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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE ADVENTURES OF FRANÇOIS</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Adventures of François" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="S. Weir Mitchell" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1898" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="43241" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-07-17" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Adventures of François Foundling, Thief, Juggler, and Fencing-Master during the French Revolution" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Adventures of François Foundling, Thief, Juggler, and Fencing-Master during the French Revolution" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="francois.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-07-18T04:02:49.297251+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43241" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="S. Weir Mitchell" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-07-17" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-adventures-of-francois"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE ADVENTURES OF FRANÇOIS</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Adventures of François -<br /> Foundling, Thief, Juggler, and Fencing-Master during the French -<br /> Revolution -<br /> -<br />Author: S. Weir Mitchell -<br /> -<br />Release Date: July 17, 2013 [EBook #43241] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE ADVENTURES OF FRANÇOIS</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 59%" id="figure-136"> -<span id="the-nets-were-hung-over-francois-s-shoulders"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""THE NETS WERE HUNG OVER FRANÇOIS'S SHOULDERS."" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"THE NETS WERE HUNG OVER FRANÇOIS'S SHOULDERS." (See page </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#id1">18</a><span class="italics">.)</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">The Adventures of -<br />François</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">Foundling, Thief, Juggler, and Fencing-Master -<br />during the French Revolution</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">By</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">S. Weir Mitchell, M.D.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">LL.D. Harvard and Edinburgh</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">New York -<br />The Century Co. -<br />1898</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright, 1897, 1898, by -<br />THE CENTURY Co.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">THE DE VINNE PRESS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO -<br />PHILIP SCHUYLER</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">IN RECOGNITION OF -<br />A CONSTANT FRIENDSHIP</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#i">I</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Of how François the foundling was cared for by the good -fathers of the Benedictine Asylum for Orphans, and of -what manner of lad he was</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#ii">II</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">In which François becomes a choir-boy, and serves two -masters, to the impairment of his moral sense</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#iii">III</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Of the misfortunes caused by loss of a voice, and of how a -cat and a damsel got François into trouble—whereupon, -preferring the world to a monastery, he ran away from -the choristers of Notre Dame</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#iv">IV</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Of how the world used François, and of the reward of virtue. -He makes his first friend</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#v">V</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Of the immorality which may come of an empty stomach, -and of how François became acquainted with a human -crab</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#vi">VI</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Of how François regained a lost friend, and of his adventure -with the poet Horace and another gentleman</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#vii">VII</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Wherein is told how François saved a man's neck and -learned to juggle</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#viii">VIII</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">In which François discovers the mercantile value of -laughter, and the Crab takes toll of the jugglers—with -the sad history of Despard, the partner</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#ix">IX</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">In which François tells the fortune of the Marquis de -Ste. Luce and of Robespierre, and has his own fortune told, -and of how Despard saw a man of whom he was afraid</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#x">X</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">How Pierre became a Jacobin and how a nation became insane</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xi">XI</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">The juggling firm of Despard, François & Co. is broken -up—Despard goes into politics, and François becomes a -fencing-master</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xii">XII</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">In which Toto is seen to change his politics twice a day—the -mornings and the afternoons quarrel—In which Jean -Pierre André Amar, "</span><em class="italics small">le farouche,</em><span class="small">" appears</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xiii">XIII</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Citizen Amar, meeting the marquis, is unlucky and vindictive</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xiv">XIV</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">François escapes from Paris and goes in search of a father. -He meets a man who has a wart on his nose, and who -because of this is unlucky</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xv">XV</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">How François finds Despard and has a lesson in politics, -and of what came of it</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xvi">XVI</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">How François warns the Marquis de Ste. Luce, and of the -battle on the staircase between the old day and the new</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xvii">XVII</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Of how François, escaping, lives in the wood; of how he -sees the daughter of the marquis dying, and knows not -then, or ever after, what it was that hurt him; of how he -becomes homesick for Paris</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xviii">XVIII</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Wherein is told how François reënters Paris, and lodges -with the Crab; and of how Toto is near to death by the -guillotine. François meets Despard and the marquis, -who warns him and is warned</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xix">XIX</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Of the sorrowful life of loneliness, of François's arrest, and -of those he met in prison</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xx">XX</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Of how François gave Amar advice, and of how the marquis -bought his own head</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xxi">XXI</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">How François, having made a bargain with Citizen Amar, -cannot keep it with the man of the wart—How Despard -dies in the place of the marquis—Of François's escape -from prison</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xxii">XXII</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Wherein is told how François baits a crab-trap with the -man of the wart</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xxiii">XXIII</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Of how François found lodgings where he paid no rent—Of -the death of Toto—Of how his master, having no -friends on the earth, finds them underground</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#xxiv">XXIV</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Of how François got into good society underground—Of -what he saw, and of the value of a cat's eyes—From -darkness to light—Of how François made friends for life</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><a class="bold reference internal" href="#epilogue">EPILOGUE</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">Wherein is some further account of François and of those -who helped him</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-nets-were-hung-over-francois-s-shoulders">The Nets were Hung over François's Shoulders</a><span> . . . . . . </span><em class="italics">Frontispiece</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#francois-and-toto-in-the-luxembourg">François and Toto in the Luxembourg</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#pierre-taught-francois-to-juggle-with-balls">Pierre taught François to Juggle with Balls</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#t-is-a-gargoyle-come-down-from-the-roof-of-st-jacques">'T is a Gargoyle Come Down from the Roof of St. Jacques</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#he-paid-in-advance-the-customary-denier-a-dieu">He Paid in Advance the Customary Denier à Dieu</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#and-so-a-dog-is-sent-to-fetch-the-safeguard-the-people-provide">And so a Dog is Sent to Fetch the Safeguard the People Provide</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#he-staggered-to-left-to-right-and-at-last-tumbled-in-a-heap">He Staggered to Left, to Right, and at last Tumbled in a Heap</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#he-held-his-way-along-the-highroad">He Held his Way along the Highroad</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-wanderer-tapped-on-the-pane">The Wanderer Tapped on the Pane</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#he-saw-a-white-face-on-the-pillow">He Saw a White Face on the Pillow</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#quatre-pattes">Quatre Pattes</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#death-to-royal-rats">Death to Royal Rats!</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#amar-considered-this-novel-specimen-of-humanity">Amar Considered this Novel Specimen of Humanity</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#he-pulled-the-bell-at-no-33-bis">He Pulled the Bell at No. 33 Bis</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-little-trap-did-work-cried-francois-behind-his-screen">"The Little Trap did Work," cried François, behind his Screen</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i"><span class="bold x-large">THE ADVENTURES OF FRANÇOIS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">FOUNDLING, THIEF, JUGGLER, AND FENCING-MASTER -<br />DURING THE FRENCH REVOLUTION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Of how François the foundling was cared for by the -good fathers of the Benedictine Asylum for Orphans, -and of what manner of lad he was.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In the summer of the year 1777 a lad of -about ten years, clad in a suit of gray, -was playing in the high-walled garden of -the Benedictine Asylum for Orphans in -Paris. The sun was pleasant, the birds -sang overhead, the roses were many, for the month -was June. A hundred lads were noisily running -about. They had the look of being well fed, decently -clothed, and kindly cared for. An old priest walked -to and fro, at times looking up from his breviary to -say a pleasant word or to check some threatening -quarrel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently he paused beside the boy who was at the -moment intently watching a bird on a branch -overhead. As the priest turned, the boy had thrown -himself on the grass and was laughing heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What amuses thee, my son?" said the father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am laughing at the birds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why do they make thee laugh, François!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I," said the priest, "do not know why the -birds sing, nor why thou dost laugh. Thou hast a -talent that way. The good God grant thee always -cause"; and with his eyes on his breviary, and his -lips moving in prayer, he walked away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lad fell back again on the grass, and laughed -anew, as if overcome with some jest he shared with -no one but the birds overhead. This was a kindly -little waif brought hither from the Enfants Trouvés, -nameless except for the card pinned on the basket -in which he lay when the unknown mother left him, -a red-faced baby, to the charity of asylum life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His constant mirthfulness was a sad cross to some -of the good fathers, for neither punishment, fast, nor -penance got the better of this gaiety, nor served to -repress its instinctive expression. He had, too,—what -is rare in childhood,—quick powers of observation, -and a certain joy in the world of nature, -liking to lie on his back and watch the birds at work, -or pleased to note the daily changes of flowers or the -puzzling journeys of the ants which had their crowded -homes beneath the lilacs in undisturbed corners of -the garden. His nearest mother, Nature, meant the -boy to be one of those rare beings who find -happiness in the use of keen senses and in a wakeful -mind, which might have been trained to employ its -powers for the partial conquest of some of her many -kingdoms. But no friendly hand was here to guide, -no example present to incite or lift him. The simple -diet provided for the intellect of these little ones was -like the diet of their table—the same for one and -for all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His head was high, his face long; all his features -were of unusual size, the mouth and ears of -disproportionate magnitude; altogether, a quaint face, not -quite of to-day, a something Gothic and medieval in -its general expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dull round of matins and vespers, the routine -of lessons, the silent refectory meals, went on year -after year with little variation. The boy François -simply accepted them as did the rest; but, unlike -some of his comrades, he found food for mirth, silent, -gentle, or boisterous, where no other saw cause for -amusement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once a week a sober line of gray-clad boys, with -here and there a watchful priest, filed through the -gay streets to mass at St. Eustache or Notre Dame. -He learned, as he grew, to value these chances, and -to look forward with eager anticipation to what they -brought him. During these walks the quick-minded -François saw and heard a hundred things which -aroused his curiosity. The broad gardens of the -Luxembourg, the young fellows at unrestricted play, the -river and the boats, by degrees filled him with keen -desire to see more of this outer world, and to have -easy freedom to roam at will. It was the first flutter -of wings longing for natural flight. Before they set -out on these journeys, a good father at the great -gateway said to them as they went by: "Look neither -to the right nor to the left, my children. 'T is a day -of prayer. Remember!" Alas! what eyes so busy -as those of François? "Look at this—at that," he -would cry to the lads close to him. "Be quiet, there!" -said the priests' low voices; and on this Francis's -droll face would begin to express the unspoken -delight he found in the outer world of men and things. -This naughty outside world kept calling him to share -its liberty. The boy liked best the choir, where his -was the most promising voice. Here was happiness -such as the use of dexterous hands or observant eyes -also gave him. Religion was to him largely a matter -of formal service. But in this, as in secular -education, the individuality of the creature may not be set -aside without risk of disaster. For all alike there -was the same dull round, the same instruction. -Nevertheless, the vast influence of these repeated -services, and of the constant catechism, he continued -to feel to his latest day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was emotional and imaginative, fond of color, -and sensitive to music; but the higher lessons of the -church, which should control the life of action, were -without effect on a character which was naturally one -of exceptional levity. Such a mind has small power -to apply to the conduct of life the mere rules laid -down for its guidance, and is apt to accept as -personally useful only what comes from the lessons of -experience.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ii"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">In which François becomes a choir-boy, and serves two -masters, to the impairment of his moral sense.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He was about fourteen, and the best of -the choir, when a great change took -place in his life. He was sent, with -a dozen others, to the vestry of Notre -Dame, and there carefully tested as to -the power and quality of his voice. The masters of -the choir were exacting, but, to his great delight, he -was thought the best of the four who were finally -selected to fill vacancies among the boy choristers of -the cathedral. This came about in the autumn of -the year 1781.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day he received a long lecture on how he -should behave himself; and thus morally provided, -was sent, with his small belongings in a bag, to the -house of certain of the choir-masters who lived in the -Rue des Chanteurs. One of the priests who escorted -the four boys stood at the door of the house of the -choir, and saying good-by to them as they went in, -bade them come, if they might, and visit their old -home; and so, with a benediction, sent them forth -into a larger world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not much larger, nor was it as agreeable. -When the good father left them, one Tomas, who -was steward of the choir-house, took the lads in -charge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Up with ye, singing-birds!" he cried; "up! up!" And -this at each story: "It will soon be your best -chance of heaven; up! up!" until they reached a -large attic under the tiles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a dismal place, and hospitable to every -wind that blew. Each of twelve choir-boys had a -straw mattress on the floor, and pegs where hung his -clothes and the white surplice he wore during -service. The four newcomers took possession, and were -soon informed by Tomas of their duties. They must -be up at five to sing before breakfast with the second -chanter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Before breakfast!" cried one of the recruits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little animal!" said Tomas. "Before thou dost -eat there is room to fill thy chest; but after, what -boy hath room? Breakfast at six and a half; at -seven a lesson. Thou wilt intone with Père Lalatte."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus the day was to be filled; for here were -lessons a-plenty in Latin, and all must learn to read and -to write, for they might be priests some blessed day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François reflected as Tomas packed the hours with -this and that as one packs a bag. He made his -face as grave as nature would let it be, and said -it was very nice, and that he liked to sing. Was -there anything else? Tomas replied that this first -day they might ask questions, but that after that he -(Tomas) had only one answer, because to have only -one saved thinking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This amused François, who was prematurely -capable of seeing the fun of things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When a duller boy who did not apprehend asked -to know more he received an illustration in the form -of a smart smack, which proved convincingly -instructive, and silenced all but François, who asked, -"Please, monsieur, when may we play?" and "Is -there anything more?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tomas replied that there was a free hour before -supper, and a little while somewhere about noon in -the garden; also, they must wait on table; and oh, -he forgot the prayers; and then went on to complete -the packing of the day with various small duties in -the nature of attentions to the comfort of Tomas. -With some last words as to the time of the next -meal, the steward left them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lads, silent and anxious, arranged their small -possessions. A little goldfinch in a wicker cage was -Francis's most valued property; he had taught it -many pretty tricks, and now he had been allowed to -bring it with him. François put the cage on the -window-ledge, and fed his brightly tinted bird from -a small store of millet with which he had filled his -pocket. Then he looked out to see what prospect -the view from the attic afforded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The home of the master-choristers was an ancient -house of the days of Henri IV, and leaned so far -over that as the boy looked out he had a sudden fear -lest it should be about to tumble. The street was -not more than twelve feet wide. The opposite dwellings -were a full story below the attic from which the -boy looked. The nearest house across the way had -an ancient stoop. Others bent back from the line of -the street, and the open windows gave them a look of -yawning weariness which set the boy to gaping in -sympathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Above was a mottled wilderness of discolored tiles, -chimney-pots, and here and there gray corner turrets -with vanes which seemed to entertain diverse views -as to the direction whence the wind blew. Below -was the sunless well of the street. As he gazed he -saw the broad hats of priests hiding the figures -beneath them. It interested the boy. It was new and -strange. He was too intent to notice that all but he -had gone, obedient to an order of Tomas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A woman at a window over the way let fall a skirt -she had been drying. It sailed to and fro, and fell -on the head of a reflective abbé. The boy broke into -laughter. A cat climbed on to a chimney-pot, and -was met by a gust of smoke from the flue beside it. -She scrambled off, sneezing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What fun!" cried the boy, and laughed again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little beast!" shouted Tomas. "Must I come -for thee? 'T is not permitted to laugh. It is forbid -to laugh. It spoils the voice"—a queer notion -which, to his sorrow, the boy found to prevail in the -house of the choristers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can that be?" said François, boldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man gave him to understand that he was to -obey his betters without answering, and then, taking -the cage from the window, said: "Come—quick, -too! Thou art late for the dinner, and must do -without it. There is a singing-lesson. Off with -thee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was leaving the room when, suddenly, a strange -fury of anger came on the boy. He snatched the -cage from the man's hand, crying, "My bird! It is -my bird!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tomas caught him, and began to administer a -smart cuffing; but the lad was vigorous and of feline -agility. He used nails, teeth, and feet. Then, of a -sudden, he ceased to struggle, and fell on a mattress -in an agony of tears. The man had set his foot on -the fallen cage, crying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will teach thee a lesson, little animal!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There lay in the crushed cage the dead bird, still -quivering, a shapeless mass of green and yellow with -a splotch of red. It was the first lesson of that -larger world toward which the foundling had been -so joyfully looking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made no further resistance to the discipline -which followed. Then came a dark cell and bread -and water for a weary day, and much profit in the -way of experience. It was a gentle home he had -left. He had known there no unkindness, nor had -he ever so sinned as to suffer more than some mild -punishment. The new life was hard, the diet spare. -As the winter came on, the attic proved to be cold. -The winds came in from the tiles above and through -the shrunken window-frames. Once within, they -seemed to stay and to wander in chilly gusts. The -dark suits worn by the choir-boys were none too -warm. If the white surplice were clean, little more -was asked in that direction. There were long -services twice a day at the great cathedral near by, and -three hours of practice under the eye of a junior -chorister. The boys were abed at eight, and up at -five; and for play, there were two uncertain hours—after -the noon meal and at seven in the evening—when -they were free to move about a small court -behind the house, or to rest, if they pleased, in the -attic. Four days in the week there were lessons in -Latin and in reading and writing. Assuredly the -devil had little of the chance which idle hours are -presumed to give. But this fallen angel has also -the industry of the minute, and knows how to profit -by the many chances of life. He provided suggestive -lessons in the habits of the choristers who dwelt -in the stories above the wine-shop on the first floor. -Sounds of gay carouses reached the small garret saints -at night, and gay voices were heard which had other -than masculine notes. At meal-times the choir-boys -waited on their masters, and fetched their food from -the kitchen. The lads soon learned to take toll on -the way, and to comfort their shrunken stomachs -with a modest share of the diet of their betters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little rats!" said Tomas the steward, "you will -squeal in purgatory for this; and 't were better to -give you a dose of it here." And so certain of the -rats, on account of temporary excess of feed, were -given none for a day, and left in a cold cellar to such -moral aids as reflection might fetch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François sat with his comrades of mishap in the -gloom, and devised new ways of procuring food and -concealing their thefts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rats we are," said François, gaily; "and rats had -need be smart; and who ever heard that the </span><em class="italics">bon Dieu</em><span> -sent rats to purgatory?" Then he hatched queer -stories to keep up the spirits of the too penitent; -and whether full or empty, cold or warm, took all -that came with perpetual solace of good-humored -laughter. It was not in him to bear malice. The -choir-masters liked him, and with the boys he was -the leader.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most of the dozen choir-bays were dull fellows; -but this sharp-witted François was of other make, -and found in the table-talk of the choristers, and of -the curé's who came now and then to share their -ample fare, food for such thoughts as a boy thinks. -He soon learned, as he grew older, how difficult is -complete sin; how many outlets there are for him -who, being penitent, desires to create new -opportunities for penitence. François was fast forming -his character. He had small need to look for -excuses, and a meager talent for regret. When his -stomach was full he was good, and when it was -empty he must, as he said in after years, "fill it to -squeeze out Satan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were singular books about, and for his -education, now that he read Latin fairly well, a manual -on confession. It was not meant for half-fed -choir-boys. More fascinating were the confessions of one -Rousseau—a highly educative book for a clever boy -of sixteen. At this age François was a long-legged, -active fellow, a keen-witted domestic brigand, expert -in providing for his wants, and eagerly desirous of -seeing more of the outside world, of the ways of -which he was so ignorant. The procession of closely -watched boys went to church and back again to the -old house at least once a day, and this was his only -glimpse of the entertaining life of the streets. When -left to himself, he liked best in good weather to sit -at the open attic window and watch the cats on the -roofs across the way. So near were the houses that -he could toss a bone or a crust on to the roof -opposite, and delight to see these Ishmaelites contend for -the prize. He grew to know them, so that they -would come at dusk to the roof-edge, and contemplate -dietetic possibilities with eager and luminous -eyes. Being versed in the Bible, as all good -choir-boys should be, he found names for his feline friends -which fitted their qualities; for there, among the -chimneys, was a small world of stirring life which no man -disturbed. He saw battles, jealousies, greediness, and -loves. Constancy was not there. Solomon of the -many wives was king of the tiles; a demure blue cat -was Susannah, for good reasons; and there, too, were -the elders. It might have seemed to some pitiful -angel a sad picture—this poor lad in the grasp of -temptations, but made for better chances, finding his -utmost joy in the distant company of these lean Arabs -of the desert housetops.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="iii"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Of the misfortunes caused by loss of a voice, and of how -a cat and a damsel got François into trouble—whereupon, -preferring the world to a monastery, he ran -away from the choristers of Notre Dame.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was in the month of June, in the year -1784, that a female got him into trouble, -and aided to bring about a decision as -to his future. This was, however, only -one of the distressing incidents which -at the time affected his career, and was not his final -experience of the perils to which attention to the -other sex may expose the unwary. A few days -before the sad event which brought about a change in -François's life, he was engaged in singing one of the -noble Gregorian chants. Never had he used his voice -with greater satisfaction. He was always pleased -and eagerly ambitious when in the choir, and was -then at his best. This day it seemed to him, as he -sang, that his clear tones rose like a bird, and that -something of him was soaring high among the -resonant arches overhead. Of a sudden his voice broke -into a shrill squeak. The choir-master shook a finger -at him, and he fell into a dead silence, and sang no -more that morning. The little white-robed procession -marched out, and when it reached the gray old -house there was wrath and consternation over the -broken treble. He was blamed and beaten; but, after -all, it was a too likely misfortune. If it chanced again -he must go to the Dominican convent at Auteuil, and -perhaps in a year or two would be lucky enough to get -back his voice. Meanwhile let him take care. Poor -François did his best; but a week later, amid the -solemnity of a mass for the dead, came once more -that fatal break in the voice. He knew that his fate -was sealed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little was said this time, but he overheard the -head of the choir arranging with Tomas the steward -that the boy should go to Auteuil. Until then he was -no longer to serve in the choir.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François had seen all this occur before, when, as -was common, some little singer lost control of his -changing voice. His case was hopeless. Yet here -was an idle time and no more singing-lessons. But -a part of the small joys of a life not rich in happy -moments was gone, to come back no more, as he knew -too well. Of late his fine quality of song had won -him some indulgence, and he had learned how much -a fine voice might mean. Dim visions began to open -before him, as he heard of how choir-boys had -conquered fame and wealth in France or elsewhere. One -day the leader of the choir had praised him and his -diligence, and hoped he would never leave them. He -was told what a great possession was a voice like his, -and had even been envied by the less gifted. Now -this possession was taken from him, and he was at -once made sadly aware of his loss. His vanity, -always great, was wounded to the quick. A little -kindness would have led him to go to the convent -and hopefully bide his time; but nobody cared, or -seemed to care, for him, or to pity what to his active -imagination was a fatal wreck of goodly chances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a day or two he went about disconsolate, and -was set to serve in the kitchen or to wait on the man -Tomas, who jeered at his squeaky voice, and called -him "little pig," with additions of some coarser -amenities of language, and certain information as -to the convent life of a lay servant ill calculated to -make Auteuil appear desirable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In his leisure hours, which now were many, -François took refuge from the jests of his fellows in the -lonely garret. The people across the way in their -rooms amused him. The cats were never long -absent. He watched their cunning search for the nests -of the sparrows, and very soon began to feel again -the invincible lifting power of his comic nature. -Some remembrance of the alarm in the choir-master's -face when his voice broke came upon François, and -he began to laugh. Just then he saw Solomon on -the roof opposite. The master of a populous harem -was in the company of the two naughty elders. -Susannah, behind a chimney, was making her modest -toilet with a skilful tongue. He called her, and held -up a tempting bone. The shy maiden hesitated. -He called, "Suzanne, Suzanne!" to bring her to the -edge of the tiled roof and near enough to make sure -that the elders would not capture her desired prize.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he called, a little grisette who was hanging out -clothes to dry kissed her hand to the boy. François -had seen her before. She was not attractive. He -liked his cats better. "Suzanne, Suzanne!" he -called, as the virgin, looking about her, daintily -picked her way to the edge. High on the roof-top, -Solomon exhorted the elders, and in a moment backs -were humped, and claws out, and there was bad -language used, which may have been Hebrew, but at all -events appeared to be sufficiently expressive; for -the elders and Solomon, of a sudden rolling over in a -wild scuffle, disappeared on the farther side of the roof. -This was the maid's opportunity, and gratefully -licking her anticipative chops, she crawled to the gutter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Bonne Suzanne</em><span>! </span><em class="italics">Viens donc</em><span>! Come, come, -Suzanne!" cried the boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of a sudden a smart box on the ear broke up this -pretty love-affair. There stood Tomas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A nice choir-boy! Talking with that beast of a -grisette!" Then there were more liberal whacks as -the boy, in a rage, was dragged away, and bidden to -come down-stairs and carry to market the nets used -in place of baskets. Tomas usually went alone to -buy provisions, but now the choir-boy was free and -could be made of use.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François uttered no complaint. It was literally -the only time he had had a chance to be in the -streets, except as part of the procession to and from -the church. He was sore, angry, and resentful of the -ill usage which in the last few days had taken the -place of the growing respect his talent had created. -He took the nets and his cap, and followed Tomas. -"What a chance!" he thought to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy concealed the delight he felt, and followed -the steward, who went down to the river and across -it to the open market on the farther bank. He -stopped here and there to buy provisions and to chat -with the market-women. When one of them, pleased -with the odd-looking lad, gave him an apple, Tomas -took it from him. François laughed, which seemed -always to offend the saturnine steward. He could -not destroy the pleasure of the gay market for -François, who made queer faces at the mistresses of the -stalls, teased the dogs and cats for sale in cages, and -generally made himself happy until they came home -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But from this time onward, except for these -excursions, his life was made miserable enough. He -was the slave of Tomas, and was cruelly reminded -day after day of the misery of him who has a servant -for his master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he learned that the time was near when he -must go to Auteuil. His voice had been tested again, -and he had been told that there was small hope of its -return. He began to think of escape. Once he was -sent alone on an errand to a shop near by. He -lingered to see some street-jugglers, and paid for it -with a day in a damp cellar. Within this sad home -he now found only reproaches and unthanked labor. -The choristers laughed at him, and the happier boys -mocked his changed voice. On the day after his last -experience of the cellar, he was told by Tomas to be -ready to go to Auteuil, and was ordered once again -to follow the steward to market. He took up the -nets and went after him. The lad looked back at -the choir-house. He meant to see it no more. He -was now seventeen, and in the three years of his stay -had learned many things, some good and some bad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext" id="id1"><span>They went past Notre Dame to the quai, and -through rows of stalls along the shores of the Seine. -Tomas soon filled the nets, which were hung over -François's shoulders. Meanwhile the chattering -women, the birds and cages, the flowers, the moving, -many-colored crowd, amused or pleased the boy, but -by no means turned him from his purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come!" cried Tomas, and began to elbow his -way through the noisy people on the river-bank. -Presently François got behind him, and noting his -chances with a ready eye, slipped through between -the booths and darted up the Seine.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="iv"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Of how the world used François, and of the reward of -virtue. He makes his first friend.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Tomas, having won his way out of -the press about a fortune-teller, looked -for François, there was a lost choir-boy -and two days' diet gone none knew -whither—least of all the fugitive. He -moved away with the speed of fear, and was soon in -the somber network of narrow streets which in those -days made a part of the Île de la Cité the refuge of the -finest assortment of thieves, bravos, gypsies, and low -women to be found in any capital of Europe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His scared looks and decent black suit betrayed -him. An old fellow issued from a doorway like a -spider. "Ha, ha, little thief!" he said; "I will buy -thy plunder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was well pleased. He took eagerly the -ten sous offered, and saw the spider poke a long red -beak into the loaded nets as he passed out of sight -in the dark doorway. François looked at the money. -It was the first he had ever owned. He walked -away in haste, happy to be free, and so over a bridge -to the Île St. Louis, with its pretty gardens and the -palaces of the great nobles. At the far end of the -isle he sat down in the sun and watched the red -barges go by, and took no more care for to-morrow -than does a moth just out of its cocoon. He caught -up the song of a man near by who was mending a -bateau. He whistled as he cast stones into the water. -It was June, and warm, and before him the river -playing with the sunset gold, and behind him the -dull roar of Paris. Ah, the pleasure to do as he -would! Why had he waited so long?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Toward night he wandered back into the Cité, and -saw an old woman selling fried potatoes, and crying, -"Two sous, two sous!" He asked for thus much, -and received them in the top of his cap. The hag -took his ten-sou piece, and told him to begone. -Amazed at this bit of villainy, poor François -entreated her to give him his change. She called him -a thief, and when a dreadful man sallied out of a -wine-shop and made murderous threats, the boy ran -as fast as he could go, and never ceased until he got -to the river again. There, like Suzanne, he kept -watch for the foes of property, and at last ate his -potatoes, and began to reflect on this last lesson in -morality. He had stolen many morsels, many -dinners, and his fair share of wine; but to be himself -robbed of his entire means was calculated to enlarge -his views of what is possible in life, and also -undesirable. The night was warm; he slept well in an -abandoned barge, but woke up early to feel that -liberty had its drawbacks, and that emptiness of stomach -was one of the large family of needs which stimulate -the ingenuity of man or boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quite at a loss, he wandered once more through -the slums of the Cité, and soon lost himself in the -network of narrow streets to the north of the -cathedral, hearing, as he went, strange slang, which his -namesake François Villon would have better understood -than he. The filth of the roadways and that -of the tongue were here comparable. Some boys, -seeing his sober suit of the dark cloth worn by the -choir, pelted him with stones. He ran for his life, -and falling over a man who was sawing wood, -received a kick for remembrance. Far away he paused -breathless in a dark lane which seemed unpeopled, -and where the houses leaned over like palsied old -scoundrels who whisper to one another of ancient -crime. Even to a boy the place was of a sudden -terrible. There was murder in the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt, without knowing why, the danger of the -place. A painted creature, half clad, came out of a -house—a base animal whom the accident of sex had -made a woman. She called to him to come in. He -turned and went by her in haste and horror. A man -in a red shirt ran toward him, crying out some -ordures of speech. As he fled there was a sudden -peopling of window and doorway with half-naked -drunken men and women. He had never before seen -such faces. He was in that pit of crime and bestiality -which before long was to overflow and riot in a -limitless debauch of blood. The boy's long legs served -him well. He dodged and ran this way and that. -At the mouth of the </span><em class="italics">cul-de-sac</em><span> a lank boy caught him -by the arm. François struck him fiercely, and with -a sense of joy in the competence of the first blow he -had ever given one of his own years, he fled again; -nor did he pause until, free from foes, he stood -panting in the open sunshine below the great buttresses -of Notre Dame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw here that no one took notice of him, and, -once more at ease, crossed from the Cité to the right -bank of the Seine. Thus wandering he came at last -to one of the low bridges which spanned the broad -ditches then bounding the Place Louis XV, where -now is the Place de la Concorde. The ducks and -swans in these canals delighted him. He lingered, -liking the gaiety and careless joy of the children with -their nurses. The dogs, acrobats, musketeers, and -the pomp of heavy, painted carriages rolling by with -servants in liveries, the Swiss guards, the magnificence -of the king's palace, were all to him as a new -world might have been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went on, and at last along the Rue St. Honoré -and to the Palais Royal, where, amid its splendid -shops, cafés, jugglers, fortune-tellers, and richly clad -people, he forgot for an hour his poor little stomach -and its claims. By and by he took note of the -success of a blind beggar. He watched him for an hour, -and knew that he had in this time gathered in sous -at least a franc. The shrunken stomach of the boy -began to convert its claims into demands, and with -this hint he put on a sad face and began to beg. It -was not a very prosperous business; but he stated -his emptiness so pitifully, and his voice had such -sweet, pleading notes, that at last he thus acquired -six or eight sous, and retired to the outer gate to -count them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The imprudence of estimating wealth in public was -soon made clear to him. He was seated back of the -open grille, his cap on his lap, when a quick, clawlike -hand, thrust between the railings, darted over his -shoulder, and seized two thirds of his gains. He -started up in time to see that the thief was the blind -beggar, who was away and lost in the crowd and -among the horses and carriages, to all appearances -in excellent possession of the sense of sight. Pursuit -was vain. Francois's education was progressing. Most -lads thus tormented by fate would have given way -to rage or tears. François cried out, "</span><em class="italics">Sathanas!</em><span>" -not knowing as yet any worse expletive, and burst -into a roar of laughter. At least there were three -sous left, and these he put into his pocket. His -lessons were not over. The crowd thinned at noon, and -he rose to go in search of food. At this moment a -gentleman in very gorgeous dress, with ruffles, sword, -and a variety of dazzling splendors, went by, and at -the boy's feet let fall a lace handkerchief. François -seized it, and stood still a moment. Then he put it -in his breast, and again stood still. To take food is -one thing; to steal a handkerchief is quite another. -He was weak with hunger, but he had three sous. -He ran after the gentleman, and cried:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is your handkerchief!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very honest lad," said its owner; "you will -do well in the world "; and so went his way, leaving -to virtue the proverbial reward of virtue. This time -François did not laugh. In the Rue St. Honoré he -bought some boiled beans for two sous, and retired -to eat them in peace on the steps of St. Roch. Soon -he saw a woman with a tin pan come out of a little -shop and after her a half-grown black poodle. She -set down the pan, and left the dog to his meal. -François reconnoitered cautiously, and giving the -dog a little kick, fled with the pan, and was shortly -safe in an unfrequented passage behind the church. -Here he found that he was master of a chop and a -half-eaten leg of chicken. He had eaten the chop and -some crusts, as well as the beans, when he became -aware of the black poodle, which, being young, still -had confidence in human nature, and now, with sense -of ownership, thrust his black nose in the pan of -lessening viands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François laughed gaily. The touch of friendly -trust gave the lonely boy a thrill of joy, and, with -some reluctance doubtless, he gave the dog what was -left, feeding him in bits, and talking as a comrade to -a comrade. The poodle was clearly satisfied. This -was very delightful society, and he was receiving -such attention as flatters a decent dog's sense of his -social position. The diet was less than usual, but -the company was of the best, and inspired the -extreme of confidence. There is a charm of equality as -between dog and boy. Both are of Bohemia. The -poodle stood up when asked to beg. He was invited -to reveal his name. He received with the -sympathetic sadness of the motionless tail the legend of -François's woes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When at last François rose, the dog followed him -a little way, saying plainly, "Where thou goest I will -go." But the unlicked pan needed attention; he -turned back to the fleshpots. Seeing himself -deserted, a vague sadness came upon François. It was -the shadow of an uncomprehended emotion. He -said, "Adieu, </span><em class="italics">mon ami!</em><span>" and left the little black -fellow with his nose in the pan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An hour of wandering here and there brought -François to the palisades around the strong -foundations of the new church of the Madeleine. Beyond -were scattered country houses, the Pépinières of the -king, and the great English garden of Monceaux -belonging to the Duc d'Orléans. This fascinating -stretch of trees and green and boundless country -was like a heavenly land to the boy. No dream -could be more strange. He set out by the Rue de la -Pologne, and at last went with timid doubt through -the </span><em class="italics">barrière</em><span>, and was soon in the open country. To -his surprise, he heard a yap at his side, and there -was the little black poodle, apparently as well pleased -as he. François had no scruples as to ownership. -</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span> had he stolen the dog, or had the dog -stolen him? They ran along happy, the boy as little -troubled as the dog by questions of conscience. The -country was not productive of easily won food, but -a few stolen plums were to be had. A girl coming -from milking gave a jug of milk, which François, -despite keen hunger, shared with his friend. When -a couple of miles from Paris, he sat down to rest by -the roadside. The dog leaped on to his lap, and the -boy, as he lay in the sun, began to think of a name -for this new friend. He tried merrily all the -dog-names he could think of; but when at last he called, -"Toto!" the poodle barked so cordially that -François sagaciously inclined to the belief that he must -have hit upon the poodle's name. "Toto it shall be," -he cried. All that day they wandered joyfully, -begged a crust, and at night slept in an orchard, -the poodle clasped to the boy's bosom—a pair of -happy vagabonds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When, next day, the pair of them, half starved, -were disconsolately returning toward Paris, an old -woman bade François earn a few sous by picking -strawberries. But the dog must not range the garden; -he should be tied in the kitchen. François worked -hard at the matter in hand, taking good toll of the -berries, and at noon went back with the old dame to -her cottage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is five sous, </span><em class="italics">mon garçon</em><span>, and a bowl of milk -thou shalt have, and a bit of meat; and how merry -thou art!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alas! as she opened the door the poodle fled past -her with a whole steak in his mouth. Hot it was, -but of such delicate savor that it gave him courage -to hold on. The old woman threw a stool after him, -and cried out in wrath that they were both thieves. -Then she turned on poor François with fury and a -broom, so that he had scarce time to leap the fence -and follow the dog. He found him at last with his -rather dusty prize; and seeing no better thing to do, -he went deep into a wood, and there filled himself as -he had not done for days. The brigand Toto had -his share, and thus reinforced, they set out again to -return to Paris.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="v"><span class="bold large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Of the immorality which may come of an empty -stomach, and of how François became acquainted with a -human crab.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This nomad life was sadly uncertain; but -Toto was a sharp forager, and what -with a sou begged here and there, and -the hospitality of summer, for a while -they were not ill contented. But at last -François passed two days of such lean living as set -his wits to work. There was clearly no help for it, -and with a rueful face he entered the shop whence -Toto had followed his uncertain fortunes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The owner was a pleasant little woman who took -honesty for granted. Yes, it was her dog; and how -long he had been gone! Here was a great piece of -twenty sous; and where did he find the poodle? -François declared that he lived near by and knew -the dog. He had found him in the Rue du Faubourg -St. Lazare. And was it so far away as that? He -must be tired, and for his honesty should be well fed. -Thus, rich as never before, and with a full stomach, -he left Toto tied up, and went out into the world -again, lonely and sad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Needless is it to describe his wanderings, or to -relate how the lonely lad acquired the sharp ways of a -gamin of the streets. For a while he begged or stole -what food he required. Some four months later, a -combination of motives led him into theft which was -not mere foraging.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On a cold November day he was again in the -crowded gardens and arcades of the Palais Royal. -He was shabby enough by this time, and was sharply -reminded by the cool nights of the need for shelter. -By chance his eye lighted on the man who shammed -blindness and had stolen his precious sous. The -beggar was kneeling, cap in hand, with closed eyes, -his head turned upward, entreating pity for his -loss of sight. There were some sous in his cap. A -François passed he made believe to add another sou, -and as he did so deftly scooped up the greater part -of the coins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The blind man cried out; but the boy skipped -aside, laughing, well aware that for the beggar to -pursue him would be hardly advisable, as he might -lose more than he could gain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few sous were of small account. They insured -a meal, but not a lodging. As he was thus reflecting, -he saw near by and presently beside him the gentleman -who had so highly appreciated the return of his -handkerchief. The coat pockets were large in those -days, and the crowd was great. A little white corner -of lace besought Master François, crying, "I am food -and lodging for thee!" Whereupon it was done, and -a lace handkerchief changed owners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It cannot be said that these downward steps cost -François any moral discomfort. He grinned as he -thought of the beggar's perplexity, and laughed -outright as he felt how complete had been his own joy -in the satisfaction of possession could he have made the -owner of the kerchief understand that he had suffered -not merely a theft, but the punishment of injustice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was now too well versed in the ways of the -street-boy, too dirty and too ragged, to fear the Cité. -Thither he went, and found a thieves' shop, where he -sold the handkerchief, and got ten francs for what -was worth thirty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question of a place where he could be sure of -a bed was his first consideration on coming into his -fortune. In the long, warm summers of France one -who was not particular could find numerous -roosting-places, but in winter a more constant home was -to be desired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the Cité François had occasionally lodged here -and there when he could afford to pay, and had been -turned out when he had no more sous. Now, being -affluent, and therefore hard to please, he wandered -until he came upon the lodging-house of an old -woman in the Rue Perpignan. He knew of her as -a dealer in thieves' goods, and as ever ready to shelter -the lucky—and, it was suspected, as willing to betray -those who were persistently unfortunate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What drew him to this woman's house it were hard -to tell. She was repulsive in appearance, but, -strangely enough, was clean as to her person, dress, -and abode. Asylum life had taught François to be -cleanly. He declares in his memoirs that he was by -habit neat, and that it was the absence of dirt which -first tempted him into a relation which was so largely -to affect his after life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he became one of this woman's lodgers he -took a step which was for him of moment. Now for -the first time he was to be in the company of old and -practised thieves; but he was not yet of an age to be -troubled as to the future or to reflect upon the past. -The horizon of youth is small.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found plenty of masters to educate him in the -evil business into which he had been driven by -relentless fate. Never was pupil more ready. His -hostess appreciated the cleverness of her new lodger, -but it was long before he himself realized how -strange was the aspect and how sinister the nature -of this mother of evil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Certain historical epochs create types of face. This -was a period which manufactured many singular -visages. None was more strange than that which -Mme. Quatre Pattes carried on a body quite as -remarkable. François speaks of her over and over in -his memoirs, and dwells upon the peculiarities of her -appearance. I recall well what he said to me, one -evening, of this creature:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, monsieur, I went to one den of thieves -and another until I chanced upon the Crab. It is -not to be described; for here in a little room was a -witch, crumpled and deformed, sharply bent forward -as to the back from the waist, and—ah, </span><em class="italics">diablement</em><span> -thin! She was cleanly and even neat, and her room -was a marvel, because over there in the Cité men were -born and lived and died, and never saw a clean thing. -And she was of a strangeness—consider, monsieur; -imagine you a bald head, and a lean face below, very -red, and the skin drawn so tight over the bones as to -shine. Her eyes were little and of a dull gray; but -they held you. Her lips were lean, and she kept them -moving in a queer way as if chewing. I did laugh -when first I saw her, but not often afterward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he confided to this clean and horrible -creature what he wanted, she made him welcome. She -rattled the two sticks which her bent form made -needful for support. She would house him cheaply; -but he must be industrious—and to sell a lace -handkerchief for ten francs—</span><em class="italics">tonnerre</em><span>! He needed -caution. She would be a </span><em class="italics">bonne maman</em><span> to him—she, -Quatre Pattes, "four paws"; the Crab, they called -her, too, for short, and because of her red leanness and -spite; but what was her real name he did not learn -for many a day. At first her appearance excited in -his mind no emotion except amazement and mirth. -A terrible old crab it was when she showed her -toothless gums and howled obscenities, while her -sticks were used with strange agility. The quarter -feared her. M. François had a fortune in his face, -she said; and did he know the </span><em class="italics">savate</em><span>, the art to -kick? There was a master next door. And again, -what a face! With that face he might lie all day, -and who would disbelieve him? Better to fetch her -what he stole. She would see that no one cheated -him but herself, and that would be ever so little. -One must live. When she laughed, which was not -often, François felt that a curse were more gay. -There were devil-women in those days, as the mad -world of Paris soon came to know; and the Crab, -with her purple nose and crooked red claws, was -of the worst.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="vi"><span class="bold large">VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Of how François regained a lost friend, and of his -adventure with the poet Horace and another gentleman.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Thus François was launched on what he -was pleased to call the business of life, -and soon became expert in the transfer -of property. Strange to say, he had -little pleasure in the debauchery of -successful crime, and was too good-natured to like -violence. When he had enough for his moderate wants -he wandered in the country, here and there, in an -aimless, drifting way. Simple things gave him -pleasure. He could lie in the woods or on the highway -half a day, only moving to keep in the sun. He liked -to watch any living creature—to see the cows feed, -to observe the birds. He had a charm for all animals. -When the wagons went by, dogs deserted them, and -came to him for a touch and a word. Best of all it -was to sit beside some peasant's beehive, finding there -no enmity, and smiling at the laborious lives he had no -mind to imitate. Sometimes he yearned for the lost -poodle, and had a pang of loneliness. That this man -should have had gentle tastes, a liking for nature, a -regard for some of the decencies of life, will not -surprise those who know well the many varieties of the -young criminal class; neither will these be amazed to -learn that now and then he heard mass, and crossed -himself devoutly when there was occasion. Children -he fascinated; a glance of his long, odd face would -make them leave nurse and toy, and sidle up to him. -In the Cité these singularities made him avoided, while -his growing strength caused him to be feared. He -sought no friends among the thieves. "Very -prudent, that," said Mme. Quatre Pattes; "the more -friends, the more enemies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was quick and active, and a shrewd observer; -for the hard life of the streets had sharpened his -naturally ready wits, and he looked far older than his -years. Of a Sunday in May he was walking down -the Rue St. Honoré, feeling a bit lonely, as was not -often the case, when he saw Toto. He whistled, and -the poodle ran to him, and would no more of the -shop or fat food he liked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Toto! </span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu</em><span>!" he laughed, hugging the dog, -his eyes full with the tears of joy. "Hast stolen me -again! Wilt never return me? 'T is no honest dog. -</span><em class="italics">Viens donc</em><span>. Come, then, old friend." Joyous in the -company of his comrade, who was now well grown, -he strolled out into the fields, where Toto caught a -rabbit—a terrible crime in those days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the next two years the pair fairly prospered. -François, as he used to relate, having risen -in his profession, found a certain pleasure in good -clothes, and being of a dramatic turn, could put -on an air of bourgeois sobriety, or, with a sword -at his side and a bit of lace here and there, -swagger as a lesser gentleman. If things were very -bad, he sold Toto and all his fine tricks for a round -sum, and in a day or two was sure to find the dog -overjoyed and back again at the garret door. The -pair were full of devices. There was Toto, a plated -snuff-box in his mouth, capering before some old -gentle or some slow-pacing merchant; appears -François, resistlessly smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has monsieur lost a snuff-box? My dog? Yes, -monsieur. He is honest, and clever too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Monsieur, hastily searching, produces his own -snuff-box—the indispensable snuff-box of the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; thanks." And it is noted that the box he -shows is of gold, and into what pocket it falls. In -the next crowd Toto knows how to make a disturbance -with some fat lap-dog, and in the confusion -thus created the snuff-box changes owners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the man be sorry, I at least am made happy," -says François; "and he hath been the better for a -lesson in caution. I got what I needed, and he what -he required. Things are very even in this -world." François had learned philosophy among the curés -and priests of the choir-house. As he avoided great -risks, and, as I have said, was averse to violence, he -kept clear of detection, and could deceive the police -of the king if by rare chance he were in peril of -arrest. When the missing property was some minor -article, such as a handkerchief, it was instantly hid -in Toto's mouth. The dog skipped away, the -outraged master was searched; the bewildered owner -apologized, and the officers were shocked at such a -needless charge. François talked about his offended -honor, and as he looked at twenty to be a strong -man of full age, the affair was apt to go no further.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half the cleverness and thought thus devoted to -an ignoble pursuit would have given him success in -more honest ways. But for a long while no angel -chance tempted him, and it must be admitted that he -enjoyed the game he pursued, and was easily -contented, not eagerly caring to find a less precarious -and less risky mode of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Temperament is merely a permanent mood. François -was like the month of June in his dear Paris. -There might be storms and changes, but his mental -weather had the pleasant insurance of what was in the -order of despotic nature. And yet to be owner of the -continual sunshine of cheerfulness has its drawbacks. -It deprives a man of some of the wholesome lures of -life. It dulls the spurs which goad us to resolve. It -may make calamity too easy of endurance. To be too -consistently cheerful may be in itself a misfortune. -It had for this vagrant all its values and some of its -defects. His simple, gay existence, and his flow of -effervescent merriment, kept him happy and thoughtless. -Most persons of this rare type like company; -but François was an exception. He was better -pleased to be alone with his dog, and usually desired -no other society. As the poodle could not talk, his -master was given to making answer for him, and -finding no one to his taste among the Crab's villainous -lodgers, kept to himself, and was satisfied. Nor -did he ever appear to have imagined what the larger -world he knew not held of such human society as -would have comforted that sense of void in his heart -which he acknowledged at times, but had no way -to fill. When fortune played him some sorry trick, -he laughed, and unconsciously quoted La Rochefoucauld. -"Toto, ah, my Toto, one can never be as -cunning as everybody." This was apropos of an incident -which greatly amused him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was in his favorite resort, the Palais Royal, one -June morning, and was at this time somewhat short -of cash. The Crab had preached him a sharp sermon -on his lack of industry, and he had liked neither the -sermon nor the preacher. At this moment a young -fellow in fine clothes came by. François, producing, -as usual, a gaudy snuff-box worth some ten francs, -politely asked of monsieur had he lost this box. -Monsieur took it in his hand. Yes, yes; he had just -missed it, the gift of his god-father, and was much -obliged. He let it fall into his pocket, and walked -away. François looked after him. "Toto, </span><em class="italics">nous -sommes volés</em><span>—we are sold!" Then the fun of it, as -usual, overcame him, and he wandered away to the -garden of the Luxembourg, and at last threw himself -on a bench, and laughed as a child laughs, being for -moments quiet, and then given over to uncontrolled -mirth. Having feasted with honest comfort on all -the humorous aspects of the situation, his hand -chanced to fall on a little book left by some one on -the seat. He had long ceased to read, for no books -fell in his way, nor could he often have afforded to -buy them even had he had a keen appetite for their -contents.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 59%" id="figure-137"> -<span id="francois-and-toto-in-the-luxembourg"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="FRANÇOIS AND TOTO IN THE LUXEMBOURG." src="images/img-037.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">FRANÇOIS AND TOTO IN THE LUXEMBOURG.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little vellum-bound volume opened to his -touch, as if used to be generous of what it held. It -was Latin, and verse. He knew, or had known, -more than most choir-boys needed of this tongue, -and the talk of the choir-house was, by stringent -rule, in Latin. But this book was not of a religious -kind; it half puzzled his mind as he read. -Unaccustomed to profane Latin verse, and yet wholly -pleased, he began to murmur aloud the rhythmic -measures:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Poseimus, si quid vacui sub umbrâ</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Lusimus tecum, quod et hunc in annum</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Vivat, et plures: age, dic Latinum,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Barbite, carmen.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"It hath a fine sound, </span><em class="italics">mon ami</em><span>; and who was this -Quintus?" He went on reading aloud the delicious -rhythms for the joy of hearing their billowy flow. -Now and then he smiled as he caught the full -meaning of a line.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The keen-faced poodle sat on the bench beside -him, with a caressing head laid against his shoulder; -the sun was sweet and warm, the roses were many. -The time suited the book, and the book the man. -He read on, page after page of the beautiful Aldine -type, now and then pausing, vexed to be so puzzled -by these half-guessed beautiful riddles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Toto, my dog, I would thou didst know Latin. -This man he loved the country, and good wine, and -girls; and he had friends—friends, which you and -I have not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he was lost for an hour. At last he ceased -to read, and sat with a finger in the book, idly -drifting on the immortal stream of golden song.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That must have been a merry companion, Toto. -I did hear of him once in the choir-house. He must -be dead a mighty while ago. If a man is as gay as -that, it must be horrid to die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My poor thief was one of the myriad who through -the long centuries had come into kindly touch of the -friend of Mæcenas. For the first time in his -uncertain life he felt the charm of genius.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indulgent opportunity was for François always -near to some fatal enmity of chance. So does fate -deal with the unlucky. He saw coming swiftly -toward him a tall, strongly built man of middle age. -He was richly dressed, and as he drew near he smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, monsieur," he said; "I came back in haste to -reclaim my little Horace. I missed it only when I -got home. I am most fortunate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François rose. He returned the small volume, but -did not speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur of course knows Horace," said the -gentleman, looking him over, a little curious and more -than a little interested. Too sure of his own -position to shun any intercourse which promised -amusement, he went on: "No; not know Horace? Let us -sit awhile. The sun is pleasant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François, rather shy, and suspicious of a manner -of man he had never before encountered, sat down, -saying, "I was a choir-boy once. I know some Latin, -not much; but this sounded pleasant to the ear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; it is immortal music. A choir-boy, you -said; and pardon me, but, </span><em class="italics">mon Dieu</em><span>, I heard you -laugh as I was searching for my book. You have a -fine gift that way, and there is little to laugh at -nowadays in France."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur will excuse me; I am so made that I -laugh at everything and at nothing. I believe I do -laugh in my sleep. And just now I laughed -because—because—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, why did you laugh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François glanced at the questioner. Something -authoritative in his ways made it seem needful to -answer, and what this or any man thought of him -he cared little—perhaps because in his world -opinions went for nothing. And still he hesitated a -moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" There was a note of strong surprise in -the voice, as if the owner felt it to be unusual that a -query he put should not evoke instant reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I laughed because I was cheated."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Charming, that! May I ask how? But perhaps—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said François; "if it amuse monsieur, why -should I care?" He calmly related his adventure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gentleman threw himself back on the seat in -an ecstasy of amusement. He was out of humor -with the time and with his own world, and bored by -the incessant politics of the day; here was a pleasant -diversion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By St. Denis! my friend, you are like the great -Chicot that was fool to King Henry of merry -memory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how, monsieur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How? He had a long face that laughed ever, -long legs, and a shrewd way of seeming more simple -than he was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur flatters me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, and a smart rogue, too. I may conclude your -profession to be that of relieving the rich of their too -excessive luxuries."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was enchanted with this ingenious and -unprejudiced companion, who had, like himself, a -sense of the laughable aspects of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur has hit it," he said gaily; "I am a -thief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one had taught him to be ashamed of anything -but failure in his illegal enterprises.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tiens</em><span>! That is droll;—not that you are a thief: -I have known many in my own world. They steal a -variety of things, each after his taste in theft—the -money of the poor, the character of a man, a woman's -honor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I scarcely comprehend," said François, who was -puzzled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They lack your honesty of confession. Could -you be altogether honest if a man trusted you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know. No man ever trusted me, and -one must live, monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gentleman hesitated, and relapsed into the -indifference of a too easy life. He had been on the -point of offering this outcast a chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Enfin</em><span>, no doubt you are right. I wish you every -success. The deuce! Have you my snuff-box and -my handkerchief?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Both," said François.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then don't run away. I could never catch you. -Long legs must be of use in your profession. The -snuff-box I will ransom. Let us say fifty francs. It -is worth more, but it bears my name, and there are -risks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," said François. "And the handkerchief. -Monsieur is </span><em class="italics">enrhumé</em><span>—has a cold; I could -not deprive monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gentleman thanked him, paid over the money -for the box, and, greatly pleased, rose, saying: "You -are a dangerous acquaintance; but I trust we may -meet again. </span><em class="italics">Au revoir!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François remained on the bench, Toto at his feet -in the sun. This meeting affected him strangely. It -had been the first touch of a world remote from his -own. He did not recognize the fact that he had gifts -which enable men to rise in life. At times he had had -vague ambitions, but he was at the foot of a ladder, -and the rungs above were broken or not to be seen. -These moods were brief, and as to their cause not -always clear to him. He was by nature social, and -able to like or to love; but the people of the Cité -were dreadful, and if now and then some broken -refugee from a higher class delighted him for a time, -the eventful hand of justice or what not was apt to -separate them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he looked after the gentleman he felt his charm -and the courtesy of his ways as something to be -desired. His own form of attractiveness, the influence -of joyous laughter and frank approach, he had often -and usefully tested; and perhaps this sense of his own -power to please made him intelligently apprehensive -of what he had just experienced. Had he seized -eagerly the half-offered help the gentleman suggested -rather than offered, he had been wiser; but it was -literally true that, being when possible honest as to -speech, he had obeyed the moment's impulse. A -better man than the gentleman would have gone further. -He had lazily reflected, and concluded that to help -this poor devil might be troublesome, and thus the -jewel opportunity lay lost at their feet. They were -to meet again, and then it was to be the thief's turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now he sat in thought, kicking the ground with -his boot. Out of the past came remembrances of the -asylum, and how he had been told to be good, and -not to kill or to steal, or to do certain other naughty -things less clear to him then than now. But this -was a far-away time. At the choir-house were the -same moral lessons, but they who taught were they -who sinned. Since then no one had said a word of -reproach to the waif; nor had this great gentleman, -and yet he had left him in the rare mood of -thought-filled depression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wake up, Toto," he cried; "thou art become too -fat. </span><em class="italics">En avant aux champs!</em><span>" And, followed by the -poodle, he went away up the Seine, and was gone so -long that Quatre Pattes began to think he had taken -to honest courses and would return no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came back in a fortnight, the better for certain -prosperous ventures. And thus the days ran on. If -fortune were against him, and even diet hard to get, -Toto went with the Crab to some distant market -after dusk, and, while she bargained, knew to steal -a cutlet, and to run away with his prize, and make -for home or the next dark lane. But these devices -failed at times, and thus François's life consisted of -a series of ups and downs. When lucky he bought -good clothes, for which he had a liking; when -unlucky he pawned them, and went back to garments -no one would take in pledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was in the year 1788 that this adventure -occurred. He was, as far as was to be guessed, fully -twenty-one years of age. His life of adventure, of -occasional hardships, and of incessant watchfulness -had already given him the appearance of being a far -older person.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Always an odd-looking lad, as he grew to maturity -his great length of limb, his long face, and ears of -unnatural bigness, gave him such singularity of -aspect as made disguises impossible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The poodle was an added danger, and for this -reason, when in pursuit of prey, François was forced -to leave the dog with Mother Crab. Thus time ran -on with such perils as attend the life he led, but with -better fortune than could have been expected. As to -these later years up to 1790, François, in his memoirs, -says little. Once—indeed, twice—he left the Crab's -house, only to be driven back by stress of circumstance. -After 1790 his account is more complete, and -here it is that we take up again the fuller story of -his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The turmoil of vast governmental and social -changes was disturbing all ranks of life. If the -Revolution was nursed in the salons, as some say, -it was born in the furrows of the tax-tormented -peasant, and in the seething caldron of the Cité and -the quarters of the starving poor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François, who cared little what ruler was on top, -or who paid taxes, was aware of the uneasy stir in his -own neighborhood. Men were more savage. Murder -and all violent crimes were more common. That -hungry beast, the mob, began to show its fangs, soon -to be red with blood. The clubs of all opinions were -busy. The church was toppling to ruin, its centuries -of greedy gain at an end. Political lines were -sharply drawn. The white cockade and the tricolor -were the badges of hostile ranks, still more distinctly -marked by costume. The cafés were divided: some -were Royalist, some Jacobin or neutral. Too many -who were of the noble class were flying, or, if more -courageous or less forethoughtful, were gathering -into bitterly opponent camps. So much of that lower -Paris as felt, yearned, hated, and was hungry, glad -of any change, was pleased amid tumult to find its -chance to plunder and to kill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fall of the Bastille in the preceding year had -not seemed important to François. He had interested -himself in the purses of the vast crowd which -looked on and was too much taken up with the event -to guard the contents of its pockets. The violence -which came after was not to François's taste; but -these street crowds were admirable for business until -money became scarce, and the snuff-box and the lace -handkerchief disappeared with armorial bearings, -and with the decree of the people that great dames -must no more go in fine carriages.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="vii"><span class="bold large">VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Wherein is told how François saved a man's neck and -learned to juggle.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In the early spring of this year François -found himself, one day, in a crowd near -to the Porte St. Denis. He stood high -on his long legs, looking on, while men -on ladders broke up the royal escutcheon -on the stone archway. It amused him a little to see -how furious they were, and how crazy were the -foolish </span><em class="italics">poissardes</em><span>: these fishwomen, who had so many -privileges under the monarchy, at every blow of the -hammer yelled with delight; and behold, here was -the Crab, Quatre Pattes, far away from her quarter, -hoarse with screaming, a horrible edition of woman -as she stood under the arch, careless of the falling -fragments. On the edge of the more prudent crowd, -an old man was guilty of some rash protest in the -way of speech. François heard the cry, "</span><em class="italics">À bas -l'aristocrate! à la lanterne!</em><span>" and saw the Crab leap on -the man like some fierce insect, horribly agile, a thin -gray tress down her back. Swift and terrible it was. -In a moment he swung writhing from the chain of -the street-lantern, fighting with vain hands to loosen -the rope. A red-haired woman leaped up and caught -his leg. There was laughter. The man above her -hung limp. François did not laugh. He tried to -get out of the crowd, away from this quivering -horror. To do so was not easy. The crowd was noisy -and turbulent, swaying to and fro, intent on mischief. -As he moved he saw a small, stout man take, with -some lack of skill, a purse from the side-pouch of a -huge fishwoman. François, being close to the thief, saw -him seized by the woman he had robbed. In the press, -which was great, François slipped a hand into the -thief's pocket, and took out the purse. Meanwhile -there were again wild cries of "To the lantern!" -"Up with him!" the woman lamenting her loss, and -denouncing the man who had stolen. His life was -like to be brief. Surrounded by these she-devils, he -stood, white, shaking, and swearing he was innocent. -The man's anguish of fear moved François. "</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>" -he cried, "search the man before you hang him! I -say, search him!" While one of them began to act -on his hint, François let the purse fall into the -pocket of the original owner—an easy feat for a -practised hand. "The man has it not. Look again -in thy pouch, maman," he cried. "The man has it -not; that is plain." When the dame of the market -found her purse, she turned on François, amid the -laughter of her friends. "Thou art a confederate. -Thou didst put it back thyself." Indeed, things were -like to go ill. The crowd was of a mind to hang -some one. A dozen hands fell on him, while the -man he had aided slipped away quietly. François -shook off the women, and with foot and fist cleared -a space, for he was of great strength of body. He -would have earned but a short reprieve had he not -seen the Crab. He called to her: "</span><em class="italics">À moi</em><span>! Quatre -Pattes!" The ring of red-faced furies fell back -for a moment before the rage and power of a man -defending his life. Half dismayed, but furious, they -shouted: "Hang him! rail him!" and called to the -men to help them. Again François was hustled and -struck as the crowd closed in on him. He struggled, -and called to Toto, whom nothing so disturbed as to -see a rude touch laid on his master. In an instant -the dog was busy with the stout calves about him, -biting, letting go, and biting again. The diversion -was valuable, but brief; and soon Toto, who was not -over-valiant, fled to his master, the crowd yelling: -"Kill him! Hang him and the beast!" Once more -François exerted his exceptional strength, crying, -"Not while I live!" and catching up the dog under -his arm. Then he heard the shrill voice of the Crab. -"</span><em class="italics">À moi!</em><span>" he shouted, and struck right and left as -Quatre Pattes, with her sticks, squirmed in under the -great arms of the fishwomen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">À moi!</em><span>" she cried, "François!" With her sticks, -and tongue of the vilest, she cleared a space as the -venomous creatures fell back from one more hideous -than themselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile the accusing dame shook her purse at -the Crab, crying, "He put it back; I felt him do it." But -the rest laughed, and the Crab faced her with so -fierce a look that she shrank away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Off with thee!" said the Crab to François; "thou -wert near to the lantern."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T is a Jacobin of the best," she cried to the mob; -"a friend of mine. You will get into trouble—you -cursed fools!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd cheered her, and François, seizing the -chance, cried, laughing, "Adieu, mesdames," and in a -moment was out of the crowd and away. He turned -as many corners as possible, and soon, feeling it safe -to move more slowly, set down the dog and readjusted -his dress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A minute later he saw beside him the man he had -saved. "Do not speak to me here," he said; "follow -me at a distance." The man, still white and shaking, -obeyed him. At the next turn, as François paused in -doubt which way to go, he met Quatre Pattes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The devil nearly got thee, my little boy," she -said; "but a smart thief is worth some trouble to -save. Pay me for thy long neck, and quick, too." She -was full </span><em class="italics">eau-de-vie</em><span>, and, as usual then, savage -and reckless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"More!" she cried—"more!" as he gave her a -franc. "More, more! Ungrateful beast, thou art -good to feed me, and for little else. More, more! I -say, or I will call them after thee, and this time I -shall have a good pull at the rope. More, more!" -and she struck him with her stick. "</span><em class="italics">Sacré</em><span>, waif of -hell! More! more!" she screamed. "And that -fellow who helped thee! I have seen him; I know him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François turned without a word, and ran as fast as -his long legs would carry him. Two blocks away he -was overtaken by the other thief. They pushed on -in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last François, getting back his somewhat -scattered wits, said: "We can talk now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I understand," said the other; "thou didst -steal her purse from me, and put it back in her -pouch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I took it just as they caught thee; then I -let it fall into her pouch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank thee, monsieur. </span><em class="italics">Dieu</em><span>! I am all in a sweat. -We are of a trade, I perceive. Why didst thou help me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To keep it was a risk. My turn might have come -next. I pitied thee, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall never forget it—never."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François laughed. The fat man looked up at him. -"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span> but thou hast a queer face, and ears like -wings. 'T is a fortune. Let us have a little wine -and talk. I have a good idea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Presently," said François; "I like not the neighborhood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soon they found a </span><em class="italics">guinguette</em><span>, or low liquor-shop, -in the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs, and, feeling at -last secure, had a long talk over a bottle of wine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François learned that his new acquaintance was -named Pierre Despard, and that he had, for the most -part of his means of living, given up the business of -relieving the rich of their purses. He explained that -he did well as a conjurer, and had a booth near the -Pont Neuf. He made clear to François that with his -quick fingers, and a face which none could see and -not laugh, he would be a desirable partner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou must learn to move those huge ears." Would -he be his assistant? When times were bad -they might profit by tempting chances in their old -line of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was just now as near to penitence as his -nature permitted him to be, and his recent peril -disposed him to listen. The more he reflected as -Despard talked, the more he liked it. He ended by -saying, "Yes"; and before the Crab had reached home -he had taken away his slender store of garments, -and, with Toto at his heels, found his way to the -room of his new friend, in a little street which ran -into the Rue Basse du Rempart, not far from the -Madeleine. Thus began a mode of life which he -found fresh and full of satisfaction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pair so strangely brought together took a -room in the fifth story, and, with Toto, set up -domestic life on a modest scale. It was much to -François's contentment. He had what I may call a side -taste for the respectable, and this new business -seemed to him a decided rise in life. It was varied -enough to amuse him; nor was it so conventionally -commercial as to lack such adventure and incident -as this wild young reprobate of the Cité had learned -to like. The new business soon gave the partners -more than enough to live upon. After their lodging -and diet were provided for, Pierre Despard took two -thirds of what was left, and put it away in a -stocking, at first with some doubt as to his comrade, but -soon with the trust which François was apt to -inspire. From early morn until noon, Pierre taught -François to do tricks with cards, to juggle with balls, -and to tell fortunes by the lines of the hand. Toto -was educated to carry a basket and collect sous, to -stand on his head with a pipe in his mouth, and to -pick out a card at a signal. The rest of the day was -spent in the booth, where they rarely failed to be -well paid. At evening there was a quiet café and -dominoes, and a modest </span><em class="italics">petit verre</em><span> of brandy. -Meanwhile the peasants burned châteaux, and Protestant -and Catholic hanged one another in the pleasant -South.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 55%" id="figure-138"> -<span id="pierre-taught-francois-to-juggle-with-balls"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""PIERRE TAUGHT FRANÇOIS TO JUGGLE WITH BALLS."" src="images/img-053.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"PIERRE TAUGHT FRANÇOIS TO JUGGLE WITH BALLS."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now and then the Paris mob enjoyed a like luxury, -and amid unceasing disorder the past was swept on -to the dust-heaps of history.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little audience of children and nurses in front of -the booth was as yet nowise concerned as to these vast -changes; nor was Toto disturbed when it was thought -prudent to robe him with a three-colored ribbon. -The politics of the masters of the show varied as their -audiences changed from the children of the rich at -noon to the Jacobin workmen at the coming of dusk. -François personally preferred splendor and the finery -of the great. He was by nature a Royalist. Pierre -was silent or depressed, and said little as to his -opinions. But both had the prudence of men always -too near to poverty to take risks of loss for the sake -of political sentiments in which they had no -immediate interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard was a somber little man, and nimble, as -some fat men are. He was as red-cheeked as a -Norman apple, and, at this time, of unchanging gravity -of face and conduct. Not even François's gaiety could -tempt him to relate his history; and although at -times a great talker, he became so terrified when -frankly questioned as to his past, that François -ceased to urge him. That any one should desire to -conceal anything was to François amazing. He was -himself a valuable possession to his morose partner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not laugh," said Pierre; "nay, not even as a -matter of business. Thou shalt laugh for two. Some -day we will go to see the little girl who is at Sèvres, -in a school of nuns. 'T is there the money goes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a sudden revelation to François. Here -was a human being, like himself a thief, who was -sacrificing something for another. The isolation of -his own life came before him with a sense of shock. -He said he should be glad to see the child, and when -should they go?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="viii"><span class="bold large">VIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">In which François discovers the mercantile value of -laughter, and the Crab takes toll of the jugglers—with -the sad history of Despard, the partner.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Late in the evenings, in the room they -shared, the practice of the early morning -was resumed, and, above all, Pierre was -overjoyed to see what tricks of feature -were within François's control. He had, -in fact, some of the art of the actor, and was the -master of such surprises of expression as were irresistibly -comic. By and by the fame of his wonderful visage -spread, and very often the young nobles, with their -white cockades, came to see, or great ladies would -pause to have their palms read. When palmistry -was to be used, the booth was closed with black -curtains, between which was seen only this long face, -with the flaring ears and laughing eyes. Presently -a huge hand came out below, the rest of the figure -remaining unseen. Then, in the quaintest language, -François related wonderful things yet to be, his large -mouth opening so as to divide the merry face as with -a gulf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a time eager for the new, and this -astonishing mask had a huge success. The booth grew rich, -and raised its prices, so that soon these two pirates -of the Cité sat in wonder over their gains, and Pierre -began to store up a few louis for a bad day, and for -the future of the little maid at Sèvres, where two or -three of the Sisters of the Sacred Heart had found a -new home, and taken again the charge of some of -their scattered flock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was fast learning the art of the conjurer; -but at times, sad to say, he yearned for a chance to -apply his newly acquired dexterity in ways which -were more perilous. He liked change, and had the -pleasure in risk which is common to daring men. -Indeed, he was at times so restless as to require the -urgent counsels of Pierre to keep him tranquil. -Once or twice he must needs insist on a holiday, -and went away with Toto for two days. They came -back dirty and happy, but to Pierre's relief. This -uneasy partner was now essential, and more and -more Jacobin and Royalist crowded about the booth -to get a laugh out of the sight of the face which, -appearing through the curtain with hair brushed up -and long brown beard combed down, suddenly grew -as broad as it had been long. The laugh into which -it broke was so cheery, so catching, so causeless, that -all who saw fell into fits of merriment such as were -not common in those days of danger and anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the partner appeared in front of the booth. -So many wished the man who laughed to read their -palms that Pierre declared it must be for the highest -bidder. A gay auction took place; and the winner -heard his fate slyly whispered by the voice of many -tones, or it might be that it was loudly read for the -benefit of the crowd, and, amid cries and jeers, the -victim retired with promise of a wife with a negative -dowry in some unexistent section of Paris. Or, -again, it was an elderly dame who consulted the voice -of fate. She was to have three husbands, and die -young. Then another broad hand came forth, and -on it the black poodle upright, with a handkerchief -to his eyes, and his tail adorned with crape. It was -witty, innocent, and amusing, and delighted this -Paris, which was becoming suspicious, cruel, and -grimly devilish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very soon the business in which laughter was -sold for what it would bring in laughter, and for -what men were willing to pay for an honest grin, -began to have incidents which more than satisfied -François's taste for adventure and greatly troubled -Pierre. The little room of the two conjurers had -flowers in the window, and a caged bird. These were -François's luxuries. Pierre did not care for them. -He had begun to read books about the rights of man, -and bits of "The Friend of the People," by Marat. -When François first knew him he liked to gossip -gravely of what went on, as to the changing fashions, -or as to the new "baptism" of the streets, but of the -serious aspect of the tumbling monarchy was not -inclined to speak. At times, too, he let it be seen -that he was well educated; but beyond this, François -still learned nothing of his past. One evening -François, gaily whistling, and with Toto after him, -turned the knob of their chamber door. There was some -resistance. He called, "Pierre!" and the door yielded. -He went in. Two candles were burning on their -little dining-table. Facing him, in a chair, sat the -Crab, Quatre Pattes, the spine bent forward, the -head tilted up to get sight of Pierre, who was -leaning against the wall back of the door. Her eyes, -a dusky red, were wide open to enlarge the view -which the bend of her back limited. The beak -between them was purple. Her mouth, grim and -lipless, was set in deep, radiating wrinkles, and the -toothless gums were moving as if she were chewing. -Her two wrists rested on the curved handles of her -short canes, and her outstretched hands, lean, eager, -and deformed, were moving like the claws of some -ravenous creature of the jungle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François looked from her to his partner, Despard. -He was standing as if flattened, his eyes upon the -woman, his palms, outspread, set hard on the wall -behind him, a pitiful image of alarm and hatred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span>" cried François, "what is all this? -What does this she-devil want?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Want! I want money, vagabond thief! I saw -thee in the booth yesterday. We are honest, are -we? And I know him, too. Him!" and she pointed -at Pierre, who murmured:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kill her! Take her away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François laughed. "Out of this, hag!" and -he laughed again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know that man," she cried. "</span><em class="italics">Sacré</em><span>, but he is -scared, the coward! I remind him of old times. He -must pay—pay, or I will fetch the police. He knows -me. Out with the money! Empty your pockets!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François shouted: "What, Mother Puzzlebones, -dost thou think to scare an old dog of the Cité? Art -fit to be mother-in-law of Satan. Out with thee! -Out of this, I say! Here is to buy flesh to cover thy -rattlebone carcass." He threw two francs before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Crab stood up, and beat with her sticks on the -table. "No francs! It is gold I will have—red -louis, or I will set the police on thee, and on the fat -fool yonder. I will find that girl of his. She must -be fit to sell by this time. A beauty was her mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kill her! Kill her!" said Pierre, wrath in his -words, fear in their tremor. Of a sudden he seized -a stool, and, mad with some memory of wrong, -leaped forward. The Crab faced him with courage, -as François tore away the stool, and pushed him -back. "No murder here. Keep quiet, idiot! And -as to thee, thou gutter Crab, out of this!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon this, Toto set up a dismal howl, and made -at the old woman. A rousing whack from her stick -sent him howling under the bed, where he sat -pensive. Then she turned on François.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here," she said; "thou hast some sense. -That ass has none. Let us talk. Thou canst give -me money or let it alone. You both know me. A -word to the police, and up goes the little show."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very likely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then make a bargain. Pay me, and I hold my -tongue. No use to call me names."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, let us have peace, and talk," said François. -This threat of the Crab as to the officers of the law -might not be vain; she was quite too well informed; -and there was Pierre, white and furious. François -foresaw tragedy; comedy was more to his taste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What wilt thou have, Quatre Pattes? We are -poor. Why threaten thy old lodger?" He was -eager to get her away, in order to understand -matters. Too much was dark. Pierre said no more, -but stood staring, angry and yet afraid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A louis a week," cried the Crab.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense! These good geese would soon die -of starvation, and then no more golden eggs. Here -are ten francs. Each week thou shalt have five."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Nom de Dieu!</em><span>" groaned Pierre; "and to kill her -were so easy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for thee, coward!" shouted the Crab, -knocking her sticks together for emphasis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kill her!" said Pierre, faintly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense!" said François. "Come to the booth -for it, Crab; not here, mind you, not here—not a -sou here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Adieu, my jolly bankers," cried the hag. "For -the day this will do; then we shall see." With this, -the sticks rattled on the tiled floor, and she pattered -out of the door, which François shut after her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Behold us, netted like larks!" he said, and broke -into a laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not a thing to laugh at," said Pierre, the -sweat rolling down his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; perhaps not. Let us take counsel. But -what troubled thee? Shall a crippled old woman -ruin two strong men?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre groaned, and let his face fall on his palms, -making no reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, my friend?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot tell thee now. It were useless; it would -not help. God has made the little one safe—safe. -One of these days I may have the courage to tell -thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His natural reticence and some too dreadful past -combined to keep him silent. François was puzzled. -He knew the man to be a coward; but his timidity, -followed by this sudden outbreak of murderous fury, -was inexplicable; nor did he comprehend it fully -until later events revealed to him, as he looked back -at this scene, the nature of the morbid changes which -his partner's character had already begun to feel. -"What does it all mean?" he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ask me no more," said Despard. "Not now—not -now. She cannot hurt me or mine. It is hate, -not fear, I have. But thou? Why didst thou pay?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For good enough reasons," said François; "but -I can take care of myself." He was by no means -sure of this. Nevertheless, he laughed as usual, and -said: "Let us have supper; I cannot think when I -am empty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No more was said. They ate in silence, and then -Pierre turned to his "L'Ami du Peuple," and -François to a pipe and to his thoughts. Must he give up -the booth, and wander? He knew the Crab well -enough to fear her. The price of her silence would -rise, and to deny her would bring about disaster. -He began to wish he had been honest. It was too -late now; but France was large, and, after all, he -could laugh at his own embarrassment. There was -time to think; he had bought that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They spoke no further of the Crab; but from this -time Pierre became depressed and suspicious at every -knock on the door. Quatre Pattes came to the booth -with her usual eagerness, and if she chanced to be -full of bad brandy, and too noisy and unappeasable, -François paid her something out of his own share of -their growing profits. Had he been alone, he might -have done otherwise; but Pierre was timid, watchful, -and talked sadly of the little one at Sèvres. How -should he manage if the show came to an end? It -had not been worth much until François joined him. -Before that he had been starving himself to keep -the child in careful hands. He became increasingly -melancholy, and this especially in the early mornings. -He was apt to say at night, "A day is gone, and -nothing has happened."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was courageous, and mocked a little at the -jade Fortune. "What could happen?" And yet -this shrinking little man, fat, doleful, and full of -fears, sat heavily upon him; and there, too, was this -child whom he had never seen. </span><em class="italics">Peste</em><span>! The children -he had known at the asylum were senseless, greedy -little cattle, all of one make. Perhaps this girl at -Sèvres was no better.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ix"><span class="bold large">IX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">In which François tells the fortune of the Marquis de -Ste. Luce and of Robespierre, and has his own fortune -told, and of how Despard saw a man of whom he was -afraid.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>François was soon to be further amazed -by Pierre Despard. To the last of his life, -François remembered that day. A cool -October had stripped the king's -chestnut-trees of their glory as clean as the -king himself was soon to be shorn. The leaves were -rustling at evening across the Place Louis XV, and -covering the water of the canals. Here, of late, the -tent-booth had been set up for the benefit of the -better society, which still wore the white cockade of the -Bourbons. A merry group of the actors of the -Comédie was waiting to see François, the maker of faces. -There were Chenard of the Opéra Comique; Fleury -and Saint-Prix, whose gaiety no prison in after days -could lessen, and no fear of death abate. "Behold, -there is the great Talma," said Pierre, peeping out; -"and the aristos are many to-day. Art ready, François?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was delighted. The great Talma here, -and actually to see him—François! He had of late -been acquiring stage ambitions, and taking great -pains to improve the natural advantages of a face -quite matchless in Paris.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard peeped in again. "Yes, François; they -talk of thee, and there are many in the crowd. They -gather to see Talma. There are Jacobins, and thy -friends the aristocrats. Make thou haste. Art -ready?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes," said François. He felt it to be a great, -an unusual occasion. He had a bright idea. He -struck with a stick three times on the floor of the -booth, the traditional signal at the Théâtre Français -for the curtain to rise. A roar of applause outside -rewarded his shrewd sense of what was due to this -audience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tiens</em><span>! That is good," said La Rive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The slit in the curtain opened, and, framed in the -black drapery, appeared a face which seemed to have -come out of the canvas of Holbein. It was solemn, -and yet grotesque, strong of feature, the face, beard, -and hair white with powder; the eyes were shut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu</em><span>," said Talma, "what a mask! 'T is stern -as fate." The crowd stayed motionless and silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look! look!" said Fleury. "'T is a study. To -smile with closed eyes! Didst thou ever see a man -smile in sleep, Talma?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was pretty and odd. Little curves of mirthful -change crawled downward from the eyes over the -large, grave features; the ears moved; the eyes opened; -and a storm of liberal laughter broke up the quiet -lines of cheek and mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bravo! bravo!" cried Talma and the other -actors, while the crowd burst into a roar of applause -and responsive mirth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Angels of fun!" cried Saint-Prix, "what a face! -'T is a gargoyle come down from the roof of -St. Jacques de la Boucherie. Does it go back of nights? -I wonder what next will he do?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 55%" id="figure-139"> -<span id="t-is-a-gargoyle-come-down-from-the-roof-of-st-jacques"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""''T IS A GARGOYLE COME DOWN FROM THE ROOF OF ST. JACQUES.'"" src="images/img-067.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"''T IS A GARGOYLE COME DOWN FROM THE ROOF OF ST. JACQUES.'"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tiens</em><span>! Wait," said La Rive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The white face seen above in the slit of the black -curtain became suddenly serious, with moveless eyes -looking past the audience as if into futurity. Below -appeared two large hands, scrupulously clean, while -the man's figure remained hidden. There was -something impressive in this artful pose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fortunes, fortunes, </span><em class="italics">messieurs et dames</em><span>!" cried -Pierre. "Who will have his hand read? -</span><em class="italics">Avancez</em><span>—come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shrill voice on the outskirts of the crowd cried, -"Read Louis Capet's!" The white cockades turned -to look. "It were easy to read," said a tall Jacobin. -A gentleman in the black garments of the unprogressive -noblesse turned: "Your card, citizen, or monsieur, -as you like." The crowd was scarcely stirred by this -politely managed difference. It was the year of duels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two lads pushed forward their tutor, an abbé, as -was plain to see, although few clerics still ventured -to wear their old costume. He laughed awkwardly, -and timidly laid a fat, well-fed hand on that of -François's. The grave face of the reader of palms fell -forward to see the fateful lines. For a moment -François was silent; then the voice which came from -his stolid visage was monotonously solemn, and the -words dropped from it one by one, as if they were -the mechanical product of some machine without -interest in the results of its own action. One long, -lean forefinger traversed the abbé's palm, and paused. -"An easy life thou hast had. A woman has troubled -it." The two pupils were delighted; the crowd -laughed. "The line of life is broken—broken"—François's -hands went through the pantomime of the -snapping of a thread—"like that." The abbé drew -back, and could not be persuaded to hear further. -Again there was a pause. A grisette advanced -smiling, and was sent away charmed with the gifts a -pleasant future held in store. Pierre exhorted for -a time in vain. Presently the crowd made way. A -slight man in breeches and silk stockings came -forward; he was otherwise dressed in the extreme of the -fashion still favored by the court party, but wore no -cockade, and carried two watches, the heavy seals of -which François greatly desired to appropriate. His -uneasy eyes were covered with spectacles, and around -them his sallow complexion deepened to a dusky, -dull green. Altogether this was a singular and not a -pleasant face, or so, at least, thought the palm-reader, -a part of whose cunning was to study the expressions -of those who asked his skill. The man who laid his -hand on François's looked up at the motionless visage -of the ex-thief. François said: "Is it for the citizen -alone to hear, or for all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For me—for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François's voice fell to a low whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let the past go," said the listener; "what of the -future?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is dark. The lines are many. They are—citizen, -thou wilt be a ruler, powerful, dreaded. Thou wilt -have admiration, fame, and at last the hatred of man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I—what nonsense! Then?"—and he waited,—"then? -What then? What comes after!"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will tell thee"; and François whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No more—no more; enough of such foolishness!" He -was clearly enough disturbed by what -he had heard. "Thou must think men fools."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fate is always a fool, citizen; but the fools all -win, soon or late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That, at least, is true, Master Palmister." Then -a pair of sinister eyes, set deep behind spectacles, -sought those of François. "Thou hast a strange face, -Master Palm-reader. Dost thou believe what thou -dost make believe to read on men's palms?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sometimes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now—now?—this time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I believe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall not forget thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François felt something like a chill between his -shoulders. The Jacobin stepped aside after depositing -an ample fee in the basket which Toto presented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a murmur in the crowd. Several persons -looked with curious eyes after the retreating -man, and the conjurer heard some one say: "</span><em class="italics">Tiens! -C'est drôle</em><span>. It is Robespierre." His was at this time -not more than a well-known name. For a minute -no one else came forward. François saw Pierre slip -hastily into the tent; he knew not why. A -gentleman came up gaily. He was dressed splendidly, -with no regard for the leveling tastes of the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The deuce!" he said quickly; "you are my thief!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">De grâce</em><span>, monsieur!" exclaimed François; "you -will get me into trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I. Happy to meet you. I am myself fond -of palmistry. Come, read me my hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François bent over the palm. He began aloud: -"Ah, here have been many loves." Then his voice -fell. "Monsieur is a good swordsman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So-so," said the gentleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur has been unfortunate in his duels."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu</em><span>! Yes; I always kill people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur has one remorse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sapristi</em><span>! Thou art clever, and I lucky to have -but one. Go on; 't is vastly amusing. Shall I live -to be old? My people do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur will have troubles, but he will live to -be old—very old."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will he, indeed? I hardly like that. If I were -you, I would tell more agreeable fortunes. To -outlive the joys of life, to be left a stranded wreck, -while the world goes by gay and busy—pshaw! I -like not that. You do it well. Let me read your -own palm. I have a taste for this art."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was at once interested. The gentleman's -strong left hand took that of the thief, and with a -wandering forefinger he ran over the lines of the -palm. He let it fall, and looked downward at his -own hand. "It is strange that we shall meet again, -and in an hour of danger. You will be fortunate, -and I shall not. You will have—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tenez</em><span>, monsieur—stop!" cried François; "I will -hear no more"; and he drew his hands within the -tent-folds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! and you are really a believer in it all, my -good thief? Belief is out of fashion. I hope you did -tell that cursed Jacobin he would go to a place he -doesn't believe in, but which is a little like France -to-day. Come and see me if ever you are in trouble -and this trade comes to an end. I like men who can -laugh. 'T is a pretty talent, and rather gone out -just now. I am the Marquis de Ste. Luce—or was. -Come and laugh for me, and tell me your story." He -let fall a gold louis in Toto's basket, and elbowed his -way through the crowd, with "Pardon, monsieur," to -white cockades, and scant courtesy to the Jacobins -and the </span><em class="italics">demi-constitutionnels</em><span>, who were readily known -by their costumes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the marquis ceased to speak, François heard a -singular noise in the tent back of him. He withdrew -his head to see the cause, and a moment later, -reappearing, said he must be excused, because his friend -was ill. The crowd broke up. Within the tent lay -Pierre on the ground, in a fit. François, greatly -alarmed and utterly at a loss, threw water in his face, -and waited. In a few moments it was over, and the -man, flushed and breathing deeply, lay with red froth -on his lips, as if in a deep sleep. He was no longer -convulsed; but what further to do the partner knew -not, and sat beside him, not more competent to deal -with this novel situation than was Toto, who walked -about, and scratched his nose, and gave it up. An -hour went by with Pierre's head resting on François's lap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Despard opened his eyes. "Take him -away," he said. The man was delirious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take him away. Will he kill me? He killed -her." A half-hour he wandered in mind, while -François bathed his flushed face. Then he drew a deep -breath, and said: "What is this? Where am I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François replied: "Thou hast had a fit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fit? Yes; I have them—not often. I remember -now. Has he gone, that devil?—that marquis?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who? Ste. Luce? Was it he that troubled thee?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; he."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By and by Pierre sat up. Seeing him to be quite -himself, but staring about as if in fear, François -said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, now; I must have the whole story. What -the mischief has this fine gentleman done to thee? -I am out of patience with thy tiresome mysteries. I -know him; we have met before. Perhaps I can help -thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre lay back on the floor, and covered his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span>" he cried, "why wilt thou force me to -talk of it? Oh, to hate, and to be afraid!" He -started up. "I am afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I hated a man," said François, "</span><em class="italics">sacré bleu</em><span>! I -would twist his neck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I could! if I could! I am not like thee. I -am—am a coward. That's the truth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span> that is curious." He regarded the fat -little man with attentive eyes. "Suppose we have -it all out, and get done with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Done with it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; done with it! Hast thou often had these -fits before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; and then I am better for a while."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me all about this man. I will take care of thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; God did not: thou canst not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we must separate. I am tired of thy nonsense, -and I do not care a rap how soon this business -ends, what with your cursed melancholy and that -jade Quatre Pattes. Now, out with it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre, seated on the floor of the booth, red-eyed -and dejected, looked up piteously at his questioner. -"If I tell thee all, thou wilt despise me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I. Go on! If thou canst speak out like a -man, I may be able to help thee; but if thou art of a -mind to hold thy tongue, it were better we parted. I -am tired of thy folly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus urged, Pierre told his story, reluctant, with -bowed head, and at times in tears. François sat over -him on a stool, now and then asking a question, or -waiting patiently when Pierre, choked by overmastering -emotions, was silent for a while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been unhappy and unlucky from the time -I can first remember," said Pierre. "My people -belonged to the lesser noblesse, but my father was -poor—oh, very poor. We had been ruined folks away -there in Normandy for half a century, only a bit of -farm and vineyard left to us. My mother was of the -bourgeoisie, foolish and pretty. She died young, and -I was left the only child. My father treated me ill. I -had no courage, he said. It was true. As I grew up, I -was timid like a girl, and fearful of quarrels. When -I was about twenty years old I had a trouble with a -brother of this marquis. He struck me with his whip -because of something I said. My father learned that -I had excused myself, and was wild with rage. It -was my bourgeois mother, he said; we had lost all -but honor, and now that too was gone. He died not -long after, and I, with a few hundred francs, was -driven out to care for myself. The marquis had a -mortgage on the farm. I went to a village near by, -and lived awhile as I could until I was down to my -lust sou. I worked like a peasant in the fields; I was -the servant at an inn. At last a mountebank -company attracted me, and in despair I went with them -to take care of the horses which served them in their -performances. By and by I learned sleight of hand, -and fared better. At last I married a girl who danced -in our company. She was pretty,—oh, more than -pretty,—and clever, too. When we came again to -our town, a notary offered me a petty clerk's place, -and I was well contented to settle down. My wife -was too eager for the society of the bourgeoisie, and -they would have none of that of the dancing-girl. -Then, unhappily, this marquis saw my wife, and how -I know not, but his fine clothes and cunning were too -much for one who was eager for a society she could -not have. I was busy, and often absent collecting -small debts. No one warned me. I was satisfied, -and even put by a little money.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was a woman in the village, Mme. Quintette, -a dressmaker, a shameless creature of bad life. She -might have been then some fifty years old. 'T is now -twelve years ago. At her house the marquis met my -wife. One day my Renée was gone, and this Quintette -with her. It is she who is this Quatre Pattes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The deuce!" cried François. "Now I see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"More than a year went by. Thou wouldst have -killed the man. I could not. I am a coward, François—a -coward! God made me so; I can't help it. One day -an infant was brought to my door, with a note. </span><em class="italics">Mon -Dieu</em><span>, such a note! The dying mother in the hospital -with her last money paid a good sister to take the -child to me—to me, of all men! And would I -pardon her? François, it was that devil's babe and hers. -Would I forgive her, and keep it? Wouldst thou -have kept it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said François; "not I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did! I did! It was like her, all but the eyes. -I grew to love it. Then there was an accident, a fall, -and the little maid is crippled for life. It seemed -horrible, but now I thank God, because she is safe -from the baseness of men. I wanted to die, but I must -live; she has no other friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François sat still, pitiful, and deep in thought. At -last he said: "Why were you so terribly afraid of -that woman? She could do no worse than ruin our -business."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—hast thou ever been afraid thou wouldst -murder some one? I was. I would have done it in a -minute hadst not thou come in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sac à papier</em><span>! Afraid of thyself! How queer! -Thou wert afraid of thyself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I am—I was—I am often afraid of myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us forget it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot. What can I do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do? Nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that man—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, thou art helpless. I should not be. Forget. -Thy chance may come." He was at the end of his -wisdom. He pitied this weak-hearted coward who so -frankly avowed his defect. "We will speak of it no -more, Pierre, or not now. But what brought you to -Paris? Let us have it all, and get done with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My poor little humpback was hardly six years old -when she came to me, crying, to know why the village -children would not play with her. She was a -humpback and a bastard. What was 'bastard'? I have -always fled from trouble. One day I took the child -and what little I had, and was away to Paris. God -knows how it hurt me to hear every evening how she -had been mocked and tormented; one is so foolishly -tender. In this great city I sought work, and starved. -And when at last she was fading before my eyes, I -stole—my God, I stole!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! thou art particular. Must a man starve?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I got money out of a full purse I took, I set -up our little business, and then I found thee. And -this is all. I dare say I shall feel better to have told -some one. I did not want to steal. I did not steal -after I began with the booth, unless I was in need—oh, -sorely in need. It was so on that fortunate day -when I was saved by thee. In thy place I should -have kept the old fishwife's purse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And let me swing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—perhaps; I don't know. I—it is well for -me thou wert not a coward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sacristie</em><span>! It appears that not to be a coward has -its uses. Now </span><em class="italics">bon jour</em><span> and adieu to the whole of this -business. Let the miserable past go. 'T is bad -company, and not amusing. Have no fear; I will take -care of thee. Come, let us go home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou wilt look about a little before we go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Toto, he is mad, this man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I sometimes think I am. At night, in my dreams, -I have him by the throat, and he laughs, and I cannot -hold him. I wake up, and curse in the darkness -because I cannot kill him. And then I know it is a debt -never to be paid—never."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François had had enough of the small man's griefs. -Contempt and pity were strangely mingled as he -listened to his story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall let thee talk no more," he said. "But </span><em class="italics">mille -tonnerres</em><span>! I cannot help thee to go mad. Let us go -and wander in the country to-morrow, thou and I and -Toto. It will comfort thee. But no more of this; I -will not stand it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The advice was wholesome, and, as usual, Pierre -accepted the orders of his more sturdy-minded friend.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="x"><span class="bold large">X</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">How Pierre became a Jacobin and how a nation became -insane.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Although the marquis was not again -upon the scene, as the months went -by Despard became by degrees more -gloomy. At night, in place of the gay -little café, he went out to the club of -the Jacobins, and fed full of its wild declamations -against the </span><em class="italics">émigrés</em><span> and the aristocrats. It amused -François, who saw no further ahead than other men. -Despard came home loaded with gazettes and pamphlets, -and on these he fed his excitement long after -his partner was asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When, as time went by, Pierre's vagaries increased, -François found in them less subject for mirth. The -fat little man sat up later and later at night. At -times he read; at others he walked about muttering, -or moving his lips without uttering a sound. What -disturbed François most was that the poodle now and -then showed fear of Pierre, and would no longer obey -him as he had been used to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, as Pierre still attended sedulously to -business, François could find no fault. He himself -had become devoted to his art of palm-reading. He -bought at the stalls old books, Latin and French, -which treated of the subject, and tried to keep up the -name his odd ways had made so profitable. Deceit -was a part of his working capital; but deceit and -credulity are apt to go together, as a great man has -well said. Not for many louis would the conjurer -have let any one read again the lines of his own hand. -When Despard began to teach him the little he -himself knew of palmistry, it had caused interest, and -after a while a half-belief. This grew as he saw the -evident disturbance to which the use of his art gave -rise in certain of those who at first appeared to look -upon it as an idle jest. The imaginative have need -to be wary, and this man was imaginative, and had -the usual notions of the gambler and thief as to omens -and luck. I have said he had no definite working -conscience. I have also said that he possessed an -inborn kindness of heart; he had a long memory for -benefits, and a short one for injuries. His courage -was of fine quality: not even Quatre Pattes could -terrify him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The politics of the time were becoming month by -month more troublous to such as kept their heads -steady in the amazing tumble of what for centuries -had been on top, and the rise of that which had been -as long underneath. The increasing interest of Pierre -in all that went on surprised François, and sometimes, -as I have said, amused him. He could not comprehend -why he should care whether the king ruled, or the -Assembly. This mighty drama was nothing to him. -He paid no taxes; he toiled not, nor spun, except nets -of deceit; and whether or not commerce died and the -plow stood idle in the furrow was to him of no moment. -Meanwhile, before the eyes of a waiting, wondering -world historic fate was shuffling the cards as neither -war nor misrule had shifted them for many a day. -Knave and king, spade and club, were now up, now -down. Every one was in a new place. The old surnames -were replaced by classical appellations. Streets, -palaces, and cities were rebaptized with prenominal -republican adjectives. Burgundy, Anjou, Navarre, -and the other ancient provinces, knew no more their -great names heroically famous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All men were to be equal; all men were free to be -what they could. But the freedom of natural or -acquired inequality was not to be recognized. There -were new laws without end. The Jacobin added a -social creed. All men must </span><em class="italics">tutoyer</em><span>. "Your Majesty" -was no more to be used. Because the gentles said -"thou" and "thee" to one another and to an inferior, -all men must "thou" as a sign that all are on a level.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bit of paper was to be five francs—and take care -of thy head if thou shouldst venture to doubt its value. -As to all else, men accepted the numberless and -bewildering decrees of the Assembly. But the laws of -commerce no ruler can break. These are despotic, -changeless, and as old as the act of barter between -man and man. The assignats fell in value until two -hundred francs would scarce buy a dinner. There, -too, was a new navy and a new army, with confusing -theories of equal rights for sailor, soldier, and captain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A noble desire arose everywhere to exercise the new -functions. What joy to cast a ballot, to act the part -of officials, to play at soldiering! All the cross dogs -in France are unchained and the muzzles off; and -some are bloodhounds. What luxury to be judge, -jury, and hangman, like the noble of long ago!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even childhood caught the temper of the time. It -played at being officer and prisoner, built and tore -down bastilles, and at last won attention and a law all -to itself when some young ruffians hung one of their -number in good earnest for an aristocrat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However indifferent was François at this time, the -shifting drama amused him as some monstrous -burlesque might have done. Its tragedies were as yet -occasional, and he was by nature too gay to be long -or deeply impressed. There was none he loved in -peril, and how to take care of François his life had -taught him full well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Allons zi gaiement!</em><span>" he cried, in the tongue of his -old quarter; and kept a wondering, anxious eye on -Pierre.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xi"><span class="bold large">XI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">The juggling firm of Despard, François & Co. is broken -up—Despard goes into politics, and François becomes -a fencing-master.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>January, 1791, François, having of late -found business slack, had moved to the -open </span><em class="italics">place</em><span> in front of the Palais Royal. -He had taught Toto new tricks—to -shoulder a musket and to die </span><em class="italics">pour la -patrie</em><span>. Time was telling men's fortunes quite too fast -for comfort. Neither his old devices nor Toto's -recently acquired patriotism was of much avail. -Moreover, Pierre was losing interest in the booth as he -became absorbed in politics.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou wilt not go to thy </span><em class="italics">sacré</em><span> club, Pierre," said -François, one night late in February. "Here are two -days thou hast left us, the patriot Toto and me, to feed -thee and make sous for the poor little maid at Sèvres."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is not at Sèvres."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not? Thou hast not said a word to me of this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I had more important matters to think of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François, who was tranquilly smoking his pipe, -looked up at his partner. The man had lately worn -a look of self-importance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sisters are aristocrats. A good </span><em class="italics">citoyenne</em><span> hath -her. I shall give up the show. The country calls me, -Pierre Despard, to save her. The great Robespierre -hath asked me to go into Normandy, to Musillon, -whence I came. I am to organize clubs of Jacobins." He -spoke with excitement, striding to and fro. He -declared that he was not afraid now of any one. To -serve France was to have courage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how as to money?" asked François.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said his expenses would be paid by the clubs. -Barnave, Duport, and the deputies of the Right must -be taught a lesson. There must be no more kings. -The people must rule—the people! He declaimed -wildly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Fichtre!</em><span>" cried François, laughing. "It does seem -to me that they rule just now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre went on with increasing excitement; and -would not François go with him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go with thee? Thou sayest we shall be deputies -in the new Convention. A fine thing that! And -Toto too, I suppose? Not I. I am an aristocrat. I -like not thy Robespierre. As to the show, it pays no -longer, and I have greased the claws of the Crab until -there is no more grease left. I shall take to the streets, -Toto and I. And so thou art to be a great man, and -to play poodle on thy hind legs for Pétion and the mob?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre was offended. He rose and stood glaring at -François with wide-open eyes; then he said, as if to -himself: "The marquis is near Evreux. Let him -take heed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu</em><span>! He will eat thee as he would the frogs -of his moat, that man! I am not of those who fear, -but if I had angered him—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have named him to the great Robespierre, the -just, the good. He will remember him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then go; and the devil take the whole lot of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall go. But do not say thou art an aristocrat, -for then I must hate thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Grand merci</em><span>! Thou poor, fat little pug, canst thou -hate?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, as hell hates." Upon this Toto took refuge -under his master's bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François rose, and, standing in front of the flushed, -fat little man, set a hand on each of Pierre's shoulders -and stopped his excited march.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot understand thee. I never could contrive -to hate even a gendarme, and if hell hates, I know not. -Thou art helpless as a turtle that is on his back. What -use to kick? No; do not answer me. Hear me out. -I shall go my way—thou thy way. I served thee a -good turn once, and thou hast helped me to a living. -Now I like not thy ways; thou art going mad, -I think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps—perhaps," returned Pierre, gloomily. -"Well, </span><em class="italics">c'est fini</em><span>—'t is done. Now to settle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They divided their spare cash; and after that Pierre -went to his club, and François to bed and a dreamless -sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the morning he rose early, left his share of the -rent on the table, and with a little bag of clothes, and -Toto after him, walked away across the Seine, and soon -found a small room under the roof. He paid in -advance the customary </span><em class="italics">denier à Dieu</em><span>, and settled down -to think.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 55%" id="figure-140"> -<span id="he-paid-in-advance-the-customary-denier-a-dieu"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HE PAID IN ADVANCE THE CUSTOMARY DENIER À DIEU."" src="images/img-087.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HE PAID IN ADVANCE THE CUSTOMARY DENIER À DIEU."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was tired of the show, and meant to resume his -old trade. His conscience, or so much as he had, was -at peace; all France was plundering. Now the nobles -were robbed, and now the church.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The world is on my side," he laughed, as he sat -with Toto on his knees, looking over a wide prospect -of chimney-pots and tiles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus began again the life of the thief; but now, -thanks to his long training as a juggler, he was -amazingly expert. He took no great risks, but the frequent -tumults of the streets were full of chances, although -it must be said that purses were thinner, watches and -gold snuff-boxes rarer, and caution less uncommon -than it had once been. If business prospered, he and -Toto took long holidays in the country, and did a little -hunting of rabbits; for the gamekeeper was no longer -a person to be dreaded. Sometimes, lying on the turf, -he thought how pleasant would be a bit of garden, and -assurance of good diet and daily work to his taste. I -fear it would scarcely have been long to his taste. -When something like a chance came, he could not -make up his mind to accept the heaven-sent offer. -He was to see many things and suffer much before his -prosperous hour arrived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One fine day in April, François, with whom of late -fortune had quarreled, was seated in the sun on a -bench in the now ill-tended garden of the Luxembourg. -The self-made difficulties of the country were affecting -more and more the business of the honest, and of that -uncertain guild which borrows but never returns. -He had a way of taking Toto into his counsels. -"What shall we do, little devil?" The poodle barked. -"No. These accursed Jacobins are ruining France. -What, knock a man on the head at night! Bad dog, -hast thou no morals? </span><em class="italics">Va donc</em><span>! Go to. Thou hast -not my close experience of the lantern, and stone -walls for a home I like not. Work, thou sayest? -Too late; there is work for no one nowadays. Thou -wilt end badly, little monster."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Toto whined, and having no more to say, fell asleep. -At this moment François, looking up, saw go by a -young woman in black, and with her a boy of perhaps -ten years. On the farther side was a tall, well-dressed -man of middle age, whom, as he was looking away, -François did not recognize. Some bright thing fell -unnoticed from the woman's wrist, and lay in the sun. -"Hist, Toto! Look there—quick!" In a moment the -dog was away, and back again, with a small miniature -set in gold and surrounded by pearls. It was the -portrait of a young officer. François hastily put it back -into the dog's mouth, saying: "Go to sleep! Down! down -quickly!" The dog, well taught, accepted the -trust, and dropped as if in slumber, his head on his -paws, while his master studied the weathercocks on -the old gray palace. A moment later both the man -and the woman turned to look for the lost miniature. -Then François saw that it was his old acquaintance -the marquis. He had more than once seen him in -the garden, where he was fond of walking; but the -great seigneur had passed him always without notice. -The boy ran back ahead of his grandfather, and -coming to François, said innocently:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur, have you seen a little picture madame -let fall? It is so big, and I saw it only just now on -her wrist. Please to help us to look for it. It is my -father; he is dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the boy came the woman, looking here and -there on the gravel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame de Dieu!</em><span> she is beautiful," murmured -François; "and that </span><em class="italics">sacré</em><span> marquis!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The voice he heard was sweet and low, and tender -with regret at her loss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has monsieur chanced to see a little miniature?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Monsieur was troubled, but his pocket and stomach -were both empty. Monsieur was distressed. He had -seen no miniature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next came the marquis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ho, ho!" he said pleasantly. "Here is the -citizen my thief again. Have you seen a small -miniature?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François had not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Diable</em><span>! 'T is a pity, monsieur. Well, pardon a -</span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> marquis, but I do think monsieur knows a -little too much of that miniature for his eternal -salvation. Also, monsieur does not lie as well as might be -expected from one in his line of life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François rose. He was embarrassed as he saw the -tearful face of the woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was about to say I would look—I would search."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ste. Luce smiled. "Suppose we begin with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have it not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, but where is it? I am not a man to be -trifled with. Come, quick, or I must ask the -gendarmes yonder for a bit of help."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François looked at him. There was menace in those -cold gray eyes. Should he trust to his own long legs? -At this instant he heard a sob, and glancing to the -right, saw the woman seated on the bench with her -face in her hands, the little fellow at her side saying: -"Do not cry, mama; the gentleman will help us." The -gentleman was ill clothed and seedy. He had -seen women cry, but they were not like this woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"M. le Marquis does me injustice. Permit that my -dog and I search a little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis smiled again. "</span><em class="italics">Pardieu!</em><span> and if you -search, and meanwhile take a fancy to run, your legs -are long; but now I have you. How the deuce can I -trust a thief?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little lad looked up. "I will go with monsieur -to look—and the dog; we will find it, mama."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur may trust me; I will not run away," said -François. "If monsieur desires to search me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not search thieves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François looked at this strangely quiet gentleman -with the large, light-gray, unpleasant eyes, and then -at the woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Toto; we must take a look."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis stood still, quietly watching thief, dog, -and boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Renée," he said, "don't make a fool of yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then from a distance the boy cried, "We found it, -mama!" and ran to meet her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis took it as François rejoined the group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Master Thief, you are clever; but it is a little -wet, this trifle, and warm too. The dog had it all the -while in his mouth. He is well taught. Why the -deuce did you give it up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy began to understand this small drama. He -had the courage of his breed, and the training.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you dare to steal my mama's picture?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; when she let it fall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know now why you were glad to give it back. -It was because she cried."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; it was because she cried."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Venire St. Gris!" exclaimed the marquis, who was -pleased to swear like Henry of Navarre. "You are a -poor devil for a thief. You have temptations to be -good. I never have them myself. I thank Heaven -I have reasonably well used my opportunities to be -agreeably wicked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father!" said the young woman, reproachfully; -and then to François: "If you are a thief, still I -thank you; I cannot tell you how much I thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how many louis do you expect, most magnanimous -of thieves?" said the marquis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman looked up again. "Come to me to-morrow; -I will find a way to help you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something of yearning, some sense of a void, some -complexity of novel distress, arose in the thief's mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span> madame," he said, turning toward her, -without replying to the marquis, "you are a saint. -I—I will think. I am not fit for such as you to -talk to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite true," said the marquis. "Hast thou thy -purse, Renée? I forgot mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," she said. "Come and see us—Rue des -Petits-Augustines—a great house with a gilded gate. -You will come? I will say they are to let you in. -Promise me that you will come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And bring that poodle," added the marquis; "I -will buy him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François laughed outright—that merry laugh which -half Paris had learned to like, till Paris tired of it and -of its owner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur will pardon me. I cannot sell my only -friend. Good day." And he walked away, the boy -crying after him: "You will come? Oh, you must -come, because my mama says so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis muttered: "</span><em class="italics">Animal</em><span>! If I had your -carcass—no, if I had had you awhile ago in -Normandy, your manners would have been bettered. But -now the world is upside down. He will come, Renée. -If thou art quit of him for two hundred francs and a -few lost spoons, thou mayest rest thankful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François moved moodily away. Something was -wrong in his world; an angel coming into his crude -life would not have disturbed him as this lady's few -kind words had done, and yet he had left her -unanswered. He knew he had been a fool, but knew not -why. He had, too, a notion that he and this marquis -would meet again, but for this he was not eager. He -recalled the palm-reading. Had the woman been -alone, he would probably have said a glad "Yes"; -but now his inclinations to obey her were sadly diluted -by feelings which he did not analyze, or perhaps could -not have analyzed. He did not accept the hand thus -stretched out to save him, but for many a day her -tender eagerness and the pleading face which had so -attracted him came before him at times with a look of -reproach. Is it strange that this glimpse of a nobler -nature and a better life than his own should have -had an influence on this man quite the reverse of -that which its good will sought to effect? He cannot -be said to have been refined, but he had in him tastes -which are the germs of refinement, and which, when -I knew him, had no doubt produced results. Probably -he was in 1791 a coarser person, but he must -always have been a man who could be forced by -circumstances to think.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It may have been that the sense of a great gulf -between him and a world he was by nature inclined to -like caused one of those rare spells of despair to -which the gay and over-sanguine are liable. Of course -he had seen and for brief seasons shared the profligacy -of the Cité,—his memoirs confess this with absolute -frankness,—but these gross lapses had been rare and -brief. Now he plunged headlong into the worst -vileness of the most dissolute quarter, where few lived -who were not saturated with crime. I have no desire -to dwell on this part of his life. A month passed -away, and he was beginning to suffer in health. This -amazed him. He had not hitherto known a pang save -that of hunger. He began to drink </span><em class="italics">eau-de-vie</em><span> to -relieve his sense of impaired strength, and being off his -guard and under the influence of the temporary mood -of rashness which drink is apt to cause, he twice -narrowly escaped arrest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under the vivid impression thus created he was -wandering homeward late at night to some low resort -in the Cité, when in the Rue aux Fèves he heard a cry -in front of him. The moon was bright, and he saw a -man set upon by two fellows. The person assailed -was staggering from the blow of a club, and fell with -the cry which the thief heard. Both bandits threw -themselves upon him, and, as he unwisely struggled, -François saw the glitter of a knife. Clearly this was -no easy prey. As the three tumbled over in the mud -of the street there was small chance for a decisive use -of the blade. François, as I have said, had been -always free from crimes of violence, but this affair was -none of his business, and had his pocket been full he -might have left the ruffians and their prey unmolested. -His purse, however, was down to the last sou, and -here was a chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He called, "Catch them, Toto!" and, leaping -forward, seized one of the men by the throat and threw -him on his back. The poodle took a good nip of the -other rascal's leg, and when the man broke away and, -stumbling, ran, pursued him until recalled by François's -whistle. Meanwhile the assaulted man sat up, a bit -dazed. The other fellow—it was he of the knife—was -on his feet again, and at once turned furiously on -the rescuer. François darted to one side, and, -catching him by the neck, throttled him savagely. His -great length of arm made it impossible for the scamp, -who was short and strong, to reach any vital organ. -But he stabbed François's shoulder over and over. -François's grip on the throat was weakening, when -the victim, now on his feet, struck the man under the -ear, and thus knocked him clean out of François's -failing grip. He fell headlong, but was up and away in -a moment, while a crowd began to collect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hi! it is François!" some one cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quick!" said the thief. "Room there! Let us -get out of this." Seizing the man he had saved, he -hustled his way through the crowd and hurried him -toward the bridge. In a few minutes they were -standing alone by the river, amid the tombs back of Notre -Dame. Then the man spoke:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Heaven! thou hast saved my life. Hallo! thou -art bleeding. Here!" and he tied a handkerchief -about his shoulder. "We shall be in luck to find a -chaise. Wait!" and he ran away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François's head was dizzy. He sat on a tombstone, -well sobered now, but bleeding freely. It was long -before he heard a horse; and when in the chaise, -where Toto promptly followed him, he fell back, and -knew little more until they stopped in the Rue -St. Honoré. Here his new acquaintance got out, and -soon returned with a glass of </span><em class="italics">eau-de-vie</em><span>. With this -aid, and the arm of his host, François was able to -reach a large room in the second story. He fell on a -couch, and lay still while the other man ran out to -find a surgeon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On his arrival, François was put to bed in an -adjoining room, and for two weeks of care and good -diet had leave to meditate on the changeful chances of -this wretched world. For a while he was too weak to -indulge his customary keenness of curiosity. His -host, M. Achille Gamel, paid him brief visits, and was -singularly unwilling to talk one day, and the next -sufficiently so for the patient to learn that he had been -in the army as a </span><em class="italics">maître d'armes</em><span>, and was now, in his -own opinion, the best fencing-master in France. -Through the partitions could be heard the click, click -of the foils, and now and then the crack of pistols. -After a fortnight François's wounds were fairly -healed, and he began to get back his rosy complexion -and his unfailing curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One pleasant evening in June, Gamel appeared as -usual. It was one of his days of abrupt speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Art well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art soon mended."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes." His brevity begot a like form of answer, -and François was now somewhat on his guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I pay my debts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is true."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now thou art well, what wilt thou do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I—I shall go away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didst thou help me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My pocket and paunch were empty. It seemed a chance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thy two reasons are good. Who art thou?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is every one in the Cité? A thief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Diable!</em><span> but thou art honest—in speech at least."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sometimes. I was a conjurer too—for a while."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, I remember now. Thou art the fellow -with a laugh. I see not yet why thou hast helped me. -Thou mightest easier have helped the rascals and -shared their gains."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François began to be interested, and laughed a -laugh which was the most honest of his possessions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dislike clumsiness in my profession," he said. -"Why should the brutality of war be brought into a -peaceful occupation?" He was half in earnest, half -in jest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is a third reason, and a good one." It was -difficult to surprise Gamel. "Suppose we talk -business," he added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine or thine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine. A moment, Citizen François—permit me. -Pray stand up a moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François rose as the fencing-master produced a -tape-measure. "Permit me," and with no more words -he set one end of the tape on François's shoulder and -carried the length of it to his finger-tips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François stood still, wondering what it all meant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The deuce!" said Gamel, slowly rolling up the -measuring-tape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what is it? What is wrong?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wrong? Nothing. It is astonishing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This arm of thine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is one and a half inches longer than mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A gift! To have the longest arm in Paris! </span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fortune! Phenomenal! Superb! And a chest—and -muscles! By Hercules, they are as hard as horn!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Diable</em><span>! Thou art dull for a thief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François had a high opinion of himself. He said: -"Perhaps. What next?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I need help. I will teach thee to fence and to -shoot. Canst thou be honest? I ask not if thou art."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can I? I do not know. I have never tried very -long." Then he paused. To fence like a gentleman, -to handle a sword, had its temptations. "Try me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good! Canst thou be a Jacobin to-day and a -Royalist to-morrow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The messieurs and their kind fence here in the -morning; after our breakfast come the Jacobins about -two. I ask not thy politics."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" said François, who was the frankest -of men—"why not? I am an aristocrat. I am at -the top of my profession. I like naturally the folks -who are on top."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"France is like a ball now, no top, no bottom, rolling. -Let us be serious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span> that is difficult. I want to quit thieving. -It doesn't pay at present. I accept the citizen's offer. -Does it include my dog?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed! Toto—a treasure! He will delight -our pupils."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good! He must have a little sword and wear a -white cockade till noon, and then a tricolor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And will five francs a week suffice until thou art -fit to teach? And thy board and lodging—that goes -without saying. After a while we will talk again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T is a fortune!" said François; and upon this -agreement the pair fell to chatting about the details of -their future work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One moment," said François, as Gamel rose. -"What are thy own politics?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will tell thee when I can trust thee," said the -fencing-master. "Now they vary with the clock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see. But I have told thee mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou wert rash. I am not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François laughed merrily, "Good night." He was -happy to be at rest, well fed, and with something to -do which involved no risk. Gamel went away, and -François fell to talking to the poodle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Toto! Sit up, my sleepy friend! Attention! -What dost thou think of M. Achille Gamel?" The -poodle had been taught when questioned to put his -head on one side, which gave him an air of intelligent -consideration. "Ah, thou dost think he is as long-legged -as I! Any fool of a cur can see that. What else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has great teeth—big—the better to eat thee, -my dear! Curly hair, like thine, and as black; a -nose—of course he has a nose, Toto. Art perplexed, little -friend? Oh, that is it! I see. Thou art right. He -smiles; he never laughs. 'T is that bothered thee. -Thou dost like him? Yes. Thou art not sure? Nor -I. We must laugh for two. The bones are good -here. That is past doubt. We will stay, and we will -keep our eyes open. And listen now, Toto. We are -honest. Good! Dost thou understand? No more -purses, or out we go. No stealing of cutlets. Ah, -thou mayest lick thy chops in vain, bandit!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days later Gamel began to fence with François, -who liked it well. He was strong, agile, and like -his old friends the cats for quickness of foot. Gamel -was charmed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must make no mistakes. The foil held -lightly—so, so! If you grasp it too strongly you will not -feel the other's blade. That is better. 'T is the -fingers direct the point. Thy hand a little higher—so, so!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They fenced before the pupils came and in the -intervals when none was on hand. François was tireless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was June now, and Robespierre was the public -prosecutor, with Pétion at his side. Gamel read aloud -the announcement with a coldly stern face. François -heard it with indifference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tiens!</em><span>" he cried. "What matters it? </span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>" as -he lunged at the wall, "I do believe my arm is an inch -longer." He was thinking, as he tried over and over -a new guard, of what a queer education he had had. -Gamel walked away into his own room. He was a -man who often liked to be alone. Apt to be -monosyllabic with his pupils, he could at times become -seriously talkative at night over a pipe and a glass. -François began to like him, and to suspect that he in -turn was liked—a matter not indifferent to this poor -devil, who had himself an undeveloped talent for -affection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon ami</em><span>, Toto! Let us think. I might have been -a priest. What an escape! Or a great chorister. -That is another matter. A thief, a street-dog, a -juggler, a </span><em class="italics">maître d'escrime</em><span>. </span><em class="italics">Parbleu</em><span>! What next? We -are getting up in the world. My palm, little rascal? -Thou wouldst read it. Ah, bad dog, not I! Let us -to bed; come along. It seems too good to last."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xii"><span class="bold large">XII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">In which Toto is seen to change his politics twice a -day—the mornings and the afternoons quarrel—In which -Jean Pierre André Amar, "le farouche," appears.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The fencing-master took great pains with -his promising </span><em class="italics">débutant</em><span>, and now at last -thought he could trust him to give -lessons. He gave him much advice, full -of good sense. He must dress simply, -not in any marked fashion. And here were the two -cockades, and two for Toto, who was fitted with a toy -sword, and had been taught to howl horribly if François -said, "Citizen Capet," and to do the like if he -cried, "Aristocrat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François, gay and a little anxious, followed Gamel -for the first time during the lesson-hours into the -</span><em class="italics">salle d'armes</em><span>. Toto came after them in full rig, with -a cap and a huge white cockade. A dozen gentlemen, -most of them young, were preparing to fence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The poodle was greeted with "Bravo!" and strutted -about on his hind legs with evident enjoyment of the -approval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait here," said Gamel to François. "I will by -and by give thee a chance." François had, of course, -been constantly in the room when the patrons were -absent, and it was now familiar. It had been part of -the old hotel of some extinct nobleman, and was of -unusual height, and quite forty feet square, with tall -windows at each end; a cushioned bench ran around -the walls, and above it hung wire masks, foils, sabers, -and a curious collection of the arms of past ages and -barbarous tribes. Chiefly remarkable were the many -fine blades, Spanish or Eastern. At the side of the -hall, a doorway led into the shooting-gallery, a late -adjunct since the English use of the pistol had been -brought into the settlement of quarrels made savage -by the angry politics of the day. On one of the walls -of the fencing-room was a large sign on which was -painted: "Achille Gamel, </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> Maître d'Armes, -Régiment du Duc de Rohan-Chabot. Lessons in -the small sword, saber, and pistol." The word "Duc" -was chalked over, but was still easily to be made out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently Gamel came to François in his shirt -and breeches, foil in hand. "This way, François." As -they slowly crossed the room, Gamel went on to -say in a low tone of voice: "Don't be too eager. -Take it all as a matter of course. Don't be nervous. -One must have had a serious affair or two before one -gets over the foil fever. Remember, you are here to -teach, not to triumph. There are few here you -cannot touch, but that is not business."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand," said François.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will give you for your lesson the best blade in -Paris. You can teach him nothing. He is my -foster-brother, the Marquis de Ste. Luce."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ste. Luce!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; he is here often."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they approached, the great gentleman came to -meet them, separating himself from the laughing -group of younger men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ma foi!</em><span>" he exclaimed. "Is this your new blade, -Gamel?" He caught François's appealing eye, and -showed no sign of having known the thief until they -were apart from the rest and had taken their foils. -Then he said quietly, "Does Gamel know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, monsieur. I saved his life in a row in the -Cité, and he gives me this chance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good! I shall not betray you. But beware! -You must keep faith, and behave yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur may trust me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you can fence?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A little, monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, on guard!" The marquis was pleased -to praise the new teacher. "He has a supple wrist, -and what a reach of arm!" At last he went away to -Gamel's room, where they were absent a half-hour. -These private talks, François observed later, were -frequent, especially with certain of the middle-aged -gentlemen who took here their morning exercise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After this first introduction to business, François -sat still when the marquis had left him. By and by -the gentleman came back, and saying a word of -encouragement to François, went away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take M. de Lamerie, François," said Gamel; and -turning to a gentleman near by, added, "</span><em class="italics">À vous</em><span>, -monsieur." Others began to select foils and to fence -in couples, so that soon the hall rang with the click, -click of meeting steel. François was clever enough -to let his pupil get in a touch now and then, and -meanwhile kept him and those who looked on -delighted with his natural merriment. He was soon -a favorite. The dog was made to howl at a tricolored -cockade, and proved a great success. As to the -fencing-lessons, Gamel was overjoyed, and as time ran on -came to trust and to like his thief, who began speedily -to pick up the little well-mannered ways and phrases -he heard about him. He liked well to be liked and to -be praised for his skill, which week by week became -greater, until none except M. Gamel and the marquis -were able to meet him on equal terms. The master -of arms was generous; the wages rose. The clothes -François now wore were better, and when Gamel asked -him to choose a rapier for wear in the street, which -was not yet forbidden, the poor thief felt that he was -in the full sunlight of fortune.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The afternoons were less to his taste. If a new -pupil arrived, the cook, an old woman, let him in, and -Gamel saw him in an anteroom and settled terms -and hours. The Jacobins came after two o'clock. -Then the room was unusually full. The poodle howled -at the name of Louis Capet. Tricolored cockades -were everywhere. The talk was of war and the -frontier, the ways of speech were guarded, the manners -not those of the morning. These citizens were -awkward, but terribly in earnest. The pistol-gallery was -much in favor; but at this deadly play François was -never an expert. He did not like it, and was pleased -when the Vicomte de Beauséjour, a favored pupil, -said: "'T is a coarse weapon, François. Ah, well -enough to enable bulldog English to settle their -disputes over a bone; but, </span><em class="italics">dame!</em><span> quite unfit to be the -arm of honor of gentlemen." This uncertain property -of honor seemed to François a too insecure kind of -investment. It was enough to have to take care of -one's pocket; and his being now well lined, François -began to resent the possibility of those sudden changes -of ownership which under other conditions he had -looked upon as almost in the nature of things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During this summer, and in the winter of '91 and -'92, Gamel was at times absent for days. Whenever -he returned he was for a week after in his -monosyllabic mood. François, who was keenly alive to his -present advantages, and who saw how these absences -interfered with their business, began to exercise his -easily excited inquisitiveness, and to meditate on what -was beneath Gamel's frequent fits of abstraction. His -own life had known disappointments, not always of -his own making. He dreaded new ones. The past of -the Cité, Quatre Pattes, Despard, those haunting eyes -of the marquis's widowed daughter, the choristers, the -asylum, the mad street life—all the company of his -uncertain days—were gone. Now, of late, he began -to have a feeling of uneasy belief that things were -once more about to change. Nor was the outer life -of the capital such as to promise tranquillity. A -nation was about to become insane. It was at this time -like a man thus threatened: to-day it was sane, -to-morrow it might be reeling over the uncertain line -which separates the sound from the unsound. Had -François been more interested and more apprehensive, -he was intelligent enough to have shared the dismay -with which many Frenchmen saw the growth of -tumultuous misrule. Indeed, the talk of the morning -fencing-school should have taught him alarm. But -he had formerly lived the life of the hour, even of the -minute, and as long as he was well fed, housed, and -clothed, his normal good humor comfortably digested -anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I should wrongly state a character of uncommon -interest if I were to give the impression of a man who -had merely the constant hilarity of a happy child. -He was apt to laugh where others smiled; but, as he -matured, cheerful contentment was his usual mood, -and with it, to the last, the probability of such easily -born laughter as radiated mirth upon all who heard -it, like a companionable fire diffusing its generous -warmth. He was at this time doing what he most -fancied. The company suited him. He liked the -tranquil ways of these courteous gentlemen. In a -word, he was contented, and for a time lost all desire -to seek change or adventure. His satisfaction in the -life made him more quiet and perhaps more thoughtful. -He had every reason to be cheerful, and cheerfulness -is the temperate zone of the mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At times, on Sundays, in the summer of '92, he -wandered into the country with Toto; but these -holidays were rare. Now and then the habits of years -brought again the longing for excitement; with the -meal-hours he recovered his common sense, being a -big fellow of sharp appetite and a camel-like capacity -for substantial food.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The feud between the cockades broke out at this -time in duels, which it became the fashion to drive to -the Bois to see. Women of all classes looked on and -applauded, and few liked it if the affair failed to prove -grave. François found it entertaining. The duels -were, in fact, many in the years of grace '91 and '92.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The morning pupils wore their hair in curls, dressed -in short clothes, and defied the new-fashioned -republican pantaloons, which were rising up to the armpits -and descending the legs. They carried sword-canes, -or sticks like the club of Hercules; a few still wore -the sword. Brown and gray wore the afternoon -citizens, with long straight hair, short waistcoats, and -long and longer </span><em class="italics">culottes</em><span> above large steel shoe-buckles, -all that were silver having been given to aid the funds -of a bankrupt government. The morning, which knew -very well who came in the later hours, abused the -afternoon, and this portion of the day returned those -compliments in kind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now and then the morning had a little affair with -the afternoon, for the Terror was not yet. In cafés -and theaters there were constant outbreaks, and men -on both sides eager enough to sustain opinion by the -sword or the pistol. When one of what François -called "our little domestic difficulties" was on hand, -there was excitement and interest among Royalists -and Jacobins, with much advice given, and huge -disgust when monsieur was pinked by Citizen Chose of -the Cordeliers or of the Jacobin Club.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If the reverse obtained, and some gentleman of ancient -name condescended to run Citizen Chose through the -lungs, there was great rejoicing before noon and black -looks after it. Here were a half-dozen affairs in a -month, for these were the first blades in France.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were laws against the duel, but the law changed -too fast for obedience, and fashion, as usual, defied it. -Hatred and contempt were ready at every turn. Two -abbés fought, and what was left of the great ladies -went to see and applaud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This duel between morning and afternoon began to -amuse Paris. But pretty soon neither the master of -arms nor his assistant was as well pleased at the -excessive attention thus drawn to the school of fencing. -Gamel disliked it for reasons which he did not set -forth, and François because he felt that his disturbing -readiness to turn back to a life of peril and -discomfort was like enough to be reinforced by coming -events. He adored good living, yet could exist on -crusts. He was intelligent, yet did not like to be -forced to think. An overmastering sense of the -ludicrous inclined him to take the world lightly. He liked -ease, yet delighted in adventure. He distrusted his -own temperament. He had need to do so. Excitement -was in the air. The summer of '92 was unquiet, -and pupils were less numerous, so that François found -time to wander. The autumn brought no change in his -life, but Gamel became more and more self-absorbed, -and neglected his pupils. The gentlemen who fenced -in the mornings began to disappear, and the new year -of 1793 came in with war without and tumult within -distracted France.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For several days before the 21st of January, 1793, -strange faces were frequently seen in the morning -hours, or more often late at night. These passed into -Gamel's room, and remained long. The marquis, -more thoughtful than usual, came and went daily. -Early on the 20th, Gamel told François that he should -be absent until after the 21st, the day set for the king -to die. François asked no questions, and was not -deeply grieved to be left in the dark as to what was in -contemplation. During the previous week there had -been sad faces in the morning hours. The pupils -were fewer; they were leaving Paris—and too many -were leaving France. The Jacobins, with whom -François fenced in the latter part of the day, were -wildly triumphant. They missed Gamel when he was -absent, and asked awkward questions. It was plain -enough to his assistant that the master of this -turbulent school was a Royalist </span><em class="italics">enragé</em><span>, as men then said. -The assistant was much of his mind, but he was also -far more loyal to one François than to the unfortunate king.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was not surprised that at the hour of opening -on the 21st no one appeared. He sat thinking, and a -little sorry for the humbled Louis rumbling over the -crowded streets to his doom. The prisons were -already becoming crowded; the richer bourgeoisie had -become submissive. The more able and aggressive -Jacobins were about to seize the reins of power from -the sentimental Girondists.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us think a little," said François to his friend -and counselor Toto. The poodle woke up, and sat -attentive. "It is disagreeable to have to think, </span><em class="italics">mon -ami</em><span>; but there are our heads. Without a head one -cannot eat or enjoy a bone. Shall we go to the frontier, -and be shot at, and shoot? </span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span> a thousand bullets -to one guillotine. We do not like that. Let us change -our opinions, Toto, join the clubs, and talk liberty. -Yes; that is thy opinion. Must we go back to the -streets? 'T is good nowadays to be obscure, and thou -art becoming a public character, Toto."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He read the gazette awhile, practised with the pistol, -and taught the dog a new trick. Still no one came, -and the day wore on to noon. At this hour the bell -rang, and the poodle barked, as was his custom. -"Learn to hold thy tongue," said the master. The -servant had gone, like all Paris, to see a brave man die.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François opened the outer door. A strongly built -man he had never before seen entered, and, pushing by -him, went without a word into the great room beyond.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hallo, citizen! What dost thou want?" said -François, following him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Art thou Citizen Gamel?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was not; and what could he do for the citizen?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man for a moment made no reply, but glanced -searchingly about the hall, while the assistant looked -him over as keenly. He was a personage not easily to -be forgotten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one else here?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The questioner was a man not over thirty-five, of -colossal make, and with something about him which -Toto resented. He began to bark, and then, of a -sudden, fled under a bench, and watched the newcomer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His features were out of keeping with his height -and breadth. The Jacobin had small, restless eyes, -a diminutive nose, perhaps broken, and a large-lipped -mouth, which, as he talked, was drawn to one side as -though from some loss of power on the other half of -the face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am Jean Pierre André Amar," he said, with an -air of importance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will the citizen be seated?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would not. He desired to see Citizen Gamel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François regretted his absence on business. Amar, -later known as </span><em class="italics">le farouche</em><span>, desired to see the list of -pupils, in order to select an unoccupied morning hour. -Unluckily, the master had the keys. The citizen -wished to fence, and could come in the morning only; -he was busy after that. François would mention his -name; perhaps the hours of the morning were full, -but Citizen Gamel would no doubt arrange.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man with the wandering mouth stood in -thought, said he would return, and then asked -abruptly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Art thou his assistant?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And thy name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"François."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has Citizen François a </span><em class="italics">carte-civique</em><span>—a certificate -of citizenship?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François knew better than to refuse. "Fetch me -the card, Toto. 'T is on the chair in my room. -</span><em class="italics">Va</em><span>—go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art careless, Citizen François."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François, on this, became short of speech. Toto -ran back. "Give it to the citizen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Amar took it, saying: "It is correct. And so a -dog is sent to fetch the safeguard the people provide?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 46%" id="figure-141"> -<span id="and-so-a-dog-is-sent-to-fetch-the-safeguard-the-people-provide"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'AND SO A DOG IS SENT TO FETCH THE SAFEGUARD THE PEOPLE PROVIDE?'"" src="images/img-113.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'AND SO A DOG IS SENT TO FETCH THE SAFEGUARD THE PEOPLE PROVIDE?'"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>François laughed. "The citizen is particular. But -here we are good republicans, and have given our -useful arms to the army, and think to go soon -ourselves. Shall I give the citizen a lesson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No; he would call again. The section wished the -names of all who fenced here. As the citizen reached -the door, he said, turning:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art the man who used to laugh in the show. -Robespierre told me of what fortune was read on his -palm. A great man. Take care of thy own fortune. -Thou art not of the club. It may be thou wilt laugh -no more." This while the distorted mouth went to -left and came back, and the small eyes winked and -wandered. François thanked him. He would join -the club, the list should be ready, and so on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When alone again, François began to reflect on -what was likely to happen. At any time, Amar might -return with a guard. On the 23d, as usual during -this sad week, there were no morning pupils; and -still Gamel came not, and François had to manage -the turbulent afternoon pupils alone.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xiii"><span class="bold large">XIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Citizen Amar, meeting the marquis, is unlucky and -vindictive.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A fear vast and oppressive was upon the -great city. The white cockades were -gone. François burned all he could -find. For a week no one came to fence -in the morning. The afternoons were -full, and there was much inquiry for Citizen Gamel. -On the night of the 24th of this terrible January, -1793, François went out. Paris was recovering, and, -as usual, forgetful, was eating and drinking and -dancing, while all Europe was ringing with the news -of this murder of a good man too weak for a mighty task.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When, later, François returned to the school of -arms he smelt the odor of a pipe. "Ah!" he cried, -"Toto, he has come. 'T is none too soon." Candles -lighted dimly the large hall and the rooms beyond -it. He heard no sounds, and, suddenly becoming -uneasy, hastened to enter the little salon. It was -empty, as were all the rooms. On the bedroom floor -lay scattered clothes. Scorched leaflets were -fluttering like black crows over the ashes of a dying -fire. They were fragments of burnt paper. An open -desk was on the table, and everywhere were signs of -haste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François ran out to the kitchen, and called their -only servant, a shrewd old woman. She said: "I -heard thee, citizen. I was coming to tell thee that -Citizen Gamel has gone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gone! </span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has paid me, and well; and here is a box for -thee, Citizen François. I hid it under the mattress. -Oh, I have waited, but I am afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François took the box and its key, and went to -his room. The box contained some five hundred -francs in gold, and as much more in assignats—the -notes of the day, and really worth but little. In a -folded package were papers and a letter. It read -thus:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry to leave thee. A business affair has -failed, and I go westward. I risk this to warn thee -to fly. For two days thou art safe, but not longer. -If a gentleman calls whom thou knowest, and asks for -</span><em class="italics">Monsieur</em><span> Achille Gamel, tell him all. I inclose for -thee a passport. No matter how I got it. It is good. -Use it soon. I divide with thee my small store. -Thou hast been honest; stay so. We may meet in -better times."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François laughed. "We must go, Toto. Well, it -has a good side; thou wilt get thinner." Then he -read the passport. It described him well: Jean -François, juggler ("Good!"), returning to Normandy; -affairs of family; a father dying. "Good! Now I -have one parent at least." It was in due order. -"Thou hast no papers, Toto; but thy black head is -secure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At early morning on the 25th of January, he found -a vender of antiquities, and quickly sold him, for two -hundred francs, the antique arms in the fencing-room. -He must remove them that coming night. Next he -sought a maker of articles for the jugglers who were -still to be found in every town; for neither at this -time nor during the Terror did the people cease to -amuse themselves. François bought a set of gaily -tinted balls and the conjuring apparatus with which -he was familiar. Once again in his room, he packed -his clothes in a knapsack and his juggler's material in a -bag that he could carry. A long cloak which his -master had left he set aside to take, and, thus prepared, -felt that on the whole he had better risk waiting until -the dawn of the following day before he set out on his -wintry journey. The old woman had already fled in -alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the following morning, at 9 A.M., François went -into the great hall to secure pistols and the fine Spanish -rapier which Gamel had given him. Here he paused, -and re-read the passport. A blank space had been -left for the insertion of the special locality to which -the bearer might wish to go in Normandy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" he exclaimed, "that must do. I will go to -Musillon. Perhaps I shall find Despard. He will help -me to recover that desirable papa." He went back to -Gamel's room, and carefully completed the passport -by inserting the name of the village Musillon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After this he returned to the hall, talking to the -poodle as he went. "Toto, thou art uneasy," he said; -"and I too, my friend. Remember to howl no more -at Jacobins. Thou art of the Left, a dog of the Left. -</span><em class="italics">Tiens!</em><span> the bell." He caught up his rapier, and opened -the door. A powerful, broad-shouldered man entered. -He was clad in gray, and wore the red bonnet the -extreme Jacobins affected, and which Robespierre so -much despised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, no one here. That is well. I trust Gamel has -gone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" exclaimed François to himself. "'T is my -confounded marquis. Now for ill luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Monsieur Gamel at home? </span><em class="italics">Monsieur</em><span> Achille -Gamel?" He emphasized the title.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François understood, with no great amazement, that -this was the man of whom Gamel's letter spoke. He -replied, "This way, please, monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gentleman followed without a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Read this," said François; "and, pardon me, but -read it quickly. My head appears to me to be less -securely attached to my body than common."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! You are as jolly as ever, my delightful -thief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg that monsieur will read this letter, and at -once. </span><em class="italics">Nom de ciel!</em><span> there is no time to be lost." And -still he laughed. "We are in a trap, monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis was not to be hurried; it was not his -way. "St. Gris! you can laugh. I envy you. In -France men grin, for they must; but laughter is dead. -Ah!" and he fell to considering the letter. Then he -folded it deliberately. "Burn it," he said. "So; that -is well; and now, my good thief, I came to warn -Gamel. He has wisely fled. Of course there was a -plot, and, as usual, it failed. You, who are not in it, -are like enough to pay other folks' debts. I have a -certain mild interest in honest rascality. You are -a marked man. No cabbage of the field is more sure -of the knife. Go, and soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard from Gamel, monsieur. He assured -me that I was safe here for a day or two—I know not -how he knew that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do, but I scarcely share his confidence. Go soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall go at dawn to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; go to-day—this evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will. Monsieur will pardon me if I ask if -madame, monsieur's daughter, is well and safe? -There are few who have been kind to me, and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My child is well," said the marquis, "and in -Normandy; but if safe or not, who can say, while these -wolves destroy women and children? Safe! I would -give my soul to be sure of that." His face showed -the transient emotion he felt; and suddenly, as if -annoyed at his own weakness, he drew himself up and -said abruptly: "Go—and go quickly! I shall leave -at once—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the bell rang violently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The devil!" cried the marquis. "Go and see, and -do not shut the inner door; I must hear." With this -he entered the pistol-gallery and waited. François -obeyed, and, with the sheathed rapier still in his hand, -crossed the hall. Again the bell rang.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is in a mischief of a hurry. No noise, Toto!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he opened the outer door, the man of the warped -face broke in, and, passing him at once, walked -across the little reception-room and into the great hall -beyond. Again his height and massive build struck -the fencing-master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is Gamel, citizen?—and no lies to me! -Where is Gamel, I say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has gone away. Why, I do not know. Will -the citizen search his rooms?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Search! Not I. I will call the municipals. -What are those rooms over there? And arms! Why -have they not been sent to the committee for our -patriot children on the frontier?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps Citizen Amar would kindly inspect them, -and then, if required, we can send them. Many have -been already sent. Behold, citizen, a war-club of -Ashantee, a matchlock, a headsman's sword. -</span><em class="italics">Parbleu!</em><span> the guillotine is better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see, citizen; I see. But now of Gamel. He was -to be here to-day, I hear. I will return presently with -the officers; and, friend citizen, it will be well for thee -to assist, and heartily. This Gamel was in some plot -to save the Citizen Capet. Like master, like man. -Have ready the lists of those aristocrats who fence -here in the morning. Thou canst save thy head by -making a clean breast of it. I shall return in half -an hour. Have everything ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this the dreaded Jacobin, having looked over -the arms and duly impressed the fencing-master, -moved toward the door of exit. Should Amar leave -the room, François felt that his own fate was certain. -He had been too much with Gamel. Less things -every day cost the heads of men. There was death or -life in the next five minutes. François was not one to -hesitate. Preceding the Jacobin, he quietly set his -back to the door, and, locking it, put the key in his -pocket. This action was so dexterous and swift that -for a moment the Jacobin did not perceive that he -was trapped. He was thinking if there was anything -more to be said. He looked up. "Well, open the -door, citizen." As he spoke, the two strangest faces -in Paris were set over against each other. Here was -comedy, with long lean features, twinkling eyes above, -and below the good humor of a capacious mouth set -between preposterous ears. And there was tragedy, -strong of jaw, long hair lying flat in black, leech-like -flakes on a too prominent brow, and small eyes, deep-set, -restless, threatening, seen like those of a wolf in -cave shelters—a face no man trusted, a face on which -all expressions grew into deformity; not a mere beast; -a terribly intelligent bigot of the new creed, colossal, -alert, unsparing, fearless, full of vanity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the citizen commissioner said, "Open," François -replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not just yet, citizen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is this?" shouted Amar. "Open, I say, in -the name of the law!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I." And François, with a quick motion, threw -off the sheath of the rapier. It fell with a great -clatter on the far side of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Open, I say!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment Ste. Luce came across the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce is all this, François?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Amar turned his square shoulders, and looked at -the marquis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I presume thee, too, to be one of this rascal -Gamel's band. If thou dost think I, Pierre Amar, -am afraid of thee, thou art going to find out thy -mistake. What is thy name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go to the devil!" cried the marquis. The Jacobin -darted toward the window; but François was too quick -for him, and instantly had him by the collar, the point -of the rapier touching his back. "Move a step, and -thou art a dead man." The face, crooked with -passion, half turned over the shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Misery! What a beauty! Didst thou think I -valued my head so little as to trust thee, scum of the -devil's dish-water?" For some reason this huge -animal filled François with rage, and he poured out a -flood of the abusive slang of the Cité as the marquis -came up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drop that window-curtain!" said the thief. "And -now, what to do, monsieur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captured man showed the utmost courage, and -no small lack of wisdom. "Dog of an aristocrat! I -know thee. It was thou didst kill Jean Coutier, last -month. I saw thee, coward! We knew not thy -name. Now we shall take pay for that murder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis grew white to the eyes, with a certain -twitching of the lips to be seen as François again -asked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall we do with him? Shall we tie him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; kill him. What! you will not? Give me your -rapier. 'T is but one wolf less."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was more than unwilling. The intense -hatred of the noble for the Jacobin he did not share; -indeed, he liked the man's fearlessness, but, nevertheless, -meant to provide for his own security. His conscience, -such as it was, refused to sanction cold-blooded murder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot. Go away! I will take care of this rascal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no time to lose," said the marquis. -"Kill the brute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," said François.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art coward enough to kill a man in cold -blood!" cried Amar. "This is the fine honor you -talk of. Better go. All thy kind are running; but, -soon or late, the guillotine will get thy hog-head, as it -did thy Jew-nosed king's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The face and the tongue are well matched," said -Ste. Luce, quietly. "It will take a good ten minutes -to tie and gag him. You will not kill him? Then -give the fellow a blade, and—I will see to the rest. -Are you man enough to take my offer? Quick, now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Try me. I am no weakling, like poor Coutier."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Find him a blade, François. I will watch him. -Be quick!" He took the rapier, and stood by the -motionless figure, whose uneasy eyes followed the -thief as he went and came again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The blades are of a length, François? Yes. Lock -the door. Ah, it is done. Good! Now, keep an eye -on him, François. Take care of yourself if he has the -luck to kill me. However, that is unlikely. Ah, you -have a sword, François."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The citizen talks a good deal," said Amar, trying -his blade on the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the marquis, negligently untying his -cravat. "It is so rare, in these democratic days, -that one has a chance to talk with one of you gentlemen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah!" cried the Jacobin, "we shall see presently." As -he spoke, he laid his sword on a chair and began -to strip. As he took off his coat and waistcoat, he -folded them with care, and laid them neatly on a bench.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis also stripped to his waistcoat, but it -was with more haste. He threw his coat to François, -and took his place in the middle of the room, where -he waited until his slower antagonist, in shirt and -breeches, came forward to meet him. Both believed -it to be a duel to the death, but neither face showed -to François any sign of anxiety. The Jacobin said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The light is in thine eyes, citizen. If we were to -move so as to engage across the room—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is of no moment," returned the marquis. "Are -you ready?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François saw no better method of disposing of an -awkward business. Nevertheless, he was uncomfortable. -"What if this devil should kill the marquis?" He -cried, "On guard, messieurs!" and stepped aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis saluted with grave courtesy; but the -Jacobin, obeying the fashion of the schools of fence, -went through the formula of appearing to draw the -sword, and certain other conventional motions -supposed to be exacted by etiquette. The marquis smiled -as Amar led off in this ceremonious fashion. These -preliminaries of the </span><em class="italics">salle d'armes</em><span> were usually omitted -or curtailed in serious combats. The seigneur, -amused, and following Amar's lead, went through the -whole performance. Meanwhile François looked the -two men over, and was not ill pleased. This heavy -fellow should prove no match for a practised duelist like -Ste. Luce. He was soon undeceived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both men were plainly enough masters of their -weapon, and for at least two minutes there was no -advantage. Then Ste. Luce was touched in the left -shoulder, and a distorted grimace of satisfaction ran -over the face of the Jacobin. The marquis became -more careful, and a minute or two later François saw -with pleasure that Amar was breathing a trifle hard. -He had half a mind to cry: "Wait! wait! He is -feeling the strain." He held his peace, and, with Toto, -looked on in silence. The marquis knew his business -well, and noted the quickening chest movements of -his adversary. He began to smile, and to make a -series of inconceivably quick lunges. Now and then -the point of either blade struck fair on the convex -steel shell-like guard which protected the hand. -When this chanced, a clear, sweet note as of a bell -rang through the great hall. The Jacobin held his -own, and François, despite his anxiety, saw with the -satisfaction of a master how lightly each rapier lay in -the grasp of the duelist, and how dexterously the -fingers alone were used to guide the blades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of a sudden the strange face was jerked as it were -to left, and a savage lunge in tierce came perilously -near to ending the affair. Ste. Luce threw himself -back with the quickness of a boy. The point barely -touched him. "St. Gris!" he called out gaily. -"That was well meant. Now take care!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By St. Denis! 't is a master," muttered François. -The marquis seemed of a sudden to have let loose -a reserve of unlooked-for power. He was here and -there about the massive and by no means unready -bulk of Amar, swift and beautifully graceful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then of a sudden the marquis's blade went out as -quick as lightning, and just at the limit of a nearly -futile thrust caught Amar over the right eye. "</span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! -I missed those lanterns of hell!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Jacobin brushed away the blood which, running -down his face, made his right eye useless for the -time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis fell back, and dropped his point. -"The deuce! The man cannot see. Tie a -handkerchief around his head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Jacobin was not sorry to have time to breathe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art more than fair, citizen," said Amar, -getting his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks," returned the marquis, coldly. "Make -haste, François."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François took up a lace handkerchief which lay -beside Ste. Luce's coat on the seat where he had cast his -clothes. While François bound the handkerchief -around the head so as to stop the flow of blood, Amar -turned to his foe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Citizen," said the Jacobin, "thou hast been a -gallant man in this matter. My life was thine to take. -Let it end here. Thou art a brave man and a good -blade."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ste. Luce looked at him with an expression of -amused curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not have thee pursued—on my honor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tie it firmly, François. You have just heard, my -François, of the last Parisian novelty—a Jacobin's -honor! Be so good as to hurry, François."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had the stern Jacobin felt some sudden impulse of -pity or respect? In all his after days he was -unsparing, and certainly it was not fear which now -moved him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As pleases thee," he said simply. Ste. Luce made -no answer. Again their blades met. And now the -marquis changed his game, facing his foe steadily, -while François gazed in admiration. Ste. Luce's rapier -was like a lizard's movements for quickness. Twice -he touched the man's chest, and by degrees drove him -back, panting, until he was against the door. Suddenly, -seeming to recover strength, the Jacobin lunged -in quarte, and would have caught the marquis fair in -the breast-bone had he not thrown himself backward -as he felt the prick. Instantly he struck the blade -aside with his open left hand, and, as it went by his -left side, drove his rapier savagely through Amar's -right lung and into the panel of the door. It was -over. Not ten minutes had passed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>" he cried, withdrawing his rapier, and -retreating a pace or two. "He was worth fighting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Jacobin's face moved convulsively. He -coughed, spattering blood about him. His right arm -moved in quick jerks. His sword dropped, and stuck -upright in the floor, quivering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dog of an aristocrat!" he cried. His distorted -face twitched; he staggered to left, to right, and at -last tumbled in a heap, a massive figure, of a sudden -inert and harmless.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 61%" id="figure-142"> -<span id="he-staggered-to-left-to-right-and-at-last-tumbled-in-a-heap"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HE STAGGERED TO LEFT, TO RIGHT, AND AT LAST TUMBLED IN A HEAP."" src="images/img-131.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HE STAGGERED TO LEFT, TO RIGHT, AND AT LAST TUMBLED IN A HEAP."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis stood still and looked down at his foe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce to do with him?" said François.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take his head, and drag him into your room. We -can talk then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will monsieur take his feet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> touch the dog? No, not I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François did not like it; but making no reply, he -dragged the Jacobin's helpless bulk after him, and, -once in his room, pulled the mattress off the bed, and -without roughness drew the man upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Amar opened his eyes, and tried to speak. He -could not; the flow of blood choked him. He shook -his fist at Ste. Luce.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cursed brute," cried François, "be still! He will -begin to howl presently. The sons of Satan are immortal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must gag him, François."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he will die; he will choke. See how he -breathes—how hard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Diable!</em><span> it is he or I. Would he spare me, do you -think? Don't talk nonsense. Do as I tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François took up a towel. As he approached, -Amar looked up at him. There was no plea in his -savage face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on. What the deuce are you waiting for?" -said Ste. Luce.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot do it," said François. "End it yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! I? Strangle a dog! I! </span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! Let us -go. What a fool you are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better go singly, then," said the thief. He had no -mind to increase his own risks by the dangerous -society of the nobleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Amar was silent. The handkerchief had fallen -from his head, but the wound bled no longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall I do with the handkerchief, monsieur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do? Burn it. Faugh!" François cast it on -the still glowing embers. "Now my clothes and my -cloak," said Ste. Luce; "and do not lose any time over -that animal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He washed off the little blood on his clothes, and -dressed in haste, saying: "Lucky that his point struck -on my breast-bone. 'T is of no moment. The fellow -has left me a remembrance. I am sorry I did not -have the luck to kill him. Good-by, François. May -we meet in better days." He was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François locked the door after him, and went back -to his room. He sat down on the floor beside the -mattress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now listen, Master Amar. Canst thou hear me? -Ah, yes. Well, I have saved thy life. Oh, thou wilt -get well,—more 's the pity!—and do some mischief -yet. Now if I should kill thee I would be pretty -safe. If I go away, and send thee a doctor, I am a -lost man. What is that thou art saying? Ah!" -and he leaned down to hear the broken whisper. "So -thou wilt have my head chopped off. Thou art less -afraid than I would be, were I thee. What shall we -do, Toto?" and he laughed; somehow the situation -had for him its humorous side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't murder a man," he said. "If ever I kill a -man, I trust it may be one who hath not thy eyes and -thy one-sided grin. To be haunted by a ghost like -thee! The deuce! Not I! </span><em class="italics">Sac à papier</em><span>! I will -take my chance." He sat down, and wrote a short -note to a surgeon on the farther side of Paris, one -whom he knew to have been much commended to his -pupils by Gamel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My unforgiving friend," he said, "I shall lock thee -in. Thou art too weak to move, and to try will cause -thee to bleed. This note will get thee a surgeon in -about six hours. I must leave thee. Be quiet, and be -good. Here is a flask of </span><em class="italics">eau-de-vie</em><span>. Art still of a -mind to give thy preserver to the guillotine?" The -grim head nodded as the red froth leaked out over -the lips. "'Yes, yes,' thou sayest. Thou art in a fine -state of penitence. I hope we have seen the last of -each other. One more chance. Promise me not to be -my enemy. I will trust thee. Come, now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Jacobin was past speech. As François -knelt beside him, he beckoned feebly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" As he bent lower, a grim smile -went over the one movable side of Amar's face, and, -raising a feeble hand, he drew it across François's neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span>" cried he, recoiling, "thou art ripe for -hell. Adieu, my unforgiving friend; and as thou hast -no God, </span><em class="italics">au diable</em><span>, and may St. Satan look after -thee—for love of thy looks. Come, doggie!" He put his -pistols in the back of his belt, set his rapier in the -belt-catch, threw his cloak over all, and picked up his -bag and knapsack. He took one last look at Amar, -and saying, "By-by, my angel," left him, locking -both doors as he went out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François passed into the street, followed by the -black poodle. In the Rue St. Honoré he paid the -boy of a butcher with whom Gamel dealt to take his -note when the midday meal should be over. And thus -having eased his conscience and regulated the -business of life, he set out to put between him and the -Jacobin as many miles as his long legs could cover.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xiv"><span class="bold large">XIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">François escapes from Paris and goes in search of a -father. He meets a man who has a wart on his nose, -and who because of this is unlucky.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He had been fortunate. Not more than an -hour and a quarter had gone by since -Amar's entrance, and the mid-hour of -breakfast had probably secured them -from intrusion of foe or friend. François, -who knew Paris as few men did, strode on through -narrow streets and the dimly lighted passages which -afforded opportunity to avoid the busier haunts of -men. The barriers were carelessly guarded, and he -passed unmolested into the country. Once outside of -the city, he took the highroad to Evreux, down the -Seine, simply because the passport of Jean François, -juggler, pointed to Normandy as his destination. -Naturally a man of forethinking sense, he had assumed -that the village whence came Despard should be the -home of that father who was ill. He knew from his -former partner enough of the village to answer -questions. It lay westward of Evreux. France was then -less full of spies and less suspicious than it became in -the Terror; and until he arrived at a small town on the -north bank of the Seine, not far from Poissy, he had -no trouble. He saw no couriers. The post went only -once a week. He was safe, and, to tell the truth, -merry and well pleased again to wander. His money -was sewed in his garments. He wore his rapier under -his cloak, but with it he carried the conjurer's thin, -supple blade, which, when he feigned to swallow it, a -spring caused to coil into the large basket-hilt. His -pistols were strapped behind him, and on his back he -carried his knapsack and small bag of juggling -apparatus. Thus, clad in sober gray, with the tricolor -on his red cap and a like decoration on the poodle's -collar, he was surely a quaint enough figure. Long, -well built, and wiry, laughing large between his two -wing-like ears, he held his way along the highroad on -the bank of the winding Seine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He avoided towns and people, camped in the woods, -juggled and told fortunes at farm-houses for a dinner, -and, as I have said, had no trouble until he came at -midday to the hamlet of Île Rouge. Here, being -tired, and Toto footsore, he thought he might venture -to halt and sleep at the inn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a little gray French town in the noonday -quiet, scarce a soul in sight, and a warmer sun than -January usually affords on street and steaming -roof-tiles. Hostile dogs, appearing, seemed to consider -Toto a Royalist. François tucked him under his arm, -and carelessly entered the stone-paved tap-room of -the "Hen with Two Heads." He repented too late. -The room was half full. One of the many -commissioners who afterward swarmed through France was -engaged with the mayor of the commune. François, -putting on an air of humility, sought out the -innkeeper, and asked meekly to have a room. As he did -so, a fat man in the red bonnet of the Jacobins called -out from the table where he sat, "Come here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François said, "Yes, citizen," and stood at the table -where this truculent person was seated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was sharply questioned, and his papers and -baggage were overhauled with small ceremony, -while, apparently at his ease, he liberally distributed -smiles and the kindly glances of large blue eyes. At -last he was asked why he carried a sword; it was -against the law. He made answer that he carried two -tools of his trade—would the citizen see? And when -he had swallowed two feet of his juggler's blade, to -the wonder of the audience, nothing further was said -of the rapier. At last, seeing that the commissioner -still hesitated, he told, with great show of frankness, -whither he was going, and named Despard as one who -would answer for him. The mention of this name -seemed to annoy the questioner, who said Despard -was a busy fellow, and was stirring up the citizens at -Musillon. He, Grégoire, was on his way to see after -him. He should like to make the acquaintance of that -sick father, and, after all, François might be an </span><em class="italics">émigré</em><span>. -He must wait, and go with the commissioner to Musillon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François smiled his best; and, when the citizen -commissioner had done with business, might he amuse -him with a little juggling? Citizen Grégoire would -see; let him sit yonder and wait. After a few -minutes the great man's breakfast was set before him; the -room was cleared, and the citizen ate, while François -looked him over.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 59%" id="figure-143"> -<span id="he-held-his-way-along-the-highroad"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HE HELD HIS WAY ALONG THE HIGHROAD."" src="images/img-139.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HE HELD HIS WAY ALONG THE HIGHROAD."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire was a short, stout man with long hair, a -face round, red, chubby, and made expressionless by -a button-nose, which was decorated with a large -rugose wart. The meal being over, he went out, -leaving a soldier at the door, and taking no kind of -note of his prisoner. François sat still. He was -patient, but the afternoon was long. At dusk Citizen -Grégoire reappeared, and, as François noted, was a -little more amiable by reason of the vinous hospitality -of the mayor. He sat down, and ordered dinner. -When it came, François said tranquilly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Citizen Commissioner Grégoire, wouldst thou -kindly consider the state of my stomach? Swallowing -of swords sharpens the appetite."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The commissioner looked up from his meal. He -was in the good-humored stage of drunkenness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come and eat," he said, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He hath the benevolence of the bottle," thought -François. "Let us amuse him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The commissioner took off his red bonnet, poured -out a glass of wine, looked at a paper or two in his -hand-bag, and set it on a seat near by, while the -juggler humbly accepted the proffered place. Then -the poodle was made to howl at the name of Citizen -Capet, and to bark joyously at the mention of Jacobins. -François told stories, played tricks, and drank freely. -The commissioner drank yet more freely. François -proposed to make a punch,—a juggler's punch,—and -did make a drink of uncommon vigor. About nine -the commissioner began to nod, and François, who -had been closely studying his face, presently saw him -drop into a deep slumber. The open bag looked -tempting. He swiftly slipped a dexterous hand into -its contents, and feeling a wallet of coin, transferred -it to his own pocket. The temptation had been great, -the yielding to it imprudent; but there was no one else -about, except the careless guard outside the door. -François concluded to replace the wallet; but at this -moment the great Grégoire of the committee woke up. -"That was funny," he said. "I did not quite catch -the end of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said François; "the citizen slept a little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire became angry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I asleep? I am on duty. I never sleep on -duty." The citizen was very drunk. He got up, and, -staggering, set a foot on Toto's tail. The poodle -yelped, and the Jacobin kicked him. "</span><em class="italics">Sacrée béte!</em><span>" The -poodle, unaccustomed to outrage, retorted by a -nip at a fat calf. Then the great man asserted himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hallo, there! Curse you and your dog! -Landlord! landlord!" The host came in haste, and two -soldiers. "Got a safe place? Lock up this sc-scoundrel, -and k-kill his dog!" The landlord kindly suggested -a disused wine-cellar. "Now, no delay. I'm -Grégoire. Lock him up!" Having disposed of the -juggler, the citizen contrived to get out of the room -and to bed with loss of dignity and balance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few minutes sufficed to set François in a chilly -cellar, the poodle at his heels; for no one took -seriously the order to kill Toto. Of the two soldiers, one, -who was young and much amused, brought an old -blanket, and a lantern with a lighted candle set within -it. Yes, the prisoner could have his knapsack and -bag—there were no orders; but he must give up his -sword. It was so dark that when François promptly -surrendered his juggler's blade it seemed to satisfy -the soldiers; for who could dream that a man would -carry two swords? With a laugh and a jest, François -bade them to wake him early. He called to the young -recruit, as they were leaving, that he would like to -have a bottle of wine, and gave him sufficient small -change to insure also a bottle for these good-humored -jailers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They took the whole affair as somewhat of a -practical joke. All would be well in the morning. -When Grégoire was drunk he arrested everybody. -The young soldier would fetch the wine in an hour. -Good night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was alone and with leisure to consider the -situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Attention, Toto!" he said. This putting of -thought into an outspoken soliloquy, with the judicial -silence of the poodle to aid him, was probably a real -assistance; for to think aloud formulates conditions -and conclusions in a way useful to one untrained to -reason. To read one's own mind, and to hear one's -own mind, are very different things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Toto," he said, "we are in a bad way. Why didst -thou bite that fat beast's calf? It did thee no good, -thou ill-tempered brute. 'T is not good diet; a pound -of it would make thee drunk. I shall have to whip -thee, little beast of an aristocrat, if thou dost take to -nipping the calves of the republic."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Toto well knew that he was being scolded. He -leaped up and licked the thief's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down, Citizen Toto! Where are thy manners? -I like better Citizen Grégoire drunk than Citizen -Grégoire sober. How about my poor papa? Oh, but -I was an ass to name Despard. Didst thou observe -that the commissioner's eyebrows meet? And, Toto, -he has a great wart on his nose. 'T is a man will -fetch ill luck. I knew a thief had a wart on his nose, -and he was broken on the wheel at Rouen. Besides, -there was the wallet. Toto, attention! Thou dost -wander. It is all the doings of that </span><em class="italics">sacré</em><span> marquis. </span><em class="italics">À -bas les aristocrates</em><span>! Let us inspect a little." Upon -this he pried about every corner, tried the heavy oaken -door, still gaily talking, and at last sat on an empty -cask and considered the grated window and the -limited landscape dimly visible between its four iron -rods. The end of a woodpile, about four feet away, -was all that he could see. This woodpile set him to -thinking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An hour later the young recruit returned with the -wine. "I came to see if thou wert safe," he said. -"Like as not Grégoire will forget all about thee -to-morrow. Wine hath a short memory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François laughed. "</span><em class="italics">Le bon Dieu</em><span> grant it. I can -tell fortunes, but not my own." And should he tell the -citizen soldier's fortune? With much laughter it was -told, and the gifts of fateful time were showered on -the soldier's future in opulent abundance. He would -be with the army on the frontier soon. He would -marry—</span><em class="italics">dame!</em><span>—a woman rich in looks and lands. He -would be a general one day. And this, oddly enough, -came true; for he became a general of division, and -was killed the morning after at Eylau. Seeing that -this young man had agreeable fashions, the thief -ventured to express his thanks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur—" he began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take care! </span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span> thou must not say that; -'citizen,' please. The messieurs are as dead as the -saints, and the devil, and the </span><em class="italics">bon Dieu</em><span>, and the rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he did not seem displeased, François said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, thou art no Jacobin. Hast a </span><em class="italics">De</em><span> to thy name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This recruit's manners appeared to François a good -deal like those of the young nobles whom he had -taught to fence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I was is of no moment," replied the young -fellow. "The </span><em class="italics">De's</em><span> are as dead as the saints. I am -a soldier. But, pardon me, the citizen may be as frank -as suits his appetite for peril. I have had my bellyful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Frank? </span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span> why not? Up-stairs I was a -Jacobin; down here I am a Royalist. I was an aide -in Gamel's fencing-school, and, </span><em class="italics">pardie!</em><span> I came away. -Thou canst do me a little service."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can I help thee, and not hurt myself? We—my -people—are grown scarce of late. I am the last; I -take no risks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There will be none. Bring me a little steel fork -and a good long bit of twine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fork! What for?" He had a lad's curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To eat with."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But there is nothing to eat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite true. But it assists one's imagination; -and, after all, there may be to-morrow, and to eat with -decency a fork is needed. A citizen may use his bare -paws, but a monsieur may not use the fingers of equality. -Thou wilt observe how the thought of these tools -of luxury reminds one of messieurs and the like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lad—he was hardly over twenty—laughed -merrily. "Thou art a delightful companion. -Gamel—thou didst say Gamel?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did, monsieur. Gamel that was the master of -arms in the Rue St. Honoré."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My poor brother used to fence there. By -St. Denis! thou must be François!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then thou shalt have the tool of luxury. But, -good heavens! take care. Thou hast a tongue -which—well, I have learned to bridle mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My tongue never got me into trouble; like my -legs, it is long, and, like them, it has got me out of a -good many scrapes. I thank thee for the warning. -One knows whom to talk to. I can be silent. Oh, -you may laugh. I did not speak for a day after I first -saw that juggler's tool, the guillotine, in the sun on the -Place de la Révolution. </span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span> behold there is a man -that talks and laughs; and, presto, pass! there is -eternal silence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Âme de St. Denis!</em><span> thou art not gay," cried the soldier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tête de St. Denis</em><span> were better. He was a fellow -for these times—a saint that could carry his head -under his arm when it was chopped off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young recruit laughed, but more uneasily. -Not to laugh in some fashion was among the -impossibilities of life when this face-quake of mirth broke -out between those wing-like ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would fetch the tools, and, in fact, did so in a -few minutes. Then he bade François good night, and -went away. As soon as he had gone, François retired -to a corner with his lantern to inspect the wallet. -There were three louis, a few sous, and no more. The -risk was large, the profit small. In an inner pocket -was a thin, folded paper. When opened it seemed to -be a letter in due form, dated a month before, but -never sent. It was addressed to Citizen de la -Vicomterie of the Great Committee. François whistled. It -was a furious attack on Robespierre and Couthon, -and an effort to sum up the strength which an assault -on the great leaders would command in the Convention—a -rash document for those days. Clearly the -writer, whose full signature of Pierre Grégoire was -appended, had wisely hesitated to send it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems to have been forgotten. Was he drunk, -Toto? Surely now we must get out and away. 'T is -a letter of death; 't is a passport worth many louis, -Toto." He pulled off a shoe, folded the paper neatly, -and pulling up a tongue of leather on the inside sole, -placed the letter underneath, and put on the shoe -again. He took the louis, threw the wallet under a -cask, and waited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the house was still he set to work. He had -found behind a barrel a long staff used to measure -the height of wine in casks. On the end of this he -tied securely, crosswise, the steel fork, and then began -to inspect the thin rods of the window, which were but -ill fitted to guard a man of resources.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Art still too fat?" he said, as he lifted Toto and -managed to squeeze him between the bars. After that -he began to fish with his stick and fork for a small -log which had fallen from the woodpile and was just -a foot or two out of reach. Twice he had it, and twice -it broke loose, but now Toto understood, and, seizing -the log, dragged it nearer. At last François had the -prize. The rest was easy. He set the log between -the thin bars, and threw on this lever all the power of -one of the strongest men in Paris. In place of breaking, -the iron rod bent and drew out of its sockets. A -second proved as easy, and at last the window-space -was free. It seemed large enough. He concluded to -leave his bag; but the knapsack he set outside, and -also his weapons and the conjuring-balls. Next he -stripped off most of his clothes, and laid these too on -the far side of the window. Finally his legs were -through, and his hips. But when it came to the -shoulders he was in trouble. It seemed impossible. -He felt the poor poodle pulling at his foot, and had -hard work to restrain his laughter. "</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span> would -I grin at </span><em class="italics">Mère Guillotine</em><span>? Who knows? How to -shrink?" He wriggled; he emptied his chest of air; -he turned on his side; and, leaving some rags and a -good bit of skin on the way, he was at last outside. -Here, having reclothed himself, he broke up the -wine-measurer and threw the fork over the wall. In a few -minutes he was on the highway, and running lightly -at the top of his speed. At dawn he found a -farm-house which seemed to be deserted—no rare thing in -those days. He got in at a window, and stayed for -two days, without other food than the crusts he had -carried from the cellar. The night after, weak and -hungry, he walked till dawn; and being now a good -ten leagues from that terrible commissioner, he -ventured to buy a good dinner and to get himself set over -the Seine. Somewhat reassured, he asked the way to -Evreux, and, for once in his life perplexed and -thoughtful, went along without a word to Toto.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had been three weeks on the way, owing to his -need to hide or to make wide circuits in order to avoid -the larger towns. It was now the February of northern -France, and there was sometimes a little snow, but -more often a drizzling rain. He had suffered much -from cold; but as he strode along, with a mind more -at ease, he took pleasure in the sunshine. A night -wind from the north had dried the roads. It was calm, -cold in the shadows, deliriously warm on the sun-lit -length of yellow highway. He had lost time,—quite -too much,—but he still hoped to reach Musillon -before that man with the wart arrived. If so, he would -see Despard, warn him as to Grégoire, and, with this -claim, and their old partnership, on which he counted -less, he might get his passport altered, and lose -himself somewhere. If he had to remain in the town, he -must see, or be presumed to have seen, that sick -father, and must be promptly adopted if by cruel -circumstances he became unable to journey far enough -from Paris to feel secure. The distorted face of Amar -haunted him—the man who, to save his own life, -would not even make believe to forgive. He had no -power within him to explain a man like Amar; and -because the Jacobin was to him incomprehensible, he -was more than humanly terrible. What possessed -that devil of a marquis to turn up! And was he now -at his château? And why had Achille Gamel set -down Normandy in the passport? And why had he -himself been fool enough to fill up the vacant place -for the name of his destination with that of the only -small town he could recall in that locality? He had -been in haste, and now a net seemed to be gathering -about him. He must go thither, or take perilous -chances. He was moving toward a fateful hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Toto," he said, "let us laugh; for I like not the -face of to-morrow."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xv"><span class="bold large">XV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">How François finds Despard and has a lesson in politics, -and of what came of it.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At evening he ventured to enter an inn -at Soluce. A good bed and ample diet -restored his courage; but he learned that -the citizen with a wart, and an escort of -a dozen soldiers, had passed the day -before, on their way to Bvreux. Would he remain -there, this friendly commissioner? No one knew. -Evreux was Jacobin to the core. Then he thought of -the marquis; it was well to be informed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes; the Citizen Ste. Luce lived beyond Musillon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The citizen juggler declared that he had once been in -his service, but now that all men were equal, he could -not lower the dignity of an equalized nation by serving -him longer. He learned that the château of the -marquis had not suffered, nor he, as he was never known -to be absent, and no one molested him. This did -not surprise François. In the South, at an earlier -date, the peasants had burned hundreds of châteaux, -but these riots had been mercilessly put down. The -Jacobins meant to have peace in France, and at cost -of blood, if that was requisite. To have peace at -home was essential to the success of national defense -on the frontier. In many parts of France, throughout -the whole of the Terror, very many large land-owners -were undisturbed. In fact, the Terror, and its -precedent punishments, fell with strange irregularity -on the provinces. The Dukes de Bethune-Charost, de -Luynes, de Nivernais, and others who had not been -active in politics, remained unhurt on their estates. -For the </span><em class="italics">émigrés</em><span> was reserved a bitter hatred. Nor can -we wonder at this result of the vast exodus which -took place from '89 to '91—"</span><em class="italics">l'émigration joyeuse</em><span>," as it -was called by those who carried off means enough to -live gay lives in Brussels while their country was in -the convulsions of great social and political change.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François made haste to leave at dawn, and by -nightfall was close to the town of Musillon. He found a -wood road, and was soon deep in one of the marquis's -forests. In a quiet glade among rocks he put his -effects in security, and, charging Toto to guard them, -set out to inspect the town. The poodle did not like -it. He ran back and forth, whining.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, stop that!" cried François. "Go back! -Dost thou hear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Toto lay down, and set himself to secure what -comfort the situation afforded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile François took to the main road until -close to the village, and then left it for the fields, -cautiously nearing the town, a small place of some twelve -hundred souls. A monotonous double line of scattered -one-story stone houses lay along the highway. -Avoiding the village, François moved past and around the -red-roofed Norman farm-houses which lay off from -the main highway. Mounds of earth set around the -houses walled in an orchard and an inclosure of many -acres, so that, seen from the exterior, they had the -appearance of being fortified. The lights were out, -and François saw no one. Now and then a sentinel -dog barked as the wanderer went by the gateways, -in wonder at this unusual style of fence. At last -he turned again toward the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The town was quiet. It was after nine at night. -Having purposely lingered thus long, François -approached the back of the inn, and became sure that it -was empty of guests. A little beyond it was the -village church, and as this was lighted, he approached -it with care. The crosses of the burial-ground were -gone. He stumbled over graves, and at last, standing -on a tomb, got a fair glimpse of the interior of the -church, for many of its windows were broken. It was -full of people, and the murmur of noisy debate came -to his ears. He felt that he must learn what was -going on. With this in view, he kept under the deep -shadow of the wall, and soon saw that the outer porch -was crowded with men and women, listening through -the open door. Favored by the darkness, he got -unobserved into this mass of deeply occupied people, -and was able at last to catch a little of what was going -on. Yes; this was the club of Jacobins which his -partner Despard had been sent to organize, one of the -hundreds which soon conquered and led opinion all -through the provinces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He caught the usual denunciation of </span><em class="italics">émigrés</em><span> and of -the </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> aristocrats. He had heard it all before; -it did not help him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very soon an elderly man in peasant dress arose -near the door. He spoke of something which they -had considered as well to be done soon. He thought -it better to wait until Citizen Commissioner Grégoire -arrived. To arrest a </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> aristocrat like Ste. Luce -was of course proper; but the people were excited, and -might do mischief, and they knew that the Great -Committee did not approve of riots. France must -have rest. These outbreaks had ended elsewhere in -the deaths of hundreds of peasants. He bade them -wait, and, in fact, spoke with rare good sense. He -was roughly interrupted. His speech was received -with laughter and contemptuous cries, and, to -François's amazement, there was Despard on his feet, not -twenty feet away. His old partner was somber-looking -and red-eyed, but seemed to have lost his shyness -of speech. He broke out into violent invectives, -charging the previous speaker with indifference to -the good of France. This man was no doubt a traitor. -He had been in the service of the </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span>. He had -advised the people to wait. Were they not the rulers? -The Jacobin clubs would see to this rat of a -commissioner; let him come. Then, leaping on a chair, he -began to contrast the luxury in which Ste. Luce lived -with the meager life of the peasant. He talked of the -great noble's younger life, of his debauchery and -hardness. All knew what he meant. Not he alone -had suffered. How many of the children men liked -to call their own were of noble blood?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His fluent passion, his ease of speech, his apparent -freedom from his usual mood of fear, astonished -François. At last Despard became more excited, -raved wildly, grew incoherent, paused, burst into -horrors of blasphemous allusion, and, utterly exhausted, -reeled, and dropped into his chair, amid wild applauding -cries and a dozen vain efforts of speakers eager to -be heard. As if satisfied, the crowd waited no longer -to listen, and issued out in just the mood Despard -had desired to create. François stepped aside, -unnoticed. Among the last, surrounded by a gesticulating -group, came Despard, silent, exhausted, his head -bent down. A voice cried out: "To-night! Let us -do it to-night!" Despard said slowly: "No, not -to-night. He is not there—he is not there. Perhaps -to-morrow; we shall see. I must have rest—rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he mad?" thought François. "</span><em class="italics">Diable</em><span>! How -he hates him! Why is he not afraid?" He had once -heard the choir-master tell of a feeble, timid nun who -had killed two people; and this man, he supposed, -might be, like her, crazed. No matter; he must use -him. The crowd dispersed, and, following Despard at -a distance, François saw him enter the house of the -village priest, who had long since said his last prayer -in the garden of the Carmelites.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For an hour, and until all was still, François -walked to and fro behind the house. Suddenly a -door opened and closed. François moved around the -house. He saw Despard go out on the road. After -looking about him, the Jacobin walked swiftly away, -and was soon past the farthest houses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>" said François, "let us go after him. -What can he mean? It becomes amusing." Moving -with care in the shadows at the side of the road, he -followed Despard, who walked down the middle of -the highway, now and then stopping short and cracking -his finger-joints, as he used to do when worried, -or clasping his hands over the back of his neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thief smiled as he went. He was again the -savage of the streets, with all his keen wits in play, -and vaguely aware of pleasure in the use of his -training. He looked about him, or stole noiselessly from -one depth of gloom to another across some less -shadowed place. He put out with care one long leg and -then the other tentatively, like great feelers, and yet -got over the ground with speed, as was required, for -Despard walked at a rate which was unusual. The -great ears of his pursuer were on guard. Once, when -Despard stopped of a sudden, François was near -enough to hear him crack his knuckles as he pulled at -them. As Pierre stood, he threw up a hand as it were -in the eager gesture of a speech, or in silent, -custom-born attestation of some mentally recorded vow. -Then he went onward, silent, and was for a moment -lost to view in the aisles of the forest into which he -turned. François moved faster, dimly seeing him -again. The Jacobin hurried on. The man who -followed him was smiling in the darkness, and was -feeding curiosity with the keen satisfaction he felt in a -chase which was not without a purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard seemed to know the great forest well. It -soon became more open. He came to a low garden -wall, and, climbing it, was heard to tumble on the -farther side with a crash of breaking earthenware. -He had come down on a pile of garden pots. The -thief reflected for a moment that his partner must -have lost the agility of his former business, and -himself approached the wall with care. Moving to one -side, he dropped to the ground, as quiet as a prowling cat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no moon, but the night was clear, and -over against the star-lit space he saw the silhouette of -a vast château—angles, gables, turrets with vanes. -The man whom he hunted moved across the garden, -through rose-hedges, under trees, as if reckless as to -being heard. Once he fell, but got up without even -an exclamation; and so on and on in stumbling haste -until he stood upon the broad terrace in front of the -building.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was for a little while at leisure to look -about him. Despard, with a sudden movement, strode -to the foot of the broad steps which led up to the -lofty doorway of the château. Here again he stayed -motionless. François, now used to the partial -obscurity of the night, took quick note of the white -gleam of vases, of a fountain's monotonous murmur, -of statues, dim gray blurs seen against the dark -wood-spaces beyond; the great size of the house he saw, and -that three or four windows showed lights within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What was Despard about to do? François waited. -Then he heard now and then, rising and falling, the -faint notes of a violoncello. At this moment he saw -that Pierre was gesticulating, and at last caught -sound of speech. He was too far away to be clearly -seen or distinctly heard. François sat down, took off -his shoes, tied them over his neck, and went down on -all fours. It was one of his old tricks to amuse thus -the children gathered before the show-booth. He -could become a bear or an elephant, and knew how to -simulate the walk of beasts. Now he approached -Despard on his hands and feet, and, seen in the partial -gloom, would have seemed a queer-looking animal. -A closely clipped row of box lay between them and -bordered the broad roadway leading to the portal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His approach was noiseless. Even if it had not -been, it is unlikely that Despard would have noticed -it. The quadruped knelt, and set his eyes to see and -his ears to hear, being now only six feet away. His -own fate was deeply involved. He cared little for the -marquis, but up out of the dark of memory came the -tender sweetness of the face of the widowed daughter. -No word of her brief pleading was forgotten by this -man who craved regard, affection, respect, -consideration—all that he had not. It was only a flash of -thought, and again he was intently receptive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard stood, shaking his arms wildly, looking -here and there, up and down. At last he spoke, and -so loud that François watched him, amazed at his -unnatural lack of caution.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-morrow I, Pierre Despard, shall be master. I -shall no more be afraid. I shall see thee tremble on -the tumbrel. I shall see thee shudder at the knife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François had an uncontrollable shiver, predictive, -sympathetic. Could he trust this creature? There -was no help for it. He recalled with a smile one of -the Crab's proverbs: "Monsieur Must is a man to -trust." She had many and vile sayings; this was one -of the few that were not swine-wisdom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the man went on speaking, his hands threatened -the silent house or snatched at some unseen thing. -He stood again moveless for a moment, and then -threw out his hands as if in appeal, and called aloud: -"Renée! Renée! art thou here? Oh, could he not -have spared thee to me—to me, who had so little? -And he had so much! Oh, for the name he should -have spared thee! For the shame—the shame. -Renée, his own child's name. My Renée is dead, and -his—his Renée lives; but not long—not long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span>" murmured François. "Let him have the -man. </span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! I should have killed him long ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre was raving, and was only at times to be -understood. He seemed to be seeing this lost Renée, and -was now rational and again incoherent or foolishly -vague.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François hesitated; but at this moment a window -on the second floor was cast open, and a man, who -may have heard Despard, showed himself. François -looked up, and saw a slight figure framed in the -window-space clear against the light behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard cried out in tones of terror: "The marquis! the -marquis!" and, turning, fled down the terrace -and along the avenue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Queer, that," muttered François. "He is afraid. -I must have him." He put on his shoes in haste, and -with great strides pursued the retreating figure, -hearing, as he ran, the servant crying from the window, -"Who goes there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hundred yards away from the house, Despard, -terrified at the nearing steps, turned into a side alley, -and at last tore through a thicket to the left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In an instant François had him by the collar. The -captured man screamed like a child in a panic of alarm, -while François shook him as a terrier shakes a rat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mille tonnerres!</em><span> idiot, keep quiet! Don't kick; it -is no use. Thou wilt have the whole house after thee. -'T is I—François. Keep quiet! Look at me—François. -Dost not hear?" At last he was quieted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What scared thee, </span><em class="italics">mon ami</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw him—I saw the marquis! I saw him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur—the marquis? He is thrice that fellow's size."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were now seated on the ground, Despard -panting, and darting quick glances to right and left -like a frightened animal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Pierre, tell me what all this means. Art -gone clean out of thy wits?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why dost thou ask? Thou dost know well -enough. I have waited—waited. Now I have him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! Thou? Thou wilt never face him. Thou -art afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am now. I shall not be to-morrow night. -There will be hundreds. I shall look! I shall see!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For Heaven's sake," cried François, "talk a little -sense. A man who fears a mouse to talk of killing -this terrible fellow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The law will kill him, not I. The law—the knife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stuff! A certain commissioner, Grégoire, is after -thee, and, worse, after me. He hath a wart on his -nose. I ran away to avoid those cursed Jacobins. -Passport all right—name of Jean François. Mind -thee! My father is old and failing. Thou wilt have -to find me a papa. Grégoire has—he has doubts, this -Grégoire. So have I. When I told him you were -my friend, he shut me up in a cellar, and that I liked -not. I was a fool to run away; but, </span><em class="italics">mon Dieu!</em><span> there -was my errand—to see that poor father—all set out -on my passport, and the man with the wart inquisitive. -I had to get here and find my papa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another man's difficulties took off Pierre's mind -from his own. He was clear enough now, and asked -questions, some hard to answer, but all reasonable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François related his story. The fencing-master had -fallen under suspicion and run away. He, François, -likewise suspected, had got a passport from a Jacobin -fencing-pupil, and come hither to fall on the neck of -his dear friend Pierre. It was neat, and hung together -well. It had many omissions, and as a whole lacked -the fundamental quality of truth, but it answered. -When a man's head is set to save his head, it may not -always be desirable to be accurate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre reflected; then he cried out suddenly: -"This Grégoire! That for him! Let him take -care. Art thou still a Royalist?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was a Jacobin of the best, unjustly -suspected. He was eager to know what deviltry was in -Pierre's mind as to this marquis; and there, too, was -the daughter. If he meant to stir these peasants to -riot in order to gratify himself and his well-justified -hatred, that might sadly influence François's fate. -The central power in Paris was merciless to lawless -violence which did not aid its own purposes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François talked on and on slackly, getting time -to think. Pierre's speech had troubled him. He -was puzzled as he saw more distinctly the nature -of the man whom he was forced to trust. He did -not analyze him. He merely apprehended and -distrusted one who was to-day a shrinking coward -and to-morrow a man to be feared less for what he -might do than for what he might lead others to do -when himself remote from sources of immediate -physical fear. François did not—could not—fully know -that he was now putting himself in the power of one -who was the victim of increasing attacks of -melancholy, with intervals of excitement during which the -victim was eagerly homicidal, and possessed for a -time the recklessness and the cunning of the partly insane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," said François, at last; "you must hide -me until you can find me that papa, or until Citizen -Grégoire has come and gone. I like him not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor I," said Pierre. "But let him take care; I am -not a man to be played with."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François said he should think not, but that if he -meditated an attack on that miserable </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> -yonder, it were better to wait until Grégoire had come -and gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This caution seemed to awaken suspicion. Pierre -turned, and caught François's arm. "Thou art a -spy—a spy of the Convention!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou must be more fond of a joke than was once -thy way. Nonsense! I could go back and warn the -marquis. That would serve the republic, and well, -too; for, by Heaven! if thou art of a mind to burn -houses, Robespierre will shorten thee by a head in no -time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who talks of burning houses? Am I a fool? I—Despard?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, indeed. Thou—" François needed the man's -help, and felt that he was risking his own safety. He -must at least seem to trust him. "Dost thou mean -to arrest Ste. Luce?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But when?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, in a day or two; no hurry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François knew that he was hearing a lie. "Good," -he said. "But I advise thee against violence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There will be none. I control these people. Thou -shouldst see; thou shouldst hear me speak."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us go," said François, and they returned to -the village without a word on either side. The hamlet -was quiet. At the priest's door François said: "Wait -for me. I must fetch my bundle and Toto. I left them -in the wood." Pierre would wait. In an hour his -ex-partner came back, and before he could knock was -admitted by the anxious Jacobin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were within the house, he told François -that he lived alone. An old woman cooked for him, -and came in the morning and went away at dusk. -He, François, should have the garret; and, this being -settled, they carried thither cold meats, bread, cheese, -wine, and water, so as to provision the thief for a few -days. There would be time to talk later. François -asked a single question, saying frankly that he had -heard Pierre speak to his club. Certainly he had -power over the people. What was it he had meant to -do, and when? Despard hesitated. Then the -cunning of a crumbling mind came to his aid, and he -replied lightly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall wait till Grégoire has gone. I told thee -so already. Thy advice was good. I do not know. -We shall see—we shall see." The door closed after -him. The man, descending the stair, paused of a -sudden, the prey of suspicion. Why did François come -hither? Was he a spy of the marquis—of the -Convention? He feared François. To one in his state -of mind little obstacles seem large, great obstacles -small. He must watch him. He was in his power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man left within the room was not less suspicious. -He hung a cover over the single window, locked -the door, and lay down, with Toto at his feet, and at -his side his rapier and pistols. He slept a tranquil -sleep. Most of the next day he sat at the window, -watching through a slit in the curtain the street below -him. People came and went; groups gathered about -the desecrated church; there was much excitement, -but he could hear nothing. At dusk he saw a -number of men, some with sticks and pikes, come toward -the priest's house. Owing to his position, he lost -sight of them as they came nearer, but from the noise -below he presumed them to have entered. He was, -for many reasons, indisposed to remain uninformed. -He waited. The noise increased. Pierre had not -come to visit him, as he had said he would; and where -was that much-desired father? He laughed. "Ah, -Toto, one must needs be his own papa." He had gone -about all day in his stocking-feet to avoid being -overheard. Now he bade Toto be quiet, and, opening the -door, went cautiously down the stone stairway. It -was quite dark. On the last landing he stood, intently -listening. The hallway below was full of men, and -evidently the two rooms on the ground floor were as -crowded. He overheard Despard's voice, angry and -strenuous. The words he could not catch, but the -comments of those in the wide hall were enough. The -commissioner was coming, and would interfere. -Despard was right. The marquis was about to fly, to -emigrate. He must be arrested. They poured out, -shouting, tumultuous, to join the excited mob in the -street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François went quickly up the stair. He cared -little for the marquis, but he cared much for the pale -lady whose face was stamped in his memory. Moreover, -all this ruin and threatened bloodshed were not -to his mind. A day's reflection had enabled him to -conclude that, between Grégoire and Despard, the -situation was perilous, and that he had better -disappear from the scene. Meanwhile he would warn the -marquis, and then go his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put on his shoes, took his bundle, his arms, and -Toto, and, with his cloak on his shoulder, slipped -quietly down-stairs. The house was empty. He went -out the back way unseen, observing that the church -was lighted, and seeing a confused mass of noisy -peasants about the door.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xvi"><span class="bold large">XVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">How François warns the Marquis de Ste. Luce, and of the -battle on the staircase between the old day and the new.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was now close to nine, and again a -bright, cold, starry night. A long -circuit brought him to the highroad. A -mile away he struck into a broad avenue, -and, never pausing, pushed on. His -sense of locality was acute and like that of an animal. -Once or twice he was sure that he heard dull noises -behind him when the sharp night wind blew from the -village.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Toto," he murmured, "keep thou close to heel. -This is our greatest adventure. I would we were out -of it. Ah, the château!" He ran across the flowerbeds, -and with long leaps up the steps, and sounded -a strong summons on the knocker of the great door. -A servant opened it. "Where is the marquis?" What -the man said he did not wait to hear. The -lofty hall was dark, but the principal staircase was -lighted faintly from above. Without a word, François -hurried past the servant and up the stairs. From -the broad landing he saw beyond him a lighted -drawing-room, and heard the notes of a violoncello. There -was the woman, pale and beautiful, in black, her face -upturned, the boy holding before her a sheet of music. -The human richness of the cello's tones sounded -through the great chamber. Where had he seen the -like? Ah, that picture in the vestry of Notre Dame—the -face of St. Cecilia! He had a moment of -intense joy at having come. Till then he had doubted -if it were wise. As he stood, the marquis came -toward him quickly from the side of the room, and two -gentlemen left a card-table and started up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François went in at once, meeting the marquis -within the room. The music ceased; the woman -cried, "</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span>" Every one stared at this strange -figure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, my man? </span><em class="italics">Venire St. Gris!</em><span> 't is my -thief! This way," and he led him aside into a little -room, while the rest, silent and troubled, looked after -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur, to waste no words, these cursed peasants -are on their way to do here what mischief the devil -knows. It is you they want. There is a fool, one -Despard, who leads them. But, </span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span> there is small -time to think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François, breathless, panting, stood looking about -him, now as always observant, and curious as to this -wonderful room and this impassive gentleman. Toto, -as well blown as his master, recognizing the value of -a soft rug, dropped, head on legs, meaning to have at -least the minute's luxury and rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis stood still in thought a moment. "I -am greatly obliged to you; and this is twice—twice. -I expected trouble, but not so soon. Come this way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François followed. Toto kept one eye on him, and -slept with the other. As they reëntered the great -salon, the two gentlemen and Mme. Renée, all visibly -agitated, came to meet them. "What is it?" they -asked. The marquis forestalled further inquiry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My daughter, our kindly peasants will be here in -an hour—no, half an hour, or less. Resistance is -useless. To fly is to confess the need to fly; it is not to -my taste. You gentlemen are better out of this. Go -at once—at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, go!" said madame. "You cannot help us, -and can only make bad worse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They wasted no time, and few words passed. The -little drama played itself quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Adieu, madame!" Madame courtesied. The boy -walked over and stood by his grandfather. He looked -up at his clear-cut face, with its cold smile, and then -at the backs of the retiring gentlemen. He had a -boy's sense of these being deserters. They were gone -in hot haste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mme. Renée came nearer. "We thank you—I -thank you"; and she put out her hand. François -took it awkwardly. A touch of the hand of this -high-bred, saintly lady, </span><em class="italics">grande dame</em><span> and true woman, -singularly disturbed the man. The tremor of a strange -emotion ran over him. He let fall the soft hand, and -drew himself up to the full of his unusual height, -saying: "It is little—very little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now you must go," she said; "and at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course—of course," said Ste. Luce. "Out the -back way. Victor will show you." There were no -further thanks. All such common men had served -the great noble; it seemed of the nature of things. -But the woman said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God protect you! God will know to thank you. -I cannot fitly. Go—go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not mean to go," said François. "Hark! it -is too late." He knew not then, or ever, why he stayed. -The boy looked up at him. Here was another kind -of man, and not a gentleman, either. Why did he -not go?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An old majordomo came with uncertain steps of -nervous haste, crying: "The servants are gone, -monsieur! The people are coming up the avenue! -</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! Now be off with you, Master Thief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No." His head said, "Go"; his heart said, "Stay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By St. Denis, but you are a fool!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François muttered that he had been that always, -and then felt the hand of the boy touch his own. He -called: "Toto! Toto! We will stay." And the dog, -at ease in all society, selected a yet softer rug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis troubled himself no further as to François. -He went out of the room, and was back in a minute, -while the uproar increased, and Mme. Renée, at the -window, pleaded with the thief, urging him to fly, or -cried: "They are coming! Oh, a crowd—a mob—with -torches and arms! The saints protect us! Why -will you not go? Oh, </span><em class="italics">mon père</em><span>—father! thou hast thy -rapier. What canst thou against hundreds—hundreds?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis smiled. "</span><em class="italics">Costume de rigueur</em><span>, my dear. -There will be no bloodshed, my child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And they will all run," cried the boy. "And if -grandpapa has to surrender, he must give up his -sword. When my papa was taken in America, he -had to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" said the mother. The lad was singularly -outside of the tragic shadows of the hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François all this while stood near the window, his -cloak cast back, his queer, smile-lit face intent now on -the mob without, now on the woman, the boy, the -man. "</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>" he muttered. "We are in dangerously -high society." He set his knapsack aside, cast -off his cloak, loosened his rapier in its sheath, looked -to the priming of his pistols, and waited to see what -would happen when this yelling thing out yonder -should burst into action.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They must have made mad haste, madame."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are on the terrace. Mother of Heaven!" -cried the woman. "They wait! A man is speaking -to them. They have torches. Some go—some go to -right around the house." A stone splintered the -window-glass, and she fell back. "Wretches!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis turned to her. "Stay here. I go to -receive our guests."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do as I tell thee. Be still." She caught the boy -to her, and fell into a chair, sobbing. The marquis -called to the quaking majordomo: "Take those two -candelabra. Set them at the foot of the staircase—the -foot." The old servant obeyed without words. -The marquis went by him. He seemed to have -forgotten François, who glanced at Mme. Renée and -followed the master of the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There had been a moment's lull outside. The double -stairway swept down to a landing, and then in one -noble descent to the great deserted hall, where the -faded portraits of lord and lady looked down among -armor and trophies of war and chase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Put those lights there—and there. Get two -more—quick! Set them on the brackets below. One must -see. Put out the lights in the drawing-room. What, -you here yet, Master Thief? What the devil are you -doing here? The deuce!" As he spoke they were -standing together on the broad landing, before them -the great stair which led down to the illuminated hall -below. The marquis had meant to meet these people -outside; he was quiet, cool, the master of many -resources. Surprised at the suddenness of the outbreak, -he still counted, with the courage of habit, on his -personal influence and address. As the marquis spoke, -the roar without broke forth anew. A shower of -stones clattered on door and wall and window with -sharp crash and tinkle of breaking glass. It was -followed by an indescribable tumult—shouts, laughter, -the shrill voices of women, a multitudinous appeal to -fear, ominous, such as no man could hear unmoved. -The animal we call a mob was there—the thing of -moods, like a madman, now destructive, now as a -brute brave, now timid as a house-fly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They beat on the great doors, and of a sudden -seemed to discover that the servants, in flying, had -not secured them. The doors gave way, and those in -front were hurled into the hall by the pressure of -those behind. In an instant it was half full of -peasants armed with all manner of rude weapons. A -dozen had torches of sheep's wool wrapped about -pitchforks and soaked with tar. Their red flames -flared up, with columns above of thick smoke. There -were women, lads. None had muskets. Some looked -about them, curious. Those without shouted and -pressed to get in; but this was no longer easy. A -few of the boldest began to move up the lower steps -of the great staircase. At the landing above, in -partial obscurity, stood the marquis and François. On -the next rise behind them were Mme. Renée and her -boy, unnoticed, unwilling to be left alone. The -stairway and all above it were darker than the red-lighted -hall, where ravage was imminent. A man struck -with a butcher's mallet a suit of armor. It rang with -the blow, and fell with clang and rattle, hurting a -boy, who screamed. The butcher leaped on the -pedestal and yelled, waving one of the iron gauntlets. -They who hesitated, leaderless, at the foot of the dark -ascent turned at the sound of the tumbled past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis cried aloud, "Halt, there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some mischievous lad outside cast a club at the -side window of the hall, and the quartered arms of -Ste. Luce, De Rohan, and their kin fell with sharp, -jangling notes on the floor and on the heads of the -crowd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Halt, I say!" The voice rang out of the gloom, -strong and commanding. The marquis's sword was -out. "Draw, my charming thief. </span><em class="italics">Morituri te salutant</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" cried François—"what is that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing. We are about to die; that is all. Let -us send some couriers to Hades. You should have -gone away. Now you are about to die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François drew his long rapier. He was strangely -elated. "We are going to die, Toto." The dog -barked furiously. "Keep back!" cried his master. -Then he heard Pierre Despard's shrill voice cry out: -"Surrender, Citizen Ste. Luce, or it will be worse for -thee." The mob screamed: "Despard! Despard!" He -was hustled forward, amid renewed shouts, cries, -crash of falling vases, and jangling clatter of broken -glass. The reluctant leader tried to keep near to the -door. The mob was of other mind. He was thrust -through the press to the foot of the stair, with cries -of "Vive Despard! Vive Despard!" The people on -the stair, fearing no resistance, were pushed up, -shouting, "</span><em class="italics">À bas les émigrés!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, then!" cried the marquis. "Get back there, -dogs!" The two blades shot out. A man fell; -another, touched in the shoulder, screamed, and leaped -over the balustrade; the rest fell away, one man on -another, with shrieks and groans. François caught a -lad climbing on the outside of the gilded rail, and, -with a laugh, threw him on the heads of those below. -A joy unknown before possessed the thief—the lust -of battle, the sense of competency. He took in the -whole scene, heart, mind, and body alive as never -before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sang de St. Denis</em><span>! You are a gallant man. But -we are lost. They will be on our backs in a moment; -I hear them." Amid a terrible din, stones and sticks -flew. A pebble struck the marquis in the face. -"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>" he cried, furious, and darted down a step or -two, the quick rapier mercilessly stabbing here and -there. One madder than the rest set a torch to a -priceless tapestry. It flared up, lighting the great -space and the stair, and doing in the end no harm. -Despard, terrified, was pushed forward to the edge of -the fallen bodies on the staircase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surrender!" he called out in a shriek of fear, for -here before him were the two men he most dreaded -on earth. The noise was indescribable. The butcher -beat with the iron gauntlet on a shield beside him; -then he threw the steel glove at François. It flew -high. There was a cry from the space behind. The -little boy screamed shrilly, "They have killed my mama!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François looked behind him. There was now light -enough, and too much. He saw the woman lying, a -convulsed, tumbled heap, on the stair. The marquis -glanced behind him, and lost his cool quietude. He -ran down the stair, stabbing furiously. A half-dozen -dead and wounded lay before him. In an instant he -was back again beside François, his face bleeding from -the stones and sticks thrown at him. François was -standing, tall and terrible in his anger, a pistol in his -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I kill him, monsieur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Heaven, yes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pistol resounded terribly in the vaulted space, -and the brute who had thrown the gauntlet, swaying, -screamed shrilly, and tumbled—dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me your hand!" cried the marquis. "Thank -you, monsieur; the devil hath a recruit. Now -follow me. Let us kill and die. To hell with this -rabble!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait," cried François, and, running down the -steps, put out a long arm and caught Despard. He -hauled him savagely after him, calling out, "Hold the -stair a moment!" In an instant he was on the landing -above, with his prey. His sword he let fall, and -set a pistol to Despard's head. The terror of the -trapped Jacobin was pitiful. He prayed for life. He -would let them all go; he would—he would. François -swung him round to face the suddenly silenced -mob. "Keep still, or I will scatter your brains, fool! -Tell them to go! Tell them to go, or, </span><em class="italics">sang de -Dieu!</em><span> thou art a dead man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre screamed out his orders: "Go—go—all of -you. I order—go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The beast he had trained and led was of no such -mind. A man called out, "Die like a man, coward!" A -stone or two flew. One struck him. The storm -broke out anew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say thy prayers. Thou art dead. Shall I kill him, -monsieur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; not that man—not him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mercy!" screamed Despard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The deuce!" laughed François. "It gets warm, -monsieur. What to do with this coward? Keep still, -insect!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mob had for a little time enough of these -terrible swordsmen on the stair. It was awed, helpless. -Below lay, head down or athwart, three dead men, -and certain wounded, unable to crawl. The mob -shrank away, and, with eyes red in the glare, swayed -to and fro, indecisive, swearing. For a moment no -more missiles were thrown. They awaited the expected -attack from the rear of the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre hung, a limp, inert thing, one arm on the -balustrade, the thief's strong clutch on his neck, -making his shivering bulk a shield against stick and -stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will soon be over," said the marquis, quietly. -"There! I thought so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dull roar was heard, and the crash of broken -glass from somewhere behind them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This signal set loose the cowed mob. Clubs and -stones flew. Something struck Pierre. He squealed -like a hurt animal, pain and terror in the childlike cry. -More men crowded in, and the mass, with shout and -cry, surged forward, breaking mirrors and vases, with -frantic joy in the clatter of destruction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is serious this time," cried the marquis. "Adieu, -my brave fellow." Another tapestry flared up, slowly -burning. "Let us take toll, François. Come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good, monsieur! But my fool here—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the crowd at the door divided. A -dozen soldiers broke in, and with them the man of the -wart—Grégoire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>" cried François; "the Commissioner -Grégoire! The wart! It is time to leave."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Order, here," shouted Grégoire, "in the name of -the law!" The guard pushed in and made a lane. -One or two persistent rioters were collared and -passed out. A dead silence fell on all. The shreds -of the tapestry dropped. The mob fell back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Help! help!" cried Pierre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Morbleu!</em><span> dost thou want to die?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is over," said the marquis. "I prefer my peasants."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire called out, "Where is the mayor?" A -reluctant little man appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Commissioner, these men have slain citizens," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And they did well. France wants order. Out -with you all, or I shall fire on you. Citizens indeed! -See to that stuff burning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The peasants, awed, slunk away. Grégoire coolly -mounted the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold!" cried the marquis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I arrest thee in the name of the law! Here is my -order."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis took it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The light is bad," he said; "but I see it is in -good form. The law I obey—and muskets"; and -then, in a half-whisper to François: "Run! run! I -will hold the stairs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire overheard him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The citizen </span><em class="italics">émigré</em><span>! I arrest him!" and he went -up a step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back!" cried the marquis, lunging fiercely at the -too adventurous commissioner, who leaped down the -stairway with the agility of alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fire!" he cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, monsieur; I can help you no more!" cried -François. As he spoke, he hurled the unhappy -Despard on top of the commissioner. They fell in a -heap. The thief, catching up his rapier, was off and -away through the drawing-room, seeing, as he went, -the woman lying on the floor, her forehead streaming -blood. He picked up his cloak and knapsack, and, -followed by Toto, ran for his life down a long -corridor to the left. At the end, he threw open a window, -and dropped, with the dog under his arm, upon the -roof of a portico over a side door. No one was near. -He called the dog, and fled through the gardens and -into the woods of the chase.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xvii"><span class="bold large">XVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Of how François, escaping, lives in the wood; of how he -sees the daughter of the marquis dying, and knows not -then, or ever after, what it was that hurt him; of how -he becomes homesick for Paris.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The forest was of great extent, and -intersected by wood roads. Along one of -these François ran for an hour or more, -until he was tired, and had put, as he -believed, some miles between himself -and the citizen with the wart. The way became more -narrow, the forest more dense. At last there was -only a broad path. Now and then he saw the north -star, and knew that he was traveling southward. He -came out at dawn on an open space, rocky and barren, -a great rabbit-warren, as he knew by the sudden -stampede of numberless rabbits. He turned aside -into the woods, and a few hundred yards away found -a bit of marsh, and beyond it a brook, with leaf-covered -space beneath tall plane-trees, now bare of foliage. -He drank deep of the welcome water, and sat -down with Toto to rest and think.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon ami</em><span>," he said, "we like adventures; but this -was a little too much." Then he laughed at the -thought of Pierre's terror; but the man with the wart -was not so funny, and the poor lady who was -St. Cecilia, and that cold-blooded devil of a -marquis—"What a man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here were rabbits for food, and only a forest bed, -but, on the whole, better than the Conciergerie or the -Châtelet. He slept long, and was cold, fearing to -make a fire. About eleven next morning he left Toto, -and went with care to the edge of the wood. He -heard noises, and saw boys setting traps; for now my -lord's rabbits were anybody's rabbits. The traps -pleased him. He slipped away. At evening, being -dreadfully hungry, he went to the warren, took two -rabbits out of the traps, and went back. The man's -patience was amazing: not until late at night did he -make a fire to cook his meat; but Toto, less exacting, -was fed at once with the raw flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A week went by, with no more of incident than I -have mentioned. He explored the woods day after -day, and a half-mile away found a farm, whence at -night he took toll of milk, having stolen a pail to aid -him. It was all sadly monotonous, but what else -could he do? Once, after a fortnight, he was bold -enough to wander in daylight within the woods near -the château. It was apparently deserted; at least, he -saw no signs of habitation; nor, later at night, when -he went back, were there lights, except in one room on -the ground floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Francis approached with caution, and, looking -through a window, saw an old man seated by the fire. -Making sure that he was alone, the wanderer tapped on -the pane. The man at the hearthside looked up, and -François saw, as he had suspected, that he was the -majordomo. Again François tapped, and observing -the inmate move toward the door, he hurried thither. -As they met, François hastened to say that he was the -man who aided the marquis, having himself had the -luck to escape. Once reassured, the old majordomo -urged François to enter. But this he would not do. -He had had enough of house-traps. In the forest they -would be secure. To this the servant agreed, and -followed him at once. When at last in the woodland -shelter, François asked: "What of the marquis?" He -had been taken by Grégoire toward Paris, but -was said to have made his escape. "A hard man to -hold is my master; and as to the village, it has had -to pay right dearly, too." Pierre had been arrested, -but was soon set free. And the little gentleman? -He had been taken to a cousin's house in eastern -Normandy. François hesitated over his final question; -he himself could not have told why.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 61%" id="figure-144"> -<span id="the-wanderer-tapped-on-the-pane"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""THE WANDERER TAPPED ON THE PANE."" src="images/img-181.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"THE WANDERER TAPPED ON THE PANE."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Mme. Renée?" he exclaimed, and bent -forward, intent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The countess?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not know. Is she a countess? Mme. Renée—what -of her?—she who was hurt. I passed her; -she lay on the upper stair. There was blood—blood. -The little boy cried to me to help her. My God! I -could not. I—tell me, was she badly hurt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is dying, monsieur. Something—a gauntlet, -they say—struck her head. She has known no one -since."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the château, with a maid and her aunt. She -was too ill to be taken away. She is dying to-night. -They say she cannot last long. God rest her soul! -'T is the end of everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thief stood still a minute; then he said -resolutely, "I must see her." This the old servant -declared impossible; but when François swore that he -would go alone, he finally consented to show him -the way, insisting all the time that he would not -be let in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes they were moving down a long -corridor on the second floor. All was dark until the -majordomo paused at a door under which a line of -light was to be seen. Here he knocked, motioning his -companion to keep back a little. The door opened, -and a gaunt middle-aged lady came forth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This man—this gentleman would see the countess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want?" she said, facing François. -"My niece is dying—murdered. You have done your -cruel work. Would you trouble the dead?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame," said François, "I am he who held the -stair with the marquis. I am no Jacobin. I shot the -man who wounded the countess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You! He is dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank God! May I see the lady?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is dying; why should you see her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame, I am a poor unhappy thief. Once this -lady offered me help—a chance, a better life. I was -a fool; I let it go by. I—let me see her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in," said the gentlewoman; and, with no -more words, he entered after her, and approached the -bed, leaving his dog outside. What he beheld he -neither forgot nor, I believe, save in his memoirs, ever -spoke of to any one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw a white face on the pillow; a deep-red spot -on each cheek; eyes with the glaze of swift-coming -death. He fell on his knees beside her, and stayed -motionless, watching the sweat on the brow, the breath -quicken and then stop as if it would not come again. -At last he touched the hand. It was cold, and he -withdrew his own hand, shrinking back. He had seen -death, but no death like this. He said, "Madame." There -was no answer. He looked up at the older -woman. "She is dying; she does not hear."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 66%" id="figure-145"> -<span id="he-saw-a-white-face-on-the-pillow"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HE SAW A WHITE FACE ON THE PILLOW."" src="images/img-187.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HE SAW A WHITE FACE ON THE PILLOW."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; nor ever will in this world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned, bent down, and kissed the fringe of the -coverlet. Then he arose, shaken by the strongest -emotion life had brought to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you," he said, and moved to the door. -He paused outside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure the beast is dead—the man who did -that—that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry—sorry." He shook his long arms in -the air. "I should like now to kill him -again—again!" He walked swiftly away, and, not waiting -for the servant, left the house and found his way back -to his forest shelter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All night long he sat without a fire, indifferent to -poor Toto's efforts to get a little notice, not feeling the -cold, a sorely wounded man, with a scar on his -memory which no after happiness could ever erase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next night he found the majordomo, and learned -that the countess was dead. He took away blankets -and the provisions bountifully supplied, and once -more rejoined his dog.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this manner the last days of February were -passed; and in March the spring began to appear, but -with it a new peril. The woodmen went here and -there at work, and thrice he narrowly escaped being -seen. Early in April his friend the majordomo -disappeared, and the great château was infested with men -who came and went—for what he knew not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He began to be troubled with a feverish desire to -see the streets of Paris. At last he made up his mind -to leave his forest shelter; and sometime in April, -having hesitated long, he set out. He hid all day in -woods, and walked at night, until he reached the -Seine. With this as a guide, he went on, robbing -hen-houses of eggs, and milking cows, until he was -close to Paris. How to enter it he did not know. -The times were doubly dangerous. Spies and -suspicion were everywhere to be dreaded. His papers had -no certifications from the places he was presumed to -have visited. Formidable in the background he saw -the man Grégoire, the commissioner with the wart of -ill luck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How the thief and his dog lived near to Paris in -woods and fields, there is no need to tell in detail. -The month of June was come in this year of 1793. -Marat was ill, and Charlotte Corday on her way to -forestall the decree of nature. La Vendée was up. -The Girondists had fallen, the great cities of the South -were in uproar, the enemy was on the frontier, and -the rule of France in the competent and remorseless -hands of the Committee of Public Safety. All around -Paris the country was infested with wandering people -who, for the most part, like François, had good reason -to fear. There were beggars, thieves, persecuted -nobles, those who had no mind to face the foe as -volunteers. Now and then François, ever cautious, -picked up a little news on a scrap of gazette found by -the wayside. He read that Citizen Amar was of the -Great Committee of General Security. François laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Toto, dost thou think this will add to thy master's -security? That was the gentleman with the -emigrative mouth. </span><em class="italics">Ami</em><span>, he is still alive. They must be -tough, these Jacobins. What fun, Toto! I can see -him pinned to the door like a beetle, and that marquis -with a face, Toto, like a white plaster cast those -Italians used to sell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like not M. Amar. Toto, we are unhappy in our -acquaintances. But the man of the wart is the -worst." This was François's black beast; why, he -could not have said. Amar, </span><em class="italics">le farouche</em><span>, was really -a more fatal foe. The citizen who dressed neatly, and -wore spectacles over green eyes, and was in debt to -the conjurer for a not desirable forecast of fortune, -was a yet more sinister acquaintance. Yet it was -Citizen Grégoire who came to François in dreams, and -the bare thought of whom could chop short a laugh as -surely as Mother Guillotine, the merciless.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xviii"><span class="bold large">XVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Wherein is told how François reënters Paris, and lodges -with the Crab; and of how Toto is near to death by the -guillotine. François meets Despard and the marquis, -who warns him and is warned.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A few days later, when lying behind a -deserted hut at dusk, François heard a -noise of military music, and ventured -forth on the road leading to the barrier. -Many hundreds of the wounded from -the frontier were passing, in wagons or on foot. The -communes and clubs were out to meet them. The -cabarets outside of the gate poured forth a noisy -company. The road was full. Who should stop the -free citizens or the ladies of the fish-market, come -to welcome patriot volunteers? Here was an escort -of troops, wild, triumphant greeting of captured -Austrian flags, many wounded in wagons, many -more afoot, marching wearily. Those who walked -the people must aid. The ranks were soon broken, -and all was good-natured tumult. Here was help for -heroes—wine, bread, eager aid of an arm. Some -who were dragging along on crutches, to get a little -relief from jolting wagons, were hoisted, to their -discomfort, on the shoulders of friendly patriots not -eager to volunteer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François, tucking Toto under his cloak, edged -himself into the broken ranks of the heroes of -Hondschoote and Wattignies. "We are many," he said -to a man beside him, as tattered as he, for there was -scarcely a rag of uniform. "Jolly to get home again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sacré!</em><span> not if they guillotined thy father a week ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span> is that so? But patience, and hold thy -tongue, citizen. </span><em class="italics">Tonnerre!</em><span> my leg." He was limping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thy shoulder, friend"—to a blouse. "</span><em class="italics">Tiens!</em><span> that -is better. The Austrian bullets have a liking for one's -bones. Crack! crack! I can hear them yet. They -do not spare the officers any more than they do the -privates."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Should they carry the citizen officer—take care of -his sword? François thanked them; the citizens must -be careful of his leg; and there was François on the -shoulders of two big Jacobins, like a dozen more; for -it was who should help, and a shouting, good-humored -crowd. François was not altogether well pleased at -his elevation; he dropped forward his too well-known -face. There was a jam at the barrier. Had these -citizen soldiers their passes, as provided? François -was weak; he suffered, poor fellow! The Jacobins and -the women roared derisively: "Passes for heroes?" All -order was lost. They were through, and in the -Rue d'Enfer. Would the good citizens let him walk? -He was heavy, and they were pleased to be relieved -of one hundred and ninety-five pounds of wounded hero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile there was some renewed order in the -broken formation; yet now and then men fell out -to meet sweethearts or friends, usually coming back -again to the ranks. The hint was good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ciel!</em><span> comrade, there is my mother!" The crowd -gave way as the hero hobbled out of the line. He -called out: "</span><em class="italics">Mère, mère</em><span>—mother! Here! 'T is -I—Adolphe. The deuce! she is so deaf."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where was she? Citizens were eager to help him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," he cried, "she saw me not"; and, turning into -a side street near the asylum, limped painfully in -pursuit of the mother who was afflicted with deafness. -Toto followed. Once around a corner, the lameness -disappeared. In the gathering dusk he set out for -the Cité.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It must be Quatre Pattes, Toto. Come along. A -bad year, my friend, to have lost a father and a -mother. No matter; we are in Paris."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He loved the streets. "Ah, there is Notre Dame -and the river!" He was happy, and went along -laughing, and at last turned into a small café near -to his old home in the Rue des Chanteurs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was tired and hungry, and, as he agreeably -remembered, well off, having had small chance to -spend the money with which he had been generously -provided by Achille Gamel. The bread and cheese -were good, and the wine was not bad. He asked for -tobacco and a pipe. Would the host find him "L'Ami -du Peuple"? He was a sublieutenant, wounded on -the frontier; but, </span><em class="italics">dame!</em><span> to get home was happiness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two men sat down by him, and talked. Good -Jacobins were these, in the dirty uniforms of the -sansculotte army which kept Paris in order at the -rate of forty sous a day. "Bad wages, citizen -lieutenant," they said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hero of the frontier was worse off—no pay for -three months. He related his battles; and now he -must go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Toto." Toto had been wounded at Wattignies; -he was well now, and would be promoted. -"</span><em class="italics">Bon soir</em><span>, comrades." In fact, he was wildly gay, -glad to be back in Paris.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, at last, before a house of the date of -Henri II. Its heavy, narrow door, and a slit in the -wall for a window, told of days when every man's -house was a fortress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is our best chance, Toto; but best may be bad. -We must do something." He jingled the bell. The -cord was drawn by the concierge within, so as to lift -the latch, and François entered the hall. To right -was the Crab's den, and there within was Quatre -Pattes. He saw the thin purple nose, the bleared red -eyes, the bearded chin, and the two sticks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mille tonnerres!</em><span> my child, it is thou. And where -hast thou been? There is no thief like thee. Come -and laugh for thy old mother." She welcomed him -in thieves' slang, vile, profuse, and emphatic. Had -he any money? Yes, a little; business was good in -the provinces; and would she house him? Here was -a louis d'or for </span><em class="italics">maman</em><span>; and what was this abominable -</span><em class="italics">carte de sûreté</em><span>, this new trap? She explained. He -need have no fear; she would get him one. He had -been in bad company, she had heard; for a Jacobin -had told her of the fencing-school, and thither, too -late, she had gone to get a little help. He had nearly -killed Amar, </span><em class="italics">le farouche</em><span>, and that injured citizen was -said to desire his society. But that was long ago; -and Paris lived fast, and was gay, and forgot easily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François had no wish to refresh Citizen Amar's -memory. He asked lightly if she had ever seen -Grégoire, the commissioner to Normandy?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mme. Quatre Pattes had never seen him. He was -of the Great Committee—a patriot of the best, like -herself. Did he know Grégoire? He told her frankly -that he had been arrested by Grégoire, and had -escaped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art the first, my child!" she cried, her jaws -champing as if she were eating. "Thou hast a fine -taste in the choosing of enemies. I would not be in -thy skin for a hundred louis; and now a cat of the -night thou must be. I can hide thee awhile; and if -thou dost feed me well, the mama-crab will care for -thee. No one need know thou art here. Come, get -thee a few louis, and we will buy a fine card of safety, -and christen thee to suit. Ha, ha! my little one!" -and she beat with her sticks on the floor.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 60%" id="figure-146"> -<span id="quatre-pattes"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="QUATRE PATTES." src="images/img-195.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">QUATRE PATTES.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our thief was now back in his garret, having lost -as many fair chances of prosperity as did Murad -the Unlucky. He reflected much in these late -autumn months of 1793, being for his wants rich, and -therefore in no necessity to give a thought to -methods of getting his daily diet. During the daytime -Quatre Pattes insisted on his secluding himself in -his garret. At night he left Toto with the Crab, -who fed him well, and was therefore liked by a -revolutionary dog without prejudices. From these -night prowls François returned with sad complaints -of the way the republicans guarded their slim purses; -in fact, at this time he avoided adventures, stole from -no one, and gave of his lessening store what barely -contented Mme. Quatre Pattes. Were I to say that his -goodness came from newly acquired views of life, I -should mislead. He was as honest as ever, which is -to say he took no thought at all as to ethical questions. -We are said to be children of circumstance, which -may be described as the environment of the hour. -This is true of the feeble; but character was the more -despotic parent in this resolute man, who could wrestle -strenuously with circumstance. He was a Royalist -because he liked show and color and the fine manners -of the great; in the past he stole because he knew no -other way to live. His admirable health was a -contribution to his natural cheerfulness. He still had -simple likings—for the country, for animals, and -would have had for books had they been easy to -get, or had he known how to get those which would -have fed his mind and had sauce of interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His surroundings would have surely and hopelessly -degraded a less permanent character, and a nature -without his ingrained gaiety would have taken more -steadily some thought of the far future. He knew -too well how the thief's life ended: the galleys, the -wheel, the lonely death-bed in the hospital. If he -reflected on it at all, as he seems to have done at this -time, it was because of his long, weary days in the -attic. The immediate future at this period did -disturb him, but never long. He liked to talk, and, -lacking society, talked more and more to himself -aloud, with Toto for an audience which never ceased -to attend. He who is pleased with his own talk -cannot easily be bored; and so he talked, until Quatre -Pattes, who loved keyholes and to listen, thought he -must be out of his head. She herself was always -either silent or boisterous, and was as to this like -other beasts of prey. When in calamity François -was too busy to be serious. When at ease the -mirthfulness of his natural man forbade argument as to -what the dice-box of to-morrow would offer; for to -laugh is to hope, and François, as we know, laughed -much, well, and often.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were many times in his life when to have been -honestly loved by a woman capable of comprehending -both his strength and his weakness would, I think, -have given him the chance to live a better life. But -how was this possible to one who lived as he lived—who -was what he was?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To be merely liked was pleasant to François, and -appealed with the most subtle form of flattery to his -immense self-esteem. The man was sensitive, and in -after days, when in an atmosphere of refinement, -would never speak of the terrible women he had -known too well in the Cité. Having no longer the -distraction of the streets, he was at present condemned -to live long hours with no society but that of Toto -and the animal Quatre Pattes. He bought a small -field-glass, and studied the habits of his neighbors far -and near, and once more took interest in the feline -owners of the roof-tops. Quatre Pattes fed him well, -and brought him some of the old gazettes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He read how, on that frightful 5th of September, -now past, one of the five complementary days of the -republican calendar, on motion of Barrere, "Terror" -was decreed by the Convention to be the order of the -day. It was indeed the birth-hour of the Terror. The -Great Committee was in power. The revolutionary -tribunals were multiplied. The law of suspected -persons was drawn with care by the great jurist Merlin -of Douai. Behind these many man-traps was the -Committee of Public Safety, with despotic power -over the persons of all men, and in full control of the -prisons. To it the subcommittees reported arrests; -it secured the prisoners who were to be tried; it saw -to the carrying out of all sentences; it kept the peace -in Paris with an array of sansculottes, and fed the -guillotine daily. Of this stern mechanism, strong of -head and incapable of pity, was Pierre André Amar; -as, one day, François read with his full share of the -Terror. There was soon enough of it to supply all -France.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before November came, François, pretending to -have been in luck, supplied the Crab with six louis. -She exacted two more, and how much she kept none -may know. He had very few left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was as good as her word. "Here, my little -one, is the </span><em class="italics">carte de sûreté</em><span> from the committee of this -section." The description was taken from his -passport. He was no more to be François, but François -Beau. If he would denounce one or two people, the -committee would indorse his card as that of "a good -patriot who deserved well of the country." There -was the lame cobbler over the way, who talked -loosely, and to whom the Crab owed money; that -would be useful and convenient. François shivered -all down his long back; he would see. Meanwhile, as -he considered, Quatre Pattes twisted her bent spine, -rattled her two sticks, and looked up at him sidewise -with evil eyes, bidding him have a care, and not get -his good mama into trouble, or else, or else—François -felt that some night he might have to wring that -wrinkled neck. He was uneasy, and with good reason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could bear the confinement no longer, and in -December began to find his cash getting low. He had -let his beard grow, and taken to long, tight pantaloons -and a red cap. He felt that, come what might, he -must take the risks of daylight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chances against him were small. The numberless -denunciations of the winter fell chiefly on the rich, -the rash in talk, the foes of the strong heads who were -ably and mercilessly ruling France. The poor, the -obscure, and the cautious bourgeoisie were as a rule safe -until, in the spring, something like a homicidal mania -took possession of Robespierre and others, who, -although they were the most intelligent of the Great -Committee, were never in control of a steady majority, -and began to fear for their own heads.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Outwardly Paris was gay. The restaurateurs made -money; the people were fed by levies of grain on the -farmers; and the tumbrel, on its hideous way, rarely -excited much attention. The autumn and winter of -'93 were not without peril or adventure for the thief. -The Palais d'Égalité, once royal, was his favored -resort, and with his well-trained sleight of hand he -managed to justify the name of the place by efforts -to equalize the distribution of what money was left to -his own advantage and to the satisfaction of the Crab.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dark drama went on; but, except the tricoteuses -who, like Quatre Pattes, went daily to see the -guillotine at work, comparatively few attended this daily -spectacle. Paris, wearied of crime and too much -politics, was tired of the monotony of slaughter, which -had now no shadow of excuse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would the citizen miss the death of the Austrian, -the ex-queen?" He would not; he knew better than -to say no to Quatre Pattes. Would he go with her? -She could get him a good place, and all Paris would -be there. All Paris was not to his desire. He said -he would go alone. A walk with this four-footed -creature and the rattle of her becketing sticks he liked -not. He called his dog, and, avoiding the vast -assemblage on the Place of the Revolution, found his way -to the Rue St. Honoré.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood in a crowd against a house. The tumbrel -came slowly, and, because of the surging mass of -people, paused opposite to him. He looked about -him. In a group at a window on the far side of -the street he saw a man apparently sketching the sad -figure in the cart. It seemed devilish to this poor -outcast of the Cité. His face flushed; he asked who -that was in the window, at which many were staring. -The man he addressed was in black, and looked to be -an ex-abbé.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My son," he said quietly, and with no evidence of -caution—"my son, 't is David the painter, he of the -Great Committee. He hath no heart; but in another -world he will get it again, and then—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take care!" said François. The shouting crowd -cried: "Messalina! Down with the Austrian!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François looked, and saw the bent figure seated in -the cart. Pale it was, with a red spot on each cheek, -haggard; her gray hair cut close, pitiful; with -pendent breasts uncorseted, lost to the horrors of the -insults hurled at her abject state. François moved -away, and the tumbrel went rumbling on. An hour -later he was crossing the broad Elysian Fields amid -the scattered crowd. It was over, and few cared. -The booths were selling toy guillotines. Of a sudden -he missed Toto. He called him, and, hearing him -bark, pushed in haste into a large tent filled with -women and children and with men in blouses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The citizen has not paid," cried the doorkeeper. -François saw Toto struggling in the hands of a -red-bearded man who was crying out: "Enter! enter! -Trial and execution of an </span><em class="italics">émigré</em><span> dog. </span><em class="italics">Voilà</em><span>, citizens! -Range yourselves." There was the red guillotine, -the basket, the sawdust, and poor Toto howling. It -was a spectacle which much amused the lower class -of Jacobins. "</span><em class="italics">À bas le chien aristocrate!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François advanced with his cheerful smile. "The -citizen is mistaken; it is my dog."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is his </span><em class="italics">carte de sûreté</em><span>?" laughed the man. -"Up with him for trial!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Four monkeys were the judges. Jeers and laughter -greeted François: "No, no; go on!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He caught the man by the arm. The fellow let fall -Toto, who made a hasty exit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I denounce thee for an enemy of the republic!" -cried the showman. "Seize him! seize him!" Francois -broke away, and, using his long arms, reached -the entrance. There was no earnest desire to stop -him. The doorkeeper caught him by the collar. He -kicked as only a master of the </span><em class="italics">savate</em><span> knows how to -kick, and, free of the grip, called to Toto, and plunged -into a crowd which made no effort to recapture him. -He moved with them, and soon turned to cross the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Midway on the bridge he came face to face with -Despard. He was ragged and fleshless, the shadow -of the well-fed Jacobin he had last seen in the château -of Ste. Luce.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ciel!</em><span>" exclaimed François, "thou art starved." He -had no grudge against his old partner, but he -fully appreciated the danger of this encounter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was comforted by the man's alarm. "Come," -said François, and took him into a little drinking-shop. -It was deserted at this time of day. He easily drew -out all he desired to know. Mme. Renée was assuredly -dead; and he who threw the gauntlet, the butcher, -dead also; and three or more on the fatal stairway. -Grégoire had punished the village severely; heads -had fallen. Pierre's friend Robespierre had -abandoned him, had even threatened him—Pierre! but he -had escaped any worse fate. He was half famished; -and would François help him? François ordered -bread and cheese and wine. He would see what next -to do. And what of the marquis? He had not -appeared in the lists of the guillotined; but he might -readily have died unnamed, and escaped François's -notice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Pierre, sadly; "he lives. Of course he -lives. The devil cannot die. He got away from -Grégoire. Who could keep that man? But for thee -and the accursed commissioner, I should have had -my revenge. We shall meet some day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I find him for thee?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span> no. Let us go out. I am uneasy; I am afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But of what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know. I am afraid. I am accursed with -fear. I am afraid as a man is in a dream. -Somewhere else I shall cease to fear. Let us go." He -was in a sweat of pure causeless terror, the anguish -of an emotion the more terrible for its lack of reason. -It was the inexplicable torment of one of the forms -of growing insanity. François looked on, amazed and -pitiful. The man's eyes wandered here and there; -he got up, and sat down again, went to the door, -looked about him, and came back. At last, as -François began to consider how to be free of a dubious -acquaintance, Pierre said drearily:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it easy to die? I should like to die. If I were -brave like thee, I should drown myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, well," laughed François, "there is the -guillotine—short and comfortable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou wilt not denounce me?" he cried, leaping -to his feet. "I have my </span><em class="italics">carte</em><span>; I will let thee see -it." He was like a scared child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense!" cried François, with good-humored -amusement. "I must go. Here is a gold louis. -Why dost thou not rob a few Jacobins?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush! I dare not; I was brave once. Thou didst -save me once; help me now. Thou wilt not let me -starve?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, indeed. I? Not I. Take care of thy louis; -they are scarce. Meet me here at this hour in a week. -Adieu. At this hour, mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Art thou going to leave me alone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was grieved, but could not remain, and -hastened away, while Pierre looked after him with -melancholy eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Toto," he said, as he turned a corner. "The -man is mad. Let us thank the </span><em class="italics">bon Dieu</em><span> we never have -had a wife; and the rest of our relatives we have -buried—papa and mama, and all the family."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not in the man to forget, and a week later -he cautiously entered the little café to keep his -engagement. It was noisy. To his surprise, he saw Pierre -declaiming lustily to half a dozen blouses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" he cried, seeing François, "</span><em class="italics">mon ami</em><span>, here is -a seat. There is good news from the frontier. A -glass for the citizen." Clink, clink. "À vous*. Death -to royal rats!" He went on in a wild way until the -workmen had gone, and François stopped him with:</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 70%" id="figure-147"> -<span id="death-to-royal-rats"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'DEATH TO ROYAL RATS!'"" src="images/img-207.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'DEATH TO ROYAL RATS!'"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce has come to thee?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothing. I have had one of the fits you know -of; I am always better after them. </span><em class="italics">Diable!</em><span> no -marquis could scare me to-day. I saw him last week, I -did. I followed him. It is he who would have been -scared. I—I missed him in a crowd. In a minute I -should have had him, like that," and he turned a -glass upside down so as to capture a fly which was -foraging on the table—"like </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>," he repeated -triumphantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François watched him, and saw a flushed face, -tremulous hands, staring eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is afraid; he can't get out"; and the man -laughed low, pointing to his prisoner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And thou wouldst have denounced him?" said -Francis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not? He is one of them. He is hell; he is -the devil! I saw no officers to help me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art cracked; thou wilt denounce me next."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre looked at François with unusual steadiness -of gaze, hesitated, and replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought of it; you are all for these people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François, in turn, looked his man over curiously. -He had now a queer expression of self-satisfied -elation. "A good joke, that," said François. "Wait a -moment; I left Toto outside." He went to the door, -and looked up and down the street. "Wait," he cried -to Pierre. "Hang the dog!" And in an instant he -had left the citizen to abide his return. Once in his -garret, he cried: "Toto, thou hast no sense. The -sane scoundrels are bad enough, but why didst thou -fetch on me this crazy rascal? And so the marquis -got away, Toto. The man with the wart is not as -clever as I thought him. But some folks have luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sad winter of the Terror wore on, while François -continued to live unmolested, and pursued his -estimable occupation always with an easy conscience, -but often with an uneasy mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was near the end of the pleasant month of May, -1794—the month Prairial of the new calendar. The -roses were in bloom. The violets were seeking -sunshine here and there, half hidden in the rare grasses -of the trampled space of the Place of the Revolution. -On the six bridges which spanned the canals, its -boundaries, children were looking at the swans. In -the middle space, the scaffold and cross-beams of the -guillotine rose dark red against the blue sky of this -afternoon of spring. Two untidy soldiers marched -back and forth beside it. The every-day tragedy of -the morning was over; why should the afternoon -remember? The great city seemed to have neither -heart nor memory. The drum-beat of a regiment -going to the front rang clear down the Quai des -Tuileries. People ran to see; children and their -nurses left the swans. The birds in the trees listened, -and, liking not this crude music, took wing, and -perched on the beams of the monstrous thing in the -center of the Place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François crossed the open ground, with Toto close -to heel. The keeper of the little café where he liked -to sit had just told him that the citizen with whom -he had twice come thither had been asking for him, -and that with this citizen had also come once a stout -man, who would know where Citizen François lived. -This last was of the fourth section, one Grégoire, a -man with a wart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou didst notice the man?" said François, much -troubled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Notice him? I should think so. </span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! I am -of the Midi. A wart on a man's nose is bad luck; -the mother of that man saw a cocatrice egg in the -barn-yard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A cocatrice egg! What the mischief is that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tiens!</em><span> if you were of the Midi, you would know. -When a hen cackles loud, 't is that she hath laid a -great egg; the father is a basilisk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tonnerre!</em><span> a basilisk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou must crush the egg, and not look, else there -is trouble; thy next child will have warts, or his -eyebrows will meet, and then look out!" François's -superstition was vastly reinforced by this legend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span>" he cried; "he hath both." This -François was a bold man when he had to meet danger -face to face, but, like a child as to many things, afraid -where a less imaginative man would have been -devoid of fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just now he had been turning over in his mind the -chance of the Crab's betraying him. She had been -prowling about his garret, and had stolen a well-hidden -score of francs. He dared not complain. What scant -possessions he had would fall into her claws if at any -minute she might choose to denounce him. Of late, -purses were too well guarded. The display of luxury -in lace handkerchiefs and gold seals no longer afforded -an available resource. Except Robespierre, who -defied popular sentiment, few men carried two watches. -Quatre Pattes had the appetite of a winter wolf, and -was becoming more and more exacting. She asked -why he did not sell his rapier. If it were known that -he withheld weapons such as the republic claimed, -there might be trouble. Why had he not given up -his pistols? They were gold-mounted, and had -belonged to a grandee of Spain. Why not sell them? -They would fetch a deal of money.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was not inclined to part with his arms, and -least of all with his rapier. At last he gave her one -pistol, which she sold; the other he hung high up on -a peg set within the chimney, having hidden in its -barrel the precious little document he had captured -from Citizen Grégoire in that pleasant inn on the -Seine, where an agreeable evening had ended with -such unaccountable abruptness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next to the Crab's treachery, he feared most to -meet Despard when the Jacobin should chance to be -in one of those aggressive moods which were so -puzzling to François. But above all did he dread -Grégoire, and grew terrified as he reflected on that -business of the cocatrice egg and the basilisk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed as though he were doomed, and this most -cheery of men became distinctly unhappy. "That -</span><em class="italics">sacré</em><span> basilisk!" he muttered, and, less on guard -than usual, wandered on, taking stock of his perplexities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Near to the foundations of the Madeleine, where -work had long since ceased, he paused to recreate -himself with a puppet-show. The vanquished fiend -was Citizen </span><em class="italics">Jean Boule</em><span>. He was soon guillotined. -The crowd was merry, and François, refreshed, -contributed his own share of appreciative mirth. In the -throng he unluckily set his big foot on the toes of a -little Jacobin dressed in the extreme of the fashions -these gentry affected. The small man was not to be -placated by François's abundant excuses, and -demanded the citizen's card of safety. It was an -everyday matter. No one dared to refuse. There were -half-insane men, in those times, who satisfied their -patriotism by continually exacting cards from timid -women or from any well-dressed man. To decline -was to break the law. François obeyed with the -utmost civility. The little man returned the card.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The citizen is of the best of the sections, but, -</span><em class="italics">sacré!</em><span> he is heavy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Much relieved, François went on. In the Rue -St. Honoré the corner of a lace handkerchief invited a -transfer, and lace handkerchiefs were rare. As there -was a small, well-occupied group looking through a -shop-window at a caricature of Mr. Pitt, the occasion -appeared propitious, and the handkerchief changed -owners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A minute later a man touched François's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thy card, citizen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The deuce!" said the thief, as he turned. "This -gets monotonous. </span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu</em><span>, the marquis!" he exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush! Your card. You are followed—watched. -There is this one chance." Francis produced his -card. The marquis murmured, "Take care; obey -me." Holding the card in his hand, he called -authoritatively to a municipal guard who was passing. The -man stopped, but no one else paused. Curiosity was -perilous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This good citizen is followed by that man yonder—the -one with the torn bonnet. I know the citizen. -Here is his card and mine. Just tell that fellow to -be careful"; and he slipped his own card of safety -into the guard's hand, and under it three louis. The -guard hesitated; then he glanced at the card.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T is in order, and countersigned by Vadier of the -Great Committee. These spies are too busy; I will -settle the fellow. Good morning, citizens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They moved away quietly, in no apparent haste. -As they were turning a corner, the thief looked back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a lost man, monsieur!" He saw, far away, -the man of the torn red bonnet, and with him Quatre -Pattes. She was evidently in a rage. He understood -at once. In the thieves' quarter denunciations were -not in favor. She knew too well the swift justice of -this bivouac of outcasts to risk being suspected as a -traitor to its code. The night before, he had been -unable to give her money, and had again refused to -sell his weapons. She had angrily reminded him that -he was in her power, and he had for the first time -declared that he would let the Cité settle with her. He -had been rash, and now, too late, he knew it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hastily explained his sad case to the disguised -gentleman, and was on the point of telling him that -this Quatre Pattes was that Mme. Quintette who had -once been his agent, and would probably be an enemy -not to be despised. He glanced at the marquis, and, -wisely or not, held his tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must part here," said the gentleman. He had -hesitated when chance led him to the neighborhood of -the thief in trouble; but he was a courageous man, -and disliked to owe to an inferior any such service as -François had more than once rendered him. Vadier's -sign manual on his own card of safety was an -unquestioned assurance of patriotism; it had cost him a -round sum, but it had its value.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he said, "I must leave you," the thief returned:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry, monsieur; I know not what to do or -where to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor I," replied Ste. Luce, coldly. "Nor, for that -matter, a thousand men in Paris to-day." He had -paid a debt, and meant to be rid of a disreputable -and dangerous acquaintance. "Better luck to you!" -he added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I say to monsieur, who has helped me, that -Despard is in Paris, and has seen him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis turned. "Why did not you kill him -when you had the chance?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You forbade me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is true—quite true. Had you done it -without asking me, I had been better pleased."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had no grudge against him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, thank you, my man; I can look out -for myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will monsieur accept the gratitude of a poor devil -of a thief?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that is all right. One word more. It is as -well to tell you, my man, how I came to speak to -you. When first I observed you, as I fell behind, I -saw that terrible old witch with two sticks pointing -you out to the fellow with the torn cap; then he -followed you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was Quatre Pattes, monsieur. I lodge in her house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A good name, I should say. I wish you better -luck and safer lodgings. Adieu"; and he went quietly -on his way.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xix"><span class="bold large">XIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Of the sorrowful life of loneliness, of François's arrest, -and of those he met in prison.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>François stood still. He was alone, -and felt of a sudden, as never before, -the solitude of an uncompanioned life. -The subtle influence of the Terror had -begun to sap the foundations of even -his resolute cheerfulness. It was this constancy of -dread which to some natures made the terrible -certainties of the prisons a kind of relief. He looked -after the retreating figure as it moved along the </span><em class="italics">quai</em><span> -and was lost to view in the Rue des Petits-Augustines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Toto," he said, "I would I had his clever head. -When 't is a question of hearts, </span><em class="italics">mon ami</em><span>, I would -rather have thine. And now, what to do?" At last -he moved swiftly along the borders of the Seine, and -soon regained his own room. The Crab would go to -the afternoon market; her net swung over her arm at -the time he had seen her; and, as she always moved -slowly, he had ample leisure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He packed his bag, and taking from his pistol the -paper he had secured when in company with Grégoire, -replaced it under the lining of his shoe. Its value he -very well knew. After a moment's reflection, he put -his pistol back on the peg high up in the chimney. -He had been in the house nearly an hour, and was -ready to leave, when he heard feet, and a knock at -the locked door. A voice cried:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the name of the republic, open!" He knew -that he was lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! Toto. We are done for, my little one"; -and then, without hesitation, he opened the door. -Three municipals entered. One of them said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We arrest thee, citizen, as an </span><em class="italics">émigré</em><span> returned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Émigré</em><span>!" and he laughed in his usual hearty way. -"If I had been that, no one would have caught me -back in France. Ah, well, I am ready, citizen. Here -is an old rapier. The woman will sell it; better to -give it to thee or to the republic." He took up his -slender baggage, and followed them. When they -were down-stairs, he asked leave to see the Crab. -The guard called her out of her den.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Chère maman</em><span>," said François, "this is thy doing. -These good citizens have my rapier, and the pistol is -gone. Not a sou is left thee. Thou hast killed the -goose that laid the golden eggs. Alas!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Crab rattled her claws on the sticks, and these -on the floor, and spat vileness of thieves' slang, -declaring it a wicked lie. Would they take the -silver-hilted sword? It was hers, and he owed her rent. -At last, laughing, the guards secured the thief's -hands behind his back, and marched him away to -the revolutionary committee of the section Franklin. -Here no time was lost with the </span><em class="italics">émigré</em><span>, who was sent -off in a hurry to the prison of the Madelonnettes, with -poor Toto trotting after him, much perplexed by the -performance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was astounded at the celerity and certainty -of the methods by which he, a free Arab of the streets, -was thus caged. As usual, it acted on his sense of -humor, and before the dreaded sectional tribunal and -with the municipals he was courageously merry. -When he heard that he was to be sent to the -Madelonnettes, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, citizens, I am not of the sex. </span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span> the -Madelonnettes! 'T is not respectable—'t is not -decent"; and he laughed outright. As no man was -ever so made as to be protected from the infection -of such mirth as the thief's, the judges laughed in -chorus. One of them, disturbed in his slumber, -awoke, and seeing no cause for this long-visaged -flap-ear so to mock the justice of the republic, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou wilt not laugh long, miserable aristocrat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This much delighted François. "By St. Jacobus, -citizen, I swear to thee I am only an honest thief. I -did not expect to be made of the fine nobility by a -good democrat like thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Off with him!" said the judge. "They laugh best -who laugh last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," cried the incorrigible; "they laugh best -who laugh most. </span><em class="italics">Au revoir</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take him away! The next case."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thief was gay, and amused the officers; but -his keen senses were now all on guard, and, too, like -others, he felt relieved at the ending of his life of -suspense and watchful anxiety. His misfortune was -plainly due to the avarice and needs of the Crab, and -to her belief that he had ceased to be available as a -means of support.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a little delay at the front of the old -house of detention; some formalities were to be gone -through with. François took careful note of it all. -The prison stood in the Rue des Fontaines: a gray -stone building, with a lofty story on the first floor, -and, above, three stories and an attic; a high wall to -left shut in the garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On entering a long, dark corridor, his bonds were -removed, his bundle was searched, and what little -money he had was scrupulously restored to him. He -was stripped and examined, even to his shoes; but as -the tongue of leather was loose only at the toes, the -precious document escaped a very rigorous search. -Poor Toto had been left outside, despite François's -entreaties. In the cell to which he was consigned -were eight straw mattresses. He arranged his small -baggage, and was told he was free to go whither he -would above the </span><em class="italics">rez-de-chaussée</em><span>, which was kept for -forgers of assignats and thieves. The corridor was -some fifty feet long, and smelt horribly. On the main -floor was the common dining-room. A separate stair-case -led to a garden of considerable size, planted with -box and a few quince- and other fruit-trees. At night -two municipals guarded this space, while, outside, the -steps of sentries could be heard when the hours of -darkness brought their quiet. At 9 P.M. the prisoners, -who assembled in the large hall, answered to their -names; a bell rang, and they were locked in their -cells, or slept as they could in the corridors. The -richer captives were taxed to support their poor -companions, and even to buy and feed the mastiffs -which roamed at night in the garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Much of all this François learned as he arranged -his effects and talked gaily with the turnkey, one -Vaubertrand, a watchful but not unkindly little man. -Thus informed, François, curious as usual, went down -the corridor, and out into the garden. Here were -quite two hundred men and women, some in careful, -neat dress, many in rags. He saw, as he looked, -curés, ladies, seamstresses, great nobles, unlucky -colonels, and, as he learned later, musicians, poets; -and, to his surprise, for he knew the theaters, -actors such as Fleury, Saint-Prix, and Champville, -whose delicious laughter the Comédie Française knew -so well. Here, too, were Boulainvilliers, De Crosne, -and Dozincourt, the ex-kings and heroes of the comic -stage; and there, in a group apart, the fine gentles -and dames who had exchanged Versailles and the -Trianon for this home of disastrous fortunes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the turnkey; "the citizen is right; 't is -a droll menagerie," and so left him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François looked at the walls and chained dogs, and -knew at once that the large numbers in the prison -made impossible that solitude in which plans of -escape prosper. For a while no one noticed him so -far as to speak to him. The ill-clad and poor kept to -one side of the garden; on the other, well-dressed -people were chatting in the sun. Women were sewing; -a young man was reciting verses; and De Crosne, -with the child of the concierge on his lap, was telling -fairy-tales. Ignorant of the etiquette of the prison, -François wandered here and there, not observing that -he was stared at with surprise as he moved among -the better clad on the sunny side of the yard. He -was interested by what he saw. How quiet they all -were! what fine garments! what bowing and -courtesying! He liked it, as he always liked dress and -color, and the ways of these imperturbable great folks. -Beyond this his reflections did not go; nor as yet had -he been here long enough to note how, day by day, -some gentleman disappeared, or some kindly face of -woman was seen no more. What he did observe was -that here and there a woman or a man sat apart in -self-contained grief, remembering those they had lost. -The thief moved on, thoughtful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment he heard "</span><em class="italics">Diable!</em><span>" and saw the -Marquis de Ste. Luce. "What! and have they trapped -you, my inevitable thief? I myself was bagged and -caged just after I left you. We are both new arrivals. -Come aside with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François followed him, saying he was sorry to find -the marquis here.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was to be, sooner or later; and I presume it -will not last long. I was careless; and, after all, -François, it was my fate—my shadow. A man does -many things to amuse himself, and some one of them -casts a lengthening shadow as time goes on. The -shadow—my shadow—well, no matter. We all have -our shadows, and at sunset they lengthen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T is like enough, monsieur. 'T is like me. There -is a man with a wart I am afraid of, and it is because -of that wart. The man is a drunken fool."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Despard is my wart," said the marquis, dryly. -"As to being afraid, my good François, I never had -the malady, not even as a boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! I have it now; and to get out of this is -impossible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think so. Did you mention Despard?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; it was monsieur spoke of him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite true—quite true. He found me at last. -Confound the fellow! I did not credit him with -being clever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So this is his man with a wart?" thought François, -but made no comment. He had not fully comprehended -the simile with which this impassive seigneur -illustrated the fact that but one of his many misdeeds -had cast on his future a lengthening shadow of what -he would have hesitated to call remorse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"François," he said, "you and I are new additions -to this queer collection. I may as well warn you -that even here spies abound. Why? The deuce -knows. Barn-yard fowls are not less considered -than are we. It is the tribunal one day; then the -Conciergerie; and next day, </span><em class="italics">affaire finie</em><span>, the business -is over. Meanwhile, you are in the best society in -France. There are M. de la Ferté, the Comte de -Mirepoix, the Duc de Lévis, the Marquis de Fleury. -I used to think them dull; calamity has not sharpened -their wits. </span><em class="italics">Diable!</em><span> but you are welcome." The -marquis had all his life amused himself with small -regard to what was thought of him or his ways of -recreation. "'T is a bit of luck to find you here in -this hole." François could hardly agree with the -opinion, but he laughed as he said so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here comes my old comrade, De Laval Montmorency. -He is still a gay jester. He says we are -like Saul and that other fellow, Jonathan, except that -in death we shall both of us to a certainty be divided."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ciel!</em><span> 't is a ghastly joke, monsieur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has decidedly a flavor of the locality. I must -not play telltale about you, or they will put you in -the </span><em class="italics">rez-de-chaussée</em><span>, and, by St. Denis! I should miss -you. I shall have a little amusement in perplexing -these gentlemen. Your face will betray you; it used -to be pretty well known. However, we shall see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The nobleman last named threaded his way through -the crowd, excusing himself and bowing as he came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," he said, "Ste. Luce, another new arrival. -The hotel is filling up. Good morning, monsieur. -</span><em class="italics">Grand merci!</em><span> 't is our old acquaintance who used to -tell fortunes on the Champs Elysees; told mine once, -but, alas! did not warn me of this. Well, well, we -have here some queer society. Take care, Ste. Luce; -this citizen may be a spy, for all thou knowest. I -assure thee we have to be careful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I a </span><em class="italics">mouchard</em><span>—a spy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"M. de Montmorency has no such idea," said Ste. Luce. -"I shall ask him to respect your desire to be -known by a name not your own. Permit me to add -that I have less reason to thank some of my friends -than I have to thank this gentleman. He is pleased -to have mystified Paris for a wager, or no matter -what. Just now he is—what the deuce is it you call -yourself at present?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was delighted with the jest. "Allow me, -monsieur, to pass as Citizen François. My real -name— But you will pardon me; real names are -dangerous."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what are names to-day," said the marquis, -"thine or mine? My friend here—well, between us, -Montmorency, this is he who held the stair with me -in my </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> château. Thou wilt remember I told -thee of it. A good twenty minutes we kept it against -a hundred or so of my grateful people. He is the -best blade in Paris, and, </span><em class="italics">foi d'honneur</em><span>, that business -was no trifle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who you are, or choose to be, I know not," said -the older noble, "but I thank you; and, </span><em class="italics">pardieu!</em><span> -Ste. Luce is free with your biography."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was François's opinion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one knew distinctly who was this newcomer, -concerning whom, for pure cynical amusement, -Ste. Luce said so much that was gracious. Any freshly -gay companion was welcomed, if his manners were at -all endurable. The actors and actresses were -pleasantly received. The few who remembered the long -face, and ears like sails, and the captivating laugh of -the former reader of palms, were so bewildered by -Ste. Luce's varied statements that the poor thief -found himself at least tolerated. He liked it. -Nevertheless, as the days went by, and while seemingly -the gayest of the gay, François gave serious thought -to the business of keeping his head on his shoulders. -He told fortunes,—always happy ones,—played tricks, -and cut out of paper all manner of animals for the -little girl, the child of the turnkey. Toto he gave up -for lost; but on the fourth day the dog, half starved, -got a chance when a prisoner entered. He dashed -through the guards, and fled up stairs and down, -until, seeing his master in the big hall, he ran to him, -panting. The head jailer would have removed him, -but there was a great outcry; and at last, when little -Annette, François's small friend, cried, the dog was -allowed to remain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was, as the marquis declared, much more interesting -than most of the prisoners, and possessed, as -he added, the advantage over other prisoners of being -permanent. In fact, they were not. Every day or -two came long folded papers. The </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> Baron -Bellefontaine would to-morrow have the cause of -his detention considered by Tribunal No. 3. -Witnesses and official defenders had been allowed; but -of late, and to </span><em class="italics">émigrés</em><span>, these were often denied. Also, -witnesses were scarce and easily terrified, so that -batches of merely suspected persons were condemned -almost unheard. To be tried meant nearly always -the Conciergerie and death. All cases were supposed -to be tried in the order of their arrests; but great sums -were spent in paying clerks to keep names at the foot -of the fatal dockets of the committee. The members -of this terrible government survived or died with -much judicial murder on their souls; but countless -millions passed through their hands without one man -of them becoming rich. Elsewhere, with the lower -officers, gold was an effective ally when it was desired -to postpone the time of trial.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xx"><span class="bold large">XX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Of how François gave Amar advice, and of how the -marquis bought his own head.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was now about May 26, when, at -evening, a commissioner in a cocked -hat, much plumed and scarfed, came -into the dining-hall. Toto was between -his master's knees, and was being fed. -François heard a gray-haired old lady exclaim to a -neighbor: "</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu! chérie</em><span>, look! 'T is the Terror -in person."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The actor Champville cried out gaily: "I must -practise that face. 'T is a fortune for the villain of a -play. If ever I get out, it will be inestimable." Alas! he -was in the next day's list,—the </span><em class="italics">corvée</em><span>, they called -it,—and came no more to table. François looked up, -caught a glimpse of that relentless visage, and dropped -his head again over the slender relics of a not -bountiful meal. It was Jean Pierre Amar!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis looked up from his plate, but made -no effort to conceal himself. Amar walked around -the table. Now and then his mouth wandered to -left. It was comical, and yet horribly grotesque. He -seemed to notice no one, and went out to make his -inspection. Presently a turnkey came and touched -François's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The citizen commissioner would see thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am ruined—done for!" murmured the thief; -and, followed by Toto, he went after the turnkey. -In the room used as a registering-office, Amar, </span><em class="italics">le -farouche</em><span>, sat handling a paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" he said. "Citizen turnkey, leave the suspect -with me, and close the door." The commissioner -laid a pair of pistols on the table, and looked up at -François.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, citizen, we are met again. I am free to say -that I had careful search made for thee, and now -good fortune has brought hither not thee alone, but -that infernal </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> who pinned me like a butterfly." As -he spoke there was something fascinating in the -concentration of emotion on the active side of this -unnatural face. François felt the need to be careful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why the devil don't you speak?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will the citizen kindly advise me what answer it -will be most prudent to make?" And for comment -on his own words, which altogether pleased him, a -pleasant smile drifted downward over his large features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sacré!</em><span> but thou art a queer one, and no fool," said -the Jacobin. "Thou wilt be dead before long; a -monstrous pity! I would give my place for thy laugh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T is a bargain to my mind. Let us change. I -shall set thee free at once—at once, citizen -commissioner; I bear no malice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Amar, silent for a moment, stroked his nose with -thumb and finger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou dost not remind me thou didst save my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; what is the use?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Use? Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because men like the citizen commissioner do not -lightly change. I have a too plain recollection of -what I was promised in return for my benevolence. -I should regret it except for—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For what?" said Amar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then François rose to the height of his greatness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a Frenchman, even if I am not of thy party. -Had not the country needed thee, that day had been -thy last. Citizen, as a man thou wouldst set me free; -as a patriot thou wilt bow to the law of the republic. -I am willing to die rather than soil the record of one -to whom France owes so much." An overwhelming -solemnity of aspect came upon this comedian's face -as it met the gaze of the commissioner. "Alas! the -country has few such citizens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tonnerre</em><span>! True—true; it is sad." The man's -vanity was excelled only by that of the prisoner -before him. François had personal appreciation of the -influential value of the bait he cast. A great -diplomatist of the older type was lost when François took -to the war against society in place of that against -nations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the citizen commissioner has no more need of -me, I will go! To waste his time is to waste the genius -of France." Not for nothing had François been of -late in the society of the Comédie Française.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tiens</em><span>! Who told thee to go? I desire to do my -own thinking. Why art thou here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François laughed, but made no other reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Young man, art thou laughing at the Revolutionary -Tribunal?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art also laughing, monsieur." When François -laughed, he who looked at him laughed also.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Diable!</em><span> yes. What right hast thou to make an -officer of the Great Committee laugh? Thou wilt get -into trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am in it now, monsieur—up to the neck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No 'monsieur' to me, aristocrat! What brought -thee here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"A greedy woman denounced me. Could not I -denounce her in turn?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mort du diable!</em><span> that is a fine idea—to let the -denounced also denounce. It would make things -move. I will mention that to Couthon." The half -of the face that was able to express emotion -manufactured a look of ferocious mirth; but it was clear -that he took the proposition seriously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It appears that we do not go fast enough, citizen," -said François. "In April, 257; in May, so far, only -308. So say the gazettes. What if we denounce -Citizens Robespierre and Vadier? We might go -faster. Let us denounce everybody, and, last, the -devil."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Amar set an elbow on the table, and, with his chin -in his hand, considered this novel specimen of -humanity.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 60%" id="figure-148"> -<span id="amar-considered-this-novel-specimen-of-humanity"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""AMAR CONSIDERED THIS NOVEL SPECIMEN OF HUMANITY."" src="images/img-229.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"AMAR CONSIDERED THIS NOVEL SPECIMEN OF HUMANITY."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>François had a controlling idea that what chance -of safety there was lay in complete abandonment to -the natural recklessness of his ever-dominant mood -of humor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Art thou at the end of thy nonsense, idiot?" said -the Jacobin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite; the citizen might denounce himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By all the saints! Art making a jest of me—me, -Jean Pierre Amar? Thou must value thy head but -little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span> it was never worth much; and as to saints, -one Citizen Montmorency said yesterday that the -republic hath abolished the noblesse of heaven and -earth too. Droll idea, citizen"; and he laughed -merrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, quit that infernal laughing! Thou must be -of the Comédie Française."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I am of the comedy of France, like the rest—like -the commissioner; but the citizen has two ears -for a joke."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I think so"; and he made it manifest by a -twisted, unilateral grin of self-approval. "That idea -of the citizen—prisoners denouncing—I shall not -forget that. Wilt thou serve the republic?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These common spies in the prisons are useless. I -will put an 'M' to thy name on our list; 'M' for -</span><em class="italics">mouchard</em><span>—spy. That will put thee down at the bottom -whenever the Committee of Safety comes to thy -case. I am not ungrateful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good," said François, promptly. "I am as -honest a Jacobin as the best. I will serve the republic, -citizen, to the best of my ability."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then thou wilt report once a week, especially on -the </span><em class="italics">ci-devants</em><span>. The head keeper will give thee pen, -ink, and paper, and a chance to write here alone. I -will so order it. But beware, citizen! I am not a -man to trifle with; I do not forget.'7</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think not," said François, humbly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when Grégoire comes, in June, thou wilt -report to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—Grégoire—report—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly. What's the matter? Off with thee -now. Ah, that </span><em class="italics">sacré</em><span> Citizen Ste. Luce! I forgot him. -Tell him his case will come on shortly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is to lack patriotism."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he and De Crosne are the only people who -amuse me, and it is dull in this bird-cage. He swears -thou art clumsy with the small sword."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I clumsy! I should like to catch him somewhere. -I was too fat; but now!" and he smote his -chest. "Didst thou think me clumsy—me, Pierre Amar?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I? No, indeed. These aristocrats think no one -else can handle a rapier. Ah, if I could fence with -the citizen commissioner a little, and then—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He swears thou art coward enough to use the -guillotine to settle a quarrel, and that thou dost fence -like a pigsticker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Amar, </span><em class="italics">le farouche</em><span>, swore an oath too blasphemous -to repeat. The great thick-lipped mouth moved half -across so much of his face as could move at all. He -was speechless with rage, and at last gasped, as he -struck the table: "Me—Amar? Ah, I should like -well to let him out and kill him; and I would, too, -but there are Saint-Just, and Couthon, and the rest. -Go; and take care how thou dost conduct thyself. -Go! The </span><em class="italics">sacré</em><span> marquis must take his chance. -Pig-sticker indeed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus terminated this formidable interview; but, -alas! it was now close to the end of May, and in the -background of June was the man with the wart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day, in the garden, Francis related to -the marquis his interview with the dreaded Jacobin. -The gentleman was delighted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu</em><span>! François, you are a great man; but -I fear it will do no good; my turn must be near. De -Crosne and poor Fleury got their little billets last -evening, and are off on a voyage of discovery -to-morrow, along with M. de la Morne, and De Lancival, and -more. They will be in good society. Did you think -that Jacobin Apollo would be pricked into letting me -out for the chance of killing me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It came near to that, monsieur. I did say that -you were not much of a blade, after all; that Citizen -Amar was out of condition when you last met; and -that if he and I could fence a little,—outside, of -course,—M. le Marquis would regret the meeting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Delicious! And he took it all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, as little Annette takes a fairy-tale of -M. Fleury's—who will tell no more, poor fellow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, after all, we are still here. I envy you the -interview. </span><em class="italics">Parbleu!</em><span> these fellows do their best, but -they can't take the jests out of life. I hope the next -world will be as amusing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he ceased, François exclaimed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By all the saints! there is that crazy fool Despard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Despard—Despard?" repeated the marquis. -"That is a contribution to the show. How the -mischief did he get here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The unlucky Jacobin was wandering about like a -lost dog, a shabby, dejected figure. Toto, at play, -recognized his master's former partner, and jumped -up in amiable recognition. Despard kicked him, and -the poodle, unaccustomed to rude treatment, fled to -François. The thief's long face grew savage and -stern; to hurt Toto was a deadly offense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon, monsieur," he said to the marquis, and -went swiftly to where Despard stood against the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, rascal," said François; "if ever thou -dost kick that dog again, I will twist thy neck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard did not seem to take in his meaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is thou, François. There is the </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span>—the -marquis. I followed him. I—Pierre Despard—I -denounced him. I did it. I am not afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stuff! Didst thou hear me? What have I to do -with </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> marquises? Thou hast kicked Toto."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see him; I must speak with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Fichtre!</em><span> he is mad," said the thief, and went after -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the coming of Despard, ragged, wild-eyed, -excited, the group about the tall gentleman turned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard paused before him. "It is my turn now! -I followed—I followed—I denounced thee—I, Pierre -Despard. They will let me out when thou art to die; -it will be soon. I will take thy child—thy bastard—my -wife's child. We will go to see thee—I and thy -hunchback—to see thee on the tumbrel at the guillotine. -She hath thy own cold eyes—frozen eyes. Thou -wilt know her by those when thou art -waiting—waiting—shivering."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marquis listened with entire tranquillity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One or two more in the audience will matter -little"; and, smiling, he walked away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange tremor seized on the chin and lower lip -of Despard. He said to François, "Come with me," -and then, in a bewildered manner, "He isn't afraid -yet. I—I want him to be afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span> thou wilt wait then till the cows roost and -the chickens give milk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; it will come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stuff! How camest thou here? Didst thou denounce -thyself? I have heard of men mad enough to -do that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Do not tell. I trust thee; I always did trust -thee. I am a spy. I am to stay here till I want to -be let out, when he—he is tried. I wanted to watch -him. Some day he will have fear—fear—and—I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, of all the mad idiots! A mouse to walk -into a trap of his own accord! </span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span> but the cheese -must have smelt good to thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall go out when I want to go. Didst thou -know his daughter is dead? I am sorry she is dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—God rest her soul!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry she is dead because she cannot be here. -I wish she were here. If only she were here, it would -be complete. Then he would be afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Bon Dieu!</em><span>" cried several, "he will kill him!" The -thief had caught Pierre by the throat, and, scarce -conscious of the peril of his own strength, he choked -the struggling man, and at last, in wild rage, hurled -him back amid a startled mass of tumbled people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beast!" muttered François, at his full height -regarding angrily the prostrate man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In an instant the jailers were at his side. "What -is this?" said they.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He—he kicked my dog!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he? Well, no more of this, citizen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then let him be careful how he kicks my dog; -and take him away, or—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre needed no further advice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently Ste. Luce came over to François.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is wrong?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He kicked my dog!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed? Do you know this man well? Once you -warned me about him. Where have you met?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We juggled together, monsieur, when I used to -read palms. He is a bit off his head, I think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T is common in France just now, or else the -reverse is. But he has a damnably good memory. We -of Normandy say, 'As is the beast, so are his claws.' The -fellow is of good blood in a way; but, </span><em class="italics">mon Dieu!</em><span> -he is a coward to be pitied. To be through and -through a coward does much enlarge the limits of -calamity. If I or if you were to hate a man, for -reasons good or bad, we would kill him. But a coward! -What can he do? He has his own ways, not mine or -yours. His claws are not of the make of mine. I -have no complaint to make as to his fashion of -revenging himself; but really, revenge, I fancy, must -lose a good deal of its distinctness of flavor when it -waits this long. It is, I should say, quite twelve -years—quite. There is a child, he says, or there was. -Do you chance to know anything about it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you ever see it? Is it male or female?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A girl, monsieur. I never saw it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How old?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Penitence becomes a question of dates, François. -But it is true—true that I never had the least talent -for regret; and if a man is not capable of regret, why, -François, how the deuce can he achieve penitence? -Don't think I am joking, my most accomplished -thief. There are men here who—there is M. de—well, -no matter. There are men here who are honestly -bewailing their past—well, amusements—sins, if you -please. I cannot. There are some here who, because -they are noble by descent, are making believe not to -be afraid, and will make believe until the knife falls. -I am not penitent, because I am not; and as to the -knife, I have had a most agreeable life, and should -never have gone on living if life had ceased to -amuse me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was now silent awhile, his strong, handsome -features clear to see, as they lay on the scant grass -in the sunshine. The thief had learned that at times -this great seigneur would talk, and liked to do so; -and that at other times he was to be left to the long -silences which were difficult to secure where this -morbidly gay crowd, of all conditions of men, was -seeking the distraction of too incessant chat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose quietly, and went away to talk with Domville -of the Comédie, who himself was always glad of -the company of François's cheery visage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the salon, which was now deserted, he saw -Despard. Pierre stood at an open window, and was -pulling at his fingers, as François had so often seen -him doing. He was gazing at the people in the yard. -His eyes wandered feebly here and there, as if without -interest or purpose. His attitude of dejection touched -some chord of pity in his partner's heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dame! he must have thought I was rough with -him for a dog—a dog." He had no mind to explain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre turned to meet him. He was not angry, nor -was he excited. The shifting phases of his malady -had brought to him again the horrible misery of such -melancholy as they who are sound of mind cannot -conceive. When this torture has a man in its grip, -the past is as nothing; the present a curse; duty is -dead; the future only an assurance of continued -suffering; death becomes an unconsidered trifle; -life—continued life—an unbearable burden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor Pierre said no word of his ex-partner's recent -violence. The tears were running down his cheeks. -The man at his side was, as usual, gaily cheerful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is wrong with thee?" said François. "I -was hard on thee, but thou knowest—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" replied Pierre. "I—it is no matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François, surprised, went on: "Can I help thee?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I cannot sleep; I cannot eat. I suffer. I am -in a hell of despair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how, or why, </span><em class="italics">mon ami</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know. I suffer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rouse up a bit. Why didst chance to come here? -I asked thee that before. If thou canst get out, go at -once. Thou art not fit to be in this place. This devil -of a marquis excites thee. To be a spy thou shouldst -be ashamed. Canst thou really get out when it pleases -thee to go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" said Pierre, in alarm. "Dost thou -think they will not let me go? I did not want to be -a spy, but I was half starved. All I could get I sent -to keep my—his poor little hunchback. Vadier lent -me some money. I kept none, not a sou. I asked -him to let me come here as a spy. They say my -reports are useless. I can't help that. I will go out. -I want to see that man suffer; I want to see him -afraid. He is not afraid. Dost thou think he is afraid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment there was a pause, when Pierre, in a -quiet, childlike manner, said: "Dost thou think he ever -will be afraid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Pierre; he never will be. What a fool thou -art to have come here! 'T is not so easy to get out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span> don't say that. I—they said—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dost thou believe a Jacobin—and Vadier, the -beast, of all men?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" said Pierre, looking about him suspiciously. -"I must go—I must go. I must walk; I -cannot keep still."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He remained in this mood of subdued terror and -the deepest melancholy for some days. Then for a -few hours he followed the marquis about, proclaiming -his own wrongs in a high-pitched voice. At last -Ste. Luce complained to the keeper, Vaubertrand, who -hesitated to interfere, being puzzled and fearful as to -the amount of influence possessed by this spy of the -Committee of Safety. He mustered enough courage -at last to tell Despard that he must not speak to the -marquis; and, as he luckily caught him in his mood of -despair and depression, the man timidly promised to obey.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxi"><span class="bold large">XXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">How François, having made a bargain with Citizen Amar, -cannot keep it with the man of the wart—How Despard -dies in the place of the marquis—Of François's escape -from prison.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The second week of June was over. The -keeper, who had taken a fancy to the -merry thief, called him aside one -afternoon, and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou must write thy report, because -to-morrow comes Citizen Grégoire. Thou canst use -the office for an hour, as is permitted. But take care. -Thou dost know how they are treated in the prisons -who are suspected of making these reports to the -committee. I will come for thee at dusk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François thanked him, and at the time mentioned -was locked up in the office; for despite Vaubertrand's -amiability, he was careful as to the security of his -prisoners. As it was now dark, the office table was -lighted by two candles. He found pen and ink and -paper, but no competent thoughts. What was he to -say—whom to accuse? He had made a hasty -contract with Amar, and was of no mind to fulfil his -share of it. He got up from the desk, and walked -about. "The deuce!" he said to Toto, who never left -him. "'T is a scrape of our own making. I should -have told that scamp with the pretty face to go to -the devil with his spy business. </span><em class="italics">Sacristie!</em><span> doggie, I -am like that fellow in the play I once saw. He sold -his soul to the devil, and didn't want to pay up when -the time came. What to do?" He had told the -marquis, whom he trusted, of the difficulty he anticipated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ste. Luce, much amused, said: "Take me for a -subject. I am as sure to die as an abbot's capon. If -you have a conscience, it may rest easy so far as I am -concerned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François took it seriously. "I beg of you, monsieur—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, a good idea!" laughed the nobleman, breaking -in upon his remonstrance. "Tell them how you saw -me kill three good citizens that night on the stairs. -By Mars! François, those twenty minutes were worth -living for. I was in a plot to rescue the king; tell -them that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," grinned the thief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound it! you are difficult."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now, as François recalled their talk, his task -was not more easy. He nibbled the end of his quill, -and looked around him. At last, as he walked to and -fro, he began to exercise his natural inquisitiveness. -It was never long quiet. He stared at the barred -windows. A set of pigeonholes attracted him. He -glanced hastily over their contents. "</span><em class="italics">Tiens!</em><span>" he -exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every day or two, about 3 P.M., a clerk of the -Committee of Safety brought a great envelop -stamped with the seal of the republic. Within was a -paper on which were clearly set out the names and -former titles of the citizen prisoners selected for trial -the night before in joint counsel by the Great -Committee and that of Security. The keeper copied each -name on to the space in the blank summons kept for -this use, and these fatal papers were then duly -delivered after supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François looked at the packet. It was sealed. He -knew well what it meant. It was labeled: "Mandate -of the Tribunals Nos. 4 and 5."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Toto, we may be among them; we must see." He -looked about him. Here were all the writing-table -implements then in use. He heated a knife, and -neatly loosened the under wax of the seal. The -death-call lay before him. He ran over it with -shuddering haste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span> we are not there. But, </span><em class="italics">mon ami</em><span>, here is -the marquis!" His was the last name at the foot of -the first page. François sat still, his face in his -hands. At any moment he might be caught. He -did not heed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must do it," he said. He saw, as it were -before him, the appealing face of the dead woman, -and felt in remembrance the hand the great seigneur -had given him on the stair. He had a glad memory -of a moment which had lifted him on to the higher -levels of self-esteem and manhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do it, Toto; 't is to be risked; and, </span><em class="italics">mon -Dieu!</em><span> the rest—the rest of them!" Some he knew -well. Some had been kind to him. One had given -him clothes when these were greatly needed. He -was profoundly moved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I burn it, 't is but to give them a day, and no -more—if I burn it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took scissors from the table, and carefully cut -off the half-inch at the foot of the paper. It was now -without the name "Ste. Luce, </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> marquis." He -tore up the strip of paper, and put the fragments in -the fireplace, behind the unkindled logs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next he casually turned the page. "</span><em class="italics">Ciel!</em><span> this calls -for eleven. I have left but ten. They will think it -a blunder. One will be wanting; that is all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He used a little melted wax under the large seal, -replaced the warrant in the outer cover, and returned -the document to the pigeonhole whence he had taken -it. This done, he sat down again, and began to write -his report.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found nothing to say, except that those he would -have spoken of had been already disposed of; and -now he thought again that he would burn the fatal -paper. He rose resolute, but at this moment the head -keeper came back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François was sorry, but he was not used to writing, -and made excuses until at last the man said impatiently:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, thou must settle all that with Amar and -Grégoire. I gave thee time enough." Could he have -another chance? He was told that he should have it; -but now it was supper-time; better not to be missing. -He went out and up-stairs to his place at table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had lost his gaiety. Here and there at the table -were the doomed men and women. He could not eat, -and at last left the room to wander in the corridors. -Pierre soon found him. He was eager, anxious, and -full of strange news.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When will that brute marquis be sent for? I was -to go out to-day. They have forgotten. There is -trouble in the Great Committee. I hear of it from -Vaubertrand. Robespierre and Vadier think things -go not fast enough; and the rest—the rest, except -little cripple Couthon and Saint-Just, are opposing -our great Robespierre."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François began to be interested, and to ask -questions. The gazettes were no longer allowed in the -prisons. The outer world was a blank to all within -their walls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard, flushed and eager, told him how daily the -exit of the prisoners for trial was met by a mob -clamorous for blood. Then he began to exhibit -alarm. Did François think that he, Pierre, might by -chance miss the execution of the marquis? He would -speak to Grégoire, who was coming next morning. -They should learn not to trifle with a friend of -Robespierre. When François left him he was gesticulating, -and, as he walked up and down the deserted corridor, -was cracking his knuckles or gnawing his nails.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After supper the varied groups collected in the salon. -The women embroidered. A clever artist was busy -sketching the head of a girl of twenty for those she -loved, who were to see her living face no more. Some -played at cards. Here and there a man sat alone, -waiting, stunned by the sure approach of death. The -marquis was in gay chat with the Vicomte de Beauséjour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, here is my mysterious gentleman!" cried -Ste. Luce. "They have bets on you. Tell these -gentlemen who you really are. They are puzzled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François smiled. He was pleased to do or say -anything which would take his thoughts off the near -approach of the messenger of doom. He said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"M. le Marquis knows that I am under an oath."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Pardie!</em><span> true, true; I have heard as much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bets stand over," said a gray old man, M. de -l'Antilhac. "We knew you as a juggler."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and a fencing-master," said Du Pin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are both right. These times and the king's -service set a man to strange trades. Well, gentlemen, -I am not to be questioned. Tales lose heads."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They laughed. "Pardon me," said a younger man. -"The marquis was about to tell us of the delightful -encounter you had on his staircase. 'T is like a legend -of the days of Henri IV of blessed memory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell them," said Ste. Luce.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The marquis does me much—</span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span>" François -cried, and fell back into a chair, weak as a child. The -turnkey went by him with the fatal missives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Art thou ill?" said De l'Antilhac. "What is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said François. "Excuse me. He—he—" And, -as it were fascinated, he rose and went after the -keeper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vaubertrand paused behind a gentleman who was -playing piquet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Citizen Ste. Michel," he said, and passed on, as he -laid the summons before the player.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At last!" said the man thus interrupted. "Quatre -to the king—four aces. Let it wait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vaubertrand moved on. François followed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The calls to trial and death were distributed. A man -rolled up the fatal paper without a word, and lighted -his pipe with it. One of those who sat apart took his -summons, and fell fainting on the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing for me?" said the marquis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet, citizen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was never before so neglected."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The game went on. Here and there a woman -dropped her embroidery and sat back, thinking of -the world to come, as she rolled the deadly call to -trial in her wet fingers, and took refuge in the strength -of prayer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François felt as if it were he who had condemned -these people. He went to his cell, and tossed about -all night, sleepless. Rising early, he went out into the -garden. After breakfast the keeper said to him:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou shouldst have had thy report ready. Grégoire -is coming to-day. He is before his time. If he -is drunk, as usual, there will be trouble. That fool -Despard is wild to-day. He will be sure to stir up -some mischief. All the </span><em class="italics">mouchards</em><span> will be called."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Despard is an idiot. He is raving one day, and -fit to kill himself the next. Get him out of this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame</em><span>! I should be well pleased. He swears I keep -him here. He will—ah, </span><em class="italics">mon Dieu!</em><span> the things he -threatens. I am losing my wits. My good François, -I have been kind to thee, and I talk rashly. I wish I -had done with it all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I too, citizen; but thou art safe with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the jailer spoke, he looked over his list of those -summoned. "</span><em class="italics">Sacré bleu!</em><span> here is a list which calls for -eleven, and there are only ten names!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some one has made a mistake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No doubt. But Grégoire never listens. Pray -God he be sober. Be in the corridor at nine; -Grégoire will want to see thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François would be on hand. As to the report, he -should wish to ask how to draw it up. He found a -quiet corner in the courtyard, and began to think -about the man with the wart—the man of whom he -knew so little, and whom he feared as he had never -before feared a man. The every-day horror and -disturbance of the morning had begun. Officers were -coming and going; names were called; there were -adieus, quiet or heartrending. The marquis was -tranquilly conversing, undisturbed by the scene, which -was too common to trouble those who had no near -friend or relation in the batch of prisoners called for -trial. François had seen it all, day after day. It -always moved him, but never as now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood looking at a young woman who was -sitting with the order in her lap, her eyes turned -heavenward as if in dumb appeal. Now and then she -looked from one man to another, as if help must -come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François glanced at the marquis; he was the center -of a laughing group, chatting unconcerned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ciel!</em><span> has the man no heart?" he murmured. -"Why did I save him even for a day? The good God -knows. It must make life easy to be like him." The -marquis would have been amazed to know that the -memory of a white, sad woman's face, and of one -heroic hour, had given him a new lease of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Toto," said the thief to himself, "we held that -stair together, he and I." The thought of an -uplifting moment overcame him. A sudden reflection -that he might have been other than he was flushed -his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, my friend Toto, we could have been -something; we missed our chance in the world. Well, -thou dost think we had better make a fight for it. -Life is agreeable, but not here. Let us think. There -is one little card to play. Art thou up to it? Yes! -I must go now. Thou wilt wait here, and thou wilt -not move. In an hour I shall be with thee; and, -meanwhile, behold a fine bone. No, not yet, but when -I come. Attention, now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned his back to the prison, took off a shoe, -and extracted a paper, which he folded so as to be -small and flat. Then he produced a bit of a kid -glove he had asked from Mme. Cerise of the Comédie -Française. In it he laid the paper, and put the little -packet, thus protected, in the dog's mouth. "Keep -it," he said. "It is death—it is life." The dog lay -down, his sharp black nose on his paws, shut his eyes, -and seemed to be asleep. He had done the thing -before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When François entered the corridor he found the -keeper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," said Vaubertrand. "The commissioner -is in a bad way, and drunk, too. He is troubled, I -think, and the citizens who are outside reproach him -that the supply for the guillotine is small, and the -prisons full. What have I done to be thus tormented? -There will be a massacre. </span><em class="italics">Ciel!</em><span> I talk too much. I -have favored thee. Take care—and thou canst laugh -yet." Whereupon François laughed anew, and went -after him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The large hall on the first floor was unusually full. -There was much confusion. The great street door, as -it was opened wide and shut again in haste, gave a -not reassuring glimpse of men in red bonnets roaring -the </span><em class="italics">Ça ira</em><span>. Over all rose the shrill tongues of the -women of the markets. A new batch of prisoners -was pushed in, the keeper declaring he had no room. -Officers of the Committee of Safety untied the hands -of the newcomers, and ranged them on stone benches -to the left. On the right were those who were called -to trial. François stood aside, watchful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre Despard was waiting, flushed and anxious. -As a spy, he had leave from Vaubertrand to descend -in order to state his case to Grégoire. He went hither -and thither, noisy, foolish, gesticulating. He was now -in his alternate mood of excitement, and soon began -to elbow his way toward the office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Citizen La Vaque is summoned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A tall man answered from the bench. Then another -and another was called. The officers went down the -line, and, paper in hand, verified the prisoners. They -were taken, one by one, into a side room by a second -officer, and their hands secured behind their backs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last the first officer said: "Here are but ten, -Citizen Vaubertrand, and the list calls for eleven. -The keeper must see the commissioner." The officer -in charge reproached Vaubertrand for neglect. The -man with the wart came out from the office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence!" he cried. "What is this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The matter was explained, or was being set forth, -when the door opened, and another half-dozen -unfortunates were rudely thrust in, while the crowd made -a furious effort to enter. Grégoire turned pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou shalt answer for this. Find another. I -shall hear of it, and thou, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, Despard, too insane to observe Grégoire's -condition, and lost to all sense of anything but his own -sudden wish to escape, was frantically pulling the -furious commissioner by the arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Citizen," he cried, "I must be heard! Dost hear? -Thou wilt repent. I am the friend of Robespierre."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire paid no attention; he was half drunk, and -raging at poor Vaubertrand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will report thee," cried Despard. "I denounce thee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire turned upon him in a rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is this?" he cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am Despard of the fourth section. I will let -thee know who I am." In his madness he caught -Grégoire by the collar and shook him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire called out: "Take away this fool! -What! threaten me—me—Grégoire! All, thou art the rascal -who plunders châteaux. I know thee. Thou dost -threaten an officer of the Committee of Safety. Tie this -fellow; he will do for the eleventh. Quick, quick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no hesitation. The officers seized their -prey, and Grégoire, growling, went again into the office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pierre fought like the madman he was, but in a -minute was brought back screaming and added to -the corvée. It was complete. He was carried out -raving, amid the yells and reproaches of the mob, -which broke up and went along with the wagons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again there was quiet in the hall, where the thief -stood in wonder, horror-stricken. "It is I that have -killed him—he who did long to see another die. And -for him to die in the place of the marquis—</span><em class="italics">dame!</em><span> it -is strange."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ciel!</em><span>" cried Vaubertrand, wiping the sweat from -his brow. "This is the second they took this way to -make up for some one's blunder. Come, and have a -care what you say. He is half drunk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François entered the office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is this?" said Grégoire, facing him, with his -large, meaningless face still flushed and angry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vaubertrand pushed forward the reluctant François. -"It is one of the reporters, citizen commissioner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ahem! One of Citizen Amar's appointments," -said Grégoire. "Thou canst go, Citizen Vaubertrand"; -and he looked up as he sat at the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thy name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"François," said the thief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thy occupation?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Juggler."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The citizen commissioner was on the uncertain -line between appearance of sobriety obtained by -effort and ebriety past control. As he interrogated -François his head dropped forward. He recovered -himself with a sharp jerk, and cried sharply:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why dost thou not answer? I said, How didst -thou get here, and who gave thee thy order to -report?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Citizen Amar; he is a friend of mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he? Well, where is thy </span><em class="italics">sacré</em><span> report?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to tell the citizen commissioner -what I have to say. I—I did not know just how to -frame it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Grégoire was considering him with -unsteady eyes. "Ah, now I have it; now I remember -thee. Thou art an </span><em class="italics">ex-émigré</em><span>. I shall attend to thee. -It was thou who stole my wallet of papers; and thou -couldst laugh, too. </span><em class="italics">Ciel!</em><span> what a laugh! Try it now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François replied that he was no </span><em class="italics">émigré</em><span>; as to the -rest, he could explain; and leaning over, he said -quietly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will do well to hear what I have to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'You will do well'! Idiot! Why dost thou say -'you, you'? Cursed aristocrat that thou art! Say -'thou' when thou dost address me, or I shall—where -is that report?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the citizen will listen. There was in that wallet -a little paper addressed to Citizen de la Vicomterie. -</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span> it was good reading, and I have it still."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou hast it? Thou wilt not have it long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire was not over-intelligent, and had now the -short temper of drink. The prisoner tried to get a -moment in which to explain that another held the -document.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire was past hearing reason. "Officers, -here! here!" he cried. "Search this man! Search him. -Strip him. Here! here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François did not stir. "When thou hast done we -can talk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold thy tongue! Search him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ma foi</em><span>, marquis," said the thief, later, "they did it -well. They even chopped up the heels of my shoes. -And my coat! </span><em class="italics">Sacre</em><span>! The good keeper gave me -another. In our cell, as I learned, they went through -the beds and Heaven knows what else. I was well -pleased, I can tell thee, when it was all over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The commissioner had now cooled down. "Put on -thy clothes," said Grégoire, and himself shut the door. -It was François's turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Citizen," he said, "didst thou think me fool enough -to leave within reach that little letter of thine to the -good citizen of the committee—to—ah, yes, La -Vicomterie is his name. I am not an </span><em class="italics">émigré</em><span>, only a poor -devil of a thief and a juggler. I do not love Citizen -Robespierre any better than some others love him—some -I could name. But one must live, and the day -I go out to thy infernal tribunal, Robespierre will -have thy letter. A friend will go himself and lay it -before the committee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire grew deadly pale, all but the wart, which -remained red. "I am betrayed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait a little. Thou art not quite lost, but thou -wilt be unless—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unless what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unless thou wilt open that door and set me free. -I have no grudge against thee. I will arrange to have -for thee the letter, and must receive from thee a new -</span><em class="italics">carte de sûreté</em><span>, and a good passport on business of -the Committee of Safety."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The commissioner was partly sobered. "How shall -I know that thou wilt keep thy word?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou wilt not know until I do. Why should I not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the letter may be lost."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what then? Thou wilt be safe, and have -one less life to answer for to the devil when he gets thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Talk business. There is no devil."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't agree with thee. His name is Robespierre. -The mischief is that it is I who do not trust thee. -Thou hast a wart, citizen. Men who have warts are -unlucky to meet. But take care, because I am a -desperate man, and most extremely value my head. -If thou shouldst fail to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; I promise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good, then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait; I will write out the papers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall not hurry thee. I must pack up. I will -be back in half an hour. Be so kind as to arrange -that I may return without hindrance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François went at once to the garden, and called -Toto. Then he hastened to his </span><em class="italics">cachot</em><span>, or cell, and, -finding himself alone, shut the door, took the little -packet from Toto's mouth, and gave him the promised -bone. He placed the paper inside his stocking, and -secured it with a pin. Next he gathered up his -small effects, left his mangled coat on the bed of a -fellow-prisoner, and descended thoughtfully to the -office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was glad to see that the man of the wart was -sitting apparently inattentive to the piles of accounts -before him. "Clearly, the citizen is worried," said -François to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have thy papers. One had to be sent out for -a signature. Here is thy card of safety, and -reapproved as that of a citizen who has denounced an -</span><em class="italics">ex-émigré</em><span>. Also, behold a passport, and an order -from the Committee of Safety to leave Paris on business -of the republic. All are in the name of Citizen -François, juggler."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The citizen has been thoughtful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sacré</em><span>! I never do things by halves; I am -thorough. And now, as to the paper?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will be best for thee to come, at twelve to-day, -to No. 33 </span><em class="italics">bis</em><span> Rue Perpignan. There I will take thee -to my old room, or another, and make good my side -of the bargain. After that, I have the agreeable hope -never to meet thee again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will be there at noon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François's watchful ear detected a certain emphasis -on the "I" of this phrase, which made him suspicious. -He said quietly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Citizen, thou hast sold me my head. I shall give -thee thine. Afterward I shall be in thy power."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes; that might be so with Amar or Couthon, -but not with André Grégoire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tiens!</em><span>" said the thief, "what is this? 'André'? -This order is signed 'Alphonse Grégoire.' The citizen -must have been absent-minded. Look!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire flushed. "True, true. I will write a -second. I was troubled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François stood still, received the second order, and, -saying, "</span><em class="italics">Au revoir</em><span>, citizen," was about to leave, when -a thought seemed to strike him. He paused. "There -is here a </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> marquis you may recall—Ste. Luce."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Put his name at the foot of the file of the accused -and keep it there. Get a clerk to do it. The citizen -is aware that it is done every day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible! Art thou insane? I run risk enough -with thy order and passport. But this I dare not do. -There are limits."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do it, or I throw up my bargain. By Heaven, I -am in earnest! Come, what will it cost? Will one -hundred louis d'or do the business?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire reflected. What more simple than to say -yes, pocket the money, and let things take their -course?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do it for that—I mean I can have it done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then give me ten minutes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will wait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rich throughout these evil days were allowed -to have in prison as much money as they could get -from without. About March of this sad year they -were told that they must feed the poorer captives, -and were regularly assessed. François was aware -that the marquis was well provided. He found him in -the garden, and asked him to step aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am free, monsieur," he said. "No matter how. -And I have bargained for your own head." He -briefly related so much of his talk with Grégoire as -concerned the marquis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ste. Luce looked at him. "</span><em class="italics">Pardie</em><span>! You are an -unusual type of thief—or man. I would thank you -if I considered my head worth much. But, after all, -it is a natural attachment one's body has for one's -head, or one's head for one's body, to put it correctly. -Will it be wasted money, my admirable thief, or will -the rascal keep his word?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; he will keep his word—after we get through -with the affair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a great man, François, but I have not -the money. I lost it last night to Delavigne. I will -get the loan of it. Rather a new idea to borrow one's -head! Wait a little." He came back in a few minutes. -"It pretty well cleaned out two of them. Good luck -to you; and if ever we are out of this hole, we must -fence a little. By the way, I hear they took that -poor devil Despard to-day. It is a relief. He bored -me atrociously."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; they took him in your place, monsieur. It -was to have been to-day—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-day! In my place? </span><em class="italics">Tiens!</em><span> that is droll."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how—why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No matter now. I will tell monsieur some day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you a magician, Master François?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was. But I did not desire this man's death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the guillotine will have him, and he will not -be on hand to see me scared. </span><em class="italics">Ciel!</em><span> but it is strange. -Alas! the disappointments of this mortal life! Good -luck to you, and </span><em class="italics">au revoir</em><span>. I thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few minutes later, Grégoire, having carefully -disposed of the gold about his ample person, escorted -Citizen François to the outer door. The look with -which the commissioner with the wart regarded the -retreating back and the big ears of François was -unfriendly, to say the least.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxii"><span class="bold large">XXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Wherein is told how François baits a crab-trap with -the man of the wart.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>François understood the risks of his -position. For a time he was safe. After -he gave up that precious paper he would -be at Grégoire's mercy. "More or less," -muttered the thief, with a laugh which -set Toto to capering. He went toward the Seine, -looked in the shop-windows, and had a bite and a -good bottle of wine, for the marquis had insisted on -giving him ten louis for his own use. About -half-past eleven he turned into the Rue Perpignan, and -rang the bell at No. 33 bis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Toto," he said, as he went in. "We owe -Mme. Quatre Pattes a little debt. Let us be honest -and pay." He closed the door behind him, and heard -the sharp voice of the concierge: "Who goes there? -Speak, or I will be after thee." He drew back, and -looked in through the glassed door of the Crab's room. -He knew she would not sally out. Why should she? -Her house was only a hive of thieves and low women, -who were driven away when they could not pay, and -who rarely plundered one another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had never before so carefully inspected his -landlady. She was seated at a table, about to drink -a cup of cocoa. The room, the table, the little -well-swept hearth, were all as clean as care and work could -keep them. The woman herself was no less neat than -her surroundings, yet she seemed one who belonged -to the sties of the Cité's lowest life. There was -something strangely feline in the combination of animal -appearance with the notable cleanliness of her patched -clothes, her person, and her abode. Her back, bent -forward from the waist, and rigid, forced her to turn -her head up and to one side to attain a view of the -face of man. The same need kept her red eyes wide -open. The malady which caused this distortion had -ceased to be active. It had scarcely affected her -general health. Like many of those who have suffered -from the more common forms of the disease which -makes the hunchback, she possessed amazing strength.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, as François stood hesitating, watchful, she -sat at table before him, intent on her meal, looking -here or there for bread or salt, her head swaying -from side to side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If she were to bite a man, he would be as good as -dead," murmured the thief. "What is it she is like? -Ah, 't is the vipers in the wood of Fontainebleau. -</span><em class="italics">Bonjour, maman</em><span>," he cried gaily, as he went in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Taken by a sharp surprise, she gripped at her two -sticks on the table, but missed them. They fell -clattering, and her shaky hands dropped on her lap. She -lacked not courage. As she sat crouched, the bald -head, red-eyed and vigilant, was held back to watch -this enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Toto ran in, and fawned at her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Enchanted to see you, </span><em class="italics">maman</em><span>." By this time she -had her wits about her, and, hearing no accusing -charges, felt more at ease.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come back again, art thou, my fine thief-bird? -Did he fly to his nest? Ha! he knows who will take -care of him. That </span><em class="italics">sacré</em><span> shoemaker it was who -denounced thee. Didst thou think it was thy little -maman? Thou didst scold me. But how didst thou -get out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, no matter now," said François. "I have -work on hand for thee. If I mistrusted thee, it -is not here I should have come. Sometime we will -have a little </span><em class="italics">eau-de-vie</em><span> and a pipe, </span><em class="italics">maman</em><span>, and I -will tell thee all about it. Wouldst thou serve -the republic, and be well paid for it? Here, take -thy sticks; thou art fit for anything only when thou -hast all thy four legs. Listen, now; and, to begin, -thou canst read a little—enough to understand this -passport, and this order from the Great Committee -of Safety?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked eagerly over the papers. "Yes, yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And thou canst read this still better." He let a -gold louis drop on the table. She put out a claw, -and, failing through tremor to pick it up, drew it to -the edge, and for a moment held it under her eyes; then -she put it into her mouth, and, apparently satisfied, -chewed on it, moving her lower jaw from side to side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A good purse, </span><em class="italics">maman</em><span>. It would be a bold man -or a blind would steal thy head for the gold. Heads -always lose in our France to-day; thy own is none -too sure, </span><em class="italics">maman</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If thou art thinking to scare Quatre Pattes, it -won't do. Ha! it won't pay." She looked as if it -would not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François saw that he had made a misplay. He -laughed his best. "</span><em class="italics">Nom de diable!</em><span> thou didst like a -joke once. No matter. My time is short. I expect -a citizen in a few minutes. Is my old room empty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and half the rest. I tell thee, </span><em class="italics">mon fils</em><span>, I have -missed thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me the key, and pen, ink, and paper. These -will do. Thy ink is dry. A little water—so. I shall -come down in a minute or two, and take the citizen -up with me. After that I shall come down alone. -The citizen will be locked up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good. Will he be alive? I will have no tricks; -they get one into trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alive! Yes; he will howl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, he will howl. What shall I get?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will pay to get out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will pay—how much?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One—two—three hundred francs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pshaw! Paper?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; gold. At four to-morrow—no later, no sooner—at -four to-morrow thou wilt let him out; and, mind -thee, Dame Quatre Pattes, this is business of the -republic. What happens to him after he is let out is of -no moment. He may very likely make a fuss; he is -bad-tempered. Wilt thou take the risk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—Quatre Pattes? Three hundred francs! I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I return not to give further orders before twelve, -thou mayst ask the municipals to be here at four. -That will save trouble. He will then be in no way to -swear thou hast his money. That may be the best -plan. I have no mind to get thee into trouble. Now, -hold thy tongue; and remember, it will be the little -cripple Couthon who will reckon with thee if in this -business thou dost fail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is all very well if thou dost not return; but -who will pay me if thou art of a mind to come and -take him away thyself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T is a sharp old Crab," laughed François. "If I -come for him, I promise thee he shall pay thee full -rent; and here is his </span><em class="italics">denier à Dieu, maman</em><span>." He cast -another louis in her lap. "If I come not by noon, -get all you can, and denounce him as a suspect; but -remember—not till four."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Queue du diable</em><span>! 'T is a fine transaction," cried -the Crab, and knocked her sticks together for emphasis. -"We will bleed him like a doctor; we will send in the -bill under the door; and then—we will have some nice -municipals for sextons. Ha! ha! It is well to have -the credit on one's little </span><em class="italics">carte de sûreté</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François assured her that the plan was good. At -this point, however, she became suddenly suspicious. -She stood crouching over her sticks, the snake-like -head slowly moving from side to side, her eyes searching -the thief's smiling face. "Why is the man to be -kept? What is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He expected this. "Ask Couthon the palsied that, -thou imbecile. I will take him elsewhere. There are -a dozen houses where they ask no questions. Yes or no?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes!" Caution was put to sleep by greed; -or, more truly, by want, which was nearing its -extremity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt secure. "If he should ring before I get -down-stairs, let him wait. Now, the ink and key."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he to make his will? Thou wilt not be long?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I want something that I left."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! thou didst leave something?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and thou didst not find it, </span><em class="italics">maman</em><span>. Fie, fie, -for a clever woman! Well, if thou didst not find it, -few could. Wait, now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went swiftly up-stairs with Toto, and unlocked -the door, leaving the key outside in the lock. He put -the writing-materials on a table. In the chimney, just -within reach of his farthest touch, he found his pistol. -It was not loaded, and he had no powder to recharge -it. He laughed as, putting it behind him in his -waist-belt, under his cloak, he descended the stair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All is right. </span><em class="italics">Cordon</em><span>, if you please," he cried from -the hall. He had not waited outside five minutes -when Grégoire appeared, in ordinary dress, without -the official feathered hat or the scarf of a functionary. -He was now sober enough, but uneasy, and looked -about him as if fearing recognition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," said François. They mounted the ill-smelling -stairway to the attic. Neither spoke. Once -they were within the room, François said: "Sit -down." He took a stool, placing himself between -Grégoire and the door. "To business," he said, and -slipped out the famous letter from Grégoire to De la -Vicomterie. He glanced at it, laughing. "There are -three or more heads in this," he said. "Robespierre -would pay well for it, or Saint-Just. One might put -it up at auction. There would be high bidding."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire said: "I have paid for it. Give it to -me—give it to me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No hurry, commissioner." The thief enjoyed the -situation. "Let us talk a little. Let us make things -a trifle safer. Have the kindness to write a receipt for -one hundred louis d'or accepted by thee as security for -the head of one Louis de Ste. Luce, </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> marquis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I!" cried Grégoire, starting up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I think thou wilt"; and, with this, François -drew his quite harmless pistol, and cocked it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dost thou mean to murder me? Help! help! Murder!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François seized him by the throat and thrust him -down on to the chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The devil! Fat fool! must I really kill thee? -Hold thy tongue. Toto," he said, "just look at this -gentleman. He is afraid, a coward—he who has killed -so many—so many brave men and women, who died -and showed no fear. Keep the door, Toto. There, -now, citizen; write it, and quick, too, or—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it is my death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do I care? It is certain death unless thou -dost keep faith. Once the marquis is free, and I am -secure, I will burn it. That is all. Thou art forced -to trust me. The situation is simple, and rather -different from what it was at nine this morning. -Thou art trapped."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was true, and Grégoire knew it. He drew his -chair to the table, and wrote a few lines as the thief -dictated. François added a request for a date. "Thou -art not clever with a pen," he said; "thy hand shakes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a lost man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; by no means. But look out for my marquis. -He ought to be very precious to thee, because—because -if there should be any accident to him or to me, my -friend will promptly place this harmless receipt in the -hands of Saint-Just; and then—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire sat in a cold sweat, saying at intervals: -"I am lost. Let me go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite yet. Give me ten louis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I can't. I left the money at home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art lying. I heard it rattle when I shook -thee. I might take it all. I am generous, just, like -the incorruptible man with the green around his eyes, -one Robespierre. Come, now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire, reluctant, counted out the gold. "Let -me go," he said. There were scarce left in him the -dregs of a man. He rose, pale and tottering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite yet, my friend. Thou wilt wait here a -little while. Then a citizen hag will come up and let -thee out. But be careful; no noise. The gentlemen -who inhabit this mansion like not to be disturbed -in their devotions. Moreover, they are curious, and -generally inquisitive as to purses. Thou hast a few -hours for reflection on thy sins. Pray understand -that this little paper will be put in the hands of a -friend of the marquis; I shall not keep it. The trap -will be well set. Am I clear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The commissioner made no reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I forgot," said Francis. "Here is thy letter. I -keep my word. The receipt is enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The compromising document lay on the table, -unnoticed by Grégoire. He fell back, limp and cowed, -gripping the seat with both hands to save himself from -slipping ont of the chair. The sweat ran down his -face. When François, calling to the poodle, left him -alone, he made no motion; he was like a beaten cur.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Toto," said François, as he locked the door. -"That for his wart! It is not as big as it used to be, -and it is not in the middle of his nose." He went -down to the room of the concierge, and threw the key -of his room in her lap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is very quiet, thy patient up-stairs; he hath a -chill."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quatre Pattes, standing by, nodded, and looked up. -"Is he alive? No lies, young man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alive? Not quite; only well scared. Imagine -thyself one day on the red stair, and the basket all -ready, and so neat,—thou art fond of neatness,—all -as clean as thy room; and the knife—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shut up that big jaw! I am Quatre Pattes. Dost -thou want to frighten me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I? By </span><em class="italics">St. Fiacre</em><span>, no! I only want to let thee -understand how the citizen on the fourth floor feels."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will bleed the better, my dear." She rattled -the sticks, and looked up at François, her head -swaying as the head of the cobra sways. She was still in -some doubt as to this too ready pupil, whom she had -taught so much. "Art thou trying to fool Mother -Quatre Pattes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, stuff! Go up and speak to the man. But -take care; this is no light matter to put thy claws -into. The man will rage; but a day without diet will -quiet him a good bit. Then thou canst begin to make -thy little commercial arrangement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two hundred—three hundred. No rags, no assignats."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Might get four hundred, Mother Crabby. There -will be two sides to the question."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old woman laughed a laugh shrill and virulent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two sides? I see—inside and outside. All right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François stood in the doorway as she spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By-by, </span><em class="italics">maman</em><span>; and don't frighten him too much. -Thy style of beauty is not to the taste of all men. -Folks are really afraid of thee, </span><em class="italics">maman</em><span>. Don't make -it a part of the bargain that he marry thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good idea, that! And when shall I see thee?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly to-morrow; certainly within a week or -so. I may have a few days' work for the committee -in Villefranche—dirty country, filthy inns, not like -thy room"; and he glanced at it. "I always do like -to see how neat it is, and how clean. It would please -Sanson. He is so particular; keeps things clean and -ready—always ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T is true," said Quatre Pattes, and clattered away -up the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François heard her sticks on the stair, and her shrill -laughter. "Thy cheese is poisoned, old rat," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once secure of the absence of his too observant -landlady, François called to Toto and went out of the -house. It was now about half-past one. No -suspicious persons were visible. He had doubted this -Grégoire. He had no mind to leave Paris, but when -asking a passport he meant that Grégoire should think -he had done so. He moved away, with the dog at -his heels, and presently stood awhile in deep thought, -at the end of the street. Grégoire was safe; he could -harm no one for a day, and after that would be the -last man in Paris to trouble François. Amar was to -be feared, but that was to be left to chance and -cautious care. Quatre Pattes? He smiled. "'T is as -fine as a play, Toto. Here comes the last act. Can -we go away and not see it?" He looked back. The -shoemaker whom the Crab had wished him to denounce, -with a view to the eternal settlement of her -debts, was standing at his door in the sun, just -opposite to No. 33 bis. It was a good little man, lame of -a leg, hard-working and timid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not to be resisted, Toto. Come, my boy." -He went back, and pulled the bell at No. 33 bis. No -one answered. He rang three times, and became sure -that, as he had anticipated, the Crab had at once -gone up to see how much of truth there was in his -statement.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 59%" id="figure-149"> -<span id="he-pulled-the-bell-at-no-33-bis"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HE PULLED THE BELL AT No. 33 BIS."" src="images/img-269.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HE PULLED THE BELL AT No. 33 BIS."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus assured, he looked about him. He saw no one -he had need to fear. He crossed the street, and spoke -to the cobbler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come into thy shop; I want to speak to thee." When -within, he said: "I have been arrested, and -let out—praise be to the saints! I have just now seen -the old Crab. She owes thee money?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No matter. She has asked me to denounce thee, -my poor friend. I came to warn thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cobbler gasped. "</span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span> and my little ones! -I have done nothing—I assure thee, nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor I, my friend. Now, listen. I am lucky enough -to be in a little employment for the Great Committee. -I mean to save thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And canst thou do that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes. Something will happen to-morrow, -about four o'clock; and after that no fear of the hag. -I must see it; it is my business. Can I stay a day—I -mean until then—in the little room here above thy shop?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not? The children are with my sister. They -shall stay till to-morrow night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He followed the overjoyed cobbler up to the room -above his shop, sent him out to buy food and wine, -and sat down to await events. The cobbler came back -with a supply of diet and the gazettes. François sat -behind the slats of the green window-shades, and -laughed, or talked to Toto, or read, while at intervals -he watched No. 33 bis. He read of how Charleroi had -been taken, and of the recovery of Fleurus. It -interested him but little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They have cut off the head of the devil, and got -a new god, my good poodle. </span><em class="italics">Tenes</em><span>! Hold! -Attention!" He saw Quatre Pattes clatter out. It was -about 4 P.M. She had no market-net. She was -decisively bent on some errand, and moved with unusual -celerity, her back bent, her head strained upward to -get a sufficient horizon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is altogether pleasant, </span><em class="italics">ami</em><span>. She will not wait -till twelve to-morrow. She has gone to denounce him. -Get up. Here is a nice bite for thee. She is shrewd, -our snake. If she plunders M. Grégoire,—and she -will, too,—she knows what he will do when he is out. -He will denounce her. The play is good, Toto. The -money she will have, if we know her. But, mm ami, -if he makes her believe through the door that he is -the great Grégoire of the wart, and she lets him out, -and is scared, and asks no pay, Toto, 't is nevertheless -a scotched snake she will be. The Wart will want -to be revenged for low diet and loss of the republic's -time. </span><em class="italics">Mordieu</em><span>! Toto, let us bet on it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He read his gazettes, and waited. At six that -afternoon the Crab came home. At nine François went to -bed. Twice he awakened, laughing; he was thinking -about Grégoire. The cobbler came in at six with -breakfast, and François warned him to be careful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At ten in the morning Quatre Pattes appeared at -her door, and chatted with one or two dames of the -fish-market. She rattled her sticks, and talked volubly. -She was in the best of humors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No new thing took place till three o'clock, when -two municipal guards paused at her door. She came -forth, spoke to them, and went in, leaving the door -open. A third joined them. They loitered about. -Ten minutes went by. François grew more and more -eager as he watched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ho, ho, Toto," he exclaimed, "there was a noise! -The fool! she has gone up alone to let him out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was true. Grégoire had yielded in all some three -hundred francs, and, as ordered, had slipped the money -under the door, piece by piece, while Quatre Pattes sat -and counted it with eyes of greed. She came down -and hid the last of it. Now she went up again, rather -liking the errand. She was absolutely fearless. She -opened the door, and stood aside. "Come out," she -said, "little man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire was past restraining his rage. "She-devil!" -he cried, and struck at her in a fury of -passion. He ran past her down the stairs, the terrible -woman after him. She was wonderfully quick, but -the man's fear was quicker. At the last stairway she -found him beyond her reach, and, cursing him in -fluent slang of the quarter, she threw one of her sticks -at him. It caught him on the back of the neck, and -he fell headlong into the hallway. In an instant he -was up and staggering into the street. As he came -forth two guards seized him. "In the name of the -law!" Quatre Pattes came swiftly after him, -screaming out: "Take him! I denounce him! He is an -aristocrat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What she and François saw was unpleasant for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Nom de Ciel!</em><span> 't is the Citizen Grégoire!" cried the -third guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grégoire was for an instant speechless and -breathless. The guards fell back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Arrest me?—me, Grégoire! Have you an order -to arrest me?" He was not quite at ease.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, citizen. It is clearly a mistake. We were -to arrest a </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quatre Pattes stood up, pallid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take this woman!" cried Grégoire. "I will send -an order. The Châtelet, and quick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The little trap did work," cried François, behind -his screen. "How she squeals—like a pig, a pig! -She will give up the money. The citizens and she -disappear within."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 62%" id="figure-150"> -<span id="the-little-trap-did-work-cried-francois-behind-his-screen"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'THE LITTLE TRAP DID WORK,' CRIED FRANÇOIS, BEHIND HIS SCREEN."" src="images/img-273.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'THE LITTLE TRAP DID WORK,' CRIED FRANÇOIS, BEHIND HIS SCREEN."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This woman stole it!" roared the great man, as -they came out. "Take her away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they came to lay final hands on her, she -was like a cat in a corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Chien de mon âme</em><span>! 't is a fine scrimmage," cried -François, "and the street full."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sticks rattled; and when they were torn from -her, she used tooth and claw, to the joy of a crowd -appreciative of personal prowess. At last she was -carried away, screaming, and exhausted as to all but -her tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The commissioner with the wart readjusted his -garments and his dignity. The crowd cried: "</span><em class="italics">Vive -Grégoire!</em><span>" and the hungry Jacobin went his way, -furious, in search of dietetic consolation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The show is over, Toto," said François, as he sat down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently came the cobbler, curious, and much relieved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ask no questions," said François. "Here is a little -money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, citizen, it is a gold louis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The show was worth the price of admission. Thou -art welcome. Hold thy tongue, if thou art wise. At -dusk I shall slip out. Thou art safe. The Crab will -denounce no more of her neighbors."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two she hath sent to the knife," said the cobbler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span> how the </span><em class="italics">tricoteuses</em><span> will grin!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxiii"><span class="bold large">XXIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Of how François found lodgings where he paid no -rent—Of the death of Toto—Of how his master, having -no friends on the earth, finds them underground.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At dusk François went out, and was soon -moving rapidly across Paris. He was -in search of lodging, food, and security. -In an hour or less he was in the -half-peopled quarter of St. Antoine. Near the -barrier he turned aside, and stood considering a little -house in what seemed to have been a well-kept garden. -On the gate was the large red seal of the republic. It -was safe for a night. If he took a lodging, he must -show all his papers, and have his name set out, with -his business, on a placard such as was nailed to the -outer door of every house in Paris. His name, as a -new lodger, must be reported to the sectional -committee. He was widely known, and, alas! too peculiar -to escape notice long. Now he needed time to think. -He wandered awhile, ate in a small café, bought wine -and bread, at night climbed the garden wall, and -without much trouble found his way into the house. -It was a sorry sight. The arrests must have been -sudden and pitiless. The kettle stood on the dead -embers. The bread, burned black, was in the oven. -A half-knit stocking lay on a chair. Up-stairs and -down, it was the same. The open drawers showed -evidence of search. A dead bird lay starved in a cage. -The beds were unmade. The clock had stopped. He -found some scant provisions, unfit for use. It seemed -a gardener's house. The place oppressed him, but it -answered his purpose. His dog troubled him. Toto -was, like himself, conspicuous, and he felt forced -during the daytime to leave him locked up in the -house. But Toto was sagacious, and had learned to -keep quiet. For several days François lived at -daylight in the streets and cafés, returning at night, to -get away again before dawn. In the quiet little -taverns where he went for food and shelter he made -himself small, and hid in corners; nor, at this time, -did he laugh much. He bought the gazettes, and read -them with intelligent apprehension of the fact that -change was in the air. Robespierre had never had -with him a majority of his colleagues, and now he was -becoming more and more conscious of his insecure -hold on the Convention. As long as the ex-nobles or -the foes of the republic suffered, it was of little -moment to the representatives; but when the craving for -blood, not justified by any political reasons, sent too -many of their body to the block, the unease of the -Terror began to be felt within their own hall. To be -timid, cautious, or obscure had once been security. -It was so no longer. That terrible master still had -his way, and, one by one, the best brains of the -opponents of the Jacobins were sent to perish on the -scaffold. The Convention began to feel the need for -associative self-defense. Revenge, fear, and policy -combined to aid the enemies of this extraordinary -person. Like Marat, he began to show physically -the effects of a life full of alarms; for this monster -dreaded darkness, trembled at unusual noises, and -remained to the last the most carefully dressed man -in Paris. To understand him at all, one must credit -him in his early political life with a sincere love of -country, and with willingness to sacrifice himself for -others. It is impossible to regard him as entirely -sound of mind at a later date. He became something -monstrous—a mixture of courage, cowardice, blood-madness, -self-esteem, and personal vanity. But there -were men who loved him to the last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now early in July, the month Thermidor. -François began, as usual, to weary of a life of -monotonous carefulness. His supply of money was ample. -He was well fed and, so far, safe. He sat night after -night in darkness, and thought of the lady of the -château. He knew that her father was thus far -secure; his name was not in the daily lists of the victims; -and these were many, for on the 22d Prairial (June -10) a decree deprived the accused of counsel, and of -the right to call witnesses. The end was near.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One evening about nine, as he came near to the -garden, he saw lights in the house. Toto was found -waiting outside of the gate. A girl came forth, and -soon returned with a net of vegetables.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ciel</em><span>! Toto," said François, "the poor things have -been released, and thou wert clever to get out. We -are glad, thou and I; but they have our house." He -had left nothing at this lodging, having nothing to -leave. He walked away, puzzled, and, wandering, -scarce aware of whither he went, found himself at -last in the Rue de Seine. It was getting late, and he -began to look about him for a new lodging.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must find an empty house, Toto. The seal of -this cursed republic is our best chance." He did not -need to look far. In the Rue de Seine he came upon -a small two-story shop. Beside it was a wide gateway, -on which he saw with difficulty, but felt readily, -the seal no one dared to violate. He concluded that -there must be a deserted house beyond it, in a -garden. He passed around by the </span><em class="italics">quai</em><span>, and entered -the Rue des Petits-Augustines, and stood before the -mansion of Ste. Luce. A light was in an upper room. -Some one was in charge. On either side were railings -and a garden. It was now ten o'clock, and no one -visible in the long street of old houses, once the homes -of the great French nobles. He pushed the poodle -between the rails, and readily pulled himself up and -dropped at his side. Once within, he moved with care -across to the wall behind the mansion, and soon saw -that he was not in the garden of the marquis, but in -the larger domain of the Duc de la Rochefoucauld-Liancourt. -His object was to find his way into the -house which had an outlet on the Rue de Seine. As -he was arranging his clothing to climb a tree near to -the wall, he suddenly paused. "Toto," he exclaimed, -"we have been robbed,—we—first-class thieves,—and -we know not when it was. Ah, it was at that café, -as we came out. Well done, too. Not a sou. Weep, -Toto; we are broken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lost no more time in lamentation, but climbed -the tree, looked over, came down, pulled up the dog, -and descended on the farther side of the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was now in a small garden. Near him, and -close to the wall, was a little plant-house. On the -farther side of a grassy space stood a hotel of moderate -size, with the front court, as he presumed, opening -on the Rue de Seine. On each side, as he saw clearly, -for the night was bright and the moon rising, there -were high flanking walls. After assuring himself that -the house was empty, François found a trellis covered -with old vines, and, climbing this, entered the hotel by -a convenient balcony. He was safe for the night, and -at leisure to explore his new dwelling. He feared to -strike a light, but he could see dimly that there were -pictures, books, china. Evidently this had been the -home of people of wealth. As the moon rose higher, -he saw still better, and began to realize the fact that -here were evidences of hasty flight. In a room on the -second floor was a secretary, and this François readily -opened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Toto," he said, "we are rich again." He had -found forty louis in a canvas bag which comfortably -fitted his side pocket. In the larder he came upon -meat, cooked and uncooked, mostly unfit for use, stale -bread, and cheese. Once satisfied, he went over the -house, and then the garden, taking pains at last to -set a ladder against the wall of the Rochefoucauld -property.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The glass-house was in disorder, the plants lying -about, uncared for. His foot struck an iron ring -attached to a trap-door. There were staples for -padlocking it, but no padlock. He concluded this to be -the opening to a wine-cave or -cellar, and lifted the -trap. It was dark below. He ventured down the -steps a little way, and then stood still to listen. -Hearing noises below him, he retreated in haste. He was, -as has been said, superstitious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is strange! We will look about when it -is day, Toto—not now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Concluding to sleep out of doors, he accordingly -arranged for his comfort by taking a pillow and -blankets from the house; for now he had opened a -door below, and was in full possession. Suites of -apartments which he dared not use for sleep, and a -pretty little library, overlooked the small estate of the -garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No occupied dwelling was in view. Great trees in -the grounds of La Rochefoucauld and Ste. Luce -partially hid the houses, and, what was of more moment, -shut off the sight of François's refuge. It was, of -course, possible that at any time he might be -disturbed by the coming of the officers, or, what was to -be feared less, that of the owners. But he was not -a man to be continually anxious. The outer front -door had a bar, and this he dropped into its socket. -The side walls were high. He could hear any one -who attempted to enter. His way out at the back -was made easy by the ladder he had set in place. At -dusk he began to be fully at ease, and after a day or -two was hardly less so in the sun-lit hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the morning of the third day, much at home, -he sat behind the little plant-house, with Toto at his -feet, and a book in his hand, for in the library he -found several which excited his interest. Now he -was deep in a French translation of the travels of -Marco Polo. Suddenly he heard a noise of steps. -He fell back, caught Toto with a warning grasp on -the jaw, and lay still. He was so hidden in the -narrow space between the plant-house and the wall of -the garden as to be for the time secure. No longer -hearing anything alarming, he rose and looked -cautiously through the double glass and the sheltering -plants which were between himself and the mansion. -In a few minutes a tall man came out of the plant-house, -went into the dwelling, and by and by returning -with blankets and a basket, passed into the plant-house, -and was lost to sight. He soon came out -again with a lad, and after several such journeys to -the main house, whence each time he fetched something, -they reëntered the plant-house, and came forth -no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This incident greatly amazed the thief. "Toto," he -said, "there must be a trap below! 'T is a lower -cellar it leads to, and there are people beneath. </span><em class="italics">Hélas</em><span>, -Toto! no sooner are we gentlemen with an estate -than, presto! a change, and it is get up and go. It -were better we took to the woods and saw far countries, -like this M. Polo." Toto regarded his master with -attentive eyes, the long black tail wagging. He seemed -to comprehend François's difficulties, or at least to feel -some vague desire to help and comfort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes; it is time we settled down, </span><em class="italics">mon ami</em><span>. -Behold, we get a little money and wherewithal to -live; we hurt no one; we cultivate our minds with -travel; we start fresh, and are honest, having -enough,—which is a good foundation for honesty,—and -then—</span><em class="italics">eh bien!</em><span> my friend; let us laugh"; and he lay on -his back, and tumbled the dog about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was in the garden, near to the dwelling, a day -later, when he heard noises as of steps in the La -Rochefoucauld grounds. He climbed the ladder, and, -without showing himself, listened. There were voices, -and now and then he caught a phrase. These were -municipal guards. He beckoned to Toto, and, -crossing the garden, entered the house, meaning to watch -his new neighbors from a window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went up-stairs to the third story under the roof. -As he moved toward a window, he heard a sound -below. He ran down the stair, and stood on the -lower landing-place, facing the front door. "We are -gone, Toto!" For once he was at a loss, and stood -still, in doubt what to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were voices outside. The hall door had been -unlocked, but the bar held it fast. After a minute or -two they seemed to have given up the idea of -entering. François waited a few minutes, and began to -descend the stairs. Then he heard quick footfalls in -the room to the left on the level of the landing above -him. Some one must have entered by a window on -the second floor. He turned, perplexed, instinctively -drew his useless pistol, and began to go faster. -Suddenly the steps above him quickened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A man on the staircase landing behind him cried: -"Halloo! Surrender, in the name of the republic!" François -jumped, taking the stairs below him in one -leap, but, tripping over Toto, fell headlong in the hall. -The dog sprang after him, and alighted on his master's -back. A pistol-shot rang out. The dog fell dead with a -ball in his brain. François was on his feet. He cast a -glance at the faithful friend of many a day. His own -long, strange face became like that of a madman. -He dashed up the stair, a second ball missing him -narrowly. Through the smoke he bounded on his -enemy. He caught the man by the right arm, wrested -the pistol from him, and, scarce feeling a blow from -the fellow's left hand, struck him full in the face with -the butt of the pistol. The blood flew, and the man -staggered, screaming. A second blow and a third fell. -Twisting his victim around, François hurled him down -the stair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beast!" he cried; and, leaping over him, stooped -a moment, kissed the quivering little body of his friend, -and, with tears streaming from his eyes, stood still. -Loud cries from beyond the wall of the garden recalled -his energies. The noise at the door was heard again. -He ran out and across into the plant-house, pulled -up the trap, and, descending, closed it. Then he stood -puzzled. It was dark; he could see nothing. He fell -on his knees, and began hastily to grope about until -he felt an iron ring attached to the trap-door of what -he presumed to be the entrance to a yet lower cellar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is this or death," he muttered under his breath, -and stood reflecting, having heard no sounds -approaching overhead. Thinking it better to see and -be seen by those below, he struck his flint on the steel, -and, with the aid of a morsel of paper and his kindling -breath, soon had a light. Then he saw near by a -lantern with a candle within it. He lighted it, and held -it in one hand. This done, he knelt again, and with -a quick movement set open the trap-doorway. What -he saw was a man and the muzzle of a pistol. The -man cried out: "If you move, you are dead!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not a municipal, monsieur. I am only a -thief. Let me come down, for God's sake! I am -flying from those rascals who are in the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have half a mind to blow your brains out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ciel</em><span>! I hope you will not have a whole mind. It -would only call those scoundrels. I stole a little from -the house—I return it"; and he dropped the bag of -louis. It fell on the head of a small boy below, unseen -in the gloom. He howled lustily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Diantre!</em><span> keep quiet!" cried the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, let him come down, duke; he is welcome." It -was the voice of a woman out of the deep darkness. -Tender and clear it was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be quick, then, rascal! Down with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thief waited for no second invitation. The -duke descended; François's long legs came after. He -paused to arrange some loose staves, that, in falling, -they might conceal the trap. Then he blew out the -candle, and was in total darkness, but where or with -whom he knew not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have a care how you move," said the voice of the -woman. "We are in great peril. Come down quietly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May all the saints bless you!" said François, and -sat down on the lower step. For a while all was still.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxiv"><span class="bold large">XXIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Of how François got into good society underground—Of -what he saw, and of the value of a cat's eyes—From -darkness to light—Of how François made friends for life.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"It was dark indeed; I had never imagined -such darkness," says François in his -memoirs.[#] He adds that he has heard -the story of this wonderful escape from -the catacombs told over and over by -M. des Illes. He does not consider that it did him -(François), the principal person, sufficient justice. He -had also heard the old Duke Philippe relate the matter, -and it was incredible how crooked he got it. But, then, -Duke Philippe was a man who had no sense of humor. -As to his dear Mme. des Illes, when she did tell this -story, the baby was the chief hero. Duke Henri,—that -is, the present man,—although only a lad when -these events took place, remembered them well.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] See Epilogue.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"When he was seventeen," says François, "we used -to fence together. I have often heard him relate to -the other young fellows how we made our escape; but -Duke Henri has too much imagination, and that, you -see, makes a man inaccurate. I knew two very -accomplished thieves who were inaccurate. I am not. -Duke Henri's tale got stronger, like wine, as time -went on. The rats grew to be of the size of cats; -three of them pulled the baby out of madame's lap. -And as to the people we killed, it would have satisfied -M. Dumas, who is the greatest and most correct of -such as write history."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The present author grieves that he has not the -narration of this famous escape at the hands of -Mme. des Illes and the two dukes, father and son. Those -who have found leisure to read "A Little More -Burgundy" have heard Des Illes's narrative as M. des -Illes related it. Those who have not read that -rendering may incline to hear François's own statement -of what happened after he thus found himself in -darkness with people he had never seen. I have -followed his memoir pretty closely. It tells some -things of which the other people concerned did not -know. Evidently he considered it a less tragic affair -than did they. It has been needful to condense -François's account, and to do this especially where -he speaks of his own intermediate adventures, which -were singular enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When, as I have said, François, obeying Duke -Philippe, put out his lantern, he sat still awhile, and -said nothing. Like the rest, he was fearful lest the -officers he had disturbed so rudely should make a -too effective search. Their inspection of the upper -cellar would be perilous enough. The anxious people -beneath held their breaths when a man overhead -stumbled across the staves the thief had set to fall -on the trap-door. After a while all noises faded -away, and in the evening the duke proposed to -reconnoiter once more; but when he tried to lift the trap, -it was found impossible to do so. The municipals, in -their examination, must have rolled a full barrel of -wine upon the door. This discovery was, or seemed, -an overwhelming calamity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François during the day came to understand that -here in the darkness were Duke Philippe de St. Maur, -his son Henri, a lad, another rather older boy, Des -Illes, Mme. des Illes, and the baby, who made himself -terribly well known by occasional protests in the -tongue of babyhood. As the thief became accustomed -to the gloom and the company, his usual cheeriness -returned; and when they could not open the trap he -began to propose all manner of schemes. He would -bore a hole and let out the wine, and so lighten the -barrel. He would shoot a ball through the trap and -the barrel, and thus let out the weight of wine. The -duke, who never lost respect for his own dignity, was -disgusted, and would listen to none of his counsels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Toward bedtime the baby began to wail dismally; -the boys sobbed; and Mme. des Illes cried out to them -that they should be ashamed to complain, and then, -by way of comment, herself burst into tears; while -the duke stumbled about, and swore under his breath. -This was all very astonishing to François, who had -seen little of any world but his own, and to whom -calamity served only as a hint to consider some way -to escape its effects. He remained silent for a while, -after the duke had let him plainly understand that he -was a fool and had better hold his tongue. This -lasted for a half-hour, during which he sat still, -thinking, with full eyes, of his dead dog. By degrees the -children grew quiet, and the baby, having exhausted -his vocabulary and himself, fell asleep. Then the -duke said irritably:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why the deuce don't you do something, Master -Thief? If you can get into places where you do not -belong, why cannot you get out of this abominable box?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François laughed. "Get out I would, and gladly; -but how? We might wait, monsieur, till they drink -up the wine, or until it dries up, or—" But here the -boys laughed, and even the duke forgot himself, and -said François was a merry fellow. Indeed, he was of -use to them all; for, soon becoming at ease, he regaled -the boys with his adventures; but how many he -invented I do not know. Some were queer, and some -silly; but all tales are good in the dark, for then what -can one do but attend?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a while, all being still, François lighted his -lantern, on which Duke Philippe said: "Put out that light; -we have too few candles as it is; and keep quiet. You -are prowling about like a cat on the tiles, and twice -you have stumbled over my legs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I have twice said I was sorry," said François, -getting tired of this duke with an uncertain temper, -who repeated: "Put out that light, and sit down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then madame spoke: "He may have a reason to -want to see and to move about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T is so," said François. "If I walk, my wits -walk; if I sit, they go to sleep; and as to cats, -madame, I am a street cat"; and, thinking of -Suzanne, he laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, confound your laughing!" The duke felt -that to laugh at a joke he did not share was, to say -the least, disrespectful. "What is there to laugh at?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François, who had been moving as he spoke, was -suddenly elated. He said it was Suzanne he was -thinking of; and when madame would know if she -were his wife, the duke was silent out of lack of -interest for low company, and François began to tell -about the elders and the Hebrew maid, and of the -Amalekites who lived on the next roof. The boys -were charmed, and madame said, "Fie! fie!" but it -served to amuse. An hour later he began to move -about restlessly, and at last cried out, from the far end -of the cellar:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This way, monsieur; what is this? A candle—and -quick!" When they all came to see, he rolled aside -an empty cask, and showed a heavy planking. He -seized the decayed timbers and tore them away, so -that as they fell a black gap was to be seen. The -air blew in, cool and damp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span> 't is the catacombs. My husband's -grandfather cut off this end for a wine-cave. It is -strange I should have quite forgotten it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what then?" said the duke. "It is only a -grave you have opened. You might as well have -kept quiet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thief's feelings were hurt; he began to care -less and less for this useless nobleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame said thoughtfully: "It may be a way out. -If it come to the worst, we can but try it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame is right; and as to keeping quiet, I never -could. Sleeping cats catch no rats." He believed in -his luck. "We shall get out," he said, with cool -assurance. "I always do. I have been in many scrapes. -I got out of the Madelonnettes, and I was once near -to decorating a rope."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A rope!" exclaimed madame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. </span><em class="italics">Parbleu</em><span>! I wear my cravat loose ever since. -I like to have full swing, but not in that way." He -was gay and talkative. The boys liked it; but not so -the duke, who said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what next?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must explore. I will enter and see a little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," said the woman, "you will get lost; and -then, what to do?" She had come to trust the thief. -He saw this, and liked it. "If we lose you, what -shall we do?—what </span><em class="italics">shall</em><span> we do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thief turned to her as he stood, lantern in hand. -He was grave. "Madame, I am a poor thief of the -streets; I have had to live as I could; and since I was -a boy I can count the kind words ever said to me by -man or woman. I shall not forget."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame was moved, and said they were all alike -come upon evil days, and that perhaps now he would -turn from his wicked ways.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor François was not quite clear as to his ways -having been wicked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if you are going," said the duke, "you had -better be about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was then young Des Illes said he must have a -string, like people who went into caves, else he might -never find his way back. The thief thought it a fine -idea; and here was madame's big ball of knitting-wool. -With no more delay, he took it, and leaving -an end in Des Illes's hand, boldly walked away -into the darkness with his lantern, and was soon lost -to view.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he came back to this anxious company, he -had to report such a tangle of passages as caused him -to say that to try to escape through these must be a -last resort. He thought they might live on the rats -if provisions gave out, but they must eat them raw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Hélas!</em><span> what a fate!" said madame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little Duke Henri spoke eagerly, and said the -Chinese ate rats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not raw," cried the young Des Illes, which set -them all to laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soon again they were quiet, because talk in the dark -does not prosper. A little later madame called softly -to the thief to sit by her, and would hear of his life. -François related his exploits with pride. She made no -comment, but said at last: "Your name, my friend?" And -when he replied, "François," she declared that -he was no more to be any one's thief, but always -François; and this was a hint to the duke, who took it in -silence, and was evidently depressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After this, madame bade the boys say their prayers; -and soon all were asleep, except François, who sat -against a cask, and saw Toto's brown eyes in the -darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last the morrow came. The provisions were -shared, and, as usual with François, his spirits rose -as he filled his stomach. He held the baby, and was -queerly interested in this mystery of unwinking eyes. -Might he give it of the bottle? He satisfied the child, -who seemed fearless of that long, good-humored face. -Might he hold it longer? It would relieve madame. -He sang low to it a queer thief-song, and then another -none there could understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ciel!</em><span>" said the duke, who had slept off his splenetic -mood; "you have a fine voice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, would it were a hymn," said madame, "or a -psalm of Clément Marot!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know no hymns," said François, "but only some -old choir chants."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon this he began to sing, low and sweet, one of -the old Latin songs:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Salve, mundi salutare,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Salve, salve, Jesu care!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Cruel tuæ me aptare</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Vellem vere, tu sols quare,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Da mihi tui capiam.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The rich voice which in his boyhood days had soared -like a lark up among the arches of Notre Dame had -come again. He heard himself with wonder and with -sad thoughts of the chances his boyish haste had -forever lost for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you a thief!" cried madame. "Where—where -did you learn—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at this moment noises overhead put an end to -all but listening. At last François said: "They -move the casks. It were well to take to the caves." And -this was hastily agreed to, when, of a sudden, -the noises ceased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François still urged instant flight; but the duke -said, "No; we must wait," and gave no reasons. The -thief did not agree, but held his tongue, as Mme. des -Illes said nothing, and since, after all, this was a -duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An hour later he started up. "By Heaven, they -are at the trap!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The duke was no coward. He ran up the steps, -pistol in hand, and gave his second weapon to -François, who stood below. The trap was cast wide open, -and a big municipal was seen stooping over the open -space; for beyond him the cellar was well lighted up. -The duke fired without an instant's indecision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By St. Denis! 't is a man, this duke," cried -François, as the officer pitched head down into the cave. -The thief set a foot on him as he lay, and reached up -the second pistol to the duke, while young Des Illes, -too curious for fear, crawled up the broad stone stairs -to see. The thief heard a second shot, and followed -the lad. There were several candles set on casks, and -through the smoke he saw a municipal in a heap at -the far end of the upper cellar. He was groaning -piteously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Load again, monsieur," cried François. "Quick! there -may be more." He himself went past the duke, -and young Des Illes after him. He turned the officer -over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is not dead," he said. "Best to finish him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But here was madame at his side, saying: "No, -no! No more—I will not have it. </span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu!</em><span> it is -bad enough. I will have no murder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then let us go back; he is as good as dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!</em><span>" cried the woman; and so -in haste the upper trap was closed, and all went again -down to the cave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer below was dead, with a ball through his -head. Mother and children huddled away in the far -corner, scared. The duke said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What now must we do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must go, and at once," said François. "They -will soon come back, and then—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes," cried madame; "you are right. You -were right; we should have gone before, and saved -all this bloodshed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The duke made no comment, except to mutter, "I -suppose so"; and at once began to assist François's -preparations for flight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the thief's readiness and efficiency were -shown. He arranged every one's loads, filled baskets, -laughed over a shoulder at the boys as he strapped -blankets on the duke, and at last loaded himself with -all that was left. They took the arms of the dead -man, and soon trooped out into the darkness. The -duke, who at once went on ahead, carried a lantern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the first turn, François called out to wait, and -ran back. The duke swore. He was now eager to -go on, and declared that the thief would deliver them -up, and save his own head. But madame was of -other mind, and so they stood expectant. At last -came François, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, monsieur, this comes of honest company. I -forgot the bag of gold. And these—these are priceless. -I have the fellow's clothes. When a man does -not resist, the temptation is great; neither did he -assist."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop that talk, and come on. Are we going to -set up a shop for old clothes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François fell behind. "The duke would make a -poor thief," he said to the boys. Young Henri de -St. Maur said: "You are insolent. My father a thief!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tiens</em><span>! There are times when to steal is virtue. -</span><em class="italics">Allons donc!</em><span>" and he strode on, laughing, and telling -the boys stories.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were many little incidents that day, but the -worst was at evening, when they found a great cave, -lofty and wide, where had been cast, long before, the -bones out of the overfilled cemeteries. Here it was -that skulls fell from the great heap, and rolled away -on every side into the darkness, while the rats ran -out in armies. The thief was of all the most alarmed, -and stood still, saying paternosters and aves by the -dozen. After this they went on aimlessly, now and -then hearing overhead the roar and rumble of wagons. -Their nights proved to be full of sore trials. The rats -assembled, and grew bolder. One bit the baby, who -cried until the thief lighted a candle and watched -while the rest slept, or tried to do so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dismalness of, these underground labyrinths -was such as no man could imagine. One day they -walked a half-mile through a wet cave-passage so -narrow that two persons could not move abreast. It -ended in a blank wall, and they were forced to go -back, over shoe-top in water. Or, again, they went -up rude stairs, stumbling, but hopeful, only to descend -once more into the depths of the earth. Now and -then a putrid rain fell on them, and at every turn the -rats fled by them, now one and now a scurry of -countless troops. Twice a mass of rock fell in some -distant passage, and strange echoes reverberated in -cavern spaces, so that the boys cried out in terror, and -even François shivered at the thought of how they -might be buried alive by one of these downfalls. Each -sad day of weariness had its incident of terror or -disappointment; and still, with lessening hope, they -trailed on after the dim light which the duke carried -as he led them—none knew whither. Each morning -they rose cold, wet, and unrefreshed, ate of their -lessening food, and after some little talk as to how -this day they should keep turning to left or to right, -set out anew, the duke still in advance, with an -ever-changing mind as to where they were or what they -should do. As day followed day, their halts became -more frequent. They lingered where the dripping -rain from the sewage of the great city overhead was -least; or at times paused suddenly to listen to -mysterious sounds, or to let the rats go by them, splashing -in the noisome puddles underfoot. The night was as -the day, the day as the night. They had no way to -tell the one from the other, except by the duke's watch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So confusing was this monotonous tramp underground, -the days so much alike, that at last these sad -people became bewildered as to how long they had -wandered. Their food was becoming less and less, -and on the evening of the fifth day the duke and -François knew that very soon their stock of candles -would be exhausted. These had, in fact, been of small -use, except to keep the scared children more cheerful -when night came on and the rats grew bold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This evening of the fifth day, and earlier than usual, -Mme. des Illes declared of a sudden that she could -go no farther, and must rest for the night. The duke -had a new plan, and urged her to go on. She cried -over the baby on her lap, and made no answer. They -sat down to pass another night of discomfort. After a -little talk with the boys, François drew apart from the -rest, and began to think over the wanderings of the -day. Their situation this evening was somewhat better -than it had usually been, for they sat in a dry end of -one of the many excavations, and did not feel the -cold, moist winds which howled along these stony -caves, carrying a changeful variety of unwholesome -stenches. A silent hour went by in utter darkness. -At times François rose to drive away adventurous -rats. At last he lighted a candle, and set it at the -open end of the cul-de-sac. When he saw that the -rats would not pass the lantern, he whispered to -madame of this, and that he meant to explore a little, -and bade her have no fear. The duke had thus far -had his own way, and it had not been to François's -taste. He took a second lantern, and moved off around -a corner, resolute to find a means of escape. The duke -ordered him to return and to put out the candle. -François made no reply. He counted the turns as he -went on, and listened for the noise of vehicles above him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pretty duke, that!" he said. "I should have -made as good a one. I like better that devil of a -marquis; but </span><em class="italics">diantre!</em><span> neither is much afraid—nor I, for -that matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sometimes he turned back, at others went on boldly, -noting whence blew any current of warmer air. At -last he came upon an enormous excavation. In the -middle was a mass of partly tumbled stone, laid in -courses. This broken heap was large, and irregularly -conical. He moved around it in wonder, having seen -nothing like it in his explorations. He turned the -yellow and feeble lantern-light upon the heap, and at -first concluded that the old makers of these quarries -had here built for themselves a house, which had fallen -to ruin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But where was he, and what part of Paris was over -his head? He remembered at last to have heard that -these catacombs were once used as receptacles for the -dead, in order to relieve the overpeopled graveyards. -Had he been less alarmed, he might have guessed -where he was when they came upon the bones; for -that must have been near to the cemetery of the -Church of the Innocents. But while the duke had -led, François had taken less than his usual active -notice, and had been content to follow. Here, now, -was a new landmark. This before him could be no -dwelling of quarriers, but must be a house fallen into -the great cave. He had heard of such happenings. -To be certain where and on what street so strange a -thing had occurred would afford knowledge as to the -part of Paris under which he stood. He would ask -the duke; he might know. Thus reflecting, he began -to walk around the tumbled mass. A vast amount of -earth must have come down with it. He pried here -and there, and at last found a gap in the ruin, and -crawled in between fallen timbers until he could stand -up. On one side was a wall and a wide chimney-place, -and on the top of this wall the great beams of the -ceiling still rested. Their farther ends lay on what -seemed the wreck of the opposite wall, thus leaving a -triangular space filled in at each side by broken stone. -Amid this were the crushed steps of a staircase, quite -blocked up. The lantern gave little light. Only close -to the fireplace could the tall thief stand erect. He -turned his lantern, and cried out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ye saints!" Close beside him were the remains -of a high-backed chair, and on these, and beside them, -portions of the bones of a man. Two great jack-boots -lay beside him, gnawed by rats. His skull was broken, -and lay where the eager animals had dragged it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Few could have stood here alone, and not felt its -terror and its mystery. François stood a moment, -appalled, and unable to think or to observe. At last -he began to study the place with care and increasing -interest. A rusty sword, sheathed, was caught in the -arm of the ruined chair. Here and there lay bits of -gold lace. He picked up the rusted clasp of a purse, -gnawed by the rats. Near it lay scattered a number -of gold and silver coins, a rosary, and a small ring set -with red stones. He put them all in his pocket. There -was scarce a remnant of the man's dress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François looked at the tumbled bones. "</span><em class="italics">Mon -Dieu!</em><span>" said he; "am I like that?" and turned to see -what else was here. On the lowest stair was a glint -of yellow—a cross of gold. "Good luck!" he cried. -On the hearth was a copper kettle, green with rust. -Soon he began to see better, and at last found a -fragment of wood less damp than the rest of the floor and -what lay upon it; for a steady, slow, irregular rain -fell in drops, with dull patter here and there. He -shaved off some slivers of the wood, and, getting at -the drier inside, soon, with paper from his pouch, made -a fire on the stone pavement. Presently he had a -bright little blaze, and in the brilliant glow began to -shed his terror. He found other wood, and nourished -the flame. But when he saw that the fragments were -from the end of a crushed cradle, he ceased to use -them; because here were little bones lying scattered, -and the man guessed at the extent of the tragedy, and -was strangely stirred. He moved to and fro in the -tent-like space in awe and wonder, in thought -reconstructing the house, and seeming to share in the -horror of its story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before leaving, he looked again at the overturned -chair, the stones lying about it, and the moldering -remains of the man. He must have been asleep, and -died instantly when the house fell into the great cave. -There was no more to be seen. "God rest his soul!" -said the thief, and crawled backward out of the tangle -of broken beams and stones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes he was again with those he had -left, and, saying only, "'T is well, madame; we shall -get out," fell into a peaceful sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day every one dragged on wearily, the duke -still leading, and François hoping that he would be -asked advice. The water rained on them a noisome -downfall, the rats came out in hordes; and still -François cheered his companions, now carrying the baby, -and now encouraging the tired boys.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have not given in full detail all the miseries of -these weary days and sorrowful nights. They have -been more fully told elsewhere by one who felt them -as more serious than did François, whose narrative I -now am following. These unhappy victims of the -Terror had been altogether six days in the cave, but -François not so long. By this time their spirit was -quite broken. The thief alone remained gay, hopeful, -and even confident, but saw clearly enough that these -people, used to easy lives, could not endure much -longer the strain of this unguided wandering in the -dark and somber alleys of this horrible labyrinth of -darkness and foul odors. The duke seemed also to -be of a like mind, for on the morning of the seventh -day he awakened François at six, and, of a sudden -grown sadly familiar, whispered low to him:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there any hope? Madame and the boys are -failing. Soon we shall have to carry them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall get out," said François.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how? how? Why to-day any more than -yesterday? Do you think of any way to help us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If monsieur will permit me to lead—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good! Why did you not say so before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François made no direct reply, but asked: "Did -ever a house fall into these quarry-caves?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A house? Why do you ask? Yes; it was long -ago. The house of the lieutenant of the guard it was. -I do not recall the date. A house in the Rue des -Pêches."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will this help to know when it was?" and -François showed his coins and told his story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes; I see. How wonderful! These are of -the time of Francis I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rue des Pêches?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; it is now the Rue des Bon Secours. It is -close to the Asile des Innocents."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dieu!</em><span> monsieur, then I know. I think we may -get out to-day; but it may be well not yet to tell -madame. I think we are still near to the fallen -house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you shall lead," said the duke. "</span><em class="italics">Tiens!</em><span> a -queer fellow, this thief," he muttered, and went to -waken the sleeping children. No word was said as -to the house of the lieutenant of the guard, but -François refreshed the tired party by promising a speedy -glimpse of day. For, now that the candles were few, -they thought more of this than of the perils which -the daylight might bring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thief led, and all day long they went on and -on. Once he was quite dismayed to find that he had -lost his way, and once came to the very entrance of -the cave he had left the night before. The duke again -became querulous and dissatisfied; but François only -laughed, and, resolutely concealing his mistake, -retraced his steps. It was near to seven o'clock in the -evening of July 28 when the thief bade them rest, -and he would be back soon. The duke said something -cross; but François made no reply, and, turning -a corner, lost sight of his party. He took careful -note of the turns and windings of this maze, and now -and then found himself in a blind alley, and must of -need turn back. At the far end of one of these recesses -he saw in the gloom two great, green, phosphorescent -eyes. Like mighty jewels they were, set in the -darkness. They were soon lost to view, and came and -went. "They are cats," he murmured; "and what a -hunting estate they have! Ye saints! if I had here -my poor Toto!" He began to move toward these eyes, -which shot back the light his lantern gave. There were -three sets of the pale-green jewels, and now their -owners were maneuvering to escape. He began to -use caressing cat-talk, such as had won the heart of -Suzanne, and, falling on his knees, crept closer. Then -there was a quick rush past him of his feline game; -but one cat was indecisive, and he had her by the leg. -He paid well for his audacity, but held on, and pretty -soon began to exercise the curious control he had over -all animals. At last pussy lay still and panting. -When the scared animal grew quiet, he set her down. -For a moment she hesitated, and then began to move -away. As he followed she ran. He cast the lantern-light -before her, and pursued her with all speed. -Once or twice she was nearly lost to view. Then she -turned a corner, and another, and of a sudden fled -toward a distant archway, through which he saw the -light of day. A great rush of warm air went by him. -He stood still, murmuring aves. To his surprise, he -was near to the place where he had left his -companions. He stood a moment in deep thought. "We -are out at last," he murmured. "But </span><em class="italics">ciel!</em><span> there is -much to think about. We may have too much light."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went back and told of the discovery, but of the -cat not a word. The duke said: "I thought we should -soon get out; come, let us be off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame said gently: "Let us kneel before we go, -and thank the good God for this friend he sent us in -our trouble." Then they all knelt, and she prayed, -speaking her thankfulness to Heaven, with at the end -a word as to her husband, and also asking God's mercy -for him who had led them forth out of darkness into -light. When François heard her, he was disturbed as -he had never been in all his days. When a man like -François sheds tears, it is a great event in his life. -He rose from his knees, and asked the duke and the -rest to go with him; and thus it was that in a few -minutes they stood fifty feet from an open archway, -through which came the level light from the western sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The duke was moved at last to say how clever -François had been; and how had he managed it? -The thief declared it had been easy; but the cat got -no credit, and never was praised, then or ever, for her -share of their escape. Set in this rocky frame before -them was a picture as it were of a disused quarry, -and beyond it vineyards, with yet farther a red-tiled -housetop. Here it was, as they paused, that madame -said solemnly, with tears in her eyes:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'God said, Let there be light: and there was light. -And God saw the light, that it was good.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the duke and François had peeped out, and -seen no one, the duke began to set forth a variety of -schemes as to what they should do. None of these -was very wise, and at last madame turned to François. -He had disappeared, but presently came again, dressed -in the clothes of the dead officer. He wore his sword -and pistols, and now, as seen clearly in the light of -day, was certainly a queer enough figure. The -garments were too short below and too wide above, and -over them rose the long face, the broad mouth, and -the huge ears. The boys, who looked on their troubles -as at an end, set up a shout of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The deuce! I shall arrest you, citizens," cried -François. "And first, monsieur." He explained that -he proposed to tie the duke's hands behind his back, -and with, as was usual, one end of the rope in his -hand, would conduct the </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span> into Paris by the -Barrière d'Enfer. The weeping widow would follow, -with the two children, to see the last of their poor papa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The duke was disgusted, but pretended to be much -amused. "Well, it is a pretty comedy," he said, as -Mme. des Illes insisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>" said the thief, "but the tragedy is not far away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what is to come after?" said she. "Had we -not better wait till night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. The guards are doubled at night. It is -boldness which will win."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what then, François?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must find for you a refuge while I go to see if -M. des Illes may not have returned; for, madame, you -have assured me that he would be released. Pray -God it is so. And what better is there?" The duke -was forced to consent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A rope found in the officer's pocket made part of -François's spoil. He tied the duke's hands, and -showed him how, at need, a pull would release them. -The gold was divided. All else they left. François -reported the way clear, and they set out. But the -boys giggled so much at the duke and his indignant -face that François paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>" he cried, "madame must weep." She was -already doing that, her mind on the fate of M. des -Illes. "If you boys are fools, and laugh, we are lost. -Cry, if you can; but, for the love of Heaven, do not -look about you, or smile. Take a hand of madame—so. -Cry, if ever you mean to get away safe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The road beyond the quarry was little used, and -they went on, the duke furious. When they met any -one, François cried: "Get on, aristocrat! Pig of a -</span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span>, march!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Duke Philippe muttered: "</span><em class="italics">Sacré</em><span>, thief!" and got -a smart jerk of the rope, and more abuse, until the -fun of it nearly upset the thief, who could scarce -contain himself. At the Barrière d'Enfer were but -two guards; nor were there as many people in the -streets as usual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly François halted at the summons to leave -his prisoner with one of the two men, and to enter the -little office and exhibit his papers, as was needful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dame!</em><span>" muttered the thief, "one cannot know all -things. I forgot about the papers." He showed, -however, no indecision. "Guard this wretch, citizen," -he said. "Here, take the rope. He is a returned -</span><em class="italics">émigré</em><span>." The man took the rope. "I shall not be -long." So saying, he went in after the second guard, -closing the door behind them. The man sat down -at a desk, and opened a blank-book, saying: "The -order, citizen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid it is lost," said François, eagerly -searching his acquired pockets. "The mischief! -What to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To do? Thou must wait till the lieutenant comes -back. He has gone to see the fun."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fun! What fun?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the man rose hastily. "</span><em class="italics">Diable!</em><span> -thou art François! I thought I knew thy voice. -There are orders to arrest thee. Citizen Amar -desires thy society. Best make no fuss. I arrest thee. -I am in luck. It is sure promotion. What trick art -thou up to? And those folks outside, who axe they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But thou, an old thief, to arrest a comrade! Surely -thou wilt not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No use. Come! no nonsense."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François put out a pleading hand. "But they will -kill me, comrade." He looked all the alarm needed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In an instant the strongest grip of the Cité was on -the man's throat, and closed as a vise closes. A faint -cry escaped as the man struggled. François threw a -leg back of the fellow, and as he fell dropped on his -chest. It was brief. The man's heels clattered on the -floor; he was still. The thief rose. The man was to -appearance dead. He would revive, perhaps. "</span><em class="italics">Peste!</em><span>" -cried François, "it is hard to keep one's head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seizing a paper from the table, François went out of -the door, closing it after him, and coolly caressing a -cat on the step. He said to the guard that his -comrade would be out by and by, and that it was all -right. As he spoke he waved the paper, and, taking -the rope, went on, crying: "Get up, </span><em class="italics">ci-devant</em><span>!" As -they got farther away he hurried the duke. "Death -is behind us. Get on. Faster—faster!" He twisted -and turned, and was not at ease until they were deep -in the sinuous, box-hidden paths of the Luxembourg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very few people were to be seen, and these looked -at or after them with curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must be a queer party. Get on, citizen. Thou -art lazy. Thou wilt soon have a fine carriage." He -was terribly anxious. "</span><em class="italics">Sacré</em><span>, monsieur! For the -love of the saints, go on, and quicker!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce is it?" said the duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That beast at the barrier knew me. He was an -old thief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what then? Why were we not stopped if he -knew you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He does not know me nor anybody now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Foi d'honneur</em><span>, but you are a brave fellow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks; but make haste."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last they were in the long Rue de Varennes, -where they saw a great crowd filling the street, and -were soon in the midst of a mass of excited people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>François cried out: "Room, citizens, room!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An old woman shook her fist at him, yelling furiously: -"Cursed Jacobin!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The people were wild; and presently a man hustled -the supposed officer. Others cried fiercely: "Hang -him!" Another screamed out: "Robespierre is -dead!" and the crowd took up the cry. A dozen -hands seized on François.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the deuce is all this?" he shouted. "Take -care, or the law will have you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robespierre is dead! </span><em class="italics">À la lanterne!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon this, the duke exclaimed: "Let him go; it -is a good fellow, and not an officer"; and then, amid -a maddening tumult, succeeded in hastily explaining -enough to secure the release of the officer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">À bas la guillotine!</em><span>" cried François. "Down with -the Terror!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd thickened, and went its way with wild -cries. Meanwhile the boy Des Illes was lost, and -madame in tears. They went on, asking questions, -and hearing of the execution of Robespierre, Couthon, -Saint-Just, and the rest. The thief said: "Let us go -straight to M. des Illes's house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the door madame fell into her husband's arms; -and soon after dusk the boy came running back with -his father, who had gone out to search for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then all was hastily made clear, and the long story -told of Des Illes's release, and how he had found the -dog, and in the cave the Jacobins both dead, and of -his vain efforts to discover his own people. They -were fed and reclothed; and now, it being ten at night -of this 10th Thermidor, François rose. "I must go," -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You? Never!" said madame. "Our house is -your home for life. You will wander and sin no more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On this, François looked about him, from one kind -face to another, and sat down, and broke into tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It shall be as madame desires. I am her servant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this is the end of the adventures of François, -the thief. Let who will judge him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="epilogue"><span class="bold large">EPILOGUE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">Wherein is some further account of François and of -those who helped him.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In a little book which has found many friendly -readers I related a strange story of the -French Revolution.[#] In it was promised -some further account of the most remarkable -of the personages concerned. I -have now fulfilled my desire to relate the adventures -of François. The singular incidents I record are not -without foundation.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] "A Madeira Party," The Century Co., which contains a tale -called "A Little More Burgundy," to which the reader is referred.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In the story above mentioned I have told how I -chanced to meet François and those with whom he -spent his days after the stormy period during which -they first came together. My acquaintance with -M. des Illes and the old Duc de St. Maur slowly -ripened into friendship. I was a lonely student in the -Latin Quarter, and felt deeply the kindness which -never ceased insisting that their house should be to -me a home. In the summer, and often after that, I -was a guest at Des Illes's château in Touraine. There -I came to know François, as one may know a French -or an Italian servant. During these visits he acted -as my valet, serving me with admirable care, and -never better pleased than when I invited him to talk -about himself. He had long since shed his thief-skin, -but I fear that it was only the influence of fortunate -circumstances which left him without excuse to be or -to seem other than as honest as the rest of the world -about him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have known a great variety of disreputable folk -in my lifetime, but never one who had so many -winning qualities, or who was so entirely at his ease. A -scamp in the company of men of better morals -usually becomes hypocritical or appears awkwardly -aware of breathing an atmosphere to which he is -unused. François had no such difficulties. For half -a century he had been for Des Illes something -between friend and servant. His former life and habits -were well known to the few who came to his master's -house. He was comfortable, with some forty thousand -francs in the </span><em class="italics">rentes</em><span>, for his old acquaintance, the -marquis, had not forgotten his services. He had no -necessity to exercise what he still tranquilly called his -profession. Like a clever street-dog adopted by a -respectable family, though for a time uneasy, he ceased -by degrees to wander for the joy of stealing a bone, -and became contented with the better and less -perilous chances of a dinner at home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I learned from M. de St. Maur, the duke's son, that -while Mme. des Illes lived François remained the most -domestic of animals. Her death caused him a grief -so profound that for a time his master was troubled -lest his reason might suffer. She herself would never -hear a word against him. Unlike her husband, she -was a fervent Protestant, and had now and then -some vain hope of converting François. While she -lived he considered himself her special servant, but -after her death transferred his regard to young -Des Illes, the son. For many months François -pined, as I have said. He then became restless, -disappeared for a week at a time, and it is to be -feared that once, or more often, he courted -temptation. When I knew him all this was in a remote -past. At the château he usually came to my -bedroom an hour before dinner to set out my evening -dress, and was pretty sure, when this was done, to -put his head in my little salon and ask if I needed -anything. Perhaps, like M. des Illes, I might desire -a </span><em class="italics">petit verre</em><span> of vermuth for the bettering of -appetite. As I soon found what this meant, I commonly -required this sustaining aid. When by and by he -returned, carrying a neat tray with vermuth and -cognac, it came to be understood that he should be -led into talk of himself over the little glass, which -would, I am sure, have paid toll before it got back -to the buffet. Pretty soon I got into the way of -making him sit down, while I drew from by no means -unwilling lips certain odd stories which much amused -me. With an English or Irish servant such familiar -intercourse would have been quite impossible; but -François, who had none of the shyness of other -races, soon came to be on as easy terms with me -as he was with M. des Illes. When I asked him one -evening to tell me his own story of the famous -escape through the catacombs, he said, "But it is -long, monsieur." When I added, "Well, sit down; -I must have it," he replied simply, "As monsieur -wishes," and, taking a chair, gave me an account of -their escape, in which he drew so mirthful a picture -of the duke's embarrassments that I saw how little -of the humor of the tale M. des Illes had allowed -himself to put into his recital.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Francis's long life amid people of unblemished -character had by no means changed his views. Yes, -he had been a thief; but now he was out of business. -He had retired, just as M. des Illes had done, there -being no longer any cause why he should relieve his -own necessity by lessening the luxury of others; -monsieur might feel quite secure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for politics, he was all for the Bonapartes, who, -he said, were magnificent thieves, whereas he had -never been able to rise to the very highest level of -his business. M. des Illes objected, and the last time -he had indulged himself in a prolonged absence—monsieur -would comprehend that this was many -years ago—there had been a serious quarrel; and -how could he annoy so good a master, even though -they disagreed as to matters political? If monsieur -were still curious as to his life, he had a few pages in -which he had set down certain things worth -remembering, and would monsieur like to see them? -Monsieur would very much like to read them. Thus -came into my possession this astonishing bit of -autobiography, which at last I had leave to copy. It was -oddly written, in a clear hand, and in a quaint and -abrupt style, from which, in my use of it, I have -generally departed, but of which I fear some traces -may yet be seen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two evenings later, and before I had found leisure -to read all of it, François said to me, "Does monsieur -think to give my poor little account to the world?" I -said I did not. At this I saw his very expressive -face assume a look which I took to mean some form -of regret. As he spoke he was standing in the -doorway, and was now and then mechanically passing a -brush over my dress-coat. Presently he said: "I -only desired not to have set forth in France, when I -am gone, such things as might give concern to M. des -Illes, or trouble him if he should outlive me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I replied that it should never be published; and -when, after this, he lingered, I added, "Is that as -you desire?" It was not. His vanity was simple -and childlike, but immense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur will find it entertaining," he said; and -I, that this was sure to be the case, and that it were -a pity the world should lose so valuable a work. -At this his lean face lighted up. Perhaps in English -it might some day be of interest to monsieur's -friends; and as he understood that the English were -given to stealing whole countries belonging to feeble -folks, it might seem to them less unusual than it -would to people like those of France. But monsieur -was not English. He asked my pardon. I kept a -grave face, and inquired if it were a treatise on the -art of theft.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This embarrassed him a little, and he made answer -indirectly: did monsieur entirely disapprove this -form of transfer? He seemed to regard it as merely -a manner of commercial transaction by which one -man alone profited. I returned that as to this -nations held diverse opinions, and that some Oriental -people considered it a creditable pursuit, but that -personally it did seem to me wrong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>M. des Illes was distinctly of that opinion; but, -after all, his (François's) account of what he had seen -and been was not limited to mere details of business, -and I might discover his adventures to have other -interest. When he heard at last that some day I -might, through his writings, enlighten the nations -outside of the pale of Gallic civilization, he went -away with the satisfied air of a young author who -has found a publisher with a just appreciation of his -labors—a thing both rare and consolatory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His personal history, as I have said, was well -known to the entire household; nor did he resent -a jest now and then as to his disused art, if it came -from one of a rank above his own. The old duke -would say, "Any luck of late in snuff-boxes, -François?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"M. le Duc knows they are out of fashion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Eh bien</em><span>; then handkerchiefs?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Diable!</em><span>" says François. "They are no more of -lace; what use to steal them? M. le Duc knows that -gentlemen are also out of fashion. M. le Bourgeois -is too careful nowadays."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True," says the duke, and walks away, sadly reflective.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This François was what people call a character. -He had a great heart and no conscience; was fond of -flowers, of birds, and of children; pleased to chat of -his pilferings, liking the fun of the astonishment he -thus caused. Had he really no belief in its being -wrong to steal? I do not know. The fellow was so -humorous that he sometimes left one puzzled and -uncertain. He went duly to mass and confession, -but—"</span><em class="italics">Mon Dieu</em><span>, monsieur; nowadays one has so -little to confess, M. le Curé must find it dull."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I would know his true ethics as to thine and -mine, he cried, laughing, "</span><em class="italics">Le mien et le tien</em><span>; 't is but -a letter makes the difference, and, after all, one must -live." It seemed a simple character, but there is no -such thing; all human nature is more complex than -they who write choose to think it. If character were -such as the writer of fiction often makes it, the world -would be a queer place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He is dead long ago, this same François, as my old -friend Des Illes wrote me a few years later. He was -very fond of a parrot he had taught to cry, "</span><em class="italics">Vive -Bonaparte!</em><span>" whenever the aged duke came by his -perch. One morning Poll was stolen by some adroit -purveyor of parrots. This loss François felt deeply, -and vastly resented the theft,—in fact, he described -himself as being humbled by the power of any one -to steal from a man bred up to the business,—and so -missed his feathered companion that for the first time -he became depressed, and at last took to his bed. He -died quietly a few weeks after, saying to the priest -who had given him the final rites of the church: -"M. le Curé—the gold snuff-box the duke gave -you—" "Well, my son?" "The left-hand pocket is -the safer; we look not there." Then, half wandering, -he cried: "Adieu, Master Time! Thou art the best -thief, after all"; and so died, holding Des Illes's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I learned from the duke and his son, as well as -from M. des Illes, many more facts as to François -than he himself recorded; the good old Curé Le -Grand, who was a great friend of mine, also -contributed some queer incidents of François's life; and -thus it was that, when years had gone by, and I -became dependent on my pen, I found myself able to -write fully of this interesting product of Parisian life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After considering the material in my possession, I -soon discovered that it would not answer my purpose -to let François's broken memoirs tell his story. There -were names and circumstances in them which it were -still unwise to print. Much of what I may call the -scenery of his somewhat dramatic adventures was -supplied by the singular knowledge of the Revolution -which the curé delighted to furnish. The good -priest was by far the most aged of this group, and -yet to the last the most clear as to memories of a -tragic past. Thus it came that I was led to write -my story of François in the third person, with such -enlightening aid as I obtained from those who knew -him better than I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In his defense I may be permitted to quote the -curé's cautiously worded opinion:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, monsieur, no man knows another, and every -man is ever another to himself. For you François is -a thief, strangely proud of an exceptional career and -of his victories over the precautions of those from -whom he stole. Is it not so, monsieur?" I said it -was. "But the </span><em class="italics">bon Dieu</em><span> alone knows all of a man. -I was not a priest until after the great wars. God -pardon me, but I like still to tell tales of Jena and -Austerlitz, and of what we did in those days of -victory. To kill men! The idea now fills me with -horror, and yet I like nothing better, as monsieur well -knows, than to talk of those days of battle. And -François—'t is much the same. How could one live -with these dear people, and get no lesson from their -lives? Our gay, merry-minded François loved to -surprise the staid folks who came hither to visit us; -but I know that—ah, well, well, priests know many -things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thanked him, but still had doubts as to whether -the moral code of our friend François was ever -materially altered by precept, example, or by the lack -of necessity to carry on his interesting branch of -industry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before telling his story I like to let him say for -himself the only apologetic words I could discover in -this memoir:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no wish to write my whole life. I want to -put down some things I saw and some scenes in which -I was an actor. I am now old. I suppose, from what -I am told, that I was wicked when I was young. But -if one cannot see that he was a sinner, what then? -The good God who made me knows that I was but a -little Ishmaelite cast adrift on the streets to feed as -I might. I defend not myself. I blame not the -chances of life, nor yet the education which fate gave -me. It was made to tempt one in need of food and -shelter. 'T is a great thing to be able to laugh easily -and often, and this good gift I had; and so, whether -in safety or in peril, whether homeless or housed, I -have gone through life merry. I had thought more, -says M. le Curé, had I been less light of heart. But -thus was I made, and, after all, it has its good side. -I have always liked better the sun than the shadow; -and as to relieving my wants, are the birds thieves?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I noticed on the margins of François's memoirs -remarks in a neat female handwriting, which he told -me were made by Mme. des Illes, who alone had read -his story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the end I found written: "If ever another -should read what is set down in these pages, let them -have the comment of charity. He who wrote them -was by nature gifted with affection, good sense, and -courage. He had many delicacies of character, but -that of which nature meant to make a gentleman -and a man of refinement, desertion and evil fortune -made a thief and a reprobate. She who wrote this -knew him as no one else did, and, with God's help, -drew him out of the slough of crime and into a long -life of honest ways. CLAIRE DES ILLES."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE ADVENTURES OF FRANÇOIS</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43241"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43241</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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