*XX*
_Of how Francois gave Amar advice, and of how the marquis bought his ownhead._
It was now about May 26, when, at evening, a commissioner in a cockedhat, much plumed and scarfed, came into the dining-hall. Toto wasbetween his master's knees, and was being fed. Francois heard agray-haired old lady exclaim to a neighbor: "_Mon Dieu! cherie_, look!'T is the Terror in person."
The actor Champville cried out gaily: "I must practise that face. 'T isa fortune for the villain of a play. If ever I get out, it will beinestimable." Alas! he was in the next day's list,--the _corvee_, theycalled it,--and came no more to table. Francois looked up, caught aglimpse of that relentless visage, and dropped his head again over theslender relics of a not bountiful meal. It was Jean Pierre Amar!
The marquis looked up from his plate, but made no effort to concealhimself. Amar walked around the table. Now and then his mouth wanderedto left. It was comical, and yet horribly grotesque. He seemed tonotice no one, and went out to make his inspection. Presently a turnkeycame and touched Francois's shoulder.
"The citizen commissioner would see thee."
"I am ruined--done for!" murmured the thief; and, followed by Toto, hewent after the turnkey. In the room used as a registering-office, Amar,_le farouche_, sat handling a paper.
"Ah!" he said. "Citizen turnkey, leave the suspect with me, and closethe door." The commissioner laid a pair of pistols on the table, andlooked up at Francois.
"Well, citizen, we are met again. I am free to say that I had carefulsearch made for thee, and now good fortune has brought hither not theealone, but that infernal _ci-devant_ who pinned me like a butterfly."As he spoke there was something fascinating in the concentration ofemotion on the active side of this unnatural face. Francois felt theneed to be careful.
"Why the devil don't you speak?"
"Will the citizen kindly advise me what answer it will be most prudentto make?" And for comment on his own words, which altogether pleasedhim, a pleasant smile drifted downward over his large features.
"_Sacre!_ but thou art a queer one, and no fool," said the Jacobin."Thou wilt be dead before long; a monstrous pity! I would give my placefor thy laugh."
"'T is a bargain to my mind. Let us change. I shall set thee free atonce--at once, citizen commissioner; I bear no malice."
Amar, silent for a moment, stroked his nose with thumb and finger.
"Thou dost not remind me thou didst save my life."
"No; what is the use?"
"Use? Why not?"
"Because men like the citizen commissioner do not lightly change. Ihave a too plain recollection of what I was promised in return for mybenevolence. I should regret it except for--"
"For what?" said Amar.
Then Francois rose to the height of his greatness.
"I am a Frenchman, even if I am not of thy party. Had not the countryneeded thee, that day had been thy last. Citizen, as a man thou wouldstset me free; as a patriot thou wilt bow to the law of the republic. I amwilling to die rather than soil the record of one to whom France owes somuch." An overwhelming solemnity of aspect came upon this comedian'sface as it met the gaze of the commissioner. "Alas! the country has fewsuch citizens."
"_Tonnerre_! True--true; it is sad." The man's vanity was excelledonly by that of the prisoner before him. Francois had personalappreciation of the influential value of the bait he cast. A greatdiplomatist of the older type was lost when Francois took to the waragainst society in place of that against nations.
"If the citizen commissioner has no more need of me, I will go! Towaste his time is to waste the genius of France." Not for nothing hadFrancois been of late in the society of the Comedie Francaise.
"_Tiens_! Who told thee to go? I desire to do my own thinking. Whyart thou here?"
Francois laughed, but made no other reply.
"Young man, art thou laughing at the Revolutionary Tribunal?"
"Thou art also laughing, monsieur." When Francois laughed, he wholooked at him laughed also.
"_Diable!_ yes. What right hast thou to make an officer of the GreatCommittee laugh? Thou wilt get into trouble."
"I am in it now, monsieur--up to the neck."
"No 'monsieur' to me, aristocrat! What brought thee here?"
'"A greedy woman denounced me. Could not I denounce her in turn?"
"_Mort du diable!_ that is a fine idea--to let the denounced alsodenounce. It would make things move. I will mention that to Couthon."The half of the face that was able to express emotion manufactured alook of ferocious mirth; but it was clear that he took the propositionseriously.
"It appears that we do not go fast enough, citizen," said Francois. "InApril, 257; in May, so far, only 308. So say the gazettes. What if wedenounce Citizens Robespierre and Vadier? We might go faster. Let usdenounce everybody, and, last, the devil."
Amar set an elbow on the table, and, with his chin in his hand,considered this novel specimen of humanity.
"AMAR CONSIDERED THIS NOVEL SPECIMEN OF HUMANITY."]
Francois had a controlling idea that what chance of safety there was layin complete abandonment to the natural recklessness of his ever-dominantmood of humor.
"Art thou at the end of thy nonsense, idiot?" said the Jacobin.
"Not quite; the citizen might denounce himself."
"By all the saints! Art making a jest of me--me, Jean Pierre Amar?Thou must value thy head but little."
"_Dame!_ it was never worth much; and as to saints, one CitizenMontmorency said yesterday that the republic hath abolished the noblesseof heaven and earth too. Droll idea, citizen"; and he laughed merrily.
"Oh, quit that infernal laughing! Thou must be of the ComedieFrancaise."
"No; I am of the comedy of France, like the rest--like the commissioner;but the citizen has two ears for a joke."
"I--I think so"; and he made it manifest by a twisted, unilateral grinof self-approval. "That idea of the citizen--prisoners denouncing--Ishall not forget that. Wilt thou serve the republic?"
"Why not?"
"These common spies in the prisons are useless. I will put an 'M' tothy name on our list; 'M' for _mouchard_--spy. That will put thee downat the bottom whenever the Committee of Safety comes to thy case. I amnot ungrateful."
"Very good," said Francois, promptly. "I am as honest a Jacobin as thebest. I will serve the republic, citizen, to the best of my ability."
"Then thou wilt report once a week, especially on the _ci-devants_. Thehead keeper will give thee pen, ink, and paper, and a chance to writehere alone. I will so order it. But beware, citizen! I am not a manto trifle with; I do not forget.'7
"I should think not," said Francois, humbly.
"And when Gregoire comes, in June, thou wilt report to him."
"I--Gregoire--report--"
"Certainly. What's the matter? Off with thee now. Ah, that _sacre_Citizen Ste. Luce! I forgot him. Tell him his case will come onshortly."
"I am sorry."
"That is to lack patriotism."
"But he and De Crosne are the only people who amuse me, and it is dullin this bird-cage. He swears thou art clumsy with the small sword."
"I--I clumsy! I should like to catch him somewhere. I was too fat; butnow!" and he smote his chest. "Didst thou think me clumsy--me, PierreAmar?"
"I? No, indeed. These aristocrats think no one else can handle arapier. Ah, if I could fence with the citizen commissioner a little,and then--"
"Impossible."
"He swears thou art coward enough to use the guillotine to settle aquarrel, and that thou dost fence like a pigsticker."
Amar, _le farouche_, swore an oath too blasphemous to repeat. The greatthick-lipped mouth moved half across so much of his face as could moveat all. He was speechless with rage, and at last gasped, as he struckthe table: "Me--Amar? Ah, I should like well to let him out and killhim; and I would, too, but there are Saint-Just, and Couthon, a
nd therest. Go; and take care how thou dost conduct thyself. Go! The _sacre_marquis must take his chance. Pig-sticker indeed!"
Thus terminated this formidable interview; but, alas! it was now closeto the end of May, and in the background of June was the man with thewart.
The next day, in the garden, Francis related to the marquis hisinterview with the dreaded Jacobin. The gentleman was delighted.
"_Mon Dieu_! Francois, you are a great man; but I fear it will do nogood; my turn must be near. De Crosne and poor Fleury got their littlebillets last evening, and are off on a voyage of discovery to-morrow,along with M. de la Morne, and De Lancival, and more. They will be ingood society. Did you think that Jacobin Apollo would be pricked intoletting me out for the chance of killing me?"
"It came near to that, monsieur. I did say that you were not much of ablade, after all; that Citizen Amar was out of condition when you lastmet; and that if he and I could fence a little,--outside, of course,--M.le Marquis would regret the meeting."
"Delicious! And he took it all?"
"Yes, as little Annette takes a fairy-tale of M. Fleury's--who will tellno more, poor fellow!"
"But, after all, we are still here. I envy you the interview._Parbleu!_ these fellows do their best, but they can't take the jestsout of life. I hope the next world will be as amusing."
As he ceased, Francois exclaimed:
"By all the saints! there is that crazy fool Despard."
"Despard--Despard?" repeated the marquis. "That is a contribution to theshow. How the mischief did he get here?"
The unlucky Jacobin was wandering about like a lost dog, a shabby,dejected figure. Toto, at play, recognized his master's former partner,and jumped up in amiable recognition. Despard kicked him, and thepoodle, unaccustomed to rude treatment, fled to Francois. The thief'slong face grew savage and stern; to hurt Toto was a deadly offense.
"Pardon, monsieur," he said to the marquis, and went swiftly to whereDespard stood against the wall.
"Look here, rascal," said Francois; "if ever thou dost kick that dogagain, I will twist thy neck."
Despard did not seem to take in his meaning.
"It is thou, Francois. There is the _ci-devant_--the marquis. Ifollowed him. I--Pierre Despard--I denounced him. I did it. I am notafraid."
"Stuff! Didst thou hear me? What have I to do with _ci-devant_marquises? Thou hast kicked Toto."
"I see him; I must speak with him."
"_Fichtre!_ he is mad," said the thief, and went after him.
At the coming of Despard, ragged, wild-eyed, excited, the group aboutthe tall gentleman turned.
Despard paused before him. "It is my turn now! I followed--Ifollowed--I denounced thee--I, Pierre Despard. They will let me outwhen thou art to die; it will be soon. I will take thy child--thybastard--my wife's child. We will go to see thee--I and thyhunchback--to see thee on the tumbrel at the guillotine. She hath thyown cold eyes--frozen eyes. Thou wilt know her by those when thou artwaiting--waiting--shivering."
The marquis listened with entire tranquillity.
"One or two more in the audience will matter little"; and, smiling, hewalked away.
A strange tremor seized on the chin and lower lip of Despard. He saidto Francois, "Come with me," and then, in a bewildered manner, "He isn'tafraid yet. I--I want him to be afraid."
"_Dame!_ thou wilt wait then till the cows roost and the chickens givemilk."
"No; it will come."
"Stuff! How camest thou here? Didst thou denounce thyself? I haveheard of men mad enough to do that."
"No. Do not tell. I trust thee; I always did trust thee. I am a spy.I am to stay here till I want to be let out, when he--he is tried. Iwanted to watch him. Some day he will have fear--fear--and--I--"
"Well, of all the mad idiots! A mouse to walk into a trap of his ownaccord! _Dieu!_ but the cheese must have smelt good to thee."
"I shall go out when I want to go. Didst thou know his daughter isdead? I am sorry she is dead."
"Yes--God rest her soul!"
"I am sorry she is dead because she cannot be here. I wish she werehere. If only she were here, it would be complete. Then he would beafraid."
"_Bon Dieu!_" cried several, "he will kill him!" The thief had caughtPierre by the throat, and, scarce conscious of the peril of his ownstrength, he choked the struggling man, and at last, in wild rage,hurled him back amid a startled mass of tumbled people.
"Beast!" muttered Francois, at his full height regarding angrily theprostrate man.
In an instant the jailers were at his side. "What is this?" said they.
"He--he kicked my dog!"
"Did he? Well, no more of this, citizen."
"Then let him be careful how he kicks my dog; and take him away, or--"
Pierre needed no further advice.
Presently Ste. Luce came over to Francois.
"What is wrong?"
"He kicked my dog!"
"Indeed? Do you know this man well? Once you warned me about him.Where have you met?"
"We juggled together, monsieur, when I used to read palms. He is a bitoff his head, I think."
"'T is common in France just now, or else the reverse is. But he has adamnably good memory. We of Normandy say, 'As is the beast, so are hisclaws.' The fellow is of good blood in a way; but, _mon Dieu!_ he is acoward to be pitied. To be through and through a coward does muchenlarge the limits of calamity. If I or if you were to hate a man, forreasons good or bad, we would kill him. But a coward! What can he do?He has his own ways, not mine or yours. His claws are not of the makeof mine. I have no complaint to make as to his fashion of revenginghimself; but really, revenge, I fancy, must lose a good deal of itsdistinctness of flavor when it waits this long. It is, I should say,quite twelve years--quite. There is a child, he says, or there was. Doyou chance to know anything about it?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever see it? Is it male or female?"
"A girl, monsieur. I never saw it."
"How old?"
"I do not know."
"Penitence becomes a question of dates, Francois. But it is true--truethat I never had the least talent for regret; and if a man is notcapable of regret, why, Francois, how the deuce can he achievepenitence? Don't think I am joking, my most accomplished thief. Thereare men here who--there is M. de--well, no matter. There are men herewho are honestly bewailing their past--well, amusements--sins, if youplease. I cannot. There are some here who, because they are noble bydescent, are making believe not to be afraid, and will make believeuntil the knife falls. I am not penitent, because I am not; and as tothe knife, I have had a most agreeable life, and should never have goneon living if life had ceased to amuse me."
He was now silent awhile, his strong, handsome features clear to see, asthey lay on the scant grass in the sunshine. The thief had learned thatat times this great seigneur would talk, and liked to do so; and that atother times he was to be left to the long silences which were difficultto secure where this morbidly gay crowd, of all conditions of men, wasseeking the distraction of too incessant chat.
He rose quietly, and went away to talk with Domville of the Comedie, whohimself was always glad of the company of Francois's cheery visage.
In the salon, which was now deserted, he saw Despard. Pierre stood atan open window, and was pulling at his fingers, as Francois had so oftenseen him doing. He was gazing at the people in the yard. His eyeswandered feebly here and there, as if without interest or purpose. Hisattitude of dejection touched some chord of pity in his partner's heart.
"Dame! he must have thought I was rough with him for a dog--a dog." Hehad no mind to explain.
Pierre turned to meet him. He was not angry, nor was he excited. Theshifting phases of his malady had brought to him again the horriblemisery of such melancholy as they who are sound of mind cannot conceive.When this torture has a man in its grip, the past is as nothing; thepresent a curse; duty is dead; the future only an as
surance of continuedsuffering; death becomes an unconsidered trifle; life--continuedlife--an unbearable burden.
Poor Pierre said no word of his ex-partner's recent violence. The tearswere running down his cheeks. The man at his side was, as usual, gailycheerful.
"What is wrong with thee?" said Francois. "I was hard on thee, but thouknowest--"
"What is it?" replied Pierre. "I--it is no matter."
Francois, surprised, went on: "Can I help thee?"
"No. I cannot sleep; I cannot eat. I suffer. I am in a hell ofdespair."
"But how, or why, _mon ami_?"
"I do not know. I suffer."
"Rouse up a bit. Why didst chance to come here? I asked thee thatbefore. If thou canst get out, go at once. Thou art not fit to be inthis place. This devil of a marquis excites thee. To be a spy thoushouldst be ashamed. Canst thou really get out when it pleases thee togo?"
"Why not?" said Pierre, in alarm. "Dost thou think they will not let mego? I did not want to be a spy, but I was half starved. All I couldget I sent to keep my--his poor little hunchback. Vadier lent me somemoney. I kept none, not a sou. I asked him to let me come here as aspy. They say my reports are useless. I can't help that. I will goout. I want to see that man suffer; I want to see him afraid. He is notafraid. Dost thou think he is afraid?"
"No."
For a moment there was a pause, when Pierre, in a quiet, childlikemanner, said: "Dost thou think he ever will be afraid?"
"No, Pierre; he never will be. What a fool thou art to have come here!'T is not so easy to get out."
"_Mon Dieu!_ don't say that. I--they said--"
"Dost thou believe a Jacobin--and Vadier, the beast, of all men?"
"Hush!" said Pierre, looking about him suspiciously. "I must go--I mustgo. I must walk; I cannot keep still."
He remained in this mood of subdued terror and the deepest melancholyfor some days. Then for a few hours he followed the marquis about,proclaiming his own wrongs in a high-pitched voice. At last Ste. Lucecomplained to the keeper, Vaubertrand, who hesitated to interfere, beingpuzzled and fearful as to the amount of influence possessed by this spyof the Committee of Safety. He mustered enough courage at last to tellDespard that he must not speak to the marquis; and, as he luckily caughthim in his mood of despair and depression, the man timidly promised toobey.
The Adventures of François Page 22
