THE FLOWER-GIRL.
At length the anticipated Thursday, the day of Maurice's guard,
arrived. It was now the month of June. The sky was of a deep and
cloudless blue, and against this sheet of blue rose the heavy white
mass of new houses. The coming of the dreadful dog-star was already
foreseen,--that dog represented by the ancients as thirsting with
an unquenchable thirst, and which, to borrow the phraseology of the
plebeian Parisians, licked the pavement very dry. Paris was clean as a
carpet, and perfumes filled the air, mounting from the trees, emanating
from the flowers, circulating and intoxicating with joy, as if to
render the inhabitants of the capital forgetful for a few moments of
that vapor of blood which rose without intermission from the pavement
of their streets.
It was Maurice's duty to enter the Temple at nine o'clock; his two
colleagues were Mercevault and Agricola. At eight o'clock he was in the
old Rue Saint Jacques, in grand costume as citizen municipal,--that
is to say, with a tricolored scarf tightly fastened round his lithe,
muscular frame. He as usual rode there on horseback, and on his route
won the sincere approbation, admiration, and eulogiums of the fair
patriots who saw him pass. Geneviève was already prepared; she wore a
simple muslin dress, a species of light taffeta mantle, and a small
bonnet ornamented with the tricolored cockade. Thus attired, she was of
dazzling beauty.
Morand, who, as we have seen, had been earnestly solicited to accompany
them, had, no doubt for fear of being mistaken for an aristocrat,
attired himself in his usual costume,--half-burgess, half-artisan.
He had just entered, and his countenance betrayed great fatigue; he
said he had been at work all night, in order to complete some urgent
business.
Dixmer had gone out immediately on the return of his friend Morand.
"Well," demanded Geneviève, "what have you decided on, Maurice; and how
are we to see the queen?"
"Listen," said Maurice, "I have arranged everything. I shall arrive at
the Temple with you, and then introduce you to my friend Lorin, who
commands the guard; I then take my post, and on the first opportunity
will come for you."
"But," demanded Morand, "where are we to see the prisoners, and how are
we to see them?"
"At either their breakfast or their dinner, if that will suit you,
through the glazed partition of the municipals."
"Perfectly," said Morand.
Maurice then saw Morand approach a cupboard at the farther end of the
_salle-à-manger_, and drink hastily a glass of pure wine, which rather
surprised him, as Morand was usually very abstemious, his strongest
beverage being water merely colored with wine.
Geneviève saw that Maurice regarded him with astonishment.
"Only imagine," said she, "he must be half-dead with fatigue; he has
taken nothing since yesterday morning."
"Did he not dine here?" asked Maurice.
"No; he was trying some experiments in the city."
Geneviève took a useless precaution with respect to Maurice, since
lover-like he was an egotist, and had merely bestowed upon the action
of Morand that superficial attention which an amorous man accords to
everything except the woman whom he loves.
To his glass of wine Morand added a crust of bread, which he hastily
swallowed.
"And now," said he, "dear Citizen Maurice, I am quite ready; when you
choose we will depart."
Maurice, who was stripping the decayed petals from one of the dead
carnations he had plucked in passing, now offered his arm to Geneviève,
saying,--
"Let us start."
On their way Maurice felt so happy that he could scarcely contain
himself; he would have uttered cries of joy had he not restrained
his emotion. What could he desire more? Not only had he acquired the
certainty that she did not love Morand, but also the hope that he
possessed her affection. The glorious sun shone upon the world, the
arm of Geneviève was reposing within his own, while the public criers,
shouting at the top of their voices the triumph of the Jacobins and the
defeat of Brissot and his party, announced that the country was saved.
There are truly moments in life when the heart of man seems too small
to contain the joy or grief concentrated there.
"Oh, what a lovely day!" exclaimed Morand.
Maurice turned round in surprise. This was the first burst of feeling
he had ever heard issue from the lips of this singularly reserved and
absent man.
"Oh, yes; it is indeed lovely," said Geneviève, pressing closer the arm
of Maurice; "would that it may continue till evening pure and cloudless
as it is now!"
Maurice applied these words to himself, and his happiness redoubled
each moment.
Morand at the same time regarded Geneviève through his green
spectacles with a peculiar, grateful expression. Perhaps he also
applied her wish to himself.
They thus crossed the Petit Pont, the Rue de la Juiverie, and the
Bridge Notre Dame; they then proceeded to the Place de l'Hôtel de
Ville, the Rue Barre-du-Bec, and the Rue Sainte Avoie. As they
progressed, Maurice's step became more and more elastic, while on the
contrary those of his male and female companions waxed slower and
slower.
They had reached the corner of the Rue des Vieilles-Audriettes, when
all at once a flower-girl impeded their passage, by offering them her
basket filled with flowers.
"Oh, what magnificent carnations!" cried Maurice.
"Oh, yes, very beautiful!" said Geneviève; "it seems the cultivator of
these had no preoccupation to distress him, for they are not withered
and dead."
This speech sank deep into the heart of the young man.
"Ah! my brave Municipal," said the flower-girl, "purchase a bouquet
for the pretty citizen. She is dressed in white; look at these superb
crimson carnations; white and purple look well together. She will place
the bouquet upon her heart, and as her heart is near to your blue coat,
you will have there the national colors."
The flower-girl was young and pretty; her compliment was well-turned
and well-chosen, for had it been made expressly for that occasion,
it could not have better applied to the circumstances. Besides, the
flowers were almost symbolical; they were similar to those now dead.
"I will purchase some," said Maurice, "since they are carnations; all
other flowers I detest."
"Ah, Maurice," said Geneviève, "it is useless, we have so many of them
in the garden."
But although her lips uttered the refusal, her eyes expressed a longing
desire to possess them.
Maurice selected the most beautiful of the bouquets. It was the one the
pretty flower-girl had presented to him.
It consisted of twenty deep red carnations, emitting an odor at once
sweet and pungent; in the centre, towering above the rest, rose a
magnificent carnation.
"Here," said Maurice to the seller, throwing on her basket a bill of
five francs, "that is for you."
"Thanks, my brave Municipal," said the flower-girl, "a thousand thanks."
And she went toward another couple, trusting the day commenced thus
auspiciously would so continue till its close. During this apparently
simple scene, which had only occupied a few seconds at most, Morand
seemed scarcely able to support himself, and wiped the perspiration
from his pallid brow, while Geneviève also turned pale and trembled.
She took the nosegay which Maurice presented to her, and clasping it in
her lovely hand, held it to her face, less to inhale the odor than to
conceal her emotion.
The remainder of the journey was pleasant, at least so far as
concerned Maurice. As for Geneviève, her gayety seemed affected, and
Morand evinced his enjoyment in a fashion peculiar to himself,--that
is to say, in smothered sighs or startling bursts of laughter, and
occasionally uttering some formidable witticisms which fell upon the
passers-by like sparks of fire.
At nine o'clock they reached the Temple.
Santerre called over the municipals.
"I am here," said Maurice, leaving Geneviève under the care of Morand.
"Welcome," said Santerre, holding out his hand to the young man.
Maurice took care not to refuse the hand thus offered to him. The
friendship of Santerre was certainly most valuable at this epoch.
At sight of this man who had commanded the famous rolling of drums,
Geneviève shuddered, and Morand turned pale.
"Who is this lovely citizeness?" demanded Santerre of Maurice, "and
what does she here?"
"She is the wife of the brave Citizen Dixmer; you have heard this
excellent patriot spoken of, Citizen General?"
"Yes, yes," replied Santerre; "the chief of a tannery, captain of
chasseurs of the legion Victor."
"The same."
"Good! good! My faith, she is pretty. And this ugly fellow who has
given her his arm?"
"That is the Citizen Morand, her husband's partner, and chasseur in
Dixmer's company."
Santerre approached Geneviève.
"Good-day, Citizeness," said he.
Geneviève made an effort.
"Good-day, Citizen General," replied she, smiling.
Santerre felt flattered by both title and smile.
"And what brings you here, fair patriot?" continued Santerre.
"The citizeness," replied Maurice, "has never seen Widow Capet, and
would like to see her."
"Yes," said Santerre, "before--" and he made an atrocious gesture.
"Precisely," replied Maurice, coldly.
"Very well," said Santerre, "only mind they are not seen entering the
keep: it would be a bad example; in other respects, do as you think
fit."
Santerre again shook hands with Maurice, made an inclination of his
head to Geneviève in a friendly and protecting manner, and went to
attend to his other duties.
After a great many evolutions of gendarmes and chasseurs, after some
manœuvring with cannon, the heavy reverberations of which, it was
considered, carried to the environs a salutary admonition, Maurice gave
Geneviève his arm, and followed closely by Morand, advanced toward the
post, at the door of which Lorin was vociferating loudly, commanding
the manœuvres of his battalion.
"Good!" cried he, "why there is Maurice; _peste!_ with a female too who
appears to me rather agreeable. Does the sly rascal wish to bring her
into competition with my Goddess Reason? If it were so, poor Arthémise!"
"Hallo! Citizen Adjutant," said the captain.
"Ah! that's right; attention!" said Lorin; "file to the left,
left--Good-day, Maurice; not so quickly--"
The drums rolled, the company dispersed to their respective places, and
when each was at his post, Lorin hastened to exchange compliments with
his friend. Maurice presented Lorin to Geneviève and Morand. Then an
explanation commenced as to the purport of their visit.
"Yes, I understand," said Lorin; "you wish your friends to enter the
keep; that is easily managed. I will go directly and station the
sentinels, then I will order them to admit you and your friends."
In ten minutes afterward Geneviève and Morand entered behind the three
municipals, and placed themselves behind the glazed partition.