Vingt ans après. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  47. The Riot.

  It was about eleven o'clock at night. Gondy had not walked a hundredsteps ere he perceived the strange change which had been made in thestreets of Paris.

  The whole city seemed peopled with fantastic beings; silent shadows wereseen unpaving the streets and others dragging and upsetting greatwagons, whilst others again dug ditches large enough to ingulf wholeregiments of horsemen. These active beings flitted here and there likeso many demons completing some unknown labor; these were the beggars ofthe Court of Miracles--the agents of the giver of holy water in theSquare of Saint Eustache, preparing barricades for the morrow.

  Gondy gazed on these deeds of darkness, on these nocturnal laborers,with a kind of fear; he asked himself, if, after having called forththese foul creatures from their dens, he should have the power of makingthem retire again. He felt almost inclined to cross himself when one ofthese beings happened to approach him. He reached the Rue Saint Honoreand went up it toward the Rue de la Ferronnerie; there the aspectchanged; here it was the tradesmen who were running from shop to shop;their doors seemed closed like their shutters, but they were only pushedto in such a manner as to open and allow the men, who seemed fearful ofshowing what they carried, to enter, closing immediately. These men wereshopkeepers, who had arms to lend to those who had none.

  One individual went from door to door, bending under the weight ofswords, guns, muskets and every kind of weapon, which he deposited asfast as he could. By the light of a lantern the coadjutor recognizedPlanchet.

  The coadjutor proceeded onward to the quay by way of the Rue de laMonnaie; there he found groups of bourgeois clad in black cloaks orgray, according as they belonged to the upper or lower bourgeoisie. Theywere standing motionless, while single men passed from one group toanother. All these cloaks, gray or black, were raised behind by thepoint of a sword, or before by the barrel of an arquebuse or a musket.

  On reaching the Pont Neuf the coadjutor found it strictly guarded and aman approached him.

  "Who are you?" asked the man. "I do not know you for one of us."

  "Then it is because you do not know your friends, my dear MonsieurLouvieres," said the coadjutor, raising his hat.

  Louvieres recognized him and bowed.

  Gondy continued his way and went as far as the Tour de Nesle. There hesaw a lengthy chain of people gliding under the walls. They might besaid to be a procession of ghosts, for they were all wrapped in whitecloaks. When they reached a certain spot these men appeared to beannihilated, one after the other, as if the earth had opened under theirfeet. Gondy, edged into a corner, saw them vanish from the first untilthe last but one. The last raised his eyes, to ascertain, doubtless,that neither his companions nor himself had been watched, and, in spiteof the darkness, he perceived Gondy. He walked straight up to him andplaced a pistol to his throat.

  "Halloo! Monsieur de Rochefort," said Gondy, laughing, "are you a boy toplay with firearms?"

  Rochefort recognized the voice.

  "Ah, it is you, my lord!" said he.

  "The very same. What people are you leading thus into the bowels of theearth?"

  "My fifty recruits from the Chevalier d'Humieres, who are destined toenter the light cavalry and who have only received as yet for theirequipment their white cloaks."

  "And where are you going?"

  "To the house of one of my friends, a sculptor, only we enter by thetrap through which he lets down his marble."

  "Very good," said Gondy, shaking Rochefort by the hand, who descended inhis turn and closed the trap after him.

  It was now one o'clock in the morning and the coadjutor returned home.He opened a window and leaned out to listen. A strange,incomprehensible, unearthly sound seemed to pervade the whole city; onefelt that something unusual and terrible was happening in all thestreets, now dark as ocean's most unfathomable caves. From time to timea dull sound was heard, like that of a rising tempest or a billow of thesea; but nothing clear, nothing distinct, nothing intelligible; it waslike those mysterious subterraneous noises that precede an earthquake.

  The work of revolt continued the whole night thus. The next morning, onawaking, Paris seemed to be startled at her own appearance. It was likea besieged town. Armed men, shouldering muskets, watched over thebarricades with menacing looks; words of command, patrols, arrests,executions, even, were encountered at every step. Those bearing plumedhats and gold swords were stopped and made to cry, "Long live Broussel!""Down with Mazarin!" and whoever refused to comply with this ceremonywas hooted at, spat upon and even beaten. They had not yet begun toslay, but it was well felt that the inclination to do so was notwanting.

  The barricades had been pushed as far as the Palais Royal. From the Ruede Bons Enfants to that of the Ferronnerie, from the Rue SaintThomas-du-Louvre to the Pont Neuf, from the Rue Richelieu to the PorteSaint Honore, there were more than ten thousand armed men; those whowere at the front hurled defiance at the impassive sentinels of theregiment of guards posted around the Palais Royal, the gates of whichwere closed behind them, a precaution which made their situationprecarious. Among these thousands moved, in bands numbering from onehundred to two hundred, pale and haggard men, clothed in rags, who borea sort of standard on which was inscribed these words: "Behold themisery of the people!" Wherever these men passed, frenzied cries wereheard; and there were so many of these bands that the cries were to beheard in all directions.

  The astonishment of Mazarin and of Anne of Austria was great when it wasannounced to them that the city, which the previous evening they hadleft entirely tranquil, had awakened to such feverish commotion; norwould either the one or the other believe the reports that were broughtto them, declaring they would rather rely on the evidence of their owneyes and ears. Then a window was opened and when they saw and heard theywere convinced.

  Mazarin shrugged his shoulders and pretended to despise the populace;but he turned visibly pale and ran to his closet, trembling all over,locked up his gold and jewels in his caskets and put his finest diamondson his fingers. As for the queen, furious, and left to her own guidance,she went for the Marechal de la Meilleraie and desired him to take asmany men as he pleased and to go and see what was the meaning of thispleasantry.

  The marshal was ordinarily very adventurous and was wont to hesitate atnothing; and he had that lofty contempt for the populace which armyofficers usually profess. He took a hundred and fifty men and attemptedto go out by the Pont du Louvre, but there he met Rochefort and hisfifty horsemen, attended by more than five hundred men. The marshal madeno attempt to force that barrier and returned up the quay. But at PontNeuf he found Louvieres and his bourgeois. This time the marshalcharged, but he was welcomed by musket shots, while stones fell likehail from all the windows. He left there three men.

  He beat a retreat toward the market, but there he met Planchet with hishalberdiers; their halberds were leveled at him threateningly. Heattempted to ride over those gray cloaks, but the gray cloaks held theirground and the marshal retired toward the Rue Saint Honore, leaving fourof his guards dead on the field of battle.

  The marshal then entered the Rue Saint Honore, but there he was opposedby the barricades of the mendicant of Saint Eustache. They were guarded,not only by armed men, but even by women and children. Master Friquet,the owner of a pistol and of a sword which Louvieres had given him, hadorganized a company of rogues like himself and was making a tremendousracket.

  The marshal thought this barrier not so well fortified as the others anddetermined to break through it. He dismounted twenty men to make abreach in the barricade, whilst he and others, remaining on theirhorses, were to protect the assailants. The twenty men marched straighttoward the barrier, but from behind the beams, from among thewagon-wheels and from the heights of the rocks a terrible fusilladeburst forth and at the same time Planchet's halberdiers appeared at thecorner of the Cemetery of the Innocents, and Louvieres's bourgeois atthe corner of the Rue de la Monnaie.

  The Marechal de la Meilleraie was caught between two fires, bu
t he wasbrave and made up his mind to die where he was. He returned blow forblow and cries of pain began to be heard in the crowd. The guards, moreskillful, did greater execution; but the bourgeois, more numerous,overwhelmed them with a veritable hurricane of iron. Men fell around himas they had fallen at Rocroy or at Lerida. Fontrailles, hisaide-de-camp, had an arm broken; his horse had received a bullet in hisneck and he had difficulty in controlling him, maddened by pain. Inshort, he had reached that supreme moment when the bravest feel ashudder in their veins, when suddenly, in the direction of the Rue del'Arbre-Sec, the crowd opened, crying: "Long live the coadjutor!" andGondy, in surplice and cloak, appeared, moving tranquilly in the midstof the fusillade and bestowing his benedictions to the right and left,as undisturbed as if he were leading a procession of the Fete Dieu.

  All fell to their knees. The marshal recognized him and hastened to meethim.

  "Get me out of this, in Heaven's name!" he said, "or I shall leave mycarcass here and those of all my men."

  A great tumult arose, in the midst of which even the noise of thundercould not have been heard. Gondy raised his hand and demanded silence.All were still.

  "My children," he said, "this is the Marechal de la Meilleraie, as towhose intentions you have been deceived and who pledges himself, onreturning to the Louvre, to demand of the queen, in your name, ourBroussel's release. You pledge yourself to that, marshal?" added Gondy,turning to La Meilleraie.

  "Morbleu!" cried the latter, "I should say that I do pledge myself toit! I had no hope of getting off so easily."

  "He gives you his word of honor," said Gondy.

  The marshal raised his hand in token of assent.

  "Long live the coadjutor!" cried the crowd. Some voices even added:"Long live the marshal!" But all took up the cry in chorus: "Down withMazarin!"

  The crowd gave place, the barricade was opened, and the marshal, withthe remnant of his company, retreated, preceded by Friquet and hisbandits, some of them making a presence of beating drums and othersimitating the sound of the trumpet. It was almost a triumphalprocession; only, behind the guards the barricades were closed again.The marshal bit his fingers.

  In the meantime, as we have said, Mazarin was in his closet, putting hisaffairs in order. He called for D'Artagnan, but in the midst of suchtumult he little expected to see him, D'Artagnan not being on service.In about ten minutes D'Artagnan appeared at the door, followed by theinseparable Porthos.

  "Ah, come in, come in, Monsieur d'Artagnan!" cried the cardinal, "andwelcome your friend too. But what is going on in this accursed Paris?"

  "What is going on, my lord? nothing good," replied D'Artagnan, shakinghis head. "The town is in open revolt, and just now, as I was crossingthe Rue Montorgueil with Monsieur du Vallon, who is here, and is yourhumble servant, they wanted in spite of my uniform, or perhaps becauseof my uniform, to make us cry 'Long live Broussel!' and must I tell you,my lord what they wished us to cry as well?"

  "Speak, speak."

  "'Down with Mazarin!' I'faith, the treasonable word is out."

  Mazarin smiled, but became very pale.

  "And you did cry?" he asked.

  "I'faith, no," said D'Artagnan; "I was not in voice; Monsieur du Vallonhas a cold and did not cry either. Then, my lord----"

  "Then what?" asked Mazarin.

  "Look at my hat and cloak."

  And D'Artagnan displayed four gunshot holes in his cloak and two in hisbeaver. As for Porthos's coat, a blow from a halberd had cut it open onthe flank and a pistol shot had cut his feather in two.

  "Diavolo!" said the cardinal, pensively gazing at the two friends withlively admiration; "I should have cried, I should."

  At this moment the tumult was heard nearer.

  Mazarin wiped his forehead and looked around him. He had a great desireto go to the window, but he dared not.

  "See what is going on, Monsieur D'Artagnan," said he.

  D'Artagnan went to the window with his habitual composure. "Oho!" saidhe, "what is this? Marechal de la Meilleraie returning without ahat--Fontrailles with his arm in a sling--wounded guards--horsesbleeding; eh, then, what are the sentinels about? They are aiming--theyare going to fire!"

  "They have received orders to fire on the people if the people approachthe Palais Royal!" exclaimed Mazarin.

  "But if they fire, all is lost!" cried D'Artagnan.

  "We have the gates."

  "The gates! to hold for five minutes--the gates, they will be torn down,twisted into iron wire, ground to powder! God's death, don't fire!"screamed D'Artagnan, throwing open the window.

  In spite of this recommendation, which, owing to the noise, couldscarcely have been heard, two or three musket shots resounded, succeededby a terrible discharge. The balls might be heard peppering the facadeof the Palais Royal, and one of them, passing under D'Artagnan's arm,entered and broke a mirror, in which Porthos was complacently admiringhimself.

  "Alack! alack!" cried the cardinal, "a Venetian glass!"

  "Oh, my lord," said D'Artagnan, quietly shutting the window, "it is notworth while weeping yet, for probably an hour hence there will not beone of your mirrors remaining in the Palais Royal, whether they beVenetian or Parisian."

  "But what do you advise, then?" asked Mazarin, trembling.

  "Eh, egad, to give up Broussel as they demand! What the devil do youwant with a member of the parliament? He is of no earthly use toanybody."

  "And you, Monsieur du Vallon, is that your advice? What would you do?"

  "I should give up Broussel," said Porthos.

  "Come, come with me, gentlemen!" exclaimed Mazarin. "I will go anddiscuss the matter with the queen."

  He stopped at the end of the corridor and said:

  "I can count upon you, gentlemen, can I not?"

  "We do not give ourselves twice over," said D'Artagnan; "we have givenourselves to you; command, we shall obey."

  "Very well, then," said Mazarin; "enter this cabinet and wait till Icome back."

  And turning off he entered the drawing-room by another door.