Taking the Bastile (65 page)

Pitou paused.

‘Ah 1 I have an idea.’

He began to stride as fast as his long legs would permit, but was suddenly brought to a stand by the idea.

‘My disappearance will astonish the men. I must inform them,

He then sent for his subalterns and said, ‘Tell the men that the first drill will take place on the day after to-morrow.’

‘Why not to-morrow?’

‘You are fatigued, and before drilling the men I must instruct the officers. Be careful, too, I beg you, to do as I do, and to say nothing.’

They saluted him d la militaire.

‘Very well, the drill will be at half-past four on the day after to-morrow.’

The subalterns left, and, as it was half after nine, went to bed. Pitou let them go, and when they had turned the corner, went in an opposite direction, and soon was hidden in the thickest of the park. Now let us see what Pitou was thinking of.

PITOU hurried on for half an hour into the very depth of the wood. There was in the undergrowth, beneath a hugo rock, a hut built some thirty-five or forty years before, which was inhabited by a person who, in his day, had excited no little mystery. This hut, half-buried in the ground and surrounded by foliage, received light only by an oblique opening. Not unlike a gipsy hut, it was often to be detected only by the smoke which rose from it. None but gamekeepers, smugglers, and sportsmen would ever have suspected its existence or that it was inhabited. For forty years, though, it had been the abode of a retired keeper whom the Duke of Orleans, father of Louis Philippe, had permitted to remain, with the privilege of killing a rabbit or a hare a day. Fowl and large game were excepted. At the time we speak of the old man was sixty-nine years old. Hia name was Clovis originally, to which, as ho grew old, the title Father was annexed. From his residence the rock took the name of Clovis’s Stone. He had been

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wounded at Fontenoy, and consequently had lost a leg, and been treated kindly as the duke appears to have done. He never went into great cities, and visited Villers-Cotterftta but once a year for the purpose of buying three hundred and sixty-five loads of powder and ball. On leap years he bought three hundred and sixty-six. On that day he took to the hatter, M. Cornu, three hundred and sixty-five or three hundred and sixty-six rabbit and hare skins, for which he received seventy-five Tours livres. He never missed a shot, and we are, therefore, able to be so exact. He lived on the flesh of the *n

One thing, however, excited the jealousy of the guards on duty. It was Raid, that Father Clovis had fired but three hundred and sixty-five times, but had killed the same number of hares. More than once, the nobles of Paris, invited by the Duke of Orleans, who had heard of Father Clovis, placed a louis or a crown in his broad hand, and sought to ascertain how any one could never miss. Old Clovis, however, told them nothing more than that with the game gun, he never missed a man at a hundred yards. If he could kill a man. it was far easier to kill a hare. If any smiled when Clovis spoke thus, he used to say, ‘Why do yon fire when yon are not sure of the mark ? ‘Could I have belonged to the men of Monsieur de Polisse, how could I ever miss?’

‘But why did Monsieur d’ Orleans, who is not at all mean, grant you permission to fire but once a day?’

‘Because he knew that on* shot would be enough.’

The curiosity of this spectacle, and the oddness of this theory, brought at least ten louis a day to the old anchorite. Now, as he gained much money by the sale of his hare-skins and he purchased only a pair of gaiters in every five years, and a coat every ten, he was not at all unhappy. Such was the singular person whom Pitou went to at midnight when the brilliant idea of which we have spoken entered his mind.

To fall in with Father Clovis, however, required much address. Clovis was lying down on his bed of straw, made of the aromatic plants which the woods produce in Septem-ber, and which would not require to be changed until the

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same month of the neat year. Pitou made four times as much noise as an ordinary person would have done, and old Clovis lifted up his head. He was not asleep, but was on that day in a terribly bad humour. An accident had happened which made him almost unapproachable. The accident was terrible. His gun, which he had used for five years with balls, and for thirty-five years with shot, had burst. For thirty-five years he had not missed a shot. The fate of the hare being safe and sound, was not the greatest misfortune which had befallen Clovis. Two fingers of his right hand had been carried away. Clovis had bound up his fingers with bruised herbs. How to procure another gun Father Clovis was under the necessity of appealing to his treasury, and even though he expended as much as two louis, who knew if the gun would not burst at the second shot?

Pitou came at an evil hour. At the very moment Pitou placed his hand on the door, old Clovis uttered a groan which amazed the commander of the National Guard of Haramont. Was it a wolf or some one substituted for Father Clovis ? Pitou hesitated whether he should go in or not.

‘Well, Father Clovis.’

‘What?’ said the misanthrope.

Pitou was reassured. He recognised the voice of the anchorite.

‘Ah 1 you are in,’ said he. ‘Good-morning, Clovis.’

‘Who goes there? said the proprietor.

‘ Ange Pitou of Haramont.’

‘Well, what is it to me who you are?’

‘Ah I’ said Pitou, ‘Clovis is now in a bad humour. I was sorry to awake him.’

‘Certainly you were.’

‘What, then, must I do?’

‘Go away as quickly as you possibly can.’

‘But let us talk; you can do me a favour.’

‘I want pay for all I do.’

‘Well ! I will pay for all I get.’

‘Possibly; but I am no longer of use to any one.’

‘How so?’

‘I shall kill no more game.’

‘How so? You never miss a shot. Clovis. It is impossible. ‘

‘Go away, I tell you,’

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‘Listen to me, and you will not be sorry.’

‘Well, then what do you wish ? be brief.’

‘You are an old soldier?’

‘Go on.’

‘Teach me the manual.’

‘Are you a fool?’

‘No teach me the manual, and I will pay you.’

‘The creature is mad,’ said Clovis ‘what, a soldier?’

‘Father Clovis, will you teach me the manual or not? Do so, and I will pay you what you please.’

The old man arose and said, ‘What I please. Well, give me a gun.’

‘Bah 1 I have thirty-four guns I’

‘Tiiirty-four?’

‘Yes. I have thirty-five. It is a sergeant’s musket the last, I mean with the king’s cipher on the breech.’

‘How came you by it? You did not steal it, I hope.’

Pitou told him the whole truth, frankly and honestly.

‘Well, I will teach you, but my fingers are hurt.’

He then told Pitou what accident had befallen him.

‘Well,’ said Pitou, ‘I will give you another gun. I cannot give you other fingers, for all I have I need myself.’

The moon shed a torrent of white light on the little opening in front of the hut. Any one who had seen these two dork forms gesticulating at midnight could not have repressed some mysterious terror. Clovis took up his burst gun with a sigh. He then placed himself in a military position.

‘Look at me,’ said he, ‘look at me. That is the way to learn. Do as I do, and I will correct you.’

Pitou made the attempt.

‘Draw back your knees. Square your shoulders. Give full play to your head. Give yourself a good foundation. Your feet are large enough.’

Pitou did as well as he could.

‘Very well I’ said the old man. ‘You look noble enough.’

If he looked thus after an hour’s drill, what would he not be in a month 1 He would be majestic. He wished to continue. Father Clovis, however, wished to get hold of the gun first, and said, ‘No, this is enough for once, Teach this at your first drill, and they will not learn it in four days. I must, however, tell you that there will b no moon.’

‘We will go through the manual ia your house, then.’

‘You will have to bang a light,’

434 TAKING THE BASTILLE

‘And whatever else you want.’

‘Then, bring my gun.’

‘You shall have it to-morrow.’

‘Very welL Now let me see if you recollect what I told you.’

Pitou behaved so well that Clovis complimented him. When they had finished, it lacked but an hour of daylight, and he took leave of his teacher, going, it must be owned, slowly towards Haramont, the whole population of which slept soundly. Pitou sank to sleep, and dreamed that he commanded an army of many millions of men, and waged war on the whole world, his army obeying in one rank the word of command. ‘Carry arms.’ On the next day he drilled his soldiers with an insolence which they esteemed proof positive of his capacity. Pitou became popular, and was admired by men, women, and children.

OLD Clovis had his gun; for what Pitou promised he did. In two visits, Pitou became a grenadier. But, unfortunately, when Clovis had taught him the manual, he had taught all he knew. Pitou bought a copy of the French Tactician, and of the Mamud of the National Guard, In which h* expended a crown. The Haramont battalion made, thanks to Pitou, very rapid progress. When he reached the more complicated manoeuvres, he went to Soissons, where, in one hour, from observing real soldiers drilled by real officers, he learned in one day more than his books would have taught him in a month. He thus toiled for two months.

Pitou was ambitious and in love. Pitou was unfortunate in his love. Often after his drill, which always followed midnight study, had Pitou crossed the plains of Largny, and now and then the whole forest, to meet Catherine, who always kept her appointment at Boursonne. Catherine used every day to steal away from her household duty to a little cot near the barn of Boursonne, next her beloved Isidore, who seemed always happy and joyous, wen though everything around seemed dark. How great was Pitou ‘ unhappiuess when he remembered how unequal a share of happiness was vouchsafed to different men.

CATHERINE BECOMES A DIPLOMATIST 433

Pitou loved Catherine the more devotedly because he saw that she was his superior. He also knew that she loved another, and though he ceased to be jealous of Isidore, who was noble, handsome, and worthy of love, Catherine, at least, sprung from the people, should not disgrace her family nor make him unhappy. When he thought, therefore, he suffered very deeply.

‘It was heartless,’ said he, ‘to suffer me to go. When I did so, she never asked if I was dead or alive. What would Billot say if he knew his friends were treated thus, and his business thus neglected? What would he say if he knew that the housekeeper, instead of attending to his business, was making love with the aristocratic Monsieur Charny ? He would say nothing, but kill Catherine. It is something, however, to have such a revenge in my grasp.’

It was better, though, not to make use of it. Pitou had observed that good actions, not understood, never benefit the actors. Would it not b well to let Catherine know what he was about? Nothing was easier; he had only to speak to her some day at mass, and let fall something to inform her that three persons knew her secret. Was it not worth while to make hex suffer a little, to quell her pride ?

The pavilion in which Catherine used to meet Charny was in a kind of grove which was an appendant to the forest of Villers-Cotterftts. A simple ditch divided the property of the count from thai of his neighbours. Catherine, who was every day called for one reason or another to visit the neighbours, found no difficulty in leaping over this ditch. The rendezvous was certainly well selected. The pavilion was so placed that through the loopholes, set with painted glass, she could overlook the whole grove, while it was itself so secluded that no one could see it, and three springs of a horse would put any one who sought to leave in the forest or in neutral ground. Pitou had watched Catherine so carefully, that he knew whither she went, and whence she came, as well as the poacher knows the track of the hare. Catherine did not return to the forest with Isidore, who used always to remain some time in the pavilion, in order to see thai she was not annoyed, and used then to go in a contrary direction.

Pitou hid himself on Catherine’s pathway, and ascendec an immense tree which completely overlooked the pavilioa

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Before an hour had passed he saw Catherine come by. She tied her horse in the wood, sprang over the ditch, and went to the pavilion. She dismounted just below the tree where Pitou was. He had only to descend and lean against the trunk. He then took from his pocket the Manual of the National Guard, and began to read.

An hour after, Pitou heard a door open. He heard the rustling of a silk dress, and saw Catherine look anxiously around, as if to see if she was watched. She stood within ten paces of Pitou. Pitou did not move, and kept his book on his knees. He no longer, however, pretended to read, and looked at Catherine so that she could not mis-understand him. She uttered a half-stifled cry, and then became pale as death. After another brief moment of indecision, she rushed into the forest and became invisible. Pitou had arranged matters well, and Catherine was caught in the snare. As soon as he thought of what he had done, he saw that it might have many consequences which previously had not suggested themselves to him.

The next day was appointed for a military parade. Being sufficiently instructed, in their own opinion, the National Guards had requested to be assembled in the presence of the public. A few neighbouring villages, excited by rivalry, and who had also paid attention to tactics, were to come to Haramont for a kind of contest. A deputation from these villages was present under the command of an old sergeant. The announcement of such a spectacle brought many persons together, and the parade ground of Haramont early in the day was occupied by crowds of young children, and at a later hour by the fathers and mothers of the champions. Among the spectators was a portion of the aristocracy and of the bourgeoisie of Vulers-Cotterfits come to be amused. There were also many farmers who had come to see. Soon Catherine and Madame Billot came.