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

As for the petty accommodation at Haramont, how could he think of installing two – there were three – souls in two rooms; while if they were comfortable, it would set evil tongues wagging?

It was more out of the question than Clovis's hut.

So Pitou made up his mind to beg shelter for himself of Desire Maniquet. That worthy son of Haramont gave the hospitality which Pitou paid for in kind; but all this did not provide Catherine with a fixed habitation.

Pitou showed her all the attentions of a loving friend and the affection of a brother; but poor Catherine was well aware that he did not love her like friend or brother.

Little Isidore had something of the same idea; for the poor child, having never known the Viscount of Charny, loved him more perhaps, for Pitou was not merely the sweetheart of Catherine, but his slave.

A skillful strategist must have understood that the way to win Catherine's heart was through the help of the little one.

But we hasten to say that no such calculation tarnished the purity of Pitou's sentiments. He was just the simple fellow we met him at the first, unless, on becoming a man, he became simpler than ever.

All his good gifts touched Catherine. She saw that Pitou adored her ardently, to the point of fanaticism, and she caught herself wishing that she could repay so great a love and utter devotion with something better than friendship.

Gradually, by dint of dwelling on her isolation from all the world, Pitou excepted, and on her boy being left alone if she were to die, Pitou again excepted, she came to giving Pitou the only reward in her power – her hand.

Alas, her first love, that perfumed flower of youth, was in heaven!

For six months Catherine had been nourishing this conclusion without Pitou suspecting that the wind was blowing up in his favor, though her welcoming was a shade warmer and her parting a trifle more lingering each time; so she was forced to speak the first – but women take the lead in such matters.

One evening, instead of offering her hand, she held up her cheek for a kiss. Pitou thought she had forgot, and was too honest to take advantage of a mistake.

But Catherine had not let go his hand, and she drew him closer to her. Seeing him still hesitate, little Isidore joined in, saying:

"Why won't you kiss Mamma Catherine, Papa Pitou?"

"Good gracious!" gasped Pitou, turning pale as if about to die, but letting his cold and trembling lip touch her cheek.

Taking the boy up, she put him in Pitou's arms, and said:

"I give you the boy, Ange; will you have the mother?"

This time, it was too much for the swain, whose head swam; he shut his eyes, and while he hugged the child, he dropped on a chair, and panted with the delicacy which only a delicate heart could appreciate:

"Oh, Master Isidore, how very fond I am of you!"

Isidore called Pitou "Papa Pitou," but Pitou called him "Master Isidore."

That is why, as he felt that love for her son had made Catherine love Ange, he did not say:

"Oh, how dearly I love you, Catherine!"

This point settled that Pitou thought more of Isidore than of Catherine, they spoke of marriage.

"I don't want to seem in a hurry," said the man, "but if you mean to make me happy, do not be too long about it."

Catherine took a month.

At the end of three weeks Ange, in full regimentals, went respectfully to pay a visit to Aunt Angelique, with the aim to inform her of his near at hand union with Catherine Billet.

Seeing her nephew from afar, she hastened to shut her door. But he did not hold back from the inhospitable door whence he had once been expelled.

He rapped gently.

"Who is there?" snarled Angelique, in her sourest voice.

"I – your dutiful nephew, Ange Pitou."

"Go on your bloody way, you September man of massacre!" cried Aunt Angelique.

"Auntie, I come to tell you of a bit of news which can not fail to make you jolly, because it is my happiness."

"What is the news, you red-capped Jacobin?"

"I will tell you if you open the door."

"Say it through the door; I shall not open it to a breechless outlaw like you."

"If there is no other way, here you have it – I am going to get married."

The door flew open as by magic.

"Who are you going to marry, you wretched fellow?" asked the old spinster.

"Catherine Billet, please."

"Oh, the villain, the scamp, the regicide!" said the good soul; "he marries a ruined girl! Get you gone, scapegrace; I curse you!"

With a gesture quite noble, she held up her dry and yellow hands toward her nephew.

"Dear aunt," replied the young man, "you ought to know that I am too well hardened to your maledictions to care a fig for them. I only wanted to do the proper thing by inviting you to dance at my wedding; if you won't come, still I have asked you to shake a leg – "

"Shake a – fy, for shame!"

"Fare thee well, sweet Aunt Angelique!"

Touching his cocked hat in the military manner, Pitou made a salute to his relative and hurried away.

CHAPTER XXX.

THE EFFECT OF HAPPY NEWS

Pitou had to tell his intended marriage to Mayor Longpre, who lived hard by. Less set against the Billet family than Aunt 'Gelique, he congratulated Pitou on the match.

Pitou listened to his praise without seeing where he was doing very much of a noble action.

By the way, as a pure Republican, Pitou was delighted to find that the Republic had done away with the publication of the banns and other ecclesiastical trammels which had always galled true lovers.