*XXI*
_How Francois, having made a bargain with Citizen Amar, cannot keep itwith the man of the wart--How Despard dies in the place of themarquis--Of Francois's escape from prison._
The second week of June was over. The keeper, who had taken a fancy tothe merry thief, called him aside one afternoon, and said:
"Thou must write thy report, because to-morrow comes Citizen Gregoire.Thou canst use the office for an hour, as is permitted. But take care.Thou dost know how they are treated in the prisons who are suspected ofmaking these reports to the committee. I will come for thee at dusk."
Francois thanked him, and at the time mentioned was locked up in theoffice; for despite Vaubertrand's amiability, he was careful as to thesecurity of his prisoners. As it was now dark, the office table waslighted by two candles. He found pen and ink and paper, but nocompetent thoughts. What was he to say--whom to accuse? He had made ahasty contract with Amar, and was of no mind to fulfil his share of it.He got up from the desk, and walked about. "The deuce!" he said toToto, who never left him. "'T is a scrape of our own making. I shouldhave told that scamp with the pretty face to go to the devil with hisspy business. _Sacristie!_ doggie, I am like that fellow in the play Ionce saw. He sold his soul to the devil, and didn't want to pay up whenthe time came. What to do?" He had told the marquis, whom he trusted,of the difficulty he anticipated.
Ste. Luce, much amused, said: "Take me for a subject. I am as sure todie as an abbot's capon. If you have a conscience, it may rest easy sofar as I am concerned."
Francois took it seriously. "I beg of you, monsieur--"
"Oh, a good idea!" laughed the nobleman, breaking in upon hisremonstrance. "Tell them how you saw me kill three good citizens thatnight on the stairs. By Mars! Francois, those twenty minutes were worthliving for. I was in a plot to rescue the king; tell them that."
"Not I," grinned the thief.
"Confound it! you are difficult."
And now, as Francois recalled their talk, his task was not more easy.He nibbled the end of his quill, and looked around him. At last, as hewalked to and fro, he began to exercise his natural inquisitiveness. Itwas never long quiet. He stared at the barred windows. A set ofpigeonholes attracted him. He glanced hastily over their contents."_Tiens!_" he exclaimed.
Every day or two, about 3 P.M., a clerk of the Committee of Safetybrought a great envelop stamped with the seal of the republic. Withinwas a paper on which were clearly set out the names and former titles ofthe citizen prisoners selected for trial the night before in jointcounsel by the Great Committee and that of Security. The keeper copiedeach name on to the space in the blank summons kept for this use, andthese fatal papers were then duly delivered after supper.
Francois looked at the packet. It was sealed. He knew well what itmeant. It was labeled: "Mandate of the Tribunals Nos. 4 and 5."
"Toto, we may be among them; we must see." He looked about him. Herewere all the writing-table implements then in use. He heated a knife,and neatly loosened the under wax of the seal. The death-call laybefore him. He ran over it with shuddering haste.
"_Dieu!_ we are not there. But, _mon ami_, here is the marquis!" Hiswas the last name at the foot of the first page. Francois sat still,his face in his hands. At any moment he might be caught. He did notheed.
"I must do it," he said. He saw, as it were before him, the appealingface of the dead woman, and felt in remembrance the hand the greatseigneur had given him on the stair. He had a glad memory of a momentwhich had lifted him on to the higher levels of self-esteem and manhood.
"I will do it, Toto; 't is to be risked; and, _mon Dieu!_ the rest--therest of them!" Some he knew well. Some had been kind to him. One hadgiven him clothes when these were greatly needed. He was profoundlymoved.
"If I burn it, 't is but to give them a day, and no more--if I burn it!"
He took scissors from the table, and carefully cut off the half-inch atthe foot of the paper. It was now without the name "Ste. Luce,_ci-devant_ marquis." He tore up the strip of paper, and put thefragments in the fireplace, behind the unkindled logs.
Next he casually turned the page. "_Ciel!_ this calls for eleven. Ihave left but ten. They will think it a blunder. One will be wanting;that is all."
He used a little melted wax under the large seal, replaced the warrantin the outer cover, and returned the document to the pigeonhole whencehe had taken it. This done, he sat down again, and began to write hisreport.
He found nothing to say, except that those he would have spoken of hadbeen already disposed of; and now he thought again that he would burnthe fatal paper. He rose resolute, but at this moment the head keepercame back.
Francois was sorry, but he was not used to writing, and made excusesuntil at last the man said impatiently:
"Well, thou must settle all that with Amar and Gregoire. I gave theetime enough." Could he have another chance? He was told that he shouldhave it; but now it was supper-time; better not to be missing. He wentout and up-stairs to his place at table.
He had lost his gaiety. Here and there at the table were the doomed menand women. He could not eat, and at last left the room to wander in thecorridors. Pierre soon found him. He was eager, anxious, and full ofstrange news.
"When will that brute marquis be sent for? I was to go out to-day.They have forgotten. There is trouble in the Great Committee. I hearof it from Vaubertrand. Robespierre and Vadier think things go not fastenough; and the rest--the rest, except little cripple Couthon andSaint-Just, are opposing our great Robespierre."
Francois began to be interested, and to ask questions. The gazetteswere no longer allowed in the prisons. The outer world was a blank toall within their walls.
Despard, flushed and eager, told him how daily the exit of the prisonersfor trial was met by a mob clamorous for blood. Then he began toexhibit alarm. Did Francois think that he, Pierre, might by chance missthe execution of the marquis? He would speak to Gregoire, who wascoming next morning. They should learn not to trifle with a friend ofRobespierre. When Francois left him he was gesticulating, and, as hewalked up and down the deserted corridor, was cracking his knuckles orgnawing his nails.
After supper the varied groups collected in the salon. The womenembroidered. A clever artist was busy sketching the head of a girl oftwenty for those she loved, who were to see her living face no more.Some played at cards. Here and there a man sat alone, waiting, stunnedby the sure approach of death. The marquis was in gay chat with theVicomte de Beausejour.
"Ah, here is my mysterious gentleman!" cried Ste. Luce. "They have betson you. Tell these gentlemen who you really are. They are puzzled."
Francois smiled. He was pleased to do or say anything which would takehis thoughts off the near approach of the messenger of doom. He said:
"M. le Marquis knows that I am under an oath."
"_Pardie!_ true, true; I have heard as much."
"The bets stand over," said a gray old man, M. de l'Antilhac. "We knewyou as a juggler."
"Yes, and a fencing-master," said Du Pin.
"You are both right. These times and the king's service set a man tostrange trades. Well, gentlemen, I am not to be questioned. Tales loseheads."
They laughed. "Pardon me," said a younger man. "The marquis was aboutto tell us of the delightful encounter you had on his staircase. 'T islike a legend of the days of Henri IV of blessed memory."
"Tell them," said Ste. Luce.
"The marquis does me much--_Dieu!_" Francois cried, and fell back into achair, weak as a child. The turnkey went by him with the fatalmissives.
"Art thou ill?" said De l'Antilhac. "What is it?"
"Yes," said Francois. "Excuse me. He--he--" And, as it werefascinated, he rose and went after the keeper.
Vaubertrand paused behind a gentleman who was playing piquet.
"Citizen Ste. Michel," he said, and passed on, as he laid the summonsbefore the player
.
"At last!" said the man thus interrupted. "Quatre to the king--fouraces. Let it wait."
Vaubertrand moved on. Francois followed him.
The calls to trial and death were distributed. A man rolled up thefatal paper without a word, and lighted his pipe with it. One of thosewho sat apart took his summons, and fell fainting on the floor.
"Nothing for me?" said the marquis.
"Not yet, citizen."
"I was never before so neglected."
The game went on. Here and there a woman dropped her embroidery and satback, thinking of the world to come, as she rolled the deadly call totrial in her wet fingers, and took refuge in the strength of prayer.
Francois felt as if it were he who had condemned these people. He wentto his cell, and tossed about all night, sleepless. Rising early, hewent out into the garden. After breakfast the keeper said to him:
"Thou shouldst have had thy report ready. Gregoire is coming to-day.He is before his time. If he is drunk, as usual, there will be trouble.That fool Despard is wild to-day. He will be sure to stir up somemischief. All the _mouchards_ will be called."
"Despard is an idiot. He is raving one day, and fit to kill himself thenext. Get him out of this."
"_Dame_! I should be well pleased. He swears I keep him here. Hewill--ah, _mon Dieu!_ the things he threatens. I am losing my wits. Mygood Francois, I have been kind to thee, and I talk rashly. I wish Ihad done with it all."
"And I too, citizen; but thou art safe with me."
As the jailer spoke, he looked over his list of those summoned. "_Sacrebleu!_ here is a list which calls for eleven, and there are only tennames!"
"Some one has made a mistake."
"No doubt. But Gregoire never listens. Pray God he be sober. Be inthe corridor at nine; Gregoire will want to see thee."
Francois would be on hand. As to the report, he should wish to ask howto draw it up. He found a quiet corner in the courtyard, and began tothink about the man with the wart--the man of whom he knew so little,and whom he feared as he had never before feared a man. The every-dayhorror and disturbance of the morning had begun. Officers were comingand going; names were called; there were adieus, quiet or heartrending.The marquis was tranquilly conversing, undisturbed by the scene, whichwas too common to trouble those who had no near friend or relation inthe batch of prisoners called for trial. Francois had seen it all, dayafter day. It always moved him, but never as now.
He stood looking at a young woman who was sitting with the order in herlap, her eyes turned heavenward as if in dumb appeal. Now and then shelooked from one man to another, as if help must come.
Francois glanced at the marquis; he was the center of a laughing group,chatting unconcerned.
"_Ciel!_ has the man no heart?" he murmured. "Why did I save him evenfor a day? The good God knows. It must make life easy to be like him."The marquis would have been amazed to know that the memory of a white,sad woman's face, and of one heroic hour, had given him a new lease oflife.
"Ah, Toto," said the thief to himself, "we held that stair together, heand I." The thought of an uplifting moment overcame him. A suddenreflection that he might have been other than he was flushed his face.
"Ah, my friend Toto, we could have been something; we missed our chancein the world. Well, thou dost think we had better make a fight for it.Life is agreeable, but not here. Let us think. There is one littlecard to play. Art thou up to it? Yes! I must go now. Thou wilt waithere, and thou wilt not move. In an hour I shall be with thee; and,meanwhile, behold a fine bone. No, not yet, but when I come.Attention, now!"
He turned his back to the prison, took off a shoe, and extracted apaper, which he folded so as to be small and flat. Then he produced abit of a kid glove he had asked from Mme. Cerise of the ComedieFrancaise. In it he laid the paper, and put the little packet, thusprotected, in the dog's mouth. "Keep it," he said. "It is death--it islife." The dog lay down, his sharp black nose on his paws, shut hiseyes, and seemed to be asleep. He had done the thing before.
When Francois entered the corridor he found the keeper.
"Come," said Vaubertrand. "The commissioner is in a bad way, and drunk,too. He is troubled, I think, and the citizens who are outside reproachhim that the supply for the guillotine is small, and the prisons full.What have I done to be thus tormented? There will be a massacre._Ciel!_ I talk too much. I have favored thee. Take care--and thoucanst laugh yet." Whereupon Francois laughed anew, and went after him.
The large hall on the first floor was unusually full. There was muchconfusion. The great street door, as it was opened wide and shut againin haste, gave a not reassuring glimpse of men in red bonnets roaringthe _Ca ira_. Over all rose the shrill tongues of the women of themarkets. A new batch of prisoners was pushed in, the keeper declaringhe had no room. Officers of the Committee of Safety untied the hands ofthe newcomers, and ranged them on stone benches to the left. On theright were those who were called to trial. Francois stood aside,watchful.
Pierre Despard was waiting, flushed and anxious. As a spy, he had leavefrom Vaubertrand to descend in order to state his case to Gregoire. Hewent hither and thither, noisy, foolish, gesticulating. He was now inhis alternate mood of excitement, and soon began to elbow his way towardthe office.
"Citizen La Vaque is summoned."
A tall man answered from the bench. Then another and another wascalled. The officers went down the line, and, paper in hand, verifiedthe prisoners. They were taken, one by one, into a side room by asecond officer, and their hands secured behind their backs.
At last the first officer said: "Here are but ten, Citizen Vaubertrand,and the list calls for eleven. The keeper must see the commissioner."The officer in charge reproached Vaubertrand for neglect. The man withthe wart came out from the office.
"Silence!" he cried. "What is this?"
The matter was explained, or was being set forth, when the door opened,and another half-dozen unfortunates were rudely thrust in, while thecrowd made a furious effort to enter. Gregoire turned pale.
"Thou shalt answer for this. Find another. I shall hear of it, andthou, too."
Meanwhile, Despard, too insane to observe Gregoire's condition, and lostto all sense of anything but his own sudden wish to escape, wasfrantically pulling the furious commissioner by the arm.
"Citizen," he cried, "I must be heard! Dost hear? Thou wilt repent. Iam the friend of Robespierre."
Gregoire paid no attention; he was half drunk, and raging at poorVaubertrand.
"I will report thee," cried Despard. "I denounce thee!"
Gregoire turned upon him in a rage.
"Who is this?" he cried.
"I am Despard of the fourth section. I will let thee know who I am."In his madness he caught Gregoire by the collar and shook him.
Gregoire called out: "Take away this fool! What! threatenme--me--Gregoire! All, thou art the rascal who plunders chateaux. Iknow thee. Thou dost threaten an officer of the Committee of Safety.Tie this fellow; he will do for the eleventh. Quick, quick!"
There was no hesitation. The officers seized their prey, and Gregoire,growling, went again into the office.
Pierre fought like the madman he was, but in a minute was brought backscreaming and added to the corvee. It was complete. He was carried outraving, amid the yells and reproaches of the mob, which broke up andwent along with the wagons.
Again there was quiet in the hall, where the thief stood in wonder,horror-stricken. "It is I that have killed him--he who did long to seeanother die. And for him to die in the place of the marquis--_dame!_ itis strange."
"_Ciel!_" cried Vaubertrand, wiping the sweat from his brow. "This isthe second they took this way to make up for some one's blunder. Come,and have a care what you say. He is half drunk."
Francois entered the office.
"Who is this?" said Gregoire, facing him, with his large, meaninglessface still flushed and angry.
Vauber
trand pushed forward the reluctant Francois. "It is one of thereporters, citizen commissioner."
"Ahem! One of Citizen Amar's appointments," said Gregoire. "Thou canstgo, Citizen Vaubertrand"; and he looked up as he sat at the table.
"Thy name?"
"Francois," said the thief.
"Thy occupation?"
"Juggler."
The citizen commissioner was on the uncertain line between appearance ofsobriety obtained by effort and ebriety past control. As heinterrogated Francois his head dropped forward. He recovered himselfwith a sharp jerk, and cried sharply:
"Why dost thou not answer? I said, How didst thou get here, and whogave thee thy order to report?"
"Citizen Amar; he is a friend of mine."
"Is he? Well, where is thy _sacre_ report?"
"I should like to tell the citizen commissioner what I have to say.I--I did not know just how to frame it."
Meanwhile Gregoire was considering him with unsteady eyes. "Ah, now Ihave it; now I remember thee. Thou art an _ex-emigre_. I shall attendto thee. It was thou who stole my wallet of papers; and thou couldstlaugh, too. _Ciel!_ what a laugh! Try it now."
Francois replied that he was no _emigre_; as to the rest, he couldexplain; and leaning over, he said quietly:
"You will do well to hear what I have to say."
"'You will do well'! Idiot! Why dost thou say 'you, you'? Cursedaristocrat that thou art! Say 'thou' when thou dost address me, or Ishall--where is that report?"
"If the citizen will listen. There was in that wallet a little paperaddressed to Citizen de la Vicomterie. _Dame!_ it was good reading, andI have it still."
"Thou hast it? Thou wilt not have it long."
Gregoire was not over-intelligent, and had now the short temper ofdrink. The prisoner tried to get a moment in which to explain thatanother held the document.
Gregoire was past hearing reason. "Officers, here! here!" he cried."Search this man! Search him. Strip him. Here! here!"
Francois did not stir. "When thou hast done we can talk."
"Hold thy tongue! Search him."
"_Ma foi_, marquis," said the thief, later, "they did it well. Theyeven chopped up the heels of my shoes. And my coat! _Sacre_! The goodkeeper gave me another. In our cell, as I learned, they went throughthe beds and Heaven knows what else. I was well pleased, I can tellthee, when it was all over."
The commissioner had now cooled down. "Put on thy clothes," saidGregoire, and himself shut the door. It was Francois's turn.
"Citizen," he said, "didst thou think me fool enough to leave withinreach that little letter of thine to the good citizen of thecommittee--to--ah, yes, La Vicomterie is his name. I am not an_emigre_, only a poor devil of a thief and a juggler. I do not loveCitizen Robespierre any better than some others love him--some I couldname. But one must live, and the day I go out to thy infernal tribunal,Robespierre will have thy letter. A friend will go himself and lay itbefore the committee."
Gregoire grew deadly pale, all but the wart, which remained red. "I ambetrayed!"
"Wait a little. Thou art not quite lost, but thou wilt be unless--"
"Unless what?"
"Unless thou wilt open that door and set me free. I have no grudgeagainst thee. I will arrange to have for thee the letter, and mustreceive from thee a new _carte de surete_, and a good passport onbusiness of the Committee of Safety."
The commissioner was partly sobered. "How shall I know that thou wiltkeep thy word?"
"Thou wilt not know until I do. Why should I not?"
"But the letter may be lost."
"Well, what then? Thou wilt be safe, and have one less life to answerfor to the devil when he gets thee."
"Talk business. There is no devil."
"I don't agree with thee. His name is Robespierre. The mischief is thatit is I who do not trust thee. Thou hast a wart, citizen. Men who havewarts are unlucky to meet. But take care, because I am a desperate man,and most extremely value my head. If thou shouldst fail to--"
"No, no; I promise."
"Good, then."
"Wait; I will write out the papers."
"I shall not hurry thee. I must pack up. I will be back in half anhour. Be so kind as to arrange that I may return without hindrance."
Francois went at once to the garden, and called Toto. Then he hastenedto his _cachot_, or cell, and, finding himself alone, shut the door,took the little packet from Toto's mouth, and gave him the promisedbone. He placed the paper inside his stocking, and secured it with apin. Next he gathered up his small effects, left his mangled coat onthe bed of a fellow-prisoner, and descended thoughtfully to the office.
He was glad to see that the man of the wart was sitting apparentlyinattentive to the piles of accounts before him. "Clearly, the citizenis worried," said Francois to himself.
"I have thy papers. One had to be sent out for a signature. Here isthy card of safety, and reapproved as that of a citizen who hasdenounced an _ex-emigre_. Also, behold a passport, and an order fromthe Committee of Safety to leave Paris on business of the republic. Allare in the name of Citizen Francois, juggler."
"The citizen has been thoughtful."
"_Sacre_! I never do things by halves; I am thorough. And now, as tothe paper?"
"It will be best for thee to come, at twelve to-day, to No. 33 _bis_ RuePerpignan. There I will take thee to my old room, or another, and makegood my side of the bargain. After that, I have the agreeable hopenever to meet thee again."
"I will be there at noon."
Francois's watchful ear detected a certain emphasis on the "I" of thisphrase, which made him suspicious. He said quietly:
"Citizen, thou hast sold me my head. I shall give thee thine.Afterward I shall be in thy power."
"Yes, yes; that might be so with Amar or Couthon, but not with AndreGregoire."
"_Tiens!_" said the thief, "what is this? 'Andre'? This order is signed'Alphonse Gregoire.' The citizen must have been absent-minded. Look!"
Gregoire flushed. "True, true. I will write a second. I wastroubled."
Francois stood still, received the second order, and, saying, "_Aurevoir_, citizen," was about to leave, when a thought seemed to strikehim. He paused. "There is here a _ci-devant_ marquis you mayrecall--Ste. Luce."
"Well?"
"Put his name at the foot of the file of the accused and keep it there.Get a clerk to do it. The citizen is aware that it is done every day."
"Impossible! Art thou insane? I run risk enough with thy order andpassport. But this I dare not do. There are limits."
"Do it, or I throw up my bargain. By Heaven, I am in earnest! Come,what will it cost? Will one hundred louis d'or do the business?"
Gregoire reflected. What more simple than to say yes, pocket the money,and let things take their course?
"I will do it for that--I mean I can have it done."
"Then give me ten minutes."
"I will wait."
The rich throughout these evil days were allowed to have in prison asmuch money as they could get from without. About March of this sad yearthey were told that they must feed the poorer captives, and wereregularly assessed. Francois was aware that the marquis was wellprovided. He found him in the garden, and asked him to step aside.
"I am free, monsieur," he said. "No matter how. And I have bargainedfor your own head." He briefly related so much of his talk withGregoire as concerned the marquis.
Ste. Luce looked at him. "_Pardie_! You are an unusual type ofthief--or man. I would thank you if I considered my head worth much.But, after all, it is a natural attachment one's body has for one'shead, or one's head for one's body, to put it correctly. Will it bewasted money, my admirable thief, or will the rascal keep his word?"
"Yes; he will keep his word--after we get through with the affair."
"You are a great man, Francois, but I have not the money. I lost itlast night to Delavigne. I will get the loan of it. Rather a new i
deato borrow one's head! Wait a little." He came back in a few minutes."It pretty well cleaned out two of them. Good luck to you; and if everwe are out of this hole, we must fence a little. By the way, I hearthey took that poor devil Despard to-day. It is a relief. He bored meatrociously."
"Yes; they took him in your place, monsieur. It was to have beento-day--"
"To-day! In my place? _Tiens!_ that is droll."
"Yes."
"But how--why?"
"No matter now. I will tell monsieur some day."
"Are you a magician, Master Francois?"
"I was. But I did not desire this man's death."
"And the guillotine will have him, and he will not be on hand to see mescared. _Ciel!_ but it is strange. Alas! the disappointments of thismortal life! Good luck to you, and _au revoir_. I thank you."
A few minutes later, Gregoire, having carefully disposed of the goldabout his ample person, escorted Citizen Francois to the outer door.The look with which the commissioner with the wart regarded theretreating back and the big ears of Francois was unfriendly, to say theleast.
The Adventures of François Page 23
