# The Mystery of Madeline Le Blanc/Chapter 1

I.
It is the year 1830.
"See who is at the door, Madeline."
"Which door, father? I did not hear any knocking."
"I thought it was the front—didn't you, Doctor?"
"I was not listening."
The front door opened, and in walked a young man clad in military uniform.
"Oh! it is Joseph," cried the girl, running into his arms. "But why do you wear your uniform? Surely, you do not drill today. And you have not even one smile for me?" she continued, roguishly looking into his face.
The young man held the girl for a moment, then releasing her, he turned to the two men at the table, and was about to address them, when the father interrupted.
"Come, my lad, and taste the wine ​with us." Pouring out the sparkling liquid, and turning to the other gentleman, the father continued: "These young men are very cunning, Doctor. See how they decorate themselves in times of peace; but it is all for the young ladies. It is the principle of the peacock."
"Yes, the peacock," echoed the doctor, draining his glass.
"Lad, this is Doctor Satiani, who is now a resident of our town, and who will henceforth cure us of our ills."
"I am sorry that our acquaintance must be so brief," said the young man, with an expression of terror in his face; "but we must—there is—" he stammered and stopped.
"Joseph, Joseph, what is it?" cried Madeline, growing pale at his appearance and manner.
The father turned toward him, and the sharp eyes of the doctor stared unpleasantly.
"There is war in Paris—an outbreak—'revolution,' they say; and we go thither in an hour. I have come to say good-by."
"You are going to join the king?" de​manded the father, with gathering indignation and astonishment, while Madeline stood in bewilderment looking at the three men, each of whose faces betrayed a different emotion.
"Never, we join the People against a tyrant!"
"Give me your hand, lad; I should have known you were no traitor to the cause of liberty."
At these sentiments of the father the doctor's eyes flashed, and his dark-featured face clouded with wrinkles.
"Do not look so, Madeline," said the young man, trying to comfort the girl; but with poor success, for his own heart was heavy. "It will all be ended soon." He took her arm, and led her into the garden, but she could not restrain the tears that ran down her face.
"At last the People have come to their senses," said the father to the doctor. "France must be rid of this monster. It is now fifteen years since Waterloo. And during this time what have we had? Nothing but misrule and conspiracy! What does this mean? It means that France must down with monarchy and ​establish a republic, We shall never rest until she does!"
Doctor Satiani was silent; but his countenance showed how painfully these sentences lashed him. Long necessity and bitter disappointments had taught him to control his words; but could not prevent his blood, which had once been of the chosen few, from rising to his temples.
"What was Louis XVIII.?" continued the father. " What is Charles X. but a selfish, grinding cur? Who knows what this July, 1830, will bring—who knows!" and in his ecstasy he arose to his full height, as if to examine his strength and convince himself that he could fight again for the people of his beloved France.
With each sentence Satiani crouched more and more within himself. Each sentence stung him to the quick; but he was silent, like a whipped beast. At length, without ceremony, he took his hat and walked to the door.
"Do you go so soon?" inquired Monsieur Le Blanc, recovering from his.temper.
​The doctor bowed, made an unintelligible answer, and left.
Joseph and Madeline, arm in arm, were walking in the garden.
It was summer, the month of July. The winter had lingered longer than usual, so that it was really only spring. The apple and pear trees had but shed their blossoms, and the flowers were just beginning to peep from their winter's nest. Except the gathering of the people about the Hôtel de Ville, nothing suggested the scenes that were soon to be shifted in Paris. The town, like other small communities, was always quiet enough in its way; even nature here seemed more languid than elsewhere.
​What was in poor Madeline's mind? "Don't go, Joseph," she begged.
"I shall come back sooner, perhaps, than you think. See, I have brought you this, Madeline, to pledge my love again," and he placed around her neck a rosary of pearls bearing a golden crucifix. " May I be remembered in your prayers."
"Yes, in every one; but I pray now that you don't go."
"You would not have me stay when it is my duty to go?"
"Yes, yes, I would have you stay. There is always fighting in Paris. Is Paris never satisfied?"
"It is not for Paris, Madeline; it is for The People—for justice and for liberty."
"What shall I do when you are gone! I know you will never come back." She remembered the many stories she had heard from widows and from fatherless playmates of her childhood. Her heart was too heavy to say more; the words would not come. She buried her face on his shoulder and began to cry.
Joseph kissed her hair: they were betrothed.
​The roll of distant drums signaled the time for departure.
"Let me take you into the house," said he, "I must be gone."
"No, no, I am going with you to where the company congregates."
"Shall I get your hat?"
"No, of what need is a hat!"
They hurried off in the direction of the drums. Instead of retarding Joseph's steps, Madeline kept steadily by his side, holding his arm with a firm grip. They reached the Hôtel de Ville, where people were saying good-by, and last embraces, kisses and farewells were being given, as in the days of the Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars. They passed friends and were passed by them, but the excitement was such that nobody knew anybody else. Each one had his burden of sorrow, that after scarcely a generation of peace, the human carnival was again to begin, that the blood of the sons of France was again to be shed in fratricidal strife. Among others they passed Doctor Satiani standing on the outskirts of the crowd.
At the ranks which were now beginning to move away, Joseph took Madeline's ​hand, looked a moment into her eyes, kissed her, and said, "Good-by."
"Good-by," she called, running by his side, "Good-by!" A change had come over her. She had the pallor of a marble figure, and her eyes fairly glared.
"Why," inquired her friends of one another, "what does Madeline Le Blanc mean, running and calling so."
"Good-by," she called again, loud enough for hundreds to hear, "Kill the King for The People!" She stopped suddenly, threw her arms into the air and sank to the ground, almost at the feet of Doctor Satiani, with the words "Kill the King!" on her lips.
Joseph saw nothing of what had happened, but marched on to await the arbitraments of war.
The crowd gathered round Madeline and raised her from the ground.
"Who is this girl?" was the inquiry.
The question was asked Doctor Satiani.
"How should I know? I have no rebels among my friends," he growled in reply.
"Rebels, Rebels!" the men and boys shouted, "He calls us rebels!" and sev​eral seized him, while one dealt a vicious stroke on his chin.
Satiani extricated himself from the grasp of his assailants; at the same moment, while some women were holding the unconscious girl, a voice shouted, "It is Monsieur Le Blanc's daughter." At this the crowd turned its attention toward Madeline, and Doctor Satiani disappeared.
Still unconscious, she was carried home. The father had followed the company of soldiers, so that there was no one at the cottage save Madeline's mother. She fell to weeping bitterly, as she caressed the white, corpse-like figure.
"It was as the soldiers were marching away," said Irène, a girl with eyes and hair as black as a raven's wing, who had followed the sorrowful burden from the Hôtel de Ville. Everything was told the mother, but she would not be comforted; the father had not yet returned, and poor Madeline's face, which had never very much color, lay white and smooth like the face of a wax figure, amid her curly tresses that looked all the more golden by the awful contrast.
Several women of the neighborhood ​came in, and the strangers disappeared. Some began to rub her wrists; others tried to comfort the mother, who was almost overcome. Madeline was her only child, and had been something like an angel in a house where the father was not always as gentle as he might have been. The mother, who had watched and cared for her all through the uncertainties of childhood, and who was soon to see her married to the noble young Joseph, could not bear up under the terror of the motionless sight of what had been her greatest comfort through the years of her life since she herself had grown from girlhood into the meridian of maternity. "Madeline, Madeline," she cried, wringing her hands, "wake up, Madeline! It is I who call you!"
But Madeline did not wake up.
Amid all the confusion, Irène thought to go in search of the father. She ran after the soldiers; but they had been marching for some time, and were far advanced. Her determination was as strong as her well-knit figure was able to hasten along. She passed out of the main thoroughfare of the town, and began to ascend ​a hill to the south. The soldiers could not be seen; they had gone down the other side, yet on she sped. Presently, she caught sight of the men returning who, in their enthusiasm for the cause of The People, had followed the company. One of these was Monsieur Le Blanc, toward whom she directed her steps.