In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a Westminster Boy

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER V

  The Outburst

  "Monsieur le Marquis," M. du Tillet exclaimed, hurrying into thesalon, in which the marquis with his family were sitting, on theevening of the 21st of August, "I hear that it is rumoured in thestreet that all the members of noble families are to be arrested."

  The room was lit up as if to receive company, but the crowd whichhad thronged it a fortnight before were gone. The Girondists hadfirst withdrawn, then the nobles had begun to fall off, for it hadbecome dangerous for them to show themselves in the streets, wherethey were liable to be insulted and attacked by the mob. Moreover,any meeting of known Royalists was regarded with suspicion by theauthorities, and so gradually the gatherings had become smallerand smaller.

  The only constant visitor now was the Count de Gisons, but heto-night was absent. The news was not unexpected. The violence ofthe extremists of the Mountain had been increasing daily. At theCordeliers and Jacobin Clubs, Danton, Robespierre, and Marat hadthundered nightly their denunciations against the aristocrats, andit was certain that at any moment the order for their arrest mightbe given. Such bad news had been received of the state of feelingin the provinces, that it was felt that it would be more dangerousto send the young ones away than to retain them in Paris, and themarquise had been a prey to the liveliest anxiety respecting herchildren. It seemed impossible that there could be any animosityagainst them, but the blind rage of the mob had risen to such aheight that it was impossible to say what might happen. Now thatshe heard the blow was about to fall she drew her younger girlsinstinctively to her, as if to protect them, but no word passedher lips.

  "It might still be possible to fly," M. du Tillet went on. "We haveall the disguises in readiness."

  "A Marquis de St. Caux does not fly from the canaille of Paris,"the marquis said quietly. "No, Du Tillet; the king and queen arein prison, and it is not for their friends to leave their post herein Paris because danger threatens them; come when they may, thesewretches will find us here ready for them."

  "But the children, Edouard!" the marquise murmured.

  "I shall stand by my father's side," Ernest said firmly.

  "I do not doubt your courage, my son. I wish now that I had longago sent you all across the frontier; but who could have foreseenthat the people of France were about to become a horde of wildbeasts, animated by hate against all, old and young, in whose veinsran noble blood. However, although it is the duty of your motherand I to stay at our posts, it is our duty also to try and saveour house from destruction; therefore, Du Tillet, I commit my twosons to your charge. Save them if you can, disguise them as you will,and make for the frontier. Once there you know all the arrangementswe have already made."

  "But, father," Ernest remonstrated.

  "I can listen to no argument, Ernest," the marquis said firmly."In this respect my will is law. I know what your feelings are,but you must set them aside, they must give way to the necessityof saving one of the oldest families of France from perishing."

  "And the girls?" the marquise asked, as Ernest bent his head insign of obedience to his father's orders.

  "I cannot think," the marquis said, "that they will be included inthe order for our arrest. They must go, as arranged, in the morningto the house of our old servant and remain quietly there awaitingthe course of events. They will pass very well as three of hernieces who have arrived from the country. You had better send atrusty servant to prepare her for their coming. You, Harry, will,of course, accompany my sons.

  "Pardon, marquis," Harry said quietly, "I am firmly resolved tostay in Paris. I may be of assistance to your daughters, and therewill be no danger to me in remaining, for I have no noble blood inmy veins. Besides, my travelling with M. du Tillet would add tohis danger. He will have difficulty enough in traversing the countrywith two boys; a third would add to that difficulty."

  "I cannot help that," the marquis said. "I ought long ago to havesent you home, and feel that I have acted wrongly in allowing youto remain so long. I must insist upon your accompanying my sons."

  "I am sorry to disobey you, monsieur le marquis," Harry said quietlybut firmly; "but from the moment of your arrest I shall be my ownmaster and can dispose of my actions. I am deeply sensible of allyour goodness to me, but I cannot yield, for I feel that I may beof some slight use here. There are so many strangers in Paris thatthere is little fear of my attracting any notice. A mouse may helpa lion, monsieur, and it may be that though but a boy I may be ableto be of service to mesdemoiselles."

  "Do not urge him further, Edouard," the marquise said, laying ahand on her husband's arm as he was again about to speak. "Harryis brave and thoughtful beyond his years, and it will be somewhatof a comfort to me to think that there is some one watching overour girls. I thank you, Harry, for your offer, and feel sure thatyou will do all that can possibly be done to protect my girls. Youwill be freer to do so than any of our friends, for they are likelyto become involved in our fate, whatever that may be. Marie, youwill view our English friend as joint guardian with yourself overyour sisters. Consult him should difficulty or danger arise as ifhe were your brother, and be guided by his advice. And now, girls,come with me to my room, I have much to say to you.

  "I am glad my wife decided as she did, Harry," the marquis said,putting his hand on his shoulder when his wife and daughters leftthe room, "for I too shall feel comfort in knowing that you arewatching over the girls. Now leave us, for I have much to arrangewith Monsieur du Tillet."

  After a prolonged talk with M. du Tillet the marquis sent forErnest. As soon as he entered the lad said:

  "Of course, sir, I shall obey your commands; but it seems to me anunworthy part for your son to play, to be flying the country andleaving a stranger here to look after your daughters."

  "He is hardly a stranger, Ernest," the marquis replied. "He has beenwith us as one of the family for two years, and he risked his lifefor your sisters. You could not stay here without extreme risk, forif your name is not already included in the warrant for arrest itspeedily will be so, and when they once taste blood these wolveswill hunt down every one of us. He, on the other hand, might proceedopenly through the streets without danger; nevertheless, I wouldnot have kept him if he would have gone; but I have no powerof controlling him, and as he chooses to devote himself to us Ithankfully accept his devotion.

  "And now, my son, it may be that after our parting to-morrow weshall not meet again, for God alone knows what fate is in store forus. I have, therefore, some serious advice to give you. If anythinghappens to me, you will, I know, never forget that you are thehead of the family, and that the honour of a great name is in yourkeeping; but do not try to strive against the inevitable. Adaptyourself to the new circumstances under which you will be placed,and lay aside that pride which has had much to do with the misfortuneswhich are now befalling us.

  "As to your sisters, Marie is already provided for, that is ifDe Gisons is not included in the order for arrest. I have alreadysent off a message to him to warn him; and as it has already beenarranged between us that while his father will stay and face whateverwill come, it is his duty, like yours, to escape the danger whichthreatens our class, I trust that he will at once endeavour toleave the country; but I imagine that he will stop in Paris untilsome means are devised for getting your sisters away.

  "As to the others, if you all reach England and settle down theredo not keep up the class distinctions which have prevailed here.Marry your sisters to men who will protect and make them happy.That these must be gentlemen goes without saying; but that issufficient. For example, if in future time a gentleman of the rankof our English friend here, of whose character you can entirelyapprove, asks for the hand of either of your younger sisters, donot refuse it. Remember that such a suit would have the cordialapproval of your mother and myself."

  A look of great surprise passed over Ernest's face. It had seemedto him so much a matter of course that the ladies of his house shouldmarry into noble families that the idea of one of them being givento a gent
leman belonging to the professional class was surprisingindeed.

  "Do you really mean, sir, that if my friend Harry were some day toask for Jeanne's hand you would approve of the match?"

  "That is exactly what I do mean, Ernest. In the stormy times inwhich we are living I could wish no better protector for her. Werehe a Frenchman, in the same position of life, I own that I mightview the matter in a different light; but, as I have said, inEngland the distinction of classes is much less marked than here;and, moreover, in England there is little fear of such an outbreakof democracy as that which is destroying France."

  A few minutes later Monsieur du Tillet entered with the clothes whichhad been prepared for the boys. They were such as would be worn bythe sons of workmen; he himself was attired in a blue blouse andtrousers. Jules was aroused from the couch on which he had for thelast hour been asleep, and he and Ernest retired to dress themselvesin their new costume, M. du Tillet accompanying them to assist intheir toilet. Both boys had the greatest repugnance to the change,and objected still further when M. du Tillet insisted it wasabsolutely necessary that they should cut their hair and smeartheir faces and hands with dirt.

  "My dear Monsieur Ernest," he said, "it would be worse than uselessfor you to assume that attire unless at the same time you assumedthe bearing and manners appropriate to it. In your own dress wemight for a short time walk the street without observation; but ifyou sallied out in that blouse with your white hands and your headthrown back, and a look of disdain and disgust on your face, thefirst gamin who met you would cry out, 'There is an aristocrat indisguise!'

  "You must behave as if you were acting in a comedy. You arerepresenting a lad of the lower orders. You must try to imitatehis walk and manner. Shove your hands deep in your pockets, shuffleyour feet along carelessly; let your head roll about as if it wereuneasy on your neck, round your shoulders, and slouch your headforward. As to you Jules, your role should be impertinence. Putyour cap on the wrong way; hold your nose in the air; pull yourshort hair down over your forehead, and let some of it spurtout through that hole in your cap. To be quite correct, you oughtto address jeering remarks to every respectable man and woman youmeet in the streets; but as you know nothing of Parisian slang,you must hold your tongue. See how thoroughly I have got myselfup. You would take me for an idle out-of-elbows workman whereveryou met me. I do not like it; but, as I have to disguise myself,I try to do it thoroughly."

  It was, however, with a feeling of humiliation that the boys presentedthemselves before the marquis. He looked at them scrutinizingly.

  "You will do, my boys," he said gravely. "I should have passedyou in the street without knowing you. Now come in with me and saygood-bye to your mother and sisters. The sooner you are out of thishouse the better, for there is no saying at what hour the agentsof the canaille may present themselves."

  The parting was a sad one indeed, but it was over at last, andMonsieur du Tillet hurried the two boys away as soon as their fatherreturned with them.

  "God bless you, du Tillet!" the marquis said as he embraced hisfriend. "Should aught happen to us, you will, I know, be a fatherto them."

  "Now, Harry," the marquis said when he had mastered the emotioncaused by the parting, which he felt might be a final one, "sinceyou have chosen to throw in your lot with ours, I will give you afew instructions. In the first place, I have hidden under a plankbeneath my bed a bag containing a thousand crowns. It is the middleplank. Count an even number from each leg and the centre one coversthe bag.

  "You will find the plank is loose and that you can raise it easilywith a knife; but wax has been run in, and dust swept over it, sothat there is no fear of its being noticed by any who may pillagethe house, which they will doubtless do after we are arrested. Ihave already sent an equal sum to Louise Moulin. Here is her address;but it is possible that you may need money, and may be unable tocommunicate with my daughters at her house; at any rate do you keepthe bag of money in your charge.

  "You had best attire yourself at once in the oldest suit of clothesyou have got. My daughters will be ready in a few minutes. They arealready dressed, so that they can slip out at the back entrance.Should we be disturbed before morning I shall place them under yourescort; for although I hope that all the servants are faithful, onecan answer for no one in these times. I would send them off now,but that the sight of females moving through the streets at thistime of night would be likely to attract attention on the part ofdrunken men, or of fellows returning from these rascally clubs,which are the centre and focus of all the mischief that is goingon.

  "I can give you no further advice. You must be guided bycircumstances. If, as I trust, the girls can live undisturbed andunsuspected with their mother's old nurse, it were best that theyshould remain there until the troubles are finally over, and Francecomes to her senses again. If not, I must leave it to you to act forthe best. It is a great trust to place in the hands of a youth ofyour age; but it is your own choosing, and we have every confidencein you.

  "I will do my best to deserve it, sir," Harry said quietly; "but Itrust that you and madame la marquise will soon be able to resumeyour guardianship. I cannot believe that although just at presentthe populace are excited to fury by agitators, they can in coldblood intend to wreak their vengeance upon all the classes abovethem."

  "I hope you may be right," the marquis said; "but I fear that itis not so. The people are mad so far. All that has been done hasin no way mitigated their sufferings, and they gladly follow thepreachings of the arch scoundrels of the Jacobin Club. I fear thatbefore all this is over France will be deluged with blood. Andnow, when you have changed your clothes, lie down, ready to riseat a moment's notice. Should you hear a tumult, run at once tothe long gallery. There my daughters will join you prepared forflight. Lead them instantly to the back entrance, avoiding, ifpossible, any observation from the domestics. As these sleep onthe floor above, and know nothing of the dangers which threaten us,they will not awake so quickly, and I trust that you will be ableto get out without being seen by any of them. In that case, howeverclosely questioned no one will be able to afford a clue by whichyou can be traced."

  When he had changed his clothes Harry extinguished all the lights inthe salon, for the marquis had long before ordered all the servantsto retire to rest. Then he opened the window looking into the streetand took his place close to it. Sleep under the circumstances wasimpossible.

  As the hours passed he thought over the events of the last fewdays. He was fully aware that the task he had undertaken might befull of danger; but to a healthy and active English lad a spice ofdanger is by no means a deterrent. He could, of course, have lefthis employment before the family left their chateau; but afterhis arrival in Paris it would have been difficult for him to havetraversed the country and crossed the frontier, and he thought thatthe danger which he now ran was not much greater than would havebeen entailed by such a step.

  In the next place he was greatly attached to the family of themarquis; and the orgies of the mob had filled him with such horrorand disgust that he would have risked much to save any unfortunate, evena stranger, from their hands; and lastly, he felt the fascinationof the wild excitement of the times, and congratulated himselfthat he should see and perhaps be an actor in the astonishing dramawhich was occupying the attention of the whole civilized world.

  As he sat there he arranged his own plans. After seeing his chargein safety he would take a room in some quiet locality, allegingthat he was the clerk of a notary, and would, in the dress of oneof that class, or the attire of one of the lower orders, pass hisdays in the streets, gathering every rumour and watching the courseof events.

  Morning was just breaking when he heard the sound of many feetcoming along the street, and looking out saw a crowd of men withtorches, headed by two whose red scarfs showed them to be officials.As they reached the entrance gate the men at the head of theprocession stopped. Harry at once darted away to the long gallery,and as he did so, heard a loud knocking at the door.

  S
carcely had he reached the gallery when a door at the further endopened, and three figures, the tallest carrying a lamp, appeared.The girls, too, had been keeping watch with their father andmother. They were dressed in the attire of respectable peasantgirls. Virginie was weeping loudly, but the elder girls, althoughtheir cheeks bore traces of many tears they had shed during thenight, restrained them now. When they reached Harry, the lad,without a word, took the lamp from Marie's hand, and led the wayalong the corridor and down the stairs towards the back of thehouse.

  Everything was quiet. The knocking, loud as it was, had not yetaroused the servants, and, drawing the bolt quietly, and blowingout the lamp, Harry led the way into the garden behind the house.Then for a moment he paused. There was a sound of axes hewing downthe gate which led from the garden into the street behind.

  "Quick, mesdemoiselles!" he said. "There is no time to lose."

  He took they key out of the door, and closed and locked it afterhim. Then throwing the key among the shrubs he took Virginie's hand,and led the way rapidly towards the gate, which was fortunately astrong one.

  "In here, mesdemoiselles," he said to Marie, pointing to some shrubsclose to the gate. "They will rush straight to the house when thegate gives way, and we will slip out quietly."

  For nearly five minutes the gate, which was strongly bound with iron,resisted the attack upon it. Then there was a crash, and a numberof men with torches, and armed with muskets and pikes, poured in.Virginie was clinging to Marie, who, whispering to her to be calmand brave, pressed the child closely to her, while Jeanne stoodquiet and still by the side of Harry, looking through the bushes.

  Some twenty men entered, and a minute later there was the sound ofbattering at the door through which the fugitives had sallied out.

  "Now," Harry said, "let us be going." Emerging from the shelter, afew steps took them to the gate, and stepping over the door, whichlay prostrate on the ground, they turned into the lane.

  "Let us run," Harry said; "we must get out of this lane as soon aspossible. We are sure to have the mob here before long, and shouldcertainly be questioned."

  They hurried down the lane, took the first turning away from thehouse, and then slackened their pace. Presently they heard a numberof footsteps clattering on the pavement; but fortunately theyreached another turning before the party came up. They turned downand stood up in a doorway till the footsteps had passed, and thenresumed their way.

  "It is still too early for us to walk through the streets withoutexciting attention," Harry said. "We had better make down to theriver and wait there till the town is quite astir."

  In ten minutes they reached the river, and Harry found a seat forthem at the foot of a pile of timber, where they were partiallyscreened from observation. Hitherto the girls had not spoken aword since they had issued from the house. Virginie was dazed andfrightened by the events of the night, and had hurried along almostmechanically holding Marie's hand. Marie's brain was too full totalk; her thoughts were with her father and mother and with herabsent lover. She wondered that he had not come to her in spite ofeverything. Perhaps he was already a captive; perhaps, in obedienceto his father's orders, he was in hiding, waiting events. Thathe could, even had his father commanded him, have left Paris as afugitive without coming to see her, did not even occur to her aspossible.

  With these thoughts there was mingled a vague wonder at her ownposition. A few weeks since petted and cared for as the eldestdaughter of one of the noblest families of France, now a fugitivein the streets under the sole care of this English boy. She had,the evening before, silently sided with Ernest. It had seemed toher wrong that he should be sent away, and the assertion of Harrythat he intended to stay and watch over her and her sisters seemedat once absurd and presumptuous; but she already felt that she hadbeen wrong in that opinion.

  The decision and coolness with which he had at once taken thecommand from the moment he met them in the gallery, and the quicknesswith which he had seized the only mode of escape, had surprisedand dominated her. Her own impulse, when on opening the door sheheard the attack that was being made on the gate, was to draw backinstantly and return to the side of her parents, and it was due toHarry only that she and her sisters had got safely away.

  Hitherto, although after the incident of the mad dog she had exchangedher former attitude of absolute indifference to one of cordialityand friendliness, she had regarded him as a boy. Indeed she hadtreated and considered him as being very much younger than Ernest,and in some respects she had been justified in doing so, for inhis light-hearted fun, his love of active exercise, and his entireabsence of any assumption of age, he was far more boyish thanErnest. But although her thoughts were too busy now to permit herto analyse her feelings, she knew that she had been mistaken, andfelt a strange confidence in this lad who had so promptly and coollyassumed the entire command of the party, and had piloted them withsuch steady nerve through the danger.

  As for Jeanne, she felt no surprise and but little alarm. Herconfidence in her protector was unbounded. Prompt and cool as hewas himself, she was ready on the instant to obey his orders, andfelt a certain sensation of pride at the manner in which her previousconfidence in him was being justified.

  After placing the girls in their shelter Harry had left them andstood leaning against the parapet of the quay as if carelesslywatching the water, but maintaining a vigilant look-out againstthe approach of danger. The number of passers-by increased rapidly.The washerwomen came down to the boats moored in the stream andbegan their operation of banging the linen with wooden beaters.Market-women came along with baskets, the hum and stir of lifeeverywhere commenced, and Paris was fairly awake.

  Seeing that it was safe now to proceed, Harry returned to hiscompanions. He had scarcely glanced at them before, and now lookedapprovingly at their disguises, to which the marquise had, duringthe long hours of the night, devoted the most zealous attention.Marie had been made to look much older than she was. A few darklines carefully traced on her forehead, at the corners of her eyesand mouth, had added many years to her appearance, and she couldhave passed, except to the closest observer, as the mother ofVirginie, whose dress was calculated to make her look even youngerthan she was. The hands and faces of all three had been slightlytinged with brown to give them a sun-burnt aspect in accordancewith their peasant dresses, and so complete was the transformationthat Harry could scarcely suppress a start of surprise as he lookedat the group.

  "It would be safe now, mademoiselle," he said to Marie, "for us toproceed. There are plenty of people about in the streets; but asthe news has, no doubt, already been spread that the daughters ofthe Marquis de St. Caux had left the house before those chargedwith their father's arrest arrived, it will be better for you notto keep together. I would suggest that you should walk on withVirginie. I will follow with Jeanne a hundred yards behind, sothat I can keep you in sight, and will come up if anyone shouldaccost you."

  Marie at once rose, and taking the child's hand set out. They hadto traverse the greater part of Paris to reach their destination.It was a trial for Marie, who had never before been in the streetsof Paris except with her mother and closely followed by two domestics,and even then only through the quiet streets of a fashionablequarter. However, she went steadily forward, tightly holdingVirginie's hand and trying to walk as if accustomed to them in thethick heavy shoes which felt so strangely different to those whichshe was in the habit of wearing.

  From time to time she addressed an encouraging word to Virginieas she felt her shrink as they approached groups of men loungingoutside the wine-shops, for there was but little work done in Paris,and the men of the lower class spent their time in idleness, indiscussions of the events of the day, or in joining the mobs which,under one pretext or another, kept the streets in an uproar.

  Fortunately Marie knew the way perfectly and there was no occasionfor her to ask for directions, for she had frequently driven withher mother to visit Louise Moulin. The latter occupied the upperfloor of a house in a quiet quart
er near the fortifications in thenorth-western part of the town. A message had been sent to her thenight before, and she was on the look-out for her visitors, butshe did not recognize them, and she uttered a cry of surprise asMarie and Virginie entered the room.

  "Is it you, mademoiselle?" she exclaimed in great surprise. "Andyou, my little angel? My eyes must be getting old, indeed, that Idid not recognize you; but you are finely disguised. But where isMademoiselle Jeanne?"

  "She will be here in a moment, Louise; she is just behind. But youmust not call me mademoiselle; you must remember that we are yournieces Marie and Jeanne, and that you are our aunt Louise Moulin,whom we have come to stay with."

  "I shall remember in time," the old woman said. "I have beentalking about you to my neighbours for the last week, of how yourgood father and mother have died, and how you were going to journeyto Paris under the charge of a neighbour, who was bringing a waggonload of wine from Burgundy, and how you were going to look afterme and help me in the house since I am getting old and infirm, andthe young ones were to stop with me till they were old enough togo out to service. Ah, here is Mademoiselle Jeanne!"

  "Here is Jeanne," Marie corrected; "thank God we have all got heresafely. This, Louise, is a young English gentleman who is going toremain in Paris at present, and to whom we are indebted for havinggot us safely here."

  "And your mother," Louise Moulin exclaimed, "the darling lambI nursed, what of her and your father? I fear, from the message Igot last night, that some danger threatens them."

  "They have, I fear, been arrested by the sans culottes," Marie saidmournfully as she burst into tears, feeling, now that the strainwas over, the natural reaction after her efforts to be calm. Forher mother's sake she had held up to the last, and had tried tomake the parting as easy as possible.

  "The wretches!" the old woman said, stamping her foot. "Old as I amI feel that I could tear them to pieces. But there I am chatteringaway, and you must be faint with hunger. I have a nice soup readyon the fire, a plate of that will do good to you all. And you too,monsieur, you will join us, I hope?"

  Harry was nothing loth, for his appetite was always a healthy one.When he had finished he said:

  "Madame Moulin, I have been thinking that it would be an advantageif you would take a lodging for me. If you would say that a youthwhose friends are known to you has arrived from Dijon, to make hisway in Paris, and they have asked you to seek a lodging for him;it will seem less strange than if I went by myself. I should likeit to be near, so that you can come to me quickly should anythingout of the way occur. I should like to look in sometimes to see thatall is well. You could mention to your neighbours that I travelledup with the same waggon with your nieces.

  "I will do that willingly," the old woman said; "but first, my dears,you must have some rest; come in here." And she led the way to thenext room. "There is a bed for you, Mademoiselle Marie, and one forthe two young ones. The room is not like what you are accustomedto, but I dared not buy finer things, though I had plenty of moneyfrom your mother to have furnished the rooms like a palace; but yousee it would have seemed strange to my neighbours; but, at least,everything is clean and sweet."

  Leaving the girls, who were worn out with weariness and anxiety,to sleep, she rejoined Harry.

  "Now, monsieur, I will do your business. It is a comfort to me tofeel that some one will be near of whom I can ask advice, for it isa terrible responsibility for an old woman in such dreadful timesas these, when it seems to me that everyone has gone mad at once.What sort of a chamber do you want?"

  "Quite a small one," Harry answered, "just such a chamber as ayoung clerk on the look-out for employment and with his pocket veryslenderly lined, would desire."

  "I know just such a one," the old woman said. "It is a house afew doors away and has been tenanted by a friend of mine, a youngworkwoman, who was married four days ago--it is a quiet place,and the people keep to themselves, and do not trouble about theirneighbours' affairs."

  "That will just suit me," Harry said. "I suppose there is no porterbelow, so that I can go in or out without being noticed."

  "Oh, we have no porters in this quarter, and you can go in and outas you like."

  Half an hour later the matter was settled, and Harry was installedin his apartment, which was a little room scantily furnished, atthe top of the house, the window looking into the street in front.