While Clara was in this state of uncertainty, she remained in all the
watchfulness of doubt; but when her resolution was once formed, she
fell into a profound sleep, from which she did not wake till late upon
the subsequent morning. The sun had been up for several hours, and the
small room, to the precincts of which she was confined, was close and
oppressive; and after listening for a few moments at the partition, to
ensure that no strangers were in the farm, she knocked gently, to call
the attention of Ninette.
No one answered; but on listening again, she plainly heard the young
_paysanne_ bustling about her usual occupations in the kitchen, and
she once more endeavoured to make herself heard. Still no reply was
returned, and concluding that some danger existed, of which she was
not aware, she desisted, and merely opened a small window, consisting
of a single pane of glass, which, concealed amongst the masonry,
served to give a portion of air and light to the apartment itself,
without being discernible from the courtyard into which it looked.
Clara succeeded in drawing back the window, as she had done before on
the preceding day; and a soft fresh air of summer, that now breathed
warm and fragrant upon her cheek, made her long for peace and freedom.
The little aperture was too high to afford any view of the world
without; but Clara paused to listen, in order that her ear might not
be quite so much prisoner as her eye. The first sounds she heard from
the court, however, were not the most welcome. There was the tramp of
armed men, with the grounding of muskets; and the next moment she
could distinguish plainly from the other side, the voice of old La
Browse speaking angrily to Ninette as he entered the kitchen in haste.
"Base girl!" he cried, "what means these soldiers without? You have
betrayed us, Ninette--you have betrayed us--and have brought the stain
of treachery upon my hearth! Out upon thee!--out upon thee! base
girl!"
Even as he spoke there were other sounds in the cottage; and it was
now evident that the house was in the hands of a party of the
revolutionary troops from Nantes. Clara trembled in every limb; but
she gently drew near and listened at the door that opened into the
_armoire_, while the commandant of the detachment, with many a threat
and many a blasphemy, interrogated old La Brousse upon the place of
her concealment. She was mentioned by name--her person was described,
and there could be no earthly doubt that the information which led to
the search that was then in progress had been accurate and precise.
Still old La Brousse held out; and as the soldiers seemed ignorant of
the exact place of her concealment, he sternly refused to aid them by
a word. At, length there was a pause; and then the voice of the
commandant was again heard in a tone of command.
"Take him out into the court," he said. "Draw up a party--place the
old brigand against the barn-door, and give him a volley! Let us see
whether the wolf will die dumb! If she be given up, you save your
life, old man!"
"It is not worth saving," replied La Brousse; and there was a noise of
feet moving towards the door. As we have said, Clara de la Roche
trembled in every limb; but she did not hesitate: with a firm hand,
she withdrew the bolt of the concealed door, and in the next moment
stood before her pursuers. The scene around her was one that might
well make her heart quail. In the midst of a number of ferocious
faces, sat the well-known Carrier, one of the most sanguinary monsters
which the French revolution had generated. His naked sword lay beside
him on the table, and with his hand he pointed to the door, towards
which a party of the soldiers were leading poor old La Brousse. In the
other corner of the apartment, overpowered by the consciousness of
base treachery, lay fainting on the floor the unhappy Ninette, not
even noticed by those to whom she had betrayed the secret intrusted to
her; and several soldiers were seen descending the staircase that led
to the rooms above, through which they had been prosecuting an
ineffectual search. The suddenness of Clara's appearance, and her
extraordinary beauty, seemed for a moment to surprise even Carrier
himself, and starting up, he gazed upon her for an instant, at the
same time making a sign with his hand to the soldiers who were leading
the old farmer towards the door.
Clara was very pale, and her heart beat with all that hurried
throbbing to which the struggle between horror, terror, and noble
resolution, might well give rise. "I claim your promise, sir!" she
said, advancing towards the leader of the revolutionary force: "I
claim your promise, sir! You said, if Clara de la Roche were given up,
yonder old man's life should be spared."
Carrier paused, and still gazed upon her; but his pause proceeded from
no feeling of mercy towards poor old La Brousse, nor from any
difficulty in finding an excuse for violating his promise. Such
considerations never impeded the progress of a Jacobin. He did pause,
however; and with a look, conveying to the mind of the unhappy girl
more feelings of repugnance than the aspect of death itself might have
done, he answered; "You are as bold as you are beautiful. Knowing
yourself to be a brigand,[5] and the daughter of a brigand, are you
not afraid?"
--------------------
[Footnote 5: The name of brigand was the common term applied by the
revolutionists to the Vendeans.]
--------------------
"I have done no wrong," replied Clara, "and why should I fear?"
"Well, well," he answered, "the time may come, and the time will come,
when you will fear; and when such is the case, send for Carrier, who
may then, perhaps, find means to console you. As for that old
brigand," he added, assuming an air of dignity, "I will keep my word.
Set him free; but take care, Citizen La Brousse, how you venture to
shelter an aristocrat again. There will be no mercy for a second
offence."
Clara looked upon her own fate as sealed, but she thanked Heaven that
her safety had not been purchased by the blood of the devoted old man;
and, patiently suffering herself to be placed on horseback, she was
led away towards Nantes, the streets of which city, and the river
which flowed past its streets, were every day stained with the blood
of creatures, young, and fair, and beautiful as herself.
As the last soldiers wound away from the farm, the leader selected
five from amongst them, and gave some orders in a whisper, which
instantly made them turn from the line of march that their comrades
were pursuing, and take the path over the hill. This done, he himself
rode up to the side of the unhappy girl he had captured, and poured
into her ears a strain of wild and ferocious raving about revolutions,
mingled with words of impure and fearful import, that made her heart
sink.
At length they approached the town of Nantes. It was a beautiful
evening in the height of summer, with the whole sky full of purple
light; while the splendid city, rising from the banks of the water,
was reflected in a thousand glistening lines from the bright bosom of
the river. The air was light and soft; the heavens were calm and
cloudless; there were birds singing in the tranquil freshness of the
evening; and every thing spoke of peace and happiness. But as the
party which escorted Clara de la Roche approached the banks of the
Loire, her eye rested on a large boat, filled with human beings of
every age, and sex, and class--from the old man with snowy hair, to
the curly-headed child--from the lovely girl of eighteen, to the aged
matron whose remaining hours could have been but few at best--from the
old chivalrous noble of France, to some refractory Jacobin--from
virtue and purity itself, to her who gained the means of life, or of
luxury, by the abandonment of all holiness of heart. They were tied
together; and though some wept and cast down their eyes, while others
looked up, appealing to the glowing heaven above them, all were
silent. At length two or three ferocious-looking wretches, who had
been pushing the boat forward towards the centre of the river, leaped
into a smaller boat by its side. A cannon-shot was heard as a signal,
a rope was drawn, which seemed to pass under the larger bark; it
rolled for a moment, as if upon a stormy sea--settled heavily
down--there was a loud parting shriek, as its human freight bade the
earth adieu for ever, and a howl of fierce delight from the monsters
that lined the shore.
Clara closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the boat, with
all that it contained, was gone; but where it had last appeared, the
waters were rushing and bubbling, as if the shallow river scarcely
concealed the struggles of the two hundred victims who at that moment
had found eternity beneath its waves. The brain of the poor prisoner
reeled; her heart felt sick; the next moment sense forsook her, and
she fell from the horse that had borne her through such a scene of
crime and horror. A brief pause, of happy forgetfulness followed next;
and then, when her eyes opened, she found herself in a close dark
dungeon, with a multitude of her fellow-creatures lying round her, in
loathsomeness, and misery, and disease, and despair.