The Isle of Unrest Part 39

"But you knew that Perucca was never mine," she persisted.

"Yes, I knew that, but then Perucca was valueless. So soon as I knew its value, I reclaimed it."

"I warn Monsieur de Va.s.selot that such frankness is imprudent; he may regret it," put in the notary with a solemn face. And Denise gave him a glance of withering pity. The poor man, it seemed, was quite at sea.

"Thank you," laughed de Va.s.selot. "I only judge myself as the world will judge me. You were very rich, mademoiselle, and I have made you very poor."

Denise glanced at him, and said nothing. And de Va.s.selot's breath came rather quickly.

"But the Casa Perucca is at your disposal so long as you may choose to live there," he continued. "My father is to be buried at Olmeta to-morrow, but I cannot even remain to attend the funeral. So I need not a.s.sure you that I do not want the Casa Perucca for myself."

"Where are you going?" asked Denise, bluntly.

"Back to France. I have heard news that makes it necessary for me to return. Gambetta has escaped from Paris in a balloon, and is organizing affairs at Tours. We may yet make a defence."

"You?" said Mademoiselle Brun. Into the one word she threw, or attempted to throw, a world of contempt, as she looked him up and down, with his arm in a sling, and his wounded leg bent awkwardly to one side; but her eyes glittered. This was a man after her own heart.

"One has one's head left, mademoiselle," answered Lory. Then he turned to the window, and held up one hand. "Listen!" he added.

It was the music of a second regiment marching down the Boulevard du Palais, towards the port, and, as it approached, it was rendered almost inaudible by the shouts of the men themselves, and of the crowd that cheered them. De Va.s.selot went to the window and opened it, his face twitching, and his eyes s.h.i.+ning with excitement.

"Listen to them," he said. "Listen to them. Ah! but it is good to hear them."

Instinctively the others followed him, and stood grouped in the open window, looking down into the street. The band was now pa.s.sing, clanging out the Ma.r.s.eillaise, and the fickle people cheered the new tricolour, as it fluttered in the wind. Some one looked up, and perceived de Va.s.selot's uniform.

"Come, mon capitaine," he cried; "you are coming with us?"

Lory laughed, and shouted back--"Yes--I am coming."

"See," cried a sergeant, who was gathering recruits as he went--"see!

there is one who has fought, and is going to fight again! Vive la France, mes enfants! Who comes? Who comes?"

And the soldiers, looking up, gave a cheer for the wounded man who was to lead them. They pa.s.sed on, followed by a troup of young men and boys, half of whom ultimately stepped on board the steamer at the last moment, and went across the sea to fight for France.

De Va.s.selot turned away from the window, and went towards the table, where the papers lay in confusion. The abbe took them up, and began to arrange them in order.

"And the estate and the gold?" he said; "who manages that, since you are going to fight?"

"You," replied de Va.s.selot, "since you cannot fight. There is no one but you in Corsica who can manage it. There is none but you to understand these people."

"All the world knows who manages half of Corsica," put in Mademoiselle Brun, looking fiercely at the abbe. But the abbe only stamped his foot impatiently.

"Woman's gossip," he muttered, as he shook the papers together. "Yes; I will manage your estate if you like. And if there is gold in the land, I will tear it out. And there is gold. The amiable colonel is not the man to have made a mistake on that point. I shall like the work. It will be an occupation. It will serve to fill one's life."

"Your life is not empty," said mademoiselle.

The abbe turned and looked at her, his glittering eyes meeting her twinkling glance.

"It is a priest's life," he said. "Come," he added, turning to the lawyer--"come, Mr. the Notary, into your other room, and write me out a form of authority for the Count de Va.s.selot to sign. We have had enough of verbal agreements on this estate."

And, taking the notary by the arm, he went to the door. On the threshold he turned, and looked at Mademoiselle Brun.

"A priest's life," he said, "or an old woman's. It is the same thing."

And Lory was left alone with mademoiselle and Denise. The window was still open, and from the port the sound of the military music reached their ears faintly. Mademoiselle rose, and went to the window, where she stood looking out. Her eyes were dim as she looked across the sordid street, but her lips were firm, and the hands that rested on the window-sill quite steady. She had played consistently a strong and careful game. Was she going to win or lose? She held that, next to being a soldier, it is good to be a soldier's wife and the mother of fighting men. And when she thought of the Rue du Cherche-Midi, she was not able to be amused, as the notary had said of Denise.

There was a short silence in the notary's office. De Va.s.selot was fingering the hilt of his long cavalry sword reflectively. After a moment he glanced across at Denise. He was placed as it were between her and the sword. And it was to the sword that he gave his allegiance.

"You see," he said, in a low voice, "I must go."

"Yes, you must go," she answered. She held her lip for a moment between her teeth. Then she looked steadily at him. "Go!" she said.

He rose from his chair and looked towards Mademoiselle Bran's back. At the rattle of his scabbard against the chair, mademoiselle turned.

"There is a horse waiting in the street below," she said--"the great horse that Colonel Gilbert rides. It is waiting for you, I suppose."

"I suppose so," said Lory, who went to the window and looked curiously down. Gilbert was certainly an odd man. He had left in anger, and had left his horse for Lory to ride. He waited a moment, and then held out his hand to Mademoiselle Brun. All three seemed to move and speak under a sort of oppression. It was one of those moments that impress themselves indelibly on the memory--a moment when words are suddenly useless--when the memory of an att.i.tude and of a silence remains all through life.

"Good-bye, mademoiselle," said Lory, with a sudden cheerfulness; "we shall meet in France next time."

Mademoiselle Brun held out her shrinking little hand.

"Yes, in France," she answered.

To Denise, Lory said nothing. He merely shook hands with her. Then he walked towards the door, haltingly. He used his sword like a walking stick, with his one able hand. Denise had to open the door for him. He was on the threshold, when Mademoiselle Brun stopped him.

"Monsieur de Va.s.selot," she said, "when the soldiers went past, you and Colonel Gilbert spoke together hurriedly; I saw you. You are not going to fight--you two?"

"Yes, mademoiselle, we are going to fight--the Prussians. We are friends while we have a common enemy. When there is no enemy--who knows? He has received a great appointment in France, and has offered me a post under him. And I have accepted it."

CHAPTER XXIX.

A BALANCED ACCOUNT.

"Let the end try the man."

Bad news, it is said, travels fast. But in France good news travels faster, and it is the evil tidings that lag behind. It is part of a Frenchman's happy nature to believe that which he wishes to be true. And although the news travelled rapidly, that Gambetta--that spirit of an unquenchable hope--had escaped from Paris with full power to conduct the war from Tours, the notification that the army of de la Motterouge had melted away before the advance of von der Tann, did not reach Lory de Va.s.selot until he pa.s.sed to the north of Ma.r.s.eilles with his handful of men.

That a general, so stricken in years as de la Motterouge, should have been chosen for the command of the first army of the Loire, spoke eloquently enough of the straits in which France found herself at this time. For this was the only army of the Government of National Defence, the _debris_ of Sedan, the hope of France. General de la Motterouge had fought in the Crimea: "Peu de feu et beaucoup de bayonette" had been his maxim then. But the Crimea was fifteen years earlier, and de la Motterouge was now an old man. Before the superior numbers and the perfectly drilled and equipped army of von der Tann, what could he do but retreat?

Thus, on their arrival in France, Colonel Gilbert and Lory de Va.s.selot were greeted with the news that Orleans had fallen into the hands of the enemy. It was the same story of incompetence pitted against perfect organization--order and discipline meeting and vanquis.h.i.+ng ill-considered bravery. All the world knows now that France should have capitulated after Sedan. But the world knows also that Paris need never have fallen, could France only have produced one mediocre military genius in this her moment of need. The capital was indeed surrounded, cut off from all the world; but the surrounding line was so thin that good generals.h.i.+p from within could have pierced it, and there was an eager army of brave men waiting to join issue from the Loire.

It was to this army of the Loire that Colonel Gilbert and de Va.s.selot were accredited. And it was an amateur army. It came from every part of France, and in its dress it ran to the picturesque. Franctireurs de Cannes rubbed shoulders with Mobiles from the far northern departments.