"No, Pioche. My visit was intended for you; and I have had the good fortune to come in for the tale mademoiselle was reading."
Before I had concluded these few words, the wounded soldiers, or such of them as could, had risen from their seats, and stood respectfully around me; while Minette, retreating behind the great chair where Pioche lay, seemed to wish to avoid recognition.
"Front rank, Mademoiselle! front rank!" said Pioche. "_Parbleu!_when one has the "cross of the Legion" from the hands of the Emperor himself, one need not be ashamed of being seen. Besides," added he, in a lower tone, but one I could well overhear, "thou art not dressed in thy uniform now; thou hast nothing to blush for!"
Still she hung down her head, and her confusion seemed only to increase; so that, unwilling to prolong her embarra.s.sment, which I saw my presence had caused, I merely made a few inquiries from Pioche regarding his own health, and took my leave of the party.
As I rode homeward, I could not help turning over in my mind the words of Pioche, "Thou art not in thy uniform now; thou hast nothing to blush for!" Here, then, seemed the key to the changed manner of the poor girl when I met her at Austerlitz,--some feeling of womanly shame at being seen in the costume of the vivandiere by one who had known her only in another guise. But could this be so? I asked myself,--a question a very little knowledge of a woman"s heart might have spared me. And thus pondering, I returned to the Luxembourg.
CHAPTER XVI. AN OLD FRIEND UNCHANGED
They who took their tone in politics from the public journals of France must have been somewhat puzzled at the new and unexpected turn of the papers in Government influence at the period I now speak of. The tremendous attacks against the "perfide Albion," which const.i.tuted the staple of the leading articles in the "Moniteur," were gradually discontinued; the great body of the people were separated from the "tyrannical domination of an insolent aristocracy;" an occasional eulogy would appear, too, upon the "native good sense and right feeling of John Bull" when not led captive by appeals to his pa.s.sions and prejudices; and at last a wish more boldly expressed that the two countries, whose mission it should be to disseminate civilization over the earth, could so far understand their real interest as to become "fast friends, instead of dangerous enemies."
The accession of the Whigs to power in England was the cause of this sudden revolution. The Emperor, when First Consul, had learned to know and admire Charles Fox,--sentiments of mutual esteem had grown up between them,--and it seemed now as if his elevation to power were the only thing wanting to establish friendly relations between the two countries.
How far the French Emperor presumed on Fox"s liberalism,--and the strong bias to party inducing him to adopt such a line of policy as would run directly counter to that of his predecessors in office, and thus dispose the nation to more amicable views towards France,--certain it is that he miscalculated considerably when he built upon any want of true English feeling on the part of that minister, or any tendency to weaken, by unjust concessions, the proud att.i.tude England had a.s.sumed at the commencement and maintained throughout the entire Continental war.
A mere accident led to a renewal of negotiations between the two countries. A villain, calling himself Guillet de la Grevilliere, had the audacity to propose to the English minister the a.s.sa.s.sination of Napoleon, and to offer himself for the deed. He had hired a house at Pa.s.sy, and made every preparation for the execution of his foul scheme.
To denounce this wretch to the French minister of foreign affairs, Talleyrand, was the first step of Fox. This led to a reply, in which Talleyrand reported, word for word, a conversation that pa.s.sed between the Emperor and himself, and wherein expressions of the kindest nature were employed by Napoleon with regard to Fox, and many flattering allusions to the times of their former intimacy; the whole concluding with the expression of an ardent desire for a good understanding and a "lasting peace between two nations designed by nature to esteem each other."
Although the whole scheme of the a.s.sa.s.sination was a police stratagem devised by Fouche to test the honor and good faith of the English minister, the result was eagerly seized on as a basis for new negotiations; and from that hour the temperate language of the French papers evinced a new policy towards England. The insolent allusions of journalists, the satirical squibs of party writers, the caricatures of the English eccentricity, were suppressed at once; and by that magic influence which Napoleon wielded, the whole tone of public feeling seemed altered as regarded England and Englishmen. From the leaders in the "Moniteur" to the shop windows of the Palace an Anglomania prevailed; and the idea was thrown out that the two nations had divided the world between them,--the sea being the empire of the British, the land that of Frenchmen. Commissioners were appointed on both sides: at first Lord Yarmouth, and then Lord Lauderdale, by England; General Clarke and M. Champagny, on the part of France. Lord Yarmouth, at that time a _detenu_ at Verdun, was selected by Talleyrand to proceed to England, and learn the precise basis on which an amicable negotiation could be founded.
Scarcely was the interchange of correspondence made public, when the new tone of feeling and acting towards England displayed itself in every circle and every _salon_. If a proof were wanting how thoroughly the despotism of Napoleon had penetrated into the very core of society, here was a striking one: not only were many of the _detenus_ liberated and sent back to England, but were feted and entertained at the various towns they stopped at on their way, and every expedient practised to make them satisfied with the treatment they had received on the soil of France. An English guest was deemed an irresistible attraction at a dinner party, and the most absurd attempts at imitation of English habits, dress, and language were introduced into society as the last "mode," and extolled as the very pinnacle of fashionable excellence.
It would be easy for me here to cite some strange instances of this new taste; but I already feel that I have wandered from my own path, and owe an apology to my reader for invading precincts which scarce become me.
Yet may I observe here,--and the explanation will serve once for all,--I have been more anxious in this "true history" to preserve some pa.s.sing record of the changeful features of an eventful period in Europe, than merely to chronicle personal adventures, which, although not devoid of vicissitudes, are still so insignificant in the great events by which they were surrounded. The Consulate, the Empire, and the Restoration were three great tableaux, differing in their groupings and color, but each part of one mighty whole,--links in the great chain, and evidencing the changeful aspect of a nation crouching beneath tyranny, or dwindling under imbecility and dotage.
I have said the English were the vogue in Paris; and so they were, but especially in those _salons_ which reflected the influence of the Court, and where the tone of the Tuileries was revered as law. Every member of the Government, or all who were even remotely connected with it, at once adopted the reigning mode; and to be _a l"Anglaise_ became now as much the type of fashion as ever it had been directly the opposite. Only such as were in the confidence of Fouche and his schemes knew how hollow all this display of friendly feeling was, or how ready the Government held themselves to a.s.sume their former att.i.tude of defiance when circ.u.mstances should render it advisable.
Among those who speedily took up the tone of the Imperial counsels, the _salons_ of the Hotel Glichy were conspicuous. English habits, as regarded table equipage; English servants; even to English cookery did French politeness extend its complaisance; and many of the commonest habitudes and least cultivated tastes were imported as the daily observances of fashionable people _outremer_.
In this headlong Anglomania, my English birth and family (I say English, because abroad the petty distinctions of Irishman or Scotchman are not attended to) marked me out for peculiar attention in society; and although my education and residence in France had well-nigh rubbed off all or the greater part of my national peculiarities, yet the flatterers of the day found abundant traits to admire in what they recognized as my John Bull characteristics. And in this way, a blunder in French, a mistake in grammar, or a false accentuation became actually a _succes de salon_. Though I could not help smiling at the absurdity of a vogue whose violence alone indicated its unlikeliness to last, yet I had sufficient of the spirit of my adopted country to benefit by it while it did exist, and never spent a single day out of company.
At the Hotel Clichy I was a constant guest; and while with Mademoiselle de Lacostellerie my acquaintance made little progress, with the countess I became a special favorite,--she honoring me so far as to take me into her secret counsels, and tell me all the little nothings which Fouche usually disseminated as state secrets, and circulated twice or thrice a week throughout Paris. From him, too, she learned the names of the various English who each day arrived in Paris from Verdun, and thus contrived to have a succession of those favored guests at her dinner and evening parties.
During all this time, as I have said, my intimacy with mademoiselle advanced but slowly, and certainly showed slight prospect of verifying the prophecy of d.u.c.h.esne at parting. Her manner had, indeed, lost its cold and haughty tone; but in lieu of it there was a flippant, half impertinent, _moqueur_ spirit, which, however easily turned to advantage by a man of the world like the chevalier, was terribly disconcerting to a less forward and less enterprising person like myself. Dobretski still continued an invalid; and although she never mentioned his name nor alluded to him in any instance, I could see that she suspected I knew something more of his illness and the cause of it than I had ever confessed. It matters little what the subject of it be, let a secret once exist between a young man and a young woman,--let there be the tacit understanding that they mutually know of something of which others are in ignorance,--and from that moment a species of intelligence is established between them of the most dangerous kind. They may not be disposed to like each other; there may be attachments elsewhere; there may be a hundred reasons why love should not enter into the case; yet will there be a conscious sense of this hidden link which binds them; strangely at variance with their ordinary regard for each other, eternally mingling in all their intercourse, and suggesting modes of acting and thinking at variance with the true tenor of the acquaintanceship.
Such, then, was my position at the Hotel Clichy, at which I was almost daily a visitor or a guest, in the morning, to hear the chit-chat of the day,--the changes talked of in the administration, the intended plans of the Emperor, or the last modes in dress introduced by the Empress, whose taste in costume and extravagant habits were much more popular with the tradespeople than with Napoleon.
An illness of a few days" duration had confined me to the Luxembourg, and unhappily deprived me of the Court ball, for which I had received my invitation several weeks before. It seemed as if my fate forbade any chance of my ever seeing her once more whose presence in Paris was the great hope I held out to myself when coming. Already a rumor was afloat that several officers had received orders to join their regiments; and now I began to fear lest I should leave the capital without meeting her, and was thinking of some plan by which I could attain that object, when a note arrived from Mademoiselle de Lacostellerie, written with more than her usual cordiality, and inviting me to dinner on the following day with a very small party, but when I should meet one of my oldest friends.
I thought of every one in turn who could be meant under the designation, but without ever satisfying my mind that I had hit upon the right one.
Tascher it could not be, for the very last accounts I had seen from Germany spoke of him as with his regiment. My curiosity was sufficiently excited to make me accept the invitation; and, true to time, I found myself at the Hotel Clichy at the hour appointed.
On entering the _salon_, I discovered that I was alone. None of the guests had as yet arrived, nor had the ladies of the house made their appearance; and I lounged about the splendid drawing-room, where every appliance of luxury was multiplied: pictures, vases, statues, and bronzes abounded,--for the apartment had all the ample proportions of a gallery,--battle scenes from the great vents of the Italian and Egyptian campaigns; busts of celebrated generals and portraits of several of the marshals, from the pencils of Gerard and David. But more than all was I struck by one picture: it was a likeness of Pauline herself, in the costume of a Spanish peasant. Never had artist caught more of the character of his subject than in that brilliant sketch,--for it was no more. The proud tone of the expression; the large, full eye, beaming a bright defiance; the haughty curl of the lip; the determined air of the figure, as she stood one foot in advance, and the arms hanging easily on either side,--all conveyed an impression of high resolve and proud determination quite her own.
I was leaning over the back of a chair, my eye steadfastly fixed on the painting, when I heard a slight rustling of a dress near me. I turned about: it was mademoiselle herself. Although the light of the apartment was tempered by the closed jalousies, and scarcely more than a mere twilight admitted, I could perceive that she colored and seemed confused as she said,--
"I hope you don"t think that picture is a likeness?"
"And yet," said I, hesitatingly, "there is much that reminds me of you; I mean, I can discover--"
"Say it frankly, sir; you think that saucy look is not from mere fancy.
I deemed you a closer observer; but no matter. You have been ill; I trust you are recovered again."
"Oh, a mere pa.s.sing indisposition, which unfortunately came at the moment of the Court ball. You were there, of course?"
"Yes; it was there we had the pleasure to meet your friend, the general: but perhaps this is indiscreet on my part; I believe, indeed, I promised to say nothing of him."
"The general! Do you mean General d"Auvergne?"
"That much I will answer you,--I do not. But ask me no more questions.
Your patience will not be submitted to a long trial; he dines with us to-day."
I made no reply, but began to ponder over in my mind who the general in question could be.
"There! pray do not worry yourself about what a few moments will reveal for you, without any guessing. How strange it is, the intense feeling of curiosity people are afflicted with who themselves have secrets."
"But I have none, Mademoiselle; at least, none worth the telling."
"Perhaps," replied she, saucily. "But here come our guests."
Several persons entered the _salon_ at this moment, with each of whom I was slightly acquainted; they were either members of the Government or generals on the staff. The countess herself soon after made her appearance; and now we only waited for the individual so distinctively termed "my friend" to complete the party.
"Pauline has kept our secret, I hope," said the countess to me. "I shall be sadly disappointed if anything mars this surprise."
"Who can it be?" thought I. "Or is the whole thing some piece of badinage got up at my expense?"
Scarcely had the notion struck me, when a servant flung wide the folding-doors, and announced "le General" somebody, but so mumbled was the word, the nearest thing I could make of it was "Bulletin." This time, however, my curiosity suffered no long delay; for quickly after the announcement a portly personage in an English uniform entered hastily, and approaching madame, kissed her hand with a most gallant air; then turning to mademoiselle, he performed a similar ceremony. All this time my eyes were riveted upon him, without my being able to make the most remote guess as to who he was.
"Must I introduce you, gentlemen?" said the countess: "Captain Burke."
"Eh, what! my old friend, my boy Tom! This you, with all that mustache?
Delighted to see you," cried the large unknown, grasping me by the hands, and shaking them with a cordiality I had not known for many a year.
"Really, sir," said I, "I am but too happy to be recognized; but a most unfortunate memory--"
"Memory, lad! I never forgot anything in life. I remember the doctor shaking the snow off his boots the night I was born; a devilish cold December. We lived at Benhungeramud, in the Himalaya."
"What!" cried I; "is this Captain Bubbleton, my old and kind friend?"
"General, Tom,--Lieutenant-General Bubbleton, with your leave," said he, correcting me. "How the boy has grown! I remember him when he was scarce so high."
"But, my dear captain--"
"General, lieutenant-general--"