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 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
"That being so, Madame la Marquise," continued de Puisaye with
flattering earnestness, "I can only say that what you have
accomplished is nothing short of miraculous."
"Oh!" rejoined Madame unblushingly, "my son Ronnay left a large
sum of money behind for my use."
It was only Laurent, whose eyes never wandered away for long from
the contemplation of Fernande, who noticed the quick, hot flush
which at Madame's words had suffused the young girl's cheeks.
"I know, I know," interposed de Puisaye; "and, indeed, His Majesty
owes you a deep debt of gratitude, Madame, for the privations which
you endured so nobly, in order to place the bulk of that money at
our disposal."
"I had to use some," rejoined the Marquise, "for bribing Leroux, and
also our go-betweens. Unfortunately, those men to whom I had free
access—the workmen in the foundries and armament works who live
in the villages round—were not at all tractable. They are disloyal
almost to a man. For them Bonaparte is a god and Ronnay de
Maurel his prophet; we had to fall back on the convicts in the
powder factory."
"With that man Paul Leroux as the chief asset," added M. de
Courson.
"Beggars must not be choosers," commented de Puisaye with a sigh.
"Two hundred jail-birds in the King's cause," he added naïvely, "are
better than five hundred on the other side."
"Well, and what about Leroux and his gang, then?" queried d'Aché.
"On the occasion of our only visit to the foundries," replied Madame,
"my brother, Laurent and I had agreed that one of us must have
conversation with the man Leroux, with the help and connivance of
the other two. Rumour had already told us that Leroux was the chief
malcontent, who had given even the military representatives plenty
of anxiety. We knew that we must get hold of him before we could
approach any of the others. Fortunately luck was on our side.
Something—I forget what—engaged the attention of one of the
military representatives who were escorting us round the powder
factory, my brother was able to engage the others in conversation,
whilst Laurent drew the overseer Mathurin's attention to himself.
This gave me just two minutes' talk with Leroux."
"Not very much," put in Prigent dryly. The others were listening in
eager silence to Madame's narrative.
"Enough for my purpose," she continued. "Leroux was in a surly
mood, smarting under some punishment which I've no doubt he
deserved. A curse and a snarl from him directed at the overseer
gave me my opening. In two minutes I managed to promise him
freedom from his present position and money wherewith to create
for himself a new one. He sucked in my suggestion greedily, and I
asked him how we could communicate with one another in future.
'The boundary wall,' he muttered, 'where it was repaired recently—
the stones are new-looking. I will throw a message over at that point
when I can—during exercise hours—eight o'clock and two o'clock—
you can be on the watch.' There was no time to say more. But I was
satisfied. We had made a beginning. For over a week one of us was
on the watch twice every day outside the boundary wall at the spot
which Leroux had indicated. It was easily recognizable because of
the new-looking stones. The spot is a lonely one. There is a footpath
which follows the boundary wall at this point; the other side of the
footpath is bordered by a bit of coppice wood. Either my brother, or
Laurent, or I remained in observation, hidden in the coppice, while
we heard the tramp of the men exercising inside the boundary wall.
After a week, a piece of dirty paper, weighted by a stone, was flung
over the wall. It had been my turn to watch. I picked up the paper
and managed to decipher the scrawl upon it. Leroux explained that
on this self-same spot in the wall—but on the inner side—he had
succeeded in loosening a stone, immediately below the coping; he
suggested that messages to him should be slipped behind the stone
exactly five minutes before exercising time, and the stone replaced.
The yard, he said, was always deserted then. Needless to say that
we acted upon his suggestion, and the very next morning Laurent
succeeded in clambering over the wall—though it is a high one—at
exactly five minutes before eight o'clock, and managed to slip a
message for Leroux into the hiding-place behind the stone."
"It all sounds like a fairy tale!" broke in d'Aché enthusiastically.
"Of course," here interposed M. de Courson, taking up the
interrupted narrative, "after that, matters became comparatively
simple. Leroux was more than ready to do all that we asked of him,
and he kept us posted up with everything that went on inside the
factory. Thus we enjoined him, for the sake of his own future and for
the success of our undertaking, to drop his rebellious attitude—to
become industrious, willing, a pattern amongst the workmen. We
told him to gain the confidence of the War Office representatives by
every means in his power and so to ingratiate himself with them that
he might obtain the post of chief overseer of the powder factory,
which would confer upon him privileges that he then could utilize for
our service."
"Well, and did he succeed?"
"Indeed, he did," assented Madame la Marquise. "We have offered
him a bribe of ten thousand francs if he served us in the way we
required: the first step towards this service was to be his good
conduct—the second his appointment as overseer."
"And what happened?"
"Paul Leroux is now overseer of the powder factory at La Frontenay.
He was appointed by old Gaston de Maurel, who has been
completely taken in by the man's change of front. Leroux is quoted
throughout the district as a marvellous example of how a man can
rise from his dead self, through patriotism and discipline, to a new
life of industry and consideration. The epic of Leroux," added
Madame with a laugh, "forms the comedy side of the palpitating
drama which we have been enacting at La Frontenay these past
twelve months."
"Splendid! Marvellous!" acclaimed the men in chorus, and d'Aché,
less well informed than the others of what had been going on,
added eagerly: "So much for the present; now what about the
future?"

III
"The future," resumed M. de Courson quietly after a while, "is, in
fact, rosier than any of us had ever dared to hope."
"Leroux will prove useful, you think?" queried Prigent.
"Leroux, my dear friends," broke in Madame triumphantly, "is
prepared to hand over the entire factory to us, lock, stock and
barrel. He has both the power and the means to do it. With the
factory in our hands, the foundries and armament works will fall to
us automatically."
"But how?" exclaimed d'Aché impassionedly, "in Heaven's name
how? Believe me, the whole thing still seems to me like a fairy-tale."
"I am sure it does," she retorted gaily, "and yet it is all real ... so real
... Laurent!" she continued suddenly, turning to the young man, "I
pray you go and see if Leroux hath come."
Laurent obeyed readily and de Puisaye said approvingly:
"Ah! you have the man here; that is good!"
"He can come and go at will now, out of his working hours," said M.
de Courson, "and for the past two weeks has been up to the château
every day to make report to us, as to what is going on inside the
factories. Comparative freedom is one of the privileges which have
been granted him now that he is chief overseer."
"You have, indeed, accomplished miracles, Madame," said de
Puisaye, gallantly kissing Madame la Marquise de Mortain's well-
shaped hand.
"Wait till you have spoken with Leroux," retorted Madame with a
triumphant smile.
For the next moment or two no one spoke; obviously the nerves of
every one in the room were strained to breaking point. Madame la
Marquise leaned back in her chair. She was flushed with satisfaction
and triumph; she kept her glowing eyes fixed upon Fernande as if
she desired to challenge the young girl now to persist in her
obstinacy of a while ago. "How can you think of abandoning this
scene of coming triumphs?" she seemed to say. But Fernande kept
her eyes resolutely averted from her aunt as well as from the three
men, who seemed willing enough to while away these few minutes'
suspense by casting admiring looks on the beautiful and silent girl by
the window.
"Mademoiselle de Courson," said d'Aché, who had always been
known for his gallantry, "has not honoured us by an expression of
opinion on any point as yet."
"My father would tell you, sir, and justly, too, no doubt," said
Fernande coldly, "that I am over-young to have an opinion on any
point, and men have oft averred that danger looms largely on ahead
whenever women meddle with politics."
"Then will Madame's diplomacy prove them wrong this time," cried
de Puisaye gaily. "And I'll warrant that you, Mademoiselle, have
borne no small share in the noble work that has been going on at La
Frontenay for the behalf of His Majesty the King."
"There you do me too much honour, sir," rejoined Fernande. "I have
been a passive witness here, seeing that I was—unwillingly enough,
God knows!—a guest beneath M. de Maurel's roof."
Then, as Madame la Marquise uttered an exclamation of reproof and
M. de Puisaye one of astonishment, M. de Courson broke in quietly:
"My daughter," he said, not without a stern look directed on
Fernande, "hath meseems proved the truth of her assertion to your
satisfaction, my friends. She is obviously too young to understand
the grave issues which are at stake and wherein overstrung
sensibilities must not be allowed to play a part."
Madame was frowning, and Fernande turned her little head once
again obstinately away. And the three guests, scenting a family jar,
promptly fell to talking of something else.
 CHAPTER XIV
THE TOOL

I
A moment or two later Laurent returned closely followed by Leroux.
Fernande instinctively turned to look at the man whom she had last
seen in the factory, covered with grime and smoke and sweat,
threatening by foul words and furtive gestures the master who had
controlled and punished him.
Of a truth, she scarcely recognized him. Paul Leroux, actuated both
by greed and by the desire to free himself from present constituted
authority, had played his part over well. From the surly, ill-
conditioned jail-bird of twelve months ago, he had succeeded in
eliminating every unpleasant aspect, save that of the eyes, which
had remained shifty and glowering as before. But he wore the cloth
coat and corduroy breeches of a well-to-do artisan now; his hair was
combed and oiled and held back in the nape of the neck with a tidy
piece of ribbon. He wore neckcloth, stockings and shoes with
buckles. His hands were almost clean.
De Puisaye and the others surveyed this new recruit to the Royalist
cause with genuine satisfaction. Except for that shifty look in the
eyes, which perhaps these men, unaccustomed to psychological
analysis, failed to note, Paul Leroux looked a well-conditioned,
reliable, well-fashioned tool, ready for any guiding hand.
"Well now, Leroux," began Joseph de Puisaye, with a sort of
condescending gruffness which he thought suitable for the occasion,
"Madame la Marquise de Mortain has been telling me that you have
resolved to become once more a loyal and independent subject of
His Majesty King Louis the Eighteenth by the grace of God, and that
you are ready to throw off your allegiance to the adventurer who
has dared to set himself upon the throne of France. That is so—is it
not?"
"If by all that talk," retorted the man surlily, "you mean that I and
my mates are heartily sick of de Maurel and of the tyranny of his
minions, and that we don't mind throwing in our lot with you for a
consideration ... then you are right. I am your man."
De Puisaye threw his head back and laughed, and even solemn
Prigent could not suppress a smile.
"Well said, my good Leroux," riposted de Puisaye unconcernedly.
"You put things bluntly, but that certainly is the proposition. Let me
put it quite as bluntly to you. We have eight hundred men between
this and Avranches, ready to march on La Frontenay on a given
night. We want to obtain possession of the factories, the foundries
and the armament works. Can you help us to them?"
"I can and I will," replied the man gruffly, "if you'll give me ten
thousand francs for my pains, and a hundred francs apiece for my
mates."
"We have already agreed to that," rejoined de Puisaye, "and I pledge
you my word of honour that you shall have the money on the day
when I myself walk into the foundries of La Frontenay as their
master. Now how do you propose to do what we want?"
For one instant Leroux' shifty eyes had flared up beneath their
flaccid lids, as the Comte Joseph de Puisaye pledged himself to pay
that ten thousand francs for which Leroux would readily have sold
his soul to the devil.
"Will you explain to these seigneurs, Leroux," commanded M. de
Courson, "the plan which we have agreed on? They would prefer to
hear it from your own lips, so that we can all be assured that you
thoroughly understand all that you will have to do."
"Am I not to sit down?" queried Leroux roughly.
The gentlemen looked at one another in some consternation. Here
was a problem which, simple as it seemed, nevertheless embodied a
good many of the puzzles which would inevitably confront the old
régime when it did succeed in re-establishing itself above the ruins
and the ashes of Equality and of Fraternity. For a man in Leroux'
position to dare think of sitting down in the presence of his
seigneurs was, indeed, an unheard-of possibility in the days before
the proletariat had ventured to assert its rights to live like human
beings rather than like beasts of burden. Now, of course, things
were very different; the theory of social levelling—which had found
expression in the title of "citizen" applied equally to the whilom
aristocrat and to the vagrant in the street—made even de Puisaye
marvel if he dared impose upon a man like Leroux those conventions
which in the past would have been as natural to him as the
indrawing and exhaling of his breath, but which now might arouse
his resentment and turn him, headstrong and wrathful, against the
project wherein his co-operation was of such vital importance.
Compromise that did not grate upon the susceptibilities on either
side was obviously the only wise course to adopt under the
circumstances, and de Puisaye, keeping an air of haughty
condescension that satisfied himself, said in a pleasant tone intended
to conciliate Leroux: "If the ladies have no objection, my man, you
certainly may sit."
Madame la Marquise nodded approval, and Leroux, muttering
something which fortunately remained inaudible, sat down.

II
"Well, now," resumed de Puisaye after a while, "will you tell these
ladies and gentlemen here as clearly as you can what plan you can
adopt in order to deliver the Maurel factories into our hands? Then
we shall be able to see how best we can co-operate with you in the
matter."
"I can manage things all right for you," said Leroux roughly. "I am
chief overseer of the powder factory now—what?—so I have my
quarters inside the precincts. I live in the Lodge—you know it—it
stands in the centre of the group of work-sheds over against the
powder magazine. What I can do is this: I can keep half a hundred
of my mates—those that I know I can rely on—to work overtime one
evening. They can easily slacken work during the day, and I should
then have the right to keep them back for two or three hours in the
sheds."
"They will form the main garrison inside the precincts," explained M.
de Courson. "On their quick and efficient work will depend our
success."
"Yes, I quite understand that," assented de Puisaye. "Now, how is
that garrison going to work for us? I presume that there are night-
watchmen about in the various sheds and throughout the works."
"There are," replied Leroux briefly, "two in every shed, and Mathurin,
the chief overseer of the foundries, sleeps in one of the main
buildings, too. At night—if it is necessary—the alarm is given by
ringing the bell in one of the clock towers. There are two of these
towers in the precincts of the works, one in the main building of the
foundries, the other above the Lodge in the powder factory, where I
sleep."
"Therefore," commented Prigent dryly, "the first thing that you and
your garrison will have to do, my man, will be to hold the two clock
towers, and then to surprise and overpower the various night-
watchmen as simultaneously as possible ... as silently as may be."
"Exactly," rejoined Leroux curtly.
"Well," added de Puisaye eagerly, "having disposed of the night-
watchmen, what would you do next?"
"Some of us will stay behind on guard in the different sheds, and a
score or so will march on the compound, where the rest of our
mates are penned up as if they were savage beasts that must be
kept in cages."
"Aha! That means another hundred and fifty of you?"
"Yes, another hundred and fifty. There are sentries at the gates of
the compound, but we can easily overpower those. The watch will
not be quite so strict now that the General has come home."
"Ah!" ejaculated de Puisaye, "matters slacken up at the works when
the master is home—what?"
"Not exactly," replied Leroux. "But those military overseers have
been absolute brutes. Things cannot be quite so bad now they have
gone."
"M. de Maurel is more easy-going, or more indifferent—which?"
Leroux shrugged his shoulders, then said gruffly:
"The General has altered a good deal since he has been away."
"At any rate," here interposed Madame la Marquise impatiently,
"Laurent and I can vouch for the fact that the watch round the
compounds is not over strict just now. We went past there last night.
There were only a couple of sentries at the gates."
"Even so you will have to be careful, my good Leroux," added M. de
Courson, "so as not to raise the alarm."
"No, we won't do that," rejoined Leroux. "We can deal with the
sentry easily enough."
"And do you think that a couple of hundred men can march from the
compound back to the works without being seen or heard."
"Oh, yes! if they are determined not to make a noise. It is not far to
the factories. Less than a kilomètre. The roads are soft under foot.
We'll be careful not to be seen or heard, you may be sure of that."
"And once you are all back at the works?" queried M. d'Aché.
"We'll just wait there, ready to let you in when you come," replied
the man simply.
"What about arms?"
"There are thousands in the stores and in the cellars below the
buildings! Enough to equip an army!"
"Splendid! splendid!" exclaimed de Puisaye with enthusiasm. "This
man is a jewel! what say you, gentlemen?—and well deserves the
money which I have pledged mine honour to place into his hands.
Ten thousand francs for the brain that devised the scheme, a
hundred francs apiece for those who carry it through. That's it, is it
not, my brave Leroux?"
"Yes, that's it," replied the ex-convict with a leer.
"Very well," concluded de Puisaye, "then we'll call that settled. All
that we need do now is to decide on the night when we do our
coup."
"The sooner the better," said Leroux; "it is dangerous to leave a
thing like that hanging about. It may be blown upon at any time. I
have had to warn some of my mates that there was something in
the wind. Any one of them may be a blackleg, for aught I know."
"The man is right," said M. de Courson decisively; "delays are always
dangerous. Moreover, there is no cause for procrastination. The next
four-and-twenty hours ought to see us fully prepared."
"I shall have just to think things over," interposed de Puisaye who,
throughout his adventurous career, never failed for want of caution,
but rather from too much indecision. "In a couple of days I could
name the day—or rather the night—when I shall be quite ready—but
not before."
"Surely, my dear M. de Puisaye ..." hazarded Madame la Marquise.
"Madame, I entreat you," he rejoined, "to trust to me in this. I have
to make my dispositions as carefully as may be. May I suggest that
we dismiss this man for the moment, with orders to report here for
duty the day after to-morrow?"
"I don't see why we should wait all that time," muttered Leroux.
"There are many things, no doubt, my man," said M. de Courson
haughtily, "many things in the councils of your betters that escape
your comprehension. As far as arguing goes, we none of us think of
quarrelling with the decisions of our chief. We all work for the same
cause, and you must learn obedience, the same as we have done,
or," he added significantly, "you will have to forfeit the ten thousand
francs and your own liberty, which are to be your reward if you serve
us as we desire. Now is that clearly understood?"
"But what do you want me to do, enfin?" growled Leroux, on whom
the magic mention of money at once acted as a sedative to his surly
temper.
"We want you to go on quietly," said M. de Courson, "just as you
have done hitherto—trying to win M. de Maurel's confidence just as
you succeeded in winning that of the military overseers. It is only a
matter of a couple of days at most. Do not let more of your mates
into the secret for the present, above all, remember to report for
duty here the day after to-morrow at three o'clock in the afternoon.
Now you can go."
Leroux would have liked to stay and argue for a while longer.
Though he had fully made up his mind to do exactly as he was told,
both for the sake of the reward and for the sake of getting even with
life, as he would put it, by striking a big blow at constituted
authority, he was far too conscious of his own importance, far too
puffed up with pride, to take such peremptory orders without a
protest. But neither de Puisaye nor any of the others were in a mood
to waste time by useless arguings.
While Leroux was busy drawing upon his stock of impudence with a
view to letting these "aristos" know that he had them in his power,
and would stand no domineering ways from them, they had already
coolly turned their backs on him and were deep in whispered
consultation together. This haughty ignoring of his personality had
the effect of damping the ex-convict's arrogance. He rose and gazed
somewhat sheepishly on the array of backs turned so resolutely
upon him. He twiddled his hat between his fingers, fidgeted first on
one leg, then on the other. At last he was driven to acquiescence
and said roughly:
"I'll be here at three o'clock the day after to-morrow. And if you are
wise, all of you," he added significantly, "you'll arrange for matters to
come to a head that same night or there'll be trouble. Foi de Paul
Leroux!"
Then he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
But just as he was about to bang the door behind him, he happened
to turn back again, and he encountered Mademoiselle de Courson's
blue eyes fixed upon him with such an expression of loathing, that
much against his will, and quite understandably, a hot flush of anger
—or was it of shame?—rose right up to his forehead and to the roots
of his hair.
 CHAPTER XV
A NOTE OF WARNING

I
"Now do you see how impossible it is that we can fail?" exclaimed
Madame la Marquise triumphantly, as soon as the man had gone.
"I do not see how we can," assented de Puisaye.
The others all concurred. Leroux, despite his ill-favoured
appearance, despite his criminal antecedents which none of them
here could ignore, had made a favourable impression on them all.
"The man means to go straight, I think," said Prigent.
"He hates his present condition," commented M. de Courson dryly,
"and would sell his soul, if he had one, to be freed from it.
Bonaparte will find that it is a dangerous experiment," he added
naïvely, "to try and use men like Leroux and his mates to help him
prosecute his infamous wars."
"I suppose," continued M. d'Aché, "that the mates on whom this
man reckons are ex-convicts like himself?"
"Oh, yes!" replied Madame la Marquise quite unabashed. "Most of
the men who are detailed to the powder factories in France now
were serving life sentences for murder, rape, or arson before."
"I suppose that we can trust them," said Prigent, with a doleful sigh.
"We must," replied Madame decisively. "We must get hold of the
factories, and there is no other way."
"One way is as good as another," concluded de Puisaye cheerfully.
"When we have done with those brigands we must rid ourselves of
them as quickly as we can. They will bring themselves soon enough
once more under the ban of the law."
"In the meanwhile, my dear de Puisaye," said M. de Courson
earnestly, "will you tell us exactly what our respective parts are to be
in the great coup which those jail-birds will prepare for us? Laurent
and I have four hundred men in hiding between Courson and
Mortain; we have armed them as best as we could with a few
weapons which we received from the English agency in Jersey—not
nearly enough, and most of the men have only got sticks ... but, of
course," he added hopefully, "there are magnificent stores at La
Frontenay when once we hold the works."
"There really will be no need for arms," rejoined de Puisaye. "On the
night that we decide for our coup we will assemble at our usual
place, the Cerf-Volant woods to the south of Mortain. I propose that
I take four hundred men, and with them march quietly up to the
factories. Leroux will be waiting for me, and we will order him
beforehand to have all the arms that are necessary for the men
ready out of the stores. We will then have six hundred men inside
the factories, all thoroughly armed and equipped with splendid guns
placed in position. We will be able to hold out against any attack
made upon the works by de Maurel's work-people, even if they are
aided by the local peasantry. In the meanwhile, you, my dear de
Courson, will march with two hundred men on Mortain, and Laurent
with another two hundred on Domfront, and if you both are as
clever and resourceful as I take you to be, you will each of you
surprise the small garrison in those respective towns, seize the
town-halls, collar the sous-préfets, and hold the forts until François
Prigent, on the one hand, and our good d'Aché, on the other, arrive
to reinforce you, which should be at about midday."
"Splendid!" ejaculated Laurent. "Monsieur Prigent and M. le Comte
d'Aché will, of course, have marched all the way from Avranches?"
"Yes. We have another eight hundred men there; they are strong
and eager, but, of course, there, as well as here, our trouble is the
want of arms. With the armament stores of La Frontenay in our
hands we shall be absolutely invincible. I propose, therefore, that
Prigent and d'Aché march first on La Frontenay, equip themselves
with arms and guns, and then divide into three companies, one to
remain with us, one to march back on Mortain to reinforce M. de
Courson, and the other to push on to Domfront. This manœuvre will
cause a little delay, but its advantages are, I think, so obvious that it
needs no discussing. With Domfront and Tinchebrai in our hands, we
can think of La Ferté-Macé. Our brilliant success—for it will be a very
brilliant success—will rally a great many waverers around us, and, of
course, holding the foundries and factories of La Frontenay will make
us literally the masters of Normandy. Avranches will fall to us within
a few days, and after that it will be Caen and Brest; then foreign
support to any extent! Oh, my friends! my dear friends!" he added,
his voice hoarse and choked with excitement, "what a day! what
prospects! what a future! Madame la Marquise, by coming back to
settle in these parts, by effecting a reconciliation with your eldest
son and installing yourself in this château, you have reconquered
France for our King!"
Madame's eyes were moist with pride and emotion. Laurent could no
longer sit still; he was pacing up and down the narrow room, and for
the moment he almost forgot to look at Fernande, who had
remained sitting quite still beside the window, gazing—still gazing—
out into the distance to the slope of the hill, where lay the woods of
La Frontenay and the silent pool.

II
"I think that your plan is quite admirable, my dear de Puisaye," said
M. de Courson after a while, "and I, for one, can only give it my very
hearty approval. In fact, you have thought everything out so well,
that all my nephew and I can do is to obey implicitly. Now when do
you think that you can be ready with your men?"
"When can you be ready with yours?" retorted de Puisaye.
"Oh, we are ready now. Laurent and I can assemble our company
together any day you may decide. We can easily pass the word
round and muster up at the Cerf-Volant woods outside Mortain on
any night you think most suitable. It would not be safe to muster at
Courson, and though Mortain is a good deal farther, it is much more
lonely and, as you say, it would be best for us all to start out at one
and the same time—shall we say, at eleven o'clock in the evening.
You would then reach La Frontenay and Laurent get to Domfront
almost simultaneously, bar accidents. Laurent and I can surprise the
garrisons at dead of night before either of them can get wind of the
affair, and thus obviate the possibility of their falling on you ere you
on your side can reach La Frontenay."
"That being so," rejoined de Puisaye, "why not decide on the day
after to-morrow? I shall have my four hundred men assembled at
Mortain too, by that time, and we have given the man Leroux orders
to present himself here on that day. We will—with her permission—
entrust Madame la Marquise with the happy task of telling Leroux
that he must arrange his coup for the same night, and be prepared
for my arrival with my small contingent. Whilst he waits for me he
must open up the stores and get out all the small arms that he can;
then directly I arrive I can get what guns there are into position, and
prepare for a regular siege if it is necessary. I cannot help wishing
that the next morning may see us attacked in full force by de
Maurel's work-people, for then, when Prigent and d'Aché come upon
the scene, they would get the attacking party in the rear, and though
insufficiently armed, they would, nevertheless, effect heavy
slaughter, and gain an immediate and brilliant victory."
"How are we going to live until the day after to-morrow?" sighed
Laurent.
"How, indeed?" was echoed by all the others in the room.
The very atmosphere seemed redolent of triumph, of exultation, of
confidence in victory. The co-operation of the ex-convict and of two
hundred of his kind had brought forth a situation which had endless
possibilities in it. The general consensus of opinion was that failure
was absolutely out of the question. Never, since the English agencies
had withdrawn their active support, had the prospects of a
successful Royalist rising been so rosy. De Puisaye was glowing with
enthusiasm, Prigent had laid aside his solemnity, d'Aché ceased to
ogle Fernande; even M. de Courson's pale cheeks were flushed. As
for Madame—she was already present in thoughts at the first
reception which Queen Marie-Joséphine-Louise would be holding at
the Tuileries. As for Fernande, everyone was fortunately too much
excited, too much engrossed in schemes and plans to pay much
attention to her, or her silence and extraordinary aloofness from the
all-absorbing topic of conversation could not have passed
unperceived.
It was late in the afternoon before everything was said that had to
be said, before every plan had been discussed, every argument worn
threadbare. Then at last the council of war agreed to disperse, and
Joseph de Puisaye and his two friends took final leave of Madame la
Marquise and of Fernande, whilst M. de Courson went with them, in
order to escort them as far as the boundary gates of the park.

III
It was only when the men had gone that Madame la Marquise
bethought herself of her niece, and of the latter's strange attitude
while the council of war had been going on; whereupon she frowned
and then remarked testily:
"Of a truth, Fernande, I do not understand you. Here you have been
sitting like a stuffed dummy, the while the destinies of France were
being talked of by men who are sacrificing their lives for her. Where
is your enthusiasm of a year ago, my child? Where is your
patriotism? And what, in Heaven's name, hath come over you these
past few days?"
"Nothing, ma tante," replied Fernande with a little sigh of
impatience; "only a foreboding, I think."
"A foreboding?" queried Madame. "What about?"
"I don't know. But it seems to me that you are all so confident ... so
sure of success...."
"Well, are not you?"
"I think that M. de Puisaye—that you all, in fact, are not taking one
vastly important factor into your reckoning."
"What do you mean, Fernande? What factor are you alluding to?"
"To M. le Comte Ronnay de Maurel, of course," replied Fernande.
"Well," queried Madame tartly, "what about him?"
"Only, ma tante, that M. de Maurel is not the nonentity that you and
M. de Puisaye seem to imagine. He has just come back from Poland,
and at once dismissed the military overseers who had taken his
place in his absence. Does that look as if he meant to let the reins of
government slip through his fingers?"
"I don't know what you mean, child. Ronnay de Maurel may have
every intention in the world of ruling over his work-people and being
master in his own factories, but we are going to relieve him of that
responsibility in a day or two's time."
"That is where you are wrong, ma tante," broke in Fernande firmly.
"Ronnay de Maurel is not a man from whom you can wrest a
responsibility or a right quite so easily. Think you he doth not already
suspect Leroux' treachery and hath not taken the first steps to
combat it?"
"No, I do not think it for a moment," replied Madame with her usual
decisiveness. "Ronnay has only been home two days; he cannot yet
have taken up the reins of government at his factories with any
assurance. Moreover, Gaston de Maurel hath claimed all his
nephew's attention. The old man is really dying at last, I do believe."
"M. le Comte de Maurel is quite capable of devoting his time to his
sick kinsman and of keeping an eye on the administration of his
factories at the same time."
"You seem to have a very high opinion of my son's capabilities, my
dear," said Madame la Marquise snappishly.
"I have seen him with his workmen, remember," retorted Fernande.
"I have seen him deal with men like Leroux."
"Well?... And?..."
"And as I told you just now, he is not a man whom the Leroux' or
the de Puisayes are going to hoodwink, or to make a fool of; he is
not a man who can be caught napping, or from whose nerveless
hands the sceptre of power can so easily be snatched. Ronnay de
Maurel may to all outward appearances be a rustic—an
unsophisticated boor—but he is a man, for all that—a man and not a
puppet—he is very wide-awake—he is alive, oh! very much alive!—
and, believe me, he will know how to guard what is not only his
own, but is also of priceless value to the Emperor whom he
worships."
"Hoity-toity, child!" exclaimed Madame with ill-concealed asperity.
"Your indifference of a while ago seems to have given place to
marvellous vehemence in the defence of our common enemy. 'Tis
lucky your future husband is not here to see your flaming cheeks
now and your glowing eyes. But perhaps," she added with a dry,
forced laugh, "you will be good enough to explain the meaning of
these Cassandra-like prophetic warnings, for, of a truth, I do confess
that I do not understand them."
"An you will jeer, ma tante," said Fernande quietly; "'twere better I
said no more."
"It is your duty to say more, child, now you have said so much," said
Madame gravely. "What is it that in our council of war has struck you
as rash or ill-advised? I will confess that you do know my son
Ronnay better than any of us; you have seen him more often. He
has made love to you, and, in so doing, he may have revealed some
traits in his character which have remained hidden from us. Speak,
therefore, child, openly and frankly. You wish to warn us all. Against
what?"
"Against bribing a criminal—a jail-bird like Leroux, to betray his
master," replied Fernande calmly.
Madame laughed and shrugged her shoulders.
"That," she said, "my dear, is childish. On Leroux' help rests the
whole edifice of our plans and our entire hope of success."
"I know that well enough," rejoined Fernande. "I know that you are
not like to heed anything I say. I only spoke because you forced me.
Think you," she added more vehemently, "that if I had thought for a
moment that you, or father, or M. de Puisaye, would have listened to
me, I would not have dragged myself at your feet and kissed the
ground and licked the dust and never risen until you heard, until you
gave up all thought of joining issue with a miserable traitor, a
criminal like Leroux. It is because I knew that my voice would count
as less than nothing with you all that I remained silent."
"You speak with strange excitement, child...."
"I speak as I feel," she retorted hotly. "I speak because something in
me tells me that some awful disaster will come to us and to our
cause through trafficking with Leroux and his kind. Of this I am as
convinced, ma tante, as I am of the fact that M. de Maurel already
suspects our machinations, and on this," she concluded with
marvellous forcefulness, "I would stake my life."
"You are mad, Fernande!"
"Mad?" retorted the girl hotly, "mad because I implore you not to
sully our cause by joining issue with a handful of felons; mad
because I foresee an abyss of misery and of remorse for us all in this
monstrous treachery which we have planned. Ah! if it only meant a
ruse of war, a clever intrigue to catch an unwary foe! But what M. de
Puisaye has planned may mean murder, ma tante—the murder of a
brave man—and that man your son ...!"
"Fernande! In Heaven's name, what does this mean?"
The cry came from the door, which had suddenly been thrown open,
and Fernande, almost beside herself with the vehemence of her
emotion, turned and found herself face to face with Laurent, who
was standing under the lintel, his cheeks pale, his breath coming
and going in rapid gasps through his parted lips, his dark eyes fixed
gloweringly upon her.
"Mother, will you explain?" continued the young man peremptorily,
as he turned to Madame la Marquise and, closing the door behind
him, strode into the room.
"Nay, my good Laurent," replied Madame testily, "that I cannot do.
The explanation of this extraordinary outburst on the part of your
fiancée can only come from her. As for myself, I confess that I am
utterly bewildered by this torrent of recrimination which Fernande
has chosen to let loose upon us all. It seems that M. de Puisaye is a
murderer and we his accomplices ... that we are bribing a felon to
assassinate Ronnay de Maurel, for whose welfare my niece appears
to evince an extraordinarily deep interest. You must forgive me,
therefore, if I leave you to deal with the situation as best you can.
When Fernande is in a more rational frame of mind, we can discuss
the question of her leaving for Courson as soon as may be."
 IV
Madame sailed out of the room and Laurent was left alone with
Fernande. Already the strain seemed to have been lifted from her
nerves; the hectic flush of a while ago had fled from her cheeks and
left her face pale and her eyes calm and clear. Laurent approached
her, quivering with excitement; the insensate jealousy which never
ceased to torture him had him now under its evil sway. He tried to
draw Fernande close to him, and almost uttered a cry of rage when
she appeared unresponsive and turned quite coolly away from him.
"Fernande," he said, and tried in vain to subdue the harshness of his
voice, which he felt must grate unpleasantly on the young girl's
overstrung nerves, "I heard most of what you said to my mother.
She is hurt—and justly so—at your attitude. Will you let me go to her
with a message from you, telling her that you were overwrought and
hardly conscious of what you said?"
"You may go, Laurent," replied Fernande coldly, "and tell ma tante
that I am deeply grieved if what I said did really offend her. I did not
mean to offend. I only meant to strike a note of warning. It hath
proved jarring," she added dejectedly, "and of no avail. Therefore
am I doubly sorry. But, even so, I would not have it unsaid."
"Not even if I were to tell you, Fernande, that your hot defence of
that traitor went to my heart like a knife and caused me infinite
pain."
"If what I said about your brother hurts you, Laurent, then you must
be harbouring thoughts about me which are an insult to your future
wife."
"If only I could believe that you loved me!" he cried, as with sudden
and passionate impulse he once more tried to take her in his arms.
His glowing eyes strove to meet her glance, but she seemed utterly
unapproachable as she stood beside him like a slender white lily,
with her small head averted and her blue eyes looking out into the
distance as far away from him as was the heaven of which he
dreamed. His arms dropped listlessly to his side.
"If I only could believe that you loved me, Fernande," he reiterated
sadly.
"Poor Laurent," she murmured gently. Of her own free will now she
placed her cool fingers upon his lips, and he seized upon them
hungrily and covered them with kisses. "Poor Laurent! I told you, did
I not, on the day nearly a year ago now, when I solemnly plighted
my troth to you in response to my father's wish, that I had it not in
me to love any man? Methinks that I shall never know really what
love is.... I shall never know," she added, with a quaint, melancholy
little sigh, "the kind of love which is for ever wounding and hurting
the thing it loves."
"Forgive me, Fernande," he cried, already repentant, cursing himself
for his perpetual folly, and knowing all the while that nothing would
ever cure him of it. "I am a jealous brute, I know. I hate and despise
myself every time that my temper offends you. But if you only knew,
Fernande ..." he sighed, "if only you could understand...."
"I do know, Laurent, and I do understand ... am I not always ready
to forgive?... But you must try, dear, to trust me a little better. A
scene like the one we have just had is not an over good augury for
our future, is it?"
"I hated to hear you speak so warmly about that man."
"I called him brave ... can you deny that he is?"
"No ... but...."
"There! there!" she said soothingly, dealing with him with infinite
gentleness now that she had reduced him to a state of remorse. "Go
and speak with ma tante, and make my excuses to her, if you think
they are necessary."
She held out her cheek to him with one of her most captivating
smiles, and poor Laurent was ready to sob with delight. She allowed
him to take her in his arms and to kiss her sweet lips, her eyes, her
hair, and if she did not respond to his caresses quite as ardently as
he would have wished, he had, nevertheless, no cause to complain
that she withdrew herself from them.
"My mother said that we were to discuss the question of your going
to Courson," he said, before he finally took leave of her.
"Oh, as to that," she rejoined coolly, "you may tell ma tante that I
have changed my mind. She did not approve of my going, did she?
so I will, if I may," she added, with a sweet air of innocence, "remain
at La Frontenay for a few days longer with her."
"Fernande, you are an angel!" he exclaimed. And he dropped on his
knee and kissed her little hand with the same fervour as he would
have kissed the robe of a Madonna. His head was bent and the tears
of remorse still hung upon his lashes, or else, no doubt, he would
have perceived the strange, elusive smile which lingered round his
beloved one's lips.

V
Away from Fernande's bewitching presence Laurent de Mortain was
conscious once more of the gnawing pangs of jealousy, nor did his
mother contrive to soothe him in any way. Madame la Marquise was
terribly angered against her niece. The girl's accusing words: "And
that man your son!" rang unpleasantly and insistently upon her ear.
Not that fanaticism allowed her for a moment to feel compunction—
let alone remorse—at what she had done, nor did she delude herself
for a moment as to the probable truth of Fernande's accusations. De
Puisaye's plan of seizing the La Frontenay factories through the
mediation of a set of unscrupulous blackguards would certainly entail
bloodshed—murder, perhaps—if, indeed, the slaughter of a
dangerous enemy could be called by such an ugly name when the
cause was so holy and so just.
That the dangerous enemy happened to be her own son did not
weigh for a moment with Madame la Marquise. Her heart and soul
were wrapped up in the cause of King Louis, and if her beloved
Laurent had at any time proved a traitor to it, she would have
plucked him out of her heart and left him to die a traitor's death,
with the stoicism of a Spartan mother sacrificing an unfit son to the
general weal of her country. But though fanaticism did in so
complete a manner rule her every thought and smother every one of
her sensibilities, Madame did not like to hear her actions criticized,
nor the callousness of her heart brought so crudely to the light of
day. She was very angry with Fernande, and seeing that Laurent's
jealousy had been very fully aroused by the scene which he had
witnessed, she was willing to let her son be the avenger of her own
offended dignity. She knew that Laurent could make his fiancée
suffer acutely while he was a prey to one of his moods, and that he
would find many a word wherewith to wound her as deeply as she
had dared to wound his mother.
"It is strange," said Madame, with a good deal of acerbity, when she
was discussing with Laurent, a quarter of an hour or so later on,
Fernande's inexplicable conduct of a while ago. "It is strange that
she should so suddenly desire to remain at La Frontenay when not
more than a couple of hours ago she was so set on going away."
"What do you mean, mother?" he asked with a frown. "Do you
think...?"
"I don't know what to think," broke in Madame testily. "Fernande has
been very strange of late. Her attitude to-day has been absolutely
incomprehensible."
"You don't think," murmured Laurent with some hesitation and not a
little shamefacedness, "you don't think that she has met Ronnay
again?"
"You never know what Fernande has done or what she may do,"
rejoined Madame evasively. "She has become so headstrong and so
secretive, I really do not know what to make of her."
All of which did not tend to pour oil on the troubled waters of poor
Laurent's jealousy; in fact, the more Madame talked, the more
wretched he became, until his face became literally distorted with
wrath and with misery. Then she felt sorry for him; compunction
smote her, for she did not genuinely believe that Fernande had done
anything to justify her lover's suspicions, and she also realized at the
same time that she was doing considerable harm by irritating her
son's nerves with her spiteful promptings, at a moment when he had
need of all his coolness and courage to accomplish the important
task which his chief had assigned to him. The campaign would begin
now in earnest; Laurent would perforce be often separated from his
fiancée, and the cause of King Louis would be ill served if his heart
and his thoughts remained at La Frontenay while he was leading a
surprise attack upon Domfront. This being, as always, Madame la
Marquise de Mortain's primary consideration, she drew in her horns
and did her best to undo the mischief which she had been at great
pains to wreak.
"It is no use," she said soothingly, "to worry yourself unnecessarily
about Fernande. She certainly is very headstrong—she is also self-
willed and thoughtless; but she has loved you ever since you and
she were children together. There is not a thought of guile in her,
and the provoking little scene with which she regaled me just now
may have been due to pique, that I did not at once accept her
prophetic warnings."
"I wish I could think so," sighed Laurent.
"You must bring yourself to think so, my dear," retorted Madame
dryly. "You have far more important things to dwell on at this
moment than the vagaries of a young girl's moods. Not only will the
success of M. de Puisaye's plans depend upon your coolness and
your valour, but his life and the lives of the men whom he leads will
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