The remark was evidently made to change the current of our conversation; and so I accepted it,--listening to the chit-chat around me, which, from its novelty alone, possessed a most uncommon charm to my ears. It was so strange to hear the allusions to the courtiers and the beauties of bygone days made with all the freshness of yesterday acquaintance; and the stores of anecdotes about the court of Louis the Fifteenth and the Regency told with a piquancy that made the event seem like an occurrence of the morning.
Before we retired to the drawing-room for coffee, I saw that the "pension" was a Royalist establishment, and wondered how it happened that I should have been selected by the host to make one of his guests.
Yet unquestionably there seemed no reserve towards me; on the contrary, each evinced a tone of frankness and cordiality which made me perfectly at ease, and well satisfied at the fortune which led me to the Rue Mi-Careme.
The little parties of dominoes and piquet scattered through the _salon_; some formed groups to converse; the ladies resumed their embroidery; and all the occupations of indoor life were a.s.sumed with a readiness that betokened habit, and gave to the "pension" the comfortable air of a home.
Thus pa.s.sed the first evening. The next morning the party a.s.sembled at an early hour to breakfast; after which the gentlemen went out, and did not appear until dinnertime,--day succeeding day in unvarying but to me not unpleasing monotony. I rarely wandered from the large wilderness of a garden near the house, and saw weeks pa.s.s over without a thought ever occurring to me that life must not thus be suffered to ebb.
CHAPTER XXIX. MY NAMESAKE
About a month after I came to live in the "pension," I was sitting one evening at the window, watching, with the interest an idle man will ever attach to slight things,--the budding leaves of an early spring,--when I heard a step approach my chair, and on turning my head perceived Madame de Langeac. She carried her taboret in her hand, and came slowly towards me.
"I am come to steal some of your sunshine, Monsieur Burke," said the old lady, smiling good-naturedly, as I rose to present a chair, "but not to drive you away, if you will be generous enough to keep me company."
I stammered out some commonplace civility in reply, and was silent, for my thoughts were bent upon my future, and I was ill disposed to interruption.
"You are fond of flowers, I have remarked," continued she, as if perceiving my preoccupation, and willing to relieve it by taking the burden of the conversation. "And it is a taste I love to witness; it seems to me like the evidence of a homely habit. It is only in childhood we learn this love; we may cultivate it in after life as we will."
"My mother was pa.s.sionately fond of them," said I, calling up a long-buried memory of home and kindred.
"I thought so. These simple tastes are the inheritance a mother gives her child; and happily they survive every change of fortune."
I sighed heavily as she spoke, for thus accidentally was touched the weakest chord of my heart.
"And, better still," resumed she, "they are the links that unite us to the past, that bind the heart of manhood to infancy, that can bring down pride and haughtiness, and call forth guileless affection and childlike faith."
"They are happy,"" said I, musing, "who can mingle such early memories with the present."
"And who cannot?" interrupted she, rapidly. "Who has not felt the love of parents,--the halo of a home? Old as I am, even I can recall the little walks I trod in infancy, and the hand that used to guide me. I can bring up the very tones of that voice which vibrated on my heart as they spoke my name. But how much happier they to whom these memories are linked with tokens of present affection, and who, in their manhood"s joys, can feel a father"s or a mother"s love!"
"I was left an orphan when a mere child," said I, as though the observation had been specially addressed to me.
"But you have brothers,--sisters, perhaps."
I shook my head. "A brother, indeed; but we have never met since we were children."
"And yet your country has not suffered the dreadful convulsion of ours; no social wreck has scattered those who once lived in close affection together. It is sad when such ties are broken. You came early to France, I think you told me?"
"Yes, Madame. When a mere child my heart conceived a kind of devotion to the Emperor: his fame, his great exploits, seemed something more than human,--filled every thought of my brain; and to be a soldier,_his_ soldier, was the limit of my ambition. I fancied, too, that the cause he a.s.serted was that of freedom; that liberty, universal liberty, was the watchword that led to victory."
"And you have discovered your error," interrupted she. "Alas! it were better to have followed the illusion. A faith once shaken leaves an unsettled spirit, and with such there is little energy."
"And less of hope," said I, despondingly.
"Not so, if there be youth. Come, you must tell me your story. It is from no mere curiosity I ask you; but that I have seen much of the world, and am better able than you to offer counsel and advice. I have remarked, for some time past, that you appear to have no acquaintance in Paris,--no friend. Let me be such. If the confidence have no other result, it will relieve your heart of some portion of its burden; besides, the others here will learn to regard you with less distrust."
"And is such their feeling towards me?"
"Forgive me; I did not exactly use the word I sought for. But now that I have ventured so far, I may as well confess that you are an object of the greatest interest in their eyes; nor can they divest themselves of the impression that some deep-laid plot had led you hither."
"Had I known this before--"
"You had left us. I guessed as much: I have remarked it in your character already, that a morbid dread of being suspected is ever uppermost in your thoughts; and accounted for it by supposing that you might have been thrown at too early an age into life. But you must not feel angry with us here. As for me, I have no merit in my right appreciation of you: Monsieur Rubichon told me how you met,--a mere accident, at the bureau of the prefet."
"It was so; nor have I been able to divine why he addressed himself to me, nor what circ.u.mstance could have led him to believe my sentiments in accordance with those of his guests."
"Simple enough the reason. He heard from your own lips you were a stranger, without any acquaintance in Paris. The police for a time have been somewhat frequent in their visits here, when the exclusively Royalist feature of the "pension" excited some dissatisfaction. To overcome the impression, M. Rubichon determined to wait each day at the bureau of the prefet, and solicit at hazard among the persons there to patronize his house. We all here consented to the plan, feeling its necessity. Our good fortune sent us you. Still, you must not be surprised if long sorrows and much suffering have engendered suspicion, nor that the old followers of a king look distrustfully on the soldier of"--she hesitated and blushed slightly, then added, in a low voice--"of the Emperor."
The word seemed to have cost a pang in its utterance; for she did not speak for several minutes after.
"And these gentlemen,--am I to conclude that they cherish disaffection to the present Government, or harbor a hope of its downfall?"
Whether some accidental expression of disdain escaped me as I said this, I cannot say; but Madame de Langeao quickly replied,--
"They are good Frenchmen, sir, and loyal gentlemen; what they _hope_ must be a matter for their own hearts."
"I entreat your pardon, Madame, if I have said one syllable which could reflect upon their motives."
"I forgive you readily," said she, smiling courteously; "he who has worn a sabre so long, may well deem its influence all-powerful. But believe me, young man, there is that within the heart of a nation against which mere force is nothing; opposed to it, armed squadrons and dense ranks are powerless. Devotion to a sovereign, whose claim comes hallowed by a long line of kings, is a faith to which religion lends its sanction and tradition its hope. Look on these very persons here; see, has adversity chilled their affection, or poverty damped their ardor? You know them not; but I will tell you who they are.
"There, at the fire, that venerable old man with the high, bold forehead, he is Monsieur de Plessis (Comte Plessis de Riancourt). His grandfather entertained Louis the Fourteenth and his suite within his chateau; he himself was grand falconer to the king. And what is he now? I shame to speak it,--a fencing-master at an humble school of the Faubourg.
"And the other opposite to him (he is stooping to pick something from the floor), I myself saw him kneel at the levee of his Majesty, and beheld the king a.s.sist him to rise, as he said, "Monsieur de Maurepas, I would make you a duke, but that no t.i.tle could be so dear to a Maurepas as that his ancestors have borne for six hundred years." And he, whose signature was but inferior to the royal command, copies pleadings of a lawyer to earn his support.
"And that tall man yonder, who has just risen from the table,--neither years nor poverty have erased the stamp of n.o.bility from his graceful figure,--Comte Felix d"Ancelot, captain of the Gardes du Corps; the same who was left for dead on the stairs at Versailles pierced by eleven wounds. He gives lessons in drawing! two leagues from this, at the other extremity of Paris.
"You ask me if they hope; what else than hope, what other comforter, could make such men as these live on in want and indigence, declining every proffer of advancement, refusing every temptation that should warp their allegiance? I have read of great deeds of your Emperor,--I have heard traits of heroism of his generals, compared to which the famed actions of the Crusaders paled away; but tell me if you think that all the glory ever won by gallant soldier, tried the courage or tested the stout heart like the long struggle of such men as these? And here, if I mistake not, comes another, not inferior to any."
As she spoke, the steps of a _caleche_ at the door were suddenly lowered, and a tall and powerfully built man stepped lightly out. In an instant we heard his footstep in the hall, and in another moment the door of the _salon_ opened, and M. Rubichon announced "Le General Count Burke."
The general had just time to divest himself of his travelling pelisse as he entered, and was immediately surrounded by the others, who welcomed him with the greatest enthusiasm.
"Madame la Marquise de Langeac," said he, approaching the old lady, as she sat in the recess of the window, and lifted her hand to his lips, "I am overjoyed to see you in such health. I pa.s.sed three days with your amiable cousin, Arnold de Rambuteau; who, like yourself, enjoys the happiest temperament and the most gifted mind."
"If you flatter thus, General," said Madame de Langeac, "my young friend here will scarcely recognize in you a countryman,--a kinsman, perhaps.
Let me present Mr. Burke."
The general"s face flushed, and his eyes sparkled, as taking my hand in both of his own, he said,--
"Are you indeed from Ireland? Is your name Burke? Alas! that I cannot speak one word of English to you. I left my country thirty-eight years since, and have never revisited it."
The general overwhelmed me with questions: first about my family, of which I could tell him little; and then of my own adventures, at which, to my astonishment, he never evinced those symptoms of displeasure I so confidently expected from an old follower of the Bourbons. This he continued to do, as he ate a hurried meal which was laid out for him in the _salon_; all the rest standing in a circle around, and pressing him with questions for this friend or that at every pause he made.
"You see, gentlemen," cried he, as I replied to some inquiry about my campaign, "this is an instance of what I have so often spoken to you.
Here is a youth who leaves his country solely for fighting sake; he does not care much for the epaulette, he cares less for the cause. Come, come, don"t interrupt me; I know you better than you know yourself.
You longed for the conflict and the struggle and the victory; and, _parbleu!_ we may say as we will, but you could have scarcely made a better selection than with his Majesty, Emperor and King, as they style him."