district, promptly evacuated Digue because
they were not certain of the loyalty of the garrison. The Corsican it
seems only landed with about a thousand of his old guard, but since
then, the troops in every district which he has traversed, have deserted
in a body, and rallied round his standard. It has been, so I hear, a
triumphal march for him from the Littoral to Digne, and altogether the
news which the courier brought me this morning was of such alarming
nature, that I thought it my duty, M. le Comte, to apprise you of it
immediately."
"That," said M. le Comte condescendingly, "was exceedingly thoughtful
and considerate, my good M. Fourier. And what is the alarming news?"
"Firstly, that Bonaparte made something like a state entry into Digne
yesterday. The city was beflagged and decorated. The national guard
turned out and presented arms, drums were beating, the population
acclaimed him with cries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' The préfet and the
general in command had intended to resist his entry into the [Pg 89] city, but
all the notabilities of the town forced them into submission. Duval, the
préfet, fled to a neighbouring village, taking the public funds with
him, while General Loverdo with a mere handful of loyal troops has
retreated on Sisteron."
Though M. le Comte de Cambray had listened to the préfet's narrative
with all his habitual grandeur of mien, it soon became obvious that some
of his aristocratic sangfroid had already abandoned him. His furrowed
cheeks had become a shade paler than usual, and the slender hand which
toyed with an ivory paper-knife on his desk had not its wonted
steadiness. Mme. la Duchesse perceived this, no doubt, for her keen eyes
were fixed scrutinisingly upon her brother; she saw too that his thin
lips were quivering and that the reason why he made no comment on what
he had just heard was because he could not quite trust himself to speak.
It was she, therefore, who now remarked quietly:
"And in your department, M. le préfet, in Grenoble itself, is the
garrison equally likely to go over to the Corsican brigand?"
M. Fourier shrugged his shoulders. He was not at all sure.
"After what has happened at Digne, Mme. la Duchesse," he said, "I would
not care to prophesy. Général Marchand does not intend to trust entirely
to the garrison. He has sent to Vienne and to Chambéry for
reinforcements . . . but . . ."
The préfet was hesitating, evidently he had not a great deal of faith in
the loyalty of those reinforcements either.
M. le Comte made a vigorous protest. "Surely, M. Fourier," he said, "you
don't mean to suggest that Grenoble is going to turn traitor to the
King?"
But M. le préfet apparently had meant to suggest it.
"Alas, M. le Comte!" he said, "we must always bear [Pg 90] in mind that the
whole of the Dauphiné has remained throughout a bed of Bonapartism."
"But in that case . . ." ejaculated the Comte.
"Général Marchand is doing all he can to ensure effectual resistance, M.
le Comte. But we are in the hands of the army, and the army has never
been truly loyal to the King. At the bottom of every soldier's haversack
there is an old and worn tricolour cockade, which is there ready to be
fetched out at a moment's notice, and will be fetched out at the mere
sound of the Corsican's voice. We are in the hands of the army, M. le
Comte, and in the Dauphiné; alas! the army is only too ready to cry:
'Vive l'Empereur!'"
There was silence in the stately room now, silence only broken by the
tap-tap of the ivory paper-knife with which M. le Comte was still
nervously fidgeting. M. Fourier was wiping the perspiration from his
overheated brow.
"For God's sake, André, stop that irritating noise," said Mme. Duchesse
after awhile, "that tapping has got on my nerves."
"I beg your pardon, Sophie," said the Comte loftily.
He was offended with her for drawing M. Fourier's attention to his own
nervous restlessness, yet grateful to be thus forcibly made aware of it
himself. His attitude was
they were not certain of the loyalty of the garrison. The Corsican it
seems only landed with about a thousand of his old guard, but since
then, the troops in every district which he has traversed, have deserted
in a body, and rallied round his standard. It has been, so I hear, a
triumphal march for him from the Littoral to Digne, and altogether the
news which the courier brought me this morning was of such alarming
nature, that I thought it my duty, M. le Comte, to apprise you of it
immediately."
"That," said M. le Comte condescendingly, "was exceedingly thoughtful
and considerate, my good M. Fourier. And what is the alarming news?"
"Firstly, that Bonaparte made something like a state entry into Digne
yesterday. The city was beflagged and decorated. The national guard
turned out and presented arms, drums were beating, the population
acclaimed him with cries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' The préfet and the
general in command had intended to resist his entry into the [Pg 89] city, but
all the notabilities of the town forced them into submission. Duval, the
préfet, fled to a neighbouring village, taking the public funds with
him, while General Loverdo with a mere handful of loyal troops has
retreated on Sisteron."
Though M. le Comte de Cambray had listened to the préfet's narrative
with all his habitual grandeur of mien, it soon became obvious that some
of his aristocratic sangfroid had already abandoned him. His furrowed
cheeks had become a shade paler than usual, and the slender hand which
toyed with an ivory paper-knife on his desk had not its wonted
steadiness. Mme. la Duchesse perceived this, no doubt, for her keen eyes
were fixed scrutinisingly upon her brother; she saw too that his thin
lips were quivering and that the reason why he made no comment on what
he had just heard was because he could not quite trust himself to speak.
It was she, therefore, who now remarked quietly:
"And in your department, M. le préfet, in Grenoble itself, is the
garrison equally likely to go over to the Corsican brigand?"
M. Fourier shrugged his shoulders. He was not at all sure.
"After what has happened at Digne, Mme. la Duchesse," he said, "I would
not care to prophesy. Général Marchand does not intend to trust entirely
to the garrison. He has sent to Vienne and to Chambéry for
reinforcements . . . but . . ."
The préfet was hesitating, evidently he had not a great deal of faith in
the loyalty of those reinforcements either.
M. le Comte made a vigorous protest. "Surely, M. Fourier," he said, "you
don't mean to suggest that Grenoble is going to turn traitor to the
King?"
But M. le préfet apparently had meant to suggest it.
"Alas, M. le Comte!" he said, "we must always bear [Pg 90] in mind that the
whole of the Dauphiné has remained throughout a bed of Bonapartism."
"But in that case . . ." ejaculated the Comte.
"Général Marchand is doing all he can to ensure effectual resistance, M.
le Comte. But we are in the hands of the army, and the army has never
been truly loyal to the King. At the bottom of every soldier's haversack
there is an old and worn tricolour cockade, which is there ready to be
fetched out at a moment's notice, and will be fetched out at the mere
sound of the Corsican's voice. We are in the hands of the army, M. le
Comte, and in the Dauphiné; alas! the army is only too ready to cry:
'Vive l'Empereur!'"
There was silence in the stately room now, silence only broken by the
tap-tap of the ivory paper-knife with which M. le Comte was still
nervously fidgeting. M. Fourier was wiping the perspiration from his
overheated brow.
"For God's sake, André, stop that irritating noise," said Mme. Duchesse
after awhile, "that tapping has got on my nerves."
"I beg your pardon, Sophie," said the Comte loftily.
He was offended with her for drawing M. Fourier's attention to his own
nervous restlessness, yet grateful to be thus forcibly made aware of it
himself. His attitude was
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