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"In its results. But it might have been far other. Mirabeau is challenged and insulted now at every sitting. But he goes his way, cold-bloodedly wise. Others are not so circumspect; they meet insult with insult, blow with blow, and blood is being shed in private duels. The thing is reduced by these swordsmen of the nobility to a system." Andre-Louis nodded. He was thinking of Philippe de Vilmorin.
"If you send that to Paris by young Rougane in the morning," said Andre-Louis, "Aline should be here by noon. Nothing, of course, could be done to-night without provoking suspicion. The hour is too late. And now, monsieur my godfather, you know exactly why I intrude in violation of your commands. If there is any other way in which I can serve you, you have but to name it whilst I am here."
On the fourth disengage I shall touch you. Allons! En garde!" And as he promised, so it happened. The young gentleman who, hitherto, had held no great opinion of Andre-Louis' swordsmanship, accounting him well enough for purposes of practice when the master was otherwise engaged, opened wide his eyes.
Haven't I said it?" "That is where we require your help," Le Chapelier put in. "There must be men of patriotic feeling among the more advanced of your pupils. M. Danton's idea is that a little band of these say a half-dozen, with yourself at their head might read these bullies a sharp lesson." Andre-Louis frowned. "And how, precisely, had M. Danton thought that this might be done?"
And then, at last, Andre-Louis set down knife and fork, washed his throat with a draught of Burgundy, and sat back in his chair to consider Climene. "I trust," said he, "that you had a pleasant ride, mademoiselle." "Most pleasant, monsieur." Impudently she strove to emulate his coolness, but did not completely succeed. "And not unprofitable, if I may judge that jewel at this distance.
M. de Kercadiou's face turned from pink to purple. "You have quite finished?" he said harshly. "If you have understood me, monsieur." "Oh, I have understood you, and... and I beg that you will go." Andre-Louis shrugged his shoulders and hung his head. He had come there so joyously, in such yearning, merely to receive a final dismissal. He looked at Aline.
He waited now to see the same thing happen to this youthful lawyer from Gavrillac. But he waited in vain. Andre-Louis found him ridiculous. He knew pretentiousness for the mask of worthlessness and weakness. And here he beheld pretentiousness incarnate. It was to be read in that arrogant poise of the head, that scowling brow, the inflexion of that reverberating voice.
"To be general, because he is always wrong. To be particular, because I judge the audience of Guichen to be too sophisticated for 'The Heartless Father." "You would put it more happily," interposed Andre-Louis who was the cause of this discussion "if you said that 'The Heartless Father' is too unsophisticated for the audience of Guichen." "Why, what's the difference?" asked Leandre.
To her in her limited knowledge, her mind filled with her uncle's contrary conviction, it seemed that Andre-Louis was only acting; he would act a part to the very end. Be that as it might, she shifted her ground to answer him. "You had my uncle's letter?" "And I answered it." "I know. But what he said, he will fulfil. Do not dream that he will relent if you carry out this horrible purpose."
Bringing up the rear came Andre-Louis leading the two donkeys that dragged the property-cart. He had insisted upon assuming a false nose, representing as for embellishment that which he intended for disguise. For the rest, he had retained his own garments. No one paid any attention to him as he trudged along beside his donkeys, an insignificant rear guard, which he was well content to be.
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