The Companions of Jehu

“Mother,” she said, “you gave me life and you have taken it from me; I bless you. It was a mother’s act. There was no happiness possible for your daughter in this life.”

Then, letting her other hand fall into that of Roland, who was kneeling on the other side of the bed, she said: “We have forgiven each other, brother?”

“Yes, dear Amélie,” he replied, “and from the depths of our hearts, I hope.”

“I have still one last request to make.”

“What is it?”

“Do not forget that Lord Tanlay has been my best friend.”

“Fear nothing,” said Roland; “Lord Tanlay’s life is sacred to me.”

Amélie drew a long breath; then in a voice which showed her growing weakness, she said: “Farewell, mother; farewell, Roland; kiss Edouard for me.”

Then with a cry from her soul, in which there was more of joy than sadness, she said: “Here I am, Charles, here I am!”

She fell back upon her bed, withdrawing her two hands as she did so, and clasping them upon her breast again.

Roland and his mother rose and leaned over her. She had resumed her first position, except that her eyelids were closed and her breath extinguished. Amélie’s martyrdom was over, she was dead.

CHAPTER LV. INVULNERABLE

Amélie died during the night of Monday and Tuesday, that is to say, the 2d and 3d of June. On the evening of Thursday, the 5th of June, the Grand Opera at Paris was crowded for the second presentation of “Ossian, or the Bards.”

The great admiration which the First Consul professed for the poems of Macpherson was universally known; consequently the National Academy, as much in flattery as from literary choice, had brought out an opera, which, in spite of all exertions, did not appear until a month after General Bonaparte had left Paris to join the Army of the Reserves.

In the balcony to the left sat a lover of music who was noticeable for the deep attention he paid to the performance. During the interval between the acts, the door-keeper came to him and said in a low voice:

“Pardon me, sir, are you Sir John Tanlay?”

“I am.”

“In that case, my lord, a gentleman has a message to give you; he says it is of the utmost importance, and asks if you will speak to him in the corridor.”

“Oh!” said Sir John, “is he an officer?”

“He is in civilian’s dress, but he looks like an officer.”

“Very good,” replied Sir John; “I know who he is.”

He rose and followed the woman. Roland was waiting in the corridor. Lord Tanlay showed no surprise on seeing him, but the stern look on the young man’s face repressed the first impulse of his deep affection, which was to fling himself upon his friend’s breast.

“Here I am, sir,” said Sir John.

Roland bowed.

“I have just come from your hotel,” he said. “You have, it seems, taken the precaution to inform the porter of your whereabout every time you have gone out, so that persons who have business with you should know where to find you.”

“That is true, sir.”

“The precaution is a good one, especially for those who, like myself, come from a long distance and are hurried and have no time to spare.”

“Then,” said Sir John, “was it to see me that you left the army and came to Paris?”

“Solely for that honor, sir; and I trust that you will guess my motives, and spare me the necessity of explaining them.”

“From this moment I am at your service, sir,” replied Sir John.

“At what hour to-morrow can two of my friends wait upon you?”

“From seven in the morning until midnight; unless you prefer that it should be now.”

“No, my lord; I have but just arrived, and I must have time to find my friends and give them my instructions. If it will not inconvenience you, they will probably call upon you to-morrow between ten and eleven. I shall be very much obliged to you if the affair we have to settle could be arranged for the same day.”

“I believe that will be possible, sir; as I understand it to be your wish, the delay will not be from my side.”

“That is all I wished to know, my lord; pray do not let me detain you longer.”

Roland bowed, and Sir John returned the salutation. Then the young man left the theatre and Sir John returned to his seat in the balcony. The words had been exchanged in such perfectly well modulated voices, and with such an impassible expression of countenance on both sides, that no one would have supposed that a quarrel had arisen between the two men who had just greeted each other so courteously.

It happened to be the reception day of the minister of war. Roland returned to his hotel, removed the traces of his journey, jumped into a carriage, and a little before ten he was announced in the salon of the citizen Carnot.

Two purposes took him there: in the first place, he had a verbal communication to make to the minister of war from the First Consul; in the second place, he hoped to find there the two witnesses he was in need of to arrange his meeting with Sir John.

Everything happened as Roland had hoped. He gave the minister of war all the details of the crossing of the Mont Saint-Bernard and the situation of the army; and he himself found the two friends of whom he was in search. A few words sufficed to let them know what he wished; soldiers are particularly open to such confidences.

Roland spoke of a grave insult, the nature of which must remain a secret even to his seconds. He declared that he was the offended party, and claimed the choice of weapons and mode of fighting – advantages which belong to the challenger.

The young fellows agreed to present themselves to Sir John the following morning at the Hôtel Mirabeau, Rue de Richelieu, at nine o’clock, and make the necessary arrangements with Sir John’s seconds. After that they would join Roland at the Hôtel de Paris in the same street.

Roland returned to his room at eleven that evening, wrote for about an hour, then went to bed and to sleep.

At half-past nine the next morning his friends came to him. They had just left Sir John. He admitted all Roland’s contentions; declared that he would not discuss any of the arrangements; adding that if Roland regarded himself as the injured party, it was for him to dictate the conditions. To their remark that they had hoped to discuss such matters with two of his friends and not with himself, he replied that he knew no one in Paris intimately enough to ask their assistance in such a matter, and that he hoped, once on the ground, that one of Roland’s seconds would consent to act in his behalf. The two officers were agreed that Lord Tanlay had conducted himself with the utmost punctiliousness in every respect.

Roland declared that Sir John’s request for the services of one of his two seconds was not only just but suitable, and he authorized either one of them to act for Sir John and to take charge of his interests. All that remained for Roland to do was to dictate his conditions. They were as follows!

Pistols were chosen. When loaded the adversaries were to stand at five paces. At the third clap of the seconds’ hands they were to fire. It was, as we see, a duel to the death, in which, if either survived, he would be at the mercy of his opponent. Consequently the young officers made many objections; but Roland insisted, declaring that he alone could judge of the gravity of the insult offered him, and that no other reparation than this would satisfy him. They were obliged to yield to such obstinacy. But the friend who was to act as Sir John’s second refused to bind himself for his principal, declaring that unless Sir John ordered it he would refuse to be a party to such a murder.

“Don’t excite yourself, dear friend,” said Roland, “I know Sir John, and I think he will be more accommodating than you.”

The seconds returned to Sir John; they found him at his English breakfast of beefsteak, potatoes and tea. On seeing them he rose, invited them to share his repast, and, on their refusing, placed himself at their disposal. They began by assuring him that he could count upon one of them to act as his second. The one acting for Roland announced the conditions. At each stipulation Sir John bowed his head in token of assent and merely replied: “Very good!”

The one who had taken charge of his interests attempted to make some objections to a form of combat that, unless something impossible to foresee occurred, must end in the death of both parties; but Lord Tanlay begged him to make no objections.

“M. de Montrevel is a gallant man,” he said; “I do not wish to thwart him in anything; whatever he does is right.”

It only remained to settle the hour and the place of meeting. On these points Sir John again placed himself at Roland’s disposal. The two seconds left even more delighted with him after this interview than they had been after the first. Roland was waiting for them and listened to what had taken place.