Marie and Victor
"Are you taking me to the girls, Harry?"
"No," Harry said. "It would not be safe to do so. There are already
suspicions, and they have been denounced."
Marie gave a cry of alarm.
"I have managed to suppress the document, Marie, and we start with
them in a day or two. Still it will be better for you not to go
near them. I will arrange for you to meet them to-morrow."
"Where am I going, then?"
"You are going to the house of a worthy couple, who have shown
themselves faithful and trustworthy by nursing a friend of mine,
who has for nearly six months been lying ill there. You will be
perfectly safe there till we can arrange matters."
"But if Robespierre has signed my release, as they said, I am safe
enough, surely, and can go where I like."
"I think you will be safe from re-arrest here in Paris, Marie, because
you could appeal to him; but outside Paris it might be different.
However, we can talk about that to-morrow, when you have had a good
night's rest."
Harry did not think it necessary to say, that when Lebat was missed
it would probably be ascertained that he was last seen leaving La
Force with her, and that if inquiries were set on foot about him
she might be sought for. However, Marie said no more on the subject,
quite content that Harry should make whatever arrangements he
thought best, and she now began to ask all sorts of questions about
her sisters, and so passed the time until they were close to the
Place de Carrousel; then Harry called Jacques to stop.
"Will you please get out, Marie, and wait with our good friend here
till I return. I shall be back in five minutes. I have to hand the
coach over to its owner."
Jacques threw Lebat's clothes over his arm and got down from the
box. Harry took his seat and drove into the Place, where he found
the coachman awaiting him.
"Have you managed the job?"
"That we have," Harry said. "He has a lesson, and Isabel has gone
off to her friends again. Poor little girl, I hope it will cure her
of her flightiness. Here is your cape and your money, my friend,
and thank you."
"You are heartily welcome," the driver said, mounting his box. "I
wish I could do as well every day; but these are bad times for us,
and money is precious scarce, I can tell you."
Harry soon rejoined Jacques and Marie. There were but few words said
as they made their way through the streets, for Marie was weakened
by her long imprisonment, and shaken by what she had gone through.
She had not asked a single question as to what had become of Lebat;
but she had no doubt that he was killed. She had grown, however,
almost indifferent to death. Day after day she had seen batches
of her friends taken out to execution, and the retribution which
had fallen upon this wretch gave her scarcely a thought, except a
feeling of thankfulness that she was freed from his persecutions.
Completely as she trusted Harry, it was with the greatest difficulty
that she had brought herself to obey his instructions and to place
herself for a moment in the power of her persecutor, and appear to
go with him willingly.
When Lebat told her triumphantly that he had saved her from death,
and that she was to have formed one of the party in the tumbril
on the following morning had he not obtained her release, she had
difficulty in keeping back the indignant words, that she would have
preferred death a thousand times. When he said that he had come to
take her away, she had looked round with a terrified face, as if
to claim the protection of the guards; but he had said roughly:
"It is no use your objecting, you have got to go with me; and
if you are a wise woman you had better make the best of it. After
all I am not very terrible, and you had better marry me than the
guillotine."
So, trembling with loathing and disgust, she had followed him,
resolved that if Harry's plan to rescue her failed she would kill
herself rather than be the wife of this man.
When they reached the house Elise opened the door.
"So you have come, poor lamb!" she said. "Thanks to the good God
that all has turned out well. You will be safe here, my child. We
are rough people, but we will take care of you as if you were our
own."
So saying she led the girl to the little sitting-room which they
had prepared for her, for they had that afternoon taken the other
two rooms on the floor they occupied, which were fortunately to
let, and had fitted them up as a bed-room and sitting-room for her.
There was already a communication existing between the two sets
of apartments, and they had only to remove some brickwork between
the double doors to throw them into one suite. Telling Marie to
sit down, Elise hurried off and returned with a basin of bouillon.
"Drink this, my dear, and then go straight to bed; your friend will
be here in good time in the morning, and then you can talk over
matters with him." She waited to see Marie drink the broth, and
then helped her to undress.
"She will be asleep in five minutes," she said when she rejoined
her husband and Harry. "She is worn out with excitement, but a
night's rest will do wonders for her. Don't come too early in the
morning, Monsieur Sandwith; she is sure to sleep late, and I would
not disturb her till she wakes of herself."
"I will be here at nine," Harry said, "and will go round before
that and tell her sisters. They will be wondering they have seen
nothing of me to-day, but I was afraid to tell them until it was
all over. The anxiety would have been too great for them."
It was fortunate that Robespierre went out early on the following
morning to attend a meeting at the Jacobins, and Harry was therefore
saved the necessity for asking leave to absent himself again. At
eight o'clock he was at Louise Moulin's.
"What is it, Harry?" Jeanne exclaimed as he entered. "I can see
you have news. What is it?"
"I have news," Harry said, "and good news, but you must not excite
yourselves."
"Have you found a way for getting Marie out?"
"Yes, I have found a way."
"A sure, certain way, Harry?" Virginie asked. "Not only a chance?"
"A sure, certain way," Harry replied. "You need have no more fear;
Marie will certainly be freed."
The two girls stood speechless with delight. It never occurred to
them to doubt Harry's words when he spoke so confidently.
"Have you told us all, Harry?" Jeanne asked a minute later, looking
earnestly in his face. "Can it be? Is she really out already?"
"Yes," Harry said, "thank God, dears, your sister is free."
With a cry of delight Virginie sprang to him, and throwing her
arms round his neck, kissed him in the exuberance of her happiness.
Louise threw her apron over her head and burst into tears of
thankfulness, while Jeanne put her hand on his shoulder and said:
"Oh, Harry, how can we ever thank you enough for all you have done
for us?"
Six months back Jeanne would probably have acted as Virginie did,
but those six months had changed her greatly; indeed, ever since
she received that note from Marie, which she had never shown even
to Virginie, there had been a shade of difference in her manner to
Harry, which he had more than once noticed and wondered at.
It was some little time before the girls were sufficiently composed
to listen to Harry's story.
"But why did you not bring her here, Harry?" Virginie asked. "Why
did you take her somewhere else?"
"For several reasons, Virginie. I have not told you before, but there
is no reason why you should not know now, that Victor is still in
Paris."
Virginie uttered an exclamation of wonder.
"He stopped here to look after you all, but he has had a very bad
illness, and is still terribly weak, and does not even know me.
Marie will nurse him. I have great hopes that he will know her,
and that she may be able in time to effect a complete cure. In the
next place I think it would be dangerous to bring her here, for we
must leave in a very few days."
"What, go without her?"
"Yes, I am afraid so, Virginie. I have learned, Louise, that
some of your neighbours have their suspicions, and that a letter
of denunciation has already been sent, so it will be absolutely
necessary to make a move. I have suppressed the first letter, but
the writer will probably not let the matter drop, and may write to
Danton or Marat next time, so we must go without delay. You cannot
change your lodging, for they would certainly trace you; besides,
at the present time the regulations about lodgers are so strict that
no one would dare receive you until the committee of the district
have examined you and are perfectly satisfied. Therefore, I think
we must go alone. Marie is wanted here, and I think she will be
far safer nursing Victor than she would be with us; besides, now
she has been freed by Robespierre's orders, I do not think there
is any fear of her arrest even if her identity were discovered.
Lastly, it would be safer to travel three than four. Three girls
travelling with a young fellow like me would be sure to attract
attention. It will be difficult enough in any case, but it would
certainly be worse with her with us."
"But we are to see her, Harry?" Jeanne said. "Surely we are not to
go away without seeing Marie!"
"Certainly not, Jeanne; I am not so cruel as that. This evening,
after dark, we will meet in the gardens of the Tuileries. Louise,
will you bring them down and be with them near the main entrance?
I will bring Marie there at six o'clock. And now I must be off; I
have to break the news to Marie that Victor is in the same house
with her and ill. I did not tell her last night. She will be better
able to bear it after a good night's sleep."
Marie was up and dressed when Harry arrived, and was sitting by
the fire in the little kitchen.
"I have just left your sisters, Marie," Harry said, "and you may
imagine their delight at the news I gave them. You are to see them
this evening in the gardens of the Tuileries."
"Oh, Harry, how good you are! How much you have done for us!"
Harry laughed lightly.
"Not very much yet; besides, it has been a pleasure as well as a
duty. The girls have both been so brave, and Jeanne has the head
of a woman."
"She is nearly a woman now, Harry," Marie said gently. "She is some
months past sixteen, and though you tell me girls of that age in
England are quite children, it is not so here. Why, it is nothing
uncommon for a girl to marry at sixteen."
"Well, at anyrate," Harry said, "Jeanne has no time for any thought
of marrying just at present. But there is another thing I want to
tell you about. I have first a confession to make. I have deceived
you."
"Deceived me!" Marie said with a smile. "It can be nothing very
dreadful, Harry. Well, what is it?"
"It is more serious than you think, Marie. Now you know that when
the trouble began I felt it quite out of the question for me to
run away, and leave you all here in Paris unprotected. Such a thing
would have been preposterous."
"You think so, Harry, because you have a good heart; but most people
would have thought of themselves, and would not have run all sorts
of risks for the sake of three girls with no claim upon them."
"Well, Marie, you allow then that a person with a good heart would
naturally do as I did."
"Well, supposing I do, Harry, what then?"
"You must still further allow that a person with a good heart, and
upon whom you had a great claim, would all the more have remained
to protect you."
"What are you driving at, Harry, with your supposition?" she said,
her cheek growing a little paler as a suspicion of the truth flashed
upon her.
"Well, Marie, you mustn't be agitated, and I hope you will not
be angry; but I ask you how, as he has a good heart, and you have
claims upon him, could you expect Victor de Gisons to run away like
a coward and leave you here?"
Marie had risen to her feet and gazed at him with frightened eyes.
"What, is it about him that you deceived me! Is it true that he
did not go away? Has anything happened to him? Oh, Harry, do not
say he is dead!"
"He is not dead, Marie, but he has been very, very ill. He was with
me at La Force on that terrible night, and saw his father brought
out to be murdered. The shock nearly killed him. He has had brain
fever, and has been at death's door. At present he is mending, but
very, very slowly. He knows no one, not even me, but I trust that
your voice and your presence will do wonders for him."
"Where is he, Harry?" Marie said as she stood with clasped hands,
and a face from which every vestige of colour had flown. "Take me
to him at once."
"He is in the house, Marie; that is why I have brought you here.
These good people have nursed and concealed him for five months."
Marie made a movement towards the door.
"Wait, Marie, you cannot go to him till you compose yourself. It
is all-important that you should speak to him, when you see him,
in your natural voice, and you must prepare yourself for a shock.
He is at present a mere wreck, so changed that you will hardly know
him."
"You are telling me the truth, Harry? You are not hiding from me
that he is dying?"
"No, dear; I believe, on my honour, that he is out of danger now,
and that he is progressing. It is his mind more than his body that
needs curing. It may be a long and difficult task, Marie, before he
is himself again; but I believe that with your care and companionship
he will get round in time, but it may be months before that."
"Time is nothing," Marie said. "But what about the girls?"
"They must still be under my charge, Marie. I shall start with
them in a day or two and try to make for the sea-shore, and then
across to England. Suspicions have been aroused; they have already
been denounced, and may be arrested at any time. Therefore it is
absolutely necessary that they should fly at once; but I thought
that you would consider it your first duty to stay with Victor,
seeing that to him your presence is everything, while you could do
nothing to assist your sisters, and indeed the fewer of us there
are the better."
"Certainly it is my duty," Marie said firmly.
"You will be perfectly safe here under the care of Jacques and his
wife. They have already given out to their neighbours that Victor's
fiance is coming to help nurse him, and even if by any possibility
a suspicion of your real position arises, you have Robespierre's
pardon as a protection. This state of things cannot last for
ever; a reaction must come; and then if Victor is cured, you will
be able to escape together to England."
"Leave me a few minutes by myself, Harry. All this has come so
suddenly upon me that I feel bewildered."
"Certainly," Harry said. "It is best that you should think things
over a little. No wonder you feel bewildered and shaken with all
the trials you have gone through."
Marie went to her room and returned in a quarter of an hour.
"I am ready now," she said, and by the calm and tranquil expression
of her face Harry felt that she could be trusted to see Victor.
"I have a feeling," she went on, "that everything will come right
in the end. I have been saved almost by a miracle, and I cannot
but feel that my life has been spared in order that I might take
my place here. As to the girls, it was a shock at first when you
told me that fresh danger threatened them, and that I should not
be able to share their perils upon their journey; but I could not
have aided them, and God has marked out my place here. No, Harry,
God has protected me so far, and will aid me still. Now I am ready
for whatever may betide."
"One moment before you enter, Marie. You are prepared, I know,
to see a great change in Victor, but nevertheless you cannot but
be shocked at first. Do not go up to him or attract his attention
till you have overcome this and are able to speak to him in your
natural voice. I think a great deal depends upon the first impression
you make on his brain. Your voice has a good deal changed in the
last six months; it would be strange if it had not; but I want you
to try and speak to him in the bright cheerful tone he was accustomed
to hear."
Marie nodded. "One moment," she said, as she brushed aside the tears
which filled her eyes, drew herself up with a little gesture that
reminded Harry of old times, and then with a swift step passed
through the door into Victor's room. Whatever she felt at the sight
of the wasted figure lying listlessly with half-closed eyes on the
couch, it only showed itself by a swift expression of pain which
passed for a moment across her face and then was gone.
"Victor," she said in her clear ringing voice, "Victor, my well
beloved, I am come to you." The effect upon Victor was instantaneous.
He opened his eyes with a start, half rose from his couch and held
out his arms towards her.
"Marie," he said in a faint voice, "you have come at last. I have
wanted you so much."
Then, as Marie advanced to him, and kneeling by his side, clasped
him in her arms, Elise and Harry stole quietly from the room. It
was nearly an hour before Marie came out. There was a soft glow of
happiness on her face, though her cheeks were pale.
"Not yet!" she said, as she swept past them into her own room.
In a few minutes she reappeared.
"Pardon me," she said, holding out her hands to Harry and Elise,
"but I had to thank the good God first. Victor is quite sensible
now, but oh, so weak! He remembers nothing of the past, but seems
to think he is still in Burgundy, and has somehow had an illness.
Then he spoke of the duke and my dear father and mother as being
still alive, and that he hoped they would let me come to him
now. I told him that all should be as he wished as soon as he got
stronger, but that he must not think of anything now, and that
I would nurse him, and all would be well. He seemed puzzled about
my dress"--for Marie had already put on the simple attire which
had been prepared for her--"but I told him that it was fit for a
sick-room, and he seemed satisfied. He has just dozed off to sleep,
and I will go in and sit with him now till he wakes."
"When he does, mademoiselle, I will have some broth and a glass of
good burgundy ready for him," Elise said.
"Thank you; but please call me Marie in future. There are no
mesdemoiselles in France now, and I shall call you Elise instead
of Madame. And Harry, would you mind telling the girls that I will
meet them to-morrow instead of this evening. I long to see them, oh
so, so much; but I should not like to leave him for a moment now.
I fear so that his memory might go again if he were to wake and
miss me."
"I was going to propose it myself, Marie," Harry said. "It is
all-important to avoid any agitation now. To-morrow, I hope, it
will be safer, and the doctor will give him a sleeping-draught, so
that he shall not wake while you are away. But, Marie, remember it
will be a farewell visit, for I dare not let them stay more than
another day. They may be denounced again at any hour, for the man
who wrote to Robespierre, if he finds that nothing comes of it,
may go to the local committee, and they will not lose an hour, you
may be sure."
"I must see them this evening, then," Marie said hurriedly. "The doctor
will be here, you say, soon. Victor must have his sleeping-draught
this afternoon instead of to-morrow. They must go at once. I
should never forgive myself if, by putting off our parting for
twenty-four hours, I caused them to fall into the hands of these
wretches; so please hurry on all the arrangements so that they may
leave the first thing to-morrow morning."
"It will be best," Harry said, "if you will do it, Marie. I own
that I am in a fever of apprehension. I will go there at once to
tell them that all must be in readiness by to-night. They will be
glad indeed to hear that your presence has done such wonders for
Victor. They will be able to leave you with a better heart if
they feel that your stay here is likely to bring health to him and
happiness to both of you."
"A week since," Marie said, "it did not seem to me that I could
ever be happy again; but though everything is still very dark, the
clouds seem lifting."
The girls were greatly rejoiced when they heard the good news that
Victor had recognized Marie, and that Harry had now hopes that he
would do well.
"And now we must talk about ourselves," Harry said. "We must not
lose another hour. Now, Louise, you must take part in our council.
We have everything to settle, and only a few hours to do it in. I
should like, if possible, that we should not come back here this
evening after you have once left the house. The man who denounced
you will expect that something would be done to-day, and when he
sees that nothing has come of his letter he may go this evening
to the local committee, and they would send men at once to arrest
you. No doubt he only wrote to Robespierre first, thinking he would
get credit and perhaps a post of some sort for his vigilance in the
cause. But if Louise thinks that it cannot possibly be managed, I
will write a letter at once to him in Robespierre's name, saying
that his letter has been noted and your movements will be closely
watched, and thanking him for his zeal in the public service."
"No, I think we are ready," Jeanne said. "Of course we have
been talking it over for weeks, and agreed it was better to be in
readiness whenever you told us it was time to go. Louise will tell
you all about it."
"The disguises are all ready, Monsieur Sandwith; and yesterday
when you said that my dear mademoiselle could not go with them,
I settled, if you do not see any objection, to go with the dear
children."
"I should be very glad," Harry said eagerly, for although he had
seen no other way out of it, the difficulties and inconveniences
of a journey alone with Jeanne and Virginie had been continually
on his mind. The idea of taking the old woman with them had never
occurred to him, but now he hailed it as a most welcome solution
of the difficulty.
"That will be a thousand times better in every way, for with you
with us it would excite far less remark than three young people
travelling alone. But I fear, Louise, that the hardships we may
have to undergo will be great."
"It matters little," the old woman said. "I nursed their mother,
and have for years lived on her bounty; and gladly now will I
give what little remains to me of life in the service of her dear
children. I know that everything is turned topsy-turvy in our poor
country at present, but as long as I have life in my body I will
not let my dear mistress's children be, for weeks perhaps, wandering
about with only a young gentleman to protect them, and Mademoiselle
Jeanne almost a woman too."
"Yes, it is better in every way," Harry said. "I felt that it would
be a strange position, but it seemed that it could not be helped;
however, your offer gets us out of the embarrassment. So your
disguises are ready?"
"Yes, monsieur," Louise said; "I have a boy's suit for Mademoiselle
Virginie. She did not like it at first, but I thought that if
mademoiselle went with you it would be strange to have three girls
journeying under the charge of one young man."
"I think it a very good plan, Louise, but you must get out of the
way of calling me monsieur or else it will slip out before people.
Now what I propose is, that when we get fairly away we shall buy a
horse and cart, for with you with us we can go forward more boldly
than if we were alone.
"You will be grandmother, and we shall be travelling from a farm
near Etampes to visit your daughter, who is married to a farmer near
Nantes. That will be a likely story now, and we can always make a
detour to avoid towns. It will be dark when you go out this evening,
so you can take three bundles of clothes with you. The only thing
is about to-night. The weather is bitterly cold, and it is out of
the question that you should stop out all night, and yet we could
not ask for a lodging close to Paris.
"Oh, I see now! The best plan will be for you all to sleep to-night
at Jacques'. The good people will manage somehow; then we can
start early in the morning. Yes, and in that way it will not be
necessary for Marie to go out and leave Victor."
"That will certainly be the best way," Louise said. "I have been
wondering ever since you said we must start this evening, what
would become of us to-night. When we once get fairly away from
Paris it will be easier, for the country people are kind-hearted,
and I think we shall always be able to get shelter for the night;
but just outside Paris it would be different. Then where shall we
meet this evening?"
"I will be at the end of the street," Harry said. "It is quite
dark by five, so do you start a quarter of an hour later; hide your
bundles under your cloaks, for if that fellow is on the look-out he
might follow you if he thought you were leaving. Draw your blinds
up when you leave, Louise, so that the room will look as usual,
and then it may be some time before anyone suspects that you have
left; and if I were you I would mention to some of your neighbours
this afternoon that you have had a letter from your friends in
Burgundy, and are going away soon with your nieces to stay with
them for a while. You had better pay your rent for three months
in advance, and tell your landlord the same thing; saying that you
may go suddenly anytime, as a compere who is in Paris, and is also
going back, is going to take charge of you on the journey, and that
he may call for you at any time. Thus when he finds that you have
left, your absence will be accounted for; not that it makes much
difference, for I hope that when you have seen the girls safely to
England you will make your home with them there."
"Yes, I shall never come back here," the old woman said, "never,
even if I could. Paris is hateful to me now, and I have no reason
for ever wanting to come back."
"In that case," Harry said smiling, "we may as well save the three
months' rent."
"Oh, how I long to be in England," Virginie exclaimed, "and to see
dear Ernest and Jules again! How anxious they must be about us, not
having heard of us all this long time! How shall we know where to
find them?"
"You forget, Virginie," Jeanne said, "it was arranged they should
go to Harry's father when they got to England, and he will know
where they are living; there is sure to be no mistake about that,
is there, Harry?"
"None at all," Harry said. "You may rely upon it that directly you
get to my father you will hear where your brothers are. And now I
will go and tell Marie that there is no occasion for Victor to take
a sleeping draught."
Marie was delighted when she heard that she was going to have her
sisters with her for the whole evening and night, and Elise busied
herself with preparations for the accommodation of her guests.
Harry then went back to his attic, made his clothes into a bundle,
and took up the bag of money from its hiding-place under a board
and placed it in his pocket.
He had, since he had been with Robespierre, gradually changed the
silver for gold in order to make it more convenient to carry, and
it was now of comparatively little weight, although he had drawn
but slightly upon it, except for the payment of the bribe promised
to the warder. His pistols were also hidden under his blouse.
He went down stairs and waited the return of Robespierre.
"Citizen," he said when he entered, "circumstances have occurred
which render it necessary for me to travel down to Nantes to escort
a young girl, a boy, and an old woman to that town; they cannot
travel alone in such times as these, and they have a claim upon me
which I cannot ignore."
"Surely, friend Sandwith," Robespierre said, "the affairs of France
are of more importance than private matters like these."
"Assuredly they are, citizen; but I cannot flatter myself that
the affairs of France will be in any way injured by my temporary
absence. My duty in this matter is clear to me, and I can only
regret that my temporary absence may put you to some inconvenience.
But I have a double favour to ask you: the one is to spare me for
a time; the second, that you will give me papers recommending
me, and those travelling with me, to the authorities of the towns
through which we shall pass. In these times, when the enemies of
the state are travelling throughout France seeking to corrupt the
minds of the people, it is necessary to have papers showing that
one is a good citizen."
"But I have no authority," Robespierre said. "I am neither a minister
nor a ruler."
"You are not a minister, citizen, but you are assuredly a ruler. It
is to you men look more than to any other. Danton is too headstrong
and violent. You alone combine fearlessness in the cause of France
with that wisdom and moderation which are, above all things,
necessary in guiding the state through its dangers."
Robespierre's vanity was so inordinate that he accepted the compliment
as his due, though he waved his hand with an air of deprecation.
"Therefore, citizen," Harry went on, "a letter from you would be
more powerful than an order from another."
"But these persons who travel with you, citizen--how am I to be
sure they are not enemies of France?"
"France is not to be shaken," Harry said, smiling, "by the efforts
of an old woman of seventy and a young boy and girl; but I can
assure you that they are no enemies of France, but simple inoffensive
people who have been frightened by the commotion in Paris, and long
to return to the country life to which they are accustomed. Come,
citizen, you refused the first boon which I asked you, and, methinks,
cannot hesitate at granting one who has deserved well of you this
slight favour."
"You are right," Robespierre said. "I cannot refuse you, even if
the persons who accompany you belong to the class of suspects, of
which, mind, I know nothing, though I may have my suspicions. I
have not forgotten, you know, that you asked for the life of the
daughter of the ci-devant Marquis de St. Caux; and for aught I know
these children may be of the same breed. But I will not ask you.
Did I know it, not even the obligation I am under to you would you
induce me to do what you ask; for although as children they can
do no harm, they might do so were they allowed to grow up hating
France. All children of suspects are, as you know, ordered to be
placed in the state schools, in order that they may there learn
to love the people of France and to grow up worthy citizens. Now,
how shall I word it?" he said, taking up a pen; and Harry dictated:
"I hereby recommend Citizen Henri Sandwith, age 19, who has been
acting as my confidential secretary, to all public authorities,
together with Citoyenne Moulin and her two grandchildren, with whom
he is travelling."
To this Robespierre signed his name and handed the paper to Harry.
"How long will you be before you return?" he asked.
"I cannot say exactly," Harry replied; "as after I have seen them
to their destination I may stop with them for a few weeks."
Robespierre nodded and held out his hand.
"I shall be glad to have you with me again, for I have conceived
a strong friendship for you, and think none the worse of you for
your showing your gratitude to the family in whom you are interested."
Harry then went into the kitchen, where Robespierre's sister was
preparing the next meal, and said good-bye to her.
She had taken a fancy to her brother's young secretary, and expressed
a hope that his absence would be but a short one, telling him that
Robespierre had said only the day before how much work he had saved
him, and that he was determined to push his fortunes to the utmost.
Having thus paved the way for an appeal to Robespierre should he
find himself in difficulties on the road, Harry proceeded to Jacques'
house and waited there until it was time to go up to meet Louise
and the girls.
Victor did not wake until the afternoon. The doctor had called
as usual, but had not roused him. He had been told what had taken
place, and had held out hope to Marie that Victor's improvement
would be permanent, and that he would now make steady progress
towards recovery.
At the appointed hour Harry was at his post to meet the party. They
came along within a few minutes of the time named, but instead of
stopping to greet him they walked straight on, Jeanne saying as
she passed him:
"I think we are followed."
Harry at once drew back and allowed them to go fifty yards on before
he moved after them. As there were many people about, it was some
little time before he could verify Jeanne's suspicions; then he
noticed that a man, walking a short distance ahead of him, followed
each turning that the others took.
Harry waited until they were in a quiet street, and then quickened
his pace until he was close behind the man. Then he drew one of
his pistols, and, springing forward, struck him a heavy blow on
the head with its butt. He fell forward on his face without a cry;
and Harry, satisfied that he had stunned him, ran on and overtook
the others, and, turning down the first street they came to, was
assured that they were safe from pursuit.
"We had noticed a man lounging against the house opposite all the
afternoon," Jeanne said, "and came to the conclusion that he must
be watching us; so we looked out for him when we came out, and
noticed that as soon as we went on he began to walk that way too.
So I told Louise to walk straight on without stopping when we came
up to you. I was sure you would manage somehow to get rid of him."
Harry laughed.
"I fancy he will spend to-morrow in bed instead of lounging about.
Perhaps it will teach him to mind his own business in future and to
leave other people alone. I am very glad that he did follow you;
for I felt that I owed him one, and was sorry to leave Paris without
paying my debt. Now I think we are pretty well square."
The meeting between the sisters was indeed a happy one. They fell
on each other's necks, and for some time scarce a word was spoken;
then they stood a little apart and had a long look at each other.
"You are changed, Marie dear," Jeanne said; "you look pale, but
you look, too, softer and prettier than you used to."
"All my airs and graces have been rubbed off," Marie said with a
slight smile. "I have learned so much, Jeanne, and have been where
noble blood has been the reverse of a recommendation. You are changed
too--the six months have altered you. Your gouvernante would not
call you a wild girl now. You are quite a woman.
"We have suffered too, Marie," Jeanne said as tears came to her eyes
at the thought of the changes and losses of the last few months.
"We have thought of you night and day; but Louise has been very good
to us, and as for Harry, we owe everything to him. He has always
been so hopeful and strong, and has cheered us up with promises
that he would bring you to us some day."
Marie smiled.
"You are right, Jeanne. I used to laugh a little, you know, at your
belief in your hero, and little thought that the time would come
when I should trust him as implicitly as you do. You have a right
to be proud of him, Jeanne. What thought and devotion and courage
he has shown for us! And do you know, he saved Victor too. Jacques
has told me all about it--how Victor saw his father brought out
to be murdered; and how, half-mad, he was springing out to stand
beside him, when Harry as quick as thought knocked him down before
he could betray himself; and then Jacques, who was standing by saw
it, helped him carry him here. Oh, my dear, how much we owe him!
"And now, Virginie," she said, turning to the youngest, "I must
have a good look at you, little one--but no, I mustn't call you
little one any longer, for you are already almost as tall as I am.
My child, how you have been growing, and you look so well! Louise
must have been feeding you up. Ah, Louise, how much we all owe to
you too! And I hear you are going to leave your comfortable home
and take care of the girls on their journey. It was such a comfort
to me when Harry told me!"
"I could not let them go alone, mademoiselle," the old woman said
simply; "it was only my duty. Besides, what should I do in Paris
with all my children in England?"
"Now, my dears, take your things off," Marie said. "I will just
run in and see how Victor is getting on. Harry went straight in to
him, and I want to know whether Victor recognized him."