France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Fiction; Triangles (Interpersonal relations) -- Fiction
At the same time the man who had just interrupted Coursegol's promenade
took him by the arm and led him toward the garden. He was clad in black
and enveloped in a large cloak that would have made him look like a
priest had it not been for the high hat, ornamented with the national
cockade, which proved him a patriot of the middle class. His thin,
emaciated face, deeply furrowed with wrinkles indicated that he had long
since passed his sixtieth birthday; but there was nothing else in his
appearance that betokened old age. His form was so erect, his eye so
clear, his step so firm, that one, not seeing his face, would have
thought him still in the prime of life.
On entering the garden, Vauquelas glanced around, but, seeing no place
which he deemed sufficiently retired, he seemed to change his plan.
"I fear that these trees have ears," said he, "and what I wish to say to
you must not be overheard."
And without saying more, he led the way to the Cafe Corazza. They
entered it. The saloon was filled with people, eating and drinking while
they read the papers or indulged in heated political discussions. One
man had mounted a table and was delivering a long discourse. He was
endeavoring to convince his listeners that France was being betrayed by
the secret agents sent to Paris by the Emigres. His was no new theme;
buy the orator displayed so much energy that his audience was polite
enough to seem pleased with his efforts. Vauquelas, who appeared to be
perfectly at home, crossed the room to whisper a word in the ear of the
man who was standing at the cashier's desk. This man, who proved to be
the proprietor of the establishment, at once conducted Vauquelas to a
private room. Coursegol followed, and, the proprietor having taken his
departure, the two men found themselves alone.
"I have been contemplating the proposition I am about to make you for
several months," Vauquelas then began. "The very first time I saw you, I
made up my mind that you were the man to aid me in the projects I had
long since formed, but which had not been carried into execution for
want of an assistant in whom I could implicitly confide. But before I
trusted you with my plans, I wished to know you; so I have studied you
closely while you were unconscious of my scrutiny. I have admired the
prudence you have displayed in all your business transactions. You suit
me; and if you see fit to accede to the proposition I am about to offer
for your consideration, our fortunes are made."
"I am listening, Citizen Vauquelas," replied Coursegol, "but I may as
well tell you that it will be useless to confide your plans to me if
they are not perfectly honest."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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