“Forgive me, I pray; I knew not what I said. You tempted me sorely, though. Think but for a moment, De Beauvais, how I stand here, and let your own heart judge me. I am an alien,—a friendless stranger. There lives not one in all the length and breadth of France who would raise a finger, or speak one word, to save me were my head in peril. My sword and my fidelity are all my hope; that both should remain pure and unblemished is all my wish. The grade I have I owe to him—”
“Great cause for gratitude, truly!” he broke in. “The chief élève of the Polytechnique is made a sous-lieutenant of cavalry, with functions of a sergeant of the gendarmerie, with orders to stop all travellers, and search their pockets. Shame on it! It was not thus the rightful sovereigns of France regarded those who wore their epaulettes; not thus did they esteem the soldier's part. Think, for a second, what you are, and then reflect what you might be. Cold and unimpassioned as you call yourself, I know your heart better. There lives not one who treasures a higher ambition in his breast than you. Ah! your eyes sparkle already. Think, then, I say, what a career opens before you, if you have courage to embrace it. It 's a great game that enables a man to spring from sous-lieutenant to colonel of a regiment. Come, Burke! I can have no reason, save your welfare, to press these considerations on you. What are you writing there?”
“A report to the Préfet de Police. I see now, however late it is, the unworthiness of the part I 've acted, in remaining in a service where I 've listened to statements such as these. I shall ask to have my grade withdrawn, and be reduced to the ranks; there, perhaps, I may be permitted to carry a soldier's musket without a stain upon my honor.”
“You can do better, sir,” interrupted he, as his face grew purple with passion, and his eyes flashed fire, “far better: call up your dragoons yonder, and place me, where you threatened, under arrest; forward your report to the minister, that Henri de Beauvais, Marquis et Pair de France when such things were, has been taken with the 'Croix de St. Louis' and the cordon in his possession.” Here he took from his bosom the decoration, and waved it above his head. “Add, too, that he came prepared to tempt your loyalty with this.” He drew forth at the words a parchment document, and dashed it on the table before me. “There, sir, read it; it is the King's own handwriting,—your brevet of colonel to a regiment of the Gardes. Such proofs of your devotion can scarcely go unrewarded. They may raise you to the rank of police spy. There is a lady yonder, too, who should also share in your elevation, as she does in your loyal sentiments; Mademoiselle de Meudon may be too quick for you. Lose no time, sir; such chances as these are not the fruit of every day. After all, I can scarcely go to the guillotine under better auspices than with my cousin and my friend as my betrayers. Mayhap, too, they 'll do you the honor to make you mount guard beside the scaffold. Such an occasion to display your devotion should not escape you,—David found it profitable to catch the expiring agonies of his own friends, as with easel and brush he sat beside the guillotine: the hint should not be lost.”
The insulting emphasis with which he spoke the last words cut me to the very heart, and I stood speechless before him, trembling like a criminal.
“Let us part, De Beauvais,” said I, at length, as I held my hand towards him. “Let us say adieu to each other, and forever. I can forgive all you have said to me, far better than I could myself had I listened to your persuasions. What may be honorable and just in you, would be black ingratitude and dark treachery in me. I shall now endeavor to forget we have ever met, and once more, good-by!”
“You are right,” replied he, after a pause of some seconds, and in a tone of great sadness; “we never should have met. Adieu!”
“One word more, De Beauvais. I find that I have been suspected of some treasonable intercourse; that even here I am watched and spied upon. Tell me, I beseech you, before you go, from what quarter comes this danger, that I may guard against it.”
“In good truth, you give me credit for quicker perceptions than I have any right to. How so loyal a gentleman should lie under such an imputation I cannot even guess.”
“Your sneers shall not provoke me. The fact is as I state it; and if you will not help me to the discovery, tell me, at least, who are the persons to whom you introduced me formerly at Beauvilliers's?”