THE SAVING OF LA TOUR
Jude, who had the instincts of a Spanish Dominican, kept the closest
watch upon the judicial proceedings against the highwaymen. He was
promptly at the Châtelet at the time of their brief and summary trial,
and procuring a _calèche_, sped Versaillesward to retail the news to the
Noailles household. Having done so with considerable _éclat_ to her
Excellency, he pictured to himself an entrancing dream--that of awaking
a joyful sympathy between himself and Cyrène through this highly
congratulatory matter. She would smile upon him so divinely, so highly
applaud his zeal, and begin to compare him favourably with that new
butterfly, Répentigny, whose day must thenceforth come to an end.
It was night before he discovered her whereabouts, for she was at a
ball, accompanying the Maréchale de Noailles, chief lady of honour of
the Queen. The Maréchale was just then occupying the suite of apartments
allotted to her in the Palace, and there Jude waited impatiently until
half-past three before the young widow arrived in her boudoir
accompanied by her maid.
"You did not expect me here, Madame Baroness," he said.
"In truth I did not, sir," she replied with cold surprise.
"I am the bearer of good news to you."
"Indeed!"
"Madame was robbed last month at Fontainebleau."
"And you bring back my jewels, good Abbé?" She began already to seem
more radiant to him than he had dreamed.
"Not that quite."
"You mystify me."
"Madame will remember that three of the villains were caught."
"And Monsieur de Répentigny has found the others?" she cried, her
countenance lighting again.
The Abbé's face fell.
"No, I have more agreeable news."
"You are too slow, as usual."
"Complete justice has been done!"
Her face suddenly turned to motionless marble.
"You mean on those three men?" she asked, with horror, which surprised
him.
"Certainly."
"How?"
"Their legs will crack this very morning in Paris at eight o'clock."
"Those living beings whom I have seen, that cruel death!" she cried.
"Where is the Prime Minister? Christ help me!"
She took no heed of her flimsy, incongruous dress, her fatigue, her need
of sleep. Her soul was overwhelmed with the Christian desire to save,
and in her sudden energy the girl over-awed the reptile before her.
"Why do you wait, sir?" she exclaimed. "Conduct me to the Minister
instantly!"
"What, at this hour? In this manner? Does my lady reflect what will be
said to-morrow throughout the town?" he ejaculated.
"You have my command," she answered him, motioning to her maid to
follow.
Sometimes leading, and sometimes instructed where to go, the Abbé
preceded her through a long maze of chambers and passages, in each of
which sentinels were posted, until they came to the antechamber of
Monsieur de Calonne.
By good luck, the Minister, like herself, had not yet retired, but was
signing papers.
His astonishment was unbounded at both her appearance and her agitated
and remarkable request.
"Baroness," said he, "these men for whom you have such singular though
meritorious sympathy have flagrantly wronged yourself and the King. How
much better are they than the thousands who suffer the same fate every
year under the well-weighed sentences of the bench?"
"What rends me, sir, is to see human beings die, into whose faces I have
looked."
"That speaks well for your heart, Madame; but what about the laws?"
"Are laws just under which three lives are set against a few trinkets?"
"Well, Baroness, that is the business not of you nor me, but of the
magistrates. You admit at least the guilt of the criminals against
society?"
"What has society done for these creatures? What have we who live at
ease in Versailles done to make them good citizens? But I cease to
argue, my lord, and know that in doing so I am presuming beyond any
rights I might have. Listen, then, with your good heart--for all France
knows the good heart of Monsieur de Calonne--to the intercession of a
woman for three of her dying, neglected, and miserable fellow-men."
"They have a fair and powerful advocate," he said, smiling agreeably.
Calonne no longer resisted her appeal, but wrote the necessary order.
Putting profound gratitude as well as respect into her three parting
curtseys, she flew with it to her chamber.
"Get me an _enragé_," she exclaimed to Jude. An _enragé_ was one of
those lean post-horses specially used for quick travel to and from
Paris, a distance they could make in a couple of hours.
She would trust no one with the Minister's order, but rapidly threw on a
cloak and cap during the absence of the Abbé.
_Enragés_ were generally to be had on short notice day or night, but
this night it seemed as if there were none in all Versailles; her
anxiety and impatience increased, and she paced the room in agony of
mind. At last Jude returned, and announced the vehicle.
Descending hastily, she stepped into it, still commanding the
Abbé to accompany her. As it rattled forward, she kept her eyes
fixed impatiently upon the face of her watch. Half-past
six--three-quarters--seven--the quarter--the half--at length they were
checked at the Châtelet by the crowd surging and swaying around them,
with the wave-like confusion of the riot, heard the musketry, and
learned from a guard who ran to protect her the cause of the trouble,
and that the execution was about to take place on the Place de Grève.
Jude, in cowardly terror, fell back in a stupor, but the coachman was of
that Parisian type to whom popular danger was like champagne, and on the
promise of a louis he lashed his foaming horse to the Place de Grève.
The shrieks of the second victim and the shouts and drums informed
Cyrène only too well what was passing. She leaped from the cabriolet,
and rushed for the platform.
The strange sight of a beautiful Court lady in ball dress, pushing her
way forward in such agitation, had an instantaneous effect on the crowd,
and they opened a way to the centre. Stumbling past them, she threw out
the paper she carried towards the officer-in-command, and fell fainting
at his feet. Hugues de la Tour thus escaped execution.