A BROKEN DOOR
"Open, in the name of the Republic."
No answer.
Crash! Crash! Blow followed blow upon the door of the old chateau.
"Again, citizens, once again! Brasseur! bring fagots, we'll fire the old
trap. Forgons, take this sledge-hammer in your big hands. At it,
man!--we'll soon have the lair of the aristocrats down about their ears.
Defour, Haillons, and you others, take up that ash-tree and let it
strike in the same place as before."
Amid a pandemonium of shouts and curses the blows continued to rain upon
the iron-studded outer door of the chateau de Rochefort, and the tree,
used as a battering-ram, poised upon the shoulders of a dozen men, was
dashed forward with a force that made the hinge-bolts start from their
sockets and the oaken panels fill the air with splinters.
The besieged had taken refuge in one of the large salons on the second
floor. There were only four of them: an old man, a priest, and two
women.
"They have nearly forced the outer door," cried old Matthieu Tournay,
wiping the perspiration from his brow with trembling hand.
"But the inner one," exclaimed the priest, laying his hand on Matthieu's
arm. "How long will that keep them off?"
"They'll break through that easily. Nothing can save us now; we are all
lost," replied the old man.
"May the Blessed Virgin preserve us from the monsters," murmured the
priest, looking towards the woman.
Edme de Rochefort stood near the window. The terrifying sounds which
echoed through the lower part of the building would have unnerved her,
had not anger supplied a sustaining force, and brought a deep flush to
supplant the pallor on her cheeks. The spirit of her race was roused
within her. Had she been a man she would have charged alone, sword in
hand, against the mob; but being only a woman she stood waiting the
issue. Trembling slightly, she stood with her small hands clenched and
white teeth firmly set. At her elbow was Agatha, her maid. She was paler
than her mistress, but it was not for herself she feared. Her devotion
made her fear more for Edme's safety than for her own.
As the shouts redoubled Edme saw the two old men turn, pallid and
trembling, towards her.
"They seek me only," she said resolutely. "Why should I endanger your
lives by remaining here? I will go to meet them!"
"You shall not go!" cried Agatha, placing herself in front of her
mistress.
"It can only be a question of a few minutes at the longest. Let me go,
Agatha."
"Listen," cried the priest, "they are in the house! They are coming up
the stairway now!"
"No," cried old Matthieu, "I can still hear them down there in the
courtyard."
Nevertheless a quick footstep was heard approaching from the corridor.
The portieres at the further end of the room were thrown apart, and a
man, wearing the uniform of the Republican army, entered the salon.
"Robert!" came in a glad cry from old Tournay's lips.
Tournay did not wait to exchange words with his father, but approached
Edme.
"I have ridden from Paris to prevent your arrest, mademoiselle; thank
God I have arrived in time. Only do as I direct and I shall be able to
save you."
"How are we to know that we can trust you?" she said, looking at him
fixedly.
He caught his breath as if unprepared for such a question. "You _must_
trust me, mademoiselle."
Edme laughed scornfully.
The color which rose to his cheek showed that her laugh cut even deeper
than her words.
"Mademoiselle," he began, "if you"--
She interrupted him passionately. "Are not those men below who seek to
destroy my chateau your friends? They have been clamoring for admittance
in the name of the Republic." And she looked significantly at the
tricolored cockade in his hat.
"And because I am a Republican and wear the uniform of the nation do
you really think that I could have anything in common with those
ruffians? You do me great injustice; I am here with one object, to
protect this household."
Edme continued to look steadily at him.
"You say nothing, mademoiselle. You condemn me by your silence. I will
prove to you how deeply you wrong me even if it take my life. I would
give that gladly only to prove it to you. But there is more than my life
at stake. There is your safety--and the safety of these, your servants.
My father--mademoiselle!"
Edme's look softened a little as she answered:--
"Although since you left our house we have only thought of you as an
enemy, still I believe your father's son would be incapable of
treachery. As for saving us, listen to the mob below. One man is
helpless against so many."
"I can save you--but it depends upon yourself. No matter what I may say
or do, you must trust me implicitly."
"Oh! do as my son says, mademoiselle!" interposed old Matthieu, joining
his hands beseechingly. "For your sake, for all our sakes, listen to and
be guided by him."
"If you can really protect us in this dreadful hour I should be guilty
if I risked the lives of those who have faithfully remained at my side,
by refusing your aid. I will follow your father's and your counsel,"
said Edme quietly.
"Is the door of the salon barred?" asked Tournay of his father.
"With such slight fastenings as we have," answered the old man.
"See that it is fast," said Tournay. "It will give us a few minutes.
Then listen to me."
There was a crash--louder than any that had yet been heard, and the mob
poured into the lower part of the chateau.
Here they paused for a moment to recover breath and wipe the
perspiration from their brows. Then some of the party began again their
work of destruction among the pieces of furniture, while others brought
up wine from the cellar to refresh themselves and their thirsty
companions.
Gardin, anxious only to make the arrest, stormed at this slight delay.
"Cannot you leave your wine until your work is done, citizens?" he
called out impatiently. "The aristocrat is above stairs--follow me!"
Through the large hall of the chateau and up the broad staircase, on the
heels of their leader, swarmed the mob, yelling and cursing.
Gardin and Forgons, like bloodhounds who scent their prey, made direct
for the door of the great salon, where the little party awaited them.
Gardin shook the door violently, then threw himself against it to force
an entrance.
"Here, citizen, we have already proven that two pair of shoulders are
better than one at that game," laughed Forgons, adding his strength to
that of Gardin. Under their combined weight the door yielded with a
suddenness that precipitated both men into the room,--Gardin on his
hands and face while Forgons fell over him,--and the two rolled
together in the middle of the floor. Amid a shout of rough laughter from
the men in the rear the two leaders regained their feet.
The scowl on Gardin's face vanished in a look of astonishment when he
found himself face to face with a man in the uniform of a colonel of the
French army.
Matthieu and the old priest had retreated to the corner of the room at
their entrance. Beside the chimney-piece stood Edme de Rochefort. The
sight of the frenzied mob, the knowledge that it was her arrest alone
they sought; the shrinking dread which the thought of their rude touch
inspired, made her heart sink with sickening terror. Yet beyond
trembling slightly, she gave no sign of fear.
Gardin had expected to find a frightened girl, surrounded possibly by a
few servants who remained faithful. The sight of Tournay's tall figure,
his resolute face, above all his uniform, standing between him and the
object of his search, made him hesitate.
"There she is! That's the aristocrat!" exclaimed Forgons, as Gardin
hesitated. "Let me get my hands upon her." He rushed forward, but before
he could touch Edme, Tournay pushed him backward with a force that sent
him reeling into the group of men behind.
"A thousand devils," cried Forgons, when he regained his equilibrium,
"what is the meaning of this, citizen colonel? Are you defending the
little aristocrat?"
"Keep back, will you, Forgons," interposed Gardin, fearing that his
dignity as leader would be usurped. "Leave me to manage this affair. I
am here," he said, addressing Colonel Tournay, "to apprehend the person
of an aristocrat, and shall brook no interference on the part of any
one."
"Let me look at your warrant," demanded Tournay, in a tone of authority.
"I am not obliged to show that to you," replied Gardin doggedly.
"Let me see it, I say!" was the determined rejoinder.
Gardin slowly drew a document from the breast of his coat and handed it
over with a sullen "Well, there's no harm in your seeing it."
Tournay read it carefully. Then folding it up with great deliberation he
returned it.
"It seems quite regular."
"Regular," repeated Gardin, with a laugh,--"well, I like that. Of course
it's quite regular,--signed and stamped by the Committee of Public
Safety." Then with a show of mock politeness: "Now if the citizen colonel
will condescend to step aside I will conduct this young citizeness from
the room."
"That order of arrest calls for a certain citizeness de Rochefort, does
it not?" asked Tournay, without moving.
"Certainly it does. The Citizeness Edme de Rochefort who stands there,
right behind you."
"You will not find her here," replied Tournay.
"None of your jests with me, citizen colonel; why, as I said before,
she's standing behind you. I should know her for an aristocrat by the
proud look on her face if I had not seen her a hundred times here in La
Thierry."
"This is not Citizeness de Rochefort."
"That's a lie," replied Gardin bluntly, "and in any case she is the
woman I am going to arrest."
"That woman is Citizeness Tournay, my wife. You cannot arrest her on
that warrant, Citizen Gardin."
As the colonel spoke these words, which he did slowly and deliberately,
Mademoiselle de Rochefort drew a quick, short breath.
"It is a trick," cried Gardin savagely; "you are trying to save her by a
subterfuge."
Tournay repeated coolly, "She is my wife, and I am Robert Tournay,
colonel in the Army of the Moselle. Again I advise you not to try to
arrest her without a warrant."
"And I say again it is a lying trick," cried Gardin, beside himself with
rage. "You cannot save your aristocratic sweetheart this way, citizen
colonel. The Republic demands her arrest and I mean to take her."
"Citizen Ambrose," said Tournay, turning to the priest, "is not this
woman my wife?"
"Most certainly," said the old priest, coming forward with dignity;
"this lady is Madame Robert Tournay."
"Madame!" cried Gardin, repeating the word in a rage. "There are no
ladies in France now, and all priests are liars. This is a trick, and
you, citizen colonel, shall answer for it. Out of my way!" He grasped
Tournay by the lapel of his coat, and twisting his fingers into the
cloth endeavored to force the colonel to one side. There was a sharp
struggle, then Tournay threw him off with such violence as to send him
staggering across the room. His head struck the sharp edge of a mahogany
cabinet as he reeled backward, and he rolled senseless to the floor.
With a shout of rage at the assault upon their leader the mob rushed
forward to close about Tournay. But he was too quick for them; the
muzzles of a pair of pistols met them as they advanced, one covering
Forgons, who was in front, the other leveled at the men behind him.
The mob cowered and fell back a little. Clubs, hammers, and knives were
their only weapons, which they still brandished threateningly. If
Tournay had shown the least sign of flinching he would have fallen the
next moment, beaten and crushed to death. He advanced a step forward.
Before the threatening muzzles of the steadily-aimed pistols, the men
recoiled still further, and were quiet for a moment. Tournay seized the
opportunity to speak.
"This fellow," he cried in a loud voice, pointing to Gardin, "has dared
to lay hands upon an officer of the Republican army. In doing so he has
insulted the nation and deserves death. Is there any man here who would
repeat this insult?"
The mob, taken by surprise, looked at their fallen leader and then at
the two shining pistol-barrels that confronted them, and remained
irresolute. Tournay thought he heard Edme catch her breath quickly when
the answer from the mob drowned everything.
"No, no! There are none here who would insult the nation!"
"Citizens, I am of the people, like yourselves. I am also a soldier of
France. I have fought its battles, I wear its colors. See!" he went on,
taking off his hat and pointing to the tricolor cockade--"here is the
tricolor. If you do not respect that, you insult the Republic. Is there
any one here who would dare to insult the Republic?"
"No, no!" came in quick response. "Long live the Republic!"
"But all who wear the tricolor are not our friends," muttered Forgons
uneasily.
"Citizens," continued Tournay, affecting not to hear, "Gardin has no
warrant to arrest this woman, who is not an aristocrat, since she has
become my wife, the Citizeness Tournay. As for Gardin, he has insulted
the Republic. He has forfeited the right to lead you. In the name of the
Republic I appoint you, Forgons, the secretary of this section. To-night
I return to Paris and will see that the confirmation of your appointment
is sent you at once. Now, citizens, take up this fellow," he said,
pointing to Gardin. "He shows signs of returning consciousness. A little
cold water pumped over his head will bring him back to life. Come,
follow me, I will be your leader for the present."
The mob took up the body and bore it off, cheering loudly for the
Republic. Forgons went with them slowly, shaking his head, with a
puzzled expression on his face.