CHAPTER XXV.
THE BASTILLE.
And now, with the reader's permission, we will enter the Bastille--thatformidable building at which even the passing traveler trembled, andwhich, to the whole neighborhood, was an annoyance and cause of alarm;for often at night the cries of the unfortunate prisoners who were undertorture might be heard piercing the thick walls, so much so, that theDuchesse de Lesdequieres once wrote to the governor, that, if he did notprevent his patients from making such a noise, she should complain tothe king.
At this time, however, under the reign of Philippe d'Orleans, there wereno cries to be heard; the society was select, and too well bred todisturb the repose of a lady.
In a room in the Du Coin tower, on the first floor, was a prisoneralone; the room was large, and resembled an immense tomb lighted by twowindows, furnished with an unusual allowance of bars and irons. Apainted couch, two rough wooden chairs, and a black table, were thewhole furniture; the walls were covered with strange inscriptions, whichthe prisoner consulted from time to time when he was overcome by ennui.
ABBE BRIGAUD.--Page 517.]
He had, however, been but one day in the Bastille, and yet already hepaced his vast chamber, examining the iron-barred doors, lookingthrough the grated windows, listening, sighing, waiting. This day, whichwas Sunday, a pale sun silvered the clouds, and the prisoner watched,with a feeling of inexpressible melancholy, the walkers on theBoulevards. It was easy to see that every passer-by looked at theBastille with a feeling of terror, and of self-gratulation at not beingwithin its walls. A noise of bolts and creaking hinges drew the prisonerfrom this sad occupation, and he saw the man enter before whom he hadbeen taken the day before. This man, about thirty years of age, with anagreeable appearance and polite bearing, was the governor, M. de Launay,father of that De Launay who died at his post in '89.
The prisoner, who recognized him, did not know how rare such visitswere.
"Monsieur de Chanlay," said the governor, bowing, "I come to know if youhave passed a good night, and are satisfied with the fare of the houseand the conduct of the employes"--thus M. de Launay, in his politeness,called the turnkeys and jailers.
"Yes, monsieur; and these attentions paid to a prisoner have surprisedme, I own."
"The bed is hard and old, but yet it is one of the best; luxury beingforbidden by our rules. Your room, monsieur, is the best in theBastille; it has been occupied by the Duc d'Angouleme, by the Marquis deBassompierre, and by the Marshals de Luxembourg and Biron; it is herethat I lodge the princes when his majesty does me the honor to send themto me."
"It is an excellent lodging," said Gaston, smiling, "though illfurnished; can I have some books, some paper, and pens?"
"Books, monsieur, are strictly forbidden; but if you very much wish toread, as many things are allowed to a prisoner who is ennuye, come andsee me, then you can put in your pocket one of those volumes which mywife or I leave about; you will hide it from all eyes; on a secondvisit you will take the second volume, and to this abstraction we willclose our eyes."
"And paper, pens, ink?" said Gaston, "I wish most particularly towrite."
"No one writes here, monsieur; or, at least, only to the king, theregent, the minister, or to me; but they draw, and I can let you havedrawing-paper and pencils."
"Monsieur, how can I thank you sufficiently for your kindness?"
"By granting me the request I came to make, for my visit is aninterested one. I came to ask if you would do me the honor to dine withme to-day?"
"With you, monsieur! truly, you surprise me; however, I cannot tell youhow sensible I am of your courtesy, and should retain for it aneverlasting gratitude if I had any prospect but death before my eyes."
"Death! monsieur, you are gloomy; you should not think of thesethings--forget them and accept--"
"I do, monsieur."
"A la bonne heure," said the governor, bowing to Gaston, "I will takeback your answer;" and he went out, leaving the prisoner plunged in anew train of ideas.
The politeness which at first charmed the chevalier, on reflection beganto arouse some suspicion. Might it not be intended to inspire him withconfidence, and lead him on to betray himself and his companions; heremembered the tragic chronicle of the Bastille, the snares laid forprisoners, and that famous dungeon chamber so much spoken of, which nonewho had entered ever left alive. Gaston felt himself alone andabandoned. He also felt that the crime he had meditated deserved death;did not all these flattering and strange advances conceal some snare? Infact, the Bastille had done its ordinary work; the prison acted on theprisoner, who became cold, suspicious, and uneasy.
"They take me for a provincial," he thought, "and they hopethat--prudent in my interrogatories--I shall be imprudent in my conduct;they do not, they cannot, know my accomplices; and they hope that ingiving me the means of communicating with them, of writing to them, orof inadvertently speaking of them, they will get something out of me.Dubois and D'Argenson are at the bottom of this."
Then Gaston thought of his friends who were waiting for him without newsfrom him, who would not know what had become of him, or, worse still, onsome false news, might act and ruin themselves.
Then came the thought of his poor Helene, isolated, as he himself was,whom he had not even presented to the Duc d'Olivares, her sole protectorfor the future, and who might himself be arrested or have taken flight.Then, what would become of Helene, without support, and pursued by thatunknown person, who had sought her even in the heart of Bretagne?
In a paroxysm of despair at this thought, Gaston threw himself on hisbed, cursing the doors and bars which imprisoned him, and striking thestones with his hands.
At this moment there was a noise at the door. Gaston rose hastily, andmet D'Argenson with a law officer, and behind them an imposing escort ofsoldiers. He understood that he was to be interrogated.
D'Argenson, with his great wig, large black eyes, and dark shaggyeyebrows, made little impression on the chevalier; he knew that injoining the conspiracy he sacrificed his happiness, and that in enteringthe Bastille he had sacrificed his life. In this mood, it was difficultto frighten him. D'Argenson asked a hundred questions which Gastonrefused to answer, replying only by complaints of being unjustlyarrested, and demanding proof. M. d'Argenson became angry, and Gastonlaughed in his face; then D'Argenson spoke of the Breton conspiracy;Gaston assumed astonishment, and listened to the list of his accompliceswith the greatest sangfroid. When the magistrate had finished, hethanked him for giving him intelligence of events which were quite newto him. D'Argenson again lost patience, and gave his ordinary angrycough. Then he passed from interrogatory to accusation.
"You wanted to kill the regent," said he, all at once, to thechevalier.
"How do you know that?" asked Gaston, calmly.
"Never mind how, since I know it."
"Then I will answer you as Agamemnon did Achilles. Why ask, since youknow it?"
"Monsieur, I am not jesting," said D'Argenson.
"Nor I," said Gaston; "I only quote Racine."
"Take care, monsieur, you may find this system of defense do you nogood."
"Do you think it would be better to confess what you ask me?"
"It is useless to deny a fact which I am aware of."
"Then permit me to repeat my question: what is the use of asking meabout a project of which apparently you are so much better informed thanI am?"
"I want the details."
"Ask your police, which reads even people's most secret thoughts."
"Hum, hum," said D'Argenson, in a tone which, in spite of Gaston'scourage, made some impression on him, "what would you say if I askednews of your friend La Jonquiere?"
"I should say," replied Gaston, turning pale, "that I hope the samemistake has not been made about him as about me."
"Ah!" said D'Argenson, "that name touches you, I think--you know M. laJonquiere?"
"I know him as a friend, recommended to me to show me Paris."
"Yes--Paris and its envir
ons; the Palais Royal, the Rue du Bac, or LaMuette: he was to show you all these, was he not?"
"They know all," thought Gaston.
"Well, monsieur," said D'Argenson, "can you find another verse fromRacine which will serve as an answer to my question?"
"Perhaps I might, if I knew what you meant; certainly I wished to seethe Palais Royal, for it is a curious place, and I have heard it muchspoken of. As to the Rue du Bac, I know little of it; then there onlyremains La Muette, of which I know nothing."
"I do not say that you have been there; I say that La Jonquiere was totake you there--do you dare to deny it."
"Ma foi, monsieur, I neither deny nor avow; I refer you to him; he willanswer you if he think fit."
"It is useless, monsieur; he has been asked, and has replied."
Gaston felt a shudder pass through him. He might be betrayed, but hewould divulge nothing. He kept silence.
D'Argenson waited a moment, then, seeing that Gaston remained silent--
"Would you like to meet La Jonquiere?" asked he.
"You can do with me as you please, monsieur," said Gaston; "I am in yourhands."
But at the same time he resolved, if he were to face La Jonquiere, hewould crush him beneath his contempt.
"It is well. As you say, I am the master, and I choose just now to applythe ordinary and extraordinary question: Do you know what they are,monsieur?" said D'Argenson, leaning on each syllable.
A cold sweat bathed Gaston's temples, not that he feared to die, buttorture was worse than death. A victim of the torture was alwaysdisfigured or crippled, and the best of these alternatives was a cruelone for a young man of five and twenty.
D'Argenson saw, as in a mirror, what was passing in Gaston's mind.
"Hola!" said the interrogator.
Two men entered.
"Here is a gentleman who seems to have no dislike to the questionordinary or extraordinary. Take him to the room."
"It is the dark hour, the hour I expected," murmured Gaston. "Oh, myGod! give me courage."
Doubtless his prayer was heard, for, making a sign that he was ready, hefollowed the guards with a firm step.
D'Argenson came behind him.
They descended the stone staircase and passed the first dungeon in thetower. There they crossed two courts. As they crossed the second court,some prisoners, looking through their windows and seeing a gentlemanwell dressed, called out:
"Hola! monsieur, you are set free then?"
A woman's voice added:
"Monsieur, if you are asked about us when you are free from here, saythat we said nothing."
A young man's voice said:
"You are happy, monsieur--you will see her you love."
"You are mistaken, monsieur," said the chevalier. "I am about to sufferthe question."
A terrible silence succeeded. Then the sad procession went over thedrawbridge, Gaston was placed in a closed and locked chair and taken tothe arsenal, which was separated from the Bastille by a narrow passage.
D'Argenson had taken the lead, and awaited the prisoner, who foundhimself in a low room covered with damp. On the wall hung chains,collars, and other strange instruments; chafing dishes stood on theground, and crosses of Saint Andre were in the corner.
"You see this," said D'Argenson, showing the chevalier two ringsfastened into flagstones at six feet apart, and separated by a woodenbench about three feet high; "in these rings are placed the head andfeet of the patient; then this tressel is placed under him, so that hisstomach is two feet higher than his mouth; then we pour pots of waterholding two pints each into his mouth. The number is fixed at eight forthe ordinary, ten for the extraordinary question. If the patient refusesto swallow, we pinch his nose so that he cannot breathe; then he openshis mouth, then he swallows. This question," continued he, emphasizingevery detail, "is very disagreeable, and yet I do not think I shouldprefer the boot. Both kill sometimes; the boot disfigures the patient,and it is true that the water destroys his health for the future; but itis rare, for the prisoner always speaks at the ordinary question if hebe guilty, and generally at the extraordinary, if he be not."
Gaston, pale and silent, listened and watched.
"Do you prefer the wedges, chevalier? Here, bring the wedges."
A man brought six wedges and showed them, still stained with blood andflattened at the edges by the blows which had been struck upon them.
"Do you know the way in which these are used? The knees and ankles ofthe patient are pressed between two wooden slabs as tightly as possible,then one of these men forces a wedge between the knees, which isfollowed by a larger one. There are eight for the ordinary torture, andtwo larger for the extraordinary. These wedges, I warn you, chevalier,break bones like glass, and wound the flesh insupportably."
"Enough, enough," said Gaston, "unless you wish to double the torture bydescribing it; but, if it be only to guide my choice, I leave it to you,as you must know them better than I, and I shall be grateful if you willchoose the one which will kill me most quickly."
D'Argenson could not conceal the admiration with which Gaston's strengthof will inspired him.
"Come," said he, "speak, and you shall not be tortured."
"I have nothing to say, monsieur, so I cannot."
"Do not play the Spartan, I advise you. One may cry, but between thecries one always speaks under torture."
"Try," said Gaston.
Gaston's resolute air, in spite of the struggle of nature--a strugglewhich was evidenced by his paleness, and by a slight nervous tremorwhich shook him--gave D'Argenson the measure of his courage. He wasaccustomed to this kind of thing, and was rarely mistaken. He saw thathe should get nothing out of him, yet he persisted.
"Come, monsieur," said he, "it is still time. Do not force us to do youany violence."
"Monsieur," said Gaston, "I swear before God who hears me, that if youput me to the torture, instead of speaking, I will hold my breath, andstifle myself, if the thing be possible. Judge, then, if I am likely toyield to threats, where I am determined not to yield to pain."
D'Argenson signed to the tormentors, who approached Gaston; but, asthey did so, he seemed to gain new strength. With a calm smile, hehelped them to remove his coat and to unfasten his cuffs.
"It is to be the water, then?" asked the man.
"The water first," said D'Argenson.
They passed the cords through the rings, brought the tressels, filledthe vases--Gaston did not flinch.
D'Argenson reflected.
After about ten minutes' thought, which seemed an age to the chevalier--
"Let him go," said D'Argenson, with a grunt of discontent, "and take himback to the Bastille."