'Take some wine; you are heated with your long ride,' said the Count, filling out a large goblet, while he motioned to Gerald to be seated.

'Nay, sir; it is not of _me_ there is time to think now. Pray, let me have your answer to my message, for Monsieur told me, if I either failed to find you, or from any casualty you were unable to repair to St.

Cloud, that I should come back with all speed to apprise him, my not returning being the sign that all went well.'

'All went well,' muttered Mirabeau to himself. 'How could it go worse?'

Gerald sat gazing in wonderment at the ma.s.sive, stern features before him, calling up all that he could remember of their first meeting, and scarcely able, even yet to persuade himself that he had been the companion of that great Count de Mirabeau whose fame filled all France.

'In the event of my compliance, you were then to accompany me to St.

Cloud?' said the Count, in a tone of inquiry.

'Yes, sir; so I understood my orders.'

'There is mention in history of a certain Duc de Guise----'

He stopped short, and walked to and fro for some time in silence; then, turning abruptly around, he asked: 'How came it that you stood so high in Monsieur's confidence that he selected you for this mission?'

'By mere accident,' said Gerald, and he recounted how the incident had occurred.

'And your horse--what has become of him?' asked the Count.

'He is fastened to the ring of the large _porte cochere_--the third house from this.'

Mirabeau leaned out of the window as if to satisfy himself that this statement was true.

'Supposing, then, that I agree to your request, what means have you to convey me to St. Cloud?--what preparations are made?'

'None, sir. There was no time for preparation. It was, as I have told you, late last night when Monsieur gave me this order. It was in the briefest of words.'

'"Tell Monsieur de Mirabeau that his Majesty would speak with him,"'

said the Count, suggesting to Gerald's memory the tenor of his message.

'No, sir. "Tell Monsieur de Mirabeau to hasten to St. Cloud, where I will meet him."'

'How did you become a n.o.ble guard?' asked he quickly. 'They say abroad that the difficulties to admission are great?'

'I owe my admission to the favour of Madame de Bauflremont, sir.'

'A great patron, none more so. She would have befriended me once,' added he, with an insolent sneer, 'but that my ugliness displeased the Queen.

Since that time, however, her Majesty has condescended to accustom herself to these harsh features, and even smiles benignly on them. There is little time to criticise the visage of your pilot, while the breakers are before and the rocks beside you. I will go, Gerald. Give me that ring.'

Gerald hesitated for a second; the Prince had not bestowed the ring on him, but only confided it to his care.

'I will not compromise you, young man,' said Mirabeau gravely: 'I will simply enclose that ring in a letter which you shall see, when I have written it,' and he immediately sat down to a table, and in a rapid hand dashed off some lines, which he threw across to Gerald to read. They ran thus:

'Dear Friend and Nephew,--I am summoned to a meeting at St. Cloud, by the owner of the ring which I enclose. If I do not return to Paris by noon on Sat.u.r.day, it is because ill has befallen yours,

'Gabriel Riquetti, Count de Mirabeau.

'To Mons. du Saillant, Rue d'Ascour, 170. 'Friday, 3 a.m,'

'There is the ring,' said Gerald, as he took it from his finger.

Mirabeau sealed the note, enclosing it in a strong envelope, and placing it on the table among other letters, ready sealed and addressed.

'You will carry this letter to its address, Gerald, and you will remain there till--till my return.'

'I understand,' said Gerald; 'I am a hostage.'

'_You_ a hostage for _me_!' cried the other haughtily. 'Do you fancy, young man, that the whole corps you belong to could requite the loss of Gabriel Riquetti? Would the Court--would the a.s.sembly--would France accept such a price? Go, sir, and tell Monsieur du Saillant that if any evil befall his uncle, he is to make use of you as the clue to trace it, and be sure that you discharge this trust well.'

'And if I refuse this mission?'

'If you refuse, you shall bear back to Monseigneur the reasons for which I have not obeyed his commands,' said Mirabeau coldly. 'Methought you remembered me better. I had fancied you knew me as one who had such confidence in himself, that he believed his own counsels the wisest, and who never turned from them. There is the letter--yes or no?'

'Yes--I will take it.'

'I will, with your leave, avail myself of your horse till I pa.s.s the barrier. You can meanwhile take some rest here. You will be early enough with Du Saillant by eight o'clock,' and with this the Count withdrew into a room adjoining to complete his preparations for the road. While thus occupied, he left the door partly open, and continued to converse with Gerald, asking him various questions as to what had befallen him after having quitted the Tana, and eagerly entering into the strange vicissitudes of his life as a stroller.

'I met your poet, I think it was at Milan. We were rivals at the time, and I the victor. A double insult to him, since he hated France and Frenchmen,' said the Count carelessly. 'There was a story of his having cut the fingers of his right hand to the bone with a razor, to prevent his a.s.sa.s.sinating me. What strange stuff your men of imagination are made of--ordinary good sense had reserved the razor for the enemy!'

'His is a great and n.o.ble nature,' exclaimed Gerald enthusiastically.

'So much the better, then, is it exercised upon fiction: real events and real men are sore tests to such temperaments. There, I am ready now; one gla.s.s to our next meeting, and good-bye.'

With a hearty shake-hands they parted, and as Gerald looked from the window, he saw the Count ride slowly down the street. Closing the window, he threw himself upon a couch and slept soundly.

CHAPTER IV. A SALON UNDER THE MONARCHY

Long after the events which heralded the great Revolution in France had a.s.sumed proportions of ominous magnitude, after even great reverses to the cause of monarchy, the n.o.bles, whether from motives of hardihood or from downright ignorance of the peril, continued to display in their equipages, their mode of living, and their costly retinues, an amount of splendour terribly in contrast with the privations of the people.

Many of the old families deemed it a point of honour to abate nothing of the haughty pretensions they had exhibited for centuries; and treating the widespread discontent as a mere pa.s.sing irritation, they scoffed at the fears of those who would regard it as of any moment. Indeed, to their eyes, the only danger lay in the weak, submissive policy of the court--a line of action based on the gentle and tender qualities of the king's own nature, which made him prefer an injury to his own influence, to even the slightest attack on those who a.s.sailed him. Truthfully or not, it is somewhat hard to say, a certain section of the n.o.bles a.s.serted that the Queen was very differently minded; that she not only took a just measure of the difficulty, but saw how it was to be met and combated. Far from any paltering with the men of the movement, it was alleged that she would at once have counselled force, and, throwing the weight of the royal cause upon the loyalty of the army, have risked the issue without a fear. Around Marie Antoinette were, therefore, grouped those who took the highest ground in the cause of monarchy, and who resisted almost the bare thought of what savoured of compromise or concession.

Among those who were conspicuous for adherence to these opinions, was the Marquise de Bauffremont. To high rank, a large fortune, no inconsiderable share of court favour, she added a pa.s.sion for everything like political intrigue. She was one of a school--of which some disciples have been seen in our own day--who deem that there are questions of statecraft too fine and too delicate for the rough handling of men, and where the finer touch of woman is essentially needed. So far as matters of policy are moulded by the tempers of those who treat them, and so far as it is of moment to appreciate finer traits of character--to trace their origin, their leanings and their sympathies--there is no doubt that the quicker and more subtle instincts of a woman have an immense advantage over the less painstaking and less minute habits of a manly mind. If the Marquise did not inaugurate this school, she gave a great development to its principles, and, a.s.suredly, she practised her art at a period when its resources were to be submitted to the severest of all tests. Her s.p.a.cious 'hotel' in the Place Louis Quinze was the centre of all those who a.s.sumed to be the last bulwark of the monarchy, and there might be found the Rochejaquelins, the Noailles, the Tavannes, the Valmys, and a host of others not less distinguished, while the ministers and envoys of various foreign courts resorted to these salons as the most authentic source of news to be transmitted to their governments. Partly from predilection, partly from that policy which affected to despise popular dictation, these receptions were conducted with considerable display and ostentation, and all that costly luxury and expense could impart lent its aid to give them an air of almost princely state. For a while there was a pretence of treating the pa.s.sing events as incidents too slight and too vulgar for notice, but after a time this affectation gave way to another scarcely less absurd: of alluding to them in a tone of scoff and derision, ridiculing those who were their chief actors, and actually making them subjects of witty pasquinade and caricature. As each new actor on the popular scene appeared, he was certain to be the mark of their insulting comments; and traits of low origin, and vulgarity of manner, were dwelt on with a significance that showed how contemptuously they regarded all whose condition was beneath their own. How little did they suspect, as they mocked Rabaut St. Etienne, Petion, and Robespierre, that this 'ill-dressed and ill-mannered crew'--these 'noisy screamers of vapid nonsense'--these 'men of sinister aspect and ign.o.ble look,' would one day become the scourge of their order, and the masters of France! So far was this thought from all their speculation, that their indignation knew no bounds in discussing those who admitted this _canaille_ to anything like consideration; and thus the Bishop of Autun and Lafayette were the constant subjects of sarcasm and attack.

'What do they want, Madame la Marquise!' exclaimed the old Marquis de Ribaupierre, as he stood, one evening, the centre of a group eagerly discussing the views and objects of these innovators. 'I ask, what do they want? It cannot be the destruction of the _n.o.blesse_, for they are n.o.ble. It cannot be the extinction of property, for they are rich. It cannot be--surely it cannot be--that they believe the monarchy would be more faithfully guarded by a rabble than by the best chivalry of France.

If Monseigneur Maurice Talleyrand were here now, I would simply ask him----'

The door opened as he uttered these words, and a servant, in a loud voice, announced, 'Monseigneur the Bishop of Autun.'

Small of stature and lame, there was yet in the ma.s.sive head, the broad full brow, and the large orbits of the eyes, a certain command and dignity that marked him for no ordinary man; and, though the suddenness of his entrance at this moment had created a sensation, half painful, half ludicrous, there was a calm self-possession in his manner, as he advanced to kiss the hand of the Marquise, that quickly changed the feeling for one of deference and respect.

'I was fortunate enough to be the subject of discussion as I came into the room--will my esteemed friend the Marquis de Ribaupierre inform me to what I owe this honour?'

'Rather let me become the interpreter,' broke in the Marquise, who saw the speechless misery that now covered the old Marquis's countenance.