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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5090-8.txt b/5090-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c88549b --- /dev/null +++ b/5090-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8621 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of I Will Repay, by Baroness Emmuska Orczy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: I Will Repay + +Author: Baroness Emmuska Orczy + +Posting Date: October 4, 2011 [EBook #5090] +Release Date: February, 2004 +[Last updated: July 20, 2014] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I WILL REPAY *** + + + + +Produced by Walter Debeuf, Project Gutenberg volunteer. + + + + + +I Will Repay. + +By Baroness Orczy. + + + + +PROLOGUE. + + +I + +Paris: 1783. + + +"Coward! Coward! Coward!" + +The words rang out, clear, strident, passionate, in a crescendo of +agonised humiliation. + +The boy, quivering with rage, had sprung to his feet, and, losing his +balance, he fell forward clutching at the table, whilst with a +convulsive movement of the lids, he tried in vain to suppress the tears +of shame which were blinding him. + +"Coward!" He tried to shout the insult so that all might hear, but his +parched throat refused him service, his trembling hand sought the +scattered cards upon the table, he collected them together, quickly, +nervously, fingering them with feverish energy, then he hurled them at +the man opposite, whilst with a final effort he still contrived to +mutter: "Coward!" + +The older men tried to interpose, but the young ones only laughed, quite +prepared for the adventure which must inevitably ensue, the only +possible ending to a quarrel such as this. + +Conciliation or arbitration was out of the question. Déroulède should +have known better than to speak disrespectfully of Adèle de Montchéri, +when the little Vicomte de Marny's infatuation for the notorious beauty +had been the talk of Paris and Versailles these many months past. + +Adèle was very lovely and a veritable tower of greed and egotism. The +Marnys were rich and the little Vicomte very young, and just now the +brightly-plumaged hawk was busy plucking the latest pigeon, newly +arrived from its ancestral cote. + +The boy was still in the initial stage of his infatuation. To him Adèle +was a paragon of all the virtues, and he would have done battle on her +behalf against the entire aristocracy of France, in a vain endeavour to +justify his own exalted opinion of one of the most dissolute women of +the epoch. He was a first-rate swordsman too, and his friends had +already learned that it was best to avoid all allusions to Adèle's +beauty and weaknesses. + +But Déroulède was a noted blunderer. He was little versed in the manners +and tones of that high society in which, somehow, he still seemed an +intruder. But for his great wealth, no doubt, he never would have been +admitted within the intimate circle of aristocratic France. His ancestry +was somewhat doubtful and his coat-of-arms unadorned with quarterings. + +But little was known of his family or the origin of its wealth; it was +only known that his father had suddenly become the late King's dearest +friend, and commonly surmised that Déroulède gold had on more than one +occasion filled the emptied coffers of the First Gentleman of France. + +Déroulède had not sought the present quarrel. He had merely blundered in +that clumsy way of his, which was no doubt a part of the inheritance +bequeathed to him by his bourgeois ancestry. + +He knew nothing of the little Vicomte's private affairs, still less of +his relationship with Adèle, but he knew enough of the world and enough +of Paris to be acquainted with the lady's reputation. He hated at all +times to speak of women. He was not what in those days would be termed a +ladies' man, and was even somewhat unpopular with the sex. But in this +instance the conversation had drifted in that direction, and when +Adèle's name was mentioned, every one became silent, save the little +Vicomte, who waxed enthusiastic. + +A shrug of the shoulders on Déroulède's part had aroused the boy's ire, +then a few casual words, and, without further warning, the insult had +been hurled and the cards thrown in the older man's face. + +Déroulède did not move from his seat. He sat erect and placid, one knee +crossed over the other, his serious, rather swarthy face perhaps a shade +paler than usual: otherwise it seemed as if the insult had never reached +his ears, or the cards struck his cheek. + +He had perceived his blunder, just twenty seconds too late. Now he was +sorry for the boy and angered with himself, but it was too late to draw +back. To avoid a conflict he would at this moment have sacrificed half +his fortune, but not one particle of his dignity. + +He knew and respected the old Duc de Marny, a feeble old man now, almost +a dotard whose hitherto spotless _blason_, the young Vicomte, his son, +was doing his best to besmirch. + +When the boy fell forward, blind and drunk with rage, Déroulède leant +towards him automatically, quite kindly, and helped him to his feet. He +would have asked the lad's pardon for his own thoughtlessness, had that +been possible: but the stilted code of so-called honour forbade so +logical a proceeding. It would have done no good, and could but imperil +his own reputation without averting the traditional sequel. + +The panelled walls of the celebrated gaming saloon had often witnessed +scenes such as this. All those present acted by routine. The etiquette +of duelling prescribed certain formalities, and these were strictly but +rapidly adhered to. + +The young Vicomte was quickly surrounded by a close circle of friends. +His great name, his wealth, his father's influence, had opened for him +every door in Versailles and Paris. At this moment he might have had an +army of seconds to support him in the coming conflict. + +Déroulède for a while was left alone near the card table, where the +unsnuffed candles began smouldering in their sockets. He had risen to +his feet, somewhat bewildered at the rapid turn of events. His dark, +restless eyes wandered for a moment round the room, as if in quick +search for a friend. + +But where the Vicomte was at home by right, Déroulède had only been +admitted by reason of his wealth. His acquaintances and sycophants were +many, but his friends very few. + +For the first time this fact was brought home to him. Every one in the +room must have known and realised that he had not wilfully sought this +quarrel, that throughout he had borne himself as any gentleman would, +yet now, when the issue was so close at hand, no one came forward to +stand by him. + +"For form's sake, monsieur, will you choose your seconds?" + +It was the young Marquis de Villefranche who spoke, a little haughtily, +with a certain ironical condescension towards the rich parvenu, who was +about to have the honour of crossing swords with one of the noblest +gentlemen in France. + +"I pray you, Monsieur le Marquis," rejoined Déroulède coldly, "to make +the choice for me. You see, I have few friends in Paris." + +The Marquis bowed, and gracefully flourished his lace handkerchief. He +was accustomed to being appealed to in all matters pertaining to +etiquette, to the toilet, to the latest cut in coats, and the procedure +in duels. Good-natured, foppish, and idle, he felt quite happy and in +his element thus to be made chief organiser of the tragic farce, about +to be enacted on the parquet floor of the gaming saloon. + +He looked about the room for a while, scrutinising the faces of those +around him. The gilded youth was crowding round De Marny; a few older +men stood in a group at the farther end of the room: to these the +Marquis turned, and addressing one of them, an elderly man with a +military bearing and a shabby brown coat: + +"Mon Colonel," he said, with another flourishing bow; "I am deputed by +M. Déroulède to provide him with seconds for this affair of honour, may +I call upon you to ..." + +"Certainly, certainly," replied the Colonel. "I am not intimately +acquainted with M. Déroulède, but since you stand sponsor, M. le Marquis +..." + +"Oh!" rejoined the Marquis, lightly, "a mere matter of form, you know. +M. Déroulède belongs to the entourage of Her Majesty. He is a man of +honour. But I am not his sponsor. Marny is my friend, and if you prefer +not to ..." + +"Indeed I am entirely at M. Déroulède's service," said the Colonel, who +had thrown a quick, scrutinising glance at the isolated figure near the +card table, "if he will accept my services ..." + +"He will be very glad to accept, my dear Colonel," whispered the Marquis +with an ironical twist of his aristocratic lips. "He has no friends in +our set, and if you and De Quettare will honour him, I think he should +be grateful." + +M. de Quettare, adjutant to M. le Colonel, was ready to follow in the +footsteps of his chief, and the two men, after the prescribed +salutations to M. le Marquis de Villefranche, went across to speak to +Déroulède. + +"If you will accept our services, monsieur," began the Colonel abruptly, +"mine, and my adjutant's, M. de Quettare, we place ourselves entirely at +your disposal." + +"I thank you, messieurs," rejoined Déroulède. "The whole thing is a +farce, and that young man is a fool; but I have been in the wrong and +..." + +"You would wish to apologise?" queried the Colonel icily. + +The worthy soldier had heard something of Déroulède's reputed bourgeois +ancestry. This suggestion of an apology was no doubt in accordance with +the customs of the middle-classes, but the Colonel literally gasped at +the unworthiness of the proceeding. An apology? Bah! Disgusting! +cowardly! beneath the dignity of any gentleman, however wrong he might +be. How could two soldiers of His Majesty's army identify themselves +with such doings? + +But Déroulède seemed unconscious of the enormity of his suggestion. + +"If I could avoid a conflict," he said, "I would tell the Vicomte that I +had no knowledge of his admiration for the lady we were discussing and +..." + +"Are you so very much afraid of getting a sword scratch, monsieur?" +interrupted the Colonel impatiently, whilst M. de Quettare elevated a +pair of aristocratic eyebrows in bewilderment at such an extraordinary +display of bourgeois cowardice. + +"You mean, Monsieur le Colonel?"--queried Déroulède. + +"That you must either fight the Vicomte de Marny to-night, or clear out +of Paris to-morrow. Your position in our set would become untenable," +retorted the Colonel, not unkindly, for in spite of Déroulède's +extraordinary attitude, there was nothing in his bearing or his +appearance that suggested cowardice or fear. + +"I bow to your superior knowledge of your friends, M. le Colonel," +responded Déroulède, as he silently drew his sword from its sheath. + +The centre of the saloon was quickly cleared. The seconds measured the +length of the swords and then stood behind the antagonists, slightly in +advance of the groups of spectators, who stood massed all round the +room. + +They represented the flower of what France had of the best and noblest +in name, in lineage, in chivalry, in that year of grace 1783. The +storm-cloud which a few years hence was destined to break over their +heads, sweeping them from their palaces to the prison and the +guillotine, was only gathering very slowly in the dim horizon of +squalid, starving Paris: for the next half-dozen years they would still +dance and gamble, fight and flirt, surround a tottering throne, and +hoodwink a weak monarch. The Fates' avenging sword still rested in its +sheath; the relentless, ceaseless wheel still bore them up in their +whirl of pleasure; the downward movement had only just begun: the cry of +the oppressed children of France had not yet been heard above the din of +dance music and lovers' serenades. + +The young Duc de Châteaudun was there, he who, nine years later, went to +the guillotine on that cold September morning, his hair dressed in the +latest fashion, the finest Mechlin lace around his wrists, playing a +final game of piquet with his younger brother, as the tumbril bore them +along through the hooting, yelling crowd of the half-naked starvelings +of Paris. + +There was the Vicomte de Mirepoix, who, a few years later, standing on +the platform of the guillotine, laid a bet with M. de Miranges that his +own blood would flow bluer than that of any other head cut off that day +in France. Citizen Samson heard the bet made, and when De Mirepoix's +head fell into the basket, the headsman lifted it up for M. de Miranges +to see. The latter laughed. + +"Mirepoix was always a braggart," he said lightly, as he laid his head +upon the block. + +"Who'll take my bet that my blood turns out to be bluer than his?" + +But of all these comedies, these tragico-farces of later years, none who +were present on that night, when the Vicomte de Marny fought Paul +Déroulède, had as yet any presentiment. + +They watched the two men fighting, with the same casual interest, at +first, which they would have bestowed on the dancing of a new movement +in the minuet. + +De Marny came of a race that had wielded the sword of many centuries, +but he was hot, excited, not a little addled with wine and rage. +Déroulède was lucky; he would come out of the affair with a slight +scratch. + +A good swordsman too, that wealthy parvenu. It was interesting to watch +his sword-play: very quiet at first, no feint or parry, scarcely a +riposte, only _en garde,_ always _en garde_ very carefully, steadily, +ready for his antagonist at every turn and in every circumstance. + +Gradually the circle round the combatants narrowed. A few discreet +exclamations of admiration greeted Déroulède's most successful parry. De +Marny was getting more and more excited, the older man more and more +sober and reserved. + +A thoughtless lunge placed the little Vicomte at his opponent's mercy. +The next instant he was disarmed, and the seconds were pressing forward +to end the conflict. + +Honour was satisfied: the parvenu and the scion of the ancient race had +crossed swords over the reputation of one of the most dissolute women in +France. Déroulède's moderation was a lesson to all the hot-headed young +bloods who toyed with their lives, their honour, their reputation as +lightly as they did with their lace-edged handkerchiefs and gold +snuff-boxes. + +Already Déroulède had drawn back. With the gentle tact peculiar to +kindly people, he avoided looking at his disarmed antagonist. But +something in the older man's attitude seemed to further nettle the +over-stimulated sensibility of the young Vicomte. + +"This is no child's play, monsieur," he said excitedly. "I demand full +satisfaction." + +"And are you not satisfied?" queried Déroulède. "You have borne yourself +bravely, you have fought in honour of your liege lady. I, on the other +hand ..." + +"You," shouted the boy hoarsely, "you shall publicly apologise to a +noble and virtuous woman whom you have outraged--now--at--once--on your +knees ..." + +"You are mad, Vicomte," rejoined Déroulède coldly. "I am willing to ask +your forgiveness for my blunder ..." + +"An apology--in public--on your knees ..." + +The boy had become more and more excited. He had suffered humiliation +after humiliation. He was a mere lad, spoilt, adulated, pampered from +his boyhood: the wine had got into his head, the intoxication of rage +and hatred blinded his saner judgment. + +"Coward!" he shouted again and again. + +His seconds tried to interpose, but he waved them feverishly aside. He +would listen to no one. He saw no one save the man who had insulted +Adèle, and who was heaping further insults upon her, by refusing this +public acknowledgment of her virtues. + +De Marny hated Déroulède at this moment with the most deadly hatred the +heart of man can conceive. The older man's calm, his chivalry, his +consideration only enhanced the boy's anger and shame. + +The hubbub had become general. Everyone seemed carried away with this +strange fever of enmity, which was seething in the Vicomte's veins. Most +of the young men crowded round De Marny, doing their best to pacify him. +The Marquis de Villefranche declared that the matter was getting quite +outside the rules. + +No one took much notice of Déroulède. In the remote corners of the +saloon a few elderly dandies were laying bets as to the ultimate issue +of the quarrel. + +Déroulède, however, was beginning to lose his temper. He had no friends +in that room, and therefore there was no sympathetic observer there, to +note the gradual darkening of his eyes, like the gathering of a cloud +heavy with the coming storm. + +"I pray you, messieurs, let us cease the argument," he said at last, in +a loud, impatient voice. "M. le Vicomte de Marny desires a further +lesson, and, by God! he shall have it. En garde, M. le Vicomte!" + +The crowd quickly drew back. The seconds once more assumed the bearing +and imperturbable expression which their important function demanded. +The hubbub ceased as the swords began to clash. + +Everyone felt that farce was turning to tragedy. + +And yet it was obvious from the first that Déroulède merely meant once +more to disarm his antagonist, to give him one more lesson, a little +more severe perhaps than the last. He was such a brilliant swordsman, and +De Marny was so excited, that the advantage was with him from the very +first. + +How it all happened, nobody afterwards could say. There is no doubt that +the little Vicomte's sword-play had become more and more wild: that he +uncovered himself in the most reckless way, whilst lunging wildly at his +opponent's breast, until at last, in one of these mad, unguarded +moments, he seemed literally to throw himself upon Déroulède's weapon. + +The latter tried with lightning-swift motion of the wrist to avoid the +fatal issue, but it was too late, and without a sigh or groan, scarce a +tremor, the Vicomte de Marny fell. + +The sword dropped out of his hand, and it was Déroulède himself who +caught the boy in his arms. + +It had all occurred so quickly and suddenly that no one had realised it +all, until it was over, and the lad was lying prone on the ground, his +elegant blue satin coat stained with red, and his antagonist bending +over him. + +There was nothing more to be done. Etiquette demanded that Déroulède +should withdraw. He was not allowed to do anything for the boy whom he +had so unwillingly sent to his death. + +As before, no one took much notice of him. Silence, the awesome silence +caused by the presence of the great Master, fell upon all those around. +Only in the far corner a shrill voice was heard to say: + +"I hold you at five hundred louis, Marquis. The parvenu is a good +swordsman." + +The groups parted as Déroulède walked out of the room, followed by the +Colonel and M. de Quettare, who stood by him to the last. Both were old +and proved soldiers, both had chivalry and courage in them, with which +to do tribute to the brave man whom they had seconded. + +At the door of the establishment, they met the leech who had been +summoned some little time ago to hold himself in readiness for any +eventuality. + +The great eventuality had occurred: it was beyond the leech's learning. +In the brilliantly lighted saloon above, the only son of the Duc de +Marny was breathing his last, whilst Déroulède, wrapping his mantle +closely round him, strode out into the dark street, all alone. + + +II + +The head of the house of Marny was at this time barely seventy years of +age. But he had lived every hour, every minute of his life, from the day +when the Grand Monarque gave him his first appointment as gentleman page +in waiting when he was a mere lad, barely twelve years of age, to the +moment--some ten years ago now--when Nature's relentless hand struck him +down in the midst of his pleasures, withered him in a flash as she does +a sturdy old oak, and nailed him--a cripple, almost a dotard--to the +invalid chair which he would only quit for his last resting place. + +Juliette was then a mere slip of a girl, an old man's child, the spoilt +darling of his last happy years. She had retained some of the melancholy +which had characterised her mother, the gentle lady who had endured so +much so patiently, and who had bequeathed this final tender burden--her +baby girl--to the brilliant, handsome husband whom she had so deeply +loved, and so often forgiven. + +When the Duc de Marny entered the final awesome stage of his gilded +career, that deathlike life which he dragged on for ten years wearily to +the grave, Juliette became his only joy, his one gleam of happiness in +the midst of torturing memories. + +In her deep, tender eyes he would see mirrored the present, the future +for her, and would forget his past, with all its gaieties, its mad, +merry years, that meant nothing now but bitter regrets, and endless +rosary of the might-have-beens. + +And then there was the boy. The little Vicomte, the future Duc de Marny, +who would in _his_ life and with _his_ youth recreate the glory of the +family, and make France once more ring with the echo of brave deeds and +gallant adventures, which had made the name of Marny so glorious in camp +and court. + +The Vicomte was not his father's love, but he was his father's pride, +and from the depths of his huge, cushioned arm-chair, the old man would +listen with delight to stories from Versailles and Paris, the young +Queen and the fascinating Lamballe, the latest play and the newest star +in the theatrical firmament. His feeble, tottering mind would then take +him back, along the paths of memory, to his own youth and his own +triumphs, and in the joy and pride in his son, he would forget himself +for the sake of the boy. + +When they brought the Vicomte home that night, Juliette was the first to +wake. She heard the noise outside the great gates, the coach slowly +drawing up, the ring for the doorkeeper, and the sound of Matthieu's +mutterings, who never liked to be called up in the middle of the night +to let anyone through the gates. + +Somehow a presentiment of evil at once struck the young girl: the +footsteps sounded so heavy and muffled along the flagged courtyard, and +up the great oak staircase. It seemed as if they were carrying something +heavy, something inert or dead. + +She jumped out of bed and hastily wrapped a cloak round her thin girlish +shoulders, and slipped her feet into a pair of heelless shoes, then she +opened her bedroom door and looked out upon the landing. + +Two men, whom she did not know, were walking upstairs abreast, two more +were carrying a heavy burden, and Matthieu was behind moaning and crying +bitterly. + +Juliette did not move. She stood in the doorway rigid as a statue. The +little cortège went past her. No one saw her, for the landings in the +Hotel de Marny are very wide, and Matthieu's lantern only threw a dim, +flickering light upon the floor. + +The men stopped outside the Vicomte's room. Matthieu opened it, and then +the five men disappeared within, with their heavy burden. + +A moment later old Pétronelle, who had been Juliette's nurse, and was +now her devoted slave, came to her, all bathed in tears. + +She had just heard the news, and she could scarcely speak, but she +folded the young girl, her dear pet lamb, in her arms, and rocking +herself to and fro she sobbed and eased her aching, motherly heart. + +But Juliette did not cry. It was all so sudden, so awful. She, at +fourteen years of age, had never dreamed of death; and now there was her +brother, her Philippe, in whom she had so much joy, so much pride--he +was dead--and her father must be told ... + +The awfulness of this task seemed to Juliette like unto the last +Judgment Day; a thing so terrible, so appalling, so impossible, that it +would take a host of angels to proclaim its inevitableness. + +The old cripple, with one foot in the grave, whose whole feeble mind, +whose pride, whose final flicker of hope was concentrated in his boy, +must be told that the lad had been brought home dead. + +"Will you tell him, Pétronelle?" she asked repeatedly, during the brief +intervals when the violence of the old nurse's grief subsided somewhat. + +"No--no--darling, I cannot--I cannot--" moaned Pétronelle, amidst a +renewed shower of sobs. + +Juliette's entire soul--a child's soul it was--rose in revolt at thought +of what was before her. She felt angered with God for having put such a +thing upon her. What right had He to demand a girl of her years to +endure so much mental agony? + +To lose her brother, and to witness her father's grief! She couldn't! +she couldn't! she couldn't! God was evil and unjust! + +A distant tinkle of a bell made all her nerves suddenly quiver. Her +father was awake then? He had heard the noise, and was ringing his bell +to ask for an explanation of the disturbance. + +With one quick movement Juliette jerked herself free from the nurse's +arms, and before Pétronelle could prevent her, she had run out of the +room, straight across the dark landing to a large panelled door +opposite. + +The old Duc de Marny was sitting on the edge of his bed, with his long, +thin legs dangling helplessly to the ground. + +Crippled as he was, he had struggled to this upright position, he was +making frantic, miserable efforts to raise himself still further. He, +too, had heard the dull thud of feet, the shuffling gait of men when +carrying a heavy burden. + +His mind flew back half-a-century, to the days when he had witnessed +scenes wherein he was then merely a half-interested spectator. He knew +the cortège composed of valets and friends, with the leech walking +beside that precious burden, which anon would be deposited on the bed +and left to the tender care of a mourning family. + +Who knows what pictures were conjured up before that enfeebled vision? +But he guessed. And when Juliette dashed into his room and stood before +him, pale, trembling, a world of misery in her great eyes, she knew that +he guessed and that she need not tell him. God had already done that for +her. + +Pierre, the old Duc's devoted valet, dressed him as quickly as he could. +M. le Duc insisted on having his _habit de cérémonie,_ the rich suit of +black velvet with the priceless lace and diamond buttons, which he had +worn when they laid le Roi Soleil to his eternal rest. + +He put on his orders and buckled on his sword. The gorgeous clothes, +which had suited him so well in the prime of his manhood, hung somewhat +loosely on his attenuated frame, but he looked a grand and imposing +figure, with his white hair tied behind with a great black bow, and the +fine jabot of beautiful point d'Angleterre falling in a soft cascade +below his chin. + +Then holding himself as upright as he could, he sat in his invalid +chair, and four flunkeys in full livery carried him to the deathbed of +his son. + +All the house was astir by now. Torches burned in great sockets in the +vast hall and along the massive oak stairway, and hundreds of candles +flickered ghostlike in the vast apartments of the princely mansion. + +The numerous servants were arrayed on the landing, all dressed in the +rich livery of the ducal house. + +The death of an heir of the Marnys is an event that history makes a note +of. + +The old Duc's chair was placed close to the bed, where lay the dead body +of the young Vicomte. He made no movement, nor did he utter a word or +sigh. Some of those who were present at the time declared that his mind +had completely given way, and that he neither felt nor understood the +death of his son. + +The Marquis de Villefranche, who had followed his friend to the last, +took a final leave of the sorrowing house. + +Juliette scarcely noticed him. Her eyes were fixed on her father. She +would not look at her brother. A childlike fear had seized her, there, +suddenly, between these two silent figures: the living and the dead. + +But just as the Marquis was leaving the room, the old man spoke for the +first time. + +"Marquis," he said very quietly, "you forget--you have not yet told me +who killed my son." + +"It was in a fair fight, M. de Duc," replied the young Marquis, awed in +spite of all his frivolity, his light-heartedness, by this strange, +almost mysterious tragedy. + +"Who killed my son, M. le Marquis?" repeated the old man mechanically. +"I have the right to know," he added with sudden, weird energy. + +"It was M. Paul Déroulède, M. le Duc," replied the Marquis. "I repeat, +it was in fair fight." + +The old Duc sighed as if in satisfaction. Then with a courteous gesture +of farewell reminiscent of the _grand siècle_ he added: + +"All thanks from me and mine to you, Marquis, would seem but a mockery. +Your devotion to my son is beyond human thanks. I'll not detain you now. +Farewell." + +Escorted by two lacqueys, the Marquis passed out of the room. + +"Dismiss all the servants, Juliette; I have something to say," said the +old Duc, and the young girl, silent, obedient, did as her father bade +her. + +Father and sister were alone with their dead. As soon as the last hushed +footsteps of the retreating servants died away in the distance, the Duc +de Marny seemed to throw away the lethargy which had enveloped him until +now. With a quick, feverish gesture he seized his daughter's wrist, and +murmured excitedly: + +"His name. You heard his name, Juliette?" + +"Yes, father," replied the child. + +"Paul Déroulède! Paul Déroulède! You'll not forget it?" + +"Never, father!" + +"He killed your brother! You understand that? Killed my only son, the +hope of my house, the last descendant of the most glorious race that has +ever added lustre to the history of France." + +"In fair fight, father!" protested the child. + +"'Tis not fair for a man to kill a boy," retorted the old man, with +furious energy. + +"Déroulède is thirty: my boy was scarce out of his teens: may the +vengeance of God fall upon the murderer!" + +Juliette, awed, terrified, was gazing at her father with great, +wondering eyes. He seemed unlike himself. His face wore a curious +expression of ecstasy and of hatred, also of hope and exultation, +whenever he looked steadily at her. + +That the final glimmer of a tottering reason was fast leaving the poor, +aching head she was too young to realise. Madness was a word that had +only a vague meaning for her. Though she did not understand her father +at the present moment, though she was half afraid of him, she would have +rejected with scorn and horror any suggestion that he was mad. + +Therefore when he took her hand and, drawing her nearer to the bed and +to himself, placed it upon her dead brother's breast, she recoiled at +the touch of the inanimate body, so unlike anything she had ever touched +before, but she obeyed her father without any question, and listened to +his words as to those of a sage. + +"Juliette, you are now fourteen, and able to understand what I am going +to ask of you. If I were not chained to this miserable chair, if I were +not a hopeless, abject cripple, I would not depute anyone, not even you, +my only child, to do that, which God demands that one of us should do." + +He paused a moment, then continued earnestly: + +"Remember, Juliette, that you are of the house of Marny, that you are a +Catholic, and that God hears you now. For you shall swear an oath before +Him and me, an oath from which only death can relieve you. Will you +swear, my child?" + +"If you wish it, father." + +"You have been to confession lately, Juliette?" + +"Yes, father; also to holy communion, yesterday," replied the child. "It +was the Fête-Dieu, you know." + +"Then you are in a state of grace, my child?" + +"I was yesterday morning, father," replied the young girl naïvely, "but +I have committed some little sins since then." + +"Then make your confession to God in your heart now. You must be in a +state of grace when you speak the oath." + +The child closed her eyes, and as the old man watched her, he could see +the lips framing the words of her spiritual confession. + +Juliette made the sign of the cross, then opened her eyes and looked at +her father. + +"I am ready, father," she said; "I hope God has forgiven me the little +sins of yesterday." + +"Will you swear, my child?" + +"What, father?" + +"That you will avenge your brother's death on his murderer?" + +"But, father ..." + +"Swear it, my child!" + +"How can I fulfil that oath, father?--I don't understand ..." + +"God will guide you, my child. When you are older you will understand." + +For a moment Juliette still hesitated. She was just on that borderland +between childhood and womanhood when all the sensibilities, the nervous +system, the emotions, are strung to their highest pitch. + +Throughout her short life she had worshipped her father with a +whole-hearted, passionate devotion, which had completely blinded her to +his weakening faculties and the feebleness of his mind. + +She was also in that initial stage of enthusiastic piety which +overwhelms every girl of temperament, if she be brought up in the Roman +Catholic religion, when she is first initiated into the mysteries of the +Sacraments. + +Juliette had been to confession and communion. She had been confirmed by +Monseigneur, the Archbishop. Her ardent nature had responded to the full +to the sensuous and ecstatic expressions of the ancient faith. + +And somehow her father's wish, her brother's death, all seemed mingled +in her brain with that religion, for which in her juvenile enthusiasm +she would willingly have laid down her life. + +She thought of all the saints, whose lives she had been reading. Her +young heart quivered at the thought of _their_ sacrifices, their +martyrdoms, their sense of duty. + +An exaltation, morbid perhaps, superstitious and overwhelming, took +possession of her mind; also, perhaps, far back in the innermost +recesses of her heart, a pride in her own importance, her mission in +life, her individuality: for she was a girl after all, a mere child, +about to become a woman. + +But the old Duc was waxing impatient. + +"Surely you do not hesitate, Juliette, with your dead brother's body +clamouring mutely for revenge? You, the only Marny left now!--for from +this day I too shall be as dead." + +"No, father," said the young girl in an awed whisper, "I do not +hesitate. I will swear, just as you bid me." + +"Repeat the words after me, my child." + +"Yes, father." + +"Before the face of Almighty God, who sees and hears me ..." + +"Before the face of Almighty God, who sees and hears me," repeated +Juliette firmly. + +"I swear that I will seek out Paul Déroulède." + +"I swear that I will seek out Paul Déroulède." + +"And in any manner which God may dictate to me encompass his death, his +ruin or dishonour, in revenge for my brother's death." + +"And in any manner which God may dictate to me encompass his death, his +ruin or dishonour, in revenge for my brother's death," said Juliette +solemnly. + +"May my brother's soul remain in torment until the final Judgment Day if +I should break my oath, but may it rest in eternal peace the day on +which his death is fitly avenged." + +"May my brother's soul remain in torment until the final Judgment Day if +I should break my oath, but may it rest in eternal peace the day on +which his death is fitly avenged." + +The child fell upon her knees. The oath was spoken, the old man was +satisfied. + +He called for his valet, and allowed himself quietly to be put to bed. + +One brief hour had transformed a child into a woman. A dangerous +transformation when the brain is overburdened with emotions, when the +nerves are overstrung and the heart full to breaking. + +For the moment, however, the childlike nature reasserted itself for the +last time, for Juliette, sobbing, had fled out of the room, to the +privacy of her own apartment, and thrown herself passionately into the +arms of kind old Pétronelle. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +Paris: 1793 + +The outrage. + + +It would have been very difficult to say why Citizen Déroulède was quite +so popular as he was. Still more difficult would it have been to state +the reason why he remained immune from the prosecutions, which were +being conducted at the rate of several scores a day, now against the +moderate Gironde, anon against the fanatic Mountain, until the whole of +France was transformed into one gigantic prison, that daily fed the +guillotine. + +But Déroulède remained unscathed. Even Merlin's law of the suspect had +so far failed to touch him. And when, last July, the murder of Marat +brought an entire holocaust of victims to the guillotine--from Adam Lux, +who would have put up a statue in honour of Charlotte Corday, with the +inscription: "Greater than Brutus", to Charlier, who would have had her +publicly tortured and burned at the stake for her crime--Déroulède alone +said nothing, and was allowed to remain silent. + +The most seething time of that seething revolution. No one knew in the +morning if his head would still be on his own shoulders in the evening, +or if it would be held up by Citizen Samson the headsman, for the +sansculottes of Paris to see. + +Yet Déroulède was allowed to go his own way. Marat once said of him: "Il +n'est pas dangereux." The phrase had been taken up. Within the precincts +of the National Convention, Marat was still looked upon as the great +protagonist of Liberty, a martyr to his own convictions carried to the +extreme, to squalor and dirt, to the downward levelling of man to what +is the lowest type in humanity. And his sayings were still treasured up: +even the Girondins did not dare to attack his memory. Dead Marat was +more powerful than his living presentment had been. + +And he had said that Déroulède was not dangerous. Not dangerous to +Republicanism, to liberty, to that downward, levelling process, the +tearing down of old traditions, and the annihilation of past +pretensions. + +Déroulède had once been very rich. He had had sufficient prudence to +give away in good time that which, undoubtedly, would have been taken +away from him later on. + +But when he gave willingly, at a time when France needed it most, and +before she had learned how to help herself to what she wanted. + +And somehow, in this instance, France had not forgotten: an invisible +fortress seemed to surround Citizen Déroulède and keep his enemies at +bay. They were few, but they existed. The National Convention trusted +him. "He was not dangerous" to them. The people looked upon him as one +of themselves, who gave whilst he had something to give. Who can gauge +that most elusive of all things: _Popularity?_ + +He lived a quiet life, and had never yielded to the omni-prevalent +temptation of writing pamphlets, but lived alone with his mother and +Anne Mie, the little orphaned cousin whom old Madame Déroulède had taken +care of, ever since the child could toddle. + +Everyone knew his house in the Rue Ecole de Médecine, not far from the +one wherein Marat lived and died, the only solid, stone house in the +midst of a row of hovels, evil-smelling and squalid. + +The street was narrow then, as it is now, and whilst Paris was cutting +off the heads of her children for the sake of Liberty and Fraternity, +she had no time to bother about cleanliness and sanitation. + +Rue Ecole de Médecine did little credit to the school after which it was +named, and it was a most unattractive crowd that usually thronged its +uneven, muddy pavements. + +A neat gown, a clean kerchief, were quite an unusual sight down this +way, for Anne Mie seldom went out, and old Madame Déroulède hardly ever +left her room. A good deal of brandy was being drunk at the two drinking +bars, one at each end of the long, narrow street, and by five o'clock in +the afternoon it was undoubtedly best for women to remain indoors. + +The crowd of dishevelled elderly Amazons who stood gossiping at the +street corner could hardly be called women now. A ragged petticoat, a +greasy red kerchief round the head, a tattered, stained shift--to this +pass of squalor and shame had Liberty brought the daughters of France. + +And they jeered at any passer-by less filthy, less degraded than +themselves. + +"Ah! voyons l'aristo!" they shouted every time a man in decent clothes, +a woman with tidy cap and apron, passed swiftly down the street. + +And the afternoons were very lively. There was always plenty to see: +first and foremost, the long procession of tumbrils, winding its way +from the prisons to the Place de la Révolution. The forty-four thousand +sections of the Committee of Public Safety sent their quota, each in +their turn, to the guillotine. + +At one time these tumbrils contained royal ladies and gentlemen, +_ci-devant_ dukes and princesses, aristocrats from every county in +France, but now this stock was becoming exhausted. The wretched Queen +Marie Antoinette still lingered in the Temple with her son and daughter. +Madame Elisabeth was still allowed to say her prayers in peace, but +_ci-devant_ dukes and counts were getting scarce: those who had not +perished at the hand of Citizen Samson were plying some trade in Germany +or England. + +There were aristocratic joiners, innkeepers, and hairdressers. The +proudest names in France were hidden beneath trade signs in London and +Hamburg. A good number owed their lives to that mysterious Scarlet +Pimpernel, that unknown Englishman who had snatched scores of victims +from the clutches of Tinville the Prosecutor, and sent M. Chauvelin, +baffled, back to France. + +Aristocrats were getting scarce, so it was now the turn of deputies of +the National Convention, of men of letters, men of science or of art, +men who had sent others to the guillotine a twelvemonth ago, and men who +had been loudest in defence of anarchy and its Reign of Terror. + +They had revolutionised the Calendar: the Citizen-Deputies, and every +good citizen of France, called this 19th day of August 1793 the 2nd +Fructidor of the year I. of the New Era. + +At six o'clock on that afternoon a young girl suddenly turned the angle +of the Rue Ecole de Médecine, and after looking quickly to the right and +left she began deliberately walking along the narrow street. + +It was crowded just then. Groups of excited women stood jabbering before +every doorway. It was the home-coming hour after the usual spectacle on +the Place de la Révolution. The men had paused at the various drinking +booths, crowding the women out. It would be the turn of these Amazons +next, at the brandy bars; for the moment they were left to gossip, and +to jeer at the passer-by. + +At first the young girl did not seem to heed them. She walked quickly +along, looking defiantly before her, carrying her head erect, and +stepping carefully from cobblestone to cobblestone, avoiding the mud, +which could have dirtied her dainty shoes. + +The harridans passed the time of day to her, and the time of day meant +some obscene remark unfit for women's ears. The young girl wore a simple +grey dress, with fine lawn kerchief neatly folded across her bosom, a +large hat with flowing ribbons sat above the fairest face that ever +gladdened men's eyes to see. + +Fairer still it would have been, but for the look of determination which +made it seem hard and old for the girl's years. + +She wore the tricolour scarf round her waist, else she had been more +seriously molested ere now. But the Republican colours were her +safeguard: whilst she walked quietly along, no one could harm her. + +Then suddenly a curious impulse seemed to seize her. It was just outside +the large stone house belonging to Citizen-Deputy Déroulède. She had so +far taken no notice of the groups of women which she had come across. +When they obstructed the footway, she had calmly stepped out into the +middle of the road. + +It was wise and prudent, for she could close her ears to obscene +language and need pay no heed to insult. + +Suddenly she threw up her head defiantly. + +"Will you please let me pass?" she said loudly, as a dishevelled Amazon +stood before her with arms akimbo, glancing sarcastically at the lace +petticoat, which just peeped beneath the young girl's simple grey frock. + +"Let her pass? Let her pass? Ho! ho! ho!" laughed the old woman, turning +to the nearest group of idlers, and apostrophising them with a loud +oath. "Did _you_ know, citizeness, that this street had been specially +made for aristos to pass along?" + +"I am in a hurry, will you let me pass at once?" commanded the young +girl, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground. + +There was the whole width of the street on her right, plenty of room for +her to walk along. It seemed positive madness to provoke a quarrel +singlehanded against this noisy group of excited females, just home from +the ghastly spectacle around the guillotine. + +And yet she seemed to do it wilfully, as if coming to the end of her +patience, all her proud, aristocratic blood in revolt against this +evil-smelling crowd which surrounded her. + +Half-tipsy men and noisome, naked urchins seemed to have sprung from +everywhere. + +"Oho, quelle aristo!" they shouted with ironical astonishment, gazing at +the young girl's face, fingering her gown, thrusting begrimed, +hate-distorted faces close to her own. + +Instinctively she recoiled and backed towards the house immediately on +her left. It was adorned with a porch made of stout oak beams, with a +tiled roof; an iron lantern descended from this, and there was a stone +parapet below, and a few steps, at right angles from the pavement, led +up to the massive door. + +On these steps the young girl had taken refuge. Proud, defiant, she +confronted the howling mob, which she had so wilfully provoked. + +"Of a truth, Citizeness Margot, that grey dress would become you well!" +suggested a young man, whose red cap hung in tatters over an evil and +dissolute-looking face. + +"And all that fine lace would make a splendid jabot round the aristo's +neck when Citizen Samson holds up her head for us to see," added +another, as with mock elegance he stooped and with two very grimy +fingers slightly raised the young girl's grey frock, displaying the +lace-edged petticoat beneath. + +A volley of oaths and loud, ironical laughter greeted this sally. + +"'Tis mighty fine lace to be thus hidden away," commented an elderly +harridan. "Now, would you believe it, my fine madam, but my legs are +bare underneath my kirtle?" + +"And dirty, too, I'll lay a wager," laughed another. "Soap is dear in +Paris just now." + +"The lace on the aristo's kerchief would pay the baker's bill of a whole +family for a month!" shouted an excited voice. + +Heat and brandy further addled the brains of this group of French +citizens; hatred gleamed out of every eye. Outrage was imminent. The +young girl seemed to know it, but she remained defiant and +self-possessed, gradually stepping back and back up the steps, closely +followed by her assailants. + +"To the Jew with the gewgaw, then!" shouted a thin, haggard female +viciously, as she suddenly clutched at the young girl's kerchief, and +with a mocking, triumphant laugh tore it from her bosom. + +This outrage seemed to be the signal for the breaking down of the final +barriers which ordinary decency should have raised. The language and +vituperation became such as no chronicler could record. + +The girl's dainty white neck, her clear skin, the refined contour of +shoulders and bust, seemed to have aroused the deadliest lust of hate in +these wretched creatures, rendered bestial by famine and squalor. + +It seemed almost as if one would vie with the other in seeking for words +which would most offend these small aristocratic ears. + +The young girl was now crouching against the doorway, her hands held up +to her ears to shut out the awful sounds. She did not seem frightened, +only appalled at the terrible volcano which she had provoked. + +Suddenly a miserable harridan struck her straight in the face, with +hard, grimy fist, and a long shout of exultation greeted this monstrous +deed. + +Then only did the girl seem to lose her self-control. + +"A moi," she shouted loudly, whilst hammering with both hands against +the massive doorway. "A moi! Murder! Murder! Citoyen Déroulède, à moi!" + +But her terror was greeted with renewed glee by her assailants. They +were now roused to the highest point of frenzy: the crowd of brutes +would in the next moment have torn the helpless girl from her place of +refuge and dragged her into the mire, an outraged prey, for the +satisfaction of an ungovernable hate. + +But just as half-a-dozen pairs of talon-like hands clutched frantically +at her skirts, the door behind her was quickly opened. She felt her arm +seized firmly, and herself dragged swiftly within the shelter of the +threshold. + +Her senses, overwrought by the terrible adventure which she had just +gone through, were threatening to reel; she heard the massive door +close, shutting out the yells of baffled rage, the ironical laughter, +the obscene words, which sounded in her ears like the shrieks of Dante's +damned. + +She could not see her rescuer, for the hall into which he had hastily +dragged her was only dimly lighted. But a peremptory voice said quickly: + +"Up the stairs, the room straight in front of you, my mother is there. +Go quickly." + +She had fallen on her knees, cowering against the heavy oak beam which +supported the ceiling, and was straining her eyes to catch sight of the +man, to whom at this moment she perhaps owed more than her life: but he +was standing against the doorway, with his hand on the latch. + +"What are you going to do?" she murmured. + +"Prevent their breaking into my house in order to drag you out of it," +he replied quietly; "so, I pray you, do as I bid you." + +Mechanically she obeyed him, drew herself to her feet, and, turning +towards the stairs, began slowly to mount the shallow steps. Her knees +were shaking under her, her whole body was trembling with horror at the +awesome crisis she had just traversed. + +She dared not look back at her rescuer. Her head was bent, and her lips +were murmuring half-audible words as she went. + +Outside the hooting and yelling was becoming louder and louder. Enraged +fists were hammering violently against the stout oak door. + +At the top of the stairs, moved by an irresistible impulse, she turned +and looked into the hall. + +She saw his figure dimly outlined in the gloom, one hand on the latch, +his head thrown back to watch her movements. + +A door stood ajar immediately in front of her. She pushed it open and +went within. + +At that moment he too opened the door below. The shrieks of the howling +mob once more resounded close to her ears. It seemed as if they had +surrounded him. She wondered what was happening, and marvelled how he +dared to face that awful crowd alone. + +The room into which she had entered was gay and cheerful-looking with +its dainty chintz hangings and graceful, elegant pieces of furniture. +The young girl looked up, as a kindly voice said to her, from out the +depths of a capacious armchair: + +"Come in, come in, my dear, and close the door behind you! Did those +wretches attack you? Never mind. Paul will speak to them. Come here, my +dear, and sit down; there's no cause now for fear." + +Without a word the young girl came forward. She seemed now to be walking +in a dream, the chintz hangings to be swaying ghostlike around her, the +yells and shrieks below to come from the very bowels of the earth. + +The old lady continued to prattle on. She had taken the girl's hand in +hers, and was gently forcing her down on to a low stool beside her +armchair. She was talking about Paul, and said something about Anne Mie, +and then about the National Convention, and those beasts and savages, +but mostly about Paul. + +The noise outside had subsided. The girl felt strangely sick and tired. +Her head seemed to be whirling round, the furniture to be dancing round +her; the old lady's face looked at her through a swaying veil, and +then--and then ... + +Tired Nature was having her way at last; she folded the quivering young +body in her motherly arms, and wrapped the aching senses beneath her +merciful mantle of unconsciousness. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Citizen-Deputy. + + +When, presently, the young girl awoke, with a delicious feeling of rest +and well-being, she had plenty of leisure to think. + +So, then, this was his house! She was actually a guest, a rescued +protégé, beneath the roof of Citoyen Déroulède. + +He had dragged her from the clutches of the howling mob which she had +provoked; his mother had made her welcome, a sweet-faced, young girl +scarce out of her teens, sad-eyed and slightly deformed, had waited upon +her and made her happy and comfortable. + +Juliette de Marny was in the house of the man, whom she had sworn before +her God and before her father to pursue with hatred and revenge. + +Ten years had gone by since then. + +Lying upon the sweet-scented bed which the hospitality of the Déroulèdes +had provided for her, she seemed to see passing before her the spectres +of these past ten years--the first four, after her brother's death, +until the old Duc de Marny's body slowly followed his soul to its grave. + +After that last glimmer of life beside the deathbed of his son, the old +Duc had practically ceased to be. A mute, shrunken figure, he merely +existed; his mind vanished, his memory gone, a wreck whom Nature +fortunately remembered at last, and finally took away from the invalid +chair which had been his world. + +Then came those few years at the Convent of the Ursulines. Juliette had +hoped that she had a vocation; her whole soul yearned for a secluded, a +religious, life, for great barriers of solemn vows and days spent in +prayer and contemplation, to interpose between herself and the memory of +that awful night when, obedient to her father's will, she had made the +solemn oath to avenge her brother's death. + +She was only eighteen when she first entered the convent, directly after +her father's death, when she felt very lonely--both morally and mentally +lonely--and followed by the obsession of that oath. + +She never spoke of it to anyone except to her confessor, and he, a +simple-minded man of great learning and a total lack of knowledge of the +world, was completely at a loss how to advise. + +The Archbishop was consulted. He could grant a dispensation, and release +her of that most solemn vow. + +When first this idea was suggested to her, Juliette was exultant. Her +entire nature, which in itself was wholesome, light-hearted, the very +reverse of morbid, rebelled against this unnatural task placed upon her +young shoulders. It was only religion--the strange, warped religion of +that extraordinary age--which kept her to it, which forbade her breaking +lightly that most unnatural oath. + +The Archbishop was a man of many duties, many engagements. He agreed to +give this strange "cas de conscience" his most earnest attention. He +would make no promises. But Mademoiselle de Marny was rich: a munificent +donation to the poor of Paris, or to some cause dear to the Holy Father +himself, might perhaps be more acceptable to God than the fulfilment of +a compulsory vow. + +Juliette, within the convent walls, was waiting patiently for the +Archbishop's decision at the very moment, when the greatest upheaval the +world has ever known was beginning to shake the very foundations of +France. + +The Archbishop had other things now to think about than isolated cases +of conscience. He forgot all about Juliette, probably. He was busy +consoling a monarch for the loss of his throne, and preparing himself +and his royal patron for the scaffold. + +The Convent of the Ursulines was scattered during the Terror. Everyone +remembers the Thermidor massacres, and the thirty-four nuns, all +daughters of ancient families of France, who went so cheerfully to the +scaffold. + +Juliette was one of those who escaped condemnation. How or why, she +herself could not have told. She was very young, and still a postulant; +she was allowed to live in retirement with Pétronelle, her old nurse, +who had remained faithful through all these years. + +Then the Archbishop was prosecuted and imprisoned. Juliette made frantic +efforts to see him, but all in vain. When he died, she looked upon her +spiritual guide's death as a direct warning from God, that nothing could +relieve her of her oath. + +She had watched the turmoils of the Revolution through the attic window +of her tiny apartment in Paris. Waited upon by faithful Pétronelle, she +had been forced to live on the savings of that worthy old soul, as all +her property, all the Marny estates, the _dot_ she took with her to the +convent--everything, in fact--had been seized by the Revolutionary +Government, self appointed to level fortunes, as well as individuals. + +From that attic window she had seen beautiful Paris writhing under the +pitiless lash of the demon of terror which it had provoked; she had +heard the rumble of the tumbrils, dragging day after day their load of +victims to the insatiable maker of this Revolution of Fraternity--the +Guillotine. + +She had seen the gay, light-hearted people of this Star-City turned to +howling beasts of prey, its women changed to sexless vultures, with +murderous talons implanted in everything that is noble, high or +beautiful. + +She was not twenty when the feeble, vacillating monarch and his +imperious consort were dragged back--a pair of humiliated prisoners--to +the capital from which they had tried to flee. + +Two years later, she had heard the cries of an entire people exulting +over a regicide. Then the murder of Marat, by a young girl like herself, +the pale-faced, large-eyed Charlotte, who had committed a crime for the +sake of a conviction. "Greater than Brutus!" some had called her. +Greater than Joan of Arc, for it was to a mission of evil and of sin +that she was called from the depths of her Breton village, and not to +one of glory and triumph. + +"Greater than Brutus!" + +Juliette followed the trial of Charlotte Corday with all the passionate +ardour of her exalted temperament. + +Just think what an effect it must have had upon the mind of this young +girl, who for nine years--the best of her life--had also lived with the +idea of a sublime mission pervading her very soul. + +She watched Charlotte Corday at her trial. Conquering her natural +repulsion for such scenes, and the crowds which usually watched them, +she had forced her way into the foremost rank of the narrow gallery +which overlooked the Hall of the Revolutionary Tribunal. + +She heard the indictment, heard Tinville's speech and the calling of the +witnesses. + +"All this is unnecessary. I killed Marat!" + +Juliette heard the fresh young voice ringing out clearly above the +murmur of voices, the howls of execration; she saw the beautiful young +face, clear, calm, impassive. + +"I killed Marat!" + +And there in the special space allotted to the Citizen-Deputies, sitting +among those who represented the party of the Moderate Gironde, was Paul +Déroulède, the man whom she had sworn to pursue with a vengeance as +great, as complete, as that which guided Charlotte Corday's hand. + +She watched him during the trial, and wondered if he had any +presentiment of the hatred which dogged him, like unto the one which had +dogged Marat. + +He was very dark, almost swarthy a son of the South, with brown hair, +free from powder, thrown back and revealing the brow of a student rather +than that of a legislator. He watched Charlotte Corday earnestly, and +Juliette who watched him saw the look of measureless pity, which +softened the otherwise hard look of his close-set eyes. + +He made an impassioned speech for the defence: a speech which has become +historic. It would have cost any other man his head. + +Juliette marvelled at his courage; to defend Charlotte Corday was +equivalent to acquiescing in the death of Marat: Marat, the friend of +the people; Marat, whom his funeral orators had compared to the Great, +the Sacred Leveller of Mankind! + +But Déroulède's speech was not a defence, it was an appeal. The most +eloquent man of that eloquent age, his words seemed to find that hidden +bit of sentiment which still lurked in the hearts of these strange +protagonists of Hate. + +Everyone round Juliette listened as he spoke: "It is Citoyen Déroulède!" +whispered the bloodthirsty Amazons, who sat knitting in the gallery. + +But there was no further comment. A huge, magnificently-equipped +hospital for sick children had been thrown open in Paris that very +morning, a gift to the nation from Citoyen Déroulède. Surely he was +privileged to talk a little, if it pleased him. His hospital would cover +quite a good many defalcations. + +Even the rabid Mountain, Danton, Merlin, Santerre, shrugged their +shoulders. "It is Déroulède, let him talk an he list. Murdered Marat +said of him that he was not dangerous." + +Juliette heard it all. The knitters round her were talking loudly. Even +Charlotte was almost forgotten whilst Déroulède talked. He had a fine +voice, of strong calibre, which echoed powerfully through the hall. + +He was rather short, but broad-shouldered and well knit, with an +expressive hand, which looked slender and delicate below the fine lace +ruffle. + +Charlotte Corday was condemned. All Déroulède's eloquence could not save +her. + +Juliette left the court in a state of mad exultation. She was very +young: the scenes she had witnessed in the past two years could not help +but excite the imagination of a young girl, left entirely to her own +intellectual and moral resources. + +What scenes! Great God! + +And now to wait for an opportunity! Charlotte Corday, the half-educated +little provincial should not put to shame Mademoiselle de Marny, the +daughter of a hundred dukes, of those who had made France before she +took to unmaking herself. + +But she could not formulate any definite plans. Pétronelle, poor old +soul, her only confidante, was not of the stuff that heroines are made +of. Juliette felt impelled by duty, and duty at best is not so prompt a +counsellor as love or hate. + +Her adventure outside Déroulède's house had not been premeditated. +Impulse and coincidence had worked their will with her. + +She had been in the habit, daily, for the past month, of wandering down +the Rue Ecole de Médecine, ostensibly to gaze at Marat's dwelling, as +crowds of idlers were wont to do, but really in order to look at +Déroulède's house. Once or twice she saw him coming or going from home. +Once she caught sight of the inner hall, and of a young girl in a dark +kirtle and snow-white kerchief bidding him good-bye at his door. Another +time she caught sight of him at the corner of the street, helping that +same young girl over the muddy pavement. He had just met her, and she +was carrying a basket of provisions: he took it from her and carried it +to the house. + +Chivalrous--eh?--and innately so, evidently, for the girl was slightly +deformed: hardly a hunchback, but weak and unattractive-looking, with +melancholy eyes, and a pale, pinched face. + +It was the thought of that little act of simple chivalry, witnessed the +day before, which caused Juliette to provoke the scene which, but for +Déroulède's timely interference, might have ended so fatally. But she +reckoned on that interference: the whole thing had occurred to her +suddenly, and she had carried it through. + +Had not her father said to her that when the time came, God would show +her a means to the end? + +And now she was inside the house of the man who had murdered her brother +and sent her sorrowing father, a poor, senseless maniac, tottering to +the grave. + +Would God's finger point again, and show her what to do next, how best +to accomplish what she had sworn to do? + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Hospitality. + + +"Is there anything more I can do for you now, mademoiselle?" + +The gentle, timid voice roused Juliette from the contemplation of the +past. + +She smiled at Anne Mie, and held her hand out towards her. + +"You have all been so kind," she said, "I want to get up now and thank +you all." + +"Don't move unless you feel quite well." + +"I am quite well now. Those horrid people frightened me so, that is why +I fainted." + +"They would have half-killed you, if ..." + +"Will you tell me where I am?" asked Juliette. + +"In the house of M. Paul Déroulède--I should have said of Citizen-Deputy +Déroulède. He rescued you from the mob, and pacified them. He has such a +beautiful voice that he can make anyone listen to him, and ..." + +"And you are fond of him, mademoiselle?" added Juliette, suddenly +feeling a mist of tears rising to her eyes. + +"Of course I am fond of him," rejoined the other girl simply, whilst a +look of the most tender-hearted devotion seemed to beautify her pale +face. "He and Madame Déroulède have brought me up; I never knew my +parents. They have cared for me, and he has taught me all I know." + +"What do they call you, mademoiselle?" + +"My name is Anne Mie." + +"And mine, Juliette--Juliette Marny," she added after a slight +hesitation. "I have no parents either. My old nurse, Pétronelle, has +brought me up, and--But tell me more about M. Déroulède--I owe him so +much, I'd like to know him better." + +"Will you not let me arrange your hair?" said Anne Mie as if purposely +evading a direct reply. "M. Déroulède is in the salon with madame. You +can see him then." + +Juliette asked no more questions, but allowed Anne Mie to tidy her hair +for her, to lend her a fresh kerchief and generally to efface all traces +of her terrible adventure. She felt puzzled and tearful. Anne Mie's +gentleness seemed somehow to jar on her spirits. She could not +understand the girl's position in the Déroulède household. Was she a +relative, or a superior servant? In these troublous times she might +easily have been both. + +In any case she was a childhood's companion of the +Citizen-Deputy--whether on an equal or a humbler footing, Juliette would +have given much to ascertain. + +With the marvellous instinct peculiar to women of temperament, she had +already divined Anne Mie's love for Déroulède. The poor young cripple's +very soul seemed to quiver magnetically at the bare mention of his name, +her whole face became transfigured: Juliette even thought her beautiful +then. + +She looked at herself critically in the glass, and adjusted a curl, +which looked its best when it was rebellious. She scrutinised her own +face carefully; why? she could not tell: another of those subtle +feminine instincts perhaps. + +The becoming simplicity of the prevailing mode suited her to perfection. +The waist line, rather high but clearly defined--a precursor of the +later more accentuated fashion--gave grace to her long slender limbs, +and emphasised the lissomeness of her figure. The kerchief, edged with +fine lace, and neatly folded across her bosom, softened the contour of +her girlish bust and shoulders. + +And her hair was a veritable glory round her dainty, piquant face. Soft, +fair, and curly, it emerged in a golden halo from beneath the prettiest +little lace cap imaginable. + +She turned and faced Anne Mie, ready to follow her out of the room, and +the young crippled girl sighed as she smoothed down the folds of her own +apron, and gave a final touch to the completion of Juliette's attire. + +The time before the evening meal slipped by like a dream-hour for +Juliette. + +She had lived so much alone, had led such an introspective life, that +she had hardly realised and understood all that was going on around her. +At the time when the inner vitality of France first asserted itself and +then swept away all that hindered its mad progress, she was tied to the +invalid chair of her half-demented father; then, after that, the +sheltering walls of the Ursuline Convent had hidden from her mental +vision the true meaning of the great conflict, between the Old Era and +the New. + +Déroulède was neither a pedant nor yet a revolutionary: his theories +were Utopian and he had an extraordinary overpowering sympathy for his +fellow-men. + +After the first casual greetings with Juliette, he had continued a +discussion with his mother, which the young girl's entrance had +interrupted. + +He seemed to take but little notice of her, although at times his dark, +keen eyes would seek hers, as if challenging her for a reply. + +He was talking of the mob of Paris, whom he evidently understood so +well. Incidents such as the one which Juliette had provoked, had led to +rape and theft, often to murder, before now: but outside Citizen-Deputy +Déroulède's house everything was quiet, half-an-hour after Juliette's +escape from that howling, brutish crowd. + +He had merely spoken to them, for about twenty minutes, and they had +gone away quite quietly, without even touching one hair of his head. He +seemed to love them: to know how to separate the little good that was in +them, from that hard crust of evil, which misery had put around their +hearts. + +Once he addressed Juliette somewhat abruptly: "Pardon me, mademoiselle, +but for your own sake we must guard you a prisoner here awhile. No one +would harm you under this roof, but it would not be safe for you to +cross the neighbouring streets to-night." + +"But I must go, monsieur. Indeed, indeed I must!" she said earnestly. "I +am deeply grateful to you, but I could not leave Pétronelle." + +"Who is Pétronelle?" + +"My dear old nurse, monsieur. She has never left me. Think how anxious +and miserable she must be, at my prolonged absence." + +"Where does she live?" + +"At No. 15 Rue Taitbout, but ..." + +"Will you allow me to take her a message?--telling her that you are safe +and under my roof, where it is obviously more prudent that you should +remain at present." + +"If you think it best, monsieur," she replied. + +Inwardly she was trembling with excitement. God had not only brought her +to this house, but willed that she should stay in it. + +"In whose name shall I take the message, mademoiselle?" he asked. + +"My name is Juliette Marny." + +She watched him keenly as she said it, but there was not the slightest +sign in his expressive face, to show that he had recognised the name. + +Ten years is a long time, and every one had lived through so much during +those years! A wave of intense wrath swept through Juliette's soul, as +she realised that he had forgotten. The name meant nothing to him! It +did not recall to him the fact that his hand was stained with blood. +During ten years she had suffered, she had fought with herself, fought +for him as it were, against the Fate which she was destined to mete out +to him, whilst he had forgotten, or at least had ceased to think. + +He bowed to her and went out of the room. + +The wave of wrath subsided, and she was left alone with Madame +Déroulède: presently Anne Mie came in. + +The three women chatted together, waiting for the return of the master +of the house. Juliette felt well and, in spite of herself, almost happy. +She had lived so long in the miserable, little attic alone with +Pétronelle that she enjoyed the well-being of this refined home. It was +not so grand or gorgeous of course as her father's princely palace +opposite the Louvre, a wreck now, since it was annexed by the Committee +of National Defence, for the housing of soldiery. But the Déroulèdes' +home was essentially a refined one. The delicate china on the tall +chimney-piece, the few bits of Buhl and Vernis Martin about the room, +the vision through the open doorway of the supper-table spread with a +fine white cloth, and sparkling with silver, all spoke of fastidious +tastes, of habits of luxury and elegance, which the spirit of Equality +and Anarchy had not succeeded in eradicating. + +When Déroulède came back, he brought an atmosphere of breezy +cheerfulness with him. + +The street was quiet now, and when walking past the hospital--his own +gift to the Nation--he had been loudly cheered. One or two ironical +voices had asked him what he had done with the aristo and her lace +furbelows, but it remained at that and Mademoiselle Marny need have no +fear. + +He had brought Pétronelle along with him: his careless, lavish +hospitality would have suggested the housing of Juliette's entire +domestic establishment, had she possessed one. + +As it was, the worthy old soul's deluge of happy tears had melted his +kindly heart. He offered her and her young mistress shelter, until the +small cloud should have rolled by. + +After that he suggested a journey to England. Emigration now was the +only real safety, and Mademoiselle Marny had unpleasantly drawn on +herself the attention of the Paris rabble. No doubt, within the next few +days her name would figure among the "suspect." She would be safest out +of the country, and could not do better than place herself under the +guidance of that English enthusiast, who had helped so many persecuted +Frenchmen to escape from the terrors of the Revolution: the man who was +such a thorn in the flesh of the Committee of Public Safety, and who +went by the nickname of The Scarlet Pimpernel. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +The faithful house-dog. + + +After supper they talked of Charlotte Corday. + +Juliette clung to the vision of that heroine, and liked to talk of her. +She appeared as a justification of her own actions, which somehow seemed +to require justification. + +She loved to hear Paul Déroulède talk; liked to provoke his enthusiasm +and to see his stern, dark face light up with the inward fire of the +enthusiast. + +She had openly avowed herself as the daughter of the Duc de Marny. When +she actually named her father, and her brother killed in duel, she saw +Déroulède looking long and searchingly at her. Evidently he wondered if +she knew everything: but she returned his gaze fearlessly and frankly, +and he apparently was satisfied. + +Madame Déroulède seemed to know nothing of the circumstances of that +duel. Déroulède tried to draw Juliette out, to make her speak of her +brother. She replied to his questions quite openly, but there was +nothing in what she said, suggestive of the fact that she knew who +killed her brother. + +She wanted him to know who she was. If he feared an enemy in her, there +was yet time enough for him to close his doors against her. + +But less than a minute later, he had renewed his warmest offers of +hospitality. + +"Until we can arrange for your journey to England," he added with a +short sigh, as if reluctant to part from her. + +To Juliette his attitude seemed one of complete indifference for the +wrong he had done to her and to her father: feeling that she was an +avenging spirit, with flaming sword in hand, pursuing her brother's +murderer like a relentless Nemesis, she would have preferred to see him +cowed before her, even afraid of her, though she was only a young and +delicate girl. + +She did not understand that in the simplicity of his heart, he only +wished to make amends. The quarrel with the young Vicomte de Marny had +been forced upon him, the fight had been honourable and fair, and on his +side fought with every desire to spare the young man. He had merely been +the instrument of Fate, but he felt happy that Fate once more used him +as her tool, this time to save the sister. + +Whilst Déroulède and Juliette talked together Anne Mie cleared the +supper-table, then came and sat on a low stool at madame's feet. She +took no part in the conversation, but every now and then Juliette felt +the girl's melancholy eyes fixed almost reproachfully upon her. + +When Juliette had retired with Pétronelle, Déroulède took Anne Mie's +hand in his. + +"You will be kind to my guest, Anne Mie, won't you? She seems very +lonely, and has gone through a great deal." + +"Not more than I have," murmured the young girl involuntarily. + +"You are not happy, Anne Mie? I thought ..." + +"Is a wretched, deformed creature ever happy?" she said with sudden +vehemence, as tears of mortification rushed to her eyes, in spite of +herself. + +"I did not think that you were wretched," he replied with some sadness, +"and neither in my eyes, nor in my mother's, are you in any way +deformed." + +Her mood changed at once. She clung to him, pressing his hand between +her own. + +"Forgive me! I--I don't know what's the matter with me to-night," she +said with a nervous little laugh. "Let me see, you asked me to be kind +to Mademoiselle Marny, did you not?" + +He nodded with a smile. + +"Of course I'll be kind to her. Isn't every one kind to one who is young +and beautiful, and has great, appealing eyes, and soft, curly hair? Ah +me! how easy is the path in life for some people! What do you want me to +do, Paul? Wait on her? Be her little maid? Soothe her nerves or what? +I'll do it all, though in her eyes I shall remain both wretched and +deformed, a creature to pity, the harmless, necessary house-dog ..." + +She paused a moment: said "Good-night" to him, and turned to go, candle +in hand, looking pathetic and fragile, with that ugly contour of +shoulder, which Déroulède assured her he could not see. + +The candle flickered in the draught, illumining the thin, pinched face, +the large melancholy eyes of the faithful house-dog. + +"Who can watch and bite!" she said half-audibly as she slipped out of +the room. "For I do not trust you, my fine madam, and there was +something about that comedy this afternoon, which somehow, I don't quite +understand." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A day in the woods. + + +But whilst men and women set to work to make the towns of France hideous +with their shrieks and their hootings, their mock-trials and bloody +guillotines, they could not quite prevent Nature from working her sweet +will with the country. + +June, July, and August had received new names--they were now called +Messidor, Thermidor, and Fructidor, but under these new names they +continued to pour forth upon the earth the same old fruits, the same +flowers, the same grass in the meadows and leaves upon the trees. + +Messidor brought its quota of wild roses in the hedgerows, just as +archaic June had done. Thermidor covered the barren cornfields with its +flaming mantle of scarlet poppies, and Fructidor, though now called +August, still tipped the wild sorrel with dots of crimson, and laid the +first wash of tender colour on the pale cheeks of the ripening peaches. + +And Juliette--young, girlish, feminine and inconsequent--had sighed for +country and sunshine, had longed for a ramble in the woods, the music of +the birds, the sight of the meadows sugared with marguerites. + +She had left the house early: accompanied by Pétronelle, she had been +rowed along the river as far as Suresnes. They had brought some bread +and fresh butter, a little wine and fruit in a basket, and from here she +meant to wander homewards through the woods. + +It was all so peaceful, so remote: even the noise of shrieking, howling +Paris did not reach the leafy thickets of Suresnes. + +It almost seemed as if this little old-world village had been forgotten +by the destroyers of France. It had never been a royal residence, the +woods had never been preserved for royal sport: there was no vengeance +to be wreaked upon its peaceful glades and sleepy, fragrant meadows. + +Juliette spent a happy day; she loved the flowers, the trees, the birds, +and Pétronelle was silent and sympathetic. As the afternoon wore on, and +it was time to go home, Juliette turned townwards with a sigh. + +You all know that road through the woods, which lies to the north-west +of Paris: so leafy, so secluded. No large, hundred-year-old trees, no +fine oaks or antique elms, but numberless delicate stems of hazel-nut +and young ash, covered with honeysuckle at this time of year, +sweet-smelling and so peaceful after that awful turmoil of the town. + +Obedient to Madame Déroulède's suggestion, Juliette had tied a tricolour +scarf round her waist, and a Phrygian cap of crimson cloth, with the +inevitable rosette on one side, adorned her curly head. + +She had gathered a huge bouquet of poppies, marguerites and blue lupin +--Nature's tribute to the national colours--and as she wandered through +the sylvan glades she looked like some quaint dweller of the woods--a +sprite, mayhap--with old mother Pétronelle trotting behind her, like an +attendant witch. + +Suddenly she paused, for in the near distance she had perceived the +sound of footsteps upon the leafy turf, and the next moment Paul +Déroulède emerged from out the thicket and came rapidly towards her. + +"We were so anxious about you at home!" he said, almost by way of an +apology. "My mother became so restless ..." + +"That to quiet her fears you came in search of me!" she retorted with a +gay little laugh, the laugh of a young girl, scarce a woman as yet, who +feels that she is good to look at, good to talk to, who feels her wings +for the first time, the wings with which to soar into that mad, merry, +elusive land called Romance. Ay, her wings! but her power also! that +sweet, subtle power of the woman: the yoke which men love, rail at, and +love again, the yoke that enslaves them and gives them the joy of kings. + +How happy the day had been! Yet it had been incomplete! + +Pétronelle was somewhat dull, and Juliette was too young to enjoy long +companionship with her own thoughts. Now suddenly the day seemed to have +become perfect. There was someone there to appreciate the charm of the +woods, the beauty of that blue sky peeping though the tangled foliage of +the honeysuckle-covered trees. There was some one to talk to, someone to +admire the fresh white frock Juliette had put on that morning. + +"But how did you know where to find me?" she asked with a quaint touch +of immature coquetry. + +"I didn't know," he replied quietly. "They told me you had gone to +Suresness, and meant to wander homewards through the woods. It +frightened me, for you will have to go through the north-west barrier, +and ..." + +"Well?" + +He smiled, and looked earnestly for a moment at the dainty apparition +before him. + +"Well, you know!" he said gaily, "that tricolour scarf and the red cap +are not quite sufficient as a disguise: you look anything but a staunch +friend of the people. I guessed that your muslin frock would be clean, +and that there would still be some tell-tale lace upon it." + +She laughed again, and with delicate fingers lifted her pretty muslin +frock, displaying a white frou-frou of flounces beneath the hem. + +"How careless and childish!" he said, almost roughly. + +"Would you have me coarse and grimy to be a fitting match for your +partisans?" she retorted. + +His tone of mentor nettled her, his attitude seemed to her priggish and +dictatorial, and as the sun disappearing behind a sudden cloud, so her +childish merriment quickly gave place to a feeling of unexplainable +disappointment. + +"I humbly beg your pardon," he said quietly, "And must crave your kind +indulgence for my mood: but I have been so anxious ..." + +"Why should you be anxious about me?" + +She had meant to say this indifferently, as if caring little what the +reply might be: but in her effort to seem indifferent her voice became +haughty, a reminiscence of the days when she still was the daughter of +the Duc de Marny, the richest and most high-born heiress in France. + +"Was that presumptuous?" he asked, with a slight touch of irony, in +response to her own hauteur. + +"It was merely unnecessary," she replied. "I have already laid too many +burdens on your shoulders, without wishing to add that of anxiety." + +"You have laid no burden on me," he said quietly, "save one of +gratitude." + +"Gratitude? What have I done?" + +"You committed a foolish, thoughtless act outside my door, and gave me +the chance of easing my conscience of a heavy load." + +"In what way?" + +"I had never hoped that the Fates would be so kind as to allow me to +render a member of your family a slight service." + +"I understand that you saved my life the other day, Monsieur Déroulède. +I know that I am still in peril and that I owe my safety to you ..." + +"Do you also know that your brother owed his death to me?" + +She closed her lips firmly, unable to reply, wrathful with him, for +having suddenly and without any warning, placed a clumsy hand upon that +hidden sore. + +"I always meant to tell you," he continued somewhat hurriedly; "for it +almost seemed to me that I have been cheating you, these last few days. +I don't suppose that you can quite realise what it means to me to tell +you this just now; but I owe it to you, I think. In later years you +might find out, and then regret the days you spent under my roof. I +called you childish a moment ago, you must forgive me; I know that you +are a woman, and hope therefore that you will understand me. I killed +your brother in fair fight. He provoked me as no man was ever provoked +before ..." + +"Is it necessary, M. Déroulède, that you should tell me all this?" she +interrupted him with some impatience. + +"I thought you ought to know." + +"You must know, on the other hand, that I have no means of hearing the +history of the quarrel from my brother's point of view now." + +The moment the words were out of her lips she had realised how cruelly +she had spoken. He did not reply; he was too chivalrous, too gentle, to +reproach her. Perhaps he understood for the first time how bitterly she +had felt her brother's death, and how deeply she must be suffering, now +that she knew herself to be face to face with his murderer. + +She stole a quick glance at him, through her tears. She was deeply +penitent for what she had said. It almost seemed to her as if a dual +nature was at war within her. + +The mention of her brother's name, the recollection of that awful night +beside his dead body, of those four years whilst she watched her +father's moribund reason slowly wandering towards the grave, seemed to +rouse in her a spirit of rebellion, and of evil, which she felt was not +entirely of herself. + +The woods had become quite silent. It was late afternoon, and they had +gradually wandered farther and farther away from pretty sylvan +Suresness, towards great, anarchic, deathdealing Paris. In this part of +the woods the birds had left their homes; the trees, shorn of their +lower branches looked like gaunt spectres, raising melancholy heads +towards the relentless, silent sky. + +In the distance, from behind the barriers, a couple of miles away, the +boom of a gun was heard. + +"They are closing the barriers," he said quietly after a long pause. "I +am glad I was fortunate enough to meet you." + +"It was kind of you to seek for me," she said meekly. "I didn't mean +what I said just now ..." + +"I pray you, say no more about it. I can so well understand. I only wish +..." + +"It would be best I should leave your house," she said gently; "I have +so ill repaid your hospitality. Pétronelle and I can easily go back to +our lodgings." + +"You would break my mother's heart if you left her now," he said, almost +roughly. "She has become very fond of you, and knows, just as well as I +do, the dangers that would beset you outside my house. My coarse and +grimy partisans," he added, with a bitter touch of sarcasm, "have that +advantage, that they are loyal to me, and would not harm you while under +my roof." + +"But you ..." she murmured. + +She felt somehow that she had wounded him very deeply, and was half +angry with herself for her seeming ingratitude, and yet childishly glad +to have suppressed in him that attitude of mentorship, which he was +beginning to assume over her. + +"You need not fear that my presence will offend you much longer, +mademoiselle," he said coldly. "I can quite understand how hateful it +must be to you, though I would have wished that you could believe at +least in my sincerity." + +"Are you going away then?" + +"Not out of Paris altogether. I have accepted the post of Governor of +the Conciergerie." + +"Ah!--where the poor Queen ..." + +She checked herself suddenly. Those words would have been called +treasonable to the people of France. + +Instinctively and furtively, as everyone did in these days, she cast a +rapid glance behind her. + +"You need not be afraid," he said; "there is no one here but +Pétronelle." + +"And you." + +"Oh! I echo your words. Poor Marie Antoinette!" + +"You pity her?" + +"How can I help it?" + +"But your are that horrible National Convention, who will try her, +condemn her, execute her as they did the King." + +"I am of the National Convention. But I will not condemn her, nor be a +party to another crime. I go as Governor of the Conciergerie, to help +her, if I can." + +"But your popularity--your life--if you befriend her?" + +"As you say, mademoiselle, my life, if I befriend her," he said simply. + +She looked at him with renewed curiosity in her gaze. + +How strange were men in these days! Paul Déroulède, the republican, the +recognised idol of the lawless people of France, was about to risk his +life for the woman he had helped to dethrone. + +Pity with him did not end with the rabble of Paris; it had reached +Charlotte Corday, though it failed to save her, and now it extended to +the poor dispossessed Queen. Somehow, in his face this time, she saw +either success or death. + +"When do you leave?" she asked. + +"To-morrow night." + +She said nothing more. Strangely enough, a tinge of melancholy had +settled over her spirits. No doubt the proximity of the town was the +cause of this. She could already hear the familiar noise of muffled +drums, the loud, excited shrieking of the mob, who stood round the gates +of Paris, at this time of the evening, waiting to witness some important +capture, perhaps that of a hated aristocrat striving to escape from the +people's revenge. + +They had reached the edge of the wood, and gradually, as she walked, the +flowers she had gathered fell unheeded out of her listless hands one by +one. + +First the blue lupins: their bud-laden heads were heavy and they dropped +to the ground, followed by the white marguerites, that lay thick behind +her now on the grass like a shroud. The red poppies were the lightest, +their thin gummy stalks clung to her hands longer than the rest. At last +she let them fall too, singly, like great drops of blood, that glistened +as her long white gown swept them aside. + +Déroulède was absorbed in his thoughts, and seemed not to heed her. At +the barrier, however, he roused himself and took out the passes which +alone enabled Juliette and Pétronelle to re-enter the town unchallenged. +He himself as Citizen-Deputy could come and go as he wished. + +Juliette shuddered as the great gates closed behind her with a heavy +clank. It seemed to shut out even the memory of this happy day, which +for a brief space had been quite perfect. + +She did not know Paris very well, and wondered where lay that gloomy +Conciergerie, where a dethroned queen was living her last days, in an +agonised memory of the past. But as they crossed the bridge she +recognised all round her the massive towers of the great city: Notre +Dame, the grateful spire of La Sainte Chapelle, the sombre outline of +St. Gervais, and behind her the Louvre with its great history and +irreclaimable grandeur. How small her own tragedy seemed in the midst of +this great sanguinary drama, the last act of which had not yet even +begun. Her own revenge, her oath, her tribulations, what were they in +comparison with that great flaming Nemesis which had swept away a +throne, that vow of retaliation carried out by thousands against other +thousands, that long story of degradation, of regicide, of fratricide, +the awesome chapters of which were still being unfolded one by one? + +She felt small and petty: ashamed of the pleasure she had felt in the +woods, ashamed of her high spirits and light-heartedness, ashamed of +that feeling of sudden pity and admiration for the man who had done her +and her family so deep an injury, which she was too feeble, too +vacillating to avenge. + +The majestic outline of the Louvre seemed to frown sarcastically on her +weakness, the silent river to mock her and her wavering purpose. The man +beside her had wronged her and hers far more deeply than the Bourbons +had wronged their people. The people of France were taking their +revenge, and God had at the close of this last happy day of her life +pointed once more to the means for her great end. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +The Scarlet Pimpernel. + + +It was some few hours later. The ladies sat in the drawing-room, silent +and anxious. + +Soon after supper a visitor had called, and had been closeted with Paul +Déroulède in the latter's study for the past two hours. + +A tall, somewhat lazy-looking figure, he was sitting at a table face to +face with the Citizen-Deputy. On a chair beside him lay a heavy caped +coat, covered with the dust and the splashings of a long journey, but he +himself was attired in clothes that suggested the most fastidious taste, +and the most perfect of tailors; he wore with apparent ease the +eccentric fashion of the time, the short-waisted coat of many lapels, +the double waistcoat and billows of delicate lace. Unlike Déroulède he +was of great height, with fair hair and a somewhat lazy expression in +his good-natured blue eyes, and as he spoke, there was just a soupçon of +foreign accent in the pronunciation of the French vowels, a certain +drawl of o's and a's, that would have betrayed the Britisher to an +observant ear. + +The two men had been talking earnestly for some time, the tall +Englishman was watching his friend keenly, whilst an amused, pleasant +smile lingered round the corners of his firm mouth and jaw. Déroulède, +restless and enthusiastic, was pacing to and fro. + +"But I don't understand now, how you managed to reach Paris, my dear +Blakeney!" said Déroulède at last, placing an anxious hand on his +friend's shoulder. "The government has not forgotten The Scarlet +Pimpernel." + +"La! I took care of that!" responded Blakeney with his short, pleasant +laugh. "I sent Tinville my autograph this morning." + +"You are mad, Blakeney!" + +"Not altogether, my friend. My faith! 'twas not only foolhardiness caused +me to grant that devilish prosecutor another sight of my scarlet device. +I knew what you maniacs would be after, so I came across in the +_Daydream,_just to see if I couldn't get my share of the fun." + +"Fun, you call it?" queried the other bitterly. + +"Nay! what would you have me call it? A mad, insane, senseless tragedy, +with but one issue?--the guillotine for you all." + +"Then why did you come?" + +"To--What shall I say, my friend?" rejoined Sir Percy Blakeney, with +that inimitable drawl of his. "To give your demmed government something +else to think about, whilst you are all busy running your heads into a +noose." + +"What makes you think we are doing that?" + +"Three things, my friend--may I offer you a pinch of snuff--No?--Ah +well!..." And with the graceful gesture of an accomplished dandy, Sir +Percy flicked off a grain of dust from his immaculate Mechlin ruffles. + +"Three things," he continued quietly; "an imprisoned Queen, about to be +tried for her life, the temperament of a Frenchman--some of them--and +the idiocy of mankind generally. These three things make me think that a +certain section of hot-headed Republicans with yourself, my dear +Déroulède, _en tête,_ are about to attempt the most stupid, senseless, +purposeless thing that was ever concocted by the excitable brain of a +demmed Frenchman." + +Déroulède smiled. + +"Does it not seem amusing to you, Blakeney, that you should sit there +and condemn anyone for planning mad, insane, senseless things." + +"La! I'll not sit, I'll stand!" rejoined Blakeney with a laugh, as he +drew himself up to his full height, and stretched his long, lazy limbs. +"And now let me tell you, friend, that my League of The Scarlet +Pimpernel never attempted the impossible, and to try and drag the Queen +out of the clutches of these murderous rascals now, is attempting the +unattainable." + +"And yet we mean to try." + +"I know it. I guessed it, that is why I came: that is also why I sent a +pleasant little note to the Committee of Public Safety, signed with the +device they know so well: The Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"Well?" + +"Well! the result is obvious. Robespierre, Danton, Tinville, Merlin, and +the whole of the demmed murderous crowd, will be busy looking after +me--a needle in a haystack. They'll put the abortive attempt down to me, +and you may--_ma foi!_ I only suggest that you _may_ escape safely out +of France--in the _Daydream,_ and with the help of your humble servant." + +"But in the meanwhile they'll discover you, and they'll not let you +escape a second time." + +"My friend! if a terrier were to lose his temper, he never would run a +rat to earth. Now your Revolutionary Government has lost its temper with +me, ever since I slipped through Chauvelin's fingers; they are blind +with their own fury, whilst I am perfectly happy and cool as a cucumber. +My life has become valuable to me, my friend. There is someone over the +water now who weeps when I don't return--No! no! never fear--they'll not +get The Scarlet Pimpernel this journey ..." + +He laughed, a gay, pleasant laugh, and his strong, firm face seemed to +soften at thought of the beautiful wife, over in England, who was +waiting anxiously for his safe return. + +"And yet you'll not help us to rescue the Queen?" rejoined Déroulède, +with some bitterness. + +"By every means in my power," replied Blakeney, "save the insane. But I +will help to get you all out of the demmed hole, when you have failed." + +"We'll not fail," asserted the other hotly. + +Sir Percy Blakeney went close up to his friend and placed his long, +slender hand, with a touch of almost womanly tenderness upon the +latter's shoulder. + +"Will you tell me your plans?" + +In a moment Déroulède was all fire and enthusiasm. + +"There are not many of us in it," he began, "although half France will +be in sympathy with us. We have plenty of money, of course, and also the +necessary disguise for the royal lady." + +"Yes?" + +"I, in the meanwhile, have asked for and obtained the post of Governor +of the Conciergerie; I go into my new quarters to-morrow. In the +meanwhile, I am making arrangements for my mother and--and those +dependent upon me to quit France immediately." + +Blakeney had perceived the slight hesitation when Déroulède mentioned +those dependent upon him. He looked scrutinisingly at his friend, who +continued quickly: + +"I am still very popular among the people. My family can go about +unmolested. I must get them out of France, however, in case--in case +..." + +"Of course," rejoined the other simply. + +"As soon as I am assured that they are safe, my friends and I can +prosecute our plans. You see the trial of the Queen has not yet been +decided on, but I know that it is in the air. We hope to get her away, +disguised in one of the uniforms of the National Guard. As you know, it +will be my duty to make the final round every evening in the prison, and +to see that everything is safe for the night. Two fellows watch all +night, in the room next to that occupied by the Queen. Usually they +drink and play cards all night long. I want an opportunity to drug their +brandy, and thus to render them more loutish and idiotic than usual; +then for a blow on the head that will make them senseless. It should be +easy, for I have a strong fist, and after that ..." + +"Well? After that, friend?" rejoined Sir Percy earnestly, "after that? +Shall I fill in the details of the picture?--the guard twenty-five +strong outside the Conciergerie, how will you pass them?" + +"I as the Governor, followed by one of my guards ..." + +"To go whither?" + +"I have the right to come and go as I please." + +"I' faith! so you have, but 'one of your guards'--eh? Wrapped to the +eyes in a long mantle to hide the female figure beneath. I have been in +Paris but a few hours, and yet already I have realised that there is not +one demmed citizen within its walls, who does not at this moment suspect +some other demmed citizen of conniving at the Queen's escape. Even the +sparrows on the house-tops are objects of suspicion. No figure wrapped +in a mantle will from this day forth leave Paris unchallenged." + +"But you yourself, friend?" suggested Déroulède. "You think you can quit +Paris unrecognised--then why not the Queen?" + +"Because she is a woman, and has been a queen. She has nerves, poor +soul, and weaknesses of body and of mind now. Alas for her! Alas for +France! who wreaks such idle vengeance on so poor an enemy? Can you take +hold of Marie Antoinette by the shoulders, shove her into the bottom of +a cart and pile sacks of potatoes on the top of her? I did that to the +Comtesse de Tournai and her daughter, as stiff-necked a pair of French +aristocrats as ever deserved the guillotine for their insane prejudices. +But can you do it to Marie Antoinette? She'd rebuke you publicly, and +betray herself and you in a flash, sooner than submit to a loss of +dignity." + +"But would you leave her to her fate?" + +"Ah! there's the trouble, friend. Do you think you need appeal to the +sense of chivalry of my league? We are still twenty strong, and heart +and soul in sympathy with your mad schemes. The poor, poor Queen! But +you are bound to fail, and then who will help you all, if we too are put +out of the way?" + +"We should succeed if you helped us. At one time you used proudly to +say: 'The League of The Scarlet Pimpernel has never failed.'" + +"Because it attempted nothing which it could not accomplish. But, la! +since you put me on my mettle--Demm it all! I'll have to think about +it!" + +And he laughed that funny, somewhat inane laugh of his, which had +deceived the clever men of two countries as to his real personality. + +Déroulède went up to the heavy oak desk which occupied a conspicuous +place in the centre of one of the walls. He unlocked it and drew forth a +bundle of papers. + +"Will you look through these?" he asked, handing them to Sir Percy +Blakeney. + +"What are they?" + +"Different schemes I have drawn up, in case my original plan should not +succeed." + +"Burn them, my friend," said Blakeney laconically. "Have you not yet +learned the lesson of never putting your hand to paper?" + +"I can't burn these. You see, I shall not be able to have long +conversations with Marie Antoinette. I must give her my suggestions in +writing, that she may study them and not fail me, through lack of +knowledge of her part." + +"Better that than papers in these times, my friend: these papers, if +found, would send you, untried, to the guillotine." + +"I am careful, and, at present, quite beyond suspicion. Moreover, among +the papers is a complete collection of passports, suitable for any +character the Queen and her attendant may be forced to assume. It has +taken me some months to collect them, so as not to arouse suspicion; I +gradually got them together, on one pretence or another: now I am ready +for any eventuality ..." + +He suddenly paused. A look in his friend's face had given him a swift +warning. + +He turned, and there in the doorway, holding back the heavy portière, +stood Juliette, graceful, smiling, a little pale, this no doubt owing to +the flickering light of the unsnuffed candles. + +So young and girlish did she look in her soft, white muslin frock that +at sight of her the tension in Déroulède's face seemed to relax. +Instinctively he had thrown the papers back into the desk, but his look +had softened, from the fire of obstinate energy to that of inexpressible +tenderness. + +Blakeney was quietly watching the young girl as she stood in the +doorway, a little bashful and undecided. + +"Madame Déroulède sent me," she said hesitatingly, "she says the hour is +getting late and she is very anxious. M. Déroulède, would you come and +reassure her?" + +"In a moment, mademoiselle," he replied lightly, "my friend and I have +just finished our talk. May I have the honour to present him?--Sir Percy +Blakeney, a traveller from England. Blakeney, this is Mademoiselle +Juliette de Marny, my mother's guest." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A warning. + + +Sir Percy bowed very low, with all the graceful flourish and elaborate +gesture the eccentric customs of the time demanded. + +He had not said a word, since the first exclamation of warning, with +which he had drawn his friend's attention to the young girl in the +doorway. + +Noiselessly, as she had come, Juliette glided out of the room again, +leaving behind her an atmosphere of wild flowers, of the bouquet she had +gathered, then scattered in the woods. + +There was silence in the room for awhile. Déroulède was locking up his +desk and slipping the keys into his pocket. + +"Shall we join my mother for a moment, Blakeney?" he said, moving +towards the door. + +"I shall be proud to pay my respects," replied Sir Percy; "but before we +close the subject, I think I'll change my mind about those papers. If I +am to be of service to you I think I had best look through them, and +give you my opinion of your schemes." + +Déroulède looked at him keenly for a moment. + +"Certainly," he said at last, going up to his desk. "I'll stay with you +whilst you read them through." + +"La! not to-night, my friend," said Sir Percy lightly; "the hour is +late, and madame is waiting for us. They'll be quite safe with me, and +you'll entrust them to my care." + +Déroulède seemed to hesitate. Blakeney had spoken in his usual airy +manner, and was even now busy readjusting the set of his +perfectly-tailored coat. + +"Perhaps you cannot quite trust me?" laughed Sir Percy gaily. "I seemed +too lukewarm just now." + +"No; it's not that, Blakeney!" said Déroulède quietly at last. "There is +no mistrust in me, all the mistrust is on your side." + +"Faith!--" began Sir Percy. + +"Nay! do not explain. I understand and appreciate your friendship, but I +should like to convince you how unjust is your mistrust of one of God's +purest angels, that ever walked the earth." + +"Oho! that's it, is it, friend Déroulède? Methought you had foresworn +the sex altogether, and now you are in love." + +"Madly, blindly, stupidly in love, my friend," said Déroulède with a +sigh. "Hopelessly, I fear me!" + +"Why hopelessly?" + +"She is the daughter of the late Duc de Marny, one of the oldest names +in France; a Royalist to the backbone ..." + +"Hence your overwhelming sympathy for the Queen!" + +"Nay! you wrong me there, friend. I'd have tried to save the Queen, even +if I had never learned to love Juliette. But you see now how unjust were +your suspicions." + +"Had I any?" + +"Don't deny it. You were loud in urging me to burn those papers a moment +ago. You called them useless and dangerous and now ..." + +"I still think them useless and dangerous, and by reading them would +wish to confirm my opinion and give weight to my arguments." + +"If I were to part from them now I would seem to be mistrusting her." + +"You are a mad idealist, my dear Déroulède!" + +"How can I help it? I have lived under the same roof with her for three +weeks now. I have begun to understand what a saint is like." + +"And 'twill be when you understand that your idol has feet of clay that +you'll learn the real lesson of love," said Blakeney earnestly. + +"Is it love to worship a saint in heaven, whom you dare not touch, who +hovers above you like a cloud, which floats away from you even as you +gaze? To love is to feel one being in the world at one with us, our +equal in sin as well as in virtue. To love, for us men, is to clasp one +woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and breathes just as we do, +suffers as we do, thinks with us, loves with us, and, above all, sins +with us. Your mock saint who stands in a niche is not a woman if she +have not suffered, still less a woman if she have not sinned. Fall at +the feet of your idol an you wish, but drag her down to your level after +that--the only level she should ever reach, that of your heart." + +Who shall render faithfully a true account of the magnetism which poured +forth from this remarkable man as he spoke: this well-dressed, foppish +apostle of the greatest love that man has ever known. And as he spoke +the whole story of his own great, true love for the woman who once had +so deeply wronged him seemed to stand clearly written in the strong, +lazy, good-humoured, kindly face glowing with tenderness for her. + +Déroulède felt this magnetism, and therefore did not resent the implied +suggestion, anent the saint whom he was still content to worship. + +A dreamer and an idealist, his mind held spellbound by the great social +problems which were causing the upheaval of a whole country, he had not +yet had the time to learn the sweet lesson which Nature teaches to her +elect--the lesson of a great, a true, human and passionate love. To him, +at present, Juliette represented the perfect embodiment of his most +idealistic dreams. She stood in his mind so far above him that if she +proved unattainable, he would scarce have suffered. It was such a +foregone conclusion. + +Blakeney's words were the first to stir in his heart a desire for +something beyond that quasi-mediaeval worship, something weaker and yet +infinitely stronger, something more earthy and yet almost divine. + +"And now, shall we join the ladies?" said Blakeney after a long pause, +during which the mental workings of his alert brain were almost visible, +in the earnest look which he cast at his friend. "You shall keep the +papers in your desk, give them into the keeping of your saint, trust her +all in all rather than not at all, and if the time should come that your +heaven-enthroned ideal fall somewhat heavily to earth, then give me the +privilege of being a witness to your happiness." + +"You are still mistrustful, Blakeney," said Déroulède lightly. "If you +say much more I'll give these papers into Mademoiselle Marny's keeping +until to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Anne Mie. + + +That night, when Blakeney, wrapped in his cloak, was walking down the +Rue Ecole de Médecine towards his own lodgings, he suddenly felt a timid +hand upon his sleeve. + +Anne Mie stood beside him, her pale, melancholy face peeping up at the +tall Englishman, through the folds of a dark hood closely tied under her +chin. + +"Monsieur," she said timidly, "do not think me very presumptuous. I--I +would wish to have five minutes' talk with you--may I?" + +He looked down with great kindness at the quaint, wizened little figure, +and the strong face softened at the sight of the poor, deformed +shoulder, the hard, pinched look of the young mouth, the general look of +pathetic helplessness which appeals so strongly to the chivalrous. + +"Indeed, mademoiselle," he said gently, "you make me very proud; and I +can serve you in any way, I pray you command me. But," he added, seeing +Anne Mie's somewhat scared look, "this street is scarce fit for private +conversation. Shall we try and find a better spot?" + +Paris had not yet gone to bed. In these times it was really safest to be +out in the open streets. There, everybody was more busy, more on the +move, on the lookout for suspected houses, leaving the wanderer alone. + +Blakeney led Anne Mie towards the Luxembourg Gardens, the great +devastated pleasure-ground of the ci-devant tyrants of the people. The +beautiful Anne of Austria, and the Medici before her, Louis XIII, and +his gallant musketeers--all have given place to the great cannon-forging +industry of this besieged Republic. France, attacked on every side, is +forcing her sons to defend her: persecuted, martyrised, done to death by +her, she is still their Mother: La Patrie, who needs their arms against +the foreign foe. England is threatening the north, Prussia and Austria +the east. Admiral Hood's flag is flying on Toulon Arsenal. + +The siege of the Republic! + +And the Republic is fighting for dear life. The Tuileries and Luxembourg +Gardens are transformed into a township of gigantic smithies; and Anne +Mie, with scared eyes, and clinging to Blakeney's arm, cast furtive, +terrified glances at the huge furnaces and the begrimed, darkly scowling +faces of the workers within. + +"The people of France in arms against tyranny!" Great placards, bearing +these inspiriting words, are affixed to gallows-shaped posts, and +flutter in the evening breeze, rendered scorching by the heat of the +furnaces all around. + +Farther on, a group of older men, squatting on the ground, are busy +making tents, and some women--the same Megaeras who daily shriek round +the guillotine--are plying their needles and scissors for the purpose of +making clothes for the soldiers. + +The soldiers are the entire able-bodied male population of France. + +"The people of France in arms against tyranny!" + +That is their sign, their trade-mark; one of these placards, fitfully +illumined by a torch of resin, towers above a group of children busy +tearing up scraps of old linen--their mothers', their sisters' linen +--in order to make lint for the wounded. + +Loud curses and suppressed mutterings fill the smoke-laden air. + +The people of France, in arms against tyranny, is bending its broad back +before the most cruel, the most absolute and brutish slave-driving ever +exercised over mankind. + +Not even mediaeval Christianity has ever dared such wholesale +enforcements of its doctrines, as this constitution of Liberty and +Fraternity. + +Merlin's "Law of the Suspect" has just been formulated. From now onward +each and every citizen of France must watch his words, his looks, his +gestures, lest they be suspect. Of what--of treason to the Republic, to +the people? Nay, worse! lest they be suspect of being suspect to the +great era of Liberty. + +Therefore in the smithies and among the groups of tent-makers a moment's +negligence, a careless attention to the work, might lead to a brief +trial on the morrow and the inevitable guillotine. Negligence is treason +to the higher interests of the Republic. + +Blakeney dragged Anne Mie away from the sight. These roaring furnaces +frightened her; he took her down the Place St Michel, towards the river. +It was quieter here. + +"What dreadful people they have become," she said, shuddering; "even I +can remember how different they used to be." + +The houses on the banks of the river were mostly converted into +hospitals, preparatory for the great siege. Some hundred mètres lower +down, the new children's hospital, endowed by Citizen-Deputy Déroulède, +loomed, white, clean, and comfortable-looking, amidst its more squalid +fellows. + +"I think it would be best not to sit down," suggested Blakeney, "and +wiser for you to throw your hood away from your face." + +He seemed to have no fears for himself; many had said that he bore a +charmed life; and yet ever since Admiral Hood had planted his flag on +Toulon Arsenal, the English were more feared than ever, and The Scarlet +Pimpernel more hated than most. + +"You wished to speak to me about Paul Déroulède," he said kindly, seeing +that the young girl was making desperate efforts to say what lay on her +mind. "He is my friend, you know." + +"Yes; that is why I wished to ask you a question," she replied. + +"What is it?" + +"Who is Juliette de Marny, and why did she seek an entrance into Paul's +house?" + +"Did she seek it, then?" + +"Yes; I saw the scene from the balcony. At the time it did not strike me +as a farce. I merely thought that she had been stupid and foolhardy. But +since then I have reflected. She provoked the mob of the street, +wilfully, just at the very moment when she reached M. Déroulède's door. +She meant to appeal to his chivalry, and called for help, well knowing +that he would respond." + +She spoke rapidly and excitedly now, throwing off all shyness and +reserve. Blakeney was forced to check her vehemence, which might have +been thought "suspicious" by some idle citizen unpleasantly inclined. + +"Well? And now?" he asked, for the young girl had paused, as if ashamed +of her excitement. + +"And now she stays in the house, on and on, day after day," continued +Anne Mie, speaking more quietly, though with no less intensity. "Why +does she not go? She is not safe in France. She belongs to the most +hated of all the classes--the idle, rich aristocrats of the old régime. +Paul has several times suggested plans for her emigration to England. +Madame Déroulède, who is an angel, loves her, and would not like to part +from her, but it would be obviously wiser for her to go, and yet she +stays. Why?" + +"Presumably because ..." + +"Because she is in love with Paul?" interrupted Anne Mie vehemently. +"No, no; she does not love him--at least--Oh! sometimes I don't know. +Her eyes light up when he comes, and she is listless when he goes. She +always spends a longer time over her toilet, when we expect him home to +dinner," she added, with a touch of naïve femininity. "But--if it be +love, then that love is strange and unwomanly; it is a love that will +not be for his good ..." + +"Why should you think that?" + +"I don't know," said the girl simply. "Isn't it an instinct?" + +"Not a very unerring one in this case, I fear." + +"Why?" + +"Because your own love for Paul Déroulède has blinded you--- Ah! you +must pardon me, mademoiselle; you sought this conversation and not I, +and I fear me I have wounded you. Yet I would wish you to know how deep +is my sympathy with you, and how great my desire to render you a service +if I could." + +"I was about to ask a service of you, monsieur." + +"Then command me, I beg of you." + +"You are Paul's friend--persuade him that that woman in his house is a +standing danger to his life and liberty." + +"He would not listen to me." + +"Oh! a man always listens to another." + +"Except on one subject--the woman he loves." + +He had said the last words very gently but very firmly. He was deeply, +tenderly sorry for the poor, deformed, fragile girl, doomed to be a +witness of that most heartrending of human tragedies, the passing away +of her own scarce-hoped-for happiness. But he felt that at this moment +the kindest act would be one of complete truth. He knew that Paul +Déroulède's heart was completely given to Juliette de Marny; he too, +like Anne Mie, instinctively mistrusted the beautiful girl and her +strange, silent ways, but, unlike the poor hunchback, he knew that no +sin which Juliette might commit would henceforth tear her from out the +heart of his friend; that if, indeed, she turned out to be false, or +even treacherous, she would, nevertheless, still hold a place in +Déroulède's very soul, which no one else would ever fill. + +"You think he loves her?" asked Anne Mie at last. + +"I am sure of it." + +"And she?" + +"Ah! I do not know. I would trust your instinct--a woman's--sooner than +my own." + +"She is false, I tell you, and is hatching treason against Paul." + +"Then all we can do is to wait." + +"Wait?" + +"And watch carefully, earnestly, all the time. There! shall I pledge you +my word that Déroulède shall come to no harm?" + +"Pledge me your word that you'll part him from that woman." + +"Nay; that is beyond my power. A man like Paul Déroulède only loves once +in life, but when he does, it is for always." + +Once more she was silent, pressing her lips closely together, as if +afraid of what she might say. + +He saw that she was bitterly disappointed, and sought for a means of +tempering the cruelty of the blow. + +"It will be your task to watch over Paul," he said; "with your +friendship to guard and protect him, we need have no fear for his +safety, I think." + +"I will watch," she replied quietly. + +Gradually he had led her steps back towards the Rue Ecole de Médecine. + +A great melancholy had fallen over his bold, adventurous spirit. How +full of tragedies was this great city, in the last throes of its insane +and cruel struggle for an unattainable goal. And yet, despite its +guillotine and mock trials, its tyrannical laws and overfilled prisons, +its very sorrows paled before the dead, dull misery of this deformed +girl's heart. + +A wild exaltation, a fever of enthusiasm lent glamour to the scenes +which were daily enacted on the Place de la Revolution, turning the +final acts of the tragedies into glaring, lurid melodrama, almost unreal +in its poignant appeal to the sensibilities. + +But here there was only this dead, dull misery, an aching heart, a poor, +fragile creature in the throes of an agonised struggle for a +fast-disappearing happiness. + +Anne Mie hardly knew now what she had hoped, when she sought this +interview with Sir Percy Blakeney. Drowning in a sea of hopelessness, +she had clutched at what might prove a chance of safety. Her reason told +her that Paul's friend was right. Déroulède was a man who would love but +once in his life. He had never loved--for he had too much pitied--poor, +pathetic little Anne Mie. + +Nay; why should we say that love and pity are akin? + +Love, the great, the strong, the conquering god--Love that subdues a +world, and rides roughshod over principle, virtue, tradition, over home, +kindred, and religion--what cares he for the easy conquest of the +pathetic being, who appeals to his sympathy? + +Love means equality--the same height of heroism or of sin. When Love +stoops to pity, he has ceased to soar in the boundless space, that +rarefied atmosphere wherein man feels himself made at last truly in the +image of God. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Jealousy. + + +At the door of her home Blakeney parted from Anne Mie, with all the +courtesy with which he would have bade adieu to the greatest lady in his +own land. + +Anne Mie let herself into the house with her own latch-key. She closed +the heavy door noiselessly, then glided upstairs like a quaint little +ghost. + +But on the landing above she met Paul Déroulède. + +He had just come out of his room, and was still fully dressed. + +"Anne Mie!" he said, with such an obvious cry of pleasure, that the +young girl, with beating heart, paused a moment on the top of the +stairs, as if hoping to hear that cry again, feeling that indeed he was +glad to see her, had been uneasy because of her long absence. + +"Have I made you anxious?" she asked at last. + +"Anxious!" he exclaimed. "Little one, I have hardly lived this last +hour, since I realised that you had gone out so late as this, and all +alone." + +"How did you know?" + +"Mademoiselle de Marny knocked at my door an hour ago. She had gone to +your room to see you, and, not finding you there, she searched the house +for you, and finally, in her anxiety, came to me. We did not dare to +tell my mother. I won't ask you where you have been, Anne Mie, but +another time, remember, little one, that the streets of Paris are not +safe, and that those who love you suffer deeply, when they know you to +be in peril." + +"Those who love me!" murmured the girl under her breath. + +"Could you not have asked me to come with you?" + +"No; I wanted to be alone. The streets were quite safe, and--I wanted to +speak with Sir Percy Blakeney." + +"With Blakeney?" he exclaimed in boundless astonishment. "Why, what in +the world did you want to say him?" + +The girl, so unaccustomed to lying, had blurted out the truth, almost +against her will. + +"I thought he could help me, as I was much perturbed and restless." + +"You went to him sooner than to me?" said Déroulède in a tone of gentle +reproach, and still puzzled at this extraordinary action on the part of +the girl, usually so shy and reserved. + +"My anxiety was about you, and you would have mocked me for it." + +"Indeed, I should never mock you, Anne Mie. But why should you be +anxious about me?" + +"Because I see you wandering blindly on the brink of a great danger, and +because I see you confiding in those, whom you had best mistrust." + +He frowned a little, and bit his lip to check the rough word that was on +the tip of his tongue. + +"Is Sir Percy Blakeney one of those whom I had best mistrust?" he said +lightly. + +"No," she answered curtly. + +"Then, dear, there is no cause for unrest. He is the only one of my +friends whom you have not known intimately. All those who are round me +now, you know that you can trust and that you can love," he added +earnestly and significantly. + +He took her hand; it was trembling with obvious suppressed agitation. +She knew that he had guessed what was passing in her mind, and now was +deeply ashamed of what she had done. She had been tortured with jealousy +for the past three weeks, but at least she had suffered quite alone: no +one had been allowed to touch that wound, which more often than not, +excites derision rather than pity. Now, by her own actions, two men knew +her secret. Both were kind and sympathetic; but Déroulède resented her +imputations, and Blakeney had been unable to help her. + +A wave of morbid introspection swept over her soul. She realised in a +moment how petty and base had been her thoughts and how purposeless her +actions. She would have given her life at this moment to eradicate from +Déroulède's mind the knowledge of her own jealousy; she hoped that at +least he had not guessed her love. + +She tried to read his thoughts, but in the dark passage, only dimly +lighted by the candles in Déroulède's room beyond, she could not see the +expression of his face, but the hand which held hers was warm and +tender. She felt herself pitied, and blushed at the thought. With a +hasty good-night she fled down the passage, and locked herself in her +room, alone with her own thoughts at last. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Denunciation. + + +But what of Juliette? + +What of this wild, passionate, romantic creature tortured by a Titanic +conflict? She, but a girl, scarcely yet a woman, torn by the greatest +antagonistic powers that ever fought for a human soul. On the one side +duty, tradition, her dead brother, her father--above all, her religion +and the oath she had sworn before God; on the other justice and honour, +a case of right and wrong, honesty and pity. + +How she fought with these powers now! + +She fought with them, struggled with them on her knees. She tried to +crush memory, tried to forget that awful midnight scene ten years ago, +her brother's dead body, her father's avenging hand holding her own, as +he begged her to do that, which he was too feeble, too old to +accomplish. + +His words rang in her ears from across that long vista of the past. + +"Before the face of Almighty God, who sees and hears me, I swear ..." + +And she had repeated those words loudly and of her own free will, with +her hand resting on her brother's breast, and God Himself looking down +upon her, for she had called upon Him to listen. + +"I swear that I will seek out Paul Déroulède, and in any manner which +God may dictate to me encompass his death, his ruin, or dishonour in +revenge for my brother's death. May my brother's soul remain in torment +until the final Judgment Day if I should break my oath, but may it rest +in eternal peace, the day on which his death is fitly avenged." + +Almost it seemed to her as if father and brother were standing by her +side, as she knelt and prayed.--Oh! how she prayed! + +In many ways she was only a child. All her years had been passed in +confinement, either beside her dying father or, later, between the four +walls of the Ursuline Convent. And during those years her soul had been +fed on a contemplative, ecstatic religion, a kind of sanctified +superstition, which she would have deemed sacrilege to combat. + +Her first step into womanhood was taken with that oath upon her lips; +since then, with a stoical sense of duty, she had lashed herself into a +daily, hourly remembrance of the great mission imposed upon her. + +To have neglected it would have been, to her, equal to denying God. + +She had but vague ideas of the doctrinal side of religion. Purgatory was +to her merely a word, but a word representing a real spiritual +state--one of expectancy, of restlessness, of sorrow. And vaguely, yet +determinedly, she believed that her brother's soul suffered, because she +had been too weak to fulfil her oath. + +The Church had not come to her rescue. The ministers of her religion +were scattered to the four corners of besieged, agonising France. She +had no one to help her, no one to comfort her. That very peaceful, +contemplative life she had led in the convent, only served to enhance +her feeling of the solemnity of her mission. + +It was true, it was inevitable, because it was so hard. + +To the few who, throughout those troublous times, had kept a feeling of +veneration for their religion, this religion had become one of +abnegation and martyrdom. + +A spirit of uncompromising Jansenism seemed to call forth sacrifices and +renunciation, whereas the happy-go-lucky Catholicism of the past century +had only suggested an easy, flowered path, to a comfortable, +well-upholstered heaven. + +The harder the task seemed which was set before her, the more real it +became to Juliette. God, she firmly believed, had at last, after ten +years, shown her the way to wreak vengeance upon her brother's murderer. +He had brought her to this house, caused her to see and hear part of the +conversation between Blakeney and Déroulède, and this at the moment of +all others, when even the semblance of a conspiracy against the Republic +would bring the one inevitable result in its train: disgrace first, the +hasty mock trial, the hall of justice, and the guillotine. + +She tried not to hate Déroulède. She wished to judge him coldly and +impartially, or rather to indict him before the throne of God, and to +punish him for the crime he had committed ten years ago. Her personal +feelings must remain out of the question. + +Had Charlotte Corday considered her own sensibilities, when with her own +hand she put an end to Marat? + +Juliette remained on her knees for hours. She heard Anne Mie come home, +and Déroulède's voice of welcome on the landing. This was perhaps the +most bitter moment of this awful soul conflict, for it brought to her +mind the remembrance of those others who would suffer too, and who were +innocent--Madame Déroulède and poor, crippled Anne Mie. They had done no +wrong, and yet how heavily would they be punished! + +And then the saner judgment, the human, material code of ethics gained +for a while the upper hand. Juliette would rise from her knees, dry her +eyes, prepare quietly to go to bed, and to forget all about the awful, +relentless Fate which dragged her to the fulfilment of its will, and +then sink back, broken-hearted, murmuring impassioned prayers for +forgiveness to her father, her brother, her God. + +The soul was young and ardent, and it fought for abnegation, martyrdom, +and stern duty; the body was childlike, and it fought for peace, +contentment, and quiet reason. + +The rational body was conquered by the passionate, powerful soul. + +Blame not the child, for in herself she was innocent. She was but +another of the many victims of this cruel, mad, hysterical time, that +spirit of relentless tyranny, forcing its doctrines upon the weak. + +With the first break of dawn Juliette at last finally rose from her +knees, bathed her burning eyes and head, tidied her hair and dress, then +she sat down at the table, and began to write. + +She was a transformed being now, no longer a child, essentially a +woman--a Joan of Arc with a mission, a Charlotte Corday going to +martyrdom, a human, suffering, erring soul, committing a great crime for +the sake of an idea. + +She wrote out carefully and with a steady hand the denunciation of +Citizen-Deputy Déroulède which has become an historical document, and is +preserved in the chronicles of France. + +You have all seen it at the Musée Carnavalet in its glass case, its +yellow paper and faded ink revealing nothing of the soul conflict of +which it was the culminating victory. The cramped, somewhat +schoolgirlish writing is the mute, pathetic witness of one of the +saddest tragedies, that era of sorrow and crime has ever known: + +/* +_To the Representatives of the People now sitting in Assembly at + the National Convention_ + +You trust and believe in the Representative of the people: +Citizen-Deputy Paul Déroulède. He is false, and a traitor to the +Republic. He is planning, and hopes to effect, the release of +ci-devant Marie Antoinette, widow of the traitor Louis Capet. Haste! +ye representatives of the people! proofs of his assertion, papers +and plans, are still in the house of the Citizen-Deputy Déroulède. +This statement is made by one who knows. + +_I. The 23rd Fructidor._ +*/ + +When her letter was written she read it through carefully, made the one +or two little corrections, which are still visible in the document, then +folded her missive, hid it within the folds of her kerchief, and, +wrapping a dark cloak and hood round her, she slipped noiselessly out of +her room. + +The house was all quiet and still. She shuddered a little as the cool +morning air fanned her hot cheeks: it seemed like the breath of ghosts. + +She ran quickly down the stairs, and as rapidly as she could, pushed +back the heavy bolts of the front door, and slipped out into the street. + +Already the city was beginning to stir. There was no time for sleep, +when so much had to be done for the safety of the threatened Republic. +As Juliette turned her steps towards the river, she met the crowd of +workmen, whom France was employing for her defence. + +Behind her, in the Luxembourg Gardens, and all along the opposite bank +of the river, the furnaces were already ablaze, and the smiths at work +forging the guns. + +At every step now Juliette came across the great placards, pinned to the +tall gallows-shaped posts, which proclaim to every passing citizen, that +the people of France are up and in arms. + +Right across the Place de l'Institut a procession of market carts, laden +with vegetables and a little fruit, wends its way slowly towards the +centre of the town. They each carry tiny tricolour flags, with a Pike +and Cap of Liberty surmounting the flagstaff. + +They are good patriots the market-gardeners, who come in daily to feed +the starving mob of Paris, with the few handfuls of watery potatoes, and +miserable, vermin-eaten cabbages, which that fraternal Revolution still +allows them to grow without hindrance. + +Everyone seems busy with their work this early in the morning: the +business of killing does not begin until later in the day. + +For the moment Juliette can get along quite unmolested: the women and +children mostly hurrying on towards the vast encampments in the +Tuileries, where lint, and bandages, and coats for the soldiers are +manufactured all the day. + +The walls of all the houses bear the great patriotic device: "_Liberté, +Egalité, Fraternité, sinon La Mort_"; others are more political in their +proclamation: "_La République une et indivisible_." + +But on the walls of the Louvre, of the great palace of whilom kings, +where the Roi Soleil held his Court, and flirted with the prettiest +women in France, there the new and great Republic has affixed its final +mandate. + +A great poster glued to the wall bears the words: "_La Loi concernan les +Suspects_." Below the poster is a huge wooden box with a slit at the +top. + +This is the latest invention for securing the safety of this one and +indivisible Republic. + +Henceforth everyone becomes a traitor at one word of denunciation from +an idler or an enemy, and, as in the most tyrannical days of the Spanish +Inquisition one-half of the nation was set to spy upon the other, that +wooden box, with its slit, is put there ready to receive denunciations +from one hand against another. + +Had Juliette paused but for the fraction of a second, had she stopped to +read the placard setting forth this odious law, had she only reflected, +then she would even now have turned back, and fled from that gruesome +box of infamies, as she would from a dangerous and noisome reptile or +from the pestilence. + +But her long vigil, her prayers, her ecstatic visions of heroic martyrs +had now completely numbed her faculties. Her vitality, her sensibilities +were gone: she had become an automaton gliding to her doom, without a +thought or a tremor. + +She drew the letter from her bosom, and with a steady hand dropped it +into the box. The irreclaimable had now occurred. Nothing she could +henceforth say or do, no prayers or agonised vigils, no miracles even, +could undo her action or save Paul Déroulède from trial and guillotine. + +One or two groups of people hurrying to their work had seen her drop the +letter into the box. A couple of small children paused, finger in mouth, +gazing at her with inane curiosity; one woman uttered a coarse jest, all +of them shrugged their shoulders, and passed on, on their way. Those who +habitually crossed this spot were used to such sights. + +That wooden box, with its mouthlike slit was like an insatiable monster +that was constantly fed, yet was still gaping for more. + +Having done the deed Juliette turned, and as rapidly as she had come, so +she went back to her temporary home. + +A home no more now; she must leave it at once, to-day if possible. This +much she knew, that she no longer could touch the bread of the man she +had betrayed. She would not appear at breakfast, she could plead a +headache, and in the afternoon Pétronelle should pack her things. + +She turned into a little shop close by, and asked for a glass of milk +and a bit of bread. The woman who served her eyed her with some +curiosity, for Juliette just now looked almost out of her mind. + +She had not yet begun to think, and she had ceased to suffer. + +Both would come presently, and with them the memory of this last +irretrievable hour and a just estimate of what she had done. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"Vengeance is mine." + + +The pretence of a headache enabled Juliette to keep in her room the +greater part of the day. She would have liked to shut herself out from +the entire world during those hours which she spent face to face with +her own thoughts and her own sufferings. + +The sight of Anne Mie's pathetic little face as she brought her food and +delicacies and various little comforts, was positive torture to the +poor, harrowed soul. + +At every sound in the great, silent house she started up, quivering with +apprehension and horror. Had the sword of Damocles, which she herself +had suspended, already fallen over the heads of those who had shown her +nothing but kindness? + +She could not think of Madame Déroulède or of Anne Mie without the most +agonising, the most torturing shame. + +And what of him--the man she had so remorselessly, so ruthlessly +betrayed to a tribunal which would know no mercy? + +Juliette dared not think of him. + +She had never tried to analyse her feelings with regard to him. At the +time of Charlotte Corday's trial, when his sonorous voice rang out in +its pathetic appeal for the misguided woman, Juliette had given him +ungrudging admiration. She remembered now how strongly his magnetic +personality had roused in her a feeling of enthusiasm for the poor girl, +who had come from the depths of her quiet provincial home, in order to +accomplish the horrible deed which would immortalise her name through +all the ages to come, and cause her countrymen to proclaim her "greater +than Brutus." + +Déroulède was pleading for the life of that woman, and it was his very +appeal which had aroused Juliette's dormant energy, for the cause which +her dead father had enjoined her not to forget. It was Déroulède again +whom she had seen but a few weeks ago, standing alone before the mob who +would have torn her to pieces, haranguing them on her behalf, speaking +to them with that quiet, strong voice of his, ruling them with the rule +of love and pity, and turning their wrath to gentleness. + +Did she hate him, then? + +Surely, surely she hated him for having thrust himself into her life, +for having caused her brother's death and covered her father's declining +years with sorrow. And, above all, she hated him--indeed, indeed it was +hate!--for being the cause of this most hideous action of her life: an +action to which she had been driven against her will, one of basest +ingratitude and treachery, foreign to every sentiment within her heart, +cowardly, abject, the unconscious outcome of this strange magnetism +which emanated from him and had cast a spell over her, transforming her +individuality and will power, and making of her an unconscious and +automatic instrument of Fate. + +She would not speak of God's finger again: it was Fate--pagan, devilish +Fate!--the weird, shrivelled women who sit and spin their interminable +thread. They had decreed; and Juliette, unable to fight, blind and +broken by the conflict, had succumbed to the Megaeras and their +relentless wheel. + +At length silence and loneliness became unendurable. She called +Pétronelle, and ordered her to pack her boxes. + +"We leave for England to-day", she said curtly. + +"For England?" gasped the worthy old soul, who was feeling very happy +and comfortable in this hospitable house, and was loth to leave it. "So +soon?" + +"Why, yes; we had talked of it for some time. We cannot remain here +always. My cousins De Crécy are there, and my aunt De Coudremont. We +shall be among friends, Pétronelle, if we ever get there." + +"If we ever get there!" sighed poor Pétronelle; "we have but very little +money, _ma chérie,_ and no passports. Have you thought of asking M. +Déroulède for them?" + +"No, no," rejoined Juliette hastily; "I'll see to the passports somehow, +Pétronelle. Sir Percy Blakeney is English; he'll tell me what to do." + +"Do you know where he lives, my jewel?" + +"Yes; I heard him tell Madame Déroulède last night that he was lodging +with a provincial named Brogard at the Sign of the Cruche Cassée. I'll +go seek him, Pétronelle; I am sure he will help me. The English are so +resourceful and practical. He'll get us our passports, I know, and +advise us as to the best way to proceed. Do you stay here and get all +our things ready. I'll not be long." + +She took up a cloak and hood, and, throwing them over her arm, she +slipped out of the room. + +Déroulède had left the house earlier in the day. She hoped that he had +not yet returned, and ran down the stairs quickly, so that she might go +out unperceived. + +The house was quite peaceful and still. It seemed strange to Juliette +that there did not hang over it some sort of pall-like presentiment of +coming evil. + +From the kitchen, at some little distance from the hall, Anne Mie's +voice was heard singing an old ditty: + +/*[4] + "De ta tige détachée + Pauvre feuille désséchée + Où vas-tu?" +*/ + +Juliette paused a moment. An awful ache had seized her heart; her eyes +unconsciously filled with tears, as they roamed round the walls of this +house which had sheltered her so hospitably, these three weeks past. + +And now whither was she going? Like the poor, dead leaf of the song, she +was wastrel, torn from the parent bough, homeless, friendless, having +turned against the one hand which, in this great time of peril, had been +extended to her in kindness and in love. + +Conscience was beginning to rise up against her, and that hydra-headed +tyrant Remorse. She closed her eyes to shut out the hideous vision of +her crime; she tried to forget this home which her treachery had +desecrated. + +/*[4] + "Je vais où va toute chose + Où va la feuille de rose + Et la feuille de laurier," +*/ + +sang Anne Mie plaintively. + +A great sob broke from Juliette's aching heart. The misery of it all was +more than she could bear. Ah, pity her if you can! She had fought and +striven, and been conquered. A girl's soul is so young, so +impressionable; and she had grown up with that one, awful, all-pervading +idea of duty to accomplish, a most solemn oath to fulfil, one sworn to +her dying father, and on the dead body of her brother. She had begged +for guidance, prayed for release, and the voice from above had remained +silent. Weak, miserable, cringing, the human soul, when torn with +earthly passion, must look at its own strength for the fight. + +And now the end had come. That swift, scarce tangible dream of peace, +which had flitted through her mind during the past few weeks, had +vanished with the dawn, and she was left desolate, alone with her great +sin and its lifelong expiation. + +Scarce knowing what she did, she fell on her knees, there on that +threshold, which she was about to leave for ever. Fate had placed on her +young shoulders a burden too heavy for her to bear. + +"Juliette!" + +At first she did not move. It was his voice coming from the study behind +her. Its magic thrilled her, as it had done that day in the Hall of +Justice. Strong, passionate, tender, it seemed now to raise every echo +of response in her heart. She thought it was a dream, and remained there +on her knees lest it should be dispelled. + +Then she heard his footsteps on the flagstones of the hall. Anne Mie's +plaintive singing had died away in the distance. She started, and jumped +to her feet, hastily drying her eyes. The momentary dream was dispelled, +and she was ashamed of her weakness. + +He, the cause of all her sorrows, of her sin, and of her degradation, +had no right to see her suffer. + +She would have fled out of the house now, but it was too late. He had +come out of his study, and, seeing her there on her knees weeping, he +came quickly forward, trying, with all the innate chivalry of his +upright nature, not to let her see that he had been a witness to her +tears. + +"You are going out, mademoiselle?" he said courteously, as, wrapping her +cloak around her, she was turning towards the door. + +"Yes, yes," she replied hastily; "a small errand, I ..." + +"Is it anything I can do for you?" + +"No." + +"If ..." he added, with visible embarrassment, "if your errand would +brook a delay, might I crave the honour of your presence in my study for +a few moments?" + +"My errand brooks of no delay, Citizen Déroulède," she said as +composedly as she could, "and perhaps on my return I might ..." + +"I am leaving almost directly, mademoiselle, and I would wish to bid you +good-bye." + +He stood aside to allow her to pass, either out, through the street door +or across the hall to his study. + +There had been no reproach in his voice towards the guest, who was thus +leaving him without a word of farewell. Perhaps if there had been any, +Juliette would have rebelled. As it was, an unconquerable magnetism +seemed to draw her towards him, and, making an almost imperceptible sign +of acquiescence, she glided past him into his room. + +The study was dark and cool; for the room faced the west, and the +shutters had been closed, in order to keep out the hot August sun. At +first Juliette could see nothing, but she felt his presence near her, as +he followed her into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. + +"It is kind of you, mademoiselle," he said gently, "to accede to my +request, which was perhaps presumptuous. But, you see, I am leaving this +house to-day, and I had a selfish longing to hear your voice bidding me +farewell." + +Juliette's large, burning eyes were gradually piercing the semi-gloom +around her. She could see him distinctly now, standing close beside her, +in an attitude of the deepest, almost reverential respect. + +The study was as usual neat and tidy, denoting the orderly habits of a +man of action and energy. On the ground there was a valise, ready +strapped as if for a journey, and on the top of it a bulky letter-case +of stout pigskin, secured with a small steel lock. Juliette's eyes +fastened upon this case with a look of fascination and of horror. +Obviously it contained Déroulède's papers, the plans for Marie +Antoinette's escape, the passports of which he had spoken the day before +to his friend, Sir Percy Blakeney--the proofs, in fact, which she had +offered to the representatives of the people, in support of her +denunciation of the Citizen-Deputy. + +After his request he had said nothing more. He was waiting for her to +speak; but her voice felt parched; it seemed to her as if hands of steel +were gripping her throat, smothering the words she would have longed to +speak. + +"Will you not wish me godspeed, mademoiselle?" he repeated gently. + +"Godspeed?" Oh! the awful irony of it all! Should God speed him to a +mock trial and to the guillotine? He was going thither, though he did +not know it, and was even now trying to take the hand which had +deliberately sent him there. + +At last she made an effort to speak, and in a toneless, even voice she +contrived to murmur: + +"You are not going for long, Citizen-Deputy?" + +"In these times, mademoiselle," he replied, "any farewell might be for +ever. But I am actually going for a month to the Conciergerie, to take +charge of the unfortunate prisoner there." + +"For a month!" she repeated mechanically. + +"Oh yes!" he said, with a smile. "You see, our present Government is +afraid that poor Marie Antoinette will exercise her fascinations over +any lieutenant-governor of her prison, if he remain near her long +enough, so a new one is appointed every month. I shall be in charge +during this coming Vendémiaire. I shall hope to return before the +equinox, but--who can tell?" + +"In any case then, Citoyen Déroulède, the farewell I bid you to-night +will be a very long one." + +"A month will seem a century to me," he said earnestly, "since I must +spend it without seeing you, but ..." + +He looked long and searchingly at her. He did not understand her in her +present mood, so scared and wild did she seem, so unlike that girlish, +light-hearted self, which had made the dull old house so bright these +past few weeks. + +"But I should not dare to hope," he murmured, "that a similar reason +would cause you to call that month a long one." + +She turned perhaps a trifle paler than she had been hitherto, and her +eyes roamed round the room like those of a trapped hare seeking to +escape. + +"You misunderstand me, Citoyen Déroulède," she said at last hurriedly. +"You have all been kind--very kind--but Pétronelle and I can no longer +trespass on your hospitality. We have friends in England, and many +enemies here ..." + +"I know," he interrupted quietly; "it would be the most arrant +selfishness on my part to suggest, that you should stay here an hour +longer than necessary. I fear that after to-day my roof may no longer +prove a sheltering one for you. But will you allow me to arrange for +your safety, as I am arranging for that of my mother and Anne Mie? My +English friend Sir Percy Blakeney, has a yacht in readiness off the +Normandy coast. I have already seen to your passports and to all the +arrangements of your journey as far as there, and Sir Percy, or one of +his friends, will see you safely on board the English yacht. He has +given me his promise that he will do this, and I trust him as I would +myself. For the journey through France, my name is a sufficient +guarantee that you will be unmolested; and if you will allow it, my +mother and Anne Mie will travel in your company. Then ..." + +"I pray you stop, Citizen Déroulède," she suddenly interrupted +excitedly. "You must forgive me, but I cannot allow thus to make any +arrangements for me. Pétronelle and I must do as best we can. All your +time and trouble should be spent for the benefit of those who have a +claim upon you, whilst I ..." + +"You speak unkindly, mademoiselle; there is no question of claim." + +"And you have no right to think ..." she continued, with a growing, +nervous excitement, drawing her hand hurriedly away, for he had tried to +seize it. + +"Ah! pardon me," he interrupted earnestly, "there you are wrong. I have +the right to think of you and for you--the inalienable right conferred +upon me by my great love for you." + +"Citizen-Deputy!" + +"Nay, Juliette; I know my folly, and I know my presumption. I know the +pride of your caste and of your party, and how much you despise the +partisan of the squalid mob of France. Have I said that I aspired to +gain your love? I wonder if I have ever dreamed it? I only know, +Juliette, that you are to me something akin to the angels, something +white and ethereal, intangible, and perhaps ununderstandable. Yet, +knowing my folly, I glory in it, my dear, and I would not let you go out +of my life without telling you of that, which has made every hour of the +past few weeks a paradise for me--my love for you, Juliette." + +He spoke in that low, impressive voice of his, and with those soft, +appealing tones with which she had once heard him pleading for poor +Charlotte Corday. Yet now he was not pleading for himself, not for his +selfish wish or for his own happiness, only pleading for his love, that +she should know of it, and, knowing it, have pity in her heart for him, +and let him serve her to the end. + +He did not say anything more for a while; he had taken her hand, which +she no longer withdrew from him, for there was sweet pleasure in feeling +his strong fingers close tremblingly over hers. He pressed his lips upon +her hand, upon the soft palm and delicate wrist, his burning kisses +bearing witness to the tumultuous passion, which his reverence for her +was holding in check. + +She tried to tear herself away from him, but he would not let her go: + +"Do not go away just yet, Juliette," he pleaded. "Think! I may never see +you again; but when you are far from me--in England, perhaps--amongst +your own kith and kin, will you try sometimes to think kindly of one who +so wildly, so madly worships you?" + +She would have stilled, an she could, the beating of her heart, which +went out to him at last with all the passionate intensity of her great, +pent-up love. Every word he spoke had its echo within her very soul, and +she tried not to hear his tender appeal, not to see his dark head +bending in worship before her. She tried to forget his presence, not to +know that he was there--he, the man whom she had betrayed to serve her +own miserable vengeance, whom in her mad, exalted rage she had thought +that she hated, but whom she now knew that she loved better than her +life, better than her soul, her traditions, or her oath. + +Now, at this moment, she made every effort to conjure up the vision of +her brother brought home dead upon a stretcher, of her father's +declining years, rendered hideous by the mind unhinged through the great +sorrow. + +She tried to think of the avenging finger of God pointing the way to the +fulfilment of her oath, and called to Him to stand by her in this +terrible agony of her soul. + +And God spoke to her at last; through the eternal vistas of boundless +universe, from that heaven which had known no pity, His voice came to +her now, clear, awesome, and implacable: + +"Vengeance is mine! I will repay!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +The sword of Damocles. + + +"In the name of the Republic!" + +Absorbed in his thoughts, his dreams, his present happiness, Déroulède +had heard nothing of what was going on in the house, during the past few +seconds. + +At first, to Anne Mie, who was still singing her melancholy ditty over +her work in the kitchen, there had seemed nothing unusual in the +peremptory ring at the front-door bell. She pulled down her sleeves over +her thin arms, smoothed down her cooking apron, then only did she run to +see who the visitor might be. + +As soon as she had opened the door, however, she understood. + +Five men were standing before her, four of whom wore the uniform of the +National Guard, and the fifth, the tricolour scarf fringed with gold, +which denoted service under the Convention. + +This man seemed to be in command of the others, and he immediately +stepped into the hall, followed by his four companions, who at a sign +from him, effectively cut off Anne Mie from what had been her imminent +purpose--namely, to run to the study and warn Déroulède of his danger. + +That it was danger of the most certain, the most deadly kind she never +doubted for one moment. Even had her instinct not warned her, she would +have guessed. One glance at the five men had sufficed to tell her: their +attitude, their curt word of command, their air of authority as they +crossed the hall--everything revealed the purpose of their visit: a +domiciliary search in the house of Citizen-Deputy Déroulède. + +Merlin's Law of the Suspect was in full operation. Someone had denounced +the Citizen-Deputy to the Committee of Public Safety; and in this year +of grace, 1793, and I. of the Revolution, men and women were daily sent +to the guillotine on suspicion. + +Anne Mie would have screamed, had she dared, but instinct such as hers +was far too keen, to betray her into so injudicious an act. She felt +that, were Paul Déroulède's eyes upon her at this moment, he would wish +her to remain calm and outwardly serene. + +The foremost man--he with the tricolour scarf--had already crossed the +hall, and was standing outside the study door. It was his word of +command which first roused Déroulède from his dream: + +"In the name of the Republic!" + +Déroulède did not immediately drop the small hand, which a moment ago he +had been covering with kisses. He held it to his lips once more, very +gently, lingering over this last fond caress, as if over an eternal +farewell, then he straightened out his broad, well-knit figure, and +turned to the door. + +He was very pale, but there was neither fear nor even surprise expressed +in his earnest, deep-set eyes. They still seemed to be looking afar, +gazing upon a heaven-born vision, which the touch of her hand and the +avowal of his love had conjured up before him. + +"In the name of the Republic!" + +Once more, for the third time--according to custom--the words rang out, +clear, distinct, peremptory. + +In that one fraction of a second, whilst those six words were spoken, +Déroulède's eyes wandered swiftly towards the heavy letter-case, which +now held his condemnation, and a wild, mad thought--the mere animal +desire to escape from danger--surged up in his brain. + +The plans for the escape of Marie Antoinette, the various passports, +worded in accordance with the possible disguises the unfortunate Queen +might assume--all these papers were more than sufficient proof of what +would be termed his treason against the Republic. + +He could already hear the indictment against him, could see the filthy +mob of Paris dancing a wild saraband round the tumbril, which bore him +towards the guillotine; he could hear their yells of execration, could +feel the insults hurled against him, by those who had most admired, most +envied him. And from all this he would have escaped if he could, if it +had not been too late. + +It was but a second, or less, whilst the words were spoken outside his +door, and whilst all other thoughts in him were absorbed in this one mad +desire for escape. He even made a movement, as if to snatch up the +letter-case and to hide it about his person. But it was heavy and bulky; +it would be sure to attract attention, and might bring upon him the +additional indignity of being forced to submit to a personal search. + +He caught Juliette's eyes fixed upon him with an intensity of gaze +which, in that same one mad moment, revealed to him the depths of her +love. Then the second's weakness was gone; he was once more quiet, firm, +the man of action, accustomed to meet danger boldly, to rule and to +subdue the most turgid mob. + +With a quiet shrug of the shoulders, he dismissed all thought of the +compromising lettercase, and went to the door. + +Already, as no reply had come to the third word of command, it had been +thrown open from outside, and Déroulède found himself face to face with +the five men. + +"Citizen Merlin!" he said quietly, as he recognised the foremost among +them. + +"Himself, Citizen-Deputy," rejoined the latter, with a sneer, "at your +service." + +Anne Mie, in a remote corner of the hall, had heard the name, and felt +her very soul sicken at its sound. + +Merlin! Author of that infamous Law of the Suspect which had set man +against man, a father against his son, brother against brother, and +friend against friend, had made of every human creature a bloodhound on +the track of his fellowmen, dogging in order not to be dogged, +denouncing, spying, hounding, in order not to be denounced. + +And he, Merlin, gloried in this, the most fiendishly evil law ever +perpetrated for the degradation of the human race. + +There is that sketch of him in the Musée Carnavalet, drawn just before +he, in his turn, went to expiate his crimes on that very guillotine, +which he had sharpened and wielded so powerfully against his fellows. +The artist has well caught the slouchy, slovenly look of his loosely +knit figure, his long limbs and narrow head, with the snakelike eyes and +slightly receding chin. Like Marat, his model and prototype, Merlin +affected dirty, ragged clothes. The real Sanscullottism, the downward +levelling of his fellowmen to the lowest rung of the social ladder, +pervaded every action of this noted product of the great Revolution. + +Even Déroulède, whose entire soul was filled with a great, +all-understanding pity for the weaknesses of mankind, recoiled at sight +of this incarnation of the spirit of squalor and degradation, of all +that was left of the noble Utopian theories of the makers of the +Revolution. + +Merlin grinned when he saw Déroulède standing there, calm, impassive, +well dressed, as if prepared to receive an honoured guest, rather than a +summons to submit to the greatest indignity a proud man has ever been +called upon to suffer. + +Merlin had always hated the popular Citizen-Deputy. Friend and +boon-companion of Marat and his gang, he had for over two years now +exerted all the influence he possessed in order to bring Déroulède under +a cloud of suspicion. + +But Déroulède had the ear of the populace. No one understood as he did +the tone of a Paris mob; and the National Convention, ever terrified of +the volcano it had kindled, felt that a popular member of its assembly +was more useful alive than dead. + +But now at last Merlin was having his way. An anonymous denunciation +against Déroulède had reached the Public Prosecutor that day. Tinville +and Merlin were the fastest of friends, so the latter easily obtained +the privilege of being the first to proclaim to his hated enemy, the +news of his downfall. + +He stood facing Déroulède for a moment, enjoying the present situation +to its full. The light from the vast hall struck full upon the powerful +figure of the Citizen-Deputy and upon his firm, dark face and magnetic, +restless eyes. Behind him the study, with its closely-drawn shutters, +appeared wrapped in gloom. + +Merlin turned to his men, and, still delighted with his position of a +cat playing with a mouse, he pointed to Déroulède, with a smile and a +shrug of the shoulders. + +"_Voyez-moi donc çà,_" he said, with a coarse jest, and expectorating +contemptuously upon the floor, "the aristocrat seems not to understand +that we are here in the name of the Republic. There is a very good +proverb, Citizen-Deputy," he added, once more addressing Déroulède, +"which you seem to have forgotten, and that is that the pitcher which +goes too often to the well breaks at last. You have conspired against +the liberties of the people for the past ten years. Retribution has come +to you at last; the people of France have come to their senses. The +National Convention wants to know what treason you are hatching between +these four walls, and it has deputed me to find out all there is to +know." + +"At your service, Citizen-Deputy!" said Déroulède, quietly stepping +aside, in order to make way for Merlin and his men. + +Resistance was useless, and, like all strong, determined natures, he +knew when it was best to give in. + +During this while, Juliette had neither moved nor uttered a sound. +Little more than a minute had elapsed since the moment when the first +peremptory order, to open in the name of the Republic, had sounded like +the tocsin through the stillness of the house. Déroulède's kisses were +still hot upon her hand, his words of love were still ringing in her +ears. + +And now this awful, deadly peril, which she with her own hand had +brought on the man she loved! + +If in one moment's anguish the soul be allowed to expiate a lifelong +sin, then indeed did Juliette atone during this one terrible second. + +Her conscience, her heart, her entire being rose in revolt against her +crime. Her oath, her life, her final denunciation appeared before her in +all their hideousness. + +And now it was too late. + +Déroulède stood facing Merlin, his most implacable enemy. The latter was +giving orders to his men, preparatory to searching the house, and there, +just on the top of the valise, lay the letter-case, obviously containing +those papers, to which the day before she had overheard Déroulède making +allusion, whilst he spoke to his friend, Sir Percy Blakeney. + +An unexplainable instinct seemed to tell her that the papers were in +that case. Her eyes were riveted on it, as if fascinated. An awful +terror held her enthralled for one second more, whilst her thoughts, her +longings, her desires were all centred on the safety of that one thing. + +The next instant she had seized it and thrown it upon the sofa. Then +seating herself beside it, with the gesture of a queen and the grace of +a Parisienne, she had spread the ample folds of her skirts over the +compromising case, hiding it entirely from view. + +Merlin in the hall was ordering two men to stand one on each side of +Déroulède, and two more to follow him into the room. Now he entered it +himself, his narrow eyes trying to pierce the semi-obscurity, which was +rendered more palpable by the brilliant light in the hall. + +He had not seen Juliette's gesture, but he had heard the _frou-frou_ of +her skirts, as she seated herself upon the sofa. + +"You are not alone Citizen-Deputy, I see," he said, with a sneer, as his +snakelike eyes lighted upon the young girl. + +"My guest, Citizen Merlin," replied Déroulède as calmly as he +could--"Citizen Juliette Marny. I know that it is useless, under these +circumstances, to ask for consideration for a woman, but I pray you to +remember, as far as is possible, that although we are all Republicans, +we are also Frenchmen, and all still equal in our sentiment of chivalry +towards our mothers, our sisters, or our guests." + +Merlin chuckled, and gazed for a moment ironically at Juliette. He had +held, between his talon-like fingers, that very morning, a thin scrap of +paper, on which a schoolgirlish hand had scrawled the denunciation +against Citizen-Deputy Déroulède. + +Coarse in nature, and still coarser in thoughts, this representative of +the people had very quickly arrived at a conclusion in his mind, with +regard to this so-called guest in the Déroulède household. + +"A discarded mistress," he muttered to himself. "Just had another scene, +I suppose. He's got tired of her, and she's given him away out of +spite." + +Satisfied with this explanation of the situation, he was quite inclined +to be amiable to Juliette. Moreover, he had caught sight of the valise, +and almost thought that the young girl's eyes had directed his attention +towards it. + +"Open those shutters!" he commanded, "this place is like a vault." + +One of the men obeyed immediately, and as the brilliant August sun came +streaming into the room, Merlin once more turned to Déroulède. + +"Information has been laid against you, Citizen-Deputy," he said, "by an +anonymous writer, who states that you have just now in your possession +correspondence or other papers intended for the Widow Capet: and the +Committee of Public Safety has entrusted me and these citizens to seize +such correspondence, and make you answerable for its presence in your +house." + +Déroulède hesitated for one brief fraction of a second. As soon as the +shutters had been opened, and the room flooded in daylight, he had at +once perceived that his letter-case had disappeared, and guessed, from +Juliette's attitude upon the sofa, that she had concealed it about her +person. It was this which caused him to hesitate. + +His heart was filled with boundless gratitude to her for her noble +effort to save him, but he would have given his life at this moment, to +undo what she had done. + +The Terrorists were no respecters of persons or of sex. A domicillary +search order, in those days, conferred full powers on those in +authority, and Juliette might at any moment now be peremptorily ordered +to rise. Through her action she had made herself one with the +Citizen-Deputy; if the case were found under the folds of her skirts, +she would be accused of connivance, or at any rate of the equally grave +charge of shielding a traitor. + +The manly pride in him rebelled at the thought of owing his immediate +safety to a woman, yet he could not now discard her help, without +compromising her irretrievably. + +He dared not even to look again towards her, for he felt that at this +moment her life as well as his own lay in the quiver of an eyelid; and +Merlin's keen, narrow eyes were fixed upon him in eager search for a +tremor, a flash, which might betray fear or prove an admission of guilt. + +Juliette sat there, calm, impassive, disdainful, and she seemed to +Déroulède more angelic, more unattainable even than before. He could +have worshipped her for her heroism, her resourcefulness, her quiet +aloofness from all these coarse creatures who filled the room with the +odour of their dirty clothes, with their rough jests, and their noisome +suggestions. + +"Well, Citizen-Deputy," sneered Merlin after a while, "you do not reply, +I notice." + +"The insinuation is unworthy of a reply, citizen," replied Déroulède +quietly; "my services to the Republic are well known. I should have +thought that the Committee of Public Safety would disdain an anonymous +denunciation against a faithful servant of the people of France." + +"The Committee of Public Safety knows its own business best, +Citizen-Deputy," rejoined Merlin roughly. "If the accusation prove a +calumny, so much the better for you. I presume," he added with a sneer, +"that you do not propose to offer any resistance whilst these citizens +and I search your house." + +Without another word Déroulède handed a bunch of keys to the man by his +side. Every kind of opposition, argument even, would be worse than +useless. + +Merlin had ordered the valise and desk to be searched, and two men were +busy turning out the contents of both on to the floor. But the desk now +only contained a few private household accounts, and notes for the +various speeches which Déroulède had at various times delivered in the +assemblies of the National Convention. Among these, a few pencil +jottings for his great defence of Charlotte Corday were eagerly seized +upon by Merlin, and his grimy, clawlike hands fastened upon this scrap +of paper, as upon a welcome prey. + +But there was nothing else of any importance. Déroulède was a man of +thought and of action, with all the enthusiasm of real conviction, but +none of the carelessness of a fanatic. The papers which were contained +in the letter-case, and which he was taking with him to the +Conciergerie, he considered were necessary to the success of his plans, +otherwise he never would have kept them, and they were the only proofs +that could be brought up against him. + +The valise itself was only packed with the few necessaries for a month's +sojourn at the Conciergerie; and the men, under Merlin's guidance, were +vainly trying to find something, anything that might be construed into +treasonable correspondence with the unfortunate prisoner there. + +Merlin, whilst his men were busy with the search, was sprawling in one +of the big leather-covered chairs, on the arms of which his dirty +finger-nails were beating an impatient devil's tattoo. He was at no +pains to conceal the intense disappointment which he would experience, +were his errand to prove fruitless. + +His narrow eyes every now and then wandered towards Juliette, as if +asking for her help and guidance. She, understanding his frame of mind, +responded to the look. Shutting her mentality off from the coarse +suggestion of his attitude towards her, she played her part with +cunning, and without flinching. With a glance here and there, she +directed the men in their search. Déroulède himself could scarcely +refrain from looking at her; he was puzzled, and vaguely marvelled at +the perfection, with which she carried through her rôle to the end. + +Merlin found himself baffled. + +He knew quite well that Citizen-Deputy Déroulède was not a man to be +lightly dealt with. No mere suspicion or anonymous denunciation would be +sufficient in his case, to bring him before the tribunal of the +Revolution. Unless there were proofs--positive, irrefutable, damnable +proofs--of Paul Déroulède's treachery, the Public Prosecutor would never +dare to frame an indictment against him. The mob of Paris would rise to +defend its idol; the hideous hags, who plied their knitting at the foot +of the scaffold, would tear the guillotine down, before they would allow +Déroulède to mount it. + +This was Déroulède's stronghold: the people of Paris, whom he had loved +through all their infamies, and whom he had succoured and helped in +their private need; and above all the women of Paris, whose children he +had caused to be tended in the hospitals which he had built for +them--this they had not yet forgotten, and Merlin knew it. One day they +would forget--soon, perhaps--then they would turn on their former idol, +and, howling, send him to his death, amidst cries of rancour and +execration. When that day came there would be no need to worry about +treason or about proofs. When the populace had forgotten all that he had +done, then Déroulède would fall. + +But that time was not yet. + +The men had finished ransacking the room; every scrap of paper, every +portable article had been eagerly seized upon. + +Merlin, half blind with fury, had jumped to his feet. + +"Search him!" he ordered peremptorily. + +Déroulède set his teeth, and made no protest, calling up every fibre of +moral strength within him, to aid him in submitting to this indignity. +At a coarse jest from Merlin, he buried his nails into the palms of his +hand, not to strike the foulmouthed creature in the face. But he +submitted, and stood impassive by, whilst the pockets of his coat were +turned inside out by the rough hands of the soldiers. + +All the while Juliette had remained silent, watching Merlin as any hawk +would its prey. But the Terrorist, through the very coarseness of his +nature, was in this case completely fooled. + +He knew that it was Juliette who had denounced Déroulède, and had +satisfied himself as to her motive. Because he was low and brutish and +degraded, he never once suspected the truth, never saw in that beautiful +young woman, anything of the double nature within her, of that curious, +self-torturing, at times morbid sense of religion and of duty, at war +with her own upright, innately healthy disposition. + +The low-born, self-degraded Terrorist had put his own construction on +Juliette's action, and with this he was satisfied, since it answered to +his own estimate of the human race, the race which he was doing his best +to bring down to the level of the beast. + +Therefore Merlin did not interfere with Juliette, but contented himself +with insinuating, by jest and action, what her share in this day's work +had been. To these hints Déroulède, of course, paid no heed. For him +Juliette was as far above political intrigue as the angels. He would as +soon have suspected one of the saints enshrined in Notre Dame as this +beautiful, almost ethereal creature, who had been sent by Heaven to +gladden his heart and to elevate his very thought. + +But Juliette understood Merlin's attitude, and guessed that her written +denunciation had come into his hands. Her every thought, every living +sensation within her, was centred in this one thing: to save the man she +loved from the consequences of her own crime against him. And for this, +even the shadow of suspicion must be removed from him. Merlin's +iniquitous law should not touch him again. + +When Déroulède at last had been released, after the outrage to which he +had been personally subjected, Merlin was literally, and figuratively +too, looking about him for an issue to his present dubious position. + +Judging others by his own standard of conduct, he feared now that the +popular Citizen-Deputy would incite the mob against him, in revenge for +the indignities which he had had to suffer. And with it all the +Terrorist was convinced that Déroulède was guilty, that proofs of his +treason did exist, if only he knew where to lay hands on them. + +He turned to Juliette with an unexpressed query in his adder-like eyes. +She shrugged her shoulders, and made a gesture as if pointing towards +the door. + +"There are other rooms in the house besides this," her gesture seemed to +say; "try them. The proofs are there, 'tis for you to find them." + +Merlin had been standing between her and Déroulède, so that the latter +saw neither query nor reply. + +"You are cunning, Citizen-Deputy," said Merlin now, turning towards him, +"and no doubt you have been at pains to put your treasonable +correspondence out of the way. You must understand that the Committee of +Public Safety will not be satisfied with a mere examination of your +study," he added, assuming an air of ironical benevolence, "and I +presume you will have no objection, if I and these citizen soldiers pay +a visit to other portions of your house." + +"As you please," responded Déroulède drily. + +"You will accompany us, Citizen-Deputy," commanded the other curtly. + +The four men of the National Guard formed themselves into line outside +the study door; with a peremptory nod, Merlin ordered Déroulède to pass +between them, then he too prepared to follow. At the door he turned, and +once more faced Juliette. + +"As for you, citizeness," he said, with a sudden access of viciousness +against her, "if you have brought us here on a fool's errand, it will go +ill with you, remember. Do not leave the house until our return. I may +have some questions to put to you." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Tangled meshes. + + +Juliette waited a moment or two, until the footsteps of the six men died +away up the massive oak stairs. + +For the first time, since the sword of Damocles had fallen, she was +alone with her thoughts. + +She had but a few moments at her command in which to devise an issue out +of these tangled meshes, which she had woven round the man she loved. + +Merlin and his men would return anon. The comedy could not be kept up +through another visit from them, and while the compromising letter-case +remained in Déroulède's private study he was in imminent danger at the +hands of his enemy. + +She thought for a moment of concealing the case about her person, but a +second's reflection showed her the futility of such a move. She had not +seen the papers themselves; any one of them might be an absolute proof +of Déroulède's guilt; the correspondence might be in his handwriting. + +If Merlin, furious, baffled, vicious, were to order her to be searched! +The horror of the indignity made her shudder, but she would have +submitted to that, if thereby she could have saved Déroulède. But of +this she could not be sure until after she had looked through the +papers, and this she had not the time to do. + +Her first and greatest idea was to get out of this room, his private +study, with the compromising papers. Not a trace of them must be found +here, if he were to remain beyond suspicion. + +She rose from the sofa, and peeped through the door. The hall was now +deserted; from the left wing of the house, on the floor above, the heavy +footsteps of the soldiers and Merlin's occasional brutish laugh could be +distinctly heard. + +Juliette listened for a moment, trying to understand what was happening. +Yes; they had all gone to Déroulède's bedroom, which was on the extreme +left, at the end of the first-floor landing. There might be just time to +accomplish what she had now resolved to do. + +As best she could, she hid the bulky leather case in the folds of her +skirt. It was literally neck or nothing now. If she were caught on the +stairs by one of the men nothing could save her or--possibly--Déroulède. + +At any rate, by remaining where she was, by leaving the events to shape +themselves, discovery was absolutely certain. She chose to take the +risk. + +She slipped noiselessly out of the room and up the great oak stairs. +Merlin and his men, busy with their search in Déroulède's bedroom, took +no heed of what was going on behind them; Juliette arrived on the +landing, and turned sharply to her right, running noiselessly along the +thick Aubusson carpet, and thence quickly to her own room. + +All this had taken less than a minute to accomplish. The very next +moment she heard Merlin's voice ordering one of his men to stand at +attention on the landing, but by that time she was safe inside her room. +She closed the door noiselessly. + +Pétronelle, who had been busy all the afternoon packing up her young +mistress' things, had fallen asleep in an arm-chair. Unconscious of the +terrible events which were rapidly succeeding each other in the house, +the worthy old soul was snoring peaceably, with her hands complacently +folded on her ample bosom. + +Juliette, for the moment, took no notice of her. As quickly and as +dexterously as she could, she was tearing open the heavy leather case +with a sharp pair of scissors, and very soon its contents were scattered +before her on the table. + +One glance at them was sufficient to convince her that most of the +papers would undoubtedly, if found, send Déroulède to the guillotine. +Most of the correspondence was in the Citizen-Deputy's handwriting. She +had, of course, no time to examine it more closely, but instinct +naturally told her that it was of a highly compromising character. + +She gathered the papers up into a heap, tearing some of them up into +strips; then she spread them out upon the ash-pan in front of the large +earthenware stove, which stood in a corner of the room. + +Unfortunately, this was a hot day in August. Her task would have been +far easier if she had wished to destroy a bundle of papers in the depth +of winter, when there was a good fire burning in the stove. + +But her purpose was firm and her incentive, the greatest that has ever +spurred mankind to heroism. + +Regardless of any consequences to herself, she had but the one object in +view, to save Déroulède at all costs. + +On the wall facing her bed, and immediately above a velvet-covered +prie-dieu, there was a small figure of the Virgin and Child--one of +those quaintly pretty devices for holding holy water, which the reverent +superstition of the past century rendered a necessary adjunct of every +girl's room. + +In front of the figure a small lamp was kept perpetually burning. This +Juliette now took between her fingers, carefully, lest the tiny flame +should die out. First she poured the oil over the fragments of paper in +the ash-pan, then with the wick she set fire to the whole compromising +correspondence. + +The oil helped the paper to burn quickly; the smell, or perhaps the +presence of Juliette in the room caused worthy old Pétronelle to wake. + +"It's nothing, Pétronelle," said Juliette quietly; "only a few old +letters I am burning. But I want to be alone for a few moments--will you +go down to the kitchen until I call you?" + +Accustomed to do as her young mistress commanded, Pétronelle rose +without a word. + +"I have finished putting away your few things, my jewel. There, there! +why didn't you tell me to burn your papers for you? You have soiled your +dear hands, and ..." + +"Sh! Sh! Pétronelle!" said Juliette impatiently, and gently pushing the +garrulous old woman towards the door. "Run to the kitchen now quickly, +and don't come out of it until I call you. And, Pétronelle," she added, +"you will see soldiers about the house perhaps." + +"Soldiers! The good God have mercy!" + +"Don't be frightened, Pétronelle. But they may ask you questions." + +"Questions?" + +"Yes; about me." + +"My treasure, my jewel," exclaimed Pétronelle in alarm, "have those +devils ...?" + +"No, no; nothing has happened as yet, but, you know, in these times +there is always danger." + +"Good God! Holy Mary! Mother of God!" + +"Nothing 'll happen if you try to keep quite calm and do exactly as I +tell you. Go to the kitchen, and wait there until I call you. If the +soldiers come in and question you, if they try to frighten you, remember +that we have nothing to fear from men, and that our lives are in God's +keeping." + +All the while that Juliette spoke, she was watching the heap of paper +being gradually reduced to ashes. She tried to fan the flames as best +she could, but some of the correspondence was on tough paper, and was +slow in being consumed. Pétronelle, tearful but obedient, prepared to +leave the room. She was overawed by her mistress' air of aloofness, the +pale face rendered ethereally beautiful by the sufferings she had gone +through. The eyes glowed large and magnetic, as if in presence of +spiritual visions beyond mortal ken; the golden hair looked like a +saintly halo above the white, immaculate young brow. + +Pétronelle made the sign of the cross, as if she were in the presence of +a saint. + +As she opened the door there was a sudden draught, and the last +flickering flame died out in the ash-pan. Juliette, seeing that +Pétronelle had gone, hastily turned over the few half burnt fragments of +paper that were left. In none of them had the writing remained legible. +All that was compromising to Déroulède was effectually reduced to dust. +The small wick in the lamp at the foot of the Virgin and Child had +burned itself out for want of oil; there was no means for Juliette to +strike another light and to destroy what remained. The leather case was, +of course, still there, with its sides ripped open, an indestructible +thing. + +There was nothing to be done about that. Juliette after a second's +hesitation threw it among her dresses in the valise. + +Then she too went out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A happy moment. + + +The search in the Citizen-Deputy's bedroom had proved as fruitless as +that in his study. Merlin was beginning to have vague doubts as to +whether he had been effectively fooled. + +His manner towards Déroulède had undergone a change. He had become suave +and unctuous, a kind of elephantine irony pervading his laborious +attempts at conciliation. He and the Public Prosecutor would be severely +blamed for this day's work, if the popular Deputy, relying upon the +support of the people of Paris, chose to take his revenge. + +In France, in this glorious year of the Revolution, there was but one +step between censure and indictment. And Merlin knew it. Therefore, +although he had not given up all hope of finding proofs of Déroulède's +treason, although by the latter's attitude he remained quite convinced +that such proof did exist, he was already reckoning upon the cat's paw, +the sop he would offer to that Cerberus, the Committee of Public Safety, +in exchange for his own exculpation in the matter. + +This sop would be Juliette, the denunciator instead of Déroulède the +denounced. + +But he was still seeking for the proofs. + +Somewhat changing his tactics, he had allowed Déroulède to join his +mother in the living-room, and had betaken himself to the kitchen in +search of Anne Mie, whom he had previously caught sight of in the hall. +There he also found old Pétronelle, whom he could scare out of her wits +to his heart's content, but from whom he was quite unable to extract any +useful information. Pétronelle was too stupid to be dangerous, and Anne +Mie was too much on the alert. + +But, with a vague idea that a cunning man might choose the most unlikely +places for the concealment of compromising property, he was ransacking +the kitchen from floor to ceiling. + +In the living-room Déroulède was doing his best to reassure his mother, +who, in her turn, was forcing herself to be brave, and not to show by +her tears how deeply she feared for the safety of her son. As soon as +Déroulède had been freed from the presence of the soldiers, he had +hastened back to his study, only to find that Juliette had gone, and +that the letter-case had also disappeared. Not knowing what to think, +trembling for the safety of the woman he adored, he was just debating +whether he would seek for her in her own room, when she came towards him +across the landing. + +There seemed a halo around her now. Déroulède felt that she had never +been so beautiful and to him so unattainable. Something told him then, +that at this moment she was as far away from him, as if she were an +inhabitant of another, more ethereal planet. + +When she saw him coming towards her, she put a finger to her lips, and +whispered: + +"Sh! sh! the papers are destroyed, burned." + +"And I owe my safety to you!" + +He had said it with his whole soul, an infinity of gratitude filled his +heart, a joy and pride in that she had cared for his safety. + +But at his words she had grown paler than she was before. Her eyes, +large, dilated, and dark, were fixed upon him with an intensity of gaze +which almost startled him. He thought that she was about to faint, that +the emotions of the past half hour had been too much for her overstrung +nerves. He took her hand, and gently dragged her into the living-room. + +She sank into a chair, as if utterly weary and exhausted, and he, +forgetting his danger, forgetting the world and all else besides, knelt +at her feet, and held her hands in his. + +She sat bolt upright, her great eyes still fixed upon him. At first it +seemed as if he could not be satiated with looking at her; he felt as if +he had never, never really seen her. She had been a dream of beauty to +him ever since that awful afternoon when he had held her, half fainting, +in his arms, and had dragged her under the shelter of his roof. + +From that hour he had worshipped her: she had cast over him the magic +spell of her refinement, her beauty, that aroma of youth and innocence +which makes such a strong appeal to the man of sentiment. + +He had worshipped her and not tried to understand. He would have deemed +it almost sacrilege to pry into the mysteries of her inner self, of that +second nature in her which at times made her silent, and almost morose, +and cast a lurid gloom over her young beauty. + +And though his love for her had grown in intensity, it had remained as +heaven born as he deemed her to be--the love of a mortal for a saint, +the ecstatic adoration of a St Francis for his Madonna. + +Sir Percy Blakeney had called Déroulède an idealist. He was that, in the +strictest sense, and Juliette had embodied all that was best in his +idealism. + +It was for the first time to-day, that he had held her hand just for a +moment longer than mere conventionality allowed. The first kiss on her +finger-tips had sent the blood rushing wildly to his heart; but he still +worshipped her, and gazed upon her as upon a divinity. + +She sat bolt upright in the chair, abandoning her small, cold hands to +his burning grasp. + +His very senses ached with the longing to clasp her in his arms, to draw +her to him, and to feel her pulses beat closer against his. It was +almost torture now to gaze upon her beauty--that small, oval face, +almost like a child's, the large eyes which at times had seemed to be +blue but which now appeared to be a deep, unfathomable colour, like the +tempestuous sea. + +"Juliette!" he murmured at last, as his soul went out to her in a +passionate appeal for the first kiss. + +A shudder seemed to go through her entire frame, her very lips turned +white and cold, and he, not understanding, timorous, chivalrous and +humble, thought that she was repelled by his ardour and frightened by a +passion to which she was too pure to respond. + +Nothing but that one word had been spoken--just her name, an appeal from +a strong man, overmastered at last by his boundless love--and she, poor, +stricken soul, who had so much loved, so deeply wronged him, shuddered +at the thought of what she might have done, had Fate not helped her to +save him. + +Half ashamed of his passion, he bowed his dark head over her hands, and, +once more forcing himself to be calm now, he kissed her finger-tips +reverently. + +When he looked up again the hard lines in her face had softened, and two +tears were slowly trickling down her pale cheeks. + +"Will you forgive me, madonna?" he said gently. "I am only a man and you +are very beautiful. No--don't take your little hands away. I am quite +calm now, and know how one should speak to angels." + +Reason, justice, rectitude--everything was urging Juliette to close her +ears to the words of love, spoken by the man whom she had betrayed. But +who shall blame her for listening to the sweetest sound the ears of a +woman can ever hear--the sound of the voice of the loved one in his +first declaration of love? + +She sat and listened, whilst he whispered to her those soft, endearing +words, of which a strong man alone possesses the enchanting secret. + +She sat and listened, whilst all around her was still. Madame Déroulède, +at the farther end of the room, was softly muttering a few prayers. + +They were all alone these two in the mad and beautiful world, which man +has created for himself--the world of romance--that world more wonderful +than any heaven, where only those may enter who have learned the sweet +lesson of love. Déroulède roamed in it at will. He had created his own +romance, wherein he was as a humble worshipper, spending his life in the +service of his madonna. + +And she too forgot the earth, forgot the reality, her oath, her crime +and its punishment, and began to think that it was good to live, good to +love, and good to have at her feet the one man in all the world whom she +could fondly worship. + +Who shall tell what he whispered? Enough that she listened and that she +smiled; and he, seeing her smile, felt happy. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Detected. + + +The opening and shutting of the door roused them both from their dreams. + +Anne Mie, pale, trembling, with eyes looking wild and terrified, had +glided into the room. + +Déroulède had sprung to his feet. In a moment he had thrust his own +happiness into the background at sight of the poor child's obvious +suffering. He went quickly towards her, and would have spoken to her, +but she ran past him up to Madame Déroulède, as if she were beside +herself with some unexplainable terror. + +"Anne Mie," he said firmly, "what is it? Have those devils dared ..." + +In a moment reality had come rushing back upon him with full force, and +bitter reproaches surged up in his heart against himself, for having in +this moment of selfish joy forgotten those who looked up to him for help +and protection. + +He knew the temper of the brutes who had been set upon his track, knew +that low-minded Merlin and his noisome ways, and blamed himself severely +for having left Anne Mie and Pétronelle alone with him even for a few +moments. + +But Anne Mie quickly reassured him. + +"They have not molested us much," she said, speaking with a visible +effort and enforced calmness. "Pétronelle and I were together, and they +made us open all the cupboards and uncover all the dishes. They then +asked us many questions." + +"Questions? Of what kind?" asked Déroulède. + +"About you, Paul," replied Anne Mie, "and about maman, and also about +--about the citizeness, your guest." + +Déroulède looked at her closely, vaguely wondering at the strange +attitude of the child. She was evidently labouring under some strong +excitement, and in her thin, brown little hand she was clutching a piece +of paper. + +"Anne Mie! Child," he said very gently, "you seem quite upset--as if +something terrible had happened. What is that paper you are holding, my +dear?" + +Anne Mie gazed down upon it. She was obviously making frantic efforts to +maintain her self-possession. + +Juliette at first sight of Anne Mie seemed literally to have been turned +to stone. She sat upright, rigid as a statue, her eyes fixed upon the +poor, crippled girl as if upon an inexorable judge, about to pronounce +sentence upon her of life or death. + +Instinct, that keen sense of coming danger which Nature sometimes gives +to her elect, had told her that, within the next few seconds, her doom +would be sealed; that Fate would descend upon her, holding the sword of +Nemesis; and it was Anne Mie's tiny, half-shrivelled hand which had +placed that sword into the grasp of Fate. + +"What is that paper? Will you let me see it, Anne Mie?" repeated +Déroulède. + +"Citizen Merlin gave it to me just now," began Anne Mie more quietly; +"he seems very wroth at finding nothing compromising against you, Paul. +They were a long time in the kitchen, and now they have gone to search +my room and Pétronelle's; but Merlin--oh! that awful man!--he seemed +like a beast infuriated with his disappointment." + +"Yes, yes." + +"I don't know what he hoped to get out of me, for I told him that you +never spoke to your mother or to me about your political business, and +that I was not in the habit of listening at the keyholes." + +"Yes. And ..." + +"Then he began to speak of--of our guest--but, of course, there again I +could tell him nothing. He seemed to be puzzled as to who had denounced +you. He spoke about an anonymous denunciation, which reached the Public +Prosecutor early this morning. It was written on a scrap of paper, and +thrown into the public box, it seems, and ..." + +"It is indeed very strange," said Déroulède, musing over this +extraordinary occurrence, and still more over Anne Mie's strange +excitement in the telling of it. "I never knew I had a hidden enemy. I +wonder if I shall ever find out ..." + +"That is just what I said to Citizen Merlin," rejoined Anne Mie. + +"What?" + +"That I wondered if you, or--or any of us who love you, will ever find +out who your hidden enemy might be." + +"It was a mistake to talk so fully with such a brute, little one." + +"I didn't say much, and I thought it wisest to humour him, as he seemed +to wish to talk on that subject." + +"Well? And what did he say?" + +"He laughed, and asked me if I would very much like to know." + +"I hope you said No, Anne Mie?" + +"Indeed, indeed, I said Yes," she retorted with sudden energy, her eyes +fixed now upon Juliette, who still sat rigid and silent, watching every +movement of Anne Mie from the moment in which she began to tell her +story. + +"Would I not wish to know who is your enemy, Paul--the creature who was +base and treacherous enough to attempt to deliver you into the hands of +those merciless villains? What wrong had you done to anyone?" + +"Sh! Hush, Anne Mie! you are too excited," he said, smiling now, in +spite of himself, at the young girl's vehemence over what he thought was +but a trifle--the discovery of his own enemy. + +"I am sorry, Paul. How can I help being excited," rejoined Anne Mie with +quaint, pathetic gentleness, "when I speak of such base treachery, as +that which Merlin has suggested?" + +"Well? And what did he suggest?" + +"He did more than suggest," whispered Anne Mie almost inaudibly; "he +gave me this paper--the anonymous denunciation which reached the Public +Prosecutor this morning--he thought one of us might recognise the +handwriting." + +Then she paused, some five steps away from Déroulède, holding out +towards him the crumpled paper, which up to now she had clutched +determinedly in her hand. Déroulède was about to take it from her, and +just before he had turned to do so, his eyes lighted on Juliette. + +She said nothing, she had merely risen instinctively, and had reached +Anne Mie's side in less than the fraction of a second. + +It was all a flash, and there was dead silence in the room, but in that +one-hundredth part of a second, Déroulède had read guilt in the face of +Juliette. + +It was nothing but instinct, a sudden, awful, unexplainable revelation. +Her soul seemed suddenly to stand before him in all its misery and in +all its sin. + +It was as if the fire from heaven had descended in one terrific crash, +burying beneath its devastating flames his ideals, his happiness, and +his divinity. She was no longer there. His madonna had ceased to be. + +There stood before him a beautiful woman, on whom he had lavished all +the pent-up treasures of his love, whom he had succoured, sheltered, and +protected, and who had repaid him thus. + +She had forced an entry into his house; she had spied upon him, dogged +him, lied to him. The moment was too sudden, too awful for him to make +even a wild guess at her motives. His entire life, his whole past, the +present, and the future, were all blotted out in this awful dispersal of +his most cherished dream. He had forgotten everything else save her +appalling treachery; how could he even remember that once, long ago, in +fair fight, he had killed her brother? + +She did not even try now to hide her guilt. + +A look of appeal, touching in its trustfulness, went out to him, begging +him to spare her further shame. Perhaps she felt that love, such as his, +could not be killed in a flash. + +His entire nature was full of pity, and to that pity she made a final +appeal, lest she should be humiliated before Madame Déroulède and Anne +Mie. + +And he, still under the spell of those magic moments when he had knelt +at her feet, understood her prayer, and closing his eyes just for one +brief moment in order to shut out for ever that radiant vision of a pure +angel whom he had worshipped, turned quietly to Anne Mie. + +"Give me that paper, Anne Mie," he said coldly. "I may perhaps recognise +the handwriting of my most bitter enemy." + +"'Tis unnecessary now," replied Anne Mie slowly, still gazing at the +face of Juliette, in which she too had read what she wished to read. + +The paper dropped out of her hand. + +Déroulède stooped to pick it up. He unfolded it, smoothed it out, and +then saw that it was blank. + +"There is nothing written on this paper," he said mechanically. + +"No," rejoined Anne Mie; "no other words save the story of her +treachery." + +"What you have done is evil and wicked, Anne Mie." + +"Perhaps so; but I had guessed the truth, and I wished to know. God +showed me this way, how to do it, and how to let you know as well." + +"The less you speak of God just now, Anne Mie, the better, I think. Will +you attend to maman? she seems faint and ill." + +Madame Déroulède, silent and placid in her arm-chair, had watched the +tragic scene before her, almost like a disinterested spectator. All her +ideas and all her thoughts had been paralysed, since the moment when the +first summons at the front door had warned her of the imminence of the +peril to her son. + +The final discovery of Juliette's treachery had left her impassive. +Since her son was in danger, she cared little as to whence that danger +had come. + +Obedient to Déroulède's wish, Anne Mie was attending to the old lady's +comforts. The poor, crippled girl was already feeling the terrible +reaction of her deed. + +In her childish mind she had planned this way, in which to bring the +traitor to shame. Anne Mie knew nothing, cared nothing, about the +motives which had actuated Juliette; all she knew was that a terrible +Judas-like deed had been perpetrated against the man, on whom she +herself had lavished her pathetic, hopeless love. + +All the pent-up jealousy which had tortured her for the past three weeks +rose up, and goaded her into unmasking her rival. + +Never for a moment did she doubt Juliette's guilt. The god of love may +be blind, tradition has so decreed it, but the demon of jealousy has a +hundred eyes, more keen than those of the lynx. + +Anne Mie, pushed aside by Merlin's men when they forced their way into +Déroulède's study, had, nevertheless, followed them to the door. When +the curtains were drawn aside and the room filled with light, she had +seen Juliette enthroned, apparently calm and placid, upon the sofa. + +It was instinct, the instinct born of her own rejected passion, which +caused her to read in the beautiful girl's face all that lay hidden +behind the pale, impassive mask. That same second sight made her +understand Merlin's hints and allusions. She caught every inflection of +his voice, heard everything, saw everything. + +And in the midst of her anxiety and her terrors for the man she loved, +there was the wild, primitive, intensely human joy at the thought of +bringing that enthroned idol, who had stolen his love, down to earth at +last. + +Anne Mie was not clever; she was simple and childish, with no complexity +of passions or devious ways of intellect. It was her elemental jealousy +which suggested the cunning plan for the unmasking of Juliette. She +would make the girl cringe and fear, threaten her with discovery, and +through her very terror shame her before Paul Déroulède. + +And now it was all done; it had all occurred as she had planned it. Paul +knew that his love had been wasted upon a liar and a traitor, and +Juliette stood pale, humiliated, a veritable wreck of shamed humanity. + +Anne Mie had triumphed, and was profoundly, abjectly wretched in her +triumph. Great sobs seemed to tear at her very heart-strings. She had +pulled down Paul's idol from her pedestal, but the one look she had cast +at his face had shown her that she had also wrecked his life. + +He seemed almost old now. The earnest, restless gaze had gone from his +eyes; he was staring mutely before him, twisting between nerveless +fingers that blank scrap of paper, which had been the means of +annihilating his dream. + +All energy of attitude, all strength of bearing, which were his chief +characteristics, seemed to have gone. There was a look of complete +blankness, of hopelessness in his listless gesture. + +"How he loved her!" sighed Anne Mie, as she tenderly wrapped the shawl +round Madame Déroulède's shoulders. + +Juliette had said nothing; it seemed as if her very life had gone out of +her. She was a mere statue now, her mind numb, her heart dead, her very +existence a fragile piece of mechanism. But she was looking at +Déroulède. That one sense in her had remained alive: her sight. + +She looked and looked: and saw every passing sign of mental agony on his +face: the look of recognition of her guilt, the bewilderment at the +appalling crash, and now that hideous deathlike emptiness of his soul +and mind. + +Never once did she detect horror or loathing. He had tried to save her +from being further humiliated before his mother, but there was no hatred +or contempt in his eyes, when he realised that she had been unmasked by +a trick. + +She looked and looked, for there was no hope in her, not even despair. +There was nothing in her mind, nothing in her soul, but a great +pall-like blank. + +Then gradually, as the minutes sped on, she saw the strong soul within +him make a sudden fight against the darkness of his despair: the +movement of the fingers became less listless; the powerful, energetic +figure straightened itself out; remembrance of other matters, other +interests than his own began to lift the overwhelming burden of his +grief. + +He remembered the letter-case containing the compromising papers. A +vague wonder arose in him as to Juliette's motives in warding off, +through her concealment of it, the inevitable moment of its discovery by +Merlin. + +The thought that her entire being had undergone a change, and that she +now wished to save him, never once entered his mind; if it had, he would +have dismissed it as the outcome of maudlin sentimentality, the conceit +of the fop, who believes his personality to be irresistible. + +His own self-torturing humility pointed but to the one conclusion: that +she had fooled him all along; fooled him when she sought his protection; +fooled him when she taught him to love her; fooled him, above all, at +the moment when, subjugated by the intensity of his passion, he had for +one brief second ceased to worship in order to love. + +When the bitter remembrance of that moment of sweetest folly rushed back +to his aching brain, then at last did he look up at her with one final, +agonised look of reproach, so great, so tender, and yet so final, that +Anne Mie, who saw it, felt as if her own heart would break with the pity +of it all. + +But Juliette had caught the look too. The tension of her nerves seemed +suddenly to relax. Memory rushed back upon her with tumultuous +intensity. Very gradually her knees gave beneath her, and at last she +knelt down on the floor before him, her golden head bent under the +burden of her guilt and her shame. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Under arrest. + + +Déroulède did not attempt to go to her. + +Only presently, when the heavy footsteps of Merlin and his men were once +more heard upon the landing, she quietly rose to her feet. + +She had accomplished her act of humiliation and repentance, there before +them all. She looked for the last time upon those whom she had so deeply +wronged, and in her heart spoke an eternal farewell to that great, and +mighty, and holy love which she had called forth and then had so +hopelessly crushed. + +Now she was ready for the atonement. + +Merlin had already swaggered into the room. The long and arduous search +throughout the house had not improved either his temper or his personal +appearance. He was more covered with grime than he had been before, and +his narrow forehead had almost disappeared beneath the tangled mass of +his ill-kempt hair, which he had perpetually tugged forward and roughed +up in his angry impatience. + +One look at his face had already told Juliette what she wished to know. +He had searched her room, and found the fragments of burnt paper, which +she had purposely left in the ash-pan. + +How he would act now was the one thing of importance left for Juliette +to ponder over. That she would not escape arrest and condemnation was at +once made clear to her. Merlin's look of sneering contempt, when he +glanced towards her, had told her that. + +Déroulède himself had been conscious of a feeling of intense relief when +the men re-entered the room. The tension had become unendurable. When he +saw his dethroned madonna kneel in humiliation at his feet, an +overwhelming pain had wrenched his very heart-strings. + +And yet he could not go to her. The passionate, human nature within him +felt a certain proud exultation at seeing her there. + +She was not above him now, she was no longer akin to the angels. + +He had given no further thought to his own immediate danger. Vaguely he +guessed that Merlin would find the leather case. Where it was he could +not tell; perhaps Juliette herself had handed it to the soldiers. She +had only hidden it for a few moments, out of impulse perhaps, fearing +lest, at the first instant of its discovery, Merlin might betray her. + +He remembered now those hints and insinuations which had gone out from +the Terrorist to Juliette whilst the search was being conducted in the +study. At the time he had merely looked upon these as a base attempt at +insult, and had tortured himself almost beyond bearing, in the endeavour +to refrain from punishing that evilmouthed creature, who dared to bandy +words with his madonna. + +But now he understood, and felt his very soul writhing with shame at the +remembrance of it all. + +Oh yes; the return of Merlin and his men, the presence of these grimy, +degraded brutes, was welcome now. He would have wished to crowd in the +entire world, the universe and its population, between him and his +fallen idol. + +Merlin's manner towards him had lost nothing of its ironical +benevolence. There was even a touch of obsequiousness apparent in the +ugly face, as the representative of the people approached the popular +Citizen-Deputy. + +"Citizen-Deputy," began Merlin, "I have to bring you the welcome news, +that we have found nothing in your house that in any way can cast +suspicion upon your loyalty to the Republic. My orders, however, were to +bring you before the Committee of Public Safety, whether I had found +proofs of your guilt or not. I have found none." + +He was watching Déroulède keenly, hoping even at this eleventh hour to +detect a look or a sign, which would furnish him with the proofs for +which he was seeking. The slightest suggestion of relief on Déroulède's +part, a sigh of satisfaction, would have been sufficient at this moment, +to convince him and the Committee of Public Safety that the +Citizen-Deputy was guilty after all. + +But Déroulède never moved. He was sufficiently master of himself not to +express either surprise or satisfaction. Yet he felt both--satisfaction +not for his own safety, but because of his mother and Anne Mie, whom he +would immediately send out of the country, out of all danger; and also +because of her, of Juliette Marny, his guest, who, whatever she may have +done against him, had still a claim on his protection. His feeling of +surprise was less keen, and quite transient. Merlin had not found the +letter-case. Juliette, stricken with tardy remorse perhaps, had +succeeded in concealing it. The matter had practically ceased to +interest him. It was equally galling to owe his betrayal or his ultimate +safety to her. + +He kissed his mother tenderly, bidding her good-bye, and pressed Anne +Mie's timid little hand warmly between his own. He did what he could to +reassure them, but, for their own sakes, he dared say nothing before +Merlin, as to his plans for their safety. + +After that he was ready to follow the soldiers. + +As he passed close to Juliette he bowed, and almost inaudibly whispered: + +"Adieu!" + +She heard the whisper, but did not respond. Her look alone gave him the +reply to his eternal farewell. + +His footsteps and those of his escort were heard echoing down the +staircase, then the hall door to open and shut. Through the open window +came the sound of hoarse cheering as the popular Citizen-Deputy appeared +in the street. + +Merlin, with two men beside him, remained under the portico; he told off +the other two to escort Déroulède as far as the Hall of Justice, where +sat the members of the Committee of Public Safety. The Terrorist had a +vague fear that the Citizen-Deputy would speak to the mob. + +An unruly crowd of women had evidently been awaiting his appearance. The +news had quickly spread along the streets that Merlin, Merlin himself, +the ardent, bloodthirsty Jacobin, had made a descent upon Paul +Déroulède's house, escorted by four soldiers. Such an indignity, put +upon the man they most trusted in the entire assembly of the Convention, +had greatly incensed the crowd. The women jeered at the soldiers as soon +as they appeared, and Merlin dared not actually forbid Déroulède to +speak. + +_"A la lanterne, vieux crétin!"_ shouted one of the women, thrusting her +fist under Merlin's nose. + +"Give the word, Citizen-Deputy," rejoined another, "and we'll break his +ugly face. _Nous lui casserons la gueule!_" + +"_A la lanterne! A la lanterne!"_ + +One word from Déroulède now would have caused an open riot, and in those +days self defence against the mob was construed into enmity against the +people. + +Merlin's work, too, was not yet accomplished. He had had no intention of +escorting Déroulède himself; he had still important business to transact +inside the house which he had just quitted, and had merely wished to get +the Citizen-Deputy well out of the way, before he went upstairs again. + +Moreover, he had expected something of a riot in the streets. The temper +of the people of Paris was at fever heat just now. The hatred of the +populace against a certain class, and against certain individuals, was +only equalled by their enthusiasm in favour of others. + +They had worshipped Marat for his squalor and his vices; they worshipped +Danton for his energy and Robespierre for his calm; they worshipped +Déroulède for his voice, his gentleness and his pity, for his care of +their children and the eloquence of his speech. + +It was that eloquence which Merlin feared now; but he little knew the +type of man he had to deal with. + +Déroulède's influence over the most unruly, the most vicious populace +the history of the world has ever known, was not obtained through +fanning its passions. That popularity, though brilliant, is always +ephemeral. The passions of a mob will invariably turn against those who +have helped to rouse them. Marat did not live to see the waning of his +star; Danton was dragged to the guillotine by those whom he had taught +to look upon that instrument of death as the only possible and +unanswerable political argument; Robespierre succumbed to the orgies of +bloodshed he himself had brought about. But Déroulède remained master of +the people of Paris for as long as he chose to exert that mastery. When +they listened to him they felt better, nobler, less hopelessly degraded. + +He kept up in their poor, misguided hearts that last flickering sense of +manhood which their bloodthirsty tyrants, under the guise of Fraternity +and Equality, were doing their best to smother. + +Even now, when he might have turned the temper of the small crowd +outside his door to his own advantage, he preferred to say nothing; he +even pacified them with a gesture. + +He well knew that those whom he incited against Merlin now would, once +their blood was up, probably turn against him in less than half-an-hour. + +Merlin, who all along had meant to return to the house, took his +opportunity now. He allowed Déroulède and the two men to go on ahead, +and beat a hasty retreat back into the house, followed by the jeers of +the women. + +_"A la lanterne, vieux crétin!"_ they shouted as soon as the hall door +was once more closed in their faces. A few of them began hammering +against the door with their fists; then they realised that their special +favourite, Citizen-Deputy Déroulède, was marching along between two +soldiers, as if he were a prisoner. The word went round that he was +under arrest, and was being taken to the Hall of Justice--a prisoner. + +This was not to be. The mob of Paris had been taught that it was the +master in the city, and it had learned its lesson well. For the moment +it had chosen to take Paul Déroulède under its special protection, and +as a guard of honour to him--the women in ragged kirtles, the men with +bare legs and stripped to the waist, the children all yelling, hooting, +and shrieking--followed him, to see that none dared harm him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +Atonement. + + +Merlin waited a while in the hall, until he heard the noise of the +shrieking crowd gradually die away in the distance, then with a grunt of +satisfaction he one more mounted the stairs. + +All these events outside had occurred during a very few minutes, and +Madame Déroulède and Anne Mie had been too anxious as to what was +happening in the streets, to take any notice of Juliette. + +They had not dared to step out on to the balcony to see what was going +on, and, therefore, did not understand what the reopening and shutting +of the front door had meant. + +The next instant, however, Merlin's heavy, slouching footsteps on the +stairs had caused Anne Mie to look round in alarm. + +"It is only the soldiers come back for me," said Juliette quietly. + +"For you?" + +"Yes; they are coming to take me away. I suppose they did not wish to do +it in the presence of Mr. Déroulède, for fear ..." + +She had no time to say more. Anne Mie was still looking at her in awed +and mute surprise, when Merlin entered the room. + +In his hand he held a leather case, all torn, and split at one end, and +a few tiny scraps of half-charred paper. He walked straight up to +Juliette, and roughly thrust the case and papers into her face. + +"These are yours?" he said roughly. + +"Yes." + +"I suppose you know where they were found?" + +She nodded quietly in reply. + +"What were these papers which you burnt?" + +"Love letters." + +"You lie!" + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"As you please," she said curtly. + +"What were these papers?" he repeated, with a loud obscene oath which, +however, had not the power to disturb the young girl's serenity. + +"I have told you," she said: "love letters, which I wished to burn." + +"Who was your lover?" he asked. + +Then as she did not reply he indicated the street, where cries of +"Déroulède! Vive Déroulède!" still echoed from afar. + +"Were the letters from him?" + +"No." + +"You had more than one lover, then?" + +He laughed, and a hideous leer seemed further to distort his ugly +countenance. + +He thrust his face quite close to hers, and she closed her eyes, sick +with the horror of this contact with the degraded wretch. Even Anne Mie +had uttered a cry of sympathy at sight of this evil-smelling, squalid +creature torturing, with his close proximity, the beautiful, refined +girl before him. + +With a rough gesture he put his clawlike hand under her delicate chin, +forcing her to turn round and to look at him. She shuddered at the +loathsome touch, but her quietude never forsook her for a moment. + +It was into the power of wretches such as this man, that she had +wilfully delivered the man she loved. This brutish creature's +familiarity put the finishing touch to her own degradation, but it gave +her the courage to carry through her purpose to the end. + +"You had more than one lover, then?" said Merlin, with a laugh which +would have pleased the devil himself. "And you wished to send one of +them to the guillotine in order to make way for the other? Was that it?" + +"Was that it?" he repeated, suddenly seizing one of her wrists, and +giving it a savage twist, so that she almost screamed with the pain. + +"Yes," she replied firmly. + +"Do you know that you brought me here on a fool's errand?" he asked +viciously; "that the Citizen-Deputy Déroulède cannot be sent to the +guillotine on mere suspicion, eh? Did you know that, when you wrote out +that denunciation?" + +"No; I did not know." + +"You thought we could arrest him on mere suspicion?" + +"Yes." + +"You knew he was Innocent?" + +"I knew it." + +"Why did you burn your love letters?" + +"I was afraid that they would be found, and would be brought under the +notice of the Citizen-Deputy." + +"A splendid combination, _ma foi!_" said Merlin, with an oath, as he +turned to the two other women, who sat pale and shrinking in a corner of +the room, not understanding what was going on, not knowing what to think +or what to believe. They had known nothing of Déroulède's plans for the +escape of Marie Antoinette, they didn't know what the letter-case had +contained, and yet they both vaguely felt that the beautiful girl, who +stood up so calmly before the loathsome Terrorist, was not a wanton, as +she tried to make out, but only misguided, mad perhaps--perhaps a +martyr. + +"Did you know anything of this?" queried Merlin roughly from trembling +Anne Mie. + +"Nothing," she replied. + +"No one knew anything of my private affairs or of my private +correspondence," said Juliette coldly; "as you say, it was a splendid +combination. I had hoped that it would succeed. But I understand now +that Citizen-Deputy Déroulède is a personage of too much importance to +be brought to trial on mere suspicion, and my denunciation of him was +not based on facts." + +"And do you know, my fine aristocrat," sneered Merlin viciously, "that +it is not wise either to fool the Committee of Public Safety, or to +denounce without cause one of the representatives of the people?" + +"I know," she rejoined quietly, "that you, Citizen Merlin, are +determined that someone shall pay for this day's blunder. You dare not +now attack the Citizen-Deputy, and so you must be content with me." + +"Enough of this talk now; I have no time to bandy words with aristos," +he said roughly. + +"Come now, follow the men quietly. Resistance would only aggravate your +case." + +"I am quite prepared to follow you. May I speak two words to my friends +before I go?" + +"No." + +"I may never be able to speak to them again." + +"I have said No, and I mean No. Now then, forward. March! I have wasted +too much time already." + +Juliette was too proud to insist any further. She had hoped, by one +word, to soften Madame Déroulède's and Anne Mie's heart towards her. She +did not know whether they believed that miserable lie which she had been +telling to Merlin; she only guessed that for the moment they still +thought her the betrayer of Paul Déroulède. + +But that one word was not to be spoken. She would have to go forth to +her certain trial, to her probable death, under the awful cloud, which +she herself had brought over her own life. + +She turned quietly, and walked towards the door, where the two men +already stood at attention. + +Then it was that some heaven-born instinct seemed suddenly to guide Anne +Mie. The crippled girl was face to face with a psychological problem, +which in itself was far beyond her comprehension, but vaguely she felt +that it was a problem. Something in Juliette's face had already caused +her to bitterly repent her action towards her, and now, as this +beautiful, refined woman was about to pass from under the shelter of +this roof, to the cruel publicity and terrible torture of that awful +revolutionary tribunal, Anne Mie's whole heart went out to her in +boundless sympathy. + +Before Merlin or the men could prevent her, she had run up to Juliette, +taken her hand, which hung listless and cold, and kissed it tenderly. + +Juliette seemed to wake as if from a dream. She looked down at Anne Mie +with a glance of hope, almost of joy, and whispered: + +"It was an oath--I swore it to my father and my dead brother. Tell him." + +Anne Mie could only nod; she could not speak, for her tears were choking +her. + +"But I'll atone--with my life. Tell him," whispered Juliette. + +"Now then," shouted Merlin, "out of the way, hunchback, unless you want +to come along too." + +"Forgive me," said Anne Mie through her tears. + +Then the men pushed her roughly aside. But at the door Juliette turned +to her once more, and said: + +"Pétronelle--take care of her ..." + +And with a firm step she followed the soldiers out of the room. + +Presently the front door was heard to open, then to shut with a loud +bang, and the house in the Rue Ecole de Médecine was left in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +In the Luxembourg prison. + + +Juliette was alone at last--that is to say, comparatively alone, for +there were too many aristocrats, too many criminals and traitors, in the +prisons of Paris now, to allow of any seclusion of those who were about +to be tried, condemned, and guillotined. + +The young girl had been marched through the crowded streets of Paris, +followed by a jeering mob, who readily recognised in the gentle, +high-bred girl the obvious prey, which the Committee of Public Safety +was wont, from time to time to throw to the hungry hydra-headed dog of +the Revolution. + +Lately the squalid spectators of the noisome spectacle on the Place de +la Guillotine had had few of these very welcome sights: an aristocrat +--a real, elegant, refined woman, with white hands and proud, pale +face--mounting the steps of the same scaffold on which perished the +vilest criminals and most degraded brutes. + +Madame Guillotine was, above all, catholic in her tastes, her gaunt +arms, painted blood red, were open alike to the murderer and the thief, +the aristocrats of ancient lineage, and the proletariat from the gutter. + +But lately the executions had been almost exclusively of a political +character. The Girondins were fighting their last upon the bloody arena +of the Revolution. One by one they fell still fighting, still preaching +moderation, still foretelling disaster and appealing to that people, +whom they had roused from one slavery, in order to throw it headlong +under a tyrannical yoke more brutish, more absolute than before. + +There were twelve prisons in Paris then, and forty thousand in France, +and they were all full. An entire army went round the country recruiting +prisoners. There was no room for separate cells, no room for privacy, no +cause or desire for the most elementary sense of delicacy. + +Women, men, children--all were herded together, for one day, perhaps +two, and a night or so, and then death would obliterate the petty +annoyances, the womanly blushes caused by this sordid propinquity. + +Death levelled all, erased everything. + +When Marie Antoinette mounted the guillotine she had forgotten that for +six weeks she practically lived day and night in the immediate +companionship of a set of degraded soldiery. + +Juliette, as she marched through the streets between two men of the +National Guard, and followed by Merlin, was hooted and jeered at, +insulted, pelted with mud. One woman tried to push past the soldiers, +and to strike her in the face--a woman! not thirty!--and who was +dragging a pale, squalid little boy by the hand. + +"_Crache donc sur l'aristo, voyons!_" the woman said to this poor, +miserable little scrap of humanity as the soldiers pushed her roughly +aside. "Spit on the aristocrat!" And the child tortured its own small, +parched mouth so that, in obedience to its mother, it might defile and +bespatter a beautiful, innocent girl. + +The soldiers laughed, and improved the occasion with another insulting +jest. Even Merlin forgot his vexation, delighted at the incident. + +But Juliette had seen nothing of it all. + +She was walking as in a dream. The mob did not exist for her; she heard +neither insult nor vituperation. She did not see the evil, dirty faces +pushed now and then quite close to her; she did not feel the rough hands +of the soldiers jostling her through the crowd: she had gone back to her +own world of romance, where she dwelt alone now with the man she loved. +Instead of the squalid houses of Paris, with their eternal device of +Fraternity and Equality, there were beautiful trees and shrubs of laurel +and of roses around her, making the air fragrant with their soft, +intoxicating perfumes; sweet voices from the land of dreams filled the +atmosphere with their tender murmur, whilst overhead a cloudless sky +illumined this earthly paradise. + +She was happy--supremely, completely happy. She had saved him from the +consequences of her own iniquitous crime, and she was about to give her +life for him, so that his safety might be more completely assured. + +Her love for him he would never know; now he knew only her crime, but +presently, when she would be convicted and condemned, confronted with a +few scraps of burned paper and a torn letter-case, then he would know +that she had stood her trial, self-accused, and meant to die for him. + +Therefore the past few moments were now wholly hers. She had the rights +to dwell on those few happy seconds when she listened to the avowal of +his love. It was ethereal, and perhaps not altogether human, but it was +hers. She had been his divinity, his madonna; he had loved in her that, +which was her truer, her better self. + +What was base in her was not truly her. That awful oath, sworn so +solemnly, had been her relentless tyrant; and her religion--a religion +of superstition and of false ideals--had blinded her, and dragged her +into crime. + +She had arrogated to herself that which was God's alone--"Vengeance!" +which is not for man. + +That through it all she should have known love, and learned its tender +secrets, was more than she deserved. That she should have felt his +burning kisses on her hand was heavenly compensation for all she would +have to suffer. + +And so she allowed them to drag her through the sansculotte mob of +Paris, who would have torn her to pieces then and there, so as not to +delay the pleasure of seeing her die. + +They took her to the Luxembourg, once the palace of the Medici, the home +of proud "Monsieur" in the days of the Great Monarch, now a loathsome, +overfilled prison. + +It was then six o'clock in the afternoon, drawing towards the close of +this memorable day. She was handed over to the governor of the prison, a +short, thick-set man in black trousers and black-shag woollen shirt, and +wearing a dirty red cap, with tricolour rosette on the side of his +unkempt head. + +He eyed her up and down as she passed under the narrow doorway, then +murmured one swift query to Merlin: + +"Dangerous?" + +"Yes," replied Merlin laconically. + +"You understand," added the governor; "we are so crowded. We ought to +know if individual attention is required." + +"Certainly," said Merlin, "you will be personally responsible for this +prisoner to the Committee of Public Safety." + +"Any visitors allowed?" + +"Certainly not, without the special permission of the Public +Prosecutor." + +Juliette heard this brief exchange of words over her future fate. + +No visitor would be allowed to see her. Well, perhaps that would be +best. She would have been afraid to meet Déroulède again, afraid to read +in his eyes that story of his dead love, which alone might have +destroyed her present happiness. + +And she wished to see no one. She had a memory to dwell on--a short, +heavenly memory. It consisted of a few words, a kiss--the last one--on +her hand, and that passionate murmur which had escaped from his lips +when he knelt at her feet: + +"Juliette!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Complexities. + + +Citizen-Deputy Déroulède had been privately interviewed by the Committee +of Public Safety, and temporarily allowed to go free. + +The brief proceedings had been quite private, the people of Paris were +not to know as yet that their favourite was under a cloud. When he had +answered all the questions put to him, and Merlin--just returned from +his errand at the Luxembourg Prison--had given his version of the +domiciliary visitation in the Citizen-Deputy's house, the latter was +briefly told that for the moment the Republic had no grievance against +him. + +But he knew quite well what that meant. He would be henceforth under +suspicion, watched incessantly, as a mouse is by the cat, and pounced +upon, the moment time would be considered propitious for his final +downfall. + +The inevitable waning of his popularity would be noted by keen, jealous +eyes; and Déroulède, with his sure knowledge of mankind and of +character, knew well enough that his popularity was bound to wane sooner +or later, as all such ephemeral things do. + +In the meanwhile, during the short respite which his enemies would leave +him, his one thought and duty would be to get his mother and Anne Mie +safely out of the country. + +And also ... + +He thought of _her,_ and wondered what had happened. As he walked +swiftly across the narrow footbridge, and reached the other side of the +river, the events of the past few hours rushed upon his memory with +terrible, overwhelming force. + +A bitter ache filled his heart at the remembrance of her treachery. The +baseness of it all was so appalling. He tried to think if he had ever +wronged her; wondered if perhaps she loved someone else, and wished +_him_ out of her way. + +But, then, he had been so humble, so unassuming in his love. He had +arrogated nothing unto himself, asked for nothing, demanded nothing in +virtue of his protecting powers over her. + +He was torturing himself with this awful wonderment of why she had +treated him thus. + +Out of revenge for her brother's death--that was the only explanation he +could find, the only palliation for her crime. + +He knew nothing of her oath to her father, and, of course, had never +heard of the sad history of this young, sensitive girl placed in one +terrible moment between her dead brother and her demented father. He +only thought of common, sordid revenge for a sin he had been practically +forced to commit. + +And how he had loved her! Yes, _loved_--for that was in the past now. + +She had ceased to be a saint or a madonna; she had fallen from her +pedestal so low that he could not find the way to descend and grope +after the fragments of his ideal. + +At his own door he was met by Anne Mie in tears. + +"She has gone," murmured the young girl. "I feel as if I had murdered +her." + +"Gone? Who? Where?" queried Déroulède rapidly, an icy feeling of terror +gripping him by the heart-strings. + +"Juliette has gone," replied Anne Mie; "those awful brutes took her +away." + +"When?" + +"Directly after you left. That man Merlin found some ashes and scraps of +paper in her room ..." + +"Ashes?" + +"Yes; and a torn letter-case." + +"Great God!" + +"She said that they were love letters, which she had been burning for +fear you should see them." + +"She said so? Anne Mie, Anne Mie, are you quite sure?" + +It was all so horrible, and he did not quite understand it all; his +brain, which was usually so keen and so active, refused him service at +this terrible juncture. + +"Yes; I am quite sure," continued Anne Mie, in the midst of her tears. +"And oh! that awful Merlin said some dastardly things. But she persisted +in her story, that she had--another lover. Oh, Paul, I am sure it is not +true. I hated her because--because--you loved her so, and I mistrusted +her, but I cannot believe that she was quite as base as that." + +"No, no, child," he said in a toneless, miserable voice; "she was not so +base as that. Tell me more of what she said." + +"She said very little else. But Merlin asked her whether she had +denounced you so as to get you out of the way. He hinted that--that ..." + +"That I was her lover too?" + +"Yes," murmured Anne Mie. + +She hardly liked to look at him; the strong face had become hard and set +in its misery. + +"And she allowed them to say all this?" he asked at last. + +"Yes. And she followed them without a murmur, as Merlin said she would +have to answer before the Committee of Public Safety, for having fooled +the representatives of the people." + +"She'll answer for it with her life," murmured Déroulède. "And with +mine!" he added half audibly. + +Anne Mie did not hear him; her pathetic little soul was filled with a +great, an overwhelming pity of Juliette and for Paul. + +"Before they took her away," she said, placing her thin, +delicate-looking hands on his arm. "I ran to her, and bade her farewell. +The soldiers pushed me roughly aside; but I contrived to kiss her--and +then she whispered a few words to me." + +"Yes? What were they?" + +"'It was an oath,' she said. 'I swore it to my father and to my dead +brother. Tell him,'" repeated Anne Mie slowly. + +An oath! + +Now he understood, and oh! how he pitied her. How terribly she must have +suffered in her poor, harassed soul when her noble, upright nature +fought against this hideous treachery. + +That she was true and brave in herself, of that Déroulède had no doubt. +And now this awful sin upon her conscience, which must be causing her +endless misery. + +And, alas! the atonement would never free her from the load of +self-condemnation. She had elected to pay with her life for her treason +against him and his family. She would be arraigned before a tribunal +which would inevitably condemn her. Oh! the pity of it all! + +One moment's passionate emotion, a lifelong superstition and mistaken +sense of duty, and now this endless misery, this terrible atonement of a +wrong that could never be undone. + +And she had never loved him! + +That was the true, the only sting which he knew now; it rankled more +than her sin, more than her falsehood, more than the shattering of his +ideal. + +With a passionate desire for his safety, she had sacrificed herself in +order to atone for the material evil which she had done. + +But there was the wreck of his hopes and of his dreams! + +Never until now, when he had irretrievably lost her, did Déroulède +realise how great had been his hopes; how he had watched day after day +for a look in her eyes, a word from her lips, to show him that she too +--his unattainable saint--would one day come to earth, and respond to +his love. + +And now and then, when her beautiful face lighted up at sight of him, +when she smiled a greeting to him on his return from his work, when she +looked with pride and admiration on him from the public bench in the +assemblies of the Convention--then he had begun to hope, to think, to +dream. + +And it was all a sham! A mask to hide the terrible conflict that was +raging within her soul, nothing more. + +She did not love him, of that he felt convinced. Man like, he did not +understand to the full that great and wonderful enigma, which has +puzzled the world since primeval times: a woman's heart. + +The eternal contradictions which go to make up the complex nature of an +emotional woman were quite incomprehensible to him. Juliette had +betrayed him to serve her own sense of what was just and right, her +revenge and her oath. Therefore she did not love him. + +It was logic, sound common-sense, and, aided by his own diffidence where +women were concerned, it seemed to him irrefutable. + +To a man like Paul Déroulède, a man of thought, of purpose, and of +action, the idea of being false to the thing loved, of hate and love +being interchangeable, was absolutely foreign and unbelievable. He had +never hated the thing he loved or loved the thing he hated. A man's +feelings in these respects are so much less complex, so much less +contradictory. + +Would a man betray his friend? No--never. He might betray his enemy, the +creature he abhorred, whose downfall would cause him joy. But his +friend? The very idea was repugnant, impossible to an upright nature. + +Juliette's ultimate access of generosity in trying to save him, when she +was at last brought face to face with the terrible wrong she had +committed, _that_ he put down to one of those noble impulses of which he +knew her soul to be fully capable, and even then his own diffidence +suggested that she did it more for the sake of his mother or for Anne +Mie rather than for him. + +Therefore what mattered life to him now? She was lost to him for ever, +whether he succeeded in snatching her from the guillotine or not. He had +but little hope to save her, but he would not owe his life to her. + +Anne Mie, seeing him wrapped in his own thoughts, had quietly withdrawn. +Her own good sense told her already that Paul Déroulède's first step +would be to try and get his mother out of danger, and out of the +country, while there was yet time. + +So, without waiting for instructions, she began that same evening to +pack up her belongings and those of Madame Déroulède. + +There was no longer any hatred in her heart against Juliette. Where Paul +Déroulède had failed to understand, there Anne Mie had already made a +guess. She firmly believed that nothing now could save Juliette from +death, and a great feeling of tenderness had crept into her heart, for +the woman whom she had looked upon as an enemy and a rival. + +She too had learnt in those brief days the great lesson that revenge +belongs to God alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +The Cheval Borgne. + + +It was close upon midnight. + +The place had become suffocatingly hot; the fumes of rank tobacco, of +rancid butter, and of raw spirits hung like a vapour in mid-air. + +The principal room in the "Auberge du Cheval Borgne" had been used for +the past five years now as the chief meeting-place of the +ultra-sansculotte party of the Republic. + +The house itself was squalid and dirty, up one of those mean streets +which, by their narrow way and shelving buildings, shut out sun, air, +and light from their miserable inhabitants. + +The Cheval Borgne was one of the most wretched-looking dwellings in this +street of evil repute. The plaster was cracked, the walls themselves +seemed bulging outward, preparatory to a final collapse. The ceilings +were low, and supported by beams black with age and dirt. + +At one time it had been celebrated for its vast cellarage, which had +contained some rare old wines. And in the days of the Grand Monarch +young bucks were wont to quit the gay salons of the ladies, in order to +repair to the Cheval Borgne for a night's carouse. + +In those days the vast cellarage was witness of many a dark encounter, +of many a mysterious death; could the slimy walls have told their own +tale, it would have been one which would have put to shame the wildest +chronicles of M. Vidoq. + +Now it was no longer so. + +Things were done in broad daylight on the Place de la Révolution: there +was no need for dark, mysterious cellars, in which to accomplish deeds +of murder and of revenge. + +Rats and vermin of all sorts worked their way now in the underground +portion of the building. They ate up each other, and held their orgies +in the cellars, whilst men did the same sort of thing in the rooms +above. + +It was a club of Equality and Fraternity. Any passer-by was at liberty +to enter and take part in the debates, his only qualification for this +temporary membership being an inordinate love for Madame la Guillotine. + +It was from the sordid rooms of the Cheval Borgne that most of the +denunciations had gone forth which led but to the one inevitable +ending--death. + +They sat in conclave here, some twoscore or so at first, the rabid +patriots of this poor, downtrodden France. They talked of Liberty +mostly, with many oaths and curses against the tyrants, and then started +a tyranny, an autocracy, ten thousand times more awful than any wielded +by the dissolute Bourbons. + +And this was the temple of Liberty, this dark, damp, evil-smelling +brothel, with is narrow, cracked window-panes, which let in but an +infinitesimal fraction of air, and that of the foulest, most unwholesome +kind. + +The floor was of planks roughly put together; now they were worm-eaten, +bare, save for a thick carpet of greasy dust, which deadened the sound +of booted feet. The place only boasted of a couple of chairs, both of +which had to be propped against the wall lest they should break, and +bring the sitter down upon the floor; otherwise a number of empty wine +barrels did duty for seats, and rough deal boards on broken trestles for +tables. + +There had once been a paper on the walls, now it hung down in strips, +showing the cracked plaster beneath. The whole place had a tone of +yellowish-grey grime all over it, save where, in the centre of the room, +on a rough double post, shaped like the guillotine, a scarlet cap of +Liberty gave a note of lurid colour to the dismal surroundings. + +On the walls here and there the eternal device, so sublime in +conception, so sordid in execution, recalled the aims of the so-called +club: "Liberté, Fraternité, Egalité, sinon la Mort." + +Below the device, in one or two corners of the room, the wall was +further adorned with rough charcoal sketches, mostly of an obscene +character, the work of one of the members of the club, who had chosen +this means of degrading his art. + +To-night the assembly had been reduced to less than a score. + +Even according to the dictates of these apostles of Fraternity: _"la +guillotine va toujours"_--the guillotine goes on always. She had become +the most potent factor in the machinery of government, of this great +Revolution, and she had been daily, almost hourly fed through the +activity of this nameless club, which held its weird and awesome +sittings in the dank coffee-room of the Cheval Borgne. + +The number of the active members had been reduced. Like the rats in the +cellars below, they had done away with one another, swallowed one +another up, torn each other to pieces in this wild rage for a Utopian +fraternity. + +Marat, founder of the organisation, had been murdered by a girl's hand; +but Charon, Manuel, Osselin had gone the usual way, denounced by their +colleagues, Rabaut, Custine, Bison, who in their turn were sent to the +guillotine by those more powerful, perhaps more eloquent, than +themselves. + +It was merely a case of who could shout the loudest at an assembly of +the National Convention. + +_"La guillotine va toujours!"_ + +After the death of Marat, Merlin became the most prominent member of the +club--he and Foucquier-Tinville, his bosom friend, Public Prosecutor, +and the most bloodthirsty homicide of this homicidal age. + +Bosom friend both, yet they worked against one another, undermining each +other's popularity, whispering persistently, one against the other: "He +is a traitor!" It had become just a neck-to-neck race between them +towards the inevitable goal--the guillotine. + +Foucquier-Tinville is in the ascendant for the moment. Merlin had been +given a task which he had failed to accomplish. For days now, weeks +even, the debates of this noble assembly had been chiefly concerned with +the downfall of Citizen-Deputy Déroulède. His popularity, his calm +security in the midst of this reign of terror and anarchy, had been a +terrible thorn in the flesh of these rabid Jacobins. + +And now the climax had been reached. An anonymous denunciation had +roused the hopes of these sanguinary patriots. It all sounded perfectly +plausible. To try and save that traitor, Marie Antoinette, the widow of +Louis Capet, was just the sort of scheme that would originate in the +brain of Paul Déroulède. + +He had always been at heart an aristocrat, and the feeling of chivalry +for a persecuted woman was only the outward signs of his secret +adherence to the hated class. + +Merlin had been sent to search the Deputy's house for proofs of the +latter's guilt. + +And Merlin had come back empty-handed. + +The arrest of a female aristo--the probable mistress of Déroulède, who +obviously had denounced him--was but small compensation for the failure +of the more important capture. + +As soon as Merlin joined his friends in the low, ill-lit, evil-smelling +room he realised at once that there was a feeling of hostility against +him. + +Tinville, enthroned on one of the few chairs of which the Cheval Borgne +could boast, was surrounded by a group of surly adherents. + +On the rough trestles a number of glasses, half filled with raw +potato-spirit, gave the keynote to the temper of the assembly. + +All those present were dressed in the black-shag spencer, the seedy +black breeches, and down-at-heel boots, which had become recognised as +the distinctive uniform of the sansculotte party. The inevitable +Phrygian cap, with its tricolour cockade, appeared on the heads of all +those present, in various stages of dirt and decay. + +Tinville had chosen to assume a sarcastic tone with regard to his whilom +bosom friend, Merlin. Leaning both elbows on the table, he was picking +his teeth with a steel fork, and in the intervals of his interesting +operation, gave forth his views on the broad principles of patriotism. + +Those who sat round him felt that his star was in the ascendant and +assumed the position of satellites. Merlin as he entered had grunted a +sullen "Good-eve," and sat himself down in a remote corner of the room. + +His greeting had been responded to with a few jeers and a good many +dark, threatening looks. Tinville himself had bowed to him with mock +sarcasm and an unpleasant leer. + +One of the patriots, a huge fellow, almost a giant, with heavy, coarse +fists and broad shoulders that obviously suggested coal-heaving, had, +after a few satirical observations, dragged one of the empty wine +barrels to Merlin's table, and sat down opposite him. + +"Take care, Citizen Lenoir," said Tinville, with an evil laugh, +"Citizen-Deputy Merlin will arrest you instead of Deputy Déroulède, whom +he has allowed to slip through his fingers." + +"Nay; I've no fear," replied Lenoir, with an oath. "Citizen Merlin is +too much of an aristo to hurt anyone; his hands are too clean; he does +not care to do the dirty work of the Republic. Isn't that so, Monsieur +Merlin?" added the giant, with a mock bow, and emphasising the +appellation which had fallen into complete disuse in these days of +equality. + +"My patriotism is too well known," said Merlin roughly, "to fear any +attacks from jealous enemies; and as for my search in the +Citizen-Deputy's house this afternoon, I was told to find proofs against +him, and I found none." + +Lenoir expectorated on the floor, crossed his dark hairy arms over the +table, and said quietly: + +"Real patriotism, as the true Jacobin understands it, makes the proofs +it wants and leaves nothing to chance." + +A chorus of hoarse murmurs of "Vive la Liberté!" greeted this harangue +of the burly coal-heaver. + +Feeling that he had gained the ear and approval of the gallery, Lenoir +seemed, as it were, to spread himself out, to arrogate to himself the +leadership of this band of malcontents, who, disappointed in their lust +of Déroulède's downfall, were ready to exult over that of Merlin. + +"You were a fool, Citizen Merlin," said Lenoir with slow significance, +"not to see that the woman was playing her own game." + +Merlin had become livid under the grime on his face. With this ill-kempt +sansculotte giant in front of him, he almost felt as if he were already +arraigned before that awful, merciless tribunal, to which he had dragged +so many innocent victims. + +Already he felt, as he sat ensconced behind a table in the far corner of +the room, that he was a prisoner at the bar, answering for his failure +with his life. + +His own laws, his own theories now stood in bloody array against him. +Was it not he who had framed the indictments against General Custine for +having failed to subdue the cities of the south? against General +Westerman and Brunet and Beauharnais for having failed and failed and +failed? + +And now it was his turn. + +These bloodthirsty jackals had been cheated of their prey; they would +tear him to pieces in compensation of their loss. + +"How could I tell?" he murmured roughly, "the woman had denounced him." + +A chorus of angry derision greeted this feeble attempt at defence. + +"By your own law, Citizen-Deputy Merlin," commented Tinville +sarcastically, "it is a crime against the Republic to be suspected of +treason. It is evident, however, that it is quite one thing to frame a +law and quite another to obey it." + +"What could I have done?" + +"Hark at the innocent!" rejoined Lenoir, with a sneer. "What could he +have done? Patriots, friends, brothers, I ask you, what could he have +done?" + +The giant had pushed the wine cask aside, it rolled away from under him, +and in the fulness of his contempt for Merlin and his impotence, he +stood up before them all, strong in his indictment against treasonable +incapacity. + +"I ask you," he repeated, with a loud oath, "what any patriot would do, +what you or I would have done, in the house of a man whom we all _know_ +is a traitor to the Republic? Brothers, friends, Citizen-Deputy Merlin +found a heap of burnt paper in a grate, he found a letter-case which had +obviously contained important documents, and he asks us what he could +do!" + +"Déroulède is too important a man to be tried without proofs. The whole +mob of Paris would have turned on us for having arraigned him, for +having dared lay hands upon his sacred person." + +"Without proofs? Who said there were no proofs?" queried Lenoir. + +"I found the burnt papers and torn letter-case in the woman's room. She +owned that they were love letters, and that she had denounced Déroulède +in order to be rid of him." + +"Then let me tell you, Citizen-Deputy Merlin, that a true patriot would +have found those papers in Déroulède's, and not the woman's room; that +in the hands of a faithful servant of the Republic those documents would +not all have been destroyed, for he would have 'found' one letter +addressed to the Widow Capet, which would have proved conclusively that +Citizen-Deputy Déroulède was a traitor. That is what a true patriot +would have done--what I would have done. _Pardi!_ since Déroulède is so +important a personage, since we must all put on kid gloves when we lay +hands upon him, then let us fight him with other weapons. Are we +aristocrats that we should hesitate to play the part of jackal to this +cunning fox? Citizen-Deputy Merlin, are you the son of some ci-devant +duke or prince that you dared not _forge_ a document which would bring a +traitor to his doom? Nay; let me tell you, friends, that the Republic +has no use for curs, and calls him a traitor who allows one of her +enemies to remain inviolate through his cowardice, his terror of that +intangible and fleeting shadow--the wrath of a Paris mob." + +Thunderous applause greeted this peroration, which had been delivered +with an accompaniment of violent gestures and a wealth of obscene +epithets, quite beyond the power of the mere chronicler to render. +Lenoir had a harsh, strident voice, very high pitched, and he spoke with +a broad, provincial accent, somewhat difficult to locate, but quite +unlike the hoarse, guttural tones of the low-class Parisian. His +enthusiasm made him seem impressive. He looked, in his ragged, +dust-stained clothes, the very personification of the squalid herd which +had driven culture, art, refinement to the scaffold in order to make way +for sordid vice, and satisfied lusts of hate. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A Jacobin orator. + + +Tinville alone had remained silent during Lenoir's impassioned speech. +It seemed to be his turn now to become surly. He sat picking his teeth, +and staring moodily at the enthusiastic orator, who had so obviously +diverted popular feeling in his own direction. And Tinville brooked +popularity only for himself. + +"It is easy to talk now, Citizen--er--Lenoir. Is that your name? Well, +you are a comparative stranger here, Citizen Lenoir, and have not yet +proved to the Republic that you can do ought else but talk." + +"If somebody did not talk, Citizen Tinville--is that your name?" +rejoined Lenoir, with a sneer--"if somebody didn't talk, nothing would +get done. You all sit here, and condemn the Citizen-Deputy Merlin for +being a fool, and I must say I am with you there, but ..." + +"_Pardi!_ tell us your 'but' citizen," said Tinville, for the +coal-heaver had paused, as if trying to collect his thoughts. He had +dragged a wine barrel to collect his thoughts. He had dragged a wine +barrel close to the trestle table, and now sat astride upon it, facing +Tinville and the group of Jacobins. The flickering tallow candle behind +him threw into bold silhouette his square, massive head, crowned with +its Phrygian cap, and the great breadth of his shoulders, with the +shabby knitted spencer and low, turned-down collar. + +He had long, thin hands, which were covered with successive coats of +coal dust, and with these he constantly made weird gestures, as if in +the act of gripping some live thing by the throat. + +"We all know that the Deputy Déroulède is a traitor, eh?" he said, +addressing the company in general. + +"We do," came with uniform assent from all those present. + +"Then let us put it to the vote. The Ayes mean death, the Noes freedom." + +"Ay, ay!" came from every hoarse, parched throat; and twelve gaunt hands +were lifted up demanding death for Citizen-Deputy Déroulède. + +"The Ayes have it," said Lenoir quietly, "Now all we need do is to +decide how best to carry out our purpose." + +Merlin, very agreeably surprised to see public attention thus diverted +from his own misdeeds, had gradually lost his surly attitude. He too +dragged one of the wine barrels, which did duty for chairs, close to the +trestle table, and thus the members of the nameless Jacobin club made a +compact group, picturesque in its weird horror, its uncompromising, +flaunting ugliness. + +"I suppose," said Tinville, who was loth to give up his position as +leader of these extremists--"I suppose, Citizen Lenoir, that you are in +position to furnish me with proofs of the Citizen-Deputy's guilt?" + +"If I furnish you with such proofs, Citizen Tinville," retorted the +other, "will you, as Public Prosecutor, carry the indictment through?" + +"It is my duty to publicly accuse those who are traitors to the +Republic." + +"And you, Citizen Merlin," queried Lenoir, "will you help the Republic +to the best of your ability to be rid of a traitor?" + +"My services to the cause of our great Revolution are too well known-" +began Merlin. + +But Lenoir interrupted him with impatience. + +"_Pardi!_but we'll have no rhetoric now, Citizen Merlin. We all know +that you have blundered, and that the Republic cares little for those of +her sons who have failed, but whilst you are still Minister of Justice +the people of France have need of you--for bringing _other_ traitors to +the guillotine." + +He spoke this last phrase slowly and significantly, lingering on the +word "other," as if he wished its whole awesome meaning to penetrate +well into Merlin's brain. + +"What is your advice then, Citizen Lenoir?" + +Apparently, by unanimous consent, the coalheaver, from some obscure +province of France, had been tacitly acknowledged the leader of the +band. Merlin, still in terror for himself, looked to him for advice; +even Tinville was ready to be guided by him. All were at one in their +desire to rid themselves of Déroulède, who by his clean living, his +aloofness from their own hideous orgies and deadly hates, seemed a +living reproach to them all; and they all felt that in Lenoir there must +exist some secret dislike of the popular Citizen-Deputy, which would +give him a clear insight of how best to bring about his downfall. + +"What is your advice?" had been Merlin's query, and everyone there +listened eagerly for what was to come. + +"We are all agreed," commenced Lenoir quietly, "that just at this moment +it would be unwise to arraign the Citizen-Deputy without material proof. +The mob of Paris worship him, and would turn against those who had tried +to dethrone their idol. Now, Citizen Merlin failed to furnish us with +proofs of Déroulède's guilt. For the moment he is a free man, and I +imagine a wise one; within two days he will have quitted this country, +well knowing that, if he stayed long enough to see his popularity wane, +he would also outstay his welcome on earth altogether." + +"Ay! Ay!" said some of the men approvingly, whilst others laughed +hoarsely at the weird jest. + +"I propose, therefore," continued Lenoir after a slight pause, "that it +shall be Citizen-Deputy Déroulède himself who shall furnish to the +people of France proofs of his own treason against the Republic." + +"But how? But how?" rapid, loud and excited queries greeted this +extraordinary suggestion from the provincial giant. + +"By the simplest means imaginable," retorted Lenoir with imperturbable +calm. "Isn't there a good proverb which our grandmothers used to quote, +that if you only give a man a sufficient length of rope, he is sure to +hang himself? We'll give our aristocratic Citizen-Deputy plenty of rope, +I'll warrant, if only our present Minister of Justice," he added, +indicating Merlin, "will help us in the little comedy which I propose +that we should play." + +"Yes! Yes! Go on!" said Merlin excitedly. + +"The woman who denounced Déroulède--that is our trump card," continued +Lenoir, now waxing enthusiastic with his own scheme and his own +eloquence. "She denounced him. Ergo, he had been her lover, whom she +wished to be rid of--why? Not, as Citizen Merlin supposed, because he +had discarded her. No, no; she had another lover--she has admitted that. +She wished to be rid of Déroulède to make way for the other, because he +was too persistent--ergo, because he loved her." + +"Well, and what does that prove?" queried Tinville with dry sarcasm. + +"It proves that Déroulède, being in love with the woman, would do much +to save her from the guillotine." + +"Of course." + +"_Pardi!_ let him try, say I," rejoined Lenoir placidly. "Give him the +rope with which to hang himself." + +"What does he mean?" asked one or two of the men, whose dull brains had +not quite as yet grasped the full meaning of this monstrous scheme. + +"You don't understand what I mean, citizens; you think I am mad, or +drunk, or a traitor like Déroulède? _Eh bien!_ give me your attention +five minutes longer, and you shall see. Let me suppose that we have +reached the moment when the woman--what is her name? Oh! ah! yes! +Juliette Marny--stands in the Hall of Justice on her trial before the +Committee of Public Safety. Citizen Foucquier-Tinville, one of our +greatest patriots, reads the indictment against her: the papers +surreptitiously burnt, the torn, mysterious letter-case found in her +room. If these are presumed, in the indictment, to be treasonable +correspondence with the enemies of the Republic, condemnation follows at +once, then the guillotine. There is no defence, no respite. The Minister +of Justice, according to Article IX of the Law framed by himself, allows +no advocate to those directly accused of treason. But," continued the +giant, with slow and calm impressiveness, "in the case of ordinary, +civil indictments, offences against public morality or matters +pertaining to the penal code, the Minister of Justice allows the accused +to be publicly defended. Place Juliette Marny in the dock on a +treasonable charge, she will be hustled out of the court in a few +minutes, amongst a batch of other traitors, dragged back to her own +prison, and executed in the early dawn, before Déroulède has had time to +frame a plan for her safety or defence. If, then, he tries to move +heaven and earth to rescue the woman he loves, the mob of Paris +may,--who knows?--take his part warmly. They are mad where Déroulède is +concerned; and we all know that two devoted lovers have ere now found +favour with the people of France--a curious remnant of sentimentalism, I +suppose--and the popular Citizen-Deputy knows better than anyone else on +earth, how to play upon the sentimental feelings of the populace. Now, +in the case of a penal offence, mark where the difference would be! The +woman Juliette Marny, arraigned for wantonness, for an offence against +public morals; the burnt correspondence, admitted to be the letters of a +lover--her hatred for Déroulède suggesting the false denunciation. Then +the Minister of Justice allows an advocate to defend her. She has none +in court; but think you Déroulède would not step forward, and bring all +the fervour of his eloquence to bear in favour of his mistress? Can you +hear his impassioned speech on her behalf?--I can--the rope, I tell you, +citizens, with which he'll hang himself. Will he admit in open court +that the burnt correspondence was another lover's letters? No!--a +thousand times no!--and, in the face of his emphatic denial of the +existence of another lover for Juliette, it will be for our clever +Public Prosecutor to bring him down to an admission that the +correspondence was his, that it was treasonable, that she burnt them to +save him." + +He paused, exhausted at last, mopping his forehead, then drinking large +gulps of brandy to ease his parched throat. + +A veritable chorus of enthusiasm greeted the end of his long peroration. +The Machiavelian scheme, almost devilish in its cunning, in its subtle +knowledge of human nature and of the heart-strings of a noble +organisation like Déroulède's, commended itself to these patriots, who +were thirsting for the downfall of a superior enemy. + +Even Tinville lost his attitude of dry sarcasm; his thin cheeks were +glowing with the lust of the fight. + +Already for the past few months, the trials before the Committee of +Public Safety had been dull, monotonous, uninteresting. Charlotte Corday +had been a happy diversion, but otherwise it had been the case of +various deputies, who had held views that had become too moderate, or of +the generals who had failed to subdue the towns or provinces of the +south. + +But now this trial on the morrow--the excitement of it all, the trap +laid for Déroulède, the pleasure of seeing him take the first step +towards his own downfall. Everyone there was eager and enthusiastic for +the fray. Lenoir, having spoken at such length, had now become silent, +but everyone else talked, and drank brandy, and hugged his own hate and +likely triumph. + +For several hours, far into the night, the sitting was continued. Each +one of the score of members had some comment to make on Lenoir's speech, +some suggestion to offer. + +Lenoir himself was the first to break up this weird gathering of human +jackals, already exulting over their prey. He bad his companions a quiet +good-night, then passed out into the dark street. + +After he had gone there were a few seconds of complete silence in the +dark and sordid room, where men's ugliest passions were holding absolute +sway. The giant's heavy footsteps echoed along the ill-paved street, and +gradually died away in the distance. + +Then at last Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Prosecutor, spoke: + +"And who is that man?" he asked, addressing the assembly of patriots. + +Most of them did not know. + +"A provincial from the north," said one of the men at last; "he has been +here several times before now, and last year he was a fairly constant +attendant. I believe he is a butcher by trade, and I fancy he comes from +Calais. He was originally brought here by Citizen Brogard, who is good +patriot enough." + +One by one the members of this bond of Fraternity began to file out of +the Cheval Borgne. They nodded curt good-nights to each other, and then +went to their respective abodes, which surely could not be dignified +with the name of home. + +Tinville remained one of the last; he and Merlin seemed suddenly to have +buried the hatchet, which a few hours ago had threatened to destroy one +or the other of these whilom bosom friends. + +Two or three of the most ardent of these ardent extremists had gathered +round the Public Prosecutor, and Merlin, the framer of the Law of the +Suspect. + +"What say you, citizens?" said Tinville at last quietly. "That man +Lenoir, meseems, is too eloquent--eh?" + +"Dangerous," pronounced Merlin, whilst the others nodded approval. + +"But his scheme is good," suggested one of the men. + +"And we'll avail ourselves of it," assented Tinville, "but afterwards +..." + +He paused, and once more everyone nodded approval. + +"Yes; he is dangerous. We'll leave him in peace to-morrow, but +afterwards ..." + +With a gentle hand Tinville caressed the tall double post, which stood +in the centre of the room, and which was shaped like the guillotine. An +evil look was on his face: the grin of a death-dealing monster, savage +and envious. The others laughed in grim content. Merlin grunted a surly +approval. He had no cause to love the provincial coal-heaver who had +raised a raucous voice to threaten him. + +Then, nodding to one another, the last of the patriots, satisfied with +this night's work, passed out into the night. + +The watchman was making his rounds, carrying his lantern, and shouting +his customary cry: + +"Inhabitants of Paris, sleep quietly. Everything is in order, everything +is at peace." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +The close of day. + + +Déroulède had spent the whole of this same night in a wild, impassioned +search for Juliette. + +Earlier in the day, soon after Anne Mie's revelations, he had sought out +his English friend, Sir Percy Blakeney, and talked over with him the +final arrangements for the removal of Madame Déroulède and Anne Mie from +Paris. + +Though he was a born idealist and a Utopian, Paul Déroulède had never +for a moment had any illusions with regard to his own popularity. He +knew that at any time, and for any trivial cause, the love which the mob +bore him would readily turn to hate. He had seen Mirabeau's popularity +wane, La Fayette's, Desmoulin's--was it likely that _he_ alone would +survive the inevitable death of so ephemeral a thing? + +Therefore, whilst he was in power, whilst he was loved and trusted, he +had, figuratively and actually, put his house in order. He had made full +preparations for his own inevitable downfall, for that probable flight +from Paris of those who were dependent upon him. + +He had, as far back as a year ago, provided himself with the necessary +passports, and bespoken with his English friend certain measures for the +safety of his mother and his crippled little relative. Now it was merely +a question of putting these measures into execution. + +Within two hours of Juliette Marny's arrest, Madame Déroulède and Anne +Mie had quitted the house in the Rue Ecole de Médecine. They had but +little luggage with them, and were ostensibly going into the country to +visit a sick cousin. + +The mother of the popular Citizen-Deputy was free to travel unmolested. +The necessary passports which the safety of the Republic demanded were +all in perfect order, and Madame Déroulède and Anne Mie passed through +the north gate of Paris an hour before sunset, on that 24th day of +Fructidor. + +Their large travelling chaise took them some distance on the North Road, +where they were to meet Lord Hastings and Lord Anthony Dewhurst, two of +The Scarlet Pimpernel's most trusted lieutenants, who were to escort +them as far as the coast, and thence see them safely aboard the English +yacht. + +On that score, therefore, Déroulède had no anxiety. His chief duty was +to his mother and to Anne Mie, and that was now fully discharged. + +Then there was old Pétronelle. + +Ever since the arrest of her young mistress the poor old soul had been +in a state of mind bordering on frenzy, and no amount of eloquence on +Déroulède's part would persuade her to quit Paris without Juliette. + +"If my pet lamb is to die," she said amidst heart-broken sobs, "then I +have no cause to live. Let those devils take me along too, if they want +a useless, old woman like me. But if my darling is allowed to go free, +then what would become of her in this awful city without me? She and I +have never been separated; she wouldn't know where to turn for a home. +And who would cook for her and iron out her kerchiefs, I'd like to +know?" + +Reason and common sense were, of course, powerless in face of this +sublime and heroic childishness. No one had the heart to tell the old +woman that the murderous dog of the Revolution seldom loosened its +fangs, once they had closed upon a victim. + +All Déroulède could do was to convey Pétronelle to the old abode, which +Juliette had quitted in order to come to him, and which had never been +formally given up. The worthy soul, calmed and refreshed, deluded +herself into the idea that she was waiting for the return of her young +mistress, and became quite cheerful at sight of the familiar room. + +Déroulède had provided her with money and necessaries. He had but few +remaining hopes in his heart, but among them was the firmly implanted +one that Pétronelle was too insignificant to draw upon herself the +terrible attention of the Committee of Public Safety. + +By the nightfall he had seen the good woman safely installed. Then only +did he feel free. + +At last he could devote himself to what seemed to him the one, the only, +aim of his life--to find Juliette. + +A dozen prisons in this vast Paris! + +Over five thousand prisoners on that night, awaiting trial, condemnation +and death. + +Déroulède at first, strong in his own power, his personality, had +thought that the task would be comparatively easy. + +At the Palais de Justice they would tell him nothing: the list of new +arrests had not yet been handled in by the commandant of Paris, Citizen +Santerre, who classified and docketed the miserable herd of aspirants +for the next day's guillotine. + +The lists, moreover, would not be completed until the next day, when the +trials of the new prisoners would already be imminent. + +The work of the Committee of Public Safety was done without much delay. + +Then began Déroulède's weary quest through those twelve prisons of +Paris. From the Temple to the Conciergerie, from Palais Condé to the +Luxembourg, he spent hours in the fruitless search. + +Everywhere the same shrug of the shoulders, the same indifferent reply +to his eager query: + +"Juliette Marny? _Inconnue._" + +Unknown! She had not yet been docketed, not yet classified; she was +still one of that immense flock of cattle, sent in ever-increasing +numbers to the slaughter-house. + +Presently, to-morrow, after a trial which might last ten minutes, after +a hasty condemnation and quick return to prison, she would be listed as +one of the traitors, whom this great and beneficent Republic sent daily +to the guillotine. + +Vainly did Déroulède try to persuade, to entreat, to bribe. The sullen +guardians of these twelve charnel-houses knew nothing of individual +prisoners. + +But the Citizen-Deputy was allowed to look for himself. He was conducted +to the great vaulted rooms of the Temple, to the vast ballrooms of the +Palais Condé, where herded the condemned and those still awaiting trial; +he was allowed to witness there the grim farcical tragedies, with which +the captives beguiled the few hours which separated them from death. + +Mock trials were acted there; Tinville was mimicked; then the Place de +la Révolution; Samson the headsman, with a couple of inverted chairs to +represent the guillotine. + +Daughters of dukes and princes, descendants of ancient lineage, acted in +these weird and ghastly comedies. The ladies, with hair bound high over +their heads, would kneel before the inverted chairs, and place the +snowwhite necks beneath this imaginary guillotine. Speeches were +delivered to a mock populace, whilst a mock Santerre ordered a mock roll +of drums to drown the last flow of eloquence of the supposed victim. + +Oh! the horror of it all--the pity, pathos, and misery of this ghastly +parody, in the very face of the sublimity of death! + +Déroulède shuddered when first he beheld the scene, shuddered at the +very thought of finding Juliette amongst these careless, laughing, +thoughtless mimes. + +His own, his beautiful Juliette, with her proud face and majestic, +queen-like gestures; it was a relief not to see her there. + +"Juliette Marny? _Inconnue,_" was the final word he heard about her. + +No one told him that by Deputy Merlin's strictest orders she had been +labelled "dangerous," and placed in a remote wing of the Luxembourg +Palace, together with a few, who, like herself, were allowed to see no +one, communicate with no one. + +Then when the _couvre-feu_ had sounded, when all public places were +closed, when the night watchman had begun his rounds, Déroulède knew +that his quest for that night must remain fruitless. + +But he could not rest. In and out the tortuous streets of Paris he +roamed during the better part of that night. He was now only awaiting +the dawn to publicly demand the right to stand beside Juliette. + +A hopeless misery was in his heart, a longing for a cessation of life; +only one thing kept his brain active, his mind clear: the hope of saving +Juliette. + +The dawn was breaking in the far east when, wandering along the banks of +the river, he suddenly felt a touch on his arm. + +"Come to my hovel," said a pleasant, lazy voice close to his ear, whilst +a kindly hand seemed to drag him away from the contemplation of the +dark, silent river. "And a demmed, beastly place it is too, but at least +we can talk quietly there." + +Déroulède, roused from his meditation, looked up, to see his friend, Sir +Percy Blakeney, standing close beside him. Tall, débonnair, +well-dressed, he seemed by his very presence to dissipate the morbid +atmosphere which was beginning to weigh upon Déroulède's active mind. + +Déroulède followed him readily enough through the intricate mazes of +old Paris, and down the Rue des Arts, until Sir Percy stopped outside a +small hostelry, the door of which stood wide open. + +"Mine host has nothing to lose from footpads and thieves," explained the +Englishman as he guided his friend through the narrow doorway, then up a +flight of rickety stairs, to a small room on the floor above. "He leaves +all doors open for anyone to walk in, but, la! the interior of the house +looks so uninviting that no one is tempted to enter." + +"I wonder you care to stay here," remarked Déroulède, with a momentary +smile, as he contrasted in his mind the fastidious appearance of his +friend with the dinginess and dirt of these surroundings. + +Sir Percy deposited his large person in the capacious depths of a creaky +chair, stretched his long limbs out before him, and said quietly: + +"I am only staying in this demmed hole until the moment when I can drag +you out of this murderous city." + +Déroulède shook his head. + +"You'd best go back to England, then," he said, "for I'll never leave +Paris now." + +"Not without Juliette Marny, shall we say?" rejoined Sir Percy placidly. + +"And I fear me that she has placed herself beyond our reach," said +Déroulède sombrely. + +"You know that she is in the Luxembourg Prison?" queried the Englishman +suddenly. + +"I guessed it, but could find no proof." + +"And that she will be tried to-morrow?" + +"They never keep a prisoner pining too long," replied Déroulède +bitterly. "I guessed that too." + +"What do you mean to do?" + +"Defend her with the last breath in my body." + +"You love her still, then?" asked Blakeney, with a smile. + +"Still?" The look, the accent, the agony of a hopeless passion conveyed +in that one word, told Sir Percy Blakeney all that he wished to know. + +"Yet she betrayed you," he said tentatively. + +"And to atone for that sin--an oath, mind you, friend, sworn to her +father--she is already to give her life for me." + +"And you are prepared to forgive?" + +"To understand _is_ to forgive," rejoined Déroulède simply, "and I love +her." + +"Your madonna!" said Blakeney, with a gently ironical smile. + +"No; the woman I love, with all her weaknesses, all her sins; the woman +to gain whom I would give my soul, to save whom I will give my life." + +"And she?" + +"She does not love me--would she have betrayed me else?" + +He sat beside the table, and buried his head in his hands. Not even his +dearest friend should see how much he had suffered, how deeply his love +had been wounded. + +Sir Percy said nothing, a curious, pleasant smile lurked round the +corners of his mobile mouth. Through his mind there flitted the vision +of beautiful Marguerite, who had so much loved yet so deeply wronged +him, and, looking at his friend, he thought that Déroulède too would +soon learn all the contradictions, which wage a constant war in the +innermost recesses of a feminine heart. + +He made a movement as if he would say something more, something of grave +import, then seemed to think better of it, and shrugged his broad +shoulders, as if to say: + +"Let time and chance take their course now." + +When Déroulède looked up again Sir Percy was sitting placidly in the +arm-chair, with an absolutely blank expression on his face. + +"Now that you know how much I love her, my friend," said Déroulède as +soon as he had mastered his emotions, "will you look after her when they +have condemned me, and save her for my sake?" + +A curious, enigmatic smile suddenly illumined Sir Percy's earnest +countenance. + +"Save her? Do you attribute supernatural powers to me, then, or to The +League of The Scarlet Pimpernel?" + +"To you, I think," rejoined Déroulède seriously. + +Once more it seemed as if Sir Percy were about to reveal something of +great importance to his friend, then once more he checked himself. The +Scarlet Pimpernel was, above all, far-seeing and practical, a man of +action and not of impulse. The glowing eyes of his friend, his nervous, +febrile movements, did not suggest that he was in a fit state to be +entrusted with plans, the success of which hung on a mere thread. + +Therefore Sir Percy only smiled, and said quietly: + +"Well, I'll do my best." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Justice. + + +The day had been an unusually busy one. + +Five and thirty prisoners, arraigned before the bar of the Committee of +Public Safety, had been tried in the last eight hours--an average of +rather more than four to the hour; twelve minutes and a half in which to +send a human creature, full of life and health, to solve the great +enigma which lies hidden beyond the waters of the Styx. + +And Citizen-Deputy Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Prosecutor, had +surpassed himself. He seemed indefatigable. + +Each of these five and thirty prisoners had been arraigned for treason +against the Republic, for conspiracy with her enemies, and all had to +have irrefutable proofs of their guilt brought before the Committee of +Public Safety. Sometimes a few letters, written to friends abroad, and +seized at the frontier; a word of condemnation of the measures of the +extremists; and expression of horror at the massacres on the Place de la +Révolution, where the guillotine creaked incessantly--these were +irrefutable proofs; or else perhaps a couple of pistols, or an old +family sword seized in the house of a peaceful citizen, would be brought +against a prisoner, as an irrefutable proof of his warlike dispositions +against the Republic. + +Oh! it was not difficult! + +Out of five and thirty indictments, Foucquier-Tinville had obtained +thirty convictions. + +No wonder his friends declared that he had surpassed himself. It had +indeed been a glorious day, and the glow of satisfaction as much as the +heat, caused the Public Prosecutors to mop his high, bony cranium before +he had adjourned for the much-needed respite for refreshment. + +The day's work was not yet done. + +The "politicals" had been disposed of, and there had been such an +accumulation of them recently that it was difficult to keep pace with +the arrests. + +And in the meanwhile the criminal record of the great city had not +diminished. Because men butchered one another in the name of Equality, +there were none the fewer among the Fraternity of thieves and petty +pilferers, of ordinary cut-throats and public wantons. + +And these too had to be dealt with by law. The guillotine was impartial, +and fell with equal velocity on the neck of the proud duke and the +gutter-born _fille de joie,_ on a descendant of the Bourbons and the +wastrel born in a brothel. + +The ministerial decrees favoured the proletariat. A crime against the +Republic was indefensible, but one against the individual was dealt +with, with all the paraphernalia of an elaborate administration of +justice. There were citizen judges and citizen advocates, and the +rabble, who crowded in to listen to the trials, acted as honorary jury. + +It was all thoroughly well done. The citizen criminals were given every +chance. + +The afternoon of this hot August day, one of the last of glorious +Fructidor, had begun to wane, and the shades of evening to slowly creep +into the long, bare room where this travesty of justice was being +administered. + +The Citizen-President sat at the extreme end of the room, on a rough +wooden bench, with a desk in front of him littered with papers. + +Just above him, on the bare, whitewashed wall, the words: "_La +République: une et indivisible,_" and below them the device: "_Liberté, +Egalité, Fraternité!_" + +To the right and left of the Citizen-President, four clerks were busy +making entries in that ponderous ledger, that amazing record of the +foulest crimes the world has ever known, the "_Bulletin du Tribunal +Révolutionnaire._" + +At present no one is speaking, and the grating of the clerks' quill pens +against the paper is the only sound which disturbs the silence of the +hall. + +In front of the President, on a bench lower than his, sits Citizen +Foucquier-Tinville, rested and refreshed, ready to take up his +occupation, for as many hours as his country demands it of him. + +On every desk a tallow candle, smoking and spluttering, throws a weird +light, and more weird shadows, on the faces of clerks and President, on +blank walls and ominous devices. + +In the centre of the room a platform surrounded by an iron railing is +ready for the accused. Just in front of it, from the tall, raftered +ceiling above, there hangs a small brass lamp, with a green _abat-jour._ + +Each side of the long, whitewashed walls there are three rows of +benches, beautiful old carved oak pews, snatched from Notre Dame and +from the Churches of St Eustache and St Germain l'Auxerrois. Instead of +the pious worshippers of mediaeval times, they now accommodate the +lookers-on of the grim spectacle of unfortunates, in their brief halt +before the scaffold. + +The front row of these benches is reserved for those citizen-deputies +who desire to be present at the debates of the Tribunal Révolutionnaire. +It is their privilege, almost their duty, as representatives of the +people, to see that the sittings are properly conducted. + +These benches are already well filled. At one end, on the left, Citizen +Merlin, Minister of Justice, sits; next to him Citizen-Minister Lebrun; +also Citizen Robespierre, still in the height of his ascendancy, and +watching the proceedings with those pale, watery eyes of his and that +curious, disdainful smile, which have earned for him the nickname of +"the sea-green incorruptible." + +Other well-known faces are there also, dimly outlined in the +fast-gathering gloom. But everyone notes Citizen-Deputy Déroulède, the +idol of the people, as he sits on the extreme end of a bench on the +right, with arms tightly folded across his chest, the light from the +hanging lamp falling straight on his dark head and proud, straight +brows, with the large, restless, eager eyes. + +Anon the Citizen-President rings a hand-bell, and there is a discordant +noise of hoarse laughter and loud curses, some pushing, jolting, and +swearing, as the general public is admitted into the hall. + +Heaven save us! What a rabble! Has humanity really such a scum? + +Women with a single ragged kirtle and shift, through the interstices of +which the naked, grime-covered flesh shows shamelessly: with bare legs, +and feet thrust into heavy sabots, hair dishevelled, and evil, +spirit-sodden faces: women without a semblance of womanhood, with +shrivelled, barren breasts, and dry, parched lips, that have never known +how to kiss. Women without emotion save that of hate, without desire, +save for the satisfaction of hunger and thirst, and lust for revenge +against their sisters less wretched, less unsexed than themselves. They +crowd in, jostling one another, swarming into the front rows of the +benches, where they can get a better view of the miserable victims about +to be pilloried before them. + +And the men without a semblance of manhood. Bent under the heavy care of +their own degradation, dead to pity, to love, to chivalry; dead to all +save an inordinate longing for the sight of blood. + +And God help them all! for there were the children too. Children--save +the mark!--with pallid, precocious little faces, pinched with the +ravages of starvation, gazing with dim, filmy eyes on this world of +rapacity and hideousness. Children who have seen death! + +Oh, the horror of it! Not beautiful, peaceful death, a slumber or a +dream, a loved parent or fond sister or brother lying all in white +amidst a wealth of flowers, but death in its most awesome aspect, +violent, lurid, horrible. + +And now they stare around them with eager, greedy eyes, awaiting the +amusement of the spectacle; gazing at the President, with his tall +Phrygian cap; at the clerks wielding their indefatigable quill pens, +writing, writing, writing; at the flickering lights, throwing clouds of +sooty smoke, up to the dark ceiling above. + +Then suddenly the eyes of one little mite--a poor, tiny midget not yet +in her teens--alight on Paul Déroulède's face, on the opposite side of +the rooms. + +"_Tiens!_ Papa Déroulède!" she says, pointing an attenuated little +finger across at him, and turning eagerly to those around her, her eyes +dilating in wishful recollection of a happy afternoon spent in Papa +Déroulède's house, with fine white bread to eat in plenty, and great +jars of foaming milk. + +He rouses himself from his apathy, and his great earnest eyes lose their +look of agonised misery, as he responds to the greeting of the little +one. + +For one moment--oh! a mere fraction of a second--the squalid faces, the +miserable, starved expressions of the crowd, soften at sight of him. +There is a faint murmur among the women, which perhaps God's recording +angel registered as a blessing. Who knows? + +Foucquier-Tinville suppresses a sneer, and the Citizen-President +impatiently rings his hand-bell again. + +"Bring forth the accused!" he commands in stentorian tones. + +There is a movement of satisfaction among the crowd, and the angel of +God is forced to hide his face again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +The trial of Juliette. + + +It is all indelibly placed on record in the "Bulletin du Tribunal +Révolutionnaire," under date 25th Fructidor, year I. of the Revolution. + +Anyone who cares may read, for the Bulletin is in the Archives of the +Bibliothèque Nationale of Paris. + +One by one the accused had been brought forth, escorted by two men of +the National Guard in ragged, stained uniforms of red, white, and blue; +they were then conducted to the small raised platform in the centre of +the hall, and made to listen to the charge brought against them by +Citizen Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Presecutor. + +They were petty charges mostly: pilfering, fraud, theft, occasionally +arson or manslaughter. One man, however, was arraigned for murder with +highway robbery, and a woman for the most ignoble traffic, which evil +feminine ingenuity could invent. + +These two were condemned to the guillotine, the others sent to the +galleys at Brest or Toulon--the forger along with the petty thief, the +housebreaker with the absconding clerk. + +There was no room in the prison for ordinary offences against the +criminal code; they were overfilled already with so-called traitors +against the Republic. + +Three women were sent to the penitentiary at the Salpêtriere, and were +dragged out of the court shrilly protesting their innocence, and +followed by obscene jeers from the spectators on the benches. + +Then there was a momentary hush. + +Juliette Marny had been brought in. + +She was quite calm, and exquisitely beautiful, dressed in a plain grey +bodice and kirtle, with a black band round her slim waist and a soft +white kerchief folded across her bosom. Beneath the tiny, white cap her +golden hair appeared in dainty, curly profusion; her child-like, oval +face was very white, but otherwise quite serene. + +She seemed absolutely unconscious of her surroundings, and walked with a +firm step up to the platform, looking neither to the right nor to the +left of her. + +Therefore she did not see Déroulède. A great, a wonderful radiance +seemed to shine in her large eyes--the radiance of self-sacrifice. + +She was offering not only her life, but everything a woman of refinement +holds most dear, for the safety of the man she loved. + +A feeling that was almost physical pain, so intense was it, overcame +Déroulède, when at last he heard her name loudly called by the Public +Prosecutor. + +All day he had waited for this awful moment, forgetting his own misery, +his own agonised feeling of an irretrievable loss, in the horrible +thought of what _she_ would endure, what _she_ would think, when first +she realised the terrible indignity, which was to be put upon her. + +Yet for the sake of her, of her chances of safety and of ultimate +freedom, it was undoubtedly best that it should be so. + +Arraigned for conspiracy against the Republic, she was liable to secret +trial, to be brought up, condemned, and executed before he could even +hear of her whereabouts, before he could throw himself before her judges +and take all guilt upon himself. + +Those suspected of treason against the Republic forfeited, according to +Merlin's most iniquitous Law, their rights of citizenship, in publicity +of trial and in defence. + +It all might have been finished before Déroulède knew anything of it. + +The other way was, of course, more terrible. Brought forth amongst the +scum of criminal Paris, on a charge, the horror of which, he could but +dimly hope that she was too innocent to fully understand, he dared not +even think of what she would suffer. + +But undoubtedly it was better so. + +The mud thrown at her robes of purity could never cling to her, and at +least her trial would be public; he would be there to take all infamy, +all disgrace, all opprobrium on himself. + +The strength of his appeal would turn her judges' wrath from her to him; +and after these few moments of misery, she would be free to leave Paris, +France, to be happy, and to forget him and the memory of him. + +An overwhelming, all-compelling love filled his entire soul for the +beautiful girl, who had so wronged, yet so nobly tried to save him. A +longing for her made his very sinews ache; she was no longer madonna, +and her beauty thrilled him, with the passionate, almost sensuous desire +to give his life for her. + +The indictment against Juliette Marny has become history now. + +On that day, the 25th Fructidor, at seven o'clock in the evening, it was +read out by the Public Prosecutor, and listened to by the accused--so +the Bulletin tells us--with complete calm and apparent indifference. She +stood up in that same pillory where once stood poor, guilty Charlotte +Corday, where presently would stand proud, guiltless Marie Antoinette. + +And Déroulède listened to the scurrilous document, with all the outward +calm his strength of will could command. He would have liked to rise +from his seat then and there, at once, and in mad, purely animal fury +have, with a blow of his fist, quashed the words in Foucquier-Tinville's +lying throat. + +But for her sake he was bound to listen, and, above all, to act quietly, +deliberately, according to form and procedure, so as in no way to +imperil her cause. + +Therefore he listened whilst the Public Prosecutor spoke. + +"Juliette Marny, you are hereby accused of having, by a false and +malicious denunciation, slandered the person of a representative of the +people; you caused the Revolutionary Tribunal, through this same +mischievous act, to bring a charge against this representative of the +people, to institute a domiciliary search in his house, and to waste +valuable time, which otherwise belonged to the service of the Republic. +And this you did, not from a misguided sense of duty towards your +country, but in wanton and impure spirit, to be rid of the surveillance +of one who had your welfare at heart, and who tried to prevent your +leading the immoral life which had become a public scandal, and which +has now brought you before this court of justice, to answer to a charge +of wantonness, impurity, defamation of character, and corruption of +public morals. In proof of which I now place before the court your own +admission, that more than one citizen of the Republic has been led by +you into immoral relationship with yourself; and further, your own +admission, that your accusation against Citizen-Deputy Déroulède was +false and mischievous; and further, and finally, your immoral and +obscene correspondence with some persons unknown, which you vainly tried +to destroy. In consideration of which, and in the name of the people of +France, whose spokesman I am, I demand that you be taken hence from this +Hall of Justice to the Place de la Révolution, in full view of the +citizens of Paris and its environs, and clad in a soiled white garment, +emblem of the smirch upon your soul, that there you be publicly whipped +by the hands of Citizen Samson, the public executioner; after which, +that you be taken to the prison of the Salpêtriere, there to be further +detained at the discretion of the Committee of Public Safety. And now, +Juliette Marny, you have heard the indictment preferred against you, +have you anything to say, why the sentence which I have demanded shall +not be passed upon you?" + +Jeers, shouts, laughter, and curses greeted this speech of the Public +Prosecutor. + +All that was most vile and most bestial in this miserable, misguided +people struggling for Utopia and Liberty, seemed to come to the surface, +whilst listening to the reading of this most infamous document. + +The delight of seeing this beautiful, ethereal woman, almost unearthly +in her proud aloofness, smirched with the vilest mud to which the +vituperation of man can contrive to sink, was a veritable treat to the +degraded wretches. + +The women yelled hoarse approval; the children, not understanding, +laughed in mirthless glee; the men, with loud curses, showed their +appreciation of Foucquier-Tinville's speech. + +As for Déroulède, the mental agony he endured surpassed any torture +which the devils, they say, reserve for the damned. His sinews cracked +in his frantic efforts to control himself; he dug his finger-nails into +his flesh, trying by physical pain to drown the sufferings of his mind. + +He thought that his reason was tottering, that he would go mad if he +heard another word of this infamy. The hooting and yelling of that +filthy mob sounded like the cries of lost souls, shrieking from hell. +All his pity for them was gone, his love for humanity, his devotion to +the suffering poor. + +A great, an immense hatred for this ghastly Revolution and the people it +professed to free filled his whole being, together with a mad, hideous +desire to see them suffer, starve, die a miserable, loathsome death. The +passion of hate, that now overwhelmed his soul, was at least as ugly as +theirs. He was, for one brief moment, now at one with them in their +inordinate lust for revenge. + +Only Juliette throughout all this remained calm, silent, impassive. + +She had heard the indictment, heard the loathsome sentence, for her +white cheeks had gradually become ashy pale, but never for a moment did +she depart from her attitude of proud aloofness. + +She never once turned her head towards the mob who insulted her. She +waited in complete passiveness until the yelling and shouting had +subsided, motionless save for her finger-tips, which beat an impatient +tattoo upon the railing in front of her. + +The Bulletin says that she took out her handkerchief and wiped her face +with it. _Elle s'essuya le front qui fut perlé de sueur._ The heat had +become oppressive. + +The atmosphere was overcharged with the dank, penetrating odour of +steaming, dirty clothes. The room, though vast, was close and +suffocating, the tallow candles flickering in the humid, hot air threw +the faces of the President and clerks into bold relief, with curious +caricature effects of light and shade. + +The petrol lamp above the head of the accused had flared up, and begun +to smoke, causing the chimney to crack with a sharp report. This +diversion effected a momentary silence among the crowd, and the Public +Prosecutor was able to repeat his query: + +"Juliette Marny, have you anything to say in reply to the charge brought +against you, and why the sentence which I have demanded should not be +passed against you?" + +The sooty smoke from the lamp came down in small, black, greasy +particles; Juliette with her slender finger-tips flicked one of these +quietly off her sleeve, then she replied: + +"No; I have nothing to say." + +"Have you instructed an advocate to defend you, according to your rights +of citizenship, which the Law allows?" added the Public Prosecutor +solemnly. + +Juliette would have replied at once; her mouth had already framed the No +with which she meant to answer. + +But now at last had come Déroulède's hour. For this he had been silent, +had suffered and had held his peace, whilst twice twenty-four hours had +dragged their weary lengths along, since the arrest of the woman he +loved. + +In a moment he was on his feet before them all, accustomed to speak, to +dominate, to command. + +"Citizeness Juliette Marny has entrusted me with her defence," he said, +even before the No had escaped Juliette's white lips, "and I am here to +refute the charges brought against her, and to demand in the name of the +people of France full acquittal and justice for her." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +The defence. + + +Intense excitement, which found vent in loud applause, greeted +Déroulède's statement. + +"_Ça ira! ça ira! vas-y Déroulède!_" came from the crowded benches +round; and men, women, and children, wearied with the monotony of the +past proceedings, settled themselves down for a quarter of an hour's +keen enjoyment. + +If Déroulède had anything to do with it, the trial was sure to end in +excitement. And the people were always ready to listen to their special +favourite. + +The citizen-deputies, drowsy after the long, oppressive day, seemed to +rouse themselves to renewed interest. Lebrun, like a big, shaggy dog, +shook himself free from creeping somnolence. Robespierre smiled between +his thin lips, and looked across at Merlin to see how the situation +affected him. The enmity between the Minister of Justice and Citizen +Déroulède was well known, and everyone noted, with added zest, that the +former wore a keen look of anticipated triumph. + +High up, on one of the topmost benches, sat Citizen Lenoir, the +stage-manager of this palpitating drama. He looked down, with obvious +satisfaction, at the scene which he himself had suggested last night to +the members of the Jacobin Club. Merlin's sharp eyes had tried to pierce +the gloom, which wrapped the crowd of spectators, searching vainly to +distinguish the broad figure and massive head of the provincial giant. + +The light from the petrol lamp shone full on Déroulède's earnest, dark +countenance as he looked Juliette's infamous accuser full in the face, +but the tallow candles, flickering weirdly on the President's desk, +threw Tinville's short, spare figure and large, unkempt head into +curious grotesque silhouette. + +Juliette apparently had lost none of her calm, and there was no one +there sufficiently interested in her personality to note the tinge of +delicate colour which, at the first word of Déroulède, had slowly +mounted to her pale cheeks. + +Tinville waited until the wave of excitement had broken upon the shoals +of expectancy. + +Then he resumed: + +"Then, Citizen Déroulède, what have _you_ to say, why sentence should +not be passed upon the accused?" + +"I have to say that the accused is innocent of every charge brought +against her in your indictment," replied Déroulède firmly. + +"And how do you substantiate this statement, Citizen-Deputy?" queried +Tinville, speaking with mock unctuousness. + +"Very simply, Citizen Tinville. The correspondence to which you refer +did not belong to the accused, but to me. It consisted of certain +communications, which I desired to hold with Marie Antoinette, now a +prisoner in the Conciergerie, during my state there as +lieutenant-governor. The Citizeness Juliette Marny, by denouncing me, +was serving the Republic, for my communications with Marie Antoinette +had reference to my own hopes of seeing her quit this country and take +refuge in her own native land." + +Gradually, as Déroulède spoke, a murmur, like the distant roar of a +monstrous breaker, rose among the crowd on the upper benches. As he +continued quietly and firmly, so it grew in volume and in intensity, +until his last words were drowned in one mighty, thunderous shout of +horror and execration. + +Déroulède, the friend and idol of the people, the privileged darling of +this unruly population, the father of the children, the friend of the +women, the sympathiser in all troubles, Papa Déroulède as the little +ones called him--he a traitor, self-accused, plotting and planning for +an ex-tyrant, a harlot who had called herself a queen, for Marie +Antoinette the Austrian, who had desired and worked for the overthrow of +France! He, Déroulède, a traitor! + +In one moment, as he spoke, the love which in their crude hearts they +bore him, that animal primitive love, was turned to sudden, equally +irresponsible hate. He had deceived them, laughed at them, tried to +bribe them by feeding their little ones! + +Bah! the bread of the traitor! It might have choked the children. + +Surprise at first had taken their breath away. Already they had +marvelled why he should stand up to defend a wanton. And now, probably +feeling that he was on the point of being found out, he thought it +better to make a clean breast of his own treason, trusting in his +popularity, in his power over the people. + +Bah!!! + +Not one extenuating circumstance did they find in their hardened hearts +for him. + +He had been their idol, enshrined in their squalid, degraded minds, and +now he had fallen, shattered beyond recall, and they hated and loathed +him as much as they had loved him before. + +And this his enemies noted, and smiled with complete satisfaction. + +Merlin heaved a sigh of relief. Tinville nodded his shaggy head, in +token of intense delight. + +What that provincial coal-heaver had foretold had indeed come to pass. + +The populace, that most fickle of all fickle things in this world, had +turned all at once against its favourite. This Lenoir had predicted, and +the transition had been even more rapid than he had anticipated. + +Déroulède had been given a length of rope, and, figuratively speaking, +had already hanged himself. + +The reality was a mere matter of a few hours now. At dawn to-morrow the +guillotine; and the mob of Paris, who yesterday would have torn his +detractors limb from limb, would on the morrow be dragging him, with +hoots and yells and howls of execration, to the scaffold. + +The most shadowy of all footholds, that of the whim of a populace, had +already given way under him. His enemies knew it, and were exulting in +their triumph. He knew it himself, and stood up, calmly defiant, ready +for any event, if only he succeeded in snatching her beautiful head from +the ready embrace of the guillotine. + +Juliette herself had remained as if entranced. The colour had again fled +from her cheeks, leaving them paler, more ashen than before. It seemed +as if in this moment she suffered more than human creature could bear, +more than any torture she had undergone hitherto. + +He would not owe his life to her. + +That was the one overwhelming thought in her, which annihilated all +others. His love for her was dead, and he would not accept the great +sacrifice at her hands. + +Thus these two in the supreme moment of their life saw each other, yet +did not understand. A word, a touch would have given them both the key +to one another's heart, and it now seemed as if death would part them +for ever, whilst that great enigma remained unsolved. + +The Public Prosecutor had been waiting until the noise had somewhat +subsided, and his voice could be heard above the din, then he said, with +a smile of ill-concealed satisfaction: + +"And is the court, then, to understand, Citizen-Deputy Déroulède, that +it was you who tried to burn the treasonable correspondence and to +destroy the case which contained it?" + +"The treasonable correspondence was mine, and it was I who destroyed +it." + +"But the accused admitted before Citizen Merlin that she herself was +trying to burn certain love letters, that would have brought to light +her illicit relationship with another man than yourself," argued +Tinville suavely. The rope was perhaps not quite long enough; Déroulède +must have all that could be given him, ere this memorable sitting was +adjourned. + +Déroulède, however, instead of directing his reply straight to his +enemy, now turned towards the dense crowd of spectators, on the benches +opposite to him. + +"Citizens, friends, brothers," he said warmly, "the accused is only a +girl, young, innocent knowing nothing of peril or of sin. You all have +mothers, sisters, daughters--have you not watched those dear to you in +the many moods of which a feminine heart is capable; have you not seen +them affectionate, tender, and impulsive? Would you love them so dearly +but for the fickleness of their moods? Have you not worshipped them in +your hearts, for those sublime impulses which put all man's plans and +calculations to shame? Look on the accused, citizens. She loves the +Republic, the people of France, and feared that I, an unworthy +representative of her sons, was hatching treason against our great +mother. That was her first wayward impulse--to stop me before I +committed the awful crime, to punish me, or perhaps only to warn me. +Does a young girl calculate, citizens? She acts as her heart dictates; +her reason but awakes from slumber later on, when the act is done. Then +comes repentance sometimes: another impulse of tenderness which we all +revere. Would you extract vinegar from rose leaves? Just as readily +could you find reason in a young girl's head. Is that a crime? She +wished to thwart me in my treason; then, seeing me in peril, the sincere +friendship she had for me gained the upper hand once more. She loved my +mother, who might be losing a son; she loved my crippled foster-sister; +for _their_ sakes, not for mine--a traitor's--did she yield to another, +a heavenly impulse, that of saving me from the consequences of my own +folly. Was _that_ a crime, citizens? When you are ailing, do not your +mothers, sisters, wives tend you? when you are seriously ill, would they +not give their heart's blood to save you? and when, in the dark hours of +your lives, some deed which you would not openly avow before the world +overweights your soul with its burden of remorse, is it not again your +womenkind who come to you, with tender words and soothing voices, trying +to ease your aching conscience, bringing solace, comfort, and peace? And +so it was with the accused, citizens. She had seen my crime, and longed +to punish it; she saw those who had befriended her in sorrow, and she +tried to ease their pain by taking _my_ guilt upon her shoulders. She +has suffered for the noble lie, which she had told on my behalf, as no +woman has ever been made to suffer before. She has stood, white and +innocent as your new-born children, in the pillory of infamy. She was +ready to endure death, and what was ten thousand times worse than death, +because of her own warm-hearted affection. But you, citizens of France, +who, above all, are noble, true, and chivalrous, you will not allow the +sweet impulses of young and tender womanhood to be punished with the ban +of felony. To you, women of France, I appeal in the name of your +childhood, your girlhood, your motherhood; take her to your hearts, she +is worthy of it, worthier now for having blushed before you, worthier +than any heroine in the great roll of honour of France." + +His magnetic voice went echoing along the rafters of the great, sordid +Hall of Justice, filling it with a glory it had never known before. His +enthusiasm thrilled his hearers, his appeal to their honour and chivalry +roused all the finer feelings within them. Still hating him for his +treason, his magical appeal had turned their hearts towards her. + +They had listened to him without interruption, and now at last, when he +paused, it was very evident, by muttered exclamations and glances cast +at Juliette, that popular feeling, which up to the present had +practically ignored her, now went out towards her personality with +overwhelming sympathy. + +Obviously at the present moment, if Juliette's fate had been put to the +plebiscite, she would have been unanimously acquitted. + +Merlin, as Déroulède spoke, had once or twice tried to read his friend +Foucquier-Tinville's enigmatical expression, but the Public Prosecutor, +with his face in deep shadow, had not moved a muscle during the +Citizen-Deputy's noble peroration. He sat at his desk, chin resting on +hand, staring before him with an expression of indifference, almost of +boredom. + +Now, when Déroulède finished speaking, and the outburst of human +enthusiasm had somewhat subsided, he rose slowly to his feet, and said +quietly: + +"So you maintain, Citizen-Deputy, that the accused is a chaste and +innocent girl, unjustly charged with immorality?" + +"I do," protested Déroulède loudly. + +"And will you tell the court why you are so ready to publicly accuse +yourself of treason against the Republic, knowing full well all the +consequences of your action?" + +"Would any Frenchman care to save his own life at the expense of a +woman's honour?" retorted Déroulède proudly. + +A murmur of approval greeted these words, and Tinville remarked +unctuously: + +"Quite so, quite so. We esteem your chivalry, Citizen-Deputy. The same +spirit, no doubt, actuates you to maintain that the accused knew nothing +of the papers which you say you destroyed?" + +"She knew nothing of them. I destroyed them; I did not know that they +had been found; on my return to my house I discovered that the +Citizeness Juliette Marny had falsely accused herself of having +destroyed some papers surreptitiously." + +"She said they were love letters." + +"It is false." + +"You declare her to be pure and chaste?" + +"Before the whole world." + +"Yet you were in the habit of frequenting the bedroom of this pure and +chaste girl, who dwelt under your roof," said Tinville with slow and +deliberate sarcasm. + +"It is false." + +"If it be false, Citizen Déroulède," continued the other with the same +unctuous suavity, "then how comes it that the correspondence which you +admit was treasonable, and therefore presumably secret--how comes it +that it was found, still smouldering, in the chaste young woman's +bedroom, and the torn letter-case concealed among her dresses in a +valise?" + +"It is false." + +"The Minister of Justice, Citizen-Deputy Merlin, will answer for the +truth of that." + +"It is the truth," said Juliette quietly. + +Her voice rang out clear, almost triumphant, in the midst of the +breathless pause, caused by the previous swift questions and loud +answers. + +Déroulède now was silent. + +This one simple fact he did not know. Anne Mie, in telling him the +events in connection with the arrest of Juliette, had omitted to give +him the one little detail, that the burnt letters were found in the +young girl's bedroom. + +Up to the moment when the Public Prosecutor confronted him with it, he +had been under the impression that she had destroyed the papers and the +letter-case in the study, where she had remained alone after Merlin and +his men had left the room. She could easily have burnt them there, as a +tiny spirit lamp was always kept alight on a side table for the use of +smokers. + +This little fact now altered the entire course of events. Tinville had +but to frame an indignant ejaculation: + +"Citizens of France, see how you are being befooled and hoodwinked!" + +Then he turned once more to Déroulède. + +"Citizen Déroulède ..." he began. + +But in the tumult that ensued he could no longer hear his own voice. The +pent-up rage of the entire mob of Paris seemed to find vent for itself +in the howls with which the crowd now tried to drown the rest of the +proceedings. + +As their brutish hearts had been suddenly melted on behalf of Juliette, +in response to Déroulède's passionate appeal, so now they swiftly +changed their sympathetic attitude to one of horror and execration. + +Two people had fooled and deceived them. One of these they had +reverenced and trusted, as much as their degraded minds were capable of +reverencing anything, therefore _his_ sin seemed doubly damnable. + +He and that pale-face aristocrat had for weeks now, months, or years +perhaps, conspired against the Republic, against the Revolution, which +had been made by a people thirsting for liberty. During these months and +years _he_ had talked to them, and they had listened; he had poured +forth treasures of eloquence, cajoled them, as he had done just now. + +The noise and hubbub were growing apace. If Tinville and Merlin had +desired to infuriate the mob, they had more than succeeded. All that was +most bestial, most savage in this awful Parisian populace rose to the +surface now in one wild, mad desire for revenge. + +The crowd rushed down from the benches, over one another's heads, over +children's fallen bodies; they rushed down because they wanted to get at +him, their whilom favourite, and at his pale-faced mistress, and tear +them to pieces, hit them, scratch out their eyes. They snarled like so +many wild beasts, the women shrieked, the children cried, and the men of +the National Guard, hurrying forward, had much ado to keep back this +flood-tide of hate. + +Had any of them broken loose, from behind the barrier of bayonets +hastily raised against them, it would have fared ill with Déroulède and +Juliette. + +The President wildly rang his bell, and his voice, quivering with +excitement, was heard once or twice above the din. + +"Clear the court! Clear the court!" + +But the people refused to be cleared out of court. + +"_A la lanterne les traîtres! Mort à Déroulède. A la lanterne! +l'aristo!_" + +And in the thickest of the crowd, the broad shoulders and massive head +of Citizen Lenoir towered above the others. + +At first it seemed as if he had been urging on the mob in its fury. His +strident voice, with its broad provincial accent, was heard distinctly +shouting loud vituperations against the accused. + +Then at a given moment, when the tumult was at its height, when the +National Guard felt their bayonets giving way before this onrushing tide +of human jackals, Lenoir changed his tactics. + +"_Tiens! c'est bête!_" he shouted loudly, "we shall do far better with +the traitors when we get them outside. What say you, citizens? Shall we +leave the judges here to conclude the farce, and arrange for its sequel +ourselves outside the 'Tigre Jaune'?" + +At first but little heed was paid to his suggestion, and he repeated it +once or twice, adding some interesting details: + +"One is freer in the streets, where these apes of the National Guard +can't get between the people of France and their just revenge. _Ma +foi!_" he added, squaring his broad shoulders, and pushing his way +through the crowd towards the door, "I for one am going to see where +hangs the most suitable _lanterne._" + +Like a flock of sheep the crowd now followed him. + +"The nearest _lanterne!_" they shouted. "In the streets--in the streets! +_A la lanterne!_ The traitors!" + +And with many a jeer, many a loathsome curse, and still more loathsome +jests, some of the crowd began to file out. A few only remained to see +the conclusion of the farce. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +Sentence of death. + + +The "Bulletin du Tribunal Révolutionnaire" tells us that both the +accused had remained perfectly calm during the turmoil which raged +within the bare walls of the Hall of Justice. + +Citizen-Deputy Déroulède, however, so the chroniclers aver, though +outwardly impassive, was evidently deeply moved. He had very expressive +eyes, clear mirrors of the fine, upright soul within, and in them there +was a look of intense emotion as he watched the crowd, which he had so +often dominated and controlled, now turning in hatred against him. + +He seemed actually to be seeing with a spiritual vision, his own +popularity wane and die. + +But when the thick of the crowd had pushed and jostled itself out of the +hall, that transient emotion seemed to disappear, and he allowed himself +quietly to be led from the front bench, where he had sat as a privileged +member of the National Convention, to a place immediately behind the +dock, and between two men of the National Guard. + +From that moment he was a prisoner, accused of treason against the +Republic, and obviously his mock trial would be hurried through by his +triumphant enemies, whilst the temper of the people was at boiling point +against him. + +Complete silence had succeeded to the raging tumult of the past few +moments. Nothing now could be heard in the vast room, save +Foucquier-Tinville's hastily whispered instructions to the clerk nearest +to him, and the scratch of the latter's quill pen against the paper. + +The President was, with equal rapidity, affixing his signature to +various papers handed up to him by the other clerks. The few remaining +spectators, the deputies, and those among the crowd who had elected to +see the close of the debate, were silent and expectant. + +Merlin was mopping his forehead as if in intense fatigue after a hard +struggle; Robespierre was coolly taking snuff. + +From where Déroulède stood, he could see Juliette's graceful figure +silhouetted against the light of the petrol lamp. His heart was torn +between intense misery at having failed to save her and a curious, +exultant joy at thought of dying beside her. + +He knew the procedure of this revolutionary tribunal well--knew that +within the next few moments he too would be condemned, that they would +both be hustled out of the crowd and dragged through the streets of +Paris, and finally thrown into the same prison, to herd with those who, +like themselves, had but a few hours to live. + +And then to-morrow at dawn, death for them both under the guillotine. +Death in public, with all its attendant horrors: the packed tumbril; the +priest, in civil clothes, appointed by this godless government, +muttering conventional prayers and valueless exhortations. + +And in his heart there was nothing but love for her--love and an intense +pity--for the punishment she was suffering was far greater than her +crime. He hoped that in her heart remorse would not be too bitter; and +he looked forward with joy to the next few hours, which he would pass +near her, during which he could perhaps still console and soothe her. + +She was but the victim of an ideal, of Fate stronger than her own will. +She stood, an innocent martyr to the great mistake of her life. + +But the minutes sped on. Foucquier-Tinville had evidently completed his +new indictments. + +The one against Juliette Marny was read out first. She was now accused +of conspiring with Paul Déroulède against the safety of the Republic, by +having cognisance of a treasonable correspondence carried on with the +prisoner, Marie Antoinette; by virtue of which accusation the Public +Prosecutor asked her if she had anything to say. + +"No," she replied loudly and firmly. "I pray to God for the safety and +deliverance of our Queen, Marie Antoinette, and for the overthrow of +this Reign of Terror and Anarchy." + +These words, registered in the "Bulletin du Tribunal Révolutionnaire" +were taken as final and irrefutable proofs of her guilt, and she was +then summarily condemned to death. + +She was then made to step down from the dock and Déroulède to stand in +her place. + +He listened quietly to the long indictment which Foucquier-Tinville had +already framed against him the evening before, in readiness for this +contingency. The words "treason against the Republic" occurred +conspicuously and repeatedly. The document itself is at one with the +thousands of written charges, framed by that odious Foucquier-Tinville +during these periods of bloodshed, and which in themselves are the most +scathing indictments against the odious travesty of Justice, perpetrated +with his help. + +Self-accused, and avowedly a traitor, Déroulède was not even asked if he +had anything to say; sentence of death was passed on him, with the +rapidity and callousness peculiar to these proceedings. + +After which Paul Déroulède and Juliette Marny were led forth, under +strong escort, into the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +The Fructidor Riots. + + +Many accounts, more or less authentic, have been published of the events +known to history as the "Fructidor Riots." + +But this is how it all happened: at any rate it is the version related +some few days later in England to the Prince of Wales by no less a +personage than Sir Percy Blakeney; and who indeed should know better +than The Scarlet Pimpernel himself? + +Déroulède and Juliette Marny were the last of the batch of prisoners who +were tried on that memorable day of Fructidor. + +There had been such a number of these, that all the covered carts in use +for the conveyance of prisoners to and from the Hall of Justice had +already been despatched with their weighty human load; thus it was that +only a rough wooden cart, hoodless and rickety, was available, and into +this Déroulède and Juliette were ordered to mount. + +It was now close on nine o'clock in the evening. The streets of Paris, +sparsely illuminated here and there with solitary oil lamps swung across +from house to house on wires, presented a miserable and squalid +appearance. A thin, misty rain had begun to fall, transforming the +ill-paved roads into morasses of sticky mud. + +The Hall of Justice was surrounded by a howling and shrieking mob, who, +having imbibed all the stores of brandy in the neighbouring drinking +bars, was now waiting outside in the dripping rain for the express +purpose of venting its pent-up, spirit-sodden lust of rage against the +man whom it had once worshipped, but whom now it hated. Men, women, and +even children swarmed round the principal entrances of the Palais de +Justice, along the bank of the river as far as the Pont au Change, and +up towards the Luxembourg Palace, now transformed into the prison, to +which the condemned would no doubt be conveyed. + +Along the river-bank, and immediately facing the Palais de Justice, a +row of gallows-shaped posts, at intervals of a hundred yards or more, +held each a smoky petrol lamp, at a height of some eight feet from the +ground. + +One of these lamps had been knocked down, and from the post itself there +now hung ominously a length of rope, with a noose at the end. + +Around this improvised gallows a group of women sat, or rather squatted, +in the mud; their ragged shifts and kirtles, soaked through with the +drizzling rain, hung dankly on their emaciated forms; their hair, in +some cases grey, and in others dark or straw-coloured, clung matted +round their wet faces, on which the dirt and the damp had drawn weird +and grotesque lines. + +The men were restless and noisy, rushing aimlessly hither and thither, +from the corner of the bridge, up the Rue du Palais, fearful lest their +prey be conjured away ere their vengeance was satisfied. + +Oh, how they hated their former idol now! Citizen Lenoir, with his broad +shoulders and powerful, grime-covered head, towered above the throng; +his strident voice, with its raucous, provincial accent, could be +distinctly heard above the din, egging on the men, shouting to the +women, stirring up hatred against the prisoners, wherever it showed +signs of abating in intensity. + +The coal-heaver, hailing from some distant province, seemed to have set +himself the grim task of provoking the infuriated populace to some +terrible deed of revenge against Déroulède and Juliette. + +The darkness of the street, the fast-falling mist which obscured the +light from the meagre oil lamps, seemed to add a certain weirdness to +this moving, seething multitude. No one could see his neighbour. In the +blackness of the night the muttering or yelling figures moved about like +some spectral creatures from hellish regions--the Akous of Brittany who +call to those about to die; whilst the women squatting in the oozing +mud, beneath that swinging piece of rope, looked like a group of ghostly +witches, waiting for the hour of their Sabbath. + +As Déroulède emerged into the open, the light from a swinging lantern in +the doorway fell upon his face. The foremost of the crowd recognised +him; a howl of execration went up to the cloud-covered sky, and a +hundred hands were thrust out in deadly menace against him. + +It seemed as if they wished to tear him to pieces. + +"_A la lanterne! A la lanterne! le traître!_" + +He shivered slightly, as if with the sudden blast of cold, humid air, +but he stepped quietly into the cart, closely followed by Juliette. + +The strong escort of the National Guard, with Commandant Santerre and +his two drummers, had much ado to keep back the mob. It was not the +policy of the revolutionary government to allow excesses of summary +justice in the streets: the public execution of traitors on the Place de +la Révolution, the processions in the tumbrils, were thought to be +wholesome examples for other would-be traitors to mark and digest. + +Citizen Santerre, military commandant of Paris, had ordered his men to +use their bayonets ruthlessly, and, to further overawe the populace, he +ordered a prolonged roll of drums, lest Déroulède took it into his head +to speak to the crowd. + +But Déroulède had no such intention: he seemed chiefly concerned in +shielding Juliette from the cold; she had been made to sit in the cart +beside him, and he had taken off his coat, and was wrapping it round her +against the penetrating rain. + +The eye-witnesses of these memorable events have declared that, at a +given moment, he looked up suddenly with a curious, eager expression in +his eyes, and then raised himself in the cart and seemed to be trying to +penetrate the gloom round him, as if in search of a face, or perhaps a +voice. + +"_A la lanterne! A la lanterne!_" was the continual hoarse cry of the +mob. + +Up to now, flanked in their rear by the outer walls of the Palais de +Justice, the soldiers had found it a fairly easy task to keep the crowd +at bay. But there came a time when the cart was bound to move out into +the open, in order to convey the prisoners along, by the Rue du Palais, +up to the Luxembourg Prison. + +This task, however, had become more and more difficult every moment. The +people of Paris, who for two years had been told by its tyrants that it +was supreme lord of the universe, was mad with rage at seeing its +desires frustrated by a few soldiers. + +The drums had been greeted by terrific yells, which effectually drowned +their roll; the first movement of the cart was hailed by a veritable +tumult. + +Only the women who squatted round the gallows had not moved from their +position of vantage; one of these Mægæras was quietly readjusting the +rope, which had got out of place. + +But all the men and some of the women were literally besieging the cart, +and threatening the soldiers, who stood between them and the object of +their fury. + +It seemed as if nothing now could save Déroulède and Juliette from an +immediate and horrible death. + +"_A mort! A mort! A la lanterne les traîtres!_" + +Santerne himself, who had shouted himself hoarse, was at a loss what to +do. He had sent one man to the nearest cavalry barracks, but +reinforcements would still be some little time coming; whilst in the +meanwhile his men were getting exhausted, and the mob, more and more +excited, threatened to break through their line at every moment. + +There was not another second to be lost. + +Santerre was for letting the mob have its way, and he would willingly +have thrown it the prey for which it clamoured; but orders were orders, +and in the year I. of the Revolution it was not good to disobey. + +At this supreme moment of perplexity he suddenly felt a respectful touch +on his arm. + +Close behind him a soldier of the National Guard--not one of his own +men--was standing at attention, and holding a small, folded paper in his +hand. + +"Sent to you by the Minister of Justice," whispered the soldier +hurriedly. "The citizen-deputies have watched the tumult from the Hall; +they say, you must not lose an instant." + +Santerre withdrew from the front rank, up against the side of the cart, +where a rough stable lantern had been fixed. He took the paper from the +soldier's hand, and, hastily tearing it open, he read it by the dim +light of the lantern. + +As he read, his thick, coarse features expressed the keenest +satisfaction. + +"You have two more men with you?" he asked quickly. + +"Yes, citizen," replied the man, pointing towards his right; "and the +Citizen-Minister said you would give me two more." + +"You'll take the prisoners quietly across to the Prison of the Temple +--you understand that?" + +"Yes, citizen; Citizen Merlin has given me full instructions. You can +have the cart drawn back a little more under the shadow of the portico, +where the prisoners can be made to alight; they can then be given into my +charge. You in the meantime are to stay here with your men, round the +empty cart, as long as you can. Reinforcements have been sent for, and +must soon be here. When they arrive you are to move along with the cart, +as if you were making for the Luxembourg Prison. This manoeuvre will +give us time to deliver the prisoners safely at the Temple." + +The man spoke hurriedly and peremptorily, and Santerne was only too +ready to obey. He felt relieved at thought of reinforcements, and glad +to be rid of the responsibility of conducting such troublesome +prisoners. + +The thick mist, which grew more and more dense, favoured the new +manoeuvre, and the constant roll of drums drowned the hastily given +orders. + +The cart was drawn back into the deepest shadow of the great portico, +and whilst the mob were howling their loudest, and yelling out frantic +demands for the traitors, Déroulède and Juliette were summarily ordered +to step out of the cart. No one saw them, for the darkness here was +intense. + +"Follow quietly!" whispered a raucous voice in their ears as they did +so, "or my orders are to shoot you where you stand." + +But neither of them had any wish for resistance. Juliette, cold and +numb, was clinging to Déroulède, who had placed a protecting arm round +her. + +Santerne had told off two of his men to join the new escort of the +prisoners, and presently the small party, skirting the walls of the +Palais de Justice, began to walk rapidly away from the scene of the +riot. + +Déroulède noted that some half-dozen men seemed to be surrounding him +and Juliette, but the drizzling rain blurred every outline. The +blackness of the night too had become absolutely dense, and in the +distance the cries of the populace grew more and more faint. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +The unexpected. + + +The small party walked on in silence. It seemed to consist of a very few +men of the National Guard, whom Santerne had placed under the command of +the soldier who had transmitted to him the orders of the +Citizen-Deputies. + +Juliette and Déroulède both vaguely wondered whither they were being +led; to some other prison mayhap, away from the fury of the populace. +They were conscious of a sense of satisfaction at thought of being freed +from that pack of raging wild beasts. + +Beyond that they cared nothing. Both felt already the shadow of death +hovering over them. The supreme moment of their lives had come, and had +found them side by side. + +What neither fear nor remorse, sorrow nor joy, could do, that the great +and mighty Shadow accomplished in a trice. + +Juliette, looking death bravely in the face, held out her hand, and +sought that of the man she loved. + +There was not one word spoken between them, not even a murmur. + +Déroulède, with the unerring instinct of his own unselfish passion, +understood all that the tiny hand wished to convey to him. + +In a moment everything was forgotten save the joy of this touch. Death, +or the fear of death, had ceased to exist. Life was beautiful, and in +the soul of these two human creatures there was perfect peace, almost +perfect happiness. + +With one grasp of the hand they had sought and found one another's soul. +What mattered the yelling crowd, the noise and tumult of this sordid +world? They had found one another, and, hand-in-hand, +shoulder-to-shoulder, they had gone off wandering into the land of +dreams, where dwelt neither doubt nor treachery, where there was nothing +to forgive. + +He no longer said: "She does not love me--would she have betrayed me +else?" He felt the clinging, trustful touch of her hand, and knew that, +with all her faults, her great sin and her lasting sorrow, her woman's +heart, Heaven's most priceless treasure, was indeed truly his. + +And she knew that he had forgiven--nay, that he had naught to forgive +--for Love is sweet and tender, and judges not. Love is Love--whole, +trustful, passionate. Love is perfect understanding and perfect peace. + +And so they followed their escort whithersoever it chose to lead them. + +Their eyes wandered aimlessly over the mist-laden landscape of this +portion of deserted Paris. They had turned away from the river now, and +were following the Rue des Arts. Close by on the right was the dismal +little hostelry, "La Cruche Cassée," where Sir Percy Blakeney lived. +Déroulède, as they neared the place, caught himself vaguely wondering +what had become of his English friend. + +But it would take more than the ingenuity of the Scarlet Pimpernel to +get two noted prisoners out of Paris to-day. Even if ... + +"Halt!" + +The word of command rang out clearly and distinctly through the +rain-soaked atmosphere. + +Déroulède threw up his head and listened. Something strange and +unaccountable in that same word of command had struck his sensitive ear. + +Yet the party had halted, and there was a click as of bayonets or +muskets levelled ready to fire. + +All had happened in less than a few seconds. The next moment there was a +loud cry: + +"_A moi,_ Déroulède! 'tis the Scarlet Pimpernel!" + +A vigorous blow from an unseen hand had knocked down and extinguished +the nearest street lantern. + +Déroulède felt that he and Juliette were being hastily dragged under an +adjoining doorway even as the cheery voice echoed along the narrow +street. + +Half-a-dozen men were struggling below in the mud, and there was a +plentiful supply of honest English oaths. It looked as if the men of the +National Guard had fallen upon one another, and had it not been for +those same English oaths perhaps Déroulède and Juliette would have been +slower to understand. + +"Well done, Tony! Gadzooks, Ffoulkes, that was a smart bit of work!" + +The lazy, pleasant voice was unmistakable, but, God in heaven! where did +it come from? + +Of one thing there could be no doubt. The two men despatched by Santerne +were lying disabled on the ground, whilst three other soldiers were busy +pinioning them with ropes. + +What did it all mean? + +"La, friend Déroulède! you had not thought, I trust, that I would leave +Mademoiselle Juliette in such a demmed, uncomfortable hole?" + +And there, close beside Déroulède and Juliette, stood the tall figure of +the Jacobin orator, the bloodthirsty Citizen Lenoir. The two young +people gazed and gazed, then looked again, dumfounded, hardly daring to +trust their vision, for through the grime-covered mask of the gigantic +coal-heaver a pair of merry blue eyes was regarding them with +lazy-amusement. + +"La! I do look a miserable object, I know," said the pseudo coal-heaver +at last, "but 'twas the only way to get those murderous devils to do +what I wanted. A thousand pardons, mademoiselle; 'twas I brought you to +such a terrible pass, but la! you are amongst friends now. Will you +deign to forgive me?" + +Juliette looked up. Her great, earnest eyes, now swimming in tears, +sought those of the brave man who had so nobly stood by her and the man +she loved. + +"Blakeney ..." began Déroulède. + +But Sir Percy quickly interrupted him: + +"Hush, man! we have but a few moments. Remember you are in Paris still, +and the Lord only knows how we shall all get out of this murderous city +to-night. I have said that you and mademoiselle are among friends. That +is all for the moment. I had to get you together, or I should have +failed. I could only succeed by subjecting you and mademoiselle to +terrible indignities. Our League could plan but one rescue, and I had to +adopt the best means at my command to have you condemned and led away +together. Faith!" he added, with a pleasant laugh, "my friend Tinville +will not be pleased when he realises that Citizen Lenoir has dragged the +Citizen-Deputies by the nose." + +Whilst he spoke he had led Déroulède and Juliette into a dark and narrow +room on the ground floor of the hostelry, and presently he called loudly +for Brogard, the host of this uninviting abode. + +"Brogard!" shouted Sir Percy. "Where is that ass Brogard? La! man," he +added as Citizen Brogard, obsequious and fussy, and with pockets stuffed +with English gold, came shuffling along, "where do you hide your +engaging countenance? Here! another length of rope for the gallant +soldiers. Bring them in here, then give them that potion down their +throats, as I have prescribed. Demm it! I wish we need not have brought +them along, but that devil Santerre might have been suspicious else. +They'll come to no harm, though, and can do us no mischief." + +He prattled along merrily. Innately kind and chivalrous, he wished to +give Déroulède and Juliette time to recover from their dazed surprise. + +The transition from dull despair to buoyant hope had been so sudden: it +had all happened in less than three minutes. + +The scuffle had been short and sudden outside. The two soldiers of +Santerne had been taken completely unawares, and the three young +lieutenants of the Scarlet Pimpernel had fallen on them with such vigour +that they had hardly had time to utter a cry of "Help!" + +Moreover, that cry would have been useless. The night was dark and wet, +and those citizens who felt ready for excitement were busy mobbing the +Hall of Justice, a mile and a half away. One or two heads had appeared +at the small windows of the squalid houses opposite, but it was too dark +to see anything, and the scuffle had very quickly subsided. + +All was silent now in the Rue des Arts, and in the grimy coffee-room of +the Cruche Cassée two soldiers of the National Guard were lying bound +and gagged, whilst three others were gaily laughing, and wiping their +rain-soaked hands and faces. + +In the midst of them all stood the tall, athletic figure of the bold +adventurer who had planned this impudent coup. + +"La! we've got so far, friends, haven't we?" he said cheerily, "and now +for the immediate future. We must all be out of Paris to-night, or the +guillotine for the lot of us to-morrow." + +He spoke gaily, and with that pleasant drawl of his which was so well +known in the fashionable assemblies of London; but there was a ring of +earnestness in his voice, and his lieutenants looked up at him, ready to +obey him in all things, but aware that danger was looming threateningly +ahead. + +Lord Anthony Dewhurst, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, and Lord Hastings, dressed +as soldiers of the National Guard, had played their part to perfection. +Lord Hastings had presented the order to Santerre, and the three young +bucks, at the word of command from their chief, had fallen upon and +overpowered the two men whom the commandant of Paris had despatched to +look after the prisoners. + +So far all was well. But how to get out of Paris? Everyone looked to the +Scarlet Pimpernel for guidance. + +Sir Percy now turned to Juliette, and with the consummate grace which +the elaborate etiquette of the times demanded, he made her a courtly +bow. + +"Mademoiselle de Marny," he said, "allow me to conduct you to a room, +which though unworthy of your presence will, nevertheless, enable you to +rest quietly for a few minutes, whilst I give my friend Déroulède +further advice and instructions. In the room you will find a disguise, +which I pray you to don with all haste. La! they are filthy rags, I own, +but your life and--and ours depend upon your help." + +Gallantly he kissed the tips of her fingers, and opened the door of an +adjoining room to enable her to pass through; then he stood aside, so +that her final look, as she went, might be for Déroulède. + +As soon as the door had closed upon her he once more turned to the men. + +"Those uniforms will not do now," he said peremptorily; "there are +bundles of abominable clothes here, Tony. Will you all don them as +quickly as you can? We must all look as filthy a band of _sansculottes_ +to-night as ever walked the streets of Paris." + +His lazy drawl had deserted him now. He was the man of action and of +thought, the bold adventurer who held the lives of his friends in the +hollow of his hand. + +The four men hastily obeyed. Lord Anthony Dewhurst--one of the most +elegant dandies of London society--had brought forth from a dank +cupboard a bundle of clothes, mere rags, filthy but useful. + +Within ten minutes the change was accomplished, and four dirty, slouchy +figures stood confronting their chief. + +"That's capital!" said Sir Percy merrily. + +"Now for Mademoiselle de Marny." + +Hardly had he spoken when the door of the adjoining room was pushed +open, and a horrible apparition stood before the men. A woman in filthy +bodice and skirt, with face covered in grime, her yellow hair, matted +and greasy, thrust under a dirty and crumpled cap. + +A shout of rapturous delight greeted this uncanny apparition. + +Juliette, like the true woman she was, had found all her energy and +spirits now that she felt that she had an important part to play. She +woke from her dream to realise that noble friends had risked their lives +for the man she loved and for her. + +Of herself she did not think; she only remembered that her presence of +mind, her physical and mental strength, would be needed to carry the +rescue to a successful end. + +Therefore with the rags of a Paris _tricotteuse_ she had also donned her +personality. She played her part valiantly, and one look at the +perfection of her disguise was sufficient to assure the leader of this +band of heroes that his instructions would be carried through to the +letter. + +Déroulède too now looked the ragged _sansculotte_ to the life, with bare +and muddy feet, frayed breeches, and shabby, black-shag spencer. The +four men stood waiting together with Juliette, whilst Sir Percy gave +them his final instructions. + +"We'll mix with the crowd," he said, "and do all that the crowd does. It +is for us to see that that unruly crowd does what we want. Mademoiselle +de Marny, a thousand congratulations. I entreat you to take hold of my +friend Déroulède's hand, and not to let go of it, on any pretext +whatever. La! not a difficult task, I ween," he added, with his genial +smile; "and yours, Déroulède, is equally easy. I enjoin you to take +charge of Mademoiselle Juliette, and on no account to leave her side +until we are out of Paris." + +"Out of Paris!" echoed Déroulède, with a troubled sigh. + +"Aye!" rejoined Sir Percy boldly; "out of Paris! with a howling mob at +our heels causing the authorities to take double precautions. And above +all remember, friends, that our rallying cry is the shrill call of the +sea-mew thrice repeated. Follow it until you are outside the gates of +Paris. Once there, listen for it again; it will lead you to freedom and +safety at last. Aye! Outside Paris, by the grace of God." + +The hearts of his hearers thrilled as they heard him. Who could help but +follow this brave and gallant adventurer, with the magic voice and the +noble bearing? + +"And now _en route_!" said Blakeney finally, "that ass Santerre will +have dispersed the pack of yelling hyenas with his cavalry by now. +They'll to the Temple prison to find their prey; we'll in their wake. _A +moi,_ friends! and remember the sea-gull's cry." + +Déroulède drew Juliette's hand in his. + +"We are ready," he said; "and God bless the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +Then the five men, with Juliette in their midst, went out into the +street once more. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +Père Lachaise. + + +It was not difficult to guess which way the crowd had gone; yells, +hoots, and hoarse cries could be heard from the farther side of the +river. + +Citizen Santerne had been unable to keep the mob back until the arrival +of the cavalry reinforcements. Within five minutes of the abduction of +Déroulède and Juliette the crowd had broken through the line of +soldiers, and had stormed the cart, only to find it empty, and the prey +disappeared. + +"They are safe in the Temple by now!" shouted Santerne hoarsely, in +savage triumph at seeing them all baffled. + +At first it seemed as if the wrath of the infuriated populace, fooled in +its lust for vengeance, would vent itself against the commandant of +Paris and his soldiers; for a moment even Santerre's ruddy cheeks had +paled at the sudden vision of this unlooked for danger. + +Then just as suddenly the cry was raised. + +"To the Temple!" + +"To the Temple! To the Temple!" came in ready response. + +The cry was soon taken up by the entire crowd, and in less than two +minutes the purlieus of the Hall of Justice were deserted, and the Pont +St Michel, then the Cité and the Pont au Change, swarmed with the +rioters. Thence along the north bank of the river, and up the Rue du +Temple, the people still yelling, muttering, singing the "_Ça ira,_" and +shouting: "_A la lanterne! A la lanterne!_" + +Sir Percy Blakeney and his little band of followers had found the Pont +Neuf and the adjoining streets practically deserted. A few stragglers +from the crowd, soaked through with the rain, their enthusiasm damped, +and their throats choked with the mist, were sulkily returning to their +homes. + +The desultory group of six _sansculottes_ attracted little or no +attention, and Sir Percy boldly challenged every passer-by. + +"The way to the Rue du Temple, citizen?" he asked once or twice, or: + +"Have they hung the traitor yet? Can you tell me, citizeness?" + +A grunt or an oath were the usual replies, but no one took any further +notice of the gigantic coal-heaver and his ragged friends. + +At the corner of one of the cross streets, between the Rue du Temple and +the Rue des Archives, Sir Percy Blakeney suddenly turned to his +followers: + +"We are close to the rabble now," he said in a whisper, and speaking in +English; "do you all follow the nearest stragglers, and get as soon as +possible into the thickest of the crowd. We'll meet again outside the +prison--and remember the sea-gull's cry." + +He did not wait for an answer, and presently disappeared in the mist. + +Already a few stragglers, hangers-on of the multitude, were gradually +coming into view, and the yells could be distinctly heard. The mob had +evidently assembled in the great square outside the prison, and was +loudly demanding the object of its wrath. + +The moment for cool-headed action was at hand. The Scarlet Pimpernel had +planned the whole thing, but it was for his followers and for those, +whom he was endeavouring to rescue from certain death, to help him heart +and soul. + +Déroulède's grasp tightened on Juliette's little hand. + +"Are you frightened, my beloved?" he whispered. + +"Not whilst you are near me," she murmured in reply. + +A few more minutes' walk up the Rue des Archives and they were in the +thick of the crowd. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, Lord Anthony Dewhurst, and Lord +Hastings, the three Englishmen, were in front; Déroulède and Juliette +immediately behind them. + +The mob itself now carried them along. A motley throng they were, soaked +through with the rain, drunk with their own baffled rage, and with the +brandy which they had imbibed. + +Everyone was shouting; the women louder than the rest; one of them was +dragging the length of rope, which might still be useful. + +"_Ça ira! ça ira! A la lanterne! A la lanterne! les traîtres!_" + +And Déroulède, holding Juliette by the hand, shouted lustily with them: + +"_Ça ira!_" + +Sir Andrew Ffoulkes turned, and laughed. It was rare sport for these +young bucks, and they all entered into the spirit of the situation. They +all shouted "_A la lanterne!_" egging and encouraging those around them. + +Déroulède and Juliette felt the intoxication of the adventure. They were +drunk with the joy of their reunion, and seized with the wild, mad, +passionate desire for freedom and for life ... Life and love! + +So they pushed and jostled on in the mud, followed the crowd, sang and +yelled louder than any of them. Was not that very crowd the great +bulwark of their safety? + +As well have sought for the proverbial needle in the haystack, as for +two escaped prisoners in this mad, heaving throng. + +The large open space in front of the Temple Prison looked like one +great, seething, black mass. + +The darkness was almost thick here, the ground like a morass, with +inches of clayey mud, which stuck to everything, whilst the sparse +lanterns, hung to the prison walls and beneath the portico, threw +practically no light into the square. + +As the little band, composed of the three Englishmen, and of Déroulède, +holding Juliette by the hand, emerged into the open space, they heard a +strident cry, like that of a sea-mew thrice repeated, and a hoarse voice +shouting from out the darkness: + +"_Ma foi!_ I'll not believe that the prisoners are in the Temple now! It +is my belief, friends, citizens, that we have been fooled once more!" + +The voice, with its strange, unaccountable accent, which seemed to +belong to no province of France, dominated the almost deafening noise; +it penetrated through, even into the brandy-soddened minds of the +multitude, for the suggestion was received with renewed shouts of the +wildest wrath. + +Like one great, living, seething mass the crowd literally bore down upon +the huge and frowning prison. Pushing, jostling, yelling, the women +screaming, the men cursing, it seemed as if that awesome day--the 14th +of July--was to have its sanguinary counterpart to-night, as if the +Temple were destined to share the fate of the Bastille. + +Obedient to their leader's orders the three young Englishmen remained in +the thick of the crowd: together with Déroulède they contrived to form a +sturdy rampart round Juliette, effectually protecting her against rough +buffetings. + +On their right, towards the direction of Ménilmontant, the sea-mew's cry +at intervals gave the strength and courage. + +The foremost rank of the crowd had reached the portico of the building, +and, with howls and snatches of their gutter song, were loudly +clamouring for the guardian of the grim prison. + +No one appeared; the great gates with their massive bars and hinges +remained silent and defiant. + +The crowd was becoming dangerous: whispers of the victory of the +Bastille, five years ago, engendered thoughts of pillage and of arson. + +Then the strident voice was heard again: + +"_Pardi!_ the prisoners are not in the Temple! The dolts have allowed +them to escape, and now are afraid of the wrath of the people!" + +It was strange how easily the mob assimilated this new idea. Perhaps the +dark, frowning block of massive buildings had overawed them with its +peaceful strength, perhaps the dripping rain and oozing clay had damped +their desire for an immediate storming of the grim citadel; perhaps it +was merely the human characteristic of a wish for something new, +something unexpected. + +Be that as it may, the cry was certainly taken up with marvellous, +quick-change rapidity. + +"The prisoners have escaped! The prisoners have escaped!" + +Some were for proceeding with the storming of the Temple, but they were +in the minority. All along, the crowd had been more inclined for private +revenge than for martial deeds of valour; the Bastille had been taken by +daylight; the effort might not have been so successful on a pitch-black +night such as this, when one could not see one's hand before one's eyes, +and the drizzling rain went through to the marrow. + +"They've got through one of the barriers by now!" suggested the same +voice from out the darkness. + +"The barriers--the barriers!" came in sheeplike echo from the crowd. + +The little group of fugitives and their friends tightened their hold on +one another. + +They had understood at last. + +"It is for us to see that the crowd does what we want," the Scarlet +Pimpernel had said. + +He wanted it to take him and his friends out of Paris, and, by God! he +was like to succeed. + +Juliette's heart within her beat almost to choking; her strong little +hand gripped Déroulède's fingers with the wild strength of a mad +exultation. + +Next to the man to whom she had given her love and her very soul she +admired and looked up to the remarkable and noble adventurer, the +high-born and exquisite dandy, who with grime-covered face, and strong +limbs encased in filthy clothes, was playing the most glorious part ever +enacted upon the stage. + +"To the barriers--to the barriers!" + +Like a herd of wild horses, driven by the whip of the herdsmen, the mob +began to scatter in all directions. Not knowing what it wanted, not +knowing what it would find, half forgetting the very cause and object of +its wrath, it made one gigantic rush for the gates of the great city +through which the prisoners were supposed to have escaped. + +The three Englishmen and Déroulède, with Juliette well protected in +their midst, had not joined the general onrush as yet. The crowd in the +open place was still very thick, the outward-branching streets were very +narrow: through these the multitude, scampering, hurrying, scurrying, +like a human torrent let out of a whirlpool, rushed down headlong +towards the barriers. + +Up the Rue Turbigo to the Belleville gate, the Rue des Filles, and the +Rue du Chemin Vert, towards Popincourt, they ran, knocking each other +down, jostling the weaker ones on one side, trampling others underfoot. +They were all rough, coarse creatures, accustomed to these wild +bousculades, ready to pick themselves up, again after any number of +falls; whilst the mud was slimy and soft to tumble on, and those who did +the trampling had no shoes on their feet. + +They rushed out from the dark, open place, these creatures of the night, +into streets darker still. + +On they ran--on! on!--now in thick, heaving masses, anon in loose, +straggling groups--some north, some south, some east, some west. + +But it was from the east that came the seagull's cry. + +The little band ran boldly towards the east. Down the Rue de la +République they followed their leader's call. The crowd was very thick +here; the Barrière Ménilmontant was close by, and beyond it there was +the cemetery of Père Lachaise. It was the nearest gate to the Temple +Prison, and the mob wanted to be up and doing, not to spend too much +time running along the muddy streets and getting wet and cold, but to +repeat the glorious exploits of the 14th of July, and capture the +barriers of Paris by force of will rather than force of arms. + +In this rushing mob the four men, with Juliette in their midst, remained +quite unchallenged, mere units in an unruly crowd. + +In a quarter of an hour Ménilmontant was reached. + +The great gates of the city were well guarded by detachments of the +National Guard, each under command of an officer. Twenty strong at +most--what was that against such a throng? + +Who had ever dreamed of Paris being stormed from within? + +At every gate to the north and east of the city there was now a rabble +some four or five thousand strong, wanting it knew not what. Everyone +had forgotten what it was that caused him or her to rush on so blindly, +so madly, towards the nearest barrier. + +But everyone knew that he or she wanted to get through that barrier, to +attack the soldiery, to knock down the captain of the Guard. + +And with a wild cry every city gate was stormed. + +Like one huge wind-tossed wave, the populace on that memorable night of +Fructidor, broke against the cordon of soldiery, that vainly tried to +keep it back. Men and women, drunk with brandy and exultation, shouted +"_Quatorze Juillet!_" and amidst curses and threats demanded the opening +of the gates. + +The people of France _would_ have its will. + +Was it not the supreme lord and ruler of the land, the arbiter of the +Fate of this great, beautiful, and maddened country? + +The National Guard was powerless; the officers in command could offer +but feeble resistance. + +The desultory fire, which in the darkness and the pouring rain did very +little harm, had the effect of further infuriating the mob. + +The drizzle had turned to a deluge, a veritable heavy summer downpour, +with occasional distant claps of thunder and incessant sheet-lightning, +which ever and anon illumined with its weird, fantastic flash this +heaving throng, these begrimed faces, crowned with red caps of Liberty, +these witchlike female creatures with wet, straggly hair and gaunt, +menacing arms. + +Within half-an-hour the people of Paris was outside its own gates. + +Victory was complete. The Guard did not resist; the officers had +surrendered; the great and mighty rabble had had its way. + +Exultant, it swarmed around the fortifications and along the _terrains +vagues_ which it had conquered by its will. + +But the downpour was continuous, and with victory came satiety--satiety +coupled with wet skins, muddy feet, tired, wearied bodies, and throats +parched with continual shouting. + +At Ménilmontant, where the crowd had been thickest, the tempers highest, +and the yells most strident, there now stretched before this tired, +excited throng, the peaceful vastness of the cemetery of Père Lachaise. + +The great alleys of sombre monuments, the weird cedars with their +fantastic branches, like arms of a hundred ghosts, quelled and awed +these hooting masses of degraded humanity. + +The silent majesty of this city of the dead seemed to frown with +withering scorn on the passions of the sister city. + +Instinctively the rabble was cowed. The cemetery looked dark, dismal, +and deserted. The flashes of lightning seemed to reveal ghostlike +processions of the departed heroes of France, wandering silently amidst +the tombs. + +And the populace turned with a shudder away from this vast place of +eternal peace. + +From within the cemetery gates, there was suddenly heard the sound of a +sea-mew calling thrice to its mate. And five dark figures, wrapped in +cloaks, gradually detached themselves from the throng, and one by one +slipped into the grounds of Père Lachaise through that break in the +wall, which is quite close to the main entrance. + +Once more the sea-gull's cry. + +Those in the crowd who heard it, shivered beneath their dripping +clothes. They thought it was a soul in pain risen from one of the +graves, and some of the women, forgetting the last few years of +godlessness, hastily crossed themselves, and muttered an invocation to +the Virgin Mary. + +Within the gates all was silent and at peace. The sodden earth gave +forth no echo of the muffled footsteps, which slowly crept towards the +massive block of stone, which covers the graves of the immortal lovers +--Abélard and Heloïse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +Conclusion. + + +There is but little else to record. + +History has told us how, shamefaced, tired, dripping, the great, +all-powerful people of Paris quietly slunk back to their homes, even +before the first cock-crow in the villages beyond the gates, acclaimed +the pale streak of dawn. + +But long before that, even before the church bells of the great city had +tolled the midnight hour, Sir Percy Blakeney and his little band of +followers had reached the little tavern which stands close to the +farthest gate of Père Lachaise. + +Without a word, like six silent ghosts, they had traversed the vast +cemetery, and reached the quiet hostelry, where the sounds of the +seething revolution only came, attenuated by their passage through the +peaceful city of the dead. + +English gold had easily purchased silence and good will from the +half-starved keeper of this wayside inn. A huge travelling chaise +already stood in readiness, and four good Flanders horses had been +pawing the ground impatiently for the past half hour. From the window of +the chaise old Pétronelle's face, wet with anxious tears, was peering +anxiously. + +A cry of joy and surprise escaped Déroulède and Juliette, and both +turned, with a feeling akin to awe, towards the wonderful man who had +planned and carried through this bold adventure. + +"Nay, my friend," said Sir Percy, speaking more especially to Déroulède; +"if you only knew how simple it all was! Gold can do so many things, and +my only merit seems to be the possession of plenty of that commodity. +You told me yourself how you had provided for old Pétronelle. Under the +most solemn assurance that she would meet her young mistress here, I got +her to leave Paris. She came out most bravely this morning in one of the +market carts. She is so obviously a woman of the people, that no one +suspected her. As for the worthy couple who keep this wayside hostel, +they have been well paid, and money soon procures a chaise and horses. +My English friends and I, we have our own passports, and one for +Mademoiselle Juliette, who must travel as an English lady, with her old +nurse, Pétronelle. There are some decent clothes in readiness for us all +in the inn. A quarter of an hour in which to don them and we must on our +way. You can use your own passport, of course; your arrest has been so +very sudden that it has not yet been cancelled, and we have an eight +hours' start of our enemies. They'll wake up to-morrow morning, begad! +and find that you have slipped through their fingers." + +He spoke with easy carelessness, and that slow drawl of his, as if he +were talking airy nothings in a London drawing-room, instead of +recounting the most daring, most colossal piece of effrontery the +adventurous brain of man could conceive. + +Déroulède could say nothing. His own noble heart was too full of +gratitude towards his friend to express it all in a few words. + +And time, of course, was precious. + +Within the prescribed quarter of an hour the little band of heroes had +doffed their grimy, ragged clothes, and now appeared dressed as +respectable bourgeois of Paris _en route_ for the country. Sir Percy +Blakeney had donned the livery of a coachman of a well-to-do house, +whilst Lord Anthony Dewhurst wore that of an English lacquey. + +Five minutes later Déroulède had lifted Juliette into the travelling +chaise, and in spite of fatigue, of anxiety, and emotion, it was +immeasurable happiness to feel her arm encircling his shoulders in +perfect joy and trust. + +Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and Lord Hastings joined them inside the chaise; +Lord Anthony sat next to Sir Percy on the box. + +And whilst the crowd of Paris was still wondering why it had stormed the +gates of the city, the escaped prisoners were borne along the muddy +roads of France at breakneck speed northward to the coast. + +Sir Percy Blakeney held the reins himself. With his noble heart full of +joy, the gallant adventurer himself drove his friends to safety. + +They had an eight hours' start, and The League of The Scarlet Pimpernel +had done its work thoroughly: well provided with passports, and with +relays awaiting them at every station of fifty miles or so, the journey, +though wearisome was free from further adventure. + +At Le Havre the little party embarked on board Sir Percy Blakeney's +yacht the _Daydream,_ where they met Madame Déroulède and Anne Mie. + +The two ladies, acting under the instructions of Sir Percy, had as +originally arranged, pursued their journey northwards, to the populous +seaport town. + +Anne Mie's first meeting with Juliette was intensely pathetic. The poor +little cripple had spent the last few days in an agony of remorse, +whilst the heavy travelling chaise bore her farther and farther away +from Paris. + +She thought Juliette dead, and Paul a prey to despair, and her tender +soul ached when she remembered that it was she who had given the final +deadly stab to the heart of the man she loved. + +Hers was the nature born to abnegation: aye! and one destined to find +bliss therein. And when one glance in Paul Déroulède's face told her +that she was forgiven, her cup of joy at seeing him happy beside his +beloved, was unalloyed with any bitterness. + +<tb> + +It was in the beautiful, rosy dawn of one of the last days of that +memorable Fructidor, when Juliette and Paul Déroulède, standing on the +deck of the _Daydream,_ saw the shores of France gradually receding from +their view. + +Déroulède's arm was round his beloved, her golden hair, fanned by the +breeze, brushed lightly against his cheek. + +"Madonna!" he murmured. + +She turned her head to him. It was the first time that they were quite +alone, the first time that all thought of danger had become a mere +dream. + +What had the future in store for them, in that beautiful, strange land +to which the graceful yacht was swiftly bearing them? + +England, the land of freedom, would shelter their happiness and their +joy; and they looked out towards the North, where lay, still hidden in +the arms of the distant horizon, the white cliffs of Albion, whilst the +mist even now was wrapping in its obliterating embrace the shores of the +land where they had both suffered, where they had both learned to love. + +He took her in his arms. + +"My wife!" he whispered. + +The rosy light touched her golden hair; he raised her face to his, and +soul met soul in one long, passionate kiss. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of I Will Repay, by Baroness Emmuska Orczy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I WILL REPAY *** + +***** This file should be named 5090-8.txt or 5090-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/9/5090/ + +Produced by Walter Debeuf, Project Gutenberg volunteer. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: I Will Repay + +Author: Baroness Emmuska Orczy + +Posting Date: October 4, 2011 [EBook #5090] +Release Date: February, 2004 +[Last updated: July 20, 2014] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I WILL REPAY *** + + + + +Produced by Walter Debeuf, Project Gutenberg volunteer. + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h1>I Will Repay.<br /><br /> +<small>By Baroness Orczy.</small></h1> + + +<table border="3" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="center"> +<a href="#PROLOGUE"><b>PROLOGUE., </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXVI, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXVII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXVIII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXIX, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><b>CHAPTER XXX.</b></a></td></tr> +</table> + +<h3><a name="PROLOGUE" id="PROLOGUE"></a>PROLOGUE.</h3> + +<h4>I<br /><br /> +Paris: 1783.</h4> + + +<p>"Coward! Coward! Coward!"</p> + +<p>The words rang out, clear, strident, passionate, in a crescendo of +agonised humiliation.</p> + +<p>The boy, quivering with rage, had sprung to his feet, and, losing his +balance, he fell forward clutching at the table, whilst with a +convulsive movement of the lids, he tried in vain to suppress the +tears of shame which were blinding him.</p> + +<p>"Coward!" He tried to shout the insult so that all might hear, but +his parched throat refused him service, his trembling hand sought the +scattered cards upon the table, he collected them together, quickly, +nervously, fingering them with feverish energy, then he hurled them at +the man opposite, whilst with a final effort he still contrived to +mutter: "Coward!"</p> + +<p>The older men tried to interpose, but the young ones only laughed, +quite prepared for the adventure which must inevitably ensue, the only +possible ending to a quarrel such as this.</p> + +<p>Conciliation or arbitration was out of the question. Déroulède should +have known better than to speak disrespectfully of Adèle de Montchéri, +when the little Vicomte de Marny's infatuation for the notorious +beauty had been the talk of Paris and Versailles these many months +past.</p> + +<p>Adèle was very lovely and a veritable tower of greed and egotism. The +Marnys were rich and the little Vicomte very young, and just now the +brightly-plumaged hawk was busy plucking the latest pigeon, newly +arrived from its ancestral cote.</p> + +<p>The boy was still in the initial stage of his infatuation. To him +Adèle was a paragon of all the virtues, and he would have done battle +on her behalf against the entire aristocracy of France, in a vain +endeavour to justify his own exalted opinion of one of the most +dissolute women of the epoch. He was a first-rate swordsman too, and +his friends had already learned that it was best to avoid all +allusions to Adèle's beauty and weaknesses.</p> + +<p>But Déroulède was a noted blunderer. He was little versed in the +manners and tones of that high society in which, somehow, he still +seemed an intruder. But for his great wealth, no doubt, he never +would have been admitted within the intimate circle of aristocratic +France. His ancestry was somewhat doubtful and his coat-of-arms +unadorned with quarterings.</p> + +<p>But little was known of his family or the origin of its wealth; it was +only known that his father had suddenly become the late King's dearest +friend, and commonly surmised that Déroulède gold had on more than one +occasion filled the emptied coffers of the First Gentleman of France.</p> + +<p>Déroulède had not sought the present quarrel. He had merely blundered +in that clumsy way of his, which was no doubt a part of the +inheritance bequeathed to him by his bourgeois ancestry.</p> + +<p>He knew nothing of the little Vicomte's private affairs, still less of +his relationship with Adèle, but he knew enough of the world and +enough of Paris to be acquainted with the lady's reputation. He hated +at all times to speak of women. He was not what in those days would be +termed a ladies' man, and was even somewhat unpopular with the sex. +But in this instance the conversation had drifted in that direction, +and when Adèle's name was mentioned, every one became silent, save the +little Vicomte, who waxed enthusiastic.</p> + +<p>A shrug of the shoulders on Déroulède's part had aroused the boy's +ire, then a few casual words, and, without further warning, the insult +had been hurled and the cards thrown in the older man's face.</p> + +<p>Déroulède did not move from his seat. He sat erect and placid, one +knee crossed over the other, his serious, rather swarthy face perhaps +a shade paler than usual: otherwise it seemed as if the insult had +never reached his ears, or the cards struck his cheek.</p> + +<p>He had perceived his blunder, just twenty seconds too late. Now he +was sorry for the boy and angered with himself, but it was too late to +draw back. To avoid a conflict he would at this moment have sacrificed +half his fortune, but not one particle of his dignity.</p> + +<p>He knew and respected the old Duc de Marny, a feeble old man now, +almost a dotard whose hitherto spotless <i>blason</i> , the young Vicomte, +his son, was doing his best to besmirch.</p> + +<p>When the boy fell forward, blind and drunk with rage, Déroulède leant +towards him automatically, quite kindly, and helped him to his feet. +He would have asked the lad's pardon for his own thoughtlessness, had +that been possible: but the stilted code of so-called honour forbade +so logical a proceeding. It would have done no good, and could but +imperil his own reputation without averting the traditional sequel.</p> + +<p>The panelled walls of the celebrated gaming saloon had often witnessed +scenes such as this. All those present acted by routine. The etiquette +of duelling prescribed certain formalities, and these were strictly +but rapidly adhered to.</p> + +<p>The young Vicomte was quickly surrounded by a close circle of friends. +His great name, his wealth, his father's influence, had opened for him +every door in Versailles and Paris. At this moment he might have had +an army of seconds to support him in the coming conflict.</p> + +<p>Déroulède for a while was left alone near the card table, where the +unsnuffed candles began smouldering in their sockets. He had risen to +his feet, somewhat bewildered at the rapid turn of events. His dark, +restless eyes wandered for a moment round the room, as if in quick +search for a friend.</p> + +<p>But where the Vicomte was at home by right, Déroulède had only been +admitted by reason of his wealth. His acquaintances and sycophants +were many, but his friends very few.</p> + +<p>For the first time this fact was brought home to him. Every one in +the room must have known and realised that he had not wilfully sought +this quarrel, that throughout he had borne himself as any gentleman +would, yet now, when the issue was so close at hand, no one came +forward to stand by him.</p> + +<p>"For form's sake, monsieur, will you choose your seconds?"</p> + +<p>It was the young Marquis de Villefranche who spoke, a little +haughtily, with a certain ironical condescension towards the rich +parvenu, who was about to have the honour of crossing swords with one +of the noblest gentlemen in France.</p> + +<p>"I pray you, Monsieur le Marquis," rejoined Déroulède coldly, "to make +the choice for me. You see, I have few friends in Paris."</p> + +<p>The Marquis bowed, and gracefully flourished his lace handkerchief. +He was accustomed to being appealed to in all matters pertaining to +etiquette, to the toilet, to the latest cut in coats, and the +procedure in duels. Good-natured, foppish, and idle, he felt quite +happy and in his element thus to be made chief organiser of the tragic +farce, about to be enacted on the parquet floor of the gaming saloon.</p> + +<p>He looked about the room for a while, scrutinising the faces of those +around him. The gilded youth was crowding round De Marny; a few older +men stood in a group at the farther end of the room: to these the +Marquis turned, and addressing one of them, an elderly man with a +military bearing and a shabby brown coat:</p> + +<p>"Mon Colonel," he said, with another flourishing bow; "I am deputed by +M. Déroulède to provide him with seconds for this affair of honour, +may I call upon you to ..."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly," replied the Colonel. "I am not intimately +acquainted with M. Déroulède, but since you stand sponsor, M. le +Marquis ..."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" rejoined the Marquis, lightly, "a mere matter of form, you know. +M. Déroulède belongs to the entourage of Her Majesty. He is a man of +honour. But I am not his sponsor. Marny is my friend, and if you +prefer not to ..."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I am entirely at M. Déroulède's service," said the Colonel, +who had thrown a quick, scrutinising glance at the isolated figure +near the card table, "if he will accept my services ..."</p> + +<p>"He will be very glad to accept, my dear Colonel," whispered the +Marquis with an ironical twist of his aristocratic lips. "He has no +friends in our set, and if you and De Quettare will honour him, I +think he should be grateful."</p> + +<p>M. de Quettare, adjutant to M. le Colonel, was ready to follow in the +footsteps of his chief, and the two men, after the prescribed +salutations to M. le Marquis de Villefranche, went across to speak to +Déroulède.</p> + +<p>"If you will accept our services, monsieur," began the Colonel +abruptly, "mine, and my adjutant's, M. de Quettare, we place ourselves +entirely at your disposal."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, messieurs," rejoined Déroulède. "The whole thing is a +farce, and that young man is a fool; but I have been in the wrong +and ..."</p> + +<p>"You would wish to apologise?" queried the Colonel icily.</p> + +<p>The worthy soldier had heard something of Déroulède's reputed +bourgeois ancestry. This suggestion of an apology was no doubt in +accordance with the customs of the middle-classes, but the Colonel +literally gasped at the unworthiness of the proceeding. An apology? +Bah! Disgusting! cowardly! beneath the dignity of any gentleman, +however wrong he might be. How could two soldiers of His Majesty's +army identify themselves with such doings?</p> + +<p>But Déroulède seemed unconscious of the enormity of his suggestion.</p> + +<p>"If I could avoid a conflict," he said, "I would tell the Vicomte +that I had no knowledge of his admiration for the lady we were +discussing and ..."</p> + +<p>"Are you so very much afraid of getting a sword scratch, monsieur?" +interrupted the Colonel impatiently, whilst M. de Quettare elevated a +pair of aristocratic eyebrows in bewilderment at such an extraordinary +display of bourgeois cowardice.</p> + +<p>"You mean, Monsieur le Colonel?"—queried Déroulède.</p> + +<p>"That you must either fight the Vicomte de Marny to-night, or clear out +of Paris to-morrow. Your position in our set would become untenable," +retorted the Colonel, not unkindly, for in spite of Déroulède's +extraordinary attitude, there was nothing in his bearing or his +appearance that suggested cowardice or fear.</p> + +<p>"I bow to your superior knowledge of your friends, M. le Colonel," +responded Déroulède, as he silently drew his sword from its sheath.</p> + +<p>The centre of the saloon was quickly cleared. The seconds measured +the length of the swords and then stood behind the antagonists, +slightly in advance of the groups of spectators, who stood massed all +round the room.</p> + +<p>They represented the flower of what France had of the best and noblest +in name, in lineage, in chivalry, in that year of grace 1783. The +storm-cloud which a few years hence was destined to break over their +heads, sweeping them from their palaces to the prison and the +guillotine, was only gathering very slowly in the dim horizon of +squalid, starving Paris: for the next half-dozen years they would +still dance and gamble, fight and flirt, surround a tottering throne, +and hoodwink a weak monarch. The Fates' avenging sword still rested in +its sheath; the relentless, ceaseless wheel still bore them up in +their whirl of pleasure; the downward movement had only just begun: +the cry of the oppressed children of France had not yet been heard +above the din of dance music and lovers' serenades.</p> + +<p>The young Duc de Châteaudun was there, he who, nine years later, went +to the guillotine on that cold September morning, his hair dressed in +the latest fashion, the finest Mechlin lace around his wrists, playing +a final game of piquet with his younger brother, as the tumbril bore +them along through the hooting, yelling crowd of the half-naked +starvelings of Paris.</p> + +<p>There was the Vicomte de Mirepoix, who, a few years later, standing on +the platform of the guillotine, laid a bet with M. de Miranges that +his own blood would flow bluer than that of any other head cut off +that day in France. Citizen Samson heard the bet made, and when De +Mirepoix's head fell into the basket, the headsman lifted it up for M. +de Miranges to see. The latter laughed.</p> + +<p>"Mirepoix was always a braggart," he said lightly, as he laid his head +upon the block.</p> + +<p>"Who'll take my bet that my blood turns out to be bluer than his?"</p> + +<p>But of all these comedies, these tragico-farces of later years, none +who were present on that night, when the Vicomte de Marny fought Paul +Déroulède, had as yet any presentiment.</p> + +<p>They watched the two men fighting, with the same casual interest, at +first, which they would have bestowed on the dancing of a new movement +in the minuet.</p> + +<p>De Marny came of a race that had wielded the sword of many centuries, +but he was hot, excited, not a little addled with wine and rage. +Déroulède was lucky; he would come out of the affair with a slight +scratch.</p> + +<p>A good swordsman too, that wealthy parvenu. It was interesting to +watch his sword-play: very quiet at first, no feint or parry, scarcely +a riposte, only <i>en garde,</i> always <i>en garde</i> very carefully, +steadily, ready for his antagonist at every turn and in every +circumstance.</p> + +<p>Gradually the circle round the combatants narrowed. A few discreet +exclamations of admiration greeted Déroulède's most successful parry. +De Marny was getting more and more excited, the older man more and +more sober and reserved.</p> + +<p>A thoughtless lunge placed the little Vicomte at his opponent's mercy. +The next instant he was disarmed, and the seconds were pressing +forward to end the conflict.</p> + +<p>Honour was satisfied: the parvenu and the scion of the ancient race +had crossed swords over the reputation of one of the most dissolute +women in France. Déroulède's moderation was a lesson to all the +hot-headed young bloods who toyed with their lives, their honour, +their reputation as lightly as they did with their lace-edged +handkerchiefs and gold snuff-boxes.</p> + +<p>Already Déroulède had drawn back. With the gentle tact peculiar to +kindly people, he avoided looking at his disarmed antagonist. But +something in the older man's attitude seemed to further nettle the +over-stimulated sensibility of the young Vicomte.</p> + +<p>"This is no child's play, monsieur," he said excitedly. "I demand +full satisfaction."</p> + +<p>"And are you not satisfied?" queried Déroulède. "You have borne +yourself bravely, you have fought in honour of your liege lady. I, on +the other hand ..."</p> + +<p>"You," shouted the boy hoarsely, "you shall publicly apologise to a +noble and virtuous woman whom you have outraged—now—at—once—on +your knees ..."</p> + +<p>"You are mad, Vicomte," rejoined Déroulède coldly. "I am willing to +ask your forgiveness for my blunder ..."</p> + +<p>"An apology—in public—on your knees ..."</p> + +<p>The boy had become more and more excited. He had suffered humiliation +after humiliation. He was a mere lad, spoilt, adulated, pampered from +his boyhood: the wine had got into his head, the intoxication of rage +and hatred blinded his saner judgment.</p> + +<p>"Coward!" he shouted again and again.</p> + +<p>His seconds tried to interpose, but he waved them feverishly aside. +He would listen to no one. He saw no one save the man who had insulted +Adèle, and who was heaping further insults upon her, by refusing this +public acknowledgment of her virtues.</p> + +<p>De Marny hated Déroulède at this moment with the most deadly hatred +the heart of man can conceive. The older man's calm, his chivalry, his +consideration only enhanced the boy's anger and shame.</p> + +<p>The hubbub had become general. Everyone seemed carried away with this +strange fever of enmity, which was seething in the Vicomte's veins. +Most of the young men crowded round De Marny, doing their best to +pacify him. The Marquis de Villefranche declared that the matter was +getting quite outside the rules.</p> + +<p>No one took much notice of Déroulède. In the remote corners of the +saloon a few elderly dandies were laying bets as to the ultimate issue +of the quarrel.</p> + +<p>Déroulède, however, was beginning to lose his temper. He had no +friends in that room, and therefore there was no sympathetic observer +there, to note the gradual darkening of his eyes, like the gathering +of a cloud heavy with the coming storm.</p> + +<p>"I pray you, messieurs, let us cease the argument," he said at last, +in a loud, impatient voice. "M. le Vicomte de Marny desires a further +lesson, and, by God! he shall have it. En garde, M. le Vicomte!"</p> + +<p>The crowd quickly drew back. The seconds once more assumed the +bearing and imperturbable expression which their important function +demanded. The hubbub ceased as the swords began to clash.</p> + +<p>Everyone felt that farce was turning to tragedy.</p> + +<p>And yet it was obvious from the first that Déroulède merely meant +once more to disarm his antagonist, to give him one more lesson, a +little more severe perhaps than the last. He was such a brilliant +swordsman, and De Marny was so excited, that the advantage was with +him from the very first.</p> + +<p>How it all happened, nobody afterwards could say. There is no doubt +that the little Vicomte's sword-play had become more and more wild: +that he uncovered himself in the most reckless way, whilst lunging +wildly at his opponent's breast, until at last, in one of these mad, +unguarded moments, he seemed literally to throw himself upon +Déroulède's weapon.</p> + +<p>The latter tried with lightning-swift motion of the wrist to avoid the +fatal issue, but it was too late, and without a sigh or groan, scarce +a tremor, the Vicomte de Marny fell.</p> + +<p>The sword dropped out of his hand, and it was Déroulède himself who +caught the boy in his arms.</p> + +<p>It had all occurred so quickly and suddenly that no one had realised +it all, until it was over, and the lad was lying prone on the ground, +his elegant blue satin coat stained with red, and his antagonist +bending over him.</p> + +<p>There was nothing more to be done. Etiquette demanded that Déroulède +should withdraw. He was not allowed to do anything for the boy whom he +had so unwillingly sent to his death.</p> + +<p>As before, no one took much notice of him. Silence, the awesome +silence caused by the presence of the great Master, fell upon all +those around. Only in the far corner a shrill voice was heard to say:</p> + +<p>"I hold you at five hundred louis, Marquis. The parvenu is a good +swordsman."</p> + +<p>The groups parted as Déroulède walked out of the room, followed by the +Colonel and M. de Quettare, who stood by him to the last. Both were +old and proved soldiers, both had chivalry and courage in them, with +which to do tribute to the brave man whom they had seconded.</p> + +<p>At the door of the establishment, they met the leech who had been +summoned some little time ago to hold himself in readiness for any +eventuality.</p> + +<p>The great eventuality had occurred: it was beyond the leech's +learning. In the brilliantly lighted saloon above, the only son of the +Duc de Marny was breathing his last, whilst Déroulède, wrapping his +mantle closely round him, strode out into the dark street, all alone.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>The head of the house of Marny was at this time barely seventy years +of age. But he had lived every hour, every minute of his life, from +the day when the Grand Monarque gave him his first appointment as +gentleman page in waiting when he was a mere lad, barely twelve years +of age, to the moment—some ten years ago now—when Nature's +relentless hand struck him down in the midst of his pleasures, +withered him in a flash as she does a sturdy old oak, and nailed him— +a cripple, almost a dotard—to the invalid chair which he would only +quit for his last resting place.</p> + +<p>Juliette was then a mere slip of a girl, an old man's child, the +spoilt darling of his last happy years. She had retained some of the +melancholy which had characterised her mother, the gentle lady who had +endured so much so patiently, and who had bequeathed this final tender +burden—her baby girl—to the brilliant, handsome husband whom she +had so deeply loved, and so often forgiven.</p> + +<p>When the Duc de Marny entered the final awesome stage of his gilded +career, that deathlike life which he dragged on for ten years wearily +to the grave, Juliette became his only joy, his one gleam of happiness +in the midst of torturing memories.</p> + +<p>In her deep, tender eyes he would see mirrored the present, the future +for her, and would forget his past, with all its gaieties, its mad, +merry years, that meant nothing now but bitter regrets, and endless +rosary of the might-have-beens.</p> + +<p>And then there was the boy. The little Vicomte, the future Duc de +Marny, who would in <i>his</i> life and with <i>his</i> youth recreate the glory +of the family, and make France once more ring with the echo of brave +deeds and gallant adventures, which had made the name of Marny so +glorious in camp and court.</p> + +<p>The Vicomte was not his father's love, but he was his father's pride, +and from the depths of his huge, cushioned arm-chair, the old man +would listen with delight to stories from Versailles and Paris, the +young Queen and the fascinating Lamballe, the latest play and the +newest star in the theatrical firmament. His feeble, tottering mind +would then take him back, along the paths of memory, to his own youth +and his own triumphs, and in the joy and pride in his son, he would +forget himself for the sake of the boy.</p> + +<p>When they brought the Vicomte home that night, Juliette was the first +to wake. She heard the noise outside the great gates, the coach slowly +drawing up, the ring for the doorkeeper, and the sound of Matthieu's +mutterings, who never liked to be called up in the middle of the night +to let anyone through the gates.</p> + +<p>Somehow a presentiment of evil at once struck the young girl: the +footsteps sounded so heavy and muffled along the flagged courtyard, +and up the great oak staircase. It seemed as if they were carrying +something heavy, something inert or dead.</p> + +<p>She jumped out of bed and hastily wrapped a cloak round her thin +girlish shoulders, and slipped her feet into a pair of heelless shoes, +then she opened her bedroom door and looked out upon the landing.</p> + +<p>Two men, whom she did not know, were walking upstairs abreast, two +more were carrying a heavy burden, and Matthieu was behind moaning and +crying bitterly.</p> + +<p>Juliette did not move. She stood in the doorway rigid as a statue. +The little cortège went past her. No one saw her, for the landings in +the Hotel de Marny are very wide, and Matthieu's lantern only threw a +dim, flickering light upon the floor.</p> + +<p>The men stopped outside the Vicomte's room. Matthieu opened it, and +then the five men disappeared within, with their heavy burden.</p> + +<p>A moment later old Pétronelle, who had been Juliette's nurse, and was +now her devoted slave, came to her, all bathed in tears.</p> + +<p>She had just heard the news, and she could scarcely speak, but she +folded the young girl, her dear pet lamb, in her arms, and rocking +herself to and fro she sobbed and eased her aching, motherly heart.</p> + +<p>But Juliette did not cry. It was all so sudden, so awful. She, at +fourteen years of age, had never dreamed of death; and now there was +her brother, her Philippe, in whom she had so much joy, so much pride +—he was dead—and her father must be told ...</p> + +<p>The awfulness of this task seemed to Juliette like unto the last +Judgment Day; a thing so terrible, so appalling, so impossible, that +it would take a host of angels to proclaim its inevitableness.</p> + +<p>The old cripple, with one foot in the grave, whose whole feeble mind, +whose pride, whose final flicker of hope was concentrated in his boy, +must be told that the lad had been brought home dead.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell him, Pétronelle?" she asked repeatedly, during the +brief intervals when the violence of the old nurse's grief subsided +somewhat.</p> + +<p>"No—no—darling, I cannot—I cannot—" moaned Pétronelle, amidst a +renewed shower of sobs.</p> + +<p>Juliette's entire soul—a child's soul it was—rose in revolt at +thought of what was before her. She felt angered with God for having +put such a thing upon her. What right had He to demand a girl of her +years to endure so much mental agony?</p> + +<p>To lose her brother, and to witness her father's grief! She +couldn't! she couldn't! she couldn't! God was evil and unjust!</p> + +<p>A distant tinkle of a bell made all her nerves suddenly quiver. Her +father was awake then? He had heard the noise, and was ringing his +bell to ask for an explanation of the disturbance.</p> + +<p>With one quick movement Juliette jerked herself free from the nurse's +arms, and before Pétronelle could prevent her, she had run out of the +room, straight across the dark landing to a large panelled door +opposite.</p> + +<p>The old Duc de Marny was sitting on the edge of his bed, with his +long, thin legs dangling helplessly to the ground.</p> + +<p>Crippled as he was, he had struggled to this upright position, he was +making frantic, miserable efforts to raise himself still further. He, +too, had heard the dull thud of feet, the shuffling gait of men when +carrying a heavy burden.</p> + +<p>His mind flew back half-a-century, to the days when he had witnessed +scenes wherein he was then merely a half-interested spectator. He knew +the cortège composed of valets and friends, with the leech walking +beside that precious burden, which anon would be deposited on the bed +and left to the tender care of a mourning family.</p> + +<p>Who knows what pictures were conjured up before that enfeebled vision? +But he guessed. And when Juliette dashed into his room and stood +before him, pale, trembling, a world of misery in her great eyes, she +knew that he guessed and that she need not tell him. God had already +done that for her.</p> + +<p>Pierre, the old Duc's devoted valet, dressed him as quickly as he +could. M. le Duc insisted on having his <i>habit de cérémonie,</i> the rich +suit of black velvet with the priceless lace and diamond buttons, +which he had worn when they laid le Roi Soleil to his eternal rest.</p> + +<p>He put on his orders and buckled on his sword. The gorgeous clothes, +which had suited him so well in the prime of his manhood, hung +somewhat loosely on his attenuated frame, but he looked a grand and +imposing figure, with his white hair tied behind with a great black +bow, and the fine jabot of beautiful point d'Angleterre falling in a +soft cascade below his chin.</p> + +<p>Then holding himself as upright as he could, he sat in his invalid +chair, and four flunkeys in full livery carried him to the deathbed of +his son.</p> + +<p>All the house was astir by now. Torches burned in great sockets in +the vast hall and along the massive oak stairway, and hundreds of +candles flickered ghostlike in the vast apartments of the princely +mansion.</p> + +<p>The numerous servants were arrayed on the landing, all dressed in the +rich livery of the ducal house.</p> + +<p>The death of an heir of the Marnys is an event that history makes a +note of.</p> + +<p>The old Duc's chair was placed close to the bed, where lay the dead +body of the young Vicomte. He made no movement, nor did he utter a +word or sigh. Some of those who were present at the time declared that +his mind had completely given way, and that he neither felt nor +understood the death of his son.</p> + +<p>The Marquis de Villefranche, who had followed his friend to the last, +took a final leave of the sorrowing house.</p> + +<p>Juliette scarcely noticed him. Her eyes were fixed on her father. +She would not look at her brother. A childlike fear had seized her, +there, suddenly, between these two silent figures: the living and the +dead.</p> + +<p>But just as the Marquis was leaving the room, the old man spoke for +the first time.</p> + +<p>"Marquis," he said very quietly, "you forget—you have not yet told +me who killed my son."</p> + +<p>"It was in a fair fight, M. de Duc," replied the young Marquis, awed +in spite of all his frivolity, his light-heartedness, by this strange, +almost mysterious tragedy.</p> + +<p>"Who killed my son, M. le Marquis?" repeated the old man mechanically. +"I have the right to know," he added with sudden, weird energy.</p> + +<p>"It was M. Paul Déroulède, M. le Duc," replied the Marquis. "I +repeat, it was in fair fight."</p> + +<p>The old Duc sighed as if in satisfaction. Then with a courteous +gesture of farewell reminiscent of the <i>grand siècle</i> he added:</p> + +<p>"All thanks from me and mine to you, Marquis, would seem but a +mockery. Your devotion to my son is beyond human thanks. I'll not +detain you now. Farewell."</p> + +<p>Escorted by two lacqueys, the Marquis passed out of the room.</p> + +<p>"Dismiss all the servants, Juliette; I have something to say," said +the old Duc, and the young girl, silent, obedient, did as her father +bade her.</p> + +<p>Father and sister were alone with their dead. As soon as the last +hushed footsteps of the retreating servants died away in the distance, +the Duc de Marny seemed to throw away the lethargy which had enveloped +him until now. With a quick, feverish gesture he seized his daughter's +wrist, and murmured excitedly:</p> + +<p>"His name. You heard his name, Juliette?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father," replied the child.</p> + +<p>"Paul Déroulède! Paul Déroulède! You'll not forget it?"</p> + +<p>"Never, father!"</p> + +<p>"He killed your brother! You understand that? Killed my only son, +the hope of my house, the last descendant of the most glorious race +that has ever added lustre to the history of France."</p> + +<p>"In fair fight, father!" protested the child.</p> + +<p>"'Tis not fair for a man to kill a boy," retorted the old man, with +furious energy.</p> + +<p>"Déroulède is thirty: my boy was scarce out of his teens: may the +vengeance of God fall upon the murderer!"</p> + +<p>Juliette, awed, terrified, was gazing at her father with great, +wondering eyes. He seemed unlike himself. His face wore a curious +expression of ecstasy and of hatred, also of hope and exultation, +whenever he looked steadily at her.</p> + +<p>That the final glimmer of a tottering reason was fast leaving the +poor, aching head she was too young to realise. Madness was a word +that had only a vague meaning for her. Though she did not understand +her father at the present moment, though she was half afraid of him, +she would have rejected with scorn and horror any suggestion that he +was mad.</p> + +<p>Therefore when he took her hand and, drawing her nearer to the bed and +to himself, placed it upon her dead brother's breast, she recoiled at +the touch of the inanimate body, so unlike anything she had ever +touched before, but she obeyed her father without any question, and +listened to his words as to those of a sage.</p> + +<p>"Juliette, you are now fourteen, and able to understand what I am +going to ask of you. If I were not chained to this miserable chair, if +I were not a hopeless, abject cripple, I would not depute anyone, not +even you, my only child, to do that, which God demands that one of us +should do."</p> + +<p>He paused a moment, then continued earnestly:</p> + +<p>"Remember, Juliette, that you are of the house of Marny, that you are +a Catholic, and that God hears you now. For you shall swear an oath +before Him and me, an oath from which only death can relieve you. Will +you swear, my child?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish it, father."</p> + +<p>"You have been to confession lately, Juliette?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father; also to holy communion, yesterday," replied the child. +"It was the Fête-Dieu, you know."</p> + +<p>"Then you are in a state of grace, my child?"</p> + +<p>"I was yesterday morning, father," replied the young girl naïvely, +"but I have committed some little sins since then."</p> + +<p>"Then make your confession to God in your heart now. You must be in a +state of grace when you speak the oath."</p> + +<p>The child closed her eyes, and as the old man watched her, he could +see the lips framing the words of her spiritual confession.</p> + +<p>Juliette made the sign of the cross, then opened her eyes and looked +at her father.</p> + +<p>"I am ready, father," she said; "I hope God has forgiven me the little +sins of yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Will you swear, my child?"</p> + +<p>"What, father?"</p> + +<p>"That you will avenge your brother's death on his murderer?"</p> + +<p>"But, father ..."</p> + +<p>"Swear it, my child!"</p> + +<p>"How can I fulfil that oath, father?—I don't understand ..."</p> + +<p>"God will guide you, my child. When you are older you will +understand."</p> + +<p>For a moment Juliette still hesitated. She was just on that +borderland between childhood and womanhood when all the sensibilities, +the nervous system, the emotions, are strung to their highest pitch.</p> + +<p>Throughout her short life she had worshipped her father with a +whole-hearted, passionate devotion, which had completely blinded her +to his weakening faculties and the feebleness of his mind.</p> + +<p>She was also in that initial stage of enthusiastic piety which +overwhelms every girl of temperament, if she be brought up in the +Roman Catholic religion, when she is first initiated into the +mysteries of the Sacraments.</p> + +<p>Juliette had been to confession and communion. She had been confirmed +by Monseigneur, the Archbishop. Her ardent nature had responded to the +full to the sensuous and ecstatic expressions of the ancient faith.</p> + +<p>And somehow her father's wish, her brother's death, all seemed mingled +in her brain with that religion, for which in her juvenile enthusiasm +she would willingly have laid down her life.</p> + +<p>She thought of all the saints, whose lives she had been reading. Her +young heart quivered at the thought of <i>their</i> sacrifices, their +martyrdoms, their sense of duty.</p> + +<p>An exaltation, morbid perhaps, superstitious and overwhelming, took +possession of her mind; also, perhaps, far back in the innermost +recesses of her heart, a pride in her own importance, her mission in +life, her individuality: for she was a girl after all, a mere child, +about to become a woman.</p> + +<p>But the old Duc was waxing impatient.</p> + +<p>"Surely you do not hesitate, Juliette, with your dead brother's body +clamouring mutely for revenge? You, the only Marny left now!—for +from this day I too shall be as dead."</p> + +<p>"No, father," said the young girl in an awed whisper, "I do not +hesitate. I will swear, just as you bid me."</p> + +<p>"Repeat the words after me, my child."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"Before the face of Almighty God, who sees and hears me ..."</p> + +<p>"Before the face of Almighty God, who sees and hears me," repeated +Juliette firmly.</p> + +<p>"I swear that I will seek out Paul Déroulède."</p> + +<p>"I swear that I will seek out Paul Déroulède."</p> + +<p>"And in any manner which God may dictate to me encompass his death, +his ruin or dishonour, in revenge for my brother's death."</p> + +<p>"And in any manner which God may dictate to me encompass his death, +his ruin or dishonour, in revenge for my brother's death," said +Juliette solemnly.</p> + +<p>"May my brother's soul remain in torment until the final Judgment Day +if I should break my oath, but may it rest in eternal peace the day on +which his death is fitly avenged."</p> + +<p>"May my brother's soul remain in torment until the final Judgment Day +if I should break my oath, but may it rest in eternal peace the day on +which his death is fitly avenged."</p> + +<p>The child fell upon her knees. The oath was spoken, the old man was +satisfied.</p> + +<p>He called for his valet, and allowed himself quietly to be put to bed.</p> + +<p>One brief hour had transformed a child into a woman. A dangerous +transformation when the brain is overburdened with emotions, when the +nerves are overstrung and the heart full to breaking.</p> + +<p>For the moment, however, the childlike nature reasserted itself for +the last time, for Juliette, sobbing, had fled out of the room, to the +privacy of her own apartment, and thrown herself passionately into the +arms of kind old Pétronelle.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> +Paris: 1793<br /><br /> +The outrage.</h3> + + +<p>It would have been very difficult to say why Citizen Déroulède was +quite so popular as he was. Still more difficult would it have been to +state the reason why he remained immune from the prosecutions, which +were being conducted at the rate of several scores a day, now against +the moderate Gironde, anon against the fanatic Mountain, until the +whole of France was transformed into one gigantic prison, that daily +fed the guillotine.</p> + +<p>But Déroulède remained unscathed. Even Merlin's law of the suspect +had so far failed to touch him. And when, last July, the murder of +Marat brought an entire holocaust of victims to the guillotine—from +Adam Lux, who would have put up a statue in honour of Charlotte +Corday, with the inscription: "Greater than Brutus", to Charlier, who +would have had her publicly tortured and burned at the stake for her +crime—Déroulède alone said nothing, and was allowed to remain +silent.</p> + +<p>The most seething time of that seething revolution. No one knew in +the morning if his head would still be on his own shoulders in the +evening, or if it would be held up by Citizen Samson the headsman, for +the sansculottes of Paris to see.</p> + +<p>Yet Déroulède was allowed to go his own way. Marat once said of him: +"Il n'est pas dangereux." The phrase had been taken up. Within the +precincts of the National Convention, Marat was still looked upon as +the great protagonist of Liberty, a martyr to his own convictions +carried to the extreme, to squalor and dirt, to the downward levelling +of man to what is the lowest type in humanity. And his sayings were +still treasured up: even the Girondins did not dare to attack his +memory. Dead Marat was more powerful than his living presentment had +been.</p> + +<p>And he had said that Déroulède was not dangerous. Not dangerous to +Republicanism, to liberty, to that downward, levelling process, the +tearing down of old traditions, and the annihilation of past +pretensions.</p> + +<p>Déroulède had once been very rich. He had had sufficient prudence to +give away in good time that which, undoubtedly, would have been taken +away from him later on.</p> + +<p>But when he gave willingly, at a time when France needed it most, and +before she had learned how to help herself to what she wanted.</p> + +<p>And somehow, in this instance, France had not forgotten: an invisible +fortress seemed to surround Citizen Déroulède and keep his enemies at +bay. They were few, but they existed. The National Convention trusted +him. "He was not dangerous" to them. The people looked upon him as one +of themselves, who gave whilst he had something to give. Who can gauge +that most elusive of all things: <i>Popularity?</i> </p> + +<p>He lived a quiet life, and had never yielded to the omni-prevalent +temptation of writing pamphlets, but lived alone with his mother and +Anne Mie, the little orphaned cousin whom old Madame Déroulède had +taken care of, ever since the child could toddle.</p> + +<p>Everyone knew his house in the Rue Ecole de Médecine, not far from the +one wherein Marat lived and died, the only solid, stone house in the +midst of a row of hovels, evil-smelling and squalid.</p> + +<p>The street was narrow then, as it is now, and whilst Paris was cutting +off the heads of her children for the sake of Liberty and Fraternity, +she had no time to bother about cleanliness and sanitation.</p> + +<p>Rue Ecole de Médecine did little credit to the school after which it +was named, and it was a most unattractive crowd that usually thronged +its uneven, muddy pavements.</p> + +<p>A neat gown, a clean kerchief, were quite an unusual sight down this +way, for Anne Mie seldom went out, and old Madame Déroulède hardly +ever left her room. A good deal of brandy was being drunk at the two +drinking bars, one at each end of the long, narrow street, and by five +o'clock in the afternoon it was undoubtedly best for women to remain +indoors.</p> + +<p>The crowd of dishevelled elderly Amazons who stood gossiping at the +street corner could hardly be called women now. A ragged petticoat, a +greasy red kerchief round the head, a tattered, stained shift—to +this pass of squalor and shame had Liberty brought the daughters of +France.</p> + +<p>And they jeered at any passer-by less filthy, less degraded than +themselves.</p> + +<p>"Ah! voyons l'aristo!" they shouted every time a man in decent +clothes, a woman with tidy cap and apron, passed swiftly down the +street.</p> + +<p>And the afternoons were very lively. There was always plenty to see: +first and foremost, the long procession of tumbrils, winding its way +from the prisons to the Place de la Révolution. The forty-four +thousand sections of the Committee of Public Safety sent their quota, +each in their turn, to the guillotine.</p> + +<p>At one time these tumbrils contained royal ladies and gentlemen, +<i>ci-devant</i> dukes and princesses, aristocrats from every county in +France, but now this stock was becoming exhausted. The wretched Queen +Marie Antoinette still lingered in the Temple with her son and +daughter. Madame Elisabeth was still allowed to say her prayers in +peace, but <i>ci-devant</i> dukes and counts were getting scarce: those who +had not perished at the hand of Citizen Samson were plying some trade +in Germany or England.</p> + +<p>There were aristocratic joiners, innkeepers, and hairdressers. The +proudest names in France were hidden beneath trade signs in London and +Hamburg. A good number owed their lives to that mysterious Scarlet +Pimpernel, that unknown Englishman who had snatched scores of victims +from the clutches of Tinville the Prosecutor, and sent M. Chauvelin, +baffled, back to France.</p> + +<p>Aristocrats were getting scarce, so it was now the turn of deputies of +the National Convention, of men of letters, men of science or of art, +men who had sent others to the guillotine a twelvemonth ago, and men +who had been loudest in defence of anarchy and its Reign of Terror.</p> + +<p>They had revolutionised the Calendar: the Citizen-Deputies, and every +good citizen of France, called this 19th day of August 1793 the 2nd +Fructidor of the year I. of the New Era.</p> + +<p>At six o'clock on that afternoon a young girl suddenly turned the +angle of the Rue Ecole de Médecine, and after looking quickly to the +right and left she began deliberately walking along the narrow street.</p> + +<p>It was crowded just then. Groups of excited women stood jabbering +before every doorway. It was the home-coming hour after the usual +spectacle on the Place de la Révolution. The men had paused at the +various drinking booths, crowding the women out. It would be the turn +of these Amazons next, at the brandy bars; for the moment they were +left to gossip, and to jeer at the passer-by.</p> + +<p>At first the young girl did not seem to heed them. She walked quickly +along, looking defiantly before her, carrying her head erect, and +stepping carefully from cobblestone to cobblestone, avoiding the mud, +which could have dirtied her dainty shoes.</p> + +<p>The harridans passed the time of day to her, and the time of day meant +some obscene remark unfit for women's ears. The young girl wore a +simple grey dress, with fine lawn kerchief neatly folded across her +bosom, a large hat with flowing ribbons sat above the fairest face +that ever gladdened men's eyes to see.</p> + +<p>Fairer still it would have been, but for the look of determination +which made it seem hard and old for the girl's years.</p> + +<p>She wore the tricolour scarf round her waist, else she had been more +seriously molested ere now. But the Republican colours were her +safeguard: whilst she walked quietly along, no one could harm her.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly a curious impulse seemed to seize her. It was just +outside the large stone house belonging to Citizen-Deputy Déroulède. +She had so far taken no notice of the groups of women which she had +come across. When they obstructed the footway, she had calmly stepped +out into the middle of the road.</p> + +<p>It was wise and prudent, for she could close her ears to obscene +language and need pay no heed to insult.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she threw up her head defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Will you please let me pass?" she said loudly, as a dishevelled +Amazon stood before her with arms akimbo, glancing sarcastically at +the lace petticoat, which just peeped beneath the young girl's simple +grey frock.</p> + +<p>"Let her pass? Let her pass? Ho! ho! ho!" laughed the old woman, +turning to the nearest group of idlers, and apostrophising them with a +loud oath. "Did <i>you</i> know, citizeness, that this street had been +specially made for aristos to pass along?"</p> + +<p>"I am in a hurry, will you let me pass at once?" commanded the young +girl, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground.</p> + +<p>There was the whole width of the street on her right, plenty of room +for her to walk along. It seemed positive madness to provoke a quarrel +singlehanded against this noisy group of excited females, just home +from the ghastly spectacle around the guillotine.</p> + +<p>And yet she seemed to do it wilfully, as if coming to the end of her +patience, all her proud, aristocratic blood in revolt against this +evil-smelling crowd which surrounded her.</p> + +<p>Half-tipsy men and noisome, naked urchins seemed to have sprung from +everywhere.</p> + +<p>"Oho, quelle aristo!" they shouted with ironical astonishment, gazing +at the young girl's face, fingering her gown, thrusting begrimed, +hate-distorted faces close to her own.</p> + +<p>Instinctively she recoiled and backed towards the house immediately on +her left. It was adorned with a porch made of stout oak beams, with a +tiled roof; an iron lantern descended from this, and there was a stone +parapet below, and a few steps, at right angles from the pavement, led +up to the massive door.</p> + +<p>On these steps the young girl had taken refuge. Proud, defiant, she +confronted the howling mob, which she had so wilfully provoked.</p> + +<p>"Of a truth, Citizeness Margot, that grey dress would become you +well!" suggested a young man, whose red cap hung in tatters over an +evil and dissolute-looking face.</p> + +<p>"And all that fine lace would make a splendid jabot round the aristo's +neck when Citizen Samson holds up her head for us to see," added +another, as with mock elegance he stooped and with two very grimy +fingers slightly raised the young girl's grey frock, displaying the +lace-edged petticoat beneath.</p> + +<p>A volley of oaths and loud, ironical laughter greeted this sally.</p> + +<p>"'Tis mighty fine lace to be thus hidden away," commented an elderly +harridan. "Now, would you believe it, my fine madam, but my legs are +bare underneath my kirtle?"</p> + +<p>"And dirty, too, I'll lay a wager," laughed another. "Soap is dear in +Paris just now."</p> + +<p>"The lace on the aristo's kerchief would pay the baker's bill of a +whole family for a month!" shouted an excited voice.</p> + +<p>Heat and brandy further addled the brains of this group of French +citizens; hatred gleamed out of every eye. Outrage was imminent. The +young girl seemed to know it, but she remained defiant and +self-possessed, gradually stepping back and back up the steps, closely +followed by her assailants.</p> + +<p>"To the Jew with the gewgaw, then!" shouted a thin, haggard female +viciously, as she suddenly clutched at the young girl's kerchief, and +with a mocking, triumphant laugh tore it from her bosom.</p> + +<p>This outrage seemed to be the signal for the breaking down of the +final barriers which ordinary decency should have raised. The language +and vituperation became such as no chronicler could record.</p> + +<p>The girl's dainty white neck, her clear skin, the refined contour of +shoulders and bust, seemed to have aroused the deadliest lust of hate +in these wretched creatures, rendered bestial by famine and squalor.</p> + +<p>It seemed almost as if one would vie with the other in seeking for +words which would most offend these small aristocratic ears.</p> + +<p>The young girl was now crouching against the doorway, her hands held +up to her ears to shut out the awful sounds. She did not seem +frightened, only appalled at the terrible volcano which she had +provoked.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a miserable harridan struck her straight in the face, with +hard, grimy fist, and a long shout of exultation greeted this +monstrous deed.</p> + +<p>Then only did the girl seem to lose her self-control.</p> + +<p>"A moi," she shouted loudly, whilst hammering with both hands against +the massive doorway. "A moi! Murder! Murder! Citoyen Déroulède, à +moi!"</p> + +<p>But her terror was greeted with renewed glee by her assailants. They +were now roused to the highest point of frenzy: the crowd of brutes +would in the next moment have torn the helpless girl from her place of +refuge and dragged her into the mire, an outraged prey, for the +satisfaction of an ungovernable hate.</p> + +<p>But just as half-a-dozen pairs of talon-like hands clutched +frantically at her skirts, the door behind her was quickly opened. She +felt her arm seized firmly, and herself dragged swiftly within the +shelter of the threshold.</p> + +<p>Her senses, overwrought by the terrible adventure which she had just +gone through, were threatening to reel; she heard the massive door +close, shutting out the yells of baffled rage, the ironical laughter, +the obscene words, which sounded in her ears like the shrieks of +Dante's damned.</p> + +<p>She could not see her rescuer, for the hall into which he had hastily +dragged her was only dimly lighted. But a peremptory voice said +quickly:</p> + +<p>"Up the stairs, the room straight in front of you, my mother is there. +Go quickly."</p> + +<p>She had fallen on her knees, cowering against the heavy oak beam which +supported the ceiling, and was straining her eyes to catch sight of +the man, to whom at this moment she perhaps owed more than her life: +but he was standing against the doorway, with his hand on the latch.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Prevent their breaking into my house in order to drag you out of it," +he replied quietly; "so, I pray you, do as I bid you."</p> + +<p>Mechanically she obeyed him, drew herself to her feet, and, turning +towards the stairs, began slowly to mount the shallow steps. Her knees +were shaking under her, her whole body was trembling with horror at +the awesome crisis she had just traversed.</p> + +<p>She dared not look back at her rescuer. Her head was bent, and her +lips were murmuring half-audible words as she went.</p> + +<p>Outside the hooting and yelling was becoming louder and louder. +Enraged fists were hammering violently against the stout oak door.</p> + +<p>At the top of the stairs, moved by an irresistible impulse, she turned +and looked into the hall.</p> + +<p>She saw his figure dimly outlined in the gloom, one hand on the latch, +his head thrown back to watch her movements.</p> + +<p>A door stood ajar immediately in front of her. She pushed it open and +went within.</p> + +<p>At that moment he too opened the door below. The shrieks of the +howling mob once more resounded close to her ears. It seemed as if +they had surrounded him. She wondered what was happening, and +marvelled how he dared to face that awful crowd alone.</p> + +<p>The room into which she had entered was gay and cheerful-looking with +its dainty chintz hangings and graceful, elegant pieces of furniture. +The young girl looked up, as a kindly voice said to her, from out the +depths of a capacious armchair:</p> + +<p>"Come in, come in, my dear, and close the door behind you! Did those +wretches attack you? Never mind. Paul will speak to them. Come here, +my dear, and sit down; there's no cause now for fear."</p> + +<p>Without a word the young girl came forward. She seemed now to be +walking in a dream, the chintz hangings to be swaying ghostlike around +her, the yells and shrieks below to come from the very bowels of the +earth.</p> + +<p>The old lady continued to prattle on. She had taken the girl's hand +in hers, and was gently forcing her down on to a low stool beside her +armchair. She was talking about Paul, and said something about Anne +Mie, and then about the National Convention, and those beasts and +savages, but mostly about Paul.</p> + +<p>The noise outside had subsided. The girl felt strangely sick and +tired. Her head seemed to be whirling round, the furniture to be +dancing round her; the old lady's face looked at her through a swaying +veil, and then—and then ...</p> + +<p>Tired Nature was having her way at last; she folded the quivering +young body in her motherly arms, and wrapped the aching senses beneath +her merciful mantle of unconsciousness.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> +Citizen-Deputy.</h3> + + +<p>When, presently, the young girl awoke, with a delicious feeling of +rest and well-being, she had plenty of leisure to think.</p> + +<p>So, then, this was his house! She was actually a guest, a rescued +protégé, beneath the roof of Citoyen Déroulède.</p> + +<p>He had dragged her from the clutches of the howling mob which she had +provoked; his mother had made her welcome, a sweet-faced, young girl +scarce out of her teens, sad-eyed and slightly deformed, had waited +upon her and made her happy and comfortable.</p> + +<p>Juliette de Marny was in the house of the man, whom she had sworn +before her God and before her father to pursue with hatred and +revenge.</p> + +<p>Ten years had gone by since then.</p> + +<p>Lying upon the sweet-scented bed which the hospitality of the +Déroulèdes had provided for her, she seemed to see passing before her +the spectres of these past ten years—the first four, after her +brother's death, until the old Duc de Marny's body slowly followed his +soul to its grave.</p> + +<p>After that last glimmer of life beside the deathbed of his son, the +old Duc had practically ceased to be. A mute, shrunken figure, he +merely existed; his mind vanished, his memory gone, a wreck whom +Nature fortunately remembered at last, and finally took away from the +invalid chair which had been his world.</p> + +<p>Then came those few years at the Convent of the Ursulines. Juliette +had hoped that she had a vocation; her whole soul yearned for a +secluded, a religious, life, for great barriers of solemn vows and +days spent in prayer and contemplation, to interpose between herself +and the memory of that awful night when, obedient to her father's +will, she had made the solemn oath to avenge her brother's death.</p> + +<p>She was only eighteen when she first entered the convent, directly +after her father's death, when she felt very lonely—both morally and +mentally lonely—and followed by the obsession of that oath.</p> + +<p>She never spoke of it to anyone except to her confessor, and he, a +simple-minded man of great learning and a total lack of knowledge of +the world, was completely at a loss how to advise.</p> + +<p>The Archbishop was consulted. He could grant a dispensation, and +release her of that most solemn vow.</p> + +<p>When first this idea was suggested to her, Juliette was exultant. Her +entire nature, which in itself was wholesome, light-hearted, the very +reverse of morbid, rebelled against this unnatural task placed upon +her young shoulders. It was only religion—the strange, warped +religion of that extraordinary age—which kept her to it, which +forbade her breaking lightly that most unnatural oath.</p> + +<p>The Archbishop was a man of many duties, many engagements. He agreed +to give this strange "cas de conscience" his most earnest attention. +He would make no promises. But Mademoiselle de Marny was rich: a +munificent donation to the poor of Paris, or to some cause dear to the +Holy Father himself, might perhaps be more acceptable to God than the +fulfilment of a compulsory vow.</p> + +<p>Juliette, within the convent walls, was waiting patiently for the +Archbishop's decision at the very moment, when the greatest upheaval +the world has ever known was beginning to shake the very foundations +of France.</p> + +<p>The Archbishop had other things now to think about than isolated cases +of conscience. He forgot all about Juliette, probably. He was busy +consoling a monarch for the loss of his throne, and preparing himself +and his royal patron for the scaffold.</p> + +<p>The Convent of the Ursulines was scattered during the Terror. +Everyone remembers the Thermidor massacres, and the thirty-four nuns, +all daughters of ancient families of France, who went so cheerfully to +the scaffold.</p> + +<p>Juliette was one of those who escaped condemnation. How or why, she +herself could not have told. She was very young, and still a +postulant; she was allowed to live in retirement with Pétronelle, her +old nurse, who had remained faithful through all these years.</p> + +<p>Then the Archbishop was prosecuted and imprisoned. Juliette made +frantic efforts to see him, but all in vain. When he died, she looked +upon her spiritual guide's death as a direct warning from God, that +nothing could relieve her of her oath.</p> + +<p>She had watched the turmoils of the Revolution through the attic +window of her tiny apartment in Paris. Waited upon by faithful +Pétronelle, she had been forced to live on the savings of that worthy +old soul, as all her property, all the Marny estates, the <i>dot</i> she +took with her to the convent—everything, in fact—had been seized +by the Revolutionary Government, self appointed to level fortunes, as +well as individuals.</p> + +<p>From that attic window she had seen beautiful Paris writhing under the +pitiless lash of the demon of terror which it had provoked; she had +heard the rumble of the tumbrils, dragging day after day their load of +victims to the insatiable maker of this Revolution of Fraternity—the +Guillotine.</p> + +<p>She had seen the gay, light-hearted people of this Star-City turned to +howling beasts of prey, its women changed to sexless vultures, with +murderous talons implanted in everything that is noble, high or +beautiful.</p> + +<p>She was not twenty when the feeble, vacillating monarch and his +imperious consort were dragged back—a pair of humiliated prisoners— +to the capital from which they had tried to flee.</p> + +<p>Two years later, she had heard the cries of an entire people exulting +over a regicide. Then the murder of Marat, by a young girl like +herself, the pale-faced, large-eyed Charlotte, who had committed a +crime for the sake of a conviction. "Greater than Brutus!" some had +called her. Greater than Joan of Arc, for it was to a mission of evil +and of sin that she was called from the depths of her Breton village, +and not to one of glory and triumph.</p> + +<p>"Greater than Brutus!"</p> + +<p>Juliette followed the trial of Charlotte Corday with all the +passionate ardour of her exalted temperament.</p> + +<p>Just think what an effect it must have had upon the mind of this young +girl, who for nine years—the best of her life—had also lived with +the idea of a sublime mission pervading her very soul.</p> + +<p>She watched Charlotte Corday at her trial. Conquering her natural +repulsion for such scenes, and the crowds which usually watched them, +she had forced her way into the foremost rank of the narrow gallery +which overlooked the Hall of the Revolutionary Tribunal.</p> + +<p>She heard the indictment, heard Tinville's speech and the calling of +the witnesses.</p> + +<p>"All this is unnecessary. I killed Marat!"</p> + +<p>Juliette heard the fresh young voice ringing out clearly above the +murmur of voices, the howls of execration; she saw the beautiful young +face, clear, calm, impassive.</p> + +<p>"I killed Marat!"</p> + +<p>And there in the special space allotted to the Citizen-Deputies, +sitting among those who represented the party of the Moderate Gironde, +was Paul Déroulède, the man whom she had sworn to pursue with a +vengeance as great, as complete, as that which guided Charlotte +Corday's hand.</p> + +<p>She watched him during the trial, and wondered if he had any +presentiment of the hatred which dogged him, like unto the one which +had dogged Marat.</p> + +<p>He was very dark, almost swarthy a son of the South, with brown hair, +free from powder, thrown back and revealing the brow of a student +rather than that of a legislator. He watched Charlotte Corday +earnestly, and Juliette who watched him saw the look of measureless +pity, which softened the otherwise hard look of his close-set eyes.</p> + +<p>He made an impassioned speech for the defence: a speech which has +become historic. It would have cost any other man his head.</p> + +<p>Juliette marvelled at his courage; to defend Charlotte Corday was +equivalent to acquiescing in the death of Marat: Marat, the friend of +the people; Marat, whom his funeral orators had compared to the Great, +the Sacred Leveller of Mankind!</p> + +<p>But Déroulède's speech was not a defence, it was an appeal. The most +eloquent man of that eloquent age, his words seemed to find that +hidden bit of sentiment which still lurked in the hearts of these +strange protagonists of Hate.</p> + +<p>Everyone round Juliette listened as he spoke: "It is Citoyen +Déroulède!" whispered the bloodthirsty Amazons, who sat knitting in +the gallery.</p> + +<p>But there was no further comment. A huge, magnificently-equipped +hospital for sick children had been thrown open in Paris that very +morning, a gift to the nation from Citoyen Déroulède. Surely he was +privileged to talk a little, if it pleased him. His hospital would +cover quite a good many defalcations.</p> + +<p>Even the rabid Mountain, Danton, Merlin, Santerre, shrugged their +shoulders. "It is Déroulède, let him talk an he list. Murdered Marat +said of him that he was not dangerous."</p> + +<p>Juliette heard it all. The knitters round her were talking loudly. +Even Charlotte was almost forgotten whilst Déroulède talked. He had a +fine voice, of strong calibre, which echoed powerfully through the +hall.</p> + +<p>He was rather short, but broad-shouldered and well knit, with an +expressive hand, which looked slender and delicate below the fine lace +ruffle.</p> + +<p>Charlotte Corday was condemned. All Déroulède's eloquence could not +save her.</p> + +<p>Juliette left the court in a state of mad exultation. She was very +young: the scenes she had witnessed in the past two years could not +help but excite the imagination of a young girl, left entirely to her +own intellectual and moral resources.</p> + +<p>What scenes! Great God!</p> + +<p>And now to wait for an opportunity! Charlotte Corday, the +half-educated little provincial should not put to shame Mademoiselle de +Marny, the daughter of a hundred dukes, of those who had made France +before she took to unmaking herself.</p> + +<p>But she could not formulate any definite plans. Pétronelle, poor old +soul, her only confidante, was not of the stuff that heroines are made +of. Juliette felt impelled by duty, and duty at best is not so prompt +a counsellor as love or hate.</p> + +<p>Her adventure outside Déroulède's house had not been premeditated. +Impulse and coincidence had worked their will with her.</p> + +<p>She had been in the habit, daily, for the past month, of wandering +down the Rue Ecole de Médecine, ostensibly to gaze at Marat's +dwelling, as crowds of idlers were wont to do, but really in order to +look at Déroulède's house. Once or twice she saw him coming or going +from home. Once she caught sight of the inner hall, and of a young +girl in a dark kirtle and snow-white kerchief bidding him good-bye at +his door. Another time she caught sight of him at the corner of the +street, helping that same young girl over the muddy pavement. He had +just met her, and she was carrying a basket of provisions: he took it +from her and carried it to the house.</p> + +<p>Chivalrous—eh?—and innately so, evidently, for the girl was slightly +deformed: hardly a hunchback, but weak and unattractive-looking, with +melancholy eyes, and a pale, pinched face.</p> + +<p>It was the thought of that little act of simple chivalry, witnessed +the day before, which caused Juliette to provoke the scene which, but +for Déroulède's timely interference, might have ended so fatally. But +she reckoned on that interference: the whole thing had occurred to her +suddenly, and she had carried it through.</p> + +<p>Had not her father said to her that when the time came, God would show +her a means to the end?</p> + +<p>And now she was inside the house of the man who had murdered her +brother and sent her sorrowing father, a poor, senseless maniac, +tottering to the grave.</p> + +<p>Would God's finger point again, and show her what to do next, how best +to accomplish what she had sworn to do?</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> +Hospitality.</h3> + + +<p>"Is there anything more I can do for you now, mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p>The gentle, timid voice roused Juliette from the contemplation of the +past.</p> + +<p>She smiled at Anne Mie, and held her hand out towards her.</p> + +<p>"You have all been so kind," she said, "I want to get up now and thank +you all."</p> + +<p>"Don't move unless you feel quite well."</p> + +<p>"I am quite well now. Those horrid people frightened me so, that is +why I fainted."</p> + +<p>"They would have half-killed you, if ..."</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me where I am?" asked Juliette.</p> + +<p>"In the house of M. Paul Déroulède—I should have said of +Citizen-Deputy Déroulède. He rescued you from the mob, and pacified +them. He has such a beautiful voice that he can make anyone listen to +him, and ..."</p> + +<p>"And you are fond of him, mademoiselle?" added Juliette, suddenly +feeling a mist of tears rising to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am fond of him," rejoined the other girl simply, whilst a +look of the most tender-hearted devotion seemed to beautify her pale +face. "He and Madame Déroulède have brought me up; I never knew my +parents. They have cared for me, and he has taught me all I know."</p> + +<p>"What do they call you, mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Anne Mie."</p> + +<p>"And mine, Juliette—Juliette Marny," she added after a slight +hesitation. "I have no parents either. My old nurse, Pétronelle, has +brought me up, and—But tell me more about M. Déroulède—I owe him +so much, I'd like to know him better."</p> + +<p>"Will you not let me arrange your hair?" said Anne Mie as if purposely +evading a direct reply. "M. Déroulède is in the salon with madame. You +can see him then."</p> + +<p>Juliette asked no more questions, but allowed Anne Mie to tidy her +hair for her, to lend her a fresh kerchief and generally to efface all +traces of her terrible adventure. She felt puzzled and tearful. Anne +Mie's gentleness seemed somehow to jar on her spirits. She could not +understand the girl's position in the Déroulède household. Was she a +relative, or a superior servant? In these troublous times she might +easily have been both.</p> + +<p>In any case she was a childhood's companion of the Citizen-Deputy— +whether on an equal or a humbler footing, Juliette would have given +much to ascertain.</p> + +<p>With the marvellous instinct peculiar to women of temperament, she had +already divined Anne Mie's love for Déroulède. The poor young +cripple's very soul seemed to quiver magnetically at the bare mention +of his name, her whole face became transfigured: Juliette even thought +her beautiful then.</p> + +<p>She looked at herself critically in the glass, and adjusted a curl, +which looked its best when it was rebellious. She scrutinised her own +face carefully; why? she could not tell: another of those subtle +feminine instincts perhaps.</p> + +<p>The becoming simplicity of the prevailing mode suited her to +perfection. The waist line, rather high but clearly defined—a +precursor of the later more accentuated fashion—gave grace to her +long slender limbs, and emphasised the lissomeness of her figure. The +kerchief, edged with fine lace, and neatly folded across her bosom, +softened the contour of her girlish bust and shoulders.</p> + +<p>And her hair was a veritable glory round her dainty, piquant face. +Soft, fair, and curly, it emerged in a golden halo from beneath the +prettiest little lace cap imaginable.</p> + +<p>She turned and faced Anne Mie, ready to follow her out of the room, +and the young crippled girl sighed as she smoothed down the folds of +her own apron, and gave a final touch to the completion of Juliette's +attire.</p> + +<p>The time before the evening meal slipped by like a dream-hour for +Juliette.</p> + +<p>She had lived so much alone, had led such an introspective life, that +she had hardly realised and understood all that was going on around +her. At the time when the inner vitality of France first asserted +itself and then swept away all that hindered its mad progress, she was +tied to the invalid chair of her half-demented father; then, after +that, the sheltering walls of the Ursuline Convent had hidden from her +mental vision the true meaning of the great conflict, between the Old +Era and the New.</p> + +<p>Déroulède was neither a pedant nor yet a revolutionary: his theories +were Utopian and he had an extraordinary overpowering sympathy for his +fellow-men.</p> + +<p>After the first casual greetings with Juliette, he had continued a +discussion with his mother, which the young girl's entrance had +interrupted.</p> + +<p>He seemed to take but little notice of her, although at times his +dark, keen eyes would seek hers, as if challenging her for a reply.</p> + +<p>He was talking of the mob of Paris, whom he evidently understood so +well. Incidents such as the one which Juliette had provoked, had led +to rape and theft, often to murder, before now: but outside +Citizen-Deputy Déroulède's house everything was quiet, half-an-hour +after Juliette's escape from that howling, brutish crowd.</p> + +<p>He had merely spoken to them, for about twenty minutes, and they had +gone away quite quietly, without even touching one hair of his head. +He seemed to love them: to know how to separate the little good that +was in them, from that hard crust of evil, which misery had put around +their hearts.</p> + +<p>Once he addressed Juliette somewhat abruptly: "Pardon me, +mademoiselle, but for your own sake we must guard you a prisoner here +awhile. No one would harm you under this roof, but it would not be +safe for you to cross the neighbouring streets to-night."</p> + +<p>"But I must go, monsieur. Indeed, indeed I must!" she said earnestly. +"I am deeply grateful to you, but I could not leave Pétronelle."</p> + +<p>"Who is Pétronelle?"</p> + +<p>"My dear old nurse, monsieur. She has never left me. Think how +anxious and miserable she must be, at my prolonged absence."</p> + +<p>"Where does she live?"</p> + +<p>"At No. 15 Rue Taitbout, but ..."</p> + +<p>"Will you allow me to take her a message?—telling her that you are +safe and under my roof, where it is obviously more prudent that you +should remain at present."</p> + +<p>"If you think it best, monsieur," she replied.</p> + +<p>Inwardly she was trembling with excitement. God had not only brought +her to this house, but willed that she should stay in it.</p> + +<p>"In whose name shall I take the message, mademoiselle?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"My name is Juliette Marny."</p> + +<p>She watched him keenly as she said it, but there was not the slightest +sign in his expressive face, to show that he had recognised the name.</p> + +<p>Ten years is a long time, and every one had lived through so much +during those years! A wave of intense wrath swept through Juliette's +soul, as she realised that he had forgotten. The name meant nothing to +him! It did not recall to him the fact that his hand was stained with +blood. During ten years she had suffered, she had fought with herself, +fought for him as it were, against the Fate which she was destined to +mete out to him, whilst he had forgotten, or at least had ceased to +think.</p> + +<p>He bowed to her and went out of the room.</p> + +<p>The wave of wrath subsided, and she was left alone with Madame +Déroulède: presently Anne Mie came in.</p> + +<p>The three women chatted together, waiting for the return of the master +of the house. Juliette felt well and, in spite of herself, almost +happy. She had lived so long in the miserable, little attic alone with +Pétronelle that she enjoyed the well-being of this refined home. It +was not so grand or gorgeous of course as her father's princely palace +opposite the Louvre, a wreck now, since it was annexed by the +Committee of National Defence, for the housing of soldiery. But the +Déroulèdes' home was essentially a refined one. The delicate china on +the tall chimney-piece, the few bits of Buhl and Vernis Martin about +the room, the vision through the open doorway of the supper-table +spread with a fine white cloth, and sparkling with silver, all spoke +of fastidious tastes, of habits of luxury and elegance, which the +spirit of Equality and Anarchy had not succeeded in eradicating.</p> + +<p>When Déroulède came back, he brought an atmosphere of breezy +cheerfulness with him.</p> + +<p>The street was quiet now, and when walking past the hospital—his own +gift to the Nation—he had been loudly cheered. One or two ironical +voices had asked him what he had done with the aristo and her lace +furbelows, but it remained at that and Mademoiselle Marny need have no +fear.</p> + +<p>He had brought Pétronelle along with him: his careless, lavish +hospitality would have suggested the housing of Juliette's entire +domestic establishment, had she possessed one.</p> + +<p>As it was, the worthy old soul's deluge of happy tears had melted his +kindly heart. He offered her and her young mistress shelter, until the +small cloud should have rolled by.</p> + +<p>After that he suggested a journey to England. Emigration now was the +only real safety, and Mademoiselle Marny had unpleasantly drawn on +herself the attention of the Paris rabble. No doubt, within the next +few days her name would figure among the "suspect." She would be +safest out of the country, and could not do better than place herself +under the guidance of that English enthusiast, who had helped so many +persecuted Frenchmen to escape from the terrors of the Revolution: the +man who was such a thorn in the flesh of the Committee of Public +Safety, and who went by the nickname of The Scarlet Pimpernel.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> +The faithful house-dog.</h3> + + +<p>After supper they talked of Charlotte Corday.</p> + +<p>Juliette clung to the vision of that heroine, and liked to talk of +her. She appeared as a justification of her own actions, which somehow +seemed to require justification.</p> + +<p>She loved to hear Paul Déroulède talk; liked to provoke his enthusiasm +and to see his stern, dark face light up with the inward fire of the +enthusiast.</p> + +<p>She had openly avowed herself as the daughter of the Duc de Marny. +When she actually named her father, and her brother killed in duel, +she saw Déroulède looking long and searchingly at her. Evidently he +wondered if she knew everything: but she returned his gaze fearlessly +and frankly, and he apparently was satisfied.</p> + +<p>Madame Déroulède seemed to know nothing of the circumstances of that +duel. Déroulède tried to draw Juliette out, to make her speak of her +brother. She replied to his questions quite openly, but there was +nothing in what she said, suggestive of the fact that she knew who +killed her brother.</p> + +<p>She wanted him to know who she was. If he feared an enemy in her, +there was yet time enough for him to close his doors against her.</p> + +<p>But less than a minute later, he had renewed his warmest offers of +hospitality.</p> + +<p>"Until we can arrange for your journey to England," he added with a +short sigh, as if reluctant to part from her.</p> + +<p>To Juliette his attitude seemed one of complete indifference for the +wrong he had done to her and to her father: feeling that she was an +avenging spirit, with flaming sword in hand, pursuing her brother's +murderer like a relentless Nemesis, she would have preferred to see +him cowed before her, even afraid of her, though she was only a young +and delicate girl.</p> + +<p>She did not understand that in the simplicity of his heart, he only +wished to make amends. The quarrel with the young Vicomte de Marny had +been forced upon him, the fight had been honourable and fair, and on +his side fought with every desire to spare the young man. He had +merely been the instrument of Fate, but he felt happy that Fate once +more used him as her tool, this time to save the sister.</p> + +<p>Whilst Déroulède and Juliette talked together Anne Mie cleared the +supper-table, then came and sat on a low stool at madame's feet. She +took no part in the conversation, but every now and then Juliette felt +the girl's melancholy eyes fixed almost reproachfully upon her.</p> + +<p>When Juliette had retired with Pétronelle, Déroulède took Anne Mie's +hand in his.</p> + +<p>"You will be kind to my guest, Anne Mie, won't you? She seems very +lonely, and has gone through a great deal."</p> + +<p>"Not more than I have," murmured the young girl involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"You are not happy, Anne Mie? I thought ..."</p> + +<p>"Is a wretched, deformed creature ever happy?" she said with sudden +vehemence, as tears of mortification rushed to her eyes, in spite of +herself.</p> + +<p>"I did not think that you were wretched," he replied with some +sadness, "and neither in my eyes, nor in my mother's, are you in any +way deformed."</p> + +<p>Her mood changed at once. She clung to him, pressing his hand between +her own.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me! I—I don't know what's the matter with me to-night," she +said with a nervous little laugh. "Let me see, you asked me to be kind +to Mademoiselle Marny, did you not?"</p> + +<p>He nodded with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll be kind to her. Isn't every one kind to one who is +young and beautiful, and has great, appealing eyes, and soft, curly +hair? Ah me! how easy is the path in life for some people! What do you +want me to do, Paul? Wait on her? Be her little maid? Soothe her +nerves or what? I'll do it all, though in her eyes I shall remain both +wretched and deformed, a creature to pity, the harmless, necessary +house-dog ..."</p> + +<p>She paused a moment: said "Good-night" to him, and turned to go, +candle in hand, looking pathetic and fragile, with that ugly contour +of shoulder, which Déroulède assured her he could not see.</p> + +<p>The candle flickered in the draught, illumining the thin, pinched +face, the large melancholy eyes of the faithful house-dog.</p> + +<p>"Who can watch and bite!" she said half-audibly as she slipped out of +the room. "For I do not trust you, my fine madam, and there was +something about that comedy this afternoon, which somehow, I don't +quite understand."</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><br /> +A day in the woods.</h3> + + +<p>But whilst men and women set to work to make the towns of France +hideous with their shrieks and their hootings, their mock-trials and +bloody guillotines, they could not quite prevent Nature from working +her sweet will with the country.</p> + +<p>June, July, and August had received new names—they were now called +Messidor, Thermidor, and Fructidor, but under these new names they +continued to pour forth upon the earth the same old fruits, the same +flowers, the same grass in the meadows and leaves upon the trees.</p> + +<p>Messidor brought its quota of wild roses in the hedgerows, just as +archaic June had done. Thermidor covered the barren cornfields with +its flaming mantle of scarlet poppies, and Fructidor, though now +called August, still tipped the wild sorrel with dots of crimson, and +laid the first wash of tender colour on the pale cheeks of the +ripening peaches.</p> + +<p>And Juliette—young, girlish, feminine and inconsequent—had sighed +for country and sunshine, had longed for a ramble in the woods, the +music of the birds, the sight of the meadows sugared with marguerites.</p> + +<p>She had left the house early: accompanied by Pétronelle, she had been +rowed along the river as far as Suresnes. They had brought some bread +and fresh butter, a little wine and fruit in a basket, and from here +she meant to wander homewards through the woods.</p> + +<p>It was all so peaceful, so remote: even the noise of shrieking, +howling Paris did not reach the leafy thickets of Suresnes.</p> + +<p>It almost seemed as if this little old-world village had been +forgotten by the destroyers of France. It had never been a royal +residence, the woods had never been preserved for royal sport: there +was no vengeance to be wreaked upon its peaceful glades and sleepy, +fragrant meadows.</p> + +<p>Juliette spent a happy day; she loved the flowers, the trees, the +birds, and Pétronelle was silent and sympathetic. As the afternoon +wore on, and it was time to go home, Juliette turned townwards with a +sigh.</p> + +<p>You all know that road through the woods, which lies to the north-west +of Paris: so leafy, so secluded. No large, hundred-year-old trees, no +fine oaks or antique elms, but numberless delicate stems of hazel-nut +and young ash, covered with honeysuckle at this time of year, +sweet-smelling and so peaceful after that awful turmoil of the town.</p> + +<p>Obedient to Madame Déroulède's suggestion, Juliette had tied a +tricolour scarf round her waist, and a Phrygian cap of crimson cloth, +with the inevitable rosette on one side, adorned her curly head.</p> + +<p>She had gathered a huge bouquet of poppies, marguerites and blue lupin +—Nature's tribute to the national colours—and as she wandered +through the sylvan glades she looked like some quaint dweller of the +woods—a sprite, mayhap—with old mother Pétronelle trotting behind +her, like an attendant witch.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she paused, for in the near distance she had perceived the +sound of footsteps upon the leafy turf, and the next moment Paul +Déroulède emerged from out the thicket and came rapidly towards her.</p> + +<p>"We were so anxious about you at home!" he said, almost by way of an +apology. "My mother became so restless ..."</p> + +<p>"That to quiet her fears you came in search of me!" she retorted with +a gay little laugh, the laugh of a young girl, scarce a woman as yet, +who feels that she is good to look at, good to talk to, who feels her +wings for the first time, the wings with which to soar into that mad, +merry, elusive land called Romance. Ay, her wings! but her power also! +that sweet, subtle power of the woman: the yoke which men love, rail +at, and love again, the yoke that enslaves them and gives them the joy +of kings.</p> + +<p>How happy the day had been! Yet it had been incomplete!</p> + +<p>Pétronelle was somewhat dull, and Juliette was too young to enjoy long +companionship with her own thoughts. Now suddenly the day seemed to +have become perfect. There was someone there to appreciate the charm +of the woods, the beauty of that blue sky peeping though the tangled +foliage of the honeysuckle-covered trees. There was some one to talk +to, someone to admire the fresh white frock Juliette had put on that +morning.</p> + +<p>"But how did you know where to find me?" she asked with a quaint touch +of immature coquetry.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know," he replied quietly. "They told me you had gone to +Suresness, and meant to wander homewards through the woods. It +frightened me, for you will have to go through the north-west barrier, +and ..."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>He smiled, and looked earnestly for a moment at the dainty apparition +before him.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know!" he said gaily, "that tricolour scarf and the red cap +are not quite sufficient as a disguise: you look anything but a +staunch friend of the people. I guessed that your muslin frock would +be clean, and that there would still be some tell-tale lace upon it."</p> + +<p>She laughed again, and with delicate fingers lifted her pretty muslin +frock, displaying a white frou-frou of flounces beneath the hem.</p> + +<p>"How careless and childish!" he said, almost roughly.</p> + +<p>"Would you have me coarse and grimy to be a fitting match for your +partisans?" she retorted.</p> + +<p>His tone of mentor nettled her, his attitude seemed to her priggish +and dictatorial, and as the sun disappearing behind a sudden cloud, so +her childish merriment quickly gave place to a feeling of +unexplainable disappointment.</p> + +<p>"I humbly beg your pardon," he said quietly, "And must crave your +kind indulgence for my mood: but I have been so anxious ..."</p> + +<p>"Why should you be anxious about me?"</p> + +<p>She had meant to say this indifferently, as if caring little what the +reply might be: but in her effort to seem indifferent her voice became +haughty, a reminiscence of the days when she still was the daughter of +the Duc de Marny, the richest and most high-born heiress in France.</p> + +<p>"Was that presumptuous?" he asked, with a slight touch of irony, in +response to her own hauteur.</p> + +<p>"It was merely unnecessary," she replied. "I have already laid too +many burdens on your shoulders, without wishing to add that of +anxiety."</p> + +<p>"You have laid no burden on me," he said quietly, "save one of +gratitude."</p> + +<p>"Gratitude? What have I done?"</p> + +<p>"You committed a foolish, thoughtless act outside my door, and gave me +the chance of easing my conscience of a heavy load."</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"I had never hoped that the Fates would be so kind as to allow me to +render a member of your family a slight service."</p> + +<p>"I understand that you saved my life the other day, Monsieur +Déroulède. I know that I am still in peril and that I owe my safety to +you ..."</p> + +<p>"Do you also know that your brother owed his death to me?"</p> + +<p>She closed her lips firmly, unable to reply, wrathful with him, for +having suddenly and without any warning, placed a clumsy hand upon +that hidden sore.</p> + +<p>"I always meant to tell you," he continued somewhat hurriedly; "for it +almost seemed to me that I have been cheating you, these last few +days. I don't suppose that you can quite realise what it means to me +to tell you this just now; but I owe it to you, I think. In later +years you might find out, and then regret the days you spent under my +roof. I called you childish a moment ago, you must forgive me; I know +that you are a woman, and hope therefore that you will understand me. +I killed your brother in fair fight. He provoked me as no man was ever +provoked before ..."</p> + +<p>"Is it necessary, M. Déroulède, that you should tell me all this?" she +interrupted him with some impatience.</p> + +<p>"I thought you ought to know."</p> + +<p>"You must know, on the other hand, that I have no means of hearing the +history of the quarrel from my brother's point of view now."</p> + +<p>The moment the words were out of her lips she had realised how cruelly +she had spoken. He did not reply; he was too chivalrous, too gentle, +to reproach her. Perhaps he understood for the first time how bitterly +she had felt her brother's death, and how deeply she must be +suffering, now that she knew herself to be face to face with his +murderer.</p> + +<p>She stole a quick glance at him, through her tears. She was deeply +penitent for what she had said. It almost seemed to her as if a dual +nature was at war within her.</p> + +<p>The mention of her brother's name, the recollection of that awful +night beside his dead body, of those four years whilst she watched her +father's moribund reason slowly wandering towards the grave, seemed to +rouse in her a spirit of rebellion, and of evil, which she felt was +not entirely of herself.</p> + +<p>The woods had become quite silent. It was late afternoon, and they +had gradually wandered farther and farther away from pretty sylvan +Suresness, towards great, anarchic, deathdealing Paris. In this part +of the woods the birds had left their homes; the trees, shorn of their +lower branches looked like gaunt spectres, raising melancholy heads +towards the relentless, silent sky.</p> + +<p>In the distance, from behind the barriers, a couple of miles away, the +boom of a gun was heard.</p> + +<p>"They are closing the barriers," he said quietly after a long pause. +"I am glad I was fortunate enough to meet you."</p> + +<p>"It was kind of you to seek for me," she said meekly. "I didn't mean +what I said just now ..."</p> + +<p>"I pray you, say no more about it. I can so well understand. I only +wish ..."</p> + +<p>"It would be best I should leave your house," she said gently; "I have +so ill repaid your hospitality. Pétronelle and I can easily go back to +our lodgings."</p> + +<p>"You would break my mother's heart if you left her now," he said, +almost roughly. "She has become very fond of you, and knows, just as +well as I do, the dangers that would beset you outside my house. My +coarse and grimy partisans," he added, with a bitter touch of sarcasm, +"have that advantage, that they are loyal to me, and would not harm +you while under my roof."</p> + +<p>"But you ..." she murmured.</p> + +<p>She felt somehow that she had wounded him very deeply, and was half +angry with herself for her seeming ingratitude, and yet childishly +glad to have suppressed in him that attitude of mentorship, which he +was beginning to assume over her.</p> + +<p>"You need not fear that my presence will offend you much longer, +mademoiselle," he said coldly. "I can quite understand how hateful it +must be to you, though I would have wished that you could believe at +least in my sincerity."</p> + +<p>"Are you going away then?"</p> + +<p>"Not out of Paris altogether. I have accepted the post of Governor of +the Conciergerie."</p> + +<p>"Ah!—where the poor Queen ..."</p> + +<p>She checked herself suddenly. Those words would have been called +treasonable to the people of France.</p> + +<p>Instinctively and furtively, as everyone did in these days, she cast a +rapid glance behind her.</p> + +<p>"You need not be afraid," he said; "there is no one here but +Pétronelle."</p> + +<p>"And you."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I echo your words. Poor Marie Antoinette!"</p> + +<p>"You pity her?"</p> + +<p>"How can I help it?"</p> + +<p>"But you are of that horrible National Convention, who will try her, +condemn her, execute her as they did the King."</p> + +<p>"I am of the National Convention. But I will not condemn her, nor be +a party to another crime. I go as Governor of the Conciergerie, to +help her, if I can."</p> + +<p>"But your popularity—your life—if you befriend her?"</p> + +<p>"As you say, mademoiselle, my life, if I befriend her," he said +simply.</p> + +<p>She looked at him with renewed curiosity in her gaze.</p> + +<p>How strange were men in these days! Paul Déroulède, the republican, +the recognised idol of the lawless people of France, was about to risk +his life for the woman he had helped to dethrone.</p> + +<p>Pity with him did not end with the rabble of Paris; it had reached +Charlotte Corday, though it failed to save her, and now it extended to +the poor dispossessed Queen. Somehow, in his face this time, she saw +either success or death.</p> + +<p>"When do you leave?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow night."</p> + +<p>She said nothing more. Strangely enough, a tinge of melancholy had +settled over her spirits. No doubt the proximity of the town was the +cause of this. She could already hear the familiar noise of muffled +drums, the loud, excited shrieking of the mob, who stood round the +gates of Paris, at this time of the evening, waiting to witness some +important capture, perhaps that of a hated aristocrat striving to +escape from the people's revenge.</p> + +<p>They had reached the edge of the wood, and gradually, as she walked, +the flowers she had gathered fell unheeded out of her listless hands +one by one.</p> + +<p>First the blue lupins: their bud-laden heads were heavy and they +dropped to the ground, followed by the white marguerites, that lay +thick behind her now on the grass like a shroud. The red poppies were +the lightest, their thin gummy stalks clung to her hands longer than +the rest. At last she let them fall too, singly, like great drops of +blood, that glistened as her long white gown swept them aside.</p> + +<p>Déroulède was absorbed in his thoughts, and seemed not to heed her. +At the barrier, however, he roused himself and took out the passes +which alone enabled Juliette and Pétronelle to re-enter the town +unchallenged. He himself as Citizen-Deputy could come and go as he +wished.</p> + +<p>Juliette shuddered as the great gates closed behind her with a heavy +clank. It seemed to shut out even the memory of this happy day, which +for a brief space had been quite perfect.</p> + +<p>She did not know Paris very well, and wondered where lay that gloomy +Conciergerie, where a dethroned queen was living her last days, in an +agonised memory of the past. But as they crossed the bridge she +recognised all round her the massive towers of the great city: Notre +Dame, the grateful spire of La Sainte Chapelle, the sombre outline of +St. Gervais, and behind her the Louvre with its great history and +irreclaimable grandeur. How small her own tragedy seemed in the midst +of this great sanguinary drama, the last act of which had not yet even +begun. Her own revenge, her oath, her tribulations, what were they in +comparison with that great flaming Nemesis which had swept away a +throne, that vow of retaliation carried out by thousands against other +thousands, that long story of degradation, of regicide, of fratricide, +the awesome chapters of which were still being unfolded one by one?</p> + +<p>She felt small and petty: ashamed of the pleasure she had felt in the +woods, ashamed of her high spirits and light-heartedness, ashamed of +that feeling of sudden pity and admiration for the man who had done +her and her family so deep an injury, which she was too feeble, too +vacillating to avenge.</p> + +<p>The majestic outline of the Louvre seemed to frown sarcastically on +her weakness, the silent river to mock her and her wavering purpose. +The man beside her had wronged her and hers far more deeply than the +Bourbons had wronged their people. The people of France were taking +their revenge, and God had at the close of this last happy day of her +life pointed once more to the means for her great end.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> +The Scarlet Pimpernel.</h3> + + +<p>It was some few hours later. The ladies sat in the drawing-room, +silent and anxious.</p> + +<p>Soon after supper a visitor had called, and had been closeted with +Paul Déroulède in the latter's study for the past two hours.</p> + +<p>A tall, somewhat lazy-looking figure, he was sitting at a table face +to face with the Citizen-Deputy. On a chair beside him lay a heavy +caped coat, covered with the dust and the splashings of a long +journey, but he himself was attired in clothes that suggested the most +fastidious taste, and the most perfect of tailors; he wore with +apparent ease the eccentric fashion of the time, the short-waisted +coat of many lapels, the double waistcoat and billows of delicate +lace. Unlike Déroulède he was of great height, with fair hair and a +somewhat lazy expression in his good-natured blue eyes, and as he +spoke, there was just a soupçon of foreign accent in the pronunciation +of the French vowels, a certain drawl of o's and a's, that would have +betrayed the Britisher to an observant ear.</p> + +<p>The two men had been talking earnestly for some time, the tall +Englishman was watching his friend keenly, whilst an amused, pleasant +smile lingered round the corners of his firm mouth and jaw. Déroulède, +restless and enthusiastic, was pacing to and fro.</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand now, how you managed to reach Paris, my dear +Blakeney!" said Déroulède at last, placing an anxious hand on his +friend's shoulder. "The government has not forgotten The Scarlet +Pimpernel."</p> + +<p>"La! I took care of that!" responded Blakeney with his short, +pleasant laugh. "I sent Tinville my autograph this morning."</p> + +<p>"You are mad, Blakeney!"</p> + +<p>"Not altogether, my friend. My faith! 'twas not only foolhardiness +caused me to grant that devilish prosecutor another sight of my +scarlet device. I knew what you maniacs would be after, so I came +across in the <i>Daydream,</i> just to see if I couldn't get my share of the +fun."</p> + +<p>"Fun, you call it?" queried the other bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Nay! what would you have me call it? A mad, insane, senseless +tragedy, with but one issue?—the guillotine for you all."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you come?"</p> + +<p>"To—What shall I say, my friend?" rejoined Sir Percy Blakeney, with +that inimitable drawl of his. "To give your demmed government +something else to think about, whilst you are all busy running your +heads into a noose."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think we are doing that?"</p> + +<p>"Three things, my friend—may I offer you a pinch of snuff—No?—Ah +well!..." And with the graceful gesture of an accomplished dandy, Sir +Percy flicked off a grain of dust from his immaculate Mechlin ruffles.</p> + +<p>"Three things," he continued quietly; "an imprisoned Queen, about to +be tried for her life, the temperament of a Frenchman—some of them— +and the idiocy of mankind generally. These three things make me think +that a certain section of hot-headed Republicans with yourself, my +dear Déroulède, <i>en tête,</i> are about to attempt the most stupid, +senseless, purposeless thing that was ever concocted by the excitable +brain of a demmed Frenchman."</p> + +<p>Déroulède smiled.</p> + +<p>"Does it not seem amusing to you, Blakeney, that you should sit there +and condemn anyone for planning mad, insane, senseless things."</p> + +<p>"La! I'll not sit, I'll stand!" rejoined Blakeney with a laugh, as he +drew himself up to his full height, and stretched his long, lazy +limbs. "And now let me tell you, friend, that my League of The Scarlet +Pimpernel never attempted the impossible, and to try and drag the +Queen out of the clutches of these murderous rascals now, is +attempting the unattainable."</p> + +<p>"And yet we mean to try."</p> + +<p>"I know it. I guessed it, that is why I came: that is also why I sent +a pleasant little note to the Committee of Public Safety, signed with +the device they know so well: The Scarlet Pimpernel."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well! the result is obvious. Robespierre, Danton, Tinville, Merlin, +and the whole of the demmed murderous crowd, will be busy looking +after me—a needle in a haystack. They'll put the abortive attempt +down to me, and you may—<i>ma foi!</i> I only suggest that you <i>may</i> +escape safely out of France—in the <i>Daydream,</i> and with the help of +your humble servant."</p> + +<p>"But in the meanwhile they'll discover you, and they'll not let you +escape a second time."</p> + +<p>"My friend! if a terrier were to lose his temper, he never would run a +rat to earth. Now your Revolutionary Government has lost its temper +with me, ever since I slipped through Chauvelin's fingers; they are +blind with their own fury, whilst I am perfectly happy and cool as a +cucumber. My life has become valuable to me, my friend. There is +someone over the water now who weeps when I don't return—No! no! +never fear—they'll not get The Scarlet Pimpernel this journey ..."</p> + +<p>He laughed, a gay, pleasant laugh, and his strong, firm face seemed to +soften at thought of the beautiful wife, over in England, who was +waiting anxiously for his safe return.</p> + +<p>"And yet you'll not help us to rescue the Queen?" rejoined Déroulède, +with some bitterness.</p> + +<p>"By every means in my power," replied Blakeney, "save the insane. But +I will help to get you all out of the demmed hole, when you have +failed."</p> + +<p>"We'll not fail," asserted the other hotly.</p> + +<p>Sir Percy Blakeney went close up to his friend and placed his long, +slender hand, with a touch of almost womanly tenderness upon the +latter's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me your plans?"</p> + +<p>In a moment Déroulède was all fire and enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"There are not many of us in it," he began, "although half France will +be in sympathy with us. We have plenty of money, of course, and also +the necessary disguise for the royal lady."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I, in the meanwhile, have asked for and obtained the post of Governor +of the Conciergerie; I go into my new quarters to-morrow. In the +meanwhile, I am making arrangements for my mother and—and those +dependent upon me to quit France immediately."</p> + +<p>Blakeney had perceived the slight hesitation when Déroulède mentioned +those dependent upon him. He looked scrutinisingly at his friend, who +continued quickly:</p> + +<p>"I am still very popular among the people. My family can go about +unmolested. I must get them out of France, however, in case—in +case ..."</p> + +<p>"Of course," rejoined the other simply.</p> + +<p>"As soon as I am assured that they are safe, my friends and I can +prosecute our plans. You see the trial of the Queen has not yet been +decided on, but I know that it is in the air. We hope to get her away, +disguised in one of the uniforms of the National Guard. As you know, +it will be my duty to make the final round every evening in the +prison, and to see that everything is safe for the night. Two fellows +watch all night, in the room next to that occupied by the Queen. +Usually they drink and play cards all night long. I want an +opportunity to drug their brandy, and thus to render them more loutish +and idiotic than usual; then for a blow on the head that will make +them senseless. It should be easy, for I have a strong fist, and after +that ..."</p> + +<p>"Well? After that, friend?" rejoined Sir Percy earnestly, "after +that? Shall I fill in the details of the picture?—the guard +twenty-five strong outside the Conciergerie, how will you pass them?"</p> + +<p>"I as the Governor, followed by one of my guards ..."</p> + +<p>"To go whither?"</p> + +<p>"I have the right to come and go as I please."</p> + +<p>"I' faith! so you have, but 'one of your guards'—eh? Wrapped to the +eyes in a long mantle to hide the female figure beneath. I have been +in Paris but a few hours, and yet already I have realised that there +is not one demmed citizen within its walls, who does not at this +moment suspect some other demmed citizen of conniving at the Queen's +escape. Even the sparrows on the house-tops are objects of suspicion. +No figure wrapped in a mantle will from this day forth leave Paris +unchallenged."</p> + +<p>"But you yourself, friend?" suggested Déroulède. "You think you can +quit Paris unrecognised—then why not the Queen?"</p> + +<p>"Because she is a woman, and has been a queen. She has nerves, poor +soul, and weaknesses of body and of mind now. Alas for her! Alas for +France! who wreaks such idle vengeance on so poor an enemy? Can you +take hold of Marie Antoinette by the shoulders, shove her into the +bottom of a cart and pile sacks of potatoes on the top of her? I did +that to the Comtesse de Tournai and her daughter, as stiff-necked a +pair of French aristocrats as ever deserved the guillotine for their +insane prejudices. But can you do it to Marie Antoinette? She'd rebuke +you publicly, and betray herself and you in a flash, sooner than +submit to a loss of dignity."</p> + +<p>"But would you leave her to her fate?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! there's the trouble, friend. Do you think you need appeal to the +sense of chivalry of my league? We are still twenty strong, and heart +and soul in sympathy with your mad schemes. The poor, poor Queen! But +you are bound to fail, and then who will help you all, if we too are +put out of the way?"</p> + +<p>"We should succeed if you helped us. At one time you used proudly to +say: 'The League of The Scarlet Pimpernel has never failed.'"</p> + +<p>"Because it attempted nothing which it could not accomplish. But, la! +since you put me on my mettle—Demm it all! I'll have to think about +it!"</p> + +<p>And he laughed that funny, somewhat inane laugh of his, which had +deceived the clever men of two countries as to his real personality.</p> + +<p>Déroulède went up to the heavy oak desk which occupied a conspicuous +place in the centre of one of the walls. He unlocked it and drew forth +a bundle of papers.</p> + +<p>"Will you look through these?" he asked, handing them to Sir Percy +Blakeney.</p> + +<p>"What are they?"</p> + +<p>"Different schemes I have drawn up, in case my original plan should +not succeed."</p> + +<p>"Burn them, my friend," said Blakeney laconically. "Have you not yet +learned the lesson of never putting your hand to paper?"</p> + +<p>"I can't burn these. You see, I shall not be able to have long +conversations with Marie Antoinette. I must give her my suggestions in +writing, that she may study them and not fail me, through lack of +knowledge of her part."</p> + +<p>"Better that than papers in these times, my friend: these papers, if +found, would send you, untried, to the guillotine."</p> + +<p>"I am careful, and, at present, quite beyond suspicion. Moreover, +among the papers is a complete collection of passports, suitable for +any character the Queen and her attendant may be forced to assume. It +has taken me some months to collect them, so as not to arouse +suspicion; I gradually got them together, on one pretence or another: +now I am ready for any eventuality ..."</p> + +<p>He suddenly paused. A look in his friend's face had given him a swift +warning.</p> + +<p>He turned, and there in the doorway, holding back the heavy portière, +stood Juliette, graceful, smiling, a little pale, this no doubt owing +to the flickering light of the unsnuffed candles.</p> + +<p>So young and girlish did she look in her soft, white muslin frock that +at sight of her the tension in Déroulède's face seemed to relax. +Instinctively he had thrown the papers back into the desk, but his +look had softened, from the fire of obstinate energy to that of +inexpressible tenderness.</p> + +<p>Blakeney was quietly watching the young girl as she stood in the +doorway, a little bashful and undecided.</p> + +<p>"Madame Déroulède sent me," she said hesitatingly, "she says the hour +is getting late and she is very anxious. M. Déroulède, would you come +and reassure her?"</p> + +<p>"In a moment, mademoiselle," he replied lightly, "my friend and I have +just finished our talk. May I have the honour to present him?—Sir +Percy Blakeney, a traveller from England. Blakeney, this is +Mademoiselle Juliette de Marny, my mother's guest."</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><br /> +A warning.</h3> + + +<p>Sir Percy bowed very low, with all the graceful flourish and elaborate +gesture the eccentric customs of the time demanded.</p> + +<p>He had not said a word, since the first exclamation of warning, with +which he had drawn his friend's attention to the young girl in the +doorway.</p> + +<p>Noiselessly, as she had come, Juliette glided out of the room again, +leaving behind her an atmosphere of wild flowers, of the bouquet she +had gathered, then scattered in the woods.</p> + +<p>There was silence in the room for awhile. Déroulède was locking up +his desk and slipping the keys into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Shall we join my mother for a moment, Blakeney?" he said, moving +towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I shall be proud to pay my respects," replied Sir Percy; "but before +we close the subject, I think I'll change my mind about those papers. +If I am to be of service to you I think I had best look through them, +and give you my opinion of your schemes."</p> + +<p>Déroulède looked at him keenly for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," he said at last, going up to his desk. "I'll stay with +you whilst you read them through."</p> + +<p>"La! not to-night, my friend," said Sir Percy lightly; "the hour is +late, and madame is waiting for us. They'll be quite safe with me, and +you'll entrust them to my care."</p> + +<p>Déroulède seemed to hesitate. Blakeney had spoken in his usual airy +manner, and was even now busy readjusting the set of his +perfectly-tailored coat.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you cannot quite trust me?" laughed Sir Percy gaily. "I +seemed too lukewarm just now."</p> + +<p>"No; it's not that, Blakeney!" said Déroulède quietly at last. "There +is no mistrust in me, all the mistrust is on your side."</p> + +<p>"Faith!—" began Sir Percy.</p> + +<p>"Nay! do not explain. I understand and appreciate your friendship, +but I should like to convince you how unjust is your mistrust of one +of God's purest angels, that ever walked the earth."</p> + +<p>"Oho! that's it, is it, friend Déroulède? Methought you had foresworn +the sex altogether, and now you are in love."</p> + +<p>"Madly, blindly, stupidly in love, my friend," said Déroulède with a +sigh. "Hopelessly, I fear me!"</p> + +<p>"Why hopelessly?"</p> + +<p>"She is the daughter of the late Duc de Marny, one of the oldest names +in France; a Royalist to the backbone ..."</p> + +<p>"Hence your overwhelming sympathy for the Queen!"</p> + +<p>"Nay! you wrong me there, friend. I'd have tried to save the Queen, +even if I had never learned to love Juliette. But you see now how +unjust were your suspicions."</p> + +<p>"Had I any?"</p> + +<p>"Don't deny it. You were loud in urging me to burn those papers a +moment ago. You called them useless and dangerous and now ..."</p> + +<p>"I still think them useless and dangerous, and by reading them would +wish to confirm my opinion and give weight to my arguments."</p> + +<p>"If I were to part from them now I would seem to be mistrusting her."</p> + +<p>"You are a mad idealist, my dear Déroulède!"</p> + +<p>"How can I help it? I have lived under the same roof with her for +three weeks now. I have begun to understand what a saint is like."</p> + +<p>"And 'twill be when you understand that your idol has feet of clay +that you'll learn the real lesson of love," said Blakeney earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Is it love to worship a saint in heaven, whom you dare not touch, who +hovers above you like a cloud, which floats away from you even as you +gaze? To love is to feel one being in the world at one with us, our +equal in sin as well as in virtue. To love, for us men, is to clasp +one woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and breathes just as +we do, suffers as we do, thinks with us, loves with us, and, above +all, sins with us. Your mock saint who stands in a niche is not a +woman if she have not suffered, still less a woman if she have not +sinned. Fall at the feet of your idol an you wish, but drag her down +to your level after that—the only level she should ever reach, that +of your heart."</p> + +<p>Who shall render faithfully a true account of the magnetism which +poured forth from this remarkable man as he spoke: this well-dressed, +foppish apostle of the greatest love that man has ever known. And as +he spoke the whole story of his own great, true love for the woman who +once had so deeply wronged him seemed to stand clearly written in the +strong, lazy, good-humoured, kindly face glowing with tenderness for +her.</p> + +<p>Déroulède felt this magnetism, and therefore did not resent the +implied suggestion, anent the saint whom he was still content to +worship.</p> + +<p>A dreamer and an idealist, his mind held spellbound by the great +social problems which were causing the upheaval of a whole country, he +had not yet had the time to learn the sweet lesson which Nature +teaches to her elect—the lesson of a great, a true, human and +passionate love. To him, at present, Juliette represented the perfect +embodiment of his most idealistic dreams. She stood in his mind so far +above him that if she proved unattainable, he would scarce have +suffered. It was such a foregone conclusion.</p> + +<p>Blakeney's words were the first to stir in his heart a desire for +something beyond that quasi-mediaeval worship, something weaker and +yet infinitely stronger, something more earthy and yet almost divine.</p> + +<p>"And now, shall we join the ladies?" said Blakeney after a long pause, +during which the mental workings of his alert brain were almost +visible, in the earnest look which he cast at his friend. "You shall +keep the papers in your desk, give them into the keeping of your +saint, trust her all in all rather than not at all, and if the time +should come that your heaven-enthroned ideal fall somewhat heavily to +earth, then give me the privilege of being a witness to your +happiness."</p> + +<p>"You are still mistrustful, Blakeney," said Déroulède lightly. "If +you say much more I'll give these papers into Mademoiselle Marny's +keeping until to-morrow."</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><br /> +Anne Mie.</h3> + + +<p>That night, when Blakeney, wrapped in his cloak, was walking down the +Rue Ecole de Médecine towards his own lodgings, he suddenly felt a +timid hand upon his sleeve.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie stood beside him, her pale, melancholy face peeping up at the +tall Englishman, through the folds of a dark hood closely tied under +her chin.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," she said timidly, "do not think me very presumptuous. I— +I would wish to have five minutes' talk with you—may I?"</p> + +<p>He looked down with great kindness at the quaint, wizened little +figure, and the strong face softened at the sight of the poor, +deformed shoulder, the hard, pinched look of the young mouth, the +general look of pathetic helplessness which appeals so strongly to the +chivalrous.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, mademoiselle," he said gently, "you make me very proud; and I +can serve you in any way, I pray you command me. But," he added, +seeing Anne Mie's somewhat scared look, "this street is scarce fit for +private conversation. Shall we try and find a better spot?"</p> + +<p>Paris had not yet gone to bed. In these times it was really safest to +be out in the open streets. There, everybody was more busy, more on +the move, on the lookout for suspected houses, leaving the wanderer +alone.</p> + +<p>Blakeney led Anne Mie towards the Luxembourg Gardens, the great +devastated pleasure-ground of the ci-devant tyrants of the people. The +beautiful Anne of Austria, and the Medici before her, Louis XIII, and +his gallant musketeers—all have given place to the great +cannon-forging industry of this besieged Republic. France, attacked on +every side, is forcing her sons to defend her: persecuted, martyrised, +done to death by her, she is still their Mother: La Patrie, who needs +their arms against the foreign foe. England is threatening the north, +Prussia and Austria the east. Admiral Hood's flag is flying on Toulon +Arsenal.</p> + +<p>The siege of the Republic!</p> + +<p>And the Republic is fighting for dear life. The Tuileries and +Luxembourg Gardens are transformed into a township of gigantic +smithies; and Anne Mie, with scared eyes, and clinging to Blakeney's +arm, cast furtive, terrified glances at the huge furnaces and the +begrimed, darkly scowling faces of the workers within.</p> + +<p>"The people of France in arms against tyranny!" Great placards, +bearing these inspiriting words, are affixed to gallows-shaped posts, +and flutter in the evening breeze, rendered scorching by the heat of +the furnaces all around.</p> + +<p>Farther on, a group of older men, squatting on the ground, are busy +making tents, and some women—the same Megaeras who daily shriek +round the guillotine—are plying their needles and scissors for the +purpose of making clothes for the soldiers.</p> + +<p>The soldiers are the entire able-bodied male population of France.</p> + +<p>"The people of France in arms against tyranny!"</p> + +<p>That is their sign, their trade-mark; one of these placards, fitfully +illumined by a torch of resin, towers above a group of children busy +tearing up scraps of old linen—their mothers', their sisters' linen +—in order to make lint for the wounded.</p> + +<p>Loud curses and suppressed mutterings fill the smoke-laden air.</p> + +<p>The people of France, in arms against tyranny, is bending its broad +back before the most cruel, the most absolute and brutish +slave-driving ever exercised over mankind.</p> + +<p>Not even mediaeval Christianity has ever dared such wholesale +enforcements of its doctrines, as this constitution of Liberty and +Fraternity.</p> + +<p>Merlin's "Law of the Suspect" has just been formulated. From now +onward each and every citizen of France must watch his words, his +looks, his gestures, lest they be suspect. Of what—of treason to the +Republic, to the people? Nay, worse! lest they be suspect of being +suspect to the great era of Liberty.</p> + +<p>Therefore in the smithies and among the groups of tent-makers a +moment's negligence, a careless attention to the work, might lead to a +brief trial on the morrow and the inevitable guillotine. Negligence is +treason to the higher interests of the Republic.</p> + +<p>Blakeney dragged Anne Mie away from the sight. These roaring furnaces +frightened her; he took her down the Place St Michel, towards the +river. It was quieter here.</p> + +<p>"What dreadful people they have become," she said, shuddering; "even I +can remember how different they used to be."</p> + +<p>The houses on the banks of the river were mostly converted into +hospitals, preparatory for the great siege. Some hundred mètres lower +down, the new children's hospital, endowed by Citizen-Deputy +Déroulède, loomed, white, clean, and comfortable-looking, amidst its +more squalid fellows.</p> + +<p>"I think it would be best not to sit down," suggested Blakeney, "and +wiser for you to throw your hood away from your face."</p> + +<p>He seemed to have no fears for himself; many had said that he bore a +charmed life; and yet ever since Admiral Hood had planted his flag on +Toulon Arsenal, the English were more feared than ever, and The +Scarlet Pimpernel more hated than most.</p> + +<p>"You wished to speak to me about Paul Déroulède," he said kindly, +seeing that the young girl was making desperate efforts to say what +lay on her mind. "He is my friend, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is why I wished to ask you a question," she replied.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Who is Juliette de Marny, and why did she seek an entrance into +Paul's house?"</p> + +<p>"Did she seek it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I saw the scene from the balcony. At the time it did not strike +me as a farce. I merely thought that she had been stupid and +foolhardy. But since then I have reflected. She provoked the mob of +the street, wilfully, just at the very moment when she reached M. +Déroulède's door. She meant to appeal to his chivalry, and called for +help, well knowing that he would respond."</p> + +<p>She spoke rapidly and excitedly now, throwing off all shyness and +reserve. Blakeney was forced to check her vehemence, which might have +been thought "suspicious" by some idle citizen unpleasantly inclined.</p> + +<p>"Well? And now?" he asked, for the young girl had paused, as if +ashamed of her excitement.</p> + +<p>"And now she stays in the house, on and on, day after day," continued +Anne Mie, speaking more quietly, though with no less intensity. "Why +does she not go? She is not safe in France. She belongs to the most +hated of all the classes—the idle, rich aristocrats of the old +régime. Paul has several times suggested plans for her emigration to +England. Madame Déroulède, who is an angel, loves her, and would not +like to part from her, but it would be obviously wiser for her to go, +and yet she stays. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Presumably because ..."</p> + +<p>"Because she is in love with Paul?" interrupted Anne Mie vehemently. +"No, no; she does not love him—at least—Oh! sometimes I don't +know. Her eyes light up when he comes, and she is listless when he +goes. She always spends a longer time over her toilet, when we expect +him home to dinner," she added, with a touch of naïve femininity. "But— +if it be love, then that love is strange and unwomanly; it is a love +that will not be for his good ..."</p> + +<p>"Why should you think that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said the girl simply. "Isn't it an instinct?"</p> + +<p>"Not a very unerring one in this case, I fear."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because your own love for Paul Déroulède has blinded you— Ah! you +must pardon me, mademoiselle; you sought this conversation and not I, +and I fear me I have wounded you. Yet I would wish you to know how +deep is my sympathy with you, and how great my desire to render you a +service if I could."</p> + +<p>"I was about to ask a service of you, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Then command me, I beg of you."</p> + +<p>"You are Paul's friend—persuade him that that woman in his house is +a standing danger to his life and liberty."</p> + +<p>"He would not listen to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh! a man always listens to another."</p> + +<p>"Except on one subject—the woman he loves."</p> + +<p>He had said the last words very gently but very firmly. He was +deeply, tenderly sorry for the poor, deformed, fragile girl, doomed to +be a witness of that most heartrending of human tragedies, the passing +away of her own scarce-hoped-for happiness. But he felt that at this +moment the kindest act would be one of complete truth. He knew that +Paul Déroulède's heart was completely given to Juliette de Marny; he +too, like Anne Mie, instinctively mistrusted the beautiful girl and +her strange, silent ways, but, unlike the poor hunchback, he knew that +no sin which Juliette might commit would henceforth tear her from out +the heart of his friend; that if, indeed, she turned out to be false, +or even treacherous, she would, nevertheless, still hold a place in +Déroulède's very soul, which no one else would ever fill.</p> + +<p>"You think he loves her?" asked Anne Mie at last.</p> + +<p>"I am sure of it."</p> + +<p>"And she?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! I do not know. I would trust your instinct—a woman's—sooner +than my own."</p> + +<p>"She is false, I tell you, and is hatching treason against Paul."</p> + +<p>"Then all we can do is to wait."</p> + +<p>"Wait?"</p> + +<p>"And watch carefully, earnestly, all the time. There! shall I pledge +you my word that Déroulède shall come to no harm?"</p> + +<p>"Pledge me your word that you'll part him from that woman."</p> + +<p>"Nay; that is beyond my power. A man like Paul Déroulède only loves +once in life, but when he does, it is for always."</p> + +<p>Once more she was silent, pressing her lips closely together, as if +afraid of what she might say.</p> + +<p>He saw that she was bitterly disappointed, and sought for a means of +tempering the cruelty of the blow.</p> + +<p>"It will be your task to watch over Paul," he said; "with your +friendship to guard and protect him, we need have no fear for his +safety, I think."</p> + +<p>"I will watch," she replied quietly.</p> + +<p>Gradually he had led her steps back towards the Rue Ecole de Médecine.</p> + +<p>A great melancholy had fallen over his bold, adventurous spirit. How +full of tragedies was this great city, in the last throes of its +insane and cruel struggle for an unattainable goal. And yet, despite +its guillotine and mock trials, its tyrannical laws and overfilled +prisons, its very sorrows paled before the dead, dull misery of this +deformed girl's heart.</p> + +<p>A wild exaltation, a fever of enthusiasm lent glamour to the scenes +which were daily enacted on the Place de la Revolution, turning the +final acts of the tragedies into glaring, lurid melodrama, almost +unreal in its poignant appeal to the sensibilities.</p> + +<p>But here there was only this dead, dull misery, an aching heart, a +poor, fragile creature in the throes of an agonised struggle for a +fast-disappearing happiness.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie hardly knew now what she had hoped, when she sought this +interview with Sir Percy Blakeney. Drowning in a sea of hopelessness, +she had clutched at what might prove a chance of safety. Her reason +told her that Paul's friend was right. Déroulède was a man who would +love but once in his life. He had never loved—for he had too much +pitied—poor, pathetic little Anne Mie.</p> + +<p>Nay; why should we say that love and pity are akin?</p> + +<p>Love, the great, the strong, the conquering god—Love that subdues a +world, and rides roughshod over principle, virtue, tradition, over +home, kindred, and religion—what cares he for the easy conquest of +the pathetic being, who appeals to his sympathy?</p> + +<p>Love means equality—the same height of heroism or of sin. When Love +stoops to pity, he has ceased to soar in the boundless space, that +rarefied atmosphere wherein man feels himself made at last truly in +the image of God.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><br /> +Jealousy.</h3> + + +<p>At the door of her home Blakeney parted from Anne Mie, with all the +courtesy with which he would have bade adieu to the greatest lady in +his own land.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie let herself into the house with her own latch-key. She +closed the heavy door noiselessly, then glided upstairs like a quaint +little ghost.</p> + +<p>But on the landing above she met Paul Déroulède.</p> + +<p>He had just come out of his room, and was still fully dressed.</p> + +<p>"Anne Mie!" he said, with such an obvious cry of pleasure, that the +young girl, with beating heart, paused a moment on the top of the +stairs, as if hoping to hear that cry again, feeling that indeed he +was glad to see her, had been uneasy because of her long absence.</p> + +<p>"Have I made you anxious?" she asked at last.</p> + +<p>"Anxious!" he exclaimed. "Little one, I have hardly lived this last +hour, since I realised that you had gone out so late as this, and all +alone."</p> + +<p>"How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle de Marny knocked at my door an hour ago. She had gone +to your room to see you, and, not finding you there, she searched the +house for you, and finally, in her anxiety, came to me. We did not +dare to tell my mother. I won't ask you where you have been, Anne Mie, +but another time, remember, little one, that the streets of Paris are +not safe, and that those who love you suffer deeply, when they know +you to be in peril."</p> + +<p>"Those who love me!" murmured the girl under her breath.</p> + +<p>"Could you not have asked me to come with you?"</p> + +<p>"No; I wanted to be alone. The streets were quite safe, and—I +wanted to speak with Sir Percy Blakeney."</p> + +<p>"With Blakeney?" he exclaimed in boundless astonishment. "Why, what +in the world did you want to say him?"</p> + +<p>The girl, so unaccustomed to lying, had blurted out the truth, almost +against her will.</p> + +<p>"I thought he could help me, as I was much perturbed and restless."</p> + +<p>"You went to him sooner than to me?" said Déroulède in a tone of +gentle reproach, and still puzzled at this extraordinary action on the +part of the girl, usually so shy and reserved.</p> + +<p>"My anxiety was about you, and you would have mocked me for it."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I should never mock you, Anne Mie. But why should you be +anxious about me?"</p> + +<p>"Because I see you wandering blindly on the brink of a great danger, +and because I see you confiding in those, whom you had best mistrust."</p> + +<p>He frowned a little, and bit his lip to check the rough word that was +on the tip of his tongue.</p> + +<p>"Is Sir Percy Blakeney one of those whom I had best mistrust?" he said +lightly.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered curtly.</p> + +<p>"Then, dear, there is no cause for unrest. He is the only one of my +friends whom you have not known intimately. All those who are round me +now, you know that you can trust and that you can love," he added +earnestly and significantly.</p> + +<p>He took her hand; it was trembling with obvious suppressed agitation. +She knew that he had guessed what was passing in her mind, and now was +deeply ashamed of what she had done. She had been tortured with +jealousy for the past three weeks, but at least she had suffered quite +alone: no one had been allowed to touch that wound, which more often +than not, excites derision rather than pity. Now, by her own actions, +two men knew her secret. Both were kind and sympathetic; but Déroulède +resented her imputations, and Blakeney had been unable to help her.</p> + +<p>A wave of morbid introspection swept over her soul. She realised in a +moment how petty and base had been her thoughts and how purposeless +her actions. She would have given her life at this moment to eradicate +from Déroulède's mind the knowledge of her own jealousy; she hoped +that at least he had not guessed her love.</p> + +<p>She tried to read his thoughts, but in the dark passage, only dimly +lighted by the candles in Déroulède's room beyond, she could not see +the expression of his face, but the hand which held hers was warm and +tender. She felt herself pitied, and blushed at the thought. With a +hasty good-night she fled down the passage, and locked herself in her +room, alone with her own thoughts at last.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /><br /> +Denunciation.</h3> + + +<p>But what of Juliette?</p> + +<p>What of this wild, passionate, romantic creature tortured by a Titanic +conflict? She, but a girl, scarcely yet a woman, torn by the greatest +antagonistic powers that ever fought for a human soul. On the one side +duty, tradition, her dead brother, her father—above all, her +religion and the oath she had sworn before God; on the other justice +and honour, a case of right and wrong, honesty and pity.</p> + +<p>How she fought with these powers now!</p> + +<p>She fought with them, struggled with them on her knees. She tried to +crush memory, tried to forget that awful midnight scene ten years ago, +her brother's dead body, her father's avenging hand holding her own, +as he begged her to do that, which he was too feeble, too old to +accomplish.</p> + +<p>His words rang in her ears from across that long vista of the past.</p> + +<p>"Before the face of Almighty God, who sees and hears me, I swear ..."</p> + +<p>And she had repeated those words loudly and of her own free will, with +her hand resting on her brother's breast, and God Himself looking down +upon her, for she had called upon Him to listen.</p> + +<p>"I swear that I will seek out Paul Déroulède, and in any manner which +God may dictate to me encompass his death, his ruin, or dishonour in +revenge for my brother's death. May my brother's soul remain in +torment until the final Judgment Day if I should break my oath, but +may it rest in eternal peace, the day on which his death is fitly +avenged."</p> + +<p>Almost it seemed to her as if father and brother were standing by her +side, as she knelt and prayed.—Oh! how she prayed!</p> + +<p>In many ways she was only a child. All her years had been passed in +confinement, either beside her dying father or, later, between the +four walls of the Ursuline Convent. And during those years her soul +had been fed on a contemplative, ecstatic religion, a kind of +sanctified superstition, which she would have deemed sacrilege to +combat.</p> + +<p>Her first step into womanhood was taken with that oath upon her lips; +since then, with a stoical sense of duty, she had lashed herself into +a daily, hourly remembrance of the great mission imposed upon her.</p> + +<p>To have neglected it would have been, to her, equal to denying God.</p> + +<p>She had but vague ideas of the doctrinal side of religion. Purgatory +was to her merely a word, but a word representing a real spiritual +state—one of expectancy, of restlessness, of sorrow. And vaguely, +yet determinedly, she believed that her brother's soul suffered, +because she had been too weak to fulfil her oath.</p> + +<p>The Church had not come to her rescue. The ministers of her religion +were scattered to the four corners of besieged, agonising France. She +had no one to help her, no one to comfort her. That very peaceful, +contemplative life she had led in the convent, only served to enhance +her feeling of the solemnity of her mission.</p> + +<p>It was true, it was inevitable, because it was so hard.</p> + +<p>To the few who, throughout those troublous times, had kept a feeling +of veneration for their religion, this religion had become one of +abnegation and martyrdom.</p> + +<p>A spirit of uncompromising Jansenism seemed to call forth sacrifices +and renunciation, whereas the happy-go-lucky Catholicism of the past +century had only suggested an easy, flowered path, to a comfortable, +well-upholstered heaven.</p> + +<p>The harder the task seemed which was set before her, the more real it +became to Juliette. God, she firmly believed, had at last, after ten +years, shown her the way to wreak vengeance upon her brother's +murderer. He had brought her to this house, caused her to see and hear +part of the conversation between Blakeney and Déroulède, and this at +the moment of all others, when even the semblance of a conspiracy +against the Republic would bring the one inevitable result in its +train: disgrace first, the hasty mock trial, the hall of justice, and +the guillotine.</p> + +<p>She tried not to hate Déroulède. She wished to judge him coldly and +impartially, or rather to indict him before the throne of God, and to +punish him for the crime he had committed ten years ago. Her personal +feelings must remain out of the question.</p> + +<p>Had Charlotte Corday considered her own sensibilities, when with her +own hand she put an end to Marat?</p> + +<p>Juliette remained on her knees for hours. She heard Anne Mie come +home, and Déroulède's voice of welcome on the landing. This was +perhaps the most bitter moment of this awful soul conflict, for it +brought to her mind the remembrance of those others who would suffer +too, and who were innocent—Madame Déroulède and poor, crippled Anne +Mie. They had done no wrong, and yet how heavily would they be +punished!</p> + +<p>And then the saner judgment, the human, material code of ethics gained +for a while the upper hand. Juliette would rise from her knees, dry +her eyes, prepare quietly to go to bed, and to forget all about the +awful, relentless Fate which dragged her to the fulfilment of its +will, and then sink back, broken-hearted, murmuring impassioned +prayers for forgiveness to her father, her brother, her God.</p> + +<p>The soul was young and ardent, and it fought for abnegation, +martyrdom, and stern duty; the body was childlike, and it fought for +peace, contentment, and quiet reason.</p> + +<p>The rational body was conquered by the passionate, powerful soul.</p> + +<p>Blame not the child, for in herself she was innocent. She was but +another of the many victims of this cruel, mad, hysterical time, that +spirit of relentless tyranny, forcing its doctrines upon the weak.</p> + +<p>With the first break of dawn Juliette at last finally rose from her +knees, bathed her burning eyes and head, tidied her hair and dress, +then she sat down at the table, and began to write.</p> + +<p>She was a transformed being now, no longer a child, essentially a +woman—a Joan of Arc with a mission, a Charlotte Corday going to +martyrdom, a human, suffering, erring soul, committing a great crime +for the sake of an idea.</p> + +<p>She wrote out carefully and with a steady hand the denunciation of +Citizen-Deputy Déroulède which has become an historical document, and +is preserved in the chronicles of France.</p> + +<p>You have all seen it at the Musée Carnavalet in its glass case, its +yellow paper and faded ink revealing nothing of the soul conflict of +which it was the culminating victory. The cramped, somewhat +schoolgirlish writing is the mute, pathetic witness of one of the +saddest tragedies, that era of sorrow and crime has ever known:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>To the Representatives of the People now sitting in Assembly at +the National Convention</i> </p> + +<p>You trust and believe in the Representative of the people: +Citizen-Deputy Paul Déroulède. He is false, and a traitor to the +Republic. He is planning, and hopes to effect, the release of +ci-devant Marie Antoinette, widow of the traitor Louis Capet. Haste! +ye representatives of the people! proofs of his assertion, papers +and plans, are still in the house of the Citizen-Deputy Déroulède. +This statement is made by one who knows.</p> + +<p><i>I. The 23rd Fructidor.</i> </p></div> + +<p>When her letter was written she read it through carefully, made the +one or two little corrections, which are still visible in the +document, then folded her missive, hid it within the folds of her +kerchief, and, wrapping a dark cloak and hood round her, she slipped +noiselessly out of her room.</p> + +<p>The house was all quiet and still. She shuddered a little as the cool +morning air fanned her hot cheeks: it seemed like the breath of +ghosts.</p> + +<p>She ran quickly down the stairs, and as rapidly as she could, pushed +back the heavy bolts of the front door, and slipped out into the +street.</p> + +<p>Already the city was beginning to stir. There was no time for sleep, +when so much had to be done for the safety of the threatened Republic. +As Juliette turned her steps towards the river, she met the crowd of +workmen, whom France was employing for her defence.</p> + +<p>Behind her, in the Luxembourg Gardens, and all along the opposite bank +of the river, the furnaces were already ablaze, and the smiths at work +forging the guns.</p> + +<p>At every step now Juliette came across the great placards, pinned to +the tall gallows-shaped posts, which proclaim to every passing citizen, +that the people of France are up and in arms.</p> + +<p>Right across the Place de l'Institut a procession of market carts, +laden with vegetables and a little fruit, wends its way slowly towards +the centre of the town. They each carry tiny tricolour flags, with a +Pike and Cap of Liberty surmounting the flagstaff.</p> + +<p>They are good patriots the market-gardeners, who come in daily to feed +the starving mob of Paris, with the few handfuls of watery potatoes, +and miserable, vermin-eaten cabbages, which that fraternal Revolution +still allows them to grow without hindrance.</p> + +<p>Everyone seems busy with their work this early in the morning: the +business of killing does not begin until later in the day.</p> + +<p>For the moment Juliette can get along quite unmolested: the women and +children mostly hurrying on towards the vast encampments in the +Tuileries, where lint, and bandages, and coats for the soldiers are +manufactured all the day.</p> + +<p>The walls of all the houses bear the great patriotic device: "<i>Liberté, +Egalité, Fraternité, sinon La Mort</i> "; others are more political in +their proclamation: "<i>La République une et indivisible</i> ."</p> + +<p>But on the walls of the Louvre, of the great palace of whilom kings, +where the Roi Soleil held his Court, and flirted with the prettiest +women in France, there the new and great Republic has affixed its +final mandate.</p> + +<p>A great poster glued to the wall bears the words: "<i>La Loi concernan +les Suspects</i> ." Below the poster is a huge wooden box with a slit at +the top.</p> + +<p>This is the latest invention for securing the safety of this one and +indivisible Republic.</p> + +<p>Henceforth everyone becomes a traitor at one word of denunciation from +an idler or an enemy, and, as in the most tyrannical days of the +Spanish Inquisition one-half of the nation was set to spy upon the +other, that wooden box, with its slit, is put there ready to receive +denunciations from one hand against another.</p> + +<p>Had Juliette paused but for the fraction of a second, had she stopped +to read the placard setting forth this odious law, had she only +reflected, then she would even now have turned back, and fled from +that gruesome box of infamies, as she would from a dangerous and +noisome reptile or from the pestilence.</p> + +<p>But her long vigil, her prayers, her ecstatic visions of heroic +martyrs had now completely numbed her faculties. Her vitality, her +sensibilities were gone: she had become an automaton gliding to her +doom, without a thought or a tremor.</p> + +<p>She drew the letter from her bosom, and with a steady hand dropped it +into the box. The irreclaimable had now occurred. Nothing she could +henceforth say or do, no prayers or agonised vigils, no miracles even, +could undo her action or save Paul Déroulède from trial and +guillotine.</p> + +<p>One or two groups of people hurrying to their work had seen her drop +the letter into the box. A couple of small children paused, finger in +mouth, gazing at her with inane curiosity; one woman uttered a coarse +jest, all of them shrugged their shoulders, and passed on, on their +way. Those who habitually crossed this spot were used to such sights.</p> + +<p>That wooden box, with its mouthlike slit was like an insatiable +monster that was constantly fed, yet was still gaping for more.</p> + +<p>Having done the deed Juliette turned, and as rapidly as she had come, +so she went back to her temporary home.</p> + +<p>A home no more now; she must leave it at once, to-day if possible. +This much she knew, that she no longer could touch the bread of the +man she had betrayed. She would not appear at breakfast, she could +plead a headache, and in the afternoon Pétronelle should pack her +things.</p> + +<p>She turned into a little shop close by, and asked for a glass of milk +and a bit of bread. The woman who served her eyed her with some +curiosity, for Juliette just now looked almost out of her mind.</p> + +<p>She had not yet begun to think, and she had ceased to suffer.</p> + +<p>Both would come presently, and with them the memory of this last +irretrievable hour and a just estimate of what she had done.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><br /> +"Vengeance is mine."</h3> + + +<p>The pretence of a headache enabled Juliette to keep in her room the +greater part of the day. She would have liked to shut herself out from +the entire world during those hours which she spent face to face with +her own thoughts and her own sufferings.</p> + +<p>The sight of Anne Mie's pathetic little face as she brought her food +and delicacies and various little comforts, was positive torture to +the poor, harrowed soul.</p> + +<p>At every sound in the great, silent house she started up, quivering +with apprehension and horror. Had the sword of Damocles, which she +herself had suspended, already fallen over the heads of those who had +shown her nothing but kindness?</p> + +<p>She could not think of Madame Déroulède or of Anne Mie without the +most agonising, the most torturing shame.</p> + +<p>And what of him—the man she had so remorselessly, so ruthlessly +betrayed to a tribunal which would know no mercy?</p> + +<p>Juliette dared not think of him.</p> + +<p>She had never tried to analyse her feelings with regard to him. At +the time of Charlotte Corday's trial, when his sonorous voice rang out +in its pathetic appeal for the misguided woman, Juliette had given him +ungrudging admiration. She remembered now how strongly his magnetic +personality had roused in her a feeling of enthusiasm for the poor +girl, who had come from the depths of her quiet provincial home, in +order to accomplish the horrible deed which would immortalise her name +through all the ages to come, and cause her countrymen to proclaim her +"greater than Brutus."</p> + +<p>Déroulède was pleading for the life of that woman, and it was his very +appeal which had aroused Juliette's dormant energy, for the cause +which her dead father had enjoined her not to forget. It was Déroulède +again whom she had seen but a few weeks ago, standing alone before the +mob who would have torn her to pieces, haranguing them on her behalf, +speaking to them with that quiet, strong voice of his, ruling them +with the rule of love and pity, and turning their wrath to gentleness.</p> + +<p>Did she hate him, then?</p> + +<p>Surely, surely she hated him for having thrust himself into her life, +for having caused her brother's death and covered her father's +declining years with sorrow. And, above all, she hated him—indeed, +indeed it was hate!—for being the cause of this most hideous action +of her life: an action to which she had been driven against her will, +one of basest ingratitude and treachery, foreign to every sentiment +within her heart, cowardly, abject, the unconscious outcome of this +strange magnetism which emanated from him and had cast a spell over +her, transforming her individuality and will power, and making of her +an unconscious and automatic instrument of Fate.</p> + +<p>She would not speak of God's finger again: it was Fate—pagan, +devilish Fate!—the weird, shrivelled women who sit and spin their +interminable thread. They had decreed; and Juliette, unable to fight, +blind and broken by the conflict, had succumbed to the Megaeras and +their relentless wheel.</p> + +<p>At length silence and loneliness became unendurable. She called +Pétronelle, and ordered her to pack her boxes.</p> + +<p>"We leave for England to-day", she said curtly.</p> + +<p>"For England?" gasped the worthy old soul, who was feeling very happy +and comfortable in this hospitable house, and was loth to leave it. +"So soon?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes; we had talked of it for some time. We cannot remain here +always. My cousins De Crécy are there, and my aunt De Coudremont. We +shall be among friends, Pétronelle, if we ever get there."</p> + +<p>"If we ever get there!" sighed poor Pétronelle; "we have but very +little money, <i>ma chérie,</i> and no passports. Have you thought of +asking M. Déroulède for them?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," rejoined Juliette hastily; "I'll see to the passports +somehow, Pétronelle. Sir Percy Blakeney is English; he'll tell me what +to do."</p> + +<p>"Do you know where he lives, my jewel?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I heard him tell Madame Déroulède last night that he was lodging +with a provincial named Brogard at the Sign of the Cruche Cassée. I'll +go seek him, Pétronelle; I am sure he will help me. The English are so +resourceful and practical. He'll get us our passports, I know, and +advise us as to the best way to proceed. Do you stay here and get all +our things ready. I'll not be long."</p> + +<p>She took up a cloak and hood, and, throwing them over her arm, she +slipped out of the room.</p> + +<p>Déroulède had left the house earlier in the day. She hoped that he +had not yet returned, and ran down the stairs quickly, so that she +might go out unperceived.</p> + +<p>The house was quite peaceful and still. It seemed strange to Juliette +that there did not hang over it some sort of pall-like presentiment of +coming evil.</p> + +<p>From the kitchen, at some little distance from the hall, Anne Mie's +voice was heard singing an old ditty:</p> + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">"De ta tige détachée</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> Pauvre feuille désséchée</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> Où vas-tu?"</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Juliette paused a moment. An awful ache had seized her heart; her +eyes unconsciously filled with tears, as they roamed round the walls +of this house which had sheltered her so hospitably, these three weeks +past.</p> + +<p>And now whither was she going? Like the poor, dead leaf of the song, +she was wastrel, torn from the parent bough, homeless, friendless, +having turned against the one hand which, in this great time of peril, +had been extended to her in kindness and in love.</p> + +<p>Conscience was beginning to rise up against her, and that hydra-headed +tyrant Remorse. She closed her eyes to shut out the hideous vision of +her crime; she tried to forget this home which her treachery had +desecrated.</p> + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">"Je vais où va toute chose</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> Où va la feuille de rose</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> Et la feuille de laurier,"</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="nind">sang Anne Mie plaintively.</p> + +<p>A great sob broke from Juliette's aching heart. The misery of it all +was more than she could bear. Ah, pity her if you can! She had fought +and striven, and been conquered. A girl's soul is so young, so +impressionable; and she had grown up with that one, awful, +all-pervading idea of duty to accomplish, a most solemn oath to +fulfil, one sworn to her dying father, and on the dead body of her +brother. She had begged for guidance, prayed for release, and the +voice from above had remained silent. Weak, miserable, cringing, the +human soul, when torn with earthly passion, must look at its own +strength for the fight.</p> + +<p>And now the end had come. That swift, scarce tangible dream of peace, +which had flitted through her mind during the past few weeks, had +vanished with the dawn, and she was left desolate, alone with her +great sin and its lifelong expiation.</p> + +<p>Scarce knowing what she did, she fell on her knees, there on that +threshold, which she was about to leave for ever. Fate had placed on +her young shoulders a burden too heavy for her to bear.</p> + +<p>"Juliette!"</p> + +<p>At first she did not move. It was his voice coming from the study +behind her. Its magic thrilled her, as it had done that day in the +Hall of Justice. Strong, passionate, tender, it seemed now to raise +every echo of response in her heart. She thought it was a dream, and +remained there on her knees lest it should be dispelled.</p> + +<p>Then she heard his footsteps on the flagstones of the hall. Anne +Mie's plaintive singing had died away in the distance. She started, +and jumped to her feet, hastily drying her eyes. The momentary dream +was dispelled, and she was ashamed of her weakness.</p> + +<p>He, the cause of all her sorrows, of her sin, and of her degradation, +had no right to see her suffer.</p> + +<p>She would have fled out of the house now, but it was too late. He had +come out of his study, and, seeing her there on her knees weeping, he +came quickly forward, trying, with all the innate chivalry of his +upright nature, not to let her see that he had been a witness to her +tears.</p> + +<p>"You are going out, mademoiselle?" he said courteously, as, wrapping +her cloak around her, she was turning towards the door.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," she replied hastily; "a small errand, I ..."</p> + +<p>"Is it anything I can do for you?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"If ..." he added, with visible embarrassment, "if your errand would +brook a delay, might I crave the honour of your presence in my study +for a few moments?"</p> + +<p>"My errand brooks of no delay, Citizen Déroulède," she said as +composedly as she could, "and perhaps on my return I might ..."</p> + +<p>"I am leaving almost directly, mademoiselle, and I would wish to bid +you good-bye."</p> + +<p>He stood aside to allow her to pass, either out, through the street +door or across the hall to his study.</p> + +<p>There had been no reproach in his voice towards the guest, who was +thus leaving him without a word of farewell. Perhaps if there had been +any, Juliette would have rebelled. As it was, an unconquerable +magnetism seemed to draw her towards him, and, making an almost +imperceptible sign of acquiescence, she glided past him into his room.</p> + +<p>The study was dark and cool; for the room faced the west, and the +shutters had been closed, in order to keep out the hot August sun. At +first Juliette could see nothing, but she felt his presence near her, +as he followed her into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.</p> + +<p>"It is kind of you, mademoiselle," he said gently, "to accede to my +request, which was perhaps presumptuous. But, you see, I am leaving +this house to-day, and I had a selfish longing to hear your voice +bidding me farewell."</p> + +<p>Juliette's large, burning eyes were gradually piercing the semi-gloom +around her. She could see him distinctly now, standing close beside +her, in an attitude of the deepest, almost reverential respect.</p> + +<p>The study was as usual neat and tidy, denoting the orderly habits of a +man of action and energy. On the ground there was a valise, ready +strapped as if for a journey, and on the top of it a bulky letter-case +of stout pigskin, secured with a small steel lock. Juliette's eyes +fastened upon this case with a look of fascination and of horror. +Obviously it contained Déroulède's papers, the plans for Marie +Antoinette's escape, the passports of which he had spoken the day +before to his friend, Sir Percy Blakeney—the proofs, in fact, which +she had offered to the representatives of the people, in support of +her denunciation of the Citizen-Deputy.</p> + +<p>After his request he had said nothing more. He was waiting for her to +speak; but her voice felt parched; it seemed to her as if hands of +steel were gripping her throat, smothering the words she would have +longed to speak.</p> + +<p>"Will you not wish me godspeed, mademoiselle?" he repeated gently.</p> + +<p>"Godspeed?" Oh! the awful irony of it all! Should God speed him to a +mock trial and to the guillotine? He was going thither, though he did +not know it, and was even now trying to take the hand which had +deliberately sent him there.</p> + +<p>At last she made an effort to speak, and in a toneless, even voice she +contrived to murmur:</p> + +<p>"You are not going for long, Citizen-Deputy?"</p> + +<p>"In these times, mademoiselle," he replied, "any farewell might be for +ever. But I am actually going for a month to the Conciergerie, to take +charge of the unfortunate prisoner there."</p> + +<p>"For a month!" she repeated mechanically.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" he said, with a smile. "You see, our present Government is +afraid that poor Marie Antoinette will exercise her fascinations over +any lieutenant-governor of her prison, if he remain near her long +enough, so a new one is appointed every month. I shall be in charge +during this coming Vendémiaire. I shall hope to return before the +equinox, but—who can tell?"</p> + +<p>"In any case then, Citoyen Déroulède, the farewell I bid you to-night +will be a very long one."</p> + +<p>"A month will seem a century to me," he said earnestly, "since I must +spend it without seeing you, but ..."</p> + +<p>He looked long and searchingly at her. He did not understand her in +her present mood, so scared and wild did she seem, so unlike that +girlish, light-hearted self, which had made the dull old house so +bright these past few weeks.</p> + +<p>"But I should not dare to hope," he murmured, "that a similar reason +would cause you to call that month a long one."</p> + +<p>She turned perhaps a trifle paler than she had been hitherto, and her +eyes roamed round the room like those of a trapped hare seeking to +escape.</p> + +<p>"You misunderstand me, Citoyen Déroulède," she said at last hurriedly. +"You have all been kind—very kind—but Pétronelle and I can no +longer trespass on your hospitality. We have friends in England, and +many enemies here ..."</p> + +<p>"I know," he interrupted quietly; "it would be the most arrant +selfishness on my part to suggest, that you should stay here an hour +longer than necessary. I fear that after to-day my roof may no longer +prove a sheltering one for you. But will you allow me to arrange for +your safety, as I am arranging for that of my mother and Anne Mie? My +English friend Sir Percy Blakeney, has a yacht in readiness off the +Normandy coast. I have already seen to your passports and to all the +arrangements of your journey as far as there, and Sir Percy, or one of +his friends, will see you safely on board the English yacht. He has +given me his promise that he will do this, and I trust him as I would +myself. For the journey through France, my name is a sufficient +guarantee that you will be unmolested; and if you will allow it, my +mother and Anne Mie will travel in your company. Then ..."</p> + +<p>"I pray you stop, Citizen Déroulède," she suddenly interrupted +excitedly. "You must forgive me, but I cannot allow thus to make any +arrangements for me. Pétronelle and I must do as best we can. All your +time and trouble should be spent for the benefit of those who have a +claim upon you, whilst I ..."</p> + +<p>"You speak unkindly, mademoiselle; there is no question of claim."</p> + +<p>"And you have no right to think ..." she continued, with a growing, +nervous excitement, drawing her hand hurriedly away, for he had tried +to seize it.</p> + +<p>"Ah! pardon me," he interrupted earnestly, "there you are wrong. I +have the right to think of you and for you—the inalienable right +conferred upon me by my great love for you."</p> + +<p>"Citizen-Deputy!"</p> + +<p>"Nay, Juliette; I know my folly, and I know my presumption. I know +the pride of your caste and of your party, and how much you despise +the partisan of the squalid mob of France. Have I said that I aspired +to gain your love? I wonder if I have ever dreamed it? I only know, +Juliette, that you are to me something akin to the angels, something +white and ethereal, intangible, and perhaps ununderstandable. Yet, +knowing my folly, I glory in it, my dear, and I would not let you go +out of my life without telling you of that, which has made every hour +of the past few weeks a paradise for me—my love for you, Juliette."</p> + +<p>He spoke in that low, impressive voice of his, and with those soft, +appealing tones with which she had once heard him pleading for poor +Charlotte Corday. Yet now he was not pleading for himself, not for his +selfish wish or for his own happiness, only pleading for his love, +that she should know of it, and, knowing it, have pity in her heart +for him, and let him serve her to the end.</p> + +<p>He did not say anything more for a while; he had taken her hand, which +she no longer withdrew from him, for there was sweet pleasure in +feeling his strong fingers close tremblingly over hers. He pressed his +lips upon her hand, upon the soft palm and delicate wrist, his burning +kisses bearing witness to the tumultuous passion, which his reverence +for her was holding in check.</p> + +<p>She tried to tear herself away from him, but he would not let her go:</p> + +<p>"Do not go away just yet, Juliette," he pleaded. "Think! I may never +see you again; but when you are far from me—in England, perhaps— +amongst your own kith and kin, will you try sometimes to think kindly +of one who so wildly, so madly worships you?"</p> + +<p>She would have stilled, an she could, the beating of her heart, which +went out to him at last with all the passionate intensity of her +great, pent-up love. Every word he spoke had its echo within her very +soul, and she tried not to hear his tender appeal, not to see his dark +head bending in worship before her. She tried to forget his presence, +not to know that he was there—he, the man whom she had betrayed to +serve her own miserable vengeance, whom in her mad, exalted rage she +had thought that she hated, but whom she now knew that she loved +better than her life, better than her soul, her traditions, or her +oath.</p> + +<p>Now, at this moment, she made every effort to conjure up the vision of +her brother brought home dead upon a stretcher, of her father's +declining years, rendered hideous by the mind unhinged through the +great sorrow.</p> + +<p>She tried to think of the avenging finger of God pointing the way to +the fulfilment of her oath, and called to Him to stand by her in this +terrible agony of her soul.</p> + +<p>And God spoke to her at last; through the eternal vistas of boundless +universe, from that heaven which had known no pity, His voice came to +her now, clear, awesome, and implacable:</p> + +<p>"Vengeance is mine! I will repay!"</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /><br /> +The sword of Damocles.</h3> + + +<p>"In the name of the Republic!"</p> + +<p>Absorbed in his thoughts, his dreams, his present happiness, Déroulède +had heard nothing of what was going on in the house, during the past +few seconds.</p> + +<p>At first, to Anne Mie, who was still singing her melancholy ditty over +her work in the kitchen, there had seemed nothing unusual in the +peremptory ring at the front-door bell. She pulled down her sleeves +over her thin arms, smoothed down her cooking apron, then only did she +run to see who the visitor might be.</p> + +<p>As soon as she had opened the door, however, she understood.</p> + +<p>Five men were standing before her, four of whom wore the uniform of +the National Guard, and the fifth, the tricolour scarf fringed with +gold, which denoted service under the Convention.</p> + +<p>This man seemed to be in command of the others, and he immediately +stepped into the hall, followed by his four companions, who at a sign +from him, effectively cut off Anne Mie from what had been her imminent +purpose—namely, to run to the study and warn Déroulède of his +danger.</p> + +<p>That it was danger of the most certain, the most deadly kind she never +doubted for one moment. Even had her instinct not warned her, she +would have guessed. One glance at the five men had sufficed to tell +her: their attitude, their curt word of command, their air of +authority as they crossed the hall—everything revealed the purpose +of their visit: a domiciliary search in the house of Citizen-Deputy +Déroulède.</p> + +<p>Merlin's Law of the Suspect was in full operation. Someone had +denounced the Citizen-Deputy to the Committee of Public Safety; and in +this year of grace, 1793, and I. of the Revolution, men and women were +daily sent to the guillotine on suspicion.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie would have screamed, had she dared, but instinct such as hers +was far too keen, to betray her into so injudicious an act. She felt +that, were Paul Déroulède's eyes upon her at this moment, he would +wish her to remain calm and outwardly serene.</p> + +<p>The foremost man—he with the tricolour scarf—had already crossed +the hall, and was standing outside the study door. It was his word of +command which first roused Déroulède from his dream:</p> + +<p>"In the name of the Republic!"</p> + +<p>Déroulède did not immediately drop the small hand, which a moment ago +he had been covering with kisses. He held it to his lips once more, +very gently, lingering over this last fond caress, as if over an +eternal farewell, then he straightened out his broad, well-knit +figure, and turned to the door.</p> + +<p>He was very pale, but there was neither fear nor even surprise +expressed in his earnest, deep-set eyes. They still seemed to be +looking afar, gazing upon a heaven-born vision, which the touch of her +hand and the avowal of his love had conjured up before him.</p> + +<p>"In the name of the Republic!"</p> + +<p>Once more, for the third time—according to custom—the words rang +out, clear, distinct, peremptory.</p> + +<p>In that one fraction of a second, whilst those six words were spoken, +Déroulède's eyes wandered swiftly towards the heavy letter-case, which +now held his condemnation, and a wild, mad thought—the mere animal +desire to escape from danger—surged up in his brain.</p> + +<p>The plans for the escape of Marie Antoinette, the various passports, +worded in accordance with the possible disguises the unfortunate Queen +might assume—all these papers were more than sufficient proof of +what would be termed his treason against the Republic.</p> + +<p>He could already hear the indictment against him, could see the filthy +mob of Paris dancing a wild saraband round the tumbril, which bore +him towards the guillotine; he could hear their yells of execration, +could feel the insults hurled against him, by those who had most +admired, most envied him. And from all this he would have escaped if +he could, if it had not been too late.</p> + +<p>It was but a second, or less, whilst the words were spoken outside his +door, and whilst all other thoughts in him were absorbed in this one +mad desire for escape. He even made a movement, as if to snatch up the +letter-case and to hide it about his person. But it was heavy and +bulky; it would be sure to attract attention, and might bring upon him +the additional indignity of being forced to submit to a personal +search.</p> + +<p>He caught Juliette's eyes fixed upon him with an intensity of gaze +which, in that same one mad moment, revealed to him the depths of her +love. Then the second's weakness was gone; he was once more quiet, +firm, the man of action, accustomed to meet danger boldly, to rule and +to subdue the most turgid mob.</p> + +<p>With a quiet shrug of the shoulders, he dismissed all thought of the +compromising lettercase, and went to the door.</p> + +<p>Already, as no reply had come to the third word of command, it had +been thrown open from outside, and Déroulède found himself face to +face with the five men.</p> + +<p>"Citizen Merlin!" he said quietly, as he recognised the foremost among +them.</p> + +<p>"Himself, Citizen-Deputy," rejoined the latter, with a sneer, "at your +service."</p> + +<p>Anne Mie, in a remote corner of the hall, had heard the name, and felt +her very soul sicken at its sound.</p> + +<p>Merlin! Author of that infamous Law of the Suspect which had set man +against man, a father against his son, brother against brother, and +friend against friend, had made of every human creature a bloodhound +on the track of his fellowmen, dogging in order not to be dogged, +denouncing, spying, hounding, in order not to be denounced.</p> + +<p>And he, Merlin, gloried in this, the most fiendishly evil law ever +perpetrated for the degradation of the human race.</p> + +<p>There is that sketch of him in the Musée Carnavalet, drawn just before +he, in his turn, went to expiate his crimes on that very guillotine, +which he had sharpened and wielded so powerfully against his fellows. +The artist has well caught the slouchy, slovenly look of his loosely +knit figure, his long limbs and narrow head, with the snakelike eyes +and slightly receding chin. Like Marat, his model and prototype, +Merlin affected dirty, ragged clothes. The real Sanscullottism, the +downward levelling of his fellowmen to the lowest rung of the social +ladder, pervaded every action of this noted product of the great +Revolution.</p> + +<p>Even Déroulède, whose entire soul was filled with a great, +all-understanding pity for the weaknesses of mankind, recoiled at +sight of this incarnation of the spirit of squalor and degradation, of +all that was left of the noble Utopian theories of the makers of the +Revolution.</p> + +<p>Merlin grinned when he saw Déroulède standing there, calm, impassive, +well dressed, as if prepared to receive an honoured guest, rather than +a summons to submit to the greatest indignity a proud man has ever +been called upon to suffer.</p> + +<p>Merlin had always hated the popular Citizen-Deputy. Friend and +boon-companion of Marat and his gang, he had for over two years now +exerted all the influence he possessed in order to bring Déroulède +under a cloud of suspicion.</p> + +<p>But Déroulède had the ear of the populace. No one understood as he +did the tone of a Paris mob; and the National Convention, ever +terrified of the volcano it had kindled, felt that a popular member of +its assembly was more useful alive than dead.</p> + +<p>But now at last Merlin was having his way. An anonymous denunciation +against Déroulède had reached the Public Prosecutor that day. Tinville +and Merlin were the fastest of friends, so the latter easily obtained +the privilege of being the first to proclaim to his hated enemy, the +news of his downfall.</p> + +<p>He stood facing Déroulède for a moment, enjoying the present situation +to its full. The light from the vast hall struck full upon the +powerful figure of the Citizen-Deputy and upon his firm, dark face and +magnetic, restless eyes. Behind him the study, with its closely-drawn +shutters, appeared wrapped in gloom.</p> + +<p>Merlin turned to his men, and, still delighted with his position of a +cat playing with a mouse, he pointed to Déroulède, with a smile and a +shrug of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"<i>Voyez-moi donc çà ,</i> " he said, with a coarse jest, and expectorating +contemptuously upon the floor, "the aristocrat seems not to understand +that we are here in the name of the Republic. There is a very good +proverb, Citizen-Deputy," he added, once more addressing Déroulède, +"which you seem to have forgotten, and that is that the pitcher which +goes too often to the well breaks at last. You have conspired against +the liberties of the people for the past ten years. Retribution has +come to you at last; the people of France have come to their senses. +The National Convention wants to know what treason you are hatching +between these four walls, and it has deputed me to find out all there +is to know."</p> + +<p>"At your service, Citizen-Deputy!" said Déroulède, quietly stepping +aside, in order to make way for Merlin and his men.</p> + +<p>Resistance was useless, and, like all strong, determined natures, he +knew when it was best to give in.</p> + +<p>During this while, Juliette had neither moved nor uttered a sound. +Little more than a minute had elapsed since the moment when the first +peremptory order, to open in the name of the Republic, had sounded +like the tocsin through the stillness of the house. Déroulède's kisses +were still hot upon her hand, his words of love were still ringing in +her ears.</p> + +<p>And now this awful, deadly peril, which she with her own hand had +brought on the man she loved!</p> + +<p>If in one moment's anguish the soul be allowed to expiate a lifelong +sin, then indeed did Juliette atone during this one terrible second.</p> + +<p>Her conscience, her heart, her entire being rose in revolt against her +crime. Her oath, her life, her final denunciation appeared before her +in all their hideousness.</p> + +<p>And now it was too late.</p> + +<p>Déroulède stood facing Merlin, his most implacable enemy. The latter +was giving orders to his men, preparatory to searching the house, and +there, just on the top of the valise, lay the letter-case, obviously +containing those papers, to which the day before she had overheard +Déroulède making allusion, whilst he spoke to his friend, Sir Percy +Blakeney.</p> + +<p>An unexplainable instinct seemed to tell her that the papers were in +that case. Her eyes were riveted on it, as if fascinated. An awful +terror held her enthralled for one second more, whilst her thoughts, +her longings, her desires were all centred on the safety of that one +thing.</p> + +<p>The next instant she had seized it and thrown it upon the sofa. Then +seating herself beside it, with the gesture of a queen and the grace +of a Parisienne, she had spread the ample folds of her skirts over the +compromising case, hiding it entirely from view.</p> + +<p>Merlin in the hall was ordering two men to stand one on each side of +Déroulède, and two more to follow him into the room. Now he entered it +himself, his narrow eyes trying to pierce the semi-obscurity, which +was rendered more palpable by the brilliant light in the hall.</p> + +<p>He had not seen Juliette's gesture, but he had heard the <i>frou-frou</i> +of her skirts, as she seated herself upon the sofa.</p> + +<p>"You are not alone Citizen-Deputy, I see," he said, with a sneer, as +his snakelike eyes lighted upon the young girl.</p> + +<p>"My guest, Citizen Merlin," replied Déroulède as calmly as he could— +"Citizen Juliette Marny. I know that it is useless, under these +circumstances, to ask for consideration for a woman, but I pray you to +remember, as far as is possible, that although we are all Republicans, +we are also Frenchmen, and all still equal in our sentiment of +chivalry towards our mothers, our sisters, or our guests."</p> + +<p>Merlin chuckled, and gazed for a moment ironically at Juliette. He +had held, between his talon-like fingers, that very morning, a thin +scrap of paper, on which a schoolgirlish hand had scrawled the +denunciation against Citizen-Deputy Déroulède.</p> + +<p>Coarse in nature, and still coarser in thoughts, this representative +of the people had very quickly arrived at a conclusion in his mind, +with regard to this so-called guest in the Déroulède household.</p> + +<p>"A discarded mistress," he muttered to himself. "Just had another +scene, I suppose. He's got tired of her, and she's given him away out +of spite."</p> + +<p>Satisfied with this explanation of the situation, he was quite +inclined to be amiable to Juliette. Moreover, he had caught sight of +the valise, and almost thought that the young girl's eyes had directed +his attention towards it.</p> + +<p>"Open those shutters!" he commanded, "this place is like a vault."</p> + +<p>One of the men obeyed immediately, and as the brilliant August sun came +streaming into the room, Merlin once more turned to Déroulède.</p> + +<p>"Information has been laid against you, Citizen-Deputy," he said, "by +an anonymous writer, who states that you have just now in your +possession correspondence or other papers intended for the Widow +Capet: and the Committee of Public Safety has entrusted me and these +citizens to seize such correspondence, and make you answerable for its +presence in your house."</p> + +<p>Déroulède hesitated for one brief fraction of a second. As soon as +the shutters had been opened, and the room flooded in daylight, he had +at once perceived that his letter-case had disappeared, and guessed, +from Juliette's attitude upon the sofa, that she had concealed it +about her person. It was this which caused him to hesitate.</p> + +<p>His heart was filled with boundless gratitude to her for her noble +effort to save him, but he would have given his life at this moment, +to undo what she had done.</p> + +<p>The Terrorists were no respecters of persons or of sex. A domicillary +search order, in those days, conferred full powers on those in +authority, and Juliette might at any moment now be peremptorily +ordered to rise. Through her action she had made herself one with the +Citizen-Deputy; if the case were found under the folds of her skirts, +she would be accused of connivance, or at any rate of the equally +grave charge of shielding a traitor.</p> + +<p>The manly pride in him rebelled at the thought of owing his immediate +safety to a woman, yet he could not now discard her help, without +compromising her irretrievably.</p> + +<p>He dared not even to look again towards her, for he felt that at this +moment her life as well as his own lay in the quiver of an eyelid; and +Merlin's keen, narrow eyes were fixed upon him in eager search for a +tremor, a flash, which might betray fear or prove an admission of +guilt.</p> + +<p>Juliette sat there, calm, impassive, disdainful, and she seemed to +Déroulède more angelic, more unattainable even than before. He could +have worshipped her for her heroism, her resourcefulness, her quiet +aloofness from all these coarse creatures who filled the room with the +odour of their dirty clothes, with their rough jests, and their +noisome suggestions.</p> + +<p>"Well, Citizen-Deputy," sneered Merlin after a while, "you do not +reply, I notice."</p> + +<p>"The insinuation is unworthy of a reply, citizen," replied Déroulède +quietly; "my services to the Republic are well known. I should have +thought that the Committee of Public Safety would disdain an anonymous +denunciation against a faithful servant of the people of France."</p> + +<p>"The Committee of Public Safety knows its own business best, +Citizen-Deputy," rejoined Merlin roughly. "If the accusation prove a +calumny, so much the better for you. I presume," he added with a +sneer, "that you do not propose to offer any resistance whilst these +citizens and I search your house."</p> + +<p>Without another word Déroulède handed a bunch of keys to the man by +his side. Every kind of opposition, argument even, would be worse than +useless.</p> + +<p>Merlin had ordered the valise and desk to be searched, and two men +were busy turning out the contents of both on to the floor. But the +desk now only contained a few private household accounts, and notes +for the various speeches which Déroulède had at various times +delivered in the assemblies of the National Convention. Among these, a +few pencil jottings for his great defence of Charlotte Corday were +eagerly seized upon by Merlin, and his grimy, clawlike hands fastened +upon this scrap of paper, as upon a welcome prey.</p> + +<p>But there was nothing else of any importance. Déroulède was a man of +thought and of action, with all the enthusiasm of real conviction, but +none of the carelessness of a fanatic. The papers which were contained +in the letter-case, and which he was taking with him to the +Conciergerie, he considered were necessary to the success of his +plans, otherwise he never would have kept them, and they were the only +proofs that could be brought up against him.</p> + +<p>The valise itself was only packed with the few necessaries for a +month's sojourn at the Conciergerie; and the men, under Merlin's +guidance, were vainly trying to find something, anything that might be +construed into treasonable correspondence with the unfortunate +prisoner there.</p> + +<p>Merlin, whilst his men were busy with the search, was sprawling in one +of the big leather-covered chairs, on the arms of which his dirty +finger-nails were beating an impatient devil's tattoo. He was at no +pains to conceal the intense disappointment which he would experience, +were his errand to prove fruitless.</p> + +<p>His narrow eyes every now and then wandered towards Juliette, as if +asking for her help and guidance. She, understanding his frame of +mind, responded to the look. Shutting her mentality off from the +coarse suggestion of his attitude towards her, she played her part +with cunning, and without flinching. With a glance here and there, she +directed the men in their search. Déroulède himself could scarcely +refrain from looking at her; he was puzzled, and vaguely marvelled at +the perfection, with which she carried through her rôle to the end.</p> + +<p>Merlin found himself baffled.</p> + +<p>He knew quite well that Citizen-Deputy Déroulède was not a man to be +lightly dealt with. No mere suspicion or anonymous denunciation would +be sufficient in his case, to bring him before the tribunal of the +Revolution. Unless there were proofs—positive, irrefutable, damnable +proofs—of Paul Déroulède's treachery, the Public Prosecutor would +never dare to frame an indictment against him. The mob of Paris would +rise to defend its idol; the hideous hags, who plied their knitting at +the foot of the scaffold, would tear the guillotine down, before they +would allow Déroulède to mount it.</p> + +<p>This was Déroulède's stronghold: the people of Paris, whom he had +loved through all their infamies, and whom he had succoured and helped +in their private need; and above all the women of Paris, whose +children he had caused to be tended in the hospitals which he had +built for them—this they had not yet forgotten, and Merlin knew it. +One day they would forget—soon, perhaps—then they would turn on +their former idol, and, howling, send him to his death, amidst cries +of rancour and execration. When that day came there would be no need +to worry about treason or about proofs. When the populace had +forgotten all that he had done, then Déroulède would fall.</p> + +<p>But that time was not yet.</p> + +<p>The men had finished ransacking the room; every scrap of paper, every +portable article had been eagerly seized upon.</p> + +<p>Merlin, half blind with fury, had jumped to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Search him!" he ordered peremptorily.</p> + +<p>Déroulède set his teeth, and made no protest, calling up every fibre +of moral strength within him, to aid him in submitting to this +indignity. At a coarse jest from Merlin, he buried his nails into the +palms of his hand, not to strike the foulmouthed creature in the face. +But he submitted, and stood impassive by, whilst the pockets of his +coat were turned inside out by the rough hands of the soldiers.</p> + +<p>All the while Juliette had remained silent, watching Merlin as any +hawk would its prey. But the Terrorist, through the very coarseness of +his nature, was in this case completely fooled.</p> + +<p>He knew that it was Juliette who had denounced Déroulède, and had +satisfied himself as to her motive. Because he was low and brutish and +degraded, he never once suspected the truth, never saw in that +beautiful young woman, anything of the double nature within her, of +that curious, self-torturing, at times morbid sense of religion and of +duty, at war with her own upright, innately healthy disposition.</p> + +<p>The low-born, self-degraded Terrorist had put his own construction on +Juliette's action, and with this he was satisfied, since it answered +to his own estimate of the human race, the race which he was doing his +best to bring down to the level of the beast.</p> + +<p>Therefore Merlin did not interfere with Juliette, but contented +himself with insinuating, by jest and action, what her share in this +day's work had been. To these hints Déroulède, of course, paid no +heed. For him Juliette was as far above political intrigue as the +angels. He would as soon have suspected one of the saints enshrined in +Notre Dame as this beautiful, almost ethereal creature, who had been +sent by Heaven to gladden his heart and to elevate his very thought.</p> + +<p>But Juliette understood Merlin's attitude, and guessed that her +written denunciation had come into his hands. Her every thought, every +living sensation within her, was centred in this one thing: to save +the man she loved from the consequences of her own crime against him. +And for this, even the shadow of suspicion must be removed from him. +Merlin's iniquitous law should not touch him again.</p> + +<p>When Déroulède at last had been released, after the outrage to which +he had been personally subjected, Merlin was literally, and +figuratively too, looking about him for an issue to his present +dubious position.</p> + +<p>Judging others by his own standard of conduct, he feared now that the +popular Citizen-Deputy would incite the mob against him, in revenge +for the indignities which he had had to suffer. And with it all the +Terrorist was convinced that Déroulède was guilty, that proofs of his +treason did exist, if only he knew where to lay hands on them.</p> + +<p>He turned to Juliette with an unexpressed query in his adder-like +eyes. She shrugged her shoulders, and made a gesture as if pointing +towards the door.</p> + +<p>"There are other rooms in the house besides this," her gesture seemed +to say; "try them. The proofs are there, 'tis for you to find them."</p> + +<p>Merlin had been standing between her and Déroulède, so that the latter +saw neither query nor reply.</p> + +<p>"You are cunning, Citizen-Deputy," said Merlin now, turning towards +him, "and no doubt you have been at pains to put your treasonable +correspondence out of the way. You must understand that the Committee +of Public Safety will not be satisfied with a mere examination of your +study," he added, assuming an air of ironical benevolence, "and I +presume you will have no objection, if I and these citizen soldiers +pay a visit to other portions of your house."</p> + +<p>"As you please," responded Déroulède drily.</p> + +<p>"You will accompany us, Citizen-Deputy," commanded the other curtly.</p> + +<p>The four men of the National Guard formed themselves into line outside +the study door; with a peremptory nod, Merlin ordered Déroulède to +pass between them, then he too prepared to follow. At the door he +turned, and once more faced Juliette.</p> + +<p>"As for you, citizeness," he said, with a sudden access of viciousness +against her, "if you have brought us here on a fool's errand, it will +go ill with you, remember. Do not leave the house until our return. I +may have some questions to put to you."</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /><br /> +Tangled meshes.</h3> + + +<p>Juliette waited a moment or two, until the footsteps of the six men +died away up the massive oak stairs.</p> + +<p>For the first time, since the sword of Damocles had fallen, she was +alone with her thoughts.</p> + +<p>She had but a few moments at her command in which to devise an issue +out of these tangled meshes, which she had woven round the man she +loved.</p> + +<p>Merlin and his men would return anon. The comedy could not be kept up +through another visit from them, and while the compromising +letter-case remained in Déroulède's private study he was in imminent +danger at the hands of his enemy.</p> + +<p>She thought for a moment of concealing the case about her person, but +a second's reflection showed her the futility of such a move. She had +not seen the papers themselves; any one of them might be an absolute +proof of Déroulède's guilt; the correspondence might be in his +handwriting.</p> + +<p>If Merlin, furious, baffled, vicious, were to order her to be +searched! The horror of the indignity made her shudder, but she would +have submitted to that, if thereby she could have saved Déroulède. But +of this she could not be sure until after she had looked through the +papers, and this she had not the time to do.</p> + +<p>Her first and greatest idea was to get out of this room, his private +study, with the compromising papers. Not a trace of them must be found +here, if he were to remain beyond suspicion.</p> + +<p>She rose from the sofa, and peeped through the door. The hall was now +deserted; from the left wing of the house, on the floor above, the +heavy footsteps of the soldiers and Merlin's occasional brutish laugh +could be distinctly heard.</p> + +<p>Juliette listened for a moment, trying to understand what was +happening. Yes; they had all gone to Déroulède's bedroom, which was on +the extreme left, at the end of the first-floor landing. There might +be just time to accomplish what she had now resolved to do.</p> + +<p>As best she could, she hid the bulky leather case in the folds of her +skirt. It was literally neck or nothing now. If she were caught on the +stairs by one of the men nothing could save her or—possibly— +Déroulède.</p> + +<p>At any rate, by remaining where she was, by leaving the events to +shape themselves, discovery was absolutely certain. She chose to take +the risk.</p> + +<p>She slipped noiselessly out of the room and up the great oak stairs. +Merlin and his men, busy with their search in Déroulède's bedroom, +took no heed of what was going on behind them; Juliette arrived on the +landing, and turned sharply to her right, running noiselessly along +the thick Aubusson carpet, and thence quickly to her own room.</p> + +<p>All this had taken less than a minute to accomplish. The very next +moment she heard Merlin's voice ordering one of his men to stand at +attention on the landing, but by that time she was safe inside her +room. She closed the door noiselessly.</p> + +<p>Pétronelle, who had been busy all the afternoon packing up her young +mistress' things, had fallen asleep in an arm-chair. Unconscious of +the terrible events which were rapidly succeeding each other in the +house, the worthy old soul was snoring peaceably, with her hands +complacently folded on her ample bosom.</p> + +<p>Juliette, for the moment, took no notice of her. As quickly and as +dexterously as she could, she was tearing open the heavy leather case +with a sharp pair of scissors, and very soon its contents were +scattered before her on the table.</p> + +<p>One glance at them was sufficient to convince her that most of the +papers would undoubtedly, if found, send Déroulède to the guillotine. +Most of the correspondence was in the Citizen-Deputy's handwriting. +She had, of course, no time to examine it more closely, but instinct +naturally told her that it was of a highly compromising character.</p> + +<p>She gathered the papers up into a heap, tearing some of them up into +strips; then she spread them out upon the ash-pan in front of the +large earthenware stove, which stood in a corner of the room.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, this was a hot day in August. Her task would have been +far easier if she had wished to destroy a bundle of papers in the +depth of winter, when there was a good fire burning in the stove.</p> + +<p>But her purpose was firm and her incentive, the greatest that has ever +spurred mankind to heroism.</p> + +<p>Regardless of any consequences to herself, she had but the one object +in view, to save Déroulède at all costs.</p> + +<p>On the wall facing her bed, and immediately above a velvet-covered +prie-dieu, there was a small figure of the Virgin and Child—one of +those quaintly pretty devices for holding holy water, which the +reverent superstition of the past century rendered a necessary adjunct +of every girl's room.</p> + +<p>In front of the figure a small lamp was kept perpetually burning. +This Juliette now took between her fingers, carefully, lest the tiny +flame should die out. First she poured the oil over the fragments of +paper in the ash-pan, then with the wick she set fire to the whole +compromising correspondence.</p> + +<p>The oil helped the paper to burn quickly; the smell, or perhaps the +presence of Juliette in the room caused worthy old Pétronelle to wake.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing, Pétronelle," said Juliette quietly; "only a few old +letters I am burning. But I want to be alone for a few moments—will +you go down to the kitchen until I call you?"</p> + +<p>Accustomed to do as her young mistress commanded, Pétronelle rose +without a word.</p> + +<p>"I have finished putting away your few things, my jewel. There, +there! why didn't you tell me to burn your papers for you? You have +soiled your dear hands, and ..."</p> + +<p>"Sh! Sh! Pétronelle!" said Juliette impatiently, and gently pushing +the garrulous old woman towards the door. "Run to the kitchen now +quickly, and don't come out of it until I call you. And, Pétronelle," +she added, "you will see soldiers about the house perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Soldiers! The good God have mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be frightened, Pétronelle. But they may ask you questions."</p> + +<p>"Questions?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; about me."</p> + +<p>"My treasure, my jewel," exclaimed Pétronelle in alarm, "have those +devils ...?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; nothing has happened as yet, but, you know, in these times +there is always danger."</p> + +<p>"Good God! Holy Mary! Mother of God!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing 'll happen if you try to keep quite calm and do exactly as I +tell you. Go to the kitchen, and wait there until I call you. If the +soldiers come in and question you, if they try to frighten you, +remember that we have nothing to fear from men, and that our lives are +in God's keeping."</p> + +<p>All the while that Juliette spoke, she was watching the heap of paper +being gradually reduced to ashes. She tried to fan the flames as best +she could, but some of the correspondence was on tough paper, and was +slow in being consumed. Pétronelle, tearful but obedient, prepared to +leave the room. She was overawed by her mistress' air of aloofness, +the pale face rendered ethereally beautiful by the sufferings she had +gone through. The eyes glowed large and magnetic, as if in presence of +spiritual visions beyond mortal ken; the golden hair looked like a +saintly halo above the white, immaculate young brow.</p> + +<p>Pétronelle made the sign of the cross, as if she were in the presence +of a saint.</p> + +<p>As she opened the door there was a sudden draught, and the last +flickering flame died out in the ash-pan. Juliette, seeing that +Pétronelle had gone, hastily turned over the few half burnt fragments +of paper that were left. In none of them had the writing remained +legible. All that was compromising to Déroulède was effectually +reduced to dust. The small wick in the lamp at the foot of the Virgin +and Child had burned itself out for want of oil; there was no means +for Juliette to strike another light and to destroy what remained. The +leather case was, of course, still there, with its sides ripped open, +an indestructible thing.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to be done about that. Juliette after a second's +hesitation threw it among her dresses in the valise.</p> + +<p>Then she too went out of the room.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /><br /> +A happy moment.</h3> + + +<p>The search in the Citizen-Deputy's bedroom had proved as fruitless as +that in his study. Merlin was beginning to have vague doubts as to +whether he had been effectively fooled.</p> + +<p>His manner towards Déroulède had undergone a change. He had become +suave and unctuous, a kind of elephantine irony pervading his +laborious attempts at conciliation. He and the Public Prosecutor would +be severely blamed for this day's work, if the popular Deputy, relying +upon the support of the people of Paris, chose to take his revenge.</p> + +<p>In France, in this glorious year of the Revolution, there was but one +step between censure and indictment. And Merlin knew it. Therefore, +although he had not given up all hope of finding proofs of Déroulède's +treason, although by the latter's attitude he remained quite convinced +that such proof did exist, he was already reckoning upon the cat's +paw, the sop he would offer to that Cerberus, the Committee of Public +Safety, in exchange for his own exculpation in the matter.</p> + +<p>This sop would be Juliette, the denunciator instead of Déroulède the +denounced.</p> + +<p>But he was still seeking for the proofs.</p> + +<p>Somewhat changing his tactics, he had allowed Déroulède to join his +mother in the living-room, and had betaken himself to the kitchen in +search of Anne Mie, whom he had previously caught sight of in the +hall. There he also found old Pétronelle, whom he could scare out of +her wits to his heart's content, but from whom he was quite unable to +extract any useful information. Pétronelle was too stupid to be +dangerous, and Anne Mie was too much on the alert.</p> + +<p>But, with a vague idea that a cunning man might choose the most +unlikely places for the concealment of compromising property, he was +ransacking the kitchen from floor to ceiling.</p> + +<p>In the living-room Déroulède was doing his best to reassure his +mother, who, in her turn, was forcing herself to be brave, and not to +show by her tears how deeply she feared for the safety of her son. As +soon as Déroulède had been freed from the presence of the soldiers, he +had hastened back to his study, only to find that Juliette had gone, +and that the letter-case had also disappeared. Not knowing what to +think, trembling for the safety of the woman he adored, he was just +debating whether he would seek for her in her own room, when she came +towards him across the landing.</p> + +<p>There seemed a halo around her now. Déroulède felt that she had never +been so beautiful and to him so unattainable. Something told him then, +that at this moment she was as far away from him, as if she were an +inhabitant of another, more ethereal planet.</p> + +<p>When she saw him coming towards her, she put a finger to her lips, and +whispered:</p> + +<p>"Sh! sh! the papers are destroyed, burned."</p> + +<p>"And I owe my safety to you!"</p> + +<p>He had said it with his whole soul, an infinity of gratitude filled +his heart, a joy and pride in that she had cared for his safety.</p> + +<p>But at his words she had grown paler than she was before. Her eyes, +large, dilated, and dark, were fixed upon him with an intensity of +gaze which almost startled him. He thought that she was about to +faint, that the emotions of the past half hour had been too much for +her overstrung nerves. He took her hand, and gently dragged her into +the living-room.</p> + +<p>She sank into a chair, as if utterly weary and exhausted, and he, +forgetting his danger, forgetting the world and all else besides, +knelt at her feet, and held her hands in his.</p> + +<p>She sat bolt upright, her great eyes still fixed upon him. At first +it seemed as if he could not be satiated with looking at her; he felt +as if he had never, never really seen her. She had been a dream of +beauty to him ever since that awful afternoon when he had held her, +half fainting, in his arms, and had dragged her under the shelter of +his roof.</p> + +<p>From that hour he had worshipped her: she had cast over him the magic +spell of her refinement, her beauty, that aroma of youth and innocence +which makes such a strong appeal to the man of sentiment.</p> + +<p>He had worshipped her and not tried to understand. He would have +deemed it almost sacrilege to pry into the mysteries of her inner +self, of that second nature in her which at times made her silent, and +almost morose, and cast a lurid gloom over her young beauty.</p> + +<p>And though his love for her had grown in intensity, it had remained as +heaven born as he deemed her to be—the love of a mortal for a saint, +the ecstatic adoration of a St Francis for his Madonna.</p> + +<p>Sir Percy Blakeney had called Déroulède an idealist. He was that, in +the strictest sense, and Juliette had embodied all that was best in +his idealism.</p> + +<p>It was for the first time to-day, that he had held her hand just for a +moment longer than mere conventionality allowed. The first kiss on her +finger-tips had sent the blood rushing wildly to his heart; but he +still worshipped her, and gazed upon her as upon a divinity.</p> + +<p>She sat bolt upright in the chair, abandoning her small, cold hands to +his burning grasp.</p> + +<p>His very senses ached with the longing to clasp her in his arms, to +draw her to him, and to feel her pulses beat closer against his. It +was almost torture now to gaze upon her beauty—that small, oval +face, almost like a child's, the large eyes which at times had seemed +to be blue but which now appeared to be a deep, unfathomable colour, +like the tempestuous sea.</p> + +<p>"Juliette!" he murmured at last, as his soul went out to her in a +passionate appeal for the first kiss.</p> + +<p>A shudder seemed to go through her entire frame, her very lips turned +white and cold, and he, not understanding, timorous, chivalrous and +humble, thought that she was repelled by his ardour and frightened by +a passion to which she was too pure to respond.</p> + +<p>Nothing but that one word had been spoken—just her name, an appeal +from a strong man, overmastered at last by his boundless love—and +she, poor, stricken soul, who had so much loved, so deeply wronged +him, shuddered at the thought of what she might have done, had Fate +not helped her to save him.</p> + +<p>Half ashamed of his passion, he bowed his dark head over her hands, +and, once more forcing himself to be calm now, he kissed her +finger-tips reverently.</p> + +<p>When he looked up again the hard lines in her face had softened, and +two tears were slowly trickling down her pale cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Will you forgive me, madonna?" he said gently. "I am only a man and +you are very beautiful. No—don't take your little hands away. I am +quite calm now, and know how one should speak to angels."</p> + +<p>Reason, justice, rectitude—everything was urging Juliette to close +her ears to the words of love, spoken by the man whom she had +betrayed. But who shall blame her for listening to the sweetest sound +the ears of a woman can ever hear—the sound of the voice of the +loved one in his first declaration of love?</p> + +<p>She sat and listened, whilst he whispered to her those soft, endearing +words, of which a strong man alone possesses the enchanting secret.</p> + +<p>She sat and listened, whilst all around her was still. Madame +Déroulède, at the farther end of the room, was softly muttering a few +prayers.</p> + +<p>They were all alone these two in the mad and beautiful world, which +man has created for himself—the world of romance—that world more +wonderful than any heaven, where only those may enter who have learned +the sweet lesson of love. Déroulède roamed in it at will. He had +created his own romance, wherein he was as a humble worshipper, +spending his life in the service of his madonna.</p> + +<p>And she too forgot the earth, forgot the reality, her oath, her crime +and its punishment, and began to think that it was good to live, good +to love, and good to have at her feet the one man in all the world +whom she could fondly worship.</p> + +<p>Who shall tell what he whispered? Enough that she listened and that +she smiled; and he, seeing her smile, felt happy.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV. <br /><br /> +Detected.</h3> + + +<p>The opening and shutting of the door roused them both from their +dreams.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie, pale, trembling, with eyes looking wild and terrified, had +glided into the room.</p> + +<p>Déroulède had sprung to his feet. In a moment he had thrust his own +happiness into the background at sight of the poor child's obvious +suffering. He went quickly towards her, and would have spoken to her, +but she ran past him up to Madame Déroulède, as if she were beside +herself with some unexplainable terror.</p> + +<p>"Anne Mie," he said firmly, "what is it? Have those devils dared ..."</p> + +<p>In a moment reality had come rushing back upon him with full force, +and bitter reproaches surged up in his heart against himself, for +having in this moment of selfish joy forgotten those who looked up to +him for help and protection.</p> + +<p>He knew the temper of the brutes who had been set upon his track, knew +that low-minded Merlin and his noisome ways, and blamed himself +severely for having left Anne Mie and Pétronelle alone with him even +for a few moments.</p> + +<p>But Anne Mie quickly reassured him.</p> + +<p>"They have not molested us much," she said, speaking with a visible +effort and enforced calmness. "Pétronelle and I were together, and +they made us open all the cupboards and uncover all the dishes. They +then asked us many questions."</p> + +<p>"Questions? Of what kind?" asked Déroulède.</p> + +<p>"About you, Paul," replied Anne Mie, "and about maman, and also about +—about the citizeness, your guest."</p> + +<p>Déroulède looked at her closely, vaguely wondering at the strange +attitude of the child. She was evidently labouring under some strong +excitement, and in her thin, brown little hand she was clutching a +piece of paper.</p> + +<p>"Anne Mie! Child," he said very gently, "you seem quite upset—as if +something terrible had happened. What is that paper you are holding, +my dear?"</p> + +<p>Anne Mie gazed down upon it. She was obviously making frantic efforts +to maintain her self-possession.</p> + +<p>Juliette at first sight of Anne Mie seemed literally to have been +turned to stone. She sat upright, rigid as a statue, her eyes fixed +upon the poor, crippled girl as if upon an inexorable judge, about to +pronounce sentence upon her of life or death.</p> + +<p>Instinct, that keen sense of coming danger which Nature sometimes +gives to her elect, had told her that, within the next few seconds, +her doom would be sealed; that Fate would descend upon her, holding +the sword of Nemesis; and it was Anne Mie's tiny, half-shrivelled hand +which had placed that sword into the grasp of Fate.</p> + +<p>"What is that paper? Will you let me see it, Anne Mie?" repeated +Déroulède.</p> + +<p>"Citizen Merlin gave it to me just now," began Anne Mie more quietly; +"he seems very wroth at finding nothing compromising against you, +Paul. They were a long time in the kitchen, and now they have gone to +search my room and Pétronelle's; but Merlin—oh! that awful man!—he +seemed like a beast infuriated with his disappointment."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what he hoped to get out of me, for I told him that you +never spoke to your mother or to me about your political business, and +that I was not in the habit of listening at the keyholes."</p> + +<p>"Yes. And ..."</p> + +<p>"Then he began to speak of—of our guest—but, of course, there +again I could tell him nothing. He seemed to be puzzled as to who had +denounced you. He spoke about an anonymous denunciation, which reached +the Public Prosecutor early this morning. It was written on a scrap of +paper, and thrown into the public box, it seems, and ..."</p> + +<p>"It is indeed very strange," said Déroulède, musing over this +extraordinary occurrence, and still more over Anne Mie's strange +excitement in the telling of it. "I never knew I had a hidden enemy. I +wonder if I shall ever find out ..."</p> + +<p>"That is just what I said to Citizen Merlin," rejoined Anne Mie.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"That I wondered if you, or—or any of us who love you, will ever +find out who your hidden enemy might be."</p> + +<p>"It was a mistake to talk so fully with such a brute, little one."</p> + +<p>"I didn't say much, and I thought it wisest to humour him, as he +seemed to wish to talk on that subject."</p> + +<p>"Well? And what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He laughed, and asked me if I would very much like to know."</p> + +<p>"I hope you said No, Anne Mie?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed, I said Yes," she retorted with sudden energy, her +eyes fixed now upon Juliette, who still sat rigid and silent, watching +every movement of Anne Mie from the moment in which she began to tell +her story.</p> + +<p>"Would I not wish to know who is your enemy, Paul—the creature who +was base and treacherous enough to attempt to deliver you into the +hands of those merciless villains? What wrong had you done to anyone?"</p> + +<p>"Sh! Hush, Anne Mie! you are too excited," he said, smiling now, in +spite of himself, at the young girl's vehemence over what he thought +was but a trifle—the discovery of his own enemy.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Paul. How can I help being excited," rejoined Anne Mie +with quaint, pathetic gentleness, "when I speak of such base +treachery, as that which Merlin has suggested?"</p> + +<p>"Well? And what did he suggest?"</p> + +<p>"He did more than suggest," whispered Anne Mie almost inaudibly; "he +gave me this paper—the anonymous denunciation which reached the +Public Prosecutor this morning—he thought one of us might recognise +the handwriting."</p> + +<p>Then she paused, some five steps away from Déroulède, holding out +towards him the crumpled paper, which up to now she had clutched +determinedly in her hand. Déroulède was about to take it from her, and +just before he had turned to do so, his eyes lighted on Juliette.</p> + +<p>She said nothing, she had merely risen instinctively, and had reached +Anne Mie's side in less than the fraction of a second.</p> + +<p>It was all a flash, and there was dead silence in the room, but in +that one-hundredth part of a second, Déroulède had read guilt in the +face of Juliette.</p> + +<p>It was nothing but instinct, a sudden, awful, unexplainable +revelation. Her soul seemed suddenly to stand before him in all its +misery and in all its sin.</p> + +<p>It was as if the fire from heaven had descended in one terrific crash, +burying beneath its devastating flames his ideals, his happiness, and +his divinity. She was no longer there. His madonna had ceased to be.</p> + +<p>There stood before him a beautiful woman, on whom he had lavished all +the pent-up treasures of his love, whom he had succoured, sheltered, +and protected, and who had repaid him thus.</p> + +<p>She had forced an entry into his house; she had spied upon him, dogged +him, lied to him. The moment was too sudden, too awful for him to make +even a wild guess at her motives. His entire life, his whole past, the +present, and the future, were all blotted out in this awful dispersal +of his most cherished dream. He had forgotten everything else save her +appalling treachery; how could he even remember that once, long ago, +in fair fight, he had killed her brother?</p> + +<p>She did not even try now to hide her guilt.</p> + +<p>A look of appeal, touching in its trustfulness, went out to him, +begging him to spare her further shame. Perhaps she felt that love, +such as his, could not be killed in a flash.</p> + +<p>His entire nature was full of pity, and to that pity she made a final +appeal, lest she should be humiliated before Madame Déroulède and Anne +Mie.</p> + +<p>And he, still under the spell of those magic moments when he had knelt +at her feet, understood her prayer, and closing his eyes just for one +brief moment in order to shut out for ever that radiant vision of a +pure angel whom he had worshipped, turned quietly to Anne Mie.</p> + +<p>"Give me that paper, Anne Mie," he said coldly. "I may perhaps +recognise the handwriting of my most bitter enemy."</p> + +<p>"'Tis unnecessary now," replied Anne Mie slowly, still gazing at the +face of Juliette, in which she too had read what she wished to read.</p> + +<p>The paper dropped out of her hand.</p> + +<p>Déroulède stooped to pick it up. He unfolded it, smoothed it out, and +then saw that it was blank.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing written on this paper," he said mechanically.</p> + +<p>"No," rejoined Anne Mie; "no other words save the story of her +treachery."</p> + +<p>"What you have done is evil and wicked, Anne Mie."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so; but I had guessed the truth, and I wished to know. God +showed me this way, how to do it, and how to let you know as well."</p> + +<p>"The less you speak of God just now, Anne Mie, the better, I think. +Will you attend to maman? she seems faint and ill."</p> + +<p>Madame Déroulède, silent and placid in her arm-chair, had watched the +tragic scene before her, almost like a disinterested spectator. All +her ideas and all her thoughts had been paralysed, since the moment +when the first summons at the front door had warned her of the +imminence of the peril to her son.</p> + +<p>The final discovery of Juliette's treachery had left her impassive. +Since her son was in danger, she cared little as to whence that danger +had come.</p> + +<p>Obedient to Déroulède's wish, Anne Mie was attending to the old lady's +comforts. The poor, crippled girl was already feeling the terrible +reaction of her deed.</p> + +<p>In her childish mind she had planned this way, in which to bring the +traitor to shame. Anne Mie knew nothing, cared nothing, about the +motives which had actuated Juliette; all she knew was that a terrible +Judas-like deed had been perpetrated against the man, on whom she +herself had lavished her pathetic, hopeless love.</p> + +<p>All the pent-up jealousy which had tortured her for the past three +weeks rose up, and goaded her into unmasking her rival.</p> + +<p>Never for a moment did she doubt Juliette's guilt. The god of love +may be blind, tradition has so decreed it, but the demon of jealousy +has a hundred eyes, more keen than those of the lynx.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie, pushed aside by Merlin's men when they forced their way into +Déroulède's study, had, nevertheless, followed them to the door. When +the curtains were drawn aside and the room filled with light, she had +seen Juliette enthroned, apparently calm and placid, upon the sofa.</p> + +<p>It was instinct, the instinct born of her own rejected passion, which +caused her to read in the beautiful girl's face all that lay hidden +behind the pale, impassive mask. That same second sight made her +understand Merlin's hints and allusions. She caught every inflection +of his voice, heard everything, saw everything.</p> + +<p>And in the midst of her anxiety and her terrors for the man she loved, +there was the wild, primitive, intensely human joy at the thought of +bringing that enthroned idol, who had stolen his love, down to earth +at last.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie was not clever; she was simple and childish, with no +complexity of passions or devious ways of intellect. It was her +elemental jealousy which suggested the cunning plan for the unmasking +of Juliette. She would make the girl cringe and fear, threaten her +with discovery, and through her very terror shame her before Paul +Déroulède.</p> + +<p>And now it was all done; it had all occurred as she had planned it. +Paul knew that his love had been wasted upon a liar and a traitor, and +Juliette stood pale, humiliated, a veritable wreck of shamed humanity.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie had triumphed, and was profoundly, abjectly wretched in her +triumph. Great sobs seemed to tear at her very heart-strings. She had +pulled down Paul's idol from her pedestal, but the one look she had +cast at his face had shown her that she had also wrecked his life.</p> + +<p>He seemed almost old now. The earnest, restless gaze had gone from +his eyes; he was staring mutely before him, twisting between nerveless +fingers that blank scrap of paper, which had been the means of +annihilating his dream.</p> + +<p>All energy of attitude, all strength of bearing, which were his chief +characteristics, seemed to have gone. There was a look of complete +blankness, of hopelessness in his listless gesture.</p> + +<p>"How he loved her!" sighed Anne Mie, as she tenderly wrapped the shawl +round Madame Déroulède's shoulders.</p> + +<p>Juliette had said nothing; it seemed as if her very life had gone out +of her. She was a mere statue now, her mind numb, her heart dead, her +very existence a fragile piece of mechanism. But she was looking at +Déroulède. That one sense in her had remained alive: her sight.</p> + +<p>She looked and looked: and saw every passing sign of mental agony on +his face: the look of recognition of her guilt, the bewilderment at +the appalling crash, and now that hideous deathlike emptiness of his +soul and mind.</p> + +<p>Never once did she detect horror or loathing. He had tried to save +her from being further humiliated before his mother, but there was no +hatred or contempt in his eyes, when he realised that she had been +unmasked by a trick.</p> + +<p>She looked and looked, for there was no hope in her, not even despair. +There was nothing in her mind, nothing in her soul, but a great +pall-like blank.</p> + +<p>Then gradually, as the minutes sped on, she saw the strong soul within +him make a sudden fight against the darkness of his despair: the +movement of the fingers became less listless; the powerful, energetic +figure straightened itself out; remembrance of other matters, other +interests than his own began to lift the overwhelming burden of his +grief.</p> + +<p>He remembered the letter-case containing the compromising papers. A +vague wonder arose in him as to Juliette's motives in warding off, +through her concealment of it, the inevitable moment of its discovery +by Merlin.</p> + +<p>The thought that her entire being had undergone a change, and that she +now wished to save him, never once entered his mind; if it had, he +would have dismissed it as the outcome of maudlin sentimentality, the +conceit of the fop, who believes his personality to be irresistible.</p> + +<p>His own self-torturing humility pointed but to the one conclusion: +that she had fooled him all along; fooled him when she sought his +protection; fooled him when she taught him to love her; fooled him, +above all, at the moment when, subjugated by the intensity of his +passion, he had for one brief second ceased to worship in order to +love.</p> + +<p>When the bitter remembrance of that moment of sweetest folly rushed +back to his aching brain, then at last did he look up at her with one +final, agonised look of reproach, so great, so tender, and yet so +final, that Anne Mie, who saw it, felt as if her own heart would break +with the pity of it all.</p> + +<p>But Juliette had caught the look too. The tension of her nerves +seemed suddenly to relax. Memory rushed back upon her with tumultuous +intensity. Very gradually her knees gave beneath her, and at last she +knelt down on the floor before him, her golden head bent under the +burden of her guilt and her shame.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /><br /> +Under arrest.</h3> + + +<p>Déroulède did not attempt to go to her.</p> + +<p>Only presently, when the heavy footsteps of Merlin and his men were +once more heard upon the landing, she quietly rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>She had accomplished her act of humiliation and repentance, there +before them all. She looked for the last time upon those whom she had +so deeply wronged, and in her heart spoke an eternal farewell to that +great, and mighty, and holy love which she had called forth and then +had so hopelessly crushed.</p> + +<p>Now she was ready for the atonement.</p> + +<p>Merlin had already swaggered into the room. The long and arduous +search throughout the house had not improved either his temper or his +personal appearance. He was more covered with grime than he had been +before, and his narrow forehead had almost disappeared beneath the +tangled mass of his ill-kempt hair, which he had perpetually tugged +forward and roughed up in his angry impatience.</p> + +<p>One look at his face had already told Juliette what she wished to +know. He had searched her room, and found the fragments of burnt +paper, which she had purposely left in the ash-pan.</p> + +<p>How he would act now was the one thing of importance left for Juliette +to ponder over. That she would not escape arrest and condemnation was +at once made clear to her. Merlin's look of sneering contempt, when he +glanced towards her, had told her that.</p> + +<p>Déroulède himself had been conscious of a feeling of intense relief +when the men re-entered the room. The tension had become unendurable. +When he saw his dethroned madonna kneel in humiliation at his feet, an +overwhelming pain had wrenched his very heart-strings.</p> + +<p>And yet he could not go to her. The passionate, human nature within +him felt a certain proud exultation at seeing her there.</p> + +<p>She was not above him now, she was no longer akin to the angels.</p> + +<p>He had given no further thought to his own immediate danger. Vaguely +he guessed that Merlin would find the leather case. Where it was he +could not tell; perhaps Juliette herself had handed it to the +soldiers. She had only hidden it for a few moments, out of impulse +perhaps, fearing lest, at the first instant of its discovery, Merlin +might betray her.</p> + +<p>He remembered now those hints and insinuations which had gone out from +the Terrorist to Juliette whilst the search was being conducted in the +study. At the time he had merely looked upon these as a base attempt +at insult, and had tortured himself almost beyond bearing, in the +endeavour to refrain from punishing that evilmouthed creature, who +dared to bandy words with his madonna.</p> + +<p>But now he understood, and felt his very soul writhing with shame at +the remembrance of it all.</p> + +<p>Oh yes; the return of Merlin and his men, the presence of these grimy, +degraded brutes, was welcome now. He would have wished to crowd in the +entire world, the universe and its population, between him and his +fallen idol.</p> + +<p>Merlin's manner towards him had lost nothing of its ironical +benevolence. There was even a touch of obsequiousness apparent in the +ugly face, as the representative of the people approached the popular +Citizen-Deputy.</p> + +<p>"Citizen-Deputy," began Merlin, "I have to bring you the welcome news, +that we have found nothing in your house that in any way can cast +suspicion upon your loyalty to the Republic. My orders, however, were +to bring you before the Committee of Public Safety, whether I had +found proofs of your guilt or not. I have found none."</p> + +<p>He was watching Déroulède keenly, hoping even at this eleventh hour to +detect a look or a sign, which would furnish him with the proofs for +which he was seeking. The slightest suggestion of relief on +Déroulède's part, a sigh of satisfaction, would have been sufficient +at this moment, to convince him and the Committee of Public Safety +that the Citizen-Deputy was guilty after all.</p> + +<p>But Déroulède never moved. He was sufficiently master of himself not +to express either surprise or satisfaction. Yet he felt both— +satisfaction not for his own safety, but because of his mother and +Anne Mie, whom he would immediately send out of the country, out of +all danger; and also because of her, of Juliette Marny, his guest, +who, whatever she may have done against him, had still a claim on his +protection. His feeling of surprise was less keen, and quite +transient. Merlin had not found the letter-case. Juliette, stricken +with tardy remorse perhaps, had succeeded in concealing it. The matter +had practically ceased to interest him. It was equally galling to owe +his betrayal or his ultimate safety to her.</p> + +<p>He kissed his mother tenderly, bidding her good-bye, and pressed Anne +Mie's timid little hand warmly between his own. He did what he could +to reassure them, but, for their own sakes, he dared say nothing +before Merlin, as to his plans for their safety.</p> + +<p>After that he was ready to follow the soldiers.</p> + +<p>As he passed close to Juliette he bowed, and almost inaudibly +whispered:</p> + +<p>"Adieu!"</p> + +<p>She heard the whisper, but did not respond. Her look alone gave him +the reply to his eternal farewell.</p> + +<p>His footsteps and those of his escort were heard echoing down the +staircase, then the hall door to open and shut. Through the open +window came the sound of hoarse cheering as the popular Citizen-Deputy +appeared in the street.</p> + +<p>Merlin, with two men beside him, remained under the portico; he told +off the other two to escort Déroulède as far as the Hall of Justice, +where sat the members of the Committee of Public Safety. The Terrorist +had a vague fear that the Citizen-Deputy would speak to the mob.</p> + +<p>An unruly crowd of women had evidently been awaiting his appearance. +The news had quickly spread along the streets that Merlin, Merlin +himself, the ardent, bloodthirsty Jacobin, had made a descent upon +Paul Déroulède's house, escorted by four soldiers. Such an indignity, +put upon the man they most trusted in the entire assembly of the +Convention, had greatly incensed the crowd. The women jeered at the +soldiers as soon as they appeared, and Merlin dared not actually +forbid Déroulède to speak.</p> + +<p><i>"A la lanterne, vieux crétin!"</i> shouted one of the women, thrusting +her fist under Merlin's nose.</p> + +<p>"Give the word, Citizen-Deputy," rejoined another, "and we'll break +his ugly face. <i>Nous lui casserons la gueule!</i> "</p> + +<p>"<i>A la lanterne! A la lanterne!"</i> </p> + +<p>One word from Déroulède now would have caused an open riot, and in +those days self defence against the mob was construed into enmity +against the people.</p> + +<p>Merlin's work, too, was not yet accomplished. He had had no intention +of escorting Déroulède himself; he had still important business to +transact inside the house which he had just quitted, and had merely +wished to get the Citizen-Deputy well out of the way, before he went +upstairs again.</p> + +<p>Moreover, he had expected something of a riot in the streets. The +temper of the people of Paris was at fever heat just now. The hatred +of the populace against a certain class, and against certain +individuals, was only equalled by their enthusiasm in favour of +others.</p> + +<p>They had worshipped Marat for his squalor and his vices; they +worshipped Danton for his energy and Robespierre for his calm; they +worshipped Déroulède for his voice, his gentleness and his pity, for +his care of their children and the eloquence of his speech.</p> + +<p>It was that eloquence which Merlin feared now; but he little knew the +type of man he had to deal with.</p> + +<p>Déroulède's influence over the most unruly, the most vicious populace +the history of the world has ever known, was not obtained through +fanning its passions. That popularity, though brilliant, is always +ephemeral. The passions of a mob will invariably turn against those +who have helped to rouse them. Marat did not live to see the waning of +his star; Danton was dragged to the guillotine by those whom he had +taught to look upon that instrument of death as the only possible and +unanswerable political argument; Robespierre succumbed to the orgies +of bloodshed he himself had brought about. But Déroulède remained +master of the people of Paris for as long as he chose to exert that +mastery. When they listened to him they felt better, nobler, less +hopelessly degraded.</p> + +<p>He kept up in their poor, misguided hearts that last flickering sense +of manhood which their bloodthirsty tyrants, under the guise of +Fraternity and Equality, were doing their best to smother.</p> + +<p>Even now, when he might have turned the temper of the small crowd +outside his door to his own advantage, he preferred to say nothing; he +even pacified them with a gesture.</p> + +<p>He well knew that those whom he incited against Merlin now would, once +their blood was up, probably turn against him in less than +half-an-hour.</p> + +<p>Merlin, who all along had meant to return to the house, took his +opportunity now. He allowed Déroulède and the two men to go on ahead, +and beat a hasty retreat back into the house, followed by the jeers of +the women.</p> + +<p><i>"A la lanterne, vieux crétin!"</i> they shouted as soon as the hall door +was once more closed in their faces. A few of them began hammering +against the door with their fists; then they realised that their +special favourite, Citizen-Deputy Déroulède, was marching along +between two soldiers, as if he were a prisoner. The word went round +that he was under arrest, and was being taken to the Hall of Justice— +a prisoner.</p> + +<p>This was not to be. The mob of Paris had been taught that it was the +master in the city, and it had learned its lesson well. For the moment +it had chosen to take Paul Déroulède under its special protection, and +as a guard of honour to him—the women in ragged kirtles, the men +with bare legs and stripped to the waist, the children all yelling, +hooting, and shrieking—followed him, to see that none dared harm +him.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /><br /> +Atonement.</h3> + + +<p>Merlin waited a while in the hall, until he heard the noise of the +shrieking crowd gradually die away in the distance, then with a grunt +of satisfaction he one more mounted the stairs.</p> + +<p>All these events outside had occurred during a very few minutes, and +Madame Déroulède and Anne Mie had been too anxious as to what was +happening in the streets, to take any notice of Juliette.</p> + +<p>They had not dared to step out on to the balcony to see what was going +on, and, therefore, did not understand what the reopening and shutting +of the front door had meant.</p> + +<p>The next instant, however, Merlin's heavy, slouching footsteps on the +stairs had caused Anne Mie to look round in alarm.</p> + +<p>"It is only the soldiers come back for me," said Juliette quietly.</p> + +<p>"For you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; they are coming to take me away. I suppose they did not wish to +do it in the presence of Mr. Déroulède, for fear ..."</p> + +<p>She had no time to say more. Anne Mie was still looking at her in +awed and mute surprise, when Merlin entered the room.</p> + +<p>In his hand he held a leather case, all torn, and split at one end, +and a few tiny scraps of half-charred paper. He walked straight up to +Juliette, and roughly thrust the case and papers into her face.</p> + +<p>"These are yours?" he said roughly.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know where they were found?"</p> + +<p>She nodded quietly in reply.</p> + +<p>"What were these papers which you burnt?"</p> + +<p>"Love letters."</p> + +<p>"You lie!"</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"As you please," she said curtly.</p> + +<p>"What were these papers?" he repeated, with a loud obscene oath which, +however, had not the power to disturb the young girl's serenity.</p> + +<p>"I have told you," she said: "love letters, which I wished to burn."</p> + +<p>"Who was your lover?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Then as she did not reply he indicated the street, where cries of +"Déroulède! Vive Déroulède!" still echoed from afar.</p> + +<p>"Were the letters from him?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You had more than one lover, then?"</p> + +<p>He laughed, and a hideous leer seemed further to distort his ugly +countenance.</p> + +<p>He thrust his face quite close to hers, and she closed her eyes, sick +with the horror of this contact with the degraded wretch. Even Anne +Mie had uttered a cry of sympathy at sight of this evil-smelling, +squalid creature torturing, with his close proximity, the beautiful, +refined girl before him.</p> + +<p>With a rough gesture he put his clawlike hand under her delicate chin, +forcing her to turn round and to look at him. She shuddered at the +loathsome touch, but her quietude never forsook her for a moment.</p> + +<p>It was into the power of wretches such as this man, that she had +wilfully delivered the man she loved. This brutish creature's +familiarity put the finishing touch to her own degradation, but it +gave her the courage to carry through her purpose to the end.</p> + +<p>"You had more than one lover, then?" said Merlin, with a laugh which +would have pleased the devil himself. "And you wished to send one of +them to the guillotine in order to make way for the other? Was that +it?"</p> + +<p>"Was that it?" he repeated, suddenly seizing one of her wrists, and +giving it a savage twist, so that she almost screamed with the pain.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied firmly.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that you brought me here on a fool's errand?" he asked +viciously; "that the Citizen-Deputy Déroulède cannot be sent to the +guillotine on mere suspicion, eh? Did you know that, when you wrote +out that denunciation?"</p> + +<p>"No; I did not know."</p> + +<p>"You thought we could arrest him on mere suspicion?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You knew he was Innocent?"</p> + +<p>"I knew it."</p> + +<p>"Why did you burn your love letters?"</p> + +<p>"I was afraid that they would be found, and would be brought under the +notice of the Citizen-Deputy."</p> + +<p>"A splendid combination, <i>ma foi!</i> " said Merlin, with an oath, as he +turned to the two other women, who sat pale and shrinking in a corner +of the room, not understanding what was going on, not knowing what to +think or what to believe. They had known nothing of Déroulède's plans +for the escape of Marie Antoinette, they didn't know what the +letter-case had contained, and yet they both vaguely felt that the +beautiful girl, who stood up so calmly before the loathsome Terrorist, +was not a wanton, as she tried to make out, but only misguided, mad +perhaps—perhaps a martyr.</p> + +<p>"Did you know anything of this?" queried Merlin roughly from trembling +Anne Mie.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she replied.</p> + +<p>"No one knew anything of my private affairs or of my private +correspondence," said Juliette coldly; "as you say, it was a splendid +combination. I had hoped that it would succeed. But I understand now +that Citizen-Deputy Déroulède is a personage of too much importance to +be brought to trial on mere suspicion, and my denunciation of him was +not based on facts."</p> + +<p>"And do you know, my fine aristocrat," sneered Merlin viciously, "that +it is not wise either to fool the Committee of Public Safety, or to +denounce without cause one of the representatives of the people?"</p> + +<p>"I know," she rejoined quietly, "that you, Citizen Merlin, are +determined that someone shall pay for this day's blunder. You dare not +now attack the Citizen-Deputy, and so you must be content with me."</p> + +<p>"Enough of this talk now; I have no time to bandy words with aristos," +he said roughly.</p> + +<p>"Come now, follow the men quietly. Resistance would only aggravate +your case."</p> + +<p>"I am quite prepared to follow you. May I speak two words to my +friends before I go?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I may never be able to speak to them again."</p> + +<p>"I have said No, and I mean No. Now then, forward. March! I have +wasted too much time already."</p> + +<p>Juliette was too proud to insist any further. She had hoped, by one +word, to soften Madame Déroulède's and Anne Mie's heart towards her. +She did not know whether they believed that miserable lie which she +had been telling to Merlin; she only guessed that for the moment they +still thought her the betrayer of Paul Déroulède.</p> + +<p>But that one word was not to be spoken. She would have to go forth to +her certain trial, to her probable death, under the awful cloud, which +she herself had brought over her own life.</p> + +<p>She turned quietly, and walked towards the door, where the two men +already stood at attention.</p> + +<p>Then it was that some heaven-born instinct seemed suddenly to guide +Anne Mie. The crippled girl was face to face with a psychological +problem, which in itself was far beyond her comprehension, but vaguely +she felt that it was a problem. Something in Juliette's face had +already caused her to bitterly repent her action towards her, and now, +as this beautiful, refined woman was about to pass from under the +shelter of this roof, to the cruel publicity and terrible torture of +that awful revolutionary tribunal, Anne Mie's whole heart went out to +her in boundless sympathy.</p> + +<p>Before Merlin or the men could prevent her, she had run up to +Juliette, taken her hand, which hung listless and cold, and kissed it +tenderly.</p> + +<p>Juliette seemed to wake as if from a dream. She looked down at Anne +Mie with a glance of hope, almost of joy, and whispered:</p> + +<p>"It was an oath—I swore it to my father and my dead brother. Tell +him."</p> + +<p>Anne Mie could only nod; she could not speak, for her tears were +choking her.</p> + +<p>"But I'll atone—with my life. Tell him," whispered Juliette.</p> + +<p>"Now then," shouted Merlin, "out of the way, hunchback, unless you +want to come along too."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," said Anne Mie through her tears.</p> + +<p>Then the men pushed her roughly aside. But at the door Juliette +turned to her once more, and said:</p> + +<p>"Pétronelle—take care of her ..."</p> + +<p>And with a firm step she followed the soldiers out of the room.</p> + +<p>Presently the front door was heard to open, then to shut with a loud +bang, and the house in the Rue Ecole de Médecine was left in silence.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><br /> +In the Luxembourg prison.</h3> + + +<p>Juliette was alone at last—that is to say, comparatively alone, for +there were too many aristocrats, too many criminals and traitors, in +the prisons of Paris now, to allow of any seclusion of those who were +about to be tried, condemned, and guillotined.</p> + +<p>The young girl had been marched through the crowded streets of Paris, +followed by a jeering mob, who readily recognised in the gentle, +high-bred girl the obvious prey, which the Committee of Public Safety +was wont, from time to time to throw to the hungry hydra-headed dog of +the Revolution.</p> + +<p>Lately the squalid spectators of the noisome spectacle on the Place de +la Guillotine had had few of these very welcome sights: an aristocrat +—a real, elegant, refined woman, with white hands and proud, pale +face—mounting the steps of the same scaffold on which perished the +vilest criminals and most degraded brutes.</p> + +<p>Madame Guillotine was, above all, catholic in her tastes, her gaunt +arms, painted blood red, were open alike to the murderer and the +thief, the aristocrats of ancient lineage, and the proletariat from +the gutter.</p> + +<p>But lately the executions had been almost exclusively of a political +character. The Girondins were fighting their last upon the bloody +arena of the Revolution. One by one they fell still fighting, still +preaching moderation, still foretelling disaster and appealing to that +people, whom they had roused from one slavery, in order to throw it +headlong under a tyrannical yoke more brutish, more absolute than +before.</p> + +<p>There were twelve prisons in Paris then, and forty thousand in France, +and they were all full. An entire army went round the country +recruiting prisoners. There was no room for separate cells, no room +for privacy, no cause or desire for the most elementary sense of +delicacy.</p> + +<p>Women, men, children—all were herded together, for one day, perhaps +two, and a night or so, and then death would obliterate the petty +annoyances, the womanly blushes caused by this sordid propinquity.</p> + +<p>Death levelled all, erased everything.</p> + +<p>When Marie Antoinette mounted the guillotine she had forgotten that +for six weeks she practically lived day and night in the immediate +companionship of a set of degraded soldiery.</p> + +<p>Juliette, as she marched through the streets between two men of the +National Guard, and followed by Merlin, was hooted and jeered at, +insulted, pelted with mud. One woman tried to push past the soldiers, +and to strike her in the face—a woman! not thirty!—and who was +dragging a pale, squalid little boy by the hand.</p> + +<p>"<i>Crache donc sur l'aristo, voyons!</i> " the woman said to this poor, +miserable little scrap of humanity as the soldiers pushed her roughly +aside. "Spit on the aristocrat!" And the child tortured its own small, +parched mouth so that, in obedience to its mother, it might defile and +bespatter a beautiful, innocent girl.</p> + +<p>The soldiers laughed, and improved the occasion with another insulting +jest. Even Merlin forgot his vexation, delighted at the incident.</p> + +<p>But Juliette had seen nothing of it all.</p> + +<p>She was walking as in a dream. The mob did not exist for her; she +heard neither insult nor vituperation. She did not see the evil, dirty +faces pushed now and then quite close to her; she did not feel the +rough hands of the soldiers jostling her through the crowd: she had +gone back to her own world of romance, where she dwelt alone now with +the man she loved. Instead of the squalid houses of Paris, with their +eternal device of Fraternity and Equality, there were beautiful trees +and shrubs of laurel and of roses around her, making the air fragrant +with their soft, intoxicating perfumes; sweet voices from the land of +dreams filled the atmosphere with their tender murmur, whilst overhead +a cloudless sky illumined this earthly paradise.</p> + +<p>She was happy—supremely, completely happy. She had saved him from +the consequences of her own iniquitous crime, and she was about to +give her life for him, so that his safety might be more completely +assured.</p> + +<p>Her love for him he would never know; now he knew only her crime, but +presently, when she would be convicted and condemned, confronted with +a few scraps of burned paper and a torn letter-case, then he would +know that she had stood her trial, self-accused, and meant to die for +him.</p> + +<p>Therefore the past few moments were now wholly hers. She had the +rights to dwell on those few happy seconds when she listened to the +avowal of his love. It was ethereal, and perhaps not altogether human, +but it was hers. She had been his divinity, his madonna; he had loved +in her that, which was her truer, her better self.</p> + +<p>What was base in her was not truly her. That awful oath, sworn so +solemnly, had been her relentless tyrant; and her religion—a +religion of superstition and of false ideals—had blinded her, and +dragged her into crime.</p> + +<p>She had arrogated to herself that which was God's alone—"Vengeance!" +which is not for man.</p> + +<p>That through it all she should have known love, and learned its tender +secrets, was more than she deserved. That she should have felt his +burning kisses on her hand was heavenly compensation for all she would +have to suffer.</p> + +<p>And so she allowed them to drag her through the sansculotte mob of +Paris, who would have torn her to pieces then and there, so as not to +delay the pleasure of seeing her die.</p> + +<p>They took her to the Luxembourg, once the palace of the Medici, the +home of proud "Monsieur" in the days of the Great Monarch, now a +loathsome, overfilled prison.</p> + +<p>It was then six o'clock in the afternoon, drawing towards the close of +this memorable day. She was handed over to the governor of the prison, +a short, thick-set man in black trousers and black-shag woollen shirt, +and wearing a dirty red cap, with tricolour rosette on the side of his +unkempt head.</p> + +<p>He eyed her up and down as she passed under the narrow doorway, then +murmured one swift query to Merlin:</p> + +<p>"Dangerous?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Merlin laconically.</p> + +<p>"You understand," added the governor; "we are so crowded. We ought to +know if individual attention is required."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Merlin, "you will be personally responsible for this +prisoner to the Committee of Public Safety."</p> + +<p>"Any visitors allowed?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, without the special permission of the Public +Prosecutor."</p> + +<p>Juliette heard this brief exchange of words over her future fate.</p> + +<p>No visitor would be allowed to see her. Well, perhaps that would be +best. She would have been afraid to meet Déroulède again, afraid to +read in his eyes that story of his dead love, which alone might have +destroyed her present happiness.</p> + +<p>And she wished to see no one. She had a memory to dwell on—a short, +heavenly memory. It consisted of a few words, a kiss—the last one— +on her hand, and that passionate murmur which had escaped from his +lips when he knelt at her feet:</p> + +<p>"Juliette!"</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /><br /> +Complexities.</h3> + + +<p>Citizen-Deputy Déroulède had been privately interviewed by the +Committee of Public Safety, and temporarily allowed to go free.</p> + +<p>The brief proceedings had been quite private, the people of Paris were +not to know as yet that their favourite was under a cloud. When he had +answered all the questions put to him, and Merlin—just returned from +his errand at the Luxembourg Prison—had given his version of the +domiciliary visitation in the Citizen-Deputy's house, the latter was +briefly told that for the moment the Republic had no grievance against +him.</p> + +<p>But he knew quite well what that meant. He would be henceforth under +suspicion, watched incessantly, as a mouse is by the cat, and pounced +upon, the moment time would be considered propitious for his final +downfall.</p> + +<p>The inevitable waning of his popularity would be noted by keen, +jealous eyes; and Déroulède, with his sure knowledge of mankind and of +character, knew well enough that his popularity was bound to wane +sooner or later, as all such ephemeral things do.</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile, during the short respite which his enemies would +leave him, his one thought and duty would be to get his mother and +Anne Mie safely out of the country.</p> + +<p>And also ...</p> + +<p>He thought of <i>her,</i> and wondered what had happened. As he walked +swiftly across the narrow footbridge, and reached the other side of +the river, the events of the past few hours rushed upon his memory +with terrible, overwhelming force.</p> + +<p>A bitter ache filled his heart at the remembrance of her treachery. +The baseness of it all was so appalling. He tried to think if he had +ever wronged her; wondered if perhaps she loved someone else, and +wished <i>him</i> out of her way.</p> + +<p>But, then, he had been so humble, so unassuming in his love. He had +arrogated nothing unto himself, asked for nothing, demanded nothing in +virtue of his protecting powers over her.</p> + +<p>He was torturing himself with this awful wonderment of why she had +treated him thus.</p> + +<p>Out of revenge for her brother's death—that was the only explanation +he could find, the only palliation for her crime.</p> + +<p>He knew nothing of her oath to her father, and, of course, had never +heard of the sad history of this young, sensitive girl placed in one +terrible moment between her dead brother and her demented father. He +only thought of common, sordid revenge for a sin he had been +practically forced to commit.</p> + +<p>And how he had loved her! +Yes, <i>loved</i> —for that was in the past now.</p> + +<p>She had ceased to be a saint or a madonna; she had fallen from her +pedestal so low that he could not find the way to descend and grope +after the fragments of his ideal.</p> + +<p>At his own door he was met by Anne Mie in tears.</p> + +<p>"She has gone," murmured the young girl. "I feel as if I had murdered +her."</p> + +<p>"Gone? Who? Where?" queried Déroulède rapidly, an icy feeling of +terror gripping him by the heart-strings.</p> + +<p>"Juliette has gone," replied Anne Mie; "those awful brutes took her +away."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"Directly after you left. That man Merlin found some ashes and scraps +of paper in her room ..."</p> + +<p>"Ashes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and a torn letter-case."</p> + +<p>"Great God!"</p> + +<p>"She said that they were love letters, which she had been burning for +fear you should see them."</p> + +<p>"She said so? Anne Mie, Anne Mie, are you quite sure?"</p> + +<p>It was all so horrible, and he did not quite understand it all; his +brain, which was usually so keen and so active, refused him service at +this terrible juncture.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am quite sure," continued Anne Mie, in the midst of her tears. +"And oh! that awful Merlin said some dastardly things. But she +persisted in her story, that she had—another lover. Oh, Paul, I am +sure it is not true. I hated her because—because—you loved her so, +and I mistrusted her, but I cannot believe that she was quite as base +as that."</p> + +<p>"No, no, child," he said in a toneless, miserable voice; "she was not +so base as that. Tell me more of what she said."</p> + +<p>"She said very little else. But Merlin asked her whether she had +denounced you so as to get you out of the way. He hinted that— +that ..."</p> + +<p>"That I was her lover too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," murmured Anne Mie.</p> + +<p>She hardly liked to look at him; the strong face had become hard and +set in its misery.</p> + +<p>"And she allowed them to say all this?" he asked at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And she followed them without a murmur, as Merlin said she +would have to answer before the Committee of Public Safety, for having +fooled the representatives of the people."</p> + +<p>"She'll answer for it with her life," murmured Déroulède. "And with +mine!" he added half audibly.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie did not hear him; her pathetic little soul was filled with a +great, an overwhelming pity of Juliette and for Paul.</p> + +<p>"Before they took her away," she said, placing her thin, +delicate-looking hands on his arm. "I ran to her, and bade her +farewell. The soldiers pushed me roughly aside; but I contrived to +kiss her—and then she whispered a few words to me."</p> + +<p>"Yes? What were they?"</p> + +<p>"'It was an oath,' she said. 'I swore it to my father and to my dead +brother. Tell him,'" repeated Anne Mie slowly.</p> + +<p>An oath!</p> + +<p>Now he understood, and oh! how he pitied her. How terribly she must +have suffered in her poor, harassed soul when her noble, upright +nature fought against this hideous treachery.</p> + +<p>That she was true and brave in herself, of that Déroulède had no +doubt. And now this awful sin upon her conscience, which must be +causing her endless misery.</p> + +<p>And, alas! the atonement would never free her from the load of +self-condemnation. She had elected to pay with her life for her +treason against him and his family. She would be arraigned before a +tribunal which would inevitably condemn her. Oh! the pity of it all!</p> + +<p>One moment's passionate emotion, a lifelong superstition and mistaken +sense of duty, and now this endless misery, this terrible atonement of +a wrong that could never be undone.</p> + +<p>And she had never loved him!</p> + +<p>That was the true, the only sting which he knew now; it rankled more +than her sin, more than her falsehood, more than the shattering of his +ideal.</p> + +<p>With a passionate desire for his safety, she had sacrificed herself in +order to atone for the material evil which she had done.</p> + +<p>But there was the wreck of his hopes and of his dreams!</p> + +<p>Never until now, when he had irretrievably lost her, did Déroulède +realise how great had been his hopes; how he had watched day after day +for a look in her eyes, a word from her lips, to show him that she too +—his unattainable saint—would one day come to earth, and respond to +his love.</p> + +<p>And now and then, when her beautiful face lighted up at sight of him, +when she smiled a greeting to him on his return from his work, when +she looked with pride and admiration on him from the public bench in +the assemblies of the Convention—then he had begun to hope, to +think, to dream.</p> + +<p>And it was all a sham! A mask to hide the terrible conflict that was +raging within her soul, nothing more.</p> + +<p>She did not love him, of that he felt convinced. Man like, he did not +understand to the full that great and wonderful enigma, which has +puzzled the world since primeval times: a woman's heart.</p> + +<p>The eternal contradictions which go to make up the complex nature of +an emotional woman were quite incomprehensible to him. Juliette had +betrayed him to serve her own sense of what was just and right, her +revenge and her oath. Therefore she did not love him.</p> + +<p>It was logic, sound common-sense, and, aided by his own diffidence +where women were concerned, it seemed to him irrefutable.</p> + +<p>To a man like Paul Déroulède, a man of thought, of purpose, and of +action, the idea of being false to the thing loved, of hate and love +being interchangeable, was absolutely foreign and unbelievable. He had +never hated the thing he loved or loved the thing he hated. A man's +feelings in these respects are so much less complex, so much less +contradictory.</p> + +<p>Would a man betray his friend? No—never. He might betray his +enemy, the creature he abhorred, whose downfall would cause him joy. +But his friend? The very idea was repugnant, impossible to an upright +nature.</p> + +<p>Juliette's ultimate access of generosity in trying to save him, when +she was at last brought face to face with the terrible wrong she had +committed, <i>that</i> he put down to one of those noble impulses of which +he knew her soul to be fully capable, and even then his own diffidence +suggested that she did it more for the sake of his mother or for Anne +Mie rather than for him.</p> + +<p>Therefore what mattered life to him now? She was lost to him for +ever, whether he succeeded in snatching her from the guillotine or +not. He had but little hope to save her, but he would not owe his life +to her.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie, seeing him wrapped in his own thoughts, had quietly +withdrawn. Her own good sense told her already that Paul Déroulède's +first step would be to try and get his mother out of danger, and out +of the country, while there was yet time.</p> + +<p>So, without waiting for instructions, she began that same evening to +pack up her belongings and those of Madame Déroulède.</p> + +<p>There was no longer any hatred in her heart against Juliette. Where +Paul Déroulède had failed to understand, there Anne Mie had already +made a guess. She firmly believed that nothing now could save Juliette +from death, and a great feeling of tenderness had crept into her +heart, for the woman whom she had looked upon as an enemy and a rival.</p> + +<p>She too had learnt in those brief days the great lesson that revenge +belongs to God alone.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /><br /> +The Cheval Borgne.</h3> + + +<p>It was close upon midnight.</p> + +<p>The place had become suffocatingly hot; the fumes of rank tobacco, of +rancid butter, and of raw spirits hung like a vapour in mid-air.</p> + +<p>The principal room in the "Auberge du Cheval Borgne" had been used for +the past five years now as the chief meeting-place of the +ultra-sansculotte party of the Republic.</p> + +<p>The house itself was squalid and dirty, up one of those mean streets +which, by their narrow way and shelving buildings, shut out sun, air, +and light from their miserable inhabitants.</p> + +<p>The Cheval Borgne was one of the most wretched-looking dwellings in +this street of evil repute. The plaster was cracked, the walls +themselves seemed bulging outward, preparatory to a final collapse. +The ceilings were low, and supported by beams black with age and dirt.</p> + +<p>At one time it had been celebrated for its vast cellarage, which had +contained some rare old wines. And in the days of the Grand Monarch +young bucks were wont to quit the gay salons of the ladies, in order +to repair to the Cheval Borgne for a night's carouse.</p> + +<p>In those days the vast cellarage was witness of many a dark encounter, +of many a mysterious death; could the slimy walls have told their own +tale, it would have been one which would have put to shame the wildest +chronicles of M. Vidoq.</p> + +<p>Now it was no longer so.</p> + +<p>Things were done in broad daylight on the Place de la Révolution: +there was no need for dark, mysterious cellars, in which to accomplish +deeds of murder and of revenge.</p> + +<p>Rats and vermin of all sorts worked their way now in the underground +portion of the building. They ate up each other, and held their orgies +in the cellars, whilst men did the same sort of thing in the rooms +above.</p> + +<p>It was a club of Equality and Fraternity. Any passer-by was at +liberty to enter and take part in the debates, his only qualification +for this temporary membership being an inordinate love for Madame la +Guillotine.</p> + +<p>It was from the sordid rooms of the Cheval Borgne that most of the +denunciations had gone forth which led but to the one inevitable +ending—death.</p> + +<p>They sat in conclave here, some twoscore or so at first, the rabid +patriots of this poor, downtrodden France. They talked of Liberty +mostly, with many oaths and curses against the tyrants, and then +started a tyranny, an autocracy, ten thousand times more awful than +any wielded by the dissolute Bourbons.</p> + +<p>And this was the temple of Liberty, this dark, damp, evil-smelling +brothel, with is narrow, cracked window-panes, which let in but an +infinitesimal fraction of air, and that of the foulest, most +unwholesome kind.</p> + +<p>The floor was of planks roughly put together; now they were +worm-eaten, bare, save for a thick carpet of greasy dust, which +deadened the sound of booted feet. The place only boasted of a couple +of chairs, both of which had to be propped against the wall lest they +should break, and bring the sitter down upon the floor; otherwise a +number of empty wine barrels did duty for seats, and rough deal boards +on broken trestles for tables.</p> + +<p>There had once been a paper on the walls, now it hung down in strips, +showing the cracked plaster beneath. The whole place had a tone of +yellowish-grey grime all over it, save where, in the centre of the +room, on a rough double post, shaped like the guillotine, a scarlet +cap of Liberty gave a note of lurid colour to the dismal surroundings.</p> + +<p>On the walls here and there the eternal device, so sublime in +conception, so sordid in execution, recalled the aims of the so-called +club: "Liberté, Fraternité, Egalité, sinon la Mort."</p> + +<p>Below the device, in one or two corners of the room, the wall was +further adorned with rough charcoal sketches, mostly of an obscene +character, the work of one of the members of the club, who had chosen +this means of degrading his art.</p> + +<p>To-night the assembly had been reduced to less than a score.</p> + +<p>Even according to the dictates of these apostles of Fraternity: <i>"la +guillotine va toujours"</i> —the guillotine goes on always. She had +become the most potent factor in the machinery of government, of this +great Revolution, and she had been daily, almost hourly fed through +the activity of this nameless club, which held its weird and awesome +sittings in the dank coffee-room of the Cheval Borgne.</p> + +<p>The number of the active members had been reduced. Like the rats in +the cellars below, they had done away with one another, swallowed one +another up, torn each other to pieces in this wild rage for a Utopian +fraternity.</p> + +<p>Marat, founder of the organisation, had been murdered by a girl's +hand; but Charon, Manuel, Osselin had gone the usual way, denounced by +their colleagues, Rabaut, Custine, Bison, who in their turn were sent +to the guillotine by those more powerful, perhaps more eloquent, than +themselves.</p> + +<p>It was merely a case of who could shout the loudest at an assembly of +the National Convention.</p> + +<p><i>"La guillotine va toujours!"</i> </p> + +<p>After the death of Marat, Merlin became the most prominent member of +the club—he and Foucquier-Tinville, his bosom friend, Public +Prosecutor, and the most bloodthirsty homicide of this homicidal age.</p> + +<p>Bosom friend both, yet they worked against one another, undermining +each other's popularity, whispering persistently, one against the +other: "He is a traitor!" It had become just a neck-to-neck race +between them towards the inevitable goal—the guillotine.</p> + +<p>Foucquier-Tinville is in the ascendant for the moment. Merlin had +been given a task which he had failed to accomplish. For days now, +weeks even, the debates of this noble assembly had been chiefly +concerned with the downfall of Citizen-Deputy Déroulède. His +popularity, his calm security in the midst of this reign of terror and +anarchy, had been a terrible thorn in the flesh of these rabid +Jacobins.</p> + +<p>And now the climax had been reached. An anonymous denunciation +had roused the hopes of these sanguinary patriots. It all sounded +perfectly plausible. To try and save that traitor, Marie Antoinette, +the widow of Louis Capet, was just the sort of scheme that would +originate in the brain of Paul Déroulède.</p> + +<p>He had always been at heart an aristocrat, and the feeling of chivalry +for a persecuted woman was only the outward signs of his secret +adherence to the hated class.</p> + +<p>Merlin had been sent to search the Deputy's house for proofs of the +latter's guilt.</p> + +<p>And Merlin had come back empty-handed.</p> + +<p>The arrest of a female aristo—the probable mistress of Déroulède, +who obviously had denounced him—was but small compensation for the +failure of the more important capture.</p> + +<p>As soon as Merlin joined his friends in the low, ill-lit, +evil-smelling room he realised at once that there was a feeling of +hostility against him.</p> + +<p>Tinville, enthroned on one of the few chairs of which the Cheval +Borgne could boast, was surrounded by a group of surly adherents.</p> + +<p>On the rough trestles a number of glasses, half filled with raw +potato-spirit, gave the keynote to the temper of the assembly.</p> + +<p>All those present were dressed in the black-shag spencer, the seedy +black breeches, and down-at-heel boots, which had become recognised as +the distinctive uniform of the sansculotte party. The inevitable +Phrygian cap, with its tricolour cockade, appeared on the heads of all +those present, in various stages of dirt and decay.</p> + +<p>Tinville had chosen to assume a sarcastic tone with regard to his +whilom bosom friend, Merlin. Leaning both elbows on the table, he was +picking his teeth with a steel fork, and in the intervals of his +interesting operation, gave forth his views on the broad principles of +patriotism.</p> + +<p>Those who sat round him felt that his star was in the ascendant and +assumed the position of satellites. Merlin as he entered had grunted a +sullen "Good-eve," and sat himself down in a remote corner of the +room.</p> + +<p>His greeting had been responded to with a few jeers and a good many +dark, threatening looks. Tinville himself had bowed to him with mock +sarcasm and an unpleasant leer.</p> + +<p>One of the patriots, a huge fellow, almost a giant, with heavy, coarse +fists and broad shoulders that obviously suggested coal-heaving, had, +after a few satirical observations, dragged one of the empty wine +barrels to Merlin's table, and sat down opposite him.</p> + +<p>"Take care, Citizen Lenoir," said Tinville, with an evil laugh, +"Citizen-Deputy Merlin will arrest you instead of Deputy Déroulède, +whom he has allowed to slip through his fingers."</p> + +<p>"Nay; I've no fear," replied Lenoir, with an oath. "Citizen Merlin is +too much of an aristo to hurt anyone; his hands are too clean; he does +not care to do the dirty work of the Republic. Isn't that so, Monsieur +Merlin?" added the giant, with a mock bow, and emphasising the +appellation which had fallen into complete disuse in these days of +equality.</p> + +<p>"My patriotism is too well known," said Merlin roughly, "to fear any +attacks from jealous enemies; and as for my search in the +Citizen-Deputy's house this afternoon, I was told to find proofs +against him, and I found none."</p> + +<p>Lenoir expectorated on the floor, crossed his dark hairy arms over the +table, and said quietly:</p> + +<p>"Real patriotism, as the true Jacobin understands it, makes the proofs +it wants and leaves nothing to chance."</p> + +<p>A chorus of hoarse murmurs of "Vive la Liberté!" greeted this harangue +of the burly coal-heaver.</p> + +<p>Feeling that he had gained the ear and approval of the gallery, Lenoir +seemed, as it were, to spread himself out, to arrogate to himself the +leadership of this band of malcontents, who, disappointed in their +lust of Déroulède's downfall, were ready to exult over that of Merlin.</p> + +<p>"You were a fool, Citizen Merlin," said Lenoir with slow significance, +"not to see that the woman was playing her own game."</p> + +<p>Merlin had become livid under the grime on his face. With this +ill-kempt sansculotte giant in front of him, he almost felt as if he +were already arraigned before that awful, merciless tribunal, to which +he had dragged so many innocent victims.</p> + +<p>Already he felt, as he sat ensconced behind a table in the far corner +of the room, that he was a prisoner at the bar, answering for his +failure with his life.</p> + +<p>His own laws, his own theories now stood in bloody array against him. +Was it not he who had framed the indictments against General Custine +for having failed to subdue the cities of the south? against General +Westerman and Brunet and Beauharnais for having failed and failed and +failed?</p> + +<p>And now it was his turn.</p> + +<p>These bloodthirsty jackals had been cheated of their prey; they would +tear him to pieces in compensation of their loss.</p> + +<p>"How could I tell?" he murmured roughly, "the woman had denounced +him."</p> + +<p>A chorus of angry derision greeted this feeble attempt at defence.</p> + +<p>"By your own law, Citizen-Deputy Merlin," commented Tinville +sarcastically, "it is a crime against the Republic to be suspected of +treason. It is evident, however, that it is quite one thing to frame a +law and quite another to obey it."</p> + +<p>"What could I have done?"</p> + +<p>"Hark at the innocent!" rejoined Lenoir, with a sneer. "What could he +have done? Patriots, friends, brothers, I ask you, what could he have +done?"</p> + +<p>The giant had pushed the wine cask aside, it rolled away from under +him, and in the fulness of his contempt for Merlin and his impotence, +he stood up before them all, strong in his indictment against +treasonable incapacity.</p> + +<p>"I ask you," he repeated, with a loud oath, "what any patriot would +do, what you or I would have done, in the house of a man whom we all +<i>know</i> is a traitor to the Republic? Brothers, friends, Citizen-Deputy +Merlin found a heap of burnt paper in a grate, he found a letter-case +which had obviously contained important documents, and he asks us what +he could do!"</p> + +<p>"Déroulède is too important a man to be tried without proofs. The +whole mob of Paris would have turned on us for having arraigned him, +for having dared lay hands upon his sacred person."</p> + +<p>"Without proofs? Who said there were no proofs?" queried Lenoir.</p> + +<p>"I found the burnt papers and torn letter-case in the woman's room. +She owned that they were love letters, and that she had denounced +Déroulède in order to be rid of him."</p> + +<p>"Then let me tell you, Citizen-Deputy Merlin, that a true patriot +would have found those papers in Déroulède's, and not the woman's +room; that in the hands of a faithful servant of the Republic those +documents would not all have been destroyed, for he would have 'found' +one letter addressed to the Widow Capet, which would have proved +conclusively that Citizen-Deputy Déroulède was a traitor. That is what +a true patriot would have done—what I would have done. <i>Pardi!</i> +since Déroulède is so important a personage, since we must all put on +kid gloves when we lay hands upon him, then let us fight him with +other weapons. Are we aristocrats that we should hesitate to play the +part of jackal to this cunning fox? Citizen-Deputy Merlin, are you the +son of some ci-devant duke or prince that you dared not <i>forge</i> a +document which would bring a traitor to his doom? Nay; let me tell +you, friends, that the Republic has no use for curs, and calls him a +traitor who allows one of her enemies to remain inviolate through his +cowardice, his terror of that intangible and fleeting shadow—the +wrath of a Paris mob."</p> + +<p>Thunderous applause greeted this peroration, which had been delivered +with an accompaniment of violent gestures and a wealth of obscene +epithets, quite beyond the power of the mere chronicler to render. +Lenoir had a harsh, strident voice, very high pitched, and he spoke +with a broad, provincial accent, somewhat difficult to locate, but +quite unlike the hoarse, guttural tones of the low-class Parisian. His +enthusiasm made him seem impressive. He looked, in his ragged, +dust-stained clothes, the very personification of the squalid herd +which had driven culture, art, refinement to the scaffold in order to +make way for sordid vice, and satisfied lusts of hate.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /><br /> +A Jacobin orator.</h3> + + +<p>Tinville alone had remained silent during Lenoir's impassioned +speech. It seemed to be his turn now to become surly. He sat picking +his teeth, and staring moodily at the enthusiastic orator, who had so +obviously diverted popular feeling in his own direction. And Tinville +brooked popularity only for himself.</p> + +<p>"It is easy to talk now, Citizen—er—Lenoir. Is that your name? +Well, you are a comparative stranger here, Citizen Lenoir, and have +not yet proved to the Republic that you can do ought else but talk."</p> + +<p>"If somebody did not talk, Citizen Tinville—is that your name?" +rejoined Lenoir, with a sneer—"if somebody didn't talk, nothing +would get done. You all sit here, and condemn the Citizen-Deputy +Merlin for being a fool, and I must say I am with you there, but ..."</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardi!</i> tell us your 'but' citizen," said Tinville, for the +coal-heaver had paused, as if trying to collect his thoughts. He had +dragged a wine barrel to collect his thoughts. He had dragged a wine +barrel close to the trestle table, and now sat astride upon it, facing +Tinville and the group of Jacobins. The flickering tallow candle +behind him threw into bold silhouette his square, massive head, +crowned with its Phrygian cap, and the great breadth of his shoulders, +with the shabby knitted spencer and low, turned-down collar.</p> + +<p>He had long, thin hands, which were covered with successive coats of +coal dust, and with these he constantly made weird gestures, as if in +the act of gripping some live thing by the throat.</p> + +<p>"We all know that the Deputy Déroulède is a traitor, eh?" he said, +addressing the company in general.</p> + +<p>"We do," came with uniform assent from all those present.</p> + +<p>"Then let us put it to the vote. The Ayes mean death, the Noes +freedom."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay!" came from every hoarse, parched throat; and twelve gaunt +hands were lifted up demanding death for Citizen-Deputy Déroulède.</p> + +<p>"The Ayes have it," said Lenoir quietly, "Now all we need do is to +decide how best to carry out our purpose."</p> + +<p>Merlin, very agreeably surprised to see public attention thus diverted +from his own misdeeds, had gradually lost his surly attitude. He too +dragged one of the wine barrels, which did duty for chairs, close to +the trestle table, and thus the members of the nameless Jacobin club +made a compact group, picturesque in its weird horror, its +uncompromising, flaunting ugliness.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," said Tinville, who was loth to give up his position as +leader of these extremists—"I suppose, Citizen Lenoir, that you are +in position to furnish me with proofs of the Citizen-Deputy's guilt?"</p> + +<p>"If I furnish you with such proofs, Citizen Tinville," retorted the +other, "will you, as Public Prosecutor, carry the indictment through?"</p> + +<p>"It is my duty to publicly accuse those who are traitors to the +Republic."</p> + +<p>"And you, Citizen Merlin," queried Lenoir, "will you help the Republic +to the best of your ability to be rid of a traitor?"</p> + +<p>"My services to the cause of our great Revolution are too well known +-" began Merlin.</p> + +<p>But Lenoir interrupted him with impatience.</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardi!</i> but we'll have no rhetoric now, Citizen Merlin. We all know +that you have blundered, and that the Republic cares little for those +of her sons who have failed, but whilst you are still Minister of +Justice the people of France have need of you—for bringing <i>other</i> +traitors to the guillotine."</p> + +<p>He spoke this last phrase slowly and significantly, lingering on the +word "other," as if he wished its whole awesome meaning to penetrate +well into Merlin's brain.</p> + +<p>"What is your advice then, Citizen Lenoir?"</p> + +<p>Apparently, by unanimous consent, the coalheaver, from some obscure +province of France, had been tacitly acknowledged the leader of the +band. Merlin, still in terror for himself, looked to him for advice; +even Tinville was ready to be guided by him. All were at one in their +desire to rid themselves of Déroulède, who by his clean living, his +aloofness from their own hideous orgies and deadly hates, seemed a +living reproach to them all; and they all felt that in Lenoir there +must exist some secret dislike of the popular Citizen-Deputy, which +would give him a clear insight of how best to bring about his +downfall.</p> + +<p>"What is your advice?" had been Merlin's query, and everyone there +listened eagerly for what was to come.</p> + +<p>"We are all agreed," commenced Lenoir quietly, "that just at this +moment it would be unwise to arraign the Citizen-Deputy without +material proof. The mob of Paris worship him, and would turn against +those who had tried to dethrone their idol. Now, Citizen Merlin failed +to furnish us with proofs of Déroulède's guilt. For the moment he is a +free man, and I imagine a wise one; within two days he will have +quitted this country, well knowing that, if he stayed long enough to +see his popularity wane, he would also outstay his welcome on earth +altogether."</p> + +<p>"Ay! Ay!" said some of the men approvingly, whilst others laughed +hoarsely at the weird jest.</p> + +<p>"I propose, therefore," continued Lenoir after a slight pause, "that +it shall be Citizen-Deputy Déroulède himself who shall furnish to the +people of France proofs of his own treason against the Republic."</p> + +<p>"But how? But how?" rapid, loud and excited queries greeted this +extraordinary suggestion from the provincial giant.</p> + +<p>"By the simplest means imaginable," retorted Lenoir with imperturbable +calm. "Isn't there a good proverb which our grandmothers used to +quote, that if you only give a man a sufficient length of rope, he is +sure to hang himself? We'll give our aristocratic Citizen-Deputy +plenty of rope, I'll warrant, if only our present Minister of +Justice," he added, indicating Merlin, "will help us in the little +comedy which I propose that we should play."</p> + +<p>"Yes! Yes! Go on!" said Merlin excitedly.</p> + +<p>"The woman who denounced Déroulède—that is our trump card," +continued Lenoir, now waxing enthusiastic with his own scheme and his +own eloquence. "She denounced him. Ergo, he had been her lover, whom +she wished to be rid of—why? Not, as Citizen Merlin supposed, +because he had discarded her. No, no; she had another lover—she has +admitted that. She wished to be rid of Déroulède to make way for the +other, because he was too persistent—ergo, because he loved her."</p> + +<p>"Well, and what does that prove?" queried Tinville with dry sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"It proves that Déroulède, being in love with the woman, would do much +to save her from the guillotine."</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardi!</i> let him try, say I," rejoined Lenoir placidly. "Give him +the rope with which to hang himself."</p> + +<p>"What does he mean?" asked one or two of the men, whose dull brains +had not quite as yet grasped the full meaning of this monstrous +scheme.</p> + +<p>"You don't understand what I mean, citizens; you think I am mad, or +drunk, or a traitor like Déroulède? <i>Eh bien!</i> give me your attention +five minutes longer, and you shall see. Let me suppose that we have +reached the moment when the woman—what is her name? Oh! ah! yes! +Juliette Marny—stands in the Hall of Justice on her trial before the +Committee of Public Safety. Citizen Foucquier-Tinville, one of our +greatest patriots, reads the indictment against her: the papers +surreptitiously burnt, the torn, mysterious letter-case found in her +room. If these are presumed, in the indictment, to be treasonable +correspondence with the enemies of the Republic, condemnation follows +at once, then the guillotine. There is no defence, no respite. The +Minister of Justice, according to Article IX of the Law framed by +himself, allows no advocate to those directly accused of treason. +But," continued the giant, with slow and calm impressiveness, "in the +case of ordinary, civil indictments, offences against public morality +or matters pertaining to the penal code, the Minister of Justice +allows the accused to be publicly defended. Place Juliette Marny in +the dock on a treasonable charge, she will be hustled out of the court +in a few minutes, amongst a batch of other traitors, dragged back to +her own prison, and executed in the early dawn, before Déroulède has +had time to frame a plan for her safety or defence. If, then, he tries +to move heaven and earth to rescue the woman he loves, the mob of +Paris may,—who knows?—take his part warmly. They are mad where +Déroulède is concerned; and we all know that two devoted lovers have +ere now found favour with the people of France—a curious remnant of +sentimentalism, I suppose—and the popular Citizen-Deputy knows +better than anyone else on earth, how to play upon the sentimental +feelings of the populace. Now, in the case of a penal offence, mark +where the difference would be! The woman Juliette Marny, arraigned for +wantonness, for an offence against public morals; the burnt +correspondence, admitted to be the letters of a lover—her hatred for +Déroulède suggesting the false denunciation. Then the Minister of +Justice allows an advocate to defend her. She has none in court; but +think you Déroulède would not step forward, and bring all the fervour +of his eloquence to bear in favour of his mistress? Can you hear his +impassioned speech on her behalf?—I can—the rope, I tell you, +citizens, with which he'll hang himself. Will he admit in open court +that the burnt correspondence was another lover's letters? No!—a +thousand times no!—and, in the face of his emphatic denial of the +existence of another lover for Juliette, it will be for our clever +Public Prosecutor to bring him down to an admission that the +correspondence was his, that it was treasonable, that she burnt them +to save him."</p> + +<p>He paused, exhausted at last, mopping his forehead, then drinking +large gulps of brandy to ease his parched throat.</p> + +<p>A veritable chorus of enthusiasm greeted the end of his long +peroration. The Machiavelian scheme, almost devilish in its cunning, +in its subtle knowledge of human nature and of the heart-strings of a +noble organisation like Déroulède's, commended itself to these +patriots, who were thirsting for the downfall of a superior enemy.</p> + +<p>Even Tinville lost his attitude of dry sarcasm; his thin cheeks were +glowing with the lust of the fight.</p> + +<p>Already for the past few months, the trials before the Committee of +Public Safety had been dull, monotonous, uninteresting. Charlotte +Corday had been a happy diversion, but otherwise it had been the case +of various deputies, who had held views that had become too moderate, +or of the generals who had failed to subdue the towns or provinces of +the south.</p> + +<p>But now this trial on the morrow—the excitement of it all, the trap +laid for Déroulède, the pleasure of seeing him take the first step +towards his own downfall. Everyone there was eager and enthusiastic +for the fray. Lenoir, having spoken at such length, had now become +silent, but everyone else talked, and drank brandy, and hugged his own +hate and likely triumph.</p> + +<p>For several hours, far into the night, the sitting was continued. +Each one of the score of members had some comment to make on Lenoir's +speech, some suggestion to offer.</p> + +<p>Lenoir himself was the first to break up this weird gathering of human +jackals, already exulting over their prey. He bad his companions a +quiet good-night, then passed out into the dark street.</p> + +<p>After he had gone there were a few seconds of complete silence in the +dark and sordid room, where men's ugliest passions were holding +absolute sway. The giant's heavy footsteps echoed along the ill-paved +street, and gradually died away in the distance.</p> + +<p>Then at last Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Prosecutor, spoke:</p> + +<p>"And who is that man?" he asked, addressing the assembly of patriots.</p> + +<p>Most of them did not know.</p> + +<p>"A provincial from the north," said one of the men at last; "he has +been here several times before now, and last year he was a fairly +constant attendant. I believe he is a butcher by trade, and I fancy he +comes from Calais. He was originally brought here by Citizen Brogard, +who is good patriot enough."</p> + +<p>One by one the members of this bond of Fraternity began to file out of +the Cheval Borgne. They nodded curt good-nights to each other, and +then went to their respective abodes, which surely could not be +dignified with the name of home.</p> + +<p>Tinville remained one of the last; he and Merlin seemed suddenly to +have buried the hatchet, which a few hours ago had threatened to +destroy one or the other of these whilom bosom friends.</p> + +<p>Two or three of the most ardent of these ardent extremists had +gathered round the Public Prosecutor, and Merlin, the framer of the +Law of the Suspect.</p> + +<p>"What say you, citizens?" said Tinville at last quietly. "That man +Lenoir, meseems, is too eloquent—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Dangerous," pronounced Merlin, whilst the others nodded approval.</p> + +<p>"But his scheme is good," suggested one of the men.</p> + +<p>"And we'll avail ourselves of it," assented Tinville, "but +afterwards ..."</p> + +<p>He paused, and once more everyone nodded approval.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is dangerous. We'll leave him in peace to-morrow, but +afterwards ..."</p> + +<p>With a gentle hand Tinville caressed the tall double post, which stood +in the centre of the room, and which was shaped like the guillotine. +An evil look was on his face: the grin of a death-dealing monster, +savage and envious. The others laughed in grim content. Merlin grunted +a surly approval. He had no cause to love the provincial coal-heaver +who had raised a raucous voice to threaten him.</p> + +<p>Then, nodding to one another, the last of the patriots, satisfied with +this night's work, passed out into the night.</p> + +<p>The watchman was making his rounds, carrying his lantern, and shouting +his customary cry:</p> + +<p>"Inhabitants of Paris, sleep quietly. Everything is in order, +everything is at peace."</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /><br /> +The close of day.</h3> + + +<p>Déroulède had spent the whole of this same night in a wild, +impassioned search for Juliette.</p> + +<p>Earlier in the day, soon after Anne Mie's revelations, he had sought +out his English friend, Sir Percy Blakeney, and talked over with him +the final arrangements for the removal of Madame Déroulède and Anne +Mie from Paris.</p> + +<p>Though he was a born idealist and a Utopian, Paul Déroulède had never +for a moment had any illusions with regard to his own popularity. He +knew that at any time, and for any trivial cause, the love which the +mob bore him would readily turn to hate. He had seen Mirabeau's +popularity wane, La Fayette's, Desmoulin's—was it likely that <i>he</i> +alone would survive the inevitable death of so ephemeral a thing?</p> + +<p>Therefore, whilst he was in power, whilst he was loved and trusted, he +had, figuratively and actually, put his house in order. He had made +full preparations for his own inevitable downfall, for that probable +flight from Paris of those who were dependent upon him.</p> + +<p>He had, as far back as a year ago, provided himself with the necessary +passports, and bespoken with his English friend certain measures for +the safety of his mother and his crippled little relative. Now it was +merely a question of putting these measures into execution.</p> + +<p>Within two hours of Juliette Marny's arrest, Madame Déroulède and Anne +Mie had quitted the house in the Rue Ecole de Médecine. They had but +little luggage with them, and were ostensibly going into the country +to visit a sick cousin.</p> + +<p>The mother of the popular Citizen-Deputy was free to travel +unmolested. The necessary passports which the safety of the Republic +demanded were all in perfect order, and Madame Déroulède and Anne Mie +passed through the north gate of Paris an hour before sunset, on that +24th day of Fructidor.</p> + +<p>Their large travelling chaise took them some distance on the North +Road, where they were to meet Lord Hastings and Lord Anthony Dewhurst, +two of The Scarlet Pimpernel's most trusted lieutenants, who were to +escort them as far as the coast, and thence see them safely aboard the +English yacht.</p> + +<p>On that score, therefore, Déroulède had no anxiety. His chief duty +was to his mother and to Anne Mie, and that was now fully discharged.</p> + +<p>Then there was old Pétronelle.</p> + +<p>Ever since the arrest of her young mistress the poor old soul had been +in a state of mind bordering on frenzy, and no amount of eloquence on +Déroulède's part would persuade her to quit Paris without Juliette.</p> + +<p>"If my pet lamb is to die," she said amidst heart-broken sobs, "then I +have no cause to live. Let those devils take me along too, if they +want a useless, old woman like me. But if my darling is allowed to go +free, then what would become of her in this awful city without me? She +and I have never been separated; she wouldn't know where to turn for a +home. And who would cook for her and iron out her kerchiefs, I'd like +to know?"</p> + +<p>Reason and common sense were, of course, powerless in face of this +sublime and heroic childishness. No one had the heart to tell the old +woman that the murderous dog of the Revolution seldom loosened its +fangs, once they had closed upon a victim.</p> + +<p>All Déroulède could do was to convey Pétronelle to the old abode, +which Juliette had quitted in order to come to him, and which had +never been formally given up. The worthy soul, calmed and refreshed, +deluded herself into the idea that she was waiting for the return of +her young mistress, and became quite cheerful at sight of the familiar +room.</p> + +<p>Déroulède had provided her with money and necessaries. He had but few +remaining hopes in his heart, but among them was the firmly implanted +one that Pétronelle was too insignificant to draw upon herself the +terrible attention of the Committee of Public Safety.</p> + +<p>By the nightfall he had seen the good woman safely installed. Then +only did he feel free.</p> + +<p>At last he could devote himself to what seemed to him the one, the +only, aim of his life—to find Juliette.</p> + +<p>A dozen prisons in this vast Paris!</p> + +<p>Over five thousand prisoners on that night, awaiting trial, +condemnation and death.</p> + +<p>Déroulède at first, strong in his own power, his personality, had +thought that the task would be comparatively easy.</p> + +<p>At the Palais de Justice they would tell him nothing: the list of new +arrests had not yet been handled in by the commandant of Paris, +Citizen Santerre, who classified and docketed the miserable herd of +aspirants for the next day's guillotine.</p> + +<p>The lists, moreover, would not be completed until the next day, when +the trials of the new prisoners would already be imminent.</p> + +<p>The work of the Committee of Public Safety was done without much +delay.</p> + +<p>Then began Déroulède's weary quest through those twelve prisons of +Paris. From the Temple to the Conciergerie, from Palais Condé to the +Luxembourg, he spent hours in the fruitless search.</p> + +<p>Everywhere the same shrug of the shoulders, the same indifferent reply +to his eager query:</p> + +<p>"Juliette Marny? <i>Inconnue.</i> "</p> + +<p>Unknown! She had not yet been docketed, not yet classified; she was +still one of that immense flock of cattle, sent in ever-increasing +numbers to the slaughter-house.</p> + +<p>Presently, to-morrow, after a trial which might last ten minutes, +after a hasty condemnation and quick return to prison, she would be +listed as one of the traitors, whom this great and beneficent Republic +sent daily to the guillotine.</p> + +<p>Vainly did Déroulède try to persuade, to entreat, to bribe. The +sullen guardians of these twelve charnel-houses knew nothing of +individual prisoners.</p> + +<p>But the Citizen-Deputy was allowed to look for himself. He was +conducted to the great vaulted rooms of the Temple, to the vast +ballrooms of the Palais Condé, where herded the condemned and those +still awaiting trial; he was allowed to witness there the grim +farcical tragedies, with which the captives beguiled the few hours +which separated them from death.</p> + +<p>Mock trials were acted there; Tinville was mimicked; then the Place de +la Révolution; Samson the headsman, with a couple of inverted chairs +to represent the guillotine.</p> + +<p>Daughters of dukes and princes, descendants of ancient lineage, acted +in these weird and ghastly comedies. The ladies, with hair bound high +over their heads, would kneel before the inverted chairs, and place +the snowwhite necks beneath this imaginary guillotine. Speeches were +delivered to a mock populace, whilst a mock Santerre ordered a mock +roll of drums to drown the last flow of eloquence of the supposed +victim.</p> + +<p>Oh! the horror of it all—the pity, pathos, and misery of this +ghastly parody, in the very face of the sublimity of death!</p> + +<p>Déroulède shuddered when first he beheld the scene, shuddered at the +very thought of finding Juliette amongst these careless, laughing, +thoughtless mimes.</p> + +<p>His own, his beautiful Juliette, with her proud face and majestic, +queen-like gestures; it was a relief not to see her there.</p> + +<p>"Juliette Marny? <i>Inconnue,</i> " was the final word he heard about her.</p> + +<p>No one told him that by Deputy Merlin's strictest orders she had been +labelled "dangerous," and placed in a remote wing of the Luxembourg +Palace, together with a few, who, like herself, were allowed to see no +one, communicate with no one.</p> + +<p>Then when the <i>couvre-feu</i> had sounded, when all public places were +closed, when the night watchman had begun his rounds, Déroulède knew +that his quest for that night must remain fruitless.</p> + +<p>But he could not rest. In and out the tortuous streets of Paris he +roamed during the better part of that night. He was now only awaiting +the dawn to publicly demand the right to stand beside Juliette.</p> + +<p>A hopeless misery was in his heart, a longing for a cessation of life; +only one thing kept his brain active, his mind clear: the hope of +saving Juliette.</p> + +<p>The dawn was breaking in the far east when, wandering along the banks +of the river, he suddenly felt a touch on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Come to my hovel," said a pleasant, lazy voice close to his ear, +whilst a kindly hand seemed to drag him away from the contemplation of +the dark, silent river. "And a demmed, beastly place it is too, but at +least we can talk quietly there."</p> + +<p>Déroulède, roused from his meditation, looked up, to see his friend, +Sir Percy Blakeney, standing close beside him. Tall, débonnair, +well-dressed, he seemed by his very presence to dissipate the morbid +atmosphere which was beginning to weigh upon Déroulède's active mind.</p> + +<p>Déroulède followed him readily enough through the intricate mazes of +old Paris, and down the Rue des Arts, until Sir Percy stopped outside +a small hostelry, the door of which stood wide open.</p> + +<p>"Mine host has nothing to lose from footpads and thieves," explained +the Englishman as he guided his friend through the narrow doorway, +then up a flight of rickety stairs, to a small room on the floor +above. "He leaves all doors open for anyone to walk in, but, la! the +interior of the house looks so uninviting that no one is tempted to +enter."</p> + +<p>"I wonder you care to stay here," remarked Déroulède, with a momentary +smile, as he contrasted in his mind the fastidious appearance of his +friend with the dinginess and dirt of these surroundings.</p> + +<p>Sir Percy deposited his large person in the capacious depths of a +creaky chair, stretched his long limbs out before him, and said +quietly:</p> + +<p>"I am only staying in this demmed hole until the moment when I can +drag you out of this murderous city."</p> + +<p>Déroulède shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You'd best go back to England, then," he said, "for I'll never leave +Paris now."</p> + +<p>"Not without Juliette Marny, shall we say?" rejoined Sir Percy +placidly.</p> + +<p>"And I fear me that she has placed herself beyond our reach," said +Déroulède sombrely.</p> + +<p>"You know that she is in the Luxembourg Prison?" queried the +Englishman suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I guessed it, but could find no proof."</p> + +<p>"And that she will be tried to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"They never keep a prisoner pining too long," replied Déroulède +bitterly. "I guessed that too."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean to do?"</p> + +<p>"Defend her with the last breath in my body."</p> + +<p>"You love her still, then?" asked Blakeney, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Still?" The look, the accent, the agony of a hopeless passion +conveyed in that one word, told Sir Percy Blakeney all that he wished +to know.</p> + +<p>"Yet she betrayed you," he said tentatively.</p> + +<p>"And to atone for that sin—an oath, mind you, friend, sworn to her +father—she is already to give her life for me."</p> + +<p>"And you are prepared to forgive?"</p> + +<p>"To understand <i>is</i> to forgive," rejoined Déroulède simply, "and I +love her."</p> + +<p>"Your madonna!" said Blakeney, with a gently ironical smile.</p> + +<p>"No; the woman I love, with all her weaknesses, all her sins; the +woman to gain whom I would give my soul, to save whom I will give my +life."</p> + +<p>"And she?"</p> + +<p>"She does not love me—would she have betrayed me else?"</p> + +<p>He sat beside the table, and buried his head in his hands. Not even +his dearest friend should see how much he had suffered, how deeply his +love had been wounded.</p> + +<p>Sir Percy said nothing, a curious, pleasant smile lurked round the +corners of his mobile mouth. Through his mind there flitted the vision +of beautiful Marguerite, who had so much loved yet so deeply wronged +him, and, looking at his friend, he thought that Déroulède too would +soon learn all the contradictions, which wage a constant war in the +innermost recesses of a feminine heart.</p> + +<p>He made a movement as if he would say something more, something of +grave import, then seemed to think better of it, and shrugged his +broad shoulders, as if to say:</p> + +<p>"Let time and chance take their course now."</p> + +<p>When Déroulède looked up again Sir Percy was sitting placidly in the +arm-chair, with an absolutely blank expression on his face.</p> + +<p>"Now that you know how much I love her, my friend," said Déroulède as +soon as he had mastered his emotions, "will you look after her when +they have condemned me, and save her for my sake?"</p> + +<p>A curious, enigmatic smile suddenly illumined Sir Percy's earnest +countenance.</p> + +<p>"Save her? Do you attribute supernatural powers to me, then, or to +The League of The Scarlet Pimpernel?"</p> + +<p>"To you, I think," rejoined Déroulède seriously.</p> + +<p>Once more it seemed as if Sir Percy were about to reveal something of +great importance to his friend, then once more he checked himself. The +Scarlet Pimpernel was, above all, far-seeing and practical, a man of +action and not of impulse. The glowing eyes of his friend, his +nervous, febrile movements, did not suggest that he was in a fit state +to be entrusted with plans, the success of which hung on a mere +thread.</p> + +<p>Therefore Sir Percy only smiled, and said quietly:</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll do my best."</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /><br /> +Justice.</h3> + + +<p>The day had been an unusually busy one.</p> + +<p>Five and thirty prisoners, arraigned before the bar of the Committee +of Public Safety, had been tried in the last eight hours—an average +of rather more than four to the hour; twelve minutes and a half in +which to send a human creature, full of life and health, to solve the +great enigma which lies hidden beyond the waters of the Styx.</p> + +<p>And Citizen-Deputy Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Prosecutor, had +surpassed himself. He seemed indefatigable.</p> + +<p>Each of these five and thirty prisoners had been arraigned for treason +against the Republic, for conspiracy with her enemies, and all had to +have irrefutable proofs of their guilt brought before the Committee of +Public Safety. Sometimes a few letters, written to friends abroad, and +seized at the frontier; a word of condemnation of the measures of the +extremists; and expression of horror at the massacres on the Place de +la Révolution, where the guillotine creaked incessantly—these were +irrefutable proofs; or else perhaps a couple of pistols, or an old +family sword seized in the house of a peaceful citizen, would be +brought against a prisoner, as an irrefutable proof of his warlike +dispositions against the Republic.</p> + +<p>Oh! it was not difficult!</p> + +<p>Out of five and thirty indictments, Foucquier-Tinville had obtained +thirty convictions.</p> + +<p>No wonder his friends declared that he had surpassed himself. It had +indeed been a glorious day, and the glow of satisfaction as much as +the heat, caused the Public Prosecutors to mop his high, bony cranium +before he had adjourned for the much-needed respite for refreshment.</p> + +<p>The day's work was not yet done.</p> + +<p>The "politicals" had been disposed of, and there had been such an +accumulation of them recently that it was difficult to keep pace with +the arrests.</p> + +<p>And in the meanwhile the criminal record of the great city had not +diminished. Because men butchered one another in the name of Equality, +there were none the fewer among the Fraternity of thieves and petty +pilferers, of ordinary cut-throats and public wantons.</p> + +<p>And these too had to be dealt with by law. The guillotine was +impartial, and fell with equal velocity on the neck of the proud duke +and the gutter-born <i>fille de joie,</i> on a descendant of the Bourbons +and the wastrel born in a brothel.</p> + +<p>The ministerial decrees favoured the proletariat. A crime against the +Republic was indefensible, but one against the individual was dealt +with, with all the paraphernalia of an elaborate administration of +justice. There were citizen judges and citizen advocates, and the +rabble, who crowded in to listen to the trials, acted as honorary +jury.</p> + +<p>It was all thoroughly well done. The citizen criminals were given +every chance.</p> + +<p>The afternoon of this hot August day, one of the last of glorious +Fructidor, had begun to wane, and the shades of evening to slowly +creep into the long, bare room where this travesty of justice was +being administered.</p> + +<p>The Citizen-President sat at the extreme end of the room, on a rough +wooden bench, with a desk in front of him littered with papers.</p> + +<p>Just above him, on the bare, whitewashed wall, the words: "<i>La +République: une et indivisible,</i> " and below them the device: "<i>Liberté, +Egalité, Fraternité!</i> "</p> + +<p>To the right and left of the Citizen-President, four clerks were busy +making entries in that ponderous ledger, that amazing record of the +foulest crimes the world has ever known, the "<i>Bulletin du Tribunal +Révolutionnaire.</i> "</p> + +<p>At present no one is speaking, and the grating of the clerks' quill +pens against the paper is the only sound which disturbs the silence of +the hall.</p> + +<p>In front of the President, on a bench lower than his, sits Citizen +Foucquier-Tinville, rested and refreshed, ready to take up his +occupation, for as many hours as his country demands it of him.</p> + +<p>On every desk a tallow candle, smoking and spluttering, throws a weird +light, and more weird shadows, on the faces of clerks and President, +on blank walls and ominous devices.</p> + +<p>In the centre of the room a platform surrounded by an iron railing is +ready for the accused. Just in front of it, from the tall, raftered +ceiling above, there hangs a small brass lamp, with a green +<i>abat-jour.</i> </p> + +<p>Each side of the long, whitewashed walls there are three rows of +benches, beautiful old carved oak pews, snatched from Notre Dame and +from the Churches of St Eustache and St Germain l'Auxerrois. Instead +of the pious worshippers of mediaeval times, they now accommodate the +lookers-on of the grim spectacle of unfortunates, in their brief halt +before the scaffold.</p> + +<p>The front row of these benches is reserved for those citizen-deputies +who desire to be present at the debates of the Tribunal +Révolutionnaire. It is their privilege, almost their duty, as +representatives of the people, to see that the sittings are properly +conducted.</p> + +<p>These benches are already well filled. At one end, on the left, +Citizen Merlin, Minister of Justice, sits; next to him +Citizen-Minister Lebrun; also Citizen Robespierre, still in the height +of his ascendancy, and watching the proceedings with those pale, +watery eyes of his and that curious, disdainful smile, which have +earned for him the nickname of "the sea-green incorruptible."</p> + +<p>Other well-known faces are there also, dimly outlined in the +fast-gathering gloom. But everyone notes Citizen-Deputy Déroulède, the +idol of the people, as he sits on the extreme end of a bench on the +right, with arms tightly folded across his chest, the light from the +hanging lamp falling straight on his dark head and proud, straight +brows, with the large, restless, eager eyes.</p> + +<p>Anon the Citizen-President rings a hand-bell, and there is a +discordant noise of hoarse laughter and loud curses, some pushing, +jolting, and swearing, as the general public is admitted into the +hall.</p> + +<p>Heaven save us! What a rabble! +Has humanity really such a scum?</p> + +<p>Women with a single ragged kirtle and shift, through the interstices +of which the naked, grime-covered flesh shows shamelessly: with bare +legs, and feet thrust into heavy sabots, hair dishevelled, and evil, +spirit-sodden faces: women without a semblance of womanhood, with +shrivelled, barren breasts, and dry, parched lips, that have never +known how to kiss. Women without emotion save that of hate, without +desire, save for the satisfaction of hunger and thirst, and lust for +revenge against their sisters less wretched, less unsexed than +themselves. They crowd in, jostling one another, swarming into the +front rows of the benches, where they can get a better view of the +miserable victims about to be pilloried before them.</p> + +<p>And the men without a semblance of manhood. Bent under the heavy care +of their own degradation, dead to pity, to love, to chivalry; dead to +all save an inordinate longing for the sight of blood.</p> + +<p>And God help them all! for there were the children too. Children— +save the mark!—with pallid, precocious little faces, pinched with +the ravages of starvation, gazing with dim, filmy eyes on this world +of rapacity and hideousness. Children who have seen death!</p> + +<p>Oh, the horror of it! Not beautiful, peaceful death, a slumber or a +dream, a loved parent or fond sister or brother lying all in white +amidst a wealth of flowers, but death in its most awesome aspect, +violent, lurid, horrible.</p> + +<p>And now they stare around them with eager, greedy eyes, awaiting the +amusement of the spectacle; gazing at the President, with his tall +Phrygian cap; at the clerks wielding their indefatigable quill pens, +writing, writing, writing; at the flickering lights, throwing clouds +of sooty smoke, up to the dark ceiling above.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the eyes of one little mite—a poor, tiny midget not +yet in her teens—alight on Paul Déroulède's face, on the opposite +side of the rooms.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tiens!</i> Papa Déroulède!" she says, pointing an attenuated little +finger across at him, and turning eagerly to those around her, her +eyes dilating in wishful recollection of a happy afternoon spent in +Papa Déroulède's house, with fine white bread to eat in plenty, and +great jars of foaming milk.</p> + +<p>He rouses himself from his apathy, and his great earnest eyes lose +their look of agonised misery, as he responds to the greeting of the +little one.</p> + +<p>For one moment—oh! a mere fraction of a second—the squalid faces, +the miserable, starved expressions of the crowd, soften at sight of +him. There is a faint murmur among the women, which perhaps God's +recording angel registered as a blessing. Who knows?</p> + +<p>Foucquier-Tinville suppresses a sneer, and the Citizen-President +impatiently rings his hand-bell again.</p> + +<p>"Bring forth the accused!" he commands in stentorian tones.</p> + +<p>There is a movement of satisfaction among the crowd, and the angel of +God is forced to hide his face again.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /><br /> +The trial of Juliette.</h3> + + +<p>It is all indelibly placed on record in the "Bulletin du Tribunal +Révolutionnaire," under date 25th Fructidor, year I. of the +Revolution.</p> + +<p>Anyone who cares may read, for the Bulletin is in the Archives of the +Bibliothèque Nationale of Paris.</p> + +<p>One by one the accused had been brought forth, escorted by two men of +the National Guard in ragged, stained uniforms of red, white, and +blue; they were then conducted to the small raised platform in the +centre of the hall, and made to listen to the charge brought against +them by Citizen Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Presecutor.</p> + +<p>They were petty charges mostly: pilfering, fraud, theft, occasionally +arson or manslaughter. One man, however, was arraigned for murder with +highway robbery, and a woman for the most ignoble traffic, which evil +feminine ingenuity could invent.</p> + +<p>These two were condemned to the guillotine, the others sent to the +galleys at Brest or Toulon—the forger along with the petty thief, +the housebreaker with the absconding clerk.</p> + +<p>There was no room in the prison for ordinary offences against the +criminal code; they were overfilled already with so-called traitors +against the Republic.</p> + +<p>Three women were sent to the penitentiary at the Salpêtriere, and were +dragged out of the court shrilly protesting their innocence, and +followed by obscene jeers from the spectators on the benches.</p> + +<p>Then there was a momentary hush.</p> + +<p>Juliette Marny had been brought in.</p> + +<p>She was quite calm, and exquisitely beautiful, dressed in a plain grey +bodice and kirtle, with a black band round her slim waist and a soft +white kerchief folded across her bosom. Beneath the tiny, white cap +her golden hair appeared in dainty, curly profusion; her child-like, +oval face was very white, but otherwise quite serene.</p> + +<p>She seemed absolutely unconscious of her surroundings, and walked with +a firm step up to the platform, looking neither to the right nor to +the left of her.</p> + +<p>Therefore she did not see Déroulède. A great, a wonderful radiance +seemed to shine in her large eyes—the radiance of self-sacrifice.</p> + +<p>She was offering not only her life, but everything a woman of +refinement holds most dear, for the safety of the man she loved.</p> + +<p>A feeling that was almost physical pain, so intense was it, overcame +Déroulède, when at last he heard her name loudly called by the Public +Prosecutor.</p> + +<p>All day he had waited for this awful moment, forgetting his own +misery, his own agonised feeling of an irretrievable loss, in the +horrible thought of what <i>she</i> would endure, what <i>she</i> would think, +when first she realised the terrible indignity, which was to be put +upon her.</p> + +<p>Yet for the sake of her, of her chances of safety and of ultimate +freedom, it was undoubtedly best that it should be so.</p> + +<p>Arraigned for conspiracy against the Republic, she was liable to +secret trial, to be brought up, condemned, and executed before he +could even hear of her whereabouts, before he could throw himself +before her judges and take all guilt upon himself.</p> + +<p>Those suspected of treason against the Republic forfeited, according +to Merlin's most iniquitous Law, their rights of citizenship, in +publicity of trial and in defence.</p> + +<p>It all might have been finished before Déroulède knew anything of it.</p> + +<p>The other way was, of course, more terrible. Brought forth amongst +the scum of criminal Paris, on a charge, the horror of which, he could +but dimly hope that she was too innocent to fully understand, he dared +not even think of what she would suffer.</p> + +<p>But undoubtedly it was better so.</p> + +<p>The mud thrown at her robes of purity could never cling to her, and at +least her trial would be public; he would be there to take all infamy, +all disgrace, all opprobrium on himself.</p> + +<p>The strength of his appeal would turn her judges' wrath from her to +him; and after these few moments of misery, she would be free to leave +Paris, France, to be happy, and to forget him and the memory of him.</p> + +<p>An overwhelming, all-compelling love filled his entire soul for the +beautiful girl, who had so wronged, yet so nobly tried to save him. A +longing for her made his very sinews ache; she was no longer madonna, +and her beauty thrilled him, with the passionate, almost sensuous +desire to give his life for her.</p> + +<p>The indictment against Juliette Marny has become history now.</p> + +<p>On that day, the 25th Fructidor, at seven o'clock in the evening, it +was read out by the Public Prosecutor, and listened to by the accused +—so the Bulletin tells us—with complete calm and apparent +indifference. She stood up in that same pillory where once stood poor, +guilty Charlotte Corday, where presently would stand proud, guiltless +Marie Antoinette.</p> + +<p>And Déroulède listened to the scurrilous document, with all the +outward calm his strength of will could command. He would have liked +to rise from his seat then and there, at once, and in mad, purely +animal fury have, with a blow of his fist, quashed the words in +Foucquier-Tinville's lying throat.</p> + +<p>But for her sake he was bound to listen, and, above all, to act +quietly, deliberately, according to form and procedure, so as in no +way to imperil her cause.</p> + +<p>Therefore he listened whilst the Public Prosecutor spoke.</p> + +<p>"Juliette Marny, you are hereby accused of having, by a false and +malicious denunciation, slandered the person of a representative of +the people; you caused the Revolutionary Tribunal, through this same +mischievous act, to bring a charge against this representative of the +people, to institute a domiciliary search in his house, and to waste +valuable time, which otherwise belonged to the service of the +Republic. And this you did, not from a misguided sense of duty towards +your country, but in wanton and impure spirit, to be rid of the +surveillance of one who had your welfare at heart, and who tried to +prevent your leading the immoral life which had become a public +scandal, and which has now brought you before this court of justice, +to answer to a charge of wantonness, impurity, defamation of +character, and corruption of public morals. In proof of which I now +place before the court your own admission, that more than one citizen +of the Republic has been led by you into immoral relationship with +yourself; and further, your own admission, that your accusation +against Citizen-Deputy Déroulède was false and mischievous; and +further, and finally, your immoral and obscene correspondence with +some persons unknown, which you vainly tried to destroy. In +consideration of which, and in the name of the people of France, whose +spokesman I am, I demand that you be taken hence from this Hall of +Justice to the Place de la Révolution, in full view of the citizens of +Paris and its environs, and clad in a soiled white garment, emblem of +the smirch upon your soul, that there you be publicly whipped by the +hands of Citizen Samson, the public executioner; after which, that you +be taken to the prison of the Salpêtriere, there to be further +detained at the discretion of the Committee of Public Safety. And now, +Juliette Marny, you have heard the indictment preferred against you, +have you anything to say, why the sentence which I have demanded shall +not be passed upon you?"</p> + +<p>Jeers, shouts, laughter, and curses greeted this speech of the Public +Prosecutor.</p> + +<p>All that was most vile and most bestial in this miserable, misguided +people struggling for Utopia and Liberty, seemed to come to the +surface, whilst listening to the reading of this most infamous +document.</p> + +<p>The delight of seeing this beautiful, ethereal woman, almost unearthly +in her proud aloofness, smirched with the vilest mud to which the +vituperation of man can contrive to sink, was a veritable treat to the +degraded wretches.</p> + +<p>The women yelled hoarse approval; the children, not understanding, +laughed in mirthless glee; the men, with loud curses, showed their +appreciation of Foucquier-Tinville's speech.</p> + +<p>As for Déroulède, the mental agony he endured surpassed any torture +which the devils, they say, reserve for the damned. His sinews cracked +in his frantic efforts to control himself; he dug his finger-nails +into his flesh, trying by physical pain to drown the sufferings of his +mind.</p> + +<p>He thought that his reason was tottering, that he would go mad if he +heard another word of this infamy. The hooting and yelling of that +filthy mob sounded like the cries of lost souls, shrieking from hell. +All his pity for them was gone, his love for humanity, his devotion to +the suffering poor.</p> + +<p>A great, an immense hatred for this ghastly Revolution and the people +it professed to free filled his whole being, together with a mad, +hideous desire to see them suffer, starve, die a miserable, loathsome +death. The passion of hate, that now overwhelmed his soul, was at +least as ugly as theirs. He was, for one brief moment, now at one with +them in their inordinate lust for revenge.</p> + +<p>Only Juliette throughout all this remained calm, silent, impassive.</p> + +<p>She had heard the indictment, heard the loathsome sentence, for her +white cheeks had gradually become ashy pale, but never for a moment +did she depart from her attitude of proud aloofness.</p> + +<p>She never once turned her head towards the mob who insulted her. She +waited in complete passiveness until the yelling and shouting had +subsided, motionless save for her finger-tips, which beat an impatient +tattoo upon the railing in front of her.</p> + +<p>The Bulletin says that she took out her handkerchief and wiped her +face with it. <i>Elle s'essuya le front qui fut perlé de sueur.</i> The +heat had become oppressive.</p> + +<p>The atmosphere was overcharged with the dank, penetrating odour of +steaming, dirty clothes. The room, though vast, was close and +suffocating, the tallow candles flickering in the humid, hot air threw +the faces of the President and clerks into bold relief, with curious +caricature effects of light and shade.</p> + +<p>The petrol lamp above the head of the accused had flared up, and begun +to smoke, causing the chimney to crack with a sharp report. This +diversion effected a momentary silence among the crowd, and the Public +Prosecutor was able to repeat his query:</p> + +<p>"Juliette Marny, have you anything to say in reply to the charge +brought against you, and why the sentence which I have demanded should +not be passed against you?"</p> + +<p>The sooty smoke from the lamp came down in small, black, greasy +particles; Juliette with her slender finger-tips flicked one of these +quietly off her sleeve, then she replied:</p> + +<p>"No; I have nothing to say."</p> + +<p>"Have you instructed an advocate to defend you, according to your +rights of citizenship, which the Law allows?" added the Public +Prosecutor solemnly.</p> + +<p>Juliette would have replied at once; her mouth had already framed the +No with which she meant to answer.</p> + +<p>But now at last had come Déroulède's hour. For this he had been +silent, had suffered and had held his peace, whilst twice twenty-four +hours had dragged their weary lengths along, since the arrest of the +woman he loved.</p> + +<p>In a moment he was on his feet before them all, accustomed to speak, +to dominate, to command.</p> + +<p>"Citizeness Juliette Marny has entrusted me with her defence," he +said, even before the No had escaped Juliette's white lips, "and I am +here to refute the charges brought against her, and to demand in the +name of the people of France full acquittal and justice for her."</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /><br /> +The defence.</h3> + + +<p>Intense excitement, which found vent in loud applause, greeted +Déroulède's statement.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ça ira! ça ira! vas-y Déroulède!</i> " came from the crowded benches +round; and men, women, and children, wearied with the monotony of the +past proceedings, settled themselves down for a quarter of an hour's +keen enjoyment.</p> + +<p>If Déroulède had anything to do with it, the trial was sure to end in +excitement. And the people were always ready to listen to their +special favourite.</p> + +<p>The citizen-deputies, drowsy after the long, oppressive day, seemed to +rouse themselves to renewed interest. Lebrun, like a big, shaggy dog, +shook himself free from creeping somnolence. Robespierre smiled +between his thin lips, and looked across at Merlin to see how the +situation affected him. The enmity between the Minister of Justice and +Citizen Déroulède was well known, and everyone noted, with added zest, +that the former wore a keen look of anticipated triumph.</p> + +<p>High up, on one of the topmost benches, sat Citizen Lenoir, the +stage-manager of this palpitating drama. He looked down, with obvious +satisfaction, at the scene which he himself had suggested last night +to the members of the Jacobin Club. Merlin's sharp eyes had tried to +pierce the gloom, which wrapped the crowd of spectators, searching +vainly to distinguish the broad figure and massive head of the +provincial giant.</p> + +<p>The light from the petrol lamp shone full on Déroulède's earnest, dark +countenance as he looked Juliette's infamous accuser full in the face, +but the tallow candles, flickering weirdly on the President's desk, +threw Tinville's short, spare figure and large, unkempt head into +curious grotesque silhouette.</p> + +<p>Juliette apparently had lost none of her calm, and there was no one +there sufficiently interested in her personality to note the tinge of +delicate colour which, at the first word of Déroulède, had slowly +mounted to her pale cheeks.</p> + +<p>Tinville waited until the wave of excitement had broken upon the +shoals of expectancy.</p> + +<p>Then he resumed:</p> + +<p>"Then, Citizen Déroulède, what have <i>you</i> to say, why sentence should +not be passed upon the accused?"</p> + +<p>"I have to say that the accused is innocent of every charge brought +against her in your indictment," replied Déroulède firmly.</p> + +<p>"And how do you substantiate this statement, Citizen-Deputy?" queried +Tinville, speaking with mock unctuousness.</p> + +<p>"Very simply, Citizen Tinville. The correspondence to which you refer +did not belong to the accused, but to me. It consisted of certain +communications, which I desired to hold with Marie Antoinette, now a +prisoner in the Conciergerie, during my state there as +lieutenant-governor. The Citizeness Juliette Marny, by denouncing me, +was serving the Republic, for my communications with Marie Antoinette +had reference to my own hopes of seeing her quit this country and take +refuge in her own native land."</p> + +<p>Gradually, as Déroulède spoke, a murmur, like the distant roar of a +monstrous breaker, rose among the crowd on the upper benches. As he +continued quietly and firmly, so it grew in volume and in intensity, +until his last words were drowned in one mighty, thunderous shout of +horror and execration.</p> + +<p>Déroulède, the friend and idol of the people, the privileged darling +of this unruly population, the father of the children, the friend of +the women, the sympathiser in all troubles, Papa Déroulède as the +little ones called him—he a traitor, self-accused, plotting and +planning for an ex-tyrant, a harlot who had called herself a queen, +for Marie Antoinette the Austrian, who had desired and worked for the +overthrow of France! He, Déroulède, a traitor!</p> + +<p>In one moment, as he spoke, the love which in their crude hearts they +bore him, that animal primitive love, was turned to sudden, equally +irresponsible hate. He had deceived them, laughed at them, tried to +bribe them by feeding their little ones!</p> + +<p>Bah! the bread of the traitor! It might have choked the children.</p> + +<p>Surprise at first had taken their breath away. Already they had +marvelled why he should stand up to defend a wanton. And now, probably +feeling that he was on the point of being found out, he thought it +better to make a clean breast of his own treason, trusting in his +popularity, in his power over the people.</p> + +<p>Bah!!!</p> + +<p>Not one extenuating circumstance did they find in their hardened +hearts for him.</p> + +<p>He had been their idol, enshrined in their squalid, degraded minds, +and now he had fallen, shattered beyond recall, and they hated and +loathed him as much as they had loved him before.</p> + +<p>And this his enemies noted, and smiled with complete satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Merlin heaved a sigh of relief. Tinville nodded his shaggy head, in +token of intense delight.</p> + +<p>What that provincial coal-heaver had foretold had indeed come to pass.</p> + +<p>The populace, that most fickle of all fickle things in this world, had +turned all at once against its favourite. This Lenoir had predicted, +and the transition had been even more rapid than he had anticipated.</p> + +<p>Déroulède had been given a length of rope, and, figuratively speaking, +had already hanged himself.</p> + +<p>The reality was a mere matter of a few hours now. At dawn to-morrow +the guillotine; and the mob of Paris, who yesterday would have torn +his detractors limb from limb, would on the morrow be dragging him, +with hoots and yells and howls of execration, to the scaffold.</p> + +<p>The most shadowy of all footholds, that of the whim of a populace, had +already given way under him. His enemies knew it, and were exulting in +their triumph. He knew it himself, and stood up, calmly defiant, ready +for any event, if only he succeeded in snatching her beautiful head +from the ready embrace of the guillotine.</p> + +<p>Juliette herself had remained as if entranced. The colour had again +fled from her cheeks, leaving them paler, more ashen than before. It +seemed as if in this moment she suffered more than human creature +could bear, more than any torture she had undergone hitherto.</p> + +<p>He would not owe his life to her.</p> + +<p>That was the one overwhelming thought in her, which annihilated all +others. His love for her was dead, and he would not accept the great +sacrifice at her hands.</p> + +<p>Thus these two in the supreme moment of their life saw each other, yet +did not understand. A word, a touch would have given them both the key +to one another's heart, and it now seemed as if death would part them +for ever, whilst that great enigma remained unsolved.</p> + +<p>The Public Prosecutor had been waiting until the noise had somewhat +subsided, and his voice could be heard above the din, then he said, +with a smile of ill-concealed satisfaction:</p> + +<p>"And is the court, then, to understand, Citizen-Deputy Déroulède, that +it was you who tried to burn the treasonable correspondence and to +destroy the case which contained it?"</p> + +<p>"The treasonable correspondence was mine, and it was I who destroyed +it."</p> + +<p>"But the accused admitted before Citizen Merlin that she herself was +trying to burn certain love letters, that would have brought to light +her illicit relationship with another man than yourself," argued +Tinville suavely. The rope was perhaps not quite long enough; +Déroulède must have all that could be given him, ere this memorable +sitting was adjourned.</p> + +<p>Déroulède, however, instead of directing his reply straight to his +enemy, now turned towards the dense crowd of spectators, on the +benches opposite to him.</p> + +<p>"Citizens, friends, brothers," he said warmly, "the accused is only a +girl, young, innocent knowing nothing of peril or of sin. You all have +mothers, sisters, daughters—have you not watched those dear to you +in the many moods of which a feminine heart is capable; have you not +seen them affectionate, tender, and impulsive? Would you love them so +dearly but for the fickleness of their moods? Have you not worshipped +them in your hearts, for those sublime impulses which put all man's +plans and calculations to shame? Look on the accused, citizens. She +loves the Republic, the people of France, and feared that I, an +unworthy representative of her sons, was hatching treason against our +great mother. That was her first wayward impulse—to stop me before I +committed the awful crime, to punish me, or perhaps only to warn me. +Does a young girl calculate, citizens? She acts as her heart dictates; +her reason but awakes from slumber later on, when the act is done. +Then comes repentance sometimes: another impulse of tenderness which we +all revere. Would you extract vinegar from rose leaves? Just as +readily could you find reason in a young girl's head. Is that a crime? +She wished to thwart me in my treason; then, seeing me in peril, the +sincere friendship she had for me gained the upper hand once more. She +loved my mother, who might be losing a son; she loved my crippled +foster-sister; for <i>their</i> sakes, not for mine—a traitor's—did she +yield to another, a heavenly impulse, that of saving me from the +consequences of my own folly. Was <i>that</i> a crime, citizens? When you +are ailing, do not your mothers, sisters, wives tend you? when you are +seriously ill, would they not give their heart's blood to save you? +and when, in the dark hours of your lives, some deed which you would +not openly avow before the world overweights your soul with its burden +of remorse, is it not again your womenkind who come to you, with +tender words and soothing voices, trying to ease your aching +conscience, bringing solace, comfort, and peace? And so it was with +the accused, citizens. She had seen my crime, and longed to punish it; +she saw those who had befriended her in sorrow, and she tried to ease +their pain by taking <i>my</i> guilt upon her shoulders. She has suffered +for the noble lie, which she had told on my behalf, as no woman has +ever been made to suffer before. She has stood, white and innocent as +your new-born children, in the pillory of infamy. She was ready to +endure death, and what was ten thousand times worse than death, +because of her own warm-hearted affection. But you, citizens of +France, who, above all, are noble, true, and chivalrous, you will not +allow the sweet impulses of young and tender womanhood to be punished +with the ban of felony. To you, women of France, I appeal in the name +of your childhood, your girlhood, your motherhood; take her to your +hearts, she is worthy of it, worthier now for having blushed before +you, worthier than any heroine in the great roll of honour of France."</p> + +<p>His magnetic voice went echoing along the rafters of the great, sordid +Hall of Justice, filling it with a glory it had never known before. +His enthusiasm thrilled his hearers, his appeal to their honour and +chivalry roused all the finer feelings within them. Still hating him +for his treason, his magical appeal had turned their hearts towards +her.</p> + +<p>They had listened to him without interruption, and now at last, when +he paused, it was very evident, by muttered exclamations and glances +cast at Juliette, that popular feeling, which up to the present had +practically ignored her, now went out towards her personality with +overwhelming sympathy.</p> + +<p>Obviously at the present moment, if Juliette's fate had been put to +the plebiscite, she would have been unanimously acquitted.</p> + +<p>Merlin, as Déroulède spoke, had once or twice tried to read his friend +Foucquier-Tinville's enigmatical expression, but the Public +Prosecutor, with his face in deep shadow, had not moved a muscle +during the Citizen-Deputy's noble peroration. He sat at his desk, chin +resting on hand, staring before him with an expression of +indifference, almost of boredom.</p> + +<p>Now, when Déroulède finished speaking, and the outburst of human +enthusiasm had somewhat subsided, he rose slowly to his feet, and said +quietly:</p> + +<p>"So you maintain, Citizen-Deputy, that the accused is a chaste and +innocent girl, unjustly charged with immorality?"</p> + +<p>"I do," protested Déroulède loudly.</p> + +<p>"And will you tell the court why you are so ready to publicly accuse +yourself of treason against the Republic, knowing full well all the +consequences of your action?"</p> + +<p>"Would any Frenchman care to save his own life at the expense of a +woman's honour?" retorted Déroulède proudly.</p> + +<p>A murmur of approval greeted these words, and Tinville remarked +unctuously:</p> + +<p>"Quite so, quite so. We esteem your chivalry, Citizen-Deputy. The +same spirit, no doubt, actuates you to maintain that the accused knew +nothing of the papers which you say you destroyed?"</p> + +<p>"She knew nothing of them. I destroyed them; I did not know that they +had been found; on my return to my house I discovered that the +Citizeness Juliette Marny had falsely accused herself of having +destroyed some papers surreptitiously."</p> + +<p>"She said they were love letters."</p> + +<p>"It is false."</p> + +<p>"You declare her to be pure and chaste?"</p> + +<p>"Before the whole world."</p> + +<p>"Yet you were in the habit of frequenting the bedroom of this pure and +chaste girl, who dwelt under your roof," said Tinville with slow and +deliberate sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"It is false."</p> + +<p>"If it be false, Citizen Déroulède," continued the other with the same +unctuous suavity, "then how comes it that the correspondence which you +admit was treasonable, and therefore presumably secret—how comes it +that it was found, still smouldering, in the chaste young woman's +bedroom, and the torn letter-case concealed among her dresses in a +valise?"</p> + +<p>"It is false."</p> + +<p>"The Minister of Justice, Citizen-Deputy Merlin, will answer for the +truth of that."</p> + +<p>"It is the truth," said Juliette quietly.</p> + +<p>Her voice rang out clear, almost triumphant, in the midst of the +breathless pause, caused by the previous swift questions and loud +answers.</p> + +<p>Déroulède now was silent.</p> + +<p>This one simple fact he did not know. Anne Mie, in telling him the +events in connection with the arrest of Juliette, had omitted to give +him the one little detail, that the burnt letters were found in the +young girl's bedroom.</p> + +<p>Up to the moment when the Public Prosecutor confronted him with it, he +had been under the impression that she had destroyed the papers and +the letter-case in the study, where she had remained alone after +Merlin and his men had left the room. She could easily have burnt them +there, as a tiny spirit lamp was always kept alight on a side table +for the use of smokers.</p> + +<p>This little fact now altered the entire course of events. Tinville +had but to frame an indignant ejaculation:</p> + +<p>"Citizens of France, see how you are being befooled and hoodwinked!"</p> + +<p>Then he turned once more to Déroulède.</p> + +<p>"Citizen Déroulède ..." he began.</p> + +<p>But in the tumult that ensued he could no longer hear his own voice. +The pent-up rage of the entire mob of Paris seemed to find vent for +itself in the howls with which the crowd now tried to drown the rest +of the proceedings.</p> + +<p>As their brutish hearts had been suddenly melted on behalf of +Juliette, in response to Déroulède's passionate appeal, so now they +swiftly changed their sympathetic attitude to one of horror and +execration.</p> + +<p>Two people had fooled and deceived them. One of these they had +reverenced and trusted, as much as their degraded minds were capable +of reverencing anything, therefore <i>his</i> sin seemed doubly damnable.</p> + +<p>He and that pale-face aristocrat had for weeks now, months, or years +perhaps, conspired against the Republic, against the Revolution, which +had been made by a people thirsting for liberty. During these months +and years <i>he</i> had talked to them, and they had listened; he had +poured forth treasures of eloquence, cajoled them, as he had done just +now.</p> + +<p>The noise and hubbub were growing apace. If Tinville and Merlin had +desired to infuriate the mob, they had more than succeeded. All that +was most bestial, most savage in this awful Parisian populace rose to +the surface now in one wild, mad desire for revenge.</p> + +<p>The crowd rushed down from the benches, over one another's heads, over +children's fallen bodies; they rushed down because they wanted to get +at him, their whilom favourite, and at his pale-faced mistress, and +tear them to pieces, hit them, scratch out their eyes. They snarled +like so many wild beasts, the women shrieked, the children cried, and +the men of the National Guard, hurrying forward, had much ado to keep +back this flood-tide of hate.</p> + +<p>Had any of them broken loose, from behind the barrier of bayonets +hastily raised against them, it would have fared ill with Déroulède +and Juliette.</p> + +<p>The President wildly rang his bell, and his voice, quivering with +excitement, was heard once or twice above the din.</p> + +<p>"Clear the court! Clear the court!"</p> + +<p>But the people refused to be cleared out of court.</p> + +<p>"<i>A la lanterne les traîtres! Mort à Déroulède. A la lanterne! +l'aristo!</i> "</p> + +<p>And in the thickest of the crowd, the broad shoulders and massive +head of Citizen Lenoir towered above the others.</p> + +<p>At first it seemed as if he had been urging on the mob in its fury. +His strident voice, with its broad provincial accent, was heard +distinctly shouting loud vituperations against the accused.</p> + +<p>Then at a given moment, when the tumult was at its height, when the +National Guard felt their bayonets giving way before this onrushing +tide of human jackals, Lenoir changed his tactics.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tiens! c'est bête!</i> " he shouted loudly, "we shall do far better with +the traitors when we get them outside. What say you, citizens? Shall +we leave the judges here to conclude the farce, and arrange for its +sequel ourselves outside the 'Tigre Jaune'?"</p> + +<p>At first but little heed was paid to his suggestion, and he repeated +it once or twice, adding some interesting details:</p> + +<p>"One is freer in the streets, where these apes of the National Guard +can't get between the people of France and their just revenge. <i>Ma +foi!</i> " he added, squaring his broad shoulders, and pushing his way +through the crowd towards the door, "I for one am going to see where +hangs the most suitable <i>lanterne.</i> "</p> + +<p>Like a flock of sheep the crowd now followed him.</p> + +<p>"The nearest <i>lanterne!</i> " they shouted. "In the streets—in the +streets! <i>A la lanterne!</i> The traitors!"</p> + +<p>And with many a jeer, many a loathsome curse, and still more loathsome +jests, some of the crowd began to file out. A few only remained to see +the conclusion of the farce.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /><br /> +Sentence of death.</h3> + + +<p>The "Bulletin du Tribunal Révolutionnaire" tells us that both the +accused had remained perfectly calm during the turmoil which raged +within the bare walls of the Hall of Justice.</p> + +<p>Citizen-Deputy Déroulède, however, so the chroniclers aver, though +outwardly impassive, was evidently deeply moved. He had very +expressive eyes, clear mirrors of the fine, upright soul within, and +in them there was a look of intense emotion as he watched the crowd, +which he had so often dominated and controlled, now turning in hatred +against him.</p> + +<p>He seemed actually to be seeing with a spiritual vision, his own +popularity wane and die.</p> + +<p>But when the thick of the crowd had pushed and jostled itself out of +the hall, that transient emotion seemed to disappear, and he allowed +himself quietly to be led from the front bench, where he had sat as a +privileged member of the National Convention, to a place immediately +behind the dock, and between two men of the National Guard.</p> + +<p>From that moment he was a prisoner, accused of treason against the +Republic, and obviously his mock trial would be hurried through by his +triumphant enemies, whilst the temper of the people was at boiling +point against him.</p> + +<p>Complete silence had succeeded to the raging tumult of the past few +moments. Nothing now could be heard in the vast room, save +Foucquier-Tinville's hastily whispered instructions to the clerk +nearest to him, and the scratch of the latter's quill pen against the +paper.</p> + +<p>The President was, with equal rapidity, affixing his signature to +various papers handed up to him by the other clerks. The few remaining +spectators, the deputies, and those among the crowd who had elected to +see the close of the debate, were silent and expectant.</p> + +<p>Merlin was mopping his forehead as if in intense fatigue after a hard +struggle; Robespierre was coolly taking snuff.</p> + +<p>From where Déroulède stood, he could see Juliette's graceful figure +silhouetted against the light of the petrol lamp. His heart was torn +between intense misery at having failed to save her and a curious, +exultant joy at thought of dying beside her.</p> + +<p>He knew the procedure of this revolutionary tribunal well—knew that +within the next few moments he too would be condemned, that they would +both be hustled out of the crowd and dragged through the streets of +Paris, and finally thrown into the same prison, to herd with those +who, like themselves, had but a few hours to live.</p> + +<p>And then to-morrow at dawn, death for them both under the guillotine. +Death in public, with all its attendant horrors: the packed tumbril; +the priest, in civil clothes, appointed by this godless government, +muttering conventional prayers and valueless exhortations.</p> + +<p>And in his heart there was nothing but love for her—love and an +intense pity—for the punishment she was suffering was far greater +than her crime. He hoped that in her heart remorse would not be too +bitter; and he looked forward with joy to the next few hours, which he +would pass near her, during which he could perhaps still console and +soothe her.</p> + +<p>She was but the victim of an ideal, of Fate stronger than her own +will. She stood, an innocent martyr to the great mistake of her life.</p> + +<p>But the minutes sped on. Foucquier-Tinville had evidently completed +his new indictments.</p> + +<p>The one against Juliette Marny was read out first. She was now +accused of conspiring with Paul Déroulède against the safety of the +Republic, by having cognisance of a treasonable correspondence carried +on with the prisoner, Marie Antoinette; by virtue of which accusation +the Public Prosecutor asked her if she had anything to say.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied loudly and firmly. "I pray to God for the safety +and deliverance of our Queen, Marie Antoinette, and for the overthrow +of this Reign of Terror and Anarchy."</p> + +<p>These words, registered in the "Bulletin du Tribunal Révolutionnaire" +were taken as final and irrefutable proofs of her guilt, and she was +then summarily condemned to death.</p> + +<p>She was then made to step down from the dock and Déroulède to stand in +her place.</p> + +<p>He listened quietly to the long indictment which Foucquier-Tinville +had already framed against him the evening before, in readiness for +this contingency. The words "treason against the Republic" occurred +conspicuously and repeatedly. The document itself is at one with the +thousands of written charges, framed by that odious Foucquier-Tinville +during these periods of bloodshed, and which in themselves are the +most scathing indictments against the odious travesty of Justice, +perpetrated with his help.</p> + +<p>Self-accused, and avowedly a traitor, Déroulède was not even asked if +he had anything to say; sentence of death was passed on him, with the +rapidity and callousness peculiar to these proceedings.</p> + +<p>After which Paul Déroulède and Juliette Marny were led forth, under +strong escort, into the street.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br /><br /> +The Fructidor Riots.</h3> + + +<p>Many accounts, more or less authentic, have been published of the +events known to history as the "Fructidor Riots."</p> + +<p>But this is how it all happened: at any rate it is the version related +some few days later in England to the Prince of Wales by no less a +personage than Sir Percy Blakeney; and who indeed should know better +than The Scarlet Pimpernel himself?</p> + +<p>Déroulède and Juliette Marny were the last of the batch of prisoners +who were tried on that memorable day of Fructidor.</p> + +<p>There had been such a number of these, that all the covered carts in +use for the conveyance of prisoners to and from the Hall of Justice +had already been despatched with their weighty human load; thus it was +that only a rough wooden cart, hoodless and rickety, was available, +and into this Déroulède and Juliette were ordered to mount.</p> + +<p>It was now close on nine o'clock in the evening. The streets of +Paris, sparsely illuminated here and there with solitary oil lamps +swung across from house to house on wires, presented a miserable and +squalid appearance. A thin, misty rain had begun to fall, transforming +the ill-paved roads into morasses of sticky mud.</p> + +<p>The Hall of Justice was surrounded by a howling and shrieking mob, +who, having imbibed all the stores of brandy in the neighbouring +drinking bars, was now waiting outside in the dripping rain for the +express purpose of venting its pent-up, spirit-sodden lust of rage +against the man whom it had once worshipped, but whom now it hated. +Men, women, and even children swarmed round the principal entrances of +the Palais de Justice, along the bank of the river as far as the Pont +au Change, and up towards the Luxembourg Palace, now transformed into +the prison, to which the condemned would no doubt be conveyed.</p> + +<p>Along the river-bank, and immediately facing the Palais de Justice, a +row of gallows-shaped posts, at intervals of a hundred yards or more, +held each a smoky petrol lamp, at a height of some eight feet from the +ground.</p> + +<p>One of these lamps had been knocked down, and from the post itself +there now hung ominously a length of rope, with a noose at the end.</p> + +<p>Around this improvised gallows a group of women sat, or rather +squatted, in the mud; their ragged shifts and kirtles, soaked through +with the drizzling rain, hung dankly on their emaciated forms; their +hair, in some cases grey, and in others dark or straw-coloured, clung +matted round their wet faces, on which the dirt and the damp had drawn +weird and grotesque lines.</p> + +<p>The men were restless and noisy, rushing aimlessly hither and thither, +from the corner of the bridge, up the Rue du Palais, fearful lest +their prey be conjured away ere their vengeance was satisfied.</p> + +<p>Oh, how they hated their former idol now! Citizen Lenoir, with his +broad shoulders and powerful, grime-covered head, towered above the +throng; his strident voice, with its raucous, provincial accent, could +be distinctly heard above the din, egging on the men, shouting to the +women, stirring up hatred against the prisoners, wherever it showed +signs of abating in intensity.</p> + +<p>The coal-heaver, hailing from some distant province, seemed to have +set himself the grim task of provoking the infuriated populace to some +terrible deed of revenge against Déroulède and Juliette.</p> + +<p>The darkness of the street, the fast-falling mist which obscured the +light from the meagre oil lamps, seemed to add a certain weirdness to +this moving, seething multitude. No one could see his neighbour. In +the blackness of the night the muttering or yelling figures moved +about like some spectral creatures from hellish regions—the Akous of +Brittany who call to those about to die; whilst the women squatting in +the oozing mud, beneath that swinging piece of rope, looked like a +group of ghostly witches, waiting for the hour of their Sabbath.</p> + +<p>As Déroulède emerged into the open, the light from a swinging lantern +in the doorway fell upon his face. The foremost of the crowd +recognised him; a howl of execration went up to the cloud-covered sky, +and a hundred hands were thrust out in deadly menace against him.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if they wished to tear him to pieces.</p> + +<p>"<i>A la lanterne! A la lanterne! le traître!</i> "</p> + +<p>He shivered slightly, as if with the sudden blast of cold, humid air, +but he stepped quietly into the cart, closely followed by Juliette.</p> + +<p>The strong escort of the National Guard, with Commandant Santerre and +his two drummers, had much ado to keep back the mob. It was not the +policy of the revolutionary government to allow excesses of summary +justice in the streets: the public execution of traitors on the Place +de la Révolution, the processions in the tumbrils, were thought to be +wholesome examples for other would-be traitors to mark and digest.</p> + +<p>Citizen Santerre, military commandant of Paris, had ordered his men to +use their bayonets ruthlessly, and, to further overawe the populace, +he ordered a prolonged roll of drums, lest Déroulède took it into his +head to speak to the crowd.</p> + +<p>But Déroulède had no such intention: he seemed chiefly concerned in +shielding Juliette from the cold; she had been made to sit in the cart +beside him, and he had taken off his coat, and was wrapping it round +her against the penetrating rain.</p> + +<p>The eye-witnesses of these memorable events have declared that, at a +given moment, he looked up suddenly with a curious, eager expression +in his eyes, and then raised himself in the cart and seemed to be +trying to penetrate the gloom round him, as if in search of a face, or +perhaps a voice.</p> + +<p>"<i>A la lanterne! A la lanterne!</i> " was the continual hoarse cry of +the mob.</p> + +<p>Up to now, flanked in their rear by the outer walls of the Palais de +Justice, the soldiers had found it a fairly easy task to keep the +crowd at bay. But there came a time when the cart was bound to move +out into the open, in order to convey the prisoners along, by the Rue +du Palais, up to the Luxembourg Prison.</p> + +<p>This task, however, had become more and more difficult every moment. +The people of Paris, who for two years had been told by its tyrants +that it was supreme lord of the universe, was mad with rage at seeing +its desires frustrated by a few soldiers.</p> + +<p>The drums had been greeted by terrific yells, which effectually +drowned their roll; the first movement of the cart was hailed by a +veritable tumult.</p> + +<p>Only the women who squatted round the gallows had not moved from their +position of vantage; one of these Mægæras was quietly readjusting the +rope, which had got out of place.</p> + +<p>But all the men and some of the women were literally besieging the +cart, and threatening the soldiers, who stood between them and the +object of their fury.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if nothing now could save Déroulède and Juliette from an +immediate and horrible death.</p> + +<p>"<i>A mort! A mort! A la lanterne les traîtres!</i> "</p> + +<p>Santerne himself, who had shouted himself hoarse, was at a loss what +to do. He had sent one man to the nearest cavalry barracks, but +reinforcements would still be some little time coming; whilst in the +meanwhile his men were getting exhausted, and the mob, more and more +excited, threatened to break through their line at every moment.</p> + +<p>There was not another second to be lost.</p> + +<p>Santerre was for letting the mob have its way, and he would willingly +have thrown it the prey for which it clamoured; but orders were +orders, and in the year I. of the Revolution it was not good to +disobey.</p> + +<p>At this supreme moment of perplexity he suddenly felt a respectful +touch on his arm.</p> + +<p>Close behind him a soldier of the National Guard—not one of his own +men—was standing at attention, and holding a small, folded paper in +his hand.</p> + +<p>"Sent to you by the Minister of Justice," whispered the soldier +hurriedly. "The citizen-deputies have watched the tumult from the +Hall; they say, you must not lose an instant."</p> + +<p>Santerre withdrew from the front rank, up against the side of the +cart, where a rough stable lantern had been fixed. He took the paper +from the soldier's hand, and, hastily tearing it open, he read it by +the dim light of the lantern.</p> + +<p>As he read, his thick, coarse features expressed the keenest +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"You have two more men with you?" he asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, citizen," replied the man, pointing towards his right; "and the +Citizen-Minister said you would give me two more."</p> + +<p>"You'll take the prisoners quietly across to the Prison of the Temple +—you understand that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, citizen; Citizen Merlin has given me full instructions. You can +have the cart drawn back a little more under the shadow of the +portico, where the prisoners can be made to alight; they can then be +given into my charge. You in the meantime are to stay here with your +men, round the empty cart, as long as you can. Reinforcements have +been sent for, and must soon be here. When they arrive you are to move +along with the cart, as if you were making for the Luxembourg Prison. +This manoeuvre will give us time to deliver the prisoners safely at +the Temple."</p> + +<p>The man spoke hurriedly and peremptorily, and Santerne was only too +ready to obey. He felt relieved at thought of reinforcements, and glad +to be rid of the responsibility of conducting such troublesome +prisoners.</p> + +<p>The thick mist, which grew more and more dense, favoured the new +manoeuvre, and the constant roll of drums drowned the hastily given +orders.</p> + +<p>The cart was drawn back into the deepest shadow of the great portico, +and whilst the mob were howling their loudest, and yelling out frantic +demands for the traitors, Déroulède and Juliette were summarily +ordered to step out of the cart. No one saw them, for the darkness +here was intense.</p> + +<p>"Follow quietly!" whispered a raucous voice in their ears as they did +so, "or my orders are to shoot you where you stand."</p> + +<p>But neither of them had any wish for resistance. Juliette, cold and +numb, was clinging to Déroulède, who had placed a protecting arm round +her.</p> + +<p>Santerne had told off two of his men to join the new escort of the +prisoners, and presently the small party, skirting the walls of the +Palais de Justice, began to walk rapidly away from the scene of the +riot.</p> + +<p>Déroulède noted that some half-dozen men seemed to be surrounding him +and Juliette, but the drizzling rain blurred every outline. The +blackness of the night too had become absolutely dense, and in the +distance the cries of the populace grew more and more faint.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /><br /> +The unexpected.</h3> + + +<p>The small party walked on in silence. It seemed to consist of a very +few men of the National Guard, whom Santerne had placed under the +command of the soldier who had transmitted to him the orders of the +Citizen-Deputies.</p> + +<p>Juliette and Déroulède both vaguely wondered whither they were being +led; to some other prison mayhap, away from the fury of the populace. +They were conscious of a sense of satisfaction at thought of being +freed from that pack of raging wild beasts.</p> + +<p>Beyond that they cared nothing. Both felt already the shadow of death +hovering over them. The supreme moment of their lives had come, and +had found them side by side.</p> + +<p>What neither fear nor remorse, sorrow nor joy, could do, that the +great and mighty Shadow accomplished in a trice.</p> + +<p>Juliette, looking death bravely in the face, held out her hand, and +sought that of the man she loved.</p> + +<p>There was not one word spoken between them, not even a murmur.</p> + +<p>Déroulède, with the unerring instinct of his own unselfish passion, +understood all that the tiny hand wished to convey to him.</p> + +<p>In a moment everything was forgotten save the joy of this touch. +Death, or the fear of death, had ceased to exist. Life was beautiful, +and in the soul of these two human creatures there was perfect peace, +almost perfect happiness.</p> + +<p>With one grasp of the hand they had sought and found one another's +soul. What mattered the yelling crowd, the noise and tumult of this +sordid world? They had found one another, and, hand-in-hand, +shoulder-to-shoulder, they had gone off wandering into the land of +dreams, where dwelt neither doubt nor treachery, where there was +nothing to forgive.</p> + +<p>He no longer said: "She does not love me—would she have betrayed me +else?" He felt the clinging, trustful touch of her hand, and knew +that, with all her faults, her great sin and her lasting sorrow, her +woman's heart, Heaven's most priceless treasure, was indeed truly his.</p> + +<p>And she knew that he had forgiven—nay, that he had naught to forgive +—for Love is sweet and tender, and judges not. Love is Love—whole, +trustful, passionate. Love is perfect understanding and perfect peace.</p> + +<p>And so they followed their escort whithersoever it chose to lead them.</p> + +<p>Their eyes wandered aimlessly over the mist-laden landscape of this +portion of deserted Paris. They had turned away from the river now, +and were following the Rue des Arts. Close by on the right was the +dismal little hostelry, "La Cruche Cassée," where Sir Percy Blakeney +lived. Déroulède, as they neared the place, caught himself vaguely +wondering what had become of his English friend.</p> + +<p>But it would take more than the ingenuity of the Scarlet Pimpernel to +get two noted prisoners out of Paris to-day. Even if ...</p> + +<p>"Halt!"</p> + +<p>The word of command rang out clearly and distinctly through the +rain-soaked atmosphere.</p> + +<p>Déroulède threw up his head and listened. Something strange and +unaccountable in that same word of command had struck his sensitive +ear.</p> + +<p>Yet the party had halted, and there was a click as of bayonets or +muskets levelled ready to fire.</p> + +<p>All had happened in less than a few seconds. The next moment there +was a loud cry:</p> + +<p>"<i>A moi,</i> Déroulède! 'tis the Scarlet Pimpernel!"</p> + +<p>A vigorous blow from an unseen hand had knocked down and extinguished +the nearest street lantern.</p> + +<p>Déroulède felt that he and Juliette were being hastily dragged under +an adjoining doorway even as the cheery voice echoed along the narrow +street.</p> + +<p>Half-a-dozen men were struggling below in the mud, and there was a +plentiful supply of honest English oaths. It looked as if the men of +the National Guard had fallen upon one another, and had it not been +for those same English oaths perhaps Déroulède and Juliette would have +been slower to understand.</p> + +<p>"Well done, Tony! Gadzooks, Ffoulkes, that was a smart bit of work!"</p> + +<p>The lazy, pleasant voice was unmistakable, but, God in heaven! where +did it come from?</p> + +<p>Of one thing there could be no doubt. The two men despatched by +Santerne were lying disabled on the ground, whilst three other +soldiers were busy pinioning them with ropes.</p> + +<p>What did it all mean?</p> + +<p>"La, friend Déroulède! you had not thought, I trust, that I would +leave Mademoiselle Juliette in such a demmed, uncomfortable hole?"</p> + +<p>And there, close beside Déroulède and Juliette, stood the tall figure +of the Jacobin orator, the bloodthirsty Citizen Lenoir. The two young +people gazed and gazed, then looked again, dumfounded, hardly daring +to trust their vision, for through the grime-covered mask of the +gigantic coal-heaver a pair of merry blue eyes was regarding them with +lazy-amusement.</p> + +<p>"La! I do look a miserable object, I know," said the pseudo +coal-heaver at last, "but 'twas the only way to get those murderous +devils to do what I wanted. A thousand pardons, mademoiselle; 'twas I +brought you to such a terrible pass, but la! you are amongst friends +now. Will you deign to forgive me?"</p> + +<p>Juliette looked up. Her great, earnest eyes, now swimming in tears, +sought those of the brave man who had so nobly stood by her and the +man she loved.</p> + +<p>"Blakeney ..." began Déroulède.</p> + +<p>But Sir Percy quickly interrupted him:</p> + +<p>"Hush, man! we have but a few moments. Remember you are in Paris +still, and the Lord only knows how we shall all get out of this +murderous city to-night. I have said that you and mademoiselle are +among friends. That is all for the moment. I had to get you together, +or I should have failed. I could only succeed by subjecting you and +mademoiselle to terrible indignities. Our League could plan but one +rescue, and I had to adopt the best means at my command to have you +condemned and led away together. Faith!" he added, with a pleasant +laugh, "my friend Tinville will not be pleased when he realises that +Citizen Lenoir has dragged the Citizen-Deputies by the nose."</p> + +<p>Whilst he spoke he had led Déroulède and Juliette into a dark and +narrow room on the ground floor of the hostelry, and presently he +called loudly for Brogard, the host of this uninviting abode.</p> + +<p>"Brogard!" shouted Sir Percy. "Where is that ass Brogard? La! man," +he added as Citizen Brogard, obsequious and fussy, and with pockets +stuffed with English gold, came shuffling along, "where do you hide +your engaging countenance? Here! another length of rope for the +gallant soldiers. Bring them in here, then give them that potion down +their throats, as I have prescribed. Demm it! I wish we need not have +brought them along, but that devil Santerre might have been suspicious +else. They'll come to no harm, though, and can do us no mischief."</p> + +<p>He prattled along merrily. Innately kind and chivalrous, he wished to +give Déroulède and Juliette time to recover from their dazed surprise.</p> + +<p>The transition from dull despair to buoyant hope had been so sudden: +it had all happened in less than three minutes.</p> + +<p>The scuffle had been short and sudden outside. The two soldiers of +Santerne had been taken completely unawares, and the three young +lieutenants of the Scarlet Pimpernel had fallen on them with such +vigour that they had hardly had time to utter a cry of "Help!"</p> + +<p>Moreover, that cry would have been useless. The night was dark and +wet, and those citizens who felt ready for excitement were busy +mobbing the Hall of Justice, a mile and a half away. One or two heads +had appeared at the small windows of the squalid houses opposite, but +it was too dark to see anything, and the scuffle had very quickly +subsided.</p> + +<p>All was silent now in the Rue des Arts, and in the grimy coffee-room +of the Cruche Cassée two soldiers of the National Guard were lying +bound and gagged, whilst three others were gaily laughing, and wiping +their rain-soaked hands and faces.</p> + +<p>In the midst of them all stood the tall, athletic figure of the bold +adventurer who had planned this impudent coup.</p> + +<p>"La! we've got so far, friends, haven't we?" he said cheerily, "and +now for the immediate future. We must all be out of Paris to-night, or +the guillotine for the lot of us to-morrow."</p> + +<p>He spoke gaily, and with that pleasant drawl of his which was so well +known in the fashionable assemblies of London; but there was a ring of +earnestness in his voice, and his lieutenants looked up at him, ready +to obey him in all things, but aware that danger was looming +threateningly ahead.</p> + +<p>Lord Anthony Dewhurst, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, and Lord Hastings, dressed +as soldiers of the National Guard, had played their part to +perfection. Lord Hastings had presented the order to Santerre, and the +three young bucks, at the word of command from their chief, had fallen +upon and overpowered the two men whom the commandant of Paris had +despatched to look after the prisoners.</p> + +<p>So far all was well. But how to get out of Paris? Everyone looked to +the Scarlet Pimpernel for guidance.</p> + +<p>Sir Percy now turned to Juliette, and with the consummate grace which +the elaborate etiquette of the times demanded, he made her a courtly +bow.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle de Marny," he said, "allow me to conduct you to a room, +which though unworthy of your presence will, nevertheless, enable you +to rest quietly for a few minutes, whilst I give my friend Déroulède +further advice and instructions. In the room you will find a disguise, +which I pray you to don with all haste. La! they are filthy rags, I +own, but your life and—and ours depend upon your help."</p> + +<p>Gallantly he kissed the tips of her fingers, and opened the door of an +adjoining room to enable her to pass through; then he stood aside, so +that her final look, as she went, might be for Déroulède.</p> + +<p>As soon as the door had closed upon her he once more turned to the +men.</p> + +<p>"Those uniforms will not do now," he said peremptorily; "there are +bundles of abominable clothes here, Tony. Will you all don them as +quickly as you can? We must all look as filthy a band of +<i>sansculottes</i> to-night as ever walked the streets of Paris."</p> + +<p>His lazy drawl had deserted him now. He was the man of action and of +thought, the bold adventurer who held the lives of his friends in the +hollow of his hand.</p> + +<p>The four men hastily obeyed. Lord Anthony Dewhurst—one of the most +elegant dandies of London society—had brought forth from a dank +cupboard a bundle of clothes, mere rags, filthy but useful.</p> + +<p>Within ten minutes the change was accomplished, and four dirty, +slouchy figures stood confronting their chief.</p> + +<p>"That's capital!" said Sir Percy merrily.</p> + +<p>"Now for Mademoiselle de Marny."</p> + +<p>Hardly had he spoken when the door of the adjoining room was pushed +open, and a horrible apparition stood before the men. A woman in +filthy bodice and skirt, with face covered in grime, her yellow hair, +matted and greasy, thrust under a dirty and crumpled cap.</p> + +<p>A shout of rapturous delight greeted this uncanny apparition.</p> + +<p>Juliette, like the true woman she was, had found all her energy and +spirits now that she felt that she had an important part to play. She +woke from her dream to realise that noble friends had risked their +lives for the man she loved and for her.</p> + +<p>Of herself she did not think; she only remembered that her presence of +mind, her physical and mental strength, would be needed to carry the +rescue to a successful end.</p> + +<p>Therefore with the rags of a Paris <i>tricotteuse</i> she had also donned +her personality. She played her part valiantly, and one look at the +perfection of her disguise was sufficient to assure the leader of this +band of heroes that his instructions would be carried through to the +letter.</p> + +<p>Déroulède too now looked the ragged <i>sansculotte</i> to the life, with +bare and muddy feet, frayed breeches, and shabby, black-shag spencer. +The four men stood waiting together with Juliette, whilst Sir Percy +gave them his final instructions.</p> + +<p>"We'll mix with the crowd," he said, "and do all that the crowd does. +It is for us to see that that unruly crowd does what we want. +Mademoiselle de Marny, a thousand congratulations. I entreat you to +take hold of my friend Déroulède's hand, and not to let go of it, on +any pretext whatever. La! not a difficult task, I ween," he added, +with his genial smile; "and yours, Déroulède, is equally easy. I +enjoin you to take charge of Mademoiselle Juliette, and on no account +to leave her side until we are out of Paris."</p> + +<p>"Out of Paris!" echoed Déroulède, with a troubled sigh.</p> + +<p>"Aye!" rejoined Sir Percy boldly; "out of Paris! with a howling mob at +our heels causing the authorities to take double precautions. And +above all remember, friends, that our rallying cry is the shrill call +of the sea-mew thrice repeated. Follow it until you are outside the +gates of Paris. Once there, listen for it again; it will lead you to +freedom and safety at last. Aye! Outside Paris, by the grace of God."</p> + +<p>The hearts of his hearers thrilled as they heard him. Who could help +but follow this brave and gallant adventurer, with the magic voice and +the noble bearing?</p> + +<p>"And now <i>en route</i> !" said Blakeney finally, "that ass Santerre will +have dispersed the pack of yelling hyenas with his cavalry by now. +They'll to the Temple prison to find their prey; we'll in their wake. +<i>A moi,</i> friends! and remember the sea-gull's cry."</p> + +<p>Déroulède drew Juliette's hand in his.</p> + +<p>"We are ready," he said; "and God bless the Scarlet Pimpernel."</p> + +<p>Then the five men, with Juliette in their midst, went out into the +street once more.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br /><br /> +Père Lachaise.</h3> + + +<p>It was not difficult to guess which way the crowd had gone; yells, +hoots, and hoarse cries could be heard from the farther side of the +river.</p> + +<p>Citizen Santerne had been unable to keep the mob back until the +arrival of the cavalry reinforcements. Within five minutes of the +abduction of Déroulède and Juliette the crowd had broken through the +line of soldiers, and had stormed the cart, only to find it empty, and +the prey disappeared.</p> + +<p>"They are safe in the Temple by now!" shouted Santerne hoarsely, in +savage triumph at seeing them all baffled.</p> + +<p>At first it seemed as if the wrath of the infuriated populace, fooled +in its lust for vengeance, would vent itself against the commandant of +Paris and his soldiers; for a moment even Santerre's ruddy cheeks had +paled at the sudden vision of this unlooked for danger.</p> + +<p>Then just as suddenly the cry was raised.</p> + +<p>"To the Temple!"</p> + +<p>"To the Temple! To the Temple!" came in ready response.</p> + +<p>The cry was soon taken up by the entire crowd, and in less than two +minutes the purlieus of the Hall of Justice were deserted, and the +Pont St Michel, then the Cité and the Pont au Change, swarmed with the +rioters. Thence along the north bank of the river, and up the Rue du +Temple, the people still yelling, muttering, singing the "<i>Ça ira,</i> " +and shouting: "<i>A la lanterne! A la lanterne!</i> "</p> + +<p>Sir Percy Blakeney and his little band of followers had found the Pont +Neuf and the adjoining streets practically deserted. A few stragglers +from the crowd, soaked through with the rain, their enthusiasm damped, +and their throats choked with the mist, were sulkily returning to +their homes.</p> + +<p>The desultory group of six <i>sansculottes</i> attracted little or no +attention, and Sir Percy boldly challenged every passer-by.</p> + +<p>"The way to the Rue du Temple, citizen?" he asked once or twice, or:</p> + +<p>"Have they hung the traitor yet? Can you tell me, citizeness?"</p> + +<p>A grunt or an oath were the usual replies, but no one took any further +notice of the gigantic coal-heaver and his ragged friends.</p> + +<p>At the corner of one of the cross streets, between the Rue du Temple +and the Rue des Archives, Sir Percy Blakeney suddenly turned to his +followers:</p> + +<p>"We are close to the rabble now," he said in a whisper, and speaking +in English; "do you all follow the nearest stragglers, and get as soon +as possible into the thickest of the crowd. We'll meet again outside +the prison—and remember the sea-gull's cry."</p> + +<p>He did not wait for an answer, and presently disappeared in the mist.</p> + +<p>Already a few stragglers, hangers-on of the multitude, were gradually +coming into view, and the yells could be distinctly heard. The mob had +evidently assembled in the great square outside the prison, and was +loudly demanding the object of its wrath.</p> + +<p>The moment for cool-headed action was at hand. The Scarlet Pimpernel +had planned the whole thing, but it was for his followers and for +those, whom he was endeavouring to rescue from certain death, to help +him heart and soul.</p> + +<p>Déroulède's grasp tightened on Juliette's little hand.</p> + +<p>"Are you frightened, my beloved?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Not whilst you are near me," she murmured in reply.</p> + +<p>A few more minutes' walk up the Rue des Archives and they were in the +thick of the crowd. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, Lord Anthony Dewhurst, and +Lord Hastings, the three Englishmen, were in front; Déroulède and +Juliette immediately behind them.</p> + +<p>The mob itself now carried them along. A motley throng they were, +soaked through with the rain, drunk with their own baffled rage, and +with the brandy which they had imbibed.</p> + +<p>Everyone was shouting; the women louder than the rest; one of them was +dragging the length of rope, which might still be useful.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ça ira! ça ira! A la lanterne! A la lanterne! les traîtres!</i> "</p> + +<p>And Déroulède, holding Juliette by the hand, shouted lustily with +them:</p> + +<p>"<i>Ça ira!</i> "</p> + +<p>Sir Andrew Ffoulkes turned, and laughed. It was rare sport for these +young bucks, and they all entered into the spirit of the situation. +They all shouted "<i>A la lanterne!</i> " egging and encouraging those +around them.</p> + +<p>Déroulède and Juliette felt the intoxication of the adventure. They +were drunk with the joy of their reunion, and seized with the wild, +mad, passionate desire for freedom and for life ... Life and love!</p> + +<p>So they pushed and jostled on in the mud, followed the crowd, sang and +yelled louder than any of them. Was not that very crowd the great +bulwark of their safety?</p> + +<p>As well have sought for the proverbial needle in the haystack, as for +two escaped prisoners in this mad, heaving throng.</p> + +<p>The large open space in front of the Temple Prison looked like one +great, seething, black mass.</p> + +<p>The darkness was almost thick here, the ground like a morass, with +inches of clayey mud, which stuck to everything, whilst the sparse +lanterns, hung to the prison walls and beneath the portico, threw +practically no light into the square.</p> + +<p>As the little band, composed of the three Englishmen, and of +Déroulède, holding Juliette by the hand, emerged into the open space, +they heard a strident cry, like that of a sea-mew thrice repeated, and +a hoarse voice shouting from out the darkness:</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi!</i> I'll not believe that the prisoners are in the Temple now! +It is my belief, friends, citizens, that we have been fooled once +more!"</p> + +<p>The voice, with its strange, unaccountable accent, which seemed to +belong to no province of France, dominated the almost deafening noise; +it penetrated through, even into the brandy-soddened minds of the +multitude, for the suggestion was received with renewed shouts of the +wildest wrath.</p> + +<p>Like one great, living, seething mass the crowd literally bore down +upon the huge and frowning prison. Pushing, jostling, yelling, the +women screaming, the men cursing, it seemed as if that awesome day— +the 14th of July—was to have its sanguinary counterpart to-night, as +if the Temple were destined to share the fate of the Bastille.</p> + +<p>Obedient to their leader's orders the three young Englishmen remained +in the thick of the crowd: together with Déroulède they contrived to +form a sturdy rampart round Juliette, effectually protecting her +against rough buffetings.</p> + +<p>On their right, towards the direction of Ménilmontant, the sea-mew's +cry at intervals gave the strength and courage.</p> + +<p>The foremost rank of the crowd had reached the portico of the +building, and, with howls and snatches of their gutter song, were +loudly clamouring for the guardian of the grim prison.</p> + +<p>No one appeared; the great gates with their massive bars and hinges +remained silent and defiant.</p> + +<p>The crowd was becoming dangerous: whispers of the victory of the +Bastille, five years ago, engendered thoughts of pillage and of arson.</p> + +<p>Then the strident voice was heard again:</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardi!</i> the prisoners are not in the Temple! The dolts have allowed +them to escape, and now are afraid of the wrath of the people!"</p> + +<p>It was strange how easily the mob assimilated this new idea. Perhaps +the dark, frowning block of massive buildings had overawed them with +its peaceful strength, perhaps the dripping rain and oozing clay had +damped their desire for an immediate storming of the grim citadel; +perhaps it was merely the human characteristic of a wish for something +new, something unexpected.</p> + +<p>Be that as it may, the cry was certainly taken up with marvellous, +quick-change rapidity.</p> + +<p>"The prisoners have escaped! The prisoners have escaped!"</p> + +<p>Some were for proceeding with the storming of the Temple, but they +were in the minority. All along, the crowd had been more inclined for +private revenge than for martial deeds of valour; the Bastille had +been taken by daylight; the effort might not have been so successful +on a pitch-black night such as this, when one could not see one's hand +before one's eyes, and the drizzling rain went through to the marrow.</p> + +<p>"They've got through one of the barriers by now!" suggested the same +voice from out the darkness.</p> + +<p>"The barriers—the barriers!" came in sheeplike echo from the crowd.</p> + +<p>The little group of fugitives and their friends tightened their hold +on one another.</p> + +<p>They had understood at last.</p> + +<p>"It is for us to see that the crowd does what we want," the Scarlet +Pimpernel had said.</p> + +<p>He wanted it to take him and his friends out of Paris, and, by God! he +was like to succeed.</p> + +<p>Juliette's heart within her beat almost to choking; her strong little +hand gripped Déroulède's fingers with the wild strength of a mad +exultation.</p> + +<p>Next to the man to whom she had given her love and her very soul she +admired and looked up to the remarkable and noble adventurer, the +high-born and exquisite dandy, who with grime-covered face, and strong +limbs encased in filthy clothes, was playing the most glorious part +ever enacted upon the stage.</p> + +<p>"To the barriers—to the barriers!"</p> + +<p>Like a herd of wild horses, driven by the whip of the herdsmen, the +mob began to scatter in all directions. Not knowing what it wanted, +not knowing what it would find, half forgetting the very cause and +object of its wrath, it made one gigantic rush for the gates of the +great city through which the prisoners were supposed to have escaped.</p> + +<p>The three Englishmen and Déroulède, with Juliette well protected in +their midst, had not joined the general onrush as yet. The crowd in +the open place was still very thick, the outward-branching streets +were very narrow: through these the multitude, scampering, hurrying, +scurrying, like a human torrent let out of a whirlpool, rushed down +headlong towards the barriers.</p> + +<p>Up the Rue Turbigo to the Belleville gate, the Rue des Filles, and the +Rue du Chemin Vert, towards Popincourt, they ran, knocking each other +down, jostling the weaker ones on one side, trampling others +underfoot. They were all rough, coarse creatures, accustomed to these +wild bousculades, ready to pick themselves up, again after any number +of falls; whilst the mud was slimy and soft to tumble on, and those +who did the trampling had no shoes on their feet.</p> + +<p>They rushed out from the dark, open place, these creatures of the +night, into streets darker still.</p> + +<p>On they ran—on! on!—now in thick, heaving masses, anon in loose, +straggling groups—some north, some south, some east, some west.</p> + +<p>But it was from the east that came the seagull's cry.</p> + +<p>The little band ran boldly towards the east. Down the Rue de la +République they followed their leader's call. The crowd was very thick +here; the Barrière Ménilmontant was close by, and beyond it there was +the cemetery of Père Lachaise. It was the nearest gate to the Temple +Prison, and the mob wanted to be up and doing, not to spend too much +time running along the muddy streets and getting wet and cold, but to +repeat the glorious exploits of the 14th of July, and capture the +barriers of Paris by force of will rather than force of arms.</p> + +<p>In this rushing mob the four men, with Juliette in their midst, +remained quite unchallenged, mere units in an unruly crowd.</p> + +<p>In a quarter of an hour Ménilmontant was reached.</p> + +<p>The great gates of the city were well guarded by detachments of the +National Guard, each under command of an officer. Twenty strong at +most—what was that against such a throng?</p> + +<p>Who had ever dreamed of Paris being stormed from within?</p> + +<p>At every gate to the north and east of the city there was now a rabble +some four or five thousand strong, wanting it knew not what. Everyone +had forgotten what it was that caused him or her to rush on so +blindly, so madly, towards the nearest barrier.</p> + +<p>But everyone knew that he or she wanted to get through that barrier, +to attack the soldiery, to knock down the captain of the Guard.</p> + +<p>And with a wild cry every city gate was stormed.</p> + +<p>Like one huge wind-tossed wave, the populace on that memorable night +of Fructidor, broke against the cordon of soldiery, that vainly tried +to keep it back. Men and women, drunk with brandy and exultation, +shouted "<i>Quatorze Juillet!</i> " and amidst curses and threats demanded +the opening of the gates.</p> + +<p>The people of France <i>would</i> have its will.</p> + +<p>Was it not the supreme lord and ruler of the land, the arbiter of the +Fate of this great, beautiful, and maddened country?</p> + +<p>The National Guard was powerless; the officers in command could offer +but feeble resistance.</p> + +<p>The desultory fire, which in the darkness and the pouring rain did +very little harm, had the effect of further infuriating the mob.</p> + +<p>The drizzle had turned to a deluge, a veritable heavy summer downpour, +with occasional distant claps of thunder and incessant sheet-lightning, +which ever and anon illumined with its weird, fantastic flash this +heaving throng, these begrimed faces, crowned with red caps of +Liberty, these witchlike female creatures with wet, straggly hair and +gaunt, menacing arms.</p> + +<p>Within half-an-hour the people of Paris was outside its own gates.</p> + +<p>Victory was complete. The Guard did not resist; the officers had +surrendered; the great and mighty rabble had had its way.</p> + +<p>Exultant, it swarmed around the fortifications and along the <i>terrains +vagues</i> which it had conquered by its will.</p> + +<p>But the downpour was continuous, and with victory came satiety— +satiety coupled with wet skins, muddy feet, tired, wearied bodies, and +throats parched with continual shouting.</p> + +<p>At Ménilmontant, where the crowd had been thickest, the tempers +highest, and the yells most strident, there now stretched before this +tired, excited throng, the peaceful vastness of the cemetery of Père +Lachaise.</p> + +<p>The great alleys of sombre monuments, the weird cedars with their +fantastic branches, like arms of a hundred ghosts, quelled and awed +these hooting masses of degraded humanity.</p> + +<p>The silent majesty of this city of the dead seemed to frown with +withering scorn on the passions of the sister city.</p> + +<p>Instinctively the rabble was cowed. The cemetery looked dark, dismal, +and deserted. The flashes of lightning seemed to reveal ghostlike +processions of the departed heroes of France, wandering silently +amidst the tombs.</p> + +<p>And the populace turned with a shudder away from this vast place of +eternal peace.</p> + +<p>From within the cemetery gates, there was suddenly heard the sound of +a sea-mew calling thrice to its mate. And five dark figures, wrapped +in cloaks, gradually detached themselves from the throng, and one by +one slipped into the grounds of Père Lachaise through that break in +the wall, which is quite close to the main entrance.</p> + +<p>Once more the sea-gull's cry.</p> + +<p>Those in the crowd who heard it, shivered beneath their dripping +clothes. They thought it was a soul in pain risen from one of the +graves, and some of the women, forgetting the last few years of +godlessness, hastily crossed themselves, and muttered an invocation to +the Virgin Mary.</p> + +<p>Within the gates all was silent and at peace. The sodden earth gave +forth no echo of the muffled footsteps, which slowly crept towards the +massive block of stone, which covers the graves of the immortal lovers +—Abélard and Heloïse.</p> + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX<br /><br /> +Conclusion.</h3> + + +<p>There is but little else to record.</p> + +<p>History has told us how, shamefaced, tired, dripping, the great, +all-powerful people of Paris quietly slunk back to their homes, even +before the first cock-crow in the villages beyond the gates, acclaimed +the pale streak of dawn.</p> + +<p>But long before that, even before the church bells of the great city +had tolled the midnight hour, Sir Percy Blakeney and his little band +of followers had reached the little tavern which stands close to the +farthest gate of Père Lachaise.</p> + +<p>Without a word, like six silent ghosts, they had traversed the vast +cemetery, and reached the quiet hostelry, where the sounds of the +seething revolution only came, attenuated by their passage through the +peaceful city of the dead.</p> + +<p>English gold had easily purchased silence and good will from the +half-starved keeper of this wayside inn. A huge travelling chaise +already stood in readiness, and four good Flanders horses had been +pawing the ground impatiently for the past half hour. From the window +of the chaise old Pétronelle's face, wet with anxious tears, was +peering anxiously.</p> + +<p>A cry of joy and surprise escaped Déroulède and Juliette, and both +turned, with a feeling akin to awe, towards the wonderful man who had +planned and carried through this bold adventure.</p> + +<p>"Nay, my friend," said Sir Percy, speaking more especially to +Déroulède; "if you only knew how simple it all was! Gold can do so +many things, and my only merit seems to be the possession of plenty of +that commodity. You told me yourself how you had provided for old +Pétronelle. Under the most solemn assurance that she would meet her +young mistress here, I got her to leave Paris. She came out most +bravely this morning in one of the market carts. She is so obviously a +woman of the people, that no one suspected her. As for the worthy +couple who keep this wayside hostel, they have been well paid, and +money soon procures a chaise and horses. My English friends and I, we +have our own passports, and one for Mademoiselle Juliette, who must +travel as an English lady, with her old nurse, Pétronelle. There are +some decent clothes in readiness for us all in the inn. A quarter of +an hour in which to don them and we must on our way. You can use your +own passport, of course; your arrest has been so very sudden that it +has not yet been cancelled, and we have an eight hours' start of our +enemies. They'll wake up to-morrow morning, begad! and find that you +have slipped through their fingers."</p> + +<p>He spoke with easy carelessness, and that slow drawl of his, as if he +were talking airy nothings in a London drawing-room, instead of +recounting the most daring, most colossal piece of effrontery the +adventurous brain of man could conceive.</p> + +<p>Déroulède could say nothing. His own noble heart was too full of +gratitude towards his friend to express it all in a few words.</p> + +<p>And time, of course, was precious.</p> + +<p>Within the prescribed quarter of an hour the little band of heroes had +doffed their grimy, ragged clothes, and now appeared dressed as +respectable bourgeois of Paris <i>en route</i> for the country. Sir Percy +Blakeney had donned the livery of a coachman of a well-to-do house, +whilst Lord Anthony Dewhurst wore that of an English lacquey.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later Déroulède had lifted Juliette into the travelling +chaise, and in spite of fatigue, of anxiety, and emotion, it was +immeasurable happiness to feel her arm encircling his shoulders in +perfect joy and trust.</p> + +<p>Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and Lord Hastings joined them inside the chaise; +Lord Anthony sat next to Sir Percy on the box.</p> + +<p>And whilst the crowd of Paris was still wondering why it had stormed +the gates of the city, the escaped prisoners were borne along the +muddy roads of France at breakneck speed northward to the coast.</p> + +<p>Sir Percy Blakeney held the reins himself. With his noble heart full +of joy, the gallant adventurer himself drove his friends to safety.</p> + +<p>They had an eight hours' start, and The League of The Scarlet +Pimpernel had done its work thoroughly: well provided with passports, +and with relays awaiting them at every station of fifty miles or so, +the journey, though wearisome was free from further adventure.</p> + +<p>At Le Havre the little party embarked on board Sir Percy Blakeney's +yacht the <i>Daydream,</i> where they met Madame Déroulède and Anne Mie.</p> + +<p>The two ladies, acting under the instructions of Sir Percy, had as +originally arranged, pursued their journey northwards, to the populous +seaport town.</p> + +<p>Anne Mie's first meeting with Juliette was intensely pathetic. The +poor little cripple had spent the last few days in an agony of +remorse, whilst the heavy travelling chaise bore her farther and +farther away from Paris.</p> + +<p>She thought Juliette dead, and Paul a prey to despair, and her tender +soul ached when she remembered that it was she who had given the final +deadly stab to the heart of the man she loved.</p> + +<p>Hers was the nature born to abnegation: aye! and one destined to find +bliss therein. And when one glance in Paul Déroulède's face told her +that she was forgiven, her cup of joy at seeing him happy beside his +beloved, was unalloyed with any bitterness.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was in the beautiful, rosy dawn of one of the last days of that +memorable Fructidor, when Juliette and Paul Déroulède, standing on +the deck of the <i>Daydream,</i> saw the shores of France gradually receding +from their view.</p> + +<p>Déroulède's arm was round his beloved, her golden hair, fanned by the +breeze, brushed lightly against his cheek.</p> + +<p>"Madonna!" he murmured.</p> + +<p>She turned her head to him. It was the first time that they were +quite alone, the first time that all thought of danger had become a +mere dream.</p> + +<p>What had the future in store for them, in that beautiful, strange land +to which the graceful yacht was swiftly bearing them?</p> + +<p>England, the land of freedom, would shelter their happiness and their +joy; and they looked out towards the North, where lay, still hidden in +the arms of the distant horizon, the white cliffs of Albion, whilst +the mist even now was wrapping in its obliterating embrace the shores +of the land where they had both suffered, where they had both learned +to love.</p> + +<p>He took her in his arms.</p> + +<p>"My wife!" he whispered.</p> + +<p>The rosy light touched her golden hair; he raised her face to his, and +soul met soul in one long, passionate kiss.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of I Will Repay, by Baroness Emmuska Orczy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I WILL REPAY *** + +***** This file should be named 5090-h.htm or 5090-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/9/5090/ + +Produced by Walter Debeuf, Project Gutenberg volunteer. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: I Will Repay + +Author: Baroness Emmuska Orczy + +Posting Date: October 4, 2011 [EBook #5090] +Release Date: February, 2004 +[Last updated: July 20, 2014] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I WILL REPAY *** + + + + +Produced by Walter Debeuf, Project Gutenberg volunteer. + + + + + +I Will Repay. + +By Baroness Orczy. + + + + +PROLOGUE. + + +I + +Paris: 1783. + + +"Coward! Coward! Coward!" + +The words rang out, clear, strident, passionate, in a crescendo of +agonised humiliation. + +The boy, quivering with rage, had sprung to his feet, and, losing his +balance, he fell forward clutching at the table, whilst with a +convulsive movement of the lids, he tried in vain to suppress the tears +of shame which were blinding him. + +"Coward!" He tried to shout the insult so that all might hear, but his +parched throat refused him service, his trembling hand sought the +scattered cards upon the table, he collected them together, quickly, +nervously, fingering them with feverish energy, then he hurled them at +the man opposite, whilst with a final effort he still contrived to +mutter: "Coward!" + +The older men tried to interpose, but the young ones only laughed, quite +prepared for the adventure which must inevitably ensue, the only +possible ending to a quarrel such as this. + +Conciliation or arbitration was out of the question. Deroulede should +have known better than to speak disrespectfully of Adele de Montcheri, +when the little Vicomte de Marny's infatuation for the notorious beauty +had been the talk of Paris and Versailles these many months past. + +Adele was very lovely and a veritable tower of greed and egotism. The +Marnys were rich and the little Vicomte very young, and just now the +brightly-plumaged hawk was busy plucking the latest pigeon, newly +arrived from its ancestral cote. + +The boy was still in the initial stage of his infatuation. To him Adele +was a paragon of all the virtues, and he would have done battle on her +behalf against the entire aristocracy of France, in a vain endeavour to +justify his own exalted opinion of one of the most dissolute women of +the epoch. He was a first-rate swordsman too, and his friends had +already learned that it was best to avoid all allusions to Adele's +beauty and weaknesses. + +But Deroulede was a noted blunderer. He was little versed in the manners +and tones of that high society in which, somehow, he still seemed an +intruder. But for his great wealth, no doubt, he never would have been +admitted within the intimate circle of aristocratic France. His ancestry +was somewhat doubtful and his coat-of-arms unadorned with quarterings. + +But little was known of his family or the origin of its wealth; it was +only known that his father had suddenly become the late King's dearest +friend, and commonly surmised that Deroulede gold had on more than one +occasion filled the emptied coffers of the First Gentleman of France. + +Deroulede had not sought the present quarrel. He had merely blundered in +that clumsy way of his, which was no doubt a part of the inheritance +bequeathed to him by his bourgeois ancestry. + +He knew nothing of the little Vicomte's private affairs, still less of +his relationship with Adele, but he knew enough of the world and enough +of Paris to be acquainted with the lady's reputation. He hated at all +times to speak of women. He was not what in those days would be termed a +ladies' man, and was even somewhat unpopular with the sex. But in this +instance the conversation had drifted in that direction, and when +Adele's name was mentioned, every one became silent, save the little +Vicomte, who waxed enthusiastic. + +A shrug of the shoulders on Deroulede's part had aroused the boy's ire, +then a few casual words, and, without further warning, the insult had +been hurled and the cards thrown in the older man's face. + +Deroulede did not move from his seat. He sat erect and placid, one knee +crossed over the other, his serious, rather swarthy face perhaps a shade +paler than usual: otherwise it seemed as if the insult had never reached +his ears, or the cards struck his cheek. + +He had perceived his blunder, just twenty seconds too late. Now he was +sorry for the boy and angered with himself, but it was too late to draw +back. To avoid a conflict he would at this moment have sacrificed half +his fortune, but not one particle of his dignity. + +He knew and respected the old Duc de Marny, a feeble old man now, almost +a dotard whose hitherto spotless _blason_, the young Vicomte, his son, +was doing his best to besmirch. + +When the boy fell forward, blind and drunk with rage, Deroulede leant +towards him automatically, quite kindly, and helped him to his feet. He +would have asked the lad's pardon for his own thoughtlessness, had that +been possible: but the stilted code of so-called honour forbade so +logical a proceeding. It would have done no good, and could but imperil +his own reputation without averting the traditional sequel. + +The panelled walls of the celebrated gaming saloon had often witnessed +scenes such as this. All those present acted by routine. The etiquette +of duelling prescribed certain formalities, and these were strictly but +rapidly adhered to. + +The young Vicomte was quickly surrounded by a close circle of friends. +His great name, his wealth, his father's influence, had opened for him +every door in Versailles and Paris. At this moment he might have had an +army of seconds to support him in the coming conflict. + +Deroulede for a while was left alone near the card table, where the +unsnuffed candles began smouldering in their sockets. He had risen to +his feet, somewhat bewildered at the rapid turn of events. His dark, +restless eyes wandered for a moment round the room, as if in quick +search for a friend. + +But where the Vicomte was at home by right, Deroulede had only been +admitted by reason of his wealth. His acquaintances and sycophants were +many, but his friends very few. + +For the first time this fact was brought home to him. Every one in the +room must have known and realised that he had not wilfully sought this +quarrel, that throughout he had borne himself as any gentleman would, +yet now, when the issue was so close at hand, no one came forward to +stand by him. + +"For form's sake, monsieur, will you choose your seconds?" + +It was the young Marquis de Villefranche who spoke, a little haughtily, +with a certain ironical condescension towards the rich parvenu, who was +about to have the honour of crossing swords with one of the noblest +gentlemen in France. + +"I pray you, Monsieur le Marquis," rejoined Deroulede coldly, "to make +the choice for me. You see, I have few friends in Paris." + +The Marquis bowed, and gracefully flourished his lace handkerchief. He +was accustomed to being appealed to in all matters pertaining to +etiquette, to the toilet, to the latest cut in coats, and the procedure +in duels. Good-natured, foppish, and idle, he felt quite happy and in +his element thus to be made chief organiser of the tragic farce, about +to be enacted on the parquet floor of the gaming saloon. + +He looked about the room for a while, scrutinising the faces of those +around him. The gilded youth was crowding round De Marny; a few older +men stood in a group at the farther end of the room: to these the +Marquis turned, and addressing one of them, an elderly man with a +military bearing and a shabby brown coat: + +"Mon Colonel," he said, with another flourishing bow; "I am deputed by +M. Deroulede to provide him with seconds for this affair of honour, may +I call upon you to ..." + +"Certainly, certainly," replied the Colonel. "I am not intimately +acquainted with M. Deroulede, but since you stand sponsor, M. le Marquis +..." + +"Oh!" rejoined the Marquis, lightly, "a mere matter of form, you know. +M. Deroulede belongs to the entourage of Her Majesty. He is a man of +honour. But I am not his sponsor. Marny is my friend, and if you prefer +not to ..." + +"Indeed I am entirely at M. Deroulede's service," said the Colonel, who +had thrown a quick, scrutinising glance at the isolated figure near the +card table, "if he will accept my services ..." + +"He will be very glad to accept, my dear Colonel," whispered the Marquis +with an ironical twist of his aristocratic lips. "He has no friends in +our set, and if you and De Quettare will honour him, I think he should +be grateful." + +M. de Quettare, adjutant to M. le Colonel, was ready to follow in the +footsteps of his chief, and the two men, after the prescribed +salutations to M. le Marquis de Villefranche, went across to speak to +Deroulede. + +"If you will accept our services, monsieur," began the Colonel abruptly, +"mine, and my adjutant's, M. de Quettare, we place ourselves entirely at +your disposal." + +"I thank you, messieurs," rejoined Deroulede. "The whole thing is a +farce, and that young man is a fool; but I have been in the wrong and +..." + +"You would wish to apologise?" queried the Colonel icily. + +The worthy soldier had heard something of Deroulede's reputed bourgeois +ancestry. This suggestion of an apology was no doubt in accordance with +the customs of the middle-classes, but the Colonel literally gasped at +the unworthiness of the proceeding. An apology? Bah! Disgusting! +cowardly! beneath the dignity of any gentleman, however wrong he might +be. How could two soldiers of His Majesty's army identify themselves +with such doings? + +But Deroulede seemed unconscious of the enormity of his suggestion. + +"If I could avoid a conflict," he said, "I would tell the Vicomte that I +had no knowledge of his admiration for the lady we were discussing and +..." + +"Are you so very much afraid of getting a sword scratch, monsieur?" +interrupted the Colonel impatiently, whilst M. de Quettare elevated a +pair of aristocratic eyebrows in bewilderment at such an extraordinary +display of bourgeois cowardice. + +"You mean, Monsieur le Colonel?"--queried Deroulede. + +"That you must either fight the Vicomte de Marny to-night, or clear out +of Paris to-morrow. Your position in our set would become untenable," +retorted the Colonel, not unkindly, for in spite of Deroulede's +extraordinary attitude, there was nothing in his bearing or his +appearance that suggested cowardice or fear. + +"I bow to your superior knowledge of your friends, M. le Colonel," +responded Deroulede, as he silently drew his sword from its sheath. + +The centre of the saloon was quickly cleared. The seconds measured the +length of the swords and then stood behind the antagonists, slightly in +advance of the groups of spectators, who stood massed all round the +room. + +They represented the flower of what France had of the best and noblest +in name, in lineage, in chivalry, in that year of grace 1783. The +storm-cloud which a few years hence was destined to break over their +heads, sweeping them from their palaces to the prison and the +guillotine, was only gathering very slowly in the dim horizon of +squalid, starving Paris: for the next half-dozen years they would still +dance and gamble, fight and flirt, surround a tottering throne, and +hoodwink a weak monarch. The Fates' avenging sword still rested in its +sheath; the relentless, ceaseless wheel still bore them up in their +whirl of pleasure; the downward movement had only just begun: the cry of +the oppressed children of France had not yet been heard above the din of +dance music and lovers' serenades. + +The young Duc de Chateaudun was there, he who, nine years later, went to +the guillotine on that cold September morning, his hair dressed in the +latest fashion, the finest Mechlin lace around his wrists, playing a +final game of piquet with his younger brother, as the tumbril bore them +along through the hooting, yelling crowd of the half-naked starvelings +of Paris. + +There was the Vicomte de Mirepoix, who, a few years later, standing on +the platform of the guillotine, laid a bet with M. de Miranges that his +own blood would flow bluer than that of any other head cut off that day +in France. Citizen Samson heard the bet made, and when De Mirepoix's +head fell into the basket, the headsman lifted it up for M. de Miranges +to see. The latter laughed. + +"Mirepoix was always a braggart," he said lightly, as he laid his head +upon the block. + +"Who'll take my bet that my blood turns out to be bluer than his?" + +But of all these comedies, these tragico-farces of later years, none who +were present on that night, when the Vicomte de Marny fought Paul +Deroulede, had as yet any presentiment. + +They watched the two men fighting, with the same casual interest, at +first, which they would have bestowed on the dancing of a new movement +in the minuet. + +De Marny came of a race that had wielded the sword of many centuries, +but he was hot, excited, not a little addled with wine and rage. +Deroulede was lucky; he would come out of the affair with a slight +scratch. + +A good swordsman too, that wealthy parvenu. It was interesting to watch +his sword-play: very quiet at first, no feint or parry, scarcely a +riposte, only _en garde,_ always _en garde_ very carefully, steadily, +ready for his antagonist at every turn and in every circumstance. + +Gradually the circle round the combatants narrowed. A few discreet +exclamations of admiration greeted Deroulede's most successful parry. De +Marny was getting more and more excited, the older man more and more +sober and reserved. + +A thoughtless lunge placed the little Vicomte at his opponent's mercy. +The next instant he was disarmed, and the seconds were pressing forward +to end the conflict. + +Honour was satisfied: the parvenu and the scion of the ancient race had +crossed swords over the reputation of one of the most dissolute women in +France. Deroulede's moderation was a lesson to all the hot-headed young +bloods who toyed with their lives, their honour, their reputation as +lightly as they did with their lace-edged handkerchiefs and gold +snuff-boxes. + +Already Deroulede had drawn back. With the gentle tact peculiar to +kindly people, he avoided looking at his disarmed antagonist. But +something in the older man's attitude seemed to further nettle the +over-stimulated sensibility of the young Vicomte. + +"This is no child's play, monsieur," he said excitedly. "I demand full +satisfaction." + +"And are you not satisfied?" queried Deroulede. "You have borne yourself +bravely, you have fought in honour of your liege lady. I, on the other +hand ..." + +"You," shouted the boy hoarsely, "you shall publicly apologise to a +noble and virtuous woman whom you have outraged--now--at--once--on your +knees ..." + +"You are mad, Vicomte," rejoined Deroulede coldly. "I am willing to ask +your forgiveness for my blunder ..." + +"An apology--in public--on your knees ..." + +The boy had become more and more excited. He had suffered humiliation +after humiliation. He was a mere lad, spoilt, adulated, pampered from +his boyhood: the wine had got into his head, the intoxication of rage +and hatred blinded his saner judgment. + +"Coward!" he shouted again and again. + +His seconds tried to interpose, but he waved them feverishly aside. He +would listen to no one. He saw no one save the man who had insulted +Adele, and who was heaping further insults upon her, by refusing this +public acknowledgment of her virtues. + +De Marny hated Deroulede at this moment with the most deadly hatred the +heart of man can conceive. The older man's calm, his chivalry, his +consideration only enhanced the boy's anger and shame. + +The hubbub had become general. Everyone seemed carried away with this +strange fever of enmity, which was seething in the Vicomte's veins. Most +of the young men crowded round De Marny, doing their best to pacify him. +The Marquis de Villefranche declared that the matter was getting quite +outside the rules. + +No one took much notice of Deroulede. In the remote corners of the +saloon a few elderly dandies were laying bets as to the ultimate issue +of the quarrel. + +Deroulede, however, was beginning to lose his temper. He had no friends +in that room, and therefore there was no sympathetic observer there, to +note the gradual darkening of his eyes, like the gathering of a cloud +heavy with the coming storm. + +"I pray you, messieurs, let us cease the argument," he said at last, in +a loud, impatient voice. "M. le Vicomte de Marny desires a further +lesson, and, by God! he shall have it. En garde, M. le Vicomte!" + +The crowd quickly drew back. The seconds once more assumed the bearing +and imperturbable expression which their important function demanded. +The hubbub ceased as the swords began to clash. + +Everyone felt that farce was turning to tragedy. + +And yet it was obvious from the first that Deroulede merely meant once +more to disarm his antagonist, to give him one more lesson, a little +more severe perhaps than the last. He was such a brilliant swordsman, and +De Marny was so excited, that the advantage was with him from the very +first. + +How it all happened, nobody afterwards could say. There is no doubt that +the little Vicomte's sword-play had become more and more wild: that he +uncovered himself in the most reckless way, whilst lunging wildly at his +opponent's breast, until at last, in one of these mad, unguarded +moments, he seemed literally to throw himself upon Deroulede's weapon. + +The latter tried with lightning-swift motion of the wrist to avoid the +fatal issue, but it was too late, and without a sigh or groan, scarce a +tremor, the Vicomte de Marny fell. + +The sword dropped out of his hand, and it was Deroulede himself who +caught the boy in his arms. + +It had all occurred so quickly and suddenly that no one had realised it +all, until it was over, and the lad was lying prone on the ground, his +elegant blue satin coat stained with red, and his antagonist bending +over him. + +There was nothing more to be done. Etiquette demanded that Deroulede +should withdraw. He was not allowed to do anything for the boy whom he +had so unwillingly sent to his death. + +As before, no one took much notice of him. Silence, the awesome silence +caused by the presence of the great Master, fell upon all those around. +Only in the far corner a shrill voice was heard to say: + +"I hold you at five hundred louis, Marquis. The parvenu is a good +swordsman." + +The groups parted as Deroulede walked out of the room, followed by the +Colonel and M. de Quettare, who stood by him to the last. Both were old +and proved soldiers, both had chivalry and courage in them, with which +to do tribute to the brave man whom they had seconded. + +At the door of the establishment, they met the leech who had been +summoned some little time ago to hold himself in readiness for any +eventuality. + +The great eventuality had occurred: it was beyond the leech's learning. +In the brilliantly lighted saloon above, the only son of the Duc de +Marny was breathing his last, whilst Deroulede, wrapping his mantle +closely round him, strode out into the dark street, all alone. + + +II + +The head of the house of Marny was at this time barely seventy years of +age. But he had lived every hour, every minute of his life, from the day +when the Grand Monarque gave him his first appointment as gentleman page +in waiting when he was a mere lad, barely twelve years of age, to the +moment--some ten years ago now--when Nature's relentless hand struck him +down in the midst of his pleasures, withered him in a flash as she does +a sturdy old oak, and nailed him--a cripple, almost a dotard--to the +invalid chair which he would only quit for his last resting place. + +Juliette was then a mere slip of a girl, an old man's child, the spoilt +darling of his last happy years. She had retained some of the melancholy +which had characterised her mother, the gentle lady who had endured so +much so patiently, and who had bequeathed this final tender burden--her +baby girl--to the brilliant, handsome husband whom she had so deeply +loved, and so often forgiven. + +When the Duc de Marny entered the final awesome stage of his gilded +career, that deathlike life which he dragged on for ten years wearily to +the grave, Juliette became his only joy, his one gleam of happiness in +the midst of torturing memories. + +In her deep, tender eyes he would see mirrored the present, the future +for her, and would forget his past, with all its gaieties, its mad, +merry years, that meant nothing now but bitter regrets, and endless +rosary of the might-have-beens. + +And then there was the boy. The little Vicomte, the future Duc de Marny, +who would in _his_ life and with _his_ youth recreate the glory of the +family, and make France once more ring with the echo of brave deeds and +gallant adventures, which had made the name of Marny so glorious in camp +and court. + +The Vicomte was not his father's love, but he was his father's pride, +and from the depths of his huge, cushioned arm-chair, the old man would +listen with delight to stories from Versailles and Paris, the young +Queen and the fascinating Lamballe, the latest play and the newest star +in the theatrical firmament. His feeble, tottering mind would then take +him back, along the paths of memory, to his own youth and his own +triumphs, and in the joy and pride in his son, he would forget himself +for the sake of the boy. + +When they brought the Vicomte home that night, Juliette was the first to +wake. She heard the noise outside the great gates, the coach slowly +drawing up, the ring for the doorkeeper, and the sound of Matthieu's +mutterings, who never liked to be called up in the middle of the night +to let anyone through the gates. + +Somehow a presentiment of evil at once struck the young girl: the +footsteps sounded so heavy and muffled along the flagged courtyard, and +up the great oak staircase. It seemed as if they were carrying something +heavy, something inert or dead. + +She jumped out of bed and hastily wrapped a cloak round her thin girlish +shoulders, and slipped her feet into a pair of heelless shoes, then she +opened her bedroom door and looked out upon the landing. + +Two men, whom she did not know, were walking upstairs abreast, two more +were carrying a heavy burden, and Matthieu was behind moaning and crying +bitterly. + +Juliette did not move. She stood in the doorway rigid as a statue. The +little cortege went past her. No one saw her, for the landings in the +Hotel de Marny are very wide, and Matthieu's lantern only threw a dim, +flickering light upon the floor. + +The men stopped outside the Vicomte's room. Matthieu opened it, and then +the five men disappeared within, with their heavy burden. + +A moment later old Petronelle, who had been Juliette's nurse, and was +now her devoted slave, came to her, all bathed in tears. + +She had just heard the news, and she could scarcely speak, but she +folded the young girl, her dear pet lamb, in her arms, and rocking +herself to and fro she sobbed and eased her aching, motherly heart. + +But Juliette did not cry. It was all so sudden, so awful. She, at +fourteen years of age, had never dreamed of death; and now there was her +brother, her Philippe, in whom she had so much joy, so much pride--he +was dead--and her father must be told ... + +The awfulness of this task seemed to Juliette like unto the last +Judgment Day; a thing so terrible, so appalling, so impossible, that it +would take a host of angels to proclaim its inevitableness. + +The old cripple, with one foot in the grave, whose whole feeble mind, +whose pride, whose final flicker of hope was concentrated in his boy, +must be told that the lad had been brought home dead. + +"Will you tell him, Petronelle?" she asked repeatedly, during the brief +intervals when the violence of the old nurse's grief subsided somewhat. + +"No--no--darling, I cannot--I cannot--" moaned Petronelle, amidst a +renewed shower of sobs. + +Juliette's entire soul--a child's soul it was--rose in revolt at thought +of what was before her. She felt angered with God for having put such a +thing upon her. What right had He to demand a girl of her years to +endure so much mental agony? + +To lose her brother, and to witness her father's grief! She couldn't! +she couldn't! she couldn't! God was evil and unjust! + +A distant tinkle of a bell made all her nerves suddenly quiver. Her +father was awake then? He had heard the noise, and was ringing his bell +to ask for an explanation of the disturbance. + +With one quick movement Juliette jerked herself free from the nurse's +arms, and before Petronelle could prevent her, she had run out of the +room, straight across the dark landing to a large panelled door +opposite. + +The old Duc de Marny was sitting on the edge of his bed, with his long, +thin legs dangling helplessly to the ground. + +Crippled as he was, he had struggled to this upright position, he was +making frantic, miserable efforts to raise himself still further. He, +too, had heard the dull thud of feet, the shuffling gait of men when +carrying a heavy burden. + +His mind flew back half-a-century, to the days when he had witnessed +scenes wherein he was then merely a half-interested spectator. He knew +the cortege composed of valets and friends, with the leech walking +beside that precious burden, which anon would be deposited on the bed +and left to the tender care of a mourning family. + +Who knows what pictures were conjured up before that enfeebled vision? +But he guessed. And when Juliette dashed into his room and stood before +him, pale, trembling, a world of misery in her great eyes, she knew that +he guessed and that she need not tell him. God had already done that for +her. + +Pierre, the old Duc's devoted valet, dressed him as quickly as he could. +M. le Duc insisted on having his _habit de ceremonie,_ the rich suit of +black velvet with the priceless lace and diamond buttons, which he had +worn when they laid le Roi Soleil to his eternal rest. + +He put on his orders and buckled on his sword. The gorgeous clothes, +which had suited him so well in the prime of his manhood, hung somewhat +loosely on his attenuated frame, but he looked a grand and imposing +figure, with his white hair tied behind with a great black bow, and the +fine jabot of beautiful point d'Angleterre falling in a soft cascade +below his chin. + +Then holding himself as upright as he could, he sat in his invalid +chair, and four flunkeys in full livery carried him to the deathbed of +his son. + +All the house was astir by now. Torches burned in great sockets in the +vast hall and along the massive oak stairway, and hundreds of candles +flickered ghostlike in the vast apartments of the princely mansion. + +The numerous servants were arrayed on the landing, all dressed in the +rich livery of the ducal house. + +The death of an heir of the Marnys is an event that history makes a note +of. + +The old Duc's chair was placed close to the bed, where lay the dead body +of the young Vicomte. He made no movement, nor did he utter a word or +sigh. Some of those who were present at the time declared that his mind +had completely given way, and that he neither felt nor understood the +death of his son. + +The Marquis de Villefranche, who had followed his friend to the last, +took a final leave of the sorrowing house. + +Juliette scarcely noticed him. Her eyes were fixed on her father. She +would not look at her brother. A childlike fear had seized her, there, +suddenly, between these two silent figures: the living and the dead. + +But just as the Marquis was leaving the room, the old man spoke for the +first time. + +"Marquis," he said very quietly, "you forget--you have not yet told me +who killed my son." + +"It was in a fair fight, M. de Duc," replied the young Marquis, awed in +spite of all his frivolity, his light-heartedness, by this strange, +almost mysterious tragedy. + +"Who killed my son, M. le Marquis?" repeated the old man mechanically. +"I have the right to know," he added with sudden, weird energy. + +"It was M. Paul Deroulede, M. le Duc," replied the Marquis. "I repeat, +it was in fair fight." + +The old Duc sighed as if in satisfaction. Then with a courteous gesture +of farewell reminiscent of the _grand siecle_ he added: + +"All thanks from me and mine to you, Marquis, would seem but a mockery. +Your devotion to my son is beyond human thanks. I'll not detain you now. +Farewell." + +Escorted by two lacqueys, the Marquis passed out of the room. + +"Dismiss all the servants, Juliette; I have something to say," said the +old Duc, and the young girl, silent, obedient, did as her father bade +her. + +Father and sister were alone with their dead. As soon as the last hushed +footsteps of the retreating servants died away in the distance, the Duc +de Marny seemed to throw away the lethargy which had enveloped him until +now. With a quick, feverish gesture he seized his daughter's wrist, and +murmured excitedly: + +"His name. You heard his name, Juliette?" + +"Yes, father," replied the child. + +"Paul Deroulede! Paul Deroulede! You'll not forget it?" + +"Never, father!" + +"He killed your brother! You understand that? Killed my only son, the +hope of my house, the last descendant of the most glorious race that has +ever added lustre to the history of France." + +"In fair fight, father!" protested the child. + +"'Tis not fair for a man to kill a boy," retorted the old man, with +furious energy. + +"Deroulede is thirty: my boy was scarce out of his teens: may the +vengeance of God fall upon the murderer!" + +Juliette, awed, terrified, was gazing at her father with great, +wondering eyes. He seemed unlike himself. His face wore a curious +expression of ecstasy and of hatred, also of hope and exultation, +whenever he looked steadily at her. + +That the final glimmer of a tottering reason was fast leaving the poor, +aching head she was too young to realise. Madness was a word that had +only a vague meaning for her. Though she did not understand her father +at the present moment, though she was half afraid of him, she would have +rejected with scorn and horror any suggestion that he was mad. + +Therefore when he took her hand and, drawing her nearer to the bed and +to himself, placed it upon her dead brother's breast, she recoiled at +the touch of the inanimate body, so unlike anything she had ever touched +before, but she obeyed her father without any question, and listened to +his words as to those of a sage. + +"Juliette, you are now fourteen, and able to understand what I am going +to ask of you. If I were not chained to this miserable chair, if I were +not a hopeless, abject cripple, I would not depute anyone, not even you, +my only child, to do that, which God demands that one of us should do." + +He paused a moment, then continued earnestly: + +"Remember, Juliette, that you are of the house of Marny, that you are a +Catholic, and that God hears you now. For you shall swear an oath before +Him and me, an oath from which only death can relieve you. Will you +swear, my child?" + +"If you wish it, father." + +"You have been to confession lately, Juliette?" + +"Yes, father; also to holy communion, yesterday," replied the child. "It +was the Fete-Dieu, you know." + +"Then you are in a state of grace, my child?" + +"I was yesterday morning, father," replied the young girl naively, "but +I have committed some little sins since then." + +"Then make your confession to God in your heart now. You must be in a +state of grace when you speak the oath." + +The child closed her eyes, and as the old man watched her, he could see +the lips framing the words of her spiritual confession. + +Juliette made the sign of the cross, then opened her eyes and looked at +her father. + +"I am ready, father," she said; "I hope God has forgiven me the little +sins of yesterday." + +"Will you swear, my child?" + +"What, father?" + +"That you will avenge your brother's death on his murderer?" + +"But, father ..." + +"Swear it, my child!" + +"How can I fulfil that oath, father?--I don't understand ..." + +"God will guide you, my child. When you are older you will understand." + +For a moment Juliette still hesitated. She was just on that borderland +between childhood and womanhood when all the sensibilities, the nervous +system, the emotions, are strung to their highest pitch. + +Throughout her short life she had worshipped her father with a +whole-hearted, passionate devotion, which had completely blinded her to +his weakening faculties and the feebleness of his mind. + +She was also in that initial stage of enthusiastic piety which +overwhelms every girl of temperament, if she be brought up in the Roman +Catholic religion, when she is first initiated into the mysteries of the +Sacraments. + +Juliette had been to confession and communion. She had been confirmed by +Monseigneur, the Archbishop. Her ardent nature had responded to the full +to the sensuous and ecstatic expressions of the ancient faith. + +And somehow her father's wish, her brother's death, all seemed mingled +in her brain with that religion, for which in her juvenile enthusiasm +she would willingly have laid down her life. + +She thought of all the saints, whose lives she had been reading. Her +young heart quivered at the thought of _their_ sacrifices, their +martyrdoms, their sense of duty. + +An exaltation, morbid perhaps, superstitious and overwhelming, took +possession of her mind; also, perhaps, far back in the innermost +recesses of her heart, a pride in her own importance, her mission in +life, her individuality: for she was a girl after all, a mere child, +about to become a woman. + +But the old Duc was waxing impatient. + +"Surely you do not hesitate, Juliette, with your dead brother's body +clamouring mutely for revenge? You, the only Marny left now!--for from +this day I too shall be as dead." + +"No, father," said the young girl in an awed whisper, "I do not +hesitate. I will swear, just as you bid me." + +"Repeat the words after me, my child." + +"Yes, father." + +"Before the face of Almighty God, who sees and hears me ..." + +"Before the face of Almighty God, who sees and hears me," repeated +Juliette firmly. + +"I swear that I will seek out Paul Deroulede." + +"I swear that I will seek out Paul Deroulede." + +"And in any manner which God may dictate to me encompass his death, his +ruin or dishonour, in revenge for my brother's death." + +"And in any manner which God may dictate to me encompass his death, his +ruin or dishonour, in revenge for my brother's death," said Juliette +solemnly. + +"May my brother's soul remain in torment until the final Judgment Day if +I should break my oath, but may it rest in eternal peace the day on +which his death is fitly avenged." + +"May my brother's soul remain in torment until the final Judgment Day if +I should break my oath, but may it rest in eternal peace the day on +which his death is fitly avenged." + +The child fell upon her knees. The oath was spoken, the old man was +satisfied. + +He called for his valet, and allowed himself quietly to be put to bed. + +One brief hour had transformed a child into a woman. A dangerous +transformation when the brain is overburdened with emotions, when the +nerves are overstrung and the heart full to breaking. + +For the moment, however, the childlike nature reasserted itself for the +last time, for Juliette, sobbing, had fled out of the room, to the +privacy of her own apartment, and thrown herself passionately into the +arms of kind old Petronelle. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +Paris: 1793 + +The outrage. + + +It would have been very difficult to say why Citizen Deroulede was quite +so popular as he was. Still more difficult would it have been to state +the reason why he remained immune from the prosecutions, which were +being conducted at the rate of several scores a day, now against the +moderate Gironde, anon against the fanatic Mountain, until the whole of +France was transformed into one gigantic prison, that daily fed the +guillotine. + +But Deroulede remained unscathed. Even Merlin's law of the suspect had +so far failed to touch him. And when, last July, the murder of Marat +brought an entire holocaust of victims to the guillotine--from Adam Lux, +who would have put up a statue in honour of Charlotte Corday, with the +inscription: "Greater than Brutus", to Charlier, who would have had her +publicly tortured and burned at the stake for her crime--Deroulede alone +said nothing, and was allowed to remain silent. + +The most seething time of that seething revolution. No one knew in the +morning if his head would still be on his own shoulders in the evening, +or if it would be held up by Citizen Samson the headsman, for the +sansculottes of Paris to see. + +Yet Deroulede was allowed to go his own way. Marat once said of him: "Il +n'est pas dangereux." The phrase had been taken up. Within the precincts +of the National Convention, Marat was still looked upon as the great +protagonist of Liberty, a martyr to his own convictions carried to the +extreme, to squalor and dirt, to the downward levelling of man to what +is the lowest type in humanity. And his sayings were still treasured up: +even the Girondins did not dare to attack his memory. Dead Marat was +more powerful than his living presentment had been. + +And he had said that Deroulede was not dangerous. Not dangerous to +Republicanism, to liberty, to that downward, levelling process, the +tearing down of old traditions, and the annihilation of past +pretensions. + +Deroulede had once been very rich. He had had sufficient prudence to +give away in good time that which, undoubtedly, would have been taken +away from him later on. + +But when he gave willingly, at a time when France needed it most, and +before she had learned how to help herself to what she wanted. + +And somehow, in this instance, France had not forgotten: an invisible +fortress seemed to surround Citizen Deroulede and keep his enemies at +bay. They were few, but they existed. The National Convention trusted +him. "He was not dangerous" to them. The people looked upon him as one +of themselves, who gave whilst he had something to give. Who can gauge +that most elusive of all things: _Popularity?_ + +He lived a quiet life, and had never yielded to the omni-prevalent +temptation of writing pamphlets, but lived alone with his mother and +Anne Mie, the little orphaned cousin whom old Madame Deroulede had taken +care of, ever since the child could toddle. + +Everyone knew his house in the Rue Ecole de Medecine, not far from the +one wherein Marat lived and died, the only solid, stone house in the +midst of a row of hovels, evil-smelling and squalid. + +The street was narrow then, as it is now, and whilst Paris was cutting +off the heads of her children for the sake of Liberty and Fraternity, +she had no time to bother about cleanliness and sanitation. + +Rue Ecole de Medecine did little credit to the school after which it was +named, and it was a most unattractive crowd that usually thronged its +uneven, muddy pavements. + +A neat gown, a clean kerchief, were quite an unusual sight down this +way, for Anne Mie seldom went out, and old Madame Deroulede hardly ever +left her room. A good deal of brandy was being drunk at the two drinking +bars, one at each end of the long, narrow street, and by five o'clock in +the afternoon it was undoubtedly best for women to remain indoors. + +The crowd of dishevelled elderly Amazons who stood gossiping at the +street corner could hardly be called women now. A ragged petticoat, a +greasy red kerchief round the head, a tattered, stained shift--to this +pass of squalor and shame had Liberty brought the daughters of France. + +And they jeered at any passer-by less filthy, less degraded than +themselves. + +"Ah! voyons l'aristo!" they shouted every time a man in decent clothes, +a woman with tidy cap and apron, passed swiftly down the street. + +And the afternoons were very lively. There was always plenty to see: +first and foremost, the long procession of tumbrils, winding its way +from the prisons to the Place de la Revolution. The forty-four thousand +sections of the Committee of Public Safety sent their quota, each in +their turn, to the guillotine. + +At one time these tumbrils contained royal ladies and gentlemen, +_ci-devant_ dukes and princesses, aristocrats from every county in +France, but now this stock was becoming exhausted. The wretched Queen +Marie Antoinette still lingered in the Temple with her son and daughter. +Madame Elisabeth was still allowed to say her prayers in peace, but +_ci-devant_ dukes and counts were getting scarce: those who had not +perished at the hand of Citizen Samson were plying some trade in Germany +or England. + +There were aristocratic joiners, innkeepers, and hairdressers. The +proudest names in France were hidden beneath trade signs in London and +Hamburg. A good number owed their lives to that mysterious Scarlet +Pimpernel, that unknown Englishman who had snatched scores of victims +from the clutches of Tinville the Prosecutor, and sent M. Chauvelin, +baffled, back to France. + +Aristocrats were getting scarce, so it was now the turn of deputies of +the National Convention, of men of letters, men of science or of art, +men who had sent others to the guillotine a twelvemonth ago, and men who +had been loudest in defence of anarchy and its Reign of Terror. + +They had revolutionised the Calendar: the Citizen-Deputies, and every +good citizen of France, called this 19th day of August 1793 the 2nd +Fructidor of the year I. of the New Era. + +At six o'clock on that afternoon a young girl suddenly turned the angle +of the Rue Ecole de Medecine, and after looking quickly to the right and +left she began deliberately walking along the narrow street. + +It was crowded just then. Groups of excited women stood jabbering before +every doorway. It was the home-coming hour after the usual spectacle on +the Place de la Revolution. The men had paused at the various drinking +booths, crowding the women out. It would be the turn of these Amazons +next, at the brandy bars; for the moment they were left to gossip, and +to jeer at the passer-by. + +At first the young girl did not seem to heed them. She walked quickly +along, looking defiantly before her, carrying her head erect, and +stepping carefully from cobblestone to cobblestone, avoiding the mud, +which could have dirtied her dainty shoes. + +The harridans passed the time of day to her, and the time of day meant +some obscene remark unfit for women's ears. The young girl wore a simple +grey dress, with fine lawn kerchief neatly folded across her bosom, a +large hat with flowing ribbons sat above the fairest face that ever +gladdened men's eyes to see. + +Fairer still it would have been, but for the look of determination which +made it seem hard and old for the girl's years. + +She wore the tricolour scarf round her waist, else she had been more +seriously molested ere now. But the Republican colours were her +safeguard: whilst she walked quietly along, no one could harm her. + +Then suddenly a curious impulse seemed to seize her. It was just outside +the large stone house belonging to Citizen-Deputy Deroulede. She had so +far taken no notice of the groups of women which she had come across. +When they obstructed the footway, she had calmly stepped out into the +middle of the road. + +It was wise and prudent, for she could close her ears to obscene +language and need pay no heed to insult. + +Suddenly she threw up her head defiantly. + +"Will you please let me pass?" she said loudly, as a dishevelled Amazon +stood before her with arms akimbo, glancing sarcastically at the lace +petticoat, which just peeped beneath the young girl's simple grey frock. + +"Let her pass? Let her pass? Ho! ho! ho!" laughed the old woman, turning +to the nearest group of idlers, and apostrophising them with a loud +oath. "Did _you_ know, citizeness, that this street had been specially +made for aristos to pass along?" + +"I am in a hurry, will you let me pass at once?" commanded the young +girl, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground. + +There was the whole width of the street on her right, plenty of room for +her to walk along. It seemed positive madness to provoke a quarrel +singlehanded against this noisy group of excited females, just home from +the ghastly spectacle around the guillotine. + +And yet she seemed to do it wilfully, as if coming to the end of her +patience, all her proud, aristocratic blood in revolt against this +evil-smelling crowd which surrounded her. + +Half-tipsy men and noisome, naked urchins seemed to have sprung from +everywhere. + +"Oho, quelle aristo!" they shouted with ironical astonishment, gazing at +the young girl's face, fingering her gown, thrusting begrimed, +hate-distorted faces close to her own. + +Instinctively she recoiled and backed towards the house immediately on +her left. It was adorned with a porch made of stout oak beams, with a +tiled roof; an iron lantern descended from this, and there was a stone +parapet below, and a few steps, at right angles from the pavement, led +up to the massive door. + +On these steps the young girl had taken refuge. Proud, defiant, she +confronted the howling mob, which she had so wilfully provoked. + +"Of a truth, Citizeness Margot, that grey dress would become you well!" +suggested a young man, whose red cap hung in tatters over an evil and +dissolute-looking face. + +"And all that fine lace would make a splendid jabot round the aristo's +neck when Citizen Samson holds up her head for us to see," added +another, as with mock elegance he stooped and with two very grimy +fingers slightly raised the young girl's grey frock, displaying the +lace-edged petticoat beneath. + +A volley of oaths and loud, ironical laughter greeted this sally. + +"'Tis mighty fine lace to be thus hidden away," commented an elderly +harridan. "Now, would you believe it, my fine madam, but my legs are +bare underneath my kirtle?" + +"And dirty, too, I'll lay a wager," laughed another. "Soap is dear in +Paris just now." + +"The lace on the aristo's kerchief would pay the baker's bill of a whole +family for a month!" shouted an excited voice. + +Heat and brandy further addled the brains of this group of French +citizens; hatred gleamed out of every eye. Outrage was imminent. The +young girl seemed to know it, but she remained defiant and +self-possessed, gradually stepping back and back up the steps, closely +followed by her assailants. + +"To the Jew with the gewgaw, then!" shouted a thin, haggard female +viciously, as she suddenly clutched at the young girl's kerchief, and +with a mocking, triumphant laugh tore it from her bosom. + +This outrage seemed to be the signal for the breaking down of the final +barriers which ordinary decency should have raised. The language and +vituperation became such as no chronicler could record. + +The girl's dainty white neck, her clear skin, the refined contour of +shoulders and bust, seemed to have aroused the deadliest lust of hate in +these wretched creatures, rendered bestial by famine and squalor. + +It seemed almost as if one would vie with the other in seeking for words +which would most offend these small aristocratic ears. + +The young girl was now crouching against the doorway, her hands held up +to her ears to shut out the awful sounds. She did not seem frightened, +only appalled at the terrible volcano which she had provoked. + +Suddenly a miserable harridan struck her straight in the face, with +hard, grimy fist, and a long shout of exultation greeted this monstrous +deed. + +Then only did the girl seem to lose her self-control. + +"A moi," she shouted loudly, whilst hammering with both hands against +the massive doorway. "A moi! Murder! Murder! Citoyen Deroulede, a moi!" + +But her terror was greeted with renewed glee by her assailants. They +were now roused to the highest point of frenzy: the crowd of brutes +would in the next moment have torn the helpless girl from her place of +refuge and dragged her into the mire, an outraged prey, for the +satisfaction of an ungovernable hate. + +But just as half-a-dozen pairs of talon-like hands clutched frantically +at her skirts, the door behind her was quickly opened. She felt her arm +seized firmly, and herself dragged swiftly within the shelter of the +threshold. + +Her senses, overwrought by the terrible adventure which she had just +gone through, were threatening to reel; she heard the massive door +close, shutting out the yells of baffled rage, the ironical laughter, +the obscene words, which sounded in her ears like the shrieks of Dante's +damned. + +She could not see her rescuer, for the hall into which he had hastily +dragged her was only dimly lighted. But a peremptory voice said quickly: + +"Up the stairs, the room straight in front of you, my mother is there. +Go quickly." + +She had fallen on her knees, cowering against the heavy oak beam which +supported the ceiling, and was straining her eyes to catch sight of the +man, to whom at this moment she perhaps owed more than her life: but he +was standing against the doorway, with his hand on the latch. + +"What are you going to do?" she murmured. + +"Prevent their breaking into my house in order to drag you out of it," +he replied quietly; "so, I pray you, do as I bid you." + +Mechanically she obeyed him, drew herself to her feet, and, turning +towards the stairs, began slowly to mount the shallow steps. Her knees +were shaking under her, her whole body was trembling with horror at the +awesome crisis she had just traversed. + +She dared not look back at her rescuer. Her head was bent, and her lips +were murmuring half-audible words as she went. + +Outside the hooting and yelling was becoming louder and louder. Enraged +fists were hammering violently against the stout oak door. + +At the top of the stairs, moved by an irresistible impulse, she turned +and looked into the hall. + +She saw his figure dimly outlined in the gloom, one hand on the latch, +his head thrown back to watch her movements. + +A door stood ajar immediately in front of her. She pushed it open and +went within. + +At that moment he too opened the door below. The shrieks of the howling +mob once more resounded close to her ears. It seemed as if they had +surrounded him. She wondered what was happening, and marvelled how he +dared to face that awful crowd alone. + +The room into which she had entered was gay and cheerful-looking with +its dainty chintz hangings and graceful, elegant pieces of furniture. +The young girl looked up, as a kindly voice said to her, from out the +depths of a capacious armchair: + +"Come in, come in, my dear, and close the door behind you! Did those +wretches attack you? Never mind. Paul will speak to them. Come here, my +dear, and sit down; there's no cause now for fear." + +Without a word the young girl came forward. She seemed now to be walking +in a dream, the chintz hangings to be swaying ghostlike around her, the +yells and shrieks below to come from the very bowels of the earth. + +The old lady continued to prattle on. She had taken the girl's hand in +hers, and was gently forcing her down on to a low stool beside her +armchair. She was talking about Paul, and said something about Anne Mie, +and then about the National Convention, and those beasts and savages, +but mostly about Paul. + +The noise outside had subsided. The girl felt strangely sick and tired. +Her head seemed to be whirling round, the furniture to be dancing round +her; the old lady's face looked at her through a swaying veil, and +then--and then ... + +Tired Nature was having her way at last; she folded the quivering young +body in her motherly arms, and wrapped the aching senses beneath her +merciful mantle of unconsciousness. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Citizen-Deputy. + + +When, presently, the young girl awoke, with a delicious feeling of rest +and well-being, she had plenty of leisure to think. + +So, then, this was his house! She was actually a guest, a rescued +protege, beneath the roof of Citoyen Deroulede. + +He had dragged her from the clutches of the howling mob which she had +provoked; his mother had made her welcome, a sweet-faced, young girl +scarce out of her teens, sad-eyed and slightly deformed, had waited upon +her and made her happy and comfortable. + +Juliette de Marny was in the house of the man, whom she had sworn before +her God and before her father to pursue with hatred and revenge. + +Ten years had gone by since then. + +Lying upon the sweet-scented bed which the hospitality of the Derouledes +had provided for her, she seemed to see passing before her the spectres +of these past ten years--the first four, after her brother's death, +until the old Duc de Marny's body slowly followed his soul to its grave. + +After that last glimmer of life beside the deathbed of his son, the old +Duc had practically ceased to be. A mute, shrunken figure, he merely +existed; his mind vanished, his memory gone, a wreck whom Nature +fortunately remembered at last, and finally took away from the invalid +chair which had been his world. + +Then came those few years at the Convent of the Ursulines. Juliette had +hoped that she had a vocation; her whole soul yearned for a secluded, a +religious, life, for great barriers of solemn vows and days spent in +prayer and contemplation, to interpose between herself and the memory of +that awful night when, obedient to her father's will, she had made the +solemn oath to avenge her brother's death. + +She was only eighteen when she first entered the convent, directly after +her father's death, when she felt very lonely--both morally and mentally +lonely--and followed by the obsession of that oath. + +She never spoke of it to anyone except to her confessor, and he, a +simple-minded man of great learning and a total lack of knowledge of the +world, was completely at a loss how to advise. + +The Archbishop was consulted. He could grant a dispensation, and release +her of that most solemn vow. + +When first this idea was suggested to her, Juliette was exultant. Her +entire nature, which in itself was wholesome, light-hearted, the very +reverse of morbid, rebelled against this unnatural task placed upon her +young shoulders. It was only religion--the strange, warped religion of +that extraordinary age--which kept her to it, which forbade her breaking +lightly that most unnatural oath. + +The Archbishop was a man of many duties, many engagements. He agreed to +give this strange "cas de conscience" his most earnest attention. He +would make no promises. But Mademoiselle de Marny was rich: a munificent +donation to the poor of Paris, or to some cause dear to the Holy Father +himself, might perhaps be more acceptable to God than the fulfilment of +a compulsory vow. + +Juliette, within the convent walls, was waiting patiently for the +Archbishop's decision at the very moment, when the greatest upheaval the +world has ever known was beginning to shake the very foundations of +France. + +The Archbishop had other things now to think about than isolated cases +of conscience. He forgot all about Juliette, probably. He was busy +consoling a monarch for the loss of his throne, and preparing himself +and his royal patron for the scaffold. + +The Convent of the Ursulines was scattered during the Terror. Everyone +remembers the Thermidor massacres, and the thirty-four nuns, all +daughters of ancient families of France, who went so cheerfully to the +scaffold. + +Juliette was one of those who escaped condemnation. How or why, she +herself could not have told. She was very young, and still a postulant; +she was allowed to live in retirement with Petronelle, her old nurse, +who had remained faithful through all these years. + +Then the Archbishop was prosecuted and imprisoned. Juliette made frantic +efforts to see him, but all in vain. When he died, she looked upon her +spiritual guide's death as a direct warning from God, that nothing could +relieve her of her oath. + +She had watched the turmoils of the Revolution through the attic window +of her tiny apartment in Paris. Waited upon by faithful Petronelle, she +had been forced to live on the savings of that worthy old soul, as all +her property, all the Marny estates, the _dot_ she took with her to the +convent--everything, in fact--had been seized by the Revolutionary +Government, self appointed to level fortunes, as well as individuals. + +From that attic window she had seen beautiful Paris writhing under the +pitiless lash of the demon of terror which it had provoked; she had +heard the rumble of the tumbrils, dragging day after day their load of +victims to the insatiable maker of this Revolution of Fraternity--the +Guillotine. + +She had seen the gay, light-hearted people of this Star-City turned to +howling beasts of prey, its women changed to sexless vultures, with +murderous talons implanted in everything that is noble, high or +beautiful. + +She was not twenty when the feeble, vacillating monarch and his +imperious consort were dragged back--a pair of humiliated prisoners--to +the capital from which they had tried to flee. + +Two years later, she had heard the cries of an entire people exulting +over a regicide. Then the murder of Marat, by a young girl like herself, +the pale-faced, large-eyed Charlotte, who had committed a crime for the +sake of a conviction. "Greater than Brutus!" some had called her. +Greater than Joan of Arc, for it was to a mission of evil and of sin +that she was called from the depths of her Breton village, and not to +one of glory and triumph. + +"Greater than Brutus!" + +Juliette followed the trial of Charlotte Corday with all the passionate +ardour of her exalted temperament. + +Just think what an effect it must have had upon the mind of this young +girl, who for nine years--the best of her life--had also lived with the +idea of a sublime mission pervading her very soul. + +She watched Charlotte Corday at her trial. Conquering her natural +repulsion for such scenes, and the crowds which usually watched them, +she had forced her way into the foremost rank of the narrow gallery +which overlooked the Hall of the Revolutionary Tribunal. + +She heard the indictment, heard Tinville's speech and the calling of the +witnesses. + +"All this is unnecessary. I killed Marat!" + +Juliette heard the fresh young voice ringing out clearly above the +murmur of voices, the howls of execration; she saw the beautiful young +face, clear, calm, impassive. + +"I killed Marat!" + +And there in the special space allotted to the Citizen-Deputies, sitting +among those who represented the party of the Moderate Gironde, was Paul +Deroulede, the man whom she had sworn to pursue with a vengeance as +great, as complete, as that which guided Charlotte Corday's hand. + +She watched him during the trial, and wondered if he had any +presentiment of the hatred which dogged him, like unto the one which had +dogged Marat. + +He was very dark, almost swarthy a son of the South, with brown hair, +free from powder, thrown back and revealing the brow of a student rather +than that of a legislator. He watched Charlotte Corday earnestly, and +Juliette who watched him saw the look of measureless pity, which +softened the otherwise hard look of his close-set eyes. + +He made an impassioned speech for the defence: a speech which has become +historic. It would have cost any other man his head. + +Juliette marvelled at his courage; to defend Charlotte Corday was +equivalent to acquiescing in the death of Marat: Marat, the friend of +the people; Marat, whom his funeral orators had compared to the Great, +the Sacred Leveller of Mankind! + +But Deroulede's speech was not a defence, it was an appeal. The most +eloquent man of that eloquent age, his words seemed to find that hidden +bit of sentiment which still lurked in the hearts of these strange +protagonists of Hate. + +Everyone round Juliette listened as he spoke: "It is Citoyen Deroulede!" +whispered the bloodthirsty Amazons, who sat knitting in the gallery. + +But there was no further comment. A huge, magnificently-equipped +hospital for sick children had been thrown open in Paris that very +morning, a gift to the nation from Citoyen Deroulede. Surely he was +privileged to talk a little, if it pleased him. His hospital would cover +quite a good many defalcations. + +Even the rabid Mountain, Danton, Merlin, Santerre, shrugged their +shoulders. "It is Deroulede, let him talk an he list. Murdered Marat +said of him that he was not dangerous." + +Juliette heard it all. The knitters round her were talking loudly. Even +Charlotte was almost forgotten whilst Deroulede talked. He had a fine +voice, of strong calibre, which echoed powerfully through the hall. + +He was rather short, but broad-shouldered and well knit, with an +expressive hand, which looked slender and delicate below the fine lace +ruffle. + +Charlotte Corday was condemned. All Deroulede's eloquence could not save +her. + +Juliette left the court in a state of mad exultation. She was very +young: the scenes she had witnessed in the past two years could not help +but excite the imagination of a young girl, left entirely to her own +intellectual and moral resources. + +What scenes! Great God! + +And now to wait for an opportunity! Charlotte Corday, the half-educated +little provincial should not put to shame Mademoiselle de Marny, the +daughter of a hundred dukes, of those who had made France before she +took to unmaking herself. + +But she could not formulate any definite plans. Petronelle, poor old +soul, her only confidante, was not of the stuff that heroines are made +of. Juliette felt impelled by duty, and duty at best is not so prompt a +counsellor as love or hate. + +Her adventure outside Deroulede's house had not been premeditated. +Impulse and coincidence had worked their will with her. + +She had been in the habit, daily, for the past month, of wandering down +the Rue Ecole de Medecine, ostensibly to gaze at Marat's dwelling, as +crowds of idlers were wont to do, but really in order to look at +Deroulede's house. Once or twice she saw him coming or going from home. +Once she caught sight of the inner hall, and of a young girl in a dark +kirtle and snow-white kerchief bidding him good-bye at his door. Another +time she caught sight of him at the corner of the street, helping that +same young girl over the muddy pavement. He had just met her, and she +was carrying a basket of provisions: he took it from her and carried it +to the house. + +Chivalrous--eh?--and innately so, evidently, for the girl was slightly +deformed: hardly a hunchback, but weak and unattractive-looking, with +melancholy eyes, and a pale, pinched face. + +It was the thought of that little act of simple chivalry, witnessed the +day before, which caused Juliette to provoke the scene which, but for +Deroulede's timely interference, might have ended so fatally. But she +reckoned on that interference: the whole thing had occurred to her +suddenly, and she had carried it through. + +Had not her father said to her that when the time came, God would show +her a means to the end? + +And now she was inside the house of the man who had murdered her brother +and sent her sorrowing father, a poor, senseless maniac, tottering to +the grave. + +Would God's finger point again, and show her what to do next, how best +to accomplish what she had sworn to do? + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Hospitality. + + +"Is there anything more I can do for you now, mademoiselle?" + +The gentle, timid voice roused Juliette from the contemplation of the +past. + +She smiled at Anne Mie, and held her hand out towards her. + +"You have all been so kind," she said, "I want to get up now and thank +you all." + +"Don't move unless you feel quite well." + +"I am quite well now. Those horrid people frightened me so, that is why +I fainted." + +"They would have half-killed you, if ..." + +"Will you tell me where I am?" asked Juliette. + +"In the house of M. Paul Deroulede--I should have said of Citizen-Deputy +Deroulede. He rescued you from the mob, and pacified them. He has such a +beautiful voice that he can make anyone listen to him, and ..." + +"And you are fond of him, mademoiselle?" added Juliette, suddenly +feeling a mist of tears rising to her eyes. + +"Of course I am fond of him," rejoined the other girl simply, whilst a +look of the most tender-hearted devotion seemed to beautify her pale +face. "He and Madame Deroulede have brought me up; I never knew my +parents. They have cared for me, and he has taught me all I know." + +"What do they call you, mademoiselle?" + +"My name is Anne Mie." + +"And mine, Juliette--Juliette Marny," she added after a slight +hesitation. "I have no parents either. My old nurse, Petronelle, has +brought me up, and--But tell me more about M. Deroulede--I owe him so +much, I'd like to know him better." + +"Will you not let me arrange your hair?" said Anne Mie as if purposely +evading a direct reply. "M. Deroulede is in the salon with madame. You +can see him then." + +Juliette asked no more questions, but allowed Anne Mie to tidy her hair +for her, to lend her a fresh kerchief and generally to efface all traces +of her terrible adventure. She felt puzzled and tearful. Anne Mie's +gentleness seemed somehow to jar on her spirits. She could not +understand the girl's position in the Deroulede household. Was she a +relative, or a superior servant? In these troublous times she might +easily have been both. + +In any case she was a childhood's companion of the +Citizen-Deputy--whether on an equal or a humbler footing, Juliette would +have given much to ascertain. + +With the marvellous instinct peculiar to women of temperament, she had +already divined Anne Mie's love for Deroulede. The poor young cripple's +very soul seemed to quiver magnetically at the bare mention of his name, +her whole face became transfigured: Juliette even thought her beautiful +then. + +She looked at herself critically in the glass, and adjusted a curl, +which looked its best when it was rebellious. She scrutinised her own +face carefully; why? she could not tell: another of those subtle +feminine instincts perhaps. + +The becoming simplicity of the prevailing mode suited her to perfection. +The waist line, rather high but clearly defined--a precursor of the +later more accentuated fashion--gave grace to her long slender limbs, +and emphasised the lissomeness of her figure. The kerchief, edged with +fine lace, and neatly folded across her bosom, softened the contour of +her girlish bust and shoulders. + +And her hair was a veritable glory round her dainty, piquant face. Soft, +fair, and curly, it emerged in a golden halo from beneath the prettiest +little lace cap imaginable. + +She turned and faced Anne Mie, ready to follow her out of the room, and +the young crippled girl sighed as she smoothed down the folds of her own +apron, and gave a final touch to the completion of Juliette's attire. + +The time before the evening meal slipped by like a dream-hour for +Juliette. + +She had lived so much alone, had led such an introspective life, that +she had hardly realised and understood all that was going on around her. +At the time when the inner vitality of France first asserted itself and +then swept away all that hindered its mad progress, she was tied to the +invalid chair of her half-demented father; then, after that, the +sheltering walls of the Ursuline Convent had hidden from her mental +vision the true meaning of the great conflict, between the Old Era and +the New. + +Deroulede was neither a pedant nor yet a revolutionary: his theories +were Utopian and he had an extraordinary overpowering sympathy for his +fellow-men. + +After the first casual greetings with Juliette, he had continued a +discussion with his mother, which the young girl's entrance had +interrupted. + +He seemed to take but little notice of her, although at times his dark, +keen eyes would seek hers, as if challenging her for a reply. + +He was talking of the mob of Paris, whom he evidently understood so +well. Incidents such as the one which Juliette had provoked, had led to +rape and theft, often to murder, before now: but outside Citizen-Deputy +Deroulede's house everything was quiet, half-an-hour after Juliette's +escape from that howling, brutish crowd. + +He had merely spoken to them, for about twenty minutes, and they had +gone away quite quietly, without even touching one hair of his head. He +seemed to love them: to know how to separate the little good that was in +them, from that hard crust of evil, which misery had put around their +hearts. + +Once he addressed Juliette somewhat abruptly: "Pardon me, mademoiselle, +but for your own sake we must guard you a prisoner here awhile. No one +would harm you under this roof, but it would not be safe for you to +cross the neighbouring streets to-night." + +"But I must go, monsieur. Indeed, indeed I must!" she said earnestly. "I +am deeply grateful to you, but I could not leave Petronelle." + +"Who is Petronelle?" + +"My dear old nurse, monsieur. She has never left me. Think how anxious +and miserable she must be, at my prolonged absence." + +"Where does she live?" + +"At No. 15 Rue Taitbout, but ..." + +"Will you allow me to take her a message?--telling her that you are safe +and under my roof, where it is obviously more prudent that you should +remain at present." + +"If you think it best, monsieur," she replied. + +Inwardly she was trembling with excitement. God had not only brought her +to this house, but willed that she should stay in it. + +"In whose name shall I take the message, mademoiselle?" he asked. + +"My name is Juliette Marny." + +She watched him keenly as she said it, but there was not the slightest +sign in his expressive face, to show that he had recognised the name. + +Ten years is a long time, and every one had lived through so much during +those years! A wave of intense wrath swept through Juliette's soul, as +she realised that he had forgotten. The name meant nothing to him! It +did not recall to him the fact that his hand was stained with blood. +During ten years she had suffered, she had fought with herself, fought +for him as it were, against the Fate which she was destined to mete out +to him, whilst he had forgotten, or at least had ceased to think. + +He bowed to her and went out of the room. + +The wave of wrath subsided, and she was left alone with Madame +Deroulede: presently Anne Mie came in. + +The three women chatted together, waiting for the return of the master +of the house. Juliette felt well and, in spite of herself, almost happy. +She had lived so long in the miserable, little attic alone with +Petronelle that she enjoyed the well-being of this refined home. It was +not so grand or gorgeous of course as her father's princely palace +opposite the Louvre, a wreck now, since it was annexed by the Committee +of National Defence, for the housing of soldiery. But the Derouledes' +home was essentially a refined one. The delicate china on the tall +chimney-piece, the few bits of Buhl and Vernis Martin about the room, +the vision through the open doorway of the supper-table spread with a +fine white cloth, and sparkling with silver, all spoke of fastidious +tastes, of habits of luxury and elegance, which the spirit of Equality +and Anarchy had not succeeded in eradicating. + +When Deroulede came back, he brought an atmosphere of breezy +cheerfulness with him. + +The street was quiet now, and when walking past the hospital--his own +gift to the Nation--he had been loudly cheered. One or two ironical +voices had asked him what he had done with the aristo and her lace +furbelows, but it remained at that and Mademoiselle Marny need have no +fear. + +He had brought Petronelle along with him: his careless, lavish +hospitality would have suggested the housing of Juliette's entire +domestic establishment, had she possessed one. + +As it was, the worthy old soul's deluge of happy tears had melted his +kindly heart. He offered her and her young mistress shelter, until the +small cloud should have rolled by. + +After that he suggested a journey to England. Emigration now was the +only real safety, and Mademoiselle Marny had unpleasantly drawn on +herself the attention of the Paris rabble. No doubt, within the next few +days her name would figure among the "suspect." She would be safest out +of the country, and could not do better than place herself under the +guidance of that English enthusiast, who had helped so many persecuted +Frenchmen to escape from the terrors of the Revolution: the man who was +such a thorn in the flesh of the Committee of Public Safety, and who +went by the nickname of The Scarlet Pimpernel. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +The faithful house-dog. + + +After supper they talked of Charlotte Corday. + +Juliette clung to the vision of that heroine, and liked to talk of her. +She appeared as a justification of her own actions, which somehow seemed +to require justification. + +She loved to hear Paul Deroulede talk; liked to provoke his enthusiasm +and to see his stern, dark face light up with the inward fire of the +enthusiast. + +She had openly avowed herself as the daughter of the Duc de Marny. When +she actually named her father, and her brother killed in duel, she saw +Deroulede looking long and searchingly at her. Evidently he wondered if +she knew everything: but she returned his gaze fearlessly and frankly, +and he apparently was satisfied. + +Madame Deroulede seemed to know nothing of the circumstances of that +duel. Deroulede tried to draw Juliette out, to make her speak of her +brother. She replied to his questions quite openly, but there was +nothing in what she said, suggestive of the fact that she knew who +killed her brother. + +She wanted him to know who she was. If he feared an enemy in her, there +was yet time enough for him to close his doors against her. + +But less than a minute later, he had renewed his warmest offers of +hospitality. + +"Until we can arrange for your journey to England," he added with a +short sigh, as if reluctant to part from her. + +To Juliette his attitude seemed one of complete indifference for the +wrong he had done to her and to her father: feeling that she was an +avenging spirit, with flaming sword in hand, pursuing her brother's +murderer like a relentless Nemesis, she would have preferred to see him +cowed before her, even afraid of her, though she was only a young and +delicate girl. + +She did not understand that in the simplicity of his heart, he only +wished to make amends. The quarrel with the young Vicomte de Marny had +been forced upon him, the fight had been honourable and fair, and on his +side fought with every desire to spare the young man. He had merely been +the instrument of Fate, but he felt happy that Fate once more used him +as her tool, this time to save the sister. + +Whilst Deroulede and Juliette talked together Anne Mie cleared the +supper-table, then came and sat on a low stool at madame's feet. She +took no part in the conversation, but every now and then Juliette felt +the girl's melancholy eyes fixed almost reproachfully upon her. + +When Juliette had retired with Petronelle, Deroulede took Anne Mie's +hand in his. + +"You will be kind to my guest, Anne Mie, won't you? She seems very +lonely, and has gone through a great deal." + +"Not more than I have," murmured the young girl involuntarily. + +"You are not happy, Anne Mie? I thought ..." + +"Is a wretched, deformed creature ever happy?" she said with sudden +vehemence, as tears of mortification rushed to her eyes, in spite of +herself. + +"I did not think that you were wretched," he replied with some sadness, +"and neither in my eyes, nor in my mother's, are you in any way +deformed." + +Her mood changed at once. She clung to him, pressing his hand between +her own. + +"Forgive me! I--I don't know what's the matter with me to-night," she +said with a nervous little laugh. "Let me see, you asked me to be kind +to Mademoiselle Marny, did you not?" + +He nodded with a smile. + +"Of course I'll be kind to her. Isn't every one kind to one who is young +and beautiful, and has great, appealing eyes, and soft, curly hair? Ah +me! how easy is the path in life for some people! What do you want me to +do, Paul? Wait on her? Be her little maid? Soothe her nerves or what? +I'll do it all, though in her eyes I shall remain both wretched and +deformed, a creature to pity, the harmless, necessary house-dog ..." + +She paused a moment: said "Good-night" to him, and turned to go, candle +in hand, looking pathetic and fragile, with that ugly contour of +shoulder, which Deroulede assured her he could not see. + +The candle flickered in the draught, illumining the thin, pinched face, +the large melancholy eyes of the faithful house-dog. + +"Who can watch and bite!" she said half-audibly as she slipped out of +the room. "For I do not trust you, my fine madam, and there was +something about that comedy this afternoon, which somehow, I don't quite +understand." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A day in the woods. + + +But whilst men and women set to work to make the towns of France hideous +with their shrieks and their hootings, their mock-trials and bloody +guillotines, they could not quite prevent Nature from working her sweet +will with the country. + +June, July, and August had received new names--they were now called +Messidor, Thermidor, and Fructidor, but under these new names they +continued to pour forth upon the earth the same old fruits, the same +flowers, the same grass in the meadows and leaves upon the trees. + +Messidor brought its quota of wild roses in the hedgerows, just as +archaic June had done. Thermidor covered the barren cornfields with its +flaming mantle of scarlet poppies, and Fructidor, though now called +August, still tipped the wild sorrel with dots of crimson, and laid the +first wash of tender colour on the pale cheeks of the ripening peaches. + +And Juliette--young, girlish, feminine and inconsequent--had sighed for +country and sunshine, had longed for a ramble in the woods, the music of +the birds, the sight of the meadows sugared with marguerites. + +She had left the house early: accompanied by Petronelle, she had been +rowed along the river as far as Suresnes. They had brought some bread +and fresh butter, a little wine and fruit in a basket, and from here she +meant to wander homewards through the woods. + +It was all so peaceful, so remote: even the noise of shrieking, howling +Paris did not reach the leafy thickets of Suresnes. + +It almost seemed as if this little old-world village had been forgotten +by the destroyers of France. It had never been a royal residence, the +woods had never been preserved for royal sport: there was no vengeance +to be wreaked upon its peaceful glades and sleepy, fragrant meadows. + +Juliette spent a happy day; she loved the flowers, the trees, the birds, +and Petronelle was silent and sympathetic. As the afternoon wore on, and +it was time to go home, Juliette turned townwards with a sigh. + +You all know that road through the woods, which lies to the north-west +of Paris: so leafy, so secluded. No large, hundred-year-old trees, no +fine oaks or antique elms, but numberless delicate stems of hazel-nut +and young ash, covered with honeysuckle at this time of year, +sweet-smelling and so peaceful after that awful turmoil of the town. + +Obedient to Madame Deroulede's suggestion, Juliette had tied a tricolour +scarf round her waist, and a Phrygian cap of crimson cloth, with the +inevitable rosette on one side, adorned her curly head. + +She had gathered a huge bouquet of poppies, marguerites and blue lupin +--Nature's tribute to the national colours--and as she wandered through +the sylvan glades she looked like some quaint dweller of the woods--a +sprite, mayhap--with old mother Petronelle trotting behind her, like an +attendant witch. + +Suddenly she paused, for in the near distance she had perceived the +sound of footsteps upon the leafy turf, and the next moment Paul +Deroulede emerged from out the thicket and came rapidly towards her. + +"We were so anxious about you at home!" he said, almost by way of an +apology. "My mother became so restless ..." + +"That to quiet her fears you came in search of me!" she retorted with a +gay little laugh, the laugh of a young girl, scarce a woman as yet, who +feels that she is good to look at, good to talk to, who feels her wings +for the first time, the wings with which to soar into that mad, merry, +elusive and called Romance. Ay, her wings! but her power also! that +sweet, subtle power of the woman: the yoke which men love, rail at, and +love again, the yoke that enslaves them and gives them the joy of kings. + +How happy the day had been! Yet it had been incomplete! + +Petronelle was somewhat dull, and Juliette was too young to enjoy long +companionship with her own thoughts. Now suddenly the day seemed to have +become perfect. There was someone there to appreciate the charm of the +woods, the beauty of that blue sky peeping though the tangled foliage of +the honeysuckle-covered trees. There was some one to talk to, someone to +admire the fresh white frock Juliette had put on that morning. + +"But how did you know where to find me?" she asked with a quaint touch +of immature coquetry. + +"I didn't know," he replied quietly. "They told me you had gone to +Suresness, and meant to wander homewards through the woods. It +frightened me, for you will have to go through the north-west barrier, +and ..." + +"Well?" + +He smiled, and looked earnestly for a moment at the dainty apparition +before him. + +"Well, you know!" he said gaily, "that tricolour scarf and the red cap +are not quite sufficient as a disguise: you look anything but a staunch +friend of the people. I guessed that your muslin frock would be clean, +and that there would still be some tell-tale lace upon it." + +She laughed again, and with delicate fingers lifted her pretty muslin +frock, displaying a white frou-frou of flounces beneath the hem. + +"How careless and childish!" he said, almost roughly. + +"Would you have me coarse and grimy to be a fitting match for your +partisans?" she retorted. + +His tone of mentor nettled her, his attitude seemed to her priggish and +dictatorial, and as the sun disappearing behind a sudden cloud, so her +childish merriment quickly gave place to a feeling of unexplainable +disappointment. + +"I humbly beg your pardon," he said quietly, "And must crave your kind +indulgence for my mood: but I have been so anxious ..." + +"Why should you be anxious about me?" + +She had meant to say this indifferently, as if caring little what the +reply might be: but in her effort to seem indifferent her voice became +haughty, a reminiscence of the days when she still was the daughter of +the Duc de Marny, the richest and most high-born heiress in France. + +"Was that presumptuous?" he asked, with a slight touch of irony, in +response to her own hauteur. + +"It was merely unnecessary," she replied. "I have already laid too many +burdens on your shoulders, without wishing to add that of anxiety." + +"You have laid no burden on me," he said quietly, "save one of +gratitude." + +"Gratitude? What have I done?" + +"You committed a foolish, thoughtless act outside my door, and gave me +the chance of easing my conscience of a heavy load." + +"In what way?" + +"I had never hoped that the Fates would be so kind as to allow me to +render a member of your family a slight service." + +"I understand that you saved my life the other day, Monsieur Deroulede. +I know that I am still in peril and that I owe my safety to you ..." + +"Do you also know that your brother owed his death to me?" + +She closed her lips firmly, unable to reply, wrathful with him, for +having suddenly and without any warning, placed a clumsy hand upon that +hidden sore. + +"I always meant to tell you," he continued somewhat hurriedly; "for it +almost seemed to me that I have been cheating you, these last few days. +I don't suppose that you can quite realise what it means to me to tell +you this just now; but I owe it to you, I think. In later years you +might find out, and then regret the days you spent under my roof. I +called you childish a moment ago, you must forgive me; I know that you +are a woman, and hope therefore that you will understand me. I killed +your brother in fair fight. He provoked me as no man was ever provoked +before ..." + +"Is it necessary, M. Deroulede, that you should tell me all this?" she +interrupted him with some impatience. + +"I thought you ought to know." + +"You must know, on the other hand, that I have no means of hearing the +history of the quarrel from my brother's point of view now." + +The moment the words were out of her lips she had realised how cruelly +she had spoken. He did not reply; he was too chivalrous, too gentle, to +reproach her. Perhaps he understood for the first time how bitterly she +had felt her brother's death, and how deeply she must be suffering, now +that she knew herself to be face to face with his murderer. + +She stole a quick glance at him, through her tears. She was deeply +penitent for what she had said. It almost seemed to her as if a dual +nature was at war within her. + +The mention of her brother's name, the recollection of that awful night +beside his dead body, of those four years whilst she watched her +father's moribund reason slowly wandering towards the grave, seemed to +rouse in her a spirit of rebellion, and of evil, which she felt was not +entirely of herself. + +The woods had become quite silent. It was late afternoon, and they had +gradually wandered farther and farther away from pretty sylvan +Suresness, towards great, anarchic, deathdealing Paris. In this part of +the woods the birds had left their homes; the trees, shorn of their +lower branches looked like gaunt spectres, raising melancholy heads +towards the relentless, silent sky. + +In the distance, from behind the barriers, a couple of miles away, the +boom of a gun was heard. + +"They are closing the barriers," he said quietly after a long pause. "I +am glad I was fortunate enough to meet you." + +"It was kind of you to seek for me," she said meekly. "I didn't mean +what I said just now ..." + +"I pray you, say no more about it. I can so well understand. I only wish +..." + +"It would be best I should leave your house," she said gently; "I have +so ill repaid your hospitality. Petronelle and I can easily go back to +our lodgings." + +"You would break my mother's heart if you left her now," he said, almost +roughly. "She has become very fond of you, and knows, just as well as I +do, the dangers that would beset you outside my house. My coarse and +grimy partisans," he added, with a bitter touch of sarcasm, "have that +advantage, that they are loyal to me, and would not harm you while under +my roof." + +"But you ..." she murmured. + +She felt somehow that she had wounded him very deeply, and was half +angry with herself for her seeming ingratitude, and yet childishly glad +to have suppressed in him that attitude of mentorship, which he was +beginning to assume over her. + +"You need not fear that my presence will offend you much longer, +mademoiselle," he said coldly. "I can quite understand how hateful it +must be to you, though I would have wished that you could believe at +least in my sincerity." + +"Are you going away then?" + +"Not out of Paris altogether. I have accepted the post of Governor of +the Conciergerie." + +"Ah!--where the poor Queen ..." + +She checked herself suddenly. Those words would have been called +treasonable to the people of France. + +Instinctively and furtively, as everyone did in these days, she cast a +rapid glance behind her. + +"You need not be afraid," he said; "there is no one here but +Petronelle." + +"And you." + +"Oh! I echo your words. Poor Marie Antoinette!" + +"You pity her?" + +"How can I help it?" + +"But your are that horrible National Convention, who will try her, +condemn her, execute her as they did the King." + +"I am of the National Convention. But I will not condemn her, nor be a +party to another crime. I go as Governor of the Conciergerie, to help +her, if I can." + +"But your popularity--your life--if you befriend her?" + +"As you say, mademoiselle, my life, if I befriend her," he said simply. + +She looked at him with renewed curiosity in her gaze. + +How strange were men in these days! Paul Deroulede, the republican, the +recognised idol of the lawless people of France, was about to risk his +life for the woman he had helped to dethrone. + +Pity with him did not end with the rabble of Paris; it had reached +Charlotte Corday, though it failed to save her, and now it extended to +the poor dispossessed Queen. Somehow, in his face this time, she saw +either success or death. + +"When do you leave?" she asked. + +"To-morrow night." + +She said nothing more. Strangely enough, a tinge of melancholy had +settled over her spirits. No doubt the proximity of the town was the +cause of this. She could already hear the familiar noise of muffled +drums, the loud, excited shrieking of the mob, who stood round the gates +of Paris, at this time of the evening, waiting to witness some important +capture, perhaps that of a hated aristocrat striving to escape from the +people's revenge. + +They had reached the edge of the wood, and gradually, as she walked, the +flowers she had gathered fell unheeded out of her listless hands one by +one. + +First the blue lupins: their bud-laden heads were heavy and they dropped +to the ground, followed by the white marguerites, that lay thick behind +her now on the grass like a shroud. The red poppies were the lightest, +their thin gummy stalks clung to her hands longer than the rest. At last +she let them fall too, singly, like great drops of blood, that glistened +as her long white gown swept them aside. + +Deroulede was absorbed in his thoughts, and seemed not to heed her. At +the barrier, however, he roused himself and took out the passes which +alone enabled Juliette and Petronelle to re-enter the town unchallenged. +He himself as Citizen-Deputy could come and go as he wished. + +Juliette shuddered as the great gates closed behind her with a heavy +clank. It seemed to shut out even the memory of this happy day, which +for a brief space had been quite perfect. + +She did not know Paris very well, and wondered where lay that gloomy +Conciergerie, where a dethroned queen was living her last days, in an +agonised memory of the past. But as they crossed the bridge she +recognised all round her the massive towers of the great city: Notre +Dame, the grateful spire of La Sainte Chapelle, the sombre outline of +St. Gervais, and behind her the Louvre with its great history and +irreclaimable grandeur. How small her own tragedy seemed in the midst of +this great sanguinary drama, the last act of which had not yet even +begun. Her own revenge, her oath, her tribulations, what were they in +comparison with that great flaming Nemesis which had swept away a +throne, that vow of retaliation carried out by thousands against other +thousands, that long story of degradation, of regicide, of fratricide, +the awesome chapters of which were still being unfolded one by one? + +She felt small and petty: ashamed of the pleasure she had felt in the +woods, ashamed of her high spirits and light-heartedness, ashamed of +that feeling of sudden pity and admiration for the man who had done her +and her family so deep an injury, which she was too feeble, too +vacillating to avenge. + +The majestic outline of the Louvre seemed to frown sarcastically on her +weakness, the silent river to mock her and her wavering purpose. The man +beside her had wronged her and hers far more deeply than the Bourbons +had wronged their people. The people of France were taking their +revenge, and God had at the close of this last happy day of her life +pointed once more to the means for her great end. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +The Scarlet Pimpernel. + + +It was some few hours later. The ladies sat in the drawing-room, silent +and anxious. + +Soon after supper a visitor had called, and had been closeted with Paul +Deroulede in the latter's study for the past two hours. + +A tall, somewhat lazy-looking figure, he was sitting at a table face to +face with the Citizen-Deputy. On a chair beside him lay a heavy caped +coat, covered with the dust and the splashings of a long journey, but he +himself was attired in clothes that suggested the most fastidious taste, +and the most perfect of tailors; he wore with apparent ease the +eccentric fashion of the time, the short-waisted coat of many lapels, +the double waistcoat and billows of delicate lace. Unlike Deroulede he +was of great height, with fair hair and a somewhat lazy expression in +his good-natured blue eyes, and as he spoke, there was just a soupcon of +foreign accent in the pronunciation of the French vowels, a certain +drawl of o's and a's, that would have betrayed the Britisher to an +observant ear. + +The two men had been talking earnestly for some time, the tall +Englishman was watching his friend keenly, whilst an amused, pleasant +smile lingered round the corners of his firm mouth and jaw. Deroulede, +restless and enthusiastic, was pacing to and fro. + +"But I don't understand now, how you managed to reach Paris, my dear +Blakeney!" said Deroulede at last, placing an anxious hand on his +friend's shoulder. "The government has not forgotten The Scarlet +Pimpernel." + +"La! I took care of that!" responded Blakeney with his short, pleasant +laugh. "I sent Tinville my autograph this morning." + +"You are mad, Blakeney!" + +"Not altogether, my friend. My faith! 'twas on only foolhardiness caused +me to grant that devilish prosecutor another sight of my scarlet device. +I knew what you maniacs would be after, so I came across in the +_Daydream,_just to see if I couldn't get my share of the fun." + +"Fun, you call it?" queried the other bitterly. + +"Nay! what would you have me call it? A mad, insane, senseless tragedy, +with but one issue?--the guillotine for you all." + +"Then why did you come?" + +"To--What shall I say, my friend?" rejoined Sir Percy Blakeney, with +that inimitable drawl of his. "To give your demmed government something +else to think about, whilst you are all busy running your heads into a +noose." + +"What makes you think we are doing that?" + +"Three things, my friend--may I offer you a pinch of snuff--No?--Ah +well!..." And with the graceful gesture of an accomplished dandy, Sir +Percy flicked off a grain of dust from his immaculate Mechlin ruffles. + +"Three things," he continued quietly; "an imprisoned Queen, about to be +tried for her life, the temperament of a Frenchman--some of them--and +the idiocy of mankind generally. These three things make me think that a +certain section of hot-headed Republicans with yourself, my dear +Deroulede, _en tete,_ are about to attempt the most stupid, senseless, +purposeless thing that was ever concocted by the excitable brain of a +demmed Frenchman." + +Deroulede smiled. + +"Does it not seem amusing to you, Blakeney, that you should sit there +and condemn anyone for planning mad, insane, senseless things." + +"La! I'll not sit, I'll stand!" rejoined Blakeney with a laugh, as he +drew himself up to his full height, and stretched his long, lazy limbs. +"And now let me tell you, friend, that my League of The Scarlet +Pimpernel never attempted the impossible, and to try and drag the Queen +out of the clutches of these murderous rascals now, is attempting the +unattainable." + +"And yet we mean to try." + +"I know it. I guessed it, that is why I came: that is also why I sent a +pleasant little note to the Committee of Public Safety, signed with the +device they know so well: The Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"Well?" + +"Well! the result is obvious. Robespierre, Danton, Tinville, Merlin, and +the whole of the demmed murderous crowd, will be busy looking after +me--a needle in a haystack. They'll put the abortive attempt down to me, +and you may--_ma foi!_ I only suggest that you _may_ escape safely out +of France--in the _Daydream,_ and with the help of your humble servant." + +"But in the meanwhile they'll discover you, and they'll not let you +escape a second time." + +"My friend! if a terrier were to lose his temper, he never would run a +rat to earth. Now your Revolutionary Government has lost its temper with +me, ever since I slipped through Chauvelin's fingers; they are blind +with their own fury, whilst I am perfectly happy and cool as a cucumber. +My life has become valuable to me, my friend. There is someone over the +water now who weeps when I don't return--No! no! never fear--they'll not +get The Scarlet Pimpernel this journey ..." + +He laughed, a gay, pleasant laugh, and his strong, firm face seemed to +soften at thought of the beautiful wife, over in England, who was +waiting anxiously for his safe return. + +"And yet you'll not help us to rescue the Queen?" rejoined Deroulede, +with some bitterness. + +"By every means in my power," replied Blakeney, "save the insane. But I +will help to get you all out of the demmed hole, when you have failed." + +"We'll not fail," asserted the other hotly. + +Sir Percy Blakeney went close up to his friend and placed his long, +slender hand, with a touch of almost womanly tenderness upon the +latter's shoulder. + +"Will you tell me your plans?" + +In a moment Deroulede was all fire and enthusiasm. + +"There are not many of us in it," he began, "although half France will +be in sympathy with us. We have plenty of money, of course, and also the +necessary disguise for the royal lady." + +"Yes?" + +"I, in the meanwhile, have asked for and obtained the post of Governor +of the Conciergerie; I go into my new quarters to-morrow. In the +meanwhile, I am making arrangements for my mother and--and those +dependent upon me to quit France immediately." + +Blakeney had perceived the slight hesitation when Deroulede mentioned +those dependent upon him. He looked scrutinisingly at his friend, who +continued quickly: + +"I am still very popular among the people. My family can go about +unmolested. I must get them out of France, however, in case--in case +..." + +"Of course," rejoined the other simply. + +"As soon as I am assured that they are safe, my friends and I can +prosecute our plans. You see the trial of the Queen has not yet been +decided on, but I know that it is in the air. We hope to get her away, +disguised in one of the uniforms of the National Guard. As you know, it +will be my duty to make the final round every evening in the prison, and +to see that everything is safe for the night. Two fellows watch all +night, in the room next to that occupied by the Queen. Usually they +drink and play cards all night long. I want an opportunity to drug their +brandy, and thus to render them more loutish and idiotic than usual; +then for a blow on the head that will make them senseless. It should be +easy, for I have a strong fist, and after that ..." + +"Well? After that, friend?" rejoined Sir Percy earnestly, "after that? +Shall I fill in the details of the picture?--the guard twenty-five +strong outside the Conciergerie, how will you pass them?" + +"I as the Governor, followed by one of my guards ..." + +"To go whither?" + +"I have the right to come and go as I please." + +"I' faith! so you have, but 'one of your guards'--eh? Wrapped to the +eyes in a long mantle to hide the female figure beneath. I have been in +Paris but a few hours, and yet already I have realised that there is not +one demmed citizen within its walls, who does not at this moment suspect +some other demmed citizen of conniving at the Queen's escape. Even the +sparrows on the house-tops are objects of suspicion. No figure wrapped +in a mantle will from this day forth leave Paris unchallenged." + +"But you yourself, friend?" suggested Deroulede. "You think you can quit +Paris unrecognised--then why not the Queen?" + +"Because she is a woman, and has been a queen. She has nerves, poor +soul, and weaknesses of body and of mind now. Alas for her! Alas for +France! who wreaks such idle vengeance on so poor an enemy? Can you take +hold of Marie Antoinette by the shoulders, shove her into the bottom of +a cart and pile sacks of potatoes on the top of her? I did that to the +Comtesse de Tournai and her daughter, as stiff-necked a pair of French +aristocrats as ever deserved the guillotine for their insane prejudices. +But can you do it to Marie Antoinette? She'd rebuke you publicly, and +betray herself and you in a flash, sooner than submit to a loss of +dignity." + +"But would you leave her to her fate?" + +"Ah! there's the trouble, friend. Do you think you need appeal to the +sense of chivalry of my league? We are still twenty strong, and heart +and soul in sympathy with your mad schemes. The poor, poor Queen! But +you are bound to fail, and then who will help you all, if we too are put +out of the way?" + +"We should succeed if you helped us. At one time you used proudly to +say: 'The League of The Scarlet Pimpernel has never failed.'" + +"Because it attempted nothing which it could not accomplish. But, la! +since you put me on my mettle--Demm it all! I'll have to think about +it!" + +And he laughed that funny, somewhat inane laugh of his, which had +deceived the clever men of two countries as to his real personality. + +Deroulede went up to the heavy oak desk which occupied a conspicuous +place in the centre of one of the walls. He unlocked it and drew forth a +bundle of papers. + +"Will you look through these?" he asked, handing them to Sir Percy +Blakeney. + +"What are they?" + +"Different schemes I have drawn up, in case my original plan should not +succeed." + +"Burn them, my friend," said Blakeney laconically. "Have you not yet +learned the lesson of never putting your hand to paper?" + +"I can't burn these. You see, I shall not be able to have long +conversations with Marie Antoinette. I must give her my suggestions in +writing, that she may study them and not fail me, through lack of +knowledge of her part." + +"Better that than papers in these times, my friend: these papers, if +found, would send you, untried, to the guillotine." + +"I am careful, and, at present, quite beyond suspicion. Moreover, among +the papers is a complete collection of passports, suitable for any +character the Queen and her attendant may be forced to assume. It has +taken me some months to collect them, so as not to arouse suspicion; I +gradually got them together, on one pretence or another: now I am ready +for any eventuality ..." + +He suddenly paused. A look in his friend's face had given him a swift +warning. + +He turned, and there in the doorway, holding back the heavy portiere, +stood Juliette, graceful, smiling, a little pale, this no doubt owing to +the flickering light of the unsnuffed candles. + +So young and girlish did she look in her soft, white muslin frock that +at sight of her the tension in Deroulede's face seemed to relax. +Instinctively he had thrown the papers back into the desk, but his look +had softened, from the fire of obstinate energy to that of inexpressible +tenderness. + +Blakeney was quietly watching the young girl as she stood in the +doorway, a little bashful and undecided. + +"Madame Deroulede sent me," she said hesitatingly, "she says the hour is +getting late and she is very anxious. M. Deroulede, would you come and +reassure her?" + +"In a moment, mademoiselle," he replied lightly, "my friend and I have +just finished our talk. May I have the honour to present him?--Sir Percy +Blakeney, a traveller from England. Blakeney, this is Mademoiselle +Juliette de Marny, my mother's guest." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A warning. + + +Sir Percy bowed very low, with all the graceful flourish and elaborate +gesture the eccentric customs of the time demanded. + +He had not said a word, since the first exclamation of warning, with +which he had drawn his friend's attention to the young girl in the +doorway. + +Noiselessly, as she had come, Juliette glided out of the room again, +leaving behind her an atmosphere of wild flowers, of the bouquet she had +gathered, then scattered in the woods. + +There was silence in the room for awhile. Deroulede was locking up his +desk and slipping the keys into his pocket. + +"Shall we join my mother for a moment, Blakeney?" he said, moving +towards the door. + +"I shall be proud to pay my respects," replied Sir Percy; "but before we +close the subject, I think I'll change my mind about those papers. If I +am to be of service to you I think I had best look through them, and +give you my opinion of your schemes." + +Deroulede looked at him keenly for a moment. + +"Certainly," he said at last, going up to his desk. "I'll stay with you +whilst you read them through." + +"La! not to-night, my friend," said Sir Percy lightly; "the hour is +late, and madame is waiting for us. They'll be quite safe with me, and +you'll entrust them to my care." + +Deroulede seemed to hesitate. Blakeney had spoken in his usual airy +manner, and was even now busy readjusting the set of his +perfectly-tailored coat. + +"Perhaps you cannot quite trust me?" laughed Sir Percy gaily. "I seemed +too lukewarm just now." + +"No; it's not that, Blakeney!" said Deroulede quietly at last. "There is +no mistrust in me, all the mistrust is on your side." + +"Faith!--" began Sir Percy. + +"Nay! do not explain. I understand and appreciate your friendship, but I +should like to convince you how unjust is your mistrust of one of God's +purest angels, that ever walked the earth." + +"Oho! that's it, is it, friend Deroulede? Methought you had foresworn +the sex altogether, and now you are in love." + +"Madly, blindly, stupidly in love, my friend," said Deroulede with a +sigh. "Hopelessly, I fear me!" + +"Why hopelessly?" + +"She is the daughter of the late Duc de Marny, one of the oldest names +in France; a Royalist to the backbone ..." + +"Hence your overwhelming sympathy for the Queen!" + +"Nay! you wrong me there, friend. I'd have tried to save the Queen, even +if I had never learned to love Juliette. But you see now how unjust were +your suspicions." + +"Had I any?" + +"Don't deny it. You were loud in urging me to burn those papers a moment +ago. You called them useless and dangerous and now ..." + +"I still think them useless and dangerous, and by reading them would +wish to confirm my opinion and give weight to my arguments." + +"If I were to part from them now I would seem to be mistrusting her." + +"You are a mad idealist, my dear Deroulede!" + +"How can I help it? I have lived under the same roof with her for three +weeks now. I have begun to understand what a saint is like." + +"And 'twill be when you understand that your idol has feet of clay that +you'll learn the real lesson of love," said Blakeney earnestly. + +"Is it love to worship a saint in heaven, whom you dare not touch, who +hovers above you like a cloud, which floats away from you even as you +gaze? To love is to feel one being in the world at one with us, our +equal in sin as well as in virtue. To love, for us men, is to clasp one +woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and breathes just as we do, +suffers as we do, thinks with us, loves with us, and, above all, sins +with us. Your mock saint who stands in a niche is not a woman if she +have not suffered, still less a woman if she have not sinned. Fall at +the feet of your idol an you wish, but drag her down to your level after +that--the only level she should ever reach, that of your heart." + +Who shall render faithfully a true account of the magnetism which poured +forth from this remarkable man as he spoke: this well-dressed, foppish +apostle of the greatest love that man has ever known. And as he spoke +the whole story of his own great, true love for the woman who once had +so deeply wronged him seemed to stand clearly written in the strong, +lazy, good-humoured, kindly face glowing with tenderness for her. + +Deroulede felt this magnetism, and therefore did not resent the implied +suggestion, anent the saint whom he was still content to worship. + +A dreamer and an idealist, his mind held spellbound by the great social +problems which were causing the upheaval of a whole country, he had not +yet had the time to learn the sweet lesson which Nature teaches to her +elect--the lesson of a great, a true, human and passionate love. To him, +at present, Juliette represented the perfect embodiment of his most +idealistic dreams. She stood in his mind so far above him that if she +proved unattainable, he would scarce have suffered. It was such a +foregone conclusion. + +Blakeney's words were the first to stir in his heart a desire for +something beyond that quasi-mediaeval worship, something weaker and yet +infinitely stronger, something more earthy and yet almost divine. + +"And now, shall we join the ladies?" said Blakeney after a long pause, +during which the mental workings of his alert brain were almost visible, +in the earnest look which he cast at his friend. "You shall keep the +papers in your desk, give them into the keeping of your saint, trust her +all in all rather than not at all, and if the time should come that your +heaven-enthroned ideal fall somewhat heavily to earth, then give me the +privilege of being a witness to your happiness." + +"You are still mistrustful, Blakeney," said Deroulede lightly. "If you +say much more I'll give these papers into Mademoiselle Marny's keeping +until to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Anne Mie. + + +That night, when Blakeney, wrapped in his cloak, was walking down the +Rue Ecole de Medecine towards his own lodgings, he suddenly felt a timid +hand upon his sleeve. + +Anne Mie stood beside him, her pale, melancholy face peeping up at the +tall Englishman, through the folds of a dark hood closely tied under her +chin. + +"Monsieur," she said timidly, "do not think me very presumptuous. I--I +would wish to have five minutes' talk with you--may I?" + +He looked down with great kindness at the quaint, wizened little figure, +and the strong face softened at the sight of the poor, deformed +shoulder, the hard, pinched look of the young mouth, the general look of +pathetic helplessness which appeals so strongly to the chivalrous. + +"Indeed, mademoiselle," he said gently, "you make me very proud; and I +can serve you in any way, I pray you command me. But," he added, seeing +Anne Mie's somewhat scared look, "this street is scarce fit for private +conversation. Shall we try and find a better spot?" + +Paris had not yet gone to bed. In these times it was really safest to be +out in the open streets. There, everybody was more busy, more on the +move, on the lookout for suspected houses, leaving the wanderer alone. + +Blakeney led Anne Mie towards the Luxembourg Gardens, the great +devastated pleasure-ground of the ci-devant tyrants of the people. The +beautiful Anne of Austria, and the Medici before her, Louis XIII, and +his gallant musketeers--all have given place to the great cannon-forging +industry of this besieged Republic. France, attacked on every side, is +forcing her sons to defend her: persecuted, martyrised, done to death by +her, she is still their Mother: La Patrie, who needs their arms against +the foreign foe. England is threatening the north, Prussia and Austria +the east. Admiral Hood's flag is flying on Toulon Arsenal. + +The siege of the Republic! + +And the Republic is fighting for dear life. The Tuileries and Luxembourg +Gardens are transformed into a township of gigantic smithies; and Anne +Mie, with scared eyes, and clinging to Blakeney's arm, cast furtive, +terrified glances at the huge furnaces and the begrimed, darkly scowling +faces of the workers within. + +"The people of France in arms against tyranny!" Great placards, bearing +these inspiriting words, are affixed to gallows-shaped posts, and +flutter in the evening breeze, rendered scorching by the heat of the +furnaces all around. + +Farther on, a group of older men, squatting on the ground, are busy +making tents, and some women--the same Megaeras who daily shriek round +the guillotine--are plying their needles and scissors for the purpose of +making clothes for the soldiers. + +The soldiers are the entire able-bodied male population of France. + +"The people of France in arms against tyranny!" + +That is their sign, their trade-mark; one of these placards, fitfully +illumined by a torch of resin, towers above a group of children busy +tearing up scraps of old linen--their mothers', their sisters' linen +--in order to make lint for the wounded. + +Loud curses and suppressed mutterings fill the smoke-laden air. + +The people of France, in arms against tyranny, is bending its broad back +before the most cruel, the most absolute and brutish slave-driving ever +exercised over mankind. + +Not even mediaeval Christianity has ever dared such wholesale +enforcements of its doctrines, as this constitution of Liberty and +Fraternity. + +Merlin's "Law of the Suspect" has just been formulated. From now onward +each and every citizen of France must watch his words, his looks, his +gestures, lest they be suspect. Of what--of treason to the Republic, to +the people? Nay, worse! lest they be suspect of being suspect to the +great era of Liberty. + +Therefore in the smithies and among the groups of tent-makers a moment's +negligence, a careless attention to the work, might lead to a brief +trial on the morrow and the inevitable guillotine. Negligence is treason +to the higher interests of the Republic. + +Blakeney dragged Anne Mie away from the sight. These roaring furnaces +frightened her; he took her down the Place St Michel, towards the river. +It was quieter here. + +"What dreadful people they have become," she said, shuddering; "even I +can remember how different they used to be." + +The houses on the banks of the river were mostly converted into +hospitals, preparatory for the great siege. Some hundred metres lower +down, the new children's hospital, endowed by Citizen-Deputy Deroulede, +loomed, white, clean, and comfortable-looking, amidst its more squalid +fellows. + +"I think it would be best not to sit down," suggested Blakeney, "and +wiser for you to throw your hood away from your face." + +He seemed to have no fears for himself; many had said that he bore a +charmed life; and yet ever since Admiral Hood had planted his flag on +Toulon Arsenal, the English were more feared than ever, and The Scarlet +Pimpernel more hated than most. + +"You wished to speak to me about Paul Deroulede," he said kindly, seeing +that the young girl was making desperate efforts to say what lay on her +mind. "He is my friend, you know." + +"Yes; that is why I wished to ask you a question," she replied. + +"What is it?" + +"Who is Juliette de Marny, and why did she seek an entrance into Paul's +house?" + +"Did she seek it, then?" + +"Yes; I saw the scene from the balcony. At the time it did not strike me +as a farce. I merely thought that she had been stupid and foolhardy. But +since then I have reflected. She provoked the mob of the street, +wilfully, just at the very moment when she reached M. Deroulede's door. +She meant to appeal to his chivalry, and called for help, well knowing +that he would respond." + +She spoke rapidly and excitedly now, throwing off all shyness and +reserve. Blakeney was forced to check her vehemence, which might have +been thought "suspicious" by some idle citizen unpleasantly inclined. + +"Well? And now?" he asked, for the young girl had paused, as if ashamed +of her excitement. + +"And now she stays in the house, on and on, day after day," continued +Anne Mie, speaking more quietly, though with no less intensity. "Why +does she not go? She is not safe in France. She belongs to the most +hated of all the classes--the idle, rich aristocrats of the old regime. +Paul has several times suggested plans for her emigration to England. +Madame Deroulede, who is an angel, loves her, and would not like to part +from her, but it would be obviously wiser for her to go, and yet she +stays. Why?" + +"Presumably because ..." + +"Because she is in love with Paul?" interrupted Anne Mie vehemently. +"No, no; she does not love him--at least--Oh! sometimes I don't know. +Her eyes light up when he comes, and she is listless when he goes. She +always spends a longer time over her toilet, when we expect him home to +dinner," she added, with a touch of naive femininity. "But--if it be +love, then that love is strange and unwomanly; it is a love that will +not be for his good ..." + +"Why should you think that?" + +"I don't know," said the girl simply. "Isn't it an instinct?" + +"Not a very unerring one in this case, I fear." + +"Why?" + +"Because your own love for Paul Deroulede has blinded you--- Ah! you +must pardon me, mademoiselle; you sought this conversation and not I, +and I fear me I have wounded you. Yet I would wish you to know how deep +is my sympathy with you, and how great my desire to render you a service +if I could." + +"I was about to ask a service of you, monsieur." + +"Then command me, I beg of you." + +"You are Paul's friend--persuade him that that woman in his house is a +standing danger to his life and liberty." + +"He would not listen to me." + +"Oh! a man always listens to another." + +"Except on one subject--the woman he loves." + +He had said the last words very gently but very firmly. He was deeply, +tenderly sorry for the poor, deformed, fragile girl, doomed to be a +witness of that most heartrending of human tragedies, the passing away +of her own scarce-hoped-for happiness. But he felt that at this moment +the kindest act would be one of complete truth. He knew that Paul +Deroulede's heart was completely given to Juliette de Marny; he too, +like Anne Mie, instinctively mistrusted the beautiful girl and her +strange, silent ways, but, unlike the poor hunchback, he knew that no +sin which Juliette might commit would henceforth tear her from out the +heart of his friend; that if, indeed, she turned out to be false, or +even treacherous, she would, nevertheless, still hold a place in +Deroulede's very soul, which no one else would ever fill. + +"You think he loves her?" asked Anne Mie at last. + +"I am sure of it." + +"And she?" + +"Ah! I do not know. I would trust your instinct--a woman's--sooner than +my own." + +"She is false, I tell you, and is hatching treason against Paul." + +"Then all we can do is to wait." + +"Wait?" + +"And watch carefully, earnestly, all the time. There! shall I pledge you +my word that Deroulede shall come to no harm?" + +"Pledge me your word that you'll part him from that woman." + +"Nay; that is beyond my power. A man like Paul Deroulede only loves once +in life, but when he does, it is for always." + +Once more she was silent, pressing her lips closely together, as if +afraid of what she might say. + +He saw that she was bitterly disappointed, and sought for a means of +tempering the cruelty of the blow. + +"It will be your task to watch over Paul," he said; "with your +friendship to guard and protect him, we need have no fear for his +safety, I think." + +"I will watch," she replied quietly. + +Gradually he had led her steps back towards the Rue Ecole de Medecine. + +A great melancholy had fallen over his bold, adventurous spirit. How +full of tragedies was this great city, in the last throes of its insane +and cruel struggle for an unattainable goal. And yet, despite its +guillotine and mock trials, its tyrannical laws and overfilled prisons, +its very sorrows paled before the dead, dull misery of this deformed +girl's heart. + +A wild exaltation, a fever of enthusiasm lent glamour to the scenes +which were daily enacted on the Place de la Revolution, turning the +final acts of the tragedies into glaring, lurid melodrama, almost unreal +in its poignant appeal to the sensibilities. + +But here there was only this dead, dull misery, an aching heart, a poor, +fragile creature in the throes of an agonised struggle for a +fast-disappearing happiness. + +Anne Mie hardly knew now what she had hoped, when she sought this +interview with Sir Percy Blakeney. Drowning in a sea of hopelessness, +she had clutched at what might prove a chance of safety. Her reason told +her that Paul's friend was right. Deroulede was a man who would love but +once in his life. He had never loved--for he had too much pitied--poor, +pathetic little Anne Mie. + +Nay; why should we say that love and pity are akin? + +Love, the great, the strong, the conquering god--Love that subdues a +world, and rides roughshod over principle, virtue, tradition, over home, +kindred, and religion--what cares he for the easy conquest of the +pathetic being, who appeals to his sympathy? + +Love means equality--the same height of heroism or of sin. When Love +stoops to pity, he has ceased to soar in the boundless space, that +rarefied atmosphere wherein man feels himself made at last truly in the +image of God. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Jealousy. + + +At the door of her home Blakeney parted from Anne Mie, with all the +courtesy with which he would have bade adieu to the greatest lady in his +own land. + +Anne Mie let herself into the house with her own latch-key. She closed +the heavy door noiselessly, then glided upstairs like a quaint little +ghost. + +But on the landing above she met Paul Deroulede. + +He had just come out of his room, and was still fully dressed. + +"Anne Mie!" he said, with such an obvious cry of pleasure, that the +young girl, with beating heart, paused a moment on the top of the +stairs, as if hoping to hear that cry again, feeling that indeed he was +glad to see her, had been uneasy because of her long absence. + +"Have I made you anxious?" she asked at last. + +"Anxious!" he exclaimed. "Little one, I have hardly lived this last +hour, since I realised that you had gone out so late as this, and all +alone." + +"How did you know?" + +"Mademoiselle de Marny knocked at my door an hour ago. She had gone to +your room to see you, and, not finding you there, she searched the house +for you, and finally, in her anxiety, came to me. We did not dare to +tell my mother. I won't ask you where you have been, Anne Mie, but +another time, remember, little one, that the streets of Paris are not +safe, and that those who love you suffer deeply, when they know you to +be in peril." + +"Those who love me!" murmured the girl under her breath. + +"Could you not have asked me to come with you?" + +"No; I wanted to be alone. The streets were quite safe, and--I wanted to +speak with Sir Percy Blakeney." + +"With Blakeney?" he exclaimed in boundless astonishment. "Why, what in +the world did you want to say him?" + +The girl, so unaccustomed to lying, had blurted out the truth, almost +against her will. + +"I thought he could help me, as I was much perturbed and restless." + +"You went to him sooner than to me?" said Deroulede in a tone of gentle +reproach, and still puzzled at this extraordinary action on the part of +the girl, usually so shy and reserved. + +"My anxiety was about you, and you would have mocked me for it." + +"Indeed, I should never mock you, Anne Mie. But why should you be +anxious about me?" + +"Because I see you wandering blindly on the brink of a great danger, and +because I see you confiding in those, whom you had best mistrust." + +He frowned a little, and bit his lip to check the rough word that was on +the tip of his tongue. + +"Is Sir Percy Blakeney one of those whom I had best mistrust?" he said +lightly. + +"No," she answered curtly. + +"Then, dear, there is no cause for unrest. He is the only one of my +friends whom you have not known intimately. All those who are round me +now, you know that you can trust and that you can love," he added +earnestly and significantly. + +He took her hand; it was trembling with obvious suppressed agitation. +She knew that he had guessed what was passing in her mind, and now was +deeply ashamed of what she had done. She had been tortured with jealousy +for the past three weeks, but at least she had suffered quite alone: on +one had been allowed to touch that wound, which more often than not, +excites derision rather than pity. Now, by her own actions, two men knew +her secret. Both were kind and sympathetic; but Deroulede resented her +imputations, and Blakeney had been unable to help her. + +A wave of morbid introspection swept over her soul. She realised in a +moment how petty and base had been her thoughts and how purposeless her +actions. She would have given her life at this moment to eradicate from +Deroulede's mind the knowledge of her own jealousy; she hoped that at +least he had not guessed her love. + +She tried to read his thoughts, but in the dark passage, only dimly +lighted by the candles in Deroulede's room beyond, she could not see the +expression of his face, but the hand which held hers was warm and +tender. She felt herself pitied, and blushed at the thought. With a +hasty good-night she fled down the passage, and locked herself in her +room, alone with her own thoughts at last. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Denunciation. + + +But what of Juliette? + +What of this wild, passionate, romantic creature tortured by a Titanic +conflict? She, but a girl, scarcely yet a woman, torn by the greatest +antagonistic powers that ever fought for a human soul. On the one side +duty, tradition, her dead brother, her father--above all, her religion +and the oath she had sworn before God; on the other justice and honour, +a case of right and wrong, honesty and pity. + +How she fought with these powers now! + +She fought with them, struggled with them on her knees. She tried to +crush memory, tried to forget that awful midnight scene ten years ago, +her brother's dead body, her father's avenging hand holding her own, as +he begged her to do that, which he was too feeble, too old to +accomplish. + +His words rang in her ears from across that long vista of the past. + +"Before the face of Almighty God, who sees and hears me, I swear ..." + +And she had repeated those words loudly and of her own free will, with +her hand resting on her brother's breast, and God Himself looking down +upon her, for she had called upon Him to listen. + +"I swear that I will seek out Paul Deroulede, and in any manner which +God may dictate to me encompass his death, his ruin, or dishonour in +revenge for my brother's death. May my brother's soul remain in torment +until the final Judgment Day if I should break my oath, but may it rest +in eternal peace, the day on which his death is fitly avenged." + +Almost it seemed to her as if father and brother were standing by her +side, as she knelt and prayed.--Oh! how she prayed! + +In many ways she was only a child. All her years had been passed in +confinement, either beside her dying father or, later, between the four +walls of the Ursuline Convent. And during those years her soul had been +fed on a contemplative, ecstatic religion, a kind of sanctified +superstition, which she would have deemed sacrilege to combat. + +Her first step into womanhood was taken with that oath upon her lips; +since then, with a stoical sense of duty, she had lashed herself into a +daily, hourly remembrance of the great mission imposed upon her. + +To have neglected it would have been, to her, equal to denying God. + +She had but vague ideas of the doctrinal side of religion. Purgatory was +to her merely a word, but a word representing a real spiritual +state--one of expectancy, of restlessness, of sorrow. And vaguely, yet +determinedly, she believed that her brother's soul suffered, because she +had been too weak to fulfil her oath. + +The Church had not come to her rescue. The ministers of her religion +were scattered to the four corners of besieged, agonising France. She +had no one to help her, no one to comfort her. That very peaceful, +contemplative life she had led in the convent, only served to enhance +her feeling of the solemnity of her mission. + +It was true, it was inevitable, because it was so hard. + +To the few who, throughout those troublous times, had kept a feeling of +veneration for their religion, this religion had become one of +abnegation and martyrdom. + +A spirit of uncompromising Jansenism seemed to call forth sacrifices and +renunciation, whereas the happy-go-lucky Catholicism of the past century +had only suggested an easy, flowered path, to a comfortable, +well-upholstered heaven. + +The harder the task seemed which was set before her, the more real it +became to Juliette. God, she firmly believed, had at last, after ten +years, shown her the way to wreak vengeance upon her brother's murderer. +He had brought her to this house, caused her to see and hear part of the +conversation between Blakeney and Deroulede, and this at the moment of +all others, when even the semblance of a conspiracy against the Republic +would bring the one inevitable result in its train: disgrace first, the +hasty mock trial, the hall of justice, and the guillotine. + +She tried not to hate Deroulede. She wished to judge him coldly and +impartially, or rather to indict him before the throne of God, and to +punish him for the crime he had committed ten years ago. Her personal +feelings must remain out of the question. + +Had Charlotte Corday considered her own sensibilities, when with her own +hand she put an end to Marat? + +Juliette remained on her knees for hours. She heard Anne Mie come home, +and Deroulede's voice of welcome on the landing. This was perhaps the +most bitter moment of this awful soul conflict, for it brought to her +mind the remembrance of those others who would suffer too, and who were +innocent--Madame Deroulede and poor, crippled Anne Mie. They had done no +wrong, and yet how heavily would they be punished! + +And then the saner judgment, the human, material code of ethics gained +for a while the upper hand. Juliette would rise from her knees, dry her +eyes, prepare quietly to go to bed, and to forget all about the awful, +relentless Fate which dragged her to the fulfilment of its will, and +then sink back, broken-hearted, murmuring impassioned prayers for +forgiveness to her father, her brother, her God. + +The soul was young and ardent, and it fought for abnegation, martyrdom, +and stern duty; the body was childlike, and it fought for peace, +contentment, and quiet reason. + +The rational body was conquered by the passionate, powerful soul. + +Blame not the child, for in herself she was innocent. She was but +another of the many victims of this cruel, mad, hysterical time, that +spirit of relentless tyranny, forcing its doctrines upon the weak. + +With the first break of dawn Juliette at last finally rose from her +knees, bathed her burning eyes and head, tidied her hair and dress, then +she sat down at the table, and began to write. + +She was a transformed being now, no longer a child, essentially a +woman--a Joan of Arc with a mission, a Charlotte Corday going to +martyrdom, a human, suffering, erring soul, committing a great crime for +the sake of an idea. + +She wrote out carefully and with a steady hand the denunciation of +Citizen-Deputy Deroulede which has become an historical document, and is +preserved in the chronicles of France. + +You have all seen it at the Musee Carnavalet in its glass case, its +yellow paper and faded ink revealing nothing of the soul conflict of +which it was the culminating victory. The cramped, somewhat +schoolgirlish writing is the mute, pathetic witness of one of the +saddest tragedies, that era of sorrow and crime has ever known: + +/* +_To the Representatives of the People now sitting in Assembly at + the National Convention_ + +You trust and believe in the Representative of the people: +Citizen-Deputy Paul Deroulede. He is false, and a traitor to the +Republic. He is planning, and hopes to effect, the release of +ci-devant Marie Antoinette, widow of the traitor Louis Capet. Haste! +ye representatives of the people! proofs of his assertion, papers +and plans, are still in the house of the Citizen-Deputy Deroulede. +This statement is made by one who knows. + +_I. The 23rd Fructidor._ +*/ + +When her letter was written she read it through carefully, made the one +or two little corrections, which are still visible in the document, then +folded her missive, hid it within the folds of her kerchief, and, +wrapping a dark cloak and hood round her, she slipped noiselessly out of +her room. + +The house was all quiet and still. She shuddered a little as the cool +morning air fanned her hot cheeks: it seemed like the breath of ghosts. + +She ran quickly down the stairs, and as rapidly as she could, pushed +back the heavy bolts of the front door, and slipped out into the street. + +Already the city was beginning to stir. There was no time for sleep, +when so much had to be done for the safety of the threatened Republic. +As Juliette turned her steps towards the river, she met the crowd of +workmen, whom France was employing for her defence. + +Behind her, in the Luxembourg Gardens, and all along the opposite bank +of the river, the furnaces were already ablaze, and the smiths at work +forging the guns. + +At every step now Juliette came across the great placards, pinned to the +tall gallows-shaped posts, which proclaim to every passing citizen, that +the people of France are up and in arms. + +Right across the Place de l'Institut a procession of market carts, laden +with vegetables and a little fruit, wends its way slowly towards the +centre of the town. They each carry tiny tricolour flags, with a Pike +and Cap of Liberty surmounting the flagstaff. + +They are good patriots the market-gardeners, who come in daily to feed +the starving mob of Paris, with the few handfuls of watery potatoes, and +miserable, vermin-eaten cabbages, which that fraternal Revolution still +allows them to grow without hindrance. + +Everyone seems busy with their work this early in the morning: the +business of killing does not begin until later in the day. + +For the moment Juliette can get along quite unmolested: the women and +children mostly hurrying on towards the vast encampments in the +Tuileries, where lint, and bandages, and coats for the soldiers are +manufactured all the day. + +The walls of all the houses bear the great patriotic device: "_Liberte, +Egalite, Fraternite, sinon La Mort_"; others are more political in their +proclamation: "_La Republique une et indivisible_." + +But on the walls of the Louvre, of the great palace of whilom kings, +where the Roi Soleil held his Court, and flirted with the prettiest +women in France, there the new and great Republic has affixed its final +mandate. + +A great poster glued to the wall bears the words: "_La Loi concernan les +Suspects_." Below the poster is a huge wooden box with a slit at the +top. + +This is the latest invention for securing the safety of this one and +indivisible Republic. + +Henceforth everyone becomes a traitor at one word of denunciation from +an idler or an enemy, and, as in the most tyrannical days of the Spanish +Inquisition one-half of the nation was set to spy upon the other, that +wooden box, with its slit, is put there ready to receive denunciations +from one hand against another. + +Had Juliette paused but for the fraction of a second, had she stopped to +read the placard setting forth this odious law, had she only reflected, +then she would even now have turned back, and fled from that gruesome +box of infamies, as she would from a dangerous and noisome reptile or +from the pestilence. + +But her long vigil, her prayers, her ecstatic visions of heroic martyrs +had now completely numbed her faculties. Her vitality, her sensibilities +were gone: she had become an automaton gliding to her doom, without a +thought or a tremor. + +She drew the letter from her bosom, and with a steady hand dropped it +into the box. The irreclaimable had now occurred. Nothing she could +henceforth say or do, no prayers or agonised vigils, no miracles even, +could undo her action or save Paul Deroulede from trial and guillotine. + +One or two groups of people hurrying to their work had seen her drop the +letter into the box. A couple of small children paused, finger in mouth, +gazing at her with inane curiosity; one woman uttered a coarse jest, all +of them shrugged their shoulders, and passed on, on their way. Those who +habitually crossed this spot were used to such sights. + +That wooden box, with its mouthlike slit was like an insatiable monster +that was constantly fed, yet was still gaping for more. + +Having done the deed Juliette turned, and as rapidly as she had come, so +she went back to her temporary home. + +A home no more now; she must leave it at once, to-day if possible. This +much she knew, that she no longer could touch the bread of the man she +had betrayed. She would not appear at breakfast, she could plead a +headache, and in the afternoon Petronelle should pack her things. + +She turned into a little shop close by, and asked for a glass of milk +and a bit of bread. The woman who served her eyed her with some +curiosity, for Juliette just now looked almost out of her mind. + +She had not yet begun to think, and she had ceased to suffer. + +Both would come presently, and with them the memory of this last +irretrievable hour and a just estimate of what she had done. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"Vengeance is mine." + + +The pretence of a headache enabled Juliette to keep in her room the +greater part of the day. She would have liked to shut herself out from +the entire world during those hours which she spent face to face with +her own thoughts and her own sufferings. + +The sight of Anne Mie's pathetic little face as she brought her food and +delicacies and various little comforts, was positive torture to the +poor, harrowed soul. + +At every sound in the great, silent house she started up, quivering with +apprehension and horror. Had the sword of Damocles, which she herself +had suspended, already fallen over the heads of those who had shown her +nothing but kindness? + +She could not think of Madame Deroulede or of Anne Mie without the most +agonising, the most torturing shame. + +And what of him--the man she had so remorselessly, so ruthlessly +betrayed to a tribunal which would know no mercy? + +Juliette dared not think of him. + +She had never tried to analyse her feelings with regard to him. At the +time of Charlotte Corday's trial, when his sonorous voice rang out in +its pathetic appeal for the misguided woman, Juliette had given him +ungrudging admiration. She remembered now how strongly his magnetic +personality had roused in her a feeling of enthusiasm for the poor girl, +who had come from the depths of her quiet provincial home, in order to +accomplish the horrible deed which would immortalise her name through +all the ages to come, and cause her countrymen to proclaim her "greater +than Brutus." + +Deroulede was pleading for the life of that woman, and it was his very +appeal which had aroused Juliette's dormant energy, for the cause which +her dead father had enjoined her not to forget. It was Deroulede again +whom she had seen but a few weeks ago, standing alone before the mob who +would have torn her to pieces, haranguing them on her behalf, speaking +to them with that quiet, strong voice of his, ruling them with the rule +of love and pity, and turning their wrath to gentleness. + +Did she hate him, then? + +Surely, surely she hated him for having thrust himself into her life, +for having caused her brother's death and covered her father's declining +years with sorrow. And, above all, she hated him--indeed, indeed it was +hate!--for being the cause of this most hideous action of her life: an +action to which she had been driven against her will, one of basest +ingratitude and treachery, foreign to every sentiment within her heart, +cowardly, abject, the unconscious outcome of this strange magnetism +which emanated from him and had cast a spell over her, transforming her +individuality and will power, and making of her an unconscious and +automatic instrument of Fate. + +She would not speak of God's finger again: it was Fate--pagan, devilish +Fate!--the weird, shrivelled women who sit and spin their interminable +thread. They had decreed; and Juliette, unable to fight, blind and +broken by the conflict, had succumbed to the Megaeras and their +relentless wheel. + +At length silence and loneliness became unendurable. She called +Petronelle, and ordered her to pack her boxes. + +"We leave for England to-day", she said curtly. + +"For England?" gasped the worthy old soul, who was feeling very happy +and comfortable in this hospitable house, and was loth to leave it. "So +soon?" + +"Why, yes; we had talked of it for some time. We cannot remain here +always. My cousins De Crecy are there, and my aunt De Coudremont. We +shall be among friends, Petronelle, if we ever get there." + +"If we ever get there!" sighed poor Petronelle; "we have but very little +money, _ma cherie,_ and no passports. Have you thought of asking M. +Deroulede for them?" + +"No, no," rejoined Juliette hastily; "I'll see to the passports somehow, +Petronelle. Sir Percy Blakeney is English; he'll tell me what to do." + +"Do you know where he lives, my jewel?" + +"Yes; I heard him tell Madame Deroulede last night that he was lodging +with a provincial named Brogard at the Sign of the Cruche Cassee. I'll +go seek him, Petronelle; I am sure he will help me. The English are so +resourceful and practical. He'll get us our passports, I know, and +advise us as to the best way to proceed. Do you stay here and get all +our things ready. I'll not be long." + +She took up a cloak and hood, and, throwing them over her arm, she +slipped out of the room. + +Deroulede had left the house earlier in the day. She hoped that he had +not yet returned, and ran down the stairs quickly, so that she might go +out unperceived. + +The house was quite peaceful and still. It seemed strange to Juliette +that there did not hang over it some sort of pall-like presentiment of +coming evil. + +From the kitchen, at some little distance from the hall, Anne Mie's +voice was heard singing an old ditty: + +/*[4] + "De ta tige detachee + Pauvre feuille dessechee + Ou vas-tu?" +*/ + +Juliette paused a moment. An awful ache had seized her heart; her eyes +unconsciously filled with tears, as they roamed round the walls of this +house which had sheltered her so hospitably, these three weeks past. + +And now whither was she going? Like the poor, dead leaf of the song, she +was wastrel, torn from the parent bough, homeless, friendless, having +turned against the one hand which, in this great time of peril, had been +extended to her in kindness and in love. + +Conscience was beginning to rise up against her, and that hydra-headed +tyrant Remorse. She closed her eyes to shut out the hideous vision of +her crime; she tried to forget this home which her treachery had +desecrated. + +/*[4] + "Je vais ou va toute chose + Ou va la feuille de rose + Et la feuille de laurier," +*/ + +sang Anne Mie plaintively. + +A great sob broke from Juliette's aching heart. The misery of it all was +more than she could bear. Ah, pity her if you can! She had fought and +striven, and been conquered. A girl's soul is so young, so +impressionable; and she had grown up with that one, awful, all-pervading +idea of duty to accomplish, a most solemn oath to fulfil, one sworn to +her dying father, and on the dead body of her brother. She had begged +for guidance, prayed for release, and the voice from above had remained +silent. Weak, miserable, cringing, the human soul, when torn with +earthly passion, must look at its own strength for the fight. + +And now the end had come. That swift, scarce tangible dream of peace, +which had flitted through her mind during the past few weeks, had +vanished with the dawn, and she was left desolate, alone with her great +sin and its lifelong expiation. + +Scarce knowing what she did, she fell on her knees, there on that +threshold, which she was about to leave for ever. Fate had placed on her +young shoulders a burden too heavy for her to bear. + +"Juliette!" + +At first she did not move. It was his voice coming from the study behind +her. Its magic thrilled her, as it had done that day in the Hall of +Justice. Strong, passionate, tender, it seemed now to raise every echo +of response in her heart. She thought it was a dream, and remained there +on her knees lest it should be dispelled. + +Then she heard his footsteps on the flagstones of the hall. Anne Mie's +plaintive singing had died away in the distance. She started, and jumped +to her feet, hastily drying her eyes. The momentary dream was dispelled, +and she was ashamed of her weakness. + +He, the cause of all her sorrows, of her sin, and of her degradation, +had no right to see her suffer. + +She would have fled out of the house now, but it was too late. He had +come out of his study, and, seeing her there on her knees weeping, he +came quickly forward, trying, with all the innate chivalry of his +upright nature, not to let her see that he had been a witness to her +tears. + +"You are going out, mademoiselle?" he said courteously, as, wrapping her +cloak around her, she was turning towards the door. + +"Yes, yes," she replied hastily; "a small errand, I ..." + +"Is it anything I can do for you?" + +"No." + +"If ..." he added, with visible embarrassment, "if your errand would +brook a delay, might I crave the honour of your presence in my study for +a few moments?" + +"My errand brooks of no delay, Citizen Deroulede," she said as +composedly as she could, "and perhaps on my return I might ..." + +"I am leaving almost directly, mademoiselle, and I would wish to bid you +good-bye." + +He stood aside to allow her to pass, either out, through the street door +or across the hall to his study. + +There had been no reproach in his voice towards the guest, who was thus +leaving him without a word of farewell. Perhaps if there had been any, +Juliette would have rebelled. As it was, an unconquerable magnetism +seemed to draw her towards him, and, making an almost imperceptible sign +of acquiescence, she glided past him into his room. + +The study was dark and cool; for the room faced the west, and the +shutters had been closed, in order to keep out the hot August sun. At +first Juliette could see nothing, but she felt his presence near her, as +he followed her into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. + +"It is kind of you, mademoiselle," he said gently, "to accede to my +request, which was perhaps presumptuous. But, you see, I am leaving this +house to-day, and I had a selfish longing to hear your voice bidding me +farewell." + +Juliette's large, burning eyes were gradually piercing the semi-gloom +around her. She could see him distinctly now, standing close beside her, +in an attitude of the deepest, almost reverential respect. + +The study was as usual neat and tidy, denoting the orderly habits of a +man of action and energy. On the ground there was a valise, ready +strapped as if for a journey, and on the top of it a bulky letter-case +of stout pigskin, secured with a small steel lock. Juliette's eyes +fastened upon this case with a look of fascination and of horror. +Obviously it contained Deroulede's papers, the plans for Marie +Antoinette's escape, the passports of which he had spoken the day before +to his friend, Sir Percy Blakeney--the proofs, in fact, which she had +offered to the representatives of the people, in support of her +denunciation of the Citizen-Deputy. + +After his request he had said nothing more. He was waiting for her to +speak; but her voice felt parched; it seemed to her as if hands of steel +were gripping her throat, smothering the words she would have longed to +speak. + +"Will you not wish me godspeed, mademoiselle?" he repeated gently. + +"Godspeed?" Oh! the awful irony of it all! Should God speed him to a +mock trial and to the guillotine? He was going thither, though he did +not know it, and was even now trying to take the hand which had +deliberately sent him there. + +At last she made an effort to speak, and in a toneless, even voice she +contrived to murmur: + +"You are not going for long, Citizen-Deputy?" + +"In these times, mademoiselle," he replied, "any farewell might be for +ever. But I am actually going for a month to the Conciergerie, to take +charge of the unfortunate prisoner there." + +"For a month!" she repeated mechanically. + +"Oh yes!" he said, with a smile. "You see, our present Government is +afraid that poor Marie Antoinette will exercise her fascinations over +any lieutenant-governor of her prison, if he remain near her long +enough, so a new one is appointed every month. I shall be in charge +during this coming Vendemiaire. I shall hope to return before the +equinox, but--who can tell?" + +"In any case then, Citoyen Deroulede, the farewell I bid you to-night +will be a very long one." + +"A month will seem a century to me," he said earnestly, "since I must +spend it without seeing you, but ..." + +He looked long and searchingly at her. He did not understand her in her +present mood, so scared and wild did she seem, so unlike that girlish, +light-hearted self, which had made the dull old house so bright these +past few weeks. + +"But I should not dare to hope," he murmured, "that a similar reason +would cause you to call that month a long one." + +She turned perhaps a trifle paler than she had been hitherto, and her +eyes roamed round the room like those of a trapped hare seeking to +escape. + +"You misunderstand me, Citoyen Deroulede," she said at last hurriedly. +"You have all been kind--very kind--but Petronelle and I can no longer +trespass on your hospitality. We have friends in England, and many +enemies here ..." + +"I know," he interrupted quietly; "it would be the most arrant +selfishness on my part to suggest, that you should stay here an hour +longer than necessary. I fear that after to-day my roof may no longer +prove a sheltering one for you. But will you allow me to arrange for +your safety, as I am arranging for that of my mother and Anne Mie? My +English friend Sir Percy Blakeney, has a yacht in readiness off the +Normandy coast. I have already seen to your passports and to all the +arrangements of your journey as far as there, and Sir Percy, or one of +his friends, will see you safely on board the English yacht. He has +given me his promise that he will do this, and I trust him as I would +myself. For the journey through France, my name is a sufficient +guarantee that you will be unmolested; and if you will allow it, my +mother and Anne Mie will travel in your company. Then ..." + +"I pray you stop, Citizen Deroulede," she suddenly interrupted +excitedly. "You must forgive me, but I cannot allow thus to make any +arrangements for me. Petronelle and I must do as best we can. All your +time and trouble should be spent for the benefit of those who have a +claim upon you, whilst I ..." + +"You speak unkindly, mademoiselle; there is no question of claim." + +"And you have no right to think ..." she continued, with a growing, +nervous excitement, drawing her hand hurriedly away, for he had tried to +seize it. + +"Ah! pardon me," he interrupted earnestly, "there you are wrong. I have +the right to think of you and for you--the inalienable right conferred +upon me by my great love for you." + +"Citizen-Deputy!" + +"Nay, Juliette; I know my folly, and I know my presumption. I know the +pride of your caste and of your party, and how much you despise the +partisan of the squalid mob of France. Have I said that I aspired to +gain your love? I wonder if I have ever dreamed it? I only know, +Juliette, that you are to me something akin to the angels, something +white and ethereal, intangible, and perhaps ununderstandable. Yet, +knowing my folly, I glory in it, my dear, and I would not let you go out +of my life without telling you of that, which has made every hour of the +past few weeks a paradise for me--my love for you, Juliette." + +He spoke in that low, impressive voice of his, and with those soft, +appealing tones with which she had once heard him pleading for poor +Charlotte Corday. Yet now he was not pleading for himself, not for his +selfish wish or for his own happiness, only pleading for his love, that +she should know of it, and, knowing it, have pity in her heart for him, +and let him serve her to the end. + +He did not say anything more for a while; he had taken her hand, which +she no longer withdrew from him, for there was sweet pleasure in feeling +his strong fingers close tremblingly over hers. He pressed his lips upon +her hand, upon the soft palm and delicate wrist, his burning kisses +bearing witness to the tumultuous passion, which his reverence for her +was holding in check. + +She tried to tear herself away from him, but he would not let her go: + +"Do not go away just yet, Juliette," he pleaded. "Think! I may never see +you again; but when you are far from me--in England, perhaps--amongst +your own kith and kin, will you try sometimes to think kindly of one who +so wildly, so madly worships you?" + +She would have stilled, an she could, the beating of her heart, which +went out to him at last with all the passionate intensity of her great, +pent-up love. Every word he spoke had its echo within her very soul, and +she tried not to hear his tender appeal, not to see his dark head +bending in worship before her. She tried to forget his presence, not to +know that he was there--he, the man whom she had betrayed to serve her +own miserable vengeance, whom in her mad, exalted rage she had thought +that she hated, but whom she now knew that she loved better than her +life, better than her soul, her traditions, or her oath. + +Now, at this moment, she made every effort to conjure up the vision of +her brother brought home dead upon a stretcher, of her father's +declining years, rendered hideous by the mind unhinged through the great +sorrow. + +She tried to think of the avenging finger of God pointing the way to the +fulfilment of her oath, and called to Him to stand by her in this +terrible agony of her soul. + +And God spoke to her at last; through the eternal vistas of boundless +universe, from that heaven which had known no pity, His voice came to +her now, clear, awesome, and implacable: + +"Vengeance is mine! I will repay!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +The sword of Damocles. + + +"In the name of the Republic!" + +Absorbed in his thoughts, his dreams, his present happiness, Deroulede +had heard nothing of what was going on in the house, during the past few +seconds. + +At first, to Anne Mie, who was still singing her melancholy ditty over +her work in the kitchen, there had seemed nothing unusual in the +peremptory ring at the front-door bell. She pulled down her sleeves over +her thin arms, smoothed down her cooking apron, then only did she run to +see who the visitor might be. + +As soon as she had opened the door, however, she understood. + +Five men were standing before her, four of whom wore the uniform of the +National Guard, and the fifth, the tricolour scarf fringed with gold, +which denoted service under the Convention. + +This man seemed to be in command of the others, and he immediately +stepped into the hall, followed by his four companions, who at a sign +from him, effectively cut off Anne Mie from what had been her imminent +purpose--namely, to run to the study and warn Deroulede of his danger. + +That it was danger of the most certain, the most deadly kind she never +doubted for one moment. Even had her instinct not warned her, she would +have guessed. One glance at the five men had sufficed to tell her: their +attitude, their curt word of command, their air of authority as they +crossed the hall--everything revealed the purpose of their visit: a +domiciliary search in the house of Citizen-Deputy Deroulede. + +Merlin's Law of the Suspect was in full operation. Someone had denounced +the Citizen-Deputy to the Committee of Public Safety; and in this year +of grace, 1793, and I. of the Revolution, men and women were daily sent +to the guillotine on suspicion. + +Anne Mie would have screamed, had she dared, but instinct such as hers +was far too keen, to betray her into so injudicious an act. She felt +that, were Paul Deroulede's eyes upon her at this moment, he would wish +her to remain calm and outwardly serene. + +The foremost man--he with the tricolour scarf--had already crossed the +hall, and was standing outside the study door. It was his word of +command which first roused Deroulede from his dream: + +"In the name of the Republic!" + +Deroulede did not immediately drop the small hand, which a moment ago he +had been covering with kisses. He held it to his lips once more, very +gently, lingering over this last fond caress, as if over an eternal +farewell, then he straightened out his broad, well-knit figure, and +turned to the door. + +He was very pale, but there was neither fear nor even surprise expressed +in his earnest, deep-set eyes. They still seemed to be looking afar, +gazing upon a heaven-born vision, which the touch of her hand and the +avowal of his love had conjured up before him. + +"In the name of the Republic!" + +Once more, for the third time--according to custom--the words rang out, +clear, distinct, peremptory. + +In that one fraction of a second, whilst those six words were spoken, +Deroulede's eyes wandered swiftly towards the heavy letter-case, which +now held his condemnation, and a wild, mad thought--the mere animal +desire to escape from danger--surged up in his brain. + +The plans for the escape of Marie Antoinette, the various passports, +worded in accordance with the possible disguises the unfortunate Queen +might assume--all these papers were more than sufficient proof of what +would be termed his treason against the Republic. + +He could already hear the indictment against him, could see the filthy +mob of Paris dancing a wild saraband round the tumbril, which bore him +towards the guillotine; he could hear their yells of execration, could +feel the insults hurled against him, by those who had most admired, most +envied him. And from all this he would have escaped if he could, if it +had not been too late. + +It was but a second, or less, whilst the words were spoken outside his +door, and whilst all other thoughts in him were absorbed in this one mad +desire for escape. He even made a movement, as if to snatch up the +letter-case and to hide it about his person. But it was heavy and bulky; +it would be sure to attract attention, and might bring upon him the +additional indignity of being forced to submit to a personal search. + +He caught Juliette's eyes fixed upon him with an intensity of gaze +which, in that same one mad moment, revealed to him the depths of her +love. Then the second's weakness was gone; he was once more quiet, firm, +the man of action, accustomed to meet danger boldly, to rule and to +subdue the most turgid mob. + +With a quiet shrug of the shoulders, he dismissed all thought of the +compromising lettercase, and went to the door. + +Already, as no reply had come to the third word of command, it had been +thrown open from outside, and Deroulede found himself face to face with +the five men. + +"Citizen Merlin!" he said quietly, as he recognised the foremost among +them. + +"Himself, Citizen-Deputy," rejoined the latter, with a sneer, "at your +service." + +Anne Mie, in a remote corner of the hall, had heard the name, and felt +her very soul sicken at its sound. + +Merlin! Author of that infamous Law of the Suspect which had set man +against man, a father against his son, brother against brother, and +friend against friend, had made of every human creature a bloodhound on +the track of his fellowmen, dogging in order not to be dogged, +denouncing, spying, hounding, in order not to be denounced. + +And he, Merlin, gloried in this, the most fiendishly evil law ever +perpetrated for the degradation of the human race. + +There is that sketch of him in the Musee Carnavalet, drawn just before +he, in his turn, went to expiate his crimes on that very guillotine, +which he had sharpened and wielded so powerfully against his fellows. +The artist has well caught the slouchy, slovenly look of his loosely +knit figure, his long limbs and narrow head, with the snakelike eyes and +slightly receding chin. Like Marat, his model and prototype, Merlin +affected dirty, ragged clothes. The real Sanscullottism, the downward +levelling of his fellowmen to the lowest rung of the social ladder, +pervaded every action of this noted product of the great Revolution. + +Even Deroulede, whose entire soul was filled with a great, +all-understanding pity for the weaknesses of mankind, recoiled at sight +of this incarnation of the spirit of squalor and degradation, of all +that was left of the noble Utopian theories of the makers of the +Revolution. + +Merlin grinned when he saw Deroulede standing there, calm, impassive, +well dressed, as if prepared to receive an honoured guest, rather than a +summons to submit to the greatest indignity a proud man has ever been +called upon to suffer. + +Merlin had always hated the popular Citizen-Deputy. Friend and +boon-companion of Marat and his gang, he had for over two years now +exerted all the influence he possessed in order to bring Deroulede under +a cloud of suspicion. + +But Deroulede had the ear of the populace. No one understood as he did +the tone of a Paris mob; and the National Convention, ever terrified of +the volcano it had kindled, felt that a popular member of its assembly +was more useful alive than dead. + +But now at last Merlin was having his way. An anonymous denunciation +against Deroulede had reached the Public Prosecutor that day. Tinville +and Merlin were the fastest of friends, so the latter easily obtained +the privilege of being the first to proclaim to his hated enemy, the +news of his downfall. + +He stood facing Deroulede for a moment, enjoying the present situation +to its full. The light from the vast hall struck full upon the powerful +figure of the Citizen-Deputy and upon his firm, dark face and magnetic, +restless eyes. Behind him the study, with its closely-drawn shutters, +appeared wrapped in gloom. + +Merlin turned to his men, and, still delighted with his position of a +cat playing with a mouse, he pointed to Deroulede, with a smile and a +shrug of the shoulders. + +"_Voyez-moi donc ca,_" he said, with a coarse jest, and expectorating +contemptuously upon the floor, "the aristocrat seems not to understand +that we are here in the name of the Republic. There is a very good +proverb, Citizen-Deputy," he added, once more addressing Deroulede, +"which you seem to have forgotten, and that is that the pitcher which +goes too often to the well breaks at last. You have conspired against +the liberties of the people for the past ten years. Retribution has come +to you at last; the people of France have come to their senses. The +National Convention wants to know what treason you are hatching between +these four walls, and it has deputed me to find out all there is to +know." + +"At your service, Citizen-Deputy!" said Deroulede, quietly stepping +aside, in order to make way for Merlin and his men. + +Resistance was useless, and, like all strong, determined natures, he +knew when it was best to give in. + +During this while, Juliette had neither moved nor uttered a sound. +Little more than a minute had elapsed since the moment when the first +peremptory order, to open in the name of the Republic, had sounded like +the tocsin through the stillness of the house. Deroulede's kisses were +still hot upon her hand, his words of love were still ringing in her +ears. + +And now this awful, deadly peril, which she with her own hand had +brought on the man she loved! + +If in one moment's anguish the soul be allowed to expiate a lifelong +sin, then indeed did Juliette atone during this one terrible second. + +Her conscience, her heart, her entire being rose in revolt against her +crime. Her oath, her life, her final denunciation appeared before her in +all their hideousness. + +And now it was too late. + +Deroulede stood facing Merlin, his most implacable enemy. The latter was +giving orders to his men, preparatory to searching the house, and there, +just on the top of the valise, lay the letter-case, obviously containing +those papers, to which the day before she had overheard Deroulede making +allusion, whilst he spoke to his friend, Sir Percy Blakeney. + +An unexplainable instinct seemed to tell her that the papers were in +that case. Her eyes were riveted on it, as if fascinated. An awful +terror held her enthralled for one second more, whilst her thoughts, her +longings, her desires were all centred on the safety of that one thing. + +The next instant she had seized it and thrown it upon the sofa. Then +seating herself beside it, with the gesture of a queen and the grace of +a Parisienne, she had spread the ample folds of her skirts over the +compromising case, hiding it entirely from view. + +Merlin in the hall was ordering two men to stand one on each side of +Deroulede, and two more to follow him into the room. Now he entered it +himself, his narrow eyes trying to pierce the semi-obscurity, which was +rendered more palpable by the brilliant light in the hall. + +He had not seen Juliette's gesture, but he had heard the _frou-frou_ of +her skirts, as she seated herself upon the sofa. + +"You are not alone Citizen-Deputy, I see," he said, with a sneer, as his +snakelike eyes lighted upon the young girl. + +"My guest, Citizen Merlin," replied Deroulede as calmly as he +could--"Citizen Juliette Marny. I know that it is useless, under these +circumstances, to ask for consideration for a woman, but I pray you to +remember, as far as is possible, that although we are all Republicans, +we are also Frenchmen, and all still equal in our sentiment of chivalry +towards our mothers, our sisters, or our guests." + +Merlin chuckled, and gazed for a moment ironically at Juliette. He had +held, between his talon-like fingers, that very morning, a thin scrap of +paper, on which a schoolgirlish hand had scrawled the denunciation +against Citizen-Deputy Deroulede. + +Coarse in nature, and still coarser in thoughts, this representative of +the people had very quickly arrived at a conclusion in his mind, with +regard to this so-called guest in the Deroulede household. + +"A discarded mistress," he muttered to himself. "Just had another scene, +I suppose. He's got tired of her, and she's given him away out of +spite." + +Satisfied with this explanation of the situation, he was quite inclined +to be amiable to Juliette. Moreover, he had caught sight of the valise, +and almost thought that the young girl's eyes had directed his attention +towards it. + +"Open those shutters!" he commanded, "this place is like a vault." + +One of the men obeyed immediately, and as the brilliant August sun came +streaming into the room, Merlin once more turned to Deroulede. + +"Information has been laid against you, Citizen-Deputy," he said, "by an +anonymous writer, who states that you have just now in your possession +correspondence or other papers intended for the Widow Capet: and the +Committee of Public Safety has entrusted me and these citizens to seize +such correspondence, and make you answerable for its presence in your +house." + +Deroulede hesitated for one brief fraction of a second. As soon as the +shutters had been opened, and the room flooded in daylight, he had at +once perceived that his letter-case had disappeared, and guessed, from +Juliette's attitude upon the sofa, that she had concealed it about her +person. It was this which caused him to hesitate. + +His heart was filled with boundless gratitude to her for her noble +effort to save him, but he would have given his life at this moment, to +undo what she had done. + +The Terrorists were no respecters of persons or of sex. A domicillary +search order, in those days, conferred full powers on those in +authority, and Juliette might at any moment now be peremptorily ordered +to rise. Through her action she had made herself one with the +Citizen-Deputy; if the case were found under the folds of her skirts, +she would be accused of connivance, or at any rate of the equally grave +charge of shielding a traitor. + +The manly pride in him rebelled at the thought of owing his immediate +safety to a woman, yet he could not now discard her help, without +compromising her irretrievably. + +He dared not even to look again towards her, for he felt that at this +moment her life as well as his own lay in the quiver of an eyelid; and +Merlin's keen, narrow eyes were fixed upon him in eager search for a +tremor, a flash, which might betray fear or prove an admission of guilt. + +Juliette sat there, calm, impassive, disdainful, and she seemed to +Deroulede more angelic, more unattainable even than before. He could +have worshipped her for her heroism, her resourcefulness, her quiet +aloofness from all these coarse creatures who filled the room with the +odour of their dirty clothes, with their rough jests, and their noisome +suggestions. + +"Well, Citizen-Deputy," sneered Merlin after a while, "you do not reply, +I notice." + +"The insinuation is unworthy of a reply, citizen," replied Deroulede +quietly; "my services to the Republic are well known. I should have +thought that the Committee of Public Safety would disdain an anonymous +denunciation against a faithful servant of the people of France." + +"The Committee of Public Safety knows its own business best, +Citizen-Deputy," rejoined Merlin roughly. "If the accusation prove a +calumny, so much the better for you. I presume," he added with a sneer, +"that you do not propose to offer any resistance whilst these citizens +and I search your house." + +Without another word Deroulede handed a bunch of keys to the man by his +side. Every kind of opposition, argument even, would be worse than +useless. + +Merlin had ordered the valise and desk to be searched, and two men were +busy turning out the contents of both on to the floor. But the desk now +only contained a few private household accounts, and notes for the +various speeches which Deroulede had at various times delivered in the +assemblies of the National Convention. Among these, a few pencil +jottings for his great defence of Charlotte Corday were eagerly seized +upon by Merlin, and his grimy, clawlike hands fastened upon this scrap +of paper, as upon a welcome prey. + +But there was nothing else of any importance. Deroulede was a man of +thought and of action, with all the enthusiasm of real conviction, but +none of the carelessness of a fanatic. The papers which were contained +in the letter-case, and which he was taking with him to the +Conciergerie, he considered were necessary to the success of his plans, +otherwise he never would have kept them, and they were the only proofs +that could be brought up against him. + +The valise itself was only packed with the few necessaries for a month's +sojourn at the Conciergerie; and the men, under Merlin's guidance, were +vainly trying to find something, anything that might be construed into +treasonable correspondence with the unfortunate prisoner there. + +Merlin, whilst his men were busy with the search, was sprawling in one +of the big leather-covered chairs, on the arms of which his dirty +finger-nails were beating an impatient devil's tattoo. He was at no +pains to conceal the intense disappointment which he would experience, +were his errand to prove fruitless. + +His narrow eyes every now and then wandered towards Juliette, as if +asking for her help and guidance. She, understanding his frame of mind, +responded to the look. Shutting her mentality off from the coarse +suggestion of his attitude towards her, she played her part with +cunning, and without flinching. With a glance here and there, she +directed the men in their search. Deroulede himself could scarcely +refrain from looking at her; he was puzzled, and vaguely marvelled at +the perfection, with which she carried through her role to the end. + +Merlin found himself baffled. + +He knew quite well that Citizen-Deputy Deroulede was not a man to be +lightly dealt with. No mere suspicion or anonymous denunciation would be +sufficient in his case, to bring him before the tribunal of the +Revolution. Unless there were proofs--positive, irrefutable, damnable +proofs--of Paul Deroulede's treachery, the Public Prosecutor would never +dare to frame an indictment against him. The mob of Paris would rise to +defend its idol; the hideous hags, who plied their knitting at the foot +of the scaffold, would tear the guillotine down, before they would allow +Deroulede to mount it. + +This was Deroulede's stronghold: the people of Paris, whom he had loved +through all their infamies, and whom he had succoured and helped in +their private need; and above all the women of Paris, whose children he +had caused to be tended in the hospitals which he had built for +them--this they had not yet forgotten, and Merlin knew it. One day they +would forget--soon, perhaps--then they would turn on their former idol, +and, howling, send him to his death, amidst cries of rancour and +execration. When that day came there would be no need to worry about +treason or about proofs. When the populace had forgotten all that he had +done, then Deroulede would fall. + +But that time was not yet. + +The men had finished ransacking the room; every scrap of paper, every +portable article had been eagerly seized upon. + +Merlin, half blind with fury, had jumped to his feet. + +"Search him!" he ordered peremptorily. + +Deroulede set his teeth, and made no protest, calling up every fibre of +moral strength within him, to aid him in submitting to this indignity. +At a coarse jest from Merlin, he buried his nails into the palms of his +hand, not to strike the foulmouthed creature in the face. But he +submitted, and stood impassive by, whilst the pockets of his coat were +turned inside out by the rough hands of the soldiers. + +All the while Juliette had remained silent, watching Merlin as any hawk +would its prey. But the Terrorist, through the very coarseness of his +nature, was in this case completely fooled. + +He knew that it was Juliette who had denounced Deroulede, and had +satisfied himself as to her motive. Because he was low and brutish and +degraded, he never once suspected the truth, never saw in that beautiful +young woman, anything of the double nature within her, of that curious, +self-torturing, at times morbid sense of religion and of duty, at war +with her own upright, innately healthy disposition. + +The low-born, self-degraded Terrorist had put his own construction on +Juliette's action, and with this he was satisfied, since it answered to +his own estimate of the human race, the race which he was doing his best +to bring down to the level of the beast. + +Therefore Merlin did not interfere with Juliette, but contented himself +with insinuating, by jest and action, what her share in this day's work +had been. To these hints Deroulede, of course, paid no heed. For him +Juliette was as far above political intrigue as the angels. He would as +soon have suspected one of the saints enshrined in Notre Dame as this +beautiful, almost ethereal creature, who had been sent by Heaven to +gladden his heart and to elevate his very thought. + +But Juliette understood Merlin's attitude, and guessed that her written +denunciation had come into his hands. Her every thought, every living +sensation within her, was centred in this one thing: to save the man she +loved from the consequences of her own crime against him. And for this, +even the shadow of suspicion must be removed from him. Merlin's +iniquitous law should not touch him again. + +When Deroulede at last had been released, after the outrage to which he +had been personally subjected, Merlin was literally, and figuratively +too, looking about him for an issue to his present dubious position. + +Judging others by his own standard of conduct, he feared now that the +popular Citizen-Deputy would incite the mob against him, in revenge for +the indignities which he had had to suffer. And with it all the +Terrorist was convinced that Deroulede was guilty, that proofs of his +treason did exist, if only he knew where to lay hands on them. + +He turned to Juliette with an unexpressed query in his adder-like eyes. +She shrugged her shoulders, and made a gesture as if pointing towards +the door. + +"There are other rooms in the house besides this," her gesture seemed to +say; "try them. The proofs are there, 'tis for you to find them." + +Merlin had been standing between her and Deroulede, so that the latter +saw neither query nor reply. + +"You are cunning, Citizen-Deputy," said Merlin now, turning towards him, +"and no doubt you have been at pains to put your treasonable +correspondence out of the way. You must understand that the Committee of +Public Safety will not be satisfied with a mere examination of your +study," he added, assuming an air of ironical benevolence, "and I +presume you will have no objection, if I and these citizen soldiers pay +a visit to other portions of your house." + +"As you please," responded Deroulede drily. + +"You will accompany us, Citizen-Deputy," commanded the other curtly. + +The four men of the National Guard formed themselves into line outside +the study door; with a peremptory nod, Merlin ordered Deroulede to pass +between them, then he too prepared to follow. At the door he turned, and +once more faced Juliette. + +"As for you, citizeness," he said, with a sudden access of viciousness +against her, "if you have brought us here on a fool's errand, it will go +ill with you, remember. Do not leave the house until our return. I may +have some questions to put to you." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Tangled meshes. + + +Juliette waited a moment or two, until the footsteps of the six men died +away up the massive oak stairs. + +For the first time, since the sword of Damocles had fallen, she was +alone with her thoughts. + +She had but a few moments at her command in which to devise an issue out +of these tangled meshes, which she had woven round the man she loved. + +Merlin and his men would return anon. The comedy could not be kept up +through another visit from them, and while the compromising letter-case +remained in Deroulede's private study he was in imminent danger at the +hands of his enemy. + +She thought for a moment of concealing the case about her person, but a +second's reflection showed her the futility of such a move. She had not +seen the papers themselves; any one of them might be an absolute proof +of Deroulede's guilt; the correspondence might be in his handwriting. + +If Merlin, furious, baffled, vicious, were to order her to be searched! +The horror of the indignity made her shudder, but she would have +submitted to that, if thereby she could have saved Deroulede. But of +this she could not be sure until after she had looked through the +papers, and this she had not the time to do. + +Her first and greatest idea was to get out of this room, his private +study, with the compromising papers. Not a trace of them must be found +here, if he were to remain beyond suspicion. + +She rose from the sofa, and peeped through the door. The hall was now +deserted; from the left wing of the house, on the floor above, the heavy +footsteps of the soldiers and Merlin's occasional brutish laugh could be +distinctly heard. + +Juliette listened for a moment, trying to understand what was happening. +Yes; they had all gone to Deroulede's bedroom, which was on the extreme +left, at the end of the first-floor landing. There might be just time to +accomplish what she had now resolved to do. + +As best she could, she hid the bulky leather case in the folds of her +skirt. It was literally neck or nothing now. If she were caught on the +stairs by one of the men nothing could save her or--possibly--Deroulede. + +At any rate, by remaining where she was, by leaving the events to shape +themselves, discovery was absolutely certain. She chose to take the +risk. + +She slipped noiselessly out of the room and up the great oak stairs. +Merlin and his men, busy with their search in Deroulede's bedroom, took +no heed of what was going on behind them; Juliette arrived on the +landing, and turned sharply to her right, running noiselessly along the +thick Aubusson carpet, and thence quickly to her own room. + +All this had taken less than a minute to accomplish. The very next +moment she heard Merlin's voice ordering one of his men to stand at +attention on the landing, but by that time she was safe inside her room. +She closed the door noiselessly. + +Petronelle, who had been busy all the afternoon packing up her young +mistress' things, had fallen asleep in an arm-chair. Unconscious of the +terrible events which were rapidly succeeding each other in the house, +the worthy old soul was snoring peaceably, with her hands complacently +folded on her ample bosom. + +Juliette, for the moment, took no notice of her. As quickly and as +dexterously as she could, she was tearing open the heavy leather case +with a sharp pair of scissors, and very soon its contents were scattered +before her on the table. + +One glance at them was sufficient to convince her that most of the +papers would undoubtedly, if found, send Deroulede to the guillotine. +Most of the correspondence was in the Citizen-Deputy's handwriting. She +had, of course, no time to examine it more closely, but instinct +naturally told her that it was of a highly compromising character. + +She gathered the papers up into a heap, tearing some of them up into +strips; then she spread them out upon the ash-pan in front of the large +earthenware stove, which stood in a corner of the room. + +Unfortunately, this was a hot day in August. Her task would have been +far easier if she had wished to destroy a bundle of papers in the depth +of winter, when there was a good fire burning in the stove. + +But her purpose was firm and her incentive, the greatest that has ever +spurred mankind to heroism. + +Regardless of any consequences to herself, she had but the one object in +view, to save Deroulede at all costs. + +On the wall facing her bed, and immediately above a velvet-covered +prie-dieu, there was a small figure of the Virgin and Child--one of +those quaintly pretty devices for holding holy water, which the reverent +superstition of the past century rendered a necessary adjunct of every +girl's room. + +In front of the figure a small lamp was kept perpetually burning. This +Juliette now took between her fingers, carefully, lest the tiny flame +should die out. First she poured the oil over the fragments of paper in +the ash-pan, then with the wick she set fire to the whole compromising +correspondence. + +The oil helped the paper to burn quickly; the smell, or perhaps the +presence of Juliette in the room caused worthy old Petronelle to wake. + +"It's nothing, Petronelle," said Juliette quietly; "only a few old +letters I am burning. But I want to be alone for a few moments--will you +go down to the kitchen until I call you?" + +Accustomed to do as her young mistress commanded, Petronelle rose +without a word. + +"I have finished putting away your few things, my jewel. There, there! +why didn't you tell me to burn your papers for you? You have soiled your +dear hands, and ..." + +"Sh! Sh! Petronelle!" said Juliette impatiently, and gently pushing the +garrulous old woman towards the door. "Run to the kitchen now quickly, +and don't come out of it until I call you. And, Petronelle," she added, +"you will see soldiers about the house perhaps." + +"Soldiers! The good God have mercy!" + +"Don't be frightened, Petronelle. But they may ask you questions." + +"Questions?" + +"Yes; about me." + +"My treasure, my jewel," exclaimed Petronelle in alarm, "have those +devils ...?" + +"No, no; nothing has happened as yet, but, you know, in these times +there is always danger." + +"Good God! Holy Mary! Mother of God!" + +"Nothing 'll happen if you try to keep quite calm and do exactly as I +tell you. Go to the kitchen, and wait there until I call you. If the +soldiers come in and question you, if they try to frighten you, remember +that we have nothing to fear from men, and that our lives are in God's +keeping." + +All the while that Juliette spoke, she was watching the heap of paper +being gradually reduced to ashes. She tried to fan the flames as best +she could, but some of the correspondence was on tough paper, and was +slow in being consumed. Petronelle, tearful but obedient, prepared to +leave the room. She was overawed by her mistress' air of aloofness, the +pale face rendered ethereally beautiful by the sufferings she had gone +through. The eyes glowed large and magnetic, as if in presence of +spiritual visions beyond mortal ken; the golden hair looked like a +saintly halo above the white, immaculate young brow. + +Petronelle made the sign of the cross, as if she were in the presence of +a saint. + +As she opened the door there was a sudden draught, and the last +flickering flame died out in the ash-pan. Juliette, seeing that +Petronelle had gone, hastily turned over the few half burnt fragments of +paper that were left. In none of them had the writing remained legible. +All that was compromising to Deroulede was effectually reduced to dust. +The small wick in the lamp at the foot of the Virgin and Child had +burned itself out for want of oil; there was no means for Juliette to +strike another light and to destroy what remained. The leather case was, +of course, still there, with its sides ripped open, an indestructible +thing. + +There was nothing to be done about that. Juliette after a second's +hesitation threw it among her dresses in the valise. + +Then she too went out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A happy moment. + + +The search in the Citizen-Deputy's bedroom had proved as fruitless as +that in his study. Merlin was beginning to have vague doubts as to +whether he had been effectively fooled. + +His manner towards Deroulede had undergone a change. He had become suave +and unctuous, a kind of elephantine irony pervading his laborious +attempts at conciliation. He and the Public Prosecutor would be severely +blamed for this day's work, if the popular Deputy, relying upon the +support of the people of Paris, chose to take his revenge. + +In France, in this glorious year of the Revolution, there was but one +step between censure and indictment. And Merlin knew it. Therefore, +although he had not given up all hope of finding proofs of Deroulede's +treason, although by the latter's attitude he remained quite convinced +that such proof did exist, he was already reckoning upon the cat's paw, +the sop he would offer to that Cerberus, the Committee of Public Safety, +in exchange for his own exculpation in the matter. + +This sop would be Juliette, the denunciator instead of Deroulede the +denounced. + +But he was still seeking for the proofs. + +Somewhat changing his tactics, he had allowed Deroulede to join his +mother in the living-room, and had betaken himself to the kitchen in +search of Anne Mie, whom he had previously caught sight of in the hall. +There he also found old Petronelle, whom he could scare out of her wits +to his heart's content, but from whom he was quite unable to extract any +useful information. Petronelle was too stupid to be dangerous, and Anne +Mie was too much on the alert. + +But, with a vague idea that a cunning man might choose the most unlikely +places for the concealment of compromising property, he was ransacking +the kitchen from floor to ceiling. + +In the living-room Deroulede was doing his best to reassure his mother, +who, in her turn, was forcing herself to be brave, and not to show by +her tears how deeply she feared for the safety of her son. As soon as +Deroulede had been freed from the presence of the soldiers, he had +hastened back to his study, only to find that Juliette had gone, and +that the letter-case had also disappeared. Not knowing what to think, +trembling for the safety of the woman he adored, he was just debating +whether he would seek for her in her own room, when she came towards him +across the landing. + +There seemed a halo around her now. Deroulede felt that she had never +been so beautiful and to him so unattainable. Something told him then, +that at this moment she was as far away from him, as if she were an +inhabitant of another, more ethereal planet. + +When she saw him coming towards her, she put a finger to her lips, and +whispered: + +"Sh! sh! the papers are destroyed, burned." + +"And I owe my safety to you!" + +He had said it with his whole soul, an infinity of gratitude filled his +heart, a joy and pride in that she had cared for his safety. + +But at his words she had grown paler than she was before. Her eyes, +large, dilated, and dark, were fixed upon him with an intensity of gaze +which almost startled him. He thought that she was about to faint, that +the emotions of the past half hour had been too much for her overstrung +nerves. He took her hand, and gently dragged her into the living-room. + +She sank into a chair, as if utterly weary and exhausted, and he, +forgetting his danger, forgetting the world and all else besides, knelt +at her feet, and held her hands in his. + +She sat bolt upright, her great eyes still fixed upon him. At first it +seemed as if he could not be satiated with looking at her; he felt as if +he had never, never really seen her. She had been a dream of beauty to +him ever since that awful afternoon when he had held her, half fainting, +in his arms, and had dragged her under the shelter of his roof. + +From that hour he had worshipped her: she had cast over him the magic +spell of her refinement, her beauty, that aroma of youth and innocence +which makes such a strong appeal to the man of sentiment. + +He had worshipped her and not tried to understand. He would have deemed +it almost sacrilege to pry into the mysteries of her inner self, of that +second nature in her which at times made her silent, and almost morose, +and cast a lurid gloom over her young beauty. + +And though his love for her had grown in intensity, it had remained as +heaven born as he deemed her to be--the love of a mortal for a saint, +the ecstatic adoration of a St Francis for his Madonna. + +Sir Percy Blakeney had called Deroulede an idealist. He was that, in the +strictest sense, and Juliette had embodied all that was best in his +idealism. + +It was for the first time to-day, that he had held her hand just for a +moment longer than mere conventionality allowed. The first kiss on her +finger-tips had sent the blood rushing wildly to his heart; but he still +worshipped her, and gazed upon her as upon a divinity. + +She sat bolt upright in the chair, abandoning her small, cold hands to +his burning grasp. + +His very senses ached with the longing to clasp her in his arms, to draw +her to him, and to feel her pulses beat closer against his. It was +almost torture now to gaze upon her beauty--that small, oval face, +almost like a child's, the large eyes which at times had seemed to be +blue but which now appeared to be a deep, unfathomable colour, like the +tempestuous sea. + +"Juliette!" he murmured at last, as his soul went out to her in a +passionate appeal for the first kiss. + +A shudder seemed to go through her entire frame, her very lips turned +white and cold, and he, not understanding, timorous, chivalrous and +humble, thought that she was repelled by his ardour and frightened by a +passion to which she was too pure to respond. + +Nothing but that one word had been spoken--just her name, an appeal from +a strong man, overmastered at last by his boundless love--and she, poor, +stricken soul, who had so much loved, so deeply wronged him, shuddered +at the thought of what she might have done, had Fate not helped her to +save him. + +Half ashamed of his passion, he bowed his dark head over her hands, and, +once more forcing himself to be calm now, he kissed her finger-tips +reverently. + +When he looked up again the hard lines in her face had softened, and two +tears were slowly trickling down her pale cheeks. + +"Will you forgive me, madonna?" he said gently. "I am only a man and you +are very beautiful. No--don't take your little hands away. I am quite +calm now, and know how one should speak to angels." + +Reason, justice, rectitude--everything was urging Juliette to close her +ears to the words of love, spoken by the man whom she had betrayed. But +who shall blame her for listening to the sweetest sound the ears of a +woman can ever hear--the sound of the voice of the loved one in his +first declaration of love? + +She sat and listened, whilst he whispered to her those soft, endearing +words, of which a strong man alone possesses the enchanting secret. + +She sat and listened, whilst all around her was still. Madame Deroulede, +at the farther end of the room, was softly muttering a few prayers. + +They were all alone these two in the mad and beautiful world, which man +has created for himself--the world of romance--that world more wonderful +than any heaven, where only those may enter who have learned the sweet +lesson of love. Deroulede roamed in it at will. He had created his own +romance, wherein he was as a humble worshipper, spending his life in the +service of his madonna. + +And she too forgot the earth, forgot the reality, her oath, her crime +and its punishment, and began to think that it was good to live, good to +love, and good to have at her feet the one man in all the world whom she +could fondly worship. + +Who shall tell what he whispered? Enough that she listened and that she +smiled; and he, seeing her smile, felt happy. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Detected. + + +The opening and shutting of the door roused them both from their dreams. + +Anne Mie, pale, trembling, with eyes looking wild and terrified, had +glided into the room. + +Deroulede had sprung to his feet. In a moment he had thrust his own +happiness into the background at sight of the poor child's obvious +suffering. He went quickly towards her, and would have spoken to her, +but she ran past him up to Madame Deroulede, as if she were beside +herself with some unexplainable terror. + +"Anne Mie," he said firmly, "what is it? Have those devils dared ..." + +In a moment reality had come rushing back upon him with full force, and +bitter reproaches surged up in his heart against himself, for having in +this moment of selfish joy forgotten those who looked up to him for help +and protection. + +He knew the temper of the brutes who had been set upon his track, knew +that low-minded Merlin and his noisome ways, and blamed himself severely +for having left Anne Mie and Petronelle alone with him even for a few +moments. + +But Anne Mie quickly reassured him. + +"They have not molested us much," she said, speaking with a visible +effort and enforced calmness. "Petronelle and I were together, and they +made us open all the cupboards and uncover all the dishes. They then +asked us many questions." + +"Questions? Of what kind?" asked Deroulede. + +"About you, Paul," replied Anne Mie, "and about maman, and also about +--about the citizeness, your guest." + +Deroulede looked at her closely, vaguely wondering at the strange +attitude of the child. She was evidently labouring under some strong +excitement, and in her thin, brown little hand she was clutching a piece +of paper. + +"Anne Mie! Child," he said very gently, "you seem quite upset--as if +something terrible had happened. What is that paper you are holding, my +dear?" + +Anne Mie gazed down upon it. She was obviously making frantic efforts to +maintain her self-possession. + +Juliette at first sight of Anne Mie seemed literally to have been turned +to stone. She sat upright, rigid as a statue, her eyes fixed upon the +poor, crippled girl as if upon an inexorable judge, about to pronounce +sentence upon her of life or death. + +Instinct, that keen sense of coming danger which Nature sometimes gives +to her elect, had told her that, within the next few seconds, her doom +would be sealed; that Fate would descend upon her, holding the sword of +Nemesis; and it was Anne Mie's tiny, half-shrivelled hand which had +placed that sword into the grasp of Fate. + +"What is that paper? Will you let me see it, Anne Mie?" repeated +Deroulede. + +"Citizen Merlin gave it to me just now," began Anne Mie more quietly; +"he seems very wroth at finding nothing compromising against you, Paul. +They were a long time in the kitchen, and now they have gone to search +my room and Petronelle's; but Merlin--oh! that awful man!--he seemed +like a beast infuriated with his disappointment." + +"Yes, yes." + +"I don't know what he hoped to get out of me, for I told him that you +never spoke to your mother or to me about your political business, and +that I was not in the habit of listening at the keyholes." + +"Yes. And ..." + +"Then he began to speak of--of our guest--but, of course, there again I +could tell him nothing. He seemed to be puzzled as to who had denounced +you. He spoke about an anonymous denunciation, which reached the Public +Prosecutor early this morning. It was written on a scrap of paper, and +thrown into the public box, it seems, and ..." + +"It is indeed very strange," said Deroulede, musing over this +extraordinary occurrence, and still more over Anne Mie's strange +excitement in the telling of it. "I never knew I had a hidden enemy. I +wonder if I shall ever find out ..." + +"That is just what I said to Citizen Merlin," rejoined Anne Mie. + +"What?" + +"That I wondered if you, or--or any of us who love you, will ever find +out who your hidden enemy might be." + +"It was a mistake to talk so fully with such a brute, little one." + +"I didn't say much, and I thought it wisest to humour him, as he seemed +to wish to talk on that subject." + +"Well? And what did he say?" + +"He laughed, and asked me if I would very much like to know." + +"I hope you said No, Anne Mie?" + +"Indeed, indeed, I said Yes," she retorted with sudden energy, her eyes +fixed now upon Juliette, who still sat rigid and silent, watching every +movement of Anne Mie from the moment in which she began to tell her +story. + +"Would I not wish to know who is your enemy, Paul--the creature who was +base and treacherous enough to attempt to deliver you into the hands of +those merciless villains? What wrong had you done to anyone?" + +"Sh! Hush, Anne Mie! you are too excited," he said, smiling now, in +spite of himself, at the young girl's vehemence over what he thought was +but a trifle--the discovery of his own enemy. + +"I am sorry, Paul. How can I help being excited," rejoined Anne Mie with +quaint, pathetic gentleness, "when I speak of such base treachery, as +that which Merlin has suggested?" + +"Well? And what did he suggest?" + +"He did more than suggest," whispered Anne Mie almost inaudibly; "he +gave me this paper--the anonymous denunciation which reached the Public +Prosecutor this morning--he thought one of us might recognise the +handwriting." + +Then she paused, some five steps away from Deroulede, holding out +towards him the crumpled paper, which up to now she had clutched +determinedly in her hand. Deroulede was about to take it from her, and +just before he had turned to do so, his eyes lighted on Juliette. + +She said nothing, she had merely risen instinctively, and had reached +Anne Mie's side in less than the fraction of a second. + +It was all a flash, and there was dead silence in the room, but in that +one-hundredth part of a second, Deroulede had read guilt in the face of +Juliette. + +It was nothing but instinct, a sudden, awful, unexplainable revelation. +Her soul seemed suddenly to stand before him in all its misery and in +all its sin. + +It was if the fire from heaven had descended in one terrific crash, +burying beneath its devastating flames his ideals, his happiness, and +his divinity. She was no longer there. His madonna had ceased to be. + +There stood before him a beautiful woman, on whom he had lavished all +the pent-up treasures of his love, whom he had succoured, sheltered, and +protected, and who had repaid him thus. + +She had forced an entry into his house; she had spied upon him, dogged +him, lied to him. The moment was too sudden, too awful for him to make +even a wild guess at her motives. His entire life, his whole past, the +present, and the future, were all blotted out in this awful dispersal of +his most cherished dream. He had forgotten everything else save her +appalling treachery; how could he even remember that once, long ago, in +fair fight, he had killed her brother? + +She did not even try now to hide her guilt. + +A look of appeal, touching in its trustfulness, went out to him, begging +him to spare her further shame. Perhaps she felt that love, such as his, +could not be killed in a flash. + +His entire nature was full of pity, and to that pity she made a final +appeal, lest she should be humiliated before Madame Deroulede and Anne +Mie. + +And he, still under the spell of those magic moments when he had knelt +at her feet, understood her prayer, and closing his eyes just for one +brief moment in order to shut out for ever that radiant vision of a pure +angel whom he had worshipped, turned quietly to Anne Mie. + +"Give me that paper, Anne Mie," he said coldly. "I may perhaps recognise +the handwriting of my most bitter enemy." + +"'Tis unnecessary now," replied Anne Mie slowly, still gazing at the +face of Juliette, in which she too had read what she wished to read. + +The paper dropped out of her hand. + +Deroulede stooped to pick it up. He unfolded it, smoothed it out, and +then saw that it was blank. + +"There is nothing written on this paper," he said mechanically. + +"No," rejoined Anne Mie; "no other words save the story of her +treachery." + +"What you have done is evil and wicked, Anne Mie." + +"Perhaps so; but I had guessed the truth, and I wished to know. God +showed me this way, how to do it, and how to let you know as well." + +"The less you speak of God just now, Anne Mie, the better, I think. Will +you attend to maman? she seems faint and ill." + +Madame Deroulede, silent and placid in her arm-chair, had watched the +tragic scene before her, almost like a disinterested spectator. All her +ideas and all her thoughts had been paralysed, since the moment when the +first summons at the front door had warned her of the imminence of the +peril to her son. + +The final discovery of Juliette's treachery had left her impassive. +Since her son was in danger, she cared little as to whence that danger +had come. + +Obedient to Deroulede's wish, Anne Mie was attending to the old lady's +comforts. The poor, crippled girl was already feeling the terrible +reaction of her deed. + +In her childish mind she had planned this way, in which to bring the +traitor to shame. Anne Mie knew nothing, cared nothing, about the +motives which had actuated Juliette; all she knew was that a terrible +Judas-like deed had been perpetrated against the man, on whom she +herself had lavished her pathetic, hopeless love. + +All the pent-up jealousy which had tortured her for the past three weeks +rose up, and goaded her into unmasking her rival. + +Never for a moment did she doubt Juliette's guilt. The god of love may +be blind, tradition has so decreed it, but the demon of jealousy has a +hundred eyes, more keen than those of the lynx. + +Anne Mie, pushed aside by Merlin's men when they forced their way into +Deroulede's study, had, nevertheless, followed them to the door. When +the curtains were drawn aside and the room filled with light, she had +seen Juliette enthroned, apparently calm and placid, upon the sofa. + +It was instinct, the instinct born of her own rejected passion, which +caused her to read in the beautiful girl's face all that lay hidden +behind the pale, impassive mask. That same second sight made her +understand Merlin's hints and allusions. She caught every inflection of +his voice, heard everything, saw everything. + +And in the midst of her anxiety and her terrors for the man she loved, +there was the wild, primitive, intensely human joy at the thought of +bringing that enthroned idol, who had stolen his love, down to earth at +last. + +Anne Mie was not clever; she was simple and childish, with no complexity +of passions or devious ways of intellect. It was her elemental jealousy +which suggested the cunning plan for the unmasking of Juliette. She +would make the girl cringe and fear, threaten her with discovery, and +through her very terror shame her before Paul Deroulede. + +And now it was all done; it had all occurred as she had planned it. Paul +knew that his love had been wasted upon a liar and a traitor, and +Juliette stood pale, humiliated, a veritable wreck of shamed humanity. + +Anne Mie had triumphed, and was profoundly, abjectly wretched in her +triumph. Great sobs seemed to tear at her very heart-strings. She had +pulled down Paul's idol from her pedestal, but the one look she had cast +at his face had shown her that she had also wrecked his life. + +He seemed almost old now. The earnest, restless gaze had gone from his +eyes; he was staring mutely before him, twisting between nerveless +fingers that blank scrap of paper, which had been the means of +annihilating his dream. + +All energy of attitude, all strength of bearing, which were his chief +characteristics, seemed to have gone. There was a look of complete +blankness, of hopelessness in his listless gesture. + +"How he loved her!" sighed Anne Mie, as she tenderly wrapped the shawl +round Madame Deroulede's shoulders. + +Juliette had said nothing; it seemed as if her very life had gone out of +her. She was a mere statue now, her mind numb, her heart dead, her very +existence a fragile piece of mechanism. But she was looking at +Deroulede. That one sense in her had remained alive: her sight. + +She looked and looked: and saw every passing sign of mental agony on his +face: the look of recognition of her guilt, the bewilderment at the +appalling crash, and now that hideous deathlike emptiness of his soul +and mind. + +Never once did she detect horror or loathing. He had tried to save her +from being further humiliated before his mother, but there was no hatred +or contempt in his eyes, when he realised that she had been unmasked by +a trick. + +She looked and looked, for there was no hope in her, not even despair. +There was nothing in her mind, nothing in her soul, but a great +pall-like blank. + +Then gradually, as the minutes sped on, she saw the strong soul within +him make a sudden fight against the darkness of his despair: the +movement of the fingers became less listless; the powerful, energetic +figure straightened itself out; remembrance of other matters, other +interests than his own began to lift the overwhelming burden of his +grief. + +He remembered the letter-case containing the compromising papers. A +vague wonder arose in him as to Juliette's motives in warding off, +through her concealment of it, the inevitable moment of its discovery by +Merlin. + +The thought that her entire being had undergone a change, and that she +now wished to save him, never once entered his mind; if it had, he would +have dismissed it as the outcome of maudlin sentimentality, the conceit +of the fop, who believes his personality to be irresistible. + +His own self-torturing humility pointed but to the one conclusion: that +she had fooled him all along; fooled him when she sought his protection; +fooled him when she taught him to love her; fooled him, above all, at +the moment when, subjugated by the intensity of his passion, he had for +one brief second ceased to worship in order to love. + +When the bitter remembrance of that moment of sweetest folly rushed back +to his aching brain, then at last did he look up at her with one final, +agonised look of reproach, so great, so tender, and yet so final, that +Anne Mie, who saw it, felt as if her own heart would break with the pity +of it all. + +But Juliette had caught the look too. The tension of her nerves seemed +suddenly to relax. Memory rushed back upon her with tumultuous +intensity. Very gradually her knees gave beneath her, and at last she +knelt down on the floor before him, her golden head bent under the +burden of her guilt and her shame. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Under arrest. + + +Deroulede did not attempt to go to her. + +Only presently, when the heavy footsteps of Merlin and his men were once +more heard upon the landing, she quietly rose to her feet. + +She had accomplished her act of humiliation and repentance, there before +them all. She looked for the last time upon those whom she had so deeply +wronged, and in her heart spoke an eternal farewell to that great, and +mighty, and holy love which she had called forth and then had so +hopelessly crushed. + +Now she was ready for the atonement. + +Merlin had already swaggered into the room. The long and arduous search +throughout the house had not improved either his temper or his personal +appearance. He was more covered with grime than he had been before, and +his narrow forehead had almost disappeared beneath the tangled mass of +his ill-kempt hair, which he had perpetually tugged forward and roughed +up in his angry impatience. + +One look at his face had already told Juliette what she wished to know. +He had searched her room, and found the fragments of burnt paper, which +she had purposely left in the ash-pan. + +How he would act now was the one thing of importance left for Juliette +to ponder over. That she would not escape arrest and condemnation was at +once made clear to her. Merlin's look of sneering contempt, when he +glanced towards her, had told her that. + +Deroulede himself had been conscious of a feeling of intense relief when +the men re-entered the room. The tension had become unendurable. When he +saw his dethroned madonna kneel in humiliation at his feet, an +overwhelming pain had wrenched his very heart-strings. + +And yet he could not go to her. The passionate, human nature within him +felt a certain proud exultation at seeing her there. + +She was not above him now, she was no longer akin to the angels. + +He had given no further thought to his own immediate danger. Vaguely he +guessed that Merlin would find the leather case. Where it was he could +not tell; perhaps Juliette herself had handed it to the soldiers. She +had only hidden it for a few moments, out of impulse perhaps, fearing +lest, at the first instant of its discovery, Merlin might betray her. + +He remembered now those hints and insinuations which had gone out from +the Terrorist to Juliette whilst the search was being conducted in the +study. At the time he had merely looked upon these as a base attempt at +insult, and had tortured himself almost beyond bearing, in the endeavour +to refrain from punishing that evilmouthed creature, who dared to bandy +words with his madonna. + +But now he understood, and felt his very soul writhing with shame at the +remembrance of it all. + +Oh yes; the return of Merlin and his men, the presence of these grimy, +degraded brutes, was welcome now. He would have wished to crowd in the +entire world, the universe and its population, between him and his +fallen idol. + +Merlin's manner towards him had lost nothing of its ironical +benevolence. There was even a touch of obsequiousness apparent in the +ugly face, as the representative of the people approached the popular +Citizen-Deputy. + +"Citizen-Deputy," began Merlin, "I have to bring you the welcome news, +that we have found nothing in your house that in any way can cast +suspicion upon your loyalty to the Republic. My orders, however, were to +bring you before the Committee of Public Safety, whether I had found +proofs of your guilt or not. I have found none." + +He was watching Deroulede keenly, hoping even at this eleventh hour to +detect a look or a sign, which would furnish him with the proofs for +which he was seeking. The slightest suggestion of relief on Deroulede's +part, a sigh of satisfaction, would have been sufficient at this moment, +to convince him and the Committee of Public Safety that the +Citizen-Deputy was guilty after all. + +But Deroulede never moved. He was sufficiently master of himself not to +express either surprise or satisfaction. Yet he felt both--satisfaction +not for his own safety, but because of his mother and Anne Mie, whom he +would immediately send out of the country, out of all danger; and also +because of her, of Juliette Marny, his guest, who, whatever she may have +done against him, had still a claim on his protection. His feeling of +surprise was less keen, and quite transient. Merlin had not found the +letter-case. Juliette, stricken with tardy remorse perhaps, had +succeeded in concealing it. The matter had practically ceased to +interest him. It was equally galling to owe his betrayal or his ultimate +safety to her. + +He kissed his mother tenderly, bidding her good-bye, and pressed Anne +Mie's timid little hand warmly between his own. He did what he could to +reassure them, but, for their own sakes, he dared say nothing before +Merlin, as to his plans for their safety. + +After that he was ready to follow the soldiers. + +As he passed close to Juliette he bowed, and almost inaudibly whispered: + +"Adieu!" + +She heard the whisper, but did not respond. Her look alone gave him the +reply to his eternal farewell. + +His footsteps and those of his escort were heard echoing down the +staircase, then the hall door to open and shut. Through the open window +came the sound of hoarse cheering as the popular Citizen-Deputy appeared +in the street. + +Merlin, with two men beside him, remained under the portico; he told off +the other two to escort Deroulede as far as the Hall of Justice, where +sat the members of the Committee of Public Safety. The Terrorist had a +vague fear that the Citizen-Deputy would speak to the mob. + +An unruly crowd of women had evidently been awaiting his appearance. The +news had quickly spread along the streets that Merlin, Merlin himself, +the ardent, bloodthirsty Jacobin, had made a descent upon Paul +Deroulede's house, escorted by four soldiers. Such an indignity, put +upon the man they most trusted in the entire assembly of the Convention, +had greatly incensed the crowd. The women jeered at the soldiers as soon +as they appeared, and Merlin dared not actually forbid Deroulede to +speak. + +_"A la lanterne, vieux cretin!"_ shouted one of the women, thrusting her +fist under Merlin's nose. + +"Give the word, Citizen-Deputy," rejoined another, "and we'll break his +ugly face. _Nous lui casserons la gueule!_" + +"_A la lanterne! A la lanterne!"_ + +One word from Deroulede now would have caused an open riot, and in those +days self defence against the mob was construed into enmity against the +people. + +Merlin's work, too, was not yet accomplished. He had had no intention of +escorting Deroulede himself; he had still important business to transact +inside the house which he had just quitted, and had merely wished to get +the Citizen-Deputy well out of the way, before he went upstairs again. + +Moreover, he had expected something of a riot in the streets. The temper +of the people of Paris was at fever heat just now. The hatred of the +populace against a certain class, and against certain individuals, was +only equalled by their enthusiasm in favour of others. + +They had worshipped Marat for his squalor and his vices; they worshipped +Danton for his energy and Robespierre for his calm; they worshipped +Deroulede for his voice, his gentleness and his pity, for his care of +their children and the eloquence of his speech. + +It was that eloquence which Merlin feared now; but he little knew the +type of man he had to deal with. + +Deroulede's influence over the most unruly, the most vicious populace +the history of the world has ever known, was not obtained through +fanning its passions. That popularity, though brilliant, is always +ephemeral. The passions of a mob will invariably turn against those who +have helped to rouse them. Marat did not live to see the waning of his +star; Danton was dragged to the guillotine by those whom he had taught +to look upon that instrument of death as the only possible and +unanswerable political argument; Robespierre succumbed to the orgies of +bloodshed he himself had brought about. But Deroulede remained master of +the people of Paris for as long as he chose to exert that mastery. When +they listened to him they felt better, nobler, less hopelessly degraded. + +He kept up in their poor, misguided hearts that last flickering sense of +manhood which their bloodthirsty tyrants, under the guise of Fraternity +and Equality, were doing their best to smother. + +Even now, when he might have turned the temper of the small crowd +outside his door to his own advantage, he preferred to say nothing; he +even pacified them with a gesture. + +He well knew that those whom he incited against Merlin now would, once +their blood was up, probably turn against him in less than half-an-hour. + +Merlin, who all along had meant to return to the house, took his +opportunity now. He allowed Deroulede and the two men to go on ahead, +and beat a hasty retreat back into the house, followed by the jeers of +the women. + +_"A la lanterne, vieux cretin!"_ they shouted as soon as the hall door +was once more closed in their faces. A few of them began hammering +against the door with their fists; then they realised that their special +favourite, Citizen-Deputy Deroulede, was marching along between two +soldiers, as if he were a prisoner. The word went round that he was +under arrest, and was being taken to the Hall of Justice--a prisoner. + +This was not to be. The mob of Paris had been taught that it was the +master in the city, and it had learned its lesson well. For the moment +it had chosen to take Paul Deroulede under its special protection, and +as a guard of honour to him--the women in ragged kirtles, the men with +bare legs and stripped to the waist, the children all yelling, hooting, +and shrieking--followed him, to see that none dared harm him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +Atonement. + + +Merlin waited a while in the hall, until he heard the noise of the +shrieking crowd gradually die away in the distance, then with a grunt of +satisfaction he one more mounted the stairs. + +All these events outside had occurred during a very few minutes, and +Madame Deroulede and Anne Mie had been too anxious as to what was +happening in the streets, to take any notice of Juliette. + +They had not dared to step out on to the balcony to see what was going +on, and, therefore, did not understand what the reopening and shutting +of the front door had meant. + +The next instant, however, Merlin's heavy, slouching footsteps on the +stairs had caused Anne Mie to look round in alarm. + +"It is only the soldiers come back for me," said Juliette quietly. + +"For you?" + +"Yes; they are coming to take me away. I suppose they did not wish to do +it in the presence of Mr. Deroulede, for fear ..." + +She had no time to say more. Anne Mie was still looking at her in awed +and mute surprise, when Merlin entered the room. + +In his hand he held a leather case, all torn, and split at one end, and +a few tiny scraps of half-charred paper. He walked straight up to +Juliette, and roughly thrust the case and papers into her face. + +"These are yours?" he said roughly. + +"Yes." + +"I suppose you know where they were found?" + +She nodded quietly in reply. + +"What were these papers which you burnt?" + +"Love letters." + +"You lie!" + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"As you please," she said curtly. + +"What were these papers?" he repeated, with a loud obscene oath which, +however, had not the power to disturb the young girl's serenity. + +"I have told you," she said: "love letters, which I wished to burn." + +"Who was your lover?" he asked. + +Then as she did not reply he indicated the street, where cries of +"Deroulede! Vive Deroulede!" still echoed from afar. + +"Were the letters from him?" + +"No." + +"You had more than one lover, then?" + +He laughed, and a hideous leer seemed further to distort his ugly +countenance. + +He thrust his face quite close to hers, and she closed her eyes, sick +with the horror of this contact with the degraded wretch. Even Anne Mie +had uttered a cry of sympathy at sight of this evil-smelling, squalid +creature torturing, with his close proximity, the beautiful, refined +girl before him. + +With a rough gesture he put his clawlike hand under her delicate chin, +forcing her to turn round and to look at him. She shuddered at the +loathsome touch, but her quietude never forsook her for a moment. + +It was into the power of wretches such as this man, that she had +wilfully delivered the man she loved. This brutish creature's +familiarity put the finishing touch to her own degradation, but it gave +her the courage to carry through her purpose to the end. + +"You had more than one lover, then?" said Merlin, with a laugh which +would have pleased the devil himself. "And you wished to send one of +them to the guillotine in order to make way for the other? Was that it?" + +"Was that it?" he repeated, suddenly seizing one of her wrists, and +giving it as savage twist, so that she almost screamed with the pain. + +"Yes," she replied firmly. + +"Do you know that you brought me here on a fool's errand?" he asked +viciously; "that the Citizen-Deputy Deroulede cannot be sent to the +guillotine on mere suspicion, eh? Did you know that, when you wrote out +that denunciation?" + +"No; I did not know." + +"You thought we could arrest him on mere suspicion?" + +"Yes." + +"You knew he was Innocent?" + +"I knew it." + +"Why did you burn your love letters?" + +"I was afraid that they would be found, and would be brought under the +notice of the Citizen-Deputy." + +"A splendid combination, _ma foi!_" said Merlin, with an oath, as he +turned to the two other women, who sat pale and shrinking in a corner of +the room, not understanding what was going on, not knowing what to think +or what to believe. They had known nothing of Deroulede's plans for the +escape of Marie Antoinette, they didn't know what the letter-case had +contained, and yet they both vaguely felt that the beautiful girl, who +stood up so calmly before the loathsome Terrorist, was not a wanton, as +she tried to make out, but only misguided, mad perhaps--perhaps a +martyr. + +"Did you know anything of this?" queried Merlin roughly from trembling +Anne Mie. + +"Nothing," she replied. + +"No one knew anything of my private affairs or of my private +correspondence," said Juliette coldly; "as you say, it was a splendid +combination. I had hoped that it would succeed. But I understand now +that Citizen-Deputy Deroulede is a personage of too much importance to +be brought to trial on mere suspicion, and my denunciation of him was +not based on facts." + +"And do you know, my fine aristocrat," sneered Merlin viciously, "that +it is not wise either to fool the Committee of Public Safety, or to +denounce without cause one of the representatives of the people?" + +"I know," she rejoined quietly, "that you, Citizen Merlin, are +determined that someone shall pay for this day's blunder. You dare not +now attack the Citizen-Deputy, and so you must be content with me." + +"Enough of this talk now; I have no time to bandy words with aristos," +he said roughly. + +"Come now, follow the men quietly. Resistance would only aggravate your +case." + +"I am quite prepared to follow you. May I speak two words to my friends +before I go?" + +"No." + +"I may never be able to speak to them again." + +"I have said No, and I mean No. Now then, forward. March! I have wasted +too much time already." + +Juliette was too proud to insist any further. She had hoped, by one +word, to soften Madame Deroulede's and Anne Mie's heart towards her. She +did not know whether they believed that miserable lie which she had been +telling to Merlin; she only guessed that for the moment they still +thought her the betrayer of Paul Deroulede. + +But that one word was not to be spoken. She would have to go forth to +her certain trial, to her probable death, under the awful cloud, which +she herself had brought over her own life. + +She turned quietly, and walked towards the door, where the two men +already stood at attention. + +Then it was that some heaven-born instinct seemed suddenly to guide Anne +Mie. The crippled girl was face to face with a psychological problem, +which in itself was far beyond her comprehension, but vaguely she felt +that it was a problem. Something in Juliette's face had already caused +her to bitterly repent her action towards her, and now, as this +beautiful, refined woman was about to pass from under the shelter of +this roof, to the cruel publicity and terrible torture of that awful +revolutionary tribunal, Anne Mie's whole heart went out to her in +boundless sympathy. + +Before Merlin or the men could prevent her, she had run up to Juliette, +taken her hand, which hung listless and cold, and kissed it tenderly. + +Juliette seemed to wake as if from a dream. She looked down at Anne Mie +with a glance of hope, almost of joy, and whispered: + +"It was an oath--I swore it to my father and my dead brother. Tell him." + +Anne Mie could only nod; she could not speak, for her tears were choking +her. + +"But I'll atone--with my life. Tell him," whispered Juliette. + +"Now then," shouted Merlin, "out of the way, hunchback, unless you want +to come along too." + +"Forgive me," said Anne Mie through her tears. + +Then the men pushed her roughly aside. But at the door Juliette turned +to her once more, and said: + +"Petronelle--take care of her ..." + +And with a firm step she followed the soldiers out of the room. + +Presently the front door was heard to open, then to shut with a loud +bang, and the house in the Rue Ecole de Medecine was left in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +In the Luxembourg prison. + + +Juliette was alone at last--that is to say, comparatively alone, for +there were too many aristocrats, too many criminals and traitors, in the +prisons of Paris now, to allow of any seclusion of those who were about +to be tried, condemned, and guillotined. + +The young girl had been marched through the crowded streets of Paris, +followed by a jeering mob, who readily recognised in the gentle, +high-bred girl the obvious prey, which the Committee of Public Safety +was wont, from time to time to throw to the hungry hydra-headed dog of +the Revolution. + +Lately the squalid spectators of the noisome spectacle on the Place de +la Guillotine had had few of these very welcome sights: an aristocrat +--a real, elegant, refined woman, with white hands and proud, pale +face--mounting the steps of the same scaffold on which perished the +vilest criminals and most degraded brutes. + +Madame Guillotine was, above all, catholic in her tastes, her gaunt +arms, painted blood red, were open alike to the murderer and the thief, +the aristocrats of ancient lineage, and the proletariat from the gutter. + +But lately the executions had been almost exclusively of a political +character. The Girondins were fighting their last upon the bloody arena +of the Revolution. One by one they fell still fighting, still preaching +moderation, still foretelling disaster and appealing to that people, +whom they had roused from one slavery, in order to throw it headlong +under a tyrannical yoke more brutish, more absolute than before. + +There were twelve prisons in Paris then, and forty thousand in France, +and they were all full. An entire army went round the country recruiting +prisoners. There was no room for separate cells, no room for privacy, no +cause or desire for the most elementary sense of delicacy. + +Women, men, children--all were herded together, for one day, perhaps +two, and a night or so, and then death would obliterate the petty +annoyances, the womanly blushes caused by this sordid propinquity. + +Death levelled all, erased everything. + +When Marie Antoinette mounted the guillotine she had forgotten that for +six weeks she practically lived day and night in the immediate +companionship of a set of degraded soldiery. + +Juliette, as she marched through the streets between two men of the +National Guard, and followed by Merlin, was hooted and jeered at, +insulted, pelted with mud. One woman tried to push past the soldiers, +and to strike her in the face--a woman! not thirty!--and who was +dragging a pale, squalid little boy by the hand. + +"_Crache donc sur l'aristo, voyons!_" the woman said to this poor, +miserable little scrap of humanity as the soldiers pushed her roughly +aside. "Spit on the aristocrat!" And the child tortured its own small, +parched mouth so that, in obedience to its mother, it might defile and +bespatter a beautiful, innocent girl. + +The soldiers laughed, and improved the occasion with another insulting +jest. Even Merlin forgot his vexation, delighted at the incident. + +But Juliette had seen nothing of it all. + +She was walking as in a dream. The mob did not exist for her; she heard +neither insult nor vituperation. She did not see the evil, dirty faces +pushed now and then quite close to her; she did not feel the rough hands +of the soldiers jostling her through the crowd: she had gone back to her +own world of romance, where she dwelt alone now with the man she loved. +Instead of the squalid houses of Paris, with their eternal device of +Fraternity and Equality, there were beautiful trees and shrubs of laurel +and of roses around her, making the air fragrant with their soft, +intoxicating perfumes; sweet voices from the land of dreams filled the +atmosphere with their tender murmur, whilst overhead a cloudless sky +illumined this earthly paradise. + +She was happy--supremely, completely happy. She had saved him from the +consequences of her own iniquitous crime, and she was about to give her +life for him, so that his safety might be more completely assured. + +Her love for him he would never know; now he knew only her crime, but +presently, when she would be convicted and condemned, confronted with a +few scraps of burned paper and a torn letter-case, then he would know +that she had stood her trial, self-accused, and meant to die for him. + +Therefore the past few moments were now wholly hers. She had the rights +to dwell on those few happy seconds when she listened to the avowal of +his love. It was ethereal, and perhaps not altogether human, but it was +hers. She had been his divinity, his madonna; he had loved in her that, +which was her truer, her better self. + +What was base in her was not truly her. That awful oath, sworn so +solemnly, had been her relentless tyrant; and her religion--a religion +of superstition and of false ideals--had blinded her, and dragged her +into crime. + +She had arrogated to herself that which was God's alone--"Vengeance!" +which is not for man. + +That through it all she should have known love, and learned its tender +secrets, was more than she deserved. That she should have felt his +burning kisses on her hand was heavenly compensation for all she would +have to suffer. + +And so she allowed them to drag her through the sansculotte mob of +Paris, who would have torn her to pieces then and there, so as not to +delay the pleasure of seeing her die. + +They took her to the Luxembourg, once the palace of the Medici, the home +of proud "Monsieur" in the days of the Great Monarch, now a loathsome, +overfilled prison. + +It was then six o'clock in the afternoon, drawing towards the close of +this memorable day. She was handed over to the governor of the prison, a +short, thick-set man in black trousers and black-shag woollen shirt, and +wearing a dirty red cap, with tricolour rosette on the side of his +unkempt head. + +He eyed her up and down as she passed under the narrow doorway, then +murmured one swift query to Merlin: + +"Dangerous?" + +"Yes," replied Merlin laconically. + +"You understand," added the governor; "we are so crowded. We ought to +know if individual attention is required." + +"Certainly," said Merlin, "you will be personally responsible for this +prisoner to the Committee of Public Safety." + +"Any visitors allowed?" + +"Certainly not, without the special permission of the Public +Prosecutor." + +Juliette heard this brief exchange of words over her future fate. + +No visitor would be allowed to see her. Well, perhaps that would be +best. She would have been afraid to meet Deroulede again, afraid to read +in his eyes that story of his dead love, which alone might have +destroyed her present happiness. + +And she wished to see no one. She had a memory to dwell on--a short, +heavenly memory. It consisted of a few words, a kiss--the last one--on +her hand, and that passionate murmur which had escaped from his lips +when he knelt at her feet: + +"Juliette!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Complexities. + + +Citizen-Deputy Deroulede had been privately interviewed by the Committee +of Public Safety, and temporarily allowed to go free. + +The brief proceedings had been quite private, the people of Paris were +not to know as yet that their favourite was under a cloud. When he had +answered all the questions put to him, and Merlin--just returned from +his errand at the Luxembourg Prison--had given his version of the +domiciliary visitation in the Citizen-Deputy's house, the latter was +briefly told that for the moment the Republic had no grievance against +him. + +But he knew quite well what that meant. He would be henceforth under +suspicion, watched incessantly, as a mouse is by the cat, and pounced +upon, the moment time would be considered propitious for his final +downfall. + +The inevitable waning of his popularity would be noted by keen, jealous +eyes; and Deroulede, with his sure knowledge of mankind and of +character, knew well enough that his popularity was bound to wane sooner +or later, as all such ephemeral things do. + +In the meanwhile, during the short respite which his enemies would leave +him, his one thought and duty would be to get his mother and Anne Mie +safely out of the country. + +And also ... + +He thought of _her,_ and wondered what had happened. As he walked +swiftly across the narrow footbridge, and reached the other side of the +river, the events of the past few hours rushed upon his memory with +terrible, overwhelming force. + +A bitter ache filled his heart at the remembrance of her treachery. The +baseness of it all was so appalling. He tried to think if he had ever +wronged her; wondered if perhaps she loved someone else, and wished +_him_ out of her way. + +But, then, he had been so humble, so unassuming in his love. He had +arrogated nothing unto himself, asked for nothing, demanded nothing in +virtue of his protecting powers over her. + +He was torturing himself with this awful wonderment of why she had +treated him thus. + +Out of revenge for her brother's death--that was the only explanation he +could find, the only palliation for her crime. + +He knew nothing of her oath to her father, and, of course, had never +heard of the sad history of this young, sensitive girl placed in one +terrible moment between her dead brother and her demented father. He +only thought of common, sordid revenge for a sin he had been practically +forced to commit. + +And how he had loved her! Yes, _loved_--for that was in the past now. + +She had ceased to be a saint or a madonna; she had fallen from her +pedestal so low that he could not find the way to descend and grope +after the fragments of his ideal. + +At his own door he was met by Anne Mie in tears. + +"She has gone," murmured the young girl. "I feel as if I had murdered +her." + +"Gone? Who? Where?" queried Deroulede rapidly, an icy feeling of terror +gripping him by the heart-strings. + +"Juliette has gone," replied Anne Mie; "those awful brutes took her +away." + +"When?" + +"Directly after you left. That man Merlin found some ashes and scraps of +paper in her room ..." + +"Ashes?" + +"Yes; and a torn letter-case." + +"Great God!" + +"She said that they were love letters, which she had been burning for +fear you should see them." + +"She said so? Anne Mie, Anne Mie, are you quite sure?" + +It was all so horrible, and he did not quite understand it all; his +brain, which was usually so keen and so active, refused him service at +this terrible juncture. + +"Yes; I am quite sure," continued Anne Mie, in the midst of her tears. +"And oh! that awful Merlin said some dastardly things. But she persisted +in her story, that she had--another lover. Oh, Paul, I am sure it is not +true. I hated her because--because--you loved her so, and I mistrusted +her, but I cannot believe that she was quite as base as that." + +"No, no, child," he said in a toneless, miserable voice; "she was not so +base as that. Tell me more of what she said." + +"She said very little else. But Merlin asked her whether she had +denounced you so as to get you out of the way. He hinted that--that ..." + +"That I was her lover too?" + +"Yes," murmured Anne Mie. + +She hardly liked to look at him; the strong face had become hard and set +in its misery. + +"And she allowed them to say all this?" he asked at last. + +"Yes. And she followed them without a murmur, as Merlin said she would +have to answer before the Committee of Public Safety, for having fooled +the representatives of the people." + +"She'll answer for it with her life," murmured Deroulede. "And with +mine!" he added half audibly. + +Anne Mie did not hear him; her pathetic little soul was filled with a +great, an overwhelming pity of Juliette and for Paul. + +"Before they took her away," she said, placing her thin, +delicate-looking hands on his arm. "I ran to her, and bade her farewell. +The soldiers pushed me roughly aside; but I contrived to kiss her--and +then she whispered a few words to me." + +"Yes? What were they?" + +"'It was an oath,' she said. 'I swore it to my father and to my dead +brother. Tell him,'" repeated Anne Mie slowly. + +An oath! + +Now he understood, and oh! how he pitied her. How terribly she must have +suffered in her poor, harassed soul when her noble, upright nature +fought against this hideous treachery. + +That she was true and brave in herself, of that Deroulede had no doubt. +And now this awful sin upon her conscience, which must be causing her +endless misery. + +And, alas! the atonement would never free her from the load of +self-condemnation. She had elected to pay with her life for her treason +against him and his family. She would be arraigned before a tribunal +which would inevitably condemn her. Oh! the pity of it all! + +One moment's passionate emotion, a lifelong superstition and mistaken +sense of duty, and now this endless misery, this terrible atonement of a +wrong that could never be undone. + +And she had never loved him! + +That was the true, the only sting which he knew now; it rankled more +than her sin, more than her falsehood, more than the shattering of his +ideal. + +With a passionate desire for his safety, she had sacrificed herself in +order to atone for the material evil which she had done. + +But there was the wreck of his hopes and of his dreams! + +Never until now, when he had irretrievably lost her, did Deroulede +realise how great had been his hopes; how he had watched day after day +for a look in her eyes, a word from her lips, to show him that she too +--his unattainable saint--would one day come to earth, and respond to +his love. + +And now and then, when her beautiful face lighted up at sight of him, +when she smiled a greeting to him on his return from his work, when she +looked with pride and admiration on him from the public bench in the +assemblies of the Convention--then he had begun to hope, to think, to +dream. + +And it was all a sham! A mask to hide the terrible conflict that was +raging within her soul, nothing more. + +She did not love him, of that he felt convinced. Man like, he did not +understand to the full that great and wonderful enigma, which has +puzzled the world since primeval times: a woman's heart. + +The eternal contradictions which go to make up the complex nature of an +emotional woman were quite incomprehensible to him. Juliette had +betrayed him to serve her own sense of what was just and right, her +revenge and her oath. Therefore she did not love him. + +It was logic, sound common-sense, and, aided by his own diffidence where +women were concerned, it seemed to him irrefutable. + +To a man like Paul Deroulede, a man of thought, of purpose, and of +action, the idea of being false to the thing loved, of hate and love +being interchangeable, was absolutely foreign and unbelievable. He had +never hated the thing he loved or loved the thing he hated. A man's +feelings in these respects are so much less complex, so much less +contradictory. + +Would a man betray his friend? No--never. He might betray his enemy, the +creature he abhorred, whose downfall would cause him joy. But his +friend? The very idea was repugnant, impossible to an upright nature. + +Juliette's ultimate access of generosity in trying to save him, when she +was at last brought face to face with the terrible wrong she had +committed, _that_ he put down to one of those noble impulses of which he +knew her soul to be fully capable, and even then his own diffidence +suggested that she did it more for the sake of his mother or for Anne +Mie rather than for him. + +Therefore what mattered life to him now? She was lost to him for ever, +whether he succeeded in snatching her from the guillotine or not. He had +but little hope to save her, but he would not owe his life to her. + +Anne Mie, seeing him wrapped in his own thoughts, had quietly withdrawn. +Her own good sense told her already that Paul Deroulede's first step +would be to try and get his mother out of danger, and out of the +country, while there was yet time. + +So, without waiting for instructions, she began that same evening to +pack up her belongings and those of Madame Deroulede. + +There was no longer any hatred in her heart against Juliette. Where Paul +Deroulede had failed to understand, there Anne Mie had already made a +guess. She firmly believed that nothing now could save Juliette from +death, and a great feeling of tenderness had crept into her heart, for +the woman whom she had looked upon as an enemy and a rival. + +She too had learnt in those brief days the great lesson that revenge +belongs to God alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +The Cheval Borgne. + + +It was close upon midnight. + +The place had become suffocatingly hot; the fumes of rank tobacco, of +rancid butter, and of raw spirits hung like a vapour in mid-air. + +The principal room in the "Auberge du Cheval Borgne" had been used for +the past five years now as the chief meeting-place of the +ultra-sansculotte party of the Republic. + +The house itself was squalid and dirty, up one of those mean streets +which, by their narrow way and shelving buildings, shut out sun, air, +and light from their miserable inhabitants. + +The Cheval Borgne was one of the most wretched-looking dwellings in this +street of evil repute. The plaster was cracked, the walls themselves +seemed bulging outward, preparatory to a final collapse. The ceilings +were low, and supported by beams black with age and dirt. + +At one time it had been celebrated for its vast cellarage, which had +contained some rare old wines. And in the days of the Grand Monarch +young bucks were wont to quit the gay salons of the ladies, in order to +repair to the Cheval Borgne for a night's carouse. + +In those days the vast cellarage was witness of many a dark encounter, +of many a mysterious death; could the slimy walls have told their own +tale, it would have been one which would have put to shame the wildest +chronicles of M. Vidoq. + +Now it was no longer so. + +Things were done in broad daylight on the Place de la Revolution: there +was no need for dark, mysterious cellars, in which to accomplish deeds +of murder and of revenge. + +Rats and vermin of all sorts worked their way now in the underground +portion of the building. They ate up each other, and held their orgies +in the cellars, whilst men did the same sort of thing in the rooms +above. + +It was a club of Equality and Fraternity. Any passer-by was at liberty +to enter and take part in the debates, his only qualification for this +temporary membership being an inordinate love for Madame la Guillotine. + +It was from the sordid rooms of the Cheval Borgne that most of the +denunciations had gone forth which led but to the one inevitable +ending--death. + +They sat in conclave here, some twoscore or so at first, the rabid +patriots of this poor, downtrodden France. They talked of Liberty +mostly, with many oaths and curses against the tyrants, and then started +a tyranny, an autocracy, ten thousand times more awful than any wielded +by the dissolute Bourbons. + +And this was the temple of Liberty, this dark, damp, evil-smelling +brothel, with is narrow, cracked window-panes, which let in but an +infinitesimal fraction of air, and that of the foulest, most unwholesome +kind. + +The floor was of planks roughly put together; now they were worm-eaten, +bare, save for a thick carpet of greasy dust, which deadened the sound +of booted feet. The place only boasted of a couple of chairs, both of +which had to be propped against the wall lest they should break, and +bring the sitter down upon the floor; otherwise a number of empty wine +barrels did duty for seats, and rough deal boards on broken trestles for +tables. + +There had once been a paper on the walls, now it hung down in strips, +showing the cracked plaster beneath. The whole place had a tone of +yellowish-grey grime all over it, save where, in the centre of the room, +on a rough double post, shaped like the guillotine, a scarlet cap of +Liberty gave a note of lurid colour to the dismal surroundings. + +On the walls here and there the eternal device, so sublime in +conception, so sordid in execution, recalled the aims of the so-called +club: "Liberte, Fraternite, Egalite, sinon la Mort." + +Below the device, in one or two corners of the room, the wall was +further adorned with rough charcoal sketches, mostly of an obscene +character, the work of one of the members of the club, who had chosen +this means of degrading his art. + +To-night the assembly had been reduced to less than a score. + +Even according to the dictates of these apostles of Fraternity: _"la +guillotine va toujours"_--the guillotine goes on always. She had become +the most potent factor in the machinery of government, of this great +Revolution, and she had been daily, almost hourly fed through the +activity of this nameless club, which held its weird and awesome +sittings in the dank coffee-room of the Cheval Borgne. + +The number of the active members had been reduced. Like the rats in the +cellars below, they had done away with one another, swallowed one +another up, torn each other to pieces in this wild rage for a Utopian +fraternity. + +Marat, founder of the organisation, had been murdered by a girl's hand; +but Charon, Manuel, Osselin had gone the usual way, denounced by their +colleagues, Rabaut, Custine, Bison, who in their turn were sent to the +guillotine by those more powerful, perhaps more eloquent, than +themselves. + +It was merely a case of who could shout the loudest at an assembly of +the National Convention. + +_"La guillotine va toujours!"_ + +After the death of Marat, Merlin became the most prominent member of the +club--he and Foucquier-Tinville, his bosom friend, Public Prosecutor, +and the most bloodthirsty homicide of this homicidal age. + +Bosom friend both, yet they worked against one another, undermining each +other's popularity, whispering persistently, one against the other: "He +is a traitor!" It had become just a neck-to-neck race between them +towards the inevitable goal--the guillotine. + +Foucquier-Tinville is in the ascendant for the moment. Merlin had been +given a task which he had failed to accomplish. For days now, weeks +even, the debates of this noble assembly had been chiefly concerned with +the downfall of Citizen-Deputy Deroulede. His popularity, his calm +security in the midst of this reign of terror and anarchy, had been a +terrible thorn in the flesh of these rabid Jacobins. + +And now the climax had been reached. An anonymous denunciation had +roused the hopes of these sanguinary patriots. It all sounded perfectly +plausible. To try and save that traitor, Marie Antoinette, the widow of +Louis Capet, was just the sort of scheme that would originate in the +brain of Paul Deroulede. + +He had always been at heart an aristocrat, and the feeling of chivalry +for a persecuted woman was only the outward signs of his secret +adherence to the hated class. + +Merlin had been sent to search the Deputy's house for proofs of the +latter's guilt. + +And Merlin had come back empty-handed. + +The arrest of a female aristo--the probable mistress of Deroulede, who +obviously had denounced him--was but small compensation for the failure +of the more important capture. + +As soon as Merlin joined his friends in the low, ill-lit, evil-smelling +room he realised at once that there was a feeling of hostility against +him. + +Tinville, enthroned on one of the few chairs of which the Cheval Borgne +could boast, was surrounded by a group of surly adherents. + +On the rough trestles a number of glasses, half filled with raw +potato-spirit, gave the keynote to the temper of the assembly. + +All those present were dressed in the black-shag spencer, the seedy +black breeches, and down-at-heel boots, which had become recognised as +the distinctive uniform of the sansculotte party. The inevitable +Phrygian cap, with its tricolour cockade, appeared on the heads of all +those present, in various stages of dirt and decay. + +Tinville had chosen to assume a sarcastic tone with regard to his whilom +bosom friend, Merlin. Leaning both elbows on the table, he was picking +his teeth with a steel fork, and in the intervals of his interesting +operation, gave forth his views on the broad principles of patriotism. + +Those who sat round him felt that his star was in the ascendant and +assumed the position of satellites. Merlin as he entered had grunted a +sullen "Good-eve," and sat himself down in a remote corner of the room. + +His greeting had been responded to with a few jeers and a good many +dark, threatening looks. Tinville himself had bowed to him with mock +sarcasm and an unpleasant leer. + +One of the patriots, a huge fellow, almost a giant, with heavy, coarse +fists and broad shoulders that obviously suggested coal-heaving, had, +after a few satirical observations, dragged one of the empty wine +barrels to Merlin's table, and sat down opposite him. + +"Take care, Citizen Lenoir," said Tinville, with an evil laugh, +"Citizen-Deputy Merlin will arrest you instead of Deputy Deroulede, whom +he has allowed to slip through his fingers." + +"Nay; I've no fear," replied Lenoir, with an oath. "Citizen Merlin is +too much of an aristo to hurt anyone; his hands are too clean; he does +not care to do the dirty work of the Republic. Isn't that so, Monsieur +Merlin?" added the giant, with a mock bow, and emphasising the +appellation which had fallen into complete disuse in these days of +equality. + +"My patriotism is too well known," said Merlin roughly, "to fear any +attacks from jealous enemies; and as for my search in the +Citizen-Deputy's house this afternoon, I was told to find proofs against +him, and I found none." + +Lenoir expectorated on the floor, crossed his dark hairy arms over the +table, and said quietly: + +"Real patriotism, as the true Jacobin understands it, makes the proofs +it wants and leaves nothing to chance." + +A chorus of hoarse murmurs of "Vive la Liberte!" greeted this harangue +of the burly coal-heaver. + +Feeling that he had gained the ear and approval of the gallery, Lenoir +seemed, as it were, to spread himself out, to arrogate to himself the +leadership of this band of malcontents, who, disappointed in their lust +of Deroulede's downfall, were ready to exult over that of Merlin. + +"You were a fool, Citizen Merlin," said Lenoir with slow significance, +"not to see that the woman was playing her own game." + +Merlin had become livid under the grime on his face. With this ill-kempt +sansculotte giant in front of him, he almost felt as if he were already +arraigned before that awful, merciless tribunal, to which he had dragged +so many innocent victims. + +Already he felt, as he sat ensconced behind a table in the far corner of +the room, that he was a prisoner at the bar, answering for his failure +with his life. + +His own laws, his own theories now stood in bloody array against him. +Was it not he who had framed the indictments against General Custine for +having failed to subdue the cities of the south? against General +Westerman and Brunet and Beauharnais for having failed and failed and +failed? + +And now it was his turn. + +These bloodthirsty jackals had been cheated of their prey; they would +tear him to pieces in compensation of their loss. + +"How could I tell?" he murmured roughly, "the woman had denounced him." + +A chorus of angry derision greeted this feeble attempt at defence. + +"By your own law, Citizen-Deputy Merlin," commented Tinville +sarcastically, "it is a crime against the Republic to be suspected of +treason. It is evident, however, that it is quite one thing to frame a +law and quite another to obey it." + +"What could I have done?" + +"Hark at the innocent!" rejoined Lenoir, with a sneer. "What could he +have done? Patriots, friends, brothers, I ask you, what could he have +done?" + +The giant had pushed the wine cask aside, it rolled away from under him, +and in the fulness of his contempt for Merlin and his impotence, he +stood up before them all, strong in his indictment against treasonable +incapacity. + +"I ask you," he repeated, with a loud oath, "what any patriot would do, +what you or I would have done, in the house of a man whom we all _know_ +is a traitor to the Republic? Brothers, friends, Citizen-Deputy Merlin +found a heap of burn paper in a grate, he found a letter-case which had +obviously contained important documents, and he asks us what he could +do!" + +"Deroulede is too important a man to be tried without proofs. The whole +mob of Paris would have turned on us for having arraigned him, for +having dared lay hands upon his sacred person." + +"Without proofs? Who said there were no proofs?" queried Lenoir. + +"I found the burnt papers and torn letter-case in the woman's room. She +owned that they were love letters, and that she had denounced Deroulede +in order to be rid of him." + +"Then let me tell you, Citizen-Deputy Merlin, that a true patriot would +have found those papers in Deroulede's, and not the woman's room; that +in the hands of a faithful servant of the Republic those documents would +not all have been destroyed, for he would have 'found' one letter +addressed to the Widow Capet, which would have proved conclusively that +Citizen-Deputy Deroulede was a traitor. That is what a true patriot +would have done--what I would have done. _Pardi!_ since Deroulede is so +important a personage, since we must all put on kid gloves when we lay +hands upon him, then let us fight him with other weapons. Are we +aristocrats that we should hesitate to play the part of jackal to this +cunning fox? Citizen-Deputy Merlin, are you the son of some ci-devant +duke or prince that you dared not _forge_ a document which would bring a +traitor to his doom? Nay; let me tell you, friends, that the Republic +has no use for curs, and calls him a traitor who allows one of her +enemies to remain inviolate through his cowardice, his terror of that +intangible and fleeting shadow--the wrath of a Paris mob." + +Thunderous applause greeted this peroration, which had been delivered +with an accompaniment of violent gestures and a wealth of obscene +epithets, quite beyond the power of the mere chronicler to render. +Lenoir had a harsh, strident voice, very high pitched, and he spoke with +a broad, provincial accent, somewhat difficult to locate, but quite +unlike the hoarse, guttural tones of the low-class Parisian. His +enthusiasm made him seem impressive. He looked, in his ragged, +dust-stained clothes, the very personification of the squalid herd which +had driven culture, art, refinement to the scaffold in order to make way +for sordid vice, and satisfied lusts of hate. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A Jacobin orator. + + +Tinville alone had remained silent during Lenoir's impassioned speech. +It seemed to be his turn now to become surly. He sat picking his teeth, +and staring moodily at the enthusiastic orator, who had so obviously +diverted popular feeling in his own direction. And Tinville brooked +popularity only for himself. + +"It is easy to talk now, Citizen--er--Lenoir. Is that your name? Well, +you are a comparative stranger here, Citizen Lenoir, and have not yet +proved to the Republic that you can do ought else but talk." + +"If somebody did not talk, Citizen Tinville--is that your name?" +rejoined Lenoir, with a sneer--"if somebody didn't talk, nothing would +get done. You all sit here, and condemn the Citizen-Deputy Merlin for +being a fool, and I must say I am with you there, but ..." + +"_Pardi!_ tell us your 'but' citizen," said Tinville, for the +coal-heaver had paused, as if trying to collect his thoughts. He had +dragged a wine barrel to collect his thoughts. He had dragged a wine +barrel close to the trestle table, and now sat astride upon it, facing +Tinville and the group of Jacobins. The flickering tallow candle behind +him threw into bold silhouette his square, massive head, crowned with +its Phrygian cap, and the great breadth of his shoulders, with the +shabby knitted spencer and low, turned-down collar. + +He had long, thin hands, which were covered with successive coats of +coal dust, and with these he constantly made weird gestures, as if in +the act of gripping some live thing by the throat. + +"We all know that the Deputy Deroulede is a traitor, eh?" he said, +addressing the company in general. + +"We do," came with uniform assent from all those present. + +"Then let us put it to the vote. The Ayes mean death, the Noes freedom." + +"Ay, ay!" came from every hoarse, parched throat; and twelve gaunt hand +were lifted up demanding death for Citizen-Deputy Deroulede. + +"The Ayes have it," said Lenoir quietly, "Now all we need do is to +decide how best to carry out our purpose." + +Merlin, very agreeably surprised to see public attention thus diverted +from his own misdeeds, had gradually lost his surly attitude. He too +dragged one of the wine barrels, which did duty for chairs, close to the +trestle table, and thus the members of the nameless Jacobin club made a +compact group, picturesque in its weird horror, its uncompromising, +flaunting ugliness. + +"I suppose," said Tinville, who was loth to give up his position as +leader of these extremists--"I suppose, Citizen Lenoir, that you are in +position to furnish me with proofs of the Citizen-Deputy's guilt?" + +"If I furnish you with such proofs, Citizen Tinville," retorted the +other, "will you, as Public Prosecutor, carry the indictment through?" + +"It is my duty to publicly accuse those who are traitors to the +Republic." + +"And you, Citizen Merlin," queried Lenoir, "will you help the Republic +to the best of your ability to be rid of a traitor?" + +"My services to the cause of our great Revolution are too well known-" +began Merlin. + +But Lenoir interrupted him with impatience. + +"_Pardi!_but we'll have no rhetoric now, Citizen Merlin. We all know +that you have blundered, and that the Republic cares little for those of +her sons who have failed, but whilst you are still Minister of Justice +the people of France have need of you--for bringing _other_ traitors to +the guillotine." + +He spoke this last phrase slowly and significantly, lingering on the +word "other," as if he wished its whole awesome meaning to penetrate +well into Merlin's brain. + +"What is your advice then, Citizen Lenoir?" + +Apparently, by unanimous consent, the coalheaver, from some obscure +province of France, had been tacitly acknowledged the leader of the +band. Merlin, still in terror for himself, looked to him for advice; +even Tinville was ready to be guided by him. All were at one in their +desire to rid themselves of Deroulede, who by his clean living, his +aloofness from their own hideous orgies and deadly hates, seemed a +living reproach to them all; and they all felt that in Lenoir there must +exist some secret dislike of the popular Citizen-Deputy, which would +give him a clear insight of how best to bring about his downfall. + +"What is your advice?" had been Merlin's query, and everyone there +listened eagerly for what was to come. + +"We are all agreed," commenced Lenoir quietly, "that just at this moment +it would be unwise to arraign the Citizen-Deputy without material proof. +The mob of Paris worship him, and would turn against those who had tried +to dethrone their idol. Now, Citizen Merlin failed to furnish us with +proofs of Deroulede's guilt. For the moment he is a free man, and I +imagine a wise one; within two days he will have quitted this country, +well knowing that, if he stayed long enough to see his popularity wane, +he would also outstay his welcome on earth altogether." + +"Ay! Ay!" said some of the men approvingly, whilst others laughed +hoarsely at the weird jest. + +"I propose, therefore," continued Lenoir after a slight pause, "that it +shall be Citizen-Deputy Deroulede himself who shall furnish to the +people of France proofs of his own treason against the Republic." + +"But how? But how?" rapid, loud and excited queries greeted this +extraordinary suggestion from the provincial giant. + +"By the simplest means imaginable," retorted Lenoir with imperturbable +calm. "Isn't there a good proverb which our grandmothers used to quote, +that if you only give a man a sufficient length of rope, he is sure to +hang himself? We'll give our aristocratic Citizen-Deputy plenty of rope, +I'll warrant, if only our present Minister of Justice," he added, +indicating Merlin, "will help us in the little comedy which I propose +that we should play." + +"Yes! Yes! Go on!" said Merlin excitedly. + +"The woman who denounced Deroulede--that is our trump card," continued +Lenoir, now waxing enthusiastic with his own scheme and his own +eloquence. "She denounced him. Ergo, he had been her lover, whom she +wished to be rid of--why? Not, as Citizen Merlin supposed, because he +had discarded her. No, no; she had another lover--she has admitted that. +She wished to be rid of Deroulede to make way for the other, because he +was too persistent--ergo, because he loved her." + +"Well, and what does that prove?" queried Tinville with dry sarcasm. + +"It proves that Deroulede, being in love with the woman, would do much +to save her from the guillotine." + +"Of course." + +"_Pardi!_ let him try, say I," rejoined Lenoir placidly. "Give him the +rope with which to hang himself." + +"What does he mean?" asked one or two of the men, whose dull brains had +not quite as yet grasped the full meaning of this monstrous scheme. + +"You don't understand what I mean, citizens; you think I am mad, or +drunk, or a traitor like Deroulede? _Eh bien!_ give me your attention +five minutes longer, and you shall see. Let me suppose that we have +reached the moment when the woman--what is her name? Oh! ah! yes! +Juliette Marny--stands in the Hall of Justice on her trial before the +Committee of Public Safety. Citizen Foucquier-Tinville, one of our +greatest patriots, reads the indictment against her: the papers +surreptitiously burnt, the torn, mysterious letter-case found in her +room. If these are presumed, in the indictment, to be treasonable +correspondence with the enemies of the Republic, condemnation follows at +once, then the guillotine. There is no defence, no respite. The Minister +of Justice, according to Article IX of the Law framed by himself, allows +no advocate to those directly accused of treason. But," continued the +giant, with slow and calm impressiveness, "in the case of ordinary, +civil indictments, offences against public morality or matters +pertaining to the penal code, the Minister of Justice allows the accused +to be publicly defended. Place Juliette Marny in the dock on a +treasonable charge, she will be hustled out of the court in a few +minutes, amongst a batch of other traitors, dragged back to her own +prison, and executed in the early dawn, before Deroulede has had time to +frame a plan for her safety or defence. If, then, he tries to move +heaven and earth to rescue the woman he loves, the mob of Paris +may,--who knows?--take his part warmly. They are mad where Deroulede is +concerned; and we all know that two devoted lovers have ere now found +favour with the people of France--a curious remnant of sentimentalism, I +suppose--and the popular Citizen-Deputy knows better than anyone else on +earth, how to play upon the sentimental feelings of the populace. Now, +in the case of a penal offence, mark where the difference would be! The +woman Juliette Marny, arraigned for wantonness, for an offence against +public morals; the burnt correspondence, admitted to be the letters of a +lover--her hatred for Deroulede suggesting the false denunciation. Then +the Minister of Justice allows an advocate to defend her. She has none +in court; but think you Deroulede would not step forward, and bring all +the fervour of his eloquence to bear in favour of his mistress? Can you +hear his impassioned speech on her behalf?--I can--the rope, I tell you, +citizens, with which he'll hang himself. Will he admit in open court +that the burnt correspondence was another lover's letters? No!--a +thousand times no!--and, in the face of his emphatic denial of the +existence of another lover for Juliette, it will be for our clever +Public Prosecutor to bring him down to an admission that the +correspondence was his, that it was treasonable, that she burnt them to +save him." + +He paused, exhausted at last, mopping his forehead, then drinking large +gulps of brandy to ease his parched throat. + +A veritable chorus of enthusiasm greeted the end of his long peroration. +The Machiavelian scheme, almost devilish in its cunning, in its subtle +knowledge of human nature and of the heart-strings of a noble +organisation like Deroulede's, commended itself to these patriots, who +were thirsting for the downfall of a superior enemy. + +Even Tinville lost his attitude of dry sarcasm; his thin cheeks were +glowing with the lust of the fight. + +Already for the past few months, the trials before the Committee of +Public Safety had been dull, monotonous, uninteresting. Charlotte Corday +had been a happy diversion, but otherwise it had been the case of +various deputies, who had held views that had become too moderate, or of +the generals who had failed to subdue the towns or provinces of the +south. + +But now this trial on the morrow--the excitement of it all, the trap +laid for Deroulede, the pleasure of seeing him take the first step +towards his own downfall. Everyone there was eager and enthusiastic for +the fray. Lenoir, having spoken at such length, had now become silent, +but everyone else talked, and drank brandy, and hugged his own hate and +likely triumph. + +For several hours, far into the night, the sitting was continued. Each +one of the score of members had some comment to make on Lenoir's speech, +some suggestion to offer. + +Lenoir himself was the first to break up this weird gathering of human +jackals, already exulting over their prey. He bad his companions a quiet +good-night, then passed out into the dark street. + +After he had gone there were a few seconds of complete silence in the +dark and sordid room, where men's ugliest passions were holding absolute +sway. The giant's heavy footsteps echoed along the ill-paved street, and +gradually died away in the distance. + +Then at last Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Prosecutor, spoke: + +"And who is that man?" he asked, addressing the assembly of patriots. + +Most of them did not know. + +"A provincial from the north," said one of the men at last; "he has been +here several times before now, and last year he was a fairly constant +attendant. I believe he is a butcher by trade, and I fancy he comes from +Calais. He was originally brought here by Citizen Brogard, who is good +patriot enough." + +One by one the members of this bond of Fraternity began to file out of +the Cheval Borgne. They nodded curt good-nights to each other, and then +went to their respective abodes, which surely could not be dignified +with the name of home. + +Tinville remained one of the last; he and Merlin seemed suddenly to have +buried the hatchet, which a few hours ago had threatened to destroy one +or the other of these whilom bosom friends. + +Two or three of the most ardent of these ardent extremists had gathered +round the Public Prosecutor, and Merlin, the framer of the Law of the +Suspect. + +"What say you, citizens?" said Tinville at last quietly. "That man +Lenoir, meseems, is too eloquent--eh?" + +"Dangerous," pronounced Merlin, whilst the others nodded approval. + +"But his scheme is good," suggested one of the men. + +"And we'll avail ourselves of it," assented Tinville, "but afterwards +..." + +He paused, and once more everyone nodded approval. + +"Yes; he is dangerous. We'll leave him in peace to-morrow, but +afterwards ..." + +With a gentle hand Tinville caressed the tall double post, which stood +in the centre of the room, and which was shaped like the guillotine. An +evil look was on his face: the grin of a death-dealing monster, savage +and envious. The others laughed in grim content. Merlin grunted a surly +approval. He had no cause to love the provincial coal-heaver who had +raised a raucous voice to threaten him. + +Then, nodding to one another, the last of the patriots, satisfied with +this night's work, passed out into the night. + +The watchman was making his rounds, carrying his lantern, and shouting +his customary cry: + +"Inhabitants of Paris, sleep quietly. Everything is in order, everything +is at peace." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +The close of day. + + +Deroulede had spent the whole of this same night in a wild, impassioned +search for Juliette. + +Earlier in the day, soon after Anne Mie's revelations, he had sought out +his English friend, Sir Percy Blakeney, and talked over with him the +final arrangements for the removal of Madame Deroulede and Anne Mie from +Paris. + +Though he was a born idealist and a Utopian, Paul Deroulede had never +for a moment had any illusions with regard to his own popularity. He +knew that at any time, and for any trivial cause, the love which the mob +bore him would readily turn to hate. He had seen Mirabeau's popularity +wane, La Fayette's, Desmoulin's--was it likely that _he_ alone would +survive the inevitable death of so ephemeral a thing? + +Therefore, whilst he was in power, whilst he was loved and trusted, he +had, figuratively and actually, put his house in order. He had made full +preparations for his own inevitable downfall, for that probable flight +from Paris of those who were dependent upon him. + +He had, as far back as a year ago, provided himself with the necessary +passports, and bespoken with his English friend certain measures for the +safety of his mother and his crippled little relative. Now it was merely +a question of putting these measures into execution. + +Within two hours of Juliette Marny's arrest, Madame Deroulede and Anne +Mie had quitted the house in the Rue Ecole de Medecine. They had but +little luggage with them, and were ostensibly going into the country to +visit a sick cousin. + +The mother of the popular Citizen-Deputy was free to travel unmolested. +The necessary passports which the safety of the Republic demanded were +all in perfect order, and Madame Deroulede and Anne Mie passed through +the north gate of Paris an hour before sunset, on that 24th day of +Fructidor. + +Their large travelling chaise took them some distance on the North Road, +where they were to meet Lord Hastings and Lord Anthony Dewhurst, two of +The Scarlet Pimpernel's most trusted lieutenants, who were to escort +them as far as the coast, and thence see them safely aboard the English +yacht. + +On that score, therefore, Deroulede had no anxiety. His chief duty was +to his mother and to Anne Mie, and that was now fully discharged. + +Then there was old Petronelle. + +Ever since the arrest of her young mistress the poor old soul had been +in a state of mind bordering on frenzy, and no amount of eloquence on +Deroulede's part would persuade her to quit Paris without Juliette. + +"If my pet lamb is to die," she said amidst heart-broken sobs, "then I +have no cause to live. Let those devils take me along too, if they want +a useless, old woman like me. But if my darling is allowed to go free, +then what would become of her in this awful city without me? She and I +have never been separated; she wouldn't know where to turn for a home. +And who would cook for her and iron out her kerchiefs, I'd like to +know?" + +Reason and common sense were, of course, powerless in face of this +sublime and heroic childishness. No one had the heart to tell the old +woman that the murderous dog of the Revolution seldom loosened its +fangs, once they had closed upon a victim. + +All Deroulede could do was to convey Petronelle to the old abode, which +Juliette had quitted in order to come to him, and which had never been +formally given up. The worthy soul, calmed and refreshed, deluded +herself into the idea that she was waiting for the return of her young +mistress, and became quite cheerful at sight of the familiar room. + +Deroulede had provided her with money and necessaries. He had but few +remaining hopes in his heart, but among them was the firmly implanted +one that Petronelle was too insignificant to draw upon herself the +terrible attention of the Committee of Public Safety. + +By the nightfall he had seen the good woman safely installed. Then only +did he feel free. + +At last he could devote himself to what seemed to him the one, the only, +aim of his life--to find Juliette. + +A dozen prisons in this vast Paris! + +Over five thousand prisoners on that night, awaiting trial, condemnation +and death. + +Deroulede at first, strong in his own power, his personality, had +thought that the task would be comparatively easy. + +At the Palais de Justice they would tell him nothing: the list of new +arrests had not yet been handled in by the commandant of Paris, Citizen +Santerre, who classified and docketed the miserable herd of aspirants +for the next day's guillotine. + +The lists, moreover, would not be completed until the next day, when the +trials of the new prisoners would already be imminent. + +The work of the Committee of Public Safety was done without much delay. + +Then began Deroulede's weary quest through those twelve prisons of +Paris. From the Temple to the Conciergerie, from Palais Conde to the +Luxembourg, he spent hours in the fruitless search. + +Everywhere the same shrug of the shoulders, the same indifferent reply +to his eager query: + +"Juliette Marny? _Inconnue._" + +Unknown! She had not yet been docketed, not yet classified; she was +still one of that immense flock of cattle, sent in ever-increasing +numbers to the slaughter-house. + +Presently, to-morrow, after a trial which might last ten minutes, after +a hasty condemnation and quick return to prison, she would be listed as +one of the traitors, whom this great and beneficent Republic sent daily +to the guillotine. + +Vainly did Deroulede try to persuade, to entreat, to bribe. The sullen +guardians of these twelve charnel-houses knew nothing of individual +prisoners. + +But the Citizen-Deputy was allowed to look for himself. He was conducted +to the great vaulted rooms of the Temple, to the vast ballrooms of the +Palais Conde, where herded the condemned and those still awaiting trial; +he was allowed to witness there the grim farcical tragedies, with which +the captives beguiled the few hours which separated them from death. + +Mock trials were acted there; Tinville was mimicked; then the Place de +la Revolution; Samson the headsman, with a couple of inverted chairs to +represent the guillotine. + +Daughters of dukes and princes, descendants of ancient lineage, acted in +these weird and ghastly comedies. The ladies, with hair bound high over +their heads, would kneel before the inverted chairs, and place the +snowwhite necks beneath this imaginary guillotine. Speeches were +delivered to a mock populace, whilst a mock Santerre ordered a mock roll +of drums to drown the last flow of eloquence of the supposed victim. + +Oh! the horror of it all--the pity, pathos, and misery of this ghastly +parody, in the very face of the sublimity of death! + +Deroulede shuddered when first he beheld the scene, shuddered at the +very thought of finding Juliette amongst these careless, laughing, +thoughtless mimes. + +His own, his beautiful Juliette, with her proud face and majestic, +queen-like gestures; it was a relief not to see her there. + +"Juliette Marny? _Inconnue,_" was the final word he heard about her. + +No one told him that by Deputy Merlin's strictest orders she had been +labelled "dangerous," and placed in a remote wing of the Luxembourg +Palace, together with a few, who, like herself, were allowed to see no +one, communicate with no one. + +Then when the _couvre-feu_ had sounded, when all public places were +closed, when the night watchman had begun his rounds, Deroulede knew +that his quest for that night must remain fruitless. + +But he could not rest. In and out the tortuous streets of Paris he +roamed during the better part of that night. He was now only awaiting +the dawn to publicly demand the right to stand beside Juliette. + +A hopeless misery was in his heart, a longing for a cessation of life; +only one thing kept his brain active, his mind clear: the hope of saving +Juliette. + +The dawn was breaking in the far east when, wandering along the banks of +the river, he suddenly felt a touch on his arm. + +"Come to my hovel," said a pleasant, lazy voice close to his ear, whilst +a kindly hand seemed to drag him away from the contemplation of the +dark, silent river. "And a demmed, beastly place it is too, but at least +we can talk quietly there." + +Deroulede, roused from his meditation, looked up, to see his friend, Sir +Percy Blakeney, standing close beside him. Tall, debonnair, +well-dressed, he seemed by his very presence to dissipate the morbid +atmosphere which was beginning to weigh upon Deroulede's active mind. + +Deroulede followed him readily enough through, the intricate mazes of +old Paris, and down the Rue des Arts, until Sir Percy stopped outside a +small hostelry, the door of which stood wide open. + +"Mine host has nothing to lose from footpads and thieves," explained the +Englishman as he guided his friend through the narrow doorway, then up a +flight of rickety stairs, to a small room on the floor above. "He leaves +all doors open for anyone to walk in, but, la! the interior of the house +looks so uninviting that no one is tempted to enter." + +"I wonder you care to stay here," remarked Deroulede, with a momentary +smile, as he contrasted in his mind the fastidious appearance of his +friend with the dinginess and dirt of these surroundings. + +Sir Percy deposited his large person in the capacious depths of a creaky +chair, stretched his long limbs out before him, and said quietly: + +"I am only staying in this demmed hole until the moment when I can drag +you out of this murderous city." + +Deroulede shook his head. + +"You'd best go back to England, then," he said, "for I'll never leave +Paris now." + +"Not without Juliette Marny, shall we say?" rejoined Sir Percy placidly. + +"And I fear me that she has placed herself beyond our reach," said +Deroulede sombrely. + +"You know that she is in the Luxembourg Prison?" queried the Englishman +suddenly. + +"I guessed it, but could find no proof." + +"And that she will be tried to-morrow?" + +"They never keep a prisoner pining too long," replied Deroulede +bitterly. "I guessed that too." + +"What do you mean to do?" + +"Defend her with the last breath in my body." + +"You love her still, then?" asked Blakeney, with a smile. + +"Still?" The look, the accent, the agony of a hopeless passion conveyed +in that one word, told Sir Percy Blakeney all that he wished to know. + +"Yet she betrayed you," he said tentatively. + +"And to atone for that sin--an oath, mind you, friend, sworn to her +father--she is already to give her life for me." + +"And you are prepared to forgive?" + +"To understand _is_ to forgive," rejoined Deroulede simply, "and I love +her." + +"Your madonna!" said Blakeney, with a gently ironical smile. + +"No; the woman I love, with all her weaknesses, all her sins; the woman +to gain whom I would give my soul, to save whom I will give my life." + +"And she?" + +"She does not love me--would she have betrayed me else?" + +He sat beside the table, and buried his head in his hands. Not even his +dearest friend should see how much he had suffered, how deeply his love +had been wounded. + +Sir Percy said nothing, a curious, pleasant smile lurked round the +corners of his mobile mouth. Through his mind there flitted the vision +of beautiful Marguerite, who had so much loved yet so deeply wronged +him, and, looking at his friend, he thought that Deroulede too would +soon learn all the contradictions, which wage a constant war in the +innermost recesses of a feminine heart. + +He made a movement as if he would say something more, something of grave +import, then seemed to think better of it, and shrugged his broad +shoulders, as if to say: + +"Let time and chance take their course now." + +When Deroulede looked up again Sir Percy was sitting placidly in the +arm-chair, with an absolutely blank expression on his face. + +"Now that you know how much I love her, my friend," said Deroulede as +soon as he had mastered his emotions, "will you look after her when they +have condemned me, and save her for my sake?" + +A curious, enigmatic smile suddenly illumined Sir Percy's earnest +countenance. + +"Save her? Do you attribute supernatural powers to me, then, or to The +League of The Scarlet Pimpernel?" + +"To you, I think," rejoined Deroulede seriously. + +Once more it seemed as if Sir Percy were about to reveal something of +great importance to his friend, then once more he checked himself. The +Scarlet Pimpernel was, above all, far-seeing and practical, a man of +action and not of impulse. The glowing eyes of his friend, his nervous, +febrile movements, did not suggest that he was in a fit state to be +entrusted with plans, the success of which hung on a mere thread. + +Therefore Sir Percy only smiled, and said quietly: + +"Well, I'll do my best." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Justice. + + +The day had been an unusually busy one. + +Five and thirty prisoners, arraigned before the bar of the Committee of +Public Safety, had been tried in the last eight hours--an average of +rather more than four to the hour; twelve minutes and a half in which to +send a human creature, full of life and health, to solve the great +enigma which lies hidden beyond the waters of the Styx. + +And Citizen-Deputy Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Prosecutor, had +surpassed himself. He seemed indefatigable. + +Each of these five and thirty prisoners had been arraigned for treason +against the Republic, for conspiracy with her enemies, and all had to +have irrefutable proofs of their guilt brought before the Committee of +Public Safety. Sometimes a few letters, written to friends abroad, and +seized at the frontier; a word of condemnation of the measures of the +extremists; and expression of horror at the massacres on the Place de la +Revolution, where the guillotine creaked incessantly--these were +irrefutable proofs; or else perhaps a couple of pistols, or an old +family sword seized in the house of a peaceful citizen, would be brought +against a prisoner, as an irrefutable proof of his warlike dispositions +against the Republic. + +Oh! it was not difficult! + +Out of five and thirty indictments, Foucquier-Tinville had obtained +thirty convictions. + +No wonder his friends declared that he had surpassed himself. It had +indeed been a glorious day, and the glow of satisfaction as much as the +heat, caused the Public Prosecutors to mop his high, bony cranium before +he had adjourned for the much-needed respite for refreshment. + +The day's work was not yet done. + +The "politicals" had been disposed of, and there had been such an +accumulation of them recently that it was difficult to keep pace with +the arrests. + +And in the meanwhile the criminal record of the great city had not +diminished. Because men butchered one another in the name of Equality, +there were none the fewer among the Fraternity of thieves and petty +pilferers, of ordinary cut-throats and public wantons. + +And these too had to be dealt with by law. The guillotine was impartial, +and fell with equal velocity on the neck of the proud duke and the +gutter-born _fille de joie,_ on a descendant of the Bourbons and the +wastrel born in a brothel. + +The ministerial decrees favoured the proletariat. A crime against the +Republic was indefensible, but one against the individual was dealt +with, with all the paraphernalia of an elaborate administration of +justice. There were citizen judges and citizen advocates, and the +rabble, who crowded in to listen to the trials, acted as honorary jury. + +It was all thoroughly well done. The citizen criminals were given every +chance. + +The afternoon of this hot August day, one of the last of glorious +Fructidor, had begun to wane, and the shades of evening to slowly creep +into the long, bare room where this travesty of justice was being +administered. + +The Citizen-President sat at the extreme end of the room, on a rough +wooden bench, with a desk in front of him littered with papers. + +Just above him, on the bare, whitewashed wall, the words: "_La +Republique: une et indivisible,_" and below them the device: "_Liberte, +Egalite, Fraternite!_" + +To the right and left of the Citizen-President, four clerks were busy +making entries in that ponderous ledger, that amazing record of the +foulest crimes the world has ever known, the "_Bulletin du Tribunal +Revolutionnaire._" + +At present no one is speaking, and the grating of the clerks' quill pens +against the paper is the only sound which disturbs the silence of the +hall. + +In front of the President, on a bench lower than his, sits Citizen +Foucquier-Tinville, rested and refreshed, ready to take up his +occupation, for as many hours as his country demands it of him. + +On every desk a tallow candle, smoking and spluttering, throws a weird +light, and more weird shadows, on the faces of clerks and President, on +blank walls and ominous devices. + +In the centre of the room a platform surrounded by an iron railing is +ready for the accused. Just in front of it, from the tall, raftered +ceiling above, there hangs a small brass lamp, with a green _abat-jour._ + +Each side of the long, whitewashed walls there are three rows of +benches, beautiful old carved oak pews, snatched from Notre Dame and +from the Churches of St Eustache and St Germain l'Auxerrois. Instead of +the pious worshippers of mediaeval times, they now accommodate the +lookers-on of the grim spectacle of unfortunates, in their brief halt +before the scaffold. + +The front row of these benches is reserved for those citizen-deputies +who desire to be present at the debates of the Tribunal Revolutionnaire. +It is their privilege, almost their duty, as representatives of the +people, to see that the sittings are properly conducted. + +These benches are already well filled. At one end, on the left, Citizen +Merlin, Minister of Justice, sits; next to him Citizen-Minister Lebrun; +also Citizen Robespierre, still in the height of his ascendancy, and +watching the proceedings with those pale, watery eyes of his and that +curious, disdainful smile, which have earned for him the nickname of +"the sea-green incorruptible." + +Other well-known faces are there also, dimly outlined in the +fast-gathering gloom. But everyone notes Citizen-Deputy Deroulede, the +idol of the people, as he sits on the extreme end of a bench on the +right, with arms tightly folded across his chest, the light from the +hanging lamp falling straight on his dark head and proud, straight +brows, with the large, restless, eager eyes. + +Anon the Citizen-President rings a hand-bell, and there is a discordant +noise of hoarse laughter and loud curses, some pushing, jolting, and +swearing, as the general public is admitted into the hall. + +Heaven save us! What a rabble! Has humanity really such a scum? + +Women with a single ragged kirtle and shift, through the interstices of +which the naked, grime-covered flesh shows shamelessly: with bare legs, +and feet thrust into heavy sabots, hair dishevelled, and evil, +spirit-sodden faces: women without a semblance of womanhood, with +shrivelled, barren breasts, and dry, parched lips, that have never known +how to kiss. Women without emotion save that of hate, without desire, +save for the satisfaction of hunger and thirst, and lust for revenge +against their sisters less wretched, less unsexed than themselves. They +crowd in, jostling one another, swarming into the front rows of the +benches, where they can get a better view of the miserable victims about +to be pilloried before them. + +And the men without a semblance of manhood. Bent under the heavy care of +their own degradation, dead to pity, to love, to chivalry; dead to all +save an inordinate longing for the sight of blood. + +And God help them all! for there were the children too. Children--save +the mark!--with pallid, precocious little faces, pinched with the +ravages of starvation, gazing with dim, filmy eyes on this world of +rapacity and hideousness. Children who have seen death! + +Oh, the horror of it! Not beautiful, peaceful death, a slumber or a +dream, a loved parent or fond sister or brother lying all in white +amidst a wealth of flowers, but death in its most awesome aspect, +violent, lurid, horrible. + +And now they stare around them with eager, greedy eyes, awaiting the +amusement of the spectacle; gazing at the President, with his tall +Phrygian cap; at the clerks wielding their indefatigable quill pens, +writing, writing, writing; at the flickering lights, throwing clouds of +sooty smoke, up to the dark ceiling above. + +Then suddenly the eyes of one little mite--a poor, tiny midget not yet +in her teens--alight on Paul Deroulede's face, on the opposite side of +the rooms. + +"_Tiens!_ Papa Deroulede!" she says, pointing an attenuated little +finger across at him, and turning eagerly to those around her, her eyes +dilating in wishful recollection of a happy afternoon spent in Papa +Deroulede's house, with fine white bread to eat in plenty, and great +jars of foaming milk. + +He rouses himself from his apathy, and his great earnest eyes lose their +look of agonised misery, as he responds to the greeting of the little +one. + +For one moment--oh! a mere fraction of a second--the squalid faces, the +miserable, starved expressions of the crowd, soften at sight of him. +There is a faint murmur among the women, which perhaps God's recording +angel registered as a blessing. Who knows? + +Foucquier-Tinville suppresses a sneer, and the Citizen-President +impatiently rings his hand-bell again. + +"Bring forth the accused!" he commands in stentorian tones. + +There is a movement of satisfaction among the crowd, and the angel of +God is forced to hide his face again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +The trial of Juliette. + + +It is all indelibly placed on record in the "Bulletin du Tribunal +Revolutionnaire," under date 25th Fructidor, year I. of the Revolution. + +Anyone who cares may read, for the Bulletin is in the Archives of the +Bibliotheque Nationale of Paris. + +One by one the accused had been brought forth, escorted by two men of +the National Guard in ragged, stained uniforms of red, white, and blue; +they were then conducted to the small raised platform in the centre of +the hall, and made to listen to the charge brought against them by +Citizen Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Presecutor. + +They were petty charges mostly: pilfering, fraud, theft, occasionally +arson or manslaughter. One man, however, was arraigned for murder with +highway robbery, and a woman for the most ignoble traffic, which evil +feminine ingenuity could invent. + +These two were condemned to the guillotine, the others sent to the +galleys at Brest or Toulon--the forger along with the petty thief, the +housebreaker with the absconding clerk. + +There was no room in the prison for ordinary offences against the +criminal code; they were overfilled already with so-called traitors +against the Republic. + +Three women were sent to the penitentiary at the Salpetriere, and were +dragged out of the court shrilly protesting their innocence, and +followed by obscene jeers from the spectators on the benches. + +Then there was a momentary hush. + +Juliette Marny had been brought in. + +She was quite calm, and exquisitely beautiful, dressed in a plain grey +bodice and kirtle, with a black band round her slim waist and a soft +white kerchief folded across her bosom. Beneath the tiny, white cap her +golden hair appeared in dainty, curly profusion; her child-like, oval +face was very white, but otherwise quite serene. + +She seemed absolutely unconscious of her surroundings, and walked with a +firm step up to the platform, looking neither to the right nor to the +left of her. + +Therefore she did not see Deroulede. A great, a wonderful radiance +seemed to shine in her large eyes--the radiance of self-sacrifice. + +She was offering not only her life, but everything a woman of refinement +holds most dear, for the safety of the man she loved. + +A feeling that was almost physical pain, so intense was it, overcame +Deroulede, when at last he heard her name loudly called by the Public +Prosecutor. + +All day he had waited for this awful moment, forgetting his own misery, +his own agonised feeling of an irretrievable loss, in the horrible +thought of what _she_ would endure, what _she_ would think, when first +she realised the terrible indignity, which was to be put upon her. + +Yet for the sake of her, of her chances of safety and of ultimate +freedom, it was undoubtedly best that it should be so. + +Arraigned for conspiracy against the Republic, she was liable to secret +trial, to be brought up, condemned, and executed before he could even +hear of her whereabouts, before he could throw himself before her judges +and take all guilt upon himself. + +Those suspected of treason against the Republic forfeited, according to +Merlin's most iniquitous Law, their rights of citizenship, in publicity +of trial and in defence. + +It all might have been finished before Deroulede knew anything of it. + +The other way was, of course, more terrible. Brought forth amongst the +scum of criminal Paris, on a charge, the horror of which, he could but +dimly hope that she was too innocent to fully understand, he dared not +even think of what she would suffer. + +But undoubtedly it was better so. + +The mud thrown at her robes of purity could never cling to her, and at +least her trial would be public; he would be there to take all infamy, +all disgrace, all opprobrium on himself. + +The strength of his appeal would turn her judges' wrath from her to him; +and after these few moments of misery, she would be free to leave Paris, +France, to be happy, and to forget him and the memory of him. + +An overwhelming, all-compelling love filled his entire soul for the +beautiful girl, who had so wronged, yet so nobly tried to save him. A +longing for her made his very sinews ache; she was no longer madonna, +and her beauty thrilled him, with the passionate, almost sensuous desire +to give his life for her. + +The indictment against Juliette Marny has become history now. + +On that day, the 25th Fructidor, at seven o'clock in the evening, it was +read out by the Public Prosecutor, and listened to by the accused--so +the Bulletin tells us--with complete calm and apparent indifference. She +stood up in that same pillory where once stood poor, guilty Charlotte +Corday, where presently would stand proud, guiltless Marie Antoinette. + +And Deroulede listened to the scurrilous document, with all the outward +calm his strength of will could command. He would have liked to rise +from his seat then and there, at once, and in mad, purely animal fury +have, with a blow of his fist, quashed the words in Foucquier-Tinville's +lying throat. + +But for her sake he was bound to listen, and, above all, to act quietly, +deliberately, according to form and procedure, so as in no way to +imperil her cause. + +Therefore he listened whilst the Public Prosecutor spoke. + +"Juliette Marny, you are hereby accused of having, by a false and +malicious denunciation, slandered the person of a representative of the +people; you caused the Revolutionary Tribunal, through this same +mischievous act, to bring a charge against this representative of the +people, to institute a domiciliary search in his house, and to waste +valuable time, which otherwise belonged to the service of the Republic. +And this you did, not from a misguided sense of duty towards your +country, but in wanton and impure spirit, to be rid of the surveillance +of one who had your welfare at heart, and who tried to prevent your +leading the immoral life which had become a public scandal, and which +has now brought you before this court of justice, to answer to a charge +of wantonness, impurity, defamation of character, and corruption of +public morals. In proof of which I now place before the court your own +admission, that more than one citizen of the Republic has been led by +you into immoral relationship with yourself; and further, your own +admission, that your accusation against Citizen-Deputy Deroulede was +false and mischievous; and further, and finally, your immoral and +obscene correspondence with some persons unknown, which you vainly tried +to destroy. In consideration of which, and in the name of the people of +France, whose spokesman I am, I demand that you be taken hence from this +Hall of Justice to the Place de la Revolution, in full view of the +citizens of Paris an its environs, and clad in a soiled white garment, +emblem of the smirch upon your soul, that there you be publicly whipped +by the hands of Citizen Samson, the public executioner; after which, +that you be taken to the prison of the Salpetriere, there to be further +detained at the discretion of the Committee of Public Safety. And now, +Juliette Marny, you have heard the indictment preferred against you, +have you anything to say, why the sentence which I have demanded shall +not be passed upon you?" + +Jeers, shouts, laughter, and curses greeted this speech of the Public +Prosecutor. + +All that was most vile and most bestial in this miserable, misguided +people struggling for Utopia and Liberty, seemed to come to the surface, +whilst listening to the reading of this most infamous document. + +The delight of seeing this beautiful, ethereal woman, almost unearthly +in her proud aloofness, smirched with the vilest mud to which the +vituperation of man can contrive to sink, was a veritable treat to the +degraded wretches. + +The women yelled hoarse approval; the children, not understanding, +laughed in mirthless glee; the men, with loud curses, showed their +appreciation of Foucquier-Tinville's speech. + +As for Deroulede, the mental agony he endured surpassed any torture +which the devils, they say, reserve for the damned. His sinews cracked +in his frantic efforts to control himself; he dug his finger-nails into +his flesh, trying by physical pain to drown the sufferings of his mind. + +He thought that his reason was tottering, that he would go mad if he +heard another word of this infamy. The hooting and yelling of that +filthy mob sounded like the cries of lost souls, shrieking from hell. +All his pity for them was gone, his love for humanity, his devotion to +the suffering poor. + +A great, an immense hatred for this ghastly Revolution and the people it +professed to free filled his whole being, together with a mad, hideous +desire to see them suffer, starve, die a miserable, loathsome death. The +passion of hate, that now overwhelmed his soul, was at least as ugly as +theirs. He was, for one brief moment, now at one with them in their +inordinate lust for revenge. + +Only Juliette throughout all this remained calm, silent, impassive. + +She had heard the indictment, heard the loathsome sentence, for her +white cheeks had gradually become ashy pale, but never for a moment did +she depart from her attitude of proud aloofness. + +She never once turned her head towards the mob who insulted her. She +waited in complete passiveness until the yelling and shouting had +subsided, motionless save for her finger-tips, which beat an impatient +tattoo upon the railing in front of her. + +The Bulletin says that she took out her handkerchief and wiped her face +with it. _Elle s'essuya le front qui fut perle de sueur._ The heat had +become oppressive. + +The atmosphere was overcharged with the dank, penetrating odour of +steaming, dirty clothes. The room, though vast, was close and +suffocating, the tallow candles flickering in the humid, hot air threw +the faces of the President and clerks into bold relief, with curious +caricature effects of light and shade. + +The petrol lamp above the head of the accused had flared up, and begun +to smoke, causing the chimney to crack with a sharp report. This +diversion effected a momentary silence among the crowd, and the Public +Prosecutor was able to repeat his query: + +"Juliette Marny, have you anything to say in reply to the charge brought +against you, and why the sentence which I have demanded should not be +passed against you?" + +The sooty smoke from the lamp came down in small, black, greasy +particles; Juliette with her slender finger-tips flicked one of these +quietly off her sleeve, then she replied: + +"No; I have nothing to say." + +"Have you instructed an advocate to defend you, according to your rights +of citizenship, which the Law allows?" added the Public Prosecutor +solemnly. + +Juliette would have replied at once; her mouth had already framed the No +with which she meant to answer. + +But now at last had come Deroulede's hour. For this he had been silent, +had suffered and had held his peace, whilst twice twenty-four hours had +dragged their weary lengths along, since the arrest of the woman he +loved. + +In a moment he was on his feet before them all, accustomed to speak, to +dominate, to command. + +"Citiziness Juliette Marny has entrusted me with her defence," he said, +even before the No had escaped Juliette's white lips, "and I am here to +refute the charges brought against her, and to demand in the name of the +people of France full acquittal and justice for her." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +The defence. + + +Intense excitement, which found vent in loud applause, greeted +Deroulede's statement. + +"_Ca ira! ca ira! vas-y Deroulede!_" came from the crowded benches +round; and men, women, and children, wearied with the monotony of the +past proceedings, settled themselves down for a quarter of an hour's +keen enjoyment. + +If Deroulede had anything to do with it, the trial was sure to end in +excitement. And the people were always ready to listen to their special +favourite. + +The citizen-deputies, drowsy after the long, oppressive day, seemed to +rouse themselves to renewed interest. Lebrun, like a big, shaggy dog, +shook himself free from creeping somnolence. Robespierre smiled between +his thin lips, and looked across at Merlin to see how the situation +affected him. The enmity between the Minister of Justice and Citizen +Deroulede was well known, and everyone noted, with added zest, that the +former wore a keen look of anticipated triumph. + +High up, on one of the topmost benches, sat Citizen Lenoir, the +stage-manager of this palpitating drama. He looked down, with obvious +satisfaction, at the scene which he himself had suggested last night to +the members of the Jacobin Club. Merlin's sharp eyes had tried to pierce +the gloom, which wrapped the crowd of spectators, searching vainly to +distinguish the broad figure and massive head of the provincial giant. + +The light from the petrol lamp shone full on Deroulede's earnest, dark +countenance as he looked Juliette's infamous accuser full in the face, +but the tallow candles, flickering weirdly on the President's desk, +threw Tinville's short, spare figure and large, unkempt head into +curious grotesque silhouette. + +Juliette apparently had lost none of her calm, and there was no one +there sufficiently interested in her personality to note the tinge of +delicate colour which, at the first word of Deroulede, had slowly +mounted to her pale cheeks. + +Tinville waited until the wave of excitement had broken upon the shoals +of expectancy. + +Then he resumed: + +"Then, Citizen Deroulede, what have _you_ to say, why sentence should +not be passed upon the accused?" + +"I have to say that the accused is innocent of every charge brought +against her in your indictment," replied Deroulede firmly. + +"And how do you substantiate this statement, Citizen-Deputy?" queried +Tinville, speaking with mock unctuousness. + +"Very simply, Citizen Tinville. The correspondence to which you refer +did not belong to the accused, but to me. It consisted of certain +communications, which I desired to hold with Marie Antoinette, now a +prisoner in the Conciergerie, during my state there as +lieutenant-governor. The Citizeness Juliette Marny, by denouncing me, +was serving the Republic, for my communications with Marie Antoinette +had reference to my own hopes of seeing her quit this country and take +refuge in her own native land." + +Gradually, as Deroulede spoke, a murmur, like the distant roar of a +monstrous breaker, rose among the crowd on the upper benches. As he +continued quietly and firmly, so it grew in volume and in intensity, +until his last words were drowned in one mighty, thunderous shout of +horror and execration. + +Deroulede, the friend and idol of the people, the privileged darling of +this unruly population, the father of the children, the friend of the +women, the sympathiser in all troubles, Papa Deroulede as the little +ones called him--he a traitor, self-accused, plotting and planning for +an ex-tyrant, a harlot who had called herself a queen, for Marie +Antoinette the Austrian, who had desired and worked for the overthrow of +France! He, Deroulede, a traitor! + +In one moment, as he spoke, the love which in their crude hearts they +bore him, that animal primitive love, was turned to sudden, equally +irresponsible hate. He had deceived them, laughed at them, tried to +bribe them by feeding their little ones! + +Bah! the bread of the traitor! It might have choked the children. + +Surprise at first had taken their breath away. Already they had +marvelled why he should stand up to defend a wanton. And now, probably +feeling that he was on the point of being found out, he thought it +better to make a clean breast of his own treason, trusting in his +popularity, in his power over the people. + +Bah!!! + +Not one extenuating circumstance did they find in their hardened hearts +for him. + +He had been their idol, enshrined in their squalid, degraded minds, and +now he had fallen, shattered beyond recall, and they hated and loathed +him as much as they had loved him before. + +And this his enemies noted, and smiled with complete satisfaction. + +Merlin heaved a sigh of relief. Tinville nodded his shaggy head, in +token of intense delight. + +What that provincial coal-heaver had foretold had indeed come to pass. + +The populace, that most fickle of all fickle things in this world, had +turned all at once against its favourite. This Lenoir had predicted, and +the transition had been even more rapid than he had anticipated. + +Deroulede had been given a length of rope, and, figuratively speaking, +had already hanged himself. + +The reality was a mere matter of a few hours now. At dawn to-morrow the +guillotine; and the mob of Paris, who yesterday would have torn his +detractors limb from limb, would on the morrow be dragging him, with +hoots and yells and howls of execration, to the scaffold. + +The most shadowy of all footholds, that of the whim of a populace, had +already given way under him. His enemies knew it, and were exulting in +their triumph. He knew it himself, and stood up, calmly defiant, ready +for any event, if only he succeeded in snatching her beautiful head from +the ready embrace of the guillotine. + +Juliette herself had remained as if entranced. The colour had again fled +from her cheeks, leaving them paler, more ashen than before. It seemed +as if in this moment she suffered more than human creature could bear, +more than any torture she had undergone hitherto. + +He would not owe his life to her. + +That was the one overwhelming thought in her, which annihilated all +others. His love for her was dead, and he would not accept the great +sacrifice at her hands. + +Thus these two in the supreme moment of their life saw each other, yet +did not understand. A word, a touch would have given them both the key +to one another's heart, and it now seemed as if death would part them +for ever, whilst that great enigma remained unsolved. + +The Public Prosecutor had been waiting until the noise had somewhat +subsided, and his voice could be heard above the din, then he said, with +a smile of ill-concealed satisfaction: + +"And is the court, then, to understand, Citizen-Deputy Deroulede, that +it was you who tried to burn the treasonable correspondence and to +destroy the case which contained it?" + +"The treasonable correspondence was mine, and it was I who destroyed +it." + +"But the accused admitted before Citizen Merlin that she herself was +trying to burn certain love letters, that would have brought to light +her illicit relationship with another man than yourself," argued +Tinville suavely. The rope was perhaps not quite long enough; Deroulede +must have all that could be given him, ere this memorable sitting was +adjourned. + +Deroulede, however, instead of directing his reply straight to his +enemy, now turned towards the dense crowd of spectators, on the benches +opposite to him. + +"Citizens, friends, brothers," he said warmly, "the accused is only a +girl, young, innocent knowing nothing of peril or of sin. You all have +mothers, sisters, daughters--have you not watched those dear to you in +the many moods of which a feminine heart is capable; have you not seen +them affectionate, tender, and impulsive? Would you love them so dearly +but for the fickleness of their moods? Have you not worshipped them in +your hearts, for those sublime impulses which put all man's plans and +calculations to shame? Look on the accused, citizens. She loves the +Republic, the people of France, and feared that I, an unworthy +representative of her sons, was hatching treason against our great +mother. That was her first wayward impulse--to stop me before I +committed the awful crime, to punish me, or perhaps only to warn me. +Does a young girl calculate, citizens? She acts as her heart dictates; +her reason but awakes from slumber later on, when the act is done. Then +comes repentance sometimes: another impulse of tenderness which we all +revere. Would you extract vinegar from rose leaves? Just as readily +could you find reason in a young girl's head. Is that a crime? She +wished to thwart me in my treason; then, seeing me in peril, the sincere +friendship she had for me gained the upper hand once more. She loved my +mother, who might be losing a son; she loved my crippled foster-sister; +for _their_ sakes, not for mine--a traitor's--did she yield to another, +a heavenly impulse, that of saving me from the consequences of my own +folly. Was _that_ a crime, citizens? When you are ailing, do not your +mothers, sisters, wives tend you? when you are seriously ill, would they +not give their heart's blood to save you? and when, in the dark hours of +your lives, some deed which you would not openly avow before the world +overweights your soul with its burden of remorse, is it not again your +womenkind who come to you, with tender words and soothing voices, trying +to ease your aching conscience, bringing solace, comfort, and peace? And +so it was with the accused, citizens. She had seen my crime, and longed +to punish it; she saw those who had befriended her in sorrow, and she +tried to ease their pain by taking _my_ guilt upon her shoulders. She +has suffered for the noble lie, which she had told on my behalf, as no +woman has ever been made to suffer before. She has stood, white and +innocent as your new-born children, in the pillory of infamy. She was +ready to endure death, and what was ten thousand times worse than death, +because of her own warm-hearted affection. But you, citizens of France, +who, above all, are noble, true, and chivalrous, you will not allow the +sweet impulses of young and tender womanhood to be punished with the ban +of felony. To you, women of France, I appeal in the name of your +childhood, your girlhood, your motherhood; take her to your hearts, she +is worthy of it, worthier now for having blushed before you, worthier +than any heroine in the great roll of honour of France." + +His magnetic voice went echoing along the rafters of the great, sordid +Hall of Justice, filling it with a glory it had never known before. His +enthusiasm thrilled his hearers, his appeal to their honour and chivalry +roused all the finer feelings within them. Still hating him for his +treason, his magical appeal had turned their hearts towards her. + +They had listened to him without interruption, and now at last, when he +paused, it was very evident, by muttered exclamations and glances cast +at Juliette, that popular feeling, which up to the present had +practically ignored her, now went out towards her personality with +overwhelming sympathy. + +Obviously at the present moment, if Juliette's fate had been put to the +plebiscite, she would have been unanimously acquitted. + +Merlin, as Deroulede spoke, had once or twice tried to read his friend +Foucquier-Tinville's enigmatical expression, but the Public Prosecutor, +with his face in deep shadow, had not moved a muscle during the +Citizen-Deputy's noble peroration. He sat at his desk, chin resting on +hand, staring before him with an expression of indifference, almost of +boredom. + +Now, when Deroulede finished speaking, and the outburst of human +enthusiasm had somewhat subsided, he rose slowly to his feet, and said +quietly: + +"So you maintain, Citizen-Deputy, that the accused is a chaste and +innocent girl, unjustly charged with immorality?" + +"I do," protested Deroulede loudly. + +"And will you tell the court why you are so ready to publicly accuse +yourself of treason against the Republic, knowing full well all the +consequences of your action?" + +"Would any Frenchman care to save his own life at the expense of a +woman's honour?" retorted Deroulede proudly. + +A murmur of approval greeted these words, and Tinville remarked +unctuously: + +"Quite so, quite so. We esteem your chivalry, Citizen-Deputy. The same +spirit, no doubt, actuates you to maintain that the accused knew nothing +of the papers which you say you destroyed?" + +"She knew nothing of them. I destroyed them; I did not know that they +had been found; on my return to my house I discovered that the +Citizeness Juliette Marny had falsely accused herself of having +destroyed some papers surreptitiously." + +"She said they were love letters." + +"It is false." + +"You declare her to be pure and chaste?" + +"Before the whole world." + +"Yet you were in the habit of frequenting the bedroom of this pure and +chaste girl, who dwelt under your roof," said Tinville with slow and +deliberate sarcasm. + +"It is false." + +"If it be false, Citizen Deroulede," continued the other with the same +unctuous suavity, "then how comes it that the correspondence which you +admit was treasonable, and therefore presumably secret--how comes it +that it was found, still smouldering, in the chaste young woman's +bedroom, and the torn letter-case concealed among her dresses in a +valise?" + +"It is false." + +"The Minister of Justice, Citizen-Deputy Merlin, will answer for the +truth of that." + +"It is the truth," said Juliette quietly. + +Her voice rang out clear, almost triumphant, in the midst of the +breathless pause, caused by the previous swift questions and loud +answers. + +Deroulede now was silent. + +This one simple fact he did not know. Anne Mie, in telling him the +events in connection with the arrest of Juliette, had omitted to give +him the one little detail, that the burnt letters were found in the +young girl's bedroom. + +Up to the moment when the Public Prosecutor confronted him with it, he +had been under the impression that she had destroyed the papers and the +letter-case in the study, where she had remained alone after Merlin and +his men had left the room. She could easily have burnt them there, as a +tiny spirit lamp was always kept alight on a side table for the use of +smokers. + +This little fact now altered the entire course of events. Tinville had +but to frame an indignant ejaculation: + +"Citizens of France, see how you are being befooled and hoodwinked!" + +Then he turned once more to Deroulede. + +"Citizen Deroulede ..." he began. + +But in the tumult that ensued he could no longer hear his own voice. The +pent-up rage of the entire mob of Paris seemed to find vent for itself +in the howls with which the crowd now tried to drown the rest of the +proceedings. + +As their brutish hearts had been suddenly melted on behalf of Juliette, +in response to Deroulede's passionate appeal, so now they swiftly +changed their sympathetic attitude to one of horror and execration. + +Two people had fooled and deceived them. One of these they had +reverenced and trusted, as much as their degraded minds were capable of +reverencing anything, therefore _his_ sin seemed doubly damnable. + +He and that pale-face aristocrat had for weeks now, months, or years +perhaps, conspired against the Republic, against the Revolution, which +had been made by a people thirsting for liberty. During these months and +years _he_ had talked to them, and they had listened; he had poured +forth treasures of eloquence, cajoled them, as he had done just now. + +The noise and hubbub were growing apace. If Tinville and Merlin had +desired to infuriate the mob, they had more than succeeded. All that was +most bestial, most savage in this awful Parisian populace rose to the +surface now in one wild, mad desire for revenge. + +The crowd rushed down from the benches, over one another's heads, over +children's fallen bodies; they rushed down because they wanted to get at +him, their whilom favourite, and at his pale-faced mistress, and tear +them to pieces, hit them, scratch out their eyes. They snarled like so +many wild beasts, the women shrieked, the children cried, and the men of +the National Guard, hurrying forward, had much ado to keep back this +flood-tide of hate. + +Had any of them broken loose, from behind the barrier of bayonets +hastily raised against them, it would have fared ill with Deroulede and +Juliette. + +The President wildly rang his bell, and his voice, quivering with +excitement, was heard once or twice above the din. + +"Clear the court! Clear the court!" + +But the people refused to be cleared out of court. + +"_A la lanterne les traitres! Mort a Deroulede. A la lanterne! +l'aristo!_" + +And in the thickest of the crowd, the broad shoulders and massive head +of Citizen Lenoir towered above the others. + +At first it seemed as if he had been urging on the mob in its fury. His +strident voice, with its broad provincial accent, was heard distinctly +shouting loud vituperations against the accused. + +Then at a given moment, when the tumult was at its height, when the +National Guard felt their bayonets giving way before this onrushing tide +of human jackals, Lenoir changed his tactics. + +"_Tiens! c'est bete!_" he shouted loudly, "we shall do far better with +the traitors when we get them outside. What say you, citizens? Shall we +leave the judges here to conclude the farce, and arrange for its sequel +ourselves outside the 'Tigre Jaune'?" + +At first but little heed was paid to his suggestion, and he repeated it +once or twice, adding some interesting details: + +"One is freer in the streets, where these apes of the National Guard +can't get between the people of France and their just revenge. _Ma +foi!_" he added, squaring his broad shoulders, and pushing his way +through the crowd towards the door, "I for one am going to see where +hangs the most suitable _lanterne._" + +Like a flock of sheep the crowd now followed him. + +"The nearest _lanterne!_" they shouted. "In the streets--in the streets! +_A la lanterne!_ The traitors!" + +And with many a jeer, many a loathsome curse, and still more loathsome +jests, some of the crowd began to file out. A few only remained to see +the conclusion of the farce. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +Sentence of death. + + +The "Bulletin du Tribunal Revolutionnaire" tells us that both the +accused had remained perfectly calm during the turmoil which raged +within the bare walls of the Hall of Justice. + +Citizen-Deputy Deroulede, however, so the chroniclers aver, though +outwardly impassive, was evidently deeply moved. He had very expressive +eyes, clear mirrors of the fine, upright soul within, and in them there +was a look of intense emotion as he watched the crowd, which he had so +often dominated and controlled, now turning in hatred against him. + +He seemed actually to be seeing with a spiritual vision, his own +popularity wane and die. + +But when the thick of the crowd had pushed and jostled itself out of the +hall, that transient emotion seemed to disappear, and he allowed himself +quietly to be led from the front bench, where he had sat as a privileged +member of the National Convention, to a place immediately behind the +dock, and between two men of the National Guard. + +From that moment he was a prisoner, accused of treason against the +Republic, and obviously his mock trial would be hurried through by his +triumphant enemies, whilst the temper of the people was at boiling point +against him. + +Complete silence had succeeded to the raging tumult of the past few +moments. Nothing now could be heard in the vast room, save +Foucquier-Tinville's hastily whispered instructions to the clerk nearest +to him, and the scratch of the latter's quill pen against the paper. + +The President was, with equal rapidity, affixing his signature to +various papers handed up to him by the other clerks. The few remaining +spectators, the deputies, and those among the crowd who had elected to +see the close of the debate, were silent and expectant. + +Merlin was mopping his forehead as if in intense fatigue after a hard +struggle; Robespierre was coolly taking snuff. + +From where Deroulede stood, he could see Juliette's graceful figure +silhouetted against the light of the petrol lamp. His heart was torn +between intense misery at having failed to save her and a curious, +exultant joy at thought of dying beside her. + +He knew the procedure of this revolutionary tribunal well--knew that +within the next few moments he too would be condemned, that they would +both be hustled out of the crowd and dragged through the streets of +Paris, and finally thrown into the same prison, to herd with those who, +like themselves, had but a few hours to live. + +And then to-morrow at dawn, death for them both under the guillotine. +Death in public, with all its attendant horrors: the packed tumbril; the +priest, in civil clothes, appointed by this godless government, +muttering conventional prayers and valueless exhortations. + +And in his heart there was nothing but love for her--love and an intense +pity--for the punishment she was suffering was far greater than her +crime. He hoped that in her heart remorse would not be too bitter; and +he looked forward with joy to the next few hours, which he would pass +near her, during which he could perhaps still console and soothe her. + +She was but the victim of an ideal, of Fate stronger than her own will. +She stood, an innocent martyr to the great mistake of her life. + +But the minutes sped on. Foucquier-Tinville had evidently completed his +new indictments. + +The one against Juliette Marny was read out first. She was now accused +of conspiring with Paul Deroulede against the safety of the Republic, by +having cognisance of a treasonable correspondence carried on with the +prisoner, Marie Antoinette; by virtue of which accusation the Public +Prosecutor asked her if she had anything to say. + +"No," she replied loudly and firmly. "I pray to God for the safety and +deliverance of our Queen, Marie Antoinette, and for the overthrow of +this Reign of Terror and Anarchy." + +These words, registered in the "Bulletin du Tribunal Revolutionnaire" +were taken as final and irrefutable proofs of her guilt, and she was +then summarily condemned to death. + +She was then made to step down from the dock and Deroulede to stand in +her place. + +He listened quietly to the long indictment which Foucquier-Tinville had +already framed against him the evening before, in readiness for this +contingency. The words "treason against the Republic" occurred +conspicuously and repeatedly. The document itself is at one with the +thousands of written charges, framed by that odious Foucquier-Tinville +during these periods of bloodshed, and which in themselves are the most +scathing indictments against the odious travesty of Justice, perpetrated +with his help. + +Self-accused, and avowedly a traitor, Deroulede was not even asked if he +had anything to say; sentence of death was passed on him, with the +rapidity and callousness peculiar to these proceedings. + +After which Paul Deroulede and Juliette Marny were led forth, under +strong escort, into the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +The Fructidor Riots. + + +Many accounts, more or less authentic, have been published of the events +known to history as the "Fructidor Riots." + +But this is how it all happened: at any rate it is the version related +some few days later in England to the Prince of Wales by no less a +personage than Sir Percy Blakeney; and who indeed should know better +than The Scarlet Pimpernel himself? + +Deroulede and Juliette Marny were the last of the batch of prisoners who +were tried on that memorable day of Fructidor. + +There had been such a number of these, that all the covered carts in use +for the conveyance of prisoners to and from the Hall of Justice had +already been despatched with their weighty human load; thus it was that +only a rough wooden cart, hoodless and rickety, was available, and into +this Deroulede and Juliette were ordered to mount. + +It was now close on nine o'clock in the evening. The streets of Paris, +sparsely illuminated here and there with solitary oil lamps swung across +from house to house on wires, presented a miserable and squalid +appearance. A thin, misty rain had begun to fall, transforming the +ill-paved roads into morasses of sticky mud. + +The Hall of Justice was surrounded by a howling and shrieking mob, who, +having imbibed all the stores of brandy in the neighbouring drinking +bars, was now waiting outside in the dripping rain for the express +purpose of venting its pent-up, spirit-sodden lust of rage against the +man whom it had once worshipped, but whom now it hated. Men, women, and +even children swarmed round the principal entrances of the Palais de +Justice, along the bank of the river as far as the Pont au Change, and +up towards the Luxembourg Palace, now transformed into the prison, to +which the condemned would no doubt be conveyed. + +Along the river-bank, and immediately facing the Palais de Justice, a +row of gallows-shaped posts, at intervals of a hundred yards or more, +held each a smoky petrol lamp, at a height of some eight feet from the +ground. + +One of these lamps had been knocked down, and from the post itself there +now hung ominously a length of rope, with a noose at the end. + +Around this improvised gallows a group of women sat, or rather squatted, +in the mud; their ragged shifts and kirtles, soaked through with the +drizzling rain, hung dankly on their emaciated forms; their hair, in +some cases grey, and in others dark or straw-coloured, clung matted +round their wet faces, on which the dirt and the damp had drawn weird +and grotesque lines. + +The men were restless and noisy, rushing aimlessly hither and thither, +from the corner of the bridge, up the Rue du Palais, fearful lest their +prey be conjured away ere their vengeance was satisfied. + +Oh, how they hated their former idol now! Citizen Lenoir, with his broad +shoulders and powerful, grime-covered head, towered above the throng; +his strident voice, with its raucous, provincial accent, could be +distinctly heard above the din, egging on the men, shouting to the +women, stirring up hatred against the prisoners, wherever it showed +signs of abating in intensity. + +The coal-heaver, hailing from some distant province, seemed to have set +himself the grim task of provoking the infuriated populace to some +terrible deed of revenge against Deroulede and Juliette. + +The darkness of the street, the fast-falling mist which obscured the +light from the meagre oil lamps, seemed to add a certain weirdness to +this moving, seething multitude. No one could see his neighbour. In the +blackness of the night the muttering or yelling figures moved about like +some spectral creatures from hellish regions--the Akous of Brittany who +call to those about to die; whilst the women squatting in the oozing +mud, beneath that swinging piece of rope, looked like a group of ghostly +witches, waiting for the hour of their Sabbath. + +As Deroulede emerged into the open, the light from a swinging lantern in +the doorway fell upon his face. The foremost of the crowd recognised +him; a howl of execration went up to the cloud-covered sky, and a +hundred hands were thrust out in deadly menace against him. + +It seemed as if they whished to tear him to pieces. + +"_A la lanterne! A la lanterne! le traitre!_" + +He shivered slightly, as if with the sudden blast of cold, humid air, +but he stepped quietly into the cart, closely followed by Juliette. + +The strong escort of the National Guard, with Commandant Santerre and +his two drummers, had much ado to keep back the mob. It was not the +policy of the revolutionary government to allow excesses of summary +justice in the streets: the public execution of traitors on the Place de +la Revolution, the processions in the tumbrils, were thought to be +wholesome examples for other would-be traitors to mark and digest. + +Citizen Santerre, military commandant of Paris, had ordered his men to +use their bayonets ruthlessly, and, to further overawe the populace, he +ordered a prolonged roll of drums, lest Deroulede took it into his head +to speak to the crowd. + +But Deroulede had no such intention: he seemed chiefly concerned in +shielding Juliette from the cold; she had been made to sit in the cart +beside him, and he had taken off his coat, and was wrapping it round her +against the penetrating rain. + +The eye-witnesses of these memorable events have declared that, at a +given moment, he looked up suddenly with a curious, eager expression in +his eyes, and then raised himself in the cart and seemed to be trying to +penetrate the gloom round him, as if in search of a face, or perhaps a +voice. + +"_A la lanterne! A la lanterne!_" was the continual hoarse cry of the +mob. + +Up to now, flanked in their rear by the outer walls of the Palais de +Justice, the soldiers had found it a fairly easy task to keep the crowd +at bay. But there came a time when the cart was bound to move out into +the open, in order to convey the prisoners along, by the Rue du Palais, +up to the Luxembourg Prison. + +This task, however, had become more and more difficult every moment. The +people of Paris, who for two years had been told by its tyrants that it +was supreme lord of the universe, was mad with rage at seeing its +desires frustrated by a few soldiers. + +The drums had been greeted by terrific yells, which effectually drowned +their roll; the first movement of the cart was hailed by a veritable +tumult. + +Only the women who squatted round the gallows had not moved from their +position of vantage; one of these Maegaeras was quietly readjusting the +rope, which had got out of place. + +But all the men and some of the women were literally besieging the cart, +and threatening the soldiers, who stood between them and the object of +their fury. + +It seemed as if nothing now could save Deroulede and Juliette from an +immediate and horrible death. + +"_A mort! A mort! A la lanterne les traitres!_" + +Santerne himself, who had shouted himself hoarse, was at a loss what to +do. He had sent one man to the nearest cavalry barracks, but +reinforcements would still be some little time coming; whilst in the +meanwhile his men were getting exhausted, and the mob, more and more +excited, threatened to break through their line at every moment. + +There was not another second to be lost. + +Santerre was for letting the mob have its way, and he would willingly +have thrown it the prey for which it clamoured; but orders were orders, +and in the year I. of the Revolution it was not good to disobey. + +At this supreme moment of perplexity he suddenly felt a respectful touch +on his arm. + +Close behind him a soldier of the National Guard--not one of his own +men--was standing at attention, and holding a small, folded paper in his +hand. + +"Sent to you by the Minister of Justice," whispered the soldier +hurriedly. "The citizen-deputies have watched the tumult from the Hall; +they say, you must not lose an instant." + +Santerre withdrew from the front rank, up against the side of the cart, +where a rough stable lantern had been fixed. He took the paper from the +soldier's hand, and, hastily tearing it open, he read it by the dim +light of the lantern. + +As he read, his thick, coarse features expressed the keenest +satisfaction. + +"You have two more men with you?" he asked quickly. + +"Yes, citizen," replied the man, pointing towards his right; "and the +Citizen-Minister said you would give me two more." + +"You'll take the prisoners quietly across to the Prison of the Temple +--you understand that?" + +"Yes, citizen; Citizen Merlin has given me full instructions. You can +have the cart drawn back a little more under the shadow of the portico, +where the prisoners can be made to alight; they can then given into my +charge. You in the meantime are to stay here with your men, round the +empty cart, as long as you can. Reinforcements have been sent for, and +must soon be here. When they arrive you are to move along with the cart, +as if you were making for the Luxembourg Prison. This manoeuvre will +give us time to deliver the prisoners safely at the Temple." + +The man spoke hurriedly and peremptorily, and Santerne was only too +ready to obey. He felt relieved at thought of reinforcements, and glad +to be rid of the responsibility of conducting such troublesome +prisoners. + +The thick mist, which grew more and more dense, favoured the new +manoeuvre, and the constant roll of drums drowned the hastily given +orders. + +The cart was drawn back into the deepest shadow of the great portico, +and whilst the mob were howling their loudest, and yelling out frantic +demands for the traitors, Deroulede and Juliette were summarily ordered +to step out of the cart. No one saw them, for the darkness here was +intense. + +"Follow quietly!" whispered a raucous voice in their ears as they did +so, "or my orders are to shoot you where you stand." + +But neither of them had any wish for resistance. Juliette, cold and +numb, was clinging to Deroulede, who had placed a protecting arm round +her. + +Santerne had told off two of his men to join the new escort of the +prisoners, and presently the small party, skirting the walls of the +Palais de Justice, began to walk rapidly away from the scene of the +riot. + +Deroulede noted that some half-dozen men seemed to be surrounding him +and Juliette, but the drizzling rain blurred every outline. The +blackness of the night too had become absolutely dense, and in the +distance the cries of the populace grew more and more faint. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +The unexpected. + + +The small party walked on in silence. It seemed to consist of a very few +men of the National Guard, whom Santerne had placed under the command of +the soldier who had transmitted to him the orders of the +Citizen-Deputies. + +Juliette and Deroulede both vaguely wondered whither they were being +led; to some other prison mayhap, away from the fury of the populace. +They were conscious of a sense of satisfaction at thought of being freed +from that pack of raging wild beasts. + +Beyond that they cared nothing. Both felt already the shadow of death +hovering over them. The supreme moment of their lives had come, and had +found them side by side. + +What neither fear nor remorse, sorrow nor joy, could do, that the great +and mighty Shadow accomplished in a trice. + +Juliette, looking death bravely in the face, held out her hand, and +sought that of the man she loved. + +There was not one word spoken between them, not even a murmur. + +Deroulede, with the unerring instinct of his own unselfish passion, +understood all that the tiny hand wished to convey to him. + +In a moment everything was forgotten save the joy of this touch. Death, +or the fear of death, had ceased to exist. Life was beautiful, and in +the soul of these two human creatures there was perfect peace, almost +perfect happiness. + +With one grasp of the hand they had sought and found one another's soul. +What mattered the yelling crowd, the noise and tumult of this sordid +world? They had found one another, and, hand-in-hand, +shoulder-to-shoulder, they had gone off wandering into the land of +dreams, where dwelt neither doubt nor treachery, where there was nothing +to forgive. + +He no longer said: "She does not love me--would she have betrayed me +else?" He felt the clinging, trustful touch of her hand, and knew that, +with all her faults, her great sin and her lasting sorrow, her woman's +heart, Heaven's most priceless treasure, was indeed truly his. + +And she knew that he had forgiven--nay, that he had naught to forgive +--for Love is sweet and tender, and judges not. Love is Love--whole, +trustful, passionate. Love is perfect understanding and perfect peace. + +And so they followed their escort whithersoever it chose to lead them. + +Their eyes wandered aimlessly over the mist-laden landscape of this +portion of deserted Paris. They had turned away from the river now, and +were following the Rue des Arts. Close by on the right was the dismal +little hostelry, "La Cruche Cassee," where Sir Percy Blakeney lived. +Deroulede, as they neared the place, caught himself vaguely wondering +what had become of his English friend. + +But it would take more than the ingenuity of the Scarlet Pimpernel to +get two noted prisoners out of Paris to-day. Even if ... + +"Halt!" + +The word of command rang out clearly and distinctly through the +rain-soaked atmosphere. + +Deroulede threw up his head and listened. Something strange and +unaccountable in that same word of command had struck his sensitive ear. + +Yet the party had halted, and there was a click as of bayonets or +muskets levelled ready to fire. + +All had happened in less than a few seconds. The next moment there was a +loud cry: + +"_A moi,_ Deroulede! 'tis the Scarlet Pimpernel!" + +A vigorous blow from an unseen hand had knocked down and extinguished +the nearest street lantern. + +Deroulede felt that he and Juliette were being hastily dragged under an +adjoining doorway even as the cheery voice echoed along the narrow +street. + +Half-a-dozen men were struggling below in the mud, and there was a +plentiful supply of honest English oaths. It looked as if the men of the +National Guard had fallen upon one another, and had it not been for +those same English oaths perhaps Deroulede and Juliette would have been +slower to understand. + +"Well done, Tony! Gadzooks, Ffoulkes, that was a smart bit of work!" + +The lazy, pleasant voice was unmistakable, but, God in heaven! where did +it come from? + +Of one thing there could be no doubt. The two men despatched by Santerne +were lying disabled on the ground, whilst three other soldiers were busy +pinioning them with ropes. + +What did it all mean? + +"La, friend Deroulede! you had not thought, I trust, that I would leave +Mademoiselle Juliette in such a demmed, uncomfortable hole?" + +And there, close beside Deroulede and Juliette, stood the tall figure of +the Jacobin orator, the bloodthirsty Citizen Lenoir. The two young +people gazed and gazed, then looked again, dumfounded, hardly daring to +trust their vision, for through the grime-covered mask of the gigantic +coal-heaver a pair of merry blue eyes was regarding them with +lazy-amusement. + +"La! I do look a miserable object, I know," said the pseudo coal-heaver +at last, "but 'twas the only way to get those murderous devils to do +what I wanted. A thousand pardons, mademoiselle; 'twas I brought you to +such a terrible pass, but la! you are amongst friends now. Will you +deign to forgive me?" + +Juliette looked up. Her great, earnest eyes, now swimming in tears, +sought those of the brave man who had so nobly stood by her and the man +she loved. + +"Blakeney ..." began Deroulede. + +But Sir Percy quickly interrupted him: + +"Hush, man! we have but a few moments. Remember you are in Paris still, +and the Lord only knows how we shall all get out of this murderous city +to-night. I have said that you and mademoiselle are among friends. That +is all for the moment. I had to get you together, or I should have +failed. I could only succeed by subjecting you and mademoiselle to +terrible indignities. Our League could plan but one rescue, and I had to +adopt the best means at my command to have you condemned and led away +together. Faith!" he added, with a pleasant laugh, "my friend Tinville +will not be pleased when he realises that Citizen Lenoir has dragged the +Citizen-Deputies by the nose." + +Whilst he spoke he had led Deroulede and Juliette into a dark and narrow +room on the ground floor of the hostelry, and presently he called loudly +for Brogard, the host of this uninviting abode. + +"Brogard!" shouted Sir Percy. "Where is that ass Brogard? La! man," he +added as Citizen Brogard, obsequious and fussy, and with pockets stuffed +with English gold, came shuffling along, "where do you hide your +engaging countenance? Here! another length of rope for the gallant +soldiers. Bring them in here, then give them that potion down their +throats, as I have prescribed. Demm it! I wish we need not have brought +them along, but that devil Santerre might have been suspicious else. +They'll come to no harm, though, and can do us no mischief." + +He prattled along merrily. Innately kind and chivalrous, he wished to +give Deroulede and Juliette time to recover from their dazed surprise. + +The transition from dull despair to buoyant hope had been so sudden: it +had all happened in less than three minutes. + +The scuffle had been short and sudden outside. The two soldiers of +Santerne had been taken completely unawares, and the three young +lieutenants of the Scarlet Pimpernel had fallen on them with such vigour +that they had hardly had time to utter a cry of "Help!" + +Moreover, that cry would have been useless. The night was dark and wet, +and those citizens who felt ready for excitement were busy mobbing the +Hall of Justice, a mile and a half away. One or two heads had appeared +at the small windows of the squalid houses opposite, but it was too dark +to see anything, and the scuffle had very quickly subsided. + +All was silent now in the Rue des Arts, and in the grimy coffee-room of +the Cruche Cassee two soldiers of the National Guard were lying bound +and gagged, whilst three others were gaily laughing, and wiping their +rain-soaked hands and faces. + +In the midst of them all stood the tall, athletic figure of the bold +adventurer who had planned this impudent coup. + +"La! we've got so far, friends, haven't we?" he said cheerily, "and now +for the immediate future. We must all be out of Paris to-night, or the +guillotine for the lot of us to-morrow." + +He spoke gaily, and with that pleasant drawl of his which was so well +known in the fashionable assemblies of London; but there was a ring of +earnestness in his voice, and his lieutenants looked up at him, ready to +obey him in all things, but aware that danger was looming threateningly +ahead. + +Lord Anthony Dewhurst, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, and Lord Hastings, dressed +as soldiers of the National Guard, had played their part to perfection. +Lord Hastings had presented the order to Santerre, and the three young +bucks, at the word of command from their chief, had fallen upon and +overpowered the two men whom the commandant of Paris had despatched to +look after the prisoners. + +So far all was well. But how to get out of Paris? Everyone looked to the +Scarlet Pimpernel for guidance. + +Sir Percy now turned to Juliette, and with the consummate grace which +the elaborate etiquette of the times demanded, he made her a courtly +bow. + +"Mademoiselle de Marny," he said, "allow me to conduct you to a room, +which though unworthy of your presence will, nevertheless, enable you to +rest quietly for a few minutes, whilst I give my friend Deroulede +further advice and instructions. In the room you will find a disguise, +which I pray you to don with all haste. La! they are filthy rags, I own, +but your life and--and ours depend upon your help." + +Gallantly he kissed the tips of her fingers, and opened the door of an +adjoining room to enable her to pass through; then he stood aside, so +that her final look, as she went, might be for Deroulede. + +As soon as the door had closed upon her he once more turned to the men. + +"Those uniforms will not do now," he said peremptorily; "there are +bundles of abominable clothes here, Tony. Will you all don them as +quickly as you can? We must all look as filthy a band of _sansculottes_ +to-night as ever walked the streets of Paris." + +His lazy drawl had deserted him now. He was the man of action and of +thought, the bold adventurer who held the lives of his friends in the +hollow of his hand. + +The four men hastily obeyed. Lord Anthony Dewhurst--one of the most +elegant dandies of London society--had brought forth from a dank +cupboard a bundle of clothes, mere rags, filthy but useful. + +Within ten minutes the change was accomplished, and four dirty, slouchy +figures stood confronting their chief. + +"That's capital!" said Sir Percy merrily. + +"Now for Mademoiselle de Marny." + +Hardly had he spoken when the door of the adjoining room was pushed +open, and a horrible apparition stood before the men. A woman in filthy +bodice and skirt, with face covered in grime, her yellow hair, matted +and greasy, thrust under a dirty and crumpled cap. + +A shout of rapturous delight greeted this uncanny apparition. + +Juliette, like the true woman she was, had found all her energy and +spirits now that she felt that she had an important part to play. She +woke from her dream to realise that noble friends had risked their lives +for the man she loved and for her. + +Of herself she did not think; she only remembered that her presence of +mind, her physical and mental strength, would be needed to carry the +rescue to a successful end. + +Therefore with the rags of a Paris _tricotteuse_ she had also donned her +personality. She played her part valiantly, and one look at the +perfection of her disguise was sufficient to assure the leader of this +band of heroes that his instructions would be carried through to the +letter. + +Deroulede too now looked the ragged _sansculotte_ to the life, with bare +and muddy feet, frayed breeches, and shabby, black-shag spencer. The +four men stood waiting together with Juliette, whilst Sir Percy gave +them his final instructions. + +"We'll mix with the crowd," he said, "and do all that the crowd does. It +is for us to see that that unruly crowd does what we want. Mademoiselle +de Marny, a thousand congratulations. I entreat you to take hold of my +friend Deroulede's hand, and not to let go of it, on any pretext +whatever. La! not a difficult task, I ween," he added, with his genial +smile; "and yours, Deroulede, is equally easy. I enjoin you to take +charge of Mademoiselle Juliette, and on no account to leave her side +until we are out of Paris." + +"Out of Paris!" echoed Deroulede, with a troubled sigh. + +"Aye!" rejoined Sir Percy boldly; "out of Paris! with a howling mob at +our heels causing the authorities to take double precautions. And above +all remember, friends, that our rallying cry is the shrill call of the +sea-mew thrice repeated. Follow it until you are outside the gates of +Paris. Once there, listen for it again; it will lead you to freedom and +safety at last. Aye! Outside Paris, by the grace of God." + +The hearts of his hearers thrilled as they heard him. Who could help but +follow this brave and gallant adventurer, with the magic voice and the +noble bearing? + +"And now _en route_!" said Blakeney finally, "that ass Santerre will +have dispersed the pack of yelling hyenas with his cavalry by now. +They'll to the Temple prison to find their prey; we'll in their wake. _A +moi,_ friends! and remember the sea-gull's cry." + +Deroulede drew Juliette's hand in his. + +"We are ready," he said; "and God bless the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +Then the five men, with Juliette in their midst, went out into the +street once more. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +Pere Lachaise. + + +It was not difficult to guess which way the crowd had gone; yells, +hoots, and hoarse cries could be heard from the farther side of the +river. + +Citizen Santerne had been unable to keep the mob back until the arrival +of the cavalry reinforcements. Within five minutes of the abduction of +Deroulede and Juliette the crowd had broken through the line of +soldiers, and had stormed the cart, only to find it empty, and the prey +disappeared. + +"They are safe in the Temple by now!" shouted Santerne hoarsely, in +savage triumph at seeing them all baffled. + +At first it seemed as if the wrath of the infuriated populace, fooled in +its lust for vengeance, would vent itself against the commandant of +Paris and his soldiers; for a moment even Santerre's ruddy cheeks had +paled at the sudden vision of this unlooked for danger. + +Then just as suddenly the cry was raised. + +"To the Temple!" + +"To the Temple! To the Temple!" came in ready response. + +The cry was soon taken up by the entire crowd, and in less than two +minutes the purlieus of the Hall of Justice were deserted, and the Pont +St Michel, then the Cite and the Pont au Change, swarmed with the +rioters. Thence along the north bank of the river, and up the Rue du +Temple, the people still yelling, muttering, singing the "_Ca ira,_" and +shouting: "_A la lanterne! A la lanterne!_" + +Sir Percy Blakeney and his little band of followers had found the Pont +Neuf and the adjoining streets practically deserted. A few stragglers +from the crowd, soaked through with the rain, their enthusiasm damped, +and their throats choked with the mist, were sulkily returning to their +homes. + +The desultory group of six _sansculottes_ attracted little or no +attention, and Sir Percy boldly challenged every passer-by. + +"The way to the Rue du Temple, citizen?" he asked once or twice, or: + +"Have they hung the traitor yet? Can you tell me, citizeness?" + +A grunt or an oath were the usual replies, but no one took any further +notice of the gigantic coal-heaver and his ragged friends. + +At the corner of one of the cross streets, between the Rue du Temple and +the Rue des Archives, Sir Percy Blakeney suddenly turned to his +followers: + +"We are close to the rabble now," he said in a whisper, and speaking in +English; "do you all follow the nearest stragglers, and get as soon as +possible into the thickest of the crowd. We'll meet again outside the +prison--and remember the sea-gull's cry." + +He did not wait for an answer, and presently disappeared in the mist. + +Already a few stragglers, hangers-on of the multitude, were gradually +coming into view, and the yells could be distinctly heard. The mob had +evidently assembled in the great square outside the prison, and was +loudly demanding the object of its wrath. + +The moment for cool-headed action was at hand. The Scarlet Pimpernel had +planned the whole thing, but it was for his followers and for those, +whom he was endeavouring to rescue from certain death, to help him heart +and soul. + +Deroulede's grasp tightened on Juliette's little hand. + +"Are you frightened, my beloved?" he whispered. + +"Not whilst you are near me," she murmured in reply. + +A few more minutes' walk up the Rue des Archives and they were in the +thick of the crowd. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, Lord Anthony Dewhurst, and Lord +Hastings, the three Englishmen, were in front; Deroulede and Juliette +immediately behind them. + +The mob itself now carried them along. A motley throng they were, soaked +through with the rain, drunk with their own baffled rage, and with the +brandy which they had imbibed. + +Everyone was shouting; the women louder than the rest; one of them was +dragging the length of rope, which might still be useful. + +"_Ca ira! ca ira! A la lanterne! A la lanterne! les traitres!_" + +And Deroulede, holding Juliette by the hand, shouted lustily with them: + +"_Ca ira!_" + +Sir Andrew Ffoulkes turned, and laughed. It was rare sport for these +young bucks, and they all entered into the spirit of the situation. They +all shouted "_A la lanterne!_" egging and encouraging those around them. + +Deroulede and Juliette felt the intoxication of the adventure. They were +drunk with the joy of their reunion, and seized with the wild, mad, +passionate desire for freedom and for life ... Life and love! + +So they pushed and jostled on in the mud, followed the crowd, sang and +yelled louder than any of them. Was not that very crowd the great +bulwark of their safety? + +As well have sought for the proverbial needle in the haystack, as for +two escaped prisoners in this mad, heaving throng. + +The large open space in front of the Temple Prison looked like one +great, seething, black mass. + +The darkness was almost thick here, the ground like a morass, with +inches of clayey mud, which stuck to everything, whilst the sparse +lanterns, hung to the prison walls and beneath the portico, threw +practically no light into the square. + +As the little band, composed of the three Englishmen, and of Deroulede, +holding Juliette by the hand, emerged into the open space, they heard a +strident cry, like that of a sea-mew thrice repeated, and a hoarse voice +shouting from out the darkness: + +"_Ma foi!_ I'll not believe that the prisoners are in the Temple now! It +is my belief, friends, citizens, that we have been fooled once more!" + +The voice, with its strange, unaccountable accent, which seemed to +belong to no province of France, dominated the almost deafening noise; +it penetrated through, even into the brandy-soddened minds of the +multitude, for the suggestion was received with renewed shouts of the +wildest wrath. + +Like one great, living, seething mass the crowd literally bore down upon +the huge and frowning prison. Pushing, jostling, yelling, the women +screaming, the men cursing, it seemed as if that awesome day--the 14th +of July--was to have its sanguinary counterpart to-night, as if the +Temple were destined to share the fate of the Bastille. + +Obedient to their leader's orders the three young Englishmen remained in +the thick of the crowd: together with Deroulede they contrived to form a +sturdy rampart round Juliette, effectually protecting her against rough +buffetings. + +On their right, towards the direction of Menilmontant, the sea-mew's cry +at intervals gave the strength and courage. + +The foremost rank of the crowd had reached the portico of the building, +and, with howls and snatches of their gutter song, were loudly +clamouring for the guardian of the grim prison. + +No one appeared; the great gates with their massive bars and hinges +remained silent and defiant. + +The crowd was becoming dangerous: whispers of the victory of the +Bastille, five years ago, engendered thoughts of pillage and of arson. + +Then the strident voice was heard again: + +"_Pardi!_ the prisoners are not in the Temple! The dolts have allowed +them to escape, and now are afraid of the wrath of the people!" + +It was strange how easily the mob assimilated this new idea. Perhaps the +dark, frowning block of massive buildings had overawed them with its +peaceful strength, perhaps the dripping rain and oozing clay had damped +their desire for an immediate storming of the grim citadel; perhaps it +was merely the human characteristic of a wish for something new, +something unexpected. + +Be that as it may, the cry was certainly taken up with marvellous, +quick-change rapidity. + +"The prisoners have escaped! The prisoners have escaped!" + +Some were for proceeding with the storming of the Temple, but they were +in the minority. All along, the crowd had been more inclined for private +revenge than for martial deeds of valour; the Bastille had been taken by +daylight; the effort might not have been so successful on a pitch-black +night such as this, when one could not see one's hand before one's eyes, +and the drizzling rain went through to the marrow. + +"They've got through one of the barriers by now!" suggested the same +voice from out the darkness. + +"The barriers--the barriers!" came in sheeplike echo from the crowd. + +The little group of fugitives and their friends tightened their hold on +one another. + +They had understood at last. + +"It is for us to see that the crowd does what we want," the Scarlet +Pimpernel had said. + +He wanted it to take him and his friends out of Paris, and, by God! he +was like to succeed. + +Juliette's heart within her beat almost to choking; her strong little +hand gripped Deroulede's fingers with the wild strength of a mad +exultation. + +Next to the man to whom she had given her love and her very soul she +admired and looked up to the remarkable and noble adventurer, the +high-born and exquisite dandy, who with grime-covered face, and strong +limbs encased in filthy clothes, was playing the most glorious part ever +enacted upon the stage. + +"To the barriers--to the barriers!" + +Like a herd of wild horses, driven by the whip of the herdsmen, the mob +began to scatter in all directions. Not knowing what it wanted, not +knowing what it would find, half forgetting the very cause and object of +its wrath, it made one gigantic rush for the gates of the great city +through which the prisoners were supposed to have escaped. + +The three Englishmen and Deroulede, with Juliette well protected in +their midst, had not joined the general onrush as yet. The crowd in the +open place was still very thick, the outward-branching streets were very +narrow: through these the multitude, scampering, hurrying, scurrying, +like a human torrent let out of a whirlpool, rushed down headlong +towards the barriers. + +Up the Rue Turbigo to the Belleville gate, the Rue des Filles, and the +Rue du Chemin Vert, towards Popincourt, they ran, knocking each other +down, jostling the weaker ones on one side, trampling others underfoot. +They were all rough, coarse creatures, accustomed to these wild +bousculades, ready to pick themselves up, again after any number of +falls; whilst the mud was slimy and soft to tumble on, and those who did +the trampling had no shoes on their feet. + +They rushed out from the dark, open place, these creatures of the night, +into streets darker still. + +On they ran--on! on!--now in thick, heaving masses, anon in loose, +straggling groups--some north, some south, some east, some west. + +But it was from the east that came the seagull's cry. + +The little band ran boldly towards the east. Down the Rue de la +Republique they followed their leader's call. The crowd was very thick +here; the Barriere Menilmontant was close by, and beyond it there was +the cemetery of Pere Lachaise. It was the nearest gate to the Temple +Prison, and the mob wanted to be up and doing, not to spend too much +time running along the muddy streets and getting wet and cold, but to +repeat the glorious exploits of the 14th of July, and capture the +barriers of Paris by force of will rather than force of arms. + +In this rushing mob the four men, with Juliette in their midst, remained +quite unchallenged, mere units in an unruly crowd. + +In a quarter of an hour Menilmontant was reached. + +The great gates of the city were well guarded by detachments of the +National Guard, each under command of an officer. Twenty strong at +most--what was that against such a throng? + +Who had ever dreamed of Paris being stormed from within? + +At every gate to the north and east of the city there was now a rabble +some four or five thousand strong, wanting it knew not what. Everyone +had forgotten what it was that caused him or her to rush on so blindly, +so madly, towards the nearest barrier. + +But everyone knew that he or she wanted to get through that barrier, to +attack the soldiery, to knock down the captain of the Guard. + +And with a wild cry every city gate was stormed. + +Like one huge wind-tossed wave, the populace on that memorable night of +Fructidor, broke against the cordon of soldiery, that vainly tried to +keep it back. Men and women, drunk with brandy and exultation, shouted +"_Quatorze Juillet!_" and amidst curses and threats demanded the opening +of the gates. + +The people of France _would_ have its will. + +Was it not the supreme lord and ruler of the land, the arbiter of the +Fate of this great, beautiful, and maddened country? + +The National Guard was powerless; the officers in command could offer +but feeble resistance. + +The desultory fire, which in the darkness and the pouring rain did very +little harm, had the effect of further infuriating the mob. + +The drizzle had turned to a deluge, a veritable heavy summer downpour, +with occasional distant claps of thunder and incessant sheet-lightning, +which ever and anon illumined with its weird, fantastic flash this +heaving throng, these begrimed faces, crowned with red caps of Liberty, +these witchlike female creatures with wet, straggly hair and gaunt, +menacing arms. + +Within half-an-hour the people of Paris was outside its own gates. + +Victory was complete. The Guard did not resist; the officers had +surrendered; the great and mighty rabble had had its way. + +Exultant, it swarmed around the fortifications and along the _terrains +vauges_ which it had conquered by its will. + +But the downpour was continuous, and with victory came satiety--satiety +coupled with wet skins, muddy feet, tired, wearied bodies, and throats +parched with continual shouting. + +At Menilmontant, where the crowd had been thickest, the tempers highest, +and the yells most strident, there now stretched before this tired, +excited throng, the peaceful vastness of the cemetery of Pere Lachaise. + +The great alleys of sombre monuments, the weird cedars with their +fantastic branches, like arms of a hundred ghosts, quelled and awed +these hooting masses of degraded humanity. + +The silent majesty of this city of the dead seemed to frown with +withering scorn on the passions of the sister city. + +Instinctively the rabble was cowed. The cemetery looked dark, dismal, +and deserted. The flashed of lightning seemed to reveal ghostlike +processions of the departed heroes of France, wandering silently amidst +the tombs. + +And the populace turned with a shudder away from this vast place of +eternal peace. + +From within the cemetery gates, there was suddenly heard the sound of a +sea-mew calling thrice to its mate. And five dark figures, wrapped in +cloaks, gradually detached themselves from the throng, and one by one +slipped into the grounds of Pere Lachaise through that break in the +wall, which is quite close to the main entrance. + +Once more the sea-gull's cry. + +Those in the crowd who heard it, shivered beneath their dripping +clothes. They thought it was a soul in pain risen from one of the +graves, and some of the women, forgetting the last few years of +godlessness, hastily crossed themselves, and muttered an invocation to +the Virgin Mary. + +Within the gates all was silent and at peace. The sodden earth gave +forth no echo of the muffled footsteps, which slowly crept towards the +massive block of stone, which covers the graves of the immortal lovers +--Abelard and Heloise. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +Conclusion. + + +There is but little else to record. + +History has told us how, shamefaced, tired, dripping, the great, +all-powerful people of Paris quietly slunk back to their homes, even +before the first cock-crow in the villages beyond the gates, acclaimed +the pale streak of dawn. + +But long before that, even before the church bells of the great city had +tolled the midnight hour, Sir Percy Blakeney and his little band of +followers had reached the little tavern which stands close to the +farthest gate of Pere Lachaise. + +Without a word, like six silent ghosts, they had traversed the vast +cemetery, and reached the quiet hostelry, where the sounds of the +seething revolution only came, attenuated by their passage through the +peaceful city of the dead. + +English gold had easily purchased silence and good will from the +half-starved keeper of this wayside inn. A huge travelling chaise +already stood in readiness, and four good Flanders horses had been +pawing the ground impatiently for the past half hour. From the window of +the chaise old Petronelle's face, wet with anxious tears, was peering +anxiously. + +A cry of joy and surprise escaped Deroulede and Juliette, and both +turned, with a feeling akin to awe, towards the wonderful man who had +planned and carried through this bold adventure. + +"Nay, my friend," said Sir Percy, speaking more especially to Deroulede; +"if you only knew how simple it all was! Gold can do so many things, and +my only merit seems to be the possession of plenty of that commodity. +You told me yourself how you had provided for old Petronelle. Under the +most solemn assurance that she would meet her young mistress here, I got +her to leave Paris. She came out most bravely this morning in one of the +market carts. She is so obviously a woman of the people, that no one +suspected her. As for the worthy couple who keep this wayside hostel, +they have been well paid, and money soon procures a chaise and horses. +My English friends and I, we have our own passports, and one for +Mademoiselle Juliette, who must travel as an English lady, with her old +nurse, Petronelle. There are some decent clothes in readiness for us all +in the inn. A quarter of an hour in which to don them and we must on our +way. You can use your own passport, of course; your arrest has been so +very sudden that it has not yet been cancelled, and we have an eight +hours' start of our enemies. They'll wake up to-morrow morning, begad! +and find that you have slipped through their fingers." + +He spoke with easy carelessness, and that slow drawl of his, as if he +were talking airy nothings in a London drawing-room, instead of +recounting the most daring, most colossal piece of effrontery the +adventurous brain of man could conceive. + +Deroulede could say nothing. His own noble heart was too full of +gratitude towards his friend to express it all in a few words. + +And time, of course, was precious. + +Within the prescribed quarter of an hour the little band of heroes had +doffed their grimy, ragged clothes, and now appeared dressed as +respectable bourgeois of Paris _en route_ for the country. Sir Percy +Blakeney had donned the livery of a coachman of a well-to-do house, +whilst Lord Anthony Dewhurst wore that of an English lacquey. + +Five minutes later Deroulede had lifted Juliette into the travelling +chaise, and in spite of fatigue, of anxiety, and emotion, it was +immeasurable happiness to feel her arm encircling his shoulders in +perfect joy and trust. + +Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and Lord Hastings joined them inside the chaise; +Lord Anthony sat next to Sir Percy on the box. + +And whilst the crowd of Paris was still wondering why it had stormed the +gates of the city, the escaped prisoners were borne along the muddy +roads of France at breakneck speed northward to the coast. + +Sir Percy Blakeney held the reins himself. With his noble heart full of +joy, the gallant adventurer himself drove his friends to safety. + +They had an eight hours' start, and The League of The Scarlet Pimpernel +had done its work thoroughly: well provided with passports, and with +relays awaiting them at every station of fifty miles or so, the journey, +though wearisome was free from further adventure. + +At Le Havre the little party embarked on board Sir Percy Blakeney's +yacht the _Daydream,_ where they met Madame Deroulede and Anne Mie. + +The two ladies, acting under the instructions of Sir Percy, had as +originally arranged, pursued their journey northwards, to the populous +seaport town. + +Anne Mie's first meeting with Juliette was intensely pathetic. The poor +little cripple had spent the last few days in an agony of remorse, +whilst the heavy travelling chaise bore her farther and farther away +from Paris. + +She thought Juliette dead, and Paul a prey to despair, and her tender +soul ached when she remembered that it was she who had given the final +deadly stab to the heart of the man she loved. + +Hers was the nature born to abnegation: aye! and one destined to find +bliss therein. And when one glance in Paul Deroulede's face told her +that she was forgiven, her cup of joy at seeing him happy beside his +beloved, was unalloyed with any bitterness. + +<tb> + +It was in the beautiful, rosy dawn of one of the last days of that +memorable Fructidor, when Juliette and Paul Deroulede, standing on the +deck of the _Daydream,_ saw the shores of France gradually receding from +their view. + +Deroulede's arm was round his beloved, her golden hair, fanned by the +breeze, brushed lightly against his cheek. + +"Madonna!" he murmured. + +She turned her head to him. It was the first time that they were quite +alone, the first time that all thought of danger had become a mere +dream. + +What had the future in store for them, in that beautiful, strange land +to which the graceful yacht was swiftly bearing them? + +England, the land of freedom, would shelter their happiness and their +joy; and they looked out towards the North, where lay, still hidden in +the arms of the distant horizon, the white cliffs of Albion, whilst the +mist even now was wrapping it its obliterating embrace the shores of the +land where they had both suffered, where they had both learned to love. + +He took her in his arms. + +"My wife!" he whispered. + +The rosy light touched her golden hair; he raised her face to his, and +soul met soul in one long, passionate kiss. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of I Will Repay, by Baroness Emmuska Orczy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I WILL REPAY *** + +***** This file should be named 5090-8.txt or 5090-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/9/5090/ + +Produced by Walter Debeuf, Project Gutenberg volunteer. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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