THE VISIT TO THE DOMICILE.
Lorin and Maurice returned to their home; but the latter, in order not
to compromise his friend too openly, usually absented himself during
the day, and returned at night.
In the midst of these events, being present at the removal of the
prisoners to the Conciergerie, he watched daily for the sight
of Geneviève, not having been yet able to discover her place of
imprisonment. Lorin, since his visit to Fouquier Tinville, had
succeeded in convincing Maurice that on the first ostensible act he was
lost, and would then have sacrificed himself without having benefited
Geneviève; and Maurice, who would willingly have thrown himself into
prison in the hope of being united to his mistress, became prudent from
the fear of being separated from her forever.
He went every morning from the Carmelites to Port Libre, from the
Madelonnettes to Saint Lazare, from La Force to the Luxembourg; he
stationed himself before the prisons to watch the cars as they came out
to convey the accused to the Revolutionary Tribunal. Then when he had
scanned the victims, he proceeded to the other prisons to prosecute
this hopeless search, for he soon became aware that the activity of ten
men would prove inadequate to keep watch over the thirty-three prisons
which Paris could boast of at this period. He therefore contented
himself by going daily to the Tribunal, there to await the appearance
of Geneviève.
He was already beginning to despair. Indeed, what hope was there for a
person arrested and condemned? Sometimes the Tribunal, whose sittings
commenced at ten o'clock, had condemned twenty or thirty people by four
o'clock: those first condemned had six hours to live, but the last,
sentenced at a quarter to four, fell at half-past beneath the axe. To
resign himself to such a fate for Geneviève, would be to grow weary in
his battle against destiny.
Oh, if he had known beforehand of the imprisonment of Geneviève, how
Maurice would have baffled the blind, human justice of this epoch; how
easily and promptly would he have torn Geneviève from prison! Never
were escapes more easy; and it may be said, never were they so rare.
All the nobles, once placed in prison, installed themselves there as
in a château, and died at leisure. To fly was like evading a duel; the
women even blushed at liberty acquired at this price.
But Maurice would not have shown himself so scrupulous. To kill the
dogs, to bribe a door-keeper, what more simple? Geneviève was not one
of those splendid names calculated to attract general attention. She
would not dishonor herself by flying, and besides--when could she be
disgraced!
Oh, how bitterly he thought of the gardens of Port Libre, so easy
to scale; the chambers of Madelonnettes, so easy of access to the
street; the low walls of the Luxembourg, and the dark corridors of the
Carmelites, where a resolute man could so easily penetrate by opening a
window.
But was Geneviève in one of these prisons?
Then, devoured by doubt, and worn out with anxiety, he loaded Dixmer
with imprecations; he threatened, and nourished his hatred against
this man, whose cowardly vengeance concealed itself under an apparent
devotion to the royal cause.
"I shall find him out too," thought Maurice; "for if he wishes to save
the unhappy woman, he will show himself; if he wishes to ruin her, he
will insult her. I shall find him out, the scoundrel! and it will be an
evil day for him!"
On the morning of the day when the events occurred which we are about
to relate, Maurice went out early to take his usual station at the
Revolutionary Tribunal, leaving Lorin asleep.
Lorin was suddenly awakened by a loud noise at the door, the voices
of women and the butt-ends of guns. He threw around him the startled
glance of a surprised man who wished to convince himself that nothing
that could compromise him was in view. Four sectionaries, two
gendarmes, and a commissary entered at the same moment. This visit was
sufficiently significant, and Lorin hastened to dress himself.
"Do you come to arrest me?" said he.
"Yes, Citizen Lorin."
"What for?"
"Because you are suspected."
"Ah, all right!"
The commissary scribbled some words at the bottom of the warrant for
arrest.
"Where is your friend?" he inquired.
"What friend?"
"The Citizen Maurice Lindey."
"At home, probably."
"No; he lodges here."
"He! go along! Search, and if you find--"
"Here is the denunciation," interrupted the commissary, "it is plain
enough;" offering Lorin a paper in vile writing and enigmatical
orthography. It stated that every morning the Citizen Lindey, suspected
and ordered for arrest, was seen going out of the Citizen Lorin's
house. The denunciation was signed "Simon."
"Why," said Lorin, "the cobbler will lose his custom if he follows two
trades at the same time,--a spy and boot-mender. He is a Cæsar, this
Monsieur Simon," and he burst into a fit of laughter.
"The Citizen Maurice, where is he?" asked the commissary. "We summon
you to deliver him up."
"When I tell you he is not here!"
The commissary passed into the chamber adjoining, then ascended to
the loft where Lorin's official slept, and at last opened a lower
apartment, but found no trace of Maurice. But upon the dining-room
table a recently written letter attracted the attention of the
commissary. It was from Maurice, who had deposited it there on leaving
in the morning without awakening his friend.
"I go to the Tribunal," said Maurice; "take breakfast without me. I
shall not return till night."
"Citizens," said Lorin, "however anxious I may feel to obey your
commands, I cannot follow you undressed. Allow my official to assist
me."
"Aristocrat," said a voice, "do you require assistance to put on your
breeches?"
"Oh, goodness! yes," said Lorin; "I resemble the Citizen
Dagobert,--mind, I did not say king."
"Well, dress," said the commissary; "but make haste!"
The official came down to help his master to dress. However, it was not
exactly that Lorin required a _valet-de-chambre_; it was that nothing
might escape the notice of the official, and that consequently he might
detail everything to Maurice.
"Now, gentlemen,--pardon, Citizens. Now, Citizens, I am ready, and will
follow you; but permit me, I beg, to carry with me the last volume of
'Lettres à Émilie,' by Monsieur Demoustier, which has just appeared,
and I have not read. It will enliven the hours of my captivity."
"Your captivity?" said Simon, sharply, now become municipal in his
turn, and entering, followed by four sectionaries, "that will not last
long. You figure in the trial of the woman who wanted to assist the
Austrian to escape. They try her to-day; and to-morrow, when you have
given your testimony, your turn will come."
"Cobbler," said Lorin, "you stitch your soles too quickly."
"Yes; but what a nice stroke from the leather-cutting knife!" replied
Simon; "you will see, you will see, my fine grenadier!"
Lorin shrugged his shoulders.
"Well," said he, "let us go; I am waiting for you."
As each one turned round to descend the staircase Lorin bestowed on the
municipal Simon so vigorous a kick that he sent him rolling and howling
down the entire flight of stairs. The sectionaries could not restrain
their laughter. Lorin put his hands in his pockets.
"In the exercise of my functions!" cried Simon, livid with rage.
"Zounds!" said Lorin, "are we not all here in the exercise of our
functions?"
He got into the carriage, and was conducted by the commissary to the
Palais de Justice.