“If I venture to present myself at your house, Monsieur,” said Maurice, gravely and impressively, “it is because I know all. I have discovered your revengeful project. You are looking for men to aid you, are you not? Very well! look me in the face, in the eyes, and tell me if I am not one of those whom a leader is glad to enroll among his followers.”
M. Lacheneur was terribly agitated.
“I do not know what you mean,” he faltered, forgetting his feigned anger; “I have no projects.”
“Would you assert this upon oath? Why are you casting these bullets? You are clumsy conspirators. You should lock your door; someone else might have entered.”
And adding example to precept, he turned and pushed the bolt.
“This is only an imprudence,” he continued; “but to reject a soldier who comes to you voluntarily would be a fault for which your associate would have a right to call you to account. I have no desire, understand me, to force myself into your confidence. No, I give myself to you blindly, body and soul. Whatever your cause may be, I declare it mine; what you wish, I wish; I adopt your plans; your enemies are my enemies; command, I will obey. I ask only one favor, that of fighting, of triumphing, or of dying by your side.”
“Oh! refuse, father!” exclaimed Marie-Anne; “refuse. To accept this offer would be a crime!”
“A crime! And why, if you please?”
“Because our cause is not your cause; because its success is doubtful; because dangers surround us on every side.”
A scornful exclamation from Maurice interrupted her.