of Septembre.I go to the Chateau de St.Gre--great iron gates, long avenue of poplar,--big house all 'round a court, and Monsieur le Marquis is at Versailles.I borrow three louis from the concierge, and I go to Versailles to the hotel of Monsieur le Marquis.There is all dat trouble what you read about going on, and Monsieur le Marquis he not so glad to see me for dat risson.`Mon cher Auguste,' he cry, `you want to be of officier in gardes de corps? You are not afred?' '' (Auguste stiffened.) `` `Iam a St.Gre, Monsieur le Marquis.I am afred of nothings,' I answered.He tek me to the King, I am made lieutenant, the mob come and the King and Queen are carry off to Paris.The King is prisoner, Monsieur le Marquis goes back to the Chateau de St.Gre.France is a republic.Monsieur--que voulez-vous?'' (The Sieur de St.Gre shrugged his shoulders.) ``I, too, become Republican.I become officier in the National Guard,--one must move with the time.Is it not so, Monsieur? Ideman' of you if you ever expec' to see a St.Gre a Republican.''
I expressed my astonishment.
``I give up my right, my principle, my family.I come to America--I go to New Orleans where I have influence and I stir up revolution for France, for Liberty.Is it not noble cause?''
I had it on the tip of my tongue to ask Monsieur Auguste why he left France, but the uselessness of it was apparent.
``You see, Monsieur, I am justify before you, before my frien's,--that is all I care,'' and he gave another shrug in defiance of the world at large.``What I have done, Ihave done for principle.If I remain Royalist, I might have marry my cousin, Mademoiselle de St.Gre.Ha, Monsieur, you remember--the miniature you were so kin' as to borrow me four hundred livres?''
``I remember,'' I said.
``It is because I have much confidence in you, Monsieur,'' he said, ``it is because I go--peut-etre--to dangere, to death, that I come here and ask you to do me a favor.''
``You honor me too much, Monsieur,'' I answered, though I could scarce refrain from smiling.
``It is because of your charactair,'' Monsieur Auguste was good enough to say.``You are to be repose' in, you are to be rely on.Sometime I think you ver' ole man.
And this is why, and sence you laik objects of art, that Ibring this and ask you keep it while I am in dangere.''
I was mystified.He thrust his hand into his coat and drew forth an oval object wrapped in dirty paper, and then disclosed to my astonished eyes the miniature of Mademoiselle de St.Gre,--the miniature, I say, for the gold back and setting were lacking.Auguste had retained only the ivory,--whether from sentiment or necessity Iwill not venture.The sight of it gave me a strange sensation, and I can scarcely write of the anger and disgust which surged over me, of the longing to snatch it from his trembling fingers.Suddenly I forgot Auguste in the lady herself.There was something emblematical in the misfortune which had bereft the picture of its setting.
Even so the Revolution had taken from her a brilliant life, a king and queen, home and friends.Yet the spirit remained unquenchable, set above its mean surroundings,--ay, and untouched by them.I was filled with a painful curiosity to know what had become of her, which I repressed.Auguste's voice aroused me.
``Ah, Monsieur, is it not a face to love, to adore?''
``It is a face to obey,'' I answered, with some heat, and with more truth than I knew.
``Mon Dieu, Monsieur, it is so.It is that mek me love--you know not how.You know not what love is, Monsieur Reetchie, you never love laik me.You have not sem risson.Monsieur,'' he continued, leaning forward and putting his hand on my knee, ``I think she love me--Iam not sure.I should not be surprise'.But Monsieur le Marquis, her father, he trit me ver' bad.Monsieur le Marquis is guillotine' now, I mus' not spik evil of him, but he marry her to one ol' garcon, Le Vicomte d'Ivry-le-Tour.''
``So Mademoiselle is married,'' I said after a pause.
``Oui, she is Madame la Vicomtesse now; I fall at her feet jus' the sem.I hear of her once at Bel Oeil, the chateau of Monsieur le Prince de Ligne in Flander'.
After that they go I know not where.They are exile',--los' to me.'' He sighed, and held out the miniature to me.
``Monsieur, I esk you favor.Will you be as kin' and keep it for me again?''
I have wondered many times since why I did not refuse.
Suffice it to say that I took it.And Auguste's face lighted up.
``I am a thousan' times gret'ful,'' he cried; and added, as though with an afterthought, ``Monsieur, would you be so kin' as to borrow me fif' dollars?''