by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER XIV.
JESUIT CAMPAIGNING.
While these events were taking place at the abode of advocate Desmarais,a royalist cabal was in full swing in St. Roche Street, on the fourthfloor of an old house built at the rear of a courtyard. An ex-beadle ofthe parish, devoted to Abbot Morlet, and generously feed from thestrong-box of the clerical and aristocratic party, received theconspirators in his lodge, consisting of two mansard buildings huddledtogether. A secret issue, contrived in the bottom of a pantry,communicated from the rear-most of these two buildings with the garretof the neighboring house, which was also kept by royalists. In a cornerof the garret opened a trap which gave access to a _cachette_, as theywere called in those times, a hiding-place large enough to hold fourbeds, and sufficiently supplied with air and light through a section ofdrain-pipe running up along the chimney which formed one of the sides ofthe perfectly contrived refuge. In case of a sudden descent upon thehome of the ex-beadle, the latter, warned by the porter, who was in hisconfidence, would give the alarm to the refugees sheltered with him;these then decamped by the secret issue and gained the cachette, wherethey were doubly secure; for even if the trap in the pantry werediscovered, one would suppose the fugitives to have escaped by thestaircase of the neighboring house. There were in Paris a number ofthese places, designed for refractory priests, ex-nobles, and suspects,who conspired against the Republic.
So on this night in question, the royalist cabal was met at the home ofthe ex-beadle. The Count of Plouernel was there, and his youngerbrother, the Bishop in partibus of Gallipoli; also the Marquis of St.Esteve, that insufferable laugher, who four years before had attendedthe supper given by the Count to Marchioness Aldini; and Abbot Morlet.The members of the cabal were seated in camp chairs about a clay stove;all were dressed like bourgeois, and wore their hair without powder. TheMarquis alone was frizzled like hoar-frost; he had on an elegant coat ofpurple cloth with gold buttons, and purple trousers to match; hisstockings of white silk were half hidden by the legs of hisjockey-boots. Good humor and joviality were written all over hiscountenance, as expansive as if that very moment he were not staking hishead. The Bishop of Gallipoli, the junior of the Count of Plouernel byseveral years, was dressed as a layman; both he and the Marquis, for along time emigrated, had recently succeeded in crossing the frontier andregaining Paris, where they lay in concealment, like a great many otheraristocrats returned from abroad. The face of Jesuit Morlet was still,as always, calm and sardonic; he wore a carmagnole jacket and redbonnet.
Eleven o'clock sounded from the Church of St. Roche.
"Eleven o'clock," quoth the Count of Plouernel. "We were to have beenall met at ten; and here we are only four at the rendezvous. There aretwenty members on the committee. Such negligence is unpardonable! Theabsentees are incurring grave responsibility."
"Their negligence is all the more reprehensible seeing that we must actto-morrow; it is to-morrow that the King is to be taken to that den ofknaves, known as the Convention," added his brother the Bishop.
"Our friends must be kept away by some serious obstacle," continuedPlouernel. "Gentlemen can not be suspected of cowardice."
The Marquis let loose a peal of laughter. "Gentlemen! And thatmoney-changer, that Monsieur Hubert! That blue head! At first I wouldnot be one of the party, when I learned I had to sit with thatbourgeois. But after all, he bears the name of the great St. Hubert,patron of hunters! Hi! hi! And so, out of regard for his patron, Iadmitted the clown!"
"For God's sake, Marquis," broke in Plouernel, "put a bridle on yourhilarity. Let us talk sense. This Monsieur Hubert is a determined clown,and very influential among the old grenadiers of the battalion of theDaughters of St. Thomas."
"Hi! hi! hi!" shrieked the Marquis, "a battalion of girls given thetitle of St. Thomas, who had to touch in order to believe! Hi! hi! hi!Bless me, Count, I could teach that battalion an evolution which wouldamuse us. Load and empty! Hi! hi!"
"No one else is coming; we are wasting precious time. Let us takecounsel," put in Jesuit Morlet, sourly. "The porter is to whistle incase of alarm. At that signal, my god-son, on the watch on the secondfloor, will come up to warn the beadle, and we shall have time to flee,or to gain the cachette through the pantry. Let us take account of thestate of affairs--"
"This double-bottomed pantry reminds me," struck in the uproariousMarquis, "of a certain gallant adventure of which I was once the hero.I'll tell it to you--"
"Devil take the bore! Give us a rest with your stories," quoth theCount.
"Marquis, why did you return to France? Answer categorically," said theBishop to him.
"Idiot! To save my King! To snatch him out of the hands of thePhilistines!"
"And is it thus that you pretend to save him, by interrupting ourdeliberations with your buffoonery? With jests out of season?"
"But you are not deliberating on a thing! You're sitting there likethree sea-storks! Hi! hi! hi! You're not going ahead with the businessany more than I am."
"The giddy fellow is correct," said Morlet, for once taking theMarquis's side. "We shall never finish if we do not introduce some orderinto this. I shall take the chair, and open the meeting."
"You--take the chair--my reverend sir? And by what right?" was the replyof the Bishop of Gallipoli.
"By the right which a man of sense has over fools like the Marquis; bythe right which my age gives me. For I am here much older than any ofyou."
"So be it; preside," said Plouernel.
"If it is only a question of the precedence of age, I yield," said hisbrother.
"Oh, and I also! Hi! hi!" cried the Marquis, holding his sides.
"By heaven, Marquis, we shall have to toss you out of the window!"impatiently shouted the Count.
"Shut your heads, one and all of you," commanded Abbot Morlet. "I shallput the case to you in two words. To-morrow Louis XVI will be conductedfrom the prison of the Temple to the bar of the Convention. The occasionseems favorable for rescuing the King during the passage. Here is themeans proposed. Five or six hundred resolute men, armed under theircloaks with pistols and poniards, will meet at different placespreviously agreed on, and locate themselves in isolated groups along theroute to be taken by the King; they will mingle with the crowd, affectthe language of the sans-culottes, and propagate the rumor, designedlylaunched several days ago, that the majority of the Convention isresolved to spare the life of Capet, and that the people must takejustice into its own hands. Our agents will strive thus to inflame thepeople; during the passage of the King they will cry, 'Death to thetyrant!' At those words, the signal agreed upon, they shall resolutelyattack the escort with pistols and daggers. It is our hope that, favoredby the tumult, we may be able boldly to seize Louis XVI, and carry himoff to some safe retreat prepared in advance. Our men will then march tothe Convention and exterminate its members; this being successfullyaccomplished, proclamations already in print will be placarded overParis calling all honest men to arms against the Republic. A part of theold elite companies of the National Guard, all the royalists andconstitutionalists of Paris, the Emigrants who have been arriving for afortnight--all will respond to the call to arms, and conduct the King tothe Tuileries. Numerous emissaries will be sent at once into the westand south, and to Lyons, all of which places are ready to rise at thevoice of the nobles and priests in hiding there. Civil war will flare upat once in several parts of the kingdom. The foreign armies, demoralizedby their defeat at Valmy, are now beating an offensive retreat to thefrontier; it is hoped that, through the civil war and the consequentchaos, the allies will regain the advantage they had at the opening ofthe campaign, advance on Paris by forced marches, and inflict terriblechastisement upon it. This culmination, prepared with a long hand--theonly way to save the King--was about to occur just before the Septembermassacres. The massacres had their good and their bad side."
"You dare to say there was a good side to that carnage? Your language isodious!" interrupted the Bishop.
"The massacres of September had a good
side and a bad side," calmlyreiterated the Abbot. "Here is the bad: The most active chiefs in theconspiracy, detained as suspects in the prisons, whence they werecarrying on their plots, were killed; the royalists of Paris and theprovinces, struck with terror, lay low and ceased their activity. Ittook three months to knit together all the threads of the conspiracywhich had been snapped by the death of its leaders. The Septembermassacres had also the bad aspect for us that they were combined with anoutburst of patriotism. The volunteers, flocking in mass to the front,changed entirely by their bedevilled fury the previous tactics of thewar. The Prussian infantry, the best in Europe, was overcome by themad-caps--there is danger lest it may long remain in the panic intowhich it was thrown by the bayonet charge of the volunteers at thebattle of Valmy."
"Blue death! my reverend sir, you would best hold your tongue in mattersof war, of which you know nothing!" the Count of Plouernel impatientlydeclared. "I served in the Emigrant corps which stormed the position ofCroix-aux-Bois at the battle of Argonne; I was at the side of the Dukeof Brunswick in the affray at Valmy; and I say that if the Prussianinfantry was beaten down by these bare-feet, who precipitated themselvesupon us like savages, it is now recovered from the panic, and asksnothing better than to avenge its disgrace. Yes, and let a war come, areal war, a great war, and the allies will make a butchery of theseundisciplined hordes. The Prussians will feed fat their vengeance!"
"And I in turn tell you, that in this matter you are completely off yourbase," was the Abbot's unmoved rejoinder.
"By heaven, my reverend sir!" flared back the Count, "measure yourterms!"
And the giggling Marquis cried, "Plague on it, Abbot, all you need is aswitch to give us a flogging! Hi! hi! hi!"
"And in your case in particular, Marquis, it would fall where it wasdeserved. But to continue, I come now to the good, the excellent side ofthe September massacres."
Again the mere mention of such a possibility was more than the Bishopcould contain himself under. "It is impossible," he broke in, "to sitstill and hear it said in cold blood that that abominable carnageproduced any good results."
"Monseigneur," was Morlet's reply, "it does not at all become you todiscredit events in which you did not participate. Disguised as acharcoal burner, and with my god-son as a chimney-sweep, I saw thesemassacres at close range. Do you remember, Count, what I told you overthe supper-table, four years ago, the evening the Bastille was taken:The ferocious beast must get the taste of blood to put it in the humorof slaying? Well, so it was. And, to make the blood flow, I rolled backmy sleeves to the elbow, and set to work! So I say again, the massacresof September held this much good for us, that they aroused generalhorror throughout Europe and exasperated the foreign powers, evenincluding England, which was until then almost neutral, but is nowbecome the soul of the coalition. Even in Paris, this execrable hot-bedof revolution, where, it must be admitted, the massacres were, in amoment of vertigo, accepted by all classes of the people as a measure ofpublic safety, they now inspire unspeakable horror! The revolutioniststhemselves are divided into two camps--the patriots of the 10th ofAugust, and the Septembrists--a precious germ of internal discord amongthe wretches. All in all, there is good, much good for us, in the daysof September. The terror evoked by them will come to the assistance ofthe present plot. Everything is prepared; the posts are assigned, thedepots of arms established, the proclamations printed. Lehiron, a knavefor any trick, if you grease his palm well, is in charge of the band ofmake-believe sans-culottes which is to assail the King's escort. I cananswer for his intelligence and courage; he awaits his final orders nextdoor. Finally, this very evening, and in spite of the careful guard keptabout him, Louis XVI is to receive from his waiting-man Clery word ofthe project, merely that the prince may not be frightened at the tumult,and that he may follow with confidence those who give him the pass-word,'God and the King! Pilnitz and Brunswick.' That, then, is how mattersstand. A plot has been framed, it is on the eve of being carried out.Now, I put this question: Is the time ripe for action?"
Mute with astonishment, the Count, the Marquis and the Bishop staredblankly at one another. The Count was the first to break the silence:
"How is that! You give out the details, the agencies, the object of theplot, the execution of which is fixed for to-morrow, and still you seemto be in doubt as to whether action should be taken?"
"I ask deliberation on these two plain propositions: First, would it notbe more opportune to await the day set for the execution of LouisXVI--his condemnation is not a matter of doubt--and only then attemptour stroke, in the hope that the horror of regicide will add to thenumber of our partisans? And secondly,--it is I, on my own initiative,on my own responsibility, who propose this grave question--would it notbe more expedient, in the manifest interest of the Church and themonarchy--simply to allow Louis to be guillotined?"
The Jesuit's proposal, as strange as it was unexpected, threw hishearers into such amazement that they were struck dumb anew, and satwith their mouths hanging open. Three taps at the door, given like apreconcerted signal, were heard in the stillness.
"It is my god-son," whispered the Jesuit; and in a louder tone, headded: "Come in!"
Little Rodin was togged out in a red jacket and bonnet the same as theprelate. He saluted the company.
"What news, my child? What have you to tell us?" inquired hispreceptor.
"Gentle god-father, there is a man down below, with the porter,disguised as a woman. He gave the pass-word, but the porter, notrecognizing him, replied that he knew not what he was after with hisjargon. Scenting a possible spy, the porter sent his wife up to me onthe second floor, to warn me of what had happened."
"Doubtless it is one of our men, obliged to take refuge in disguise,"began the Count.
"It is more serious than that," the Bishop dissented. "How are you tomake sure he is one of us?"
"A man tricked out as a woman!" exclaimed the Marquis. "Is this carnivaltime?"
"You know all our people by sight?" asked Morlet of his god-son.
"Yes, dear god-father. When I've seen a person once, I do not forgethim. The Lord God," and he crossed himself, "has blessed His littleservant with the gift of memory, which he has so much use for."
"Go down to the porter's lodge," returned his dear god-father. "Examinethe personage in question. If you recognize him, tell the porter to lethim come up. If not, come back and let me know."
"Yes, good god-father, your orders shall be followed to the dot!"responded little Rodin, sliding out of the door, while the Bishop asked,dubiously:
"But may not that child make a mistake? Meseems the errand is poorlyentrusted."
"My god-son is a prodigy of cleverness and penetration," returned theAbbot.
The interrupted topic of discussion was immediately resumed by theCount.
"I refuse to sit under a chairman," said he, "a priest, a subject of theKing, who has the sacrilegious audacity of bringing up for considerationthe abominable question, Is it, yes or no, expedient to allow Louis XVIto be guillotined?"
"Such abomination would seem incredible," chimed in the Bishop, "did onenot know that the Society of Jesus often preaches regicide."
"The Society of Jesus has preached, has counseled regicide whenever itbecame important to suppress Kings _ad majorem Dei gloriam_--to thegreater glory of God! The church is above monarchs," retorted therepresentative of the Society.
"A capital pleasantry!" put in the Marquis. "Here we are met to adviseon measures to save the King, and the priest proposes to us to let themclip his head! The idea is brilliant!"
At this moment little Rodin returned, and reported to the Jesuit:
"Good god-father, in the person rigged out as a woman I have recognizedMonsieur Hubert."
"Let him come in," ordered the recipient of the information.
Still in Madam Desmarais's hat and fur cloak Hubert entered the room. Atthe sight, the Marquis greeted him with a roar of laughter. Pale withrage, Hubert threw at his feet his feminine head-gear, dash
ed off thecloak which hid his vest and grey trousers, rushed at the Marquis, and,shaking his fist under the latter's nose, cried:
"You shall give me a reason for your insolence, you pigeon-housetenant!"
But the Count of Plouernel and his brother the Bishop interposed betweenthe two, and succeeded in calming the financier's irritation, explainingto him that the Marquis was a hare-brain, and should not be takenseriously. Apparently bent upon proving his reputation, the Marquiscried out:
"Pardon, dear sir, hi! hi! or, rather, dear madam! Ah, ah, ah! if youknew what a winsome face you had! Pardon me, I am all upset over it--itis too much for me. Ah, ah, ah! Oh, the idea! I shall die of bottled-uplaughter if you don't let me give vent to it!"
Suiting action to word, the Marquis went off into another roar ofhysterics. Hubert's violent nature was about once more to get the betterof him, but once more was it appeased by the solicitations of the Countand his brother. At last he cooled down sufficiently to make known tothe company the secret of his transfiguration, and how he owed his lifeto his sister's devotion. During these confidences, the laughter of theMarquis gradually died out.
"Then, that part of St. Honore Street where you have just missed arrest,dear Monsieur Hubert," said the Count, "will to-night be watched by thepolice, and I may, on leaving here, fall into their hands. For therefuge where I have hidden myself since my return to Paris is situatedclose to the St. Honore Gate. The wife of a former whipper-in in theKing's Huntsmen is giving me asylum. From the window of my garret I cansee the house of this Desmarais, your brother-in-law; whom I now regretnot having allowed to die under the cudgels when I had him flogged bymy lackeys."
"You live near the St. Honore Gate, you say, Count? What is the numberof the house, if you please?" asked the Abbot with a start.
"Number 19; the entrance is distinguished by a small gate-way."
"You could not have chosen your refuge worse! I am glad to be able towarn you of your danger. At No. 17 of that same street live two membersof the Lebrenn family, John the iron-worker, and that beautiful womanwhom you knew under the name of Marchioness Aldini. Be on your guard,for if these people came to know where you were hidden, they would notlet slip the opportunity to wreak on you the hate with which they havepursued your family for so many centuries."
"Now that that fool of a Marquis has become almost reasonable, let usresume the course of our deliberation," replied the Count, thankingMorlet for his information; and addressing Hubert: "When you came in,the priest was having the presumption to propose for our considerationthe question whether it would not be wiser to postpone the projectedstroke until after the King was sentenced, instead of to-morrow, as wepurpose."
"Any such delay would be all the sadder seeing that this very evening acase of arms, containing also several copies of our proclamation, wasseized in my brother-in-law's house. The Committee of General Safetythus has by this time the most flagrant proof of a conspiracy. So then,I say, we must make haste. Yesterday and day before I saw severalofficers and grenadiers of my old battalion, who are very influentialin their quarter. They await but the signal to run to arms. Thebourgeoisie has a horror of the Republic."
"Confess, Monsieur Hubert, that it would be better for the bourgeoisieto resign itself to what it calls 'the privileges of the throne, theimmunities of the nobility and clergy,' than to submit to the tyranny ofthe populace," rejoined Plouernel.
"Monsieur Count, a few years ago you administered through the cudgels ofyour lackeys a good dressing down to a man whom I have the unhappinessto possess for brother-in-law. I, in his place, would have paid youback, not by proxy, through hirelings, but in person. Now, greatseigneur that you are, what would you have done in that case?"
"Eh! My God, my poor Monsieur Hubert! If I did not, in the first momentof anger, run you through the body with my sword, I would have beenunder the obligation of asking for a lettre de cachet and sending you tothe Bastille."
"Because a man of your birth could not consent to fight a bourgeois?"
"Certainly; for the tribunal composed of our seigneurs the Marshals ofFrance, to which the nobility refers its affairs of honor, would haveformally prohibited the duel; and we are bound by oath to respect thedecisions of Messieurs the Marshals. For the common herd we have nothingbut contempt."
"It seems to me we are wandering singularly astray from the question atstake," interposed the Bishop. "Let us come back to it."
"Not at all, Monsieur Bishop," retorted Hubert. "We must first of allknow what we are conspiring for. If we are conspiring to overthrow theRepublic, we must know by what regime we shall replace it. Shall it beby an absolute monarchy, as before, or by the constitutional monarchy of1791? Well, gentlemen of the nobility, gentlemen of the clergy, what wewant, we bourgeois, we of the common herd, whom you despise, is theconstitutional monarchy. Take that for said."
"So that the bourgeoisie may reign in fact, under the semblance of akingdom? We reject that sort of a government," sneered Plouernel.
"Naturally."
"Whence it follows that you wish to substitute the bourgeois oligarchy,the privilege of the franc, for our aristocracy?"
"Without a doubt. For we hold in equal aversion both the old regime,that is, the rule of unbridled privilege, and the Republic."
"Let us come back to the subject," snapped Jesuit Morlet. "Thebourgeoisie, the nobility, the clergy--all abominate the Republic. Somuch is settled. Let us, then, first attend to the overthrow of theRepublic; later we may decide on its successor. Let us decideimmediately whether we shall or shall not delay the execution of ourplot of to-morrow--the first question; and the second, which, to tellthe truth, ought to take precedence over the other--whether it would notbe better after all, in the combined interests of the Church, themonarchy, the nobility and the bourgeoisie, simply to let them, withoutany more ado, send Louis to the guillotine!"
The Jesuit's words were again received with imprecations by the Bishopand Monsieur Plouernel, while the Marquis, finding the idea funnier andfunnier, burst into irrepressible laughter. Hubert, greatly surprised,but curious to fathom the Abbot's purposes, insisted on knowing thereasons on which he based his opinion. Accordingly, when silence wasrestored, the Jesuit commenced:
"I maintain, and I shall prove, that the sentencing and execution ofLouis XVI offer to us precious advantages. This sovereign--I leave it toyou, Count, and to you, Monsieur Hubert--is completely lost, both as anabsolute King, because he lacks energy, and as a constitutional King,because he has twenty times striven to abolish the Constitution which hepledged himself to support. So much is self-evident and incontestible.Accordingly, the death of Louis XVI will deliver us from the unpleasantoutcome of an absolute King without vigor, if absolute royalty is toprevail; and will spare us a constitutional King without fidelity to hisoath, if constitutional royalty wins out. That settles the first andextremely interesting point. Second point, the execution of the Kingwill deal a mortal blow to the Republic. Louis XVI will become a martyr,and the wrath of the foreign sovereigns will be aroused to the lastnotch against a rising Republic which for first gage of battle throws attheir feet the head of a King, and summons their peoples to revolt. Theextermination of the Republic will thus become a question of life anddeath for the monarchs of Europe; they will summon up a millionsoldiers, and invest vast treasuries, coupled with the credit ofEngland. Can the outcome of such a struggle be doubted? France, withouta disciplined army; France, ruined, reduced to a paper currency, tornby factions, by the civil war which we priests will let loose in thewest and south--France will be unable to resist all Europe. But, inorder to exasperate the foreign rulers, to excite their hatred, theirfury, they must be made to behold the head of Louis XVI rolling at theirfeet!"
"Reverend sir, you frighten me with your doctrines!" was all the Countof Plouernel could say. With a paternal air the Jesuit continued:
"Big baby! I am through. One of two things: Either to-morrow's plotworks well, or it works ill. In the first case, Louis XVI is delivered;the Conven
tion is exterminated. A thousand resolute men can carry outthe stroke. But afterwards? You will have to fight the suburbs, theSections, the troops around Paris, which will run to the succor of thecapital."
"We shall fight them!" was Hubert's exclamation.
"We shall cut them to pieces! Neither mercy nor pity for the rebels!"cried Plouernel.
"We shall have the bandits from the prisons set fire to the suburbs atall four corners! A general conflagration!" suggested the Bishop.
"And these worthy tenants of the suburbs," giggled the Marquis, "seeingtheir kennels ablaze, will think of nothing else but to fire in the air,to check the flames. Hi! hi! hi! The idea is a jolly one!"
Morlet the Jesuit again brought the conversation back into its channel."Monsieur Hubert," he said to the banker, "at what number do youestimate the energetic bourgeois who will take part in the fight?"
"Five or six thousand, old members of the National Guard. I can answerfor that number."
"I am willing to concede you ten thousand. There are ten thousand men.And you, Count, how many do you think there are of the returnedEmigrants, the old officers and soldiers of the constitutional guard ofLouis XVI, and finally of the ex-servitors of the King and thePrinces--coachmen, lackeys, whippers-in, stable-boys and other menials,who form your minute-militia?"
"I figure on four thousand--or less," replied the Count.
"Let us say five thousand. Add them to Monsieur Hubert's ten thousandNational Guards, and we have a total of fifteen thousand men. Now,although Paris has vomited to the frontiers since September fiftythousand volunteers, how estimate you the number remaining of thesesans-culottes and Jacobins of the suburbs, the Sections and thefederations, and finally the regiments of infantry, cavalry andartillery which are republican?"
"There are fifteen thousand men, about, troops of all arms, not inParis, but within the constitutional limits, that is, within twelveleagues of the capital," Hubert answered.
"These troops could reach Paris in one day's march. There you havefifteen thousand men in trained and equipped corps, cavalry, infantry,and artillery, devoted to the Republic and the Convention; troops equalin number to your fifteen thousand insurgents. We can number the Jacobinpopulation of the suburbs and the Sections, and the hordes of thefederations, at thirty thousand--scamps, armed with pikes or guns, andprovided with cannon as well! Now, suppose the King liberated, and themembers of the Convention exterminated. You then find yourselves faceto face with a regular and irregular army of forty-five thousanddetermined villains, while you number only fifteen thousand men, withoutartillery, and extremely ill provided with supplies."
"A brave man doesn't count his enemies--he attacks them!" exclaimedHubert.
"We shall have for auxiliaries the foreign armies," interjectedPlouernel, "and the civil war in the west and south."
"Let us not be carried away by fancies. We are considering a levy ofdefenders which must be made to-morrow, in Paris; we are considering afight which will be over in one day, in the capital," returned AbbotMorlet, coldly.
"If we are beaten in Paris, we shall retreat to the revolted provinces!We shall be new food to the civil war!" cried the Bishop.
"The mitre weighs too much for your head, monseigneur," retorted theJesuit. "Retreat to the provinces, say you? But if the insurrection isdefeated, how are you going to slip through the hands of the victors inthe fray? All or nearly all of you will be massacred or guillotined."
"Eh!" cried the Count, in a rage, "our friends the foreigners willavenge us! They will burn Paris to the ground!"
"And the King? He will have been, I suppose, delivered by a bold sortie.But the insurrection worsted, he will be retaken and will not escapedeath."
"Well, we shall avenge him by a civil and a foreign war," was the lamesolution of the problem proposed by the Count.
"Let us proceed," continued the Abbot. "Since, taking your own figures,it is a hundred to one that, even if you succeed in snatching Louis fromhis jailers for an instant, he will not fail to be retaken and have hishead shorn off, what will your insurrection have availed you? Let thegood populace, then, tranquilly trim the neck of this excellent prince.His death will be the signal for civil war, for the foreign invasion,and for the stamping out of the Republic. Do not uselessly endanger yourlives and those of your friends; they can, like you, render greatservice at the proper moment. Accordingly, I sum up: the interests ofall--bourgeoisie, nobles and clergy--will best be served by lettingLouis XVI be guillotined with the briefest possible delay. I havespoken."
The inflexible logic of the prelate made a keen impression on hisauditors. He spoke sooth in regard to the certain defeat of the royalistinsurrection, and in relation to the redoubled fury into which the deathof Louis would throw the rulers of the surrounding monarchies. Nothing,indeed, could be more formidable than their concerted efforts andactivity against the Republic--impoverished, torn by factions and almostwithout trained troops as the latter would be. But the Jesuit suspectednot, was unable, despite his profound cunning, to conceive, whatprodigies love of country and the republican faith were soon to givebirth to.
"By the Eternal! my reverend sir," at last cried the Count, "why, then,have you approved of our projects, why have you put at our serviceLehiron and his band of frightful villains after his own pattern, tohelp undertake the affair?"
"Firstly, because I might have been mistaken in my conjectures--_Errarehumanum est_--to err is human. A man of sense is not obstinate in hiserror. Secondly, and this is supreme to me, I have received from theGeneral of my Order, at Rome, these instructions: '_It is important toour holy mother the Church that Louis XVI be crowned with the palm ofmartyrdom_.' So that, having tested the danger and uselessness of anuprising, I declare point-blank my determination not to take the leastpart in it; I declare that I shall withhold from it whatever means ofaction I can in any way control; in short, I shall oppose it in allpossible manner, licit and illicit. On the which account," concluded theJesuit, rising and bowing, "I shall now withdraw, so please you, myhumble reverence from your honorable company. I have nothing more to dohere."
The Abbot moved impassively toward the door, only replying to the looksof wonder on every face with the words, "I have said."
But Hubert blocked his passage, and cried: "Miserable cassock,hypocrite, cock-roach! Would you be also capable of denouncing us?"
"I am capable of everything to the end of preventing an act reprobatedby the General of my Order. The General of the Jesuits has spoken; allmust obey him--even Kings, even the Pope. Silence and obedience are thewords!"
So saying, and profiting by the stupor into which his audacity andself-possession threw the other conspirators, the Jesuit left the room.
"We are off, god-son," he said to little Rodin when he had descended tothe second floor. "Come, my child; other cares call me elsewhere."
"Me also," responded the boy, blessing himself and rising. "I am readyto follow you, good god-father. Command. To hear you is to obey."
