"News of him!" exclaimed Coursegol, joyfully. "Ah! Monseigneur, where is he? How is he?"

"Are you anxious to know?" inquired the duke.

"Your highness shall judge."

And Coursegol briefly recounted the events that had separated him from Philip, and told the duke how Dolores and himself had come to Paris in the hope of finding him. His recital must have been both eloquent and pathetic, for when it was concluded tears stood in the eyes of the listeners.

"Ah! What anxiety the young girl must have suffered!" exclaimed the prince; "but I can rea.s.sure her. Yes; I recently received a letter from the Marquis de Chamondrin. It shall be given to you and you shall carry it to his sister. She will be indebted to me for a few hours of happiness. My dear Miromesnil," added the duke, addressing an old man who was standing near, "will you look in my correspondence of the month of October for a letter bearing the signature of Chamondrin? When you find it, give it to this worthy man."

Coursegol began to stammer out his thanks, but, without heeding them, the duke came still nearer and said, in a low voice:

"Does Mademoiselle de Chamondrin require aid of any sort?"

"No, monseigneur," replied Coursegol.

"Do not forget that I am ready to come to her a.s.sistance whenever it is necessary; and a.s.sure her of my sincere sympathy."

Having uttered these words, the kind-hearted prince pa.s.sed on, leaning upon the arm of a n.o.bleman connected with his household. Coursegol, elated by the certainty that Philip was alive, could scarcely restrain his impatience; but he waited for the promised letter, which would prove to Dolores that those she loved were still on earth. In a few moments M.

de Miromesnil returned. He held the precious letter in his hand and gave it to Coursegol, who hastily perused it. It was dated in London, and had been addressed to the duke soon after the death of Madame de Lamballe.

It contained no allusion to Mademoiselle de Mirandol, and Philip said but little about himself; still was it not an unspeakable relief to him to feel that he was alive and to know in what country he was sojourning.

Eager to place this letter in the hands of Dolores, Coursegol started for home immediately; but, instead of returning as he came, he took pa.s.sage in the diligence that plied between Rouen and Paris; and that same evening, after so many months of dreary waiting, he was able to relieve the anxiety that Dolores had felt regarding her brother's fate.

The girl's joy was intense, and she devoutly thanked G.o.d who had revived her faith and hope just as she was beginning to despair. If Coursegol had listened to her, they would have started for London without delay, so eager was she to rejoin Philip and Antoinette whom she supposed married. But Coursegol convinced her of the absolute impossibility of this journey. They could reach the sea only by pa.s.sing through the greatest dangers.

"Besides," added Coursegol, "what does this letter prove? That M. Philip is safe and well, of course; but it does not prove that he is still in London."

"Coursegol is right!" remarked Bridoul. "Before you think of starting, you must write to M. Philip."

"But can letters pa.s.s the frontier more easily than persons?" asked Dolores.

"Oh, I will take care of all that. If you wish to write, I know a gentleman who is going to England and who will take charge of your letter."

"Then I will write," said Dolores, with a sigh. "I would have preferred to go myself, but since that is impossible----"

She paused, resolved to wait in patience.

Coursegol breathed freely again. He feared she would persist in her determination to go, and that he would be obliged to tell her that their resources were nearly exhausted and would not suffice to meet the costs of such a long and difficult journey, every step of which would demand a lavish expenditure of money.

Since the destruction of Chamondrin, Dolores had been entirely dependent upon Coursegol's bounty. The latter had possessed quite a snug little fortune, inherited from his parents; but a sojourn of fifteen months at Beaucaire and more than a year's income expended on the journey to Paris had made great inroads in his little capital. Fortunately, on arriving in Paris, the generous hospitality of the Bridouls had spared him the necessity of drawing upon the remnant of his fortune. This amounted now to about twelve hundred francs. Still, he felt that he could not remain much longer under the roof of these worthy people without trespa.s.sing upon their kindness and generosity, for they firmly refused to accept any remuneration; and Coursegol was anxiously wondering how he could support Dolores when this money was exhausted. He confided his anxiety to Bridoul; but the latter, instead of sharing it, showed him that such a sum was equivalent to a fortune in times like those.

"Twelve hundred francs!" said he. "Why that is more than enough for the establishment of a lucrative business or for speculation in a.s.signats which, with prudence, would yield you a fortune."

It was good advice. Gold and silver were becoming scarce; and a.s.signats were subject to daily fluctuations that afforded one an excellent opportunity to realize handsome profits, if one had a little money on hand and knew how to employ it to advantage.

CHAPTER VII.

CITIZEN JEAN VAUQUELAS.

In April, 1793, about eight months after his arrival in Paris, Coursegol went one evening to the Palais egalite. The establishment, which had formerly been known as the Palais Royal, had at that epoch a splendor and an importance of which its present appearance gives but a faint conception. One should read in the journals of those days the description of the galleries ever filled with an eager, bustling throng attracted by the excitement and the unwholesome amus.e.m.e.nts always to be found there. Mercier, in sharp, almost indignant language, gives us a vivid picture of the famous resort. Gambling-dens, dance-halls, shops devoted to the sale of the most reckless and infamous productions, restaurants and wine-shops were to be seen on every side. The spirit of speculation and gambling raged with inconceivable violence. Vice sat enthroned there, and when evening came the immense establishment was densely crowded by a throng of people thirsting for pleasure, and circling round and round in the brilliantly-lighted galleries to the sound of the violins that mounted to the ears of the promenaders from the dance-halls in the bas.e.m.e.nt below.

Coursegol frequently visited the Palais egalite. At the instance of Bridoul he had speculated a little in a.s.signats which were constantly fluctuating in value. It was the only negotiation in which Coursegol would consent to embark. He might have trafficked in the estates of the emigres which the Republic was selling at a merely nominal price; but he had no desire to become the owner of what he considered stolen property.

After a few evenings spent in the Palais egalite, Coursegol became acquainted with most of the brokers who transacted business there. They were stout, well-fed, jovial men, whose self-satisfied and flourishing appearance seemed a stinging irony hurled in the face of the poor wretches who were perishing of hunger in the Faubourgs of Paris. They could be seen rushing about the garden and through the galleries, giving orders to their subordinates whose duty it was to find new clients, and to allure unsophisticated provincials, that they might rob them of their money to cast it into the gulf in which the fortunes of so many had been swallowed up.

These unprincipled persons resorted to the basest means to dupe those who trusted them. They called wine and reckless women to their aid, and thus disarmed the unsuspecting men who came to the money market with the hope of doubling their capital. In the Palais egalite, conspiracies were formed not only against the Republic but against the fortunes, the place, and even the lives of its citizens. Still even the dread Committee of Public Safety were powerless to discover the formidable enemies that concealed themselves there. That Coursegol was not irretrievably lost the instant he crossed the threshold of this mysterious and dangerous cavern was due entirely to Bridoul, who had volunteered to act as his guide and protector. Bridoul possessed a very considerable amount of influence. He presented his comrade to some of the fortunate speculators, and recommended him to them to such purpose that several of them took Coursegol under their protection.

Quick-witted, endowed with remarkable energy and tact, and inspired by an ardent desire to acquire wealth for the sake of Dolores, he rendered them important services on more than one occasion by lending his obscure and modest name to conceal operations in which a well-known personage could not have embarked without peril.

Coursegol was only a peasant; but he had served in the army a long time, and contact with others had sharpened his wits, while the excellent judgment of his old master, the Marquis de Chamondrin, had not failed to exert a most beneficial effect upon his intellectual development. Hence, though it was not without hesitation that he entered upon a career so entirely new to him, he at least brought with him not only honesty, prudence and tact, but a coolness which could not but contribute notably to his success in those perturbed times.

On the evening to which we have alluded he went to the Palais egalite as usual. It was after nightfall, and the restaurants were filled to overflowing with crowds of excited people glad to forget in the distractions of play, of speculation and of good cheer the woes of the country and their own degradation. Some were eagerly buying tickets that would ent.i.tle them to seats in the Theatre de la Republique, only a hundred paces distant; others were buying the daily papers. Some were promenading with that careless gayety that never deserts the French even in their darkest days, while they insolently eyed the shameless women, who, with bold gaze and naked shoulders, stood there endeavoring to attract the attention of the pa.s.sers-by. Others rushed to the gambling saloons, already dreaming of the stroke of good fortune that would enlarge the rolls of a.s.signats with which their pockets were filled.

Some promenaders approached each other with mysterious proposals, and afterwards repaired to the garden where they could converse undisturbed.

It was there that many confidential interviews were held, it was there that the most diverse hopes had birth; it was there that the Royalists, the friends and the relatives of the emigres or of suspected persons incarcerated in prison plotted for the return of the Bourbons or for the deliverance of the poor wretches whose lives hung upon a thread. There, too, the spies in the employ of the Committee of Public Safety, or of the Commune, flitted about, trying to discover any secret that might be hostile to the Republic. Sometimes gloomy visaged men or women with pale and anxious looks were seen hurrying through the crowd; some man who had been vainly seeking bread for his children; some woman whose husband was in the Luxembourg or in the Abbaye prisons, awaiting the dread fiat of the Revolutionary Tribunal.

These livid and despairing faces were the only blemishes upon the exuberant gayety that prevailed; but no one saw them and the poor wretches disappeared without exciting either anger or pity.

The eyes of Coursegol were accustomed to this spectacle, so he walked coolly through the galleries heedless of the tumult around him and paused only when he met a group of acquaintances who were discussing the news of the day. Suddenly some one tapped him on the shoulder. He turned.

"Is that you, Citizen Vauquelas?"

"I wish to speak to you, Coursegol."

At the same time the man who had just interrupted Coursegol's promenade took him by the arm and led him toward the garden. He was clad in black and enveloped in a large cloak that would have made him look like a priest had it not been for the high hat, ornamented with the national c.o.c.kade, which proved him a patriot of the middle cla.s.s. His thin, emaciated face, deeply furrowed with wrinkles indicated that he had long since pa.s.sed his sixtieth birthday; but there was nothing else in his appearance that betokened old age. His form was so erect, his eye so clear, his step so firm, that one, not seeing his face, would have thought him still in the prime of life.

On entering the garden, Vauquelas glanced around, but, seeing no place which he deemed sufficiently retired, he seemed to change his plan.

"I fear that these trees have ears," said he, "and what I wish to say to you must not be overheard."

And without saying more, he led the way to the Cafe Corazza. They entered it. The saloon was filled with people, eating and drinking while they read the papers or indulged in heated political discussions. One man had mounted a table and was delivering a long discourse. He was endeavoring to convince his listeners that France was being betrayed by the secret agents sent to Paris by the emigres. His was no new theme; buy the orator displayed so much energy that his audience was polite enough to seem pleased with his efforts. Vauquelas, who appeared to be perfectly at home, crossed the room to whisper a word in the ear of the man who was standing at the cashier's desk. This man, who proved to be the proprietor of the establishment, at once conducted Vauquelas to a private room. Coursegol followed, and, the proprietor having taken his departure, the two men found themselves alone.

"I have been contemplating the proposition I am about to make you for several months," Vauquelas then began. "The very first time I saw you, I made up my mind that you were the man to aid me in the projects I had long since formed, but which had not been carried into execution for want of an a.s.sistant in whom I could implicitly confide. But before I trusted you with my plans, I wished to know you; so I have studied you closely while you were unconscious of my scrutiny. I have admired the prudence you have displayed in all your business transactions. You suit me; and if you see fit to accede to the proposition I am about to offer for your consideration, our fortunes are made."

"I am listening, Citizen Vauquelas," replied Coursegol, "but I may as well tell you that it will be useless to confide your plans to me if they are not perfectly honest."

"You shall judge," rejoined Vauquelas, not appearing in the least wounded by Coursegol's remark. "Last month the Republic pa.s.sed a decree against the emigres, ordering the confiscation of their property for the benefit of the nation. This measure has been carried into execution, and the government is now the possessor of a large amount of such property.

These lands will be sold at public auction, and will fall into all sorts of hands. They will be divided and parceled out, and the rightful owners when they return to France will have no power to take possession of the property that once belonged to them. Very well--now I have wondered if the purchase of a portion of this property would not be both profitable and a praiseworthy action."

"And why?" inquired Coursegol, who had been listening attentively.

"The reason is plain," replied Vauquelas. "Will it not be for the interest of the exiled owners that their estates should be bought on the most favorable possible terms, and properly cared for. The brigands who are now in power will fall some day; and then the emigres will return.

Will they not be glad to find their property in good and careful hands, and to be able to regain possession of it by paying the trifling sum which the government received for it?"

Coursegol did not reply at once, he was reflecting.

"The transactions would be honest enough," he said at last; "but if you purchase the lands of the government to-day and sell them later to their owners at the same price you paid for them, where would your profit come in?"