The Companions of Jehu by Alexandre Dumas (red scrolls of magic .txt) 📕

CHAPTER XXIII. ALEA JACTA EST

At seven in the morning, Fouché, minister of police, entered the bedroom of Gohier, president of the Directory.

“Oh, ho!” said Gohier, when he saw him. “What has happened now, monsieur le ministre, to give me the pleasure of seeing you so early?”

“Don’t you know about the decree?” asked Fouché.

“What decree?” asked honest Gohier.

“The decree of the Council of the Ancients.”

“When was it issued?”

“Last night.”

“So the Council of the Ancients assembles at night now?”

“When matters are urgent, yes.”

“And what does the decree say.”

“It transfers the legislative sessions to Saint-Cloud.”

Gohier felt the blow. He realized the advantage which Bonaparte’s daring genius might obtain by this isolation.

“And since when,” he asked Fouché, “is the minister of police transformed into a messenger of the Council of the Ancients?”

“That’s where you are mistaken, citizen president,” replied the ex-Conventional. “I am more than ever minister of police this morning, for I have come to inform you of an act which may have the most serious consequences.”

Not being as yet sure of how the conspiracy of the Rue de la Victoire would turn out, Fouché was not averse to keeping open a door for retreat at the Luxembourg. But Gohier, honest as he was, knew the man too well to be his dupe.

“You should have informed me of this decree yesterday, and not this morning; for in making the communication now you are scarcely in advance of the official communication I shall probably receive in a few moments.”

As he spoke, an usher opened the door and informed the president that a messenger from the Inspectors of the Council of the Ancients was there, and asked to make him a communication.

“Let him come in,” said Gohier.

The messenger entered and handed the president a letter. He broke the seal hastily and read:

CITIZEN PRESIDENT—The Inspecting Commission hasten to inform you of a decree removing the residence of the legislative body to Saint-Cloud. The decree will be forwarded to you; but measures for public safety are at present occupying our attention. We invite you to meet the Commission of the Ancients. You will find Sièyes and Ducos already there. Fraternal greetings BARILLON, FARGUES, CORNET,

“Very good,” said Gohier, dismissing the messenger with a wave of his hand.

The messenger went out. Gohier turned to Fouché.

“Ah!” said he, “the plot is well laid; they inform me of the decree, but they do not send it to me. Happily you are here to tell me the terms of it.”

“But,” said Fouché, “I don’t know them.”

“What! do you the minister of police, mean to tell me that you know nothing about this extraordinary session of the Council of the Ancients, when it has been put on record by a decree?”

“Of course I knew it took place, but I was unable to be present.”

“And you had no secretary, no amanuensis to send, who could give you an account, word for word, of this session, when in all probability this session will dispose of the fate of France! Ah, citizen Fouché, you are either a very deep, or a very shallow minister of police!”

“Have you any orders to give me, citizen president?” asked Fouché.

“None, citizen minister,” replied the president. “If the Directory judges it advisable to issue any orders, it will be to men whom it esteems worthy of its confidence. You may return to those who sent you,” he added, turning his back upon the minister.

Fouché went, and Gohier immediately rang his bell. An usher entered.

“Go to Barras, Sièyes, Ducos, and Moulins, and request them to come to me at once. Ah! And at the same time ask Madame Gohier to come into my study, and to bring with her Madame Bonaparte’s letter inviting us to breakfast with her.”

Five minutes later Madame Gohier entered, fully dressed, with the note in her hand. The invitation was for eight o’clock. It was then half-past seven, and it would take at least twenty minutes to drive from the Luxembourg to the Rue de la Victoire.

“Here it is, my dear,” said Madame Gohier, handing the letter to her husband. “It says eight o’clock.”

“Yes,” replied Gohier, “I was not in doubt about the hour, but about the day.”

Taking the note from his wife’s hand, he read it over:

Come, my dear Gohier, with your wife, and breakfast with me to-morrow at eight o’clock. Don’t fail, for I have some very interesting things to tell you.

“Ah,” said Gohier, “there can be no mistake.”

“Well, my dear, are we going?” asked Madame Gohier.

“You are, but not I. An event has just happened about which the citizen Bonaparte is probably well-informed, which will detain my colleagues and myself at the Luxembourg.”

“A serious event?”

“Possibly.”

“Then I shall stay with you.”

“No, indeed; you would not be of any service here. Go to Madame Bonaparte’s. I may be mistaken, but, should anything extraordinary happen, which appears to you alarming, send me word some way or other. Anything will do; I shall understand half a word.”

“Very good, my dear; I will go. The hope of being useful to you is sufficient.”

“Do go!”

Just then the usher entered, and said:

“General Moulins is at my heels; citizen Barras is in his bath, and will soon be here; citizens Sièyes and Ducos went out at five o’clock this morning, and have not yet returned.”

“They are the two traitors!” said Gohier; “Barras is only their dupe.” Then kissing his wife, he added: “Now, go.”

As she turned round, Madame Gohier came face to face with General Moulins. He, for his character was naturally impetuous, seemed furious.

“Pardon me, citizeness,” he said. Then, rushing into Gohier’s study, he cried: “Do you know what has happened, president?”