Robert Tournay Part 24

"Yes, mademoiselle, and because I have seen him I intend to start at once."

"General von Waldenmeer says that in less than three months' time the Prussian army will be in Paris," said Edme.

A slight smile of incredulity was Tournay's only reply.

"The monarchy will be restored," she continued; "little mercy will be shown the Republicans. They will have justice meted out to them by their conquerors."

"The allied armies will never reach Paris, mademoiselle, and before they restore the monarchy they must kill every Republican who stands between them and the throne."

"I do not want them to kill you," she said simply.

His heart beat wildly. For an instant he did not speak. When he could trust his voice to answer he said:--

"I thank you deeply for your solicitude, mademoiselle, but whatever happens I must go back to my duty."

Edme hesitated a moment, then spoke, at first with evident effort; then warming into a tone of almost pa.s.sionate entreaty.

"You have done much for an unhappy woman, Robert Tournay. The remembrance of the loyalty and devotion with which you watched over and protected me shall never pa.s.s out of my memory. The de Rocheforts do not easily forget such a debt as I owe you. In an attempt to repay it in some measure, I persuaded General von Waldenmeer to offer you an honorable position in his service. I am a proud woman, Monsieur Tournay, and it cost me something to make such an appeal to the Prussian officer, and now you reject his offer and present yourself before me so coolly and say carelessly, 'I have come, mademoiselle, to bid you adieu.'"

"You think it easy for me to say those words?" replied Tournay vehemently.

She did not wait for him to finish, but went on:--

"I place it in your power to serve the rightful cause, honorably and loyally,--the cause of the king; _my_ cause, Robert Tournay, and you refuse to do so."

"Do you not see that what you propose would be my dishonor?" he asked gently.

"No," answered Edme firmly. "You are a brave but obstinate man, who madly pursues a wicked course; because, having once espoused it, you think to desert it would be disloyal. You are mad, Robert Tournay, but I will rescue you from your folly. I will save you in spite of yourself. I command you to stay here!" and with the same imperious gesture which he knew so well of old, she stood before him, her dark blue eyes, as was their wont under stress of excitement, flas.h.i.+ng almost black. The tone was one of command, but there was in it a note of entreaty that went to his heart. He caught the hand which she held out to him, and exclaimed fervently:--

"I would give ten years of life to be able to obey you, but it cannot be. You do not know what you are asking of me or you would not put my honor thus upon the rack. It is cruel of you, mademoiselle, but I forgive you. You cannot understand. How should you--you are of the Monarchy, and I am of the Republic. The Republic calls me and I must go."

"The Republic!" repeated Edme, "Oh! execrable Republic! It has robbed me of everything in the world--family, estate, friends, and now"--She paused, the sentence incomplete upon her lips, and looked at him with an expression of pain upon her face as if some violent struggle were taking place within her. "And now you are going back to it. You may become its victim; you, who are so brave and strong and n.o.ble. Yes," she continued, "I will give the word its full meaning, Robert Tournay, you are n.o.ble--too n.o.ble to become a martyr in such a cause. I entreat you not to go. I fear for your safety."

Tournay's head swam. For a moment he felt that he must fold her in his arms and tell her that for her sake he would give up everything in the world for which he had striven,--country, liberty, and honor; the Republic itself.

With a mighty effort he threw off the feeling of weakness, pa.s.sionately crying, "For G.o.d's sake, mademoiselle, do not speak to me like that. You will make me forget my manhood. You will make me act so that your respect, which I have been so fortunate as to win, will turn to contempt. You could almost make me turn traitor to the Republic."

"What is this Republic? this creature of the imagination which you place above all else in the world?" she asked impetuously. "What has it done for France? What has it done for you?"

Before Tournay could answer, the sound of martial music was heard outside, and the measured tread of pa.s.sing troops shook the room. He stepped to the window and drawing aside the curtains motioned Edme to come to his side.

Wonderingly she approached and saw a brigade of infantry pa.s.sing in review of the general of division. They marched with absolute precision, the sun reflecting on the polished barrels of their guns as on a solid wall.

"There go the best troops in the world," said Tournay. Edme looked up in his face with surprise at his sudden change of manner.

"The soldiers of Prussia: at the command of their officers they will march like that to the batteries' mouth, closing up the gap of the fallen men with clock-work movements. There are two hundred thousand of them, and they are preparing to attack France. Joined with them are the tried veterans of Austria. On the sea," he continued, "the fleets of England are bearing down upon the ports of France. In the south, Spain is pouring her soldiers over the Pyrenees. These allied armies have banded together to destroy France. Yet we shall throw them back again, as we did at Wattignes and at Jemappes. There the flower of the European armies was scattered by our raw French troops. Although outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, the _men_ of France hurled back their foes in broken and disordered array. And why? Because in the heart of every Frenchman burns the new-born fire of liberty. He is fighting for the freedom he has bought so dearly. He is fighting for that Republic which has made him what he is--a _man_! It is France against the world! and by the Republic alone will she triumph over her enemies. That is my answer, mademoiselle. The Republic has made a new France, and _I_ am part of it.

At her call I must leave everything and go to her defense."

While he spoke thus, Edme saw his face animated with a light she had learned to know so well,--the same light that had shone from his eyes when he confronted the mob in her chateau; the same fire that flashed as he defended himself before General von Waldenmeer.

"You say I place my duty to the Republic above any earthly consideration," he said. "Let me tell you that I hold your respect still dearer. If I should desert my cause, the cause for which I have lived, should I not lose that respect? Ask your own heart, mademoiselle, would it not be so?"

She stood in silence. Then her eyes met his. He read her answer there before she spoke, and in the look she gave him he thought he read still more--something he dared not believe, scarcely dared hope.

"You are right," she replied, speaking slowly and distinctly. "Go back to France! It is I who bid you go."

"I knew you would tell me to go," he replied.

The sound of voices in the corridor outside fell upon their ears.

"There are Gaillard and the escort," said Tournay, sadly. "Mademoiselle, good-by! I may never see you again. But I thank G.o.d that you are here in safety, and I shall find some happiness in the thought that I have been an instrument in your deliverance."

She did not answer, but stretched out her hand to him. He took it, and dropping on one knee, put it to his lips. "It is for the last time," he said, looking up at her. His face was deadly pale, and there was a look of pleading in his brown eyes.

She placed her other hand upon his head. It was but the slightest touch, as if she yielded to a sudden impulse, and then with the same swift movement she drew away from him.

"As it _must_ be, I pray you to go quickly," she said, and without waiting for a reply she turned and left him.

Tournay rose to his feet,--"I swear to you now, mademoiselle, that some day I shall see you again," and he rushed from the room to the courtyard below.

"Are the horses ready?" he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, grasping Gaillard by the arm.

"At the door with an escort of Prussian officers," was the reply.

"What time is it?"

"Three hours before dark."

"We must be over the frontier and well into France by to-night," was Tournay's rejoinder. "Come!"

Standing by the window, Edme saw him leap into the saddle. He gave one look in her direction, but could not see her, concealed as she was by the heavy curtains.

She heard the officers laughing and talking among themselves. She saw one of the men jump from his horse, tighten a saddle girth, and remount with an agile spring. Then Colonel von Waldenmeer approached and addressed some remark to Robert Tournay. The latter, who had been sitting erect and motionless upon his horse, turned slightly in the saddle to answer the Prussian officer.

Edme could see that his features were set and their expression stern.

Colonel von Waldenmeer mounted his own horse, gave a word of command, and the party started forward.

Edme watched them as they went up the road. Ten horses riding two abreast, the snow flying out from under the heels of the galloping hoofs. She watched them until the square shoulders of Colonel Tournay were hardly distinguishable from those of Colonel Karl who rode beside him. The cavalcade disappeared around a bend in the road, and Edme turned from the wintry aspect without to the dreary salon with a heavy heart.

CHAPTER XII

THE FOUR COMMISSIONERS