THE PRESIDENT'S NOTE
As Tournay entered the doorway of 15 Rue des Mathurins an excited little
man brushed quickly past him, muttered an apology, and ran hurriedly up
the street. Under his arm he carried a handsome coat.
"I'll wager that's some thief who has been plying his trade upstairs,"
thought Tournay. "It was clumsy on my part to let him get by me. But I'm
too tired to run after him. He can wear his stolen finery for all me."
And he climbed up the stairs to the fourth landing.
"Welcome, my general!" cried Gaillard, rising up and throwing to one
side the theatrical costume into which he was neatly fitting a patch.
"Not general yet, my little Gaillard," was the reply, as the two friends
embraced warmly.
"How? Not a general yet?" exclaimed the actor. "Why, all the city is
ringing with news of the victory of Wissembourg and the hero of Landau!"
"That may be, my friend, but I have not received my promotion, and, what
is more, I am not expecting it. I shall be quite satisfied to have the
convention send me to the front again, where there is work to be done."
"Bah! Is the convention mad that it overlooks our bravest and best
officer?" exclaimed Gaillard in a tone of disgust.
"Wait until you have heard what I have to tell you, and then say whether
I shall not be fortunate if permitted to return to my command, even if
it be but one regiment."
"Danton is right," said Gaillard, when the colonel had finished his
account of the day's proceedings. "Undoubtedly there is something behind
all this; what it is, the future will show."
"In the mean time let us have something to eat," said Tournay; "I am as
hungry as a wolf. Is there any food in the house?"
"An unusual supply," was Gaillard's answer. "We will dine in your honor,
colonel, and though the convention has not seen fit to adorn your brow
with laurels, I will make some amends by pledging your health in a glass
of wine as good as any that can be found in Paris to-day."
"I shall be pleased to eat a dinner in any one's honor, for I have eaten
nothing since daylight, and it is now four o'clock."
"Sit down for one moment then, while I take a few last stitches in my
work here. I had expected to wear a new costume in the piece to-night,
'Le Mariage de Figaro,' but the tailor brought a garment that fitted
abominably, and to the insult of a grotesque fit he added the injury of
an exorbitant bill, so I refused the coat and dismissed him with an
admonition."
"I must have encountered your tailor as I came up," said Tournay. "He
was very pressed for time, and seemed to have taken your admonition much
to heart."
"Not exactly to heart," replied Gaillard, his mouth widening with a
grin, "for I emphasized my remarks rather forcibly with my shoe. I
kicked him down one flight of stairs, and he ran down the others."
"I am afraid your dramatic nature causes you to be rather precipitate at
times, Gaillard," remarked Colonel Tournay, smiling.
"On this occasion all the precipitation was on the part of the tailor,"
replied Gaillard. "Well, this old costume is mended; it will have to
serve me for a few nights. Now for dinner. Take your place at the table.
I shall sit at the head, and you, as the guest, shall occupy the place
at my right hand. You will excuse me for one moment, will you not, while
I serve the repast?" and before Tournay could answer Gaillard had left
the room.
Tournay seated himself at the table, and took from his pocket the letter
which had been placed in his hands on the street. It was addressed in a
large hand to "Citizen Colonel Robert Tournay." The writing was that of
a person who evidently wielded the pen but occasionally, and he could
not be sure whether it came from a man or woman. He broke the seal and
read:--
CITIZEN COLONEL,--Your attitude toward some of the members of
the Convention has made you a number of enemies. Do not take
the dismissal of the charges brought against you before the
committee as an evidence that these enemies are defeated; they
have merely resolved to change their tactics during your
present popularity. Had you been defeated at Wissembourg and
Landau, you would not now be at liberty. You may be sure these
men have your ultimate downfall in view. Distrust them all.
Tournay ran his eyes hastily over a list of a dozen names, among which
were Couthon, St. Just, and Collot-d'Herbois.
"Here it is, hot and succulent from the kitchen of Citizeness Ribot,"
called out Gaillard, appearing from an inner room with a steaming dish,
which he placed before him. "What have you got there?" he asked, blowing
on his fingers to cool them.
Tournay handed him the paper. "All of them either friends or tools of
Robespierre," was Gaillard's comment. "How did this come into your
hands?"
Tournay told him. His friend stepped to the fireplace.
"What are you going to do?" inquired Tournay.
"I make it a point never to keep anything with writing on it. It may be
a tradition of my profession, for on the stage trouble always lurks in
written documents. We must burn this."
"Do not be so hasty, Gaillard; you may burn it after I have committed
those names to memory."
"Then I will put it here on the chimney-piece for the present. Don't
carry it about you. It is a dangerous paper in times like these."
"Very well, I will be guided by your counsels. And just at this moment
you advise dining, do you not?" and Tournay turned to the dish on the
table. "It has a very agreeable odor. What is it?"
"The menu, to-day, consists of three courses; bread, salt, and,"--here
the actor removed the cover of the dish with a flourish--"rabbit
ragout."
"Will you assure me that the rabbit did not mew at the prospect of being
turned into a ragout?" inquired Tournay, holding out his plate while
Gaillard heaped it with the stew.
"You will have to ask the cook, my little war-god. When I delivered to
her the material in its natural state it consisted of two little gray
tailless animals with long ears; but to exonerate her, I call your
attention to the house-cat at this moment poking her nose in at the
door. And let me say further, that whether it be cat or rabbit you seem
to be able to dispose of a goodly quantity of it."
"My dear Gaillard, I am a soldier and can eat anything," was Tournay's
rejoinder.
"But cast not your eyes longingly upon the poor animal who has come in
attracted by the smell of dinner; she is my especial pet. Let me divert
your attention from her by pouring you a glass of wine."
"Gaillard, your dinner is most excellent; your pet shall be safe."
Gaillard filled two glasses with wine.
"Your very good health, Colonel Tournay, of the Army of the Moselle."
"Yours, my dear friend Gaillard."
The two friends rose and touched glasses over the little table.
"That wine is wonderful," said Tournay as he put down the glass. "What
do you mean by drinking such nectar? Do you live so near the top of the
house in order that you may spend your savings on your wine cellar?"
"That bottle is one of six presented to me by our neighbor, Citizen St.
Hilaire. He has been living modestly in the attic overhead, but he
evidently had a knowledge of good wine."
"Ah, Citizen St. Hilaire," repeated Tournay. "He is a man who should
well know good wine; but you said he has been living overhead. Is he not
there now?"
"Three days ago he disappeared. He left a note for the Citizeness Ribot
with the money due for rent, and stated that he should not return. His
action was explained next morning when a gendarme from the section made
his appearance and inquired for Citizen St. Hilaire. Since then his
chamber is watched night and day. I doubt if he returns."
"He is quite capable of keeping out of danger or getting into it, as the
fancy suits him, if he is the man I once knew," remarked Tournay.
Gaillard filled the glasses again. "Let us not talk about him in too
loud a tone," he said, "but quietly pledge him in his own Burgundy."
Tournay took the proffered glass. The gentle gurgle down two throats
told that St. Hilaire's health was drunk fervently if silently.
"With your permission I will propose a toast," said Tournay, as Gaillard
emptied the last of the bottle into their glasses. The actor nodded.
"To the French Republic," exclaimed Tournay. "May victory still perch
upon her banners."
"To the Republic," echoed Gaillard.
Again the glasses clinked over the small wooden table.
"As long as we have victory," continued Tournay, "what care we whether
we be colonels, generals, or soldiers of the line? Our victories are the
nation's. All are sharers in its glory."
"Long live the Republic!" they cried in concert, and set down their
empty wineglasses.
"Now I must fly to the theatre," exclaimed Gaillard; "you have made me
late with your republics"--
"And I must to bed," said Tournay. "This morning's dawn found me in the
saddle in order to reach the convention at an early hour."
"You have made a mistake, citizen sergeant," exclaimed Gaillard
suddenly, as an officer of gendarmerie appeared at the open door. "The
floor above is where you want to go."
"I want to see the Citizen Colonel Tournay," was the reply.
"I am he," said Tournay.
The sergeant awkwardly gave the military salute. "Here is a letter for
you, citizen colonel."
Tournay took the paper, and the sergeant turned toward the door.
"Is there any answer required?" asked Tournay, as he broke the seal.
"None through me. Good-night, citizen colonel." And the heavy jack-boots
were heard descending the stairs.
Gaillard began hurriedly to make a bundle of his theatrical costume,
while Tournay broke the seal and glanced over the contents of the
letter.
"Read this," he said, passing the paper to Gaillard, who stood by his
side, bundle under arm.
Gaillard read:--
To CITIZEN COLONEL ROBERT TOURNAY, Rue des Mathurins 15.
Will the patriotic citizen colonel call upon the humble and
none the less patriotic citizen, Maximilian Robespierre, this
evening at seven, to discuss affairs pertaining to the good of
the nation? If the Citizen Tournay can come, no answer need be
sent.
(Signed) MAXIMILIAN ROBESPIERRE.
17th Pluviose, Year II. of the French Republic, one and
indivisible.
"He evidently takes it for granted that I will come, for his messenger
waited for no answer," added Tournay.
"It's the sequel of this afternoon's inquiry," said Gaillard, as he
returned it, "and too exquisitely polite for a plain citizen. What are
you going to do?"
"I am going to see him, of course," replied Tournay. "It is the only way
to find out what he wants."
Gaillard nodded. "That's true; I almost feel like going with you and
remaining outside the door," and Gaillard placed his package on the
table.
"That is unnecessary, my friend; I never felt more secure in my life. Go
to your performance of Figaro and on your return you will find me here
in this easy-chair, smoking one of your pipes."
Gaillard took up his bundle again. "Very well, but mind, if I do not
find you seated in that arm-chair smoking a pipe I shall know you are in
trouble."
Tournay laughed. "You will find me there, never fear. And now let us go
out together."
"I am abominably late!" exclaimed Gaillard, as they parted at the
corner. "The director will have the pleasure of collecting a fine from
my weekly salary. Good-night--embrace me, my little war god! Au revoir,"
and the actor hurried down the street, whistling cheerfully.