The Elusive Pimpernel

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

  Her origin was of the humblest, for her mother--so it was said--hadbeen kitchen-maid in the household of the Duc de Marny, but Desiree hadreceived some kind of education, and though she began life as a dresserin one of the minor theatres of Paris, she became ultimately one of itsmost popular stars.

  She was small and dark, dainty in her manner and ways, and with agraceful little figure, peculiarly supple and sinuous. Her humbleorigin certainly did not betray itself in her hands and feet, which wereexquisite in shape and lilliputian in size.

  Her hair was soft and glossy, always free from powder, and cunninglyarranged so as to slightly overshadow the upper part of her face.

  The chin was small and round, the mouth extraordinarily red, the neckslender and long. But she was not pretty: so said all the women. Herskin was rather coarse in texture and darkish in colour, her eyeswere narrow and slightly turned upwards at the corners; no! she wasdistinctly not pretty.

  Yet she pleased the men! Perhaps because she was so artlessly determinedto please them. The women said that Demoiselle Candeille never left aman alone until she had succeeded in captivating his fancy if only forfive minutes; an interval in a dance... the time to cross a muddy road.

  But for five minutes she was determined to hold any man's completeattention, and to exact his admiration. And she nearly always succeeded.

  Therefore the women hated her. The men were amused. It is extremelypleasant to have one's admiration compelled, one's attention sodeterminedly sought after.

  And Candeille could be extremely amusing, and as Madelon in Moliere's"Les Precieuses" was quite inimitable.

  This, however, was in the olden days, just before Paris went quite mad,before the Reign of Terror had set in, and ci-devant Louis the King hadbeen executed.

  Candeille had taken it into her frolicsome little head that she wouldlike to go to London. The idea was of course in the nature of anexperiment. Those dull English people over the water knew so littleof what good acting really meant. Tragedy? Well! passons! Their heavy,large-boned actresses might manage one or two big scenes where acommanding presence and a powerful voice would not come amiss, and whereprominent teeth would pass unnoticed in the agony of a dramatic climax.

  But Comedy!

  Ah! ca non, par example! Demoiselle Candeille had seen several Englishgentlemen and ladies in those same olden days at the Tuileries, butshe really could not imagine any of them enacting the piquant scenes ofMoliere or Beaumarchais.

  Demoiselle Candeille thought of every English-born individual as havingvery large teeth. Now large teeth do not lend themselves to well-spokencomedy scenes, to smiles, or to double entendre.

  Her own teeth were exceptionally small and white, and very sharp, likethose of a kitten.

  Yes! Demoiselle Candeille thought it would be extremely interesting togo to London and to show to a nation of shopkeepers how daintily one canbe amused in a theatre.

  Permission to depart from Paris was easy to obtain. In fact the fairlady had never really found it difficult to obtain anything she verymuch wanted.

  In this case she had plenty of friends in high places. Marat was stillalive and a great lover of the theatre. Tallien was a personal admirerof hers, Deputy Dupont would do anything she asked.

  She wanted to act in London, at a theatre called Drury Lane. She wantedto play Moliere in England in French, and had already spoken withseveral of her colleagues, who were ready to join her. They would givepublic representations in aid of the starving population of France;there were plenty of Socialistic clubs in London quite Jacobin andRevolutionary in tendency: their members would give her full support.

  She would be serving her country and her countrymen and incidentally seesomething of the world, and amuse herself. She was bored in Paris.

  Then she thought of Marguerite St. Just, once of the Maison Moliere, whohad captivated an English milor of enormous wealth. Demoiselle Candeillehad never been of the Maison Moliere; she had been the leading star ofone of the minor--yet much-frequented--theatres of Paris, but she feltherself quite able and ready to captivate some other unattached milor,who would load her with English money and incidentally bestow an Englishname upon her.

  So she went to London.

  The experiment, however, had not proved an unmitigated success. At firstshe and her company did obtain a few engagements at one or two of theminor theatres, to give representations of some of the French classicalcomedies in the original language.

  But these never quite became the fashion. The feeling against Franceand all her doings was far too keen in that very set, which DemoiselleCandeille had desired to captivate with her talents, to allow of theEnglish jeunesse doree to flock and see Moliere played in French, by aFrench troupe, whilst Candeille's own compatriots resident in Englandhad given her but scant support.

  One section of these--the aristocrats and emigres--looked upon theactress who was a friend of all the Jacobins in Paris as nothing betterthan canaille. They sedulously ignored her presence in this country, andsnubbed her whenever they had an opportunity.

  The other section--chiefly consisting of agents and spies of theRevolutionary Government--she would gladly have ignored. They had atfirst made a constant demand on her purse, her talents and her time:then she grew tired of them, and felt more and more chary of beingidentified with a set which was in such ill-odour with that very samejeunesse doree whom Candeille had desired to please.

  In her own country she was and always had been a good republican: Marathad given her her first start in life by his violent praises of hertalent in his widely-circulated paper; she had been associated inParis with the whole coterie of artists and actors: every one of themrepublican to a man. But in London, although one might be snubbed bythe emigres and aristocrats--it did not do to be mixed up with thesans-culotte journalists and pamphleteers who haunted the Socialisticclubs of the English capital, and who were the prime organizers of allthose seditious gatherings and treasonable unions that caused Mr. Pittand his colleagues so much trouble and anxiety.

  One by one, Desiree Candeille's comrades, male and female, who hadaccompanied her to England, returned to their own country. When war wasdeclared, some of them were actually sent back under the provisions ofthe Aliens Bill.

  But Desiree had stayed on.

  Her old friends in Paris had managed to advise her that she would notbe very welcome there just now. The sans-culotte journalists of England,the agents and spies of the Revolutionary Government, had taken theirrevenge of the frequent snubs inflicted upon them by the young actress,and in those days the fact of being unwelcome in France was apt to havea more lurid and more dangerous significant.

  Candeille did not dare return: at any rate not for the present.

  She trusted to her own powers of intrigue, and her well-knownfascinations, to re-conquer the friendship of the Jacobin clique, andshe once more turned her attention to the affiliated Socialistic clubsof England. But between the proverbial two stools, Demoiselle Candeillesoon came to the ground. Her machinations became known in officialquarters, her connection with all the seditious clubs of London was soonbruited abroad, and one evening Desiree found herself confronted witha document addressed to her: "From the Office of His Majesty's PrivySeal," wherein it was set forth that, pursuant to the statute 33 GeorgeIII. cap. 5, she, Desiree Candeille, a French subject now resident inEngland, was required to leave this kingdom by order of His Majestywithin seven days, and that in the event of the said Desiree Candeillerefusing to comply with this order, she would be liable to commitment,brought to trial and sentenced to imprisonment for a month, andafterwards to removal within a limited time under pain of transportationfor life.

  This meant that Demoiselle Candeille had exactly seven days in which tomake complete her reconciliation with her former friends who now ruledParis and France with a relentless and perpetually bloodstained hand.No wonder that during the night which followed the receipt of thismomentous document, Demoiselle Candeille suffered gravely from insomnia.

  She
dared not go back to France, she was ordered out of England! Whatwas to become of her?

  This was just three days before the eventful afternoon of the RichmondGala, and twenty-four hours after ex-Ambassador Chauvelin had landed inEngland. Candeille and Chauvelin had since then met at the "Cercle desJacobins Francais" in Soho Street, and now fair Desiree found herself inlodgings in Richmond, the evening of the day following the Gala, feelingthat her luck had not altogether deserted her.

  One conversation with Citizen Chauvelin had brought the fickle jadeback to Demoiselle Candeilles' service. Nay, more, the young actresssaw before her visions of intrigue, of dramatic situations, of pleasantlittle bits of revenge;--all of which was meat and drink and air tobreathe for Mademoiselle Desiree.

  She was to sing in one of the most fashionable salons in England: thatwas very pleasant. The Prince of Wales would hear and see her! thatopened out a vista of delightful possibilities! And all she had to dowas to act a part dictated to her by Citizen Chauvelin, to behave ashe directed, to move in the way he wished! Well! that was easy enough,since the part which she would have to play was one peculiarly suited toher talents.

  She looked at herself critically in the glass. Her maid Fanchon--alittle French waif picked up in the slums of Soho--helped to readjust astray curl which had rebelled against the comb.

  "Now for the necklace, Mademoiselle," said Fanchon with suppressedexcitement.

  It had just arrived by messenger: a large morocco case, which now layopen on the dressing table, displaying its dazzling contents.

  Candeille scarcely dared to touch it, and yet it was for her. CitizenChauvelin had sent a note with it.

  "Citizeness Candeille will please accept this gift from the governmentof France in acknowledgment of useful services past and to come."

  The note was signed with Robespierre's own name, followed by that ofCitizen Chauvelin. The morocco case contained a necklace of diamondsworth the ransom of a king.

  "For useful services past and to come!" and there were promises of stillfurther rewards, a complete pardon for all defalcations, a placewithin the charmed circle of the Comedie Francaise, a grand pageantand apotheosis with Citizeness Candeille impersonating the Goddess ofReason, in the midst of a grand national fete, and the acclamations ofexcited Paris: and all in exchange for the enactment of a part--simpleand easy--outlined for her by Chauvelin!...

  How strange! how inexplicable! Candeille took the necklace up in hertrembling fingers and gazed musingly at the priceless gems. She had seenthe jewels before, long, long ago! round the neck of the Duchesse deMarny, in whose service her own mother had been. She--as a child--hadoften gazed at and admired the great lady, who seemed like a wonderfulfairy from an altogether world, to the poor little kitchen slut.

  How wonderful are the vagaries of fortune! Desiree Candeille, thekitchen-maid's daughter, now wearing her ex-mistress' jewels.She supposed that these had been confiscated when the last of theMarnys--the girl, Juliette--had escaped from France! confiscated and nowsent to her--Candeille--as a reward or as a bribe!

  In either case they were welcome. The actress' vanity was soothed. Sheknew Juliette Marny was in England, and that she would meet her to-nightat Lady Blakeney's. After the many snubs which she had endured fromFrench aristocrats settled in England, the actress felt that she wasabout to enjoy an evening of triumph.

  The intrigue excited her. She did not quite know what schemes Chauvelinwas aiming at, what ultimate end he had had in view when he commandedher services and taught her the part which he wished her to play.

  That the schemes were vast and the end mighty, she could not doubt. Thereward she had received was proof enough of that.

  Little Fanchon stood there in speechless admiration, whilst her mistressstill fondly fingered the magnificent necklace.

  "Mademoiselle will wear the diamond to-night?" she asked with evidentanxiety: she would have been bitterly disappointed to have seen thebeautiful thing once more relegated to its dark morocco case.

  "Oh, yes, Fanchon!" said Candeille with a sigh of great satisfaction;"see that they are fastened quite securely, my girl."

  She put the necklace round her shapely neck and Fanchon looked to seethat the clasp was quite secure.

  There came the sound of loud knocking at the street door.

  "That is M. Chauvelin come to fetch me with the chaise. Am I quiteready, Fanchon?" asked Desiree Candeille.

  "Oh yes, Mademoiselle!" sighed the little maid; "and Mademoiselle looksvery beautiful to-night."

  "Lady Blakeney is very beautiful too, Fanchon," rejoined the actressnaively, "but I wonder if she will wear anything as fine as the Marnynecklace?"

  The knocking at the street door was repeated. Candeille took a final,satisfied survey of herself in the glass. She knew her part and feltthat she had dressed well for it. She gave a final, affectionatelittle tap to the diamonds round her neck, took her cloak and hood fromFanchon, and was ready to go.

  Chapter X: Lady Blakeney's Rout