THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON-ROUGE.
Maurice hastened to return to the section to enter a complaint against
Simon. It is true that before quitting Maurice, Lorin had found a more
expeditious way; this was to collect some Thermopyles to lie in wait
for him, and on his first exit from the Temple to kill him in a pitched
battle. But Maurice strenuously opposed this plan.
"You are ruined," said he, "if you make use of these means. Crush
Simon, but do it legally. That ought to be an easy thing enough to the
lawyers."
Consequently, the next morning, Maurice laid a formal complaint before
the section, but was both astonished and annoyed when the president
turned a deaf ear, excusing himself by saying he could not interfere
between two good citizens, each incited by the love of country.
"Good," said Maurice. "I know now how to act to merit the reputation of
a good citizen. To assemble the people in order to assassinate a man
who displeases you: this you call being 'incited by love of country.'
Well, I agree to Lorin's opinion, which I was wrong to dispute.
After to-day, as you hear, I shall adopt patriotism, and shall first
experiment upon Simon."
"Citizen Maurice," replied the president, "you are, after all, perhaps
more to blame in this affair than Simon. He discovered a conspiracy,
which it was not his province to do. You saw nothing, although
the discovery formed part of your duty; and more, you have held
communication--accidentally or intentionally, we know not which--with
the enemies of the nation."
"I?" said Maurice. "Well, this is something new. And with whom, pray,
Citizen President?"
"With the Citizen Maison-Rouge."
"I?" said Maurice, stupefied. "I had communication with the Chevalier
de Maison-Rouge? I do not know him--I never--"
"You have been seen speaking to him."
"I?"
"Shaking his hand."
"I?"
"Yes."
"Where? When, Citizen President?" said Maurice, carried away by the
firm conviction of his own innocence. "You have lied!"
"Your zeal for your country carries you too far, Citizen Maurice;" said
the president, "and you will regret what you have said, when I tell you
I can prove that I have advanced nothing but the truth. Here are three
different reports accusing you."
"Now," said Maurice, "do you really think me simple enough to believe
in your 'Chevalier de Maison-Rouge'?"
"And why should you not believe it?"
"Because it is only the ghost of a conspirator, with whom you always
have a conspiracy ready to amuse your enemies."
"Read the denunciations."
"I will read nothing," said Maurice. "I protest I have never seen the
Chevalier,--never spoken to him. Let any one who doubts my word of
honor come and tell me so. I shall know how to answer him."
The president shrugged his shoulders. Maurice, who did not wish to
be in arrears with any one, did the same. An air of gloomy silence
pervaded the remainder of the sitting. After the meeting was concluded,
the president, a stanch patriot raised to the highest rank in the
district by the votes of his fellow-citizens, approached Maurice, and
said,--
"Come, Maurice, I want to speak to you."
Maurice followed the president, who conducted him into a little cabinet
adjoining that where the sittings were held. On arriving there, he
regarded Maurice for a moment in silence; then placing his hand on his
shoulder,--
"Maurice," said he, "I knew and esteemed your father; this makes me
esteem and love you. Believe me, you incur great danger from want of
faith,--the first falling off of a truly revolutionary spirit. Maurice,
my friend, they who lose their faith also lose their fidelity. You
do not believe in the enemies of the nation, therefore you pass near
without seeing them, and become an instrument in their plots without
being aware of it."
"What, the devil!" said Maurice, "I know, Citizen, I am a man of
feeling, and possess some share of patriotic zeal; but my zeal does
not render me a fanatic. There are twenty pretended conspiracies, to
which the public assign the same name. I demand once for all to face my
accuser."
"You will not believe in conspirators, Maurice," said the president;
"then tell me, do you believe in the red carnation for which Héloïse
Tison was yesterday guillotined?"
Maurice started.
"Do you believe in the subterranean passage drilled under the Temple
garden communicating through the cellar of Citizen Plumeau with a
certain house in the Rue de la Corderie?"
"No," said Maurice.
"Then do as Thomas the Apostle did,--go and see."
"I am not on guard at the Temple, and they would not allow me to enter."
"Any one may enter the Temple now."
"How is that?"
"Read this report, since you are so incredulous. I shall only proceed
by official information."
"Ah!" said Maurice, reading the report, "has it come to this?"
"Continue."
"Are they going to remove Marie Antoinette to the Conciergerie?"
"They are; and do you think that from a dream, or what you call an
imaginary idea or an idle story, the Committee of Public Safety would
have adopted so grave a measure?"
"This measure has been adopted; but will never be executed, like many
more I have seen sanctioned and all--"
"Read to the end," said the president, and he presented him with the
last paper.
"The receipt of Richard, the jailer of the Conciergerie!" cried Maurice.
"She has been there these two hours." This time Maurice remained deep
in thought.
"The Commune, as you know," continued the president, "acts with
profound judgment. It is digging a furrow long and straight in its
course; its measures are not puerile, and it has put in execution the
principle of Cromwell,--'Kings should be struck on the head.' Read this
secret note from the minister of police."
Maurice read,--
"Seeing that we possess the certainty that the _ci-devant_ Chevalier
de Maison-Rouge is in Paris; that he has been seen in several places;
that he has left traces of his appearance in various plots, happily
frustrated,--I request all chiefs of sections to redouble their
vigilance--"
"Well?" asked the president.
"I must believe you, Citizen President," said Maurice, and he
continued,--
"Description of the Chevalier de Maison-Rouge: In height, five feet
three inches; fair hair, blue eyes, straight nose, chestnut-colored
beard, dimpled chin, soft voice, and hands like a female's."
At this description a strange light burst upon Maurice; he thought
of the young man who commanded the troop of Muscadins, and who on
the preceding evening saved the lives of himself and Lorin, and so
valiantly drew his sword upon the Marseillais in their defence.
"The deuce!" muttered Maurice, "it must be he; in that case the
accusation that I have been seen speaking to him is not false. But I
cannot remember taking his hand."
"Maurice," asked the president, "what do you say to all this, now, my
friend?"
"That I believe what you have said," said Maurice, musing sadly, who
for some time past, without understanding what evil influence saddened
his life, had noticed everything darkening around him.
"Do not trifle thus with popularity," said the president. "In these
days, Maurice, popularity is life. As for unpopularity, it is to be
suspected of treason; and the Citizen Maurice Lindey ought not to brook
the suspicion of being a traitor."
Maurice had nothing to reply to sentiments so much in accordance with
his own. He thanked his old friend and left the section.
"Ah!" murmured he, "there is too much suspicion and battling. Now,"
drawing a deep breath,--"now for peace, innocence, and joy; now to
Geneviève," and Maurice took the road to the old Rue Saint Jacques.
When he reached the abode of the master-tanner, Dixmer and Morand
were supporting Geneviève, who was suffering from a violent attack of
hysterics. Thus, instead of being allowed to enter unceremoniously as
he was accustomed to do, a servant met him in the passage.
"Announce me, at all events," said he, "and if Dixmer cannot
conveniently receive me, I will retire."
The domestic entered the little pavilion, while Maurice remained in
the garden. It seemed to him that something strange was going on in
the house, and the workmen, instead of being occupied in their usual
employment, were pacing restlessly about the garden. At length Dixmer
himself appeared.
"Come in, dear Maurice," said he,--"come in; you are not one of those
against whom the door is closed."
"What is the matter?" inquired the young man.
"Geneviève is ill," said Dixmer; "indeed, more than ill,--she is
delirious."
"Gracious Heaven!" cried the young man, overcome at again encountering
trial and suffering; "what, then, is the matter with her?"
"You are aware, my friend," said Dixmer, "one never knows anything
concerning the illness of women, especially their husbands."
Geneviève was lying on a lounge; near her stood Morand, offering her
some salts, which she smelled occasionally.
"Well?" asked Dixmer.
"Always the same thing," replied Morand.
"Héloïse? Héloïse?" murmured the young woman, from between her closed
teeth and white lips.
"Sophie!" repeated Maurice, in much surprise.
"Oh, my God! yes," replied Dixmer, greatly affected; "Geneviève most
unfortunately saw the cart pass yesterday conveying the unhappy girl to
the scaffold. Since then she has had five or six attacks of hysterics,
and keeps on continually calling upon Sophie."
"But the most astonishing thing of all is, that in her she recognized
the girl who sold the carnations, which you already know about," said
Morand.
"Certainly, I know about them," said Maurice, "since in consequence of
them I very narrowly escaped having my head cut off."
"Ah! we have heard all that, dear Maurice, and, believe me, we have not
been slightly alarmed; but Morand was at the sitting, and saw you fully
acquitted and liberated."
"Silence!" said Maurice; "she again speaks."
"Oh, those empty, unintelligible words!" exclaimed Dixmer.
"Maurice," murmured Geneviève; "they are going to kill Maurice. Rescue
him, Chevalier,--rescue him!" A profound silence followed these words.
"Maison-Rouge," again murmured Geneviève; "Maison-Rouge!"
Maurice felt a slight suspicion, but he could make out nothing clearly,
and was too much affected by the suffering of Geneviève to attend much
to her words.
"Have you called in a physician?" demanded Maurice.
"Oh, it will prove nothing," said Dixmer; "a momentary delirium, that
is all," and he shook his wife so violently by the arm that she
revived, and uttering a shrill cry, opened her eyes, which till now had
remained closed.
"Ah, you are both here, and Maurice with you. Oh, I am so glad to
see you, dear friend; if you knew what I have--" she corrected
herself--"what we have suffered for the last two days."
"Yes, we are all here," said Maurice; "have no more terror on that
account. But there is one name above all others you must not accustom
yourself to pronounce, seeing that at this moment it does not bear a
very high repute."
"What name?" quickly demanded Geneviève.
"The Chevalier de Maison-Rouge."
"Have I named the Chevalier de Maison-Rouge?" inquired Geneviève,
bewildered.
"Without doubt you have," said Dixmer, with a forced laugh; "but
understand, Maurice, there is nothing surprising in that, since it is
said he was an accomplice with the girl Tison, and that it was he who
concocted the whole plan of escape so happily frustrated yesterday."
"I do not say there is anything surprising in it," said Maurice; "I
only say he should keep himself well concealed."
"Who?" demanded Dixmer.
"Zounds! The Chevalier de Maison-Rouge. The Commune seeks for him; and
their bloodhounds have a fine scent."
"Provided that, before they arrest him," said Morand, "he has not
accomplished some new enterprise that may succeed better than the last."
"At all events," said Maurice, "it will not be in favor of the queen."
"Why not?" demanded Morand.
"Because she is henceforth shielded from his bold attempts."
"Where is she then?" inquired Dixmer.
"At the Conciergerie," replied Maurice; "she was taken there this
evening."
Dixmer, Geneviève, and Morand uttered a cry which Maurice mistook for
one of surprise.
"Thus you see," continued he, "adieu to the Chevalier's plans for the
queen. The Conciergerie is more secure than the Temple."
Morand and Dixmer exchanged looks unperceived by Maurice.
"Ah!" exclaimed Maurice, "Madame Dixmer has turned faint again."
"Geneviève!" said Dixmer, "you must go to bed, my child; you suffer."
Maurice took the hint. He respectfully kissed Geneviève's hand, and
quitted the house. Morand left with him, and accompanied him as far as
the old Rue Saint Jacques, where he parted with him to exchange some
words with a man, a superior sort of domestic, who held a horse ready
saddled and bridled. Maurice was so much occupied with his own thoughts
that he did not even ask the man's name; indeed, he and Morand had not
exchanged a word since they quitted the house together.
Maurice took the road to Rue des Fossés Saint Victor, and gained the
quay.
"It is strange," said he, walking on. "Is my mind weakened, or are
these events assuming undue importance? Everything appears to me as
if viewed through a magnifying glass." And to recover his equanimity,
Maurice leaned over the parapet of the bridge and presented his face to
the breeze.