Le Chapelier, that lawyer of Rennes who, having begun by being amongst André-Louis's most active enemies, had ended by being in many respects his closest friend, the protector whose encouragement and sponsorship had resulted in his election to the National Assembly. To meet this distinguished revolutionary, who once had occupied the Assembly's presidential chair, lurking here in a by-street of Coblentz in obvious fear of detection was the last thing that André-Louis could have expected. When he had conquered his astonishment, he was moved to laughter.
'On my life, yours is an odd way to greet an old friend, Isaac! Half a yard of steel in my entrails, eh?' On a sudden thought he asked: 'Have you come after me by any chance?'
Le Chapelier's answer was scornful. 'After you? My God! You think yourself of consequence if you suppose that a member of the Assembly is sent to fetch you back.'
'I did not ask you were you sent. I wondered if you had come out of the love you bear me, or some such weakness. If that is not what brings you to Coblentz, what does? And why are you afraid of recognition? Are you spying here, Isaac?'
'Better and better,' said the deputy. 'Your wits, my dear, have grown rusty since you left us. However, here I am; and a word from you can destroy me. What are you going to do?'
'You disgust me,' said André-Louis. 'Here. Take your sword. You conceive that friendship carries no obligations. Take your sword, I say. There are people coming. We shall attract attention.'
The deputy took the proffered weapon, and sheathed it. 'I have learnt,' he said,' to mistrust even friendship in political matters.'
'Not from me. Our relations never taught you that lesson.'
'Since you are here, I must suppose that you have turned your coat again; that you've returned to the fold of privilege. That will have its duties. It is what I realized the moment I set eyes on you. That is why I should have preferred to avoid you.'
'Let us walk,' said André-Louis, and taking Le Chapelier by the arm, he persuaded him along the way he had been going before his progress was interrupted.
The deputy, reassured by now that he had no betrayal to fear from this man with whom for years he had been so closely associated, allowed himself to talk freely. He was in Coblentz on a mission from the National Assembly to the Elector of Trèves. The Assembly viewed with the gravest concern this massing of émigré forces, and this sheltering of émigré intriguers and counter-revolutionary plotters in these limitrophe provinces. Roused to action by the same influences which in the people had produced the events of the 10th of August, the Assembly had despatched the Deputy Le Chapelier to inform the Elector that France must regard this state of things as an act of calculated hostility, of which, should it continue, the Nation must signify its resentment.
'I may appear to be a little late,' Le Chapelier concluded, 'since already the émigrés may be said to be quitting Coblentz and the armies are on the march; but I am still in time to contrive that their retreat shall be cut off, and that they shall not return here to resume their activities. I am frank with you, André, because I care not how widely known may be the attitude of the Assembly. The only secrecy I ask of you is on the subject of my presence. Your friends of the party of privilege can be murderously vindictive. I must remain a day or two yet, because I am to see the Elector again when he has considered his position. Meanwhile, there is no profit in denouncing me to the French nobles here.'
'Profit or not, the recommendation is almost an impertinence.' With this André-Louis changed the subject to inquire what was known and said of his own flight from Paris.
Le Chapelier shrugged. 'It is not yet understood. When it is, you will have ruined yourself: for Mademoiselle de Kercadiou, I suppose.'
'For her and others.'
'Quintin de Kercadiou has been proscribed as an émigré, his possessions confiscated. So has Monsieur de Plougastel. Why you should have taken his wife under your wing in your flight, Heaven alone knows. Have they made you welcome here, at least?'
'Without excessive warmth,' said André-Louis.
'Ah! And now what do you do? Do you join this army of invasion?'
'It has been signified to me that my views, which are merely monarchist, preclude my serving in an army that is to fight in the cause of privilege.'
'Then why remain?'
'To pray for victory. My fortunes are bound up with it.'
'Fool, André! Your fortunes are bound up with us. Come back with me before it is too late. The Assembly thinks too well of you, remembers too well your services, not to take a lenient view, not to accept whatever explanation we concoct. Your return to your place will be easy if you are well supported, and you can count upon my support which is not negligible.'
It was not, indeed. Le Chapelier in those days was a considerable power in the Assembly. He was the author of that law which bears his name and which reveals the clarity of view and purity of motives of the architects of the constitution. Mirabeau, in the hour of need, as a measure of resistance to the abuse of privilege, had shown the workers the power of the strike.
'To render yourselves formidable,' he had told them, 'you need but to become immobile.'
Le Chapelier, when once privilege had been swept away, perceived the danger to the State of that new-found power of one of its classes. The statute for which he was responsible forbade any federation of workers for purposes of exactions, on the ground that the Nation had not abolished despotism in the palace to make way for despotism in the gutter.
His ægis, therefore, was not an ægis to be despised. Nor did André-Louis despise it, although he shook his head.
'You have a trick of turning up at moments of crisis, Isaac, and pointing the way to me. But this time I do not follow it. I am committed.'
They were now in a narrow street behind the Liebfraukirche. The dusk had deepened almost into night. From an open doorway a shaft of light fell athwart the moist, gleaming kidney stones with which the street was paved. Le Chapelier came to a halt.
'It is, then, it seems, but ave atque vale. We have met, then, but to part again. I am lodged here.'
A woman of broad untidy shape loomed in the doorway, and seeing who came surveyed both him and his companion as they stood revealed in the light.
'I am lucky to leave you with my entrails whole,' André mocked him. 'May you prosper, Isaac, until we meet again.'
They shook hands. Le Chapelier went in. The door was closed by the woman, who muttered a greeting to her lodger, and André-Louis set out to return to the Three Crowns.
CHAPTER V
THE RESCUE
The afternoon of the following day saw André-Louis at Schönbornlust, drawn thither by Aline as by a magnet. But this time, when he presented himself, the gentleman usher who had passed him into the presence on the two former occasions affected not to know him. He inquired his name and sought it in a list he held of those who had the entrée. He announced that it was not there. Could he serve Monsieur Moreau? Whom particularly did Monsieur Moreau seek? There was a sly insolence in his manner that stung André-Louis. He perceived in it that, like half these courtiers, the fellow had the soul of a lackey. But he dissembled his vexation, pretended not to observe the nudges, glances, and smiles of those others who, like himself now, must not aspire beyond the antechamber, and who were enjoying the rebuff of one who had so confidently gone forward.
He desired, he announced after a moment's thought, a word with Madame de Plougastel. The gentleman usher beckoned a page, a pert lad in white satin, and despatched him to bear the name of Monsieur Moreau—Moreau, was it not?—to Madame la Comtesse de Plougastel. The page looked at Monsieur Moreau as if he were a tradesman who had come to collect a bill, and vanished beyond the sacred portal which was guarded by two officers in gold-laced scarlet coats, white waistcoats, and blue breeches.