But the young sailor turned lightly on the heels of his shoes without deigning to reply, and presently disappointed all the expectations which Mademoiselle de Verneuil had based on the charm of his appearance.He applied himself to ordering his breakfast with the eagerness of a boy, questioned the cook and the landlady about their receipts, wondered at provincial customs like a Parisian just out of his shell, made as many objections as any fine lady, and showed the more lack of mind and character because his face and manner had seemed to promise them.Corentin smiled with pity when he saw the face he made on tasting the best cider of Normandy.
"Heu!" he cried; "how can you swallow such stuff as that? It is meat and drink both.I don't wonder the Republic distrusts a province where they knock their harvest from trees with poles, and shoot travellers from the ditches.Pray don't put such medicine as that on the table;give us some good Bordeaux, white and red.And above all, do see if there is a good fire upstairs.These country-people are so backward in civilization!" he added."Alas!" he sighed, "there is but one Paris in the world; what a pity it is I can't transport it to sea! Heavens!
spoil-sauce!" he suddenly cried out to the cook; "what makes you put vinegar in that fricassee when you have lemons? And, madame," he added, "you gave me such coarse sheets I couldn't close my eyes all night." Then he began to twirl a huge cane, executing with a silly sort of care a variety of evolutions, the greater or less precision and agility of which were considered proofs of a young man's standing in the class of the Incroyables, so-called.
"And it is with such dandies as that," said Corentin to the landlord confidentially, watching his face, "that the Republic expects to improve her navy!""That man," said the young sailor to the landlady, in a low voice, "is a spy of Fouche's.He has 'police' stamped on his face, and I'll swear that spot he has got on his chin is Paris mud.Well, set a thief to catch--"Just then a lady to whom the young sailor turned with every sign of outward respect, entered the kitchen of the inn.
"My dear mamma," he said."I am glad you've come.I have recruited some guests in your absence.""Guests?" she replied; "what folly!"
"It is Mademoiselle de Verneuil," he said in a low voice.
"She perished on the scaffold after the affair of Savenay; she went to Mans to save her brother the Prince de Loudon," returned his mother, rather brusquely.
"You are mistaken, madame," said Corentin, gently, emphasizing the word "madame"; "there are two demoiselles de Verneuil; all great houses, as you know, have several branches."The lady, surprised at this *******, drew back a few steps to examine the speaker; she turned her black eyes upon him, full of the keen sagacity so natural to women, seeking apparently to discover in what interest he stepped forth to explain Mademoiselle de Verneuil's birth.
Corentin, on the other hand, who was studying the lady cautiously, denied her in his own mind the joys of motherhood and gave her those of love; he refused the possession of a son of twenty to a woman whose dazzling skin, and arched eyebrows, and lashes still unblemished, were the objects of his admiration, and whose abundant black hair, parted on the forehead into ****** bands, bought out the youthfulness of an intelligent head.The slight lines of the brow, far from indicating age, revealed young passions.Though the piercing eyes were somewhat veiled, it was either from the fatigue of travelling or the too frequent expression of excitement.Corentin remarked that she was wrapped in a mantle of English material, and that the shape of her hat, foreign no doubt, did not belong to any of the styles called Greek, which ruled the Parisian fashions of the period.Corentin was one of those beings who are compelled by the bent of their natures to suspect evil rather than good, and he instantly doubted the citizenship of the two travellers.The lady, who, on her side, had made her observations on the person of Corentin with equal rapidity, turned to her son with a significant look which may be faithfully translated into the words: "Who is this queer man? Is he of our stripe?"To this mute inquiry the youth replied by an attitude and a gesture which said: "Faith! I can't tell; but I distrust him." Then, leaving his mother to fathom the mystery, he turned to the landlady and whispered: "Try to find out who that fellow is; and whether he is really accompanying the young lady; and why.""So," said Madame du Gua, looking at Corentin, "you are quite sure, citizen, that Mademoiselle de Verneuil is living?""She is living in flesh and blood as surely, /madame/, as the citizen du Gua Saint-Cyr."This answer contained a sarca**, the hidden meaning of which was known to none but the lady herself, and any one but herself would have been disconcerted by it.Her son looked fixedly at Corentin, who coolly pulled out his watch without appearing to notice the effect of his answer.The lady, uneasy and anxious to discover at once if the speech meant danger or was merely accidental, said to Corentin in a natural tone and manner; "How little security there is on these roads.We were attacked by Chouans just beyond Mortagne.My son came very near being killed; he received two balls in his hat while protecting me.""Is it possible, madame? were you in the mail-coach which those brigands robbed in spite of the escort,--the one we have just come by?
You must know the vehicle well.They told me at Mortagne that the Chouans numbered a couple of thousands and that every one in the coach was killed, even the travellers.That's how history is written! Alas!
madame," he continued, "if they murder travellers so near to Paris you can fancy how unsafe the roads are in Brittany.I shall return to Paris and not risk myself any farther.""Is Mademoiselle de Verneuil young and handsome?" said the lady to the hostess, struck suddenly with an idea.