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"A war name, I suppose," said the old man. "I was called 'l'Intime, the Comte de Fontaine 'Grand-Jacques, the Marquis de Montauran the 'Gars. I was the friend of Ferdinand, who never submitted, any more than I did. Ah! those were the good times; people shot each other, but what of that? we amused ourselves all the same, here and there."
Montauran at last made a painful effort and said, in a muffled voice, "Will you never forgive me?" "Love forgives nothing, or it forgives all," she said, coldly. "But," she added, noticing his joyful look, "it must be love." She took the count's arm once more and moved forward into a small boudoir which adjoined the cardroom. The marquis followed her. "Will you not hear me?" he said.
Do you understand?" As Monsieur de Fontaine heard these words he gave Montauran a look of keen intelligence which seemed to say that the marquis had not himself understood the real meaning of the words addressed to him.
"I am an emigre, condemned to death, and my name is Vicomte de Bauvan. Love of my country has brought me back to France to join my brother. I hope to be taken off the list of emigres through the influence of Madame de Beauharnais, now the wife of the First Consul; but if I fail in this, I mean to die on the soil of my native land, fighting beside my friend Montauran.
His want of education made him quite incapable of taking part in a conversation of this kind; he supposed that the talking pair were very witty, but his efforts at comprehension were limited to discovering whether they were plotting against the Republic in covert language. "Montauran," the count was saying, "has birth and breeding, he is a charming fellow, but he doesn't understand gallantry.
The captain followed him mechanically, saying in a low voice: "It is that devil of a strumpet that caused all this. What will Hulot say?" "Strumpet!" cried the marquis in a strangled voice, "then she is one?" The captain seemed to have given Montauran a death-blow, for he re-entered the house with a staggering step, pale, haggard, and undone.
But believe in my experience times have changed." "Yes," said La Billardiere, who now joined them. "You are young, marquis. Listen to me; your property has not yet been sold " "Ah!" cried Montauran, "can you conceive of devotion without sacrifice?" "Do you really know the king?" "I do." "Then I admire your loyalty."
They parted, the Vendean leader convinced of the necessity of yielding to circumstances and keeping his beliefs in the depths of his heart; La Billardiere to return to his negotiations in England; and Montauran to fight savagely and compel the Vendeans, by the victories he expected to win, to co-operate in his enterprise.
"Mademoiselle, what service have I rendered you that deserves a return?" said Madame du Gua, biting her lips in a sort of rage. "Did you not enlighten me as to the true character of the Marquis de Montauran, madame? With what utter indifference that man allowed me to go to my death! I give him up to you willingly!" "Then why are you here?" asked Madame du Gua, eagerly.
As for me, whether I succeed or fail, I can make all results further my ends. If you marry Montauran, I shall be delighted to serve the Bourbons in Paris, where I am already a member of the Clichy club. Now, if circumstances were to put me in correspondence with the princes I should abandon the interests of the Republic, which is already on its last legs.
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