The Hour and the Man Part 53

"I never tried," said she. "I have daily felt his loss, because I wished never to cease to feel it."

"He is happier than you, dearest Aimee."

"Do not tell me that men feel such separations less than women; for I know it well already. I can never have been so necessary to him as he is to me; I know that well."

"Say 'was,' my Aimee. The time comes when sisters find their brothers less necessary to them than they have been."

"Such a time has never come to me, and I believe it never will. No one can ever be to me what Isaac has been."

"'Has been;'--true. But see how times have changed! Isaac has left off writing to you so frequently as he did--"

"No, no. He never did write frequently; it was never his habit to write as I wrote to him."

"Well, well. Whatever expectation may lie at the bottom of this little heart, whatever secret remonstrance for his silence, whatever dissatisfaction with his apologies, whatever mortification that such apologies were necessary--"

"How dare you--What right have you to pry into my heart?" exclaimed Aimee, withdrawing herself from her companion's side.

"The right of love," he replied, following till both were seated on the very verge of the water. "Can you suppose that I do not see your disappointment when L'Ouverture opens his dispatches, and there is not one of that particular size and fold which makes your countenance change when you see it? Can you suppose that I do not mark your happiness, for hours and days, after one of those closely-written sheets has come?-- happiness which makes me feel of no account to you--happiness which makes me jealous of my very brother--for my brother he is, as he is yours."

"It should not do that," replied Aimee, as she sat looking into the water. "You should not be _angry_ at my being happy. If you have learned so much of my thoughts--"

"Say on! Oh, say on!"

"There is no need," said she, "if you can read the soul without speech, as you seem to profess."

"I read no thoughts but yours; and none of yours that relate to myself.

I see at a glance every stir of your love to all besides. If you care for me, I need to hear it from yourself."

"If this quarrel comes to bloodshed, what will become of my brothers?

If you love me, tell me that."

"Still these brothers!" cried Vincent, impatiently.

"And who should be inquired of concerning them, if not you? You took them to France; you left them there--"

"I was sent here by Bonaparte--put on the deputation by his express command. If not, I should not now have been here--I should have remembered you only as a child, and--"

"But Placide and Isaac! Suppose Leclerc and Rochambeau both killed-- suppose Madame Leclerc entering once more into her brother's presence, a mourning widow--what would Bonaparte do with Placide and Isaac? I am sure you have no comfort to give me, or you would not so evade what I ask."

"I declare, I protest you are mistaken. Bonaparte is everything that is n.o.ble, and gracious, and gentle."

"You are sure of that?"

"Nay, why not? Have I not always said so? and you have delighted to hear me say so."

"I should delight to believe it now. I will believe it; but yet, if he were really n.o.ble, how should this quarrel have arisen? For, if ever man was n.o.ble, and gracious, and gentle, my father is. If two such men come to open defiance, whose is the crime, and wherein does it lie?"

"If the world fall to pieces, Aimee, there can be no doubt of Bonaparte's greatness. What majesty he carries with him, through all his conquests! How whole nations quail under his magnificent proclamations!"

"Are they really fine? I have seen but few; and they--"

"Are they not all grand? That proclamation in Egypt, for instance, in which he said he was the Man of Fate who had been foretold in the Koran, and that all resistance was impious and vain! If it had not happened four years before Bonaparte went to Egypt, I should have thought your father--"

"I was just thinking of that. But there is a great difference. It was not my father, but Laveaux, who said that the black chief, predicted by Raynal, had appeared. And it was originally said, not as a divine prophecy, but because, in the natural course of things, the redeemer of an oppressed race must arise. Besides, my father says nothing but what he believes; and I suppose Bonaparte did not believe what he was saying."

"Do you think not? For my part, I believe his very words--that to oppose him is impious and vain."

"Heaven pity us, if that be true! Was it not in that proclamation that Bonaparte said that men must account to him for their secret thoughts, as nothing was concealed from him?"

"Yes; just as L'Ouverture told the mulattoes in the church at Cap that, from the other side of the island, his eye would be upon them, and his arm stretched out, to restrain or punish. He almost reached Bonaparte's strain there."

"I like my father's words the best, because all understood and believed what he said. Bonaparte may claim to read secret thoughts; but before my father, men have no secret thoughts--they love him so that their minds stand open."

"Then those Italian proclamations, and letters to the Directory," said Vincent; "how they grew grander, as city after city, and state after state, fell before him! When he summoned Pavia to open her gates to him, after her insurrection, how imperious he was! If he had found that a drop of French blood had been shed, he declared not a stone of the city should have remained; but a column should arise in its place, bearing the inscription, 'Here once stood Pavia!' There spoke the man who held the ages in his hand, ready to roll them over the civilised world--to crumble cities, and overthrow nations, in case of resistance to his will! How Paris rang with acclamations when these words pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth! He was wors.h.i.+pped as a G.o.d."

"It is said," sighed Aimee, "that Leclerc has proclamations from him for our people. I wonder what they are, and how they will be received."

"With enthusiasm, no doubt. When and where has it been otherwise? You shudder, my Aimee; but, trust me, there is inconceivable folly in the idea of opposing Bonaparte. As he said in Egypt, it is impious and vain. Trust me, love, and decide accordingly."

"Desert my father and my family in their hour of peril! I will not do that."

"There is no peril in the case, love; it is glory and happiness to live under Bonaparte. My life upon it, he will do your father no injury, but continue him in his command, under certain arrangements; and, as for the blacks, they and the whites will join in one common enthusiasm for the conqueror of Europe. Let us be among the first, my Aimee! Be mine; and we will go to the French forces--among my friends there. It is as if we were called to be mediators; it is as if the welfare of your family and the colony were, in a measure, consigned to our hands. Once married, and with Leclerc, how easily may we explain away causes of quarrel! How completely shall we make him understand L'Ouverture! And how, through us, Leclerc can put your father in possession of the views of Bonaparte: Oh, Aimee, be mine, and let us go!"

"And if it were otherwise--if it came to bloodshed--to deadly warfare?"

"Then, love, you would least of all repent. Alone and desolate--parted from your brothers--parted from me."

"From you, Vincent?"

"a.s.suredly. I can never unsheath my sword against those to whom my attachment is strong. I can never fight against an army from Paris-- troops that have been led by Bonaparte."

"Does my father know that?"

"He cannot know me if he antic.i.p.ates anything else. I execute his orders at present, because I admire his system of government, and am anxious that it should appear to the best advantage to the brother-in-law of the First Consul. Thus, I am confident that there will be no war. But, love, if there should be, you will be parted for ever from your brothers and from me, by remaining here--you will never again see Isaac. Nay, nay! No tears! no terrors, my Aimee! By being mine, and going with me to that place where all are happy--to Paris--you will, through my interest, best aid your father; and Isaac and I will watch over you for ever."

"Not a word more, Vincent! You make me wretched. Not a word more, till I have spoken to my father. He must, he will tell me what he thinks, what he expects--whether he fears. Hark! There are hors.e.m.e.n!"

"Can it be? Hors.e.m.e.n approaching on this side? I will look out."

"No, no! Vincent, you shall not go--"

Her terror was so great that Vincent could not indeed leave her. As the tramp of a company of hors.e.m.e.n became almost lost on quitting the hard road for the deep sand, he dropped his voice, whispering in her ear that she was quite safe, completely hidden under the mangroves, and that he would not leave her. She clasped his hand with both hers, to compel him to keep his word, and implored him not to speak--not to shake a leaf of their covert.

The company pa.s.sed very near; so near as that the sand thrown up by the horses' feet pattered among the foliage of the mangroves. No one of the strangers was then speaking; but in another moment the sentry challenged them. They laughed, and were certainly stopping at the little gate.

"We know your master, fellow," said one. "We have had more talk with him in one day than you in all your service."

"I am sure I ought to know that voice," whispered Aimee, drawing a long breath.