The Little Old Portrait

by Mrs. Molesworth

lawlessness and licence ofthe `rule of the mob,' and Pierre laughed back a mocking reply. He didnot yet, not till he had made his way through what seemed to himinnumerable streets, dare to ask for the Rue de Lille, so fearful was heof attracting attention by seeming to have any errand about which hemight be questioned. But at last, feeling hungry and tired, he venturedinto a milk shop, where a meek, rather frightened-looking woman, with alittle child in her arms, was standing behind the counter.

  "`Madame,' he was beginning, but the woman quickly interrupted him:`Citizeness, you mean, boy,' she said. `Whence do you come to use aword we never hear now?' and on his hastily begging her pardon, `it isnot for me; it matters nothing to me. It is for yourself, citizen,' sheadded. `You must watch your words, and indeed by your looks it werebetter for you to go back whence you came.'

  "Pierre felt startled. `By my looks, citizeness,' he said. `I lookwhat I am--a country lad come to see Paris for the first time.'

  "`Better never have seen it, then,' said the woman, earnestly. `Go backto your home, if you have one, my boy, for you look honest andinnocent,' but she spoke in a low voice, and glanced round her as ifafraid of being overheard.

  "There was something in her face, in her very timidity, which inspiredPierre with confidence.

  "`I cannot go back,' he said, speaking also in a low voice. `I havecome for a purpose, but I am a complete stranger. Perhaps you can helpme. Will you tell me the way to the Rue de Lille?'

  "The woman looked at him with regret.

  "`It is not far from here,' she said; `but it is a long street. Whathouse do you want there?'

  "`The house--the hotel of the Marquis de Sarinet,' he replied, but lowas he spoke the woman held up her hand with a warning gesture.

  "`Hush, hush!' she said, `we know no such names. The citizen Sarinet,'she continued, reflectively; `no, I do not remember ever to have heardof such an one. But there are few houses now inhabited by their formerowners in the Rue de Lille. You must ask there, but take care _how_ youask.'

  "`Once there, I can find the house, I am sure,' said Pierre; `it hasbeen so well described to me. If you will direct me to the street, thatis enough. But first, can you give me a cup of milk? I have hadnothing to eat or drink to-day.'

  "`You shall have some coffee and some bread,' said the woman. `I alwayshave it ready early in the morning, as I used to in quieter times. Butmy customers are less regular than then. Those who spend their nightsdrinking in the taverns, are not ready betimes. Keep out of suchplaces, my boy, and take my advice--get back to your mother in thecountry as soon as you can.'

  "`I wish nothing better,' said Pierre; `but first I must do what I havecome for.'

  "And then the good woman gave him his breakfast, for which he paid herwell. `Poor thing, it was not easy for those who stayed quietly at hometo get on now-a-days,' she said. Her husband had done no work for long.Where he got what he brought home, though only to waste it, she did notlike to ask.

  "`It is all the same cry now,' she said, waxing bolder in herconfidences, and glad to have some one to talk to.

  "`They won't work. What is the great republic for if they are to go onworking, they say? And so they drink and quarrel, and many are half thetime starving. One day they feast like princes, and the next they havenothing. Everything is for all, and all are equal, they say; but for mypart, I think it is rather take who can, and those who can't gowithout--no, no, we are a long way off the fine things they promise usyet.'

  "And she was so taken up with her own troubles that Pierre could not getfrom her any information as to how things had been going of late;whether many aristocrats had been seized, or whether many had fled. Heonly stopped her long list of grievances by saying he must go, andbegging her to direct him. She did so, and then reverting to his ownrisk, she again begged him to be careful.

  "`Return if you can, and tell me how you get on. But do not talk morethan you can help; above all, do not be persuaded to enter the tavernsand take wine.'

  "`I never take wine,' said Pierre.

  "`The more risk then if you did. It would go to your head, and youmight tell what is better untold. Good morning, little citizen,' shecalled out after him in a louder and rougher tone than was natural toher, but which Pierre understood to be for the benefit of a group ofdissipated-looking men in blouses, who came sauntering along, theirhands in their pockets, just at the moment.

  "He had no difficulty in finding his way to the Rue de Lille, nor, oncethere, in picking out, thanks to the exact landmarks Nanette had givenhim, the great wooden doors, or gates rather, enclosing the courtyard ofthe Hotel de Sarinet. Put even outside, in the street where he stood,he seemed to distinguish a deserted air about the place. At that earlyhour in the morning it would only have been natural for the doors tohave been open, to have seen some sweeping or cleaning going on inside,and have heard the cheerful sounds of grooms brushing down their horsesand rolling out the heavy carriages to be aired. But, on the contrary,there was no sound; all was appallingly silent, and the street itselfseemed like a place of the dead. There was no one of whom he could havemade inquiry, had he wished. So after an instant's hesitation Pierrelifted the heavy knocker attached to the little door leading into theporter's lodge, at the side of the great one, and let it fall with aloud rap. Then he waited; but there was no response, and again heknocked, again and yet again, waxing bolder with increasing anxiety, butalways in vain. And after what seemed to him a great length of time--inreality a quarter of an hour or so--spent in that dreary waiting, he hadat last to make up his mind to the fact, there was no one there--thehouse was entirely deserted! His first feeling was one of the bitterestdisappointment; he could have sat down on the rough bit of pavementbefore the doors and burst into tears! He had felt so sure of findingthem. His nature, hopeful like his mother's, did not prepare him forobstacles, and all through his journey he had been picturing to himselfhis arrival just in the nick of time to relieve the Countess's anxiety,and arrange for safely escorting her and her daughter through everydanger to Valmont! But with a few minutes' reflections came otherfeelings besides disappointment. Where were they? A shudder ranthrough Pierre as he thought where but too probably they were; probablyenough in one or other of the prisons, crowded with many as gentle, ashigh-bred and delicate as they; possibly--for even children of Edmee'sage had not been spared--possibly no longer alive; those innocent headsmight already have fallen under the cruel guillotine! And the boy feltsick with fear and horror. But still it was also possible that they hadescaped. The Countess had foreseen the danger, and spoken of plans forsafety. She might, it was even very likely that it was so, have carriedthem out, and be at this, moment in hiding and disguise somewhere, nearperhaps, in this great city of Paris!

  "Pierre's hope revived, but he looked up and down the deserted street inbewilderment. What could he do? whom could he ask? whither could he go?Just then a door on the opposite side opened cautiously, and a verydirty old woman poked out her head, looked this way and that, and thenemerged with a bucketful of rubbish--cabbage stalks, egg-shells, and thelike--which she emptied at the side of the gutter. She had not seenPierre, who was somewhat in shadow, but he saw her, and darted forward.

  "`Good morning, Mad--Citizeness,' he said quickly. `Can you by chancetell me whose house that is opposite,' and he pointed to the door wherehe had been knocking. `I was sent there, but it was a fool's errand, Ithink. No one will open.'

  "`No wonder!' said the hag, glancing at him suspiciously, but taking himfor some countrified lad new to Paris, as indeed he was. `No wonder!--there's no one there. Ah no, indeed, my lord the marquis will nevercome lashing his horses out of his courtyard again,' and she gave ashrill laugh, `nor will my fine lady the sour-faced Marquise comedriving by in her chariot. We've got it to ourself now! The grandhotels are to be had for low rents in this street,' and she turned to goin again. But Pierre, in his eagerness, caught her by the skirt, dirtyas it was.

  "`But where are the others then?' he sa
id. `There were other ladiesthere--not proud, or sour-faced either. You must have seen them if youlived here.'

  "`They're all gone, I tell you! Seen them? Yes, I daresay I did when Icame every day for the rubbish those wasteful servants threw about. Butit's our turn now--my son's and mine; we've got a fine hotel all toourselves, you see! Yes, they're all gone--here and there too. MadameGuillotine will tell you; she's the only Madame now!'

  "`Are they all _dead_?' said Pierre, in a voice he would hardly haveknown for his own, and which struck even the half-crazed old hag with asort of pity.

  "`How should I know?' she said. `And what does it matter? You're