"Well, well! Forsooth, it is I, Castillon, your old foreman, who taught you how to handle a file and hammer a piece of iron, when you were our apprentice."

"Give you good day, my dear sir, give you good day," retorted Oliver haughtily and impatiently; and continuing his conversation with Lebrenn: "And what chance brings you to Paris? Tell me about it."

But Castillon touched Oliver on the arm before he had time to get an answer, and said: "Say, my boy, have you truly become, to all intents and purposes, an aristocrat, since you belong to the staff of General Bonaparte, as d.u.c.h.emin says, our old comrade of the Lines of Weissenburg, here, whom you don't seem to recognize either?"

"Hush, my old fellow," said d.u.c.h.emin in Castillon's ear, "else he will have the commandant of Paris toss me into the headquarters of police, and then we won't be able to go to St. Antoine."

After a moment's silence, Colonel Oliver spoke, with difficulty holding himself in: "I would reply to Monsieur Castillon, that if I was his apprentice, it is nothing to blush for. He should understand that my age and the rank I owe to my sword render inappropriate the pleasantries permissible when I was eighteen."

"Pardon, excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis!" rejoined Castillon, not a whit put down by Oliver's manner. "Ah, that's how the staff of General Bonaparte comports itself!"

"As to you, who are still in the service," continued Colonel Oliver rudely to d.u.c.h.emin, "do not forget that we put the insolent in cells, and shoot the unruly."

"I said nothing, Colonel," replied d.u.c.h.emin quietly.

"Shut your mouth, hang-dog, and go to the devil!"

"Yes, hold your peace, old comrade, and make yourself scarce, since you have but the choice between a cell and the shooting squad," Castillon advised d.u.c.h.emin; and then he turned on Oliver: "As to me, who, as a private citizen have hanging over me the shadow of neither, nor yet the awe of gold epaulets, I tell you this, Oliver, son of the people, a poor orphan, put on your feet by the goodness of our friend John--you contemn your brothers. A soldier of the Republic, you conspire against her.

You're an ingrate and a traitor! But the day of remorse will come."

"Do not provoke me, wretch, or----" cried Colonel Oliver.

Castillon and d.u.c.h.emin turned on their heels and went out, Martin accompanying them to the outer door, as Lebrenn had requested that he be left alone a few minutes with the colonel. The latter hung his head and maintained an embarra.s.sed silence.

"Castillon's reproaches seem to have made some impression on you, Oliver," Lebrenn began, at last.

"Not at all; such insolence does not trouble me. But let us forget the wretches, and speak of you and your family, my dear Lebrenn."

"Let us speak rather of you, Oliver; let us speak also of my sister, whose memory should be sacred to you. Her forebodings of your future are realized; I fear her devotion to you has gone for naught."

"In what may my conduct justify your criticism? Has not my sword been ever at the service of the Republic?"

"At the service of your ambition! And at the present moment you seem to be in a mind to sacrifice the Republic."

Oliver responded with a start: "I firmly believe that France has need of order, repose, stability, and a firm hand. I believe that authority should be concentrated in the greatest captain of modern times."

"And what are your Bonaparte's t.i.tles--for you doubtless mean him--to the government of France?"

"His victories!"

"But is not the military glory of Hoche, Marceau, Joubert, Ma.s.sena, Moreau, Kleber, Augereau, Bernadotte, Desaix, equal to that of your general? And even if he were the greatest captain the world has ever seen, it does not follow that he should be given the dictatorship. A nation should never place its destinies in the hands of one man and confide to him that exorbitant power, which smites with vertigo even the hardest heads."

At this juncture Martin returned, and by a look inquired of his friend the result of his interview with the colonel. Lebrenn shook his head in the negative. Martin then addressed the officer:

"I would have excused myself, citizen, for my absence just now, had I not left you in the company of our comrade John. Now I am at your service. Let us discuss the battle scene you wish to give me the commission for. Some explanation will be requisite."

"It is a brilliant charge executed by a squadron of my regiment against the Mamelukes of Hussein Bey. I can furnish you with a sketch of the field of battle made by one of my officers, and some notes I took on the feat of arms itself."

"Any such doc.u.ments would much facilitate my work, and I can, if you desire it, citizen, commence work in a month--provided," he added with a smile, "I am not in the meantime banished or shot."

"And why should either of those fates befall you, monsieur?"

"I am one of the Council of Five Hundred, and strongly resolved, like the majority of my colleagues, to defend the Republic and the Const.i.tution against all factions. But the defenders of the best cause may be defeated. In that case, your general, who seems to side with the conspirators, is capable, in the event of his triumph, of transporting the republican deputies to Cayenne, or having them shot on the plain of Grenelle."

"Monsieur, I have still to learn that the vanquisher of Lodi, Arcola, and the Pyramids is party to a conspiracy. But if he is conspiring, he has for accomplice the whole of France; and in that case the factious are those who attempt to oppose themselves to the national will."

Just then Duresnel, the young recruit of the Parisian battalion who served under Martin at Weissenburg was introduced into the studio. The colonel brusquely saluted the newcomer together with the two who were already present and left the apartment.

Duresnel looked at John Lebrenn several seconds, and then cried out:

"Eh! If I am not mistaken, I have the pleasure of meeting, at the house of a common friend, an old comrade of the Seventh Battalion of Volunteers?"

"A comrade who was a witness to your first feat of arms, Citizen Duresnel," rejoined Lebrenn cordially, "when after the charge of the German cuira.s.siers upon our battery, you and Castillon took the Grand Duke of Gerolstein prisoner."

CHAPTER III.

CROSS PURPOSES.

The same day as that on which occurred the scene just described, that is to say, the 17th Brumaire, year VIII (November 7, 1799), the following events took place at the home of Monsieur Hubert, banker and member of the Council of Ancients and uncle to Charlotte. This exponent of high finance had tenfold increased his fortune by his enterprises in furnishing supplies to the army, or, in other words, robbing the people and famishing the soldiers. In conference with the banker was the reverend Father Morlet; politics was on the carpet.

"My reverend sir," asked Hubert, "will you please to tell me why the Catholic and royalist party is taking no hand in political affairs? Do you not comprehend that in supporting the dictatorship of Bonaparte you deal the last blow to the Republic?"

"And who will profit thereby? Just clarify me on that point."

"He will, as a matter of course."

"Bonaparte's ambition is boundless," returned the Jesuit. "He is not ignorant that a monarchy which owes its restoration to a Monck has no more dire need than, as soon as it no longer needs his treasons, to rid itself of the traitor. It is thus more than probable that General Bonaparte prefers the role of a Cromwell, or a Caesar. In either of these two cases we Catholics and royalists must oppose him, for he would thus put off for a long time the return of the Old Regime. But as, after all, and in spite of its improbability, there is one chance in a thousand that he may be looking out for a restoration, we maintain for the present complete neutrality."

"Monsieur John Lebrenn asks to speak with you, sir," announced a valet.

"John Lebrenn in Paris!--Pray Monsieur Lebrenn to wait an instant!"

cried the banker to the valet, who at once left the room to execute his master's orders.

"My dear Monsieur Hubert, I am not at all anxious for a meeting with that red-cap Jacobin, and for reasons of a particular nature," said the Jesuit.

"Step into my cabinet. Thence you can descend by the little staircase."

"In case of unforeseen developments, write me, or--you know----"

"Oh, I forgot to ask you about the Count of Plouernel."

"He is," replied the Jesuit, "at Vienna, with his wife, who has just presented him with a son, according to what the Count's brother, the Bishop _in partibus_, whom you know, has just written me."

"And your G.o.d-son, little Rodin?"