least."
"We shall see. I will no longer detain you, M. de Villefort, for you
must be fatigued after so long a journey; go and rest. Of course you
stopped at your father's?" A feeling of faintness came over Villefort.
"No, sire," he replied, "I alighted at the Hotel de Madrid, in the Rue
de Tournon."
"But you have seen him?"
"Sire, I went straight to the Duc de Blacas."
"But you will see him, then?"
"I think not, sire."
"Ah, I forgot," said Louis, smiling in a manner which proved that all
these questions were not made without a motive; "I forgot you and
M. Noirtier are not on the best terms possible, and that is another
sacrifice made to the royal cause, and for which you should be
recompensed."
"Sire, the kindness your majesty deigns to evince towards me is a
recompense which so far surpasses my utmost ambition that I have nothing
more to ask for."
"Never mind, sir, we will not forget you; make your mind easy. In the
meanwhile" (the king here detached the cross of the Legion of Honor
which he usually wore over his blue coat, near the cross of St. Louis,
above the order of Notre-Dame-du-Mont-Carmel and St. Lazare, and gave it
to Villefort)--"in the meanwhile take this cross."
"Sire," said Villefort, "your majesty mistakes; this is an officer's
cross."
"Ma foi," said Louis XVIII., "take it, such as it is, for I have not the
time to procure you another. Blacas, let it be your care to see that the
brevet is made out and sent to M. de Villefort." Villefort's eyes were
filled with tears of joy and pride; he took the cross and kissed it.
"And now," he said, "may I inquire what are the orders with which your
majesty deigns to honor me?"
"Take what rest you require, and remember that if you are not able to
serve me here in Paris, you may be of the greatest service to me at
Marseilles."
"Sire," replied Villefort, bowing, "in an hour I shall have quitted
Paris."
"Go, sir," said the king; "and should I forget you (kings' memories are
short), do not be afraid to bring yourself to my recollection. Baron,
send for the minister of war. Blacas, remain."
"Ah, sir," said the minister of police to Villefort, as they left the
Tuileries, "you entered by luck's door--your fortune is made."
"Will it be long first?" muttered Villefort, saluting the minister,
whose career was ended, and looking about him for a hackney-coach.
One passed at the moment, which he hailed; he gave his address to the
driver, and springing in, threw himself on the seat, and gave loose to
dreams of ambition.
Ten minutes afterwards Villefort reached his hotel, ordered horses to be
ready in two hours, and asked to have his breakfast brought to him. He
was about to begin his repast when the sound of the bell rang sharp and
loud. The valet opened the door, and Villefort heard some one speak his
name.
"Who could know that I was here already?" said the young man. The valet
entered.
"Well," said Villefort, "what is it?--Who rang?--Who asked for me?"
"A stranger who will not send in his name."
"A stranger who will not send in his name! What can he want with me?"
"He wishes to speak to you."
"To me?"
"Yes."
"Did he mention my name?"
"Yes."
"What sort of person is he?"
"Why, sir, a man of about fifty."
"Short or tall?"
"About your own height, sir."
"Dark or fair?"
"Dark,--very dark; with black eyes, black hair, black eyebrows."
"And how dressed?" asked Villefort quickly.
"In a blue frock-coat, buttoned up close, decorated with the Legion of
Honor."
"It is he!" said Villefort, turning pale.
"Eh, pardieu," said the individual whose description we have twice
given, entering the door, "what a great deal of ceremony! Is it the
custom in Marseilles for sons to keep their fathers waiting in their
anterooms?"
"Father!" cried Villefort, "then I was not deceived; I felt sure it must
be you."
"Well, then, if you felt so sure," replied the new-comer, putting his
cane in a corner and his hat on a chair, "allow me to say, my dear
Gerard, that it was not very filial of you to keep me waiting at the
door."
"Leave us, Germain," said Villefort. The servant quitted the apartment
with evident signs of astonishment.
Chapter 12. Father and Son.
M. Noirtier--for it was, indeed, he who entered--looked after the
servant until the door was closed, and then, fearing, no doubt, that he
might be overheard in the ante-chamber, he opened the door again,
nor was the precaution useless, as appeared from the rapid retreat of
Germain, who proved that he was not exempt from the sin which ruined our
first parents. M. Noirtier then took the trouble to close and bolt the
ante-chamber door, then that of the bed-chamber, and then extended his
hand to Villefort, who had followed all his motions with surprise which
he could not conceal.
"Well, now, my dear Gerard," said he to the young man, with a very
significant look, "do you know, you seem as if you were not very glad to
see me?"
"My dear father," said Villefort, "I am, on the contrary, delighted; but
I so little expected your visit, that it has somewhat overcome me."
"But, my dear fellow," replied M. Noirtier, seating himself, "I might
say the same thing to you, when you announce to me your wedding for the
28th of February, and on the 3rd of March you turn up here in Paris."
"And if I have come, my dear father," said Gerard, drawing closer to
M. Noirtier, "do not complain, for it is for you that I came, and my
journey will be your salvation."
"Ah, indeed!" said M. Noirtier, stretching himself out at his ease
in the chair. "Really, pray tell me all about it, for it must be
interesting."
"Father, you have heard speak of a certain Bonapartist club in the Rue
Saint-Jacques?"
"No. 53; yes, I am vice-president."
"Father, your coolness makes me shudder."
"Why, my dear boy, when a man has been proscribed by the mountaineers,
has escaped from Paris in a hay-cart, been hunted over the plains of
Bordeaux by Robespierre's bloodhounds, he becomes accustomed to most
things. But go on, what about the club in the Rue Saint-Jacques?"
"Why, they induced General Quesnel to go there, and General Quesnel, who
quitted his own house at nine o'clock in the evening, was found the next
day in the Seine."
"And who told you this fine story?"
"The king himself."
"Well, then, in return for your story," continued Noirtier, "I will tell
you another."
"My dear father, I think I already know what you are about to tell me."
"Ah, you have heard of the landing of the emperor?"
"Not so loud, father, I entreat of you--for your own sake as well as
mine. Yes, I heard this news, and knew it even before you could; for
three days ago I posted from Marseilles to Paris with all possible
speed, half-desperate at the enforced delay."
"Three days ago? You are crazy. Why, three days ago the emperor had not
landed."
"No matter, I was aware of his intention."
"How did you know about it?"
"By a letter addressed to you from the Island of Elba."
"To me?"
"To you; and which I discovered in the pocket-book of the messenger. Had
that letter fallen into the hands of another, you, my dear father, would
probably ere this have been shot." Villefort's father laughed.
"Come, come," said he, "will the Restoration adopt imperial methods so
promptly? Shot, my dear boy? What an idea! Where is the letter you speak
of? I know you too well to suppose you would allow such a thing to pass
you."
"I burnt it, for fear that even a fragment should remain; for that
letter must have led to your condemnation."
"And the destruction of your future prospects," replied Noirtier; "yes,
I can easily comprehend that. But I have nothing to fear while I have
you to protect me."
"I do better than that, sir--I save you."
"You do? Why, really, the thing becomes more and more dramatic--explain
yourself."
"I must refer again to the club in the Rue Saint-Jacques."
"It appears that this club is rather a bore to the police. Why didn't
they search more vigilantly? they would have found"--
"They have not found; but they are on the track."
"Yes, that the usual phrase; I am quite familiar with it. When the
police is at fault, it declares that it is on the track; and the
government patiently awaits the day when it comes to say, with a
sneaking air, that the track is lost."
"Yes, but they have found a corpse; the general has been killed, and in
all countries they call that a murder."
"A murder do you call it? why, there is nothing to prove that the
general was murdered. People are found every day in the Seine, having
thrown themselves in, or having been drowned from not knowing how to
swim."
"Father, you know very well that the general was not a man to drown
himself in despair, and people do not bathe in the Seine in the month of
January. No, no, do not be deceived; this was murder in every sense of
the word."
"And who thus designated it?"
"The king himself."
"The king! I thought he was philosopher enough to allow that there was
no murder in politics. In politics, my dear fellow, you know, as well
as I do, there are no men, but ideas--no feelings, but interests; in
politics we do not kill a man, we only remove an obstacle, that is all.
Would you like to know how matters have progressed? Well, I will tell
you. It was thought reliance might be placed in General Quesnel; he was
recommended to us from the Island of Elba; one of us went to him, and
invited him to the Rue Saint-Jacques, where he would find some friends.
He came there, and the plan was unfolded to him for leaving Elba, the
projected landing, etc. When he had heard and comprehended all to the
fullest extent, he replied that he was a royalist. Then all looked at
each other,--he was made to take an oath, and did so, but with such an
ill grace that it was really tempting Providence to swear him, and yet,
in spite of that, the general was allowed to depart free--perfectly
free. Yet he did not return home. What could that mean? why, my dear
fellow, that on leaving us he lost his way, that's all. A murder?
really, Villefort, you surprise me. You, a deputy procureur, to found
an accusation on such bad premises! Did I ever say to you, when you were
fulfilling your character as a royalist, and cut off the head of one of
my party, 'My son, you have committed a murder?' No, I said, 'Very well,
sir, you have gained the victory; to-morrow, perchance, it will be our
turn.'"
"But, father, take care; when our turn comes, our revenge will be
sweeping."
"I do not understand you."
"You rely on the usurper's return?"
"We do."
"You are mistaken; he will not advance two leagues into the interior of
France without being followed, tracked, and caught like a wild beast."
"My dear fellow, the emperor is at this moment on the way to Grenoble;
on the 10th or 12th he will be at Lyons, and on the 20th or 25th at
Paris."
"The people will rise."
"Yes, to go and meet him."
"He has but a handful of men with him, and armies will be despatched
against him."
"Yes, to escort him into the capital. Really, my dear Gerard, you are
but a child; you think yourself well informed because the telegraph
has told you, three days after the landing, 'The usurper has landed at
Cannes with several men. He is pursued.' But where is he? what is he
doing? You do not know at all, and in this way they will chase him to
Paris, without drawing a trigger."
"Grenoble and Lyons are faithful cities, and will oppose to him an
impassable barrier."
"Grenoble will open her gates to him with enthusiasm--all Lyons will
hasten to welcome him. Believe me, we are as well informed as you, and
our police are as good as your own. Would you like a proof of it? well,
you wished to conceal your journey from me, and yet I knew of your
arrival half an hour after you had passed the barrier. You gave your
direction to no one but your postilion, yet I have your address, and in
proof I am here the very instant you are going to sit at table. Ring,
then, if you please, for a second knife, fork, and plate, and we will
dine together."
"Indeed!" replied Villefort, looking at his father with astonishment,
"you really do seem very well informed."
"Eh? the thing is simple enough. You who are in power have only the
means that money produces--we who are in expectation, have those which
devotion prompts."
"Devotion!" said Villefort, with a sneer.
"Yes, devotion; for that is, I believe, the phrase for hopeful
ambition."
And Villefort's father extended his hand to the bell-rope, to summon the
servant whom his son had not called. Villefort caught his arm.
"Wait, my dear father," said the young man, "one word more."
"Say on."
"However stupid the royalist police may be, they do know one terrible
thing."
"What is that?"
"The description of the man who, on the morning of the day when General
