ADVENTURES OF A PILGRIM (CONTINUED)
The farmer's cart nears the gate. The moon-faced Reuben is as
impassive as ever. Though the tall assistant manages to keep his
expression fairly immobile too, 'tis evident to us who know him that
he labors under suppressed excitement. For the prize of his Great
Quest is Henriette; the penalty of discovery and capture, Death!
The gallant young man does not hesitate, however. He has never shrunk
from Danger's bright face, least of all would he shrink now when the
passing of a brief ordeal may well mean reunion with his beloved and
her rescue from the welter of Paris. The Pilgrim's soul hungers and
thirsts for her. After the great Sahara of imprisoned loneliness, how
near the Oasis of love and rapture! How beautiful the prospect, if not
indeed Mirage!
The rustic's helper dismounts with the farmer at the gate, and follows
him into the office of the registrar. The farmer presents a pass.
"This is for one only," says the registrar at the gate, roughly. "The
other cannot go through," he says, pointing to de Vaudrey, who tries
to look as stupid and uncomprehending as possible.
The farmer hands a big red apple to the functionary. But the latter
makes a gesture of refusal.
"Bite into it!" says the Rustic ingratiatingly.
The official bites at the top which comes off--a smooth and even
slice. The centre of the apple is hollow. Within it are several gold
coins.
Quickly the gatekeeper covers the golden apple with his hairy paw.
"Your papers are all right," he says gruffly, rapidly converting the
figure 1 into a 2, and viseing the pass for two. He motions for both
the man and the youth to go through.
The farmer and his follower drive in and mix with the crowd on the
inside of the barrier. At this stage the farmer disappears from our
history. But the face of the youth is noted by an eagle eye and
recognized by a brain that does not forget!
The prowling Judge sees the Chevalier, though the Chevalier does not
see him.
"Follow that man!" he says quietly to his deputies. "We shall catch
him red-handed in some plot!"
* * * * *
Our little heroine had lived quietly for many months in the faubourg
lodgings to which, perforce, she had to return after her vain visit to
the Frochard cellar and her rough handling by the Carmognole rioters.
The little sparrow of a seamstress was quite undisturbed by the great
events of the French Revolution, except as they had put everything at
sixes and sevens and whirled away her own intimates in the mad
whirligig.
The pock-marked man (whom she had sheltered overnight in this very
place) was the Savior of the Country; the prying lodger Robespierre
was the Chief of State. Of course she never saw them now, her small
self would hardly dare address them! Sister Genevieve and the Doctor,
who had told her about the Frochards' den, were no longer within her
ken.
The weary months had dragged along. Notwithstanding the cheering
message conveyed by Picard, her knight the Chevalier--so far as she
knew--was still a prisoner of Caen. And the weary months had dragged
their ball and chain of silence and despair still more wearingly in
the failure of her many renewed attempts to find Louise. The blind
sister was again swallowed up in the devouring city--the Frochards
were fled.
Whither was Henriette to look--whither to turn?
A ray of light from the window glinted on the holy Book of books that
the girl treasured. She opened it. A line read at random comforted
her. Clasping the volume in her hands, she knelt in prayer, addressing
God softly:
"Thou who hast said: 'I am the Light!' oh, show me the way!"
At the sound of a knock at the door, the girl rose from her
supplications. Entered sad and dusty pilgrim, carrying his few
belongings in bag suspended from shoulder stick. Now they dropped
sharply to the floor, and the disguised Chevalier gazed long and
earnestly upon his love.
Her eyes in turn were riveted on his sad, lean apparition, how
terribly changed from the old debonair days! Kind sympathy spoke in
her look and mien till the radiance of love, beginning in little
ghosts of welcoming smiles at the corners of her mouth, broke into
clear effulgence.
The Chevalier tottered forward. He collapsed into the nearest chair.
She put her arms around him and hovered there, comforting him with
affectionate little hand pats and soft kisses.
Jacques-Forget-Not, the avenger of the de Vaudreys, had not been far
behind during the pilgrim's tramp across the city. He had in fact
sneaked back of him, seen the wanderer enter Henriette's door.
Standing at the head of the stair, he could almost overhear stray
phrases of their talk, knew that they were quite within his power.
The shaggy-haired one fairly gloated in his triumph. "Number One!" he
hissed, raising a forefinger in token that de Vaudrey--the first of
his Trinity of Hate--was in the net. "Two and Three shall come next!"
he whispered savagely, knuckling down two other fingers to mark his
vengeance on the Count and Countess.
The shaggy-haired Forget-Not hurried down the stairs, his gaunt
features baleful with unholy glee. Pointing significantly overhead, he
ordered a detail of his guards:
"Arrest de Vaudrey and all in that room!" The men at once proceeded to
carry out the order.
* * * * *
The guard captain would have been equally at home in a pirate crew or
at a land massacre. Enormous black brows and heavy moustache
accentuated his ferocity, the particolored Revolutionary garb and in
particular the red-and-white striped pantaloons gave him a bizarre
appearance like a pirate chief.
The detail were armed with muskets and bayonets. They clattered up the
stairs and burst into Henriette's room.
The lovers seemed dazed rather than affrighted. They clasped each
other again. With a little warning gesture Henriette bade Maurice say
nothing when the captain addressed him as de Vaudrey.
The villain laid a heavy hand on his victim while two of the soldiers
seized and pinioned his arms. "You are under arrest as a returned
emigre!" the head pirate said.
Then he turned his attention to Henriette who made futile little
efforts like a tiny mother wren.
"You are also under arrest, Citizeness," said the captain harshly,
"for the crime of sheltering a returned aristocrat."
"She cannot be blamed," interrupted de Vaudrey. "I entered this place,
uninvited."
"Silence!" roared the Captain. "Your plea, if any, must be made to the
Revolutionary Tribunal."