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THE SUNSET SERIES.By Subscription, per Year, Nine Dollars. February 22, 1894.Entered at the New York Post-Office as second-class matter.
Copyright 1891, by J. S. OGILVIE.
The Hero OfThe People.
BYAlex. Dumas.
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THE HERO OF THE PEOPLE.
A HISTORICAL ROMANCEOFLOVE, LIBERTY AND LOYALTY.
BY ALEX. DUMAS.Author of "The Queen's Necklace," "The Three Musketeers,""Balsamo the Magician," "Monte Cristo," "Taking the Bastile,""Chicot the Jester," etc.
TRANSLATED FROM THE AUTHOR'S REVISEDLATEST EDITION.
BYHENRY LLEWELLYN WILLIAMS
NEW YORK:J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,57 ROSE STREET.
_Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1892, by A. E. Smith &Co., in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington._
THE HERO OF THE PEOPLE.
CHAPTER I.
LOCKSMITH AND GUNSMITH.
The French Revolution had begun by the Taking of the Bastile by thepeople of Paris on the Fourteenth of July, 1789, but it seemed to havereached the high tide by King Louis XVI, with his Queen Marie Antoinetteand others of the Royal Family, leaving Versailles, after somesanguinary rioting, for the Capital, Paris.
But those who think, in such lulls of popular tempests, that all themischief has blown over, make a mistake.
Behind the men who make the first onset, are those who planned it andwho wait for the rush to be made and, then, while others are tried orsatisfied, glide into the crowds to stir them up.
Mysterious agents of secret, fatal passions, they push on the movementfrom where it paused, and having urged it to its farthest limit, thosewho opened the way are horrified, at awakening to see that othersattained the end.
At the doorway of a wine saloon at Sevres by the bridge, over the Seine,a man was standing who had played the main part, though unseen, in theriots which compelled the Royal Family to renounce an attempt to escapeout of the kingdom like many of their sycophants, and go from VersaillesPalace to the Tuileries.
This man was in the prime of life: he was dressed like a workingman,wearing velveteen breeches shielded by a leather apron with pockets suchas shinglers wear to carry nailes in, or blacksmith-farriers orlocksmiths. His stockings were grey, and his shoes had brass buckles; onhis head was a fur cap like a grenadier's cut in half or what is callednowadays an artillerist's busby. Grey locks came straggling from underits hair and mingled with shaggy eyebrows; they shaded large bulgingeyes, keen and sharp, quick, with such rapid changes that it was hard totell their true color. His nose was rather thick than medium, the lipsfull, the teeth white, and his complexion sunburnt.
Without being largely built, this man was well formed: his joints werenot course and his hands were small and might have seemed delicate butfor their being swart like those of workers in metal.
Despite the vigor of the biceps muscle shown from his having rolled uphis shirt sleeves, the skin was remarkable for its whiteness, and almostaristocratically fine.
Within his reach was a richly gold-inlaid double-barrelled fowlingpiece, branded with the name of Leclere, the fashionable gunsmith ofParis. You may ask how could such a costly firearm come into the handsof a common artisan? In times of riot it is not always the whitest handswhich grasp the finest weapons.
This man had only arrived from Versailles since an hour, and perfectlywell knew what had happened there: for to the landlord's questions as hesupplied him with a bottle of wine which he did not touch, he hadanswered as follows:
"The Queen is coming along with the King and the Dauphin. They hadstarted at half afternoon, having at last decided to live at theTuileries; in consequence of which for the future Paris would no longerwant for bread, as it would have in her midst, the Baker, the Baker'sWife and the Baker's Boy, as the popular slang dubbed the three'Royals'."
As for himself, he was going to hang round to see the procession go by.
This last assertion might be true, although it was easy to tell that hisglance was more often bent on the side towards Paris than Versailles,which led one to surmise that he did not feel obliged to tell Bonifaceexactly what his intentions were.
In a few seconds his attraction seemed gratified, for he spied a man,garbed much like himself, and appearing of the same trade, outlined onthe ridge of the road. He walked heavily like one who had journeyed fromafar.
His age appeared to be like his awaiter's, that is, what is called thewrong side of forty. His features were those of a common fellow with lowinclinations and vulgar instincts.
The stranger's eye was fastened on him with an odd expression as if hewished with a single scrutiny to measure the gold, if any, and the alloyin his composition.
When the wayfarer from the town was within twenty steps of this manlounging in the doorway, the latter stepped inside, poured the wine fromthe bottle into two glasses and returning to the doorstep with onetumbler held up, he hailed him:
"Hello, mate! it is pretty cold weather, and the road is a long one.What do you say to our having a drop of the red to cheer us up and warmus?"
The workman from town looked round to make sure that he was alone andthat the greeting was addressed to him.
"Speaking to me, are you?"
"Who else, as you are alone?"
"And offering me a go of wine?"
"Why not, as we are brothers of the file and bossing-hammer alike? orsome at nigh."
"Anybody can belong to a trade," said the other looking hard at thespeaker; "but the point is, are you a greenhand or a master of thecraft?"
"I reckon we shall tell how far we have learnt the trade while drinkingand chatting together."
"All right then!" said the other, walking up to the door, while theinviter showed the table set out with the wine. The man took thetumbler, eye
d the contents as if he had doubts, but they disappearedwhen the stranger poured himself out a second brimmer.
"Why, hang it all, are you getting so proud that you will not drink witha shopmate?"
"No, dash me if I am--here is Good Luck to the Nation!"
The workman's grey eyes were fixed on the toast-giver's.
He tossed off the glass at a draft, and wiped his lips on his sleeve.
"Deuse take it, but it is Burgundy wine," he remarked.
"And good liquor, too, eh? the vintage was recommended to me; andhappening along I dropped in, and I am not repenting it. But why not sitdown and be at home? there is some more in the bottle and more in thecellar when that is gone."
"I say, what are you working at here?"
"I have knocked off for the day. I finished a job at Versailles and I amgoing on to Paris with the royal procession as soon as it comes along."
"What procession?"
"Why, the King and the Queen and the little Prince, who are returning tothe city with the Fishmarket women and two hundred Assemblymen, allunder protection of Gen. Lafayette and the National Guard."
"So the fat old gentleman has decided to come to town?"
"They made him do it."
"I suspected so when I started for Paris at three this morning."
"Hello! did you leave Versailles at three without any curiosity aboutwhat was going off?"
"No, no, I itched to know what the gent was up to, being anacquaintance, a chum of mine, by the way, though I am not bragging; butyou know, old man, one must get on with the work. I have a wife andchildren to provide for, and it is no joke now. I am not working at theroyal forge."
The listener let what he heard pass without putting any questions.
"So, it was on a pressing job that you went back to Paris?" he onlyinquired.
"Just that, as it appears, and handsomely paid too," said the workman,jingling some coin in his pocket, "though it was paid for by a kind ofservant, which was not polite, and by a German, too, which blocked mefrom having any pleasant chatter during the work. I am not one for gab,but it amuses one if no harm is spoken of others."
"And it is no harm when harm is spoken of the neighbors, eh?"
Both men laughed, the stranger showing sound teeth against the other'ssnaggy ones.
"So, then, you have knocked off a good job, wanted doing in a hurry, andwell paid?" said the former, like one who advances only a step at atime, but still does advance. "Hard work, no doubt?"
"You bet it was hard. Worse than a secret lock--an invisible door. Whatdo you think of one house inside of another? some one who wants to hideaway, be sure. What a game he could have--in or out, as he pleased.'Your master in?' 'No, sir: just stepped out.' 'You are a liar--he camein just now.' 'You had better look, since you are so cocksure.' So theylook round, but I defy them to find the gentleman. An iron door, youwill understand, which closes on a beading-framed panel, while it runson balls in a groove as on wheels. On the metal is a veneer of old oak,so that you can rap with your knuckles on it and the sound is identicalwith that of a solid plank. I tell you when the job was done, it wouldtake me in myself."
"Where the mischief would you do a job like that? but I suppose youwould not tell even a pal?"
"I cannot tell because I do not know."
"What hoodwinked you?"
"Guess again and you will be wrong. A hack was waiting for me at thecity turnpike bars. A chap came up and asked: 'Are you so and-so?' Isaid 'I am.' 'Good, we are waiting for you: jump in.' So I got insidethe coach, where they bandaged my eyes, and after the wheels had goneround for about half an hour, a big carriage-door was opened. They tookme out and up ten steps of a flight of stairs into a vestibule, where Ifound a German servant who said to the others: 'Goot! make scarce ofyourseluffs; no longer want we you.' They slung their hook out of it,while the blinders were taken me off, and I was shown what I had to do.I had pitched into the work like a good hand, and was done in an hour.They paid me in bran-new gold, tied up my eyes, put me back in thecarriage, dropped me on the same spot where I was taken up, wished mesafe home--and here I am."
"Without your having seen anything, even out of the tail of the eye?Deuse take me if ever I heard of a bandage which would stop a mancatching a glimpse on one side or t'other. Better own up that you had apeep at something?" pursued the stranger.
"Well, I did make a misstep at the first stone of the stairs so that, inthrowing up my hands to keep from falling, I got a peep from itsdisarranging the handkerchief. I saw a regular row of trees on my lefthand which made me think that I was in some avenue. That is all, on myhonor."
"I can't say it is much. For the main avenue is long and more than onehouse has a carriage-doorway betwixt the St. Honore Coffeehouse and theBastile."
"The fact is," said the locksmith, scratching his head, "I don't think Iam up to telling the house."
The questioner appeared satisfied, although his countenance did notusually betray his feelings.
"But," exclaimed he, as if skipping to another topic, "are there no goodlocksmiths at Paris that they have to send to Versailles for one?"
The Hero of the People: A Historical Romance of Love, Liberty and Loyalty Page 1
