The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 10

Simon laid his hand on his wife's head.

"Do you know why Simon Fougere wished to make reparation for the crime of the Vicomte de Talizac?"

"Because Simon Fougere had a loyal and generous heart!"

"Because," said Simon, in solemn tones, "because the Vicomte de Talizac is my brother!"

"Your brother! But who, then, are you?"

"The son of the Marquis de Fongereues," and in a few words Simon explained to his wife the situation already known to our readers.

"I reproach myself," concluded Simon, "for having so long concealed my name from you. I have not seen my father since I was a boy. I am indebted to him for a few years of happiness, but he was under the influence of others who awakened in him the pride of race. He has forgotten the Republican soldier, and has never cared to know whether I lived or died, since the day that he offered me a princely fortune, rank and t.i.tle, to fight against France. But to return to this man, you are sure he is the friend and accomplice of Talizac?"

"I am sure."

"I have never seen my brother, but I know him to be one of the bitterest enemies France has. He has fought against us, and I have heard that he is nearly ruined. Painful as such suspicions are, I am tempted to believe that the appearance of this Karlstein in this out of the way place, is due to the fact that this renegade brother of mine has hunted me up, knowing that at my father's death I can claim my inheritance. I feel as if we were the cause of this attack on Leigoutte, which is really directed on the heir of the Fongereueses."

"Horrible!" murmured Francoise.

"Yes, this officer asked me if this inn belonged to me. Dear wife, it is now doubly our duty to take every measure for the protection of these people. You must take the children away. I must remain with these peasants. I wish you to go to the farm of old Father Lasvene--"

"Yes, I know, a league away, in the Outremont gorge."

"I will take you there. Lasvene is a man of sense, and will not be guilty of any imprudence."

Suddenly Francinette, who was looking out of a window, uttered a shrill cry, and ran to her mother.

"What is it?" exclaimed Simon, rus.h.i.+ng to the window, which he threw open, but could see nothing.

Francoise soothed the little girl and questioned her.

The child, still wild with fear, pointed to the window. "A man! a bad man!"

The father lifted her in his arms.

"No, no," he said, "little Francinette was dreaming. There was no one there!"

"Yes, I saw him; he climbed over the wall!"

Simon took his gun and went out. Presently he returned, and with a look towards his wife that contradicted his words, he said, "No, it is nothing."

At the same time he wrote a few words on a bit of paper, and laid it on the table near his wife. This is what she read:

"The child is right; there are footprints on the wall--a spy undoubtedly." He said aloud: "And now, wife, make haste; there is no time to lose. Francinette, go to the other window and see if your brother is anywhere about. And Francoise," Simon continued rapidly, "I do not think that our separation will last long, yet it is well to be prepared for everything. All my secret and family papers are in this portfolio. Take every care of it. And now, kiss me--let no one see you weep!"

Michel and Jacques now entered.

"Well, Michel, what think you of our recruits?" asked Simon, cheerfully.

"Oh, they are born soldiers, and your boy Jacques is as bright as a b.u.t.ton!"

Simon drew his child toward him.

"My boy, I meant to take your mother and sister to some place of safety, but I am needed here. You must go in my stead."

"Am I not to remain with you, father?" asked the boy, greatly disappointed.

"No--you are to take care of all that is most precious to me in the world. G.o.d bless you all!"

CHAPTER IX.

WHERE THE INVASION Pa.s.sES.

Never was there solitude more complete and more magnificent than at five o'clock that January morning among the Vosges mountains. The snow was piled up, softening the rugged outlines of the mountain peaks and through the pale darkness dim shadows were silently moving. These shadows are the brave mountaineers, who have come to defend France at the summons of Simon, who, in spite of his wooden leg, displayed immense activity. Among these there were no youths. The conscription had long since swallowed them up. They were elderly men and boys. Two of them were but fourteen, but they were vigorous and determined.

"We have arrived in time," said Simon, "but you are sure that there is no other road by which they can reach the village?"

"Only the one by which the wagon came with the wounded, but that, too, is well guarded."

"Yes," answered Simon, "a few brave fellows could keep an army back there, and you know we are continually receiving reinforcements. As soon as they understand that the gorge is impracticable, they will give up the point, and we shall feel that we have rendered effectual aid to France."

In the souls of these patriots there was a singular instinct of discipline. They listened in silence to Simon's words, and obeyed him whom they had taken for their leader without question or argument.

Simon called two men and bade them climb the high rocks on one side of the gorge. From thence they could look down the whole valley. The mists of the night had slowly drifted away, and the wind had died out. A gleam of suns.h.i.+ne, as pale as moonlight, rested on the mountain top.

The mountaineers waited long on the rocks, whither they had been sent, but returned to say that there was not a sound nor a movement.

"Let us go on," said Simon.

The gorge now became so narrow that only three men could move abreast.

On each side rose high walls.

"Now, then," said Simon, "hide here. Keep your eyes open, and waste no ammunition. And you others will pa.s.s through that cleft which commands the lower road. Conceal yourselves well, and as soon as a Cossack appears, fire. Hans!"

A peasant ran at the sound of his name.

"If you hear firing from either of these posts, you are to advance at once with twenty men. Select them now, so that there will be no confusion."

Michel listened to these orders in silence.

"Well, comrade," said Simon, "what do you think of my arrangements?"

"They are excellent, and you ought to be a general."

"I could serve only the Republic," answered Simon, "I resigned in 1804."