Free
Robespierre chatted continuously as the meal went on, and Harry
asked himself in astonishment whether he was in a dream, and if
this man before him, talking about his birds, his flowers, and his
life before he came to Paris, could really be the dreaded Robespierre.
After the meal was over his host said:
"As yet I am ignorant of the name of my preserver."
"My name is Henry Sandwith," Harry replied.
"It is not a French name," Robespierre said in surprise.
"I am of English parentage," Harry said quietly, "but have been
resident for some years in France. I was for some time in the service
of the ci-devant Marquis de St. Caux; but since the break-up of his
household I have been shifting for myself as best I could, living
chiefly on the moneys I had earned in his service, and on the
look-out for any employment that may offer."
"England is our enemy," Robespierre said, raising his voice angrily;
"the enemy of free institutions and liberty."
"I know nothing about English politics," Harry replied with a smile;
"nor indeed about any politics. I am but little past eighteen, and
so that I can earn my living I do not ask whether my employer is a
patriot or an aristocrat. It is quite trouble enough to earn one's
living without bothering one's head about politics. If you can put
me in the way of doing so I shall consider that I am well repaid
for the little service I rendered you."
"Assuredly I will do so," Robespierre said. "I am a poor man, you
know. I do not put my hand into the public purse, and I and my
sister live as frugally as we did when we first came to Paris from
Arras. My only gains have been the hatred of the aristocrats and
the love of the people. But though I have not money, I have influence,
and I promise to use it on your behalf. Until I hear of something
suitable you can, if you will, work here with me, and share what
I possess. My correspondence is very heavy. I am overwhelmed with
letters from the provinces begging me to inquire into grievances
and redress wrongs. Can you read and write well?" For from Harry's
words he supposed that he had held some menial post in the household
of the Marquis de St. Caux.
"Yes, I can read and write fairly," Harry said.
"And are you acquainted with the English tongue?"
"I know enough of it to read it," Harry said. "I spoke it when I
was a child."
"If you can read it that will do," Robespierre said. "There are
English papers sent over, and I should like to hear for myself
what this perfidious people say of us, and there are few here who
can translate the language. Do you accept my proposal?"
"Willingly," Harry said.
"Very well, then, come here at nine o'clock in the morning. But
mind you are only filling the post of my secretary until I can find
something better for you to do."
"The post will be a better one some day, Monsieur Robespierre.
Ere long you will be the greatest man in France, and the post of
secretary will be one which may well be envied."
"Ah, I see you know how to flatter," Robespierre said with a smile,
much gratified nevertheless with Harry's words. "You must remember
that I crave no dignities, that I care only for the welfare of
France."
"I know, monsieur, that you are called 'Robespierre the Incorruptible,"'
Harry said; "but, nevertheless, you belong to France, and France
will assuredly see that some day you have such a reward as you
richly merit."
"There was no untruth in that," Harry said to himself as he made
his way down stairs. "These human tigers will meet their doom when
France comes to her senses. He is a strange contrast, this man;
but I suppose that even the tiger is a domestic animal in his own
family. His food almost choked me, and had I not known that Marie's
fate depends upon my calmness, I should assuredly have broken out
and told this dapper little demagogue my opinion of him. But this
is glorious! What news I shall have to give the girls in the morning!
If I cannot ensure Marie's freedom now I should be a bungler
indeed. Had I had the planning of the events of this evening they
could not have turned out better for us."
It was the first time that Harry had called at Louise Moulin's as
early as eight o'clock in the morning, and Jeanne leaped up as he
entered.
"What is it, Harry? You bring us some news, don't you?"
"I do indeed, Jeanne; capital news. Whom do you think I had supper
with last night?"
"Had supper with, Harry!" Jeanne repeated. "What do you mean? How
can I guess whom you had supper with?"
"I am sure you cannot guess, Jeanne, so I will not puzzle your
brain. I had supper with Robespierre."
"With Robespierre!" the two girls repeated in astonishment. "You
are not joking, Harry?" Jeanne went on. "But no, you cannot be
doing that; tell us how you came to have supper with Robespierre."
"My dear Jeanne, I regard it as a special providence, as an answer
from God to your prayers for Marie. I had the good fortune to save
his life."
"Oh, Harry," Jeanne exclaimed, "what happiness! Then Marie's life
will be saved."
"I think I can almost promise you that, Jeanne, though I do not know
yet exactly how it's to be done. But such a piece of good fortune
would never have been sent to me had it not been intended that we
should save Marie. Now, sit down quietly, both of you, and you too,
Louise, and let me tell you all about it, for I have to be with
Robespierre again at nine o'clock."
"Oh, that is fortunate indeed!" Jeanne exclaimed when he had
finished. "Surely he cannot refuse any request you may make now."
"If he does, I must get it out of him somehow," Harry said cheerfully.
"By fair means or foul I will get the order for her release."
"But you don't think he can refuse, Harry?" Jeanne asked anxiously.
"I think he may refuse, Jeanne. He is proud of his integrity and
incorruptibility, and I think it quite possible that he may refuse
to grant Marie's release in return for a benefit done him personally.
However, do not let that discourage you in the least. As I said,
I will have the order by fair means or foul."
At nine o'clock Harry presented himself in readiness for work, and
found that his post would be no sinecure. The correspondence which
he had to go through was enormous. Requests for favours, letters
of congratulation on Robespierre's speeches and motions in the
Assembly, reports of scores of provincial committees, denunciations
of aristocrats, letters of blame because the work of rooting out
the suspects did not proceed faster, entreaties from friends of
prisoners. All these had to be sorted, read, and answered.
Robespierre was, Harry soon found, methodical in the extreme. He
read every letter himself, and not only gave directions how they
were to be answered, but read through the answers when written,
and was most careful before he affixed his signature to any paper
whatever. When it was time for him to leave for the Assembly he
made a note in pencil on each letter how it should be answered,
and directed Harry when he had finished them to leave them on the
table for him on his return.
"I foresee that you will be of great value to me, Monsieur Sandwith,"
he said, "and I shall be able to recommend you for any office that
may be vacant with a feeling of confidence that you will do justice
to my recommendation; or if you would rather, as time goes on,
attach your fortunes to mine, be assured that if I should rise to
power your fortune will be made. When you have done these letters
your time will be your own for the rest of the day. You know our
meal hours, and I can only say that we are punctual to a second."
When Harry had finished he strolled out. He saw that the task of
getting an order for Marie's release would be more difficult than
he had anticipated. He had hoped that by placing it with a batch of
papers before Robespierre he would get him to sign it among others
without reading it, but he now saw that this would be next to
impossible. One thing afforded him grounds for satisfaction. Among
the papers was a list of the prisoners to be brought up on the
following day for trial. To this Robespierre added two names, and
then signed it and sent it back to the prison. There was another
list with the names of the prisoners to be executed on the following
day, and this, Harry learned, was not sent in to the prison authorities
until late in the evening, so that even they were ignorant until
the last moment which of the prisoners were to be called for by
the tumbrils next morning. Thus he would know when Marie was to go
through the mockery of a trial, and would also know when her name
was put on the fatal list for the guillotine. The first fact he
might have been able to learn from his ally in the prison, but the
second and most important he could not have obtained in any other
way.
The work had been frequently interrupted by callers. Members of the
Committee of Public Safety, leaders of the Jacobin and Cordeliers
Clubs, and others, dropped in and asked Robespierre's advice,
or discussed measures to be taken; and after a day or two Harry
found that it was very seldom, except when taking his meals, that
Robespierre was alone while in the house; and as his sister was in
and out of the room all day, the idea of compelling him by force to
sign the order, as they had originally intended to do with Marat,
was clearly impracticable.
Each day after his work was over, and this was generally completed
by about one o'clock, Harry called to see how Victor was getting
on. He was gaining strength, but his brain appeared to make far
less progress than his bodily health. He did not recognize Harry in
the least, and although he would answer questions that were asked
him, his mind appeared a blank as to the past, and he often lay for
hours without speaking a word. After leaving him Harry met Louise
and the two girls at a spot agreed upon the day before, a fresh
meeting-place being arranged each day. He found it difficult to
satisfy them, for indeed each day he became more and more doubtful
as to his ability to get the order of release from Robespierre.
Towards the man himself his feelings were of a mixed kind. He
shuddered at the calmness with which, in his letters to the provincial
committees, he advocated wholesale executions of prisoners. He
wondered at the violence with which, in his shrill, high-pitched
voice, he declaimed in favour of the most revolutionary measures.
He admired the simplicity of his life, his affection for his sister
and his birds, his kindness of heart in all matters in which politics
were not concerned.
Among Robespierre's visitors during the next three weeks was Lebat,
who was, Harry found, an important personage, being the representative
on the Committee of Public Safety of the province of Burgundy, and
one of the most extreme of the frequenters of the Jacobin Club. He
did not recognize Harry, whom he had never noticed particularly on
the occasion of his visits to the chateau, and who, in the somewhat
threadbare black suit which he had assumed instead of the workman's
blouse, wrote steadily at a table apart, taking apparently no notice
of what was going on in the apartment.
But Harry's time was not altogether thrown away. It was his duty
the first thing of a morning to open and sort the letters and lay
them in piles upon the table used by Robespierre himself, and he
managed every day to slip quietly into his pockets several of the
letters of denunciation against persons as aristocrats in disguise
or as being suspected of hostility to the Commune. When Robespierre
left him to go to the Club or the Assembly Harry would write short
notes of warning in a disguised hand to the persons named, and
would, when he went out, leave these at their doors. Thus he had
the satisfaction of saving a considerable number of persons from
the clutches of the revolutionists. He would then, two or three
days later, slip the letters of denunciation, very few of which
were dated, among the rest of the correspondence, satisfied that
when search was made the persons named would already have shifted
their quarters and assumed some other disguise.
February had come and Harry was still working and waiting, busy
for several hours each day writing and examining reports with
Robespierre, striving of an evening to keep up the courage and
spirits of the girls, calling in for a few minutes each day to see
Victor, who, after passing through a long and terrible fever, now
lay weak and apparently unconscious alike of the past and present,
his mind completely gone; but the doctor told Harry that in this
respect he did not think the case was hopeless.
"His strength seems to have absolutely deserted him," he said,
"and his mind is a blank like that of a little child, but I by no
means despair of his gradually recovering; and if he could hear the
voice of the lady you tell me he is engaged to, it might strike a
chord now lying dormant and set the brain at work again."
But as to Marie, Harry could do nothing. Do what he would, he
could hit upon no plan whatever for getting her out of prison; and
he could only wait until some change in the situation or the appearance
of her name in the fatal list might afford some opportunity for
action. It was evident to him that Lebat was not pushing matters
forward, but that he preferred to wait and leave the horror of
months in prison to work upon Marie's mind, and so break her down
that she would be willing enough to purchase her life by a marriage
with him.
There had been some little lull in the work of blood, for in
December all eyes had been turned to the spectacle of the trial of
the king. From the 10th of August he had remained a close prisoner
in the Temple, watched and insulted by his ruffian guards, and
passing the time in the midst of his family with a serenity of mind,
a calmness, and tranquility which went far to redeem the blunders
he had made during the preceding three years. The following is the
account written by the princess royal in her journal of the manner
in which the family passed their days: "My father rose at seven
and said prayers till eight; then dressing himself he was with my
brother till nine, when he came to breakfast with my mother. After
breakfast my father gave us lessons till eleven o'clock; and then
my brother played till midday, when we went to walk together,
whatever the weather was, because at that hour they relieved guard
and wished to see us to be sure of our presence. Our walk was
continued till two o'clock, when we dined. After dinner my father
and mother played at backgammon, or rather pretended to play, in
order to have an opportunity of talking together for a short time.
"At four o'clock my mother went up stairs with us, because the king
then usually took a nap. At six o'clock my brother went down, and
my father gave us lessons till supper at nine. After supper my
mother soon went to bed. We then went up stairs, and the king went
to bed at eleven. My mother worked much at tapestry and made me
study, and frequently read alone. My aunt said prayers and read
the service; she also read many religious books, usually aloud."
But harmless as was the life of the royal family, Danton and the
Jacobins were determined upon having their lives. The mockery of
the trial commenced on the 10th of December. Malesherbes, Tronchet,
and Deseze defended him fearlessly and eloquently, but it was
useless--the king was condemned beforehand. Robespierre and Marat
led the assault. The Girondists, themselves menaced and alarmed,
stood neutral; but on the 15th of January the question was put to
the Assembly, "Is Louis Capet, formerly King of the French, guilty
of conspiracy and attempt against the general safety of the state?"
With scarcely a single exception, the Assembly returned an affirmative
answer, and on the 17th the final vote was taken. Three hundred
and sixty-one voted for death, two for imprisonment, two hundred
and eighty-six for detention, banishment, or conditional death,
forty-six for death but after a delay, twenty-six for death but
with a wish that the Assembly should revise the sentence.
Sentence of death was pronounced. After a sitting which lasted for
thirty-seven hours there was another struggle between the advocates
of delay and those of instant execution, but the latter won; and
after parting with noble resignation from his wife and family, the
king, on the 21st, was executed. His bearing excited the admiration
even of his bitterest foes.
France looked on amazed and appalled at the act, for Louis had
undoubtedly striven his best to lessen abuses and to go with the
people in the path of reform. It was his objection to shed blood,
his readiness to give way, his affection for the people, which had
allowed the Revolution to march on its bloody way without a check.
It was the victims--the nobles, the priests, the delicate women and
cultured men--who had reason to complain; for it was the king's
hatred to resistance which left them at the mercy of their foes.
Louis had been the best friend of the Revolution that slew him.
The trial and execution of the king had at least the good effect of
diverting the minds of Jeanne and Virginie from their own anxieties.
Jeanne was passionate and Virginie tearful in their sorrow and
indignation. Over and over again Jeanne implored Harry to try to
save the king. There were still many Royalists, and indeed the bulk
of the people were shocked and alienated by the violence of the
Convention; and Jeanne urged that Harry might, from his connection
with Robespierre, obtain some pass or document which would enable
the king to escape. But Harry refused to make any attempt whatever
on his behalf.
"In the first place, Jeanne, it would be absolutely impossible for
the king, watched as he is, to escape; and no pass or permit that
Robespierre could give would be of the smallest utility. You must
remember, that although all apparently unite against the king, there
is a never-ending struggle going on in the Convention between the
various parties and the various leaders. Robespierre is but one
of them, although, perhaps, the most prominent; but could I wring
a pass from him even if only to see the king, that pass would not
be respected.
"In the next place, Jeanne, I have nothing to do with these struggles
in France. I am staying here to do what little I can to watch over
you and Virginie, for the sake of your dear parents and because I
love you both; and I have also, if possible, to rescue Marie from
the hands of these murderers. The responsibility is heavy enough;
and could I, by merely using Robespierre's name, rescue the king
and queen and their children and pass them across the frontier, I
would not do it if the act in the slightest degree interfered with
my freedom of action towards you and Marie."
"But Virginie and I would die for the king!" Jeanne said passionately.
"Happily, Jeanne," Harry replied coolly, "your dying would in no
respect benefit him; and as your life is in my eyes of a thousand
times more consequence than that of the king, and as your chances
of safety to some extent depend upon mine, I do not mean to risk
one of those chances for the sake of his majesty. Besides, to tell
you the truth, I have a good deal of liking for my own life, and
have a marked objection to losing my head. You see I have people
at home who are fond of me, and who want to see me back again with
that head on my shoulders."
"I know, Harry; I know," Jeanne said with her eyes full of tears.
"Do not think that I am ungrateful because I talk so. I am always
thinking how wrong it is that you should be staying here risking
your life for us instead of going home to those who love you. I
think sometimes Virginie and I ought to give ourselves up, and then
you could go home." And Jeanne burst into tears.
"My dear Jeanne," Harry said soothingly, "do not worry yourself
about me. It would have been just as dangerous at the time your
father was taken prisoner for me to have tried to escape from
the country as it was to stay here--in fact I should say that it
was a good deal more dangerous; and at present, as Robespierre's
secretary, I am in no danger at all. It is a little disagreeable
certainly serving a man whom one regards in some respects as being
a sort of wild beast; but at the same time, in his own house, I
am bound to say, he is a very decent kind of man and not at all a
bad fellow to get on with.
"As to what I have done for you, so far as I see I have done nothing
beyond bringing you here in the first place, and coming to have a
pleasant chat with you every evening. Nor, with the best will in
the world, have I been able to be of the slightest assistance to
Marie. As we say at home, my intentions are good; but so far the
intentions have borne no useful fruit whatever. Come, Jeanne, dry
your eyes, for it is not often that I have seen you cry. We have
thrown in our lot together, and we shall swim or sink in company.
"You keep up my spirits and I keep up yours. Don't let there be any
talk about gratitude. There will be time enough for that if I ever
get you safely to England. Then, perhaps, I may send in my bill
and ask for payment."
Harry spoke lightly, and Jeanne with a great effort recovered her
composure; and after that, although the trial and danger of the
king were nightly discussed and lamented, she never said a word as
to any possibility of the catastrophe being averted.
One day towards the end of February Harry felt a thrill run through
him as, on glancing over the list of persons to be tried on the
following day, he saw the name of Marie, daughter of the ci-devant
Marquis de St. Caux. Although his knowledge of Robespierre's character
gave him little ground for hope, he determined upon making a direct
appeal.
"I see, citizen," he said--for such was the mode of address universal
at that time--"that among the list of persons to be tried is the
name of Marie de St. Caux."
"Say Marie Caux," Robespierre said reprovingly. "You know de and St.
are both forbidden prefixes. Yes; what would you say about her?"
"I told you, citizen, upon the first night when I came here, that
I had been in the service of the father of this female citizen.
Although I know now that he was one of those who lived upon the
blood of the people, I am bound to say that he always treated his
dependants kindly. His daughter also showed me many marks of kindness,
and this I would now fain return. Citizen, I did you some service
on the night when we first met; and I ask you now, as a full
quittance for that aid, that you will grant me the freedom of this
young woman. Whatever were the crimes of her father, she cannot have
shared in them. She is young, and cannot do harm to any; therefore
I implore you to give me her life."
"I am surprised at your request," Robespierre said calmly. "This
woman belongs to a race who have for centuries oppressed France,
and it is better that they should perish altogether. If she can
convince the tribunal that she is innocent of all crime, undoubtedly
she will be spared; but I cannot, only on account of the obligation
I am under to you, interfere on her behalf; such an act would be
treason to the people, and I hope you know me well enough by this
time to be aware that nothing whatever would induce me to allow my
private inclinations to interfere with the course of justice. Ask
of me all I have, it is little enough, but it is yours; but this
thing I cannot grant you."
For a moment Harry was on the point of bursting out indignantly,
but he checked himself and without a word went on with his writing,
although tears of disappointment for a time almost blinded him; but
he felt it would be hopeless to urge the point further, and that
did he do so he might forfeit the opportunity he now had of learning
what was going on.
Another month passed before the name appeared on the fatal list. In
the meantime Harry had corresponded regularly with Marie by means
of the warder, and had even once seen her and exchanged a few
words with her, having been sent by Robespierre with a letter to
the governor of the prison.
Marie was greatly changed: her colour had faded away, the former
somewhat haughty air and carriage had disappeared, and there was
an expression of patient resignation on her face. Harry had only
the opportunity to whisper to her "Hope always, all is not lost
yet." He had spent hours each day in his lodging imitating the
signature of Robespierre, and he had made up his mind that, should
all other efforts fail, he would boldly present himself at the prison
with an order for Marie's release, with Robespierre's signature
forged at the bottom.
He thought he could write it now plainly enough for it to pass; his
fear was that the prison authorities would not act upon it, unless
presented by a well-known official personage, without sending to
Robespierre to have it verified.
Still but little change had taken place in Victor de Gisons' condition.
He remained in a state almost of lethargy, with an expression of
dull hopelessness on his face; sometimes he passed his hand wearily
across his forehead as if he were trying to recollect something he
had lost; he was still too weak to stand, but Jacques and his wife
would dress him and place him on a couch which Harry purchased for
his use. The worthy couple ran no risk now, for the sharpest spy
would fail to recognize in the bowed-down invalid with vacant face,
the once brilliant Victor de Gisons.
Harry had many talks with Jeanne concerning him. "What should we
do, Harry," the girl said over and over again, "if we could get
Marie away and all get safe together to England, which I begin to
despair now of our ever doing, but if we should do it what should
we say to Marie? She thinks Victor is safe there. Only the other
day, as you know, she sent us out a letter to him. What would she
say when she learned on her arrival in England that Victor has all
this time been lying broken down and in suffering in Paris?"
To this question Harry, for a long time, could give no answer. At
last he said, "I have been thinking it over, Jeanne, and I feel
that we have no right to take Marie away without her knowing the
truth about Victor. His misfortunes have come upon him because he
would stop in Paris to watch over her. I feel now that she has the
right, if she chooses, of stopping in Paris to look after him."
"Oh, Harry, you would never think of our going away and leaving
her!"
"I don't know, Jeanne, if it would not be best. She could stay
in the disguise of a peasant girl with Jacques and his wife; they
would give out that she was Victor's sister who had come to nurse
him. I have great hopes that her voice and presence would do what
we have to do, namely, awaken him from his sad state of lethargy.
They could stay there for months until these evil days are over.
Jacques' workmen friends are accustomed now to Victor being with
him, and there is no chance of any suspicion arising that he is
not what he seems to be, a workman whom Jacques picked up injured
and insensible on that terrible night. It would seem natural that
his sister or his fiance--Marie could pass for whichever she
chose--should come and help take care of him."
"Then if she can stop in Paris with Victor, of course we can stop
with Louise?"
"I am afraid not," Harry said. "Every day the search for suspects
becomes stricter; every day people are being seized and called upon
to produce the papers proving their identity; and I fear, Jeanne,
there is no hope of permanent safety for you save in flight."
It was just a month from the mock trial, at which Marie had been
found guilty and sentenced to death, that Harry received a double
shock. Among the letters of denunciation was the following: "Citizen,
I know that you watch over the state. I would have you know that
for more than seven months two girls have been dwelling with one
Louise Moulin of 15 Rue Michel; there were three of them, but the
eldest has disappeared. This, in itself, is mysterious; the old
woman herself was a servant in the family of the ci-devant Marquis
de St. Caux. She gives out that the girls are relatives of hers,
but it is believed in the neighbourhood that they are aristocrats
in disguise. They receive many visits from a young man of whom no
one knows anything."
Harry felt the colour leave his cheeks, and his hand shook as
he hastily abstracted the note, and he could scarcely master the
meaning of the next few letters he opened.
This was a sudden blow for which he was unprepared. He could not
even think what was best to be done. However, saying to himself
that he had at any rate a few days before him, he resolutely put the
matter aside, to be thought over when he was alone, and proceeded
with his work. After a time he came to the list of those marked
out for execution on the following day, and saw with a fresh pang
the name of Marie de St. Caux.
So the crisis had arrived. That night or never Marie must be rescued,
and his plan of forging Robespierre's signature must be put into
effect that day. He opened the next few papers mechanically, but
steadied himself upon Robespierre asking him a question. For a time
he worked on; but his brain was swimming, and he was on the point
of saying that he felt strangely unwell, and must ask to be excused
his work for that day, when he heard a ring at the bell, and a
moment later Lebat entered the room.
"I have just come from the tribunal, citizen," he said, "and have
seen the list for to-morrow. I have come to you, as I know you are
just, and abhor the shedding of innocent blood. There is among the
number a young girl, who is wholly innocent. I know her well, for
she comes from my province, and her father's chateau was within a
few miles of Dijon. Although her father was a furious aristocrat,
her heart was always with the people. She was good to the poor, and
was beloved by all the tenants on the estate. It is not just that
she should die for the sins of her parents. Moreover, henceforth,
if pardoned, she will be no longer an aristocrat. I respond for
her; for she has promised to marry me, the delegate of Burgundy
to the Commune. The young woman is the daughter of the man called
the Marquis de St. Caux, who met his deserved fate on the 2d of
September."
"You are willing to respond for her, citizen?" Robespierre said.
"I am. The fact that she will be my wife is surely a guarantee?"
"It is," Robespierre said. "What you tell me convinces me that I
can without damage to the cause of the people grant your request.
I am the more glad to do so since my secretary has also prayed
for her life. But though he rendered me the greatest service, and
I owe to him a debt of gratitude, I was obliged to refuse; for
to grant his request would have been to allow private feeling to
interfere with the justice of the people; but now it is different.
You tell me that, except by birth, she is no aristocrat; that she
has long been a friend of the people, and that she is going to be
your wife; on these grounds I can with a good conscience grant her
release."
Lebat had looked with astonishment at Harry as Robespierre spoke.
"Thank you, citizen," he said to Robespierre. "It is an act of justice
which I relied upon from your well-known character. I promise you
that your clemency will not be misplaced, and that she will become a
worthy citizen. May I ask," he said, "how it is that your secretary,
whose face seems familiar to me, is interested in this young woman
also?"
"It is simple enough," Robespierre replied. "He was in the service
of her father."
"Oh, I remember now," Lebat said. "He is English. I wonder, citizen,
that you should give your confidence to one of that treacherous
nation."
"He saved my life," Robespierre replied coldly; "a somewhat good
ground, you will admit, for placing confidence in him."
"Assuredly," Lebat said hastily, seeing that Robespierre was offended.
"And now, citizen, there is another matter of importance on which
I wish to confer with you."
Harry rose.
"Citizen, I will ask you to excuse me from further work to-day.
My head aches badly, and I can scarce see what I am writing."
"I thought you were making some confusion of my papers," Robespierre
said kindly. "By all means put aside your work."
On leaving the room Harry ran up to the attic above, which he had
occupied since he had entered Robespierre's service, rapidly put on
the blue blouse and pantaloons which he had formerly worn, pulled
his cap well down over his eyes, and hurried down stairs. He
stationed himself some distance along the street and waited for
Lebat to come out. Rapidly thinking the matter over, he concluded
that the man would not present himself with the order of release until
after dark, in order that if Marie struggled or tried to make her
escape it would be unnoticed in the street. Lebat had calculated,
of course, that on the presentation of the order the prison officials
would at once lead Marie to the gates whether she wished it or not,
and would, at his order, force her into a vehicle, when she would
be completely in his power, and he could confine her in his own
house or elsewhere until she consented to be his wife.
A quarter of an hour later Lebat came out of the house and walked
down the street. Harry followed him. After walking for some distance
Lebat came to a stand of hackney-coaches and spoke to one of the
drivers. When he had gone on again Harry went up to the man.
"Comrade," he said, "do you wish to do a good action and earn a
couple of gold pieces at the same time?"
"That will suit me admirably," the coachman replied.
"Let one of your comrades look after your horse, then, and let us
have a glass of wine together in that cabaret."
As soon as they were seated at a small table with a measure of wine
before them Harry said:
"That deputy with the red sash who spoke to you just now has engaged
you for a job this evening?"
"He has," the coachman said. "I am to be at the left corner of the
Place de Carrousel at eight this evening."
"He is a bad lot," Harry said; "he is going to carry off a poor
girl to whom he has been promising marriage; but of course we know
better than that. She is a friend of mine, and so were her parents,
and I want to save her. Now what I want to do is to take your place
on the box this evening. I will drive him to the place where he
is to meet her, and when he gets her to the door of his lodging I
shall jump off and give my citizen such a thrashing as will put a
stop to his gallivanting for some time. I will give you ten crowns
for the use of your coach for an hour."
"Agreed!" the coachman said. "Between ourselves, some of these
fellows who pretend to be friends of the people are just as great
scoundrels, ay, and worse, than the aristocrats were. We drivers
know a good many things that people in general don't; but you must
mind, citizen, he carries a sword, you know, and the beating may
turn out the other way."
"Oh, I can get a comrade or two to help," Harry said laughing.
"There are others besides myself who will not see our pretty Isabel
wronged."
"And where shall I get my coach again?"
"At the end of the Rue St. Augustin. I expect I shall be there by
nine o'clock with it; but I am sure not to be many minutes later.
Here is a louis now. I will give you the other when I change places
with you. Be at the Place de Carrousel at half-past seven. I shall
be on the look-out for you.
"I won't fail," the coachman said; "you may rely upon that."
Harry now hurried away to his friend Jacques, and rapidly gave an
account of what had taken place.
"In the first place, Jacques, I want your wife to see her friend
and to get her to take a note instantly to the warder, for him
to give to Mademoiselle de St. Caux. It is to tell her to make
no resistance when Lebat presents the order for her release, but
to go with him quietly; because if she appeals to the warders and
declares that she would rather die than go with him, it is just
possible that they might refuse to let him take her away, saying
that the order was for her release, but not for her delivery to him.
I don't suppose they would do so, because as one of the members of
the Committee of Public Safety he is all-powerful; still it would
be as well to avoid any risk whatever of our scheme failing. I
will drive to the Rue Montagnard, which, as you know, is close to
La Force. It is a quiet street, and it is not likely there will be
anybody about at half-past eight. Will you be there and give me a
hand to secure the fellow?"
"Certainly I will," Jacques said heartily. "What do you propose to
do with him?"
"I propose to tie his hands and feet and gag him, and then drive
to the Rue Bluert, which is close by, and where there are some
unfinished houses. We can toss him in there, and he will be safe
till morning.
"It will be the safest plan to run him through at once and have
done with him," Jacques said. "He will be a dangerous enemy if he
is left alive; and as he would kill you without mercy if he had a
chance, I don't see why you need be overnice with him."
"The man is a scoundrel, and one of a band of men whom I regard as
murderers," Harry said; "but I could not kill him in cold blood."
"You are wrong," Jacques said earnestly, "and you are risking
everything by letting him live. Such a fellow should be killed like
a rat when you get him in a trap."
"It may be so," Harry agreed; "but I could not bring myself to do
it."
Jacques was silent, but not convinced. It seemed to him an act of
the extremest folly to leave so dangerous an enemy alive.
"He would hunt us all down," he said to himself, "Elise and I,
this poor lad and the girl, to say nothing of the Englishman and
the girl's sisters. Well, we shall see. I am risking my head in
this business, and I mean to have my say."
Having made all his arrangements, Harry returned to his attic and
lay down there until evening, having before he went in purchased a
sword. At seven o'clock he placed his pistols in his bosom, girded
on his sword, which would attract no attention, for half the
rabble of Paris carried weapons, and then set out for the Place de
Carrousel. At half-past seven his friend the coachman drew up.
"Ah, here you are!" he said. "You had better take this big cape of
mine; you will find it precious cold on the box; besides he would
notice at once that you are not the coachman he hired if you are
dressed in that blouse."
Harry took off his sword and placed it on the seat, wrapped himself
in the great cape, wound a muffler round the lower part of his
face, and waited. A few minutes after the clock had struck eight
Lebat came along.
"Here we are, citizen," Harry said in a rough voice, "I am glad you
have come, for it's no joke waiting about on such nights as this.
Where am I to drive you to?"
"The prison of La Force," Lebat said, taking his seat in the coach.
Harry's heart beat fast as he drove towards the prison. He felt
sure that success would attend his plans; but the moment was an
exciting one. It did not seem that anything could interpose to prevent
success, and yet something might happen which he had not foreseen
or guarded against. He drove at a little more than a footpace,
for the streets a short distance from the centre of town were only
lighted here and there by a dim oil lamp, and further away they
were in absolute darkness, save for the lights which gleamed through
the casements. At last he reached the entrance to the prison. Lebat
jumped out and rang at the bell.
"What is it, citizen?" the guard said looking through a grille in
the gate.
"I am Citizen Lebat of the Committee of Public Safety, and I have
an order here, signed by Citizen Robespierre, for the release of
the female prisoner known as Marie Caux."
"All right, citizen!" the man said, opening the gate. "It is late
for a discharge; but I don't suppose the prisoner will grumble at
that."
Ten minutes later the gate opened again and Lebat came out with
a cloaked female figure. She hesitated on the top step, and then
refusing to touch the hand Lebat held out to assist her, stepped
down and entered the coach.
"Rue Fosseuse No. 18," Lebat said as he followed her.
Harry drove on, and was soon in the Rue Montagnard. It was a dark
narrow street; no one seemed stirring, and Harry peered anxiously
through the darkness for the figure of Jacques. Presently he heard
a low whistle, and a figure appeared from a doorway. Harry at once
checked the horse.
"What is it?" Lebat asked, putting his head out of the window.
Harry got off the box, and going to the window said in a drunken
voice:
"I want my fare. There is a cabaret only just ahead, and I want a
glass before I go further. My feet are pretty well frozen."
"Drive on, you drunken rascal," Lebat said furiously, "or it will
be worse for you."
"Don't you speak in that way to me, citizen," Harry said hoarsely.
"One man's as good as another in these days, and if you talk like
that to me I will break your head in spite of your red sash."
With an exclamation of rage Lebat sprang from the coach, and as his
foot touched the ground Harry threw his arms round him; but as he
did so he trod upon some of the filth which so thickly littered
the thoroughfare, and slipped. Lebat wrenched himself free and drew
his sword, and before Harry could have regained his feet he would
have cut him down, when he fell himself in a heap from a tremendous
blow which Jacques struck him with his sword.
"Jump inside," Jacques said to Harry. "We may have some one out to
see what the noise is about. He will be no more trouble."
He seized the prostrate body, threw it up on the box, and taking
his seat drove on.
"Marie," Harry said as he jumped in, "thank God you are safe!"
"Oh, Harry, is it you? Can it be true?" And the spirit which had
so long sustained the girl gave way, and leaning her head upon his
shoulder she burst into tears. Harry soothed and pacified her till
the vehicle again came to a stop.
"What is it, Jacques?" Harry asked, putting his head out of the
window.
"Just what we agreed upon," the man said. "Here are the empty
houses. You stop where you are. I will get rid of this trash."
Harry, however, got out.
"Is he dead?" he asked in a low voice.
"Well, considering his head's cut pretty nigh in two, I should think
he was," Jacques said. "It could not be helped, you know; for if
I hadn't struck sharp it would have been all over with you. Anyhow
it's better as it is a hundred times. If you don't value your neck,
I do mine. Now get in again. I sha'n't be two minutes."
He slipped off the red sash and coat and waistcoat of the dead
man, emptied his trouser pockets and turned them inside out, then
lifting the body on his shoulder he carried it to one of the empty
houses and threw it down.
"They will never know who he is," he said to himself "In this
neighbourhood the first comer will take his shirt and trousers. They
will suppose he has been killed and robbed, no uncommon matter in
these days, and his body will be thrown into the public pit, and
no one be any the wiser. I will burn the coat and waistcoat as soon
as I get back."