"Let me begin at the beginning.
"Though I am an old man, you cannot expect my memory to go further back
than 1848. But it was I who made the French Revolution of that year.
Without me there would have been a revolt; but it was thanks to me--it
was thanks to Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski--that the revolt became
a revolution.
"I was a young man in those days, twenty years old, a student at the
University of Paris. I was tall, with long black hair that flowed over
my collar; strong as though my muscles were of whip-cord; a swordsman
who, at the _salle d'armes_, could as often as not disarm the fencing
master. And when I was not studying--which was often--I talked politics
in the _cafes_ of the Latin quarter. There were those who said--behind
my back--that I talked nonsense. They would not have dared to say it to
my face; and they knew better afterwards.
"One of my comrades, however, seemed to understand me better than the
others. His name was Jacques Durand; and he came to me one day with a
proposal.
"'Stromboli,' he whispered in my ear. 'You know that we're trying to get
up a revolution?'
"I nodded.
"'You ought to be one of us, Stromboli. You ought to join the Society of
the Friends of Revolution.'
"'I never heard of that Society,' I answered.
"'That's because it's a secret society,' Jacques explained. 'You can't
expect to hear about secret societies before you're asked to join them.
The more secret they are the better. You can understand that, can't
you?'
"Of course I could understand that.
"'I was asked to get you into it,' Jacques continued. 'A man like
you----'
"One ought not, of course, to be susceptible to that sort of flattery.
But one is as one is made; and I had spoken in favour of the revolution
in the _cafes_. So it was agreed, and an appointment was arranged.
"'Next Sunday evening,' Jacques whispered.
"'Next Sunday evening,' I replied.
"And now picture me at this important turning point of my career.
Observe me guided by my comrade through many dark and dangerous streets,
where it seemed to me that a man would carry his life in his hands,
unless he were, like myself, of formidable appearance. Our destination
was a cellar, underneath a _cafe_, and we reached it by a flight of
narrow, winding, slimy stairs. Jacques gave the secret signal; three
slow, loud knocks upon the panel of the door, and then the humming of
two lines of the Carmagnole--
'Vive le son
Du canon.'
There was a rattling of chains, and then the door was opened and we were
admitted.
"'Sit down, comrade,' said one who seemed to be the President, and I
took the place that had been kept vacant for me, and, as my eyes became
used to the gloom, gradually surveyed the scene.
"There were some twenty of us, grouped round a plain deal table. Red
flags were draped upon the damp and dripping walls. In the centre of the
table was a skull, the eyes serving as the sockets of two guttering
tallow candles, which were our only light. The atmosphere was misty with
tobacco smoke. But the strangest thing was that almost all the comrades
were personally known to me. All of them, like myself, were students at
the University of Paris; and there was not a man among them whom I had
ever suspected of being an earnest politician.
"But what of that? 'Still waters run deep' is your English proverb, is
it not? This was, perhaps, an illustration of it. Otherwise--if that
were a rude student's practical joke at the expense of the stranger who
had come among ---- I said to myself, 'then they shall soon learn that
revolution is a subject upon which Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski
does not jest.'
"But the voice of the President of the Society interrupted me.
"'The new comrade,' he said, 'will now take the oath to keep the secrets
and obey the orders of the Friends of Revolution, and will drink to them
in blood drawn from his own veins.'
"And I did this, a vein in my hand being opened with a penknife, and a
drop let fall from it into a tumbler of red wine; and the business of
the evening was proceeded with. Once more it was the President who
spoke:--
"'For the benefit of the new comrade I explain the _raison d'etre_ of
the Friends of Revolution. Our purpose is to pave the way for a
revolution by removing those who are likely to be the chief obstacles to
it when it comes. We choose the victim by ballot, and then we choose
the executioner by ballot, so that injustice may be done to no one. I
give no indications; it is not my place to give any. Some of you may
think that a prince of the blood royal, now in Paris, holding high
military command---- But this is your affair, not mine; the vote is
secret. Vote according to your consciences.'
'We voted in solemn silence, using the President's silk hat for a
ballot-urn. Seeing that I paused to think, my neighbour whispered a
name into my ear. The suggestion pleased me, and I took it; and in due
course the President of the assembly shuffled the papers and read them
to us one by one. It was like this--
"'Montpensier, Montpensier, Montpensier, Montpensier. Comrades, the
vote is unanimous for citizen the Duc de Montpensier.'
"There were loud cheers, and then there was a deadly silence. Looking
round and seeing that the eyes of all were fixed intently upon me, I
understood clearly what was coming next. The victim having been
selected, they meant to choose me as his executioner. They thought that
I should be frightened, that I should draw back, that I should give them
the chance to laugh at me for talking bombast in the _cafes_. But they
did not know me; they did not know Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.
"'Comrades, I claim the work!' I cried, leaping to my feet with vigour,
and so making my first appearance in any revolution. 'The choice is
good,' I continued, with impetuosity. 'There could be no greater
obstacle to revolution than a prince of the blood royal, who is also the
commanding officer of the artillery, and would sweep the streets with
his cannon when the people rise. But there is no need of any further
ballot. A volunteer is better than a pressed man at any time, and I
answer for Montpensier. Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski undertakes
to see to it that Montpensier shall never turn his guns upon the
people.'
"It was the turning of the tables on the jesters. They had brought me
to this meeting-place, thinking first to terrify me by assigning me this
perilous task, and then to laugh at me for my fears and my credulity in
supposing that they were in earnest; and, lo! I had stood up and made
them real conspirators against their will. It was their faces, instead
of mine, that were now pale with terror; and their efforts to wriggle
out of the responsibilities to which I had committed them were
laughable.
"'It is well,' said the President; 'but a committee must now be
constituted to consult with the comrade Stromboli concerning ways and
means.' Which meant, of course, a committee to break it to me gently
that the Friends of Revolution had made a fool of me. I repudiated the
proposal with all my indignation.
"'M. le President,' I said, 'I will ask for a committee to advise me
when I need advice. It was because I did not feel the need of it that I
offered to execute the task. I have my plan, which I do not disclose.
Within a fortnight you shall know for certain that the Duc de
Montpensier will never turn his guns upon the people. In the meantime,
drink to my enterprise, and then hold your peace about it.'
"Had I convinced them? Or had the power of my eye laid them under a
spell? Or had my earnestness made them ashamed? I cannot say for
certain. All that I know is that they rose to their feet and pledged me
in the wine-cup, the toast being--
"'To the comrade who will remove Montpensier!'
"But I corrected them.
"'Drink, rather,' I said, 'to the comrade who answers for Montpensier.'
And they drank.
"And now you think, perhaps, that I had some dark design to be executed
with dagger, with pistol, or with poison. Perish the thought! I am not
that kind of revolutionist. On the contrary, it has always been my aim
to raise the tone of revolution by employing _finesse_ instead of
violence, wherever possible. And this time it seemed to me that
_finesse_ could be employed, that I could persuade the Duc de
Montpensier to do my bidding, if only I could get speech with him upon a
suitable occasion.
"The difficulty was, of course, to find a suitable occasion, to manage
to meet the prince at some time when he was amusing himself _incognito_
and unattended by his suite. All princes do these things, and it is not
necessary to belong to the secret police to find out when and where. I
asked Clarisse, about whom I need only tell you that she was beautiful,
and that she loved me. Ah, dear Clarisse! But this is no place for
sentimental memories.
"'I should not wonder,' Clarisse said, 'if he were to be at the next
masked ball at the Closerie des Lilas.'
"'Eh! what?' I interrupted. 'A royal prince at a masked ball among the
students?'
"'And why not, seeing that he will be masked, and no one will ever know
of it who is not told?'
"There was reason in that: but a further difficulty presented itself.
"'His being there is little use to me if I cannot recognise him,' I
said.
"'Perhaps I could help you,' Clarisse answered.
"'You know him, then?'
"'He does not know that I know him,' she replied.
"'But he has spoken to you?'
"She nodded laughing.
"'And would again?'
"'Perhaps?'
"'And if I were there, and watching, you would make a sign to me?'
"'I might even do that, if you were to ask me nicely.'
"So Clarisse was enlisted as my ally, though without being taken into my
confidence; and I felt sure that with her help I should be able to carry
out the plan that I had made.
"'We may quarrel about you, Clarisse,' was all I told her; and at that
she laughed and clapped her hands.
"'That will be beautiful!' she said; for to be quarrelled about is a joy
to all women when they are young and beautiful.
"Then I made other arrangements, and told my friend Jacques Durand that
I should want him with me on that night.
"'You will render me,' I said, 'the help that circumstances suggest; but
more than that I shall not tell you.'
"For a secret is not a secret any longer, when more than one man knows
it. Time enough that Jacques should know my secret when the days had
passed, and the night of the masked ball arrived.
"It came before the week was out, and there can be little need for me to
tell you what it looked like. You may still see the same thing at any
time in Paris, when the students are keeping carnival.
"A vast room with a polished floor, and galleries running round it,
where they served refreshments; a profusion of gaily-coloured lamps
suspended from the ceiling; a string band that played the tunes that set
your feet dancing whether you would or no; a mob of men and girls all
gaily and fantastically attired--a goodly proportion of them in masks
and dominoes, and all of them, or nearly all, uproarious in their
behaviour. Such was the scene through which I strode, in the garb of
Mephistopheles, to answer for Montpensier.
"Jacques followed close behind me in the costume of a mediaeval
jester--a costume which, I allow, was scarcely appropriate to the
occasion. But I had no time to think of that; for Clarisse, dressed as
the Queen of Sheba, was already beckoning to me.
"'Keep near,' she whispered. 'When the time comes, I will hold up two
fingers to you, thus.'
"So I kept near, and saw man after man come up, and speak to her, and go
away again. My patience was sorely tried; and I began to think that she
had led me on a vain chance, after all. My eyes had begun to wander
about the room when Jacques recalled my attention, saying--
"'Look there, Stromboli! look!'
"I looked. A tall figure, in the guise of a Spanish Inquisitor, masked
beyond all possibility of recognition, was bending down and talking to
Clarisse. Her eyes caught mine, and she lifted her two fingers, giving
the preconcerted signal. The hour had come.
"'Now, Jacques,' I whispered, 'I rely on you. Support me in this, and
you shall see how revolutions can be helped upon their way by unexpected
means.'
"'But what----'
"'Wait,' I interrupted. 'The time for explanations will come
afterwards. Now is the time to act.'
"And so saying, I stepped forward and slapped my Spanish Inquisitor
violently on the back.
"'What is the meaning of this, sir?' I cried angrily. 'What do you mean
by insulting a lady who is here under my escort?'
"At first I thought he would have tried to strike me; but, with an
effort, he restrained himself.
"'You make a mistake, sir,' he answered. 'I do not think the lady
complains of having been insulted. If she does, I am quite ready to
apologise to her.'
"He looked at her, as though appealing to her to say something to save
the situation, and I doubt not that, being frightened, she would have
said it, had I not made haste to speak again before she had time to do
so.
"'You will apologise? Well and good, sir, provided that you apologise
to me as well as to Madame. But an apology from a masked man is an
apology that one does not accept. Take off your mask, or I shall take
it off for you, and insist upon satisfaction for this insult.'
"But to unmask was, of course, the one thing that he would not do--that
was what I had foreseen when I had laid this plan. And the next thing
that I heard was the voice of another masked man--some courtier
evidently--whispering in my ear--
"'Don't make a fool of yourself. You're talking to the Duc de
Montpensier. It mustn't be known that he was here.'
"I had expected something of that sort, however, and was ready with my
reply.
"'I don't believe you,' I said, with dignity. 'It is no use to romance
like that with Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski. The story is the lie
of a coward who dares not face the consequences of his misbehaviour.'
"Again the man approached and whispered--
"'If money is what you want to stop this row--'
"They were in such a quandary, you see, that they were ready to bribe me
not to expose them. But I was a revolutionist, not a blackmailer, and
this fear of exposure, thus candidly confessed, was the thing that I had
relied upon to help me to my end. I took no notice of the offer, but
turned again to my other masked antagonist, saying--
"'I give you your choice, sir, to unmask and apologise, or to give me
satisfaction this very evening. I undertake to provide the place and
the weapons. An affair of honour can be settled as well by candlelight
as by daylight, and you are quite welcome to fight me with your mask on
if you prefer it.'
"He was a brave man--I will do him that justice--and I had pushed him
into a very awkward corner. For a minute or two he conferred in hasty
whispers with his friend, and, without troubling to listen, I overheard
fragments of their colloquy.
"'Mustn't let all Paris ring with this.'
"'Anything to avoid a scandal.'
"'Only an affair of five minutes.'
"'Teach the noisy braggart the lesson he deserves.'
"Then, when I thought the conference had lasted long enough--
"'Your decision, sir?' I demanded.
"It was the masked friend who answered, speaking very quietly--
"'Provided that we can get away from here without being followed by a
crowd, we are at your service.'
"'That is easy,' said I, in the same tone. 'We have only to behave as
though we were reconciled, and sit together for a minute at one of these
refreshment tables.'
"'It was agreed. The crowd took no further notice of us, for little
disturbances of that kind were usual enough at the Closerie des Lilas.
Five minutes later the four of us were seated together in a carriage,
driving to the house in which I had hired a room in readiness for this
affair--a long, empty room above a shop that was for the moment without
a tenant.
"The duelling-swords were there, the blinds were drawn, and the shutters
closed, and a sufficiency of candles stood ready to be lighted; but one
more desperate effort was made to keep the peace.
"'If my friend is willing to unmask here----'
"'He can unmask or not, as he likes,' I directed Jacques to answer; 'but
I shall expect him to fight in any case.'
"'That is absolutely final?'
"'Absolutely.'
"'Very well. It is an unpleasant business. Let us make haste and get it
over.'
"So lots were drawn for stations and for weapons. The lights were
arranged, so far as possible, so as to favour neither of us. Still
wearing our masks, but stripped of every trimming of our fancy costumes
which could hinder the freedom of our movement, we advanced to the
centre of the floor.
"The toss of the coin had given Jacques the direction of the combat. He
made us cross our blades at the usual distance from each other, and gave
the usual signal--
"'_Allez, messieurs!_"
"My antagonist could fence well. It was, no doubt, because of his skill
with the small-sword that he had consented to this meeting. He meant to
make it clear to me that he had spared my life, and then trust to my
gratitude and my sense of honour to keep his secret. But though he was
a good fencer, Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski was a better.
"You know the trick of fence which the French call _enlacer le fer_.
After a cautious pass or two, I tried that, with the result that I
whirled my opponent's sword out of his hand.
"'Try again, sir, when you are ready,' I said, lowering my point.
"He tried again, fighting more viciously this time, but with no more
effect. Again he found himself in one corner of the room and his weapon
in another.
"'Perhaps, sir, Fortune will be kinder to you the third time,' I
suggested; and for the third time he advanced and faced me.
"This time I played with him longer. I took the _ligne basse_, which is
always fatal, and withheld my lunge at the moment when he saw clearly,
that, if I had chosen, I could have run him through. Not until nearly
two minutes had elapsed did I give the quick turn of my wrist which
disarmed him as before.
"Then I felt that I had sufficiently proved myself, and that the moment
for my great _coup_ had come.
"'Sir,' I said, bowing courteously to this proud prince, 'I honour you
for your courage in this encounter with one who has the advantage over
you in point of strength and skill. I could have unmasked you, or I
could have killed you. Your life and your reputation have been equally
at my mercy; and now I am willing to make you a free gift of both, on
one condition.'
"The answer was brave enough.
"'I have asked no favour from you, sir.'
"'It is an easy condition, sir,' I continued, 'or I would not affront
you by proposing it. I only ask your promise that, whatever may happen,
whatever the provocation, you, as commander of the artillery, will never
cause a gun to be fired upon the people of Paris.'
"He laughed. I imagine he thought he was dealing with a lunatic.
"'Is that all?' he said. 'I promise gladly. Nothing could be further
from my wish than to use the guns of the French artillery against
Frenchmen. Shall we now say "Good evening"?'
"He was going, but I stopped him.
"'Stay,' I said; 'it is necessary that I should have that in writing.'
"'My word, then,' he objected, 'is not enough for you?'
"'It is enough for me,' I answered; 'but I must have something to show
to my friends in proof that I have executed the task which they
entrusted to me. Here is the document to which I desire your
signature.'
"I produced the slip of paper. These were the words upon it--
"'_I, Louis Charles, Duc de Montpensier, in consideration of my life
having been spared in fair fight by Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski,
do hereby engage that in no event--not even in the event of
revolution--will I, as commander of the artillery, cause or permit the
cannon to be used against the people._"
"'_As witness my hand._'
"'Now, M. le Duc,' I said, as I handed it to him, 'if you will sign this
document, I pledge my word of honour that the world shall know nothing
of it so long as you are faithful to the undertaking which it expresses.
On the other hand, if you prefer not to sign it, I am willing to renew
the combat.'
[Illustration: "'If you prefer not to sign, I am willing to renew the
combat."'"]
"Yet again the prince stepped aside to confer with his companion. I
caught odd words and phrases of their conversation--'Dangerous madman.'
'Official denial.' 'Only way out of it.' 'Avoid a scandal at all
hazards.' But I affected not to hear, and waited.
"'Well, M. le Duc?' I said at last.
"He laughed again.
"'Well, well, suppose I sign? You have pen and ink there? Thank you.
Even in the event of revolution? How ridiculous! As if there were any
chance of another revolution in this country?'
"'Nevertheless, M. le Duc,' I answered, watching him as he wrote his
name, and as both his masked friend and Jacques Durand witnessed the
signature--'nevertheless, M. le Duc, the wise man is he who is prepared
for all emergencies.'
* * * * *
"'We saluted ceremoniously, and drove away, this time in separate
carriages; and most of what remains of my story is in the history books.
All the world knows that the revolution came, as I anticipated, bursting
like a thunderclap in a clear sky. All the world knows that King Louis
Phillipe drove away from the Tuileries in a cab, and travelled to
England under the _alias_ of 'Mr. Smith,' hoping, as he explained, to
pass as the head of the English family of that name. But just one new
thing I can tell you--a thing that I learnt afterwards from one of the
royal servants, a maid who waited upon the Duchesse de Montpensier and
became a good Republican after the dynasty had fallen.
"'Ah, that scene!' she said to me. 'That terrible scene! Never shall I
forget it!'
"'What scene, Babette?' I asked her.
"'What scene?' she repeated, and then described it to me.
"'It was on that dreadful morning when the news came to us that Paris
had, as we said, gone mad, and the people were on their way from Saint
Antoine to batter down the palace gates. I was alone with the Duchess,
who was crying. I was trying to console her, telling her that the
police would soon take all the wicked rioters to prison; and as I did
this the door opened, and who should enter, unannounced, but Queen Marie
Amelie herself. Ah, she was a woman of spirit, though she was old, was
Queen Marie Amelie!
"'"Where is Montpensier?" she asked, without a word of greeting.
"'It was no time for idle forms of etiquette, so the Duchess stepped to
the other door of her boudoir and called down the passage, just as any
common woman might.
"'A minute later M. le Duc entered. He was dressed as though for a
journey, and his face was pale--I do not think I ever saw a paler face.
Ignoring my presence, the Queen broke out into reproaches.
"'"Montpensier! For shame, Montpensier! Your father's throne in peril,
and you strike no blow for it!"
"'If possible, his pallor deepened. Even a girl, as I was, could see
that there was some struggle, which I did not understand, proceeding in
his mind.
"'"What would you have me do, my mother?"' he asked, trembling before
her.
"'"What to do?" she repeated. "Was it for this, then, that you were
given the command of the artillery--that you should tell us in the day
of trouble that you don't know what to do? For shame, Montpensier! And,
once more, for shame! Can't you bring out your guns and shoot this
rabble down? Better to die at your post----"
"'He answered, "Anything is better, my mother, than that the French guns
should be turned on the French people.'
"'"And to think that it is my own son who speaks thus to me! To think
that I have lived to learn that I am the mother of a coward!"
"'It was clear that the taunt stung him to the quick. I thought that it
must move him to take up the challenge and offer to risk his life
against any odds. But no; he stood his ground and answered, with a
cold, impassive stare--
"'"My mother, if I told you that I have given my plighted word to act as
I am acting, you would not believe me; but so it is. Some day, it may
be, you will know the truth. In the meantime I would rather be thought
a coward than know myself to be a liar."
"'"Yes, Montpensier, you are a coward! Coward--coward!" she hissed, and
turned upon her heel and left him.
"'And he was a coward, wasn't he?' Babette commented. 'Even a
Republican like you must think of him as a coward.'
"'No, no, Babette,' I answered; 'he was no coward. He was an honourable
man who faithfully kept the pledge that had been extracted from him by
Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'
"And then, in answer to her questions, I told her as much of the truth
as it was good for her to know, and also described to her the last scene
of all in this remarkable adventure.
"I now come to it. Observe!
"The populace, as you know, besieged the Tuileries, and the king and the
royal family drove away in cabs. I was in the crowd, and as the Duc de
Montpensier came out of the gate, I advanced a step or two to speak to
him.
"'M. le Duc,' I said, "you are an honourable man, and you have kept your
word. You did not use your guns against the people. Good. Accept my
congratulations, and let me return to you the written undertaking which
you gave me, in order that you may use it, if need be, to rehabilitate
your reputation with your friends.'
"'I thank you, sir,' he answered, bowing gravely, as he took the paper
from me. 'I now understand that a revolutionist may also be a man of
honour.'
"He whipped up the horses and drove off, and I have never seen him
since. But now you know how I made my first appearance in any
revolution, and what was my meaning when I said that it was I who
brought about the overthrow of the Orleanists in 1848."