THE AFFAIR OF QUESNAY
The lawyer, Lefebre, of high stature, with broad shoulders and florid
complexion, loved to dine well, and spent his time between billiards,
"Calvados" and perorations in the cafés. For taking this part in the
conspiracy he expected a fat sinecure on the return of the Bourbons, in
recompense for his devotion.
Early in April, 1807, Lefebre and Le Chevalier were dining together at
the Hôtel du Point-de-France at Argentan. They had found Beaurepaire,
Desmontis and the Cousin Dusaussay there; they went to the café and
stayed there several hours. Allain, called General Antonio, whom Le
Chevalier had chosen as his chief lieutenant, appeared and was presented
to the others. Allain was over forty; he had a long nose, light eyes, a
face pitted with smallpox, and a heavy black beard; the manner of a calm
and steady bourgeois. Le Chevalier took a playing card, tore half of it
off, wrote a line on it and gave it to Allain, saying, "This will admit
you." They talked awhile in the embrasure of a window, and the lawyer
caught these words: "Once in the church, you will go out by the door on
the left, and there find a lane; it is there...."
When Allain had gone Le Chevalier informed his friends of the affair on
hand. At the approach of each term, funds were passed between the
principal towns of the department; from Alençon, Saint-Lô and Evreux
money was sent to Caen, but these shipments took place at irregular
dates, and were generally accompanied by an escort of gendarmes. As the
carriage which took the funds to Alençon usually changed horses at
Argentan, it was sufficient to know the time of its arrival in that town
to deduce therefrom the hour of its appearance elsewhere. Now Le
Chevalier had secured the cooperation of a hostler named Gauthier,
called "Boismâle," who was bribed to let Dusaussay know when the
carriage started. Dusaussay lived at Argentan, and by starting
immediately on horseback, he could easily arrive at the place where the
conspirators were posted several hours before the carriage. Allain had
just gone to find Boismâle.
When he returned to the café, he gave the result of his efforts. The
hostler had decided to help Le Chevalier, but the affair would probably
not take place for six weeks or two months, which was longer than
necessary to collect the little troop needed for the expedition. The
rôles were assigned: Allain was to recruit men; the lawyer would procure
guns wherewith to arm them; and besides this he allowed Allain to use a
house in the Faubourg Saint-Laurent de Falaise, which he was
commissioned to sell. Here could be established "a depôt for arms and
provisions," for one difficulty was to lodge and feed the recruits
during the period of waiting. Le Chevalier answered for the assistance
of Mme. Acquet de Férolles, whom he easily persuaded to hide the men for
a few days at least; he also offered as a meeting-place his house in the
Rue de Saint-Sauveur at Caen.
The chief outlines of the affair being thus arranged, they parted, and
the next day Allain took the road, having with him as usual, a complete
surveyor's outfit, and a sort of diploma as "engineer" which served as a
reference, and justified his continual moves. He was, moreover, a
typical Chouan, determined and ready for anything, as able to command a
troop as to track gendarmes; bold and cunning, he knew all the
malcontents in the country, and could insure their obedience. The
recruiting of this troop, armed, housed and provided for during two
months, roaming the country, hiding in the woods, leading in the
environs of Caen and Falaise the existence of Mohicans, without causing
astonishment to a single gendarme, and, satisfied with having enough to
eat and to drink, never thinking of asking what was required of them, is
beyond belief. And it was in the most brilliant year of the imperial
régime, at the apogee of the much boasted administration, which in
reality was so hollow. The Chouans had sown such disorganisation in the
West, that the authorities of all grades found themselves powerless to
struggle against this ever-recurring epidemic. Count Caffarelli, préfet
of Calvados, in his desire to retain his office, treated the
refractories with an indolence bordering on complicity, and continued to
send Fouché the most optimistic reports of the excellent temper of his
fellow-citizens and their inviolable attachment to the imperial
constitution.
It was the middle of April, 1807. Allain passed through Caen, where he
joined Flierlé, and both of them hiding by day and marching at night,
gained the borders of Brittany. Allain knew where to find men;
twenty-five leagues from Caen, in the department of La Manche, some way
from any highroad, is situated the village of La Mancellière, whose men
were all refractories. General Antonio, who was very popular among the
malcontents, was shown the house of a woman named Harel whose husband
had joined the sixty-third brigade in the year VIII and deserted six
months after, "overcome by the desire to see his wife and children." His
story resembled many others; conscription was repugnant to these
peasants of ancient France, who could not resign themselves to losing
sight of their clock tower; they were brave enough and ready to fight,
but to them, the immediate enemy was the gendarmes, the "Bleus," whom
they saw in their villages carrying off the best men, and they felt no
animosity against the Prussians and Austrians who only picked a quarrel
with Bonaparte.
As he came with an offer of work to be well paid for, Allain was well
received by Mme. Harel, who with her children was reduced to extreme
poverty. It was a question, he said, "of a surveying operation
authorised by the government." Harel came out of hiding in the evening,
and eagerly accepted his old chief's proposition, and as the latter
needed some strong pole-carriers, Harel presented two friends to the
"General" under the names of "Grand-Charles" and "Coeur-le-Roi."
Allain completed his party by the enrollment of three others, Le
Héricey, called "La Sagesse"; Lebrée, called "Fleur d'Épine"; and Le
Lorault, called "La Jeunesse." They drank a cup of cider together, and
left the same evening, Allain and Flierlé leading them.
In six stages they arrived at Caen, and Allain took them to Le
Chevalier's house in the Rue Saint Sauveur. They had to stay there three
weeks. They were put in the loft on some hay, and Chalange, Le
Chevalier's servant, who took them their food, always found them
sleeping or playing cards. In order not to awaken the suspicions of the
usual tradespeople, Lerouge, called "Bornet," formerly a baker,
undertook to make the bread for the house in the Rue Saint-Sauveur. One
day he brought in his bread cart four guns procured by Lefebre; Harel
cleaned them, took them to pieces, and hid them in a bundle of straw.
Then the guns were put on a horse which Lerouge led out at night from
the cellar which opened on the Rue Quimcampoix at the back of the house.
The men followed, and under Allain's guidance crossed the town; when
they reached the extremity of the Faubourg de Vaucelles they stopped and
distributed the arms. Lerouge went back to town with the horse, and the
little troop disappeared on the highroad.
At about five leagues from Caen, after having passed Langannerie, where
a brigade of gendarmerie was stationed, the Falaise road traverses a
small but dense thicket called the wood of Quesnay. The men stopped
there, and passed a whole day hidden among the trees. The following
night Allain led them a three hours' march to a large abandoned house,
whose doors were open, and installed them in the loft on some hay. This
was the Château of Donnay.
Le Chevalier had not deceived himself. Mme. Acquet had received his
suggestion with enthusiasm; the thought that she would be useful to her
hero, that she would share his danger, blinded her to all other
considerations. She had offered Allain and his companions the
hospitality of Bijude, without any fear of compromising her lover, who
made long sojourns there, and she decided on the audacious plan of
lodging them with her husband, who, inhabiting a wing of the Château of
Donnay, abandoned the main body of the château, which could be entered
from the back without being seen. Perhaps she hoped to throw a suspicion
of complicity on Acquet if the retreat should be discovered. As to Le
Chevalier, learning that d'Aché had just left Mandeville and gone to
England "after having announced his speedy return with the prince, with
munitions, money, etc.," he left for Paris, having certain arrangements,
he said, to make with the "Comité secret." Before quitting La Bijude, he
enjoined his mistress, in case the coup should be made in his absence,
to remit the money seized to Dusaussay, who would bring it to him in
Paris where the committee awaited it. She gave him a curl of her fine
black hair to have a medallion made of it, and made him promise "that he
would not forget to bring her some good eau-de-cologne." They then
embraced each other, and he left. It was May 17, 1807, and this was the
last time she saw him.
She did not remain idle, but herself prepared the food of the seven men
lodged in the château. Bundles of hay and straw served them for beds;
they were advised not to go out, even for the most pressing needs and
they stayed there ten days. Every evening Mme. Acquet appeared in this
malodorous den, holding her parasol in her gloved hands, dressed in a
light muslin, and a straw hat. She was usually accompanied by her
servant Rosalie Dupont, a big strong girl, and Joseph Buquet a shoemaker
at Donnay both carrying large earthen plates containing baked veal and
potatoes. It was the hour of kindliness and good cheer; the châtelaine
did not disdain to preside at the repast, coming and going among the
unkempt men, asking if these "good fellows" needed anything and were
satisfied with their fare. She was the most impatient of all; whether
she took the political illusions of those who had drawn her into the
affair seriously, and was anxious to expose herself for "the good
cause"; whether her fatal passion for La Chevalier had completely
blinded her, she took her share in the attack that was being prepared,
which it seemed to her, would put an end to all her misfortunes. She had
already committed an act of foolish boldness in receiving and keeping
Allain's recruits in a house occupied by her husband, and in daring to
visit them there herself; she was thus compromising herself, as if she
enjoyed it, under the eyes of her most implacable enemy, and no doubt
Acquet, informed by his well-trained spies, of all that happened,
refrained from intervention for fear of interrupting an adventure in
which his wife must lose herself irremediably.
Mme. Acquet also behaved as if she was certain of the complicity of the
whole country; she arranged the slightest details of the expedition with
astonishing quickness of mind. With her own hands she made large wallets
of coarse cloth, to carry provisions for the party, and contain the
money taken from the chests. She hastened to Falaise to ask Lefebre to
receive Allain and Flierlé while awaiting the hour of action. Lefebre
who had already fixed his price and exacted a promise of twelve thousand
francs from the funds, would only, however, half commit himself. He
nevertheless agreed to lodge Allain and Flierlé in the vacant building
in the Faubourg Saint-Laurent. Reassured on this point Mme. Acquet
returned to Donnay; during the night of 28th May, the men left the
château without their arms and were conducted to a barn, where they were
left all day alone with a small cask of cider which they soon emptied.
Mme. Acquet was meanwhile preparing another retreat for them. A short
way from the Church of Donnay there was an isolated house belonging to
the brothers Buquet, who were devoted to the Combrays; Joseph, the
shoemaker, had in the absence of Le Chevalier, been known as Mme.
Acquet's lover in the village, and if in the absence of any definite
testimony, it is possible to save this poor woman's memory from this
new accusation, we must still recognise the fact that she exercised an
extraordinary influence over this man. He submitted to her blindly "by
the rights she had granted him," said a report addressed to the Emperor.
Whatever the reason, she had only to say the word for Joseph Buquet to
give her his house, and the six men took possession next day. The
Buquets' mother undertook to feed them for four days; they left her at
dusk on the 2d June; Joseph showed them the road and even led them a
short way.
The poor fellows dragged along till morning, losing themselves often and
not daring to ask the way or to follow beaten tracks. They met Allain at
dawn, one mile from Falaise, on the edge of a wood near the hamlet of
Jalousie; he took them across Aubigny to an isolated inn at the end of
the village.
Lefebre had presented Allain to the innkeeper the night before, asking
if he would receive "six honest deserters whom the gendarmes tormented,"
for a few days, and the man had replied that he would lodge them with
pleasure.
As soon as they arrived at the inn Allain and his men, dropping with
fatigue, asked for breakfast and went at once to the room prepared for
them. It was half past four in the morning; they lay down on the straw
and did not move all day except for meals. The night and all next day
passed in the same manner. On Thursday June 4th they put some bread,
bacon and jugs of cider in their wallets and left about nine in the
evening. On Friday Allain appeared at the inn of Aubigny alone; he
ordered the servant to take some food to the place where the Caen and
Harcourt roads met. Two men were waiting there, who took the food and
went off in haste. Allain went to bed about two in the morning; about
midday on Saturday as he was sitting down to table a carriage stopped at
the inn door; Lefebre and Mme. Acquet got out. They brought seven guns
which were carried up to the loft. They talked; Mme. Acquet took some
lemons from a little basket, and cut them into a bowl filled with white
wine and brandy, and she and Lefebre drank while consulting together.
The heat was intolerable and all three were overcome. Mme. Acquet had to
be helped to her carriage and Lefebre undertook to conduct her to
Falaise. Allain, left alone at Aubigny, ordered supper "for six or seven
persons." He was attending to its preparation when a horseman appeared
and asked to speak with him. It was Dusaussay who brought news. He had
come straight from Argentan where he had seen the coach, laden with
chests of silver, enter the yard of the inn of Point-de-France; he
described the waggon, the harness and the driver, then remounted and
rode rapidly away. Just then the entire band reappeared, led by Flierlé.
Arms were distributed, and the men stood round the table eating hastily.
They filled their wallets with bread and cold meat and left at night.
Allain and Flierlé accompanied them and returned to the inn after two
hours' absence. They did not sleep; they were heard pacing heavily up
and down the loft until daylight. On Sunday, June 7, Allain paid the
reckoning, bought a short axe and an old gun from the innkeeper, making
eight guns in all at the disposal of the band. At seven in the morning
he left with Flierlé, and three leagues from there, arrived at the wood
of Quesnay where his men had passed the night.
The waggon destined for the transportation of the funds had been loaded
on the 5th at Alençon, in the yard of the house of M. Decrès,
receiver-general of the Orne, with five heavy chests containing 33,489
francs, 92 centimes. On the 6th, the carrier, Jean Gousset, employed by
the manager of stage coaches at Alençon, had harnessed three horses to
it, and escorted by two gendarmes had taken the road to Argentan, where
he arrived at five in the evening. He stopped at Point-de-France, where
he had to take a sixth chest containing 33,000 francs, which was
delivered in the evening by the agents of M. Larroc, receiver of
finances. The carriage, carefully covered, remained in the inn yard
during the night. Gousset, who had been drinking, went to and fro
"talking to every one of his charge"; he even called a traveller, M.
Lapeyrière, and winking at the chest that was being hoisted on the
waggon, said: "If we each had ten times as much our fortunes would be
made." He harnessed up at four o'clock on Sunday, the 7th. He had been
given a fourth horse, and three gendarmes accompanied him. They made the
five leagues between Argentan and Falaise rather slowly, arriving about
half past ten. Gousset stopped with Bertaine at the "Cheval Noir,"
where the gendarmes left him; he dined there, and as it was very hot,
rested till three in the afternoon, during which time the waggon stayed
in front of the inn unguarded. It was noticed that the horses were
harnessed three hours before starting, and the conclusion was drawn that
Gousset did not want to arrive before night at Langannerie, where he
would sleep. In fact, he took his time. At a quarter past three he
started, without escort, as all the men of the brigade of Falaise were
employed in the recruiting that took place that day. As he left the
village he chanced to meet Vinchon, gendarme of the brigade of
Langannerie, who was returning home on foot with his nephew, a young boy
of seventeen, named Antoine Morin. They engaged in conversation with the
carrier, who walked on the left of the waggon, and went with him. These
chance companions were in no hurry, and Gousset did not appear to be in
any haste to arrive. At the last houses of the suburbs he offered some
cider; after some hundred yards the gendarme returned the compliment and
they stopped at the "Sauvage." A league further, another stop was made
at the "Vieille Cave." Gousset then proposed a game of skittles, which
the gendarme and Morin accepted. It was nearly seven in the evening when
they passed Potigny. The evening was magnificent and the sun still high
on the horizon; as they knew they would not see another inn until the
next stage was reached, they made a fourth stop there. At last Gousset
and his companions started again; they could now reach Langannerie in
an hour, where they would stop for the night.
* * * * *
The evening before, Mme. Acquet de Férolles, returning to Falaise with
Lefebre, had gone to bed more sick with fatigue than drink; however, she
had returned to Donnay at dawn in the fear that her absence might awaken
suspicion. This Sunday, the 7th June, was indeed the Fête-Dieu, and she
must decorate the wayside altars as she did each year.
Lanoë, who had arrived the evening before from his farm at Glatigny,
worked all the morning hanging up draperies, and covering the walls with
green branches. Mme. Acquet directed the arrangements for the procession
with feverish excitement, filling baskets with rose leaves, grouping
children, placing garlands. Doubtless her thoughts flew from this
flowery fête to the wood yonder, where at this minute the men whom she
had incited waited under the trees, gun in hand. Perhaps she felt a
perverse pleasure in the contrast between the hymns sung among the
hedges and the criminal anxiety that wrung her. Did she not confess
later that in the confusion of her mind she had not feared to call on
God for the success of "her enterprise"?
When, about five o'clock, the procession was at an end, Mme. Acquet went
through the rose-strewn streets to find her confidante, Rosalie Dupont.
Such was her impatience that she soon left this girl, irresistibly drawn
to the road where her own fate and that of her lover were being
decided. Lanoë, who was returning to Glatigny in the evening, was
surprised to meet the châtelaine of La Bijude in a little wood near
Clair-Tizon. She was scarcely a league from the place where the men were
hidden. From her secluded spot she could, with beating heart, motionless
and mute with anguish, hear the noise of shooting, which rung out clear
in the silence of the summer evening. It was exactly a quarter to eight.
* * * * *
The waggon had, indeed, left Potigny at seven o'clock. A little way from
the village, the road, which had been quite straight for six leagues,
descended a low hill at the foot of which is the wood of Quesnay, a low
thicket of hazel, topped by a few oaks. Allain had posted his men along
the road under the branches; on the edge of the wood towards Falaise
stood Flierlé, Le Héricey, and Fleur d'Épine. Allain himself was with
Harel and Coeur-le-Roi, at the end nearest Langannerie. Grand-Charles
and Le Lorault were placed in the middle of the wood at equal distances
from these two groups.
The eight men had waited since midday for the appearance of the
treasure. They began to lose patience and spoke of returning to Aubigny
for supper when they heard the rumbling of the waggon descending the
hill. It came down rapidly, Gousset not having troubled to put on the
brake. They could hear him shouting to the horses. Walking on the left
of the waggon he drove them by means of a long rope; his little dog
trotted beside him. Vinchon and Morin were, for the moment, left behind
by the increased speed of the waggon. The men at the first and second
posts allowed it to pass without appearing; it was now between the two
thickets through which the road ran; in a few minutes it attained the
edge of the wood near Langannerie, when suddenly, Gousset saw a man in a
long greatcoat and top-boots in the middle of the road, with his gun
pointed at him; it was Allain.
"Halt, you rascal!" he cried to the carrier.
Two of his companions, attired only in drawers and shirt, with a
coloured handkerchief knotted round the head, came out of the wood,
shouldered arms and took aim. With a tremendous effort, Gousset, seized
with terror, turned the whole team to the left, and with oaths and blows
flung it on to a country road which crossed the main road obliquely a
little way from the end of the wood. But in an instant the three men
were upon him; they threw him down and held a gun to his head while two
others came out of the wood and seized the horses' heads. The struggle
was short; they tore off Gousset's cravat and bound his eyes with it, he
was searched and his knife taken, then cuffed, pushed into the wood and
promised a ball if he moved.
But Vinchon and Morin, who were behind, had seen the waggon disappear in
the wood. Morin, not caring to join in the scuffle, hurried across the
fields, turned the edge of the wood, and ran towards Langannerie to
inform the gendarmes. Vinchon, on the contrary, drew his sabre and
advanced towards the road, but he had only taken a few steps when he
received a triple discharge from the first post. He fell, with a ball in
his shoulder, and rolled in the ditch, his blood flowing. The men then
hastened to the waggon; they cut the cords of the tarpaulin with
Gousset's knife, uncovered the chests and attacked them with hatchets.
Whilst two of the brigands unharnessed the horses, the others flung the
money, handfuls of gold and crowns, pell-mell into their sacks. The
first one, bursting with silver, was so heavy that it took three men to
hoist it on to the back of a horse; Gousset himself, in spite of his
bandaged eyes, was invited to lend a hand and obeyed gropingly. They
were smashing the second chest when the cry, "To arms!" interrupted
them. Allain rallied his men, and lined them up along the road.
Morin, on arriving at Langannerie had only found the corporal and one
other gendarme there; they mounted immediately and galloped to the wood
of Quesnay. It was almost night when they reached the edge of the wood.
A volley of shots greeted them; the corporal was hit in the leg, and his
horse fell mortally wounded; his companion, who was deaf, did not know
which way to turn. Seeing his chief fall, he thought it best to retreat;
and ran to the hamlet of Quesnay to get help. The noise of the firing
had already alarmed the neighbourhood; the tocsin sounded at Potigny,
Ouilly-le-Tesson and Sousmont; peasants flocked to each end of the wood,
but they were unarmed and dared not advance. Allain had posted five of
his men as advance-guard who fired in the thicket at their own
discretion, and kept the most determined of the enemy at bay. Behind
this curtain of shooters the noise could be heard of axes breaking open
chests, planks torn apart and oaths of the brigands in haste to complete
their pillage. This extraordinary scene lasted nearly an hour. At last,
at a call, the firing ceased, the robbers plunged into the thicket, and
the steps of the heavily-laden horse, urged on by the men, were heard
disappearing on the crossroad.
They took the road to Ussy, with their booty and the carrier Gousset,
still with his eyes bandaged and led by Grand-Charles. They travelled
fast, at night--to avoid pursuit. Less than half a league from Quesnay
the road they followed passed the hamlet of Aisy, on the outskirts of
Sousmont, whose mayor had a château there. He was called M. Dupont
d'Aisy, and had this very evening entertained Captain Pinteville,
commander of the gendarmerie of the district. The party had been broken
up by the distant noise of shooting. M. Dupont at once sent his servants
to give the alarm at Sousmont; in less than an hour he had mustered
thirty villagers and putting himself at their head with Captain
Pinteville he marched towards Quesnay. They had not gone a hundred paces
when they encountered Allain's men, and the fight began. The brigands
kept up a well-sustained fire, which produced no other effect than to
disperse the peasants. Dupont d'Aisy and Captain Pinteville himself
considered it dangerous to continue the struggle against such
determined adversaries; they retired their men, and resolutely turning
their backs to the enemy retreated towards Quesnay.
When they arrived in the wood a crowd was already there; from the
neighbouring villages where the tocsin still sounded, people came, drawn
entirely by curiosity. They laughed at the fine trick played on the
government, they thought the affair well managed, and did not hesitate
to applaud its success. They surrounded the waggon, half-sunk in the
ruts in the road, and searched the little wood for traces of the combat.
The arrival of the mayor and Captain Pinteville restored things to order
somewhat. They had brought lanterns, and in the presence of the
gendarmes who had now arrived in numbers, the peasants collected the
remains of the chests, and replaced in them the coppers that the robbers
had scornfully thrown in the grass. They found the carrier's leather
portfolio containing the two bills of lading, in the thicket, and
learned therefrom that the government had lost a little over 60,000
francs, and in face of this respectable sum, their respect for the men
who had done the deed increased. In the densest part of the wood they
found a sort of hut made of branches, and containing bones, empty
bottles and glasses, and the legend immediately grew that the brigands
had lived there "for weeks," waiting for a profitable occasion. Those
who had taken part in the fight from a distance described "these
gentlemen," who numbered twelve, they said; three wore grey overcoats
and top-boots; another witness had been struck "by the exceeding
smallness of two of the brigands."
At last, the money collected and put in the chests, they harnessed two
horses to the waggon and took it to the mayor's. He was now unsparing of
attention; he did not leave the waggon which was put in his yard, and
locked up the broken chests and money which amounted to 5,404 francs.
And when M. le Comte Caffarelli, préfet of Calvados arrived at dawn, he
was received by Dupont-d'Aisy, and after having heard all the witnesses
and received all information possible, he sent the minister of police
one of the optimistic reports that he prepared with so much assurance.
In this one he informed his Excellency that "after making examination
the shipment had been found intact, except the chests containing the
government money." M. Caffarelli knew to perfection the delicate art of
administrative correspondence and with a great deal of cool water, could
slip in the gilded pill of disagreeable truth.
This model functionary spent the day at Aisy waiting for news; the
peasants and gendarmes scoured the country with precaution, for, since
the night, the legend had grown and it was told, not without fear, how
M. Dupont d'Aisy had courageously given battle to an army of brigands.
About midday the searchers returned leading the four horses which they
had found tied to a hedge near the village of Placy, and poor Gousset
who was found calmly seated in the shade of a tree near a wheat-field.
He said that the band had left him there very early in the morning after
having made him march all night with bandaged eyes. At the end of an
hour and a half, hearing nothing, he had ventured to unfasten the
bandage, and not knowing the country, had waited till some one came to
seek him. He could give no information respecting the robbers, except
that they marched very fast and gave him terrible blows. M. Caffarelli
commiserated the poor man heartily, charged him to take the waggon and
smashed chests back to Caen, then, after having warmly congratulated M.
Dupont d'Aisy on his fine conduct, he returned home.
After the scuffle at Aisy, Allain and his companions had marched in
haste to Donnay, but missed their way. Crossing the village of
Saint-Germain-le-Vasson, they seized a young miller who was taking the
air on his doorstep, and who consented to guide them, though very much
afraid of this band of armed men with heavily-laden wallets. He led them
as far as Acqueville and Allain sent him away with ten crowns. It was
nearly midnight when they reached Donnay; they passed behind the château
where Joseph Buquet was waiting for them and led them to his house. He
and his brother made the eight men enter, enjoined silence, helped them
to empty their sacks into a hole that had been made at the end of the
garden, then gave them a drink. After an hour's rest Allain gave the
signal for departure. He was in haste to get his men out of the
department of Calvados, and shelter them from the first pursuit of
Caffarelli's police. At daybreak they crossed the Orne by the bridge of
La Landelle, threw their guns into a wheat-field and separated after
receiving each 200 francs.
This day, the 8th June, passed in the most perfect calm for the
inhabitants of Donnay. Mme. Acquet did not leave La Bijude. In the
afternoon a tanner of Placy, called Brazard, passed the house and called
to Hébert whom he saw in the garden. He told him that when he got up
that morning he had found four horses tied to his hedge. The gendarmes
from Langannerie had come and claimed them saying "they belonged to the
Falaise-Caen coach which had been attacked in the night by Chouans."
Hébert was much astonished; Mme. Acquet did not believe it; but the
report spread and by evening the news was known to the whole village.
Acquet had remained invisible for a month; his instinct of hatred and
some information slyly obtained, warned him that his wife was working
her own ruin, and he would do nothing to stop her good work. Some days
before, Aumont, his gardener, had remarked one morning that the dew was
brushed off the grass of the lawn, and showed footsteps leading to the
cellar of the château, but Acquet did not seem to attach any importance
to these facts.
He learned from his servant of the robbery of the coach. The next day,
Redet, the butcher of Meslay, said that ten days previously, when he was
passing the ruins of the Abbey of Val "his mare shied, frightened at the
sight of seven or eight men, who came out from behind a hedge;" they
asked him the way to Rouen. Redet, without answering, made off, and as
he told every one of this encounter, Hébert the liegeman of Mme. de
Combray, had instantly begged him not to spread it about. If Acquet had
retained any doubt, this would have satisfied him. He hurried to Meslay
to consult with his friend Darthenay, and the next day, he wrote to the
commandant of gendarmerie inviting him to search the Château of Donnay.
The visit took place on Friday, 12th June, and was conducted by Captain
Pinteville. Acquet offered to guide him, and the search brought some
singular discoveries. Certain doors of this great house, long abandoned,
were found with strong locks recently put on; others were nailed up and
had to be broken in. "In a dark, retired loft that it was difficult to
enter" (Acquet conducted the gendarmes) "a pile of hay still retained
the impress of six men who had slept on it"; some fresh bones, scraps of
bread and meat, and the dirt bore witness that the band had lived there;
some sheets of paper belonging to a memoir printed by Hely de
Bonnoeil, brother of Mme. Acquet were rolled into cartridges and
hidden in a corner under the tiles. They also found the sacks that the
Buquets had hidden there after the theft; in the floor of the cellar a
hole, "two and a half feet square, and of the same depth had been dug to
hold the money;" they had taken the precaution to tear up the flooring
above so that the depôt could be watched from there. The idea of hiding
the treasure here had been abandoned, as we know, in favour of Buquets';
but the discovery was important and Pinteville drew up a report of it.
But things went no further. What suspicion could attach to the owners
of Donnay? The brigands, it is true, had made use of their house, but
there were no grounds for an accusation of complicity in that. Neither
Pinteville nor Caffarelli, who transmitted the report to the minister,
thought of pushing their enquiries any further.
Fouché knew no more about it, but he thought that the affair was being
feebly conducted. It seemed evident that the attempt at Quesnay would
swell the already long list of thefts of public funds, by those who
would forever remain unpunished. Réal, instinctively scenting d'Aché in
the business, remembered Captain Manginot who at the time of Georges
Cadoudal's plot, had succeeded in tracing the stages of the conspirators
between Biville and Paris, and to whom they owed the discovery of the
rôle played by d'Aché in the conspiracy.
Manginot then received an order to proceed to Calvados immediately. On
the 23d June he arrived at Caffarelli's bearing this letter of
introduction: "The skill, the zeal and good fortune of this officer in
these cases, is well known; they were proved in a similar affair, and I
ask you to welcome him as he deserves to be welcomed." The préfet was
quite willing; he knew too well the habits of the Chouans, and their
cleverness in disappearing to have any personal illusions as to the
final result of the adventure, but he said nothing and on the contrary
showed the greatest confidence in the dexterity of a man who stood so
well at court.
Manginot began with a fresh search at Donnay; and, as his reputation
obliged him to be successful, and as he was not unwilling to astonish
the authorities of Calvados by the quickness of his perceptions, he
caused Acquet de Férolles to be arrested. It was he who had first warned
the gendarmes of the sojourn of the brigands at Donnay, and this seemed
exceedingly suspicious; the same day he gave the order to take Hébert.
Several people in the village insinuated that Acquet and Hébert were
irreconcilable enemies and that Manginot was on the wrong track; but the
detective's head was now swelled with importance and he would not draw
back. Following his extravagant deductions he decided that the
complicity of Gousset, convicted of drinking and playing skittles the
whole way, was undoubted, and the poor man was arrested in his village
where he had returned to his wife and children to recover from his
excitement. At last Manginot, evidently animated by his blunders, took
it into his head that Dupont d'Aisy himself might well have kept
Pinteville at dinner and excited the peasants in order to secure the
retreat of the brigands, and issued a warrant against him to the
stupefaction of Caffarelli who thus saw imprisoned all those whose
conduct he had praised, and whom he had given as examples of devotion.
Thus, in a region where he had only to touch, so to say, to catch a
criminal, Captain Manginot was unlucky enough to incarcerate only the
innocent, and to complete the irony, these innocent prisoners made such
a poor face before the court of enquiry that his suspicions were
justified. Acquet was very anxious to denounce his wife, but he would
not speak without certainty and the magistrate before whom he appeared
at Falaise notes that in the course of interrogations "he contradicted
himself; his replies were far from satisfactory, though he arranged them
with the greatest care and reflected long before speaking." At the first
insinuation he made against Mme. de Combray and her daughter, the judge
indignantly silenced him, and sent him well-guarded to Caen where he was
put in close custody. As to Hébert, not wishing to compromise the ladies
of La Bijude to whom he was completely devoted, he scarcely replied to
the questions put to him; all, even to Dupont d'Aisy lent themselves to
the suspicions of Manginot. Sixty guns were found at the mayor's house,
which seemed an excessive number, even for the great sportsman he prided
himself on being, and here again all indications tended to convince
Manginot that he was on the right track.
Mme. Acquet, meanwhile feigned the greatest security. Seeing things
straying from the right way, she might indeed imagine that she was
removed from all danger, and she had besides, other anxieties. The
Chevalier had been waiting in Paris since the 7th of June for the money
he so urgently needed, and as nothing appeared in spite of his
reiterated demands, he decided to come and fetch it himself; he did not
dare, however, to appear near Falaise, so arranged a meeting at Laigle
with Lefebre, earnestly entreating him to bring him all the money he
possibly could. But the Buquets, with whom the 60,000 francs had been
left on the 7th June, obstinately refused to give it up in spite of Mme.
Acquet's entreaties; they had removed the money from their garden and
hidden it in various places which they jealously kept secret. However,
through her influence over Joseph, Mme. Acquet succeeded in obtaining
3,300 francs which she gave the lawyer to take to Le Chevalier, but
Lefebre, as soon as he got hold of the money, declared that he had been
promised 12,000 francs for his assistance, and that he would keep this
on account. He went to meet Le Chevalier at Laigle however, and to calm
his impatience told him that Dusaussay was going to start for Paris
immediately with 60,000 francs which he would give him intact. Mme.
Acquet was desperate; prudence forbade her trying to overcome the
Buquets' obstinacy, and they, in order to keep the money, asserted that
it belonged to the royal exchequer, and they were responsible for it; so
the unhappy woman found that she had committed a crime that the
obstinacy of these rapacious peasants rendered useless. She was ready to
abandon all in order to rejoin Le Chevalier, ready even to expatriate
herself with him, when they heard that Mme. de Combray, hearing rumours
of what had happened in Lower Normandy, had decided to come to Falaise,
to plead the cause of her farmer, Hébert. She had left Tournebut on the
13th July and taken the Caen coach to Evreux.
Mme. Acquet had gone to Langannerie to meet her mother, and when Mme. de
Combray descended from the coach the young woman threw herself into her
arms. As the Marquise seemed rather surprised at this display of feeling
to which she had become unaccustomed, her daughter said in a low voice,
sobbing:
"Save me, mama, save me!"
Mother and daughter resumed the affectionate confidence of former days.
While the horses were being changed and the postillions were taking a
drink in the inn, they seated themselves beneath a tree near the road.
Mme. Acquet made a full confession. She told how her love for Le
Chevalier had led her to join in the affair of June 7th, to keep Allain
and his men, and to hide the stolen money with the Buquets. If it should
be found there she was lost, and it was important to get it from the
Buquets and send it to the leaders of the party for whom it was
intended. She did not dare to mention Le Chevalier this time, but she
argued that for fear of her husband's spies she could neither take the
money to her own house, nor change it at any bankers in Caen and
Falaise; the whole country knew she was reduced to the last expedients.
Mme. de Combray feared no such dangers, and considered that "no one
would be astonished to see 50,000 or 60,000 francs at her disposal." But
she approved less of some other points in the affair, not that she was
astonished to find her daughter compromised in such an adventure, for
how many similar ones had she not helped to prepare in her Château of
Tournebut? Had she not inoculated her daughter with her political
fanaticism in representing men like Hingant de Saint-Maur, Raoul
Gaillard and Saint-Réjant as martyrs? And by what right could she be
severe, when she herself, daughter of the President of the Cour des
Comptes of Normandy, had been ready to join in a theft which, "the
sanctity of the cause," rendered praiseworthy in her eyes? The Marquise
de Combray, without knowing it, was a Jacobite reversed; she accepted
brigandage as the terrorists formerly accepted the guillotine; the
hoped-for end justified the means.
And so she did not pour out reproaches; she grew angry at the mention of
Le Chevalier whom she hated, but Mme. Acquet calmed her with the
assurance that her lover had acted under the express orders of d'Aché
and that everything had been arranged between the two men. As long as
her hero was concerned in the affair, Mme. de Combray was happy to take
a hand. That evening she reached Falaise, and leaving her daughter in
the Rue du Tripot, she asked hospitality from one of her relations, Mme.
de Tréprel. Next morning she sent for Lefebre. Mme. Acquet, before
introducing him, coached him thus, "Say as little as possible about Le
Chevalier, and insist that d'Aché arranged everything." On this ground
Lefebre found Mme. de Combray most conciliating, and he had neither to
employ prayers nor entreaties, to obtain her promise to get the 60,000
francs from the Buquets; "she consented without any difficulty or
adverse opinion; she seemed very zealous and pleased at the turn things
had taken, and offered herself to take the money to Caen, and lodge it
with Nourry, d'Aché's banker." Mme. Acquet here observed that she was
not at liberty to dispose of the funds thus. She had only taken part in
the affair from love, and cared little for the royalist exchequer; she
only cared that her devotion should profit the man she adored, and if
the money was sent to d'Aché, all her trouble would be useless. She
tried to insist, saying that Dusaussay would take the money to the
royalist treasurer in Paris, that Le Chevalier was waiting for it in
order to go to Poitou where his presence was indispensable. But Mme. de
Combray was inflexible on this point; the entire sum should be delivered
to d'Aché's banker, or she would withdraw her assistance. Mme. Acquet
was obliged to yield with a heavy heart, and they began at once to
consider the best means of transporting it. The Marquise sent Jouanne,
the son of the old cook at Glatigny, to tell Lanoë that she wished to
see him at once. Jouanne made the six leagues between Falaise and
Glatigny at one stretch, and returned without taking breath, with Lanoë,
who put him up behind him on his horse. They had scarcely arrived when
Mme. de Combray ordered Lanoë to get a carriage at Donnay and prepare
for a journey of several days. Lanoë objected a little, said it was
harvest time, and that he had important work to finish, but all that
mattered little to the Marquise, who was firm and expected to be obeyed.
Mme. Acquet also insisted saying, "You know that mama only feels safe
when you drive her and that you are always well paid for it." This
decided Lanoë who started for Bijude where he slept that night. Mme. de
Combray did not spare her servants, and distance was not such an
obstacle to those people, accustomed to marching and riding, as it is
nowadays. This fact will help to explain some of the incidents that are
to follow.
On Thursday, July 16th, Lanoë returned to Falaise with a little cart
that a peasant of Donnay had lent him, to which he had harnessed his
horse and another lent him by Desjardins, one of Mme. de Combray's
farmers. The two women got in and started for La Bijude, Lefebre
accompanying them to the suburbs. He arranged a meeting with them at
Caen two days later, and gave them a little plan he had drawn which
would enable them to avoid the more frequented highroad.
Mme. de Combray and her daughter slept that night at La Bijude. The next
day was spent in arguing with the Buquets who did not dare to resist the
Marquise's commands, and at night they delivered, against their will,
two sacks containing 9,000 francs in crowns which she caused to be
placed in the cart, which was housed in the barn. It was impossible to
take more the first time, and Mme. Acquet rejoiced, hoping that the rest
of the sum would remain at her disposal. The Marquise had judged it
prudent to send Lanoë away to the fair at Saint-Clair which was held in
the open country about a league away, and they only saw him again at the
time fixed for their departure on Saturday. He has left an account of
the journey, which though evidently written in a bad temper, is rather
picturesque.
"I returned from the fair," he says, "towards one o'clock in the
afternoon, and while I was harnessing the horses I saw a valise and
night bag in the carriage. Colin, the servant at La Bijude, threw two
bundles of straw in the carriage for the ladies to sit on, and Mme. de
Combray gave me a portmanteau, a package which seemed to contain linen,
and an umbrella to put in the carriage. On the road I made the horses
trot, but Mme. Acquet told me not to go so fast because they didn't want
to arrive at Caen before evening, seeing that they had stolen money in
the carriage. I looked at her, but said nothing, but I said to myself:
'This is another of her tricks; if I had known this before we started I
would have left them behind; she used deceit to compromise me, not being
able to do so openly.' When I reproached her for it some days later she
said: 'I suspected that if I had told you of it, you would not have
gone.' During the journey the ladies talked together, but the noise of
the carriage prevented me from hearing what they said. However, I heard
Mme. Acquet say that this money would serve to pay some debts or to give
to the unfortunate. I also heard her say that Le Chevalier had great
wit, and Mme. de Combray replied that M. d'Aché's wit was keener; that
Le Chevalier had perhaps a longer tongue...."
The itinerary arranged by Lefebre, left the main road at
Saint-Andre-de-Fontenay near the hamlet of Basse-Allemagne; night was
falling when Lanoë's carriage crossed the Orne at the ferry of Athis.
From there they went to Bretteville-sur-Odon in order to enter the town
as if they had come from Vire or Bayeux. The notary had arrived during
the day at Caen, and after having left his horse at the inn at
Vaucelles, he crossed the town on foot and went to meet "the treasure"
on the Vire road. Just as eight was striking he reached the first houses
in Bretteville and was going to turn back, astonished at not meeting the
cart when Mme. Acquet called to him from a window. He entered; Mme. de
Combray and her daughter had stopped there while Lanoë was having one of
the wheels mended. They took some refreshment, rested the horses and set
out again at ten o'clock. Lefebre got in with them and when they arrived
at Granville he got down and paid the duty on the two bundles of straw
that were in the waggon, and then entered the town without further
delay.
By the notary's advice they had decided to take the money to Gélin's
inn, in the Rue Pavée. Gélin was the son-in-law of Lerouge, called
Bornet, whom Le Chevalier sometimes employed, but the waggon was too
large to get into the courtyard of the inn; some troops had been passing
that day and the house was filled with soldiers. They could not stay
there, but had to leave the money there, and while Gélin watched, the
Marquise, uneasy at finding herself in such a place, unable to leave the
yard because the waggon stopped the door, had to assist in unloading it.
Two men were very busy about the waggon, one of them held a dark
lantern; Lefebre, Lerouge and even Mme. Acquet pulled the sacks from the
straw and threw them into the house by a window on the ground floor.
Mme. de Combray seemed to feel her decadence for the first time; she
found herself mixed up in one of those expeditions that she had until
then represented as chivalrous feats of arms, and these by-ways of
brigandage filled her with horror.
"But they are a band of rascals," she said to Lanoë, and she insisted on
his taking her away; she was obliged to pass through the inn filled with
men drinking. At last, outside, without turning round she went to the
Hôtel des Trois Marchands, opposite Notre-Dame, where she usually
stayed.
Mme. Acquet had no such qualms; she supped with the men, and in the
night had a mysterious interview with Allain behind the walls of
Notre-Dame. Where Mme. Acquet slept that night is not known; she only
appeared at the Hôtel des Trois Marchands four days later, where she met
Mme. de Combray who had just returned from Bayeux. In her need of
comfort the Marquise had tried to see d'Aché and find out if it were
true that Allain had acted according to his orders, but d'Aché had
assured his old friend that he disapproved of such vile deeds, and that
"he was still worthy of her esteem." She had returned to Caen much
grieved at having allowed herself to be deceived by her daughter and the
lawyer; she told them nothing of her visit to Bayeux, except that she
had not seen d'Aché and that he was still in England; then, quite put
out, she returned to Falaise in the coach, not wanting to travel with
her daughter. Mme. Acquet, the same day,--Thursday the 23d July--took a
carriage that ran from Caen to Harcourt and got down at Forge-à-Cambro
where Lanoë, who had returned to Donnay on Monday, was waiting, with his
waggon.
As soon as she was seated Lanoë informed her that the gendarmes had gone
to Donnay and searched the Buquets' house, but left without arresting
any one; "a man in a long black coat was conducting them." Mme. Acquet
asked several questions, then told Lanoë to whip up the horses and
remained silent until they reached La Bijude; he observed her with the
corner of his eye, and saw that she was very pale. When they arrived at
the village she went immediately to the Buquets and remained a quarter
of an hour closeted with Joseph. No doubt she was making a supreme
effort to get some money from him; she reappeared with heightened colour
and very excited. "Quick, to Falaise," she said. But Lanoë told her he
had something to do at home, and that his horse could not be always on
the go. But she worried him until he consented to take her.
While the horse was being fed Mme. Acquet went to La Bijude and threw
herself on the bed, fully dressed. The day had been very heavy and
towards evening lightning flashed brightly. About two in the morning
Lanoë knocked on the window and Mme. Acquet appeared, ready to start.
She got up behind him, and they took the road by the forest of
Saint-Clair and Bonnoeil, and when they were going through the wood
the storm burst with extraordinary violence, huge gusts bent the trees,
breaking the branches, the rain fell in torrents, changing the road to
a river; the horse still advanced however, but towards day, when
approaching the village of Noron, Mme. Acquet suddenly felt such violent
indisposition that she fell to the ground in a faint. Lanoë laid her on
the side of the road in the mud. When she came to herself she begged him
to leave her there, and hasten to Falaise and bring back Lefebre; she
seemed to be haunted by the thought of the man in the black overcoat who
had guided the gendarmes at Donnay. Lanoë, in a great fright, obeyed,
but Lefebre could not come before afternoon; at Noron they found Mme.
Acquet in an inn to which she had dragged herself. The poor woman was in
a fever, and almost raving she told Lefebre that she had no money to
give him; that the gendarmes had been to Donnay; that the man who showed
them the way was probably one of Allain's companions, but that she
feared nothing and was going there to bring back the money.
Lefebre tried to calm her, but when he left after half an hour's talk,
she tried Lanoë, begging him to take her back to Donnay; he resisted
strongly, not wanting to hear any more of the affair, but at last he
softened at her despair, but swore that now he had had enough of it, and
would leave her at La Bijude. She agreed to all, climbed on the horse,
and taking Lanoë round the waist as before, her dripping garments
clinging to her shivering form, she started again for Donnay. When
passing Villeneuve, a farm belonging to her brother Bonnoeil she saw a
group of women gesticulating excitedly; the farmer Truffault came up
and in response to her anxious enquiries, replied:
"A misfortune has taken place; the gendarmes have been to the Buquets,
and taken the father, mother and eldest son. Joseph, who hid himself, is
alone and very unhappy."
The farmer added that he had just sent his boy to Falaise to inform Mme.
de Combray of the event. Mme. Acquet got off her horse, drew Truffault
aside and questioned him in a low voice. When she returned to Lanoë she
was as white as a wax candle. "I am lost," she said, "Joseph Buquet will
denounce me."
Then, with a steady look, speaking to herself: "I could also, in my turn
denounce Allain, seeing that he is an outlaw, but where should I say I
had met him?" She seemed most uneasy, not knowing what to do. Then she
hinted that she must go back to Falaise. But Lanoë was inflexible, he
swore he would go no further, and that she could apply to the farmer if
she wanted to. And giving his horse the rein he went off at a trot,
leaving her surrounded by the peasants, who silently gazed in wondering
consternation at the daughter of "their lady" covered with mud,
wild-eyed, her arms swinging and her whole appearance so hopeless and
forlorn as to awaken pity in the hardest heart.
The same evening the lawyer Lefebre, learned on reaching home, that Mme.
de Combray had sent her gardener to ask him to come to her immediately
in the Rue du Tripot. But worn out, he threw himself on his bed and
slept soundly till some one knocked at his door about one in the
morning. It was the gardener again, who was so insistent that Lefebre
decided to go with him in spite of fatigue. He found the Marquise wild
with anxiety. Truffault's boy had told her of the arrest of the Buquets,
and she had not gone to bed, expecting to see the gendarmes appear; her
only idea was to fly to Tournebut and hide herself there with her
daughter; she begged the lawyer to accompany them, and while excitedly
talking, tied a woollen shawl round her head. Lefebre, who was calmer,
told her that he had left Mme. Acquet at Noron in a state of exhaustion,
that they must wait until she was in a condition to travel before
starting, and that it would be impossible to obtain a carriage at this
time of night. But Mme. de Combray would listen to nothing; she gave her
gardener three crowns to go to Noron and tell Mme. Acquet that she must
start immediately for Tournebut by Saint-Sylvain and Lisieux; then
traversing the deserted streets with Lefebre, who stopped at his house
to get the three thousand francs, from the robbery of June 7th, she
reached the Val d'Ante and took the road to Caen.
It was very dark; the storm had ceased but the rain still fell heavily.
The old Marquise continued her journey over the flooded roads, defying
fatigue and only stopping occasionally to make sure she was not
followed. Lefebre, now afraid also, hastened his steps beside her,
bending beneath the weight of his portmanteau filled with crowns.
Neither spoke. The endless road was the same one taken by the waggon
containing the Alençon money on the day of the robbery, and the
remembrance of this rendered their wild night march still more tragic.
It was scarcely dawn when the fugitives crossed the wood of Quesnay; at
Langannerie they left the highroad and crossed by Bretteville-le-Rabet.
It was now broad daylight, barns were opening, and people looked
astonished at this strange couple who seemed to have been walking all
night; the Marquise especially puzzled them, with her hair clinging to
her cheeks, her skirts soaked and her slippers covered with mud. But no
one dared question them.
At six in the morning Mme. de Combray and her companion arrived at
Saint-Sylvain, five good leagues from Falaise. If Mme. Acquet had
succeeded in leaving Noron they ought to meet her there. Lefebre
enquired at the inn, but no one had been there. They waited for two
hours which the lawyer employed in seeking a waggon to go on to Lisieux.
A peasant agreed to take them for fifteen francs paid in advance, and
about eight o'clock, as Mme. Acquet had not arrived they decided to
start. They stopped at Croissanville a little further on, and while
breakfasting, Lefebre wrote to Lanoë telling him to find Mme. Acquet at
once and tell her to hasten to her mother at Tournebut.
The rest of the journey was uneventful. They reached Lisieux at
supper-time and slept there. The next day Mme. de Combray took two
places under an assumed name, in the coach for Evreux, where they
arrived in the evening. The fugitives had a refuge in the Rue de
l'Union with an old Chouan named Vergne, who had been in orders before
the Revolution, but had become a doctor since the pacification. Next day
Mme. de Combray and Lefebre made five leagues from Evreux to Louviers;
they got out before entering the town as the Marquise wished to avoid
the Hôtel du Mouton where she was known. They went by side streets to
the bridge of the Eure where they hired a carriage which took them by
nightfall to the hamlet of Val-Tesson. They were now only a league from
Tournebut which they could reach by going through the woods. But would
they not find gendarmes there? Mme. de Combray's flight might have
aroused suspicion at Falaise, Caen and Bayeux, and brought police
supervision to her house. It was nine in the evening when, after an
hour's walk, she reached the Hermitage. She thought it prudent to send
Lefebre on ahead, and accompanied him to the gate where she left him to
venture in alone. All appeared tranquil in the château, the lawyer went
into the kitchen where he found a scullery maid who called Soyer, the
confidential man, and Mme. de Combray only felt safe when she saw the
latter himself come to open a door into the garden; she then slipped,
without being seen, into her own room.