BILLET AND PITOU.
On being called by the king, Petion had foreseen that he might more
easily get into the palace than out, so he went up to a hard-faced man
marred by a scar on the brow.
"Farmer Billet," said he, "what was your report about the House?"
"That it would hold an all-night sitting."
"Very good; and what did you say you saw on the New Bridge?"
"Cannon and Guards, placed by order of Colonel Mandat."
"And you also stated that a considerable force was collected under St.
John's Arcade, near the opening of St. Antoine Street?"
"Yes; again, by order of Colonel Mandat."
"Well, will you listen to me? Here you have an order to Manuel and
Danton to send back to barracks the troops at St. John's Arcade, and
to remove the guns from the bridge; at any cost, you will understand,
these orders must be obeyed."
"I will hand it to Danton myself."
"Good. You are living in St. Honore Street?"
"Yes, mayor."
"When you have given Danton the order, get home and snatch a bit of
rest. About two o'clock, go out to the Feuillants' Quay, where you
will stand by the wall. If you see or hear stones falling over from
the other side of the wall, it will mean that I am a prisoner in the
Tuileries, and detained by violence."
"I understand."
"Present yourself at the bar of the House, and ask my colleagues to
claim me. You understand, Farmer Billet, I am placing my life in your
hands."
"I will answer for it," replied the bluff farmer; "take it easy."
Petion had therefore gone into the lion's den, relying on Billet's
patriotism.
The latter had spoken the more firmly, as Pitou had come to town. He
dispatched the young peasant to Danton, with the word for him not to
return without him. Lazy as the orator was, Pitou had a prevailing way,
and he brought Danton with him.
Danton had seen the cannon on the bridge, and the National Guards at
the end of the popular quarter, and he understood the urgency of not
leaving such forces on the rear of the people's army. With Petion's
order in hand, he and Manuel sent the Guards away and removed the guns.
This cleared the road for the Revolution.
In the meantime, Billet and Pitou had gone to their old lodging in St.
Honore Street, to which Pitou bobbed his head as to an old friend. The
farmer sat down, and signified the young man was to do the same.
"Thank you, but I am not tired," returned Pitou; but the other
insisted, and he gave way.
"Pitou, I sent for you to join me," said the farmer.
"And you see I have not kept you waiting," retorted the National Guards
captain, with his own frank smile, showing all his thirty-two teeth.
"No. You must have guessed that something serious is afoot."
"I suspected as much. But, I say, friend Billet, I do not see anything
of Mayor Bailly or General Lafayette."
"Bailly is a traitor, who nearly murdered the lot of us on the
parade-ground."
"Yes, I know that, as I picked you up there, almost swimming in your
own blood."
"And Lafayette is another traitor, who wanted to take away the king."
"I did not know that. Lafayette a traitor, eh? I never would have
thought of that. And the king?"
"He is the biggest traitor of the lot, Pitou."
"I can not say I am surprised at that," said Pitou.
"He conspires with the foreigner, and wants to deliver France to the
enemy. The Tuileries is the center of the conspiracy, and we have
decided to take possession of the Tuileries. Do you understand this,
Pitou?"
"Of course I understand. But, look here, Master Billet; we took the
Bastile, and this will not be so hard a job."
"That's where you are out."
"What, more difficult, when the walls are not so high?"
"That's so; but they are better guarded. The Bastile had but a hundred
old soldiers to guard it, while the palace has three or four thousand
men; this is saying nothing of the Bastile having been carried by
surprise, while the Tuileries folk must know we mean to attack, and
will be on the lookout."
"They will defend it, will they?" queried Pitou.
"Yes," replied Billet--"all the more as the defense is trusted to Count
Charny, they say."
"Indeed. He did leave Boursonnes with his lady by the post," observed
Pitou. "Lor', is he a traitor, too?"
"No; he is an aristocrat, that is all. He has always been for the
court, so that he is no traitor to the people; he never asked us to put
any faith in him."
"So it looks as though we will have a tussle with Lord Charny?"
"It is likely, friend Ange."
"What a queer thing it is, neighbors clapper-clawing!"
"Yes--what is called civil war, Pitou; but you are not obliged to fight
unless you like."
"Excuse me, farmer, but it suits me from the time when it is to your
taste."
"But I should even like it better if you did not fight."
"Why did you send for me, Master Billet?"
"I sent for you to give you this paper," replied Billet, with his face
clouding.
"What is this all about?"
"It is the draft of my will."
"Your will?" cried Pitou, laughing. "Hang me, if you look like a man
about to die!"
"No; but I may be a man who will get killed," returned the
revolutionist, pointing to his gun and cartridge-box hanging on the
wall.
"That's a fact," said Ange Pitou; "we are all mortal."
"So that I have come to place my will in your hands as the sole
legatee."
"No, I thank you. But you are only saying this for a joke?"
"I am telling you a fact."
"But it can not be. When a man has rightful heirs he can not give away
his property to outsiders."
"You are wrong, Pitou; he can."
"Then he ought not."
"I have no heirs," replied Billet, with a dark cloud passing over his
face.
"No heirs? How about heiresses, then? What do you call Miss Catherine?"
"I do not know anybody of that name, Pitou."
"Come, come, farmer, do not say such things; you make me sad."
"Pitou, from the time when something is mine, it is mine to give away;
in the same way, should I die, what I leave to you will be yours, to
deal with as you please, to be given away as freely."
"Ha! Good--yes," exclaimed the young man, who began to understand;
"then, if anything bad happens to you--But how stupid I am; nothing bad
could happen to you."
"You yourself said just now that we are all mortal."
"So I did; but--well, I do not know but that you are right. I take the
will, Master Billet; but is it true that if I fall heir, I can do as I
please with the property?"
"No doubt, since it will be yours. And, you understand, you are a sound
patriot, Pitou; they will not stand you off from it, as they might folk
who have connived with the aristocrats."
"It's a bargain," said Pitou, who was getting it into his brain; "I
accept."
"Then that is all I have to say to you. Put the paper in your pocket
and go to sleep."
"What for?"
"Because we shall have some work to do to-morrow--no, this day, for it
is two in the morning."
"Are you going out, Master Billet?"
"Only as far as the river."
"You are sure you do not want me?"
"On the other hand, you would be in my way."
"I suppose I might have a bite and a sup, then?"
"Of course. I forgot to ask if you might not be hungry."
"Because you know I am always hungry," said Pitou, laughing.
"I need not tell you where the larder is."
"No, no, master; do not worry about me. But you are going to come back
here?"
"I shall return."
"Or else tell me where we are to meet?"
"It is useless, for I shall be home in an hour."
Pitou went in search of the eatables with an appetite which in him, as
in the case of the king, no events could alter, however serious they
might be, while Billet proceeded to the water-side to do what we know.
He had hardly arrived on the spot before a pebble fell, followed by
another, and some more, teaching him that what Petion apprehended
had come to pass, and that he was a prisoner to the Royalists. So he
had flown, according to his instructions, to the Assembly, which had
claimed the mayor, as we have described.
Petion, liberated, had only to walk through the House to get back to
the mayor's office, leaving his carriage in the Tuileries yard to
represent him.
For his part, Billet went home, and found Ange finishing his supper.
"Any news?" asked he.
"Nothing, except that day is breaking and the sky is the color of
blood."