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diff --git a/30300-h/30300-h.htm b/30300-h/30300-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0ee582 --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/30300-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5442 @@ +<!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"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Orphans of the Storm, by Henry McMahon.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; text-indent: 0; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + + .caption {font-size: 80%; text-align:center;} + blockquote {display:block; margin:.75em 5%; font-size:90%;} + h1 {font-size:1.6em;} + h1,h2,h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h2 {font-size:1.4em;} + h3 {font-size:1.2em;} + hr.spcl {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:10%;} + p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center;} + + .chsp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;} + .figtag {height: 1px;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + hr.tb {border: none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 33%; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;} + hr.toprule {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + p.center {text-align: center !important;} + p.cg {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-align: left; width: 101%;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + td.chalgn {text-align:right; margin-top:0; padding-right:1em;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30300 ***</div> + +<h1>ORPHANS OF THE STORM</h1> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' width='393' height='591' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +LILLIAN AND DOROTHY GISH AS THE TWO ORPHANS<br /> +IN D. W. GRIFFITH’S ORPHANS OF THE STORM. <i>Frontispiece</i>.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table style="margin: auto; border: double; width:25em;" summary=""> +<tr><td> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.2em;margin-bottom:20px;margin-top:20px;'>ORPHANS<br />OF THE STORM</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-bottom:40px;'>A COMPLETE NOVEL</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:10px;'>FROM D. W. GRIFFITH’S MOTION PICTURE<br />EPIC ON THE IMMORTAL THEME OF</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-bottom:40px;'>THE TWO ORPHANS</p> +<p class='tp' >NOVELIZED BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:30px;font-variant:small-caps;font-size:1.2em;'>HENRY MacMAHON</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;'>ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM<br />THE PHOTO-PLAY</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<div style='margin:25px auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.jpg' /> +</div> +</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;letter-spacing:.1em;'>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p class='tp' style='letter-spacing:0.1em;margin-bottom:20px;'>PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</p> +</td></tr> +</table> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.8em;margin-top:10px;'>Made in the United States of America</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.8em;font-variant:small-caps;'><i>Copyright 1922</i><br />BY HENRY MacMAHON</p> +<hr class='spcl' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.8em;'><i>All rights reserved, including those<br />of translation into foreign languages.</i></p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Two Girls of Normandy</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_I_TWO_GIRLS_OF_NORMANDY'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Journey to Paris</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_II_THE_JOURNEY_TO_PARIS'>5</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>What Happened at the Coach House</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_III_WHAT_HAPPENED_AT_THE_COACH_HOUSE'>12</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Fete of Bel-Air</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IV_THE_FETE_OF_BELAIR'>20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Bel-Air––(continued)</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_V_BELAIRCONTINUED'>27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>In the Frochards’ Den</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VI_IN_THE_FROCHARDS_DEN'>33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Tangled Skeins</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VII_TANGLED_SKEINS'>38</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Honor of the Family</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VIII_THE_HONOR_OF_THE_FAMILY'>46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Friends of the People</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IX_FRIENDS_OF_THE_PEOPLE'>54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Attack on Danton</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_X_THE_ATTACK_ON_DANTON'>61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Louise Before Notre Dame</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XI_LOUISE_BEFORE_NOTRE_DAME'>67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Love, Master of Hearts</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XII_LOVE_MASTER_OF_HEARTS'>72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Recognition</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIII_THE_RECOGNITION'>76</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Down in the Depths</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIV_DOWN_IN_THE_DEPTHS'>84</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Light Rays in the Darkness</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XV_LIGHT_RAYS_IN_THE_DARKNESS'>91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Revolution Is Here!</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVI_REVOLUTION_IS_HERE'>100</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Prison Delivery––And an Encounter</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVII_PRISON_DELIVERYAND_AN_ENCOUNTER'>108</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>“There Is No Law––”</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVIII_THERE_IS_NO_LAW'>114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Knife Duel and Escape</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIX_KNIFE_DUEL_AND_ESCAPE'>124</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The New Tyranny</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XX_THE_NEW_TYRANNY'>129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Adventures of a Pilgrim</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXI_ADVENTURES_OF_A_PILGRIM'>136</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Adventures of a Pilgrim (continued)</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXII_ADVENTURES_OF_A_PILGRIM_CONTINUED'>142</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Before the Dread Tribunal</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXIII_BEFORE_THE_DREAD_TRIBUNAL'>149</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Vengeance Come to Judgment</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXIV_VENGEANCE_COME_TO_JUDGMENT'>156</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Voice of Danton</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXV_THE_VOICE_OF_DANTON'>160</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Reprieve or Agony</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXVI_REPRIEVE_OR_AGONY'>169</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Farewell</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXVII_THE_FAREWELL'>173</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Maniac With a Dagger</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXVIII_MANIAC_WITH_A_DAGGER'>178</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Danton’s Riders</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXIX_DANTONS_RIDERS'>184</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Aftermath</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXX_THE_AFTERMATH'>191</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span></div> +<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:2em;font-size:1.4em;'>ORPHANS OF THE STORM</p> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I_TWO_GIRLS_OF_NORMANDY' id='CHAPTER_I_TWO_GIRLS_OF_NORMANDY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>TWO GIRLS OF NORMANDY</h3> +</div> +<p>In all the countryside of Evreux, nay in +all the beauteous old-time Normandy of +the period of 1789, there were no lovelier +<i>filles du peuple</i> than Henriette and Louise +Girard.</p> +<p>Their romantic story was often whispered +by country gossips. In infancy +foundlings on the church steps of Notre +Dame, then brought to this quiet Norman +backwater by the Girards and raised as +sisters, they had lost both their protectors +by death. The same visitation of the dread +plague had cost poor little Louise her eyesight.</p> +<p>Since the orphaning and especially since +the blindness of Louise, Henriette cared +for her with a love overwhelming as that of +a mother for her helpless baby. She looked +forward eagerly to the day when they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span> +might leave the kinswoman’s where they +were staying and go to Paris.</p> +<p>A local doctor had imparted a precious +ray of hope.</p> +<p>“As for me, voila! I can do nothing,” +he said. “Mais, is it not that there are +learned faculties in Paris––men skilled in +chirurgery even to the taking off of cataracts +and the restoration of sight? Of a +truth, yes! En avant, mes enfants! Let +Monsieur Martin, your ancient cousin in +Paris, have the care of you whilst the +chirurgeons exert their skill––presto! if all +goes well, the little one shall yet see!”</p> +<p>Henriette’s heart thumped with joy o’er +the cheering prospect. She kissed and +fondled Louise and even teased her. Reading +or chatting to the blind girl, sewing her +frocks or performing a thousand and one +kindly services, her sole thought was to +distract and enliven the prisoned soul behind +the darkened windows.</p> +<p>And so a broad smile crossed the lovely +sightless features and even the dulled orbs +radiated a little as Henriette excitedly told +the details of the proposed trip, and teased:</p> +<p>“––And, oh, yes––I forgot––when Miss +Baby’s eyes are quite well, I shall sit down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +like a lady––and you’ll do all the work!”</p> +<p>They were quite in a fever of delighted +ardor over the preparations for the journey.</p> +<p>Elder sister, attending to everything, +pronounced it perfect with gay little pats +of quaint panniered costumes, fitting of +banded sailor hats o’er white coifs, recurling +of ringlets, and dainty polishing of slippers. +The graceful little figures seemed elfin and +fairy-like in the half sleeves and low corsages +of tight bodices from which depended +enormously full skirts set off by cute pinafores.</p> +<p>Round boxes, baskets or bags on either +arm and even the rainy-day umbrella, they +waited in delicious expectancy the serving +man fetching the brass-studded cowhide +trunk, to the very last moment when to +Henriette’s surprise the blind girl pouted +and drew back!</p> +<p>She groped until her fingers touched a +chair, then sat down––kerplump!</p> +<p>“I won’t go!” announced Louise firmly. +“Y-you’ll meet somebody or other in Paris––get +married––and––and––I’ll be left <i>all +alone</i>!”</p> +<p>The little general of the expedition paced +hurriedly up and down the floor like a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +Napoleon at Elba. Shocked surprise at +Louise’s awful insinuation struggled with +panic fear. At last Henriette faced her +sister squarely. She came over and knelt +beside her chair, raising a small hand to +high Heaven.</p> +<p>“Desert you for a Man!” said Henriette, +breathlessly. “Why, the very idea that I +could ever think such a thing. Dear, here +is my right hand; take it and bear witness: +I solemnly swear <i>never to marry till you +yourself can see and approve my husband</i>!”</p> +<p>The left hand of Louise traveled up till +it met and lay flat on the other’s upraised +palm. An expression of happiness overspread +the blind girl’s face. She leaned +over and kissed her sister. The two girls +rose and left the old home of Evreux.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_II_THE_JOURNEY_TO_PARIS' id='CHAPTER_II_THE_JOURNEY_TO_PARIS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>THE JOURNEY TO PARIS</h3> +</div> +<p>Locomotion in those pre-railroad days +was by stage coach except for the rich and +noble who rode in their chaises. The way +of the diligence led past winding streams +and bright meadows busy with haymakers; +past picturesque water mills and stone +chateaux, anon along tree-shaded avenues +grateful in their coolness.</p> +<p>Hard as the leathern seats were and however +wearisome the ride, the girls forgot +discomfort in Henriette’s description of the +sights and scenes and Louise’s just as eager +listening. Then at the stops the young +women would get out and stretch their +weary limbs whereof they suddenly became +aware as the motion ceased. They were +the only passengers, with unlimited time +for the naive confidences which girlhood +loves.</p> +<p>“Are you sure that Cousin Martin will +really meet us at the Paris coach house?” +asked the blind sister anxiously.</p> +<p>“I wrote him that we were coming,” replied +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +Henriette simply. “Of course he will +be there and awaiting our arrival.”</p> +<p>“But if he should not––”</p> +<p>“Then, we have his address and will go +to his house. Never fear, little sister, it +will be all right....”</p> +<p>The lumbering coach-and-six did its hundred +miles a day, bad roads or good roads. +But within a few miles of Paris a whiffletree +broke, the ungainly vehicle stopped, +and the men jumped off to hold the horses +and repair the damage. Henriette and +Louise soon left the hard seats for a few +minutes too.</p> +<p>Down the other side of the narrow turn +of the road where the accident had occurred, +thundered the beautiful carved and +gilded chaise of a famous nobleman, Marquis +de Praille, accompanied by gallant outriders +and backed by liveried footmen on +the high rear seats. Inside the equipage +were the Marquis and his commissionaire +La Fleur.</p> +<p>The black and dusty old stage coach +blocked the way.</p> +<p>As the aristocrat’s journey rudely +stopped, with the chaise horses thrown +back on their haunches, a bewigged and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +powdered head was thrust out of the window, +roaring:</p> +<p>“What is the meaning of this?”</p> +<p>Descending presently with his follower +to survey the scene, the noble Marquis enraged +at the blocking of his day’s pleasuring +belabored the chief ostler with his cane. +Smartly the blows rained down on the +cowering sufferer, alternate right and left +in rhythmic strokes that touched each and +several part of the canaille anatomy.</p> +<p>This gentle exercise finished, the Marquis +espied around the corner of the coach +the two young passengers. Another side +of the Grand Seigneur’s nature disclosed +itself.</p> +<p>Mon Dieu, what a vision! Blue eyes, +yellow ringlets framing most kissable features, +dainty form, twinkling feet, flower-like +elegance––a rustic Psyche far more to +be desired than the ladies of the Court! +The Marquis hardly looked twice at the +blind girl. All his glances were for Henriette.</p> +<p>Self-conscious, the noble gentleman +plumed and preened. Patting down his +somewhat ruffled apparel, adjusting his +fashionable wig and peruke, and touching +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +up his mouth with the lipstick that the dandies +of that age carried, he advanced elegantly +upon the young women, cane in +one hand and the other toying delicately +with a hand muff.</p> +<p>Henriette curtsied and smiled, and bade +Louise do the same. They knew not the +ways of Courts, but native courtesy and +naive simplicity were theirs. Presently the +elder girl found herself telling the distinguished +personage all the details of their +trip, the appointment with M. Martin, and +the hope of curing Louise by a visit to the +Faculty.</p> +<p>The gallant de Praille, all bows and +smirks, was offering them the hospitality +of the chaise. What a grand stranger, +truly! A regal caress of Henriette’s fingers +in the handclasp. Most patronizing (or +was it odious familiarity?) his dainty touch +of her bare arms; the jeweled hand that +toyed with her ringlets; the dexterous move +as if to encircle her waist; the playing––in +the airiest, most fluttering manner imaginable––with +the lace that draped her adorable +little bosom!</p> +<p>Quietly Henriette replied to his overtures:</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></div> +<p>“No, monsieur, I think it is best that we +go in our own coach!”</p> +<p>The chastiser of canaille and charmer of +ladies did not seem a whit abashed. Paying +them ceremonious farewell, he withdrew +and repaired to his equipage, the road for +which was now clear. The girls stood a +minute giggling at his mannerisms, as +Henriette described his finery and imitated +his peacock airs.</p> +<p>The girls would not have smiled had they +understood. La Fleur, whom they had +scarcely noticed, was the pander of the +Marquis’s vices. The two were deep in +plot. ’Twas whispered talk, but a chance +bystander might at least have overheard +the words:</p> +<p>“... At my fete of Bel-Air––make no +mistake, La Fleur––I rely on you. One +hundred louis, the reward....”</p> +<p>Or another scene that marked de Praille’s +entry into Paris, might have interested +them. Driving recklessly to make up time +lost in the blockade, the nobleman’s equipage +knocked down and ran over a luckless +denizen of the faubourgs. Carelessly flinging +out gold to the relatives of the dead +woman who were sobbing or cursing him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +he leaned forward and inquired most +solicitously of the driver:</p> +<p>“<i>But––are the horses hurt?</i>”</p> +<p>Indeed the nobles of that time regarded +the masses as little if any superior to cattle +or any other of their possessions.</p> +<p>In the country the common man toiled +a serf without wages, for his master; while +in Paris itself, the centre of gayety and +fashion, the fruit of his toil was expended +by the aristocrats in prodigal luxury.</p> +<p>The bourgeoisie or middle class bore the +brunt of the taxes. A gay parasitic element, +the demi-monde, ministered to +the nobles’ pleasures. Below, the “submerged +tenth” of the thievish and begging +classes plied their questionable trades, with +a large margin of the city’s population on +the very verge of starvation.</p> +<p>It hints eloquently of the terrible conditions +that there were no less than <i>thirty +thousand professional beggars in Paris at +this time</i>. Their wan, pinched faces, gaunt +forms and palsied vitality were an outstanding +reproach to a flower-like but decadent +aristocratic culture founded on the +muck of cruelty and oppression.</p> +<p>Nothing had the girls (or the simpleminded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +country Doctor who sped them) +known of the dangers or pitfalls of the +city. Vile gallantry or viler underworld +was looking for just such prey....</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_III_WHAT_HAPPENED_AT_THE_COACH_HOUSE' id='CHAPTER_III_WHAT_HAPPENED_AT_THE_COACH_HOUSE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COACH HOUSE</h3> +</div> +<p>The Normandy-Paris stage swung into +the city as the shades of evening were falling +and deposited our heroines at journey’s +end in a little square beyond the Pont Neuf +where the coach house was situated. As +they alighted, cries of “Sedan! Sedan +chair!” were heard. Brawling chairmen +“mixed it” with pummeling fists and kicking +legs to be in the front lines for the +passengers’ custom.</p> +<p>’Twas a terrifying scene from which they +were glad to escape to a side bench whence +they watched the homeward hurrying +throngs and looked vainly for Monsieur +Martin. As in the country, Henriette tried +to pass the time of day with divers and +sundry folk, but it was no use. They gave +her queer looks or hurried on, as if stone +deaf.</p> +<p>“They simply pay no attention to you +here!” she complained to Louise, “but +never mind! Cousin Martin will come +soon, and take us to his home.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></div> +<p>Presently the city lamplighter was lighting +the street lantern above them; he went +his way and the Place was deserted.</p> +<p>There <i>was</i> a man lurking in the shadows +of a portico nearby, though ’twould somewhat +strain credulity to imagine him the +elderly tradesman Martin. He was a +powerful and burly figure, black habited, +of impudent visage quite unlike a gentle +relative’s. In the deeper shadows back of +him crouched two fellows, one of whom +bore in his hand a black cloth.</p> +<p>“Oh, why does not Monsieur Martin +come?” said Henriette to herself softly, +with a little gesture of half-despair.</p> +<p>“I am your cousin Martin!” said the +man, advancing upon them with a smirk +that was like a leer.</p> +<p>Henriette involuntarily drew back, withdrawing +Louise a few steps with her. Relief +and fear of the strange “cousin” struggled +within her. The man laid a hand on +the elder girl’s arm and at the same time +signalled the ruffians. A sudden impulse +moved Henriette to wrench herself free.</p> +<p>In a twinkling the three were upon her. +While the burly leader tore away her grasp +of the blind Louise, the fellow with the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +cloth threw it over her face and shoulders, +stifling her screams.</p> +<p>Not a passer-by in sight!</p> +<p>Fiercely Henriette struggled, twice lifting +the cloth from her face, and fiercely +Louise sought to twine herself around the +body of her lovely guide and protector. +But the big man again had thrown the blind +girl off, and the fellows, having tied the +black cloth, lifted Henriette between them +and carried her into a waiting fiacre.</p> +<p>“We’ve got her safe now, La Fleur,” +said the kidnappers.</p> +<p>“Drive your hardest to Bel-Air, the Marquis’s +fete begins at nine o’clock!” said the +villain addressed, who was none other than +the famous nobleman’s pander....</p> +<p>What cared the Marquis and La Fleur +about the blind one’s misfortunes. As La +Fleur had said:</p> +<p>“Never fear––blindness is ever a good +stock in trade. She’ll find her career––in +the streets of Paris!”</p> +<p>Louise stopped, and listened for the retreating +footsteps. The noise of the kidnappers’ +melee was quite stilled. Instead, +the diminishing sound of hoofbeats and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +crunching wheels woke the echoes of the +silent street; mingled with it––perhaps not +even actually, but the memory of an earlier +outcry––the muffled cry, “Louise! Louise!”</p> +<p>Louise listened again, but no familiar +sound met her ear––only the rushing of the +water, or the footsteps of some pedestrian +in the distance.</p> +<p>“I hear nothing,” she said, in a terrified +whisper. Hoping against hope, and in a +voice trembling with fear, she spoke as it +were to the empty winds:</p> +<p>“Henriette! Speak to me, speak one +word. Answer me, Henriette!” No answer, +no reply!</p> +<p>“Louise!” sounded faintly on the far-off +wind, or perhaps her poor brain conjured +it. The blind girl knew now that her sister +was beyond reach, and in the power of +cruel men who knew no mercy.</p> +<p>“They have dragged her away to some +hiding,” sensed the poor blind brain, “or +perhaps that carriage is bearing her away +from me forever. Oh, what shall I do?” +she cried aloud, in tones that would have +thrilled a hearer’s heart with pity. “Alone––alone! +Abandoned!”</p> +<p>With the last word the full horror of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +her situation surged upon her, and she +burst into a torrent of tears. Alone in +Paris! Blind and alone, without relatives +or friends.</p> +<p>You who sit in a cozy home, surrounded +by safeguards and comforts, can have no +idea of the blind foundling’s utter dependence +or the terrible meaning conveyed by +the one word “abandoned.”</p> +<p>“What will become of me?” she cried, +between the sobs. “Alone in this great +city; helpless and blind––my God, what +<i>shall</i> I do? Where am I to go? I do not +know which way to turn!”</p> +<p>Self-preservation, and the piteous hope +that the house fronts might give her some +clue to her bearings, caused the girl to +stagger from the centre of the square to +the sides. Along one of them she picked +her way, moaning for help and having not +even a stick to guide her. Slowly, painfully +she groped around the Place until unwittingly +she approached the railing or wall +which served as a guard to the steep bank +that descended to the river.</p> +<p>Along this she felt her way until suddenly +her hands met the empty air. What, +now? Should she return as she had come? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +No, she thought; the flagging beneath her +feet was heavy and substantial: ’twas probably +the intersection of another street, and +a few steps would bring her to house fronts +again.</p> +<p>Louise walked down the flags and +stepped into nothingness––thirty feet sheer +precipice into the river Seine!</p> +<p>In the instant horror of falling to death +off the stone pier, she found herself saved +by being clasped in a man’s arms.</p> +<p>“Great heavens!” this individual exclaimed +as he bore her to the centre of the +square. “What were you going to do?”</p> +<p>“Nothing––nothing––what was it?” +cried Louise incoherently, realizing only +that she had been pulled back from death’s +door.</p> +<p>“Another moment,” said the man in horror-stricken +accents, “and you would have +been drowned in the Seine! I leaped up +the steps and just managed to catch you. +Lucky that five minutes ago I had to go +down to the river to fill my water can. +You––”</p> +<p>The tones of the voice, which struck +Louise as young-old in its timbre, were +soft and kind with a refined and even plaintive +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +quality albeit not cultured. Here was +a good soul and a friend, she sensed at once. +But could she suddenly have won her sight, +Louise would have been astonished at the +actual vision.</p> +<p>Pale narrow spirituelle features, lit by +beautiful eyes and surmounted by a wealth +of straight black hair; a form haggard, +weazened by deformity, yet evidencing +muscular toil; delicate hands and feet that +like the features bespoke the poesy of soul +within mis-shapen shell,––the hunchback +scissors-grinder Pierre Frochard presented +a remarkable aspect which, once seen, no +one could ever forget!</p> +<p>Wonder and awe were writ on the pale +face as he looked at the lovely angel he had +rescued. Pierre shuddered again over the +escape. Better that he should have suffered +myriad deaths than that a hair of +that lovely head were injured. As for himself––poor +object of the world’s scorn and +his family’s revilings––was he worthy e’en +to kiss the hem of her garment?</p> +<p>Pierre looked yet again. The angelic +little creature was blind! Wide-open yet +sightless orbs whereof the cataracts blackened +the view of all Life’s perils, as they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +had of the imminent river. A surge of self-abnegating, +celestial love, mingled with +divine pity, filled the hunchback’s soul.</p> +<p>Tenderly he inquired about her misfortune, +and she told him the sad tale of the +journey and Henriette’s kidnapping.... Their +talk was broken in upon by the entry +of the hag Mere Frochard and her elder +son.</p> +<p>Alas, poor Louise! In finding a friend +thou hast likewise found the bitter bread +of the stranger and the slavery of the Frochard +clan! The wretched hunchback is +himself in thrall. Little dreams he the woe +that shall attend ye both, the while Henriette +is the victim of far mightier pomps +and powers.</p> +<p>Though Henriette shall not know thy +fate for many a day, though she shall search +long and frantically and not meet the beloved +until within the shadow of the guillotine, +it may give the reader what comfort +it will that the blind sister still lives––a lost +mite in the vast ocean of Paris!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV_THE_FETE_OF_BELAIR' id='CHAPTER_IV_THE_FETE_OF_BELAIR'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>THE FETE OF BEL-AIR</h3> +</div> +<p>Henrietta had swooned in the vehicle +which was being rapidly driven into open +country.</p> +<p>Gradually color came back into wan +cheeks. The blue orbs and Cupid lips fluttered +and half opened; the dazed little brain +tried vainly to sense what had happened.</p> +<p>Quickly the man La Fleur took out a +small phial and poured some few drops of +a dark liquid on the girl’s tongue. Half +consciously swallowing it, she sank back +again––this time, into a deeper nirvana.</p> +<p>They were coming now to a large estate, +the grounds of which were brightly illuminated. +Outside the iron palings a crowd +of beggars shrieked and gesticulated. Within, +all was gayety. La Fleur and his fellows +dismounted with their burden. They laid +the inanimate form of the Norman girl on +a litter and covered it with a white canopy. +As this strange pallet awaits the Master’s +wishes in anteroom, let us take a peep at +the celebrated Sunken Gardens.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span></div> +<p>Bel-Air had been beautified in the lovely +exedra style for which Petit Trianon is +noted. Art blended so cunningly with Nature +one might almost mistake marble +Venus for live goddess or flesh-and-blood +naiads of the lake for carved caryatides. +The very musicians seemed children of Pan +as they tuned their lyres and fiddles in +woodland nook.</p> +<p>Before the splashing fountain supported +by little naked Loves in marble––flanked by +balustrades and bordered by screens of +myriad crystalline glass drops––a cool +white pavement invited the gay minuet. +Beyond, a huge banquet table groaned with +delicacies and wines the cost of which +would have gone far to rationing the thirty +thousand hungry of the nearby City. Indeed, +enough was wasted to have fed many. +With bizarre and often gross entertainment +Marquis de Praille amused his guests who +themselves presented a wanton and amorous +scene that seemed itself a part of the +elaborately staged revels.</p> +<p>What gallantry, what passion, what low +asides and snatched kisses! as the squirming +dancers intoxicated the spectators’ +sense or gauzily draped coryphees plunged +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +in the pool now converted into a fountain +of wine. The elegant gentlemen and the +audacious women guests––themselves miracles +of bold costuming and sixty-inch +snow-white coiffures––knew the play foretold +the coarser revels that all would indulge +in after midnight.</p> +<p>Around the banqueting tables a number +of ladies and gentlemen were seated, some +still toying with the savory viands and +drinking rare vintages of Champagne, +whilst others idly watched the dancers or +discussed the latest court news and high life +scandal.</p> +<p>“Well, what do you think of my retreat +from the whirl and bustle of Paris?” asked +Marquis de Praille of his vis-a-vis, who was +a dashing sort of beauty.</p> +<p>“My dear Marquis,” replied that lady, +“I am delighted. It is a satisfaction to find +a gentleman who maintains the customs of +his rank.”</p> +<p>“And yet there are fools who want to +change them,” exclaimed a young nobleman +from the opposite table.</p> +<p>“You are right––fools––fools,” answered +de Praille, as he motioned to the servants +for more wine.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-022.jpg' alt='' title='' width='601' height='391' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +I WON’T GO ANNOUNCED LOUISE FIRMLY. YOU’LL MEET<br /> +SOMEBODY, GET MARRIED AND I’LL BE LEFT ALL ALONE.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span></div> +<p>“By the way,” asked the lady who had +first spoken, “you have heard the news?”</p> +<p>As no one had heard anything particularly +new for the last two hours, she continued +by saying:</p> +<p>“They say that the new minister of police +is as hard as a stone, and cold as a fish. He +is going to put a stop to all our amusements, +and, Marquis, this may be the last +entertainment you will give at Bel-Air.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense!” exclaimed the host. “I’d +like to see the minister of police who would +dare to interfere with the pleasures of a +French nobleman. Who and what is he?”</p> +<p>“He is from Touraine; is called the Count +de Linieres, and is the uncle of the Chevalier +Maurice de Vaudrey.”</p> +<p>“Where is the Chevalier?” suddenly +asked one of the ladies, as she was thus +reminded of one whom report had described +as rather eccentric, and on whom +she wished to exercise her charms. “You +promised me I should see him, Marquis.”</p> +<p>“So I did, and I expect him, as well as +another guest. I warn you, ladies, that she +will be the rival to you all.”</p> +<p>“Who is the other guest?” was the question +which assailed him from all quarters.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></div> +<p>“A young lady,” answered the Marquis +as if enraptured at the thought. “Sweet +sixteen, beautiful as a rose, and innocent as +an angel.”</p> +<p>“Where did you find such a pearl?” +asked one of the ladies banteringly.</p> +<p>“In Normandy.”</p> +<p>This announcement was followed by a +titter from the feminine members of the +group.</p> +<p>“Yes, I know these Normandy beauties!” +scorned one of the ladies, betraying +in spite of herself a tinge of jealousy.</p> +<p>“Rustics! Quite unpolished and de +trop,” chimed in another fair one, cat-like +in her verbal claws.</p> +<p>“Laugh away, ladies,” said de Praille +gayly. “You shall see a real Norman +beauty, and then see how jealous you will +all become at sight of her.”</p> +<p>At this moment a noise was heard from +the outside, and in the midst of some confusion +a rather singular voice was heard +saying:</p> +<p>“I tell you I must go in, and I will. I +must speak to your master.”</p> +<p>On hearing this the Marquis went toward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +the entrance, and demanded of the servants +who this was who was so importunate.</p> +<p>“Picard,” answered the owner of the singular +voice. “Picard, valet to the Chevalier +de Vaudrey.”</p> +<p>The Marquis immediately gave orders +that he be admitted, and a sharp, wiry-looking +fellow, wearing the de Vaudrey livery, +stood before the gay party.</p> +<p>“Most excellent Marquis and most beautiful +ladies,” he said to the general mirth +as he curtsied low and executed a neat pas +seul, “my master the Chevalier is very late, +but he will surely appear.”</p> +<p>“Late?” protested one of the young +blades who knew the Prefect’s nephew. +“Why, he told me he expected to be here +early.”</p> +<p>“Alas, detained by business––” replied +Picard in a melancholy tone.</p> +<p>“Business! A young nobleman has no +business!”</p> +<p>“It is so, gentlemen. Some nights, I +grant you, he devotes to pleasure, as a +young aristocrat should; but his days––how +do you suppose he spends his days?”</p> +<p>“Sleeps, of course,” said the Marquis, in +a positive tone.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></div> +<p>“Gentlemen, allow me to tell you confidentially,” +said the valet mysteriously as +the gentlemen gathered around him, fully +expecting to hear of some treason. “He +works! actually works! He sits down and +reads and writes as though he were an +advocate.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V_BELAIRCONTINUED' id='CHAPTER_V_BELAIRCONTINUED'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>BEL-AIR––(CONTINUED)</h3> +</div> +<p>“Bah!” exclaimed one. “You don’t expect +us to believe that?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and more, too,” answered Picard, +who enjoyed immensely being able to impart +some information to his superiors. +“Why, how do you suppose he acts to the +common people who want to see him? His +creditors, for instance?”</p> +<p>“Why, if they are importunate, he beats +them, I suppose,” answered de Praille, who +often “settled” bills thus.</p> +<p>“Yes, he beats them,” sneered Picard; +“he pays them! Yes, gentlemen, he pays +his tradespeople.” And the valet surveyed +the group, enjoying the surprise he had +given them.</p> +<p>“Oh, the poor fellow is lost!” exclaimed +one of the party, who at the age of twenty +had spent a large fortune and was now +living on his wits.</p> +<p>“Completely,” affirmed Picard, “and all +owing to the company he keeps. He won’t +be guided by me––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></div> +<p>“The Chevalier Maurice de Vaudrey!”</p> +<p>Picard’s further revelations were cut +short by the entry of his master who dismissed +the valet and presented his apologies +to the company.</p> +<p>In any assemblage the young Chevalier +of twenty-two might have been remarked +for his Greek God features and the occasional +smile that made him look, from time +to time, a veritable bright Phoebus Apollo.</p> +<p>He was far handsomer, far more attractive +than the host, but a young-old cynic +about these goings-on. Nephew of the +police prefect of Paris, he had been specially +invited to forestall––by reason of his +presence––any Governmental swooping +down on Praille’s wild party. Evidently he +was not thinking of morals or of license, +but his thoughts were far other.</p> +<p>“The people cry out for bread,” said the +Chevalier, looking at the board and thinking +of the shrieking beggars.</p> +<p>Marquis de Praille raised his fashionable +lorgnette, contemplating a vast chateau-like +confection on the table, and sprung his +little joke.</p> +<p>“Why don’t they eat cake?” he replied +airily, with a cackling laugh.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></div> +<p>De Vaudrey smiled fleetingly, then half-serious, +half-smiling, raised a hand in polite +protest. Two fair ones carried him off +eagerly to retail to the distinguished visitor +a morsel of gossip.</p> +<p>“The Marquis has made another conquest!” +whispered one to him behind her +fan, to which the other added: “Yes, he +found a <i>marvelously beautiful</i> Norman +peasant journeying to Paris in a stage +coach, so he had La Fleur take her and fetch +her here––a mere rustic, to outvie us all!”</p> +<p>“Yes, ’twill be good sport,” replied the +cynic. “These country girls that his excellency +abducts are willing victims.”</p> +<p>They were interrupted by a procession of +servants bringing in the covered pallet.</p> +<p>The spread was thrown off, a restorative +administered to the recumbent figure––Henriette +sat up and gazed in blank stupefaction +at the crowding revelers.</p> +<p>She staggered to her feet, looking for a +friendly face somewhere.</p> +<p>Of a sudden, the mental image of her +lost sister shot her as with a violent agony.</p> +<p>“My sister Louise––where is she?” she +pleaded. “Quick! Please let me go to her––don’t +you understand? She is BLIND!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +Sobs almost choked the little voice. “She +cannot take a SINGLE STEP without +me!”</p> +<p>De Vaudrey looked up to see the tiny +creature running hither and yon, asking the +laughing gentlemen for help, repulsing +Praille’s embraces, fending off the other +satyr who would drown her sorrows in fizz. +If this were play-acting, it excelled the finest +efforts of Adrienne Lecouvreur! De +Praille had now grasped her firmly by the +waist and shoulders, his sensual breath was +on her cheek, a last cry escaped her:</p> +<p>“Among all these noblemen, is there not +ONE MAN OF HONOR?”</p> +<p>The despairing outcry pierced the Chevalier’s +shallow cynicism, touching the finer +feelings that had lain dormant.</p> +<p>He sprang to her side, dashed de Praille’s +arms from her exquisite form. Then, facing +his bewildered host, he said in calm +even tones to the girl:</p> +<p>“Come, Mademoiselle, we will leave this +place.”</p> +<p>Suiting the word to the action, he offered +his arm to Henriette and started to go. +With a fury restrained only by conventional +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +usages, de Praille was across their path +and barred the way with his wand.</p> +<p>“This is my house,” he said hoarsely, +“and I will not permit this insult!” As he +spoke, the chimes sounded midnight. “Do +you hear? After twelve o’clock, no one +ever leaves Bel-Air!”</p> +<p>For answer de Vaudrey dashed aside the +extended wand, escorted the kidnapped girl +to the foot of the staircase. De Praille was +upon them again. This time he drew his +sword. Fascinated, the courtiers and their +women companions watched the outcome.</p> +<p>Gently shielding Henriette behind him, +de Vaudrey drew. Stroke and counterstroke +and parry of rapiers and lightning-like +motion glinted in the air. Henriette +was the affrighted center of the fashionable +group that, according to the custom of that +time, awaited the issue of the duel without +intervening.</p> +<p>Glory be! her protector was parrying the +Marquis’ wild thrusts while he himself +bided an opening. It came with a suddenness +as dramatic as the duel itself. A lunge +of the villain had left his own side exposed. +De Vaudrey sidestepped and as he did so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +plunged his rapier between the ribs of the +owner of Bel-Air.</p> +<p>The mortally stricken de Praille sank +back against a marble bench. De Vaudrey +scarcely glanced at him. Taking Henriette +by the hand, he rushed with her up the +staircase and out to liberty.</p> +<p>Before the Grand Seigneur’s cronies +thought to avenge their master, they had +passed the astonished servants, passed the +minatory beggars at the gates, and hailing +a fiacre were on their way to Paris.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI_IN_THE_FROCHARDS_DEN' id='CHAPTER_VI_IN_THE_FROCHARDS_DEN'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>IN THE FROCHARDS’ DEN</h3> +</div> +<p>One hundred and fifty years of outlawry +had made the Frochard clan a wolfish +breed; battening on crime, thievery and +beggary. The head of the house had suffered +the extreme penalty meted out to +highwaymen. The precious young hopeful, +Jacques, was a chip of the old block––possibly +a shade more drunken and a shade +less enterprising.</p> +<p>But the real masterful figure was the +Widow Frochard, his mother, a hag whose +street appearance nurses used to frighten +naughty children. Hard masculine features, +disheveled locks and piercing black +eyes gave her a fearsome look enhanced by +a very vigorous moustache, a huge wart +near the mouth, the ear-hoops and tobacco +pipe that she sported, and the miscellaneous +mass of rags that constituted her costume.</p> +<p>In this menage of the begging Frochards, +the crippled scissors-grinder Pierre was the +only individual worth his salt, and he was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +heartily despised by his brother Jacques +and his mother.</p> +<p>The hag’s black eyes snapped as she saw +Louise whom the hunchback had saved +from the water.</p> +<p>“Pretty––blind––she’ll beg us lots of +money!” she said gleefully to Jacques. But +to the girl she pretended aid, and her leathern, +liquor-coated voice proclaimed:</p> +<p>“No friends, eh, Dearie? Then I’ll take +care of you!”</p> +<p>Only poor Pierre sympathized with +Louise’s awful grief in being thrown adrift +on Paris through the violent disappearance +of her beloved sister. He trembled to think +what knavery his wicked kinsfolk meant, +though he himself was their helpless slave; +the target of kicks, cuffs, and the robbery +of all his earnings.</p> +<p>La Frochard led the way to their dank +and noisome den, opening from a street +trap-door and giving at the other extremity +on a sort of water-rat exit underneath the +pier. She handed Louise down the steps +and taking her things remarked in a self-satisfied +tone: “Here are your lodgings, +Dearie!”</p> +<p>The old woman arrayed herself in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +Louise’s shawl, and grinned as she tried on +the girl’s widespread garden hat. She flung +the girl about roughly, even choking her. +To heighten the rosy picture of great +wealth to accrue, she took a deep draught +of cognac from her loved black bottle. Poor +Louise sank down to deep slumber, from +which neither the noisy potations of La +Frochard and Jacques, nor their cursing +and abuse of the hunchback Pierre, sufficed +to awaken her.</p> +<p>Next morning the hag pulled the blind +girl out of the rough bed and dressed her +in beggar’s garments.</p> +<p>“You must go out now on the street with +us and sing!” she said.</p> +<p>“... But you promised to help me find +Henriette....” said the poor girl, piteously.</p> +<p>“We’ll find her for you one of these days, +but in the meantime you must earn your +keep. No––I don’t mean, actually beg! +You do the singing, and I’ll do the begging.”</p> +<p>“Never!” cried Louise. “You may kill +me if you will, but I’ll not be a street beggar. +Why, the very first person we meet, +I’ll ask to save me and inform the police!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span></div> +<p>“I’ll fix you, my fine lady!” screamed +La Frochard, throwing her from her. +“Come, Jacques,” she said to her ruffian +son, “we’ll trying a means of making her +mind!” Together they seized and started +dragging her to the steps of a sub-cellar. +Tremblingly Pierre urged them to desist, +but they cast him aside.</p> +<p>Louise was thrust into the dungeon and +the trap closed. Black bread and a cup of +water was to be her prison fare. Still +moaning “Henriette! Henriette!” she +groped along the slimy walls and tried the footing +of the mingled mud and straw.</p> +<p>Horrors! What were the creeping +things she sensed, though sightless? Two +raced under her petticoat, one nibbled at +her shoe. She jumped high in air and +screamed outright.</p> +<p>Rats! They were upon her again, almost +swarming. She fled to a corner, leaped on +a pile of rags, literally fought them off with +both hands! Her screams echoed through +the upper den, to the anguish of Pierre and +the mocking laughter of La Frochard and +Jacques....</p> +<p>Pitiably broken, Louise was pulled out +of the vile sink a few hours later, pledging +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +wildly to obey the least of the hag’s commands.</p> +<p>La Frochard knew that her conquest was +complete.</p> +<p>Henceforth the girl would be but as a +clay figure in her hands––a decoy to lure +the golden charity of the rich and sympathetic.</p> +<p>As for Jacques, that ruffian was now +eyeing the blind lass closely, and muttering:</p> +<p>“Not bad-looking––I’ll see to it no other +man gets her!”</p> +<p>He slapped his knife villainously.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII_TANGLED_SKEINS' id='CHAPTER_VII_TANGLED_SKEINS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>TANGLED SKEINS</h3> +</div> +<p>Henriette Girard had not only been saved +from dishonor by Chevalier de Vaudrey, +but she had won a devoted friend. Through +his connections, the Chevalier knew much +that was passing in the half-world. The +mystery of the happenings at the coach +house was cleared by him.</p> +<p>“Your cousin M. Martin,” he said, “was +found drugged in a wineshop to which presumably +the man La Fleur had enticed him. +It was easy then for La Fleur to pose as +Martin and kidnap you.</p> +<p>“I grieve to say it, abductions of the poor +and friendless are common with the roues +of fashion. Their families are of such influence +that the police rarely interfere.</p> +<p>“But there will be an end of this––if I +mistake not,” said the Chevalier, “the people +mean to put an end to these seignorial +‘privileges’!”</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-038.jpg' alt='' title='' width='399' height='598' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +THE MARQUIS DE PRAILLE IS ENRAPTURED BY THE LITTLE VISION<br /> +FROM THE STAGE COACH (HENRIETTE PLAYED BY LILLIAN GISH.)<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></div> +<p>It was in one of his frequent talks at the +simple lodgings to which he had conducted +her the night of Bel-Air. Swiftly they had +retraced the steps of the stricken Louise +even to the pier edge over the darkling +Seine. Horrified and trembling, Henriette +feared the worst.</p> +<p>“It is not likely she was drowned,” said +the Chevalier gravely. “Someone must +have been about, to save her. Do not be +discouraged, Mademoiselle, if our search +for Louise takes several days. We are +without a clew––groping, like her, in the +dark. But we shall find her, never fear!”</p> +<p>The confident words gave tiny comfort +to the elder girl as he bade his adieux in +the parlor of the respectable lodging house +he had found for her––the same caravansary +(had they but known it) that housed +the then obscure Maximilien Robespierre.</p> +<p>She strove to thank him for his kindness +when he interrupted her: “Don’t thank +<i>me</i>, Mademoiselle, I owe <i>you</i> a debt of +gratitude, for you have restored to me +ideals sweet as childhood!”</p> +<p>Unconsciously the young people standing +there, drew closer to one another until +their lips met. Each was almost too astonished +for words. Fine breeding came to +de Vaudrey’s aid. He apologized––and +promised not to let it happen again!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></div> +<p>Sincerity spoke in the young man’s earnest +eyes and his respectful kiss of her small +hand at parting.</p> +<p>Was indeed this youthful cynic transformed +by the flower-like influence of the +girl?</p> +<p>He went away all eagerness to pursue the +lost sister’s quest, promising that no stone––police +or other––should be left unturned +in the search.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>And here––where the orphans’ eventful +epoch becomes entwined with the lives of +the great and with the darkening storm and +impending passion of the Revolution––it is +well to acquaint our readers further with +the de Vaudreys.</p> +<p>Count de Linieres of Touraine had been +married––many years before the date of +this story––to Mlle. de Vaudrey, the heiress +of a great fortune. A skeleton (’twas +rumored) rattled in the Vaudrey closet. +Certainly there was heritage of hates as +well as gold.</p> +<p>A tenant Jean Setain, who came to the +Paris mansion to pay his rent, made a +scene. He told of the cruelties long ago +inflicted on his father by the Countess’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +father––for some trifling trespass on seigniorage, +<i>boiling lead in the unfortunate’s +veins</i>––and the angry Count, after a stern +rebuke, had him ejected. Jacques-Forget-Not +(such was his queer nickname) departed, +vowing vengeance.</p> +<p>Having ample wealth, the Count desired +preferment. The post of Minister of Police +was a steppingstone. He accepted it whilst +visions of a grand alliance for his nephew, +Chevalier de Vaudrey, pointed to dukedom +or even princely rank as the family’s goal. +It thus vexed Linieres exceedingly that the +Chevalier should have been mixed up in a +duel about an unknown girl. He believed +it a clever stroke to hire Picard, the Chevalier’s +own valet, to spy upon him.</p> +<p>“How is your master’s conduct?” asked +the Count.</p> +<p>“Scandalous, perfectly scandalous!” replied +Picard in a tone of deep dejection. +“Once indeed he had a few gentleman associates +and went to gay parties, but now he +is quite moral, and just as studious as a +lawyer’s clerk. Really I must leave the +Chevalier,” continued Picard, “his principles +are such as I cannot accept!”</p> +<p>“Then I will re-engage you––on one condition. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +That is, that you remain a while +with my nephew and tell me everything he +does. I have heard, on the contrary, +that––”</p> +<p>Picard almost danced a pas seul. “Oh, +that is the way the wind lies! The sly +dog!––And I thought of leaving him. She +must be a saucy and jaunty little minx, +whoever she is! Oh, yes, I will find out +everything that you require.”</p> +<p>With eye to keyhole the valet reporter +saw the frequent innocent parleys of Maurice +and Henriette, which he construed as +an intrigue. He was quite ecstatic with +happiness now. The police Prefect, finding +his suspicions privately confirmed, bluntly +refused police aid to the Chevalier’s hunt +for Louise. He spoke pointedly and (as he +hoped) with effect:</p> +<p>“Monsieur, you must give up your association +with these common people. I have +other plans for you that will shortly mature.”</p> +<p>The angry Count could not be crossed. +De Vaudrey’s sole hope lay in his Aunt.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Ceaselessly Henriette spent her days in +trying to trace Louise. Her quest became +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +the neighborhood gossip. Strangers interested +themselves and offered clues to herself +and the Chevalier––clues that proved +quite futile.</p> +<p>To her doorstep a great pock-marked +man, bushy-browed and of knob-like visage, +was walking one day with her finicky +dandified neighbor M. Robespierre. As he +passed, the titan turned and inquired +kindly:</p> +<p>“Are you the little girl who lost her +sister?”</p> +<p>He spoke with a gentle sympathy that +touched her and even his cursing reference +to the abductions: “Damned aristocrats! +The people are going to stop that sort of +thing!” did not phase her, for she looked +up into his face and trustfully replied:</p> +<p>“You are such a big man I should think +you could do almost anything!”</p> +<p>Robespierre was pawing at the pock-marked +one’s coat, and finally succeeded in +yanking him around. The broad back of +the giant being turned to her, our little +sparrow of a Henriette noiselessly departed––to +the evident disappointment of the big +man who looked yet again and found her +place empty!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></div> +<p>The big man had run across Chevalier +de Vaudrey also, and the two had struck up +a friendship. Moved by the pitiful sight of +a starveling crowd gazing into a bakery, +Maurice had rushed in and bought an armful +of loaves which he distributed, adding +gold louis for the wretched mothers of +families. The pock-marked one had been +a spectator. He stopped the Chevalier, +shook his hand warmly, and remarked: “If +more of the aristocrats were like <i>you</i>, +things would be different!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>From these scenes of low life, let the +reader pass for a few moments to the Salon +de la Paix at Versailles, where King Louis +XVI received petitioners.</p> +<p>We in America who have no awe of +royalty perceive that the luckless King was +simply a square peg in a round hole. He +loved locksmithy, hunting, and home; +would have been a successful inventor, +pioneer, or bourgeois parent. In the chair +of State, on this day of petitions, his head +and hand busied themselves with a wonderful +new doorlock he had devised.</p> +<p>“Sire,” said the suppliant de Linieres, “in +the matter of the grand alliance betwixt my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +nephew Chevalier de Vaudrey and your +ward Princesse de Acquitaine––”</p> +<p>The monarch nodded absentmindedly.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, yes! Of course. As you say––” +With a courtly wave of the hand, the monarch +indicated the waiting heiress on his +right. She curtsied low in acceptance of +the royal command.</p> +<p>“Let the young man marry her, and +accept a place in my royal entourage––But +now that this little matter is settled,” +continued the King with a return to his former +animation, “I invite you to examine +my latest invention, an unpickable lock, +which I have here!”</p> +<p>The grave comedy of eulogy on the royal +locksmithing was played by the delighted +suppliant according to all the rules.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII_THE_HONOR_OF_THE_FAMILY' id='CHAPTER_VIII_THE_HONOR_OF_THE_FAMILY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>THE HONOR OF THE FAMILY</h3> +</div> +<p>Daily the young Chevalier developed a +warmer interest in the sweet and pure +young girl at the faubourg lodgings. Always +his visits brought a little delicious +heart-flutter to Henriette, though not unmixed +with mourning o’er lost sister. And +as a result of these idyllic meetings, ambitious +plans appeared to him abhorrent.</p> +<p>About this time the Countess de Linieres, +calling one day at her husband’s +ministerial offices, learned of his purposes.</p> +<p>“I was about to come to you,” said the +Count, “but you have anticipated me. I +desire to speak with you on the subject of +your nephew, the Chevalier de Vaudrey, +and to ask you to prepare him for the marriage +which the King––”</p> +<p>“Wishes to impose on him,” interrupted +the Countess bitterly.</p> +<p>“Impose on him?” repeated de Linieres. +“It is a magnificent alliance, which will +complete the measure of the distinguished +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +honors with which His Majesty deigns to +favor us.”</p> +<p>“Have you spoken to the Chevalier yet?”</p> +<p>“No, but I am expecting him every moment, +and I wished to talk with him in your +presence.”</p> +<p>As if this conversation had some influence +over him, de Vaudrey entered at this +moment.</p> +<p>“Ah, Chevalier!” exclaimed the Count. +“I am glad to see you. The Countess and +myself have an important communication +to make to you.”</p> +<p>De Vaudrey looked at his uncle in surprise. +The latter was positively beaming. +Big with the prospective grandeur of his +house, he hesitated momentarily over the +manner of delivering it.</p> +<p>“My dear Maurice,” said the Count finally, +“the King did me the honor to receive +me yesterday, and he spoke of you.”</p> +<p>“Of me?” asked de Vaudrey in surprise.</p> +<p>“He takes a great interest in you,” continued +de Linieres, now speaking quickly. +“He wishes you to accept a position at +court, and desires at the same time that you +should marry.”</p> +<p>“Marry?” asked de Vaudrey, as though +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +he could not believe his uncle really meant +what he said.</p> +<p>The Countess waited as anxiously for de +Vaudrey’s answer as did her husband, +though for a different reason. She loved +the young man before her, and his happiness +and well-being were very dear to her.</p> +<p>“My dear nephew,” she said kindly, “I +see that this news surprises you. Yet there +is no fear that the King’s choice will do +violence to your feelings. The lady whom +His Majesty has chosen, has youth, beauty +and fortune.”</p> +<p>“In proof of which I have only to tell you +that his choice is Princesse––” the Count +attempted to say, but was interrupted by +the Chevalier.</p> +<p>“Do not name her,” he said excitedly.</p> +<p>“Why not?” asked his uncle in astonishment.</p> +<p>“Because I refuse to marry!”</p> +<p>The effect of these momentous words +was quite diverse upon the uncle and the +aunt of the young man.</p> +<p>For the moment the haughty nobleman +could not understand why his nephew-by-marriage +should reject the flattering proposal, +such an easy and agreeable road to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +place and fortune. Soon rising anger got +the better of his surprise, and minding +Picard’s reports on the Chevalier’s conduct, +his thought was:</p> +<p>“Ah, that’s the secret––he prefers his libertine +courses to assured fortune!”</p> +<p>But the Aunt, with a woman’s ready wit, +understood there could be but one reason +to such a decided refusal, and knew that he +must be already in love.</p> +<p>Countess de Linieres loved the Chevalier +as if he were her own son. Quickly she shot +the youth a warning look to prevent if possible +a verbal passage of arms. But it was +already too late.</p> +<p>“You dare to disobey the King––” thundered +Count de Linieres, in righteous +wrath, backed (as the others well knew) by +the triple authority of household, police and +royal cachet.</p> +<p>“My sword is my King’s,” flashed the +handsome youth resolutely, “but my will +must remain my own!</p> +<p>“I will go to His Majesty,” he continued +passionately. “I will thank him for his +goodness, place my services at his disposal. +My devotion, my life are his, but my affections +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +are my own, and I wish to remain––free!”</p> +<p>“Free!” exclaimed the Count scornfully. +“Free to lead a life of dissipation which you +may not always be able to hide from the +world.”</p> +<p>These words, which implied so much, +stung the noble-hearted de Vaudrey more +than any words of anger or reproach could +have done.</p> +<p>“There is nothing in my life to hide,” he +said proudly but impatiently, “nothing for +which I have reason to blush.”</p> +<p>“Are you sure of that, Chevalier?” asked +the Count, in a tone that plainly said the +speaker knew differently. Conscious of his +own uprightness, this doubt cast upon his +word was more than the Chevalier could +bear, and he advanced toward his uncle with +a menacing air.</p> +<p>“Monsieur!” he began, boldly, “I cannot––”</p> +<p>“Maurice! my husband!” exclaimed the +Countess, as she stepped between the two +men to prevent those words being spoken +which would have led to an encounter. +“Defer the conversation for the present. +Permit me to speak to Maurice.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></div> +<p>“Very well,” said de Linieres sternly. +Then turning to the Chevalier he said, in a +voice which he had never before used to his +nephew: “We will return to this another +time. You will remember that as head of +the family its honor is confided to my care, +and I will not suffer any one to sully it with +a stain.”</p> +<p>De Vaudrey had nearly lost all control of +his temper. In a moment the outbreak +which the Countess was so anxious to avoid +would have broken forth, had not the Count +without giving his nephew time to speak +said quickly:</p> +<p>“I leave you with the Countess. I hope +that your respect and affection for her will +cause you to lend more weight to her counsels +than you are disposed to give to mine.”</p> +<p>As if fearing that he might have tried the +young man’s temper too far, or that he did +not wish to prolong a useless scene, the +Count left the room. De Vaudrey was +alone with his Aunt.</p> +<p>The Countess went up to the noble-looking +young man, and taking his hand in hers, +asked in a sweet, winning voice:</p> +<p>“Who is this woman you love? What +obstacle prevents the avowal of your passion? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +If it is only a matter of fortune, take +mine; it is all at your disposal, and I will +give it to you cheerfully.”</p> +<p>“Ah, where shall I find a heart like +yours?” exclaimed the Chevalier in a voice +trembling with emotion. “You have divined +my secret. I adore a young girl as +charming as she is pure. Yet never have I +dared to whisper my passion!”</p> +<p>“Her name––her family?” asked the +Countess eagerly.</p> +<p>“She was born of the people,” said de +Vaudrey proudly, yet tenderly. “She is an +orphan and lives by the labor of her hands.”</p> +<p>The Countess, who had never for a moment +imagined such an answer to her question, +was surprised, and she showed plainly +that grief was mingled with her surprise.</p> +<p>“And you would make such a woman +your wife?” she asked reproachfully.</p> +<p>“Do not judge her until you have seen +her,” entreated the Chevalier. “Consent to +see her, and then advise me.”</p> +<p>The young man took the Countess’s +hands in his, and looked imploringly into +her face.</p> +<p>But his Aunt turned away from him with +a gesture of sorrow.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></div> +<p>“In such a marriage,” she said sadly, +“there can be no happiness for you, and for +her, only misery. Alas! I know too well the +result of those unequal unions. You must +renounce her. You owe obedience to your +family and your King.” She burst into a +flood of tears.</p> +<p>Diffidently the young man sought to comfort +the Countess whose emotion seemed to +have its spring in some hidden sorrow. He +promised at last for her sake to consider +again the horribly odious proposal of a +State marriage, and drying her tears as well +as he could, went his way, a victim of torn +desires and intensest anguish....</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX_FRIENDS_OF_THE_PEOPLE' id='CHAPTER_IX_FRIENDS_OF_THE_PEOPLE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>FRIENDS OF THE PEOPLE</h3> +</div> +<p>The giant stranger who had talked to +Henriette and made friends with de Vaudrey +was Jacques Danton. He and his colleague, +Maximilien Robespierre, were destined +to be the outstanding figures of the +French Revolution. It is worth while to +stop here for a little and consider these two +men in their historical aspects and for the +profound influence which they exerted on +the lives of our characters.</p> +<p>As the storm clouds blacken the sky and +the sullen sea (not yet lashed to fury) is +ridged in deep, advancing breakers, the +mariner’s eye discerns these stormy petrels +flying about or momentarily perched on the +masts of the Ship of State.</p> +<p>Mark them well––Danton and Robespierre: +today, merely “esurient advocates,” +petty men of law come up from the provinces +to win their fortunes in Paris; tomorrow, +leaders of faction; some months +or years later, the rulers of France!</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-054.jpg' alt='' title='' width='601' height='397' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +PIERRE BECOMES THE DEVOTED WORSHIPPER OF<br /> +LOUISE WHOM HE HAS SAVED FROM THE RIVER<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></div> +<p>Danton––“the huge, brawny figure, +through whose black brows and rude flattened +face there looks a waste energy as of +Hercules not yet furibund.”</p> +<p>Robespierre––aptly described as the +meanest man of the Tiers Estat: “that +anxious, slight, ineffectual-looking man, +under thirty, in spectacles; his eyes, troubled, +careful; with upturned face, snuffing +dimly the uncertain future-time; complexion +of a multiplex atrabiliar color, the final +shade of which may be the pale sea-green!”</p> +<p>Such were they, afterwards to be known +respectively as “the pock-marked Thunderer” +and the “sea-green Incorruptible” +of the Revolution. The slight, fox-like man +had got himself elected to the States-General +which in May, 1789, convened at Versailles +to take up the troubled state of the +country, whilst the lion-like and fiery Danton +was the president of the Cordeliers electoral +district of Paris––the head of a popular +faubourg faction, not yet of power in +the State.</p> +<p>The new helmsmen of the State, headed +by Mirabeau, steered with considerable success +among waters as yet but partly roiled. +At Versailles an outward and visible Liberalism +triumphed. The Third Estate or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +Commons, consolidating its authority as a +permanent assembly, took measures to end +the national bankruptcy and tried to cope +with the awful menace of starvation. It +was a bourgeois body, thinly sprinkled with +members of the nobility and clergy; its aim, +to abolish the worst seigniorial abuses, restore +prosperity, and support the throne by +a system of constitutional guarantees.</p> +<p>But when the Storm broke, it was not at +Versailles where these lawgiving Six Hundred +debated the state of the Nation, but at +Paris that the group known as “Friends of +the People” lashed the popular discontents +to unmeasured and ungovernable fury.</p> +<p>It begins in the Palais Royal where “there +has been erected, apparently by subscription, +a kind of Wooden Tent, most convenient––where +select Patriotism can now redact +resolutions, deliver harangues, with +comfort, let the weather be as it will. Lively +is that Satan-at-Home! On his table, on +his chair, in every cafe, stands a patriotic +orator; a crowd round him within; a crowd +listening from without, open-mouthed, +through open door and window; with +‘thunders of applause for every sentiment +of more than common hardiness.’”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span></div> +<p>Strange that in a Royalist garden should +sprout the seeds of a great Revolution! +Stranger the crowds that gathered there, +and the leaders both popular and Royalist––among +the former, our fiery friend Danton, +our cautious, snuffling Robespierre, +and the boy of genius Camille Desmoulins, +Danton’s “slight-built comrade and craft-brother, +he with the long curling locks, with +the face of dingy blackguardism, wondrously +irradiated with genius!”</p> +<p>General Lafayette and Minister from +America Thomas Jefferson came there too +now and again, to watch the crowds and +hear the speeches. Symbols of America’s +newly won freedom, they were objects of +almost superstitious veneration to the agitators +for an enfranchised France. Danton, +Desmoulins and the rest crowded +around them, eager to shake their hands +and listen to their comments. In particular, +Lafayette’s sword––the gift of the +American Congress a decade before, excited +their admiration.</p> +<p>“From America’s Congress!” repeated +Danton fervently as he eyed the inscription +on the scabbard. “Why, that’s the kind of +Government we want over here!” Tears +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +came into the Frenchman’s eyes, to think +of the Liberty that Lafayette had helped +to win.</p> +<p>The Palais Royal gardens were the property +of the King’s cousin, Louis Phillipe. +Disgusted with not being in the councils of +the monarch and leaning to democracy, he +permitted the place to be used for public +promenades, lovers’ meetings––and popular +harangues. Friends of the People, Friends +of Phillipe, and Friends of the King freely +rubbed elbows. The popular tide set so +strongly that none dared openly oppose the +demagogic orators. A bread famine had +descended upon Paris. The scarcity of +wheat and flour was an ever-present theme; +the oppression of autocracy and seigniorage, +another. The cry for direct action always +woke echo in the popular breast, sick +over the delays of the Versailles lawgivers, +and nourishing the hope of seizing pelf and +power, rescuing their kinsfolk from the +prisons, and beating down the Kingship +and aristocracy to relinquish privileges and +abate the hardships of the Common Man!</p> +<p>Plain, embittered envy stalked abroad, +too––envy of the aristocrats’ grand homes +and unparalleled luxury, their fine equipages +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +and clothing, costly foods and wines, +their trains of lackeys and menials, the +beauty and joie-de-vivre of their sons and +daughters! The mechanic, the storekeeper, +the unskilled laborer, the ranks of unemployed, +and the submerged tenth obliged to +live by their wits or starve, were as fuel to +the spark of the orators’ lightning.</p> +<p>’Twas unlike a well-ordered land wherein +each one receives the well-merited reward +of toil. Justice was not in the body politic. +Tyranny, extravagance and bankruptcy on +the part of the ruling class had wiped out +the margin of plenty. Black ruin seemed to +impend for all. It was a case of starve––or +unite against the rulers and oppressors of +society. Danton, the thunderer of mighty +speech, dominated these gatherings, aided +and abetted by the eagle-like Desmoulins +and the crafty Robespierre.</p> +<p>“With the People’s government,” his +swelling periods resounded, “there shall be +no common man, no aristocrat––no rich nor +poor––but all brothers––brothers––brothers!” +Imagine if you can the fire-drama of +his recital of generations of cruelties and +wrongs––his picture of their miserable lot +and of the envied aristocrats’ pleasures––and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +then consider the pitch of frenzied republicanism +to which this wonderful fraternal +climax uplifted them! With crash +of thunder and wrack of the elements the +Storm must break, directly the popular feeling +found immediate object of its ire.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_X_THE_ATTACK_ON_DANTON' id='CHAPTER_X_THE_ATTACK_ON_DANTON'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>THE ATTACK ON DANTON</h3> +</div> +<p>But the royalists were not idle. Their +spies attended the meetings. Their swordsmen +provoked street encounters with popular +leaders.</p> +<p>They had always coped with popular ferments +by picking off the individual leaders, +and they did not doubt their ability to do +the same thing now. As Danton spoke, an +influential Royalist, pretending to handclap +his sentiments, privately signaled to a number +of these “spadassins” or killers.</p> +<p>On his way home from the meeting Danton +was attacked in the lonely street. He +backed up to a house porch, quickly drew +his own sword, and with herculean strength +managed to cut down five or six spadassins +of the advance party.</p> +<p>Then he fled to the house where Henriette +and also Robespierre lodged, rushed +in and up the stairs. The following company +were almost upon him. Their shouts +and cries could be heard below.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></div> +<p>Danton plumped into the first door at the +left of the stair-head. He was there when +Henriette, who had been momentarily +away, returned to her room.</p> +<p>“The spies––spadassins––they would take +my life––” He was wounded. It was with +a difficult hoarseness that he spoke.</p> +<p>The little homekeeper put a warning finger +to mouth. Running past him to the +door, she slipped out and closed it. She +withdrew to the back of the hall, and came +forward nonchalantly as the assassins +reached the hallway.</p> +<p>Rapier at her throat, the leader put the +silent but terrible question. Henriette’s +heart jumped. She managed not to show +her terror.</p> +<p>“I saw a man going up those stairs three +steps at a time!” she lied superbly, pointing +to the floor above.</p> +<p>The company ran up the third-floor stairs +on the double jump. As they vanished, she +was inside her rooms again and with the +quarry.</p> +<p>Minutes passed. The spadassins searched +the top garrets. They sought the roof, saw +escape was impossible that way. Then they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +clattered down the stairs. The leader hesitated +at Henriette’s door.</p> +<p>“Faugh!” he said. “The girl is just a +simpleton, she couldn’t have tricked us!”</p> +<p>At his command the men marched down––to +encounter unexpectedly a company of +national gendarmes that had been hurriedly +summoned to the scene of the disturbance.</p> +<p>In the porch melee Danton’s side had +been painfully slashed. Despite the pain, +he recognized his little preserver and +thanked her. Still holding his hand to his +side and half-reeling, he moved to go. Now +that all seemed quiet, he proposed to rid her +of the compromising presence of a man in +her room.</p> +<p>Henriette seized him with her little arms.</p> +<p>“No, no, you can’t go!” she said with a +little smile of divine pity. “Better a little +gossip about me than that you should lose +your life.” Henriette locked the door!</p> +<p>She strove to carry the disabled giant to +the nearest chair. Leaning heavily on her, +he walked with an effort and plumped down +on it. One of his arms was around her. She +tried to free it, but it clung. With hands +and knees she crawled out backward from +the unconscious embrace.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></div> +<p>It was the work of but a few minutes to +wash and bind his wound. Next she spread +a pallet on the floor, assisted him to it, +wrapped him warmly, and with a kind +“Good night!” left him to go to her little +boudoir....</p> +<p>That same night the spadassins were met +and disarmed by the gendarmes who +(largely owing to Danton’s eloquence) espoused +the people’s side. And that is why +Monsieur Robespierre, his confrere, was +abroad very early, without fear of assassins, +and nosing for news.</p> +<p>“I hear Danton was in a little trouble last +night!” gossiped the slick citizen with his +landlady. “The fight was in this very +house, was it not?”</p> +<p>The landlady, it seemed, was ignorant of +Danton’s refuge. But Robespierre suspected. +He decided to investigate, being a +stickler for propriety. Mounting the stairs +stealthily, he knocked at Henriette’s door.</p> +<p>The girl and the man were at their leave-taking. +Few words were spoken. The +giant clasped both her little hands in his +great paws.</p> +<p>“What you have done for me I shall never +forget!” he was saying.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></div> +<p>“Oh, if I had a great kind brother like +this!” was her sudden thought.</p> +<p>“Whisht!” she whispered vocally as the +knock was heard. Again the little gesture +of warning finger to mouth.</p> +<p>She stole to the keyhole and thought she +recognized the habiliments of her neighbor +the dandy. Motioning Danton back out of +sight she opened the door on the crack, +closed it as she slipped through, and encountered +the bowing and smirking Robespierre.</p> +<p>“A man escaped from the spadassins here +last night-did he find refuge with you?”</p> +<p>“You are mistaken, Monsieur. I am quite +alone.”</p> +<p>“May I just see? Very intimate friend +of mine, I am sure.”</p> +<p>“No, you <i>may not</i>!” Henriette quickly +reentered, and slammed and locked the door +on the future Dictator of France. ’Twas +only a little door slam, but it re-echoed later, +even at the Gates of Death! Rubbing his +long nose Robespierre took snuff.</p> +<p>“Sh-h, he is still there!” whispered the +girl to Danton, with another look through +keyhole. Presently steps were heard going +downstairs.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></div> +<p>“I think he is gone!” she said, verifying +her statement by again opening the door +and finding the coast clear.</p> +<p>Danton, with a final good-by, went his +way.</p> +<p>The sneak, however, had retraced his +downstairs steps with cat-like tread. In an +alcove of the back hall he had found a hiding +post.</p> +<p>As Danton’s broad back descended down +the steps, a vulpine head peered out of the +alcove, and Robespierre’s cunning, self-satisfied +look showed that he recognized +Henriette’s visitant.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI_LOUISE_BEFORE_NOTRE_DAME' id='CHAPTER_XI_LOUISE_BEFORE_NOTRE_DAME'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>LOUISE BEFORE NOTRE DAME</h3> +</div> +<p>In the days following her immurement in +the dreadful sub-cellar, Louise became the +Frochards’ breadwinner. Her pathetic +blindness, lovely face and form, and sweet +young voice attracted sympathy from each +passer-by. The offerings all went into the +capacious pocket of La Frochard, whence +indeed most of them were stolen or cajoled +by her worthless scamp of a Jacques.</p> +<p>The old hag feared only lest she lose her +precious acquisition of the blind girl. She +guarded her ceaselessly, and warded off dangerous +questioners.</p> +<p>It was not easy, however, to avoid the +good Doctor from La Force, who gave them +a donative and looked at the girl with deep +professional interest. Despite the beggar’s +tactics, he insisted on examining the pupils, +then called La Frochard aside.</p> +<p>“Don’t encourage her too much,” said the +old gentlemen kindly, “but bring her to me. +I am quite sure that she can be cured.”</p> +<p>Rejoining Louise and smiling her wheedling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +beggar’s smile at the departing Doctor, +the features of Widow Frochard suddenly +contorted in black rage––she shook her fist +at the physician directly his back was +turned. Monstrous––to restore sight, and +thus make the girl worthless as object of +charity! La Frochard felt she had good +reason for her rage.</p> +<p>“Can the Doctor do anything?” ventured +Louise to the hag, timidly.</p> +<p>“No, he said your case is hopeless.”</p> +<p>They were standing now near the snowy +steps of Notre Dame, awaiting worshippers +whose pity would be stirred by the girl’s +misfortune. Half-drunken Jacques had +reeled out of a cabaret to exact his share of +the plunder. Mother and first-born cursed +heartily the scissors-grinder Pierre who +came limping up, saying he could get no +jobs on account of the bitter cold, wintry +day. Kicking the cripple and twisting +Louise’s arm were the favorite pastimes of +Jacques and the Widow.</p> +<p>On this occasion the hag snatched the +covering from the wretched girl’s shoulders +and put it around her own. “You’ll shiver +better without that shawl!” she said, brutally +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +setting the scene for the worshippers’ +charity.</p> +<p>“Jacques and I,” she continued, “are going +to get a little drink to warm our frozen +bodies.</p> +<p>“Guard her there, you good-for-nothing +Pierre, or I’ll break every bone of your +body!” They departed to spend the Doctor’s +gold-piece.</p> +<p>Pierre tried vainly to comfort the girl. +He could but find her a seat in a pile of +snow! He warmed her hands with his own, +strove to speak cheering words. But teeth +were chattering, and her frail form was +quivering as with the ague.</p> +<p>A great wave of pity and love overwhelmed +the cripple. He peeled off his coat, +beneath which were but the thinnest rags. +He wrapped it around her, saying:</p> +<p>“There, there! this will help you keep +warm. I really do not need it––I––I-am-not-c-c-cold!”</p> +<p>His own teeth were chattering now, and +his pinched features were purple.</p> +<p>The blind girl touched his icy arm, half +exposed by his ragged shirt, as she rose to +sing for the charity of those who attended +mass.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></div> +<p>“No, no, Pierre,” she cried, removing the +coat from her shoulders, “I will not let you +freeze. Oh, how selfish I am to permit you +to suffer, who have been so kind to me!”</p> +<p>Rejecting his entreaties, she made him +put it on again, hiding her own suffering.</p> +<p>“Hearken! there sounds the organ for +the recessional!” she continued. “Soon the +people will be coming out. I will sing the +same songs that my sister Henriette and I +used to sing. Perhaps some one will recognize +the melody, and lead me back to her!”</p> +<p>A beautifully majestic, ermined figure +stepped graciously out of the church, as La +Frochard rejoined Louise and began whining: +“Charity! In the name of God, Charity!” +whilst the girl’s voice lifted up in an +old plaintive melody.</p> +<p>The lady was the Countess de Linieres, +returning from her devotions.</p> +<p>The song evoked memories of a bitter +past and of a long lost daughter snatched +from her in infancy. Bending over poor +Louise, she asked: “My child, can you not +see me?”</p> +<p>“No, Madame, I am blind,” was the low, +sad answer.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_5' id='linki_5'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-070.jpg' alt='' title='' width='604' height='391' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +MARQUIS DE PRAILLE PLYING HIS ART WITH THE LADIES.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></div> +<p>A strange sympathy stirred in the Countess +for this girl. There seemed to be some +hidden link between them, the nature of +which baffled her. She felt the impulse to +protect and cherish––was it the voice of +Mother Love obscurely speaking?</p> +<p>“Alas!” said Louise. “Blindness is not +the worst of my misfortunes. I––I––”</p> +<p>La Frochard administered a terrible pinch +that pulled Louise away, then “mothered” +her cutely. “We are starving, my beautiful +lady,” she whined, “and the poor girl is out +of her head. What is that you say? <i>Not +my daughter?</i> Yes, indeed she is––the precious––and +the youngest of seven. Charity, +charity! In the name of God, charity!” +she sniffled.</p> +<p>Reluctantly Countess de Linieres stifled +the impulse to mother this kindred and hapless +young being, averred to be the beggar’s +daughter. She placed a golden louis on the +palm of the singer, saying:</p> +<p>“Give this to your mother, child.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII_LOVE_MASTER_OF_HEARTS' id='CHAPTER_XII_LOVE_MASTER_OF_HEARTS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>LOVE, MASTER OF HEARTS</h3> +</div> +<p>The Count’s demands brought to a head +a resolve that had taken possession of +Chevalier de Vaudrey’s heart and soul. Always +the picture of the sweet Norman girl +he had saved from de Praille’s foul clutches +was in his waking thoughts, of nights he +dreamed a blessed romance! He recked +not of the Count’s displeasure, sorrowed +that he must displease his Aunt as sorely. +The only bar was that a vision of the lost +Louise stood, as it were, between him and +his beloved Henriette.</p> +<p>Now that he had come to her to speak of +his proposal, the little heart still quested for +the lost sister.</p> +<p>“Don’t you ever think of anyone but +her?” he asked.</p> +<p>A negative shake of the golden head and +ringleted curls was the answer, though the +cupid mouth and the blue eyes smiled with +tenderness. They stood very close to another, +like poles of a magnet twixt which a +spark flashes.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></div> +<p>Silently Maurice drew from his pocket a +ring. ’Twas of pure gold, a lovely and exquisite +bauble, whereof the two little claws +clasped a golden heart. He handed it to +Henriette, who took it with a happy smile +till she realized its meaning as betrothal.</p> +<p>A wave of color overspread her cheek. +The heir of the de Vaudreys to give himself +to her! Pride and love mingled in her +thoughts.</p> +<p>Yes, to throw himself away on a Commoner +girl––he meant it. Flashed the picture +on her mental retina of the little solemn +oath to Louise. What he asked was +impossible––for him and for her.</p> +<p>Henriette handed back the ring.</p> +<p>“Marry you––an aristocrat! Why, that +would ruin you in the eyes of <i>all the world</i>!”</p> +<p>He was down on his knees, pleading, +agonized, distressed, looking for some sign +of relentment from the beauteous little +head that seemed rigidly to repress emotion.</p> +<p>“Then you d-o-n-’t l-o-v-e m-e?” he faltered +at last, rising.</p> +<p>“No!” was the reply, in a firm but very +small voice.</p> +<p>The broken Chevalier started slowly for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +the door. He turned slightly and caught +the sound of sobs.</p> +<p>Wheeling around, he saw her arms half +stretched towards him. He bounded back.</p> +<p>He was now kissing the hem of her garments, +her gloves, her roses, her fingertips, +and crying extravagantly, almost shouting +the words: “You DO love me!”</p> +<p>Gently Henriette imparted a maiden’s +delicate kiss on his cheek. “When Louise +is found––” she was half sobbing in his +arms, “––dreams––yes––perhaps you might +find a way to bring them true!”</p> +<p>But the gallant gentleman jumps forward +to the end of the dream. Youthfully +swearing that Louise will soon be found, he +visions their exquisite happiness as of tomorrow +or the day after. He holds her delightedly, +then draws her closer. The kindred +magnets are one.</p> +<p>Lips meet lips in soul-kiss that cause the +maidenly head to hide under elbow in confusion. +Kissing almost every part and furnishing +of that dear second self––vowing +never to rest till he brings Louise and takes +Henriette––the ecstatic cavalier is gone!</p> +<p>Alas for the quickly visioned dream-facts +of twenty-four! Full long shall be the interval +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +betwixt the bright Utopia and the +heavenly reality:––the dungeon, the Storm, +the death chamber and e’en the shining axe +shall intervene.</p> +<p>A great Nation shall have thrown off its +old tyrants and weltered in the blood of new +tyranny. What matter? The souls of the +girl and the man are one, they shall be faithful +unto the End!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII_THE_RECOGNITION' id='CHAPTER_XIII_THE_RECOGNITION'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>THE RECOGNITION</h3> +</div> +<p>The Chevalier de Vaudrey sought his +Aunt and begged her to see his beloved before +finally siding with the Count against +him. The incident of the chance encounter +with the blind girl had stirred the Countess, +awakened renewed pity for hapless love +such as she herself had once experienced. +She decided to visit Henriette, if only to +divert her from the seemingly mad project +of a union with the Chevalier.</p> +<p>Meantime Count Linieres had decided to +exercise the power of the dread lettres de +cachet. In the France of that day, personal +rights were unknown. Subject only to the +King’s will, no other warrant than the Prefect’s +signature was required to send anyone +into exile or to life imprisonment. The +means that Linieres now had in mind were +often used to quell rebellious lovers.</p> +<p>He would brand this inconvenient, presumptuous +Henriette Girard as a fallen +woman, imprison her at La Salpetriere, and +then ship her as a convict to Louisiana. +That would get rid of her, truly!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></div> +<p>In the meanwhile the Chevalier, if disobedient, +could cool his heels in the prison +tower of the royal fortress at Caen. After +a while, he might indeed see reason and +think better of marrying the Princesse de +Acquitaine!</p> +<p>He summoned the Chevalier. The autocratic +Count brooked no words; he commanded +marriage with the State heiress––or +exile!</p> +<p>His nephew refusing, the guards were +summoned, the young man gave up his +sword, and under their escort he was presently +on his way to Caen prison.</p> +<p>Then, summoning a detail of military police, +the Count moved to carry out the other +part of his plan.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“You are Mademoiselle Henriette Girard?” +inquired the Countess kindly on entering +the girl’s lodgings.</p> +<p>Henriette greeted the distinguished and +aristocratic lady with due respect. Making +her comfortable in a guest chair, she resumed +her sewing and listened.</p> +<p>“I am the aunt of the Chevalier Maurice +de Vaudrey.” The girl, startled, looked up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +from her work. “Marriage between you +and the Chevalier is impossible.”</p> +<p>“I love him, Madame,” replied Henriette, +simply.</p> +<p>“Then it is your duty to give him up, +since it is the will of the King that he marry +Princesse de Acquitaine––”</p> +<p>Henriette paled. For an instant the blue +eyes looked near-tigerish, with green and +yellow lights. Yet she must save Maurice +from the King’s wrath.</p> +<p>“If you will make this sacrifice,” continued +the Countess, “I shall not prove ungrateful +with any reward that is in my +power.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, there is!” replied Henriette +earnestly. She showed the Countess her +sampler, on which she was working the +word––</p> +<p class='center'>LOUISE</p> +<p>“Louise––that name is very dear to me,” +replied the Lady softly. She visioned a +scene of long ago when an infant Louise +had been snatched from her young arms––the +arms of a mother deprived of her offspring.</p> +<p>“She is my sister,” resumed Henriette––“lost, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +wandering and alone, on the streets +of Paris. Oh, help me find her, and I––I +will do anything you say!” The poor creature +sobbed in her double misery.</p> +<p>She pointed to her own eyes in gesture to +portray Louise’s misfortune: “Blind––so +helpless––it was just like taking care of a +baby.” She told the story of her abduction +and the loss of her sister, then of Chevalier +de Vaudrey’s vain efforts and hers to trace +her.</p> +<p>The Countess de Linieres leaned forward +in intense sympathy conjoined with a certain +weird premonition.</p> +<p>“She isn’t really my sister,” went on Henriette, +“but I owe her the love of a mother +and sister combined. She saved us from +want and death. My father found her on +the steps of Notre Dame––”</p> +<p>A low cry escaped the Countess.</p> +<p>“––where he was about to put me as a +foundling, there not being a morsel of food +in our wretched home. This other baby +was half buried under the snow. He +warmed the little bundle against his body +and mine––and, rather than let us perish +there of the cold, returned homeward with +both infants in his arms. Suspended from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +the other baby’s neck were a bag of gold +and this locket––”</p> +<p>The Countess gasped. She put a hand +to her heart and seemed about to faint before +recovering strength to examine the +locket that Henriette handed to her.</p> +<p>It was a miniature that the Prefect’s wife +recognized as her own!</p> +<p>Opened, it disclosed an aged and yellowed +bit of paper, on which the writing was still +visible:</p> +<p class='center'>HER NAME IS LOUISE<br /> +SAVE HER</p> +<p>“My child! My own Louise!” she cried, +“––lost, wandering and blind in Paris. Tell +me, tell me––” She had almost fainted. +The floodgate of tears relieved her pent +heart.</p> +<p>Henriette was bending over her now, her +arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort.</p> +<p>But the girl herself was near the breaking +point. The voice of the loved and absent +one seemed to sound in her ears.</p> +<p>Was it an hallucination?</p> +<p>“Singing,––don’t you hear?” said Henriette, +softly, to the Mother.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></div> +<p>The girl brushed a hand across her eyes +and tapped her temple.</p> +<p>“In my dreams oft I hear it, my sister’s +voice. I must be losing my reason!”</p> +<p>Again swelled the notes of the Norman +melody, and this time the Mother heard +too.</p> +<p>The two sprang to their feet.</p> +<p>Henriette dashed to balcony window. At +the end of the street she saw a figure clad +in beggar’s rags that she thought she knew.</p> +<p>“LOUISE!”</p> +<p>Henriette’s cry echoed down the street +and impinged on the blind beggar’s brain. +The outcast ran groping and stumbling forward, +no longer singing, but calling “Henriette!” +Her keeper, Widow Frochard, was +not in sight.</p> +<p>The blind girl came nearer. Frochard +emerged from a ginshop and tried to head +her off. The Mother followed Henriette to +the window. The latter encouraged Louise +with little cries:</p> +<p>“Don’t get excited!”</p> +<p>“It’s all right!”</p> +<p>“Wait there!”</p> +<p>“I’ll be down in one instant!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span></div> +<p>She rushed past the Countess across the +room and flung wide the door, on the very +brink of happiness.</p> +<p>But a troop of guards stood there to her +astonished gaze. The Count de Linieres, +standing at their head, pronounced her +name as if reading a warrant: “Henrietta +Girard!”</p> +<p>The girl drew back, then charged like a +little fury on the gunstocks and bosoms of +the troopers, pounding them with her fists.</p> +<p>Unable to move this granite-like wall, she +dashed back to the balcony eyrie, imploring +Louise with both hands.</p> +<p>“Arrest her!” said de Linieres to the soldiers.</p> +<p>Brawny troopers pulled her back as she +would have jumped out of the window to +the flagging below––and her Louise. Vainly +the Countess de Linieres entreated for +mercy. They dragged the girl downstairs.</p> +<p>Here again she made a frantic appeal and +wild effort to join her blind charge, who was +being hurried away in the vise-like grip of +La Frochard.</p> +<p>“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, have pity––let +me go to my sister, or I shall lose her +again!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div> +<p>Deaf to her entreaties, they took her to +La Salpetriere, this loveliest of virgins, to +be immured among the foul characters +there!</p> +<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:2em;'>END OF PART ONE</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></div> +<h2>PART II</h2> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV_DOWN_IN_THE_DEPTHS' id='CHAPTER_XIV_DOWN_IN_THE_DEPTHS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>DOWN IN THE DEPTHS</h3> +</div> +<p>With Henrietta condemned to the cruel +fate of immurement in a prison for the fallen, +the Chevalier trussed up in royal Caen, +and his aunt the Countess prostrated by the +hag’s recapture of and disappearance with +the noblewoman’s long-lost daughter, blind +Louise, ’twould seem as if our characters +faced indeed blank walls of ruin, misery and +despair, from which no power could rescue +them.</p> +<p>In those times, the utter vanishing of persons +who incurred police disfavor was no +uncommon incident. Often no public +charge was made; merely the gossiped +whisper that So-and-So lay in Bastille or +La Salpetriere “at the royal pleasure,” kept +the unfortunate faintly in memory till the +lapse of years caused him or her to be forgotten. +And, sometimes, even, at the prison +gate, identity vanished. Did not the celebrated +and mysterious Man in the Iron +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +Mask carry his baffling secret through decades +of dungeon death-in-life to the prisoner’s +dark grave?</p> +<p>Others were silently transported to exile +overseas. As England had her Botany Bay, +so France had Louisiana. Let us take a +glance at La Salpetriere (as Henriette is being +dragged there by Count de Linieres’ +troopers) to look at the sights and scenes of +the famous female prison, and contemplate +what the inmates had in store.</p> +<p>There was no interesting toil to relieve +their unhappy lot, and no distinction was +made of the insane, the law-breaking criminal, +and the wretched streetwalker or demimondaine. +In the courtyard, during the +exercise periods, the only talk was of the +terms of imprisonment and of the chances +of Louisiana. In that gray monotony the +ministrations of the charitable Sisters, +headed by the saintly Sister Genevieve (who +had been born within the walls of the +prison), furnished the one bright spot.</p> +<p>“Do not grieve so!” said one of the older +inmates who had begged a little needlework, +to a novice who was seated on a +bench, weeping convulsively with her head +in her arms.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></div> +<p>“Oh, I can never live such a life as this!” +replied the poor girl, giving way to new +grief.</p> +<p>“Try to do something or other, ’twill +make you forget your troubles.”</p> +<p>“I’ve never done anything in my life––except +amuse myself!” replied the ex-grisette.</p> +<p>“That would be precious hard work in +this place,” said a third speaker, who had +passed several years of the dreary inactions +of prison life.</p> +<p>“Well, anyhow, I’ve had my fling!” remarked +the newcomer, drying her eyes. +“Scores of admirers crowded around me, +willing to ruin themselves for my amusement––” +she said in a vivacious manner, as +she recalled her past triumphs.</p> +<p>“And it all peters down to prison, eating +gruel with a wooden spoon,” said the cynical +old-timer; “then, some day, we shall be +treated as those poor creatures were yesterday––hurried +off with a guard of soldiers +to see us safe on our weary exile––”</p> +<p>“Does the idea of exile frighten you?”</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_6' id='linki_6'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-086.jpg' alt='' title='' width='392' height='599' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +ONE OF THE BEAUTIES OF THE GARDEN FETE OF BEL-AIR.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></div> +<p>“Who would not be frightened at the idea +of being led off amid insults and jeers––condemned +to a two months’ voyage in the +vilest company––and at the end of it be +landed in a wild country to face the alternatives +of slavery or a runaway into the savage +swamps?”</p> +<p>“Plenty of work to relieve monotony––”</p> +<p>“They say women are scarce out there in +Louisiana. Perhaps I shall get a husband, +and revenge myself on the male creation +that way––”</p> +<p>Their speculations were cut short by the +entry of a squad of troopers literally dragging +tiny Henriette Girard within the +prison walls. Cold and unfeeling at best, +these men had no sympathy with their +young charge whom they naturally believed +to be one of the harpies or half-wits +caught in the police dragnet. They thrust +her mid the crowd in the courtyard and departed. +The great iron doors clanged shut. +The gatekeeper turned the massive key. +Henriette––without a friend in the world +to appeal to––was an inmate of dread La +Salpetriere!</p> +<p>Like a flock of magpies the imprisoned +demi-mondaines, petty thieves, and grosser +criminals for love or for hate, crowded +around the girl, inquiring what offence had +brought her amongst them.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></div> +<p>“I am innocent!”</p> +<p>Her little sobbing cry of self-justification +was received with jibes and winks. Was +not such the formula of every prisoner? +They pressed her for her story. Looking +at these ignoble spirits, the girl could not +bear to acquaint them with her pure and +holy romance.</p> +<p>As she turned away, a new shock met her +gaze.</p> +<p>Faugh! What was this physical weakness, +this nausea-like repulsion, but the +bodily reaction from the tense spiritual +agony she had suffered?</p> +<p>Courage! She must look again. That +wild woman––hair down, breath gasping, +arms weaving threateningly––was coming +at her like a murderess. Momentarily Henriette +expected the long arms to seize her, +the steel-like hands and wrists to choke her.</p> +<p>She looked yet a third time. The crazy +“murderess” had veered her course, but +what was that other object nearby? A +Niobe weeping for her own and the world’s +sorrows! Or this one over here––a shrieking +maniac calling on all Hell’s legions for +vengeance on fancied enemies! Beyond, +gibbering victims of paresis, white-haired +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +idiots, wasted sufferers from senile dementia.</p> +<p>Not a friendly face, not a kind look nor +an understanding eye! Crime, passion, +foulness, insanity. The sheer horror of her +situation mercifully blotted out consciousness. +She sank, a crumpled heap to the +floor.</p> +<p>“The girl is sick,” said Sister Genevieve, +who had entered at this moment and was +presently bending over her. “Here, two of +you lift her and carry her into the hospital––we +shall have the good Doctor from La +Force attend her!” Two of the sturdier +prisoners bore her away....</p> +<p>Beautiful, pitiful Henriette!</p> +<p>The horrors of the madwomen thou +facest in Salpetriere; the obscene shouts +and curses of the fallen; the fury of the female +criminal; the misery of the poor distracted +half-wits, where mad and sane are +given the same cell:––these shall be but confused +phantasmagoria projected on thy sick +brain during this prison time before the +awful Storm breaks––the lightning strikes––the +thunder crashes, and the sharp female +called La Guillotine holds thee in its embrace.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></div> +<p>From the tumbril shalt thou find and kiss +the blind girl, and Maurice de Vaudrey shall +accompany thee into the Valley of the +Shadow!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV_LIGHT_RAYS_IN_THE_DARKNESS' id='CHAPTER_XV_LIGHT_RAYS_IN_THE_DARKNESS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>LIGHT RAYS IN THE DARKNESS</h3> +</div> +<p>Henriette was nursed through a severe +mental and bodily illness by Sister Genevieve +directed by the visiting prison Doctor, +none other than him who had examined +the eyes of Louise before Notre Dame.</p> +<p>During this period it was quite impossible +for the attendants to get her story. +She herself in lucid moments could hardly +realize her situation, nor in any wise remember +how she had come to it.</p> +<p>But one day new strength seemed to be +hers. Feverish and with hair unbound and +a wild light in her eyes, she sprang out of +her cot, sought Genevieve in the main +prison, and knelt before her.</p> +<p>“Oh, Madame!” cried Henriette in imploring +accents, “if you are the mistress +here, have pity on me, and order them to set +me free. I ask you on my knees!”</p> +<p>“You are still ill, my child,” said Sister +Genevieve tenderly, stroking Henriette’s, +long hair with a gentle, loving touch.</p> +<p>“Certainly you are,” confirmed the Doctor, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +who was just then on his way to the +hospital ward. “Why have you left your +bed without my permission?”</p> +<p>“Oh, monsieur!” said the poor girl, turning +to the gentle-voiced, pleasant-faced man +who spoke so kindly, “have you attended +me in my illness? Look––thanks to your +care––I have recovered!” she affirmed confidently, +though her hectic features and +weak motions belied it.</p> +<p>“They left me alone for a few moments, +and I arose and dressed myself. Now that +you see I am quite well, you will tell them +to let me go, will you not?”</p> +<p>The Doctor gazed at her compassionately +before answering:</p> +<p>“That is impossible. To release you from +this place requires a far greater power than +mine.”</p> +<p>“This place?” asked the young girl in surprise. +“Why, what is it? Is it not a hospital?”</p> +<p>“A hospital and a prison,” replied the +physician gravely.</p> +<p>“A prison!” exclaimed Henriette in terror, +striving to remember how she came to +be in such a place.</p> +<p>At last the events that preceded her illness +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +gradually came back to her mind, until +she understood all.</p> +<p>“Ah, I remember,” she said at length. +“Yes, I remember the soldiers who dragged +me here, and him who commanded.... +And Maurice––was he too condemned? +Alas, poor Louise––my last sight of her +showed her in the power of vile, unscrupulous +wretches! Oh, dear God, what have I +done to be crushed like this!”</p> +<p>She dropped, weeping and wailing, to the +floor.</p> +<p>“Sister,” said the Doctor, turning away +to hide his tears, “this is not a case for my +care. You must be the physician here.”</p> +<p>“I know virtue and innocence when I see +it, surely this child has done nothing worthy +of a term at Salpetriere!” replied the kind +Genevieve softly, lifting up the stricken girl +and embracing her.</p> +<p>“Come, dear, you must rest yet a little +longer in order to acquire the full strength +so as to be able to tell me everything. Assuredly +we will help you!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>In the course of convalescence Henriette +told her complete story to Sister Genevieve. +The narrative included the girls’ journey to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +Paris, her kidnapping and rescue, the disappearance +of Louise, de Vaudrey’s suit and +the objections of his family, the recognition +of her sister as the Countess’s long-lost +daughter, Louise’s recapture by the beggars, +and the peremptory act of the Police +Prefect whereby mother and daughter, and +beloved foster-sisters, were cruelly parted, +and Henriette branded with the mark of +the fallen woman by incarceration in La +Salpetriere.</p> +<p>Sister Genevieve was strangely moved by +it, as was the Doctor to whom she repeated it.</p> +<p>“Against the will of the Police Prefect +we can do nothing!” said the Doctor, soberly. +“If only his wrath has cooled, we +may possibly get her term shortened––”</p> +<p>“What monstrous wickedness!” interrupted +the Sister, ordinarily mild and loyal, +but worked up to near-democracy by these +and other injustices. “To imprison a pure +girl––her only offence a nobleman’s honorable +suit and her own ceaseless search for +her blind sister, lost in the streets of Paris!”</p> +<p>“This girl Henriette was her blind sister’s +sole support,” suggested a nurse.</p> +<p>“I had found her––Louise––at the moment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +when they arrested me,” exclaimed +Henriette sorrowfully. “I heard her voice. +I saw her. She was covered with rags. Her +beautiful golden hair fell in disorder on her +shoulders. She was being dragged along +by a horrible old woman, who I know ill-treats +her––beats her, perhaps, and they +would not let me go to her. Now I have +lost her forever––forever!”</p> +<p>“Wait a minute, my child,” exclaimed the +physician, as a sudden thought flashed over +him. “I believe I have met that very same +girl.”</p> +<p>“You, monsieur?” exclaimed Henriette +in surprise.</p> +<p>“Yes––yes, a young girl led by an old +woman who calls her Louise––”</p> +<p>“Yes––yes, that’s her name,” and the +young girl became breathless with excitement.</p> +<p>“I know the old woman, too,” continued +the Doctor. “She is called La Frochard––an +old hag who goes about whining for alms +in the name of Heaven and seven small +children.</p> +<p>“Where did I last see them?” he mused. +Suddenly he recollected a little scene on the +steps of Notre Dame one morning before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +mass. “Oh, yes,” he continued, “they were +begging for charity of the churchgoers at +Notre Dame. I noticed that the young girl +was blind––professionally interested, I examined +her pupils and discovered she was +merely suffering from cataracts which +could be readily removed. I told the old +woman so, asked her to bring the girl for +treatment to La Force, but they have never +shown up––”</p> +<p>“Quick! Quick!” cried Henriette. “Tell +me, Doctor, where Mere Frochard lives?”</p> +<p>“Oh, they inhabit an old boathouse at the +end of the Rue de Brissac down on the +banks of the river Seine. There’s a cellar +entrance to their hovel near the Paris-Normandy +coach house. But what would you +do?” he inquired solicitously.</p> +<p>“Oh, Sir,” said Henriette piteously, “if +you could use your influence to get me out +of here some way, I would––would run +there and recover my little lost sister! You +don’t know how I love her, nor my fears +that they will kill her. Please, please––” +The little voice broke off in sobs.</p> +<p>Patting the girl’s shoulder and smiling at +her as if to try to impart confidence in a +very difficult matter, the good Doctor drew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +apart with Sister Genevieve and conferred +earnestly for a few moments. On their return, +the physician spoke again:</p> +<p>“’Twould be of no use to invoke the police, +as the Count has probably instructed +them not to hunt for Louise. Nor is it in +our power to release you from here. But +we shall get up a petition signed by all of +us for your reprieve, very likely Count de +Linieres will not venture to refuse it––”</p> +<p>Henriette was overjoyed even with this +slender resource, and warmly thanked them. +At once her busy little brain laid plans for +invading the lair of the Frochards. And +then––a most unexpected ray in the darkness––arrived +at Salpetriere the quaint +valet Picard and brought her comfort too.</p> +<p>No longer a spy for the Count, he had +been converted from base suspicion by the +Chevalier’s honorable suit and the exile the +latter had suffered. He now delivered this +little message from his master at Caen:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Dearest, never will I marry anyone but you, my +heart’s desire! Should I escape, it will be to your arms. +Picard knows my secret plan and will tell you––until +then, courage! A thousand kisses from your Maurice.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Henriette kissed the little paper fervently.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span></div> +<p>Countess de Linieres decided to make a +clean breast of her wretched past to her +husband. “It was not that I––I sinned,” she +sobbed, kneeling at his feet, “In the sight +of God I am innocent, though erring!</p> +<p>“In early girlhood,” she continued, “I +loved and was loved by a Commoner, a man +of the people. The good Cure married us +secretly. We were blessed by an infant +daughter.</p> +<p>“The family pride of the de Vaudreys was +outraged by the so-called dishonor. Two +of the clan found our hiding-place and slew +my husband, then took my baby Louise +from my helpless arms. I was brought back +to the chateau and given in marriage to you, +after threats of death if I should ever divulge +the secret! Twenty years after, I +saw my daughter as Louise the blind singer––the +girl Henriette, whom you sent to Salpetriere, +is her foster-sister. Oh, forgive, +forgive––put me away if you wish, but consider +what I have suffered!...”</p> +<p>The strong man, whom neither the fate +of Maurice nor of Henriette had melted, +was crying. Gently he lifted up the Countess +and clasped her sobbing in his arms.</p> +<p>“If you had only told me before––” was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +the only word to which he could give utterance.</p> +<p>The hellish aspect of his persecutions +now stood revealed. Count de Linieres, in +the act of divine forgiveness, resolved to +undo wrongs.</p> +<p>But History struck faster.</p> +<p>The avenger Jacques-Forget-Not annihilated +pardons. The Linieres and the other +aristocrats were soon to flee for their lives.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI_REVOLUTION_IS_HERE' id='CHAPTER_XVI_REVOLUTION_IS_HERE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>REVOLUTION IS HERE!</h3> +</div> +<p>The ex-retainer nicknamed “Forget-Not” +bore a baleful grudge because of the cruelties +inflicted on his own father many years +before by the Countess’s father––the cruel +punishment of pouring boiling lead into the +unfortunate tenant’s veins: a procedure +on which the boy Chevalier had been taught +to look approvingly.</p> +<p>In fact ever since the elder Jean Setain +displeased the then Seigneur of the de Vaudrey +estate, the affairs of the tenant family +had gone to wrack and ruin until the middle-aged +son was little more than a landless +beggar and an embodied voice calling for +vengeance.</p> +<p>The original parties of the quarrel were +dead. But the feud (on the part of Jacques-Forget-Not) +had taken on a more personal +aspect, because his own sufferings were involved +as well as the memory of his father’s. +He had determined to kill the Chevalier, +the Countess and the Count.</p> +<p>In normal times the monomaniac’s designs +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +would never have reached fruition. +Now the vast public discontents converted +the cringing ex-tenant or shrieking beggar +into a gaunt, long-haired, ferocious agitator––one +of the outstanding crazy figures +of Great Crises!</p> +<p>For the Storm––long brewing in seditious +Palais Royal or seething faubourg, +in the heart and conscience of patriot Dantons, +the cunning of Robespierres, the wildness +of Desmoulins fire-eaters, the starvation +and misery of the people––struck the +doomed country with full force.</p> +<p>In the outcome the fat King Louis XVI, +the hapless royal family, and the whole supporting +system of parasitic aristocracy, +were hurled down into black nothingness! +The upset released our characters from the +horrors of prison immurement, only to +plunge them in the more awful tyranny of +the New Terror.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Early in midsummer the wildest rumors +reached Paris that the Versailles government +intended to put down the discontents +by weight of sword. Armies were advancing +on the city, ’twas averred––cannon and +arms were being parked in the commanding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +squares; the King’s faithful Allemands and +Swiss were about to attack the representatives +of the people and mow them down.</p> +<p>As a beehive, stirred by over-curious bear +or by an invader’s stick, seethes and swarms +in milling fury before the myriads of angry +occupants attack and overwhelm the intruder +with their stings, so the seething +populace mills in widening and ever widening +circles, out to destroy––burn––slay. The +ominous drum murmurs to the people of +their ancient wrongs. Artisans pick up +their nearest implements, the butcher his +axe, the baker his rolling pin, the joiner his +saw, the iron worker his mallet or crowbar, +rushing to join the homicidal throngs. +Vengeful leaders like Forget-Not urge them +on, directing the milling masses to the central +places of the city.</p> +<p>At the Palais Royal gardens, later from +the Cafe de Foy, Camille Desmoulins is in +his glory. See him rushing out, sibylline +in face; his hair streaming, in each hand a +pistol! He springs to a table: the police +satellites are eyeing him; alive they shall +not take him; not they alive, him alive.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_7' id='linki_7'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-102.jpg' alt='' title='' width='597' height='393' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +DANTON WELCOMES LAFAYETTE AND JEFFERSON,<br /> +THE REPRESENTATIVES OF AMERICA’S NEW-WON FREEDOM.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></div> +<p>“‘Friends, shall we die like hunted +hares? Us, meseems, only one cry befits: +To arms! Let universal Paris, universal +France, as with the throat of the whirlwind, +resound: To arms! Friends (continues +Camille) some rallying sign! Cockades, +green one; the color of hope!’ As +with the flight of locusts, these green +leaves; green ribands from the neighboring +shops; all green things are snatched and +made cockades of.... And now to +Curtius’ image shop there; to the boulevards; +to the four winds, and rest not until +France be on fire!”</p> +<p>Ancient flint-locks, pikes and lances are +replevined, and dance high, minatory, over +the heads of the mob. Storerooms of powder +and musketry are broken into and +swept clean. Behold, now, a still more astonishing +sight; a rushing tide of women, +impetuous, all-devouring, equipped with +brooms and household tools, descending +like a snowbreak from all directions upon +the Hotel de Ville. “And now doors fly under +hatchets; the Judiths have broken the +armory; have seized guns and cannon, +three money-bags,” and have fired the +beautiful City Hall of King Henry the +Fourth’s time!</p> +<p>... And where the Storm breaks +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +fiercest and the cry “Down with Tyrants!” +most loudly sounds, there Danton the +revolutionist, the pock-marked Thunderer, +leads the way, whipping up new fury and +moulding them to his will with his appeal +’gainst “Starvation––oppression––ages of +injustice––vile prisons where innocent +ones die under autocracy!”</p> +<p>Danton’s voice shakes the world.</p> +<p>Thousands upon thousands of commoners +gather for the attack on the hated symbol +of royal authority, the prison fortress +of Bastille.</p> +<p>Look! His impassioned eloquence +touches the popular sympathies of the +common soldiers who constitute the royal +guard. They lower their opposing bayonets, +identify their cause with the people’s, +the exultant throng rushes past.</p> +<p>Hurrah! The Revolution shall sweep on. +The King’s foreign soldiery are the only +loyal ones now. At the side of the Place +de Greve the populace throw up barricades. +The conflict twixt Kingship and democracy +has begun.</p> +<p>The people have won more cannon and +more small arms. They rake the loyalist +Swiss and Germans with a murderous fire. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +The foreign troops fight to the last. They +are killed or overwhelmed as the victorious +commonalty take possession of the Square. +Danton who has directed the proletariat is +the popular hero.</p> +<p>Forget-Not has his share of the triumph +too. “Come, my men,” he yells. “On to +the Police Prefect’s palace––let us avenge +the wrongs of police tyranny!” For in +this dreadful hour the baleful Jacques-Forget-Not +remembers a private vengeance––his +followers need no second urging to +haste with him to sack and slaughter....</p> +<p>Fox-like, Maximilien Robespierre, the +“people’s advocate,” has watched from a +safe recess the issue of the battle. Not for +him, the risking of his precious skin! +Later, in the councils of the new democratic +State, he shall sway men to his purposes....</p> +<p>And now the mob, re-enforced by many +of the popular soldiery, seeks the Bastille. +Our previous description of the system of +lettres de cachet and the wholesale imprisonments +without warrant of law, will +have given readers some idea of the hate +with which this fortress of injustice was +commonly regarded. Many of the attackers, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +no doubt, had friends or relatives immured +there. ’Twas the monstrous and visible +crime of the Kingship––the object all had +immediately in view when crying “Down +with tyranny!”</p> +<p>In less than a day the Bastille falls. +’Tis but feebly defended by a few aged +veterans and a handful of valiant Swiss. +Their first fire kills some of the commoners +and lashes the mob to fury. Up on the +walls, bastions and parapets, away from the +guns at the port holes, crawl some of the +more daring attackers. Others bring cannon, +preparing to carry the siege by cannonade, +investiture and starvation.</p> +<p>The governor, seeing that it is a losing +fight, parleys and yields. But, instead of +observing the terms of the honorable surrender +and safe-conduct, the inrushing mob +slays and mutilates a number of the officers +and defenders––the first inkling of what +murder and rapine the Wild Beast of the +Proletariat will commit!</p> +<p>“Set free the victims of the tyrants!” is +the sole thought after the lust of blood is +satiated. The dungeons are opened, the +prisoners brought forth, joy of reunion or +pathos of sorrow is the result of these +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +strange meetings, many of the victims being +but the wrecks or shadows of their old +selves.</p> +<p>“Set free the victims of tyranny!”</p> +<p>After the Bastille La Salpetriere, the +famous female prison, is summoned. Already +the inmates are on the qui vive of +expectation. Mad and sane are flying about +from cells to courtyard, and courtyard to +barred windows, like birds in storm-flight.</p> +<p>Impatient, restless little Henriette, between +the bars of her cage, is looking out +wonderingly on a re-made world. What +does it mean? Release? the easy path to +her lost Louise?</p> +<p>Pray Heaven it does––</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII_PRISON_DELIVERYAND_AN_ENCOUNTER' id='CHAPTER_XVII_PRISON_DELIVERYAND_AN_ENCOUNTER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>PRISON DELIVERY––AND AN ENCOUNTER</h3> +</div> +<p>The jailers deliver the keys; the mob +pours tumultuously into the female prison. +What cries of joy, what sobs of relief from +the saner inmates, as they try to <i>think</i> their +new, almost incredible jail delivery! What +stony, uncomprehending glances or what +wild shrieks from the maniacal! Amid this +confused throng Picard, who has entered +with the crowd to wait upon his mistress, +presents a comic figure. He has arrayed +himself in the red-and-white striped garb +of the proletariat, is trying his best to look +a Revolutionary, though all he gets for it +are kicks and wallops!</p> +<p>Sense and nonsense mix strangely in the +proceedings of the mob. They set up a +rude court headed by two horny-handed +butchers, the object of which is to separate +the innocent from the guilty. But the new +red-and-white cockade––superseding the +green cockades of the first battle––is the +best passport to their favor. Inmates +whose friends have provided them with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +these Revolutionary badges, are generally +turned loose. Shouting and laughing in +their glee, they dance out of the prison.</p> +<p>Picard has provided Henriette with his +badge, whilst Sister Genevieve and the +Doctor vouch to her good character. Henriette +kisses the cockade as a sign of fealty +to the new order. The brawny judges let +her pass. She runs merrily out past the +harmless gauntlet of the friendly pikes and +lances.</p> +<p>Not so Picard––That luckless valet +tries to sneak out past the big chopper of +the brawny butcher-judge.</p> +<p>Whir-r! The chopper descends in front +of him, almost taking his head off!</p> +<p>Picard executes a strategic retirement to +the rear. There! Isn’t there seemingly a +good chance to crawl out between the other +guardian’s legs, and thus escape?</p> +<p>Picard tries it.</p> +<p>Alas! the first butcher catches sight of +Picard’s be-tufted head protruding in this +strange manner from under the crotch of +his fellow. The Man of Meat grasps Picard +firmly by the collar and pulls him forth.</p> +<p>With the other hand he raises the axe +to chop the offender’s head off, thinks better +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +of it, twirls Picard swiftly around, and +using the flat of the chopper spanks the +rear of the Picard anatomy, sending him +sprawling into the limbo.</p> +<p>So that little Henriette’s excursion into +Freedom is unattended and alone. It is +quite unlikely that she bothers about Picard +at all. “Louise! Rue de Brissac!” is the +sole thought of her whirling little brain, as +she speeds on.</p> +<p>Just where is the Frochards’ cellar door? +Certainly she has never noticed it in her +frequent searches of the Pont Neuf district. +But perhaps some one can tell her––She +is in the Rue de Brissac now, almost at the +spot where she herself was kidnapped and +Louise was lost.</p> +<p>A good-looking daughter of the people +comes hurrying by.</p> +<p>“Can you tell me where the Frochards +live?” inquires Henriette eagerly.</p> +<p>The girl points to an almost indistinguishable +trap-door, nearly covered with +straw, in front of one of the houses. +“There!” she says. Henriette presses the +newcomer to accompany her. “Sorry, I +haven’t a minute!” negatives the other, hastening +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +off in spite of Henriette’s efforts to +detain her.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Henriette opens the trap-door of the cellar +where the Frochards lodged, and peers +within. Courageously she goes down the +steps. Sympathy and horror struggle in +the thought of Louise being an inmate of +this foul place.</p> +<p>What is her disgust then to encounter +the wart-faced and moustachioed hag who +is its proprietor! Quickly Henriette tells +La Frochard of her information, and demands +Louise.</p> +<p>“I don’t know any such person,” the hag +lies, with ready effrontery. “You must be +mistaken!”</p> +<p>But Henriette’s eyes are gazing at the +Frochard’s neck, sensing something or +other vaguely familiar. The old woman, +who has been drinking, has unloosened her +nondescript rig. The girl’s gaze sees a +well-remembered object.</p> +<p>“My sister’s shawl!”</p> +<p>The blue eyes are gleaming now in astonishment––with +a hint of coming fury. +She snatches the shawl from La Frochard’s +shoulders, fondles and caresses it. Then +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +like a small tigress robbed of whelp she +advances on the beggar, shaking her in +paroxysmal rage.</p> +<p>It would have been a comical sight if not +so very serious a one; the tiny Henrietta +shaking a woman twice her size, pummeling +her, brow-beating her till La Frochard +sinks to her knees and begs for mercy.</p> +<p>“You have been lying, and that shawl +proves it,” cries Henriette. “Where is +she?”</p> +<p>The old woman gets up. She changes +her tone to a whine, and tries to pat Henriette +in pretended sympathy. “Well, if +you must know the truth––”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” cries Henriette, “go on!”</p> +<p>“––she <i>was</i> with us, but alas!––poor +thing––with the hard life we have to lead––she––she +died!”</p> +<p>The searcher for Louise reels as if about +to faint.</p> +<p>She collects herself with difficulty, and +stares at La Frochard. A distraught look +is on the girl’s face.</p> +<p>It is a look of utter misery, compounded +with mistrustfulness of the deceiving hag.</p> +<p>She leaves the cellar, fully resolved to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +invoke the Law––if Law––in this wild time––there +can be found...</p> +<p>A bundle of rags, on which Henrietta +has almost stepped in passing, moves very +slightly.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII_THERE_IS_NO_LAW' id='CHAPTER_XVIII_THERE_IS_NO_LAW'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>“THERE IS NO LAW––”</h3> +</div> +<p>The wild and drunken madness of the +triumphant people expended itself in many +strange forms, of which none was stranger, +more awesome, more ludicrous and yet +more tragic than the Carmagnole.</p> +<p>This was a dance that seized whole multitudes +in its rhythmic, swaying clutch. The +tune was “Ca Ira!” that mad measure of +the sansculottes, meaning roughly––</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“Here it goes––<br /> +<br /> +“And there it goes!”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>––and go forever it did till all the world +of Paris seemed a heaving, throbbing vortex +of werewolves and witches, things lower +than animals in their topsyturvydom, +drunken frenzy and frequent obscenity.</p> +<p>The throng through which Henriette +now directed her steps was verging on this +madness, though not yet at the pitch of it.</p> +<p>Henriette managed to find her way to +two sansculotte troopers stationed in the +centre of the Place, to whom she told her +story. Reasonable fellows they seemed, offering +to conduct her presently to the new +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +authorities and get a search warrant for the +Frochard clan. But the madder swirl of +the Carmagnole came along, and presto! +swallowed them up. It happened on this +wise:</p> +<p>As the locust swarms of the dancers enveloped +them in shortening circles, two +young and attractive maenads broke from +the throng and literally entwined themselves +with the troopers. Military dignity, +assaulted in burlesque, tried to keep +its post. But the bold nymphs were +clinging, not to be “shaken”; as the mad +whirl of the dancers touched the centre, +the troopers and their female captors were +borne away in the ricocheting, plunging +motions, disappearing thenceforward from +our story. Little Henriette dived to a place +of safety, the side wall of the nearest building. +Straightening herself after the unexpected +knocks and bruises, she looked +aghast at the scene before her.</p> +<p>Whole streets of them, plazas of them, +these endlessly gyrating male and female +loons; swirls of gayety, twisting, upsetting +passers-by like a cyclone;––arms, bodies +and legs frantically waving, as at the very +brink of Dante’s Inferno!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></div> +<p>Strange little dramas of lust and conquest +punctuated the cyclonic panorama. +Here, a girl’s snapping black eyes, winking +devilishly, and pursed-up Cupid mouth invited +a new swain to master her. There, a +short-skirted beauty, whose sways and +kicks revealed bare thighs, was dancing +wildly a solo intended to infatuate further +two rival admirers. Again, a half-crazed +sansculotte had won a girl and in token of +triumph was spinning her body horizontally +around like a top, upheld by the open +palm of his huge right arm.</p> +<p>But what might be this comic figure, +quite unpartnered––knocked and shoved +from human pillar to human post––winning +the deep curses of the dancers, and their +hearty wallops when not o’er-busied with +Terpsichore?</p> +<p>Picard, the ex-valet of aristocracy, finally +let out from the Salpetriere mock-court, +had stumbled into this bedlam of sansculotte +craziness, the rhythm and procedure +of which were as foreign to him as a +proposition in Euclid.</p> +<p>But the Jolly Baker, from the Ile de +Paris, was his match. The bare-armed, +lean-legged pleasurer had equipped himself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +(by way of disguise) with a large false +moustache, and evading the close watch of +his hatchet-faced, middle-aged spouse, had +come forth to celebrate. Neither dancer +nor vocalist, the Jolly Baker had other little +entertaining ways all his own.</p> +<p>As the foolscap-crowned, white-and-red-trousered +Picard bumped the pave, he saw +squatting opposite him a figure whose +gleaming eyes, ferocious whiskerage and +lean-wiry frame suggested the canine +rather than the human species. The Jolly +Baker was a bum werewolf, but a “hot +dog.”</p> +<p>The gleaming eyes never left Picard’s +face, the dog-like body jumped whichever +way he did, Picard half expected the dog-man +to bite or snap the next instant and +take a chunk out of him. Both had got +to their feet now; the stranger still silent +and nosey, Picard looking out of the corner +of his eye for a way of escape. But just +then the Baker spied a maenad with a drum.</p> +<p>One could beat drum in celebration, if +naught else. Lo and behold, the posterior +of the foolscapped one would serve for a +drum very nicely! The Jolly Baker twisted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +Picard around, bending him half double as +he did so.</p> +<p>With a rear thrust and firm shoulder +grip, the Jolly Baker leaped upon Picard’s +back. Emulating the young woman’s beating +of the drum, he rained a shower of +blows on the valet’s hind quarters.</p> +<p>The new “drum”-beater was now quite +the cynosure of admiring attention. He +had captured the centre of the stage. He +gloried in it. With a more elaborate, fanciful +and complexive “rat-tat-tat-rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat––”</p> +<p>He suddenly lost his grip of the “human +drum,” Picard wriggled out from under, +and the drummer bumped his own posterior +on the pave.</p> +<p>Calmly, quite undisturbed, the foolish +Baker continued to “rat-tat-tat” with a +stick on the curb, then as the “Ca Ira” beats +resounded above him, his own squatting +body began to sway with the music in a +heightened absurdity. Picard had run off. +He was convinced these people were crazier +than any of those in the mad cells of Salpetriere....</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_8' id='linki_8'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-118.jpg' alt='' title='' width='553' height='393' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +JACQUES FORGET-NOT, SWEARS VENGEANCE ON THE FAMILY OF THE DE VAUDREYS.<br /> +THE COUNT DE LINIERES AND THE CHEVALIER DE VAUDREY HEAR HIS THREATS.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></div> +<p>Long since Henriette had evaded the +worse sights and sounds by creeping as best +she could along the side walls of the buildings, +watching her chance to get away from +the revelers. Again, at the street corner, +another swirl passed over her, knocking her +down. Ruefully she picked herself up +again.</p> +<p>The throng had passed by completely, +leaving but a drunken fool prancing here +and there, or a scant winrow of half-prostrate +figures. Henriette ran with all her +might to the only refuge she knew––her old +faubourg lodgings.</p> +<p>The middle-aged landlady who in days +agone had fetched the guard to subdue +Danton’s would-be assassins, and who likewise +had resented Robespierre’s prying as +to the identity of Henriette’s visitor, studied +the girl at first a bit quizzically. Released +from Salpetriere, eh? Was she the +same sweet, pure Henriette she knew? +Yes, the little Girard––la petite Girard––looked +to be the same hard-working, respectable +seamstress person of yore, only +that she seemed very weak and about to +collapse!</p> +<p>The landlady folded Henriette within one +stout arm.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></div> +<p>She pointed with her free hand to the +bedchamber immediately above.</p> +<p>“Your old room up there awaits you,” +she remarked kindly. “As soon as you +have recovered strength a bit, I have no +doubt the old sewing job will be yours too!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>... Jacques-Forget-Not and his +men arrived too late at the Prefect’s palace +for complete vengeance on the de Vaudreys.</p> +<p>Around the historic Fourteenth of July, +there was a pell-mell exodus of aristocrats +from the city. A panic-stricken servant +brought the Count de Linieres tidings of +the people’s victory.</p> +<p>“Fly, monsieur! Fly, madame!” he cried. +“The troops are overthrown, the Bastille +surrounded, before nightfall the mob will +surely attack here and try to kill your excellencies. +Fly, I implore you!”</p> +<p>Other messengers confirmed the news, +and thus it happened that the erstwhile +proud and arrogant Minister of Police who +but yesterday had ruled France was reduced +to making the most hurried preparations +for flight, aided by the distracted Countess.</p> +<p>The latter realized with a pang that the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +hegira meant farewell, perhaps forever, to +the chance of recovering her lost daughter +Louise from this welter of Paris. How +mysterious the ways of the Higher Power! +Her beloved nephew the Chevalier, at least, +was safe in the distant fortress to which +the Count her husband had condemned him. +Pray God Louise might be saved––, yes! +and her foster-sister Henrietta, beloved of +the Chevalier––Henriette whom her husband +had branded by unjust accusation....</p> +<p>The de Linieres party succeeded in evading +the fate of numbers of the runaway +aristocrats, who were bodily pulled out of +their coaches and trampled upon or strung +up by the infuriated mobs. They managed +to make their way to the northeastern borders +of France. There thousands of emigres +were received under the protection of +foreign powers, awaiting the ripe moment +for the impact of foreign armies on French +soil and the hoped-for reconquest of the +monarchists....</p> +<p>That night the beautiful Hotel de Vaudrey––home +of the Vaudrey and Linieres +family and fortune––was given up to sack +and pillage. Enraged that the objects of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +his vengeance had fled, the leader Forget-Not +ordered a general demolition.</p> +<p>Priceless works of art were hurled about +and destroyed. The cellars of old wines +were quickly emptied by drunken revelers. +The kitchen and pantries catered to the +mob’s gluttony. Wenches arrayed themselves +in the Countess’s costly silks and +linens; perfumed, powdered and painted +with the cosmetics; preened and perked in +the cheval mirrors.</p> +<p>Among the motley crew of destroyers, +drunkards, gluttons, satyrs and sirens, our +friend the Jolly Baker was on the job––unfortunately +for him, accompanied this +time by his hatchet-faced spouse.</p> +<p>He started a flirtation with a new-made +vamp, all tricked out in stolen finery. The +Jolly Baker had found a new use for his +eyes and eyebrows, i.e., to convey love +messages. He was making the most alarming +motions and succeeding most prodigiously +in evoking the new vamp’s answering +smiles when––</p> +<p>“Ker-plunk!”</p> +<p>––Dame Baker fetched him a tremendous +slap directly on the face that caused him to +see innumerable little stars.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span></div> +<p>Gradually coming back to this mundane +world, the Jolly Baker resolved to devote +his strict attention to the bottle....</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX_KNIFE_DUEL_AND_ESCAPE' id='CHAPTER_XIX_KNIFE_DUEL_AND_ESCAPE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>KNIFE DUEL AND ESCAPE</h3> +</div> +<p>The bundle on the cellar floor of the +Frochards den stirred again, this time more +actively.</p> +<p>The crippled knife-grinder Pierre had entered. +His mother was again busied with +her potations. Under the half-lifted rags +showed the tear-stained face of Louise. +The heavy fatigue of street mendicancy had +wrapped her in deep sleep, from which she +woke with a start to her wretched surroundings. +The misery of it all overwhelmed +her. She sobbed, and the big +tears descended from her blind eyes.</p> +<p>“Don’t cry, Louise!” begged the almost +equally wretched Pierre. “There may yet +be escape and the finding of your sister. +Oh!” he said to himself. “If I had but the +courage to lay down my life that I might +make her happy!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The ruffian Jacques Frochard was exhibiting +a sinister interest in the blind girl. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +He had forbidden Pierre to speak to her +or come near her, and now as he entered, +the crippled brother shrank away. “Get +up and go to work!” said Mother Frochard +to the girl roughly, yanking her to her feet.</p> +<p>“I’ll find a way to make her work!” +laughed Jacques with fiendish coarseness. +“You’ll slave for me, eh, my pretty? Yes, +for you, no one but Jacques!”</p> +<p>He leered at her as he appropriated the +coins of her singing.</p> +<p>Huddled in the corner, the silent cripple +bit his finger knuckles until they bled....</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Inflamed with liquor and lust, Jacques +soon decided to carry out his purpose.</p> +<p>“Come with me, my little beauty!”</p> +<p>Mother Frochard chuckled at the sight +of him mastering her. Struggle wildly as +the poor blind creature would to avoid his +grip, he was dragging her slowly to the +stair while her screams were stifled by one +rough hand over her mouth.</p> +<p>But as he was doing this, the huddled +figure rose. “I have been a coward long +enough,” said Pierre. “Don’t touch her!” +laying a restraining hand on Jacques’ arm.</p> +<p>Astonished, Jacques turned. “Who’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +stop me?” He flung his brother prostrate +half way across the room.</p> +<p>The cripple had risen again. A dirk +gleamed in his extended hand. His eyes +blazed like coals. Fury distorted his features +which were craned forward in hideous +ugliness parallel with the knife.</p> +<p>“I will!”</p> +<p>“You misbegotten hunchback!” roared +Jacques, letting loose of the girl and drawing +his own knife. “She is mine. I tell +you I will kill anyone who interferes with +me!”</p> +<p>La Frochard tried to throw herself between +the brothers. Louise groped away, +and as by instinct found refuge behind +Pierre. Jacques pushed the hag aside, saying +savagely: “Let me look after this!”</p> +<p>Each brother stripped off his coat, holding +it as a buckler whilst the right hand +gripped a knife.</p> +<p>“You are right, Jacques,” said the frenzied +cripple. “We Frochards come of a +race that kills!”</p> +<p>The adversaries feinted around each +other in circles, in the Latin mode of fighting +that was their heritage. Coats or sidesteps +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +parried or evaded blows. The knives +gleamed, but did not go quickly home.</p> +<p>If Jacques had the superior strength, +Pierre was the more cat-like. His frail body +was a slight target, so that the other’s great +lunges missed. Then, leaping like a puma, +he was behind and under Jacques’ guard, +and stabbed him in the back.</p> +<p>The great hulk of a man fell back into La +Frochard’s arms, the blood oozing from a +cut that was not mortal though fearsome. +The hag-mother wailed and crooned as if +he were in death agony.</p> +<p>“Quick!” cried the hunchback to Louise, +“the road to liberty is open.” Taking +Louise by the hand, he ran with her up +the steps out of the cellar....</p> +<p>But Henriette did not meet––not until +one fateful hour––the itinerant grinder and +her loved sister whom he protected. They +were in many of the scenes of the later +Revolution. Louise ate off the de Vaudrey +plate, and Pierre perforce sharpened the +knives of the September Massacre. +Tramps of the boiling, tempestuous City, +spectators but not participants of the great +events, they looked ceaselessly for her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span></div> +<p>Nor did the wicked Frochards abide in +the den of Louise’s imprisonment and sufferings. +They too were swallowed up in +the vast maelstrom––to reappear at one +ludicrous moment of tragic times.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX_THE_NEW_TYRANNY' id='CHAPTER_XX_THE_NEW_TYRANNY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>THE NEW TYRANNY</h3> +</div> +<p>Before telling you how the Chevalier de +Vaudrey got out of Caen and how he fared +forth to his love, it is meet that the reader +should understand the rapidly changing +conditions that converted the New France +into a veritable Hell on earth.</p> +<p>After the Fall of the Bastille, and even +after the mob’s sortie on Versailles which +enforced the royal family’s return to Paris +where they lived in the Tuileries, it was the +hope of the moderate patriots that constitutional +monarchy might prevail.</p> +<p>These hopes were dashed, first, by royalty’s +intrigues and double-dealing, and, secondly, +through the pressure of the revolting +emigres and the threat of foreign invasion +that welded all the defenders of France, +willy-nilly, into a traitor-crushing and invader-defying +Republic.</p> +<p>Of all the personages of that unhappy +time, the locksmithing King Louis XVI +least understood what was going on about +him.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></div> +<p>A true Bourbon with an ancestry of +nearly a thousand years’ possession of the +French throne, he never learned anything +and never forgot anything. He played at +being a limited monarch but his sympathies +were naturally with the riffled aristocrats––the +nobility whose privileges had been taken +away, their estates commandeered, their +chateaux fired or sacked, and themselves +obliged to flee for their lives to the protection +of the foreigner.</p> +<p>Not comprehending the nature of the +Storm that wiped out old tyranny, Louis +dangerously rode the Storm, he could not +guide it. His lack of understanding is +sadly shown in the closing scene at Versailles +when they brought him news of the +people’s coming.</p> +<p>“Mais, c’est une revolte. Why, that is a +revolt!” exclaimed the bewildered monarch.</p> +<p>“No, Sire,” replied the Minister gravely, +“’tis not a revolt. It is a revolution!”</p> +<p>Within a few hours the yelling maenads +and bold satyrs of the sansculottes possessed +the gorgeous Salon de la Paix, whilst +the King and his family were on their way +to Paris....</p> +<p>Then followed many weary months of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +royalist intrigue, plot and counter plot, secret +dickers with foreign Powers, attempts +at escape, fresh indignities by the mob, +until at last Royalty is suspended from its +function, becomes the prisoner instead of +the ruler. Turned out of the Tuileries, +Louis and Marie Antoinette are no longer +King and Queen––henceforth Citizen and +Citizeness Capet. At the end of dreadful +imprisonments, looms for the hapless pair +the dread Scaffold....</p> +<p>A real Republic teeters for a short period +on the crest of the Revolutionary wave. +Men are mad with the joy over the new +thought of universal brotherhood. Little +do Danton and the other Utopians realize +that the Pageant of Brotherhood is but the +prelude of a new Despotism.</p> +<p>For a dark ring of foes––spurred to invasion +by the King’s misfortunes––surrounds +France on every side. Within, the +cry re-echoes: “The traitors to the prisons!” +and all the aristocrats as yet at large +are hunted down and put in durance.</p> +<p>As Minister of Justice, Danton, the idol +of the people, acts quickly to subdue aristocracy, +and ceaselessly organizes––organizes––organizes +the raw republican levies +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +into troops fit to resist the advancing Prussians, +Austrians and Savoyards.</p> +<p>Lashed to uncontrollable rage by the preliminary +successes of the invading Prussians, +the Paris proletariat break into the +prisons and massacre the unfortunate members +of the nobility there immured. Few +are spared. Young equally with the old––girls +and women no less than the sterner +sex––the noble, the wise, the cultivated, the +beautiful, are murdered in cold blood. The +September Massacres shock moderates +everywhere with the feeling that France is +at last running amuck––the mad dog of the +Nations.</p> +<p>Yes, France now is running amuck––’ware +of her when she strikes! Lafayette +and other moderates––indeed, several of +the Generals commanding the patriot +armies have fled over the border, disgusted +with the national rabies, utterly unable to +quench it.</p> +<p>The patriot ranks close up. The wilder +element of the sansculottes grasps the helm +of State. In the desperate need of a dictatorship +to cope against the foreign invasion, +Danton procures from the Legislature absolute +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +power for a little inner group, the +Committee of Public Safety.</p> +<p>Working on the passions of the people, +worming himself into favor by denouncing +moderate suspects and advocating the extremest +measures, our sly acquaintance of +the faubourg lodgings––Maximilien Robespierre––becomes +the head of this Committee––thereby +the Tyrant of France.</p> +<p>The foreign foe is indeed driven back, +but at what a cost! The rule of Robespierre’s +fanatical minority that has seized +the State, inaugurates the dreadful Reign +of Terror. The great Revolutionary leader +Danton––Minister of Justice in the earlier +time––has himself caused to be established +the Revolutionary Tribunal for the quick +trial of the public’s foes, and the guillotine +for the guilty. Robespierre uses it as a +ready forged weapon for destroying all who +do not think as he does.</p> +<p>In this storm-wracked world Jacques-Forget-Not +is now a great judge and a most +fanatical patriot. The avenger of the de +Vaudreys heads the Revolutionary Tribunal. +He is in his glory now, for the aristocrats +that the mobs overlooked are sent +in batches to the guillotine––on the most +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +trifling charges, or finally without accusation +at all. The mere fact of being an aristocrat +is a capital offence!</p> +<p>And in and among these slaughters is +intermixed the destruction of Robespierre’s +personal and political rivals––a +work in which the vengeful Jacques-Forget-Not +studies and obeys every whim of +his master, for does not Jacques also have +private grudges as yet unpaid?</p> +<p>... But Danton remains a popular +hero. For his work in driving back the foreign +foe, he is upraised in chair of state by +the multitudes, heading a huzzaing procession +and preceded by young girls strewing +flowers.</p> +<p>None of the bloody butchery has been +Danton’s. He has been too busy fighting +Prussia, Austria and Savoy. Today, as he +sits in the chair of state acknowledging the +acclamations, his heart wells in gratitude to +Henriette who had once saved his life––no +face of treasured memory so dear as hers!</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_9' id='linki_9'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-134.jpg' alt='' title='' width='394' height='596' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +LOVE, MASTER OF HEARTS.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></div> +<p>Confessedly, under the New Tyranny, +there is nothing to engage the great heart +and soul. Sick of the murderous scramble +for pelf and power, he withdraws from +most political activity, though still able to +exert a wide influence.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>About this time twenty-two political +rivals of Robespierre––the Girondists––were +sent by one decree to the guillotine. +Danton, vainly pleading for mercy, saw +that the Committee of Safety machine was +being made an instrument of slaughter. +“France must be purged of all vice!” was +Robespierre’s sanctimonious reply to his +passionate protest. Not long after, the +rival masters of France faced one another +in the hall of the Revolutionary Tribunal, +whereof Jacques-Forget-Not was President.</p> +<p>“Well works this Tribunal you established, +Danton!” said Robespierre, in glee +at the increasing number of executions.</p> +<p>“It was established,” replied the pock-marked +man solemnly, “to punish the +enemies of the people. Now through you––Robespierre––France +rivers with innocent +blood!”</p> +<p>... God help our hero and heroine if +they should encounter its dread fury!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI_ADVENTURES_OF_A_PILGRIM' id='CHAPTER_XXI_ADVENTURES_OF_A_PILGRIM'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>ADVENTURES OF A PILGRIM</h3> +</div> +<p>Some parts of France continued to be +held by the royalists after the establishment +of the Republic.</p> +<p>Insurrectionary war raged in the provinces, +particularly the stubborn war of La +Vendee, and certain loyal fortresses like +Caen managed to resist capture.</p> +<p>It was thus as a prisoner of the royalist +faction, and quite out of touch with worldshaking +events, that our young hero Chevalier +Maurice de Vaudrey lived through the +earlier period of the Revolution.</p> +<p>A love-message from him through Picard +to Henriette––an unsuccessful attempt to +escape; a glimpse of the still handsomely +frizzed and powdered head gazing through +trefoil Gothic window on the outer sunshine +and liberty:––such is all that we may +see of de Vaudrey’s strangely trussed up +life during this time.</p> +<p>He was still enshrined in the heart of the +little seamstress in the Paris faubourg, still +dear to his aunt the Countess who with her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +husband was an emigre beyond the borders. +Otherwise, no hermit nor solitary was more +completely effaced from the world.</p> +<p>The first light of hope was brought to +Caen by a messenger from the Countess, +who had managed to smuggle through a +letter or two and a small box of gold.</p> +<p>“I dare not advise you,” his kind Aunt +wrote. “Escape into France would invite +your death as an aristocrat. On the other +hand, if you make use of the accompanying +pardon signed by your uncle the Count, the +Governor of Caen will probably enroll you +for the inhuman and useless war of La +Vendee. Take the money, my dear +Nephew, and use it as you deem best––the +messenger will secure it for you outside the +prison until you need it!”</p> +<p>De Vaudrey pondered, as his Aunt advised. +But, really, there was but the one +course for him! To win through, disguised, +at whatever peril, to Henriette; to +find her and Louise; to save them from that +black welter of the Revolution, and guide +them out of the country to the loving care +of the Countess and the repentant Count: +yes, such was the course that both Love +and Duty dictated. He would begin it that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +night, aided by his faithful friend the messenger.</p> +<p>“Hand part of the gold,” he whispered +the Countess’s agent, “to some rustic carter +on whom you can rely. Bring another part +here and give it to a keeper whom I shall +point out to you!”</p> +<p>The impromptu little plot worked perfectly. +The friendly keeper, having gotten +a peep at the ex-Police Prefect’s letter of +pardon, needed but the clincher argument +of the gold in order to aid de Vaudrey’s escape. +A rope over the wall, and even a +plank across the moat, were mysteriously +provided. In the last silent watch of the +night, the go-between (who had been waiting) +conducted the escaped prisoner to the +carter’s cavern. Already the East was +showing the ghostly light of the first faint +streaks of dawn.</p> +<p>Having breakfasted in the cave and put +his few belongings into a pack, de Vaudrey +with the two others stepped out of the dark +hole into the growing light.</p> +<p>The carter pointed to the Chevalier’s +frizzled locks and elegant if faded dress. +“They would take you up at the first village +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +crossing on that!” he remarked. “Your +get-up gives you away.”</p> +<p>The Chevalier retired to a new toilette. +Within, were the primitive resources of +rustic wardrobe. As he emerged again from +the cavern, old boon companions would indeed +have been startled by the guise he +now wore.</p> +<p>Beautiful apparel, cane, wig, lorgnette +and snuffbox were in the discard. The frizzled +locks were gone, revealing long +straight black hair which was crowned by a +shabby tricorne hat. The Chevalier’s elegant +form was covered by an ill-fitting +ragged black suit, which a pair of dusty +shoes well matched. Across one shoulder +he carried a pack stick, to which a thoroughly +disreputable-looking small black +bundle was fastened.</p> +<p>“You’ll do now,” said the rustic. “Remember +you’re only a helper on a carter’s +journey to Paris.”</p> +<p>Rustic and helper took their leave of the +go-between by plunging through a wide +but shallow stream. When they had +emerged at the farther bank, they felt secure +that their steps could not be traced. +Waving good-byes to the other, the rustic +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +and his man hastened to a stable where they +loaded a provision wagon and attached a +country Dobbin to the thills. Presently de +Vaudrey, in his new character of the carter’s +assistant, was on the first stage of +the long journey to the storm-wracked +metropolis.</p> +<p>The carter’s load was of so little value, +the whole outfit so poverty-stricken, that +neither country Royalist nor provincial +Revolutionary saw fit to bother them.</p> +<p>Gradually the carter sold his wares in the +smaller villages en route. They wisely +avoided the larger towns. The cart was +nearly empty now. Saleables had all been +disposed of except a few apples.</p> +<p>“How are you and I going to get into +Paris?” said the distinguished young aristocrat, +whose respect for the Reuben had +increased daily.</p> +<p>“Trust me!” said the other. His broad, +moon-faced physiognomy masked the +cunning of the fox. “I have this apple +here––”</p> +<p>The carter eyed his assistant intently and +winked solemnly as if to say: “That will do +the trick!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></div> +<p>As they leave the open country behind +and jog through the better settled regions +immediately north of Paris, let us take our +stand beside the “barrier” or outer gate +which they are slowly approaching.</p> +<p>Judge Forget-Not and his fellows are inspecting +the barriers. The voice of the +Chief is heard speaking.</p> +<p>“Watch strictly that no aristocrats escape. +Our new <i>law</i> also condemns to death +all who harbor an aristocrat.”</p> +<p>The Inquisitor’s face assumes a yet +harsher expression as he addresses the +guards: “Beware lest you yourselves be +suspect!––Remember the sharp female +‘Guillotine’!”</p> +<p>Forget-Not draws a significant hand +across the throat. A shudder passes +through the more timid folk.</p> +<p>The coarse-faced guards applaud and +promise to use the utmost precautions. The +judges move on, inspecting another part of +the barrier.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII_ADVENTURES_OF_A_PILGRIM_CONTINUED' id='CHAPTER_XXII_ADVENTURES_OF_A_PILGRIM_CONTINUED'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>ADVENTURES OF A PILGRIM (CONTINUED)</h3> +</div> +<p>The farmer’s cart nears the gate. The +moon-faced Reuben is as impassive as ever. +Though the tall assistant manages to keep +his expression fairly immobile too, ’tis evident +to us who know him that he labors +under suppressed excitement. For the prize +of his Great Quest is Henriette; the penalty +of discovery and capture, Death!</p> +<p>The gallant young man does not hesitate, +however. He has never shrunk from Danger’s +bright face, least of all would he +shrink now when the passing of a brief ordeal +may well mean reunion with his beloved +and her rescue from the welter of +Paris. The Pilgrim’s soul hungers and +thirsts for her. After the great Sahara of +imprisoned loneliness, how near the Oasis +of love and rapture! How beautiful the +prospect, if not indeed Mirage!</p> +<p>The rustic’s helper dismounts with the +farmer at the gate, and follows him into the +office of the registrar. The farmer presents +a pass.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></div> +<p>“This is for one only,” says the registrar +at the gate, roughly. “The other cannot go +through,” he says, pointing to de Vaudrey, +who tries to look as stupid and uncomprehending +as possible.</p> +<p>The farmer hands a big red apple to the +functionary. But the latter makes a gesture +of refusal.</p> +<p>“Bite into it!” says the Rustic ingratiatingly.</p> +<p>The official bites at the top which comes +off––a smooth and even slice. The centre +of the apple is hollow. Within it are several +gold coins.</p> +<p>Quickly the gatekeeper covers the golden +apple with his hairy paw. “Your papers +are all right,” he says gruffly, rapidly converting +the figure 1 into a 2, and viseing the +pass for two. He motions for both the man +and the youth to go through.</p> +<p>The farmer and his follower drive in and +mix with the crowd on the inside of the barrier. +At this stage the farmer disappears +from our history. But the face of the youth +is noted by an eagle eye and recognized by +a brain that does not forget!</p> +<p>The prowling Judge sees the Chevalier, +though the Chevalier does not see him.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></div> +<p>“Follow that man!” he says quietly to +his deputies. “We shall catch him red-handed +in some plot!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Our little heroine had lived quietly for +many months in the faubourg lodgings to +which, perforce, she had to return after her +vain visit to the Frochard cellar and her +rough handling by the Carmognole rioters. +The little sparrow of a seamstress was quite +undisturbed by the great events of the +French Revolution, except as they had put +everything at sixes and sevens and whirled +away her own intimates in the mad whirligig.</p> +<p>The pock-marked man (whom she had +sheltered overnight in this very place) was +the Savior of the Country; the prying +lodger Robespierre was the Chief of State. +Of course she never saw them now, her +small self would hardly dare address them! +Sister Genevieve and the Doctor, who had +told her about the Frochards’ den, were no +longer within her ken.</p> +<p>The weary months had dragged along. +Notwithstanding the cheering message +conveyed by Picard, her knight the Chevalier––so +far as she knew––was still a prisoner +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +of Caen. And the weary months had +dragged their ball and chain of silence and +despair still more wearingly in the failure +of her many renewed attempts to find +Louise. The blind sister was again swallowed +up in the devouring city––the Frochards +were fled.</p> +<p>Whither was Henriette to look––whither +to turn?</p> +<p>A ray of light from the window glinted +on the holy Book of books that the girl +treasured. She opened it. A line read at +random comforted her. Clasping the volume +in her hands, she knelt in prayer, addressing +God softly:</p> +<p>“Thou who hast said: ‘I am the Light!’ +oh, show me the way!”</p> +<p>At the sound of a knock at the door, the +girl rose from her supplications. Entered +sad and dusty pilgrim, carrying his few belongings +in bag suspended from shoulder +stick. Now they dropped sharply to the +floor, and the disguised Chevalier gazed +long and earnestly upon his love.</p> +<p>Her eyes in turn were riveted on his sad, +lean apparition, how terribly changed from +the old debonair days! Kind sympathy +spoke in her look and mien till the radiance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +of love, beginning in little ghosts of welcoming +smiles at the corners of her mouth, +broke into clear effulgence.</p> +<p>The Chevalier tottered forward. He collapsed +into the nearest chair.</p> +<p>She put her arms around him and hovered +there, comforting him with affectionate +little hand pats and soft kisses.</p> +<p>Jacques-Forget-Not, the avenger of the +de Vaudreys, had not been far behind during +the pilgrim’s tramp across the city. He +had in fact sneaked back of him, seen the +wanderer enter Henriette’s door. Standing +at the head of the stair, he could almost +overhear stray phrases of their talk, knew +that they were quite within his power.</p> +<p>The shaggy-haired one fairly gloated in +his triumph. “Number One!” he hissed, +raising a forefinger in token that de Vaudrey––the +first of his Trinity of Hate––was +in the net. “Two and Three shall come +next!” he whispered savagely, knuckling +down two other fingers to mark his vengeance +on the Count and Countess.</p> +<p>The shaggy-haired Forget-Not hurried +down the stairs, his gaunt features baleful +with unholy glee. Pointing significantly +overhead, he ordered a detail of his guards:</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></div> +<p>“Arrest de Vaudrey and all in that +room!” The men at once proceeded to +carry out the order.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The guard captain would have been +equally at home in a pirate crew or at a land +massacre. Enormous black brows and +heavy moustache accentuated his ferocity, +the particolored Revolutionary garb and in +particular the red-and-white striped pantaloons +gave him a bizarre appearance like a +pirate chief.</p> +<p>The detail were armed with muskets and +bayonets. They clattered up the stairs and +burst into Henriette’s room.</p> +<p>The lovers seemed dazed rather than affrighted. +They clasped each other again. +With a little warning gesture Henriette +bade Maurice say nothing when the captain +addressed him as de Vaudrey.</p> +<p>The villain laid a heavy hand on his victim +while two of the soldiers seized and +pinioned his arms. “You are under arrest +as a returned emigre!” the head pirate said.</p> +<p>Then he turned his attention to Henriette +who made futile little efforts like a tiny +mother wren.</p> +<p>“You are also under arrest, Citizeness,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +said the captain harshly, “for the crime of +sheltering a returned aristocrat.”</p> +<p>“She cannot be blamed,” interrupted de +Vaudrey. “I entered this place, uninvited.”</p> +<p>“Silence!” roared the Captain. “Your +plea, if any, must be made to the Revolutionary +Tribunal.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII_BEFORE_THE_DREAD_TRIBUNAL' id='CHAPTER_XXIII_BEFORE_THE_DREAD_TRIBUNAL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<h3>BEFORE THE DREAD TRIBUNAL</h3> +</div> +<p>That awful Tribunal sat daily. During +the height of the Terror, no time was allowed +to prisoners for the preparation of +their cases––no interval elapsed between +the prisoners’ arrest and their arraignment. +Dispatch––<i>dispatch</i>––DISPATCH was the +essence of the bloody business, the purpose +being to strike terror upon all that opposed +the little fanatical minority then in power.</p> +<p>Therefore the guard brought Henriette +and Maurice directly from their arrest to +their trial, and they gazed upon a sight for +Gods and men––a travesty on the sacred +name of justice. Such scenes would seem +unbelievable to us but for the recent events +of the Russian Revolution, which prove +that in our age also a proletarian dictatorship +can be senselessly wicked and cruel.</p> +<p>The trials––beside their Terror function +of upholding a minority government––were +great public shows for the howling rabble +and leering sansculottes, the hoodlums of +Paris whom even the masters dared not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +offend. The riff-raff acted exactly as at any +of their own celebrations and feastings.</p> +<p>Along the side benches and up on the +“Mountain,” flirtation and sweethearting +went on, of a rough-and-ready order. Some +spectators coolly munched their dinners. +Others, having brought along their bottles, +indulged in drinking bouts. Everyone’s +ideas of a good time cannot be the same. +There was our eccentric acquaintance the +Jolly Baker, for instance. The height of +bliss for him, at one of these capital trials, +was to lean far, far back with open mouth +whilst a tilted bottle, held by a ministering +Hebe, spilled ecstatic drops of damp and +ruby “happiness” upon his “open-face” +physiognomy.</p> +<p>Another misfit of the grotesque crowds +was Picard, foolishly trying to discover +what ’twas all about, gazing soulful-eyed +into hoodlum “mugs” that gave him the +merry “ha! ha!” or sickened him with the +likeness of the First Murderer. But +“crime,” in one instance at least, was followed +by “punishment,” for as the murderous +citizen suddenly thrust out his roaring +raucous mouth, Picard inadvertently leaned +back.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_10' id='linki_10'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-150.jpg' alt='' title='' width='557' height='393' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +LOUISE AND LA FROCHARD TRYING TO KEEP PIERRE,<br /> +THE CRIPPLE, FROM FIGHTING HIS BROTHER JACQUES.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></div> +<p>The huge sansculotte, to his own surprise, +was eating the bushy horse-hair pigtail +of Picard’s bobbing queue! The ex-valet +made a quick duck. His murderous-looking +neighbor, with a full swing, walloped +the countenance of the sansculotte +beyond....</p> +<p>On this day of our characters’ trial, the +side benches and balconies of the great hall +quickly fill with the howling, leering mobs––the +fierce and grotesque chorus of the +grim tragedy.</p> +<p>Interspersed with the rabid Jacobins are +other––less partisan––spectators, and +among the hurrying throngs a close observer +might have noticed the luckless +Pierre Frochard and the blind girl Louise +entering. They found seats on a front +bench.</p> +<p>“The judges are taking their places now,” +said Pierre. “You will soon hear the trials. +Over on their right sits Robespierre, the +dictator of France!”</p> +<p>The judges, so-called, are five villainous +individuals, wearing dirty-looking plumed +hats, black jerkins and breeches, and tall +jack boots. The shaggy-haired Jacques-Forget-Not +presides.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></div> +<p>A frowsy public prosecutor––red, white +and blue cockade affixed to his tousled hat +plume––calls the names of the accused and +presents the charge. From the background, +the stripe-panted soldiery are bringing +the victims up.</p> +<p>“They are arraigning them in batches,” +says Pierre. “The judges make quick +work!” Louise shudders, lays hold of his +arm.</p> +<p>There is something horrible in the sound +of the advancing footsteps; the harsh accusations +and weak replies, oft drowned by +the sansculottes’ roar; the sentences of +doom, and the final scuffling of feet as the +soldiers seize their prey and bear it off.</p> +<p>Innocence and guilt often go up together.</p> +<p>Unfortunate women of the street are arraigned +next high-bred aristocrats, or +moderates whose only crime has been to +denounce such horrors. A gallant gentleman +pleads vainly to the judges who are +also the jury: “We have had no trial!” +The mob howls “Guillotine!” and “Guillotine!” +is Jacques-Forget-Not’s brief sentence !</p> +<p>A young Corsican lieutenant of artillery +looks on meditatively. His silent thought +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +is sensed by a bystander who remarks: “I +suppose, Napoleon, you think you could +manage things better!” The man grins. +But Napoleon Bonaparte––he who snuffed +out Revolution later by whiff of grapeshot––nods +gravely yes.</p> +<p>As the prisoners from the faubourg are +brought in, Henriette sees the loved and +long lost face of her dreams among the +front row of the sansculottes.</p> +<p>Stupefied, unbelieving, she looks again +and again. Yes, it is she––none other! Her +own peril and that of Maurice are unthought +of. Protective love of the blind +one tides back in resistless strength.</p> +<p>She is trying now to escape from the +guards, run to her sister––even to pantomime +her love, gesticulate it with funny +little motions and confidential fingers on +lips––forgetting that the other cannot see! +And then her wild, excited cry rings +through the great hall:</p> +<p>“LOUISE! LOUISE!”</p> +<p>Louise jumps to her feet, groping wildly +towards the cry. Her blind features are +strained in agonized expectancy. Pierre +has located the frenzied Henriette. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +guides the groping blind girl from the +benches to her sister.</p> +<p>In this council chamber of hates and +cruelty, rulers and attendants alike are +steeled against shrieks of suffering or the +outbursts of the accused. A fence of locked +bayonets stops each advancing sister. Paying +rather less heed to the incident than if +it were a request for a drink of water, the +soldiery push back Pierre and Louise to the +seats and make ready to obey the prosecutor’s +call.</p> +<p>“Citizen de Vaudrey and Henriette Girard +to the bar!”</p> +<p>The Chevalier faces the dread quintet. +The prosecutor reads the charge, demands +the death penalty on the returned aristocrat. +Poor Henriette is divided between +her frenzied wish to clasp her sister and +her horror about Maurice.</p> +<p>The young man defends himself.</p> +<p>“An emigre, yes!” he acknowledges, “but +not an enemy of the people.”</p> +<p>Many a spectator of the scenes––even the +wicked judges––could bear witness (did not +prejudice blind!) to his kindness for the afflicted +and fallen. Is there an undercurrent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +of sympathy for him even amongst hard +sansculottes?</p> +<p>But this is Jacques-Forget-Not’s great +moment.</p> +<p>Vengeance’s hour has struck.</p> +<p>The wickedness of the old de Vaudreys +is to be expiated at last!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIV_VENGEANCE_COME_TO_JUDGMENT' id='CHAPTER_XXIV_VENGEANCE_COME_TO_JUDGMENT'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<h3>VENGEANCE COME TO JUDGMENT</h3> +</div> +<p>“I myself accuse you, Citizen de Vaudrey!” +says the Judge, rising and pointing +to the culprit.</p> +<p>“I accuse your family and all aristocrats +of oppression and murder through countless +generations!”</p> +<p>A yell of approval––the savage howl of +the Mob Beast––resounds from the rabble +whose passion is played upon. It is followed +by the general roar:</p> +<p>“Guillotine! <i>Guillotine!</i> GUILLOTINE!”</p> +<p>With a smile Forget-Not records the +death sentence given by his compliant fellow +judges, in his book. Chevalier de Vaudrey +is hustled back to the rear of the hall.</p> +<p>Poor trembling Henriette is next. The +horrors of Maurice’s condemnation and the +thought of her little lost sister nearby, rack +her with a stinging pain in which is commingled +little thought of self.</p> +<p>“You sheltered this aristocrat?” questions +the Judge.</p> +<p>“Of course––I––love him!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></div> +<p>“The penalty for sheltering an emigre is +death!” replies Forget-Not shrilly, again +playing to the Jacobins.</p> +<p>But Henriette is thinking of the suffering +Louise. She strives to direct the Judge’s +attention to the blind girl.</p> +<p>“She might hear!” says Henriette softly. +“Please––not so loud!”</p> +<p>The Judge turns the pages of his book +in studied indifference.</p> +<p>“Please––my sister––we have just met +after a long time––she––she is blind!” The +little voice breaks off in sobs.</p> +<p>The idea strikes her that, if they can +only see the helpless creature, they will +have pity. She calls:</p> +<p>“Louise, stand up––they want to see +you!”</p> +<p>The cripple Pierre aids Louise to her feet. +She stands there alone, a picture of abject +misery.</p> +<p>“You see!” cries Henriette. “Blind––no +one to care for her!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The dandified dictator of France fixes +fishy eyes on the little person in the dock. +One affected hand has raised a double lorgnette +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +through which he peers at her. He +muses, strokes a long nostril with his forefinger, +recollects something which causes +him to curl his lip:</p> +<p>Henriette’s door slam on the obscure +Maximilian Robespierre finds its re-echo +to day at the gates of Death. Ah, yes, he +has placed the girl of the Faubourg lodging +now!</p> +<p>“You were an inmate of the prison for +fallen women?” he asks coldly.</p> +<p>The clear, unashamed blue eyes would +have told innocence if the words had not.</p> +<p>“Yes, Monsieur, but I was not guilty.”</p> +<p>Robespierre’s delicate hand passes in the +faintest movement across his throat and +toys with the neck ruffle underneath it.</p> +<p>His lips frame a dreadful word though he +does not speak it. A nod to Jacques-Forget-Not +completes the by-play.</p> +<p>The servant imitates the master’s gesture. +This time, the drawing of the hand +across the throat is more decisive.</p> +<p>Jacques speaks the word that his master +did not vocalize. The other judges confirm +it.</p> +<p>“GUILLOTINE!”</p> +<p>Henriette is borne shrieking out to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +death chamber––“One hour with her––only +one hour––then I will go with him!”</p> +<p>But she and the Vaudrey are already +being taken out together by the attendants.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXV_THE_VOICE_OF_DANTON' id='CHAPTER_XXV_THE_VOICE_OF_DANTON'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<h3>THE VOICE OF DANTON</h3> +</div> +<p>We have explained that Danton took little +part in the Government after the repelling +of the foreign foe and the commencement +of the Terror. He had no sympathy +with the excesses of his former colleagues, +but on the other hand was subject to +strange lassitudes or inhibitions that oft +paralyzed his spirit except at the supreme +hour.</p> +<p>Saving France had been his real job.</p> +<p>Among these petty and mean minds seeking +power or pelf or the repayment of some +ancient grudge, Danton had nothing to do! +He loved his frontier fighters––men who, +the same as himself, dared all for France.</p> +<p>They were somewhat like our cowboys +of the Western plains. Born to the saddle; +recruited for the northern cavalry; supremely +successful in whirlwind charges +and harassing flank attacks that drove back +Brunswick’s legions, they were now quartered +on well-deserved furlough within the +city.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></div> +<p>The old lion of Danton’s nature woke +again, his indomitable spirit reasserted +itself whenever he went to their yard and +roused them by his patriotic eloquence.</p> +<p>Alas! within the tribunal and on the execution +place at the other side of the city, +was that going on which shamed patriotism +and mocked liberty.</p> +<p>“La Guillotine”––that fiendish beheading +instrument that a deputy named Doctor +Guillotin had devised––was become Robespierre’s +private engine to tyrannize France.</p> +<p>It stood in a great suburban place, on a +scaffolding led up to by a flight of steps: +a tall massive upright with high cross piece––uglier +than the gallows. A brightly +gleaming, triangular knife, about the size +of a ploughshare, worked up and down in +the channels.</p> +<p>The knife was first raised to the top of the +upright, and held there by a lever. The +master of the ceremonial raised right hand +in token to the executioners to be ready.</p> +<p>As he dropped his hand in a down-sweeping +gesture, one of these villains pulled the +rope which released the lever. Down fell +the heavy knife across the neck opening of +a body board to which the victim was strapped. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +Below the contraption was a huge +basket.</p> +<p>A cordon of soldiery guarded the place, +keeping back the crowds. The brawny executioners––naked +to the waist, like butchers +in a stockyard––daily performed their +office.</p> +<p>On this day of Henriette and Maurice’s +sentence, they were giving it a preliminary +trial. “The trigger’s been slipping––not +working well,” the head fellow explained +to the master of ceremonies. Back and forth +the terrible guillotine knife hissed and +whistled until they pronounced its action +perfect....</p> +<p>Danton and three of his friends had an +errand at the Government that day that +took them past the death chamber. A little +frightened face amongst the condemned +drew his notice.</p> +<p>“Killing aristocrats, yes!” he was thinking. +“But these poor huddled folk are not +the public foe. Would I might summon the +legions to put an end to slaughter––but that +Robespierre has inflamed all France with +the lust of blood!”</p> +<p>He was startled from the reflection by +the woe-begone, distrait little thing who +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +seemed hypnotized by terror. The tall man +bent down and peered at the girl.</p> +<p>Like the other condemned, her hands had +just been pinioned behind her. She stood +forlorn and helpless.</p> +<p>Horror froze him.... The Child who had +saved his life from the spadassins––the dear +little face the memory of which he had always +treasured! He asked her a mute question, +she mutely nodded.</p> +<p>So black-hearted murder was to snuff her +out too––yes, and that young man nearby, +Maurice de Vaudrey whom he knew.</p> +<p>Not if Danton could protect and save!</p> +<p>Stern was his voice as he said to the +jailer:</p> +<p>“There is some mistake. Keep her––and +her friend––until I return!” He was on his +heel and striding to the courtroom.</p> +<p>A follower sensed his purpose. He laid +hand on Danton’s shoulder, saying: “No, +Danton––you endanger your own life!”</p> +<p>“What if I do? She must be saved.”</p> +<p>As we see him pass into the Tribunal, +let us stop for a moment and watch the procedure +in the death chamber. Outside, +the tumbrils of death clatter up to receive +their load. A functionary calls the names +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +of the condemned whilst a court officer +identifies them. Each in turn is bundled +off to the carts. The men hesitate over +Henriette and Maurice.</p> +<p>“The ex-Minister of Justice,” said one, +“asked that this case be delayed.”</p> +<p>“Her name is here,” said the master functionary, +a creature of the Dictator. “She +goes––”</p> +<p>“We might as well take the other too,” +said the court officer, pointing to de Vaudrey....</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Superbly the Lion of the Revolution +faced the judges and the mob, and demanded +a hearing. Robespierre uplifted +eyebrows and half-smiled, vulpinely. His +rapid exchange of looks with the Court +seemed to say: “Well, we have got to listen +to this crazy man, but be on guard!”</p> +<p>The president, Jacques-Forget-Not, took +the cue and acceded to Danton’s request.</p> +<p>“A great injustice has been done,” cried +Danton, “to the innocent and helpless. I ask +the lives of Henriette Girard and Citizen +de Vaudrey!”</p> +<p>The judges did not need to answer.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></div> +<p>A savage cry of “No! No!” swelled from +the infuriated “Mountain.”</p> +<p>The sansculottes half rose from their +benches, shaking minatory fists, yelling, +gesticulating. Faces were contorted in +fury. The mob––the same that had once +acclaimed Danton in chair of state––was not +to be balked of blood.</p> +<p>The orator continued: “These sufferers +are friends of you who demand their death. +The girl once saved <i>me</i>––the organizer of +your victory––from spadassins. The boy +was ever known as the people’s benefactor––I +have seen him buy loaves to keep you +from starving! Now through trumped-up +charges they are to be hurried away to +death––”</p> +<p>“You question the justice of the people’s +Tribunal?” interrupted Judge Forget-Not +shrilly, with obvious play at the mob.</p> +<p>“Hell’s bells!” replied the indignant Thunderer. +“I established this Tribunal. Did +not I as Minister of Justice set it in being, +and shall I not speak when crimes are done +in its name!”</p> +<p>... In the death chamber Henriette and +Maurice were trying to kiss each other +good-by. The guards had separated them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +Vaudrey was going in one death cart, Henriette +in another....</p> +<p>He had silenced the querulous Forget-Not, +was waking the echoes with the same +thunders that had nerved France to resist +the foe. “I ask for their lives not only, but +for MERCY and JUSTICE to wipe out the +tyranny and cruelty that are befouling all +of us. I ask for a regenerated nation, purged +of these vile offences.”</p> +<p>Robespierre was sinisterly serious now.</p> +<p>The group of judges sat amazed.</p> +<p>“Give Danton a hearing!” was the murmur +among the sansculottes, half awed by +his old witchery.</p> +<p>The impassioned orator swung upon +them, his old supporters.</p> +<p>“My heart––my brain––my soul––my +very life! Do they mean anything to you––to +France?”</p> +<p>“YES! YES!” shouted the answering +mob, caught by the personal appeal.</p> +<p>Alarmed at the swiftly changing tide, +the Chief Judge sought the Dictator’s eye. +The orator’s eyes were far away, his frame +was convulsed by emotion as he cried: “My +very life––everything––I owe to one of +these victims!” The mob identified its +cause with Danton’s, submerged their personalities +with his own!</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_11' id='linki_11'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-166.jpg' alt='' title='' width='600' height='396' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +DANTON AND MEN RIDE TO THE RESCUE PAST THE<br /> +CORRUPT AND DEGENERATE ORGY OF THE “FEAST OF REASON.”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span></div> +<p>Robespierre answered Forget-Not’s look. +He indicated the speaker by a slight motion +of the head, then drew his right hand across +the throat, played with the lace ruffles––and +smiled! Forget-Not understood. Not +then––but later, only a little later––would +come the time to snuff out this disturber!</p> +<p>Danton turned from the mob, swinging +the peroration to the judges in the one impassioned +cry of “JUSTICE!” Lion-like he +glanced from those mean, denying souls +to the rabble, and held out his hands.</p> +<p>Like an avalanche, the “Mountain” swept +down from benches to hall and on, on toward +the judges. Murder was in their eyes. +A word from the Thunderer would have +sealed Forget-Not’s fate.</p> +<p>“His wish! Give Danton his wish!” they +roared.</p> +<p>Like a monkey the man Forget-Not +leaped and cowered behind his bar, imploring +Robespierre for a sign. The Dictator +nodded to yield. But again was there not +the very slightest motion of hand past neck, +the eyes side-glancing at the Thunderer?</p> +<p>Danton stilled the tempest as Chief Judge +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +Forget-Not wrote the reprieve and the +other affrighted Judges confirmed it.</p> +<p>... Outside, the tumbrils were already +on their way to the guillotine. Henrietta +and de Vaudrey were approaching the +gates of death....</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVI_REPRIEVE_OR_AGONY' id='CHAPTER_XXVI_REPRIEVE_OR_AGONY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<h3>REPRIEVE OR AGONY</h3> +</div> +<p>The man Forget-not, directly the paper +was signed, rushed past the speaker and +out of the hall into the lobbies. He was +followed presently by the Court’s messenger. +There was here some trickery or +other that Danton sensed.</p> +<p>He could not stop the Chief Judge leaving, +but he pounced on the messenger and +yanked the reprieve out of his hand. “I +will deliver it!” said Danton. The people +applauded the act. Everyone knew that +he dared greatly.</p> +<p>Quick as he had been, Jacques-Forget-Not +had already given his orders.</p> +<p>“Stop Danton if you can!” had been +Jacques’ word to the outer guard. To his +inspectors of defences, he had said: “The +barriers to the guillotine––close them!” +He ran forth to see that the orders were +obeyed. None of Robespierre’s party +wanted to see Danton achieve his errand +of mercy––least of all, the vengeful Jacques-Forget-Not!....</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></div> +<p>The pock-marked Thunderer wasn’t +stopped beyond the door. His giant +strength threw off the minions who would +have blocked him. He hastened to the +yard where his beloved troopers were +quartered.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Henriette and Maurice’s route lay past +an obscene and sacrilegious rite.</p> +<p>Mocking at religion, the more fanatical +had thrown off every vestige of decency +and indulged in Bacchanalian worship of +a so-called “Goddess of Reason.” This +was a lewd female from the Paris half-world, +flower-chapleted, flimsily draped, +prancing in drunken frenzy atop a table +surrounded by her “worshippers.”</p> +<p>The Feast of Reason included hundreds +of revelers grouped around the open-air +tables for the “supper of Liberty, Equality +and Fraternity,” and between long lines +of these they were obliged to pass.</p> +<p>“Drink a toast to the Goddess!” cried +the revelers, offering the winecup to the +victims.</p> +<p>“Curses on them!” said others. “Death +is too good for vile aristocrats.”</p> +<p>“Tra-la-la-la!” sang drunken wenches, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +“La Guillotine will soon hold ye in her +sharp embrace––”</p> +<p>The blasphemy of burlesquing a far +greater Scene of Sorrows occurred to +drunken Carmagnole dancers. The notion +was applauded, carried into effect at once.</p> +<p>A tall sansculotte reached over betwixt +the guards and placed a Crown of Thorns +on the girl’s brow. Another dashed a cupful +of vinegar in the girl’s face.</p> +<p>“Can’t you see she’s helpless?” said a +centurion, pointing to her pinioned arms. +He yanked off the chaplet and threw it +back in the crowd. They roared with +merriment at the farce....</p> +<p>But, in the stable yard of the Northern +cavalry, Danton from a horseblock was +addressing the fiery spirits who knew and +loved him.</p> +<p>“Will you dare with Danton?” he cried. +“Will you risk Death to open a Nation’s +eyes?”</p> +<p>The head Cavalryman embraced the +Thunderer and kissed him on both cheeks.</p> +<p>“We are with you to the last man––to +the last ounce of our strength to save this +girl and boy!” he said while the others +cheered.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></div> +<p>Danton had got a gallant white mount, +the Captain was on a noble black Arabian +charger; the others had leaped astride their +ever ready army steeds––the ride with the +reprieve was in full course!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVII_THE_FAREWELL' id='CHAPTER_XXVII_THE_FAREWELL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<h3>THE FAREWELL</h3> +</div> +<p>Louise, guided by her faithful attendant +Pierre, had left the courtroom directly +after the condemnation. Leaning heavily +upon him, the blind girl had staggered out, +or pressed by the awful knowledge that her +sister Henriette was doomed to die. “Oh, +take me to her!” she had cried.</p> +<p>There was only one thing to do: to follow +the route of the death tumbrils, in the +slight hope of overtaking her. The crippled +Pierre could not walk fast, and the steps +of Louise had to be most carefully directed. +Now and again Pierre could see the death +carts a long way ahead, he tried to hasten +their steps, but presently the transports +of death were out of sight again.</p> +<p>A traffic tie-up and street delay that +halted the tumbrils just beyond the scene +of the bacchanalian Feast of Reason, gave +them their opportunity. Here the revelers +had burlesqued Henriette as the “Woman +of Sorrows,” and here the guardsman had +thrown off the chaplet and rebuked the +crowd.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></div> +<p>During the halt Pierre and his companion +came up with what speed they could; he +led Louise to the back of the death cart, +and placed her hands on the bound and +standing figure of poor little Henriette.</p> +<p>“It is your sister!” said Pierre softly.</p> +<p>Gently the blind girl’s fingers traveled +up to the wet face of her little foster-mother, +now bending towards her. With +a handkerchief Louise tenderly wiped it, +her fingers gave loving little pats of the +heaving neck and bosom, she kissed the +stained cheeks, and then the girls’ lips met––met +long and passionately! No words +were spoken, none was needed for a reunion +that was also a farewell.</p> +<p>The cart moved. The loving lips were +parted. Now one might see Louise’s imploring +arms still held out toward the sad +receding little figure.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>It was indeed a busy day for the executioners. +Batches of men and women preceded +Henriette and Maurice. Two of +these were beautiful young girls who, in +default of priest, were saying the last offices +of the Church as they knelt on the +bare ground. In tragic glory Faith’s clear +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +credo rang out: “<i>I am the Resurrection and +the Life; he that believeth in me, though he +were dead, yet shall he live!</i>”</p> +<p>Their lovely heads dropped in the basket +as the knitting women clicked their needles +and cried “Two!” Henriette, with a physical +retch at the sight, fell back half-fainting +on Maurice. Roughly the soldiers +yanked them asunder.</p> +<p>“Citizeness, your time is come!” said +one of the brawny butchers. He half led, +half supported her up the steps of the +guillotine....</p> +<p>The Chief executioner turned Henriette +about, inspecting her fine points as an +equine connoisseur would inspect a filly. +He gloated over her not yet budded form, +the swan-like neck, unlined piquant features, +the golden head-curls that fell in +ringlets.</p> +<p>“A pretty one––eh, Jean?” he commented +to his assistant.</p> +<p>Between the two, they had strapped her +unresisting on the board. They lowered +it below the razor edge of the knife, so +that she lay prone with her neck directly +underneath. The finale was to fasten on +the neck piece, a round-holed cross board +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +which prevented the head from drawing +back....</p> +<p>Alas! what avails it that five miles away––in +the heart of the city––the hoofbeats of +a company of cavalry resound rhythmically +over the flagstones?</p> +<p>Danton and his Northern riders are +straining every nerve, galloping their steeds +furiously––eyes fixed on the seeming-impossible +goal. Rather are they modern +centaurs, each rider and steed a unit of +undivisible will and energy: Danton a +furious resistless hippogriff, fire-striking, +fire-exhaling, in unity with his white +charger; the lean-jawed, sternly set Captain +on his lean galloping Arabian, cyclonic, +onrushing like some Spectral Horseman; +the rest riding like the Valkyries––as it +were, twixt Heaven and earth––their galloping +beats scorning the ground as they +rush by to the hissing of the cleaved and +angry winds.</p> +<p>But what avails it?...</p> +<p>Even on the straightway ’twere a quarter-hour +ride to the outer-suburban locality +where the guillotine does its dreadful +work. Ancient Paris with its tortuous +streets delays them. Ahead, are Jacques-Forget-Not––Jacobin +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +troops––barriers––gates.</p> +<p>Poor little Henriette’s golden head!</p> +<p>Is it not fated to drop in the basket long, +long before they can appear?</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVIII_MANIAC_WITH_A_DAGGER' id='CHAPTER_XXVIII_MANIAC_WITH_A_DAGGER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<h3>MANIAC WITH A DAGGER</h3> +</div> +<p>A sansculotte soldier, less brutal than +his fellows, had allowed Louise and Pierre +to approach one side of the scaffold. They +were more privileged than the frantic +Picard, who could not get near his young +master and mistress. Revolutionary infantry +guarded every side of the public +square. Intermingled among them were +the favored hoodlums of the Jacobin party, +execrating the victims and howling with +glee whenever the dread axe fell.</p> +<p>Among the riff-raff, Mere Frochard and +her precious son Jacques Frochard were +conspicuous. For no particular reason +they were gloating over the cutting-off of +aristocrats, whilst indulging in rough +horseplay at the expense of the friends +of the condemned. Picard’s quaint look of +helpless sympathy excited ready mirth.</p> +<p>“Sniveling over those good-for-nothings, +eh?” La Frochard curled her heavy +moustachioed lip in scorn.</p> +<p>“We’ll find a way to make that sensitive +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +young man feel something––” she confided +to Jacques. A moment later she had pulled +over a sansculotte’s bayonet, with which +she executed a neat jab into Picard’s anatomy.</p> +<p>Picard leaped in the air like a jumping +jack. When he descended to earth and +turned to survey the cause of his torment, +he faced but an impassive trooper with +weapon at parade rest and the grinning +countenances of Mere and Jacques Frochard, +convulsed with laughter.</p> +<p>Picard decided the vicinity of the guillotine +was almost as dangerous for him as +for his master. He edged out of range, +biding the occasion for a counter-thrust....</p> +<p>Pierre and Louise stood on the other side +of the scaffold, the heavy structure of +which quite hid the ruffian Frochards and +their horseplay with Picard.</p> +<p>Henriette had been borne up the steps +of the guillotine a few moments before +Pierre and Louise reached the scene. The +cripple, terribly excited, was telling Louise +of Henriette’s being strapped to the board +and shoved toward the knife vent.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></div> +<p>“That big murderer is going to kill +her!” hissed Pierre.</p> +<p>Louise’s blind features became contorted +with agony. Large tear drops fell +from her eyes. Both arms were extended +toward her sister above, then clawed convulsively +at Pierre.</p> +<p>“They-have-put-her-head-in-the +crossboard-and––oh, oh!––fastened-it-down!</p> +<p>“The-executioner-is-all-ready.” Pierre +was gesticulating like a madman. He +seemed to be raising despairing hands to +high Heaven, in token of helplessness.</p> +<p>Above––around––everywhere, he looked +for succor; found none. A glance from +Henriette’s doomed form to Louise’s bitter +anguish converts him into a maniac.</p> +<p>“HE’S ASKING THE MASTER FOR +THE SIGNAL TO PULL THE ROPE!”</p> +<p>Pierre shouts the words in a fury that +is rapidly growing uncontrollable. Spectators +for the first time notice his strange +actions. But neither the expectant executioner +nor the self-important master of +ceremonial looks down, or distinguishes the +cry in the babel of savage sounds.</p> +<p>The wild youth now disengages himself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +from Louise’s clutch. With his right hand +he pulls a dagger from his hip pocket. +Look! As the master’s signalling hand is +upraised high and begins to lower, the boy +leaps up the steps of the guillotine, and +attacks the executioner whose fingers are +already on the death rope....</p> +<p>Ride on yet more fiercely, O Danton +and ye fierce Cavalrymen––ride on, e’en +past the barrier, if Jacques-Forget-Not and +his men do not stay thee. Yes, thank God! +there may yet be time, should this maniac +with the dagger provide sufficient respite!</p> +<p>... The brawny butcher is too astonished +to defend himself. His nerveless +fingers are no longer on the rope; he +stands like a stalled ox in front of his homicidal +assailant. With the rapidity of +lightning Pierre plunges his long Provencal +dirk in the executioner’s side. The +butchered butcher falls with a single bawling +outcry and a groan. The crowd is +thunderstruck, and the pinioned de Vaudrey +is wild with joy. Though bound and +helpless, he tries to leap up to his prostrate +Henriette.</p> +<p>But the master of ceremonial, at first too +panic-stricken to intervene, now summons +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +the sansculotte guards from the ground below. +Up the steps on the double-quick +they rush with fixed bayonets. As the +huge victim falls back into the arms of his +assistant, the bayoneting soldiers corner the +dirk-waving Pierre.</p> +<p>The brief contest is quite unequal. In +less time than it takes to tell it, one of the +men plunges his bright, long steel in +Pierre’s side. The latter falls like a lump +of clay on the scaffold flooring. Several +of the bayonets speed toward the inert +lump, with the intent on the part of their +owners to fling the body contemptuously +from the scaffold to the floor.</p> +<p>But a more refined cruelty speaks: “Save +him for the guillotine!” The soldiers +leave the crumpled-up, desperately wounded +Pierre, dooming him yet to taste La Guillotine’s +embrace. They subdue de Vaudrey +and truss him up anew.</p> +<p>The roars of the crowd die down. Comparative +order is again restored. The +master of ceremonial, having recovered +the habit of command, orders Jean, the +remaining executioner, to complete the +stricken one’s job.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_12' id='linki_12'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-182.jpg' alt='' title='' width='396' height='597' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +HENRIETTE SAVED FROM THE GUILLOTINE’S KNIFE.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></div> +<p>Fortunately for our heroine under the +knife, the second executioner is slow and +awkward. He has seen butchery come +quite too close to his own flesh! Still +somewhat unnerved, he prepares himself +for the task with clumsy movements and +halting fingers. The master bids him +hurry––Jean takes his time, he’s not going +to bungle the job....</p> +<p>As the supreme moment nears, it is well +that we should note what is happening with +Danton and his Centaurs––</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIX_DANTONS_RIDERS' id='CHAPTER_XXIX_DANTONS_RIDERS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<h3>DANTON’S RIDERS</h3> +</div> +<p>About half way of the journey through +the City, Jacques-Forget-Not and his men +take up a stand in front of the onrushing +cavalry.</p> +<p>They wave orders and prohibitions.</p> +<p>They yell to the horsemen to draw rein.</p> +<p>Resistlessly the troopers keep their careering +course––the talk and gestures are +but as the East Wind to tensed Danton, +stern-set Captain, and the rest.</p> +<p>Forget-Not’s tribe escape the deadly +horse hoofs by quick side jumps.</p> +<p>Within the next few minutes––even +while the head executioner is making the +little victim ready––Danton and his riders +reach the barrier on the Guillotine side of +Paris. Orders had already been received +to close the gates at the cavalry’s approach.</p> +<p>“Quick! there is not a moment to lose,” +yells the Jacobin commander as he sights +the oncoming host. He hastens to deploy +his soldiers with spears and pikes across +the barrier, whilst the keepers bring the +heavy gates to.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></div> +<p>The barred gates and the opposing +fighters threaten to dash Danton’s every +hope of saving by reprieve his “dear one +of treasured memory.” Indeed, as we +have seen, but for frenzied Pierre’s maniacal +slaughter of the headsman, the fatal +blow would now be falling! Neither Danton +nor his men, of course, know that. Theirs +to struggle on, to confront and conquer +fortune, never to despair! Within those +iron souls is no such thought as “Defeat.”</p> +<p>Hurrah!</p> +<p>One foremost rider has managed to +squeeze through the mighty gates before +they clang. Danton and the rest of his +men face a small army on the closed barrier’s +City side.</p> +<p>The superb horses would charge against +a stone wall if bade to! They charge +against the living wall of foot soldiers; +kicking, pounding, trampling in the narrow +space, while the riders strike.</p> +<p>Some footmen perish under the hoofs. +Others save themselves by leaping, scrambling +out over the side parapets. The attack +becomes a rout. Hip-hip-hurrah! The +lone rider on the guillotine side has succeeded +in unloosing the bar. The gates +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +fly open. Danton’s cavalry dash madly +down the straight and unobstructed road +that leads to the Place de la Execution, +still a few furlongs distant!</p> +<p>Can they even yet save her? For now it +would appear as if the supremely tragical +moment might anticipate them––by +seconds!</p> +<p>During the final furlongs––the executioner +now in readiness––Henriette looks +up with gaping mouth at the awful knife +edge. A terrible cry escapes her. Wracked +with agony, she gazes about at the sea of +hostile faces––not one stray iota of sympathy +in that Dark Hour. Missing is de +Vaudrey, missing the loved blind sister! +As the down-dropping gesture of Death is +again begun by the grim master of ceremonial, +Henriette with a low cry of +“Louise!” shuts eyes and drops head to +receive the stroke!</p> +<p>But the clatter of myriad hoofbeats assails +the Master’s ears; the hoarse cries of +Danton’s riders, and the astonished roars +of the populace. His hand falters. He +turns to look at the tumult. The executioner +takes his hand off the rope.</p> +<p>The cavalrymen are dashing down the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +roadway, from which quick clearance has +been made by the sansculotte guards and +the loaferish spectators. At their head +gallops Danton, the Thunderer of old, +thundering at the officials, waving in his +free hand a State paper!</p> +<p>In front of the death machine he halts +and dismounts––then taking the steps in +two bounds, puts the reprieve of Henriette +and Maurice in the hands of the master of +ceremonial!</p> +<p>The Savior of France––the Organizer of +Victory––brings such a show of power at +his back and compels such respect that +none dare question him. He strides to the +guillotine, bades the trembling executioner +release Henriette––himself personally unstraps +her from the death board. So ensues +a scene that would wring even a heart +of stone: the delivery of a demented girl +from Death’s very passion and utmost +pang!</p> +<p>Danton takes the little form in his arms, +looks in her eyes, kisses her and tries to +make her understand.</p> +<p>“For the honor of France,” he cries to +the assembled multitude, as he still upholds +her swaying figure, “a monstrous +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +injustice is righted. This girl, and that young +patriot,” signifying to the attendants that +de Vaudrey should be unloosed, “are reprieved +by the order of the Revolutionary +Tribunal!” The multitude––caught by +Danton’s tensely dramatic announcement––applauds, +even as it had jeered and mocked +a few moments since.</p> +<p>But the girl, kept from falling by his protective +left arm, still gazes upon him idiotically. +She had died, was it not true ? How +then, she lives? What are these crowds, +and who is this stranger? The gallant +rescuer fears that her reason is gone!</p> +<p>“Release that boy!”</p> +<p>He has seen the wounded Pierre trussed +in the far corner of the scaffold, guessed +that some wild deed of the lad’s stayed the +judicial murder. His tones to the officials +are sharp, imperative. The outraged superior +of the hacked executioner looks +around the assemblage for some prop of +resistance––finds none––trembles––and is +all bows and scrapes to do Danton’s will. +Pierre crawls painfully across the platform. +He kisses the hem of his Savior’s garment.</p> +<p>Danton has brought Henriette to the +ground. He is looking for her friends now. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +Catching sight of blind Louise starting up +the steps, he brings her around and puts the +loved sisters in front of one another.... +Slowly the light of understanding comes +into the eyes of her who had most loved +and most suffered. She embraces Louise.... +Danton is looking for yet another +figure, the affianced of Henriette. He +draws over de Vaudrey, places the latter’s +right hand within the free hand of +Henriette.</p> +<p>“Take her,” he says kindly to de Vaudrey. +“It is enough for me that I have saved +France from this foul blot!...”</p> +<p>... Down in the crowd, too, the fortunes +of war have changed. The wicked +Frochards, who have been egging on the +crowds to jeer the victims, have become +distinctly unpopular. It is Picard’s turn to +jest the Frochards now.</p> +<p>A grenadier offers a little friendly assistance +with the bayonet, pricking the old +hag in a tender part as if by accident. +She jumps and squeals. Sly Picard watches +another chance, shoves forward his friend’s +bayonet to prick her again.</p> +<p>... Both she and her precious Jacques +the Good-for-Nothing take it on the run, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +enduring the buffets of the railing soldiery. +Yes, Picard––our genial rogue of a body +servant––gets in the last bayonet pricks and +body wallops of this story!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXX_THE_AFTERMATH' id='CHAPTER_XXX_THE_AFTERMATH'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<h3>THE AFTERMATH</h3> +</div> +<p>Danton later suffered the dark hour and +the snapping of Life’s thread through +Robespierre’s cruelty, but the glory of that +valiant soul is eternal.</p> +<p>His plea for the ways of Mercy––his gallant +deeds (like this particular one) of risking +all for the life of a friend––were as +signposts to bewildered humanity. He +foresaw the precipice down which the Terrorists +were headed for the pit:</p> +<p>“This time twelvemonth I was moving +the creation of that same Revolutionary +Tribunal. I crave pardon for it of God and +man. They are all Brothers Cain––I leave +the whole business in a frightful welter. +Robespierre will follow me; I drag down +Robespierre!”</p> +<p>Of a verity, the following Thermidor or +hot July saw the fate come true. Universally +execrated, the Tyrant was himself +dragged down and guillotined. Fell with +him the rest of the murdering crew. Black +hatred––foul suspicion––wicked vengeance +vanished like departing plagues.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span></div> +<p>There dawned happier days wherein justice +bore sway, and little gardens of flowers +and love and happiness again sprang up +and flourished. Among these blooming +gardens let us seek the refuge of Count and +Countess de Linieres after the Storm has +abated and the kinsfolk it has sundered are +united. The sisters of our story are their +especial care, daughter and foster-daughter +of the exquisite chatelaine.</p> +<p>Young Maurice de Vaudrey is their pride. +The old gentleman has reconciled himself +to the passing of the Ancient Regime, and +through his nephew’s good office has made +his peace with the State.</p> +<p>On a bright and beautiful day as Henriette +is flitting about the garden, the +Doctor––none other than our old friend of +La Force––comes with a precious gift.</p> +<p>“The removal of the cataract has been +successful,” he says, presenting Louise. “Is +it not a joy that she can see?”</p> +<p>The girls intertwine arms and laugh happily. +The parents approach. Henriette +and Louise embrace the Count, now their +foster parent and protector. Back of the +Count limps the devoted Pierre, now fully +restored from his old hurt of the bayonet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +thrust. Pierre is to be the Countess’s +especial care.</p> +<p>That lovely lady has received her daughter +Louise within her arms, a daughter who +for the first time can look upon the mother +of whose loving care she was deprived for +a score of years. In a few moments Henriette +summons her sister to her side as a +young man, whom we should all recognize, +joins the little company.</p> +<p>“Allow me to present to your new eyes +Monsieur Maurice de Vaudrey––” then +with a shy smile and a glance back and +forth, Henriette adds:</p> +<p>“<i>Do you approve of him?</i>”</p> +<p>Recurs the memory of that almost forgotten +incident in the Normandy home––Henriette’s +promise to stay single till the +blind sister should win sight and approve +the suitor. Louise is so happy that she decides +to tease. She is about to shake her +small head and her lips to frame “NO!” +But in another moment she uses her new +gift to inspect the marvelous young man of +whose perfections she had so often heard.</p> +<p>She looks at Maurice from top to toe; +the shapely head covered with luxuriant +locks, the fine brown eyes, the Apollo features +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +comely yet sensitive, the elegant form, +small hands and feet, the graceful and +chivalrous carriage––the MAN who is +looking at her with a kindly affectionate +smile. Really, Henriette hadn’t told her +half enough! She clasps her sister with +one hand, Maurice with the other, cries: +“YES!”</p> +<p>We may leave our hero and heroine +there––as Louise and the oldsters presently +left them––to taste the exquisite happiness +of mutual love. For Love is stronger than +Death, and must prevail. And the kisses +of Maurice and Henriette blotted out all +the wrack and nightmare of the “Orphans +of the Storm!”</p> +<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:2em;'>THE END</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad1.png' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad2.png' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad3.png' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad4.png' /> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: 3.17 --> +<!-- timestamp: Tue Oct 20 06:50:06 -0600 2009 --> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30300 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-022.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-022.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..65d4145 --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-022.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-038.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-038.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5473f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-038.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-054.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-054.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..67451e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-054.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-070.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-070.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b375d7b --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-070.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-086.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-086.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d99467 --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-086.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-102.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-102.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bdb521e --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-102.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-118.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-118.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d296c6b --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-118.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-134.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-134.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb881e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-134.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-150.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-150.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cbc7455 --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-150.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-166.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-166.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..488939d --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-166.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-182.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-182.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8da5cfc --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-182.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-ad1.png b/30300-h/images/illus-ad1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..75e34fc --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-ad1.png diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-ad2.png b/30300-h/images/illus-ad2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d35ec89 --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-ad2.png diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-ad3.png b/30300-h/images/illus-ad3.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b13d3d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-ad3.png diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-ad4.png b/30300-h/images/illus-ad4.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..38c4d2c --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-ad4.png diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-bcf.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-bcf.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b99874 --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-bcf.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-emb.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-emb.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0cfdebc --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-emb.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-fcf.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-fcf.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..be77dea --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-fcf.jpg diff --git a/30300-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg b/30300-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1b177f --- /dev/null +++ b/30300-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg |
