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Updated: May 11, 2025
The thought was in the minds of both as they scanned each other, each noting in the other the marked change that a few months had wrought. In Le Chapelier, Andre-Louis observed certain heightened refinements of dress that went with certain subtler refinements of countenance.
He carried himself with an aggressive, masterful air, that great head of his thrown back as if he were eternally at defiance. Le Chapelier, whose manner was very grave, named him to Andre-Louis. "This is M. Danton, a brother-lawyer, President of the Cordeliers, of whom you will have heard." Of course Andre-Louis had heard of him. Who had not, by then?
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 whilst that was taking place in the street below, in the room abovestairs the eloquent Le Chapelier was addressing his colleagues of the Literary Chamber. Here, with no bullets to fear, and no one to report his words to the authorities, Le Chapelier could permit his oratory a full, unintimidated flow.
Rising in response to the storm of applause that greeted the proposal, Andre-Louis bowed and forthwith yielded. "Be it so," he said, simply. "It is perhaps fitting that I should carry out what I have begun, though I too am of the opinion that Le Chapelier would have been a worthier representative. I will set out to-night."
He went to seek Le Chapelier, who had been one of the founders of the club, a man of great prominence now, president of the Assembly in this important season when it was deliberating upon the Declaration of the Rights of Man. Le Chapelier's importance was reflected in the sudden servility of the shirt-sleeved, white-aproned waiter of whom Andre-Louis inquired for the representative.
It cut him keenly; but he bore the wound with that outward stoicism he affected. Next morning, at a quarter past eight, as with Le Chapelier who had come to break his fast with him he was rising from table to set out for the Bois, his housekeeper startled him by announcing Mademoiselle de Kercadiou. He looked at his watch.
The deputy-suppleant looked round and waited. Near at hand he met the encouraging grin of Le Chapelier, and the quiet, approving smile of Kersain, another Breton deputy of his acquaintance.
"That is a duty you will oblige me by neglecting," laughed Andre-Louis, and drove away. Later in the week he received a visit from Le Chapelier just before noon. "I have news for you, Andre. Your godfather is at Meudon. He arrived there two days ago. Had you heard?" "But no. How should I hear? Why is he at Meudon?" He was conscious of a faint excitement, which he could hardly have explained.
"You will set out at once, my lad," Le Chapelier informed him, and now revealed what an uncharitable mind might account the true source of his generosity. "It is not safe after what has happened for you to linger an hour in Rennes. And you must go secretly. Let none of you allow it to be known that he has gone. I would not have you come to harm over this, Andre-Louis.
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