THE LAST MOVE
On the night of the tenth of May, Jean attended a meeting of the
Brotherhood. He expected nothing unusual to happen, and was prepared
only to give an account of the little King's welfare during the last few
days. He entered as usual, and found the great room full of masked
figures. But one place remained vacant, and he slipped into it two
minutes before the command for unmasking. In these two minutes he
glanced at his right-hand companion, finding something vaguely familiar
in the short, slight figure. Then came the order to unmask, and a second
later Jean gave a little cry of joy and astonishment, for at his right
hand sat his former well-beloved friend, Napoleon Bonaparte!
Lean and sallow and poorly clad as ever, but with the same hauntingly
brilliant eyes, it was as though not more than a day had passed since
they last met. Bonaparte expressed a similar astonishment at beholding
Jean, but the business-meeting being in full swing, they could exchange
no more than a hearty hand-clasp under the table. But when the meeting
was dismissed, Bonaparte invited Jean to walk home to his lodgings with
him, and talk over their long period of separation.
"By all the saints! Jean, I should never know you! You have grown a foot
at least! But this is a singular meeting! Yes, I am back in Paris," said
Bonaparte. "I arrived to-day. Perhaps you wonder at finding me in the
Brotherhood meeting, but I will tell you how it happened.
"You must know that at present I am a friend and protege of Barras, who,
by the way, was the leader to-night. Barras was a commissioner of the
Convention at Marseilles while I was there, and he used his influence
to better the condition of my family. So of course I feel somewhat in
his debt, though I partially helped to pay that off by the advice and
assistance I gave at the siege of Toulon. But be that as it may, I have
decided to attach myself to him. He is the man of the hour, and I must
attach myself to _something_!
"Well, recently I received an appointment to come to Paris and command a
brigade of infantry that is soon to stamp out the insurrection in La
Vendee, but, though I came to Paris, I have refused the command. I have
no taste for such butcher's work, and I consider it rather an insult to
be given the infantry when I have always been with the artillery.
Besides that my health is not good at present.
"So I went to Barras to-day, to acquaint him with these matters. He
invited me to sup with him, and then later asked me if I seriously
wished to render him a great assistance. Naturally, as I still feel
much under obligation to him, I replied that I certainly did so wish. He
then told me that he relied on me as a man of honour not to reveal what
I should hear if he took me to the meeting of a secret society. As he
was leader for the evening, it would not be required that I become a
sworn member as yet, and so I went--and met you! Privately I am glad
enough to help that poor child to escape, for I think his inhuman
detention has been one of the greatest outrages in history. But now tell
me how it has fared with you since last we met?" Then Jean gave an
account of the intervening year and a half. When he had ended, Bonaparte
remarked:
"My boy, what you tell me makes me regard you more highly than ever, and
I am not surprised to find you taking so prominent a part in this
scheme. In fact I should have expected it. But let me whisper to you a
few surmises that have occurred to me to-night. It was a curious
meeting, that!--and I amused myself by striving to divine the true
motives of many of the leading characters.
"De Batz and other royalists there have of course but one hope,--to get
Louis XVII out of the clutches of the Republic, no matter how, and then
some day bring him back a victorious king. Then there are not a few
staunch Republicans like Barelle, Meunier and Debierne, who seem
actuated only by the humane wish to rescue the little fellow from his
cruel captivity.
"But one man there has a motive entirely different, and he is the head
and front of it all. That man is Barras! Shall I tell you what is _his_
motive? I have guessed it, though of course he never suspects. He sees
in himself the coming man of power. True, he is powerful already, but he
aims at higher things. He would rescue Louis XVII and remove him to some
distant spot where he can find him if necessary. Later he will use him
to dangle over the heads of the royalists as a bait, and over the
Republicans as a threat, so balancing his influence with both parties.
And at last, at some expedient moment, Louis XVII will disappear
forever, and Barras can make himself anything he wishes,--Dictator,
Emperor, what not! It is a clever scheme!" Jean shook his head.
"I care not what the ultimate scheme of Barras may be," he vouchsafed,
"if only the little fellow can get out of that horrible place! And if I
can assist any, I shall only feel that I have done my duty by him and
his dead mother!" So the two talked far into the night, and dawn was
breaking when Jean went back to the Temple.
But how fared it in the room in the Tower, where a delirious little
stranger masqueraded all unconsciously as Louis XVII of France?
For several days before the exchange was effected, Gomin had been
writing daily in the Temple register, "Little Capet is ill!" This was
quite true, as Louis Charles had been suffering with a severe cold. As
Gomin expected, no attention was paid to this report. On the day after
the strange child was placed in his care, he wrote, "Little Capet is
dangerously ill!" Still no one took any notice of it, and then Lasne,
the new keeper arrived. Taking one look at the inert, stricken boy, he
exclaimed:
"Can that really be the little Dauphin whom I remember so well having
seen in the Park of the Tuileries? I should never recognise him! He must
be terribly ill. Have you sent for a physician?"
"Yes," answered Gomin. "At least I have reported his sickness, but
nothing has been done about it." That night Lasne wrote in the register,
"Little Capet is so ill that it is feared he will not live!" Then, and
not till then, did the authorities see fit to act on so unimportant a
matter, and they designated physician Desault to attend the boy. Desault
was not long in discovering that his services would be all but useless.
The child was far beyond hope, and all he could do was to ease any
possible suffering. Desault himself was taken suddenly ill, not long
after, and died a short time before the supposed prince. Two other
physicians took his place, though they too felt assured that their
services would not be needed long. At last, word was sent forth on the
tenth of June, "Little Capet is dead!" The event not being considered as
of any special importance by the public at large, it was ordered that he
be buried as quickly and with as little ceremony as possible. This was
done as directed, the reports were duly made out, and _officially_ Louis
XVII was no more!
But _unofficially_, in the little attic room, Louis XVII was very much
alive, and wild with anxiety to be released from his long confinement!
The time had come for the last step in this great undertaking, and
circumstances had rendered that step far easier than the previous ones
had been. In the first place, La Souris was well out of the way, being
still in a state where it would take months for him to leave his bed.
Then, Louis XVII was considered dead and buried! Therefore, why take any
further precautions for safe-guarding his empty prison, thought the
authorities!
A few days after the little funeral procession had wended its way from
the Tower, Jean and Caron went to the attic room to procure the great
basket with the false bottom. They were going to remove some things from
the room of the "Little dead Capet" to the rubbish pile upstairs. At the
same hour, Mere Clouet and Yvonne were to call for the soiled linen in
the now deserted room. It was all very simple! The sentries on the
stairs took no notice whatever of their proceedings. When they deposited
the basket in the room, Mere Clouet's big clothes-hamper was already
standing there, having been brought in while they were upstairs. Quickly
they took out the false bottom and lifted up Louis Charles. He was alert
and conscious this time, having begged hard not to be drugged.
"I will be _so_ good!" he promised. "I will scarcely breathe! Oh, do let
me go as I am, and see and hear everything!" So they granted his wish.
The change of baskets did not take a moment. As the boy cuddled down in
Mere Clouet's hamper, he took one last look about the room where he had
suffered so much.
"Jean," he whispered, "I pray God that I may never see it again!" Then
they buried him deep beneath a mound of linen.
"Can you breathe?" whispered Jean through the cracks of the basket.
"Nicely! I'm all right!" came the voice from within.
"Then, an revoir!" returned Jean. He and Caron lifted the great burden
to their shoulders and carried it downstairs. No one challenged them. No
one was interested in the contents of a basket which they thought
contained only the soiled clothes of a boy now safely dead and buried!
They shoved the huge hamper into the carriage, slammed the door
carelessly on Citizeness Clouet and Yvonne, and called to the driver:
"Number six hundred and seventy Rue de Lille!" and the cab rolled away.
It was all over, and the little captive of the Temple was free forever!
When Jean came home that night, he found the king busy hugging and
kissing Moufflet, while Mere Clouet and Yvonne looked on admiringly. The
boy was almost frantic with joy at being reunited with his long-lost
pet, and the dog had certainly not forgotten his master, for he seemed
as delighted as Louis Charles himself. For two days the little king lay
hidden in the good keeping of Mere Clouet. On the second night, Jean
took the boy off by himself, to have a last long talk with his friend.
"You know, little king," he said, "that much as we love you, we cannot
keep you always here. That would not be safe or right for you. Other
kind though unknown friends have your interests at heart, and are coming
to-night to take you to a place of greater safety."
"Oh, Jean," replied the frightened boy, "I do not want to leave you! I
wish to stay here! There is no one now in the whole world that I really
love besides my sister and yourselves. Why must I leave you? Where will
they take me?"
"You will be in care of kindly people, that I am sure, though I do not
know whom, nor do I know where you will be taken. But always you will
have freedom and the best of care. Perhaps some day you will come back
to live in Paris, when these troubled times are over. That will be a
happy event to look forward to!"
"But my sister!" persisted the boy. "She is yet in the Tower. When will
she be free also? When can I see her?"
"There is a rumour abroad that she will soon be released and sent to the
court of Austria, in return for certain important prisoners that the
Austrians have lately captured from us. Perhaps you will be permitted to
join her sometime, at your cousin's court." Louis Charles sat a long
while, thinking it over.
"I suppose it must be so," he said at last, "since it is best. But I
shall be very, very lonely! May I have a pair of scissors?" Jean opened
his eyes at this strange request, but he procured a pair from the other
room. Louis Charles took them, raised them to his head, and cut off
three of his soft curls.
"This is for you, Jean!" he said. "It is all I have to give you. And
these are for Madame Clouet and Yvonne. And now, there is one thing more
that I wish you to do for me. I had thought to take the little Moufflet
with me, and never, never part from him. But now I have decided that I
shall give him to my sister, since she is soon to be free. She will
perhaps be as lonely as I am and I want her to have something that will
give her pleasure and remind her of me! Will you do this for me, Jean?"
The older boy was almost overwhelmed at the little fellow's generosity,
knowing well what pain it must cost him to part again with the pet he
had so lately recovered, and which was the sole remaining object that
could remind him of happier days.
"I will surely do this, little friend!" answered Jean, and his voice
shook as he spoke. "And we will all wait, watch, and look forward to the
time when you may come back to us!"
"No one will look forward to it more than I," said the boy, "and yet
something tells me that I shall never come back! But at least I shall
never, never forget you, and all that you have suffered and sacrificed
for my sake! And, Jean, neither will I ever forget that day in the attic
room,--you know which one I mean!" Jean nodded. It was the only time
that Louis Charles had ever since alluded to his mother, or to his great
grief at the news of her death. He kept his sorrow locked always
tightly in his own breast.
Then came the parting with Mere Clouet and Yvonne. He gave them the
little gift of his curls,--the only things he had to bestow,--thanked
them over and over again, kissed them tenderly, and not a few tears of
genuine sorrow were shed by every member of the room. Moufflet he kept
hugged to his breast till the last. All waited in breathless suspense
for the sound that was to indicate the time of parting,--the triple
knock of the Brotherhood. At about two in the morning it came, the three
soft taps so familiar to Jean. He opened the door cautiously, and there
stood two men, masked in the fashion of the band.
"The password!" demanded Jean.
"_Liberation!_" they both replied, "_and Louis XVII of France!_" They
were admitted at once, and saw the little king standing ready. In spite
of their masks, Jean recognised the Baron de Batz and Bonaparte.
However, he knew it was best to hold no personal converse with them.
"Is your majesty ready to accompany us?" inquired the Baron, addressing
Louis.
"I am!" answered the child simply and manfully. There were to be no
tears now, no tempestuous parting. The tender farewell of the lonely boy
to his dearest friends had all come before and was too sacred to be
witnessed by strangers. He was a _king_ now, and the royal blood that
was in him rose to meet the occasion.
"Then come with us!" commanded the second masked figure. Louis XVII
turned to give Moufflet a last caress and then addressed the strangers:
"I am ready! Lead the way!" They wrapped him in a long dark cloak, and
making a sign to Jean to follow, the party left the house and proceeded
on foot to the next street, where a carriage was waiting for them. The
drive was made in absolute silence, but the little king sought and held
Jean's hand all the way. At the Rue Chantereine, number six, the
carriage stopped before the door of a small but handsome mansion. All
four ascended the steps, and De Batz rapped on the door with the knock
of the Brotherhood. The door opened on a hallway perfectly dark, and a
soft voice said:
"Follow me, gentlemen!" At once the door of a room beyond was opened,
and a flood of light revealed the owner of the voice, a woman dressed in
soft, clinging drapery, and of such sylph-like grace and sweetness of
manner, that she almost took Jean's breath away!
"Is this little Louis Charles?" she asked. But without waiting for an
answer, she knelt down and threw her arms about the astonished child.
"Do not fear, poor abused little king!" she crooned. "You will be safe
with me, and I love you already!" And at a sign from her, the three
others withdrew and left the little king and his new protectress
together. On leaving the house De Batz bade Bonaparte and Jean
good-night, and went his own way. But the boy and his friend walked a
few blocks together, before they separated.
"Tell me, Citizen Bonaparte," asked Jean, "who is that lovely lady with
whom we left the little fellow?"
"That," answered Bonaparte, "is a great friend of Barras,--the
Vicomtesse Josephine de Beauharnais!"
When Jean returned to the Rue de Lille, he found Yvonne in tears, and
Mere Clouet thoughtful but happy. He told them what had become of the
king, but Yvonne would not be comforted.
"Oh, why did he have to leave us!" she sobbed. "We could have kept him
so well, and he would have been so happy here with us!"
"No, we could not have kept him!" retorted Jean. "He would not have been
safe here long, and he is going to be very happy with that lovely
lady!" Nevertheless he stood for a long time silent at the window, with
his back to the rest, looking steadily out at nothing. But Mere Clouet
dropped to her knees, clasped her hands, and softly uttered this prayer:
"I praise and thank Thee, O God, that Thou hast permitted us at last to
repay this debt of gratitude to the poor Queen who is now with Thee!"
THE STAR OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE