THE ABBE IS TERRIBLY PERPLEXED.
Further surprises of a bewildering kind awaited our abbe in the
capital, which blurred the growing clearness of his sky. The temporary
tranquillity of Touraine had deceived him, for events had been passing
in other parts of France of gravest import, of which hitherto he was
unaware. The scum of the earth had in the general upheaval risen, as
he feared, to the surface, and emitted nauseous savours.
Names new to him were in every mouth, and, the last doubts swept away,
he saw with concern for his own safety that the ship of state, guided
by such agitators as he saw around, was predestined to disaster. Urged
by curiosity, he attended the meetings of new-fangled clubs, and was
amazed at the language used there--words which a couple of years ago
would have jeopardized the heads of the speakers. He read the _Ami du
Peuple_, a popular journal edited by one, Marat, which openly
advocated regicide; and became acquainted with a forbidding person of
greenish complexion and smooth aspect whom men called Robespierre.
Were these ever to obtain mastery in the confusion, there were dark
days in store for France, much tribulation for scions of nobility.
Their majesties were still residing at the Tuileries, but how draggled
was the royal ermine! The queen dared not to look out of a window for
fear of insult. Stepping, on one occasion, into an inner court to
breathe some air, the soldier on guard shook his fist at her and
courteously declared how pleased he would be to have her head upon his
bayonet. Anarchy and crime marched hand in hand, no longer keeping in
the shadow; and the worst of all was that the movement Pharamond had
been watching showed signs--as by this time the blindest of moles
might perceive--of being no transient one, which interference from
without might quell. A mighty nation had risen in its strength to
protest against intolerable abuses, and so many villains and madmen
had risen in wild crusade against things established, that no wonder
it lost its senses. True, a good proportion of villains and madmen had
already gone under in the conflict, having devoured each other
piecemeal; but as these disappeared others, every bit as vile, arose
to fill their places.
The long threatened collision with other nations was by this time a
fact. The country was formally declared to be in danger. All the
remaining property of those who had fled was seized in obedience to an
edict promulgated some time since, to defray the expenses of the
conflict.
The first act, and one of marked significance, dictated to the abbe by
caution, was a change of garb, for in April, when religious
communities were suppressed, the wearing of ecclesiastical costumes
was prohibited. When religion topples, chaos shows its face.
Seeing what he saw on all sides, Pharamond might well be anxious, and
look forward with interest to the reading of de Breze's will. Within
its parchment folds lay the key of the future, for upon the conditions
expressed in the document hung the fortune of the party, and he could
not but feel serious misgivings with regard to inconvenient
stipulations. He had been wrong in supposing that the storm could be
weathered at Lorge; of that all he beheld in Paris spoke with
eloquence. Sooner or later, every noble in the land would be compelled
to emigrate, or gravely risk his life. It was merely a question of how
much the sooner or the later their party must join the exodus.
It was a fortunate thing that de Breze long ago should have deposited
the bulk of the money bags in Necker's bank at Geneva. The Chateau of
Lorge must be left to its fate. It really mattered little, since when
provided with means, palaces will spring up at our bidding on eligible
spots. It was essential to learn without delay whether he had left his
fortune to the marquise absolutely, or vested it, under care of
trustees, for her benefit. In the latter case she was safe, for it
would be necessary to be civil to her always, which would be
fatiguing; in the former, she must be cajoled to leave the country
with the brothers, for some quiet place, where she could be skilfully
moulded to their wishes. But what if, for some whimsy, she refused, or
if there were special stipulations which would interfere with a
flitting? After that artful trick of the clandestine letter there was
no trusting her apparent openness. Well, well, there was no use in
idle speculation. It was a most lucky circumstance, in any case, that
her only protector should be dead.
M. Galland read the will to the brothers in the absence of the
heiress, for she was too much overcome by her loss to care about the
provisions of the testament; and Clovis raged inwardly the while, for
the solicitor had a dubious way of glancing from one to the other of
the three, which could hardly be called respectful. The effect of the
reading on the auditors was curiously different. The chevalier blinked
and smiled, as if he scarcely understood; the abbe, not displeased,
nodded politely from time to time, and purred out his satisfaction;
Clovis had much ado to conceal his disappointment.
The property was left to the marquise absolutely, the will being a new
one, signed a few hours before death. It was worded with extreme care,
so that the entire inheritance should be at her own disposal, out of
reach of Clovis as of others. This to clever Pharamond seemed a small
matter, for had not the lady shown in the past that she was
indifferent to dross, and would it not be an amusing bit of diplomacy
to direct her as to its disposal? There were no vexatious
stipulations: so far, well; and the nimble mind of the abbe began
straightway to erect new card-castles for the housing of the coveted
money bags. Clovis was exasperated, which was a good point that might
be played on with advantage later. It was evident that his vanity was
touched on the raw, for, filled as he was with deep resentment, it
smouldered all the more fiercely in that he was ashamed to show it.
Was his spouse to nip his nose with the tongs for the rest of his
natural life? Was he to be an obedient serf who could not touch a
stiver without her express consent? At the time of his marriage he was
not troubled on the subject, because the money being the marechal's it
was necessary, for the time being, to submit to his crotchety but not
illiberal ways. But now that he was dead? The husband was to bend
beneath the yoke, to be under the thumb of this wife of his, who had
shown recently that she could assert herself, and who would, of
course, now that she knew her power and disliked her spouse, use it to
oppress and injure him.
As the trio walked home from M. Galland's office, the usually dreamy
marquis was roused to a pitch of ire which Pharamond fanned into a
flame.
"My poor fellow," he said, "I bleed for you, but we must make the best
of a bad job. Be civil to her, always civil, and she will let you dip
into her purse."
"Let me, indeed!" growled Clovis, in dudgeon.
This was just where the tongs pinched most painfully. His olfactory
organ still tingled with the tweaking which it received in the matter
of the affinity's expulsion, and now he was exhorted to sit down
meekly and extend his nose to the torturer.
"I suppose," he cried, in his vexation, "that each time I require a
new pair of breeches I must beg her, on my bare knees, to sign the
order."
Splendid! The abbe was delighted, for this was quite the mental
condition in which he wished to see his brother. If the fortune had
been left in the hands of the husband, as would have been proper, the
tactics of the astute one would have been mapped out with simple
clearness. He would have exerted his power over the marquis to obtain
his share of the spoil. But with one to whom intrigue was as the
breath of life, so humdrum a way of settling business could not find
favour. If we would break up a bundle of sticks, we untie the string
that binds them and operate separately upon each. Was it not possible
finally to stop personal communication between the husband and the
wife, and establish himself as go-between, availing himself of
opportunities? The further he kept them apart the greater his own
influence would be, and, as things were, it might soon be of the
greatest importance to establish a firm authority. To this end,
therefore, he patted his fuming brother on the shoulder with
affectionate familiarity.
"Come, come!" he laughed. "It is only silly children who quarrel with
their bread and butter. The proceedings of the marechal were malignant
and preposterous. Curb your feelings, and bury your chagrin deep down,
and never let her guess your most righteous indignation. You shall not
be so far degraded if I can help it, as to have to sue in person for
money. She likes and trusts me. Let me be your _homme d'affaires_, and
act as mediator between you."
Clovis was grateful for being thus saved from a humiliating position,
and Gabrielle tacitly agreed to the arrangement without reflecting
much upon the subject. She naturally shrank from too frequent converse
with the man whom she had ceased to love.
"What he wants for his pleasures, he can have, and welcome," she said,
with a sad smile; "but he must not be unduly extravagant. I am going
to blossom out into a terrible woman of business for the sake of
Victor and Camille. When they come of age they shall have cause to
bless me for my thrift."
A woman of business? That would never do. But there was no danger of
it. The charming lady was not endowed with business capacities. This
infant-worship of hers was rather tiresome. Would it lead to
mortifying complications? _Not_ if the sensitive instrument of
her character was played upon with caution. To think that that
never-sufficiently-to-be-execrated Aglae should have been such a fool
as to try and strike at her through the adored cherubs--apples of the
maternal eyes!
Well, that Marplot was well out of the road, and the abbe was pleased
to be quit of so deceitful a coadjutor. He took the earliest
opportunity to sound the marquise as to future plans. To his way of
thinking it behoved the family to make quietly for Geneva, there to
rejoin the money bags, and it would be well to find out, if, in her
new capacity, she proposed to put down her foot. He accordingly
remarked one day that Paris was a seething caldron, out of which it
would be prudent to escape.
"No," replied Gabrielle, quietly, "I have no intention of leaving at
present; my place is here, and I am no poltroon. My mother wants me,
and so does the queen; and there is much business to arrange with M.
Galland. The little ones are happy at Lorge with Toinon, where we will
go and see them later."
"But Lorge may be burnt over our heads," objected Pharamond. "Excuse
me; but you fail to grasp the situation, which is much more serious
than you suppose."
"I shall certainly not leave France," returned Gabrielle, with
decision. "No one will hurt us in Touraine, for we are beloved and
respected, and the hearts of the people shall be our bulwarks."
This was rather a bad beginning to the newly-inaugurated regime. It
was unwelcomely manifest that the foot was down. She had never
mentioned her husband or referred to his possible desires. That was
significant. Pshaw! she was a woman who was made to lean on others,
and just now she was supported by the queen, the family solicitor, and
other meddlesome advisers, and was thereby induced to assume an
independence which was foreign to her nature. So she was bent on
returning to Lorge? Well and good, the sojourn must be brief.
The temporary props being left behind, others would have to be
supplied--by him. Pressure could be brought to bear within the walls
of the grim chateau, and so soon as it should be urgent to flit, why,
then there should be a flitting. For the present she was mistress of
the situation, and till a change could be brought about, must have her
way unchallenged.
As for Clovis, with much spare time upon his hands, his idle hours
were spent in brooding and regret, and the yearning that besets
humanity to have things other than they are. He was both fascinated
and disgusted by the scenes that passed around him, episodes which
served to increase the peevishness due to private worries.
He was haunted by the idea that if Gabrielle had refrained from
writing that letter, the marechal would not have so disposed his
property as to secure it against his son-in-law. But that piece of sly
impertinence on the part of the lady who bore his name had put
everything agog. But for her all apprehensions might ere this have
been removed. He would have been independent; have betaken himself and
the magic tub to some other land under the guidance of the dear
affinity; have escaped from the turmoil of politics, the noisy babble
of miscreants and cutthroats; be enjoying in peace the applause and
serenity which go with success in science. Instead of that, here was
he, the Marquis de Gange, kicking his heels in a capital which
resembled in its wild proceedings the mental phantasmagoria that
follows indigestion, deprived even of the consoling presence of her
who knew how to comfort him.
Pharamond was all very well in his way, always obliging and cheery,
but somehow or other his sweetness left a taste in the mouth that was
bitter, even acrid. How this should be Clovis was at a loss to
comprehend, for there was no doubt that the abbe was sincerely sorry
for his brother's woeful plight, and did all that in him lay to prune
the thorns that pricked him. As Clovis meditated, topics were ever
cropping up which he longed to discuss with the governess; but, alas,
alas! thanks to the insane jealousy of a most annoying wife, the
charmer was gone--her place knew her no more!
To brood over the halcyon days which are gone by is conducive to
snappishness, and, after a chewing of the cud, to chronic sullenness
and gnawing discontent. Sometimes the marquis would strive to rouse
himself from dismal reverie, and force himself to take interest in
what was passing; but the contemplation thereof only led to further
disapproval, for he found himself in company that revolted him. To
think that he, a noble of high rank, should find himself cheek by jowl
with the low, dirty, foul-mouthed scribbler, whose name was Marat!
People's friend, forsooth! If a wolf could write a journal, the brute
could not raven more thirstily for blood. Blood--not in drops from a
single breast, nor even in a river from the slaughter of families. He
howled for the crimson liquor in the profusion of an ocean from the
instinctive love of it which impels the tiger to rend his mangled
victim after his hunger is appeased. Then to have to be civil to that
dandified Robespierre, whom instinct whispered was one of the coming
men--one whose talents were insignificant and oratory wretched, but
who plodded ahead to his goal with a passionless undeviating pitiless
perseverance that was appalling; one who boasted with apathetic
cruelty that to gain a point the immolation of a generation was as
nothing; who was already clamouring for the sacrifice of the royal
family, and of all who were tainted with nobility.
To visit the palace was to be distracted with indignant pity. Though
the son of St. Louis still ate off silver plate, the most elaborate
precautions were taken to secure him against poison. The wine he
drank, the food he ate, was introduced secretly by devoted friends.
Not a scrap passed his lips that was supplied from the royal kitchens.
Things had gone so far that there was no safety--as the hapless king
had realized on the eve of the Varennes disaster--but in flight. His
friends in Paris could be of little service, for he was as close a
prisoner in the gilded Tuileries as the felon in his cell--in a worse
plight than the convicted assassin in his jail, whom the rabble were
forbidden to persecute.
Clovis could perceive as clearly now as Pharamond that so acute a
situation could not last. This was a state of crisis which should have
nearly attained its apogee, and which promised to result in
catastrophe. And here was the Gange family lingering on in the most
undesirable manner instead of making itself scarce, and skipping out
of danger. As we know, Clovis was not too brave, and preferred
scientific to military triumphs. If other nobles viewed the situation
from a long way off, why should not he also? What was it to him that
the continued outpouring of landholders had unhinged the public mind,
and that the exodus of those who should have rallied round their
monarch was indeed the greatest cause of the miseries that loomed
ahead? By deserting their native land at the most critical period of
its history, the French nobility cast a stain on their order, which
may never be wiped out. At this time, no less than a hundred thousand
of the most influential class had turned their backs upon their
country!
The marquis exhorted and implored his brother to speak to Gabrielle,
to beg her to be sensible and go, before it was too late. With perfect
truth (for once) Pharamond declared that he had done his best--that
Gabrielle was obstinate and declined to budge--adding, with a
conciliatory smile, that Clovis must practise the unruffled calm that
springs from a tranquil mind; that when the new-blown prerogative of
managing people was more familiar to the heiress, she would be less
headstrong, more considerate.
"It was too bad," groaned Clovis, who really was growing frightened.
The details of the inheritance settled, what was to detain a party of
provincials, who no longer had business in the dangerous proximity of
the whirlpool? If the heritage had been left in a proper manner, all
would have been well; for there would be nothing more natural than for
the head of the family to issue peremptory and dignified orders for
immediate departure. Even Gabrielle, who steadfastly declined to be of
the elect, ought--by reason of her gentle birth--to have preferred the
philanthropic society of an adept and the virtues of a magic tub at a
safe distance, to the chance of rubbing shoulders with a Marat or a
Robespierre, or enduring blue-stocking lectures from an upstart Madame
Roland. Though young and handsome, that person was a political
pen-woman--horrid precedent! But the contrariness of the feminine
nature is proverbial. As was to be expected, the heiress was gloating
over the shame of those she held in leash, and refused to leave the
hurly-burly just to annoy her husband.
As to this Pharamond fully agreed with Clovis. There was nothing to be
gained but possible mishaps by lingering in Paris; and he was the more
anxious to be off that he found himself a nonentity there. The fields
he burned to cultivate were lying fallow. His house of cards was
making no progress; he seemed actually to be losing ground. The abbe
was a busy bee whose time was being wasted.
Had not Gabrielle and Clovis become hopelessly estranged she might
have confided to him her deep sorrow for the queen, and her
unflinching determination to remain beside her, so long as she could
be of use. In better days, the queen had been her benefactress, and
she loved her as all did who knew her well.
But days of confidence were over now, never to be recalled. The
seasons revolved, and spring came round again to find the De Ganges
still in Paris.
It is only fair to say that Clovis was sorry for the position of their
majesties; but being of lymphatic temperament he had decided long ago
that disagreeable things which could not be helped, and which did not
injure himself, were promptly to be set aside.
Ill-starred Marie Antoinette! Is it to underline the fact of mundane
injustice that the innocent are so often scapegoats for the black
sheep? There was no abomination, however monstrous, of which the mob,
maddened by professional agitators, did not believe her to be capable.
Murder, adultery, theft.
She sometimes mournfully reminded Gabrielle of the evening--it must
have been a thousand years ago--when they had discussed their
horoscopes. "The iron grave-clothes, as was foretold, are slowly
wrapping me," she said, "to stifle my breath and crush my bones. I
hope and believe, dear Gabrielle, that your prophet lied, for you are
content and well. Happiness, we all are bound to learn does not exist.
That will perhaps appear as a fresh and welcome acquaintance at some
later stage of the long journey. You are well, my dear, and I am glad,
but I may not keep you, for here we are under the ban. I would not
have the faithful few to share the fate which daily approaches
nearer."
Gabrielle sighed, but kept her counsel, for why should she inflict
her own sorrows on one so sorely stricken? Content? No. Not even
that--much less happy. She who needed sympathy and support so much
that without them she felt her fibres paralysed, had come to know that
all the battles of our inner life must be fought out alone, hand to
hand, in solitude, and that no friend, not even the dearest, can
help us in the conflict. She had learned that much during hours of
self-communing at Lorge, and the discovery dismayed her. In the next
world, the Christians say there is no marrying or giving in marriage.
Each soul is a single unit, the bonds of life-chains shattered. It is
so even in this life, though many see it not; when the real tussle
comes, the spirit stands unaided, deprived of succour from without, to
triumph or to fall alone.
It was her anxious wish to stay beside the queen and cheer her, and by
so doing cheer herself. To be certain that some one longed for her
advent, and that her appearance in a doorway was like the glinting of
a welcome sunbeam, was a novel and refreshing sensation after the
gruesome experiences of Lorge. There was no need to trouble about the
prodigies, seeing that they were enjoying the best of air under
surveillance of Toinon and her betrothed. The old mother, who sadly
missed the perennial scoldings of the irascible defunct, also needed
her presence, for was she not more helpless than her child? Gabrielle,
counselled by M. Galland, had settled that the old lady was to move to
a small house of modest aspect in the suburbs, where she could
vegetate unharmed by revolutionary turbulence, and arranged with the
family solicitor to keep a watchful eye on her.
The marquise had a variety of reasons, then, for desiring to remain in
the capital.
Idleness brings out the bad points of most people; and both Clovis and
Pharamond were chafing. The latter, having nothing else to do, studied
his brother carefully, and the proceeding increased his disquietude.
Clovis fretted, and fumed, and yawned, and wished himself away,
listening with eagerness to the abbe's insidious innuendoes, then
growling and muttering to himself. He had something on his mind which
he was keeping back. It was not well that he should keep anything from
the abbe, so the son of the Church, with appropriate little jests
anent confession, set himself to expose the secret. It was as instinct
bade him fear. Clovis was hankering after the absent affinity.
Pharamond had had cause to suspect that since the advent of
Mademoiselle Brunelle his own power had been permanently weakened. As
he had told Gabrielle, to obtain complete mastery over this wavering
specimen of fleshliness it was necessary that the leading-rein should
be held by a woman; and--without fault of his--the abbe chanced to be
a man.
The marquis had not been aware of the delights of feminine
companionship till the arrival of the enchanting governess, and
Pharamond understood with reluctance now that although the subject had
been tabooed, Clovis yet pined for his affinity. He remembered the
parting words of Aglae at the moment of her banishment. "In the
solitude of the country," she had said, "the neophyte would miss her."
The capital under its present aspect was as lonely to him, for he had
always been more or less of a recluse, and most of his town friends
had joined the army of emigrants.
To avoid contact with the scum, and to save appearances in the matter
of compulsory attendance on his wife, he had taken up his studies with
ardour in the capital, and missed his late comrade each day more and
more. As his lips unclosed, he poured forth his confession to the
churchman; Pharamond reflected with perturbation that if the temple
were left long without its tenant, a new one might crawl in and
occupy. What was to prevent this flabby Clovis, since he felt the void
so much, from seeking another adept, even from applying to Mesmer for
just such another siren as the last? And if he did, what of the abbe
and his plans? Though not so docile as could be wished, and given to
casual deceit, it was possible for the abbe and the governess to work
together smoothly enough. That much had been proven. Supposing that,
taking the bull by the horns, he were cunningly to bring about her
re-introduction into the _menage_, would she be grateful, and, singing
_peccavi_, promise to behave better in future? Gratitude is so scarce
a commodity! And by what artifice could she be introduced again
without raising a whirlwind of remonstrance? On the other hand, if
Clovis were allowed to find another leader, the new affinity might
eschew an alliance with the abbe, even deliberately work for his
suppression. How complicated the game! How difficult were his cards to
play! Was it safe to leave the ball to roll, or must it be checked in
mid career? How would the marquise behave deprived of parental
support, at sight of the apparition of her rival? These were knotty
problems, and another false move might mean irremediable discomfiture.
Impossible as it was to see far ahead, it was necessary to feel step
by step like a blind man groping. How delicate an operation to
re-introduce the massive form of the offender! On what plea, since
after what had passed she could not assume the attributes of teacher?
Move the fragments of his puzzle as he would, they declined to fit
together, and the abbe ground his teeth with fury and confessed that
for the moment he was nonplussed.
If only the marquise could be induced to return home quickly, remove
herself from the influence of supporters. Would it be well to have a
fictitious message sent announcing the illness of the darlings? A
scrap of paper a few inches square would send her posting back to
Lorge at lightning speed; but then discovering that she was fooled,
suspicion would arise, alert. Could Clovis be persuaded to go home
without her? In that case his brothers must accompany him, lest, left
to his devices, he should do something regrettable; and it was of
equal importance to keep an eye on wife as well as husband.
Turning the subject over and over with infinite care, the abbe
admitted with an impatient sigh that for the time being he was
powerless, and that the ball must be allowed to roll. Meanwhile it
would be advisable not to lose touch of the governess, lest some day,
when wanted, she should turn rusty and accuse him of neglect. He
accordingly sat down and wrote a long and entertaining letter full of
sly quip and graphic description, ending with the assurance that the
marquis did not forget, and that the humble scribe was her slave.
This precaution taken, he settled himself down to drift with hands
before him: nor had he long to wait to perceive the direction of the
current.
It was the twentieth of June. The day was balmy, and the windows open.
The queen sat in a low _causeuse_ in her tiny library relating to the
Marquise de Gange the ominous occurrences of the morning. Paris was a
penful of sheep now distracted by too many shepherds--a weathercock
its most fitting symbol. What was happening every day would be
laughable but for the lurid cloud above with its blood-red lining, and
the low rumbling of thunder, each hour more distinct. The Assembly
whose mission was to guide the nation was no better than a den of
noxious animals, each bent on biting his neighbour. The president had
committed the grievous error of opening the flood-gates to the waters.
The sacred precincts over which he ruled were thrown open to a mob of
thirty thousand scoundrels who, their imaginations inflamed by novelty
and drunken with success, licked their foul lips and prepared for
further outrage. Women danced like M[oe]nads, waving a pike in one
hand and an olive-branch in the other--symbols of peace and war. From
a chorus of brawny throats rolled the familiar strains of _Ca Ira_.
The unkempt porters of the markets, the cadaverous workers from the
cellars of St. Antoine; a weak-limbed squad, a sturdy crew of
ruffians, equally bent on mischief, waved rude bits of jagged iron
bound to the ends of bludgeons. There was no end to the muster. Women
possessed of the devil Hysteria--men maddened and excited by the
women. More men--more women--women--men. What did they want? What was
the object of the saturnalia in the sacred precincts of the Assembly?
Ragged breeches were held up with a yell of "_Vive les sans
culottes!_" Some one flourished a pike aloft on which was transfixed
the bleeding heart of a calf. Through the drip the scrawled
description could be deciphered--"This is the heart of an aristocrat!"
"If the accepted authorities were to be bearded thus, what next?"
suggested Marie Antoinette. "We are marching straight downwards to our
doom. We know it, and being blameless, look to the end with
thankfulness. But when we are sacrificed--what then--afterwards.
Apres?"
When Gabrielle strove to persuade her benefactress that she saw things
_en noir_ the latter gave her haughty head a toss. "Conflict with the
inevitable is not always an absurd mockery, for self-respect, when we
are innocent, insists on battle to the death."
As she spoke a low rumble, increasing each second in volume which
seemed an echo of what she described as having dismayed the Assembly a
few hours since, caused the ladies to look at each other in alarm.
What was that ominous sound? Almost before they had time to realize
that it meant anguish and woe treading on each other's heels--it had
increased to a deafening roar.
"They have burst into the gardens. Where are the little ones?" cried
Gabrielle, thinking of her own cherubs, happily far away. "I will
fetch them. Their Royal Highnesses are in the next room, reading."
She sped away, and returning with the royal children presently, beheld
her mistress leaning against the casement frame, stone white.
"Hist!" she said, her voice scarce audible above the noise. "The
wretches have invaded the palace--do they intend to fire it? Amid
yonder sea of pikes and staves there is a cannon which they are
dragging up the stairs. What for--for me? Into what a pandemonium were
we born!"
The uproar was like the lashing of an angry sea. The frightened
women could hear the grinding and creaking of the heavy gun as with
volleys of cries and curses it was lifted to the grand landing.
"Unbar the door or we will blow it down," some one shouted, in rough
accents--then followed a thunderous battering of pikes, the crushing
and rending of panels and then--silence.
"They will kill him. They will kill him! Why am I not by his side?"
murmured Marie Antoinette, writhing her hands together.
"I am here--what would you?" a steady voice said, cheerfully, rising
above the hubbub not far away.
"Vive la nation!" roared the rabble.
"Yes. Vive la nation. I am its best friend," replied the king.
Then there was a diversion. The trembling listeners were startled by a
new roar of groans and hooting. "There she is--the curse of France.
The Austrian! The Austrian! Down with her!"
"My God!" muttered the queen. "It must be Elizabeth whom they mistake
for me! My place is with them. Is a child of Maria Theresa to play the
cur? Why am I skulking here?"
"Madame! They will tear you in pieces!" implored Gabrielle, clinging
to her skirts.
"So be it," returned the queen proudly, and drawing herself up to her
imperial height, she opened the door with steady hand and went forth
with her two children. Unrecognized, she penetrated as far as the
council chamber where a group of Grenadiers hastily surrounded and
pushed her into the embrasure of a window which they barricaded with a
table. For the present, to attempt to reach the king was hopeless. The
palace was flooded with a ragged rout, who, in intervals of yelling
pocketed such portable property as was handy. They were covered with
dirt and blood, and, for the most part, wore the red cap recently
introduced by Collot d'Herbois as the orthodox symbol of the free.
Meanwhile a messenger had rushed to the Assembly to announce the
danger of the palace, and a number of deputies hastened thither with
all speed, to slay the wreckers and prevent a tragedy. The mob, drunk
with too potent a dose of liberty, had committed a deplorable outrage,
and were on the threshold of a great crime without definite purpose.
Exhorted to sobriety, upbraided for excesses which stained the holy
cause in the face of Europe, the rabblement sulkily withdrew, gnashing
their teeth and snarling with gestures of menace, as they filed past
the queen; and she watched them go in gloomy silence, with a heart
that welled with horror and eyes that swam in tears.
For the moment peril was averted, the palace safe; but who might tell
when the unreasoning flood, lashed by the agitators into foam, would,
in caprice, flow back and drown its inmates? General indignation
prevailed among all grades of the better classes. Though to the new
way of thinking kings and queens might be objects of dislike, yet, so
long as they existed, it was not fair that at any moment their privacy
should be invaded by the unwashed, their furniture broken, their
children terrified. The Assembly was ashamed. The partisans of the
court were unwise enough to bluster. Rumours were abroad that, in
consequence of the outrage, the royal servants were to be armed; that
the Swiss Guard would be ordered to fire upon the first sans-culotte
who ventured within shot. So far was this from the truth that his
majesty had determined to dismiss from about his person those
untrustworthy friends, who, without possessing the power to save, had
so often compromised him. The queen, too, was firmly resolved that she
would not have upon her head the blood of those who were not directly
in her service. Gently, but without wavering, she bade adieu, amongst
others, to the Marquise de Gange, who begged hard for permission to
remain.
"No," said Marie Antoinette, gloomily, "you have duties of your own
from which I must no longer keep you. Heaven bless you, my dear
friend. To such calumnies as may reach your ears you will give no
credence, but will pray for an unhappy woman who has not deserved her
fate. Give me your thoughts and prayers, for we shall meet no more on
earth."
Her forebodings were but too soon realized. Only seven weeks later the
Palace of the Tuileries was stormed, and the devoted guards massacred
under circumstances of peculiar atrocity. Soon afterwards the royal
family were removed to the Temple, whence, in the course of a long
drawn martyrdom, the unfortunate queen was transferred to a squalid
hole in the Conciergerie on her rough road to the scaffold and
release.