come up to say farewell to Pierre. It was he who had baptized him and administered to him his First Communion. He had always taken an interest and pride in the youth on account of his good moral conduct and religious disposition. He had been grieved, too, when he heard of the trouble which had so suddenly fallen upon Pierre and his father, and was glad to profit by this opportunity of finding them both together, to express his sympathy and affection. "My good Pierre," he said, "I am sorry indeed to hear that we must lose you, and that all your happy prospects should be so sadly clouded. I have no doubt, however, that you will do credit to us in Brittany by serving as a brave soldier, should occasion require it, and by proving, too, that a soldier is none the less brave who is not ashamed to own himself a Christian. Remember, Pierre, that you will be exposed to greater temptations and trials now, than even those you had to undergo at Paris, but never be afraid to confess that you are the servant of Jesus Christ; be as brave and steadfast a soldier in His army as in that of France and the emperor." "Ah! Monsieur le Curé," said Pierre, "I know that those temptations you speak of will not be the least of the trials now in store for me. God give me strength to stand firm in the faith! But, Monsieur le Curé, you will come and see my father sometimes, will you not, and comfort him when he is sad and downcast about me? He will want cheering now and then, and none can do that better than you can, I know." "Yes, Pierre, I won't forget him, I promise you. Remember, Jacques, you must come or send for me whenever I can do you a service; don't be modest about it. It's the duty of us clergy to be the servants of all, and especially to minister to the poor and to those who are in sorrow or distress." "Thank you, Monsieur le Curé; thank you," said Jacques Plumier through his tears; "you will pray for Pierre sometimes, will you not?" "Yes, Jacques, indeed I will; but now, Pierre, I must say farewell; may God bless you, my boy! and bring you back to your native town in peace and safety!" Pierre knelt down and took off his cap, while the venerable man placed his hands on his head, and blessed him. The good priest then shook hands warmly with both father and son, and turned away. Three hours after Pierre, together with some twenty or thirty other conscripts, some loudly singing patriotic songs rather out of tune, to drown their sorrow, others walking silently, with bent heads and tearful eyes, were crossing the viaduct on their way to Rennes. There were many sad hearts in Dinan that morning; weeping mothers, sorrowing fathers, disconsolate sisters, but none perhaps felt the separation more keenly than old Jacques Plumier, as he still stood on the terrace overlooking the Rance, watching the band of conscripts as they crossed the bridge and ascended the steep hill on the opposite side. When they reached the last turn of the road, which would hide them from view, Pierre stopped and waved his handkerchief as a farewell signal to his father, who replied by doing the same; then the band of conscripts vanished out of sight, and the poor old man walked sadly and slowly home to his lonely cottage. CHAPTER III. A PARISIAN WORKSHOP. "Then in content possess your hearts For those which seem the easiest parts Earns for himself his evening rest, And an increase of good for man."-LORD HOUGHTON. LOUIS LAFORCE had regular work and wages in a large establishment in the Faubourg St. Antoine. There of course he was thrown much into the society of other young men, the majority of whom were as gay, thoughtless, and irreligious as Parisian workmen usually are. Here, too, his brother-in-law Camille worked, thus he and Louis were a great deal in each other's company. Camille was an excellent workman, clever, and possessing admirable taste, and was therefore a perfect treasure to his employer, he was a good-natured and on the whole a kindhearted man; but in politics he was a fiery Republican, and in religion a free-thinker, and never lost an opportunity of expressing these sentiments. He had once been imprisoned for six months for taking part in an insurrection: he was on intimate terins with all the democratic leaders in France, and was closely watched by the police. Numbers of his companions in M. Gérome's workshops shared his opinions, a great many of whom were far more violent and dangerous than Camille, for love of his work, and esteem for his employer, kept him steady and quiet on the whole. His wife too, the good Clotilde, had she often was the means of keeping great influence over him; him out of mischief by preventing him, though with difficulty, from attending revolutionary clubs and seditious meetings. About a fortnight after the commencement of our story, some twenty or more workmen were conversing with great animation in one of the large rooms in M. Gérome's establishment. Every now and then, one would leave the work in which he was engaged, spring on to a chair or table, and violently gesticulate; so loud indeed were their voices, and so wild and violent their gestures, that a foreigner would imagine that they were quarrelling, and must soon come to blows, Such, however, was not exactly the case, for the French are more excitable, more easily affected, and more demonstrative than any other nation. Both Camille and Louis were among these workmen. A short coarse-looking man of about forty, in a ragged blouse and a very dirty cap, who had mounted on to a table in the middle of the room, was declaiming with great volubility. "Comrades," said he, "how long is this to go on? Are we always to work for these rich, who grind us down and make us labour like horses, keeping all the profits to themselves, and always refusing to increase our wages, while they are gaining millions of francs, from the sweat of our brows? Let them work themselves if they want to make money, or let them divide the profits with us! Look here, friends, what these capitalists are, they have wealth and they oppress those who have none. And what right have they to their money? To possess it, all the trouble they have had is to be born into the world! And as to us, what do we get? Why wages; but wages are dependence, slavery, and often not sufficient to buy bread. Come, take heart! let us get out of this wretched position. The means are simple enough, we are the more numerous; well, we must intimidate the rich, we must intimidate the government, and make it tax the rich to the half of their revenue, which sum must be devoted to the relief of the workmen. To do this we shall have to endure privation, to maintain a struggle, but we shall conquer, and then-the future is the people's. Moreover, my friends, I have one other bit of advice to give you. Mistrust workmen who espouse the cause of their masters. They are spies; you have some such among you, I know," he added, looking round in a suspicious manner, and glancing slyly at Louis. We have already hinted that Louis was slightly imbued with the prevalent democratic ideas, but he was a good honest workman, he esteemed and respected his employer, and had no great faith in the absurd opinions of the Socialists and Communists. The speaker, who had only made his appearance in the workshop about a week ago, and had already sown the seeds of discontent and sedition in many hearts, had already inspired Louis with disgust, for on the previous evening he had expressed himself strongly, when Clément Roux had been airing some of his ridiculous notions on the equal division of property, the abolition of religion, and such like. Louis now perceived that the remark about a spy was meant for him. His blood was up at once; he threw down his tools, and rushed up to the orator. "What do you mean by calling me a spy?" he exclaimed in a rage. "I mentioned no one, Monsieur Louis Laforce: he who excuses, sometimes accuses himself." "Insolent rascal!" cried Louis, springing on to the table, "I'll teach you-" "Compose yourself, Louis," said Camille, taking his brother-inlaw by the arm, "perhaps Clement did not mean you, after all.” "Yes he did, let us fight it out, Camille," said Louis, trying to disengage himself from the grasp of his relative. Fight," said Clement, as he got down from the table and turned away trembling, "No! we of the International are men of peace, we do not love violence: if the Citizen Laforce is not of our opinion, let him refute my arguments by reasons; blows of the fist are not such, by any means!" |