Chapter XXIX. Without Name and Rank.

The Prince de Conde was walking with quick steps up and down his apartment. His brow was cloudy, his eyes wore a sad look, and at times he raised his hand, as if he would remove a veil that darkened his sight.

"It must he," he said, decisively, after a while. "Yes, it must be; I see no other means of saving him from the snares of his enemies and friends. He must leave, and that at once."

He walked hastily to the table, pulled the bell violently, and ordered the servant who came in to bring the boy who came yesterday to him.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and a boy of ten. or twelve years, with great blue eyes, fair hair, graceful form, and delicate complexion, came into the room. At his appearance the Prince de Conde seemed deeply moved. He hastened with open arms to meet the boy, pressed him closely to his heart, and kissed his fair hair and eyes.

"Welcome, a thousand times welcome!" he said, with trembling voice. "How long have I desired to see this moment, and how happy I am that it has come at last! You are saved, yon are restored to freedom, to life, and there is in store for you, I hope, a great and brilliant future!"

"Then I shall have to thank you for it, my cousin," said the boy, with his sweet, resonant voice. "You have released me from the dreadful prison, and I thank you for life. I am glad, too, that I see you at last, for I wanted so much to express my thanks, and every evening I have prayed to God to grant me the happiness of greeting my dear cousin, the Prince de Conde."

The joyous light had long since faded from the face of the prince, and a cloud was gathering on his brow, as, with a timid, searching look, he glanced around, as if he feared that some one besides himself might hear the words of the boy.

"Do not call me your cousin," he said, softly; and even his voice was changed, and became cold and husky.

The boy fixed his great blue eyes with an expression of astonishment on the gloomy countenance of the Prince de Conde.

"You are no longer glad to see me here? Is it disagreeable to you for me to call you my cousin?"

The prince made no answer at once, but walked up and down with great strides, and then stood still before the boy, who had calmly observed his impatient motions.

"Let us sit down," said the Prince de Conde—" let us sit down and talk."

He gave his hand to the boy, led him to the divan, and took his own place upon an easy-chair, directly opposite to the child.

"Let us talk," he repeated. "I should like to know, in the first place, whether you have a good memory, for I have been told that your head has suffered, and that you have no recollection of the past."

A gentle, sad smile played around the lips of the boy.

"I have been silent about the past, as I have been commanded to," he said, "but I have not forgotten it."

"Do you remember your mother?" asked the prince.

The boy trembled convulsively, a glowing red passed over his cheeks, and a deep paleness followed.

"Monsieur," he asked, with a tremulous voice, "would it be possible for me to forget my dear mamma queen?—my mamma queen who loved her little Louis Charles so much? Ah, sir, you would not have asked that if you had known how much pain you give me."

"I beg your pardon," said the prince, embarrassed. "I see you remember. But let me try you once more. Will you tell me what happened to you after being taken away from your cruel fosterparents? What were those people’s names, and what were they?"

"My foster-parents, or my tormentors rather, were called Mr. and Mistress Simon. The man had been a cobbler, but afterward he was superintendent and turnkey in the Temple, and when I was taken away from my mamma, sister, and aunt, I had to live with these dreadful people."

"Did you fare badly there?"

"Very badly, sir; I was scolded and ill-treated, and the worst of all was that they wanted to compel me to sing ribald songs about my mamma queen."

"But you did not sing these songs?" asked the Prince de Conde.

The eyes of the boy flamed. "No," he said, proudly, "I did not sing them. They might have beaten me to death. I would rather have died than have done it,"

The prince nodded approvingly. "And how did you escape from these people?" he asked.

"You know, Prince de Conde," answered the boy, smiling. "It is you who helped me escape."

"Tell me about this matter a little," said the prince, "and how you have fared since then. I contributed, as you suppose, to your release, but I was not present In person. How did you escape from the Temple?"

"I was put into a basket with soiled clothes, which Mistress Simon was taking away with her from the Temple. This basket she gave to a washerwoman who was waiting for us at the Macon gate. She had a little donkey-cart in readiness there, the basket was put into it, and went on to a village, the name of which I do not know. There we stopped; I was taken out of the basket and carried into a house, where we remained a few hours to rest and change our clothes."

"We? Whom do you mean by we?"

"Me and the supposed washerwoman," replied the boy. "This woman was, however, no other than M. de Jarjayes, whom I knew long ago, and who, with Fidele—I should say, with Toulan—had thought out and executed the plan of my escape. M. de Jarjayes changed his clothes, as did I also, and after remaining concealed in the house all day, in the evening we took a carriage and rode all night. On the next day we remained concealed in some house, and in the night we continued our journey."

"Did he tell you where you were going?"

"Jarjayes told me that the Prince de Conde was my protector and deliverer, that the magnanimous prince had furnished the necessary money, and that I should remain concealed in one of his palaces till the time should arrive to acknowledge me publicly. Till then, said M. de Jarjayes to me, I was never to speak of the past, nor disclose—single word about any thing that concerned myself or my family. He told me that if I did not follow his instructions literally, I should not only be brought back to Simon, but I should have to bear the blame of causing the death of my sister Therese and my aunt Elizabeth. You can understand, my prince, that after that I was dumb."

"Yes. I understand. Where did M. de Jarjayes carry you?"

"To one of the palaces of the Prince de Conde in loyal and beautiful Vendee. Ah, it was very delightful there, and there were very pleasant people about me. The story was that I was a nephew of the prince, and that on account of impaired health, I was obliged to go into the country and must be tended with great care. I had a preceptor there who gave me instruction, and sometimes the brave General Charette came to the palace on a visit. He was always very polite to me, and showed me all kinds of attention. One day he asked me to walk with him in the park. I did so, of course, and just as we entered a dark allee he fell upon his knees, called me majesty, said he knew very well that I was the King of France, and that the noble and loyal Prince de Conde had rescued me from prison."

"The devil!" muttered the prince to himself, "our dear friends are always our worst enemies."

The boy paid no attention to the words of Conde, and went on: "The general conjured me to confess to him that I was the son of King Louis, and I should follow him, remain with his little army, which would acknowledge me at once, and proclaim me King of France."

"And what did you answer?" asked Conde, eagerly.

"My lord," replied the boy, with proud, grave mien, "I told you that, I gave my word to M. de Jarjayes to divulge nothing till you should tell me that the right time had arrived. I could therefore confess nothing to Charette, and told him that he had fallen into a great error, and that I have and can lay claim to no other honor than of being the nephew of the Prince de Conde."

"You said that?" asked Conde, in amazement.

The boy raised his head with a quick movement, and something of the proud and fiery nature of Louis XIV. flashed in his eyes.

"I did not know then," he replied, "that my relationship to the Prince de Conde was not agreeable to him."

The prince looked troubled and perplexed, and dropped his eyes before the piercing gaze of the boy. "Go on, if I may venture to ask you," he said, softly. "What did General Charette do when you repelled him?"

"First he implored, and wept, and conjured me to trust him, and to lay aside my incognito before him, the truest and best of royalists. But as I continued steadfast, and disclosed nothing, he became angry at length, pushed me away from him, threatened me with his fist, swore he would have his revenge on those who had deceived him, and declared that I was no Bourbon, for the son of my fathers would not be so weak and cowardly as to conceal his name and lineage."

"And you kept silent, in spite of this demand?"

"Yes, my lord, I kept silent; and, notwithstanding his pain and grief, I left him in the belief that he had deceived himself, or rather, that he had been deceived."

"Oh!" cried Conde, "it is plain that you have been steeled in the school of suffering, and that the years of misfortune like yours must each be reckoned double, for, in spite of your twelve years, you have acted like a man!"

"My lord," replied the boy, proudly, "the Bourbons attain their majority at fifteen, and at that age they may, according to the law of France, become independent sovereigns. They ought, therefore, to begin to learn young. That was the opinion of Queen Marie Antoinette, who taught me to read in my fifth year. You, my lord, have, in your magnanimity, done every thing to make me able to conform to the laws of my house, if it shall please God that the son of my dear unfortunate father should one day ascend the vacant throne of the Bourbons. Daring these two years which I have spent in concealment in your palace in Vendee, you have laid a strong and firm foundation, on which the superstructure of my life may rest. I have, thanks to the excellent teachers you have given me, had an opportunity to learn much, and to recall much which I had forgotten during the years before my release from imprisonment."

"Your teachers inform me that your industry was unceasing, and that you learned more in months than some do in years. You are familiar with several languages, and, besides, have been instructed, as I desired, in the art of war and in mathematics."

"In the studies of kings and soldiers," replied the boy, with a proud smile.

"I fear that you will prove not to have prosecuted those studies with a view to their use among soldiers," said Conde, with a sigh. "Your prospects are very dark—yes, darker even than when you left the Temple. These two years have made your condition more perilous. It was fortunate that you could spend them in solitude and secrecy, and be able to finish your education, and it would be a great blessing to you to be able to go on with your quiet studies for some years longer. But your enemies had sought you without rest; they were on your track, and had I left you there any longer, you would have been found some day stabbed or shot in the park. The steward informed me that all kinds of suspicious people had gathered in the neighborhood of the palace and the garden, and I conjecture that they were the emissaries of your enemies. On this I took you away from that place, and have brought you here for your greater safety. Now allow me one question. Do you know who your enemies are?"

"I think I know them," replied Louis Charles, with a sad smile. "My enemies are the self-same men who brought my father and my mother to the scaffold, destroyed the throne, and in its place gave Prance a red cap. My enemies are the republicans, who now rule in this land, and whose great object must, of course, be to put me out of the way, for my life is their death! France will one day be tired of the red cap, and will restore the throne to him to whom it belongs, so soon as it is certain that he who is entitled to the crown, is living to wear it."

"And who do you suppose is justified in wearing the crown of France?"

"You ask as if you did not know that I am the only son and heir of the murdered King of France."

"The only son, but not the only heir. Your inheritance will be contested; and even if France should transform herself from a republic to a monarchy, every attempt possible will be made to drive you, the son of Louis XVI., from the throne, and put the crown on the head of another."

"Sir, if monarchy is uppermost again, the crown belongs to me. Who, in that case, would venture to contend with me for it?"

"Your enemies! Not those whom you have just named, but the other half of your enemies, of whose existence you have no suspicion, it seems-your enemies, the royalists."

"How so?" cried Louis Charles, in amazement. "Do you call the royalists my enemies?"

"Yes, and they are so, your powerful, defiant, and untiring enemies. Do you not see that even here in this room I do not dare to give you the title that is your due, for fear that the walls may have ears and increase the danger which threatens you? I will now name to you the greatest of your enemies—the Count de Provence."

"How! my uncle, the brother of my father, he my enemy?"

"He is your enemy, as he was the enemy of your mother. Believe me, young man, it is not the people who have made the revolution in France; it is the princes who have done it. The Count de Provence, the Count d’Artois, and the Duke d’Orleans—they are the chief revolutionists; they it is who have put fire to the throne; they it is who have sown the libels and lampoons broadcast over France, and made the name of Marie Antoinette odious. They did it out of hate, out of revenge, and out of ambition. Queen Marie Antoinette had won her husband over to the policy of Austria, and in this way had set herself in opposition to the Count de Provence, and the whole royal family. The count never forgave her for this, and he will never forgive you for being the son of your mother. The Count de Provence, as he now styles himself, is your sworn enemy, and will do all he can to bring you to ruin; he is ambitious, and his goal is, to be the King of France!"

"King of France? The Count de Provence, the brother of the king, wants to be his successor, when I, the son of the king, am alive and demand my inheritance ?"

"Your demand will not be acknowledged: they will declare that you are an impostor and a deceiver. Ah, the Count de Provence is a selfish and a hard character. He means to make his own way, and if you put hinderances in it, he will put you out of his path, without compassion and without remorse; trust me for knowing this, who for three years have been in the immediate neighborhood of the prince. I was afraid to impart the plan of your escape to the princes, and, after you were released, I was silent, for a secret is only safe when a very few are conscious of it. But after the news came last year from Paris, that the boy who had been placed as your substitute in the Temple had died, after a long sickness, I ventured to inform the Count de Lille about the real facts. I told him that I believed that information I had received might be relied upon, that King Louis XVII. had been released from the Temple by true and devoted servants, and was then in a place of safety. Would you like to know what reply the count made?"

"I pray you, tell me," responded Louis Charles, with a sigh.

"He answered me, ’I advise you, cousin, not to put any confidence in such idle stories, and not to be duped by any sly rogues. My unfortunate little nephew died in the Temple—that is a fact acknowledged by the republic, universally believed, and denied by no one. After long sufferings the son has fallen as a new victim to the bloodthirsty republicans, and we are still wearing mourning for our deceased nephew, King Louis XVII. And should any wise-head happen on the thought of making the dead boy come to life again, I will be the first to disown him and hold him as an impostor.’ Those were the words of the count, and you will now confess that I am right in calling him your enemy, and in not daring to communicate to him the secret of your release?"

"I grant you," replied the prince, sadly, "I would rather bury the secret forever."

"Now, hear me further. A few weeks ago the prince summoned me, and I saw on his sinister face and in his flashing eyes that he must have received some unwelcome tidings. He did not make me wait long for the confirmation of my conjectures. With a sharp, cutting voice he asked me what kind of a nephew of mine that was whom I was educating at my palace in Vendee. General de Charette had given him information through one of his emissaries sending him word that the report was current in Vendee that this alleged nephew of mine was the rescued King Louis XVII., whom I had helped release from the Temple. He, General Charette, had believed it at first. He had therefore (so the prince went on to say) visited my palace recently, for the purpose of discovering the supposed young king. There he convinced himself that the boy bore no resemblance to the little Louis Charles—whom he had once seen at the Tuileries—and that he certainly was not the son of Louis XVI."

"He told me only too truly that he would have his revenge," whispered the young prince.

"He has kept his oath, for he has loudly and publicly declared his belief that Louis XVII. died in the Temple, and he has therefore administered to his army an oath in favor of King Louis XVIII.—that is, the Count de Provence. The count himself informed me of this, and then added, threateningly, ’I advise, you, cousin, either to acknowledge your young nephew, and treat him openly, or else put him out of the way. I advise you further, not to let yourself be imposed upon by adventurers and impostors. It is known that you were among the most active adherents of Queen Marie Antoinette, and there may be people who would work on your credulity and make you believe that the poor little Louis Charles was really released from the Temple. Do not deny that you parted with much money at that time, and believed that it was wanted for the purpose of setting the young King of France free. It was a trap, set in view of your loyalty and devotion, and you fell into it. But you gave your money to no effect, the poor, pitiable king could not be saved, and died in the Temple as a prisoner of the republic. Take care how you trust any idle stories, for, I tell you, you would never bring me to put confidence in them. I am now the rightful King of France—I am Louis XVIII.—and I am resolved not only to declare every pretender who claims to be Louis XVII. an impostor, but to bring him to punishment as a traitor. Mark this well, and therefore warn this mysterious nephew of yours not to venture on playing out his comedy, for it will assuredly change into tragedy, and end with his death.’ These were the words of the Count de Lille, and now you understand why I have brought you so suddenly, and so secretly, away from my solitary palace and have you here."

"I understand every thing," said Louis Charles, with a sigh; "I understand, that it would have been better if you had never released me, and I had died like my father and mother."

"We must postpone the accomplishment of our hopes," said Conde, sadly, "for I confess to you, there is little to expect from the present, and there is no place where you are safe from the persecutions and the daggers of your enemies. The republicans desire your death as much as the royalists. In France, two parties threaten you, and would I now risk every thing, carry you to some European court and acquaint the sovereign of your arrival, and ask for his assistance, I should have no credence, for, not the French republic alone, but the Count de Lille would protest against it, and disavow you before all Europe. It is, therefore, absolutely necessary, in order to secure you against your enemies, that you should disappear for a season, and that we patiently await the time which shall permit us to bring you back upon the scenes."

"Do you believe that time will ever come?" asked the little prince, with a shake of the head.

"I believe it, and, above every thing, I hope it," replied Conde, quickly. "The greatest difficulty is to find a place for you to remain where you may not be suspected, and where yon may be safe from assault. To my great regret I cannot entertain you here, for my family are too well known for me to suddenly acknowledge a legitimate nephew of your age, and the Count de Lille would be the last to believe it. I confess that it has cost me a great deal of disquiet and anxious thought to find a secure asylum for you."

"And do you think you have found one at last?" asked Louis Charles, indifferently.

"Yes, I believe so, or rather, I know that I have found one. You must be taken to a place which no one can suspect as that where you would be likely to be."

"And what place is this?"

"It is called Mayence."

The boy, who had sat with downcast eyes, perhaps in order not to let some tears be seen, looked quickly up, and the greatest astonishment was depicted in his expressive features.

"Mayence?" he asked. "Is not that a fortress on the Rhine which the troops of the French republic have taken possession of?"

"Yes; and the commandant of Mayence, the head of the troops, is General Kleber, one of the bravest and noblest soldiers of the French republic."

"And you, you want to send me to this General Kleber? Ah, my prince, that would be thrusting me, for the purpose of rescuing me from persecution, into the very crater of the volcano."

"It is not so bad as you suppose, my young friend. General Kleber is at heart a good and true royalist, and although he serves the republic, he does so because he is first of all a soldier, a soldier of his country, and because his country now has pressing need of soldiers to defend the honor and glory of France. I have sent a trustworthy man to General Kleber to impart this secret to him, and to ask him for protection, and a place of refuge for you. General Kleber is ready to grant both, and he has sent his adjutant to Coblentz to escort his nephew to Mayence. You are that nephew, and if you give your consent, you will set out at once and go to Mayence."

"And if I do not give my consent?" asked Louis Charles, with a proud, flashing look.

"I confess," said Conde, with a shrug—"I confess that I am not prepared for that contingency, and cannot on the instant grasp all the unfortunate results which would ensue on your refusal."

"Be calmed, Conde, I do not refuse. I have only this one thing to care for, to cause no danger, and bring nothing disagreeable to you, for I see that they are in store for you if I do not disappear again from view. The son of the king vanished from sight, to appear as the nephew of Conde; and now the nephew of Conde is to vanish, to emerge as the nephew of General Kleber. Ah,—who knows but I may yet be the nephew of Simon the cobbler, preparatory to my last appearance on the guillotine?"

"I hope, on the contrary, that on the day when France shall rise again, you will rise too, the acknowledged son of Louis XVI., and the heir of the throne of France. At present the republic has sway, and there is no hope of an immediate change. But that will not last always; and in the decisive hour, when the monarchy and the republic come to their last great battle for existence—at that hour you must appear upon the field, must lift the lilies high in the air, and summon the royalists to your side in the name of God, and of the king your father."

"And what if my uncle, the Count de Provence, then declares me to be an impostor?"

"Then you must publicly and solemnly appeal to France, lay the proofs of your lineage before the nation, summon unimpeachable witnesses, and demand your throne of the French nation. And believe me, if the heart of France is compelled to choose between you and the Count de Provence, it will not choose him, for the count has never possessed the heart of the people, and God is just."

"God is just," replied Louis Charles, sadly—"God is just, and yet the King and Queen of France have perished on the guillotine, and their brother calls himself King of France, while the son of Louis XVI. must find shelter with a general of that French republic which was the enemy of my parents."

"It is true," said Conde, with a sigh, "it is very difficult at times to see the justice of God, but we must always hope to see it, and at length it will reveal itself in all its glory. And the hour of judgment will come for you. Await it steadfastly and with patience, and when it is come, call on me, and I will not neglect your summons, but will support you, and will give you my recognition. I have all the documents which relate to your flight, all the testimony given by those who were engaged in assisting you, and besides this, a detailed account of your flight, subscribed with my name, and stamped with my seal. I have further the testimony of the teachers who gave yon instruction at my palace of Chambord, and the keeper of the palace recorded the day on which you arrived. I am ready to give you these papers, if you will swear to me that you will not misuse them, but give them to General Kleber, that he may preserve them for you."

"I swear to you that I will do so," said the prince, solemnly.

Conde handed to him a small and closely-rolled package of papers. "This contains your future," he said, "and out of these papers I hope a crown will grow for you. Till then let the republic preserve them for you. General Kleber is expecting you, and his adjutant is waiting for you in the next room. Permit me to give you one more piece of advice: remain steadfast, resist all tempters who would beguile you with pleasant words to acknowledge yourself King of France. For be persuaded these tempters are the emissaries of your enemies, and if you should acknowledge to them that you are King Louis XVII., you would be writing your own death-warrant. The balls which I trust will spare the nephew of General Kleber would certainly pierce the heart of the nephew of Count de Lille. Continue to deny it as you denied it to General Charette. Swear to me that you will faithfully keep the secret of your lineage till I release you from the oath by which I now close your lips, and tell you that the hour of action and of disclosures is come; swear it to me, in view of the fidelity which I have shown to you, and which I shall always be ready to show."

"You have saved my life," said Louis Charles, solemnly. "My life, therefore, belongs to you, and I give it into your hands in swearing, by the memory of my dear parents, and especially my noble and proud-spirited mother, Queen Marie Antoinette, that I will faithfully and truly keep the secret of my parentage, and not feel myself justified in revealing it to the world, till you, the Prince de Conde, shall have given me permission, and empowered me to do so."

"I thank you," said Conde, "for I am now unconcerned about your immediate future. General Kleber and the French republic will protect you, for the present, from the dangerous pretender, Count Lille, and, in God’s providence, I trust there will come a day when France will be prepared to raise the son of its kings to the throne which belongs to him. Let us hope for this day, and be persuaded that I shall neglect nothing which will help bring it about. And now, as we part, I bow my knee to you, my young king; I now acknowledge you solemnly as the son of my well-beloved cousin, King Louis XVI., and the rightful heir of the throne of the lilies. May the spirits of the murdered royal couple, may God and the ear of my king take note of the oath which I now pronounce. I swear that I will never acknowledge any other prince as King of France, so long as you, King Louis XVII., are among the living. I swear that if I ever break this vow, and acknowledge another King of France, you, Louis XVII., may accuse me of high-treason, and condemn me to the death which a traitor deserves. I swear that I will subject myself to this death-penalty without opposition and complaint. And this I swear by Almighty God, and by the memory of your royal parents, whose spirits are with us at this hour."

"And I, Prince de Conde, I accept your oath," said Louis Charles, gravely. "I go away now into exile, but I carry your oath with me as my hope for the future, and may God grant that I shall never be compelled to remind you of it, but that you will faithfully and truly keep it. Fare you well! My crown rests in your heart."

"And in these papers, sire. Deliver them to the brave General Kleber, and he will preserve them as his most sacred and cherished possession."

He kissed the hand of the prince, which was reached out for the papers, and then hastened to summon the officer, who was waiting in the adjoining room for the nephew of General Kleber, having no suspicion what an important mission was intrusted to him.

But General Kleber knew the secret better, and although not a word and not an action disclosed it, yet the gentle friendliness, the mild look, the subdued smile with which the general received his young nephew in Mayence, testified that he was familiar with the secret, and knew how to guard it.

In Mayence, under the care of General Kleber, his nephew, Louis, as he called him, remained during the subsequent time, and very soon gained the heart of his uncle, and was his inseparable friend by day and by night. They slept in one room, they ate at one table. The nephew accompanied his uncle at all parades and military exercises; and, in order to make his favorite a skilful soldier, the general undertook the duties of teacher, gave him instruction in the art of war, and taught him the more familiar duties of a soldier’s life. The nephew comprehended readily, and pursued zealously the studies which his uncle assigned him. The pains and sorrows of the past were forgotten, and only the recollections of his happy child-hood rested silently at the bottom of his heart like pearls at the bottom of the sea.

"When shall I arise from this estate? When will the crown of the future be linked with these pleasant recollections of the past?" These were the questions which the growing boy repeated to himself every morning and every evening. But his lips never uttered them; he never gave the slightest indication that he was any thing else than the nephew of General Kleber. The French garrison of Mayence considered him to be so and no one thought of asking whether he bore any other name. It sufficed that he was the nephew of the noble, valiant, and heroic General Kleber. That was the name and rank of the little prince.