THE CRIMSON CARNATION.
The queen had just risen. Having been indisposed for two or three days,
she had remained in bed longer than usual; but having heard from her
sister that there had been a splendid sunrise, she made an effort to
quit her couch, and that she might be enabled to breathe the pure air
with her daughter, had requested permission to walk on the platform,
which had been granted her without the slightest difficulty.
She had also been induced to act thus from another cause. Once, and
it is true once only, from the height of the tower she had seen the
dauphin playing in the garden. But at the first signal of recognition
between the mother and child, Simon interfered, and compelled the boy
to retire immediately.
Nevertheless, she had seen him; that was a great source of happiness
to her. True, the poor little prisoner was very pale and much changed.
Then he was dressed as a child of the people, in a blouse and coarse
trousers. But his beautiful fair waving curls were still left him,
forming around him a glory which God no doubt intended the infant
martyr to retain in heaven.
If she could only see him once again, oh, what a cordial to the heart
of the unhappy mother!
There was yet another motive.
"My sister," Madame Elizabeth had said to her, "you know we found in
the corridor a straw standing upright in a corner of the wall. In the
language of our signs this desires us to be watchful, as a friend is
coming near us."
"That is true," replied the queen; who, regarding her sister and child
with pity, would not on their account permit herself to despair of
their ultimate safety.
The duties of the service accomplished, Maurice was then highest
in authority in the keep of the Temple, since chance had elected
him as guard during the day, and the other municipals, Agricola and
Mercevault, as guards during the night.
The municipals had left, after laying their _procès-verbal_ before the
Council of the Temple.
"Ah, Citizen Municipal," said the woman Tison, coming forward to salute
Maurice, "you bring company, then, to see our caged pigeons? It is only
I who am condemned no more to see my poor Sophie."
"They are friends of mine," said Maurice, "who have never yet seen the
Widow Capet."
"Ah! well, they will see admirably behind the partition."
"Assuredly," said Morand.
"Only," said Geneviève, "we shall seem to be actuated by that cruel
curiosity which induces some persons to mock the misery of unfortunate
prisoners from the outside of an iron grating."
"Ah! then why not take your friends to the tower walk, since the
woman Capet will take an airing there to-day with her sister and her
daughter; for they have left her a daughter, while I who am not guilty,
have been deprived of mine. Oh, these aristocrats! it will always
be the case; let us do what we will, favor is always shown to them,
Citizen Maurice."
"But they have taken from her her son," replied he.
"Ah! if I had a son," murmured the female jailer, "I should lament my
daughter less."
Geneviève during this time had exchanged looks with Morand several
times.
"_Mon ami_," said the young woman to Maurice, "the citizen is in
the right. If you could by any means place me in the way of Marie
Antoinette, it would be less repugnant to my feelings than gazing at
her here. It seems to me that this manner of viewing people is at once
humiliating both to them and to us."
"Kind Geneviève," said Maurice, "you possess true delicacy of mind."
"Egad! Citizen," said one of Maurice's colleagues who was at that
moment breakfasting in the antechamber on bread and sausages, "if you
were the prisoner, and Capet's wife felt curiosity to see you, she
would not be so very particular about the indulgence of her fancy,--the
jade!"
Geneviève, with a movement quicker than lightning, threw a rapid glance
toward Morand, to note the effect of these words upon him. In effect,
Morand quivered, a strange phosphorescent light gleamed from under his
eyelids, and his hands were clinched for an instant; but all this was
so momentary that it passed unperceived.
"What is the name of this municipal?" asked she of Maurice.
"It is the Citizen Mercevault," replied the young man; and then added,
as if to apologize for his coarseness, "a stone-cutter."
Mercevault heard it, and cast a sidelong glance at Maurice.
"Come! come!" said the woman Tison; "finish your sausage and your
half-bottle, that I may clear the table."
"It is not the fault of the Austrian if I finish them now," grumbled
the municipal; "for if she could have murdered me on the 10th of August
she would have done so; thus the day when she 'sneezes in the sack' I
shall be in the first rank, firm at my post."
Morand turned as pale as death.
"Come! Citizen Maurice," said Geneviève, "let us go where you promised
to take us; here it seems as if I were a prisoner. I feel suffocated."
Maurice conducted Geneviève and Morand out, when the sentinels,
previously instructed by Lorin, allowed them to pass without any
difficulty. They installed themselves in a little passage on the upper
story, so that the moment when the queen, Madame Royale, or Madame
Elizabeth ascended to the gallery, these august personages could not do
otherwise than pass before them.
As the promenade was fixed for ten o'clock, and they had only a few
minutes to wait, Maurice not only did not quit his friends, but
further, in order that the slightest suspicion might not be excited
by this rather illegal proceeding, having met Agricola, he took that
municipal with him.
It struck ten.
"Open!" cried a voice from the base of the tower, which Maurice knew to
be that of General Santerre.
Immediately the guard assumed arms and closed the iron gratings; the
sentinels also presented arms. There was then heard in all the court a
confused noise of iron, stones, and footsteps, which vividly impressed
both Morand and Geneviève, for Maurice observed them both turn pale.
"All these precautions to guard three poor women," murmured Geneviève.
"Yes," said Morand, endeavoring to smile; "if those who tempt them
to escape were now here, and in our place saw what we see, it would
disgust them with their trade."
"In fact," continued Geneviève, "I begin to think they will never
escape."
"I hope they never will," said Maurice, inclining over the staircase as
he spoke.
"Attention," cried he; "here are the prisoners."
"Name them to me," said Geneviève, "for I do not know any of them."
"The first two who are ascending are the sister and daughter of Capet.
The last one, preceded by a little dog, is Marie Antoinette."
Geneviève made a step forward. Morand, on the contrary, instead of
looking at them, pressed himself close against the wall, his lips more
livid and earthy than the stones of the keep.
Geneviève, with her white robe and bright pure eyes, appeared like an
angel awaiting the prisoners to cheer them on their dark and dreary
road, and to administer in passing a ray of comfort to their desolate
and blighted hearts.
Madame Elizabeth and Madame Royale pursued their way, having only
thrown a glance of astonishment at the strangers. No doubt the former
imagined they were those whom the signals announced, for turning round
quickly to Madame Royale, she pressed her hand, and while so doing,
dropped her handkerchief, as if to inform the queen.
"Pay attention, my sister," said she; "I have dropped my handkerchief."
And she passed on with the young princess.
The queen, with panting breath accompanied with a short dry cough
indicating ill-health, stooped to pick up the handkerchief which had
fallen at her feet, when her little dog, more agile than its mistress,
seized it, and ran forward with it to Madame Elizabeth. The queen
continued her ascent slowly, and after some steps found herself in her
turn before Geneviève, Morand, and the young municipal.
"Flowers!" cried she; "oh, how long it is since I have seen any
flowers! How deliciously they smell! You are happy to possess these
flowers, Madame."
Quick as the idea formed in her mind, prompted by these melancholy
words, Geneviève extended her hand to offer her bouquet to the queen.
Then Marie Antoinette raised her head, looked at her, and an almost
imperceptible blush passed over her colorless face.
But by a natural movement, from an habitual passive obedience to
regulation, Maurice put out his hand to arrest the arm of Geneviève.
The queen then remained hesitating, when, looking at Maurice, she
recognized him as the young municipal who had always spoken to her with
so much firmness, but at the same time tempered with equal respect.
"Is this forbidden, sir?" said she.
"No, no, Madame. Geneviève, you can offer your bouquet," said Maurice.
"Oh, thanks, thanks, sir," said the queen, with grateful
acknowledgments; and bowing with gracious affability to Geneviève, the
queen extended her emaciated hand, and selected at random a single
carnation from the mass of flowers.
"Take them all, Madame, take them all," timidly said Geneviève.
"No," said the queen, with a fascinating smile; "this bouquet may come
perhaps from one you love. I will not deprive you of it."
Geneviève blushed, and at this blush the queen smiled.
"Move on! Citizen Capet," said Agricola, "you must continue your route."
The queen bowed, and ascended the steps, but before she disappeared,
turned around and murmured,--
"How sweet these carnations smell! and what a beautiful young lady!"
"She has not seen me," murmured Morand, who, almost kneeling in the
shade of the corridor, had quite escaped the notice of the queen.
"But you had a good view of her, had you not, Morand? Had not you,
Geneviève?" said Maurice, doubly happy, first from the sight he had
procured his friends, and also that he had afforded ever so slight a
gratification to the unhappy prisoner.
"Oh, yes, yes!" said Geneviève; "I saw her very well, and were I to
live for a thousand years, I should never forget her."
"And what do you think of her?"
"She is charming."
"And you, Morand."
Morand clasped his hands, but made no reply.
"Tell me," said Maurice, laughing, in a whisper to Geneviève, "is it
the queen of whom Morand is enamoured?"
Geneviève started, but recovering herself instantly, replied
smilingly,--
"It really looks like it."
"You have not yet told me what you think of her, Morand," persisted
Maurice.
"I thought her very pale," replied he.
Maurice retook the arm of Geneviève, to descend toward the court. In
the dark staircase it seemed to him that Geneviève kissed his hand.
"Ha! what does that mean, Geneviève?"
"It means, Maurice, that I shall never forget that to gratify a whim of
mine you have risked your life."
"Oh!" said Maurice, "what exaggeration, Geneviève! Between you and me,
you well know that gratitude is not the sentiment I wish to inspire you
with."
Geneviève pressed his arm softly.
Morand followed with faltering steps.
When they reached the court, Lorin came and identified the two
visitors, showing them to the gate.
Before leaving the Temple, Geneviève made Maurice promise to dine the
next day in the old Rue Saint Jacques.