CHAPTER X
"Alas! full oft on Guilt's victorious car The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne, While the fair captive, marked with many a scar, In lone obscurity, oppressed, forlorn, Resigns to tears her angel form."--BEATTIE.
A close prisoner in her own house, Madame de Fleury was now guarded bymen suddenly become soldiers, and sprung from the dregs of the people;men of brutal manners, ferocious countenances, and more ferocious minds.They seemed to delight in the insolent display of their newly-acquiredpower. One of those men had formerly been convicted of some horriblecrime, and had been sent to the galleys by M. de Fleury. Revengeactuated this wretch under the mask of patriotism, and he rejoiced inseeing the wife of the man he hated a prisoner in his custody. Ignorantof the facts, his associates were ready to believe him in the right, andto join in the senseless cry against all who were their superiors infortune, birth, and education. This unfortunate lady was forbidden allintercourse with her friends, and it was in vain she attempted to obtainfrom her gaolers intelligence of what was passing in Paris.
"Tu verras--Tout va bien--Ca ira," were the only answers they deigned tomake; frequently they continued smoking their pipes in obdurate silence.She occupied the back rooms of her house, because her guards apprehendedthat she might from the front windows receive intelligence from herfriends. One morning she was awakened by an unusual noise in thestreets; and, upon her inquiring the occasion of it, her guards told hershe was welcome to go to the front windows and satisfy her curiosity. Shewent, and saw an immense crowd of people surrounding a guillotine thathad been erected the preceding night. Madame de Fleury started back withhorror--her guards burst into an inhuman laugh, and asked whether hercuriosity was satisfied. She would have left the room; but it was nowtheir pleasure to detain her, and to force her to continue the whole dayin this apartment. When the guillotine began its work, they had even thebarbarity to drag her to the window, repeating, "It is there you ought tobe!--It is there your husband ought to be!--You are too happy, that yourhusband is not there this moment. But he will be there--the law willovertake him--he will be there in time--and you too!"
The mild fortitude of this innocent, benevolent woman made no impressionupon these cruel men. When at night they saw her kneeling at herprayers, they taunted her with gross and impious mockery; and when shesank to sleep, they would waken her by their loud and drunken orgies--ifshe remonstrated, they answered, "The enemies of the constitution shouldhave no rest."
Madame de Fleury was not an enemy to any human being; she had neverinterfered in politics; her life had been passed in domestic pleasures,or employed for the good of her fellow-creatures. Even in this hour ofpersonal danger she thought of others more than of herself: she thoughtof her husband, an exile in a foreign country, who might be reduced tothe utmost distress now that she was deprived of all means of remittinghim money. She thought of her friends, who, she knew, would exertthemselves to obtain her liberty, and whose zeal in her cause mightinvolve them and their families in distress. She thought of the goodSister Frances, who had been exposed by her means to the unrelentingpersecution of the malignant and powerful Tracassier. She thought of herpoor little pupils, now thrown upon the world without a protector. Whilstthese ideas were revolving in her mind one night as she lay awake, sheheard the door of her chamber open softly, and a soldier, one of herguards, with a light in his hand, entered; he came to the foot of herbed, and, as she started up, laid his finger upon his lips.
"Don't make the least noise," said he in a whisper; "those without aredrunk, and asleep. Don't you know me?--don't you remember my face?"
"Not in the least; yet I have some recollection of your voice."
The man took off the bonnet-rouge--still she could not guess who he was."You never saw me in a uniform before nor without a black face."
She looked again, and recollected the smith to whom Maurice was boundapprentice, and remembered his _patois_ accent.
"I remember you," said he, "at any rate; and your goodness to that poorgirl the day her arm was broken, and all your goodness to Maurice. ButI've no time for talking of that now--get up, wrap this great coat roundyou--don't be in a hurry, but make no noise--and follow me."
She followed him; and he led her past the sleeping sentinels, opened aback door into the garden, hurried her (almost carried her) across thegarden to a door at the furthest end of it, which opened into Les ChampsElysees--"La voila!" cried he, pushing her through the half-opened door."God be praised!" answered a voice, which Madame de Fleury knew to beVictoire's, whose arms were thrown round her with a transport of joy.
"Softly; she is not safe yet--wait till we get her home, Victoire," saidanother voice, which she knew to be that of Maurice. He produced a darklantern, and guided Madame de Fleury across the Champs Elysees, andacross the bridge, and then through various by-streets, in perfectsilence, till they arrived safely at the house where Victoire's motherlodged, and went up those very stairs which she had ascended in suchdifferent circumstances several years before. The mother, who wassitting up waiting most anxiously for the return of her children, claspedher hands in an ecstasy when she saw them return with Madame de Fleury.
"Welcome, madame! Welcome, dear madame! but who would have thought ofseeing you here in such a way? Let her rest herself--let her rest; sheis quite overcome. Here, madame, can you sleep on this poor bed?"
"The very same bed you laid me upon the day my arm was broken," saidVictoire.
"Ay, Lord bless her!" said the mother; "and though it's seven good yearsago, it seemed but yesterday that I saw her sitting on that bed beside mypoor child looking like an angel. But let her rest, let her rest--we'llnot say a word more, only God bless her; thank Heaven, she's safe with usat last!"
Madame de Fleury expressed unwillingness to stay with these good people,lest she should expose them to danger; but they begged most earnestlythat she would remain with them without scruple.
"Surely, madame," said the mother, "you must think that we have someremembrance of all you have done for us, and some touch of gratitude."
"And surely, madame, you can trust us, I hope," said Maurice.
"And surely you are not too proud to let us do something for you. Thelion was not too proud to be served by the poor little mouse," saidVictoire. "As to danger for us," continued she, "there can be none; forMaurice and I have contrived a hiding-place for you, madame, that cannever be found out--let them come spying here as often as they please,they will never find her out, will they, Maurice? Look, madame, intothis lumber-room; you see it seems to be quite full of wood for firing;well, if you creep in behind, you can hide yourself quite sung in theloft above, and here's a trap-door into the loft that nobody ever wouldthink of, for we have hung these old things from the top of it, and whocould guess it was a trap-door? So you see, dear madame, you may sleepin peace here, and never fear for us."
Though but a girl of fourteen, Victoire showed at this time all the senseand prudence of a woman of thirty. Gratitude seemed at once to developall the powers of her mind. It was she and Maurice who had prevailedupon the smith to effect Madame de Fleury's escape from her own house.She had invented, she had foreseen, she had arranged everything; she hadscarcely rested night or day since the imprisonment of her benefactress,and now that her exertions had fully succeeded, her joy seemed to raiseher above all feeling of fatigue; she looked as fresh and moved asbriskly, her mother said, as if she were preparing to go to a ball.
"Ah! my child," said she, "your cousin Manon, who goes to those ballsevery night, was never so happy as you are this minute."
But Victoire's happiness was not of long continuance; for the next daythey were alarmed by intelligence that Tracassier was enraged beyondmeasure at Madame de Fleury's escape, that all his emissaries were atwork to discover her present hiding-place, that the houses of all theparents and relations of her pupils were to be searched, and that themost severe denunciations were issued against all by whom she should beharboured. Manon was t
he person who gave this intelligence, but not withany benevolent design; she first came to Victoire, to display her ownconsequence; and to terrify her, she related all she knew from asoldier's wife, who was M. Tracassier's mistress. Victoire hadsufficient command over herself to conceal from the inquisitive eyes ofManon the agitation of her heart; she had also the prudence not to letany one of her companions into her secret, though, when she saw theiranxiety, she was much tempted to relieve them, by the assurance thatMadame de Fleury was in safety. All the day was passed in apprehension.Madame de Fleury never stirred from her place of concealment: as theevening and the hour of the domiciliary visits approached, Victoire andMaurice were alarmed by an unforeseen difficulty. Their mother, whosehealth had been broken by hard work, in vain endeavoured to suppress herterror at the thoughts of this domiciliary visit; she repeatedincessantly that she knew they should all be discovered, and that herchildren would be dragged to the guillotine before her face. She was insuch a distracted state, that they dreaded she would, the moment she sawthe soldiers, reveal all she knew.
"If they question me, I shall not know what to answer," cried theterrified woman. "What can I say?--What can I do?"
Reasoning, entreaties, all were vain; she was not in a condition tounderstand, or even to listen to, anything that was said. In thissituation they were when the domiciliary visitors arrived--they heard thenoise of the soldiers' feet on the stairs--the poor woman sprang from thearms of her children; but at the moment the door was opened, and she sawthe glittering of the bayonets, she fell at full length in a swoon on thefloor--fortunately before she had power to utter a syllable. The peopleof the house knew, and said, that she was subject to fits on any suddenalarm; so that her being affected in this manner did not appearsurprising. They threw her on a bed, whilst they proceeded to search thehouse: her children stayed with her; and, wholly occupied in attending toher, they were not exposed to the danger of betraying their anxiety aboutMadame de Fleury. They trembled, however, from head to foot when theyheard one of the soldiers swear that all the wood in the lumber-room mustbe pulled out, and that he would not leave the house till every stick wasmoved; the sound of each log, as it was thrown out, was heard byVictoire; her brother was now summoned to assist. How great was histerror when one of the searchers looked up to the roof, as if expectingto find a trap door; fortunately, however, he did not discover it.Maurice, who had seized the light, contrived to throw the shadows so asto deceive the eye. The soldiers at length retreated; and withinexpressible satisfaction Maurice lighted them down stairs, and saw themfairly out of the house. For some minutes after they were in safety, theterrified mother, who had recovered her senses, could scarcely believethat the danger was over. She embraced her children by turns with wildtransport; and with tears begged Madame de Fleury to forgive hercowardice, and not to attribute it to ingratitude, or to suspect that shehad a bad heart. She protested that she was now become so courageous,since she found that she had gone through this trial successfully, andsince she was sure that the hiding-place was really so secure, that sheshould never be alarmed at any domiciliary visit in future. Madame deFleury, however, did not think it either just or expedient to put herresolution to the trial. She determined to leave Paris; and, ifpossible, to make her escape from France. The master of one of the Parisdiligences was brother to Francois, her footman: he was ready to assisther at all hazards, and to convey her safely to Bourdeaux, if she coulddisguise herself properly; and if she could obtain a pass from any friendunder a feigned name.
Victoire--the indefatigable Victoire--recollected that her friend Annettehad an aunt, who was nearly of Madame de Fleury's size, and who had justobtained a pass to go to Bourdeaux, to visit some of her relations. Thepass was willingly given up to Madame de Fleury; and upon reading it overit was found to answer tolerably well--the colour of the eyes and hair atleast would do; though the words _un nez gros_ were not preciselydescriptive of this lady's. Annette's mother, who had always worn theprovincial dress of Auvergne, furnished the high _cornette_, stiff stays,bodice, &c.; and equipped in these, Madame de Fleury was so admirablywell disguised, that even Victoire declared she should scarcely haveknown her. Money, that most necessary passport in all countries, wasstill wanting: as seals had been put upon all Madame de Fleury's effectsthe day she had been first imprisoned in her own house, she could notsave even her jewels. She had, however, one ring on her finger of somevalue. How to dispose of it without exciting suspicion was thedifficulty. Babet, who was resolved to have her share in assisting herbenefactress, proposed to carry the ring to a _colporteur_--a pedlar, orsort of travelling jeweller--who had come to lay in a stock of hardwareat Paris: he was related to one of Madame de Fleury's little pupils, andreadily disposed of the ring for her: she obtained at least two-thirds ofits value--a great deal in those times.
The proofs of integrity, attachment, and gratitude which she received inthese days of peril, from those whom she had obliged in her prosperity,touched her generous heart so much, that she has often since declared shecould not regret having been reduced to distress. Before she quittedParis she wrote letters to her friends, recommending her pupils to theirprotection; she left these letters in the care of Victoire, who to thelast moment followed her with anxious affection. She would have followedher benefactress into exile, but that she was prevented by duty andaffection from leaving her mother, who was in declining health.
Madame de Fleury successfully made her escape from Paris. Some of themunicipal officers in the towns through which she passed on her road wereas severe as their ignorance would permit in scrutinising her passport.It seldom happened that more than one of these petty committees of publicsafety could read. One usually spelled out the passport as well as hecould, whilst the others smoked their pipes, and from time to time held alight up to the lady's face to examine whether it agreed with thedescription.
"Mais toi! tu n'as pas le nez gros!" said one of her judges to her. "Sonnez est assez gros, et c'est moi qui le dit," said another. The questionwas put to the vote; and the man who had asserted what was contrary tothe evidence of his senses was so vehement in supporting his opinion,that it was carried in spite of all that could be said against it. Madamede Fleury was suffered to proceed on her journey. She reached Bordeauxin safety. Her husband's friends--the good have always friends inadversity--her husband's friends exerted themselves for her with the mostprudent zeal. She was soon provided with a sum of money sufficient forher support for some time in England; and she safely reached that freeand happy country, which has been the refuge of so many illustriousexiles.
Murad the Unlucky, and Other Tales Page 16
