brother and sister
the executioners, who might have been thought weary, were only drunk. even as the sight of wine seemingly gives strength to a drunkard, so does the sight of blood revive the forces of the assassin. all these cut-throats, who were lying in the courtyard half asleep, opened their eyes and jumped to their feet at the name of fargas.
he, far from being dead, had received only some slight wounds. but when he found himself in the presence of[pg 432] these fiends, believing his death to be inevitable, and having but the one idea of making it as swift and painless as possible, he threw himself upon the man who was nearest to him, and bit him so savagely in the cheek that the man thought of nothing but putting an end to the horrible pain. he instinctively thrust out his hand, and his knife, coming in contact with the count's breast, was buried into it up to the hilt. the count fell dead without a cry.
then they did to his corpse what they had been cheated of doing with the living man. each man flung himself upon it, struggling to secure a bit of his flesh. when men reach such a point there is little difference between them and the south sea islanders who live on human flesh.
they lighted a pile of wood and threw fargas's body upon it; and as if no new god or goddess could be glorified without human sacrifice, the liberty of the pontifical city had on the same day its patriot martyr in the person of lescuyer and its royalist martyr in fargas.
while these things were taking place at avignon, the two children, ignorant of these dire events, were living in a little house which was called the three cypresses, because of three trees which stood in front of it. their father had gone in the morning to avignon, as he often did, and he had been stopped at one of the gates as he was on his way back to them.
the first night passed without occasioning them much uneasiness. as he had a house in the city as well as one in the country, the comte de fargas often stopped a day or two at avignon, for business, it might be, or for pleasure.
lucien preferred to live in the country, of which he was very fond. he and his sister were alone there except for the cook and one other servant. he was passionately attached to diane, who was three years younger than himself. she returned his affection with the ardor of southern natures, which can neither love nor hate by halves.
the young people were brought up together and were never parted. although of different sexes they had had[pg 433] the same masters and had pursued the same studies; with the result that at ten diane showed slight resemblances to a boy, and lucien at thirteen gave evidence of girlish traits.
as their country-seat was not more than two miles distant from avignon, the tradesfolk brought them word on the second day of the murders which had been committed. the two children were much alarmed on their father's account. lucien gave orders to saddle his horse; but diane would not let him go alone. she had a horse like her brother's and was quite as good an equestrian as he; she therefore saddled her horse herself, and they set off at a gallop for the city.
they had only just arrived and had begun to make inquiries, when they learned that their father had been arrested and hurried to the papal palace, where a tribunal was sitting in justice upon the royalists. as soon as they heard this, diane set off at a sharp gallop and hastened up the slope that led to the old fortress. lucien followed her at a short distance. they reached the courtyard almost at the same time, and perceived the smoking remnants of the fagots which had consumed their father's body. several of the assassins recognized them and cried out: "death to the wolf's cubs!"
at the same time they endeavored to seize their bridles in order to force the orphans to dismount. one of the men who had carried his hand to the bridle of diane's horse received a stinging blow across the face from her riding-whip. this was only an act of legitimate defence, but it exasperated the assassins, who redoubled their cries and threats. but just then jourdan coupe-tête came forward. whether from satiety or from a tardy sense of justice a ray of humanity shone in upon his heart.
"yesterday," he said, "in the heat of the struggle and the desire for vengeance, we may possibly have mistaken the innocent for the guilty; but to-day we cannot permit such an error. the comte de fargas was guilty of insulting france and of murdering human beings. he hung the[pg 434] national colors on an infamous gibbet and he incited the murder of lescuyer. the comte de fargas deserved death and you meted it out to him. it is well. france and humanity are avenged! but his children have never participated in an act of barbarity or injustice, and they are innocent. let them go in peace therefore, that they may not be able to say of the patriots, as we can say of the royalists, that we are assassins."
diane did not wish to flee, and to her mind to go without wreaking vengeance was equivalent to fleeing; but she and her brother could do nothing by themselves. lucien took the bridle of her horse and led her away.
when the two orphans reached home they burst into tears and threw themselves into each other's arms; they had no one left in the world to love except themselves.
their mutual love was a holy and fraternal thing to see. thus they grew up together until lucien was twenty-one and diane eighteen.
the thermidorean reaction occurred at this time. their name was a pledge of their political creed. they went to no one; but others sought them out. lucien listened coldly to the propositions which were made to him, and demanded time for reflection. diane seized upon them eagerly, and signified that she would undertake to convince her brother. indeed, no sooner were they alone than she confronted him with the great question "noblesse oblige."
lucien had been educated as a royalist and a christian. he had to avenge his father, and his sister exerted great influence over him. he therefore gave his word. from that moment, that is to say toward the end of 1796, he became a member of the company of jehu, called du midi.
we know the rest.
it would be difficult to describe the violence of diane's emotions from the time of her brother's arrest until he was transferred to the department of the ain. she then took all the money of which she could dispose and started in a post-chaise for nantua.
[pg 435]
we know that she arrived too late, and that at nantua she learned of her brother's abduction and the burning of the registry, and that, thanks to the judge's acumen, she was made cognizant of the motive of the two exploits. she reached the h?tel des grottes de ceyzeriat that same day about noon, and upon her arrival she hastened at once to present herself at the prefecture, where she related what had occurred at nantua, which was still unknown at bourg.
this was by no means the first time that word of the prowess of the companions of jehu had reached the prefect's ear.
bourg was a royalist town. most of its inhabitants sympathized with the young outlaws. frequently, when giving orders that one of their number be watched or arrested, the prefect had been conscious of an invisible net, drawing around him, and although he could not see clearly, he felt the source of some hidden resistance which paralyzed his authority. but this time the accusation was definite and precise; armed men had taken their accomplice by force from prison; they had, again by force, compelled the registry clerk to give them the paper which compromised the names of four of their accomplices in the midi. these men, finally, had been seen on their way to bourg, after the perpetration of their double crime.
he summoned the commander of the gendarmerie, the president of the court, and the police commissioner to appear before himself and diane; he made diane repeat her exhaustive accusation against these formidable unknown persons; he declared that within three days he proposed to have definite information; and he asked diane to spend those three days at bourg. diane divined how great an interest the prefect would necessarily take in the apprehension of those whom she was seeking. she returned at nightfall to the hotel, worn out with fatigue, and dying of hunger, for she had scarcely eaten anything since she had left avignon.
she supped and retired, sleeping that deep sleep of youth which conquers grief.
[pg 436]
the next morning a great uproar beneath her windows aroused her. she rose and peered through her blinds, but she could discern naught save an immense crowd surging in every direction; but something in the nature of a presentiment told her that a fresh trial awaited her.
she put on her dressing-gown, and without waiting to smooth her hair, which had become disordered during her slumber, she opened the casement and looked over the balcony.
but no sooner had she cast a glance at the street, than she rushed from her room with a loud cry, darted down the stairs, and threw herself, mad with grief, dishevelled and ghastly pale, upon the body which was lying in the centre of the group, crying: "my brother! my brother!"
