Nantes
Harry was very pleased to see a look of recognition on Victor's
face as he came up to the side of his couch.
"Well, Victor," he said cheerfully, "I am glad to see you looking
more yourself again."
Victor nodded assent, and his hand feebly returned the pressure of
Harry's.
"I can't understand it," he said after a pause. "I seem to be in
a dream; but it is true Marie is here, isn't it?"
"Oh yes! She is chatting now with her sisters, Jeanne and Virginie,
you know."
"And why am I here?" Victor asked, looking round the room. "Marie
tells me not to ask questions."
"No. There will be plenty of time for that afterwards, Victor. It
is all simple enough. You were out with me, and there was an accident,
and you got hurt. So I and a workman who was passing carried you
into his house, and he and his wife have been taking care of you.
You have been very ill, but you are getting on better now. Marie
has come to nurse you, and she won't leave you until you are quite
well. Now, I think that's enough for you, and the doctor would be
very angry if he knew I had told you so much; because he said you
were not to bother yourself about things at all, but just to sleep
as much as you can, and eat as much as you can, and listen to Marie
talking and reading to you, and not trouble your brain in any way,
because it's your brain that has gone wrong, and any thinking will
be very bad for it."
This explanation seemed satisfactory to Victor, who soon after
dozed off to sleep, and Harry joined the party in Marie's sitting-room.
"Oh, if I could but keep them here with me, Harry, what a comfort
it would be!"
"I know that it would, Marie; but it is too dangerous. You know they
were denounced at Louise Moulin's. Already there is risk enough in
you and Victor being here. The search for Royalists does not relax,
indeed it seems to become more and more keen every day. Victor's
extreme illness is your best safeguard. The neighbours have heard
that Jacques has had a fellow-workman dangerously ill for some long
time, and Victor can no longer be looked upon as a stranger to be
suspected, while your coming here to help nurse him will seem so
natural a step that it will excite no comment. But any fresh addition
of numbers would be sure to give rise to talk, and you would have
a commissary of the Commune here in no time to make inquiries, and
to ask for your papers of domicile."
"Yes, I know that it would be too dangerous to risk," Marie agreed;
"but I tremble at the thought of their journey."
"I have every hope that we shall get through safely," Harry said.
"I have some good news I have not yet told you. I have received a
paper from Robespierre stating that I have been his secretary, and
recommending us all to the authorities, so that we can dispense
with the ordinary papers which they would otherwise ask for."
"That is good news, indeed, Harry," Marie said. "That relieves me
of half my anxiety. Once on the sea-coast it will be comparatively
easy to get a passage to England. My dear Harry, you surprise me
more every day, and I am ashamed to think that when our dear father
and mother first told me that they had accepted your noble offer
to look after us, I was inclined in my heart to think that such
protection would be of little use. You see I confess, Harry; and
you know that is half-way to forgiveness."
"There is nothing either to confess or forgive," Harry said with
a smile. "It was perfectly natural for you to think that a lad
of eighteen was a slender reed to lean on in the time of trouble
and danger, and that it was only by a lucky accident--for saving
Robespierre's life was but an accident--that I have been enabled
to be of use to you; and that I have now a pass which will enable
me to take your sisters with comparative safety as far as Nantes.
Had it not been for that I could have done little indeed to aid
you."
"You must not say so, Harry. You are too modest. Besides, was it
not your quickness that saved Victor? No, we owe you everything, and
disclaimers are only thrown away. As for me, I feel quite jealous
of Jeanne's superior perspicacity, for she trusted you absolutely
from the first."
"It has nothing to do with perspicacity," Jeanne said. "Harry saved
my life from that dreadful dog, and after that I knew if there was
danger he would be able to get us out of it. That is, if it were
possible for anyone to do so."
"I hope I shall be able to justify your trust, Jeanne, and arrive
safely with you at my father's house. I can promise you the warmest
of welcomes from my mother and sisters. I fear they must long since
have given me up for dead. I shall be like a shipwrecked mariner
who has been cast upon an island and given up as lost. But my father
always used to say, that if I was a first-rate hand at getting
into scrapes, I was equally good at getting out of them again; and
I don't think they will have quite despaired of seeing me again,
especially as they know, by the last letters I sent them, that
you all said I could speak French well enough to pass anywhere as
a native."
"How surprised they will be at your arriving with two girls and
Louise!" Virginie said.
"They will be pleased more than surprised," Harry replied. "I have
written so much about you in my letters that the girls and my mother
will be delighted to see you."
"Besides," Jeanne added, "the boys will have told them you are
waiting behind with us, so they will not be so surprised as they
would otherwise have been. But it will be funny, arriving among
people who don't speak a word of our language."
"You will soon be at home with them," said Harry reassuringly.
"Jenny and Kate are just about your ages, and I expect they will
have grown so I shall hardly know them. It is nearly three years
now since I left them, and I have to look at you to assure myself
that Jenny will have grown almost into a young woman. Now I shall
go out for a bit, and leave you to chat together.
"You need not fidget about Victor, Marie. Elise is with him, and
will come and let you know if he wakes; but I hope that he has gone
off fairly to sleep for the night. He knew me, and I think I have
put his mind at rest a little as to how he came here. I have told
him it was an accident in the street, and that we brought him in
here, and he has been too ill since to be moved. I don't think he
will ask any more questions. If I were you I would, while nursing,
resume the dress you came here in. It will be less puzzling to him
than the one you are wearing now."
The little party started the next morning at day-light, and at the
very first village they came to, found how strict was the watch upon
persons leaving Paris, and had reason to congratulate themselves
upon the possession of Robespierre's safe-conduct. No sooner had
they sat down in the village cabaret to breakfast than an official
with a red scarf presented himself, and asked them who they were
and where they were going. The production of the document at once
satisfied him; and, indeed, he immediately addressed the young man
in somewhat shabby garments, who had the honour of being secretary
to the great man, in tones of the greatest respect.
Virginie at present was shy and awkward in her attire as a boy, and
indeed had there been time the night before to procure a disguise
for her as a girl it would have been done, although Harry's opinion
that it would attract less attention for her to travel as a boy
was unchanged; but he would have given way had it been possible to
make the change. As any delay, however, would certainly be dangerous,
the original plan was adhered to.
Marie had cut her sister's hair short, and no one would have
suspected from her appearance that Virginie was not what she seemed,
a good-looking boy of some thirteen years old. With their bundles
in their hands they trudged along the road, and stopped for the
night at a village about twelve miles out of Paris. After having
again satisfied the authorities by the production of the pass,
Harry made inquiries, and the next morning went two miles away to
a farm-house, where there was, he heard, a cart and horse to be
disposed of.
After much haggling over terms--since to give the sum that was
first asked would have excited surprise, and perhaps suspicion--Harry
became the possessor of the horse and cart, drove triumphantly
back to the village, and having stowed Louise and the two girls on
some straw in the bottom of the cart, proceeded on the journey.
They met with no adventure whatever on the journey to Nantes, which
was performed in ten days. The weather was bitterly cold. Although
it was now well on in March the snow lay deep on the ground; but
the girls were well wrapped up, and the cart was filled with straw,
which helped to keep them warm. Harry walked for the most part by
the side of the horse's head, for they could only proceed at foot-pace;
but he sometimes climbed up and took the reins, the better to chat
with the girls and keep up their spirits. There was no occasion for
this in the case of Jeanne, but Virginie often gave way and cried
bitterly, and the old nurse suffered greatly from the cold in spite
of her warm wraps.
On arriving at Nantes Harry proceeded first to the Maine, and on
producing Robespierre's document received a permit to lodge in the
town. He then looked for apartments in the neighbourhood of the
river, and when he had obtained them disposed of the horse and cart.
The statement that he was Robespierre's secretary at once secured
for him much attention from the authorities, and he was invited to
become a member of the Revolutionary Committee during his stay in
the town, in order that he might see for himself with what zeal
the instructions received from Paris for the extermination of the
Royalists were being carried out.
This offer he accepted, as it would enable him to obtain information
of all that was going on. Had it not been for this he would gladly
have declined the honour, for his feelings were daily harrowed by
arrests and massacres which he was powerless to prevent, for he
did not venture to raise his voice on the side of mercy, for had he
done so, it would have been certain to excite suspicion. He found
that, horrible as were the atrocities committed in Paris, they
were even surpassed by those which were enacted in the provinces,
and that in Nantes in particular a terrible persecution was raging
under the direction of Carrier, who had been sent down from Paris
as commissioner from the Commune there.
Harry's next object was to make the acquaintance of some of the
fishermen, and to find out what vessels were engaged in smuggling
goods across to England; for it was in one of these alone that he
could hope to cross the Channel. This, however, he found much more
difficult than he had expected.
The terror was universal. The news of the execution of the king
had heightened the dismay. Massacres were going on all over France.
The lowest ruffians in all the great towns were now their masters,
and under pretended accusations were wreaking their hate upon the
respectable inhabitants. Private enmities were wiped out in blood.
None were too high or too low to be denounced as Royalists, and
denunciation was followed as a matter of course by a mock trial
and execution. Every man distrusted his neighbour, and fear caused
those who most loathed and hated the existing regime to be loudest
in their advocacy of it. There were spies everywhere--men who
received blood-money for every victim they denounced.
Thus, then, Harry's efforts to make acquaintances among the
sailors met with very slight success. He was a stranger, and that
was sufficient to cause distrust, and ere long it became whispered
that he had come from Paris with special authority to hasten on the
work of extirpation of the enemies of the state. Soon, therefore,
Harry perceived that as he moved along the quay little groups of
sailors and fishermen talking together broke up at his approach, the
men sauntering off to the wine-shops, and any he accosted replied
civilly indeed, but with embarrassment and restraint; and although
any questions of a general character were answered, a profound
ignorance was manifested upon the subject upon which he wished to
gain information. The sailors all seemed to know that occasionally
cargoes of spirits were run from the river to England, but none
could name any vessel engaged in the trade. Harry soon perceived
that he was regarded with absolute hostility, and one day one of
the sailors said to him quietly:
"Citizen, I am a good sans-culotte, and I warn you, you had best
not come down the river after dark, for there is a strong feeling
against you; and unless you would like your body to be fished out
of the river with half a dozen knife-holes in it, you will take my
advice."
Harry began to feel almost crushed under his responsibilities. His
attendance at the Revolutionary Committee tried him greatly. He
made no progress whatever in his efforts to obtain a passage; and
to add to his trouble the old nurse, who had been much exhausted
by the change from her usual habits, and the inclemency of the
weather on her journey, instead of gaining strength appeared to be
rapidly losing it, and was forced to take to her bed. The terrible
events in Paris, and the long strain of anxiety as to the safety
of the girls and the fate of Marie, had completely exhausted her
strength, and the last six months had aged her as many years. Harry
tried hard to keep up his appearance of hopefulness, and to cheer
the girls; but Jeanne's quick eye speedily perceived the change in
him.
"You are wearing yourself out, Harry," she said one evening as they
were sitting by the fire, while Virginie was tending Louise in the
next room. "I can see it in your face. It is of no use your trying
to deceive me. You tell us every day that you hope soon to get
hold of the captain of a boat sailing for England; but I know that
in reality you are making no progress. All those months when we
were hoping to get Marie out of prison--though it seemed next to
impossible--you told us not to despair, and I knew you did not
despair yourself; but now it is different. I am sure that you do
in your heart almost give up hope. Why don't you trust me, Harry?
I may not be able to do much, but I might try to cheer you. You
have been comforting us all this time. Surely it is time I took my
turn. I am not a child now."
"I feel like one just at present," Harry said unsteadily with
quivering lips. "I feel sometimes as if--as we used to say at
school--I could cry for twopence. I know, Jeanne, I can trust you, and
it isn't because I doubted your courage that I have not told you
exactly how things are going on, but because it is entirely upon
you now that Louise and Virginie have to depend, and I do not wish
to put any more weight on your shoulders; but it will be a relief
to me to tell you exactly how we stand."
Harry then told her how completely he had failed with the sailors,
and how an actual feeling of hostility against him had arisen.
"I think I could have stood that, Jeanne; but it is that terrible
committee that tries me. It is so awful hearing these fiends marking
out their victims and exulting over their murder, that at times I
feel tempted to throw myself upon some of them and strangle them."
"It must be dreadful, Harry," Jeanne said soothingly. "Will it not
be possible for you to give out that you are ill, and so absent
yourself for a time from their meetings? I am sure you look ill--ill
enough for anything. As to the sailors, do not let that worry
you. Even if you could hear of a ship at present it would be of no
use. I couldn't leave Louise; she seems to me to be getting worse
and worse, and the doctor you called in three days ago thinks
so too. I can see it by his face. I think he is a good man. The
woman whose sick child I sat up with last night tells me the poor
all love him. I am sure he guesses that we are not what we seem.
He said this morning to me:
"' I cannot do much for your grandmother. It is a general break-up.
I have many cases like it of old people and women upon whom the
anxiety of the times has told. Do not worry yourself with watching,
child. She will sleep quietly, and will not need attendance. If
you don't mind I shall have you on my hands. Anxiety affects the
young as well as the old.'
"At anyrate, you see, we cannot think of leaving here at present.
Louise has risked everything for us. It is quite impossible for
us to leave her now, so do not let that worry you. We are all in
God's hands, Harry, and we must wait patiently what He may send
us."
"We will wait patiently," Harry said. "I feel better now, Jeanne,
and you shall not see me give way again. What has been worrying me
most is the thought that it would have been wiser to have carried
out some other plan--to have put you and Virginie, for instance,
in some farmhouse not far from Paris, and for you to have waited
there till the storm blew over."
"You must never think that, Harry," Jeanne said earnestly. "You
know we all talked it over dozens of times, Louise and all of us,
and we agreed that this was our best chance, and Marie when she
came out quite thought so too. So, whatever comes, you must not
blame yourself in the slightest. Wherever we were we were in danger,
and might have been denounced."
"I arranged it all, Jeanne. I have the responsibility of your being
here."
"And to an equal extent you would have had the responsibility of
our being anywhere else. So it is of no use letting that trouble
you. Now, as to the sailors, you know I have made the acquaintance
of some of the women in our street. Some of them are sailors' wives,
and possibly through them I may be able to hear about ships. At
anyrate I could try."
"Perhaps you could, Jeanne; but be very, very careful what questions
you put, or you might be betrayed."
"I don't think there is much fear of that, Harry. The women are
more outspoken than the men. Some of them are with what they call
the people; but it is clear that others are quite the other way.
You see trade has been almost stopped, and there is great suffering
among the sailors and their families. Of course I have been very
careful not to seem to have more money than other people; but
I have been able to make soups and things--I have learned to be
quite a cook from seeing Louise at work--and I take them to those
that are very poor, especially if they have children ill, and I
think I have won some of their hearts."
"You win everyone's heart who comes near you, Jeanne, I think,"
Harry said earnestly.
Jeanne flushed a rosy red, but said with a laugh:
"Now, Harry, you are turning flatterer. We are not at the chateau
now, sir, so your pretty speeches are quite thrown away; and now
I shall go and take Virginie's place and send her in to you."
And so another month went by, and then the old nurse quietly
passed away. She was buried, to the girls' great grief, without
any religious ceremony, for the priests were all in hiding or had
been murdered, and France had solemnly renounced God and placed
Reason on His throne.
In the meantime Jeanne had been steadily carrying on her work among
her poorer neighbours, sitting up at night with sick children, and
supplying food to starving little ones, saying quietly in reply to
the words of gratitude of the women:
"My grandmother has laid by savings during her long years of
service. She will not want it long, and we are old enough to work
for ourselves; besides, our brother Henri will take care of us. So
we are glad to be able to help those who need it."
While she worked she kept her ears open, and from the talk of the
women learned that the husbands of one or two of them were employed in
vessels engaged in carrying on smuggling operations with England.
A few days after the death of Louise one of these women, whose
child Jeanne had helped to nurse through a fever and had brought
round by keeping it well supplied with good food, exclaimed:
"Oh, how much we owe you, mademoiselle, for your goodness!"
"You must not call me mademoiselle," Jeanne said, shaking her head.
"It would do you harm and me too if it were heard."
"It comes so natural," the woman said with a sigh. "I was in service
once in a good family before I married Adolphe. But I know that
you are not one of those people who say there is no God, because I
saw you kneel down and pray by Julie's bed when you thought I was
asleep. I expect Adolphe home in a day or two. The poor fellow
will be wild with delight when he sees the little one on its feet
again. When he went away a fortnight ago he did not expect ever
to see her alive again, and it almost broke his heart. But what
was he to do? There are so many men out of work that if he had
not sailed in the lugger there would have been scores to take his
place, and he might not perhaps have been taken on again."
"He has been to England, has he not?" Jeanne asked.
"Yes; the lugger carries silks and brandy. It is a dangerous trade,
for the Channel is swarming with English cruisers. But what is he
to do? One must live."
"Is your husband in favour of the new state of things?" Jeanne
asked.
"Not in his heart, mademoiselle, any more than I am, but he holds
his tongue. Most of the sailors in the port hate these murdering
tyrants of ours; but what can we do?"
"Well, Marthe, I am sure I can trust you, and your husband can help
me if he will."
"Surely you can trust me," the woman said. "I would lay down my
life for you, and I know Adolphe would do so too when he knows what
you have done for us."
"Well, then, Marthe, I and my sister and my brother Henri are anxious
to be taken to England. We are ready to pay well for a passage,
but we have not known how to set about it."
"I thought it might be that," Marthe said quietly; "for anyone who
knows the ways of gentlefolk, as I do, could see with half an eye
that you are not one of us. But they say, mademoiselle, that your
brother is a friend of Robespierre, and that he is one of the
committee here."
"He is only pretending, Marthe, in order that no suspicion should
fall upon us. But he finds that the sailors distrust him, and he
cannot get to speak to them about taking a passage, so I thought
I would speak to you, and you can tell me when a boat is sailing
and who is her captain."
"Adolphe will manage all that for you, never fear," the woman
said. "I know that many a poor soul has been hidden away on board
the smuggler's craft and got safely out of the country; but of
course it's a risk, for it is death to assist any of the suspects.
Still the sailors are ready to run the risk, and indeed they haven't
much fear of the consequences if they are caught, for the sailor
population here are very strong, and they would not stand quietly
by and see some of their own class treated as if they had done
some great crime merely because they were earning a few pounds by
running passengers across to England. Why they have done it from
father to son as far as they can recollect, for there has never
been a time yet when there were not people who wanted to pass from
France to England and from England to France without asking the
leave of the authorities. I think it can be managed, mademoiselle,
especially, as you say, you can afford to pay, for if one won't take
you, another will. Trade is so bad that there are scores of men
would start in their fishing-boats for a voyage across the Channel
in the hope of getting food for their wives and families."
"I was sure it was so, Marthe, but it was so difficult to set about
it. Everyone is afraid of spies, and it needs some one to warrant
that we are not trying to draw them into a snare, before anyone
will listen. If your husband will but take the matter up, I have
no doubt it can be managed."
"Set your mind at ease; the thing is as good as done. I tell you
there are scores of men ready to undertake the job when they know
it is a straightforward one."
"That is good news indeed, Jeanne," Harry said, when the girl
told him of the conversation. "That does seem a way out of our
difficulties. I felt sure you would be able to manage it, sooner
or later, among the poor people you have been so good to. Hurry it
on as much as you can, Jeanne. I feel that our position is getting
more and more dangerous. I am afraid I do not play my part sufficiently
well. I am not forward enough in their violent councils. I cannot
bring myself to vote for proposals for massacre when there is any
division among them. I fear that some have suspicions. I have been
asked questions lately as to why I am staying here, and why I have
come. I have been thinking for the last few days whether it would
not be better for us to make our way down to the mouth of the river
and try and bribe some fishermen in the villages there who would
not have that feeling against me that the men here have, to take
us to sea, or if that could not be managed, to get on board some
little fishing-boat at night and sail off by ourselves in the hopes
of being picked up by an English cruiser."
Harry indeed had for some days been feeling that danger was
thickening round him. He had noticed angry glances cast at him by
the more violent of the committee, and had caught sentences expressing
doubt whether he had really been Robespierre's secretary. That
evening as he came out from the meeting he heard one man say to
another:
"I tell you he may have stolen it, and perhaps killed the citizen
who bore it. I believe he is a cursed aristocrat. I tell you I shall
watch him. He has got some women with him; the maire, who saw the
paper, told me so. I shall make it my business to get to the bottom
of the affair, and we will make short work with him if we find
things are as I believe."
Harry felt, therefore, that the danger was even more urgent than
he had expressed it to Jeanne, and he had returned intending to
propose immediate flight had not Jeanne been beforehand with her
news. Even now he hesitated whether even a day's delay might not
ruin them.
"Have you told me all, Harry?" Jeanne asked.
"Not quite all, Jeanne. I was just thinking it over. I fear the
danger is even more pressing than I have said;" and he repeated
the sentence he had overheard. "Even now," he said, "that fellow
may be watching outside or making inquiries about you. He will hear
nothing but praise; but that very praise may cause him to doubt
still more that you are not what you seem."
"But why can we not run away at once?" Virginie said. "Why should
we wait here till they come and take us and carry us away and kill
us?"
"That is what I was thinking when I came home, Virginie; but the
risk of trying to escape in a fishing-boat by ourselves would be
tremendous. You see, although I have gone out sailing sometimes on
the river in England, I know very little about it, and although we
might be picked up by an English ship, it would be much more likely
that we should fall into the hands of one of the French gunboats.
So I look upon that as a desperate step, to be taken only at the
last moment. And now that Jeanne seems to have arranged a safe plan,
I do not like trying such a wild scheme. A week now, and perhaps
all might be arranged; but the question is--Have we a week? Have
we more than twenty-four hours? What do you think, Jeanne?"
"I do not see what is best to do yet," Jeanne said, looking steadily
in the fire. "It is a terrible thing to have to decide; but I see
we must decide." She sat for five minutes without speaking, and
then taking down her cloak from the peg on which it hung she said;
"I will go round to Marthe Pichon again and tell her we are all
so anxious for each other, that I don't think we can judge what is
really the best. Marthe will see things more clearly and will be
able to advise us."
"Yes, that will be the best plan."
It was three-quarters of an hour before she returned.
"I can see you have a plan," Harry said as he saw that there was
a look of brightness and hope on Jeanne's face.
"Yes, I have a plan, and a good one; that is to say, Marthe has. I
told her all about it, and she said directly that we must be hidden
somewhere till her husband can arrange for us to sail. I said, of
course, that was what was wanted, but how could it be managed? So
she thought it over, and we have quite arranged it. She has a sister
who lives in a fishing-village four miles down the river. She will
go over there to-morrow and arrange with them to take us, and will
get some fisher-girls' dresses for us. She says she is sure her
sister will take us, for she was over here yesterday and heard
about the child getting better, and Marthe told her all sorts of
nonsense about what I had done for it. She thinks we shall be quite
safe there, for there are only six or seven houses, and no one but
fishermen live there. She proposes that you shall be dressed up in
some of her husband's clothes, and shall go out fishing with her
sister's husband. What do you think of that, Harry?"
"Splendid, Jeanne! Can the husband be trusted too?"
"Oh, yes, she says so. He is an honest man, she says; and besides,
they are very poor, and a little money will be a great help to them.
She says she would not propose it unless she was quite, quite sure
of them, for if anything happened to us she would be a wretched
woman all her life."
"Thank God," Harry said fervently, "that one sees daylight at last!
I have felt so helpless lately! Dangers seemed to be thickening
round you, and I could do nothing; and now, Jeanne, you have found
a way out for us where I never should have found one for myself."
"It is God who has done it, not me," Jeanne said reverently. "I did
not begin to go about among the poor people here with any thought
of making friends, but because they were so poor and miserable; but
He must have put it into my heart to do it, in order that a way of
escape might be made for us."