THE CITIZENESS TEUTCH
The citizeness Teutch, a fresh, fat Alsatian, thirty or thirty-five
years of age, felt an affection almost maternal for the travellers
Providence sent her--an affection which was doubly strong when the
travellers were as young and pretty as was the boy now sitting beside
the kitchen fire, where, for that matter, he was the only one. So,
hastening toward him, and as he still shivered, holding out his hands
and feet to the blaze, she said: "Oh, the dear little fellow! What makes
him shiver so, and why is he so pale?"
"Hang it, citizeness," said Coclès, with his hoarse laugh, "I can't tell
you exactly; but I think he shivers because he is cold, and that he is
pale because he nearly fell over the guillotine. He wasn't acquainted
with the machine, and it seems to have had quite an effect upon him.
What fools children are!"
"Be quiet, you idiot!"
"Thanks, citizeness; that's my _pourboire_, I suppose."
"No, my friend," said Charles, drawing a little purse from his pocket
and handing him a small coin, "here is your _pourboire_."
"Thanks, citizen," said Coclès, lifting his hat with one hand and
holding out the other for the money. "The deuce! white money; so there
is still some left in France? I thought that it was all done for; but
now I see, as citizen Tétrell says, that that is just a report started
by the aristocrats."
"Come, get along to your horses," said citizeness Teutch, "and leave us
alone."
Coclès went out grumbling. Madame Teutch sat down, and, in spite of
some slight opposition on the part of Charles, she took him on her knee.
Although, as we have said, he was nearly fourteen years old, he did not
look more than ten or eleven.
"See here, my little friend," said she, "what I am going to tell you now
is for your own good. If you have any silver, you must not show it. Have
it changed for paper money; paper money having a forced currency, and a
gold louis being worth five hundred francs in assignats, you will not
lose anything, and will not risk being suspected as an aristocrat."
Then, changing the subject, she said: "How cold his hands are, the poor
little fellow."
And she held his hands out to the fire, as if he had been a child.
"And now what shall we do next?" she said. "A little supper?"
"Oh, as for that, madame, no, thank you; we dined at Erstein, and I am
not at all hungry. I would rather go to bed, for I don't think I can get
quite warm until I am in my bed."
"Very well; then we will warm your bed; and when you are in it we will
give you a good cup of--what? Milk or broth?"
"Milk, if you please."
"Milk, then. Poor child, you were only a nursling yesterday, and here
you are running about alone like a grown man. Ah! these are sad times!"
And she picked Charles up as if he had been a baby indeed. Placing him
in a chair she went to the keyboard to see what room she could give him.
"Let's see! 5, that's it. No! the room is too large and the window
doesn't shut tight; the poor child would be cold. 9! No, that is a room
with two beds. 14! That will suit him; a nice little room with a good
bed hung with curtains to keep out the draughts, and a pretty little
fireplace that does not smoke, with an infant Jesus over it; that will
bring him good luck. Gretchen! Gretchen!"
A beautiful Alsatian, about twenty years old, dressed in the graceful
costume of the country, which resembles somewhat that worn by the women
of Arles, came quickly at this summons.
"What is it, mistress?" she asked in German.
"I want you to get No. 14 ready for this little cherub; choose some fine
dry sheets while I go and get him some milk porridge."
Gretchen lighted a candle and started on her errand. Then citizeness
Teutch returned to Charles.
"Do you understand German?" she asked.
"No, madame; but if I stay long in Strasbourg, as I expect to, I hope to
learn it."
"Do you know why I gave you No. 14?"
"Yes, I heard what you were saying in your monologue."
"Goodness gracious! my monologue. What's that?"
"That, madame, is not a French word. It is derived from two Greek
words--_monos_, which means alone, and _logos_, which signifies to
speak."
"My dear child, do you know Greek at your age?"
"A little, madame. I have come to Strasbourg to learn more."
"You have come to Strasbourg to learn Greek?"
"Yes, with M. Euloge Schneider."
Madame Teutch shook her head.
"Oh, madame! he knows Greek as well as Demosthenes," said Charles,
thinking that Madame Teutch doubted his future professor's knowledge.
"I don't say he doesn't. But I do say, that no matter how well he knows
it, he won't have time to teach you."
"Why, what does he do?"
"You ask me that?"
"Certainly, I ask you."
"He cuts off heads," she said, lowering her voice.
Charles trembled. "He--cuts--off--heads?" he repeated.
"Didn't you know that he is the public prosecutor? Ah! my poor child,
your father has selected a strange master for you."
The boy remained thoughtful for an instant. Then he asked: "Was it he
who cut off Mother Raisin's head to-day?"
"No, that was the Propagande."
"What is the Propagande?"
"A society for the propagation of revolutionary ideas. Each one cuts off
heads on his own account: Citizen Schneider as public prosecutor,
Saint-Just as the people's representative, and Tétrell as the leader of
the Propagande."
"One guillotine is not much for so many people," observed the boy, with
a smile which was beyond his years.
"But each one has his own!"
"Surely, my father did not know that when he sent me here," murmured the
boy. He reflected an instant; then, with a firmness that indicated
precocious courage, he added: "Well! since I am here I shall remain."
Then, passing to another train of thought, he said: "You remarked,
Madame Teutch, that you had given me No. 14 because it was a small room,
and the bed had curtains, and the chimney did not smoke."
"And for still another reason, my pretty boy."
"What is it?"
"Because you will find a young companion in No. 15, just a trifle older
than you, whom you may be able to divert."
"Is he sad?"
"Oh! very sad. He is only fifteen, but he is already a little man. He is
here on a sorrowful errand. His father, who was general-in-chief of the
army of the Rhine before Pichegru, has been accused of treason. Just
think, he lodged here, the poor dear man! From all that I can gather he
is no more guilty than you or I; but he is a ci-devant, and you know
they don't trust them. Well, as I was saying, this young man is here for
the purpose of copying documents which may prove his father's
innocence. He is a good son, as you see, and he works at his task from
morning till night."
"Then I can help him," said Charles; "I write a good hand."
"Now, that's what I call a good friend," and in her enthusiasm, Madame
Teutch embraced her guest.
"What is his name?" asked Charles.
"Citizen Eugene."
"But Eugene is only his first name."
"Why, of course, and he has another name, a very funny name. Wait, his
father was Marquis--wait--"
"I am waiting, Madame Teutch, I am waiting," said the boy with a laugh.
"That's only a manner of speaking: you know very well what I mean--a
name like what they put on the backs of horses. Harness--Beauharnais;
that's it! Eugene de Beauharnais. But I guess that it's on account of
that _de_ that they call him plain citizen Eugene."
This conversation reminded the boy of what Tétrell had told him. "By the
way, Madame Teutch," he said, "you must have two commissioners from
Besançon in your house."
"Yes, they came to reclaim your compatriot, the adjutant-general
Perrin."
"Will they give him to them?"
"Oh! he has done better than wait for the decision of Saint-Just."
"What has he done?"
"He escaped last night."
"And he hasn't been caught again?"
"No, not yet."
"I am glad of that. He was a friend of my father's, and I was very fond
of him also."
"Don't boast of that here."
"And what about my two compatriots?"
"Messieurs Ballu and Dumont?"
"Yes, why did they stay, since the man they came to rescue has
escaped?"
"He is to be tried for contumacy, and they expect to defend him in his
absence as they would have done had he been here."
"Ah!" murmured the child, "now I understand citizen Tétrell's advice."
Then he said aloud: "Can I see them to-night?"
"Who?"
"Citizens Dumont and Ballu."
"Certainly you can see them if you wish to wait, but they have gone to
the club called the 'Rights of Man,' and will not be home until two in
the morning."
"I can't wait for them, I am too tired," replied the boy. "But you can
give them a note from me when they come in, can't you?"
"Of course."
"To them alone, into their own hands?"
"To them alone, into their own hands."
"Where can I write it?"
"In the office, if you are warm now."
"I am."
Madame Teutch took a lamp from the table and carried it to a desk placed
in a little closet similar to the ones used in aviaries. The boy
followed her. There, upon a slip of paper bearing the stamp of the
hotel, he wrote as follows: "A fellow-countryman, who knows on good
authority that you are in immediate danger of being arrested, begs you
to leave for Besançon at once."
Then he folded the note, sealed it and handed it to Madame Teutch.
"But you have not signed it!" exclaimed the hostess.
"That is not necessary. You can tell them who sent it."
"I won't fail to do so."
"If they are still here to-morrow morning, don't let them go until I
have seen them."
"Don't worry."
"There! that's finished," said Gretchen, coming in with a clatter of
sabots.
"Is the bed made?" asked Madame Teutch.
"Yes, mistress," replied Gretchen.
"And the fire lighted?"
"Yes."
"Then heat the warming-pan and show citizen Charles to his room. I am
going to make his porridge."
Citizen Charles was so tired that he followed Gretchen and the
warming-pan without a word. Ten minutes after he was in bed Madame
Teutch entered his room with the milk porridge in her hand. She forced
Charles, who was already half asleep, to drink it, gave him a little tap
on each cheek, tucked in the sheets in a maternal fashion, bade him
good-night, and went out carrying the light with her.
But the wishes of good Madame Teutch were only granted in part, for at
six o'clock in the morning all the guests in the Hôtel de la Lanterne
were awakened by the sound of voices and arms; the butt-ends of muskets
clashed noisily upon the ground, while hasty steps ran through the
corridors and doors were opened and shut with a bang.
The noise awakened Charles and he sat up in bed.
At the same moment his room was filled with light and noise. Members of
the police force, accompanied by gendarmes, filed in, pulled the boy
roughly out of bed, asked his name, his business in Strasbourg, and how
long he had been there; searched under the bed, looked in the
chimney-piece, fumbled in the closet, and went out as suddenly as they
had come in, leaving the boy standing in the middle of the room, half
naked and wholly bewildered.
It was evident that this was one of the domiciliary visits so common at
that time, but that the new arrival was not the object of it. The latter
therefore decided that the best thing he could do would be to go back to
bed, after shutting the door that led into the corridor, and to sleep
again if that were possible.
This resolution taken and carried out, he had scarcely drawn up the
sheets, when the door opened to give entrance to Madame Teutch,
coquettishly clad in a white nightgown, and carrying a lighted candle
in her hand. She stepped softly, and opened the door without any noise,
making a sign as she did so to Charles--who was leaning on his elbow
looking at her with the utmost astonishment--not to speak. He, already
impressed with the dangers of the life that had opened to him the night
before, obeyed her and remained silent.
Citizeness Teutch closed the door leading to the corridor behind her
with the utmost care, then, placing her candle on the chimney-piece, she
took a chair, and, still with the same precautions, seated herself
beside the boy's bed.
"Well, my little friend," she said, "I suppose you were very much
frightened?"
"Not very much, madame," replied Charles, "for I knew the men were not
seeking me."
"Nevertheless, it was high time that you warned your compatriots."
"Then the men were looking for them?"
"Themselves! Fortunately they came in about two o'clock, and I gave them
your note. They read it over twice, then they asked me who had written
it, and I told them that it was you, and who you were. After that they
consulted together for a few moments, and finally said: 'Well, well, we
must be off!' And they immediately set to work to pack their trunks, and
sent Sleepy-head to take places for them in the Besançon diligence.
Fortunately there were two left, so they started at five o'clock this
morning; indeed, to make sure that they should not lose their places,
they left here at four. They had been on their way to Besançon over an
hour when the guards knocked on the door in the name of the law. But,
just think, they were stupid enough to lose the note you wrote them, and
the police have found it."
"Oh! that makes no difference; it was not signed."
"Yes, but as it was written on the stamped hotel paper they came back to
ask me who had written it."
"The devil!"
"Of course you understand that I would rather tear out my heart than
tell them. Poor dear, they would have taken you away. I said that when
travellers asked for paper we sent it up to their rooms, and as there
were some sixty travellers in the house, it would be impossible for me
to know who had written it. They threatened to arrest me, and I told
them I was quite ready to follow them, but that that would do them no
good, as it was not I whom citizen Saint-Just had bade them arrest. They
recognized the truth of my argument, and went away saying, 'Very well,
very well, some day!' I answered, 'Search!' and they are searching! Only
I came to warn you and to advise you to deny everything like the devil
himself, when they question you, if you are accused."
"When we get to that point I shall see what to do; in the meantime,
thank you very much, Madame Teutch."
"Ah! and a last bit of advice, my little dear. When we are alone call me
Madame Teutch as much as you please, but before people do not fail to
call me Citizeness Teutch. I do not say that Sleepy-head would be
capable of treachery; but he is a fanatic, and when fools are fanatics I
never trust them."
And with this axiom, which indicated at once her prudence and
perspicacity, Madame Teutch rose, extinguished the candle, which was
still burning on the chimney-piece, although the dawn had come while she
was there, and went out.