In the Name of Liberty: A Story of the Terror

  XII

  THE FATHER OF LOUISON

  The turbulent months which devastated the city with the fury of a pesthad been to Dossonville an exhilaration. Paths beset with a hundredpitfalls he ran with enjoyment, passing from side to side with agilityand alacrity, reveling in intrigues, nourished by entanglements. Butthe recrudescence of the Terror alarmed him in one way, for it renderedhim powerless to aid Barabant and Nicole. He still watched over them,but even he dared not risk a communication, for the moment had arrivedwhen it sufficed no longer to be Jacobin or Moderate. To sleep securelyat home one must have been born lucky.

  The death of Javogues and the disappearance of Cramoisin, Boudgoust,and Jambony had left the domination of Dossonville undisputed.Genevieve alone remained; but the girl, violently cast into womanhoodby the spark of love, had relapsed into childhood. He saw her once ortwice struggling under the weight of a bucket of water,--a child againopening its uncomprehending eyes on the world.

  Thus left to the liberty of his own pursuits, Dossonville had passedthe time running the streets, nose in the wind, smelling out thepopular favor, prying, laughing, never abandoning his equanimity,furious and frantic when it was necessary, moderate and smooth ofspeech when clemency was in the air.

  So that the prudent, desiring no more than to agree with the strong,had trimmed their sails by the conduct of Le Corbeau and Sans-Chagrin,who reflected the mood of their inscrutable leader. In Nivose, when awave of pity swept over the Convention, nothing could have been moretouching than the laments of Sans-Chagrin, while the glance of LeCorbeau was benevolence itself. Their weapons disappeared, replaced byboutonnieres, while, lingering behind their leader, they jested withall comers.

  With the news of the wholesale drownings at Nantes and the revival ofmassacres, the two had put forth cutlasses and pistols as a chestnutblossoms overnight, and, stalking abroad with violent gestures andfurious speech, struck dismay in all who met their suspicious glances.

  But the leader who, with a sign, worked these sudden transformationswas always at the head, imperturbable, alert, and impudent, twirlingas his only weapon the little ivory wand with which he whipped circlesin the air.

  Occasionally he saw Louison, when the execution of a Mme. Du Barry ora Maillard drew him to the spectacle of the guillotine. Between thesingular girl and himself there developed a curious attraction andrepulsion, which impelled or checked his interest as regularly as theebb and flow of the tides. When he saw her on the boulevards he feltstrongly her magnetism, but in the vicinity of the guillotine shecaused him a cold, almost repulsive, sensation.

  So marked were her habits that a few had even bestowed on her thesoubriquet of "the daughter of the guillotine." At the Cabaret dela Guillotine, where at lunch the menu bore the list of those to beexecuted in the afternoon, she was pointed out as the one who had nevermissed a performance. When discussions arose as to an execution, it wasalways Louison who was appealed to to decide.

  This development astounded Dossonville, then annoyed him, and finallyaroused him to such a pitch of disgust that one day he broke out:

  "Louison, it is not right, nor human, nor decent to give way to such acuriosity. You must stop it. It is dangerous. It will become a mania.Already you seem at times inhuman."

  "Others are there every day," she protested.

  "But not like you. You must stop. What, does it please you to be calledthe daughter of the guillotine?"

  "I don't know. It is always pleasant to be known."

  "It is repellent."

  "Don't come, then."

  For a fortnight he absented himself, angry and disturbed. But inmeasure as she ceased to appeal to his interest she perplexed hiscuriosity, and he was impelled more and more to study her, seekingto understand the reasons of her indifference to suffering and theevident absence of emotion. At the end of two weeks, she met him on theboulevards with an amused smile.

  "Since you persist in regarding me as a curiosity," she said, "youmight try what you can discover. Mama is back."

  Dossonville, without waiting to be urged twice, made a trip to theshop of the wig-maker and discovered that la Mere Baudrier had indeedreturned from the provinces. So that night, toward eleven o'clock, heled his watch-dogs back, relying on a plan of campaign which he hadimagined to force a revelation. Stationing Sans-Chagrin at the door,under which showed a slit of light, he knocked and entered withoutawaiting permission.

  A woman, shading a candle, came precipitately down the stairs, crying:

  "Who's there, and what do you want?"

  "Are you la Mere Baudrier?"

  "Well?"

  "Are you?"

  "Yes."

  "Descend; I wish to speak with you."

  She came down slowly, regarding him with alarmed surprise.

  "Who are you?"

  "The Citoyen Dossonville. I represent the Nation."

  Then, while the look changed to one of dismay, she blurted:

  "But what has the Nation to do with me?"

  "Do not fear, citoyenne, you will have every chance to excuse yourself."

  "Then I am to be arrested?"

  Dossonville, without replying, said:

  "Lead the way to the back; I must speak with you alone."

  She obeyed, repeating:

  "Am I under arrest? Am I? There's some mistake. I'm the CitoyenneBaudrier. Of what can I be accused?"

  "Exactly on that point I am to interrogate you. It may be long; sitdown."

  La Mere Baudrier, trembling, took a chair, never ceasing her mumbling.

  "But what? I don't understand. Why, every one will tell you that I am apatriot."

  Dossonville, who had been a moment interested in the resemblance ofdaughter and mother, seized upon the last word.

  "Citoyenne, there's the point: what constitutes a patriot? Do you knowthe law of suspects?" He tilted back his head and closed his eyes, notso tightly though as to miss the expression of her face. "These aredeclared suspects:

  "All aristocrats.

  "All priests.

  "All Moderates.

  "All those who, although they have done nothing against the Nation,have done nothing for it."

  He examined the prisoner carefully as he continued, emphasizing eachword:

  "All those who correspond with the enemies of the country.

  "All who habitually entertain strangers.

  "All those who in the past have been associated with the aristocrats,whether as servant, mistress, or friend."

  "She does not seem to fear the word aristocrat," Dossonville added tohimself. Then aloud: "Citoyenne Baudrier, you are accused of favoringthe aristocrats."

  A look of amazement overspread the woman's features, which was socomplete an answer to the charge that he added quickly:

  "Citoyenne, you are said to have been very intimate in the past withthe ci-devant nobles."

  The blank look of astonishment gave place to one of indignation.

  "I? I, the Citoyenne Baudrier? Come, that's a joke!"

  "Citoyenne Baudrier, listen to me," Dossonville said, checking theexplosion, "you are accused of having a daughter whose parentage youwill not reveal, because the father is a ci-devant aristocrat and anenemy of his country."

  At this point-blank accusation, to his surprise, she rose and saidscornfully, with her hands on her hips:

  "Ah, I see this is a trick of Louison's."

  For answer he displayed the shield of an agent de surete. La MereBaudrier, overwhelmed, fell back, covering her face with her hands,while a single word escaped her:

  "Never!"

  "Citoyenne," Dossonville cried sternly, "I warn you that only byproving the parentage of your daughter can you clear yourself. If yourefuse, you must answer before the Tribunal to the accusation."

  The woman shook her head without looking up.

  "Le Corbeau! Sans-Chagrin!" he called.

  At the noise of their entrance into the hall she sprang up, crying:"Wait!
Wait!"

  Giving them an order to halt, Dossonville returned, saying roughly:

  "Well, have you decided to speak?"

  For a moment the woman remained swaying, babbling to herself; thensuddenly she sank back, crying:

  "No, no!"

  "Undoubtedly it is an aristocrat, and some one formidable," Dossonvillethought, seeing the pallor of her face. Then, raising his voice, hecalled his men.

  At their entrance a trembling seized the body of the woman, but at thesight of the mocking face of Sans-Chagrin she recoiled as before avision, and a scream escaped her.

  "The Cure Sans-Souci! The Cure Sans-Souci!"

  "Who calls me by that name?" Sans-Chagrin cried, his face assuming alook of amazement. "Tiens! but I know that woman!"

  Suddenly he struck his head.

  "Of course!" he cried. "Pardi! what is there so terrible about me? Iwas always a good friend to you, La Glorieuse."

  "You knew it, then, all the while?" the woman cried, turning fiercelyto Dossonville.

  "I know nothing," Dossonville answered; and seeing that chance had comein somehow to his aid, he demanded curtly of Sans-Chagrin: "What do youknow of her?"

  "A good deal," Sans-Chagrin began, with a smile. "I confessed her whenI was a ci-devant cure in the days of fanaticism and error."

  La Mere Baudrier, very white, extended her hand for permission toDossonville, who said encouragingly:

  "Allons, you are going to be reasonable now?"

  "I will speak." She turned to Sans-Chagrin. "Citoyen Sans-Souci--"

  "I am Sans-Chagrin now."

  "Citoyen Sans-Chagrin, they accuse me of having a daughter by anaristocrat--Louison, the bouquetiere."

  "But your little one was called Rose."

  "I changed the name afterward." For a moment she was thrown intoconfusion, but rallying, she continued: "You can say if the father wasan aristocrat."

  "I should hope so: it was I that baptized her. Come, now, what was hecalled? La Gloire--la, le--no, Lajoie, Simon Lajoie, that's it."

  "Simon Lajoie!"

  The thunderclap was Dossonville's, who, thrown off his guard, caughtSans-Chagrin by the shoulder, repeating:

  "Simon Lajoie!"

  But immediately, by a violent effort, he controlled himself, anddismissing them hurriedly, turned his back on the frightened woman,seeking to regain his composure. When he turned, it was with the calmof intense excitement.

  "Is that the Simon Lajoie who used to frequent the Cafe Procope?"

  The woman remained dumb.

  "Is it?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. Your explanations are sufficient. You are released."

  He watched the look of immense relief that spread over her countenanceas she rose, with a mumbled thanks, and started for the door.

  "By the way, citoyenne," he cried carelessly; "one moment. Come back.Sit down. Could the Citoyen Lajoie have been any one in disguise?"

  Terrified and trapped, the woman sprang up.

  "For instance, the good Citoyen Charles Sanson?"

  Her answer was a shriek and the thud of her body falling in a swoon tothe floor.