A Girl of the Commune

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER VIII.

  M. Goude grumbled much when he heard that his whole class were going tobe absent for three days.

  "A nice interruption to study," he said, "however, you were none of youdoing yourselves any good, and you may as well be out in the fields ashanging about the streets gossiping. We can always talk, but during thepast six weeks Paris has done nothing but talk. Don't come back with anyof your number short. You have all got something in you and are too goodfor food for Prussian powder."

  Cuthbert went that evening to the Michauds, in his uniform, not for thepurpose of showing it off, but because men in plain clothes, especiallyif of fair complexions, were constantly stopped and accused of beingGerman spies, were often ill-treated, and not unfrequently had to pass anight in the cells before they could prove their identity. Mary gave anexclamation of surprise at seeing him so attired, but made no remarkuntil after chatting for half an hour with the Michauds. The husbandpresently made the excuse that he had to attend a meeting and went off,while madame took up some knitting, settled herself in an easy chair,and prepared for a quiet doze, then Mary said in English--

  "I have no patience with you, Cuthbert, taking part with these foolishpeople. The more I see of them the more I get tired of their bombast andtheir empty talk. Every man expects everyone else to do something and noone does anything."

  "They have had nothing to stir them into action yet," he said, "only theregulars and the moblots go outside the wall, and the National Guard arepractically useless until the Germans make an assault. Besides, threeparts of them are married men with families, and nothing short of theirhomes being in danger will stir them up to risk their lives. We aregoing out for three days to the outposts, we fall in at five o'clockto-morrow morning."

  "You are going to risk your life," she said, indignantly, "for theParisians, who have no idea whatever of risking theirs. I call itmadness."

  "You are going against your own doctrines, Miss Brander. Before you wereindignant with me for doing nothing and being in earnest about nothing.Now that I am doing something and that in grim earnest, you are just asindignant as you were before."

  "I did not mean this sort of thing," she said.

  "No, I don't suppose you contemplated this. But you wanted me to workfor work's sake, although as it seemed then there was no occasion for meto work."

  "If it had been on the other side I should not have minded."

  "Just so," he smiled. "You have become Germanized, I have not. Myfriends here have all enlisted; I am going with them partly because theyare my friends and partly because it is evident the Germans might havewell stopped this war before now, but they demand terms that France cannever submit to as long as there is the faintest hope of success. Youneed not be at all anxious about me. We are not going to attack thePrussian positions I can assure you. We are only going out to do alittle outpost duty, to learn to hear the bullets flying withoutducking, and to fire our rifles without shutting our eyes. I don'tsuppose there are five men in the three companies who have ever fired arifle in their lives.

  "You see the Franc-tireurs are to a great extent independent of themilitary authorities--if you can call men military authorities whoexercise next to no authority over their soldiers. The Franc-tireurscome and go as they choose, and a good many of them wear the uniformonly as a means of escape from serving, and as a whole they are next touseless. I think our corps will do better things. We are all students ofart, law or physic, and a good deal like such volunteer corps as theartists or 'Inns of Court.' Some of the younger professors are in theranks, and at least we are all of average intelligence and education, soI fancy we shall fight if we get a chance. I don't mean now, but lateron when we have gained confidence in ourselves and in our rifles. Justat present the Parisians are disposed to look upon the Germans asbogies, but this will wear off, and as discipline is recovered by theline, and the mobiles grow into soldiers, you will see that things willbe very different; and although I don't indulge in any vain fancy thatwe are going to defeat the German army, I do think that we shall bearourselves like men and show something of the old French spirit."

  "That will be a change, indeed," the girl said, scornfully.

  "Yes, it will be a change," he answered, quietly, "but by no means animpossible one. You must not take the vaporings and bombast of the ParisBourgeois or the ranting of Blanqui and the Belleville roughs as thevoice of France. The Germans thought that they were going to take Parisin three days. I doubt if they will take it in three months. If we hadprovisions I should say they would not take it in treble that time. Theycertainly would not do it without making regular approaches, and beforethey can do that they have to capture some of the forts. These, as youknow, are manned by 10,000 sailors, hardy marines and Bretons, welldisciplined and untainted by the politics which are the curse of thiscountry. Well, I must be going. I have to purchase my three days' storeof provisions on my way back to my lodgings and shall have to turn outearly."

  "Don't do anything rash," she said, earnestly.

  "I can assure you rashness is not in my line at all, and I don't supposewe shall ever get within five hundred yards of a Prussian soldier. Youneed not be in the least uneasy, even supposing that you were inclinedto fidget about me?"

  "Of course, I should fidget about you," she said, indignantly. "Afterknowing you ever since I was a little child, naturally I should be verysorry if anything happened to you."

  "By the way," he said, without pursuing the subject farther, "I hearthat there is a movement on foot for forming a corps of women. If theyshould do so it will afford you another illustration of the equality ofyour sex to ours in all matters, and I will go so far as to admit that Iwould much rather lead a company of the market-women than one composedof these Parisian shopkeepers."

  "Don't, Mr. Hartington," she said, appealingly, "I don't feel equal tofighting now."

  "Then we won't fight. Good-bye! If we are not lucky enough to light uponsome empty cottages to sleep in I fancy the gloss will be taken out ofthis uniform before I see you again." He picked up his cap, shook hands,and was gone.

  Madame Michaud woke up as the door closed.

  "He has gone? your tall countryman."

  "Yes, he is going out to-morrow to the outposts. I think it is verysilly of him and very wrong mixing up in a quarrel that does not concernhim, especially when there are tens of thousands here in Paris who,instead of fighting for their country, are content to sit all day incafes and talk."

  "They will fight when the time comes," Madame Michaud said,complacently. "They will fight like heroes. The Prussians will learnwhat Frenchmen are capable of doing."

  But Mary had no patience just at present to listen to this sort ofthing, and with the excuse that her head ached went at once to her room.

  "I do not understand these English," Madame Michaud thought, as she drewthe lamp nearer and resumed her knitting, "here are a young woman and ayoung man who are more like comrades than lovers. She was angry, moreangry than I thought she could be, for she is generally good-tempered,when I asked her, the first time he came, if they were _affiances_, 'Weare old friends, madame,' she said, 'and nothing but friends. Cannot agirl have a man as a friend without there being any thought of love? InEngland people are friends, they can talk and laugh to each otherwithout any silly ideas of this sort occurring to them. This is one ofthe things that keeps woman back in the scale, this supposition that sheis always thinking of love.' I did not believe her then, but I havelistened to-night when they thought I was asleep, and I even peeped outtwo or three times between my eyelids. I could not understand a word ofwhat they said, but one can tell things by the tone withoutunderstanding the words. There was no love-making. She scolded him andhe laughed. He sat carelessly in his chair, and did not move an inchnearer to her. She was as straight and as upright as she always is.

  "That is not the way lovers act when one is going out to fight. I peepedout when he shook hands with her. He did not hold her hand a moment, hejust shook it. They are strange peopl
e, these English. It would be wrongfor a French girl thus to talk to a young man, but I suppose it isdifferent with them. Who can understand these strange islanders? Why, ifLucien were going out to fight I should dissolve in tears, I shouldembrace him and hang on his neck; I might even have hysterics, though Ihave never had them in my life. She is a good girl, too, though she hassuch strange ideas about women. What can she want for them? I manage thehouse and Lucien goes to his office. If I say a thing is to be done inthe house it is done. I call that equality. I cannot tell what she isaiming at. At times it seems to me that she is even more mad than hercompatriots, and yet on other subjects she talks with good sense. Whather father and mother can be about to let her be living abroad byherself is more than I can think. They must be even more mad than sheis."

  Work at M. Goude's school went on steadily during the intervals betweenthe turns of the Franc-tireurs des Ecoles going out beyond the walls.Indeed M. Goude acknowledged that the work was better than usual.Certainly the studio was never merrier or more full of life. So far fromthe active exercise and the rough work entailed by the constantvigilance necessary during the long night-watches, diminishing theinterest of the young fellows in their work in the studio, it seemed toinvigorate them, and they painted as if inflamed with the determinationto make up for lost time.

  It converted them, in fact, for the time, from a group of careless,merry young fellows, into men with a sense of responsibility. Their timewhen away from the studio had previously been spent in follies andfrivolities. They often drank much more than was good for them, smokedinordinately, were up half the night, and came in the morning to workwith heavy heads and nerveless hands. Now they were soldiers, men whomatched themselves against the invaders of their country, who riskedtheir lives in her defence, and they bore themselves more erectly, atone of earnestness replaced a languid indifference and a carelessnessas to their work, and in spite of some privations in the way of foodtheir figures seemed to expand.

  The loss of two nights' sleep a week rendered early hours necessary, andensured sound sleep during the remaining five. The discipline of thestudio had been relaxed. The master felt that at such a time he couldnot expect the same silent concentration on work that it demanded atother times, but he found to his surprise that while they laughed andjoked as they painted, they worked none the worse for this, and that infact there was a general improvement manifest.

  Cuthbert heartily enjoyed the change; the prevailing tone was more likethat to which he was accustomed at the studios of St. John's Wood thanwas the somewhat strict discipline that had before prevailed in thestudio, and he enjoyed the hard work and excitement outside the walls.The fact that they were running the same risks and sharing in the samework was an added bond of union among the students; and, although, whenthey met, as they very frequently did in each other's lodgings, therewas less uproarious fun than before; there was a healthier atmosphere,and more pleasant and earnest talk.

  Arnold Dampierre was the only exception to the general rule. When in thefield he evinced no want of spirit, and upon the contrary was alwaysready to volunteer when a few men were required to crawl forward atnight to ascertain the precise position of the Prussian outposts or toendeavor to find out the meaning of any stir or movement that might beheard towards their front. At other times his fits of moodiness seemedto increase. He was seldom present at any of the gatherings of hiscompanions, but went off after work at the studio was over, and it wasgenerally late at night before he returned to his rooms.

  Cuthbert felt that the American avoided all opportunities ofconversation with him alone. He replied cordially enough to his greetingwhen they met, but they no longer dropped in to smoke a pipe in eachother's apartments as they formerly had done. Cuthbert had no greatdifficulty in guessing at the reasons for this change in theirrelations. He himself when he first noticed that Arnold was taking thefirst place with Minette had spoken to him half-jestingly,half-seriously, on the subject. He had never made any secret of his owndistrust of the model, and in the early days of their intercourse hadspoken freely to Arnold on the subject. He could understand that if theAmerican, as it appeared, had become really attached to her, he wouldshrink from the risk of any expostulations on the course he had adopted.

  Cuthbert believed that his comrade was at present in a state ofindecision, and that, although deeply in love, he had not as yet beenable to bring himself to the idea of taking Minette back as his wife tohis home in Louisiana.

  "It would be sheer madness," he said to himself, "and yet I have nodoubt it will end in his doing so, but as he must know it is a piece ofstupendous folly, I can understand his reluctance to risk my speaking tohim on the subject. I am awfully sorry for him, but I know it is one ofthose cases in which, now that it has gone as far as it has, it would beworse than useless to try to interfere, and would only make him morebent upon going through with it. I don't see that one can do anythingbut trust to the chapter of accidents. Minette, dazzled as she might beby the prospect of marrying a gentleman and a man of property, mightstill hesitate to do so if it would entail her having to leave Paris andlive abroad.

  "I have no doubt that she is very fond of Dampierre, but she may changeher mind. He may be killed before this business is over. He may decideto return to America directly the siege ends, with the idea of comingover to fetch her afterwards, and either he may get over hisinfatuation, or on his return may find that some one else has supplantedhim in her affections. I should not fancy that constancy would be one ofher strong points; at any rate I do not see that I can do any good bymeddling in the matter, though if Dampierre spoke to me about it, Ishould certainly express my opinion frankly. It is much the best thatthings should go on between us as they are now doing. He is a hot-headedbeggar, and the probabilities are strong in the favor of our having aserious quarrel if the subject were ever broached between us."

  One evening Cuthbert had taken up a book after his return from thestudio, and sat reading until it was long past his usual dinner hourbefore he went out. He passed through several badly lighted streets onhis way to the restaurant in the Palais Royal, where he intended todine. There were but few people about, for the evening was wet. He wasvaguely conscious that some one was going in the same direction ashimself, for he heard footsteps following him a short distance behind.In one of the worst lighted and most silent streets the steps suddenlyquickened. Cuthbert turned sharply round. He was but just in time, for aman who had been following him was on the point of springing upon himwith uplifted arm.

  Cuthbert felt rather than saw that there was a knife in his hand, andstruck straight from the shoulder at his face; the fellow was in the actof striking when he received the blow. He fell as if shot, the knife,flying from his hand, clattering on the pavement several yards away.Cuthbert stood for a moment prepared to strike again if the man rose,but as he made no movement he turned on his heel and walked on.

  "It would serve him right if I were to give the scoundrel in charge forattempted murder," he said, "but it would give me no end of bother. Itwould not be worth the trouble, and he has been pretty well punished. Ihave cut my knuckles, and I imagine that when he comes to be will findhimself minus some of his teeth. I wonder what his object was robbery, Isuppose and yet it is hardly likely that the fellow would have singledme out and decided to kill me on the off chance of finding somethingworth taking. He could not have seen that I have a watch on, for mygreatcoat is buttoned. It is more like an act of private revenge, but Ihave never given anyone of that class any reason to dislike me.Cartainly the man followed me for some distance, for I have heard thesteps behind me ever since I turned off into these quiet streets.

  "By the way," he exclaimed, suddenly, "I should not be at all surprisedif he took me for Dampierre. We are about the same height, and althoughI am a good many inches wider than he is, that might not be noticed inthe dark. If the fellow was watching outside the door, and had knownnothing of there being another man of the same height in the house, hemight very well have taken me for Arnold. He spends
half his time up atMontmartre, and may likely enough have given offence to some of theruffians up there; when he is not in a pleasant temper he does not mindwhat he says. Possibly, too, the fellow may be an admirer of Minette,and the thing may be this outcome of jealousy. At any rate I will tellhim in the morning about the affair and let him take warning by it if hechooses."

  Accordingly, next morning he waited outside in the street for Arnold,who was generally the last to arrive at the studio.

  "Rather an unpleasant thing happened yesterday evening, Dampierre. I wasfollowed from here and attacked suddenly in one of the back streetsleading up to the Boulevards. I had heard footsteps behind me for alittle time and had a vague sort of idea that I was being followed. Thefellow ran up suddenly and I had just time to turn and hit out. He wasin the act of striking with a knife, and if I had been a second later hewould probably have settled me. As it was I knocked him down and I fancyI stunned him. At any rate he did not move, so I walked on. Of course itmay have been a mere vulgar attempt at murder and robbery, but from thefact that this man followed me for some considerable distance I shouldsay it was not so, but a question of revenge. I don't know that anyonein Paris has any cause of quarrel with me, but the idea afterwardsoccurred to me that it might be that he took me for you. We are aboutthe same height, and if he was watching the house he might, when I cameout, mistake one for the other. Of course I have not a shadow of reasonfor supposing that you have an enemy, but at any rate I thought it aswell to tell you about it, so that you might be on your guard, as Ishall certainly be, in the future."

  Arnold was silent for a minute.

  "I should not be surprised if you are right, Hartington; they are arough lot at Montmartre, and it is possible that I may, without knowingit, have rubbed some of them the wrong way. I suppose you did not noticewhat he was like?"

  "No, it was too dark, and the whole affair too sudden for me to seeanything of the features. He was in a blouse with the low cap workmengenerally wear. I should say he stood four or five inches shorter thanwe do--about five feet eight or so. He was a square-built fellow. If youhappen to come across him I fancy you may recognize him, not from mydescription but from my handiwork. You see," and he pointed to his righthand, which was wrapped up in an handkerchief, "I hit him hard and havecut two of my knuckles pretty badly--I fancy against his teeth. If so,I think it likely that two or three of them will be missing, and as aman of that sort is hardly likely to go at once to a dentist to have thegap filled up, it may prove a guide to you.

  "For the next day or two his lips are sure to be swollen pretty badly.Of course if you have no one in your mind's eye as being speciallylikely to make an attempt upon your life these little things will affordyou no clue whatever, but if you have any sort of suspicion that one ofthree or four men might be likely to have a grudge against you, they mayenable you to pick out the fellow who attempted my life. Of course I maybe mistaken altogether and the fellow may have been only an ordinarystreet ruffian. Personally it won't make much difference to me, for I ampretty handy with my fists, but as I know you have had no practice thatway, I recommend you always to carry a pistol when you go out at night."

  "I always do, Hartington; I always have one in each pocket of my coat."

  "Well, they may be useful, but I should recommend you to be careful, andto walk in the middle of the street when you are in doubtfulneighborhoods. A pistol is very good in its way, but it takes time toget it out, and cock it, while one's fist is always ready for service atan instant's notice."

  By this time they had arrived at the door of the studio. Arnold made noallusion to the subject for some days, and then meeting Cuthbert at thedoor of his house, said--

  "By the way, Hartington, I have reason to believe that you were rightthat that blow you luckily escaped was meant for me. However, I don'tthink there will be any recurrence of the matter; in fact, I may saythat I am sure there won't."

  "That is all right then, Dampierre. Of course I don't want the matterfollowed up in any way, and should not have spoken about it had I notthought that I ought to give you warning."

  "I feel very much indebted to you anyhow, Hartington. Probably had Ibeen in your place the matter would have gone altogether differently."

  Arnold had in fact learnt with absolute certainty who had beenCuthbert's assailant. When he went up to Montmartre he told Minette whathad happened, and added: "He suspects that the scoundrel took him in thedark for me."

  "Why should any one bear ill-will to you?" Minette asked.

  "That I can't say, but I do think that very likely he is right. He keepshimself to himself, never attends meetings of any kind, and can hardlyhave made an enemy, while it is possible that I may have done so."

  Minette was thoughtful for some time, and when her father joined themand said that it was time to be off to a meeting, she asked himabruptly--

  "Have you seen Jean Diantre to-day?"

  "Ay, I have seen him, and a pretty sight he is."

  "How is that, father?"

  "He took more liquor than was good for him and got a bad fall as he wasgoing upstairs to his room, and as luck would have it, his mouth caughtthe edge of the stone step. His lips were all cut and swollen to fourtimes their usual size and three of his teeth are out. Mon Dieu, what acrash he must have got! He has been drinking a great deal lately, and Ihave warned him over and over again that he would get himself intotrouble; but as a rule liquor does not affect him that way, he getssulky and bad-tempered, but he can generally walk steadily enough."

  "Father, you must come with us to his lodgings," Minette exclaimed. "Ihave something to say to him. I suppose he is up?"

  "But it is time to be at the meeting Minette. What do you want to seehim for?"

  "Never mind the meeting," she said, impatiently. "We shall be therebefore it is done. It is more important that I should see Jean."

  "Well, if it must be, it must," Dufaure grumbled, shrugging hisshoulders. "When you take a thing into your head I know it is of no usetalking."

  Jean Diantre was sitting with two or three of his mates in his atticover a small brazier of charcoal. They rose in surprise at the entranceof Minette and her father, followed by the American. The girl, withoutspeaking, walked straight up to Jean.

  "I knew you were a miserable," she said, bitterly, "a drunken, worthlessscamp, but until now I did not know you were a murderer. Yes, comrades,this man with whom you sit and smoke is a miserable assassin. Yesterdayevening he tried to take the life of Arnold Dampierre here, whom you allknow as a friend of freedom and a hater of tyranny. This brave companionof yours had not the courage to meet him face to face, but stole upbehind him in the dark, and in another moment would have slain the manhe was following, when the tables were turned. The man he had followedwas not Arnold Dampierre but another; and before this wretch couldstrike with his knife, he knocked him down, stunned him, and left himlike a dog that he is on the pavement. No doubt he has told you the liethat he told my father, that he fell while going upstairs drunk. It wasa blow of the fist that has marked him as you see. The man he had triedto murder did not even care to give him in charge. He despised this curtoo much, and yet the fellow may think himself fortunate. Had it beenMonsieur Dampierre it would not have been a fist but a bullet throughhis head that would have punished him. Now mark me, Jean Diantre," andshe moved a pace forward, so suddenly that the man started back, "youare a known assassin and poltroon. If at any time harm befalls MonsieurDampierre I will stab you with my own hand. If you ever dare to speak tome again I will hold you up to the scorn of the women of the quarter. Asit is, your comrades have heard how mean and cowardly a scoundrel youare. You had best move from Montmartre at once, for when this is knownno honest man will give you his hand, no man who respects himself willwork beside you. Hide yourself elsewhere, for if you stay here I willhound you down, I will see that you have not an hour's peace of yourlife. We reds have our ideas, but we are not assassins. We do not sneakafter a man to stab him in the dark, and when we have arms in our handswe
are not to be beaten like curs by an unarmed man."

  The other men had shrunk back from him as she spoke. Jean quailedbeneath her torrent of contemptuous words and from the fury in her eyes.There was no doubting the fact that her charges were true.

  "Who drove me to it?" he said sullenly through his swollen lips.

  "Who drove you! Drink and your evil temper drove you to it. You wantedto marry me--me who never gave you a word of encouragement; who knew you_au fond_, who knew that you were at the best an idle, worthless scamp,and would never have married you had there been no other living man inthe universe. But enough. I have said what I came to say, and you hadbest take warning. Come, father, you have stood this fellow's friend,and you have been wrong, but you know him now."

  Minette passed out through the door Arnold held open for her; her fatherand Arnold followed, and the four other men, without a word to JeanDiantre, went down the stairs after them, leaving him to himself.