After Dark

by Wilkie Collins

  CHAPTER II.

  Ignorant of the change in her husband's plans, which was to bring himback to Paris a day before the time that had been fixed for his return,Sister Rose had left her solitary home to spend the evening with herbrother. They had sat talking together long after sunset, and had letthe darkness steal on them insensibly, as people will who are onlyoccupied with quiet, familiar conversation. Thus it happened, by acurious coincidence, that just as Lomaque was blowing out his candles atthe office Rose was lighting the reading-lamp at her brother's lodgings.

  Five years of disappointment and sorrow had sadly changed her to outwardview. Her face looked thinner and longer; the once delicate red andwhite of her complexion was gone; her figure had wasted under theinfluence of some weakness, which had already made her stoop a littlewhen she walked. Her manner had lost its maiden shyness, only to becomeunnaturally quiet and subdued. Of all the charms which had so fatally,yet so innocently, allured her heartless husband, but one remained--thewinning gentleness of her voice. It might be touched now and then with anote of sadness, but the soft attraction of its even, natural tone stillremained. In the marring of all other harmonies, this one harmony hadbeen preserved unchanged. Her brother, though his face was careworn, andhis manner sadder than of old, looked less altered from his formerself. It is the most fragile material which soonest shows the flaw. Theworld's idol, Beauty, holds its frailest tenure of existence in the oneTemple where we most love to worship it.

  "And so you think, Louis, that our perilous undertaking has really endedwell by this time?" said Rose, anxiously, as she lighted the lamp andplaced the glass shade over it. "What a relief it is only to hear yousay you think we have succeeded at last!"

  "I said I hope, Rose," replied her brother.

  "Well, even hoped is a great word from you, Louis--a great word from anyone in this fearful city, and in these days of Terror."

  She stopped suddenly, seeing her brother raise his hand in warning. Theylooked at each other in silence and listened. The sound of footstepsgoing slowly past the house--ceasing for a moment just beyond it--thengoing on again--came through the open window. There was nothing else,out-of-doors or in, to disturb the silence of the night--the deadlysilence of Terror which, for months past, had hung over Paris. It was asignificant sign of the times, that even a passing footstep, soundinga little strangely at night, was subject for suspicion, both to brotherand sister--so common a subject, that they suspended their conversationas a matter of course, without exchanging a word of explanation, untilthe tramp of the strange footsteps had died away.

  "Louis," continued Rose, dropping her voice to a whisper, after nothingmore was audible, "when may I trust our secret to my husband?"

  "Not yet!" rejoined Trudaine, earnestly. "Not a word, not a hint of it,till I give you leave. Remember, Rose, you promised silence from thefirst. Everything depends on your holding that promise sacred till Irelease you from it."

  "I will hold it sacred; I will indeed, at all hazards, under allprovocations," she answered.

  "That is quite enough to reassure me--and now, love, let us change thesubject. Even these walls may have ears, and the closed door yondermay be no protection." He looked toward it uneasily while he spoke."By-the-by, I have come round to your way of thinking, Rose, about thatnew servant of mine--there is something false in his face. I wish I hadbeen as quick to detect it as you were."

  Rose glanced at him affrightedly. "Has he done anything suspicious? Haveyou caught him watching you? Tell me the worst, Louis."

  "Hush! hush! my dear, not so loud. Don't alarm yourself; he has donenothing suspicious."

  "Turn him off--pray, pray turn him off, before it is too late!"

  "And be denounced by him, in revenge, the first night he goes to hisSection. You forget that servants and masters are equal now. I am notsupposed to keep a servant at all. I have a citizen living with mewho lays me under domestic obligations, for which I make a pecuniaryacknowledgment. No! no! if I do anything, I must try if I can't entraphim into giving me warning. But we have got to another unpleasantsubject already--suppose I change the topic again? You will find alittle book on that table there, in the corner--tell me what you thinkof it."

  The book was a copy of Corneille's "Cid," prettily bound in bluemorocco. Rose was enthusiastic in her praises. "I found it in abookseller's shop, yesterday," said her brother, "and bought it as apresent for you. Corneille is not an author to compromise any one, evenin these times. Don't you remember saying the other day that youfelt ashamed of knowing but little of our greatest dramatist?" Roseremembered well, and smiled almost as happily as in the old times overher present. "There are some good engravings at the beginning of eachact," continued Trudaine, directing her attention rather earnestly tothe illustrations, and then suddenly leaving her side when he saw thatshe became interested in looking at them.

  He went to the window--listened--then drew aside the curtain, and lookedup and down the street. No living soul was in sight. "I must have beenmistaken," he thought, returning hastily to his sister; "but I certainlyfancied I was followed in my walk to-day by a spy."

  "I wonder," asked Rose, still busy over her book, "I wonder, Louis,whether my husband would let me go with you to see 'Le Cid' the nexttime it is acted."

  "No!" cried a voice at the door; "not if you went on your knees to askhim."

  Rose turned round with a scream. There stood her husband on thethreshold, scowling at her, with his hat on, and his hands thrustdoggedly into his pockets. Trudaine's servant announced him, with aninsolent smile, during the pause that followed the discovery. "CitizenSuperintendent Danville, to visit the citoyenne, his wife," said thefellow, making a mock bow to his master.

  Rose looked at her brother, then advanced a few paces toward the door."This is a surprise," she said, faintly; "has anything happened?We--we didn't expect you." Her voice failed her as she saw her husbandadvancing, pale to his very lips with suppressed anger.

  "How dare you come here, after what I told you?" he asked, in quick, lowtones.

  She shrank at his voice almost as if he had struck her. The blood flewinto her brother's face as he noticed the action; but he controlledhimself, and, taking her hand, led her in silence to a chair.

  "I forbid you to sit down in his house," said Danville, advancing still;"I order you to come back with me! Do you hear? I order you."

  He was approaching nearer to her, when he caught Trudaine's eye fixed onhim, and stopped. Rose started up, and placed herself between them.

  "Oh, Charles, Charles!" she said to her husband, "be friends with Louisto-night, and be kind again to me. I have a claim to ask that much ofyou, though you may not think it!"

  He turned away from her, and laughed contemptuously. She tried to speakagain, but Trudaine touched her on the arm, and gave her a warning look.

  "Signals!" exclaimed Danville; "secret signals between you!"

  His eye, as he glanced suspiciously at his wife, fell on Trudaine'sgift-book, which she still held unconsciously.

  "What book is that?" he asked.

  "Only a play of Corneille's," answered Rose; "Louis has just made me apresent of it."

  At this avowal Danville's suppressed anger burst beyond all control.

  "Give it him back!" he cried, in a voice of fury. "You shall take nopresents from him; the venom of the household spy soils everything hetouches. Give it him back!" She hesitated. "You won't?" He tore the bookfrom her with an oath, threw it on the floor, and set his foot on it.

  "Oh, Louis! Louis! for God's sake, remember."

  Trudaine was stepping forward as the book fell to the floor. At the samemoment his sister threw her arms round him. He stopped, turning fromfiery red to ghastly pale.

  "No, no, Louis!" she said, clasping him closer; "not after five years'patience. No--no!"

  He gently detached her arms.

  "You are right, love. Don't be afraid; it is all over now."

  Saying that, he put her from him, and in silence took up the book fromthe flo
or.

  "Won't _that_ offend you even?" said Danville, with an insolent smile."You have a wonderful temper--any other man would have called me out!"

  Trudaine looked back at him steadily; and taking out his handkerchief,passed it over the soiled cover of the book.

  "If I could wipe the stain of your blood off my conscience as easily asI can wipe the stain of your boot off this book," he said quietly, "youshould not live another hour. Don't cry, Rose," he continued, turningagain to his sister: "I will take care of your book for you until youcan keep it yourself."

  "You will do this! you will do that!" cried Danville, growing moreand more exasperated, and letting his anger got the better even of hiscunning now. "Talk less confidently of the future--you don't know whatit has in store for you. Govern your tongue when you are in my presence;a day may come when you will want my help--my help; do you hear that?"

  Trudaine turned his face from his sister, as if he feared to let her seeit when those words were spoken.

  "The man who followed me to-day was a spy--Danville's spy!" That thoughtflashed across his mind, but he gave it no utterance. There was aninstant's pause of silence; and through it there came heavily on thestill night air the rumbling of distant wheels. The sound advancednearer and nearer--advanced and ceased under the window.

  Danville hurried to it, and looked out eagerly. "I have not hastened myreturn without reason. I wouldn't have missed this arrest for anything!"thought he, peering into the night.

  The stars were out, but there was no moon. He could not recognize eitherthe coach or the persons who got out of it, and he turned again into theinterior of the room. His wife had sunk into a chair, her brother waslocking up in a cabinet the book which he had promised to take care offor her. The dead silence made the noise of slowly ascending footstepson the stairs painfully audible. At last the door opened softly.

  "Citizen Danville, health and fraternity!" said Lomaque, appearingin the doorway, followed by his agents. "Citizen Louis Trudaine?" hecontinued, beginning with the usual form.

  Rose started out of her chair; but her brother's hand was on her lipsbefore she could speak.

  "My name is Louis Trudaine," he answered.

  "Charles!" cried his sister, breaking from him and appealing to herhusband, "who are these men? What are they here for?"

  He gave her no answer.

  "Louis Trudaine," said Lomaque, slowly, drawing the order from hispocket, "in the name of the Republic, I arrest you."

  "Rose, come back," cried Trudaine.

  It was too late; she had broken from him, and in the recklessness ofterror, had seized her husband by the arm.

  "Save him!" she cried. "Save him, by all you hold dearest in the world!You are that man's superior, Charles--order him from the room!"

  Danville roughly shook her hand off his arm.

  "Lomaque is doing his duty. Yes," he added, with a glance ofmalicious triumph at Trudaine, "yes, doing his duty. Look at me as youplease--your looks won't move me. I denounced you! I admit it--I gloryin it! I have rid myself of an enemy, and the State of a bad citizen.Remember your secret visits to the house in the Rue de Clery!"

  His wife uttered a cry of horror. She seized his arm again with bothhands--frail, trembling hands--that seemed suddenly nerved with all thestrength of a man's.

  "Come here--come here! I must and will speak to you!"

  She dragged him by main force a few paces back, toward an unoccupiedcorner of the room. With deathly cheeks and wild eyes she raised herselfon tiptoe, and put her lips to her husband's ear. At that instantTrudaine called to her:

  "Rose, if you speak I am lost!"

  She stopped at the sound of his voice, dropped her hold on her husband'sarm, and faced her brother, shuddering.

  "Rose," he continued, "you have promised, and your promise is sacred.If you prize your honor, if you love me, come here--come here, and besilent."

  He held out his hand. She ran to him; and, laying her head on his bosom,burst into a passion of tears.

  Danville turned uneasily toward the police agents. "Remove yourprisoner," he said. "You have done your duty here."

  "Only half of it," retorted Lomaque, eying him attentively. "RoseDanville--"

  "My wife!" exclaimed the other. "What about my wife?"

  "Rose Danville," continued Lomaque, impassibly, "you are included in thearrest of Louis Trudaine."

  Rose raised her head quickly from her brother's breast. His firmnesshad deserted him--he was trembling. She heard him whispering to himself,"Rose, too! Oh, my God! I was not prepared for that." She heard thesewords, and dashed the tears from her eyes, and kissed him, saying:

  "I am glad of it, Louis. We risked all together--we shall now suffertogether. I am glad of it!"

  Danville looked incredulously at Lomaque, after the first shock ofastonishment was over.

  "Impossible!" he exclaimed. "I never denounced my wife. There is somemistake; you have exceeded your orders."

  "Silence!" retorted Lomaque, imperiously. "Silence, citizen, and respectto a decree of the Republic!"

  "You blackguard! show me the arrest-order!" said Danville. "Who hasdared to denounce my wife?"

  "You have!" said Lomaque, turning on him with a grin of contempt."You--and 'blackguard' back in your teeth! You, in denouncing herbrother! Aha! we work hard in our office; we don't waste time incalling names--we make discoveries. If Trudaine is guilty, your wife isimplicated in his guilt. We know it; and we arrest her."

  "I resist the arrest," cried Danville. "I am the authority here. Whoopposes me?"

  The impassible chief agent made no answer. Some new noise in the streetstruck his quick ear. He ran to the window and looked out eagerly.

  "Who opposes me?" reiterated Danville.

  "Hark!" exclaimed Lomaque, raising his hand. "Silence, and listen!"

  The heavy, dull tramp of men marching together became audible as hespoke. Voices humming low and in unison the Marseillaise hymn,joined solemnly with the heavy, regular footfalls. Soon the flare oftorch-light began to glimmer redder and redder under the dim, starlightsky.

  "Do you hear that? Do you see the advancing torch-light?" cried Lomaque,pointing exultingly into the street. "Respect to the national hymn,and to the man who holds in the hollow of his hand the destinies of allFrance! Hat off, Citizen Danville! Robespierre is in the street. Hisbodyguard, the Hard-hitters, are lighting him on his way to the JacobinClub! Who shall oppose you, did you say? Your master and mine; theman whose signature is at the bottom of this order--the man who witha scratch of his pen can send both our heads rolling together into thesack of the guillotine! Shall I call to him as he passes the house?Shall I tell him that Superintendent Danville resists me in making anarrest? Shall I? Shall I?" And in the immensity of his contempt, Lomaqueseemed absolutely to rise in stature, as he thrust the arrest orderunder Danville's eyes and pointed to the signature with the head of hisstick.

  Rose looked round in terror, as Lomaque spoke his last words--lookedround, and saw her husband recoil before the signature on the arrestorder, as if the guillotine itself had suddenly arisen before him.Her brother felt her shrinking back in his arms, and trembled for thepreservation of her self-control if the terror and suspense of thearrest lasted any longer.

  "Courage, Rose, courage!" he said. "You have behaved nobly; you must notfail now. No, no! Not a word more. Not a word till I am able to thinkclearly again, and to decide what is best. Courage, love; our livesdepend on it. Citizen," he continued, addressing himself to Lomaque,"proceed with your duty--we are ready."

  The heavy marching footsteps outside were striking louder and louder onthe ground; the chanting voices were every moment swelling in volume;the dark street was flaming again with the brightening torch-light, asLomaque, under pretext of giving Trudaine his hat, came close to him,and, turning his back toward Danville, whispered: "I have not forgottenthe eve of the wedding and the bench on the river bank."

  Before Trudaine could answer, he had taken Rose's cloak and hood from
one of his assistants, and was helping her on with it. Danville, stillpale and trembling, advanced a step when he saw these preparations fordeparture, and addressed a word or two to his wife; but he spoke inlow tones, and the fast-advancing march of feet and sullen low roar ofsinging outside drowned his voice. An oath burst from his lips, and hestruck his fist, in impotent fury, on a table near him.

  "The seals are set on everything in this room and in the bedroom," saidMagloire, approaching Lomaque, who nodded and signed to him to bring upthe other police agents at the door.

  "Ready," cried Magloire, coming forward immediately with his men, andraising his voice to make himself heard. "Where to?"

  Robespierre and his Hard-hitters were passing the house. The smoke ofthe torch-light was rolling in at the window; the tramping footstepsstruck heavier and heavier on the ground; the low sullen roar of theMarseillaise was swelling to its loudest, as Lomaque referred for amoment to his arrest-order, and then answered:

  "To the prison of St. Lazare!"