The Last Vendée; or, the She-Wolves of Machecoul. Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
to give you an exact account of the harvests, on which you have half the profits, and to pay you promptly on the day and hour what is due,--which I do to the best of my ability, in spite of the hard times: but before being your farmer I am a citizen, and I am, moreover, mayor, and in those capacities I have duties, Madame la baronne, which I must fulfil, whether my poor heart suffers or not."
"What nonsense are you talking to me, Maître Courtin? Pray, what has my son to do with your duties as a citizen and your station as mayor?"
"He has this to do with it, Madame la baronne: your son has intimate acquaintance with the enemies of the State."
"I know very well," said the baroness, "that Monsieur le Marquis de Souday holds exaggerated opinions; but any love-affairs that Michel may have with one of his daughters cannot, it seems to me, be turned into a political misdemeanor."
"That love-affair is carrying Monsieur Michel much farther than you think for, Madame la baronne, and I tell you so now. I dare say he has so far only poked the end of his nose into the troubled waters about him; but that's enough for a beginning."
"Come, enough of such metaphors! Explain what you mean, Courtin."
"Well, Madame la baronne, here's the truth. This evening, after being present at the death-bed of that old Chouan Tinguy, and running the risk of bringing a malignant fever home with him, and after accompanying one of the wolves to the château de Souday, Monsieur le baron served as guide to two peasants who were no more peasants than I'm a gentleman; and he took them to the château de Souday."
"Who told you so, Courtin?"
"My own two eyes, Madame la baronne; they are good, and I trust them."
"Did you get an idea who those peasants were?"
"The two false peasants?"
"Yes, of course."
"One, I'd take my oath of it, was the Comte de Bonneville,--a violent Chouan, he! No one can fool me about him; he has been long in the country, and I know him. As for the other--"
Courtin paused.
"Go on," said the baroness, impatiently.
"As for the other, if I'm not mistaken, that's a better discovery still--"
"But who is it? Come, Courtin, tell me at once."
"No, Madame la baronne. I shall tell the name--I shall probably be obliged to do so--to the authorities."
"The authorities! Do you mean to tell me you are going to denounce my son?" cried the baroness, amazed and stupefied at the tone her farmer, hitherto so humble, was assuming.
"Assuredly I do, Madame la baronne," said Courtin, composedly.
"Nonsense! you would not think of it."
"I do think it, Madame la baronne, and I should be now on the road to Montaigu or even to Nantes, if I had not wished to warn you, so that you may put Monsieur Michel out of harm's way."
"But, supposing that Michel is concerned in this affair," said the baroness, vehemently; "you will compromise me with all my neighbors, and--who knows?--you may draw down horrible reprisals on La Logerie."
"Then we must defend the château, that's all, Madame la baronne."
"Courtin!"
"I saw the great war, Madame la baronne. I was a little fellow then, but I remember it, and on my word of honor I don't want to see the like again. I don't want to see my twenty acres of land a battlefield for both parties, my harvests eaten by one or burned by the other; still less do I want to see the Whites lay hands on the National domain, which they will do if they get the chance. Out of my twenty acres, five belonged to émigrés. I bought 'em and paid for 'em; that's one quarter of all I own. Besides, here's another thing: the government relies upon me, and I wish to justify the confidence of the government."
"But, Courtin," said the baroness, almost ready to come down to entreaty, "matters can't be as serious as you imagine, I am sure."
"Beg pardon, Madame la baronne, they are very serious indeed. I am only a peasant, but that doesn't prevent me from knowing as much as others know, being blessed with a good ear and a gift for listening. The Retz district is all but at the boiling-point; another fagot and the pot will boil over."
"Courtin, you must be mistaken."
"No, Madame la baronne, I am not mistaken. I know what I know. God bless me! the nobles have met three times,--once at the Marquis de Souday's, once at the house of the man they call Louis Renaud, and once at the Comte de Saint-Amand's. All those meetings smelt of powder, Madame la baronne. À propos of powder, there's two hundred weight of it and sacks of cartridges in the Vicar of Montbert's house. Moreover,--and this is the most serious thing of all,--they are expecting Madame la Duchesse de Berry, and from something I have just seen, it is my opinion they won't have long to wait for her."
"Why so?"
"I think she is here already."
"Good God! where?"
"Well, at the château de Souday, where Monsieur Michel took her this evening."
"Michel! oh, the unfortunate boy! But you won't say a word about it, will you, Courtin? Besides, the government must have made its plans. If the duchess attempts to return to La Vendée, she will be arrested before she can get here."
"Nevertheless, she is here," persisted Courtin.
"All the more reason why you should hold your tongue."
"I like that! And what becomes of the profits and the glory of such a prize, not counting that before the capture is made by somebody else the whole country will be in blood and arms? No. Madame la baronne; no, I cannot hold my tongue."
"Then what is to be done? Good God! what can I do?"
"I'll tell you, Madame la baronne; listen to me--"
"Go on."
"Well, as I want to remain your zealous and faithful servant, all the while being a good citizen,--and because I hope that in gratitude for what I am doing for you, you will let me keep my farm on terms that I am able to pay,--I will agree to say nothing about Monsieur Michel. But you must try to keep him out of this wasps' nest in future. He is in it now, that's true; but there's still time to get him out."
"You need not trouble yourself about that, Courtin."
"But if I might say a word, Madame la baronne--"
"Well, what?"
"I don't quite dare to give advice to Madame la baronne; it is not my place, but--"
"Go on, Courtin; go on."
"Well, in order to get Monsieur Michel completely out of this hornets' nest, I think you'll have--by some means or other, prayers or threats--to make him leave la Logerie and go to Paris."
"Yes, you are right, Courtin."
"Only, I am afraid he won't consent."
"If I decide it, Courtin, he must consent."
"He will be twenty-one in eleven months; he is very nearly his own master."
"I tell you he shall go, Courtin. What are you listening for?"
Courtin had turned his head to the door, as if he heard something.
"I thought some one was in the corridor," he said.
"Look and see."
Courtin took a light and rushed into the passage.
"There was no one," he said, "though I certainly thought I heard a step."
"Where do you suppose he can be, the wretched boy, at this time of night?" said the baroness.
"Perhaps he has gone to my house," said Courtin. "He has confidence in me, and it wouldn't be the first time he has come to tell me of his