Taking the Bastile (59 page)

‘Ah I ah 1’ cried he, sighing, ‘looking towards the forest, towards Boursonne, towards Monsieur Isidore de Charny. Yes, that is it. 1

And he heaved a second sigh, more melancholy than the first. And at this moment the messengers returned, not only from the laundry, but from every place in which it was probable Mademoiselle Catherine might be found.

‘Well?’ inquired Madame Billot.

‘We have not seen mademoiselle.’

‘Catherine I Catherine 1’ cried Madame Billot.

The young girl did not hear her.

Pitou then ventured to speak.

‘Madame Billot,’ said he, ‘I well know why they did not find Mademoiselle Catherine at the laundry.’

‘And why did they not find her?’

PITOU A REVOLUTIONIST 389

‘Because she is not there.’

‘Where is she, then?’

‘ Yonder upstairs.’

And taking Dame Billot by the hand, he made her go up three or four first steps of the staircase, and showed her Catherine, who was sitting on the sill of the window.

‘She is dressing her hair,’ said the good woman.

‘Alas I no; her hair is already dressed,’ replied Pitou, in a melancholy tone.

The farmer’s wife paid no attention to Pitou’a melancholy, but in a loud voice, she called, ‘Catherine 1 Catherine 1’

The young girl started with surprise, quickly closed her window, and said, ‘ Vhat is the matter?’

‘Come down, then, Catherine 1’ cried Dame Billot, little doubting the joyful effect her words would produce upon her. ‘Come down here; here is Ange just arrived from Paris.’

Pi top, with great anxiety, listened for the answer which Catherine would make.

‘Ah I’ coldly replied Catherine. So coldly, that poor Pitou’s heart sank within him.

‘Well,’ said she, when she reached the kitchen floor, “why, it is really Pitou I’

Pitou bowed, blushing deeply, and trembling in every nerve,

‘He has a helmet,’ said a servant-maid, whispering into her mistress’s ear.

Pitou overheard her, and watched the effect produced on Catherine’s countenance. A lovely countenance, perhaps somewhat paler, but still full and peach-like. But Catherine did not evince any admiration for Pitou’s helmet.

‘Ah I he has a helmet,’ she said, ‘and for what purpose ?’

This time indignation mastered every other feeling in the mind of the bold youth.

‘I have a helmet and a sabre,’ said he proudly, ‘because I have fought and killed German dragoons and Swiss soldiers; and if you doubt it, Mademoiselle Catherine, ask your father, and he will tell you.’

Catherine’s mind was so preoccupied that she heard only the last words uttered by Pitou.

‘And how is my father?’ inquired she, ‘How happens

39 TAKING THE BASTILLE

it that he did not return with you? Is there bad news from Paris?’

‘Very bad replied Pitou.

‘I thought that everything had been arranged.’ observed Catherine.

‘Yes, that is true; but everything is disarranged again,’ rejoined Pitou.

‘Was there not a reconciliation between the king and the people, and was not Monsieur Necker recalled ? ‘

‘But little is thought of Monsieur Necker,’ said Pitou,

‘And yet that satisfied the people did it not?’

‘It so well satisfied them that the people are now about to do themselves justice and to kill all their enemies.’

‘All their enemies 1’ exclaimed Catherine with astonishment; ‘who, then, are the enemies of the people?’

‘The aristocrats, to be sure,’ said Pitou.

Catherine turned pale.

‘But who do they call aristocrats?’ she asked.

‘Why, those who have large estates those who have fine country-seats those who starve the nation those who have all, while we have nothing.’

‘Great God I’ exclaimed the young girl, becoming so pale as to be positively livid.

Pitou remarked this change in her countenance.

‘I call aristocrats some persons of your acquaintance.’

‘Who is it, then?’ said Catherine.

‘Monsieur Berthier de Sauvigny, for instance.’

‘Monsieur Berthier de Sauvigny?’

‘Who gave you the gold buckles which you wore the day you danced with Monsieur Isidore 1’

Well?’

‘Well : I saw people eating his heart, I, who am now speaking to you.’

A cry of terror was uttered by all present.

‘You saw that?’ cried Madame Billot, trembling with horror.

‘And Monsieur Billot saw it too.’

‘Oh I good God I’

‘Yes and by this time they must have killed or burned all the aristocrats of Paris and Versailles.’

‘It is frightful ‘ murmured Catherine.

‘Friahtful 1 and why so? You are not an aristocrat, you. Mademoiselle Billot?’

‘Monsieur Pitou,’ said Catherine, with gloomy energy.

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‘it appears to me that you were not so ferocious before you went to Paris.’

‘And I am not more so now, mademoiselle,’ said Pitou, somewhat staggered, ‘but ‘

‘But, then, do not boast of the crimes committed by the Parisians, since you are not a Parisian, and that you did not commit these crimes.’

‘I was so far from committing them,’ said Pitou, ‘that Monsieur Billot and myself narrowly escaped being murdered while defending Monsieur Berthier.’

‘Oh 1 my good father ! my brave father I I recognise him there r enthusiastically exclaimed Catherine.

‘My good, my worthy man I’ cried Madame Billot, her eyes streaming with tears, ‘Tell me, what did he do?’

Pitou then related the whole of the dreadful scene which had occurred on the Place de Greve, the despair of Billot,, and his desire to return to Villers-Cotterfets.

‘Why did he not return, then?’ cried Catherine, and in an accent that deeply moved Pitou’s heart.

Dame Billot clasped her hands.

‘Monsieur Gilbert would not allow it,’ replied Pitou.

‘Does Monsieur Gilbert wish, then, that my husband should be lolled?’ said Madame Billot, sobbing.

‘Does he wish, then, that my father’s house should be ruined?’ added Catherine, in the same tone of gloomy melancholy.

‘Oh I by no means !’ cried Pitou; ‘Monsieur Billot and Monsieur Gilbert understand each other; Monsieur Billot will remain still some time at Paris, to finish the revolution.’

‘When does he think of returning?’ inquired Catherine.

‘Oh I as to that, mademoiselle, I cannot tell.’

‘And you, Pitou, how happens it, then, that you have returned I’

‘Who I? Why, I brought back Sebastian Gilbert to the Abb6 Fortier, and I have come here to bring you Monsieur Billot’s instructions.’

Pitou, while saying these words, rose, not without a certain degree of diplomatic dignity, which was understood, if not by the servants, at all events by their mistress.

Dame Billot rose, and at once dismissed all the labourers and servants.

59 TAKING THE BASTILLE

THE two women summoned up all their attention to listen to the desires of this honoured husband and father. Pitou was well aware that the task was a difficult one; he had seen both Dame Billot and Catherine filling their several stations at the farm; he knew the habit of command of the one, and the firm independence of the other. Catherine, who was so gentle a daughter, so laborious, so good, had acquired, by virtue of these very qualities, a very great ascendency over every person connected with the farm. Reducing Madame Billot to play a secondary part appeared to him unnatural, absurd. It gave Catherine more importance with regard to Pitou, and under actual circumstances Catherine by no means needed this. He expressed himself in the following terms :

‘Madame Billot, Monsieur Billot’s intention is that you should have the slightest possible annoyance.

‘And how so?’ cried the good woman, much surprised.

‘ Vhat is the meaning of the word annoyance?’ said Catherine.

‘It means to say,’ replied Pitou, ‘that the management of a farm like yours is a species of government replete with cares and labour, that there are bargains to be

tna.f 1 ft ‘

‘And what of that?’ said the worthy woman,

‘ Payments ‘

‘Well?’

‘Fields to plough ‘

‘Go on.’

‘Money to be collected-

‘Who says the contrary?’ ‘fto one. assuredly, Madame Billot; but in order to make bargains, it is necessary to travel about.’ ‘1 have my horse.’

‘In paying, it is often necessary to dispute.’ ‘Oh 1 1 have a good tongue.’ ‘To cultivate the fields.’ ‘Am I not accustomed to agriculture?’ ‘And to get in the harvest h-Ah 1 that is quite another

393

matter; meals have to be cooked for the labourers, the wagoners must be assisted.’

‘For the welfare of my good man, to do all these would not frighten me I* cried the worthy woman.

‘But, Madame Billot in short so much work and getting rather aged ‘

‘Ah I’ cried Dame Billot, looking askance at Pitou.

‘Come to my assistance, Mademoiselle Catherine,’ said the poor lad, finding his energy diminishing by degrees as his position became more and more difficult.

‘I do not know what I am to do to assist you,’ replied Catherine.

‘Well, then, this is the plain fact,’ rejoined Pitou. ‘Monsieur Billot does not desire that Madame Billot should be subjected to so mucn trouble ‘

‘ And who, then ? ‘ cried she, interrupting him, trembling at once with admiration find respect.

‘He has chosen some on<_ who is stronger, and who is both himself and yourself. He has appointed Mademoiselle Catherine.’

‘My daughter Catherine io govern the house !’ exclaimed the wounded mother, with an accent of mistrust and inexpressible jealousy.

‘Under your directions, my dear mother,’ the young girl hastened to say, and blushing deeply.

‘By no means by no means 1’ cried Pitou, who, from the moment he had summoned up courage enough to speak out, was determined to go through with it; ‘it is not so 1 I must execute my commission to the letter. Monsieur Billot delegates and authorises Mademoiselle Catherine in his stead and place to attend to all the work and all the affairs of the house.’

Every one of these words, which bora the accent of truth, penetrated the heart of the housekeeper; and so excellent was her nature, that instead of allowing the jealousy she had at first naturally felt to become more bitter, or her anger to become more violent, the certainty of her diminution 111 importance appeared to make her more resigned, more obedient, and more convinced of the infallibility of her husband’s judgment. She looked at her daughter, in whose eyes she saw only modesty, confidence, thu desire to succeed, unalterable tenderness and respect. Sne yielded absolutely.

394 TAKING THE BASTILLE

‘Monsieur Billot is right she said; ‘Catherine is young, she has a good head, she is even headstrong.’

‘Oh I yes,’ said Pitou, certain that he had flattered the self-love of Catherine at the same time that he indulged in an epigram at her expense.

‘Catherine,’ continued Dame Billot, ‘win be more at her ease than 1 should be upon the road. She could better look after the labourers for whole days than I could. She would sell better; she would make purchases with greater surcness; she would know how to make herself obeyed.’

Catherine smiled.

‘Well, then,’ continued the good woman, without even being compelled to make an effort to restrain a sigh, ‘here is our Catherine, who is going to have all her own way : she will run about as she pleases she will now have the command of the purse now she will always be seen upon the roads my daughter, in short, transformed into a lad ‘

‘You need be under no apprehension for Mademoiselle Catherine,’ said Pitou, with a self-sufficient air; ‘I am here, and I will accompany her wherever she goes.’

This gracious offer, on which Ange perhaps calculated to produce an effect, produced so strange a look on the part of Catherine that he was quite confused. The young girl blushed not as women do when anything agreeable has been said to them, but with a sort of double feeling of anger and impatience, evincing at once a desire to speak and the necessity of remaining silent.

‘You are not aware, then. Monsieur Pitou, that you have uttered a stupidity?’

‘A stupidity?’ exclaimed the lover.

‘Assuredly r cried Dame Billot, ‘ to think of my daughter Catherine going about with a bodyguard.’

‘But, in short, in the woods, 1 said Pitou, with an air so ingenuously conscientious that it would have been a crime to laugh at him.

‘Is that also in the instructions of our good man?’ continued Dame Billot.

‘Oh I’ added Catherine, ‘that would be too indolent a profession, which neither my father would have advised Monsieur Pitou to adopt, nor would Monsieur Pitou have accepted it.’

Pitou rolled his large and terrified eyes from Catherine

MADAME BILLOT ABDICATES 395

to Dame Billot Catherine, as a true woman, at once comprehended the painful disappointment of Pitou.

‘Monsieur Pitou, said she, was it at Paris that you have seen young girls compromising their reputation in this way by always dragging young men after them?’

‘But you are not a young girl, you,’ stammered Pitou, ‘since you are the mistress of the house.’

‘Come, come, we have talked enough for to-night abruptly said Dame Billot. ‘The mistress of the house will have much to do to-morrow, when I shall give up the house to her, according to her father’s orders. Come, Catherine, we must prepare for bed. Good-night, Pitou,’

Pitou bowed with great deference to the two ladies, which Catherine returned with a slight inclination of the head. Poor Ange retired for the night to the small room he had formerly occupied at the farm, and although greatly disappointed at the coldness of Catherine’s reception, he soon fell asleep, to which the fatigue of the day greatly induced. The next morning he was up soon after daybreak, but saw nothing of Catherine until the whole family assembled at the breakfast table.

After this substantial repast was concluded, a ceremony was commenced before the astounded eyes of Pitou, a ceremony that was not deficient in grandeur nor in poetry, from its rustic simplicity. Dame Billot drew her keys from off the bunch, one by one. and delivered them to Catherine, giving her a list of the linen, of the furniture, the provisions, and the contents of the cellars. She conducted her daughter to the old secretary, or bureau, made of mahogany inlaid with ivory and ebony, somewhere about the year 1738 or 1740, in the secret drawer of which Fathei Billot locked up his most valuable capers, his golden louis, and all the treasures and archives of the family. Catherine gravely allowed herself to be invested with the supreme command over everything, and took due note of the secret drawers; she questioned her mother with much intelligence, reflected on each answer, and the information she required being obtained, appeared to store it up in the depths of her memory, as a weapon in reserve in case of any contest.