CHAPTER XXV.

IN WHICH LÉON PLAYS THE PART OF BAYARD TO A LIMITED AUDIENCE.

PREPARATIONS for a prolonged absence from home-packing up of clothes, sorting and burning of papers, paying of outstanding bills, and all the other troublesome little duties which crop up thick and fast at such times-are not, in themselves, very enjoyable; but in so far as they serve to dull the pain of parting, they must be acknowledged to be blessings in disguise. Léon had his hands so full during the brief remaining period of his liberty, that neither he nor Jeanne had much leisure for reflection; and this was, perhaps, just as well for both of them.

The time, indeed, proved shorter even than the embryo soldier had anticipated; for on the very day after that on which M. de Fontvieille had divulged his intentions, he received orders from Tours to join his new regiment within a week; and thus a great deal of business had to be crowded into a very few hours, while not a little had to be neglected altogether. Pierre Cauvin, an honest but obstinate and punctilious old person, did not help much to expedite matters. He insisted upon it that he must have categorical instructions from his young master upon a variety of points which might easily have been left to his own discretion; where difficulties did not already exist he managed to create them; and it was owing to his representations that Léon's last day was spent far away from home, upon the stud-farm at Koléah, inspecting horses, and authorizing the sale of all such as were in a fit condition to fetch their proper value.

It was not until after nightfall that Léon, dusty and weary, rode into the stable-yard of the Campagne de Mersac. Jeanne saw him arrive from the window of her bedroom, where she had been busy, all the afternoon, over the hopeless task of compressing every article of necessity and luxury she could think of into the modest limits of a soldier's kit. She saw him dismount, and hastily wash his face and hands at the pump, while a groom brushed him down; and

then, to her great disappointment, a fresh horse was led out, and he swung himself into the saddle, and rode away again. After a few minutes a scrap of paper was brought to her, on which he had scribbled: "No time to come in. One or two more things that I must do. Back in an hour, I hope."

"Poor boy!" murmured Jeanne," he will tire himself out." And then she went downstairs, dragged out the most comfortable arm-chair she could find on to the veranda, and placed a table beside it, with cigars and ice and wine, ready for his return. She would doubt: less have done as much had she been aware of the nature of her brother's errand; but she would have done it with a somewhat heavier heart; and it was probably because he was aware of this that Léon had thoughtfully abstained from mentioning that one of the few precious hours still at his disposition was to be devoted to Madame de Trémonville.

The scirocco had blown itself out now, and had ended with a short, sharp shower, a welcome herald of the longedfor autumnal rains. Filmy wreaths of wind-driven clouds were sailing high beneath the stars, a grateful smell of moisture was rising from the parched earth, and the outlines of all distant objects were clear against the sky, as Léon cantered over the hills toward Mustapha. There were lights in the drawing-room of the villa before which he drew rein at length; and the servant who answered his ring informed him that madame was alone, and would receive. Madame, who was seated at the piano, did not rise upon the entrance of her admirer.

"Ah, it is you," said she, smiling and nodding at him. "And so you are really going to the war, and you have come to bid me good-by. Do you know that is very pretty of you?"

And, striking a few chords, she began. to sing, half mockingly:

Beau chevalier, qui partez pour la guerre,
Qu'allez vous faire

Si loin d'ici ?

Voyez-vous pas que la nuit est profonde, Et que le monde

N'est que souci?

But as Léon put a very grave face upon

it, she broke off, took him by both hands, and forcing him gently on to a footstool at her feet, looked straight into his eyes, with a gaze that might have troubled an older man, sighing ever so slightly the while.

"So then it is all over,' "she murmured. "Go, Monsieur le Marquis, go, and forget your friends. We, on our side, shall try to forget you too. That is what you wish, is it not?"

"I wish you to forget me, madame!'' ejaculated Léon reproachfully. "You cannot be speaking seriously.'

"If you cared about the matter at all, you would not be in such a hurry to go away," returned Madame de Trémonville, averting her head.

"I am not in a hurry. I have remained here so long already that I am ashamed of myself. If I go now at last, it is because no honorable man could act otherwise. It is because—”

"Ah, bah!" interrupted the lady, with a sudden change of mood. Spare me the rest of the speech, I have heard it so often! I see you coming with your patriotic hymns- Mourir pour la patrie'-'Aux armes, citoyens !' All that is very well for the cafés-chantants, but it has gone out of fashion in drawingrooms, let me tell you.

"I have heard you sing the air yourself, madame," remarked Léon, rather hurt.

"In July last? Very likely. It was more or less of a novelty then, and we had an army which was going to march to Berlin, tambour battant. Now that every man in the country has been shouting, every woman screeching, every little boy whistling, and every dog barking the Marseillaise incessantly for three months, I am beginning to grow a little tired of it; and instead of the army, which exists no longer, we have the undisciplined, mutinous rabble which you are so eager to join. I wish you joy of your comrades.

"Such as they are, they have taken up arms against the invader."

"And they show their contempt for him by turning their backs upon him whenever he appears. Do not scowl at me: it is not polite. I know that there are brave men, and men of family amongst this canaille; but, for any good they are likely to do, they might as well NEW SERIES.-VOL. XXXI., No. 1.

have remained at home. The game was lost long ago; and it is time that we stopped playing and paid the stakes. By the way, there was a rumor in the town to-day that Bazaine had capitulated to the Prince Frederick-Charles." "Impossible!"'

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Not in the least-nor even improbable. For my part, I hope the news may be true. It will bring us nearer to the end."

This was more than Léon could endure. Many things had combined to make him doubt, of late, whether Madame de Trémonville were quite the ideal being he had once imagined her; but he had never, until now, believed her capable of rejoicing over the misfortunes of her country.

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"Madame,' said he, getting up with a tragic air, which nearly upset the gravity of his entertainer, I hope that you do not mean what you say; but whether you do or not, I cannot stay here to listen to such words. You spoke just now of my forgetting you. That I shall never do; but I wish to have nothing but what is agreeable associated with you in my memory; and for that reason I shall now, with your permission, bid you goodby.'

Madame de Trémonville's answer to this dignified address was of a practical and effective kind. She started to her feet, laid a tiny, dimpled hand on each of Léon's broad shoulders, and compelled him to subside again on to the footstool from which he had just arisen, like a Jack-in-the-box. She did not choose that Léon should go away in a huff, for two reasons: firstly, because she was greedy of admiration, and would almost as soon have parted with one of her diamonds as with the dullest of her adorers; secondly, because she had wit enough to see that, in those days, it behooved wise people to have friends in all parties. Who could tell what future might lie hidden behind the mists of the present? Henri V. might be reigning, by the grace of God, in France before the year was out; and then the Marquis de Mersac might have a nice little appointment, or possibly a big one, to offer to any one who should have been fortunate enough to gain his good opinion.

"Sit down, my brave knight," said she, in a tone of soft raillery,

7

and do

not quarrel with a poor, ignorant woman, who knows very little about battles and politics. The Seigneur de Bayard, whom you resemble in many points, would never have permitted himself to speak so roughly to a lady. But he has been dead these four hundred years; and since his time we have forgotten much, and also learnt some few things-amongst others that it is a crime to sacrifice life uselessly. I am as good a patriot as another-as M. Gambetta, for instance, or yourself-but it is not forbidden, while loving one's country, to love also-what am I saying? -to feel some anxiety about the safety of one's friends.'

"Oh, madame! do you mean-can you mean?''

"What? That I should be sorry if you were to meet with Bayard's fate? I don't say no.'

Léon was seated a bare three inches above the level of the ground, his long legs gathered up uncomfortably before him, and his nose resting on his knees. It was neither an easy nor a graceful attitude, and it occurred to him to change it.

A moment later, the unsuspecting M. de Trémonville, hurrying into the room in search of some papers, was privileged to behold through his spectacles-a highly effective tableau. His wife, seated upon a music-stool, was holding a lacebordered pocket-handkerchief to her eyes with her left hand, while her right was passively receiving the ardent kisses of an exceedingly handsome young man. who knelt before her.

"Cré nom de nom!" ejaculated the astounded husband, forgetful of acquired good breeding, and falling back, in his surprise, upon the simple expletives of his youth.

Léon scrambled to his feet, looking very sheepish, and, truth to tell, wishing most devoutly in his heart that he had never come to the villa at all; and Madame de Trémonville burst into a peal of uncontrollable laughter. The situation was, perhaps, not so entirely novel a one to her as to cause her any special embarrassment.

The more she laughed the blacker grew the countenances of the two men, both of whom might, indeed, be excused for failing to appreciate the joke.

"When you have quite conquered your merriment, madame," said M. de Trémonville in a tone of suppressed fury, "you will perhaps offer me some explanation of your conduct. As for Monsieur le Marquis—"

"I am ready to give you any satisfaction you may demand, monsieur,' said poor Léon dolefully.

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Madame de Trémonville's gayety redoubled. A duel!" she cried, clapping her hands ecstatically. “Charming! perfect! Ah, Baptiste! how many times have I not entreated you to take a few lessons in fencing, and to practise with a pistol, from time to time, in the garden? Something has always told me that you were destined to have an affair, and now you see that I was right.”’

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Duelling is contrary to my principles," replied M. de Trémonville, who had turned a trifle pale; "also I decline to risk my life for the sake of one so worthless as you. Your perfidy, madame, is equalled only by your effrontery.'

Hush hush! my poor Baptiste. Those who have not the courage to fight should not use insulting language. Pick up your papers and go back to your study; you will never learn to be a man of the world. After your absurd behavior you deserve no explanation, nevertheless you shall have one. When you came in, M. de Mersac-who leaves for France to-morrow morning-was only bidding me adieu in the style of the middle ages, a period of history which he especially admires, and which, I must admit, had the advantage of ours in point of courtesy. Let this be a lesson to you, Baptiste, not to judge by first appearances, and to refrain from vulgar expressions of astonishment at the sight of any thing that you do not understand."

In that case," answered M. de Trémonville, accepting this lame explanation with somewhat suspicious readiness, "I can only offer my excuses to you and to monsieur. Monsieur le Marquis, permit me to express to you my unfeigned regret-"

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Enough! enough!" interrupted Madame de Trémonville unceremoniously. "They are accepted-your excuses. You have spoilt a pretty little piece of acting; but we forgive you, and will de

tain you no longer." And, as the docr closed upon the mystified husband, she gave way to another outburst of mirth.

"What a ridiculous incident!" she exclaimed. "It has killed romance for the remainder of the evening, that is certain. With the best will in the world I could not begin again where I left off. What shall we do now to amuse ourselves? Shall I sing to you, or shall we have a game of écarté? Or would you like to take a walk round the garden? I am dying for a mouthful of fresh air."

But Léon replied gravely that he must resist all these temptations. He had promised to return home within an hour, and had already considerably over-stayed his time. In truth, the scene in which he had just taken part had disconcerted him not a little. He was not sure that he had been any less ridiculous than M. de Trémonville, or even that he had been any less laughed at.

"Adieu, madame," said he, in melancholy accents; and he contrived to infuse a tinge of reproach into his tone.

"Adieu, monsieur," she replied carelessly, executing a flourish upon the piano.

She never raised her eyes from the keys until Léon had reached the door; then she jumped up, ran after him, and laid her hand upon his arm.

"Can you leave me like that?" she cried. Have you nothing more to say to me?"

"Nothing that you would care to hear, madame," answered Léon hesitatingly.

"Who knows? But you are right, perhaps, to keep silence if you desire to be remembered. You will always live in my memory now as the most discreet young man I have ever met. Let me only give you a little forecast of your fate -it will not take a minute-and then you shall go in peace."

She took up a pack of cards which lay on the table as she spoke, and began rapidly dealing them out.

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A long journey-danger-honor and success," she muttered. Ah! there is the king of spades, which spoils all. Ace of hearts, that is better-a crisis ; but you will come out of it safely-two of diamonds-two of clubs-" The jewels on her plump white hands flashed as she deftly shifted the cards hither and thither; the lines about her mouth deep

ened; an anxious frown gathered on her well-powdered brow. Madame de Trémonville had next to no conscience, and very little religion; but as a set-off she had a rich store of misdirected faith. "Things might be worse for you,' she announced at length, quite seriously; but you will have troubles and dangers to pass through, and it is well to be prepared against every emergency. Take this, and wear it always round your neck; it is an Arab amulet, which a general, who is dead now, gave me years ago. They say it is a protection against mortal wounds. For the rest, I will pray the blessed Virgin and your patron Saint to watch over you. Now go; I permit you to kiss my hand."

The next minute she was back at the piano, and had resumed her ordinary light manner.

"Beau chevalier, qui partez pour la guerre," she sang again

Beau chevalier, qui partez pour la guerre,
Qu'allez vous faire

Si loin de nous ?

J'en vais pleurer, moi qui me laissais dire, Que mon sourire

Etait si doux.

The refrain hung in Léon's head long after he had ridden away in the starlight, and had recovered from the bewilderment into which he had been thrown by this fantastic farewell. It was the last he ever heard of Madame de Trémonville.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE LAST EVENING.

WHILE Léon was spending his valuable time in the edifying manner described in the last chapter, Jeanne was waiting for him on the veranda with such patience as she could command. Her long day's work was finished; her back was aching with stooping over trunks and folding up clothes; her eyes were tired and heavy; and to sit thus idly in the still night air would have been perhaps the most sensible thing she could have done, if inaction were what it unfortunately is not, synonymous with rest.

So lovely and quiet a night might have. brought her peace had she been in a mood susceptible to external influences. All the world around her lay wrapped in a dreamy silence, enhanced, rather than broken, by the snoring croak of the frogs