Chapter 14

[1]See, for fuller details,La Vendée et Madame,an account written by me from Dermoncourt's notes.

M. Maurice Duval is made Préfet of the Loire-Inférieure—The Nantais give him a charivari—Deutz's persistent attempts to see Madame—He obtains a first and then a second audience—Besieging of the maison Duguigny—The hiding-place—The police searches—Discovery of the duchess

Some days after Deutz's arrival in Nantes, no doubt in order to combine measures with him, M. Maurice Duval was made préfet of the Loire-Inférieure. This unpopular appointment, the callous dismissal of M. de Saint-Aignan and the manner in which he received the news of his replacement, all elated the spirits of the Nantais; further, M. Maurice Duval's Grenoble reputation preceded him; one alone of these reasons would have been enough to cost him an ordinary charivari: all these reasons together were worth what, under governments by majorities, may be termed the King of Charivaris.

It was on 19 October that the news spread through Nantes of the dismissal of M. de Saint-Aignan and the appointment of M. Maurice Duval, who was to have arrived the same day but did not do so until the following day, the 20th. Soon the most hostile demonstrations began to be shown. Those who had instruments for making a hurly-burly, such as skillets, rattles, whistles, speaking-trumpets which could be heard a mile off, etc. etc., instinctively laid hands on them; those who had none ran to borrow them from their friends; those, finally, who had neither instruments nor friends, used the oddest means of taking part in the great popular concert which was being prepared; some went through the town insearch of bells, unfastened them from the very cows which chance led in their way; others seized little bells from a founder's and, with a stick, carried at each end by two men, set up a walking tocsin. A general levy of cow-horns was made and more than six hundred persons were provided with this instrument, which, as every one knows, needs no preparatory study. A dealer in whistles, who, apart from this event, would never have got rid of his wares, established himself in the square and sold everything he had on his stall!

Between four and five o'clock, a party of musicians assembled; in order to do greater honour to the préfet, they decided to go in front of him; consequently, they threaded their way along the road by which the majesty must arrive. The authorities, who had seen the general enthusiasm and were afraid of stopping it in its first inception, satisfied themselves by sending a staff officer to M. Maurice Duval to warn him of the reception being prepared for him. M. Maurice Duval, profiting by the warning, sent his carriage alone and entered the town incognito. He thus momentarily paid his inconvenient visitors tit for tat. Nevertheless, the report soon spread abroad that the préfet had arrived at theHôtel de Francein the place de la Comédie. The charivariseurs burst into the square, but it was too small to hold them all: the body of musicians alone, like one of those huge tarentula spiders, crammed itself into the square and spread its legs out into all the adjacent streets; it was a racket fit to split the head of a deaf man! Persons whose word could be trusted, who lived two leagues from the town, have since declared upon their honour that they had heard the uproar; it is not surprising: there were probably ten thousand musicians, five thousand more than Nero had, who, as we know, made a great fuss of his music. When the concert was at its height, a man on foot forced himself through the popular flood and made vain efforts to enter theHôtel de France,the doors of which wereshut; he was compelled to mingle among the charivariseurs and to join in the chorus with them: it was M. Maurice Duval. Next day he took possession of the préfecture. The news of his installation at least assured the musicians that their pains had not been lost upon the object for whom they were intended. Consequently, about five o'clock, the orchestra banded itself together on the place de la Préfecture; it was larger and noisier than on the previous night! but, as our French character soon tires of everything, even of a charivari, on the third day a large portion of musicians were missing at the call. The powers then thought they could put an end to the serenade. Between six and seven in the evening, squadrons of gendarmerie and infantry of the line issued out on the square and took possession of the surrounding streets. The performers thought with reason it was time to finish, and retired before the troops, continuing to make a row during their retreat, which bore quite the colour of a victory. Next day, perfect calm was restored, and M. Duval made a speech in which he pleaded that he had been misjudged, saying, among other things, that his works bore witness to his patriotism. Now, as the work upon which he counted the most in order to convert people's minds was the capture of the duchess, he began to contrive measures to prevent her escaping. This leads us naturally to Deutz.

We have said what vigilance surrounded Madame; she herself had even decided it was necessary to become invisible to her friends when it was not indispensable to receive them: this circumstance nearly brought failure upon the treacherous schemes. Deutz knew very well that the duchess was in Nantes, but the whole city was equally well informed of that. The house she lived in was the important thing to know and this Deutz did not know. He succeeded in getting his arrival known to her; but the duchess, fearing at first that this was a snare of the police or that some other man than Deutz mightpresent himself under his name, refused to receive him, at least until he had entrusted his dispatches to a third party. Deutz sent reply that he was going to spend a few days at Paimbeuf, and, on his return, he proposed to do himself the honour, with the hope of being more fortunate, of soliciting Madame afresh for the audience he had asked of her. He did really leave Nantes with his companion, M. Joly, attached to his person as a police constable or guard. Both went to Paimbeuf, one posing as a capitalist anxious to buy land, and the other as a surveyor. The journey lasted upwards of a week or ten days. On his return, Deutz renewed his instances, but without any greater success; he then determined to send to the duchess the important dispatches which he was entrusted to hand to her. On receiving the papers Madame was thoroughly convinced of his identity, and no longer hesitated to receive him. There, on Wednesday, 28 October, at seven in the evening, Deutz was conducted to the house of the ladies Duguigny, where he was introduced without knowing either the street or the place of interview. After an hour and a half's interview he took leave of the duchess, convinced that she left the house the same time as he did and that she had received him at the house of some devoted persons and not at her own. He could not, therefore, either give sufficiently accurate information as to locality, nor swear positively enough in what place they were certain to find the fugitive, for them to risk an attempted arrest which might have no other result than that of putting the duchess on her guard.

Deutz asked for a second interview, pretending that he had been so much agitated in the princess's presence that he had forgotten to communicate things of the highest importance. The duchess and those round her did not think she ought to receive him a second time; not out of distrust of him, but for fear that, being a stranger to Nantes, he might be observed and followed by the police.They therefore replied that they would send for the dispatches which he had for the duchess, but that she refused to receive him personally. So positively expressed a refusal threw all the agents of the superior and inferior police into a state of alarm. They discovered a nun who had, and deserved, Madame's complete confidence; Deutz, under his guise of piety, easily deceived the good sister and persuaded her that he had really most important matters to communicate to the duchess, which he had forgotten through emotion during his first interview with her. The sister, convinced that the demanded audience must be of great concern to Madame, hastened to entreat her to see him. Meanwhile, Deutz and his companions applauded themselves on their happy idea of making piety and trust the accomplices of their treachery. The good nun returned triumphant, bringing the promise for an audience on 6 November. That errand, made with the best intentions, is said to have since cost her many tears!

Deutz rushed to give notice to the police. Nothing could have been easier than for the duchess to leave Nantes: more than a hundred and fifty of her followers, well known and seriously compromised since the taking up of arms, had left France, and not a single one had been arrested. The duchess knew this very well. She often said, "I can leave when I like!" Her friends urged her to leave France, where her presence could be no longer of service to her cause; to persuade her to do so, they represented to her that the chiefs of her party, who were most deeply complicated on her account, were daily exposed, because, attached to her fortunes by their pledges and feelings of honour, they would not leave their country whilst she herself remained in France and incurred dangers. A safe means was proposed by M. Guibourg; a vessel was found and equipped; finally, the duchess consented to fly; she was to take with her M. de Ménars and Petit-Paul (Mademoiselle Eulalie deKersabiec), This decision was taken on 4 November, and the day of departure was fixed for the 14th.

On 6 November, at four in the afternoon, Deutz was brought to the duchess, but clever agents watched all his proceedings and followed his track. Scarcely had he entered the maison Duguigny before he recognised the locality; it was therefore probable that the duchess lived here. When Deutz was admitted to the princess, he rehearsed to her with much skill and in moving tones a story he had concocted upon the important matters he had forgotten concerning her dear Henri and good Louise; he spoke with enthusiasm of his great admiration for Madame's courage and of his devotion to her noble cause. He was interrupted in the expression of his sentiments by the arrival of a letter which the duchess gave to M. de Ménars. It was written in white ink; M. de Ménars wet it with some prepared water which made the characters become readable, and then handed it to the duchess, who read it aloud before Deutz. The writer recommended Madame not to neglect any precaution; and said they knew she would be betrayed by a person in whom she had entire confidence. Turning towards Deutz, Madame then said—

"You hear, Deutz? they tell me I shall be betrayed by some one in whom I have entire confidence. Will that be you?"

"Oh! Madame," replied Deutz, with that aplomb peculiar to great traitors, "Your Royal Highness cannot imagine such infamy on my part! I, who have given many unmistakable proofs of my fidelity! But certainly too many precautions cannot be taken."

The duchess dismissed Deutz, after an hour's interview, showering tokens of confidence and kindness upon him. He soon flew off to the préfet's house. Whilst passing the dining-room, he had glanced through the half-opened door and counted seven places laid at the table; he knew that the Demoiselles Duguigny lived by themselves in thehouse: it was therefore evident that the duchess was going to dine there. Deutz told M. Maurice Duval what he had seen, and urged him to hurry so that they might arrive in the middle of dinner, as he was uncertain whether the duchess was stopping in the house.

The préfet, who, since morning, had been planning measures with the military authorities, to whom the state of siege gave ruling power, quickly repaired to Comte d'Erlon, after he had previously entrusted Deutz to the care of a policeman, who was not to leave him whilst they were making sure of the truth of his statement. General Dermoncourt was immediately informed by Comte d'Erlon, and, ten minutes later, all the military preparations were arranged and orders given to the commander of the town, Colonel Simon Lorrière.

Quite a large body of troops was necessary, for two reasons: first, because there might be a revolt among the population; secondly, because they had to surround quite a block of houses. Consequently, nearly twelve hundred men were on foot. They had had orders to be ready since the morning. The two battalions were divided into three columns, commanded by General Dermoncourt, who was accompanied by Comte d'Erlon and the préfet, who directed operations. The first column, headed by the commandant of the fort, went down le Cours, leaving sentinels one by one along the walls of the bishop's garden and the houses contiguous to it, passed along by the château fosses and reached the front of the maison Duguigny, where it deployed. The second and third columns, with General Dermoncourt at their head, crossed the place Saint-Pierre and there divided: one with the general remaining at its head went down the high street, made a turn by the rue des Ursulines and rejoined M. Simon Lorrière's column by the rue Basse-du-Château; the other, after the general left it, went straight down the rue Haute-du-Château and, under the leadership of Colonel Lafeuille of the 56th, and of Commandant Vairés,joined the two first and united with them opposite the maison Duguigny. Thus the investment was complete.

It was about six o'clock in the evening and a beautiful night. Through the windows of the apartment where the duchess was, she could look out on a calm sky and the rising moon and see, cut out clear against the light, like a dark silhouette, the massive, motionless and silent towers of the ancient château. There are moments when nature seems so gentle and friendly that it is impossible to believe a threatening danger lurks in the midst of such calm! The fears awakened by the letter the duchess had received from Paris vanished before this scene, when, suddenly, M. Guibourg, upon going nearer to the window, saw bayonets glitter as the column led by Colonel Simon Lorrière advanced towards the house. Instantly, he flung himself backwards, crying, "Save yourself, Madame, save yourself!" Madame rushed at once to the staircase and every one followed her. The hiding-place had been tried; it was known that it could only hold a certain number, and those of a certain size, and this order was adopted. It could, at a pinch, hold four persons, during the time of an ordinary visit. When they reached it and opened the door in the chimney, M. de Ménars entered, and was followed by M. Guibourg; there remained Mademoiselle Stylite de Kersabiec, who did not want to go in before Madame. The duchess laughingly said to her—

"By the rules of good strategy, Stylite, when a retreat is being made the commander should remain to the last."

Mademoiselle Stylite then went in and the duchess behind her.

The soldiers opened the street door as that of the hiding-place was shut; they invaded therez-de-chaussée,preceded by inspectors of police from Paris and Nantes, who marched pistols in hand: one of them, in his inexperience of the use of that weapon, fired and wounded his hand. The band spread over the house. The general'sduty was to surround it, and he had done it: the duty of the police was to search it, and he let them do it. M. Joly perfectly recognised the interior from the details Deutz had given him. He found the table, which had not yet been sat down to, with its seven covers laid, although the two Demoiselles Duguigny, Madame Charette and Mademoiselle Céleste de Kersabiec were, apparently, the only inhabitants of the room. He began by quietening the minds of these ladies and, going upstairs like a man accustomed to the house, he went straight to the attic, recognized it, and said in a voice loud enough for the duchess to hear—

"This is the audience chamber."

From that moment, Madame had no longer any doubt that the treachery of which the letter from Paris spoke came from Deutz.[1]That letter lay open upon the table; M. Joly took possession of it and thus gained the proof that Madame was in the house; he had but to find her. Sentinels were posted in every room, whilst soldiers closed all means of egress. The people collected in a crowd and formed a second circle round the soldiers. The whole town had come out into the squares and streets, but not a single royalist sign was shown, only grave curiosity; every person felt the importance of the event about to happen.

Search was begun inside the house, furniture was opened when the keys were discovered, broken into when they were missing. Sappers and masons sounded the floors and walls with great blows from axes and hammers. Architects, taken into every room, declared it was impossible, after comparing the internal construction withthe external for them to enclose a hiding-place or, indeed, to discover it if they did; in one of the rooms they found various articles, such as prints, jewellery, silver, belonging to the ladies Duguigny, which, at that juncture, added to the certainty of the princess's residence in the house. When the architects reached the attic, whether from ignorance or from generosity on their part, they declared that here, less than any other place, there could not be a secret hiding-place. They then passed on to the neighbouring houses, where the search was continued; after an instant the duchess heard the blows of a hammer being struck at the wall of the room next to her hiding-place; they were hit with such force that pieces of plaster were loosened and fell on the captives and, for a moment, they were afraid that the whole wall would crash down upon them. Madame also heard the abuse and swearing of the tired soldiers enraged at the fruitlessness of their searchings.

"We shall be cut to pieces," she said, "that will be the end of us, my poor children!"

Then, addressing her companions, she said—

"It is for my sake you are in this terrible situation!"

Whilst these things were going on above, the ladies Duguigny had displayed great nerve and, although kept in sight by the soldiers, they had sat down to table, inviting Madame Charette and Mademoiselle Céleste de Kersabiec to do the same. Two other women were even more particularly the objects of surveillance on the part of the police: these were the lady's-maid, Charlotte Moreau, whom Deutz had pointed out as very devoted to the duchess's interests, and the cook, Marie Bossy. The latter was taken to the château and from there to the barracks of the gendarmerie, where, seeing she withstood all threats, they tried bribery: bigger and bigger sums were successively offered her, but she persisted that she did not know where the Duchesse de Berry was. As for Baroness Charette, she was first of all mistaken forone of the Kersabiec ladies, and taken after the dinner with her supposed sister to the latter's house, which is thirty or forty yards higher up the same street.

Well, after fruitless searchings through half the night, they began to slacken their efforts; they thought the duchess had escaped, and two or three other useless descents attempted in other localities seemed to point to the same conclusion. The préfet, therefore, gave the signal for a retreat, leaving a sufficient number of men to occupy every room in the house, out of precaution, whilst police agents established themselves on the ground floor; the surrounding of the house was continued and the National Guard came to relieve half the troops of the line whilst they took a little rest. This distribution of sentinels left two gendarmes in the attic which contained the hiding-place; the hiders were, therefore, obliged to keep motionless, fatiguing as was the position for four persons crowded into a space three and a half feet long by eighteen inches wide at one end and eight to ten inches at the other. The men experienced one more discomfort still, the place was narrower in the highest part, thus leaving them scarcely room to stand upright, even if they put their heads among the rafters; in addition to this, it was a damp night and the fog filtered in through the slates and on the prisoners; but no one dared complain, as the princess did not do so. The cold was so keen that the gendarmes who were in the room could not stand it; one of them went downstairs and came back with some blocks of peat and, ten minutes later, a magnificent fire was blazing in the fireplace against the door behind which the duchess was concealed. This fire, which was only lit for the benefit of two persons, was soon of advantage to six; and, frozen as they were, the prisoners at first congratulated themselves; but the comfort the fire brought soon changed to insufferable discomfort: the door and the wall of the chimney-place, becoming warm, communicated an ever increasing heat to the littleretreat; soon the wall was so hot they could not bear to touch it, and the door became red-hot at the same time; furthermore, although it was not yet dawn, the work of the searchers began again; iron bars and planks of wood struck the wall of the hiding-place with redoubled blows till it shook; it seemed to the prisoners as though they were knocking down the maison Duguigny and the neighbouring houses. The duchess had then no other chance of hope; if she withstood the flames, she would be crushed beneath the ruins. Still, her courage and cheerfulness never left her through it all, and several times, as she has since told, she could not keep herself from laughing at the free soldierly conversation of the two guardian gendarmes; one of them made a hint that was more than slight upon the effect produced by camp—beds; the duchess made a mental note of this suggestion, and we shall see with what result. But the conversation soon dragged; one of the gendarmes was asleep, in spite of the fearful din they were making close to him in the next houses; for, for the twentieth time, the search was concentrated round their hiding-place. His companion, warmed for the moment, had ceased attending to the fire and the door and wall grew cold again. M. de Ménars had managed to loosen several slates from the roof and the outer air had freshened the internal atmosphere. All fears turned on the demolishers; they hammered on the wall next the prisoners with great blows and against a cupboard near the fireplace; at each blow the plaster was loosened and fell in dust inside; at last, they thought they were lost, but the workman left that part of the house which, from the instinct of destroyers, they had explored very minutely. The prisoners breathed again and the duchess thought she was saved. But that hope did not last long.

The gendarme who kept watch, seeing the noise had definitely stopped and wishing to take advantage of the moment of silence, shook his comrade so that he couldhave his turn of sleep. The other had grown cold during his sleep and woke up frozen. He had hardly opened his eyes before he set to work to get himself warm again: consequently, he relit the fire and, as the peat did not burn up fast enough, he used a huge bundle ofQuotidiennenewspapers which had been thrown under the table in the room to light up the fire, which again sparkled in the fireplace. The fire produced by the papers gave out a thick smoke and a more lively heat than the peat had done the first time. Hence arose now a very real danger to the prisoners. The smoke penetrated through the cracks in the chimney-wall, which had been shaken by the hammerings, and the door, which was not yet cold, was soon as red-hot as a forge. The air of the hiding-place became less and less fit to breathe; those inside were obliged to put their mouths to the cracks between the slates in order to breathe the fresh air in place of the fiery air inside. The duchess suffered the most, for, having been the last to enter, she had to lean against the door. Each of her companions offered repeatedly to change places with her, but she would not consent. Meanwhile, to the danger of being suffocated was added a new one, that of being burned alive. The door, as we have said, was red-hot and the bottom of the ladies' clothing threatened to catch fire. Already, two or three times the fire had caught the duchess's dress and she had put it out with her hands, burning them so that for a long time after she bore the marks of the bums. Every minute the air inside became rarer and the outer air which came through the holes in the roof was too small in quantity to refresh it. The prisoners grew more and more stifled. To remain ten minutes longer in that furnace would be to endanger the duchess's life. Each of them begged her to go out, but she alone did not wish to do so. Great tears of anger rolled down from her eyes and were dried on her eyelids by the hot air. The fire again burnt her dress and again she extinguished it. But the movement she made in gettingup lifted the latch of the door and it opened a little way. Mlle. de Kersabiec at once put out her hand to draw it back into its place and burnt herself very severely. The movement of the door had rolled away the turfs leant against it, and had roused the attention of the gendarme, who was relieving his boredom by reading theQuotidienne,and who thought he had built up his pyrotechnic edifice with great firmness. The sound produced by Mlle. de Kersabiec's efforts caused a strange notion to spring into his head: he imagined there were rats in the chimney and, thinking the heat was going to compel them to come out, he awoke his comrade and both put themselves in readiness to give chase to them with their sabres. All this time the heat and smoke were increasing the tortures of the prisoners more and more. The door moved and one of the gendarmes said, "Who is there?" Mlle. Stylite replied—

"We will give ourselves up: we are going to open the door; take away the fire."

The two men sprang to the fire which they at once kicked aside. The duchess came out first; she was obliged to put her feet and hands on the burning hearth; her companions followed her. It has half-past nine in the morning, and for sixteen hours they had been shut up in the hiding-place without any food.

[1]Amongst the men in Paris whom King Louis-Philippe believed to be most devoted to him, persons who kept him informed of all that went on at the Tuileries and in the Government, were friends pledged to the duchess; it would, indeed, be very interesting to mention the names of those who had sent this warning to Madame, if the naming of them were not on my part a denunciation.

First moments after the arrest—Madame's 13,000 francs—What a gendarme can win by sleeping on a camp-bed and making philosophic reflections thereon—The duchess at the Château de Nantes—She is transferred to Blaye—Judas

Madame's first words were to ask for Dermoncourt. One of the gendarmes went downstairs to fetch the general. He quickly came up to the duchess, accompanied by M. Baudot, the deputy to the king's attorney at Nantes, as well as by several officers who were there.

When the general entered, the princess had left the hiding-place and was in the room where she had seen Deutz, which M. Joly had called theaudience chamber.She was concealed behind a kind of cupboard to avoid being stared at by the inquisitive persons who came up on purpose to look at her. Hardly had Mlle. de Kersabiec uttered the words, "The General!" than Madame came out and rushed so quickly towards Dermoncourt as nearly to fall into his arms.

"General," she said earnestly, "I give myself up to you and trust myself to your sense of honour."

"Madame," he replied, "Your Highness is under the protection of the honour of France."

He conducted her to a chair; her face was pale, her head bare, her hair was as short on her forehead as a man's: she wore aNeapolitandress, simply made and of a brown colour, with holes burned in it near the bottom; and her feet were shod in small list slippers. As she sat down, she remarked to Dermoncourt, pressing his arm vigorously—

"General, I have nothing to reproach myself with; I have fulfilled the duty of a mother to reconquer the heritage of her son."

Her voice was curt and emphatic. Hardly was she seated, before she looked round for the other prisoners and, not seeing M. Guibourg, she sent for him; then, turning to Dermoncourt, she said—

"General, I desire not to be separated from my companions in misfortune."

The general promised it in the name of Comte d'Erlon, hoping that the general-in-chief would respect his promise.

Madame seemed very much agitated and, although pale, was as excited as though she were in a fever. The general brought her a glass of water, with which she moistened her lips; its coolness calmed her a little. Dermoncourt suggested she should drink another glassful: she accepted his offer, but it was not an easy matter to obtain a second glass in that house, as everything was turned upside down. At last they brought one, but the duchess would have had to drink it without sugar if Dermoncourt had not caught sight of M. de Ménars in a corner. Luckily, he bethought him that he was a likely man to carry sugar about with him. He asked him, so sure he was that he would have some and, indeed, after feeling about in his pockets, M. de Ménars found two lumps, which he offered to the general. The duchess melted them in the water, stirring them with a paper-knife, for it would have taken too much time to find a spoon, and it was quite useless to think of trying to do so. When the princess had drunk, she made Dermoncourt sit down by her.

Meantime, Rusconi and the general's aide-de-camp had gone to Comte d'Erlon and M. Maurice Duval to tell them what had happened. M. Maurice Duval arrived first. He entered the room with his hat on his head as though there was not a woman prisoner there who, by her rank and misfortunes, deserved more respect than had ever been paid to himself. He went up to the duchess,looked at her, whilst he cavalierly put up his hand to his hat and scarcely raising it from his head, he said—

"Ah! Yes it is indeed she!"

Then out he went to give his orders.

"Who is that man?" the princess asked the general.

Her question was natural enough, for the préfet came on the scenes without any of the distinguishing marks of his high administrative position.

"Does Madame not guess?" replied Dermoncourt.

The princess looked at the general with a slight smile.

"Can it be the préfet," she said.

"Madame could not have guessed more correctly had she seen his licence."

"Did the man serve under the Restoration?"

"No, Madame."

"I am glad indeed to hear, it, for the sake of the Restoration."

At this moment, M. Maurice Duval re-entered and asked for the duchess's papers. Madame told him to look for them in the hiding-place; they were in a white portfolio which had been left there. The préfet fetched it and brought it to the duchess.

"Monsieur le préfet," she added with dignity, "the matters enclosed in this portfolio are of little importance; but I desire to give them to you myself, so that I can tell you their intended destination." Whereupon she opened it.

"See," she said, "this is my correspondence.... This," she added, drawing out a little painted figure, is aSaint-Clément,to which I am particularly devoted, and now so more than ever."

"Does Madame know how much money she has?"

"There ought to be in the hiding-place about 30,000 francs, monsieur, of which 12,000 belong to persons of my suite."

As the préfet wanted to verify the sum, one of the two gendarmes brought him a bag, in which were nearly13,000 francs in gold, one-half in Spanish money, which, in the confusion, he had taken the precaution of putting on one side.

"How did the bag get into your hands?" the préfet asked the gendarme.

"Madame gave it to me, saying it was for me."

"What! Madame gave it you and said it was for you?"

"Yes."

"How did she come to make you such a present?"

"She asked which of the two gendarmes had slept on the camp-bed from midnight to four in the morning. I said it was I: then she turned to my companion and asked if it was so? and he replied that it was. Then she held out the bag to me and told me to take it."

"It was a joke," said the préfet.

"I think so too," said the poor gendarme, casting a last glance on the heap of gold; "so you see I brought it to you."

The préfet put the 13,000 francs to the other 17,000 and took it all away to the préfecture.

When, a year later, I wroteLa Vendée et Madame,and the Duchesse de Berry heard that the 13,000 francs had been taken from her protégé, she wrote to the general to inform him that, by the same post, she was writing to the Government to call upon it to render up the 13,000 francs to its rightful owner. The gendarme was then at Limoges. They sent him the 13,000 francs, but they expelled him from the army.

Hardly was the visit about the money and the papers over before the Comte d'Erlon arrived, and he exercised towards Madame all that courteousness of a man of the world which the préfet had thought it unnecessary to employ. The duchess leant towards the general—

"You have promised not to leave me," she said to him in a whisper.

"I will keep my word to Your Highness," replied the general.

The duchess then rose quickly and went up to the Comte d'Erlon, saying—

"Monsieur le Comte, I have given myself up to General Dermoncourt; I pray you to allow him to remain with me. I have also asked him not to let me be separated from my unfortunate companions, and he also promised me that; will you respect his promises?"

"The general has promised nothing that I am not ready to grant, Madame; and you will ask nothing of me which it is in my power to grant that I will not concede with all possible haste."

The duchess was reassured by these words and, seeing that Comte d'Erlon was talking apart with the general in low tones, she drew aside from them and discreetly talked to M. de Ménars and to Mlle, de Kersabiec. Comte d'Erlon then observed to the general that M. de Ménars and Mlle, de Kersabiec might stay with the Duchesse de Berry; but that he was under the conviction that M. Guibourg would be claimed by the judicial authorities to be replaced in the position he occupied before his escape, as a criminal trial was started against him. He thought the duchess ought to be taken to the château as soon as possible; he had even given all the necessary orders for that removal before he came to the duchess. Dermoncourt then returned to Madame and asked her if she felt better.

"Better? Why do you ask me that?"

"Because, if Madame can walk or is not afraid of driving, it is urgent we should leave the house at once."

"Leave the house? Where are we to go?" she asked, looking sharply at the general: "Where are you going to take me?"

"To the château, Madame."

"Oh yes! and from there to Blaye, no doubt!"

Mlle. de Kersabiec went up to the general, and said—

"General, Her Royal Highness cannot go on foot, it is not suitable."

"Mademoiselle," replied Dermoncourt, "allow me to differ from you. If there are any insults to encounter, which I doubt, a carriage will not protect Madame from such insult; but I will answer for it that my arm will at least be a safe shield against anything of the sort."

Then, turning to the duchess—

"Believe me, Madame, let us walk. As the distance is short, you need only put a hat on your head and fling a cloak round your shoulders and all will be right."

Then Rusconi rushed downstairs and brought up three hats, which probably belonged to the ladies Duguigny. Amongst them was a black one. Dermoncourt suggested that the duchess should wear that.

"Yes," she said, "it would be more fitting under the circumstances."

She then took the general's arm and, addressing her companions, she said—

"Come, friends, let us go!"

As she passed through the attic, she threw a last look at it and at the door in the chimney-place which was still open.

"Oh! general," she said, laughingly, "if you had not made war against me after the fashion used against St. Laurence—which, by the way, is unworthy of military generosity—you would not have me upon your arm now."

When they left the house, M. Guibourg headed the procession with a legal magistrate and another public functionary; then came Mlle. de Kersabiec with the préfet and Comte d'Erlon; General Dermoncourt followed them immediately with the duchess and M. de Ménars, and behind them came several staff officers. When they reached the street the préfet suggested that the colonel of the National Guard should offer his arm to the duchess. She consented quite graciously. The troops of the line and National Guards formed a hedge from the house of the Demoiselles Duguigny as far as the château, and,behind them, as much as space permitted, in lines ten times thicker than that of the soldiers, the population crowded round. Among the men watching the duchess pass by were some with eyes blazing with hatred from old memories; so muffled murmurs rolled along the route and soon even shouts rent the air, but General Dermoncourt stopped and, flashing his dark eyes around, growled rather than spoke the words—

"Come now, where is the respect due to prisoners, specially when they are women?"

They were silent. All the same it was a good thing there was only sixty yards between the house of the ladies Duguigny and the château, and, indeed, that distance would have been too long without the respectful attentions with which the generals had surrounded the duchess. Their deference commanded the silence of the multitude that had been buffeted about by the civil war which for six months had been muttering round the vicinity of Nantes, ruining its trade and mowing down its inhabitants. Finally, the château was reached, the drawbridge crossed and the gate shut upon the procession. Madame had shown no sign of fear during the journey beyond pressing the general's arm more tightly. After crossing the court of the château, they went up the stairs, but the duchess was so weak from all the emotion she had just gone through that Dermoncourt felt her bend over and press his arm with all her weight. At last she reached the room intended for her, which the colonel of artillery, the governor of the castle, hastened to offer her. There, feeling better, she told the general she could eat something. As a matter of fact, having been disturbed just as she was going to sit down to the table, she had not eaten anything for nearly thirty hours. As no orders had been given for breakfast, and it would have kept her too long till it was prepared, the colonel suggested to Madame a glass of frontignan and some biscuits, which she accepted. But Madame ate very little then on account of a tertian feverwhich had attacked her regularly during the last two or three weeks. Breakfast was not ready for three-quarters of an hour; when it was announced, General Dermoncourt offered his arm to the duchess to take her to the dining-room. As she sat at the table, she turned smilingly to her cavalier.

"General," she said, "if I were not afraid it would be said that I was trying to beguile you I would suggest you should share my repast."

"And I, Madame," replied the general, "if I dared, would willingly accept, for I have not had anything since eleven yesterday morning."

"Oh, oh! general," said the duchess laughing, "then we are quits."

The préfet came in whilst they were at table. He, too, was as hungry as Madame and Dermoncourt, but the duchess took good care not to invite M. Maurice Duval to sit down with her. The préfet soon went away straight to a sideboard where they had just brought the partridges cleared away from the duchess's table, called for a knife and fork and began to eat, turning his back on the princess. Madame looked at him, then turned her eyes to the general—

"General," she said, "do you know what I regret most in my present situation?"

"No, Madame."

"Two sheriffs to call that gentleman to account."

When breakfast was finished, the duchess returned to the salon. There, General Dermoncourt asked her permission to leave her. General d'Erlon was holding a review of the National Guard and of the troops of the line in which he was obliged to take part.

"When shall I see you again?" asked the princess.

"As soon as the review is over, Madame," replied the general, "and I presume it will not be long."

Scarcely had Dermoncourt got thirty yards outside the bâteau, before a trumpeter of the gendarmerie caughthim up, out of breath, saying that the duchess was asking for him instantly. He added that she seemed furious with the general. Interrogated as to the cause of this anger, the soldier replied that after some words addressed by Madame to Mlle. de Kersabiec, he attributed it to M. de Ménars having been sent to another building instead of being placed in her anteroom. Fearing, indeed, that they had not treated M. de Ménars with the respect he had ordered, the general returned at once and went to him, finding him so unwell that he had flung himself on his bed without the strength to undress himself. The general offered to be his valet, but as there were neither tables nor chairs in his room and he could not stand it was not an easy office to perform; the general therefore called a gendarme to his assistance and, between them, they managed to put M. de Ménars to bed. When he was in bed, the general told him that the duchess had had him called back and that he would, no doubt, have a scene with Madame over his separation from her. M. de Ménars then charged Dermoncourt to reassure Madame about his condition and to tell her that he only felt a passing faintness and that he was well satisfied with his quarters. The general immediately repaired to the duchess, who, when she saw him, leapt rather than walked to him.

"Ah! monsieur," she exclaimed, in a voice trembling with anger, "so this is how you have begun—this is how you keep your promises—it augurs well for the future. It is indeed horrible!"

"What is the matter, Madame?" asked the general.

"You promised me I should not be separated from any of my companions, and at the very outset you put Ménars in another part of the building from mine."

"Madame is mistaken," replied Dermoncourt. "M. de Ménars, it is true, is in another part of the castle, but the tower Madame occupies leads to his rooms."

"Yes, only one has to go downstairs and up again by another staircase."

"Madame is again mistaken," replied the general. "You can get to M. de Ménars by going down to the first floor and along by the apartments."

"If that is so, let us go, monsieur, and see poor Ménars at once," said the duchess.

Whereupon, she took the general's arm and drew him towards the door.

"Has Madame forgotten that she is a prisoner?" he asked her.

"Ah! true," murmured the duchess; "I thought I was still in a castle, and I am in a prison. At least, general, I hope it will not be forbidden me to send and inquire how he is?"

"I wished to bring you news myself," said the general, "I have come from him."

"Well, how is he?"

The general then told the duchess the care he had taken of M. de Ménars. Such marks of attention, she well understood, had been paid more to her than to M. de Ménars, and they touched her keenly.

"General," she said, in tones which showed that her anger had evaporated, "I thank you for all your kindness to Ménars; but he indeed thoroughly deserves it, for he is not an adherent of my train."

It was too late to go to the review, so the general remained with Madame, who expressed a desire to write to her brother, the King of Naples and to her sister, the Queen of Spain.

"I have only to acquaint them with my ill luck," she said. "I am afraid they will be uneasy concerning my health and false rumours may reach them because of the distance that separates us from one another. By the way," she added, "what do you think of the political conduct of my sister, the Queen of Spain?"

"Why, Madame," Dermoncourt replied, "I think she is following the right course."

"So much the better, general," she went on, sighing,"provided she attains to good in the end! Louis XVI. began as she began."

The duchess then noticed that Dermoncourt had a black scarf in which at times he put his arm.

"How is your arm going on, general?" she asked.

"Very well; but how did Madame know about it!"

"Ah! I heard at Nantes; they told me it was one of my horses which threw you. I said, 'Oh! it was a good act on the horse's part,' for I confess I was not sorry for the accident: you have done us much harm! I hope, however, it was not very serious."

"You see, Madame," replied Dermoncourt, "your wish was granted in advance. I am almost cured."

"Tell me, General," asked the duchess, "shall I be allowed to see the newspapers?"

"I do not see any objections. Will Madame tell me those she would like?"

"Well,l'Echofirst, thenLa Quotidienne,and lastly,Le Constitutionnel."

"Le Constitutionnelfor you, Madame?"

"Why not?"

"Will you be prepared to abjure your politics as Henri IV. did his religion and to say: 'Paris indeed deserves acharter?'"

"Do you think that reading the venerableConstitutionnelcan convert me?"

"Certainly! It is a paper packed with arguments and eloquent with conviction!..."

"Never mind, I will venture: I should also likeLe Courrier français."

"Le Courrier!but Madame forgets it has become ultra-Liberal."

"Listen, general: I like everything that is broad and loyal; I also wantl'Ami de la Charte."

"Come now, that is Jacobin!"

"I want it from another motive, general," she said to Dermoncourt, in a melancholy tone; "it always callsme Caroline, curtly, and that was what I was called as a young girl; now I regret my girlhood's name, for that of my wifehood has not brought me happiness."

There was a moment's silence, then the duchess asked Dermoncourt if he knew her before the events of July.

"No, Madame," he replied.

"But did you, then, never come to Paris?"

"Pardon, Madame," replied Dermoncourt; "I was there twice during the Restoration."

"What! general, you came twice to Paris and never saw me?"

"For a good reason," Dernoncourt replied.

"Tell me what it was."

"When I saw Madame coming from one direction I took myself off in another as quickly as possible."

"It was not very gallant of you, monsieur; why did you act like that?"

"Why, Madame? I beg you to forgive my frankness, which is, I admit, somewhatblunt; but it was because I did not like the Restoration. It can be imagined after this, Madame, that if I have been fortunate enough to do something to give you pleasure, at all events, I have done so without any ulterior motive, and all the more as Your Highness is not in a position to be able to offer me any reward."

The duchess smiled; then, turning towards Mademoiselle de Kersabiec, she said—

"Isn't he a good fellow, Stylite?"

"Yes, Madame; it is a pity he is not on our side." Whereupon, Dermoncourt hastened to reply—

"All that Madame has the right to demand in the way of respect, attention, consideration and care in the overpowering position in which she finds herself placed, she will obtain from me; all the services she can ask and I can grant her, I will; but nothing in the world is capable of making me forget my duty."

Then, turning to Mlle. de Kersabiec—

"You have heard what I say, Mlle. Stylite," said he, "I hope that, whilst I have the honour of being with Madame, you will be so good as never to return to this subject."

"You hear him, Stylite," said Madame—"let us talk of something else."

Then, in a different intonation of voice, she said—

"Have you seen my son, general?"

"I have never had that honour."

"Ah! He is a good lad, very quick, very heedless, but French through and through, like myself."

"You love him greatly?"

"As much as a mother can love her son."

"Well, will Madame permit me to say that I do not understand how, since all is at an end in la Vendée—as, after the battles of Chêne and of la Pénissière, all hope was lost—she did not think of returning to the side of the son she loves so much: we have beaten her, however." "General, it was you who seized my correspondence, I think?"

"Yes, Madame."

"Have you read my letters?"

"I have committed that indiscretion."

"Well, then, you must have seen that, directly I put myself at the head of my brave Vendéens, I resolved to submit to all the consequences of insurrection.... Why! it was for me they rose up and risked their heads, and should I have deserted them?... No, general, their fate shall be mine and I have kept my promise to them. But I should have been your prisoner a long time before; I should have put an end to it all by giving myself up, if one fear had not pursued me."

"Which was?"

"I was well aware that, directly after I was made a prisoner, I should be claimed by Spain, Prussia and Russia. The French Government, on its side, would wish to try me, naturally enough; but, as the Holy Alliance would not permit me to appear before a Courtof Assizes—for the dignity of all the crowned heads of Europe is concerned in it—there is but one step from this conflict of interests to a coolness, and from a coolness to war; and, as I have already told you, I do not wish to be the excuse for an invasive war.All for France and by Francewas the motto I adopted and from which I do not wish to depart. Besides, who could satisfy me that, were France invaded, it would not be divided? I desire it to remain whole!"

Dermoncourt smiled.

"Why do you laugh?" she said to him.

He bowed without replying.

"Come, I want to know why you are laughing?"

"I am laughing at Your Highness's fears of a foreign war...."

"And at my small fear of a civil war, also?"

"I beg Madame to remark that she completes my thought and not my sentence."

"Oh! that cannot wound me, general; for, since I came into France, I have been mistaken about the disposition of people's minds; I thought that France would rise; that the army would pass over to my side;the more so in that I was invited to return to France more by my enemies than by my friends.Then, too, I dreamed of a sort of return from the Isle of Elba. After the battles of Maisdon, of la Caraterie, of Chêne, of la Pénissière and of Riaillé, I gave positive orders to all my Vendéens to return home; for I am French before all other considerations, general, and, to prove this, at this present moment, when I find myself once again among these excellent French faces, I cannot believe myself to be in prison. All my fear is lest I am sent elsewhere; they are certain not to leave me here; I am too near the seat of insurrection. They have, indeed, talked of transferring me to Saumur; but that is still a riotous town. As a matter of fact, general, they are in a more embarrassing position than I am myself!"

As she spoke the last words, she rose and walked about with her hands behind her back like a man. After a second, she stopped short and went on—

"If I am in prison, I hope, at least, that I am not in solitary confinement and that M. Guibourg may dine with me?"

"I do not see any objection, Madame, the more so as I think it is the last time he will have that honour."

Whether she did not hear these words, or paid no heed to them, the duchess did not reply to Dermoncourt; and, as it was night, and the dinner-hour was approaching, he asked the princess's leave to withdraw, and obtained his orders for the next day at the same time. At ten o'clock next day, the artillery colonel in command of the château came to Dermoncourt's rooms; he came to announce a fresh burst of anger from the duchess. She had almost as much cause for it as on the previous day. M. Guibourg—as the Comte d'Erlon had warned the duchess—had been put back into prison during the night; so, when the duchess asked why he did not come to breakfast, they told her the news, for which a sentence dropped by Dermoncourt the previous day would have prepared her if she had listened to it. The duchess had cried out against the treachery and had called the general aJesuit.That insult was so odd from Madame's lips that Dermoncourt was still laughing at it when he came to her. She received him with the same petulance as on the previous day and almost with the same words.

"Ah! So this is how things are going, monsieur? I should never have believed it; you have deceived me shamefully!"

The general feigned astonishment as before, and asked her what was the matter.

"Guibourg has been carried off in the night and taken to prison in spite of the promise you made me that I should not be separated from mycompanions in misfortune."

"I should desire to fulfil all Madame's wishes, but itdoes not depend upon either me or Comte d'Erlon to prevent the law from claiming M. Guibourg. He had been summoned before his arrest: the Court of Assizes at Loir-et-Cher was served with the writ, and M. Guibourg was to be transferred to Blois to be tried there. No legal power could get him off. As regards Mlle. de Kersabiec and M. de Ménars, who are not under prosecution, they remain with Your Royal Highness; thus you see, Madame, that Comte d'Erlon and I have not failed to keep the promise we gave you."

"But, at any rate, why was I not warned?"

"Here again, Madame, I have nothing to reproach myself with, since, when allowing M. Guibourg to dine with you yesterday, I added the words—'All the more as it will probably be the last meal he will have the honour of taking with Madame.'"

"I never heard that."

"The general said it though, Madame," gently interrupted Mlle. de Kersabiec.

"But why not, explain more clearly?"

"Because," replied Dermoncourt, "Madame had gone through so many shocks during the day that I wished to let her have a good night at all events, and I knew she would not sleep if she had been informed that, during her sleep, they would transfer M. Guibourg to prison."

"Why did you not say something, Stylite, since you heard the general's words?"

"Because of the same reason as the general's, Madame." The duchess quietened down and seemed even to be pleased with the tactfulness Dermoncourt had exercised under the circumstances. Upon the observation he next made to her, that he had noticed she was still wearing the same dress as on the day before in which were the holes caused by the burns, and the same stockings, she replied—

"The few things I have are at the house of the Demoiselles Duguigny; besides, my dear general, during thelife I have led for six months past I have scarcely troubled myself about my wardrobe, that is why I have nothing. Will you be so good as to go to the ladies and bring me back what is there?"

"I am at Madame's commands."

The duchess wrote a note and handed it to the general. One of the deputy-king's solicitors, who happened to be present, who had sealed up the room which the princess had occupied, as well as the room containing the hiding-place, was told by the general to go to the premises and bring back the articles mentioned in the note.

"We consequently betook ourselves," says Dermoncourt, "to the maison Duguigny, where we found very few things, as the duchess had told us. Among the articles mentioned in the note, there should have been a box full of bonbons; we found the box but it was empty. On returning from my errand to the duchess, I gave an account of it and pointed out that I had indeed found the box, but that the bonbons had disappeared."

"Oh!" said Madame, "the bonbons? That is not surprising, they were eaten."

"What sort does Madame prefer? I will have the privilege of obtaining them for her."

"If the bonbons have been eaten, I will accept the offer. I prefer sticks of chocolate with sweetmeats on top."

"Then Madame will allow me?"

"Certainly."

The general called his secretary, Rusconi, and transmitted the duchess's wishes to him. Half an hour later, Madame had a basketful of bonbons. Dinner was announced at half-past six, and Dermoncourt took leave of the duchess.

"Good-bye till to-morrow, general," she said with quite childish gaiety, "and be sure do not forget to bring more bonbons."

The general went away. At nine o'clock Comte d'Erlontook the trouble to go to Dermoncourt's house himself to tell him that it was believed for certain that M. de Bourmont was at la Chaslière.

"If that be so, general," replied Dermoncourt, "I will take fifty horse with me and, to-morrow morning, M. de Bourmont shall be here."

He set off at eleven o'clock. At midnight they waked the duchess, Mlle. Stylite de Kersabiec and M. de Ménars; they got into a carriage, which drove them to the fosse, where a steamer waited for them, containing MM. Polo, deputy-mayor of Nantes; Robineau de Bourgon, colonel of the National Guard; Rocher, artillery standard-bearer of the same corps; Chousserie, colonel of the gendarmerie; Ferdinand Petit-Pierre, adjutant of the fort of Nantes; and Joly, commissioner of the Paris police, who was to conduct the duchess to Blaye. Madame was accompanied on her way to the steamer by Comte d'Erlon, M. Ferdinand Favre, mayor of Nantes and by M. Maurice Duval, préfet. On stepping from the carriage, she looked round for Dermoncourt and, not seeing him, she asked where he was. They told her he was away on military business.

"Humph! See," she said, "one more pretty trick!"

The general in command of the division, the préfet and the mayor of Nantes were to accompany the duchess as far as Saint-Nazaire, and only to leave her after she had embarked on the brigLa Capricieuse.As she stepped on board, Madame inquired if M. Guibourg was to follow her; the préfet replied that it was impossible. Then she asked him for pen and ink and wrote the following note:—

"I have entreated for my old prisoner and they are going to write about it. God helping us, we shall see each other again. Greetings to all our friends. God keep them! Have courage, and put your trust in Him.Saint-Anneis the patron saint of weBretons."

This note was entrusted to M. Ferdinand Favre, who religiously sent it to its destination. The boat startedat four o'clock and glided silently past the sleeping town; by eight they were on boardLa Capricieuse.

Madame remained at anchor in the roadstead for two days, the wind being contrary. At last, at seven a.m. on the 11th,La Capricieuseunfurled her sails and, towed by the steamer, which did not leave her until she was three leagues out at sea, she majestically vanished into the distance: four hours later, she had disappeared behind the headland of Pornic.

As for Dermoncourt, he returned to Nantes on the 9th at eight a.m., not having found any one at the château de la Chaslière, as may very well be supposed.

Meantime, M. de Bourmont was quietly in the country near Condé (Maine-et-Loire), where he had gone the very day of the duchess's departure for Blaye. He had left Nantes at six p.m., never suspecting that the superior police authorities would have the incivility of preventing him from visiting his estates and putting his affairs in order. From there, he returned to Lyons by Angers, where he was very warmly welcomed into a Legitimist household, which offered him so safe a retreat that he decided to prolong his stay there. The ladies of the house were very devoted and very inquisitive, having been told he was one of the leaders of the Legitimist party, but they did not know he was M. de Bourmont. They were very much puzzled to find out who this reserved and cautious personage might be, and exhausted themselves in conjectures. Finally, whether M. de Bourmont's dress gave them the notion or whether their imagination ran away with them, they ended by persuading themselves that he was an ecclesiastic; and, unknown to him, to do him a pretty kindness, they put up in one of the rooms of the house an altar adorned as best they could, and procured the necessary vessels and ornaments. Next morning they came and told him with a satisfaction which they expected he would share, that all was prepared for him to say mass in the house.

M. de Bourmont listened with great seriousness to this proposition, which he made up for afterwards; but, not wishing to destroy an error in the ladies' minds so favourable to the incognito he wished to keep, he excused himself to them by saying he was in the habit, when travelling, of taking a tablet of chocolate in the morning, and had already taken his daily portion; he could not, therefore, present himself before the altar. The good ladies were convinced, and their veneration was increased for a man who displayed such scrupulousness. However, M. de Bourmont reflected that the altar was prepared, that they would think it very strange if he did not use it, and that he would be exposed to fresh importunities; so he sent for the master of the house and announced he was going away immediately. His host was astounded at this quick resolution; but M. de Bourmont put his mind at rest by saying—

"Your ladies wished to make me say mass this morning; if I remain, they will, perhaps, make me sing vespers in the afternoon. That is why I am going."

He at once took the coach, not for the purpose of going abroad, but to stay a few days in Paris. Finally, he left for Geneva and, whilst he was safely travelling from Lyons to Paris and from Paris to Geneva, the superior police sought for him in la Vendée: whether from stupidity or intention, they looked everywhere but where he was. In the pamphlet Deutz published, he boasts that it was on the advice which he gave to M. Maurice Duval that M. de Bourmont was not disturbed. He had sold Madame but preserved M. de Bourmont!... But Deutz was terribly punished: Hugo inflicted the following verses on him:A l'homme qui a livré une femme!

"A L'HOMME QUI A LIVRÉ UNE FEMMEO honte! ce n'est pas seulement cette femme,Sacrée alors pour tous, faible cœur, mais grande âme,Mais c'est lui, c'est son nom dans l'avenir maudit,Ce sont les cheveux blancs de son père interdit;C'est la pudeur publique en face regardée,Tandis qu'il s'accouplait à son infâme idée;C'est l'honneur, c'est la foi, la pitié, le serment,Voilà ce que ce juif a vendu lâchement!Juif! les impurs traitants à qui l'on vend son âmeAttendront bien longtemps avant qu'un plus infâmeVienne réclamer d'eux, dans quelque jour d'effroi,Le fond du sac plein d'or qu'on fit vomir sur toi!Ce n'est pas même un juif! c'est un païen immonde,Un renégat, l'opprobre et le rebut du monde,Un fétide apostat, un oblique étranger,Qui nous donne du moins le bonheur de songerQu'après tant de revers et de guerres civiles,Il n'est pas un bandit écumé dans nos villes,Pas un forçat hideux, blanchi dans les prisons,Qui veuille mordre en France au pain des trahisons.Rien ne te disait donc dans l'âme, ô misérable!Que la proscription est toujours vénérable;Qu'on ne bat pas le sein qui nous donna son lait;Qu'une fille des rois dont on fut le valetNe se met point en vente au fond d'un autre infâme,Et que, n'étant plus reine, elle était encor femme?Rentre dans l'ombre où sont tous les monstres flétrisQui, depuis quarante ans, bavent sur nos débris!Rentre dans ce cloaque! et que jamais ta tête,Dans un jour de malheur ou dans un jour de fête,Ne songe à reparaître au soleil des vivants!Qu'ainsi qu'une fumée abandonnée aux vents,Infecte et dont chacun se détourne au passage,Ta vie erre au hasard de rivage en rivage.Eh! tais-toi, que veux-tu balbutier encor?Dis, n'as-tu pas vendu l'honneur, le vrai trésor?Garde tous les soufflets entassés sur ta joue ...Que fait l'excuse au crime et le fard sur la boue?Sans qu'un ami t'abrite à l'ombre de son toit,Marche, autre juif errant, marche avec l'or qu'on voitLuire à travers les doigts de tes mains mal fermées!Tous les biens de ce monde en grappes parfuméesPendent sur ton chemin, car le riche ici-basA tout, hormis l'honneur, qui ne s'achète pas!Hâte-toi de jouir, maudit! et sans relâcheMarche! et qu'en te voyant on dise: 'C'est ce lâche!...'Marche! et que le remords soit ton seul compagnon!...Marche sans rien pouvoir arracher de ton nom!Car le mépris public, ombre de la bassesse.Croit d'année en année et repousse sans cesse;Et va s'épaississant sur les traîtres perversComme la feuille au front des sapins toujours verts!Et quand la tombe, un jour,—cette embûche profonde,Qui s'ouvre tout à coup sur les choses du monde,—Te fera, d'épouvante et d'horreur agité,Passer de cette vie à la réalité,La réalité sombre, éternelle, immobile!Quand, d'instant en instant plus seul et plus débile,Tu te cramponneras en vain à ton trésor;Quand la mort, t'accostant, couché sur des tas d'or.Videra, brusquement ta main crispée et pleine,Comme une main d'enfant qu'un homme ouvre sans peine;Alors, dans cet abîme où tout traître descend,L'un roulé dans la fange, et l'autre teint de sang.Tu tomberas, perdu sur la fatale grèveQue Dante Alighieri vit avec l'œil du rêve!Tu tomberas damné, désespéré, banni!Afin que ton forfait ne soil pas impuni,Et que ton âme, errante au milieu de ces âmes,Y soit la plus abjecte entre les plus infâmes!Et, lorsqu'ils te verront paraître au milieu d'eux.Ces fourbes dont l'histoire inscrit les noms hideux,Que l'or tenta jadis, mais à qui, d'âge en âge.Chaque peuple, en passant, vient cracher au visage,Tous ceux, les plus obscurs comme les plus fameux.Qui portent sur leur lèvre un baiser venimeux;Judas, qui vend son Dieu; Leclerc, qui vend sa ville.Groupe au louche regard, engeance ingrate et vile,Tous, en foule, accourront joyeux sur ton chemin.Et Louvel, indigné, repoussera ta main!"

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