She left the dirty window from which she could see the formless heap which she knew to be Marche-a-Terre, and returned to the landlord, who was still standing in the attitude of a man who feels he has made a blunder, and does not know how to get out of it.The Chouan's gesture had petrified the poor fellow.No one in the West was ignorant of the cruel refinements of torture with which the "Chasseurs du Roi"punished those who were even suspected of indiscretion; the landlord felt their knives already at his throat.The cook looked with a shudder at the iron stove on which they often "warmed" ("chauffaient")the feet of those they suspected.The fat landlady held a knife in one hand and a half-peeled potato in the other, and gazed at her husband with a stupefied air.Even the scullion puzzled himself to know the reason of their speechless terror.Francine's curiosity was naturally excited by this silent scene, the principal actor of which was visible to all, though departed.The girl was gratified at the evident power of the Chouan, and though by nature too simple and humble for the tricks of a lady's maid, she was also far too anxious to penetrate the mystery not to profit by her advantages on this occasion.
"Mademoiselle accepts your proposal," she said to the landlord, who jumped as if suddenly awakened by her words.
"What proposal?" he asked with genuine surprise.
"What proposal?" asked Corentin, entering the kitchen.
"What proposal?" asked Mademoiselle de Verneuil, returning to it.
"What proposal?" asked a fourth individual on the lower step of the staircase, who now sprang lightly into the kitchen.
"Why, the breakfast with your persons of distinction," replied Francine, impatiently.
"Distinction!" said the ringing and ironical voice of the person who had just come down the stairway."My good fellow, that strikes me as a very poor inn joke; but if it's the company of this young female citizen that you want to give us, we should be fools to refuse it.In my mother's absence, I accept," he added, striking the astonished inn-keeper on the shoulder.
The charming heedlessness of youth disguised the haughty insolence of the words, which drew the attention of every one present to the new-comer.The landlord at once assumed the countenance of Pilate washing his hands of the blood of that just man; he slid back two steps to reach his wife's ear, and whispered, "You are witness, if any harm comes of it, that it is not my fault.But, anyhow," he added, in a voice that was lower still, "go and tell Monsieur Marche-a-Terre what has happened."The traveller, who was a young man of medium height, wore a dark blue coat and high black gaiters coming above the knee and over the breeches, which were also of blue cloth.This simple uniform, without epaulets, was that of the pupils of the Ecole Polytechnique.Beneath this plain attire Mademoiselle de Verneuil could distinguish at a glance the elegant shape and nameless /something/ that tells of natural nobility.The face of the young man, which was rather ordinary at first sight, soon attracted the eye by the conformation of certain features which revealed a soul capable of great things.A bronzed skin, curly fair hair, sparkling blue eyes, a delicate nose, motions full of ease, all disclosed a life guided by noble sentiments and trained to the habit of command.But the most characteristic signs of his nature were in the chin, which was dented like that of Bonaparte, and in the lower lip, which joined the upper one with a graceful curve, like that of an acanthus leaf on the capital of a Corinthian column.Nature had given to these two features of his face an irresistible charm.
"This young man has singular distinction if he is really a republican," thought Mademoiselle de Verneuil.
To see all this at a glance, to brighten at the thought of pleasing, to bend her head softly and smile coquettishly and cast a soft look able to revive a heart that was dead to love, to veil her long black eyes with lids whose curving lashes made shadows on her cheeks, to choose the melodious tones of her voice and give a penetrating charm to the formal words, "Monsieur, we are very much obliged to you,"--all this charming by-play took less time than it has taken to describe it.
After this, Mademoiselle de Verneuil, addressing the landlord, asked to be shown to a room, saw the staircase, and disappeared with Francine, leaving the stranger to discover whether her reply was intended as an acceptance or a refusal.
"Who is that woman?" asked the Polytechnique student, in an airy manner, of the landlord, who still stood motionless and bewildered.
"That's the female citizen Verneuil," replied Corentin, sharply, looking jealously at the questioner; "a /ci-devant/; what is she to you?"The stranger, who was humming a revolutionary tune, turned his head haughtily towards Corentin.The two young men looked at each other for a moment like cocks about to fight, and the glance they exchanged gave birth to a hatred which lasted forever.The blue eye of the young soldier was as frank and honest as the green eye of the other man was false and malicious; the manners of the one had native grandeur, those of the other were insinuating; one was eager in his advance, the other deprecating; one commanded respect, the other sought it.
"Is the citizen du Gua Saint-Cyr here?" said a peasant, entering the kitchen at that moment.
"What do you want of him?" said the young man, coming forward.
The peasant made a low bow and gave him a letter, which the young cadet read and threw into the fire; then he nodded his head and the man withdrew.
"No doubt you've come from Paris, citizen?" said Corentin, approaching the stranger with a certain ease of manner, and a pliant, affable air which seemed intolerable to the citizen du Gua.
"Yes," he replied, shortly.
"I suppose you have been graduated into some grade of the artillery?""No, citizen, into the navy."
"Ah! then you are going to Brest?" said Corentin, interrogatively.
