gesture from Marie tramped heavily away. Then Mademois de Vernau and Coranty looked at one another in silence. This time, Marie's clear eyes could not endure the intensity of the arid glare that was shed upon her in the other's gaze.

The determined manner with which the spy had made his way into her room, an expression on his face which was new to Marie, the dull sound of his thin voice, his attitude, everything about him, alarmed her. She felt that a secret struggle had been. begun between them, and that he was exerting all the powers of his sinister influence against her. But although at that moment she distinctly beheld the full extent of the gulf and the depths to which she had consigned herself, she drew sufficient strength from her love to shake

off the icy cold of her presentiments. Quentin, she began, with an attempt at mirth, I hope you will allow me to finish finish my toilette. Marie, said he, yes, allow me to call you so. You do not know me yet. Listen, a less sharp-sighted man than I would have found out your love for the Marquis de Monta-Ront-Rom before this. I have a gain and again offered you my heart and my hand.

You did not think me worthy of you, and perhaps you were right. But if you think that you are too much above me, too beautiful or too high-minded for me, I can easily make you come down to my level. My ambitions and my doctrines have inspired you with scanty respect for me, and to be plain with you, you are wrong. The value of men is even less than my estimate of them, and I rate them at next to nothing. There can be no doubt but that I shall attain two of us.

a high position, to honors that will gratify your pride. Who will love you better than I? Over whom will you have such an absolute dominion as over the man who has loved you for five years past? At the risk of making an impression upon you which will not be in my favor, for you have no idea that it is possible to renounce through excess of love, the woman whom one worships, I will give you a measure of the disinterested affection with which I adore you. Do not shake your pretty head in that way.

If the Marquis loves you, marry him. But first, make quite sure of his sincerity. If I knew that you were disappointed in him, I should be in despair, for your happiness is dearer to me than my own. My determination may surprise you, But you must describe it simply to the prudence of a man who is not fool enough to wish to possess a woman against her will. I blame myself, moreover, and not you for the futility of my efforts. I hoped to win you by dint of submission and devotion, for, as you know, for a long time past,

I have tried to make you happy after my notions, but you have thought fit to reward me for nothing. I have endured your presence, she said haughtily. Say further that you are sorry to have done so. After you have committed me to this disgraceful enterprise, are thanks still owing to you? When I proposed an undertaking to you, in which timorous souls might find something blameworthy, I had only your fortune in view," he answered audaciously. As for me, whether I succeed or fail, I can now make every sort of result conduce to the ultimate success of my plans.

If you should marry Montereau, I shall be delighted to make myself useful to the Bourbon cause in Paris, where I am a member of the cliché club. As it happens any circumstance that you can't be a man. put me in correspondence with the princes would persuade me to quit the cause of a republic, which is tottering to its fall. General Bonaparte is far too clever not to perceive that he cannot possibly be at once in Germany and Italy and here where the revolution is on the wane. He arranged the eighteenth Brumere because no doubt he wished to obtain the best possible terms from the Bourbons in treating with them as to France, for he is a very clever fellow and

has no lack of capacity, but politicians ought to get ahead of him on the road on which he has entered. As to betraying France, we who are superior to any scruples on that score can leave them to fools. I am fully empowered, I do not conceal it from you, either to open negotiations with the shoe and chiefs, or to extirpate them. For my patron, Foucher, is deep fellow enough. He has always played a double game. During the terror, he was at once for Robespierre and for Dantan. Whom you forsook like a coward, she said.

Rubish, replied Caranta. He is dead. Forget him. Come, speak your mind frankly. I have set the example. The chief of the demi-brigade is shrewder than he looks. And if you wish to elude the watch he keeps, I might be useful to you. So long as you stay here beneath his eye, you are at the mercy of his police.

You see how quickly he learned that the shoe on was with you? How could his military sagacity fail to make it plain to him that your least movements would keep him informed as to the whereabouts of the Marquis if you are loved by Montaureen? Mademoiselle de Vernaud had never heard such gently affectionate tones before. Corantin seemed to be absolutely sincere and to put full trust in her. The poor girl's heart so readily received generous impressions that she was about to entrust her secret to the serpent who had wound his coils about her. She bethought herself,

however, that she had no proof whatever that this crafty talk was genuine, and so she felt no hesitation about deceiving the man who was watching her. Well, she answered, you have guessed my secret, Carantin. Yes, I love the Marquis, but I am not loved by him, or at least I fear not, so that the rendezvous he has made seems to me to hide some trap. But you told us yesterday that he had come with you as far as Fugier, Corantin replied, if he had intended violence, you would not be here.

Your heart is withered, Caranta. You can base cunningly contrived schemes on the occurrences of ordinary life, but you cannot reckon with the course of passion. Perhaps that is the cause of the aversion that you always inspire in me. But as you are so clear-sighted, try to understand how it is that a man from whom the day before he yesterday I parted in anger, is waiting eagerly for me today on the Mayenne Road, at a house in Floreigny, towards the end of the day. At this confession which seemed to have escaped

from her in a moment of excitement, natural enough in a nature so passionate and outspoken, Corantin reddened, for he was still young, but furtively he gave her one of those keen glances that try to explore the soul. Mademoiselle de Verneux's feigned revelation of self had been made so skillfully that the spy was deceived. He made answer with the semblance of good nature. Would you like me to follow you at a distance? I would take soldiers in plain clothes with me

and we should be at your orders. I agree to you. to it, said she, but promise me, on your honor, oh no, for I put no faith in that, on your salvation, but you do not believe in God, on your soul, but perhaps you have no soul. What guarantee can you give me of your fidelity? And yet I am trusting in you, notwithstanding, and I am putting into your hands more than my life or my love or my revenge." The faint smile that appeared over Quaranta's sallow features showed Mademoiselle de Vernaut the danger that she had just escaped.

The agent of police, whose nostrils seemed to contract rather than to expand, took his victim's hand and kissed it with every outward sign of deep respect. and took leave of her with a not ungraceful bow. End of Section 23. Section 24 of the Shouans by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Ellen Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Read by Bruce Piri.

Chapter 3. I. Three hours later, Mademoiselle de Vernaut, who stood in fear of Quentin's return, stole out of St. Leolard's gate, and took the narrow path down the needle crock, which led into the Nanceau-Valley. She thought herself safe, as she went unnoticed through the labyrinth of tracks which led to Gallop Chopin's cabin, whither she betook herself with a light heart, for the hope

of happiness led her on, as well as the strong wish to save her lover from the dangers that threatened him. Corantin, meanwhile, went in quest of the commandant. He had some difficulty in recognizing Ullo when he came upon him in a little square, where the commandant was deep in military preparations. Indeed, the brave veteran had made a sacrifice of which the merit can hardly be estimated. His cue had been cut off, he had shaved his mustache, and there was a trace of powder about his hair, which was clipped as short as a priest's.

He wore great iron-bound shoes and had exchanged his old blue uniform and his sword for goatskins, a belt adorned with pistols, and a heavy carbine. Thus accoutred he was reviewing two hundred of the townsmen of Fugierre, whose costumes might have deceived the eyes of the most expert Shuwan. The martial fervor of the little town and of the native Breton character was very evident. There was no novelty about the spectacle. Here and there a mother or sister carried to a son or brother a gourd of brandy or pistols that had been forgotten.

A number of old men were investigating the quality and quantity of the cartridges supplied to the National Guards, thus metamorphosed into counter-shuans, whose high spirits seemed more in accordance with a hunting party than with a dangerous enterprise. The skirmishes of chuanery wherein Breton townsmen fought with Breton peasants appeared, in their eyes to be a substitute for the tournaments of chivalry. Possibly this fervid patriotism had its source in certain grants of national property, but the benefits of the revolution which were better appreciated in the towns, as well as party, spirit, and a characteristic and innate love of fighting, all counted for something in bringing about their enthusiasm.

Ullo went through the ranks in admiration, making inquiries of Goudin, to whom he had transferred the friendship he had formerly entertained for Merle and Gerard. A crowd of townspeople, examining the preparations for their expedition, compared the appearance of their undisciplined fellow-countrymen with that of a battalion of Ullo's own demi-brigade. Silent and motionless, the Blues stood drawn up in line under the command of their officers, awaiting the orders of the commandant, whom the eyes of every soldier followed about from group to group. As Quarantin approached the chief of Demi Brigade,

he could not repress a smile at the change that had been wrought in Ullo's face. He looked like a portrait which no longer bears any likeness to the original. What is the news now, Corantin asked him. come and fire a shot along with us and you will know the commandant replied oh i do not belong to fujer answered corinthin that is easy to see citizen said goudin a mocking laugh broke out here and there among the groups of bystanders do you imagine retorted corintaire that france can only be served with the bayonet. He turned his back on the scoffers, and went up to one of the women to inquire the purpose and the destination of the expedition. Alas, good sir, the shoe-ins are even now at Flourigny. They say that they are more than

three thousand strong, and that they are marching on Fugierre. Floreigny, cried Quarantin, turning pale. Then her rendezvous is not. there. Are they really at Florigny, on the road to Mayenne? he asked. There is only one Florigny, the woman answered, and as she spoke she indicated the road that was cut short by the summit of La Pellarine. Are you looking for the Marquis de Montauroix? Quentin asked the commandant.

Rather, Ullo answered shortly. Then he is not at Flohran. Floreigny," Quarentin resumed. Bring your own battalion and the National Guard to bear on that point, but keep a few of your countershoens with you and wait for me." He is too cunning to be mad," the commandant exclaimed as he watched Quarantin set off with hasty strides. He is the very king of spies.

Lulot immediately gave his battalion a signal to depart. The Republican soldiers marched silently and without beat of drum through the narrow suburb that lies on the way to the Mayenne Road, forming a long streak of blue and red among the houses and trees. The disguised National Guards followed them, but Ullo stayed behind in the little square with Goudin and a score of the smartest of the young men of the town. He was waiting for Corantin, whose enigmatical air had roused his curiosity. Francine herself told Corantin that Mademoiselle de Vernaut had gone out, and the keen-witted spies' surmise became a certainty.

He started out at once in quest of any light that he could obtain as to this abrupt departure, which with good reason seemed suspect. to him. Quarantin learned from the soldiers in the guardhouse at St. Leonard's gate that the fair stranger had gone down the path on the side of the Nido Croc. He hurried to the promenade and unluckily reached it just in time to watch all Marie's slightest movements from his post of observation, though she had dressed herself in a hood and gown of green so as to be less conspicuous.

The quick uneven movements of her almost frenzied progress among the hedges, now leafless and white with hoar-frost, readily betrayed the direction in which she was going. Ah, he cried, you should, by rights beyond the way to Flourigny, but you are going down the dale of Ghi-Barre. I am a fool after all. She has tricked me. Patience, though, I can light my lamp in the daytime quite as well as at night. Quarantin, who had all but detected the spot where the two lovers were to meet,

hurried back into the square, just as Ullo was leaving it to rejoin his troops. Halt General, he shouted, and the commandant came back. In a brief space, Coranta put the soldier in possession of the facts that seem to be visible threads in a web as yet concealed from them. Ullo struck with the diplomatist's astuteness, seized him by the arm. Miltaner, you are right, citizen. The bandits down there are making a faint, the two flying columns of the two flying columns of I set out to reconnoiter the neighborhood which lies between the road to Entrain and the road to Vitre have not yet come back.

So we shall no doubt obtain reinforcements in the country which will come in handy, for the gar is not such a fool as to venture out without his blessed screech-owls." "'Goodin,' he went on, addressing the young Fugiery. "'Hurry off and let Captain Lebrun know that he can do without me as Flourini, tell him to give the brigands there a dressing down, and come back again in less than no time. You know the shortcuts. I shall wait for you here to set out on a hunt for the sea de vand, and to avenge the murders at the Viveteer. T'Hard de Jé, how he runs, he added as he watched Goudin set off and vanish as if by magic.

How Gerard would have liked that fellow. When Goudin came back, he found the numbers of Ullo's little band increased. A few soldiers had been withdrawn from the guardhouses in the town. The commandant told the young Fugéire to pick out a dozen of his countrymen who were best acquainted with the risky trade of Countershuan, and ordered him to make his way through St. Leonard's Gate so as to go over the whole length of that side of the hills of st sulpice which overlooked the main valley of the cueno the side moreover on which gallop chopin's cabin lay ullo put himself at the head of his remaining men and went out of the town through the gate of st sul piece meaning to climb the hills and to follow the line of their crests where according to his calculations he ought to

in with Beaupier and his men, whom he intended to employ, informing a cordon of sentinels who should watch the crags from the suburb of Saint-Sulpice as far as the Nido Croc. Corantin, feeling quite certain that he had put the fate of the Shu'an chief into the hands of his bitterest foes, promptly betook himself to the promenade the better to grasp the whole of Ullo's military dispositions. He was not slow to perceive Goudin's little band as it issued from the valley of the Nassau and followed the line of the crags along the side of the Cueninand valley, while Ullo, breaking cover, stole under the walls of the castle of Fugier and climbed the dangerous path

that ascends to the summits of the hills of Saint-Sulpice. The two bodies of men, therefore, appeared in parallel lines. The rich tracery of horror frost that decorated every bush and tree had given a white hue to the countryside and made it easy to watch the gray moving lines of the two small bodies of soldiers. When Ulloo reached the level heights of the crags, he called out all the men in uniform among his troops, and Quarantin saw how they were posted, by the orders of the keen-sighted commandant, as a line of patrolling sentinels with a sufficient distance between each man.

The first man of the chain communicated with Goudin and the last with Ullo, so that there was no bush that could escape the bayonets of the three moving lines which were to hunt down the gar over hill and field. The old war wolf is crafty, cried Quarantin, as the clitoring points of the last bayonets disappeared in the adjonks. The gar's goose is cooked. If Marie had betrayed this accursed marquis, she and I should have had the strongest of all bonds between us, the bond of guilt.

But she shall certainly be mine. The twelve lads from Fugier, under the command of Goudin, their sub-lieutenant, very soon reached the spot on the other side of the Saint-Soul-Pice crags, where they slope by degrees into the Dale of Ghiberti. Goudin himself left the road and vaulted lightly over the echelier into the first field of broom that he came across. Six of his fellows went with him, while the other six in obedience to his orleans to his took the fields to the right, so that in this way they beat up both sides of the road.

Gudin himself hurried to an apple tree that stood in the midst of the broom. At the sound of the footsteps of the six countershoens whom Gudan led through the forest of bushes, making every effort the while not to disturb the rhyme upon them, Bo Peer and seven or eight men under his command hid themselves, themselves behind some chestnut trees that grew on the summit of the hedge by which the field was surrounded. In spite of the white covering that enveloped the country and in spite of their well-trained eyes, the lads from Fugier at first did not notice the others, who had made a sort of rampart of the trees.

Hush, said Bopier, who had raised his head first, here they are. The brigands have got ahead of us, but since we have them here at the ends of our guns, don't let us miss them, or, my word for it, we shall not even be fit to be soldiers to the Pope. Goodin's keen eyes, however, had at last discerned the barrels of the muskets that were pointed at his little party. Eight loud voices immediately shouted, Who goes there? A bitter jib that was followed up.

up at once by eight shots. The bullets whistled about the counter-shuance, one was hit in the arm and another dropped. Five of the party who remained unheard retorted with a volley, as they answered, friends! and marched rapidly upon their supposed enemies so as to come upon them before they could reload. We did not know there was so much truth in what we said, the young sub-lieutenant exclaimed, as he recognized the uniforms and shabby hats of his demi-brigade. We have acted in true Breton fashion, fighting first and asking for explanations afterwards. The eight soldiers stood dumbfounded at the sight of Goudin.

Plague, take it, sir, who the devil could help taking you for the brigands in those goatskins of yours, cried Bopier dolefully. it is unlucky and none of us are to blame for you were not told beforehand that our counter-shoons were going to make a sortie but what are you about goudin asked him we are looking out for a dozen shuans sir who are amusing themselves by breaking our backs we have been running for it like poisoned rats but our legs are stiff with jumping over these echeliers and hedges heaven confound them. So we were taking a rest. I think by now the brigands must be somewhere near the shanty you see over there, with the smoke rising from it. Good, cried Goudin. As for you, he said to Bopier and his eight men, fall back across the fields on the crags of senso piece and support the line of sentinels that the commandant has posted there.

It will not do for you to stay with us, as you are in uniform. Meal cartouche, we want to put an end to the dogs. The gah is among them. Your comrades will tell you more about it than I can. File to the left, and do not fire on half a dozen of our goatskins whom you may come across. You can tell our schoens by their cravats. They are wound round their necks without a knot.

Goudin left the two wounded men under the apple-tree and went towards Galop Chopin's house, which Bopier had pointed out to him, guided by the smoke that rose from it. While the young officer had been put on the track of the Shouans by a chance fray, common enough in this war, but which might have been much more serious, the little detachment under Ullo's command had reached a point in his line of operations, parallel with that reached by Gudin on the other side. The veteran, at the head of his counter-shoons, stole noiselessly along the hedges

with all the eagerness of a young man. He sprang over the echeliers, lightly enough, even now. His tawny eyes wandered over the heights, and he turned his ear like a hunter towards the slightest sound. In the third field which she entered, he saw a woman of thirty or thereabouts engaged in hoeing. She was hard at work and bending over her toil, while a little boy, about seven or eight years old, armed with a bill-hook, was shaking the hoar-frost from a few firs bushes that had sprung up here and there, before cutting them down and laying them in heaps.

The little urchin and his mother raised their heads at the sound that Ullo made as he came down heavily on the near side of the echelier. Ullo readily took the young woman for an old one. Rinkles had come before their time to furrow the skin of the Breton woman's throat and brow, and she was so oddly dressed in a well-worn goat-skin that if a skirt of dirty yellow canvas had not denoted her sex, Ullo would not have known whether the peasant was a man or a woman, for the long locks of her black hair were hidden away under a red woolen cap. The little urchin's rags scarcely covered him, and his skin showed through them.

"'Hello, old woman,' said Ullo in a low voice as he came up to her. "'Where is the gar?' the twenty countershoens who followed him leapt the boundary into the field at that moment oh to go to the gah you must go back to the place you have come from the woman replied after she had given us suspicious glance round at the men did i ask you the way to the suburb of the gha at fugere old scarecrow ullo answered roughly st anne of au re Have you seen the gah go by? I do not know what you mean, the woman answered, stooping to go on with her work. Do you want the blues on our track to swallow us up, a cursed garth? shouted Ullo.

The woman raised her head at the words and eyed the shuons with fresh suspicion, as she answered, How can the blues be at your heels? I have just seen seven or eight of them going back to Fugier along the road below there. Now, would not anyone think that she had a mind to bite us? asked Ullo. There, look, there, old nanny-goat.

The commandant pointed to three or four of his own sentries, some fifty paces behind, whose hats, uniforms, and guns were easily recognizable. Do you want the men whom Marchetere is sending to help the gar to have their throats cut? The Fugier people want to catch them, he said angrily. Oh, I beg your pardon, the woman answered, but it is so easy to make a mistake. What parish do you come from? she asked. from st george's cried two or three of the fujier men in barbretton and we are perishing of hunger very well stop a moment said the woman do you see that smoke yonder my house is there if you follow the track to the right you will come out up above it perhaps you may meet my husband on the way galop schopen has to keep a look-out so as to warn the gaw, for he has come to our house today, you know, she added proudly.

Thanks, good woman, Ullo answered. Forward, he added, speaking to his men. Conner de de de dech, we have him now. At these words, the detachment followed the commandant at a run down the footpath that had been pointed out to them. But when Galop Chopin's wife heard, the oath, which so little be seemed a Catholic, uttered by the supposed Shouan, she turned pale. She looked at the gaiters and goatskins of the lads from Fugier, sat herself down on the ground,

and held her child in a tight embrace, as she said, May the Holy Virgin of O'Re and the Blessed Saint-Laba have mercy upon us. I do not believe that those are our people. Their shoes have no nails to them. Run along the lower road and tell your father about it. His head is at stake, she said to the little boy, who vanished among the broom and furs like a fawn. Menemoiselle de Vernaille, however, had met no one belonging to either side upon her way,

though blues and showans were hunting each other in the labyrinth of fields that lay round Galop Chopin's cabin. When she came in sight of the column of bluish smoke which rose from the half-ruent chimney of the wretched dwelling, she felt her heart beating so violently that the quick vibrating throbs seemed to surge, into her throat. She stopped, laid her hand on the branch of a tree to steady herself, and gazed at the smoke which was to serve for a beacon alike to the friends and foes of the young chief. Never before had she felt such overwhelming emotion. Ah, I love him too much, she said to herself in a kind of despair. Perhaps today I shall have command of myself no longer. She said, suddenly crossed the space that lay between her and the hovel and came into the yard whose

muddy surface was now hard frozen. The great dog flew barking at her, but at a word from Galop Chopin, he ceased and wagged his tail. As she entered the hut, Mademoiselle de Vernaud gave a comprehensive glance round it. The Marquis was not there. Marie breathed more freely. She was glad to see that the Shouan had made an effort to restore some amount of cleanliness to the one dirty room of his den.

Calop Schopen seized his duck gun, took leave of his visitor without uttering a word, and went out with his dog. Marie went after him as far as the threshold, and watched him turn to the right, when outside his cabin, into a lane whose entrance was barred by the decayed trunk of a tree. that was almost dropping to pieces. From the doorway, she could see field beyond field. The bars across their openings made a sort of vista of gateways, for the bareness of the trees and hedges

enabled the eye to see the smallest details in the landscape. As soon as Galop Chopin's great hat was quite out of sight, Mademoiselle de Verneux went out and turned to the left to gain a view of the church at Fugier, but the shed hid it from her completely. Then she turned her gaze upon the Cueninot Valley, which lay beneath her eyes like a great sheet of muslin. Its whiteness made the lowering sky, with its gray snow clouds, seem heavier yet. It was one of those days when nature seems to be dumb, and every sound is absorbed by the air, so that although the blues and countershoens were traversing the country in three lines,

in the form of a triangle that diminished as they came nearer and nearer to the cabin, the silence was so deep that Mademoiselle de Vernau felt a trouble caused by her surroundings, and a sort of physical sadness was added to her mental anguish. There was calamity in the air. At last, in a spot where the vista of Eicheliers was screened off by a few trees, she saw a young man leaping over the bars like a squirrel and running with wonderful speed. It is he, she said to her.

Self. End of Section 24. Section 25 of the Shouans by Honorada Balzac, translated by Ellen Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Read by Bruce Peary. Chapter 3J. The gau was dressed like any other Shouan. His blunderbuss was slung behind him over his goat skin, and but for his grace of movement,

he would have been unrecognizable. fled into the cabin, acting upon an instinctive impulse as little explainable as fear. But almost immediately the young chief stood at a distance of two paces from her before the hearth where a clear and glowing fire was crackling. Neither of them could find a voice. Each of them feared to move or to look at the other. One hope united their thoughts. One doubt held them apart.

It was agony and it was rapture. Sir, said Mademoiselle Vernaud at last in an unsteady voice, it is only a regard for your safety that has brought me hither. For my safety? he asked, with bitterness in his tones. Yes, she replied, so long as I remain in Fugier, your life is imperiled. My love for you is too great to prevent me from going away to the way to the way. night. You must not seek for me there again. You are going away, dear angel. Then I shall follow you.

You will follow me. How can you think of it? And how about the blues? Ah, Marie, my beloved, what connection is there between the blues and our love? But it seems to me that it is difficult for you to remain in France beside me, and still more difficult for you to leave it with me. Is there anything impossible for a lover who is in earnest? Yes, I believe that everything is possible. Have I not had the courage to give you up for your own sake? What? You give yourself to a horrible being whom you did not love,

and you will not make the happiness of a man who worships you, A man whose life you would fill, who would swear to be yours forever and your only. Listen to me, Marie. Do you love me? Yes, she said. Then be mine. Have you forgotten that I resumed my vile part of Cortizan, and that it is you who must be mine?

If I am determined to fly from you, it is in order that I may not draw down upon your head the scorn that may be poured on mine. Perhaps, but for that fear. But if I fear nothing, who will convince me of it? I am distrustful. Who in my position would not be distrustful? If the love that each of us inspires in the other cannot last, let it at least be absolute so that we may joyfully sustain the burden of the world's injustice.

What have you done for my sake? You desire me. Do you think that that raises you very much above the level of others who have hitherto seen me? Have you risked your show-ins for an hour's happiness, taking no more thought for them than I once took for the blues that were murdered when everything was lost for me? And what if I were to bid you renounce your ideas, your hopes, your king, of whom I am jealous, and who perhaps will deride you when you die for him, while I could die for you as a sacred duty? How if I required you to make your submission to the First Consul, so that you might follow me to Paris?

How if I ordained that we should go to America? that we might live far away from a world where all is vanity, so that I might know whether you really love me for my own sake, as I love you at this moment. To sum it all up in a word, if I set myself to drag you down to my level, instead of raising myself to yours, what would you do?

Hush, Marie, do not slander yourself. Poor child, I have read your thoughts. If my first desire became passion, so my passion is now turned into love. Dear soul of my soul, you are as noble as your name. Your soul is as lofty as you are beautiful. I know it now. My name is noble enough, and I feel that I myself am great enough to compel the world, to except you. Is this because I feel a presentiment of undreamed-of happiness without an end with you?

Is it because I feel that I recognize in you the priceless qualities of soul that constrain us to love one woman forever? I don't know why it is, but my love is infinite, and I feel that I can no longer live without you, that my life would be loathsome to me if you were not always near me. What do you mean by near you? Oh, Marie, you will not understand your Alphonse. Ah, do you think to honor me greatly by offering me your name and your hand? She asked in seeming disdain, fixing her steady eyes upon the marquis, as if to detect his every thought.

And do you know whether you will love me in six months' time? And what would be my outlook then? No, no. A mistress is the only woman who can be certain of the reality of the feeling that a man shows for her. Duty and legal sanctions and the world and the common interest of children are but sorry aids to her power. For if it is lasting, her pride in it and her happiness will enable her to endure the heaviest

troubles the world can give. To be your wife and incur the risk of one day being burdensome to you, rather than face that fear, I choose a transient love, but a love that is true while it lasts, though it should lead to death and misery in the end. Yes, better than any other could I be a virtuous mother and a devoted wife, but if such sentiments are to dwell for long in a woman's heart, a man must not marry her in a fit of passion. Besides this, do I myself know that I shall care for you tomorrow?

No, I will not bring trouble upon you. I am about to leave Brittany, she said as she noticed that he wavered. I am going back to Paris, and you must not go thither in search of me. Well then, if on the morning of the day after to-morrow you see smoke rising from the crags of Saint-Sou-Pice, I shall be with you in the evening. I will be your lover, your husband, whatever you would have me be. I shall have dared all things. Oh, Afonse, she cried in her intoxication.

Do you love me so well that you will risk your life for me in this way before you make it mine? He made no answer. He looked at her and she lowered her eyes. But from his mistress's eager face, he knew that her fevered frenzy equaled his own, and he held out his arms to her. Carried away by this madness, Marie was about to sink back languidly upon Montaureen's breast, determined that the surrender of herself

should be an error that should bring her the greatest happiness since in this way she risked her whole future, which would have been more certain if she had issued victorious from this final ordeal. But as she laid her head on her lover's shoulder, A faint sound echoed outside the house. She tore herself away from him as if she had been suddenly aroused from sleep and sprang out of the hovel.

This enabled her to recover her self-possession to some extent and to think over her situation. He would have taken me and perhaps have laughed at me afterwards, she said to herself, Ah, if I could bring myself to believe that I would kill him. Ah, not just yet, she added as she caught sight of Beaupier, and made a sign which the soldier understood with wonderful quickness. The poor fellow turned on his heel at once and made as though he had seen nothing. Mademoiselle de Vernaut went suddenly back into the hut, with the first finger of her right hand laid upon her lips in a way that recommended silence to the young chief.

They are there, she said, and her voice was low with horror. Who is there? The blues. Ah, will not die without— Yes, take it. He clasped her, as she stood there cold and powerless, and pressed upon her lips a kiss full of rapture and of ghastly fear, for it might be at once the first kiss.

and the last. Then together they stood upon the threshold of the door, with their heads in such a position that they could watch everything without being seen. The Marquis saw Goudin at the head of a dozen men holding the foot of the Cueninand Valley. Then he turned and looked along the vista of Eichaliers. Seven soldiers were on guard over the great rotten tree trunk. He climbed upon the cask of cider and broke a hole through the shingle roof, so as to spring out onto the knoll behind the house, but he quickly drew back his head through the gap he had just made, for Ullo, on the summit, had cut off the way to Fugier. He looked for a moment at his mistress, who uttered a despairing cry,

for she heard the tramp of the three detachments who had met at last about the house. Go out first, he said, you will save my life. For her those words were sublime, full of happiness she went and stood in the doorway while the marquis caught his blunderbuss. The gar calculated the distance between the cabin door and the echelier, suddenly confronted the seven blues, riddled the group with shot, and made his way through their midst. All three detachments flung themselves upon the echelier that the chief had just cleared,

only to see him running across the field with incredible swiftness. Fire! Fire! In the devil's name! You are no Frenchman! Fire! You wretches! Thundered Ullo! As he called these words from the top of the know-all, his own men and Goudin's troop fired a volley point-blank, which luckily was badly aimed. The Marquis had already reached the Eichelier at the other end of the nearest field, and was just entering the next,

when he was all but overtaken by Goudin, who had flung himself after him in hot pursuit. When the Gah heard the footsteps of his formidable antagonist, not many yards behind him, he redoubled his speed. But in spite of this, both Goudin and the Marquis'an, Riquet reached the third echelier almost at the same time. Monteron adroitly flung his blunderbuss at Gudin's head and struck the countershoen a blow that made him slacken his pace. It is impossible to describe Marie's agony of mind and the intense interest with which Ullo and his troops watched this spectacle, each one unconsciously imitating the gestures of the two runners in a dead silent.

The Gha and Goudin both reached the screen of cops, now white with Horfrost, when the officer suddenly fell back and disappeared behind an apple tree. Some score of Schuans, who had not dared to fire for fear of killing their leader, now appeared and riddled the tree with balls. All Ullo's little band set out at a run to rescue Goudin, who, being with a little band, who, being with a little band, weapons fled towards them from one apple-tree to another, choosing the moments when the chasseur-de-roix were reloading for his flight. He was not long in jeopardy. The counter-shoe-uns joined the blues, and with Ulloe at their head they came to the young officer's assistance just at the place where the marquis had flung away his blunderbuss. As they came up, Goudin caught a glimpse of his foe.

who was sitting exhausted beneath one of the trees and the little copse, and leaving his comrades to shoot from behind their cover at the Schoens, who were entrenched behind a hedge along the side of the field, he made a circuit round them and went in the direction of the Marquis with the eagerness of a beast of prey. When the Chasseur du Rois saw his maneuver, they uttered fearful yells to warn their chief of his danger. Then, after firing around at the countershoens, with poacher's luck, they tried to hold

their own against them. But the counter-shoeans boldly climbed the bank which served their enemies as a rampart and took a murderous revenge. Upon this, the shoe-ins made for the road that ran beside the enclosure in which the skirmish had taken place and made themselves masters of the high ground, abandoned by a blunder of Ullo's. Before the blues knew where they were, the Chouins had entrenched themselves

among the gaps in the crests of the rocks, and thus sheltered, they could pick off Ullo's men in safety should the latter show any disposition to follow them thither, and thus prolonged the fight. Whilst Ullo and a few of his soldiers were going slowly towards the cops in search of Goudin,

the men of Fugier, stayed behind to strip the dead and dispatch the living Schuans, for no prisoners were made on either side in this terrible war. The Marquis being in safety, both Schuans and Blues recognized the strength of their respective positions and the futility of continuing the struggle, so that neither party now thought of anything but of beating a retreat. If I lose this young man, Ullo exclaimed as he carefully scanned the cops, I will never make another friend.

Oh, oh, said one of the lads from Fugier, there's a bird here with yellow feathers, and he held up for his fellow countryman's inspection a purse full of gold pieces that he had just found in the pocket of a stout man in black clothes. But what have we here? another as he drew a breviary from the dead man's overcoat. Here be holy goods, this is a priest, he exclaimed as he flung the breviary down. The robber, he will make bankrupts of us, said a third, who had only found two crowns of six francs each in the pockets of the shoe-in that he was stripping.

Yes, but he has a famous pair of shoes, said. a soldier who made as though he would help himself to them. You shall have them if they fall to your share, a Fugéry answered, as he dragged them off the feet of the dead Shouan and flung them down on a pile of goods already heaped together. A fourth counter-shuwen took charge of the money so as to divide it when the soldiers belonging to the party should return. came back with the young officer, whose last attempt to come up with the gha had been as useless as it was dangerous, and found a score of his own men and some thirty countershoens

standing round eleven of their dead foes whose bodies had been flung into a furrow below the hedge. Soldiers! Ullo shouted sternly, I forbid you to take any part of those rags, fall in and sharp about it. It is all very well about the money, Commandant, said one of the men, exhibiting for Ullo's benefit a pair of shoes out of which his five bare toes were protruding. But those shoes would fit me like a glove, he went on, pointing the butt-end of his gun at the pair of iron-bound shoes before him.

So you want a pair of English shoes on your feet? was Ullo's reply. But ever since the war began, we have always shared the booty, began one of the Fujore in a respectful voice. Ullo broke in upon him roughly with, You fellows can follow your customs, I make no objection. Wait a bit, Goudin, there is a purse here, and it is not so badly off for Louise.

You have been at some trouble, so your chief will not object to your taking it," said one of his old comrades addressing the officer. Ullo, in annoyance, looked at Goudin, and saw him turn pale. It is my uncle's purse, the young fellow exclaimed. Exhausted and weary as he was, he went a step or two towards the heap of bodies, and the first that met his eyes happened to be that. of his own uncle. He had scarcely caught sight of the florid face, now furrowed with bluish lines, of the gunshot wound and the stiffened arms, when a smothered cry broke from him,

and he said, Let us march, commandant. The blues set off, Ullo supporting his young friend who leaned upon his arm. Tarnardadieu, said the old soldier, never mind but he is dead goudin replied he is dead he was the only relation i had left and though he cursed me he was fond of me if the king had come back the whole country would have wanted my head but the old fellow's cassock would have screened me what a fool remarked the national guards who stayed behind to divide the booty the old boy was well off, and as things fell out, he had not time to make a will to disinherit his nephew. When the plunder had been divided, the countershoens started after the little battalion of Blues and followed them after a distance.

As the day wore away, there was a dreadful sense of uneasiness in Galop Chopin's hovel, where life had hitherto been so simple and so free from anxiety. barbette and her little lad went home at the hour when the family usually took their evening meal the one bore a heavy burden of furs and the other a bundle of fodder for the cattle mother and son entered the hut and looked round in vain for gallop chopin never had their wretched room looked so large to them nor seemed so empty the fireless hearth the darkness and the stillness all foreboded calamity of some kind. At nightfall, Barbette hastened to light a bright fire and two Oribus, for so they call their resin candles in the country that lies between the shores of Armorica and the district of the Upper Loire, and the word is in use even on this side of amboise in the Vando-Mois.

Barbette said about her preparations with the deliberation that characterizes all actions performed under the influence of deep feeling. She listened to the slightest sound. The wailing of the gusts of wind often deceived her, and brought her to the door of her wretched hovel, only that she might go sadly back again. She rinsed a couple of pitchers, filled them with cider, and set them on the long table of walnut wood.

Again and again she looked at her little boy, who was watching the baking of the bucket, wheat cakes, but she could not bring herself to speak a word to him. Once the little lad fixed his eyes upon the nails in the wall, from which his father was wont to hang his duck gun, and Barbette shuddered when she noticed, as he had also noticed, that the space was vacant. The silence was unbroken, save for the lowing of the cows, and the sound at regular intervals of the drippings from the cider barrel.

The poor woman sighed as she poured out into three brown earthenware porringers, a sort of soup made of milk, cakes cut into dice and cooked chestnuts. They fought in the field that belongs to la bero de air, said the little boy. Go and have a look there, his mother answered. The little fellow ran on,

and made out the faces of the heap of dead by the moonlight. His father was not among them, and he came back whistling joyfully, for he had picked up a few coins that the victors had overlooked and trampled into the mud. He found his mother busy spinning hemp, seated upon a stool by the fireside. He shook his head at the sight of Barbet, who did not dare to believe in any good news. it was ten o'clock by st leonard's church and the little fellow went to bed after lisping his prayer to the holy virgin of au rea at daybreak barbette who had not slept all night gave a cry of joy as she heard a sound in the distance that she recognized it was gallop chopin's step and his heavy iron-bound shoes and he himself soon showed his sullen countenance thanks to st labra to whom i have promised a fine wax candle the gar is saved do not forget that we now owe three candles to the saint

with that gallop schopen seized upon a pitcher and gulped down the contents without taking a breath when his wife had put the soup before him and had helped him to rid himself of his duck gun he seated himself on the bench of walnut wood and said as he drew near the fire. How could the blues and countershoens have come here? There was a fight going on at Flourini. What devil can have told them that the ghar was in our house? Nobody knew about it except us and the gaw and that pretty lass of his. The woman turned pale. The counter-shoons made me believe that they were the gar from St. George. She-me. made answer, trembling, and I myself told them where the gah was. Now it was Galop Chopin's turn to grow pale. He set his Porringer down on the edge of the table.

I sent our little chap to warn you, the terrified Barbette went on. He didn't find you. The schoen rose to his feet and dealt his wife such a violent blow that she fell back half dead upon the bed. accursed garrs he said you have killed me then terror seized him and he took his wife in his arms barbette he cried barbett holy virgin my hand was too heavy do you think that marcha ter will get to know about it she said when she opened her eyes again the gar has given orders for an inquiry to be made so as to know where the treachery came from, answered the Schoen. Did he tell Marcheter?

Pia Mersh and Marcieteer were at Flourinié. Barbette breathed more freely. If they touch a single hair of your head, she said, I will rinse their glasses with vinegar. Ah, I have no appetite now, Galop Chopin exclaimed dejectedly. his wife set another full pitcher before him but he gave no heed to it two great tears left their traces on barbette's cheeks and moistened the wrinkles on her withered face listen wife to-morrow morning you must make a heap of fagots on the crags of st so peace to the right of st leonard and set fire to them that is the signal agreed upon between the gar and the old rector of st george who will come and say a mass for him

is he going to fuger yes he is going to see his pretty lass and on that account i shall have running about to do to-day i am pretty sure that he means to marry her and to take her away with him for he told me to hire horses and to have them ready all along the st malo road thereupon galopiopjeopin being tired out went to bed for a few hours and afterwards went about his errands he came in again the next morning having faithfully carried out the marquis instructions and when he learned that marcheter and piomiche had not put in an appearance he dispelled his wife's fears so that she set out for the crags asensopi with an almost easy mind. On the previous evening she had made a pile of fagots, now white with rhyme, upon the knoll that faced the suburb of Saint-Leonar. She held her child by the hand, and the little fellow carried some glowing ashes in a broken sabot. End of Section 25. Section 26 of the Shouins by Honore de Balzac, translated by Ellen marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Read by Bruce Piri, Chapter 3K.

His wife and son had hardly disappeared behind the shed when Galop Chopin heard two men jump over the last of the series of East Chaliers. By degrees, he made out two angular figures, looking like vague shadows in a tolerably thick fog. There are Piamish and Marchetian. he said within himself and trembled as the two showans showed their dark countenances in the little yard beneath their huge battered hats they looked not unlike the foreground figures that engravers put into landscapes good day gallop chopin said marcheterre soberly good day monsieur marcheterre barbette's husband respectfully answered will you come in side and empty a pitcher or two. I have some cold cakes and fresh butter here.' "'That is not to be refused, cousin,' said Pia Mish, and the two Shouans came in. There was nothing to alarm Galop Chopin in this beginning.

He hastened to his great cider butt and filled three pitchers, while Marciateur and Pia Mish, seated upon the polished bench on either side of the long table, cut slices of the cake, for themselves, and spread them with the rich yellow butter that exuded little beads of milk under the pressure of the knife. Galop Shopeen set the foaming pitchers full of cider before his visitors, and the three Schoens fell too. But from time to time the master of the house cast a side-long glance at Marciateur as he eagerly satisfied his thirst.

"'Pass me your snuff-box,' Marciateur remarked to Pia-Mish. the breton gave it a few vigorous shakes till several pinches lay in the hollow of his hand then he snuffed the powdered tobacco like a man who wished to fortify himself for serious business it is cold pia mish remarked and rose to shut the upper part of the door the dim foggy daylight now only entered the room through the little window so that only the table and the two benches were faintly visible, but the red glow of the firelight filled the place. Gallop Choppine had just refilled the pictures and had set them before his guests, but they declined to drink, flung their large hats aside, and suddenly assumed a solemn expression. This gesture and the look by which they took counsel of each other sent a shudder through Galop Chopin, who seemed to read thoughts of bloodshed lurking beneath those who,

red-wollen bonnets. Bring us your hatchet, said Marciateur. But what do you want with it, Monsieur Maratire? Come, cousin, you know quite well that you are doomed, said Pia Mish,

putting away the snuff-box that Marciateur had returned to him. Both of the shawans got up and seized their carbines. Monsieur Maratier, I did not say one word about the gar. Get your hatchet, I tell you, was the Shouin's answer.

The wretched Galopchopjeopjean stumbled over his child's rough bedstead and three five-franc pieces fell out onto the floor. Pia Mish picked them up. Oh, the blues have given you new coin, cried Marcheterre. I have not said one word. That is as true as that. that St. Labrude's image stands there," Gallop Schopen replied. Barbette mistook the counter-shuans for the gar from St. George.

That was all. Why do you pray about your business to your wife? Marchetair answered roughly. And besides, we don't ask you for excuses, cousin. We want your hatchet. You are doomed. At a sign from his comrade, Pia Mish helped him to seize the victim.

Galop Schopen's courage broke down when he found himself in the hands of the Shouans. He fell on his knees and held up his despairing hands to his executioners. Good friends, he cried, and you, cousin, what will become of my little lad? I will look after him, said Marciateur. Dear comrades, Galop Shopin began again. with blanched cheeks. I am not ready for death. Will you send me out of the world without shrift?

You have the right to take my life, but you have no right to rob me of eternal bliss. That is true, said Marcietere as he looked at Pia Mish. The two shewans remained in this most awkward predicament for a moment or two in utter inability to resolve the case of conscience. Galop Chopin, meanwhile, listened to this latest noise made by the wind, as if he had not yet lost all hope. He looked mechanically at the cider-but. The regular sound of the dripping leakage made him heave a melancholy sigh.

Suddenly Pi Amish clutched the sufferer's arm, drew him into a corner, and said to him, "'Confess your sins to me. I will repeat them to a priest of the true church, and he will give me absolution. If there is any penance, I will do it for you. Galop Schopen obtained some respite by the way in which he made his confession, but in spite of the number of his sins and the full account which he gave of them, he came at last to the end of the list. Alas, he said when he had finished,

since I am speaking to you, my cousin, as to a confessor, I affirm to you, by the holy name of God, that I have nothing to reproach myself with, unless it is that I have now and then buttered my bread a little too well. And I call St. Labr over there above the chimney-piece to bear witness that I have not said a word about the gar. No, my friends, I did not betray him. All right, get up, cousin.

You will explain all that to the boulder when the time comes. Let me say one little word of goodbye to Barb— Come now, said Marcheterre. If you want us not to think more ill of you than we can help, behave yourself like a Breton, and die decently. The two shewans seized Valapius. Chopin again, and stretched him on the bench, where he lay making no sign of resistance, save convulsive movements prompted by physical fear. There was a heavy thud of the hatchet and a sudden end of his smothered cries.

His head had been struck off at a blow. Marsha-Ther took it up by a lock of hair and went out of the hut. He looked about him and found a great nail in the door-wall. about which he twisted the strand of hair, and so suspended the bloody head, without even closing the eyes. The two shoe-ins washed their hands leisurely in a great earthen pan full of water, put on their hats, took up their carbines, and sprang over the echelier, whistling the tune of the ballad of the captain.

At the end of the field Pia Miche began in a hoarse voice to sing some odd stanzas of the simple poem. The first town that they came unto her lover has lated down, and he has clad that bonny lass in a milk-white satin gown. The next town that they came unto he has lighted her lover bold, and he has clad here in white silver and in the ruddy gold. But when she came to his regiment so fair a maid to greet, they have taken webs of the silken cloth to spread them beneath her feet.

As the shoe-ins went farther and farther away, the tune grew less distinct, but there was such a deep silence over the countryside that a note here and there reached Barbette as she returned to the cabin, holding her little boy by the hand. No peasant woman can hear this song with indifference so popular is it in the west of France. Barbet, therefore, unconsciously took up the earlier verses of the ballad. We must away, Monny Lassie, for we have far to ride. We must away to the wars, Lassie, I may no longer bide. Spare thy trouble, O bold captain, save that treason give her thee.

She shall not be thine in any land, nor yet upon the sea. Her father has stripped her of her weed, and flung her into the way. but the captain has swum out cannelly his lady love to save. We must away, Bonnie Lassie, etc. Barbette came into her yard, just as she had reached the place in the ballad at which Pia Mish had taken it up. Her tongue was suddenly petrified. She stood motionless, and a loud cry which she instantly repressed came from her open mouth. Mother dear, what is the matter? asked the little one.

You must go alone, cried Barbette in a choking voice, as she withdrew her hand from his and pushed him from her with indescribable roughness. You have a father and mother no longer. The child rubbed his shoulder, but he caught sight of the head, as he cried, and though his pink and white face was still puckering. heard by the nervous twitch that tears give to the features, he grew silent. He stared, wide-eyed for a long while at his father's head, with a stolid expression that revealed no emotion whatever.

His face brutalized by ignorance, at last came to wear a look of savage curiosity. At last Barbette suddenly took her child's hand in a powerful grip and hurried him into the house. One of Galop Chopin's shoes had fallen off when Piomish and Marciateur had stretched him on the bench. It had lain beneath his neck and was filled with blood. This was the first thing that met the widow's eyes. Take off your sabo, the mother said to her son, and put your foot in that.

Good. always remember your father's shoe," she cried in piteous tones. Never set a shoe on your foot without remembering how this one was full of blood that the shoe-wens spilt and kill the shoe-wens. She shook her head so violently as she spoke that the long locks of her black hair fell about her throat and gave her face a sinister look. I call Saint-Labre to witness, she went on, that I dedicate you to the Blues. You shall be a soldier so that you may avenge your father.

Kill them, kill the showans, and do as I do. Oh, they have taken my husband's head, and I will give the head of the Gar to the Blues. She sprang to the bed at a bound, drew a little bag of money from its hiding-place, took her astonished child by the hand, and dragged him forcibly with her, not even leaving him time to put on his sabo again. Then they both set out for Fugier at a quick pace, neither of them giving a look behind them at the cottage they were forsaking. When they reached the summit of the crags of Sainso-Pice, Barbette stirred

up her fire of faggots, and her little son helped her to pile on bushes of green broom with the rhyme upon them so as to increase the volume of smoke. That will outlast your father's life and mine and the garas, too, said Barbette savagely, as she pointed out the fire to her child. While Galopchopin's widow and son, with his foot, died in blood, were watching the Eddie smoke wreaths with brooding looks of vengeance and curiosity, Mademoiselle de Vernais's eyes were fastened on the crag. She tried, in vain, to discern the signal there of which the Marquis had spoken.

The fog had grown gradually denser, and the whole district was enveloped in a gray veil that hid the outlines of the landscape, even at a little distance from the town. She looked with fond anxiety at the crags and the castle, and at the buildings that loomed through the heavy air like darker masses of the fog itself. A few trees round about her window stood out against the bluish background, like branching corals dimly seen in the depths of a calm sea. The sun had given to the sky the yellowish hues of tarnished silver, its rays shed a vague red color over the bare branches of the trees, where a few last withered leaves were hanging yet.

But Marie felt an agitation of soul too delightful to allow her to draw dark auguries from this scene. It was too much out of harmony with the happiness to come, of which, in thought, she took her fill. Her ideas had altered strangely in the past two days. Slowly, the fierceness and uncontrolled outbursts of her passions had been subdued by the influence of the even warmth that true love brings into a life. The certain knowledge that she was beloved, for which she had sought through so many perils, had awakened in her a desire to return within the world. the limits in which society sanctions happiness, limits which despair alone had led her to

overstep. A love that only lasts for the space of a moment seemed to her to betoken weakness of soul. She had a sudden vision of herself withdrawn from the depths wherein misfortune had plunged her and restored again to the high position in which she had been placed by her father. her vanity awoke after being repressed by the cruel vicissitudes of the passion that had met at times with happiness and again at times with scorn she saw all the advantages conferred by an exalted rank when she was married to monteron and came into the world so to speak as a marquise would she not live and act in the same sphere to which she naturally belonged. She could appreciate better than other women the greatness of the feelings and thoughts

that underlie family life, for she had known the chances of a life of continual adventure. The responsibilities and cares of marriage and motherhood would for her be a rest rather than a burden. She looked forward longingly through the world. this last storm, to a quiet and virtuous life, as a woman tired of virtuous conduct might give a covetous glance at an illicit passion. Virtue for her possessed a new attraction. She turned away from the window for she could not see the fire on the crag's assessal piece. Perhaps I have coquetted overmuch with him, but was it not in this way that I learned,

How well I was beloved! Francine, it is a dream no longer. Tonight I shall be the Marquise de Montaureen. What can I have done to deserve such entire happiness? Oh, I love him, and love alone can requite love. And yet it is God's purpose, doubtless, to reward me, because I have kept so much love in my heart through so many miseries, and to make me forget all that I have suffered, for I have suffered greatly, as you know, dear child.

You, Marie, you, tonight, the Marquise de Montereau. Ah, until it is over and done, I shall think that I am dreaming. Who taught him to know your worth? But he has not only a handsome face, dear child, he has a soul, too. If you had seen him in danger as I did, ah, he is so brave he needs must know how to love well. If you love him so much, why do you allow him to come to Fugier? Had we time to say a word to each other before we were surprised?

Besides that, is it not one more proof of his love? Can one ever have enough of them? do my hair. He will not be here yet. But stormy thoughts still mingle themselves with the anxieties of coquetry, and again and again she spoiled the carefully arranged effects as her hair was dressed by movements that seemed to be electric. As she shook out a curl into waves or smoothed the glossy plates,

a trace of mistrust made her. to ask herself whether the Marquis was playing her false. And then came the thought that such baseness would be unfathomable, for in coming to seek her at Fugierre he had boldly laid himself open to swift and condine punishment. She studied keenly in the mirror the effects of a side glance, of a smile, of a slight contraction of her brows, of a gesture of anger, scorers. or love, seeking in this way for a woman's while that should probe the young chief's heart even at the last moment. You are right, Francine, said she. Like you, I wish that the marriage was over. This is the last of my overclouded days.

It is big with my death or our happiness. This fog is detestable. she added looking afresh at the summits of senso piece that were still hidden from her with her own hands she arranged the curtains of silk and muslin that draped the window taking a pleasure in shutting out the daylight and so producing a soft gloom in the chamber take away those knick-knacks that cover the chimney-piece francine she said leave nothing there but the clock and the two dresden vases i myself will put into them those winter flowers that corinthe found for me take all the chairs out of the room i only care to keep the arm-chair and the sofa and when you have done these things child brush the carpet to make the colours look brighter and put candles in the sconces by the fire side and in the candlesticks. Marie looked long and closely at the ancient tapestry that covered the walls of the room. Her innate taste discovered among the vivid colors of the warp the hues which could serve to bring this decoration of a bygone day into harmony with the furniture and accessories

of the boudoir, hues which either repeated their colors or made a charming contrast with them. The same idea pervaded her arrangement of the flowers with which she filled the fantastic vases about the room. The sofa was drawn up to the fire. Upon two gilded tables on either side of the bed which stood near the wall opposite to the chimney-piece, she set great Dresden vases filled with leafage and sweet-scented flowers. More than once she trembled as she arranged the voluminous folds of green silver. brocade about the bed, and followed with her eyes the curving lines of the flowered pattern

on the coverlet which she laid over it. About such preparations there is an indefinable secret happiness, a delightful stimulation that causes a woman to forget all her doubts in the pleasure of her task, as Mademoiselle de Verne did at this moment. Is there not a kind of religious sentiment about the innumerable pains thus undertaken to please a beloved being, who is not there to behold them and to recompense them, but who must, later on, feel the significance of these charming preparations and repay them with an approving smile?

In moments like these women give themselves up to love in advance, so to speak. is not one who does not say to herself, as Mademoiselle de Vernau said in her thought, I shall be very happy to-night. The most innocent among them at such times sets this sweet hope in the least folds of the silk or muslin and the harmony that she establishes about her steeps the whole of her surroundings in an atmosphere of love. All things in this delicious world of her creation become living beings and onlookers. She already makes them accomplices in her happiness to come.

At each movement and at each thought she grows bold to rob the future. Soon her hopes and expectations cease, and she reproaches the silence. She must needs take the slightest sound for a presage. till doubt at last sets his talons in her heart, and she feels the torture of a burning thought that surges within her, and that brings something like a physical strain to bear upon her. Without the sustaining hope of joy she could never bear those alternations of exaltation and of anguish. Time after time, Mademoiselle de Vernaud had drawn the curtains aside, hoping,

to see a column of smoke rising above the rocks, but the fog appeared to grow grayer every moment until at last its grisly hues affected her imagination and seemed to be full of evil augury. In a moment of impatience she let the curtain fall and vowed to herself that she would not raise it again. She looked discontentedly round the room for which she had found a soul and a languor. asked herself whether her preparations had all been made in vain, and fell to pondering over them at the thought. She drew Francine into the adjoining dressing-closet, in which there was a round casement looking out upon the dimly visible corner of the cliffs where the fortifications of the

town joined the rocks of the promenade. Little one, she said, put this in order for me, and let everything be. be fresh and neat, you may leave the salon in disorder, if you will, she added, with one of the smiles that women keep for those who know them best, with a subtle delicacy in it that men can never understand. Ah, how lovely you look, cried the little Breton maid. Ah, fools that we all are, is not our lover, our fairest ornament. Froncine left her stretched languidly on the sofa.

As she went out slowly, step by step, she began to see that whether her mistress was beloved or no, she would never betray Montau-Ront-Ront-Rae. End of Section 26 Section 27 of the Shouans by Honoré de Balzac. Translated by Alan Marriage, this Librevox recording is in the public domain. Bruce Peary. Chapter 3L. Are you sure about this yarn of yours, old woman? said Ullo to Barbette, who had recognized him as she came into Fugierre. Have you eyes in your head? There, look over there at the rocks of Saint-Saint-Soup-master,

to the right of Saint-Lé-Lena. Carantin scanned the ridge in the direction indicated by Barbette's finger. The fog began to clear off a little so that he could distinctly see the column of pale smoke, of which Galub Shopeen's widow had spoken. But when is he coming, eh, old woman, this evening or tonight? I know nothing about it, Master, Barbette answered. Why do you betray your own side? asked Ullo sharply, when he had drawn the peasant woman a few paces away from Coral. Ah, my lord general, look at my lad's foot.

See, it is dipped in my husband's blood. The shoe-wins butchered him like a calf, begging your pardon, to punish him for those three words that you got out of me when I was at work the day before yesterday. Take my gah, since you have made him fatherless and motherless, but make a thorough blue of him, master, so that he may kill many shu-uns. look here are two hundred crowns take charge of them for him with care they ought to last him a long time for it took his father twelve years to get them together ullo stared in amazement at the peasant woman her wrinkled face was white and her eyes were tearless but what will become of you yourself mother it would be better if you took charge of the money yourself she shook her head sadly i need nothing more now you might clap me into the dungeons below melasina's tower there and she pointed to one of the towers of the castle and the shewans would find means to get at me and kill me there

she clasped her little lad in her arms and her brow was dark with pain as she looked at him two tears fell from her eyes and with one more look at him she vanished Commandant, said Coranta, here is an opportunity, and if we mean to profit by it, we shall require two hard heads rather than one. We know everything and yet we know nothing. If we were to encompass Mademoiselle de Vernauie's house at once, we should set her against us, and you and I and your countershoens and both your battalions all put together would be no match for that girl if she has taken it into a her head to save her Cedevan. The fellow is a courtier, and consequently he is crafty.

He is a young man, moreover, and metalsome. We could never get possession of him as he enters Fugier. He may possibly be in Fugier already. And as for making domiciliary visits, the thing would be absurd. We should not take anything by it. It would give the alarm, and it would play great. the townspeople. I shall order the sentry on guard at St. Leonard to lengthen his round by two or three paces, said Ullo, out of patience. In that way he will come in front of Mademoiselle de Vernau's house. I shall arrange for every sentinel to give a signal, and I myself shall wait in the guardhouse. Then, when they let me know that any young man whatever has entered the town, I shall

take a corporal and four men with me, and—' And how if the young man is not the Marquis after all? said Corantin, interrupting the impetuous soldier. How if the Marquis enters by none of the gates, if he is in Mademoiselle de Vernaud's house already? If, if— Corantin looked at the commandant with an air of superiority, in which there was something so offensive that the old soldier exclaimed,

"'Mil, honor, de de de de de de de de de dee, go about your business, citizen of hell. What is all that to me? If this cockchafer tumbles into one of my guard-houses, there is no help for it, but I must shoot him. If I hear that he is in a house, there is no help for it, but I must search the house and take him and shoot him. But the devil fetch me if I will cudgel my brains to soil my uniform. Commandant, the letter from the three ministers orders you to obey Mademoiselle de Vernais. Let her come to me, herself, citizen, and then I will see what I will do.

Very good, citizen, Coranta answered stiffly. She will not be very long about it. She shall tell you herself the hour and the minute when the sea de vaan comes. Possibly she will not be content until she has seen you post the sentries and surround her house. He is the devil incarnate, said Ullo plaintively, as he watched Quarantin stride back up the queen's staircase, where all this had taken place, and reached St. Leonard's gate. He is for betraying the citizen Montaurenton to me, bound hand and foot. The chief of Demi Brigade went on, speaking to himself, and I shall have the plague of presiding at a court-martial.

After all, said he, with a shrug of his shoulders, the guy is an enemy of the Republic. He killed my poor friend Gerard, and in any case he is an aristocrat. But the devil take it!' He turned quickly on his heel and set out to go the rounds of the town, whistling the Marseillaise as he went. Mademoiselle de Vernau was steeped in those musings whose secrets lie buried, as it were, in the inmost depths of the soul. Musings made up of numberless thoughts and emotions at war with one another, which have on often proved to those who have suffered from them that a stormy and passionate life may

be lived within four walls, nay, without even leaving the Ottoman wherein whereon existence is burning itself away. The girl who was now face to face with the catastrophe of a drama of her own seeking reviewed each scene of love or anger that had stimulated life so powerfully during the ten days that had elapsed since she first met the marquis. While she mused, the sound of a man's footstep, echoing in the adjoining salon, made her tremble. The door opened, she turned her head quickly, and saw Quarantan.

Little trickster, said the superior agent of police, so you still have a mind to deceive me. Oh, Marie, Marie, you are playing a very dangerous game when you detainee. determine on the strokes without consulting me, and do not attach me to your interests, if the Marquis has escaped his fate. It has been through no fault of yours, is that not what you mean? said Mademoiselle Verneau with poignant irony. What right have you to enter my house a second time? She went on severely.

Your house, he queried in bitter tones. you remind me she replied with dignity that i am not in my own house perhaps you deliberately chose it out so that you might the more surely do your murderous work here i will go out of it i would go out into a desert rather than receive spies speak out korenton concluded but this house is neither yours nor mine It belongs to the government, and as for leaving it, he added, with a diabolical glance at her, you will do nothing of the kind. An indignant impulse brought Mademoiselle de Vernau to her feet. She made a step or two towards him, but suddenly came to a standstill, for she saw Coranta raise the curtain over the window,

and the smile with which he asked her to join him. Do you see that column of smoke, he said, with the unshaken calmness which he knew how to preserve in his haggard face, however deeply his feelings had been stirred? What connection can there possibly be between my departure and those weeds that they are burning? she inquired. Why is your voice so changed? asked Coranta. poor little thing he added in gentle tones i know everything the marquis is coming to fujer today and you had no purpose in your mind of giving him up to us when you set this boudoir in such festive array with flowers and lights mademoiselle de vernon turned pale she read montaurein's death-warrant in the eyes of this tiger in human shape and the love within her for her lover grew to frenzy every hair of her head seemed to be a source of hideous and intolerable pain and she sat down upon the ottoman for a moment corinthin stood with his arms folded across his chest he was half pleased at the sight of a torture which avenged all the sarcasms and scorn that the woman before him had heaped upon his head

half vexed to see a being suffer whose yoke he had liked to bear heavily though it had lain on him she loves him he said in a smothered voice loves him she cried what does that word signify corinthe he is my life my soul my very breath The man's calmness appalled her. She flung herself at his feet. Sordid soul, she cried, I would rather abase myself to obtain his life than abase myself to take it. Save him I will at the price of every drop of blood in me. Speak.

What do you want? Corantin trembled. I came to take my orders from. from you, Marie. He said in dulcet tones as he raised her with polished grace. Yes, Marie, your insults will not check my devotion to you, provided that you never deceive me again. As you know, Marie, no one ever fools me and goes scathless.

Oh, if you want me to love you, Corantin, help me to see you. save him. Well, when is the Marquis coming? he said, forcing himself to ask the question calmly. Alas, I do not know. They both looked at each other in silence. I am lost, said Mademoiselle de Vernaud to herself. She is playing me false, thought Caronta. Marie, he went on.

I have two maxims. One is never to believe a word that women say, which is the way to avoid being gulled by them. And the other is always to seek to discover whether they have not some motive for doing the very opposite of the thing they say, and for behaving in a fashion the very reverse of the course of action which they are kind enough to do. disclosed to us in confidence. Now we understand each other, I think? Admirably, replied Mademoiselle de Vernauie.

You require proofs of my good faith, but I am holding them back until you shall give me proofs of yours. Goodbye, mademoiselle, said Coranta dryly. Come, the girl said, smiling at him. Sit down, seat yourself there and do not be sulky, or I shall readily find means to save the Marquis without your aid. As for the three hundred thousand francs that are always spread out before your eyes, I can lay them there upon the chimney-piece in gold for you the moment that the Marquis is in safety. Corantin rose to his feet, drew back several paces, and looked at Mademoiselle de Vernaille. You have grown rich in a very short time, said he, with ill-concealed bitterness in his tones.

Montereux himself could offer you very much more for his ransom, said Marie with a pitying smile. So prove to me that it is in your power to protect him against all. dangers, and— "'Could you not arrange for him to escape the very moment that he arrives?' Corenta exclaimed suddenly, for Ullo does not know the hour, and—' He broke off as though he blamed himself for having said too much. But can it be that you are asking me for a stratagem? He went on, smiling in the most natural manner.

listen marie i am certain of your good faith promise that you will make good to me all that i am losing by serving you and i will see that that blockhead of a commandant shall sleep so soundly that the marquis will be as much at liberty here in fujer as in st james itself i give you my word the girl said with a kind of solemnity not in that way though he said swear it by your mother mademoiselle de vernois shivered then she raised a trembling hand and took the oath the man required of her his manners underwent an instant change you may do what you will with me said coranta Do not deceive me, and you will bless me this evening. I believe you, Coranta, exclaimed Mademoiselle de Vernaut, quite softened towards him. She bowed graciously as she took leave of him, and there was a kindliness not unmingled with wonder in her smile when she saw the expression of melancholy tenderness on his face. What an entrancing creature!

cried Coranta as he withdrew. And is she never to be mine, never to be the instrument of my fortune and the source of my pleasures? To think that she should throw herself at my feet. Yes, the Marquis shall die, and if I can only obtain her by plunging her in the mire, I will thrust her down into it. Yet it is possible that she will, mistrust me no longer, he said to himself as he reached the square, whether he had unconsciously bent his steps. A hundred thousand crowns at a moment's notice. She thinks that I covet money.

It is a trick of hers, or else she has married him. Coronton did not venture to resolve on anything. He was lost in thought. The fog which the sun. The sun had partially dispelled at noon, gradually thickened again, and grew so dense at last that Coranta could no longer see the trees, though they were only a short distance from him. Here is a fresh piece of bad luck, he said to himself as he went slowly back to his lodging. It is impossible to see anything six paces off.

The weather is shielding our lovers. How is a house to be watched when it is enveloped in such a fog as this? Who goes there? He called, as he caught an arm belonging to some unknown person who had apparently scrambled up onto the promenade over the most dangerous places of the rock. It is I, was the guileless answer in a child's voice. Ah, it is the little red-foot lad. Do you not want to?

avenge your father? Karanta asked. Yes, cried the child. Good. Do you know the gar when you see him? Yes? Better still. Now keep with me and do exactly as I bid you in everything,

and you will finish your mother's work and earn some big pennies. Do you like big pennies? Yes. So you like big pennies and you want to kill the gah. I will take care of you. Now, Marie, Coranta said within himself after a pause, You shall give him up to us yourself. She is too impetuous to think calmly over the blow that I mean to give her.

And besides, passion never reflects. She does not know Montaureau's hand-writing now is the time to set the snare into which her nature will make her rush blindfold but ullo is necessary to me if my scheme is to succeed i will go and see him end of section twenty seven section twenty eight of the shawans by honorida bozac translated by ellen marriage this librivox recording is in the public domain read by Bruce Peary. Chapter 3M. Meanwhile, Mademoiselle de Vernaut and Francine were pondering devices for saving the Marquis from Courantin's dubious generosity and Ullo's bayonets. I will go and warn him, the little Breton maid cried. Mad, girl, do you know where he is? I, myself, with all the instincts of my heart to guide me,

might search a long while for him and never find him. after devising a goodly number of the wild schemes that are so easily carried out by the fireside mademoiselle de vernois exclaimed when i see him his peril will give me inspiration like all vehement natures she delighted in leaving her course undecided till the last moment trusting in her star or in the ready wit and skill that seldom deserts a woman perhaps nothing had ever wrung her heart so violently before sometimes she seemed to remain in a kind of stupor with her eyes set in a stare sometimes the slightest sound shook her from head to foot as some half-uprooted tree quivers violently when the woodman's rope about it drags it hastily to its fall there was a sudden loud report in the distance as a dozen guns were fired Mademoiselle de Vernau turned pale, caught Francine's hand, and said, I am dying, Francine. They have killed him. They heard the heavy footstep of a soldier in the salon,

and the terrified Francine rose to admit a corporal. The Republican made a military salute and presented Mademoiselle de Vernaud with some letters written on soiled paper. as he received no acknowledgement from the young lady to whom he gave them, he said, as he withdrew. They are from the commandant, madame. Mademoiselle de Vernaut, a prey to dark forebodings, read the letter which Ullo had probably written in haste. Mademoiselle, so it ran, my counter-shuans have seized one of the Gar's messengers, who has just been shot. among the letters thus intercepted is the one that i send which may be of some use to you etc heaven be thanked it was not he whom they killed she cried as she threw the letter into the fire she breathed more freely and eagerly read the note that had just been sent to her it was from the marquis and appeared to be addressed to madame de guas

No, my angel, this evening I shall not be at the Vivitier, and this evening you will lose your wager with the Count, for I shall triumph over the Republic in the person of this delicious girl, who is certainly worth a night, as you must agree. This is the only real advantage that I have gained in the campaign, for Lavande is submitting. there is nothing left for us to do in france and we will of course return to england together but serious business to-morrow the note slipped from her fingers she closed her eyes and lay back in absolute silence with her head propped by a cushion after a long pause she raised her eyes to the clock and read the hour it was four in the afternoon And my lord is keeping me waiting, she said with savage irony. Oh, perhaps he could not come, said Francine. If he does not come, said Marie in a smothered voice, I will go myself to find him.

But no, he cannot be much longer now. Francine, am I very beautiful? You are very pale. look round mademoiselle de vernon went on might not the perfumed room the flowers and the lights this intoxicating vapour and everything here give an idea of a paradise to him whom to-night i will steep in the bliss of love what is the matter mademoiselle i am betrayed deceived thwarted cheated duped and ruined i will kill him i will tear him in pieces oh yes there was always something contemptuous in his manner that he scarcely concealed but i would not see it oh this will kill me what a fool i am she laughed he is on his way and he is on his way And tonight I will teach him that whether wedded to me or no, the man who has possessed me can never forsake me afterwards.

My revenge shall be commensurate with his offense. He shall die in despair. I thought that there was something great in him, but he is the son of a lackey. There is no question of it. Truly he has deceived me cleverly. even now i can scarcely believe that the man who was capable of giving me up to pee a mish without mercy could condescend to trickery not unworthy of scapein it is so easy to dupe a loving woman that it is the lowest depth of baseness he might kill me well and good but that he should lie to me to me who had set him on eye, to the scaffold with him. I wish I could see him guillotined. Am I so very cruel?

He shall go to his death covered with kisses and caresses which will have been worth twenty years of life to him. Marie, said Francine, with angelic meekness, be the victim of your lover, as so many another has been, but do not be his mistress or his executioner. In the depths of your heart you can keep his image, and it need not make you cruel to yourself. If there were no joy in love when hope is gone, what would become of us, poor women, that we are? God, of whom you never think, Marie, will reward us for having submitted to our launch

upon earth, to our vocation of loving and suffering. Little puss, answered Mademoiselle de Verneux, as she stroked Francine's hand. Your voice is very sweet and very winning. Reason, when she takes your form, has many charms. How I wish that I could obey you. You will forgive him? You will not give him up? hush did not speak of that man any more corinthin is a noble creature compared with him do you understand me she rose to her feet her wild thoughts and unquenchable thirst for vengeance were concealed beneath the dreadful quietness of her face the very slowness of her measured footsteps seemed to betoken the fixed purpose in her mind in an indescribable way devouring this insult, tormented by her own thoughts, and too proud to own to the least of her pangs,

she went to the guard-house in St. Leonard's gate to ask to be directed to the Commandant's lodging. She had scarcely left the house when Quarantin entered it. Oh, Monsieur Corantin, cried Francine, if you are interested in that young man save him. Mademoiselle will give him up. This wretched paper has ruined everything. Quarantan took up the letter carelessly. Where is she gone?

He inquired. I do not know. I will hurry after her, he said, to save her from her own despair. He vanished, taking the letter with him. hurried out of the house with all speed and spoke to the little boy who was playing about before the door which way did the lady go when she went out just now gallop chopin's son went several paces with coranta and pointed out the steep road which led to st leonard's gate that way he said without hesitating faithful to the instinct of vengeance that his mother had inspired in him while he was speaking four men in disguise entered mademoiselle de vernaud's house but neither corin nor the little boy saw them

go back to your post the spy said look as though you were amusing yourself by turning the latches on the shutters but keep a sharp look-out in every direction even upon the roofs corinthins sped in the direction pointed out by the child he thought that he recognized mademoiselle de vernois in the fog and as a matter of fact he came up with her just as she reached st leonard's gate where are you going said he offering his arm to her you look pale what can have happened is it fitting for you to go out alone in this way take my arm where is the commandant she asked him mademoiselle de vernois had scarcely finished the sentence when she heard a reconnoitering party moving outside st leonard's gate and soon distinguished ullo's deep bass voice among the other confused sounds tonneur de dieu he exclaimed i have never seen it thicker than it is just now when we are making the rounds the sea de vans seems to have the control of the weather what are you grumbling at said mademoiselle de vernois as she grasped his arm tightly the fog can hide vengeance as well as perfidy commandant she went on in a low voice it is a question now of taking such measures in concert with me that the gar shall not escape us this time is he in your house he asked and there was a troubled sound in his voice that showed his voice that showed his astonishment no she replied but give me a man that can be depended upon and i will send him to you to warn you of the marquis's arrival what are you doing corinthin asked with eager haste a soldier in your house will scare him but a child i will find one will not awaken suspicion

commandant mademoiselle vernois resumed you can surround my house at once thanks to this fog that you execrate post soldiers about it in every direction place a picket in st leonard's church so as to secure the esplanade which is overlooked by my windows postmen on the promenade itself for though my window is twenty feet from the ground despair sometimes gives strength sufficient to overleap the most perilous distances. Listen, I shall probably send this gentleman away through the house door, so you must give the task of watching it to none but a brave man, for no one can deny his courage," she said, heaving a sigh, and he will fight for his life. Gooda, cried the commandant. The young Fughereret sprang forward. He had been standing in the midst of the knot of men who had returned with gulieu, and who had remained drawn up in rank at a little distance.

Listen, my boy, the old soldier said in low tones, this confounded girl is betraying the gar to us. I don't know why, but no matter, that is not our business. Take ten men with you and post them so as to guard the blind alley and the girl's house at the end of it. But you must manage. so that neither you nor your men are seen. Yes, Commandant, I know the ground.

Well, my boy, Ullo went on, I will send Bopier to you to let you know when the moment comes to be up and doing. Try to tackle the Marquis yourself, and if you can kill him so that I shall not have to try him first and shoot him afterwards, you shall be a lieutenant in a fortnight,

or my name is not who. low. Here, mademoiselle, he said as he pointed to Goudin, here is a brave fellow who will flinch from nothing. He will keep a sharp lookout before your house, and whether the sea de van comes out or tries to go in, he will not miss him. Gudin set out with his ten soldiers. Do you clearly understand what you are about?

Marantin murmured to Mademoiselle de Vernaille. She made him no answer. With a kind of satisfaction she watched the men start, under the orders of the sub-lieutenant, to post themselves on the promenade, and yet others, who, in obedience to Ullo's directions, took up their position along the dark walls of St. Leonard's Church. There are houses adjoining mine, she said to the commandant, surround them also. so let us not lay up matter for repentance by neglecting a single precaution that we ought to take she is mad thought ullo am i not a prophet corontes said in his ear the child i shall send to the house is the little gar with the bloody foot so that he did not finish mademoiselle de vernois had suddenly darted away towards

her house, whither he followed her, whistling like a happy man. When he came up with her, she had already reached her doorstep, where Carantin once more found Galap Chauphine's son. Mademoiselle, he said, take this little fellow with you. You could not have a more guileless and active messenger. Then he breathed, so to speak, the following words into the little lad's ear. when you have once seen the ga within the house no matter what they say to you run away come and find me at the guard-house and i will give you enough to find you inbred for the rest of your life

corinter felt his hand squeezed hard by the young breton who followed mademoiselle de vernois now my good friends come to an explanation whenever you like cried corinter when the door was shut if you make love my lord marquis it will be over your own shroud yet corinton could not bring himself to go out of sight of that fatal house and betook himself to the promenade where he found the commandant busily giving orders night soon came on two hours passed by and still the different sentries distributed at their posts, had seen nothing that could lead them to suspect that the marquis had come through the triple line of men who were watching from their hiding places along the three sides of Papago's Tower by which access was possible. Corantin had walked from the promenade to the guardhouse a score of times, and each time his expectations had been disappointed, and his young messenger had not yet come to find him.

Plunged in deep thought, the spy strolled slowly along the promenade, undergoing the martyrdom to which three terrible conflicting passions subjected him, a victim to love, ambition, and greed of gold. It struck eight on all the clocks. The moon rose late, so that the scene on which this drama of his own devising, was about to come to a crisis, was wrapped in appalling gloom by the darkness and the thick fog. The agent of police managed to suppress his passions. He locked his arms over his breast and never took his eyes off the window that stood out

above the tower like a gleaming phantom shape. Whenever his steps led him to the side of the promenade nearest the valleys along the brink of the precipices, he mechanically scrutinized the fog, with the long pale streaks of light flung across it here and there, from some window among the houses in the town or suburbs, above or below the fortifications. The deep silence that prevailed was only troubled by the murmur of the Nancourt, by melancholy sounds at intervals from the belfry, or by the footsteps of the sentinels and the clank of weapons when they came to relieve guard hour by hour everything men and nature alike had grown solemn it is as dark as a wolf's throat pia mish remarked just then go along replied marcheterre and keep as quiet as a dead dog i scarcely draw my breath the shoe

and retorted. If the man who let a stone roll down just now wants my knife to find a sheath in his heart, he has only to do it again, said Marchetere, in so low a voice that it mingled confusedly with the murmur of the Nassau. Why, it was I, said Pia Mish. Well, old money-bag, creep along on your belly like a snake, or we shall leave our carcasses here before there is any occasion for it. Hi, Marcia Ter, the incorrigible Pia Miche began again.

He had laid himself flat on the ground and was using both hands to hoist himself onto the path where his comrade was, and now he spoke in the ear of the latter, in so low a voice that the Schoen's following behind did not catch a syllable that he said. hi marcheterre if we are to believe our grand gals there is a glorious lot of plunder up there will you go halves listen piamish said marcheterre as still flat on his stomach he came to a stop a movement imitated by the whole troop of shuans so exhausted were they by the difficulties of their progress up the steep sides of the precipice I know you for one of those honest grab-alls who are as fond of giving hard knocks as of taking them when there is no other choice. We have not come here after dead men's shoes. It is devil against devil and woe to them that have the shorter claws.

The grand gars sent us here to rescue the gar. That is where he is. look, lift up your dog's head and look at that window up above the tower. It was on the stroke of midnight as he spoke. The moon rose and the fog began to look like pale smoke. Pia Mish gripped Marcia Tare's arm violently and pointed out, without making a sound, the gleaming triangular blades of several bayonets some ten feet above them. The blues are there already.

ready, said Pia Mish, we have not a chance against them. Patience, replied Marchetere, if I looked into it thoroughly this morning, there should be somewhere about the base of the Papago's Tower and between the ramparts and the promenade, a place where they are always heaping manure. One can drop down onto it, as if it were a bed. If San Labra would turn all the blood that would, be shed into good cider, the Fugier people would find a very ample supply of it tomorrow,

remarked Pia Mish. Marcia Ter laid his great hand over his friend's mouth. Then the muttered caution that he gave passed from line to line till it reached the last Shewan who clung aloft to the heather on the schistis rock. As a matter of fact, Quarantin was standing on the edge of the esplanade, and his ears were too accustomed to vigilance not to detect the rustling noises made by the shrubs as the shoe-wins pulled and twisted them, and the faint sound of the pebbles that fell to the foot of the precipice below.

Marciateur apparently possessed the gift of seeing through the darkness, or his senses had become as acute as those of a savage by being constantly called into play. He had caught sight of coranté, or perhaps he had scented him like a well-trained dog. The diplomatist spy listened intently to the silence and scanned the natural wall of the schist, but he could discover nothing there. If the hazy dubious light allowed him to see a few of the shewans at all, he took them for fragments of the rock. So thoroughly did the living bodies preserve the appearance of inanimate nature. The danger to the troop did not last long.

Quarantan's attention was called away by a very distinct and audible sound which came from the other end of the promenade at a spot where the buttress wall came to an end, and the sheer face of the rock began. A pathway that ran along the edge of the schist and communicated with the queen's staircase, also ended at this point, just where the rock and the masonry met. As Corinta reached the spot,

a form rose up as if by magic before his eyes, and when, feeling doubtful as to its intentions, he stretched out a hand to lay hold of the being, phantom or otherwise, he grasped the soft and rounded outlines of a woman. The devil take it, good woman, he muttered in a low tone. If you had happened on anyone else, you might have come in for a bullet through your head. Where do you come from? Where are you going at this time of night?

Are you dumb? It really is a woman at any rate. said he to himself. Silence was growing dangerous, so the stranger replied in tones that showed her great alarm. Oh, I am coming back from an up-sitting, master. It is the Marquis's make-believe mother, said Coranta to himself. Let us see what she will do. All right, go along that way, old woman, he went on.

allowed, pretending not to recognize her. Go to the left if you don't want to be shot. He stood motionless till, seeing that Madame de Guas turned in the direction of the Papago's tower, he followed her at a distance with diabolical cunning. While this fateful meeting was taking place, the Shouans had very cleverly taken up their position on the manure heap to which Marciateur had guided them. There is the Grand Gals, muttered Marciateur to himself, while he shuffled along the side of the tower as a bear might have done. Here we are, he said to the lady.

Good, Madame de Guant replied. If you can find a ladder about the house or in the garden that comes to an end about six feet below the manure heap, the gar will be saved. Do you see the round window up there? It is in a dressing-room that opens out of the bedroom, and you must reach it. This side of the tower, at the foot of which you are standing, is the one side that is not surrounded. The horses are ready.

And if you have guarded the Ford of the Nancourt, we ought to have him out of danger in fifteen minutes, in spite of his folly. But if that wench tries to follow him, stab her. Corantin now perceived, through the gloom, that a few of the vague shapes which he had at first taken for rocks were moving stealthily.

He went at once to the guard at St. Leonard's Gate, where he found the commandant fully dressed, but sleeping on a camp bed. Let him alone, Bopier said roughly to Corantan, he has only just lain down. The shoo-uns are here, cried Quarantin in Ullo's ears. "'Impossible, but so much the better,' said the commandant, heavy with sleep though he was.

There will be fighting at any rate. When Ullo came to the promenade, Corantam pointed out to him through the darkness the strange position occupied by the Shuans. They have either outwitted or gagged the sentries. that I posted between the Queen's staircase and the castle, exclaimed the commandant. By Jove, what a fog it is! But, patience, I will send fifty men and a lieutenant round to the base of the cliff. We must not set upon them from above, for the brutes are so tough that they will let themselves

drop to the bottom of the precipice like stones and never break a limb. The cracked bell in the church tower struck two, as the commandant came back to the promenade after taking the most stringent measures a soldier could devise for surprising and seizing marcheterre and the shewens under his command. Every guard had been doubled, so that by this time Mademoiselle de Verne's house had become the central point about which a small army was gathered. The commandant found Coranta absorbed in contemplation of the windows that looked out over the Papago's tower.

Citizen, said Ullo, addressing him, it is my belief that the Cedophon is making fools of us all, for nothing has stirred so far. There he is, cried Corauntat, pointing to the window. I saw a man's shadow on the curtains, but I do not understand what has become of my little boy. They have killed him or gained him over. Look, there, Commandant, do you see?

It is a man. Let us go. Tonairdegu, I'm not going to arrest him in bed. If he is in there, he's sure to come out. Goodal will not miss him, replied Ullo, who had his own reasons for delay. Come now, Commandant, in the name of the law, I command you to advance instantly upon the house. You are a pretty fellow at all events to think to order me about. The Commandant's wrath did not trouble, Coranta.

You will obey me, he said coolly, for here is an order drawn up in due form and signed by the Minister of War, which will compel you to do so. He drew a paper from his pocket. Do you really think that we are fools enough to let that girl act according to to her own notions, we are stamping out civil war, and the greatness of the end in view justifies the littleness of the means employed. I take the liberty, citizen, of sending you to— You understand?

That is enough, then. Put your best foot foremost, and let me alone, and do it in less than no time. Read this first, said Coranta. her. Don't plague me about your business, cried Ullo, furious at receiving orders from a creature, in his opinion so despicable. Galop Chopin's son started up between the two at that moment like a rat out of a hole in the ground. The guy is going, he cried.

Which way? Along the rue Saint-Léonna. Bo Pié, Ullo whispered to. to the corporal who was standing beside him. Run and tell your lieutenant to approach the house and to keep up some nice little file firing upon it. Do you understand? File to the left and march towards the tower.

The commandant shouted to the rest of the men. End of Section 28. Section 29 of the Shouans by Honorita Bazak, translated by Ellen Marriage. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. by Bruce Peary. Chapter 3N. It is necessary, if the close of the drama, is to be clearly understood, to return and to enter Mademoiselle de Vernais' house with her. When the passions are excited to the highest pitch, the intoxication that they produce is far more complete than

anything affected by those paltry stimulants, wine, and opium. The clearness of ideas to which which we attain at such times, the subtle keenness of our overexcited senses bring about the strangest and most unexpected results. Beneath the arbitrary sway of one sole thought, certain temperaments can clearly perceive the least perceptible things, while the most obvious matters are for them as though they had no existence. Mademoiselle de Vernaille had fallen a victim to the kind of intoxicated. which makes our actual existence seem to be like the life of a somnambulist.

When she had read Montaurent's letter, she had ordered all things in such a way that he could not escape her vengeance, just as eagerly as she had but lately made every preparation for the first festival of her love. But when she saw her house carefully surrounded by her own orders with a triple line of bayonets, a sudden gleam of light shone through her soul. She sat in judgment upon her conduct and thought with the kind of revulsion that she had just perpetrated a crime. Her first uneasy impulse led her to spring to the threshold of her door and to stay there motionless for a brief space, trying to reflect but utterly unable to follow out a train of thought. She She was so little aware of what she had just done that she wondered why she was standing in the

vestibule of her own house, holding a strange child by the hand. Myriads of sparks like little tongues of flame swam in the air before her. She took a step or two to shake off the dreadful numbness that had crept over her senses, but nothing appeared to her in its true shape or with its real colors. she was like one that slept. She seized the little boy's hand with a roughness that was not usual to her, and drew him along so hurriedly that she seemed to possess the activity of a madwoman. She saw nothing whatever in the salon when she crossed it,

though three men greeted her and stood apart to allow her to pass. Here she is, said one of them. She is very beautiful, the priest exclaimed. Yes, replied the first speaker, but how pale and troubled she is. And how absent-minded, said the third, she does not see us. At the door of her own room, Mademoiselle de Vernaud saw Francine, who whispered to her with a sweet and happy face, He is there, Marie.

Mademoiselle de Vernaut seemed to awake and to be able to think. She looked down at the child whose hand she held, recognized him, and said to Francine, "'Shut this little boy up somewhere, and if you wish me to live, be very careful not to let him escape.' While she slowly uttered the words, she turned her eyes on the door of her room, on which they were, arrested with such appalling fixity that it might have been thought that she saw her victim through the thickness of the panels. She softly pushed the door open and closed it without turning herself, for she saw the marquis standing before the hearth. He was handsomely, but not too elaborately dressed, and there was an air of festival about the young nobles attire that added to the radiance with which lovers are invested in women's eyes.

At the sight of him, all Mademoiselle de Vernau's presence of mind returned to her. The white enamel of her teeth showed between the tightly strained lines of her half-opened lips, which described a set smile that expressed dread rather than delight. With slow steps she went towards the young noble, and pointing to the clock, she spoke with hollow mirth. A man who is worthy of love is well worth the anxiety with which he is expected. But the violence of her feelings overcame her. She fell back upon the sofa that stood near the fire. Dear Mary, you are very charming when you are angry, said the Marquis.

seating himself beside her, taking her passive hand, and entreating a glance which she would not give. I hope, he went on in a tender and soothing voice, that in another moment Marie will be very vexed with herself for having hidden her face from her fortunate husband. She turned sharply as the words fell on her ear and gazed into his eyes. What does that terrible look mean? He went on, smiling. But your hand is as hot as fire.

My love, what is it? My love, she echoed, in a stifled, unnatural voice. Yes, he said, falling on his knees before her and taking both her hands which he covered with kisses. Yes, my love, I am yours for life. impetuously she pushed him from her and rose to her feet. Her features were distorted. She laughed like a maniac as she said.

You do not mean one word of it. You are baser than the vilest criminal. She sprang quickly towards the dagger which lay beside a vase and flashed it within a few inches of the astonished young man's breast. Bah! she said, flinging down the weapon, I have not enough esteem for you to kill you. Your blood is too vile even for the soldiers to shed. I see nothing but the executioner before you.

The words came from her with difficulty and were uttered in a low voice. She stamped her foot like a spoiled child in a passion. The marquis went up to her and tried to clasp her in his arms. "'Do not touch me!' she cried, drawing back. in horror. She is mad, said the Marquis, speaking aloud in his despair. Yes, I am mad, she repeated, but not yet so mad as to be a toy for you. What would I not forgive to passionate love, but that you should think to possess me

without any love for me? That you should write and say so to that— To whom have I written? He asked in amazement that was clearly unfeigned. To that virtuous woman who wished to kill me! The Marquis turned pale at this and grasped the back of the armchair by which he was standing so tightly that he broke it, as he cried,

If Madame de Guas has been guilty of any foul play! Mademoiselle Vernaud looked round for the letter and could not find it again. She called Francine, and the Breton maid came. Where is the letter? Monsieur Corantin took it away with him. Corantin? Ah, I understand everything now.

That letter was his doing. He has deceived me, as he can deceive with diabolical ingenuity. She went to the sofa and sank. down upon it, with a piercing wail, and a flood of tears fell from her eyes. Doubt and certainty were equally horrible. The Marquis flung himself at his mistress's feet and clasped her to his breast, saying over and over again for her the only words that he could pronounce. Why do you weep, dear angel? What is the trouble?

Your scornful words are full of love. Do not weep. I love you. I love you forever. Suddenly he felt that she clasped him to her with superhuman strength, and in the midst of her sobs she said, You love me still? Can you doubt it, he answered, and his tone was almost sad. She withdrew herself suddenly from his arms and sprang back two paces, as if in confusion and dread.

said, If I doubt it, she cried. She saw the Marquis smiling at her with such gentle irony that the words died away on her lips. She let him take her hand and lead her as far as the threshold. Marie saw, at the end of the salon, an altar that had been hastily erected during her absence. The priest who had resumed his ecclesiastical garb was there, and the light upon the ceiling from the shining altar candles was sweet as hope. She recognized the two men who had before saluted her. They were the Comte de Beauvoir and the Baron de Guenique, the two witnesses whom Montaueran had

chosen. Will you still refuse? The Marquis asked her in a low voice. But when she saw the scene before her, she shrank back a step so as to her own room again, and fell upon her knees before the Marquis, and raised her hands to him, and cried, Oh, forgive me, forgive, forgive! Her voice died in her throat, her head fell back, her eyes were closed, and she lay as if dead in the arms of the Marquis and of Francine.

When she opened her eyes again she met the gaze of the young chief, a look full of kindness and of love. Patience, Marie, this is the last storm, he said. Yes, the last, she echoed. Foncine and the Marquis looked at each other in surprise, but she enjoined silence on them both by a gesture. Ask the priest to come, she said, and leave me alone with him.

him. They withdrew. Father, she said to the priest who suddenly appeared before her, when I was a child, an old man with white hair like you often used to tell me that if it is asked with a living faith, one can obtain anything of God. Is that true? It is true, the priest answered. All things are possible to him,

has created all things. Mademoiselle de Verneux threw herself on her knees with incredible fervor. Oh, God, she cried in her ecstasy. My faith in thee is as great as my love for him. Inspire me. Work a miracle here. Or take my life. Your prayer will be heard, said the priest.

mademoiselle de vernoi came out to meet the eyes of those assembled leaning upon the arm of the old white-haired priest it was a profound emotion hidden in the depths of her heart that gave her to her lover's love she was more beautiful now than on any bygone day for such a serenity as painters love to give to martyr's faces had set its seal upon her and lent grandeur to her face. She gave her hand to the Marquis, and together they went towards the altar where they knelt. This marriage, which was about to be solemnized two paces from the nuptial couch, the hastily erected altar, the crucifix, the vases, the chalice brought secretly by the priest, the fumes of incense floating beneath the cornices, which hitherto had only seen the steam of everyday meal, The priest who had simply slipped a stole over his cassock, the altar candles in a dwelling-room,

all united to make a strange and touching scene which completes the picture of those days of sorrowful memory when civil discord had overthrown the most sacred institutions. In those times, religious ceremonies had all the charm of mysteries. Children were privately baptized in the rooms where their mothers still groaned. As of old, the Lord went in simplicity and poverty to console the dying. Young girls received the sacred wafer for the first time on the spot where they had been playing only the night before. The marriage of the Marquis and Mademoiselle de Vernau was about to be solemnized,

like so many other marriages, with an act forbidden by the new legislation. But all these marriages, celebrated for the most part beneath the oak trees, were afterwards scrupulously sanctioned by law. The priest who thus preserved the ancient usages to the last was one of those men who are faithful to their principles in the height of the storm. His voice, guiltless of the oath required by the Republic, only breathed words of peace through the tempest. He did not stir up the fires of insurrection as the Abbe Goudin had been wont to do, but

he had devoted himself, like many others, to the dangerous task of fulfilling the duties of the priest towards such souls as remained faithful to the Catholic Church. In order to carry out his perilous mission successfully, he made use of all the pious artifices to which persecution compelled him to resort, so that the Marquis had only succeeded in finding him in one of those underground hiding places which bear the name of the priest's hole, even in our own day. The sight of his pale, worn face inspired such devout feelings and respect in others, that it transformed the worldly aspect of the salon and made it seem like a holy place.

Everything was in readiness for the act that should bring misfortune and joy. In the deep silence before the ceremony began, the priest asked for the name of the bride. Marie Natalie, daughter of Mademoiselle Blanche de Castellan, late abbess of non-es, of Notre Dame de Seyes and Victor Amade, Duke de Verneuay. Born at La Chesterie, near Alonanon. I should have not thought that Montaurean would have been fool enough to marry her. The Baron whispered to the Count, the natural daughter of a Duke out upon it.

If she had been a king's daughter, he might have been excused, the Comte de Beauvon. Comte de Beauvon said, with a smile, But I am not the one to blame him. I have a liking for the other, and I mean to lay siege to Chowrette's Philly now. There's not much coup about her. Monterey's designations having been previously filled in,

the lovers set their names to the document, and the names of the witnesses followed. The ceremony began, and all the watchers, no one but Marie heard the sound of arms and the heavy even tread of the soldiers coming to relieve the blues, who were doubtless on guard before St. Leonard's church, where she herself had posted them. She shuddered and raised her eyes to the crucifix upon the altar. She is a saint, murmured Francine. Give me saints of that sort, and I will turn ducidly devout, the Count said to himself in a low voice.

When the priest put the usual question to Mademoiselle de Vernauay, her answering, yes, came with a heavy sigh. She leaned over and said in her husband's ear, In a little while you will know why I break the vire. that I made never to marry you. The right was over, and those who had been present passed out into the room where dinner had been served, when, just as the guests were sitting down, Jeremiah came in in a state of great terror. The unhappy bride rose at once and went up to him, followed by Francine.

Then making one of the excuses that women can defies so readily, she begged the Marquis to do the honors of the feast by himself for a few moments, and hurried the servant away before he could commit any blunder that might prove fatal. Oh, Francine, she said, what a thing it is to feel oneself at the brink of death, and to be unable to say, I am dying. Mademoiselle de Vernaud did not return. An excuse for her absence could be found in the ceremony that had just been concluded. When the meal came to an end, and the Marquis' anxiety had risen to its height, Marie came back in all the splendor of her bridal array.

She looked calm and happy, while Francine, who had returned with her, bore traces of such profound terror on all her features, that those assembled seemed to see in the faces of the two women some such strange picture as the eccentric brush of Salvatore Rosa might have painted, representing death and life, holding each other by the hand. Gentlemen, she said, addressing the priest, the baron, and the count, you must be my guests tonight. Any attempt to leave Fugier would be too hazardous. i have given orders to this good girl here to conduct each of you to his own room no resistance i beg as the priest was about to speak i hope that you will not refuse to obey a bride on her wedding-day

An hour later she was alone with her lover in the bridal chamber that she had made so fair. They stood at last beside the fatal couch where so many hopes are blighted as by the tomb, where the chances of an awakening to a happy life are so uncertain, where love dies or comes into being, according to the power of the character that is only finally tested there. Marie looked at the clock and said to herself, Six hours to live. So I have been able to sleep,

she exclaimed when, as morning drew near, she woke with the shock of the sudden start that disturbs us when we have agreed with ourselves on the previous evening to wake at a certain hour. Yes, I have slept, she repeated, as she saw by the candlelight that the hand on the dye of the clock pointed to the hour of two. She turned and gazed at the marquis,

who was sleeping with one hand beneath his head, as children do, while the other hand grasped that of his wife. He was half smiling, as though he had fallen asleep in the midst of a kiss. Ah, she murmured to herself. He is slumbering like a child. But how could you?

Could he feel mistrust of me, of me who owe him unspeakable happiness? She touched him gently, he awoke and smiled in earnest. He kissed the hand that he held, and gazed at the unhappy woman before him with such glowing eyes that she could not endure the passionate light in them, and slowly drooped her heavy eyelids as if to shut out a spectacle fraught with peril for her. But while she thus veiled the glowing warmth of her own eyes, she so provoked the desire to which she appeared to refuse herself that if she had not had a profound tread to conceal, her husband might have reproached her with too much coquetry. They both raised their charming heads at the same moment with a sign full of gratitude for the pleasures that they had experienced. But after a moment's survey of the exquisite picture presented by his wife's face, the Marquis, thinking that Marie's brow was overshadowed by some feeling of melancholy, said to her softly, Why that shade of sadness, love?

Poor Alphonse, whither do you think I have brought you? she asked, trembling. To happiness! Nay, to death! Quivering with horror, she sprang out of bed, followed by the astonished marquis. His wife led him to the window. A frenzied gesture escaped Marie as she drew back the curtains and pointed to a score of soldiers in the square. The fog had dispersed, and the white moonlight fell on their uniforms and muskets on the imperturbable Coralnton, who came and went like a jackal on the lookout for his prey, and on the commandant,

who stood there motionless with folded arms, with his head thrown back and his mouth pursed up in an alert and uneasy attitude. Let them be, Marie, and come back. Why do you laugh, Alphonse? It was I who posted them there. You are dreaming. nay for a moment they looked at each other and the marquis understood it all he clasped her in his arms what of that he said i love you forever all is not lost even now cried marie alphonse she said after a pause there is yet hope just then they distinctly heard the stifled cry of a screeching

chowal, and Francine suddenly entered from the dressing-room. Pierre is there, she cried in almost frenzied joy. The Marquis and Francine dressed Montereux in a shoe-un's costume, with the marvelous quickness that women alone possess. When Marie saw that her husband was busy loading the firearms that Francine had brought for him, she quickly slipped away, making a sign to her faith in her. Breton maid. Francine led the Marquis into the adjoining dressing-room.

At the sight of a number of sheets securely knotted together, the young chief could appreciate the alert activity with which the Breton girl had done her work, as she sought to disappoint the watchfulness of the soldiers. I can never get through, the Marquis said, as he made a survey of the narrow embracques. of the round window. But the circular opening was just then blocked up by a great dark countenance, and the hoarse voice that Francine knew so well cried softly. Quick, General, those toads of blues are on the move.

Oh, one more kiss, said a sweet and trembling voice. Montereau's feet were set on the ladder, by which she was to escape, but he had not yet extricated himself from the window, and he felt himself clasped in a desperate embrace. He uttered a cry, for he saw that his wife had dressed herself in his clothes and tried to hold her fast, but she tore herself hastily from his arms, and he was obliged to descend the ladder. In his hand he kept a scrap of some woven material, and a sudden gleam of moonlight showed him that it must be a strip of the waistcoat that he had worn on the previous evening.

Halt! Fire by platoons! Ullo's words spoken broke the deep stillness that had something hideous about it, and snapped the charm that seemed hitherto to have prevailed over the place and the men in it. The sound of a salvo of balls at the base of the tower in the valley bottom followed hard upon the firing of the blues upon the promenade. Volley succeeded Volley without interruption.

The Republicans kept up their fire mercilessly, but no sound was uttered by the victims. There was a horrible silence between each discharge. Corantin, however, suspected some trap, for he had heard one one of the men whom he had pointed out to the commandant drop from his lofty position at the top of the ladder. Not one of those animals makes a sound, he remarked to Ullo. Our pair of lovers are quite capable of keeping us amused by some sort of trick, while they themselves are perhaps escaping in another direction.

The spy, in his eagerness to obtain light on this mystery, sent Galop Chopin's child to find some torches. Ullo had caught the drift of Quarantan's suspicions so aptly that the old soldier, who was preoccupied with the sounds of an obstinate encounter that was taking place near the guardhouse in St. Leonard's gate exclaimed, "'True, there cannot be two of them,' and rushed off in that direction. We have given him a leaden shower-bath, commandant, so Bopier greeted his commandant, but he has killed Goudin and wounded two more men.

Ah, the madman! He had broken through three lines of our fellows and would have got away into the open country if it had not been for the sentry at St. Leonard's gate, who spitted him on his bayonet. The commandant hurried into the guardhouse on hearing this piece of news, and saw a blood-stained body stretched out upon the camp-bed where it had just been laid. He went up to the man whom he believed to be the Marquis, raised the hat that covered his face, and dropped into a chair. I thought so, he cried vehemently as he folded his arms.

Sacretonneur! She had kept him too long. The soldiers stood about motionless. The Commandant's movement had uncoiled a woman's long, dark hair. The silence was suddenly broken by the sounds of a crowd of armed men. Corantin came into the guardhouse, followed by four men, who had made a kind of stretcher of their muskets, upon which they were carrying Montaurean, whose legs and arms had been broken,

by many gunshots. They laid the marquis on the camp bed beside his wife. He saw her and found strength sufficient to take her hand in a convulsive clasp. The dying girl turned her head painfully, recognized her husband, and a sudden spasm shook her that was terrible to see, as she murmured in a nearly inaudible voice, a day without a morrow. God has heard me indeed. Commandant, said the Marquis, summoning all his strength to speak, while he still held

Marie's hand in his. I depend upon your loyalty to send word of my death to my young brother in London. Write to him, and tell him that if he would fain obey my last wishes, he will not bear arms against France, but he will never forsake the service of the king. It shall be done, said Ullo, pressing the hand of the dying man. Take them to the hospital nearby, cried Coranta. Ullo grasped the spy by the arm in such a sort that he left the marks of his nails in the flesh,

as he said to him, Since your task here is ended, be off, and take a good look at the face of Commandant-U-Lou so that you may never cross his path again unless you have a mind to have his cutlass through your body. The old soldier drew his saber as he spoke. There is another of your honest folk who will never make their fortunes, said Corantan to himself when he was well away from the guardhouse. The Marquis was still able to thank his enemy by a movement of the head, expressing a soldier's esteem for a generous foe.

In 1827, an old man, accompanied by his wife, was bargaining for cattle in the market of Fugier. Nobody took any special heed of him, though in his time he had killed more than a hundred men. No one even reminded him of his nickname of Marsh Ater. The person to whom valuable information concerning the actors in this drama is owing saw the man as he led a cow away. There was that look of homely simplicity about him,

which prompts the remark, That is a very honest fellow. As for Sibo, otherwise called, called Piamish, his end has been witnessed already. Perhaps Marcheter made a vain attempt to rescue his comrade from the scaffold, and was present in the marketplace of Aloncantzant at the terrific riot that occurred during the famous trials of Riefoel, Brian, and La Chantory. End of Section 29.

End of the Shouans by Honoré de Boles back.