intercepted,
Monsieur de Crequy had felt but little anxiety for his uncle and cousin,
in comparison with what he did for many other friends of very different
opinions in politics, until the day when he was stunned by the fatal
information that even his progressive uncle was guillotined, and learnt
that his cousin was imprisoned by the licence of the mob, whose rights
(as she called them) she was always advocating.
"When I had heard all this story, I confess I lost in sympathy for
Clement what I gained for his mother. Virginie's life did not seem to me
worth the risk that Clement's would run. But when I saw him—sad,
depressed, nay, hopeless—going about like one oppressed by a heavy dream
which he cannot shake off; caring neither to eat, drink, nor sleep, yet
bearing all with silent dignity, and even trying to force a poor, faint
smile when he caught my anxious eyes; I turned round again, and wondered
how Madame de Crequy could resist this mute pleading of her son's altered
appearance. As for my Lord Ludlow and Monkshaven, as soon as they
understood the case, they were indignant that any mother should attempt
to keep a son out of honourable danger; and it was honourable, and a
clear duty (according to them) to try to save the life of a helpless
orphan girl, his next of kin. None but a Frenchman, said my lord, would
hold himself bound by an old woman's whimsies and fears, even though she
were his mother. As it was, he was chafing himself to death under the
restraint. If he went, to be sure, the wretches might make an end of
him, as they had done of many a fine fellow: but my lord would take heavy
odds, that, instead of being guillotined, he would save the girl, and
bring her safe to England, just desperately in love with her preserver,
and then we would have a jolly wedding down at Monkshaven. My lord
repeated his opinion so often that it became a certain prophecy in his
mind of what was to take place; and, one day seeing Clement look even
paler and thinner than he had ever done before, he sent a message to
Madame de Crequy, requesting permission to speak to her in private.
"'For, by George!' said he, 'she shall hear my opinion, and not let that
lad of hers kill himself by fretting. He's too good for that, if he had
been an English lad, he would have been off to his sweetheart long before
this, without saying with your leave or by your leave; but being a
Frenchman, he is all for AEneas and filial piety,—filial fiddle-sticks!'
(My lord had run away to sea, when a boy, against his father's consent, I
am sorry to say; and, as all had ended well, and he had come back to find
both his parents alive, I do not think he was ever as much aware of his
fault as he might have been under other circumstances.) 'No, my lady,'
he went on, 'don't come with me. A woman can manage a man best when he
has a fit of obstinacy, and a man can persuade a woman out of her
tantrums, when all her own sex, the whole army of them, would fail. Allow
me to go alone to my tete-a-tete with madame."
"What he said, what passed, he never could repeat; but he came back
graver than he went. However, the point was gained; Madame de Crequy
withdrew her prohibition, and had given him leave to tell Clement as
much.
"'But she is an old Cassandra,' said he. 'Don't let the lad be much with
her; her talk would destroy the courage of the bravest man; she is so
given over to superstition.' Something that she had said had touched a
chord in my lord's nature which he inherited from his Scotch ancestors.
Long afterwards, I heard what this was. Medlicott told me.
"However, my lord shook off all fancies that told against the fulfilment
of Clement's wishes. All that afternoon we three sat together, planning;
and Monkshaven passed in and out, executing our commissions, and
preparing everything. Towards nightfall all was ready for Clement's
start on his journey towards the coast.
"Madame had declined seeing any of us since my lord's stormy interview
with her. She sent word
Monsieur de Crequy had felt but little anxiety for his uncle and cousin,
in comparison with what he did for many other friends of very different
opinions in politics, until the day when he was stunned by the fatal
information that even his progressive uncle was guillotined, and learnt
that his cousin was imprisoned by the licence of the mob, whose rights
(as she called them) she was always advocating.
"When I had heard all this story, I confess I lost in sympathy for
Clement what I gained for his mother. Virginie's life did not seem to me
worth the risk that Clement's would run. But when I saw him—sad,
depressed, nay, hopeless—going about like one oppressed by a heavy dream
which he cannot shake off; caring neither to eat, drink, nor sleep, yet
bearing all with silent dignity, and even trying to force a poor, faint
smile when he caught my anxious eyes; I turned round again, and wondered
how Madame de Crequy could resist this mute pleading of her son's altered
appearance. As for my Lord Ludlow and Monkshaven, as soon as they
understood the case, they were indignant that any mother should attempt
to keep a son out of honourable danger; and it was honourable, and a
clear duty (according to them) to try to save the life of a helpless
orphan girl, his next of kin. None but a Frenchman, said my lord, would
hold himself bound by an old woman's whimsies and fears, even though she
were his mother. As it was, he was chafing himself to death under the
restraint. If he went, to be sure, the wretches might make an end of
him, as they had done of many a fine fellow: but my lord would take heavy
odds, that, instead of being guillotined, he would save the girl, and
bring her safe to England, just desperately in love with her preserver,
and then we would have a jolly wedding down at Monkshaven. My lord
repeated his opinion so often that it became a certain prophecy in his
mind of what was to take place; and, one day seeing Clement look even
paler and thinner than he had ever done before, he sent a message to
Madame de Crequy, requesting permission to speak to her in private.
"'For, by George!' said he, 'she shall hear my opinion, and not let that
lad of hers kill himself by fretting. He's too good for that, if he had
been an English lad, he would have been off to his sweetheart long before
this, without saying with your leave or by your leave; but being a
Frenchman, he is all for AEneas and filial piety,—filial fiddle-sticks!'
(My lord had run away to sea, when a boy, against his father's consent, I
am sorry to say; and, as all had ended well, and he had come back to find
both his parents alive, I do not think he was ever as much aware of his
fault as he might have been under other circumstances.) 'No, my lady,'
he went on, 'don't come with me. A woman can manage a man best when he
has a fit of obstinacy, and a man can persuade a woman out of her
tantrums, when all her own sex, the whole army of them, would fail. Allow
me to go alone to my tete-a-tete with madame."
"What he said, what passed, he never could repeat; but he came back
graver than he went. However, the point was gained; Madame de Crequy
withdrew her prohibition, and had given him leave to tell Clement as
much.
"'But she is an old Cassandra,' said he. 'Don't let the lad be much with
her; her talk would destroy the courage of the bravest man; she is so
given over to superstition.' Something that she had said had touched a
chord in my lord's nature which he inherited from his Scotch ancestors.
Long afterwards, I heard what this was. Medlicott told me.
"However, my lord shook off all fancies that told against the fulfilment
of Clement's wishes. All that afternoon we three sat together, planning;
and Monkshaven passed in and out, executing our commissions, and
preparing everything. Towards nightfall all was ready for Clement's
start on his journey towards the coast.
"Madame had declined seeing any of us since my lord's stormy interview
with her. She sent word
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