“There is no reason why any man should not study, and still less why he should not think,” replied the other. “I have done both, I acknowledge. There are more sins committed in France every day than that.”
“And pray where do you live?” asked Father Bonneville.
“Come and see,” replied the stranger. “Your horses seem tired, and I have still some nine miles to go, but we can ride slowly, and at this next turn we shall quit the high road, which will be a convenience.”
Father Bonneville agreed to the proposal, and we rode on by the side of our inviter in desultory conversation, pointed occasionally by references to passing political events, but generally referring to subjects altogether indifferent. I was dreadfully tired, I confess, before we got to the end of our long, slow journey. At length after two hours’ quiet ride, the stranger said, “We are coming to my home, where you will be very welcome, and it is as well for you to stay there to-night; for there is a grand fête of Liberty going on in most of the villages round, and that lady, like most other pagan deities, is very fond of human sacrifices. Now it does not much matter whether one is crushed under the wheels of Juggernaut, or burned by Druids in a basket of wicker-work, or made to pass through the fire like the children of those obedient and docile Israelites of old, or have one’s head chopped off on a little platform in a public square, before the image of a monstrous woman, in a red night-cap, and with a spear in her hand. It does not much matter, I say; but all are disagreeable, and all are to be avoided by every reasonable means. You will therefore be better in my home there, than in any inn in the neighborhood.”
“Where?” asked Father Bonneville, gazing on before him, in expectation of seeing a farmer’s house.
“There,” replied the stranger, pointing to a magnificent château upon a rising ground near. “You marvel, I see, and I can guess your inquiry—how I have contrived to keep possession of my own, when the universal war-cry through all France is, ‘War to the Castle, Peace to the Cottage.’ I have not time for long explanation; but sufficient may be told briefly. You see this coat of coarse gray cloth. It is the sign, the key, of my whole life. I too was bred an ecclesiastic. The death of three elder brothers put me in possession of that thing upon the hill. I have unfrocked myself, but I retain my early habits, and respect my voluntary vows. I remain in two or three little chambers, while very often boors revel in the halls of my ancestors. But they have a shrewd notion that if I were gone they would not have the means of revelry to as great an extent as at present—that if my property was confiscated, it would fall into the hands of worse men than myself; and so long as I, the master of it, act but as the steward of it, they are well contented to leave me alone in my office without bringing my head to the guillotine, which would be of no use at all to any one, and without seizing upon my lands, it would be a great embarrassment to themselves. Moreover, I have once or twice threatened to resign all my possessions into the hands of the Commune, and the very lowest of the people have been those to beseech me the most earnestly to refrain, knowing very well that they get a better part of the spoil now than they otherwise would. Thus I have got a certain command over them, and I do what I like without fear of any buzzing rumors, or public denunciations. The man who denounced me would very soon find his way to the lantern, and as it is unpleasant to occupy in darkness the place of a light, with a rope round one’s neck, people abstain. There are a hundred people in yonder town who could hang me to-morrow; but my death would be sure to hang a hundred of themselves, and therefore I have the majority on my side. But come, let us go in through the gates.”
We entered the château, leaving our horses in the care of a laboring man in the court, who seemed not a bit less respectful to the master of the house than the servant of any old noble in the ancient days. This was in itself an anomaly in those times; for the vain desire of equality had completely perverted men’s judgments, and they sought not alone to sweep away the differences created by a long established social system, but even those fundamental differences produced by the will of God. I believe, in those days—amongst a great mass of the people at least—as much jealous hatred was felt toward superior intellect as toward superior wealth or superior station.
On passing the doors of the building we found some ten or twelve men seated in the eating-room drinking and talking. The master of the house passed through, nodded to them, called them citizens, and said, “Make good cheer of it. There is more where that comes from.”
A cheerful, good-humored laugh was the reply, and he walked on up the stairs, leading us to a little suite of apartments which he reserved for himself, and where his privacy was respected even by the rude men who surrounded him. There he left us, and went out to procure some refreshment for us, part of which he brought in himself. The rest, with a considerable quantity of plate, which he seemed to think in perfect security, notwithstanding open doors and strange visitors, was brought in by a servant of the old school, but not in livery. When the man was gone we ate and drank and refreshed ourselves, and a conversation, not only of interest but of importance, occurred between our entertainer and Father Bonneville. The former seemed to comprehend our situation, or at least as much of it as was necessary, without any explanation; and he gave a great deal of very good and minute advice as to our conduct while traveling through France. He advised the good Father, strongly, to put on a brown coat, saying that the reputation of an abbé was worse than that of a priest. He advised him also to give up the plan of traveling on horseback, and betake himself to a chaise de poste.
“I don’t ask where you are going, or what you intend to do, but by coming with post-horses, and lodging at the post-house, wherever they entertain there, you gain favor with one class of the community whose assistance is of great importance to travelers.”