"Curses on them!" said others. "Death is too good for vile aristocrats."
"Tra-la-la-la!" sang drunken wenches, "La Guillotine will soon hold yein her sharp embrace--"
The blasphemy of burlesquing a far greater Scene of Sorrows occurredto drunken Carmagnole dancers. The notion was applauded, carried intoeffect at once.
A tall sansculotte reached over betwixt the guards and placed a Crownof Thorns on the girl's brow. Another dashed a cupful of vinegar inthe girl's face.
"Can't you see she's helpless?" said a centurion, pointing to herpinioned arms. He yanked off the chaplet and threw it back in thecrowd. They roared with merriment at the farce....
But, in the stable yard of the Northern cavalry, Danton from ahorseblock was addressing the fiery spirits who knew and loved him.
"Will you dare with Danton?" he cried. "Will you risk Death to open aNation's eyes?"
The head Cavalryman embraced the Thunderer and kissed him on bothcheeks.
"We are with you to the last man--to the last ounce of our strength tosave this girl and boy!" he said while the others cheered.
Danton had got a gallant white mount, the Captain was on a noble blackArabian charger; the others had leaped astride their ever ready armysteeds--the ride with the reprieve was in full course!
CHAPTER XXVII
THE FAREWELL
Louise, guided by her faithful attendant Pierre, had left thecourtroom directly after the condemnation. Leaning heavily upon him,the blind girl had staggered out, or pressed by the awful knowledgethat her sister Henriette was doomed to die. "Oh, take me to her!" shehad cried.
There was only one thing to do: to follow the route of the deathtumbrils, in the slight hope of overtaking her. The crippled Pierrecould not walk fast, and the steps of Louise had to be most carefullydirected. Now and again Pierre could see the death carts a long wayahead, he tried to hasten their steps, but presently the transports ofdeath were out of sight again.
A traffic tie-up and street delay that halted the tumbrils just beyondthe scene of the bacchanalian Feast of Reason, gave them theiropportunity. Here the revelers had burlesqued Henriette as the "Womanof Sorrows," and here the guardsman had thrown off the chaplet andrebuked the crowd.
During the halt Pierre and his companion came up with what speed theycould; he led Louise to the back of the death cart, and placed herhands on the bound and standing figure of poor little Henriette.
"It is your sister!" said Pierre softly.
Gently the blind girl's fingers traveled up to the wet face of herlittle foster-mother, now bending towards her. With a handkerchiefLouise tenderly wiped it, her fingers gave loving little pats of theheaving neck and bosom, she kissed the stained cheeks, and then thegirls' lips met--met long and passionately! No words were spoken, nonewas needed for a reunion that was also a farewell.
The cart moved. The loving lips were parted. Now one might seeLouise's imploring arms still held out toward the sad receding littlefigure.
* * * * *
It was indeed a busy day for the executioners. Batches of men andwomen preceded Henriette and Maurice. Two of these were beautifulyoung girls who, in default of priest, were saying the last offices ofthe Church as they knelt on the bare ground. In tragic glory Faith'sclear credo rang out: "_I am the Resurrection and the Life; he thatbelieveth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live!_"
Their lovely heads dropped in the basket as the knitting women clickedtheir needles and cried "Two!" Henriette, with a physical retch at thesight, fell back half-fainting on Maurice. Roughly the soldiers yankedthem asunder.
"Citizeness, your time is come!" said one of the brawny butchers. Hehalf led, half supported her up the steps of the guillotine....
The Chief executioner turned Henriette about, inspecting her finepoints as an equine connoisseur would inspect a filly. He gloated overher not yet budded form, the swan-like neck, unlined piquant features,the golden head-curls that fell in ringlets.
"A pretty one--eh, Jean?" he commented to his assistant.
Between the two, they had strapped her unresisting on the board. Theylowered it below the razor edge of the knife, so that she lay pronewith her neck directly underneath. The finale was to fasten on theneck piece, a round-holed cross board which prevented the head fromdrawing back....
Alas! what avails it that five miles away--in the heart of thecity--the hoofbeats of a company of cavalry resound rhythmically overthe flagstones?
Danton and his Northern riders are straining every nerve, gallopingtheir steeds furiously--eyes fixed on the seeming-impossible goal.Rather are they modern centaurs, each rider and steed a unit ofundivisible will and energy: Danton a furious resistless hippogriff,fire-striking, fire-exhaling, in unity with his white charger; thelean-jawed, sternly set Captain on his lean galloping Arabian,cyclonic, onrushing like some Spectral Horseman; the rest riding likethe Valkyries--as it were, twixt Heaven and earth--their gallopingbeats scorning the ground as they rush by to the hissing of thecleaved and angry winds.
But what avails it?...
Even on the straightway 'twere a quarter-hour ride to the outer-suburbanlocality where the guillotine does its dreadful work. Ancient Paris withits tortuous streets delays them. Ahead, are Jacques-Forget-Not--Jacobintroops--barriers--gates.
Poor little Henriette's golden head!
Is it not fated to drop in the basket long, long before they canappear?
CHAPTER XXVIII
MANIAC WITH A DAGGER
A sansculotte soldier, less brutal than his fellows, had allowedLouise and Pierre to approach one side of the scaffold. They were moreprivileged than the frantic Picard, who could not get near his youngmaster and mistress. Revolutionary infantry guarded every side of thepublic square. Intermingled among them were the favored hoodlums ofthe Jacobin party, execrating the victims and howling with gleewhenever the dread axe fell.
Among the riff-raff, Mere Frochard and her precious son JacquesFrochard were conspicuous. For no particular reason they were gloatingover the cutting-off of aristocrats, whilst indulging in roughhorseplay at the expense of the friends of the condemned. Picard'squaint look of helpless sympathy excited ready mirth.
"Sniveling over those good-for-nothings, eh?" La Frochard curled herheavy moustachioed lip in scorn.
"We'll find a way to make that sensitive young man feel something--"she confided to Jacques. A moment later she had pulled over asansculotte's bayonet, with which she executed a neat jab intoPicard's anatomy.
Picard leaped in the air like a jumping jack. When he descended toearth and turned to survey the cause of his torment, he faced but animpassive trooper with weapon at parade rest and the grinningcountenances of Mere and Jacques Frochard, convulsed with laughter.
Picard decided the vicinity of the guillotine was almost as dangerousfor him as for his master. He edged out of range, biding the occasionfor a counter-thrust....
Pierre and Louise stood on the other side of the scaffold, the heavystructure of which quite hid the ruffian Frochards and their horseplaywith Picard.
Henriette had been borne up the steps of the guillotine a few momentsbefore Pierre and Louise reached the scene. The cripple, terriblyexcited, was telling Louise of Henriette's being strapped to the boardand shoved toward the knife vent.
"That big murderer is going to kill her!" hissed Pierre.
Louise's blind features became contorted with agony. Large tear dropsfell from her eyes. Both arms were extended toward her sister above,then clawed convulsively at Pierre.
"They-have-put-her-head-in-the crossboard-and--oh, oh!--fastened-it-down!
"The-executioner-is-all-ready." Pierre was gesticulating like amadman. He seemed to be raising despairing hands to high Heaven, intoken of helplessness.
Above--around--everywhere, he looked for succor; found none. A glancefrom Henriette's doomed form to Louise's bitter anguish converts himinto a maniac.
"HE'S ASKING THE MASTER FOR THE SIGNAL TO PULL THE ROPE!"
&n
bsp; Pierre shouts the words in a fury that is rapidly growing uncontrollable.Spectators for the first time notice his strange actions. But neitherthe expectant executioner nor the self-important master of ceremoniallooks down, or distinguishes the cry in the babel of savage sounds.
The wild youth now disengages himself from Louise's clutch. With hisright hand he pulls a dagger from his hip pocket. Look! As themaster's signalling hand is upraised high and begins to lower, the boyleaps up the steps of the guillotine, and attacks the executionerwhose fingers are already on the death rope....
Ride on yet more fiercely, O Danton and ye fierce Cavalrymen--ride on,e'en past the barrier, if Jacques-Forget-Not and his men do not staythee. Yes, thank God! there may yet be time, should this maniac withthe dagger provide sufficient respite!
... The brawny butcher is too astonished to defend himself. Hisnerveless fingers are no longer on the rope; he stands like a stalledox in front of his homicidal assailant. With the rapidity of lightningPierre plunges his long Provencal dirk in the executioner's side. Thebutchered butcher falls with a single bawling outcry and a groan. Thecrowd is thunderstruck, and the pinioned de Vaudrey is wild with joy.Though bound and helpless, he tries to leap up to his prostrateHenriette.
But the master of ceremonial, at first too panic-stricken tointervene, now summons the sansculotte guards from the ground below.Up the steps on the double-quick they rush with fixed bayonets. As thehuge victim falls back into the arms of his assistant, the bayonetingsoldiers corner the dirk-waving Pierre.
The brief contest is quite unequal. In less time than it takes to tellit, one of the men plunges his bright, long steel in Pierre's side.The latter falls like a lump of clay on the scaffold flooring. Severalof the bayonets speed toward the inert lump, with the intent on thepart of their owners to fling the body contemptuously from thescaffold to the floor.
But a more refined cruelty speaks: "Save him for the guillotine!" Thesoldiers leave the crumpled-up, desperately wounded Pierre, doominghim yet to taste La Guillotine's embrace. They subdue de Vaudrey andtruss him up anew.
The roars of the crowd die down. Comparative order is again restored.The master of ceremonial, having recovered the habit of command,orders Jean, the remaining executioner, to complete the stricken one'sjob.
HENRIETTE SAVED FROM THE GUILLOTINE'S KNIFE.]
Fortunately for our heroine under the knife, the second executioner isslow and awkward. He has seen butchery come quite too close to his ownflesh! Still somewhat unnerved, he prepares himself for the task withclumsy movements and halting fingers. The master bids him hurry--Jeantakes his time, he's not going to bungle the job....
As the supreme moment nears, it is well that we should note what ishappening with Danton and his Centaurs--
CHAPTER XXIX
DANTON'S RIDERS
About half way of the journey through the City, Jacques-Forget-Not andhis men take up a stand in front of the onrushing cavalry.
They wave orders and prohibitions.
They yell to the horsemen to draw rein.
Resistlessly the troopers keep their careering course--the talk andgestures are but as the East Wind to tensed Danton, stern-set Captain,and the rest.
Forget-Not's tribe escape the deadly horse hoofs by quick side jumps.
Within the next few minutes--even while the head executioner is makingthe little victim ready--Danton and his riders reach the barrier onthe Guillotine side of Paris. Orders had already been received toclose the gates at the cavalry's approach.
"Quick! there is not a moment to lose," yells the Jacobin commander ashe sights the oncoming host. He hastens to deploy his soldiers withspears and pikes across the barrier, whilst the keepers bring theheavy gates to.
The barred gates and the opposing fighters threaten to dash Danton'severy hope of saving by reprieve his "dear one of treasured memory."Indeed, as we have seen, but for frenzied Pierre's maniacal slaughterof the headsman, the fatal blow would now be falling! Neither Dantonnor his men, of course, know that. Theirs to struggle on, to confrontand conquer fortune, never to despair! Within those iron souls is nosuch thought as "Defeat."
Hurrah!
One foremost rider has managed to squeeze through the mighty gatesbefore they clang. Danton and the rest of his men face a small army onthe closed barrier's City side.
The superb horses would charge against a stone wall if bade to! Theycharge against the living wall of foot soldiers; kicking, pounding,trampling in the narrow space, while the riders strike.
Some footmen perish under the hoofs. Others save themselves byleaping, scrambling out over the side parapets. The attack becomes arout. Hip-hip-hurrah! The lone rider on the guillotine side hassucceeded in unloosing the bar. The gates fly open. Danton's cavalrydash madly down the straight and unobstructed road that leads to thePlace de la Execution, still a few furlongs distant!
Can they even yet save her? For now it would appear as if thesupremely tragical moment might anticipate them--by seconds!
During the final furlongs--the executioner now in readiness--Henriettelooks up with gaping mouth at the awful knife edge. A terrible cryescapes her. Wracked with agony, she gazes about at the sea of hostilefaces--not one stray iota of sympathy in that Dark Hour. Missing is deVaudrey, missing the loved blind sister! As the down-dropping gestureof Death is again begun by the grim master of ceremonial, Henriettewith a low cry of "Louise!" shuts eyes and drops head to receive thestroke!
But the clatter of myriad hoofbeats assails the Master's ears; thehoarse cries of Danton's riders, and the astonished roars of thepopulace. His hand falters. He turns to look at the tumult. Theexecutioner takes his hand off the rope.
The cavalrymen are dashing down the roadway, from which quickclearance has been made by the sansculotte guards and the loaferishspectators. At their head gallops Danton, the Thunderer of old,thundering at the officials, waving in his free hand a State paper!
In front of the death machine he halts and dismounts--then taking thesteps in two bounds, puts the reprieve of Henriette and Maurice in thehands of the master of ceremonial!
The Savior of France--the Organizer of Victory--brings such a show ofpower at his back and compels such respect that none dare questionhim. He strides to the guillotine, bades the trembling executionerrelease Henriette--himself personally unstraps her from the deathboard. So ensues a scene that would wring even a heart of stone: thedelivery of a demented girl from Death's very passion and utmostpang!
Danton takes the little form in his arms, looks in her eyes, kissesher and tries to make her understand.
"For the honor of France," he cries to the assembled multitude, as hestill upholds her swaying figure, "a monstrous injustice is righted.This girl, and that young patriot," signifying to the attendants thatde Vaudrey should be unloosed, "are reprieved by the order of theRevolutionary Tribunal!" The multitude--caught by Danton's tenselydramatic announcement--applauds, even as it had jeered and mocked afew moments since.
But the girl, kept from falling by his protective left arm, stillgazes upon him idiotically. She had died, was it not true ? How then,she lives? What are these crowds, and who is this stranger? Thegallant rescuer fears that her reason is gone!
"Release that boy!"
He has seen the wounded Pierre trussed in the far corner of thescaffold, guessed that some wild deed of the lad's stayed the judicialmurder. His tones to the officials are sharp, imperative. The outragedsuperior of the hacked executioner looks around the assemblage forsome prop of resistance--finds none--trembles--and is all bows andscrapes to do Danton's will. Pierre crawls painfully across theplatform. He kisses the hem of his Savior's garment.
Danton has brought Henriette to the ground. He is looking for herfriends now. Catching sight of blind Louise starting up the steps, hebrings her around and puts the loved sisters in front of oneanother.... Slowly the light of understanding comes into the eyes ofher who had most loved and most suffered. She embraces Louise....Danton is looking for yet another figure, the affianced
of Henriette.He draws over de Vaudrey, places the latter's right hand within thefree hand of Henriette.
"Take her," he says kindly to de Vaudrey. "It is enough for me that Ihave saved France from this foul blot!..."
... Down in the crowd, too, the fortunes of war have changed. Thewicked Frochards, who have been egging on the crowds to jeer thevictims, have become distinctly unpopular. It is Picard's turn to jestthe Frochards now.
A grenadier offers a little friendly assistance with the bayonet,pricking the old hag in a tender part as if by accident. She jumps andsqueals. Sly Picard watches another chance, shoves forward hisfriend's bayonet to prick her again.
... Both she and her precious Jacques the Good-for-Nothing take it onthe run, enduring the buffets of the railing soldiery. Yes,Picard--our genial rogue of a body servant--gets in the last bayonetpricks and body wallops of this story!
CHAPTER XXX
THE AFTERMATH
Danton later suffered the dark hour and the snapping of Life's threadthrough Robespierre's cruelty, but the glory of that valiant soul iseternal.
His plea for the ways of Mercy--his gallant deeds (like thisparticular one) of risking all for the life of a friend--were assignposts to bewildered humanity. He foresaw the precipice down whichthe Terrorists were headed for the pit:
"This time twelvemonth I was moving the creation of that sameRevolutionary Tribunal. I crave pardon for it of God and man. They areall Brothers Cain--I leave the whole business in a frightful welter.Robespierre will follow me; I drag down Robespierre!"
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