latter, astonished at this sudden address, quickly raised his head.
"We have no time to lose in coming to an understanding, sir; so please to listen without interrupting me," the exempt continued. "I am François Bouillot, the younger brother of your foster father. Do you recognise me?"
"No," the Count replied, after examining him attentively for a moment.
"That does not surprise me, for you were only eight years old the last time I had the honor of seeing you at Barmont Castle: but that is of no consequence; I am devoted to you, and wish to save you."
"What assures me that you are really François Bouillot, the brother of my foster father, and that you are not attempting to deceive me?" the Count answered, in a suspicious accent.
The exempt felt in his pocket, pulled out several papers, which he unfolded, and presented them open to the Count.
The latter looked at them mechanically: they consisted of a baptismal certificate, a commission, and several letters proving his identity. The Count handed him the letters back.
"How is it that you should have been the man to arrest me, and arrived so opportunely to aid me?" he asked.
"In a very simple way, my lord: your order of arrest was obtained from the Cardinal Minister by the Dutch Embassy. I was present when M. de Laffemas, a familiar of his Eminence, who is kind to me, left the Palais Cardinal order in hand: I was there, and he chose me. Still, as I was able to decline, I should have done so, had I not seen your name on the paper, and remembered the kindness your family had shown to me and my brother. Taking advantage of the opportunity my profession of exempt offered me, I resolved to repay you what your friends have done for mine, by attempting to save you."
"That does not seem to me very easy, my poor friend."
"More so than you may fancy, my lord: I will leave here one-half our escort, and then only ten will remain with us."
"Hum! That is a very decent number," the Count replied, involuntarily interested.
"They would be too many if there were not among the ten men seven of whom I am certain, which reduces the number of those we have to fear to three. I have been running after you for a long time, my lord," he added, with a laugh, "and all my precautions are taken: through some excuse, easy to be found, we will pass through Toulon, and on arriving there, we will stop for an hour or two at a hostelry I know. You will disguise yourself as a mendicant monk, and leave the inn unnoticed. I will take care to get rid of the guards I am not certain of. You will proceed to the port furnished with papers I will hand you; you will go on board a charming chasse-marée, called the Seamew, which I have freighted on your account, and which is waiting for you. The master will recognise you by a password I will tell you, and you will be at liberty to go whither-soever you please. Is not this plan extremely simple, my lord?" he asked, rubbing his hands joyously, "And have I not foreseen everything?"
"No, my friend," the Count answered with emotion, as he offered him his hand; "there is one more thing you have not foreseen."
"What is that, my lord?" he asked, in surprise.
"That I do not wish to fly," the young man answered, with a melancholy shake of the head.
CHAPTER IV
THE ISLE OF SAINTE MARGUERITE
At this answer, which he was so far from anticipating, the exempt gave a start of surprise, and looked at the Count as if he had not exactly understood him.
The gentleman smiled gently.
"That surprises you, does it not?" he said.
"I confess it, my lord," the other stammered, with embarrassment.
The Count went on:
"Yes," he said, "I can understand your surprise at my refusal to accept your generous proposition. It is not often you find a prisoner to whom liberty is offered, and who insists on remaining a captive. I owe you an explanation of this extraordinary conduct; this explanation I will give you at once, so that you may no longer press me, but leave me to act as I think proper."
"I am only the most humble, of your servants, my lord Count. You doubtless know better than I what your conduct should be under the circumstances, you have therefore no occasion to explain it to me."
"It is precisely because you are an old servant of my family, François Bouillot, and because you are giving me at this moment a proof of unbounded devotion, that I believe myself obliged to tell you the motives for this refusal, which has so many reasons to surprise you. Listen to me, then."
"As you insist, my lord, I obey you."
"Very good, take a chair, and place yourself here by my side, as it is unnecessary for others beside yourself to hear what I am going to say."
The exempt took a stool and seated himself by his master's side, exactly as the latter had ordered, while still keeping up a respectful distance between himself and the gentleman.
"In the first place," the Count resumed, "be thoroughly convinced that if I refuse your offer, it is not through any motive of a personal nature as regards yourself. I have full confidence in you, for nearly 200 years your family has been attached to mine, and we have ever had reason to praise their devotion to our interest. This important point being settled, I will go on. I will suppose for a moment that the plan you have formed is successful, a plan which I will not discuss, although it appears to me very difficult to execute, and the slightest accident might, at the last moment, compromise its issue. What will happen? Forced to fly without resources, without friends, I should not only be unable to take the revenge I meditate upon my enemies, but surrendered, so to speak, to their mercy, I should speedily fall into their hands again, and thus become the laughing stock of those whom I hate. I should be dishonoured; they will despise me, and I shall have but one way of escape from a life henceforth rendered useless, as all my plans would be overthrown, and that is blowing out my brains."
"Oh! my lord!" Bouillot exclaimed, clasping his hands.
"I do not wish to fall," the Count continued imperturbably, "in the terrible struggle which has this day begun between my enemies and myself. I have taken an oath, and that oath I will keep, regardless of the consequences. I am young, hardly twenty-five years of age; up to the present, life has only been one long joy for me, and I have succeeded in everything, plans of ambition, fortune and love. Today misfortune has come to lay its hand on me, and it is welcome; for the man who has not suffered is not a perfect man; grief purifies the mind and tempers the heart. Solitude is a good councillor; it makes a man comprehend the nothingness of small things, expands the ideas, and prepares grand conceptions. I require to steel myself through sorrow, in order to be able one day to repay my enemies a hundredfold all that I have suffered at their hands. It is by thinking over my broken career and my ruined future, that I shall find the necessary strength to accomplish my vengeance. When my heart is dead to every other feeling but that of the hatred which will entirely occupy it, I shall be able pitilessly to trample underfoot all those who today laugh at me and believe they have crushed me, because they have hurled me down; and then I shall be really a man, and woe to those who try to measure their strength with mine. You tremble at what I am saying to you at this moment, my old servant," he added more gently, "what would it be were you able to read in my heart all the hatred, auger, and rage it contains against those who have mercilessly ground me beneath their heel, and who have eternally deprived me of happiness, in order to satisfy the paltry calculations of a narrow and criminal ambition?"
"Oh, my lord Count! Permit an old servant of your family, a man who is entirely devoted to you, to implore you to resign these fearful schemes of vengeance. Alas! You will be the first victim of your hatred."
"Have you forgotten, Bouillot," the Count replied ironically, "what is said in our country, about the members of the family to which I have the honor of belonging?"
"Yes, yes, my lord," he said with a melancholy shake of the head; "I remember it, and will repeat it if you wish."
"Do so."
"Well, my lord, the distich is as follows – "
"'The Counts of Barmont Senectaire, Demon-hate and heart of stone.'"
The