The Countess of Charny; or, The Execution of King Louis XVI

"Will you go with me, Billet?" asked the doctor.

"Will you forgive me?" asked Billet.

The two clasped hands.

"You must go at once. The ship 'Franklin' is ready to sail."

"But my son?"

Cagliostro had opened the door.

"Come in, Sebastian," he said; "your father calls you."

The young man rushed into his father's arms, while Billet sighed.

"My carriage is at the door," said Cagliostro. Then, in a whisper to the doctor while Billet was asking news of the youth, he said, emphatically:

"Take him away; he must not know how he lost his mother. He might thirst for revenge."

Gilbert nodded and opened a money drawer.

"Fill your pockets," he said to Billet.

"Will there be enough in a strange country?" he asked.

"Bless you! with land at five dollars an acre, cleared, we can buy a county. But what are you looking round for?"

"For what would be no use to me, who can not write."

"I see; you want to send good-bye to Pitou. Let me."

"What have you written?"

"My dear Pitou, – We are leaving France – Billet, Sebastian, and I – and send you our united love. We think that as you are manager of Billet's farm, you do not need anything. One of these days we may write for you to come over and join us.

    "Your friend,
    "Gilbert."

"Is that all?" asked the farmer.

"There is a postscript," said the writer, looking the farmer in the face as he said:

"Billet hopes you will take the best of care of Catherine."

Billet uttered a cry of gratitude and shook Gilbert's hand again.

Ten minutes afterward, the post-chaise carried far from Paris Gilbert and his friend and the son of Andrea of Charny.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE CROWN OF ANGE'S LOVE

A little over a year after the execution of the king and the departure of Gilbert, his son, and Billet, on a fine, cold morning of the hard winter of 1794, three or four hundred persons – that is, a sixth of the population of Villers Cotterets – waited on the square before the manor-house and in the mayor's yard for the coming out of two married folks whom Mayor Longpre was uniting in the holy bonds. These were Ange Pitou and Catherine Billet.

Alas! it had taken many grave events to bring the flame of Viscount Charny, the mother of little Isidore, to become Mistress Pitou.

Everybody was chattering over these events; but in whatever manner they related and discussed them, there was always something to the greater glory of the devotion of Ange Pitou and the good behavior of Billet's daughter.

Only, the more interesting the couple were, the more they were pitied.

Perhaps they were happier than any in the crowd; but human nature is inclined that way – it must pity or applaud!

On this occasion it was in the compassionate vein.

Indeed, what Cagliostro had foreseen, had come on rapidly, leaving a long track of blood after it.

On the 1st of February, 1793, the issue of more paper money was agreed. In March, the fugitive nobles were perpetually banished and their property confiscated. In November, a new kind of religion was proposed instead of the established church.

The result of the confiscation decree was, that Billet and Gilbert being considered fugitives, their lands were seized for the public good. The same fate befell the estates of the Charnys, the count having been killed and the countess murdered in prison.

The consequence to Catherine was that she was turned out of Billet's farm, which was national property. Pitou wanted to protest, but Pitou was a moderate and a "suspect," and wise souls advised him not to oppose the orders of the nation in will or deed.

So Catherine and Pitou had gone over to Haramont.

She had thought of taking refuge in Daddy Clovis's lodge, but he appeared at the door to lay his finger on his lips and shake his head in token of impossibility; the place was already occupied.

The law on the banishment of refractory priests was still in force, and it is easy to understand that Father Fortier had banished himself, as he would not take the oath. But he had not felt like passing the frontier, and his exile was limited to his leaving his house in charge of his sister, to see the furniture was not stolen, and asking Clovis for shelter, which was granted.

This retreat was only a cave, and it would with difficulty hold, in addition to the corpulent priest, Catherine, little Isidore, and Pitou.

Besides, we recall the refusal of the priest to bury Mrs. Billet. Catherine was not good Christian enough to overlook the unkindness, and had she been so, the Abbe Fortier was too good a Catholic to forgive her.

So they had to give up the idea of staying with old Clovis.

This choice lay between Aunt Angelique's house and Pitou's lodgings at Haramont.

They dared not think of the former. As the revolution had followed its course, Angelique had become more and more diabolic, which seems incredible, and thinner, which seems impossible.

This change in her temper and her physique arose from the fact that the churches were closed at Villers as elsewhere, awaiting the invention of a reasonable and civic cult, according to the Board of Public Instruction. The churches being shut, Aunt Angelique's principal revenue, from letting seats, fell into disuse.

It was the drying up of her income which made her Tartar – we beg pardon, tarter and bonier than ever.

Let us add that she had so often heard the story of Pitou and Billet capturing the Bastile, and had so often seen them start off for Paris whenever any great event was to take place, that she did not in the least doubt that the French Revolution was led by Ange Pitou and Farmer Billet, with Citizens Danton, Marat, Robespierre & Co., playing the secondary parts.

The priest's sister fostered her in these somewhat erroneous opinions, to which the regicidal vote of Billet had given the seal on heated fanaticism.

Pitou ought not to think of placing the regicide's daughter under Angelique's roof.