"It was too bad," groaned Clovis, who really was growing frightened. The details of the inheritance settled, what was to detain a party of provincials, who no longer had business in the dangerous proximity of the whirlpool? If the heritage had been left in a proper manner, all would have been well; for there would be nothing more natural than for the head of the family to issue peremptory and dignified orders for immediate departure. Even Gabrielle, who steadfastly declined to be of the elect, ought--by reason of her gentle birth--to have preferred the philanthropic society of an adept and the virtues of a magic tub at a safe distance, to the chance of rubbing shoulders with a Marat or a Robespierre, or enduring blue-stocking lectures from an upstart Madame Roland. Though young and handsome, that person was a political pen-woman--horrid precedent! But the contrariness of the feminine nature is proverbial. As was to be expected, the heiress was gloating over the shame of those she held in leash, and refused to leave the hurly-burly just to annoy her husband.
As to this Pharamond fully agreed with Clovis. There was nothing to be gained but possible mishaps by lingering in Paris; and he was the more anxious to be off that he found himself a nonentity there. The fields he burned to cultivate were lying fallow. His house of cards was making no progress; he seemed actually to be losing ground. The abbé was a busy bee whose time was being wasted.
Had not Gabrielle and Clovis become hopelessly estranged she might have confided to him her deep sorrow for the queen, and her unflinching determination to remain beside her, so long as she could be of use. In better days, the queen had been her benefactress, and she loved her as all did who knew her well.
But days of confidence were over now, never to be recalled. The seasons revolved, and spring came round again to find the De Ganges still in Paris.
It is only fair to say that Clovis was sorry for the position of their majesties; but being of lymphatic temperament he had decided long ago that disagreeable things which could not be helped, and which did not injure himself, were promptly to be set aside.
Ill-starred Marie Antoinette! Is it to underline the fact of mundane injustice that the innocent are so often scapegoats for the black sheep? There was no abomination, however monstrous, of which the mob, maddened by professional agitators, did not believe her to be capable. Murder, adultery, theft.
She sometimes mournfully reminded Gabrielle of the evening--it must have been a thousand years ago--when they had discussed their horoscopes. "The iron grave-clothes, as was foretold, are slowly wrapping me," she said, "to stifle my breath and crush my bones. I hope and believe, dear Gabrielle, that your prophet lied, for you are content and well. Happiness, we all are bound to learn does not exist. That will perhaps appear as a fresh and welcome acquaintance at some later stage of the long journey. You are well, my dear, and I am glad, but I may not keep you, for here we are under the ban. I would not have the faithful few to share the fate which daily approaches nearer."
Gabrielle sighed, but kept her counsel, for why should she inflict her own sorrows on one so sorely stricken? Content? No. Not even that--much less happy. She who needed sympathy and support so much that without them she felt her fibres paralysed, had come to know that all the battles of our inner life must be fought out alone, hand to hand, in solitude, and that no friend, not even the dearest, can help us in the conflict. She had learned that much during hours of self-communing at Lorge, and the discovery dismayed her. In the next world, the Christians say there is no marrying or giving in marriage. Each soul is a single unit, the bonds of life-chains shattered. It is so even in this life, though many see it not; when the real tussle comes, the spirit stands unaided, deprived of succour from without, to triumph or to fall alone.
It was her anxious wish to stay beside the queen and cheer her, and by so doing cheer herself. To be certain that some one longed for her advent, and that her appearance in a doorway was like the glinting of a welcome sunbeam, was a novel and refreshing sensation after the gruesome experiences of Lorge. There was no need to trouble about the prodigies, seeing that they were enjoying the best of air under surveillance of Toinon and her betrothed. The old mother, who sadly missed the perennial scoldings of the irascible defunct, also needed her presence, for was she not more helpless than her child? Gabrielle, counselled by M. Galland, had settled that the old lady was to move to a small house of modest aspect in the suburbs, where she could vegetate unharmed by revolutionary turbulence, and arranged with the family solicitor to keep a watchful eye on her.
The marquise had a variety of reasons, then, for desiring to remain in the capital.