"You know for certain, sir, what this letter contains?"

"Yes, Madame; your mother read it to me."

She was silent for "more than two minutes"; then she said as if she were making a great effort:

"One must obey one's mother's orders. Well, Monsieur, I will go with you. Will you not wait till to-morrow evening?"

Captain Delaitre at first demurred at the idea of deferring his journey; but at last their departure was fixed for the following day, October 3d, at nightfall. A heated discussion ensued. Langelley noticed that Vannier, Allain, Placene and the others did not approve of Mme.

Acquet's decision. They were all certain that she ran not the slightest risk by remaining in Caen, inasmuch as there would never be a judge to prosecute nor a tribunal to condemn her. Delaitre replied that it was precisely to guard against the indulgence of the Calvados authorities, that an imperial decree had laid the affair before the special court at Rouen; but the lawyer who could not see his last chance of laying hands on the Buquets' treasure disappear without feeling some annoyance, replied that nothing must be decided without the advice of their friends. The young woman ended the discussion by declaring that she was going "because it was her mother's wish."

"Are you sure," asked Chauvel, "that that really is your mother's writing?"

She answered yes, and the gendarme said that in his opinion she was right to obey.

They then settled the details of the departure. Langelley offered to conduct the travellers to the borders of the department of Calvados, which Delaitre knew very slightly. Mme. Acquet was to take no luggage.

Her clothes were to be forwarded to her, care of the Captain, at the Rouen office. The conversation took a "tone of the sincerest friendship and the greatest confidence." When the hour for separating came, Mme.

Acquet pressed the Captain's hand several times, saying, "Till to-morrow, then, Monsieur." And as she went down the stairs Chauvel remained behind with Delaitre, to make sure that the latter had brought money to pay the small debts which the fugitive had incurred with the tradesmen.

Towards eleven on the following morning Chauvel presented himself at the inn alone. He went up at once to Delaitre's room who asked him to lunch and sent his nephew out to get oysters. Chauvel had come to beg Delaitre to put off his journey another day, as Mme. Acquet could not start before Sunday, the 4th. While they were at lunch Chauvel became quite confidential. He could not see his friend go away without regret; he alone, he said, had served her from pure devotion. He told how, in order to put off his comrades, who had been charged by Manginot to draw up a description of the fugitive, he had intentionally made it out incorrectly, describing her "as being very stout and having fair hair."

He talked of d'Ache whom he considered a brigand and "the sole cause of all the misfortunes which had happened to Mme. de Combray and her family." Finally he inquired if the Captain would consent to take Buquet and Allain to England as they were in fact two of the princ.i.p.al actors in the affair, and the Captain consented very willingly. It was agreed that as soon as he had landed Mme. Acquet in England, he should return to Saint-Valery which was his port. All Allain and Buquet had to do, was to go to Privost, the innkeeper, opposite the post at Cany on Wednesday, the 14th, and he would meet them and take them on board.

During luncheon Delaitre, who was obviously a messenger of Providence, counted out 400 francs in gold on the table, and gave them to Chauvel to pay his mistress's debts.

Vannier had claimed six louis for the hospitality he had shown her, alleging that "this sort of lodger ought to pay more than the others on account of the risk;" he further demanded that the cost of twenty ma.s.ses, which Mme. Acquet had had said, should be refunded to him.

Chauvel spent part of the Sunday with Delaitre; the meeting was fixed for seven in the evening. The Captain was to wait at the door of his inn and follow Mme. Acquet when he saw her pa.s.s with the gendarme. She only appeared at ten at night, and they walked separately as far as Vaucelles. Langelley kept them waiting, but he arrived at last on a borrowed horse; the Captain had got a post-horse; as for the nephew, Delaitre, and the servant, they had gone back the evening before to Rouen.

The time had come to say good-bye. Mme. Acquet embraced Chauvel who parted from her "in the tenderest manner, enjoining Delaitre to take the greatest care of the precious object confided to him." Langelley, armed with a club for a riding whip, placed himself at the head of the cavalcade, Delaitre warmly wrapping Mme. Acquet in his cloak, took her up behind him, and with renewed good wishes, warm handshakes, and sad "au revoirs" the hors.e.m.e.n set off at a trot on the road to Dives.

Chauvel saw them disappear in the mist, but he waited at the deserted crossroads as long as he could hear the clatter of their horses' hoofs on the road.

They arrived at Dives about three in the morning. The young woman, who had seemed very lively, protested that she was not tired, and refused to get off. Therefore Langelley alone entered the post-house, woke up the guide he had engaged the day before, and they continued their journey.

The day was breaking when they arrived at Annebault; the three travelers halted at an inn where they spent the whole day; the lawyer and Mme.

Acquet settled their little accounts. They slept a little, they talked a great deal, and spent a long time over dinner. At six in the evening they mounted their horses again and took the road to Pont-l'Eveque.

Langelley escorted the fugitives as far as the forest of Touques: before leaving Mme. Acquet, he asked her for a lock of her hair; he then embraced her several times.

It was nearly midnight when the young woman found herself alone with Delaitre. The horse advanced with difficulty along the forest roads.

Clinging to the Captain with both arms, Mme. Acquet no longer talked; her excitement of yesterday had given place to a kind of stupor, so that Delaitre, who in the darkness could not see that her great dark eyes were open, thought that she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. At three in the morning they at length arrived at the suburbs of Pont-Audemer; the Captain stopped at the post-house and asked for a room; in the register which was presented to him he wrote: "Monsieur Delaitre and wife."

They were breakfasting towards noon when a non-commissioned marine officer, accompanied by an escort of two men, entered the room. He went straight up to Delaitre, asked his name, and observing his agitation, called upon him to show his papers. These he took possession of after a brief examination, and then ordered the soldiers to put Delaitre under arrest.

The officer, an amiable and talkative little man, continually excused himself to Mme. Acquet for the annoyance he was causing her. Captain Delaitre, he said, had left his ship without any authority, and it had been pointed out, moreover, that he had willingly engaged in smuggling while pretending to be trading along the coast. He did not commit the indiscretion of inquiring the lady's name, nor what reason she had for scouring the country in company of a ship's captain; but he carefully gave her to understand that she must be detained until they got to Rouen, whither Delaitre would be escorted to receive a reprimand from the commandant of the port. Mme. Acquet was convinced that it was nothing but a misunderstanding which would be cleared up at Rouen, and troubled very little about the incident; and as she was worn out with fatigue, she expressed a wish to spend that night and the following day at Pont-Audemer. The little officer consented with alacrity, and whilst appearing only to keep an eye on Delaitre, he never for an instant lost sight of the young woman, whose att.i.tudes, gestures and appearance he scrutinised with malicious eyes. It was Licquet, as we have already guessed, who in his haste to know the result of the false Delaitre's adventures, had dressed himself up in a borrowed uniform and come to receive his new victim. He was full of forethought for her; he took her in a carriage from Pont-Audemer to Bourg-Achard, where he allowed her to rest. On the morning of the seventh they left Bourg-Achard and arrived at Rouen before midday. The kindly officer was so persuasive that Mme.

Acquet offered no resistance nor recriminations when she was taken to the Conciergerie, where she was entered under the name of Rosalie Bourdon, doubtless the one under which she had travelled. She appeared quite indifferent to all that went on around her. On entering this prison, where she knew her mother was, she showed absolutely no emotion.

She remained in this state of resigned la.s.situde for two days. Licquet, who came to see her several times, endeavoured to keep her under the impression that her imprisonment had no other cause than Delaitre's infringement of the maritime regulations; he even took the precaution of pretending not to know her name.

Meanwhile, he laid his plans for attack. At first his joy, at capturing the much desired prey had been so keen that he could not withstand the pleasure of writing the news straight to Real whom he asked to keep it secret for a fortnight. On reflexion he realised how difficult it would be to obtain confessions from a woman who had been so hideously deceived, and he felt that the traps, into which the nave Mme. de Combray had fallen would be of no avail in her daughter's case. He had better ones: on his person he carried the letter which Mme. de Combray had written to her dear Delaitre, which he had taken from the Captain in Mme. Acquet's very presence. In this letter, the Marquise had spoken of her daughter as "the vilest of creatures, lamenting that for her own safety she was obliged to come to the a.s.sistance of such a monster; she especially complained of the amount of money it was costing her."

On the 9th of October, Licquet came into Mme. Acquet's cell, began to converse familiarly with her, told her that he knew her name and showed her Mme. de Combray's letter. On reading it Mme. Acquet flew into a violent pa.s.sion. Licquet comforted her, gave her to understand that he was her only friend, that her mother hated her and had only helped her in the hope of saving her own life; that the lawyer Lefebre had sold himself to the police on giving the Chauvels' address at Falaise, in proof of which he showed her the note written by the lawyer's own hand.

He even went so far as to allude to certain infidelities on the part of Le Chevalier, and to the mistresses he must have had in Paris, till at last the unhappy woman burst into tears of indignation and grief.

"Enough," she said; "it is my turn now; you must receive my declaration immediately, and take it at once to the prefect. I will confess everything. My life is a burden to me."

She immediately told the long story of d'Ache's plans, his journeys to England, the organisation of the plot, the attempt to print the Prince's manifesto, and also how he had beguiled Le Chevalier and had succeeded in drawing him into it, by promises of high rank and great honours. She said, too, that d'Ache whom she accused of having caused all the unhappiness of her life, had recommended robbing the public treasury; that the attacks on the coaches had been carried out by his orders, which had been "to stop them all." She accused her mother of helping to transport the booty to Caen; herself she accused of having sheltered the brigands. The only ones she excused were Joseph Buquet, who had only carried out her instructions, and Le Chevalier whom she represented as beguiled by d'Ache's misleading promises. Her "frantic pa.s.sion" was apparent in every word she uttered: she even told Licquet that "if she could save Le Chevalier's life at the cost of her own she would not hesitate."

When she had finished her long declaration, she fell into a state of deep depression. On entering the prison next day, Licquet found her engaged in cutting off her magnificent hair, which, she said sadly, she wished to save from the executioner. She observed that since she was miserably destined to die, Chauvel, who called himself her friend, had done very wrong in preventing her from taking poison: all would have been over by now. But she hoped that grief would kill her before they had time to condemn her.

As she said these words she turned her beautiful piercing eyes to a dark corner of her cell. Licquet, following her gaze, saw a very prominent nail sticking in the wall at a height of about six feet. Without letting her see his anxiety, he tried to direct the prisoner's attention to other objects, and succeeded in working her up to a state of "wild gaiety."

That very day the nail was taken out, but there still remained the bolts of the door and the bed-posts, to which, being of such low stature, she could hang herself; a woman from Bicetre was therefore set to watch her.

It would be impossible to follow Licquet through all the phases of the inquiry. This diabolical man seems to have possessed the gift of ubiquity. He was in the prison where he worked upon the prisoners; at the prefecture directing the examinations; at Caen, making inquiries under the very nose of Caffarelli, who believed that the affair had long since been buried; at Falaise, where he was collecting testimony; at Honfleur, at Pont-Audemer, at Paris. He drew up innumerable reports, and sent them to the prefect or to Real, with whom he corresponded directly, and when he was asked what reward he was ambitious of obtaining for his devoted service to the State, he replied philosophically: "I do not work for my own glory, but only for that of the police generally, and of our dear Councillor, whom I love with all my heart. As for me, poor devil, I am destined to remain obscure, which, I must say, pleases me, since I recognise the inconvenience of having a reputation."

One of the most picturesque events of his enquiry was another journey taken towards the end of October by the false Captain Delaitre and his false nephew in search of Allain and Buquet, whom they had not found on the day mentioned at the inn at Cany. At Caen Delaitre saw again the lawyer Langelley, the Placenes and Monderard's daughter, and they entertained him. He gave them very good news of Mme. Acquet, who, he said, was comfortably settled at a place on the English coast; but although he had a very important letter for Allain, which Mme. de Combray wished him to take to England without delay, the wily Chouan did not show himself. His daughter, who had set up as a dressmaker at Caen and was in communication with Mme. Placene, undertook, however, to forward the letter to him. The Captain announced his intention of following the girl in the hope of discovering her father's retreat, but Langelley and the others a.s.sured him that it would be a waste of time.

The young girl alone knew where the outlaw was hidden and "each time she went to take him news, she disguised herself, entered a house, disguised herself afresh before leaving, went into another house, changed her costume yet again, and so on. It was impossible to be sure when she came out of each house that it was the same person who had gone in, and to know in which her father was." Two days later the girl reappeared. She said that her father had gone to his own home near Cherbourg, where "he had property." He wanted to sell his furniture and lease his land before going to England. This was the other side of the terrible "General Antonio." He was a good father and a small landed proprietor. Delaitre realised that this was a defeat, and that Allain was not easily to be beguiled. He did not persist, but packed up his traps and returned to Rouen.

This check was all the more painful to Licquet, since he had hoped that by attracting Allain, d'Ache would also be ensnared. Without the latter, who was evidently the head of the conspiracy, only the inferiors could be arraigned, and the part of the princ.i.p.al criminal would have to be pa.s.sed over in silence, in consequence of which the affair would sink to the proportions of common highway robbery. Stimulated by these motives, and still more so by his amour-propre, Licquet set out for Caen. His joy in action was so keen that it pervades all his reports. He describes himself as taking the coach with Delaitre, his nephew and "two or three active henchmen." He is so sure of success that he discounts it in advance: "I do not know," he writes to Real, "whether I am flattering myself too much, but I am tempted to hope that the author will be called for at the end of the play."

It is to be regretted that we have no details of this expedition. In what costume did Licquet appear at Caen? What personality did he a.s.sume?

How did he carry out his manoeuvres between Mme. Acquet's friends, his confederate Delaitre and the Prefect Caffarelli, without arousing any one's suspicion or wounding their susceptibilities? It is impossible to disentangle this affair; he was an adept at troubling water that he might safely fish in it, and seemed jealous to such a degree of the means he employed, that he would not divulge the secret to any one. With an instinctive love of mystification, he kept up during his journey an official correspondence with his prefect and a private one with Real.

He told one what he would not confess to the other; he wrote to Savoye-Rollin that he was in a hurry to return to Rouen, while by the same post he asked Real to get him recalled to Paris during the next twenty-four hours. "If you adopt this idea, Monsieur, you must be kind enough to select a pretext which will not wound or even scratch any one's amour-propre." The "any one" mentioned here is Savoye-Rollin. What secret had Licquet discovered, that he did not dare to confide, except orally, and then only to the Imperial Chief of Police? We believe that we are not wrong in premising that scarcely had he arrived at Caen when he laid hands on a witness so important, and at the same time so difficult to manipulate, that he was himself frightened at this unexpected _coup de theatre_.

Whilst ferreting about in the prisons to which he had obtained access that he might talk to Lanoe and the Buquets, he met Acquet de Ferolles, who had been forgotten there for three months. Whether Mme. de Placene was, as Vannier suspected, employed by the police and knew Licquet's real personality, or whether the latter found another intermediary, it is certain that he obtained Acquet de Ferolles' confidence from the beginning, and that he got the credit of having him set at liberty. It was after this interview that Licquet asked Real to recall him to Paris for twenty-four hours. His journey took place in the early days of November, and on the 12th, on an order from Real Acquet was rearrested and taken in a post-chaise from Donnay to Paris, escorted by a sergeant of police. On the 16th he was entered in the Temple gaol-book, and Real, who hastened to interrogate him, showed him great consideration, and promised that his detention should not be long. A note, which is still to be found among the papers connected with this affair, seems to indicate that this incarceration was not of a nature to cause great alarm to the Lord of Donnay: "M. Acquet has been taken to Paris that he may not interfere with the proceedings against his wife.... It is known that he is unacquainted with his wife's offence, but M. Real believes it necessary to keep him at a distance." That was not the tone in which the police of that period usually spoke of their ordinary prisoners, and it seems advisable to call attention to the fact. Let us add that the royalists detained in the Temple were not taken in by it. M. de Revoire, an old habitue of the prison, who spent the whole of the Imperial period in captivity told the Combray family after the Restoration, that all the prisoners considered Acquet "as a spy, an informer, the whole time he was in the Temple." After a week's imprisonment and three weeks'

surveillance in Paris, he was set at liberty and returned to Donnay.

From the comparison of these facts and dates, is one not led to infer that Licquet had persuaded Acquet without much difficulty we may be sure, to become his wife's accuser? But the desire not to compromise himself, and still more the dread of reprisals, shut the mouth of the unworthy husband at Caen, eager though he was to speak in Paris, provided that no one should suspect the part he was playing; hence this sham imprisonment in the Temple--evidently Licquet's idea--which gave him time to make revelations to Real.

Whatever it may have been, this incident interrupted Licquet's journey to Caen. He continued it towards the middle of November, quitting Rouen on the 18th, still accompanied by Delaitre and others of his cleverest men. This time he represented himself as an inspector of taxes, which gave him the right of entering houses and visiting even the cellars. His aim was to unearth Allain, Buquet and especially d'Ache, but none of them appeared. We cannot deal with this third journey in detail, as Licquet has kept the threads of the play secret, but from half-confidences made to Real, we may infer that he bought the concurrence of Langelley and Chauvel on formal promises of immunity from punishment; they consented to serve the detective and betray Allain, and they were on the point of delivering him up when "fear of the Gendarme Mallet caused everything to fail." Licquet fell back with his troop, taking with him Chauvel, Mallet and Langelley, who were soon to be followed by Lanoe, Vannier, Placene and all the Buquets, save Joseph, who had not been seen again. But before starting on his return journey to Rouen, Licquet wished to pay his respects to Count Caffarelli, the Prefect of Calvados, in whose territory he had just been hunting. The latter did not conceal his displeasure, and thought it strange that his own gendarmes should be ordered to proceed with criminal cases and to make arrests of which they neglected even to inform him. Licquet states that after "looking black at him, Caffarelli laughed till he cried" over the stories of the false Captain Delaitre and the false inspector of taxes. It is probable that the story was well told; but the Prefect of Calvados was none the less annoyed at the unceremonious procedure, as he testified a little later with some bl.u.s.tering. Licquet, moreover, was not deceived: on his return from Caen, he wrote: "Behold, I have quarrelled with the Prefect of Calvados."

However, he cared very little about it. It had been tacitly decreed that the robbery at Quesnay should be judged by a special court at Rouen.

Licquet became the organiser and stage-manager of the proceedings. At the end of 1807 he had under lock and key thirty-eight prisoners whom he questioned incessantly, and kept in a state of uncertainty as to whether he meant to confront them with each other. But he declared himself dissatisfied. D'Ache's absence spoiled his joy. He quite understood that without the latter, his triumph would be incomplete, his work would remain unfinished, and it was doubtless due to this torturing obsession that he owed the idea, as cruel as it was ingenious, of a new drama of which the old Marquise de Combray was again the victim.

On a certain day of November, 1807, she heard from her cell an unusual tumult in the pa.s.sages of the prison. Doors burst open and people called to each other. There were cries of joy, whispers, exclamations of astonishment or vexation, then long silences, which left the prisoner perplexed. The next day when Licquet came to visit her she noticed that his face wore a troubled expression. He was very laconic, mentioned grave events which were preparing, and disappeared like a busy man. To prisoners everything is a reason for hope, and that night Mme. de Combray gave free course to her illusions. The following day she received through the woman Delaitre, a short letter from the honest "Captain"--the man who had saved Mme. Acquet, killed the yellow horse, and whom she called her guardian angel. The guardian angel wrote only a few words: "Bonaparte is overthrown; the King is about to land in France; the prisons are opening everywhere. Write a letter at once to M.

d'Ache which he can hand to his Majesty. I will undertake to forward it to him."

It is a truly touching fact that the old Marquise, whose energy no fatigue, no moral torture could abate, fainted from happiness on learning of her King's return.

The event realised all her hopes. For so many years she had been expecting it from one moment to another, without ever growing discouraged, that a denouement for which she had been prepared so long, seemed quite natural to her, and she immediately made her arrangements for the new life that was about to commence. She first of all wrote a line of thanks to the "good Delaitre," promising her protection and a.s.suring him that he should be rewarded for his devotion. She then wrote to d'Ache a letter overflowing with joy.

"I have reached the pinnacle of my happiness, my dear Vicomte," she wrote, "which is that of all France. I rejoice in your glory. M.

Delaitre has rendered me the greatest services, and during the past two months has been constantly journeying in my behalf. His wife, my companion in misfortune, has turned towards me his interest in the unhappy, and he has sent me a message informing me of the great events which are to put an end to all our troubles, advising me to write a letter to the King and send it to you to present to him.

This is a bright idea, and compensates for the fact that my son is not lucky enough to be in his proper place, as we desired and planned. Your dear brother in chains is only supported by the thought of your glory. I do not know how to speak to a king so great by reason of his courage and virtue. I have allowed my heart to speak, and I count upon you to obtain the favour of a visit from him at Tournebut. The prisons are open everywhere.... I have borne my imprisonment courageously for three years, but fell ill on hearing the great news. You will let me know in time if I am to have the happiness of entertaining the King. It is very bold of me to ask if such a favour is possible in a house which I believe to be devastated by commissioners who have exhausted on it their rage at not finding you there. Render, I beg of you, to M. Delaitre all that I owe him. You will know him as a relation of our poor Raoul.

He is inspired with the same sentiments and begs you to let him serve you, not wishing to remain idle in such a good cause and at such a great moment. This letter bears the marks of our imprisonment. Accept, my dear Vicomte, my sentiments of attachment and veneration.

"I have the honour to be,

"Your very humble servant,

"De Combray.