Mistress of the Revolution: A Novel

by Delors, Catherine

  “Mama!” she cried. “Charlotte would not tell me why they took you away again. She said only that you would be back. But she would not say when.”

  I kept her embraced a long time. “So you see, my treasure, she was right. We are together again.”

  “I could not sleep last night, Mama. I thought I had lost you forever.”

  “I was not lost. Citizen Pierre-André found me. He saved my life, Aimée. Again.”

  Aimée raised her eyes to Pierre-André. “Thank you, Sir,” she said in a small voice.

  He patted her head. Pélagie had prepared dinner, which Aimée ate sitting on my lap. She clung to me after I put her to bed on a couch in the parlour. Pierre-André was watching us from the door.

  “You must be exhausted too, Gabrielle,” he said. “I am expected at the Common House and will come home late. Do not stay up for me. Go to bed.”

  I started when I recognized my own portrait by Madame Lebrun in his bedroom. The gilded frame, which had borne my name, was missing. I blew out the candles but could not find any sleep. I heard him come home much later, although he was trying not to make any noise. He undressed in the dark. The bed shook under his weight. I huddled in silence against him. Without a word, he took me in his arms, caressed my face and kissed my lips. The French say: Il n’y a pas d’amour, il n’y a que des preuves d’amour. “There is no such thing as love, there are only proofs of love.” I needed no other proof.

  I remained a week, the happiest in my life, in Pierre-André’s lodgings. Aimée and I, of course, could not stir, but we kept busy with her lessons. All of our things had been left behind in Rue de la Colombe, except for the clothes we wore and the precious Margaret. I sent Pélagie, whose speech I was beginning to understand, to buy remnants of fabric and all three of us went to work sewing a new set of clothes for the doll.

  “So she is the servant you mentioned,” I told Pierre-André the following night. “She seems very kind.”

  “She has been with me for over two years now. Shortly after Suzanne’s departure, I was walking home when I saw a band of street urchins throwing stones and rubbish at Pélagie. They ran as soon as they saw me. The little scoundrels always do. I brought her here and stitched a nasty gash on her forehead. To thank me, she cleaned my lodgings while I was in court. It was becoming necessary since I had not had time to hire a new maid. Like most men, I am not neat when left to my own devices. I had intended to keep her until she healed and send her on her way with a few francs in her pocket, but she made me understand that she had nowhere to go. She had been a servant in an inn before being thrown out when her old master died. No one wanted to hire her, and she had been begging for her bread in the streets. So I have kept her.”

  “Can you understand her?”

  “I have become used to her speech. I gave her wages and Suzanne’s room. She has replaced that little minx to my advantage, though I have not invited her to share my bed. She is clean and the perfect maid for a man in my situation. People think she is a half-wit, so Fouquier’s mouchards do not think of using her to spy on me. Speaking of Fouquier, he wasted no time. Your friend Granger is in jail already.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “His case can hardly be a priority these days. He will stew in his prison for a while, until Fouquier either releases him or indicts him as a counterrevolutionary conspirator. But if you want your revenge, I can ask Fouquier to schedule him for trial immediately.”

  “No, I do not wish Granger any harm. What about Charlotte? Will she be in trouble?”

  “I spoke to Payan. His brother supervises of all the theatres for the Municipality. The Marais will be closed until they find a replacement for Granger, but it will reopen in a few days. Charlotte will be fine. Payan knows that I do not want her harassed. The rest of the personnel was investigated, though, and a ci-devant Marquis de Lacoste, allegedly the prompter, was arrested.”

  “But he is a patriot and an ardent Republican. Before the Revolution, he spent years in jail under a lettre de cachet requested by his mother-in-law.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “He did not tell me.”

  “No wonder. He disgraced his wife’s sister, who was fifteen, and eloped with her to Italy. That may explain his mother-in-law’s animosity. The morals of the aristocracy never fail to appall me.”

  “I am still sorry that he was arrested because of me.”

  “I, for one, will not shed any tears over the fate of that lecherous old goat. And you must understand that your whims, like that notion of working at the Théâtre du Marais, have serious consequences. Not only for yourself, but also for others, including me.”

  “Are you in trouble because of me?”

  “I will try to stay clear of it.”

  Two days later, Pierre-André returned home with news.

  “First,” he said, “you must be impatient to go out. I found you new lodgings on Rue du Bourg-Tibourg, to the north of the Common House. The location is convenient, and you will have an additional bedroom for Aimée.”

  “Thank you. Still, I will be sorry to leave this place. I am very happy here.”

  “And I was happy to come home to you every night. Yet it is too dangerous for both of us, you know it. As for tonight, we have to go out together.”

  “Are you not afraid of being seen with me?”

  “Not by the man we are going to visit. I already told him of your existence.”

  I paused. “Who is it?”

  “Robespierre.”

  “Why did you tell him?”

  “I had no choice, Gabrielle.”

  “Yes, you had a choice. Fouquier had not said anything.”

  “I had no intention of spending the rest of my life wondering whether he would change his mind. That would have given him more power over me than I am willing to grant him.”

  “Remember Osselin. Remember how he paid for the same kind of indiscretion.”

  “Osselin hid everything from Robespierre. I will not make the same mistake, especially now that Fouquier knows about you. In fact, I should have told Robespierre from the start.”

  “Why does he want to see me?”

  “He wishes to make sure that I am not taking advantage of your circumstances.” Pierre-André shrugged. “Other men seem to think, because I am no classic beauty, that any female found in my bed has been forcibly dragged there.”

  “Do you mean that Robespierre has time to worry whether a former aristocrat is coerced into a situation she does not like?”

  “He is a man of the utmost delicacy of feelings. And seeing what kind of woman you are will help him determine what kind of man I am. You have nothing to fear. He assured me that he wishes only to speak to you outside my presence.”

  I looked at Pierre-André in horror. “You will leave me alone with him?”

  “What do you imagine he will do to you? He will meet with you in the Duplays’ dining parlour to avoid giving you any uneasiness. He usually receives his visitors in his bedroom, but he does not deem it proper with a woman.”

  “What if I am at a loss for what to say?”

  Pierre-André grinned. “That would be the first time, my love. You will do fine. In any event, I have no choice now. Neither do you.”

  “What did you tell him about us?”

  “Everything.” He handed me my mantle and pushed me firmly by the shoulder. “Come, Gabrielle, we are going to be late.”

  During the hackney ride, I thought of what the impending meeting with Robespierre would entail. Pierre-André had risked everything to save me. Now his career, his freedom, even his life depended on a few sentences I would exchange with a stranger. I had no idea of what might doom him in Robespierre’s eyes. Never before had my words carried such weight. I rested my head against Pierre-André’s chest. He patted my back in silence.

  We stopped in front of the Duplay house, where Robespierre rented a room. Darkness had fallen. We passed through a doorway between two shops and crossed a small cour
tyard. Pierre-André rang the bell. The door opened so fast that we must have been expected. The figure of a woman was outlined against the yellow light of the hallway. Once inside, I saw that she was about my age and brown-haired. She looked at me with rather unfriendly curiosity.

  “You know where to go, Citizen Coffinhal,” she said before disappearing.

  I felt panic rise in me. I had bravely faced Hébert at La Force and Fouquier at the Courthouse, but only my own life had been at stake then. Now I was frozen with terror. Pierre-André seized my wrist and pulled me up a flight of stairs before opening a door on the second floor. We found ourselves in a comfortable dining parlour. My eyes closed, I gripped his hand. I heard the door open.

  “What is the matter?” asked a quiet voice.

  I opened my eyes and recognized the slight man with delicate features whose speeches I had followed at the National Assembly a few years earlier. A mongrel looked up at me from behind him.

  “She is afraid of you,” said Pierre-André. He was addressing Robespierre in the familiar mode.

  “Of me?”

  “I would not say it otherwise. I explained to her that you wish to meet her, but as you can see, the feeling is not mutual. Come, Gabrielle, this is not like you.” Pierre-André disengaged himself from my grasp. “I will be waiting for you. Be brave, my love.”

  My eyes followed him until he closed the door.

  “Would you like to have a seat, Madam?” asked Robespierre.

  He pulled a chair for me. It had been some time since anyone had addressed me formally, and still longer since I had been called Madam except by Fouquier, who had done so only to mock me. Robespierre, on the contrary, was watching me seriously. Reassured by the presence of the dog, I held out my hand to him. Wagging his tail, the animal briefly sniffed my fingers. My composure returned.

  “I did not expect to cause you such uneasiness,” said Robespierre, who also took a seat.

  “I am not afraid on my own account, Sir. Do you mean Pierre-André any harm because of me?”

  “There are very few men I call my friends, Madam, and those I want to be able to trust beyond any doubt. I had always believed Coffinhal to be one of them. Yet when he told me that he had been hiding an aristocrat for over a year, I realized that I did not know him as well as I thought.”

  “No one can entirely know another,” I said. “Yet you may be assured that he is entirely loyal to you.”

  “Now that he made what he tells me is a full confession, I want to know whether he has told me the truth.”

  “I am sure that he has. He respects you too much to fail to tell you anything of significance.”

  “So what is of significance in this affair?”

  “I can only speak from my standpoint, which may be different from yours or his. I am a former noblewoman, Sir. Yet I am no conspirator, nor do I entertain any relations with the émigrés. Pierre-André would not have anything to do with me otherwise. I cannot say why he has taken such risks for me. We met in Auvergne when I was fifteen. We fell in love then and wanted to marry. My family would not hear of it and forced me to wed another man. I was widowed before the Revolution. In spite of everything, when I sought Pierre-André’s assistance after the September massacres, he helped me. He did not need me. He did not even want to see me at first. He did not force me to do anything.” I looked into Robespierre’s eyes. “I could not bear the thought of any harm coming to him by my fault. Even the loss of your trust and friendship would be a terrible blow to him. I beg you not to withdraw either. If anyone is to be punished, let it be me and me alone.”

  Robespierre was petting the mongrel’s head. “So you take upon yourself the entire blame for this business.” The animal closed his eyes.

  “I do. I took advantage of the feelings Pierre-André had retained for me. The only fault which can be laid at his door is weakness.”

  “He too blamed himself for what happened.”

  “I am not surprised, but I am sure that you will not be fooled by it. None of this would have happened if I had not sought him.”

  “He says that you have a little girl.”

  “Yes, by my late husband.”

  “He begged me to spare you for her sake.”

  “Again I am not surprised. Yet I have not done anything to deserve his kindness.”

  Robespierre rose. “Well, Madam, I have heard enough. I will let you go back to him.”

  He opened the door to the dining parlour. “You may take Madam home,” he told Pierre-André.

  Before I knew it, I was back in a hackney.

  “Does this mean he has forgiven you?” I asked Pierre-André.

  “It seems so, although I will know more tomorrow. He must have liked you.” He laughed and bent to kiss my cheek. “Who could resist you?”

  Before taking me to my new lodgings, Pierre-André provided me with a residence certificate in the name of Jeanne-Françoise Dunoyer, which had been his mother’s maiden name. He also gave me a duplicate key to his own lodgings and showed me a cache in the floor of his bedroom, where he kept rolls of gold coins and a portfolio full of assignats.

  “You never know what may happen,” he said. “Do not hesitate to come here in case of an emergency.”

  85

  LANGTON COURT, THIS 12TH OF JUNE 1815

  I hold in the palm of my hand a man’s gold watch, engraved with the initials P. A. C. and the motto Vivre libre ou mourir, “Liberty or death.” It stopped at twenty past eleven on a rainy summer day over twenty years ago. I have never rewound it. I am also looking at the fine black and white antique cameo you have always seen on my right hand. This ring I will keep till my last breath, but the watch should go to you. I will find a way to give it to you in the course of this day. Oh, Edmond, I have now reached the part of my narrative I do not want to write. Those who say that time dulls the pain of bereavement know nothing of sorrow. I had the maids light a great fire in spite of the season, but no matter how close I stay to it, I am shivering. Tears blind me. Yet for your sake I must find the courage to continue. God, as always, will lend me strength.

  I settled in my new lodgings on Rue du Bourg-Tibourg, which were more spacious and better appointed than the previous ones. Pierre-André, as promised, now visited me every night. After the disaster at the Théâtre du Marais, it was out of the question for me to seek another place. Aimée and I resumed our daily walks to the Luxembourg. The following weeks saw the eradication of potatoes and the reappearance of flowers and lawns.

  “It’s the same thing in all public gardens now that Chaumette and Hébert are gone,” said our friend the guard. “And there’s no more talk of cutting the trees. Citizen Payan’s in charge now. You should see what they’re doing at the Tuileries. It’s beautiful. That’s where they’ll celebrate the Festival of the Supreme Being.”

  On a beautiful spring day, Robespierre led a procession of all the members of the National Convention to solemnly set fire to a colossal cardboard allegory of Atheism. The same morning, a declaration stating that “the French people recognize the Supreme Being and the immortality of the soul” had been posted all over town. The entire choir of the Opera, eight hundred strong, sang hymns to the glory of the Supreme Being. Tens of thousands of Parisians watched Atheism go up in flames. I decided not to join the crowd and was content to hear the account of the festivities given by Pierre-André, who attended as part of his official functions.

  Two days later, Couthon, Robespierre’s most trusted ally within the Committee of Public Salvation, introduced before the National Convention what would become known as the Law of the 22nd of Prairial. That bill completely reformed the procedure followed before the Revolutionary Tribunal. Indeed it became much harsher. Dumas and Pierre-André were again appointed by the National Convention to preside over the two sections of the Tribunal. That time would be known as the Grande Terreur, the “Great Terreur.” For the first time the Tribunal would sentence more defendants to death than it acquitted.

  Madame Elisab
eth followed her brother and sister-in-law, the King and Queen, to the guillotine. She was tried before Dumas for sending her diamonds to her brothers in exile to support the armies of the émigrés. Pierre-André told me that Robespierre had attempted to save her, but that influential members of the Committee of General Safety, in charge of the police, had insisted on the execution of all adult members of the Bourbon family.

  A few weeks later, Pierre-André handed me a sheet of paper.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A passport for a Jeanne-Françoise Dunoyer, widow, and her daughter. It is authentic. Those are the actual signatures of two members of the Committee of General Safety. You have nothing to fear by using it.”

  I stared at the document. “What do you want me to do with it?”

  “It might save your life if you had to leave Paris.”

  I shook my head. “Thank you, but I will not leave. Not without you.”

  “You know that my functions require my presence here.”

  “What are you hiding from me? Do you want us to be separated?”

  He put his arm around my shoulders. “Of course not, my love,” he said, “but one thing matters more to me than your company. It is your safety.”

  “Have you reason to think that I am not safe in Paris?”

  “Strange things have been happening.”

  “What strange things? The Royalists have been defeated in Vendée. The armies of the Republic are victorious in the Netherlands. The Austrians have been routed.”

  “Thanks to the Tribunal. There is nothing like the fear of the guillotine to refresh the zeal of those generals and remind them of the expediency of winning battles. The same is true of army contractors. We keep them honest.” He paused, staring in front of him. “But Paris is restless. I know this town, Gabrielle, I can feel its pulse. For one thing, the situation is out of control at the Tribunal. Since the Law of the 22nd of Prairial, defense attorneys are no longer required. Defendants can now be convicted upon the basis of written evidence without witnesses being heard. Moreover, the questioning of the accused by a judge before trial, which led to many dismissals, has been eliminated. This means that all cases come to trial. And we lost our discretion in sentencing: we must send to the guillotine any defendant found guilty by the jury. We would need ten times as many judges, clerks and jurors to handle the caseload these days.”