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diff --git a/1752-h/1752-h.htm b/1752-h/1752-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8616cb --- /dev/null +++ b/1752-h/1752-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,17754 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + El Dorado, by Baroness Orczy + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of El Dorado, by Baroness Orczy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: El Dorado + +Author: Baroness Orczy + +Release Date: October 15, 2008 [EBook #1752] +Last Updated: February 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DORADO *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + EL DORADO + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Baroness Orczy + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_FORE" id="link2H_FORE"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + FOREWORD + </h2> + <p> + There has of late years crept so much confusion into the mind of the + student as well as of the general reader as to the identity of the Scarlet + Pimpernel with that of the Gascon Royalist plotter known to history as the + Baron de Batz, that the time seems opportune for setting all doubts on + that subject at rest. + </p> + <p> + The identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel is in no way whatever connected with + that of the Baron de Batz, and even superficial reflection will soon bring + the mind to the conclusion that great fundamental differences existed in + these two men, in their personality, in their character, and, above all, + in their aims. + </p> + <p> + According to one or two enthusiastic historians, the Baron de Batz was the + chief agent in a vast network of conspiracy, entirely supported by foreign + money—both English and Austrian—and which had for its object + the overthrow of the Republican Government and the restoration of the + monarchy in France. + </p> + <p> + In order to attain this political goal, it is averred that he set himself + the task of pitting the members of the revolutionary Government one + against the other, and bringing hatred and dissensions amongst them, until + the cry of “Traitor!” resounded from one end of the Assembly of the + Convention to the other, and the Assembly itself became as one vast den of + wild beasts wherein wolves and hyenas devoured one another and, still + unsatiated, licked their streaming jaws hungering for more prey. + </p> + <p> + Those same enthusiastic historians, who have a firm belief in the + so-called “Foreign Conspiracy,” ascribe every important event of the Great + Revolution—be that event the downfall of the Girondins, the escape + of the Dauphin from the Temple, or the death of Robespierre—to the + intrigues of Baron de Batz. He it was, so they say, who egged the Jacobins + on against the Mountain, Robespierre against Danton, Hebert against + Robespierre. He it was who instigated the massacres of September, the + atrocities of Nantes, the horrors of Thermidor, the sacrileges, the + noyades: all with the view of causing every section of the National + Assembly to vie with the other in excesses and in cruelty, until the + makers of the Revolution, satiated with their own lust, turned on one + another, and Sardanapalus-like buried themselves and their orgies in the + vast hecatomb of a self-consumed anarchy. + </p> + <p> + Whether the power thus ascribed to Baron de Batz by his historians is real + or imaginary it is not the purpose of this preface to investigate. Its + sole object is to point out the difference between the career of this + plotter and that of the Scarlet Pimpernel. + </p> + <p> + The Baron de Batz himself was an adventurer without substance, save that + which he derived from abroad. He was one of those men who have nothing to + lose and everything to gain by throwing themselves headlong in the + seething cauldron of internal politics. + </p> + <p> + Though he made several attempts at rescuing King Louis first, and then the + Queen and Royal Family from prison and from death, he never succeeded, as + we know, in any of these undertakings, and he never once so much as + attempted the rescue of other equally innocent, if not quite so + distinguished, victims of the most bloodthirsty revolution that has ever + shaken the foundations of the civilised world. + </p> + <p> + Nay more; when on the 29th Prairial those unfortunate men and women were + condemned and executed for alleged complicity in the so-called “Foreign + Conspiracy,” de Batz, who is universally admitted to have been the head + and prime-mover of that conspiracy—if, indeed, conspiracy there was—never + made either the slightest attempt to rescue his confederates from the + guillotine, or at least the offer to perish by their side if he could not + succeed in saving them. + </p> + <p> + And when we remember that the martyrs of the 29th Prairial included women + like Grandmaison, the devoted friend of de Batz, the beautiful Emilie de + St. Amaranthe, little Cecile Renault—a mere child not sixteen years + of age—also men like Michonis and Roussell, faithful servants of de + Batz, the Baron de Lezardiere, and the Comte de St. Maurice, his friends, + we no longer can have the slightest doubt that the Gascon plotter and the + English gentleman are indeed two very different persons. + </p> + <p> + The latter’s aims were absolutely non-political. He never intrigued for + the restoration of the monarchy, or even for the overthrow of that + Republic which he loathed. + </p> + <p> + His only concern was the rescue of the innocent, the stretching out of a + saving hand to those unfortunate creatures who had fallen into the nets + spread out for them by their fellow-men; by those who—godless, + lawless, penniless themselves—had sworn to exterminate all those who + clung to their belongings, to their religion, and to their beliefs. + </p> + <p> + The Scarlet Pimpernel did not take it upon himself to punish the guilty; + his care was solely of the helpless and of the innocent. + </p> + <p> + For this aim he risked his life every time that he set foot on French + soil, for it he sacrificed his fortune, and even his personal happiness, + and to it he devoted his entire existence. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, whereas the French plotter is said to have had confederates even + in the Assembly of the Convention, confederates who were sufficiently + influential and powerful to secure his own immunity, the Englishman when + he was bent on his errands of mercy had the whole of France against him. + </p> + <p> + The Baron de Batz was a man who never justified either his own ambitions + or even his existence; the Scarlet Pimpernel was a personality of whom an + entire nation might justly be proud. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_FORE"> FOREWORD </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> <b>PART I.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. IN THE THEATRE NATIONAL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. WIDELY DIVERGENT AIMS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. THE DEMON CHANCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. MADEMOISELLE LANGE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. THE TEMPLE PRISON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. THE COMMITTEE’S AGENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. THE MOST PRECIOUS LIFE IN EUROPE + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. ARCADES AMBO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. WHAT LOVE CAN DO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. SHADOWS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. WHAT LOVE IS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. THEN EVERYTHING WAS DARK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. THE CHIEF </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. THE GATE OF LA VILLETTE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. THE WEARY SEARCH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. CHAUVELIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. THE REMOVAL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. IT IS ABOUT THE DAUPHIN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. THE CERTIFICATE OF SAFETY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. BACK TO PARIS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. OF THAT THERE COULD BE NO + QUESTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. THE OVERWHELMING ODDS </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <b>PART II.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. THE NEWS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. PARIS ONCE MORE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. THE BITTEREST FOE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. IN THE CONCIERGERIE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. THE CAGED LION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. FOR THE SAKE OF THAT HELPLESS + INNOCENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. AFTERWARDS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. AN INTERLUDE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. SISTERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. LITTLE MOTHER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. THE LETTER </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART3"> <b>PART III.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. THE LAST PHASE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. SUBMISSION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. CHAUVELIN’S ADVICE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. CAPITULATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. KILL HIM! </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. GOD HELP US ALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. WHEN HOPE WAS DEAD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. THE GUARD-HOUSE OF THE RUE STE. + ANNE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. THE DREARY JOURNEY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. THE HALT AT CRECY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. THE FOREST OF BOULOGNE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI. OTHERS IN THE PARK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII. THE CHAPEL OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII. THE WANING MOON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + PART I. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. IN THE THEATRE NATIONAL + </h2> + <p> + And yet people found the opportunity to amuse themselves, to dance and to + go to the theatre, to enjoy music and open-air cafes and promenades in the + Palais Royal. + </p> + <p> + New fashions in dress made their appearance, milliners produced fresh + “creations,” and jewellers were not idle. A grim sense of humour, born of + the very intensity of ever-present danger, had dubbed the cut of certain + tunics “tete tranche,” or a favourite ragout was called “a la guillotine.” + </p> + <p> + On three evenings only during the past memorable four and a half years did + the theatres close their doors, and these evenings were the ones + immediately following that terrible 2nd of September the day of the + butchery outside the Abbaye prison, when Paris herself was aghast with + horror, and the cries of the massacred might have drowned the calls of the + audience whose hands upraised for plaudits would still be dripping with + blood. + </p> + <p> + On all other evenings of these same four and a half years the theatres in + the Rue de Richelieu, in the Palais Royal, the Luxembourg, and others, had + raised their curtains and taken money at their doors. The same audience + that earlier in the day had whiled away the time by witnessing the + ever-recurrent dramas of the Place de la Revolution assembled here in the + evenings and filled stalls, boxes, and tiers, laughing over the satires of + Voltaire or weeping over the sentimental tragedies of persecuted Romeos + and innocent Juliets. + </p> + <p> + Death knocked at so many doors these days! He was so constant a guest in + the houses of relatives and friends that those who had merely shaken him + by the hand, those on whom he had smiled, and whom he, still smiling, had + passed indulgently by, looked on him with that subtle contempt born of + familiarity, shrugged their shoulders at his passage, and envisaged his + probable visit on the morrow with lighthearted indifference. + </p> + <p> + Paris—despite the horrors that had stained her walls had remained a + city of pleasure, and the knife of the guillotine did scarce descend more + often than did the drop-scenes on the stage. + </p> + <p> + On this bitterly cold evening of the 27th Nivose, in the second year of + the Republic—or, as we of the old style still persist in calling it, + the 16th of January, 1794—the auditorium of the Theatre National was + filled with a very brilliant company. + </p> + <p> + The appearance of a favourite actress in the part of one of Moliere’s + volatile heroines had brought pleasure-loving Paris to witness this + revival of “Le Misanthrope,” with new scenery, dresses, and the aforesaid + charming actress to add piquancy to the master’s mordant wit. + </p> + <p> + The Moniteur, which so impartially chronicles the events of those times, + tells us under that date that the Assembly of the Convention voted on that + same day a new law giving fuller power to its spies, enabling them to + effect domiciliary searches at their discretion without previous reference + to the Committee of General Security, authorising them to proceed against + all enemies of public happiness, to send them to prison at their own + discretion, and assuring them the sum of thirty-five livres “for every + piece of game thus beaten up for the guillotine.” Under that same date the + Moniteur also puts it on record that the Theatre National was filled to + its utmost capacity for the revival of the late citoyen Moliere’s comedy. + </p> + <p> + The Assembly of the Convention having voted the new law which placed the + lives of thousands at the mercy of a few human bloodhounds, adjourned its + sitting and proceeded to the Rue de Richelieu. + </p> + <p> + Already the house was full when the fathers of the people made their way + to the seats which had been reserved for them. An awed hush descended on + the throng as one by one the men whose very names inspired horror and + dread filed in through the narrow gangways of the stalls or took their + places in the tiny boxes around. + </p> + <p> + Citizen Robespierre’s neatly bewigged head soon appeared in one of these; + his bosom friend St. Just was with him, and also his sister Charlotte. + Danton, like a big, shaggy-coated lion, elbowed his way into the stalls, + whilst Sauterre, the handsome butcher and idol of the people of Paris, was + loudly acclaimed as his huge frame, gorgeously clad in the uniform of the + National Guard, was sighted on one of the tiers above. + </p> + <p> + The public in the parterre and in the galleries whispered excitedly; the + awe-inspiring names flew about hither and thither on the wings of the + overheated air. Women craned their necks to catch sight of heads which + mayhap on the morrow would roll into the gruesome basket at the foot of + the guillotine. + </p> + <p> + In one of the tiny avant-scene boxes two men had taken their seats long + before the bulk of the audience had begun to assemble in the house. The + inside of the box was in complete darkness, and the narrow opening which + allowed but a sorry view of one side of the stage helped to conceal rather + than display the occupants. + </p> + <p> + The younger one of these two men appeared to be something of a stranger in + Paris, for as the public men and the well-known members of the Government + began to arrive he often turned to his companion for information regarding + these notorious personalities. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, de Batz,” he said, calling the other’s attention to a group of + men who had just entered the house, “that creature there in the green coat—with + his hand up to his face now—who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Where? Which do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “There! He looks this way now, and he has a playbill in his hand. The man + with the protruding chin and the convex forehead, a face like a marmoset, + and eyes like a jackal. What?” + </p> + <p> + The other leaned over the edge of the box, and his small, restless eyes + wandered over the now closely-packed auditorium. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he said as soon as he recognised the face which his friend had + pointed out to him, “that is citizen Foucquier-Tinville.” + </p> + <p> + “The Public Prosecutor?” + </p> + <p> + “Himself. And Heron is the man next to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Heron?” said the younger man interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He is chief agent to the Committee of General Security now.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean?” + </p> + <p> + Both leaned back in their chairs, and their sombrely-clad figures were + once more merged in the gloom of the narrow box. Instinctively, since the + name of the Public Prosecutor had been mentioned between them, they had + allowed their voices to sink to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + The older man—a stoutish, florid-looking individual, with small, + keen eyes, and skin pitted with small-pox—shrugged his shoulders at + his friend’s question, and then said with an air of contemptuous + indifference: + </p> + <p> + “It means, my good St. Just, that these two men whom you see down there, + calmly conning the programme of this evening’s entertainment, and + preparing to enjoy themselves to-night in the company of the late M. de + Moliere, are two hell-hounds as powerful as they are cunning.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said St. Just, and much against his will a slight shudder ran + through his slim figure as he spoke. “Foucquier-Tinville I know; I know + his cunning, and I know his power—but the other?” + </p> + <p> + “The other?” retorted de Batz lightly. “Heron? Let me tell you, my friend, + that even the might and lust of that damned Public Prosecutor pale before + the power of Heron!” + </p> + <p> + “But how? I do not understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you have been in England so long, you lucky dog, and though no doubt + the main plot of our hideous tragedy has reached your ken, you have no + cognisance of the actors who play the principal parts on this arena + flooded with blood and carpeted with hate. They come and go, these actors, + my good St. Just—they come and go. Marat is already the man of + yesterday, Robespierre is the man of to-morrow. To-day we still have + Danton and Foucquier-Tinville; we still have Pere Duchesne, and your own + good cousin Antoine St. Just, but Heron and his like are with us always.” + </p> + <p> + “Spies, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Spies,” assented the other. “And what spies! Were you present at the + sitting of the Assembly to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I was. I heard the new decree which already has passed into law. Ah! I + tell you, friend, that we do not let the grass grow under our feet these + days. Robespierre wakes up one morning with a whim; by the afternoon that + whim has become law, passed by a servile body of men too terrified to run + counter to his will, fearful lest they be accused of moderation or of + humanity—the greatest crimes that can be committed nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “But Danton?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Danton? He would wish to stem the tide that his own passions have let + loose; to muzzle the raging beasts whose fangs he himself has sharpened. I + told you that Danton is still the man of to-day; to-morrow he will be + accused of moderation. Danton and moderation!—ye gods! Eh? Danton, + who thought the guillotine too slow in its work, and armed thirty soldiers + with swords, so that thirty heads might fall at one and the same time. + Danton, friend, will perish to-morrow accused of treachery against the + Revolution, of moderation towards her enemies; and curs like Heron will + feast on the blood of lions like Danton and his crowd.” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment, for he dared not raise his voice, and his whispers + were being drowned by the noise in the auditorium. The curtain, timed to + be raised at eight o’clock, was still down, though it was close on + half-past, and the public was growing impatient. There was loud stamping + of feet, and a few shrill whistles of disapproval proceeded from the + gallery. + </p> + <p> + “If Heron gets impatient,” said de Batz lightly, when the noise had + momentarily subsided, “the manager of this theatre and mayhap his leading + actor and actress will spend an unpleasant day to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Always Heron!” said St. Just, with a contemptuous smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friend,” rejoined the other imperturbably, “always Heron. And he + has even obtained a longer lease of existence this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “By the new decree?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The new decree. The agents of the Committee of General Security, of + whom Heron is the chief, have from to-day powers of domiciliary search; + they have full powers to proceed against all enemies of public welfare. + Isn’t that beautifully vague? And they have absolute discretion; every one + may become an enemy of public welfare, either by spending too much money + or by spending too little, by laughing to-day or crying to-morrow, by + mourning for one dead relative or rejoicing over the execution of another. + He may be a bad example to the public by the cleanliness of his person or + by the filth upon his clothes, he may offend by walking to-day and by + riding in a carriage next week; the agents of the Committee of General + Security shall alone decide what constitutes enmity against public + welfare. All prisons are to be opened at their bidding to receive those + whom they choose to denounce; they have henceforth the right to examine + prisoners privately and without witnesses, and to send them to trial + without further warrants; their duty is clear—they must ‘beat up + game for the guillotine.’ Thus is the decree worded; they must furnish the + Public Prosecutor with work to do, the tribunals with victims to condemn, + the Place de la Revolution with death-scenes to amuse the people, and for + their work they will be rewarded thirty-five livres for every head that + falls under the guillotine Ah! if Heron and his like and his myrmidons + work hard and well they can make a comfortable income of four or five + thousand livres a week. We are getting on, friend St. Just—we are + getting on.” + </p> + <p> + He had not raised his voice while he spoke, nor in the recounting of such + inhuman monstrosity, such vile and bloodthirsty conspiracy against the + liberty, the dignity, the very life of an entire nation, did he appear to + feel the slightest indignation; rather did a tone of amusement and even of + triumph strike through his speech; and now he laughed good-humouredly like + an indulgent parent who is watching the naturally cruel antics of a spoilt + boy. + </p> + <p> + “Then from this hell let loose upon earth,” exclaimed St. Just hotly, + “must we rescue those who refuse to ride upon this tide of blood.” + </p> + <p> + His cheeks were glowing, his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. He looked very + young and very eager. Armand St. Just, the brother of Lady Blakeney, had + something of the refined beauty of his lovely sister, but the features + though manly—had not the latent strength expressed in them which + characterised every line of Marguerite’s exquisite face. The forehead + suggested a dreamer rather than a thinker, the blue-grey eyes were those + of an idealist rather than of a man of action. + </p> + <p> + De Batz’s keen piercing eyes had no doubt noted this, even whilst he gazed + at his young friend with that same look of good-humoured indulgence which + seemed habitual to him. + </p> + <p> + “We have to think of the future, my good St. Just,” he said after a slight + pause, and speaking slowly and decisively, like a father rebuking a + hot-headed child, “not of the present. What are a few lives worth beside + the great principles which we have at stake?” + </p> + <p> + “The restoration of the monarchy—I know,” retorted St. Just, still + unsobered, “but, in the meanwhile—” + </p> + <p> + “In the meanwhile,” rejoined de Batz earnestly, “every victim to the lust + of these men is a step towards the restoration of law and order—that + is to say, of the monarchy. It is only through these violent excesses + perpetrated in its name that the nation will realise how it is being + fooled by a set of men who have only their own power and their own + advancement in view, and who imagine that the only way to that power is + over the dead bodies of those who stand in their way. Once the nation is + sickened by these orgies of ambition and of hate, it will turn against + these savage brutes, and gladly acclaim the restoration of all that they + are striving to destroy. This is our only hope for the future, and, + believe me, friend, that every head snatched from the guillotine by your + romantic hero, the Scarlet Pimpernel, is a stone laid for the + consolidation of this infamous Republic.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not believe it,” protested St. Just emphatically. + </p> + <p> + De Batz, with a gesture of contempt indicative also of complete + self-satisfaction and unalterable self-belief, shrugged his broad + shoulders. His short fat fingers, covered with rings, beat a tattoo upon + the ledge of the box. + </p> + <p> + Obviously, he was ready with a retort. His young friend’s attitude + irritated even more than it amused him. But he said nothing for the + moment, waiting while the traditional three knocks on the floor of the + stage proclaimed the rise of the curtain. The growing impatience of the + audience subsided as if by magic at the welcome call; everybody settled + down again comfortably in their seats, they gave up the contemplation of + the fathers of the people, and turned their full attention to the actors + on the boards. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. WIDELY DIVERGENT AIMS + </h2> + <p> + This was Armand S. Just’s first visit to Paris since that memorable day + when first he decided to sever his connection from the Republican party, + of which he and his beautiful sister Marguerite had at one time been + amongst the most noble, most enthusiastic followers. Already a year and a + half ago the excesses of the party had horrified him, and that was long + before they had degenerated into the sickening orgies which were + culminating to-day in wholesale massacres and bloody hecatombs of innocent + victims. + </p> + <p> + With the death of Mirabeau the moderate Republicans, whose sole and + entirely pure aim had been to free the people of France from the + autocratic tyranny of the Bourbons, saw the power go from their clean + hands to the grimy ones of lustful demagogues, who knew no law save their + own passions of bitter hatred against all classes that were not as + self-seeking, as ferocious as themselves. + </p> + <p> + It was no longer a question of a fight for political and religious liberty + only, but one of class against class, man against man, and let the weaker + look to himself. The weaker had proved himself to be, firstly, the man of + property and substance, then the law-abiding citizen, lastly the man of + action who had obtained for the people that very same liberty of thought + and of belief which soon became so terribly misused. + </p> + <p> + Armand St. Just, one of the apostles of liberty, fraternity, and equality, + soon found that the most savage excesses of tyranny were being perpetrated + in the name of those same ideals which he had worshipped. + </p> + <p> + His sister Marguerite, happily married in England, was the final + temptation which caused him to quit the country the destinies of which he + no longer could help to control. The spark of enthusiasm which he and the + followers of Mirabeau had tried to kindle in the hearts of an oppressed + people had turned to raging tongues of unquenchable flames. The taking of + the Bastille had been the prelude to the massacres of September, and even + the horror of these had since paled beside the holocausts of to-day. + </p> + <p> + Armand, saved from the swift vengeance of the revolutionaries by the + devotion of the Scarlet Pimpernel, crossed over to England and enrolled + himself under the banner of the heroic chief. But he had been unable + hitherto to be an active member of the League. The chief was loath to + allow him to run foolhardy risks. The St. Justs—both Marguerite and + Armand—were still very well-known in Paris. Marguerite was not a + woman easily forgotten, and her marriage with an English “aristo” did not + please those republican circles who had looked upon her as their queen. + Armand’s secession from his party into the ranks of the emigres had + singled him out for special reprisals, if and whenever he could be got + hold of, and both brother and sister had an unusually bitter enemy in + their cousin Antoine St. Just—once an aspirant to Marguerite’s hand, + and now a servile adherent and imitator of Robespierre, whose ferocious + cruelty he tried to emulate with a view to ingratiating himself with the + most powerful man of the day. + </p> + <p> + Nothing would have pleased Antoine St. Just more than the opportunity of + showing his zeal and his patriotism by denouncing his own kith and kin to + the Tribunal of the Terror, and the Scarlet Pimpernel, whose own slender + fingers were held on the pulse of that reckless revolution, had no wish to + sacrifice Armand’s life deliberately, or even to expose it to unnecessary + dangers. + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that more than a year had gone by before Armand St. Just—an + enthusiastic member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel—was able + to do aught for its service. He had chafed under the enforced restraint + placed upon him by the prudence of his chief, when, indeed, he was longing + to risk his life with the comrades whom he loved and beside the leader + whom he revered. + </p> + <p> + At last, in the beginning of ‘94 he persuaded Blakeney to allow him to + join the next expedition to France. What the principal aim of that + expedition was the members of the League did not know as yet, but what + they did know was that perils—graver even than hitherto—would + attend them on their way. + </p> + <p> + The circumstances had become very different of late. At first the + impenetrable mystery which had surrounded the personality of the chief had + been a full measure of safety, but now one tiny corner of that veil of + mystery had been lifted by two rough pairs of hands at least; Chauvelin, + ex-ambassador at the English Court, was no longer in any doubt as to the + identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel, whilst Collot d’Herbois had seen him at + Boulogne, and had there been effectually foiled by him. + </p> + <p> + Four months had gone by since that day, and the Scarlet Pimpernel was + hardly ever out of France now; the massacres in Paris and in the provinces + had multiplied with appalling rapidity, the necessity for the selfless + devotion of that small band of heroes had become daily, hourly more + pressing. They rallied round their chief with unbounded enthusiasm, and + let it be admitted at once that the sporting instinct—inherent in + these English gentlemen—made them all the more keen, all the more + eager now that the dangers which beset their expeditions were increased + tenfold. + </p> + <p> + At a word from the beloved leader, these young men—the spoilt + darlings of society—would leave the gaieties, the pleasures, the + luxuries of London or of Bath, and, taking their lives in their hands, + they placed them, together with their fortunes, and even their good names, + at the service of the innocent and helpless victims of merciless tyranny. + The married men—Ffoulkes, my Lord Hastings, Sir Jeremiah Wallescourt—left + wife and children at a call from the chief, at the cry of the wretched. + Armand—unattached and enthusiastic—had the right to demand + that he should no longer be left behind. + </p> + <p> + He had only been away a little over fifteen months, and yet he found Paris + a different city from the one he had left immediately after the terrible + massacres of September. An air of grim loneliness seemed to hang over her + despite the crowds that thronged her streets; the men whom he was wont to + meet in public places fifteen months ago—friends and political + allies—were no longer to be seen; strange faces surrounded him on + every side—sullen, glowering faces, all wearing a certain air of + horrified surprise and of vague, terrified wonder, as if life had become + one awful puzzle, the answer to which must be found in the brief interval + between the swift passages of death. + </p> + <p> + Armand St. Just, having settled his few simple belongings in the squalid + lodgings which had been assigned to him, had started out after dark to + wander somewhat aimlessly through the streets. Instinctively he seemed to + be searching for a familiar face, some one who would come to him out of + that merry past which he had spent with Marguerite in their pretty + apartment in the Rue St. Honore. + </p> + <p> + For an hour he wandered thus and met no one whom he knew. At times it + appeared to him as if he did recognise a face or figure that passed him + swiftly by in the gloom, but even before he could fully make up his mind + to that, the face or figure had already disappeared, gliding furtively + down some narrow unlighted by-street, without turning to look to right or + left, as if dreading fuller recognition. Armand felt a total stranger in + his own native city. + </p> + <p> + The terrible hours of the execution on the Place de la Revolution were + fortunately over, the tumbrils no longer rattled along the uneven + pavements, nor did the death-cry of the unfortunate victims resound + through the deserted streets. Armand was, on this first day of his + arrival, spared the sight of this degradation of the once lovely city; but + her desolation, her general appearance of shamefaced indigence and of + cruel aloofness struck a chill in the young man’s heart. + </p> + <p> + It was no wonder, therefore, when anon he was wending his way slowly back + to his lodging he was accosted by a pleasant, cheerful voice, that he + responded to it with alacrity. The voice, of a smooth, oily timbre, as if + the owner kept it well greased for purposes of amiable speech, was like an + echo of the past, when jolly, irresponsible Baron de Batz, erst-while + officer of the Guard in the service of the late King, and since then known + to be the most inveterate conspirator for the restoration of the monarchy, + used to amuse Marguerite by his vapid, senseless plans for the overthrow + of the newly-risen power of the people. + </p> + <p> + Armand was quite glad to meet him, and when de Batz suggested that a good + talk over old times would be vastly agreeable, the younger man gladly + acceded. The two men, though certainly not mistrustful of one another, did + not seem to care to reveal to each other the place where they lodged. De + Batz at once proposed the avant-scene box of one of the theatres as being + the safest place where old friends could talk without fear of spying eyes + or ears. + </p> + <p> + “There is no place so safe or so private nowadays, believe me, my young + friend,” he said, “I have tried every sort of nook and cranny in this + accursed town, now riddled with spies, and I have come to the conclusion + that a small avant-scene box is the most perfect den of privacy there is + in the entire city. The voices of the actors on the stage and the hum + among the audience in the house will effectually drown all individual + conversation to every ear save the one for whom it is intended.” + </p> + <p> + It is not difficult to persuade a young man who feels lonely and somewhat + forlorn in a large city to while away an evening in the companionship of a + cheerful talker, and de Batz was essentially good company. His vapourings + had always been amusing, but Armand now gave him credit for more + seriousness of purpose; and though the chief had warned him against + picking up acquaintances in Paris, the young man felt that that + restriction would certainly not apply to a man like de Batz, whose hot + partisanship of the Royalist cause and hare-brained schemes for its + restoration must make him at one with the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. + </p> + <p> + Armand accepted the other’s cordial invitation. He, too, felt that he + would indeed be safer from observation in a crowded theatre than in the + streets. Among a closely packed throng bent on amusement the sombrely-clad + figure of a young man, with the appearance of a student or of a + journalist, would easily pass unperceived. + </p> + <p> + But somehow, after the first ten minutes spent in de Batz’ company within + the gloomy shelter of the small avant-scene box, Armand already repented + of the impulse which had prompted him to come to the theatre to-night, and + to renew acquaintanceship with the ex-officer of the late King’s Guard. + Though he knew de Batz to be an ardent Royalist, and even an active + adherent of the monarchy, he was soon conscious of a vague sense of + mistrust of this pompous, self-complacent individual, whose every + utterance breathed selfish aims rather than devotion to a forlorn cause. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, when the curtain rose at last on the first act of Moliere’s + witty comedy, St. Just turned deliberately towards the stage and tried to + interest himself in the wordy quarrel between Philinte and Alceste. + </p> + <p> + But this attitude on the part of the younger man did not seem to suit his + newly-found friend. It was clear that de Batz did not consider the topic + of conversation by any means exhausted, and that it had been more with a + view to a discussion like the present interrupted one that he had invited + St. Just to come to the theatre with him to-night, rather than for the + purpose of witnessing Mlle. Lange’s debut in the part of Celimene. + </p> + <p> + The presence of St. Just in Paris had as a matter of fact astonished de + Batz not a little, and had set his intriguing brain busy on conjectures. + It was in order to turn these conjectures into certainties that he had + desired private talk with the young man. + </p> + <p> + He waited silently now for a moment or two, his keen, small eyes resting + with evident anxiety on Armand’s averted head, his fingers still beating + the impatient tattoo upon the velvet-covered cushion of the box. Then at + the first movement of St. Just towards him he was ready in an instant to + re-open the subject under discussion. + </p> + <p> + With a quick nod of his head he called his young friend’s attention back + to the men in the auditorium. + </p> + <p> + “Your good cousin Antoine St. Just is hand and glove with Robespierre + now,” he said. “When you left Paris more than a year ago you could afford + to despise him as an empty-headed windbag; now, if you desire to remain in + France, you will have to fear him as a power and a menace.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I knew that he had taken to herding with the wolves,” rejoined + Armand lightly. “At one time he was in love with my sister. I thank God + that she never cared for him.” + </p> + <p> + “They say that he herds with the wolves because of this disappointment,” + said de Batz. “The whole pack is made up of men who have been + disappointed, and who have nothing more to lose. When all these wolves + will have devoured one another, then and then only can we hope for the + restoration of the monarchy in France. And they will not turn on one + another whilst prey for their greed lies ready to their jaws. Your friend + the Scarlet Pimpernel should feed this bloody revolution of ours rather + than starve it, if indeed he hates it as he seems to do.” + </p> + <p> + His restless eyes peered with eager interrogation into those of the + younger man. He paused as if waiting for a reply; then, as St. Just + remained silent, he reiterated slowly, almost in the tones of a challenge: + </p> + <p> + “If indeed he hates this bloodthirsty revolution of ours as he seems to + do.” + </p> + <p> + The reiteration implied a doubt. In a moment St. Just’s loyalty was up in + arms. + </p> + <p> + “The Scarlet Pimpernel,” he said, “cares naught for your political aims. + The work of mercy that he does, he does for justice and for humanity.” + </p> + <p> + “And for sport,” said de Batz with a sneer, “so I’ve been told.” + </p> + <p> + “He is English,” assented St. Just, “and as such will never own to + sentiment. Whatever be the motive, look at the result! + </p> + <p> + “Yes! a few lives stolen from the guillotine.” + </p> + <p> + “Women and children—innocent victims—would have perished but + for his devotion.” + </p> + <p> + “The more innocent they were, the more helpless, the more pitiable, the + louder would their blood have cried for reprisals against the wild beasts + who sent them to their death.” + </p> + <p> + St. Just made no reply. It was obviously useless to attempt to argue with + this man, whose political aims were as far apart from those of the Scarlet + Pimpernel as was the North Pole from the South. + </p> + <p> + “If any of you have influence over that hot-headed leader of yours,” + continued de Batz, unabashed by the silence of his friend, “I wish to God + you would exert it now.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” queried St. Just, smiling in spite of himself at the + thought of his or any one else’s control over Blakeney and his plans. + </p> + <p> + It was de Batz’ turn to be silent. He paused for a moment or two, then he + asked abruptly: + </p> + <p> + “Your Scarlet Pimpernel is in Paris now, is he not?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you,” replied Armand. + </p> + <p> + “Bah! there is no necessity to fence with me, my friend. The moment I set + eyes on you this afternoon I knew that you had not come to Paris alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, my good de Batz,” rejoined the young man earnestly; “I + came to Paris alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Clever parrying, on my word—but wholly wasted on my unbelieving + ears. Did I not note at once that you did not seem overpleased to-day when + I accosted you?” + </p> + <p> + “Again you are mistaken. I was very pleased to meet you, for I had felt + singularly lonely all day, and was glad to shake a friend by the hand. + What you took for displeasure was only surprise.” + </p> + <p> + “Surprise? Ah, yes! I don’t wonder that you were surprised to see me + walking unmolested and openly in the streets of Paris—whereas you + had heard of me as a dangerous conspirator, eh?—and as a man who has + the entire police of his country at his heels—on whose head there is + a price—what?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew that you had made several noble efforts to rescue the unfortunate + King and Queen from the hands of these brutes.” + </p> + <p> + “All of which efforts were unsuccessful,” assented de Batz imperturbably, + “every one of them having been either betrayed by some d——d + confederate or ferreted out by some astute spy eager for gain. Yes, my + friend, I made several efforts to rescue King Louis and Queen Marie + Antoinette from the scaffold, and every time I was foiled, and yet here I + am, you see, unscathed and free. I walk about the streets boldly, and talk + to my friends as I meet them.” + </p> + <p> + “You are lucky,” said St. Just, not without a tinge of sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “I have been prudent,” retorted de Batz. “I have taken the trouble to make + friends there where I thought I needed them most—the mammon of + unrighteousness, you know-what?” + </p> + <p> + And he laughed a broad, thick laugh of perfect self-satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” rejoined St. Just, with the tone of sarcasm still more + apparent in his voice now. “You have Austrian money at your disposal.” + </p> + <p> + “Any amount,” said the other complacently, “and a great deal of it sticks + to the grimy fingers of these patriotic makers of revolutions. Thus do I + ensure my own safety. I buy it with the Emperor’s money, and thus am I + able to work for the restoration of the monarchy in France.” + </p> + <p> + Again St. Just was silent. What could he say? Instinctively now, as the + fleshy personality of the Gascon Royalist seemed to spread itself out and + to fill the tiny box with his ambitious schemes and his far-reaching + plans, Armand’s thoughts flew back to that other plotter, the man with the + pure and simple aims, the man whose slender fingers had never handled + alien gold, but were ever there ready stretched out to the helpless and + the weak, whilst his thoughts were only of the help that he might give + them, but never of his own safety. + </p> + <p> + De Batz, however, seemed blandly unconscious of any such disparaging + thoughts in the mind of his young friend, for he continued quite amiably, + even though a note of anxiety seemed to make itself felt now in his smooth + voice: + </p> + <p> + “We advance slowly, but step by step, my good St. Just,” he said. “I have + not been able to save the monarchy in the person of the King or the Queen, + but I may yet do it in the person of the Dauphin.” + </p> + <p> + “The Dauphin,” murmured St. Just involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + That involuntary murmur, scarcely audible, so soft was it, seemed in some + way to satisfy de Batz, for the keenness of his gaze relaxed, and his fat + fingers ceased their nervous, intermittent tattoo on the ledge of the box. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! the Dauphin,” he said, nodding his head as if in answer to his own + thoughts, “or rather, let me say, the reigning King of France—Louis + XVII, by the grace of God—the most precious life at present upon the + whole of this earth.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right there, friend de Batz,” assented Armand fervently, “the + most precious life, as you say, and one that must be saved at all costs.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said de Batz calmly, “but not by your friend the Scarlet + Pimpernel.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + Scarce were those two little words out of St. Just’s mouth than he + repented of them. He bit his lip, and with a dark frown upon his face he + turned almost defiantly towards his friend. + </p> + <p> + But de Batz smiled with easy bonhomie. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, friend Armand,” he said, “you were not cut out for diplomacy, nor yet + for intrigue. So then,” he added more seriously, “that gallant hero, the + Scarlet Pimpernel, has hopes of rescuing our young King from the clutches + of Simon the cobbler and of the herd of hyenas on the watch for his + attenuated little corpse, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not say that,” retorted St. Just sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “No. But I say it. Nay! nay! do not blame yourself, my over-loyal young + friend. Could I, or any one else, doubt for a moment that sooner or later + your romantic hero would turn his attention to the most pathetic sight in + the whole of Europe—the child-martyr in the Temple prison? The + wonder were to me if the Scarlet Pimpernel ignored our little King + altogether for the sake of his subjects. No, no; do not think for a moment + that you have betrayed your friend’s secret to me. When I met you so + luckily today I guessed at once that you were here under the banner of the + enigmatical little red flower, and, thus guessing, I even went a step + further in my conjecture. The Scarlet Pimpernel is in Paris now in the + hope of rescuing Louis XVII from the Temple prison.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is so, you must not only rejoice but should be able to help.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, my friend, I do neither the one now nor mean to do the other in + the future,” said de Batz placidly. “I happen to be a Frenchman, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “What has that to do with such a question?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything; though you, Armand, despite that you are a Frenchman too, do + not look through my spectacles. Louis XVII is King of France, my good St. + Just; he must owe his freedom and his life to us Frenchmen, and to no one + else.” + </p> + <p> + “That is sheer madness, man,” retorted Armand. “Would you have the child + perish for the sake of your own selfish ideas?” + </p> + <p> + “You may call them selfish if you will; all patriotism is in a measure + selfish. What does the rest of the world care if we are a republic or a + monarchy, an oligarchy or hopeless anarchy? We work for ourselves and to + please ourselves, and I for one will not brook foreign interference.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you work with foreign money!” + </p> + <p> + “That is another matter. I cannot get money in France, so I get it where I + can; but I can arrange for the escape of Louis XVII from +the Temple Prison, and to us Royalists of France should belong +the honour and glory of having saved our King.” + </p> + <p> + For the third time now St. Just allowed the conversation to drop; he was + gazing wide-eyed, almost appalled at this impudent display of well-nigh + ferocious selfishness and vanity. De Batz, smiling and complacent, was + leaning back in his chair, looking at his young friend with perfect + contentment expressed in every line of his pock-marked face and in the + very attitude of his well-fed body. It was easy enough now to understand + the remarkable immunity which this man was enjoying, despite the many + foolhardy plots which he hatched, and which had up to now invariably come + to naught. + </p> + <p> + A regular braggart and empty windbag, he had taken but one good care, and + that was of his own skin. Unlike other less fortunate Royalists of France, + he neither fought in the country nor braved dangers in town. He played a + safer game—crossed the frontier and constituted himself agent of + Austria; he succeeded in gaining the Emperor’s money for the good of the + Royalist cause, and for his own most especial benefit. + </p> + <p> + Even a less astute man of the world than was Armand St. Just would easily + have guessed that de Batz’ desire to be the only instrument in the rescue + of the poor little Dauphin from the Temple was not actuated by patriotism, + but solely by greed. Obviously there was a rich reward waiting for him in + Vienna the day that he brought Louis XVII safely into Austrian territory; + that reward he would miss if a meddlesome Englishman interfered in this + affair. Whether in this wrangle he risked the life of the child-King or + not mattered to him not at all. It was de Batz who was to get the reward, + and whose welfare and prosperity mattered more than the most precious life + in Europe. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE DEMON CHANCE + </h2> + <p> + St. Just would have given much to be back in his lonely squalid lodgings + now. Too late did he realise how wise had been the dictum which had warned + him against making or renewing friendships in France. + </p> + <p> + Men had changed with the times. How terribly they had changed! Personal + safety had become a fetish with most—a goal so difficult to attain + that it had to be fought for and striven for, even at the expense of + humanity and of self-respect. + </p> + <p> + Selfishness—the mere, cold-blooded insistence for self-advancement—ruled + supreme. De Batz, surfeited with foreign money, used it firstly to ensure + his own immunity, scattering it to right and left to still the ambition of + the Public Prosecutor or to satisfy the greed of innumerable spies. + </p> + <p> + What was left over he used for the purpose of pitting the bloodthirsty + demagogues one against the other, making of the National Assembly a + gigantic bear-den, wherein wild beasts could rend one another limb from + limb. + </p> + <p> + In the meanwhile, what cared he—he said it himself—whether + hundreds of innocent martyrs perished miserably and uselessly? They were + the necessary food whereby the Revolution was to be satiated and de Batz’ + schemes enabled to mature. The most precious life in Europe even was only + to be saved if its price went to swell the pockets of de Batz, or to + further his future ambitions. + </p> + <p> + Times had indeed changed an entire nation. St. Just felt as sickened with + this self-seeking Royalist as he did with the savage brutes who struck to + right or left for their own delectation. He was meditating immediate + flight back to his lodgings, with a hope of finding there a word for him + from the chief—a word to remind him that men did live nowadays who + had other aims besides their own advancement—other ideals besides + the deification of self. + </p> + <p> + The curtain had descended on the first act, and traditionally, as the + works of M. de Moliere demanded it, the three knocks were heard again + without any interval. St. Just rose ready with a pretext for parting with + his friend. The curtain was being slowly drawn up on the second act, and + disclosed Alceste in wrathful conversation with Celimene. + </p> + <p> + Alceste’s opening speech is short. Whilst the actor spoke it Armand had + his back to the stage; with hand outstretched, he was murmuring what he + hoped would prove a polite excuse for thus leaving his amiable host while + the entertainment had only just begun. + </p> + <p> + De Batz—vexed and impatient—had not by any means finished with + his friend yet. He thought that his specious arguments—delivered + with boundless conviction—had made some impression on the mind of + the young man. That impression, however, he desired to deepen, and whilst + Armand was worrying his brain to find a plausible excuse for going away, + de Batz was racking his to find one for keeping him here. + </p> + <p> + Then it was that the wayward demon Chance intervened. Had St. Just risen + but two minutes earlier, had his active mind suggested the desired excuse + more readily, who knows what unspeakable sorrow, what heartrending misery, + what terrible shame might have been spared both him and those for whom he + cared? Those two minutes—did he but know it—decided the whole + course of his future life. The excuse hovered on his lips, de Batz + reluctantly was preparing to bid him good-bye, when Celimene, speaking + common-place words enough in answer to her quarrelsome lover, caused him + to drop the hand which he was holding out to his friend and to turn back + towards the stage. + </p> + <p> + It was an exquisite voice that had spoken—a voice mellow and tender, + with deep tones in it that betrayed latent power. The voice had caused + Armand to look, the lips that spoke forged the first tiny link of that + chain which riveted him forever after to the speaker. + </p> + <p> + It is difficult to say if such a thing really exists as love at first + sight. Poets and romancists will have us believe that it does; idealists + swear by it as being the only true love worthy of the name. + </p> + <p> + I do not know if I am prepared to admit their theory with regard to Armand + St. Just. Mlle. Lange’s exquisite voice certainly had charmed him to the + extent of making him forget his mistrust of de Batz and his desire to get + away. Mechanically almost he sat down again, and leaning both elbows on + the edge of the box, he rested his chin in his hand, and listened. The + words which the late M. de Moliere puts into the mouth of Celimene are + trite and flippant enough, yet every time that Mlle. Lange’s lips moved + Armand watched her, entranced. + </p> + <p> + There, no doubt, the matter would have ended: a young man fascinated by a + pretty woman on the stage—‘tis a small matter, and one from which + there doth not often spring a weary trail of tragic circumstances. Armand, + who had a passion for music, would have worshipped at the shrine of Mlle. + Lange’s perfect voice until the curtain came down on the last act, had not + his friend de Batz seen the keen enchantment which the actress had + produced on the young enthusiast. + </p> + <p> + Now de Batz was a man who never allowed an opportunity to slip by, if that + opportunity led towards the furtherance of his own desires. He did not + want to lose sight of Armand just yet, and here the good demon Chance had + given him an opportunity for obtaining what he wanted. + </p> + <p> + He waited quietly until the fall of the curtain at the end of Act II.; + then, as Armand, with a sigh of delight, leaned back in his chair, and + closing his eyes appeared to be living the last half-hour all over again, + de Batz remarked with well-assumed indifference: + </p> + <p> + “Mlle. Lange is a promising young actress. Do you not think so, my + friend?” + </p> + <p> + “She has a perfect voice—it was exquisite melody to the ear,” + replied Armand. “I was conscious of little else.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a beautiful woman, nevertheless,” continued de Batz with a smile. + “During the next act, my good St. Just, I would suggest that you open your + eyes as well as your ears.” + </p> + <p> + Armand did as he was bidden. The whole appearance of Mlle. Lange seemed in + harmony with her voice. She was not very tall, but eminently graceful, + with a small, oval face and slender, almost childlike figure, which + appeared still more so above the wide hoops and draped panniers of the + fashions of Moliere’s time. + </p> + <p> + Whether she was beautiful or not the young man hardly knew. Measured by + certain standards, she certainly was not so, for her mouth was not small, + and her nose anything but classical in outline. But the eyes were brown, + and they had that half-veiled look in them—shaded with long lashes + that seemed to make a perpetual tender appeal to the masculine heart: the + lips, too, were full and moist, and the teeth dazzling white. Yes!—on + the whole we might easily say that she was exquisite, even though we did + not admit that she was beautiful. + </p> + <p> + Painter David has made a sketch of her; we have all seen it at the Musee + Carnavalet, and all wondered why that charming, if irregular, little face + made such an impression of sadness. + </p> + <p> + There are five acts in “Le Misanthrope,” during which Celimene is almost + constantly on the stage. At the end of the fourth act de Batz said + casually to his friend: + </p> + <p> + “I have the honour of personal acquaintanceship with Mlle. Lange. An you + care for an introduction to her, we can go round to the green-room after + the play.” + </p> + <p> + Did prudence then whisper, “Desist”? Did loyalty to the leader murmur, + “Obey”? It were indeed difficult to say. Armand St. Just was not + five-and-twenty, and Mlle. Lange’s melodious voice spoke louder than the + whisperings of prudence or even than the call of duty. + </p> + <p> + He thanked de Batz warmly, and during the last half-hour, while the + misanthropical lover spurned repentant Celimene, he was conscious of a + curious sensation of impatience, a tingling of his nerves, a wild, mad + longing to hear those full moist lips pronounce his name, and have those + large brown eyes throw their half-veiled look into his own. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. MADEMOISELLE LANGE + </h2> + <p> + The green-room was crowded when de Batz and St. Just arrived there after + the performance. The older man cast a hasty glance through the open door. + The crowd did not suit his purpose, and he dragged his companion hurriedly + away from the contemplation of Mlle. Lange, sitting in a far corner of the + room, surrounded by an admiring throng, and by innumerable floral tributes + offered to her beauty and to her success. + </p> + <p> + De Batz without a word led the way back towards the stage. Here, by the + dim light of tallow candles fixed in sconces against the surrounding + walls, the scene-shifters were busy moving drop-scenes, back cloths and + wings, and paid no heed to the two men who strolled slowly up and down + silently, each wrapped in his own thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Armand walked with his hands buried in his breeches pockets, his head bent + forward on his chest; but every now and again he threw quick, apprehensive + glances round him whenever a firm step echoed along the empty stage or a + voice rang clearly through the now deserted theatre. + </p> + <p> + “Are we wise to wait here?” he asked, speaking to himself rather than to + his companion. + </p> + <p> + He was not anxious about his own safety; but the words of de Batz had + impressed themselves upon his mind: “Heron and his spies we have always + with us.” + </p> + <p> + From the green-room a separate foyer and exit led directly out into the + street. Gradually the sound of many voices, the loud laughter and + occasional snatches of song which for the past half-hour had proceeded + from that part of the house, became more subdued and more rare. One by one + the friends of the artists were leaving the theatre, after having paid the + usual banal compliments to those whom they favoured, or presented the + accustomed offering of flowers to the brightest star of the night. + </p> + <p> + The actors were the first to retire, then the older actresses, the ones + who could no longer command a court of admirers round them. They all filed + out of the green-room and crossed the stage to where, at the back, a + narrow, rickety wooden stairs led to their so-called dressing-rooms—tiny, + dark cubicles, ill-lighted, unventilated, where some half-dozen of the + lesser stars tumbled over one another while removing wigs and + grease-paint. + </p> + <p> + Armand and de Batz watched this exodus, both with equal impatience. Mlle. + Lange was the last to leave the green-room. For some time, since the crowd + had become thinner round her, Armand had contrived to catch glimpses of + her slight, elegant figure. A short passage led from the stage to the + green-room door, which was wide open, and at the corner of this passage + the young man had paused from time to time in his walk, gazing with + earnest admiration at the dainty outline of the young girl’s head, with + its wig of powdered curls that seemed scarcely whiter than the creamy + brilliance of her skin. + </p> + <p> + De Batz did not watch Mlle. Lange beyond casting impatient looks in the + direction of the crowd that prevented her leaving the green-room. He did + watch Armand, however—noted his eager look, his brisk and alert + movements, the obvious glances of admiration which he cast in the + direction of the young actress, and this seemed to afford him a + considerable amount of contentment. + </p> + <p> + The best part of an hour had gone by since the fall of the curtain before + Mlle. Lange finally dismissed her many admirers, and de Batz had the + satisfaction of seeing her running down the passage, turning back + occasionally in order to bid gay “good-nights” to the loiterers who were + loath to part from her. She was a child in all her movements, quite + unconscious of self or of her own charms, but frankly delighted with her + success. She was still dressed in the ridiculous hoops and panniers + pertaining to her part, and the powdered peruke hid the charm of her own + hair; the costume gave a certain stilted air to her unaffected + personality, which, by this very sense of contrast, was essentially + fascinating. + </p> + <p> + In her arms she held a huge sheaf of sweet-scented narcissi, the spoils of + some favoured spot far away in the South. Armand thought that never in his + life had he seen anything so winsome or so charming. + </p> + <p> + Having at last said the positively final adieu, Mlle. Lange with a happy + little sigh turned to run down the passage. + </p> + <p> + She came face to face with Armand, and gave a sudden little gasp of + terror. It was not good these days to come on any loiterer unawares. + </p> + <p> + But already de Batz had quickly joined his friend, and his smooth, + pleasant voice, and podgy, beringed hand extended towards Mlle. Lange, + were sufficient to reassure her. + </p> + <p> + “You were so surrounded in the green-room, mademoiselle,” he said + courteously, “I did not venture to press in among the crowd of your + admirers. Yet I had the great wish to present my respectful + congratulations in person.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! c’est ce cher de Batz!” exclaimed mademoiselle gaily, in that + exquisitely rippling voice of hers. “And where in the world do you spring + from, my friend? + </p> + <p> + “Hush-sh-sh!” he whispered, holding her small bemittened hand in his, and + putting one finger to his lips with an urgent entreaty for discretion; + “not my name, I beg of you, fair one.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” she retorted lightly, even though her full lips trembled now as she + spoke and belied her very words. “You need have no fear whilst you are in + this part of the house. It is an understood thing that the Committee of + General Security does not send its spies behind the curtain of a theatre. + Why, if all of us actors and actresses were sent to the guillotine there + would be no play on the morrow. Artistes are not replaceable in a few + hours; those that are in existence must perforce be spared, or the + citizens who govern us now would not know where to spend their evenings.” + </p> + <p> + But though she spoke so airily and with her accustomed gaiety, it was + easily perceived that even on this childish mind the dangers which beset + every one these days had already imprinted their mark of suspicion and of + caution. + </p> + <p> + “Come into my dressing-room,” she said. “I must not tarry here any longer, + for they will be putting out the lights. But I have a room to myself, and + we can talk there quite agreeably.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way across the stage towards the wooden stairs. Armand, who + during this brief colloquy between his friend and the young girl had kept + discreetly in the background, felt undecided what to do. But at a + peremptory sign from de Batz he, too, turned in the wake of the gay little + lady, who ran swiftly up the rickety steps, humming snatches of popular + songs the while, and not turning to see if indeed the two men were + following her. + </p> + <p> + She had the sheaf of narcissi still in her arms, and the door of her tiny + dressing-room being open, she ran straight in and threw the flowers down + in a confused, sweet-scented mass upon the small table that stood at one + end of the room, littered with pots and bottles, letters, mirrors, + powder-puffs, silk stockings, and cambric handkerchiefs. + </p> + <p> + Then she turned and faced the two men, a merry look of unalterable gaiety + dancing in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Shut the door, mon ami,” she said to de Batz, “and after that sit down + where you can, so long as it is not on my most precious pot of unguent or + a box of costliest powder.” + </p> + <p> + While de Batz did as he was told, she turned to Armand and said with a + pretty tone of interrogation in her melodious voice: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “St. Just, at your service, mademoiselle,” said Armand, bowing very low in + the most approved style obtaining at the English Court. + </p> + <p> + “St. Just?” she repeated, a look of puzzlement in her brown eyes. “Surely—” + </p> + <p> + “A kinsman of citizen St. Just, whom no doubt you know, mademoiselle,” he + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “My friend Armand St. Just,” interposed de Batz, “is practically a + new-comer in Paris. He lives in England habitually.” + </p> + <p> + “In England?” she exclaimed. “Oh! do tell me all about England. I would + love to go there. Perhaps I may have to go some day. Oh! do sit down, de + Batz,” she continued, talking rather volubly, even as a delicate blush + heightened the colour in her cheeks under the look of obvious admiration + from Armand St. Just’s expressive eyes. + </p> + <p> + She swept a handful of delicate cambric and silk from off a chair, making + room for de Batz’ portly figure. Then she sat upon the sofa, and with an + inviting gesture and a call from the eyes she bade Armand sit down next to + her. She leaned back against the cushions, and the table being close by, + she stretched out a hand and once more took up the bunch of narcissi, and + while she talked to Armand she held the snow-white blooms quite close to + her face—so close, in fact, that he could not see her mouth and + chin, only her dark eyes shone across at him over the heads of the + blossoms. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me all about England,” she reiterated, settling herself down among + the cushions like a spoilt child who is about to listen to an oft-told + favourite story. + </p> + <p> + Armand was vexed that de Batz was sitting there. He felt he could have + told this dainty little lady quite a good deal about England if only his + pompous, fat friend would have had the good sense to go away. + </p> + <p> + As it was, he felt unusually timid and gauche, not quite knowing what to + say, a fact which seemed to amuse Mlle. Lange not a little. + </p> + <p> + “I am very fond of England,” he said lamely; “my sister is married to an + Englishman, and I myself have taken up my permanent residence there.” + </p> + <p> + “Among the society of emigres?” she queried. + </p> + <p> + Then, as Armand made no reply, de Batz interposed quickly: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you need not fear to admit it, my good Armand; Mademoiselle Lange, + has many friends among the emigres—have you not, mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course,” she replied lightly; “I have friends everywhere. Their + political views have nothing to do with me. Artistes, I think, should have + naught to do with politics. You see, citizen St. Just, I never inquired of + you what were your views. Your name and kinship would proclaim you a + partisan of citizen Robespierre, yet I find you in the company of M. de + Batz; and you tell me that you live in England.” + </p> + <p> + “He is no partisan of citizen Robespierre,” again interposed de Batz; “in + fact, mademoiselle, I may safely tell you, I think, that my friend has but + one ideal on this earth, whom he has set up in a shrine, and whom he + worships with all the ardour of a Christian for his God.” + </p> + <p> + “How romantic!” she said, and she looked straight at Armand. “Tell me, + monsieur, is your ideal a woman or a man?” + </p> + <p> + His look answered her, even before he boldly spoke the two words: + </p> + <p> + “A woman.” + </p> + <p> + She took a deep draught of sweet, intoxicating scent from the narcissi, + and his gaze once more brought blushes to her cheeks. De Batz’ + good-humoured laugh helped her to hide this unwonted access of confusion. + </p> + <p> + “That was well turned, friend Armand,” he said lightly; “but I assure you, + mademoiselle, that before I brought him here to-night his ideal was a + man.” + </p> + <p> + “A man!” she exclaimed, with a contemptuous little pout. “Who was it?” + </p> + <p> + “I know no other name for him but that of a small, insignificant flower—the + Scarlet Pimpernel,” replied de Batz. + </p> + <p> + “The Scarlet Pimpernel!” she ejaculated, dropping the flowers suddenly, + and gazing on Armand with wide, wondering eyes. “And do you know him, + monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + He was frowning despite himself, despite the delight which he felt at + sitting so close to this charming little lady, and feeling that in a + measure his presence and his personality interested her. But he felt + irritated with de Batz, and angered at what he considered the latter’s + indiscretion. To him the very name of his leader was almost a sacred one; + he was one of those enthusiastic devotees who only care to name the idol + of their dreams with bated breath, and only in the ears of those who would + understand and sympathise. + </p> + <p> + Again he felt that if only he could have been alone with mademoiselle he + could have told her all about the Scarlet Pimpernel, knowing that in her + he would find a ready listener, a helping and a loving heart; but as it + was he merely replied tamely enough: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mademoiselle, I do know him.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen him?” she queried eagerly; “spoken to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do tell me all about him. You know quite a number of us in France + have the greatest possible admiration for your national hero. We know, of + course, that he is an enemy of our Government—but, oh! we feel that + he is not an enemy of France because of that. We are a nation of heroes, + too, monsieur,” she added with a pretty, proud toss of the head; “we can + appreciate bravery and resource, and we love the mystery that surrounds + the personality of your Scarlet Pimpernel. But since you know him, + monsieur, tell me what is he like?” + </p> + <p> + Armand was smiling again. He was yielding himself up wholly to the charm + which emanated from this young girl’s entire being, from her gaiety and + her unaffectedness, her enthusiasm, and that obvious artistic temperament + which caused her to feel every sensation with superlative keenness and + thoroughness. + </p> + <p> + “What is he like?” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + “That, mademoiselle,” he replied, “I am not at liberty to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at liberty to tell me!” she exclaimed; “but monsieur, if I command + you—” + </p> + <p> + “At risk of falling forever under the ban of your displeasure, + mademoiselle, I would still remain silent on that subject.” + </p> + <p> + She gazed on him with obvious astonishment. It was quite an unusual thing + for this spoilt darling of an admiring public to be thus openly thwarted + in her whims. + </p> + <p> + “How tiresome and pedantic!” she said, with a shrug of her pretty + shoulders and a moue of discontent. “And, oh! how ungallant! You have + learnt ugly, English ways, monsieur; for there, I am told, men hold their + womenkind in very scant esteem. There!” she added, turning with a mock air + of hopelessness towards de Batz, “am I not a most unlucky woman? For the + past two years I have used my best endeavours to catch sight of that + interesting Scarlet Pimpernel; here do I meet monsieur, who actually knows + him (so he says), and he is so ungallant that he even refuses to satisfy + the first cravings of my just curiosity.” + </p> + <p> + “Citizen St. Just will tell you nothing now, mademoiselle,” rejoined de + Batz with his good-humoured laugh; “it is my presence, I assure you, which + is setting a seal upon his lips. He is, believe me, aching to confide in + you, to share in your enthusiasm, and to see your beautiful eyes glowing + in response to his ardour when he describes to you the exploits of that + prince of heroes. En tete-a-tete one day, you will, I know, worm every + secret out of my discreet friend Armand.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle made no comment on this—that is to say, no audible + comment—but she buried the whole of her face for a few seconds among + the flowers, and Armand from amongst those flowers caught sight of a pair + of very bright brown eyes which shone on him with a puzzled look. + </p> + <p> + She said nothing more about the Scarlet Pimpernel or about England just + then, but after awhile she began talking of more indifferent subjects: the + state of the weather, the price of food, the discomforts of her own house, + now that the servants had been put on perfect equality with their masters. + </p> + <p> + Armand soon gathered that the burning questions of the day, the horrors of + massacres, the raging turmoil of politics, had not affected her very + deeply as yet. She had not troubled her pretty head very much about the + social and humanitarian aspect of the present seething revolution. She did + not really wish to think about it at all. An artiste to her finger-tips, + she was spending her young life in earnest work, striving to attain + perfection in her art, absorbed in study during the day, and in the + expression of what she had learnt in the evenings. + </p> + <p> + The terrors of the guillotine affected her a little, but somewhat vaguely + still. She had not realised that any dangers could assail her whilst she + worked for the artistic delectation of the public. + </p> + <p> + It was not that she did not understand what went on around her, but that + her artistic temperament and her environment had kept her aloof from it + all. The horrors of the Place de la Revolution made her shudder, but only + in the same way as the tragedies of M. Racine or of Sophocles which she + had studied caused her to shudder, and she had exactly the same sympathy + for poor Queen Marie Antoinette as she had for Mary Stuart, and shed as + many tears for King Louis as she did for Polyeucte. + </p> + <p> + Once de Batz mentioned the Dauphin, but mademoiselle put up her hand + quickly and said in a trembling voice, whilst the tears gathered in her + eyes: + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak of the child to me, de Batz. What can I, a lonely, + hard-working woman, do to help him? I try not to think of him, for if I + did, knowing my own helplessness, I feel that I could hate my countrymen, + and speak my bitter hatred of them across the footlights; which would be + more than foolish,” she added naively, “for it would not help the child, + and I should be sent to the guillotine. But oh sometimes I feel that I + would gladly die if only that poor little child-martyr were restored to + those who love him and given back once more to joy and happiness. But they + would not take my life for his, I am afraid,” she concluded, smiling + through her tears. “My life is of no value in comparison with his.” + </p> + <p> + Soon after this she dismissed her two visitors. De Batz, well content with + the result of this evening’s entertainment, wore an urbane, bland smile on + his rubicund face. Armand, somewhat serious and not a little in love, made + the hand-kiss with which he took his leave last as long as he could. + </p> + <p> + “You will come and see me again, citizen St. Just?” she asked after that + preliminary leave-taking. + </p> + <p> + “At your service, mademoiselle,” he replied with alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “How long do you stay in Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “I may be called away at any time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, come to-morrow. I shall be free towards four o’clock. Square + du Roule. You cannot miss the house. Any one there will tell you where + lives citizeness Lange.” + </p> + <p> + “At your service, mademoiselle,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + The words sounded empty and meaningless, but his eyes, as they took final + leave of her, spoke the gratitude and the joy which he felt. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE TEMPLE PRISON + </h2> + <p> + It was close on midnight when the two friends finally parted company + outside the doors of the theatre. The night air struck with biting + keenness against them when they emerged from the stuffy, overheated + building, and both wrapped their caped cloaks tightly round their + shoulders. Armand—more than ever now—was anxious to rid + himself of de Batz. The Gascon’s platitudes irritated him beyond the + bounds of forbearance, and he wanted to be alone, so that he might think + over the events of this night, the chief event being a little lady with an + enchanting voice and the most fascinating brown eyes he had ever seen. + </p> + <p> + Self-reproach, too, was fighting a fairly even fight with the excitement + that had been called up by that same pair of brown eyes. Armand for the + past four or five hours had acted in direct opposition to the earnest + advice given to him by his chief; he had renewed one friendship which had + been far better left in oblivion, and he had made an acquaintance which + already was leading him along a path that he felt sure his comrade would + disapprove. But the path was so profusely strewn with scented narcissi + that Armand’s sensitive conscience was quickly lulled to rest by the + intoxicating fragrance. + </p> + <p> + Looking neither to right nor left, he made his way very quickly up the Rue + Richelieu towards the Montmartre quarter, where he lodged. + </p> + <p> + De Batz stood and watched him for as long as the dim lights of the street + lamps illumined his slim, soberly-clad figure; then he turned on his heel + and walked off in the opposite direction. + </p> + <p> + His florid, pock-marked face wore an air of contentment not altogether + unmixed with a kind of spiteful triumph. + </p> + <p> + “So, my pretty Scarlet Pimpernel,” he muttered between his closed lips, + “you wish to meddle in my affairs, to have for yourself and your friends + the credit and glory of snatching the golden prize from the clutches of + these murderous brutes. Well, we shall see! We shall see which is the + wiliest—the French ferret or the English fox.” + </p> + <p> + He walked deliberately away from the busy part of the town, turning his + back on the river, stepping out briskly straight before him, and swinging + his gold-beaded cane as he walked. + </p> + <p> + The streets which he had to traverse were silent and deserted, save + occasionally where a drinking or an eating house had its swing-doors still + invitingly open. From these places, as de Batz strode rapidly by, came + sounds of loud voices, rendered raucous by outdoor oratory; volleys of + oaths hurled irreverently in the midst of impassioned speeches; + interruptions from rowdy audiences that vied with the speaker in + invectives and blasphemies; wordy war-fares that ended in noisy + vituperations; accusations hurled through the air heavy with tobacco smoke + and the fumes of cheap wines and of raw spirits. + </p> + <p> + De Batz took no heed of these as he passed, anxious only that the crowd of + eating-house politicians did not, as often was its wont, turn out + pele-mele into the street, and settle its quarrel by the weight of fists. + He did not wish to be embroiled in a street fight, which invariably ended + in denunciations and arrests, and was glad when presently he had left the + purlieus of the Palais Royal behind him, and could strike on his left + toward the lonely Faubourg du Temple. + </p> + <p> + From the dim distance far away came at intervals the mournful sound of a + roll of muffled drums, half veiled by the intervening hubbub of the busy + night life of the great city. It proceeded from the Place de la + Revolution, where a company of the National Guard were on night watch + round the guillotine. The dull, intermittent notes of the drum came as a + reminder to the free people of France that the watchdog of a vengeful + revolution was alert night and day, never sleeping, ever wakeful, “beating + up game for the guillotine,” as the new decree framed to-day by the + Government of the people had ordered that it should do. + </p> + <p> + From time to time now the silence of this lonely street was broken by a + sudden cry of terror, followed by the clash of arms, the inevitable volley + of oaths, the call for help, the final moan of anguish. They were the + ever-recurring brief tragedies which told of denunciations, of domiciliary + search, of sudden arrests, of an agonising desire for life and for freedom—for + life under these same horrible conditions of brutality and of servitude, + for freedom to breathe, if only a day or two longer, this air, polluted by + filth and by blood. + </p> + <p> + De Batz, hardened to these scenes, paid no heed to them. He had heard it + so often, that cry in the night, followed by death-like silence; it came + from comfortable bourgeois houses, from squalid lodgings, or lonely + cul-de-sac, wherever some hunted quarry was run to earth by the + newly-organised spies of the Committee of General Security. + </p> + <p> + Five and thirty livres for every head that falls trunkless into the basket + at the foot of the guillotine! Five and thirty pieces of silver, now as + then, the price of innocent blood. Every cry in the night, every call for + help, meant game for the guillotine, and five and thirty livres in the + hands of a Judas. + </p> + <p> + And de Batz walked on unmoved by what he saw and heard, swinging his cane + and looking satisfied. Now he struck into the Place de la Victoire, and + looked on one of the open-air camps that had recently been established + where men, women, and children were working to provide arms and + accoutrements for the Republican army that was fighting the whole of + Europe. + </p> + <p> + The people of France were up in arms against tyranny; and on the open + places of their mighty city they were encamped day and night forging those + arms which were destined to make them free, and in the meantime were + bending under a yoke of tyranny more complete, more grinding and absolute + than any that the most despotic kings had ever dared to inflict. + </p> + <p> + Here by the light of resin torches, at this late hour of the night, raw + lads were being drilled into soldiers, half-naked under the cutting blast + of the north wind, their knees shaking under them, their arms and legs + blue with cold, their stomachs empty, and their teeth chattering with + fear; women were sewing shirts for the great improvised army, with eyes + straining to see the stitches by the flickering light of the torches, + their throats parched with the continual inhaling of smoke-laden air; even + children, with weak, clumsy little fingers, were picking rags to be woven + into cloth again—all, all these slaves were working far into the night, + tired, hungry, and cold, but working unceasingly, as the country had + demanded it: “the people of France in arms against tyranny!” The people of + France had to set to work to make arms, to clothe the soldiers, the + defenders of the people’s liberty. + </p> + <p> + And from this crowd of people—men, women, and children—there + came scarcely a sound, save raucous whispers, a moan or a sigh quickly + suppressed. A grim silence reigned in this thickly-peopled camp; only the + crackling of the torches broke that silence now and then, or the flapping + of canvas in the wintry gale. They worked on sullen, desperate, and + starving, with no hope of payment save the miserable rations wrung from + poor tradespeople or miserable farmers, as wretched, as oppressed as + themselves; no hope of payment, only fear of punishment, for that was ever + present. + </p> + <p> + The people of France in arms against tyranny were not allowed to forget + that grim taskmaster with the two great hands stretched upwards, holding + the knife which descended mercilessly, indiscriminately on necks that did + not bend willingly to the task. + </p> + <p> + A grim look of gratified desire had spread over de Batz’ face as he + skirted the open-air camp. Let them toil, let them groan, let them starve! + The more these clouts suffer, the more brutal the heel that grinds them + down, the sooner will the Emperor’s money accomplish its work, the sooner + will these wretches be clamoring for the monarchy, which would mean a rich + reward in de Batz’ pockets. + </p> + <p> + To him everything now was for the best: the tyranny, the brutality, the + massacres. He gloated in the holocausts with as much satisfaction as did + the most bloodthirsty Jacobin in the Convention. He would with his own + hands have wielded the guillotine that worked too slowly for his ends. Let + that end justify the means, was his motto. What matter if the future King + of France walked up to his throne over steps made of headless corpses and + rendered slippery with the blood of martyrs? + </p> + <p> + The ground beneath de Batz’ feet was hard and white with the frost. + Overhead the pale, wintry moon looked down serene and placid on this giant + city wallowing in an ocean of misery. + </p> + <p> + There, had been but little snow as yet this year, and the cold was + intense. On his right now the Cimetiere des SS. Innocents lay peaceful and + still beneath the wan light of the moon. A thin covering of snow lay + evenly alike on grass mounds and smooth stones. Here and there a broken + cross with chipped arms still held pathetically outstretched, as if in a + final appeal for human love, bore mute testimony to senseless excesses and + spiteful desire for destruction. + </p> + <p> + But here within the precincts of the dwelling of the eternal Master a + solemn silence reigned; only the cold north wind shook the branches of the + yew, causing them to send forth a melancholy sigh into the night, and to + shed a shower of tiny crystals of snow like the frozen tears of the dead. + </p> + <p> + And round the precincts of the lonely graveyard, and down narrow streets + or open places, the night watchmen went their rounds, lanthorn in hand, + and every five minutes their monotonous call rang clearly out in the + night: + </p> + <p> + “Sleep, citizens! everything is quiet and at peace!” + </p> + <p> + We may take it that de Batz did not philosophise over-much on what went on + around him. He had walked swiftly up the Rue St. Martin, then turning + sharply to his right he found himself beneath the tall, frowning walls of + the Temple prison, the grim guardian of so many secrets, such terrible + despair, such unspeakable tragedies. + </p> + <p> + Here, too, as in the Place de la Revolution, an intermittent roll of + muffled drums proclaimed the ever-watchful presence of the National Guard. + But with that exception not a sound stirred round the grim and stately + edifice; there were no cries, no calls, no appeals around its walls. All + the crying and wailing was shut in by the massive stone that told no + tales. + </p> + <p> + Dim and flickering lights shone behind several of the small windows in the + facade of the huge labyrinthine building. Without any hesitation de Batz + turned down the Rue du Temple, and soon found himself in front of the main + gates which gave on the courtyard beyond. The sentinel challenged him, but + he had the pass-word, and explained that he desired to have speech with + citizen Heron. + </p> + <p> + With a surly gesture the guard pointed to the heavy bell-pull up against + the gate, and de Batz pulled it with all his might. The long clang of the + brazen bell echoed and re-echoed round the solid stone walls. Anon a tiny + judas in the gate was cautiously pushed open, and a peremptory voice once + again challenged the midnight intruder. + </p> + <p> + De Batz, more peremptorily this time, asked for citizen Heron, with whom + he had immediate and important business, and a glimmer of a piece of + silver which he held up close to the judas secured him the necessary + admittance. + </p> + <p> + The massive gates slowly swung open on their creaking hinges, and as de + Batz passed beneath the archway they closed again behind him. + </p> + <p> + The concierge’s lodge was immediately on his left. Again he was + challenged, and again gave the pass-word. But his face was apparently + known here, for no serious hindrance to proceed was put in his way. + </p> + <p> + A man, whose wide, lean frame was but ill-covered by a threadbare coat and + ragged breeches, and with soleless shoes on his feet, was told off to + direct the citoyen to citizen Heron’s rooms. The man walked slowly along + with bent knees and arched spine, and shuffled his feet as he walked; the + bunch of keys which he carried rattled ominously in his long, grimy hands; + the passages were badly lighted, and he also carried a lanthorn to guide + himself on the way. + </p> + <p> + Closely followed by de Batz, he soon turned into the central corridor, + which is open to the sky above, and was spectrally alight now with + flag-stones and walls gleaming beneath the silvery sheen of the moon, and + throwing back the fantastic elongated shadows of the two men as they + walked. + </p> + <p> + On the left, heavily barred windows gave on the corridor, as did here and + there the massive oaken doors, with their gigantic hinges and bolts, on + the steps of which squatted groups of soldiers wrapped in their cloaks, + with wild, suspicious eyes beneath their capotes, peering at the midnight + visitor as he passed. + </p> + <p> + There was no thought of silence here. The very walls seemed alive with + sounds, groans and tears, loud wails and murmured prayers; they exuded + from the stones and trembled on the frost-laden air. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally at one of the windows a pair of white hands would appear, + grasping the heavy iron bar, trying to shake it in its socket, and mayhap, + above the hands, the dim vision of a haggard face, a man’s or a woman’s, + trying to get a glimpse of the outside world, a final look at the sky, + before the last journey to the place of death to-morrow. Then one of the + soldiers, with a loud, angry oath, would struggle to his feet, and with + the butt-end of his gun strike at the thin, wan fingers till their hold on + the iron bar relaxed, and the pallid face beyond would sink back into the + darkness with a desperate cry of pain. + </p> + <p> + A quick, impatient sigh escaped de Batz’ lips. He had skirted the wide + courtyard in the wake of his guide, and from where he was he could see the + great central tower, with its tiny windows lighted from within, the grim + walls behind which the descendant of the world’s conquerors, the bearer of + the proudest name in Europe, and wearer of its most ancient crown, had + spent the last days of his brilliant life in abject shame, sorrow, and + degradation. The memory had swiftly surged up before him of that night + when he all but rescued King Louis and his family from this same miserable + prison: the guard had been bribed, the keeper corrupted, everything had + been prepared, save the reckoning with the one irresponsible factor—chance! + </p> + <p> + He had failed then and had tried again, and again had failed; a fortune + had been his reward if he had succeeded. He had failed, but even now, when + his footsteps echoed along the flagged courtyard, over which an + unfortunate King and Queen had walked on their way to their last + ignominious Calvary, he hugged himself with the satisfying thought that + where he had failed at least no one else had succeeded. + </p> + <p> + Whether that meddlesome English adventurer, who called himself the Scarlet + Pimpernel, had planned the rescue of King Louis or of Queen Marie + Antoinette at any time or not—that he did not know; but on one point + at least he was more than ever determined, and that was that no power on + earth should snatch from him the golden prize offered by Austria for the + rescue of the little Dauphin. + </p> + <p> + “I would sooner see the child perish, if I cannot save him myself,” was + the burning thought in this man’s tortuous brain. “And let that accursed + Englishman look to himself and to his d——d confederates,” he + added, muttering a fierce oath beneath his breath. + </p> + <p> + A winding, narrow stone stair, another length or two of corridor, and his + guide’s shuffling footsteps paused beside a low iron-studded door let into + the solid stone. De Batz dismissed his ill-clothed guide and pulled the + iron bell-handle which hung beside the door. + </p> + <p> + The bell gave forth a dull and broken clang, which seemed like an echo of + the wails of sorrow that peopled the huge building with their weird and + monotonous sounds. + </p> + <p> + De Batz—a thoroughly unimaginative person—waited patiently + beside the door until it was opened from within, and he was confronted by + a tall stooping figure, wearing a greasy coat of snuff-brown cloth, and + holding high above his head a lanthorn that threw its feeble light on de + Batz’ jovial face and form. + </p> + <p> + “It is even I, citizen Heron,” he said, breaking in swiftly on the other’s + ejaculation of astonishment, which threatened to send his name echoing the + whole length of corridors and passages, until round every corner of the + labyrinthine house of sorrow the murmur would be borne on the wings of the + cold night breeze: “Citizen Heron is in parley with ci-devant Baron de + Batz!” + </p> + <p> + A fact which would have been equally unpleasant for both these worthies. + </p> + <p> + “Enter!” said Heron curtly. + </p> + <p> + He banged the heavy door to behind his visitor; and de Batz, who seemed to + know his way about the place, walked straight across the narrow landing to + where a smaller door stood invitingly open. + </p> + <p> + He stepped boldly in, the while citizen Heron put the lanthorn down on the + floor of the couloir, and then followed his nocturnal visitor into the + room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE COMMITTEE’S AGENT + </h2> + <p> + It was a narrow, ill-ventilated place, with but one barred window that + gave on the courtyard. An evil-smelling lamp hung by a chain from the + grimy ceiling, and in a corner of the room a tiny iron stove shed more + unpleasant vapour than warm glow around. + </p> + <p> + There was but little furniture: two or three chairs, a table which was + littered with papers, and a corner-cupboard—the open doors of which + revealed a miscellaneous collection—bundles of papers, a tin + saucepan, a piece of cold sausage, and a couple of pistols. The fumes of + stale tobacco-smoke hovered in the air, and mingled most unpleasantly with + those of the lamp above, and of the mildew that penetrated through the + walls just below the roof. + </p> + <p> + Heron pointed to one of the chairs, and then sat down on the other, close + to the table, on which he rested his elbow. He picked up a short-stemmed + pipe, which he had evidently laid aside at the sound of the bell, and + having taken several deliberate long-drawn puffs from it, he said + abruptly: + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it now?” + </p> + <p> + In the meanwhile de Batz had made himself as much at home in this + uncomfortable room as he possibly could. He had deposited his hat and + cloak on one rickety rush-bottomed chair, and drawn another close to the + fire. He sat down with one leg crossed over the other, his podgy be-ringed + hand wandering with loving gentleness down the length of his shapely calf. + </p> + <p> + He was nothing if not complacent, and his complacency seemed highly to + irritate his friend Heron. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” reiterated the latter, drawing his visitor’s attention + roughly to himself by banging his fist on the table. “Out with it! What do + you want? Why have you come at this hour of the night to compromise me, I + suppose—bring your own d—d neck and mine into the same noose—what?” + </p> + <p> + “Easy, easy, my friend,” responded de Batz imperturbably; “waste not so + much time in idle talk. Why do I usually come to see you? Surely you have + had no cause to complain hitherto of the unprofitableness of my visits to + you?” + </p> + <p> + “They will have to be still more profitable to me in the future,” growled + the other across the table. “I have more power now.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you have,” said de Batz suavely. “The new decree? What? You may + denounce whom you please, search whom you please, arrest whom you please, + and send whom you please to the Supreme Tribunal without giving them the + slightest chance of escape.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it in order to tell me all this that you have come to see me at this + hour of the night?” queried Heron with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “No; I came at this hour of the night because I surmised that in the + future you and your hell-hounds would be so busy all day ‘beating up game + for the guillotine’ that the only time you would have at the disposal of + your friends would be the late hours of the night. I saw you at the + theatre a couple of hours ago, friend Heron; I didn’t think to find you + yet abed.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather,” retorted de Batz blandly, “shall we say, what do YOU want, + citizen Heron?” + </p> + <p> + “For what? + </p> + <p> + “For my continued immunity at the hands of yourself and your pack?” + </p> + <p> + Heron pushed his chair brusquely aside and strode across the narrow room + deliberately facing the portly figure of de Batz, who with head slightly + inclined on one side, his small eyes narrowed till they appeared mere + slits in his pockmarked face, was steadily and quite placidly + contemplating this inhuman monster who had this very day been given + uncontrolled power over hundreds of thousands of human lives. + </p> + <p> + Heron was one of those tall men who look mean in spite of their height. + His head was small and narrow, and his hair, which was sparse and lank, + fell in untidy strands across his forehead. He stooped slightly from the + neck, and his chest, though wide, was hollow between the shoulders. But + his legs were big and bony, slightly bent at the knees, like those of an + ill-conditioned horse. + </p> + <p> + The face was thin and the cheeks sunken; the eyes, very large and + prominent, had a look in them of cold and ferocious cruelty, a look which + contrasted strangely with the weakness and petty greed apparent in the + mouth, which was flabby, with full, very red lips, and chin that sloped + away to the long thin neck. + </p> + <p> + Even at this moment as he gazed on de Batz the greed and the cruelty in + him were fighting one of those battles the issue of which is always + uncertain in men of his stamp. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” he said slowly, “that I am prepared to treat with you any + longer. You are an intolerable bit of vermin that has annoyed the + Committee of General Security for over two years now. It would be + excessively pleasant to crush you once and for all, as one would a buzzing + fly.” + </p> + <p> + “Pleasant, perhaps, but immeasurably foolish,” rejoined de Batz coolly; + “you would only get thirty-five livres for my head, and I offer you ten + times that amount for the self-same commodity.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know; but the whole thing has become too dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? I am very modest. I don’t ask a great deal. Let your hounds keep off + my scent.” + </p> + <p> + “You have too many d—d confederates.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Never mind about the others. I am not bargaining about them. Let them + look after themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Every time we get a batch of them, one or the other denounces you.” + </p> + <p> + “Under torture, I know,” rejoined de Batz placidly, holding his podgy + hands to the warm glow of the fire. “For you have started torture in your + house of Justice now, eh, friend Heron? You and your friend the Public + Prosecutor have gone the whole gamut of devilry—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that to you?” retorted the other gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing, nothing! I was even proposing to pay you three thousand five + hundred livres for the privilege of taking no further interest in what + goes on inside this prison!” + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand five hundred!” ejaculated Heron involuntarily, and this + time even his eyes lost their cruelty; they joined issue with the mouth in + an expression of hungering avarice. + </p> + <p> + “Two little zeros added to the thirty-five, which is all you would get for + handing me over to your accursed Tribunal,” said de Batz, and, as if + thoughtlessly, his hand wandered to the inner pocket of his coat, and a + slight rustle as of thin crisp paper brought drops of moisture to the lips + of Heron. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone for three weeks and the money is yours,” concluded de Batz + pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + There was silence in the room now. Through the narrow barred window the + steely rays of the moon fought with the dim yellow light of the oil lamp, + and lit up the pale face of the Committee’s agent with its lines of + cruelty in sharp conflict with those of greed. + </p> + <p> + “Well! is it a bargain?” asked de Batz at last in his usual smooth, oily + voice, as he half drew from out his pocket that tempting little bundle of + crisp printed paper. “You have only to give me the usual receipt for the + money and it is yours.” + </p> + <p> + Heron gave a vicious snarl. + </p> + <p> + “It is dangerous, I tell you. That receipt, if it falls into some cursed + meddler’s hands, would send me straight to the guillotine.” + </p> + <p> + “The receipt could only fall into alien hands,” rejoined de Batz blandly, + “if I happened to be arrested, and even in that case they could but fall + into those of the chief agent of the Committee of General Security, and he + hath name Heron. You must take some risks, my friend. I take them too. We + are each in the other’s hands. The bargain is quite fair.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment or two longer Heron appeared to be hesitating whilst de Batz + watched him with keen intentness. He had no doubt himself as to the issue. + He had tried most of these patriots in his own golden crucible, and had + weighed their patriotism against Austrian money, and had never found the + latter wanting. + </p> + <p> + He had not been here to-night if he were not quite sure. This inveterate + conspirator in the Royalist cause never took personal risks. He looked on + Heron now, smiling to himself the while with perfect satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the Committee’s agent with sudden decision, “I’ll take + the money. But on one condition.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “That you leave little Capet alone.” + </p> + <p> + “The Dauphin!” + </p> + <p> + “Call him what you like,” said Heron, taking a step nearer to de Batz, and + from his great height glowering down in fierce hatred and rage upon his + accomplice; “call the young devil what you like, but leave us to deal with + him.” + </p> + <p> + “To kill him, you mean? Well, how can I prevent it, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “You and your like are always plotting to get him out of here. I won’t + have it. I tell you I won’t have it. If the brat disappears I am a dead + man. Robespierre and his gang have told me as much. So you leave him + alone, or I’ll not raise a finger to help you, but will lay my own hands + on your accursed neck.” + </p> + <p> + He looked so ferocious and so merciless then, that despite himself, the + selfish adventurer, the careless self-seeking intriguer, shuddered with a + quick wave of unreasoning terror. He turned away from Heron’s piercing + gaze, the gaze of a hyena whose prey is being snatched from beneath its + nails. For a moment he stared thoughtfully into the fire. + </p> + <p> + He heard the other man’s heavy footsteps cross and re-cross the narrow + room, and was conscious of the long curved shadow creeping up the mildewed + wall or retreating down upon the carpetless floor. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, without any warning he felt a grip upon his shoulder. He gave a + start and almost uttered a cry of alarm which caused Heron to laugh. The + Committee’s agent was vastly amused at his friend’s obvious access of + fear. There was nothing that he liked better than that he should inspire + dread in the hearts of all those with whom he came in contact. + </p> + <p> + “I am just going on my usual nocturnal round,” he said abruptly. “Come + with me, citizen de Batz.” + </p> + <p> + A certain grim humour was apparent in his face as he proffered this + invitation, which sounded like a rough command. As de Batz seemed to + hesitate he nodded peremptorily to him to follow. Already he had gone into + the hall and picked up his lanthorn. From beneath his waistcoat he drew + forth a bunch of keys, which he rattled impatiently, calling to his friend + to come. + </p> + <p> + “Come, citizen,” he said roughly. “I wish to show you the one treasure in + this house which your d—d fingers must not touch.” + </p> + <p> + Mechanically de Batz rose at last. He tried to be master of the terror + which was invading his very bones. He would not own to himself even that + he was afraid, and almost audibly he kept murmuring to himself that he had + no cause for fear. + </p> + <p> + Heron would never touch him. The spy’s avarice, his greed of money were a + perfect safeguard for any man who had the control of millions, and Heron + knew, of course, that he could make of this inveterate plotter a + comfortable source of revenue for himself. Three weeks would soon be over, + and fresh bargains could be made time and again, while de Batz was alive + and free. + </p> + <p> + Heron was still waiting at the door, even whilst de Batz wondered what + this nocturnal visitation would reveal to him of atrocity and of outrage. + He made a final effort to master his nervousness, wrapped his cloak + tightly around him, and followed his host out of the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE MOST PRECIOUS LIFE IN EUROPE + </h2> + <p> + Once more he was being led through the interminable corridors of the + gigantic building. Once more from the narrow, barred windows close by him + he heard the heart-breaking sighs, the moans, the curses which spoke of + tragedies that he could only guess. + </p> + <p> + Heron was walking on ahead of him, preceding him by some fifty metres or + so, his long legs covering the distances more rapidly than de Batz could + follow them. The latter knew his way well about the old prison. Few men in + Paris possessed that accurate knowledge of its intricate passages and its + network of cells and halls which de Batz had acquired after close and + persevering study. + </p> + <p> + He himself could have led Heron to the doors of the tower where the little + Dauphin was being kept imprisoned, but unfortunately he did not possess + the keys that would open all the doors which led to it. There were + sentinels at every gate, groups of soldiers at each end of every corridor, + the great—now empty—courtyards, thronged with prisoners in the + daytime, were alive with soldiery even now. Some walked up and down with + fixed bayonet on shoulder, others sat in groups on the stone copings or + squatted on the ground, smoking or playing cards, but all of them were + alert and watchful. + </p> + <p> + Heron was recognised everywhere the moment he appeared, and though in + these days of equality no one presented arms, nevertheless every guard + stood aside to let him pass, or when necessary opened a gate for the + powerful chief agent of the Committee of General Security. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, de Batz had no keys such as these to open the way for him to the + presence of the martyred little King. + </p> + <p> + Thus the two men wended their way on in silence, one preceding the other. + De Batz walked leisurely, thought-fully, taking stock of everything he saw—the + gates, the barriers, the positions of sentinels and warders, of everything + in fact that might prove a help or a hindrance presently, when the great + enterprise would be hazarded. At last—still in the wake of Heron—he + found himself once more behind the main entrance gate, underneath the + archway on which gave the guichet of the concierge. + </p> + <p> + Here, too, there seemed to be an unnecessary number of soldiers: two were + doing sentinel outside the guichet, but there were others in a file + against the wall. + </p> + <p> + Heron rapped with his keys against the door of the concierge’s lodge, + then, as it was not immediately opened from within, he pushed it open with + his foot. + </p> + <p> + “The concierge?” he queried peremptorily. + </p> + <p> + From a corner of the small panelled room there came a grunt and a reply: + </p> + <p> + “Gone to bed, quoi!” + </p> + <p> + The man who previously had guided de Batz to Heron’s door slowly struggled + to his feet. He had been squatting somewhere in the gloom, and had been + roused by Heron’s rough command. He slouched forward now still carrying a + boot in one hand and a blacking brush in the other. + </p> + <p> + “Take this lanthorn, then,” said the chief agent with a snarl directed at + the sleeping concierge, “and come along. Why are you still here?” he + added, as if in after-thought. + </p> + <p> + “The citizen concierge was not satisfied with the way I had done his + boots,” muttered the man, with an evil leer as he spat contemptuously on + the floor; “an aristo, quoi? A hell of a place this... twenty cells to + sweep out every day... and boots to clean for every aristo of a concierge + or warder who demands it.... Is that work for a free born patriot, I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you are not satisfied, citoyen Dupont,” retorted Heron dryly, + “you may go when you like, you know there are plenty of others ready to do + your work...” + </p> + <p> + “Nineteen hours a day, and nineteen sous by way of payment.... I have had + fourteen days of this convict work...” + </p> + <p> + He continued to mutter under his breath, whilst Heron, paying no further + heed to him, turned abruptly towards a group of soldiers stationed + outside. + </p> + <p> + “En avant, corporal!” he said; “bring four men with you... we go up to the + tower.” + </p> + <p> + The small procession was formed. On ahead the lanthorn-bearer, with arched + spine and shaking knees, dragging shuffling footsteps along the corridor, + then the corporal with two of his soldiers, then Heron closely followed by + de Batz, and finally two more soldiers bringing up the rear. + </p> + <p> + Heron had given the bunch of keys to the man Dupont. The latter, on ahead, + holding the lanthorn aloft, opened one gate after another. At each gate he + waited for the little procession to file through, then he re-locked the + gate and passed on. + </p> + <p> + Up two or three flights of winding stairs set in the solid stone, and the + final heavy door was reached. + </p> + <p> + De Batz was meditating. Heron’s precautions for the safe-guarding of the + most precious life in Europe were more complete than he had anticipated. + What lavish liberality would be required! what superhuman ingenuity and + boundless courage in order to break down all the barriers that had been + set up round that young life that flickered inside this grim tower! + </p> + <p> + Of these three requisites the corpulent, complacent intriguer possessed + only the first in a considerable degree. He could be exceedingly liberal + with the foreign money which he had at his disposal. As for courage and + ingenuity, he believed that he possessed both, but these qualities had not + served him in very good stead in the attempts which he had made at + different times to rescue the unfortunate members of the Royal Family from + prison. His overwhelming egotism would not admit for a moment that in + ingenuity and pluck the Scarlet Pimpernel and his English followers could + outdo him, but he did wish to make quite sure that they would not + interfere with him in the highly remunerative work of saving the Dauphin. + </p> + <p> + Heron’s impatient call roused him from these meditations. The little party + had come to a halt outside a massive iron-studded door. + </p> + <p> + At a sign from the chief agent the soldiers stood at attention. He then + called de Batz and the lanthorn-bearer to him. + </p> + <p> + He took a key from his breeches pocket, and with his own hand unlocked the + massive door. He curtly ordered the lanthorn-bearer and de Batz to go + through, then he himself went in, and finally once more re-locked the door + behind him, the soldiers remaining on guard on the landing outside. + </p> + <p> + Now the three men were standing in a square antechamber, dank and dark, + devoid of furniture save for a large cupboard that filled the whole of one + wall; the others, mildewed and stained, were covered with a greyish paper, + which here and there hung away in strips. + </p> + <p> + Heron crossed this ante-chamber, and with his knuckles rapped against a + small door opposite. + </p> + <p> + “Hola!” he shouted, “Simon, mon vieux, tu es la?” + </p> + <p> + From the inner room came the sound of voices, a man’s and a woman’s, and + now, as if in response to Heron’s call, the shrill tones of a child. There + was some shuffling, too, of footsteps, and some pushing about of + furniture, then the door was opened, and a gruff voice invited the belated + visitors to enter. + </p> + <p> + The atmosphere in this further room was so thick that at first de Batz was + only conscious of the evil smells that pervaded it; smells which were made + up of the fumes of tobacco, of burning coke, of a smoky lamp, and of stale + food, and mingling through it all the pungent odour of raw spirits. + </p> + <p> + Heron had stepped briskly in, closely followed by de Batz. The man Dupont + with a mutter of satisfaction put down his lanthorn and curled himself up + in a corner of the antechamber. His interest in the spectacle so favoured + by citizen Heron had apparently been exhausted by constant repetition. + </p> + <p> + De Batz looked round him with keen curiosity with which disgust was ready + enough to mingle. + </p> + <p> + The room itself might have been a large one; it was almost impossible to + judge of its size, so crammed was it with heavy and light furniture of + every conceivable shape and type. There was a monumental wooden bedstead + in one corner, a huge sofa covered in black horsehair in another. A large + table stood in the centre of the room, and there were at least four + capacious armchairs round it. There were wardrobes and cabinets, a + diminutive washstand and a huge pier-glass, there were innumerable boxes + and packing-cases, cane-bottomed chairs and what-nots every-where. The + place looked like a depot for second-hand furniture. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of all the litter de Batz at last became conscious of two + people who stood staring at him and at Heron. He saw a man before him, + somewhat fleshy of build, with smooth, mouse-coloured hair brushed away + from a central parting, and ending in a heavy curl above each ear; the + eyes were wide open and pale in colour, the lips unusually thick and with + a marked downward droop. Close beside him stood a youngish-looking woman, + whose unwieldy bulk, however, and pallid skin revealed the sedentary life + and the ravages of ill-health. + </p> + <p> + Both appeared to regard Heron with a certain amount of awe, and de Batz + with a vast measure of curiosity. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the woman stood aside, and in the far corner of the room there + was displayed to the Gascon Royalist’s cold, calculating gaze the pathetic + figure of the uncrowned King of France. + </p> + <p> + “How is it Capet is not yet in bed?” queried Heron as soon as he caught + sight of the child. + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn’t say his prayers this evening,” replied Simon with a coarse + laugh, “and wouldn’t drink his medicine. Bah!” he added with a snarl, + “this is a place for dogs and not for human folk.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are not satisfied, mon vieux,” retorted Heron curtly, “you can + send in your resignation when you like. There are plenty who will be glad + of the place.” + </p> + <p> + The ex-cobbler gave another surly growl and expectorated on the floor in + the direction where stood the child. + </p> + <p> + “Little vermin,” he said, “he is more trouble than man or woman can bear.” + </p> + <p> + The boy in the meanwhile seemed to take but little notice of the vulgar + insults put upon him by his guardian. He stood, a quaint, impassive little + figure, more interested apparently in de Batz, who was a stranger to him, + than in the three others whom he knew. De Batz noted that the child looked + well nourished, and that he was warmly clad in a rough woollen shirt and + cloth breeches, with coarse grey stockings and thick shoes; but he also + saw that the clothes were indescribably filthy, as were the child’s hands + and face. The golden curls, among which a young and queenly mother had + once loved to pass her slender perfumed fingers, now hung bedraggled, + greasy, and lank round the little face, from the lines of which every + trace of dignity and of simplicity had long since been erased. + </p> + <p> + There was no look of the martyr about this child now, even though, mayhap, + his small back had often smarted under his vulgar tutor’s rough blows; + rather did the pale young face wear the air of sullen indifference, and an + abject desire to please, which would have appeared heart-breaking to any + spectator less self-seeking and egotistic than was this Gascon + conspirator. + </p> + <p> + Madame Simon had called him to her while her man and the citizen Heron + were talking, and the child went readily enough, without any sign of fear. + She took the corner of her coarse dirty apron in her hand, and wiped the + boy’s mouth and face with it. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t keep him clean,” she said with an apologetic shrug of the + shoulders and a look at de Batz. “There now,” she added, speaking once + more to the child, “drink like a good boy, and say your lesson to please + maman, and then you shall go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + She took a glass from the table, which was filled with a clear liquid that + de Batz at first took to be water, and held it to the boy’s lips. He + turned his head away and began to whimper. + </p> + <p> + “Is the medicine very nasty?” queried de Batz. + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu! but no, citizen,” exclaimed the woman, “it is good strong eau + de vie, the best that can be procured. Capet likes it really—don’t + you, Capet? It makes you happy and cheerful, and sleep well of nights. + Why, you had a glassful yesterday and enjoyed it. Take it now,” she added + in a quick whisper, seeing that Simon and Heron were in close conversation + together; “you know it makes papa angry if you don’t have at least half a + glass now and then.” + </p> + <p> + The child wavered for a moment longer, making a quaint little grimace of + distaste. But at last he seemed to make up his mind that it was wisest to + yield over so small a matter, and he took the glass from Madame Simon. + </p> + <p> + And thus did de Batz see the descendant of St. Louis quaffing a glass of + raw spirit at the bidding of a rough cobbler’s wife, whom he called by the + fond and foolish name sacred to childhood, maman! + </p> + <p> + Selfish egoist though he was, de Batz turned away in loathing. + </p> + <p> + Simon had watched the little scene with obvious satisfaction. He chuckled + audibly when the child drank the spirit, and called Heron’s attention to + him, whilst a look of triumph lit up his wide, pale eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And now, mon petit,” he said jovially, “let the citizen hear you say your + prayers!” + </p> + <p> + He winked toward de Batz, evidently anticipating a good deal of enjoyment + for the visitor from what was coming. From a heap of litter in a corner of + the room he fetched out a greasy red bonnet adorned with a tricolour + cockade, and a soiled and tattered flag, which had once been white, and + had golden fleur-de-lys embroidered upon it. + </p> + <p> + The cap he set on the child’s head, and the flag he threw upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Capet—your prayers!” he said with another chuckle of + amusement. + </p> + <p> + All his movements were rough, and his speech almost ostentatiously coarse. + He banged against the furniture as he moved about the room, kicking a + footstool out of the way or knocking over a chair. De Batz instinctively + thought of the perfumed stillness of the rooms at Versailles, of the army + of elegant high-born ladies who had ministered to the wants of this child, + who stood there now before him, a cap on his yellow hair, and his shoulder + held up to his ear with that gesture of careless indifference peculiar to + children when they are sullen or uncared for. + </p> + <p> + Obediently, quite mechanically it seemed, the boy trod on the flag which + Henri IV had borne before him at Ivry, and le Roi Soleil had flaunted in + the face of the armies of Europe. The son of the Bourbons was spitting on + their flag, and wiping his shoes upon its tattered folds. With shrill + cracked voice he sang the Carmagnole, “Ca ira! ca ira! les aristos a la + lanterne!” until de Batz himself felt inclined to stop his ears and to + rush from the place in horror. + </p> + <p> + Louis XVII, whom the hearts of many had proclaimed King of France by the + grace of God, the child of the Bourbons, the eldest son of the Church, was + stepping a vulgar dance over the flag of St. Louis, which he had been + taught to defile. His pale cheeks glowed as he danced, his eyes shone with + the unnatural light kindled in them by the intoxicating liquor; with one + slender hand he waved the red cap with the tricolour cockade, and shouted + “Vive la Republique!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Simon was clapping her hands, looking on the child with obvious + pride, and a kind of rough maternal affection. Simon was gazing on Heron + for approval, and the latter nodded his head, murmuring words of + encouragement and of praise. + </p> + <p> + “Thy catechism now, Capet—thy catechism,” shouted Simon in a hoarse + voice. + </p> + <p> + The boy stood at attention, cap on head, hands on his hips, legs wide + apart, and feet firmly planted on the fleur-de-lys, the glory of his + forefathers. + </p> + <p> + “Thy name?” queried Simon. + </p> + <p> + “Louis Capet,” replied the child in a clear, high-pitched voice. + </p> + <p> + “What art thou?” + </p> + <p> + “A citizen of the Republic of France.” + </p> + <p> + “What was thy father?” + </p> + <p> + “Louis Capet, ci-devant king, a tyrant who perished by the will of the + people!” + </p> + <p> + “What was thy mother?” + </p> + <p> + “A ——” + </p> + <p> + De Batz involuntarily uttered a cry of horror. Whatever the man’s private + character was, he had been born a gentleman, and his every instinct + revolted against what he saw and heard. The scene had positively sickened + him. He turned precipitately towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “How now, citizen?” queried the Committee’s agent with a sneer. “Are you + not satisfied with what you see?” + </p> + <p> + “Mayhap the citizen would like to see Capet sitting in a golden chair,” + interposed Simon the cobbler with a sneer, “and me and my wife kneeling + and kissing his hand—what?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis the heat of the room,” stammered de Batz, who was fumbling with the + lock of the door; “my head began to swim.” + </p> + <p> + “Spit on their accursed flag, then, like a good patriot, like Capet,” + retorted Simon gruffly. “Here, Capet, my son,” he added, pulling the boy + by the arm with a rough gesture, “get thee to bed; thou art quite drunk + enough to satisfy any good Republican.” + </p> + <p> + By way of a caress he tweaked the boy’s ear and gave him a prod in the + back with his bent knee. He was not wilfully unkind, for just now he was + not angry with the lad; rather was he vastly amused with the effect + Capet’s prayer and Capet’s recital of his catechism had had on the + visitor. + </p> + <p> + As to the lad, the intensity of excitement in him was immediately followed + by an overwhelming desire for sleep. Without any preliminary of undressing + or of washing, he tumbled, just as he was, on to the sofa. Madame Simon, + with quite pleasing solicitude, arranged a pillow under his head, and the + very next moment the child was fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis well, citoyen Simon,” said Heron in his turn, going towards the + door. “I’ll report favourably on you to the Committee of Public Security. + As for the citoyenne, she had best be more careful,” he added, turning to + the woman Simon with a snarl on his evil face. “There was no cause to + arrange a pillow under the head of that vermin’s spawn. Many good patriots + have no pillows to put under their heads. Take that pillow away; and I + don’t like the shoes on the brat’s feet; sabots are quite good enough.” + </p> + <p> + Citoyenne Simon made no reply. Some sort of retort had apparently hovered + on her lips, but had been checked, even before it was uttered, by a + peremptory look from her husband. Simon the cobbler, snarling in speech + but obsequious in manner, prepared to accompany the citizen agent to the + door. + </p> + <p> + De Batz was taking a last look at the sleeping child; the uncrowned King + of France was wrapped in a drunken sleep, with the last spoken insult upon + his dead mother still hovering on his childish lips. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. ARCADES AMBO + </h2> + <p> + “That is the way we conduct our affairs, citizen,” said Heron gruffly, as + he once more led his guest back into his office. + </p> + <p> + It was his turn to be complacent now. De Batz, for once in his life cowed + by what he had seen, still wore a look of horror and disgust upon his + florid face. + </p> + <p> + “What devils you all are!” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “We are good patriots,” retorted Heron, “and the tyrant’s spawn leads but + the life that hundreds of thousands of children led whilst his father + oppressed the people. Nay! what am I saying? He leads a far better, far + happier life. He gets plenty to eat and plenty of warm clothes. Thousands + of innocent children, who have not the crimes of a despot father upon + their conscience, have to starve whilst he grows fat.” + </p> + <p> + The leer in his face was so evil that once more de Batz felt that eerie + feeling of terror creeping into his bones. Here were cruelty and + bloodthirsty ferocity personified to their utmost extent. At thought of + the Bourbons, or of all those whom he considered had been in the past the + oppressors of the people, Heron was nothing but a wild and ravenous beast, + hungering for revenge, longing to bury his talons and his fangs into the + body of those whose heels had once pressed on his own neck. + </p> + <p> + And de Batz knew that even with millions or countless money at his command + he could not purchase from this carnivorous brute the life and liberty of + the son of King Louis. No amount of bribery would accomplish that; it + would have to be ingenuity pitted against animal force, the wiliness of + the fox against the power of the wolf. + </p> + <p> + Even now Heron was darting savagely suspicious looks upon him. + </p> + <p> + “I shall get rid of the Simons,” he said; “there’s something in that + woman’s face which I don’t trust. They shall go within the next few hours, + or as soon as I can lay my hands upon a better patriot than that + mealy-mouthed cobbler. And it will be better not to have a woman about the + place. Let me see—to-day is Thursday, or else Friday morning. By + Sunday I’ll get those Simons out of the place. Methought I saw you ogling + that woman,” he added, bringing his bony fist crashing down on the table + so that papers, pen, and inkhorn rattled loudly; “and if I thought that + you—” + </p> + <p> + De Batz thought it well at this point to finger once more nonchalantly the + bundle of crisp paper in the pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Only on that one condition,” reiterated Heron in a hoarse voice; “if you + try to get at Capet, I’ll drag you to the Tribunal with my own hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Always presuming that you can get me, my friend,” murmured de Batz, who + was gradually regaining his accustomed composure. + </p> + <p> + Already his active mind was busily at work. One or two things which he had + noted in connection with his visit to the Dauphin’s prison had struck him + as possibly useful in his schemes. But he was disappointed that Heron was + getting rid of the Simons. The woman might have been very useful and more + easily got at than a man. The avarice of the French bourgeoise would have + proved a promising factor. But this, of course, would now be out of the + question. At the same time it was not because Heron raved and stormed and + uttered cries like a hyena that he, de Batz, meant to give up an + enterprise which, if successful, would place millions into his own pocket. + </p> + <p> + As for that meddling Englishman, the Scarlet Pimpernel, and his + crack-brained followers, they must be effectually swept out of the way + first of all. De Batz felt that they were the real, the most likely + hindrance to his schemes. He himself would have to go very cautiously to + work, since apparently Heron would not allow him to purchase immunity for + himself in that one matter, and whilst he was laying his plans with + necessary deliberation so as to ensure his own safety, that accursed + Scarlet Pimpernel would mayhap snatch the golden prize from the Temple + prison right under his very nose. + </p> + <p> + When he thought of that the Gascon Royalist felt just as vindictive as did + the chief agent of the Committee of General Security. + </p> + <p> + While these thoughts were coursing through de Batz’ head, Heron had been + indulging in a volley of vituperation. + </p> + <p> + “If that little vermin escapes,” he said, “my life will not be worth an + hour’s purchase. In twenty-four hours I am a dead man, thrown to the + guillotine like those dogs of aristocrats! You say I am a night-bird, + citizen. I tell you that I do not sleep night or day thinking of that brat + and the means to keep him safely under my hand. I have never trusted those + Simons—” + </p> + <p> + “Not trusted them!” exclaimed de Batz; “surely you could not find anywhere + more inhuman monsters!” + </p> + <p> + “Inhuman monsters?” snarled Heron. “Bah! they don’t do their business + thoroughly; we want the tyrant’s spawn to become a true Republican and a + patriot—aye! to make of him such a one that even if you and your + cursed confederates got him by some hellish chance, he would be no use to + you as a king, a tyrant to set above the people, to set up in your + Versailles, your Louvre, to eat off golden plates and wear satin clothes. + You have seen the brat! By the time he is a man he should forget how to + eat save with his fingers, and get roaring drunk every night. That’s what + we want!—to make him so that he shall be no use to you, even if you + did get him away; but you shall not! You shall not, not if I have to + strangle him with my own hands.” + </p> + <p> + He picked up his short-stemmed pipe and pulled savagely at it for awhile. + De Batz was meditating. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” he said after a little while, “you are agitating yourself + quite unnecessarily, and gravely jeopardising your prospects of getting a + comfortable little income through keeping your fingers off my person. Who + said I wanted to meddle with the child?” + </p> + <p> + “You had best not,” growled Heron. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. You have said that before. But do you not think that you would + be far wiser, instead of directing your undivided attention to my unworthy + self, to turn your thoughts a little to one whom, believe me, you have far + greater cause to fear?” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “The Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the man they call the Scarlet Pimpernel?” + </p> + <p> + “Himself. Have you not suffered from his activity, friend Heron? I fancy + that citizen Chauvelin and citizen Collot would have quite a tale to tell + about him.” + </p> + <p> + “They ought both to have been guillotined for that blunder last autumn at + Boulogne.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care that the same accusation be not laid at your door this year, my + friend,” commented de Batz placidly. + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” + </p> + <p> + “The Scarlet Pimpernel is in Paris even now.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil he is!” + </p> + <p> + “And on what errand, think you?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence, and then de Batz continued with slow and + dramatic emphasis: + </p> + <p> + “That of rescuing your most precious prisoner from the Temple.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” Heron queried savagely. + </p> + <p> + “I guessed.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw a man in the Theatre National to-day...” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Who is a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel.” + </p> + <p> + “D—— him! Where can I find him?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you sign a receipt for the three thousand five hundred livres, which + I am pining to hand over to you, my friend, and I will tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s the money?” + </p> + <p> + “In my pocket.” + </p> + <p> + Without further words Heron dragged the inkhorn and a sheet of paper + towards him, took up a pen, and wrote a few words rapidly in a loose, + scrawly hand. He strewed sand over the writing, then handed it across the + table to de Batz. + </p> + <p> + “Will that do?” he asked briefly. + </p> + <p> + The other was reading the note through carefully. + </p> + <p> + “I see you only grant me a fortnight,” he remarked casually. + </p> + <p> + “For that amount of money it is sufficient. If you want an extension you + must pay more.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” assented de Batz coolly, as he folded the paper across. “On + the whole a fortnight’s immunity in France these days is quite a pleasant + respite. And I prefer to keep in touch with you, friend Heron. I’ll call + on you again this day fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + He took out a letter-case from his pocket. Out of this he drew a packet of + bank-notes, which he laid on the table in front of Heron, then he placed + the receipt carefully into the letter-case, and this back into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Heron in the meanwhile was counting over the banknotes. The light of + ferocity had entirely gone from his eyes; momentarily the whole expression + of the face was one of satisfied greed. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he said at last when he had assured himself that the number of + notes was quite correct, and he had transferred the bundle of crisp papers + into an inner pocket of his coat—“well, what about your friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew him years ago,” rejoined de Batz coolly; “he is a kinsman of + citizen St. Just. I know that he is one of the confederates of the Scarlet + Pimpernel.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does he lodge?” + </p> + <p> + “That is for you to find out. I saw him at the theatre, and afterwards in + the green-room; he was making himself agreeable to the citizeness Lange. I + heard him ask for leave to call on her to-morrow at four o’clock. You know + where she lodges, of course!” + </p> + <p> + He watched Heron while the latter scribbled a few words on a scrap of + paper, then he quietly rose to go. He took up his cloak and once again + wrapped it round his shoulders. There was nothing more to be said, and he + was anxious to go. + </p> + <p> + The leave-taking between the two men was neither cordial nor more than + barely courteous. De Batz nodded to Heron, who escorted him to the outside + door of his lodging, and there called loudly to a soldier who was doing + sentinel at the further end of the corridor. + </p> + <p> + “Show this citizen the way to the guichet,” he said curtly. “Good-night, + citizen,” he added finally, nodding to de Batz. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later the Gascon once more found himself in the Rue du Temple + between the great outer walls of the prison and the silent little church + and convent of St. Elizabeth. He looked up to where in the central tower a + small grated window lighted from within showed the place where the last of + the Bourbons was being taught to desecrate the traditions of his race, at + the bidding of a mender of shoes—a naval officer cashiered for + misconduct and fraud. + </p> + <p> + Such is human nature in its self-satisfied complacency that de Batz, + calmly ignoring the vile part which he himself had played in the last + quarter of an hour of his interview with the Committee’s agent, found it + in him to think of Heron with loathing, and even of the cobbler Simon with + disgust. + </p> + <p> + Then with a self-righteous sense of duty performed, and an indifferent + shrug of the shoulders, he dismissed Heron from his mind. + </p> + <p> + “That meddlesome Scarlet Pimpernel will find his hands over-full + to-morrow, and mayhap will not interfere in my affairs for some time to + come,” he mused; “meseems that that will be the first time that a member + of his precious League has come within the clutches of such unpleasant + people as the sleuth-hounds of my friend Heron!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. WHAT LOVE CAN DO + </h2> + <p> + “Yesterday you were unkind and ungallant. How could I smile when you + seemed so stern?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday I was not alone with you. How could I say what lay next my + heart, when indifferent ears could catch the words that were meant only + for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur, do they teach you in England how to make pretty speeches?” + </p> + <p> + “No, mademoiselle, that is an instinct that comes into birth by the fire + of a woman’s eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Lange was sitting upon a small sofa of antique design, with + cushions covered in faded silks heaped round her pretty head. Armand + thought that she looked like that carved cameo which his sister Marguerite + possessed. + </p> + <p> + He himself sat on a low chair at some distance from her. He had brought + her a large bunch of early violets, for he knew that she was fond of + flowers, and these lay upon her lap, against the opalescent grey of her + gown. + </p> + <p> + She seemed a little nervous and agitated, his obvious admiration bringing + a ready blush to her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + The room itself appeared to Armand to be a perfect frame for the charming + picture which she presented. The furniture in it was small and old; tiny + tables of antique Vernis-Martin, softly faded tapestries, a pale-toned + Aubusson carpet. Everything mellow and in a measure pathetic. Mademoiselle + Lange, who was an orphan, lived alone under the duennaship of a + middle-aged relative, a penniless hanger-on of the successful young + actress, who acted as her chaperone, housekeeper, and maid, and kept + unseemly or over-bold gallants at bay. + </p> + <p> + She told Armand all about her early life, her childhood in the backshop of + Maitre Meziere, the jeweller, who was a relative of her mother’s; of her + desire for an artistic career, her struggles with the middle-class + prejudices of her relations, her bold defiance of them, and final + independence. + </p> + <p> + She made no secret of her humble origin, her want of education in those + days; on the contrary, she was proud of what she had accomplished for + herself. She was only twenty years of age, and already held a leading + place in the artistic world of Paris. + </p> + <p> + Armand listened to her chatter, interested in everything she said, + questioning her with sympathy and discretion. She asked him a good deal + about himself, and about his beautiful sister Marguerite, who, of course, + had been the most brilliant star in that most brilliant constellation, the + Comedie Francaise. She had never seen Marguerite St. Just act, but, of + course, Paris still rang with her praises, and all art-lovers regretted + that she should have married and left them to mourn for her. + </p> + <p> + Thus the conversation drifted naturally back to England. Mademoiselle + professed a vast interest in the citizen’s country of adoption. + </p> + <p> + “I had always,” she said, “thought it an ugly country, with the noise and + bustle of industrial life going on everywhere, and smoke and fog to cover + the landscape and to stunt the trees.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, in future, mademoiselle,” he replied, “must you think of it as one + carpeted with verdure, where in the spring the orchard trees covered with + delicate blossom would speak to you of fairyland, where the dewy grass + stretches its velvety surface in the shadow of ancient monumental oaks, + and ivy-covered towers rear their stately crowns to the sky.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Scarlet Pimpernel? Tell me about him, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, mademoiselle, what can I tell you that you do not already know? The + Scarlet Pimpernel is a man who has devoted his entire existence to the + benefit of suffering mankind. He has but one thought, and that is for + those who need him; he hears but one sound the cry of the oppressed.” + </p> + <p> + “But they do say, monsieur, that philanthropy plays but a sorry part in + your hero’s schemes. They aver that he looks on his own efforts and the + adventures through which he goes only in the light of sport.” + </p> + <p> + “Like all Englishmen, mademoiselle, the Scarlet Pimpernel is a little + ashamed of sentiment. He would deny its very existence with his lips, even + whilst his noble heart brimmed over with it. Sport? Well! mayhap the + sporting instinct is as keen as that of charity—the race for lives, + the tussle for the rescue of human creatures, the throwing of a life on + the hazard of a die.” + </p> + <p> + “They fear him in France, monsieur. He has saved so many whose death had + been decreed by the Committee of Public Safety.” + </p> + <p> + “Please God, he will save many yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur, the poor little boy in the Temple prison!” + </p> + <p> + “He has your sympathy, mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + “Of every right-minded woman in France, monsieur. Oh!” she added with a + pretty gesture of enthusiasm, clasping her hands together, and looking at + Armand with large eyes filled with tears, “if your noble Scarlet Pimpernel + will do aught to save that poor innocent lamb, I would indeed bless him in + my heart, and help him with all my humble might if I could.” + </p> + <p> + “May God’s saints bless you for those words, mademoiselle,” he said, + whilst, carried away by her beauty, her charm, her perfect femininity, he + stooped towards her until his knee touched the carpet at her feet. “I had + begun to lose my belief in my poor misguided country, to think all men in + France vile, and all women base. I could thank you on my knees for your + sweet words of sympathy, for the expression of tender motherliness that + came into your eyes when you spoke of the poor forsaken Dauphin in the + Temple.” + </p> + <p> + She did not restrain her tears; with her they came very easily, just as + with a child, and as they gathered in her eyes and rolled down her fresh + cheeks they in no way marred the charm of her face. One hand lay in her + lap fingering a diminutive bit of cambric, which from time to time she + pressed to her eyes. The other she had almost unconsciously yielded to + Armand. + </p> + <p> + The scent of the violets filled the room. It seemed to emanate from her, a + fitting attribute of her young, wholly unsophisticated girlhood. The + citizen was goodly to look at; he was kneeling at her feet, and his lips + were pressed against her hand. + </p> + <p> + Armand was young and he was an idealist. I do not for a moment imagine + that just at this moment he was deeply in love. The stronger feeling had + not yet risen up in him; it came later when tragedy encompassed him and + brought passion to sudden maturity. Just now he was merely yielding + himself up to the intoxicating moment, with all the abandonment, all the + enthusiasm of the Latin race. There was no reason why he should not bend + the knee before this exquisite little cameo, that by its very presence was + giving him an hour of perfect pleasure and of aesthetic joy. + </p> + <p> + Outside the world continued its hideous, relentless way; men butchered one + another, fought and hated. Here in this small old-world salon, with its + faded satins and bits of ivory-tinted lace, the outer universe had never + really penetrated. It was a tiny world—quite apart from the rest of + mankind, perfectly peaceful and absolutely beautiful. + </p> + <p> + If Armand had been allowed to depart from here now, without having been + the cause as well as the chief actor in the events that followed, no doubt + that Mademoiselle Lange would always have remained a charming memory with + him, an exquisite bouquet of violets pressed reverently between the leaves + of a favourite book of poems, and the scent of spring flowers would in + after years have ever brought her dainty picture to his mind. + </p> + <p> + He was murmuring pretty words of endearment; carried away by emotion, his + arm stole round her waist; he felt that if another tear came like a + dewdrop rolling down her cheek he must kiss it away at its very source. + Passion was not sweeping them off their feet—not yet, for they were + very young, and life had not as yet presented to them its most unsolvable + problem. + </p> + <p> + But they yielded to one another, to the springtime of their life, calling + for Love, which would come presently hand in hand with his grim attendant, + Sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Even as Armand’s glowing face was at last lifted up to hers asking with + mute lips for that first kiss which she already was prepared to give, + there came the loud noise of men’s heavy footsteps tramping up the old oak + stairs, then some shouting, a woman’s cry, and the next moment Madame + Belhomme, trembling, wide-eyed, and in obvious terror, came rushing into + the room. + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne! Jeanne! My child! It is awful! It is awful! Mon Dieu—mon + Dieu! What is to become of us?” + </p> + <p> + She was moaning and lamenting even as she ran in, and now she threw her + apron over her face and sank into a chair, continuing her moaning and her + lamentations. + </p> + <p> + Neither Mademoiselle nor Armand had stirred. They remained like graven + images, he on one knee, she with large eyes fixed upon his face. They had + neither of them looked on the old woman; they seemed even now unconscious + of her presence. But their ears had caught the sound of that measured + tramp of feet up the stairs of the old house, and the halt upon the + landing; they had heard the brief words of command: + </p> + <p> + “Open, in the name of the people!” + </p> + <p> + They knew quite well what it all meant; they had not wandered so far in + the realms of romance that reality—the grim, horrible reality of the + moment—had not the power to bring them back to earth. + </p> + <p> + That peremptory call to open in the name of the people was the prologue + these days to a drama which had but two concluding acts: arrest, which was + a certainty; the guillotine, which was more than probable. Jeanne and + Armand, these two young people who but a moment ago had tentatively lifted + the veil of life, looked straight into each other’s eyes and saw the hand + of death interposed between them: they looked straight into each other’s + eyes and knew that nothing but the hand of death would part them now. Love + had come with its attendant, Sorrow; but he had come with no uncertain + footsteps. Jeanne looked on the man before her, and he bent his head to + imprint a glowing kiss upon her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Marie!” + </p> + <p> + It was Jeanne Lange who spoke, but her voice was no longer that of an + irresponsible child; it was firm, steady and hard. Though she spoke to the + old woman, she did not look at her; her luminous brown eyes rested on the + bowed head of Armand St. Just. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Marie!” she repeated more peremptorily, for the old woman, with her + apron over her head, was still moaning, and unconscious of all save an + overmastering fear. + </p> + <p> + “Open, in the name of the people!” came in a loud harsh voice once more + from the other side of the front door. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Marie, as you value your life and mine, pull yourself together,” + said Jeanne firmly. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do? Oh! what shall we do?” moaned Madame Belhomme. But she + had dragged the apron away from her face, and was looking with some + puzzlement at meek, gentle little Jeanne, who had suddenly become so + strange, so dictatorial, all unlike her habitual somewhat diffident self. + </p> + <p> + “You need not have the slightest fear, Aunt Marie, if you will only do as + I tell you,” resumed Jeanne quietly; “if you give way to fear, we are all + of us undone. As you value your life and mine,” she now repeated + authoritatively, “pull yourself together, and do as I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + The girl’s firmness, her perfect quietude had the desired effect. Madame + Belhomme, though still shaken up with sobs of terror, made a great effort + to master herself; she stood up, smoothed down her apron, passed her hand + over her ruffled hair, and said in a quaking voice: + </p> + <p> + “What do you think we had better do?” + </p> + <p> + “Go quietly to the door and open it.” + </p> + <p> + “But—the soldiers—” + </p> + <p> + “If you do not open quietly they will force the door open within the next + two minutes,” interposed Jeanne calmly. “Go quietly and open the door. Try + and hide your fears, grumble in an audible voice at being interrupted in + your cooking, and tell the soldiers at once that they will find + mademoiselle in the boudoir. Go, for God’s sake!” she added, whilst + suppressed emotion suddenly made her young voice vibrate; “go, before they + break open that door!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Belhomme, impressed and cowed, obeyed like an automaton. She turned + and marched fairly straight out of the room. It was not a minute too soon. + From outside had already come the third and final summons: + </p> + <p> + “Open, in the name of the people!” + </p> + <p> + After that a crowbar would break open the door. + </p> + <p> + Madame Belhomme’s heavy footsteps were heard crossing the ante-chamber. + Armand still knelt at Jeanne’s feet, holding her trembling little hand in + his. + </p> + <p> + “A love-scene,” she whispered rapidly, “a love-scene—quick—do + you know one?” + </p> + <p> + And even as he had tried to rise she held him back, down on his knees. + </p> + <p> + He thought that fear was making her distracted. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle—” he murmured, trying to soothe her. + </p> + <p> + “Try and understand,” she said with wonderful calm, “and do as I tell you. + Aunt Marie has obeyed. Will you do likewise?” + </p> + <p> + “To the death!” he whispered eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Then a love-scene,” she entreated. “Surely you know one. Rodrigue and + Chimene! Surely—surely,” she urged, even as tears of anguish rose + into her eyes, “you must—you must, or, if not that, something else. + Quick! The very seconds are precious!” + </p> + <p> + They were indeed! Madame Belhomme, obedient as a frightened dog, had gone + to the door and opened it; even her well-feigned grumblings could now be + heard and the rough interrogations from the soldiery. + </p> + <p> + “Citizeness Lange!” said a gruff voice. + </p> + <p> + “In her boudoir, quoi!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Belhomme, braced up apparently by fear, was playing her part + remarkably well. + </p> + <p> + “Bothering good citizens! On baking day, too!” she went on grumbling and + muttering. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, think—think!” murmured Jeanne now in an agonised whisper, her + hot little hand grasping his so tightly that her nails were driven into + his flesh. “You must know something that will do—anything—for + dear life’s sake.... Armand!” + </p> + <p> + His name—in the tense excitement of this terrible moment—had + escaped her lips. + </p> + <p> + All in a flash of sudden intuition he understood what she wanted, and even + as the door of the boudoir was thrown violently open Armand—still on + his knees, but with one hand pressed to his heart, the other stretched + upwards to the ceiling in the most approved dramatic style, was loudly + declaiming: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Pour venger son honneur il perdit son amour, + Pour venger sa maitresse il a quitte le jour!” + </pre> + <p> + Whereupon Mademoiselle Lange feigned the most perfect impatience. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, my good cousin,” she said with a pretty moue of disdain, “that + will never do! You must not thus emphasise the end of every line; the + verses should flow more evenly, as thus....” + </p> + <p> + Heron had paused at the door. It was he who had thrown it open—he + who, followed by a couple of his sleuth-hounds, had thought to find here + the man denounced by de Batz as being one of the followers of that + irrepressible Scarlet Pimpernel. The obviously Parisian intonation of the + man kneeling in front of citizeness Lange in an attitude no ways + suggestive of personal admiration, and coolly reciting verses out of a + play, had somewhat taken him aback. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” he asked gruffly, striding forward into the room + and glaring first at mademoiselle, then at Armand. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle gave a little cry of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, if it isn’t citizen Heron!” she cried, jumping up with a dainty + movement of coquetry and embarrassment. “Why did not Aunt Marie announce + you?... It is indeed remiss of her, but she is so ill-tempered on baking + days I dare not even rebuke her. Won’t you sit down, citizen Heron? And + you, cousin,” she added, looking down airily on Armand, “I pray you + maintain no longer that foolish attitude.” + </p> + <p> + The febrileness of her manner, the glow in her cheeks were easily + attributable to natural shyness in face of this unexpected visit. Heron, + completely bewildered by this little scene, which was so unlike what he + expected, and so unlike those to which he was accustomed in the exercise + of his horrible duties, was practically speechless before the little lady + who continued to prattle along in a simple, unaffected manner. + </p> + <p> + “Cousin,” she said to Armand, who in the meanwhile had risen to his knees, + “this is citizen Heron, of whom you have heard me speak. My cousin + Belhomme,” she continued, once more turning to Heron, “is fresh from the + country, citizen. He hails from Orleans, where he has played leading parts + in the tragedies of the late citizen Corneille. But, ah me! I fear that he + will find Paris audiences vastly more critical than the good Orleanese. + Did you hear him, citizen, declaiming those beautiful verses just now? He + was murdering them, say I—yes, murdering them—the gaby!” + </p> + <p> + Then only did it seem as if she realised that there was something amiss, + that citizen Heron had come to visit her, not as an admirer of her talent + who would wish to pay his respects to a successful actress, but as a + person to be looked on with dread. + </p> + <p> + She gave a quaint, nervous little laugh, and murmured in the tones of a + frightened child: + </p> + <p> + “La, citizen, how glum you look! I thought you had come to compliment me + on my latest success. I saw you at the theatre last night, though you did + not afterwards come to see me in the green-room. Why! I had a regular + ovation! Look at my flowers!” she added more gaily, pointing to several + bouquets in vases about the room. “Citizen Danton brought me the violets + himself, and citizen Santerre the narcissi, and that laurel wreath—is + it not charming?—that was a tribute from citizen Robespierre + himself.” + </p> + <p> + She was so artless, so simple, and so natural that Heron was completely + taken off his usual mental balance. He had expected to find the usual + setting to the dramatic episodes which he was wont to conduct—screaming + women, a man either at bay, sword in hand, or hiding in a linen cupboard + or up a chimney. + </p> + <p> + Now everything puzzled him. De Batz—he was quite sure—had + spoken of an Englishman, a follower of the Scarlet Pimpernel; every + thinking French patriot knew that all the followers of the Scarlet + Pimpernel were Englishmen with red hair and prominent teeth, whereas this + man.... + </p> + <p> + Armand—who deadly danger had primed in his improvised role—was + striding up and down the room declaiming with ever-varying intonations: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Joignez tous vos efforts contre un espoir si doux + Pour en venir a bout, c’est trop peu que de vous.” + </pre> + <p> + “No! no!” said mademoiselle impatiently; “you must not make that ugly + pause midway in the last line: ‘pour en venir a bout, c’est trop peu que + de vous!’” + </p> + <p> + She mimicked Armand’s diction so quaintly, imitating his stride, his + awkward gesture, and his faulty phraseology with such funny exaggeration + that Heron laughed in spite of himself. + </p> + <p> + “So that is a cousin from Orleans, is it?” he asked, throwing his lanky + body into an armchair, which creaked dismally under his weight. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! a regular gaby—what?” she said archly. “Now, citizen Heron, + you must stay and take coffee with me. Aunt Marie will be bringing it in + directly. Hector,” she added, turning to Armand, “come down from the + clouds and ask Aunt Marie to be quick.” + </p> + <p> + This certainly was the first time in the whole of his experience that + Heron had been asked to stay and drink coffee with the quarry he was + hunting down. Mademoiselle’s innocent little ways, her desire for the + prolongation of his visit, further addled his brain. De Batz had + undoubtedly spoken of an Englishman, and the cousin from Orleans was + certainly a Frenchman every inch of him. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps had the denunciation come from any one else but de Batz, Heron + might have acted and thought more circumspectly; but, of course, the chief + agent of the Committee of General Security was more suspicious of the man + from whom he took a heavy bribe than of any one else in France. The + thought had suddenly crossed his mind that mayhap de Batz had sent him on + a fool’s errand in order to get him safely out of the way of the Temple + prison at a given hour of the day. + </p> + <p> + The thought took shape, crystallised, caused him to see a rapid vision of + de Batz sneaking into his lodgings and stealing his keys, the guard being + slack, careless, inattentive, allowing the adventurer to pass barriers + that should have been closed against all comers. + </p> + <p> + Now Heron was sure of it; it was all a conspiracy invented by de Batz. He + had forgotten all about his theories that a man under arrest is always + safer than a man that is free. Had his brain been quite normal, and not + obsessed, as it always was now by thoughts of the Dauphin’s escape from + prison, no doubt he would have been more suspicious of Armand, but all his + worst suspicions were directed against de Batz. Armand seemed to him just + a fool, an actor quoi? and so obviously not an Englishman. + </p> + <p> + He jumped to his feet, curtly declining mademoiselle’s offers of + hospitality. He wanted to get away at once. Actors and actresses were + always, by tacit consent of the authorities, more immune than the rest of + the community. They provided the only amusement in the intervals of the + horrible scenes around the scaffolds; they were irresponsible, harmless + creatures who did not meddle in politics. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne the while was gaily prattling on, her luminous eyes fixed upon the + all-powerful enemy, striving to read his thoughts, to understand what went + on behind those cruel, prominent eyes, the chances that Armand had of + safety and of life. + </p> + <p> + She knew, of course, that the visit was directed against Armand—some + one had betrayed him, that odious de Batz mayhap—and she was + fighting for Armand’s safety, for his life. Her armoury consisted of her + presence of mind, her cool courage, her self-control; she used all these + weapons for his sake, though at times she felt as if the strain on her + nerves would snap the thread of life in her. The effort seemed more than + she could bear. + </p> + <p> + But she kept up her part, rallying Heron for the shortness of his visit, + begging him to tarry for another five minutes at least, throwing out—with + subtle feminine intuition—just those very hints anent little Capet’s + safety that were most calculated to send him flying back towards the + Temple. + </p> + <p> + “I felt so honoured last night, citizen,” she said coquettishly, “that you + even forgot little Capet in order to come and watch my debut as Celimene.” + </p> + <p> + “Forget him!” retorted Heron, smothering a curse, “I never forget the + vermin. I must go back to him; there are too many cats nosing round my + mouse. Good day to you, citizeness. I ought to have brought flowers, I + know; but I am a busy man—a harassed man.” + </p> + <p> + “Je te crois,” she said with a grave nod of the head; “but do come to the + theatre to-night. I am playing Camille—such a fine part! one of my + greatest successes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I’ll come—mayhap, mayhap—but I’ll go now—glad + to have seen you, citizeness. Where does your cousin lodge?” he asked + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” she replied boldly, on the spur of the moment. + </p> + <p> + “Good. Let him report himself to-morrow morning at the Conciergerie, and + get his certificate of safety. It is a new decree, and you should have + one, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then. Hector and I will come together, and perhaps Aunt Marie + will come too. Don’t send us to maman guillotine yet awhile, citizen,” she + said lightly; “you will never get such another Camille, nor yet so good a + Celimene.” + </p> + <p> + She was gay, artless to the last. She accompanied Heron to the door + herself, chaffing him about his escort. + </p> + <p> + “You are an aristo, citizen,” she said, gazing with well-feigned + admiration on the two sleuth-hounds who stood in wait in the anteroom; “it + makes me proud to see so many citizens at my door. Come and see me play + Camille—come to-night, and don’t forget the green-room door—it + will always be kept invitingly open for you.” + </p> + <p> + She bobbed him a curtsey, and he walked out, closely followed by his two + men; then at last she closed the door behind them. She stood there for a + while, her ear glued against the massive panels, listening for their + measured tread down the oak staircase. At last it rang more sharply + against the flagstones of the courtyard below; then she was satisfied that + they had gone, and went slowly back to the boudoir. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. SHADOWS + </h2> + <p> + The tension on her nerves relaxed; there was the inevitable reaction. Her + knees were shaking under her, and she literally staggered into the room. + </p> + <p> + But Armand was already near her, down on both his knees this time, his + arms clasping the delicate form that swayed like the slender stems of + narcissi in the breeze. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you must go out of Paris at once—at once,” she said through + sobs which no longer would be kept back. + </p> + <p> + “He’ll return—I know that he will return—and you will not be + safe until you are back in England.” + </p> + <p> + But he could not think of himself or of anything in the future. He had + forgotten Heron, Paris, the world; he could only think of her. + </p> + <p> + “I owe my life to you!” he murmured. “Oh, how beautiful you are—how + brave! How I love you!” + </p> + <p> + It seemed that he had always loved her, from the moment that first in his + boyish heart he had set up an ideal to worship, and then, last night, in + the box of the theatre—he had his back turned toward the stage, and + was ready to go—her voice had called him back; it had held him + spellbound; her voice, and also her eyes.... He did not know then that it + was Love which then and there had enchained him. Oh, how foolish he had + been! for now he knew that he had loved her with all his might, with all + his soul, from the very instant that his eyes had rested upon her. + </p> + <p> + He babbled along—incoherently—in the intervals of covering her + hands and the hem of her gown with kisses. He stooped right down to the + ground and kissed the arch of her instep; he had become a devotee + worshipping at the shrine of his saint, who had performed a great and a + wonderful miracle. + </p> + <p> + Armand the idealist had found his ideal in a woman. That was the great + miracle which the woman herself had performed for him. He found in her all + that he had admired most, all that he had admired in the leader who + hitherto had been the only personification of his ideal. But Jeanne + possessed all those qualities which had roused his enthusiasm in the noble + hero whom he revered. Her pluck, her ingenuity, her calm devotion which + had averted the threatened danger from him! + </p> + <p> + What had he done that she should have risked her own sweet life for his + sake? + </p> + <p> + But Jeanne did not know. She could not tell. Her nerves now were somewhat + unstrung, and the tears that always came so readily to her eyes flowed + quite unchecked. She could not very well move, for he held her knees + imprisoned in his arms, but she was quite content to remain like this, and + to yield her hands to him so that he might cover them with kisses. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, she did not know at what precise moment love for him had been born + in her heart. Last night, perhaps... she could not say ... but when they + parted she felt that she must see him again... and then today... perhaps + it was the scent of the violets... they were so exquisitely sweet... + perhaps it was his enthusiasm and his talk about England... but when Heron + came she knew that she must save Armand’s life at all cost... that she + would die if they dragged him away to prison. + </p> + <p> + Thus these two children philosophised, trying to understand the mystery of + the birth of Love. But they were only children; they did not really + understand. Passion was sweeping them off their feet, because a common + danger had bound them irrevocably to one another. The womanly instinct to + save and to protect had given the young girl strength to bear a difficult + part, and now she loved him for the dangers from which she had rescued + him, and he loved her because she had risked her life for him. + </p> + <p> + The hours sped on; there was so much to say, so much that was exquisite to + listen to. The shades of evening were gathering fast; the room, with its + pale-toned hangings and faded tapestries, was sinking into the arms of + gloom. Aunt Marie was no doubt too terrified to stir out of her kitchen; + she did not bring the lamps, but the darkness suited Armand’s mood, and + Jeanne was glad that the gloaming effectually hid the perpetual blush in + her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + In the evening air the dying flowers sent their heady fragrance around. + Armand was intoxicated with the perfume of violets that clung to Jeanne’s + fingers, with the touch of her satin gown that brushed his cheek, with the + murmur of her voice that quivered through her tears. + </p> + <p> + No noise from the ugly outer world reached this secluded spot. In the tiny + square outside a street lamp had been lighted, and its feeble rays came + peeping in through the lace curtains at the window. They caught the dainty + silhouette of the young girl, playing with the loose tendrils of her hair + around her forehead, and outlining with a thin band of light the contour + of neck and shoulder, making the satin of her gown shimmer with an + opalescent glow. + </p> + <p> + Armand rose from his knees. Her eyes were calling to him, her lips were + ready to yield. + </p> + <p> + “Tu m’aimes?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + And like a tired child she sank upon his breast. + </p> + <p> + He kissed her hair, her eyes, her lips; her skin was fragrant as the + flowers of spring, the tears on her cheeks glistened like morning dew. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Marie came in at last, carrying the lamp. She found them sitting side + by side, like two children, hand in hand, mute with the eloquence which + comes from boundless love. They were under a spell, forgetting even that + they lived, knowing nothing except that they loved. + </p> + <p> + The lamp broke the spell, and Aunt Marie’s still trembling voice: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear! how did you manage to rid yourself of those brutes?” + </p> + <p> + But she asked no other question, even when the lamp showed up quite + clearly the glowing cheeks of Jeanne and the ardent eyes of Armand. In her + heart, long since atrophied, there were a few memories, carefully put away + in a secret cell, and those memories caused the old woman to understand. + </p> + <p> + Neither Jeanne nor Armand noticed what she did; the spell had been broken, + but the dream lingered on; they did not see Aunt Marie putting the room + tidy, and then quietly tiptoeing out by the door. + </p> + <p> + But through the dream, reality was struggling for recognition. After + Armand had asked for the hundredth time: “Tu m’aimes?” and Jeanne for the + hundredth time had replied mutely with her eyes, her fears for him + suddenly returned. + </p> + <p> + Something had awakened her from her trance—a heavy footstep, mayhap, + in the street below, the distant roll of a drum, or only the clash of + steel saucepans in Aunt Marie’s kitchen. But suddenly Jeanne was alert, + and with her alertness came terror for the beloved. + </p> + <p> + “Your life,” she said—for he had called her his life just then, + “your life—and I was forgetting that it is still in danger... your + dear, your precious life!” + </p> + <p> + “Doubly dear now,” he replied, “since I owe it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I pray you, I entreat you, guard it well for my sake—make all + haste to leave Paris... oh, this I beg of you!” she continued more + earnestly, seeing the look of demur in his eyes; “every hour you spend in + it brings danger nearer to your door.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not leave Paris while you are here.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am safe here,” she urged; “quite, quite safe, I assure you. I am + only a poor actress, and the Government takes no heed of us mimes. Men + must be amused, even between the intervals of killing one another. Indeed, + indeed, I should be far safer here now, waiting quietly for awhile, while + you make preparations to go... My hasty departure at this moment would + bring disaster on us both.” + </p> + <p> + There was logic in what she said. And yet how could he leave her? now that + he had found this perfect woman—this realisation of his highest + ideals, how could he go and leave her in this awful Paris, with brutes + like Heron forcing their hideous personality into her sacred presence, + threatening that very life he would gladly give his own to keep inviolate? + </p> + <p> + “Listen, sweetheart,” he said after awhile, when presently reason + struggled back for first place in his mind. “Will you allow me to consult + with my chief, with the Scarlet Pimpernel, who is in Paris at the present + moment? I am under his orders; I could not leave France just now. My life, + my entire person are at his disposal. I and my comrades are here under his + orders, for a great undertaking which he has not yet unfolded to us, but + which I firmly believe is framed for the rescue of the Dauphin from the + Temple.” + </p> + <p> + She gave an involuntary exclamation of horror. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” she said quickly and earnestly; “as far as you are concerned, + Armand, that has now become an impossibility. Some one has betrayed you, + and you are henceforth a marked man. I think that odious de Batz had a + hand in Heron’s visit of this afternoon. We succeeded in putting these + spies off the scent, but only for a moment... within a few hours—less + perhaps—Heron will repent him of his carelessness; he’ll come back—I + know that he will come back. He may leave me, personally, alone; but he + will be on your track; he’ll drag you to the Conciergerie to report + yourself, and there your true name and history are bound to come to light. + If you succeed in evading him, he will still be on your track. If the + Scarlet Pimpernel keeps you in Paris now, your death will be at his door.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice had become quite hard and trenchant as she said these last + words; womanlike, she was already prepared to hate the man whose + mysterious personality she had hitherto admired, now that the life and + safety of Armand appeared to depend on the will of that elusive hero. + </p> + <p> + “You must not be afraid for me, Jeanne,” he urged. “The Scarlet Pimpernel + cares for all his followers; he would never allow me to run unnecessary + risks.” + </p> + <p> + She was unconvinced, almost jealous now of his enthusiasm for that unknown + man. Already she had taken full possession of Armand; she had purchased + his life, and he had given her his love. She would share neither treasure + with that nameless leader who held Armand’s allegiance. + </p> + <p> + “It is only for a little while, sweetheart,” he reiterated again and + again. “I could not, anyhow, leave Paris whilst I feel that you are here, + maybe in danger. The thought would be horrible. I should go mad if I had + to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + Then he talked again of England, of his life there, of the happiness and + peace that were in store for them both. + </p> + <p> + “We will go to England together,” he whispered, “and there we will be + happy together, you and I. We will have a tiny house among the Kentish + hills, and its walls will be covered with honeysuckle and roses. At the + back of the house there will be an orchard, and in May, when the + fruit-blossom is fading and soft spring breezes blow among the trees, + showers of sweet-scented petals will envelop us as we walk along, falling + on us like fragrant snow. You will come, sweetheart, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “If you still wish it, Armand,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Still wish it! He would gladly go to-morrow if she would come with him. + But, of course, that could not be arranged. She had her contract to fulfil + at the theatre, then there would be her house and furniture to dispose of, + and there was Aunt Marie.... But, of course, Aunt Marie would come too.... + She thought that she could get away some time before the spring; and he + swore that he could not leave Paris until she came with him. + </p> + <p> + It seemed a terrible deadlock, for she could not bear to think of him + alone in those awful Paris streets, where she knew that spies would always + be tracking him. She had no illusions as to the impression which she had + made on Heron; she knew that it could only be a momentary one, and that + Armand would henceforth be in daily, hourly danger. + </p> + <p> + At last she promised him that she would take the advice of his chief; they + would both be guided by what he said. Armand would confide in him + to-night, and if it could be arranged she would hurry on her preparations + and, mayhap, be ready to join him in a week. + </p> + <p> + “In the meanwhile, that cruel man must not risk your dear life,” she said. + “Remember, Armand, your life belongs to me. Oh, I could hate him for the + love you bear him!” + </p> + <p> + “Sh—sh—sh!” he said earnestly. “Dear heart, you must not speak + like that of the man whom, next to your perfect self, I love most upon + earth.” + </p> + <p> + “You think of him more than of me. I shall scarce live until I know that + you are safely out of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + Though it was horrible to part, yet it was best, perhaps, that he should + go back to his lodgings now, in case Heron sent his spies back to her + door, and since he meant to consult with his chief. She had a vague hope + that if the mysterious hero was indeed the noble-hearted man whom Armand + represented him to be, surely he would take compassion on the anxiety of a + sorrowing woman, and release the man she loved from bondage. + </p> + <p> + This thought pleased her and gave her hope. She even urged Armand now to + go. + </p> + <p> + “When may I see you to-morrow?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “But it will be so dangerous to meet,” she argued. + </p> + <p> + “I must see you. I could not live through the day without seeing you.” + </p> + <p> + “The theatre is the safest place.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not wait till the evening. May I not come here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Heron’s spies may be about.” + </p> + <p> + “Where then?” + </p> + <p> + She thought it over for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “At the stage-door of the theatre at one o’clock,” she said at last. “We + shall have finished rehearsal. Slip into the guichet of the concierge. I + will tell him to admit you, and send my dresser to meet you there; she + will bring you along to my room, where we shall be undisturbed for at + least half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + He had perforce to be content with that, though he would so much rather + have seen her here again, where the faded tapestries and soft-toned + hangings made such a perfect background for her delicate charm. He had + every intention of confiding in Blakeney, and of asking his help for + getting Jeanne out of Paris as quickly as may be. + </p> + <p> + Thus this perfect hour was past; the most pure, the fullest of joy that + these two young people were ever destined to know. Perhaps they felt + within themselves the consciousness that their great love would rise anon + to yet greater, fuller perfection when Fate had crowned it with his halo + of sorrow. Perhaps, too, it was that consciousness that gave to their + kisses now the solemnity of a last farewell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL + </h2> + <p> + Armand never could say definitely afterwards whither he went when he left + the Square du Roule that evening. No doubt he wandered about the streets + for some time in an absent, mechanical way, paying no heed to the + passers-by, none to the direction in which he was going. + </p> + <p> + His mind was full of Jeanne, her beauty, her courage, her attitude in face + of the hideous bloodhound who had come to pollute that charming old-world + boudoir by his loathsome presence. He recalled every word she uttered, + every gesture she made. + </p> + <p> + He was a man in love for the first time—wholly, irremediably in + love. + </p> + <p> + I suppose that it was the pangs of hunger that first recalled him to + himself. It was close on eight o’clock now, and he had fed on his + imaginings—first on anticipation, then on realisation, and lastly on + memory—during the best part of the day. Now he awoke from his + day-dream to find himself tired and hungry, but fortunately not very far + from that quarter of Paris where food is easily obtainable. + </p> + <p> + He was somewhere near the Madeleine—a quarter he knew well. Soon he + saw in front of him a small eating-house which looked fairly clean and + orderly. He pushed open its swing-door, and seeing an empty table in a + secluded part of the room, he sat down and ordered some supper. + </p> + <p> + The place made no impression upon his memory. He could not have told you + an hour later where it was situated, who had served him, what he had + eaten, or what other persons were present in the dining-room at the time + that he himself entered it. + </p> + <p> + Having eaten, however, he felt more like his normal self—more + conscious of his actions. When he finally left the eating-house, he + realised, for instance, that it was very cold—a fact of which he had + for the past few hours been totally unaware. The snow was falling in thin + close flakes, and a biting north-easterly wind was blowing those flakes + into his face and down his collar. He wrapped his cloak tightly around + him. It was a good step yet to Blakeney’s lodgings, where he knew that he + was expected. + </p> + <p> + He struck quickly into the Rue St. Honore, avoiding the great open places + where the grim horrors of this magnificent city in revolt against + civilisation were displayed in all their grim nakedness—on the Place + de la Revolution the guillotine, on the Carrousel the open-air camps of + workers under the lash of slave-drivers more cruel than the uncivilised + brutes of the Far West. + </p> + <p> + And Armand had to think of Jeanne in the midst of all these horrors. She + was still a petted actress to-day, but who could tell if on the morrow the + terrible law of the “suspect” would not reach her in order to drag her + before a tribunal that knew no mercy, and whose sole justice was a + condemnation? + </p> + <p> + The young man hurried on; he was anxious to be among his own comrades, to + hear his chief’s pleasant voice, to feel assured that by all the sacred + laws of friendship Jeanne henceforth would become the special care of the + Scarlet Pimpernel and his league. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney lodged in a small house situated on the Quai de l’Ecole, at the + back of St. Germain l’Auxerrois, from whence he had a clear and + uninterrupted view across the river, as far as the irregular block of + buildings of the Chatelet prison and the house of Justice. + </p> + <p> + The same tower-clock that two centuries ago had tolled the signal for the + massacre of the Huguenots was even now striking nine. Armand slipped + through the half-open porte cochere, crossed the narrow dark courtyard, + and ran up two flights of winding stone stairs. At the top of these, a + door on his right allowed a thin streak of light to filtrate between its + two folds. An iron bell handle hung beside it; Armand gave it a pull. + </p> + <p> + Two minutes later he was amongst his friends. He heaved a great sigh of + content and relief. The very atmosphere here seemed to be different. As + far as the lodging itself was concerned, it was as bare, as devoid of + comfort as those sort of places—so-called chambres garnies—usually + were in these days. The chairs looked rickety and uninviting, the sofa was + of black horsehair, the carpet was threadbare, and in places in actual + holes; but there was a certain something in the air which revealed, in the + midst of all this squalor, the presence of a man of fastidious taste. + </p> + <p> + To begin with, the place was spotlessly clean; the stove, highly polished, + gave forth a pleasing warm glow, even whilst the window, slightly open, + allowed a modicum of fresh air to enter the room. In a rough earthenware + jug on the table stood a large bunch of Christmas roses, and to the + educated nostril the slight scent of perfumes that hovered in the air was + doubly pleasing after the fetid air of the narrow streets. + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew Ffoulkes was there, also my Lord Tony, and Lord Hastings. They + greeted Armand with whole-hearted cheeriness. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Blakeney?” asked the young man as soon as he had shaken his + friends by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Present!” came in loud, pleasant accents from the door of an inner room + on the right. + </p> + <p> + And there he stood under the lintel of the door, the man against whom was + raised the giant hand of an entire nation—the man for whose head the + revolutionary government of France would gladly pay out all the savings of + its Treasury—the man whom human bloodhounds were tracking, hot on + the scent—for whom the nets of a bitter revenge and relentless + reprisals were constantly being spread. + </p> + <p> + Was he unconscious of it, or merely careless? His closest friend, Sir + Andrew Ffoulkes, could not say. Certain it is that, as he now appeared + before Armand, picturesque as ever in perfectly tailored clothes, with + priceless lace at throat and wrists, his slender fingers holding an + enamelled snuff-box and a handkerchief of delicate cambric, his whole + personality that of a dandy rather than a man of action, it seemed + impossible to connect him with the foolhardy escapades which had set one + nation glowing with enthusiasm and another clamouring for revenge. + </p> + <p> + But it was the magnetism that emanated from him that could not be denied; + the light that now and then, swift as summer lightning, flashed out from + the depths of the blue eyes usually veiled by heavy, lazy lids, the sudden + tightening of firm lips, the setting of the square jaw, which in a moment—but + only for the space of a second—transformed the entire face, and + revealed the born leader of men. + </p> + <p> + Just now there was none of that in the debonnair, easy-going man of the + world who advanced to meet his friend. Armand went quickly up to him, glad + to grasp his hand, slightly troubled with remorse, no doubt, at the + recollection of his adventure of to-day. It almost seemed to him that from + beneath his half-closed lids Blakeney had shot a quick inquiring glance + upon him. The quick flash seemed to light up the young man’s soul from + within, and to reveal it, naked, to his friend. + </p> + <p> + It was all over in a moment, and Armand thought that mayhap his conscience + had played him a trick: there was nothing apparent in him—of this he + was sure—that could possibly divulge his secret just yet. + </p> + <p> + “I am rather late, I fear,” he said. “I wandered about the streets in the + late afternoon and lost my way in the dark. I hope I have not kept you all + waiting.” + </p> + <p> + They all pulled chairs closely round the fire, except Blakeney, who + preferred to stand. He waited awhile until they were all comfortably + settled, and all ready to listen, then: + </p> + <p> + “It is about the Dauphin,” he said abruptly without further preamble. + </p> + <p> + They understood. All of them had guessed it, almost before the summons + came that had brought them to Paris two days ago. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes had + left his young wife because of that, and Armand had demanded it as a right + to join hands in this noble work. Blakeney had not left France for over + three months now. Backwards and forwards between Paris, or Nantes, or + Orleans to the coast, where his friends would meet him to receive those + unfortunates whom one man’s whole-hearted devotion had rescued from death; + backwards and forwards into the very hearts of those cities wherein an + army of sleuth-hounds were on his track, and the guillotine was stretching + out her arms to catch the foolhardy adventurer. + </p> + <p> + Now it was about the Dauphin. They all waited, breathless and eager, the + fire of a noble enthusiasm burning in their hearts. They waited in + silence, their eyes fixed on the leader, lest one single word from him + should fail to reach their ears. + </p> + <p> + The full magnetism of the man was apparent now. As he held these four men + at this moment, he could have held a crowd. The man of the world—the + fastidious dandy—had shed his mask; there stood the leader, calm, + serene in the very face of the most deadly danger that had ever + encompassed any man, looking that danger fully in the face, not striving + to belittle it or to exaggerate it, but weighing it in the balance with + what there was to accomplish: the rescue of a martyred, innocent child + from the hands of fiends who were destroying his very soul even more + completely than his body. + </p> + <p> + “Everything, I think, is prepared,” resumed Sir Percy after a slight + pause. “The Simons have been summarily dismissed; I learned that to-day. + They remove from the Temple on Sunday next, the nineteenth. Obviously that + is the one day most likely to help us in our operations. As far as I am + concerned, I cannot make any hard-and-fast plans. Chance at the last + moment will have to dictate. But from every one of you I must have + co-operation, and it can only be by your following my directions + implicitly that we can even remotely hope to succeed.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed and recrossed the room once or twice before he spoke again, + pausing now and again in his walk in front of a large map of Paris and its + environs that hung upon the wall, his tall figure erect, his hands behind + his back, his eyes fixed before him as if he saw right through the walls + of this squalid room, and across the darkness that overhung the city, + through the grim bastions of the mighty building far away, where the + descendant of an hundred kings lived at the mercy of human fiends who + worked for his abasement. + </p> + <p> + The man’s face now was that of a seer and a visionary; the firm lines were + set and rigid as those of an image carved in stone—the statue of + heart-whole devotion, with the self-imposed task beckoning sternly to + follow, there where lurked danger and death. + </p> + <p> + “The way, I think, in which we could best succeed would be this,” he + resumed after a while, sitting now on the edge of the table and directly + facing his four friends. The light from the lamp which stood upon the + table behind him fell full upon those four glowing faces fixed eagerly + upon him, but he himself was in shadow, a massive silhouette broadly cut + out against the light-coloured map on the wall beyond. + </p> + <p> + “I remain here, of course, until Sunday,” he said, “and will closely watch + my opportunity, when I can with the greatest amount of safety enter the + Temple building and take possession of the child. I shall, of course + choose the moment when the Simons are actually on the move, with their + successors probably coming in at about the same time. God alone knows,” he + added earnestly, “how I shall contrive to get possession of the child; at + the moment I am just as much in the dark about that as you are.” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment, and suddenly his grave face seemed flooded with + sunshine, a kind of lazy merriment danced in his eyes, effacing all trace + of solemnity within them. + </p> + <p> + “La!” he said lightly, “on one point I am not at all in the dark, and that + is that His Majesty King Louis XVII will come out of that ugly house in my + company next Sunday, the nineteenth day of January in this year of grace + seventeen hundred and ninety-four; and this, too, do I know—that + those murderous blackguards shall not lay hands on me whilst that precious + burden is in my keeping. So I pray you, my good Armand, do not look so + glum,” he added with his pleasant, merry laugh; “you’ll need all your wits + about you to help us in our undertaking.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish me to do, Percy?” said the young man simply. + </p> + <p> + “In one moment I will tell you. I want you all to understand the situation + first. The child will be out of the Temple on Sunday, but at what hour I + know not. The later it will be the better would it suit my purpose, for I + cannot get him out of Paris before evening with any chance of safety. Here + we must risk nothing; the child is far better off as he is now than he + would be if he were dragged back after an abortive attempt at rescue. But + at this hour of the night, between nine and ten o’clock, I can arrange to + get him out of Paris by the Villette gate, and that is where I want you, + Ffoulkes, and you, Tony, to be, with some kind of covered cart, yourselves + in any disguise your ingenuity will suggest. Here are a few certificates + of safety; I have been making a collection of them for some time, as they + are always useful.” + </p> + <p> + He dived into the wide pocket of his coat and drew forth a number of + cards, greasy, much-fingered documents of the usual pattern which the + Committee of General Security delivered to the free citizens of the new + republic, and without which no one could enter or leave any town or + country commune without being detained as “suspect.” He glanced at them + and handed them over to Ffoulkes. + </p> + <p> + “Choose your own identity for the occasion, my good friend,” he said + lightly; “and you too, Tony. You may be stonemasons or coal-carriers, + chimney-sweeps or farm-labourers, I care not which so long as you look + sufficiently grimy and wretched to be unrecognisable, and so long as you + can procure a cart without arousing suspicions, and can wait for me + punctually at the appointed spot.” + </p> + <p> + Ffoulkes turned over the cards, and with a laugh handed them over to Lord + Tony. The two fastidious gentlemen discussed for awhile the respective + merits of a chimney-sweep’s uniform as against that of a coal-carrier. + </p> + <p> + “You can carry more grime if you are a sweep,” suggested Blakeney; “and if + the soot gets into your eyes it does not make them smart like coal does.” + </p> + <p> + “But soot adheres more closely,” argued Tony solemnly, “and I know that we + shan’t get a bath for at least a week afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly you won’t, you sybarite!” asserted Sir Percy with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “After a week soot might become permanent,” mused Sir Andrew, wondering + what, under the circumstance, my lady would say to him. + </p> + <p> + “If you are both so fastidious,” retorted Blakeney, shrugging his broad + shoulders, “I’ll turn one of you into a reddleman, and the other into a + dyer. Then one of you will be bright scarlet to the end of his days, as + the reddle never comes off the skin at all, and the other will have to + soak in turpentine before the dye will consent to move.... In either + case... oh, my dear Tony!... the smell....” + </p> + <p> + He laughed like a schoolboy in anticipation of a prank, and held his + scented handkerchief to his nose. My Lord Hastings chuckled audibly, and + Tony punched him for this unseemly display of mirth. + </p> + <p> + Armand watched the little scene in utter amazement. He had been in England + over a year, and yet he could not understand these Englishmen. Surely they + were the queerest, most inconsequent people in the world. Here were these + men, who were engaged at this very moment in an enterprise which for + cool-headed courage and foolhardy daring had probably no parallel in + history. They were literally taking their lives in their hands, in all + probability facing certain death; and yet they now sat chaffing and + fighting like a crowd of third-form schoolboys, talking utter, silly + nonsense, and making foolish jokes that would have shamed a Frenchman in + his teens. Vaguely he wondered what fat, pompous de Batz would think of + this discussion if he could overhear it. His contempt, no doubt, for the + Scarlet Pimpernel and his followers would be increased tenfold. + </p> + <p> + Then at last the question of the disguise was effectually dismissed. Sir + Andrew Ffoulkes and Lord Anthony Dewhurst had settled their differences of + opinion by solemnly agreeing to represent two over-grimy and overheated + coal-heavers. They chose two certificates of safety that were made out in + the names of Jean Lepetit and Achille Grospierre, labourers. + </p> + <p> + “Though you don’t look at all like an Achille, Tony,” was Blakeney’s + parting shot to his friend. + </p> + <p> + Then without any transition from this schoolboy nonsense to the serious + business of the moment, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes said abruptly: + </p> + <p> + “Tell us exactly, Blakeney, where you will want the cart to stand on + Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + Blakeney rose and turned to the map against the wall, Ffoulkes and Tony + following him. They stood close to his elbow whilst his slender, nervy + hand wandered along the shiny surface of the varnished paper. At last he + placed his finger on one spot. + </p> + <p> + “Here you see,” he said, “is the Villette gate. Just outside it a narrow + street on the right leads down in the direction of the canal. It is just + at the bottom of that narrow street at its junction with the tow-path + there that I want you two and the cart to be. It had better be a coal-car + by the way; they will be unloading coal close by there to-morrow,” he + added with one of his sudden irrepressible outbursts of merriment. “You + and Tony can exercise your muscles coal-heaving, and incidentally make + yourselves known in the neighbourhood as good if somewhat grimy patriots.” + </p> + <p> + “We had better take up our parts at once then,” said Tony. “I’ll take a + fond farewell of my clean shirt to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will not see one again for some time, my good Tony. After your + hard day’s work to-morrow you will have to sleep either inside your cart, + if you have already secured one, or under the arches of the canal bridge, + if you have not.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you have an equally pleasant prospect for Hastings,” was my Lord + Tony’s grim comment. + </p> + <p> + It was easy to see that he was as happy as a schoolboy about to start for + a holiday. Lord Tony was a true sportsman. Perhaps there was in him less + sentiment for the heroic work which he did under the guidance of his chief + than an inherent passion for dangerous adventures. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, on + the other hand, thought perhaps a little less of the adventure, but a + great deal of the martyred child in the Temple. He was just as buoyant, + just as keen as his friend, but the leaven of sentiment raised his + sporting instincts to perhaps a higher plane of self-devotion. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, to recapitulate,” he said, in turn following with his finger + the indicated route on the map. “Tony and I and the coal-cart will await + you on this spot, at the corner of the towpath on Sunday evening at nine + o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “And your signal, Blakeney?” asked Tony. + </p> + <p> + “The usual one,” replied Sir Percy, “the seamew’s cry thrice repeated at + brief intervals. But now,” he continued, turning to Armand and Hastings, + who had taken no part in the discussion hitherto, “I want your help a + little further afield.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so,” nodded Hastings. + </p> + <p> + “The coal-cart, with its usual miserable nag, will carry us a distance of + fifteen or sixteen kilometres, but no more. My purpose is to cut along the + north of the city, and to reach St. Germain, the nearest point where we + can secure good mounts. There is a farmer just outside the commune; his + name is Achard. He has excellent horses, which I have borrowed before now; + we shall want five, of course, and he has one powerful beast that will do + for me, as I shall have, in addition to my own weight, which is + considerable, to take the child with me on the pillion. Now you, Hastings + and Armand, will have to start early to-morrow morning, leave Paris by the + Neuilly gate, and from there make your way to St. Germain by any + conveyance you can contrive to obtain. At St. Germain you must at once + find Achard’s farm; disguised as labourers you will not arouse suspicion + by so doing. You will find the farmer quite amenable to money, and you + must secure the best horses you can get for our own use, and, if possible, + the powerful mount I spoke of just now. You are both excellent horse-men, + therefore I selected you amongst the others for this special errand, for + you two, with the five horses, will have to come and meet our coal-cart + some seventeen kilometres out of St. Germain, to where the first sign-post + indicates the road to Courbevoie. Some two hundred metres down this road + on the right there is a small spinney, which will afford splendid shelter + for yourselves and your horses. We hope to be there at about one o’clock + after midnight of Monday morning. Now, is all that quite clear, and are + you both satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite clear,” exclaimed Hastings placidly; “but I, for one, am not + at all satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it is all too easy. We get none of the danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Oho! I thought that you would bring that argument forward, you + incorrigible grumbler,” laughed Sir Percy good-humouredly. “Let me tell + you that if you start to-morrow from Paris in that spirit you will run + your head and Armand’s into a noose long before you reach the gate of + Neuilly. I cannot allow either of you to cover your faces with too much + grime; an honest farm labourer should not look over-dirty, and your + chances of being discovered and detained are, at the outset, far greater + than those which Ffoulkes and Tony will run—” + </p> + <p> + Armand had said nothing during this time. While Blakeney was unfolding his + plan for him and for Lord Hastings—a plan which practically was a + command—he had sat with his arms folded across his chest, his head + sunk upon his breast. When Blakeney had asked if they were satisfied, he + had taken no part in Hastings’ protest nor responded to his leader’s + good-humoured banter. + </p> + <p> + Though he did not look up even now, yet he felt that Percy’s eyes were + fixed upon him, and they seemed to scorch into his soul. He made a great + effort to appear eager like the others, and yet from the first a chill had + struck at his heart. He could not leave Paris before he had seen Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + He looked up suddenly, trying to seem unconcerned; he even looked his + chief fully in the face. + </p> + <p> + “When ought we to leave Paris?” he asked calmly. + </p> + <p> + “You MUST leave at daybreak,” replied Blakeney with a slight, almost + imperceptible emphasis on the word of command. “When the gates are first + opened, and the work-people go to and fro at their work, that is the + safest hour. And you must be at St. Germain as soon as may be, or the + farmer may not have a sufficiency of horses available at a moment’s + notice. I want you to be spokesman with Achard, so that Hastings’ British + accent should not betray you both. Also you might not get a conveyance for + St. Germain immediately. We must think of every eventuality, Armand. There + is so much at stake.” + </p> + <p> + Armand made no further comment just then. But the others looked + astonished. Armand had but asked a simple question, and Blakeney’s reply + seemed almost like a rebuke—so circumstantial too, and so + explanatory. He was so used to being obeyed at a word, so accustomed that + the merest wish, the slightest hint from him was understood by his band of + devoted followers, that the long explanation of his orders which he gave + to Armand struck them all with a strange sense of unpleasant surprise. + </p> + <p> + Hastings was the first to break the spell that seemed to have fallen over + the party. + </p> + <p> + “We leave at daybreak, of course,” he said, “as soon as the gates are + open. We can, I know, get one of the carriers to give us a lift as far as + St. Germain. There, how do we find Achard?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a well-known farmer,” replied Blakeney. “You have but to ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. Then we bespeak five horses for the next day, find lodgings in the + village that night, and make a fresh start back towards Paris in the + evening of Sunday. Is that right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. One of you will have two horses on the lead, the other one. Pack + some fodder on the empty saddles and start at about ten o’clock. Ride + straight along the main road, as if you were making back for Paris, until + you come to four cross-roads with a sign-post pointing to Courbevoie. Turn + down there and go along the road until you meet a close spinney of + fir-trees on your right. Make for the interior of that. It gives splendid + shelter, and you can dismount there and give the horses a feed. We’ll join + you one hour after midnight. The night will be dark, I hope, and the moon + anyhow will be on the wane.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I understand. Anyhow, it’s not difficult, and we’ll be as careful + as may be.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have to keep your heads clear, both of you,” concluded Blakeney. + </p> + <p> + He was looking at Armand as he said this; but the young man had not made a + movement during this brief colloquy between Hastings and the chief. He + still sat with arms folded, his head falling on his breast. + </p> + <p> + Silence had fallen on them all. They all sat round the fire buried in + thought. Through the open window there came from the quay beyond the hum + of life in the open-air camp; the tramp of the sentinels around it, the + words of command from the drill-sergeant, and through it all the moaning + of the wind and the beating of the sleet against the window-panes. + </p> + <p> + A whole world of wretchedness was expressed by those sounds! Blakeney gave + a quick, impatient sigh, and going to the window he pushed it further + open, and just then there came from afar the muffled roll of drums, and + from below the watchman’s cry that seemed such dire mockery: + </p> + <p> + “Sleep, citizens! Everything is safe and peaceful.” + </p> + <p> + “Sound advice,” said Blakeney lightly. “Shall we also go to sleep? What + say you all—eh?” + </p> + <p> + He had with that sudden rapidity characteristic of his every action, + already thrown off the serious air which he had worn a moment ago when + giving instructions to Hastings. His usual debonnair manner was on him + once again, his laziness, his careless insouciance. He was even at this + moment deeply engaged in flicking off a grain of dust from the immaculate + Mechlin ruff at his wrist. The heavy lids had fallen over the tell-tale + eyes as if weighted with fatigue, the mouth appeared ready for the laugh + which never was absent from it very long. + </p> + <p> + It was only Ffoulkes’s devoted eyes that were sharp enough to pierce the + mask of light-hearted gaiety which enveloped the soul of his leader at the + present moment. He saw—for the first time in all the years that he + had known Blakeney—a frown across the habitually smooth brow, and + though the lips were parted for a laugh, the lines round mouth and chin + were hard and set. + </p> + <p> + With that intuition born of whole-hearted friendship Sir Andrew guessed + what troubled Percy. He had caught the look which the latter had thrown on + Armand, and knew that some explanation would have to pass between the two + men before they parted to-night. Therefore he gave the signal for the + breaking up of the meeting. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing more to say, is there, Blakeney?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, my good fellow, nothing,” replied Sir Percy. “I do not know how you + all feel, but I am demmed fatigued.” + </p> + <p> + “What about the rags for to-morrow?” queried Hastings. + </p> + <p> + “You know where to find them. In the room below. Ffoulkes has the key. + Wigs and all are there. But don’t use false hair if you can help it—it + is apt to shift in a scrimmage.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke jerkily, more curtly than was his wont. Hastings and Tony thought + that he was tired. They rose to say good night. Then the three men went + away together, Armand remaining behind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. WHAT LOVE IS + </h2> + <p> + “Well, now, Armand, what is it?” asked Blakeney, the moment the footsteps + of his friends had died away down the stone stairs, and their voices had + ceased to echo in the distance. + </p> + <p> + “You guessed, then, that there was... something?” said the younger man, + after a slight hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + Armand rose, pushing the chair away from him with an impatient nervy + gesture. Burying his hands in the pockets of his breeches, he began + striding up and down the room, a dark, troubled expression in his face, a + deep frown between his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney had once more taken up his favourite position, sitting on the + corner of the table, his broad shoulders interposed between the lamp and + the rest of the room. He was apparently taking no notice of Armand, but + only intent on the delicate operation of polishing his nails. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the young man paused in his restless walk and stood in front of + his friend—an earnest, solemn, determined figure. + </p> + <p> + “Blakeney,” he said, “I cannot leave Paris to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Percy made no reply. He was contemplating the polish which he had just + succeeded in producing on his thumbnail. + </p> + <p> + “I must stay here for a while longer,” continued Armand firmly. “I may not + be able to return to England for some weeks. You have the three others + here to help you in your enterprise outside Paris. I am entirely at your + service within the compass of its walls.” + </p> + <p> + Still no comment from Blakeney, not a look from beneath the fallen lids. + Armand continued, with a slight tone of impatience apparent in his voice: + </p> + <p> + “You must want some one to help you here on Sunday. I am entirely at your + service... here or anywhere in Paris... but I cannot leave this city... at + any rate, not just yet....” + </p> + <p> + Blakeney was apparently satisfied at last with the result of his polishing + operations. He rose, gave a slight yawn, and turned toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, my dear fellow,” he said pleasantly; “it is time we were all + abed. I am so demmed fatigued.” + </p> + <p> + “Percy!” exclaimed the young man hotly. + </p> + <p> + “Eh? What is it?” queried the other lazily. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to leave me like this—without a word?” + </p> + <p> + “I have said a great many words, my good fellow. I have said ‘good night,’ + and remarked that I was demmed fatigued.” + </p> + <p> + He was standing beside the door which led to his bedroom, and now he + pushed it open with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Percy, you cannot go and leave me like this!” reiterated Armand with + rapidly growing irritation. + </p> + <p> + “Like what, my dear fellow?” queried Sir Percy with good-humoured + impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Without a word—without a sign. What have I done that you should + treat me like a child, unworthy even of attention?” + </p> + <p> + Blakeney had turned back and was now facing him, towering above the slight + figure of the younger man. His face had lost none of its gracious air, and + beneath their heavy lids his eyes looked down not unkindly on his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Would you have preferred it, Armand,” he said quietly, “if I had said the + word that your ears have heard even though my lips have not uttered it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” murmured Armand defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “What sign would you have had me make?” continued Sir Percy, his pleasant + voice falling calm and mellow on the younger man’s supersensitive + consciousness: “That of branding you, Marguerite’s brother, as a liar and + a cheat?” + </p> + <p> + “Blakeney!” retorted the other, as with flaming cheeks and wrathful eyes + he took a menacing step toward his friend; “had any man but you dared to + speak such words to me—” + </p> + <p> + “I pray to God, Armand, that no man but I has the right to speak them.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no right.” + </p> + <p> + “Every right, my friend. Do I not hold your oath?... Are you not prepared + to break it?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not break my oath to you. I’ll serve and help you in every way you + can command... my life I’ll give to the cause... give me the most + dangerous—the most difficult task to perform.... I’ll do it—I’ll + do it gladly.” + </p> + <p> + “I have given you an over-difficult and dangerous task.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! To leave Paris in order to engage horses, while you and the others + do all the work. That is neither difficult nor dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be difficult for you, Armand, because your head is not + sufficiently cool to foresee serious eventualities and to prepare against + them. It is dangerous, because you are a man in love, and a man in love is + apt to run his head—and that of his friends—blindly into a + noose.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you that I was in love?” + </p> + <p> + “You yourself, my good fellow. Had you not told me so at the outset,” he + continued, still speaking very quietly and deliberately and never raising + his voice, “I would even now be standing over you, dog-whip in hand, to + thrash you as a defaulting coward and a perjurer .... Bah!” he added with + a return to his habitual bonhomie, “I would no doubt even have lost my + temper with you. Which would have been purposeless and excessively bad + form. Eh?” + </p> + <p> + A violent retort had sprung to Armand’s lips. But fortunately at that very + moment his eyes, glowing with anger, caught those of Blakeney fixed with + lazy good-nature upon his. Something of that irresistible dignity which + pervaded the whole personality of the man checked Armand’s hotheaded words + on his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot leave Paris to-morrow,” he reiterated more calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Because you have arranged to see her again?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she saved my life to-day, and is herself in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “She is in no danger,” said Blakeney simply, “since she saved the life of + my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Percy!” + </p> + <p> + The cry was wrung from Armand St. Just’s very soul. Despite the tumult of + passion which was raging in his heart, he was conscious again of the + magnetic power which bound so many to this man’s service. The words he had + said—simple though they were—had sent a thrill through + Armand’s veins. He felt himself disarmed. His resistance fell before the + subtle strength of an unbendable will; nothing remained in his heart but + an overwhelming sense of shame and of impotence. + </p> + <p> + He sank into a chair and rested his elbows on the table, burying his face + in his hands. Blakeney went up to him and placed a kindly hand upon his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “The difficult task, Armand,” he said gently. + </p> + <p> + “Percy, cannot you release me? She saved my life. I have not thanked her + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be time for thanks later, Armand. Just now over yonder the son + of kings is being done to death by savage brutes.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not hinder you if I stayed.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows you have hindered us enough already.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “You say she saved your life... then you were in danger... Heron and his + spies have been on your track; your track leads to mine, and I have sworn + to save the Dauphin from the hands of thieves.... A man in love, Armand, + is a deadly danger among us.... Therefore at daybreak you must leave Paris + with Hastings on your difficult and dangerous task.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I refuse?” retorted Armand. + </p> + <p> + “My good fellow,” said Blakeney earnestly, “in that admirable lexicon + which the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel has compiled for itself there is + no such word as refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “But if I do refuse?” persisted the other. + </p> + <p> + “You would be offering a tainted name and tarnished honour to the woman + you pretend to love.” + </p> + <p> + “And you insist upon my obedience?” + </p> + <p> + “By the oath which I hold from you.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is cruel—inhuman!” + </p> + <p> + “Honour, my good Armand, is often cruel and seldom human. He is a godlike + taskmaster, and we who call ourselves men are all of us his slaves.” + </p> + <p> + “The tyranny comes from you alone. You could release me an you would.” + </p> + <p> + “And to gratify the selfish desire of immature passion, you would wish to + see me jeopardise the life of those who place infinite trust in me.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows how you have gained their allegiance, Blakeney. To me now you + are selfish and callous.” + </p> + <p> + “There is the difficult task you craved for, Armand,” was all the answer + that Blakeney made to the taunt—“to obey a leader whom you no longer + trust.” + </p> + <p> + But this Armand could not brook. He had spoken hotly, impetuously, + smarting under the discipline which thwarted his desire, but his heart was + loyal to the chief whom he had reverenced for so long. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Percy,” he said humbly; “I am distracted. I don’t think I + quite realised what I was saying. I trust you, of course ... implicitly... + and you need not even fear... I shall not break my oath, though your + orders now seem to me needlessly callous and selfish.... I will obey... + you need not be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not afraid of that, my good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, you do not understand... you cannot. To you, your honour, the + task which you have set yourself, has been your only fetish.... Love in + its true sense does not exist for you.... I see it now... you do not know + what it is to love.” + </p> + <p> + Blakeney made no reply for the moment. He stood in the centre of the room, + with the yellow light of the lamp falling full now upon his tall powerful + frame, immaculately dressed in perfectly-tailored clothes, upon his long, + slender hands half hidden by filmy lace, and upon his face, across which + at this moment a heavy strand of curly hair threw a curious shadow. At + Armand’s words his lips had imperceptibly tightened, his eyes had narrowed + as if they tried to see something that was beyond the range of their + focus. + </p> + <p> + Across the smooth brow the strange shadow made by the hair seemed to find + a reflex from within. Perhaps the reckless adventurer, the careless + gambler with life and liberty, saw through the walls of this squalid room, + across the wide, ice-bound river, and beyond even the gloomy pile of + buildings opposite, a cool, shady garden at Richmond, a velvety lawn + sweeping down to the river’s edge, a bower of clematis and roses, with a + carved stone seat half covered with moss. There sat an exquisitely + beautiful woman with great sad eyes fixed on the far-distant horizon. The + setting sun was throwing a halo of gold all round her hair, her white + hands were clasped idly on her lap. + </p> + <p> + She gazed out beyond the river, beyond the sunset, toward an unseen bourne + of peace and happiness, and her lovely face had in it a look of utter + hopelessness and of sublime self-abnegation. The air was still. It was + late autumn, and all around her the russet leaves of beech and chestnut + fell with a melancholy hush-sh-sh about her feet. + </p> + <p> + She was alone, and from time to time heavy tears gathered in her eyes and + rolled slowly down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a sigh escaped the man’s tightly-pressed lips. With a strange + gesture, wholly unusual to him, he passed his hand right across his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mayhap you are right, Armand,” he said quietly; “mayhap I do not know + what it is to love.” + </p> + <p> + Armand turned to go. There was nothing more to be said. He knew Percy well + enough by now to realise the finality of his pronouncements. His heart + felt sore, but he was too proud to show his hurt again to a man who did + not understand. All thoughts of disobedience he had put resolutely aside; + he had never meant to break his oath. All that he had hoped to do was to + persuade Percy to release him from it for awhile. + </p> + <p> + That by leaving Paris he risked to lose Jeanne he was quite convinced, but + it is nevertheless a true fact that in spite of this he did not withdraw + his love and trust from his chief. He was under the influence of that same + magnetism which enchained all his comrades to the will of this man; and + though his enthusiasm for the great cause had somewhat waned, his + allegiance to its leader was no longer tottering. + </p> + <p> + But he would not trust himself to speak again on the subject. + </p> + <p> + “I will find the others downstairs,” was all he said, “and will arrange + with Hastings for to-morrow. Good night, Percy.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, my dear fellow. By the way, you have not told me yet who she + is.” + </p> + <p> + “Her name is Jeanne Lange,” said St. Just half reluctantly. He had not + meant to divulge his secret quite so fully as yet. + </p> + <p> + “The young actress at the Theatre National?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Do you know her?” + </p> + <p> + “Only by name.” + </p> + <p> + “She is beautiful, Percy, and she is an angel.... Think of my sister + Marguerite... she, too, was an actress.... Good night, Percy.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + The two men grasped one another by the hand. Armand’s eyes proffered a + last desperate appeal. But Blakeney’s eyes were impassive and unrelenting, + and Armand with a quick sigh finally took his leave. + </p> + <p> + For a long while after he had gone Blakeney stood silent and motionless in + the middle of the room. Armand’s last words lingered in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “Think of Marguerite!” + </p> + <p> + The walls had fallen away from around him—the window, the river + below, the Temple prison had all faded away, merged in the chaos of his + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Now he was no longer in Paris; he heard nothing of the horrors that even + at this hour of the night were raging around him; he did not hear the call + of murdered victims, of innocent women and children crying for help; he + did not see the descendant of St. Louis, with a red cap on his baby head, + stamping on the fleur-de-lys, and heaping insults on the memory of his + mother. All that had faded into nothingness. + </p> + <p> + He was in the garden at Richmond, and Marguerite was sitting on the stone + seat, with branches of the rambler roses twining themselves in her hair. + </p> + <p> + He was sitting on the ground at her feet, his head pillowed in her lap, + lazily dreaming whilst at his feet the river wound its graceful curves + beneath overhanging willows and tall stately elms. + </p> + <p> + A swan came sailing majestically down the stream, and Marguerite, with + idle, delicate hands, threw some crumbs of bread into the water. Then she + laughed, for she was quite happy, and anon she stooped, and he felt the + fragrance of her lips as she bent over him and savoured the perfect + sweetness of her caress. She was happy because her husband was by her + side. He had done with adventures, with risking his life for others’ sake. + He was living only for her. + </p> + <p> + The man, the dreamer, the idealist that lurked behind the adventurous + soul, lived an exquisite dream as he gazed upon that vision. He closed his + eyes so that it might last all the longer, so that through the open window + opposite he should not see the great gloomy walls of the labyrinthine + building packed to overflowing with innocent men, women, and children + waiting patiently and with a smile on their lips for a cruel and unmerited + death; so that he should not see even through the vista of houses and of + streets that grim Temple prison far away, and the light in one of the + tower windows, which illumined the final martyrdom of a boy-king. + </p> + <p> + Thus he stood for fully five minutes, with eyes deliberately closed and + lips tightly set. Then the neighbouring tower-clock of St. Germain + l’Auxerrois slowly tolled the hour of midnight. Blakeney woke from his + dream. The walls of his lodging were once more around him, and through the + window the ruddy light of some torch in the street below fought with that + of the lamp. + </p> + <p> + He went deliberately up to the window and looked out into the night. On + the quay, a little to the left, the outdoor camp was just breaking up for + the night. The people of France in arms against tyranny were allowed to + put away their work for the day and to go to their miserable homes to + gather rest in sleep for the morrow. A band of soldiers, rough and brutal + in their movements, were hustling the women and children. The little ones, + weary, sleepy, and cold, seemed too dazed to move. One woman had two + little children clinging to her skirts; a soldier suddenly seized one of + them by the shoulders and pushed it along roughly in front of him to get + it out of the way. The woman struck at the soldier in a stupid, senseless, + useless way, and then gathered her trembling chicks under her wing, trying + to look defiant. + </p> + <p> + In a moment she was surrounded. Two soldiers seized her, and two more + dragged the children away from her. She screamed and the children cried, + the soldiers swore and struck out right and left with their bayonets. + There was a general melee, calls of agony rent the air, rough oaths + drowned the shouts of the helpless. Some women, panic-stricken, started to + run. + </p> + <p> + And Blakeney from his window looked down upon the scene. He no longer saw + the garden at Richmond, the lazily-flowing river, the bowers of roses; + even the sweet face of Marguerite, sad and lonely, appeared dim and far + away. + </p> + <p> + He looked across the ice-bound river, past the quay where rough soldiers + were brutalising a number of wretched defenceless women, to that grim + Chatelet prison, where tiny lights shining here and there behind barred + windows told the sad tale of weary vigils, of watches through the night, + when dawn would bring martyrdom and death. + </p> + <p> + And it was not Marguerite’s blue eyes that beckoned to him now, it was not + her lips that called, but the wan face of a child with matted curls + hanging above a greasy forehead, and small hands covered in grime that had + once been fondled by a Queen. + </p> + <p> + The adventurer in him had chased away the dream. + </p> + <p> + “While there is life in me I’ll cheat those brutes of prey,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THEN EVERYTHING WAS DARK + </h2> + <p> + The night that Armand St. Just spent tossing about on a hard, narrow bed + was the most miserable, agonising one he had ever passed in his life. A + kind of fever ran through him, causing his teeth to chatter and the veins + in his temples to throb until he thought that they must burst. + </p> + <p> + Physically he certainly was ill; the mental strain caused by two great + conflicting passions had attacked his bodily strength, and whilst his + brain and heart fought their battles together, his aching limbs found no + repose. + </p> + <p> + His love for Jeanne! His loyalty to the man to whom he owed his life, and + to whom he had sworn allegiance and implicit obedience! + </p> + <p> + These superacute feelings seemed to be tearing at his very heartstrings, + until he felt that he could no longer lie on the miserable palliasse which + in these squalid lodgings did duty for a bed. + </p> + <p> + He rose long before daybreak, with tired back and burning eyes, but + unconscious of any pain save that which tore at his heart. + </p> + <p> + The weather, fortunately, was not quite so cold—a sudden and very + rapid thaw had set in; and when after a hurried toilet Armand, carrying a + bundle under his arm, emerged into the street, the mild south wind struck + pleasantly on his face. + </p> + <p> + It was then pitch dark. The street lamps had been extinguished long ago, + and the feeble January sun had not yet tinged with pale colour the heavy + clouds that hung over the sky. + </p> + <p> + The streets of the great city were absolutely deserted at this hour. It + lay, peaceful and still, wrapped in its mantle of gloom. A thin rain was + falling, and Armand’s feet, as he began to descend the heights of + Montmartre, sank ankle deep in the mud of the road. There was but scanty + attempt at pavements in this outlying quarter of the town, and Armand had + much ado to keep his footing on the uneven and intermittent stones that + did duty for roads in these parts. But this discomfort did not trouble him + just now. One thought—and one alone—was clear in his mind: he + must see Jeanne before he left Paris. + </p> + <p> + He did not pause to think how he could accomplish that at this hour of the + day. All he knew was that he must obey his chief, and that he must see + Jeanne. He would see her, explain to her that he must leave Paris + immediately, and beg her to make her preparations quickly, so that she + might meet him as soon as maybe, and accompany him to England straight + away. + </p> + <p> + He did not feel that he was being disloyal by trying to see Jeanne. He had + thrown prudence to the winds, not realising that his imprudence would and + did jeopardise, not only the success of his chief’s plans, but also his + life and that of his friends. He had before parting from Hastings last + night arranged to meet him in the neighbourhood of the Neuilly Gate at + seven o’clock; it was only six now. There was plenty of time for him to + rouse the concierge at the house of the Square du Roule, to see Jeanne for + a few moments, to slip into Madame Belhomme’s kitchen, and there into the + labourer’s clothes which he was carrying in the bundle under his arm, and + to be at the gate at the appointed hour. + </p> + <p> + The Square du Roule is shut off from the Rue St. Honore, on which it + abuts, by tall iron gates, which a few years ago, when the secluded little + square was a fashionable quarter of the city, used to be kept closed at + night, with a watchman in uniform to intercept midnight prowlers. Now + these gates had been rudely torn away from their sockets, the iron had + been sold for the benefit of the ever-empty Treasury, and no one cared if + the homeless, the starving, or the evil-doer found shelter under the + porticoes of the houses, from whence wealthy or aristocratic owners had + long since thought it wise to flee. + </p> + <p> + No one challenged Armand when he turned into the square, and though the + darkness was intense, he made his way fairly straight for the house where + lodged Mademoiselle Lange. + </p> + <p> + So far he had been wonderfully lucky. The foolhardiness with which he had + exposed his life and that of his friends by wandering about the streets of + Paris at this hour without any attempt at disguise, though carrying one + under his arm, had not met with the untoward fate which it undoubtedly + deserved. The darkness of the night and the thin sheet of rain as it fell + had effectually wrapped his progress through the lonely streets in their + beneficent mantle of gloom; the soft mud below had drowned the echo of his + footsteps. If spies were on his track, as Jeanne had feared and Blakeney + prophesied, he had certainly succeeded in evading them. + </p> + <p> + He pulled the concierge’s bell, and the latch of the outer door, + manipulated from within, duly sprang open in response. He entered, and + from the lodge the concierge’s voice emerging, muffled from the depths of + pillows and blankets, challenged him with an oath directed at the + unseemliness of the hour. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Lange,” said Armand boldly, as without hesitation he walked + quickly past the lodge making straight for the stairs. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him that from the concierge’s room loud vituperations + followed him, but he took no notice of these; only a short flight of + stairs and one more door separated him from Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + He did not pause to think that she would in all probability be still in + bed, that he might have some difficulty in rousing Madame Belhomme, that + the latter might not even care to admit him; nor did he reflect on the + glaring imprudence of his actions. He wanted to see Jeanne, and she was + the other side of that wall. + </p> + <p> + “He, citizen! Hola! Here! Curse you! Where are you?” came in a gruff voice + to him from below. + </p> + <p> + He had mounted the stairs, and was now on the landing just outside + Jeanne’s door. He pulled the bell-handle, and heard the pleasing echo of + the bell that would presently wake Madame Belhomme and bring her to the + door. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen! Hola! Curse you for an aristo! What are you doing there?” + </p> + <p> + The concierge, a stout, elderly man, wrapped in a blanket, his feet thrust + in slippers, and carrying a guttering tallow candle, had appeared upon the + landing. + </p> + <p> + He held the candle up so that its feeble flickering rays fell on Armand’s + pale face, and on the damp cloak which fell away from his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing there?” reiterated the concierge with another oath + from his prolific vocabulary. + </p> + <p> + “As you see, citizen,” replied Armand politely, “I am ringing Mademoiselle + Lange’s front door bell.” + </p> + <p> + “At this hour of the morning?” queried the man with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “I desire to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have come to the wrong house, citizen,” said the concierge with + a rude laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The wrong house? What do you mean?” stammered Armand, a little + bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “She is not here—quoi!” retorted the concierge, who now turned + deliberately on his heel. “Go and look for her, citizen; it’ll take you + some time to find her.” + </p> + <p> + He shuffled off in the direction of the stairs. Armand was vainly trying + to shake himself free from a sudden, an awful sense of horror. + </p> + <p> + He gave another vigorous pull at the bell, then with one bound he overtook + the concierge, who was preparing to descend the stairs, and gripped him + peremptorily by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mademoiselle Lange?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + His voice sounded quite strange in his own ear; his throat felt parched, + and he had to moisten his lips with his tongue before he was able to + speak. + </p> + <p> + “Arrested,” replied the man. + </p> + <p> + “Arrested? When? Where? How?” + </p> + <p> + “When—late yesterday evening. Where?—here in her room. How?—by + the agents of the Committee of General Security. She and the old woman! + Basta! that’s all I know. Now I am going back to bed, and you clear out of + the house. You are making a disturbance, and I shall be reprimanded. I ask + you, is this a decent time for rousing honest patriots out of their + morning sleep?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his arm free from Armand’s grasp and once more began to descend. + </p> + <p> + Armand stood on the landing like a man who has been stunned by a blow on + the head. His limbs were paralysed. He could not for the moment have moved + or spoken if his life had depended on a sign or on a word. His brain was + reeling, and he had to steady himself with his hand against the wall or he + would have fallen headlong on the floor. He had lived in a whirl of + excitement for the past twenty-four hours; his nerves during that time had + been kept at straining point. Passion, joy, happiness, deadly danger, and + moral fights had worn his mental endurance threadbare; want of proper food + and a sleepless night had almost thrown his physical balance out of gear. + This blow came at a moment when he was least able to bear it. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne had been arrested! Jeanne was in the hands of those brutes, whom + he, Armand, had regarded yesterday with insurmountable loathing! Jeanne + was in prison—she was arrested—she would be tried, condemned, + and all because of him! + </p> + <p> + The thought was so awful that it brought him to the verge of mania. He + watched as in a dream the form of the concierge shuffling his way down the + oak staircase; his portly figure assumed Gargantuan proportions, the + candle which he carried looked like the dancing flames of hell, through + which grinning faces, hideous and contortioned, mocked at him and leered. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly everything was dark. The light had disappeared round the + bend of the stairs; grinning faces and ghoulish visions vanished; he only + saw Jeanne, his dainty, exquisite Jeanne, in the hands of those brutes. He + saw her as he had seen a year and a half ago the victims of those + bloodthirsty wretches being dragged before a tribunal that was but a + mockery of justice; he heard the quick interrogatory, and the responses + from her perfect lips, that exquisite voice of hers veiled by tones of + anguish. He heard the condemnation, the rattle of the tumbril on the + ill-paved streets—saw her there with hands clasped together, her + eyes— + </p> + <p> + Great God! he was really going mad! + </p> + <p> + Like a wild creature driven forth he started to run down the stairs, past + the concierge, who was just entering his lodge, and who now turned in + surly anger to watch this man running away like a lunatic or a fool, out + by the front door and into the street. In a moment he was out of the + little square; then like a hunted hare he still ran down the Rue St. + Honore, along its narrow, interminable length. His hat had fallen from his + head, his hair was wild all round his face, the rain weighted the cloak + upon his shoulders; but still he ran. + </p> + <p> + His feet made no noise on the muddy pavement. He ran on and on, his elbows + pressed to his sides, panting, quivering, intent but upon one thing—the + goal which he had set himself to reach. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne was arrested. He did not know where to look for her, but he did + know whither he wanted to go now as swiftly as his legs would carry him. + </p> + <p> + It was still dark, but Armand St. Just was a born Parisian, and he knew + every inch of this quarter, where he and Marguerite had years ago lived. + Down the Rue St. Honore, he had reached the bottom of the interminably + long street at last. He had kept just a sufficiency of reason—or was + it merely blind instinct?—to avoid the places where the night + patrols of the National Guard might be on the watch. He avoided the Place + du Carrousel, also the quay, and struck sharply to his right until he + reached the facade of St. Germain l’Auxerrois. + </p> + <p> + Another effort; round the corner, and there was the house at last. He was + like the hunted creature now that has run to earth. Up the two flights of + stone stairs, and then the pull at the bell; a moment of tense anxiety, + whilst panting, gasping, almost choked with the sustained effort and the + strain of the past half-hour, he leaned against the wall, striving not to + fall. + </p> + <p> + Then the well-known firm step across the rooms beyond, the open door, the + hand upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + After that he remembered nothing more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE CHIEF + </h2> + <p> + He had not actually fainted, but the exertion of that long run had + rendered him partially unconscious. He knew now that he was safe, that he + was sitting in Blakeney’s room, and that something hot and vivifying was + being poured down his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Percy, they have arrested her!” he said, panting, as soon as speech + returned to his paralysed tongue. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Don’t talk now. Wait till you are better.” + </p> + <p> + With infinite care and gentleness Blakeney arranged some cushions under + Armand’s head, turned the sofa towards the fire, and anon brought his + friend a cup of hot coffee, which the latter drank with avidity. + </p> + <p> + He was really too exhausted to speak. He had contrived to tell Blakeney, + and now Blakeney knew, so everything would be all right. The inevitable + reaction was asserting itself; the muscles had relaxed, the nerves were + numbed, and Armand lay back on the sofa with eyes half closed, unable to + move, yet feeling his strength gradually returning to him, his vitality + asserting itself, all the feverish excitement of the past twenty-four + hours yielding at last to a calmer mood. + </p> + <p> + Through his half-closed eyes he could see his brother-in-law moving about + the room. Blakeney was fully dressed. In a sleepy kind of way Armand + wondered if he had been to bed at all; certainly his clothes set on him + with their usual well-tailored perfection, and there was no suggestion in + his brisk step and alert movements that he had passed a sleepless night. + </p> + <p> + Now he was standing by the open window. Armand, from where he lay, could + see his broad shoulders sharply outlined against the grey background of + the hazy winter dawn. A wan light was just creeping up from the east over + the city; the noises of the streets below came distinctly to Armand’s ear. + </p> + <p> + He roused himself with one vigorous effort from his lethargy, feeling + quite ashamed of himself and of this breakdown of his nervous system. He + looked with frank admiration on Sir Percy, who stood immovable and silent + by the window—a perfect tower of strength, serene and impassive, yet + kindly in distress. + </p> + <p> + “Percy,” said the young man, “I ran all the way from the top of the Rue + St. Honore. I was only breathless. I am quite all right. May I tell you + all about it?” + </p> + <p> + Without a word Blakeney closed the window and came across to the sofa; he + sat down beside Armand, and to all outward appearances he was nothing now + but a kind and sympathetic listener to a friend’s tale of woe. Not a line + in his face or a look in his eyes betrayed the thoughts of the leader who + had been thwarted at the outset of a dangerous enterprise, or of the man, + accustomed to command, who had been so flagrantly disobeyed. + </p> + <p> + Armand, unconscious of all save of Jeanne and of her immediate need, put + an eager hand on Percy’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Heron and his hell-hounds went back to her lodgings last night,” he said, + speaking as if he were still a little out of breath. “They hoped to get + me, no doubt; not finding me there, they took her. Oh, my God!” + </p> + <p> + It was the first time that he had put the whole terrible circumstance into + words, and it seemed to gain in reality by the recounting. The agony of + mind which he endured was almost unbearable; he hid his face in his hands + lest Percy should see how terribly he suffered. + </p> + <p> + “I knew that,” said Blakeney quietly. Armand looked up in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “How? When did you know it?” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Last night when you left me. I went down to the Square du Roule. I + arrived there just too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Percy!” exclaimed Armand, whose pale face had suddenly flushed scarlet, + “you did that?—last night you—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” interposed the other calmly; “had I not promised you to keep + watch over her? When I heard the news it was already too late to make + further inquiries, but when you arrived just now I was on the point of + starting out, in order to find out in what prison Mademoiselle Lange is + being detained. I shall have to go soon, Armand, before the guard is + changed at the Temple and the Tuileries. This is the safest time, and God + knows we are all of us sufficiently compromised already.” + </p> + <p> + The flush of shame deepened in St. Just’s cheek. There had not been a hint + of reproach in the voice of his chief, and the eyes which regarded him now + from beneath the half-closed lids showed nothing but lazy bonhomie. + </p> + <p> + In a moment now Armand realised all the harm which his recklessness had + done, was still doing to the work of the League. Every one of his actions + since his arrival in Paris two days ago had jeopardised a plan or + endangered a life: his friendship with de Batz, his connection with + Mademoiselle Lange, his visit to her yesterday afternoon, the repetition + of it this morning, culminating in that wild run through the streets of + Paris, when at any moment a spy lurking round a corner might either have + barred his way, or, worse still, have followed him to Blakeney’s door. + Armand, without a thought of any one save of his beloved, might easily + this morning have brought an agent of the Committee of General Security + face to face with his chief. + </p> + <p> + “Percy,” he murmured, “can you ever forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw, man!” retorted Blakeney lightly; “there is naught to forgive, only + a great deal that should no longer be forgotten; your duty to the others, + for instance, your obedience, and your honour.” + </p> + <p> + “I was mad, Percy. Oh! if you only could understand what she means to me!” + </p> + <p> + Blakeney laughed, his own light-hearted careless laugh, which so often + before now had helped to hide what he really felt from the eyes of the + indifferent, and even from those of his friends. + </p> + <p> + “No! no!” he said lightly, “we agreed last night, did we not? that in + matters of sentiment I am a cold-blooded fish. But will you at any rate + concede that I am a man of my word? Did I not pledge it last night that + Mademoiselle Lange would be safe? I foresaw her arrest the moment I heard + your story. I hoped that I might reach her before that brute Heron’s + return; unfortunately he forestalled me by less than half an hour. + Mademoiselle Lange has been arrested, Armand; but why should you not trust + me on that account? Have we not succeeded, I and the others, in worse + cases than this one? They mean no harm to Jeanne Lange,” he added + emphatically; “I give you my word on that. They only want her as a decoy. + It is you they want. You through her, and me through you. I pledge you my + honour that she will be safe. You must try and trust me, Armand. It is + much to ask, I know, for you will have to trust me with what is most + precious in the world to you; and you will have to obey me blindly, or I + shall not be able to keep my word.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Firstly, you must be outside Paris within the hour. Every minute that you + spend inside the city now is full of danger—oh, no! not for you,” + added Blakeney, checking with a good-humoured gesture Armand’s words of + protestation, “danger for the others—and for our scheme tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I go to St. Germain, Percy, knowing that she—” + </p> + <p> + “Is under my charge?” interposed the other calmly. “That should not be so + very difficult. Come,” he added, placing a kindly hand on the other’s + shoulder, “you shall not find me such an inhuman monster after all. But I + must think of the others, you see, and of the child whom I have sworn to + save. But I won’t send you as far as St. Germain. Go down to the room + below and find a good bundle of rough clothes that will serve you as a + disguise, for I imagine that you have lost those which you had on the + landing or the stairs of the house in the Square du Roule. In a tin box + with the clothes downstairs you will find the packet of miscellaneous + certificates of safety. Take an appropriate one, and then start out + immediately for Villette. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” said Armand eagerly. “You want me to join Ffoulkes and Tony.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! You’ll find them probably unloading coal by the canal. Try and get + private speech with them as early as may be, and tell Tony to set out at + once for St. Germain, and to join Hastings there, instead of you, whilst + you take his place with Ffoulkes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand; but how will Tony reach St. Germain?” + </p> + <p> + “La, my good fellow,” said Blakeney gaily, “you may safely trust Tony to + go where I send him. Do you but do as I tell you, and leave him to look + after himself. And now,” he added, speaking more earnestly, “the sooner + you get out of Paris the better it will be for us all. As you see, I am + only sending you to La Villette, because it is not so far, but that I can + keep in personal touch with you. Remain close to the gates for an hour + after nightfall. I will contrive before they close to bring you news of + Mademoiselle Lange.” + </p> + <p> + Armand said no more. The sense of shame in him deepened with every word + spoken by his chief. He felt how untrustworthy he had been, how + undeserving of the selfless devotion which Percy was showing him even now. + The words of gratitude died on his lips; he knew that they would be + unwelcome. These Englishmen were so devoid of sentiment, he thought, and + his brother-in-law, with all his unselfish and heroic deeds, was, he felt, + absolutely callous in matters of the heart. + </p> + <p> + But Armand was a noble-minded man, and with the true sporting instinct in + him, despite the fact that he was a creature of nerves, highly strung and + imaginative. He could give ungrudging admiration to his chief, even whilst + giving himself up entirely to the sentiment for Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + He tried to imbue himself with the same spirit that actuated my Lord Tony + and the other members of the League. How gladly would he have chaffed and + made senseless schoolboy jokes like those which—in face of their + hazardous enterprise and the dangers which they all ran—had + horrified him so much last night. + </p> + <p> + But somehow he knew that jokes from him would not ring true. How could he + smile when his heart was brimming over with his love for Jeanne, and with + solicitude on her account? He felt that Percy was regarding him with a + kind of indulgent amusement; there was a look of suppressed merriment in + the depths of those lazy blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + So he braced up his nerves, trying his best to look cool and unconcerned, + but he could not altogether hide from his friend the burning anxiety which + was threatening to break his heart. + </p> + <p> + “I have given you my word, Armand,” said Blakeney in answer to the + unspoken prayer; “cannot you try and trust me—as the others do? Then + with sudden transition he pointed to the map behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Remember the gate of Villette, and the corner by the towpath. Join + Ffoulkes as soon as may be and send Tony on his way, and wait for news of + Mademoiselle Lange some time to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Percy!” said Armand involuntarily. “Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, my dear fellow. Slip on your disguise as quickly as you can, + and be out of the house in a quarter of an hour.” + </p> + <p> + He accompanied Armand through the ante-room, and finally closed the door + on him. Then he went back to his room and walked up to the window, which + he threw open to the humid morning air. Now that he was alone the look of + trouble on his face deepened to a dark, anxious frown, and as he looked + out across the river a sigh of bitter impatience and disappointment + escaped his lips. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE GATE OF LA VILLETTE + </h2> + <p> + And now the shades of evening had long since yielded to those of night. + The gate of La Villette, at the northeast corner of the city, was about to + close. Armand, dressed in the rough clothes of a labouring man, was + leaning against a low wall at the angle of the narrow street which abuts + on the canal at its further end; from this point of vantage he could + command a view of the gate and of the life and bustle around it. + </p> + <p> + He was dog-tired. After the emotions of the past twenty-four hours, a + day’s hard manual toil to which he was unaccustomed had caused him to ache + in every limb. As soon as he had arrived at the canal wharf in the early + morning he had obtained the kind of casual work that ruled about here, and + soon was told off to unload a cargo of coal which had arrived by barge + overnight. He had set-to with a will, half hoping to kill his anxiety by + dint of heavy bodily exertion. During the course of the morning he had + suddenly become aware of Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and of Lord Anthony Dewhurst + working not far away from him, and as fine a pair of coalheavers as any + shipper could desire. + </p> + <p> + It was not very difficult in the midst of the noise and activity that + reigned all about the wharf for the three men to exchange a few words + together, and Armand soon communicated the chief’s new instructions to my + Lord Tony, who effectually slipped away from his work some time during the + day. Armand did not even see him go, it had all been so neatly done. + </p> + <p> + Just before five o’clock in the afternoon the labourers were paid off. It + was then too dark to continue work. Armand would have liked to talk to Sir + Andrew, if only for a moment. He felt lonely and desperately anxious. He + had hoped to tire out his nerves as well as his body, but in this he had + not succeeded. As soon as he had given up his tools, his brain began to + work again more busily than ever. It followed Percy in his peregrinations + through the city, trying to discover where those brutes were keeping + Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + That task had suddenly loomed up before Armand’s mind with all its + terrible difficulties. How could Percy—a marked man if ever there + was one—go from prison to prison to inquire about Jeanne? The very + idea seemed preposterous. Armand ought never to have consented to such an + insensate plan. The more he thought of it, the more impossible did it seem + that Blakeney could find anything out. + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew Ffoulkes was nowhere to be seen. St. Just wandered about in the + dark, lonely streets of this outlying quarter vainly trying to find the + friend in whom he could confide, who, no doubt, would reassure him as to + Blakeney’s probable movements in Paris. Then as the hour approached for + the closing of the city gates Armand took up his stand at an angle of the + street from whence he could see both the gate on one side of him and the + thin line of the canal intersecting the street at its further end. + </p> + <p> + Unless Percy came within the next five minutes the gates would be closed + and the difficulties of crossing the barrier would be increased a + hundredfold. The market gardeners with their covered carts filed out of + the gate one by one; the labourers on foot were returning to their homes; + there was a group of stonemasons, a few road-makers, also a number of + beggars, ragged and filthy, who herded somewhere in the neighbourhood of + the canal. + </p> + <p> + In every form, under every disguise, Armand hoped to discover Percy. He + could not stand still for very long, but strode up and down the road that + skirts the fortifications at this point. + </p> + <p> + There were a good many idlers about at this hour; some men who had + finished their work, and meant to spend an hour or so in one of the + drinking shops that abounded in the neighbourhood of the wharf; others who + liked to gather a small knot of listeners around them, whilst they + discoursed on the politics of the day, or rather raged against the + Convention, which was all made up of traitors to the people’s welfare. + </p> + <p> + Armand, trying manfully to play his part, joined one of the groups that + stood gaping round a street orator. He shouted with the best of them, + waved his cap in the air, and applauded or hissed in unison with the + majority. But his eyes never wandered for long away from the gate whence + Percy must come now at any moment—now or not at all. + </p> + <p> + At what precise moment the awful doubt took birth in his mind the young + man could not afterwards have said. Perhaps it was when he heard the roll + of drums proclaiming the closing of the gates, and witnessed the changing + of the guard. + </p> + <p> + Percy had not come. He could not come now, and he (Armand) would have the + night to face without news of Jeanne. Something, of course, had detained + Percy; perhaps he had been unable to get definite information about + Jeanne; perhaps the information which he had obtained was too terrible to + communicate. + </p> + <p> + If only Sir Andrew Ffoulkes had been there, and Armand had had some one to + talk to, perhaps then he would have found sufficient strength of mind to + wait with outward patience, even though his nerves were on the rack. + </p> + <p> + Darkness closed in around him, and with the darkness came the full return + of the phantoms that had assailed him in the house of the Square du Roule + when first he had heard of Jeanne’s arrest. The open place facing the gate + had transformed itself into the Place de la Revolution, the tall rough + post that held a flickering oil lamp had become the gaunt arm of the + guillotine, the feeble light of the lamp was the knife that gleamed with + the reflection of a crimson light. + </p> + <p> + And Armand saw himself, as in a vision, one of a vast and noisy throng—they + were all pressing round him so that he could not move; they were + brandishing caps and tricolour flags, also pitchforks and scythes. He had + seen such a crowd four years ago rushing towards the Bastille. Now they + were all assembled here around him and around the guillotine. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a distant rattle caught his subconscious ear: the rattle of + wheels on rough cobble-stones. Immediately the crowd began to cheer and to + shout; some sang the “Ca ira!” and others screamed: + </p> + <p> + “Les aristos! a la lanterne! a mort! a mort! les aristos!” + </p> + <p> + He saw it all quite plainly, for the darkness had vanished, and the vision + was more vivid than even reality could have been. The rattle of wheels + grew louder, and presently the cart debouched on the open place. + </p> + <p> + Men and women sat huddled up in the cart; but in the midst of them a woman + stood, and her eyes were fixed upon Armand. She wore her pale-grey satin + gown, and a white kerchief was folded across her bosom. Her brown hair + fell in loose soft curls all round her head. She looked exactly like the + exquisite cameo which Marguerite used to wear. Her hands were tied with + cords behind her back, but between her fingers she held a small bunch of + violets. + </p> + <p> + Armand saw it all. It was, of course, a vision, and he knew that it was + one, but he believed that the vision was prophetic. No thought of the + chief whom he had sworn to trust and to obey came to chase away these + imaginings of his fevered fancy. He saw Jeanne, and only Jeanne, standing + on the tumbril and being led to the guillotine. Sir Andrew was not there, + and Percy had not come. Armand believed that a direct message had come to + him from heaven to save his beloved. + </p> + <p> + Therefore he forgot his promise—his oath; he forgot those very + things which the leader had entreated him to remember—his duty to + the others, his loyalty, his obedience. Jeanne had first claim on him. It + were the act of a coward to remain in safety whilst she was in such deadly + danger. + </p> + <p> + Now he blamed himself severely for having quitted Paris. Even Percy must + have thought him a coward for obeying quite so readily. Maybe the command + had been but a test of his courage, of the strength of his love for + Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + A hundred conjectures flashed through his brain; a hundred plans presented + themselves to his mind. It was not for Percy, who did not know her, to + save Jeanne or to guard her. That task was Armand’s, who worshipped her, + and who would gladly die beside her if he failed to rescue her from + threatened death. + </p> + <p> + Resolution was not slow in coming. A tower clock inside the city struck + the hour of six, and still no sign of Percy. + </p> + <p> + Armand, his certificate of safety in his hand, walked boldly up to the + gate. + </p> + <p> + The guard challenged him, but he presented the certificate. There was an + agonising moment when the card was taken from him, and he was detained in + the guard-room while it was being examined by the sergeant in command. + </p> + <p> + But the certificate was in good order, and Armand, covered in coal-dust, + with the perspiration streaming down his face, did certainly not look like + an aristocrat in disguise. It was never very difficult to enter the great + city; if one wished to put one’s head in the lion’s mouth, one was welcome + to do so; the difficulty came when the lion thought fit to close his jaws. + </p> + <p> + Armand, after five minutes of tense anxiety, was allowed to cross the + barrier, but his certificate of safety was detained. He would have to get + another from the Committee of General Security before he would be allowed + to leave Paris again. + </p> + <p> + The lion had thought fit to close his jaws. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE WEARY SEARCH + </h2> + <p> + Blakeney was not at his lodgings when Armand arrived there that evening, + nor did he return, whilst the young man haunted the precincts of St. + Germain l’Auxerrois and wandered along the quays hours and hours at a + stretch, until he nearly dropped under the portico of a house, and + realised that if he loitered longer he might lose consciousness + completely, and be unable on the morrow to be of service to Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + He dragged his weary footsteps back to his own lodgings on the heights of + Montmartre. He had not found Percy, he had no news of Jeanne; it seemed as + if hell itself could hold no worse tortures than this intolerable + suspense. + </p> + <p> + He threw himself down on the narrow palliasse and, tired nature asserting + herself, at last fell into a heavy, dreamless torpor, like the sleep of a + drunkard, deep but without the beneficent aid of rest. + </p> + <p> + It was broad daylight when he awoke. The pale light of a damp, wintry + morning filtered through the grimy panes of the window. Armand jumped out + of bed, aching of limb but resolute of mind. There was no doubt that Percy + had failed in discovering Jeanne’s whereabouts; but where a mere friend + had failed a lover was more likely to succeed. + </p> + <p> + The rough clothes which he had worn yesterday were the only ones he had. + They would, of course, serve his purpose better than his own, which he had + left at Blakeney’s lodgings yesterday. In half an hour he was dressed, + looking a fairly good imitation of a labourer out of work. + </p> + <p> + He went to a humble eating house of which he knew, and there, having + ordered some hot coffee with a hunk of bread, he set himself to think. + </p> + <p> + It was quite a usual thing these days for relatives and friends of + prisoners to go wandering about from prison to prison to find out where + the loved ones happened to be detained. The prisons were over full just + now; convents, monasteries, and public institutions had all been + requisitioned by the Government for the housing of the hundreds of + so-called traitors who had been arrested on the barest suspicion, or at + the mere denunciation of an evil-wisher. + </p> + <p> + There were the Abbaye and the Luxembourg, the erstwhile convents of the + Visitation and the Sacre-Coeur, the cloister of the Oratorians, the + Salpetriere, and the St. Lazare hospitals, and there was, of course, the + Temple, and, lastly, the Conciergerie, to which those prisoners were + brought whose trial would take place within the next few days, and whose + condemnation was practically assured. + </p> + <p> + Persons under arrest at some of the other prisons did sometimes come out + of them alive, but the Conciergerie was only the ante-chamber of the + guillotine. + </p> + <p> + Therefore Armand’s idea was to visit the Conciergerie first. The sooner he + could reassure himself that Jeanne was not in immediate danger the better + would he be able to endure the agony of that heart-breaking search, that + knocking at every door in the hope of finding his beloved. + </p> + <p> + If Jeanne was not in the Conciergerie, then there might be some hope that + she was only being temporarily detained, and through Armand’s excited + brain there had already flashed the thought that mayhap the Committee of + General Security would release her if he gave himself up. + </p> + <p> + These thoughts, and the making of plans, fortified him mentally and + physically; he even made a great effort to eat and drink, knowing that his + bodily strength must endure if it was going to be of service to Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + He reached the Quai de l’Horloge soon after nine. The grim, irregular + walls of the Chatelet and the house of Justice loomed from out the mantle + of mist that lay on the river banks. Armand skirted the square + clock-tower, and passed through the monumental gateways of the house of + Justice. + </p> + <p> + He knew that his best way to the prison would be through the halls and + corridors of the Tribunal, to which the public had access whenever the + court was sitting. The sittings began at ten, and already the usual crowd + of idlers were assembling—men and women who apparently had no other + occupation save to come day after day to this theatre of horrors and watch + the different acts of the heartrending dramas that were enacted here with + a kind of awful monotony. + </p> + <p> + Armand mingled with the crowd that stood about the courtyard, and anon + moved slowly up the gigantic flight of stone steps, talking lightly on + indifferent subjects. There was quite a goodly sprinkling of workingmen + amongst this crowd, and Armand in his toil-stained clothes attracted no + attention. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a word reached his ear—just a name flippantly spoken by + spiteful lips—and it changed the whole trend of his thoughts. Since + he had risen that morning he had thought of nothing but of Jeanne, and—in + connection with her—of Percy and his vain quest of her. Now that + name spoken by some one unknown brought his mind back to more definite + thoughts of his chief. + </p> + <p> + “Capet!” the name—intended as an insult, but actually merely + irrelevant—whereby the uncrowned little King of France was + designated by the revolutionary party. + </p> + <p> + Armand suddenly recollected that to-day was Sunday, the 19th of January. + He had lost count of days and of dates lately, but the name, “Capet,” had + brought everything back: the child in the Temple; the conference in + Blakeney’s lodgings; the plans for the rescue of the boy. That was to take + place to-day—Sunday, the 19th. The Simons would be moving from the + Temple, at what hour Blakeney did not know, but it would be today, and he + would be watching his opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Now Armand understood everything; a great wave of bitterness swept over + his soul. Percy had forgotten Jeanne! He was busy thinking of the child in + the Temple, and whilst Armand had been eating out his heart with anxiety, + the Scarlet Pimpernel, true only to his mission, and impatient of all + sentiment that interfered with his schemes, had left Jeanne to pay with + her life for the safety of the uncrowned King. + </p> + <p> + But the bitterness did not last long; on the contrary, a kind of wild + exultation took its place. If Percy had forgotten, then Armand could stand + by Jeanne alone. It was better so! He would save the loved one; it was his + duty and his right to work for her sake. Never for a moment did he doubt + that he could save her, that his life would be readily accepted in + exchange for hers. + </p> + <p> + The crowd around him was moving up the monumental steps, and Armand went + with the crowd. It lacked but a few minutes to ten now; soon the court + would begin to sit. In the olden days, when he was studying for the law, + Armand had often wandered about at will along the corridors of the house + of Justice. He knew exactly where the different prisons were situated + about the buildings, and how to reach the courtyards where the prisoners + took their daily exercise. + </p> + <p> + To watch those aristos who were awaiting trial and death taking their + recreation in these courtyards had become one of the sights of Paris. + Country cousins on a visit to the city were brought hither for + entertainment. Tall iron gates stood between the public and the prisoners, + and a row of sentinels guarded these gates; but if one was enterprising + and eager to see, one could glue one’s nose against the ironwork and watch + the ci-devant aristocrats in threadbare clothes trying to cheat their + horror of death by acting a farce of light-heartedness which their wan + faces and tear-dimmed eyes effectually belied. + </p> + <p> + All this Armand knew, and on this he counted. For a little while he joined + the crowd in the Salle des Pas Perdus, and wandered idly up and down the + majestic colonnaded hall. He even at one time formed part of the throng + that watched one of those quick tragedies that were enacted within the + great chamber of the court. A number of prisoners brought in, in a batch; + hurried interrogations, interrupted answers, a quick indictment, monstrous + in its flaring injustice, spoken by Foucquier-Tinville, the public + prosecutor, and listened to in all seriousness by men who dared to call + themselves judges of their fellows. + </p> + <p> + The accused had walked down the Champs Elysees without wearing a tricolour + cockade; the other had invested some savings in an English industrial + enterprise; yet another had sold public funds, causing them to depreciate + rather suddenly in the market! + </p> + <p> + Sometimes from one of these unfortunates led thus wantonly to butchery + there would come an excited protest, or from a woman screams of agonised + entreaty. But these were quickly silenced by rough blows from the + butt-ends of muskets, and condemnations—wholesale sentences of death—were + quickly passed amidst the cheers of the spectators and the howls of + derision from infamous jury and judge. + </p> + <p> + Oh! the mockery of it all—the awful, the hideous ignominy, the blot + of shame that would forever sully the historic name of France. Armand, + sickened with horror, could not bear more than a few minutes of this + monstrous spectacle. The same fate might even now be awaiting Jeanne. + Among the next batch of victims to this sacrilegious butchery he might + suddenly spy his beloved with her pale face and cheeks stained with her + tears. + </p> + <p> + He fled from the great chamber, keeping just a sufficiency of presence of + mind to join a knot of idlers who were drifting leisurely towards the + corridors. He followed in their wake and soon found himself in the long + Galerie des Prisonniers, along the flagstones of which two days ago de + Batz had followed his guide towards the lodgings of Heron. + </p> + <p> + On his left now were the arcades shut off from the courtyard beyond by + heavy iron gates. Through the ironwork Armand caught sight of a number of + women walking or sitting in the courtyard. He heard a man next to him + explaining to his friend that these were the female prisoners who would be + brought to trial that day, and he felt that his heart must burst at the + thought that mayhap Jeanne would be among them. + </p> + <p> + He elbowed his way cautiously to the front rank. Soon he found himself + beside a sentinel who, with a good-humoured jest, made way for him that he + might watch the aristos. Armand leaned against the grating, and his every + sense was concentrated in that of sight. + </p> + <p> + At first he could scarcely distinguish one woman from another amongst the + crowd that thronged the courtyard, and the close ironwork hindered his + view considerably. The women looked almost like phantoms in the grey misty + air, gliding slowly along with noiseless tread on the flag-stones. + </p> + <p> + Presently, however, his eyes, which mayhap were somewhat dim with tears, + became more accustomed to the hazy grey light and the moving figures that + looked so like shadows. He could distinguish isolated groups now, women + and girls sitting together under the colonnaded arcades, some reading, + others busy, with trembling fingers, patching and darning a poor, torn + gown. Then there were others who were actually chatting and laughing + together, and—oh, the pity of it! the pity and the shame!—a + few children, shrieking with delight, were playing hide and seek in and + out amongst the columns. + </p> + <p> + And, between them all, in and out like the children at play, unseen, yet + familiar to all, the spectre of Death, scythe and hour-glass in hand, + wandered, majestic and sure. + </p> + <p> + Armand’s very soul was in his eyes. So far he had not yet caught sight of + his beloved, and slowly—very slowly—a ray of hope was + filtering through the darkness of his despair. + </p> + <p> + The sentinel, who had stood aside for him, chaffed him for his intentness. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a sweetheart among these aristos, citizen?” he asked. “You seem + to be devouring them with your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Armand, with his rough clothes soiled with coal-dust, his face grimy and + streaked with sweat, certainly looked to have but little in common with + the ci-devant aristos who formed the hulk of the groups in the courtyard. + He looked up; the soldier was regarding him with obvious amusement, and at + sight of Armand’s wild, anxious eyes he gave vent to a coarse jest. + </p> + <p> + “Have I made a shrewd guess, citizen?” he said. “Is she among that lot?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know where she is,” said Armand almost involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “Then why don’t you find out?” queried the soldier. + </p> + <p> + The man was not speaking altogether unkindly. Armand, devoured with the + maddening desire to know, threw the last fragment of prudence to the wind. + He assumed a more careless air, trying to look as like a country bumpkin + in love as he could. + </p> + <p> + “I would like to find out,” he said, “but I don’t know where to inquire. + My sweetheart has certainly left her home,” he added lightly; “some say + that she has been false to me, but I think that, mayhap, she has been + arrested.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you gaby,” said the soldier good-humouredly, “go straight to + La Tournelle; you know where it is?” + </p> + <p> + Armand knew well enough, but thought it more prudent to keep up the air of + the ignorant lout. + </p> + <p> + “Straight down that first corridor on your right,” explained the other, + pointing in the direction which he had indicated, “you will find the + guichet of La Tournelle exactly opposite to you. Ask the concierge for the + register of female prisoners—every freeborn citizen of the Republic + has the right to inspect prison registers. It is a new decree framed for + safeguarding the liberty of the people. But if you do not press half a + livre in the hand of the concierge,” he added, speaking confidentially, + “you will find that the register will not be quite ready for your + inspection.” + </p> + <p> + “Half a livre!” exclaimed Armand, striving to play his part to the end. + “How can a poor devil of a labourer have half a livre to give away?” + </p> + <p> + “Well! a few sous will do in that case; a few sous are always welcome + these hard times.” + </p> + <p> + Armand took the hint, and as the crowd had drifted away momentarily to a + further portion of the corridor, he contrived to press a few copper coins + into the hand of the obliging soldier. + </p> + <p> + Of course, he knew his way to La Tournelle, and he would have covered the + distance that separated him from the guichet there with steps flying like + the wind, but, commending himself for his own prudence, he walked as + slowly as he could along the interminable corridor, past the several minor + courts of justice, and skirting the courtyard where the male prisoners + took their exercise. + </p> + <p> + At last, having struck sharply to his left and ascended a short flight of + stairs, he found himself in front of the guichet—a narrow wooden + box, wherein the clerk in charge of the prison registers sat nominally at + the disposal of the citizens of this free republic. + </p> + <p> + But to Armand’s almost overwhelming chagrin he found the place entirely + deserted. The guichet was closed down; there was not a soul in sight. The + disappointment was doubly keen, coming as it did in the wake of hope that + had refused to be gainsaid. Armand himself did not realise how sanguine he + had been until he discovered that he must wait and wait again—wait + for hours, all day mayhap, before he could get definite news of Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + He wandered aimlessly in the vicinity of that silent, deserted, cruel + spot, where a closed trapdoor seemed to shut off all his hopes of a speedy + sight of Jeanne. He inquired of the first sentinels whom he came across at + what hour the clerk of the registers would be back at his post; the + soldiers shrugged their shoulders and could give no information. Then + began Armand’s aimless wanderings round La Tournelle, his fruitless + inquiries, his wild, excited search for the hide-bound official who was + keeping from him the knowledge of Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + He went back to his sentinel well-wisher by the women’s courtyard, but + found neither consolation nor encouragement there. + </p> + <p> + “It is not the hour—quoi?” the soldier remarked with laconic + philosophy. + </p> + <p> + It apparently was not the hour when the prison registers were placed at + the disposal of the public. After much fruitless inquiry, Armand at last + was informed by a bon bourgeois, who was wandering about the house of + Justice and who seemed to know its multifarious rules, that the prison + registers all over Paris could only be consulted by the public between the + hours of six and seven in the evening. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing for it but to wait. Armand, whose temples were + throbbing, who was footsore, hungry, and wretched, could gain nothing by + continuing his aimless wanderings through the labyrinthine building. For + close upon another hour he stood with his face glued against the ironwork + which separated him from the female prisoners’ courtyard. Once it seemed + to him as if from its further end he caught the sound of that exquisitely + melodious voice which had rung forever in his ear since that memorable + evening when Jeanne’s dainty footsteps had first crossed the path of his + destiny. He strained his eyes to look in the direction whence the voice + had come, but the centre of the courtyard was planted with a small garden + of shrubs, and Armand could not see across it. At last, driven forth like + a wandering and lost soul, he turned back and out into the streets. The + air was mild and damp. The sharp thaw had persisted through the day, and a + thin, misty rain was falling and converting the ill-paved roads into seas + of mud. + </p> + <p> + But of this Armand was wholly unconscious. He walked along the quay + holding his cap in his hand, so that the mild south wind should cool his + burning forehead. + </p> + <p> + How he contrived to kill those long, weary hours he could not afterwards + have said. Once he felt very hungry, and turned almost mechanically into + an eating-house, and tried to eat and drink. But most of the day he + wandered through the streets, restlessly, unceasingly, feeling neither + chill nor fatigue. The hour before six o’clock found him on the Quai de + l’Horloge in the shadow of the great towers of the Hall of Justice, + listening for the clang of the clock that would sound the hour of his + deliverance from this agonising torture of suspense. + </p> + <p> + He found his way to La Tournelle without any hesitation. There before him + was the wooden box, with its guichet open at last, and two stands upon its + ledge, on which were placed two huge leather-bound books. + </p> + <p> + Though Armand was nearly an hour before the appointed time, he saw when he + arrived a number of people standing round the guichet. Two soldiers were + there keeping guard and forcing the patient, long-suffering inquirers to + stand in a queue, each waiting his or her turn at the books. + </p> + <p> + It was a curious crowd that stood there, in single file, as if waiting at + the door of the cheaper part of a theatre; men in substantial cloth + clothes, and others in ragged blouse and breeches; there were a few women, + too, with black shawls on their shoulders and kerchiefs round their wan, + tear-stained faces. + </p> + <p> + They were all silent and absorbed, submissive under the rough handling of + the soldiery, humble and deferential when anon the clerk of the registers + entered his box, and prepared to place those fateful books at the disposal + of those who had lost a loved one—father, brother, mother, or wife—and + had come to search through those cruel pages. + </p> + <p> + From inside his box the clerk disputed every inquirer’s right to consult + the books; he made as many difficulties as he could, demanding the + production of certificates of safety, or permits from the section. He was + as insolent as he dared, and Armand from where he stood could see that a + continuous if somewhat thin stream of coppers flowed from the hands of the + inquirers into those of the official. + </p> + <p> + It was quite dark in the passage where the long queue continued to swell + with amazing rapidity. Only on the ledge in front of the guichet there was + a guttering tallow candle at the disposal of the inquirers. + </p> + <p> + Now it was Armand’s turn at last. By this time his heart was beating so + strongly and so rapidly that he could not have trusted himself to speak. + He fumbled in his pocket, and without unnecessary preliminaries he + produced a small piece of silver, and pushed it towards the clerk, then he + seized on the register marked “Femmes” with voracious avidity. + </p> + <p> + The clerk had with stolid indifference pocketed the half-livre; he looked + on Armand over a pair of large bone-rimmed spectacles, with the air of an + old hawk that sees a helpless bird and yet is too satiated to eat. He was + apparently vastly amused at Armand’s trembling hands, and the clumsy, + aimless way with which he fingered the book and held up the tallow candle. + </p> + <p> + “What date?” he asked curtly in a piping voice. + </p> + <p> + “What date?” reiterated Armand vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “What day and hour was she arrested?” said the man, thrusting his + beak-like nose closer to Armand’s face. Evidently the piece of silver had + done its work well; he meant to be helpful to this country lout. + </p> + <p> + “On Friday evening,” murmured the young man. + </p> + <p> + The clerk’s hands did not in character gainsay the rest of his appearance; + they were long and thin, with nails that resembled the talons of a hawk. + Armand watched them fascinated as from above they turned over rapidly the + pages of the book; then one long, grimy finger pointed to a row of names + down a column. + </p> + <p> + “If she is here,” said the man curtly, “her name should be amongst these.” + </p> + <p> + Armand’s vision was blurred. He could scarcely see. The row of names was + dancing a wild dance in front of his eyes; perspiration stood out on his + forehead, and his breath came in quick, stertorous gasps. + </p> + <p> + He never knew afterwards whether he actually saw Jeanne’s name there in + the book, or whether his fevered brain was playing his aching senses a + cruel and mocking trick. Certain it is that suddenly amongst a row of + indifferent names hers suddenly stood clearly on the page, and to him it + seemed as if the letters were writ out in blood. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 582. Belhomme, Louise, aged sixty. Discharged. +</pre> + <p> + And just below, the other entry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 583. Lange, Jeanne, aged twenty, actress. Square du Roule + No.5. Suspected of harbouring traitors and ci-devants. + Transferred 29th Nivose to the Temple, cell 29. +</pre> + <p> + He saw nothing more, for suddenly it seemed to him as if some one held a + vivid scarlet veil in front of his eyes, whilst a hundred claw-like hands + were tearing at his heart and at his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Clear out now! it is my turn—what? Are you going to stand there all + night?” + </p> + <p> + A rough voice seemed to be speaking these words; rough hands apparently + were pushing him out of the way, and some one snatched the candle out of + his hand; but nothing was real. He stumbled over a corner of a loose + flagstone, and would have fallen, but something seemed to catch hold of + him and to lead him away for a little distance, until a breath of cold air + blew upon his face. + </p> + <p> + This brought him back to his senses. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne was a prisoner in the Temple; then his place was in the prison of + the Temple, too. It could not be very difficult to run one’s head into the + noose that caught so many necks these days. A few cries of “Vive le roi!” + or “A bas la republique!” and more than one prison door would gape + invitingly to receive another guest. + </p> + <p> + The hot blood had rushed into Armand’s head. He did not see clearly before + him, nor did he hear distinctly. There was a buzzing in his ears as of + myriads of mocking birds’ wings, and there was a veil in front of his eyes—a + veil through which he saw faces and forms flitting ghost-like in the + gloom, men and women jostling or being jostled, soldiers, sentinels; then + long, interminable corridors, more crowd and more soldiers, winding + stairs, courtyards and gates; finally the open street, the quay, and the + river beyond. + </p> + <p> + An incessant hammering went on in his temples, and that veil never lifted + from before his eyes. Now it was lurid and red, as if stained with blood; + anon it was white like a shroud but it was always there. + </p> + <p> + Through it he saw the Pont-au-Change, which he crossed, then far down on + the Quai de l’Ecole to the left the corner house behind St. Germain + l’Auxerrois, where Blakeney lodged—Blakeney, who for the sake of a + stranger had forgotten all about his comrade and Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + Through it he saw the network of streets which separated him from the + neighbourhood of the Temple, the gardens of ruined habitations, the + closely-shuttered and barred windows of ducal houses, then the mean + streets, the crowded drinking bars, the tumble-down shops with their + dilapidated awnings. + </p> + <p> + He saw with eyes that did not see, heard the tumult of daily life round + him with ears that did not hear. Jeanne was in the Temple prison, and when + its grim gates closed finally for the night, he—Armand, her + chevalier, her lover, her defender—would be within its walls as near + to cell No. 29 as bribery, entreaty, promises would help him to attain. + </p> + <p> + Ah! there at last loomed the great building, the pointed bastions cut + through the surrounding gloom as with a sable knife. + </p> + <p> + Armand reached the gate; the sentinels challenged him; he replied: + </p> + <p> + “Vive le roi!” shouting wildly like one who is drunk. + </p> + <p> + He was hatless, and his clothes were saturated with moisture. He tried to + pass, but crossed bayonets barred the way. Still he shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Vive le roi!” and “A bas la republique!” + </p> + <p> + “Allons! the fellow is drunk!” said one of the soldiers. + </p> + <p> + Armand fought like a madman; he wanted to reach that gate. He shouted, he + laughed, and he cried, until one of the soldiers in a fit of rage struck + him heavily on the head. + </p> + <p> + Armand fell backwards, stunned by the blow; his foot slipped on the wet + pavement. Was he indeed drunk, or was he dreaming? He put his hand up to + his forehead; it was wet, but whether with the rain or with blood he did + not know; but for the space of one second he tried to collect his + scattered wits. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen St. Just!” said a quiet voice at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + Then, as he looked round dazed, feeling a firm, pleasant grip on his arm, + the same quiet voice continued calmly: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you do not remember me, citizen St. Just. I had not the honour of + the same close friendship with you as I had with your charming sister. My + name is Chauvelin. Can I be of any service to you?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. CHAUVELIN + </h2> + <p> + Chauvelin! The presence of this man here at this moment made the events of + the past few days seem more absolutely like a dream. Chauvelin!—the + most deadly enemy he, Armand, and his sister Marguerite had in the world. + Chauvelin!—the evil genius that presided over the Secret Service of + the Republic. Chauvelin—the aristocrat turned revolutionary, the + diplomat turned spy, the baffled enemy of the Scarlet Pimpernel. + </p> + <p> + He stood there vaguely outlined in the gloom by the feeble rays of an oil + lamp fixed into the wall just above. The moisture on his sable clothes + glistened in the flickering light like a thin veil of crystal; it clung to + the rim of his hat, to the folds of his cloak; the ruffles at his throat + and wrist hung limp and soiled. + </p> + <p> + He had released Armand’s arm, and held his hands now underneath his cloak; + his pale, deep-set eyes rested gravely on the younger man’s face. + </p> + <p> + “I had an idea, somehow,” continued Chauvelin calmly, “that you and I + would meet during your sojourn in Paris. I heard from my friend Heron that + you had been in the city; he, unfortunately, lost your track almost as + soon as he had found it, and I, too, had begun to fear that our mutual and + ever enigmatical friend, the Scarlet Pimpernel, had spirited you away, + which would have been a great disappointment to me.” + </p> + <p> + Now he once more took hold of Armand by the elbow, but quite gently, more + like a comrade who is glad to have met another, and is preparing to enjoy + a pleasant conversation for a while. He led the way back to the gate, the + sentinel saluting at sight of the tricolour scarf which was visible + underneath his cloak. Under the stone rampart Chauvelin paused. + </p> + <p> + It was quiet and private here. The group of soldiers stood at the further + end of the archway, but they were out of hearing, and their forms were + only vaguely discernible in the surrounding darkness. + </p> + <p> + Armand had followed his enemy mechanically like one bewitched and + irresponsible for his actions. When Chauvelin paused he too stood still, + not because of the grip on his arm, but because of that curious numbing of + his will. + </p> + <p> + Vague, confused thoughts were floating through his brain, the most + dominant one among them being that Fate had effectually ordained + everything for the best. Here was Chauvelin, a man who hated him, who, of + course, would wish to see him dead. Well, surely it must be an easier + matter now to barter his own life for that of Jeanne; she had only been + arrested on suspicion of harbouring him, who was a known traitor to the + Republic; then, with his capture and speedy death, her supposed guilt + would, he hoped, be forgiven. These people could have no ill-will against + her, and actors and actresses were always leniently dealt with when + possible. Then surely, surely, he could serve Jeanne best by his own + arrest and condemnation, than by working to rescue her from prison. + </p> + <p> + In the meanwhile Chauvelin shook the damp from off his cloak, talking all + the time in his own peculiar, gently ironical manner. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Blakeney?” he was saying—“I hope that she is well!” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir,” murmured Armand mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “And my dear friend, Sir Percy Blakeney? I had hoped to meet him in Paris. + Ah! but no doubt he has been busy very busy; but I live in hopes—I + live in hopes. See how kindly Chance has treated me,” he continued in the + same bland and mocking tones. “I was taking a stroll in these parts, + scarce hoping to meet a friend, when, passing the postern-gate of this + charming hostelry, whom should I see but my amiable friend St. Just + striving to gain admission. But, la! here am I talking of myself, and I am + not re-assured as to your state of health. You felt faint just now, did + you not? The air about this building is very dank and close. I hope you + feel better now. Command me, pray, if I can be of service to you in any + way.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Chauvelin talked he had drawn Armand after him into the lodge of + the concierge. The young man now made a great effort to pull himself + vigorously together and to steady his nerves. + </p> + <p> + He had his wish. He was inside the Temple prison now, not far from Jeanne, + and though his enemy was older and less vigorous than himself, and the + door of the concierge’s lodge stood wide open, he knew that he was in-deed + as effectually a prisoner already as if the door of one of the numerous + cells in this gigantic building had been bolted and barred upon him. + </p> + <p> + This knowledge helped him to recover his complete presence of mind. No + thought of fighting or trying to escape his fate entered his head for a + moment. It had been useless probably, and undoubtedly it was better so. If + he only could see Jeanne, and assure himself that she would be safe in + consequence of his own arrest, then, indeed, life could hold no greater + happiness for him. + </p> + <p> + Above all now he wanted to be cool and calculating, to curb the excitement + which the Latin blood in him called forth at every mention of the loved + one’s name. He tried to think of Percy, of his calmness, his easy banter + with an enemy; he resolved to act as Percy would act under these + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Firstly, he steadied his voice, and drew his well-knit, slim figure + upright. He called to mind all his friends in England, with their rigid + manners, their impassiveness in the face of trying situations. There was + Lord Tony, for instance, always ready with some boyish joke, with boyish + impertinence always hovering on his tongue. Armand tried to emulate Lord + Tony’s manner, and to borrow something of Percy’s calm impudence. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen Chauvelin,” he said, as soon as he felt quite sure of the + steadiness of his voice and the calmness of his manner, “I wonder if you + are quite certain that that light grip which you have on my arm is + sufficient to keep me here walking quietly by your side instead of + knocking you down, as I certainly feel inclined to do, for I am a younger, + more vigorous man than you.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” said Chauvelin, who made pretence to ponder over this difficult + problem; “like you, citizen St. Just, I wonder—” + </p> + <p> + “It could easily be done, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Fairly easily,” rejoined the other; “but there is the guard; it is + numerous and strong in this building, and—” + </p> + <p> + “The gloom would help me; it is dark in the corridors, and a desperate man + takes risks, remember—” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so! And you, citizen St. Just, are a desperate man just now.” + </p> + <p> + “My sister Marguerite is not here, citizen Chauvelin. You cannot barter my + life for that of your enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “No! no! no!” rejoined Chauvelin blandly; “not for that of my enemy, I + know, but—” + </p> + <p> + Armand caught at his words like a drowning man at a reed. + </p> + <p> + “For hers!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “For hers?” queried the other with obvious puzzlement. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Lange,” continued Armand with all the egoistic ardour of the + lover who believes that the attention of the entire world is concentrated + upon his beloved. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Lange! You will set her free now that I am in your power.” + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin smiled, his usual suave, enigmatical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” he said. “Mademoiselle Lange. I had forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgotten, man?—forgotten that those murderous dogs have arrested + her?—the best, the purest, this vile, degraded country has ever + produced. She sheltered me one day just for an hour. I am a traitor to the + Republic—I own it. I’ll make full confession; but she knew nothing + of this. I deceived her; she is quite innocent, you understand? I’ll make + full confession, but you must set her free.” + </p> + <p> + He had gradually worked himself up again to a state of feverish + excitement. Through the darkness which hung about in this small room he + tried to peer in Chauvelin’s impassive face. + </p> + <p> + “Easy, easy, my young friend,” said the other placidly; “you seem to + imagine that I have something to do with the arrest of the lady in whom + you take so deep an interest. You forget that now I am but a discredited + servant of the Republic whom I failed to serve in her need. My life is + only granted me out of pity for my efforts, which were genuine if not + successful. I have no power to set any one free.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor to arrest me now, in that case!” retorted Armand. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin paused a moment before he replied with a deprecating smile: + </p> + <p> + “Only to denounce you, perhaps. I am still an agent of the Committee of + General Security.” + </p> + <p> + “Then all is for the best!” exclaimed St. Just eagerly. “You shall + denounce me to the Committee. They will be glad of my arrest, I assure + you. I have been a marked man for some time. I had intended to evade + arrest and to work for the rescue of Mademoiselle Lange; but I will give + up all thought of that—I will deliver myself into your hands + absolutely; nay, more, I will give you my most solemn word of honour that + not only will I make no attempt at escape, but that I will not allow any + one to help me to do so. I will be a passive and willing prisoner if you, + on the other hand, will effect Mademoiselle Lange’s release.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” mused Chauvelin again, “it sounds feasible.” + </p> + <p> + “It does! it does!” rejoined Armand, whose excitement was at fever-pitch. + “My arrest, my condemnation, my death, will be of vast deal more + importance to you than that of a young and innocent girl against whom + unlikely charges would have to be tricked up, and whose acquittal mayhap + public feeling might demand. As for me, I shall be an easy prey; my known + counter-revolutionary principles, my sister’s marriage with a foreigner—” + </p> + <p> + “Your connection with the Scarlet Pimpernel,” suggested Chauvelin blandly. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so. I should not defend myself—” + </p> + <p> + “And your enigmatical friend would not attempt your rescue. C’est + entendu,” said Chauvelin with his wonted blandness. “Then, my dear, + enthusiastic young friend, shall we adjourn to the office of my colleague, + citizen Heron, who is chief agent of the Committee of General Security, + and will receive your—did you say confession?—and note the + conditions under which you place yourself absolutely in the hands of the + Public Prosecutor and subsequently of the executioner. Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + Armand was too full of schemes, too full of thoughts of Jeanne to note the + tone of quiet irony with which Chauvelin had been speaking all along. With + the unreasoning egoism of youth he was quite convinced that his own + arrest, his own affairs were as important to this entire nation in + revolution as they were to himself. At moments like these it is difficult + to envisage a desperate situation clearly, and to a young man in love the + fate of the beloved never seems desperate whilst he himself is alive and + ready for every sacrifice for her sake. “My life for hers” is the sublime + if often foolish battle-cry that has so often resulted in whole-sale + destruction. Armand at this moment, when he fondly believed that he was + making a bargain with the most astute, most unscrupulous spy this + revolutionary Government had in its pay—Armand just then had + absolutely forgotten his chief, his friends, the league of mercy and help + to which he belonged. + </p> + <p> + Enthusiasm and the spirit of self-sacrifice were carrying him away. He + watched his enemy with glowing eyes as one who looks on the arbiter of his + fate. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin, without another word, beckoned to him to follow. He led the way + out of the lodge, then, turning sharply to his left, he reached the wide + quadrangle with the covered passage running right round it, the same which + de Batz had traversed two evenings ago when he went to visit Heron. + </p> + <p> + Armand, with a light heart and springy step, followed him as if he were + going to a feast where he would meet Jeanne, where he would kneel at her + feet, kiss her hands, and lead her triumphantly to freedom and to + happiness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. THE REMOVAL + </h2> + <p> + Chauvelin no longer made any pretence to hold Armand by the arm. By + temperament as well as by profession a spy, there was one subject at least + which he had mastered thoroughly: that was the study of human nature. + Though occasionally an exceptionally complex mental organisation baffled + him—as in the case of Sir Percy Blakeney—he prided himself, + and justly, too, on reading natures like that of Armand St. Just as he + would an open book. + </p> + <p> + The excitable disposition of the Latin races he knew out and out; he knew + exactly how far a sentimental situation would lead a young Frenchman like + Armand, who was by disposition chivalrous, and by temperament essentially + passionate. Above all things, he knew when and how far he could trust a + man to do either a sublime action or an essentially foolish one. + </p> + <p> + Therefore he walked along contentedly now, not even looking back to see + whether St. Just was following him. He knew that he did. + </p> + <p> + His thoughts only dwelt on the young enthusiast—in his mind he + called him the young fool—in order to weigh in the balance the + mighty possibilities that would accrue from the present sequence of + events. The fixed idea ever working in the man’s scheming brain had + already transformed a vague belief into a certainty. That the Scarlet + Pimpernel was in Paris at the present moment Chauvelin had now become + convinced. How far he could turn the capture of Armand St. Just to the + triumph of his own ends remained to be seen. + </p> + <p> + But this he did know: the Scarlet Pimpernel—the man whom he had + learned to know, to dread, and even in a grudging manner to admire—was + not like to leave one of his followers in the lurch. Marguerite’s brother + in the Temple would be the surest decoy for the elusive meddler who still, + and in spite of all care and precaution, continued to baffle the army of + spies set upon his track. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin could hear Armand’s light, elastic footsteps resounding behind + him on the flagstones. A world of intoxicating possibilities surged up + before him. Ambition, which two successive dire failures had atrophied in + his breast, once more rose up buoyant and hopeful. Once he had sworn to + lay the Scarlet Pimpernel by the heels, and that oath was not yet wholly + forgotten; it had lain dormant after the catastrophe of Boulogne, but with + the sight of Armand St. Just it had re-awakened and confronted him again + with the strength of a likely fulfilment. + </p> + <p> + The courtyard looked gloomy and deserted. The thin drizzle which still + fell from a persistently leaden sky effectually held every outline of + masonry, of column, or of gate hidden as beneath a shroud. The corridor + which skirted it all round was ill-lighted save by an occasional oil-lamp + fixed in the wall. + </p> + <p> + But Chauvelin knew his way well. Heron’s lodgings gave on the second + courtyard, the Square du Nazaret, and the way thither led past the main + square tower, in the top floor of which the uncrowned King of France eked + out his miserable existence as the plaything of a rough cobbler and his + wife. + </p> + <p> + Just beneath its frowning bastions Chauvelin turned back towards Armand. + He pointed with a careless hand up-wards to the central tower. + </p> + <p> + “We have got little Capet in there,” he said dryly. “Your chivalrous + Scarlet Pimpernel has not ventured in these precincts yet, you see.” + </p> + <p> + Armand was silent. He had no difficulty in looking unconcerned; his + thoughts were so full of Jeanne that he cared but little at this moment + for any Bourbon king or for the destinies of France. + </p> + <p> + Now the two men reached the postern gate. A couple of sentinels were + standing by, but the gate itself was open, and from within there came the + sound of bustle and of noise, of a good deal of swearing, and also of loud + laughter. + </p> + <p> + The guard-room gave on the left of the gate, and the laughter came from + there. It was brilliantly lighted, and Armand, peering in, in the wake of + Chauvelin, could see groups of soldiers sitting and standing about. There + was a table in the centre of the room, and on it a number of jugs and + pewter mugs, packets of cards, and overturned boxes of dice. + </p> + <p> + But the bustle did not come from the guard-room; it came from the landing + and the stone stairs beyond. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin, apparently curious, had passed through the gate, and Armand + followed him. The light from the open door of the guard-room cut sharply + across the landing, making the gloom beyond appear more dense and almost + solid. From out the darkness, fitfully intersected by a lanthorn + apparently carried to and fro, moving figures loomed out ghost-like and + weirdly gigantic. Soon Armand distinguished a number of large objects that + encumbered the landing, and as he and Chauvelin left the sharp light of + the guard-room behind them, he could see that the large objects were + pieces of furniture of every shape and size; a wooden bedstead—dismantled—leaned + against the wall, a black horsehair sofa blocked the way to the tower + stairs, and there were numberless chairs and several tables piled one on + the top of the other. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this litter a stout, flabby-cheeked man stood, apparently + giving directions as to its removal to persons at present unseen. + </p> + <p> + “Hola, Papa Simon!” exclaimed Chauvelin jovially; “moving out to-day? + What?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank the Lord!—if there be a Lord!” retorted the other + curtly. “Is that you, citizen Chauvelin?” + </p> + <p> + “In person, citizen. I did not know you were leaving quite so soon. Is + citizen Heron anywhere about?” + </p> + <p> + “Just left,” replied Simon. “He had a last look at Capet just before my + wife locked the brat up in the inner room. Now he’s gone back to his + lodgings.” + </p> + <p> + A man carrying a chest, empty of its drawers, on his back now came + stumbling down the tower staircase. Madame Simon followed close on his + heels, steadying the chest with one hand. + </p> + <p> + “We had better begin to load up the cart,” she called to her husband in a + high-pitched querulous voice; “the corridor is getting too much + encumbered.” + </p> + <p> + She looked suspiciously at Chauvelin and at Armand, and when she + encountered the former’s bland, unconcerned gaze she suddenly shivered and + drew her black shawl closer round her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” she said, “I shall be glad to get out of this God-forsaken hole. I + hate the very sight of these walls.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, the citizeness does not look over robust in health,” said + Chauvelin with studied politeness. “The stay in the tower did not, mayhap, + bring forth all the fruits of prosperity which she had anticipated.” + </p> + <p> + The woman eyed him with dark suspicion lurking in her hollow eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you mean, citizen,” she said with a shrug of her wide + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I meant nothing,” rejoined Chauvelin, smiling. “I am so interested in + your removal; busy man as I am, it has amused me to watch you. Whom have + you got to help you with the furniture?” + </p> + <p> + “Dupont, the man-of-all-work, from the concierge,” said Simon curtly. + “Citizen Heron would not allow any one to come in from the outside.” + </p> + <p> + “Rightly too. Have the new commissaries come yet? + </p> + <p> + “Only citizen Cochefer. He is waiting upstairs for the others.” + </p> + <p> + “And Capet?” + </p> + <p> + “He is all safe. Citizen Heron came to see him, and then he told me to + lock the little vermin up in the inner room. Citizen Cochefer had just + arrived by that time, and he has remained in charge.” + </p> + <p> + During all this while the man with the chest on his back was waiting for + orders. Bent nearly double, he was grumbling audibly at his uncomfortable + position. + </p> + <p> + “Does the citizen want to break my back?” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “We had best get along—quoi?” + </p> + <p> + He asked if he should begin to carry the furniture out into the street. + </p> + <p> + “Two sous have I got to pay every ten minutes to the lad who holds my + nag,” he said, muttering under his breath; “we shall be all night at this + rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Begin to load then,” commanded Simon gruffly. “Here!—begin with + this sofa.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have to give me a hand with that,” said the man. “Wait a bit; I’ll + just see that everything is all right in the cart. I’ll be back directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Take something with you then as you are going down,” said Madame Simon in + her querulous voice. + </p> + <p> + The man picked up a basket of linen that stood in the angle by the door. + He hoisted it on his back and shuffled away with it across the landing and + out through the gate. + </p> + <p> + “How did Capet like parting from his papa and maman?” asked Chauvelin with + a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” growled Simon laconically. “He will find out soon enough how well + off he was under our care.” + </p> + <p> + “Have the other commissaries come yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But they will be here directly. Citizen Cochefer is upstairs mounting + guard over Capet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-bye, Papa Simon,” concluded Chauvelin jovially. “Citizeness, + your servant!” + </p> + <p> + He bowed with unconcealed irony to the cobbler’s wife, and nodded to Simon, + who expressed by a volley of motley oaths his exact feelings with regard + to all the agents of the Committee of General Security. + </p> + <p> + “Six months of this penal servitude have we had,” he said roughly, “and no + thanks or pension. I would as soon serve a ci-devant aristo as your + accursed Committee.” + </p> + <p> + The man Dupont had returned. Stolidly, after the fashion of his kind, he + commenced the removal of citizen Simon’s goods. He seemed a clumsy enough + creature, and Simon and his wife had to do most of the work themselves. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin watched the moving forms for a while, then he shrugged his + shoulders with a laugh of indifference, and turned on his heel. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. IT IS ABOUT THE DAUPHIN + </h2> + <p> + Heron was not at his lodgings when, at last, after vigorous pulls at the + bell, a great deal of waiting and much cursing, Chauvelin, closely + followed by Armand, was introduced in the chief agent’s office. + </p> + <p> + The soldier who acted as servant said that citizen Heron had gone out to + sup, but would surely be home again by eight o’clock. Armand by this time + was so dazed with fatigue that he sank on a chair like a log, and remained + there staring into the fire, unconscious of the flight of time. + </p> + <p> + Anon Heron came home. He nodded to Chauvelin, and threw but a cursory + glance on Armand. + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes, citizen,” he said, with a rough attempt at an apology. “I + am sorry to keep you waiting, but the new commissaries have arrived who + are to take charge of Capet. The Simons have just gone, and I want to + assure myself that everything is all right in the Tower. Cochefer has been + in charge, but I like to cast an eye over the brat every day myself.” + </p> + <p> + He went out again, slamming the door behind him. His heavy footsteps were + heard treading the flagstones of the corridor, and gradually dying away in + the distance. Armand had paid no heed either to his entrance or to his + exit. He was only conscious of an intense weariness, and would at this + moment gladly have laid his head on the scaffold if on it he could find + rest. + </p> + <p> + A white-faced clock on the wall ticked off the seconds one by one. From + the street below came the muffled sounds of wheeled traffic on the soft + mud of the road; it was raining more heavily now, and from time to time a + gust of wind rattled the small windows in their dilapidated frames, or + hurled a shower of heavy drops against the panes. + </p> + <p> + The heat from the stove had made Armand drowsy; his head fell forward on + his chest. Chauvelin, with his hands held behind his back, paced + ceaselessly up and down the narrow room. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Armand started—wide awake now. Hurried footsteps on the + flagstones outside, a hoarse shout, a banging of heavy doors, and the next + moment Heron stood once more on the threshold of the room. Armand, with + wide-opened eyes, gazed on him in wonder. The whole appearance of the man + had changed. He looked ten years older, with lank, dishevelled hair + hanging matted over a moist forehead, the cheeks ashen-white, the full + lips bloodless and hanging, flabby and parted, displaying both rows of + yellow teeth that shook against each other. The whole figure looked bowed, + as if shrunk within itself. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin had paused in his restless walk. He gazed on his colleague, a + frown of puzzlement on his pale, set face. + </p> + <p> + “Capet!” he exclaimed, as soon as he had taken in every detail of Heron’s + altered appearance, and seen the look of wild terror that literally + distorted his face. + </p> + <p> + Heron could not speak; his teeth were chattering in his mouth, and his + tongue seemed paralysed. Chauvelin went up to him. He was several inches + shorter than his colleague, but at this moment he seemed to be towering + over him like an avenging spirit. He placed a firm hand on the other’s + bowed shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Capet has gone—is that it?” he queried peremptorily. + </p> + <p> + The look of terror increased in Heron’s eyes, giving its mute reply. + </p> + <p> + “How? When?” + </p> + <p> + But for the moment the man was speechless. An almost maniacal fear seemed + to hold him in its grip. With an impatient oath Chauvelin turned away from + him. + </p> + <p> + “Brandy!” he said curtly, speaking to Armand. + </p> + <p> + A bottle and glass were found in the cupboard. It was St. Just who poured + out the brandy and held it to Heron’s lips. Chauvelin was once more pacing + up and down the room in angry impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Pull yourself together, man,” he said roughly after a while, “and try and + tell me what has occurred.” + </p> + <p> + Heron had sunk into a chair. He passed a trembling hand once or twice over + his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Capet has disappeared,” he murmured; “he must have been spirited away + while the Simons were moving their furniture. That accursed Cochefer was + completely taken in.” + </p> + <p> + Heron spoke in a toneless voice, hardly above a whisper, and like one + whose throat is dry and mouth parched. But the brandy had revived him + somewhat, and his eyes lost their former glassy look. + </p> + <p> + “How?” asked Chauvelin curtly. + </p> + <p> + “I was just leaving the Tower when he arrived. I spoke to him at the door. + I had seen Capet safely installed in the room, and gave orders to the + woman Simon to let citizen Cochefer have a look at him, too, and then to + lock up the brat in the inner room and install Cochefer in the antechamber + on guard. I stood talking to Cochefer for a few moments in the + antechamber. The woman Simon and the man-of-all-work, Dupont—whom I + know well—were busy with the furniture. There could not have been + any one else concealed about the place—that I’ll swear. Cochefer, + after he took leave of me, went straight into the room; he found the woman + Simon in the act of turning the key in the door of the inner chamber. I + have locked Capet in there,’ she said, giving the key to Cochefer; ‘he + will be quite safe until to-night; when the other commissaries come.’” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t Cochefer go into the room and ascertain whether the woman was + lying?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he did! He made the woman re-open the door and peeped in over her + shoulder. She said the child was asleep. He vows that he saw the child + lying fully dressed on a rug in the further corner of the room. The room, + of course, was quite empty of furniture and only lighted by one candle, + but there was the rug and the child asleep on it. Cochefer swears he saw + him, and now—when I went up—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “The commissaries were all there—Cochefer and Lasniere, Lorinet and + Legrand. We went into the inner room, and I had a candle in my hand. We + saw the child lying on the rug, just as Cochefer had seen him, and for a + while we took no notice of it. Then some one—I think it was Lorinet—went + to have a closer look at the brat. He took up the candle and went up to + the rug. Then he gave a cry, and we all gathered round him. The sleeping + child was only a bundle of hair and of clothes, a dummy—what?” + </p> + <p> + There was silence now in the narrow room, while the white-faced clock + continued to tick off each succeeding second of time. Heron had once more + buried his head in his hands; a trembling—like an attack of ague—shook + his wide, bony shoulders. Armand had listened to the narrative with + glowing eyes and a beating heart. The details which the two Terrorists + here could not probably understand he had already added to the picture + which his mind had conjured up. + </p> + <p> + He was back in thought now in the small lodging in the rear of St. Germain + l’Auxerrois; Sir Andrew Ffoulkes was there, and my Lord Tony and Hastings, + and a man was striding up and down the room, looking out into the great + space beyond the river with the eyes of a seer, and a firm voice said + abruptly: + </p> + <p> + “It is about the Dauphin!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any suspicions?” asked Chauvelin now, pausing in his walk beside + Heron, and once more placing a firm, peremptory hand on his colleague’s + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Suspicions!” exclaimed the chief agent with a loud oath. “Suspicions! + Certainties, you mean. The man sat here but two days ago, in that very + chair, and bragged of what he would do. I told him then that if he + interfered with Capet I would wring his neck with my own hands.” + </p> + <p> + And his long, talon-like fingers, with their sharp, grimy nails, closed + and unclosed like those of feline creatures when they hold the coveted + prey. + </p> + <p> + “Of whom do you speak?” queried Chauvelin curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Of whom? Of whom but that accursed de Batz? His pockets are bulging with + Austrian money, with which, no doubt, he has bribed the Simons and + Cochefer and the sentinels—” + </p> + <p> + “And Lorinet and Lasniere and you,” interposed Chauvelin dryly. + </p> + <p> + “It is false!” roared Heron, who already at the suggestion was foaming at + the mouth, and had jumped up from his chair, standing at bay as if + prepared to fight for his life. + </p> + <p> + “False, is it?” retorted Chauvelin calmly; “then be not so quick, friend + Heron, in slashing out with senseless denunciations right and left. You’ll + gain nothing by denouncing any one just now. This is too intricate a + matter to be dealt with a sledge-hammer. Is any one up in the Tower at + this moment?” he asked in quiet, business-like tones. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Cochefer and the others are still there. They are making wild + schemes to cover their treachery. Cochefer is aware of his own danger, and + Lasniere and the others know that they arrived at the Tower several hours + too late. They are all at fault, and they know it. As for that de Batz,” + he continued with a voice rendered raucous with bitter passion, “I swore + to him two days ago that he should not escape me if he meddled with Capet. + I’m on his track already. I’ll have him before the hour of midnight, and + I’ll torture him—yes! I’ll torture him—the Tribunal shall give + me leave. We have a dark cell down below here where my men know how to + apply tortures worse than the rack—where they know just how to + prolong life long enough to make it unendurable. I’ll torture him! I’ll + torture him!” + </p> + <p> + But Chauvelin abruptly silenced the wretch with a curt command; then, + without another word, he walked straight out of the room. + </p> + <p> + In thought Armand followed him. The wild desire was suddenly born in him + to run away at this moment, while Heron, wrapped in his own meditations, + was paying no heed to him. Chauvelin’s footsteps had long ago died away in + the distance; it was a long way to the upper floor of the Tower, and some + time would be spent, too, in interrogating the commissaries. This was + Armand’s opportunity. After all, if he were free himself he might more + effectually help to rescue Jeanne. He knew, too, now where to join his + leader. The corner of the street by the canal, where Sir Andrew Ffoulkes + would be waiting with the coal-cart; then there was the spinney on the + road to St. Germain. Armand hoped that, with good luck, he might yet + overtake his comrades, tell them of Jeanne’s plight, and entreat them to + work for her rescue. + </p> + <p> + He had forgotten that now he had no certificate of safety, that + undoubtedly he would be stopped at the gates at this hour of the night; + that his conduct proving suspect he would in all probability he detained, + and, mayhap, be brought back to this self-same place within an hour. He + had forgotten all that, for the primeval instinct for freedom had suddenly + been aroused. He rose softly from his chair and crossed the room. Heron + paid no attention to him. Now he had traversed the antechamber and + unlatched the outer door. + </p> + <p> + Immediately a couple of bayonets were crossed in front of him, two more + further on ahead scintillated feebly in the flickering light. Chauvelin + had taken his precautions. There was no doubt that Armand St. Just was + effectually a prisoner now. + </p> + <p> + With a sigh of disappointment he went back to his place beside the fire. + Heron had not even moved whilst he had made this futile attempt at escape. + Five minutes later Chauvelin re-entered the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. THE CERTIFICATE OF SAFETY + </h2> + <p> + “You can leave de Batz and his gang alone, citizen Heron,” said Chauvelin, + as soon as he had closed the door behind him; “he had nothing to do with + the escape of the Dauphin.” + </p> + <p> + Heron growled out a few words of incredulity. But Chauvelin shrugged his + shoulders and looked with unutterable contempt on his colleague. Armand, + who was watching him closely, saw that in his hand he held a small piece + of paper, which he had crushed into a shapeless mass. + </p> + <p> + “Do not waste your time, citizen,” he said, “in raging against an empty + wind-bag. Arrest de Batz if you like, or leave him alone an you please—we + have nothing to fear from that braggart.” + </p> + <p> + With nervous, slightly shaking fingers he set to work to smooth out the + scrap of paper which he held. His hot hands had soiled it and pounded it + until it was a mere rag and the writing on it illegible. But, such as it + was, he threw it down with a blasphemous oath on the desk in front of + Heron’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is that accursed Englishman who has been at work again,” he said more + calmly; “I guessed it the moment I heard your story. Set your whole army + of sleuth-hounds on his track, citizen; you’ll need them all.” + </p> + <p> + Heron picked up the scrap of torn paper and tried to decipher the writing + on it by the light from the lamp. He seemed almost dazed now with the + awful catastrophe that had befallen him, and the fear that his own + wretched life would have to pay the penalty for the disappearance of the + child. + </p> + <p> + As for Armand—even in the midst of his own troubles, and of his own + anxiety for Jeanne, he felt a proud exultation in his heart. The Scarlet + Pimpernel had succeeded; Percy had not failed in his self-imposed + undertaking. Chauvelin, whose piercing eyes were fixed on him at that + moment, smiled with contemptuous irony. + </p> + <p> + “As you will find your hands overfull for the next few hours, citizen + Heron,” he said, speaking to his colleague and nodding in the direction of + Armand, “I’ll not trouble you with the voluntary confession this young + citizen desired to make to you. All I need tell you is that he is an + adherent of the Scarlet Pimpernel—I believe one of his most + faithful, most trusted officers.” + </p> + <p> + Heron roused himself from the maze of gloomy thoughts that were again + paralysing his tongue. He turned bleary, wild eyes on Armand. + </p> + <p> + “We have got one of them, then?” he murmured incoherently, babbling like a + drunken man. + </p> + <p> + “M’yes!” replied Chauvelin lightly; “but it is too late now for a formal + denunciation and arrest. He cannot leave Paris anyhow, and all that your + men need to do is to keep a close look-out on him. But I should send him + home to-night if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + Heron muttered something more, which, however, Armand did not understand. + Chauvelin’s words were still ringing in his ear. Was he, then, to be set + free to-night? Free in a measure, of course, since spies were to be set to + watch him—but free, nevertheless? He could not understand + Chauvelin’s attitude, and his own self-love was not a little wounded at + the thought that he was of such little account that these men could afford + to give him even this provisional freedom. And, of course, there was still + Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + “I must, therefore, bid you good-night, citizen,” Chauvelin was saying in + his bland, gently ironical manner. “You will be glad to return to your + lodgings. As you see, the chief agent of the Committee of General Security + is too much occupied just now to accept the sacrifice of your life which + you were prepared so generously to offer him.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, citizen,” retorted Armand coldly, “nor do I + desire indulgence at your hands. You have arrested an innocent woman on + the trumped-up charge that she was harbouring me. I came here to-night to + give myself up to justice so that she might be set free.” + </p> + <p> + “But the hour is somewhat late, citizen,” rejoined Chauvelin urbanely. + “The lady in whom you take so fervent an interest is no doubt asleep in + her cell at this hour. It would not be fitting to disturb her now. She + might not find shelter before morning, and the weather is quite + exceptionally unpropitious.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir,” said Armand, a little bewildered, “am I to understand that if + I hold myself at your disposition Mademoiselle Lange will be set free as + early to-morrow morning as may be?” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, sir—no doubt,” replied Chauvelin with more than his + accustomed blandness; “if you will hold yourself entirely at our + disposition, Mademoiselle Lange will be set free to-morrow. I think that + we can safely promise that, citizen Heron, can we not?” he added, turning + to his colleague. + </p> + <p> + But Heron, overcome with the stress of emotions, could only murmur vague, + unintelligible words. + </p> + <p> + “Your word on that, citizen Chauvelin?” asked Armand. + </p> + <p> + “My word on it an you will accept it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I will not do that. Give me an unconditional certificate of safety + and I will believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what use were that to you?” asked Chauvelin. + </p> + <p> + “I believe my capture to be of more importance to you than that of + Mademoiselle Lange,” said Armand quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I will use the certificate of safety for myself or one of my friends if + you break your word to me anent Mademoiselle Lange.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! the reasoning is not illogical, citizen,” said Chauvelin, whilst a + curious smile played round the corners of his thin lips. “You are quite + right. You are a more valuable asset to us than the charming lady who, I + hope, will for many a day and year to come delight pleasure-loving Paris + with her talent and her grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen to that, citizen,” said Armand fervently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it will all depend on you, sir! Here,” he added, coolly running + over some papers on Heron’s desk until he found what he wanted, “is an + absolutely unconditional certificate of safety. The Committee of General + Security issue very few of these. It is worth the cost of a human life. At + no barrier or gate of any city can such a certificate be disregarded, nor + even can it be detained. Allow me to hand it to you, citizen, as a pledge + of my own good faith.” + </p> + <p> + Smiling, urbane, with a curious look that almost expressed amusement + lurking in his shrewd, pale eyes, Chauvelin handed the momentous document + to Armand. + </p> + <p> + The young man studied it very carefully before he slipped it into the + inner pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “How soon shall I have news of Mademoiselle Lange?” he asked finally. + </p> + <p> + “In the course of to-morrow. I myself will call on you and redeem that + precious document in person. You, on the other hand, will hold yourself at + my disposition. That’s understood, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not fail you. My lodgings are—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do not trouble,” interposed Chauvelin, with a polite bow; “we can + find that out for ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + Heron had taken no part in this colloquy. Now that Armand prepared to go + he made no attempt to detain him, or to question his colleague’s actions. + He sat by the table like a log; his mind was obviously a blank to all else + save to his own terrors engendered by the events of this night. + </p> + <p> + With bleary, half-veiled eyes he followed Armand’s progress through the + room, and seemed unaware of the loud slamming of the outside door. + Chauvelin had escorted the young man past the first line of sentry, then + he took cordial leave of him. + </p> + <p> + “Your certificate will, you will find, open every gate to you. Good-night, + citizen. A demain.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Armand’s slim figure disappeared in the gloom. Chauvelin watched him for a + few moments until even his footsteps had died away in the distance; then + he turned back towards Heron’s lodgings. + </p> + <p> + “A nous deux,” he muttered between tightly clenched teeth; “a nous deux + once more, my enigmatical Scarlet Pimpernel.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. BACK TO PARIS + </h2> + <p> + It was an exceptionally dark night, and the rain was falling in torrents. + Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, wrapped in a piece of sacking, had taken shelter + right underneath the coal-cart; even then he was getting wet through to + the skin. + </p> + <p> + He had worked hard for two days coal-heaving, and the night before he had + found a cheap, squalid lodging where at any rate he was protected from the + inclemencies of the weather; but to-night he was expecting Blakeney at the + appointed hour and place. He had secured a cart of the ordinary ramshackle + pattern used for carrying coal. Unfortunately there were no covered ones + to be obtained in the neighbourhood, and equally unfortunately the thaw + had set in with a blustering wind and driving rain, which made waiting in + the open air for hours at a stretch and in complete darkness excessively + unpleasant. + </p> + <p> + But for all these discomforts Sir Andrew Ffoulkes cared not one jot. In + England, in his magnificent Suffolk home, he was a confirmed sybarite, in + whose service every description of comfort and luxury had to be enrolled. + Here tonight in the rough and tattered clothes of a coal-heaver, drenched + to the skin, and crouching under the body of a cart that hardly sheltered + him from the rain, he was as happy as a schoolboy out for a holiday. + </p> + <p> + Happy, but vaguely anxious. + </p> + <p> + He had no means of ascertaining the time. So many of the church-bells and + clock towers had been silenced recently that not one of those welcome + sounds penetrated to the dreary desolation of this canal wharf, with its + abandoned carts standing ghostlike in a row. Darkness had set in very + early in the afternoon, and the heavers had given up work soon after four + o’clock. + </p> + <p> + For about an hour after that a certain animation had still reigned round + the wharf, men crossing and going, one or two of the barges moving in or + out alongside the quay. But for some time now darkness and silence had + been the masters in this desolate spot, and that time had seemed to Sir + Andrew an eternity. He had hobbled and tethered his horse, and stretched + himself out at full length under the cart. Now and again he had crawled + out from under this uncomfortable shelter and walked up and down in + ankle-deep mud, trying to restore circulation in his stiffened limbs; now + and again a kind of torpor had come over him, and he had fallen into a + brief and restless sleep. He would at this moment have given half his + fortune for knowledge of the exact time. + </p> + <p> + But through all this weary waiting he was never for a moment in doubt. + Unlike Armand St. Just, he had the simplest, most perfect faith in his + chief. He had been Blakeney’s constant companion in all these adventures + for close upon four years now; the thought of failure, however vague, + never once entered his mind. + </p> + <p> + He was only anxious for his chief’s welfare. He knew that he would + succeed, but he would have liked to have spared him much of the physical + fatigue and the nerve-racking strain of these hours that lay between the + daring deed and the hope of safety. Therefore he was conscious of an acute + tingling of his nerves, which went on even during the brief patches of + fitful sleep, and through the numbness that invaded his whole body while + the hours dragged wearily and slowly along. + </p> + <p> + Then, quite suddenly, he felt wakeful and alert; quite a while—even + before he heard the welcome signal—he knew, with a curious, subtle + sense of magnetism, that the hour had come, and that his chief was + somewhere near by, not very far. + </p> + <p> + Then he heard the cry—a seamew’s call—repeated thrice at + intervals, and five minutes later something loomed out of the darkness + quite close to the hind wheels of the cart. + </p> + <p> + “Hist! Ffoulkes!” came in a soft whisper, scarce louder than the wind. + </p> + <p> + “Present!” came in quick response. + </p> + <p> + “Here, help me to lift the child into the cart. He is asleep, and has been + a dead weight on my arm for close on an hour now. Have you a dry bit of + sacking or something to lay him on?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very dry, I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + With tender care the two men lifted the sleeping little King of France + into the rickety cart. Blakeney laid his cloak over him, and listened for + awhile to the slow regular breathing of the child. + </p> + <p> + “St. Just is not here—you know that?” said Sir Andrew after a while. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I knew it,” replied Blakeney curtly. + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of these two men that not a word about the adventure + itself, about the terrible risks and dangers of the past few hours, was + exchanged between them. The child was here and was safe, and Blakeney knew + the whereabouts of St. Just—that was enough for Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, + the most devoted follower, the most perfect friend the Scarlet Pimpernel + would ever know. + </p> + <p> + Ffoulkes now went to the horse, detached the nose-bag, and undid the + nooses of the hobble and of the tether. + </p> + <p> + “Will you get in now, Blakeney?” he said; “we are ready.” + </p> + <p> + And in unbroken silence they both got into the cart; Blakeney sitting on + its floor beside the child, and Ffoulkes gathering the reins in his hands. + </p> + <p> + The wheels of the cart and the slow jog-trot of the horse made scarcely + any noise in the mud of the roads, what noise they did make was + effectually drowned by the soughing of the wind in the bare branches of + the stunted acacia trees that edged the towpath along the line of the + canal. + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew had studied the topography of this desolate neighbourhood well + during the past twenty-four hours; he knew of a detour that would enable + him to avoid the La Villette gate and the neighbourhood of the + fortifications, and yet bring him out soon on the road leading to St. + Germain. + </p> + <p> + Once he turned to ask Blakeney the time. + </p> + <p> + “It must be close on ten now,” replied Sir Percy. “Push your nag along, + old man. Tony and Hastings will be waiting for us.” + </p> + <p> + It was very difficult to see clearly even a metre or two ahead, but the + road was a straight one, and the old nag seemed to know it almost as well + and better than her driver. She shambled along at her own pace, covering + the ground very slowly for Ffoulkes’s burning impatience. Once or twice he + had to get down and lead her over a rough piece of ground. They passed + several groups of dismal, squalid houses, in some of which a dim light + still burned, and as they skirted St. Ouen the church clock slowly tolled + the hour of midnight. + </p> + <p> + But for the greater part of the way derelict, uncultivated spaces of + terrains vagues, and a few isolated houses lay between the road and the + fortifications of the city. The darkness of the night, the late hour, the + soughing of the wind, were all in favour of the adventurers; and a + coal-cart slowly trudging along in this neighbourhood, with two labourers + sitting in it, was the least likely of any vehicle to attract attention. + </p> + <p> + Past Clichy, they had to cross the river by the rickety wooden bridge that + was unsafe even in broad daylight. They were not far from their + destination now. Half a dozen kilometres further on they would be leaving + Courbevoie on their left, and then the sign-post would come in sight. + After that the spinney just off the road, and the welcome presence of + Tony, Hastings, and the horses. Ffoulkes got down in order to make sure of + the way. He walked at the horse’s head now, fearful lest he missed the + cross-roads and the sign-post. + </p> + <p> + The horse was getting over-tired; it had covered fifteen kilometres, and + it was close on three o’clock of Monday morning. + </p> + <p> + Another hour went by in absolute silence. Ffoulkes and Blakeney took turns + at the horse’s head. Then at last they reached the cross-roads; even + through the darkness the sign-post showed white against the surrounding + gloom. + </p> + <p> + “This looks like it,” murmured Sir Andrew. He turned the horse’s head + sharply towards the left, down a narrower road, and leaving the sign-post + behind him. He walked slowly along for another quarter of an hour, then + Blakeney called a halt. + </p> + <p> + “The spinney must be sharp on our right now,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He got down from the cart, and while Ffoulkes remained beside the horse, + he plunged into the gloom. A moment later the cry of the seamew rang out + three times into the air. It was answered almost immediately. + </p> + <p> + The spinney lay on the right of the road. Soon the soft sounds that to a + trained ear invariably betray the presence of a number of horses reached + Ffoulkes’ straining senses. He took his old nag out of the shafts, and the + shabby harness from off her, then he turned her out on the piece of waste + land that faced the spinney. Some one would find her in the morning, her + and the cart with the shabby harness laid in it, and, having wondered if + all these things had perchance dropped down from heaven, would quietly + appropriate them, and mayhap thank much-maligned heaven for its gift. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney in the meanwhile had lifted the sleeping child out of the cart. + Then he called to Sir Andrew and led the way across the road and into the + spinney. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later Hastings received the uncrowned King of France in his + arms. + </p> + <p> + Unlike Ffoulkes, my Lord Tony wanted to hear all about the adventure of + this afternoon. A thorough sportsman, he loved a good story of hairbreadth + escapes, of dangers cleverly avoided, risks taken and conquered. + </p> + <p> + “Just in ten words, Blakeney,” he urged entreatingly; “how did you + actually get the boy away?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Percy laughed—despite himself—at the young man’s + eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Next time we meet, Tony,” he begged; “I am so demmed fatigued, and + there’s this beastly rain—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no—now! while Hastings sees to the horses. I could not exist + long without knowing, and we are well sheltered from the rain under this + tree.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, since you will have it,” he began with a laugh, which despite + the weariness and anxiety of the past twenty-four hours had forced itself + to his lips, “I have been sweeper and man-of-all-work at the Temple for + the past few weeks, you must know—” + </p> + <p> + “No!” ejaculated my Lord Tony lustily. “By gum!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, you old sybarite, whilst you were enjoying yourself heaving coal + on the canal wharf, I was scrubbing floors, lighting fires, and doing a + number of odd jobs for a lot of demmed murdering villains, and”—he + added under his breath—“incidentally, too, for our league. Whenever + I had an hour or two off duty I spent them in my lodgings, and asked you + all to come and meet me there.” + </p> + <p> + “By Gad, Blakeney! Then the day before yesterday?—when we all met—” + </p> + <p> + “I had just had a bath—sorely needed, I can tell you. I had been + cleaning boots half the day, but I had heard that the Simons were removing + from the Temple on the Sunday, and had obtained an order from them to help + them shift their furniture.” + </p> + <p> + “Cleaning boots!” murmured my Lord Tony with a chuckle. “Well! and then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then everything worked out splendidly. You see by that time I was a + well-known figure in the Temple. Heron knew me well. I used to be his + lanthorn-bearer when at nights he visited that poor mite in his prison. It + was ‘Dupont, here! Dupont there!’ all day long. ‘Light the fire in the + office, Dupont! Dupont, brush my coat! Dupont, fetch me a light!’ When the + Simons wanted to move their household goods they called loudly for Dupont. + I got a covered laundry cart, and I brought a dummy with me to substitute + for the child. Simon himself knew nothing of this, but Madame was in my + pay. The dummy was just splendid, with real hair on its head; Madame + helped me to substitute it for the child; we laid it on the sofa and + covered it over with a rug, even while those brutes Heron and Cochefer + were on the landing outside, and we stuffed His Majesty the King of France + into a linen basket. The room was badly lighted, and any one would have + been deceived. No one was suspicious of that type of trickery, so it went + off splendidly. I moved the furniture of the Simons out of the Tower. His + Majesty King Louis XVII was still concealed in the linen basket. I drove + the Simons to their new lodgings—the man still suspects nothing—and + there I helped them to unload the furniture—with the exception of + the linen basket, of course. After that I drove my laundry cart to a house + I knew of and collected a number of linen baskets, which I had arranged + should be in readiness for me. Thus loaded up I left Paris by the + Vincennes gate, and drove as far as Bagnolet, where there is no road + except past the octroi, where the officials might have proved unpleasant. + So I lifted His Majesty out of the basket and we walked on hand in hand in + the darkness and the rain until the poor little feet gave out. Then the + little fellow—who has been wonderfully plucky throughout, indeed, + more a Capet than a Bourbon—snuggled up in my arms and went fast + asleep, and—and—well, I think that’s all, for here we are, you + see.” + </p> + <p> + “But if Madame Simon had not been amenable to bribery?” suggested Lord + Tony after a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + “Then I should have had to think of something else.” + </p> + <p> + “If during the removal of the furniture Heron had remained resolutely in + the room?” + </p> + <p> + “Then, again, I should have had to think of something else; but remember + that in life there is always one supreme moment when Chance—who is + credited to have but one hair on her head—stands by you for a brief + space of time; sometimes that space is infinitesimal—one minute, a + few seconds—just the time to seize Chance by that one hair. So I + pray you all give me no credit in this or any other matter in which we all + work together, but the quickness of seizing Chance by the hair during the + brief moment when she stands by my side. If Madame Simon had been + un-amenable, if Heron had remained in the room all the time, if Cochefer + had had two looks at the dummy instead of one—well, then, something + else would have helped me, something would have occurred; something—I + know not what—but surely something which Chance meant to be on our + side, if only we were quick enough to seize it—and so you see how + simple it all is.” + </p> + <p> + So simple, in fact, that it was sublime. The daring, the pluck, the + ingenuity and, above all, the super-human heroism and endurance which + rendered the hearers of this simple narrative, simply told, dumb with + admiration. + </p> + <p> + Their thoughts now were beyond verbal expression. + </p> + <p> + “How soon was the hue and cry for the child about the streets?” asked + Tony, after a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + “It was not out when I left the gates of Paris,” said Blakeney + meditatively; “so quietly has the news of the escape been kept, that I am + wondering what devilry that brute Heron can be after. And now no more + chattering,” he continued lightly; “all to horse, and you, Hastings, have + a care. The destinies of France, mayhap, will be lying asleep in your + arms.” + </p> + <p> + “But you, Blakeney?” exclaimed the three men almost simultaneously. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going with you. I entrust the child to you. For God’s sake guard + him well! Ride with him to Mantes. You should arrive there at about ten + o’clock. One of you then go straight to No.9 Rue la Tour. Ring the bell; + an old man will answer it. Say the one word to him, ‘Enfant’; he will + reply, ‘De roi!’ Give him the child, and may Heaven bless you all for the + help you have given me this night!” + </p> + <p> + “But you, Blakeney?” reiterated Tony with a note of deep anxiety in his + fresh young voice. + </p> + <p> + “I am straight for Paris,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore feasible.” + </p> + <p> + “But why? Percy, in the name of Heaven, do you realise what you are + doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “They’ll not leave a stone unturned to find you—they know by now, + believe me, that your hand did this trick.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you mean to go back?” + </p> + <p> + “And yet I am going back.” + </p> + <p> + “Blakeney!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no use, Tony. Armand is in Paris. I saw him in the corridor of the + Temple prison in the company of Chauvelin.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” exclaimed Lord Hastings. + </p> + <p> + The others were silent. What was the use of arguing? One of themselves was + in danger. Armand St. Just, the brother of Marguerite Blakeney! Was it + likely that Percy would leave him in the lurch. + </p> + <p> + “One of us will stay with you, of course?” asked Sir Andrew after awhile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! I want Hastings and Tony to take the child to Mantes, then to make + all possible haste for Calais, and there to keep in close touch with the + Day-Dream; the skipper will contrive to open communication. Tell him to + remain in Calais waters. I hope I may have need of him soon. + </p> + <p> + “And now to horse, both of you,” he added gaily. “Hastings, when you are + ready, I will hand up the child to you. He will be quite safe on the + pillion with a strap round him and you.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing more was said after that. The orders were given, there was nothing + to do but to obey; and the uncrowned King of France was not yet out of + danger. Hastings and Tony led two of the horses out of the spinney; at the + roadside they mounted, and then the little lad for whose sake so much + heroism, such selfless devotion had been expended, was hoisted up, still + half asleep, on the pillion in front of my Lord Hastings. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your arm round him,” admonished Blakeney; “your horse looks quiet + enough. But put on speed as far as Mantes, and may Heaven guard you both!” + </p> + <p> + The two men pressed their heels to their horses’ flanks, the beasts + snorted and pawed the ground anxious to start. There were a few whispered + farewells, two loyal hands were stretched out at the last, eager to grasp + the leader’s hand. + </p> + <p> + Then horses and riders disappeared in the utter darkness which comes + before the dawn. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney and Ffoulkes stood side by side in silence for as long as the + pawing of hoofs in the mud could reach their ears, then Ffoulkes asked + abruptly: + </p> + <p> + “What do you want me to do, Blakeney?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for the present, my dear fellow, I want you to take one of the + three horses we have left in the spinney, and put him into the shafts of + our old friend the coal-cart; then I am afraid that you must go back the + way we came.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Continue to heave coal on the canal wharf by La Villette; it is the best + way to avoid attention. After your day’s work keep your cart and horse in + readiness against my arrival, at the same spot where you were last night. + If after having waited for me like this for three consecutive nights you + neither see nor hear anything from me, go back to England and tell + Marguerite that in giving my life for her brother I gave it for her!” + </p> + <p> + “Blakeney—!” + </p> + <p> + “I spoke differently to what I usually do, is that it?” he interposed, + placing his firm hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I am degenerating, + Ffoulkes—that’s what it is. Pay no heed to it. I suppose that + carrying that sleeping child in my arms last night softened some nerves in + my body. I was so infinitely sorry for the poor mite, and vaguely wondered + if I had not saved it from one misery only to plunge it in another. There + was such a fateful look on that wan little face, as if destiny had already + writ its veto there against happiness. It came on me then how futile were + our actions, if God chooses to interpose His will between us and our + desires.” + </p> + <p> + Almost as he left off speaking the rain ceased to patter down against the + puddles in the road. Overhead the clouds flew by at terrific speed, driven + along by the blustering wind. It was less dark now, and Sir Andrew, + peering through the gloom, could see his leader’s face. It was singularly + pale and hard, and the deep-set lazy eyes had in them just that fateful + look which he himself had spoken of just now. + </p> + <p> + “You are anxious about Armand, Percy?” asked Ffoulkes softly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He should have trusted me, as I had trusted him. He missed me at the + Villette gate on Friday, and without a thought left me—left us all + in the lurch; he threw himself into the lion’s jaws, thinking that he + could help the girl he loved. I knew that I could save her. She is in + comparative safety even now. The old woman, Madame Belhomme, had been + freely released the day after her arrest, but Jeanne Lange is still in the + house in the Rue de Charonne. You know it, Ffoulkes. I got her there early + this morning. It was easy for me, of course: ‘Hola, Dupont! my boots, + Dupont!’ ‘One moment, citizen, my daughter—’ ‘Curse thy daughter, + bring me my boots!’ and Jeanne Lange walked out of the Temple prison her + hand in that of that lout Dupont.” + </p> + <p> + “But Armand does not know that she is in the Rue de Charonne?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I have not seen him since that early morning on Saturday when he came + to tell me that she had been arrested. Having sworn that he would obey me, + he went to meet you and Tony at La Villette, but returned to Paris a few + hours later, and drew the undivided attention of all the committees on + Jeanne Lange by his senseless, foolish inquiries. But for his action + throughout the whole of yesterday I could have smuggled Jeanne out of + Paris, got her to join you at Villette, or Hastings in St. Germain. But + the barriers were being closely watched for her, and I had the Dauphin to + think of. She is in comparative safety; the people in the Rue de Charonne + are friendly for the moment; but for how long? Who knows? I must look + after her of course. And Armand! Poor old Armand! The lion’s jaws have + snapped over him, and they hold him tight. Chauvelin and his gang are + using him as a decoy to trap me, of course. All that had not happened if + Armand had trusted me.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed a quick sigh of impatience, almost of regret. Ffoulkes was the + one man who could guess the bitter disappointment that this had meant. + Percy had longed to be back in England soon, back to Marguerite, to a few + days of unalloyed happiness and a few days of peace. + </p> + <p> + Now Armand’s actions had retarded all that; they were a deliberate bar to + the future as it had been mapped out by a man who foresaw everything, who + was prepared for every eventuality. + </p> + <p> + In this case, too, he had been prepared, but not for the want of trust + which had brought on disobedience akin to disloyalty. That absolutely + unforeseen eventuality had changed Blakeney’s usual irresponsible gaiety + into a consciousness of the inevitable, of the inexorable decrees of Fate. + </p> + <p> + With an anxious sigh, Sir Andrew turned away from his chief and went back + to the spinney to select for his own purpose one of the three horses which + Hastings and Tony had unavoidably left behind. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Blakeney—how will you go back to that awful Paris?” he + said, when he had made his choice and was once more back beside Percy. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know yet,” replied Blakeney, “but it would not be safe to ride. + I’ll reach one of the gates on this side of the city and contrive to slip + in somehow. I have a certificate of safety in my pocket in case I need it. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll leave the horses here,” he said presently, whilst he was helping + Sir Andrew to put the horse in the shafts of the coal-cart; “they cannot + come to much harm. Some poor devil might steal them, in order to escape + from those vile brutes in the city. If so, God speed him, say I. I’ll + compensate my friend the farmer of St. Germain for their loss at an early + opportunity. And now, good-bye, my dear fellow! Some time to-night, if + possible, you shall hear direct news of me—if not, then to-morrow or + the day after that. Good-bye, and Heaven guard you!” + </p> + <p> + “God guard you, Blakeney!” said Sir Andrew fervently. + </p> + <p> + He jumped into the cart and gathered up the reins. His heart was heavy as + lead, and a strange mist had gathered in his eyes, blurring the last dim + vision which he had of his chief standing all alone in the gloom, his + broad, magnificent figure looking almost weirdly erect and defiant, his + head thrown back, and his kind, lazy eyes watching the final departure of + his most faithful comrade and friend. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. OF THAT THERE COULD BE NO QUESTION + </h2> + <p> + Blakeney had more than one pied-a-terre in Paris, and never stayed longer + than two or three days in any of these. It was not difficult for a single + man, be he labourer or bourgeois, to obtain a night’s lodging, even in + these most troublous times, and in any quarter of Paris, provided the rent—out + of all proportion to the comfort and accommodation given—was paid + ungrudgingly and in advance. + </p> + <p> + Emigration and, above all, the enormous death-roll of the past eighteen + months, had emptied the apartment houses of the great city, and those who + had rooms to let were only too glad of a lodger, always providing they + were not in danger of being worried by the committees of their section. + </p> + <p> + The laws framed by these same committees now demanded that all keepers of + lodging or apartment houses should within twenty-four hours give notice at + the bureau of their individual sections of the advent of new lodgers, + together with a description of the personal appearance of such lodgers, + and an indication of their presumed civil status and occupation. But there + was a margin of twenty-four hours, which could on pressure be extended to + forty-eight, and, therefore, any one could obtain shelter for forty-eight + hours, and have no questions asked, provided he or she was willing to pay + the exorbitant sum usually asked under the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Thus Blakeney had no difficulty in securing what lodgings he wanted when + he once more found himself inside Paris at somewhere about noon of that + same Monday. + </p> + <p> + The thought of Hastings and Tony speeding on towards Mantes with the royal + child safely held in Hastings’ arms had kept his spirits buoyant and + caused him for a while to forget the terrible peril in which Armand St. + Just’s thoughtless egoism had placed them both. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney was a man of abnormal physique and iron nerve, else he could + never have endured the fatigues of the past twenty-four hours, from the + moment when on the Sunday afternoon he began to play his part of + furniture-remover at the Temple, to that when at last on Monday at noon he + succeeded in persuading the sergeant at the Maillot gate that he was an + honest stonemason residing at Neuilly, who was come to Paris in search of + work. + </p> + <p> + After that matters became more simple. Terribly foot-sore, though he would + never have admitted it, hungry and weary, he turned into an unpretentious + eating-house and ordered some dinner. The place when he entered was + occupied mostly by labourers and workmen, dressed very much as he was + himself, and quite as grimy as he had become after having driven about for + hours in a laundry-cart and in a coal-cart, and having walked twelve + kilometres, some of which he had covered whilst carrying a sleeping child + in his arms. + </p> + <p> + Thus, Sir Percy Blakeney, Bart., the friend and companion of the Prince of + Wales, the most fastidious fop the salons of London and Bath had ever + seen, was in no way distinguishable outwardly from the tattered, + half-starved, dirty, and out-at-elbows products of this fraternising and + equalising Republic. + </p> + <p> + He was so hungry that the ill-cooked, badly-served meal tempted him to + eat; and he ate on in silence, seemingly more interested in boiled beef + than in the conversation that went on around him. But he would not have + been the keen and daring adventurer that he was if he did not all the + while keep his ears open for any fragment of news that the desultory talk + of his fellow-diners was likely to yield to him. + </p> + <p> + Politics were, of course, discussed; the tyranny of the sections, the + slavery that this free Republic had brought on its citizens. The names of + the chief personages of the day were all mentioned in turns + Focquier-Tinville, Santerre, Danton, Robespierre. Heron and his + sleuth-hounds were spoken of with execrations quickly suppressed, but of + little Capet not one word. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney could not help but infer that Chauvelin, Heron and the + commissaries in charge were keeping the escape of the child a secret for + as long as they could. + </p> + <p> + He could hear nothing of Armand’s fate, of course. The arrest—if + arrest there had been—was not like to be bruited abroad just now. + Blakeney having last seen Armand in Chauvelin’s company, whilst he himself + was moving the Simons’ furniture, could not for a moment doubt that the + young man was imprisoned,—unless, indeed, he was being allowed a + certain measure of freedom, whilst his every step was being spied on, so + that he might act as a decoy for his chief. + </p> + <p> + At thought of that all weariness seemed to vanish from Blakeney’s powerful + frame. He set his lips firmly together, and once again the light of + irresponsible gaiety danced in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + He had been in as tight a corner as this before now; at Boulogne his + beautiful Marguerite had been used as a decoy, and twenty-four hours later + he had held her in his arms on board his yacht the Day-Dream. As he would + have put it in his own forcible language: + </p> + <p> + “Those d—d murderers have not got me yet.” + </p> + <p> + The battle mayhap would this time be against greater odds than before, but + Blakeney had no fear that they would prove overwhelming. + </p> + <p> + There was in life but one odd that was overwhelming, and that was + treachery. + </p> + <p> + But of that there could be no question. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon Blakeney started off in search of lodgings for the night. + He found what would suit him in the Rue de l’Arcade, which was equally far + from the House of Justice as it was from his former lodgings. Here he + would be safe for at least twenty-four hours, after which he might have to + shift again. But for the moment the landlord of the miserable apartment + was over-willing to make no fuss and ask no questions, for the sake of the + money which this aristo in disguise dispensed with a lavish hand. + </p> + <p> + Having taken possession of his new quarters and snatched a few hours of + sound, well-deserved rest, until the time when the shades of evening and + the darkness of the streets would make progress through the city somewhat + more safe, Blakeney sallied forth at about six o’clock having a threefold + object in view. + </p> + <p> + Primarily, of course, the threefold object was concentrated on Armand. + There was the possibility of finding out at the young man’s lodgings in + Montmartre what had become of him; then there were the usual inquiries + that could be made from the registers of the various prisons; and, + thirdly, there was the chance that Armand had succeeded in sending some + kind of message to Blakeney’s former lodgings in the Rue St. Germain + l’Auxerrois. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, Sir Percy decided to leave the prison registers alone for + the present. If Armand had been actually arrested, he would almost + certainly be confined in the Chatelet prison, where he would be closer to + hand for all the interrogatories to which, no doubt, he would be + subjected. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney set his teeth and murmured a good, sound, British oath when he + thought of those interrogatories. Armand St. Just, highly strung, a + dreamer and a bundle of nerves—how he would suffer under the mental + rack of questions and cross-questions, cleverly-laid traps to catch + information from him unawares! + </p> + <p> + His next objective, then, was Armand’s former lodging, and from six + o’clock until close upon eight Sir Percy haunted the slopes of Montmartre, + and more especially the neighbourhood of the Rue de la Croix Blanche, + where Armand had lodged these former days. At the house itself he could + not inquire as yet; obviously it would not have been safe; tomorrow, + perhaps, when he knew more, but not tonight. His keen eyes had already + spied at least two figures clothed in the rags of out-of-work labourers + like himself, who had hung with suspicious persistence in this same + neighbourhood, and who during the two hours that he had been in + observation had never strayed out of sight of the house in the Rue de la + Croix Blanche. + </p> + <p> + That these were two spies on the watch was, of course, obvious; but + whether they were on the watch for St. Just or for some other unfortunate + wretch it was at this stage impossible to conjecture. + </p> + <p> + Then, as from the Tour des Dames close by the clock solemnly struck the + hour of eight, and Blakeney prepared to wend his way back to another part + of the city, he suddenly saw Armand walking slowly up the street. + </p> + <p> + The young man did not look either to right or left; he held his head + forward on his chest, and his hands were hidden underneath his cloak. When + he passed immediately under one of the street lamps Blakeney caught sight + of his face; it was pale and drawn. Then he turned his head, and for the + space of two seconds his eyes across the narrow street encountered those + of his chief. He had the presence of mind not to make a sign or to utter a + sound; he was obviously being followed, but in that brief moment Sir Percy + had seen in the young man’s eyes a look that reminded him of a hunted + creature. + </p> + <p> + “What have those brutes been up to with him, I wonder?” he muttered + between clenched teeth. + </p> + <p> + Armand soon disappeared under the doorway of the same house where he had + been lodging all along. Even as he did so Blakeney saw the two spies + gather together like a pair of slimy lizards, and whisper excitedly one to + another. A third man, who obviously had been dogging Armand’s footsteps, + came up and joined them after a while. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney could have sworn loudly and lustily, had it been possible to do + so without attracting attention. The whole of Armand’s history in the past + twenty-four hours was perfectly clear to him. The young man had been made + free that he might prove a decoy for more important game. + </p> + <p> + His every step was being watched, and he still thought Jeanne Lange in + immediate danger of death. The look of despair in his face proclaimed + these two facts, and Blakeney’s heart ached for the mental torture which + his friend was enduring. He longed to let Armand know that the woman he + loved was in comparative safety. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne Lange first, and then Armand himself; and the odds would be very + heavy against the Scarlet Pimpernel! But that Marguerite should not have + to mourn an only brother, of that Sir Percy made oath. + </p> + <p> + He now turned his steps towards his own former lodgings by St. Germain + l’Auxerrois. It was just possible that Armand had succeeded in leaving a + message there for him. It was, of course, equally possible that when he + did so Heron’s men had watched his movements, and that spies would be + stationed there, too, on the watch. + </p> + <p> + But that risk must, of course, be run. Blakeney’s former lodging was the + one place that Armand would know of to which he could send a message to + his chief, if he wanted to do so. Of course, the unfortunate young man + could not have known until just now that Percy would come back to Paris, + but he might guess it, or wish it, or only vaguely hope for it; he might + want to send a message, he might long to communicate with his + brother-in-law, and, perhaps, feel sure that the latter would not leave + him in the lurch. + </p> + <p> + With that thought in his mind, Sir Percy was not likely to give up the + attempt to ascertain for himself whether Armand had tried to communicate + with him or not. As for spies—well, he had dodged some of them often + enough in his time—the risks that he ran to-night were no worse than + the ones to which he had so successfully run counter in the Temple + yesterday. + </p> + <p> + Still keeping up the slouchy gait peculiar to the out-at-elbows working + man of the day, hugging the houses as he walked along the streets, + Blakeney made slow progress across the city. But at last he reached the + facade of St. Germain l’Auxerrois, and turning sharply to his right he + soon came in sight of the house which he had only quitted twenty-four + hours ago. + </p> + <p> + We all know that house—all of us who are familiar with the Paris of + those terrible days. It stands quite detached—a vast quadrangle, + facing the Quai de l’Ecole and the river, backing on the Rue St. Germain + l’Auxerrois, and shouldering the Carrefour des Trois Manes. The + porte-cochere, so-called, is but a narrow doorway, and is actually + situated in the Rue St. Germain l’Auxerrois. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney made his way cautiously right round the house; he peered up and + down the quay, and his keen eyes tried to pierce the dense gloom that hung + at the corners of the Pont Neuf immediately opposite. Soon he assured + himself that for the present, at any rate, the house was not being + watched. + </p> + <p> + Armand presumably had not yet left a message for him here; but he might do + so at any time now that he knew that his chief was in Paris and on the + look-out for him. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney made up his mind to keep this house in sight. This art of + watching he had acquired to a masterly extent, and could have taught + Heron’s watch-dogs a remarkable lesson in it. At night, of course, it was + a comparatively easy task. There were a good many unlighted doorways along + the quay, whilst a street lamp was fixed on a bracket in the wall of the + very house which he kept in observation. + </p> + <p> + Finding temporary shelter under various doorways, or against the dank + walls of the houses, Blakeney set himself resolutely to a few hours’ weary + waiting. A thin, drizzly rain fell with unpleasant persistence, like a + damp mist, and the thin blouse which he wore soon became wet through and + clung hard and chilly to his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + It was close on midnight when at last he thought it best to give up his + watch and to go back to his lodgings for a few hours’ sleep; but at seven + o’clock the next morning he was back again at his post. + </p> + <p> + The porte-cochere of his former lodging-house was not yet open; he took up + his stand close beside it. His woollen cap pulled well over his forehead, + the grime cleverly plastered on his hair and face, his lower jaw thrust + forward, his eyes looking lifeless and bleary, all gave him an expression + of sly villainy, whilst the short clay pipe struck at a sharp angle in his + mouth, his hands thrust into the pockets of his ragged breeches, and his + bare feet in the mud of the road, gave the final touch to his + representation of an out-of-work, ill-conditioned, and supremely + discontented loafer. + </p> + <p> + He had not very long to wait. Soon the porte-cochere of the house was + opened, and the concierge came out with his broom, making a show of + cleaning the pavement in front of the door. Five minutes later a lad, + whose clothes consisted entirely of rags, and whose feet and head were + bare, came rapidly up the street from the quay, and walked along looking + at the houses as he went, as if trying to decipher their number. The cold + grey dawn was just breaking, dreary and damp, as all the past days had + been. Blakeney watched the lad as he approached, the small, naked feet + falling noiselessly on the cobblestones of the road. When the boy was + quite close to him and to the house, Blakeney shifted his position and + took the pipe out of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Up early, my son!” he said gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the pale-faced little creature; “I have a message to deliver + at No. 9 Rue St. Germain l’Auxerrois. It must be somewhere near here.” + </p> + <p> + “It is. You can give me the message.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, citizen!” said the lad, into whose pale, circled eyes a look of + terror had quickly appeared. “It is for one of the lodgers in No. 9. I + must give it to him.” + </p> + <p> + With an instinct which he somehow felt could not err at this moment, + Blakeney knew that the message was one from Armand to himself; a written + message, too, since—instinctively when he spoke—the boy + clutched at his thin shirt, as if trying to guard something precious that + had been entrusted to him. + </p> + <p> + “I will deliver the message myself, sonny,” said Blakeney gruffly. “I know + the citizen for whom it is intended. He would not like the concierge to + see it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I would not give it to the concierge,” said the boy. “I would take it + upstairs myself.” + </p> + <p> + “My son,” retorted Blakeney, “let me tell you this. You are going to give + that message up to me and I will put five whole livres into your hand.” + </p> + <p> + Blakeney, with all his sympathy aroused for this poor pale-faced lad, put + on the airs of a ruffianly bully. He did not wish that message to be taken + indoors by the lad, for the concierge might get hold of it, despite the + boy’s protests and tears, and after that Blakeney would perforce have to + disclose himself before it would be given up to him. During the past week + the concierge had been very amenable to bribery. Whatever suspicions he + had had about his lodger he had kept to himself for the sake of the money + which he received; but it was impossible to gauge any man’s trend of + thought these days from one hour to the next. Something—for aught + Blakeney knew—might have occurred in the past twenty-four hours to + change an amiable and accommodating lodging-house keeper into a surly or + dangerous spy. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, the concierge had once more gone within; there was no one + abroad, and if there were, no one probably would take any notice of a + burly ruffian brow-beating a child. + </p> + <p> + “Allons!” he said gruffly, “give me the letter, or that five livres goes + back into my pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “Five livres!” exclaimed the child with pathetic eagerness. “Oh, citizen!” + </p> + <p> + The thin little hand fumbled under the rags, but it reappeared again + empty, whilst a faint blush spread over the hollow cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “The other citizen also gave me five livres,” he said humbly. “He lodges + in the house where my mother is concierge. It is in the Rue de la Croix + Blanche. He has been very kind to my mother. I would rather do as he bade + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless the lad,” murmured Blakeney under his breath; “his loyalty redeems + many a crime of this God-forsaken city. Now I suppose I shall have to + bully him, after all.” + </p> + <p> + He took his hand out of his breeches pocket; between two very dirty + fingers he held a piece of gold. The other hand he placed quite roughly on + the lad’s chest. + </p> + <p> + “Give me the letter,” he said harshly, “or—” + </p> + <p> + He pulled at the ragged blouse, and a scrap of soiled paper soon fell into + his hand. The lad began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said Blakeney, thrusting the piece of gold into the thin small + palm, “take this home to your mother, and tell your lodger that a big, + rough man took the letter away from you by force. Now run, before I kick + you out of the way.” + </p> + <p> + The lad, terrified out of his poor wits, did not wait for further + commands; he took to his heels and ran, his small hand clutching the piece + of gold. Soon he had disappeared round the corner of the street. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney did not at once read the paper; he thrust it quickly into his + breeches pocket and slouched away slowly down the street, and thence + across the Place du Carrousel, in the direction of his new lodgings in the + Rue de l’Arcade. + </p> + <p> + It was only when he found himself alone in the narrow, squalid room which + he was occupying that he took the scrap of paper from his pocket and read + it slowly through. It said: + </p> + <p> + Percy, you cannot forgive me, nor can I ever forgive myself, but if you + only knew what I have suffered for the past two days you would, I think, + try and forgive. I am free and yet a prisoner; my every footstep is + dogged. What they ultimately mean to do with me I do not know. And when I + think of Jeanne I long for the power to end mine own miserable existence. + Percy! she is still in the hands of those fiends.... I saw the prison + register; her name written there has been like a burning brand on my heart + ever since. She was still in prison the day that you left Paris; + to-morrow, to-night mayhap, they will try her, condemn her, torture her, + and I dare not go to see you, for I would only be bringing spies to your + door. But will you come to me, Percy? It should be safe in the hours of + the night, and the concierge is devoted to me. To-night at ten o’clock she + will leave the porte-cochere unlatched. If you find it so, and if on the + ledge of the window immediately on your left as you enter you find a + candle alight, and beside it a scrap of paper with your initials S. P. + traced on it, then it will be quite safe for you to come up to my room. It + is on the second landing—a door on your right—that too I will + leave on the latch. But in the name of the woman you love best in all the + world come at once to me then, and bear in mind, Percy, that the woman I + love is threatened with immediate death, and that I am powerless to save + her. Indeed, believe me, I would gladly die even now but for the thought + of Jeanne, whom I should be leaving in the hands of those fiends. For + God’s sake, Percy, remember that Jeanne is all the world to me. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old Armand,” murmured Blakeney with a kindly smile directed at the + absent friend, “he won’t trust me even now. He won’t trust his Jeanne in + my hands. Well,” he added after a while, “after all, I would not entrust + Marguerite to anybody else either.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE OVERWHELMING ODDS + </h2> + <p> + At half-past ten that same evening, Blakeney, still clad in a workman’s + tattered clothes, his feet bare so that he could tread the streets + unheard, turned into the Rue de la Croix Blanche. + </p> + <p> + The porte-cochere of the house where Armand lodged had been left on the + latch; not a soul was in sight. Peering cautiously round, he slipped into + the house. On the ledge of the window, immediately on his left when he + entered, a candle was left burning, and beside it there was a scrap of + paper with the initials S. P. roughly traced in pencil. No one challenged + him as he noiselessly glided past it, and up the narrow stairs that led to + the upper floor. Here, too, on the second landing the door on the right + had been left on the latch. He pushed it open and entered. + </p> + <p> + As is usual even in the meanest lodgings in Paris houses, a small + antechamber gave between the front door and the main room. When Percy + entered the antechamber was unlighted, but the door into the inner room + beyond was ajar. Blakeney approached it with noiseless tread, and gently + pushed it open. + </p> + <p> + That very instant he knew that the game was up; he heard the footsteps + closing up behind him, saw Armand, deathly pale, leaning against the wall + in the room in front of him, and Chauvelin and Heron standing guard over + him. + </p> + <p> + The next moment the room and the antechamber were literally alive with + soldiers—twenty of them to arrest one man. + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of that man that when hands were laid on him from + every side he threw back his head and laughed—laughed mirthfully, + light-heartedly, and the first words that escaped his lips were: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am d—d!” + </p> + <p> + “The odds are against you, Sir Percy,” said Chauvelin to him in English, + whilst Heron at the further end of the room was growling like a contented + beast. + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord, sir,” said Percy with perfect sang-froid, “I do believe that + for the moment they are.” + </p> + <p> + “Have done, my men—have done!” he added, turning good-humouredly to + the soldiers round him. “I never fight against overwhelming odds. Twenty + to one, eh? I could lay four of you out easily enough, perhaps even six, + but what then?” + </p> + <p> + But a kind of savage lust seemed to have rendered these men temporarily + mad, and they were being egged on by Heron. The mysterious Englishman, + about whom so many eerie tales were told! Well, he had supernatural + powers, and twenty to one might be nothing to him if the devil was on his + side. Therefore a blow on his forearm with the butt-end of a bayonet was + useful for disabling his right hand, and soon the left arm with a + dislocated shoulder hung limp by his side. Then he was bound with cords. + </p> + <p> + The vein of luck had given out. The gambler had staked more than usual and + had lost; but he knew how to lose, just as he had always known how to win. + </p> + <p> + “Those d—d brutes are trussing me like a fowl,” he murmured with + irrepressible gaiety at the last. + </p> + <p> + Then the wrench on his bruised arms as they were pulled roughly back by + the cords caused the veil of unconsciousness to gather over his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And Jeanne was safe, Armand,” he shouted with a last desperate effort; + “those devils have lied to you and tricked you into this ... Since + yesterday she is out of prison... in the house... you know....” + </p> + <p> + After that he lost consciousness. + </p> + <p> + And this occurred on Tuesday, January 21st, in the year 1794, or, in + accordance with the new calendar, on the 2nd Pluviose, year II of the + Republic. + </p> + <p> + It is chronicled in the Moniteur of the 3rd Pluviose that, “on the + previous evening, at half-past ten of the clock, the Englishman known as + the Scarlet Pimpernel, who for three years has conspired against the + safety of the Republic, was arrested through the patriotic exertions of + citizen Chauvelin, and conveyed to the Conciergerie, where he now lies—sick, + but closely guarded. Long live the Republic!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + PART II. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. THE NEWS + </h2> + <p> + The grey January day was falling, drowsy, and dull into the arms of night. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite, sitting in the dusk beside the fire in her small boudoir, + shivered a little as she drew her scarf closer round her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Edwards, the butler, entered with the lamp. The room looked peculiarly + cheery now, with the delicate white panelling of the wall glowing under + the soft kiss of the flickering firelight and the steadier glow of the + rose-shaded lamp. + </p> + <p> + “Has the courier not arrived yet, Edwards?” asked Marguerite, fixing the + impassive face of the well-drilled servant with her large purple-rimmed + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, m’lady,” he replied placidly. + </p> + <p> + “It is his day, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, m’lady. And the forenoon is his time. But there have been heavy + rains, and the roads must be rare muddy. He must have been delayed, + m’lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose so,” she said listlessly. “That will do, Edwards. No, + don’t close the shutters. I’ll ring presently.” + </p> + <p> + The man went out of the room as automatically as he had come. He closed + the door behind him, and Marguerite was once more alone. + </p> + <p> + She picked up the book which she had fingered idly before the light gave + out. She tried once more to fix her attention on this tale of love and + adventure written by Mr. Fielding; but she had lost the thread of the + story, and there was a mist between her eyes and the printed pages. + </p> + <p> + With an impatient gesture she threw down the book and passed her hand + across her eyes, then seemed astonished to find that her hand was wet. + </p> + <p> + She rose and went to the window. The air outside had been singularly mild + all day; the thaw was persisting, and a south wind came across the Channel—from + France. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite threw open the casement and sat down on the wide sill, leaning + her head against the window-frame, and gazing out into the fast gathering + gloom. From far away, at the foot of the gently sloping lawns, the river + murmured softly in the night; in the borders to the right and left a few + snowdrops still showed like tiny white specks through the surrounding + darkness. Winter had begun the process of slowly shedding its mantle, + coquetting with Spring, who still lingered in the land of Infinity. + Gradually the shadows drew closer and closer; the reeds and rushes on the + river bank were the first to sink into their embrace, then the big cedars + on the lawn, majestic and defiant, but yielding still unconquered to the + power of night. + </p> + <p> + The tiny stars of snowdrop blossoms vanished one by one, and at last the + cool, grey ribbon of the river surface was wrapped under the mantle of + evening. + </p> + <p> + Only the south wind lingered on, soughing gently in the drowsy reeds, + whispering among the branches of the cedars, and gently stirring the + tender corollas of the sleeping snowdrops. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite seemed to open out her lungs to its breath. It had come all the + way from France, and on its wings had brought something of Percy—a + murmur as if he had spoken—a memory that was as intangible as a + dream. + </p> + <p> + She shivered again, though of a truth it was not cold. The courier’s delay + had completely unsettled her nerves. Twice a week he came especially from + Dover, and always he brought some message, some token which Percy had + contrived to send from Paris. They were like tiny scraps of dry bread + thrown to a starving woman, but they did just help to keep her heart alive—that + poor, aching, disappointed heart that so longed for enduring happiness + which it could never get. + </p> + <p> + The man whom she loved with all her soul, her mind and her body, did not + belong to her; he belonged to suffering humanity over there in + terror-stricken France, where the cries of the innocent, the persecuted, + the wretched called louder to him than she in her love could do. + </p> + <p> + He had been away three months now, during which time her starving heart + had fed on its memories, and the happiness of a brief visit from him six + weeks ago, when—quite unexpectedly—he had appeared before + her... home between two desperate adventures that had given life and + freedom to a number of innocent people, and nearly cost him his—and + she had lain in his arms in a swoon of perfect happiness. + </p> + <p> + But he had gone away again as suddenly as he had come, and for six weeks + now she had lived partly in anticipation of the courier with messages from + him, and partly on the fitful joy engendered by these messages. To-day she + had not even that, and the disappointment seemed just now more than she + could bear. + </p> + <p> + She felt unaccountably restless, and could she but have analysed her + feelings—had she dared so to do—she would have realised that + the weight which oppressed her heart so that she could hardly breathe, was + one of vague yet dark foreboding. + </p> + <p> + She closed the window and returned to her seat by the fire, taking up her + hook with the strong resolution not to allow her nerves to get the better + of her. But it was difficult to pin one’s attention down to the adventures + of Master Tom Jones when one’s mind was fully engrossed with those of Sir + Percy Blakeney. + </p> + <p> + The sound of carriage wheels on the gravelled forecourt in the front of + the house suddenly awakened her drowsy senses. She threw down the book, + and with trembling hands clutched the arms of her chair, straining her + ears to listen. A carriage at this hour—and on this damp winter’s + evening! She racked her mind wondering who it could be. + </p> + <p> + Lady Ffoulkes was in London, she knew. Sir Andrew, of course, was in + Paris. His Royal Highness, ever a faithful visitor, would surely not + venture out to Richmond in this inclement weather—and the courier + always came on horseback. + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur of voices; that of Edwards, mechanical and placid, + could be heard quite distinctly saying: + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure that her ladyship will be at home for you, m’lady. But I’ll go + and ascertain.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite ran to the door and with joyful eagerness tore it open. + </p> + <p> + “Suzanne!” she called “my little Suzanne! I thought you were in London. + Come up quickly! In the boudoir—yes. Oh! what good fortune hath + brought you?” + </p> + <p> + Suzanne flew into her arms, holding the friend whom she loved so well + close and closer to her heart, trying to hide her face, which was wet with + tears, in the folds of Marguerite’s kerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Come inside, my darling,” said Marguerite. “Why, how cold your little + hands are!” + </p> + <p> + She was on the point of turning back to her boudoir, drawing Lady Ffoulkes + by the hand, when suddenly she caught sight of Sir Andrew, who stood at a + little distance from her, at the top of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Andrew!” she exclaimed with unstinted gladness. + </p> + <p> + Then she paused. The cry of welcome died on her lips, leaving them dry and + parted. She suddenly felt as if some fearful talons had gripped her heart + and were tearing at it with sharp, long nails; the blood flew from her + cheeks and from her limbs, leaving her with a sense of icy numbness. + </p> + <p> + She backed into the room, still holding Suzanne’s hand, and drawing her in + with her. Sir Andrew followed them, then closed the door behind him. At + last the word escaped Marguerite’s parched lips: + </p> + <p> + “Percy! Something has happened to him! He is dead?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” exclaimed Sir Andrew quickly. + </p> + <p> + Suzanne put her loving arms round her friend and drew her down into the + chair by the fire. She knelt at her feet on the hearthrug, and pressed her + own burning lips on Marguerite’s icy-cold hands. Sir Andrew stood silently + by, a world of loving friendship, of heart-broken sorrow, in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + There was silence in the pretty white-panelled room for a while. + Marguerite sat with her eyes closed, bringing the whole armoury of her + will power to bear her up outwardly now. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me!” she said at last, and her voice was toneless and dull, like one + that came from the depths of a grave—“tell me—exactly—everything. + Don’t be afraid. I can bear it. Don’t be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew remained standing, with bowed head and one hand resting on the + table. In a firm, clear voice he told her the events of the past few days + as they were known to him. All that he tried to hide was Armand’s + disobedience, which, in his heart, he felt was the primary cause of the + catastrophe. He told of the rescue of the Dauphin from the Temple, the + midnight drive in the coal-cart, the meeting with Hastings and Tony in the + spinney. He only gave vague explanations of Armand’s stay in Paris which + caused Percy to go back to the city, even at the moment when his most + daring plan had been so successfully carried through. + </p> + <p> + “Armand, I understand, has fallen in love with a beautiful woman in Paris, + Lady Blakeney,” he said, seeing that a strange, puzzled look had appeared + in Marguerite’s pale face. “She was arrested the day before the rescue of + the Dauphin from the Temple. Armand could not join us. He felt that he + could not leave her. I am sure that you will understand.” + </p> + <p> + Then as she made no comment, he resumed his narrative: + </p> + <p> + “I had been ordered to go back to La Villette, and there to resume my + duties as a labourer in the day-time, and to wait for Percy during the + night. The fact that I had received no message from him for two days had + made me somewhat worried, but I have such faith in him, such belief in his + good luck and his ingenuity, that I would not allow myself to be really + anxious. Then on the third day I heard the news.” + </p> + <p> + “What news?” asked Marguerite mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “That the Englishman who was known as the Scarlet Pimpernel had been + captured in a house in the Rue de la Croix Blanche, and had been + imprisoned in the Conciergerie.” + </p> + <p> + “The Rue de la Croix Blanche? Where is that?” + </p> + <p> + “In the Montmartre quarter. Armand lodged there. Percy, I imagine, was + working to get him away; and those brutes captured him.” + </p> + <p> + “Having heard the news, Sir Andrew, what did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I went into Paris and ascertained its truth.” + </p> + <p> + “And there is no doubt of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, none! I went to the house in the Rue de la Croix Blanche. Armand + had disappeared. I succeeded in inducing the concierge to talk. She seems + to have been devoted to her lodger. Amidst tears she told me some of the + details of the capture. Can you bear to hear them, Lady Blakeney?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—tell me everything—don’t be afraid,” she reiterated with + the same dull monotony. + </p> + <p> + “It appears that early on the Tuesday morning the son of the concierge—a + lad about fifteen—was sent off by her lodger with a message to No. 9 + Rue St. Germain l’Auxerrois. That was the house where Percy was staying + all last week, where he kept disguises and so on for us all, and where + some of our meetings were held. Percy evidently expected that Armand would + try and communicate with him at that address, for when the lad arrived in + front of the house he was accosted—so he says—by a big, rough + workman, who browbeat him into giving up the lodger’s letter, and finally + pressed a piece of gold into his hand. The workman was Blakeney, of + course. I imagine that Armand, at the time that he wrote the letter, must + have been under the belief that Mademoiselle Lange was still in prison; he + could not know then that Blakeney had already got her into comparative + safety. In the letter he must have spoken of the terrible plight in which + he stood, and also of his fears for the woman whom he loved. Percy was not + the man to leave a comrade in the lurch! He would not be the man whom we + all love and admire, whose word we all obey, for whose sake we would + gladly all of us give our life—he would not be that man if he did + not brave even certain dangers in order to be of help to those who call on + him. Armand called and Percy went to him. He must have known that Armand + was being spied upon, for Armand, alas! was already a marked man, and the + watch-dogs of those infernal committees were already on his heels. Whether + these sleuth-hounds had followed the son of the concierge and seen him + give the letter to the workman in the Rue St. Germain l’Auxerrois, or + whether the concierge in the Rue de la Croix Blanche was nothing but a spy + of Heron’s, or, again whether the Committee of General Security kept a + company of soldiers in constant alert in that house, we shall, of course, + never know. All that I do know is that Percy entered that fatal house at + half-past ten, and that a quarter of an hour later the concierge saw some + of the soldiers descending the stairs, carrying a heavy burden. She peeped + out of her lodge, and by the light in the corridor she saw that the heavy + burden was the body of a man bound closely with ropes: his eyes were + closed, his clothes were stained with blood. He was seemingly unconscious. + The next day the official organ of the Government proclaimed the capture + of the Scarlet Pimpernel, and there was a public holiday in honour of the + event.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite had listened to this terrible narrative dry-eyed and silent. + Now she still sat there, hardly conscious of what went on around her—of + Suzanne’s tears, that fell unceasingly upon her fingers—of Sir + Andrew, who had sunk into a chair, and buried his head in his hands. She + was hardly conscious that she lived; the universe seemed to have stood + still before this awful, monstrous cataclysm. + </p> + <p> + But, nevertheless, she was the first to return to the active realities of + the present. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Andrew,” she said after a while, “tell me, where are my Lords Tony + and Hastings?” + </p> + <p> + “At Calais, madam,” he replied. “I saw them there on my way hither. They + had delivered the Dauphin safely into the hands of his adherents at + Mantes, and were awaiting Blakeney’s further orders, as he had commanded + them to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Will they wait for us there, think you?” + </p> + <p> + “For us, Lady Blakeney?” he exclaimed in puzzlement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for us, Sir Andrew,” she replied, whilst the ghost of a smile + flitted across her drawn face; “you had thought of accompanying me to + Paris, had you not?” + </p> + <p> + “But Lady Blakeney—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I know what you would say, Sir Andrew. You will speak of dangers, of + risks, of death, mayhap; you will tell me that I as a woman can do nothing + to help my husband—that I could be but a hindrance to him, just as I + was in Boulogne. But everything is so different now. Whilst those brutes + planned his capture he was clever enough to outwit them, but now they have + actually got him, think you they’ll let him escape? They’ll watch him + night and day, my friend, just as they watched the unfortunate Queen; but + they’ll not keep him months, weeks, or even days in prison—even + Chauvelin now will no longer attempt to play with the Scarlet Pimpernel. + They have him, and they will hold him until such time as they take him to + the guillotine.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice broke in a sob; her self-control was threatening to leave her. + She was but a woman, young and passionately in love with the man who was + about to die an ignominious death, far away from his country, his kindred, + his friends. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot let him die alone, Sir Andrew; he will be longing for me, and—and, + after all, there is you, and my Lord Tony, and Lord Hastings and the + others; surely—surely we are not going to let him die, not like + that, and not alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Lady Blakeney,” said Sir Andrew earnestly; “we are not + going to let him die, if human agency can do aught to save him. Already + Tony, Hastings and I have agreed to return to Paris. There are one or two + hidden places in and around the city known only to Percy and to the + members of the League where he must find one or more of us if he succeeds + in getting away. All the way between Paris and Calais we have places of + refuge, places where any of us can hide at a given moment; where we can + find disguises when we want them, or horses in an emergency. No! no! we + are not going to despair, Lady Blakeney; there are nineteen of us prepared + to lay down our lives for the Scarlet Pimpernel. Already I, as his + lieutenant, have been selected as the leader of as determined a gang as + has ever entered on a work of rescue before. We leave for Paris to-morrow, + and if human pluck and devotion can destroy mountains then we’ll destroy + them. Our watchword is: ‘God save the Scarlet Pimpernel.’” + </p> + <p> + He knelt beside her chair and kissed the cold fingers which, with a sad + little smile, she held out to him. + </p> + <p> + “And God bless you all!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Suzanne had risen to her feet when her husband knelt; now he stood up + beside her. The dainty young woman hardly more than a child—was + doing her best to restrain her tears. + </p> + <p> + “See how selfish I am,” said Marguerite. “I talk calmly of taking your + husband from you, when I myself know the bitterness of such partings.” + </p> + <p> + “My husband will go where his duty calls him,” said Suzanne with charming + and simple dignity. “I love him with all my heart, because he is brave and + good. He could not leave his comrade, who is also his chief, in the lurch. + God will protect him, I know. I would not ask him to play the part of a + coward.” + </p> + <p> + Her brown eyes glowed with pride. She was the true wife of a soldier, and + with all her dainty ways and childlike manners she was a splendid woman + and a staunch friend. Sir Percy Blakeney had saved her entire family from + death, the Comte and Comtesse de Tournai, the Vicomte, her brother, and + she herself all owed their lives to the Scarlet Pimpernel. + </p> + <p> + This she was not like to forget. + </p> + <p> + “There is but little danger for us, I fear me,” said Sir Andrew lightly; + “the revolutionary Government only wants to strike at a head, it cares + nothing for the limbs. Perhaps it feels that without our leader we are + enemies not worthy of persecution. If there are any dangers, so much the + better,” he added; “but I don’t anticipate any, unless we succeed in + freeing our chief; and having freed him, we fear nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “The same applies to me, Sir Andrew,” rejoined Marguerite earnestly. “Now + that they have captured Percy, those human fiends will care naught for me. + If you succeed in freeing Percy I, like you, will have nothing more to + fear, and if you fail—” + </p> + <p> + She paused and put her small, white hand on Sir Andrew’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Take me with you, Sir Andrew,” she entreated; “do not condemn me to the + awful torture of weary waiting, day after day, wondering, guessing, never + daring to hope, lest hope deferred be more hard to bear than dreary + hopelessness.” + </p> + <p> + Then as Sir Andrew, very undecided, yet half inclined to yield, stood + silent and irresolute, she pressed her point, gently but firmly insistent. + </p> + <p> + “I would not be in the way, Sir Andrew; I would know how to efface myself + so as not to interfere with your plans. But, oh!” she added, while a + quivering note of passion trembled in her voice, “can’t you see that I + must breathe the air that he breathes else I shall stifle or mayhap go + mad?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew turned to his wife, a mute query in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You would do an inhuman and a cruel act,” said Suzanne with seriousness + that sat quaintly on her baby face, “if you did not afford your protection + to Marguerite, for I do believe that if you did not take her with you + to-morrow she would go to Paris alone.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite thanked her friend with her eyes. Suzanne was a child in + nature, but she had a woman’s heart. She loved her husband, and, + therefore, knew and understood what Marguerite must be suffering now. + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew no longer could resist the unfortunate woman’s earnest + pleading. Frankly, he thought that if she remained in England while Percy + was in such deadly peril she ran the grave risk of losing her reason + before the terrible strain of suspense. He knew her to be a woman of + courage, and one capable of great physical endurance; and really he was + quite honest when he said that he did not believe there would be much + danger for the headless League of the Scarlet Pimpernel unless they + succeeded in freeing their chief. And if they did succeed, then indeed + there would be nothing to fear, for the brave and loving wife who, like + every true woman does, and has done in like circumstances since the + beginning of time, was only demanding with passionate insistence the right + to share the fate, good or ill, of the man whom she loved. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. PARIS ONCE MORE + </h2> + <p> + Sir Andrew had just come in. He was trying to get a little warmth into his + half-frozen limbs, for the cold had set in again, and this time with + renewed vigour, and Marguerite was pouring out a cup of hot coffee which + she had been brewing for him. She had not asked for news. She knew that he + had none to give her, else he had not worn that wearied, despondent look + in his kind face. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll just try one more place this evening,” he said as soon as he had + swallowed some of the hot coffee—“a restaurant in the Rue de la + Harpe; the members of the Cordeliers’ Club often go there for supper, and + they are usually well informed. I might glean something definite there.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems very strange that they are so slow in bringing him to trial,” + said Marguerite in that dull, toneless voice which had become habitual to + her. “When you first brought me the awful news that... I made sure that + they would bring him to trial at once, and was in terror lest we arrived + here too late to—to see him.” + </p> + <p> + She checked herself quickly, bravely trying to still the quiver of her + voice. + </p> + <p> + “And of Armand?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head sadly. + </p> + <p> + “With regard to him I am at a still greater loss,” he said: “I cannot find + his name on any of the prison registers, and I know that he is not in the + Conciergerie. They have cleared out all the prisoners from there; there is + only Percy—” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Armand!” she sighed; “it must be almost worse for him than for any + of us; it was his first act of thoughtless disobedience that brought all + this misery upon our heads.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke sadly but quietly. Sir Andrew noted that there was no bitterness + in her tone. But her very quietude was heart-breaking; there was such an + infinity of despair in the calm of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well! though we cannot understand it all, Lady Blakeney,” he said with + forced cheerfulness, “we must remember one thing—that whilst there + is life there is hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Hope!” she exclaimed with a world of pathos in her sigh, her large eyes + dry and circled, fixed with indescribable sorrow on her friend’s face. + </p> + <p> + Ffoulkes turned his head away, pretending to busy himself with the + coffee-making utensils. He could not bear to see that look of hopelessness + in her face, for in his heart he could not find the wherewithal to cheer + her. Despair was beginning to seize on him too, and this he would not let + her see. + </p> + <p> + They had been in Paris three days now, and it was six days since Blakeney + had been arrested. Sir Andrew and Marguerite had found temporary lodgings + inside Paris, Tony and Hastings were just outside the gates, and all along + the route between Paris and Calais, at St. Germain, at Mantes, in the + villages between Beauvais and Amiens, wherever money could obtain friendly + help, members of the devoted League of the Scarlet Pimpernel lay in + hiding, waiting to aid their chief. + </p> + <p> + Ffoulkes had ascertained that Percy was kept a close prisoner in the + Conciergerie, in the very rooms occupied by Marie Antoinette during the + last months of her life. He left poor Marguerite to guess how closely that + elusive Scarlet Pimpernel was being guarded, the precautions surrounding + him being even more minute than those which had made the unfortunate + Queen’s closing days a martyrdom for her. + </p> + <p> + But of Armand he could glean no satisfactory news, only the negative + probability that he was not detained in any of the larger prisons of + Paris, as no register which he, Ffoulkes, so laboriously consulted bore + record of the name of St. Just. + </p> + <p> + Haunting the restaurants and drinking booths where the most advanced + Jacobins and Terrorists were wont to meet, he had learned one or two + details of Blakeney’s incarceration which he could not possibly impart to + Marguerite. The capture of the mysterious Englishman known as the Scarlet + Pimpernel had created a great deal of popular satisfaction; but it was + obvious that not only was the public mind not allowed to associate that + capture with the escape of little Capet from the Temple, but it soon + became clear to Ffoulkes that the news of that escape was still being kept + a profound secret. + </p> + <p> + On one occasion he had succeeded in spying on the Chief Agent of the + Committee of General Security, whom he knew by sight, while the latter was + sitting at dinner in the company of a stout, florid man with pock-marked + face and podgy hands covered with rings. + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew marvelled who this man might be. Heron spoke to him in + ambiguous phrases that would have been unintelligible to any one who did + not know the circumstances of the Dauphin’s escape and the part that the + League of the Scarlet Pimpernel had played in it. But to Sir Andrew + Ffoulkes, who—cleverly disguised as a farrier, grimy after his day’s + work—was straining his ears to listen whilst apparently consuming + huge slabs of boiled beef, it soon became clear that the chief agent and + his fat friend were talking of the Dauphin and of Blakeney. + </p> + <p> + “He won’t hold out much longer, citizen,” the chief agent was saying in a + confident voice; “our men are absolutely unremitting in their task. Two of + them watch him night and day; they look after him well, and practically + never lose sight of him, but the moment he tries to get any sleep one of + them rushes into the cell with a loud banging of bayonet and sabre, and + noisy tread on the flagstones, and shouts at the top of his voice: ‘Now + then, aristo, where’s the brat? Tell us now, and you shall be down and go + to sleep.’ I have done it myself all through one day just for the pleasure + of it. It’s a little tiring for you to have to shout a good deal now, and + sometimes give the cursed Englishman a good shake-up. He has had five days + of it, and not one wink of sleep during that time—not one single + minute of rest—and he only gets enough food to keep him alive. I + tell you he can’t last. Citizen Chauvelin had a splendid idea there. It + will all come right in a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” grunted the other sulkily; “those Englishmen are tough.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” retorted Heron with a grim laugh and a leer of savagery that made + his gaunt face look positively hideous—“you would have given out + after three days, friend de Batz, would you not? And I warned you, didn’t + I? I told you if you tampered with the brat I would make you cry in mercy + to me for death.” + </p> + <p> + “And I warned you,” said the other imperturbably, “not to worry so much + about me, but to keep your eyes open for those cursed Englishmen.” + </p> + <p> + “I am keeping my eyes open for you, nevertheless, my friend. If I thought + you knew where the vermin’s spawn was at this moment I would—” + </p> + <p> + “You would put me on the same rack that you or your precious friend, + Chauvelin, have devised for the Englishman. But I don’t know where the lad + is. If I did I would not be in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” assented Heron with a sneer; “you would soon be after the + reward—over in Austria, what?—but I have your movements + tracked day and night, my friend. I dare say you are as anxious as we are + as to the whereabouts of the child. Had he been taken over the frontier + you would have been the first to hear of it, eh? No,” he added + confidently, and as if anxious to reassure himself, “my firm belief is + that the original idea of these confounded Englishmen was to try and get + the child over to England, and that they alone know where he is. I tell + you it won’t be many days before that very withered Scarlet Pimpernel will + order his followers to give little Capet up to us. Oh! they are hanging + about Paris some of them, I know that; citizen Chauvelin is convinced that + the wife isn’t very far away. Give her a sight of her husband now, say I, + and she’ll make the others give the child up soon enough.” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed like some hyena gloating over its prey. Sir Andrew nearly + betrayed himself then. He had to dig his nails into his own flesh to + prevent himself from springing then and there at the throat of that wretch + whose monstrous ingenuity had invented torture for the fallen enemy far + worse than any that the cruelties of medieval Inquisitions had devised. + </p> + <p> + So they would not let him sleep! A simple idea born in the brain of a + fiend. Heron had spoken of Chauvelin as the originator of the devilry; a + man weakened deliberately day by day by insufficient food, and the + horrible process of denying him rest. It seemed inconceivable that human, + sentient beings should have thought of such a thing. Perspiration stood up + in beads on Sir Andrew’s brow when he thought of his friend, brought down + by want of sleep to—what? His physique was splendidly powerful, but + could it stand against such racking torment for long? And the clear, the + alert mind, the scheming brain, the reckless daring—how soon would + these become enfeebled by the slow, steady torture of an utter want of + rest? + </p> + <p> + Ffoulkes had to smother a cry of horror, which surely must have drawn the + attention of that fiend on himself had he not been so engrossed in the + enjoyment of his own devilry. As it is, he ran out of the stuffy + eating-house, for he felt as if its fetid air must choke him. + </p> + <p> + For an hour after that he wandered about the streets, not daring to face + Marguerite, lest his eyes betrayed some of the horror which was shaking + his very soul. + </p> + <p> + That was twenty-four hours ago. To-day he had learnt little else. It was + generally known that the Englishman was in the Conciergerie prison, that + he was being closely watched, and that his trial would come on within the + next few days; but no one seemed to know exactly when. The public was + getting restive, demanding that trial and execution to which every one + seemed to look forward as to a holiday. In the meanwhile the escape of the + Dauphin had been kept from the knowledge of the public; Heron and his + gang, fearing for their lives, had still hopes of extracting from the + Englishman the secret of the lad’s hiding-place, and the means they + employed for arriving at this end was worthy of Lucifer and his host of + devils in hell. + </p> + <p> + From other fragments of conversation which Sir Andrew Ffoulkes had gleaned + that same evening, it seemed to him that in order to hide their + defalcations Heron and the four commissaries in charge of little Capet had + substituted a deaf and dumb child for the escaped little prisoner. This + miserable small wreck of humanity was reputed to be sick and kept in a + darkened room, in bed, and was in that condition exhibited to any member + of the Convention who had the right to see him. A partition had been very + hastily erected in the inner room once occupied by the Simons, and the + child was kept behind that partition, and no one was allowed to come too + near to him. Thus the fraud was succeeding fairly well. Heron and his + accomplices only cared to save their skins, and the wretched little + substitute being really ill, they firmly hoped that he would soon die, + when no doubt they would bruit abroad the news of the death of Capet, + which would relieve them of further responsibility. + </p> + <p> + That such ideas, such thoughts, such schemes should have engendered in + human minds it is almost impossible to conceive, and yet we know from no + less important a witness than Madame Simon herself that the child who died + in the Temple a few weeks later was a poor little imbecile, a deaf and + dumb child brought hither from one of the asylums and left to die in + peace. There was nobody but kindly Death to take him out of his misery, + for the giant intellect that had planned and carried out the rescue of the + uncrowned King of France, and which alone might have had the power to save + him too, was being broken on the rack of enforced sleeplessness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. THE BITTEREST FOE + </h2> + <p> + That same evening Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, having announced his intention of + gleaning further news of Armand, if possible, went out shortly after seven + o’clock, promising to be home again about nine. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite, on the other hand, had to make her friend a solemn promise + that she would try and eat some supper which the landlady of these + miserable apartments had agreed to prepare for her. So far they had been + left in peaceful occupation of these squalid lodgings in a tumble-down + house on the Quai de la Ferraille, facing the house of Justice, the grim + walls of which Marguerite would watch with wide-open dry eyes for as long + as the grey wintry light lingered over them. + </p> + <p> + Even now, though the darkness had set in, and snow, falling in close, + small flakes, threw a thick white veil over the landscape, she sat at the + open window long after Sir Andrew had gone out, watching the few small + flicks of light that blinked across from the other side of the river, and + which came from the windows of the Chatelet towers. The windows of the + Conciergerie she could not see, for these gave on one of the inner + courtyards; but there was a melancholy consolation even in the gazing on + those walls that held in their cruel, grim embrace all that she loved in + the world. + </p> + <p> + It seemed so impossible to think of Percy—the laughter-loving, + irresponsible, light-hearted adventurer—as the prey of those fiends + who would revel in their triumph, who would crush him, humiliate him, + insult him—ye gods alive! even torture him, perhaps—that they + might break the indomitable spirit that would mock them even on the + threshold of death. + </p> + <p> + Surely, surely God would never allow such monstrous infamy as the + deliverance of the noble soaring eagle into the hands of those preying + jackals! Marguerite—though her heart ached beyond what human nature + could endure, though her anguish on her husband’s account was doubled by + that which she felt for her brother—could not bring herself to give + up all hope. Sir Andrew said it rightly; while there was life there was + hope. While there was life in those vigorous limbs, spirit in that daring + mind, how could puny, rampant beasts gain the better of the immortal soul? + As for Armand—why, if Percy were free she would have no cause to + fear for Armand. + </p> + <p> + She sighed a sigh of deep, of passionate regret and longing. If she could + only see her husband; if she could only look for one second into those + laughing, lazy eyes, wherein she alone knew how to fathom the infinity of + passion that lay within their depths; if she could but once feel his—ardent + kiss on her lips, she could more easily endure this agonising suspense, + and wait confidently and courageously for the issue. + </p> + <p> + She turned away from the window, for the night was getting bitterly cold. + From the tower of St. Germain l’Auxerrois the clock slowly struck eight. + Even as the last sound of the historic bell died away in the distance she + heard a timid knocking at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Enter!” she called unthinkingly. + </p> + <p> + She thought it was her landlady, come up with more wood, mayhap, for the + fire, so she did not turn to the door when she heard it being slowly + opened, then closed again, and presently a soft tread on the threadbare + carpet. + </p> + <p> + “May I crave your kind attention, Lady Blakeney?” said a harsh voice, + subdued to tones of ordinary courtesy. + </p> + <p> + She quickly repressed a cry of terror. How well she knew that voice! When + last she heard it it was at Boulogne, dictating that infamous letter—the + weapon wherewith Percy had so effectually foiled his enemy. She turned and + faced the man who was her bitterest foe—hers in the person of the + man she loved. + </p> + <p> + “Chauvelin!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Himself at your service, dear lady,” he said simply. + </p> + <p> + He stood in the full light of the lamp, his trim, small figure boldly cut + out against the dark wall beyond. He wore the usual sable-coloured clothes + which he affected, with the primly-folded jabot and cuffs edged with + narrow lace. + </p> + <p> + Without waiting for permission from her he quietly and deliberately placed + his hat and cloak on a chair. Then he turned once more toward her, and + made a movement as if to advance into the room; but instinctively she put + up a hand as if to ward off the calamity of his approach. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders, and the shadow of a smile, that had neither + mirth nor kindliness in it, hovered round the corners of his thin lips. + </p> + <p> + “Have I your permission to sit?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” she replied slowly, keeping her wide-open eyes fixed upon + him as does a frightened bird upon the serpent whom it loathes and fears. + </p> + <p> + “And may I crave a few moments of your undivided attention, Lady + Blakeney?” he continued, taking a chair, and so placing it beside the + table that the light of the lamp when he sat remained behind him and his + face was left in shadow. + </p> + <p> + “Is it necessary?” asked Marguerite. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” he replied curtly, “if you desire to see and speak with your + husband—to be of use to him before it is too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, I pray you, speak, citizen, and I will listen.” + </p> + <p> + She sank into a chair, not heeding whether the light of the lamp fell on + her face or not, whether the lines in her haggard cheeks, or her + tear-dimmed eyes showed plainly the sorrow and despair that had traced + them. She had nothing to hide from this man, the cause of all the tortures + which she endured. She knew that neither courage nor sorrow would move + him, and that hatred for Percy—personal deadly hatred for the man + who had twice foiled him—had long crushed the last spark of humanity + in his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, Lady Blakeney,” he began after a slight pause and in his smooth, + even voice, “it would interest you to hear how I succeeded in procuring + for myself this pleasure of an interview with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Your spies did their usual work, I suppose,” she said coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. We have been on your track for three days, and yesterday evening + an unguarded movement on the part of Sir Andrew Ffoulkes gave us the final + clue to your whereabouts.” + </p> + <p> + “Of Sir Andrew Ffoulkes?” she asked, greatly puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “He was in an eating-house, cleverly disguised, I own, trying to glean + information, no doubt as to the probable fate of Sir Percy Blakeney. As + chance would have it, my friend Heron, of the Committee of General + Security, chanced to be discussing with reprehensible openness—er—certain—what + shall I say?—certain measures which, at my advice, the Committee of + Public Safety have been forced to adopt with a view to—” + </p> + <p> + “A truce on your smooth-tongued speeches, citizen Chauvelin,” she + interposed firmly. “Sir Andrew Ffoulkes has told me naught of this—so + I pray you speak plainly and to the point, if you can.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed with marked irony. + </p> + <p> + “As you please,” he said. “Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, hearing certain matters of + which I will tell you anon, made a movement which betrayed him to one of + our spies. At a word from citizen Heron this man followed on the heels of + the young farrier who had shown such interest in the conversation of the + Chief Agent. Sir Andrew, I imagine, burning with indignation at what he + had heard, was perhaps not quite so cautious as he usually is. Anyway, the + man on his track followed him to this door. It was quite simple, as you + see. As for me, I had guessed a week ago that we would see the beautiful + Lady Blakeney in Paris before long. When I knew where Sir Andrew Ffoulkes + lodged, I had no difficulty in guessing that Lady Blakeney would not be + far off.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was there in citizen Heron’s conversation last night,” she asked + quietly, “that so aroused Sir Andrew’s indignation?” + </p> + <p> + “He has not told you?” “Oh! it is very simple. Let me tell you, Lady + Blakeney, exactly how matters stand. Sir Percy Blakeney—before lucky + chance at last delivered him into our hands—thought fit, as no doubt + you know, to meddle with our most important prisoner of State.” + </p> + <p> + “A child. I know it, sir—the son of a murdered father whom you and + your friends were slowly doing to death.” + </p> + <p> + “That is as it may be, Lady Blakeney,” rejoined Chauvelin calmly; “but it + was none of Sir Percy Blakeney’s business. This, however, he chose to + disregard. He succeeded in carrying little Capet from the Temple, and two + days later we had him under lock, and key.” + </p> + <p> + “Through some infamous and treacherous trick, sir,” she retorted. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin made no immediate reply; his pale, inscrutable eyes were fixed + upon her face, and the smile of irony round his mouth appeared more + strongly marked than before. + </p> + <p> + “That, again, is as it may be,” he said suavely; “but anyhow for the + moment we have the upper hand. Sir Percy is in the Conciergerie, guarded + day and night, more closely than Marie Antoinette even was guarded.” + </p> + <p> + “And he laughs at your bolts and bars, sir,” she rejoined proudly. + “Remember Calais, remember Boulogne. His laugh at your discomfiture, then, + must resound in your ear even to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but for the moment laughter is on our side. Still we are willing to + forego even that pleasure, if Sir Percy will but move a finger towards his + own freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “Again some infamous letter?” she asked with bitter contempt; “some + attempt against his honour?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Lady Blakeney,” he interposed with perfect blandness. “Matters + are so much simpler now, you see. We hold Sir Percy at our mercy. We could + send him to the guillotine to-morrow, but we might be willing—remember, + I only say we might—to exercise our prerogative of mercy if Sir + Percy Blakeney will on his side accede to a request from us.” + </p> + <p> + “And that request?” + </p> + <p> + “Is a very natural one. He took Capet away from us, and it is but credible + that he knows at the present moment exactly where the child is. Let him + instruct his followers—and I mistake not, Lady Blakeney, there are + several of them not very far from Paris just now—let him, I say, + instruct these followers of his to return the person of young Capet to us, + and not only will we undertake to give these same gentlemen a safe conduct + back to England, but we even might be inclined to deal somewhat less + harshly with the gallant Scarlet Pimpernel himself.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed a harsh, mirthless, contemptuous laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think that I quite understand,” she said after a moment or two, + whilst he waited calmly until her out-break of hysterical mirth had + subsided. “You want my husband—the Scarlet Pimpernel, citizen—to + deliver the little King of France to you after he has risked his life to + save the child out of your clutches? Is that what you are trying to say?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” rejoined Chauvelin complacently, “just what we have been saying + to Sir Percy Blakeney for the past six days, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! then you have had your answer, have you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied slowly; “but the answer has become weaker day by day.” + </p> + <p> + “Weaker? I don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me explain, Lady Blakeney,” said Chauvelin, now with measured + emphasis. He put both elbows on the table and leaned well forward, peering + into her face, lest one of its varied expressions escaped him. “Just now + you taunted me with my failure in Calais, and again at Boulogne, with a + proud toss of the head, which I own is excessive becoming; you threw the + name of the Scarlet Pimpernel in my face like a challenge which I no + longer dare to accept. ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel,’ you would say to me, + ‘stands for loyalty, for honour, and for indomitable courage. Think you he + would sacrifice his honour to obtain your mercy? Remember Boulogne and + your discomfiture!’ All of which, dear lady, is perfectly charming and + womanly and enthusiastic, and I, bowing my humble head, must own that I + was fooled in Calais and baffled in Boulogne. But in Boulogne I made a + grave mistake, and one from which I learned a lesson, which I am putting + into practice now.” + </p> + <p> + He paused a while as if waiting for her reply. His pale, keen eyes had + already noted that with every phrase he uttered the lines in her beautiful + face became more hard and set. A look of horror was gradually spreading + over it, as if the icy-cold hand of death had passed over her eyes and + cheeks, leaving them rigid like stone. + </p> + <p> + “In Boulogne,” resumed Chauvelin quietly, satisfied that his words were + hitting steadily at her heart—“in Boulogne Sir Percy and I did not + fight an equal fight. Fresh from a pleasant sojourn in his own magnificent + home, full of the spirit of adventure which puts the essence of life into + a man’s veins, Sir Percy Blakeney’s splendid physique was pitted against + my feeble powers. Of course I lost the battle. I made the mistake of + trying to subdue a man who was in the zenith of his strength, whereas now—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen Chauvelin,” she said, “whereas now—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Percy Blakeney has been in the prison of the Conciergerie for exactly + one week, Lady Blakeney,” he replied, speaking very slowly, and letting + every one of his words sink individually into her mind. “Even before he + had time to take the bearings of his cell or to plan on his own behalf one + of those remarkable escapes for which he is so justly famous, our men + began to work on a scheme which I am proud to say originated with myself. + A week has gone by since then, Lady Blakeney, and during that time a + special company of prison guard, acting under the orders of the Committee + of General Security and of Public Safety, have questioned the prisoner + unremittingly—unremittingly, remember—day and night. Two by + two these men take it in turns to enter the prisoner’s cell every quarter + of an hour—lately it has had to be more often—and ask him the + one question, ‘Where is little Capet?’ Up to now we have received no + satisfactory reply, although we have explained to Sir Percy that many of + his followers are honouring the neighbourhood of Paris with their visit, + and that all we ask for from him are instructions to those gallant + gentlemen to bring young Capet back to us. It is all very simple, + unfortunately the prisoner is somewhat obstinate. At first, even, the idea + seemed to amuse him; he used to laugh and say that he always had the + faculty of sleeping with his eyes open. But our soldiers are untiring in + their efforts, and the want of sleep as well as of a sufficiency of food + and of fresh air is certainly beginning to tell on Sir Percy Blakeney’s + magnificent physique. I don’t think that it will be very long before he + gives way to our gentle persuasions; and in any case now, I assure you, + dear lady, that we need not fear any attempt on his part to escape. I + doubt if he could walk very steadily across this room—” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite had sat quite silent and apparently impassive all the while + that Chauvelin had been speaking; even now she scarcely stirred. Her face + expressed absolutely nothing but deep puzzlement. There was a frown + between her brows, and her eyes, which were always of such liquid blue, + now looked almost black. She was trying to visualise that which Chauvelin + had put before her: a man harassed day and night, unceasingly, + unremittingly, with one question allowed neither respite nor sleep—his + brain, soul, and body fagged out at every hour, every moment of the day + and night, until mind and body and soul must inevitably give way under + anguish ten thousand times more unendurable than any physical torment + invented by monsters in barbaric times. + </p> + <p> + That man thus harassed, thus fagged out, thus martyrised at all hours of + the day and night, was her husband, whom she loved with every fibre of her + being, with every throb of her heart. + </p> + <p> + Torture? Oh, no! these were advanced and civilised times that could afford + to look with horror on the excesses of medieval days. This was a + revolution that made for progress, and challenged the opinion of the + world. The cells of the Temple of La Force or the Conciergerie held no + secret inquisition with iron maidens and racks and thumbscrews; but a few + men had put their tortuous brains together, and had said one to another: + “We want to find out from that man where we can lay our hands on little + Capet, so we won’t let him sleep until he has told us. It is not torture—oh, + no! Who would dare to say that we torture our prisoners? It is only a + little horseplay, worrying to the prisoner, no doubt; but, after all, he + can end the unpleasantness at any moment. He need but to answer our + question, and he can go to sleep as comfortably as a little child. The + want of sleep is very trying, the want of proper food and of fresh air is + very weakening; the prisoner must give way sooner or later—” + </p> + <p> + So these fiends had decided it between them, and they had put their idea + into execution for one whole week. Marguerite looked at Chauvelin as she + would on some monstrous, inscrutable Sphinx, marveling if God—even + in His anger—could really have created such a fiendish brain, or, + having created it, could allow it to wreak such devilry unpunished. + </p> + <p> + Even now she felt that he was enjoying the mental anguish which he had put + upon her, and she saw his thin, evil lips curled into a smile. + </p> + <p> + “So you came to-night to tell me all this?” she asked as soon as she could + trust herself to speak. Her impulse was to shriek out her indignation, her + horror of him, into his face. She longed to call down God’s eternal curse + upon this fiend; but instinctively she held herself in check. Her + indignation, her words of loathing would only have added to his delight. + </p> + <p> + “You have had your wish,” she added coldly; “now, I pray you, go.” + </p> + <p> + “Your pardon, Lady Blakeney,” he said with all his habitual blandness; “my + object in coming to see you tonight was twofold. Methought that I was + acting as your friend in giving you authentic news of Sir Percy, and in + suggesting the possibility of your adding your persuasion to ours.” + </p> + <p> + “My persuasion? You mean that I—” + </p> + <p> + “You would wish to see your husband, would you not, Lady Blakeney?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I pray you command me. I will grant you the permission whenever you + wish to go.” + </p> + <p> + “You are in the hope, citizen,” she said, “that I will do my best to break + my husband’s spirit by my tears or my prayers—is that it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily,” he replied pleasantly. “I assure you that we can manage + to do that ourselves, in time.” + </p> + <p> + “You devil!” The cry of pain and of horror was involuntarily wrung from + the depths of her soul. “Are you not afraid that God’s hand will strike + you where you stand?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said lightly; “I am not afraid, Lady Blakeney. You see, I do not + happen to believe in God. Come!” he added more seriously, “have I not + proved to you that my offer is disinterested? Yet I repeat it even now. If + you desire to see Sir Percy in prison, command me, and the doors shall be + open to you.” + </p> + <p> + She waited a moment, looking him straight and quite dispassionately in the + face; then she said coldly: + </p> + <p> + “Very well! I will go.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “This evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you wish. I would have to go and see my friend Heron first, and + arrange with him for your visit.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go. I will follow in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “C’est entendu. Will you be at the main entrance of the Conciergerie at + half-past nine? You know it, perhaps—no? It is in the Rue de la + Barillerie, immediately on the right at the foot of the great staircase of + the house of Justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Of the house of Justice!” she exclaimed involuntarily, a world of bitter + contempt in her cry. Then she added in her former matter-of-fact tones: + </p> + <p> + “Very good, citizen. At half-past nine I will be at the entrance you + name.” + </p> + <p> + “And I will be at the door prepared to escort you.” + </p> + <p> + He took up his hat and coat and bowed ceremoniously to her. Then he turned + to go. At the door a cry from her—involuntarily enough, God knows!—made + him pause. + </p> + <p> + “My interview with the prisoner,” she said, vainly trying, poor soul! to + repress that quiver of anxiety in her voice, “it will be private?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! Of course,” he replied with a reassuring smile. “Au revoir, Lady + Blakeney! Half-past nine, remember—” + </p> + <p> + She could no longer trust herself to look on him as he finally took his + departure. She was afraid—yes, absolutely afraid that her fortitude + would give way—meanly, despicably, uselessly give way; that she + would suddenly fling herself at the feet of that sneering, inhuman wretch, + that she would pray, implore—Heaven above! what might she not do in + the face of this awful reality, if the last lingering shred of vanishing + reason, of pride, and of courage did not hold her in check? + </p> + <p> + Therefore she forced herself not to look on that departing, sable-clad + figure, on that evil face, and those hands that held Percy’s fate in their + cruel grip; but her ears caught the welcome sound of his departure—the + opening and shutting of the door, his light footstep echoing down the + stone stairs. + </p> + <p> + When at last she felt that she was really alone she uttered a loud cry + like a wounded doe, and falling on her knees she buried her face in her + hands in a passionate fit of weeping. Violent sobs shook her entire frame; + it seemed as if an overwhelming anguish was tearing at her heart—the + physical pain of it was almost unendurable. And yet even through this + paroxysm of tears her mind clung to one root idea: when she saw Percy she + must be brave and calm, be able to help him if he wanted her, to do his + bidding if there was anything that she could do, or any message that she + could take to the others. Of hope she had none. The last lingering ray of + it had been extinguished by that fiend when he said, “We need not fear + that he will escape. I doubt if he could walk very steadily across this + room now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. IN THE CONCIERGERIE + </h2> + <p> + Marguerite, accompanied by Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, walked rapidly along the + quay. It lacked ten minutes to the half hour; the night was dark and + bitterly cold. Snow was still falling in sparse, thin flakes, and lay like + a crisp and glittering mantle over the parapets of the bridges and the + grim towers of the Chatelet prison. + </p> + <p> + They walked on silently now. All that they had wanted to say to one + another had been said inside the squalid room of their lodgings when Sir + Andrew Ffoulkes had come home and learned that Chauvelin had been. + </p> + <p> + “They are killing him by inches, Sir Andrew,” had been the heartrending + cry which burst from Marguerite’s oppressed heart as soon as her hands + rested in the kindly ones of her best friend. “Is there aught that we can + do?” + </p> + <p> + There was, of course, very little that could be done. One or two fine + steel files which Sir Andrew gave her to conceal beneath the folds of her + kerchief; also a tiny dagger with sharp, poisoned blade, which for a + moment she held in her hand hesitating, her eyes filling with tears, her + heart throbbing with unspeakable sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Then slowly—very slowly—she raised the small, death-dealing + instrument to her lips, and reverently kissed the narrow blade. + </p> + <p> + “If it must be!” she murmured, “God in His mercy will forgive!” + </p> + <p> + She sheathed the dagger, and this, too, she hid in the folds of her gown. + </p> + <p> + “Can you think of anything else, Sir Andrew, that he might want?” she + asked. “I have money in plenty, in case those soldiers—” + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew sighed, and turned away from her so as to hide the hopelessness + which he felt. Since three days now he had been exhausting every + conceivable means of getting at the prison guard with bribery and + corruption. But Chauvelin and his friends had taken excellent precautions. + The prison of the Conciergerie, situated as it was in the very heart of + the labyrinthine and complicated structure of the Chatelet and the house + of Justice, and isolated from every other group of cells in the building, + was inaccessible save from one narrow doorway which gave on the guard-room + first, and thence on the inner cell beyond. Just as all attempts to rescue + the late unfortunate Queen from that prison had failed, so now every + attempt to reach the imprisoned Scarlet Pimpernel was equally doomed to + bitter disappointment. + </p> + <p> + The guard-room was filled with soldiers day and night; the windows of the + inner cell, heavily barred, were too small to admit of the passage of a + human body, and they were raised twenty feet from the corridor below. Sir + Andrew had stood in the corridor two days ago, he had looked on the window + behind which he knew that his friend must be eating out his noble heart in + a longing for liberty, and he had realised then that every effort at help + from the outside was foredoomed to failure. + </p> + <p> + “Courage, Lady Blakeney,” he said to Marguerite, when anon they had + crossed the Pont au Change, and were wending their way slowly along the + Rue de la Barillerie; “remember our proud dictum: the Scarlet Pimpernel + never fails! and also this, that whatever messages Blakeney gives you for + us, whatever he wishes us to do, we are to a man ready to do it, and to + give our lives for our chief. Courage! Something tells me that a man like + Percy is not going to die at the hands of such vermin as Chauvelin and his + friends.” + </p> + <p> + They had reached the great iron gates of the house of Justice. Marguerite, + trying to smile, extended her trembling band to this faithful, loyal + comrade. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not be far,” he said. “When you come out do not look to the right or + left, but make straight for home; I’ll not lose sight of you for a moment, + and as soon as possible will overtake you. God bless you both.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed his lips on her cold little hand, and watched her tall, elegant + figure as she passed through the great gates until the veil of falling + snow hid her from his gaze. Then with a deep sigh of bitter anguish and + sorrow he turned away and was soon lost in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite found the gate at the bottom of the monumental stairs open when + she arrived. Chauvelin was standing immediately inside the building + waiting for her. + </p> + <p> + “We are prepared for your visit, Lady Blakeney,” he said, “and the + prisoner knows that you are coming.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way down one of the numerous and interminable corridors of the + building, and she followed briskly, pressing her hand against her bosom + there where the folds of her kerchief hid the steel files and the precious + dagger. + </p> + <p> + Even in the gloom of these ill-lighted passages she realised that she was + surrounded by guards. There were soldiers everywhere; two had stood behind + the door when first she entered, and had immediately closed it with a loud + clang behind her; and all the way down the corridors, through the + half-light engendered by feebly flickering lamps, she caught glimpses of + the white facings on the uniforms of the town guard, or occasionally the + glint of steel of a bayonet. Presently Chauvelin paused beside a door, + which he had just reached. His hand was on the latch, for it did not + appear to be locked, and he turned toward Marguerite. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry, Lady Blakeney,” he said in simple, deferential tones, + “that the prison authorities, who at my request are granting you this + interview at such an unusual hour, have made a slight condition to your + visit.” + </p> + <p> + “A condition?” she asked. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You must forgive me,” he said, as if purposely evading her question, “for + I give you my word that I had nothing to do with a regulation that you + might justly feel was derogatory to your dignity. If you will kindly step + in here a wardress in charge will explain to you what is required.” + </p> + <p> + He pushed open the door, and stood aside ceremoniously in order to allow + her to pass in. She looked on him with deep puzzlement and a look of dark + suspicion in her eyes. But her mind was too much engrossed with the + thought of her meeting with Percy to worry over any trifle that might—as + her enemy had inferred—offend her womanly dignity. + </p> + <p> + She walked into the room, past Chauvelin, who whispered as she went by: + </p> + <p> + “I will wait for you here. And, I pray you, if you have aught to complain + of summon me at once.” + </p> + <p> + Then he closed the door behind her. The room in which Marguerite now found + herself was a small unventilated quadrangle, dimly lighted by a hanging + lamp. A woman in a soiled cotton gown and lank grey hair brushed away from + a parchment-like forehead rose from the chair in which she had been + sitting when Marguerite entered, and put away some knitting on which she + had apparently been engaged. + </p> + <p> + “I was to tell you, citizeness,” she said the moment the door had been + closed and she was alone with Marguerite, “that the prison authorities + have given orders that I should search you before you visit the prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + She repeated this phrase mechanically like a child who has been taught to + say a lesson by heart. She was a stoutish middle-aged woman, with that + pasty, flabby skin peculiar to those who live in want of fresh air; but + her small, dark eyes were not unkindly, although they shifted restlessly + from one object to another as if she were trying to avoid looking the + other woman straight in the face. + </p> + <p> + “That you should search me!” reiterated Marguerite slowly, trying to + understand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the woman. “I was to tell you to take off your clothes, so + that I might look them through and through. I have often had to do this + before when visitors have been allowed inside the prison, so it is no use + your trying to deceive me in any way. I am very sharp at finding out if + any one has papers, or files or ropes concealed in an underpetticoat. + Come,” she added more roughly, seeing that Marguerite had remained + motionless in the middle of the room; “the quicker you are about it the + sooner you will be taken to see the prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + These words had their desired effect. The proud Lady Blakeney, inwardly + revolting at the outrage, knew that resistance would be worse than + useless. Chauvelin was the other side of the door. A call from the woman + would bring him to her assistance, and Marguerite was only longing to + hasten the moment when she could be with her husband. + </p> + <p> + She took off her kerchief and her gown and calmly submitted to the woman’s + rough hands as they wandered with sureness and accuracy to the various + pockets and folds that might conceal prohibited articles. The woman did + her work with peculiar stolidity; she did not utter a word when she found + the tiny steel files and placed them on a table beside her. In equal + silence she laid the little dagger beside them, and the purse which + contained twenty gold pieces. These she counted in front of Marguerite and + then replaced them in the purse. Her face expressed neither surprise, nor + greed nor pity. She was obviously beyond the reach of bribery—just a + machine paid by the prison authorities to do this unpleasant work, and no + doubt terrorised into doing it conscientiously. + </p> + <p> + When she had satisfied herself that Marguerite had nothing further + concealed about her person, she allowed her to put her dress on once more. + She even offered to help her on with it. When Marguerite was fully dressed + she opened the door for her. Chauvelin was standing in the passage waiting + patiently. At sight of Marguerite, whose pale, set face betrayed nothing + of the indignation which she felt, he turned quick, inquiring eyes on the + woman. + </p> + <p> + “Two files, a dagger and a purse with twenty louis,” said the latter + curtly. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin made no comment. He received the information quite placidly, as + if it had no special interest for him. Then he said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “This way, citizeness!” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite followed him, and two minutes later he stood beside a heavy + nail-studded door that had a small square grating let into one of the + panels, and said simply: + </p> + <p> + “This is it.” + </p> + <p> + Two soldiers of the National Guard were on sentry at the door, two more + were pacing up and down outside it, and had halted when citizen Chauvelin + gave his name and showed his tricolour scarf of office. From behind the + small grating in the door a pair of eyes peered at the newcomers. + </p> + <p> + “Qui va la?” came the quick challenge from the guard-room within. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen Chauvelin of the Committee of Public Safety,” was the prompt + reply. + </p> + <p> + There was the sound of grounding of arms, of the drawing of bolts and the + turning of a key in a complicated lock. The prison was kept locked from + within, and very heavy bars had to be moved ere the ponderous door slowly + swung open on its hinges. + </p> + <p> + Two steps led up into the guard-room. Marguerite mounted them with the + same feeling of awe and almost of reverence as she would have mounted the + steps of a sacrificial altar. + </p> + <p> + The guard-room itself was more brilliantly lighted than the corridor + outside. The sudden glare of two or three lamps placed about the room + caused her momentarily to close her eyes that were aching with many shed + and unshed tears. The air was rank and heavy with the fumes of tobacco, of + wine and stale food. A large barred window gave on the corridor + immediately above the door. + </p> + <p> + When Marguerite felt strong enough to look around her, she saw that the + room was filled with soldiers. Some were sitting, others standing, others + lay on rugs against the wall, apparently asleep. There was one who + appeared to be in command, for with a word he checked the noise that was + going on in the room when she entered, and then he said curtly: + </p> + <p> + “This way, citizeness!” + </p> + <p> + He turned to an opening in the wall on the left, the stone-lintel of a + door, from which the door itself had been removed; an iron bar ran across + the opening, and this the sergeant now lifted, nodding to Marguerite to go + within. + </p> + <p> + Instinctively she looked round for Chauvelin. + </p> + <p> + But he was nowhere to be seen. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE CAGED LION + </h2> + <p> + Was there some instinct of humanity left in the soldier who allowed + Marguerite through the barrier into the prisoner’s cell? Had the wan face + of this beautiful woman stirred within his heart the last chord of + gentleness that was not wholly atrophied by the constant cruelties, the + excesses, the mercilessness which his service under this fraternising + republic constantly demanded of him? + </p> + <p> + Perhaps some recollection of former years, when first he served his King + and country, recollection of wife or sister or mother pleaded within him + in favour of this sorely-stricken woman with the look of unspeakable + sorrow in her large blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + Certain it is that as soon as Marguerite passed the barrier he put himself + on guard against it with his back to the interior of the cell and to her. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite had paused on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + After the glaring light of the guard-room the cell seemed dark, and at + first she could hardly see. The whole length of the long, narrow cubicle + lay to her left, with a slight recess at its further end, so that from the + threshold of the doorway she could not see into the distant corner. Swift + as a lightning flash the remembrance came back to her of proud Marie + Antoinette narrowing her life to that dark corner where the insolent eyes + of the rabble soldiery could not spy her every movement. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite stepped further into the room. Gradually by the dim light of an + oil lamp placed upon a table in the recess she began to distinguish + various objects: one or two chairs, another table, and a small but very + comfortable-looking camp bedstead. + </p> + <p> + Just for a few seconds she only saw these inanimate things, then she + became conscious of Percy’s presence. + </p> + <p> + He sat on a chair, with his left arm half-stretched out upon the table, + his head hidden in the bend of the elbow. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite did not utter a cry; she did not even tremble. Just for one + brief instant she closed her eyes, so as to gather up all her courage + before she dared to look again. Then with a steady and noiseless step she + came quite close to him. She knelt on the flagstones at his feet and + raised reverently to her lips the hand that hung nerveless and limp by his + side. + </p> + <p> + He gave a start; a shiver seemed to go right through him; he half raised + his head and murmured in a hoarse whisper: + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that I do not know, and if I did—” + </p> + <p> + She put her arms round him and pillowed her head upon his breast. He + turned his head slowly toward her, and now his eyes—hollowed and + rimmed with purple—looked straight into hers. + </p> + <p> + “My beloved,” he said, “I knew that you would come.” His arms closed round + her. There was nothing of lifelessness or of weariness in the passion of + that embrace; and when she looked up again it seemed to her as if that + first vision which she had had of him with weary head bent, and wan, + haggard face was not reality, only a dream born of her own anxiety for + him, for now the hot, ardent blood coursed just as swiftly as ever through + his veins, as if life—strong, tenacious, pulsating life—throbbed + with unabated vigour in those massive limbs, and behind that square, clear + brow as though the body, but half subdued, had transferred its vanishing + strength to the kind and noble heart that was beating with the fervour of + self-sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + “Percy,” she said gently, “they will only give us a few moments together. + They thought that my tears would break your spirit where their devilry had + failed.” + </p> + <p> + He held her glance with his own, with that close, intent look which binds + soul to soul, and in his deep blue eyes there danced the restless flames + of his own undying mirth: + </p> + <p> + “La! little woman,” he said with enforced lightness, even whilst his voice + quivered with the intensity of passion engendered by her presence, her + nearness, the perfume of her hair, “how little they know you, eh? Your + brave, beautiful, exquisite soul, shining now through your glorious eyes, + would defy the machinations of Satan himself and his horde. Close your + dear eyes, my love. I shall go mad with joy if I drink their beauty in any + longer.” + </p> + <p> + He held her face between his two hands, and indeed it seemed as if he + could not satiate his soul with looking into her eyes. In the midst of so + much sorrow, such misery and such deadly fear, never had Marguerite felt + quite so happy, never had she felt him so completely her own. The + inevitable bodily weakness, which of necessity had invaded even his + splendid physique after a whole week’s privations, had made a severe + breach in the invincible barrier of self-control with which the soul of + the inner man was kept perpetually hidden behind a mask of indifference + and of irresponsibility. + </p> + <p> + And yet the agony of seeing the lines of sorrow so plainly writ on the + beautiful face of the woman he worshipped must have been the keenest that + the bold adventurer had ever experienced in the whole course of his + reckless life. It was he—and he alone—who was making her + suffer; her for whose sake he would gladly have shed every drop of his + blood, endured every torment, every misery and every humiliation; her whom + he worshipped only one degree less than he worshipped his honour and the + cause which he had made his own. + </p> + <p> + Yet, in spite of that agony, in spite of the heartrending pathos of her + pale wan face, and through the anguish of seeing her tears, the ruling + passion—strong in death—the spirit of adventure, the mad, + wild, devil-may-care irresponsibility was never wholly absent. + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart,” he said with a quaint sigh, whilst he buried his face in the + soft masses of her hair, “until you came I was so d—d fatigued.” + </p> + <p> + He was laughing, and the old look of boyish love of mischief illumined his + haggard face. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not lucky, dear heart,” he said a moment or two later, “that those + brutes do not leave me unshaved? I could not have faced you with a week’s + growth of beard round my chin. By dint of promises and bribery I have + persuaded one of that rabble to come and shave me every morning. They will + not allow me to handle a razor my-self. They are afraid I should cut my + throat—or one of theirs. But mostly I am too d—d sleepy to + think of such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Percy!” she exclaimed with tender and passionate reproach. + </p> + <p> + “I know—I know, dear,” he murmured, “what a brute I am! Ah, God did + a cruel thing the day that He threw me in your path. To think that once—not + so very long ago—we were drifting apart, you and I. You would have + suffered less, dear heart, if we had continued to drift.” + </p> + <p> + Then as he saw that his bantering tone pained her, he covered her hands + with kisses, entreating her forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart,” he said merrily, “I deserve that you should leave me to rot + in this abominable cage. They haven’t got me yet, little woman, you know; + I am not yet dead—only d—d sleepy at times. But I’ll cheat + them even now, never fear.” + </p> + <p> + “How, Percy—how?” she moaned, for her heart was aching with + intolerable pain; she knew better than he did the precautions which were + being taken against his escape, and she saw more clearly than he realised + it himself the terrible barrier set up against that escape by ever + encroaching physical weakness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear,” he said simply, “to tell you the truth I have not yet + thought of that all-important ‘how.’ I had to wait, you see, until you + came. I was so sure that you would come! I have succeeded in putting on + paper all my instructions for Ffoulkes and the others. I will give them to + you anon. I knew that you would come, and that I could give them to you; + until then I had but to think of one thing, and that was of keeping body + and soul together. My chance of seeing you was to let them have their will + with me. Those brutes were sure, sooner or later, to bring you to me, that + you might see the caged fox worn down to imbecility, eh? That you might + add your tears to their persuasion, and succeed where they have failed.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed lightly with an unstrained note of gaiety, only Marguerite’s + sensitive ears caught the faint tone of bitterness which rang through the + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Once I know that the little King of France is safe,” he said, “I can + think of how best to rob those d—d murderers of my skin.” + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly his manner changed. He still held her with one arm closely + to, him, but the other now lay across the table, and the slender, + emaciated hand was tightly clutched. He did not look at her, but straight + ahead; the eyes, unnaturally large now, with their deep purple rims, + looked far ahead beyond the stone walls of this grim, cruel prison. + </p> + <p> + The passionate lover, hungering for his beloved, had vanished; there sat + the man with a purpose, the man whose firm hand had snatched men and women + and children from death, the reckless enthusiast who tossed his life + against an ideal. + </p> + <p> + For a while he sat thus, while in his drawn and haggard face she could + trace every line formed by his thoughts—the frown of anxiety, the + resolute setting of the lips, the obstinate look of will around the firm + jaw. Then he turned again to her. + </p> + <p> + “My beautiful one,” he said softly, “the moments are very precious. God + knows I could spend eternity thus with your dear form nestling against my + heart. But those d—d murderers will only give us half an hour, and I + want your help, my beloved, now that I am a helpless cur caught in their + trap. Will you listen attentively, dear heart, to what I am going to say? + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Percy, I will listen,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “And have you the courage to do just what I tell you, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I would not have courage to do aught else,” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + “It means going from hence to-day, dear heart, and perhaps not meeting + again. Hush-sh-sh, my beloved,” he said, tenderly placing his thin hand + over her mouth, from which a sharp cry of pain had well-nigh escaped; + “your exquisite soul will be with me always. Try—try not to give way + to despair. Why! your love alone, which I see shining from your dear eyes, + is enough to make a man cling to life with all his might. Tell me! will + you do as I ask you?” + </p> + <p> + And she replied firmly and courageously: + </p> + <p> + “I will do just what you ask, Percy.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you for your courage, dear. You will have need of it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. FOR THE SAKE OF THAT HELPLESS INNOCENT + </h2> + <p> + The next instant he was kneeling on the floor and his hands were wandering + over the small, irregular flagstones immediately underneath the table. + Marguerite had risen to her feet; she watched her husband with intent and + puzzled eyes; she saw him suddenly pass his slender fingers along a + crevice between two flagstones, then raise one of these slightly and from + beneath it extract a small bundle of papers, each carefully folded and + sealed. Then he replaced the stone and once more rose to his knees. + </p> + <p> + He gave a quick glance toward the doorway. That corner of his cell, the + recess wherein stood the table, was invisible to any one who had not + actually crossed the threshold. Reassured that his movements could not + have been and were not watched, he drew Marguerite closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart,” he whispered, “I want to place these papers in your care. + Look upon them as my last will and testament. I succeeded in fooling those + brutes one day by pretending to be willing to accede to their will. They + gave me pen and ink and paper and wax, and I was to write out an order to + my followers to bring the Dauphin hither. They left me in peace for one + quarter of an hour, which gave me time to write three letters—one + for Armand and the other two for Ffoulkes, and to hide them under the + flooring of my cell. You see, dear, I knew that you would come and that I + could give them to you then.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and that ghost of a smile once more hovered round his lips. He + was thinking of that day when he had fooled Heron and Chauvelin into the + belief that their devilry had succeeded, and that they had brought the + reckless adventurer to his knees. He smiled at the recollection of their + wrath when they knew that they had been tricked, and after a quarter of an + hour’s anxious waiting found a few sheets of paper scribbled over with + incoherent words or satirical verse, and the prisoner having apparently + snatched ten minutes’ sleep, which seemingly had restored to him quite a + modicum of his strength. + </p> + <p> + But of this he told Marguerite nothing, nor of the insults and the + humiliation which he had had to bear in consequence of that trick. He did + not tell her that directly afterwards the order went forth that the + prisoner was to be kept on bread and water in the future, nor that + Chauvelin had stood by laughing and jeering while... + </p> + <p> + No! he did not tell her all that; the recollection of it all had still the + power to make him laugh; was it not all a part and parcel of that great + gamble for human lives wherein he had held the winning cards himself for + so long? + </p> + <p> + “It is your turn now,” he had said even then to his bitter enemy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” Chauvelin had replied, “our turn at last. And you will not bend my + fine English gentleman, we’ll break you yet, never fear.” + </p> + <p> + It was the thought of it all, of that hand to hand, will to will, spirit + to spirit struggle that lighted up his haggard face even now, gave him a + fresh zest for life, a desire to combat and to conquer in spite of all, in + spite of the odds that had martyred his body but left the mind, the will, + the power still unconquered. + </p> + <p> + He was pressing one of the papers into her hand, holding her fingers + tightly in his, and compelling her gaze with the ardent excitement of his + own. + </p> + <p> + “This first letter is for Ffoulkes,” he said. “It relates to the final + measures for the safety of the Dauphin. They are my instructions to those + members of the League who are in or near Paris at the present moment. + Ffoulkes, I know, must be with you—he was not likely, God bless his + loyalty, to let you come to Paris alone. Then give this letter to him, + dear heart, at once, to-night, and tell him that it is my express command + that he and the others shall act in minute accordance with my + instructions.” + </p> + <p> + “But the Dauphin surely is safe now,” she urged. “Ffoulkes and the others + are here in order to help you.” + </p> + <p> + “To help me, dear heart?” he interposed earnestly. “God alone can do that + now, and such of my poor wits as these devils do not succeed in crushing + out of me within the next ten days.” + </p> + <p> + Ten days! + </p> + <p> + “I have waited a week, until this hour when I could place this packet in + your hands; another ten days should see the Dauphin out of France—after + that, we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “Percy,” she exclaimed in an agony of horror, “you cannot endure this + another day—and live!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay!” he said in a tone that was almost insolent in its proud defiance, + “there is but little that a man cannot do an he sets his mind to it. For + the rest, ‘tis in God’s hands!” he added more gently. “Dear heart! you + swore that you would be brave. The Dauphin is still in France, and until + he is out of it he will not really be safe; his friends wanted to keep him + inside the country. God only knows what they still hope; had I been free I + should not have allowed him to remain so long; now those good people at + Mantes will yield to my letter and to Ffoulkes’ earnest appeal—they + will allow one of our League to convey the child safely out of France, and + I’ll wait here until I know that he is safe. If I tried to get away now, + and succeeded—why, Heaven help us! the hue and cry might turn + against the child, and he might be captured before I could get to him. + Dear heart! dear, dear heart! try to understand. The safety of that child + is bound with mine honour, but I swear to you, my sweet love, that the day + on which I feel that that safety is assured I will save mine own skin—what + there is left of it—if I can!” + </p> + <p> + “Percy!” she cried with a sudden outburst of passionate revolt, “you speak + as if the safety of that child were of more moment than your own. Ten + days!—but, God in Heaven! have you thought how I shall live these + ten days, whilst slowly, inch by inch, you give your dear, your precious + life for a forlorn cause? + </p> + <p> + “I am very tough, m’dear,” he said lightly; “‘tis not a question of life. + I shall only be spending a few more very uncomfortable days in this d—d + hole; but what of that?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes spoke the reply; her eyes veiled with tears, that wandered with + heart-breaking anxiety from the hollow circles round his own to the lines + of weariness about the firm lips and jaw. He laughed at her solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “I can last out longer than these brutes have any idea of,” he said gaily. + </p> + <p> + “You cheat yourself, Percy,” she rejoined with quiet earnestness. “Every + day that you spend immured between these walls, with that ceaseless + nerve-racking torment of sleeplessness which these devils have devised for + the breaking of your will—every day thus spent diminishes your power + of ultimately saving yourself. You see, I speak calmly—dispassionately—I + do not even urge my claims upon your life. But what you must weigh in the + balance is the claim of all those for whom in the past you have already + staked your life, whose lives you have purchased by risking your own. + What, in comparison with your noble life, is that of the puny descendant + of a line of decadent kings? Why should it be sacrificed—ruthlessly, + hopelessly sacrificed that a boy might live who is as nothing to the + world, to his country—even to his own people?” + </p> + <p> + She had tried to speak calmly, never raising her voice beyond a whisper. + Her hands still clutched that paper, which seemed to sear her fingers, the + paper which she felt held writ upon its smooth surface the death-sentence + of the man she loved. + </p> + <p> + But his look did not answer her firm appeal; it was fixed far away beyond + the prison walls, on a lonely country road outside Paris, with the rain + falling in a thin drizzle, and leaden clouds overhead chasing one another, + driven by the gale. + </p> + <p> + “Poor mite,” he murmured softly; “he walked so bravely by my side, until + the little feet grew weary; then he nestled in my arms and slept until we + met Ffoulkes waiting with the cart. He was no King of France just then, + only a helpless innocent whom Heaven aided me to save.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite bowed her head in silence. There was nothing more that she + could say, no plea that she could urge. Indeed, she had understood, as he + had begged her to understand. She understood that long ago he had mapped + out the course of his life, and now that that course happened to lead up a + Calvary of humiliation and of suffering he was not likely to turn back, + even though, on the summit, death already was waiting and beckoning with + no uncertain hand; not until he could murmur, in the wake of the great and + divine sacrifice itself, the sublime words: + </p> + <p> + “It is accomplished.” + </p> + <p> + “But the Dauphin is safe enough now,” was all that she said, after that + one moment’s silence when her heart, too, had offered up to God the + supreme abnegation of self, and calmly faced a sorrow which threatened to + break it at last. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” he rejoined quietly, “safe enough for the moment. But he would be + safer still if he were out of France. I had hoped to take him one day with + me to England. But in this plan damnable Fate has interfered. His + adherents wanted to get him to Vienna, and their wish had best be + fulfilled now. In my instructions to Ffoulkes I have mapped out a simple + way for accomplishing the journey. Tony will be the one best suited to + lead the expedition, and I want him to make straight for Holland; the + Northern frontiers are not so closely watched as are the Austrian ones. + There is a faithful adherent of the Bourbon cause who lives at Delft, and + who will give the shelter of his name and home to the fugitive King of + France until he can be conveyed to Vienna. He is named Nauudorff. Once I + feel that the child is safe in his hands I will look after myself, never + fear.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, for his strength, which was only factitious, born of the + excitement that Marguerite’s presence had called forth, was threatening to + give way. His voice, though he had spoken in a whisper all along, was very + hoarse, and his temples were throbbing with the sustained effort to speak. + </p> + <p> + “If those friends had only thought of denying me food instead of sleep,” + he murmured involuntarily, “I could have held out until—” + </p> + <p> + Then with characteristic swiftness his mood changed in a moment. His arms + closed round Marguerite once more with a passion of self-reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forgive me for a selfish brute,” he said, whilst the ghost of a + smile once more lit up the whole of his face. “Dear soul, I must have + forgotten your sweet presence, thus brooding over my own troubles, whilst + your loving heart has a graver burden—God help me!—than it can + possibly bear. Listen, my beloved, for I don’t know how many minutes + longer they intend to give us, and I have not yet spoken to you about + Armand—” + </p> + <p> + “Armand!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + A twinge of remorse had gripped her. For fully ten minutes now she had + relegated all thoughts of her brother to a distant cell of her memory. + </p> + <p> + “We have no news of Armand,” she said. “Sir Andrew has searched all the + prison registers. Oh! were not my heart atrophied by all that it has + endured this past sennight it would feel a final throb of agonising pain + at every thought of Armand.” + </p> + <p> + A curious look, which even her loving eyes failed to interpret, passed + like a shadow over her husband’s face. But the shadow lifted in a moment, + and it was with a reassuring smile that he said to her: + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart! Armand is comparatively safe for the moment. Tell Ffoulkes + not to search the prison registers for him, rather to seek out + Mademoiselle Lange. She will know where to find Armand.” + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne Lange!” she exclaimed with a world of bitterness in the tone of + her voice, “the girl whom Armand loved, it seems, with a passion greater + than his loyalty. Oh! Sir Andrew tried to disguise my brother’s folly, but + I guessed what he did not choose to tell me. It was his disobedience, his + want of trust, that brought this unspeakable misery on us all.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not blame him overmuch, dear heart. Armand was in love, and love + excuses every sin committed in its name. Jeanne Lange was arrested and + Armand lost his reason temporarily. The very day on which I rescued the + Dauphin from the Temple I had the good fortune to drag the little lady out + of prison. I had given my promise to Armand that she should be safe, and I + kept my word. But this Armand did not know—or else—” + </p> + <p> + He checked himself abruptly, and once more that strange, enigmatical look + crept into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I took Jeanne Lange to a place of comparative safety,” he said after a + slight pause, “but since then she has been set entirely free.” + </p> + <p> + “Free?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Chauvelin himself brought me the news,” he replied with a quick, + mirthless laugh, wholly unlike his usual light-hearted gaiety. “He had to + ask me where to find Jeanne, for I alone knew where she was. As for + Armand, they’ll not worry about him whilst I am here. Another reason why I + must bide a while longer. But in the meanwhile, dear, I pray you find + Mademoiselle Lange; she lives at No. 5 Square du Roule. Through her I know + that you can get to see Armand. This second letter,” he added, pressing a + smaller packet into her hand, “is for him. Give it to him, dear heart; it + will, I hope, tend to cheer him. I fear me the poor lad frets; yet he only + sinned because he loved, and to me he will always be your brother—the + man who held your affection for all the years before I came into your + life. Give him this letter, dear; they are my instructions to him, as the + others are for Ffoulkes; but tell him to read them when he is all alone. + You will do that, dear heart, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Percy,” she said simply. “I promise.” + </p> + <p> + Great joy, and the expression of intense relief, lit up his face, whilst + his eyes spoke the gratitude which he felt. + </p> + <p> + “Then there is one thing more,” he said. “There are others in this cruel + city, dear heart, who have trusted me, and whom I must not fail—Marie + de Marmontel and her brother, faithful servants of the late queen; they + were on the eve of arrest when I succeeded in getting them to a place of + comparative safety; and there are others there, too all of these poor + victims have trusted me implicitly. They are waiting for me there, + trusting in my promise to convey them safely to England. Sweetheart, you + must redeem my promise to them. You will?—you will? Promise me that + you will—” + </p> + <p> + “I promise, Percy,” she said once more. + </p> + <p> + “Then go, dear, to-morrow, in the late afternoon, to No. 98, Rue de + Charonne. It is a narrow house at the extreme end of that long street + which abuts on the fortifications. The lower part of the house is occupied + by a dealer in rags and old clothes. He and his wife and family are + wretchedly poor, but they are kind, good souls, and for a consideration + and a minimum of risk to themselves they will always render service to the + English milors, whom they believe to be a band of inveterate smugglers. + Ffoulkes and all the others know these people and know the house; Armand + by the same token knows it too. Marie de Marmontel and her brother are + there, and several others; the old Comte de Lezardiere, the Abbe de + Firmont; their names spell suffering, loyalty, and hopelessness. I was + lucky enough to convey them safely to that hidden shelter. They trust me + implicitly, dear heart. They are waiting for me there, trusting in my + promise to them. Dear heart, you will go, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Percy,” she replied. “I will go; I have promised.” + </p> + <p> + “Ffoulkes has some certificates of safety by him, and the old clothes + dealer will supply the necessary disguises; he has a covered cart which he + uses for his business, and which you can borrow from him. Ffoulkes will + drive the little party to Achard’s farm in St. Germain, where other + members of the League should be in waiting for the final journey to + England. Ffoulkes will know how to arrange for everything; he was always + my most able lieutenant. Once everything is organised he can appoint + Hastings to lead the party. But you, dear heart, must do as you wish. + Achard’s farm would be a safe retreat for you and for Ffoulkes: if... I + know—I know, dear,” he added with infinite tenderness. “See I do not + even suggest that you should leave me. Ffoulkes will be with you, and I + know that neither he nor you would go even if I commanded. Either Achard’s + farm, or even the house in the Rue de Charonne, would be quite safe for + you, dear, under Ffoulkes’s protection, until the time when I myself can + carry you back—you, my precious burden—to England in mine own + arms, or until... Hush-sh-sh, dear heart,” he entreated, smothering with a + passionate kiss the low moan of pain which had escaped her lips; “it is + all in God’s hands now; I am in a tight corner—tighter than ever I + have been before; but I am not dead yet, and those brutes have not yet + paid the full price for my life. Tell me, dear heart, that you have + understood—that you will do all that I asked. Tell me again, my + dear, dear love; it is the very essence of life to hear your sweet lips + murmur this promise now.” + </p> + <p> + And for the third time she reiterated firmly: + </p> + <p> + “I have understood every word that you said to me, Percy, and I promise on + your precious life to do what you ask.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed a deep sigh of satisfaction, and even at that moment there came + from the guard-room beyond the sound of a harsh voice, saying + peremptorily: + </p> + <p> + “That half-hour is nearly over, sergeant; ‘tis time you interfered.” + </p> + <p> + “Three minutes more, citizen,” was the curt reply. + </p> + <p> + “Three minutes, you devils,” murmured Blakeney between set teeth, whilst a + sudden light which even Marguerite’s keen gaze failed to interpret leapt + into his eyes. Then he pressed the third letter into her hand. + </p> + <p> + Once more his close, intent gaze compelled hers; their faces were close + one to the other, so near to him did he draw her, so tightly did he hold + her to him. The paper was in her hand and his fingers were pressed firmly + on hers. + </p> + <p> + “Put this in your kerchief, my beloved,” he whispered. “Let it rest on + your exquisite bosom where I so love to pillow my head. Keep it there + until the last hour when it seems to you that nothing more can come + between me and shame.... Hush-sh-sh, dear,” he added with passionate + tenderness, checking the hot protest that at the word “shame” had sprung + to her lips, “I cannot explain more fully now. I do not know what may + happen. I am only a man, and who knows what subtle devilry those brutes + might not devise for bringing the untamed adventurer to his knees. For the + next ten days the Dauphin will be on the high roads of France, on his way + to safety. Every stage of his journey will be known to me. I can from + between these four walls follow him and his escort step by step. Well, + dear, I am but a man, already brought to shameful weakness by mere + physical discomfort—the want of sleep—such a trifle after all; + but in case my reason tottered—God knows what I might do—then + give this packet to Ffoulkes—it contains my final instructions—and + he will know how to act. Promise me, dear heart, that you will not open + the packet unless—unless mine own dishonour seems to you imminent—unless + I have yielded to these brutes in this prison, and sent Ffoulkes or one of + the others orders to exchange the Dauphin’s life for mine; then, when mine + own handwriting hath proclaimed me a coward, then and then only, give this + packet to Ffoulkes. Promise me that, and also that when you and he have + mastered its contents you will act exactly as I have commanded. Promise me + that, dear, in your own sweet name, which may God bless, and in that of + Ffoulkes, our loyal friend.” + </p> + <p> + Through the sobs that well-nigh choked her she murmured the promise he + desired. + </p> + <p> + His voice had grown hoarser and more spent with the inevitable reaction + after the long and sustained effort, but the vigour of the spirit was + untouched, the fervour, the enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart,” he murmured, “do not look on me with those dear, scared eyes + of yours. If there is aught that puzzles you in what I said, try and trust + me a while longer. Remember, I must save the Dauphin at all costs; mine + honour is bound with his safety. What happens to me after that matters but + little, yet I wish to live for your dear sake.” + </p> + <p> + He drew a long breath which had naught of weariness in it. The haggard + look had completely vanished from his face, the eyes were lighted up from + within, the very soul of reckless daring and immortal gaiety illumined his + whole personality. + </p> + <p> + “Do not look so sad, little woman,” he said with a strange and sudden + recrudescence of power; “those d—d murderers have not got me yet—even + now.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went down like a log. + </p> + <p> + The effort had been too prolonged—weakened nature reasserted her + rights and he lost consciousness. Marguerite, helpless and almost + distraught with grief, had yet the strength of mind not to call for + assistance. She pillowed the loved one’s head upon her breast, she kissed + the dear, tired eyes, the poor throbbing temples. The unutterable pathos + of seeing this man, who was always the personification of extreme + vitality, energy, and boundless endurance and pluck, lying thus helpless, + like a tired child, in her arms, was perhaps the saddest moment of this + day of sorrow. But in her trust she never wavered for one instant. Much + that he had said had puzzled her; but the word “shame” coming from his own + lips as a comment on himself never caused her the slightest pang of fear. + She had quickly hidden the tiny packet in her kerchief. She would act + point by point exactly as he had ordered her to do, and she knew that + Ffoulkes would never waver either. + </p> + <p> + Her heart ached well-nigh to breaking point. That which she could not + understand had increased her anguish tenfold. If she could only have given + way to tears she could have borne this final agony more easily. But the + solace of tears was not for her; when those loved eyes once more opened to + consciousness they should see hers glowing with courage and determination. + </p> + <p> + There had been silence for a few minutes in the little cell. The soldiery + outside, inured to their hideous duty, thought no doubt that the time had + come for them to interfere. The iron bar was raised and thrown back with a + loud crash, the butt-ends of muskets were grounded against the floor, and + two soldiers made noisy irruption into the cell. + </p> + <p> + “Hola, citizen! Wake up,” shouted one of the men; “you have not told us + yet what you have done with Capet!” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite uttered a cry of horror. Instinctively her arms were interposed + between the unconscious man and these inhuman creatures, with a beautiful + gesture of protecting motherhood. + </p> + <p> + “He has fainted,” she said, her voice quivering with indignation. “My God! + are you devils that you have not one spark of manhood in you?” + </p> + <p> + The men shrugged their shoulders, and both laughed brutally. They had seen + worse sights than these, since they served a Republic that ruled by + bloodshed and by terror. They were own brothers in callousness and cruelty + to those men who on this self-same spot a few months ago had watched the + daily agony of a martyred Queen, or to those who had rushed into the + Abbaye prison on that awful day in September, and at a word from their + infamous leaders had put eighty defenceless prisoners—men, women, + and children—to the sword. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him to say what he has done with Capet,” said one of the soldiers + now, and this rough command was accompanied with a coarse jest that sent + the blood flaring up into Marguerite’s pale cheeks. + </p> + <p> + The brutal laugh, the coarse words which accompanied it, the insult flung + at Marguerite, had penetrated to Blakeney’s slowly returning + consciousness. With sudden strength, that appeared almost supernatural, he + jumped to his feet, and before any of the others could interfere he had + with clenched fist struck the soldier a full blow on the mouth. + </p> + <p> + The man staggered back with a curse, the other shouted for help; in a + moment the narrow place swarmed with soldiers; Marguerite was roughly torn + away from the prisoner’s side, and thrust into the far corner of the cell, + from where she only saw a confused mass of blue coats and white belts, and—towering + for one brief moment above what seemed to her fevered fancy like a + veritable sea of heads—the pale face of her husband, with wide + dilated eyes searching the gloom for hers. + </p> + <p> + “Remember!” he shouted, and his voice for that brief moment rang out clear + and sharp above the din. + </p> + <p> + Then he disappeared behind the wall of glistening bayonets, of blue coats + and uplifted arms; mercifully for her she remembered nothing more very + clearly. She felt herself being dragged out of the cell, the iron bar + being thrust down behind her with a loud clang. Then in a vague, dreamy + state of semi-unconsciousness she saw the heavy bolts being drawn back + from the outer door, heard the grating of the key in the monumental lock, + and the next moment a breath of fresh air brought the sensation of renewed + life into her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. AFTERWARDS + </h2> + <p> + “I am sorry, Lady Blakeney,” said a harsh, dry voice close to her; “the + incident at the end of your visit was none of our making, remember.” + </p> + <p> + She turned away, sickened with horror at thought of contact with this + wretch. She had heard the heavy oaken door swing to behind her on its + ponderous hinges, and the key once again turn in the lock. She felt as if + she had suddenly been thrust into a coffin, and that clods of earth were + being thrown upon her breast, oppressing her heart so that she could not + breathe. + </p> + <p> + Had she looked for the last time on the man whom she loved beyond + everything else on earth, whom she worshipped more ardently day by day? + Was she even now carrying within the folds of her kerchief a message from + a dying man to his comrades? + </p> + <p> + Mechanically she followed Chauvelin down the corridor and along the + passages which she had traversed a brief half-hour ago. From some distant + church tower a clock tolled the hour of ten. It had then really only been + little more than thirty brief minutes since first she had entered this + grim building, which seemed less stony than the monsters who held + authority within it; to her it seemed that centuries had gone over her + head during that time. She felt like an old woman, unable to straighten + her back or to steady her limbs; she could only dimly see some few paces + ahead the trim figure of Chauvelin walking with measured steps, his hands + held behind his back, his head thrown up with what looked like triumphant + defiance. + </p> + <p> + At the door of the cubicle where she had been forced to submit to the + indignity of being searched by a wardress, the latter was now standing, + waiting with characteristic stolidity. In her hand she held the steel + files, the dagger and the purse which, as Marguerite passed, she held out + to her. + </p> + <p> + “Your property, citizeness,” she said placidly. + </p> + <p> + She emptied the purse into her own hand, and solemnly counted out the + twenty pieces of gold. She was about to replace them all into the purse, + when Marguerite pressed one of them back into her wrinkled hand. + </p> + <p> + “Nineteen will be enough, citizeness,” she said; “keep one for yourself, + not only for me, but for all the poor women who come here with their heart + full of hope, and go hence with it full of despair.” + </p> + <p> + The woman turned calm, lack-lustre eyes on her, and silently pocketed the + gold piece with a grudgingly muttered word of thanks. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin during this brief interlude, had walked thoughtlessly on ahead. + Marguerite, peering down the length of the narrow corridor, spied his + sable-clad figure some hundred metres further on as it crossed the dim + circle of light thrown by one of the lamps. + </p> + <p> + She was about to follow, when it seemed to her as if some one was moving + in the darkness close beside her. The wardress was even now in the act of + closing the door of her cubicle, and there were a couple of soldiers who + were disappearing from view round one end of the passage, whilst + Chauvelin’s retreating form was lost in the gloom at the other. + </p> + <p> + There was no light close to where she herself was standing, and the + blackness around her was as impenetrable as a veil; the sound of a human + creature moving and breathing close to her in this intense darkness acted + weirdly on her overwrought nerves. + </p> + <p> + “Qui va la?” she called. + </p> + <p> + There was a more distinct movement among the shadows this time, as of a + swift tread on the flagstones of the corridor. All else was silent round, + and now she could plainly hear those footsteps running rapidly down the + passage away from her. She strained her eyes to see more clearly, and anon + in one of the dim circles of light on ahead she spied a man’s figure—slender + and darkly clad—walking quickly yet furtively like one pursued. As + he crossed the light the man turned to look back. It was her brother + Armand. + </p> + <p> + Her first instinct was to call to him; the second checked that call upon + her lips. + </p> + <p> + Percy had said that Armand was in no danger; then why should he be + sneaking along the dark corridors of this awful house of Justice if he was + free and safe? + </p> + <p> + Certainly, even at a distance, her brother’s movements suggested to + Marguerite that he was in danger of being seen. He cowered in the + darkness, tried to avoid the circles of light thrown by the lamps in the + passage. At all costs Marguerite felt that she must warn him that the way + he was going now would lead him straight into Chauvelin’s arms, and she + longed to let him know that she was close by. + </p> + <p> + Feeling sure that he would recognise her voice, she made pretence to turn + back to the cubicle through the door of which the wardress had already + disappeared, and called out as loudly as she dared: + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, citizeness!” + </p> + <p> + But Armand—who surely must have heard—did not pause at the + sound. Rather was he walking on now more rapidly than before. In less than + a minute he would be reaching the spot where Chauvelin stood waiting for + Marguerite. That end of the corridor, however, received no light from any + of the lamps; strive how she might, Marguerite could see nothing now + either of Chauvelin or of Armand. + </p> + <p> + Blindly, instinctively, she ran forward, thinking only to reach Armand, + and to warn him to turn back before it was too late; before he found + himself face to face with the most bitter enemy he and his nearest and + dearest had ever had. But as she at last came to a halt at the end of the + corridor, panting with the exertion of running and the fear for Armand, + she almost fell up against Chauvelin, who was standing there alone and + imperturbable, seemingly having waited patiently for her. She could only + dimly distinguish his face, the sharp features and thin cruel mouth, but + she felt—more than she actually saw—his cold steely eyes fixed + with a strange expression of mockery upon her. + </p> + <p> + But of Armand there was no sign, and she—poor soul!—had + difficulty in not betraying the anxiety which she felt for her brother. + Had the flagstones swallowed him up? A door on the right was the only one + that gave on the corridor at this point; it led to the concierge’s lodge, + and thence out into the courtyard. Had Chauvelin been dreaming, sleeping + with his eyes open, whilst he stood waiting for her, and had Armand + succeeded in slipping past him under cover of the darkness and through + that door to safety that lay beyond these prison walls? + </p> + <p> + Marguerite, miserably agitated, not knowing what to think, looked somewhat + wild-eyed on Chauvelin; he smiled, that inscrutable, mirthless smile of + his, and said blandly: + </p> + <p> + “Is there aught else that I can do for you, citizeness? This is your + nearest way out. No doubt Sir Andrew will be waiting to escort you home.” + </p> + <p> + Then as she—not daring either to reply or to question—walked + straight up to the door, he hurried forward, prepared to open it for her. + But before he did so he turned to her once again: + </p> + <p> + “I trust that your visit has pleased you, Lady Blakeney,” he said suavely. + “At what hour do you desire to repeat it to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” she reiterated in a vague, absent manner, for she was still + dazed with the strange incident of Armand’s appearance and his flight. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You would like to see Sir Percy again to-morrow, would you not? I + myself would gladly pay him a visit from time to time, but he does not + care for my company. My colleague, citizen Heron, on the other hand, calls + on him four times in every twenty-four hours; he does so a few moments + before the changing of the guard, and stays chatting with Sir Percy until + after the guard is changed, when he inspects the men and satisfies himself + that no traitor has crept in among them. All the men are personally known + to him, you see. These hours are at five in the morning and again at + eleven, and then again at five and eleven in the evening. My friend Heron, + as you see, is zealous and assiduous, and, strangely enough, Sir Percy + does not seem to view his visit with any displeasure. Now at any other + hour of the day, Lady Blakeney, I pray you command me and I will arrange + that citizen Heron grant you a second interview with the prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite had only listened to Chauvelin’s lengthy speech with half an + ear; her thoughts still dwelt on the past half-hour with its bitter joy + and its agonising pain; and fighting through her thoughts of Percy there + was the recollection of Armand which so disquieted her. But though she had + only vaguely listened to what Chauvelin was saying, she caught the drift + of it. + </p> + <p> + Madly she longed to accept his suggestion. The very thought of seeing + Percy on the morrow was solace to her aching heart; it could feed on hope + to-night instead of on its own bitter pain. But even during this brief + moment of hesitancy, and while her whole being cried out for this joy that + her enemy was holding out to her, even then in the gloom ahead of her she + seemed to see a vision of a pale face raised above a crowd of swaying + heads, and of the eyes of the dreamer searching for her own, whilst the + last sublime cry of perfect self-devotion once more echoed in her ear: + </p> + <p> + “Remember!” + </p> + <p> + The promise which she had given him, that would she fulfil. The burden + which he had laid on her shoulders she would try to bear as heroically as + he was bearing his own. Aye, even at the cost of the supreme sorrow of + never resting again in the haven of his arms. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of sorrow, in spite of anguish so terrible that she could not + imagine Death itself to have a more cruel sting, she wished above all to + safeguard that final, attenuated thread of hope which was wound round the + packet that lay hidden on her breast. + </p> + <p> + She wanted, above all, not to arouse Chauvelin’s suspicions by markedly + refusing to visit the prisoner again—suspicions that might lead to + her being searched once more and the precious packet filched from her. + Therefore she said to him earnestly now: + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, citizen, for your solicitude on my behalf, but you will + understand, I think, that my visit to the prisoner has been almost more + than I could bear. I cannot tell you at this moment whether to-morrow I + should be in a fit state to repeat it.” + </p> + <p> + “As you please,” he replied urbanely. “But I pray you to remember one + thing, and that is—” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment while his restless eyes wandered rapidly over her face, + trying, as it were, to get at the soul of this woman, at her innermost + thoughts, which he felt were hidden from him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen,” she said quietly; “what is it that I am to remember?” + </p> + <p> + “That it rests with you, Lady Blakeney, to put an end to the present + situation.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you can persuade Sir Percy’s friends not to leave their chief in + durance vile. They themselves could put an end to his troubles to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “By giving up the Dauphin to you, you mean?” she retorted coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “And you hoped—you still hope that by placing before me the picture + of your own fiendish cruelty against my husband you will induce me to act + the part of a traitor towards him and a coward before his followers?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he said deprecatingly, “the cruelty now is no longer mine. Sir + Percy’s release is in your hands, Lady Blakeney—in that of his + followers. I should only be too willing to end the present intolerable + situation. You and your friends are applying the last turn of the + thumbscrew, not I—” + </p> + <p> + She smothered the cry of horror that had risen to her lips. The man’s + cold-blooded sophistry was threatening to make a breach in her armour of + self-control. + </p> + <p> + She would no longer trust herself to speak, but made a quick movement + towards the door. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders as if the matter were now entirely out of his + control. Then he opened the door for her to pass out, and as her skirts + brushed against him he bowed with studied deference, murmuring a cordial + “Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + “And remember, Lady Blakeney,” he added politely, “that should you at any + time desire to communicate with me at my rooms, 19, Rue Dupuy, I hold + myself entirely at your service.” + </p> + <p> + Then as her tall, graceful figure disappeared in the outside gloom he + passed his thin hand over his mouth as if to wipe away the last lingering + signs of triumphant irony: + </p> + <p> + “The second visit will work wonders, I think, my fine lady,” he murmured + under his breath. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. AN INTERLUDE + </h2> + <p> + It was close on midnight now, and still they sat opposite one another, he + the friend and she the wife, talking over that brief half-hour that had + meant an eternity to her. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite had tried to tell Sir Andrew everything; bitter as it was to + put into actual words the pathos and misery which she had witnessed, yet + she would hide nothing from the devoted comrade whom she knew Percy would + trust absolutely. To him she repeated every word that Percy had uttered, + described every inflection of his voice, those enigmatical phrases which + she had not understood, and together they cheated one another into the + belief that hope lingered somewhere hidden in those words. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to despair, Lady Blakeney,” said Sir Andrew firmly; “and, + moreover, we are not going to disobey. I would stake my life that even now + Blakeney has some scheme in his mind which is embodied in the various + letters which he has given you, and which—Heaven help us in that + case!—we might thwart by disobedience. Tomorrow in the late + afternoon I will escort you to the Rue de Charonne. It is a house that we + all know well, and which Armand, of course, knows too. I had already + inquired there two days ago to ascertain whether by chance St. Just was + not in hiding there, but Lucas, the landlord and old-clothes dealer, knew + nothing about him.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite told him about her swift vision of Armand in the dark corridor + of the house of Justice. + </p> + <p> + “Can you understand it, Sir Andrew?” she asked, fixing her deep, luminous + eyes inquiringly upon him. + </p> + <p> + “No, I cannot,” he said, after an almost imperceptible moment of + hesitancy; “but we shall see him to-morrow. I have no doubt that + Mademoiselle Lange will know where to find him; and now that we know where + she is, all our anxiety about him, at any rate, should soon be at an end.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and made some allusion to the lateness of the hour. Somehow it + seemed to her that her devoted friend was trying to hide his innermost + thoughts from her. She watched him with an anxious, intent gaze. + </p> + <p> + “Can you understand it all, Sir Andrew?” she reiterated with a pathetic + note of appeal. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” he said firmly. “On my soul, Lady Blakeney, I know no more of + Armand than you do yourself. But I am sure that Percy is right. The boy + frets because remorse must have assailed him by now. Had he but obeyed + implicitly that day, as we all did—” + </p> + <p> + But he could not frame the whole terrible proposition in words. Bitterly + as he himself felt on the subject of Armand, he would not add yet another + burden to this devoted woman’s heavy load of misery. + </p> + <p> + “It was Fate, Lady Blakeney,” he said after a while. “Fate! a damnable + fate which did it all. Great God! to think of Blakeney in the hands of + those brutes seems so horrible that at times I feel as if the whole thing + were a nightmare, and that the next moment we shall both wake hearing his + merry voice echoing through this room.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to cheer her with words of hope that he knew were but chimeras. A + heavy weight of despondency lay on his heart. The letter from his chief + was hidden against his breast; he would study it anon in the privacy of + his own apartment so as to commit every word to memory that related to the + measures for the ultimate safety of the child-King. After that it would + have to be destroyed, lest it fell into inimical hands. + </p> + <p> + Soon he bade Marguerite good-night. She was tired out, body and soul, and + he—her faithful friend—vaguely wondered how long she would be + able to withstand the strain of so much sorrow, such unspeakable misery. + </p> + <p> + When at last she was alone Marguerite made brave efforts to compose her + nerves so as to obtain a certain modicum of sleep this night. But, strive + how she might, sleep would not come. How could it, when before her wearied + brain there rose constantly that awful vision of Percy in the long, narrow + cell, with weary head bent over his arm, and those friends shouting + persistently in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “Wake up, citizen! Tell us, where is Capet?” + </p> + <p> + The fear obsessed her that his mind might give way; for the mental agony + of such intense weariness must be well-nigh impossible to bear. In the + dark, as she sat hour after hour at the open window, looking out in the + direction where through the veil of snow the grey walls of the Chatelet + prison towered silent and grim, she seemed to see his pale, drawn face + with almost appalling reality; she could see every line of it, and could + study it with the intensity born of a terrible fear. + </p> + <p> + How long would the ghostly glimmer of merriment still linger in the eyes? + When would the hoarse, mirthless laugh rise to the lips, that awful laugh + that proclaims madness? Oh! she could have screamed now with the awfulness + of this haunting terror. Ghouls seemed to be mocking her out of the + darkness, every flake of snow that fell silently on the window-sill became + a grinning face that taunted and derided; every cry in the silence of the + night, every footstep on the quay below turned to hideous jeers hurled at + her by tormenting fiends. + </p> + <p> + She closed the window quickly, for she feared that she would go mad. For + an hour after that she walked up and down the room making violent efforts + to control her nerves, to find a glimmer of that courage which she + promised Percy that she would have. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. SISTERS + </h2> + <p> + The morning found her fagged out, but more calm. Later on she managed to + drink some coffee, and having washed and dressed, she prepared to go out. + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew appeared in time to ascertain her wishes. + </p> + <p> + “I promised Percy to go to the Rue de Charonne in the late afternoon,” she + said. “I have some hours to spare, and mean to employ them in trying to + find speech with Mademoiselle Lange.” + </p> + <p> + “Blakeney has told you where she lives?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. In the Square du Roule. I know it well. I can be there in half an + hour.” + </p> + <p> + He, of course, begged to be allowed to accompany her, and anon they were + walking together quickly up toward the Faubourg St. Honore. The snow had + ceased falling, but it was still very cold, but neither Marguerite nor Sir + Andrew were conscious of the temperature or of any outward signs around + them. They walked on silently until they reached the torn-down gates of + the Square du Roule; there Sir Andrew parted from Marguerite after having + appointed to meet her an hour later at a small eating-house he knew of + where they could have some food together, before starting on their long + expedition to the Rue de Charonne. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later Marguerite Blakeney was shown in by worthy Madame + Belhomme, into the quaint and pretty drawing-room with its soft-toned + hangings and old-world air of faded grace. Mademoiselle Lange was sitting + there, in a capacious armchair, which encircled her delicate figure with + its frame-work of dull old gold. + </p> + <p> + She was ostensibly reading when Marguerite was announced, for an open book + lay on a table beside her; but it seemed to the visitor that mayhap the + young girl’s thoughts had played truant from her work, for her pose was + listless and apathetic, and there was a look of grave trouble upon the + childlike face. + </p> + <p> + She rose when Marguerite entered, obviously puzzled at the unexpected + visit, and somewhat awed at the appearance of this beautiful woman with + the sad look in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I must crave your pardon, mademoiselle,” said Lady Blakeney as soon as + the door had once more closed on Madame Belhomme, and she found herself + alone with the young girl. “This visit at such an early hour must seem to + you an intrusion. But I am Marguerite St. Just, and—” + </p> + <p> + Her smile and outstretched hand completed the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “St. Just!” exclaimed Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Armand’s sister!” + </p> + <p> + A swift blush rushed to the girl’s pale cheeks; her brown eyes expressed + unadulterated joy. Marguerite, who was studying her closely, was conscious + that her poor aching heart went out to this exquisite child, the far-off + innocent cause of so much misery. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne, a little shy, a little confused and nervous in her movements, was + pulling a chair close to the fire, begging Marguerite to sit. Her words + came out all the while in short jerky sentences, and from time to time she + stole swift shy glances at Armand’s sister. + </p> + <p> + “You will forgive me, mademoiselle,” said Marguerite, whose simple and + calm manner quickly tended to soothe Jeanne Lange’s confusion; “but I was + so anxious about my brother—I do not know where to find him.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you came to me, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “Was I wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! But what made you think that—that I would know?” + </p> + <p> + “I guessed,” said Marguerite with a smile. “You had heard about me then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Through whom? Did Armand tell you about me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, alas! I have not seen him this past fortnight, since you, + mademoiselle, came into his life; but many of Armand’s friends are in + Paris just now; one of them knew, and he told me.” + </p> + <p> + The soft blush had now overspread the whole of the girl’s face, even down + to her graceful neck. She waited to see Marguerite comfortably installed + in an armchair, then she resumed shyly: + </p> + <p> + “And it was Armand who told me all about you. He loves you so dearly.” + </p> + <p> + “Armand and I were very young children when we lost our parents,” said + Marguerite softly, “and we were all in all to each other then. And until I + married he was the man I loved best in all the world.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me you were married—to an Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “He loves England too. At first he always talked of my going there with + him as his wife, and of the happiness we should find there together.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say ‘at first’?” + </p> + <p> + “He talks less about England now.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he feels that now you know all about it, and that you understand + each other with regard to the future.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + Jeanne sat opposite to Marguerite on a low stool by the fire. Her elbows + were resting on her knees, and her face just now was half-hidden by the + wealth of her brown curls. She looked exquisitely pretty sitting like + this, with just the suggestion of sadness in the listless pose. Marguerite + had come here to-day prepared to hate this young girl, who in a few brief + days had stolen not only Armand’s heart, but his allegiance to his chief, + and his trust in him. Since last night, when she had seen her brother + sneak silently past her like a thief in the night, she had nurtured + thoughts of ill-will and anger against Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + But hatred and anger had melted at the sight of this child. Marguerite, + with the perfect understanding born of love itself, had soon realised the + charm which a woman like Mademoiselle Lange must of necessity exercise + over a chivalrous, enthusiastic nature like Armand’s. The sense of + protection—the strongest perhaps that exists in a good man’s heart—would + draw him irresistibly to this beautiful child, with the great, appealing + eyes, and the look of pathos that pervaded the entire face. Marguerite, + looking in silence on the dainty picture before her, found it in her + heart to forgive Armand for disobeying his chief when those eyes beckoned + to him in a contrary direction. + </p> + <p> + How could he, how could any chivalrous man endure the thought of this + delicate, fresh flower lying crushed and drooping in the hands of monsters + who respected neither courage nor purity? And Armand had been more than + human, or mayhap less, if he had indeed consented to leave the fate of the + girl whom he had sworn to love and protect in other hands than his own. + </p> + <p> + It seemed almost as if Jeanne was conscious of the fixity of Marguerite’s + gaze, for though she did not turn to look at her, the flush gradually + deepened in her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Lange,” said Marguerite gently, “do you not feel that you + can trust me?” + </p> + <p> + She held out her two hands to the girl, and Jeanne slowly turned to her. + The next moment she was kneeling at Marguerite’s feet, and kissing the + beautiful kind hands that had been stretched out to her with such sisterly + love. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, indeed, I do trust you,” she said, and looked with tear-dimmed + eyes in the pale face above her. “I have longed for some one in whom I + could confide. I have been so lonely lately, and Armand—” + </p> + <p> + With an impatient little gesture she brushed away the tears which had + gathered in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What has Armand been doing?” asked Marguerite with an encouraging smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing to grieve me!” replied the young girl eagerly, “for he is + kind and good, and chivalrous and noble. Oh, I love him with all my heart! + I loved him from the moment that I set eyes on him, and then he came to + see me—perhaps you know! And he talked so beautiful about England, + and so nobly about his leader the Scarlet Pimpernel—have you heard + of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Marguerite, smiling. “I have heard of him.” + </p> + <p> + “It was that day that citizen Heron came with his soldiers! Oh! you do not + know citizen Heron. He is the most cruel man in France. In Paris he is + hated by every one, and no one is safe from his spies. He came to arrest + Armand, but I was able to fool him and to save Armand. And after that,” + she added with charming naivete, “I felt as if, having saved Armand’s + life, he belonged to me—and his love for me had made me his.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I was arrested,” she continued after a slight pause, and at the + recollection of what she had endured then her fresh voice still trembled + with horror. + </p> + <p> + “They dragged me to prison, and I spent two days in a dark cell, where—” + </p> + <p> + She hid her face in her hands, whilst a few sobs shook her whole frame; + then she resumed more calmly: + </p> + <p> + “I had seen nothing of Armand. I wondered where he was, and I knew that he + would be eating out his heart with anxiety for me. But God was watching + over me. At first I was transferred to the Temple prison, and there a kind + creature—a sort of man-of-all work in the prison took compassion on + me. I do not know how he contrived it, but one morning very early he + brought me some filthy old rags which he told me to put on quickly, and + when I had done that he bade me follow him. Oh! he was a very dirty, + wretched man himself, but he must have had a kind heart. He took me by the + hand and made me carry his broom and brushes. Nobody took much notice of + us, the dawn was only just breaking, and the passages were very dark and + deserted; only once some soldiers began to chaff him about me: ‘C’est ma + fille—quoi?’ he said roughly. I very nearly laughed then, only I had + the good sense to restrain myself, for I knew that my freedom, and perhaps + my life, depended on my not betraying myself. My grimy, tattered guide + took me with him right through the interminable corridors of that awful + building, whilst I prayed fervently to God for him and for myself. We got + out by one of the service stairs and exit, and then he dragged me through + some narrow streets until we came to a corner where a covered cart stood + waiting. My kind friend told me to get into the cart, and then he bade the + driver on the box take me straight to a house in the Rue St. Germain + l’Auxerrois. Oh! I was infinitely grateful to the poor creature who had + helped me to get out of that awful prison, and I would gladly have given + him some money, for I am sure he was very poor; but I had none by me. He + told me that I should be quite safe in the house in the Rue St. Germain + l’Auxerrois, and begged me to wait there patiently for a few days until I + heard from one who had my welfare at heart, and who would further arrange + for my safety.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite had listened silently to this narrative so naively told by this + child, who obviously had no idea to whom she owed her freedom and her + life. While the girl talked, her mind could follow with unspeakable pride + and happiness every phase of that scene in the early dawn, when that + mysterious, ragged man-of-all-work, unbeknown even to the woman whom he + was saving, risked his own noble life for the sake of her whom his friend + and comrade loved. + </p> + <p> + “And did you never see again the kind man to whom you owe your life?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “No!” replied Jeanne. “I never saw him since; but when I arrived at the + Rue St. Germain l’Auxerrois I was told by the good people who took charge + of me that the ragged man-of-all-work had been none other than the + mysterious Englishman whom Armand reveres, he whom they call the Scarlet + Pimpernel.” + </p> + <p> + “But you did not stay very long in the Rue St. Germain l’Auxerrois, did + you?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Only three days. The third day I received a communique from the + Committee of General Security, together with an unconditional certificate + of safety. It meant that I was free—quite free. Oh! I could scarcely + believe it. I laughed and I cried until the people in the house thought + that I had gone mad. The past few days had been such a horrible + nightmare.” + </p> + <p> + “And then you saw Armand again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. They told him that I was free. And he came here to see me. He often + comes; he will be here anon.” + </p> + <p> + “But are you not afraid on his account and your own? He is—he must + be still—‘suspect’; a well-known adherent of the Scarlet Pimpernel, + he would be safer out of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “No! oh, no! Armand is in no danger. He, too, has an unconditional + certificate of safety.” + </p> + <p> + “An unconditional certificate of safety?” asked Marguerite, whilst a deep + frown of grave puzzlement appeared between her brows. “What does that + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It means that he is free to come and go as he likes; that neither he nor + I have anything to fear from Heron and his awful spies. Oh! but for that + sad and careworn look on Armand’s face we could be so happy; but he is so + unlike himself. He is Armand and yet another; his look at times quite + frightens me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you know why he is so sad,” said Marguerite in a strange, toneless + voice which she seemed quite unable to control, for that tonelessness came + from a terrible sense of suffocation, of a feeling as if her heart-strings + were being gripped by huge, hard hands. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” said Jeanne half hesitatingly, as if knowing, she was still + unconvinced. + </p> + <p> + “His chief, his comrade, the friend of whom you speak, the Scarlet + Pimpernel, who risked his life in order to save yours, mademoiselle, is a + prisoner in the hands of those that hate him.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite had spoken with sudden vehemence. There was almost an appeal in + her voice now, as if she were trying not to convince Jeanne only, but also + herself, of something that was quite simple, quite straightforward, and + yet which appeared to be receding from her, an intangible something, a + spirit that was gradually yielding to a force as yet unborn, to a phantom + that had not yet emerged from out chaos. + </p> + <p> + But Jeanne seemed unconscious of all this. Her mind was absorbed in + Armand, the man whom she loved in her simple, whole-hearted way, and who + had seemed so different of late. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” she said with a deep, sad sigh, whilst the ever-ready tears + once more gathered in her eyes, “Armand is very unhappy because of him. + The Scarlet Pimpernel was his friend; Armand loved and revered him. Did + you know,” added the girl, turning large, horror-filled eyes on + Marguerite, “that they want some information from him about the Dauphin, + and to force him to give it they—they—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” said Marguerite. + </p> + <p> + “Can you wonder, then, that Armand is unhappy. Oh! last night, after he + went from me, I cried for hours, just because he had looked so sad. He no + longer talks of happy England, of the cottage we were to have, and of the + Kentish orchards in May. He has not ceased to love me, for at times his + love seems so great that I tremble with a delicious sense of fear. But oh! + his love for me no longer makes him happy.” + </p> + <p> + Her head had gradually sunk lower and lower on her breast, her voice died + down in a murmur broken by heartrending sighs. Every generous impulse in + Marguerite’s noble nature prompted her to take that sorrowing child in her + arms, to comfort her if she could, to reassure her if she had the power. + But a strange icy feeling had gradually invaded her heart, even whilst she + listened to the simple unsophisticated talk of Jeanne Lange. Her hands + felt numb and clammy, and instinctively she withdrew away from the near + vicinity of the girl. She felt as if the room, the furniture in it, even + the window before her were dancing a wild and curious dance, and that from + everywhere around strange whistling sounds reached her ears, which caused + her head to whirl and her brain to reel. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne had buried her head in her hands. She was crying—softly, + almost humbly at first, as if half ashamed of her grief; then, suddenly it + seemed, as if she could not contain herself any longer, a heavy sob + escaped her throat and shook her whole delicate frame with its violence. + Sorrow no longer would be gainsaid, it insisted on physical expression—that + awful tearing of the heart-strings which leaves the body numb and panting + with pain. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Marguerite had forgotten; the dark and shapeless phantom that + had knocked at the gate of her soul was relegated back into chaos. It + ceased to be, it was made to shrivel and to burn in the great seething + cauldron of womanly sympathy. What part this child had played in the vast + cataclysm of misery which had dragged a noble-hearted enthusiast into the + dark torture-chamber, whence the only outlet led to the guillotine, she—Marguerite + Blakeney—did not know; what part Armand, her brother, had played in + it, that she would not dare to guess; all that she knew was that here was + a loving heart that was filled with pain—a young, inexperienced soul + that was having its first tussle with the grim realities of life—and + every motherly instinct in Marguerite was aroused. + </p> + <p> + She rose and gently drew the young girl up from her knees, and then closer + to her; she pillowed the grief-stricken head against her shoulder, and + murmured gentle, comforting words into the tiny ear. + </p> + <p> + “I have news for Armand,” she whispered, “that will comfort him, a message—a + letter from his friend. You will see, dear, that when Armand reads it he + will become a changed man; you see, Armand acted a little foolishly a few + days ago. His chief had given him orders which he disregarded—he was + so anxious about you—he should have obeyed; and now, mayhap, he + feels that his disobedience may have been the—the innocent cause of + much misery to others; that is, no doubt, the reason why he is so sad. The + letter from his friend will cheer him, you will see.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really think so, madame?” murmured Jeanne, in whose tear-stained + eyes the indomitable hopefulness of youth was already striving to shine. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it,” assented Marguerite. + </p> + <p> + And for the moment she was absolutely sincere. The phantom had entirely + vanished. She would even, had he dared to re-appear, have mocked and + derided him for his futile attempt at turning the sorrow in her heart to a + veritable hell of bitterness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. LITTLE MOTHER + </h2> + <p> + The two women, both so young still, but each of them with a mark of sorrow + already indelibly graven in her heart, were clinging to one another, bound + together by the strong bond of sympathy. And but for the sadness of it all + it were difficult to conjure up a more beautiful picture than that which + they presented as they stood side by side; Marguerite, tall and stately as + an exquisite lily, with the crown of her ardent hair and the glory of her + deep blue eyes, and Jeanne Lange, dainty and delicate, with the brown + curls and the child-like droop of the soft, moist lips. + </p> + <p> + Thus Armand saw them when, a moment or two later, he entered unannounced. He + had pushed open the door and looked on the two women silently for a second + or two; on the girl whom he loved so dearly, for whose sake he had + committed the great, the unpardonable sin which would send him forever + henceforth, Cain-like, a wanderer on the face of the earth; and the other, + his sister, her whom a Judas act would condemn to lonely sorrow and + widowhood. + </p> + <p> + He could have cried out in an agony of remorse, and it was the groan of + acute soul anguish which escaped his lips that drew Marguerite’s attention + to his presence. + </p> + <p> + Even though many things that Jeanne Lange had said had prepared her for a + change in her brother, she was immeasurably shocked by his appearance. He + had always been slim and rather below the average in height, but now his + usually upright and trim figure seemed to have shrunken within itself; his + clothes hung baggy on his shoulders, his hands appeared waxen and + emaciated, but the greatest change was in his face, in the wide circles + round the eyes, that spoke of wakeful nights, in the hollow cheeks, and + the mouth that had wholly forgotten how to smile. + </p> + <p> + Percy after a week’s misery immured in a dark and miserable prison, + deprived of food and rest, did not look such a physical wreck as did + Armand St. Just, who was free. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite’s heart reproached her for what she felt had been neglect, + callousness on her part. Mutely, within herself, she craved his + forgiveness for the appearance of that phantom which should never have + come forth from out that chaotic hell which had engendered it. + </p> + <p> + “Armand!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + And the loving arms that had guided his baby footsteps long ago, the + tender hands that had wiped his boyish tears, were stretched out with + unalterable love toward him. + </p> + <p> + “I have a message for you, dear,” she said gently—“a letter from + him. Mademoiselle Jeanne allowed me to wait here for you until you came.” + </p> + <p> + Silently, like a little shy mouse, Jeanne had slipped out of the room. Her + pure love for Armand had ennobled every one of her thoughts, and her + innate kindliness and refinement had already suggested that brother and + sister would wish to be alone. At the door she had turned and met Armand’s + look. That look had satisfied her; she felt that in it she had read the + expression of his love, and to it she had responded with a glance that + spoke of hope for a future meeting. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the door had closed on Jeanne Lange, Armand, with an impulse + that refused to be checked, threw himself into his sister’s arms. The + present, with all its sorrows, its remorse and its shame, had sunk away; + only the past remained—the unforgettable past, when Marguerite was + “little mother”—the soother, the comforter, the healer, the + ever-willing receptacle wherein he had been wont to pour the burden of his + childish griefs, of his boyish escapades. + </p> + <p> + Conscious that she could not know everything—not yet, at any rate—he + gave himself over to the rapture of this pure embrace, the last time, + mayhap, that those fond arms would close round him in unmixed tenderness, + the last time that those fond lips would murmur words of affection and of + comfort. + </p> + <p> + To-morrow those same lips would, perhaps, curse the traitor, and the small + hand be raised in wrath, pointing an avenging finger on the Judas. + </p> + <p> + “Little mother,” he whispered, babbling like a child, “it is good to see + you again.” + </p> + <p> + “And I have brought you a message from Percy,” she said, “a letter which + he begged me to give you as soon as may be.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen him?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She nodded silently, unable to speak. Not now, not when her nerves were + strung to breaking pitch, would she trust herself to speak of that awful + yesterday. She groped in the folds of her gown and took the packet which + Percy had given her for Armand. It felt quite bulky in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “There is quite a good deal there for you to read, dear,” she said. “Percy + begged me to give you this, and then to let you read it when you were + alone.” + </p> + <p> + She pressed the packet into his hand. Armand’s face was ashen pale. He + clung to her with strange, nervous tenacity; the paper which he held in + one hand seemed to sear his fingers as with a branding-iron. + </p> + <p> + “I will slip away now,” she said, for strangely enough since Percy’s + message had been in Armand’s hands she was once again conscious of that + awful feeling of iciness round her heart, a sense of numbness that + paralysed her very thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “You will make my excuses to Mademoiselle Lange,” she said, trying to + smile. “When you have read, you will wish to see her alone.” + </p> + <p> + Gently she disengaged herself from Armand’s grasp and made for the door. + He appeared dazed, staring down at that paper which was scorching his + fingers. Only when her hand was on the latch did he seem to realise that + she was going. + </p> + <p> + “Little mother,” came involuntarily to his lips. + </p> + <p> + She came straight back to him and took both his wrists in her small hands. + She was taller than he, and his head was slightly bent forward. Thus she + towered over him, loving but strong, her great, earnest eyes searching his + soul. + </p> + <p> + “When shall I see you again, little mother?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Read your letter, dear,” she replied, “and when you have read it, if you + care to impart its contents to me, come to-night to my lodgings, Quai de + la Ferraille, above the saddler’s shop. But if there is aught in it that + you do not wish me to know, then do not come; I shall understand. + Good-bye, dear.” + </p> + <p> + She took his head between her two cold hands, and as it was still bowed + she placed a tender kiss, as of a long farewell, upon his hair. + </p> + <p> + Then she went out of the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. THE LETTER + </h2> + <p> + Armand sat in the armchair in front of the fire. His head rested against + one hand; in the other he held the letter written by the friend whom he + had betrayed. + </p> + <p> + Twice he had read it now, and already was every word of that minute, clear + writing graven upon the innermost fibres of his body, upon the most secret + cells of his brain. + </p> + <p> + Armand, I know. I knew even before Chauvelin came to me, and stood there + hoping to gloat over the soul-agony a man who finds that he has been + betrayed by his dearest friend. But that d—d reprobate did not get + that satisfaction, for I was prepared. Not only do I know, Armand, but I + UNDERSTAND. I, who do not know what love is, have realised how small a + thing is honour, loyalty, or friendship when weighed in the balance of a + loved one’s need. + </p> + <p> + To save Jeanne you sold me to Heron and his crowd. We are men, Armand, and + the word forgiveness has only been spoken once these past two thousand + years, and then it was spoken by Divine lips. But Marguerite loves you, + and mayhap soon you will be all that is left her to love on this earth. + Because of this she must never know.... As for you, Armand—well, God + help you! But meseems that the hell which you are enduring now is ten + thousand times worse than mine. I have heard your furtive footsteps in the + corridor outside the grated window of this cell, and would not then have + exchanged my hell for yours. Therefore, Armand, and because Marguerite + loves you, I would wish to turn to you in the hour that I need help. I am + in a tight corner, but the hour may come when a comrade’s hand might mean + life to me. I have thought of you, Armand partly because having taken more + than my life, your own belongs to me, and partly because the plan which I + have in my mind will carry with it grave risks for the man who stands by + me. + </p> + <p> + I swore once that never would I risk a comrade’s life to save mine own; + but matters are so different now... we are both in hell, Armand, and I in + striving to get out of mine will be showing you a way out of yours. + </p> + <p> + Will you retake possession of your lodgings in the Rue de la Croix + Blanche? I should always know then where to find you in an emergency. But + if at any time you receive another letter from me, be its contents what + they may, act in accordance with the letter, and send a copy of it at once + to Ffoulkes or to Marguerite. Keep in close touch with them both. Tell her + I so far forgave your disobedience (there was nothing more) that I may yet + trust my life and mine honour in your hands. + </p> + <p> + I shall have no means of ascertaining definitely whether you will do all + that I ask; but somehow, Armand, I know that you will. + </p> + <p> + For the third time Armand read the letter through. + </p> + <p> + “But, Armand,” he repeated, murmuring the words softly under his breath, + “I know that you will.” + </p> + <p> + Prompted by some indefinable instinct, moved by a force that compelled, he + allowed himself to glide from the chair on to the floor, on to his knees. + </p> + <p> + All the pent-up bitterness, the humiliation, the shame of the past few + days, surged up from his heart to his lips in one great cry of pain. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he whispered, “give me the chance of giving my life for him.” + </p> + <p> + Alone and unwatched, he gave himself over for a few moments to the almost + voluptuous delight of giving free rein to his grief. The hot Latin blood + in him, tempestuous in all its passions, was firing his heart and brain + now with the glow of devotion and of self-sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + The calm, self-centred Anglo-Saxon temperament—the almost fatalistic + acceptance of failure without reproach yet without despair, which Percy’s + letter to him had evidenced in so marked a manner—was, mayhap, + somewhat beyond the comprehension of this young enthusiast, with pure + Gallic blood in his veins, who was ever wont to allow his most elemental + passions to sway his actions. But though he did not altogether understand, + Armand St. Just could fully appreciate. All that was noble and loyal in + him rose triumphant from beneath the devastating ashes of his own shame. + </p> + <p> + Soon his mood calmed down, his look grew less wan and haggard. Hearing + Jeanne’s discreet and mouselike steps in the next room, he rose quickly + and hid the letter in the pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + She came in and inquired anxiously about Marguerite; a hurriedly expressed + excuse from him, however, satisfied her easily enough. She wanted to be + alone with Armand, happy to see that he held his head more erect to-day, + and that the look as of a hunted creature had entirely gone from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + She ascribed this happy change to Marguerite, finding it in her heart to + be grateful to the sister for having accomplished what the fiancee had + failed to do. + </p> + <p> + For awhile they remained together, sitting side by side, speaking at + times, but mostly silent, seeming to savour the return of truant + happiness. Armand felt like a sick man who has obtained a sudden surcease + from pain. He looked round him with a kind of melancholy delight on this + room which he had entered for the first time less than a fortnight ago, + and which already was so full of memories. + </p> + <p> + Those first hours spent at the feet of Jeanne Lange, how exquisite they + had been, how fleeting in the perfection of their happiness! Now they + seemed to belong to a far distant past, evanescent like the perfume of + violets, swift in their flight like the winged steps of youth. Blakeney’s + letter had effectually taken the bitter sting from out his remorse, but it + had increased his already over-heavy load of inconsolable sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Later in the day he turned his footsteps in the direction of the river, to + the house in the Quai de la Ferraille above the saddler’s shop. Marguerite + had returned alone from the expedition to the Rue de Charonne. Whilst Sir + Andrew took charge of the little party of fugitives and escorted them out + of Paris, she came back to her lodgings in order to collect her + belongings, preparatory to taking up her quarters in the house of Lucas, + the old-clothes dealer. She returned also because she hoped to see Armand. + </p> + <p> + “If you care to impart the contents of the letter to me, come to my + lodgings to-night,” she had said. + </p> + <p> + All day a phantom had haunted her, the phantom of an agonising suspicion. + </p> + <p> + But now the phantom had vanished never to return. Armand was sitting close + beside her, and he told her that the chief had selected him amongst all + the others to stand by him inside the walls of Paris until the last. + </p> + <p> + “I shall mayhap,” thus closed that precious document, “have no means of + ascertaining definitely whether you will act in accordance with this + letter. But somehow, Armand, I know that you will.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that you will, Armand,” reiterated Marguerite fervently. + </p> + <p> + She had only been too eager to be convinced; the dread and dark suspicion + which had been like a hideous poisoned sting had only vaguely touched her + soul; it had not gone in very deeply. How could it, when in its + death-dealing passage it encountered the rampart of tender, almost + motherly love? + </p> + <p> + Armand, trying to read his sister’s thoughts in the depths of her blue + eyes, found the look in them limpid and clear. Percy’s message to Armand + had reassured her just as he had intended that it should do. Fate had + dealt over harshly with her as it was, and Blakeney’s remorse for the + sorrow which he had already caused her, was scarcely less keen than + Armand’s. He did not wish her to bear the intolerable burden of hatred + against her brother; and by binding St. Just close to him at the supreme + hour of danger he hoped to prove to the woman whom he loved so + passionately that Armand was worthy of trust. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + PART III. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. THE LAST PHASE + </h2> + <p> + “Well? How is it now?” + </p> + <p> + “The last phase, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “He will yield?” + </p> + <p> + “He must.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! you have said it yourself often enough; those English are tough.” + </p> + <p> + “It takes time to hack them to pieces, perhaps. In this case even you, + citizen Chauvelin, said that it would take time. Well, it has taken just + seventeen days, and now the end is in sight.” + </p> + <p> + It was close on midnight in the guard-room which gave on the innermost + cell of the Conciergerie. Heron had just visited the prisoner as was his + wont at this hour of the night. He had watched the changing of the guard, + inspected the night-watch, questioned the sergeant in charge, and finally + he had been on the point of retiring to his own new quarters in the house + of Justice, in the near vicinity of the Conciergerie, when citizen + Chauvelin entered the guard-room unexpectedly and detained his colleague + with the peremptory question: + </p> + <p> + “How is it now?” + </p> + <p> + “If you are so near the end, citizen Heron,” he now said, sinking his + voice to a whisper, “why not make a final effort and end it to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could; the anxiety is wearing me out more’n him,” he added with a + jerky movement of the head in direction of the inner cell. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I try?” rejoined Chauvelin grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, an you wish.” + </p> + <p> + Citizen Heron’s long limbs were sprawling on a guard-room chair. In this + low narrow room he looked like some giant whose body had been carelessly + and loosely put together by a ‘prentice hand in the art of manufacture. + His broad shoulders were bent, probably under the weight of anxiety to + which he had referred, and his head, with the lank, shaggy hair + overshadowing the brow, was sunk deep down on his chest. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin looked on his friend and associate with no small measure of + contempt. He would no doubt have preferred to conclude the present + difficult transaction entirely in his own way and alone; but equally there + was no doubt that the Committee of Public Safety did not trust him quite + so fully as it used to do before the fiasco at Calais and the blunders of + Boulogne. Heron, on the other hand, enjoyed to its outermost the + confidence of his colleagues; his ferocious cruelty and his callousness + were well known, whilst physically, owing to his great height and bulky if + loosely knit frame, he had a decided advantage over his trim and slender + friend. + </p> + <p> + As far as the bringing of prisoners to trial was concerned, the chief + agent of the Committee of General Security had been given a perfectly free + hand by the decree of the 27th Nivose. At first, therefore, he had + experienced no difficulty when he desired to keep the Englishman in close + confinement for a time without hurrying on that summary trial and + condemnation which the populace had loudly demanded, and to which they + felt that they were entitled to as a public holiday. The death of the + Scarlet Pimpernel on the guillotine had been a spectacle promised by every + demagogue who desired to purchase a few votes by holding out visions of + pleasant doings to come; and during the first few days the mob of Paris + was content to enjoy the delights of expectation. + </p> + <p> + But now seventeen days had gone by and still the Englishman was not being + brought to trial. The pleasure-loving public was waxing impatient, and + earlier this evening, when citizen Heron had shown himself in the stalls + of the national theatre, he was greeted by a crowded audience with decided + expressions of disapproval and open mutterings of: + </p> + <p> + “What of the Scarlet Pimpernel?” + </p> + <p> + It almost looked as if he would have to bring that accursed Englishman to + the guillotine without having wrested from him the secret which he would + have given a fortune to possess. Chauvelin, who had also been present at + the theatre, had heard the expressions of discontent; hence his visit to + his colleague at this late hour of the night. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I try?” he had queried with some impatience, and a deep sigh of + satisfaction escaped his thin lips when the chief agent, wearied and + discouraged, had reluctantly agreed. + </p> + <p> + “Let the men make as much noise as they like,” he added with an + enigmatical smile. “The Englishman and I will want an accompaniment to our + pleasant conversation.” + </p> + <p> + Heron growled a surly assent, and without another word Chauvelin turned + towards the inner cell. As he stepped in he allowed the iron bar to fall + into its socket behind him. Then he went farther into the room until the + distant recess was fully revealed to him. His tread had been furtive and + almost noiseless. Now he paused, for he had caught sight of the prisoner. For + a moment he stood quite still, with hands clasped behind his back in his + wonted attitude—still save for a strange, involuntary twitching of + his mouth, and the nervous clasping and interlocking of his fingers behind + his back. He was savouring to its utmost fulsomeness the supremest joy + which animal man can ever know—the joy of looking on a fallen enemy. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney sat at the table with one arm resting on it, the emaciated hand + tightly clutched, the body leaning forward, the eyes looking into + nothingness. + </p> + <p> + For the moment he was unconscious of Chauvelin’s presence, and the latter + could gaze on him to the full content of his heart. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, to all outward appearances there sat a man whom privations of + every sort and kind, the want of fresh air, of proper food, above all, of + rest, had worn down physically to a shadow. There was not a particle of + colour in cheeks or lips, the skin was grey in hue, the eyes looked like + deep caverns, wherein the glow of fever was all that was left of life. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin looked on in silence, vaguely stirred by something that he could + not define, something that right through his triumphant satisfaction, his + hatred and final certainty of revenge, had roused in him a sense almost of + admiration. + </p> + <p> + He gazed on the noiseless figure of the man who had endured so much for an + ideal, and as he gazed it seemed to him as if the spirit no longer dwelt + in the body, but hovered round in the dank, stuffy air of the narrow cell + above the head of the lonely prisoner, crowning it with glory that was no + longer of this earth. + </p> + <p> + Of this the looker-on was conscious despite himself, of that and of the + fact that stare as he might, and with perception rendered doubly keen by + hate, he could not, in spite of all, find the least trace of mental + weakness in that far-seeing gaze which seemed to pierce the prison walls, + nor could he see that bodily weakness had tended to subdue the ruling + passions. + </p> + <p> + Sir Percy Blakeney—a prisoner since seventeen days in close, + solitary confinement, half-starved, deprived of rest, and of that mental + and physical activity which had been the very essence of life to him + hitherto—might be outwardly but a shadow of his former brilliant + self, but nevertheless he was still that same elegant English gentleman, + that prince of dandies whom Chauvelin had first met eighteen months ago at + the most courtly Court in Europe. His clothes, despite constant wear and + the want of attention from a scrupulous valet, still betrayed the + perfection of London tailoring; he had put them on with meticulous care, + they were free from the slightest particle of dust, and the filmy folds of + priceless Mechlin still half-veiled the delicate whiteness of his shapely + hands. + </p> + <p> + And in the pale, haggard face, in the whole pose of body and of arm, there + was still the expression of that indomitable strength of will, that + reckless daring, that almost insolent challenge to Fate; it was there + untamed, uncrushed. Chauvelin himself could not deny to himself its + presence or its force. He felt that behind that smooth brow, which looked + waxlike now, the mind was still alert, scheming, plotting, striving for + freedom, for conquest and for power, and rendered even doubly keen and + virile by the ardour of supreme self-sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin now made a slight movement and suddenly Blakeney became + conscious of his presence, and swift as a flash a smile lit up his wan + face. + </p> + <p> + “Why! if it is not my engaging friend Monsieur Chambertin,” he said gaily. + </p> + <p> + He rose and stepped forward in the most approved fashion prescribed by the + elaborate etiquette of the time. But Chauvelin smiled grimly and a look of + almost animal lust gleamed in his pale eyes, for he had noted that as he + rose Sir Percy had to seek the support of the table, even whilst a dull + film appeared to gather over his eyes. + </p> + <p> + The gesture had been quick and cleverly disguised, but it had been there + nevertheless—that and the livid hue that overspread the face as if + consciousness was threatening to go. All of which was sufficient still + further to assure the looker-on that that mighty physical strength was + giving way at last, that strength which he had hated in his enemy almost + as much as he had hated the thinly veiled insolence of his manner. + </p> + <p> + “And what procures me, sir, the honour of your visit?” continued Blakeney, + who had—at any rate, outwardly soon recovered himself, and whose + voice, though distinctly hoarse and spent, rang quite cheerfully across + the dank narrow cell. + </p> + <p> + “My desire for your welfare, Sir Percy,” replied Chauvelin with equal + pleasantry. + </p> + <p> + “La, sir; but have you not gratified that desire already, to an extent + which leaves no room for further solicitude? But I pray you, will you not + sit down?” he continued, turning back toward the table. “I was about to + partake of the lavish supper which your friends have provided for me. Will + you not share it, sir? You are most royally welcome, and it will mayhap + remind you of that supper we shared together in Calais, eh? when you, + Monsieur Chambertin, were temporarily in holy orders.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed, offering his enemy a chair, and pointed with inviting gesture + to the hunk of brown bread and the mug of water which stood on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Such as it is, sir,” he said with a pleasant smile, “it is yours to + command.” + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin sat down. He held his lower lip tightly between his teeth, so + tightly that a few drops of blood appeared upon its narrow surface. He was + making vigorous efforts to keep his temper under control, for he would not + give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing him resent his insolence. He + could afford to keep calm now that victory was at last in sight, now that + he knew that he had but to raise a finger, and those smiling, impudent + lips would be closed forever at last. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Percy,” he resumed quietly, “no doubt it affords you a certain amount + of pleasure to aim your sarcastic shafts at me. I will not begrudge you + that pleasure; in your present position, sir, your shafts have little or + no sting.” + </p> + <p> + “And I shall have but few chances left to aim them at your charming self,” + interposed Blakeney, who had drawn another chair close to the table and + was now sitting opposite his enemy, with the light of the lamp falling + full on his own face, as if he wished his enemy to know that he had + nothing to hide, no thought, no hope, no fear. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Chauvelin dryly. “That being the case, Sir Percy, what say + you to no longer wasting the few chances which are left to you for safety? + The time is getting on. You are not, I imagine, quite as hopeful as you + were even a week ago,... you have never been over-comfortable in this + cell, why not end this unpleasant state of affairs now—once and for + all? You’ll not have cause to regret it. My word on it.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Percy leaned back in his chair. He yawned loudly and ostentatiously. + </p> + <p> + “I pray you, sir, forgive me,” he said. “Never have I been so d—d + fatigued. I have not slept for more than a fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, Sir Percy. A night’s rest would do you a world of good.” + </p> + <p> + “A night, sir?” exclaimed Blakeney with what seemed like an echo of his + former inimitable laugh. “La! I should want a week.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid we could not arrange for that, but one night would greatly + refresh you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, sir, you are right; but those d—d fellows in the + next room make so much noise.” + </p> + <p> + “I would give strict orders that perfect quietude reigned in the + guard-room this night,” said Chauvelin, murmuring softly, and there was a + gentle purr in his voice, “and that you were left undisturbed for several + hours. I would give orders that a comforting supper be served to you at + once, and that everything be done to minister to your wants.” + </p> + <p> + “That sounds d—d alluring, sir. Why did you not suggest this + before?” + </p> + <p> + “You were so—what shall I say—so obstinate, Sir Percy?” + </p> + <p> + “Call it pig-headed, my dear Monsieur Chambertin,” retorted Blakeney + gaily, “truly you would oblige me.” + </p> + <p> + “In any case you, sir, were acting in direct opposition to your own + interests.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore you came,” concluded Blakeney airily, “like the good Samaritan + to take compassion on me and my troubles, and to lead me straight away to + comfort, a good supper and a downy bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Admirably put, Sir Percy,” said Chauvelin blandly; “that is exactly my + mission.” + </p> + <p> + “How will you set to work, Monsieur Chambertin?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite easily, if you, Sir Percy, will yield to the persuasion of my + friend citizen Heron.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes! He is anxious to know where little Capet is. A reasonable whim, + you will own, considering that the disappearance of the child is causing + him grave anxiety.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, Monsieur Chambertin?” queried Sir Percy with that suspicion of + insolence in his manner which had the power to irritate his enemy even + now. “And yourself, sir; what are your wishes in the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Mine, Sir Percy?” retorted Chauvelin. “Mine? Why, to tell you the truth, + the fate of little Capet interests me but little. Let him rot in Austria + or in our prisons, I care not which. He’ll never trouble France overmuch, + I imagine. The teachings of old Simon will not tend to make a leader or a + king out of the puny brat whom you chose to drag out of our keeping. My + wishes, sir, are the annihilation of your accursed League, and the lasting + disgrace, if not the death, of its chief.” + </p> + <p> + He had spoken more hotly than he had intended, but all the pent-up rage of + the past eighteen months, the recollections of Calais and of Boulogne, had + all surged up again in his mind, because despite the closeness of these + prison walls, despite the grim shadow of starvation and of death that + beckoned so close at hand, he still encountered a pair of mocking eyes, + fixed with relentless insolence upon him. + </p> + <p> + Whilst he spoke Blakeney had once more leaned forward, resting his elbows + upon the table. Now he drew nearer to him the wooden platter on which + reposed that very uninviting piece of dry bread. With solemn intentness he + proceeded to break the bread into pieces; then he offered the platter to + Chauvelin. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said pleasantly, “that I cannot offer you more dainty + fare, sir, but this is all that your friends have supplied me with + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + He crumbled some of the dry bread in his slender fingers, then started + munching the crumbs with apparent relish. He poured out some water into + the mug and drank it. Then he said with a light laugh: + </p> + <p> + “Even the vinegar which that ruffian Brogard served us at Calais was + preferable to this, do you not imagine so, my good Monsieur Chambertin?” + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin made no reply. Like a feline creature on the prowl, he was + watching the prey that had so nearly succumbed to his talons. Blakeney’s + face now was positively ghastly. The effort to speak, to laugh, to appear + unconcerned, was apparently beyond his strength. His cheeks and lips were + livid in hue, the skin clung like a thin layer of wax to the bones of + cheek and jaw, and the heavy lids that fell over the eyes had purple + patches on them like lead. + </p> + <p> + To a system in such an advanced state of exhaustion the stale water and + dusty bread must have been terribly nauseating, and Chauvelin himself + callous and thirsting for vengeance though he was, could hardly bear to + look calmly on the martyrdom of this man whom he and his colleagues were + torturing in order to gain their own ends. + </p> + <p> + An ashen hue, which seemed like the shadow of the hand of death, passed + over the prisoner’s face. Chauvelin felt compelled to avert his gaze. A + feeling that was almost akin to remorse had stirred a hidden chord in his + heart. The feeling did not last—the heart had been too long + atrophied by the constantly recurring spectacles of cruelties, massacres, + and wholesale hecatombs perpetrated in the past eighteen months in the + name of liberty and fraternity to be capable of a sustained effort in the + direction of gentleness or of pity. Any noble instinct in these + revolutionaries had long ago been drowned in a whirlpool of exploits that + would forever sully the records of humanity; and this keeping of a + fellow-creature on the rack in order to wring from him a Judas-like + betrayal was but a complement to a record of infamy that had ceased by its + very magnitude to weigh upon their souls. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin was in no way different from his colleagues; the crimes in which + he had had no hand he had condoned by continuing to serve the Government + that had committed them, and his ferocity in the present case was + increased a thousandfold by his personal hatred for the man who had so + often fooled and baffled him. + </p> + <p> + When he looked round a second or two later that ephemeral fit of remorse + did its final vanishing; he had once more encountered the pleasant smile, + the laughing if ashen-pale face of his unconquered foe. + </p> + <p> + “Only a passing giddiness, my dear sir,” said Sir Percy lightly. “As you + were saying—” + </p> + <p> + At the airily-spoken words, at the smile that accompanied them, Chauvelin + had jumped to his feet. There was something almost supernatural, weird, + and impish about the present situation, about this dying man who, like an + impudent schoolboy, seemed to be mocking Death with his tongue in his + cheek, about his laugh that appeared to find its echo in a widely yawning + grave. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of God, Sir Percy,” he said roughly, as he brought his + clenched fist crashing down upon the table, “this situation is + intolerable. Bring it to an end to-night!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir?” retorted Blakeney, “methought you and your kind did not + believe in God.” + </p> + <p> + “No. But you English do.” + </p> + <p> + “We do. But we do not care to hear His name on your lips.” + </p> + <p> + “Then in the name of the wife whom you love—” + </p> + <p> + But even before the words had died upon his lips, Sir Percy, too, had + risen to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Have done, man—have done,” he broke in hoarsely, and despite + weakness, despite exhaustion and weariness, there was such a dangerous + look in his hollow eyes as he leaned across the table that Chauvelin drew + back a step or two, and—vaguely fearful—looked furtively + towards the opening into the guard-room. “Have done,” he reiterated for + the third time; “do not name her, or by the living God whom you dared to + invoke I’ll find strength yet to smite you in the face.” + </p> + <p> + But Chauvelin, after that first moment of almost superstitious fear, had + quickly recovered his sang-froid. + </p> + <p> + “Little Capet, Sir Percy,” he said, meeting the other’s threatening glance + with an imperturbable smile, “tell me where to find him, and you may yet + live to savour the caresses of the most beautiful woman in England.” + </p> + <p> + He had meant it as a taunt, the final turn of the thumb-screw applied to a + dying man, and he had in that watchful, keen mind of his well weighed the + full consequences of the taunt. + </p> + <p> + The next moment he had paid to the full the anticipated price. Sir Percy + had picked up the pewter mug from the table—it was half-filled with + brackish water—and with a hand that trembled but slightly he hurled + it straight at his opponent’s face. + </p> + <p> + The heavy mug did not hit citizen Chauvelin; it went crashing against the + stone wall opposite. But the water was trickling from the top of his head + all down his eyes and cheeks. He shrugged his shoulders with a look of + benign indulgence directed at his enemy, who had fallen back into his + chair exhausted with the effort. + </p> + <p> + Then he took out his handkerchief and calmly wiped the water from his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite so straight a shot as you used to be, Sir Percy,” he said + mockingly. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir—apparently—not.” + </p> + <p> + The words came out in gasps. He was like a man only partly conscious. The + lips were parted, the eyes closed, the head leaning against the high back + of the chair. For the space of one second Chauvelin feared that his zeal + had outrun his prudence, that he had dealt a death-blow to a man in the + last stage of exhaustion, where he had only wished to fan the flickering + flame of life. Hastily—for the seconds seemed precious—he ran + to the opening that led into the guard-room. + </p> + <p> + “Brandy—quick!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Heron looked up, roused from the semi-somnolence in which he had lain for + the past half-hour. He disentangled his long limbs from out the guard-room + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” he queried. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Brandy,” reiterated Chauvelin impatiently; “the prisoner has fainted.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” retorted the other with a callous shrug of the shoulders, “you are + not going to revive him with brandy, I imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “No. But you will, citizen Heron,” rejoined the other dryly, “for if you + do not he’ll be dead in an hour!” + </p> + <p> + “Devils in hell!” exclaimed Heron, “you have not killed him? You—you + d—d fool!” + </p> + <p> + He was wide awake enough now; wide awake and shaking with fury. Almost + foaming at the mouth and uttering volleys of the choicest oaths, he + elbowed his way roughly through the groups of soldiers who were crowding + round the centre table of the guard-room, smoking and throwing dice or + playing cards. They made way for him as hurriedly as they could, for it + was not safe to thwart the citizen agent when he was in a rage. + </p> + <p> + Heron walked across to the opening and lifted the iron bar. With scant + ceremony he pushed his colleague aside and strode into the cell, whilst + Chauvelin, seemingly not resenting the other’s ruffianly manners and + violent language, followed close upon his heel. + </p> + <p> + In the centre of the room both men paused, and Heron turned with a surly + growl to his friend. + </p> + <p> + “You vowed he would be dead in an hour,” he said reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + The other shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “It does not look like it now certainly,” he said dryly. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney was sitting—as was his wont—close to the table, with + one arm leaning on it, the other, tightly clenched, resting upon his knee. + A ghost of a smile hovered round his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Not in an hour, citizen Heron,” he said, and his voice flow was scarce + above a whisper, “nor yet in two.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool, man,” said Heron roughly. “You have had seventeen days of + this. Are you not sick of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Heartily, my dear friend,” replied Blakeney a little more firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Seventeen days,” reiterated the other, nodding his shaggy head; “you came + here on the 2nd of Pluviose, today is the 19th.” + </p> + <p> + “The 19th Pluviose?” interposed Sir Percy, and a strange gleam suddenly + flashed in his eyes. “Demn it, sir, and in Christian parlance what may + that day be?” + </p> + <p> + “The 7th of February at your service, Sir Percy,” replied Chauvelin + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir. In this d—d hole I had lost count of time.” + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin, unlike his rough and blundering colleague, had been watching + the prisoner very closely for the last moment or two, conscious of a + subtle, undefinable change that had come over the man during those few + seconds while he, Chauvelin, had thought him dying. The pose was certainly + the old familiar one, the head erect, the hand clenched, the eyes looking + through and beyond the stone walls; but there was an air of listlessness + in the stoop of the shoulders, and—except for that one brief gleam + just now—a look of more complete weariness round the hollow eyes! To + the keen watcher it appeared as if that sense of living power, of + unconquered will and defiant mind was no longer there, and as if he + himself need no longer fear that almost supersensual thrill which had a + while ago kindled in him a vague sense of admiration—almost of + remorse. + </p> + <p> + Even as he gazed, Blakeney slowly turned his eyes full upon him. + Chauvelin’s heart gave a triumphant bound. + </p> + <p> + With a mocking smile he met the wearied look, the pitiable appeal. His + turn had come at last—his turn to mock and to exult. He knew that + what he was watching now was no longer the last phase of a long and noble + martyrdom; it was the end—the inevitable end—that for which he + had schemed and striven, for which he had schooled his heart to ferocity + and callousness that were devilish in their intensity. It was the end + indeed, the slow descent of a soul from the giddy heights of attempted + self-sacrifice, where it had striven to soar for a time, until the body + and the will both succumbed together and dragged it down with them into + the abyss of submission and of irreparable shame. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. SUBMISSION + </h2> + <p> + Silence reigned in the narrow cell for a few moments, whilst two human + jackals stood motionless over their captured prey. + </p> + <p> + A savage triumph gleamed in Chauvelin’s eyes, and even Heron, dull and + brutal though he was, had become vaguely conscious of the great change + that had come over the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney, with a gesture and a sigh of hopeless exhaustion had once more + rested both his elbows on the table; his head fell heavy and almost + lifeless downward in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Curse you, man!” cried Heron almost involuntarily. “Why in the name of + hell did you wait so long?” + </p> + <p> + Then, as the prisoner made no reply, but only raised his head slightly, + and looked on the other two men with dulled, wearied eyes, Chauvelin + interposed calmly: + </p> + <p> + “More than a fortnight has been wasted in useless obstinacy, Sir Percy. + Fortunately it is not too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Capet?” said Heron hoarsely, “tell us, where is Capet?” + </p> + <p> + He leaned across the table, his eyes were bloodshot with the keenness of + his excitement, his voice shook with the passionate desire for the + crowning triumph. + </p> + <p> + “If you’ll only not worry me,” murmured the prisoner; and the whisper came + so laboriously and so low that both men were forced to bend their ears + close to the scarcely moving lips; “if you will let me sleep and rest, and + leave me in peace—” + </p> + <p> + “The peace of the grave, man,” retorted Chauvelin roughly; “if you will + only speak. Where is Capet?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you; the way is long, the road—intricate.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll lead you to him, if you will give me rest.” + </p> + <p> + “We don’t want you to lead us anywhere,” growled Heron with a smothered + curse; “tell us where Capet is; we’ll find him right enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot explain; the way is intricate; the place off the beaten track, + unknown except to me and my friends.” + </p> + <p> + Once more that shadow, which was so like the passing of the hand of Death, + overspread the prisoner’s face; his head rolled back against the chair. + </p> + <p> + “He’ll die before he can speak,” muttered Chauvelin under his breath. “You + usually are well provided with brandy, citizen Heron.” + </p> + <p> + The latter no longer demurred. He saw the danger as clearly as did his + colleague. It had been hell’s own luck if the prisoner were to die now + when he seemed ready to give in. He produced a flask from the pocket of + his coat, and this he held to Blakeney’s lips. + </p> + <p> + “Beastly stuff,” murmured the latter feebly. “I think I’d sooner faint—than + drink.” + </p> + <p> + “Capet? where is Capet?” reiterated Heron impatiently. +</p> + <p> + “One—two—three + hundred leagues from here. + I must let one of my friends know; he’ll communicate with the others; they + must be prepared,” replied the prisoner slowly. + </p> + <p> + Heron uttered a blasphemous oath. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Capet? Tell us where Capet is, or—” + </p> + <p> + He was like a raging tiger that had thought to hold its prey and suddenly + realised that it was being snatched from him. He raised his fist, and + without doubt the next moment he would have silenced forever the lips that + held the precious secret, but Chauvelin fortunately was quick enough to + seize his wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Have a care, citizen,” he said peremptorily; “have a care! You called me + a fool just now when you thought I had killed the prisoner. It is his + secret we want first; his death can follow afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not in this d—d hole,” murmured Blakeney. + </p> + <p> + “On the guillotine if you’ll speak,” cried Heron, whose exasperation was + getting the better of his self-interest, “but if you’ll not speak then it + shall be starvation in this hole—yes, starvation,” he growled, + showing a row of large and uneven teeth like those of some mongrel cur, + “for I’ll have that door walled in to-night, and not another living soul + shall cross this threshold again until your flesh has rotted on your bones + and the rats have had their fill of you.” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner raised his head slowly, a shiver shook him as if caused by + ague, and his eyes, that appeared almost sightless, now looked with a + strange glance of horror on his enemy. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll die in the open,” he whispered, “not in this d—d hole.” + </p> + <p> + “Then tell us where Capet is.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot; I wish to God I could. But I’ll take you to him, I swear I + will. I’ll make my friends give him up to you. Do you think that I would + not tell you now, if I could.” + </p> + <p> + Heron, whose every instinct of tyranny revolted against this thwarting of + his will, would have continued to heckle the prisoner even now, had not + Chauvelin suddenly interposed with an authoritative gesture. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll gain nothing this way, citizen,” he said quietly; “the man’s mind + is wandering; he is probably quite unable to give you clear directions at + this moment.” + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do, then?” muttered the other roughly. + </p> + <p> + “He cannot live another twenty-four hours now, and would only grow more + and more helpless as time went on.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless you relax your strict regime with him.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I do we’ll only prolong this situation indefinitely; and in the + meanwhile how do we know that the brat is not being spirited away out of + the country?” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner, with his head once more buried in his arms, had fallen into + a kind of torpor, the only kind of sleep that the exhausted system would + allow. With a brutal gesture Heron shook him by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “He,” he shouted, “none of that, you know. We have not settled the matter + of young Capet yet.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as the prisoner made no movement, and the chief agent indulged in + one of his favourite volleys of oaths, Chauvelin placed a peremptory hand + on his colleague’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, citizen, that this is no use,” he said firmly. “Unless you + are prepared to give up all thoughts of finding Capet, you must try and + curb your temper, and try diplomacy where force is sure to fail.” + </p> + <p> + “Diplomacy?” retorted the other with a sneer. “Bah! it served you well at + Boulogne last autumn, did it not, citizen Chauvelin?” + </p> + <p> + “It has served me better now,” rejoined the other imperturbably. “You will + own, citizen, that it is my diplomacy which has placed within your reach + the ultimate hope of finding Capet.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” muttered the other, “you advised us to starve the prisoner. Are we + any nearer to knowing his secret?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. By a fortnight of weariness, of exhaustion and of starvation, you + are nearer to it by the weakness of the man whom in his full strength you + could never hope to conquer.” + </p> + <p> + “But if the cursed Englishman won’t speak, and in the meanwhile dies on my + hands—” + </p> + <p> + “He won’t do that if you will accede to his wish. Give him some good food + now, and let him sleep till dawn.” + </p> + <p> + “And at dawn he’ll defy me again. I believe now that he has some scheme in + his mind, and means to play us a trick.” + </p> + <p> + “That, I imagine, is more than likely,” retorted Chauvelin dryly; + “though,” he added with a contemptuous nod of the head directed at the + huddled-up figure of his once brilliant enemy, “neither mind nor body seem + to me to be in a sufficiently active state just now for hatching plot or + intrigue; but even if—vaguely floating through his clouded mind—there + has sprung some little scheme for evasion, I give you my word, citizen + Heron, that you can thwart him completely, and gain all that you desire, + if you will only follow my advice.” + </p> + <p> + There had always been a great amount of persuasive power in citizen + Chauvelin, ex-envoy of the revolutionary Government of France at the Court + of St. James, and that same persuasive eloquence did not fail now in its + effect on the chief agent of the Committee of General Security. The latter + was made of coarser stuff than his more brilliant colleague. Chauvelin was + like a wily and sleek panther that is furtive in its movements, that will + lure its prey, watch it, follow it with stealthy footsteps, and only + pounce on it when it is least wary, whilst Heron was more like a raging + bull that tosses its head in a blind, irresponsible fashion, rushes at an + obstacle without gauging its resisting powers, and allows its victim to + slip from beneath its weight through the very clumsiness and brutality of + its assault. + </p> + <p> + Still Chauvelin had two heavy black marks against him—those of his + failures at Calais and Boulogne. Heron, rendered cautious both by the + deadly danger in which he stood and the sense of his own incompetence to + deal with the present situation, tried to resist the other’s authority as + well as his persuasion. + </p> + <p> + “Your advice was not of great use to citizen Collot last autumn at + Boulogne,” he said, and spat on the ground by way of expressing both his + independence and his contempt. + </p> + <p> + “Still, citizen Heron,” retorted Chauvelin with unruffled patience, “it is + the best advice that you are likely to get in the present emergency. You + have eyes to see, have you not? Look on your prisoner at this moment. + Unless something is done, and at once, too, he will be past negotiating + with in the next twenty-four hours; then what will follow?” + </p> + <p> + He put his thin hand once more on his colleague’s grubby coat-sleeve, he + drew him closer to himself away from the vicinity of that huddled figure, + that captive lion, wrapped in a torpid somnolence that looked already so + like the last long sleep. + </p> + <p> + “What will follow, citizen Heron?” he reiterated, sinking his voice to a + whisper; “sooner or later some meddlesome busybody who sits in the + Assembly of the Convention will get wind that little Capet is no longer in + the Temple prison, that a pauper child was substituted for him, and that + you, citizen Heron, together with the commissaries in charge, have thus + been fooling the nation and its representatives for over a fortnight. What + will follow then, think you?” + </p> + <p> + And he made an expressive gesture with his outstretched fingers across his + throat. + </p> + <p> + Heron found no other answer but blasphemy. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll make that cursed Englishman speak yet,” he said with a fierce oath. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot,” retorted Chauvelin decisively. “In his present state he is + incapable of it, even if he would, which also is doubtful.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! then you do think that he still means to cheat us?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do. But I also know that he is no longer in a physical state to do + it. No doubt he thinks that he is. A man of that type is sure to overvalue + his own strength; but look at him, citizen Heron. Surely you must see that + we have nothing to fear from him now.” + </p> + <p> + Heron now was like a voracious creature that has two victims lying ready + for his gluttonous jaws. He was loath to let either of them go. He hated + the very thought of seeing the Englishman being led out of this narrow + cell, where he had kept a watchful eye over him night and day for a + fortnight, satisfied that with every day, every hour, the chances of + escape became more improbable and more rare; at the same time there was + the possibility of the recapture of little Capet, a possibility which made + Heron’s brain reel with the delightful vista of it, and which might never + come about if the prisoner remained silent to the end. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I were quite sure,” he said sullenly, “that you were body and soul + in accord with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am in accord with you, citizen Heron,” rejoined the other earnestly—“body + and soul in accord with you. Do you not believe that I hate this man—aye! + hate him with a hatred ten thousand times more strong than yours? I want + his death—Heaven or hell alone know how I long for that—but + what I long for most is his lasting disgrace. For that I have worked, + citizen Heron—for that I advised and helped you. When first you + captured this man you wanted summarily to try him, to send him to the + guillotine amidst the joy of the populace of Paris, and crowned with a + splendid halo of martyrdom. That man, citizen Heron, would have baffled + you, mocked you, and fooled you even on the steps of the scaffold. In the + zenith of his strength and of insurmountable good luck you and all your + myrmidons and all the assembled guard of Paris would have had no power + over him. The day that you led him out of this cell in order to take him + to trial or to the guillotine would have been that of your hopeless + discomfiture. Having once walked out of this cell hale, hearty and alert, + be the escort round him ever so strong, he never would have re-entered it + again. Of that I am as convinced as that I am alive. I know the man; you + don’t. Mine are not the only fingers through which he has slipped. Ask + citizen Collot d’Herbois, ask Sergeant Bibot at the barrier of + Menilmontant, ask General Santerre and his guards. They all have a tale to + tell. Did I believe in God or the devil, I should also believe that this + man has supernatural powers and a host of demons at his beck and call.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you talk now of letting him walk out of this cell to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a different man now, citizen Heron. On my advice you placed him on + a regime that has counteracted the supernatural power by simple physical + exhaustion, and driven to the four winds the host of demons who no doubt + fled in the face of starvation.” + </p> + <p> + “If only I thought that the recapture of Capet was as vital to you as it + is to me,” said Heron, still unconvinced. + </p> + <p> + “The capture of Capet is just as vital to me as it is to you,” rejoined + Chauvelin earnestly, “if it is brought about through the instrumentality + of the Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, looking intently on his colleague, whose shifty eyes + encountered his own. Thus eye to eye the two men at last understood one + another. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Heron with a snort, “I think I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure that you do,” responded Chauvelin dryly. “The disgrace of this + cursed Scarlet Pimpernel and his League is as vital to me, and more, as + the capture of Capet is to you. That is why I showed you the way how to + bring that meddlesome adventurer to his knees; that is why I will help you + now both to find Capet and with his aid and to wreak what reprisals you + like on him in the end.” + </p> + <p> + Heron before he spoke again cast one more look on the prisoner. The latter + had not stirred; his face was hidden, but the hands, emaciated, nerveless + and waxen, like those of the dead, told a more eloquent tale, mayhap, then + than the eyes could do. The chief agent of the Committee of General + Security walked deliberately round the table until he stood once more + close beside the man from whom he longed with passionate ardour to wrest + an all-important secret. With brutal, grimy hand he raised the head that + lay, sunken and inert, against the table; with callous eyes he gazed + attentively on the face that was then revealed to him, he looked on the + waxen flesh, the hollow eyes, the bloodless lips; then he shrugged his + wide shoulders, and with a laugh that surely must have caused joy in hell, + he allowed the wearied head to fall back against the outstretched arms, + and turned once again to his colleague. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are right, citizen Chauvelin,” he said; “there is not much + supernatural power here. Let me hear your advice.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. CHAUVELIN’S ADVICE + </h2> + <p> + Citizen Chauvelin had drawn his colleague with him to the end of the cell + that was farthest away from the recess, and the table at which the + prisoner was sitting. + </p> + <p> + Here the noise and hubbub that went on constantly in the guard room would + effectually drown a whispered conversation. Chauvelin called to the + sergeant to hand him a couple of chairs over the barrier. These he placed + against the wall opposite the opening, and beckoning Heron to sit down, he + did likewise, placing himself close to his colleague. + </p> + <p> + From where the two men now sat they could see both into the guard-room + opposite them and into the recess at the furthermost end of the cell. + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” began Chauvelin after a while, and sinking his voice to a + whisper, “let me understand you thoroughly, citizen Heron. Do you want the + death of the Englishman, either to-day or to-morrow, either in this prison + or on the guillotine? For that now is easy of accomplishment; or do you + want, above all, to get hold of little Capet?” + </p> + <p> + “It is Capet I want,” growled Heron savagely under his breath. “Capet! + Capet! My own neck is dependent on my finding Capet. Curse you, have I not + told you that clearly enough?” + </p> + <p> + “You have told it me very clearly, citizen Heron; but I wished to make + assurance doubly sure, and also make you understand that I, too, want the + Englishman to betray little Capet into your hands. I want that more even + than I do his death.” + </p> + <p> + “Then in the name of hell, citizen, give me your advice.” + </p> + <p> + “My advice to you, citizen Heron, is this: Give your prisoner now just a + sufficiency of food to revive him—he will have had a few moments’ + sleep—and when he has eaten, and, mayhap, drunk a glass of wine, he + will, no doubt, feel a recrudescence of strength, then give him pen and + ink and paper. He must, as he says, write to one of his followers, who, in + his turn, I suppose, will communicate with the others, bidding them to be + prepared to deliver up little Capet to us; the letter must make it clear + to that crowd of English gentlemen that their beloved chief is giving up + the uncrowned King of France to us in exchange for his own safety. But I + think you will agree with me, citizen Heron, that it would not be + over-prudent on our part to allow that same gallant crowd to be forewarned + too soon of the proposed doings of their chief. Therefore, I think, we’ll + explain to the prisoner that his follower, whom he will first apprise of + his intentions, shall start with us to-morrow on our expedition, and + accompany us until its last stage, when, if it is found necessary, he may + be sent on ahead, strongly escorted of course, and with personal messages + from the gallant Scarlet Pimpernel to the members of his League.” + </p> + <p> + “What will be the good of that?” broke in Heron viciously. “Do you want + one of his accursed followers to be ready to give him a helping hand on + the way if he tries to slip through our fingers?” + </p> + <p> + “Patience, patience, my good Heron!” rejoined Chauvelin with a placid + smile. “Hear me out to the end. Time is precious. You shall offer what + criticism you will when I have finished, but not before.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, then. I listen.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not only proposing that one member of the Scarlet Pimpernel League + shall accompany us to-morrow,” continued Chauvelin, “but I would also + force the prisoner’s wife—Marguerite Blakeney—to follow in our + train.” + </p> + <p> + “A woman? Bah! What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you the reason of this presently. In her case I should not + let the prisoner know beforehand that she too will form a part of our + expedition. Let this come as a pleasing surprise for him. She could join + us on our way out of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “How will you get hold of her?” + </p> + <p> + “Easily enough. I know where to find her. I traced her myself a few days + ago to a house in the Rue de Charonne, and she is not likely to have gone + away from Paris while her husband was at the Conciergerie. But this is a + digression, let me proceed more consecutively. The letter, as I have said, + being written to-night by the prisoner to one of his followers, I will + myself see that it is delivered into the right hands. You, citizen Heron, + will in the meanwhile make all arrangements for the journey. We ought to + start at dawn, and we ought to be prepared, especially during the first + fifty leagues of the way, against organised attack in case the Englishman + leads us into an ambush.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He might even do that, curse him!” muttered Heron. + </p> + <p> + “He might, but it is unlikely. Still it is best to be prepared. Take a + strong escort, citizen, say twenty or thirty men, picked and trained + soldiers who would make short work of civilians, however well-armed they + might be. There are twenty members—including the chief—in that + Scarlet Pimpernel League, and I do not quite see how from this cell the + prisoner could organise an ambuscade against us at a given time. Anyhow, + that is a matter for you to decide. I have still to place before you a + scheme which is a measure of safety for ourselves and our men against + ambush as well as against trickery, and which I feel sure you will + pronounce quite adequate.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me hear it, then!” + </p> + <p> + “The prisoner will have to travel by coach, of course. You can travel with + him, if you like, and put him in irons, and thus avert all chances of his + escaping on the road. But”—and here Chauvelin made a long pause, + which had the effect of holding his colleague’s attention still more + closely—“remember that we shall have his wife and one of his friends + with us. Before we finally leave Paris tomorrow we will explain to the + prisoner that at the first attempt to escape on his part, at the slightest + suspicion that he has tricked us for his own ends or is leading us into an + ambush—at the slightest suspicion, I say—you, citizen Heron, + will order his friend first, and then Marguerite Blakeney herself, to be + summarily shot before his eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Heron gave a long, low whistle. Instinctively he threw a furtive, backward + glance at the prisoner, then he raised his shifty eyes to his colleague. + </p> + <p> + There was unbounded admiration expressed in them. One blackguard had met + another—a greater one than himself—and was proud to + acknowledge him as his master. + </p> + <p> + “By Lucifer, citizen Chauvelin,” he said at last, “I should never have + thought of such a thing myself.” + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin put up his hand with a gesture of self-deprecation. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly think that measure ought to be adequate,” he said with a + gentle air of assumed modesty, “unless you would prefer to arrest the + woman and lodge her here, keeping her here as an hostage.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” said Heron with a gruff laugh; “that idea does not appeal to me + nearly so much as the other. I should not feel so secure on the way.... I + should always be thinking that that cursed woman had been allowed to + escape.... No! no! I would rather keep her under my own eye—just as + you suggest, citizen Chauvelin... and under the prisoner’s, too,” he added + with a coarse jest. “If he did not actually see her, he might be more + ready to try and save himself at her expense. But, of course, he could not + see her shot before his eyes. It is a perfect plan, citizen, and does you + infinite credit; and if the Englishman tricked us,” he concluded with a + fierce and savage oath, “and we did not find Capet at the end of the + journey, I would gladly strangle his wife and his friend with my own + hands.” + </p> + <p> + “A satisfaction which I would not begrudge you, citizen,” said Chauvelin + dryly. “Perhaps you are right... the woman had best be kept under your own + eye... the prisoner will never risk her safety on that, I would stake my + life. We’ll deliver our final ‘either—or’ the moment that she has + joined our party, and before we start further on our way. Now, citizen + Heron, you have heard my advice; are you prepared to follow it?” + </p> + <p> + “To the last letter,” replied the other. + </p> + <p> + And their two hands met in a grasp of mutual understanding—two hands + already indelibly stained with much innocent blood, more deeply stained + now with seventeen past days of inhumanity and miserable treachery to + come. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. CAPITULATION + </h2> + <p> + What occurred within the inner cell of the Conciergerie prison within the + next half-hour of that 16th day of Pluviose in the year II of the Republic + is, perhaps, too well known to history to need or bear overfull + repetition. + </p> + <p> + Chroniclers intimate with the inner history of those infamous days have + told us how the chief agent of the Committee of General Security gave + orders one hour after midnight that hot soup, white bread and wine be + served to the prisoner, who for close on fourteen days previously had been + kept on short rations of black bread and water; the sergeant in charge of + the guard-room watch for the night also received strict orders that that + same prisoner was on no account to be disturbed until the hour of six in + the morning, when he was to be served with anything in the way of + breakfast that he might fancy. + </p> + <p> + All this we know, and also that citizen Heron, having given all necessary + orders for the morning’s expedition, returned to the Conciergerie, and + found his colleague Chauvelin waiting for him in the guard-room. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he asked with febrile impatience—“the prisoner?” + </p> + <p> + “He seems better and stronger,” replied Chauvelin. + </p> + <p> + “Not too well, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, only just well enough.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen him—since his supper?” + </p> + <p> + “Only from the doorway. It seems he ate and drank hardly at all, and the + sergeant had some difficulty in keeping him awake until you came.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now for the letter,” concluded Heron with the same marked + feverishness of manner which sat so curiously on his uncouth personality. + “Pen, ink and paper, sergeant!” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + “On the table, in the prisoner’s cell, citizen,” replied the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + He preceded the two citizens across the guard-room to the doorway, and + raised for them the iron bar, lowering it back after them. + </p> + <p> + The next moment Heron and Chauvelin were once more face to face with their + prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Whether by accident or design the lamp had been so placed that as the two + men approached its light fell full upon their faces, while that of the + prisoner remained in shadow. He was leaning forward with both elbows on + the table, his thin, tapering fingers toying with the pen and ink-horn + which had been placed close to his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I trust that everything has been arranged for your comfort, Sir Percy?” + Chauvelin asked with a sarcastic little smile. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir,” replied Blakeney politely. + </p> + <p> + “You feel refreshed, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Greatly so, I assure you. But I am still demmed sleepy; and if you would + kindly be brief—” + </p> + <p> + “You have not changed your mind, sir?” queried Chauvelin, and a note of + anxiety, which he vainly tried to conceal, quivered in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “No, my good M. Chambertin,” replied Blakeney with the same urbane + courtesy, “I have not changed my mind.” + </p> + <p> + A sigh of relief escaped the lips of both the men. The prisoner certainly + had spoken in a clearer and firmer voice; but whatever renewed strength + wine and food had imparted to him he apparently did not mean to employ in + renewed obstinacy. Chauvelin, after a moment’s pause, resumed more calmly: + </p> + <p> + “You are prepared to direct us to the place where little Capet lies + hidden?” + </p> + <p> + “I am prepared to do anything, sir, to get out of this d—d hole.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. My colleague, citizen Heron, has arranged for an escort of + twenty men picked from the best regiment of the Garde de Paris to + accompany us—yourself, him and me—to wherever you will direct + us. Is that clear?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not imagine for a moment that we, on the other hand, guarantee + to give you your life and freedom even if this expedition prove + unsuccessful.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not venture on suggesting such a wild proposition, sir,” said + Blakeney placidly. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin looked keenly on him. There was something in the tone of that + voice that he did not altogether like—something that reminded him of + an evening at Calais, and yet again of a day at Boulogne. He could not + read the expression in the eyes, so with a quick gesture he pulled the + lamp forward so that its light now fell full on the face of the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is certainly better, is it not, my dear M. Chambertin?” said Sir + Percy, beaming on his adversary with a pleasant smile. + </p> + <p> + His face, though still of the same ashen hue, looked serene if hopelessly + wearied; the eyes seemed to mock. But this Chauvelin decided in himself + must have been a trick of his own overwrought fancy. After a brief + moment’s pause he resumed dryly: + </p> + <p> + “If, however, the expedition turns out successful in every way—if + little Capet, without much trouble to our escort, falls safe and sound + into our hands—if certain contingencies which I am about to tell you + all fall out as we wish—then, Sir Percy, I see no reason why the + Government of this country should not exercise its prerogative of mercy + towards you after all.” + </p> + <p> + “An exercise, my dear M. Chambertin, which must have wearied through + frequent repetition,” retorted Blakeney with the same imperturbable smile. + </p> + <p> + “The contingency at present is somewhat remote; when the time comes we’ll + talk this matter over.... I will make no promise... and, anyhow, we can + discuss it later.” + </p> + <p> + “At present we are but wasting our valuable time over so trifling a + matter.... If you’ll excuse me, sir... I am so demmed fatigued—” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will be glad to have everything settled quickly, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Heron was taking no part in the present conversation. He knew that his + temper was not likely to remain within bounds, and though he had nothing + but contempt for his colleague’s courtly manners, yet vaguely in his + stupid, blundering way he grudgingly admitted that mayhap it was better to + allow citizen Chauvelin to deal with the Englishman. There was always the + danger that if his own violent temper got the better of him, he might even + at this eleventh hour order this insolent prisoner to summary trial and + the guillotine, and thus lose the final chance of the more important + capture. + </p> + <p> + He was sprawling on a chair in his usual slouching manner with his big + head sunk between his broad shoulders, his shifty, prominent eyes + wandering restlessly from the face of his colleague to that of the other + man. + </p> + <p> + But now he gave a grunt of impatience. + </p> + <p> + “We are wasting time, citizen Chauvelin,” he muttered. “I have still a + great deal to see to if we are to start at dawn. Get the d—d letter + written, and—” + </p> + <p> + The rest of the phrase was lost in an indistinct and surly murmur. + Chauvelin, after a shrug of the shoulders, paid no further heed to him; he + turned, bland and urbane, once more to the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “I see with pleasure, Sir Percy,” he said, “that we thoroughly understand + one another. Having had a few hours’ rest you will, I know, feel quite + ready for the expedition. Will you kindly indicate to me the direction in + which we will have to travel?” + </p> + <p> + “Northwards all the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Towards the coast?” + </p> + <p> + “The place to which we must go is about seven leagues from the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Our first objective then will be Beauvais, Amiens, Abbeville, Crecy, and + so on?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “As far as the forest of Boulogne, shall we say?” + </p> + <p> + “Where we shall come off the beaten track, and you will have to trust to + my guidance.” + </p> + <p> + “We might go there now, Sir Percy, and leave you here.” + </p> + <p> + “You might. But you would not then find the child. Seven leagues is not + far from the coast. He might slip through your fingers.” + </p> + <p> + “And my colleague Heron, being disappointed, would inevitably send you to + the guillotine.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” rejoined the prisoner placidly. “Methought, sir, that we had + decided that I should lead this little expedition? Surely,” he added, “it + is not so much the Dauphin whom you want as my share in this betrayal.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right as usual, Sir Percy. Therefore let us take that as settled. + We go as far as Crecy, and thence place ourselves entirely in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “The journey should not take more than three days, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “During which you will travel in a coach in the company of my friend + Heron.” + </p> + <p> + “I could have chosen pleasanter company, sir; still, it will serve.” + </p> + <p> + “This being settled, Sir Percy. I understand that you desire to + communicate with one of your followers.” + </p> + <p> + “Some one must let the others know... those who have the Dauphin in their + charge.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so. Therefore I pray you write to one of your friends that you have + decided to deliver the Dauphin into our hands in exchange for your own + safety.” + </p> + <p> + “You said just now that this you would not guarantee,” interposed Blakeney + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “If all turns out well,” retorted Chauvelin with a show of contempt, “and + if you will write the exact letter which I shall dictate, we might even + give you that guarantee.” + </p> + <p> + “The quality of your mercy, sir, passes belief.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I pray you write. Which of your followers will have the honour of + the communication?” + </p> + <p> + “My brother-in-law, Armand St. Just; he is still in Paris, I believe. He + can let the others know.” + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin made no immediate reply. He paused awhile, hesitating. Would Sir + Percy Blakeney be ready—if his own safety demanded it—to + sacrifice the man who had betrayed him? In the momentous “either—or” + that was to be put to him, by-and-by, would he choose his own life and + leave Armand St. Just to perish? It was not for Chauvelin—or any man + of his stamp—to judge of what Blakeney would do under such + circumstances, and had it been a question of St. Just alone, mayhap + Chauvelin would have hesitated still more at the present juncture. + </p> + <p> + But the friend as hostage was only destined to be a minor leverage for the + final breaking-up of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel through the + disgrace of its chief. There was the wife—Marguerite Blakeney—sister + of St. Just, joint and far more important hostage, whose very close + affection for her brother might prove an additional trump card in that + handful which Chauvelin already held. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney paid no heed seemingly to the other’s hesitation. He did not even + look up at him, but quietly drew pen and paper towards him, and made ready + to write. + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish me to say?” he asked simply. + </p> + <p> + “Will that young blackguard answer your purpose, citizen Chauvelin?” + queried Heron roughly. + </p> + <p> + Obviously the same doubt had crossed his mind. Chauvelin quickly + re-assured him. + </p> + <p> + “Better than any one else,” he said firmly. “Will you write at my + dictation, Sir Percy? + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting to do so, my dear sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Begin your letter as you wish, then; now continue.” + </p> + <p> + And he began to dictate slowly, watching every word as it left Blakeney’s + pen. + </p> + <p> + “‘I cannot stand my present position any longer. Citizen Heron, and also + M. Chauvelin—’ Yes, Sir Percy, Chauvelin, not Chambertin ... C, H, + A, U, V, E, L, I, N.... That is quite right— ‘have made this prison + a perfect hell for me.’” + </p> + <p> + Sir Percy looked up from his writing, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “You wrong yourself, my dear M. Chambertin!” he said; “I have really been + most comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to place the matter before your friends in as indulgent a manner + as I can,” retorted Chauvelin dryly. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir. Pray proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “...‘a perfect hell for me,’” resumed the other. “Have you that? ... ‘and + I have been forced to give way. To-morrow we start from here at dawn; and + I will guide citizen Heron to the place where he can find the Dauphin. But + the authorities demand that one of my followers, one who has once been a + member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel, shall accompany me on this + expedition. I therefore ask you’—or ‘desire you’ or ‘beg you’—whichever + you prefer, Sir Percy...” + </p> + <p> + “‘Ask you’ will do quite nicely. This is really very interesting, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “... ‘to be prepared to join the expedition. We start at dawn, and you + would be required to be at the main gate of the house of Justice at six + o’clock precisely. I have an assurance from the authorities that your life + should be in-violate, but if you refuse to accompany me, the guillotine + will await me on the morrow.’” + </p> + <p> + “‘The guillotine will await me on the morrow.’ That sounds quite cheerful, + does it not, M. Chambertin?” said the prisoner, who had not evinced the + slightest surprise at the wording of the letter whilst he wrote at the + other’s dictation. “Do you know, I quite enjoyed writing this letter; it + so reminded me of happy days in Boulogne.” + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin pressed his lips together. Truly now he felt that a retort from + him would have been undignified, more especially as just at this moment + there came from the guard room the sound of men’s voices talking and + laughing, the occasional clang of steel, or of a heavy boot against the + tiled floor, the rattling of dice, or a sudden burst of laughter—sounds, + in fact, that betokened the presence of a number of soldiers close by. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin contented himself with a nod in the direction of the guard-room. + </p> + <p> + “The conditions are somewhat different now,” he said placidly, “from those + that reigned in Boulogne. But will you not sign your letter, Sir Percy?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, sir,” responded Blakeney, as with an elaborate flourish of + the pen he appended his name to the missive. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin was watching him with eyes that would have shamed a lynx by + their keenness. He took up the completed letter, read it through very + carefully, as if to find some hidden meaning behind the very words which + he himself had dictated; he studied the signature, and looked vainly for a + mark or a sign that might convey a different sense to that which he had + intended. Finally, finding none, he folded the letter up with his own + hand, and at once slipped it in the pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Take care, M. Chambertin,” said Blakeney lightly; “it will burn a hole in + that elegant vest of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “It will have no time to do that, Sir Percy,” retorted Chauvelin blandly; + “an you will furnish me with citizen St. Just’s present address, I will + myself convey the letter to him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “At this hour of the night? Poor old Armand, he’ll be abed. But his + address, sir, is No. 32, Rue de la Croix Blanche, on the first floor, the + door on your right as you mount the stairs; you know the room well, + citizen Chauvelin; you have been in it before. And now,” he added with a + loud and ostentatious yawn, “shall we all to bed? We start at dawn, you + said, and I am so d—d fatigued.” + </p> + <p> + Frankly, he did not look it now. Chauvelin himself, despite his matured + plans, despite all the precautions that he meant to take for the success + of this gigantic scheme, felt a sudden strange sense of fear creeping into + his bones. Half an hour ago he had seen a man in what looked like the last + stage of utter physical exhaustion, a hunched up figure, listless and + limp, hands that twitched nervously, the face as of a dying man. Now those + outward symptoms were still there certainly; the face by the light of the + lamp still looked livid, the lips bloodless, the hands emaciated and + waxen, but the eyes!—they were still hollow, with heavy lids still + purple, but in their depths there was a curious, mysterious light, a look + that seemed to see something that was hidden to natural sight. + </p> + <p> + Citizen Chauvelin thought that Heron, too, must be conscious of this, but + the Committee’s agent was sprawling on a chair, sucking a short-stemmed + pipe, and gazing with entire animal satisfaction on the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “The most perfect piece of work we have ever accomplished, you and I, + citizen Chauvelin,” he said complacently. + </p> + <p> + “You think that everything is quite satisfactory?” asked the other with + anxious stress on his words. + </p> + <p> + “Everything, of course. Now you see to the letter. I will give final + orders for to-morrow, but I shall sleep in the guard-room.” + </p> + <p> + “And I on that inviting bed,” interposed the prisoner lightly, as he rose + to his feet. “Your servant, citizens!” + </p> + <p> + He bowed his head slightly, and stood by the table whilst the two men + prepared to go. Chauvelin took a final long look at the man whom he firmly + believed he had at last brought down to abject disgrace. + </p> + <p> + Blakeney was standing erect, watching the two retreating figures—one + slender hand was on the table. Chauvelin saw that it was leaning rather + heavily, as if for support, and that even whilst a final mocking laugh + sped him and his colleague on their way, the tall figure of the conquered + lion swayed like a stalwart oak that is forced to bend to the mighty fury + of an all-compelling wind. + </p> + <p> + With a sigh of content Chauvelin took his colleague by the arm, and + together the two men walked out of the cell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX. KILL HIM! + </h2> + <p> + Two hours after midnight Armand St. Just was wakened from sleep by a + peremptory pull at his bell. In these days in Paris but one meaning could + as a rule be attached to such a summons at this hour of the night, and + Armand, though possessed of an unconditional certificate of safety, sat up + in bed, quite convinced that for some reason which would presently be + explained to him he had once more been placed on the list of the + “suspect,” and that his trial and condemnation on a trumped-up charge + would follow in due course. + </p> + <p> + Truth to tell, he felt no fear at the prospect, and only a very little + sorrow. The sorrow was not for himself; he regretted neither life nor + happiness. Life had become hateful to him since happiness had fled with it + on the dark wings of dishonour; sorrow such as he felt was only for + Jeanne! She was very young, and would weep bitter tears. She would be + unhappy, because she truly loved him, and because this would be the first + cup of bitterness which life was holding out to her. But she was very + young, and sorrow would not be eternal. It was better so. He, Armand St. + Just, though he loved her with an intensity of passion that had been + magnified and strengthened by his own overwhelming shame, had never really + brought his beloved one single moment of unalloyed happiness. + </p> + <p> + From the very first day when he sat beside her in the tiny boudoir of the + Square du Roule, and the heavy foot fall of Heron and his bloodhounds + broke in on their first kiss, down to this hour which he believed struck + his own death-knell, his love for her had brought more tears to her dear + eyes than smiles to her exquisite mouth. + </p> + <p> + Her he had loved so dearly, that for her sweet sake he had sacrificed + honour, friendship and truth; to free her, as he believed, from the hands + of impious brutes he had done a deed that cried Cain-like for vengeance to + the very throne of God. For her he had sinned, and because of that sin, + even before it was committed, their love had been blighted, and happiness + had never been theirs. + </p> + <p> + Now it was all over. He would pass out of her life, up the steps of the + scaffold, tasting as he mounted them the most entire happiness that he had + known since that awful day when he became a Judas. + </p> + <p> + The peremptory summons, once more repeated, roused him from his + meditations. He lit a candle, and without troubling to slip any of his + clothes on, he crossed the narrow ante-chamber, and opened the door that + gave on the landing. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of the people!” + </p> + <p> + He had expected to hear not only those words, but also the grounding of + arms and the brief command to halt. He had expected to see before him the + white facings of the uniform of the Garde de Paris, and to feel himself + roughly pushed back into his lodging preparatory to the search being made + of all his effects and the placing of irons on his wrists. + </p> + <p> + Instead of this, it was a quiet, dry voice that said without undue + harshness: + </p> + <p> + “In the name of the people!” + </p> + <p> + And instead of the uniforms, the bayonets and the scarlet caps with + tricolour cockades, he was confronted by a slight, sable-clad figure, + whose face, lit by the flickering light of the tallow candle, looked + strangely pale and earnest. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen Chauvelin!” gasped Armand, more surprised than frightened at this + unexpected apparition. + </p> + <p> + “Himself, citizen, at your service,” replied Chauvelin with his quiet, + ironical manner. “I am the bearer of a letter for you from Sir Percy + Blakeney. Have I your permission to enter?” + </p> + <p> + Mechanically Armand stood aside, allowing the other man to pass in. He + closed the door behind his nocturnal visitor, then, taper in hand, he + preceded him into the inner room. + </p> + <p> + It was the same one in which a fortnight ago a fighting lion had been + brought to his knees. Now it lay wrapped in gloom, the feeble light of the + candle only lighting Armand’s face and the white frill of his shirt. The + young man put the taper down on the table and turned to his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I light the lamp?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Quite unnecessary,” replied Chauvelin curtly. “I have only a letter to + deliver, and after that to ask you one brief question.” + </p> + <p> + From the pocket of his coat he drew the letter which Blakeney had written + an hour ago. + </p> + <p> + “The prisoner wrote this in my presence,” he said as he handed the letter + over to Armand. “Will you read it?” + </p> + <p> + Armand took it from him, and sat down close to the table; leaning forward + he held the paper near the light, and began to read. He read the letter + through very slowly to the end, then once again from the beginning. He was + trying to do that which Chauvelin had wished to do an hour ago; he was + trying to find the inner meaning which he felt must inevitably lie behind + these words which Percy had written with his own hand. + </p> + <p> + That these bare words were but a blind to deceive the enemy Armand never + doubted for a moment. In this he was as loyal as Marguerite would have + been herself. Never for a moment did the suspicion cross his mind that + Blakeney was about to play the part of a coward, but he, Armand, felt that + as a faithful friend and follower he ought by instinct to know exactly + what his chief intended, what he meant him to do. + </p> + <p> + Swiftly his thoughts flew back to that other letter, the one which + Marguerite had given him—the letter full of pity and of friendship + which had brought him hope and a joy and peace which he had thought at one + time that he would never know again. And suddenly one sentence in that + letter stood out so clearly before his eyes that it blurred the actual, + tangible ones on the paper which even now rustled in his hand. + </p> + <p> + But if at any time you receive another letter from me—be its + contents what they may—act in accordance with the letter, but send a + copy of it at once to Ffoulkes or to Marguerite. + </p> + <p> + Now everything seemed at once quite clear; his duty, his next actions, + every word that he would speak to Chauvelin. Those that Percy had written + to him were already indelibly graven on his memory. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin had waited with his usual patience, silent and imperturbable, + while the young man read. Now when he saw that Armand had finished, he + said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “Just one question, citizen, and I need not detain you longer. But first + will you kindly give me back that letter? It is a precious document which + will for ever remain in the archives of the nation.” + </p> + <p> + But even while he spoke Armand, with one of those quick intuitions that + come in moments of acute crisis, had done just that which he felt Blakeney + would wish him to do. He had held the letter close to the candle. A corner + of the thin crisp paper immediately caught fire, and before Chauvelin + could utter a word of anger, or make a movement to prevent the + conflagration, the flames had licked up fully one half of the letter, and + Armand had only just time to throw the remainder on the floor and to stamp + out the blaze with his foot. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, citizen,” he said calmly; “an accident.” + </p> + <p> + “A useless act of devotion,” interposed Chauvelin, who already had + smothered the oath that had risen to his lips. “The Scarlet Pimpernel’s + actions in the present matter will not lose their merited publicity + through the foolish destruction of this document.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no thought, citizen,” retorted the young man, “of commenting on the + actions of my chief, or of trying to deny them that publicity which you + seem to desire for them almost as much as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “More, citizen, a great deal more! The impeccable Scarlet Pimpernel, the + noble and gallant English gentleman, has agreed to deliver into our hands + the uncrowned King of France—in exchange for his own life and + freedom. Methinks that even his worst enemy would not wish for a better + ending to a career of adventure, and a reputation for bravery unequalled + in Europe. But no more of this, time is pressing, I must help citizen + Heron with his final preparations for his journey. You, of course, citizen + St. Just, will act in accordance with Sir Percy Blakeney’s wishes?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” replied Armand. + </p> + <p> + “You will present yourself at the main entrance of the house of Justice at + six o’clock this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not fail you.” + </p> + <p> + “A coach will be provided for you. You will follow the expedition as + hostage for the good faith of your chief.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite understand.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! That’s brave! You have no fear, citizen St. Just?” + </p> + <p> + “Fear of what, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be a hostage in our hands, citizen; your life a guarantee that + your chief has no thought of playing us false. Now I was thinking of—of + certain events—which led to the arrest of Sir Percy Blakeney.” + </p> + <p> + “Of my treachery, you mean,” rejoined the young man calmly, even though + his face had suddenly become pale as death. “Of the damnable lie wherewith + you cheated me into selling my honour, and made me what I am—a + creature scarce fit to walk upon this earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” protested Chauvelin blandly. + </p> + <p> + “The damnable lie,” continued Armand more vehemently, “that hath made me + one with Cain and the Iscariot. When you goaded me into the hellish act, + Jeanne Lange was already free.” + </p> + <p> + “Free—but not safe.” + </p> + <p> + “A lie, man! A lie! For which you are thrice accursed. Great God, is it + not you that should have cause for fear? Methinks were I to strangle you + now I should suffer less of remorse.” + </p> + <p> + “And would be rendering your ex-chief but a sorry service,” interposed + Chauvelin with quiet irony. “Sir Percy Blakeney is a dying man, citizen + St. Just; he’ll be a dead man at dawn if I do not put in an appearance by + six o’clock this morning. This is a private understanding between citizen + Heron and myself. We agreed to it before I came to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you take care of your own miserable skin well enough! But you need + not be afraid of me—I take my orders from my chief, and he has not + ordered me to kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “That was kind of him. Then we may count on you? You are not afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid that the Scarlet Pimpernel would leave me in the lurch because of + the immeasurable wrong I have done to him?” retorted Armand, proud and + defiant in the name of his chief. “No, sir, I am not afraid of that; I + have spent the last fortnight in praying to God that my life might yet be + given for his.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! I think it most unlikely that your prayers will be granted, citizen; + prayers, I imagine, so very seldom are; but I don’t know, I never pray + myself. In your case, now, I should say that you have not the slightest + chance of the Deity interfering in so pleasant a manner. Even were Sir + Percy Blakeney prepared to wreak personal revenge on you, he would + scarcely be so foolish as to risk the other life which we shall also hold + as hostage for his good faith.” + </p> + <p> + “The other life?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Your sister, Lady Blakeney, will also join the expedition to-morrow. + This Sir Percy does not yet know; but it will come as a pleasant surprise + for him. At the slightest suspicion of false play on Sir Percy’s part, at + his slightest attempt at escape, your life and that of your sister are + forfeit; you will both be summarily shot before his eyes. I do not think + that I need be more precise, eh, citizen St. Just?” + </p> + <p> + The young man was quivering with passion. A terrible loathing for himself, + for his crime which had been the precursor of this terrible situation, + filled his soul to the verge of sheer physical nausea. A red film gathered + before his eyes, and through it he saw the grinning face of the inhuman + monster who had planned this hideous, abominable thing. It seemed to him + as if in the silence and the hush of the night, above the feeble, + flickering flame that threw weird shadows around, a group of devils were + surrounding him, and were shouting, “Kill him! Kill him now! Rid the earth + of this hellish brute!” + </p> + <p> + No doubt if Chauvelin had exhibited the slightest sign of fear, if he had + moved an inch towards the door, Armand, blind with passion, driven to + madness by agonising remorse more even than by rage, would have sprung at + his enemy’s throat and crushed the life out of him as he would out of a + venomous beast. But the man’s calm, his immobility, recalled St. Just to + himself. Reason, that had almost yielded to passion again, found strength + to drive the enemy back this time, to whisper a warning, an admonition, + even a reminder. Enough harm, God knows, had been done by tempestuous + passion already. And God alone knew what terrible consequences its triumph + now might bring in its trial, and striking on Armand’s buzzing ears + Chauvelin’s words came back as a triumphant and mocking echo: + </p> + <p> + “He’ll be a dead man at dawn if I do not put in an appearance by six + o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + The red film lifted, the candle flickered low, the devils vanished, only + the pale face of the Terrorist gazed with gentle irony out of the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “I think that I need not detain you any longer, citizen, St. Just,” he + said quietly; “you can get three or four hours’ rest yet before you need + make a start, and I still have a great many things to see to. I wish you + good-night, citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” murmured Armand mechanically. + </p> + <p> + He took the candle and escorted his visitor back to the door. He waited on + the landing, taper in hand, while Chauvelin descended the narrow, winding + stairs. + </p> + <p> + There was a light in the concierge’s lodge. No doubt the woman had struck + it when the nocturnal visitor had first demanded admittance. His name and + tricolour scarf of office had ensured him the full measure of her + attention, and now she was evidently sitting up waiting to let him out. + </p> + <p> + St. Just, satisfied that Chauvelin had finally gone, now turned back to + his own rooms. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. GOD HELP US ALL + </h2> + <p> + He carefully locked the outer door. Then he lit the lamp, for the candle + gave but a flickering light, and he had some important work to do. + </p> + <p> + Firstly, he picked up the charred fragment of the letter, and smoothed it + out carefully and reverently as he would a relic. Tears had gathered in + his eyes, but he was not ashamed of them, for no one saw them; but they + eased his heart, and helped to strengthen his resolve. It was a mere + fragment that had been spared by the flame, but Armand knew every word of + the letter by heart. + </p> + <p> + He had pen, ink and paper ready to his hand, and from memory wrote out a + copy of it. To this he added a covering letter from himself to Marguerite: + </p> + <p> + This—which I had from Percy through the hands of Chauvelin—I + neither question nor understand.... He wrote the letter, and I have no + thought but to obey. In his previous letter to me he enjoined me, if ever + he wrote to me again, to obey him implicitly, and to communicate with you. + To both these commands do I submit with a glad heart. But of this must I + give you warning, little mother—Chauvelin desires you also to + accompany us to-morrow.... Percy does not know this yet, else he would + never start. But those fiends fear that his readiness is a blind... and + that he has some plan in his head for his own escape and the continued + safety of the Dauphin.... This plan they hope to frustrate through holding + you and me as hostages for his good faith. God only knows how gladly I + would give my life for my chief... but your life, dear little mother... is + sacred above all.... I think that I do right in warning you. God help us + all. + </p> + <p> + Having written the letter, he sealed it, together with the copy of Percy’s + letter which he had made. Then he took up the candle and went downstairs. + </p> + <p> + There was no longer any light in the concierge’s lodge, and Armand had + some difficulty in making himself heard. At last the woman came to the + door. She was tired and cross after two interruptions of her night’s rest, + but she had a partiality for her young lodger, whose pleasant ways and + easy liberality had been like a pale ray of sunshine through the squalor + of every-day misery. + </p> + <p> + “It is a letter, citoyenne,” said Armand, with earnest entreaty, “for my + sister. She lives in the Rue de Charonne, near the fortifications, and + must have it within an hour; it is a matter of life and death to her, to + me, and to another who is very dear to us both.” + </p> + <p> + The concierge threw up her hands in horror. + </p> + <p> + “Rue de Charonne, near the fortifications,” she exclaimed, “and within an + hour! By the Holy Virgin, citizen, that is impossible. Who will take it? + There is no way.” + </p> + <p> + “A way must be found, citoyenne,” said Armand firmly, “and at once; it is + not far, and there are five golden louis waiting for the messenger!” + </p> + <p> + Five golden louis! The poor, hardworking woman’s eyes gleamed at the + thought. Five louis meant food for at least two months if one was careful, + and— + </p> + <p> + “Give me the letter, citizen,” she said, “time to slip on a warm petticoat + and a shawl, and I’ll go myself. It’s not fit for the boy to go at this + hour.” + </p> + <p> + “You will bring me back a line from my sister in reply to this,” said + Armand, whom circumstances had at last rendered cautious. “Bring it up to + my rooms that I may give you the five louis in exchange.” + </p> + <p> + He waited while the woman slipped back into her room. She heard him + speaking to her boy; the same lad who a fortnight ago had taken the + treacherous letter which had lured Blakeney to the house into the fatal + ambuscade that had been prepared for him. Everything reminded Armand of + that awful night, every hour that he had since spent in the house had been + racking torture to him. Now at last he was to leave it, and on an errand + which might help to ease the load of remorse from his heart. + </p> + <p> + The woman was soon ready. Armand gave her final directions as to how to + find the house; then she took the letter and promised to be very quick, + and to bring back a reply from the lady. + </p> + <p> + Armand accompanied her to the door. The night was dark, a thin drizzle was + falling; he stood and watched until the woman’s rapidly walking figure was + lost in the misty gloom. + </p> + <p> + Then with a heavy sigh he once more went within. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. WHEN HOPE WAS DEAD + </h2> + <p> + In a small upstairs room in the Rue de Charonne, above the shop of Lucas + the old-clothes dealer, Marguerite sat with Sir Andrew Ffoulkes. Armand’s + letter, with its message and its warning, lay open on the table between + them, and she had in her hand the sealed packet which Percy had given her + just ten days ago, and which she was only to open if all hope seemed to be + dead, if nothing appeared to stand any longer between that one dear life + and irretrievable shame. + </p> + <p> + A small lamp placed on the table threw a feeble yellow light on the + squalid, ill-furnished room, for it lacked still an hour or so before + dawn. Armand’s concierge had brought her lodger’s letter, and Marguerite + had quickly despatched a brief reply to him, a reply that held love and + also encouragement. + </p> + <p> + Then she had summoned Sir Andrew. He never had a thought of leaving her + during these days of dire trouble, and he had lodged all this while in a + tiny room on the top-most floor of this house in the Rue de Charonne. + </p> + <p> + At her call he had come down very quickly, and now they sat together at + the table, with the oil-lamp illumining their pale, anxious faces; she the + wife and he the friend holding a consultation together in this most + miserable hour that preceded the cold wintry dawn. + </p> + <p> + Outside a thin, persistent rain mixed with snow pattered against the small + window panes, and an icy wind found out all the crevices in the worm-eaten + woodwork that would afford it ingress to the room. But neither Marguerite + nor Ffoulkes was conscious of the cold. They had wrapped their cloaks + round their shoulders, and did not feel the chill currents of air that + caused the lamp to flicker and to smoke. + </p> + <p> + “I can see now,” said Marguerite in that calm voice which comes so + naturally in moments of infinite despair—“I can see now exactly what + Percy meant when he made me promise not to open this packet until it + seemed to me—to me and to you, Sir Andrew—that he was about to + play the part of a coward. A coward! Great God!” She checked the sob that + had risen to her throat, and continued in the same calm manner and quiet, + even voice: + </p> + <p> + “You do think with me, do you not, that the time has come, and that we + must open this packet?” + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt, Lady Blakeney,” replied Ffoulkes with equal earnestness. + “I would stake my life that already a fortnight ago Blakeney had that same + plan in his mind which he has now matured. Escape from that awful + Conciergerie prison with all the precautions so carefully taken against it + was impossible. I knew that alas! from the first. But in the open all + might yet be different. I’ll not believe it that a man like Blakeney is + destined to perish at the hands of those curs.” + </p> + <p> + She looked on her loyal friend with tear-dimmed eyes through which shone + boundless gratitude and heart-broken sorrow. + </p> + <p> + He had spoken of a fortnight! It was ten days since she had seen Percy. It + had then seemed as if death had already marked him with its grim sign. + Since then she had tried to shut away from her mind the terrible visions + which her anguish constantly conjured up before her of his growing + weakness, of the gradual impairing of that brilliant intellect, the + gradual exhaustion of that mighty physical strength. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Sir Andrew, for your enthusiasm and for your trust,” she + said with a sad little smile; “but for you I should long ago have lost all + courage, and these last ten days—what a cycle of misery they + represent—would have been maddening but for your help and your + loyalty. God knows I would have courage for everything in life, for + everything save one, but just that, his death; that would be beyond my + strength—neither reason nor body could stand it. Therefore, I am so + afraid, Sir Andrew,” she added piteously. + </p> + <p> + “Of what, Lady Blakeney?” + </p> + <p> + “That when he knows that I too am to go as hostage, as Armand says in his + letter, that my life is to be guarantee for his, I am afraid that he will draw + back—that he will—my God!” she cried with sudden fervour, + “tell me what to do!” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we open the packet?” asked Ffoulkes gently, “and then just make up + our minds to act exactly as Blakeney has enjoined us to do, neither more + nor less, but just word for word, deed for deed, and I believe that that + will be right—whatever may betide—in the end.” + </p> + <p> + Once more his quiet strength, his earnestness and his faith comforted her. + She dried her eyes and broke open the seal. There were two separate + letters in the packet, one unaddressed, obviously intended for her and + Ffoulkes, the other was addressed to M. le baron Jean de Batz, 15, Rue St. + Jean de Latran a Paris. + </p> + <p> + “A letter addressed to that awful Baron de Batz,” said Marguerite, looking + with puzzled eyes on the paper as she turned it over and over in her hand, + “to that bombastic windbag! I know him and his ways well! What can Percy + have to say to him?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew too looked puzzled. But neither of them had the mind to waste + time in useless speculations. Marguerite unfolded the letter which was + intended for her, and after a final look on her friend, whose kind face + was quivering with excitement, she began slowly to read aloud: + </p> + <p> + I need not ask either of you two to trust me, knowing that you will. But I + could not die inside this hole like a rat in a trap—I had to try and + free myself, at the worst to die in the open beneath God’s sky. You two + will understand, and understanding you will trust me to the end. Send the + enclosed letter at once to its address. And you, Ffoulkes, my most sincere + and most loyal friend, I beg with all my soul to see to the safety of + Marguerite. Armand will stay by me—but you, Ffoulkes, do not leave + her, stand by her. As soon as you read this letter—and you will not + read it until both she and you have felt that hope has fled and I myself + am about to throw up the sponge—try and persuade her to make for the + coast as quickly as may be.... At Calais you can open up communications + with the Day-Dream in the usual way, and embark on her at once. Let no + member of the League remain on French soil one hour longer after that. + Then tell the skipper to make for Le Portel—the place which he knows—and + there to keep a sharp outlook for another three nights. After that make + straight for home, for it will be no use waiting any longer. I shall not + come. These measures are for Marguerite’s safety, and for you all who are + in France at this moment. Comrade, I entreat you to look on these measures + as on my dying wish. To de Batz I have given rendezvous at the Chapelle of + the Holy Sepulchre, just outside the park of the Chateau d’Ourde. He will + help me to save the Dauphin, and if by good luck he also helps me to save + myself I shall be within seven leagues of Le Portel, and with the Liane + frozen as she is I could reach the coast. + </p> + <p> + But Marguerite’s safety I leave in your hands, Ffoulkes. Would that I + could look more clearly into the future, and know that those devils will + not drag her into danger. Beg her to start at once for Calais immediately + you have both read this. I only beg, I do not command. I know that you, + Ffoulkes, will stand by her whatever she may wish to do. God’s blessing be + for ever on you both. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite’s voice died away in the silence that still lay over this + deserted part of the great city and in this squalid house where she and + Sir Andrew Ffoulkes had found shelter these last ten days. The agony of + mind which they had here endured, never doubting, but scarcely ever + hoping, had found its culmination at last in this final message, which + almost seemed to come to them from the grave. + </p> + <p> + It had been written ten days ago. A plan had then apparently formed in + Percy’s mind which he had set forth during the brief half-hour’s respite + which those fiends had once given him. Since then they had never given him + ten consecutive minutes’ peace; since then ten days had gone by; how much + power, how much vitality had gone by too on the leaden wings of all those + terrible hours spent in solitude and in misery? + </p> + <p> + “We can but hope, Lady Blakeney,” said Sir Andrew Ffoulkes after a while, + “that you will be allowed out of Paris; but from what Armand says—” + </p> + <p> + “And Percy does not actually send me away,” she rejoined with a pathetic + little smile. + </p> + <p> + “No. He cannot compel you, Lady Blakeney. You are not a member of the + League.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I am!” she retorted firmly; “and I have sworn obedience, just as + all of you have done. I will go, just as he bids me, and you, Sir Andrew, + you will obey him too?” + </p> + <p> + “My orders are to stand by you. That is an easy task.” + </p> + <p> + “You know where this place is?” she asked—“the Chateau d’Ourde?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, we all know it! It is empty, and the park is a wreck; the owner + fled from it at the very outbreak of the revolution; he left some kind of + steward nominally in charge, a curious creature, half imbecile; the + chateau and the chapel in the forest just outside the grounds have oft + served Blakeney and all of us as a place of refuge on our way to the + coast.” + </p> + <p> + “But the Dauphin is not there?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No. According to the first letter which you brought me from Blakeney ten + days ago, and on which I acted, Tony, who has charge of the Dauphin, must + have crossed into Holland with his little Majesty to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” she said simply. “But then—this letter to de Batz?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there I am completely at sea! But I’ll deliver it, and at once too, + only I don’t like to leave you. Will you let me get you out of Paris + first? I think just before dawn it could be done. We can get the cart from + Lucas, and if we could reach St. Germain before noon, I could come + straight back then and deliver the letter to de Batz. This, I feel, I + ought to do myself; but at Achard’s farm I would know that you were safe + for a few hours.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do whatever you think right, Sir Andrew,” she said simply; “my + will is bound up with Percy’s dying wish. God knows I would rather follow + him now, step by step,—as hostage, as prisoner—any way so long + as I can see him, but—” + </p> + <p> + She rose and turned to go, almost impassive now in that great calm born of + despair. + </p> + <p> + A stranger seeing her now had thought her indifferent. She was very pale, + and deep circles round her eyes told of sleepless nights and days of + mental misery, but otherwise there was not the faintest outward symptom of + that terrible anguish which was rending her heartstrings. Her lips did not + quiver, and the source of her tears had been dried up ten days ago. + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes and I’ll be ready, Sir Andrew,” she said. “I have but few + belongings. Will you the while see Lucas about the cart?” + </p> + <p> + He did as she desired. Her calm in no way deceived him; he knew that she + must be suffering keenly, and would suffer more keenly still while she + would be trying to efface her own personal feelings all through that + coming dreary journey to Calais. + </p> + <p> + He went to see the landlord about the horse and cart, and a quarter of an + hour later Marguerite came downstairs ready to start. She found Sir Andrew + in close converse with an officer of the Garde de Paris, whilst two + soldiers of the same regiment were standing at the horse’s head. + </p> + <p> + When she appeared in the doorway Sir Andrew came at once up to her. + </p> + <p> + “It is just as I feared, Lady Blakeney,” he said; “this man has been sent + here to take charge of you. Of course, he knows nothing beyond the fact + that his orders are to convey you at once to the guard-house of the Rue + Ste. Anne, where he is to hand you over to citizen Chauvelin of the + Committee of Public Safety.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Andrew could not fail to see the look of intense relief which, in the + midst of all her sorrow, seemed suddenly to have lighted up the whole of + Marguerite’s wan face. The thought of wending her own way to safety whilst + Percy, mayhap, was fighting an uneven fight with death had been well-nigh + intolerable; but she had been ready to obey without a murmur. Now Fate and + the enemy himself had decided otherwise. She felt as if a load had been + lifted from her heart. + </p> + <p> + “I will at once go and find de Batz,” Sir Andrew contrived to whisper + hurriedly. “As soon as Percy’s letter is safely in his hands I will make + my way northwards and communicate with all the members of the League, on + whom the chief has so strictly enjoined to quit French soil immediately. + We will proceed to Calais first and open up communication with the + Day-Dream in the usual way. The others had best embark on board her, and + the skipper shall then make for the known spot of Le Portel, of which + Percy speaks in his letter. I myself will go by land to Le Portel, and + thence, if I have no news of you or of the expedition, I will slowly work + southwards in the direction of the Chateau d’Ourde. That is all that I can + do. If you can contrive to let Percy or even Armand know my movements, do + so by all means. I know that I shall be doing right, for, in a way, I + shall be watching over you and arranging for your safety, as Blakeney + begged me to do. God bless you, Lady Blakeney, and God save the Scarlet + Pimpernel!” + </p> + <p> + He stooped and kissed her hand, and she intimated to the officer that she + was ready. He had a hackney coach waiting for her lower down the street. + To it she walked with a firm step, and as she entered it she waved a last + farewell to Sir Andrew Ffoulkes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII. THE GUARD-HOUSE OF THE RUE STE. ANNE + </h2> + <p> + The little cortege was turning out of the great gates of the house of + Justice. It was intensely cold; a bitter north-easterly gale was blowing + from across the heights of Montmartre, driving sleet and snow and + half-frozen rain into the faces of the men, and finding its way up their + sleeves, down their collars and round the knees of their threadbare + breeches. + </p> + <p> + Armand, whose fingers were numb with the cold, could scarcely feel the + reins in his hands. Chauvelin was riding close beside him, but the two men + had not exchanged one word since the moment when the small troop of some + twenty mounted soldiers had filed up inside the courtyard, and Chauvelin, + with a curt word of command, had ordered one of the troopers to take + Armand’s horse on the lead. + </p> + <p> + A hackney coach brought up the rear of the cortege, with a man riding at + either door and two more following at a distance of twenty paces. Heron’s + gaunt, ugly face, crowned with a battered, sugar-loaf hat, appeared from + time to time at the window of the coach. He was no horseman, and, + moreover, preferred to keep the prisoner closely under his own eye. The + corporal had told Armand that the prisoner was with citizen Heron inside + the coach—in irons. Beyond that the soldiers could tell him nothing; + they knew nothing of the object of this expedition. Vaguely they might + have wondered in their dull minds why this particular prisoner was thus + being escorted out of the Conciergerie prison with so much paraphernalia + and such an air of mystery, when there were thousands of prisoners in the + city and the provinces at the present moment who anon would be bundled up + wholesale into carts to be dragged to the guillotine like a flock of sheep + to the butchers. + </p> + <p> + But even if they wondered they made no remarks among themselves. Their + faces, blue with the cold, were the perfect mirrors of their own + unconquerable stolidity. + </p> + <p> + The tower clock of Notre Dame struck seven when the small cavalcade + finally moved slowly out of the monumental gates. In the east the wan + light of a February morning slowly struggled out of the surrounding gloom. + Now the towers of many churches loomed ghostlike against the dull grey + sky, and down below, on the right, the frozen river, like a smooth sheet + of steel, wound its graceful curves round the islands and past the facade + of the Louvres palace, whose walls looked grim and silent, like the + mausoleum of the dead giants of the past. + </p> + <p> + All around the great city gave signs of awakening; the business of the day + renewed its course every twenty-four hours, despite the tragedies of death + and of dishonour that walked with it hand in hand. From the Place de La + Revolution the intermittent roll of drums came from time to time with its + muffled sound striking the ear of the passer-by. Along the quay opposite + an open-air camp was already astir; men, women, and children engaged in + the great task of clothing and feeding the people of France, armed against + tyranny, were bending to their task, even before the wintry dawn had + spread its pale grey tints over the narrower streets of the city. + </p> + <p> + Armand shivered under his cloak. This silent ride beneath the leaden sky, + through the veil of half-frozen rain and snow, seemed like a dream to him. + And now, as the outriders of the little cavalcade turned to cross the Pont + au Change, he saw spread out on his left what appeared like the living + panorama of these three weeks that had just gone by. He could see the + house of the Rue St. Germain l’Auxerrois where Percy had lodged before he + carried through the rescue of the little Dauphin. Armand could even see + the window at which the dreamer had stood, weaving noble dreams that his + brilliant daring had turned into realities, until the hand of a traitor + had brought him down to—to what? Armand would not have dared at this + moment to look back at that hideous, vulgar hackney coach wherein that + proud, reckless adventurer, who had defied Fate and mocked Death, sat, in + chains, beside a loathsome creature whose very propinquity was an outrage. + </p> + <p> + Now they were passing under the very house on the Quai de La Ferraille, + above the saddler’s shop, the house where Marguerite had lodged ten days + ago, whither Armand had come, trying to fool himself into the belief that + the love of “little mother” could be deceived into blindness against his + own crime. He had tried to draw a veil before those eyes which he had + scarcely dared encounter, but he knew that that veil must lift one day, + and then a curse would send him forth, outlawed and homeless, a wanderer + on the face of the earth. + </p> + <p> + Soon as the little cortege wended its way northwards it filed out beneath + the walls of the Temple prison; there was the main gate with its sentry + standing at attention, there the archway with the guichet of the + concierge, and beyond it the paved courtyard. Armand closed his eyes + deliberately; he could not bear to look. + </p> + <p> + No wonder that he shivered and tried to draw his cloak closer around him. + Every stone, every street corner was full of memories. The chill that + struck to the very marrow of his bones came from no outward cause; it was + the very hand of remorse that, as it passed over him, froze the blood in + his veins and made the rattle of those wheels behind him sound like a + hellish knell. + </p> + <p> + At last the more closely populated quarters of the city were left behind. + On ahead the first section of the guard had turned into the Rue St. Anne. + The houses became more sparse, intersected by narrow pieces of terrains + vagues, or small weed-covered bits of kitchen garden. + </p> + <p> + Then a halt was called. + </p> + <p> + It was quite light now. As light as it would ever be beneath this leaden + sky. Rain and snow still fell in gusts, driven by the blast. + </p> + <p> + Some one ordered Armand to dismount. It was probably Chauvelin. He did as + he was told, and a trooper led him to the door of an irregular brick + building that stood isolated on the right, extended on either side by a + low wall, and surrounded by a patch of uncultivated land, which now looked + like a sea of mud. + </p> + <p> + On ahead was the line of fortifications dimly outlined against the grey of + the sky, and in between brown, sodden earth, with here and there a + detached house, a cabbage patch, a couple of windmills deserted and + desolate. + </p> + <p> + The loneliness of an unpopulated outlying quarter of the great mother + city, a useless limb of her active body, an ostracised member of her vast + family. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically Armand had followed the soldier to the door of the building. + Here Chauvelin was standing, and bade him follow. A smell of hot coffee + hung in the dark narrow passage in front. Chauvelin led the way to a room + on the left. + </p> + <p> + Still that smell of hot coffee. Ever after it was associated in Armand’s + mind with this awful morning in the guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne, when + the rain and snow beat against the windows, and he stood there in the low + guard-room shivering and half-numbed with cold. + </p> + <p> + There was a table in the middle of the room, and on it stood cups of hot + coffee. Chauvelin bade him drink, suggesting, not unkindly, that the warm + beverage would do him good. Armand advanced further into the room, and saw + that there were wooden benches all round against the wall. On one of these + sat his sister Marguerite. + </p> + <p> + When she saw him she made a sudden, instinctive movement to go to him, but + Chauvelin interposed in his usual bland, quiet manner. + </p> + <p> + “Not just now, citizeness,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She sat down again, and Armand noted how cold and stony seemed her eyes, + as if life within her was at a stand-still, and a shadow that was almost + like death had atrophied every emotion in her. + </p> + <p> + “I trust you have not suffered too much from the cold, Lady Blakeney,” + resumed Chauvelin politely; “we ought not to have kept you waiting here + for so long, but delay at departure is sometimes inevitable.” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply, only acknowledging his reiterated inquiry as to her + comfort with an inclination of the head. + </p> + <p> + Armand had forced himself to swallow some coffee, and for the moment he + felt less chilled. He held the cup between his two hands, and gradually + some warmth crept into his bones. + </p> + <p> + “Little mother,” he said in English, “try and drink some of this, it will + do you good.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear,” she replied. “I have had some. I am not cold.” + </p> + <p> + Then a door at the end of the room was pushed open, and Heron stalked in. + </p> + <p> + “Are we going to be all day in this confounded hole?” he queried roughly. + </p> + <p> + Armand, who was watching his sister very closely, saw that she started at + the sight of the wretch, and seemed immediately to shrink still further + within herself, whilst her eyes, suddenly luminous and dilated, rested on + him like those of a captive bird upon an approaching cobra. + </p> + <p> + But Chauvelin was not to be shaken out of his suave manner. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, citizen Heron,” he said; “this coffee is very comforting. Is + the prisoner with you?” he added lightly. + </p> + <p> + Heron nodded in the direction of the other room. + </p> + <p> + “In there,” he said curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Then, perhaps, if you will be so good, citizen, to invite him thither, I + could explain to him his future position and our own.” + </p> + <p> + Heron muttered something between his fleshy lips, then he turned back + towards the open door, solemnly spat twice on the threshold, and nodded + his gaunt head once or twice in a manner which apparently was understood + from within. + </p> + <p> + “No, sergeant, I don’t want you,” he said gruffly; “only the prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + A second or two later Sir Percy Blakeney stood in the doorway; his hands + were behind his back, obviously hand-cuffed, but he held himself very + erect, though it was clear that this caused him a mighty effort. As soon + as he had crossed the threshold his quick glance had swept right round the + room. + </p> + <p> + He saw Armand, and his eyes lit up almost imperceptibly. + </p> + <p> + Then he caught sight of Marguerite, and his pale face took on suddenly a + more ashen hue. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin was watching him with those keen, light-coloured eyes of his. + Blakeney, conscious of this, made no movement, only his lips tightened, + and the heavy lids fell over the hollow eyes, completely hiding their + glance. + </p> + <p> + But what even the most astute, most deadly enemy could not see was that + subtle message of understanding that passed at once between Marguerite and + the man she loved; it was a magnetic current, intangible, invisible to all + save to her and to him. She was prepared to see him, prepared to see in + him all that she had feared; the weakness, the mental exhaustion, the + submission to the inevitable. Therefore she had also schooled her glance + to express to him all that she knew she would not be allowed to say—the + reassurance that she had read his last letter, that she had obeyed it to + the last word, save where Fate and her enemy had interfered with regard to + herself. + </p> + <p> + With a slight, imperceptible movement—imperceptible to every one + save to him, she had seemed to handle a piece of paper in her kerchief, + then she had nodded slowly, with her eyes—steadfast, reassuring—fixed + upon him, and his glance gave answer that he had understood. + </p> + <p> + But Chauvelin and Heron had seen nothing of this. They were satisfied that + there had been no communication between the prisoner and his wife and + friend. + </p> + <p> + “You are no doubt surprised, Sir Percy,” said Chauvelin after a while, “to + see Lady Blakeney here. She, as well as citizen St. Just, will accompany + our expedition to the place where you will lead us. We none of us know + where that place is—citizen Heron and myself are entirely in your + hands—you might be leading us to certain death, or again to a spot + where your own escape would be an easy matter to yourself. You will not be + surprised, therefore, that we have thought fit to take certain precautions + both against any little ambuscade which you may have prepared for us, or + against your making one of those daring attempts at escape for which the + noted Scarlet Pimpernel is so justly famous.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and only Heron’s low chuckle of satisfaction broke the + momentary silence that followed. Blakeney made no reply. Obviously he knew + exactly what was coming. He knew Chauvelin and his ways, knew the kind of + tortuous conception that would find origin in his brain; the moment that + he saw Marguerite sitting there he must have guessed that Chauvelin once + more desired to put her precious life in the balance of his intrigues. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen Heron is impatient, Sir Percy,” resumed Chauvelin after a while, + “so I must be brief. Lady Blakeney, as well as citizen St. Just, will + accompany us on this expedition to whithersoever you may lead us. They + will be the hostages which we will hold against your own good faith. At + the slightest suspicion—a mere suspicion perhaps—that you have + played us false, at a hint that you have led us into an ambush, or that + the whole of this expedition has been but a trick on your part to effect + your own escape, or if merely our hope of finding Capet at the end of our + journey is frustrated, the lives of our two hostages belong to us, and + your friend and your wife will be summarily shot before your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Outside the rain pattered against the window-panes, the gale whistled + mournfully among the stunted trees, but within this room not a sound + stirred the deadly stillness of the air, and yet at this moment hatred and + love, savage lust and sublime self-abnegation—the most power full + passions the heart of man can know—held three men here enchained; + each a slave to his dominant passion, each ready to stake his all for the + satisfaction of his master. Heron was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he said with a fierce oath, “what are we waiting for? The prisoner + knows how he stands. Now we can go.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment, citizen,” interposed Chauvelin, his quiet manner contrasting + strangely with his colleague’s savage mood. “You have quite understood, + Sir Percy,” he continued, directly addressing the prisoner, “the + conditions under which we are all of us about to proceed on this journey?” + </p> + <p> + “All of us?” said Blakeney slowly. “Are you taking it for granted then + that I accept your conditions and that I am prepared to proceed on the + journey?” + </p> + <p> + “If you do not proceed on the journey,” cried Heron with savage fury, + “I’ll strangle that woman with my own hands—now!” + </p> + <p> + Blakeney looked at him for a moment or two through half-closed lids, and + it seemed then to those who knew him well, to those who loved him and to + the man who hated him, that the mighty sinews almost cracked with the + passionate desire to kill. Then the sunken eyes turned slowly to + Marguerite, and she alone caught the look—it was a mere flash, of a + humble appeal for pardon. + </p> + <p> + It was all over in a second; almost immediately the tension on the pale + face relaxed, and into the eyes there came that look of acceptance—nearly + akin to fatalism—an acceptance of which the strong alone are + capable, for with them it only comes in the face of the inevitable. + </p> + <p> + Now he shrugged his broad shoulders, and once more turning to Heron he + said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “You leave me no option in that case. As you have remarked before, citizen + Heron, why should we wait any longer? Surely we can now go.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII. THE DREARY JOURNEY + </h2> + <p> + Rain! Rain! Rain! Incessant, monotonous and dreary! The wind had changed + round to the southwest. It blew now in great gusts that sent weird, + sighing sounds through the trees, and drove the heavy showers into the + faces of the men as they rode on, with heads bent forward against the + gale. + </p> + <p> + The rain-sodden bridles slipped through their hands, bringing out sores + and blisters on their palms; the horses were fidgety, tossing their heads + with wearying persistence as the wet trickled into their ears, or the + sharp, intermittent hailstones struck their sensitive noses. + </p> + <p> + Three days of this awful monotony, varied only by the halts at wayside + inns, the changing of troops at one of the guard-houses on the way, the + reiterated commands given to the fresh squad before starting on the next + lap of this strange, momentous way; and all the while, audible above the + clatter of horses’ hoofs, the rumbling of coach-wheels—two closed + carriages, each drawn by a pair of sturdy horses; which were changed at + every halt. A soldier on each box urged them to a good pace to keep up + with the troopers, who were allowed to go at an easy canter or light + jog-trot, whatever might prove easiest and least fatiguing. And from time + to time Heron’s shaggy, gaunt head would appear at the window of one of + the coaches, asking the way, the distance to the next city or to the + nearest wayside inn; cursing the troopers, the coachman, his colleague and + every one concerned, blaspheming against the interminable length of the + road, against the cold and against the wet. + </p> + <p> + Early in the evening on the second day of the journey he had met with an + accident. The prisoner, who presumably was weak and weary, and not over + steady on his feet, had fallen up against him as they were both about to + re-enter the coach after a halt just outside Amiens, and citizen Heron had + lost his footing in the slippery mud of the road. His head came in violent + contact with the step, and his right temple was severely cut. Since then + he had been forced to wear a bandage across the top of his face, under his + sugar-loaf hat, which had added nothing to his beauty, but a great deal to + the violence of his temper. He wanted to push the men on, to force the + pace, to shorten the halts; but Chauvelin knew better than to allow + slackness and discontent to follow in the wake of over-fatigue. + </p> + <p> + The soldiers were always well rested and well fed, and though the delay + caused by long and frequent halts must have been just as irksome to him as + it was to Heron, yet he bore it imperturbably, for he would have had no + use on this momentous journey for a handful of men whose enthusiasm and + spirit had been blown away by the roughness of the gale, or drowned in the + fury of the constant downpour of rain. + </p> + <p> + Of all this Marguerite had been conscious in a vague, dreamy kind of way. + She seemed to herself like the spectator in a moving panoramic drama, + unable to raise a finger or to do aught to stop that final, inevitable + ending, the cataclysm of sorrow and misery that awaited her, when the + dreary curtain would fall on the last act, and she and all the other + spectators—Armand, Chauvelin, Heron, the soldiers—would slowly + wend their way home, leaving the principal actor behind the fallen + curtain, which never would be lifted again. + </p> + <p> + After that first halt in the guard-room of the Rue Ste. Anne she had been + bidden to enter a second hackney coach, which, followed the other at a + distance of fifty metres or so, and was, like that other, closely + surrounded by a squad of mounted men. + </p> + <p> + Armand and Chauvelin rode in this carriage with her; all day she sat + looking out on the endless monotony of the road, on the drops of rain that + pattered against the window-glass, and ran down from it like a perpetual + stream of tears. + </p> + <p> + There were two halts called during the day—one for dinner and one + midway through the afternoon—when she and Armand would step out of + the coach and be led—always with soldiers close around them—to + some wayside inn, where some sort of a meal was served, where the + atmosphere was close and stuffy and smelt of onion soup and of stale + cheese. + </p> + <p> + Armand and Marguerite would in most cases have a room to themselves, with + sentinels posted outside the door, and they would try and eat enough to + keep body and soul together, for they would not allow their strength to + fall away before the end of the journey was reached. + </p> + <p> + For the night halt—once at Beauvais and the second night at + Abbeville—they were escorted to a house in the interior of the city, + where they were accommodated with moderately clean lodgings. Sentinels, + however, were always at their doors; they were prisoners in all but name, + and had little or no privacy; for at night they were both so tired that + they were glad to retire immediately, and to lie down on the hard beds + that had been provided for them, even if sleep fled from their eyes, and + their hearts and souls were flying through the city in search of him who + filled their every thought. + </p> + <p> + Of Percy they saw little or nothing. In the daytime food was evidently + brought to him in the carriage, for they did not see him get down, and on + those two nights at Beauvais and Abbeville, when they caught sight of him + stepping out of the coach outside the gates of the barracks, he was so + surrounded by soldiers that they only saw the top of his head and his + broad shoulders towering above those of the men. + </p> + <p> + Once Marguerite had put all her pride, all her dignity by, and asked + citizen Chauvelin for news of her husband. + </p> + <p> + “He is well and cheerful, Lady Blakeney,” he had replied with his + sarcastic smile. “Ah!” he added pleasantly, “those English are remarkable + people. We, of Gallic breed, will never really understand them. Their + fatalism is quite Oriental in its quiet resignation to the decree of Fate. + Did you know, Lady Blakeney, that when Sir Percy was arrested he did not + raise a hand. I thought, and so did my colleague, that he would have + fought like a lion. And now, that he has no doubt realised that quiet + submission will serve him best in the end, he is as calm on this journey + as I am myself. In fact,” he concluded complacently, “whenever I have + succeeded in peeping into the coach I have invariably found Sir Percy + Blakeney fast asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “He—” she murmured, for it was so difficult to speak to this callous + wretch, who was obviously mocking her in her misery—“he—you—you + are not keeping him in irons?” + </p> + <p> + “No! Oh no!” replied Chauvelin with perfect urbanity. “You see, now that + we have you, Lady Blakeney, and citizen St. Just with us we have no reason + to fear that that elusive Pimpernel will spirit himself away.” + </p> + <p> + A hot retort had risen to Armand’s lips. The warm Latin blood in him + rebelled against this intolerable situation, the man’s sneers in the face + of Marguerite’s anguish. But her restraining, gentle hand had already + pressed his. What was the use of protesting, of insulting this brute, who + cared nothing for the misery which he had caused so long as he gained his + own ends? + </p> + <p> + And Armand held his tongue and tried to curb his temper, tried to + cultivate a little of that fatalism which Chauvelin had said was + characteristic of the English. He sat beside his sister, longing to + comfort her, yet feeling that his very presence near her was an outrage + and a sacrilege. She spoke so seldom to him, even when they were alone, + that at times the awful thought which had more than once found birth in + his weary brain became crystallised and more real. Did Marguerite guess? + Had she the slightest suspicion that the awful cataclysm to which they + were tending with every revolution of the creaking coach-wheels had been + brought about by her brother’s treacherous hand? + </p> + <p> + And when that thought had lodged itself quite snugly in his mind he began + to wonder whether it would not be far more simple, far more easy, to end + his miserable life in some manner that might suggest itself on the way. + When the coach crossed one of those dilapidated, parapetless bridges, over + abysses fifty metres deep, it might be so easy to throw open the carriage + door and to take one final jump into eternity. + </p> + <p> + So easy—but so damnably cowardly. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite’s near presence quickly brought him back to himself. His life + was no longer his own to do with as he pleased; it belonged to the chief + whom he had betrayed, to the sister whom he must endeavour to protect. + </p> + <p> + Of Jeanne now he thought but little. He had put even the memory of her by—tenderly, + like a sprig of lavender pressed between the faded leaves of his own + happiness. His hand was no longer fit to hold that of any pure woman—his + hand had on it a deep stain, immutable, like the brand of Cain. + </p> + <p> + Yet Marguerite beside him held his hand and together they looked out on + that dreary, dreary road and listened to of the patter of the rain and the + rumbling of the wheels of that other coach on ahead—and it was all + so dismal and so horrible, the rain, the soughing of the wind in the + stunted trees, this landscape of mud and desolation, this eternally grey + sky. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV. THE HALT AT CRECY + </h2> + <p> + “Now, then, citizen, don’t go to sleep; this is Crecy, our last halt!” + </p> + <p> + Armand woke up from his last dream. They had been moving steadily on since + they left Abbeville soon after dawn; the rumble of the wheels, the swaying + and rocking of the carriage, the interminable patter of the rain had + lulled him into a kind of wakeful sleep. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin had already alighted from the coach. He was helping Marguerite + to descend. Armand shook the stiffness from his limbs and followed in the + wake of his sister. Always those miserable soldiers round them, with their + dank coats of rough blue cloth, and the red caps on their heads! Armand + pulled Marguerite’s hand through his arm, and dragged her with him into + the house. + </p> + <p> + The small city lay damp and grey before them; the rough pavement of the + narrow street glistened with the wet, reflecting the dull, leaden sky + overhead; the rain beat into the puddles; the slate-roofs shone in the + cold wintry light. + </p> + <p> + This was Crecy! The last halt of the journey, so Chauvelin had said. The + party had drawn rein in front of a small one-storied building that had a + wooden verandah running the whole length of its front. + </p> + <p> + The usual low narrow room greeted Armand and Marguerite as they entered; + the usual mildewed walls, with the colour wash flowing away in streaks + from the unsympathetic beam above; the same device, “Liberte, Egalite, + Fraternite!” scribbled in charcoal above the black iron stove; the usual + musty, close atmosphere, the usual smell of onion and stale cheese, the + usual hard straight benches and central table with its soiled and tattered + cloth. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite seemed dazed and giddy; she had been five hours in that stuffy + coach with nothing to distract her thoughts except the rain-sodden + landscape, on which she had ceaselessly gazed since the early dawn. + </p> + <p> + Armand led her to the bench, and she sank down on it, numb and inert, + resting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “If it were only all over!” she sighed involuntarily. “Armand, at times + now I feel as if I were not really sane—as if my reason had already + given way! Tell me, do I seem mad to you at times?” + </p> + <p> + He sat down beside her and tried to chafe her little cold hands. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door, and without waiting for permission + Chauvelin entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “My humble apologies to you, Lady Blakeney,” he said in his usual suave + manner, “but our worthy host informs me that this is the only room in + which he can serve a meal. Therefore I am forced to intrude my presence + upon you.” + </p> + <p> + Though he spoke with outward politeness, his tone had become more + peremptory, less bland, and he did not await Marguerite’s reply before he + sat down opposite to her and continued to talk airily. + </p> + <p> + “An ill-conditioned fellow, our host,” he said—“quite reminds me of + our friend Brogard at the Chat Gris in Calais. You remember him, Lady + Blakeney?” + </p> + <p> + “My sister is giddy and over-tired,” interposed Armand firmly. “I pray + you, citizen, to have some regard for her.” + </p> + <p> + “All regard in the world, citizen St. Just,” protested Chauvelin jovially. + “Methought that those pleasant reminiscences would cheer her. Ah! here + comes the soup,” he added, as a man in blue blouse and breeches, with + sabots on his feet, slouched into the room, carrying a tureen which he + incontinently placed upon the table. “I feel sure that in England Lady + Blakeney misses our excellent croutes-au-pot, the glory of our bourgeois + cookery—Lady Blakeney, a little soup?” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Do try and eat something, little mother,” Armand whispered in her ear; + “try and keep up your strength for his sake, if not for mine.” + </p> + <p> + She turned a wan, pale face to him, and tried to smile. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll try, dear,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You have taken bread and meat to the citizens in the coach?” Chauvelin + called out to the retreating figure of mine host. + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” grunted the latter in assent. + </p> + <p> + “And see that the citizen soldiers are well fed, or there will be + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” grunted the man again. After which he banged the door to behind + him. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen Heron is loath to let the prisoner out of his sight,” explained + Chauvelin lightly, “now that we have reached the last, most important + stage of our journey, so he is sharing Sir Percy’s mid-day meal in the + interior of the coach.” + </p> + <p> + He ate his soup with a relish, ostentatiously paying many small attentions + to Marguerite all the time. He ordered meat for her—bread, butter—asked + if any dainties could be got. He was apparently in the best of tempers. + </p> + <p> + After he had eaten and drunk he rose and bowed ceremoniously to her. + </p> + <p> + “Your pardon, Lady Blakeney,” he said, “but I must confer with the + prisoner now, and take from him full directions for the continuance of our + journey. After that I go to the guard-house, which is some distance from + here, right at the other end of the city. We pick up a fresh squad here, + twenty hardened troopers from a cavalry regiment usually stationed at + Abbeville. They have had work to do in this town, which is a hot-bed of + treachery. I must go inspect the men and the sergeant who will be in + command. Citizen Heron leaves all these inspections to me; he likes to + stay by his prisoner. In the meanwhile you will be escorted back to your + coach, where I pray you to await my arrival, when we change guard first, + then proceed on our way.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite was longing to ask him many questions; once again she would + have smothered her pride and begged for news of her husband, but Chauvelin + did not wait. He hurried out of the room, and Armand and Marguerite could + hear him ordering the soldiers to take them forthwith back to the coach. + </p> + <p> + As they came out of the inn they saw the other coach some fifty metres + further up the street. The horses that had done duty since leaving + Abbeville had been taken out, and two soldiers in ragged shirts, and with + crimson caps set jauntily over their left ear, were leading the two fresh + horses along. The troopers were still mounting guard round both the + coaches; they would be relieved presently. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite would have given ten years of her life at this moment for the + privilege of speaking to her husband, or even of seeing him—of + seeing that he was well. A quick, wild plan sprang up in her mind that she + would bribe the sergeant in command to grant her wish while citizen + Chauvelin was absent. The man had not an unkind face, and he must be very + poor—people in France were very poor these days, though the rich had + been robbed and luxurious homes devastated ostensibly to help the poor. + </p> + <p> + She was about to put this sudden thought into execution when Heron’s + hideous face, doubly hideous now with that bandage of doubtful cleanliness + cutting across his brow, appeared at the carriage window. + </p> + <p> + He cursed violently and at the top of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “What are those d—d aristos doing out there?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Just getting into the coach, citizen,” replied the sergeant promptly. + </p> + <p> + And Armand and Marguerite were immediately ordered back into the coach. + </p> + <p> + Heron remained at the window for a few moments longer; he had a toothpick + in his hand which he was using very freely. + </p> + <p> + “How much longer are we going to wait in this cursed hole?” he called out + to the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “Only a few moments longer, citizen. Citizen Chauvelin will be back soon + with the guard.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later the clatter of cavalry horses on the rough, + uneven pavement drew Marguerite’s attention. She lowered the carriage + window and looked out. Chauvelin had just returned with the new escort. He + was on horseback; his horse’s bridle, since he was but an indifferent + horseman, was held by one of the troopers. + </p> + <p> + Outside the inn he dismounted; evidently he had taken full command of the + expedition, and scarcely referred to Heron, who spent most of his time + cursing at the men or the weather when he was not lying half-asleep and + partially drunk in the inside of the carriage. + </p> + <p> + The changing of the guard was now accomplished quietly and in perfect + order. The new escort consisted of twenty mounted men, including a + sergeant and a corporal, and of two drivers, one for each coach. The + cortege now was filed up in marching order; ahead a small party of scouts, + then the coach with Marguerite and Armand closely surrounded by mounted + men, and at a short distance the second coach with citizen Heron and the + prisoner equally well guarded. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin superintended all the arrangements himself. He spoke for some + few moments with the sergeant, also with the driver of his own coach. He + went to the window of the other carriage, probably in order to consult + with citizen Heron, or to take final directions from the prisoner, for + Marguerite, who was watching him, saw him standing on the step and leaning + well forward into the interior, whilst apparently he was taking notes on a + small tablet which he had in his hand. + </p> + <p> + A small knot of idlers had congregated in the narrow street; men in + blouses and boys in ragged breeches lounged against the verandah of the + inn and gazed with inexpressive, stolid eyes on the soldiers, the coaches, + the citizen who wore the tricolour scarf. They had seen this sort of thing + before now—aristos being conveyed to Paris under arrest, prisoners + on their way to or from Amiens. They saw Marguerite’s pale face at the + carriage window. It was not the first woman’s face they had seen under + like circumstances, and there was no special interest about this aristo. + They were smoking or spitting, or just lounging idly against the + balustrade. Marguerite wondered if none of them had wife, sister, or + mother, or child; if every sympathy, every kind of feeling in these poor + wretches had been atrophied by misery or by fear. + </p> + <p> + At last everything was in order and the small party ready to start. + </p> + <p> + “Does any one here know the Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre, close by the + park of the Chateau d’Ourde?” asked Chauvelin, vaguely addressing the knot + of gaffers that stood closest to him. + </p> + <p> + The men shook their heads. Some had dimly heard of the Chateau d’Ourde; it + was some way in the interior of the forest of Boulogne, but no one knew + about a chapel; people did not trouble about chapels nowadays. With the + indifference so peculiar to local peasantry, these men knew no more of the + surrounding country than the twelve or fifteen league circle that was + within a walk of their sleepy little town. + </p> + <p> + One of the scouts on ahead turned in his saddle and spoke to citizen + Chauvelin: + </p> + <p> + “I think I know the way pretty well; citizen Chauvelin,” he said; “at any + rate, I know it as far as the forest of Boulogne.” + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin referred to his tablets. + </p> + <p> + “That’s good,” he said; “then when you reach the mile-stone that stands on + this road at the confine of the forest, bear sharply to your right and + skirt the wood until you see the hamlet of—Le—something. Le—Le—yes—Le + Crocq—that’s it in the valley below.” + </p> + <p> + “I know Le Crocq, I think,” said the trooper. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then; at that point it seems that a wide road strikes at right + angles into the interior of the forest; you follow that until a stone + chapel with a colonnaded porch stands before you on your left, and the + walls and gates of a park on your right. That is so, is it not, Sir + Percy?” he added, once more turning towards the interior of the coach. + </p> + <p> + Apparently the answer satisfied him, for he gave the quick word of + command, “En avant!” then turned back towards his own coach and finally + entered it. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the Chateau d’Ourde, citizen St. Just?” he asked abruptly as + soon as the carriage began to move. + </p> + <p> + Armand woke—as was habitual with him these days—from some + gloomy reverie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen,” he replied. “I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I know it too.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he knew the chateau well, and the little chapel in the forest, + whither the fisher-folk from Portel and Boulogne came on a pilgrimage once + a year to lay their nets on the miracle-working relic. The chapel was + disused now. Since the owner of the chateau had fled no one had tended it, + and the fisher-folk were afraid to wander out, lest their superstitious + faith be counted against them by the authorities, who had abolished le bon + Dieu. + </p> + <p> + But Armand had found refuge there eighteen months ago, on his way to + Calais, when Percy had risked his life in order to save him—Armand—from + death. He could have groaned aloud with the anguish of this recollection. + But Marguerite’s aching nerves had thrilled at the name. + </p> + <p> + The Chateau d’Ourde! The Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre! That was the place + which Percy had mentioned in his letter, the place where he had given + rendezvous to de Batz. Sir Andrew had said that the Dauphin could not + possibly be there, yet Percy was leading his enemies thither, and had + given the rendezvous there to de Batz. And this despite that whatever + plans, whatever hopes, had been born in his mind when he was still immured + in the Conciergerie prison must have been set at naught by the clever + counter plot of Chauvelin and Heron. + </p> + <p> + “At the merest suspicion that you have played us false, at a hint that you + have led us into an ambush, or if merely our hopes of finding Capet at the + end of the journey are frustrated, the lives of your wife and of your + friend are forfeit to us, and they will both be shot before your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + With these words, with this precaution, those cunning fiends had + effectually not only tied the schemer’s hands, but forced him either to + deliver the child to them or to sacrifice his wife and his friend. + </p> + <p> + The impasse was so horrible that she could not face it even in her + thoughts. A strange, fever-like heat coursed through her veins, yet left + her hands icy-cold; she longed for, yet dreaded, the end of the journey—that + awful grappling with the certainty of coming death. Perhaps, after all, + Percy, too, had given up all hope. Long ago he had consecrated his life to + the attainment of his own ideals; and there was a vein of fatalism in him; + perhaps he had resigned himself to the inevitable, and his only desire now + was to give up his life, as he had said, in the open, beneath God’s sky, + to draw his last breath with the storm-clouds tossed through infinity + above him, and the murmur of the wind in the trees to sing him to rest. + </p> + <p> + Crecy was gradually fading into the distance, wrapped in a mantle of damp + and mist. For a long while Marguerite could see the sloping slate roofs + glimmering like steel in the grey afternoon light, and the quaint church + tower with its beautiful lantern, through the pierced stonework of which + shone patches of the leaden sky. + </p> + <p> + Then a sudden twist of the road hid the city from view; only the outlying + churchyard remained in sight, with its white monuments and granite + crosses, over which the dark yews, wet with the rain and shaken by the + gale, sent showers of diamond-like sprays. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV. THE FOREST OF BOULOGNE + </h2> + <p> + Progress was not easy, and very slow along the muddy road; the two coaches + moved along laboriously, with wheels creaking and sinking deeply from time + to time in the quagmire. + </p> + <p> + When the small party finally reached the edge of the wood the greyish + light of this dismal day had changed in the west to a dull reddish glow—a + glow that had neither brilliance nor incandescence in it; only a weird + tint that hung over the horizon and turned the distance into lines of + purple. + </p> + <p> + The nearness of the sea made itself already felt; there was a briny taste + in the damp atmosphere, and the trees all turned their branches away in + the same direction against the onslaught of the prevailing winds. + </p> + <p> + The road at this point formed a sharp fork, skirting the wood on either + side, the forest lying like a black close mass of spruce and firs on the + left, while the open expanse of country stretched out on the right. The + south-westerly gale struck with full violence against the barrier of + forest trees, bending the tall crests of the pines and causing their small + dead branches to break and fall with a sharp, crisp sound like a cry of + pain. + </p> + <p> + The squad had been fresh at starting; now the men had been four hours in + the saddle under persistent rain and gusty wind; they were tired, and the + atmosphere of the close, black forest so near the road was weighing upon + their spirits. + </p> + <p> + Strange sounds came to them from out the dense network of trees—the + screeching of night-birds, the weird call of the owls, the swift and + furtive tread of wild beasts on the prowl. The cold winter and lack of + food had lured the wolves from their fastnesses—hunger had + emboldened them, and now, as gradually the grey light fled from the sky, + dismal howls could be heard in the distance, and now and then a pair of + eyes, bright with the reflection of the lurid western glow, would shine + momentarily out of the darkness like tiny glow-worms, and as quickly + vanish away. + </p> + <p> + The men shivered—more with vague superstitious fear than with cold. + They would have urged their horses on, but the wheels of the coaches stuck + persistently in the mud, and now and again a halt had to be called so that + the spokes and axles might be cleared. + </p> + <p> + They rode on in silence. No one had a mind to speak, and the mournful + soughing of the wind in the pine-trees seemed to check the words on every + lip. The dull thud of hoofs in the soft road, the clang of steel bits and + buckles, the snorting of the horses alone answered the wind, and also the + monotonous creaking of the wheels ploughing through the ruts. + </p> + <p> + Soon the ruddy glow in the west faded into soft-toned purple and then into + grey; finally that too vanished. Darkness was drawing in on every side + like a wide, black mantle pulled together closer and closer overhead by + invisible giant hands. + </p> + <p> + The rain still fell in a thin drizzle that soaked through caps and coats, + made the bridles slimy and the saddles slippery and damp. A veil of vapour + hung over the horses’ cruppers, and was rendered fuller and thicker every + moment with the breath that came from their nostrils. The wind no longer + blew with gusty fury—its strength seemed to have been spent with the + grey light of day—but now and then it would still come sweeping + across the open country, and dash itself upon the wall of forest trees, + lashing against the horses’ ears, catching the corner of a mantle here, an + ill-adjusted cap there, and wreaking its mischievous freak for a while, + then with a sigh of satisfaction die, murmuring among the pines. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there was a halt, much shouting, a volley of oaths from the + drivers, and citizen Chauvelin thrust his head out of the carriage window. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The scouts, citizen,” replied the sergeant, who had been riding close to + the coach door all this while; “they have returned.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell one man to come straight to me and report.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite sat quite still. Indeed, she had almost ceased to live + momentarily, for her spirit was absent from her body, which felt neither + fatigue, nor cold, nor pain. But she heard the snorting of the horse close + by as its rider pulled him up sharply beside the carriage door. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Chauvelin curtly. + </p> + <p> + “This is the cross-road, citizen,” replied the man; “it strikes straight + into the wood, and the hamlet of Le Crocq lies down in the valley on the + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you follow the road in the wood?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen. About two leagues from here there is a clearing with a + small stone chapel, more like a large shrine, nestling among the trees. + Opposite to it the angle of a high wall with large wrought-iron gates at + the corner, and from these a wide drive leads through a park.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you turn into the drive?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a little way, citizen. We thought we had best report first that all + is safe.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw no one?” + </p> + <p> + “No one.” + </p> + <p> + “The chateau, then, lies some distance from the gates?” + </p> + <p> + “A league or more, citizen. Close to the gates there are outhouses and + stabling, the disused buildings of the home farm, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! We are on the right road, that is clear. Keep ahead with your men + now, but only some two hundred metres or so. Stay!” he added, as if on + second thoughts. “Ride down to the other coach and ask the prisoner if we + are on the right track.” + </p> + <p> + The rider turned his horse sharply round. Marguerite heard-the clang of + metal and the sound of retreating hoofs. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later the man returned. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen,” he reported, “the prisoner says it is quite right. The + Chateau d’Ourde lies a full league from its gates. This is the nearest + road to the chapel and the chateau. He says we should reach the former in + half an hour. It will be very dark in there,” he added with a significant + nod in the direction of the wood. + </p> + <p> + Chauvelin made no reply, but quietly stepped out of the coach. Marguerite + watched him, leaning out of the window, following his small trim figure as + he pushed his way past the groups of mounted men, catching at a horse’s + bit now and then, or at a bridle, making a way for himself amongst the + restless, champing animals, without the slightest hesitation or fear. + </p> + <p> + Soon his retreating figure lost its sharp outline silhouetted against the + evening sky. It was enfolded in the veil of vapour which was blown out of + the horses’ nostrils or rising from their damp cruppers; it became more + vague, almost ghost-like, through the mist and the fast-gathering gloom. + </p> + <p> + Presently a group of troopers hid him entirely from her view, but she + could hear his thin, smooth voice quite clearly as he called to citizen + Heron. + </p> + <p> + “We are close to the end of our journey now, citizen,” she heard him say. + “If the prisoner has not played us false little Capet should be in our + charge within the hour.” + </p> + <p> + A growl not unlike those that came from out the mysterious depths of the + forest answered him. + </p> + <p> + “If he is not,” and Marguerite recognised the harsh tones of citizen Heron—“if + he is not, then two corpses will be rotting in this wood tomorrow for the + wolves to feed on, and the prisoner will be on his way back to Paris with + me.” + </p> + <p> + Some one laughed. It might have been one of the troopers, more callous + than his comrades, but to Marguerite the laugh had a strange, familiar + ring in it, the echo of something long since past and gone. + </p> + <p> + Then Chauvelin’s voice once more came clearly to her ear: + </p> + <p> + “My suggestion, citizen,” he was saying, “is that the prisoner shall now + give me an order—couched in whatever terms he may think necessary—but + a distinct order to his friends to give up Capet to me without any + resistance. I could then take some of the men with me, and ride as quickly + as the light will allow up to the chateau, and take possession of it, of + Capet, and of those who are with him. We could get along faster thus. One + man can give up his horse to me and continue the journey on the box of + your coach. The two carriages could then follow at foot pace. But I fear + that if we stick together complete darkness will overtake us and we might + find ourselves obliged to pass a very uncomfortable night in this wood.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t spend another night in this suspense—it would kill me,” + growled Heron to the accompaniment of one of his choicest oaths. “You must + do as you think right—you planned the whole of this affair—see + to it that it works out well in the end.” + </p> + <p> + “How many men shall I take with me? Our advance guard is here, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t spare you more than four more men—I shall want the + others to guard the prisoners.” + </p> + <p> + “Four men will be quite sufficient, with the four of the advance guard. + That will leave you twelve men for guarding your prisoners, and you really + only need to guard the woman—her life will answer for the others.” + </p> + <p> + He had raised his voice when he said this, obviously intending that + Marguerite and Armand should hear. + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll ahead,” he continued, apparently in answer to an assent from + his colleague. “Sir Percy, will you be so kind as to scribble the + necessary words on these tablets?” + </p> + <p> + There was a long pause, during which Marguerite heard plainly the long and + dismal cry of a night bird that, mayhap, was seeking its mate. Then + Chauvelin’s voice was raised again. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you,” he said; “this certainly should be quite effectual. And + now, citizen Heron, I do not think that under the circumstances we need + fear an ambuscade or any kind of trickery—you hold the hostages. And + if by any chance I and my men are attacked, or if we encounter armed + resistance at the chateau, I will despatch a rider back straightway to + you, and—well, you will know what to do.” + </p> + <p> + His voice died away, merged in the soughing of the wind, drowned by the + clang of metal, of horses snorting, of men living and breathing. + Marguerite felt that beside her Armand had shuddered, and that in the + darkness his trembling hand had sought and found hers. + </p> + <p> + She leaned well out of the window, trying to see. The gloom had gathered + more closely in, and round her the veil of vapour from the horses’ + steaming cruppers hung heavily in the misty air. In front of her the + straight lines of a few fir trees stood out dense and black against the + greyness beyond, and between these lines purple tints of various tones and + shades mingled one with the other, merging the horizon line with the sky. + Here and there a more solid black patch indicated the tiny houses of the + hamlet of Le Crocq far down in the valley below; from some of these houses + small lights began to glimmer like blinking yellow eyes. Marguerite’s + gaze, however, did not rest on the distant landscape—it tried to + pierce the gloom that hid her immediate surroundings; the mounted men were + all round the coach—more closely round her than the trees in the + forest. But the horses were restless, moving all the time, and as they + moved she caught glimpses of that other coach and of Chauvelin’s ghostlike + figure, walking rapidly through the mist. Just for one brief moment she + saw the other coach, and Heron’s head and shoulders leaning out of the + window. His sugar-loaf hat was on his head, and the bandage across his + brow looked like a sharp, pale streak below it. + </p> + <p> + “Do not doubt it, citizen Chauvelin,” he called out loudly in his harsh, + raucous voice, “I shall know what to do; the wolves will have their meal + to-night, and the guillotine will not be cheated either.” + </p> + <p> + Armand put his arm round his sister’s shoulders and gently drew her back + into the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Little mother,” he said, “if you can think of a way whereby my life would + redeem Percy’s and yours, show me that way now.” + </p> + <p> + But she replied quietly and firmly: + </p> + <p> + “There is no way, Armand. If there is, it is in the hands of God.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI. OTHERS IN THE PARK + </h2> + <p> + Chauvelin and his picked escort had in the meanwhile detached themselves + from the main body of the squad. Soon the dull thud of their horses’ hoofs + treading the soft ground came more softly—then more softly still as + they turned into the wood, and the purple shadows seemed to enfold every + sound and finally to swallow them completely. + </p> + <p> + Armand and Marguerite from the depth of the carriage heard Heron’s voice + ordering his own driver now to take the lead. They sat quite still and + watched, and presently the other coach passed them slowly on the road, its + silhouette standing out ghostly and grim for a moment against the indigo + tones of the distant country. + </p> + <p> + Heron’s head, with its battered sugar-loaf hat, and the soiled bandage + round the brow, was as usual out of the carriage window. He leered across + at Marguerite when he saw the outline of her face framed by the window of + the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Say all the prayers you have ever known, citizeness,” he said with a loud + laugh, “that my friend Chauvelin may find Capet at the chateau, or else + you may take a last look at the open country, for you will not see the sun + rise on it to-morrow. It is one or the other, you know.” + </p> + <p> + She tried not to look at him; the very sight of him filled her with horror—that + blotched, gaunt face of his, the fleshy lips, that hideous bandage across + his face that hid one of his eyes! She tried not to see him and not to + hear him laugh. + </p> + <p> + Obviously he too laboured under the stress of great excitement. So far + everything had gone well; the prisoner had made no attempt at escape, and + apparently did not mean to play a double game. But the crucial hour had + come, and with it darkness and the mysterious depths of the forest with + their weird sounds and sudden flashes of ghostly lights. They naturally + wrought on the nerves of men like Heron, whose conscience might have been + dormant, but whose ears were nevertheless filled with the cries of + innocent victims sacrificed to their own lustful ambitions and their + blind, unreasoning hates. + </p> + <p> + He gave sharp orders to the men to close up round the carriages, and then + gave the curt word of command: + </p> + <p> + “En avant!” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite could but strain her ears to listen. All her senses, all her + faculties had merged into that of hearing, rendering it doubly keen. It + seemed to her that she could distinguish the faint sound—that even + as she listened grew fainter and fainter yet—of Chauvelin and his + squad moving away rapidly into the thickness of the wood some distance + already ahead. + </p> + <p> + Close to her there was the snorting of horses, the clanging and noise of + moving mounted men. Heron’s coach had taken the lead; she could hear the + creaking of its wheels, the calls of the driver urging his beasts. + </p> + <p> + The diminished party was moving at foot-pace in the darkness that seemed + to grow denser at every step, and through that silence which was so full + of mysterious sounds. + </p> + <p> + The carriage rolled and rocked on its springs; Marguerite, giddy and + overtired, lay back with closed eyes, her hand resting in that of Armand. + Time, space and distance had ceased to be; only Death, the great Lord of + all, had remained; he walked on ahead, scythe on skeleton shoulder, and + beckoned patiently, but with a sure, grim hand. + </p> + <p> + There was another halt, the coach-wheels groaned and creaked on their + axles, one or two horses reared with the sudden drawing up of the curb. + </p> + <p> + “What is it now?” came Heron’s hoarse voice through the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “It is pitch-dark, citizen,” was the response from ahead. “The drivers + cannot see their horses’ ears. They wait to know if they may light their + lanthorns and then lead their horses.” + </p> + <p> + “They can lead their horses,” replied Heron roughly, “but I’ll have no + lanthorns lighted. We don’t know what fools may be lurking behind trees, + hoping to put a bullet through my head—or yours, sergeant—we + don’t want to make a lighted target of ourselves—what? But let the + drivers lead their horses, and one or two of you who are riding greys + might dismount too and lead the way—the greys would show up perhaps + in this cursed blackness.” + </p> + <p> + While his orders were being carried out, he called out once more: + </p> + <p> + “Are we far now from that confounded chapel?” + </p> + <p> + “We can’t be far, citizen; the whole forest is not more than six leagues + wide at any point, and we have gone two since we turned into it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” Heron’s voice suddenly broke in hoarsely. “What was that? Silence, + I say. Damn you—can’t you hear?” + </p> + <p> + There was a hush—every ear straining to listen; but the horses were + not still—they continued to champ their bits, to paw the ground, and + to toss their heads, impatient to get on. Only now and again there would + come a lull even through these sounds—a second or two, mayhap, of + perfect, unbroken silence—and then it seemed as if right through the + darkness a mysterious echo sent back those same sounds—the champing + of bits, the pawing of soft ground, the tossing and snorting of animals, + human life that breathed far out there among the trees. + </p> + <p> + “It is citizen Chauvelin and his men,” said the sergeant after a while, + and speaking in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Silence—I want to hear,” came the curt, hoarsely-whispered command. + </p> + <p> + Once more every one listened, the men hardly daring to breathe, clinging + to their bridles and pulling on their horses’ mouths, trying to keep them + still, and again through the night there came like a faint echo which + seemed to throw back those sounds that indicated the presence of men and + of horses not very far away. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it must be citizen Chauvelin,” said Heron at last; but the tone of + his voice sounded as if he were anxious and only half convinced; “but I + thought he would be at the chateau by now.” + </p> + <p> + “He may have had to go at foot-pace; it is very dark, citizen Heron,” + remarked the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “En avant, then,” quoth the other; “the sooner we come up with him the + better.” + </p> + <p> + And the squad of mounted men, the two coaches, the drivers and the advance + section who were leading their horses slowly restarted on the way. The + horses snorted, the bits and stirrups clanged, and the springs and wheels + of the coaches creaked and groaned dismally as the ramshackle vehicles + began once more to plough the carpet of pine-needles that lay thick upon + the road. + </p> + <p> + But inside the carriage Armand and Marguerite held one another tightly by + the hand. + </p> + <p> + “It is de Batz—with his friends,” she whispered scarce above her + breath. + </p> + <p> + “De Batz?” he asked vaguely and fearfully, for in the dark he could not + see her face, and as he did not understand why she should suddenly be + talking of de Batz he thought with horror that mayhap her prophecy anent + herself had come true, and that her mind wearied and over-wrought—had + become suddenly unhinged. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, de Batz,” she replied. “Percy sent him a message, through me, to + meet him—here. I am not mad, Armand,” she added more calmly. “Sir + Andrew took Percy’s letter to de Batz the day that we started from Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” exclaimed Armand, and instinctively, with a sense of + protection, he put his arms round his sister. “Then, if Chauvelin or the + squad is attacked—if—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said calmly; “if de Batz makes an attack on Chauvelin, or if he + reaches the chateau first and tries to defend it, they will shoot us... + Armand, and Percy.” + </p> + <p> + “But is the Dauphin at the Chateau d’Ourde?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! I think not.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why should Percy have invoked the aid of de Batz? Now, when—” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” she murmured helplessly. “Of course, when he wrote the + letter he could not guess that they would hold us as hostages. He may have + thought that under cover of darkness and of an unexpected attack he might + have saved himself had he been alone; but now—now that you and I are + here—Oh! it is all so horrible, and I cannot understand it all.” + </p> + <p> + “Hark!” broke in Armand, suddenly gripping her arm more tightly. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” rang the sergeant’s voice through the night. + </p> + <p> + This time there was no mistaking the sound; already it came from no far + distance. It was the sound of a man running and panting, and now and again + calling out as he ran. + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was stillness in the very air, the wind itself was + hushed between two gusts, even the rain had ceased its incessant + pattering. Heron’s harsh voice was raised in the stillness. + </p> + <p> + “What is it now?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “A runner, citizen,” replied the sergeant, “coming through the wood from + the right.” + </p> + <p> + “From the right?” and the exclamation was accompanied by a volley of + oaths; “the direction of the chateau? Chauvelin has been attacked; he is + sending a messenger back to me. Sergeant—sergeant, close up round + that coach; guard your prisoners as you value your life, and—” + </p> + <p> + The rest of his words were drowned in a yell of such violent fury that the + horses, already over-nervous and fidgety, reared in mad terror, and the + men had the greatest difficulty in holding them in. For a few minutes + noisy confusion prevailed, until the men could quieten their quivering + animals with soft words and gentle pattings. + </p> + <p> + Then the troopers obeyed, closing up round the coach wherein brother and + sister sat huddled against one another. + </p> + <p> + One of the men said under his breath: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but the citizen agent knows how to curse! One day he will break his + gullet with the fury of his oaths.” + </p> + <p> + In the meanwhile the runner had come nearer, always at the same breathless + speed. + </p> + <p> + The next moment he was challenged: + </p> + <p> + “Qui va la?” + </p> + <p> + “A friend!” he replied, panting and exhausted. “Where is citizen Heron?” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” came the reply in a voice hoarse with passionate excitement. “Come + up, damn you. Be quick!” + </p> + <p> + “A lanthorn, citizen,” suggested one of the drivers. + </p> + <p> + “No—no—not now. Here! Where the devil are we?” + </p> + <p> + “We are close to the chapel on our left, citizen,” said the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + The runner, whose eyes were no doubt accustomed to the gloom, had drawn + nearer to the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “The gates of the chateau,” he said, still somewhat breathlessly, “are + just opposite here on the right, citizen. I have just come through them.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak up, man!” and Heron’s voice now sounded as if choked with passion. + “Citizen Chauvelin sent you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He bade me tell you that he has gained access to the chateau, and + that Capet is not there.” + </p> + <p> + A series of citizen Heron’s choicest oaths interrupted the man’s speech. + Then he was curtly ordered to proceed, and he resumed his report. + </p> + <p> + “Citizen Chauvelin rang at the door of the chateau; after a while he was + admitted by an old servant, who appeared to be in charge, but the place + seemed otherwise absolutely deserted—only—” + </p> + <p> + “Only what? Go on; what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “As we rode through the park it seemed to us as if we were being watched, + and followed. We heard distinctly the sound of horses behind and around + us, but we could see nothing; and now, when I ran back, again I heard. + There are others in the park to-night besides us, citizen.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence after that. It seemed as if the flood of Heron’s + blasphemous eloquence had spent itself at last. + </p> + <p> + “Others in the park!” And now his voice was scarcely above a whisper, + hoarse and trembling. “How many? Could you see?” + </p> + <p> + “No, citizen, we could not see; but there are horsemen lurking round the + chateau now. Citizen Chauvelin took four men into the house with him and + left the others on guard outside. He bade me tell you that it might be + safer to send him a few more men if you could spare them. There are a + number of disused farm buildings quite close to the gates, and he + suggested that all the horses be put up there for the night, and that the + men come up to the chateau on foot; it would be quicker and safer, for the + darkness is intense.” + </p> + <p> + Even while the man spoke the forest in the distance seemed to wake from + its solemn silence, the wind on its wings brought sounds of life and + movement different from the prowling of beasts or the screeching of + night-birds. It was the furtive advance of men, the quick whispers of + command, of encouragement, of the human animal preparing to attack his + kind. But all in the distance still, all muffled, all furtive as yet. + </p> + <p> + “Sergeant!” It was Heron’s voice, but it too was subdued, and almost calm + now; “can you see the chapel?” + </p> + <p> + “More clearly, citizen,” replied the sergeant. “It is on our left; quite a + small building, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Then dismount, and walk all round it. See that there are no windows or + door in the rear.” + </p> + <p> + There was a prolonged silence, during which those distant sounds of men + moving, of furtive preparations for attack, struck distinctly through the + night. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite and Armand, clinging to one another, not knowing what to think, + nor yet what to fear, heard the sounds mingling with those immediately + round them, and Marguerite murmured under her breath: + </p> + <p> + “It is de Batz and some of his friends; but what can they do? What can + Percy hope for now?” + </p> + <p> + But of Percy she could hear and see nothing. The darkness and the silence + had drawn their impenetrable veil between his unseen presence and her own + consciousness. She could see the coach in which he was, but Heron’s + hideous personality, his head with its battered hat and soiled bandage, + had seemed to obtrude itself always before her gaze, blotting out from her + mind even the knowledge that Percy was there not fifty yards away from + her. + </p> + <p> + So strong did this feeling grow in her that presently the awful dread + seized upon her that he was no longer there; that he was dead, worn out + with fatigue and illness brought on by terrible privations, or if not dead + that he had swooned, that he was unconscious—his spirit absent from + his body. She remembered that frightful yell of rage and hate which Heron + had uttered a few minutes ago. Had the brute vented his fury on his + helpless, weakened prisoner, and stilled forever those lips that, mayhap, + had mocked him to the last? + </p> + <p> + Marguerite could not guess. She hardly knew what to hope. Vaguely, when + the thought of Percy lying dead beside his enemy floated through her + aching brain, she was almost conscious of a sense of relief at the thought + that at least he would be spared the pain of the final, inevitable + cataclysm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII. THE CHAPEL OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE + </h2> + <p> + The sergeant’s voice broke in upon her misery. + </p> + <p> + The man had apparently done as the citizen agent had ordered, and had + closely examined the little building that stood on the left—a vague, + black mass more dense than the surrounding gloom. + </p> + <p> + “It is all solid stone, citizen,” he said; “iron gates in front, closed + but not locked, rusty key in the lock, which turns quite easily; no + windows or door in the rear.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite certain, citizen; it is plain, solid stone at the back, and the + only possible access to the interior is through the iron gate in front.” + </p> + <p> + “Good.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite could only just hear Heron speaking to the sergeant. Darkness + enveloped every form and deadened every sound. Even the harsh voice which + she had learned to loathe and to dread sounded curiously subdued and + unfamiliar. Heron no longer seemed inclined to storm, to rage, or to + curse. The momentary danger, the thought of failure, the hope of revenge, + had apparently cooled his temper, strengthened his determination, and + forced his voice down to a little above a whisper. He gave his orders + clearly and firmly, and the words came to Marguerite on the wings of the + wind with strange distinctness, borne to her ears by the darkness itself, + and the hush that lay over the wood. + </p> + <p> + “Take half a dozen men with you, sergeant,” she heard him say, “and join + citizen Chauvelin at the chateau. You can stable your horses in the farm + buildings close by, as he suggests and run to him on foot. You and your + men should quickly get the best of a handful of midnight prowlers; you are + well armed and they only civilians. Tell citizen Chauvelin that I in the + meanwhile will take care of our prisoners. The Englishman I shall put in + irons and lock up inside the chapel, with five men under the command of + your corporal to guard him, the other two I will drive myself straight to + Crecy with what is left of the escort. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “We may not reach Crecy until two hours after midnight, but directly I + arrive I will send citizen Chauvelin further reinforcements, which, + however, I hope may not necessary, but which will reach him in the early + morning. Even if he is seriously attacked, he can, with fourteen men he + will have with him, hold out inside the castle through the night. Tell him + also that at dawn two prisoners who will be with me will be shot in the + courtyard of the guard-house at Crecy, but that whether he has got hold of + Capet or not he had best pick up the Englishman in the chapel in the + morning and bring him straight to Crecy, where I shall be awaiting him + ready to return to Paris. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “Then repeat what I said.” + </p> + <p> + “I am to take six men with me to reinforce citizen Chauvelin now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, citizen, will drive straight back to Crecy, and will send us + further reinforcements from there, which will reach us in the early + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “We are to hold the chateau against those unknown marauders if necessary + until the reinforcements come from Crecy. Having routed them, we return + here, pick up the Englishman whom you will have locked up in the chapel + under a strong guard commanded by Corporal Cassard, and join you forthwith + at Crecy.” + </p> + <p> + “This, whether citizen Chauvelin has got hold of Capet or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen, I understand,” concluded the sergeant imperturbably; “and I + am also to tell citizen Chauvelin that the two prisoners will be shot at + dawn in the courtyard of the guard-house at Crecy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That is all. Try to find the leader of the attacking party, and + bring him along to Crecy with the Englishman; but unless they are in very + small numbers do not trouble about the others. Now en avant; citizen + Chauvelin might be glad of your help. And—stay—order all the + men to dismount, and take the horses out of one of the coaches, then let + the men you are taking with you each lead a horse, or even two, and stable + them all in the farm buildings. I shall not need them, and could not spare + any of my men for the work later on. Remember that, above all, silence is + the order. When you are ready to start, come back to me here.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant moved away, and Marguerite heard him transmitting the citizen + agent’s orders to the soldiers. The dismounting was carried on in + wonderful silence—for silence had been one of the principal commands—only + one or two words reached her ears. + </p> + <p> + “First section and first half of second section fall in, right wheel. + First section each take two horses on the lead. Quietly now there; don’t + tug at his bridle—let him go.” + </p> + <p> + And after that a simple report: + </p> + <p> + “All ready, citizen!” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” was the response. “Now detail your corporal and two men to come + here to me, so that we may put the Englishman in irons, and take him at + once to the chapel, and four men to stand guard at the doors of the other + coach.” + </p> + <p> + The necessary orders were given, and after that there came the curt + command: + </p> + <p> + “En avant!” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant, with his squad and all the horses, was slowly moving away in + the night. The horses’ hoofs hardly made a noise on the soft carpet of + pine-needles and of dead fallen leaves, but the champing of the bits was + of course audible, and now and then the snorting of some poor, tired horse + longing for its stable. + </p> + <p> + Somehow in Marguerite’s fevered mind this departure of a squad of men + seemed like the final flitting of her last hope; the slow agony of the + familiar sounds, the retreating horses and soldiers moving away amongst + the shadows, took on a weird significance. Heron had given his last + orders. Percy, helpless and probably unconscious, would spend the night in + that dank chapel, while she and Armand would be taken back to Crecy, + driven to death like some insentient animals to the slaughter. + </p> + <p> + When the grey dawn would first begin to peep through the branches of the + pines Percy would be led back to Paris and the guillotine, and she and + Armand will have been sacrificed to the hatred and revenge of brutes. + </p> + <p> + The end had come, and there was nothing more to be done. Struggling, + fighting, scheming, could be of no avail now; but she wanted to get to her + husband; she wanted to be near him now that death was so imminent both for + him and for her. + </p> + <p> + She tried to envisage it all, quite calmly, just as she knew that Percy + would wish her to do. The inevitable end was there, and she would not give + to these callous wretches here the gratuitous spectacle of a despairing + woman fighting blindly against adverse Fate. + </p> + <p> + But she wanted to go to her husband. She felt that she could face death + more easily on the morrow if she could but see him once, if she could but + look once more into the eyes that had mirrored so much enthusiasm, such + absolute vitality and whole-hearted self-sacrifice, and such an intensity + of love and passion; if she could but kiss once more those lips that had + smiled through life, and would smile, she knew, even in the face of death. + </p> + <p> + She tried to open the carriage door, but it was held from without, and a + harsh voice cursed her, ordering her to sit still. + </p> + <p> + But she could lean out of the window and strain her eyes to see. They were + by now accustomed to the gloom, the dilated pupils taking in pictures of + vague forms moving like ghouls in the shadows. The other coach was not + far, and she could hear Heron’s voice, still subdued and calm, and the + curses of the men. But not a sound from Percy. + </p> + <p> + “I think the prisoner is unconscious,” she heard one of the men say. + </p> + <p> + “Lift him out of the carriage, then,” was Heron’s curt command; “and you + go and throw open the chapel gates.” + </p> + <p> + Marguerite saw it all. The movement, the crowd of men, two vague, black + forms lifting another one, which appeared heavy and inert, out of the + coach, and carrying it staggering up towards the chapel. + </p> + <p> + Then the forms disappeared, swallowed up by the more dense mass of the + little building, merged in with it, immovable as the stone itself. + </p> + <p> + Only a few words reached her now. + </p> + <p> + “He is unconscious.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave him there, then; he’ll not move!” + </p> + <p> + “Now close the gates!” + </p> + <p> + There was a loud clang, and Marguerite gave a piercing scream. She tore at + the handle of the carriage door. + </p> + <p> + “Armand, Armand, go to him!” she cried; and all her self-control, all her + enforced calm, vanished in an outburst of wild, agonising passion. “Let me + get to him, Armand! This is the end; get me to him, in the name of God!” + </p> + <p> + “Stop that woman screaming,” came Heron’s voice clearly through the night. + “Put her and the other prisoner in irons—quick!” + </p> + <p> + But while Marguerite expended her feeble strength in a mad, pathetic + effort to reach her husband, even now at this last hour, when all hope was + dead and Death was so nigh, Armand had already wrenched the carriage door + from the grasp of the soldier who was guarding it. He was of the South, + and knew the trick of charging an unsuspecting adversary with head thrust + forward like a bull inside a ring. Thus he knocked one of the soldiers + down and made a quick rush for the chapel gates. + </p> + <p> + The men, attacked so suddenly and in such complete darkness, did not wait + for orders. They closed in round Armand; one man drew his sabre and hacked + away with it in aimless rage. + </p> + <p> + But for the moment he evaded them all, pushing his way through them, not + heeding the blows that came on him from out the darkness. At last he + reached the chapel. With one bound he was at the gate, his numb fingers + fumbling for the lock, which he could not see. + </p> + <p> + It was a vigorous blow from Heron’s fist that brought him at last to his + knees, and even then his hands did not relax their hold; they gripped the + ornamental scroll of the gate, shook the gate itself in its rusty hinges, + pushed and pulled with the unreasoning strength of despair. He had a sabre + cut across his brow, and the blood flowed in a warm, trickling stream down + his face. But of this he was unconscious; all that he wanted, all that he + was striving for with agonising heart-beats and cracking sinews, was to + get to his friend, who was lying in there unconscious, abandoned—dead, + perhaps. + </p> + <p> + “Curse you,” struck Heron’s voice close to his ear. “Cannot some of you + stop this raving maniac?” + </p> + <p> + Then it was that the heavy blow on his head caused him a sensation of + sickness, and he fell on his knees, still gripping the ironwork. + </p> + <p> + Stronger hands than his were forcing him to loosen his hold; blows that + hurt terribly rained on his numbed fingers; he felt himself dragged away, + carried like an inert mass further and further from that gate which he + would have given his lifeblood to force open. + </p> + <p> + And Marguerite heard all this from the inside of the coach where she was + imprisoned as effectually as was Percy’s unconscious body inside that dark + chapel. She could hear the noise and scramble, and Heron’s hoarse + commands, the swift sabre strokes as they cut through the air. + </p> + <p> + Already a trooper had clapped irons on her wrists, two others held the + carriage doors. Now Armand was lifted back into the coach, and she could + not even help to make him comfortable, though as he was lifted in she + heard him feebly moaning. Then the carriage doors were banged to again. + </p> + <p> + “Do not allow either of the prisoners out again, on peril of your lives!” + came with a vigorous curse from Heron. + </p> + <p> + After which there was a moment’s silence; whispered commands came + spasmodically in deadened sound to her ear. + </p> + <p> + “Will the key turn?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “All secure?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, citizen. The prisoner is groaning.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him groan.” + </p> + <p> + “The empty coach, citizen? The horses have been taken out.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it standing where it is, then; citizen Chauvelin will need it in + the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Armand,” whispered Marguerite inside the coach, “did you see Percy?” + </p> + <p> + “It was so dark,” murmured Armand feebly; “but I saw him, just inside the + gates, where they had laid him down. I heard him groaning. Oh, my God!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, dear!” she said. “We can do nothing more, only die, as he lived, + bravely and with a smile on our lips, in memory of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Number 35 is wounded, citizen,” said one of the men. + </p> + <p> + “Curse the fool who did the mischief,” was the placid response. “Leave him + here with the guard.” + </p> + <p> + “How many of you are there left, then?” asked the same voice a moment + later. + </p> + <p> + “Only two, citizen; if one whole section remains with me at the chapel + door, and also the wounded man.” + </p> + <p> + “Two are enough for me, and five are not too many at the chapel door.” And + Heron’s coarse, cruel laugh echoed against the stone walls of the little + chapel. “Now then, one of you get into the coach, and the other go to the + horses’ heads; and remember, Corporal Cassard, that you and your men who + stay here to guard that chapel door are answerable to the whole nation + with your lives for the safety of the Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage door was thrown open, and a soldier stepped in and sat down + opposite Marguerite and Armand. Heron in the meanwhile was apparently + scrambling up the box. Marguerite could hear him muttering curses as he + groped for the reins, and finally gathered them into his hand. + </p> + <p> + The springs of the coach creaked and groaned as the vehicle slowly swung + round; the wheels ploughed deeply through the soft carpet of dead leaves. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite felt Armand’s inert body leaning heavily against her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Are you in pain, dear?” she asked softly. + </p> + <p> + He made no reply, and she thought that he had fainted. It was better so; + at least the next dreary hours would flit by for him in the blissful state + of unconsciousness. Now at last the heavy carriage began to move more + evenly. The soldier at the horses’ heads was stepping along at a rapid + pace. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite would have given much even now to look back once more at the + dense black mass, blacker and denser than any shadow that had ever + descended before on God’s earth, which held between its cold, cruel walls + all that she loved in the world. + </p> + <p> + But her wrists were fettered by the irons, which cut into her flesh when + she moved. She could no longer lean out of the window, and she could not + even hear. The whole forest was hushed, the wind was lulled to rest; wild + beasts and night-birds were silent and still. And the wheels of the coach + creaked in the ruts, bearing Marguerite with every turn further and + further away from the man who lay helpless in the chapel of the Holy + Sepulchre. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII. THE WANING MOON + </h2> + <p> + Armand had wakened from his attack of faintness, and brother and sister + sat close to one another, shoulder touching shoulder. That sense of + nearness was the one tiny spark of comfort to both of them on this dreary, + dreary way. + </p> + <p> + The coach had lumbered on unceasingly since all eternity—so it + seemed to them both. Once there had been a brief halt, when Heron’s rough + voice had ordered the soldier at the horses’ heads to climb on the box + beside him, and once—it had been a very little while ago—a + terrible cry of pain and terror had rung through the stillness of the + night. Immediately after that the horses had been put at a more rapid + pace, but it had seemed to Marguerite as if that one cry of pain had been + repeated by several others which sounded more feeble and soon appeared to + be dying away in the distance behind. + </p> + <p> + The soldier who sat opposite to them must have heard the cry too, for he + jumped up, as if wakened from sleep, and put his head out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear that cry, citizen?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + But only a curse answered him, and a peremptory command not to lose sight + of the prisoners by poking his head out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear the cry?” asked the soldier of Marguerite as he made haste + to obey. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! What could it be?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “It seems dangerous to drive so fast in this darkness,” muttered the + soldier. + </p> + <p> + After which remark he, with the stolidity peculiar to his kind, + figuratively shrugged his shoulders, detaching himself, as it were, of the + whole affair. + </p> + <p> + “We should be out of the forest by now,” he remarked in an undertone a + little while later; “the way seemed shorter before.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the coach gave an unexpected lurch to one side, and after much + groaning and creaking of axles and springs it came to a standstill, and + the citizen agent was heard cursing loudly and then scrambling down from + the box. + </p> + <p> + The next moment the carriage-door was pulled open from without, and the + harsh voice called out peremptorily: + </p> + <p> + “Citizen soldier, here—quick!—quick!—curse you!—we’ll + have one of the horses down if you don’t hurry!” + </p> + <p> + The soldier struggled to his feet; it was never good to be slow in obeying + the citizen agent’s commands. He was half-asleep and no doubt numb with + cold and long sitting still; to accelerate his movements he was suddenly + gripped by the arm and dragged incontinently out of the coach. + </p> + <p> + Then the door was slammed to again, either by a rough hand or a sudden + gust of wind, Marguerite could not tell; she heard a cry of rage and one + of terror, and Heron’s raucous curses. She cowered in the corner of the + carriage with Armand’s head against her shoulder, and tried to close her + ears to all those hideous sounds. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly all the sounds were hushed and all around everything became + perfectly calm and still—so still that at first the silence + oppressed her with a vague, nameless dread. It was as if Nature herself + had paused, that she might listen; and the silence became more and more + absolute, until Marguerite could hear Armand’s soft, regular breathing + close to her ear. + </p> + <p> + The window nearest to her was open, and as she leaned forward with that + paralysing sense of oppression a breath of pure air struck full upon her + nostrils and brought with it a briny taste as if from the sea. + </p> + <p> + It was not quite so dark; and there was a sense as of open country + stretching out to the limits of the horizon. Overhead a vague greyish + light suffused the sky, and the wind swept the clouds in great rolling + banks right across that light. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite gazed upward with a more calm feeling that was akin to + gratitude. That pale light, though so wan and feeble, was thrice welcome + after that inky blackness wherein shadows were less dark than the lights. + She watched eagerly the bank of clouds driven by the dying gale. + </p> + <p> + The light grew brighter and faintly golden, now the banks of clouds—storm-tossed + and fleecy—raced past one another, parted and reunited like veils of + unseen giant dancers waved by hands that controlled infinite space—advanced + and rushed and slackened speed again—united and finally torn asunder + to reveal the waning moon, honey-coloured and mysterious, rising as if + from an invisible ocean far away. + </p> + <p> + The wan pale light spread over the wide stretch of country, throwing over + it as it spread dull tones of indigo and of blue. Here and there sparse, + stunted trees with fringed gaunt arms bending to prevailing winds + proclaimed the neighbourhood of the sea. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite gazed on the picture which the waning moon had so suddenly + revealed; but she gazed with eyes that knew not what they saw. The moon + had risen on her right—there lay the east—and the coach must + have been travelling due north, whereas Crecy... + </p> + <p> + In the absolute silence that reigned she could perceive from far, very far + away, the sound of a church clock striking the midnight hour; and now it + seemed to her supersensitive senses that a firm footstep was treading the + soft earth, a footstep that drew nearer—and then nearer still. + </p> + <p> + Nature did pause to listen. The wind was hushed, the night-birds in the + forest had gone to rest. Marguerite’s heart beat so fast that its + throbbings choked her, and a dizziness clouded her consciousness. + </p> + <p> + But through this state of torpor she heard the opening of the carriage + door, she felt the onrush of that pure, briny air, and she felt a long, + burning kiss upon her hands. + </p> + <p> + She thought then that she was really dead, and that God in His infinite + love had opened to her the outer gates of Paradise. + </p> + <p> + “My love!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + She was leaning back in the carriage and her eyes were closed, but she + felt that firm fingers removed the irons from her wrists, and that a pair + of warm lips were pressed there in their stead. + </p> + <p> + “There, little woman, that’s better so—is it not? Now let me get + hold of poor old Armand!” + </p> + <p> + It was Heaven, of course, else how could earth hold such heavenly joy? + </p> + <p> + “Percy!” exclaimed Armand in an awed voice. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, dear!” murmured Marguerite feebly; “we are in Heaven you and I—” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon a ringing laugh woke the echoes of the silent night. + </p> + <p> + “In Heaven, dear heart!” And the voice had a delicious earthly ring in its + whole-hearted merriment. “Please God, you’ll both be at Portel with me + before dawn.” + </p> + <p> + Then she was indeed forced to believe. She put out her hands and groped + for him, for it was dark inside the carriage; she groped, and felt his + massive shoulders leaning across the body of the coach, while his fingers + busied themselves with the irons on Armand’s wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t touch that brute’s filthy coat with your dainty fingers, dear + heart,” he said gaily. “Great Lord! I have worn that wretch’s clothes for + over two hours; I feel as if the dirt had penetrated to my bones.” + </p> + <p> + Then with that gesture so habitual to him he took her head between his two + hands, and drawing her to him until the wan light from without lit up the + face that he worshipped, he gazed his fill into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + She could only see the outline of his head silhouetted against the + wind-tossed sky; she could not see his eyes, nor his lips, but she felt + his nearness, and the happiness of that almost caused her to swoon. + </p> + <p> + “Come out into the open, my lady fair,” he murmured, and though she could + not see, she could feel that he smiled; “let God’s pure air blow through + your hair and round your dear head. Then, if you can walk so far, there’s + a small half-way house close by here. I have knocked up the none too + amiable host. You and Armand could have half an hour’s rest there before + we go further on our way.” + </p> + <p> + “But you, Percy?—are you safe?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, m’dear, we are all of us safe until morning-time enough to reach Le + Portel, and to be aboard the Day-Dream before mine amiable friend M. + Chambertin has discovered his worthy colleague lying gagged and bound + inside the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. By Gad! how old Heron will curse—the + moment he can open his mouth!” + </p> + <p> + He half helped, half lifted her out of the carriage. The strong pure air + suddenly rushing right through to her lungs made her feel faint, and she + almost fell. But it was good to feel herself falling, when one pair of + arms amongst the millions on the earth were there to receive her. + </p> + <p> + “Can you walk, dear heart?” he asked. “Lean well on me—it is not + far, and the rest will do you good.” + </p> + <p> + “But you, Percy—” + </p> + <p> + He laughed, and the most complete joy of living seemed to resound through + that laugh. Her arm was in his, and for one moment he stood still while + his eyes swept the far reaches of the country, the mellow distance still + wrapped in its mantle of indigo, still untouched by the mysterious light + of the waning moon. + </p> + <p> + He pressed her arm against his heart, but his right hand was stretched out + towards the black wall of the forest behind him, towards the dark crests + of the pines in which the dying wind sent its last mournful sighs. + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart,” he said, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his + excitement, “beyond the stretch of that wood, from far away over there, + there are cries and moans of anguish that come to my ear even now. But for + you, dear, I would cross that wood to-night and re-enter Paris to-morrow. + But for you, dear—but for you,” he reiterated earnestly as he + pressed her closer to him, for a bitter cry had risen to her lips. + </p> + <p> + She went on in silence. Her happiness was great—as great as was her + pain. She had found him again, the man whom she worshipped, the husband + whom she thought never to see again on earth. She had found him, and not + even now—not after those terrible weeks of misery and suffering + unspeakable—could she feel that love had triumphed over the wild, + adventurous spirit, the reckless enthusiasm, the ardour of self-sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX. THE LAND OF ELDORADO + </h2> + <p> + It seems that in the pocket of Heron’s coat there was a letter-case with + some few hundred francs. It was amusing to think that the brute’s money + helped to bribe the ill-tempered keeper of the half-way house to receive + guests at midnight, and to ply them well with food, drink, and the shelter + of a stuffy coffee-room. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite sat silently beside her husband, her hand in his. Armand, + opposite to them, had both elbows on the table. He looked pale and wan, + with a bandage across his forehead, and his glowing eyes were resting on + his chief. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! you demmed young idiot,” said Blakeney merrily, “you nearly upset my + plan in the end, with your yelling and screaming outside the chapel + gates.” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to get to you, Percy. I thought those brutes had got you there + inside that building.” + </p> + <p> + “Not they!” he exclaimed. “It was my friend Heron whom they had trussed + and gagged, and whom my amiable friend M. Chambertin will find in there + to-morrow morning. By Gad! I would go back if only for the pleasure of + hearing Heron curse when first the gag is taken from his mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “But how was it all done, Percy? And there was de Batz—” + </p> + <p> + “De Batz was part of the scheme I had planned for mine own escape before I + knew that those brutes meant to take Marguerite and you as hostages for my + good behaviour. What I hoped then was that under cover of a tussle or a + fight I could somehow or other contrive to slip through their fingers. It + was a chance, and you know my belief in bald-headed Fortune, with the one + solitary hair. Well, I meant to grab that hair; and at the worst I could + but die in the open and not caged in that awful hole like some noxious + vermin. I knew that de Batz would rise to the bait. I told him in my + letter that the Dauphin would be at the Chateau d’Ourde this night, but + that I feared the revolutionary Government had got wind of this fact, and + were sending an armed escort to bring the lad away. This letter Ffoulkes + took to him; I knew that he would make a vigorous effort to get the + Dauphin into his hands, and that during the scuffle that one hair on + Fortune’s head would for one second only, mayhap, come within my reach. I + had so planned the expedition that we were bound to arrive at the forest + of Boulogne by nightfall, and night is always a useful ally. But at the + guard-house of the Rue Ste. Anne I realised for the first time that those + brutes had pressed me into a tighter corner than I had pre-conceived.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and once again that look of recklessness swept over his face, + and his eyes—still hollow and circled—shone with the + excitement of past memories. + </p> + <p> + “I was such a weak, miserable wretch, then,” he said, in answer to + Marguerite’s appeal. “I had to try and build up some strength, when—Heaven + forgive me for the sacrilege—I had unwittingly risked your precious + life, dear heart, in that blind endeavour to save mine own. By Gad! it was + no easy task in that jolting vehicle with that noisome wretch beside me + for sole company; yet I ate and I drank and I slept for three days and two + nights, until the hour when in the darkness I struck Heron from behind, + half-strangled him first, then gagged him, and finally slipped into his + filthy coat and put that loathsome bandage across my head, and his + battered hat above it all. The yell he gave when first I attacked him made + every horse rear—you must remember it—the noise effectually + drowned our last scuffle in the coach. Chauvelin was the only man who + might have suspected what had occurred, but he had gone on ahead, and + bald-headed Fortune had passed by me, and I had managed to grab its one + hair. After that it was all quite easy. The sergeant and the soldiers had + seen very little of Heron and nothing of me; it did not take a great + effort to deceive them, and the darkness of the night was my most faithful + friend. His raucous voice was not difficult to imitate, and darkness + always muffles and changes every tone. Anyway, it was not likely that + those loutish soldiers would even remotely suspect the trick that was + being played on them. The citizen agent’s orders were promptly and + implicitly obeyed. The men never even thought to wonder that after + insisting on an escort of twenty he should drive off with two prisoners + and only two men to guard them. If they did wonder, it was not theirs to + question. Those two troopers are spending an uncomfortable night somewhere + in the forest of Boulogne, each tied to a tree, and some two leagues apart + one from the other. And now,” he added gaily, “en voiture, my fair lady; + and you, too, Armand. ‘Tis seven leagues to Le Portel, and we must be + there before dawn.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Andrew’s intention was to make for Calais first, there to open + communication with the Day-Dream and then for Le Portel,” said Marguerite; + “after that he meant to strike back for the Chateau d’Ourde in search of + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we’ll still find him at Le Portel—I shall know how to lay + hands on him; but you two must get aboard the Day-Dream at once, for + Ffoulkes and I can always look after ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + It was one hour after midnight when—refreshed with food and rest—Marguerite, + Armand and Sir Percy left the half-way house. Marguerite was standing in + the doorway ready to go. Percy and Armand had gone ahead to bring the + coach along. + </p> + <p> + “Percy,” whispered Armand, “Marguerite does not know?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she does not, you young fool,” retorted Percy lightly. “If you + try and tell her I think I would smash your head.” + </p> + <p> + “But you—” said the young man with sudden vehemence; “can you bear + the sight of me? My God! when I think—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t think, my good Armand—not of that anyway. Only think of the + woman for whose sake you committed a crime—if she is pure and good, + woo her and win her—not just now, for it were foolish to go back to + Paris after her, but anon, when she comes to England and all these past + days are forgotten—then love her as much as you can, Armand. Learn + your lesson of love better than I have learnt mine; do not cause Jeanne + Lange those tears of anguish which my mad spirit brings to your sister’s + eyes. You were right, Armand, when you said that I do not know how to + love!” + </p> + <p> + But on board the Day-Dream, when all danger was past, Marguerite felt that + he did. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of El Dorado, by Baroness Orczy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EL DORADO *** + +***** This file should be named 1752-h.htm or 1752-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/1752/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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