WE have seen how Pitou was disappointed.
The fall was immense. Not even Satan had fallen from such an eminence when from heaven he was thrown to hell. Satan fell, but remained a king; while the Abbé Fortier's victim was only Ange Pitou.
How could he appear before the persons who had sent him? How, after having testified such rash confidence, could he say that he was a boaster and a coward, who, armed with a sword and a helmet, had suffered an old abbé to whip him and put him to flight.
Pitou was wrong in having boasted that he would triumph over the abbé Fortier, and in failing.
The first time he found himself out of view, he put his hand on his head and thought.
He had expected to conciliate Fortier with his Latin and Greek. He thought that by the honeyed cake of classical expressions he would corrupt the old Cerberus; but he had been bitten, and all had been spoiled.
The abbé had great self-esteem, and Pitou had not regarded it. What most offended the abbé was Pitou's finding fault with his French,—a thing he cared far more about than he did about the muskets which Pitou had sought to take from him.
Young people when good always think others as good as they are themselves.
The abbé was not only an extreme royalist, but also a devoted philologist.
Pitou was especially sorry that he had excited him, both on account of Louis XVI. and the verb “to be.” He knew and should have managed his old master. That was his error, and he regretted it, though too late.
He should have used his eloquence to convince the abbé of his own royalism, and ignored his mistakes in grammar.
He should have convinced him that the National Guard of Haramont was opposed to the Revolution.
He should have said that it would sustain the king.
Above all, he never should have said a word about the confusion of tenses of the verb “to be.”
There was no earthly doubt but that the abbé would have opened his arsenal for the purpose of securing to the cause of the king such a leader and such a company.
This falsehood is diplomacy. Pitou thought over all the stories of old times.
He thought of Philip of Macedon, who swore falsely so often, but who was called a great man.
Of Brutus, who to overcome his enemies pretended to be a fool, but who is thought a great man.
Of Themistocles, who served his fellow-citizens by deceiving them, but who is called a great man.
On the other hand, he remembered that Aristides would admit of no injustice, and that he too was esteemed a great man.
He thought, though, that Aristides fortunately lived at a time when the Persians were so stupid that one could act honestly and yet conquer them.
He then remembered that Aristides had been exiled, and this circumstance decided him in favor of Philip of Macedon, Brutus, and Themistocles.
Descending to modern times, Pitou remembered how Gilbert, Bailly, Lameth, Barnave, and Mirabeau would have acted, had Louis XVI. been the abbé and they been Pitou.
What would they have done to have the king arm the five hundred thousand National Guards of France?
Exactly the contrary of what Pitou had done.
They would have persuaded Louis XVI. that they desired nothing more than to preserve the Father of the French; that to save him, from three to five hundred thousand guns were needed.
Mirabeau would have succeeded.
Pitou then remembered the two flowing lines:—
He came to the conclusion that Ange Pitou was a perfect brute, and that to return to his electors with any sort of glory he ought to have done exactly what he had not.
Pitou determined, then, either by force or by stratagem to get possession of the arms.
The first resource was stratagem.
He could enter the abbé's museum and steal the arms.
If he did it alone, the act would be theft. If with companions, it would be simply a removal.
The very word “theft” made Pitou uneasy.
As to the removal, there were yet many people in France who, used to the old laws, would call it burglarious robbery.
But Pitou's self-love was excited, and to get out of the difficulty with honor he was forced to act alone.
He set to work most diligently to seek some mode of extricating himself.
At last, like Archimedes, he shouted “Eureka!” which in plain English means, “I have discovered!”
Lafayette was Commander-in-Chief of the National
Haramont had a National Guard.
Lafayette then was Commander of the National Guard of Haramont.
He could not, therefore, consent that they should be destitute of arms while the rest of the militia of France was armed or about to be so.
To reach Lafayette he had to appeal to Gilbert, and Gilbert he would reach through Billot.
Pitou had then to write to Billot.
As Billot could not read, Gilbert would have to read the letter for him, and in this way Gilbert would learn the facts, thus saving the necessity of at least one letter.
His resolution being taken, Pitou waited till night, when he returned secretly to Haramont and took up the pen.
But notwithstanding the precautions he had taken that his return should be unobserved, he was seen by Claude Tellier and Désiré Maniquet.
They withdrew in silence, and each with a finger on his lips, as a token of silence.
Pitou now had entered upon the rôle of a practical politician.
The following is a copy of the letter which produced such an effect on Tellier and Maniquet:—
DEAR AND HONORABLE MONSIEUR BILLOT,—The Revolutionary cause in our part of the country every day gains
The people of Haramont has enrolled itself in the active National Guard.
Arms may be procured. Certain persons have large quantities, the possession of which would prevent the expenditure of public money.
If General de Lafayette be pleased to order these to be seized and distributed, I will myself guarantee that thirty muskets will be placed in the arsenals of Haramont.
It is the only way to oppose the anti-Revolutionary action of the aristocrats and of the enemies of the nation.Your fellow-citizen and servant,
ANGE PITOU.
When this was done, he remembered that he had forgotten to write to the farmer of his wife and family.
He had treated him too much as a Brutus; but if he were to give Billot the details about Catherine, he would have either to lie or to rend the father's heart; it would be also to reopen his own love-wounds.
Stifling a sigh, he added the following postscript:—
“P.S.—Madame Billot, Mademoiselle Catherine, and all are well, and send their love to Monsieur Billot.”
He thus compromised neither himself nor any one.
He sent the letter, and the answer soon came.
Two days afterwards, a mounted express reached Haramont and asked for Monsieur Ange Pitou.
All the members of the militia were on the qui vive.
The horse was white with foam, and the rider wore the uniform of the Parisian National Guard.
From the excitement he produced all may fancy how great was Pitou's agitation.
He approached, and not without trembling received the package which the officer gave him.
It was the reply of Billot, written by Gilbert.
He advised Pitou to be both moderate and patriotic.
He enclosed an order of Lafayette, countersigned by the Minister of War, for the National Guard of Haramont to arm itself.
“The possessors of muskets and sabres, in a greater number than one, will be required to place them in the hands of the commanders of the National Guards of the commune.
“The present order extends to all the province.”
Pitou thanked the officer and saw him at once set out.
Pitou had reached the acme of glory, having received a message directly from Lafayette and the ministry.
This message suited his ideas exactly.
To describe the effect of the messenger and official document on Pitou's followers would be impossible, and we will not therefore attempt to do so. The sight, however, of the excited countenances of all the people, the great respect exhibited to him, would have made the most sceptical believe that henceforward our hero was going to be a most important personage.
All the electors requested to see and touch the ministerial seal,—a favor Pitou kindly granted.
When none but the initiated remained, Pitou said:
“Citizens, my plans have succeeded as I had foreseen.
I wrote to General de Lafayette that you wished to form a National Guard and had selected me as commander.
“Read the directions of this letter.”
The despatch had been directed:—
“I am then recognized in my rank, by Lafayette, as commander.
“You are recognized as guards.”
A loud shout of joy and admiration shook the roof of Pitou's garret.
“I know where we can get arms,” said Pitou.
“You will at once appoint a lieutenant and a sergeant. Those two functionaries will accompany me in the execution of my project.”
All present seemed to hesitate.
“What is your opinion, Pitou?” said Maniquet.
“The matter does not concern me. Meet alone and appoint the two functionaries. But appoint capable ones.”
Pitou bade adieu to his soldiers, and remained, like Agamemnon, in a state of solemn grandeur.
He thus remained in his glory while the soldiers discussed the details of the military power which was to rule Haramont.
The election lasted an hour. The lieutenant and sergeant chosen were Tellier and Maniquet, the latter of whom was the subaltern. They returned and announced the fact to Pitou.
He then said: “Now there is no time to lose.”
“Yes,” said an enthusiast, “let us begin the manual.”
“Wait a moment; let us get guns first.”
“But can we not practise with sticks?”
“Let us be military,” said Pitou, who watched the military order with anxiety, but who did not feel himself qualified to teach an art of which he was utterly ignorant.
“It is a difficult matter to teach a raw recruit how to shoot with a stick. Let us not be ridiculous.”
“Come with me, then, Lieutenant and Sergeant. The rest of you wait here.”
“We have six hours' daylight yet left. That is more time than is needed to go to Villers-Cotterets.”
The staff of the army of Haramont set off.
When Pitou, however, read again the letter he had received, to assure himself that so much honor was not a dream, he discovered that he had overlooked one phrase:—
“Why did Pitou forget to give Doctor Gilbert some information about Sebastien
