He demanded of himself whether it were a fatal sign that he regretted the loss of Isabel, when she went to spend a few days with her old governess. Miss Longman had left the Conway family in order to take care of the motherless children of a good-for-nothing brother, who had run too deeply into debt to be able to return to England. He was now dead, but she was teaching English, and obtaining advantages of education for her nieces, which detained her at Paris; and as she had a bed to offer her former pupil, Isabel set her heart on spending her last three days in the unrestrained intercourse afforded by a visit to her. Louis found that though their party had lost the most agreeable member, yet it was not the loss of the sun; and that he was quite as ready to tease his aunt and make Virginia laugh, as if Isabel had been looking on with a smile of wonder and commiseration for their nonsense.
CHAPTER XX. THE FANTASTIC VISCOUNT.
Search for a jewel that too casually Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's. Shrew me If I would lose it for a revenue Of any king's in Europe!-Cymbeline.
'My dear Fitzjocelyn, what is to be done? Have you heard? Delaford says these horrid creatures are rising! There was an attack on the Hotel de Ville last night! A thousand people killed, at least!-The National Guard called out!'
'One of the lions of Paris, my dear aunt; Virginia is seeing it in style.'
'Seeing it! We must go at once. They will raise those horrid barricades;-we shall be closed in. And Isabel gone to that governess! I wish I had never consented! How could I come here at all? Fitzjocelyn, what is to be done?'
'Drive round that way, if you are bent on going,' said Louia, coolly. 'Meantime, Virginia, my dear, I will thank you for some coffee.'
'How can you talk of such things?' cried his aunt. 'It is all those savage wretches, mad because the national workshops are closed. Delaford declares they will massacre all the English.'
'Poor wretches, I believe they are starving. I think you are making yourself ill-the most pressing danger. Come, Virginia, persuade your mamma to sit down to breakfast, while I go to reconnoitre. Where are the passports?'
Virginia had lost all terror in excitement, but neither she nor her mother could bear to let him go out, to return they knew not when. The carriage had already been ordered, but Lady Conway was exceedingly frightened at the notion of driving anywhere but direct to the railway station; she was sure that they should encounter something frightful if they went along the Boulevards.
'Could not Delaford go to fetch Isabel?' suggested Virginia, 'he might take a carriage belonging to the hotel.'
Delaford was summoned, and desired to go to fetch Miss Conway, but though he said, 'Yes, my Lady,' he looked yellow and white, and loitered to suggest whether the young lady would not be alarmed.
'I will go with you,' said Louis. 'Order the carriage, and I shall be ready.'
Lady Conway, to whom his presence seemed protection, was almost remonstrating, but he said, 'Delaford is in no state to be of use. He would take bonjour for a challenge. Let me go with him, or he will take care the young lady is alarmed. When we are all together, we can do as may seem best, and I shall be able better to judge whether we are to fight or fly.'
Outside the door he found Delaford, who begged to suggest to his lordship that my Lady would be alarmed if she were left without either of them, he could hardly answer it to himself that she should remain without any male protector.
'Oh yes, pray remain to defend her,' said Louis, much amused, and hastening down-stairs he ordered the carriage to drive to Bue --, off the Boulevard St. Martin.
He thought there were signs boding tempest. Shops were closed, and men in blouses were beginning to assemble in knots-here and there the red-cap loomed ominously in the far end of narrow alleys, and in the wider streets the only passengers either seemed in haste like himself, or else were National Guards hurrying to their alarm-post.
He came safely to Miss Longman's apartments, where he found all on the alert-the governess and her nieces recounting their experiences of February, which convinced them that there was more danger in returning than in remaining. Miss Longman was urgent to keep Isabel and Lord Fitzjocelyn for at least a few hours, which she declared would probably be the duration of any emeute, but they knew this would cause dreadful anxiety, and when Fitzjocelyn proposed returning alone, Isabel insisted on accompanying him, declaring that she had no fears, and that her mother would be miserable if her absence should detain them. Perhaps she was somewhat deceived by the cool, almost ludicrous, light in which he placed the revolution, as a sort of periodical spasm, and Miss Longman's predictions that the railway would be closed, only quickened her preparations.
After receiving many entreaties to return in case of alarm, they took leave, Louis seating himself beside the driver, as well to keep a look-out, as to free Miss Conway from fears of a tete-a-tete. Except for such a charge of ladies, he would have been delighted at the excitement of an emeute; but he was far from guessing how serious a turn affairs were taking.
The dark blue groups were thickening into crowds; muskets and pikes were here and there seen, and once he recognised the sinister red flag. A few distant shots were heard, and the driver would gladly have hastened his speed, but swarms of haggard-looking men began to impede their progress, and strains of 'Mourir pour la patrie' now and then reached their ears.
Close to the Porte St. Denis they were brought to a full stop by a dense throng, above whose heads were seen a line of carriages, the red flag planted on the top. Many hands were seizing the horses' heads, and Louis leapt down, but not before the door had been opened, and voices were exclaiming, 'Descendez citoyenne; au nom de la nation, descendez.' The mob were not uncivil, they made way for Louis, and bade him reassure her that no harm was intended, but the carriage was required for the service of the nation.
Isabel had retreated as far as she could from their hands, but she showed no signs of quailing; her eyes were bright, her colour high, and the hand was firm which she gave to Louis as she stepped out. There was a murmur of admiration, and more than one bow and muttered apology about necessity and the nation, as the crowd beheld the maiden in all her innate nobleness and dignity.
'Which way?' asked Louis, finding that the crowd were willing to let them choose their course.
'Home,' said Isabel, decidedly, 'there is no use in turning back.'
They pressed on past the barricade for which their carriage had been required, a structure of confiscated vehicles, the interstices filled up with earth and paving stones, which men and boys were busily tearing up from the trottoirs, and others carrying to their destination. They were a gaunt, hungry, wolfish-looking race, and the first words that Isabel spoke were words of pity, when they had passed them, and continued their course along the Boulevards, here in desolate tranquillity. 'Poor creatures, they look as if misery made them furious! and yet how civil they were.'
'Were you much alarmed? I wish I could have come to you sooner.'
'Thank you; I knew that you were at hand, and their address was not very terrific, poor things. I do not imagine there was any real danger.'
'I wish I knew whether we are within or without the barricades. If within, we shall have to cross another. We are actually becoming historical!'
He broke off, amazed by Isabel's change of countenance, as she put her hand to the arm he held, hastily withdrew it, and exclaimed, 'My bracelet! oh, my bracelet!' turning round to seek it on the pavement.
'The ivory clasp?' asked Louis, perceiving its absence.
'Oh yes!' she cried, in much distress, 'I would not have lost it for all the world.'
'You may have left it at Miss Longman's.'
'No, no, I was never without it!'
She turned, and made a few retrograde steps, searching on the ground, as if conscious only of her loss, shaking off his hand when he touched her arm to detain her.
A discovery broke on, him. Well that he could bear it!
'Hark!' he said, 'there is cannon firing! Miss Conway, you cannot go back. I
will do my utmost to recover your clasp, but we must not stay here.'
'I had forgotten. I beg your pardon, I did not think!' said Isabel, with a species of rebuked submission, as if impressed by the calmness that gave authority to his manner; and she made no remark as he made her resume his arm, and hurried her on past houses with closed doors and windows.
Suddenly there was the sound of a volley of musketry far behind. 'Heaven help the poor wretches,' said Louis; and Isabel's grasp tightened on his arm.
Again, again-the dropping sound of shot became continual. And now it was in front as well as in the rear; and the booming of cannon resounded from the heart of the city. They were again on the outskirts of a crowd.
'It is as I thought,' said Louis, 'we are between both. There is nothing for it but to push on, and see whether we can cross the barricades; are you afraid to encounter it!'
'No,' said Isabel.
'There is a convent not far off, I think. We might find shelter for you there. Yet they might break in. It might not be easy to meet. I believe you are safer with me. Will you trust in me?'
'I will not have you endanger yourself for me. Dispose of me as you will-in a convent, or anywhere. Your life is precious, your safety is the first thing.'
'You are speaking in irony.'
'I did not mean it: I beg your pardon.' But she coloured and faltered. 'You must distinctly understand that this is only as Englishman to Englishwoman.'
'As Englishman to Englishwoman,' repeated Louis, in her own formula. 'Or rather,' he added, lowering his voice, 'trust me, for the sake of those who gave the clasp.'
He was answered by her involuntary pressure of his arm, and finally, to set her at ease, he said, hurriedly, 'If it went wrong with me, it would be to Lima that I should ask you to send my love.'
There was no time for more. They were again on the freshly-torn ground, whence the pavement had been wrenched. The throng had thickened behind them, and seemed to be involving them in the vortex. Above their heads Louis could see in front between the tall houses, the summit of another barricade complete, surmounted with the red flag, and guarded by a fierce party of ruffians.
All at once, tremendous yells broke out on all sides. The rattle of a drum, now and then, might be distinguished, shouts and shrieks resounded, and there was a sharp fire of musketry from the barricade, and from the adjoining windows; there was a general rush to the front, and Louis could only guard Isabel by pressing her into the recess of the closed doorway of one of the houses, and standing before her, preventing himself from being swept away only by exerting all his English strength against the lean, wild beings who struggled past him, howling and screaming. The defenders sprang upon the barricade, and thrust back and hurled down the National Guards, whose heads were now and then seen as they vainly endeavoured to gain the summit. This desperate struggle lasted for a few minutes, then cries of victory broke out, and there was sharp firing on both sides, which, however, soon ceased; the red flag and the blouses remaining still in possession. Isabel had stood perfectly silent and motionless through the whole crisis, and though she clung to her protector's arm, it was not with nervous disabling terror, even in the frightful tumult of the multitude. There was some other strength with her!
'You are not hurt?' said Louis, as the pressure relaxed.
'Oh no! thank God! You are not?'
'Are you ready? We must make a rush before the next assault.'
A lane opened in the throng to afford passage for the wounded. Isabel shrank back, but Louis drew her on hastily, till they had attained the very foot of the barricade, where a space was kept clear, and there was a cry 'Au large, or we shall fire.'
'Let us pass, citizens,' said Louis, hastily rehearsing the French he had been composing. 'You make not war on women. Let me take this young lady to her mother.'
Grim looks were levelled at them by the fierce black-bearded men, and their mutterings of belle made her cling the closer to her guardian.
'Let her pass, the poor child!' said more than one voice.
'Hein!-they are English, who take the bread out of our mouths.'
'If you were a political economist,' said Louis, gravely, fixing his eyes on the shrewd-looking, sallow speaker, I would prove to you your mistake; but I have no time, and you are too good fellows to wish to keep this lady here, a mark for the Garde Nationale.'
'He is right there,' said several of the council of chiefs, and a poissarde, with brawny arms and a tall white cap, thrusting forward, cried out, 'Let them go, the poor children. What are they doing here? They look fit fo be set up in the church for waxen images!'
'Take care you do not break us,' exclaimed Louis, whose fair cheek had won this tribute; and his smile, and the readiness of his reply, won his admission to the first of the steps up the barricade.
'Halte la!' cried a large-limbed, formidable-looking ruffian on the summit, pointing his musket towards them; 'none passes here who does not bring a stone to raise our barricade for the rights of the Red Republic, and cry, La liberte, l'egalite, et la, fraternite, let it fit his perfidious tongue as it may.'
'There's my answer,' said Louis, raising his right arm, which was dripping; with blood, 'you have made me mount the red flag!'
'Ha!' cried the friendly fishwife, 'Wounded in the cause of the nation! Let him go.'
'He has not uttered the cry!' shouted the rest.
Louis looked round with his cool, pensive smile.
'Liberty!' he said, 'what _we_ mean by liberty is freedom to go where we will, and say what we will. I wish you had it, my poor fellows. Fraternity-it is not shooting our brother. Egalite-I preach that too, but in my own fashion, not yours. Let me pass-si cela vou est egal.'
His nonchalant intrepidity-a quality never lost on the French- raised an acclamation of le brave Anglais. No one stirred a hand to hinder their mounting to the banquette, and several hands were held out to assist in surmounting the parapet of this extempore fortification. Isabel bowed her thanks, and Louis spoke them with gestures of courtesy; and shouts of high applause followed them as they sped along the blood-stained street.
The troops were re-forming after the repulse, and the point was to pass before the attack could be renewed, as well as not to be mistaken for the insurgents.
They were at once challenged, but a short explanation to the officer was sufficient, and they were suffered to turn into the Rue Richelieu, where they were only pursued by the distant sounds of warfare.
'Oh, Lord Fitzjocelyn!' cried Isabel, as he slackened his pace, and gasped for breath.
'You are sure you are not hurt?' he said.
'Oh no, no; but you-'
'It is very little,' he said-'a stray shot-only enough to work on their feelings. What good-natured rogues they were. I will only twist my handkerchief round to stop the blood. Thank you.'
Isabel tried to help him, but she was too much afraid of hurting him to draw the bandage tight.
They dashed on, finding people on the watch for tidings, and meeting bodies of the National Guard, and when at length they reached the Place Vendome, they found the whole establishment watching for them, and Virginia flew to meet them on the stairs, throwing her arms round her sister, while Lady Conway started forward with the agitated joy, and almost anger, of one who felt injured by the fright they had made her suffer.
'There you are! What has kept you! Delaford said they were slaughtering every one on the Boulevards!'
'I warned you of the consequences of taking me,' said Louis, dropping into a chair.
'Mamma! he is all over blood!' screamed Virginia.
Lady Conway recoiled, with a slight shriek.
'It is a trifle,' said Louis;' Isabel is safe. There is all cause for thankfulness. We could never have got through if she had not been every inch a heroine.'
'Oh, Lord Fitzjocelyn, if I could thank you!'
'Don't,' said Louis, with so exactly his peculiar droll look and smile, that all were reassured.
Isabel began to recount their a
dventure.
'In the midst of those horrid wretches! and the firing!' cried Lady Conway. 'My dear, how could you bear it? I should have died of fright!'
'There was no time for fear,' said Isabel, with a sort of scorn; 'I should have been ashamed to be frightened when Lord Fitzjocelyn took it so quietly. I was only afraid lest you should repeat their horrid war-cry. I honour your refusal.'
'Of course one would not in their sense, poor things, and on compulsion,' said Louis, his words coming the slower from the exhaustion which made him philosophize, rather than exert himself. 'In a true sense, it is the war-cry of our life.'
'How can you talk so!' cried Lady Conway. 'Delaford says the ruffians are certain to overpower the Guard. We must go directly. Very likely this delay of yours may prevent us from getting off at all.'
'I will find out whether the way be open,' said Louis, 'when I have-'
His words failed him, for as he rose, the handkerchief slipped off, a gush of blood came with it, and he was so faint that he could hardly reach the sofa.
Lady Conway screamed, Virginia rang the bells, Isabel gave orders that a surgeon should be called.
'Spirits from the vasty deep,' muttered Louis, in the midst of his faintness, 'the surgeons have graver work on hand.'
'For heaven's sake, don't talk so!' cried his aunt, without daring to look at him; 'I know your arm is broken!'
'Broken bones are a very different matter, experto crede. This will be all right when I can stop the bleeding,' and steadying himself with difficulty, he reached the door, and slowly repaired to his own room, while the girls sent Fanshawe and Delaford to his assistance.
Lady Conway, unable to bear the sight of blood, was in a state of nervous sobbing, which Virginia's excited restlessness did not tend to compose; and Isabel walked up and down the room, wishing that she could do anything, looking reproachfully at her mother, and exalting to the skies the courage, presence of mind, and fortitude of the wounded knight.
Dynevor Terrace (Vol. I) Page 31
