SIMON THE CENSOR.
When Maurice returned to his post, in a state of transcendent
happiness, he found Tison's wife weeping.
"What have they done to you now, mother?" asked Maurice.
"All this makes me furious," replied the female jailer.
"Why?"
"Because there is nothing but injustice for poor people in this world."
"But how?"
"You are rich, you are a bourgeois, you come here only for a day, and
they permit pretty women to visit you here, who present bouquets to
the Austrian; while I who nestle everlastingly in this dove-cot am not
allowed to see my poor Sophie."
Maurice took her hand, and slipped into it a bill of ten francs.
"There, good woman, take that, and do not despair. Goodness! the
Austrian will not last forever."
"Ten francs," said the female jailer, "that is kind of you; but I would
rather have even a curl-paper from my poor girl's hair."
As she finished these words, Simon, who was then coming up, heard them,
and saw the female jailer put in her pocket the bill Maurice had given
her.
We will mention what sort of a temper Simon was in.
He came from the court where he had encountered Lorin. Now, a decided
antipathy existed between these two men.
This hatred was less induced by the violent scenes with which our
readers are already familiar than by difference of race, an everlasting
source of detestation, which, however mysterious it may at first
appear, is easily explained.
Simon was hideous, Lorin handsome; Simon was vulgar, Lorin the very
opposite; Simon was a Republican bully, Lorin one of those ardent
patriots who had sacrificed everything to the Revolution; and then, if
they had on a former occasion come to blows, Simon instinctively felt
that the fist of the fop, no less effectually than that of Maurice,
would have inflicted upon him a plebeian punishment.
Simon on perceiving Lorin, stopped short, and turned pale.
"It is still this battalion that mounts guard," growled he.
"Well," said a gendarme who overheard this apostrophe, "it is as good
as another, it seems to me."
Simon drew a pencil from his pocket, and pretended to note down
something on a piece of paper almost as black as his hands.
"Ah!" said Lorin, "you know how to write then, Simon, since you are
tutor to young Capet? Look, citizens, upon my honor he takes notes; he
is Simon the Censor."
A universal shout of laughter proceeded from the ranks of the young
National Guards, almost all men of education, at the ridiculous title
bestowed upon the wretched cobbler.
"Very well, very well," said he, grinding his teeth, and turning white
with rage; "they say you have permitted strangers to enter the keep,
and that without the consent of the Commune. Very well, I am going to
draw out the _procès-verbal_ by the municipal."
"He at least knows how to write," said Lorin; "it is Maurice, Maurice
with the Iron Hand; don't you know him?"
At this moment Morand and Geneviève went out.
On seeing this, Simon rushed into the keep, at the very moment, as we
have said, when Maurice, by way of consoling her, presented the woman
Tison with the bill of ten francs.
Maurice paid no attention to the presence of this miserable wretch,
whom by a natural instinct he always avoided if he by any chance
encountered him, regarding him in the light of a disgusting and
venomous reptile.
"Ah, well!" said Simon to Tison's wife, who was wiping her eyes with
her apron; "so you wish to bring yourself to the guillotine, Citizen?"
"I!" said the woman, "what put such a thought into your head?"
"Why, because you receive money from the municipal for allowing
aristocrats entrance to the Austrian."
"I!" said the woman Tison; "be silent, you are mad!"
"This shall be entered in the _procès-verbal_," said Simon,
emphatically.
"Come, now, they are friends of the Municipal Maurice, one of the best
patriots that ever existed."
"Conspirators, I tell you. Besides, the Commune shall be informed; it
will judge for itself."
"What! you mean to lodge information about me then, spy of the police!"
"Exactly so, if you do not lodge information yourself."
"Information about what? About what do you wish me to lodge
information?"
"About what has happened."
"But nothing has happened."
"Where were these aristocrats?"
"There, upon the staircase."
"When Capet's wife ascended the stairs?"
"Yes."
"And they spoke to her?"
"They exchanged two words."
"Two words! Besides, there is a perfume of the aristocrat here."
"It is the scent of carnations."
"Carnations! what carnations?"
"Why, the citizen had a bunch of them, which perfumed the whole place."
"What citizen?"
"The one who saw the queen pass."
"Oh, the thing is clear; you say _the queen_! Ma'am Tison; this
consorting with aristocrats will be your ruin! Ah, what is this I am
treading upon?" continued Simon, stooping down.
"Ah!" said the woman Tison, "it is a flower, a carnation; it must have
fallen from the hand of the Citizeness Dixmer, when Marie Antoinette
took one from her bouquet."
"The woman Capet took a flower from the Citizen Dixmer's bouquet?" said
Simon.
"Yes; and it was I who gave her the bouquet," said Maurice, in a loud
and menacing tone, who had been for some moments listening to this
colloquy, and whose patience was nearly exhausted.
"It is all very well, it is all very well; one sees what one sees, and
one knows what one says," growled Simon, who still held in his hand
the carnation crushed by his huge foot.
"And I also know one thing," replied Maurice, "which I am now going
to tell you; it is that you have nothing whatever to do in this keep,
and that your honorable post of hangman is down there with the little
Capet, whom I would, for your own sake, recommend you not to chastise
to-day, as I am here to defend him."
"Do you threaten me? Do you call me hangman?" cried Simon, crushing
the flower in his hand. "Ah! we shall see if it is permitted these
aristocrats--why, what is this?"
"What?" asked Maurice.
"That I feel in this carnation? Ah! ah!"
The eyes of Maurice were transfixed with astonishment as Simon drew
from the calyx of the flower a small paper, rolled with the most
exquisite care, which had been artistically introduced into the centre
of the clustering leaves.
"My God!" said Maurice, "what can this mean?"
"We shall know, we shall very soon know," said Simon, approaching the
window. "Ah! you and your friend Lorin told me I did not know how to
read. Well! you shall see."
Lorin had calumniated Simon; he could read all kinds of print, and
manuscript also when sufficiently large. But the writing in the little
billet was so minute that Simon was obliged to have recourse to his
spectacles. He consequently placed it on the window, while he proceeded
to take an inventory of the contents of his pockets; but while thus
engaged, the Citizen Agricola opened the door of the antechamber
exactly facing the little window, thereby causing a current of air
which blew away the little paper, light as a feather from a bird's
wing, so that when Simon, after a moment's exploration, had discovered
his spectacles, placed them on his nose, and turned himself round, his
labor was lost,--the paper had disappeared.
"There was a paper here," roared Simon, crimson with rage and
disappointment,--"there was a paper here. Look to yourself, Citizen
Municipal, for it must and shall be found."
And he descended precipitately, leaving Maurice in a state of
stupefaction.
Ten minutes afterward three members of the Commune entered the keep.
The queen was still upon the platform, and strict orders had been
issued that she should be kept in total ignorance of all that had just
occurred. The members of the Commune desired to be conducted to her
presence.
The first object which met their view was the crimson carnation, which
she still held in her hand. They regarded her with surprise, and
approaching her,--
"Give us this flower," said the president of the deputation. The queen,
who had not expected this intrusion, started and hesitated.
"Surrender your flower, Madame," said Maurice, in a sort of alarm, "I
entreat you."
The queen tendered them the carnation. The president took it and
retired, followed by his colleagues, into a neighboring apartment to
make an examination, and draw up the _procès-verbal_.
They opened the flower--it was empty.
Maurice breathed afresh.
"Wait a moment," said one of the members, "the heart of the carnation
has been removed. The calyx is empty, it is true, but in this calyx
most unquestionably a letter has been concealed."
"I am quite ready and willing," said Maurice, "to furnish all necessary
explanation; but first of all, I request to be arrested."
"We shall make a minute of your proposal, but shall not act upon it,"
said the president. "You are known as a stanch patriot, Citizen Lindey."
"And I will answer with my life for the friends I had the imprudence to
bring with me."
"Answer for no one," replied the procurator.
A tremendous hubbub was now heard in the court. It was Simon, who
having long and vainly sought for the little billet wafted away by the
wind, went to Santerre and informed him that an attempt had been made
to carry off the queen, with all the accessories which the powers of
his excited imagination could lend to such an event. Santerre was in
great haste; he investigated the Temple, and changed the guard, to the
great disgust of Lorin, who stoutly protested against this offence
offered to his battalion.
"Ah! vile cobbler," said he to Simon, menacing him with his sabre, "I
have you to thank for this pleasantry; but only wait a little, and I
will pay you back in your own coin."
"I think rather that the entire nation will pay you," said the
shoemaker, rubbing his hands.
"Citizen Maurice," said Santerre, "hold yourself at the disposal of the
Commune, who will examine you."
"I await your orders, Commandant; but I have already said that I desire
to be arrested, and I repeat my request."
"Wait, wait," murmured Simon, with a malicious smile; "since you are so
bent upon it, we shall try to settle that little matter for you," and
he went to find the woman Tison.