" Cadoudal broke away and pointing his pistol at Caniolle, fired." (See page 322) The Eagle's Talon By Georges Ohnet Adapted from the French by Helen Meyer With 16 Illustrations by A. de Parys G. P. Putnam's Sons New York and London XTbe -Knickerbocker press 1913 COPYRIGHT, 1913 BY G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS Second Printing Ubc ftnfcfcerbocfccr press, flew Borfc SRLg URIJi 51 1 CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. A WOMAN AND A SECRET i II. THE FORTUNE OF WAR ... 24 III. A SNARER OF MEN .... 42 IV. BONAPARTE'S RIVAL .... 76 V. A SUMMONS FROM THE CONSUL . 94 VI. AFFAIRS OF STATE AND OF THE HEART 108 VII. THE DISGUISED VISITOR . . . 122 VIII. FOUCHE'S OPPORTUNITY . . . 132 IX. THE CONSPIRATORS GATHER . . 142 X. AN ARTFUL INQUISITOR . . . 161 XI. A PLOT AND ITS VICTIMS . . .169 XII. LOVE AND PERIL . . . .183 XIII. IN READINESS ..... 195 XIV. TRAPPED . . . . . . 218 XV. THE HIDING-PLACE OF THE COUNTESS 241 iii iv Contents CHAPTER PAGE XVI. THE CHOUANS ACHIEVE REVENGE . 261 XVII. PROMISES AND THREATS . . . 274 XVIII. THE MASTER GUNNER . . . 290 XIX. A CLEW AND A CAPTURE . . 303 XX. VICTIMS OF A LOST CAUSE . .311 XXI. LOVE UNDYING .... 330 XXII. POLITICAL JUSTICE . . . 343 XXIII. THE EMPEROR'S OFFER . . . 356 XXIV. LONG LIVE THE KING! . . . 366 ILLUSTRATIONS PACK "CADOUDAL BROKE AWAY AND POINTING HIS PISTOL AT CANIOLLE, FIRED." Frontispiece "THE DOOR OPENED AND THE COUNTESS DE MONTMORAN ENTERED." ... 14 "FIFTY FEET FROM THE ENTRANCE TO THE TOWN, CADOUDAL HALTED." ... 28 "WITH A GROWL THE CHOUAN SEIZED HER." 38 "!N THE GARDENS THE GAY WORLD CIRCU- LATED, MET, AND EXCHANGED GREETINGS." 52 "AT THE REVIEW YESTERDAY MORNING, THE TROOPS CRIED, 'LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!'" no "BRACONNEAU, DROWSY FROM HIS LONG CHASE OF THE PREVIOUS NIGHT, SAT AT A TABLE IN THE CAFE DE LA REGENCE, PLAYING CHESS WITH ' OLD DAZINCOURT.' " . . 132 "As IF BEFORE HIS CAMP-FIRE CADOUDAL BE- STRODE A CHAIR." .... 146 '"THERE ARE No SECRETS FROM ME IN THIS HEAD,' SHE SAID GAILY, NESTLING CLOSE TO HIS SIDE." 164 vi Illustrations " IN THE CONSUL'S OWN APARTMENT, IN DINNER DRESS, ATTENDED BY HORTENSE BEAUHARNAIS AND CAROLINE MURAT, JOSEPHINE SAT." . . . . .182 AT FRASCATI. ...... 202 " JOSEPHINE, ALWAYS AMIABLE AND ANXIOUS TO PLEASE, SAT SILENT, WATCHING HIM." 236 " ' COSTER DE SAINT-VICTOR, AND YOU, JOSEPH PICOT,' BRACONNEAU SAID CALMLY, ' I ARREST YOU.' "..... 266 '"ARE YOU CITIZEN SINCLAIR?' ASKED ONE OF THE THREE MEN WHO HAD FOLLOWED THE MAID INTO THE ROOM." . . -274 "BONAPARTE STOOD WITH HIS GLASS TO HIS EYES, FROWNING AND THINKING ALOUD." 292 "THE MEN OF THE PREFECTURE LED THEIR PRISONER TO THE DEAD." . . . 342 The Eagle's Talon The Eagle's Talon CHAPTER I A WOMAN AND A SECRET THE Chouan chiefs under command of Georges Cadoudal had met at dinner in the banquet hall of the Chateau de Kerldan to reiterate their determination to oppose the Government of the Consul, and to resist the Consul's attempts to pacify Brittany. Ca- doudal in his habitual dress, a hunter's costume of green velvet, his bare, collarless neck encircled by a loose, black silk cravat, his legs sheathed to the knees in tan leather, sat at the right hand of the Countess de Kerle"an. The Marquis de Montpelet, Brigadier-General of the King's army, lounged with thumbs thrust in his belt, at the left hand of the hostess. The beautiful and notoriously coquettish Countess de Montmoran and the beautiful 2 The Eagle's Talon and amiable Mme. de Tardy, two ladies known to the outspoken Chouans as "Georges' girls," sat at either hand of the Count de Kerlean. Around the table, in the pale light of the crystal lustres, the watchful eyes of Jean Tiffauges, Rev. Father Clarec, Baron de Quatrelouis, and the Chevalier de Kerallac looked out of faces dark with stern resolve. The dinner had been a babel of discussion, and the old wines, served by the liveried lackeys of the household de Kerlean, had not decreased the general animation. "Have you heard," said the Abb6, "Bona- parte has given Father Bernier a bishopric!" "Eh, well! Bernier worked for it; such serv- ices as he rendered when they signed the peace treaty of Chatillon were worth some return!" sneered Quatrelouis. "Bernier is a traitor!" cried de Barbazan. "He has betrayed our cause. Let him not show his face in these regions. I know twenty men who would like nothing better than to kill him." "He knows that as well as you know it," said Cadoudal. "I loved Father Bernier," sighed the Coun- tess de Montmoran. "He is so handsome. A Woman and a Secret 3 His gestures are so graceful. In the pulpit he is a dream! . . . He is a true prelate; magnetic and a most convincing speaker!" "He would have done better if he had kept his mouth shut," said Tiffauges. "His talk lulled our people to sleep to be awakened by HMouville's cannon. . . . And now, after all his plausible villainy, that damned Bona- parte has made him a bishop! If he lives long enough, he will make him a cardinal and seat him on the papal throne. The 'Master of France' knows how to reward his servants; there is no denying that!" "That is why he is not like our kings," piped the soft voice of the gentle Mme. de Tardy. Falling from her artless lips the bold words caused deep emotion. Cadoudal said in a harsh voice: "We serve our King because we are loyal lovers of the monarchy. Shame to us if we look for a reward for our devotion!" "Pardine!" said Tiffauges, "it would do us little good to do anything of that sort! It is easy to talk of ' royalty. ' How many Royalists are there? Normandy is as submissive as a sheep; the men who pillaged Chartres are dead. As far as I have seen, we are the only 4 The Eagle's Talon men of Morbihan on foot. And whom are we fighting . . . and how are we fighting? Our men would throw down their guns . . . they would starve to death; we could not feed them were it not for the English, who toss us a few carbines . . . money, and powder, from time to time." Cadoudal made an attempt to speak; Tiffauges cut short his words: " Georges, you can afford to talk ! You are a general, you wear the jewel of the grand cordon of Saint-Louis, and the King calls you 'friend, ' or, if he is in good humour ' Cousin. ' All that is very agreeable for you, but it does not embellish the appearance of our legs." "Speak for yourself, 'Citizen Tiffauges,' laughed Mme. de Montmoran. "Ah, Countess," murmured Tiffauges, "you are the exception; we all know your perfec- tions." He turned to Cadoudal. "We can- not deny facts; we are at bay, and the men who give us an appearance of authority are as tired of it as we are." "Such talk is blasphemous ! " said Cadoudal. "Not for an instant has our faith wavered; not even in a black dream could the least, the weakest of us, be so base as to forsake the sacred cause." A Woman and a Secret 5 "The 'sacred cause' seems to have for- saken us, " mocked Becdelivre. ' ' Hope against hope is an euphonious legend, but when a thing is impossible, it is impossible. We are as ready to die for the Lilies as for the ladies; but apparently to die is all the service we can render them." "I would rather die than lounge in idleness like Suzannet and d'Autichamp!" shouted de Barbazan. " Let me drop in my tracks, let me be the last Chouan to draw a bead upon the Blues!" Cadoudal sprang to his feet and faced de Barbazan with arms outstretched. "You shall not be the last one; there will be two of us," he cried, hoarse from emotion. "We will die together, and side by side; the last volley fired by the Blues shall be for you and me! By my soul, Barbazan, I love you! Let them set the cross between our graves, and write on it, The last of the Chouan- nerie" The faces of the men darkened. De Keral- lac shrugged his shoulders. The Countess de Montmoran asked briskly: "How many emigrants returned this year?" ' ' Sixty thousand. ' ' "They will form concrete for the consolida- 6 The Eagle's Talon tion of the new governmental organisation. Our people have carved the wood of the black cherry trees of the German forest, and given dancing and fencing lessons to the young Germans long enough. They are tired of poverty!" "They are not as tired as our old nobles will make the usurpers after the restoration. That situation will be delicate, to say the least! " murmured Mme. de Tardy with a fond glance at the glowing face of Cadoudal. ' ' Law is law ! ' ' declared de Kertean. ' ' The 'usurpers,' as you call them, are backed by all the magistrates and gendarmes of the Government of France." "And," added Quatrelouis, "the man who holds the combination together is strong enough to enforce respect for all the acts of the Revolution." "If we could make him disappear what then?" asked Tiffauges. Kerldan laughed. "//"he began. Cadoudal interrupted him. "We have no time for hypotheses. We must be at Pont Scorff at daybreak, to meet the English ship and to get her cargo. Ladies, you must not be frightened; you will hear A Woman and a Secret 7 heavy firing from Lorient and Port-Louis. We shall seize Kerentrec, and under cover of that diversion, we shall establish communi- cation with the ship. We can hold the mouth of the river long enough to receive the cargo." "How many men are you taking?" asked Quatrelouis. "Only a handful; but three thousand are on the way. The whole country is with us; I could call the peasants; they would rise to a man should we need them." As he spoke, a vision clouded his mind. Black night, and a weak band of Chouans struggling in the icy fog of early morning, hemmed in by battalions of the Blues. His chin fell upon his breast and he sat silent, lost in thought. On either side of de Kerle"an a girlish woman leaned forward and gazed into his dark face with eyes chal- lenging his notice. "Awake, Lord Georges!" said the sweet voice of Mme. de Tardy. ' ' Let us drink to the success of the expedition!" All raised their glasses and the Countess de Montmoran cried: "To the glory of our General, and to the restoration of the throne." Cadoudal bowed low to the Countess, and kissed the cheek of Mme. de Tardy. 8 The Eagle's Talon "I thank you. To-morrow night I will bring you news." The company arose from the table, and host and hostess, followed by the majority of their guests, passed through the corridor, to the salon. Cadoudal, Tiffauges, and de Bar- bazan entered a room used by the chief of the Chouans as an office. A short, massive cannon stood in a corner behind piled up double-barrelled pistols and a disordered heap of sabres in shining black-leather scabbards. On a long table a map of the country lay where Cadoudal and his aids had studied it. Cadoudal sank into an armchair and turned with an impatient movement to Tiffauges: "Eh Bien!" he said. "We are alone, we can speak freely. Have you any news? " "You have taken long enough to ask it!" growled Tiffauges. " I could not ask it at dinner, could I? Dis- turb the company . . . excite the ladies "No!" Tiffauges exclaimed with a savage laugh. "It would have been better to wait until the ladies signalled to the Blues to come in and shoot us down!" "What do you mean?" 1 ' I mean that you have been betrayed . You A Woman and a Secret 9 will be trapped at Hennebont, as Charette was trapped at la Chaboterie." " Betrayed ? Who has betrayed me ? I will flay him alive. I swear it by Saint Anne." "And what if it is a woman?" Cadoudal had not stirred. Tiffauges on foot, close to him, faced him, his strong face grim. Making a violent effort the chief mastered his fury; his face turned from purplish red to livid grey. Tiffauges drew a chair close to Cadoudal and de Barbazan seated himself beside Tiffauges. Tiffauges reflected, then he said gently, evidently anxious to efface the effect of his harshness: "I suspected the Countess de Montmoran long ago." "The Countess?" "Yes, General, your dear friend. I took note of the fact that our plans failed whenever they were known to her. I knew that one of our company was a spy, because whenever we planned in conclave, our enterprise fell flat, and we grazed death. I saw that some one reported our plans to the Blues. When the same result had followed three of our councils, I recognised the fact that none but the Coun- io The Eagle's Talon tess could have betrayed us. I confided my suspicions to Barbazan." "You did," said de Barbazan, "but you told me no news. I had suspected it. I had hesitated to speak of my suspicions, because the case was delicate; I shrank from voicing my fears." "After I threshed the matter out with Barbazan," said Tiffauges, "we made a plan when we knew that she was listening. We planned to march in one direction; and we marched in the opposite direction. We set out for a given point; she fell into our trap and notified the Blues that we were to be at a given point at a stated time." Livid, the veins in his forehead black and swollen, Cadoudal listened. "Ostensibly," pursued TifTauges, "we set out for Kenlis to levy tribute. The people of Kenlis had harboured a miscreant priest, a man who had sworn to support the Consular Government ; they had paid their taxes to the Government, and sent their conscripts to Vannes. We set out for Kenlis, and when on the march changed our orders and marched to Guirec. To make sure of facts, and to do full justice to the suspected woman, I sent a spy to Kenlis." A Woman and a Secret n "And that," said Cadoudal, "was why you sent me word to go direct to Guirec!" "It was. Had you been in Kenlis an hour longer, they would have caught you. As soon as she reported our plans, the Blues marched to Kenlis with hussars and cannon. Kenlis was a hornet's nest; the Blues were hidden in the barns, in the alleys, and in the gardens behind the houses. It was a well set trap; they were ready for you!" Cadoudal was dumb. His head sunk on his breast, he sat staring at the floor. Tif- fauges said: "General, this is hard work for us, but it is duty. We love you, we must defend you." In the salon some one was singing, and the reiterated refrain of the ancient ballad fell with mocking insistence upon the ears of the three men. Barbazan said, "Georges, we are four com- rades. We honour you above the princes. Our love is not the fancy of an idle hour." The metallic ring of a clock's bell broke the silence. Cadoudal started. "You are sure . . . there can be no doubt?" "We are sure of it," Tiffauges answered. "We have proved her a traitor three times. 12 The Eagle's Talon The Countess is a spy, she tells our secrets to the Blues." "What is her object?" "Damned women ! who knows what motives actuate them, who can fathom their deviltry? Perhaps she wants money." "Money? she has money! She is jealous" said de Barbazan. "Mme. de Tardy is a pretty woman, and you, General, have been too open in your assiduities." "Georges," exclaimed Tiffauges, "I say as I have said before, ' You cannot mix war with love.' The time has come to take a stand against personal weakness. If you are deter- mined to dance to the piping of the petticoats, be kind enough to give us leave of absence, with permission to go beyond the seas. To continue this game means capture. I have no envy for either a useless or an inglorious death." "Enough!" said Cadoudal. "From this night women shall not set foot on military ground. Give your orders both of you; let the sentries understand that no woman is to pass." De Barbazan made a movement as if to embrace the chief ; Tiffauges, his eyes gleaming, asked : "Shall we go to Kerentrec?" "Yes, armed for battle! Send out the couriers. We must be there in all our strength!" "And," murmured Tiffauges, "what shall you do to her?" "If she is guilty, she shall die!" "Come, come, Georges," urged de Barba- zan ; " do not exaggerate her importance. She is nothing but a woman; we are men. The strong man is merciful. Women, weak beings, inconsequent, delicious puppets! They have no moral consciousness ; it is not just to regard them as responsible. The worst feature of the Jacobins is their inability to recognise the difference between the sexes. They killed de Lamballe, a lovely being, whose beauty should have moved them to pity. They cut the neck of Du Barry, their best ally, the one to whom they owed their Revolution. . . . But you are not a Jacobin, you are a gentleman. She cannot harm you, you have escaped her. Show the nobility of your race ; have mercy on her!" " To the devil with her ! " groaned Cadoudal. " If she is a spy, she shall meet the fate of the spy!" The door opened and the Countess de 14 The Eagle's Talon Montmoran entered. She cast a swift glance at the map and said, smiling: "I must tear you from your conference, General ; Mme. de Kerle"an wishes you to come into the salon at once." "We are about to march," said Cadoudal. "ToHennebont?" "ToHennebont." "With many men?" "With a handful." She clung to him and whispered: "I will meet you there in the morning." He answered, "I shall be there, if I live to get there." "You are not anticipating trouble?" she asked. ' ' No, ' ' he answered. ' ' M a foi, no ! " Laying her head upon his breast, she said fondly: "Bid me adieu here, Georges! I shall not dare to embrace you in the salon, before all the people." He received her caresses coldly, and she murmured reproachfully, "You are not think- ing of me to-night!" "I am thinking," he answered, "of the road to Lorient, of the darkness . . . ambush . . . the Valley of the Shadow death !" " The door opened and the Countess de Montmoran entered." A Woman and a Secret 15 "Go!" she cried pettishly. "You do not desire my love." 11 Adieu, Countess." "I will not say adieu! Au revoir" He returned her coquettish glance with a long, searching stare and answered: "I accept the augury. Au revoir, Countess. We shall meet again." He buckled his sword belt, and, followed by de Barbazan and by Tiffauges, went into the salon. When the door of the salon closed, the Countess ran down the corridor, descended a flight of steps hidden by a tapestry-covered panel, and reached an abandoned cellar. By the dim light filtered through the smoked glass of a lantern fixed to the mouldy wall, she saw a man lying on the ground, asleep. Aroused by her approach, he sprang to his feet, grasping his staff, the redoubtable iron- bound, leather-handled pen-bas of the Breton. At sight of his visitor, his face cleared. "Pardon, Countess," he murmured. "I have been running over the roads and the fields, two days and two nights; my fatigue was greater than my good will." "Your offence is pardonable, Lerebourg," she answered. "You needed sleep. You 16 The Eagle's Talon must set out again, and at once. Are you ready?" "I am always ready." "Go to the man to whom I sent you last night. Tell him to obey the orders already given. Say that the information was exact and that nothing is changed. When you have delivered your message, go to Hennebont and find a secure place where I can be comfortable until the business is terminated. I shall arrive in a post-chaise toward three o'clock in the morning. Meet me where the highway enters the town. I shall dismiss my chaise and go in on foot. Do not keep me waiting." ' ' Bien, Madame, ' ' answered Lerebourg. ' ' I shall be there." The Countess disappeared in the little stairway. The spy, Lerebourg, crossed the cellar, and slipped through a ventilator out into the night. The Countess returned to the corridor, and entered the salon, where nothing had been left to remind the gay com- pany of Cadoudal's night march and its possibilities, save the wistful light in the soft eyes of de Tardy, and the tears upon her cheeks. Cadoudal had taken leave and gone to muster his men. De Barbazan was with him, A Woman and a Secret 17 giving low-voiced orders in the darkness, and from their hiding-places in the fields around the chateau, dark shapes were issuing to form the column. When still close to the chateau, whose walls loomed like solid rock, the spy drew back. Vague sounds on every side told him that the night swarmed with men. Re- treating to the opening in the wall, he slipped back into the cellar, and lying with ear to the ground, listened. After a time the low, imperative call of the Chouan sergeants: "Forward March!" and the swinging tread of the moving column, told him that Cadoudal was on the road. Cau- tiously, in silence, he slipped out of the cellar, and halting incessantly to listen, passed through the field to the highway, and set out for Languidic. After an hour's q uick march he reached a house on the outskirts of the village, and turning into a lane, passed through the barnyard of a farm and knocked on the closed blind of a window on the ground floor. After deep silence he knocked again, and a voice close to the window called from behind the blind. "Who is it? " Lerebourg answered by a low cry like the note of a nested bird. 1 8 The Eagle's Talon " Who is it ? " insisted the voice. 1 ' Biville-Londres. ' ' A man in a loose, brown great-coat opened the door, permitted Lerebourg to enter, closed and barred the door, and led the way into a low-ceiled, long room furnished with a bench and a table. The feeble light of a candle, fixed to the table by its own wax, fell on a broad-brimmed, stiff -crowned hat, and on two loaded pistols. Lerebourg seated himself on the bench and turned to his companion with a triumphant grin. "Well, Braconneau," he said, "this time we are sure of him. He is on the march; he will run into the trap at daybreak. We must be at Hennebont at three o'clock. Now then, let me sleep!" The man called Braconneau, known as "the right hand of the Minister of Police," opened a door, disappeared in an inner room, and came out with his arms full of empty feed bags. He cast the bags in two heaps on the floor. "Lie down," he said. The two men stretched out upon the floor with heads pillowed upon the sacks. Bra- conneau spoke: A Woman and a Secret 19 "Three times we have set out to take Ca- doudal ! Three times he has escaped us. This time will be like the others!" "Hitherto he has eluded us," responded Lerebourg, "because the whole country has worked for him. His luck, the vigilance of his spies, and the zeal of his partisans, have protected him. The whole country has con- nived with him. There is not a bush by the highway, not a stone in the fields in this devil of a Brittany, that has not played into his hands. But the game is up! Montmoran has given him rendezvous at Hennebont at daybreak. No fear that he will not be there! We are spies, Braconneau; but we are not cowards; I smile when I think of the fate awaiting us if we are caught!" "How the peasants hate us!" mused Bra- conneau. "Yes, they would make lint of us. But danger is the redeeming feature of a life like ours; stripped of its danger, it would be a treadmill." They lay side by side in the smoky darkness, and one said to the other: "This is not the first time that you and I, lying in silence and amidst shadows, have tried to sleep." 20 The Eagle's Talon "You are thinking of La Pitie, the Paris hospital, where we lay in our white beds like two sick children. . . . Do you remember the lion of the Atlas? We could hear him roaring in the great garden under the hill, and from our beds we could see the Judas tree, and the cedar brought from Lebanon by Jussieu, the nuns in their white-winged bonnets ... do you remember?" "Let me forget!" The other said after a long silence: "My duty makes my life natural. I owe it to Fouch6 to seize Cadoudal; I will do it; I will deliver him bound hand and foot. I am working for professional duty. You have a personal account to settle with the Royalists. The bullet Saint-Regeant lodged within my breast was as nothing to the wrong done to you." "Vile wretch!" groaned Lerebourg. "He laid my honour in the dust. He killed my joy! Georges Cadoudal was party to his work ; he shall answer for it ; I have sworn it by the memory of my dead. I loved her! . . . If she had come back to me, no matter how, 1 would have pardoned her. But he was young, handsome, and a courtier; and I was old, and a man far below the rank of the A Woman and a Secret 21 aristocrat. Saint-Regeant stole the breath of her innocent soul; he left nothing for her old husband." "Talk of something else!" said Braconneau. "I was a fool to recall the past. We are playing a desperate game, Lerebourg; our lives are the stakes. Danger lends august importance to our calling. Before the day is over we may be in Eternity. . . . Be strong!" Lerebourg answered bitterly. "Do not attempt to disguise my work with fancies. I see the ignominy of my acts. / am a spy. 1 ' In the dim light the room filled with shadows. Lerebourg heaved a sigh. "In my youth I cherished ideals; little by little I awoke to the meaning of life. Then, when I was old, I dreamed again, and my dream brought me to a pass where my soul hears nothing but the cry of desolation." Braconneau feigned to sleep. Lerebourg spoke again. " Within six hours you will satisfy Fouche's ambition. You will hold Cadoudal. He will arrive with a few of his men; the bulk of his troops will be at Lorient." Silence. The two men watched the shadows. 22 The Eagle's Talon Braconneau asked: " Did that woman make any new demands?" Lerebourg sneered. "She demanded one hundred thousand livres, to be paid into her hand one hour after Cadoudal enters the dungeon of Vannes." "One hundred thousand livres! By my soul, she is modest! We have already paid her three hundred thousand livres. What does she do with her money?" Lerebourg shrugged his shoulders. "Did she ever love Cadoudal?" "Never! She courted him because he stands close to the princes." "What is her object now?" "Now her jealousy and cupidity are at work. Mme. de Tardy is very pretty and very loving. The Countess hates her." "She hates him. . . . Yet she is jealous?" "She is jealous of the power of her rival." "Very natural and very feminine! . . . And if Cadoudal is informed of her treachery?" Lerebourg laughed. "If we catch him, we shall draw his claws. If he escapes us ' "Poor devil!" mused Braconneau. "Eh, bienf Why 'poor devil'? She has worked for it; she has not stolen it." Shut in behind the solid shutters of the A Woman and a Secret 23 closed windows, exhausted by their run over the stony roads, the tired spies slept. Bra- conneau was the first to awake. The candle had burned to a pool of wax. "What time is it?" "Midnight." "Let us go. We must be at Hennebont to meet the Countess." Braconneau scraped the wax from the table, set his foot upon the wick, and, followed by Lerebourg, went out into the night. Though the road was deserted, Braconneau led his companion away from the highway and across the fields. Picking their way through the stubble, they covered the distance with the long, swinging pace of men of the road, visited the headquarters of the Blues and delivered their message, and met the Countess as her coachman drew rein at the entrance to Hennebont. CHAPTER II THE FORTUNE OF WAR TN the cold twilight of the hour before the * dawn, three men, on foot in the bell tower of the church of Hennebont, gazed anxiously across the dark country, three lookouts posted by the republicans, warned of Cadoudal's movements by the Countess de Montmoran. One of the three, Braconneau, the Government detective, in his great coat, his head lost in the broad-brimmed hat of a drover, watched the evolutions of a far-off shadow, the English frigate, turning to right and to left, to evade the cannon of Port Louis. The other two men were Lerebourg, in the blouse of a horse-trader, and a grenadier of the Blues in uniform. Lerebourg and the officer stood with backs turned to Braconneau, facing the land, looking toward Vannes and scanning the horizon. Lerebourg said to the officer: "There is a steep hill behind that grove; the place is hidden from this part of the 24 The Fortune of War 25 country. Cadoudal will halt there to give orders. They be must there now." The officer answered: "They have had time to get there. We cannot see anything until the column de- bouches at Yverneau." Braconneau said: "It will take him an hour to get here and to force our outposts. You will have plenty of time to signal to the commandant to call the reserves." The young captain shook his head doubt- fully. " It would go hard with him if I should not! They could catch him like a rat in a trap. By my faith! Braconneau, I think that this is another wild-goose chase. Where is your man?" "He marched at eleven o'clock," said Lerebourg. ' ' I was there. I saw them start. ' ' The officer answered with impatience: "You arrived at our headquarters at two o'clock. You told us that he would be here by the first streak of the dawn. The day is breaking. Mark my words, he has escaped again!" "Impossible! Coster de Saint- Victor and de Barbazan are under orders to attack Lorient to attract the attention of the garrison 26 The Eagle's Talon while Cadoudal gets the cargo from that frigate." (He pointed to the mouth of the river.) " As I have told you, she brings muni- tions from the damned English. Cadoudal must get his guns; he cannot arm his troops until he gets them. It will be quick work. Saint- Victor's part in it is insignificant. Ca- doudal will face all our strength." From the distance, across the land, came the sound of guns. "Hark!" said Braconneau. "That is at Pont-Scorff. Now you will see Cadoudal." As if the frigate had waited to get her bear- ings from the guns of Lorient, she raised sail and made for the mouth of the Blavet. At the same instant one shot was fired, then an- other, and another. The smoke rose slowly from the dew-drenched broom, and on the run, retreating, the broken ranks of the grenadiers of the Republic crossed the plain, making for their outposts and for the city. A clamour arose from the moorland and from the woods, " Long live the King!" and rising from the ground, dark bands of peasants, men and women, armed with guns, with pickaxes, and with bludgeons, encircled the sleeping village, and, dumb but implacable, stood like wild boars before a thicket. Seated on sturdy The Fortune of War 27 Breton horses, moving at a slow trot, Cadoudal, made conspicuous by his white sash, and Tif- fauges, a sprig of broom nodding from the band of his great hat, led their army. One hundred feet from the first house of the village, Cadoudal drew rein and called in a loud voice: "Hola, Commander!" The blinds of a window were thrown back, the window opened, and a man, powdered with the dust of a quick march, his coat thorn- torn, and faded by sun and rain, his thick moustache bristling in the shadow of a weather- stained broad-brimmed hat, looked out. "Well," he cried, "what do you want?" Cadoudal answered: "I want to avoid massacre. You are in this place with a hund- red men; behind me three thousand await my orders. You are in the trap set for me." "Come and take me!" cried the man at the window. " Not I ! You are a brave man; I should be a coward should I take advantage of your weak position. Go! The road to Lorient is clear; we shall not follow you." " You are crazy ! " shouted the Blue. " Not so does a Republican read his orders. I was sent here to defend this place. You came here to attack it. Do your duty." 28 The Eagle's Talon Cadoudal turned to his men: "Young ones, you hear ! He will not go, therefore we must put him out. We must get that cargo and we cannot get it until we have taken Hennebont. . . . Forward! In the name of the Blessed Virgin and for the King!" In an instant the troops had disappeared in the town, and Cadoudal, on horse, attended only by his orderly, Taillard, faced the com- mander. The Republican contemplated the man advancing alone to take Hennebont, then, with face flaming with wrath, he turned to his officers. "Send two men to warn Lorient that we are here, surrounded by Chouans! Warn them that the three lookouts are still in the tower. And now, children, let us show them what it is to be soldiers of Hohenlinden ! " A furious volley pointed his harangue. A cannon, masked behind low walls, cast out its fire, and a few goatskin-coated peasants dropped in the furze. But the hobnailed shoes of the peasants continued to prod the ground, and in silence, with faces set, the Chouans pressed forward. Fifty feet from the entrance to the town, Cadoudal halted, and, taking off his hat, held it aloft. The troops stood still. The steel " Fifty feet from the entrance to the town, Cadoudal halted." The Fortune of War 29 of their carbines flashed in the light of the rising sun; and through thick smoke, with an appalling roar, the Chouans fired. The ram- rods clicked, the smoke cleared. The silent cannon stood alone, its gunners dead around it. In the narrow streets Tiffauges's men, caught between the walls of the houses, faced the remnant of the Blues. The neighing horses reared. After a furious fight, cutting their way, beating down the peasants, the thinned ranks of the Republican squadron passed, leaving be- hind their dead and dying. With face grave, with head bowed, Cadoudal rode slowly on. "Take the prisoners to the Town Hall," he said. "Call the chiefs." The Chouans were in Hennebont, in all the streets, and in the public square the men were preparing for breakfast. Throughout the town soldiers ransacked the storerooms, and women, defending their cupboards, screamed. Laughing and swearing, the foragers staggered from the houses, laden with chickens, bread, and cheese. From barrels rolled out of the cellars the wine ran into the canteens; and, sitting on the ground with backs against the houses, the Chouans ate and drank. 30 The Eagle's Talon In the great public room of the Town Hall, Cadoudal sat at the mayor's table, surrounded by his officers, counting the cost of the morn- ing's work. "We have eighty prisoners," said Becde- lievre. "Put them in carts and send them to their regiments." "We took one of their two cannon. Their hussars carried off the other." "Throw the cannon in the river. We can- not take it with us; we must not leave it." "We picked up three hundred guns and a large number of cartridges. ..." "Good! We need them. How many men have we lost?" "One hundred and five. The wounded are on the way to Vannes." Cadoudal sighed. He drummed the table with his thick fingers. "Bring in the Republican!" Seated at the mayor's table in the great public room of the Town Hall, the chief awaited his prisoner. He motioned Becde- lievre and Tiffauges to places at the table, threw down his broad-brimmed hat, and shook his great head. "Approach, Commandant," he said. "Be The Fortune of War 31 seated. Do not attempt to stand. You are wounded. How many men had you this morning?" "One hundred." "One hundred! You awaited my attack with one hundred men?" The Republican lowered his eyes; he was silent. "You supposed that I too had but a hand- ful. You thought that your cavalry could take me. . . . Was that it?" The officer did not answer. "You knew my movements; three times within the last three weeks you have tried to draw me into a trap. Your spies keep you well informed." The commandant made an energetic gesture. "General," he answered, " I have nothing to say concerning these matters. I do not question. I obey." " By Notre Dame d'Auray!" cried Cadoudal, "you knew a little something of what you were doing. You had three men on the lookout in the tower. We have eyes; we saw them. They vanished when the fight began. Where are they?" The commandant grinned. " Pardi! they must be near Lorient, if they are still running. 32 The Eagle's Talon It was not their business to fight; they ran. That was natural enough." "What became of the woman?" asked Georges, fixing his eyes on the frank face of the Republican. " Ma foil She must be in Hennebont. It is hardly probable that she ran after the men." "What was her business here?" The Commandant sneered. "I did not ask. Women, nervous parasites! They are in the way in time of peace ; in time of war they are dangerous." "They are valuable auxiliaries when faith- ful," Cadoudal answered with a strange smile. "They fight better than men. . . . Only, devil take them! they are women, and, con- sequently, coquettish, spiteful, and jealous. Commandant, when you report to your chief, tell him that you faced three thousand Chou- ans with one hundred Blues. That ought to satisfy him." The Republican saluted. At the same moment Taillard entered and said in answer to Cadoudal's questioning look, "She is here." Cadoudal turned to an officer: "Conduct Monsieur the Commandant out of the town. Give him his arms and his horse." The Fortune of War 33 The Commandant saluted, and the two men passed through the door. By the same door, pale, but smiling, the beautiful Countess de Montmoran entered. She advanced with gliding step, agitating her white hands like a pleased child. 1 ' Hail General ! ' ' she cried gaily. ' ' I salute the conqueror!" In sympathy with the fury of his chief, Becdelie'vre sprang to his feet. His face purpled. The Countess looked from Becde- livre, menacing in look and attitude, to Cadoudal, livid, dumb with fury. "What is it?" she murmured. "Georges! Speak to me! What has happened? I came, my heart filled with joy, to hail your triumph. I find you cold, deaf to my voice, blind to all that my looks would say!" Cadoudal choked, struggled to speak coolly, and said in a voice hoarse and changed: "Madame, should you be told that I had betrayed the King, forsworn my God, and sold the Lilies, what should you say to me?" "What a question! I should say nothing. I should know it to be false. I would stake my head on your honour." Cadoudal ignored her protest ; he continued : "Three times I staked my life on my faith 34 The Eagle's Talon in you. When I went to Saint-Ravel with twenty-one men to meet de la Maupliere, a brigade of Blues with cannon lay in wait for me. Who told them that I was coming?" "How should I know?" "You knew that I was going there!" ' ' So did la Maupliere. He told. ' ' "Coward! You are safe in accusing him. He is dead; he cannot answer you. Last week I barely escaped a trap set at La Hous- saye ; had Tiff auges failed to prevent my going to La Houssaye, I should have been killed or cast into prison. Last night before I set out for Hennebont, you made me tell you twice that I was going with less than a score of men." "I was anxious! I questioned you because I love you!" cried the woman. "Do you accuse me of telling the enemy? How could I have told them? I was at de Kerldan! Should I have come to Hennebont had I known that there was to be fighting?" "You knew it!" roared Cadoudal. "Your agents went ahead of you to warn the Blues!" "My agents?" "Your agents! The men in the church tower. They ran like hares at the first shot. Defend yourself! What have you to say?" The Fortune of War 35 "I shall not answer your insults. This is my reward for my devotion." " I am going to find out what they paid you for your 'devotion.' The price they paid is on your person at this moment." The beautiful woman started as if stung, and turning her livid face from his threatening gaze, she stammered: "You know that I carry my fortune day and night, that I know that nothing belonging to a partisan of the throne is safe from the ferrets of the consular service." Her duplicity exasperated Cadoudal. "Ah, ah! My pearl of fidelity!" he cried with a hoarse laugh. "I shall soon know what treasures you have upon your person ! If we find recently acquired riches, gold or gems that I have not seen the gold you sold me for . . . banknotes or diamonds then what?" "What do you mean?" gasped the terrified woman. "I will show you." " Do not lay hands upon me ! " she screamed. " It would not be the first time," he answered brutally. "But this time I will use your means; I will work through a substitute. Here, Taillard! Search this woman as you search your prisoners." 36 The Eagle's Talon "He shall not touch me!" shrieked the Countess. ' ' A lout ! a common soldier ! I will not suffer it! Georges! Oh, I beg of you! Remember! I have loved you!" With a bound Taillard reached her. ' ' Wretch ! ' ' she shrieked , " Brigand ! ' ' She had drawn a pistol from her skirt. As she pointed it, Taillard threw up her arm and the bullet pierced the ceiling. In an instant the Chouan had thrown her and searched her filmy laces with eager hands. In the pocket of an underskirt he found a leathern bag and a sachet-like portfolio. He threw them on the table. Tiffauges emptied the portfolio of its gold and banknotes; then, opening the bag, he let fall upon the table a shower of unset rubies and diamonds. ' ' Jewels as well as gold," he muttered. "Greedy devil!" 11 Eh, ma belle," snarled Cadoudal, "your devotion was a paying business. I will sell the stones and buy guns for my men. Take the money, Tiffauges; that is our first spoils of war. Divide it among your soldiers." The Countess gnashed her teeth. "May you die like dogs!" she screamed, making wild efforts to escape from the grip of the orderly. "Fiends! Cowards! ... to mal- treat a woman!" The Fortune of War 37 Beside himself Cadoudal shouted: "Last night you drank from my glass. . . . I trusted you. Barbazan warned me of your treachery; Tiffauges saw clear. They were watching you. You came to Hennebont to see me trapped ! Eh, bien, Jezebel ! We were on time. But the game turned hunter and the victim turned executioner." "Executioner/"' shrieked the woman, mad with fear. "You are not fit to die ! " Cadoudal answered with a contemptuous laugh. "I shall not kill you. I know no death fitted to crime so vile as yours. The block has been washed clean with royal blood, and bullets are for men. I might hang you; but it is not my habit to kill women. You shall live to carry on your business. Take her, Taillard; I give her to you." With a growl the Chouan seized her. Her nails tore his cheeks. His coarse mouth stopped her cries. With a howl of triumph he carried her away. Coldly indifferent, Cadoudal sorted his papers, put on his hat, and turned to the door. "And now," he said to his men, "en avantf We must be at the mouth of the Blavet within an hour. Becdelievre, you will fall on 38 The Eagle's Talon Kerentrec, while Tiffauges lends a hand to Coster de Saint-Victor at Lorient. We must get our guns from the frigate and force an entrance to the town." Like boys released from school, they ran down the slope. Cadoudal sent for the horses. On the public square the troops were strapping their haversacks, making ready for the march. From the slope they saw the mouth of the Blavet. The sea was running high. ' ' Look ! ' ' said Tiffauges. ' ' The sea is high ; it will be easy to get off the guns! ..." "They are lowering the boats! Look! what is that? By heaven! the Blues are after them!" As the boats touched the water, a fleet of fishing-barks, manned by Republicans, emerged from the fog and fired upon the frigate. Cadoudal knew that to lose the cargo would be to lose the only means of arming his troops. On horse, followed by his men, he hastened toward the Scorff. Swinging with the tide, the frigate lay under the double fire of Port- Louis and the fishing fleet. A shell from Port- Louis cut her mainmast and covered her decks with canvas and with cordage. Under ' With a growl the Chouan seized her.' The Fortune of War 39 fire of the Blues, the boats fell back against the ship. A distance of one hour's march lay between Cadoudal and the river, and he knew it. Even as he gazed, powerless to offer aid, a brig in command of Cosmao put out from Lorient and advanced under full sail to attack the frigate. Covering the frigate from end to end, the brig opened fire and heaped the decks with dead and dying. The men in the small boats ran up the sides of the frigate, and, her mainmast gone, her two remaining masts carrying all their canvas, she made for the high seas, leaving her small boats tossing in the Blavet. In the fight that followed Cosmao foiled the efforts of the Chouans, and, well pleased with his work, sailed for Lorient, towing the aban- doned boats. The loss of the English cargo was followed by the failure of the attempt made by de Barbazan and Coster de Saint- Victor. Brune, at the head of his division, fell upon the weak detachment of the Chouans, and sweeping the despairing ranks with the hail of his mitrail- leuse and pursuing them with his cavalry, he took stern revenge for Cadoudal' s evasion of the trap set for him at Hennebont. Cadoudal 's magnanimous return of the 40 The Eagle's Talon wounded, his release of the commandant, and his easy rout of the hussars, had exasperated the Republican general. Falling on the Chou- ans with all his strength he turned their flank and drove them to the sea. Forced back inch by inch in the beginning, lashed to desperate flight along the Scorff, Cadoudal seemed doomed to suffer a disaster like that of Quiberon. Swift as the wind Brune's flying artillery had barred the only way of retreat for the Chouans. Hot combat was on near K6rentrec. Rounding Pont-Scorff the Republican cav- alry pursued the men of de Barbazan and Coster. Just at that moment, by one of the manoeuvres known to history, Cadoudal assembled the Chasseurs of the King and turned them on the centre fixed by the Repub- lican leader as the concentration point of his work of destruction. With frenzied shouts the Chouans charged and forced back Brune's grenadiers. Surrounded by his chiefs, Cadou- dal advanced slowly, hidden by the smoke of a wild fire. His men were breast to breast with the grenadiers of the Republic. The smoke was dense, and powerless to distinguish friends from enemies, afraid of killing their own men, the Blues ceased firing. Beating and beaten, The Fortune of War 41 veiled by smoke, Republicans and Chouans swept on toward the prairie. On the prairie, breast high in the moorgrass, seen only by the men of his own command, Cadoudal swung his hat and dropped. Brune's men continued their slow fire for a time, then the scattering shots ceased. The wind, blowing from the sea, broke up the low-lying banks of smoke, and the Blues, showing their heads here and there in the thorn-broom, saw that the Chouans had escaped. By one of his strategic feats, Cadou- dal had, at the last minute, dispersed his men; and Brune, thinking that he held him fast, stood like a man closing his hand on the empty air. Conqueror in the morning, conquered in the evening, Cadoudal had disappeared. CHAPTER III A SNARER OF MEN HTHE fight at Hennebont closed the Grand * Chouannerie. Brune, master of Morbihan, had driven a few despairing men led by Cadou- dal's lieutenants into the woods and on to the moors. Cadoudal had crossed the sea and been received by the Count d'Artois, as Villars was received by Louis XIV after Malplaquet. Promoted to the rank of Lieutenant-General, decorated with the grand cordon of Saint- Louis, and recognised by the princes as the support of the throne, Cadoudal had com- passed all things demanded by his pride; but deep hatred of Bonaparte ruled his mind and the honours bestowed upon him by the princes were as nothing to him. He aspired to stand before France as the hero of the monarchy, and to lay the man of the Revolution in the dust. A few weeks passed in the ceremonious insipidity of court life gave him a homesick longing for freedom. Having obtained leave of absence, he bade adieu to the Count d'Ar- 42 A Snarer of Men 43 tois, declared that he was needed in France, and set out in disguise for a little seaport on the English coast, where he awaited an opportunity to cross to Normandy. The close of the insurrection had given intense satisfaction to the people of Paris, and under the firm rule of Bonaparte France had entered upon an era of prosperity. Bona- parte held the public business in a steady grasp and the peace maintained by force of arms conferred inestimable tranquillity upon the harassed sufferers of the Revolution. Tired out by many victories, the Alliance had halted to take breath. The power of the Consul was boundless. The people were ruled by the breath of his spirit, and the cry heard at the close of the military reviews, Long live the Emperor! echoed the universal satisfaction. Resuscitated by the impulsion given by the extravagant tastes of the Court of the Tuileries, luxury had reappeared wher- ever the means of the people made extrava- gance possible. The looms of Lyons clicked day and night. Extremely simple in his own tastes and in his dress, Bonaparte exacted the utmost elegance of dress on the part of the officials of his Government. The extrava- gance of the Consul was severely criticised 44 The Eagle's Talon by the Republican party, chiefly represented by Moreau, whose disapproval had increased the bitterness between the conqueror of Hohenlinden and the conqueror of Marengo. Moreau 's friends blamed him because he had lent his own glory to Bonaparte's ascent to sovereign power. Public opinion was divided between the two conquerors; it was under- stood that should Bonaparte disappear, Moreau, and Moreau only, could take his place. Lucien and Joseph, furious but power- less partisans of Bonaparte and pretenders to his succession, were forced to listen in silence to the loud-voiced rumours. Bona- parte's feeling against Moreau made him keenly suspicious. Pichegru, who had sought refuge in London after his escape from Sinna- mary, had made his lodgings a hotbed of intrigue. He was known to be on excellent terms with Cadoudal, and to be plotting for the overthrow, or for the death of Bona- parte. Intrigue was rife, but the world of Paris was fast bound in the thrall of pleasure. The twelve years passed in terror, in bodily suffering, and in mental anguish, were like the memory of a nightmare. Assured of the invincible protection of a powerful military ruler, rich and poor alike rejoiced in peace, A Snarer of Men 45 and asked for nothing but to forget. Regular pursuit of the daily business had filled the public coffers, and with the return of money, the taste for everything that money can buy reasserted itself. Josephine had acquired Malmaison and planted her rose garden, and there, on Sundays, she received all who hoped for the favour of Bonaparte. It was at the time where the flower of the world of art laid gifts at the feet of the beautiful mother of Hortense and Eugene Beauharnais; when little plays and splendid balls were given for the young step-daughter of the Consul, when the master of France rolled the hoople and swung his nervous body over the cross-bar with the children of his former beloved. Happy time of Promise! By far the happiest time for him who in a life of triumph mingled with anguish and humiliation was to sound the depths of the pathos of human destiny. On a balmy day in May, 1803, a woman, young, beautiful, and attired with incompar- able elegance, alighted from a cabriolet, be- fore the well-known milliner's establishment, The Blue Bonnet, in the rue Saint-Honore and entering the shop, greeted the attendant. "Yes, I am Countess de Montmoran. I see 46 The Eagle's Talon that you remember me! M. Lerebourg is at home, I hope. He is? ... I am glad of that; my time is precious." "I will call Monsieur." "No," interrupted the Countess. "An- nounce me. I will go up to the salon." The attendant opened the door of a long, beautifully appointed Louis XVI salon on the second floor, begged the visitor to be seated, went on to Lerebourg's office, announced the Countess, and returned to the shop on the ground floor. Lerebourg appeared at once. "Eh, Lerebourg, "cried the Countess, "draw your chair close! I have news; Coster de Saint- Victor was seen in Paris late last night. I was informed early this morning. If he is here, Cadoudal must be here. How can we catch him." The eyes of the pretty creature sparkled with hatred and her voice vibrated with rage. Lerebourg, calm and smiling, answered : "We shall do it! ... and then, when I hold him fast, he shall answer for what he has done!" "That will not satisfy me," she replied with savage emphasis. "His infamies were committed in the name of the princes; I will hold the princes responsible! ... If I could A Snarer of Men 47 find some way to entice the Count d'Artois to France " "You exaggerate, Countess," answered Lerebourg. "We have nothing to do with the princes. Let us strike the real authors of our ills, the men who did the work. You may torture Taillard. . . . Cadoudal's head shall roll in blood ; I find all that reasonable but what have the princes done?" "What have the princes done?" mocked the pretty woman, stamping her foot. ' ' What have they not done? Who stole into your life and beguiled the girl who used to sit here sweetly smiling, like a happy child? She would be here to-day if the pretenders had not sent their emissaries to Paris to kill Bonaparte ! ' ' Pale, haggard, silent, Lerebourg searched the shadows as if hoping to evoke a phantom. Before his eyes the cushions of the great arm- chair, where she had so often sat half-hidden, smiling over some ancient romantic story of the days of chivalry, seemed still to bear the imprint of her girlish head. He sighed: "I have tried to avenge her. They have always escaped me. Coster, like Georges Cadoudal, bears a charmed life. But I have not lost hope. I am not the only one at work; our party is strong." 48 The Eagle's Talon The Countess murmured: "Are you sure that Fouche is not playing a double game?" "Sure? How can I be sure? He has al- ways betrayed something or some one. But Braconneau is close to him and he is true to us!" "Are you sure of that?" "Absolutely sure. Braconneau is the in- carnation of professional duty. I remember a remark he made to me: ' A spy must be doubly careful of his probity because his calling gives him a bad name. He must shun even the ap- pearance of evil.'' Braconneau is true. We will warn him that Coster de Saint- Victor is in Paris. He will find him. But tell me, Countess, who gave you your information?" De Montmoran laughed. "A pretty woman whom I see often at Frascati of late. She has talked to me of her entanglement with an Italian, the Marquis Angiolo Crescenti, an attache of the Legation of Parma. He has been in Paris only a few days. Angiolo is a very handsome fellow, very alluring. . . . But he has a scar on his left cheek. Doubtless you recall the fact that Coster de Saint-Victor received a bad sword thrust in battle three years ago?" A Snarer of Men 49 "I remember that. But are you sure? More than one man has a scar upon his cheek." "There can be no mistaking this case. I remembered the fact of the scar and I asked little Sinclair to let me look at her Marquis. I saw him at faro, playing high and winning. He was always lucky! . . . There can be no doubt about it! It is Coster. His skin has been stained; his hair is hidden by a wig of black curls, and his pretty Henri IV beard and fine moustache have disappeared; but it is Coster de Saint- Victor." "And what of the woman? Who is she?" "A young widow; the friend of a mer- chant. She is fearless, alluring, and capri- cious. . . . Her last lover was Fournier of the Guards, a fellow as brutal as a Cossack, and the best swordsman in France. We can work against Coster through his jealousy." Lerebourg shrugged his shoulders, but re- pressing his impatience, he answered : " Countess, your information calls for imme- diate action. I shall send word to Bracon- neau at once. If Cadoudal is in Paris " "He is in Paris," interrupted the Countess. "There is no question as to that." "Real will know how to reward the man who takes him! Bonaparte will pay a high price 50 The Eagle's Talon for his enemy. Cadoudal is the only man he fears. He detests Moreau; he despises Pichegru; Cadoudal he dreads." The Countess laughed. Lerebourg contin- ued: "If Crescenti is really Saint- Victor, it will be safer for you, Madame, to keep out of his sight. If he sees you, you are lost." "I do not think so! I think that I might find means to persuade him that I am working for him . If I convince him that I love him She smiled archly. " N'est-ce pas, Lerebourg? " Moved by an impulse of horror, Lerebourg turned away. "Use your own judgment, Countess," he said. "In my opinion you are running dangerous risks." "It is not the first time! Leave everything in that part of the matter to me; if he sees me, I shall make him think that I have not re- cognised him. . . . And now, Lerebourg, au revoir! You will do your work?" "At once. I shall send Braconneau to you. You can give him his orders." The Countess de Montmoran was a native of Brittany. From the time of her arrival in Paris she had lived in the world of adven- turers. Libertinage and dissipation ruled the society of Paris from the close of the Director- ate to the opening of the Empire. The twelve years of Revolution had passed over France like a never-ending cyclone, overturning the society of the ancient nobility and setting upon a firm foundation a society as ignorant of the rights of property as of honour and religion. Secure in armed peace, the people basked in the prosperity due to the rule of the Consul. The land had changed hands repeatedly, and the new landholders were not sure of the validity of their rights. The churches had been closed, the priests had been proscribed, and the faithful had with- drawn beyond the reach of the clergy. The clergy seemed inclined to favour the Govern- ment, and to smile leniently upon the artless dissipation of the masses, who loved life all the better for having felt the breath of death. The theatres were gorged and the martial pomp of the reviews and parades attracted not only the people of the city but all who could get into the city from the outlying country. Building had begun in the ruined districts and the public work and the activity of the manu- facturers gave satisfactory employment to all. Some of the priests had taken the oath of allegiance. The churches, long forgotten, 52 The Eagle's Talon were open for public worship; the nobles were returning from exile, and the public manners were improving. The gross equality of Sans- Culottism had had its day. The gilded clique of Freron had put the rough upstarts of the world of low intrigue in their places. Men rivalled women in luxury and elegance of dress. Their garments were of silk and velvet; and golden chains, jewels, and floods of delicate lace were worn everywhere. On the bare shoulders of the women of the first Consulate antique cameos, or cameos imitating the antique, caught together the ever-falling shoulder-straps of the tightly-drawn Empire robes. It was the fashion to live in the open air. Tivoli was the rendez-vous of the fine world, and Frascati was its rival. In the soft afternoons, in the clear light of Paris, the ladies of the world of fashion pro- menaded in the gardens of the Tuileries and on the terrace of Les Feuillants. And there, and in like places, they met by appointment. . High- hung cabriolets, in charge of little grooms, waited outside the gardens with the richly- caparisoned horses of the officers of the army of the Republic, while in the gardens the gay world circulated, met, and exchanged greet- ings. An atmosphere of assurance and con- " In the gardens the gay world circulated, met, and exchanged greetings." A Snarer of Men 53 tent enveloped the resuscitated victims of the Revolution, and the universal release from care was shown in the coquetry of the women and in the gallantry of the men. Bonaparte had never been more popular; he was in reality, and in all respects, the master of France. His influence was felt everywhere ; not within the memory of history or legend had there been a personality more powerful, a mind more broad, or a will firmer or more clearly manifest. While waiting for the signal to mount the imperial throne, Bona- parte bent all his executive ability to the work of establishing the nation's business on a firm basis. He planned for the perfecting of the army because the army belonged to France; but he had lost all thought of war. Leaving his generals to their own devices, he passed his time with the jurisconsults and administrators, discussing the best means of improving Paris and creating sources of well- being for the masses. His home life was calm. He had overcome his slavish passion for his wife. The love that had burned so fiercely as to efface his bitter jealousy when the stories of her infidelity had reached his ears during two different campaigns, had cooled to friend- ship alternated with gusts of feeling born of 54 The Eagle's Talon habit and of memory; and serious symptom in his case he had begun to realise that there were women in a world outside of the yellow boudoir where Josephine awaited him in the languorous and perfumed gloom. He had been false not once but at different times. Georges Wemmer, an actress of the Theatre Frangais, Duchesnois's rival, and the object of the ardent pursuit of the Consul's brothers, had attracted his attention. It was rumoured in Paris that it was the Consul's habit to stroll through the city at- tended by one of his young generals, Duroc or Junot. The police found it difficult to keep watch of the Consul. Bonaparte clothed his gallant meetings with mystery. It was known to his police that while he walked the streets and lanes of Paris at dead of night, a score of the Chouans followed him, awaiting their opportunity to accomplish his removal. But Bonaparte was a fatalist, and believing that he could not die before the appointed hour, he braved the poniards of the assassins as coolly as he had faced the fire of the battlefield. The beautiful Countess de Montmoran reckoned upon the Consul's temerity in shap- ing her schemes. Her aim was to meet Bona- parte and to offer to deliver Cadoudal and his A Snarer of Men 55 chiefs into the hands of the police of the Consul. She was in position to act boldly, but she knew that she must talk to the Consul before taking the decisive step. She knew that the palace of the Tuileries was watched by the Chouans' spies ; therefore she could not go to the Tuileries. She knew that the Royalists had tried and true agents close to the Consul, and that those agents kept record of all who visited the palace either to speak to Bonaparte or to carry on their intrigues with Josephine. Montmoran had contemplated writing to the Consul and asking for an interview ; but she knew that her interview must be protected by secrecy, and that she had no right to ask for a secret audience. Bonaparte would have no reason for granting her petition. Even should he consider it, how could she talk to him without exciting the suspicions of the spies? She was searching for means warranting her to approach the Consul, when chance gave her a favourable opportunity. A masked ball was to be given by Mme. de Regnault de Saint- Jean-d'Ang61y, and in order to do honour to one of his most devoted servants, Bona- parte had promised to lend his presence to the brilliant function. Josephine, who was 56 The Eagle's Talon excessively fastidious and sensitive, dreaded the liberty of conduct permitted by the domino and mask. She had sent her regrets; there- fore Bonaparte was free. Accompanied by Duroc, he arrived at the hotel Saint- Jean- d'Angely, at eleven o'clock, intending to make his appearance, greet his hostess, and dis- appear. Completely disguised by a close, black satin domino and a black velvet mask bearded with black lace, he entered the ball- room, followed by Duroc. Duroc, also in a black satin domino, and masked with black velvet flounced with lace, had attached to his own shoulder the little knot of ribbon habitually worn by the Consul as a sign recognisable by his trusted friends. As they entered the ballroom, the Governor of Paris whispered to the wearer of the ribbon : "Good-evening, General. I have arranged everything according to your orders." To his astonishment the domino marked with the grey knot passed in silence, while from the other mask came the imperious whisper: ' 'Begone, Murat! You will attract the at- tention of the spies!" Murat obeyed instantly and the two black masks took refuge from the heat and light in A Snarer of Men 57 a little darkened salon opening on the dining- hall. Bonaparte, seated with back to the door, asked Duroc for a glass of water. Duroc frowned. "You are not to drink water," he answered. " My orders are plain. I know their meaning. I am asking myself how you, who know the vital meaning of the soldier's order, can bring yourself to tempt me to disobey." Bonaparte answered meekly: " I had no idea of drinking the water, Duroc. My face is on fire. I wish to wet my hand- kerchief and cool it." "I shall not leave you for one instant. I am under orders!" Duroc said. "Ridiculous! . . . No one knows that I am in this house. My face is afire!" "I am responsible for your safety," the young general replied. ' ' Be reasonable ; think of France. Is it worth while to risk your life and imperil the peace of the country be- cause your mask has heated your face? To leave you for one instant might be to deliver you to an assassin. The ballroom is safer than this trap ! I will not leave you . . . not even if you order me." Vexed, but touched, Bonaparte sprang from his chair, laughing. 58 The Eagle's Talon "Have your way! Give me air if you will not give me water. Let us escape from the trap." Side by side they crossed the room. They had reached the door opening on the corridor, when a white domino entered like a wind- blown cloud, and addressed not the mask with the pearl-grey knot but the mask without the knot: "General Bonaparte, I must speak to you! I have important information to communi- cate to you for your own good." Bonaparte answered: "Madame, the Con- sul is no longer here; he retired immediately after he entered the ballroom." The white domino murmured eagerly: "You are in error! Mme. Regnault has just assured me that the General came with General Duroc. She assured me that I should know General Duroc by the pearl-grey knot habitually worn by the Consul, but worn to- night by his guard of honour. In the name of Heaven, listen to me! The life of the Consul hangs by a thread!" Struck by the musical voice and by the peculiarly clear enunciation of the sylph- like mask, Bonaparte had stopped short. He fixed his eyes on the eye-holes of the mask A Snarer of Men 59 of the white domino. The light of two remark- ably bright young eyes met his gaze. The little ungloved hands, outstretched as if in supplication, held a handkerchief of priceless antique lace, and a coquettish foot tapped the floor. Bonaparte, speaking in his natural voice, said , laughing : ' ' You are not armed , Madame ? ' ' "Ah, ah!" answered the white domino. "I recognise you, General Bonaparte! I know you by the Corsican accent. No, I am not armed. Make sure of it !" She threw back her white domino and revealed a marvellous throat and pearl-white shoulders. Bonaparte passed his hand over the supple sheathing of her Empire skirt. "No, you are not armed. I will hear what you have to say. Duroc, mon ami, make sure that no one is listening." Duroc stood in the door way like a sentry at his post, Bonaparte, his hands concealed by his domino, sat down upon a divan close to the masked woman. "First of all," he said imperiously, "who are you?" "I am the Countess de Montmoran." "Ah ha!" ejaculated Bonaparte. "A hero- ine of the Grand Chouannerie! And how 60 The Eagle's Talon came you to be in the Republican stronghold may I ask?" "The Chouans had struck my name from their list. The Republicans knew it and they did me justice." "A traitress!" was Bonaparte's quick thought. "But what is that to me?" She sat with hands folded, waiting. "Speak frankly," he said. "What was your object in seeking me?" "I came to save your life." Bonaparte answered with a haughty back- ward movement of his head : " I need no woman to safeguard my person!" "You will be wise if you accept the disin- terested warning of a friend," the white domino answered firmly. "You, who know little of the danger close at hand, will do well if you accept the defence offered to the guar- dian of France by one who has sure knowledge of the schemes of your enemies." Bonaparte frowned. The mask continued: "Your enemies have laid plans; they cannot conquer you; they have determined to kill you." "I do not need you to tell me that; I know it." "You do not know everything," persisted A Snarer of Men 61 the Countess, her voice vibrant with gather- ing anger. "They have laid a new plot. Powerful agents are at work, right here, in Paris. You know them: Georges Cadoudal, Pichegru, Moreau " "Moreau!" interrupted Bonaparte. "Are you sure of what you say?" "I am sure of it! I will deliver them into your hand: Cadoudal, Pichegru, and Moreau." "Moreaul" mused Bonaparte. "Impos- sible!" " Moreau'' declared the Countess, "Moreau the pearl of integrity, the dauntless Pichegru, and the rough brute, Cadoudal." "Rough brute, Countess?" mocked the Consul. " Methinks I have heard it rumoured that the beautiful Chouan heroine loved Cadoudal." "I loved him." The Countess drooped her head. " Oh, yes, I loved him. . . . But he so offended me that to rest even for one hour, I must know that his great round head has rolled in the sawdust ! I hate him! Nothing but his blood will satisfy me!" "Of such stuff is love made!" answered Napoleon. "Truly, Countess, you seem to be a woman whose like I have never met." She bent toward him and whispered eagerly: 62 The Eagle's Talon "I will give you all your enemies for that one great round head." Her perfumed veils brushed his mask. He laid his hand on her arm and murmured familiarly: "Tell me who they are! Won't you trust me? Tell me their names." Annoyed by his failure to grasp the impor- tance of her mission, foiled for an instant by his disregard of his danger, she drew back and answered stiffly: "You are losing sight of the main issue, General Consul; I am here at the risk of my own life to warn you against your enemies." Her strength of purpose challenged his own strength. He hesitated, made a movement as if to take possession of her wilful personality, and after a pause answered lightly: "So be it, Countess! You are a woman of business. I will give you my serious consid- eration. Tell me the names of the men whom you will deliver into my hands." "There are many," she answered: "Piche- gru, Polignac, Coster de Saint-Victor, Picot, and others. They are in Paris, prowling at dead of night, lurking in the darkness, waiting for a chance to kill you." "So?" answered Bonaparte. "And Mo- A Snarer of Men 63 reau. . . . What has he to do with the Chouans?" "Nothing, if he can do without them. Moreau is an ardent Republican. He is working for the Republic. The Chouans need him. Cadoudal and Pichegru count on his influence in the Senate. They believe and possibly they have reason for believing that Moreau has power to arouse the Senate, turn the Senators against you, beat you down, and paralyse the constitutional power. All that he is expected to do by means of the poniard they did not manage to wield the 1 8th Brumaire." Bonaparte listened with head upon his breast. "Possibly," he muttered, "possibly! . . . Pichigru, unfortunate creature, deep in debt, deep in the degradation of his treachery! I can believe anything where he is concerned but Moreau/ the conqueror of HohenlindenI Impossible! ... If that could be, the ground might sink under my feet. The army loves Moreau; he is a power in the Senate. His is the only martial mind at the disposal of the Senate. The others are subordinates; Moreau could take my place to-morrow and he could fill it!" 64 The Eagle's Talon Making a quick movement as if to brush away an annoying thought, he fell into a revery. The Countess permitted him to dream. For some time he sat with head bowed, with brows drawn, and with eyes fixed upon the ground. At last, coming to a consciousness of his surroundings, he asked: "And how can you, a woman, deliver those men into my hands?" "That is my secret, General. Give me full power to act, and place at my disposal a few tried and sure men, and I will prove what I can do." "Where do you live?" "In the Chaussee d'Antin, in the old h6tel de Fuiss6." "I shall send a man to your house to- morrow. You may trust him fully. He will give you the pearl grey knot of ribbon that you see on Duroc's shoulder. Do you need money?" "No, General. I need nothing. I do not want to demean my vengeance by venal calculation. I shall have no one to pay. But I may need to see you suddenly, at any minute." "Keep the grey ribbon. When you present it, you will be received instantly. I will give A Snarer of Men 65 orders to my guards, Constant and Roustam; they are always there. 1 ' She arose. Bonaparte covered her pretty figure and the cloud-veiled head with his piercing gaze and asked in a voice that be- trayed both interest and curiosity: "Have you nothing to say to me? Have you no favour to ask of the Master of France? " "At present nothing. I may ask a favour of the Emperor. Should I do so, my request will be proportioned to the services rendered." "If you do what you have promised to do," he said warmly, "you may ask for anything that I can give." "I shall recall that promise to your memory. Au revoir, General." She passed Duroc and vanished among the guests in the brilliantly lighted ballroom. Duroc approached his chief. "Not worth the trouble, was it?" he asked. "Well worth it!" said Bonaparte. "I am not sorry that I came here. And now, Duroc, let us go home and sleep, if to sleep be possible." The Countess de Montmoran lived on the ground floor of the ancient princely h6tel de Fuiss6 ; a quiet place, far from the noise of the 66 The Eagle's Talon street, a chateau hidden among great trees, where she had taken refuge when she arrived from the field of her labours in Morbihan. With the remnant of her fortune she had bought fine antique furniture and installed herself amidst all the luxury permitted by her means. Having made all things ready for her return to society, she had sought her old friends among the nobility and renewed her social relations with the world of pleasure-lovers. She had met B arras and from the outset the two adventurers had been mutually attracted. The ex-director had appreciated the beauty, the elegance, and the distinction of the keen political intriguer, and the Countess had accepted all the advantages offered by the protection of a party leader. B arras had opened his purse to the young woman only to find that she possessed an appetite much too voracious for his resources. Her contin- uous absorption of money had harassed him, and with a view to saving some small portion of his fortune, he had thrown his pretty ward in the way of Gorgeret, army contractor, and possessor of many millions. Gorgeret, an ex-procurator of the King, was known for his merciless judgments. By his orders the richest of the landowners had been sent to the scaffold A Snarer of Men 67 and their lands had been confiscated. An unscrupulous tool, notorious for his moral laxity, a slave of the purely physical, he re- vealed his character in his face, in his bearing, and in his manners. His corpulent body swayed with an aggressive air upon stiff, short legs, and between high shoulders, padded with flesh as with cushions, his bullet head rose red and threatening, like some malignant physical growth. Gorgeret had been the familiar friend of Cambaceres; the two glut- tons had met twice a week to gorge themselves and to exchange reflections upon abject subjects of personal interest to themselves. To one of their feasts Barras had conducted his good friend, the lovely Countess. The artful and alluring woman had made a pro- found impression upon the gross mind of the unscrupulous speculator. The Countess had transferred her affections from Barras to Gorgeret under clearly defined and immutable conditions. Drilled by Mont- moran, Gorgeret presented himself only on permission granted in response to a respectful petition. His part of his contract covered unquestioning obedience. He had never come in contact with the 68 The Eagle's Talon refined nobility. Awed by the social rank and by the beauty of his conquest, he lived for nothing but to surround her with luxury and to anticipate her fancies. The vampire who had ordered the death of all whose lands he had coveted, knelt before Montmoran as a slave. His ambition was to make her his legal wife. Montmoran was justified in as- suring Bonaparte that she needed nothing. The contractor was generous, and his strong- box was better furnished than the Consular treasury. At noon on the day following the masked ball at the h6tel Regnault, the Consul's agent presented himself at the h6tel de Fuisse, sent in the knot of grey ribbon, and was conducted to the Countess's boudoir. The man was small, red-haired, and red of face. He was in the undress of an officer of the municipal guards. He saluted, searched the rooms with a keen glance, rapidly scanned the face of his pretty hostess, and pointing to the ribbon in her hand, said, smiling: "You are to keep the ribbon, Madame. You will be the next to use it." His voice was calm and his accent strongly Italian. "My cousin, Bonaparte, has ordered me to A Snarer of Men 69 report myself under your orders. I am at your service. I am ready to do anything that you may consider necessary to the safety of the Consul." "You are ?" asked the Countess. "I am Antonio Checa, a Corsican. My mother was a cousin of the family of Bona- parte. I live in the Tuileries, with the Consul. Send to the palace if you need me, day or night. Let the messenger say to Constant or to Roustam: 'Send Checa! J and I shall know at once." "It is well," said the Countess. "I shall remember." "And now," asked the Corsican, "what can I do?" "Be at Frascati to-night," answered Mont- moran. "An 'Italian,' so styled, will be at one of the tables. Play with him, endeavour to win his confidence, and learn his plans. When you have talked to him, report to me." "Do you suspect him, Madame?" "I do not 'suspect,' / know. But I must have proofs, and I cannot get them for myself. 'Crescenti,' as he is called, knows me, and if he sees me or suspects my presence, he will vanish. He must not be permitted to escape. 70 The Eagle's Talon Through him we can reach the agents of the princes, who, as I believe, are in Paris." "May I ask who they are?" "They are Georges Cadoudal and Pichegru." "Diavolo!" "I have been informed that the Chouans with others are plotting to overthrow the Consular Government and to remove Bona- parte." "What! They have marked him for re- moval?" "Yes, Bonaparte is to disappear" Checa wrung his hands. "Bifbante! ..." Struggling to master his emotion, he spoke in a low, determined voice: ''Madame, count on me. I am at your service, body and soul. Bonaparte is my god. Twenty long years our fathers fought side by side in Corsica against Paoli. I would die for Bonaparte, and he knows it." "Follow my instructions," answered the Countess, "and his worst enemies shall fall into his hands. Go now. Obey me implicitly. Be vigilant!" As result of the efforts of the artful Countess, Gorgeret had revealed one of the secrets con- fided to him by Cadoudal and Pichegru. The A Snarer of Men 71 Countess had convinced him that she was devoted to the princes. With the artless garrulity of a child she prattled to the gross parvenu of her friends the nobles, of her work in Morbihan, of the tossing sea, the salt blue mists, and of the pathetic and sordid lives of the Iceland fishermen. And all that she mingled with confessions of her own weak- nesses, her unconquerable longing for jewels, and her envy. She regaled her lover with fervid descriptions of the costumes worn by the indecent beauties of the Consular Court, and caressed by her jewelled hands, looking into her sparkling eyes, the besotted financier forgot his prudence, and talked to her of loans made by him to the princes through Cadoudal. Through Fauche-Borel, the Royalists' agent, Pichegru had asked Gorgeret to lend money to cover the costs of an enterprise which was expected to bring unspeakable honour and inestimable pecuniary profit to the man financing the enterprise. The Countess was terrified by the revela- tions of her corpulent pretender. She be- sought him to be cautious. She warned him of the danger of lending assistance to the notorious Pichegru. "Pichegru is a gambler," she assured Gor- 72 The Eagle's Talon geret. "He will use any means to get money. Think a little of me, please, Athanase ! What can you gain by dalliance with such a man? He is on the road to sure ruin; Bonaparte's spies will catch him at his work and if you are associated with him, your head will roll with the heads of Polignac and Coster de Saint- Victor. Pichegru is not working either for the princes or for the 'dictator/ as you call him; he is working for himself. He is a dan- gerous man." "You do not know him," the contractor answered. "He is astute; he sees clear. Let me bring him when I come again. He will tell you what we are about to do." "Guard yourself well from insolence of that kind!" ordered the terrified woman. "My salon is not a resort for intriguers. I forbid you to involve me in your political schemes. If you could prove to me that one reliable Royalist has endorsed your project, I might listen to you and consent to give you my advice. If Georges Cadoudal had given his approval but Pichegru! Your stupidity is nauseating!" The temptation to tell everything was strong ; but Gorgeret controlled his impulse, wagged his head, and answered with a doubtful smile : A Snarer of Men 73 " Pichegru is not my only dependent. The enterprise is backed by men of State. Moreau is in the game, playing for high stakes. I am not as stupid as I seem. Pichegru alone I might doubt, but Moreau is a horse of another colour. Moreau has got his wind ; he is sound and sure, a winner." "Moreau!" mocked the Countess. "Is it possible that you can fancy for one moment that Moreau would stoop to such business? He is not a fool. He is a devoted Republican ; he knows that his chances will be small when the princes return to France!" Pressing his lips to the gleaming whiteness of her shoulder, the parvenu answered in an unctuous whisper: 1 ' The princes will not return to France. Bonaparte will disappear and Moreau, backed by the Republicans, will rule France as dictator." She shrugged her shoulders. "Prove to me that you have one man like Cadoudal among you and you may talk to me!" His red lips, habitually agape when in repose, trembled, but his face was impassible. . . . . One week later he spoke again: "When I consulted you last, my wife," was his tentative greeting, "you promised to take 74 The Eagle's Talon an interest in my business if I could show you one man like Cadoudal. Cadoudal is one of us; he is here in Paris, and in communication with Pichegru!" "That, I cannot believe!" Gorgeret pressed his lips to her cheek. "It is as true as that I am looking into the eyes of the sweetest of women. I have absolute proof of it. They came to me this morning and asked me to lend them money. I agreed to let them have 10,000 livres if they could give me unquestionable guaranties. Within three hours they brought me a receipt signed for the princes by Georges Cadoudal. If Cadoudal is not in the city, he is so near it that he can be reached at once." "May I advise you?" asked the Countess sweetly. "You know, Athanase, that my sole purpose in life is to serve you." "Speak, beloved wife!" "Destroy that paper; do not keep, even for an hour, a document as compromising as Cadoudal's signature! Bonaparte's police are everywhere; at any moment they may search your house. If they find that paper, you will pay for your folly with your life. I implore you, destroy it." 11 Ma j oil I cannot destroy it; it is too A Snarer of Men 75 valuable. But be calm! I will get rid of it at once. To-night, as I return to the rue Saint-Honore, I will send it by registered mail to Marseilles. I have friends I can depend upon in Turkey ; they will keep it until I need it." Immediately after Gorgeret made his re- velation concerning Cadoudal, de Montmoran entered into communication with Bonaparte. CHAPTER IV BONAPARTE'S RIVAL a lovely morning in September, a cabriolet crept up the steep road leading to Boissy Saint-Leger at Gros Bois. On the box with the coachman sat a man in a great- coat, his face half hidden by a high collar. A round hat covered his iron grey head. The cabriolet stopped before a door in the wall of the park of Gros Bois; the traveller said to the coachman : "Drive on, and wait for me at the entrance of the village of Sucy." "Bien, General." "No titles, my fine fellow! Not even on a deserted highway. It is not known that I am in France." The coachman nodded, cracked his whip, and drove away, The General entered the park and with a firm and rapid step followed a path leading to a rustic pavilion standing at the meeting place of six broad shrubbery- bordered roads, all leading to the picturesque 76 Bonaparte's Rival 77 mass of a chateau sleeping in the sunlight and mirrored in the brown waters of a pond. Under the green vault of the trees the air was exquisitely soft. Rabbits, frightened from their breakfast by the quick step of the stran- ger, hid in the tall grass or bounded upon the talus; in the distance a cuckoo sounded its melancholy note. The ground exhaled the strong, suave odour of the woods, and here and there the sun's rays filtered through the leafage. The stranger had chosen the morning as the time when the conqueror of Hohenlinden, commander-in-chief of the French Army of the Rhine, would be at home. "Happy Moreau!" he said to himself. "What more could life offer than a retreat like this? Had such a resting place fallen to my lot, how gladly would I have sought refuge from the torments and the degradation of a life of intrigue! Yes, could I but hide here, the world, its fame, glory, power, and all that power can give might pass me by." He stifled a sigh and, quickening his steps, reached the rose garden and the grounds per- fumed by blinking pansies, grass pinks, broad spreading heliotrope, and jessamine. As he set foot upon the steps leading to the interior 78 The Eagle's Talon of the rustic building, half arbour, half-chalet, the door opened, and Moreau, smiling and with hand outstretched, came out to welcome him. "Good-day, Pichegru! I saw you as you came up the road. Your face wore a look of care. What were you thinking of ?" Pichegru answered with a sorrowful smile: "Of nothing important. I was thinking only this: that in your place, just after Wat- tignies, if I owned this splendid resting place, I 'd care little who governed France. I should have something better to do than think of Bonaparte." Moreau laughed. "I cannot sink down in my nest to rest while Bonaparte is conspiring against the liberty of France! Have you heard of his latest scheme? He is dreaming of an empire. And what is worse, the army chiefs have dis- cussed the plan in solemn conclave. Soult, Berthier, and Bessieres head the movement. The question is, will the army follow them. I do not think so." The two men had entered the kiosk. Moreau placed a broad-armed bamboo rocking-chair before a table, opened a cup- board, took from it a finely carved nut-bowl, Bonaparte's Rival 79 containing pistachio nuts, a bordeaux glass, a napkin, and a bottle of old wine. Having begged the conqueror of Holland to make himself at home, he drew his own chair to the opposite side of the table. Pichegru had emerged from his great-coat. He drew his chair close to the table and turned his leonine face to the open window. Moreau, seated at the opposite side of the table, resumed his reflections : "Bonaparte is strong; but he is not as sure of success as he seems to be. The general staff backs him; that means a large majority. But my soldiers, the old warriors of Mayence and of Hohenlinden, have not forgotten me. Should I appear at their head and proclaim the Republic, there would be an end to his aspiration to become dictator or emperor!" "That is an incontrovertible fact," answered Pichegru. "And, on the other hand, here is a fact to be listed in favour of our enterprise: if he mounts the throne, there will be no room in France for the chief of the armies of Ger- many. Bonaparte hates Moreau, and his handsome wife hates the young wife of Moreau, and execrates Moreau's mother-in- law. When little causes are in conjunction with great causes, the results are deplorable. 8o The Eagle's Talon Do not fancy for one instant that the people care for the Republic. The people are think- ing of their own interests. The democratic government has done all that it can do for France for the present. The people know it. They are tired of equality. They crave what they are used to : a master. You cannot over- throw the Consul by means of the Jacobins or other Philadelphians ! The masses have not forgotten the absurdities and the horrors of the Terror. They will stand by Bonaparte through fear of another Revolution, if for no other reason!" "And what," asked Moreau, "is your alter- native?" "The monarchy." Moreau stiffened. A shadow swept his face. "Absolute monarchy is impossible!" he said coldly. "All that was drowned by the flood of royal blood. Paris curses the Chouan- nerie and the soldiers of Conde. A constitu- tional monarchy might be possible. The younger branch, the Orleans Bourbons, the sons of Philippe's son . . . that might be a means, if it could be compassed. But how could they skip so many hereditary decrees . . . found the restoration on usurpation?" Bonaparte's Rival 81 "Well," said Pichegru, "that will be the only means. On that all could unite. The liberals could acquire a charta; guaranties for the national property could be arranged. But the man for the place must be a soldier. At a time like this no man is of any impor- tance unless he has military prestige. The army knows nothing of the d' Orleans. We all appreciate facts. We know that Moreau is the man of the hour, the man to save France, the man to avert the empire. You are known to be Bonaparte's natural rival and his only rival, the one man able to take his place at the head of France. You are the weight needed to turn the scales." Moreau frowned. "Never, no, not even for one instant, not even in my secret reveries, have I thought of myself in connection with the government of France! Our national conditions are too grave to permit any man who loves the country to indulge in dreams of personal interest or personal ambition. I have never fallen so low as to act from egotism. I am thinking of nothing but France." "That I have never doubted," was Piche- gru's subtle answer. ' ' And in view of our com- mon aim : to save France from the fate reserved 6 82 The Eagle's Talon for her by Bonaparte, I urge you to consider my proposition. As long as Bonaparte holds the reins of State, the peace of France will hang by a thread. He thirsts for glory. The thing that he calls glory is a condition main- tained by war. Violence is the basis of his power. He will involve France in a world- wide struggle, and appear before his fellow- citizens as a providential saviour. Listen to me, Moreau! We can halt him, we must fell him before he begins his murderous work. There is only one means of mastering him: Force. We must either kill him or drive him out of the country." A black frown drew Moreau's brows to- gether. He spoke in a harsh resolute voice : "Pichegru, do not talk to me of political assassination! I will not listen to you!" "I am not talking of assassination; I am talking of revolution. It must come soon if we would save France. While he is in power, we can do nothing. When the imperial crown is on his head, it will be too late! We must not dally; we must seize his power." Moreau's voice was stern. "I am neither a child nor a woman to be blinded by the glamour of a subterfuge. Speak out! What do you mean?" Bonaparte's Rival 83 "I do not contemplate a suppression of the Government," Pichegru answered easily. "My idea is to suppress the man ... to abduct and sequester him. We can seize him and give him into the hands of sure keepers. . . . They would do him no harm. Reflect! It is to save France. We will have him carried to the nearest port and sent to Sinnamary to join the men he has exiled. After that everything will be easy. Mean- while we can organise a new system. De- prived of its head, the military clique that governs us will be at our mercy. You are all powerful in the Senate. Your work will tell." Moreau was silent. Pichegru continued: "/ will drive the nail with my own hand. I reserve for my own part the work that will make us masters of the situation" Moreau reflected for an instant; then he said, rising as if to close the interview: "I must have time to think. The voice of our complaints and recriminations still echoes through the country, and you come to me with a plan of new and desperate action. I cannot give you my answer until I have studied the matter. I must consult my friends. I will meet you in Paris. Then I will speak." 84 The Eagle's Talon "Agreed," said Pichegru. "When shall we meet?" "You will hear from me as usual. I must consult my advisers. I shall be in Paris before evening. You will be there?" "At once. I am going back immediately." "Au revoir!" Pichegru went away through the golden haze of the silent morning, reached the wall of the park, and passed through the little door to the highway, anxious, far from assured by Moreau's promise to meet him in Paris. Until that moment Pichegru had kept secret the names of the men concerned in the plot to remove the Consul. He had feared that to give Moreau a clear idea of the truth would be to turn the determined and disin- terested patriot from all contemplation of an alliance with the enemies of Bonaparte. But the time to act had come, the decisive step must be taken. Moreau must be told, and Pichegru had decided that the simplest way of making his revelation would be to force him to face the worst at once by bringing him into the presence of Rividre, Polignac, and Cadoudal. Forced to answer ' ' Yes " or " No, " Moreau would take his chances on a restora- tion of the monarchy, or he would turn his Bonaparte's Rival 85 back on the Royalists. Without the support of Moreau's authority, the chances of success would be lessened by more than half ; but even that would be better than uncertainty. Means could still be found to abduct the Consul. The crucial step would be taken, whether Moreau were willing or not. There would be a short period of disorder in the governmental business, and then bold men, the men of the hour, would seize the power and dominate the country. Pichegru had meant from the outset to conceal his own part in the matter, and to stand aloof from compromising action. He knew that he should be forced to appear as Moreau's colleague when the time came to issue the call to the army. He knew that violence must precede the manifesto, that the ground must be broken by the removal of Bonaparte, that there could be no seizure of governmental power before Bonaparte had been made to disappear. Having bade adieu to Pichegru, Moreau walked slowly across the lawn to the chateau. On that morning the usually powerful charm of his lovely country home made no impression upon his mind. Burning rancour had effaced his gentle gratitude to life. He thought of the humiliation of his return from Hohenlinden, 86 The Eagle's Talon when Bonaparte had forestalled his glory. When a night's march from Paris, the con- queror of Hohenlinden had bivouacked for the last time before his return to the city of his love. Surrounded by his sleeping army, he had looked up to the stars and returned thanks for his victory. He knew the people; he had seen them welcome conquerors, and now he was the conqueror, and he and no other was to receive their welcome. In a vision he saw it all: the marching army, the green plain, and the tricolour against the sky. He heard the bugles, the long, light roll of the little drums, and the shout of the multitude: "Long live Moreau, conqueror of Hohenlinden!" He lived it all in anticipation, lying wide awake, aglow with grateful pride, and as he lay there with face to the stars, his orderly announced the arrival of Berthier, who had been sent to talk to him before he reached Paris. . . . Berthier, bearing a message from the Consul! Bonaparte, through Berthier, announced that he, Bonaparte, would review the returning army. Bonaparte was to receive the accla- mations of Paris ... he had refused to let Moreau review his own men. He had stripped Moreau of his glory; and he had done it, not frankly and openly, but under the hypocritical Bonaparte's Rival 87 pretence of celebrating the return of the con- queror . . . under pretence of doing honour to Moreau. Skirting the pond and crossing the close-cropped lawns, Moreau remembered his indignant disappointment, the outburst of his wife's childish grief, the sententious judg- ment of his mother-in-law, and the rude answer sent to Bonaparte through Berthier. Though conscious of his own powerlessness, he, Moreau, had repulsed Berthier with all the strength of his indignation. " Tell Bonaparte' 1 he had said to Berthier, "that as I did not attempt to review the Army of Italy when he returned from Marengo, I shall not trouble him to review my army! 11 The accentuated animosity of the two military heads of France had produced the revolution; but Moreau, less adroit than his rival, had accepted the tutelage of his rival the 1 8th Brumaire. He had gone still further, and pointed out Bonaparte as the only man capable of overthrowing the Directorate. He was the one to blame; with his own hands he had pushed Bonaparte before the people and designated him as the strong spirit fitted by nature to rule the nation. Slowly, with eyes fixed on the still surface of the pond, he crossed the lawn in a silence 88 The Eagle's Talon broken only by the liquid cry of a solitary swan. He thought of his young wife. How easy it would have been to have raised her to the highest place in the gift of the people, the place occupied by Josephine, the false wife, the vain mother of the mature children of Beauharnais! Yes, he might have risen to power, he might have led France to her own best good! Yet he had stood aside and let the Corsican supersede him. Josephine de- tested the young wife of the leader of the Army of Germany as intensely as she dreaded the keen sight and sarcastic smile of the elder woman of Moreau's household. The per- petual exhibition of the animosity of the Creole wife of the Consul, and the Creole wife and mother-in-law of the conqueror of Hohenlinden, increased the enmity of the two strong minds well fitted to work together for the good of France. Through a door opening directly above the flower beds Moreau entered the chateau. His wife and her mother were in his cabinet await- ing his coming. Moreau, an excellent hus- band and devoted son-in-law, kept nothing secret from the two women. "Well?" asked the young wife with fond interest. Bonaparte's Rival 89 "Well," answered Moreau, "I finished my despatches. So that is off my mind. . . . Pichegru has been here. I have had a serious talk with him. ... I do not trust him. He will have to give me substantial guaranties before I let him see my plans." "You are right, mon ami," answered his wife. "He has everything to gain, while you can do nothing but lose by dealing with him. He knows well that it rehabilitates him even to be seen with you for one moment." "He needs rehabilitation," Moreau an- swered, smiling at her enthusiasm. "He is talked about; but that will not be detrimental to our cause. He will be all the bolder for that." "Do not compromise yourself," said the elder woman. "Be careful! I am always trembling from fear that the Corsican may set a trap for you." "He may. To do that would not be be- neath him. But if he should, he would not get Pichegru to come to me. Bonaparte has put out feelers. His agents have sounded me more than once. He would be glad enough if he could get me." "Get you?" repeated Mme. Moreau. "What could he expect from you? You 90 The Eagle's Talon could not stoop to rank with Murat and Lannes! You are Bonaparte's equal in every way; ... in many ways his superior." Moreau kissed the pink palms of her little hands. "How could I be both equal and superior?" he laughed. "Jesting apart, Bonaparte is a really great man; we all know that." "And so are you, Moreau," said his mother- in-law. "You are a really great man and he knows it; and if he cannot force you to serve him, he will do his best to get rid of you." "I shall not serve him; on the contrary, I shall struggle with him for the freedom of France." "You mean . . . ?" the elder woman asked eagerly. "Just this! . . . They are planning to make him the Emperor of France." " Emperor? Bonaparte Emperor? That mangy little Corsican? They would look well on the throne he and his old wife! Could you face shame like that? A woman guilty of every known levity ... to say nothing of the unknown ones! a woman with teeth so black that she fears to smile! What a carnival! . . . Will you stand tamely by and face a situation of that species, you, Bonaparte's Rival 91 a Republican, . . . you who have led one hundred thousand men into the jaws of death? . . . He is no strategist, he makes war in corners . . . plays hide-and-seek with the enemy! . . . Conqueror of Marengo indeed !" "He barely escaped on that occasion," chimed in the young wife. "He had only four battalions there!" "Why was he so eager to make peace?" clamoured the mother. "Because you were at the gates of Vienna; because he knew that you and none other had won the day!" "He made peace to prevent you from enter- ing Austria as its conqueror! " cried the younger woman. ' ' He has never acted fairly by you ! ' ' "Moreau," cried the elder woman, "to let that man mount the throne is to dishonour your name!" "Oh, these deuced women!" groaned Moreau, beside himself. "Dishonour my name? What have / to do with it? Will it be my fault ! Do you want me to bestride his road and brandish my arms as I should at a runaway horse? I will do it if you tell me to. I will stake my head upon the chances! But, / warn you: if I fail he will kill me! By your ambition, and by your misconception of my duty, you will force me to my doom!" 9? His wife cast herself upon his breast. Her mother said in a subdued voice: "No one is more eager to urge prudence than the two women who love you, son-in-law. But it galls my soul to think of the Corsican on the throne." "He or another! ' exclaimed Moreau. "What difference does it make who brings the evil? I want no king! My aim is to serve the Republic." 1 ' Ah, Moreau, ' ' sighed the elder lady. ' ' You alone are noble and true! You only are worthy to rule the State and to lead the army. The people know it. Call your men together; let your army choose! Be- tween Bonaparte, who thinks of nothing but himself, and you, who care for noth- ing but the nation's good, they cannot hesitate." "How little you know of men," said Moreau, with a pitying smile. "The people will follow the man who can make promises and keep them. Soldiers, the heroes of the battlefield, will sell their souls for the hiccoughs of vanity." "Then upon whom can you depend?" "Upon myself." His wife gazed upon him with fond pride. Bonaparte's Rival 93 Her cheeks flamed, and Moreau, as deep in love as on his wedding day, kissed the eyes so full of adoring confidence in his omni- potence. CHAPTER V A SUMMONS FROM THE CONSUL r "PHAT same evening Pichegru, powdered, * perfumed, and disguised in the dress of a dandy, boldly entered the chief resort of the aristocratic world of Paris: Frascati, the only gambling establishment in the city to which ladies were admitted. The pavilion stood at the corner of the rue Richelieu and the boulevard. At Frascati the gamblers played trente-et-quarante, roulette, and the English thimble-game of two dice-boxes, Creps or krabb. Balls and suppers were given in the perfectly appointed halls of the pavilion, and the gardens were examples of the fine art of the landscape gardening of the Directorate. Pichegru, who had halted, seized by the faery aspect of the place, approached the house and looked in at a window. Facing the window and near it, with back turned to the great lustre, the Marquis de Crescenti sat at faro. In response to the insistent mental 94 A Summons from the Consul 95 call of the dandy, he raised his eyes, saw the Republican General and recognised him, and pocketing his gold, saluted the company and passed out into the garden. In silence the two men retired to the deep shadow of a grove. Pichegru, soldierly even in his fop- pish dress, and Crescenti, slender and boyish, his delicately outlined face wearing a look of profound melancholy, stood with faces turned toward the pavilion. "Eh, Marquis," was Pichegru's greeting, "you were winning. Fate is kind to you. She is a woman, therefore like all women she loves you; and talking of love, how is the ravishingly pretty little widow?" "My luck, General?" Crescenti said, evad- ing the personal question; "eh, well, we take what is given when it is given. Who knows where we shall be to-morrow?" "We shall be at the head of the govern- ment, if we play our part boldly." Crescenti sighed: "It is not boldness that we lack." "Nor endurance!" said Pichegru bitterly. "But enough on that subject! ... I came here to tell you that I must see Cadoudal. I have news for him." "If it means action, he will welcome it. 96 The Eagle's Talon He is sick of hiding in a loft; he is a man habi- tuated to life in the open air." "When does he come out? " asked Pichegru. "At dead of night, disguised. You might go to his lodgings; but he is cautious. He must not compromise the people who are hiding him, nor does he wish to give Bona- parte the pleasure of hanging him. Is your business urgent?" "It is. I must see him at once." "I will arrange a meeting. Be at the en- trance to the Champs-Elysees to-morrow night at ten o'clock." "I shall be there. Let us hope that some- thing will come of the meeting. This life is in- tolerable stagnation. . . . And you, Marquis, how do you manage to consume your time?" " I am at work for the cause, but in point of fact, I do nothing. I pass my evenings at play." "Frascati is full of spies." "Yes, but Frascati, like Tivoli, is neutral ground where fighting is impossible. How do you live, General? You, too, are in a perilous position or has Bonaparte ceased to interest himself in your movements?" Pichegru twisted the curled ends of his moustache. A Summons from the Consul 97 "Bonaparte has enough to do to cover his own projects. His chief object is to pacify the people. If Cadoudal would renounce the princes ... if he could be persuaded to consider a position under the Consulate to speak right out, Marquis, if you could be per- suaded to forget or to smother your Royalist scruples " 1 ' Say no more ! ' ' broke in Crescenti. ' ' Bona- parte would pass the sponge over a great deal. But to contemplate a thing of that sort is not possible to a man of principle. If the impos- sible could be possible, what could a Chouan gain by playing false to the cause? Bona- parte would be a bad master; he would give the good positions to his flatterers. He likes to surround himself with safe people, people mentally inferior to him. We are not Junots, or Berthiers, or Durocs, therefore we stand firm. I shall do my duty to the throne and to my manhood." "You will gain nothing by your heroism. Should our scheme fail, Bonaparte will attain his aim. Even Brittany will submit to the magnetic power of his will. In that event there can be but one end to the Chouans' leaders: death." A pale smile swept the face of the young 98 The Eagle's Talon Chouan . ' ' Eh, bien! ' ' he said . "In one way or in another what matters it?" Passing out of the garden, the dandy strolled down the boulevard. Crescenti en- tered the house, traversed the greater salons, and reached a small, circular room, ceiled and lined with Louis XVI. sculptured wood. In this room, furnished with divans uphol- stered with figured silk, three women and two men sat at a round table. The women all remarkable for their beauty and notable for their talent were the brilliant widow Citizen Sinclair, Mile. Raucourt, an illustrious actress, and a pale girl with languishing eyes. Deeply engaged in conversation, the group took no note of the presence of Crescenti. Laying a protecting hand on the young girl's shoulder, Mile. Raucourt said, in a high- pitched, melodious voice: "Yes, my little George must reign alone at the Comedie-Frangaise. Who can dispute her supremacy? Not old Duchesnois with her pug nose and wheeze! It will be much more agreeable for Talma to play with a young and pretty girl than with his present pursy partner, a creature who quacks her lines like an incapacitated duck. The stage needs A Summons from the Consul 99 actors who can give their acts the semblance of life ; and another detail that demands study is costume ; the costume ought to fit the lines. Greek heroes do not wear Louis XVI. costumes and powdered wigs." "Oh," exclaimed Sapieha. "But to do what you suggest one must be perfect." Raucourt rapped the table with the ends of her fingers. "Talma does not find it so impossible? He shaves his head and dons a toga when he plays Nero; and his voice is the voice of a man. Why, may I ask, must an actor bleat like a lamb and bellow like a bull? Why can he not talk on the stage as he talks in life? Let him awake to the fact that his art is to imitate nature, and he will run less risk of making himself ridiculous." " Certes/" lisped Lucien Bonaparte. "My brother the Consul has emitted the same opinion." "Naturally," said the Prince. "Bonaparte is a realist; he has no imagination." "Imagination has nothing to do with it!" said Raucourt. "The Consul has a sense of the True and the Beautiful. He applauded Georgette furiously, last night." A cloud darkened the face of Sapieha. Lu- ioo The Eagle's Talon cien shifted his position and nervously plucked at the roots of his finger-nails. Crescenti had taken a seat near the group ; he profited by the silence that followed Raucourt's tactless men- tion of the Consul's conspicuous manifesta- tion, to join in the conversation. He looked from one of the two jealous men to the other, and said, with a mischievous glance at Wem- mer, and with a pronounced Italian accent: "Eh, the Signer Consul! He is so distinctly of Italian origin that he shows it even in his tastes!" The young widow turned with a fond smile to greet her lover. "Ah, Crescenti," she said, "how you love your Signer Consul! You are a fanatic on that subject; you are glad of an excuse for defending him." "In point of fact," said Lucien, "we are true Italians. There was a Bonaparte at the court of the Medici. We passed over to Corsica with the Genoese. But from that hour we have been Corsicans and sworn enemies of Paoli. Our mother defended herself against his partisans, sword in hand." "Sounds like a romance," mused Crescenti. "There is no romance about it," declared Lucien hotly. "Italy belongs to my brother; he has proved it." A Summons from the Consul 101 "He conquered it," said Sapieha with a sour smile. "But that is no proof that it belongs to him." The little actress sat like a curious and indifferent young cat, between her two howling pretenders. Mile. Raucourt interposed hur- riedly: "Conquered it! Indeed yes! and by a miracle of bold courage. And he will go further; he will rule the world. A seer pre- dicted it. Josephine too was promised some- thing of the kind." The pale girl bit her lip. "I too am to reign," she pouted. "Mile. Lenormand told me that I should be a queen." "You are a queen, my charmer," said Sapieha. "You reign in our hearts and on the stage." "She did not mean that!" was the pettish answer. "She was speaking of effective, material power. I am to be a queen!" "So you are, ma belle!" laughed Lucien. " My brother shall conquer a kingdom for me and I will marry you." ' ' Stupid sot ! " cried the girl. ' ' You are not free to marry! You know it and all Paris knows it!" A man of medium height in chamois iO2 The Eagle's Talon breeches and a coat with a collar so high that it hid the lower part of his face, approached the table and bowed before the pretty widow. He started at sight of Lucien Bonaparte and bowed still lower to hide his face. "Madame," he said, "I must speak to you instantly." Nodding and smiling to the Marquis de Crescenti, Sinclair followed the newcomer into the deep embrasure of a window. "The sight of Lucien Bonaparte confused me," said the man familiarly. "Should he recognise me it would go ill with me." "No fear!" said the Countess. "He is thinking of something very different ; his love "My errand strikes the death-blow to his projects. I have come for her." "What?" exclaimed Mme. Sinclair, "do you mean little Wemmer?" "Yes, Wemmer. The Consul saw her on the stage last night. I am under orders to take her to Saint-Cloud." "It is nearly midnight." "The hour has nothing to do with it. She must come with me." "And if she should refuse?" He smiled. "She will not refuse." A Summons from the Consul 103 "It is possible. She has just told us that it was predicted that she will reign." "She will as a queen of the left hand. Make haste, citizen. Persuade your pullet as soon as possible. My carriage is on the boulevard. I have no time to lose. My orders are peremptory." When ten steps from the door, the messen- ger turned and gliding rapidly over the mirror- like floor, crossed the path of the widow. "One moment, citizen," he murmured. "Let me beg of you to come with us to Saint- Cloud. Fournier is on duty to-night ; he will be inexpressibly grateful to me if I bring you." "I thank you," she answered with a haughty backward movement of her head. "If Wem- mer will consent to go with you, I will conduct her to the carriage." "Citizen," Crescenti whispered, bending toward her as she approached the table, "I was mad through jealousy ! One moment more and I should have rushed to the attack." " You jealous!" she murmured fondly. "Do not be ridiculous." "Then you do love me," he whispered. 1 ' Then I do love you ! " she mocked. ' ' But just this once, Angiolo, I must go home alone. 104 The Eagle's Talon Help me to do my work; do not follow me." She permitted him to press his lips to her little wrist; then, attracting the attention of the group, she said to Wemmer : "I am going home, Georginette; come with me." Calm and indifferent, Mile. Wemmer arose. Mile. Raucourt prepared to follow her. "And what shall we do?" asked Prince Sapieha. "Go to the table with Crescenti; he will play late. Emulate his discretion. To at- tempt to enforce the acceptance of an un- welcome presence is indiscreet." "Men stronger than I am or ever shall be have obeyed the bidding of this frail tyrant!" Lucien said with a grimace. "I too obey. But I shall not play to-night. When my sun sets, I too disappear." The widow turned and said resolutely: "Citizen Bonaparte, do not attempt to follow Mile. Wemmer; she is going home with me, and I am in no mood for company." The three young women passed through the corridor to the vestiary and into the street. Fifty feet from Frascati, on the boulevard, Sinclair said to the girl : "Georgette, the man who called me away A Summons from the Consul 105 from you just now brought a message from the Consul." The girl blushed, drooped her eyes, and asked: "What does he wish?" "He has sent for you. You are to go to the palace of Saint-Cloud at once." "What, at twelve o'clock at night? Why should I go to Saint-Cloud at this hour?" "Because the master of France has sent for you. His carriage is waiting. You see it!" "I do not fancy the caprices of men!" "It may be love." "Love? Could he love me so suddenly? " "Just so suddenly the lightning strikes." Mile. Raucourt had listened in silence. She put her arm around the slim waist of the girl, who was little more than a child. "And what more natural?" she asked. " He saw you last night in your pretty costume ; he drank in your beauty with full lips; and to-night he sends for you that he may tell you how dearly he loves you. It is not his habit to defer victory." "Ought I to obey him?" "It is his right to order." "It is not his right to order hearts, either to love or not to love!" 106 The Eagle's Talon "Why cavil, Georgetta?" asked Mme. Sinclair. "Have you any reason for refusing his love? Do you love another? " "Thank heaven, no! I love no one; but this abrupt summons shocks me. I find it indelicate." "Go to Saint-Cloud and tell him so. You are not bound to accept his love. But as he is the master of France, you are bound to be respectful. He is the Consul, and he has issued imperative orders. Go, therefore, to the palace, thank him for his admiration if it pleases you to do so. And if it pleases you to do so, refuse his love." "But I am not dressed." "There has been no reference to a formal or dress function. The Consul has sent a trusted emissary with a very comfortable carriage to take you to Saint-Cloud. The man received orders to return to the palace immediately; yet he is waiting. You must decide at once. Will you go to Saint-Cloud? Yes, or no?" "I will go," the girl answered. "Mile. Lenormand predicted that I should reign." With a haughty gesture she crossed the walk, followed by the two women. The man waiting beside the carriage opened A Summons from the Consul 107 the door, the young actress entered, and the man closed the door and mounted to the seat beside the coachman. "Bonne nuit!" cried Raucourt; and the carriage, drawn by swift horses, disappeared in the darkness. CHAPTER VI AFFAIRS OF STATE AND OF THE HEART \ A7HEN Bonaparte was at Saint-Cloud, * the estafettes were on foot, wheels were rolling, and half the night was like the day; therefore noise did not disturb the sleeping chateau. Bonaparte sat at his desk late into the night. Josephine retired to her apart- ments. The Consul's own apartments were impenetrable. No one entered their outer corridor without special permission. On one side of the salon the aides-de-camp barred the main door. On the opposite side Rou- stam guarded the inner corridor. On the night in question, late in the evening, Caulaincourt, who had returned from secret business in Russia, visited the Consul and made his report; and after his departure Bonaparte locked himself into his cabinet with Berthier to discuss the formation of an army train. Tormented by the disorder resulting in panic caused by the civil convoy during the campaign in Germany, Bonaparte had deter- 108 Affairs of State and Heart 109 mined to take no more civilians into the field. But the formation of an army train was a formidable undertaking, demanding thou- sands of horses, and the cavalry had drawn heavily on the resources of the horse-breeders. The work required serious study and calcula- tion. Berthier sat at a little round table, arranging his papers. Bonaparte said : "Something must be done to stimulate the breeders to action, not only in Normandy but all through Merlerault. We must offer prizes for fine specimens. One of our best cavalry colonels must go to Germany. Send Mont- brun or Lasalle. My opinion is that we should choose Mecklenburg stallions. The Norman horse is fiery, the Mecklenburg is soft and gentle; but he gallops. The cross ought to give a good, light horse. We must have the best; our new arm must be worthy of the army. Pick your men carefully. The escorts must do brilliant work in battle." Berthier sorted and stacked his papers : "Be tranquil, General, I shall follow your orders to the letter." After a short silence Berthier said : 11 Did you notice, Consul, that at the review yesterday morning, the troops cried : Long live the Emperor! Did you hear them? " i io The Eagle's Talon "I heard them. Did they shout spontane- ously or were they prompted by their officers?" "They shouted because they love you. Their chiefs would have stopped their mouths had they foreseen the act. Lannes is an out- spoken Republican ; Ney, Soult, Massena, and Jourdan aim to keep free from politics." "Well, Berthier, the feeling, if it is feeling, is logical. The army needs a sovereign, and so does France. It must have a chief, either in one form or in another. It has had one since the time of the Franks. Public senti- ment dates from the Franks. The French populace is a Frankish horde." He paced the floor with head bowed. "We shall have to come to it; the common interest demands it. There can be no rest for the country until it is well understood that there is no hope for the rebels. The people's instinct is sure. They desire an emperor. Our only means of repose is to create one for them. But when I think of the chain of centuries . . . from Charlemagne! It is a superhuman task." "Yes," said Berthier, "but every radical reform or amelioration of importance demands painful effort. The army sees clear; the army is the practical mind of the country. "At the review yesterday morning, the troops cried: 'Long live the Emperor!' " Affairs of State and Heart in Your men know that war would assure the fame of France, and crown your authority." With eyes flaming, Bonaparte planted him- self firmly before Berthier: "/ do not want war! Let England disarm and go her way. All that I ask is to be allowed to carry on my work. My aim is to build up the fortune of France by means of the arts, commerce, and industry, and to assure pro- gress by refounding the administration, and by inscribing the reforms accomplished by the Revolution in a code similar to Justinian's jurisprudence. We have hard work before us. Everything in France must be either created or repaired canals, city gates, roads. We must have sidewalks ; the men and women who run through Paris to and from their work must have as dry a path as I can give them. . . . How can I compass it? The coach- entrances make alignment difficult. How- ever, I shall find a way. We must have good walks. The Louvre is in a bad condition. The slaughter-houses must be overhauled. . . . The people are brave and faithful. I must do my duty by them. All that is the work of a life well spent, and he who carries it out to per- fection will leave a luminous track in history." "I know it," said Berthier. " The work is ii2 The Eagle's Talon sublime. But if you take it upon yourself you will shoulder Europe: a horde of self- seekers, stipended by the gold of the merchants of Paris. England will not disarm." Bonaparte's blue eyes sparkled. "Then let her take the consequences! I will crush her power right in London; I will repeat the work of Hastings plain. . . . But to do that I must have a navy. The Royalists have lost the fleet to France ! We must have ships and men; and it is easier to build ships than to find men to guide them." His reflections were interrupted by the messenger sent to Paris to conduct Wemmer. The man entered and stood at attention before the conqueror. "In which room is she?" asked Bonaparte. " She is in the little room opposite the garden of the orange trees." Bonaparte turned to Berthier. "Take your papers away; I will sign them to-morrow." Preceded by Constant, his messenger and guard, the Consul passed through a long cor- ridor to the apartment used by him when he worked all night and feared to disturb Jose- phine. His own bed was in an apartment shared by his wife. Affairs of State and Heart 113 Constant opened a door and Bonaparte saw the girl, Wemmer, seated but still wearing her hat and mantle. Constant closed the door and returned to his post at the end of the corridor, and Bonaparte asked, smiling: "Why have you not put aside your hat and mantle? I hoped to see you in Iphigenia's veil. I love you best in that. Take off those heavy things at once!" Well pleased by the auspicious beginning of her interview, the girl put off her hat and mantle, and sat up very straight and prim, with the bright light of the many-candled chandelier on her piquant face and white, finely-moulded shoulders. "That is better," Bonaparte said with a caressing glance. "Do you like me?" the girl asked. "If I did not, you would not be here." He took her large hand in his own nervous hand, examined it with a disparaging curl of his lip, and with a quick, impatient move- ment nipped her skirt between his thumb and forefinger and revealed her large foot. "You have unpleasing feet and hands," he said; "had your inferior members been like your face and your form you might have rivalled Diana." Noting the change in her ii4 The Eagle's Talon expression. ' ' Come ! Come ! " he said author- itatively. "Do not pout! it is one o'clock. Let us sup." "I am not hungry," she answered, blushing from mortification. "You have driven away my appetite." "Your appetite will return! Approach the table, instantly!" he ordered. Like a frightened child she obeyed; and without concerning himself as to her comfort, he dipped into all the dishes, put on his own plate a small quantity of everything on the table, and stirring and tasting one little heap after the other, ordered his guest to help herself. He took no notice of the fact that, distressed in her vanity, she made no attempt to partake of the viands provided for the feast. Astonished by his lack of gallantry, resentful but awe-struck, she stole a glance at his singularly attractive face. He had cast off his official mask and assumed the appearance of young Bonaparte, the lieuten- ant of Auxonne. With proud grace, moved by an irresistible impulse, the girl arose and putting her arms around the head of the conqueror, pressed a long, grave kiss upon his forehead, and laughing like a child, seated herself beside him. Affairs of State and Heart 115 "You order me, my lord, and I obey," she said with a shadow of her habitual air of independence. Taking no notice of her caress Bonaparte busied himself with his supper. His eyes roved from his plate to the uncovered and practically untouched dishes. "You will do well to obey," he said. "Continue to do so and you will be wise. I shall be pleased with you as long as you re- main simple and natural. I hate prudes as I hate coquettes and bold women. Be kind, simple, and obedient. Should I send for you, it will be because I need to be dis- tracted from cares of State. Bend your inclinations to my will and I shall be satis- fied." He attacked the wing of a chicken, ate rapidly, and then, suddenly changing his tone, asked: "What has become of your ugly enemy, old Duchesnois?" " Her ugliness did not seem to stand in your way." He laughed. "No, I liked her wit; her voice is agreeable. When I saw her on the stage, she pleased me. I saw her in real life denuded of her talent, and her face reminded me of my wife's poodle." "Perhaps you will say the same of me!" n6 The Eagle's Talon He turned upon her and with a meaning look asked: "Are you expecting anything of that kind? " "No," she said proudly. "I am expecting something very different." "How old are you, my little goddess?" "I am seventeen years old." "And though so young, a Sappho for lovers!" "You are abominable!" she said blushing. "Mais non, mais non! It is common talk. You have lovers. . . . Sapieha is one of them.' "I could be a princess if I would. I could marry Sapieha." "If you could marry my brother Lucien, you would have nothing; he is a Republican; he hates titles; but you cannot marry him; he has a wife." "So have you, General, but she does not seem to be much of a hindrance." "Little Mask! You have an answer for everything; do you know it?" " Ma vie! General Bonaparte, I think that I know nothing! Doubtless I should have known more had I refused to come here to- night. Do not talk to me of Lucien ; I do not want to think of him. I have trouble enough at the theatre!" Affairs of State and Heart 117 "I will tell Talma to make it easy for you." "That will not prevent your wife's courtiers from hissing me." As if the mention of the object had invoked its presence, two light taps sounded on the door and a voice cried : "Bonaparte, mon ami, Bonaparte!" "Peste!" growled Bonaparte, springing from his chair. "There she is at present running through the corridors! What is Roustam doing, I should like to know ! Stay where you are, Georgette, she will soon be gone." But Josephine was not eager to be gone. She called again and with more insistence: "Bonaparte, I know that you are there; answer instantly or I will enter, despite your guard!" "She would do it!" whispered Bonaparte. "I must go to her." He found Roustam motionless, guarding the closed door. "Open to Mme. Bonaparte," he ordered. "Then hasten to conduct the young person to the carriage. You will find Constant waiting." Roustam opened the door and Josephine, robed for the night, entered. ii8 The Eagle's Talon "Bonaparte!" she cried. " Mon ami! I was terrified ; I had a dream ; I saw you in the hands of the rebels . . . assassins . . . they were beside your bed." He looked steadily into her great, appealing eyes, and under his frowning brows his blue eyes turned black. "That is folly!" he sneered. "You have begun again! Once more I am forced to bear the humiliation of your jealousy. Is it decent to run through the corridors of Saint-Cloud in a night-robe, candle in hand, knocking at doors and calling Bonaparte? You make me ridiculous." As was her wont, she fixed her great dark eyes upon him and burst into tears. Bona- parte could not look upon his wife's tearful eyes unmoved. Either a freak of his nervous sensibility, or habit formed in the days of his adoring love, made it impossible for him to witness the real or assumed grief of the one woman who betrayed him. After the brutal revelation following his return from Egypt, he had determined to break all connection with her. But even then, in the hour of his awakening to her treachery, her tear-stained face and her sobs had moved him to pardon her. Though he thought of Wemmer as he Affairs of State and Heart 119 thought of all the women who seized his fancy, he clasped the little hands outstretched in real or affected supplication, and drawing the weeping woman to a seat beside him, "See how foolish you are," he murmured. "You make scenes to torment me when my brain is reeling under the weight of care. I cannot do my duty to France and at the same time support your caprices. I cannot plan cam- paigns when you break in upon my strategic labours; and what discipline can I maintain in the army when you force my orderlies to disobey orders? Be reasonable, go to your bed, and let me do my work." "But," she sobbed, "you were not at work; you were talking to a woman. I knew it intuitively as I always know it." "Josephine," he said, gently stroking her trembling hands, "you are doing me an in- justice. I worked hard all the evening, then Caulaincourt came in; before he finished his report, Berthier came to talk to me about a new military arm. Then Constant served my supper." "Supper!" she cried. "You were at sup- per!" "Certainly I was at supper. When I work late, I must be stimulated." i2o The Eagle's Talon "Let me see the table. Let me see how many were to assist at your stimulation." "The table is laid for two. I had invited Duroc " She cut his words: "You had not invited Duroc! You had invited a woman!" Her shrill cry worried his sick nerves. "Be still, Josephine!" he urged. "If I cared to sup with women, I could meet them in Paris." "To do that would give trouble. You like to receive them in your home." Her eyes flashed. Looking wildly in his eyes, "Do not stoop to falsehood!" she cried. "You know that you would not run risks; you are too careful of your name. The spies follow you. Moreau would hear it!" she sobbed. Bonaparte put his arm around her heaving shoulders. "You have had Grassini here! Oh, I will kill that woman!" "A fine example for Europe!" Bonaparte said with bitter emphasis. "Excellent mate- rial for the English caricaturists. I must remind you that you are no longer the widow of Beauharnais; you are the wife of the First Consul of France. They are talking of an empire. Great responsibilities demand de- Affairs of State and Heart 121 corum." She sobbed with the hollow in- tonations of the voice of a grieved child. "Josephine," he implored with lover-like ar- dour, "be good! Go to your apartment. I will finish my work and follow you." "Let me see the table!" she persisted. Bonaparte knew that Wemmer had escaped. Tenderly conducting his wife, "See, then, in- corrigible silly," he said; "prove with your own eyes that what your husband tells you is true." And like the father of a family who desires nothing but to maintain the peace of the domestic centre, he led his wife into the little room. CHAPTER VII THE DISGUISED VISITOR , an army contractor notori- ous for speculations successfully carried on at the expense of the well-being of the army during the campaign of Italy, had devoted a part of the fortune made from re- victualling the troops after the siege of Genoa to the acquisition of real estate. One of his investments was the manorial property of the ancient family of de Montbazon. The grounds comprised a park, which ran from the faubourg Saint-Honor6 to the Champs-Elys6es, and surrounded the palatial residence known as the h6tel de Montbazon: splendid setting for the bourgeois vulgarity of the trader in shoddy and dried meats. The palace opened on two streets: the faubourg Saint-Honore and the Champs-Ely sees . In the superb dwelling where the beautiful favourite of the Duke de Beaufort had aired her graces, surrounded by an army of servitors, Gorgeret lived his life according to his light, 122 The Disguised Visitor 123 maintaining his solitary state by aid of a scullion and a cook, a body servant, and a man of ignoble birth and morose character, who ruled the empty stables formerly tenanted by blooded horses, and in rusty brown coat and breeches, his head but half covered by a small hat of shiny black leather, conducted his master to and from his business in the only vehicle of the establishment, a cab, fit adjunct to its leader, a sorrel pacer. The ancient palace de Montbazon had been re- stored by Percier. The main entrance was a porte-cochere or carriage way. The door on the opposite side of the house opened on the Champs-Elysees. Twice a week the contractor received his intimate friends at dinner. Various intriguers had laid their plans in the banquet hall under the auspices of Gorgeret; there Moreau had met Liebert and senators opposed to Bona- parte, and in an upper apartment of the old palace, Pichegru had hidden from the police eight days. Late in the afternoon of the day following Pichegru's visit to Gros-Bois, when Gorgeret sat at his table, dictating to his accountant and comparing invoices covering his consign- ments to the commissariat of the army of 124 The Eagle's Talon Paris, the maid -of -all -work announced a visitor. "What does he want?" snarled Gorgeret. "I do not know." "You could not find out, could you? You had to break in upon my work!" "I asked him; he refused to tell me. He says that his business is with you." "Show him in." An instant later the girl, rolling her bare arms in her apron, appeared, followed by a strap- ping, red-haired man in the dress of a coach- man. He stood before Gorgeret, hat in hand. "Well, my man," asked Gorgeret, "what is your business?" "This letter will tell you." Gorgeret read the letter and turning to his employe said, "Put away your work and go. Come at the usual hour to-morrow." He followed the clerk to the door and watched him pass through the gate and mingle with the crowds in the street. Then he closed and barred the door and returned to his visitor. "So you came from Pichegru? Well, how is he, and where is he?" "He is right here!" the man answered with an outburst of laughter. The Disguised Visitor 125 "General! Is it possible! You are un- recognisable." "I have proved that. I have faced Real's police all over the city. And now, old fel- low, let us get down to business. I shall be frank with you. I know that you are devoted to our cause, and that I can count on you." "You can, General; my life, my cash everything that I have is at your service." "I do not need all that. I shall ask for nothing but the loan of your house for one evening." "Make use of it as you see fit." "I am arranging a meeting between people who are ready to act for the overthrow of Bonaparte; a coalition bound by nothing but their hatred: generals who do not like to be governed by their former comrade and equal, and Royalists who are enraged by his usur- pation of authority. So far they have formed no concrete project ; each one has thought and acted for himself. They are plotting. I hope to organise them. My idea is a coup d'etat. The moment to bring them together has come. When they are face to face, they will be forced to avow their opinions; they will come to an understanding. On one point they are in 126 The Eagle's Talon harmony. There is not a man among them who does not desire the fall of Bonaparte." Gorgeret paled. "Even so?" he asked. "They can seize Bonaparte, or kill him. That would be easy ! But then what? Whom would they set up in his place? A Jacobin, a general, or a Chouan?" "You have put your finger in the wound! That is just what they must decide upon. But I am not going to bring a crowd of people to this house; that would arouse the suspicions of the police. There will be less that half a dozen. I shall call two Chouan partisans, you have seen them and two Republicans, Moreau and Lajolais." "Moreau," answered Gorgelet, "is a fine man; a noble, military figure. But Lajolais Lajolais is a schemer. His intrigues are known." 1 ' Exactly ! That is what we need. He will intrigue for us, as intermediary between the princes and the army. Moreau will obtain the co-operation of the Senate. It is probable that it would not be possible to hope for any- thing but that from him. That much we shall ask. If he accedes to our desires, he will be rewarded by the King when the monarchy is The Disguised Visitor 127 restored. His position will be so exalted that he will forget all else. Now Gorgeret, this is my plan: your house opens on two different streets. I will receive Moreau and Lajolais at the door on the faubourg side ; the Royalists will enter from the Champs-Elys6es. I shall be with Moreau and Lajolais. Order your valet to let us in. Three men may well make an evening call unnoticed. It is a common sight." Gorgeret rubbed his hands together and said with an unctuous roll of his under lip : "I myself will personally open the door to the Royalists. " "Bien! They will give the countersign: Biville-Londres. Let no one pass without it." "Bien, Bien! I shall remember." "At eight o'clock then, to-morrow night," said the General. " I need not say that I shall appreciate your hospitality. When the King comes back to his own, they who are more powerful than Pichegru will find ways to thank you." "Let them know that I am theirs, body and soul!" Pichegru bowed. "Enfinf" he said, "it will come. We are all waiting anxiously for the prince. One of these days he will cross the 128 The Eagle's Talon sea and place himself at the head of our army. He shall know your zeal, Gorgeret. He will reward you. But not one word of this not even to your mistress!" Gorgeret reared his head, his face glowed with pride. "Have you met her?" he asked. Pichegru laughed. "No, but I doubt not that you have one. Therefore I say: Beware! In enterprises like this, women are fatal." Gorgeret wagged his head. "I shall keep my mouth shut." When Pichegru had departed, Gorgeret returned to his cabinet. Thoughts of the re- sults of failure beset the torpid brain of the trafficker; but he drove away his fears. Glowing with the hot flush of his greed, lost in mental contemplation that never went beyond his own personal interests, the old man sat before his table, sunk in his easy chair with legs outstretched, until twilight turned to night and the twittering of the birds nested in the trees before his windows aroused him from his dreams. Later in the evening he visited the Countess and evaded all her ques- tions. He impressed her with the idea that the Royalists, baffled in their hopes, had ceased to scheme. He talked of the possible results The Disguised Visitor 129 of the gratitude of the princes ; but of Pichegru, Moreau, and Lajolais he said nothing. His mind seemed to be fixed upon his personal business. When taking leave, he begged to be permitted to absent himself on the follow- ing evening. He explained his work: invoices and letters covering his consignments to the army of Boulogne. After his departure the Countess summoned a fiacre and visited Frascati. The Marquis de Crescenti was at his post at the green table, and the calm expression of his sensitive face deepened the impression made upon her mind by the conversation of Gorgeret. The Marquis de Crescenti was calm because he knew nothing of the progressing intrigue. Cadoudal could not tell his lieutenants what he did not know. He knew nothing of Piche- gru's schemes. De Polignac and de Riviere were as ignorant as Cadoudal of the meet- ing announced in the name of Moreau. The plan of the rendezvous in the h6tel de Mont- bazon was so wholly a secret that the keen and watchful police had no suspicion of the work in passionate progress in various chan- nels. Fouch6, the only man capable of finding the ends of the threads tangled in the snarl 130 The Eagle's Talon of the intrigue against the Consul, had vague suspicions, but he had been relieved from offi- cial duty, and he had no right to interfere with the work of his successor. Stimulated by Bonaparte, whose instincts warned him of the dangers threatening him, Real had sent out his spies. There had been trouble in Morbihan, where Cadoudal had made efforts to increase the enthusiasm of his zealous partisans. Bonaparte had detailed Savary to spy out the land, and the shrewd and devoted Colonel, disguised as a peasant, had passed eight weeks strolling through the country. He had returned to Paris and as- sured the Consul that he had nothing to fear in Morbihan. But despite the assurances given to the Consul, Savary was ill at ease. A thorough search had convinced him that Cadoudal was not in Brittany or Normandy. He, the Chouan, had sailed from France. Savary 's watch of the sea had been incessant. Cadoudal was not in England; he must be in France. But where had he landed? Fouch6, awake to all possibilities, believed that Cadoudal had entered Paris. Although the deposed minister had been relieved of his right to act, his anxiety for the peace of France impelled him to go to the Tuileries The Disguised Visitor 131 and warn Bonaparte to be careful. Fouch6 suspected the Jacobins. Bonaparte sus- pected the Royalists. He had been informed that the Duke de Bern and one of the princes of Cond6 had planned to enter France, call out the army, and attempt a coup d'etat; and, exasperated, he had declared in a loud voice that the first Royalist found on French ground should be shot. He had taken his preliminary steps. Savary, with the consular gendarmes, was encamped at Biville. Vigilant and patient, always on the lookout over the sea, he saw the boat known to the people of the ports as "Wright's craft," plying daily between Dieppe and Treport, as if awaiting an opportunity to land. The brig was a familiar sight ; she had ferried the Royalists from one country to the other, and carried the English carbines used by de Frotte's men to kill the Blues on the roads of Normandy. Savary, searching the waters with a powerful glass, saw that the brig made no attempt to land. She came in sight in the morning, and in the twilight returned to the high seas. CHAPTER VIII FOUCHE'S OPPORTUNITY NE soft afternoon, when the wind, blowing from the south, filled the air of Paris with the odours of the wine market, Bracon- neau, drowsy from his long chase of the previous night, sat at a table in the caf6 de la Regence, playing chess with " old Dazincourt," the Crispin of the Comedie-Frangaise, when Lerebourg entered, sat down at a table, and called for a bavaroise, an infusion of tea with syrup, valued by the Parisians as a mild stimulant. Braconneau, who frequented the cafe disguised as a bourgeois, was known to the chess players, the waiters, and the cashier as "Laverniere," a man who lived on the interest of his money. After twenty minutes of deep study, Laverniere protected his castle and checkmated his adversary. Making an impatient movement, Dazincourt rose from the table. " Well," he exclaimed, "that ends my trifling for to-day, Laverniere! If a man lacks pa- 132 Braconneau, drowsy from his long chase of the previous night, sat at a table in the Cafe de la Rdgence, playing chess with ' old Dazincourt.' " Fouch's Opportunity 133 tience, let him come tola Regence and play with you!" ' ' Must you go so soon? " drawled Lavernidre. ' ' Yes, we rehearse at this hour. I must hold Talma in check. Fancy his appearing with bare arms in a toga! The man is shameful and disgusting; his impulses are deleterious. "Yet the ancient Romans " began Braconneau. "Ancient Rome has nothing to do with the French stage ! ' ' interrupted Dazincourt . ' ' We are in Paris in the year 1804. Such excesses are easily explained by the fact that France is entering an epoch of decadence. Our stage, with everything about us, is retrograding." Ten minutes later Braconneau took his hat and cane, rapped the table with a coin to sum- mon the waiter, strolled to the table where Lerebourg sat, and greeting the milliner and dressmaker sat down. "Well Lerebourg," he said, "what is it?" "We cannot talk here. Come into the garden." In the garden of the Palais-Royal, where the children, guarded by gossiping nurses, were at play, the spies could talk unheard and unobserved. "I have seen Montmoran," said Lerebourg. 134 The Eagle's Talon " She came to my shop to tell me that Cadoudal is in Paris." "Did she tell you about his lurking place?" "No, he has not been seen; but Coster de Saint-Victor plays daily at Frascati, and as Coster never strays far from Cadoudal, by watching Coster we can lay hands on Georges." Braconneau squared his shoulders and grinned. "Fouch6 will rejoice. Did she tell you where Coster lodges?" "Yes. He is living with a girlish widow. You must have seen her. Virginie Sinclair." Braconneau shook his head. ' 'I do not know her. Is she one of the girls?" "Far from it. She is respectable . . . lives in her own house." "Absolutely impeccable, eh?" " Not precisely. She is maintained in afflu- ence by Lou vet, the millionaire feather mer- chant . . . has one devoted lover, Colonel Founder of the consular cavalry of the Court household." "And Saint- Victor, where did she get him?" "At Frascati, probably . . . she loves him; poor fool! her devotion is pathetic." "And Coster?" "He is very skilfully disguised as an Italian nobleman; he passes for the Marquis Angiolo Fouch's Opportunity 135 de Crescenti. He plays nightly, and with insolent luck, at Frascati." "Tresbien! And Sinclair. . . . What does she do?" "She too passes her evenings at Frascati to be near him, probably. She is on terms of intimacy with Raucourt, the high stepping pacer of the Comedie-Frangaise a woman of all the vices! and with the little beauty, George Wemmer." ' ' Wemmer ! ' ' ejaculated Braconneau. ' ' She is the firefly that lured Lucien Bonaparte into the marches! Bonaparte and Wemmer, Sin- clair and Saint-Victor By heaven, a pretty plot!" "Yes," said Lerebourg, "but I doubt if they have thought of it." Braconneau said: "I must make a note of it; they might reach the Consul through Lucien." " But," said Lerebourg, "I did not come here to discuss Lucien's gallantries. I came to tell you that you are expected to shadow Crescenti. Make efforts to ingratiate yourself. Win his confidence." "I will do so. It will not be easy. The fellow knows me." "So do I know you; but I recognise you 136 The Eagle's Talon through your disguises only by the voice you have habituated me to consider your natural organ of speech." Braconneau smiled. "It is my natural voice, Lerebourg. You heard it when I lay sick unto death in la Pitie. However, it is true that I have a few talents for disguises, and in this case I need them; for Coster de Saint- Victor has power to hide his identity from his own mother." "You will find him at Frascati. Mme. Sinclair's house is in the rue Richelieu, No. 12." "Does she know who he is?" 1 ' Not she ! She believes that he is Crescenti, an Italian Marquis." " Coster de Saint-Victor is brave and true," said Braconneau. "He is a man. I would fight for him rather than against him. But I must do my duty to Fouch6, not to the hand- some boy! I shall report at once." "To Real?" "To Real? No, to Fouch6. Fouche alone is worthy to receive reports; he only is fit to head our service." Lerebourg's face darkened. "Your Fouch6 is a devil! He will go to any lengths to bring men to justice." "Only in the public interest. I have known Fouch's Opportunity 137 him to spare his personal enemies. At times he is kind and generous." Deep in thought, Braconneau entered the palatial residence of the deposed Minister of Police. Fouche, who counted on returning to the ministry, kept open house and lived surrounded by his political friends. Intro- duced by the guard, Braconneau found his chief revising his private accounts. When Braconneau entered, he put aside his papers. "Citizen Minister," Braconneau began, "I am convinced that Cadoudal is in Paris. Coster de Saint- Victor is here." "Can you lay hands on him?" "Yes. Shall I arrest him? " "Do nothing of the kind. Watch him; do not lose sight of him." "I shall take the scent to-night." " Not a word to Real ! He would do some- thing to scare our birds." "I am not working for citizen Real," the spy said drily. "I attend strictly to my own business, and my business is yours." "I know it, Braconneau, I shall remember it." " I am not working for pay, citizen Minister," 138 The Eagle's Talon said Braconneau, "I work for you because I like good work. Citizen Ral is a bungler." Fouche smiled. To test his chief's knowl- edge of current events and to lead up to the plot against the Consul, Braconneau said: "The girl who read to Mme. Murat has been sent away. She was so sure of her power that she placed her brother in the consular guard, as colonel. Bonaparte was infuriated by the liberty. He had begun to tire of her imperfections. He seized her temerity as a pretext, pensioned, and banished her. So the uncontrollable anxieties of the Consular incumbent may rest." "Not in this life!" said Fouch6. "It is a case of relays; the little star of the Comedie, Iphigenia, visited Saint-Cloud recently!" Braconneau stood before his chief lost in thought: Wemmer, Sinclair; Saint-Victor, Bonaparte. "Marked for removal," he said to himself. "If he does not know it now, ... he may learn it at any minute. What more natural than that Wemmer should tell Sinclair even more than she has told her, and that Sinclair should chatter to her lover!" Braconneau knew that Cadoudal worked swiftly and boldly, and that, given information, Fouch's Opportunity 139 he would act. Fouche saw that the mind of his pet detective was at work. After he had given Braconneau time to think, he asked : "What is Moreau doing? It is my impres- sion that the Jacobins are contemplating revolt. They hate the Consul. Lucien is a sly, two-faced rascal; he is lenient to his brother's enemies a mean, critical, under- handed schemer!" Braconneau was silent. Fouch6 continued : "He thinks, and so does Joseph, that he is more capable than Bonaparte. He has an idea that he helped his brother into power, and he is not so far from the truth as to that. Bonaparte was not quite equal to his situation. If Lucien had not called out the grenadiers, and if Murat had not been fired with the idea that he ought to kill every one, who knows how it would have ended?" "Who knows?" said Braconneau. "But," Fouche added with a thin smile, "Lucien Bonaparte did not carry out the campaign of Italy!" "However that may have been," said the detective, "I know nothing new concerning Moreau. That he is discontented every one knows." "I know more than that," said Fouch6. 140 The Eagle's Talon "I know that he is plotting against the Government." Braconneau laughed. "Then Bonaparte is between two fires: on one hand the Royalists; on the other hand the Revolutionists ! ' ' "Both sides are bent on causing the Consul to disappear," said Fouche. "That being the case, they might unite. If they should do that and if I could catch them at it, my return to the ministry would be attended by glory." "Moreau is peculiar," said the detective. "I consider it far from probable that he could lend himself to any scheme. But he is bitter against Bonaparte, and hatred is a hard driver. I must look at the matter." Fouch6 took a package of banknotes and rolls of louis from the drawer of his table. "Here," said he, "take money. You cannot work on nothing. You may have to hire important agents. Call on me at any hour, day or night." He nodded, smiled, and turned to his work. Braconneau went into the street, where the children were at play in the golden light of the setting sun. On the benches the women of the people sat at their knitting and their mending. He passed through the gardens, Fouch's Opportunity 141 his mind busy with Fouche's suggestion: If Moreau could overcome his scruples ... if the Royalists should join hands on the dis- appearance proposition His thoughts were busy with the subject when he passed through the rue Richelieu to the boulevard and entered Frascati. CHAPTER IX THE CONSPIRATORS GATHER WHILE Savary watched the sea, Cadoudal landed from an unsuspected quarter, went directly to Chaillot, and with Picot entered lodgings in a little house rented by the Marquis d'Hosier. A little later he worked his way to Paris, and took rooms in an apart- ment rented by a carpenter, named Spain. This last hiding-place communicated with the neighbouring property, and Cadoudal could reach a street apparently inaccessible from Spain's house, by passing over a fence and through a carriage-house. Cadoudal's life in Paris was almost unbearable. Even at dead of night he was forced to take precautions gal- ling to a man habituated to the freedom of long marches and to life on the wild moors; there- fore he received the invitation to meet Moreau with joy. He saw in the conference hope of ending his inaction. Saint-Victor delivered Pichegru's message, and Cadoudal arrived at the entrance to the 142 The Conspirators Gather 143 Champs-Elysees as the clocks in the neighbour- hood struck nine. De Riviere and de Polignac were equally prompt. Cadoudal, who lived with his two constant attendants, Picot and Taillard, detailed Picot to guard his lodgings, and went to the place of meeting, followed by Taillard. Like Taillard, Cadoudal carried two double-barrelled pistols and a large dagger. Bold and vigorous, either could easily have mastered three ordinary men. The night was dark. Not far from the little door in the wall, as they passed in the shadows, they were met by a tall man wrapped in a long black mantle Pichegru. "Good-evening, gentlemen," he said. "Let us enter at once." He knocked on the wall, the little door opened, and, one by one, they stepped over the high foot-bar and entered a large park where trees, the growth of centuries, surrounded lawns ornamented with beds of flowers whose perfume pervaded the night air. The man who had opened the door preceded them. Near the low-lying sheets of dim light, reverberated by the glass roofs of the hot- houses, they were met by Gorgeret, whose tongue, thickened by the intoxication of unusual importance, clave to the roof of his 144 The Eagle's Talon mouth. He had seated Count Armand de Polignac, General Moreau, and the Duke de Riviere in the salon, and hastened with swelling heart to greet Cadoudal, the repre- sentative and delegate of the princes. Trembling from fear of the possible conse- quences of his complicity, but exulting in his attitude as political intriguer, he threw open the door of his salon and introduced the Chouan chief and his orderly, Corporal Tail- lard, a man known to the armies of the King by his picturesque Chouan name: Brise-Bleu, "the blue gale from the sea." "Gentlemen," announced Gorgeret, "Lord Georges Cadoudal.' 1 The leader of the dissenting parties of the Republic arose and faced the Chouan, and Cadoudal, who respected the courage and the integrity of the conqueror of Hohenlinden said: "I am thankful that I have to deal with a man and not with that skinned cat of a Bonaparte." "Look out!" Moreau answered. "He is a cat whose claws are terrible!" "By your help we shall draw them," said Cadoudal. He cast a swift glance around the salon. Pichegru whispered to Gorgeret. The The Conspirators Gather 145 contractor tiptoed from the room, closing the door behind him, and the enemies of Bona- parte were alone. As if before his camp-fire, Cadoudal bestrode a chair. "Gentlemen," he said, "take your places!" De Riviere, standing, leaned against the marble mantel, and Taillard and de Polignac seated themselves at opposite ends of a long divan. Pichegru spoke: "We have met this evening, drawn together by a need felt by all, to take measures of defence against damaging projects conceived by Bonaparte ; measures which tend to nothing less than his dictatorship. The word Empire has been voiced. If we do not act at once, France will awake some morning, bound, gagged, and in the chains of this man who even now is called "the master of France." You know his projects; are you disposed to let him act." "No!" answered Cadoudal. "Not" "How can you prevent his execution of his plans?" "We shall cause him to disappear," de Riviere said softly. "How can that be done?" "General Cadoudal will tell you." At the words, "General Cadoudal," Moreau 146 The Eagle's Talon frowned. His old Republican spirit, and his respect for the military hierarchy, revolted at the enunciation of a title won by rebellion and brigandage. In his mind he saw his army of Germany, the people of Mayence who had fired upon the Chouans. Before him sat Taillard, who needed nothing but his goat- skin coat to be again Brise-Bleu, the whirlwind of destruction, the messenger of death. His heart beat strong with indignant wrath, but hatred of Bonaparte kept him silent. "Gentlemen," Cadoudal said, "if the propo- sitions that I made at different times had been accepted, Bonaparte would not to-day be usurping the nation's power. We should have been delivered from him three years ago. But as you, Monsieur de Riviere, re- member, I had to deal with politicians; men who chose the lesser means, the means justified by nothing but policy. My politicians made plots; they conceived plans that I did not approve. I felt no sympathy for the poniard of Ceracchi, nor for the infernal machine of poor Saint-Regeant. The majority favoured those means, and as a result France looked on hecatombs of victims of the pitiless wrath of the conqueror. General Pichegru escaped from his pestilential cell in Sinnamary by a " As if before his camp fire, Cadoudal bestrode a chair." The Conspirators Gather 147 miracle. The massacre of the boobies, who died from the explosion in the rue Saint- Nicaise, was brought about to consolidate the power of Bonaparte to make Bona- parte appear to France as the providential man to whom the nation had attached her destinies. Even at that time I could have saved the liberty of the country and had I carried out my project, France would have been free." "What was your project?" asked Moreau. "It was what it is to-day; and to-day I am just as ready to execute it. My soldiers are waiting for my call ; they are twenty tried men, the bravest of the Chasseurs of the King. They will be led by Coster de Saint- Victor, by Taillard, and by me. The uniforms of the dragoons are ready, the horses are in the stable. At Courbevoie, in a place belonging to one of our people, the troops sleep on their arms. I shall mount my men, place myself at their head, and wait for the Consul at the bridge of Boulogne. He crosses that bridge when he comes from Saint-Cloud. I will attack his escort in open daylight. I will overturn his carriage and blow out his brains, or pass my sabre through his body, and all will be over. It will be an ambush: a means recognised in 148 The Eagle's Talon war. I shall give him a fair fighting chance. He will have a better chance for life than I shall have. He is always armed; he will be surrounded by his guard, brave soldiers; and accompanied by his aides-de-camp. I do not fight defenceless men." His declaration was followed by a long silence. His words seemed to have terrified the men known to be fearless. Moreau sat with eyes fixed upon a flower in the carpet. De Riviere, impassible, stood with shoulder to the mantel-shelf, watching the dark face of the conqueror of Hohenlinden. Moreau, held at bay by inexplicable moral anguish, struggled to control his emotion. At last, unable to maintain his silence, he spoke: "Call it what you will, decorate your act with the most heroic of incidents, it will be murder. I am not an assassin. I shall not take part in it." "Who asked you to?" retorted Cadoudal. "Do I need you to do my work? No! I do it with my own hand! Your work will be to wait. You, with the mass of the people, will hear that Bonaparte is dead ; and then and not until then, shall I need you. Let us under- stand each other: Bonaparte will be dead, but his creatures will still hold the power. Junot, The Conspirators Gather 149 in command of Paris, will try to put Joseph or Lucien in the Consulate. "Never!" cried Moreau. "That shall not be!" "Good! On that point we agree. You do not want a Bonaparte. How shall you pre- vent his assumption of his brother's place? " "I shall mount my horse and, escorted by my generals and by other officers, I shall go before the Senate. In the Senate I shall be backed by a powerful party, and I shall cause the election of a new Consul." "And probably you count upon receiving that appointment," said de Rividre. "So be it, General. Now then, when you have attained power, what will your attitude be to the Royalist party and to the King?" "The King?" asked Moreau. "Do you refer to Monsieur the Count de Provence?" "I refer to his Majesty King Louis XVIII, the brother and the legitimate heir of Louis XVI." "He is in Poland." "We shall send for him. His return to France will follow close upon the death of Bonaparte." "And what will the people say? How will they receive him?" asked Moreau. "All the 150 The Eagle's Talon sufferings and all the mourning of the Revolu- tion lie between the departure of the princes and their return." "We have thought of that," said de Polig- nac. "Yes, the Revolution, the massacres, the destruction of all kinds, the blood poured out upon the scaffold, the insults to the Church and to the Christian conscience all that lies between the broken links. Bonaparte is called a saviour because he has established social order, stopped the massacres, and brought back the priests. But do not deceive yourselves. Bonaparte is still the Revolu- tion, and Europe has a horror of him and of the pernicious principles that he represents. Europe will not tolerate him. We must either suppress him or prevent him from mounting the throne. To do that we shall have to fight. The suppression of Bonaparte means another revolution, and a return of violence and anarchy. We must choose be- tween revolution and the restoration of royalty." "Royalty is impossible," said Moreau. "Disseminated and worn out though France is, it would take twenty years of war to force royalty upon her!" Cadoudal sprang to his feet furious, ready The Conspirators Gather 151 to provoke a fatal outburst. De Riviere's gesture warned him not to go too far. Con- trolling his anger, he said vehemently: "You are in gross error, General! The spirit of the French people is profoundly monarchical. Do not fancy for one moment that fifteen years of the Jacobin system have made France forget her centuries of respect for her king. A few thousand scoundrels have seized the public power and used it to terrorise the people; but we must not confound the swagger of gallows-birds with public opinion. Within one week's time after the restoration, the mind of France will be shaped to fit the new conditions, and the old institutions will be received with satisfaction. The people were not sorry when Robespierre fell; they wept for joy when the heads of Saint- Just and Couthon rolled in the sawdust. The day after the King takes his place upon the throne, the people will breathe free." "But the army?" asked Moreau. "The King will overwhelm the army with honours. The officers will rise in rank; the pay of the men will be increased ; and new and comfortable quarters will come to the armies as gifts from the crown." "And what about the vast legislative and 152 The Eagle's Talon financial administrative work of the Conven- tion?" asked Moreau. "That is the strong new armour-plate of the ship of State; it represents the liberty and the equality of the citizens of the Republic." "And who tells you," fumed Cadoudal, "that the King will change anything of all that? Royalists are not fools; they do not imagine that they can weave national institu- tions in a loom! They will accommodate their personal conceptions to present institu- tions, and strong paternal power will result from the combination of the new system modified by the old. You cannot suppose that we are counting on you to further a counter-revolution. Had any form of revo- lution been our aim, we should not have needed your co-operation." De Riviere supplemented CadoudaTs long harangue : "We called on you, General Moreau, be- cause we count on initiating France into a new and salutary order. We know your immuta- ble virtue and the firmness of your mind too well to ask you to betray the principles of your stainless life, or to deny your glorious past. You are not asked to renounce your opinions. You will serve the King as we shall The Conspirators Gather 153 serve him: willingly, because you will find in him not a tyrant, but one Frenchman more." To this artful statement Moreau made no answer. He rose, deeply agitated. His face wore an expression of intense anxiety. To all appearances he had forgotten the presence of the emissaries of the King. Cadoudal, as much troubled by his Royalist ardours as Moreau was troubled by his Republican doubts, sprang to his feet, and faced the conqueror. "Come, come, General Moreau!" he cried. "This cannot continue! The moment to choose your road has come. Will you march with us? Yes, or no?" "Never with you for the King!" declared the Republican. "Then you came here in your own interest! Your wish is to remove the Consul for the benefit of a renowned general officer of the consular army!" said the Chouan with peasant irony. "Do not hope to make us your dupes! To set Moreau upon the throne of Bonaparte would be small sport for us!" "There will be no reason for another meet- ing," Moreau answered, unmoved by the insult. "Therefore, I can do no more than to bid you good-night." 154 The Eagle's Talon "Eh, mais!" exploded Cadoudal. "Let us understand each other before you go! This thing must not be talked about! If you hint one word of what has passed to-night, you shall not escape me; I will drag you even from the heart of your army!" The shadow of a smile passed over the face of the Republican. And as if speaking to reassure a frightened child, he said : "I need not tell you that I shall not reveal the plans exposed in this place to-night. Good-evening, gentlemen." De Polignac and De Riviere bowed. Ri- viere left his place by the mantel, and opening the door, addressed Gorgeret, who had re- mained on guard to assure the conference of secrecy. "My dear host," said de Rividre, "please conduct us." Gorgeret with arms hanging bowed low. "This way, General," he said obsequiously. "I myself will let you out." Riviere, his fine head bare, the elegance of his evening dress shown by the silver light of the lustres, softly shaded for the circumstance, had attended the General to the door of the great vestibule. He cast a last questioning glance at the resolute face of the Republican. The Conspirators Gather 155 "General," he said, "we shall act at once. Remember that we shall welcome you if you come, even after we have attained complete success." "I thank you," Moreau answered. "My mind is immutable." They stood close together. Gorgeret, with head discreetly turned, was at the door. Moreau said: "I must tell you my real mind, citizen Riviere: Your hopes are vain. You have de- layed too long. The eagle has soared too high. You cannot halt his flight." He saluted and, preceded by Gorgeret, passed into the park. In the salon Riviere found Cadoudal a prey to the violence of his temper. "The sot!" he growled. "Vaunting his scruples! The Corsican was not so careful. We shall have twice the work without him that we should have had with him. But give me a free hand and I can manage it." "You must, since our Aristides refuses to abandon his republic. We have no means of turning him," said Polignac. "It will not take long, eh, Taillard?" Cadoudal said, turning to his corporal. Tail- lard did not speak, but a grin widened his 156 The Eagle's Talon mouth, his tanned cheek wrinkled, his hairy hands gripped his knees, and from between the gaping rows of his strong white teeth issued the long, whistling breath known to his Chouans as the signal to attack. " Ah, ha ! " cried Cadoudal. ' ' He thinks he is on the moor! Patience Brise-Bleu! they can hear as well on the road of Boulogne as on the road of Vannes!" His face darkened. "Gentlemen," he said, "we must come to a definite understanding as to our details." "As we are to march en famille," said de Polignac, "as we are to have no strangers with us, it will be easier and simpler." "But," said Pichegru, "before we can seize the Consul on the road, he must be on the road. He must be coming either from Saint- Cloud or from Malmaison ; at the present time he is in Paris. He arrived this morning." "He is always travelling," said Cadoudal. "He may be on the road to-morrow. I am told that he contemplates inspecting Ney's troops. I know his movements. I have a confederate of the first order in his house. His old wife, Josephine, is an aristocratic Creole whose circle of intimates is large. I hear from one of the favoured ones daily. The Conspirators Gather 157 I know the movements of the household. One hour after the Corsican decides upon depar- ture I shall know it, and I shall act in con- sequence." "Do you need us?" asked Pichegru. " In no way. I prefer to do my work alone. My men are used to me. They are turbulent, but they can act. No soldier could ask for better aids. If I cannot do the work alone, I shall have Taillard, and my lion, Coster de Saint-Victor." "Coster is a lion; I know him," said de Riviere. "He is equal to three common men. You two could hold your own against six others. But be careful! Bonaparte may have Rapp, Lasalle, and Murat with him, strong men! An affair of that kind is always doubtful. While you face them, their guard may fall on your chasseurs. Why not seize him in a house? I beg you wait two days; let me arrange it." "Another delay!" grumbled Cadoudal. "I have had too many of them. Give me a free hand and I will show you." "Wait two days longer." Cadoudal's face purpled. "I have a right to know what this means!" he said, his eyes glaring. 158 The Eagle's Talon "I will tell you. I think that I have a scheme worthy of consideration. Bonaparte has taken a fancy to a girl, an actress. She went to Saint-Cloud to meet him and their interview was interrupted by Josephine. Bonaparte likes the girl, and owing to his wife's jealousy, he cannot meet her at Saint- Cloud. The actress lives in a rented house. He cannot visit a place of that kind, because it is necessary to his magistral prestige to maintain the secret of his gallantry. He is searching for a suitable meeting-place. He will decide upon something soon. In case the chosen site is accessible to us and I see no reason why it should not be he can be removed without scandal. What do you think of it? Would it not serve our political purposes better to let him die at the slippered feet of a woman, during one of his lover-like escapades, than to give his death the character of martyrdom? " The question was received in deep silence. Not even Cadoudal dared to raise his voice against it. All recognised the fact that it would be by far better to fall upon the enemy during one of his disgraceful adventures. "Eh, bienl"sai6. Cadoudal, "I will wait two days." The Conspirators Gather 159 "And I," said Polignac, "shall go at once to Hartwell and prepare the Count d'Artois." "Probably he will return with you," said Cadoudal with bitter irony. De Riviere's lip curled. De Polignac ap- proached the mirror and arranged a disk of court-plaster to bring out the fresh colour of his cheek. "The dear princes!" he lisped. "Paris thrills with rumours concerning their return; even the Consul is anxious." "He may wait a while!" said Cadoudal. "It will be some time before they give out walking-papers. Our masters are not so ready to run risks. The Stuarts were dipped in different dye." "Oh, I don't know," said de Polignac, gnawing the ends of his moustache. "Nor I," said Pichegru. "Had it not been for Monk- "Ah, General," railed de Riviere, "are you awake! Your friend Moreau was not at all disposed to appear as our providence. He would not consent to act either as duke or viceroy!" "Probably he was safe enough in refusing, for as far as the 'recompense of the reward* is concerned, there will be none. If I am not 160 The Eagle's Talon in error, all the good positions have been promised," said Polignac. "Moreau," supplemented Pichegru, "never takes the initiative. He never takes the plunge, but if you throw him in the water, he swims. He never makes war, but when war comes, he fights." "Let him go!" exclaimed Cadoudal. "When we need his friends, we can get them." He arose, shook his heavy body, and pre- pared to take leave. "In forty-eight hours then, gentlemen, if I do not hear from you I shall act. Come, Taillard!" Followed by Brise-Bleu he went out into the night. CHAPTER X AN ARTFUL INQUISITOR HALF-RECLINING on an ottoman in the coquettishly-appointed boudoir of an upper suite of rooms in the h6tel de Fuiss6, the Countess de Montmoran, pouting, bored, and querulous, had abandoned her hand to her fat lover. Gorgeret sat on a gilded campstool close to the pretty woman, developing his tenderness with ill-timed fervour. With eyes obstinately fixed upon the frescoed ceiling, the Countess avoided his ardent gaze. "Really, Countess," he said with an ugly movement of his curly head, "you do not hear a word I say!" "On the contrary," she answered, "I am so unfortunate as to hear it all. Your words pall upon my ears, because I have heard them a thousand times. You are telling me that I am beautiful, that you adore me, and that your chief prayer is that I may consent to become your wife. All that might have the 161 1 62 The Eagle's Talon advantage of being news had I not heard it until I am sick of it! You confided your hopes and fears to me long ago. As for your present development, it is an oration that I am forced to hear whenever you set foot in my house." "You are wicked!" groaned Gorgeret. "You drive me to despair!" "I am not sorry to hear it," was the grave answer. "Your despair proves that you are not so wholly lost in your ingratitude that you have ceased to feel." "Ingratitude? You call me ungrateful? Oh, why do you talk so to me?" he asked, his eyes watering. "I live for you only ... I think of you all day, I dream of you. What would I not do could I persuade you to bear my name!" "Never!" she cried, wrenching her hand from his grasp. "Bear your name: Gorgeret! Name of a glutton, a man who nourishes his life by base exercise of his palate? Do not dare to ask me to be your wife until you have rid yourself of your plebeian name and ob- tained a title. Acquire the right to make me a countess or a marchioness, and I will listen to you." "That is impossible! Our infamous equali- An Artful Inquisitor 163 tarian government does not recognise the ancient titles ; how can we expect them to be- stow new titles? Bonaparte will never create nobles. I might go to Austria and buy parchments there; but I should not dare to exhibit them in France." "Then bring back the King! What are your friends thinking of to go so slow?" "Ah," said Gorgeret with a mysterious air. "They are not as sluggish as you think them! " "Ah, ha! You are conspiring!" she said, changing her irritability for an air of kittenish coquetry. "Tell me all about it, my fat Machiavelli." "What can I say, Countess? I have no- thing to tell." "Are you afraid to trust me?" "No! but I have sworn to keep the secret." "There are no secrets from me in this head," she said gaily, nestling close to his side. " Tell me about it. Has Georges Cadoudal decided to fire Paris?" "No, he considers the people of Paris sub- jects of King Louis XVIII." "But he has decided to get rid of their tyrant, hein?" Gorgeret bowed his head and lowered his eyes. 164 The Eagle's Talon "Why do you not answer me? Probably they want to abduct him is that it?" The contractor heaved a sigh. " Athanase," whispered the Countess, "if you love me, answer me!" "It will cost me my head if they know it," groaned Gorgeret. "Those people are ter- rible!" "Terrible for Bonaparte not terrible for you if you do your duty. They are not terrible for me; I love them." She rolled her pretty head against his arm. "Ah, Athanase," she said, "you are hiding something from your little wife. Tell me, wicked one! What projects have you under these silken curls?" "What can I tell you?" asked the en- amoured man. "Do not keep me waiting; answer me." "But I have sworn " She put her hand over his mouth. "I '11 wager one of my pretty rings that they are plotting against Bonaparte!" He did not answer. "They will abduct him, is that it?" She bent over him and laying her head upon his breast, looked up into his eyes. "Ah, but ' ' There are no secrets from me in this head,' she said gaily, nestling close to his side." An Artful Inquisitor 165 Athanase," she murmured, "to abduct the Consul would be dangerous! You are not involved in the plot, I hope!" He sighed. "Answer me !" ordered the Countess. " An- swer me instantly!" "It will cost me my life if it is known," gasped Gorgeret. "They are terrible!" "Terrible for Bonaparte, not terrible for us!" "You are with us heart and soul," Gorgeret said weakly. "I am a Vendeenne. Not a Chouan in Brittany but knows my name!" "Ah, why may I not tell them about you? Why have you forbidden me to speak your name?" "You are a child or you would not ask me! I am as weak as water where you are concerned, but I must be strong enough to protect you, since you will not protect yourself. We are to be man and wife, are we not?" "We are, most beautiful and beloved of women." "Well, then, is it not better that they should not know that you have married your mistress?" "Yes, you are right; you are always right." 1 66 The Eagle's Talon "If you think so, confide in me. You are afraid to trust me!" "How can you say such things?" "If it is not true, confide in me!" "Swear that you will not tell!" "I swear." Gorgeret shuddered, his eyes rolled, and putting his mouth to her ear, he said in a hoarse whisper: "They are going to trap him in my house. He loves a girl. She is going to meet him there, and they will seize him." "Who is the girl?" "They did not tell me." "They treat you like a subaltern." "Could you know who is coming to that meeting, you would not say so." "Chouans?" "And others." "People of the Government?" "No, enemies of the Government. Repub- licans." "Is Moreau one of them?" "I did not say so." "He is, I know it! ... and who else?" "Pichegru." She rolled her head against his cheek. "And who else, Royalists?" "Cadoudal, the Duke de Riviere, Count An Artful Inquisitor 167 Armand de Polignac, and a fellow called Brise-Bleu." " Brise-Bleu ! " said the Countess, white as death. ' ' That is Taillard, Cadoudal's orderly. ' ' "*Do you know him?" asked Gorgeret. " I have seen him. Go on with your story." Gorgeret continued: "If we are successful in our schemes, I shall have a title to lay at these little feet. "Tut, tut," she said, gazing into his dull eyes. "I am giving you too much liberty. Do not think of the future; talk to me of the present; speak to me about your conference. You were telling me how they are to enter by one door and escape by the other." "Did I say that?" ' "Yes, so you said. And when will your trap be set?" "We do not know. Bonaparte is in the palace of Saint-Cloud; we cannot work until he comes to Paris." The Countess escaped from his arms. Sink- ing into her deep-eared chair, she sat with buskined feet crossed, chin in hand. Deep set in their dark hollows, her eyes gleamed with the fire of hatred. Her lips drew back from her sharp white teeth, and her delicate face assumed a look of pitiless cruelty. Gorgeret 1 68 The Eagle's Talon gazed with terror at the strange creature, who from a caressing woman had turned to a gorgon. "What is it?" he stammered. "What are you thinking of?" "Of my past. Your story has awakened memories." Suddenly changing her expression, she seemed to forget the information given by him in his weakness. She plied him with questions. And in his surprise at her strange interest in his military business, he forgot that he had betrayed his secret. CHAPTER XI A PLOT AND ITS VICTIMS the day following Gorgeret's confession, Bonaparte, attended by his court, re- turned to the Tuileries. His return was noted by the daily papers, and the flag floating over the central pavilion signalled his presence. Fouche was among his first visitors. Bonaparte was in his cabinet with Bour- rienne when an aide-de-camp knocked at the door. Bonaparte nodded to show Bourrienne that he had heard the knock, and continued to dictate his letters, pacing the floor and, as was his constant habit when thinking, scratch- ing the edge of his left sleeve with the tips of his fingers. One letter followed another, and another. The correspondence would have continued indefinitely had not Bourrienne said in the peculiarly coaxing tone of affection used by the young generals when speaking to their chief and comrade: " But, General, had you forgotten Fouche? " 169 170 The Eagle's Talon "Fouche!" said Bonaparte. "You are right, I must go to him." The ex-minister was waiting in the salon of Bonaparte's private suite of rooms. "Good -day, citizen Fouche," said Bona- parte. ' ' You have news ? ' ' "Yes, General Consul. Cadoudal is in Paris with his servant, Joseph Picot, and Coster de Saint- Victor." "I know it," the Consul answered drily. "Real told me that yesterday." "Did he tell you also that Generals Piche- gru and Moreau are conspiring with him?" "Moreau!" Bonaparte's pale face turned still paler. "He hates me, but I will not believe that he could conspire against me with the Chouans!" "And what do you say of Pichegru?" "As far as he is concerned, I can believe anything. Pichegru is completely out of his course. The man is a moral wreck. But I will not believe it about Moreau!" "Ah?" "What proof have you?" "I can get proof." "I cannot believe it! Moreau! the man who stood by me the i8th Brumaire!" "That is the one thing that he cannot for- A Plot and its Victims 171 give. Had he not stood by you on that occa- sion, he, as he supposes, would hold the power to-day." "But I did all that I could do for him," said Bonaparte. "I gave him the largest and the bravest of my armies; I kept nothing for myself, but the little army of the reserve the few men who fought at Marengo." "Moreau met Cadoudal by appointment," said Fouche. "That is a fact that cannot be changed by any amount of reasoning." "What did he decide to do?" Bonaparte asked. "Did he think that I ought to die? ... The Chouans mean to kill me; that much I know. . . . But I never can believe that Moreau " Both men were standing. Fouch6 grey of face and dim of eye, studied the pallid face and drooping shoulders before him. "You are confident, General," he said. "And you, citizen Fouche, are suspicious." "It is my business to be so." "You used to defend the Jacobins." "Because I thought them innocent of evil to the State." " And now you do not think them innocent? ' ' "They are plotting." "Led by whom?" 172 The Eagle's Talon "By incorrigible revolutionists; men who are furious because they are not allowed to gamble in public places; they who in former times ignored the law and held the people in terror." "Their time is past." "They believe that your removal will restore their liberty of action. They see clear ; they know that the Consulate is march- ing with forced speed to the Empire acclaimed by your soldiery." "The army acclaims the Empire because the nation demands it." "Possibly. But if lieutenants of your army grumble, why should a certain General conceal his personal regret?" "My lieutenants may grumble, but they love me and they are faithful. Lannes would die for me. Ney is a frondeur, a chronic agitator and critic of everything in the ad- ministration, but he loves me; Bessidres, Augereau, Soult, and Davout are true." "And Bernadotte?" "Ah! that one! He is plotting, I know it! He has opposed me always. Even at Marengo I doubted him. If he had not been my brother Joseph's brother-in-law, I should have sent him before a court martial long ago." A Plot and its Victims 173 "The police served you well on that occa- sion," said Fouche. " But it is the way of the world, something quite of the natural order, that man should forget! The greatest, the most supreme of human intelligences, are those least mindful of services rendered." "Citizen Fouche!" "General, I am not speaking of you. You did not punish me for serving you faithfully: therefore I ought to be thankful. If one of the bullets that crossed near the village of San Juliano had killed you before Desaix arrived, I should have had to do nothing but fold my arms to change the face of Europe. But I had faith in your destiny. I warned your brother Joseph. And now I am in disgrace!" Bonaparte paced the floor. After meditat- ing twenty minutes, he wheeled and faced Fouch6, who had remained on foot throughout the interview. Darting a flaming look of command at the passionless face of the deposed minister, "You have told me that you have proofs of Moreau's connivance with Georges Cadoudal," he said. "Bring them to me." He had given no word of promise. But his look, his voice, and the circumstances author- ised Fouche to indulge in ambitious hopes. 174 The Eagle's Talon He bowed before Bonaparte and answered in the voice of a man speaking of an ordinary matter: "General, you shall have them." Bonaparte returned to Bourrienne, and pac- ing the floor and plucking at his sleeve, resumed his dictation. Toward evening he finished his correspondence. His faculties were keen; he knew nothing of mental fatigue; but his daily task was done; all the letters to be sent were piled on Bourrienne's desk. Standing by the open window, Bourrienne looked out upon the terrace of the Tuileries. The sun was set- ting in a purple haze, and the tops of the old trees, where the doves were settling for the night, gleamed like polished bronze. Duroc opened the door. He took from his breast a knot of grey ribbon and gave it to the Consul. "Is the young person here?" asked Bona- parte. "She is in my office awaiting orders." "It is not known that she is here?" "Her entrance was not observed." Bonaparte passed through the map room where the geographer, Bacler d'Albe, sat at his drawings, and went up the narrow stairs leading to Josephine's apartments, passed the door, and went up another flight of stairs. A Plot and its Victims 175 Duroc, who had accompanied him, opened the door of his own room. The Countess de Montmoran sat before the window. Co- quetry in a young and pretty woman appealed to Bonaparte. Mme. de Montmoran was dressed in fine India muslin. Her scarf had dropped to her waist and her beautiful arms and neck were bare. A pale blue turban of sheer silk muslin, trimmed with a rosette of pale blue tulle fastened at the centre by a splendid sapphire, crowned her graceful head and shaded her piquant face and soft brown eyes. Her little feet were in blue satin bus- kins. She sat in the fading light, silent and motionless, a seductive figure. When the door opened, she turned and made a movement as if to rise. "Remain seated!" ordered Bonaparte. "You are too pretty as you are, to disturb the harmony of the scene by any concession to etiquette!" Duroc had disappeared. Bonaparte drew a chair close to the chair in which the Countess was seated, and asked abruptly: "Well, have you brought me news?" "Yes, General Consul, news of supreme importance." Hearing nothing but her peculiarly sweet i?6 The Eagle's Talon voice, and seeing nothing but the beauty of her charming face and form, Bonaparte drew his chair still closer and laid his hand on one of the hands but half concealed by fine white silken mittens. Holding the little hand in his strong grasp, he turned it as a bird charmer turns a bird, and with the thumb and fore- finger of his left hand, gently explored it from wrist to finger tip, and from the rounded, softly swelling back to the warm palm. " Countess," he said, "you have a charming hand. How old are you?" She reddened with anger. "General," she asked, "with what are you busying yourself? At risk of my life I have come here to warn you of mortal danger!" "I am grateful," he answered. "But is that a reason why I should not recognise your right to my admiration? You are beautiful, and whether my life is in danger or not, I have eyes and senses, and I use them." His gallantry annoyed her. His indiffer- ence to his peril threatened to jeopardise the success of her enterprise. The thought that he had taken her for an adventuress bent on the exploitation of her charms aroused all her resistance. Bonaparte was notable for his generosity. Women aspired to please him. A Plot and its Victims 177 "It may be that he thinks that my aim is to tempt his fancy," she said to herself. "I will show him that I can spurn the favour of a conqueror! He may be master of France; he shall not be my master!" Indignant at his misconception of her efforts, she drew her hand rudely from his resisting grasp. "Instead of playing the gallant, General Bonaparte," she said, her face assuming a look of determined severity, "be kind enough to think of your obligations to France. Your enemies are preparing to kill you; and I have come here to give you means to foil their plans." His thin lip curled as always when he was angry. "You are very disdainful of the favours that many in your position would solicit!" he said. "If you do not wish me to admire you, why have you displayed your arms and shoulders?" "I came here to save your life; is that a reason why I should appear in a blanket? Really, General, you have a pronounced mania for conquest. It makes no difference to you whether your conquest is an army or a woman!" i;8 The Eagle's Talon The conqueror of Arcola raised his eyes to the saucy face of his visitor. "Your capacity for raillery proves the excellence of your race," he said with sententious emphasis. "I am listening. When I have given you the atten- tion that you demand, it is possible that you will consent to forget your political pre- occupations to the advantage of questions more appropriate to the natural impulses of woman." She smiled and answered with a look of defiance: "When my political impulses give place to what it pleases you to class among the more natural impulses, I shall know that my transformation is approved by the high author- ity of a powerful political State. And now, General Consul, may I tell you why I came here to-night?" "Speak, citizen," he said, "I am listening." "Before I speak I must ask you to give me your word that you will protect the person to whom I owe my information. Twenty- four hours ago your enemies Chouans and Jacobins met in a house in Paris. The man who owns the house informed me of the facts." "What is his name?" "Gorgeret." A Plot and its Victims 179 "Ah, that one? the man Barras decorated with the descriptive title of 'glutton'! . . . I remember him, an army contractor. . . . Acquired his fortune by trafficking in aliment- ary products . . . fed poison to the troops." His face darkened ; he sprang to his feet, and with hands behind his back, paced the floor. "All that must be reformed! ..." He stopped before the chair where the Countess sat awaiting his attention. "Well then, Countess, they met at this fellow Gorgeret's! . . . Who were they?" "Georges Cadoudal, Riviere, Pichegru, de Polignac, and Moreau." "You are sure of it?" "Absolutely." "Moreau was there?" "Moreau, Pichegru, Polignac, Rividre . . . and others." " Others? Who were they? " "Inferior men . . . low fellows who, with all connected with them, will fall into your net." "What did they talk about?" "They planned to entice you to Gorgeret's house to meet the girl whose interview at Saint-Cloud was cut short." Intensely suspicious, and of a mind exces- i8o The Eagle's Talon sively clairvoyant, Bonaparte controlled his impulse to think aloud. "I must act at once," he said to himself. "Now that I know their plans, I can take them right there, in their own trap." Night was falling. Here and there the stars were coming into sight. Bonaparte raised his eyes and saluted his own bright, far-off planet. At the same moment the sentries in the boxes on the quay reversed arms, and the drums of the consular guard beat the retreat. In Duroc's room, where the strange pair sat, the outlines of the fur- niture were barely discernible. The Countess said: "And now I have told you all that it is important for you to know. The conspirators will lure you to Gorgeret's house, and there they will kill you." Bonaparte spoke as if ready to end the interview. "You have rendered inestimable service in bringing me this information." "Do not be too grateful," said Montmoran. "I hate Cadoudal and his aids. By exter- minating them you will gratify my ardent hopes." He peered curiously into her set face. "That much, if it concerns my interests at A Plot and its Victims 181 all, does not satisfy my indebtedness to you. I shall be ready to accord you any favour within my gift." "Eh, General," she said laughing, "you were ready to accord your favours before I proved my power to render service. I shall remember it. ' ' " You are a strong woman," Bonaparte said, advancing to the door. "You have a mind above coquetry, something quite new in my experience." "The General Consul is a most competent critic," she said mischievously. "But now, one last word: Be careful!" Standing with his hand upon the doorknob, he fell into a reverie, and according to his habit, lost consciousness of his surroundings and voiced his thoughts: "The girl is the bait! . . . But how QO they get hold of her? The plot was laid by Sapieha, or by Lucien vain fop! Their motive is jealousy; they love her." "Do not look so high, General," murmured the Countess, who stood close to the door ready to pass out. "George Wemmer is sur- rounded by intriguers. Her confidential friend, a widow, loves a man who passes for an Italian nobleman, Marquis de Crescenti, but who is Coster de Saint-Victor. This widow, Citizen 1 82 The Eagle's Talon Sinclair, is a cat's-paw for Crescenti, and both are intimate with Raucourt and Wemmer. The two actresses, the old one and the young one, are searching for a safe place for your meeting with the pretty girl. La Sinclair, act- ing by advice of Coster, has chosen Gorgeret's house for the meeting. You know the plan; shape it as you see fit." Bonaparte opened the door and called to Duroc, who had remained on guard: "Conduct Mme. the Countess to the Court of the Carrousel." "I thank you, General," she said, "my carriage awaits me." Bonaparte went down the stairs, through the map room where the geographer still sat at work. The palace had been lighted and in the Consul's own apartment, in dinner dress, attended by Hortense Beauharnais and Caro- line Murat, Josephine sat, amiable and lan- guid, awaiting her husband. Caroline cried gaily: "This is the seventh chicken sent to the spit while we waited for you." Bonaparte, calm and in excellent humour, greeted his family one by one, gave Hortense a paternal kiss, and, served by Roustam, sat down to his dinner. " In the Consul's own apartment, in dinner dress, attended by Hortense Beauharnais and Caroline Murat, Josephine sat." CHAPTER XII LOVE AND PERIL EARLY in the morning Bonaparte sum- moned Fouche. All night his busy brain had been at work. He realised that in the short course of a few hours he had entered into confidential relations with a woman of whose character he knew nothing. Who was she? Whence had she come? How far could he trust in her co-operation? He knew that Fouche's memory held everything that had related to the police and to the army. He knew that Fouche kept a register of the spies and a record of their acts. He knew that Real, though a man of strict probity, was less capable by far of good work than was Fouche. Informed of Fouche's arrival, the Consul, who had been at work in his cabinet, went into his private salon. As usual the face of the ex- oratorian was calm and serious but indifferent. "Citizen Fouche," said Bonaparte. "I have had grave news. Your suspicions con- cerning Moreau have been confirmed." 183 184 The Eagle's Talon Fouch6 stood before the Consul silent. "I know," pursued Bonaparte, "that Moreau is plotting with the Jacobins." Fouch6 raised his head and made an em- phatic gesture of denial. "Ah? You think not?" "I know it. Moreau, Cadoudal, and others met. They offered Moreau an exalted posi- tion under the King. He refused to treat with them." "Are you sure of it?" "I was told so by a man of Moreau's house- hold. The news came from General Lajolais." "Lajolais!" exclaimed Bonaparte. "An intriguer! A man dismissed from the service! What did he say?" "He said that he had received his informa- tion from Liebert." ' ' Anoth er intriguer ! ' ' "He said that Moreau refused to serve the princes in any capacity. According to the story told to me, Moreau said that any step taken by him would be taken in his own interest." "Did Moreau think that I ought to die?" "My information did not cover that point. Nothing was said about your death." "Is that all?" Love and Peril 185 "I know/' pursued FouchS, "that citizen Real is at this moment searching the prisons for men condemned for work in the cause of the Chouannerie. Spies have been placed in cells communicating with the cells of the Chouan suspects. Savary is watching the cliff at Biville, but his surveillance is useless because the Royalists have changed their landing place. They now enter by way of Belgium or Germany. In the duchy of Baden there is a Royalist centre. Not long ago General Dumouriez went there to meet the Duke d'Enghien." "Ah?" said Bonaparte. "This is interest- ing. I shall recall Savary at once. He will be more useful in Paris than in Normandy." "If he can be of use in any place or un- der any circumstances " said Fouch6, who had no respect for the work of the Consul's favourite. After a short silence Bonaparte said: "Do you know a woman named Montmo- ran, a pretty woman, possibly of more or less gallantry, ... a person who frequents places of amusement?" "But General," the ex-oratorian answered, "your prefect of police ought to be better able than I am to satisfy your curiosity on i86 The Eagle's Talon that subject. My duties have never included surveillance of the women of Paris." "I know it, citizen. But I take advantage of your visit to ask you if you know anything concerning the woman. If you do not know her, do not answer." Fouch6 smiled. "I know Montmoran. WhenCadoudal was under arms the last time, up there in Brittany, I employed her. She is very keen and a worker. I paid a high price for her services." "What did she do?" "She infatuated Cadoudal. The man went mad over her, and she barely failed to deliver him to us at three different times. The third time he caught her at it, and punished her." "She hates him?" "Yes, with all her strength." "Can we trust her?" "As far as he is concerned, yes." "And if he is not concerned?" "Even then we can trust her if no one offers her more money. She works best for the one who pays the highest price." There was silence. Some minutes later Fouche asked: "Did you summon me in order to question me about Montmoran?" Love and Peril 187 "Yes." " I can tell you all about her. My best man, Braconneau, worked with her at the time Cadoudal discovered her true character. I will order him to watch her and to report at once." So everything was made clear to Bonaparte, and he was enabled to develop the Chouans' plot to suit his own necessities. His life hung upon a gallant adventure, therefore he was master of the situation, and he, in his own name, could appoint his place of meeting with little Wemmer. Virginie Sinclair lived on the fifth floor of a handsome apartment house, in a flat main- tained at the expense of an elderly wholesale feather merchant, whose elderly wife was of a nature so suspicious that the visits paid by her husband to his ward were rare. Deep in love for the first time in a short but brilliant life of triumphant coquetry, Virginie saw only through her lover's eyes, and lived for no purpose but to be true to her own conception of her duty. Her thoughts of the man to whom she owned the maintenance of her home were limited to a fevered consciousness i88 The Eagle's Talon of the necessity of keeping the knowledge of his existence from Fournier, Colonel of the Consular Guard, who loved her, and whom she had supposed that she loved, until Cres- centi aroused her latent soul. Crescenti, tired of long service in a thankless cause, heartsick, indifferent to the lighter things of life, was fond of the vivacious but gentle girl who loved him. He gave her all his leisure, and profited by her knowledge of the Repub- lican world to further the interests of the cause of the princes. "Fancy, Giolo mio,"she said to him one day, "the poor Consul! His spoil-sport tampers even with his private business!" "And what has she done now, little one?*' asked Crescenti, looking deep into her eyes as she perched upon the arm of his chair. "What has she not done? At her age is it just to cry like a child, for Bonaparte? She does it publicly; Wemmer heard her." She paused to trace imaginary furrows on his temples with the tips of her restless fingers, and to drop kisses as if sowing seeds. "Oh, the injustice of it, Giolo miol It is cruel ! The whole world is forced to suffer for that woman. Why do we wear our belts under our arms? Because, owing to the Love and Peril 189 desiccation of her physical tissues, the per- sonality of mother Beauharnais can no longer maintain its independence!" "What?" asked Crescenti. "Is it as bad as that?" "Do not laugh, Giolo miol This is serious. We are young; we might at least preserve some hint of original nature. But no! we must gird ourselves like mummies, because the old consu- lar Creole must sustain the empire uplift ! . . . The Consul invited Wemmer to Saint-Cloud; Josephine, in her jealousy, intervened. And now the unfortunate creatures are looking for a place where they can meet in peace." Her mind wandered from the delicate wrists and slender hands of the Italian noble to Fournier and other hotspurs whose jealous love had troubled a third of her existence, and laying her head on her lover's shoulder, she whispered, "You are so calm, so gentle, Giolo; ... we are so happy! Talk to me of Florence! When you tell me about your youth, it seems to me that I am with you in that dear home, and that all the perfumes of the valley of the Arno fan my face. If you do not tire of me, if you love me long enough, we may go there together you and I." "Possibly," he answered abstractedly. 190 "Stranger things than that have happened. . . . Well, and when the Creole intervened?" "Then Wemmer went away. Constant, the royal valet, arrived at the theatre during rehearsal the day after the scandal. Bona- parte sent a set of cameos. They are lovely! And now the question is where can they meet?" "And why not here, carissima mia?" said Crescenti. "Your apartment is most dainty. For that one day we could go far away." She laughed and struck her palms together. " I will suggest it ! I will fill the rooms with flowers, and I will set a little table! Poor Consul! Here at least he will be free from his old baby!" Having set her artless mind before the sinister work, Crescenti said nothing more of the interview to come. A few days later the little widow received a shock which deepened to despairing tenderness her tranquil love for her Italian. Coster's chief work had been the preserva- tion of his disguise, the stain upon his flesh, and the brown wig that covered his own fair hair. Always awake at daybreak, he per- fected his disguise while Virginie slept. One morning, awakened by a dream filled like all her dreams with peril for her lover, the girl Love and Peril 191 raised her head from her pillow. In her elaborate nightdress, a robe more voluminous and more modest than the clinging empire scabbard worn during the day, her white feet bare, she ran through the corridor, opened the door of the dressing-room, and stopped aghast. The face of the man before the mirror was not the face she knew. White skinned, blooming like a rose, and aureoled with fine blonde hair, the face con- fronted her. She stood still. It was Cres- centi. She knew him by the proud carriage of his head, and by the graceful elegance of his slender but vigorous form. "Giolo!" she cried. "Oh! how could you? All this time you have deceived me. You have been disguised! What does it mean?" He turned, caught her in his arms, and answered, " It means nothing! I am the man who loves you and the man you love. What matters it that my hair is fair and that my skin is white? You loved me neither for my skin nor for my nationality. I love you with all my strength. You will find that I love you as I have ever, and shall for ever, love you, even though I am not a dark-haired Italian, but a fair-haired Frenchman." She had fallen fainting on his breast. She 192 The Eagle's Talon came out of her swoon and looked up into his handsome face, wild-eyed. "You are beautiful," she said humbly. "You are angelic, with your dreamy eyes and hair like silvered gold, and your white skin. But why were you disguised? Why did you deceive the woman who loves you? You are not an actor?" "No," he said laughing, "I am not an actor." "A counterfeiter, . . . a bank robber?" "I am an honest man. But my life is at stake; therefore I am disguised. / am a Chouan" He passed the sponge, wet with brown stain, over his face, neck, and arms, and adjusted his brown wig. "You are a conspirator!" she said, wringing her hands. ' ' What will become of me? I love you and I must surfer!" "I will go away. You shall never see me any more." "If you go, it is because you do not love me. But I wretched girl that I am / love you! I never lived until I loved you. Leave me and I will die!" " Perhaps you do not love me," he reasoned. "You told me that you used to believe that Love and Peril 193 you loved Fournier. You will forget me and love another." "Never." "Listen to me, Virginie. You were safe as long as you did not know my true character ; for, brought before the inquisitors, you could have sworn that you knew nothing. Now that you know me as I am, you are in danger. I am hunted. If they find me, I shall be shot. To stay with you is to drag you down. Tell me to go. Forget me, begin a new life and be happy." Her desperate arms were around him. "No!" she sobbed. "I will not give you up!" "Whether I go or stay, our time of parting is at hand. My life is pledged to a cause. I have hardly the shadow of a winning chance. To lose means death. You must let me go." Seizing him with all the strength of her weak hands, she cried, grinding her teeth: " You shall not go! If you attempt to leave me, I will denounce you and die with you. You shall not live a life I do not share!" He kissed the soft arms and the straining hands. "Little monster!" he murmured; and de- sperate, standing in the shadow of advancing 13 194 The Eagle's Talon death, in the sunset of their love, the unhappy creatures clung together. "Tell me your secrets!" she implored. "Put faith in me and see how true I shall be to you and to your cause. No matter who you are, no matter what you do, I will stand by you." "Virginie, have mercy! Do not ask me to break my vow!" "No! no! Giolo mio," she said fondly. "I will not ask it, I will hear nothing, see nothing ! Only stay with me ; and when the time comes, I will die with you." CHAPTER XIII IN READINESS JVA OREAU returned from his interview with * " * the Royalists a prey to contrary emo- tions. His feeling against Bonaparte was intense, but the loyal soldier of the Revolu- tion abhorred the thought of assassination, and, save on the field of battle, he had never shed blood. He did not like war; naturally humane, he was generous and kind to the wounded and prisoners. Though loyal, just, and forgiving, he was a stern critic, and in his house he had, in his wife and her mother, evil counsellors, who incessantly incited him to note the faults of "the Bonaparte faction." On the way home from Paris he had time to review the humiliating details of his conference with Cadoudal. Mme. Helot and her daughter, who had been informed of the projected visit to Paris, had awaited his arrival with intense anxiety, but the expression of his pale face made questions impossible. After a few brief 195 196 The Eagle's Talon indifferent words he bade the ladies good- night, and saying that he had important work to do, and that he must be alone, he went into his cabinet and locked the door. Creeping to the door toward daybreak, his anxious wife heard the even tread of his slippered feet on the waxed floor. At sunrise he went to bed. At eleven o'clock he sent for Fresnieres, his secretary, who knew all his secrets. Fresni- e~res knew that Pichegru had made overtures concerning Cadoudal, but Moreau had not mentioned his appointed meeting in the rue Saint-Honor6. He was painfully conscious of the meaning of all that he considered crim- inal in his participation in what he qualified as "the work of the stipended tools of Pitt and Coburg," and though he habitually thought aloud when with his secretary, he had blushed at the thought of making known to Fresnieres his consideration of an alliance with the Royalists. But after the interview his wounded pride demanded an outlet, and the ardent spite of the devoted women whom he called his "two wives" caused him to shrink from casting himself upon their sym- pathy. In the dark hours of his soul it was his habit to go to Fresnieres for counsel and for warning. He had barely begun to speak In Readiness 197 when Fresnie"res paled and clutched the arm of his chair. When Moreau told him what the Chouan had proposed and what he had an- swered, Fresnieres cried: "That is Moreau! Ah, General, I knew it! But how did they dare to insult you by such a proposal?" "It is probable that Pichegru gave them the impression that I was prepared to listen to them." "What right had Pichegru to approach you? What is there in common between you and Pichegru?" "Disgrace." "His condemnation was just. Your dis- grace was without reason and without excuse. General, I beg of you! Keep away from Pichegru! He, like Dumouriez, is an agent of corruption. Contact with such men dis- honours you." "All that I realise, but it is too late to think of it. My time for precaution is past; it is the future that I have to deal with. I went of my free will to meet those men ; I shall be accused of conniving with them." "That cannot be denied," said the secretary. "You have given your enemies their opportun- ity; they will unite to ruin you when the time 198 The Eagle's Talon comes to punish the conspirators. If your amicable relations with the Royalists are known, your complicity will be established as a fact, and who knows that the consular spies have not already informed Bonaparte of everything ! They are everywhere. General, you have been imprudent!" "What can I do?" "You have one means of proving that you are not in sympathy with the project of assassination." "And that is . . . ?" "You must warn the Consul of his danger." An indignant flush reddened the soldier's face. ' ' What ? Denounce them after I have given them my word?" " Denounce them? No! Make their plans harmless." " To me to do a thing of that kind is impos- sible and even if I would, I could not. I have no knowledge of their plans." "What?" exclaimed Fresnieres. ''You risked your life and your reputation to meet men of whose plans you knew nothing? This is incredible ! You must not delay one instant. If you will not warn the Consul, give Duroc a vague idea of their danger." In Readiness 199 "I cannot do it." "Then, General, you must get away." "Where can I go?" " To no land where you fought battles. Go to Switzerland; there you can await events." "I will go. But I will not run away. I must announce my departure and take leave of my friends." Bending over his desk and avoiding the in- tent gaze of his chief, Fresnires said earnestly : "Do not hesitate, General, your reputation is at stake." "I will announce my intention to leave the country. I shall not be accused of conspiring if it is known that I am going to leave France." "You will not listen to me," Fresnieres said. "Ask General Liebert to give you his opinion." "I know his opinion. He has urged me to go away. ... I will go. ... I must go! But how can I explain my conduct to my own household? . . . My wife . . . and Mme. Helot what will they say?" "They love you too well to permit you to risk your life and your good name." "They are so proud of me; they expect so much! All my lieutenants are at the heads of armies. I am nothing! And yet what 2OO The Eagle's Talon would have become of Bonaparte had I not saved the army after Novi and halted the enemy after Trebbia?" Devoured by regret, smarting from un- merited punishment, but proud and loyal, he refused to strike a blow at the power of his rival. And by his attitude he assumed the appearance of guilt. While the conspirators spun their web around the central figure, Bonaparte, aided by Fouche, planned. Fouche had questioned Braconneau. Braconneau, despite his keen scent and his indefatigable activity, had failed to find a trace of Cadoudal. The presence of Coster de Saint-Victor was proof that Cadou- dal was not far away. Detailed by Fouche, Braconneau searched the city and the suburbs. He watched the gambler at his play, followed him, and saw him enter the tall apartment house. At times he lurked in the shadows, and looking up to the fifth floor of the house opposite, saw the lovers close together on the balcony in the light from the long French windows. Under the name of Laverniere, in the disguise of an idle bourgeois, Braconneau haunted Frascati and feigning uncontrollable In Readiness 201 respect and admiration for the nobility, he ingratiated himself with Crescenti. One day when he stood beside the lucky gambler, watching the gold rising in a little pile before him, Crescenti asked: "You never play, Monsieur?" and the disguised Braconneau answered, "No. I am nor rich enough to support losses, nor poor enough to crave to win." "You are a philosopher," said Crescenti. Their conversation ended there. "Laver- niere" shadowed the Marquis but his surveil- lance was fruitless. The Marquis lived a life open to observation; he passed his afternoons and evenings at Frascati, and his nights and mornings in the Sinclair apartment on the fifth floor of the handsome white stone house with balconies. One evening Braconneau arrived at Fras- cati later than was his wont ; and as he passed through the gardens, he saw a tall man in citizen's dress, but unmistabably a soldier, standing in the shadow of a chestnut tree, talking to Crescenti. Braconneau stepped behind a little kiosk and watched them. Their conference was brief. The spy hastened toward the gate of the garden, and as the tall man passed out on to the boulevard, shadowed 2O2 The Eagle's Talon him. The tall man was Pichegru, and two hours later he was under the surveillance of two of Fouch6's expert police. That evening the Comedie-Francaise pre- sented Iphigenia and little George appeared to dazzling advantage in her tunic and peplum and in her veils. Talma sat in the rotunda of the theatre, playing chess with Dazincourt. The men were ready for the stage and awaiting their call. Actors and actresses lounged in studied attitudes, discussing the matters that interested them. Talma and Dazincourt spoke of the amateur theatricals at Versailles, of Marie Antoinette, of her dullard husband, and of Jean Jacques and his Civil Contract. "Well do I remember!" said Dazincourt. "Rousseau laughed in the King's face. He ought to have controlled himself ; but Revolu- tion was in the air ; the Queen did not respect the King, and the people did not respect royalty. . . . But that was the time of times ! Ma foif what memories ! " "Memories!" said Talma. "Yes! but as- sured comfort is a more valuable asset than memories. Bonaparte has given the Comedie a fortune of late. We shall be able to carry on our art without starving." "Talma! cher Matire!" lisped Mile. Jouve. At Frascati. In Readiness 203 " You never can have needed anything ! They say that Bonaparte pensioned you because you taught him to enunciate properly." "Say rather," laughed Talma, "that the Consul remembers that I gave him tickets when we played Corneille. Bonaparte is kind; he is very grateful to his friends. But he likes young actresses better than old actors. Rein, Dazincourt?" ' ' Bonaparte likes tragedy. He understands heroes," answered " Crispin." At that instant a messenger entered and whispered to Mile. Raucourt, who said in answer: "Let him wait in my dressing-room." The curtain rose and Raucourt and Wem- mer appeared upon the stage. Twenty min- utes later, Raucourt and Wemmer found Constant waiting in Raucourt's dressing-room. Constant was a power. He was known to hold the Consul's secrets; and to him the solicitors of favours turned after Josephine and the ministers failed them. Constant was tactful and discreet; Bonaparte liked and trusted him; servant and master were of the same head and foot measurement and Con- stant broke in the Consul's hats and shoes, and by doing so, acquired the prestige attendant 2O4 The Eagle's Talon upon the assumption of the wearing apparel of a hero. He greeted the young women with a deep reverence and a benevolent smile. Flushed with the excitement of the stage, both were beautiful; Wemmer, but half -clothed, draped in her goddess veils, and pale from the emotion demanded by the character of Iphigenia, was dazzling. She pressed her hand to her heavily throbbing heart, sank into a chair, and closed her eyes. "Eh, bien, citizen Constant," said Raucourt. "You have come from the Consul?" "Eh, oui, Madame; General Bonaparte begged me to lay at the feet of Mademoiselle Wemmer this offering, and to ask when he is to have the pleasure of seeing her." The girl had heard nothing but the ques- tion. She opened her eyes and spoke with vehemence: "I shall not go to Saint-Cloud, Versailles, or any place where I can create scandal! I have had too much of it." Constant answered: "Mademoiselle, the Consul begs you to accept this memorial of your adventure." Wemmer started, snatched the package presented by the valet, opened it, and dis- In Readiness 205 closed to view a jewel case containing two splendid solitaire diamonds. "Ah, Raucourt!" she sighed, exhibiting the jewels . ' ' For my hair ! ' ' "An imperial gift. Put them on at once!" said Raucourt. "What? in Iphigenia?" "Yes, the daughter of kings may well wear them. Say that Achilles gave them to you." "And what does Achilles wish?" the girl asked, turning to Constant. "He wishes to see you. He is looking for a place where it will be safe to meet you. When he finds it, you will be notified. Will you come?" "I will come." "To whatever place is chosen?" "Who will accompany me?" asked the girl. " I shall conduct you to and from the place." "Citizen Constant," she said smiling, "I will go with you to any place appointed." "I thank you, citizen Wemmer. And now, ladies, there remains for me to do nothing but to offer my humblest reverence." When the two women were alone, the elder embraced the younger. "Promise me," she urged, "that in your glory you will not forget your Raucourt." 206 The Eagle's Talon "I owe everything to you," the girl an- swered. "I shall not forget it." The third act began and the two women went upon the stage. In the rue Careme-Prenant the Chouans awaited with impatience information concern- ing the Consul's meeting with little Wemmer. Coster de Saint- Victor, who would hear the news at once from the lips of Wemmer 's friend Sinclair, had promised to inform Cadou- dal through Taillard. Taillard, disguised as a bootblack, sat all day at the corner of the rue Saint-Antoine, blacking the shoes of the passing people. He liked to blacken shoes better than to stifle in the close air of Cadou- dal's hiding-place. Cadoudal envied him. "Ah, Taillard," said Cadoudal, when Brise- Bleu entered wet and grimy, "you can breathe fresh air and sit in the wind and rain ! I would take your place; but to do that would be to end everything. There is no disguise for my great head!" One night Taillard delivered a card sent by Coster de Saint- Victor, who had stopped at Taillard's corner to have his boots rubbed with oil. The Chouan trembled with the joy of In Readiness 207 anticipated triumph. The card bore but few words: "Day after to-morrow, at nine o'clock, at Gorgeret's. Enter from the Champs-Ely sees. "And now," said Cadoudal, "I can breathe! Within two days I shall have changed the fortunes of France, or all will be over, and I shall be beyond the grave, and by far better off than in an attic." That night Picot set out early in the morn- ing with orders for Mirelle, Loiseau, and Burban: tried Chouans. Mirelle worked for a plasterer in Belleville; Loiseau worked in the horse-market. "With Coster, Taillard, and you," Cadoudal said to Picot, "there will be six strong deter- mined men, armed with sabres and with pistols." "General," said Taillard, "let us take six more. We .do not know what may happen. I will go to Courbevoie and summon six chasseurs. They shall guard the doors while we do our work." ' ' You reason well, ' ' said Cadoudal. ' ' With a force like that we could face a squadron of municipal guards." While the Chouans laid their plans for the 208 The Eagle's Talon ambush, Bonaparte planned the counter- attack. "The Countess," said Duroc to the Consul, "has arranged everything with Gorgeret. Gorgeret himself made the arrangement with the enemy. The Countess will pass for Wemmer. She will enter the house by the faubourg Saint-Honor6, accompanied either by Constant or by Cacheux. I shall come in by the Champs-Ely sees. As soon as we are in the house, Savary with forty picked gen- darmes will surround the house, and seize Cadoudal and his accomplices as they enter. If the manoeuvre is well executed, not one of them will escape. All who resist will be killed, all who are taken will go to the dun- geons of the Abbaye. It must not be known to the people that an attempt has been made. Meanwhile you, General, will meet Wemmer at the residence of Montmoran." A frown clouded the pale brow of the con- queror, and, with eyes darting fire, he con- fronted his young aide. "Your plan is not frank," he said. "I do not like it. It might have satisfied Nero; In Readiness 209 it does not meet my ideas of legitimate strategy." "Act your pleasure, my dear Chief," Duroc answered stiffly. "Go yourself to Gorgeret's. If you fancy a death of that kind it is not for me to hinder you." "I appreciate your efforts," the Consul said after a nervous attempt to conceal his agitation. "Your plan is repugnant but practical. I will act according to your judg- ment. But if the trap is set in both places? Fouche" tells me that the Countess works for the one who pays the best." "The police will guard Montmoran's house. One of Fouche's best men will be near you with men enough to hold a dozen citadels." "Who is the man?" "Braconneau." "I know him. He is the one who caught Saint-Regeant. He shall have a high place by-and-bye." "He is the right hand of the force. He has arranged everything, disguised as Picot. Gorgeret talked to him under the impression that he was talking to Cadoudal's delegate. We are drawing the net around them. Coster de Saint- Victor is shadowed; so is Picot but where is Cadoudal?" 14 210 The Eagle's Talon "If he has a heart in his body, you will see him to-morrow, sabre in hand. Ah, why may I not be there to fight him face to face?" "Because the well-being of France hangs on your life!" said Duroc. "The Chouans have planned to kill you at the buskined feet of a woman. Is that a reason why you should not die at the head of your army? A man of your responsibilities ought to die like Caesar, not like Mark Antony!" "Enfin!" said Bonaparte, "you shall have your way." The two young men standing side by side looked out upon the terrace where the people passing up and down gazed with childish curiosity at the palace windows. Bonaparte spoke. "This episode is humiliat- ing and distressing. But in it I have found one grain of consolation: Moreau's name has not been heard. He has broken with the Royalists." "He has; because they are working for the King ; or to speak better, because they are not working for Moreau. On either side an effort was made to obtain chestnuts by means of cat's-paws. Both parties looked with favour upon your removal, but they could not agree as to your successor." "The parties would align the day after my In Readiness 211 death ; the Jacobins with Moreau would make efforts to establish a dictatorship. The Royal- ists would acclaim Louis XVIII. The junior branch would show its ambitions. I can harmonise all that if I live." "By proclaiming the Empire?" "By answering the people's wishes for the people's good." When Virginie Sinclair returned to her apartment after her daily interview with Raucourt and George Wemmer, Crescenti had cast off his brown wig and freed his fair hair. The lights were low, and the sweet night wind stirred the lace curtains, and played with the leaves of the tea roses massed in the four corners of the room. "What a life, Giolo!" the girl murmured, taking his head in her young arms. "A life of fierce anxiety! And yet I am thankful, for we are still here, unmolested." "Poor little girl!" he said, returning her caresses. "I ought never to have crossed your path." She broke away from him, took off her clinging empire sheath, and sat before him in her little petticoat and corset, smiling like an artless child. 212 "All day long, Giolo mio" she said, "I have run about on your business." "Where did you go?" "Here and there. Just now I have come from Wemmer's. Her uncle has arrived. He is delighted with her capture of the Consul. He worships Bonaparte." "Did you offer this place to Wemmer?" "I wished to because you spoke of it; but I was too late. Raucourt had arranged everything with Montmoran. They are to meet at Gorgeret's, the day after to-morrow. Bonaparte will enter from the Champs- Elysees. I found out everything!" "Little diplomat!" "Not a real one," she answered. "Only for your sake! It worries me for they may hurt him without meaning to when they seize him. . . . But I love you so dearly that I think of nothing but your will. You have bewitched me ; my heart shrinks when I think of what would become of me if you did not love me." "I shall always love you, Virginie." "You may die." "I am not afraid. I have formed the habit of danger." "What shall you do if you fail?" In Readiness 213 " Nothing more. It is too late. If we fail this time, we shall let the country drift. The King is in Poland. I shall go to him, ask leave of absence, and go to my native land, the Vendee. There I have ancestral property : an old stone house, a flower garden, a farm cut by a river a place lost between woods and moors. I shall live like a peasant. I shall till my land and hunt and fish. And there, forgotten and in peace, I shall end my days." "And where shall I be?" "My dear little girl! You will be with me if you can make up your mind to give up Paris. . . . Would you do that? Could you give up the life you love to live with me in the silence of the country?" "I care for nothing but to be with you' You have no idea how I long for you when I am away from you! As for that place it will be heaven. I shall be with you in the garden, I shall go fishing with you; and, though I shall not kill things, I shall go hunting with you. And in the twilight, and in the moonlight, we shall go home together to the little house. I shall be so happy! Here I am never happy, I am al- ways anxious. If you are late, I am on the 214 The Eagle's Talon balcony, watching . . . fearing that they have caught you." "That may happen. But I never think of it. My disguise is good. And then, too, the police force was disorganised when Fouche was deposed. Fouche is diabolical ... he is everywhere! Real is a magistrate; he is not fit for police work. We do not fear him." "And that," said the girl, "is why I am so frightened. They will seize you when you least expect it." He smiled. "They will have to be quick about it ; they have only two days to work in. The day after to-morrow we work." "What will happen if your attempt is successful?" "If we succeed the King will cross the frontier and enter Lille. The majority of our partisans will be there. At the moment when the King enters Lille, the Duke d'Enghien will enter Alsace, call out the garrison of Strasbourg, and march on Nancy. The Count d'Artois will enter Normandy, find troops awaiting him, and march on Paris. At Lyons, at Marseilles, and all through the south, we are ready. Brittany will rise at the first call." "And you, Giolo," she asked, clasping him closer, "what will they do for you?" In Readiness 215 He smiled. "Nothing. Perhaps the King may thank me. Possibly he will give me a place in his guard. It may be they will give me Saint Louis's Cross. But it makes no difference; I am not working for pay. It is probable that I shall get nothing." "Nothing?" "Nothing. They will give something to every man who has come to them from the other party. No man will betray the Consul for nothing; and every man who has betrayed the Consul for the benefit of the King will be paid by the King. And when the King has paid all those whom he has bought, what will he have left for us who have worked for nothing?" Her eyes dilated. "And you know all that. . . . You risk your life for men of that stamp? Ungrateful princes! Cowards! Why are they not here to stand with you when you die for them?" He smiled into the eager face. "We know all that. But personal interests do not count if a man has convictions. Our chief, Georges Cadoudal, stands face to face with death. After he brings back the King he will be forgotten; the favourites alone will hold the power. He knows it. But our 216 The Eagle's Talon honour is at stake. We are fighting for duty, not for the hope of recompense." "You are heroes." "Not we! Our names are known. Even now we have our halos of glory. The men who risk their lives to serve under our orders, the men who stand shoulder to shoulder with us confronting death Taillard, Joseph Picot, . . . and others like them, who will not get one word of recognition from the King they are the heroes. The moorlands of Brittany are white with the bones of the men who fol- lowed the banners of the Chouannerie. The Chouans fell by thousands, for God and the King. When the Cross and the white flag of the Chouannerie have been lifted from the dust, the kings will not do as much as raise a monument on Breton earth to remind them of the men who died for them. The unknown living and the forgotten dead are the people for you to pity if you can pity strong men who have been brave and true." She sat beside him awed and silent. After a while he asked: "Of what are you thinking, darling?" " I am thinking of the home where we shall be so happy. Let us go there right away! In Readiness 217 I will pack to-night; I can be ready to go to-morrow." "No," he answered. "To do that would be to forsake my friends." CHAPTER XIV TRAPPED \TINE o'clock. The clocks in the towers * * were striking the hour when Cadoudal, accompanied by Taillard and by Picot, stopped before the little door in the wall that separated Gorgeret's grounds from the Champs Elysees. Coster, hidden in the shadow of a tree, stepped out from the wall to meet them. "Good-evening!" he said. "We are just in time. The moon has gone beyond the clouds. It is as dark as the mouth of an oven. ' ' "How many men have you?" asked Cadoudal. "Leridan and ten chasseurs are in a tool- house close to the wall, near the door ; Loiseau and Mirelle are in the concierge's lodge at the gate opening on the faubourg. Burban and ten chasseurs are in the house. The mouse trap is a strong one, well set. No one can get out." "Let us go in," said Cadoudal. They entered the park and passed the low 218 Trapped 219 building where Leridan was hidden with his men. The place was absolutely still. Cadou- dal examined the wall of the adjoining pro- perty. It was of stone, seven feet high, and covered with ancient vines. "The wall is high," said Cadoudal. "Never- theless we must take precautions. Taillard, set five men to guard it!" Taillard went to the toolhouse. Cadoudal inspected the other side, where the wall was a smooth upright, ten feet high, with a crest protection of broken glass bottles. Two of Mirelle's men were stationed to watch; and Cadoudal, Picot, Taillard, and thirteen strap- ping Chouans were left for the work in the house. Gorgeret, who had sent away his concierge and his servants for the night, had gone to Boulogne. "I will wait in the garden with Picot," said Cadoudal. " You, Coster, will wait at the gate on the faubourg Saint-Honor6 to receive the young lady. As soon as she enters, give three low whistles. Bonaparte will come in from the Champs-Elysees. As soon as he is in, whistle four times. His entrance will give us our signal. Coster went over toward the wall. His men with Mirelle were to guard the wall of the 220 The Eagle's Talon adjoining property. As he went along, he thought of all the arrangements made and of all the work to be done in the name of the Blessed Virgin, and for the King. Mirelle received his orders and went away in silence, in the direction of the great wall which separated the grounds of the h6tel de Montbazon from the property of the famous gastronomer, Grimod de la Reyniere. Alone in the gate-keeper's lodge, Coster put on the livery of the concierge, put his sabre in a corner, and sat down between the great ears of an easy chair. The hour fixed for Wemmer's arrival had not come when a loud rap sounded on the door opening on the street. Armed with pistols, Coster opened the door. A woman, heavily veiled over her deep cowl- like hood, stood at the door, attended by a man in the dress of a bourgeois. "Citizen Gorgeret's?" asked the man. "Enter," answered Coster. "You are ex- pected." He closed and locked the door and preceding his guests, said respectfully, "I will conduct you." As he spoke, the moon came from between two shadowy cloud-masses and Coster re- cognised in the man Constant, the confiden- tial valet of the Consul. Opening the great Trapped 221 stained-glass door of the vestibule, he took one of the lighted candelabra from the stand, and went up the broad stairway, followed by the visitors. On the first landing he turned. "Monsieur and Madame," he said, "this is the salon. Please enter and be seated. I have left my lodge unguarded. I will return to it." " Do so," said the woman. Startled by the sound of her voice, Coster raised his eyes. The face of the visitor was hidden by the cowl, and over the cowl hung the heavy lace of a black veil. "I know that voice," thought Saint- Victor. "It is not the voice of Wemmer." When he had given the light to the valet and closed the door, the instinct of danger warned him to look about him. The door of the room next to the salon was open; the moon, sailing in a cloudy sky, filtered its chang- ing light through the window veils and fell on the open door of an inner room. A line of light lay on the polished floor below the door between the inner room and the salon. Saint- Victor looked through the keyhole into the salon. The woman had seated herself and put off her cowl-like hood. She was not Wemmer but Montmoran. 222 The Eagle's Talon Saint- Victor ran through the rooms, down the stairs, and out into the park. In the concierge's lodge he changed his livery for his own garments and buckled on his sword. The moon was setting and the flowers massed on the lawn lay grey and cold under the heavy dew. Picking his way across the lawn, the Chouan made his way to Burban. 11 Attention!" he said to the startled man. "The woman has come. She is not Wemmer, but Montmoran! We are in a trap. Be ready. At the first shot march on the house!" As he spoke four shots announced the arrival of Bonaparte. Hidden behind a tree, Saint- Victor saw two men in mantles cross the lawn. In the shorter of the two he recognised Duroc. The other resembled Bonaparte. Convinced that he had not an instant to lose, Coster hurried to Cadoudal. "General," he said, "you are in a trap. Montmoran is here. She came heavily veiled, disguised as Wemmer. She is in the house with the Consul's valet. Duroc, with Bona- parte, or a man who resembles Bonaparte, is on the grounds. In the name of Heaven, get away!" To this appeal Cadoudal answered roughly: Trapped 223 "I came here to kill or to be killed. Stand back, Saint- Victor." "For the love of heaven, listen to me," said Coster. "We are in a trap set by Mont- moran. She us waiting, as she waited at Hennebont, to see them take you! Durocdid not come here unprotected. Junot's grena- diers are not far off. If you care for the men who have served you faithfully, get away and leave us free to find means to save our lives!" "No," was the dogged answer. " I will not go." They stood in the dim light in the heavy air. The time was fleeting. Coster was seized by a feeling of deep discouragement. His ap- pearance changed; his shoulders drooped, and his face assumed a look of piteous weakness. He flung his arms around his chief; his voice trembled : "To dally in this place now is stubborn and selfish obstinacy ! You owe it to the men who have followed you in the face of death to escape from the pit dug by your enemy!" The elder man listened in silence. In the trees above their heads the birds stirred and twittered in their nests. Coster tightened his grip. "For your sake, because you inspired me 224 The Eagle's Talon with belief in the hierarchy, I have lived the life of an outlaw. You were eloquent. I listened to you. I loved you as a father or an elder brother. I have wasted years in torpor, waiting for something that never came. I was young, a boy, full of life, when I came to you. You taught me to live the life of an outlaw that I might aid in conquering a throne for men who revelled while my comrades died. I have run like a wolf through the forests. I have been the slave of a dream! I have obeyed you blindly, like Picot and like Brise- Bleu. We have worked for love. Suffer us not to face the shame of knowing that our chief has died, caught in a trap, like a wild beast!" The bronze gate opening on the faubourg rang to a heavy blow, and at the same moment two shots were fired across the park. "You hear!" cried Coster. "If you love us, get away! Climb the wall! Up with you, Picot! We must get him over !" Picot sprang to the wall. Lank, sinewy, of drilled muscular force, he caught on the vines, climbed like a cat, and standing on the parapet stretched his arms toward the ground. "Kneel!" ordered the young Chouan. ' ' Brace yourself ! ' ' Trapped 225 Dropping on one knee, Picot stiffened for the tug. Coster bowed his back and stood bending, a hand on either knee. "Now there, General! For the sake of the men who love you, and for the King!" Cursing by all the saints, Cadoudal put his foot on the bowed back and by his own labori- ous effort, and by the assistance of Picot, climbed the wall and disappeared. "And now, mordieuJ" swore Coster, "I can play!" and drawing his sabre, he ran across the lawns. When he reached the house, Burban and his men were in the great lower hall. Duroc was there with Cacheux, the man who had entered disguised as Bona- parte. They had done good work for their service. Burban, his cheek slashed from eye to chin, lay face downward on the marble pavement. Running in from the sweet air of the chill night, Saint- Victor saw through the thick smoke of powder, Cacheux loading his pistols ; he saw the dying and the dead, and Mont- moran, an evil smile upon her handsome face, leaning over the balustrade and holding in space the candelabra that Coster had given to Constant. "Stop!" she called to Cacheux. "Do not 15 226 The Eagle's Talon kill him. Take him alive! That is Coster de Saint- Victor!" Cacheux took a step forward. Braconneau, entering at that moment, hid a smile. Ca- cheux was too late. The men of the Consul's guard heard the strange cry of the screech- owl, and led by Saint-Victor, the Chouans passed over the bodies of the dead and ran like deer, as Savary and his cavalry clattered down the stony street and trotted up the drive to the door. Between the gateway and the door on the drive, Savary had received a sword thrust. He saluted. Duroc returned his salute with a grim smile. Braconneau saluted the discomfited Colonel and asked Duroc to give orders to surround the house from the fauburg to the Champs-Ely sees. "And now," said Duroc to Braconneau, "your work begins." Cacheux wiped the blood from his sword. He gave orders to his men, strode over the dead, and went out into the perfumed night. Save for the bodies of the dead, the place was clear. The Countess de Montmoran was alone with the detective. The candles burned dim through the thick smoke; four men lay face downward on the marble floor. "This place is horrible," said Braconneau. Trapped 227 "I must stay here; I am in charge; but you, Madame, should return to the hdtel de Fuisse. The air is foul ; the scent of blood is sickening." "I will go; but first let us count the costs." "Of what use? The scheme has failed. They have worked too late; the Government rests on a firm basis. They will understand it ; they will renounce their hopes and their efforts, and the Consul will be free to carry on his work of peace." "Cadoudal cannot have escaped," the woman answered. "He must be here now! Get a lantern; we must search for him!" Leaving the scene of blood, Braconneau went away. After a few minutes he returned with a lantern, and accompanied by the Countess, followed the limits of the park, close to the wall, throwing light on the vines strung with spiders' webs and glittering with dew. Suddenly he halted and cast the light along the wall to the parapet. "He passed over the wall right here," he said. "He is heavy; he left, his mark." They neared the tool -house. The door opened by the Chouans when the fight began had not been closed. Impelled by the im- pulse to search, Braconneau raised his lantern and looked in on the piled-up debris. 228 The Eagle's Talon "Eh, Id! 1 ' he called to a heaving mass not far from the door. "Do not stir or I shoot!" Taillard, wounded by a sabre thrust, had dragged his bleeding body to the wall ; and he lay there, braced on his elbow, covering his wound with his hand. Montmoran greeted him with a cry of furious joy and with a fren- zied, dancing movement of her feet. She gripped Braconneau's arm. "Force him to give information," she said. 1 'Torture him!" "Where is your chief?" asked Braconneau. Haggard, his face livid, Taillard stared. "Where is Cadoudal?" the woman asked. "He came into the park; I saw him. Answer me, where is he?" Taillard glared at her. "Answer!" she cried in a high, commanding voice. "Answer or I will kill you!" Still staring, contemptuous but silent, the Chouan gazed into her gleaming eyes. "Give me one of your pistols," she said to Braconneau, "then go and call your men. Let them take him and torture him." Braconneau gave her a pistol, set the lantern on the floor, and went to call his men. The Countess approached Taillard. She spoke hurriedly, in an undertone of friendly intimacy : Trapped 229 "We are alone, Brise-Bleu; no one can hear us; no one will know what passes here. Tell me where I can find Cadoudal and I will help you to get to a place where you will be safe. I have influence with the Consul. I will give you twenty thousand livres and send you to Morbihan!" He was silent. She bent over him; her perfumed hair brushed his face. His eyes closed. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Tell me where Georges is and I will go with you to the Vendee. No one will know where we have gone. I have uncounted mil- lions; and all that I can do I will do, and all that I can give I will give, if you will tell me where Georges is. Where was he living yester- day? . . . Answer, Taillard! Braconneau will return ! we have only one moment. Tell me ! To-night you shall be in a comfortable, safe place. To-morrow we can plan for our journey . ' ' He lay with eyes closed, silent. "In Hennebont," she whispered, "you would have done anything for one kind look. I swear to you now, that I will go with you and serve your lightest whim if you will tell me where Georges hides." "Begone!" he groaned. "You shall not . . . tempt me. . . ." 230 The Eagle's Talon Pressing still closer, she smiled and mur- mured, "Will you not tell me?" ' ' I would die ' ' His voice failed ; his head drooped and he lay as one dead. "Die then!" she said; and tearing a handful of straw from one of the cases, she thrust it into the fire of the lantern, passed it blazing under the ends of the dry wood, under the edges of the painted boxes and the straw mats, ran out, and closed and locked the door. The room smoked and flames burst out on every side. A cry, agonised, inarticulate, like the cry of a tortured beast, sounded from the roaring fire. Braconneau was returning, with his men. The Countess ran to meet him. "I have escaped with my life ! ' ' she panted. ' ' He tried to kill me. In his blind fury he over- turned the lantern and set everything afire. He has fainted." Braconneau's keen eyes searched her face. "The men are here," he said. "We must get him out. We cannot let him burn to death." "Citizen," she answered coldly, "you are under my orders. You were sent here by order of the Consul. Your duty is to obey. Your conduct is sentimental and untimely. The wretch came here to kill the Consul. Trapped 231 He must die to-morrow. What matters it if he dies to-night?" Powerless, forced to obey, Braconneau ordered the men to return to their post. He stood in the light of the burning building, watched by the Countess. The Chouan lay face to the wall. The thick wool of his clothes burned slowly. From his shoulders to his feet isolated tongues of flame danced like glowworms. The roof fell in; a shower of sparks flew upward. The light on the sky died. The morning after the fruitless attempt made by Cadoudal, Fouche called upon the Consul. Bonaparte was in excellent humour. "Well, citizen," he asked, "you heard of the attempt made by Cadoudal?" "Yes," Fouche answered, "I have brought a summary of the report made by my men at midnight." He fixed his half -closed eyes on the Consul. "At nine o'clock last night the Chouans made an attempt to seize you in a house opening on the Champs-Elys6es and on the faubourg Saint-Honore ; a house owned by Gorgeret, the man who maintains Montmoran, the woman who has visited you, General." 232 The Eagle's Talon "Well?" asked the Consul. " Montmoran set a trap. Cadoudal and his lieutenant entered the h6tel, expecting to meet you. You, General, were elsewhere." "Where was I, Fouche?" Bonaparte asked with mischievous familiarity. "You were in the Chaussee d'Antin," the ex-minister answered. "In the residential h6tel de Fuisse, with " "Halte la!" laughed the Consul. "I see that you are well informed. Real will be here shortly. I shall see if he knows as much. Have you anything to tell me?" "Corporal Taillard, known as Brise-Bleu, alias the Whirlwind of Death, and Joseph Picot, a noted Breton of the Chouannerie, entered the trap with Cadoudal, Saint- Victor, Leridan, Mirelle, and between twelve and twenty Chouans. Taillard, Roux, and Mazel- lie"re are dead. Leridan, Mirelle, and a dozen Chouans escaped. Some one Coster prob- ably warned Cadoudal at the outset. Savary received a master sabre cut as he rode up to the door." "Ah!" said Bonaparte with enthusiasm, "Savary is devoted to me!" "To be devoted is one thing, to be useful is another," said Fouch6. Trapped 233 Bonaparte, his arms behind his back, paced the floor, passing and repassing Fouche, who, according to habit, stood throughout his in- terview. "And," asked Bonaparte, "what do the people of Paris say?" ' ' Nothing is known. Revolution has habit- uated Paris to clamours. The people in the neighbourhood heard shots, but they often hear them. On the side of the Champs- Elys6es nothing was heard. A low tool-shed burned, but the high wall hid the fire. And now, General, what I came to say is this: We must give Cadoudal his quietus. That man and his followers are a permanent menace to the public peace, and a source of danger to you. Last night they failed in their attempt to kill you. Their next attempt may be successful. You must get rid of them." Bonaparte smiled. His eyes rested on the melancholy face of the ex-minister and he answered : "I do not like blood; but from a political point of view, you are right. How can I get rid of them? As you saw last night, it is not easy." "I am not the master of the power." 234 The Eagle's Talon "That means that you could take the Chouans?" "I took Saint Regeant." "You did. You rendered inestimable ser- vice." "And now I am nothing; another man is in my place, and people who hate me and who blunder, police Paris. Order your aides-de- camp to attend to your military business; let your State Counsellors plan your laws; and let the police keep the public order." "In other words, let Fouche keep the public order. Well, citizen, you shall. I give you my word : I will restore you to office. But we must not wound Real. He has done his best. Be patient. As soon as I can manage it, you shall hear from me. Meanwhile try to take Cadoudal." As Fouch6 took leave of Bonaparte, Duroc entered and at the same moment Roustam came into the room, bringing a server with plates, glasses, and knives and forks. Bona- parte, when free from care, received his ministers in his private apartment and Fouche had been taken to the breakfast room. Bona- parte, standing where Fouch6 had taken leave of him, turned suddenly and gazing steadily into the bright young eyes fixed Trapped 235 on his face with affectionate interest, he asked : "Did you see her, Duroc?" "I saw her; yes." "What does she think of me?" "She likes you; her most ardent wish is to see you soon." Moving to the tune of a slow march, seen at intervals between the trees on the border of the Place de la Concorde, hussars, a white- trimmed blue-grey line, returning from drill on the field below the mountain, defiled before the eyes of the two generals. Bonaparte started, paled, plucked his sleeve, and said as if issuing an order: "Make ready to leave Paris at once! I shall go to Pont-de-Brique. I will review Ney's troops. Then I must see what the English are doing. Real tells me that their ships are in line from Havre to Calais. They are bold; they go to the limit. They insult our ports and fire on our villages." Duroc's face clouded. "It will end in war on the Rhine, as always. But English volun- teer enterprises mean nothing but defence. The English expect punishment because they know that they deserve it. That amounts to nothing. What I fear is Austria. She may make some move that I cannot ignore. If 236 The Eagle's Talon she forces me to do it, I shall take Vienna. I can whip England over the back of Francis- Joseph." Josephine, followed by Hortense, had come in to breakfast. Bonaparte greeted them with smiles: "Eh, bien, my kind Josephine," he said, "did you sleep well last night? And you, little muse, did you practise your music lesson? " He passed his hand caressingly over the girl's cheek and hummed in a thin falsetto full of discords: "Tra, la, la! Tra, la, la! Vous me quittez pour voler & la guerre, Mon coeur te suivra." He drummed rapidly on the table with his finger-tips, sat down to his breakfast, placed a spoonful of everything on the table on his plate, and stirred and tasted one little heap after the other. Josephine, always amiable and anxious to please, sat silent, watching him, studying his face. "You worked very late," she said at last. "Very late." "You were pacing the floor at daybreak." He frowned. "I do not like surveillance," he said. "Night is my working-time. For 'Josephine, always amiable and anxious to please, sat silent, watching him." Trapped 237 you, who ought to be fresh and rosy in the morning, night is the time for sleep." "Bien, mon ami! 11 Josephine answered obediently. Braconneau had omitted the details of Taillard's death as matters of no interest to Fouche. He knew that facts of private life, however important as the work of individual energy, were not important when compared to the question of the public order. Fouch6 knew that Montmoran had assisted Bracon- neau to set the trap in Gorgeret's house. He knew that the tie of undying and desperate hatred bound Montmoran to the Chouans. He knew nothing more. But Braconneau did not hide the fact that, as he believed, Coster de Saint- Victor had exposed the plot and ruined the plan to seize Cadoudal. Braconneau knew that a deadly act of revenge must follow. The Chouans would kill the Countess. But who would be the one to strike the blow? Montmoran must hide. She must not be permitted to remain one night in her house in the rue de la Chaussee d'Antin. To lodge her at Gorgeret's would be to doom Gorgeret to sudden death. The spy deter- 238 The Eagle's Talon mined to hide the Countess in the heart of Paris, in the best-known resort of the world of fashion : the dressmaking and millinery estab- lishment at the sign of the Blue Bonnet. When Braconneau arrived at Lerebourg's the saleswoman was in the shop, but as she had seen the spy only in his disguise as a dandy, in cavalier's velvet and laces and powdered wig, she did not recognise him. He went up the little stairs and greeted his friend with a pronounced Provencal accent and in a singing, southern voice: 11 Eh, be! Lerebourg! May I come in?" "You here, Braconneau?" said the dress- maker. "And at this hour. What has happened?" "Enough! I have come on a delicate errand. I have a favour to ask. If you grant it, you may lose your life." Lerebourg laughed. "A matter of vast importance to the world, ma foil Speak, ask your favour!" "It is just this," said Braconneau. "I am looking for a hiding-place for Montmoran. We know the woman; we do not like her. But she is our assistant, and she is in danger. She has set another trap. She is bent on the death of Cadoudal, and the Chouans are Trapped 239 looking for her. I must get her out of the way. In this house if anywhere in Paris she would be safe. Have you a room vacant on your top floor?" Lerebourg paled but he answered instantly: "The entire floor is free. No one goes up those stairs. She will be alone all day. When the house is closed for the night, she can cir- culate freely. My housekeeper is old. She is not inquisitive ; she is good-natured. I will introduce the viper as a returned exile." 1 ' Good ! I will bring her at dusk, to-night. ' ' "So the brigands have been at work?" "Yes, they were all there. I have not time to tell you now. You shall hear it later. Coster was in evidence, as handsome as a picture and as brave as a lion. He gave the owl-hoot." "But what had she to do with it?" "Everything! She set a trap for Cadoudal and the others; she killed Taillard. If they catch her, she will die." "She ought to have died at Hennebont!" "She will die now when they catch her." "Well, bring her. I will do my best to protect her." On the stairs, Braconneau stood still. 240 The Eagle's Talon After a moment's reflection he returned to the office. "You will not be alone with her," he said to Lerebourg. ' ' I shall be here to keep watch. ' ' CHAPTER XV THE HIDING-PLACE OF THE COUNTESS 1 ATE in the afternoon of a cloudless day J ' when Picot, seated on his bootblack's box, had waited in vain for a customer, a young fop, graceful and elegant despite his affectations, halted before the bootblack, hesi- tated, twirled his cane, and crying in a loud voice, with a strong Italian accent, that the street sprinklers had combined to work his ruin, placed his foot on the blacking box and ordered the bootblack to do his best. Picot dipped his brush in varnish, and looking up and down the street to be sure that no one heard or observed him, asked, "What is it? Have you news?" " I must see the General at once," the young dandy answered in rapid French. "I dare not go to him; even now some spy may be on my tracks; and, in that case, to go to his hiding-place would be to betray every one. There is no help for it ; he must come to me. 16 241 242 The Eagle's Talon I wish to suggest a change concerning the nobles." "Where can he meet you?" "Place du Parvis, opposite the great door of Notre-Dame, at ten o'clock to-night." Picot shrugged his shoulders. ' ' I will give him your message ; but it is hardly likely that he can come while they are there trembling with fear. Until they are well on the road to England, the General will guard them as a nurse guards a child." The dandy smiled. "What are they afraid of?" "They imagine that the Corsican, eager for revenge, will give orders to line them up and shoot them. As you know, that could be done within twenty-four hours from the time of arrest." "Naturally! What are they here for; did they think they were engaged in a fencing bout? This struggle is unto death, and they ought to know it." A man came down the street. Picot bent to his work and ran his brush over the foot of his customer. The man passed and Coster said: "I must see the General. If his guests are so timid that he cannot leave them, I must go The Hiding-Place of the Countess 243 to him. Tell him that I have business to discuss. All hope is dead; this life must end; and before we go we have work to do. Tell him that I am looking for Montmoran. I may run across her at any minute. When I do, I want to know what to do with her." "Eh, Uenr answered Picot. "I will tell him. If he cannot come, I will be on the Place du Parvis, opposite the great door of Notre- Dame, at ten o'clock." "Au revoir" "Au revoir" A simple circumstance had dispelled the mystery with which Braconneau had sur- rounded the departure of his fellow-spy from the rue de la Chaussee d'Antin. When he called at the h6tel de Fuisse to conduct the Countess to a place of safety, Gorgeret was in the salon. The fat gallant had set out to pay homage to the woman he adored, in a state akin to hysteria. Age, greed, intrigue, dissipation, and the pride of his passion for the beautiful and brilliant Countess, had told upon him; and with a realisation of his folly had come a feeling of womanish weakness, a helpless longing to vent his emotion in loud sobs. With eyes open, knowing the contin- 244 The Eagle's Talon gencies covered by his act, he had lent his aid to schemers against the Consul. He had done it influenced by the assurances of Pichegru, believing that the restoration of the throne was near at hand, that his assistance was to be instrumental in setting the King upon his throne, and that his work was to be paid for in gold, and in honours, bestowed by the King. Habituated to profit by the immunity attendant upon great wealth, he had worked his will regardless of results. He had never been punished. He had pillaged in the wake of victorious armies, and sold the cattle and the flour stolen from the enemy, to the French, and nothing had been done to show him that he was within the reach of justice. He had worked for the Royalists and against the reigning power with the same freedom with which he had fed the army on questionable food. When Braconneau entered the presence of the Countess as an agent of the consular police, when he warned her that to remain one night under her own roof would be to court death at the hands of the Chasseurs of the King, Gorgeret awoke to the consciousness of his peril. His passion for the woman whose caprices had tortured him in all his hours of The Hiding-Place of the Countess 245 leisure, was swallowed up by fear for his per- sonal safety. Braconneau's outspoken warn- ings revealed to Gorgeret the fact that he had entangled himself with outlaws. He stood in hiding behind the curtain of one of the long windows, peering into the street, shud- dering, and bemoaning his folly, and when he saw the girlish figure of his disguised love go down the broad stairs, escorted by the repre- sentative of the consular police, powerless to restrain his emotion, he sank into a chair and wept, sobbing in a voice broken by groans. Racked by anticipations of evil, he waited for the all-veiling night to cover his flight from the scene of his folly. As he went through the twilight toward his home in the rue Saint-Honore, he laid plans of escape. During his hour of waiting in the rue de la Chaussee d'Antin, he had decided to take flight at once. To reassure himself he thought of the ease with which he could pack a few necessaries, bank-notes, and gold, go to a sea- port, and sail for some foreign land where he could await events. His mind was clouded; he was not sure who menaced his safety. Mopping his dripping face, brandishing his arms, and talking to himself like a man gone 246 The Eagle's Talon mad, he was halted by the girl known as the widow Sinclair, whom he had seen with Mont- moran. Terrified by the light touch of her hand upon his arm, he leaped backward, quivering in all his flesh; then, recognising her, he seized her hands. "Ah, dear little friend!" he exclaimed. " Now I can tell my woe! . . . The Countess ' his voice died and he stood before the girl pale and trembling. He had remembered all too late that Braconneau had ordered him to refrain from talk. "Well," asked Sinclair. "What is it? Why are you so agitated and so pale? What has happened?" "Nothing!" he stammered, passing his hand over his quivering mouth. "Nothing!" "Nothing?" repeated Sinclair. "That is not true! You said poor Countess! Why did you say that?" "She has gone away!" " Voyons, Gorgeret!" said the girl, fixing her eyes upon his working face. "That is not a catastrophe! She will return. . . ." "Possibly, ..." said Gorgeret. "Perhaps." "Why do you say perhaps?" insisted Sin- clair. ' ' Why are you not sure ? You know that the Countess has not gone far, do you not?" The Hiding- Place of the Countess 247 " Hilas!" sighed Gorgeret. " Who knows?" "Gorgeret," cried Sinclair. "You must answer me! You are like the wizard of Tivoli with your probably and perhaps! I am her friend. I am worthy of confidence. You have no right to treat me like an enemy. You have said too much and too little! Answer me at once. Where is the Countess? " " Do not mention her name! " he whispered. "Her life is in danger!" His words startled Sinclair. They aroused fear for the lover who, like the Countess, was in league with schemers. "You must tell me," she persisted. "I know that she has dealings with the Chouans. She has told me so, more than once. Perhaps she has told me more than she has told you. Are you also plotting to abduct the Consul?" A deadly terror seized him. He shuddered. "Heaven forbid!" he groaned. Silent, confounded by her revelations, he listened; while she, eager to convince him that she knew the secrets of her friend the Countess, pursued: "7 know all! They meant to seize Bona- parte in your house. Their plot failed. How or why it failed I have not been told. But 248 The Eagle's Talon that it failed I know. That, probably, is why the Countess went away." "I am going mad," thought the unhappy man. "My trouble has turned my brain! All that I thought I heard I dreamed. She was a Chouan. I knew it; this girl tells the truth!" "Yes," he said to Sinclair, "that was her reason. But who told you so much, little one?" " My lover," she answered proudly. " He is one of them. He is a chief." "Ah?" said Gorgeret. "Then I know him!" "You know him, probably. You do not know his name." "Ah?" "But," said Sinclair, "we are wasting time. Tell me, Monsieur, about my poor Countess. I cannot bear to think of her alone, afraid, perhaps in need of something that she forgot to take away. When my friends are in danger, I long to be with them. I will do her errands, and fetch and carry letters. Is she where I can reach her?" ' ' Possibly, ' ' answered Gorgeret. ' ' Possibly. She is not so far away." "Tell me where she is that I may go to her." The Hiding-Place of the Countess 249 Gorgeret lowered his voice: "She is at the Blue Bonnet." " With Lerebourg! She will be quite safe. Lerebourg is a Chouan. She told me that one day when I met her at his door. I shall not go there to-night. The Consul's spies might follow me. I am always thinking that they are watching me! But I will go soon. Be very careful, Gorgeret! Not one word! To tell the secret might be to deliver her to death." "Not one word!" the man repeated, wag- ging his black curls. " Not one word! " Gorgeret went his way, and Sinclair re- turned to her apartment to confide to her lover the misfortunes of her friend, the Countess. They were together and alone. Their doors were locked upon the world. Perched upon the arm of his chair, playing with the light on his shimmering hair, and tracing the little veins in his pale temples, she planned small pleasurable surprises for her sequestered friend. And so it happened that less than two hours after the Countess mounted to her hiding-place in Lerebourg's mansarde, her secret was made known to the most active of the Chouans. Between nine and ten o'clock Saint- Victor 250 The Eagle's Talon bade adieu to Virginie and went out to keep his appointment on the Place du Parvis. In the hour when the artless Virginie re- vealed the secret of the Blue Bonnet, a man sent by Braconneau took his stand at the door of Sinclair's apartment house to watch for Crescenti. He arrived at his post ten minutes after Saint-Victor set out for the Place du Parvis. The Chouan had taken fond leave of the girl who loved him, fully determined not to return until he could do so with safety. He knew that the Royalists' plot to entrap the Consul had set in operation all the resources of the police department, and that every detective valued either by R6al or by Fouche would be on foot, and on the watch. All concerned for the Royalist cause realised that any attempt made by Cadoudal would be fatal; that Bonaparte would guard against imprudence; and that he would not go out of his palace without a strong escort. The bold attempt of the Royalists had aroused the anxiety of Fouche's favourite. Braconneau reasoned that men who had dared to act freely in the heart of Paris, in presence of masterful police, and within arm's length The Hiding- Place of the Countess 251 of a garrison of twenty thousand men, would not hesitate to retaliate. He reasoned that the Chasseurs of the King would be swift to wreak vengeance on Montmoran. Having installed the Countess in her room in the mansarde of Lerebourg's house, he went to his lodgings, locked himself in his dressing-room, and opened his wardrobes. An hour later he set out, disguised as a dandy. Under the belt of his wasp waist he carried a poniard and two double-barrelled pistols. Strutting upon the tips of his toes, humming a love song, he strolled down the rue Saint Antoine, and arrived at the Blue Bonnet as the shopboy closed the shutters for the night. He hailed Lerebourg with a gay, "Eh, bien, old fellow, I have come for a night's lodging. I shall sleep right here, under the mansarde." He arranged the pillows of the long divan to suit the curves of his agile body, called for a silken coverlet for use should the night turn cool, lighted a cigar, and sat down with Lere- bourg to indulge in memories always tempting to minds jaded by the labours of a life of danger. Coster had asked for an interview with Cadoudal, prompted by the rumours rife in Paris. Shut in the little hiding-place, in the 252 The Eagle's Talon rue Carme-Prenant, Cadoudal heard nothing. At Frascati, and as he walked the streets going from his home and returning to it, Coster had heard enough to warn him of the danger of the Chouans, and of the keen scent of Fouche's bloodhounds. The Royalists hidden in Cadoudal's lodgings were in terror, trembling for their lives, and at any hour the agents of the consular police might seize them. Fuming at the thought of the coward- ice of the active representatives of the cause, Saint- Victor had determined to urge Cadoudal to send them away. Cadoudal only had the right to speak; he only could advise them to depart from Paris, where their timidity was a perpetual menace of dishonour. Saint-Victor went on rapidly toward Notre- Dame. The neighbourhood was dark and still. A lantern, swinging at the entrance of the street, cast a faint and flickering light on the dusty road. Coster advanced, keeping in the shadow of the wall of Saint- Jean-le-Rond. The clock on the H6tel-Dieu struck the hour. A man in a workman's blouse and corduroy pantaloons staggered down the street, ap- proached Saint-Victor, and, swaying, asked in the voice of a drunkard: " Eh, be! petit pere, how goes it? " The Hiding- Place of the Countess 253 "Picot," Saint- Victor answered. "He would not come!" "No, certes. I told you so! ... But their cowardice is not his only reason; they want to see you." "They flatter me!" railed Coster. "They are expecting you," said Picot. "Let us be gone!" The two men passed through the quarter of the Marais, and reached the house in the rue Careme-Prenant. In answer to the Chouan's knock, M6rille opened the door. Loiseau sat at a little table on the landing, at the top of a flight of stairs. In the room opening on the landing, Leridan, armed with pistols, sat before a table. The place was well guarded. The close, wooden blinds were shut and barred. Not a light could be seen from the street. Picot opened a door, and followed by Saint- Victor, entered a room furnished with a table, chairs, and benches. In an inner room Cadoudal, the Duke de Riviere, and Count Armand de Polignac sat engaged in discussing a plan for the escape of the nobles. The three men looked up and bowed their heads when Coster appeared. Cadoudal motioned to Coster to be seated. 254 The Eagle's Talon Then the conversation, interrupted for an instant, was resumed. "We can do no more in Paris," said de Rividre. "Our coming here was an error! As I see the matter, our better way would be to go to Normandy at once. When there, we can await orders." "Still dreaming of the return of the princes !' ' Cadoudal said in a tone of intense bitterness. "How many times have they promised it? At Quiberon the prince was in one of the ships of the English fleet. He might have landed and fought in our ranks. He looked on while Hoche's grenadiers killed his soldiers; then he went back to Germany and declared that his heart was broken. A fine affair! The grief of the families of the men who died for him was somewhat deeper than his heartache ! " "General," urged de Polignac, "they are our masters." "Bad masters! the King craves a crown, but he will not stoop to raise it from the dust. He is waiting for us to pick it up and put it on his head." "General!" exclaimed de Riviere. Cadoudal continued in a hard, uncompro- mising tone: "If they had energy enough to displace The Hiding- Place of the Countess 255 themselves from their beds of ease and take a look at the man in the Tuileries, they might learn something ! At Arcola that one snatched a flag from the ground where a shot had cast it, ran forward, and led the march on foot. There is a man for you!" "Since you like him so well, why not serve him?" de Riviere asked with a sour smile. "Pardi!" answered Cadoudal calmly. "It is not the chance that I lack. He asked me to. I refused." "Perhaps you regret your refusal." "Perhaps I do. But I am not a man to answer 'yes' and 'no' to the same question. Our masters! Among all of them there is but one who would march with his men!" "And who is he, pray?" asked de Riviere. "The son of the Prince de Conde." "The Duke d'Enghien! Morbleu! He is not even a politician. He is in Baden spin- ning the thread of perfect love with Mme. de Rohan; hunting, fishing, eating, drinking, and sleeping! Truly a fine representative of the cause!" "A true Bourbon, quoit" Cadoudal said with a sneer. "A fellow no better than the others! Gentlemen, we may as well renounce out efforts! If we get a restoration, it will 256 The Eagle's Talon fall to us from the clouds. Human beings cannot compass it." "Then you have given up the hope of assistance from Pichegru and Moreau?" asked de Polignac. "Pichegru and Moreau ! "exclaimed Cadou- dal. "They hate us. They were ashamed to confer with us. They liked Robespierre better than they like us ! Pichegru is a tainted man. Moreau is an ambitious, timid fellow who would eat larks if they dropped roasted into his mouth. Why did he not act on the i8th Brumaire? Because he was afraid to act! He suggested Bonaparte and escorted him to power. . . . Nothing can be done with him! " "You never liked him." "No. He is two-faced; a man who pecks corn with the Chouans while he stalks like a cock with the Jacobins. He will come to a bad end." "He is there now," said Polignac. "When a man sets himself up as an enemy to the ruling power, his position is not enviable." "To Bonaparte Moreau will always be the conqueror of Hohenlinden," said de Rividre. "The General Consul would clasp him to his breast could he get the chance." "Let them go to the end of their rope!" The Hiding-Place of the Countess 257 said Cadoudal. "They are nothing to us. I have ceased to think of them." ' ' Eh, bien! ' ' said Polignac. ' ' The Duke and I have decided that it is advisable for us to depart from Paris. What do you intend to do, Saint- Viet or ?" Thus directly questioned, Saint- Victor answered : "I have no thoughts connected with my future movements. I am under the orders of General Cadoudal. I shall do what he tells me to do." Cadoudal met Saint- Victor's glance with a look of keen approval. "Well, gentlemen," he said, turning to de Riviere and de Polignac, " as you can do nothing more in Paris, and as you have decided that it will be well to depart, go back to England if you can get away. That will be hard to do ; the roads are patrolled by policemen and by spies. The city is safer than the country. But try it; do it if you can! From this hour onward, unless I can be useful to you, forget me; act as if I were not on earth." "And you?" asked de RivieTe. "What shall you do?" "I shall settle the business that I have in hand, give final orders to the bands, the men 17 258 The Eagle's Talon who, like Coster, are waiting to obey my orders. When everything is done, we shall, if possible, get away. I have lived this life too long!" "The Lord be with you and the saints protect you, wherever you may be!" said de Riviere. "Good luck to you!" answered Cadoudal. Having bade adieu to the company, de Polignac and de Riviere went away. Cadou- dal turned to Saint-Victor. "Men like those dragged down the throne, caused the Revolution, and sent poor Louis to the guillotine! If the monarchy should ever be restored, they, or men like them, would drag it down!" "You are looking for your trouble a long way off," laughed Coster. "Look nearer home. I know where Montmoran is. What do you wish me to do with her?" Cadoudal' s face darkened. "That woman's cupidity and deviltry caused our failure. She is responsible for all the blood shed at Hennebont, and for all who died at Gorgeret's . . . Taillard, Freydidre, and others. I ought to have killed her at Hennebont!" "Yes; but under the circumstances to kill her was not possible." The Hiding- Place of the Countess 259 Cadoudal reddened. "It shall be a lesson!" he said. "I paid a big price for it, but I shall not succumb again! A man who aspires to lead men should be chaste. He has no right to think of women." Saint- Victor drooped his eyes. Cadoudal noted his emotion. "I am not thinking of you, my boy," he said. "You are young. You have no re- sponsibilities. You are discreet. I have never heard you mentioned in connection with any woman. Let us talk of the case in question. The serpent, she who coolly planned the death of our comrades I must make of her a terrible example. She must die." "And Gorgeret, her lover, possibly her accomplice, the man introduced by Pichegru?" "We have nothing to do with him." "What do you think of Pichegru?" "What I always thought! The man who had an understanding with Fauche-Borel and Montgaillard to deliver up Jourdan and the right wing of the Army of the Rhine ? The man who delivered his troops to the Austrians for massacre? ... Of such are the scoundrels with whom we have dealt for the sake of our masters. They hate us, and our inter- course with them leads us to despise ourselves. 260 The Eagle's Talan We must extricate ourselves from all that corruption!" "She must die?" asked Coster, whose mind was busy with his deadly work. "Yes. We must avenge our dead. Ar- range it with Picot. Will Picot be sufficient?" "I need no one else. She is lodged in the Blue Bonnet, the house of a merchant in the rue Saint-Honore. She believes that the matter has been kept secret. We shall arrive suddenly. It will be quick work. She is weak." Cadoudal scowled. "She is a fiend! Be prudent!" "General," Coster answered with a wistful smile, "we do not like the work, but we must do it. In a matter of that kind a man must not be prudent, he must be strong. He must strike, and disappear." CHAPTER XVI THE CHOUANS ACHIEVE REVENGE AFTER a short conference Picot went into a closet and brought out coils of wire, a strong cord, locksmith's nippers, and an iron bar. Then, having wished the Chouans on guard a careless "good-night," the accom- plices passed out of the house. The night was warm and very dark. Picot followed Saint- Victor at a distance of a few yards. They went down the rue Saint-Antoine, passed Saint-Jacques-la-Boucherie, followed the wall of the old Louvre, and reached the Place du Palais-Royal as the clocks in the church- towers struck the half -hour. Like all the people of the gay world of Paris, Saint-Victor had visited the Blue Bonnet. He knew that the house was like many houses; that the mansarde could be reached by the servants stairway, which opened on the court- yard directly opposite the coach-door. There was no concierge. In the mansarde there were two windows, far apart; therefore there were 261 262 The Eagle's Talon two rooms. In the square of the Palais-Royal, the Chouans sat down on a low stone bench, to plan the details of their night's business. "This is a thing that must be done," said Coster. "Justice to the General and to the dead demands it!" Picot muttered, "Taillard and I fought side by side. I liked him well!" "There are two rooms in the mansarde. If she has the habit of sleeping in a lighted room, our way will be clear. If both rooms are dark well, all that will be known when we get there! What tools did you bring? " "A cord strong enough to hang a man, a large silk handkerchief, the gag, the wires I have carried since I left my locksmith shop, and an iron bar." Coster shivered. "This is work for the executioner!" he said after a lugubrious silence. "Who is to strike the blow?" "I, if you will permit me," said Picot. "Taillard was my friend. He would be alive to-night had she not led him into a trap to be killed by the agents of the Corsican. Let me kill her; it is justice." "I shall be glad to be rid of the responsi- bility. To kill a woman " "This is not a woman, she is a viper," Picot The Chouans Achieve Revenge 263 muttered. "She is as active as a tiger. She will defend herself! If she does not kill me, it will not be her fault." "Let us go on," said Coster. Picot bowed his head and put his hand to his ear. "The patrol is coming," he mur- mured. The patrol passed, marching with sounding tread in the street beyond the square. The Chouans were free to act. Lighted by dim street lamps hung long distances apart, the rue Saint-Honore lay like an empty lane. They went on unseen and halted before the coach-door of the Blue Bonnet. When under the hood of the broad entrance, Picot took a roll of wire from one of his pock- ets, bent it into a hook, and worked at the lock. After he had made several fruitless attempts, the bolt of the lock slid back. But the door did not open. Picot drew an iron slat from under his long coat, and slipping it through a crack between the two folds of the door, worked up and down and made a quick movement with his wrist. A panel hidden in the fold of the great door opened. The intruders stepped over the foot- brace, and swinging the panel back, but leav- ing it on the latch, cautiously crossed the dark court and reached the stairs. There 264 The Eagle's Talon they took off their shoes, and put them in their pockets. Silently, moving slowly and with care, as supple and as light as cats, they went up the stairs. When near the landing, they saw a line of light under one of the two doors. In an instant both men stood close to the light. Picot ran his locksmith's pincers under the hinge, raised the door, and swung it back. Fully dressed, lying on her bed, reading by the light of a candle set upon the night stand, the Countess heard the click of metal and dropped her book. Livid, with eyes starting from their sockets, she reached for the pistol placed beside the candle on the stand. A cry, smothered as it rose, died in her throat. Not a sound broke the silence of the tragic seconds that followed. With teeth set over his lip, Picot mastered the condemned woman, as bound and gagged she strove against his indomitable strength. . In the room under the mansarde Bracon- neau, in the dress of an elderly dandy, lay on the long divan. He had persuaded Lerebourg to go to bed. He believed that on that night, when Montmoran's absence from the house in the rue de la Chaussee d'Antin could not yet have been noted, the woman would be safe. He had talked with Lerebourg until the sound The Chouans Achieve Revenge 265 of marching feet warned him of the passing of the patrol. Then he had stretched out upon the divan and closed his eyes. He was a light sleeper, and in sleep his brain worked. He was awakened from his sleep by an intui- tion. Dimly conscious of the passage of something abnormal, he arose and stood close to the door, listening. A pressing anxiety possessed his mind, and a strange tremor assailed his heart. At that moment a board in the floor above his head creaked. He ran through the middle room to the rear room and looked through the window up to the grey wall opposite the mansarde. One of the mansarde windows made a square of pallid light on the wall. In the light square, he saw the shadows of two men in frenzied action. Without a thought of Lerebourg, asleep and unconscious of his peril, the spy went into the corridor, ran up the stairs, and stopped. He saw the door hanging by one hinge, and the Countess lying on the bed, gagged, and with legs and arms writhing in the coils of a slack rope, her eyes staring. Picot had thrown a stout rope over the curtain pole above the window. Saint- Victor, his hands upon his hips, stood near him, watching him as he ran the rope through a loop to form a noose. 266 The Eagle's Talon. "Stand back!" said Picot. "Let me test the pole." As Braconneau reached the door, Coster turned. "Laverniere!" he exclaimed. "Coster de Saint- Victor, and you, Joseph Picot," Braconneau said calmly, "I arrest you." "Ha, old dandy!" Picot answered with a derisive laugh, "you come just in time!" and seizing the unused pistol, he pointed it. As he pulled the trigger, Saint- Victor, who stood close to him, pushed his arm. He faced Braconneau smiling, challenging him by look and attitude. Seized by the invincible emo- tion which acts as a bond between loyal and brave men, as well as by his consciousness of the folly of attacking the two strong Chouans, Braconneau stood still. Saint-Victor saluted, mocking him by the glance of his clear eyes. "And now, Laverniere," he said, "we are quits. You saved my life; I have saved yours. When we meet again look out!' 1 Braconneau took a step forward. Saint- Victor fell upon him with the power of a man who has lived his life in the forest and on the moors. With the quick action of a panther and with the incalculable and crushing force " ' Coster de Saint-Victor, and you, Joseph Picot,' Braconneau said calmly, ' I arrest you.' " The Chouans Achieve Revenge 267 of a bear, he folded the detective in his arms and cast him, half smothered, on the floor. Leaving Braconneau stunned, the woman writhing in her bonds, and Picot with arms akimbo, Saint- Victor hurried from the room and ran down the stairs. Picot threw the Countess over his strong back and followed him. The shot fired by Picot had aroused the neighbourhood. The people were opening their windows and looking into the silent street. The Countess, lying gagged and bound on the landing, saw the Chouan well known to her as Cadoudal's servitor and constant companion put on his shoes, and heard him cry in Breton patois: "Run! Draw him off the scent! I will stay here and do my work!" Lerebourg had steadied himself against the side post of his door. As Picot descended, bearing the writhing woman and carrying the rope, Lerebourg confronted him. Picot swung his arm. Lerebourg fell, and Picot, striding over him, entered the room and closed and locked the door. Saint-Victor heard the key make the double turn; he heard the steady tramp of Picot's hobnailed shoes on the waxed floor. An instant later the 268 The Eagle's Talon light fall of Bracoimeau's boots sounded on the stairs. Braconneau had come to his senses with but one thought in his mind: Fouchef Fouche had told him to take the Chouans. Coster lingered at the foot of the stairs until Bra- conneau, on his way down, caught sight of him as he crossed the court and passed through the little door. When Braconneau stepped over the foot-brace, Coster took to his heels. Braconneau gave chase. As he ran, his mind righted, and he thought of Lerebourg and of the Countess. Braconneau was there to guard the Countess, but the instinct of the hunter was too strong to be controlled. The impulse to return to the defence of the Countess was quelled by the memory of the cries from the open windows of the neighbourhood. "Those people were awake," thought the detective. "Ere this Picot has been secured, and the Countess has been set free. My orders had nothing to do with the Countess. All that I did for her was the result of my own impulses. The chief ordered me to seize the Chouans. This is my opportunity. My men have watched Sinclair's house in vain. The Chouan is too sharp to fall into the trap. He is right here and I must catch him." The Chouans Achieve Revenge 269 They had reached the Place Louis XV. Until that moment Coster had run as a horse trots. Suddenly he gathered speed and ran like the wind. Gifted by nature with ears trained to distinguish sounds indistinguish- able to men of average hearing, Braconneau hearkened in vain to catch the sound of his light feet. Coster seemed to run on air. The grey light that precedes the dawn covered the earth with a ghostly veil. Coster, who had been visible to Braconneau, from the start, ran into the Champs-Elysees and sped onward in the shadow of the trees, crossed the Champs- Elysees, turned into the Cours la Reine, and descended the slope. Standing on the sum- mit of the talus, Braconneau saw the lithe figure sweep downward to the river. His official prowess was at stake ; but he smiled as he watched the swift course of "the handsome boy." He saw the Chouan in the dim light against the river. "Can it be possible?" he thought. "Is he going to swim it? If he takes to the water, I shall lose sight of him. The scamp ! He has escaped me!" Close to the river Coster halted. An instant later a flatboat shot out from the shore. The Chouan leaped into it, seized 27 The Eagle's Talon the oars, with furious pulls swung into the stream, and, turning, cried in a voice that shivered like splintering crystal: "Bon soir, Lavernie"re, philosopher! Re- turn to the Blue Bonnet." "I should have been wise had I never left it!" muttered Braconneau. "Triple sot that I was to let him lure me away!" Arrived at the Blue Bonnet, Braconneau saw a crowd of people. The panel door was open. In the salon on the second floor Lerebourg lay on a divan. The old housekeeper sat beside him. Picot had disappeared, leaving appal- ling evidence of his handiwork. The Countess de Montmoran, the tip of her buskined feet but a hand's-breadth from the floor, hung like a discarded garment on the hook where Lerebourg had displayed costumes. Braconneau cut the cord and let the dead woman glide to the floor. Then he cut the noose and freed the purple throat. Livid, grimacing, her tongue hanging, the Countess de Montmoran was a hideous image of terror and of rage. Her contracted fingers, closed by death, held strands of coarse hair torn from Picot's head. One of the little pearl grey shoes, loosed by repeated spasms of agony, hung at the end of the grey silk buskin. The Chouans Achieve Revenge 271 Braconneau laid her head on the mirror-like floor, and turned to the people who had fol- lowed him up the stairs, and who stood watching him. "Citizens," he said, "I thank you for your attentions. Like myself you have come too late. I am a police official. It is my business to stay here and guard this house and the dead woman. But your places are in your homes. Go home and finish the night like decent citizens, in sleep." He turned to the old housekeeper and said with a peremptory gesture, "Show these good people out; close and bar the door!" Lerebourg made an attempt to rise. Braconneau forced him to lie still. ' ' Ah, ' ' sighed Lerebourg. ' ' What a drama ! It was horrible ! She tore him with her claws ; she maddened him ! I saw him running down the stairs, she, struggling. He felled me with an iron. He strangled her so the old woman tells me seized her by the throat and choked her until she ceased to kick. Then he hung her. She swung like a wet rag. ... A beast, quoil He growled and chuckled as he hung her up." "Half -brute, yet human; capable of faith and devotion!" Braconneau answered. 272 The Eagle's Talon The rigid body on the floor was at full length. The face had lost its grimace, and the features were settling to a look of intense cruelty. ' ' Poor creature ! ' ' sighed Lerebourg. ' ' Can we do nothing for her?" ' ' She is dead, ' ' Braconneau answered. ' ' Do not pity her. You never liked her; I despised her. She was valuable as a political spy; but she was not a woman. She gloated with fero- cious joy over the agony of that poor devil Taillard. She was bad. The world is better off without her." "I received two blows," said Lerebourg. ' ' There were two in the attacking party. Who were they?" Braconneau laughed. "Coster de Saint- Victor and Picot. Either is a match for three men. Coster tricked me. . . . But I shall catch him! I shall get them all to-morrow unless they escape to-night. There must be no dallying; the time has come to act!" He addressed the housekeeper: "My friend," he said, "the sun is rising. Dress your master's wounds and go to bed." "Ah, citizen," moaned the old woman, "I cannot sleep. And that poor creature. . What can we do with her?" The Chouans Achieve Revenge 273 "They will take her away. The weather is bad; they must get her into the ground." The old woman wept, rocking her body.