"Not when Amaryllis is the shepherdess, by Jupiter!" said d.i.c.k, with genuine enthusiasm.

So the game went on, and, whether or not it was all fun with Amaryllis, it soon became half in earnest with Silvius. By a miracle, the balmy weather, a premature promise of spring, lasted a week. Every day Silvius came to the tryst, and, when he did not find Amaryllis waiting, he had not long to wait for her. They strolled along the wooded banks of the Seine, fancying those banks to be now those of the Lignon, now those of the Tiber, now those of some h.e.l.lenic or Sicilian stream.

Sometimes a dainty luncheon, set out in the lodge or under the trees, varied the monotony of this shepherd life. Sometimes the conversation rose far out of the ken of ordinary shepherds, and invaded such subjects as philosophy and religion, sentiment and the pa.s.sions, art and letters, music and the drama. Amaryllis described the acting of LeKain, and Silvius gave an account of the last appearance of Garrick, which d.i.c.k had witnessed from the first gallery of Drury Lane Theatre the previous June 10th, when the English actor played "Don Felix" in "The Wonder" and made a farewell speech that drew tears from himself and his brilliant audience. But d.i.c.k learned far more than he could impart. His week of make-believe pastoral was an education, and did more to fit him for the fine world than all his former years had done. Of course that week had results of the heart as well as of the intellect.

One afternoon, the second Tuesday of their acquaintance, after they had sat some time at the lodge in silence, d.i.c.k gazing pensively at the green s.p.a.ce before him, he let his thought take the form of speech:

"After all, when you are eighteen I shall be only twenty-six."

"That will be seven years from now," she said, lightly. "Seven years is a very long time."

"So much the better. It gives a man like me time to attain a position worthy of a woman like you."

"Oh, position, rank, and that sort of thing, what are they, after all?

Have you heard what the Empress of Russia said to Monsieur Diderot? You know that by devoting himself to the encyclopaedia, Monsieur Diderot has kept himself poor, and his threadbare coat is no affectation. Well, Catherine II., aware of this, and appreciating the great sacrifice made in the interest of knowledge, bought Monsieur Diderot's library at a fine price, and then ordered it left in Paris, and appointed him her librarian to take care of it. Monsieur Diderot went to St. Petersburg four years ago, to thank her in person, and while he was there Catherine and he got into many disputes on questions of philosophy. One day Diderot hinted that he was at a disadvantage in arguing with the Empress of all the Russias. 'Nonsense,' said Catherine, 'is there any difference between men?'"

d.i.c.k sighed, perceiving that she had sought to divert him from the topic he had broached. He rowed back to St. Denis that evening an unmistakably love-sick youth. He could hardly wait for the next afternoon, that he might renew the subject at any hazard.

On the morrow, to his dismay, the sky was dark, and chill winds were blowing. Spring, having thrust her sunny face in at the door too soon, had been frightened far away, and might never have been present, so different was to-day's world from yesterday's. d.i.c.k resolved, nevertheless, to make his usual voyage.

Rain had already begun to fall on the agitated surface of the river, when he landed at the park. He hastened to the lodge and found it empty.

How bleak and utterly forlorn the place now seemed! How disconsolate in heart was d.i.c.k! Well, he ought not to have expected her on such a day.

He gazed with a heavy sigh at the spot where she usually sat.

What was that white thing, lying under a pebble, on that very spot? d.i.c.k seized it eagerly, saw the name "Silvius" written on it, opened it out hastily with trembling fingers. It was indeed a note, written in a charming hand, and signed "Amaryllis." His disappointment turned to gladness,--for the first sight of the beloved's handwriting, addressed to oneself, is as good as an interview,--and he read:

"For a few days I must be away, yet Silvius will come as usual to the lodge, will he not? On the day of her return, he will find Amaryllis waiting. Since I last saw Silvius I have been thinking.

It is true, seven years is not a very long time!"

One knows, without being told, what demonstrations Silvius made over this letter, how often he re-read it, what other things he did to it, and where he finally bestowed it as he returned to his boat to row back to St. Denis. He scarcely knew what he was doing, as he pulled his boat out into the current, or how disturbed the river was, how heavily the rain came down. So overjoyed was he by the promise contained in the last line of the letter, that he was not cognizant of outward circ.u.mstances until he was half-way between St. Ouen and St. Denis. Then he became aware of the work of wind and water. He saw, moreover, that the day was as dark as late evening, and that all signs were growing more threatening every minute.

"The devil!" thought he. "This is not a time for taking chances, now that such prospects await me. I must guard my life and health, and achieve great things during those seven years."

He therefore rowed to an old, abandoned landing, which led to a ruined garden, within whose crumbling walls stood a deserted house of rough gray stone. On d.i.c.k's first row up the river, he had been told by the boatman that this house had long been unoccupied.

Making his boat fast to a wooden spile, d.i.c.k went through the half unhinged, half opened gate which was partly sunk into the earth, and up the weed-grown garden walk, to the house. The door yielded to his pressure, and he pa.s.sed through a bare, dark, damp, mouldy corridor, into a room whose windows opened on the garden. Though otherwise empty, this room contained an old oak table, and several rough wooden chairs.

d.i.c.k sat down and waited for the storm to abate.

The doors and windows creaked, the wind sighed through the corridors and chambers overhead, the rains beat on what gla.s.s remained in the cas.e.m.e.nts. But what was that other sound? Surely it was of the footsteps of men. Peering through the window, d.i.c.k saw forms approaching through the shrubbery, from a small side gate in the garden wall. These were, doubtless, the last of a party whose foremost members were already in the corridor.

The intruders came cautiously, but as if familiar with the place.

Evidently some organized meeting was at hand in this empty house. d.i.c.k noticed the chairs and table anew. What were these men? A social club, a gang of thieves, or a band of conspirators? In any one of these cases d.i.c.k felt that he would be _de trop_. Manifestly the men were approaching the room in which he sat. They were already too near the door for him to escape unseen by the corridor. So he slipped into the wide, empty fireplace with which the room was provided, and whose rear was quite in shadow. A moment later three men entered the room.

Each took from beneath his cloak a bundle wrapped in cloth, and laid it on the table, then sat down and waited. Other men arrived, almost immediately, and the number kept increasing at short intervals until perhaps fifteen were gathered. Their conversation so far had consisted of brief remarks about the weather. They now sat in an irregular semicircle, facing the table. The man who had first entered arose and opened the bundles. The gray light of the stormy afternoon disclosed the contents of these bundles as three swords and several pistols.

"Messieurs," said the man who had risen,--an erect, powerful, handsome man of thirty,--"the hour is almost at hand. That all of us may partic.i.p.ate in the intention, though but one of us may strike the blow, I am to describe fully the plan agreed upon by the Committee of Three.

As each one of us is potentially the chosen arm of the Brotherhood in this honorable deed, it behooves each one to attend every detail as if he were, in fact, already the selected instrument."

The men sat in perfect silence, their eyes fixed upon the speaker, every att.i.tude being that of breathless attention.

"In this silken bag," continued the orator, producing from beneath his cloak that which he mentioned, "are a number of beans. One of them is red, four are black, the others white. As soon as the plan of action shall have been made known, each man shall draw from the bag a single bean, in the order in which his name appears on our list. When all have drawn, and not till then, each man shall disclose his bean to view at the table. The possessor of the red bean will be G.o.d's choice for the performance of this holy mission. He shall choose one of these swords, which differ in weight and size, though all have been blessed and devoted to our righteous purpose. The four who hold black beans shall guide and guard the chosen instrument, both to protect him, and to a.s.sure the Brotherhood against the consequences of any possible weakness on his part. The holders of the white beans shall not act in the present task; but, in the improbable event of its failure, the whole Brotherhood shall a.s.sist the four, if necessary, as avengers against the brother who will have failed, as spies to seek him out should he hide, as hounds upon his track should he flee, as executioners to compa.s.s his death when he is brought before us. Is it agreed?"

"Agreed!" said every man, resolutely, with clenched fingers, set teeth, and gleaming eyes.

"The procedure shall be in this wise," went on the leader. "In an hour, a carriage will be waiting outside the gate of this garden. The chosen man, armed with the sword, shall be conducted to it by the four, each provided with two of these pistols. Two of the four shall enter the carriage with him, the other two shall take the place of the coachman, who will be dismissed. The carriage shall set forth at once. The Committee of Three has provided already for its pa.s.sage through the barrier, unhindered by the revenue collectors. The carriage will proceed through the Faubourg de St. Denis, cross the boulevard, turn into the Rue Clery, and so continue to the corner of the Rue du Pet.i.t Carreau, at which corner, as we all know, the house is situated. The two gentlemen of the black bean, in the carriage, shall accompany him of the red bean to the door, their hands upon their pistols beneath their cloaks. When the servant responds to their knock, the chosen man shall give the name of Victor Mayet, and say that he must see Monsieur Necker immediately.

Victor Mayet is a clerk in the General Control Office, and Necker will suppose he comes on a matter of urgent importance. Necker also will surely receive him alone. When the man enters, his two comrades shall return to the carriage, and wait for his reappearance. The man himself will keep his sword concealed until he is alone with Necker. At that moment, taking our enemy by surprise, he will thrust his sword into Necker's body as many times as may be necessary to a.s.sure its reaching a vital spot. So shall fall the haughty bourgeois Protestant, whom the King in his blindness has raised to the most powerful post in the land, and would doubtless soon, but for our intervention, raise higher; thus shall G.o.d's holy religion and the n.o.bility of France obtain revenge and triumph at our hands."

There were murmurs of applause, repressed exclamations of "_Vive le roi!_" and other signs of intense enthusiasm.

"Then, messieurs, he whose arm shall have struck this glorious blow, shall hasten back to the carriage, and it shall be driven at once to my lodgings in the Rue St. Honore, which, though not large enough for such meetings as this, will serve as a hiding-place for the five gentlemen until news comes, from other sources than the chosen man himself, of the death of Necker. When such news comes, the four guards shall release the happy Instrument of the Brotherhood. Until such news comes, they shall guard him unremittingly; and, if it turn out that Necker still lives, the man who ought to have slain him shall die in his place, at the hands of the four. Thus are we a.s.sured against treason, weakness, or bungling, on the part of him whom G.o.d, in the guise of chance, shall elect to do our Brotherhood and France this service. Messieurs, each of you remembering that the red bean or a black one may fall to him, are you still agreed?"

The expressions of a.s.sent were as prompt and determined as before.

"Let us proceed at once to the drawing," said the leader.

"Pardon, brother," spoke up another. "It is so dark that, when we come to show what beans we have drawn, we shall hardly be able to distinguish the colors."

"Bring the candles, then, from the mantel to the table, and light them,"

said the leader.

d.i.c.k's heart underwent a sudden jump. Two men came straight for the fireplace. Accustomed, now, to the half darkness of the room, both descried his form vaguely, and at the same moment. "The devil! A spy!"

cried one. The other drew a pistol of his own, and instantly brought it to bear.

"One moment!" cried d.i.c.k, stepping forth. "I am an unintentional intruder. Rather, it was you that intruded upon me. I had sought shelter here from the rain, when I heard you coming. Foolishly, thinking this might be a refuge of thieves, I hid in the fireplace, hoping to remain unseen till you had gone."

The a.s.sembled men, all of whom had risen, looked at d.i.c.k and then at one another.

"I quite believe you, monsieur," said the speaker of the meeting, courteously, after some moments, "not only because it is my gift to perceive when a man is telling the truth, but also because a spy would be sure of discovery in such a hiding-place. Nevertheless, you have overheard everything that has been said here this afternoon."

"How could I avoid doing so?" said d.i.c.k.

"I do not say it was a fault on your part to overhear, monsieur," said the other, whose authority over his comrades was manifestly so complete that they left the present matter entirely to him, only waiting with silent attention to carry out what orders he might give. "But what you have heard, you would doubtless feel called upon, sooner or later, to reveal, unless you were entirely of the same mind with us."

Here he paused, but d.i.c.k said nothing, for d.i.c.k did not choose to risk certain death by admitting that he would feel so called upon. After a moment, during which the speaker seemed to read d.i.c.k's thoughts, he went on:

"You might give us an a.s.surance that you would remember nothing of what has pa.s.sed here, but how could we let you go, on that a.s.surance, monsieur? For, if you secretly meant to betray us, you would feel justified in giving that a.s.surance, for the sake of your life and of defeating our purpose. Or, you might give your word in all honesty, and yet at some future time feel justified in breaking it. You can plainly see, monsieur, that there is nothing for us to do but to kill you on the spot--"

d.i.c.k read the quiet resolution in the speaker's eyes, and the more impetuous determination in the eyes of the others; considered his unarmed condition and the utter impossibility of a rush through the line of stalwart forms that encircled him; and thought of Amaryllis, the seven years, and the long and brilliant future that seemed about to burst like a soap-bubble in a moment.

"Or to receive you as a member of our Brotherhood," concluded the leader, calmly. Used to judging men instantly, he had doubtless estimated d.i.c.k as a gentleman worthy of membership.

Forgetting for the moment what this alternative entailed, seeing only the unexpected chance of life held out, d.i.c.k instantly grasped at the latter. "Very well, I will join," he said.

But the matter had to be thoroughly considered by the a.s.sembly, and there was a careful discussion of it for half an hour, while d.i.c.k sat silent before the table, on which, in the meantime, candles had been placed and lighted. During this talk, he began to realize all that he was taking on himself in joining what was neither more nor less than a secret society, whose present purpose was a.s.sa.s.sination. But a man with his life in his hand must seize the first means of gaining time that offers, and face each consequence when it occurs. The chances were in favor of his having nothing to do with the sanguinary affair to be immediately attempted; and he could probably give the Brotherhood the slip in the near future. In any case, it was impossible to prevent the attempt now under way, and the question as to whether he should eventually expose that attempt, was a river not to be crossed till he should come to it. Perhaps, after all, this Necker, whose name he knew only as that of Councillor of Finance and General Director of the Royal Treasury, was a rascal who merited death, as many public officials did; certainly the Brotherhood showed a humane disposition in considering an alternative by which d.i.c.k's life might be saved. Perhaps the removal of their chosen victim, even by death, would benefit humanity,--so little was d.i.c.k acquainted with matters of state.

Well, it was decided to admit him. He had to repeat a long oath after the leader, kiss one of the swords, which, having been blessed, served in place of a Bible, and sign his name at the foot of a list that the secretary produced from a leather bag, which that officer carried to and from the meetings, and which contained materials for what few records the society required.

"And now," said the leader, "it is growing late. The carriage will be at the gate at any moment. Let us draw for the honor that G.o.d holds ready for one of us."