Sebastien cast down his large eyes to conceal his tears.
Pitou was weighing and jingling his louis in his immense pocket.
Gilbert gave a letter to Pitou, who was thus installed in his functions, pro tem., of tutor.
This letter was for the Abbé Fortier.
The doctor’s harangue being terminated, Billot spoke in his turn.
“Monsieur Gilbert,” said he, “has confided to you the health of Sebastien; I will confide to you his personal safety. You have a pair of stout fists; in case of need, make good use of them.”
“Yes,” said Pitou; “and besides them, I have a sabre.”
“Do not make an abuse of that.”
“I will be merciful,” said Pitou; “clemens ero.”
“A hero, if you will,” repeated Billot, but not intending to say it jeeringly.
“And now,” said Gilbert, “I will point out to you the way in which you and Sebastien should travel.”
“Oh!” cried Pitou, “it is only eighteen leagues from Paris to Villers-Cotterets; we will talk all the way, Sebastien and I.”
Sebastien looked at his father, as if to ask him whether it would be very amusing to talk during the journey of eighteen leagues with Pitou.
Pitou caught this glance.
“We will speak Latin,” said he, “and we shall be taken for learned men.”
This was the dream of his ambition, the innocent creature.
How many others with ten double louis in their pocket, would have said:—
“We will buy gingerbread.”
Gilbert appeared for a moment to be in doubt.
He looked at Pitou, then at Billot.
“I understand you,” said the latter; “you are asking yourself whether Pitou is a proper guide, and you hesitate to confide your child to him.”
“Oh!” said Gilbert, “it is not to him that I confide him.”
“To whom, then?”
Gilbert looked up to heaven; he was still too much a Voltairean to dare to reply:—
“To God!”
And the affair was settled. They resolved, in consequence, not to make any change in Pitou’s plan, which promised, without exposing him to too much fatigue, a journey replete with amusement to Sebastien; but it was decided they should not commence it until the following morning.
Gilbert might have sent his son to Villers-Cotterets by one of the public conveyances which at that period were running between Paris and the frontiers, or even in his own carriage; but we know how much he feared the isolation of thought for young Sebastien, and nothing so much isolates dreaming people as the motion and rumbling noise of a carriage.
He therefore took the two young travellers as far as Bourget, and then, showing them the open road, on which a brilliant sun was shining, and bordered by a double row of trees, he embraced his son again, and said:—
“Now go!”
Pitou therefore set off, leading Sebastien, who several times turned round to blow kisses to his father, who was standing, his arms crossed, upon the spot where he had taken leave of his son, following him with his eyes as if he were following a dream.
Pitou raised himself to the full height of his extraordinary stature. Pitou was very proud of the confidence reposed in him by a person of Monsieur Gilbert’s importance,—one of the king’s physicians-in-ordinary.
Pitou prepared himself scrupulously to fulfil the task intrusted to him, which combined the functions of a tutor and almost those of a governess.
Moreover, it was with full confidence in himself that he was conducting little Sebastien; he travelled very quietly, passing through villages which were all in commotion and terror since the events at Paris, which had only just occurred,—for although we have brought up these events to the 5th and 6th of October, it must be remembered that it was towards the end of July or the beginning of August that Pitou and Sebastien left Paris.
Besides this, Pitou had retained his helmet for a headdress, and his long sabre as a defensive weapon.
These were all that he had gained by the events of the 13th and 14th of July; but this twofold trophy satisfied his ambition, and by giving him a formidable air, at the same time sufficed for his safety.
Moreover, this formidable air, to which indubitably the helmet and dragoon’s sabre greatly contributed, Pitou had acquired independently of them. A man has not assisted in taking the Bastille, he has not even merely been present at it, without having retained something heroic in his deportment.