El Dorado: An Adventure of the Scarlet Pimpernel
CHAPTER XVII. CHAUVELIN
Chauvelin! The presence of this man here at this moment made the eventsof the past few days seem more absolutely like a dream. Chauvelin!--themost deadly enemy he, Armand, and his sister Marguerite had in theworld. Chauvelin!--the evil genius that presided over the Secret Serviceof the Republic. Chauvelin--the aristocrat turned revolutionary, thediplomat turned spy, the baffled enemy of the Scarlet Pimpernel.
He stood there vaguely outlined in the gloom by the feeble rays ofan oil lamp fixed into the wall just above. The moisture on his sableclothes glistened in the flickering light like a thin veil of crystal;it clung to the rim of his hat, to the folds of his cloak; the rufflesat his throat and wrist hung limp and soiled.
He had released Armand's arm, and held his hands now underneath hiscloak; his pale, deep-set eyes rested gravely on the younger man's face.
"I had an idea, somehow," continued Chauvelin calmly, "that you and Iwould meet during your sojourn in Paris. I heard from my friend Heronthat you had been in the city; he, unfortunately, lost your track almostas soon as he had found it, and I, too, had begun to fear that ourmutual and ever enigmatical friend, the Scarlet Pimpernel, had spiritedyou away, which would have been a great disappointment to me."
Now he once more took hold of Armand by the elbow, but quite gently,more like a comrade who is glad to have met another, and is preparingto enjoy a pleasant conversation for a while. He led the way back to thegate, the sentinel saluting at sight of the tricolour scarf which wasvisible underneath his cloak. Under the stone rampart Chauvelin paused.
It was quiet and private here. The group of soldiers stood at thefurther end of the archway, but they were out of hearing, and theirforms were only vaguely discernible in the surrounding darkness.
Armand had followed his enemy mechanically like one bewitched andirresponsible for his actions. When Chauvelin paused he too stood still,not because of the grip on his arm, but because of that curious numbingof his will.
Vague, confused thoughts were floating through his brain, the mostdominant one among them being that Fate had effectually ordainedeverything for the best. Here was Chauvelin, a man who hated him, who,of course, would wish to see him dead. Well, surely it must be an easiermatter now to barter his own life for that of Jeanne; she had only beenarrested on suspicion of harbouring him, who was a known traitor to theRepublic; then, with his capture and speedy death, her supposed guiltwould, he hoped, be forgiven. These people could have no ill-willagainst her, and actors and actresses were always leniently dealt withwhen possible. Then surely, surely, he could serve Jeanne best by hisown arrest and condemnation, than by working to rescue her from prison.
In the meanwhile Chauvelin shook the damp from off his cloak, talkingall the time in his own peculiar, gently ironical manner.
"Lady Blakeney?" he was saying--"I hope that she is well!"
"I thank you, sir," murmured Armand mechanically.
"And my dear friend, Sir Percy Blakeney? I had hoped to meet him inParis. Ah! but no doubt he has been busy very busy; but I live inhopes--I live in hopes. See how kindly Chance has treated me," hecontinued in the same bland and mocking tones. "I was taking a strollin these parts, scarce hoping to meet a friend, when, passing thepostern-gate of this charming hostelry, whom should I see but my amiablefriend St. Just striving to gain admission. But, la! here am I talkingof myself, and I am not re-assured as to your state of health. You feltfaint just now, did you not? The air about this building is very dankand close. I hope you feel better now. Command me, pray, if I can be ofservice to you in any way."
Whilst Chauvelin talked he had drawn Armand after him into the lodgeof the concierge. The young man now made a great effort to pull himselfvigorously together and to steady his nerves.
He had his wish. He was inside the Temple prison now, not far fromJeanne, and though his enemy was older and less vigorous than himself,and the door of the concierge's lodge stood wide open, he knew that hewas in-deed as effectually a prisoner already as if the door of one ofthe numerous cells in this gigantic building had been bolted and barredupon him.
This knowledge helped him to recover his complete presence of mind. Nothought of fighting or trying to escape his fate entered his head for amoment. It had been useless probably, and undoubtedly it was better so.If he only could see Jeanne, and assure himself that she would be safein consequence of his own arrest, then, indeed, life could hold nogreater happiness for him.
Above all now he wanted to be cool and calculating, to curb theexcitement which the Latin blood in him called forth at every mention ofthe loved one's name. He tried to think of Percy, of his calmness, hiseasy banter with an enemy; he resolved to act as Percy would act underthese circumstances.
Firstly, he steadied his voice, and drew his well-knit, slim figureupright. He called to mind all his friends in England, with their rigidmanners, their impassiveness in the face of trying situations. There wasLord Tony, for instance, always ready with some boyish joke, with boyishimpertinence always hovering on his tongue. Armand tried to emulate LordTony's manner, and to borrow something of Percy's calm impudence.
"Citizen Chauvelin," he said, as soon as he felt quite sure of thesteadiness of his voice and the calmness of his manner, "I wonder ifyou are quite certain that that light grip which you have on my armis sufficient to keep me here walking quietly by your side insteadof knocking you down, as I certainly feel inclined to do, for I am ayounger, more vigorous man than you."
"H'm!" said Chauvelin, who made pretence to ponder over this difficultproblem; "like you, citizen St. Just, I wonder--"
"It could easily be done, you know."
"Fairly easily," rejoined the other; "but there is the guard; it isnumerous and strong in this building, and--"
"The gloom would help me; it is dark in the corridors, and a desperateman takes risks, remember--"
"Quite so! And you, citizen St. Just, are a desperate man just now."
"My sister Marguerite is not here, citizen Chauvelin. You cannot bartermy life for that of your enemy."
"No! no! no!" rejoined Chauvelin blandly; "not for that of my enemy, Iknow, but--"
Armand caught at his words like a drowning man at a reed.
"For hers!" he exclaimed.
"For hers?" queried the other with obvious puzzlement.
"Mademoiselle Lange," continued Armand with all the egoistic ardourof the lover who believes that the attention of the entire world isconcentrated upon his beloved.
"Mademoiselle Lange! You will set her free now that I am in your power."
Chauvelin smiled, his usual suave, enigmatical smile.
"Ah, yes!" he said. "Mademoiselle Lange. I had forgotten."
"Forgotten, man?--forgotten that those murderous dogs have arrestedher?--the best, the purest, this vile, degraded country has everproduced. She sheltered me one day just for an hour. I am a traitor tothe Republic--I own it. I'll make full confession; but she knew nothingof this. I deceived her; she is quite innocent, you understand? I'llmake full confession, but you must set her free."
He had gradually worked himself up again to a state of feverishexcitement. Through the darkness which hung about in this small room hetried to peer in Chauvelin's impassive face.
"Easy, easy, my young friend," said the other placidly; "you seem toimagine that I have something to do with the arrest of the lady in whomyou take so deep an interest. You forget that now I am but a discreditedservant of the Republic whom I failed to serve in her need. My life isonly granted me out of pity for my efforts, which were genuine if notsuccessful. I have no power to set any one free."
"Nor to arrest me now, in that case!" retorted Armand.
Chauvelin paused a moment before he replied with a deprecating smile:
"Only to denounce you, perhaps. I am still an agent of the Committee ofGeneral Security."
"Then all is for the best!" exclaimed St. Just eagerly. "You shalldenounce me to the Committee. They will be glad of my arrest, I assureyou. I have been
a marked man for some time. I had intended to evadearrest and to work for the rescue of Mademoiselle Lange; but I willgive up all thought of that--I will deliver myself into your handsabsolutely; nay, more, I will give you my most solemn word of honourthat not only will I make no attempt at escape, but that I will notallow any one to help me to do so. I will be a passive and willingprisoner if you, on the other hand, will effect Mademoiselle Lange'srelease."
"H'm!" mused Chauvelin again, "it sounds feasible."
"It does! it does!" rejoined Armand, whose excitement was atfever-pitch. "My arrest, my condemnation, my death, will be of vast dealmore importance to you than that of a young and innocent girl againstwhom unlikely charges would have to be tricked up, and whose acquittalmayhap public feeling might demand. As for me, I shall be an easy prey;my known counter-revolutionary principles, my sister's marriage with aforeigner--"
"Your connection with the Scarlet Pimpernel," suggested Chauvelinblandly.
"Quite so. I should not defend myself--"
"And your enigmatical friend would not attempt your rescue. C'estentendu," said Chauvelin with his wonted blandness. "Then, my dear,enthusiastic young friend, shall we adjourn to the office of mycolleague, citizen Heron, who is chief agent of the Committee of GeneralSecurity, and will receive your--did you say confession?--and note theconditions under which you place yourself absolutely in the hands of thePublic Prosecutor and subsequently of the executioner. Is that it?"
Armand was too full of schemes, too full of thoughts of Jeanne to notethe tone of quiet irony with which Chauvelin had been speaking allalong. With the unreasoning egoism of youth he was quite convinced thathis own arrest, his own affairs were as important to this entire nationin revolution as they were to himself. At moments like these it isdifficult to envisage a desperate situation clearly, and to a young manin love the fate of the beloved never seems desperate whilst he himselfis alive and ready for every sacrifice for her sake. "My life for hers"is the sublime if often foolish battle-cry that has so often resulted inwhole-sale destruction. Armand at this moment, when he fondly believedthat he was making a bargain with the most astute, most unscrupulousspy this revolutionary Government had in its pay--Armand just then hadabsolutely forgotten his chief, his friends, the league of mercy andhelp to which he belonged.
Enthusiasm and the spirit of self-sacrifice were carrying him away. Hewatched his enemy with glowing eyes as one who looks on the arbiter ofhis fate.
Chauvelin, without another word, beckoned to him to follow. He led theway out of the lodge, then, turning sharply to his left, he reached thewide quadrangle with the covered passage running right round it, thesame which de Batz had traversed two evenings ago when he went to visitHeron.
Armand, with a light heart and springy step, followed him as if he weregoing to a feast where he would meet Jeanne, where he would kneel ather feet, kiss her hands, and lead her triumphantly to freedom and tohappiness.