Which? Or, Between Two Women

by Ernest Daudet

A few days later, the États Généraux assembled at Versailles; but their time was spent in bickerings and in sterile discussions while oppressed and panting France vainly awaited the salutary reforms they were expected to effect. From May, the date of their meeting, to the immortal night of the Fourth of August, when the nation entered upon an era that was to atone for so many disasters, one event succeeded another with bewildering rapidity. The victorious resistance of the Third Estate to the pretensions of the nobility and clergy; the proclamation of the king; the movement of the French Guards; their imprisonment; their deliverance by the people; the intrigues of the Orleans party; the taking of the Bastile; the death of Foulon and of Berthier came one after another to accelerate the progress of the revolutionary movement which was already advancing rapidly.

In 1790, famine was at the gates of Paris and threatened to spread over all France. Armed brigands, taking advantage of the general disorder, began to lay waste the provinces. In many parts of the country, the peasants joined them; in others, they resisted them. These brigands attacked the châteaux, they burned several and pillaged others. Finally, dread of a foreign foe was added to all these fears, and the people accused the nobility of calling a foreign nation to their assistance.

These are some of the many events that served to distract Philip de Chamondrin's mind from his disappointment and delay his marriage to Antoinette de Mirandol. Anxious as the Marquis was to hasten this union, he shared the general apprehension too strongly to urge his son to marry at such a time. The inmates of the château were troubled and depressed. Gloomy news from the outer world reached them daily. The king's life was believed to be in danger. A dozen times Philip had almost decided to start for Versailles to die, if need be, in the service of his sovereign; but Coursegol succeeded in convincing him that his presence was a necessity at Chamondrin, and that he could not go away without leaving the Marquis and Antoinette exposed to the gravest peril. Coursegol had several reasons for dissuading his young master from his purpose, the chief of which was that he did not wish to go himself. In case of actual danger, he could be of great service to the Marquis. Thanks to his plebeian origin, to his many acquaintances and to his reputation as a good fellow in Nîmes and in Beaucaire, he could mingle with the crowd, converse with the peasantry, question the artisans and discover their temper and plans. In case the château was attacked, he would also be able to make many friends for the Marquis and call quite a number of defenders to his aid. Then, too, he could not endure the thought of going so far from Arles while Dolores was there, alone and defenceless, and might need his protection at any moment.

So Philip did not go, but together with his father and Coursegol he began to make arrangements for the defence of the château. They augmented their force by the addition of three or four men upon whose fidelity they could implicitly rely. Coursegol was also promised the services of several peasants. The Marquis frequently visited the little town of Remoulins, that lay a few miles from the château on the other side of the Gardon, and he still had a few warm friends there, some of whom had desired to send him to the États Généraux. They, too, promised to come to his assistance in case of an attack on the castle. If the former masters of Chamondrin had been tyrants this was now forgotten. The large possessions which would have endowed them with feudal rights were theirs no longer. For several years Dolores and the Marquise de Chamondrin had endeavored to obliterate the memory of the past by visiting the poor and the sick around them, and Antoinette de Mirandol had perpetuated the memory of their good deeds by imitating their example.

Hence they had nothing to apprehend from those in their immediate neighborhood; but they had every reason to fear the many lawless bands that were now scouring that region of country, ostensibly attracted there by the fair that was to be held at Beaucaire in the month of July—bands of armed and desperate men, who plundered and pillaged and lived by rapine. The Bohemians, too, who passed the Pont du Gard each spring and autumn, inspired the inmates of the château with no slight dread, as it seemed more than likely they would take advantage of the general disorder that prevailed to commit depredations upon any isolated dwellings that tempted their cupidity. Moreover, north of Nîmes there were several villages whose fanatical and intensely excited inhabitants were strongly urged by their leaders to make an attack upon the Catholics, who were accused of opposition to the reform movement. It was rumored that these people intended to march upon Nîmes, burn the city and put its population to the sword. Was there not good reason to fear that these men, if they succeeded in this undertaking, would take it into their heads to spread death and destruction beyond the walls of Nîmes. No apprehension was ridiculous, no prudence was exaggerated at a time when all France trembled.

Such were the causes that had induced the Marquis and his son to prepare for an attack on the castle. In spite of their precautions, they could not conceal these preparations from Antoinette. She courageously assisted them, almost thankful for the perils that menaced their safety, since they detained Philip at the château. She loved him even more devotedly than ever, and, if she shuddered sometimes at the thought that a life so precious to her might be endangered at any moment, she comforted herself by thinking she would at least have the consolation of dying with him.

But the Marquis was beset by many scruples. He felt that he did wrong to expose Antoinette to such danger, since she did not yet belong to his family and since he had promised her dying father to protect her and her fortune until the day of her marriage. He finally decided to send her to England, which she would find a safer retreat than the Château de Chamondrin. He confided this project to Antoinette, but he had scarcely broached the subject when, the girl interrupted him with these words:

"If you love me, do not separate me from Philip!"

The Marquis could not resist this entreaty. Antoinette remained.