Leigh returned into the house with his sister.
"Cheer up, Patsey," he said; "it is very hard parting, but I have
every hope that they will succeed in getting safely home. Francois
is a sharp fellow. They have a good stock of food, and they won't
have to go into any village and, being only two, they will have a
far better chance of crossing the river than if they kept with the
others."
"How they are fighting!" Patsey said, a few minutes later.
Indeed the roar of musketry was unceasing, and was mingled with the
louder cracks of the field guns.
"Our men are holding their own," Leigh replied. "The firing is no
nearer than it was half an hour ago.
"Now, you had better lie down, Patsey. I will keep a sharp lookout
and, the moment I see any signs of our men retiring, we will mount.
I know there is no chance of your sleeping, but it will rest you to
lie down, and we shall have a long ride before us, tomorrow."
Patsey nodded, but after he had gone out she did not lie down, but
threw herself on her knees by the couch, and prayed for the safety
of her husband. Hour after hour passed. From time to time Leigh
returned and, towards morning, told Patsey that it was time that
they should mount.
"Our men have not begun to give way yet," he said, "but they say
that Kleber's division has just arrived. There is a lull in the
fighting at present, but no doubt they will relieve the division
that has been fighting all night, and our men cannot hope to hold
out for long. I have just brought the horses round to the door.
Now, I will strap the valises on while you wrap Louis up warmly."
In five minutes they started for the point agreed on. Before they
reached it, the firing broke out again with increased violence. In
an hour numbers of men began to make their way past them. One of
them halted. He was one of Jean's tenants.
"Ah! madame," he said, as he recognized her--for it was now broad
daylight--"I fear that all is lost. You had best ride at once. The
Blues will not come just yet, for la Rochejaquelein, with four or
five hundred of his best followers, will hold the place till the
last, so as to give us time to get away."
"Did you see my husband, Leroux?"
"He was with the general, madame. They and the horsemen charged
again and again, whenever the Blues pushed forward."
"Thank God he is safe so far!" Patsey said. "Goodbye, Leroux; we
may not meet again."
"We shall meet in heaven, madame," the man said reverently. "They
may take away our country, they may kill our cures, they may
destroy our churches, but they cannot take away our God. May He
protect you, madame!" and, pressing the hand she held out to him,
he hurried on.
Faster and faster the fugitives passed them, but for an hour the
combat continued unabated; then the exulting shouts of the Blues
showed that they were making way. The gallant band of Vendeans were
not, indeed, retiring; but they were being annihilated. Patsey had
said but little during the anxious time of waiting. From time to
time she murmured:
"Will he never come? Oh, God, send him to us!"
Presently a mounted officer rode past.
"Ride on! ride on!" he shouted. "The Blues will be here in a
minute!"
"We must go, Patsey," Leigh said as, without drawing rein, the
officer rode on.
"No, no; wait a few minutes, Leigh. He will surely come soon."
Presently, however, a number of peasants, their faces blackened
with powder, ran past.
"The Blues are on our heels!" they shouted. "They will be here in a
minute; they are but a hundred yards away."
"Come, Patsey," Leigh said. "Remember your promise. We must go; it
is madness waiting any longer."
And as he spoke one of the peasants, running past, fell dead, shot
by a musket ball from the rear. Leigh seized Patsey's bridle and,
setting his own horse in motion, they rode on. They were but just
in time for, before they had ridden two hundred yards Leigh,
looking round, saw the Republicans issuing from the town.
"Pull yourself together, Patsey!" Leigh exclaimed. "We may have
their cavalry after us, in a minute or two. Remember, Jean trusts
you to carry out his instructions."
Patsey drew herself up, struck the horse with her whip, and
galloped on at full speed. They soon left the road followed by the
rest of the fugitives, and turned down one leading east. The din of
battle had ceased now, but a scattered fire of musketry showed that
the enemy were engaged in their usual work of shooting all who fell
into their hands.
After riding for an hour at full speed they drew rein at a wood
and, entering it, dismounted and put on their disguises. They had
no fear now of pursuit. The enemy's cavalry must have made a very
long march to reach the town, and their horses must be worn out by
their previous exertions; while their own had had forty-eight
hours' rest, during which time they had been well fed and cared
for. Moreover, any pursuit that was made would be in the direction
taken by the bulk of the fugitives.
Mounting again, they rode on. It was but a narrow country road that
they were traversing and, during the day, they only passed through
two or three small hamlets.
"Are the brigands coming this way?" they were asked.
"No," Leigh replied. "They are fighting at Le Mans. If they are
beaten they won't come this way, but will make south. We thought it
best to leave the town. When fighting is going on in the streets it
is time for quiet people to be off."
They rode forty miles before night, and then entered a wood; having
agreed that, until they got farther away from the scene of action,
and struck the road running south, it would be better not to enter
any place where they would be questioned. Choosing an open space
among the trees, Leigh took off the bridles to let the horses pluck
what grass they could, after giving to each a hunch of bread from
their store. Then he returned, with the blankets that had been
rolled up and fastened behind the saddles.
"Now, Patsey, you must eat something and drink some wine. You must
keep up your strength, for the sake of Louis and Jean."
Patsey had spoken very few words during the day. She shook her
head.
"I will try for Louis's sake," she said; "as to Jean--" and she
stopped.
"As to Jean," he said, "we have every reason to hope for the best.
Many things may have happened to prevent his joining us. The Blues
may have pushed in between his party and us, and he may have found
that he could not rejoin us. His horse may have been shot and he
obliged to fly on foot. He has gone through all these battles from
the first, and has never been wounded. Why should we suppose that
he has not done the same now? I feel sure that if he had lost his
horse he would not have tried to join us, for he would have thought
that he would have hampered our escape.
"Jean is full of resources, and has everything in his favour. He is
not like the others, who have but one aim, to get back to La Vendee
and die there, and whose way is barred by the Loire. He has all
France open to him and, if he gains a port, has but to get some
sailor clothes to pass unnoticed. He is well provided with money,
and has everything in his favour. When he once gets away from Le
Mans, the road would be open, for we may be sure that the enemy
will all gather in the rear of the remains of our army."
"I see all that," Patsey said; "and if I were but sure that he got
safely away, I should feel comparatively easy. However, Leigh, I
will try and look at the best side of things. If Jean is killed he
has died gloriously, doing his duty till the last. If he is not, he
will some day be restored to me."
"That is right, dear," he said. "You have always been so hopeful
and cheery, through all this business, that I am sure you will keep
up your courage now. We have every reason to hope and, for my part,
I confidently expect to see Jean, safe and sound, when we arrive
home. Now let us set to; we both want something badly."
Patsey did her best and, being indeed faint from hunger, having
eaten nothing since the evening before, she felt all the better and
stronger when she had finished her meal; and was able to chatter
cheerfully to little Louis, who had ridden before Leigh all day,
and who was now just beginning to talk. Then they spread a blanket
on the ground and, lying down together for warmth, covered
themselves with the rest of their wraps; and Leigh was glad to
find, by her steady breathing, that the fatigue of the last
twenty-four hours had sufficed to send his sister to sleep, in
spite of her grief at her separation from her husband.
The next day they crossed the road leading to Tours, between
Chateaudun and Chartres. Once over this there was no longer any
occasion for haste. There was no fear of their connection with the
struggle in the west being suspected, and they had now only to face
the troubles consequent on travelling unprovided with proper
papers.
Late that evening they entered the town of Artenay, on the main
road from Paris to Orleans, coming down upon it from the north
side. Here they entered a quiet inn. The landlord was a jovial,
pleasant-faced man of some sixty years of age; and his wife a kind,
motherly-looking woman. As usual, the travellers signed the names
they had agreed upon in the book kept for the purpose, Patsey
retaining her own name, and he signing as Lucien Porson.
The landlady, seeing that Patsey was completely worn out, at once
took her off to her room.
"Ah! I thought that monsieur was too young to be madame's husband,"
the landlord said.
Leigh laughed.
"I am her brother," he said. "Her husband is a sailor, and she is
to join him at Toulon."
"I see the resemblance," the landlord said. "It is a long journey
indeed for her, and with a child under two years old, and in such
weather.
"But you forget that such a place as Toulon no longer exists. It
has been decreed that the town that received the English and
resisted the Republic is to be altogether destroyed, except of
course the arsenal, and is henceforth to be known as 'the town
without a name.'"
The tone, rather than the words, convinced Leigh that his host was
not an admirer of the present state of things. Leigh shrugged his
shoulders slightly, and said, with a smile:
"Perhaps France will change her own name. Surely a Republic cannot
put up with the name that has been associated, for centuries, with
kings."
The landlord brought his hand down, with a heavy smack, on Leigh's
shoulder.
"Ah," he said, "I see that you are too young, as I am too old, to
care for the present changes. With anyone in the town I should not
venture to say anything; but I am sure, by your face, that you can
be trusted."
"And I can say the same to you, landlord."
"Are your papers, by the by, in good order?"
"Frankly, we have no papers."
The landlord gave a low whistle, expressive of surprise and
consternation.
"And how do you expect to travel, monsieur? How you have got so far
as this, I cannot make out; for at any tavern where you put up you
might, of course, have been asked for them."
"We have not put up at any towns, as yet; but have slept at little
places, where no questions were asked."
"But you can't get on like that, monsieur. Even in the small
villages, they are on the watch for suspected persons. You must
have papers of some sort."
"That is all very well," Leigh said; "the question is, where to get
them?"
"What story do you mean to tell?"
"If we had been stopped anywhere on our way here, we should have
said that we belonged to Le Mans; that, like most of the other
inhabitants, we fled before the Vendeans entered, and in such haste
that I forgot all about papers; and indeed could not have got them,
had I thought of it, as all the authorities had fled before we
did."
"That story, added to your appearance and that of madame as
respectable citizens, might succeed sometimes, with those who are
not anxious to show their zeal; but as most of these functionaries
are so, you would probably, if it was a village, be sent on under a
guard to the next town, and if it were a town would be thrown into
prison. And you know, to get in a prison in our days is--"
"Equivalent to a sentence of death," Leigh put in as he hesitated.
"You must get papers somehow--something that would pass at any rate
in the villages, where as often as not there is not a man who can
read. I will see what I can do. A cousin of mine is clerk to the
mayor. He is a good fellow, though he has to pretend to be a
violent supporter of the Convention.
"I don't know how you are situated, monsieur, but times are hard,
and all salaries terribly in arrears; and when they are paid it is
in assignats, and I need hardly say that when you pay in assignats
you don't buy cheap."
"We have money," Leigh said, "and I would pay any reasonable sum,
in gold, for proper papers."
"Sapristi! You might almost tempt the maire himself, by offering
him gold. Only he would suspect that you must have more hidden
away, and that by arresting you, he could make himself master of
the whole, instead of only a part; but since you offer gold, I have
no doubt that my cousin would not mind running some little risk.
How much shall I say, monsieur?"
"I would, if necessary, give forty louis."
"That is more than his yearly salary," the innkeeper said; "half of
that would be ample. I will go to him at once. It is important that
you should get papers of some kind, for at any moment anyone might
come in and demand to see them."
"Here are ten louis. I have more sewn up in my saddle, and can give
him the other ten later on, when I get an opportunity to go to the
stable unnoticed."
"That will do very well, monsieur. I will be off at once."
It was an hour before he returned, and Leigh and Patsey had just
finished supper. As there were two or three other persons in the
room he said nothing, but signified by a little nod that he had
succeeded. A quarter of an hour later the other customers, having
finished their meal, went out.
"Here are your papers," he said, as he handed a document to Leigh.
It was a printed form, blanks being left for the names,
description, and the object of journey.
"Arthenay Mairie,
"To all concerned--
"It is hereby testified that citizen Lucien Porson, and his sister
citoyenne Martin, both of good repute and well disposed to the
Republic, natives of this town of Arthenay, are travelling,
accompanied by a child of the latter, to Marseilles, whither they
go on family affairs, and to join citoyenne Martin's husband, a
master mariner of that town."
The destination had been altered when they heard of the state of
things at Toulon. The document was purposed to be signed by the
maire, under his official seal.
"There is only one difficulty," the landlord said, as Leigh and
Patsey warmly thanked him; "and that is that, although it will pass
you when you have once left this town, it would be dangerous to use
it here; and you may at any moment be asked for it. But my cousin,
who is a charming fellow, pointed out the difficulty to me, and
said:
"'The best thing will be for me to take a couple of men, and pay
the official visit to him, myself.'
"I expect that he will be here in a few minutes."
"Then, as the stableman has gone out at last--at least I see no
lights there--I will go and get the rest of the money."
"Yes, I met him a hundred yards off, on my way back. There is no
one about. I will take a lantern and go out with you."
In ten minutes they returned, Leigh having the ten louis required
in his pocket. A quarter of an hour later the door opened, and a
man wearing the scarf which showed him to be an officer of the
municipality entered, followed by two men with the cockade of the
Republic in their hats.
"This is citizen Porson and citoyenne Martin, his sister," the
landlord, who accompanied the party, said.
The functionary walked up to the table and said gruffly, "Your
papers, citizen."
Leigh handed him the document. He glanced through it.
"That is right," he said. "Citizen Porson and citoyenne Martin, of
the arrondissement of Paris, travelling to Marseilles, duly signed
by the maire of the arrondissement and duly sealed. That is all in
order. We are obliged to be particular, citizen; there are many ill
disposed to the Republic travelling through the country."
"Will you sit down, citizen, and take a glass of wine with me?
Landlord, draw two stoups of wine for these two good citizens."
The two men followed the landlord out to the public room.
"I should think, Jeannette," Leigh said to his sister, "you had
better to retire to bed. You have had a long day's ride, and must,
I am sure, be tired out."
As soon as she had left the room, Leigh dropped the ten louis into
the adjoint's hand.
"I thank you with all my heart," he said. "You have done a good
action, and I can assure you that it can do no harm to the
Republic, against whom I have no intention of conspiring. There is
no fear, I suppose, that the maire's signature may be questioned?"
"There is no fear whatever of that, because the signature is
precisely similar to that which occurs on all official documents.
The maire is without doubt an excellent Republican, and a devoted
servant of the Convention, but he is altogether ignorant of
letters, and the consequence is that I sign all official documents
for him. So you see there was no trouble whatever in filling in,
signing, and sealing this letter. The only matter that concerned me
was that, if by any chance you should be arrested as a suspect,
possibly a demand might be made as to how you obtained this pass.
However, even that did not trouble me greatly; for as I myself open
and read the maire's letters, I should have no difficulty in
keeping him altogether in the dark as to the purport of any letter
that might come, and should myself pen an answer, with explanations
which would no doubt be found satisfactory."
"And now can you tell me, sir, which in your opinion would be the
best port for me to make to, to leave the country? It matters
little whether we go by land or sea."
"It would be more easy for you to make your way to a port than
across the frontier," the adjoint said, "but when you reach a port,
your difficulties would but begin. In the first place, our trade
with foreign countries is almost at a standstill, and every vessel
that goes out is rigidly searched for concealed emigres.
"On the other hand, once across the frontier your troubles would be
at an end; but every road is closely watched, every village is on
the lookout, for the orders are precise that all persons leaving
France shall be arrested and detained until in a position to prove
their identity, and to place the truth of the reason given for
journeying beyond all doubt. I do not say that it might not be
possible to bribe peasants to take you by unfrequented paths over
the Jura; but the journey would be arduous in the extreme, and
probably impossible to be performed on horseback.
"But for my part, if I were in your position and desired to leave
the country, I should go north instead of south. I should go in the
first place to Paris, stay there in quiet lodgings for a little
time until you became known, and you might then get your papers
visaed to enable you to continue your journey to Calais or Dunkirk.
Money will go just as far among the incorruptibles of Paris as it
will here. You might obtain a passage down the Seine, to Rouen or
Havre."
"That would certainly suit us best. I regret, now, that I had the
paper made out for Marseilles."
"That can easily be remedied, monsieur. If you will walk back with
me to the mairie, I will write a fresh paper out, and destroy the
one I have given you. But what shall I say is your object in
journeying to Paris? You are too young to be going to purchase
goods and, indeed, would hardly be taking a woman and child with
you for such a purpose.
"Now, monsieur, frankly tell me who you are. I have some relations
in Paris, quiet bourgeois, who keep a small shop near the markets.
If I were to give you a letter to them, saying that you have
business in Paris, and have asked me to recommend someone who would
provide you with quiet lodgings, no doubt they would willingly take
you in. But I would not involve them in danger. You might be
recognised as being members of some family who are proscribed, and
in that case not only would my friends get into trouble but, as
they would, of course, say that you were recommended to them by me,
I might find myself in a very unpleasant position."
"There is no fear of anything of that sort. I and my sister are
both English. She married the son of a merchant at Nantes, and I
came over with her to learn the business. There have, as you know,
been troubles in that part of France. We endeavoured to escape, but
she was separated from her husband--who has, I greatly fear, been
killed--and we, of course, are both anxious to rejoin our family in
England."
"How long have you been in France, monsieur? You speak the language
well."
"We have been over here nearly three years."
"Well, I do not think that there is any risk; unless, of course,
you are caught in the act of trying to make your escape. But I
think that it would be as well that my friends should be prepared
for your coming. I know a man who is leaving for Paris tomorrow. I
will give him my letter, and ask him to deliver it personally, as
soon as he gets there; then you can follow, twenty-four hours
later. Now that it is known that I have examined your papers, and
found them correct, there will be no further inquiry about you and,
at any rate, you could stay here for a day or two without any
questions being asked."
"That would be an admirable plan, monsieur; and I cannot tell you
how much I am obliged to you."
"Say no more about that, monsieur; you have paid me well for it
and, moreover, I am not a bad fellow, though at present I am
obliged to appear to be a strong supporter of the people in Paris.
Now, if you will put on your hat and come along with me, I will
leave you a short distance from the hotel de ville, to which I have
access at all hours. I shall of course simply put, in the passport,
that you are travelling to Paris on private matters, and that you
will stay with your friend, citizen Tourrier, in the rue des
Halles."
A quarter of an hour later Leigh returned to the auberge, furnished
with the required paper. The adjoint had said, on handing it to
him:
"I shall not come round tomorrow. We met as strangers yesterday,
and it is as well I should not appear to be intimate with you. But
should you find yourself in any difficulty, send for me at once,
and I will soon set matters right."
"Is it all satisfactorily arranged, monsieur?" the hotel keeper
asked, when Leigh returned.
"Perfectly. Your friend has done even more than he promised."
And he told him of the change that had been made in the plans.
"That is certainly better. I have been wondering, myself, how you
would ever be able to get away from Marseilles. Now it seems
comparatively easy. I have no doubt that my cousin's friends in
Paris will be able to get you another pass, or to put you in the
way of travelling to one of the ports; though no doubt it will be
almost as difficult to get away, from there, as from Marseilles."
"I think that could be managed, landlord. I am a pretty good
sailor, and there ought to be no great difficulty in getting hold
of a boat and making out to sea and, when once away, I could steer
for England, or get on board some vessel bound there."
He tapped at his sister's door. She was still up.
"You are very late, Leigh."
"Yes, but you will be able to sleep as long as you like tomorrow,
as we are not going to start till next day, and are then going
north instead of south. Our paper has been changed for Paris,
instead of Marseilles; and we are going to the house of a cousin of
the man who gave me the pass, so we shall be safe so far; and ought
to have no difficulty, whatever, in journeying from there either to
Havre or one of the northern ports. I will tell you all about it,
tomorrow."
They passed the next day quietly, and both felt better for the
short rest. In addition to the pass, the adjoint had given Leigh a
note to his cousin. It was unsealed, and read:
"My dear Cousin,
"The bearer of this is Monsieur Porson, and his sister, Madame
Martin, of whom I wrote to you. You will find them amiable people,
who will give you but little trouble. I have assured them that they
will find themselves very comfortable with you, and that you will
do all in your power for them, for the sake of your affectionate
cousin.
"Simon Valles,
"Adjoint to the maire of Arthenay."
They journeyed by easy stages, stopping at Etampes, Arpajon, and
Longjumeau, and rode on the fourth day into Paris. They had no
difficulty in finding the shop of Monsieur Tourrier. It was a
grocer's and, as soon as they alighted from their horses, its owner
came out and greeted them heartily.
"Madame and monsieur are both most welcome," he said. "I have
received a letter from my cousin Simon. I am glad, indeed, to
receive his friends. Fortunately our rooms upstairs are unlet.
Strangers are rare in Paris, at present."
He called a boy from the shop, and told him to show Leigh the way
to some stables near. He then entered the house, accompanied by
Patsey with her child. Here she was received by Madame Tourrier, a
plump-faced businesslike woman, and was not long in finding out
that she was the real head of the establishment.
"I have got the rooms ready for you," she said. "We were surprised,
indeed, to get a letter from Simon Valles; for he is a poor
correspondent, though he generally comes to stay with us for three
days, once a year. He is a good fellow, but it is a pity that he
did not go into trade. He would have done better for himself than
by becoming adjoint to the maire of Arthenay. It has a high sound,
but in these days, when men are paid their salaries in assignats,
it is but a poor living. However, I suppose that it is an easy
life, for I don't think hard work would suit Simon. The last time
he was up we tried to persuade him that he would do better here,
but he laughed and said that people's heads were safer in Arthenay
than they were in Paris. But that is folly; the Convention does not
trouble itself with small shopkeepers. It knows well enough that we
have work enough to do to earn our living, without troubling
ourselves about politics; yet if the truth were known, a good many
of us are better to do than some of those they call aristocrats.
This is a busy quarter, you see, and we are close to the markets,
and the country people who come in know that we sell good
groceries, and on cheaper terms than they can get them in their
villages. We should do better, still, if my husband would but
bestir himself; but men are poor creatures, and I don't know what
would become of them, if they had not us women to look after their
affairs."
They now reached the rooms, which were small but comfortable, and
the price which Madame Tourrier named seemed to Patsey to be very
moderate.
"You see, your room is furnished as a sitting room also, madame,
and you and your brother can talk over your affairs here. As to
your meals, I could provide your cafe au lait in the morning, but I
can't undertake to cook for you. But there are many good places,
where you can obtain your meals at a cheap rate, in the
neighbourhood. How long do you expect to remain in Paris?"
"That I cannot say, at present. My husband is a sailor, but I have
not heard from him for a long time. At Arthenay there is but small
opportunity of learning what happens outside, and it may be that I
shall have to travel to Havre to obtain news of him; although I am
troubled greatly by the fear that his ship has been lost, or
captured by the English. We have never been in Paris before, and my
brother naturally wishes to stay a short time, to see the sights."
Madame Tourrier shook her head.
"There are but few sights to see," she said. "The churches are all
closed, or at least are turned into meeting places and clubs. It is
not as it was before the troubles began; there are few amusements,
and no reviews or pageants. I do not say that it is not better so.
I have no opinion on such subjects. I have never once been to the
hall of representatives. I have no time for such follies and,
except on Sunday afternoons, I never stir out of doors. Still, no
doubt, it will all be new to him, and as you have horses you can
ride over to Versailles, and other places round. There is not much
of that now; people think of nothing but the Convention, talk of
nothing but of the speeches there, and of Robespierre and Saint
Just and Danton. It seems to me that they are always quarrelling,
and that nothing much comes of it.
"Now if you will excuse me, madame, I will go down to the shop
again. My husband cannot be trusted there a minute and, if my back
is turned, he will be selling the best sugar for the price of the
worst, then we shall lose money; or the worst sugar for the price
of the best, and then we shall lose customers."
So saying, she hurried away. In a few minutes Leigh came up.
"I was told where to find you," he said. "Madame is in the thick of
business, and there were half a dozen customers waiting to be
served. Monsieur was standing a few yards away from the front of
the shop. It was he who gave me instructions for finding your room.
"'It is best,' he said, 'that madame should be asked no questions
while she is busy. I always go out myself, when customers come in.
She is one of the best of wives, and manages affairs excellently,
but her temper is short. She likes to do things her own way and, as
it pleases her, I never interfere with her.'"
"I think he is wise not to do so," Patsey laughed. "I can see
already that she is mistress of the establishment. But from what I
have seen at Nantes, I think that it is generally the women who
look after the shops and mind the businesses. However, though she
speaks sharply, I should say that she is a kind-hearted woman.
However, we may be very thankful that we have obtained a shelter
where we can live, safely and quietly, until we have fixed on our
plans for the future."
But although Monsieur Tourrier was, in all matters connected with
the business, but as a child in the hands of his wife, he was far
better acquainted with what was passing around them; and when Leigh
mentioned to him that he intended to ride out to Versailles, he at
once warned him against doing so.
"My dear monsieur," he said, "I know nothing of the state of things
at Arthenay, and for aught I know people may go out riding for
pleasure there; but it would be little short of madness to attempt
such a thing here. At present things have got to such a state that
for any man to seem richer than another is, in itself, a crime.
Here all must be on an equality. Were you to ride out, every man
you pass would look askance at you. At the first village through
which you rode you would be arrested, and to be arrested at present
is to be condemned. There are no questions asked, the prisoners are
brought in in bunches, and are condemned wholesale. I say nothing
against the condemnation of the aristocrats; but when perhaps two
or three aristocrats are brought up with half a dozen journalists,
and a dozen others who may have been arrested merely out of spite,
and are all condemned in five minutes, it is clear that the only
way to live is to avoid being arrested, and the only way to avoid
being arrested is to avoid attracting attention.
"If you were really going on a matter of business, it would be
different, but to ride to Versailles merely to see the place would
be regarded as ample proof that you were an aristocrat; and no one
would regard your papers as anything but a proof that these had
been obtained by fraud, and that you were either an aristocrat, or
a spy of Pitt's, or a Girondist, and certainly an enemy of the
Convention. Therefore, monsieur, if you wish to go anywhere, walk,
or go out in a market cart, for to ride might be fatal."
"I will take your advice," Leigh said. "I did not think that things
were so bad as that."
"They could not be worse, monsieur; it would be impossible. But we
who are quiet men think that it cannot go on much longer; even the
sans-culottes are getting tired of bloodshed. There is no longer a
great crowd to see the executions, and the tumbrils pass along
without insults and imprecations being hurled against the
prisoners.
"The men of the Convention, having killed all the Girondists, are
now quarrelling among themselves. Robespierre is still all
powerful, but the party opposed to him are gaining in strength, and
there is a feeling that, ere long, there will be a terrible
struggle between them and, if Robespierre is beaten, there are many
of us who think that the reign of terror will come to an end. We
who are too insignificant to be watched talk these things over
together, when we gather at our cafe, and there is no one but
ourselves present; and even then we talk only in whispers, but we
all live in hopes of a change, and any change must surely be for
the better."