Taking the Bastile (9 page)

Pitou had well performed his part; he had read energetically and well. The reader had taken his share of the plaudits which had been addressed to the work, and, submitting to the influence of this relative science, Billot himself felt growing within him a certain degree of consideration for the pupil of the Abbe Fortier. Pitou, already a giant in his physical proportions, had morally grown ten inches in the opinion of Billot. But there was one thing wanting to Pitou’s happiness; Mademoiselle Catherine had not been present at his triumph. But Father Billot, enchanted with the effect produced by the doctor’s pamphlet, hastened to communicate its success to his wife and daughter. Madame Billot made no reply; she was a short-sighted woman. Mademoiselle Catherine smiled sorrowfully.

‘Well I what is the matter with you now?’ said the farmer.

‘Father I my dear father 1’ cried Catherine, ‘I fear that you are running into danger.’

‘There, now; are you going to play the bird of ill omen? You are well aware that I like the lark better than the owl.’

‘Father, I have already been told to warn you that eyes are watching you.’

‘And who was it that told you this, if you please?’

‘A friend.’

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‘A friend ? All advice is deserving of thanks. Yon must tell me the name of this friend. Come, now, let us hear.’

‘ A man who ought to be well informed on such matters.’

‘But who is it?’

‘Monsieur Isidore de Charny.’

‘What business has that fop to meddle in such matters? Does he pretend to give me advice upon my way of thinking ? Do I give him advice upon his mode of dressing ? It appears to me that as much might be said on one subject as the other.’

‘My dear father, I do not tell you this to vex yon. The advice he gave me was well intended.’

‘Well, then, in return, I will give him my counsel, and which yon can on my behalf transmit to him.

‘And what is that?’

‘It is that he and his fellows take good care what they are about. They shake these noble gentlemen about very nicely in the National Assembly; and more than once a great deal has been said of court favourites, male and female. Let him forewarn his brother, Monsieur Olivier Charny, to look to himself, for it is said he i* not on bad terms with the Austrian woman.’

‘Father,’ said Catherine, ‘you have more experience than we have; act according to your pleasure.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ murmured Pitou, whose success had given him great confidence, ‘what business has your Monsieur Isidore to make and meddle?’

Catherine either did not hear him. or pretended not to hear him, and there the conversation dropped. The dinner was got through as usual. Never did dinner appear so long to Pitou. He was feverishly anxious to show himself abroad with Mademoiselle Catherine leaning on his arm. This Sunday was a monstrously great day to him, and he promised himself that the date, the I2th of July, should ever remain engraved upon his memory. They left the farm at last at about three o’clock. Catherine was positively charming. She was a pretty, fair-haired girl with black eyes, slight and flexible as the willows that shaded the small spring from which the farm was supplied with water. She was, moreover, dressed with that natural coquetry which enhances the advantages of every woman, ana her pretty little fantastic cap, made with her own bands, as she had told Pitou, became her admirably. The ball did not in general commence till six o clock.

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Four village minstrels, mounted upon a small stage formed of planks, did the honours of this ball-room in the open air. While waiting for the opening of the dance, the company walked in the celebrated Hall of Sighs, of which Aunt Angelique had spoken, to see the young gentlemen of the town and the neighbourhood play at tennis, under the direction of Master Farollet, tennis-master-in-chief to His Highness the Duke of Orleans. Pitou, without knowing why, would have very much desired to remain in the Hall of Sighs, but it was not for the purpose of remaining concealed beneath the shade of this double row of beech-trees that Catherine had attired herself in the becoming dress which had so much astonished Pitou. She dragged away at Pitou’s arm, and so successfully, that they took the path to the tennis court. We must, however, hasten to acknowledge that Pitou did not go very unwillingly. H also was as anxious to display his sky-blue suit and his cocked hat, as Catherine was to show her Galatea cap and her shining short silk bodice.

One thing above all nattered our hero, and gave him a momentary advantage over Catherine, As no one recognised him, Pitou never having been seen in such sumptuous habiliments, they took him for some young stranger arrived in the town, some nephew or cousin of the Billot family; some even asserted that he was Catherine’s intended. But Pitou felt too great an interest in proving his own identity, to allow the error to be of long continuance. He gave so many nods to bis friends, he so frequently took on his hat to his acquaintance, that at last the unworthy pupil of the Abbe Fortier was recognised in the spruce young countryman. A sort of buzzing murmur quickly ran through the throng, and many of his former companions exclaimed, ‘Why, really, it is Pitou [‘ ‘Only look at Pitou 1’ ‘Did you see Ange Pitou ?’

This clamour at length reached the ears of Mademoiselle Angelique; but as this clamour informed her that the good-looking youth pointed out by it was her nephew, walking with his toes turned out and his elbows gracefully curved, the old maid, who had always seen Pitou walk with his toes turned in and his elbows stuck to his ribs, shook her head incredulously, and merely said ; ‘You are mistaken; that is not my pitiful nephew.’

The two young people reached the tennis court. On that day there happened to bo a match between the

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players of Soissons and those of Villers-CotterWs, so that the game was very animated. Catherine and Pitou placed themselves close to the rope stretched to prevent the crowd from interfering with the players; it was Catherine who had selected this place as being the best.

In about a minute the voice of Master Farollet was heard, calling out : ‘Two in go over.’

The players effectually changed places; that is to say, that they each went to defend their quarters and attack those of their adversaries. One of the players, on passing by, bowed to Catherine with a smile; Catherine replied by a curtsey, and blushed. At the same moment Pitou felt a nervous trembling shoot through Catherine’s arm, which was leaning on his. An unknown anguish shot through Pitou’s heart.

‘That is Monsieur de Charny,’ said he, looking at his companion.

‘Yes,’ said Catherine. ‘Ah I you know him, then?’

‘I do not know him replied Pitou, ‘but I guessed that it was he.’

The person who had bowed to the young girl was an elegant gentleman, who might be twenty-three or twenty-four years of age; he was handsome, of good stature, well formed, and graceful in his movements, as are all those who have had an aristocratic education from their very cradle. All those manly exercises in which perfection can only be attained, but on the condition of their being studied from childhood, M. Isidore de Charny executed with remarkable perfection; besides which, he was one of those whose costume always harmonised with the pursuit he was engaged in. His hunting-dresses were quoted for their perfect taste; his attire in the fencing-room might have served as a pattern to Saint Georges himself; and his riding-coats were, or rather appeared to be, thanks to his manner of wearing them, of a particularly elegant shape.

On the day we are speaking of, M. de Charny was attired in tight-fitting pantaloons of a light colour, which set off to great advantage the shape of his finely-formed and muscular limbs; his hair was negligently dressed as for the morning; elegant tennis sandals for the moment were substituted for the red-heeled shoe or the top-boots; his waistcoat was of white marsella, fitting as closely to his waist as if he bad worn stays; and to Bum up all, his

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servant was waiting upon the slope with a green coat embroidered with gold lace, for his master to put on when the match was ended. The animation of the game communicated to his features all the charm and freshness of youth, notwithstanding his twenty-three years, the nightly excesses he had committed, and the gambling parties he had attended, which frequently the nsing sun had illumined with its rays; all this had made sad havoc in his constitution. None of these personal advantages, which doubtless the young girl had remarked, had escaped the jealous eyes of Pitou. On observing the small hands and feet of M. de Charny, he began to feel less proud of that prodigality of nature which had given him the victory over the shoemaker’s son, and he reflected that nature might have distributed in a more skilful manner over every part of his frame the elements of which it was composed. Pitou looked at his legs with the same expression as the stag did of whom we have read in the fable.

‘What is the matter with you, Monsieur Pitou?’ said Catherine, who had observed his discontented looks. Pitou did not reply : he could not have explained his feelings; he therefore only sighed.

The game had terminated. The Viscount de Charny took advantage of the interval between the game just finished and the one about to commence, to come over to speak to Catherine. As h approached them nearer and nearer, Pitou observed the colour heightening in the young girl’s cheeks, and felt her arm tremble more and more. The viscount gave a nod to Pitou, and then, with that familiar politeness which the nobility of that period knew how to adopt with the citizens’ daughters and grisettes, he inquired of Catherine as to the state of her health, and asked her to be hia partner in the first dance. Catherine accepted. A smile conveyed the thanks of the young nobleman. The game was about to begin, and he was called for. He bowed to Catherine, and then left her with the same elegant ease with which he had approached her. Pitou felt all the superiority which the man possessed over him, who could speak, smile, approach and take leave in such a manner. A month’s study, employed hi endeav curing to imitate the simple, though elegant, movements of M. de Charny, would only have produced a ridiculous parody, and this Pitou himself acknowledged. If Pitou had been capable of entertaining a feeling of hatred, h=

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would from that moment have detested the Vlaccmnt do Charny.

Catherine remained looking at the tennis players until the moment when they called their servants to bring their coats to them. She then directed her steps towards the place set apart for dancing, to Pitou’s great despair, who on that day appeared to be destined to go everywhere but where he wished. M. de Charny did not allow Catherine to wait long for him. A slight change in his dress had converted him from a tennis player into an elegant dancer. The violins gave the signal, and he at once presented his hand to Catherine, reminding her of the promise she had made to dance with him. That which Pitou experienced when he felt Catherine withdrawing her arm from within his, and saw the young girl blushing deeply aa she advanced with her cavalier into the circle, was one of the most disagreeable sensations of his whole life. A cold perspiration stood upon his brow; a cloud passed over his eyes; he stretched out his hand and caught hold of the balustrade for support, for he felt that his knees, strongly constituted as they were, were giving way. As to Catherine, she did not appear to have, and very probably even had not, any idea of what was passing in poor Pitou’s heart. She was at once happy and proud; happy at being about to dance, and proud of dancing with the handsomest cavalier of the whole neighbourhood.

If Pitou had been constrained to admire M. de Charny as a tennis player, he was compelled to do him justice as a dancei. In those days the fashion had not yet sprung up of walking instead of dancing. For the second time Pitou looked at his own legs, and was obliged to acknowledge that unless some great metamorphosis should take place in that portion of his individuality, he must altogether renounce any attempt to succeed in vying with M. de Charny in the particular art which he was displaying at that moment. The country dance having ended for Catherine it had scarcely lasted a few seconds, but to Pitou it had appeared a century she returned to resume the arm of her cavalier, and could not avoid observing the change which had taken place in his countenance. He was pale, and a tear, half dned up by jealousy, was standing in his humid eye.

‘Ah I good Heaven 1’ she exclaimed, ‘what is the matter with you, Pitou?’

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‘The matter is,’ replied the poor youth, ‘that I shall never dare to dance with you, alter having seen you dance with Monsieur de Charny.’

‘Pshaw I’ said Catherine, ‘you must not allow yourself to be cast down in this way; you will dance as well as you are able, and I shall not feel the less pleasure in dancing with you.’

‘Ah !’ cried Pitou, ‘you say that, mademoiselle, to console me; but I know myself, and I feel assured that you will always feel more pleasure in dancing with this young nobleman than with me.’

Catherine made no reply, for she would not utter a falsehood, only, as ahe was an excellent creature, and had begun to perceive that something extraordinary was passing in the heart of the poor youth, she treated him very kindly; but this kindness could not restore to him his lost joy and peace of mind. Father Billot had spoken truly : Pitou was beginning to b* a man he was suffering. Catherine danced five or six country dances after this, one of which was with M. de Charny. This time, without suffering less in reality than before, Pitou was, in appearance, much more calm. He followed each movement which Catherine and her cavalier made, with eager eyes. He endeavoured from the motion of their lips to divine what they were saying to each other, and when, during the figures of the dance, their hands were joined, he tried to discern whether their hands merely touched or pressed each other when thus they came in contact. Doubtless, it was the second dance with De Charny that Catherine had been awaiting, for it was scarcely ended when the young girl proposed to Pitou to return to the farm. Never was proposal acceded to with more alacrity; but the blow was struck, and Pitou, while taking long strides which Catherine from time to time was obliged to restrain, remained perfectly silent.