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Updated: June 16, 2025
The sight of him was a revelation to Bellecour. This assault was Souvestre's work; the fellow had been inciting the people of Bellecour for the past twelve months, long indeed before the outbreak of the revolution proper, and at last he had roused them to the pitch of accompanying him upon his errand of tardy but relentless vengeance. With a growl the Marquis raised his pistol.
At its head rode the Marquis de Bellecour, the Vicomte, and a half-dozen other gentlemen, followed by, perhaps, a dozen lacqueys. It was a hunting party that was making its way across the village to the open country beyond.
That much, however, he would do, and like him whose resources are reduced, and yet who desires to spend the little that he has to best advantage, he levelled the weapon boldly at the advancing Marquis, and pulled the trigger. But Bellecour was an old campaigner, and by an old campaigner's trick he saved himself at the last moment.
In the infernal din of that fight upon the stairs they had not caught the sound of this approach until now that the new-comers whoever they might be were at the very gates of Bellecour. From the mob in the yard there came a sudden outcry. Men sprang to the door of the Chateau and shouted to those within. "Aux Armes," was the cry. "A nous, d nous!"
"Perhaps our comrade might feel better over a hand at picquet." "Ten straws a point!" exclaimed Bellecour. "Dame, it seems to me I know his face. Where have I met you, sir?" "De Lincy, pardieu!" Grancey echoed, scrutinising the new-comer's features.
Some anger there was particularly in the heart of the Lord of Bellecour but greater than their anger was their excitement at the prospect of a man-hunt, with which the chase on which they had been originally bent made but a poor comparison. "There he is, Monseigneur" cried Jean, as he pointed to La Boulaye. "And yonder are the girl and her husband." "Ah!
He reddened slightly when it came to speaking of his love for Mlle. de Bellecour, but he realised that if he would have guidance he must withhold nothing from his friend. Duhamel's face grew dark as the young man spoke, and his eyes became sad and very thoughtful. "Alas!" he sighed, when La Boulaye had ended. "What shall I say to you, my friend?
To him it seemed that she was right, and that love never died for the love for her, which he believed he had throttled out of existence long ago, seemed of a sudden to take life as vigorously as ever. And then it was as if some breeze out of the past bore to his nostrils the smell of the violets and of the moist earth of that April morning when she had repulsed him in the woods of Bellecour.
Next day he proceeded to the Square of Bellecour, where, amidst the plaudits of the people, he laid the first stone of some new buildings destined to efface one of the disasters of the Revolution. We left Lyons that evening and continued our journey by way of Dijon. On our arrival in that town the joy of the inhabitants was very great.
He halted at Lyons to lay the first stone of the new Place de Bellecour, erected on the ruins of a great square destroyed by the Jacobins during the revolutionary madness; and reached the Tuileries on the 2nd of July. He had set out for Switzerland on the 6th of May. Two months had not elapsed, and in that brief space what wonders had been accomplished!
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