There was not an incident of my life since my landing in France I did not call to mind; and yet, save in the unhappy meeting with De Beauvais, I could not see the slightest probability that even malevolence could attach anything to my reputation. “From d'Ervan, it is true, I heard more than once opinions that startled me; less, however, by anything direct in their meaning, than that they were totally new and strange. And yet the abbé, I had every reason to believe, was a friend of the present Government; at least it was evident he was on terms of close intimacy with Monsieur Savary.
“De Beauvais must clear up some of these doubts for me,” thought I; “he must inform me more particularly as to those to whom he introduced me. I shall endeavor to learn, too, something of their schemes, and thus guard myself against the mere chance of suspicion; for unquestionably he is not in ignorance of the movement, whatever it be.” And with such intentions I hurried onwards, eager to reach my quarters.
As I entered my room, a low, heavy sob broke on my ear; I started back with surprise. It was De Beauvais, who sat, his head buried in his hands, leaning on the table.
“Ha!” said he, springing up, and passing his hand hurriedly across his eyes, “so soon back! I scarcely expected you.”
“It is past ten o'clock,—a full hour later than my usual return.”
“Indeed!” rejoined he, with an air of impertinent surprise. “So then your pickets have been arresting and detaining some poor devils gathering fagots or acorns? or have you unfathomed the depth of this terrible plot your Préfet de Police has become insane about?”
“Neither,” said I, affecting a careless tone. “The Government of the Consul is sufficiently strong to make men's minds easy on that score. Whatever intrigues are at work, they are as little likely to escape his keen eye as their perpetrators are, when taken, the fire of a grenadier company.”
“Ma foi! sir, you speak confidently,” replied he, in an accent of pride totally different from his former tone. “And yet I have heard of persons just as confident, too, who afterwards confessed they had been mistaken. But perhaps it seems less strange to you that a sous-lieutenant of artillery should rule the destinies of France, than that the King of the country should resume the throne of his ancestors.”
“Take care, De Beauvais, with whom you speak. I warn you; and be assured I 'll not be trifled with. One word more, and I put you under arrest.”
“Not here, surely,” replied he, in a low and searching voice,—“not here. Let us walk out into the park. Let it be in the great alley, or on the terrace yonder; or, better still, let the capture take place in the wood; but do not let your loyalty violate the hospitality of your home.”