THE DRAGON’S DEN.
THE rush of the intruders, sudden and overwhelming, drove me back from
the door, but I managed to hold my place, pistol in hand, before my
love, too dazed for the moment to do aught but stare at them and curse
the fortune which had brought us to this desperate pass. But I had a
part to play,--a part I had rehearsed more than once for an emergency
just such as this,--and I got my wits back by a supreme effort, while
the newcomers still stood gaping in a semicircle about us.
“Well, citizens,” I said, trying to achieve a smile, “one would have
thought you were taking a fortress by assault.”
“We were set to patrol this road,” explained one of them. “We saw this
light and determined to find out what was going forward here.”
I saw by their awkwardness and want of discipline that they were not
trained soldiery, but raw levies with no clear idea of their duties;
and my spirits rose.
“Quite right,” I commended, smiling this time in earnest. “I suspected
as much. That is why I opened so promptly, since we have nothing to
conceal. There is no enemy of the Republic here--only this honest old
fellow, this woman and myself. So farewell, my friends. Oblige me
by using this to drink the health of the Nation;” and I tossed their
spokesman a silver crown.
A murmur of satisfaction ran around the group, and such is the power of
self-assurance, that three or four of them made a motion to withdraw.
But their spokesman, evidently the most intelligent among them,
lingered.
“I fear we must require some account of you, citizen,” he said, looking
at me apologetically, “and above all of your companion, who appears to
me to be an aristocrat.”
“An aristocrat!” I laughed, realizing in a flash that in these
circumstances I must take some other line than that I had originally
resolved on. “So it seems you cannot tell maid from mistress! She is
so little of an aristocrat that she hopes to be _vivandière_ to the
regiment which I join.”
“Then, _pardieu_, you must join ours!” cried one of the rogues, and
pressed toward her. “Hey, my dear, look at us--we’re a likely set of
fellows. We’ll be kind to you--we’ll do our best to make you happy;” at
which his comrades laughed approvingly and gazed at my companion with
meaning glances.
“We are already pledged to a regiment at Thouars, citizen,” I
protested, pushing him back good-naturedly, though there was red murder
in my heart.
“Her clothing is not that of a servant,” said another, staring at her.
“Well, may not a maid don her mistress’s gown?” I demanded.
“Especially when she is leaving her for the last time?”
They laughed again at that, but I saw that suspicion had been
aroused--faint indeed, but enough to imperil us. Any but these country
louts would have seen through the lie at once--that peerless creature a
servant, indeed!
“What is your business here, citizen?” queried the first speaker after
a moment’s silence during which I noted with uneasiness that none of
them made any movement to retire.
“We stopped here to rest,” I explained. “My comrade has injured her
ankle. We will spend the night here, since it is impossible for her to
go farther. Your regiment passes here?”
“Undoubtedly, since it also goes to Thouars.”
“Well, we will join it as it passes. Perhaps you will give us breakfast
and permit my comrade to ride in one of the wagons.”
“Undoubtedly, citizen,” chimed in another with a laugh; “but we’ll
not permit any such scarecrow as you to ride with her. You’d prefer a
handsome soldier, wouldn’t you, my dear?”
“As you will,” I agreed, laughing too, though with no small effort;
“but you see how pale she is--she suffers greatly. A night’s rest will
change all that. So good-night, citizens; till to-morrow.”
This time they appeared really satisfied and started for the door in a
body. But a sudden uproar from without stopped them.
“Name of a dog!” yelled a hoarse voice. “Where are those blockheads?
Ah, they shall hang for this! Deserters! Traitors!”
There was an uneasy movement among the men. I saw that they had reason
to know and fear that voice. In another instant a ferocious face
appeared in the doorway, its eyes gleaming with rage.
“What!” it cried; and I saw a sword gleam in the air and descend with
no uncertain force on heads and shoulders. “Dallying here with a
light-o’-love! Is it thus you do your duty? Is it thus you serve the
Nation? Hounds! Curs! I’ll show you!” and he drove them forth pell-mell
into the road. “And who are you, citizen?” he demanded, wheeling upon
me when the last of them had disappeared.
“I am on my way to join the army at Thouars,” I said.
“And she?” and he jerked his thumb toward my companion.
“Spoil of war,” I explained with a wide smile, seeing he was too wise
to swallow the other story.
He turned and stared at her for a moment.
“My word, you have a pretty taste, citizen,” he said; and his eye
gleamed lasciviously. “I think I will release you, my dear, from this
dirty brute,” he added to her with a leer he no doubt thought engaging.
“You’d rather have a brave fellow like myself, wouldn’t you? Say,
wouldn’t you?” and he approached and tweaked her ear. “Of course you
would! So it is settled.”
“Citizen,” I interposed, “I shall have a word to say to that. She
belongs to me.”
He turned upon me a disdainful countenance.
“Get out, you beast!” he said. “Don’t you see we wish to be relieved of
you? You say you are going to Thouars. Well, the door is open. Suppose
you start now.”
“When I start my prisoner goes with me,” I said.
He stared at me for a moment as though scarcely able to believe his
ears.
“What!” he shouted. “You dispute with me! You--you scum! You insect!
You toad! I tell you to get out! I advise you to get out while you are
able to use your legs.”
“Pah!” I retorted, rage mastering me. “Save your ass’s voice for those
cowards out yonder. I’m not afraid of noise!”
“Dog!” he yelled, and sprang upon me.
But I had my pistol out--it was his life or mine--and fired straight
into that savage countenance. I saw the gaping hole the bullet left;
I saw the blood spurt from it as he pitched forward at my feet. Then
a score of savage hands seized me, and I thought for an instant that
I should be torn asunder. But a mounted patrol, summoned by the shot,
cantered up, cut their way through the crowd, and jerked me out of its
clutches.
“What is all this?” demanded their officer.
In two words they told him the story, pointing to the body on the floor
and to the girl cowering in one corner, her hands before her face. They
ended by demanding that I be hanged forthwith.
“Oh, he shall hang!” my new captor assured them. “Rest content. But he
may be a spy; and first we’ll see what he knows. Tie his hands.”
They were secured behind my back in a twinkling.
“Bring the woman too,” he said; and one of them brought her forth and
threw her across a horse. I saw with a sigh of relief that she had
fainted. “Give me your rope, Couthon,” he added to one of his men.
The rope was a strong yet slender line. Already in one end of it there
was a running noose, and I shuddered as I guessed its meaning. He threw
the noose over my head, drew it tight about my neck and made the other
end fast to a ring in his saddle.
“Release him,” he commanded, with an evil laugh. “He can’t get away.
Forward!”
For an instant the thought flashed through my brain that I would end it
here, that I would let myself be dragged under the hoofs of the horses.
Then, as a trooper cantered by me bearing a limp form before him, I
realized my cowardice. So long as a breath of life remained I must
fight to save her from the hideous fate which threatened her.
So I ran along in the dust beside my captor in such an agony of rage
and despair as I had never known. If a wish of mine could have engulfed
the world in ruin I would instantly have uttered it. I prayed for an
earthquake to swallow us, for a thunderbolt to blast us. I looked up at
the clear sky and cursed it. So this was the end--for me, death by the
rope--for her....
The lights of the camp gleamed ahead. In a moment we passed the outpost
and approached a tent before which a sentry was stationed.
“Announce to Citizen Goujon,” said my captor, reining in his horse,
“that we have here two traitors to be judged.”
The sentry saluted and disappeared into the tent. As for me, my heart
had stopped at the mention of that name. Goujon! Was he to prove my
murderer, too? And Charlotte----
“Enter, citizen,” said the sentry, holding back the flap of the tent.
My captor threw himself from the saddle and led me into the tent, the
rope still about my neck. Another followed carrying Charlotte.
Within the tent was a table upon which two candles gleamed. Before it
sat a man examining a pile of papers. He looked up as we entered, and I
shuddered as I met his eyes; for they seemed a snake’s eyes, so veiled
and cold and venomous they were. The face was pock-marked, clammy-grey,
and the nose so fissured and swollen that it had the appearance of a
sponge.
He glanced from me to the burden which the trooper bore, and a slow
flush crept into his cheeks.
“Well?” he asked, sharply, turning back to my captor.
And again I had the pleasure of listening to the highly-colored
story of my recent exploit. I was a murderer, a traitor--undoubtedly
an aristocrat. I had shot down in cold blood the officer who was
interrogating me. I was plainly a desperate character and should be
hanged before I had further opportunity for evil.
“But before hanging him,” my captor concluded, “I thought it best to
bring him to you for interrogation. He may be a spy.”
Goujon nodded.
“You were right,” he said. “Receive my compliments. Tie him to that
pole yonder. As for the woman, place her on my cot,--we shall find
means to revive her;” and he laughed menacingly. “You may retire,” he
added, “but stay within call.”
They saluted and withdrew.
Goujon waited until the flap fell behind them. Then he approached me
slowly, until he was quite near, and contemplated me with those snake’s
eyes of his--my face, my clothes, my shoes. With a little smile of
enjoyment he turned away and bent above the cot, his hands clasped
behind him. At last he turned to the table, took up a candle and held
the flame close to her lips. It flickered back and forth, and he set it
down again with a chuckle of satisfaction.
Then he came back to me and stood for a moment gloating over me.
“So, Citizen Tavernay,” he said at last with an infernal smile, “you
did not escape after all!”