UNCLE MICHELET
One April day a wave of excitement swept through the entire prison. It
was repeated in every cell and whispered in every ear.
"The lion has been taken in the mesh! The great Danton is a prisoner in
the Luxembourg!"
At first Tournay could not believe the report. It seemed as if those
giant arms need but to be extended to break the bonds that held them,
and allow their owner to walk out into the air a free man.
Yet it was indeed true, and one day, for a few moments only, Tournay had
an opportunity to see and converse with the fallen chieftain as he stood
in the door of his cell, talking in a loud voice to all who were near
enough to hear him.
As Danton saw Colonel Tournay he ceased speaking and held out his hand.
In his eyes there was a peculiar look which the latter understood.
"You see, it has come at last even to me," said Danton quietly.
"Ah, why did you not crush the snake before it entwined you with its
coils?" asked Tournay sadly.
"I did not think he would dare do it," replied Danton. "Robespierre is
rushing to his ruin. What will they do without me? They are all mad."
"You should have distrusted their madness, even if you did not fear it,"
was the rejoinder.
"The end is near," answered Danton. "It is fate. Yet if I could leave my
brains to Robespierre and my legs to Couthon, the Revolution might still
limp along for a short time," and he laughed roughly. "Good-by,
Tournay," he said in a tone of kindliness. "You are a brave man and a
true Republican; such men as you might have saved the Republic, but it
was not to be." He entered his cell, and Tournay never saw him again.
The next day Danton was taken to the conciergerie and to his trial, and
the day following to the guillotine. The lion head was parted from the
giant trunk, and the Revolution swept on.
The weeks dragged on monotonously to Colonel Tournay and St. Hilaire in
the Luxembourg. The trees in the gardens beyond their prison walls had
put forth their leaves, and the song of birds was borne sometimes even
into the recesses of their cell.
"Why are we left to rot here in this stifling place?" exclaimed Colonel
Tournay for the thousandth time. "Why are we not even called for trial?
Has Robespierre forgotten our existence?"
"Let us hope that he has," rejoined St. Hilaire. "As long as we are
overlooked we shall get into no worse trouble. We are not so very
uncomfortable here," and St. Hilaire sprang upon the table to put his
nose out between the window bars, like a fox in a cage, to get what air
there was stirring and to look at the little patch of blue sky.
Tournay smiled sadly. He envied St. Hilaire his cheerfulness and
adaptability, while he felt his own spirit breaking under the long
confinement.
He sat down upon the edge of the bed and wondered what had happened in
the world since he had been cut off from it. His thoughts were
frequently of Gaillard, and he wished he could learn something about his
friend. As he was sitting thus, oppressed by the warmth of a June
afternoon, the turnkey entered the cell.
"There is an old man come to see you," he said, addressing Tournay.
"Your uncle from the provinces, I believe. You may see him outside here
in the corridor."
"I wonder who this visitor may be," thought Tournay as he followed the
turnkey. "Had I not received word of my poor father's death two months
ago I should expect to find him."
An old man stood leaning on his cane at the end of the corridor. He
seemed quite feeble, and the jailer, moved to compassion by his
infirmity, placed a stool for him to sit upon.
"My nephew!" exclaimed the old man in tremulous accents as Tournay made
his appearance.
Apparently the old man had made some mistake. To Colonel Tournay's eyes
he was an entire stranger; but being aware that the slightest suspicion
aroused in the mind of the prison authorities sometimes led to very
serious consequences, he determined to wait until the turnkey was out of
hearing before undeceiving the mild-eyed old gentleman.
"My uncle," he answered, taking the venerable citizen by the
outstretched hand, "how did your old legs manage to"--
The septuagenarian squeezed the colonel's hand until the fingers
cracked.
"My old legs would have brought me here long before," said the voice of
Gaillard in guarded tones, "but it took me two weeks to get this
disguise!"
"Gaillard! In heaven's name can it be you?"
"'Tis I! I may have aged since we last met, my colonel, but my heart is
as young as ever."
"My dear Gaillard, how did you manage to leave this prison? What are you
doing? Is this not dangerous?" asked Tournay, putting the questions in
rapid succession.
"Gaillard's liberty would not be worth a brass button if he should come
here," replied the actor, "but old Michelet has nothing to fear. I have
been playing hide and seek with the police for the past fortnight. I am
now living at 15 Rue des Mathurins."
Even Tournay, who knew his friend so well, started.
"It is a very long story, and I can only give you an outline of it,"
said Gaillard, seating himself on the stool and leaning heavily on his
cane, while he turned his face so that he could see from one corner of
his eye every motion the turnkey might make.
"I escaped from my dungeon below the ground; I will tell you how when we
have more leisure. The first thing I thought of, when I was once out in
the free air, was a bath. I wanted to drown out the recollection of
assassins and dirty straw, vile air and counterfeiters with whom I had
been on such intimate terms for so many weeks.
"I was afraid to go to any bath houses lest I should be seen and
recognized; besides, I had no money, so I finally concluded to try the
river. I therefore skulked in unfrequented byways until nightfall, when
I went swimming in the Seine by starlight, and I can assure you I never
before appreciated the kindly properties of water to such an extent. My
next desire, after I had slept in the arches of the bridge St. Michel
and broken my fast with a crisp roll, was to see you."
"My dear old uncle!" exclaimed Tournay aloud, placing his hand
affectionately on Gaillard's shoulder.
"I knew that I should be safe if I could procure a good disguise, but
that it would be folly to attempt it without one," continued Gaillard.
"The want of money was still an obstacle. 'Among the costumes in my
chest at home,' thought I, 'is material to disguise a whole race of
Gaillards.' Ah, but how to reach them? That was the matter that required
careful study. Those annoying little red seals that the government
places on the doors of all arrested persons are terribly dangerous to
meddle with. Yet within were clothing and disguises, and a very little
sum of money stowed away for an emergency. Meanwhile, in the evening, I
promenaded down the Rue des Mathurins to look the ground over. There,
planted in front of the house, staring up at the windows of our
apartment, was a great hulking gendarme.
"That night I slept again under the St. Michel bridge,--commodious and
airy enough, but a little damp in the morning hours. Before daylight I
was up and off to the Rue des Mathurins, drawn like a criminal to the
scene of his misdeeds, to inspect the enemy unseen by him.
"There is a certain mouselike gratification in watching from afar the
cat, which, with claws extended, is lying in wait, ready to pounce upon
you as soon as you show your nose." And Gaillard stopped to take a pinch
of snuff and blink at the light with a pair of mild blue eyes. Then,
after applying a colored handkerchief to his nose, he resumed his
narrative.
"At all hours of the day, late at night, or early in the morning, there
was always some officer of police staring persistently at my windows as
if he expected me, furnished with a pair of wings, to come flying in or
out of a fourth story. 'Not yet, my fine fellow,' said I, and vanished
around the corner.
"One night it rained dismally; a cold mist was rising from the river.
The St. Michel bridge had little attraction as a bedroom for me at that
moment, I can assure you. Muffling myself in my cloak, I directed my
steps toward my old abode, hoping that owing to the inclemency of the
weather the officers of the law might be less vigilant. For I had
resolved, the opportunity offering, to make an attempt to enter my own
domicile that very night. Imagine my disgust when, upon arriving, I saw
two gendarmes sheltered in the entrance of the house opposite. Both of
them were obtrusively wide-awake and alert.
"I do not know whether one of them noticed me, lurking by the corner,
but he immediately started to walk in my direction, and not wishing to
run any chances I darted into an alley blacker than a whole calendar of
nights, scaled a wall, and found myself in the narrow court which flanks
our own building. Here I resolved to wait until I could safely venture
out upon the street once more.
"The rain had almost ceased, but I could still hear the gurgle of the
water coming down the spout from the roof. You know that water spout, my
little colonel? It is made to carry off the water from three houses, is
unusually large, and is held firmly in place a few inches from the house
wall by iron braces at intervals of five to six feet. I placed my hand
on one of these braces, and instantly the thought flashed through my
brain, 'It can be done.'"
"You are not going to tell me that you attempted to climb up by the
water pipe?" demanded Tournay incredulously.
"I divested myself of my cloak, coat, and waistcoat, removed my heavy,
rain-soaked shoes, and began the ascent as bravely as any seaman
ordered to the foretop," replied Gaillard.
"I could reach the brace above while standing on the one beneath, and
partly using my knees and partly drawing myself up by the arms, I made
quicker progress than I had deemed possible. In fact, I went up so
vigorously that on reaching the third story I struck my knee against a
piece of loose stucco which was clinging to the wall, waiting for the
first strong wind to blow it to the ground.
"Crash! the plaster fell to the courtyard pavement, where it was
shivered into a thousand fragments.
"The blow on my kneecap made me shiver with pain, and I rested on the
brace just outside the window of the little soubrette, clinging tightly
with both hands to the spout.
"'Thank heaven that it was the stucco that fell, not I,' I whispered
devoutly, just as a window opened on the floor above, and our old
neighbor Avarie appeared. He is always on the lookout for robbers, and
keeps at his bedside a big blunderbuss, with a muzzle like a
speaking-trumpet.
"'Thieves,' I heard him mutter. I kept perfectly quiet, not giving vent
even to a breath.
"'Who's there?'
"I clung close to the shelter of my friendly water pipe.
"'Speak, or I'll fire!'
"I knew he could not see me, and if he did fire his old cannon, I felt
sure that it would explode and blow him into atoms; but the noise would
alarm the neighborhood, and I had a vision of a score of lights
flashing; night-capped heads appearing in all the surrounding windows;
gendarmes running up with their lanterns, and poor Gaillard, clinging
like a frightened cat to the water spout.
"That gave me an idea.
"'Miauw!' answered I plaintively.
"'It's a cat!' exclaimed old Avarie in disgust.
"'Mew--mew--mew,' cried I.
"'What is it?' said a woman's voice, evidently his wife's.
"'Nothing but a cat,' growled Avarie. 'But I think I will let drive at
her just because she disturbed my sleep.'
"I stopped my mewing on the instant.
"'Don't,' pleaded the woman, 'the gun may kick.'
"'Bah, do you think I can't handle a gun?' And I heard a click.
"'Good-by to thee, old Avarie,' I said under my breath.
"'Don't be a fool, husband, and awake the whole neighborhood just for a
cat!' exclaimed his wife.
"Almost at my window another window was thrown open and the little
soubrette's head appeared. She is very fond of cats.
"'Here puss, puss, puss,' she cried.
"'Is that your cat, citizeness?' asked old Avarie.
"'It must be; he has stayed out all night, the naughty fellow. Kitty,
kitty, poor kitty, come in out of the wet.'
"My teeth were chattering with cold and fatigue and that was just what I
most desired, but I did not dare to risk it.
"'You ought to keep the animal at home, and not let him out to disturb
everybody's sleep,' called out the testy old man as he closed his window
with a bang.
"Luckily for me the little soubrette's attention was all directed toward
the roof of the lower extension on the left where her pet evidently had
a habit of straying. She did not see me, crouched behind the pipe so
near as to almost be able to touch her by putting out one hand. By the
way, she looked very pretty in her little white nightcap edged with
lace. I was not very sorry, however, to see her close the window and to
be left alone with my water spout. A few minutes later I had pushed open
the window of my kitchen and wriggled into the room.
"I dared not strike a light for fear of its reflection on the wall
opposite, and groped my way about the room in the dark. My heart leaped
with joy when I had assured myself that no seal had been placed on the
windows nor upon any of the inside doors; the one seal on the outer door
evidently having been deemed sufficient. The dust was an inch thick over
everything, and I moved about in ghostly stillness, struggling to
repress a sneeze. Nothing appeared to have been touched since the night
of my enforced departure.
"I hugged myself with a childish glee at being alone in my little home
in the dead of night. The thought of the gendarmes outside in the rain
made my sides ache with suppressed laughter.
"First, I unearthed my little economies of last winter. Thirteen francs,
five sous. 'Gaillard you're a prodigal fellow,' I said to myself as I
dropped them into my pouch, 'but it is better than nothing.' Then I
collected a few necessities. My beautiful wig of silver hair, and a
suitable dress to go with it. I handled lovingly a few other costumes,
but had the strength of mind to return them to the chest. I should like
to have appeared before you as the 'Spanish outlaw' but it would have
been too dangerous. The character of the English 'milord' would have
been congenial but equally hazardous. So I sensibly adhered to my sober
selection, and tied up all my effects in a neat bundle.
"When all was completed I took one last, longing survey of my rooms,
went to the casement, and, dropping the bundle, held my breath. Thud! it
reached the bottom and lay there innocently in the court. Not a sound
was heard. Old Citizen Avarie, in the adjoining apartment, was snoring
in a way that would put his blunderbuss to shame, and the little
citizeness below had evidently retired into the recess of her
lace-trimmed nightcap to dream of her missing pet.
"Sliding silently from the window I found the iron brace with my toes,
and grasped the clammy water pipe with both hands. I could not close
the casement. 'Never mind, they will think it was the wind that opened
it,' I said, and I descended to the ground with an agility born of
practice.
"In the early morning hours I retired to my bridge, put on my silver wig
and old man's dress, sunk my other clothes to the river bottom, and
appeared in the light of day as an old man.
"I now walk the streets in safety under the very noses of my old
enemies, the police; I come to you and I ask, 'How do you like your old
uncle?'"
"You deceived me completely, my Gaillard," Tournay confessed; "but tell
me this. You said you were still residing at 15 Rue des Mathurins. May I
ask in what capacity? As cat?"
"Having little money, I must earn some more in order to live. I went to
my dear friend, the theatre director, just as I am, and asked him to
employ me about the theatre in any capacity. He did not recognize me,
and putting his hand in his pocket, brought out a piece of forty sous."
"'Sorry, my poor fellow, but I have no place for you. Take this.'"
"I would trust my manager with my life, so I leaned forward to his ear.
'I am Gaillard, hunted, proscribed, but always your old friend Gaillard.
Call me Citizen Michelet.' He gave me a look for which I could have
taken him to my heart, there in his bureau, and hugged him.
"'Citizen Michelet,' he said, 'there is a place of a doorkeeper which
you can have. The pay is small, fifteen francs the week, but it may
suffice your needs.' I knew it was five francs more than old Gaspard
received,--the doorkeeper who drank himself to death,--and I took the
place gladly. When one is old, my nephew, one does not despise even
fifteen francs," and Gaillard looked pathetically into Tournay's face.
"Now I sit every evening at the stage door of the theatre and see the
familiar faces pass in and out. They do not recognize me; but they are
beginning to address kindly nods and occasional words to old Michelet.
"I found a vacant room to let on the ground floor of No. 15 Rue des
Mathurins, so I took the lodging and live there quietly. I am on the
best of terms with the gendarmes, and I talk with them out of my window,
where we exchange pinches of snuff and other like civilities."
"My dear friend"--began Tournay.
"You might as well call me uncle," interrupted Gaillard, "to accustom
yourself to it, for under this guise I shall visit you again."
"My dear _uncle_, it is like a draught of wine to a thirsty man to hear
you talk. It is like a ray of sunshine to see your wrinkled old face."
"I hope to be the ray of sunshine to light you out of this prison," said
Gaillard.
"I'm afraid that will be a difficult matter," replied Tournay. "I am not
so clever as you in wearing disguises."
"You will wear no disguise," answered Gaillard. "Are you in a cell by
yourself?" he asked in the next breath.
"No, strange to say I have a companion, Citizen St. Hilaire."
"That is not so bad; only we shall have to include him in our plans,"
replied Gaillard. "You can trust him?"
"Implicitly."
"When I lean forward over my stick," said Gaillard, "run your hand
stealthily up the back of my head under my long hair. Now."
Tournay did as he was bid.
"Do you feel it?"
"I feel something hard, like a little file."
"Good! You could not expect a chest of tools; the jailer searched me
thoroughly. Untie that little file from the hair. Can you do it?"
"I think so."
"I tied it quite firmly for fear it would fall out. Do not be afraid of
pulling my hair, but do not pull the wig off. You may take both
hands,--the turnkey is not paying any attention,--as if you were
arranging your old uncle's coat collar."
"I'll have it in a moment. There!"
"Slip this up your sleeve, my colonel. Now a few questions and remarks.
How many bars has your window?"
"Four."
"How long will it take you to file them all?"
Tournay considered. "We could only work in any safety in the middle of
the night, perhaps four hours in the twenty-four."
"How long do you think it will take you to cut through the four bars?"
Tournay thought for a moment. "We can work only at intervals in the
dead of night," he replied, "so it may take several days."
"Good! In four days I will bring you a rope."
"In God's name, Gaillard, how can you manage to bring a rope into this
place?"
"I am not certain of that point yet, but I shall manage it," was the
cool rejoinder.
"My dear Gaillard, I believe you. If you were to promise me to bring a
spire of Notre Dame wrapped up in gold paper I should expect to see it
at the appointed hour. With a rope in our possession and the bars cut,
we can get down the forty feet to the yard beneath. But there is the
sentry, and the difficulty of escape from the yard!"
"I will take care of the sentry and the escape," replied Gaillard, "and
in four days I shall be here again. Meanwhile cut through the bars so
that you can push them out of place at any moment. Attention; here comes
the turnkey.
"Good-by, my nephew. Be of good cheer. A good patriot need have no
fear," said Gaillard in a quavering voice.
"Good-by, my uncle," rejoined Tournay as he went back to his cell. "I
shall see you then next week at the same hour," he called out through
the bars of the door.
"Yes."
"Well, then, good-by again. Mind the step. Be careful lest my uncle
trip, citizen turnkey; he is old and rather venturesome for one of his
years."