We must postpone our departure until the twentieth,” I said, and I sent a messenger at once to Axel. He was disturbed at the postponement, for everyone involved throughout the journey had had their instructions; but we arranged that Leonard, the hairdresser, whom I knew I could trust, should take my jewels to Brussels and at the same time he could meet the cavalry on the road with a note explaining that we should be a day late.
This was settled; Leonard left with the jewels. And now we were breathlessly awaiting the twentieth.
The important day had arrived. The sun was shining brilliantly and this seemed a good omen. There would be few people in the city, I whispered to Elisabeth; they would be out in the country on such a day. Madame Rochereuil had gone off to visit her sick friend; and the day passed very slowly so that I thought it would never end. But outwardly it appeared to be an ordinary day, which was as we wanted it.
At last it was supper time; we lingered as usual, but naturally there was not the same ceremony as we had had to endure at Versailles. At least we could be thankful for this. I went to my bedroom and from there hurried to my daughter’s on the first floor. The waiting woman, Madame Brunier, opened the door. I told her that she must dress Madame Royale as quickly as possible and be prepared to slip out of the chateau with Madame de Neuville, the Dauphin’s waiting woman. A cabriolet was waiting for them at the Pont-Royal; they were to leave Paris at once and wait for us at Claye.
My daughter was old enough to guess what this meant. She did not ask questions. Poor child, she was being brought up in an odd world. She looked a little surprised at the simple dress we had made for her; it was cotton with little blue flowers on a gosling-green background pretty enough for the daughter of a Russian lady; scarcely a Princesse’s gown.
I kissed her and held her against me for a few seconds.
“My darling Mousseline,” I whispered.
“You will obey quickly?”
And she nodded and said, “Yes, Maman,” almost reproach fully as though she was surprised I should ask.
Then to my son’s room. He was already awake and gave a cry of delight when he saw me.
“Maman,” he cried.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going where there are a lot of soldiers.”
“May I take my sword? Quick, bring me my sword, Madame. And my boots.
I’m going to be a soldier. “
He was dismayed when he saw what he was to wear:
a girl’s dress!
“Oh … is it a play, then?” he asked.
“So we are going to be disguised.” He began to laugh. He loved playacting.
“And at night too,” he added.
“That is the best time for plays.”
‘now, my little Chou d’Amour, you must be quiet and quick and do what you’re told. Everything depends on that. “
He nodded conspiratorially.
“Trust Chou d’Amour, Maman.”
“I do, my darling,” I said kissing him.
It was a quarter to eleven. Axel had worked out times very carefully and we should be on our way. The plan was that the children with Madame de Tourzel should leave first. I had been against this, for I could not bear to think of the children’s beginning the perilous journey without me, but Axel would be with them until I joined them and that had to be my consolation.
Madame de Tourzel picked up the Dauphin, and, taking my daughter’s hand, I led the way to the apartments of one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber who had left Paris only the day before, consequently his apartments were empty. I had the key to these apartments and we went in. From there we stepped into the Cour des Princes through a door which was unguarded. Waiting there was Axel. I scarcely recognised him in his coachman’s uniform.
In the middle of the courtyard was the citadine which was to take them to the rendezvous in the Rue de l”Echelle at the corner of the Place du Petit-Carrousel.
Axel lifted the Dauphin into the carriage; Madame Royale followed with Madame de Tourzel, and Axel shut the door. He looked at me for a brief second, and although he dared not speak he was telling me that he would defend them with his life if need be. Then he leaped into the coachman’s seat, cracked his whip and the dtadine moved, off.
I felt sick with apprehension. What if my children should be recognised? What if my son in his excitement at the adventure should betray them? What if they should be attacked? Memories of faces I had seen in the mob kept coming into my mind; I kept thinking of those dirty bloodstained hands touching my darlings.
But Axel was there to defend them. His love for me would give him the strength of ten men and the cunning to outwit a mob of savages.
But I must not stand here in the Cour des Princes. If I were recognised the whole plan would fail. I was courting disaster; I went quickly back into the palace through the empty apartments to the drawing-room, where Provence and his wife were saying goodbye. I embraced them and wished them good fortune. He and his wife had never been friends to me, but misfortune had softened resentments. Provence was more of a realist than Louis. Perhaps had he been the King . But who could say? Now, though, rivalry had gone. The only goal of us all was to preserve the Monarchy.
I heard them leave through those empty apartments. In their shabby carriages they left the Tuileries and were on their way.
I left the King in conference with La Fayette and went to my room. My women undressed me; the servants fastened the shutters and I was alone. I looked at the clock. It was eleven-fifteen—the longest half-hour I had ever known.
Madame Thiebaut came into the room. I was out of bed in a second and she was helping me to put on the grey gown and black mantle. There was a large hat with a veil falling from it to shade my face. I looked unlike myself-but I was ready.
Madame Thiebaut slipped back the bolt on the door and I started out. I jumped back in terror. There was a sentry outside my door. I shut the door quietly and looked at Madame Thiebaut. What now? They had heard.
They were waiting for me to go, and then . they would stop me. Had they already stopped the citadinef What was happening to my children, to my lover?
Madame Thiebaut said she would slip out and that might engage the sentry’s attention; when his back was turned I must somehow cross the corridor and reach those empty apartments. It was a desperate plan; but it had to be.
And we did it. I had always been light on my feet, and spurred on by the thought of the children, I dashed across the corridor to the staircase and flew down. I stood for a second listening; there was no sound of commotion. I had succeeded.
Outside the unguarded door of the empty apartment the loyal guard who was to conduct me to the rendezvous in the Rue de L’Echelle was waiting. He was disguised as a courier and I scarcely recognised him.
“Madame,” he whispered, and I could sense his agitation. The affair of the sentry had delayed me almost ten minutes. You should take my arm.”
I did so and we walked across the Cour des Princes in the manner, I hoped, of a courier and his wife or mistress.
No one looked at us. It is succeeding, I thought. Soon I shall be with the children.
It was fantastic. Here I was walking through the streets of Paris on the arm of a courier, brushing shoulders with men and women who did not give me a second glance . fortunately. I wondered what they would say, what they would do, if someone suddenly recognised the Queen. But it was something I dared not think of.
How little I knew of our capital city! The alleys and byways were new to me. All I knew of it were the palaces, the Opera House, the theatres. My companion drew up suddenly with a start, for a coach was coming towards us and before it walked the torchbearers in the livery of La Fayette. I was quickly drawn into the dark shadow. I lowered my head, but through my veil I saw the General. There was one second when, had he looked into my face, he who knew me so well would have recognised me, and that would have been the end of everything.
But luck at that moment was with me. He did not glance at
the woman on the pavement and his coach went rattling on. I felt dizzy with the shock, and I heard the man beside me whisper: “Thank God, Madame! A lucky escape.”
“Perhaps,” I murmured, ‘he would not have recognised me in this. “
He answered: “Madame, it is not easy for you to disguise yourself. I am going to take a slightly longer route to the Rue de FEchelle. We cannot risk meeting any more carriages.”
“I think that would be best.”
“We must hurry, because it will take a little longer and we are already late.”
So instead of taking the planned route through the main streets we went through the byways and alleys and when we had gone a little way my guide stopped and declared himself lost.
I was conscious of the time, which had seemed so slow during that first half-hour and now was maliciously rushing by. My companion was mortified, myself in a panic. I pictured Axel’s anxiety. Even my husband must be there by now, for we had seen La Fayette leaving the palace and as soon as he was rid of him Louis would have prepared himself to leave.
For half an hour we wandered through those alleys—afraid to ask the way—and then at last my guide gave a cry of triumph. We had reached the Rue de FEchelle.
They were all there, Axel, pacing the pavement; Elisabeth as pale as a ghost; the King, roused from his usual placidity; my daughter calming my son, who was plaintively asking when I was coming.
We lost our way,” I said; and Axel helped me into the citadme.
In the coach everyone was trying to embrace me at once. I felt so relieved I was almost in tears. I took my son on to my knee while my husband told me how easily he had effected his escape.
We must have been an hour late.
The King looked out on his city as we rode through it. He was feeling very sad, I knew, because he had stood out for so long against running away; it seemed to him unworthy of his ancestors. I took his hand and pressed it and he returned the pressure.
He whispered to me: “This is not the quickest way to the Saint Martin Barrier.”
“The … the coachman will know the way,” I answered.
“It is not the quickest way,” he said; and I wondered whether he was stirred to some resentment because the hero of this adventure was my lover and not himself. He had seemed to understand my need of Axel so well; but perhaps there were some depths which I had not yet probed in this unusual man who was my husband.
The carriage drew up in the Rue de dichy, where the berline had been kept. Axel leapt down and knocked on the door. The porter told him that the beriine had left at the appointed time. Satisfied) Axel jumped into the driver’s seat and we were off.
It was half past one when we went through the Barrier. On for a little, and then we stopped. There was consternation, for the beriine was not where it had been arranged it should be.
Axel was nonplussed. He dismounted and I could hear him calling. We sat there while time began its trick of racing on. How much time had we lost so? How late were we so far?
It was half an hour before Axel found the beriine. The coachman whom Axel had employed had grown anxious because we were so late and had thought be had better hide the berline in a less prominent position. This he had done, with the consequence that we lost half an hour looking for it.
It was now two o’clock; this was the height of summer and the nights were the shortest. In an hour or so, dawn would be on us. We should have been much farther on our journey by now.
Axel drove the citadme to the side of the berline so that we could get into the latter without dismounting from the former. We settled in and were away, and in half an hour we had reached Bondy, the place where the King had decreed that Axel was to leave us.
I almost thought he would refuse to leave us; but Axel was a born royalist; he would accept the orders of the King.
Bondy! The place of separation. We had drawn up. The carriage door opened and there was our coachman.
“Adieu, Madame de Korff,” he said. And he was looking at me.
The King said in moving tones that he would never forget the service Axel had done to him and his family.
Axel bowed and replied it had been his duty and his pleasure. He leaned towards me and said: “Your Majesty should not forget that for the journey you are Madame Rocher the governess.” And in those words he managed to convey a world of tenderness and devotion.
Axel mounted the horse which he had arranged should take him back to Le Bourget; then he left us. And as I listened to his horse’s hoofs on the road I tried to sri’ll the foreboding in my heart and to tell myself that in two days’ time we should meet at Mononedy.
Then we resumed our journey.
We were two hours behind schedule.
The children slept and I was glad of this. So did the King. Would anything disturb his slumbers? Elisabeth, Madame de Tourzel and I closed our eyes. I doubt if those two slept; I know I did not. The Dauphin woke. He was hungry.
I told him we would have a picnic. He had always loved them. He began to chatter. We would find a spot. A shady spot perhaps. It would be a breakfast picnic. I told him it would be a carriage picnic; and I showed him the cupboard in the coach and the food and wine it contained. He was delighted and we all declared that he made such an odd little girl in his frock and bonnet that we were soon laughing as we discovered how hungry we all were.
How different, I thought, everything is by daylight. It is at night that the fears come. Yet it was the cover of darkness we needed badly.
The bright sunshine could serve to betray us. I remembered those words: “It is difficult for you to disguise yourself, Madame.” They were true. My picture had been painted many times. It had hung in the salons; crude drawings of me had been circulated daily about the city, and although, I trust, these were ill representations, they bore some semblance of likeness, for the people had to know whom the picture was meant to portray.
Still for the time being I laughed with the children as we devoured the delicacies which Axel had provided as being fit for a royal party.
And I tried not to think of what would be happening back at the Tuileries, where our escape would very soon be discovered if it had not been already.
Louis took a map and followed the route we were to take. After Bondy, Claye, where we picked up the two ladies who had gone on ahead, and then La Ferte and on to ChalonssurMame.
Chalonssur-Mame! How I longed to be there, for there we should meet the cavalry under the young Due de Choiseui, nephew of my old friend, and outside that town Bouine would be waiting to conduct us to Montmedy—and at Montmedy . safety . and Axel.
How much happier I should have felt if Axel had been driving us now! The Dauphin whimpered that he was hot. It was certainly stifling in the beriine, which laboured painfully up the hills, overloaded as it was. Madame de Tourzel suggested that she get out and walk up the hill with the children, which would lighten the load and give them a little fresh air and the opportunity to stretch their legs.
This seemed a good idea, but the Dauphin wanted to stay in the fields awhile and he ran away and Madame de Tourzel and his sister had to catch him. The sound of his merry shrieks was like a tonic, but the minutes were slip ping by.
In the afternoon we stopped at Petit Chaintxy, the small village near Chaintry, for Axel had wisely said that we should change horses at the smaller rather than the larger places.
At the inn a young man came out to look at the berline. He was talkative, I heard him chatting to the coachman. He had never seen such a magnificent carriage. The occupants must be very rich and important people. His name, he said, was Vallet, Gabriel Vallet, and he was the postmaster’s son-in-law. He was an innkeeper himself, and he often went to Paris.
He passed the window of the coach, I was sure to see what manner of people travelled in such style. And as he looked in at us he knew.
I glanced uneasily at Louis. His wig was the rough wig of the lackey he was supposed to be, but those heavy Bour bon features had been well known in Fra
nce for centuries. Then Vallet’s eyes went to me. Did I look like a governess? I felt the haughty look coming into my face which always seemed now to be there, much as I tried to suppress it when I came into contact with the people.
He moved away and went to the postmaster; I saw them whispering together. Then the postmaster approached the carriage.
He bowed and his words sent shivers through me.
“Your Majesties, this is a great honour. And we shall remember it as long as we live. We are humble but all we have is at your service.”
Louis, who had always been moved by any affection displayed by his subjects, was even more so now. Tears came into his eyes and he said that it made him very happy to be with friends.
The postmaster signed to his wife and children, who all came to the be rime and were presented; then Vallet’s wife came and she too mumbled her awareness of the honour.
“Your Majesties, we nave a goose cooked all ready to be eaten. If you would honour us by eating it we should be deeply honoured.”
Louis was the King immediately. To refuse such an invitation would be churlish. Therefore we must all descend and eat goose with the postmaster. The children were delighted. It was such a pleasure to get out of the stuffy beriine. And it was quite clear that this loyal family were aware that we were escaping from Paris.
When we had eaten and the King explained that it was imperative he must say goodbye although he would have wished to spend more time with such kind, good people, Vallet asked a favour. Could he act as postilion on the beriine as far as ChalonssurMame?
How could the King refuse such an offer of loyal service? We would have an extra passenger, but there was no help for it and so we set off. And to show his zeal, Vallet tried to drive the beriine beyond its capabilities, with the result that two of the horses fell and there was damage to the traces. Repairs took further time, and when we arrived at Chalons we were even further behind the arranged time.
Chalons was a larger town, but the people were more interested in wine-growing than the revolution; the beriine attracted attention but the people shrugged their shoulders. Some rich emigres. There were too many of such people to cause a great deal of comment.
The Queen`s Confession Page 45
