The predictions too hastily made by the English journals, that the influence of Bonaparte in France could not survive the rupture of that peace which had excited so much enthusiasm, were met by a burst of national unanimity that soon dispelled the delusive hope. Never was there a greater error than to suppose that any prospect of commercial prosperity, any vista of wealth and riches, could compensate to Frenchmen for the intoxication of that glory in which they lived as in an orgy. Too many banners floated from the deep aisles of the Invalides—too many cannon, the spoils of the Italian and German wars, bristled on the rampart—not to recall the memory of those fête days when a bulletin threw the entire city into a frenzy of joy. The Louvre and the Luxembourg, too, were filled with the treasures of conquered States; and these are not the guarantees of a long peace.
Such! in brief, was the state of Paris when the declaration of war by Great Britain once more called the nation to arms. Every regiment was at once ordered to make up its full complement to the war standard, and the furnaces were employed in forging shot and casting cannon throughout the length and breadth of France. The cavalry corps were stationed about St. Omer and Compiègne, where a rich corn country supplied forage in abundance. Among the rest, the order came for the huitième to march: one squadron only was to remain behind, chosen to execute le service des dépêches from St. Cloud and Versailles to Paris; and to this I belonged.
From the evening of Monsieur Gisquet's visit I had never seen or heard of De Beauvais; and at last the hope grew in me that we were to meet no more, when suddenly the thought flashed across my mind: this is what he spoke of,—he promised I should be sent to Versailles! Can it be chance? or is this his doing? These were difficult questions to solve, and gave me far more embarrassment than pleasure. My fear that my acquaintance with him was in the end to involve me in some calamity, was a kind of superstition which I could not combat; and I resolved at once to see my colonel,—with whom, happily, I was now on the best of terms,—and endeavor to exchange with some other officer, any being willing to accept a post so much more agreeable than a mere country quarter, I found the old man busied in the preparations for departure; he was marking out the days of march to the adjutant as I entered.
“Well, Burke,” said he, “you are the fortunate fellow this time; your troop remains behind.”
“It is on that account, sir, I am come. You'll think my request a strange one, but if it be not against rule, would you permit me to exchange my destination with another officer?”
“What,—eh? the boy 's mad! Why, it 's to Versailles you are going.”
“I know, sir; but somehow I'd rather remain with the regiment.”
“This is very strange,—I don't understand it,” said he, leisurely; “come here.” With that he drew me into the recess of a window where we could talk unheard by others. “Burke,” continued he, “I'm not the man to question my young fellows about secrets which they 'd rather keep for themselves; but there is something here more than common. Do you know that in the order it was your squadron was specially marked out—all the officers' names were mentioned, and yours particularly—for Versailles?”
A deadly paleness and a cold chill spread over my face. I tried to say some commonplace, but I could not utter more than the words, “I feared it.” Happily for me he did not hear them, but taking my hand kindly, said,—
“I see it all: some youthful folly or other would make you better pleased to leave Paris just now. Never mind,—stormy times are coming; you 'll have enough on your hands presently. And let me advise you to make the most of your time at Versailles; for if I 'm not mistaken, you 'll see much more of camps than courts for some time to come.”