GOD DISPOSES.
D'Harmental, as we have seen, had set off at a gallop, feeling that he
had not an instant to lose in bringing about the changes which the
death of Captain Roquefinette rendered necessary in his hazardous
enterprise. In the hope of recognizing by some sign the individuals who
were destined to play the part of supernumeraries in this great drama,
he followed the boulevards as far as the Porte Saint Martin, and having
arrived there, turned to the left, and was in the midst of the horse
market: it was there, it will be remembered, that the twelve or fifteen
sham peasants enlisted by Roquefinette waited the orders of their
captain. But, as the deceased had said, no sign pointed out to the eye
of the stranger who were the men, clothed like the rest, and scarcely
known to each other. D'Harmental, therefore, sought vainly; all the
faces were unknown to him; buyers and sellers appeared equally
indifferent to everything except the bargains which they were
concluding. Twice or thrice, after having approached persons whom he
fancied he recognized as false bargainers, he went away without even
speaking to them, so great was the probability, that, among the five or
six hundred individuals who were on the ground, the chevalier would make
some mistake which might be not only useless, but even dangerous.
The situation was pitiable: D'Harmental unquestionably had there, ready
to his hand, all the means necessary to the happy completion of his
plot, but he had, in killing the captain, broken with his own hand the
thread which should have served him as a clew to them, and, the center
link broken, the whole chain had become useless.
D'Harmental bit his lips till the blood came, and wandered to and fro,
from end to end of the market, still hoping that some unforeseen event
would get him out of his difficulty. Time, however, flowed away, the
market presented the same aspect, no one spoke to him, and two peasants
to whom despair had caused him to address some ambiguous words, had
opened their eyes and mouths in such profound astonishment that he had
instantly broken off the conversation, convinced that he was mistaken.
Five o'clock struck.
At eight or nine the regent would repair to Chelles, there was therefore
no time to be lost, particularly as this ambuscade was the last resource
for the conspirators, who might be arrested at any moment, and who
staked their remaining hopes on this last throw. D'Harmental did not
conceal from himself the difficulties of the situation; he had claimed
for himself the honor of the enterprise; on him therefore rested all the
responsibility--and that responsibility was terrible. On the other hand,
he found himself in one of those situations where courage is useless,
and where human will shatters itself against an impossibility, and where
the last chance is to confess one's weakness, and ask aid from those who
expect it of us. But D'Harmental was a man of determination; his
resolution was soon taken--he took a last turn round the market to see
if some conspirator would not betray himself by his impatience; but,
seeing that all faces retained their expression of unconcern, he put his
horse to the gallop, rode down the Boulevards, gained the Faubourg Saint
Antoine, dismounted at No. 15, went up the staircase, opened the door of
a little room, and found himself in the company of Madame de Maine,
Laval, Valef, Pompadour, Malezieux and Brigaud.
A general cry arose on seeing him.
D'Harmental related everything: the pretensions of Roquefinette, the
discussion which had followed, the duel which had terminated that
discussion. He opened his cloak and showed his shirt saturated with
blood; then he passed to the hopes which he had entertained of
recognizing the sham peasants, and putting himself at their head in
place of the captain. He showed his hopes destroyed, his investigations
useless, and wound up by an appeal to Laval, Pompadour, and Valef, who
answered that they were ready to follow the chevalier to the end of the
earth, and to obey his orders.
Nothing was lost, then--four resolute men, acting on their own account,
were well worth twelve or fifteen hired vagabonds, who were not
influenced by any motive beyond that of gaining some hundred louis
a-piece. The horses were ready in the stable, every one had come armed;
D'Avranches was not yet gone, which re-enforced the little troop by
another devoted man. They sent for masks of black velvet, so as to hide
from the regent as long as possible who his enemies were, left with
Madame de Maine Malezieux, who from his age, and Brigaud, who from his
profession, were naturally excluded from such an expedition, fixed a
rendezvous at Saint Mande, and left, each one separately, so as not to
arouse suspicions. An hour afterward the five friends were reunited, and
ambushed on the road to Chelles, between Vincennes and Nogent-sur-Marne.
Half-past six struck on the chateau clock.
D'Avranches had been in search of information. The regent had passed at
about half-past three; he had neither guards nor suite, he was in a
carriage and four, ridden by two jockeys, and preceded by a single
outrider. There was no resistance to be feared; on arresting the prince
they would turn his course toward Charenton, where the postmaster was,
as we have said, in the interest of Madame de Maine, take him into the
courtyard, whose door would close upon him, force him to enter a
traveling carriage, which would be waiting with the postilion in his
saddle; D'Harmental and Valef would seat themselves by him, they would
cross the Marne at Alfort, the Seine at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges, reach
Grand-Vaux, then Monthery, and find themselves on the road to Spain. If
at any of the villages where they changed horses the regent endeavored
to call out, D'Harmental and Valef would threaten him, and, if he called
out in spite of the menaces, they had that famous passport to prove that
he who claimed assistance was not the prince, but only a madman who
thought himself the regent, and whom they were conducting to his family,
who lived at Saragossa. All this was a little dangerous, it is true,
but, as is well known, these are the very enterprises which succeed, so
much the easier from their unforeseen audacity.
Seven o'clock, eight o'clock, struck successively. D'Harmental and his
companions saw with pleasure the night approaching, and the darkness
falling more and more dense and black around them; two or three
carriages had already given false alarms, but had had no other effect
than preparing them for the real attack. At half-past eight the night
was pitch-dark, and a sort of natural fear, which the conspirators had
felt at first, began to change into impatience.
At nine o'clock they thought they could distinguish sounds. D'Avranches
lay down, with his ear to the ground, and distinctly heard the rolling
of a carriage. At that instant they saw, at about a thousand paces from
the angle of the road, a point of light like a star; the conspirators
trembled with excitement, it was evidently the outrider with his torch.
There was soon no doubt--they saw the carriage with its two lanterns.
D'Harmental, Pompadour, Valef, and Laval, grasped one another's hands,
put on their masks, and each one took the place assigned to him. The
carriage advanced rapidly--it was really that of the duke. By the light
of the torch which he carried they could distinguish the red dress of
the outrider, some five-and-twenty paces before the horses. The road was
silent and deserted, everything was favorable. D'Harmental threw a last
glance on his companions. D'Avranches was in the middle of the road
pretending to be drunk, Laval and Pompadour on each side of the path,
and opposite him Valef, who was cocking his pistols. As to the outrider,
the two jockeys and the prince, it was evident that they were all in a
state of perfect security, and would fall quietly into the trap. The
carriage still advanced; already the outrider had passed D'Harmental and
Valef, suddenly he struck against D'Avranches, who sprang up, seized the
bridle, snatched the torch from his hand, and extinguished it. At this
sight the jockeys tried to turn the carriage, but it was too late;
Pompadour and Laval sprang upon them pistol in hand, while D'Harmental
and Valef presented themselves at the two doors, extinguished the
lanterns, and intimated to the prince that if he did not make any
resistance his life would be spared, but that if, on the contrary, he
defended himself, or cried out, they were determined to proceed to
extremities.
Contrary to the expectation of D'Harmental and Valef, who knew the
courage of the regent, the prince only said:
"Well, gentlemen, do not harm me. I will go wherever you wish."
D'Harmental and Valef threw a glance at the road; they saw Pompadour and
D'Avranches leading into the depth of the wood the outrider, the two
jockeys, the outrider's horse, and two of the carriage horses which they
had unharnessed. The chevalier sprang from his horse, mounted that of
the first postilion; Laval and Valef placed themselves before the doors,
the carriage set off at a gallop, and taking the first turn to the left,
began to roll, without noise and without light, in the direction of
Charenton. All the arrangements had been so perfect, that the seizure
had not occupied more than five minutes; no resistance had been made,
not a cry had been uttered. Most assuredly, this time fortune was on the
side of the conspirators.
But having arrived at the end of the cross-road, D'Harmental encountered
a first obstacle; the barrier--either by accident or design--was closed,
and they were obliged to retrace their steps and take another road. The
chevalier turned his horses, took a lateral alley, and the journey,
interrupted for an instant, recommenced at an increased speed.
The new route which the chevalier had taken led him to a four-cross
road; one of the roads led straight to Charenton. There was no time to
lose, and in any event he must traverse this square. For an instant he
thought he distinguished men in the darkness before him, but this vision
disappeared like a mist, and the carriage continued its progress without
interruption. On approaching the cross-roads D'Harmental fancied he
heard the neighing of a horse, and a sort of ringing of iron, like
sabers being drawn from their sheaths, but either taking it for the
wind among the leaves, or for some other noise for which he need not
stop, he continued with the same swiftness, the same silence, and in the
midst of the same darkness. But, having arrived at the cross-roads,
D'Harmental noticed a singular circumstance, a sort of wall seemed to
close all the roads; something was happening. D'Harmental stopped the
carriage, and wished to return by the road he had come down, but a
similar wall had closed behind him. At that instant he heard the voices
of Laval and Valef crying:
"We are surrounded, save yourself!"
And both left the doors, leaped their horses over the ditch, darted into
the forest, and disappeared among the trees.
But it was impossible for D'Harmental, who was mounted on the
postilion's horse, to follow his companions, and, not being able to
escape the living wall, which the chevalier recognized as a regiment of
musketeers, he tried to break through it, and with his head lowered, and
a pistol in each hand, spurred his horse up the nearest road, without
considering whether it was the right one. He had scarcely gone ten
steps, however, when a musket-ball entered the head of his horse, which
fell, entangling D'Harmental's leg. Instantly eight or ten cavaliers
sprang upon him; he fired one pistol by hazard, and put the other to his
head, to blow his brains out, but he had not time, for two musketeers
seized him by the arms, and four others dragged him from beneath the
horse. The pretended prince descended from the carriage, and turned out
to be a valet in disguise; they placed D'Harmental with two officers
inside the carriage, and harnessed another horse in the place of the one
which had been shot. The carriage once more moved forward, taking a new
direction, and escorted by a squadron of musketeers. A quarter of an
hour afterward it rolled over a drawbridge, a heavy door grated upon its
hinges, and D'Harmental passed under a somber and vaulted gateway, on
the inner side of which, an officer in the uniform of a colonel was
waiting for him. It was Monsieur de Launay, the governor of the
Bastille.
If our readers desire to know how the plot had been discovered, they
must recall the conversation between Dubois and La Fillon. The gossip of
the prime minister, it will be remembered, suspected Roquefinette of
being mixed up in some illicit proceeding, and had denounced him on
condition of his life being spared. A few days afterward D'Harmental
came to her house, and she recognized him as the young man who had held
the former conference with Roquefinette. She had consequently mounted
the stairs behind him, and, going into the next room, had, by aid of a
hole bored in the partition, heard everything.
What she had heard was the project for carrying off the regent on his
return from Chelles. Dubois had been informed the same evening, and, in
order to take the conspirators in the act, had put a suit of the
regent's clothes on Monsieur Bourguignon, and, having surrounded the
Bois de Vincennes with a regiment of Gray Musketeers, besides
light-horse and dragoons, had produced the result we have just related.
The head of the plot had been taken in the fact, and as the prime
minister knew the names of all the conspirators, there was little chance
remaining for them of escape from the meshes of the vast net which was
hourly closing around them.