The House of the Combrays Part 8

"I returned from the fair," he says, "towards one o'clock in the afternoon, and while I was harnessing the horses I saw a valise and night bag in the carriage. Colin, the servant at La Bijude, threw two bundles of straw in the carriage for the ladies to sit on, and Mme. de Combray gave me a portmanteau, a package which seemed to contain linen, and an umbrella to put in the carriage. On the road I made the horses trot, but Mme. Acquet told me not to go so fast because they didn't want to arrive at Caen before evening, seeing that they had stolen money in the carriage. I looked at her, but said nothing, but I said to myself: 'This is another of her tricks; if I had known this before we started I would have left them behind; she used deceit to compromise me, not being able to do so openly.' When I reproached her for it some days later she said: 'I suspected that if I had told you of it, you would not have gone.' During the journey the ladies talked together, but the noise of the carriage prevented me from hearing what they said. However, I heard Mme. Acquet say that this money would serve to pay some debts or to give to the unfortunate. I also heard her say that Le Chevalier had great wit, and Mme. de Combray replied that M. d'Ache's wit was keener; that Le Chevalier had perhaps a longer tongue...."

The itinerary arranged by Lefebre, left the main road at Saint-Andre-de-Fontenay near the hamlet of Ba.s.se-Allemagne; night was falling when Lanoe's carriage crossed the Orne at the ferry of Athis.

From there they went to Bretteville-sur-Odon in order to enter the town as if they had come from Vire or Bayeux. The notary had arrived during the day at Caen, and after having left his horse at the inn at Vaucelles, he crossed the town on foot and went to meet "the treasure"

on the Vire road. Just as eight was striking he reached the first houses in Bretteville and was going to turn back, astonished at not meeting the cart when Mme. Acquet called to him from a window. He entered; Mme. de Combray and her daughter had stopped there while Lanoe was having one of the wheels mended. They took some refreshment, rested the horses and set out again at ten o'clock. Lefebre got in with them and when they arrived at Granville he got down and paid the duty on the two bundles of straw that were in the waggon, and then entered the town without further delay.

By the notary's advice they had decided to take the money to Gelin's inn, in the Rue Pavee. Gelin was the son-in-law of Lerouge, called Bornet, whom Le Chevalier sometimes employed, but the waggon was too large to get into the courtyard of the inn; some troops had been pa.s.sing that day and the house was filled with soldiers. They could not stay there, but had to leave the money there, and while Gelin watched, the Marquise, uneasy at finding herself in such a place, unable to leave the yard because the waggon stopped the door, had to a.s.sist in unloading it.

Two men were very busy about the waggon, one of them held a dark lantern; Lefebre, Lerouge and even Mme. Acquet pulled the sacks from the straw and threw them into the house by a window on the ground floor.

Mme. de Combray seemed to feel her decadence for the first time; she found herself mixed up in one of those expeditions that she had until then represented as chivalrous feats of arms, and these by-ways of brigandage filled her with horror.

"But they are a band of rascals," she said to Lanoe, and she insisted on his taking her away; she was obliged to pa.s.s through the inn filled with men drinking. At last, outside, without turning round she went to the Hotel des Trois Marchands, opposite Notre-Dame, where she usually stayed.

Mme. Acquet had no such qualms; she supped with the men, and in the night had a mysterious interview with Allain behind the walls of Notre-Dame. Where Mme. Acquet slept that night is not known; she only appeared at the Hotel des Trois Marchands four days later, where she met Mme. de Combray who had just returned from Bayeux. In her need of comfort the Marquise had tried to see d'Ache and find out if it were true that Allain had acted according to his orders, but d'Ache had a.s.sured his old friend that he disapproved of such vile deeds, and that "he was still worthy of her esteem." She had returned to Caen much grieved at having allowed herself to be deceived by her daughter and the lawyer; she told them nothing of her visit to Bayeux, except that she had not seen d'Ache and that he was still in England; then, quite put out, she returned to Falaise in the coach, not wanting to travel with her daughter. Mme. Acquet, the same day,--Thursday the 23d July--took a carriage that ran from Caen to Harcourt and got down at Forge-a-Cambro where Lanoe, who had returned to Donnay on Monday, was waiting, with his waggon.

As soon as she was seated Lanoe informed her that the gendarmes had gone to Donnay and searched the Buquets' house, but left without arresting any one; "a man in a long black coat was conducting them." Mme. Acquet asked several questions, then told Lanoe to whip up the horses and remained silent until they reached La Bijude; he observed her with the corner of his eye, and saw that she was very pale. When they arrived at the village she went immediately to the Buquets and remained a quarter of an hour closeted with Joseph. No doubt she was making a supreme effort to get some money from him; she reappeared with heightened colour and very excited. "Quick, to Falaise," she said. But Lanoe told her he had something to do at home, and that his horse could not be always on the go. But she worried him until he consented to take her.

While the horse was being fed Mme. Acquet went to La Bijude and threw herself on the bed, fully dressed. The day had been very heavy and towards evening lightning flashed brightly. About two in the morning Lanoe knocked on the window and Mme. Acquet appeared, ready to start.

She got up behind him, and they took the road by the forest of Saint-Clair and Bonnoeil, and when they were going through the wood the storm burst with extraordinary violence, huge gusts bent the trees, breaking the branches, the rain fell in torrents, changing the road to a river; the horse still advanced however, but towards day, when approaching the village of Noron, Mme. Acquet suddenly felt such violent indisposition that she fell to the ground in a faint. Lanoe laid her on the side of the road in the mud. When she came to herself she begged him to leave her there, and hasten to Falaise and bring back Lefebre; she seemed to be haunted by the thought of the man in the black overcoat who had guided the gendarmes at Donnay. Lanoe, in a great fright, obeyed, but Lefebre could not come before afternoon; at Noron they found Mme.

Acquet in an inn to which she had dragged herself. The poor woman was in a fever, and almost raving she told Lefebre that she had no money to give him; that the gendarmes had been to Donnay; that the man who showed them the way was probably one of Allain's companions, but that she feared nothing and was going there to bring back the money.

Lefebre tried to calm her, but when he left after half an hour's talk, she tried Lanoe, begging him to take her back to Donnay; he resisted strongly, not wanting to hear any more of the affair, but at last he softened at her despair, but swore that now he had had enough of it, and would leave her at La Bijude. She agreed to all, climbed on the horse, and taking Lanoe round the waist as before, her dripping garments clinging to her s.h.i.+vering form, she started again for Donnay. When pa.s.sing Villeneuve, a farm belonging to her brother Bonnoeil she saw a group of women gesticulating excitedly; the farmer Truffault came up and in response to her anxious enquiries, replied:

"A misfortune has taken place; the gendarmes have been to the Buquets, and taken the father, mother and eldest son. Joseph, who hid himself, is alone and very unhappy."

The farmer added that he had just sent his boy to Falaise to inform Mme.

de Combray of the event. Mme. Acquet got off her horse, drew Truffault aside and questioned him in a low voice. When she returned to Lanoe she was as white as a wax candle. "I am lost," she said, "Joseph Buquet will denounce me."

Then, with a steady look, speaking to herself: "I could also, in my turn denounce Allain, seeing that he is an outlaw, but where should I say I had met him?" She seemed most uneasy, not knowing what to do. Then she hinted that she must go back to Falaise. But Lanoe was inflexible, he swore he would go no further, and that she could apply to the farmer if she wanted to. And giving his horse the rein he went off at a trot, leaving her surrounded by the peasants, who silently gazed in wondering consternation at the daughter of "their lady" covered with mud, wild-eyed, her arms swinging and her whole appearance so hopeless and forlorn as to awaken pity in the hardest heart.

The same evening the lawyer Lefebre, learned on reaching home, that Mme.

de Combray had sent her gardener to ask him to come to her immediately in the Rue du Tripot. But worn out, he threw himself on his bed and slept soundly till some one knocked at his door about one in the morning. It was the gardener again, who was so insistent that Lefebre decided to go with him in spite of fatigue. He found the Marquise wild with anxiety. Truffault's boy had told her of the arrest of the Buquets, and she had not gone to bed, expecting to see the gendarmes appear; her only idea was to fly to Tournebut and hide herself there with her daughter; she begged the lawyer to accompany them, and while excitedly talking, tied a woollen shawl round her head. Lefebre, who was calmer, told her that he had left Mme. Acquet at Noron in a state of exhaustion, that they must wait until she was in a condition to travel before starting, and that it would be impossible to obtain a carriage at this time of night. But Mme. de Combray would listen to nothing; she gave her gardener three crowns to go to Noron and tell Mme. Acquet that she must start immediately for Tournebut by Saint-Sylvain and Lisieux; then traversing the deserted streets with Lefebre, who stopped at his house to get the three thousand francs, from the robbery of June 7th, she reached the Val d'Ante and took the road to Caen.

It was very dark; the storm had ceased but the rain still fell heavily.

The old Marquise continued her journey over the flooded roads, defying fatigue and only stopping occasionally to make sure she was not followed. Lefebre, now afraid also, hastened his steps beside her, bending beneath the weight of his portmanteau filled with crowns.

Neither spoke. The endless road was the same one taken by the waggon containing the Alencon money on the day of the robbery, and the remembrance of this rendered their wild night march still more tragic.

It was scarcely dawn when the fugitives crossed the wood of Quesnay; at Langannerie they left the highroad and crossed by Bretteville-le-Rabet.

It was now broad daylight, barns were opening, and people looked astonished at this strange couple who seemed to have been walking all night; the Marquise especially puzzled them, with her hair clinging to her cheeks, her skirts soaked and her slippers covered with mud. But no one dared question them.

At six in the morning Mme. de Combray and her companion arrived at Saint-Sylvain, five good leagues from Falaise. If Mme. Acquet had succeeded in leaving Noron they ought to meet her there. Lefebre enquired at the inn, but no one had been there. They waited for two hours which the lawyer employed in seeking a waggon to go on to Lisieux.

A peasant agreed to take them for fifteen francs paid in advance, and about eight o'clock, as Mme. Acquet had not arrived they decided to start. They stopped at Croissanville a little further on, and while breakfasting, Lefebre wrote to Lanoe telling him to find Mme. Acquet at once and tell her to hasten to her mother at Tournebut.

The rest of the journey was uneventful. They reached Lisieux at supper-time and slept there. The next day Mme. de Combray took two places under an a.s.sumed name, in the coach for Evreux, where they arrived in the evening. The fugitives had a refuge in the Rue de l'Union with an old Chouan named Vergne, who had been in orders before the Revolution, but had become a doctor since the pacification. Next day Mme. de Combray and Lefebre made five leagues from Evreux to Louviers; they got out before entering the town as the Marquise wished to avoid the Hotel du Mouton where she was known. They went by side streets to the bridge of the Eure where they hired a carriage which took them by nightfall to the hamlet of Val-Tesson. They were now only a league from Tournebut which they could reach by going through the woods. But would they not find gendarmes there? Mme. de Combray's flight might have aroused suspicion at Falaise, Caen and Bayeux, and brought police supervision to her house. It was nine in the evening when, after an hour's walk, she reached the Hermitage. She thought it prudent to send Lefebre on ahead, and accompanied him to the gate where she left him to venture in alone. All appeared tranquil in the chateau, the lawyer went into the kitchen where he found a scullery maid who called Soyer, the confidential man, and Mme. de Combray only felt safe when she saw the latter himself come to open a door into the garden; she then slipped, without being seen, into her own room.

CHAPTER VI

THE YELLOW HORSE

The man in the "black overcoat" who had conducted the gendarmes on their visit to Donnay, was no other than "Grand-Charles," one of Allain's followers. He had been arrested at Le Chalange on July 14th, and had consented without hesitation, to show the spot in the Buquets' garden where the money had been hidden. He recognised the position of the house and garden, the room in which Allain and his companions had been received on the night of the robbery, and even the gla.s.s which Mme.

Buquet had filled for him. At the bottom of the garden traces of the excavation that had contained the money were found; the loft contained linen, and other effects of Mme. Acquet; her miniature was hanging on the wall of Joseph's room. Joseph alone had fled; his father, mother, and brother were taken to prison in Caen the same evening.

"Grand-Charles," who did not want to be the only one compromised, showed the greatest zeal in searching for his accomplices. As Querelle had done before, he led Manginot and his thirty gendarmes over all the country, until they reached the village of Mancelliere, which pa.s.sed as the most famous resort of malcontents in a circuit of twenty leagues. As in the happiest days of the Chouan revolt, there were b.l.o.o.d.y combats between the gendarmes and the deserters. After one of these engagements Pierre-Francois Harel,--who had pa.s.sed most of his time since the Quesnay robbery in a barrel sunk in the earth at the bottom of a garden--was arrested in the house of a M. Lebougre, where he had gone to get some brandy and salt to dress a wound. But Manginot made a more important capture in Flierle, who was living peacefully at Amaye-sur-Orne, with one of his old captains, Rouault des Vaux. Flierle told his story as soon as he was interrogated; he knew that "high personages" were in the plot, and thought they would think twice before pus.h.i.+ng things to an issue.

If Manginot was thus acting with an energy worthy of praise, he received none from Caffarelli, who was distressed at the turn affairs had taken, and wished that the affair of Quesnay might be reduced to the proportions of a simple incident. He interrogated the prisoners with the reserve and precaution of a man who was interfering in what did not concern him, and if he learned from Flierle much that he would rather not have known about the persistent organisation of the Chouans in Calvados, he could get no information concerning the deed that had led to his arrest.

The German did not conceal his fear of a.s.sa.s.sination if he should speak, Allain having promised, on June 8th, at the bridge of Landelle, "poison, or pistol shot to the first who should reveal anything, and the a.s.sistance of two hundred determined men to save those who showed discretion, from the vengeance of Bonaparte."

Things were different in Paris. The police were working hard, and Fouche was daily informed of the slightest details bearing on the events that were taking place in Lower Normandy. For several weeks detectives had been watching a young man who arrived in Paris the second fortnight of May; he was often seen in the Palais-Royal, and called himself openly "General of the Chouans," and a.s.sumed great importance. The next report gave his name as Le Chevalier, from Caen, and more information was demanded of Caffarelli. The Prefect of Calvados replied that the description tallied with that of a man who had often been denounced to him as an incorrigible royalist; he was easy to recognise as he had lost the use of his left arm:

The police received orders not to lose sight of this person. He lived at the Hotel de Beauvais, Rue des Vieux-Augustins, a house that had been known since the Revolution as the resort of royalists pa.s.sing through Paris. Le Chevalier went out a great deal; he dined in town nearly every night, with people of good position. He was followed for a fortnight; then the order for his arrest was given, and on July 15th he was taken, handcuffed, to the prefecture of police and accused of partic.i.p.ation in the robbery at Quesnay.

Le Chevalier was not the man to be caught napping. His looks, his manner and his eloquence had got him out of so many sc.r.a.pes, that he doubted not they would once more save his life. The letter he wrote to Real on the day of his arrest is so characteristic of him--at once familiar and haughty--that it would be a pity not to quote it:

"Arrested on a suspicion of brigandage, of which it is as important to justify myself as painful to have to do it, but full of confidence in my honour, which is unimpeachable, and in the well-known justice of your character, I beg you to grant me a few minutes' audience, during which--being well disposed to answer your questions, and even to forestall them--I flatter myself that I can convince you that the condition of my affairs and, above all, my whole conduct in life, raise me above any suspicion of brigandage whatever. I hope also, Monsieur, that this conversation, the favour of which your justice will accord me, will convince you that I am not mad enough to engage in political brigandage, or to engage in a struggle with the government to which the proudest sovereigns have yielded....

"A. Le Chevalier."

And to prove that he had taken no part in the robbery of June 7th, he added to his letter twenty affirmations of honourable and well-known persons who had either seen or dined with him in Paris each day of the month from the 1st to the 20th. Among these were the names of his compatriot, the poet Chenedolle, and Dr. Dupuytren whom he had consulted on the advisability of amputating the fingers of his left hand, long useless. He had even taken care to be seen at the Te Deum sung in Notre-Dame for the taking of Dantzig. His precautions had been well taken, and once again his aplomb was about to save him, when Real, much embarra.s.sed by this soft spoken prisoner, thought of sending him to Caen, in the hope that confronting him with Flierle, Grand-Charles and the Buquets might have some result. Caffarelli was convinced that Le Chevalier was the leader in the plot, yet they had searched carefully in his house in the Rue Saint-Sauveur; without finding anything but some private papers. Flierle had recognised him as the man to whom he acted as secretary and courier, yet Le Chevalier had contemptuously replied that "the German was not the sort to be his servant, and that their only connection was that of benefactor and recipient." It was out of the question that any tribunal could be found to condemn a man who on the day of the crime had been sixty leagues from the place where it was committed. As to convicting him as a royalist who approved of the theft of public funds--they might as well do the same with all Normandy.

Besides, to Caffarelli, who had no allusions as to the sentiments of the district, and who was always in fear of a new Chouan explosion, the presence of Le Chevalier in prison at Caen was a perpetual nightmare.

Allain might suddenly appear with an army, and make an attempt to carry off his chief similar to that which, under the Directory, saved the lives of the Vicomte de Chambray and Chevalier Destouches, to the amus.e.m.e.nt and delight of the whole province. And this is why the prudent prefect, not caring to enc.u.mber himself with such a compromising prisoner, in four days, obtained Real's permission to send him back to Paris, where he was confined in the Temple. Ah! What a fine letter he wrote to the Chief of Police, as soon as he arrived there, and how he posed as the unlucky rival of Napoleon!

This profession of faith is too long to be given entirely, but it throws such light on the character of the writer, and on the illusions which the royalists obstinately fostered during the most brilliant period of the imperial regime, that a few extracts are indispensable.

"You wished to know the truth concerning the declarations of Flierle on my account, and on the projects that he divulged. I will tell you of them. Denial suits well a criminal who fears the eye of justice, but it is foreign to a character that fears nothing and to whom the first success of his enterprises lies in the esteem of his enemies.

"Your Excellency will kindly see in me neither a man trembling at death, nor a mind seduced by the hope of reward. I ask nothing to tell what I think, for in telling it I satisfy myself. I planned an insurrection against Napoleon's government, I desired his ruin, if I have not been able to effect it, it is because I have always been badly seconded and often betrayed.

"What were my means of entertaining at least the hope of success?

Not wis.h.i.+ng to appear absolutely mad in your eyes, I am going to make them known; but not wis.h.i.+ng to betray the confidence of those who would have served me, I shall withhold the details.

"I was born generous, and a lover of glory. After the amnesty of the year VIII I was the richest among my comrades: my money, well dispensed, procured me followers. For several years I watched for a favourable moment to revolt. The last campaign in Austria offered this occasion. Every one in the West believed in the defection of the French armies; I did not believe in it, but was going to profit by the general opinion. Victory came too quickly, and I had hardly time to plan anything.

"After having established connections in several departments, I left for Paris. There, all concurred in fortifying my hopes. Many republicans shared my wishes; I negotiated with them for a reunion of parties, to make action more certain and reaction less strong.

The movement must take place in the capital, a provisional government must be established,--all France would have pa.s.sed through a new regime before the Emperor returned.

"But it did not take me long to discover that the republicans had not all the means they boasted.... I returned to the royalists in the capital; they were disunited and without plans. I had only a few men in Paris; I abandoned my designs there, and returned to the provinces. There I could collect two or three thousand men, and as soon as I had done that I should have sent to ask the Bourbon princes to put themselves at the head of my troops....

"But at the opening of the second campaign my plans were postponed.

However, the measures I had been obliged to take could not remain secret. Some refractory conscripts, some deserters, appeared armed, at different places; they had to be maintained, and without an order _ad hoc_, but by virtue of general instructions, one of my officers possessed himself of the public funds for the purpose....

The guilty ones are ... myself, for whom I ask nothing, not from pride, for the haughtiest spirit need not feel humiliated at receiving grace from one who has granted it to kings, but from honour. Your Excellency will no doubt wish to know the motive that urged me to conceive and nourish such projects. The motive is this: I have seen the unhappiness of the amnestied, and my own misfortune; people proscribed in the state, cla.s.sed as serfs, excluded not only from all employment, but also tyrannised by those who formerly only lacked the courage to join their cause....