The Companions of Jehu. Dumas Alexandre
that he should be kept outside the house that he might not see him arrive.”
“He thinks he is to take your master?”
“Yes, Monsieur the Baron. Here is my master’s passport, which we used to get the post-horses, and as my master has gone in the direction of Bordeaux with Monsieur the Baron’s passport, and as Monsieur the Baron goes toward Geneva with my master’s passport, the skein will probably be so tangled that the police, clever as their fingers are, can’t easily unravel it.”
“Unfasten the valise that is on the croup of my saddle, Baptiste, and give it to me.”
Baptiste obeyed dutifully, but the valise almost slipped from his hands. “Ah!” said he laughing, “Monsieur the Baron did not warn me! The devil! Monsieur the Baron has not wasted his time it seems.”
“Just where you’re mistaken, Baptiste! if I didn’t waste all my time, I at least lost a good deal, so I should like to be off again as soon as possible.”
“But Monsieur the Baron will breakfast?”
“I’ll eat a bite, but quickly.”
“Monsieur will not be delayed. It is now two, and breakfast has been ready since ten this morning. Luckily it’s a cold breakfast.”
And Baptiste, in the absence of his master, did the honors of the house to the visitor by showing him the way to the dining-room.
“Not necessary,” said the visitor, “I know the way. Do you see to the carriage; let it be close to the house with the door wide open when I come out, so that the postilion can’t see me. Here’s the money to pay him for the first relay.”
And the stranger whom Baptiste had addressed as Baron handed him a handful of notes.
“Why, Monsieur,” said the servant, “you have given me enough to pay all the way to Lyons!”
“Pay him as far as Valence, under pretext that I want to sleep, and keep the rest for your trouble in settling the accounts.”
“Shall I put the valise in the carriage-box?”
“I will do so myself.”
And taking the valise from the servant’s hands, without letting it be seen that it weighed heavily, he turned toward the dining-room, while Baptiste made his way toward the nearest inn, sorting his notes as he went.
As the stranger had said, the way was familiar to him, for he passed down a corridor, opened a first door without hesitation, then a second, and found himself before a table elegantly served. A cold fowl, two partridges, a ham, several kinds of cheese, a dessert of magnificent fruit, and two decanters, the one containing a ruby-colored wine, and the other a yellow-topaz, made a breakfast which, though evidently intended for but one person, as only one place was set, might in case of need have sufficed for three or four.
The young man’s first act on entering the dining-room was to go straight to a mirror, remove his hat, arrange his hair with a little comb which he took from his pocket; after which he went to a porcelain basin with a reservoir above it, took a towel which was there for the purpose, and bathed his face and hands. Not until these ablutions were completed – characteristic of a man of elegant habits – not until these ablutions had been minutely performed did the stranger sit down to the table.
A few minutes sufficed to satisfy his appetite, to which youth and fatigue had, however, given magnificent proportions; and when Baptiste came in to inform the solitary guest that the carriage was ready he found him already afoot and waiting.
The stranger drew his hat low over his eyes, wrapped his coat about him, took the valise under his arm, and, as Baptiste had taken pains to lower the carriage-steps as close as possible to the door, he sprang into the post-chaise without being seen by the postilion. Baptiste slammed the door after him; then, addressing the man in the top-boots:
“Everything is paid to Valence, isn’t it, relays and fees?” he asked.
“Everything; do you want a receipt?” replied the postilion, jokingly.
“No; but my master, the Marquise de Ribier, don’t want to be disturbed until he gets to Valence.”
“All right,” replied the postilion, in the same bantering tone, “the citizen Marquis shan’t be disturbed. Forward, hoop-la!” And he started his horses, and cracked his whip with that noisy eloquence which says to neighbors and passers-by: “‘Ware here, ‘ware there! I am driving a man who pays well and who has the right to run over others.”
Once in the carriage the pretended Marquis of Ribier opened the window, lowered the blinds, raised the seat, put his valise in the hollow, sat down on it, wrapped himself in his cloak, and, certain of not being disturbed till he reached Valence, slept as he had breakfasted, that is to say, with all the appetite of youth.
They went from Orange to Valence in eight hours. Our traveller awakened shortly before entering the city. Raising one of the blinds cautiously, he recognized the little suburb of Paillasse. It was dark, so he struck his repeater and found it was eleven at night. Thinking it useless to go to sleep again, he added up the cost of the relays to Lyons and counted out the money. As the postilion at Valence passed the comrade who replaced him, the traveller heard him say:
“It seems he’s a ci-devant; but he was recommended from Orange, and, as he pays twenty sous fees, you must treat him as you would a patriot.”
“Very well,” replied the other; “he shall be driven accordingly.”
The traveller thought the time had come to intervene. He raised the blind and said:
“And you’ll only be doing me justice. A patriot? Deuce take it! I pride myself upon being one, and of the first calibre, too! And the proof is – Drink this to the health of the Republic.” And he handed a hundred-franc assignat to the postilion who had recommended him to his comrade. Seeing the other looking eagerly at this strip of paper, he continued: “And the same to you if you will repeat the recommendation you’ve just received to the others.”
“Oh! don’t worry, citizen,” said the postilion; “there’ll be but one order to Lyons – full speed!”
“And here is the money for the sixteen posts, including the double post of entrance in advance. I pay twenty sous fees. Settle it among yourselves.”
The postilion dug his spurs into his horse and they were off at a gallop. The carriage relayed at Lyons about four in the afternoon. While the horses were being changed, a man clad like a porter, sitting with his stretcher beside him on a stone post, rose, came to the carriage and said something in a low tone to the young Companion of Jehu which seemed to astonish the latter greatly.
“Are you quite sure?” he asked the porter.
“I tell you that I saw him with my own eyes!” replied the latter.
“Then I can give the news to our friends as a positive fact?”
“You can. Only hurry.”
“Have they been notified at Servas?”
“Yes; you will find a horse ready between Servas and Sue.”
The postilion came up; the young man exchanged a last glance with the porter, who walked away as if charged with a letter of the utmost importance.
“What road, citizen?” asked the postilion.
“To Bourg. I must reach Servas by nine this evening; I pay thirty sous fees.”
“Forty-two miles in five hours! That’s tough. Well, after all, it can be done.”
“Will you do it.”
“We can try.”
And the postilion started at full gallop. Nine o’clock was striking as they entered Servas.
“A crown of six livres if you’ll drive me half-way to Sue without stopping here to change horses!” cried the young man through the window to the postilion.
“Done!” replied the latter.
And the carriage dashed past the post