V. The Wood-Sawyer
One year and three months. During all that time Lucie was neversure, from hour to hour, but that the Guillotine would strike off herhusband's head next day. Every day, through the stony streets, thetumbrils now jolted heavily, filled with Condemned. Lovely girls; brightwomen, brown-haired, black-haired, and grey; youths; stalwart men andold; gentle born and peasant born; all red wine for La Guillotine, alldaily brought into light from the dark cellars of the loathsome prisons,and carried to her through the streets to slake her devouring thirst.Liberty, equality, fraternity, or death;--the last, much the easiest tobestow, O Guillotine!
If the suddenness of her calamity, and the whirling wheels of the time,had stunned the Doctor's daughter into awaiting the result in idledespair, it would but have been with her as it was with many. But, fromthe hour when she had taken the white head to her fresh young bosom inthe garret of Saint Antoine, she had been true to her duties. She wastruest to them in the season of trial, as all the quietly loyal and goodwill always be.
As soon as they were established in their new residence, and her fatherhad entered on the routine of his avocations, she arranged the littlehousehold as exactly as if her husband had been there. Everything hadits appointed place and its appointed time. Little Lucie she taught,as regularly, as if they had all been united in their English home. Theslight devices with which she cheated herself into the show of a beliefthat they would soon be reunited--the little preparations for his speedyreturn, the setting aside of his chair and his books--these, and thesolemn prayer at night for one dear prisoner especially, among the manyunhappy souls in prison and the shadow of death--were almost the onlyoutspoken reliefs of her heavy mind.
She did not greatly alter in appearance. The plain dark dresses, akin tomourning dresses, which she and her child wore, were as neat and as wellattended to as the brighter clothes of happy days. She lost her colour,and the old and intent expression was a constant, not an occasional,thing; otherwise, she remained very pretty and comely. Sometimes, atnight on kissing her father, she would burst into the grief she hadrepressed all day, and would say that her sole reliance, under Heaven,was on him. He always resolutely answered: Nothing can happen to himwithout my knowledge, and I know that I can save him, Lucie.
They had not made the round of their changed life many weeks, when herfather said to her, on coming home one evening:
My dear, there is an upper window in the prison, to which Charles cansometimes gain access at three in the afternoon. When he can get toit--which depends on many uncertainties and incidents--he might see youin the street, he thinks, if you stood in a certain place that I canshow you. But you will not be able to see him, my poor child, and evenif you could, it would be unsafe for you to make a sign of recognition.
O show me the place, my father, and I will go there every day.
From that time, in all weathers, she waited there two hours. As theclock struck two, she was there, and at four she turned resignedly away.When it was not too wet or inclement for her child to be with her, theywent together; at other times she was alone; but, she never missed asingle day.
It was the dark and dirty corner of a small winding street. The hovelof a cutter of wood into lengths for burning, was the only house at thatend; all else was wall. On the third day of her being there, he noticedher.
Good day, citizeness.
Good day, citizen.
This mode of address was now prescribed by decree. It had beenestablished voluntarily some time ago, among the more thorough patriots;but, was now law for everybody.
Walking here again, citizeness?
You see me, citizen!
The wood-sawyer, who was a little man with a redundancy of gesture (hehad once been a mender of roads), cast a glance at the prison, pointedat the prison, and putting his ten fingers before his face to representbars, peeped through them jocosely.
But it's not my business, said he. And went on sawing his wood.
Next day he was looking out for her, and accosted her the moment sheappeared.
What? Walking here again, citizeness?
Yes, citizen.
Ah! A child too! Your mother, is it not, my little citizeness?
Do I say yes, mamma? whispered little Lucie, drawing close to her.
Yes, dearest.
Yes, citizen.
Ah! But it's not my business. My work is my business. See my saw! Icall it my Little Guillotine. La, la, la; La, la, la! And off his headcomes!
The billet fell as he spoke, and he threw it into a basket.
I call myself the Samson of the firewood guillotine. See here again!Loo, loo, loo; Loo, loo, loo! And off _her_ head comes! Now, a child.Tickle, tickle; Pickle, pickle! And off _its_ head comes. All thefamily!
Lucie shuddered as he threw two more billets into his basket, but it wasimpossible to be there while the wood-sawyer was at work, and not be inhis sight. Thenceforth, to secure his good will, she always spoke to himfirst, and often gave him drink-money, which he readily received.
He was an inquisitive fellow, and sometimes when she had quite forgottenhim in gazing at the prison roof and grates, and in lifting her heartup to her husband, she would come to herself to find him looking at her,with his knee on his bench and his saw stopped in its work. But it'snot my business! he would generally say at those times, and wouldbriskly fall to his sawing again.
In all weathers, in the snow and frost of winter, in the bitter winds ofspring, in the hot sunshine of summer, in the rains of autumn, and againin the snow and frost of winter, Lucie passed two hours of every day atthis place; and every day on leaving it, she kissed the prison wall.Her husband saw her (so she learned from her father) it might be once infive or six times: it might be twice or thrice running: it might be, notfor a week or a fortnight together. It was enough that he could and didsee her when the chances served, and on that possibility she would havewaited out the day, seven days a week.
These occupations brought her round to the December month, wherein herfather walked among the terrors with a steady head. On a lightly-snowingafternoon she arrived at the usual corner. It was a day of some wildrejoicing, and a festival. She had seen the houses, as she came along,decorated with little pikes, and with little red caps stuck upon them;also, with tricoloured ribbons; also, with the standard inscription(tricoloured letters were the favourite), Republic One and Indivisible.Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death!
The miserable shop of the wood-sawyer was so small, that its wholesurface furnished very indifferent space for this legend. He had gotsomebody to scrawl it up for him, however, who had squeezed Death inwith most inappropriate difficulty. On his house-top, he displayed pikeand cap, as a good citizen must, and in a window he had stationed hissaw inscribed as his Little Sainte Guillotine--for the great sharpfemale was by that time popularly canonised. His shop was shut and hewas not there, which was a relief to Lucie, and left her quite alone.
But, he was not far off, for presently she heard a troubled movementand a shouting coming along, which filled her with fear. A momentafterwards, and a throng of people came pouring round the corner by theprison wall, in the midst of whom was the wood-sawyer hand in hand withThe Vengeance. There could not be fewer than five hundred people, andthey were dancing like five thousand demons. There was no other musicthan their own singing. They danced to the popular Revolution song,keeping a ferocious time that was like a gnashing of teeth in unison.Men and women danced together, women danced together, men dancedtogether, as hazard had brought them together. At first, they were amere storm of coarse red caps and coarse woollen rags; but, as theyfilled the place, and stopped to dance about Lucie, some ghastlyapparition of a dance-figure gone raving mad arose among them. Theyadvanced, retreated, struck at one another's hands, clutched at oneanother's heads, spun round alone, caught one another and spun roundin pairs, until many of them dropped. While those were down, the restlinked hand in hand, and all spun round together: then the ring broke,and in separate rings of two and four they turned and turned until theyall stopped at once, began again, struck, clutched, and tore, and thenreversed the spin, and all spun round another way. Suddenly they stoppedagain, paused, struck out the time afresh, formed into lines the widthof the public way, and, with their heads low down and their hands highup, swooped screaming off. No fight could have been half so terribleas this dance. It was so emphatically a fallen sport--a something, onceinnocent, delivered over to all devilry--a healthy pastime changed intoa means of angering the blood, bewildering the senses, and steeling theheart. Such grace as was visible in it, made it the uglier, showing howwarped and perverted all things good by nature were become. The maidenlybosom bared to this, the pretty almost-child's head thus distracted, thedelicate foot mincing in this slough of blood and dirt, were types ofthe disjointed time.
This was the Carmagnole. As it passed, leaving Lucie frightened andbewildered in the doorway of the wood-sawyer's house, the feathery snowfell as quietly and lay as white and soft, as if it had never been.
O my father! for he stood before her when she lifted up the eyes shehad momentarily darkened with her hand; such a cruel, bad sight.
I know, my dear, I know. I have seen it many times. Don't befrightened! Not one of them would harm you.
I am not frightened for myself, my father. But when I think of myhusband, and the mercies of these people--
We will set him above their mercies very soon. I left him climbing tothe window, and I came to tell you. There is no one here to see. You maykiss your hand towards that highest shelving roof.
I do so, father, and I send him my Soul with it!
You cannot see him, my poor dear?
No, father, said Lucie, yearning and weeping as she kissed her hand,no.
A footstep in the snow. Madame Defarge. I salute you, citizeness,from the Doctor. I salute you, citizen. This in passing. Nothing more.Madame Defarge gone, like a shadow over the white road.
Give me your arm, my love. Pass from here with an air of cheerfulnessand courage, for his sake. That was well done; they had left the spot;it shall not be in vain. Charles is summoned for to-morrow.
For to-morrow!
There is no time to lose. I am well prepared, but there are precautionsto be taken, that could not be taken until he was actually summonedbefore the Tribunal. He has not received the notice yet, but I knowthat he will presently be summoned for to-morrow, and removed to theConciergerie; I have timely information. You are not afraid?
She could scarcely answer, I trust in you.
Do so, implicitly. Your suspense is nearly ended, my darling; he shallbe restored to you within a few hours; I have encompassed him with everyprotection. I must see Lorry.
He stopped. There was a heavy lumbering of wheels within hearing. Theyboth knew too well what it meant. One. Two. Three. Three tumbrils faringaway with their dread loads over the hushing snow.
I must see Lorry, the Doctor repeated, turning her another way.
The staunch old gentleman was still in his trust; had never left it. Heand his books were in frequent requisition as to property confiscatedand made national. What he could save for the owners, he saved. Nobetter man living to hold fast by what Tellson's had in keeping, and tohold his peace.
A murky red and yellow sky, and a rising mist from the Seine, denotedthe approach of darkness. It was almost dark when they arrived at theBank. The stately residence of Monseigneur was altogether blighted anddeserted. Above a heap of dust and ashes in the court, ran the letters:National Property. Republic One and Indivisible. Liberty, Equality,Fraternity, or Death!
Who could that be with Mr. Lorry--the owner of the riding-coat upon thechair--who must not be seen? From whom newly arrived, did he come out,agitated and surprised, to take his favourite in his arms? To whom didhe appear to repeat her faltering words, when, raising his voice andturning his head towards the door of the room from which he had issued,he said: Removed to the Conciergerie, and summoned for to-morrow?