The rest of that day left me but little time for reflection; but in such short intervals as I could snatch from duty, one thought ever rose to my mind: Can this be De Beauvais's doing? has he had any share, in my present destination,—and with what object? “Well,” said I to myself at last, “these are but foolish fears after all, and may be causeless ones. If I but follow the straight path of my duty, what need I care if the whole world intrigued and plotted around me? And after all, was it not most likely that we should never see each other again?”
The day was just breaking when we left Paris; the bright beams of a May morning's sun were flickering and playing in the rippling river that ran cold and gray beneath. The tall towers of the Tuileries threw their long shadows across the Place Carrousel, where a dragoon regiment was encamped. They were already astir, and some of the men were standing around the fountains with their horses, and others were looking after the saddles and accoutrements in preparation for the march; a half-expiring fire here and there marked where some little party had been sitting together, while the jars and flasks about bespoke a merry evening. A trumpeter sat, statue-like, on his white horse his trumpet resting on his knee,—surveying the whole scene, and as if deferring to the last the wakeful summons that should rouse some of his yet sleeping comrades: I could see thus much as we passed. Our road led along the quay towards the Place Louis the Fifteenth, where an infantry battalion with four guns was picketed. The men were breakfasting and preparing for the route. They were part of the grande armée under orders for Boulogne.
We soon traversed the Champs Élysées, and entered the open country. For some miles it was merely a succession of large cornfields, and here and there a small vineyard, that met the eye on either side: but as we proceeded farther, we were girt in by rich orchards in full blossom, the whole air loaded with perfume; neat cottages peeped from the woody enclosures, the trellised walls covered with honeysuckles and wild roses; the surface, too, was undulating, and waved in every imaginable direction, offering every variety of hill and valley, precipice and plain, in even the smallest space. As yet no peasant was stirring, no smoke curled from a single chimney, and all, save the song of the lark, was silent. It was a peaceful scene, and a strong contrast to that we left behind us, and whatever ambitious yearnings filled my heart as I looked upon the armed ranks of the mailed cuirassiers, I felt a deeper sense of happiness as I strayed along those green alleys through which the sun came slanting sparingly, and where the leaves only stirred as their winged tenants moved among them.
We travelled for some hours through the dark paths of the Bois de Boulogne, and again emerged in a country wild and verdant as before. And thus passed our day; till the setting sun rested on the tall roof of the great Palace, and lit up every window in golden splendor as we entered the town of Versailles.
I could scarce avoid halting as I rode up the wide terrace of the Palace. Never had I felt before the overcoming sense of grandeur which architecture can bestow. The great façade in its chaste and simple beauty, stretched away to a distance, where dark lime-trees closed the background, their tall summits only peeping above the lofty terrace in which the château stands. On that terrace, too, were walking a crowd of persons of the Court, the full-dress costume showing that they had but left the salons to enjoy the cool and refreshing air of the evening. I saw some turn and look after our travel-stained and dusty party, and confess I felt a half sense of shame at our wayworn appearance.
I had not long to suffer such mortification, for ere we marched more than a few minutes, we were joined by a Maréchal de Logis, who accompanied us to our quarters,—one of the buildings adjoining the Palace,—where we found everything in readiness for our arrival. And there! to my surprise, discovered that a most sumptuous supper awaited me,—a politeness I was utterly a stranger to, not being over-cognizant of the etiquette and privilege which await the officer on guard at a Royal Palace.
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE PARK OF VERSAILLES
The instructions delivered to me soon after my arrival in Versailles convinced me that the transmission of despatches was not the service we were called on to discharge, but merely a pretence to blind others as to our presence; the real duty being the establishment of a cordon around the Royal Palace, permitting no one to enter or pass within the precincts who was not provided with a regular leave, and empowering us to detain all suspected individuals, and forward them for examination to St. Cloud.
To avoid all suspicion as to the true object, the men were ordered to pass from place to place as if with despatches, many being stationed in different parts of the park; my duty requiring me to be continually on the alert to visit these pickets, and make a daily report to the Préfet de Police at Paris.