THE CRISIS.
When the grey dawn, to which so many looked forward, broke slowly over
the waking city, it found on the leads of Froment's tower some pale
faces; perhaps some sinking hearts. That hour, when all life lacks
colour, and all things, the sky excepted, are black to the eye, tries
a man's courage to the uttermost; as the cold wind that blows with it
searches his body. Eyes that an hour before had sparkled over the
wine--for we had sat late and drunk to the King, the Church, the Red
Cockade, and M. d'Artois--grew thoughtful; men who, a little before,
had shown flushed faces, shivered as they peered into the mist, and
drew their cloaks more closely round them; and if the man was there,
who regarded the issue of the day with perfect indifference, he was
not of those near me.
Froment had preached faith, but the faith for the most part was down
in the street. There, I have no doubt, were many who believed, and
were ready to rush on death, or slay without pity. And there may have
been one or two of these with us. But in the main, the men who looked
down with me on Nimes that morning were hardy adventurers, or local
followers of Froment, or officers whose regiments had dismissed them,
or--but these were few--gentlemen, like St. Alais. All brave men, and
some heated with wine; but not Froment only had heard of Favras
hanged, of De Launay massacred, of Provost Flesselles shot in cold
blood! Others beside him could make a guess at the kind of vengeance
this strange new creature, La Nation, might take, being outraged: and
so, when the long-expected dawn appeared at last, and warmed the
eastern clouds, and leaping across the sea of mist which filled the
Rhone valley, tinged the western peaks with rosy light, and found us
watching, I saw no face among all the light fell on, that was not
serious, not one but had some haggard, wan, or careworn touch to mark
it mortal.
Save only Froment's. He, be the reason what it might, showed as the
light rose a countenance not merely resolute, but cheerful. Abandoning
the solitary habit he had maintained all night, he came forward to the
battlements overlooking the town, and talked and even jested, rallying
the faint-hearted, and taking success for granted. I have heard his
enemies say that he did this because it was his nature, because he
could not help it; because his vanity raised him, not only above the
ordinary passions of men, but above fear; because in the conceit of
acting his part to the admiration of all, he forgot that it was more
than a part, and tried all fortunes and ran all risks with as little
emotion as the actor who portrays the Cid, or takes poison in the part
of Mithridates.
But this seems to me to amount to no more than saying that he was not
only a very vain, but a very brave man. Which I admit. No one, indeed,
who saw him that morning could doubt it; or that, of a million, he was
the man best fitted to command in such an emergency; resolute,
undoubting, even gay, he reversed no orders, expressed no fears. When
the mist rolled away--a little after four--and let the smiling plain
be seen, and the city and the hills, and when from the direction of
the Rhone the first harsh jangle of bells smote the ear and stilled
the lark's song, he turned to his following with an air almost joyous.
"Come, gentlemen," he said gaily, and with head erect. "Let us be
stirring! They must not say that we lie close and fear to show
our heads abroad; or, having set others moving, are backward
ourselves--like the tonguesters and dreamers of their knavish
assembly, who, when they would take their King, set women in the front
rank to take the danger also! _Allons_, Messieurs! They brought him
from Versailles to Paris. We will escort him back! And to-day we take
the first step!"
Enthusiasm is of all things the most contagious. A murmur of assent
greeted his words; eyes that a moment before had been dull enough,
grew bright. "_A bas les Traitres!_" cried one. "_A bas le Tricolor!_"
cried another.
Froment raised his hand for silence. "No, Monsieur," he said quickly.
"On the contrary, we will have a tricolour of our own. _Vive le Roi!
Vive la Foi! Vive la Loi! Vivent les Trois!_"
The conceit took. A hundred voices shouted, "_Vivent les Trois!_" in
chorus. The words were taken up on lower roofs and at windows, and in
the streets below; until they passed noisily away, after the manner of
file-firing, into the distance.
Froment raised his hat gallantly. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said. "In
the King's name, in his Majesty's name, I thank you. Before we have
done, the Atlantic shall hear that cry, and La Manche re-echo it! And
the Rhone shall release what the Seine has taken! To Nimes and to you,
all France looks this day. For freedom! For freedom to live--shall
knaves and scriveners strangle her? For freedom to pray--they rob God,
and defile His temples! For freedom to walk abroad--the King of France
is a captive. Need I say more?"
"No! No!" they cried, waving hats and swords. "No! No!"
"Then I will not," he answered hardily. "I will use no more words! But
I will show that here at least, at Nimes at least, God and the King
are honoured, and their servants are free! Give me your escort,
gentlemen, and we will walk through the town and visit the King's
posts, and see if any here dare cry, '_A bas le Roi!_'"
They answered with a roar of assent and menace that shook the very
tower; and instantly trooping to the ladder, began to descend by it to
the roof of the house, and so to the staircase. Sitting on the
battlements of the tower, I watched them pass in a long stream across
the leads below, their hilts and buckles glittering in the sunshine,
their ribbons waving in the breeze, their voices sharp and high. I
thought them, as I watched, a gallant company; the greater part were
young, and all had a fine air; not without sympathy I saw them vanish
one by one in the head of the staircase, by which I had ascended. One
half had disappeared when I felt a touch on my arm, and found Froment,
the last to leave, standing by my side.
"You will stay here, Monsieur," he said, in an undertone of meaning,
his eyes lowered to meet mine; "if the worst happens, I need not
charge you to look to Mademoiselle."
"Worst or best, I will look to her," I answered.
"Thanks," he said, his lip curling, and an ugly light for an instant
flashing in his eyes. "But in the latter case I will look to her
myself. Don't forget, that if I win, we have still to talk, Monsieur!"
"Yet, God grant you may win!" I exclaimed involuntarily.
"You have faith in your swordsmanship?" he answered, with a slight
sneer; and then, in a different tone, he went on: "No, Monsieur, it is
not that. It is that you are a French gentleman. And as such I leave
Mademoiselle to your care without a qualm. God keep you!"
"And you," I said. And I saw him go after the others.
It was then about five o'clock. The sun was up, and the tower-roof,
left silent and in my sole possession, seemed so near the sky, seemed
so bright and peaceful and still, with the stillness of the early
morning which is akin to innocence, that I looked about me dazed. I
stood on a different plane from that of the world below, whence the
roar of greeting that hailed Froment's appearance came up harshly.
Another shout followed and another, that drove the affrighted pigeons
in a circling cloud high above the roofs; and then the wave of sound
began to roll away, moving with an indescribable note of menace
southward through the city. And I remained alone on my tower, raised
high above the strife.
Alone, with time to think; and to think some grim thoughts. Where now
was the sweet union of which half the nation had been dreaming for
weeks? Where the millennium of peace and fraternity to which Father
Benoit, and the Syndics of Giron and Vlais, had looked forward? And
the abolition of divisions? And the rights of man? And the other ten
thousand blessings that philosophers and theorists had undertaken to
create--the nature of man notwithstanding--their systems once adopted?
Ay, where? From all the smiling country round came, for answer, the
clanging of importunate bells. From the streets below rose for answer
the sounds of riot and triumph. Along this or that road, winding
ribbon-like across the plain, hurried little flocks of men--now seen
for the first time--with glittering arms; and last and worst--when
some half-hour had elapsed, and I still watched--from a distant suburb
westward boomed out a sudden volley, and then dropping shots. The
pigeons still wheeled, in a shining, shifting cloud, above the roofs,
and the sparrows twittered round me, and on the tower, and on the roof
below, where a few domestics clustered, all was sunshine and quiet and
peace. But down in the streets, there, I knew that death was at work.
Still, for a time, I felt little excitement. It was early in the day;
I expected no immediate issue; and I listened almost carelessly,
following the train of thought I have traced, and gloomily comparing
this scene of strife with the brilliant promises of a few months
before. But little by little the anxiety of the servants who stood on
the roof below, infected me. I began to listen more acutely; and to
fancy that the tide of conflict was rolling nearer, that the cries and
shots came more quickly and sharply to the ear. At last, in a place
near the barracks, and not far off, I distinguished little puffs of
thin white smoke rising above the roofs, and twice a rattling volley
in the same quarter shook the windows. Then in one of the streets
immediately below me, the whole length of which was visible, I saw
people running--running towards me.
I called to the servants to know what it was.
"They are attacking the arsenal, Monsieur," one answered, shading his
eyes.
"Who?" I said.
But he only shrugged his shoulders and looked out more intently. I
followed his example, but for a time nothing happened; then on a
sudden, as if a door were opened that hitherto had shut off the noise,
a babel of shouts burst out and a great crowd entered the nearer end
of the street below me, and pouring along it with loud cries and
brandished arms--and a crucifix and a little body of monks in the
middle--swirled away round the farthest corner, and were gone. For
some time, however, I could still hear the burthen of their cries, and
trace it towards the barracks, whence the crackle of musketry came at
intervals; and I concluded that it was a reinforcement, and that
Froment had sent for it. After that, chancing to look down, I saw that
half the servants, below me, had vanished, and that figures were
beginning to skulk about the streets hitherto deserted; and I began to
tremble. The crisis had come sooner than I had thought.
I called to one of the men and asked him where the ladies were.
He looked up at me with a pale face. "I don't know, Monsieur," he
answered rapidly; and he looked away again.
"They are below?"
But he was watching too intently to answer, and only shook his head
impatiently. I was unwilling to leave my place on the roof, and I
called to him to take my compliments to Madame St. Alais and ask her
to ascend. It seemed strange that she had not done so, for women are
not generally lacking in the desire to see.
But the man was too frightened to think of any one but himself--I
fancy he was one of the cooks--and he did not move; while his
companions only cried: "Presently, presently, Monsieur!"
At that, however, I lost my temper; and, going to the ladder, I ran
down it, and strode towards them. "You rascals!" I cried. "Where are
the ladies?"
One or two turned to me with a start. "Pardon, Monsieur?"
"Where are the ladies?" I repeated impatiently.
"Ah! I did not understand!" the nearest answered glibly. "Gone to the
church to pray, Monsieur."
"To the church?"
"To be sure. By the Capuchins."
"And they are not here?"
"No, Monsieur," he answered, his eyes straying. "But--what is that?"
And, diverted by something, he skipped nimbly from me, his cheek a
shade paler. I followed him to the parapet, and looked over. The view
was not so wide as from the tower above, but the main street leading
southward could be seen, and it was full of people; of scattered
groups and handfuls, all coming towards us, some running, at an easy
pace, while others walked quickly, four or five abreast, and often
looked behind them.
The servants never doubted what it meant. In a trice the group broke
up. With a muttered, "We are beaten!" they ran pell-mell across the
sunny leads to the head of the staircase, and began to descend. I
waited awhile, looking and fearing; but the stream of fugitives ever
continued and increased, the pace grew quicker, the last comers looked
more frequently behind them and handled their arms; the din of
conflict, of yells, and cries, and shots, seemed to be approaching;
and in a moment I made up my mind to act. The staircase was clear now;
I ran quickly down it as far as the door on the upper floor, by which
I had entered the house that evening before. I tried this, but
recoiled; the door was locked. With a cry of vexation, my haste
growing feverish--for now, in the darkness of the staircase, I was in
ignorance what was happening, and pictured the worst--I went on,
descending round and round, until I reached the cloister-like hall, at
the bottom.
I found this choked with men, armed, grim-faced, and furious; and
beset by other men who still continued to pour in from the street. A
moment later and I should have found the staircase stopped by the
stream of people ascending; and I must have remained on the roof. As
it was, I could not for a minute or two force myself through the
press, but was thrust against a wall, and pinned there by the rush
inwards. Next me, however, I found one of the servants in like case,
and I seized him by the sleeve. "Where are the ladies?" I said. "Have
they returned? Are they here?"
"I don't know," he said, his eyes roving.
"Are they still at the church?"
"Monsieur, I don't know," he answered impatiently; and then seeing, I
think, the man for whom he was searching, he shook me off, with the
churlishness of fear, and, flinging himself into the crowd, was gone.
All the place was such a hurly-burly of men entering and leaving,
shouting orders, or forcing themselves through the press, that I
doubted what to do. Some were crying for Froment, others to close the
doors; one that all was lost, another to bring up the powder. The
disorder was enough to turn the brain, and for a minute I stood in the
heart of it, elbowed and pushed, and tossed this way and that. Where
were the women? Where were the women? The doubt distracted me. I
seized half a dozen of the nearest men, and asked them; but they only
cried out fiercely that they did not know--how should they?--and shook
me off savagely and escaped as the servant had. For all here, with a
few exceptions, were of the commoner sort. I could see nothing of
Froment, nothing of St. Alais or the leaders, and only one or two of
the gallants who had gone with them.
I do not think that I was ever in a more trying position. Denise might
be still at the church and in peril there; or she might be in the
streets exposed to dangers on which I dare not dwell; or, on the other
hand, she might be safe in the next room, or upstairs; or on the roof.
In the unutterable confusion, it was impossible to know or learn, or
even move quickly; my only hope seemed to be in Froment's return, but
after waiting a minute, which seemed a lifetime, in the hope of seeing
him, I lost patience and battled my way through the press to a door,
which appeared to lead to the main part of the house.
Passing through it, I found the same disorder ruling; here men,
bringing up powder from the cellars, blocked the passage; there others
appeared to be rifling the house. I had little hope of finding those
whom I sought below stairs; and after glancing this way and that
without result, I lighted on a staircase, and ascending quickly to the
second floor, hastened to Denise's room. The door was locked.
I hammered on it madly and called, and waited, and listened, and
called again; but I heard no sound from within; convinced at last. I
left it and tried the nearest doors. The two first were locked also,
and the rooms as silent; the third and fourth were open and empty. The
last I entered was a man's.
The task was no long one, and occupied less than a minute. But all the
time, while I rapped and listened and called, though the corridor in
which I moved was quiet as death and echoed my footsteps, the house
below rang with cries and shouts and hurrying feet; and I was in a
fever. Madame might be on the roof. I turned that way meaning to
ascend. Then I reflected that if I climbed to it I might find the
staircase blocked when I came to descend again; and, cursing my folly
for leaving the hall--simply because my quest had failed--I hurried
back to the stairs, and dashed recklessly down them, and, stemming as
well as I could the tide of people that surged and ebbed about the
lower floor, I fought my way back to the hall.
I was just in time. As I entered by one door Froment entered by the
other, with a little band of his braves; of whom several, I now
observed, wore green ribbons--the Artois colours. His great stature
raising him above the crowd of heads, I saw that he was wounded; a
little blood was running down his cheek, and his eyes shone with a
brilliance almost of madness. But he was still cool; he had still so
much the command, not only of himself, but of those round him, that
the commotion grew still and abated under his eye. In a moment men who
before had only tumbled over and embarrassed one another, flew to
their places; and, though the howling of a hostile mob could plainly
be heard at the end of the street, and it was clear that he had fallen
back before an overwhelming force, resolution seemed in a moment to
take the place of panic, and hope of despair.
Standing on the threshold, and pointing this way, and that, with a
discharged pistol which he held in his hand, he gave a few short,
sharp orders for the barricading of the door, and saw them carried
out, and sent this man to one post, and that man to another. Then, the
crowd, which had before cumbered the place, melting as if by magic, he
saw me forcing my way to him. And he beckoned to me.
If he played a part, then let me say, once for all, he played it
nobly. Even now, when I guessed that all was lost, I read no fear and
no envy in his face; and in what he said there was no ostentation.
"Get out quickly," he muttered, in an undertone, forestalling by a
hasty gesture the excited questions I had on my lips, "through yonder
door, and by the little postern at the foot of the other staircase. Go
by the east gate, and you will find horses at the St. Genevieve
outside. It is all over here!" he added, wringing my hand hard, and
pushing me towards the door.
"But Mademoiselle?" I cried; and I told him that she was not in the
house.
"What?" he said, pausing and looking at me, with his face grown
suddenly dark. "Are you mad? Do you mean that she has gone out?"
"She is not here," I answered. "I am told that she went to the church
with Madame St. Alais, and has not returned."
"That beldam!" he exclaimed, with a terrible oath, and then, "God help
them!" he said--twice. And after a moment of silence, meeting my eyes
and reading the horror in them, he laughed harshly. "After all, what
matter?" he said recklessly. "We shall all go together! Let us go like
gentlemen. I did what I could. Do you hear that?"
He held up his hand, as a roar of musketry shook the house; and he
gave an order. The small windows had been stopped with paving stones,
the door made solid with the wall behind it; and daylight being shut
out, lamps had been lighted, which gave the long whitewashed,
stone-groined room a strange sombre look. Or it was the grim faces I
saw round me had that effect.
"I am afraid that the St. Alais are cut off in the Arenes," he said
coolly. "And they are not enough to man the walls. Those cursed
Cevennols have been too many for us. As for our friends--it is as I
expected; they have left me to die like a bull in the ring. Well, we
must die goring."
But in the midst of my admiration of his courage a kind of revulsion
seized me. "And Denise?" I said, grasping his arm fiercely. "Are we to
leave her to perish?"
He looked at me, his lip curling. "True," he said, with a sneering
smile. "I forgot. You are not of us."
"I am thinking of her!" I cried, raging. And in that moment I hated
him.
But his mood changed while he looked at me. "You are right, Monsieur,"
he said, in a different tone. "Go! There may be a chance; but the
church is by the Capuchins, and those dogs were baying round it when
we fell back. They are ten to one, or--still there may be a chance,"
he continued with decision. "Go, and if you find her, and escape, do
not forget Froment of Nimes."
"By the postern?" I said.
"Yes--take this," he answered; and abruptly drawing a pistol from his
pocket, he forced it on me. "Go, and I must go too. Good fortune,
Monsieur, and farewell. And you, bark away, you dogs!" he continued
bitterly, addressing the unconscious mob. "The bull is on foot yet,
and will toss some of you before the ring closes!"