“No.” He fell to his knees, scarcely noticing the jolt of pain in his leg. “Vienna’s too far away. You know I can’t bear to be away from you. I beg you to reconsider.”
His mother turned away. “I’ll expect you gone by morning.” She moved to the archway leading to the stairs. “Good-bye, Raoul.”
He scrambled to his feet again. He wasn’t going to be able to persuade her. She was sending him away and this time she would not let him come back.
“Mother!” The word was a howl of agony.
She looked back over her shoulder with a frown. “Don’t be difficult, Raoul. You know what happens when you become—”
The front door burst open.
“Citizen Dupree?” An officer in the uniform of the National Guard strode into the room, followed by four soldiers. “You’re to come with us. You’re under arrest.”
“By whose order?” Dupree gazed at him numbly, scarcely able to comprehend the man’s words.
She was sending him away.
“How dare you barge into my home?” Anne Dupree asked coldly. “Whatever my son has done, I’m a loyal citizen of the republic.”
“That will be decided by Citizen Robespierre. He’s waiting in the carriage outside.”
She would never permit him near her again.
“I’ll not go,” Anne Dupree said. “Raoul, tell him he’s not to force me to—”
But Dupree was being hustled through the front doorway by two soldiers. She reluctantly followed him out of the cottage to the waiting carriage.
Icy rage froze Robespierre’s delicate features into a menacing mask as he stepped down onto the cobblestones from the carriage. “I’m a just man. Because of your past service to the republic I give you one chance to defend yourself before I condemn you. You’re Raoul Dupree, Marat’s former agent?”
“Yes,” Raoul said dully.
He would never see her again.
“And you conspired to free Louis Charles Capet and lay the blame at my door?”
“Free? No, I killed him.”
“Lies. We know you smuggled him from the city and even now he’s on his way to Le Havre.” Robespierre pulled out a familiar-looking paper. “Do you deny you gave this writ to Citizeness Simon with my name forged upon it giving custody of the boy to you?”
“I killed him. He’s in the laundry wagon in the alley behind your lodgings.”
“I was told by your whore how you smuggled the boy out of the Temple but no body was found in the wagon.” Robespierre’s hand tightened on the writ. “Where is the boy?”
“Dead.”
“You’re thinking to destroy me by linking me with the monarchists who want to free the boy, but you’ll not succeed.” Robespierre’s voice rose shrilly. “Do you hear me? You won’t succeed. I’ll send you to the guillotine tonight.” He pointed to a horse-drawn tumbril rumbling out of the fog. “That cart will take you to the guillotine. Why do you not speak? Do you think I lack the power to deny you a trial before the tribunal?”
Why was Robespierre shouting? Didn’t he know that none of it mattered any longer? “No, I know you have the power.”
“I’ll cut off your head and have you tossed in a common grave with the other traitors who seek to destroy me.”
“Citizen Robespierre, may I go back in the house?” Anne Dupree asked politely. “It’s quite cold tonight and none of this concerns me. I’m only Raoul’s mother. I’ve scarcely seen him for years until he came to me tonight begging me to hide him. Naturally, I was about to refuse when your soldier—”
“You’re his mother?” Robespierre interrupted, his gaze shifting to her face. “Yes, Dupree’s whore mentioned your name as well. I find it strange that he’d run to you after this treason if you had no part in it.”
“I told you, he wished me to hide him. In spite of his faults, I’ve always been a loving mother.”
Death.
“Is that right, Dupree?”
A common grave.
She nervously cleared her throat. “Tell him the truth, Raoul.”
Together.
She was frightened. He must save her. It was his duty to serve her, to save her.
Then it came to him, the solution bursting upon him with an effulgence that filled the entire world.
His mother took a step closer to him. “Why don’t you speak? Tell Citizen Robespierre I’m innocent.”
Why hadn’t he understood before? Dupree wondered. She had told him over and over through the years. She had knelt at his feet and told him what she wanted, what they both wanted.
And now, at last, he could give it to her.
“I can’t tell him that, Mother. It’s not true.”
Her eyes bulged. “Raoul!”
He turned to Robespierre. “Of course my mother knew. She guides me in everything I do.”
“Raoul!”
Dupree turned to his mother and smiled lovingly. “It’s going to be fine, Mother. Don’t be afraid. Don’t you see? Remember what you begged of me?” His voice suddenly became high and simpering. “ ‘Promise me we’ll always be together, Raoul.’ That’s what you’ve always asked of me. Now it can be true. Now we’ll be together. Always.”
He could vaguely hear her screaming as the soldiers led them away toward the tumbril that had drawn up behind Robespierre’s carriage. Poor Mother. She didn’t understand yet, but she would afterward.
A smile still on his lips, he stepped into the tumbril and waited for them to bring his mother to join him.
10:47 P.M.
Nana turned away from the guillotine and made her way quickly through the sparse crowd in the Place de la Révolution. With the guillotine working day and night these last months, beheadings had become too common to draw large crowds. Unless the victim was someone of fame or high noble rank, the executioner’s work went virtually unnoticed except by a small group of the morbid and fanatic.
She moved quickly down the street, drawing her cloak closely about her, the guillotine and its few acolytes disappearing into the fog behind her. She had come to witness the execution of Dupree so that she might be free of the ugliness he had brought into her life. But the fear and ugliness seemed to corrode her soul—and what she had just witnessed had only added to her sense of horror.
She doubted she would ever forget Dupree’s joyful, loving smile as they had decapitated Anne Dupree.
11:55 P.M.
“Dupree?” François asked Nana as soon as she entered Monsieur Radon’s small house on the right bank of the Seine.
“Guillotined,” she said succinctly.
“You’re sure?”
“I watched it. I had to be sure.” Nana turned to the little boy who sat on the sofa next to Catherine. “Are you ready for your journey, Louis Charles?”
“Oh, yes, this is all most interesting.” The child’s blue eyes blazed with excitement as he leaned his head against Catherine’s shoulder. “Catherine says I’m to go to America, but she’s not sure if they still have savages in Charleston.”
“Well, if they don’t, I’m sure Juliette will find something of equal interest for you to see. She may even go searching for savages herself to paint.” Catherine smiled gently at him. “You’ll have a good life there, Louis Charles.”
“I wish you were going with me,” the boy whispered. “I’ll miss you, Catherine.”
“Perhaps you’ll be able to come back someday.” Catherine pressed a kiss on his forehead. “Or maybe we’ll come to Charleston to visit you.”
“But not now?”
“There are many people François still needs to help. Our place is here, Louis Charles.” Catherine felt an aching sympathy for the little boy. He no sooner formed an attachment than it was severed. “Believe me, you’ll learn to love Juliette and Jean Marc.”
Louis Charles was silent for a long time. “I wanted to meet Michel.”
“Someday.” Catherine thought a moment. “You could write to him. Michel would love to get letters from across the sea.”
/> “Would he correspond with me?”
“I’m sure he would. But you’ll have to be very careful what you say.”
“I’m used to that.” Louis Charles expression brightened. “Letters …”
Jean Marc came in the front door, his gaze going at once to François. “All safe?”
François nodded at the boy. “All safe.”
Jean Marc smiled at Louis Charles. “I’m Jean Marc Andreas, and I’m delighted to meet you.”
“Monsieur Andreas.” Louis Charles stiffly inclined his head. “It’s very kind of you to help me.”
Jean Marc lifted a brow at the child’s formality and turned to Nana. His amusement was replaced by seriousness. “Dupree didn’t give you any hint what he intended for Juliette?”
She stiffened. “Of course not. Do you think I’d let her walk into a trap? What kind of—”
“Wait.” Jean Marc held up his hand. “I’m not accusing you. I think you’ve done splendidly. We simply didn’t expect him to strike at us today. We thought he’d wait until after the business at the Temple.” He paused. “Juliette is outside saying good-bye to Robert and Marie. They’re taking a wagon with some of our belongings to Vasaro. I understand you’re to go with them.”
“What?” Nana’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m not going anywhere. No, absolutely not. I don’t wish to leave Paris.”
“It’s not safe for you here now,” François said quietly. “Robespierre is going to be in a panic when he doesn’t find the boy at Le Havre. He may have let you go tonight, but tomorrow he’ll start with a vengeance to rout out all who might have had a part in the boy’s escape. I’m sure he’s already sent men to the Temple to pick up Pirard, and the National Guard may be at the Café du Chat waiting for you.”
“Good, then they’ll pick up that bastard Raymond. I could scarcely tolerate him these last weeks.” Nana scowled. “Dieu, I hate the country. Can’t I go to Marseilles? It’s not Paris, but at least there will be people.”
“It’s only for a little while,” Catherine said. “And you may like Vasaro better than you think. When it’s safe for you to come back, we’ll send for you immediately.”
Nana hesitated, then shrugged wearily and turned. “Very well. I suppose it doesn’t matter.” She walked out the front door.
“She didn’t argue as much as I thought she would.” François frowned. “And she doesn’t look well.”
“How do you expect her to look? She’s borne the brunt of Dupree’s malice for the last few weeks,” Jean Marc said.
François nodded. “But she said he did nothing to hurt her.”
“We shouldn’t have believed her,” Catherine said. Nana had done so much for them. François had told her how Nana had suspected Raymond Jordaneau of being the traitor in the group and had contacted the Comte de Provence supposedly to ally herself with him in order to verify Raymond’s guilt. When Dupree had appeared on the scene she had insisted it was her place to turn Dupree’s plan against himself. Well, she had done it. But at what cost to herself they would probably never know. “Dupree managed to hurt all of us. Why should she have been different?”
“Dupree’s dead, Jean Marc,” François said quietly. “Nana saw him guillotined.”
“Thank God.” Jean Marc’s lips tightened. “I wanted to slice him into pieces myself this afternoon when I saw Juliette in that armoire.”
“You know you couldn’t do that. We would never have been able to get the boy out of the Temple without Dupree’s help,” François said. “Nana’s sent a message to the Comte de Provence saying the boy is dead. The count’s assassins won’t be searching for him. Robespierre won’t be able to make an overt search because he’ll not be sure if there’s any other evidence linking him to the escape. It was the best possible plan and you were right to play dead until Dupree left the lodgings.”
“You can say that now.” Juliette came into the room and smiled ruefully at Jean Marc. “But Jean Marc nearly frightened me to death. How could I be sure Dupree had used the same potion that Nana had switched? You were entirely too convincing, Jean Marc.” She turned to Louis Charles. “How do you do? My name is Juliette.”
“Hello.” Louis Charles drew closer to Catherine. “Catherine says you knew my maman.”
“Very well.” Juliette smiled. “And you too. You liked me very much at one time. Of course, you were too young to have very good taste, but I’m sure I’ve improved since then. Did Catherine tell you how we’re going to get past the barriers and out of Paris?”
“Yes.” His expression was suddenly eager. “What a splendid idea.”
“I think so too. You’ll find Jean Marc is always very clever.” She turned to Jean Marc. “Why don’t you take him out in the garden and show it to him?”
Jean Marc looked inquiringly at the child.
Louis Charles straightened away from Catherine. “I’d like very much to see it, please.”
“I believe I’ll go too,” François said. “It’s time we lit the fire.”
Catherine nodded, her gaze fixed on Juliette. A moment later the two men and the little boy hurried out the back door.
Silence settled on the room. The two women looked at each other.
“Jean Marc says it may not be safe for us to return for a very long time,” Juliette finally said. “I wish you were going with us.”
Catherine shook her head. “You know that’s not possible.”
“I know.” Juliette blinked back the tears. “François wishes to save all of France. I don’t know why I encouraged you to love such a paragon of virtue. A man of ideals is much harder to live with than a roué like Philippe.”
Catherine laughed. “François is no paragon of virtue.”
“What is he, then?”
“Joy, strength,” Catherine said softly. “Gentleness.”
Juliette averted her gaze. “When will you return to Vasaro?”
“When there are no more battles to fight. When we’ve earned our garden.”
“I’ve changed my mind. It’s you who have become the paragon of virtue.” Juliette came toward her across the room. “Now I know I shouldn’t leave you. You and François will probably become martyrs.” She grimaced. “Or the most pompous of prigs. Either way, you clearly need me at hand to prick your consequence.”
Catherine rose to her feet. “Juliette, stop talking nonsense and let me tell you how much I shall miss you.”
“You always were overly sentimental. I refuse to turn this into a tearful parting. It’s not forever, you know. What’s an ocean between friends? I’m sure we will see—” Juliette suddenly rushed forward and hugged Catherine with all her strength. Her voice was thick with tears when she continued. “Send for me if you have need. I’ll come. I’ll always come to you.”
“And I’ll always come to you.” Catherine’s throat tightened painfully as she hugged Juliette. So many years together, so much laughter, so many tears. “Go with God.”
Juliette laughed shakily as she stepped back. “I go with Jean Marc, who is not at all godlike, but I hope le bon Dieu will be there with us too. And with you, Catherine. Au revoir.” She turned and walked quickly across the room and out the door leading to the back garden.
The huge black balloon was beginning to inflate and the wire brazier in the basket burned brightly as Juliette stepped out of the house. Jean Marc strode toward her across the clearing. “We should leave now.” His gaze searched her strained face. “It may not be forever, Juliette.”
“And, then again, it may.” She smiled tremulously as she took his hand. “One never knows, so we must make the most of every moment. Where’s Louis Charles?”
“He’s sitting on the bale of straw in the basket.” He smiled. “He can hardly wait to get under way.”
“Then we mustn’t disappoint him. I have to say good-bye to François. Where—Oh, I see him.” François was on the other side of the basket, waiting to release the lead ropes.
Juliette marched up to him and into his
arms. “Au revoir.” She whispered fiercely, “You are not to let either Catherine’s or your own head be cut off. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” He solemnly kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll endeavor to do all possible to obey you.”
She stepped back. “And you must do one other thing for me. Jean Marc was forced to give that canaille Dupree the Wind Dancer to save my life, and we had no time to retrieve it from his mother’s home. I don’t want you to endanger yourself, but the statue has great value to Jean Marc.”
“I’ll find a way of getting it for him,” François said. “Though it may take time.”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Merci.” She turned and moved toward the straw basket in which Louis Charles stood, his hands clutching the edge, his eyes wide with eagerness. “We’re going now, Louis Charles. Did Jean Marc tell you what we’re going to do? He had Monsieur Radon, who was a pupil of Montgolfier, build this fine machine for us. This is a balloon like the one I saw at Versailles when I was a little girl. It’s black so that it can’t be seen easily against the night sky and we’ll soar up and up—”
“And over the barriers,” Louis Charles said. “And then when we’re safely out of the city we’ll come down to earth and Jean Marc has arranged to have a carriage with fast horses to speed us to the sea.” He frowned. “But what if we land in the wrong place?”
“We have lanterns to light after we cross the barriers. The carriage will see the lights and follow our passage until we reach a landing place,” Jean Marc said as he came to stand beside them. “Our ship’s docked at Dieppe, and Robespierre’s men are searching at Le Havre, which is over a hundred miles distant. So we should be well out to sea before they begin to consider other ports.”
“Won’t the fire that propels the balloon be seen from the ground?” Louis Charles asked.
“Possibly.” Jean Marc grinned. “But how often do soldiers on guard duty contemplate the heavens at one o’clock in the morning? If they do see it, they’ll probably think it’s a shooting star.”
“A shooting star,” Louis Charles repeated, his gaze on the night sky. “We’ll be a shooting star.”