In the Name of Liberty: A Story of the Terror

  V

  CRAMOISIN PLOTS AGAINST NICOLE

  Cramoisin, since the day of his humiliation before Genevieve, hadvented his spite on Barabant, seeking thus his vengeance on Nicole.Several times, in measure as the trial of the Girondins neared its endand it became evident that their condemnation was inevitable, he hadsounded Javogues on the score of Barabant, only to be repulsed withdecided negatives. But each defeat, by feeding fuel to his hatred, onlyincreased his determination. Convinced, at length, that nothing couldbe accomplished for the present through Javogues, he had recourse to laMere Corniche, hoping to find in her an ally.

  The shrewd little woman was not long in perceiving his intention. Sohaving sufficiently enjoyed his timid skirmishes, she summoned himto her early one morning, after the distribution of bread, and saidpoint-blank:

  "Out with it. What do you want to say to me?"

  The face of Cramoisin artfully showed surprise.

  "Come, old fellow, let us understand each other. You hate Barabant, eh?"

  "Barabant is a Girondin," Cramoisin ventured, and then, deceived by hermood, he plunged on: "He is a Moderate, a contre-Revolutionnaire. He isagainst Robespierre and the Jacobins."

  "Not a bit," la Mere Corniche interrupted, having now entrapped him."He is a follower of the great Marat!"

  "Who are you telling that to!" Cramoisin cried contemptuously.

  "Hark, old fellow, no airs with me," the concierge retorted sharply."The Citoyen Barabant came here with a letter to Marat. I saw it. Asfor you, I know what you're after, my fine patriot,--your eyes are onthe girl!"

  Cramoisin, now thoroughly alarmed, sought only to retreat.

  "Never in the world," he cried indignantly. "Come, mother, you mustn'twrong a fellow-patriot. I bear no hatred to Barabant. I thought him aGirondin; he is always with that cursed Goursac. But if you say he'snot, I'm glad to hear it."

  "Oui da, of course you are! You look it," she retorted scornfully."Come, get out of my way; leave me in peace, old hypocrite. You don'tfool me an instant. Be off!"

  Cramoisin escaped to the cabaret; la Mere Corniche, mumbling toherself, settled back in her chair; as the distribution of bread ended,the lodgers issued forth with buckets, to get water from the Seine.Resolved to put Barabant on his guard, she had stopped him, when, toher delight, she perceived Cramoisin disappearing into the cabaret insuch pitiful fright that she made a pretext and allowed Barabant todepart, resolved to prolong for a few days the agony of the terrifiedbully.

  She began the round of inspection which, at the expense of herstrength, she never failed to accomplish each morning. She passedthrough the empty rooms, scenting and prying, fumbling among papers andgarments, viewing one room with a glance, ransacking another for thetaint of aristocracy or the earmarks of a traitor.

  Arrived on Barabant's landing, she made a satisfied, careless surveyof the room, entering to rest from her labors. On a chair, in a stateof mending, was the blue redingote the young fellow had worn on hisarrival. More from habit than from suspicion, she ran her fingersthrough the pockets, and drew out the paper they encountered. It wasthe envelop addressed to Jean Paul Marat.

  She regarded it stupidly, contracting her brows, seeking anexplanation, before, with a cry, she tore it open. A sheet, empty andwhite, slipped to the floor. La Mere Corniche, overcome by the evidenceof the duplicity, fell back against the wall.

  It was five minutes before she could realize how she had been duped.Then from the miser, and the devotee of Marat, a long howl of ragebroke forth, and clutching the letter, she fell from the landing,rather than descended the stairs, gained her room, and abandonedherself to the transports of her rage.

  A half-hour later she hobbled forth, white but controlled, to theentrance, where, perceiving Cramoisin, she cried with a furious gesture:

  "Come here."

  At this angry summons the Terrorist would have slunk away had not laMere Corniche cut off his escape, crying:

  "Cramoisin, idiot, imbecile, come here!"

  She seized him, trembling at her tone, and impelled him into theentrance, exclaiming:

  "You hate Barabant? Answer me, you hate him!"

  "I swear--" he began, when she cut him short: "Fool, I despise him! Doyou hear me? I despise him!"

  While Cramoisin remained, with gaping mouth, incapable of words, theold woman poured out her reviling. At last he asked, in amazement:

  "What do you want of me?"

  "I want your help to destroy him."

  "Then why didn't you say so at first?"

  Fearing to be forced into explanations, she abated her fury and morecalmly demanded:

  "You have a plan; what is it?"

  "It's true?" Cramoisin said, still unconvinced. "You'll join me?"

  "I swear it."

  "We can't convince Javogues," Cramoisin began, "unless we can makeNicole betray him."

  "But how?"

  "Jealousy."

  "Jealousy? Is there cause? Do you know anything?"

  "What is necessary we can invent."

  "She won't believe it."

  "She'll believe it when she hears it from three persons," Cramoisinsaid, ruffling up his nose and sneering. "A woman'll believe anythingthree persons tell her. With Boudgoust and Jambony, we are four."

  "Is that your plan?" she cried, in disappointment. "It's stupid,impossible!"

  Cramoisin continued to argue with her its merits; she accorded it agrunt, then a shake of the head, and finally said:

  "Well, yes; it may do. We can try."

  "It's agreed, then. We must excite her suspicions,--but nothingdefinite."

  "What, are you going to give me instructions!" la Mere Corniche criedirately. "As though I couldn't handle a woman!"

  "Touch hands, then; it's agreed?"

  "Yes."

  "You must speak the first word," he said hurriedly. "It will bebetter." Shutting off a reply, he departed, leaving the conciergescowling and angry.

  "Oui da, I'll speak the first word, old schemer. He doesn't want thewoman to lay it to him, the toad!"

  * * * * *

  The next morning, as Nicole was leaving for the flower-market, la MereCorniche called to her.

  "Eh, Nicole, stop a moment." The girl, who feared her, approachedreluctantly.

  "You're going to the market?"

  "Yes."

  "To-morrow is Sunday. I want to put some flowers on the tomb of Marat.See what is going cheap this morning and tell me."

  "Is that all?"

  "You must stop from time to time to give me news," continued la MereCorniche, taking her hand.

  "You know as much as I do."

  "You sell flowers every day?"

  "Yes."

  "Your man doesn't earn enough, then?"

  "With the price of food where it is one can't earn too much."

  "You are happy?" the old woman asked brusquely.

  "Why do you ask that?" Nicole replied, resenting the question.

  "There, don't get angry. You may have friends you don't know of." Shereleased her hand, adding: "If you suspect nothing, I'll say no more."

  Penetrating readily the stratagem, Nicole laughed over the encounter,and, perceiving the bald attempt to rouse her jealousy, she dismissedthe conversation contemptuously from her mind.

  Toward midday, however, the insinuation returned, and forgettingher first attitude, she suffered a little at the very shadow of whather imagination could conjure up. She ended by again laughing at hersimplicity, nor did her mind recur again to the thought during the day.

  That evening, as she passed in front of the Pretre Pendu, sheencountered Cramoisin, who watched her from the corners of his eyes,rubbing his splayed thumb over his lip in such an ironical fashion thatshe stopped and demanded impatiently:

  "Well, what is it? I seem to amuse you."

  "Eh, perhaps you do."

  "Come, what do you mean by such looks!"

&nb
sp; Then rising, he looked her a moment in countenance, and replied:

  "Nicole, they told me you were clever."

  "Well, what does that mean?"

  "It means that you are either very stupid," he said curtly, "or veryblind."

  Nicole mounted the steps in perplexity, arresting her journey at everylanding to ask herself anxiously what he could have meant. In herroom she remained blankly at the window, forgetting the meal she hadto prepare. Several times she passed her hand across her forehead, asthough to rout the unquiet thoughts, but always returned to the samereverie. The church bell ringing five aroused her, and, ashamed tohave yielded to such doubts, she said angrily:

  "Come, I'm an idiot! I'll tell the whole affair to Barabant when hereturns and we will laugh at it together."

  Yet when he entered, her resolution forgotten, she rose quickly, andtaking him by the arms, looked anxiously in his face.

  "What is the matter with you?" he asked. "Why do you look at me socuriously?"

  "I was afraid you would do something rash," she said evasively."What--what of the Girondins?"

  "It is hopeless. To-morrow they may be condemned." But only halfsatisfied, he returned to the question. "Was that all you wanted toknow? You looked at me very queerly."

  "I don't doubt it," she said quickly. "Ah, Barabant, I am so afraidthat you will compromise yourself with them."

  "I must decide--and you would not have me a coward, Nicole?"

  She defended her position, she repeated the old arguments, she tried towin him from the thought of sacrifice; but of what had happened duringthe day she said not a word.

  "It is getting late," she exclaimed finally. "I must get into line."

  "Let me take the whole night," he pleaded; "you are tired."

  "No, no. Not at all."

  She hurried below, furious at herself for having betrayed to him herunrest, but when she remembered how instantly he had noticed thestrangeness of her look, she could not help thinking that a littlesuspicious.

  The next morning she prepared to meet the concierge with a newdefiance, but la Mere Corniche did not even raise her head. Cramoisin,to her relief, was absent; only Boudgoust and Jambony were lounging infront of the cabaret. She cast a furtive glance in their direction;they were laughing boisterously.

  "They are laughing at me," she thought, all her doubts returning.

  She passed a miserable morning, tortured by the fears that now seemedalways to have been with her. Unable to bear the tumult within herbreast, she determined to recount all to Barabant. If anything existed,she must know it definitely.

  Unfortunately, the arrival of Dossonville, who joined them at lunchon the boulevards, prevented the confidence, and during the mealanother suggestion added to her suffering. Barabant, in speaking ofDossonville's interest in Louison, expressed his astonishment at theattraction, ending peremptorily:

  "As for me,--she repels me."

  He had put considerable warmth into his criticism; that and the simpledeclaration of antagonism made havoc in the imagination of Nicole. Shethought the opinion obviously unnecessary. She asked herself if hereally were interested in Louison, whom she had always feared, would henot have said exactly what he had. But from logical inquiry she soonflew to conjecture and supposition, to weighing each word and actionand seeking a hidden meaning. She thought no longer of confiding inBarabant, but held herself on her guard.

  She was not convinced--she but half believed; yet she returned sadly.Her dream was over. Whatever might come, the first breath of jealousyhad entered her heart, and, rightly or wrongly, she knew that hertranquillity had departed forever.