*XVI*
_How Francois warns the Marquis de Ste. Luce, and of the battle on thestaircase between the old day and the new._
It was now close to nine, and again a bright, cold, starry night. Along circuit brought him to the highroad. A mile away he struck into abroad avenue, and, never pausing, pushed on. His sense of locality wasacute and like that of an animal. Once or twice he was sure that heheard dull noises behind him when the sharp night wind blew from thevillage.'
"Ah, Toto," he murmured, "keep thou close to heel. This is our greatestadventure. I would we were out of it. Ah, the chateau!" He ran acrossthe flowerbeds, and with long leaps up the steps, and sounded a strongsummons on the knocker of the great door. A servant opened it. "Whereis the marquis?" What the man said he did not wait to hear. The loftyhall was dark, but the principal staircase was lighted faintly fromabove. Without a word, Francois hurried past the servant and up thestairs. From the broad landing he saw beyond him a lighteddrawing-room, and heard the notes of a violoncello. There was thewoman, pale and beautiful, in black, her face upturned, the boy holdingbefore her a sheet of music. The human richness of the cello's tonessounded through the great chamber. Where had he seen the like? Ah,that picture in the vestry of Notre Dame--the face of St. Cecilia! Hehad a moment of intense joy at having come. Till then he had doubted ifit were wise. As he stood, the marquis came toward him quickly from theside of the room, and two gentlemen left a card-table and started up.
Francois went in at once, meeting the marquis within the room. Themusic ceased; the woman cried, "_Mon Dieu!_" Every one stared at thisstrange figure.
"What is it, my man? _Venire St. Gris!_ 't is my thief! This way," andhe led him aside into a little room, while the rest, silent andtroubled, looked after them.
"Monsieur, to waste no words, these cursed peasants are on their way todo here what mischief the devil knows. It is you they want. There is afool, one Despard, who leads them. But, _Dieu!_ there is small time tothink."
Francois, breathless, panting, stood looking about him, now as alwaysobservant, and curious as to this wonderful room and this impassivegentleman. Toto, as well blown as his master, recognizing the value ofa soft rug, dropped, head on legs, meaning to have at least the minute'sluxury and rest.
The marquis stood still in thought a moment. "I am greatly obliged toyou; and this is twice--twice. I expected trouble, but not so soon.Come this way."
Francois followed. Toto kept one eye on him, and slept with the other.As they reentered the great salon, the two gentlemen and Mme. Renee, allvisibly agitated, came to meet them. "What is it?" they asked. Themarquis forestalled further inquiry.
"My daughter, our kindly peasants will be here in an hour--no, half anhour, or less. Resistance is useless. To fly is to confess the need tofly; it is not to my taste. You gentlemen are better out of this. Goat once--at once!"
"Yes, go!" said madame. "You cannot help us, and can only make badworse."
They wasted no time, and few words passed. The little drama playeditself quickly.
"Adieu, madame!" Madame courtesied. The boy walked over and stood byhis grandfather. He looked up at his clear-cut face, with its coldsmile, and then at the backs of the retiring gentlemen. He had a boy'ssense of these being deserters. They were gone in hot haste.
Mme. Renee came nearer. "We thank you--I thank you"; and she put outher hand. Francois took it awkwardly. A touch of the hand of thishigh-bred, saintly lady, _grande dame_ and true woman, singularlydisturbed the man. The tremor of a strange emotion ran over him. Helet fall the soft hand, and drew himself up to the full of his unusualheight, saying: "It is little--very little."
"And now you must go," she said; "and at once."
"Of course--of course," said Ste. Luce. "Out the back way. Victor willshow you." There were no further thanks. All such common men hadserved the great noble; it seemed of the nature of things. But the womansaid:
"God protect you! God will know to thank you. I cannot fitly. Go--go!"
"I do not mean to go," said Francois. "Hark! it is too late." He knewnot then, or ever, why he stayed. The boy looked up at him. Here wasanother kind of man, and not a gentleman, either. Why did he not go?
An old majordomo came with uncertain steps of nervous haste, crying:"The servants are gone, monsieur! The people are coming up the avenue!_Mon Dieu!_"
"Indeed! Now be off with you, Master Thief."
"No." His head said, "Go"; his heart said, "Stay."
"By St. Denis, but you are a fool!"
Francois muttered that he had been that always, and then felt the handof the boy touch his own. He called: "Toto! Toto! We will stay." Andthe dog, at ease in all society, selected a yet softer rug.
The marquis troubled himself no further as to Francois. He went out ofthe room, and was back in a minute, while the uproar increased, and Mme.Renee, at the window, pleaded with the thief, urging him to fly, orcried: "They are coming! Oh, a crowd--a mob--with torches and arms!The saints protect us! Why will you not go? Oh, _mon pere_--father!thou hast thy rapier. What canst thou against hundreds--hundreds?"
The marquis smiled. "_Costume de rigueur_, my dear. There will be nobloodshed, my child."
"And they will all run," cried the boy. "And if grandpapa has tosurrender, he must give up his sword. When my papa was taken inAmerica, he had to--"
"Hush!" said the mother. The lad was singularly outside of the tragicshadows of the hour.
Francois all this while stood near the window, his cloak cast back, hisqueer, smile-lit face intent now on the mob without, now on the woman,the boy, the man. "_Dame!_" he muttered. "We are in dangerously highsociety." He set his knapsack aside, cast off his cloak, loosened hisrapier in its sheath, looked to the priming of his pistols, and waitedto see what would happen when this yelling thing out yonder should burstinto action.
"They must have made mad haste, madame."
"They are on the terrace. Mother of Heaven!" cried the woman. "Theywait! A man is speaking to them. They have torches. Some go--some goto right around the house." A stone splintered the window-glass, andshe fell back. "Wretches!"
The marquis turned to her. "Stay here. I go to receive our guests."
"No, no!"
"Do as I tell thee. Be still." She caught the boy to her, and fellinto a chair, sobbing. The marquis called to the quaking majordomo:"Take those two candelabra. Set them at the foot of the staircase--thefoot." The old servant obeyed without words. The marquis went by him.He seemed to have forgotten Francois, who glanced at Mme. Renee andfollowed the master of the house.
There had been a moment's lull outside. The double stairway swept downto a landing, and then in one noble descent to the great deserted hall,where the faded portraits of lord and lady looked down among armor andtrophies of war and chase.
"Put those lights there--and there. Get two more--quick! Set them onthe brackets below. One must see. Put out the lights in thedrawing-room. What, you here yet, Master Thief? What the devil are youdoing here? The deuce!" As he spoke they were standing together on thebroad landing, before them the great stair which led down to theilluminated hall below. The marquis had meant to meet these peopleoutside; he was quiet, cool, the master of many resources. Surprised atthe suddenness of the outbreak, he still counted, with the courage ofhabit, on his personal influence and address. As the marquis spoke, theroar without broke forth anew. A shower of stones clattered on door andwall and window with sharp crash and tinkle of breaking glass. It wasfollowed by an indescribable tumult--shouts, laughter, the shrill voicesof women, a multitudinous appeal to fear, ominous, such as no man couldhear unmoved. The animal we call a mob was there--the thing of moods,like a madman, now destructive, now as a brute brave, now timid as ahouse-fly.
They beat on the great doors, and of a sudden seemed to discover thatthe servants, in flying, had not secured them. The doors gave way, andthose in front were
hurled into the hall by the pressure of thosebehind. In an instant it was half full of peasants armed with allmanner of rude weapons. A dozen had torches of sheep's wool wrappedabout pitchforks and soaked with tar. Their red flames flared up, withcolumns above of thick smoke. There were women, lads. None hadmuskets. Some looked about them, curious. Those without shouted andpressed to get in; but this was no longer easy. A few of the boldestbegan to move up the lower steps of the great staircase. At the landingabove, in partial obscurity, stood the marquis and Francois. On thenext rise behind them were Mme. Renee and her boy, unnoticed, unwillingto be left alone. The stairway and all above it were darker than thered-lighted hall, where ravage was imminent. A man struck with abutcher's mallet a suit of armor. It rang with the blow, and fell withclang and rattle, hurting a boy, who screamed. The butcher leaped onthe pedestal and yelled, waving one of the iron gauntlets. They whohesitated, leaderless, at the foot of the dark ascent turned at thesound of the tumbled past.
The marquis cried aloud, "Halt, there!"
Some mischievous lad outside cast a club at the side window of the hall,and the quartered arms of Ste. Luce, De Rohan, and their kin fell withsharp, jangling notes on the floor and on the heads of the crowd.
"Halt, I say!" The voice rang out of the gloom, strong and commanding.The marquis's sword was out. "Draw, my charming thief. _Morituri tesalutant_!"
"What?" cried Francois--"what is that?"
"Nothing. We are about to die; that is all. Let us send some couriersto Hades. You should have gone away. Now you are about to die."
Francois drew his long rapier. He was strangely elated. "We are goingto die, Toto." The dog barked furiously. "Keep back!" cried hismaster. Then he heard Pierre Despard's shrill voice cry out: "Surrender,Citizen Ste. Luce, or it will be worse for thee." The mob screamed:"Despard! Despard!" He was hustled forward, amid renewed shouts,cries, crash of falling vases, and jangling clatter of broken glass.The reluctant leader tried to keep near to the door. The mob was ofother mind. He was thrust through the press to the foot of the stair,with cries of "Vive Despard! Vive Despard!" The people on the stair,fearing no resistance, were pushed up, shouting, "_A bas les emigres!_"
"Now, then!" cried the marquis. "Get back there, dogs!" The two bladesshot out. A man fell; another, touched in the shoulder, screamed, andleaped over the balustrade; the rest fell away, one man on another, withshrieks and groans. Francois caught a lad climbing on the outside ofthe gilded rail, and, with a laugh, threw him on the heads of thosebelow. A joy unknown before possessed the thief--the lust of battle, thesense of competency. He took in the whole scene, heart, mind, and bodyalive as never before.
"_Sang de St. Denis_! You are a gallant man. But we are lost. Theywill be on our backs in a moment; I hear them." Amid a terrible din,stones and sticks flew. A pebble struck the marquis in the face."_Dame!_" he cried, furious, and darted down a step or two, the quickrapier mercilessly stabbing here and there. One madder than the restset a torch to a priceless tapestry. It flared up, lighting the greatspace and the stair, and doing in the end no harm. Despard, terrified,was pushed forward to the edge of the fallen bodies on the staircase.
"Surrender!" he called out in a shriek of fear, for here before him werethe two men he most dreaded on earth. The noise was indescribable. Thebutcher beat with the iron gauntlet on a shield beside him; then hethrew the steel glove at Francois. It flew high. There was a cry fromthe space behind. The little boy screamed shrilly, "They have killed mymama!"
Francois looked behind him. There was now light enough, and too much.He saw the woman lying, a convulsed, tumbled heap, on the stair. Themarquis glanced behind him, and lost his cool quietude. He ran down thestair, stabbing furiously. A half-dozen dead and wounded lay beforehim. In an instant he was back again beside Francois, his face bleedingfrom the stones and sticks thrown at him. Francois was standing, talland terrible in his anger, a pistol in his hand.
"Shall I kill him, monsieur?"
"By Heaven, yes!"
The pistol resounded terribly in the vaulted space, and the brute whohad thrown the gauntlet, swaying, screamed shrilly, and tumbled--dead.
"Give me your hand!" cried the marquis. "Thank you, monsieur; the devilhath a recruit. Now follow me. Let us kill and die. To hell with thisrabble!"
"Wait," cried Francois, and, running down the steps, put out a long armand caught Despard. He hauled him savagely after him, calling out,"Hold the stair a moment!" In an instant he was on the landing above,with his prey. His sword he let fall, and set a pistol to Despard'shead. The terror of the trapped Jacobin was pitiful. He prayed forlife. He would let them all go; he would--he would. Francois swung himround to face the suddenly silenced mob. "Keep still, or I will scatteryour brains, fool! Tell them to go! Tell them to go, or, _sang deDieu!_ thou art a dead man!"
Pierre screamed out his orders: "Go--go--all of you. I order--go!"
The beast he had trained and led was of no such mind. A man called out,"Die like a man, coward!" A stone or two flew. One struck him. Thestorm broke out anew.
"Say thy prayers. Thou art dead. Shall I kill him, monsieur?"
"No, no; not that man--not him!"
"Mercy!" screamed Despard.
"The deuce!" laughed Francois. "It gets warm, monsieur. What to dowith this coward? Keep still, insect!"
The mob had for a little time enough of these terrible swordsmen on thestair. It was awed, helpless. Below lay, head down or athwart, threedead men, and certain wounded, unable to crawl. The mob shrank away,and, with eyes red in the glare, swayed to and fro, indecisive,swearing. For a moment no more missiles were thrown. They awaited theexpected attack from the rear of the house.
Pierre hung, a limp, inert thing, one arm on the balustrade, the thief'sstrong clutch on his neck, making his shivering bulk a shield againststick and stone.
"It will soon be over," said the marquis, quietly. "There! I thoughtso."
A dull roar was heard, and the crash of broken glass from somewherebehind them.
This signal set loose the cowed mob. Clubs and stones flew. Somethingstruck Pierre. He squealed like a hurt animal, pain and terror in thechildlike cry. More men crowded in, and the mass, with shout and cry,surged forward, breaking mirrors and vases, with frantic joy in theclatter of destruction.
"It is serious this time," cried the marquis. "Adieu, my brave fellow."Another tapestry flared up, slowly burning. "Let us take toll,Francois. Come!"
"Good, monsieur! But my fool here--"
At this moment the crowd at the door divided. A dozen soldiers brokein, and with them the man of the wart--Gregoire.
"_Dame!_" cried Francois; "the Commissioner Gregoire! The wart! It istime to leave."
"Order, here," shouted Gregoire, "in the name of the law!" The guardpushed in and made a lane. One or two persistent rioters were collaredand passed out. A dead silence fell on all. The shreds of the tapestrydropped. The mob fell back.
"Help! help!" cried Pierre.
"_Morbleu!_ dost thou want to die?"
"It is over," said the marquis. "I prefer my peasants."
Gregoire called out, "Where is the mayor?" A reluctant little manappeared.
"Commissioner, these men have slain citizens," he said.
"And they did well. France wants order. Out with you all, or I shallfire on you. Citizens indeed! See to that stuff burning."
The peasants, awed, slunk away. Gregoire coolly mounted the stairs.
"Hold!" cried the marquis.
"I arrest thee in the name of the law! Here is my order."
The marquis took it.
"The light is bad," he said; "but I see it is in good form. The law Iobey--and muskets"; and then, in a half-whisper to Francois: "Run! run!I will hold the stairs."
Gregoire overheard him.
"The citizen _emigre_! I arrest him!" and he went up a step.
"Back!" cried the marquis, lunging fiercely at the
too adventurouscommissioner, who leaped down the stairway with the agility of alarm.
"Fire!" he cried.
"Thanks, monsieur; I can help you no more!" cried Francois. As hespoke, he hurled the unhappy Despard on top of the commissioner. Theyfell in a heap. The thief, catching up his rapier, was off and awaythrough the drawing-room, seeing, as he went, the woman lying on thefloor, her forehead streaming blood. He picked up his cloak andknapsack, and, followed by Toto, ran for his life down a long corridorto the left. At the end, he threw open a window, and dropped, with thedog under his arm, upon the roof of a portico over a side door. No onewas near. He called the dog, and fled through the gardens and into thewoods of the chase.
The Adventures of François Page 18
