"Oliver at first gave himself up with joy to this hope; but soon he again asked, with a shade of suspicion in his voice, 'You will not make me any promises--are you thinking, then, of forsaking me?'

"'Not at all, Oliver; and moreover, here is what I propose. We shall remain in this charming retreat until you are completely recovered, then we shall join the army, and enroll in the same regiment.' And in answer to a gesture of stupefaction from Oliver, I added, 'Shall I, do you imagine, be the first woman who shares the perils of our soldiers, with her secret locked under her uniform? I wish to see you rise from rank to rank. Then will come the day, perhaps soon, when some brilliant deed will raise you to the height I dream of for you, and to our common hope. Now, Oliver, choose between suicide and the glorious future I present to you.'"

"All is now explained, worthy and great-hearted sister," exclaimed John Lebrenn.

"I am now happy to note that my influence over Oliver diminishes daily.

His warlike ardor, the intoxication of his early successes, the activity of camp life--all, according to my calculation, have combined to overcome his pa.s.sion. I foresaw that love would be fleeting in that warlike soul, I sought above all to s.n.a.t.c.h him from suicide, from failure. I wished by a vague hope to rekindle his dying courage, initiate him into the career of arms, which his nature called him to, and by watching over him like a mother and sharing his soldier's life, to preserve him from the pitfalls that destroy so many young men. I wished, in fine, to affirm him in the path of justice and virtue, to develop his civic character, and to render still more fervent his love for the fatherland and the Republic. Then, this self-imposed duty once fulfilled, I reserve the means of casting Oliver upon the destiny which the future seems to hold for him. Such was my project. In part it is realized. The young man's pa.s.sion for war is now his only amour.

Accordingly, I will soon be able to leave him."

At this point in their conversation the brother and sister saw Jesuit Morlet and little Rodin file out of the Commune Hall, escorted by several soldiers. One of these carried a lantern. The artilleryman d.u.c.h.emin brought up the rear.

"Hey, comrade!" called John Lebrenn to the quartermaster, as he approached him, while Victoria remained behind, "I have something to ask you."

"Speak, citizen."

"Do you know what they have decided about this doubly-dangerous spy, this minion of the Society of Jesus?"

"According to what I just heard, the black-cap will be shot to-morrow morning. They are taking him to the quarters of the Grand Provost of the army, who has charge of the execution; and as my battery is established near the Provost's quarters, I am acting as conduct to the agent of Pitt and Coburg."

One of Hoche's aides-de-camp now stepped precipitately out of the Commune Hall, hastened across the court, and ran in the direction of the General's quarters. A company of grenadiers stationed there at once caught up their arms and fell in line, drum at the right, officers at the head, and soon the four Representatives of the people, St. Just and Lebas, commissioners in extraordinary from the Convention to Strasburg, and Lacoste and Randon, commissioners to the Army of the Rhine and Moselle, descended the steps of the Commune Hall, preceded by several officers furnished with lanterns, and followed by Generals Hoche and Pichegru, and the superior officers of the divisions. The Representatives of the people wore hats, one side of which, turned up, was surmounted with a tricolor plume; their uniform coats were blue, with large unbroidered lapels, and crossed with a scarf in the national colors; over their trousers, which were blue like their coats, they had on heavy spurred boots, and cavalry sabers hung by their sides. St. Just walked before the others. He was of almost the same age as Hoche, about twenty-four. The two conversed in low tones, some steps ahead of the other Generals and Representatives. The features and att.i.tudes of Hoche and St. Just, as revealed by the light of the lanterns, contrasted sharply. The republican General, of robust stature and with a bluff countenance, intelligent and resolute, which a glorious scar rendered all the more martial, displayed an insistence almost supplicating, as he addressed St. Just. The latter, of only medium height, with a high and proud forehead, accorded to the pleadings of Hoche a silent attention.

His pale and firm-set features, set off by his long straight hair, gave to the man an air of sculptured impa.s.sivity. His life, his feeling, seemed concentrated in his burning glances.

"Brother, do you remark Oliver's countenance?" said Victoria. "Pride possesses it. He seems to regard as acts of servility the marks of respect shown by the officers to the Representatives of the people."

"Oliver's expression is indeed significant," replied John.

"Halloa! Courier of the Third Hussars!" one of the under-officers cried at that moment from the doorway, holding up a sealed packet. "To horse!

A despatch to carry to Sultz."

"Present!" called back Victoria; then she continued in a voice filled with emotion, as she held out her hand to John,

"Adieu, brother, till to-morrow. Perchance the order of battle or the fortunes of war will bring us near each other."

"I hope--and fear it, sister," answered John, his eyes moist with tears, lest this should be the last time he was to see Victoria. "You have shown yourself valiant, devoted and generous in your conduct towards Oliver. Till to-morrow."

"Adieu, brother!" And Victoria hastened to receive the despatch, while John returned to the bivouac of the Paris Volunteers.

The despatch which Victoria carried to Sultz had been written by Hoche that very evening, and addressed to Citizen Bouchotte, Minister of War.

It read:

Ingelsheim, 6th Nivose, year II, 1 A. M.

I hasten to inform you, Citizen Minister, that the Representatives of the people have just placed me in command of the two armies of the Rhine and Moselle, to march to the succor of Landau.

No prayer or pleading on my part could change the resolution of the Representatives of the people. Judge me. With nothing but courage, how will I be able to carry such a burden? Nevertheless, I shall do my best in the service of the Republic.

Greetings and brotherhood,

HOCHE.[15]

This letter of Hoche's, in which the great captain reveals the modesty that in him equalled his military genius, ill.u.s.trates also his anxieties on the score of the responsibility which had just fallen upon him--anxieties his n.o.ble and touching expression of which was unable to shake the will of St. Just.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

SERVING AND MIS-SERVING.

Jesuit Morlet and his G.o.d-son, little Rodin, had been taken in due course before the Provost, and the reverend fellow was now awaiting the hour of his execution, which was set for sun-up. The cord which bound his arms was fastened to a post of the cart-shed that served as shelter for the Grand Provost's mounted police; at the foot of the post the Jesuit lay huddled. Too case-hardened not to face death with a certain degree of calm, he said to his G.o.d-son:

"I have no chance of escaping death. I shall be shot at break of day.

Here ends my career."

"You will soon be with the angels," dryly responded little Rodin, who now seemed strangely to have recovered both speech and hearing.

"Poor little one! My beloved son, you are, are you not, very sad at my approaching death?"

"You are an elect of the Lord, predestined to glory, and you will sit at His right side through eternity. _Hosannah in excelsis!_ On the contrary, I rejoice in your martyrdom."

"So young, and already devoid of affection!" muttered the Jesuit to himself. "Are you not grieved at the idea of being left behind and forsaken by my death?"

"The Lord G.o.d will watch over His servant, as He watches over the birds of the air. He provides for all."

"Listen, dear child; when G.o.d has called me to Him, go you to Rome, to the General of the Order. G.o.d will perform the rest."

"I shall go to Rome; your recommendations will be precisely followed, dear G.o.d-father; I shall serve the holy cause of G.o.d."

As little Rodin concluded these words, a courier came up and said to the cavalryman on picket duty before the Jesuit and his G.o.d-son: "Comrade, can you show me to the quarters of Citizen General Donadieu? I have a message for him."

"You haven't far to go. Pa.s.s through the shed, turn to the right, and you will see another cavalry picket before the door of a house. There is where General Donadieu is quartered," replied the sentry, while the courier vanished in the direction indicated.

"Good G.o.d-father, General Donadieu is attached to this army! Good news for us!"

"But, dear G.o.d-son, how will the presence of this general serve us any?"

"Good G.o.d-father," replied young Rodin in a whisper, "if you wish it, you need not go to-day to visit the angels of the Lord. Think and decide whether you would rather go. I am here to obey you."

With a nod the Jesuit approved the advice of his G.o.d-son, and beckoning to the cavalryman, who approached them, he said: "Hey, sentry! Is it indeed decided that I be shot at daybreak?"

"In the shake of a lamb's tail. You won't have long to wait."

"Well, well! Since it must be so, I have decided to make revelations--very important ones."

"I shall call the brigadier and he will take you before the Provost."

"No, no. It is to a general that I wish to make my revelations. Let your chiefs know without delay."