The Hero of the People: A Historical Romance of Love, Liberty and Loyalty. Dumas Alexandre
know as I am so, now; but – “
“But then do not boast of the crimes which the Parisians commit, since you are not a Parisian and did not do them.”
“I had so little hand in them that Farmer Billet and me were nigh slaughtered in taking the part of Lord Berthier – though he had famished the people.”
“Oh, my good, brave father! that is just like him,” said Catherine, excitedly.
“My worthy man,” said Mrs. Billet with tearful eyes. “What has he been about?”
Pitou related that the mob had seized Foulon and Berthier for being the active agents for higher personages in the great Grain Ring which held the corn from the poor, and torn them to pieces, though Billet and he had tried to defend them.
“The farmer was sickened and wanted to come home, but Dr. Gilbert would not let him.”
“Does he want my man to get killed there?” sobbed poor Mother Billet.
“Oh, no,” replied Pitou. “It is all fixed between master and the doctor. He is going to stay a little longer in town to finish up the revolution. Not alone, you understand, but with Mayor Bailly and General Lafayette.”
“Oh, I am not so much alarmed about him as long as in the gentlemen’s company,” said the good old soul with admiration.
“When does he think of returning?” inquired the daughter.
“I don’t know in the least.”
“Then, what have you come back for?”
“To bring Sebastian Gilbert to Father Fortier’s school, and you, Farmer Billet’s instructions.”
Pitou spoke like a herald, with so much dignity that the farmer’s wife dismissed all the gapers.
“Mrs. Billet,” began the messenger, “the master wants you to be worried as little as possible, so he thinks that while he is away, the management of the farm should be in other hands, younger and livelier.”
“Oh!”
“Yes, and he has selected Miss Catherine.”
“My daughter to rule in my house,” cried the woman, with distrust and inexpressible jealousy.
“Under your orders,” the girl hastened to say, while reddening.
“No, no,” persisted Pitou, who went on well since he was in full swing: “I bear the commission entire: Master Billet delegates and authorizes Miss Catherine to see to all the work and govern the house and household in his stead.”
As Billet was infallible in his wife’s eyes, all her resistance ceased instantly.
“Billet is right,” she declared after a glance at her daughter; “she is young but she has a good head, and she can even be headstrong. She can get along outdoors better than me; she knows how to make folks obey. But to be running about over field and hills will make a tomboy of her – “
“Fear nothing for her,” interposed Pitou with a consequential air; “I am here and I will go around with her.”
This gracious offer, by which Ange probably intended to make an effect, drew such a strange glance from Catherine that he was dumbfounded.
Pitou was not experienced in feminine ways but he guessed by her blush that she was not giving complete acquiescence, for he said with an agreeable smile which showed his strong teeth between the large lips:
“Even the Queen has a Lifeguard. Besides, I may be useful in the woods.”
“Is this also in my husband’s instructions?” queried Madam Billet who showed some tendency towards cutting sayings.
“Nay,” said Catherine, “that would be an idle errand and father would not have set it for Master Pitou while he would not have accepted it.”
Pitou rolled his frightened eyes from one to the other: all his castle in the air came tumbling down. A true woman, the younger one understood his painful disappointment.
“Did you see the girls in Paris with the young men tagging at their gown-tails?”
“But you are not a girl, after you become mistress of the house,” remonstrated Pitou.
“Enough chatter,” interrupted Mother Billet; “the mistress of the house has too much work to do. Come, Catherine, and let me turn over things to you, as your father bids us.”
As soon as the house was placed under the new ruler the servants and workmen were presented to her as the one from whom in the future orders would flow. Each departed with the alacrity shown by the new officials at the beginning of a fresh term.
“What about me?” inquired Pitou, left alone and going up to the girl.
“I have no orders for you. What do you think of doing?”
“What I did before I went away.”
“Then you worked for my father and mother. I have nothing in your line, for you are a scholar and a fine Paris gentleman now.”
“But look at the muscle in my arms,” protested the poor fellow in desperation. “Why do you force me to die of hunger under the pretence that I am a learned man? Are you ignorant that Epictetus the philosopher was a tavern waiter to earn his bread, and that Æsop the fabulist had to work for a living? and yet they were more learned than ever I shall be. But Master Billet sent me down here to help on the farm.”
“Be it so; but my father can force you to do things that I should shrink from imposing upon you.”
“Don’t shrink, and impose on me. You will see that I can stand anything. Besides you have books to keep and accounts to make out; and my strong point is figuring and ciphering.”
“I do not think it enough for a man,” rejoined Catherine.
“Am I good for nothing, then?” groaned Pitou.
“Well, live here a bit,” she said; “I will think it over and we shall see what turns up.”
“You want to think it over, about my staying. What have I done to you, Miss Catherine? you do not seem to be the same as before.”
Catherine shrugged her shoulders very slightly. She had no good reasons to fear Pitou and yet his persistency worried her.
“Enough of this,” she said, “I am going over to Fertemilon.”
“I will saddle a horse and go with you.”
“No; stay where you are.”
She spoke so imperiously that the peasant remained riveted to the spot, hanging his head.
“She thinks I am changed, but,” said he, “it is she who is another sort altogether.”
When he was roused by hearing the horse’s hoofs going away, he looked out and saw Catherine riding by a side path towards the highway.
It occurred to him that though she had forbid him to accompany her, she had not said he must not follow her.
He dashed out and took a short cut through the woods, where he was at home, till he reached the main road. But though he waited a half-hour, he saw nobody.
He thought she might have forgotten something at the farm and started back for it; and he returned by the highway. But on looking up a lane he spied her white cap at a distance.
Instead of going to Fertemilon, as she distinctly stated, she was proceeding to Boursonne.
He darted on in the same direction but by a parallel line.
It was no longer to follow her but to spy her.
She had spoken a falsehood. In what end?
He was answered by seeing her thrash her horse into the trot in order to rejoin a horseman who rode to meet her with as much eagerness as she showed on her part.
On coming nearer, as the pair halted at meeting, Pitou recognized by his elegant form and stylish dress the neighboring lord, Isidore Charny. He was brother of the