The Chevalier De Maison Rouge (54 page)

to her."

Maison Rouge advanced a step to open the screen, hop-

ing that when she .saw him, and knew what brought him,

she would chancre her opinion in regard to the cure ; but

the gendarmes detected the movement.

" But," said Maison Rouge, " I am acholothist to the cure.''

"''Then, since sLe refuses the cure," said Duchesue,

" she does not require you."

THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. 361

" But still, perhaps she may accept me/' said he, raising his voice ; "it is impossible she would refuse me."

But Marie Antoinette was too much engrossed by the

sentiment which agitated her either to hear or recognize

the chevalier's voice.

" Go, monsieur," continued she ; "leave me," addressing Giraud, " since at this time we in France live under the regime of liberty, I claim the right of dying according to my own fashion."

Giraud offered some resistance.

" Leave me, monsieur," said she. " I desire you to leave me."

Giraud endeavored to speak.

"I will not hear you," said she; "leave me!" with the gesture of Marie Therese.

Giraud went out.

Maison Rouge essayed to gain a glimpse of her through

the opening in the screen, but the prisoner had turned

her back. The executioner's assistant crossed before the

cure ; he came in holding a cord in his hand. The two

gendarmes pushed the chevalier toward the door ; before,

amazed, despairing, and utterly bewildered, he had been

able to utter a cry, or make the slightest movement to

effect his purpose, he found himself, with the cur6, in the corridor of the turnkey. This corridor brought them

again into the register, where the news of the queen's re-

fusal had already circulated, where the Austrian pride of

Marie Antoinette was to some the pretext of the coarsest

invectives, and to others the subject of secret admiration.

" Go," said Richard, to the abb6, " return home, since she repulses you, and let her die as she likes."

" She is in the right," said Richard's wife, " and I would act the same."

" Then you would do wrong, citoyenne," said the cure'.

' Be silent," said the concierge, opening his eyes very wide ; " what does this concern you ? Go, abbe, go ! "

" No," said Giraud, " no. I will, notwithstanding all, accompany her ; one word, only one word, if she will

listen, might bring her back to duty ; besides, I am sent

P DUMAS VOL. XI.

362 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

by the order of the Commune, and I must discharge my

office."

"Send back your sexton, then," brutally observed the adjutant-major, commandant of the armed forces.

He had been formerly an actor of French comedy,

named Grammont. The eyes of the chevalier flashed

lightning, as he thrust his hand into his breast, where

Giraud knew he had concealed a poniard. He arrested

him with a suppliant look.

" Spare my life/' said he, in a low voice ; "you see all your hopes are lost ; do not ruin hers. I will mention

you on the route ; I swear to you I will tell her you risked your life that you might see her once more on earth."

These words calmed the effervescence of the young man,

and the ordinary reaction taking place, he sunk into a

state of quiescence. This man of heroic mind, of marvel-

ous power, had arrived at the termination of both strength

and will, and glided, irresolute, or, rather, exhausted and vanquished, into a state of torpor that might have been

imagined to be the precursor of death.

" Yes, I believe," said he, " it should be thus ; the cross for Jesus, the scaffold for her, gods and kings drink deep of the chalice presented to them by men."

Tliis thought produced resignation, and now, totally

prostrated, he allowed himself to be pushed without offer-

ing any resistance, except an occasional involuntary groan, to the outer gate, passive as Ophelia when, devoted to death, she found herself borne away by the remorseless waves.

At the foot of the gate, and at the doors of the concier-

gerie, a crowd was assembled, which, unless once seen, it

was impossible to describe. Impatience rules every passion, and each passion speaks its own language, and these combined formed an immense and prolonged uproar, as if the

whole noise and the entire population of Paris were on

this occasion concentrated in the quarter of the Palais de

Justice. In front of this crowd the whole army was en-

camped, with guns intended to guard the procession, and

also to secure the enjoyment to those who came to witness

the last act of the tragedy.

THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

It wonld have been vain to attempt to pierce this pro-

found rampart, increasing gradually, since the condemna-

tion of the queen was now known not only at Paris, but

by the patriots of the faubourgs. Maison Rouge, expelled

from the conciergerie, naturally found himself in the first rank among the soldiers, who instantly demanded who he

was. He replied, " He was the curate of the Abbe Giraud, but having bound himself by the same oath, he, like the

cure, had been dismissed and refused by the queen ; " on which the soldiers, in their turn, pushed him into the

first row of spectators, where he was again compelled to

repeat what he had previously told them.

Then the cry arose : " He has just left ! " "He has seen her ! *' What did she say ? " " What did she do ? "

"Is sheas haughty as usual?" "Is she cast down ?"

" Does she weep ? " The chevalier replied to all these questions in a feeble but sweet and affable tone, as if this voice was the last manifestation of life suspended on his

lips. His answer was couched in the language of truth

and simplicity. It contained an elogium on the firmness

of Marie Antoinette, and that which he recounted with

the sublimity and faith of an evangelist, cast sorrow and

remorse over many hearts.

When he spoke of the little dauphin, and of Mine. Roy-

ale, of this queen without a throne, of this wife without

a husband, this mother bereft of her children, this woman

alone and abandoned, without a friend, surrounded by

executioners, more than one face here and there assumed

a sad expression, and more than one tear of regret was

clandestinely wiped from eyes previously animated by ha-

tred. The palace clock struck eleven. All murmuring at

this moment ceased. One hundred thousand human

beings counted these strokes, echoed by the pulsations of

their own hearts. When the last vibration had ceased

and died away in the distance, a loud noise was heard

within the gates, and, at the same time, a cart advancing

from the side of the Quai aux Fleurs broke through the

crowd, then the guards, and drew up at the bottom of the

steps. The queen soon appeared on the top of the stair-

361 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

case ; she made a motion of astonishment and horror ;

her respiration was laborious and slow ; her hair was cut

short, the greater portion had turned gray during her cap-

tivity, and this shade of silver rendered still more delicate the mother-of-pearl pallor which at this moment lent an

almost angelic beauty to this daughter of the Caesars.

She was attired in a white robe, her hands were fastened

at her back. When she appeared with the Abbe Giraud

on her right, who, notwithstanding all opposition, would

still accompany her, and the executioner on her left, both

dressed in black, there ran throughout the crowd a mur-

mur that God alone, who reads all hearts, could compre-

hend and sum up the truth. A man passed between the

executioner and Marie Antoinette ; it was Grammont.

He conducted her to the fatal car. The queen recoiled.

" Mount ! " said Grammont.

This word was distinctly heard by all. Emotion held

every breath suspended on the lips of the spectators. A

blush suffused the face of the queen, mounting even to

the roots of her hair, but immediately receded, leaving

her face a ghastly paleness, and blanching her half-open

lips.

" Why a cart for me," she said, " when the king had a carriage to convey him to the scaffold ? "

The Abbe Giraud advanced, and addressed a few words

to her in a low tone ; doubtless he condemned this last

cry of royal pride. The queen remained silent, but tot-

tered so much that Sanson held out his arms to support

her ; but she recovered her self-possession before he could touch her. She then descended the staircase, while the

assistants placed a foot-board behind the cart. The

queen went first, the abbe followed her. When the cart

was in motion it caused a great movement in the assem-

blage : and the soldiers, at the same time, ignorant of its cause, united their efforts to push back the crowd, and,

consequently, a large space was cleared between the

people and the vehicle of death, when suddenly a mourn-

ful howling was heard. The queen started, and instantly

rose, looking around her. She then saw her little dog,

THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. 365

which had been lost for two months, who, unable to fol-

low her into the conciergerie, regardless of kicks, blows,

and thrusts, rushed toward the cart ; but almost directly

poor Jet, thin even to emaciation, starving and bruised,

disappeared under the horses' feet. The queen followed

him with her eyes ; she could not speak, for her voice was

drowned in the noise ; she could not raise her hands, for

they were tied ; and had she been able to do either, who

would have listened to her. Having closed her eyes for

an instant, she soon revived, lie was in the arms of a

pale young man, who, standing on a cannon, was con-

spicuous above the crowd, and prompted by an inex-

plicable impulse, pointed toward heaven. Marie An-

toinette looked upward and smiled sweetly.

The chevalier uttered a groan, as if this smile had

broken his heart ; and as the fatal cart turned toward the

Pont an Change, he fell back among the crowd, and dis-

appeared.

CHAPTER XLIX.

THE SCAFFOLD.

UPON La Place de la Revolution,, leaning against a lamp-

post, two men were waiting. Of those who followed

with the crowd, some were carried to La Place du Palais,

others to La Place dela Revolution, while the rest spread,

impatient and tumultuous, over the whole road separating

the two places. When the queen reached the instrument

of punishment, which, defaced by the sun and storm,

worn by the hand of the executioner, and, most horrible,

blunted by too frequent contact with its victims, it reared its head with a sinister pride over the subjacent mass, like a queen ruling her people. The two men, arm in arm,

and speaking by fits and starts, with pale lips and con-

tracted brows, were Louis and Maurice. Lost in the

crowd, but not in a way calculated to excite suspicion,

they continued in a low tone their conversation, which

was perhaps not the least interesting one circulating

366 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

among the various groups, which, like an electric chain,

agitated this living sea from the Pont au Change to the

Place de la Revolution.

" See," said Maurice, as the hideous monster reared her red arms ; " might it not be said that she calls us, and smiles from her wicket, in anticipation of a frightful

mouthful."

"I," said Louis, "must confess I do not belong to the school of poetry which sees everything couleur de rouge,.

I see it en rose, and even at the foot of this dreadful ma-

chine, I will sing and hope still. ' Dum spiro, spero.' '

" You hope, when they murder women ? "

"Maurice," said Louis, "child of the Revolution, do not deny your mother. Ah ! Maurice, remain a stanch

and loyal patriot. She who is condemned to die is un-

like all other women ; she is the evil genius of France."

" Oh ! it is not her that I regret ; it is not for her I weep ! " cried Maurice.

" Yes, I understand, it is Genevieve."

" Ah ! " said Maurice, " there is one thought that drives me mad. It is that Genevieve is in the hands of those

purveyors to the guillotine, Hebert and Fouquier Tin-

ville ; in the hands of the men who sent here the poor

Heloise, and are now sending the proud Marie An-

toinette."

" Well," said Louis, " it is this thought that inspires me with hope. "When the anger of the people has feasted two tyrants it will be for some time satiated at least, like the boa-constrictor, who requires three months to digest

what he has devoured. Then it will swallow no more ;

and, as it is said by the prophets of the faubourg, 'the

lesser morsels will have no cause for fear."

"Louis! Louis I " said Maurice, "I am more positive than you, and I say it in a whisper, but am ready to repeat it aloud ; Louis, I hate the new queen, who seems destined

to succeed the Austrian whom she destroys. It is a sad

queen whose purple is daily dyed in blood, and to whom

Sanson is prime minister."

" Bah ! we shall escape."

THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. 367

" I do not believe it," said Maurice, shaking his head ;

" to avoid being arrested at your house, we have no resource but to live in the street."

" Bah ! we can quit Paris ; there is nothing to prevent us. We need not complain then. My uncle will await