CHAPTER XLIX
CIVIC VIRTUE
Dominique and the citizeness proceeded as unobtrusively as they couldalong the Rue Honore. He hurried her past the Rue Florentin, down whichhe knew, without looking, was to be seen the tall machine of executionon the Place de la Revolution.
At first they passed few people, but on approaching the centre of theCity they saw numbers in front of the _cafes_ and even going to thetheatre. Flashy carriages of thievish men who had enriched themselvesunder the new conditions, rolled frequently by. The basis of theirpower, the squalid element with jealous, insolent eyes, also increasedon the pavements.
At the Rue de la Monnaie they turned towards the Quays. Just as theywere turning, a young woman, whose head was covered with a shawl, glidedfrom a gateway and addressed them.
They both started suspiciously, but the poor creature proved to be onlyseeking charity, and Cyrene, struck by a certain desperation in hertone, turned to give her a couple of _sous_. In passing the coins theireyes met, and the mendicant started.
"Great God! Madame Baroness, you do not know me?"
The voice, though altered in quality, recalled other times. Her featuresbecame recognisable, and the identity of their owner came over Cyrene.
"Mademoiselle de Richeval!" she gasped.
The sprightly companion of princesses was begging her bread. Her wit andbeauty had disappeared, the once bright eyes were sharp, the onceblooming cheeks were wrinkled and shrunk.
"Ladies, remember the spies," said Dominique.
"Go to our house, my dear," Cyrene whispered hastily. "It is No. 409,Rue Honore, you will get supper there, and await us."
"409, Rue Honore," the other repeated, and hastened to the promisedfood.
Continuing, the two reached the Hotel de Ville at seven o'clock. Thoughearly, the spacious building was lighted from attic to basement, andslipping in through a swarm of _Sans-culottes_ who surrounded thedoorsteps, they entered the great hall. As they were going in the"Marseillaise" began to be pounded, and the entry, from the oppositedirection, of persons of much more importance than they, attracted theeyes of the men and women who smoked and knitted round the hall. Theincomers were the President and heads of the Commune of Paris, eacharrayed in his tricolor _carmagnole_, red bonnet, and great sabre.
The President was the Admiral. His glittering eyes swept the chamber,and singling out Cyrene as by premeditation, rested upon her face. Hewas unknown to her, but at his smile she shuddered.
These exalted personages--robbers, murderers, tavern-keepers,kettle-menders--sat down on their raised tribune, while Cyrene andDominique were pushed by the guards into some rows of benches in frontof but not facing them. The individuals on these benches were as yetfew, and Cyrene looked apprehensively around the place, while Dominiquetook mental notes. They saw, forming the sides of the hall, twoamphitheatres filled with Jacobin women knitting, patching trousers orwaistcoats, and watching the benches of supplicants for the cards ofcivism, and made remarks to one another aloud.
"That one's not _Sans-culotte_ enough for me," called out a young womanin a red bonnet, and crossing over with the stride of a Grenadier toCyrene, stood before her, arms akimbo, and cried shrilly, "SaintGuillotine for your patron, my delicate Ma'mselle."
The use of the prescribed address "ma'mselle" was evidently regarded asa witticism, for shouts of laughter filled the place.
Just then the President rang his bell, and as he did so he looked atCyrene significantly. Shrink as she might from his leer, she could notbut feel grateful, for he had evidently rung purposely.
A secretary began the minutes, which consisted of resolutions of Jacobinjoy at the capture of a once idolised patriot who had lately beendenounced by Robespierre for counselling mercy to prisoners.
The name of Robespierre excited enthusiastic applause.
A set of benches facing those of the applicants had stood thus farempty. They were now filled by the entry of a body of representativesfurnished by certain of the forty-eight sections of the City, whereuponthe "Marseillaise" was again beat, and several of the councillors littheir pipes.
The principal sections represented were those of the Pikes and theFish-market.
Some one called for "Ca ira." It was succeeded by a harangue of theAdmiral against the captured ex-patriot. Cyrene followed with horrorevery word of his oratory, every movement of his declamation, the air ofpride with which he played upon the passions of the _Sans-culottes_,and the wicked sweep of the principles he announced.
"That all mankind deserve massacre," he cried, smiling, "is thephilosophic general rule; the sole exceptions are the true patriots. Bytitle of liberty, the possessions of all belong to them alone. And howcan we know the true patriot? _By his red cap and his red hand._"
Finally the long suspense of the applicants was brought to a close; thesecretary called the first on the list.
"Citizeness Montmorency."
At the once great name a silence fell over the place.
Then a murmur ran through the benches of the Jacobin women, while Cyrenesummoned her courage. The murmur was not long in taking shape.
"The Montmorencys are a brood of monsters," energetically called theyoung Jacobiness, rising in her place.
"The aristocrat to the guillotine!" shouted a drunken man.
"The guillotine!"
"Yes, yes--to La Force immediately!"
These and similar cries resounded. They fell upon Cyrene's ears likethunders of hostile artillery in a battle. Dominique sat quite still.His mistress rose. Now that the instant of danger had actually come shefelt an inconquerable courage well up in her, which, as she stood withbrilliant eye and glowing cheek, made her very beautiful. This was notin her favour with the envious knitters; but while they commented infrightful language on her gentle build, the secretary said--"Are you theperson?"
"I am," she answered clearly.
"Are you not," he continued glancing at the audience for approbation,"the late aristocrat Baroness of that name?"
"I am," she replied, in a tone still clearer and more fearless.
The President's face gleamed with admiration. He rang his bell sharplyand the clamours subsided. His glittering eyes devoured her features,while he said--
"Does anybody know the citizeness and answer for her civism?" Hehurriedly added, "Adjourned; call the next."
Dominique caught her by the arm to make their exit, for though he couldnot assign a reason for the Admiral's device of favour, he was ready totake advantage of it.
As they started, one of the section members sprang up and exclaimed--
"I answer for the citizeness."
He was a man of less than thirty, and of open, enthusiastic expression,and wore the uniform of a National Guard.
"You, citizen la Tour?" the Admiral exclaimed.
Cyrene eyed the member in grateful but intense wonder. She had never toher knowledge seen him before.
"Yes, citizen President," he replied earnestly, "I answer for thecitizeness because she saved my life."
The crowd hushed by a common impulse.
"You all know me, brothers," he cried, "my record for the Revolution, mypassion for liberty--Liberty, Liberty, Liberty! It has been my dreamunder the stars, my labour under the sun, my love and my desire. I was,as all know, a patriot proscribed and condemned to death before theRevolution began. I was of the first at the hanging of Foulon, at thesacking of Reveillon, and at the walls of the Bastille. I was wounded inthe stand against the Dragoons of Lambesc, and all know my scars in thebattles of the North. I name these things only to prove the claim ofthis woman to civic rights. By her pity she saved my life in the olddays, at the last moment before my breaking on the wheel. Imagine toyourselves that moment. Ask how I can feel other than gratitude anddevotion to my benefactress. In the evil days of the aristocrats she wasa friend of the poor. I present her now to you when it is in our powerto confer liberty upon her who set at liberty, life upon her who savedlife. I, the child of the Revolution, pray this as my
right; she claimsit also for herself as a heroine of civic virtue. Give your suffrages."
"Vive la Tour! vive the citizeness!" resounded in shouts through thehall. Once more the Admiral rang his bell, and silenced followed.
"Yes, citizeness," he said, addressing her, "your courage is Frenchcourage, your virtue French virtue, and the good heart of the nationsees in you a daughter of the people. Incarnating the spirit of therace, be welcome at the tables of fraternity, and accept the homage ofall hearts."
At a motion of his hand the secretary hastily filled in her certificate,and Dominique, without waiting for his own, hurried her away. Even asthey left they heard Wife Gougeon scream--
"Death to the aristocrat!"
They hastened across the Place de Greve, but had not yet reached thecorner of the street beyond, when in the dusk Cyrene heard the sound ofrushing wheels, felt herself choked by a gag from behind, and was pushedhelpless by rough hands into a coach and driven away. Behind her sheheard a sound of scuffle and the voice of Dominique cry aloud inanguish--
"They have finished me!"
"Be quiet, my lady," spoke the voice of Abbe Jude.
She knew no more till she woke in darkness.