*XII*
_In which Toto is seen to change his politics twice a day--the morningsand the afternoons quarrel--In which Jean Pierre Andre Amar, "lefarouche," appears._
The fencing-master took great pains with his promising _debutant_, andnow at last thought he could trust him to give lessons. He gave himmuch advice, full of good sense. He must dress simply, not in anymarked fashion. And here were the two cockades, and two for Toto, whowas fitted with a toy sword, and had been taught to howl horribly ifFrancois said, "Citizen Capet," and to do the like if he cried,"Aristocrat!"
Francois, gay and a little anxious, followed Gamel for the first timeduring the lesson-hours into the _salle d'armes_. Toto came after themin full rig, with a cap and a huge white cockade. A dozen gentlemen,most of them young, were preparing to fence.
The poodle was greeted with "Bravo!" and strutted about on his hind legswith evident enjoyment of the approval.
"Wait here," said Gamel to Francois. "I will by and by give thee achance." Francois had, of course, been constantly in the room when thepatrons were absent, and it was now familiar. It had been part of theold hotel of some extinct nobleman, and was of unusual height, and quiteforty feet square, with tall windows at each end; a cushioned bench ranaround the walls, and above it hung wire masks, foils, sabers, and acurious collection of the arms of past ages and barbarous tribes.Chiefly remarkable were the many fine blades, Spanish or Eastern. Atthe side of the hall, a doorway led into the shooting-gallery, a lateadjunct since the English use of the pistol had been brought into thesettlement of quarrels made savage by the angry politics of the day. Onone of the walls of the fencing-room was a large sign on which waspainted: "Achille Gamel, _ci-devant_ Maitre d'Armes, Regiment du Duc deRohan-Chabot. Lessons in the small sword, saber, and pistol." The word"Duc" was chalked over, but was still easily to be made out.
Presently Gamel came to Francois in his shirt and breeches, foil inhand. "This way, Francois." As they slowly crossed the room, Gamelwent on to say in a low tone of voice: "Don't be too eager. Take it allas a matter of course. Don't be nervous. One must have had a seriousaffair or two before one gets over the foil fever. Remember, you arehere to teach, not to triumph. There are few here you cannot touch, butthat is not business."
"I understand," said Francois.
"I will give you for your lesson the best blade in Paris. You can teachhim nothing. He is my foster-brother, the Marquis de Ste. Luce."
"Ste. Luce!"
"Yes; he is here often."
As they approached, the great gentleman came to meet them, separatinghimself from the laughing group of younger men.
"_Ma foi!_" he exclaimed. "Is this your new blade, Gamel?" He caughtFrancois's appealing eye, and showed no sign of having known the thiefuntil they were apart from the rest and had taken their foils. Then hesaid quietly, "Does Gamel know?"
"Yes, monsieur. I saved his life in a row in the Cite, and he gives methis chance."
"Good! I shall not betray you. But beware! You must keep faith, andbehave yourself."
"Monsieur may trust me."
"And you can fence?"
"A little, monsieur."
"Well, then, on guard!" The marquis was pleased to praise the newteacher. "He has a supple wrist, and what a reach of arm!" At last hewent away to Gamel's room, where they were absent a half-hour. Theseprivate talks, Francois observed later, were frequent, especially withcertain of the middle-aged gentlemen who took here their morningexercise.
After this first introduction to business, Francois sat still when themarquis had left him. By and by the gentleman came back, and saying aword of encouragement to Francois, went away.
"Take M. de Lamerie, Francois," said Gamel; and turning to a gentlemannear by, added, "_A vous_, monsieur." Others began to select foils andto fence in couples, so that soon the hall rang with the click, click ofmeeting steel. Francois was clever enough to let his pupil get in atouch now and then, and meanwhile kept him and those who looked ondelighted with his natural merriment. He was soon a favorite. The dogwas made to howl at a tricolored cockade, and proved a great success.As to the fencing-lessons, Gamel was overjoyed, and as time ran on cameto trust and to like his thief, who began speedily to pick up the littlewell-mannered ways and phrases he heard about him. He liked well to beliked and to be praised for his skill, which week by week becamegreater, until none except M. Gamel and the marquis were able to meethim on equal terms. The master of arms was generous; the wages rose.The clothes Francois now wore were better, and when Gamel asked him tochoose a rapier for wear in the street, which was not yet forbidden, thepoor thief felt that he was in the full sunlight of fortune.
The afternoons were less to his taste. If a new pupil arrived, thecook, an old woman, let him in, and Gamel saw him in an anteroom andsettled terms and hours. The Jacobins came after two o'clock. Then theroom was unusually full. The poodle howled at the name of Louis Capet.Tricolored cockades were everywhere. The talk was of war and thefrontier, the ways of speech were guarded, the manners not those of themorning. These citizens were awkward, but terribly in earnest. Thepistol-gallery was much in favor; but at this deadly play Francois wasnever an expert. He did not like it, and was pleased when the Vicomtede Beausejour, a favored pupil, said: "'T is a coarse weapon, Francois.Ah, well enough to enable bulldog English to settle their disputes overa bone; but, _dame!_ quite unfit to be the arm of honor of gentlemen."This uncertain property of honor seemed to Francois a too insecure kindof investment. It was enough to have to take care of one's pocket; andhis being now well lined, Francois began to resent the possibility ofthose sudden changes of ownership which under other conditions he hadlooked upon as almost in the nature of things.
During this summer, and in the winter of '91 and '92, Gamel was at timesabsent for days. Whenever he returned he was for a week after in hismonosyllabic mood. Francois, who was keenly alive to his presentadvantages, and who saw how these absences interfered with theirbusiness, began to exercise his easily excited inquisitiveness, and tomeditate on what was beneath Gamel's frequent fits of abstraction. Hisown life had known disappointments, not always of his own making. Hedreaded new ones. The past of the Cite, Quatre Pattes, Despard, thosehaunting eyes of the marquis's widowed daughter, the choristers, theasylum, the mad street life--all the company of his uncertain days--weregone. Now, of late, he began to have a feeling of uneasy belief thatthings were once more about to change. Nor was the outer life of thecapital such as to promise tranquillity. A nation was about to becomeinsane. It was at this time like a man thus threatened: to-day it wassane, to-morrow it might be reeling over the uncertain line whichseparates the sound from the unsound. Had Francois been more interestedand more apprehensive, he was intelligent enough to have shared thedismay with which many Frenchmen saw the growth of tumultuous misrule.Indeed, the talk of the morning fencing-school should have taught himalarm. But he had formerly lived the life of the hour, even of theminute, and as long as he was well fed, housed, and clothed, his normalgood humor comfortably digested anxiety.
I should wrongly state a character of uncommon interest if I were togive the impression of a man who had merely the constant hilarity of ahappy child. He was apt to laugh where others smiled; but, as hematured, cheerful contentment was his usual mood, and with it, to thelast, the probability of such easily born laughter as radiated mirthupon all who heard it, like a companionable fire diffusing its generouswarmth. He was at this time doing what he most fancied. The companysuited him. He liked the tranquil ways of these courteous gentlemen.In a word, he was contented, and for a time lost all desire to seekchange or adventure. His satisfaction in the life made him more quietand perhaps more thoughtful. He had every reason to be cheerful, andcheerfulness is the temperate zone of the mind.
At times, on Sundays, in the summer of '92, he wandered into the countrywith Toto; but these holidays were rare. Now and then the habits ofyears brought again the longing f
or excitement; with the meal-hours herecovered his common sense, being a big fellow of sharp appetite and acamel-like capacity for substantial food.
The feud between the cockades broke out at this time in duels, which itbecame the fashion to drive to the Bois to see. Women of all classeslooked on and applauded, and few liked it if the affair failed to provegrave. Francois found it entertaining. The duels were, in fact, manyin the years of grace '91 and '92.
The morning pupils wore their hair in curls, dressed in short clothes,and defied the new-fashioned republican pantaloons, which were rising upto the armpits and descending the legs. They carried sword-canes, orsticks like the club of Hercules; a few still wore the sword. Brown andgray wore the afternoon citizens, with long straight hair, shortwaistcoats, and long and longer _culottes_ above large steelshoe-buckles, all that were silver having been given to aid the funds ofa bankrupt government. The morning, which knew very well who came inthe later hours, abused the afternoon, and this portion of the dayreturned those compliments in kind.
Now and then the morning had a little affair with the afternoon, for theTerror was not yet. In cafes and theaters there were constantoutbreaks, and men on both sides eager enough to sustain opinion by thesword or the pistol. When one of what Francois called "our littledomestic difficulties" was on hand, there was excitement and interestamong Royalists and Jacobins, with much advice given, and huge disgustwhen monsieur was pinked by Citizen Chose of the Cordeliers or of theJacobin Club.
If the reverse obtained, and some gentleman of ancient name condescendedto run Citizen Chose through the lungs, there was great rejoicing beforenoon and black looks after it. Here were a half-dozen affairs in amonth, for these were the first blades in France.
There were laws against the duel, but the law changed too fast forobedience, and fashion, as usual, defied it. Hatred and contempt wereready at every turn. Two abbes fought, and what was left of the greatladies went to see and applaud.
This duel between morning and afternoon began to amuse Paris. Butpretty soon neither the master of arms nor his assistant was as wellpleased at the excessive attention thus drawn to the school of fencing.Gamel disliked it for reasons which he did not set forth, and Francoisbecause he felt that his disturbing readiness to turn back to a life ofperil and discomfort was like enough to be reinforced by coming events.He adored good living, yet could exist on crusts. He was intelligent,yet did not like to be forced to think. An overmastering sense of theludicrous inclined him to take the world lightly. He liked ease, yetdelighted in adventure. He distrusted his own temperament. He had needto do so. Excitement was in the air. The summer of '92 was unquiet,and pupils were less numerous, so that Francois found time to wander.The autumn brought no change in his life, but Gamel became more and moreself-absorbed, and neglected his pupils. The gentlemen who fenced inthe mornings began to disappear, and the new year of 1793 came in withwar without and tumult within distracted France.
For several days before the 21st of January, 1793, strange faces werefrequently seen in the morning hours, or more often late at night.These passed into Gamel's room, and remained long. The marquis, morethoughtful than usual, came and went daily. Early on the 20th, Gameltold Francois that he should be absent until after the 21st, the day setfor the king to die. Francois asked no questions, and was not deeplygrieved to be left in the dark as to what was in contemplation. Duringthe previous week there had been sad faces in the morning hours. Thepupils were fewer; they were leaving Paris--and too many were leavingFrance. The Jacobins, with whom Francois fenced in the latter part ofthe day, were wildly triumphant. They missed Gamel when he was absent,and asked awkward questions. It was plain enough to his assistant thatthe master of this turbulent school was a Royalist _enrage_, as men thensaid. The assistant was much of his mind, but he was also far more loyalto one Francois than to the unfortunate king.
He was not surprised that at the hour of opening on the 21st no oneappeared. He sat thinking, and a little sorry for the humbled Louisrumbling over the crowded streets to his doom. The prisons were alreadybecoming crowded; the richer bourgeoisie had become submissive. Themore able and aggressive Jacobins were about to seize the reins of powerfrom the sentimental Girondists.
"Let us think a little," said Francois to his friend and counselor Toto.The poodle woke up, and sat attentive. "It is disagreeable to have tothink, _mon ami_; but there are our heads. Without a head one cannoteat or enjoy a bone. Shall we go to the frontier, and be shot at, andshoot? _Dame!_ a thousand bullets to one guillotine. We do not likethat. Let us change our opinions, Toto, join the clubs, and talkliberty. Yes; that is thy opinion. Must we go back to the streets? 'Tis good nowadays to be obscure, and thou art becoming a publiccharacter, Toto."
He read the gazette awhile, practised with the pistol, and taught thedog a new trick. Still no one came, and the day wore on to noon. Atthis hour the bell rang, and the poodle barked, as was his custom."Learn to hold thy tongue," said the master. The servant had gone, likeall Paris, to see a brave man die.
Francois opened the outer door. A strongly built man he had neverbefore seen entered, and, pushing by him, went without a word into thegreat room beyond.
"Hallo, citizen! What dost thou want?" said Francois, following him.
"Art thou Citizen Gamel?"
Francois was not; and what could he do for the citizen?
The man for a moment made no reply, but glanced searchingly about thehall, while the assistant looked him over as keenly. He was a personagenot easily to be forgotten.
"No one else here?" he asked.
"No one."
The questioner was a man not over thirty-five, of colossal make, andwith something about him which Toto resented. He began to bark, andthen, of a sudden, fled under a bench, and watched the newcomer.
His features were out of keeping with his height and breadth. TheJacobin had small, restless eyes, a diminutive nose, perhaps broken, anda large-lipped mouth, which, as he talked, was drawn to one side asthough from some loss of power on the other half of the face.
"I am Jean Pierre Andre Amar," he said, with an air of importance.
"Will the citizen be seated?"
He would not. He desired to see Citizen Gamel.
Francois regretted his absence on business. Amar, later known as _lefarouche_, desired to see the list of pupils, in order to select anunoccupied morning hour. Unluckily, the master had the keys. Thecitizen wished to fence, and could come in the morning only; he was busyafter that. Francois would mention his name; perhaps the hours of themorning were full, but Citizen Gamel would no doubt arrange.
The man with the wandering mouth stood in thought, said he would return,and then asked abruptly:
"Art thou his assistant?"
"Yes."
"And thy name?"
"Francois."
"Has Citizen Francois a _carte-civique_--a certificate of citizenship?"
Francois knew better than to refuse. "Fetch me the card, Toto. 'T ison the chair in my room. _Va_--go!"
"Thou art careless, Citizen Francois."
Francois, on this, became short of speech. Toto ran back. "Give it tothe citizen."
Amar took it, saying: "It is correct. And so a dog is sent to fetch thesafeguard the people provide?"
"'AND SO A DOG IS SENT TO FETCH THE SAFEGUARD THE PEOPLEPROVIDE?'"]
Francois laughed. "The citizen is particular. But here we are goodrepublicans, and have given our useful arms to the army, and think to gosoon ourselves. Shall I give the citizen a lesson?"
No; he would call again. The section wished the names of all who fencedhere. As the citizen reached the door, he said, turning:
"Thou art the man who used to laugh in the show. Robespierre told me ofwhat fortune was read on his palm. A great man. Take care of thy ownfortune. Thou art not of the club. It may be thou wilt laugh no more."This while the distorted mouth went to left and came back, and the smalleyes winked and wandered. Francois thanke
d him. He would join theclub, the list should be ready, and so on.
When alone again, Francois began to reflect on what was likely tohappen. At any time, Amar might return with a guard. On the 23d, asusual during this sad week, there were no morning pupils; and stillGamel came not, and Francois had to manage the turbulent afternoonpupils alone.
The Adventures of François Page 14
