IN THE CHÉVREUSE VALLEY.
The first thing Dolores saw was the kindly face of Cornelia Bridoul, who
was bending over her with tears of joy in her eyes. The good woman had
been waiting at the door of the "Bonnet Rouge" and had sprang into the
carriage the moment it stopped. Dolores was still very faint and utterly
bewildered. She glanced at Cornelia, at Bridoul and then at Coursegol.
Then she swooned again. Taking her in his arms, the wine-shop keeper
carried her to the chamber she had formerly occupied, where he placed
her upon the bed, leaving his wife to bestow such care on her as in her
weak condition she might require. This done, he repaired to the back
shop, where, by his direction, Coursegol had preceded him.
"You want to know what all this means and how it was accomplished," said
he, as he entered the room and carefully closed the door behind him. "I
am now ready to tell you. But first you must have something to
strengthen you, for you have just passed through a trial sufficient to
break down even Hercules himself."
As he spoke he took a flask of brandy from a closet and filled glasses
for his companion and himself. After they had drunk the liquor and
seated themselves, he continued:
"Time is precious, and it will not do for Dolores and yourself to
remain long here, or, for that matter, in Paris! You are safe for the
moment, but at what instant you may again be in deadly peril it is
impossible to say! I have succeeded in cheating the guillotine of its
prey, and I will tell you how in as few words as I can. When I learned
that Dolores was in prison and heard of your own arrest, I determined to
move heaven and earth to save you, but was at a loss to know either
where to turn or what to do. Just at that critical juncture word was
brought me that I had been chosen a member of the Committee of Public
Safety, on the recommendation of no less a personage than Robespierre
himself, and that the Dictator wished to see me at once. I saw my
opportunity and hastened to him without an instant's delay.
"Robespierre received me cordially and informed me that I could be of
the greatest service to him and the Republic. I answered that as a true
patriot I was not only willing but anxious to do all that lay in my
power. He smiled and said that he had a mission of the utmost importance
to entrust to me, that he had selected me for it because of my
well-known zeal for the Nation's welfare and my equally well-known
integrity. I bowed, and he went on to say that certain members of the
Committee of Public Safety were plotting against himself and the
continuance of his power. My mission was to win over those members to
his interest and restore harmony in the Committee. I accepted the
mission and succeeded.
"The Dictator's delight and exultation were boundless. He told me to
name the price of my distinguished service and, whatever it might be, it
should instantly be paid. He undoubtedly expected that I would demand
money and position, but I demanded neither. I simply asked for his
warrant, under his own signature and the great seal of the Republic, to
save from prison and the guillotine two of my friends who were accused
of crimes of which they were entirely innocent. Robespierre was
surprised. He hesitated; then he asked the names of my friends. I gave
them and he showed further hesitation. Finally, he drew up the warrant,
signed it, placed the great seal upon it, and directed me to take two of
his clerks and have it at once carried into effect. You may well imagine
that I did not let the grass grow under my feet. I took the precious
document and, accompanied by the clerks, fairly flew to the
Conciergerie, where I had learned you were confined previous to going to
the guillotine.
"When I arrived I was informed, to my terror and dismay that the cart
laden with the condemned had already started for the Place de la
Révolution and that Dolores and yourself were among the victims. I
procured a carriage and with my companions drove at headlong speed to
the very steps of the guillotine. The rest you know. Now, Robespierre is
treacherous and forgetful of services when his end has been attained. He
may revoke his warrant and order your re-arrest at any moment. Hence I
say that time is precious and that it will not do for you to remain long
either here or elsewhere in Paris. You must seek safety as soon as
possible in the little cottage in the Chévreuse valley, where the
Dictator and his myrmidoms will not think of searching for you. This is
imperative!"
Coursegol grasped his friend's hand.
"You are a man, Bridoul!" said he. "You have saved our lives and won our
undying gratitude! We will follow your advice to the letter! But you
must do something more. Antoinette de Mirandol and Philip de Chamondrin
are still in the Conciergerie. They have an order for their release, but
cannot use it without your help. You must aid them to escape and join us
in the Chévreuse valley!"
"I will do it!" said Bridoul, solemnly. "I swear it!"
"Enough," replied Coursegol. "Dolores and myself will leave for the
refuge this very night!"
Madame Bridoul was summoned and acquainted with the decision that had
been reached. She reported that Dolores had recovered consciousness and
strength and would be ready for the departure when required.
"One thing more," said Coursegol to Bridoul and his wife. "Neither
Philip nor Antoinette must know that we have escaped the guillotine
until they find us alive and well in the Chévreuse valley!"
This was agreed to, and, at nightfall, Coursegol and Dolores, provided
with the requisite passports, quitted Paris. In due time they reached
the little cottage in the Chévreuse valley in safety.
About a fortnight after the supposed execution of Dolores and Coursegol,
Philip and Antoinette, with the aid of Bridoul and the order of release
wrested from Vauquelas, succeeded in obtaining their freedom. No sooner
were they out of the Conciergerie than they hastened to the refuge
provided for them in the Chévreuse valley. What pen can describe their
joy and gratitude to God when, on their arrival, they found that the
little cottage contained two other tenants, and that those tenants were
their beloved friends whom they had mourned as victims of the hideous
guillotine?
Dolores, after the first transports of delight at the reunion were over,
endeavored to continue her rôle of martyr and to induce Philip to keep
his promise to her to marry Antoinette, but the latter had greatly
changed since that dreadful parting at the Conciergerie. She had become
capable of as great a sacrifice as Dolores, and firmly refused to stand
longer between Philip and the woman he had loved for so many years. She
still loved Philip, it is true, but her love had grown pure and
unselfish--it was now a sister's love, not that of a woman who wished to
be his wife.
To say that Philip was overjoyed by this unexpected turn of affairs is
only to state the simple truth.
Dolores at first demurred, urging the wish of the late Marquis, also
that she was devoted to God, but Antoinette's only reply was to join
their hands and bless them, and Dolores finally consented to the
marriage that at her heart's core she so ardently desired.
Philip and Dolores were quietly united in wedlock a few weeks later.
Coursegol, the Bridouls and Antoinette were the only persons present at
the ceremony besides the bride and groom and the officiating priest.
Shortly afterwards the Marquis de Chamondrin and his wife, accompanied
by Coursegol, Antoinette and the Bridouls, the latter having sold their
wine-shop, went to England and from there to Louisiana, where Mlle. de
Mirandol owned extensive estates. Antoinette decided to remain in
Louisiana, having persuaded Madame Bridoul to take charge of her house
and Bridoul to assume the management of her business.
Philip and Dolores spent ten years in America and then returned to
France. They had two children, a son and a daughter, the latter named
Antoinette, and their life, though always slightly tinged with
melancholy, was serene and peaceful. After his return to his native
land, Philip rebuilt the Château de Chamondrin and took up his permanent
abode there, determined to lead the life of a country gentleman and
student and to take no part in the political controversies of the time,
nor could he be induced to reconsider this decision though he was twice
offered a seat in the Chamber of Deputies. After the exciting and
terrible scenes of the Reign of Terror through which he had passed, he
longed for quiet and repose. Coursegol was made the steward of his
estate and managed it with such shrewdness and intelligence that Philip
became rich and all the prestige of the Chamondrins was restored.
In the month of May, 1822, while in Paris, to which city he had been
called by important business, the Marquis de Chamondrin met an old
nobleman who had been a fellow prisoner in the Conciergerie. They talked
together a long time over the past and the frenzy, perils and heroism
which had stamped those eventful days, and a chance word, let fall by
his companion, first acquainted Philip with the fact that Dolores had
endeavored to sacrifice her own life in order to save that of Antoinette
de Mirandol. The Marquis de Chamondrin turned pale as death and pressed
his hand convulsively against his heart, but he speedily recovered his
color and self-possession and the old nobleman did not even suspect the
emotion to which his revelation had given rise.
Philip never mentioned the knowledge he had acquired to his wife, but
his love and reverence for her were vastly augmented by it, and,
whenever he thought of the sacrifice that God in His mercy had not
permitted to be made, he murmured to himself:
"Dolores has a noble and heroic soul! An angel from Heaven could not
have acted more grandly!"
THE END.