THE UNKNOWN.
There was in this voice an accent of so much terror, mingled with
superiority, that Maurice was startled. Like a stroke of electricity,
this vibrating voice had touched his heart. He turned toward the
enrolled Volunteers, who were talking among themselves. Humiliated
at having been held in check by a single individual, they were now
consulting together with the visible intention of regaining their lost
ground. They were eight against one; three were armed with guns, the
remainder with pistols and pikes. Maurice wore only his sabre. The
contest could not be an equal one. Even the woman comprehended this, as
she held down her head and uttered a deep sigh.
As to Maurice, with his brows knit, his lip disdainfully curled, and
his sabre drawn from its scabbard, he stood irresolute, fluctuating
between the sentiments of a man and a citizen,--the one urging him to
protect the woman, the other counselling him to give her up. All at
once, at the corner of the Rue des Bons-Enfans, he saw the reflection
of several muskets, and heard also the measured tread of a patrol, who,
perceiving a crowd, halted within a few paces of the group, and through
the corporal demanded, "Who goes there?"
"A friend," said Maurice. "A friend! Advance, Lorin!"
He to whom this order was addressed, placed himself at the head of his
eight men, and quickly approached.
"Is it you, Maurice?" said the corporal. "Ah, libertine! what are you
doing in the streets at this hour?"
"You see, I come from the section of Brothers and Friends."
"Yes; to visit that of sisters and friends. We know all about that.
"Ah, listen, ma belle,
When the dusk midnight hour
The church-bell shall toll,
I will haste to thy bower;
To thy side I will steal,
Spite of bolts and of bars,
And my love will reveal
'Neath the light of the stars.
Is it not so, eh?"
"No, friend, you are mistaken. I was on my way home when I discovered
this citizen struggling in the hands of these citizen Volunteers, and
ran up to inquire why they wished to detain her."
"It is just like you," said Lorin.
"For all the world knows that the fair sex so dear
Has ever a friend in the French cavalier."
Then turning toward the Volunteers, "Why did you stop this woman?"
inquired the poetical corporal.
"I have already told the lieutenant," replied the chief of the little
troop, "because she had no pass."
"Bah! bah!" said Lorin, "a great crime, certainly."
"Are you then ignorant of the decree of the Commune?" demanded the
chief of the Volunteers.
"Yes; but there is another clause which annuls that."
"Which?"
"Listen:--
"On Pindus and Parnassus, it is decreed by Love,
That Beauty's witching face,
That Youth and fairy Grace,
Without a pass, by day or night, may through the city rove.
What do you say to this decree, Citizen? it is gallant, it seems to me."
"Yes; but it does not appear to me peremptory. In the first place it
has not appeared in the 'Moniteur;' then we are neither upon Pindus nor
Parnassus; it is not yet day; and lastly, the citizeness is perhaps
neither graceful, young, nor fair."
"I wager the contrary," said Lorin. "Prove that I am in the right,
Citizeness; remove your hood that all may judge if you come under the
conditions of the decree."
"Monsieur," said the young woman, pressing closer to Maurice, "having
saved me from your enemies, protect me now from your friends, I beseech
you."
"You see," said the chief, "how she hides herself. In my opinion she is
a spy of the aristocrats,--some street-walker."
"Oh, Monsieur!" said the young woman, stepping before Maurice, and
discovering a face radiant with youth, rank, and beauty, visible by the
light of the lamp, "do I look like what they have termed me?"
Maurice was dazzled. He had never even dreamed of beauty equal to that
he had caught sight of for a moment, and only for a moment, since the
unknown had again concealed her face in the hood as rapidly as she had
unveiled it. "Lorin," said Maurice, in a whisper, "claim the prisoner,
that you may conduct her to your post; you have a right to do so as
chief of patrol."
"Very good," said the young corporal, "I understand with half a word."
Then, addressing himself to the unknown, "Let us go, ma belle,"
continued he; "since you will not afford us the proof that you are
within the conditions of the decree, you must follow us."
"Why follow you?" said the chief of the enrolled Volunteers.
"Certainly. We shall conduct the citizeness to the post of the Hôtel de
Ville, where we are on guard, and there she will be examined."
"Not so, not so," said the chief of the first troop; "she belongs to
us, and we will keep her."
"Citizens, citizens," said Lorin, "you will make me angry!"
"Angry, or not angry, _morbleu_, it is equally the same to us. We are
true soldiers of the Republic, and while you patrol the streets, we go
to shed our blood on the frontier."
"Take care you do not shed it by the way, citizens, which is very
likely to occur, if you are not rather more polite than you are at
present."
"Politeness is a virtue appertaining to the aristocracy, and we belong
to the lower orders," replied the chief.
"Do not speak of these things before Madame," said Lorin, "perhaps she
is an Englishwoman. Do not be angry at the supposition, my beautiful
bird of the night," added he, gallantly, turning toward the unknown.
"Doubtless you are conversant with the poets, and one of them tells us
'that England is a swan's nest situated in the midst of a large pond.'"
"Ah! you betray yourself," said the chief of the enrolled; "you avow
yourself a creature of Pitt, in the pay of England. A--"
"Silence," said Lorin; "you do not understand poetry; therefore I must
speak to you in prose. We are National Guards, affable and patient
fellows enough, but still children of Paris,--that is to say, if we are
provoked we strike rather hard."
"Madame," said Maurice, "from what you have now witnessed you can
easily imagine what will soon follow. In five minutes ten or twelve
men will be cutting one another's throats for you. Is the cause your
defenders have embraced worthy of the blood they are about to shed?"
"Monsieur," replied the unknown, clasping her hands, "I can only assure
you that if you permit me to be arrested, the result to myself will be
dreadful, but to others fatal; and that rather than you should abandon
me, I would beseech you to pierce me through the heart with the weapon
you hold in your hand, and cast my corpse into the Seine."
"Madame," replied Maurice, "I will take all the responsibility upon
myself;" and letting drop the hand of the lovely _incognita_ which he
held in his own,--
"Citizens," said he, addressing himself to the National Guard, "as an
officer, as a patriot, and a Frenchman, I command you to protect this
woman. And, Lorin, if any of these _canaille_ say one word, put them to
the bayonet."
"Carry arms!" cried Lorin.
"God of mercy!" cried the unknown, enveloping her head still closer in
her hood, and supporting herself against a post, "O God! protect him!"
The Volunteers directly placed themselves on the defensive, and one
among them fired his pistol, the ball passing through the hat of
Maurice.
"Charge bayonets!" cried Lorin.
Then, in the darkness of night, a scene of struggling and confusion
ensued, during which one or two shots were heard, followed by cries,
imprecations, and blasphemies; but no one appeared, because, as we have
said, a massacre was secretly debated, and it was believed that it had
commenced. Two or three windows only were opened for an instant, but
were immediately closed. Less in number, and worse armed, the enrolled
Volunteers were in an instant defeated. Two were badly wounded and four
others pinned against the wall, each with a bayonet at his breast.
"There," said Lorin, "I hope now you will remain as quiet as lambs. As
for you, Citizen Maurice, I order you to conduct this woman to the post
of the Hôtel de Ville. You understand you are answerable for her."
"Yes," said Maurice. Then, in a low tone, "And the password?" added he.
"The devil!" said Lorin, rubbing his ear, "the password; it is--"
"Do not fear I shall make a bad use of it."
"Faith," said Lorin; "make what use you like of it, that is your
concern."
"Tell me then," said Maurice.
"I will tell you all in good time, but let us first dispose of these
tipsy fellows. Then, before we part, I shall not be sorry to give you a
few words of advice."
"Well, I will wait."
Lorin then turned to his National Guards, who still kept the enrolled
Volunteers in subjection.
"Now," said he, to the latter, "have you had sufficient?"
"Yes, dog of a Girondin," replied the chief.
"You deceive yourself, my friend," said Lorin, coolly; "we are better
sans-culottes than yourselves, seeing that we belong to the club of
Thermopyles, of whose patriotism no one, I hope, entertains a doubt.
Let these citizens go," continued Lorin, "they resist no longer."
"It is not the less true that if this woman is an object of
suspicion--"
"If she was a suspicious character she would have made her escape
during this skirmish, and not, as you see she has done, waited till it
had terminated."
"Hum!" said one of the Volunteers, "What the Citizen Thermopyle
observes is quite true."
"Besides, we shall know, since my friend is going to conduct her to the
Poste, while we go and drink to the health of the nation."
"Are we going to drink?" said the chief.
"Certainly, I am very thirsty, and I know a pretty little cabaret at
the corner of the Rue Thomas du Louvre."
"Why did you not say so at once, Citizen? We are sorry to have doubted
your patriotism; and to prove it, let us, in the name of the nation and
the law, embrace each other as friends."
"Let us embrace," said Lorin.
And the enrolled Volunteers and the National Guards embraced with warm
enthusiasm. At this period the French people were as anxious to embrace
as to behead one another.
"Let us now go," cried the two united troops, "to the corner of the Rue
Thomas du Louvre."
"And we," said one of the wounded, in a plaintive voice, "do you intend
to abandon us here?"
"Ah, well! yes," said Lorin, "abandon the heroes who have fallen
bravely fighting for their country against patriots--it is true
by mistake, but still true for all that; we will send you some
wheelbarrows. Meanwhile you can sing the Marseillaise, it will divert
you."
Then approaching Maurice, who was waiting for him, with the unknown, at
the corner of the Rue du Coq, while the National Guards and enrolled
Volunteers arm-in-arm retraced their steps toward the square of the
Palais-Egalité,--
"Maurice," said he, "I promised you some counsel, and it is this.
Be persuaded to accompany us, rather than compromise yourself by
protecting this young woman, who, it is true, is very charming, and on
that account not the less to be suspected; for charming women who run
about the streets of Paris at midnight--"
"Sir," said the young woman, "judge me not from appearances, I implore
you."
"In the first place, you say _sir_, and that is a great fault. Do you
understand, Citizeness, what I say?"
"Of course I do, Citizen; but allow your friend to accomplish his kind
action."
"In what way?"
"By conducting me home, and protecting me on my road."
"Maurice, Maurice," said Lorin, "consider well what you are about; you
will compromise yourself terribly."
"I know it well," said the young man; "but what would you have me do?
If I leave the poor woman, she will be stopped at every step by the
patrols."
"Oh, yes, yes! while with you, sir,--while with you, Citizen, I meant
to say, I shall be safe."
"You hear," said Lorin, "safe! She then runs great danger?"
"My dear Lorin," said Maurice, "let us be just. She must be either a
good compatriot or an aristocrat. If she is an aristocrat, we have
erred in protecting her; if she is a good patriot, it is our duty to
preserve her."
"Your pardon, friend; I am sorry for Aristotle, but your logic is at
fault. See what he says:--
"Iris my reason steals away,
And yet she tells me to be wise;
Oh, lady! I can only say,
Then turn away those glorious eyes."
"Lorin," said Maurice, "a truce to Dorat, to Parny, and to
Gentil-Bernard, I pray you. Speak seriously; will you, or will you not,
give me the password?"
"That is to say, Maurice, you place me in this dilemma,--I must either
sacrifice my duty to my friend, or my friend to my duty; but I fear,
Maurice, my duty will fall the sacrifice."
"Decide, then, for one or the other, my friend; but in the name of
Heaven, decide quickly."
"You will not abuse it?"
"I promise you."
"That is not sufficient; swear!"
"Upon what?"
"Swear upon the altar of your country."
Lorin pulled off his hat, presenting to Maurice the side with the
cockade, and Maurice, finding the affair very simple, took, without
smiling, the oath required upon this improvised altar.
"Now, then," said Lorin, "this is the password--France and Lutèce;
perhaps you would say, France and Lucrèce; but let that pass, it is
Roman all the same."
"Fair Citizeness," said Maurice, "I am now at your service. Thanks,
Lorin."
"_Bon voyage_," cried Lorin, replacing on his head "the altar of his
country," and faithful to his Anacreontic taste, departed singing:--
"Eleonora, Eleonora!
Now I've taught you how to love,
Tell your passionate adorer
Does the lesson weary prove?"