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Updated: May 19, 2025
Both the wife and the children of Jules Fougere had disappeared since that catastrophe, and so the Vicomte of Talizac, now Marquis of Fougereuse, claimed possession of his father's estate.
Shall we not give this little one a home and a family? I became your wife, your happy, honored companion, and poor Jacques will never know that he owes his life to a base profligate." Simon laid his hand on his wife's head. "Do you know why Simon Fougère wished to make reparation for the crime of the Vicomte de Talizac?" "Because Simon Fougère had a loyal and generous heart!"
La Fougere, who had been with Chamois at Dunkirk, was arrested on his way to Bruges by some patriotic citizens who had got wind of what had just been occurring in the other cities, so that when Palette, the provost of Anjou, and Colonel la Rebours, at the head of fifteen hundred French troops, appeared before the gates, entrance was flatly refused.
The duchess had a library of her own; and we hear of her borrowing romances from ladies in attendance on the blue- stocking Margaret of Scotland. Not only were books collected, but new books were written at the court of Blois. The widow of one Jean Fougere, a bookbinder, seems to have done a number of odd commissions for the bibliophilous count.
The Vicomte de Talizac, the Vicomtesse, and their son, detested Pierre and watched him closely, with what aim they alone knew. "I went to the Vosges, master," said Pierre. "I learned that the soldier known by the name of Simon Fougère had gone to Lorraine. I could learn nothing more.
No one knew. He had a benevolent face, and he liked to talk of Simon Fougère, and made the villagers tell him the story of his death over and over again. Sometimes he was seen to listen with tears in his eyes. "He knew him, that's sure!" said the peasants. He selected a man and his wife to keep the inn. They had two children, a boy and a girl. The girl was named Francine.
My name is Françoise, and I am the widow of Simon Fougère." "Mother! dear mother!" This shock has been so great that the vail that obscured the poor woman's brain was rent in twain. She sees, she knows, she understands. It is he it is the boy she held on her knees, in those days so long ago. He took her tenderly in his arms, and both weep.
It was therefore necessary for him to adopt the other. He then unfolded his plan to his confidential friends, La Fougere, De Fazy, Palette, the sons of Marechal Biron, and others. Upon the same day, if possible, he was determined to take possession, with his own troops, of the principal cities in Flanders.
This sign hung over the door of the tavern at Leigoutte; your brother, the rightful heir of Fougereuse, was the landlord and the bravest man for miles around. In the year 1805 Jules Fougere, as he called himself, fell. The world said Cossacks had murdered him. I, though, vicomte, I cry it aloud in your ear his murderer was you!"
He looks eagerly into the eyes of the poor woman. He recognizes her; he leans over her. "You called me Jacques, did you not? Yes, that was my name, when I was a boy in a village among the mountains. My father's name was Simon, Simon Fougère, and I had a little sister Cinette." The woman quivered from head to foot. She threw her arms around his neck. "Jacques! my child!
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