TWO WOMEN
The revelation that Tournay was condemned, the awful knowledge that he
would be executed on the morrow, conveyed to her thus suddenly, made the
room reel before Edme's eyes. In her dizziness she fell against one of
the tables and held to it for support.
In the quiet that followed the departure of the clerks she pressed her
head and tried to think. At first her benumbed brain refused to work;
then as the full significance of the clerk's action came back to her,
when she realized just what he had done and what she in her turn might
do, she stood erect, alert, and courageous.
The warrant for Robert's death; could she get possession of it? With a
beating heart she glided into the chamber of death warrants.
A lamp was burning in the room, and there in plain view upon the table
were three packets of black-covered papers. She bent over them hastily
and at once took up the file marked: "Warrants of the eighth Thermidor."
With nervous fingers she ran them through, looking at each name until
she came to that of "Tournay, Robert, ex-colonel." At sight of the name
she gave a half-suppressed cry, and took it quietly from the others.
"They shall not send you to the guillotine to-morrow, Robert," she
breathed. Her first thought was how to make way with the fatal paper.
She looked round the room; it had one window and two doors. The window
looked out upon the street. One doorway led back into the tribunal
chamber. Through the other, a small one, the two clerks must have passed
out. She hastened towards it, praying fervently that they had omitted to
fasten it. Vain prayer, the clerks had not been remiss in their duty
here. It was locked. Yet it was not a strong barrier. A few blows struck
with some heavy object might break it through; or better still there was
a pistol in the drawer of one of the desks; with that she could blow the
lock to atoms. Either method would make a noise, but she must take the
risk.
Just as these thoughts flashed through her mind, she saw to her
consternation the door-handle turn, and heard the grating of a key on
the outside.
"The employees returning," she thought, and had just presence of mind
enough to pass her left hand, which still clutched the death warrant,
behind her back, when the door opened, and she was face to face with a
woman.
"Hello!" said the latter, "I expected to find Clement and Hanneton here.
Who are you?"
"I--I am,--I came in the place of Madame--of Citizeness Privat."
"You seem a little put out, citizeness, at the sight of La Liberte. You
have never seen me before? That's why, eh? Tell me, now, what are you
doing here?"
"I am doing the work of Citizeness Privat, who is ill," replied Edme,
recovering her self-possession.
"Hum," said La Liberte with a slight sniff, as she closed the door and
passed toward the centre of the room. Edme slowly revolved on her heel,
keeping her face toward La Liberte, and her left hand behind her back.
"What are you trying to hide there?" demanded La Liberte quickly, whose
bright brown eyes took in every motion of Edme.
"I have nothing to hide."
La Liberte's glance went from Edme to the warrants on the table, and
then back to Edme's face again.
"You are hiding something behind your back," persisted La Liberte,
trying to obtain a peep at it by making a circle around Edme. Edme
continued to turn, always keeping her face toward La Liberte.
The latter stopped. "I will see what you have there," she declared with
a toss of her head, her curiosity aroused to the burning point.
"You shall not. It does not concern you," was the firm reply.
For an instant each looked into the other's eyes in silence. Both
breathed defiance; both were equally determined.
Then with a tigerlike spring La Liberte dashed forward, seized Edme
about the waist with one arm, while she endeavored to secure the
parchment with her other hand. Edme quickly passed the document into her
right hand, bringing it forward high above her head. With the same
cat-like agility, La Liberte sprang for it on the other side and managed
to get hold of it by one corner. There was a short struggle; a tearing
of paper, and each held a piece of the document in her hand.
"A warrant!" exclaimed La Liberte, darting back a few paces and shaking
out the piece of paper in her hand. "You have been tampering with
these," she added quickly, putting one hand upon the pile of documents
on the table.
Edme made no reply.
"Why did you take it?" inquired La Liberte, taking her portion of paper
near the light to examine it, while she kept one eye fixed upon her late
antagonist, in fear of a sudden attack.
The warrant had been divided nearly down the centre; but the last name
of the condemned man was upon the piece held by La Liberte.
"Tournay!" she cried out in surprise. "Robert Tournay! What object have
you in destroying this warrant?"
"I have not destroyed it," replied Edme, making the greatest effort to
maintain an outward calm. "It was you who tore it."
"Don't try any of those tricks with me," snapped La Liberte. "Come, what
was your object in taking this warrant? It is a dangerous thing to
tamper with those documents."
"I shall not answer any of your questions," was Edme's rejoinder.
For a space of ten seconds the two women stood again confronting each
other, as if each waited for the other to move. La Liberte's eyes looked
fixedly at Edme, as if they would read her through and through.
"You are not what you pretend to be," she said finally; "you are no
woman of the people." Then, suddenly flinging aside the torn paper, she
rushed forward and seized Edme's arm.
"I know who you are now!" she exclaimed excitedly. "You are an
aristocrat! Don't deny it!" she continued passionately. "I came from La
Thierry. I was a young girl when I left there, but my memory serves me
well. Your name is Edme de Rochefort. You are an aristocrat, and you
love the republican colonel! You destroyed this warrant. You risked your
life in the attempt to prolong his."
"Whoever I may be, whatever I attempted to do, you tore that paper. It
was you who destroyed it," said Edme as she wrenched herself free from
the woman's grasp.
The only answer of La Liberte was a loud and scornful laugh. She
approached Edme again with a malignant glitter in her eyes; but Edme
held her ground and confronted her bravely.
"So you are Edme de Rochefort," repeated La Liberte slowly. "I remember
having seen you years ago when I was a girl of fifteen, at my father's
mill near the village of La Thierry. You were a pale-faced girl then.
You didn't wear coarse clothes then! You drove in your carriage, and
didn't look at such as me; but I saw you, and hated you for being so
proud. Then there was a certain marquis." A bright spot appeared on
Edme's cheek, but she did not speak.
"He came to pay his court to you, but he made love to me. He never even
made a pretense of loving you. But he cared for me in his cold, selfish
way. He took me to Paris, gave me everything money could buy, for a
while. Then he left me, and went back to you. I hated you for that. You
did not care for him. You did not marry him. That made no difference to
me. Then there was another man. He was not for you. He was of my class,
not yours. You had no right to his love. He never loved me, I know. I am
too proud to say he loved me when it was not so. But he was kind to me.
He was noble and generous, and I loved him. You had no right to him. I
hate you for that more than all." Her passion wrought upon her so that
her once pretty face was something fearful to behold. Edme expected at
each breath she would spring forward and tear her like a tiger cat.
"I care not for your hatred," Edme retorted calmly. "I never willfully
wronged you. Your hatred cannot harm me."
"No?" demanded the frenzied La Liberte. "It can restore this paper. I
can denounce you. I can send you with your lover to the guillotine."
"That does not terrify me," replied Edme. "You can send the woman you
hate and the man you profess to love into another world together. That
is all you can do. I am above your hatred."
La Liberte started to speak, then checked herself.
"You say you love him. Love," repeated Edme in a tone of deep disdain.
"You dare to call that love which would destroy its object? Such as you
are not capable of love."
"If it were not that _you_ loved him, I would let them cut me into
pieces for his sake," retorted La Liberte fiercely.
"You say that you love him, and you are willing to send him to the
guillotine," repeated Edme.
"If it were not that it would be giving him to you, I would give my life
a thousand times to save him," was the answer.
Edme caught La Liberte by the arm.
"You have it in your power to cause my arrest. If you will not use that
power, if you will give me only twenty-four hours, I may be able to save
Robert Tournay's life. At the expiration of that time, whether I succeed
or fail, I will surrender myself. I will denounce myself before the
Committee of Public Safety."
La Liberte looked into Edme's face searchingly but made no reply.
"You understand what I propose," Edme continued in a cool, firm voice.
"If you agree to it you can accomplish what you desire; the rescue of
Robert Tournay and my death."
"Bah," said La Liberte with a shrug; "you are very heroic, but, Robert
Tournay once out of danger, you would not give yourself up to the
committee. In your place, I should not do it, and I will not trust you."
"I give you my promise to appear before Robespierre himself."
"Your promise," repeated La Liberte, "you ask me to accept your simple
word?"
"The word of a de Rochefort," said Edme with quiet dignity.
"The word of an aristocrat," continued La Liberte slowly. "You
aristocrats vaunt your devotion to honor."
"And will you not trust it when Colonel Tournay's life is at stake?"
asked Edme.
"Yes, I will," La Liberte burst forth in fierce energy. "I _will_ trust
your word, and test your honor."
"Then for twenty-four hours you will let me go free? You will not have
me watched nor interfered with in any way?"
"I give you _my_ word," said La Liberte, drawing herself up, "and my
word is as good as that of the proudest aristocrat."
Then changing her manner she asked quickly: "How do you propose to save
Robert Tournay? What can you do?"
Edme had no intention of imparting her plan to La Liberte, yet she did
not wish to antagonize her by refusing to confide in her.
"There is not time to go into the details of it now. First help me to
get away from here. Those clerks may return."
"I will prevent that," said La Liberte quickly. "I know where they sup.
I will go there and delay their return. They are convivial youngsters
and never refuse a glass or two. In the meantime you must see to it that
those three files of warrants do not retain the slightest appearance of
having been handled. Be sure that every object in the room is just as
you found it."
By this time La Liberte was outside the door. Looking back into the
room, she said: "When you have done that, go down this staircase, cross
the street, and wait for me in the shadow of the building opposite. I
will then conduct you to my house," and La Liberte's feet sprang nimbly
down the stairs.
Quickly Edme picked up the pieces of torn warrant, intending to take
them away and burn them. Then she turned her attention to the documents
on the table, and in a few minutes had them arranged just as she found
them. She placed the chairs in a natural position before the table, and
stepped back for a final survey to assure herself that she had not left
a trace which might arouse the suspicion of the clerks.
No, there was nothing that Hanneton or even Clement would be likely to
notice. She had been none too rapid in the arrangement of these details.
The door of the adjoining chamber was unlocked and some one entered.
Edme could tell by the footfalls that the person was traversing the room
with measured tread. Then came the sound of a chair being drawn up to a
desk. Then a dry cough echoed through the deserted hall as a man cleared
his throat.
Edme gave a glance toward the door that led down the staircase taken by
La Liberte. It stood invitingly open, but to gain it she would have to
pass the door that communicated with the tribunal. This also was open.
She started on tiptoe across the floor.
The words "Bring me a light here, will you?" fell upon her ears in a
harsh tone of authority. She started at this sudden command. She had
made no noise, yet the mysterious personage seemed to be aware of her
presence.
"In the next room there, whoever you are, bring in more light; this lamp
burns villainously!"
Edme hesitated no longer but caught up the lamp from the table and
entered the tribunal chamber. As she obediently placed the light upon
the desk the man who was writing there looked up with impatient gesture.
Although she had never seen him before, she had heard him described many
times, and she knew that he was Robespierre.
"Well!" he exclaimed, "who are you?"
"I--I am here in place of the Citizeness Privat."
"The Citizeness Privat?"
"Yes, she cleans up the rooms, and being ill"--
"Cleans!" repeated Robespierre with a laugh, blowing the dust from the
top of the table, "Is that what you call it? This Privat is like all the
rest, willing to take the nation's pay and give nothing in return. And
you are also like the rest, eh?"
"I do not know what you mean. I am doing her work as well as I can. With
your permission I will hasten to complete my task," replied Edme.
In spite of her abhorrence of him she could not help looking at him
intently, her eyes expressing the horror which she felt. To her, he was
the embodiment of all that was evil, the very spirit of the Revolution.
As her glance rested upon the white waistcoat, fitting close to his
meagre figure, and as she thought of the cruel heart that beat beneath
it, the vision of Charlotte Corday and the vile Marat flashed before her
eyes with startling vividness.
What if heaven had decreed that she should be the means of ridding the
world of this monster? What if the opportunity was about to present
itself? She pushed the thought away from her, with the inward
supplication, "God keep me from doing it."
Robespierre noticed the look of horror on her face, and attributed it to
the fear his presence inspired. His small eyes blinked complacently.
"Stay," he said; "you have nothing to fear if you are a good patriotic
citizeness. And you may be pardoned if you neglect your work for a few
minutes to converse with Robespierre."
There was an insinuating softness in his tone as he spoke that made her
nerves creep and increased her loathing for him. He sat leaning back
negligently in his chair, and she stood looking down upon him like some
superb creature from another world.
"By the power of beauty," he exclaimed suddenly, "you are a glorious
woman! I have always said that only among women of the people is true
beauty to be found."
She neither moved nor spoke, but stood still as a statue.
He leaned forward in his chair. "You shall lay aside your broom and
dust-rags. I would see more of you. I have it. You shall be the Goddess
of Beauty at our next great fete. In that role Robespierre himself will
render you homage." Rising, he took one of her hands in his.
She shuddered. It was as if a snake had coiled itself about her fingers.
The contact with her soft hand sent just a drop of blood to his sallow
cheek.
"What sayst thou, O glorious creature? Wilt thou be a goddess of beauty
and sit enthroned upon the Champ de Mars, dressed in radiant clothing,
instead of these poor garments?" He spoke in low tones meant to be
tender.
Again the vision of Charlotte Corday flashed before her.
"No, no!" she cried out, more in answer to the thought that terrified
her than to his question.
"Fear nothing, fair one," he said soothingly. "Robespierre is only
terrible to the guilty; to the good he is always magnanimous and kind.
Some say that I abuse my power, but that is false. True, I condemn many,
but 'tis done with justice; and I also pardon many. Should I receive no
credit for my clemency?" he continued, as if he were arguing with some
unseen personage.
He released her hand and leaned his elbow on the desk. Her hand fell
cold and numb to her side, but the spell in which he had held her was
broken. A sudden daring resolve entered her head.
"I have been told that you were a cruel monster, who condemned for the
pleasure of condemning; who did not know the meaning of clemency," she
said, "and therefore I am afraid of you."
"They have maligned me," he answered.
"Will you prove it by granting me a pardon, one that I can use as I may
wish?"
Robespierre became alert on the instant.
"You would set some man at liberty?"
"Yes."
"Your lover, is it not?"
"I pray you, do not ask me."
"Do not ask you!" repeated Robespierre. "And yet you ask me to pardon
him. Why should I do it?"
"To prove that you know what clemency is."
"I would rather show it in some other way. I should be a fool to set
your lover at liberty, so that you both might laugh at me."
"I have not said that it was my lover."
"No, but I say so."
"You said a moment ago that you knew what mercy was, yet you cannot
understand my feeling at the thought that he must die."
Robespierre took up a pen from the table and poised it over a sheet of
paper. The pleading look in the beautiful eyes gave him great enjoyment,
and he took a keen relish in prolonging it.
"A few words from my pen," he said tantalizingly, "would set the man at
liberty. How would you reward me if I wrote them for you?"
"Oh, I pray you to do so," she cried out, throwing herself at his feet.
"I pray you to write them. If you have the power, use it for mercy."
Robespierre gazed deep into the eyes which looked up at him imploringly.
"Who are you?" he demanded with the energy of sudden passion. "You are
no woman of the common people. Who are you?"
"One who would have you do a noble action," she answered. "One who is
pleading with you for your own soul's sake."
"Whoever you may be, you have bewitched me. Promise you will come hence
with me, and I will write the release."
"Write it," she whispered faintly.
Robespierre dashed off a few hurried lines.
"What is the fellow's name?" he asked.
"Sign the paper," she murmured, dropping her eyes. "I implore you, do
not ask me his name. Let me fill that in."
"I will free no man from prison unless I know his name," replied
Robespierre.
"I will never tell you that," she replied, rising to her feet and going
to the other side of the desk, "never."
"What foolish nonsense," he complained, signing his name. "Now," he
continued, shaking the sand box over the wet ink, "tell me his name, and
I will send this pardon to the conciergerie at once. See, I have written
'immediate release' upon it. You have only to tell me his name. Do you
still hesitate?"
There was a sudden rattle in the drawer on Edme's side of the desk.
Leaning forward, she brought one hand down upon the paper, while with
the other she pointed a pistol at Robespierre's head.
He turned deadly white and drew back in his chair.
"Would you murder me?" he gasped out.
[Illustration: "WOULD YOU MURDER ME?"]
"If you make one movement," she replied, "Marat's fate will be yours."
He cringed further away from the muzzle of the weapon that stared him in
the face. With one hand she folded up the document and put it in the
bosom of her dress, all the while keeping the pistol aimed steadily at
him.
"Now," she continued coolly, "you have the key of the door. Make no
movement," she added quickly, bringing the pistol still nearer him, "but
tell me where to find it."
"It is in the door now," he snarled.
She came cautiously around the corner of the desk, still keeping the
weapon leveled at his head.
He rose to his feet and sprang toward her. The pistol snapped. He caught
her by the wrist. Then pinning both her arms to her side with his arms
about her waist he breathed in her ear:--
"You cannot fire a pistol that is not loaded, though you _did_ startle
me. Now give me that paper."
Edme did not speak, but struggled desperately to break from his grasp.
She determined that he might kill her before she would give back the
paper. So fiercely did she struggle that he had to exert all his
strength to hold her.
"I'll have that paper again if I have to strangle you to get it!" he
muttered through his teeth. He succeeded in holding down both arms with
one of his, leaving his left arm free.
Before he could make use of it, he felt himself seized from behind. His
nerves, strained by his previous fright, gave way completely at this
unexpected attack. Uttering a cry, he released his hold completely.
"Save yourself; I will not hold you to your promise!" cried a voice.
Edme waited to hear nothing more, but darted swiftly from the room,
leaving the baffled Robespierre confronted by La Liberte.
For a moment he stood still, his surprise rendering him incapable of
speech or action. La Liberte walked jauntily to the door through which
Edme had just vanished, locked it, and stuck the key in her belt beside
the knife she always wore there.
"Do you know what you are doing, you mad creature?" cried Robespierre,
running to the door and putting his hand upon the latch. "Unlock this
door at once."
"Wait a moment; I have something to say to you," was La Liberte's
rejoinder.
"Give me that key instantly, do you hear?" he yelled, stamping his foot
upon the floor. "You do not know what you are doing."
"I know," said La Liberte, nodding her head. "I have seen and heard
everything; I have been watching you from the door of the back
staircase."
"The back staircase!" exclaimed Robespierre, starting toward it.
"You need not trouble to go to it. I locked that door when I came in."
Robespierre came toward her, furious with passion. "I will have none of
your escapades," he said fiercely; "give me that key or I will"--
"Keep off! keep off!" cried out La Liberte, bounding lightly out of his
reach with a little mocking laugh. "Don't catch me about the waist; I
carry my sting there."
"You wasp! I will crush you!" he cried out, foaming with rage.
"Better take care how you handle wasps," was her rejoinder as she
perched herself upon the edge of a desk and shook her brown curls
defiantly at him.
"Come, Liberte," he said, trying a coaxing tone, although his anger
almost choked him; "I know you will open the door at once when I tell
you that woman has obtained from me by a skillful ruse a pardon in
blank. I don't know whose name will be filled in. Perhaps some great
enemy of the Republic will be set at liberty, unless I can send word at
once to the conciergerie and forestall it."
"I know who will be liberated," sang La Liberte, swinging her feet.
"You do!" vociferated Robespierre in genuine astonishment. "Is this a
plot? Are you concerned in it?" And he came toward her, his small eyes
winking rapidly.
"You don't get it yet," laughed La Liberte, sliding over to the other
side of the desk. "I am concerned in enough of a plot to keep you from
sending to the scaffold a man to whom I've taken a fancy. I do not very
often take a particular interest in any one person, but when I do, it is
lasting." And she regarded him airily from her point of vantage.
"I'll send you to the guillotine," hissed Robespierre between his teeth,
striking his clenched fist upon the desk in front of him. "I'll have you
arrested to-night. I'll bear with you no longer. I have permitted you to
swagger around in public, to come into the Jacobin Club and flourish
your pistols, because it amused the populace, and I laughed with them at
your antics; but now you have overstepped the line. This meddling with
national affairs will cost you your life."
For a moment La Liberte confronted him from behind her barricade, her
eyes darting fire.
"How dare you threaten me!" she cried shrilly.
"You have conspired against the Republic; you shall pay for it," he
repeated, his fingers working convulsively as if he would like to lay
hands upon her.
"My name is La Liberte," she said proudly, drawing herself up. "I am a
child of the Revolution. I have drunk of her blood. Do you think,
Robespierre, to terrify me with your shining toy, the guillotine? Bah! I
snap my fingers at it;" and speaking thus, she advanced toward him, one
hand resting on the dagger at her hip. He fell back before her, step by
step, until they reached the door. Voices were heard outside and some
one tried to enter.
"Break the door down, whoever you are!" cried Robespierre. "Kick the
panel in; throw your whole weight against it."
"We are Hanneton and Clement, clerks; we found the rear doorway
locked"--
"Break in, I say!" called out Robespierre impatiently.
The hall reverberated with the noise of an attack made by Hanneton's
heavy shoes and Clement's shoulder.
La Liberte inserted the key in the lock. "I might as well open it now,"
she said, throwing back the door.
The two clerks stood on the threshold in open-mouthed surprise.
La Liberte passed them like a fawn and sped swiftly down the staircase.
"We were merely returning to finish up a little work," stammered
Clement, who was the first to recover the use of his tongue; "but if we
intrude"--
"Come in," interrupted Robespierre quickly. "I have an errand of
importance for you." Seating himself at a table, he dashed off two short
notes. The clerks exchanged glances from time to time.
"Here!" said Robespierre looking at Clement, and sealing the letters as
he spoke. "You look the less stupid. Take this at once to the keeper of
the conciergerie, then report to me in person at my house. You other
fellow, take this to Commandant Henriot. You will find him either at the
Hotel de Ville or at the Jacobin Club. Tell him to report to me in
person. Now go, both of you."
The two clerks did not wait to be twice bidden, and Robespierre followed
them from the room.
An hour later the commandant stood before the president of the committee
in his own house.
"Well," asked Robespierre, "have you executed the warrant?"
"The Citizeness Liberte has been incarcerated in the Luxembourg prison,"
was the reply.
Robespierre's eyes blinked rapidly. "She is a child of the Revolution,"
he repeated softly, "and does not fear my toy."
Upon Henriot's heels entered Clement. Robespierre turned to him eagerly.
"Fifteen minutes before I reached the conciergerie, a prisoner, named
Robert Tournay, was liberated on a release signed by you, citizen
president. It was delivered by a woman," was the brief report.
An oath sprang to Robespierre's lips. "Tournay!" he cried out. "So it
was Tournay whom that woman has freed. The man is dangerous," he
continued, speaking to himself. "He should have perished long ago had I
not wished to get at Hoche through him. But he shall not escape me; nor
shall the woman."
"Henriot," he exclaimed in his next breath, "order every route leading
out of the city guarded. Lodge information at every section for the
arrest of Robert Tournay, and of one other, a woman."
"Yes, citizen president, and who"--
"Wait, I will write her description for you," cried Robespierre. "There
it is. Now be prompt, my patriot. We can still recapture our prisoner,
and then"--He did not complete the sentence, but his teeth came together
with a snap, and he drew his thin lips over them tightly.