Robert Tournay: A Romance of the French Revolution

by William Sage

  CHAPTER VI

  A MAN AND A MARQUIS

  Colonel Tournay accompanied the crowd of zealous Republicans who hadbeen the followers of Gardin, until he saw them dispersed to theirvarious homes or noisily installed in the wine-room of the village inn.Then he rapidly retraced his steps to the chateau.

  He found Mademoiselle Rochefort seated in the salon, contemplating halfmournfully, half disdainfully, the evidences of the mob's incursion,which surrounded her in the shape of costly pieces of furniture from thedrawing-room, now marred and broken; and bottles from the wine cellars,shattered and strewn upon the floor.

  She did not make any movement as Tournay entered the room, but seemedoccupied with her own thoughts; and for a few moments he stood insilence, hesitating to speak, as if the communication he had to makerequired more tact and diplomacy than for the moment he felt himselfmaster of.

  Finally, approaching her, he said: "Mademoiselle, the immediate dangeris past. You have nothing to fear for the present. As soon as you haverecovered sufficiently I would like to speak with you."

  She let her hand drop from her forehead and looked up at him. Her facewas very pale, but she was quite composed and the voice was firm withwhich she answered:--

  "I am able to hear you now, Robert Tournay."

  He drew a sigh of relief. "She has the de Rochefort spirit," he thought.

  "All is quiet now," he said. "But when Gardin fully recoversconsciousness I fear he will excite his followers to further violence.It will be unsafe for you to remain here." As she did not answer, hecontinued,--"I have made arrangements, mademoiselle, to conduct you tothe German frontier. Can you prepare to accompany me at once?"

  "I am prepared to leave here at once--but--I cannot go with you. It isbetter that I go alone," Mademoiselle de Rochefort replied.

  "Alone! It would be folly in you to attempt it. Do you suppose that Icould stand quietly by and see you incur such a danger?"

  Mademoiselle de Rochefort's eyes, at all other times so frank andfearless, did not meet his earnest gaze; she answered him hastily, asone who would have an unpleasant interview come to a speedy end:--

  "You have saved me from a great danger. Believe me, I am not ungrateful.You have already done too much. I cannot accept anything more from you.Pray leave me now to go my own way."

  "That is impossible, mademoiselle; I shall only leave you when you areacross the frontier. Traveling as my wife, under the passports that Ihave secured, the journey can be made in comparative safety, providedalways that we start in time."

  At the words "my wife" Mademoiselle de Rochefort started, but she onlyrepeated:--

  "I cannot go with you."

  "But," ejaculated Tournay, "I don't understand; it was agreed"--

  She looked up at him. "I agreed to permit you to tell those wretchesthat I was your wife, Father Ambrose, your father, and you, allprotesting that it was the only way to prevent them from destroying thechateau and those within it. But you also said that the marriage wouldnot be considered valid, and as soon as the danger was over you would goaway."

  "I said," answered Tournay quietly, "that I should in no way considerthe marriage valid; that when I had once taken you to a place of safetyI should leave you. But until then I shall remain by your side."

  "Some one said you would go away at once, either your father or thepriest, and so I yielded. Now you tell me I must go away with you,and"--she hesitated at the words, "be known as your wife."

  "But no one will know who you are," said Tournay earnestly. "Thecarriage will be a closed one--you shall have Agatha with you. No oneshall be allowed to intrude upon you. Three or four days will bring usto the frontier. As soon as you are there, and in the care of some ofyour friends who have already emigrated, I will leave you. Cannot youtrust me three days?" he asked sorrowfully.

  "I cannot go with you," she repeated. "You are of the Republic--I havealready accepted too much from your hands. Can I forget that those handswhich you now stretch out to aid me have helped to tear down a throne?that like all the Republicans, you share the guilt of a king's murder?"

  "I am only guilty of loving France more than the king. I did help todestroy a monarchy, but it was to build up a Republic."

  "Then, instead of aiding, you should denounce me. I am of the Monarchyand I hate your Republic," she said defiantly. "I will accept protectionfrom one of my own order or trust to God and my own efforts to preserveme."

  "Where are those of your own order?" demanded Tournay bitterly. "Theyare scattered like leaves. Some have taken refuge in England or inPrussia. Some are hiding here in France. Your own class fail you in thetime of need."

  "They do not fail," cried Edme. "If none are here it is because they arerisking their lives elsewhere for our unhappy and hopeless cause; orlanguishing in your Republican prisons where so many of the chivalry ofFrance lie awaiting death."

  As if the thought goaded her to desperation she added fiercely, "Where Iwill join them rather than purchase my freedom at the price youpropose."

  "Mademoiselle," said Tournay calmly but with great firmness, "listen toreason. There is no time for lengthy explanation. I am actuated only bya desire for your safety. You must accompany me hence. I shall take youaway with me."

  Edme arose and confronted him with a look of scorn. "I stood here ashort time ago," she said, "and before all that rabble heard myselfproclaimed your wife; I, Edme de Rochefort, called a wife of aRepublican--one of their number. Oh, the shame of it! What would myfather have said if he had heard that I owed my life to a man steeped inthe blood of the Revolution? That his daughter consented to be calledthe wife of her steward's son! a man of ignoble birth, a servant"--

  "Stop!" cried Tournay, the blood mounting to his forehead. "Stop! It istrue that those of my blood have served your family for generations. Itwas one of my blood, I have heard it told, who in days gone by gave uphis life for one of your ancestors upon the field of battle. Was thatignoble? My father served yours faithfully during a long life; was thatignoble? So have I, in my turn, served you. I was born to the position,but I served you proudly, not ignobly. In speaking thus, you wrongyourself more than you do me, mademoiselle."

  "STOP!" CRIED TOURNAY]

  The suddenness of his outburst silenced her. He saw that her bosomheaved convulsively. He could not guess the conflicting emotions in herbreast; her pride struggling with her gratitude; her horror anddetestation of the Republic contending with her admiration for his bravebearing in the face of danger; but as he looked at her, slight andgirlish, standing there before him with flushed cheeks, as he saw thefire flash in her eyes although her hands trembled, he realized keenlyhow young, how defenseless she was, and his sudden burst of angersubsided. Her very pride moved him to pity by its impotence, and hisheart yearned to be permitted to protect her from all the dangers whichthreatened her.

  In a voice that trembled with emotion he went on:--

  "Mademoiselle, I have known you since you were a child, and I haveserved you faithfully. Your wishes, your caprices have been my law. Itwas no galling servitude to me, mademoiselle, for mine was a service oflove." He uttered the last words almost in a whisper, then stoppedsuddenly, as if the avowal had slipped from his lips unwittingly.

  Mademoiselle de Rochefort started; while he spoke she had turned away;so he could not see her face, but he could imagine the look of disdainand scorn with which she had listened.

  "Yes, I dared to love you," he continued. "I never meant to tell you,but now that the avowal has slipped from my lips I would have you knowthat I always loved you. That is why I am here now, pleading with you,not for your love, for that I know never can be mine, but for yoursafety, your life." She remained silent, and he continued, speakingrapidly,--"You have said that a king's blood is upon my hands. His deathwas necessary and I do not regret it." Edme shuddered and lettingherself sink back into a chair sat there with her head resting on herhand, while she still kept her face turned from him. "I do not regretit, because it has given us the Republic. I glory
in the Republic whichhas made me your equal." Bending over her, he said in a low voice, "Ilove you and am worthy of your love. Mademoiselle, listen to me. Comewith me while there is yet time. Give me but the right to be yourprotector. I will protect you as the man guards the object of hispurest, his deepest affection." In his fervor he bent over her until hislips almost touched her hair. "I will win a name that even you will beproud to own. Edme, come with me. It is the love of years that speaks toyou thus--Come!" and he took her hand in his. As his fingers closed uponhers she sprang to her feet.

  "Do not touch me," she cried, with a tone almost of terror. "I will hearno more. I cannot bear it. I cannot bear to see you. Go! for the love ofheaven, leave me."

  For a moment Tournay stood still. Her words wounded him to the quick,yet as they stabbed deepest, he loved her the more. Without speakingagain he turned and left her. As he descended the stairs and passed outthrough the broken doorway he vowed within himself that despite herpride, despite what she might say or do, he would yet find means tosave her.

  An hour passed, and Edme remained in the salon where Tournay had lefther. The spirit she had shown a short time before seemed much subdued.Darkness had settled down over the room, and she felt herself alone anddeserted. A current of air, coming through the broken doorway, swept upthe stairs into the apartment, chilling her with its cold breath. Shewondered what had become of Father Ambrose and old Matthieu, and whetherAgatha had deserted her. Yet she did not seek for them. Indeed, she didnot know where to find them, for the house had all the silence ofemptiness.

  She tried to plan what she should do in case she had been entirelyabandoned, but her brain, usually so active, seemed benumbed. She couldnot think. Conscious that she must shake off this feeling ofhelplessness, she was about to rise and go in search of a light, whenshe heard a footstep outside in the corridor. "Agatha has come back,"she thought, and stepped forward to meet her maid. The sound offootsteps approached until they reached the door of the salon; therethey seemed to hesitate.

  Edme was on the point of calling Agatha by name, when the door waspushed open and a man entered and passed stealthily across the floor ofthe salon into the ante-chamber without noticing her presence. Edmethrust her hand over her mouth to stifle the cry that was upon herlips.

  The man was evidently familiar with the surroundings, for almostimmediately the light of a candle shone out from the ante-room, throwinga faint glow upon the polished floor of the salon. Edme had seen himvery imperfectly in the darkness. She was uncertain whether he was oneof the mob, returned alone for plunder, or one of the lackeys of herhousehold who had got the better of his terror and returned to thechateau.

  Unable to bear the suspense, she advanced toward the door of theante-room. Her heart beat rapidly as she placed her hand upon the door,which had been left ajar. She hesitated one moment, then summoning upthe courage that had sustained her during the whole of that terribleafternoon, she boldly pushed the door open and looked into the room. Toher amazement she saw, bending over a cabinet, her cousin, the Marquisde Lacheville. The marquis held a candle in one hand while he searchedhurriedly for something in the drawer of the cabinet. In his haste andanxiety he threw out the contents of each drawer as he opened it tillthe floor was littered with papers. So intent was he upon his searchthat he did not hear Edme's approach.

  "Monsieur de Lacheville!" she said in a low tone. Upon hearing his name,the marquis uttered a cry like that of a hunted animal, and turning,confronted her.

  "Mademoiselle de Rochefort, you here! How you startled me!" heexclaimed, endeavoring to control himself; but his knees shook, and hislips twitched nervously.

  "Your coming gave me a start also, monsieur. You glided across the floorof the salon so like a phantom, I did not know who it was, nor what tothink."

  "I have just arrived from Paris, where I have been in hiding formonths," he stammered. "Upon seeing the doors all battered down and thefrightful disorder in the lower halls, I thought the chateau must bedeserted and that you had sought some place of refuge. Knowing that intimes past the baron, your father, was in the habit of keeping money inthis old secretary, I have been ransacking it from top to bottom. I haveneed of a considerable sum; but I find nothing here--not a sou."

  Edme noticed that his dress was in great disorder and that his face waspale and haggard. Every few moments he put up his hand in an attempt tostop the nervous twitching of the mouth which he seemed unable tocontrol.

  "My nerves have been much shaken lately," he said, as she looked at himwith wonder. And then he laughed discordantly. The sound of themirthless laughter, accompanied by no change in the expression of hisface, was painful to Edme's ears.

  "I have been pursued," he said, "hunted in Paris like a dog, but I havegiven them the slip; they shall not overtake me now." The wild look inhis eyes became more intense. "I am going to leave France; I have afriend whom I can trust waiting for me near at hand. Together indisguise we are going to the frontier--either to Belgium or Germany. Weshall be safe there. But I must have some more money, money for ourjourney." His fear had so bereft him of his reason that he apparentlyforgot the presence of his cousin, the mistress of the house, and turnedonce more to the old writing-desk to recommence his search with feverishhaste.

  "To Germany!" cried Edme joyfully. "You are going to Germany? then youcan take me with you. We can leave this unhappy blood-stained countryfor a land of law and order."

  The marquis turned upon her sharply.

  "Why did not your father take you with him to England?" he demanded.

  "Why? You have no need to ask the question. He went upon some secretbusiness for King Louis. He went away unexpectedly. When he left heimagined that I, a woman, living in quiet seclusion, would be perfectlysafe, notwithstanding the disordered state of the country even at thattime."

  "Can you not find a place of refuge with some friend here in France?"asked de Lacheville. "The journey I am about to undertake will be fullof danger and fatigue."

  "I am not afraid of danger," replied Edme, "and as for fatigue, I amstrong and able to support it."

  "But," persisted de Lacheville, "if you could find some suitable refugehere it would be so much better."

  "I cannot," retorted Edme, in a decided tone of voice, "and I prefer toaccompany you to Germany, although it seems to me that you offer yourescort somewhat reluctantly."

  "The fact is, Cousin Edme," replied the marquis, "I cannot take you withme. Alone, my escape will be difficult; with you it will be impossible."

  Edme looked at him for a moment with open-eyed wonder, then she repeatedthe word. "Impossible! Do you mean to tell me that you, a kinsman, aregoing to leave me here to meet whatever fate may befall me, while yousave yourself by flight?"

  "No, no, you do not understand me," the marquis replied, his pale faceflushing. "It is for your own sake that I cannot take you. It will meanalmost certain capture. If, as I said before, you could remain in someplace of safety in France for a little while"--

  "I am ready to run whatever risk you do," replied the girl coolly. "Whendo you start?"

  "Mademoiselle, this is madness," exclaimed de Lacheville, pacing thefloor. "Can you not listen to reason?"

  The sound of shouting in the distance caused him to stop suddenly andrun to the window. The candle had burned down to the socket and went outwith a few last feeble flickers. The cries of Gardin's ruffians wereborne to him on the wind.

  The slight composure which he had managed to regain during his talk withEdme left him again, and he turned toward her, the trembling, shakingcoward that he was when she had first discovered him.

  "Do you hear that?" he whispered, his hand shaking as he put it to hislips.

  "I have heard it in this very room to-day," replied Edme, looking at himwith disdain.

  "They are coming here again," he whispered hoarsely. "But they shall notfind me," he exclaimed fiercely, clenching his fist and shaking it in aweak menace toward the spot whence the sound came. "I have a swift horsein the courtyard beneath.
In an hour I shall be safe from them," and heprepared to leave the room.

  The ordeal of the afternoon had told on Edme's nerves and the thought ofbeing left alone again made her desperate.

  "You shall not leave me here alone," she cried, seizing his arm. "Youwere born a man--behave like one. Devise some means to take me from thisplace at once. Do not leave me alone to face those wretches again, or Ishall believe you are a coward."

  De Lacheville roughly released himself from her grasp.

  "I care not what you think of me," he snarled. "It is each for himself.I cannot imperil my safety for a woman. I must escape." And he rushedfrom the room.

  She heard the crunching of his horses' feet upon the gravel, and goingto the window saw him ride rapidly away. The remembrance of the youngRepublican leader offering to risk his life for her, and the coweringfigure of her cousin, indifferent to all but his own safety, flashedbefore her in quick contrast. She turned away from the window to findherself in the arms of Agatha, who had at that moment returned.

  "Agatha," she exclaimed, "do your hear those hoof-beats? Monsieur deLacheville is running away. He, a nobleman, is a coward and flies fromdanger, while another man, a Republican--oh, Agatha, Agatha, what are weto do? whom are we to believe; in whom should we trust?"

  "Calm yourself, mademoiselle," replied Agatha, "and think only of what Ihave to tell you. Listen to me closely. We must leave at once. I have aplan of flight. I have been making a few hurried preparations."

  "True, Agatha, in my bewilderment and anger, I forgot for the moment thedanger we incur by remaining here. Where are Father Ambrose andMatthieu?"

  "Matthieu is here in the chateau; he says he will never desert you aslong as you can have need of his poor services. Father Ambrose hasdisappeared, but I think he is in a place of safety. But now you are tobe thought of. Will you trust me?"

  "How can you ask that, Agatha? Have you not always proved faithful?"

  "I mean, can you trust me to lead, and will you follow and be guided bymy suggestions?"

  "I will do just as you may direct. I know you have a wise head, Agatha."

  "This is my plan, then," continued the maid; "listen carefully while Itell it to you."

  An hour later the two women, dressed as peasants, with faces and handsbrown from apparent exposure to the sun in the hayfield, left the parkbehind the chateau de Rochefort, and made their way along a hedge-boundlane that wound through the fields. As they reached the crest of a hillthey stopped and looked back at the chateau. A red glow appeared in theeastern sky.

  "Look, Agatha," said Edme, "morning is coming, the sun is about torise."

  Suddenly the glow leaped into a broad flame which lit up the whole sky.

  "'Tis the chateau on fire!" cried both women in one breath, and clingingto each other they stood and watched it burn.