The Red Cockade

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  THE CRISIS.

  When the grey dawn, to which so many looked forward, broke slowly overthe waking city, it found on the leads of Froment's tower some palefaces; perhaps some sinking hearts. That hour, when all life lackscolour, and all things, the sky excepted, are black to the eye, triesa man's courage to the uttermost; as the cold wind that blows with itsearches his body. Eyes that an hour before had sparkled over thewine--for we had sat late and drunk to the King, the Church, the RedCockade, and M. d'Artois--grew thoughtful; men who, a little before,had shown flushed faces, shivered as they peered into the mist, anddrew their cloaks more closely round them; and if the man was there,who regarded the issue of the day with perfect indifference, he wasnot of those near me.

  Froment had preached faith, but the faith for the most part was downin the street. There, I have no doubt, were many who believed, andwere ready to rush on death, or slay without pity. And there may havebeen one or two of these with us. But in the main, the men who lookeddown with me on Nimes that morning were hardy adventurers, or localfollowers of Froment, or officers whose regiments had dismissed them,or--but these were few--gentlemen, like St. Alais. All brave men, andsome heated with wine; but not Froment only had heard of Favrashanged, of De Launay massacred, of Provost Flesselles shot in coldblood! Others beside him could make a guess at the kind of vengeancethis strange new creature, La Nation, might take, being outraged: andso, when the long-expected dawn appeared at last, and warmed theeastern clouds, and leaping across the sea of mist which filled theRhone valley, tinged the western peaks with rosy light, and found uswatching, I saw no face among all the light fell on, that was notserious, not one but had some haggard, wan, or careworn touch to markit mortal.

  Save only Froment's. He, be the reason what it might, showed as thelight rose a countenance not merely resolute, but cheerful. Abandoningthe solitary habit he had maintained all night, he came forward to thebattlements overlooking the town, and talked and even jested, rallyingthe faint-hearted, and taking success for granted. I have heard hisenemies say that he did this because it was his nature, because hecould not help it; because his vanity raised him, not only above theordinary passions of men, but above fear; because in the conceit ofacting his part to the admiration of all, he forgot that it was morethan a part, and tried all fortunes and ran all risks with as littleemotion as the actor who portrays the Cid, or takes poison in the partof Mithridates.

  But this seems to me to amount to no more than saying that he was notonly a very vain, but a very brave man. Which I admit. No one, indeed,who saw him that morning could doubt it; or that, of a million, he wasthe man best fitted to command in such an emergency; resolute,undoubting, even gay, he reversed no orders, expressed no fears. Whenthe mist rolled away--a little after four--and let the smiling plainbe seen, and the city and the hills, and when from the direction ofthe Rhone the first harsh jangle of bells smote the ear and stilledthe lark's song, he turned to his following with an air almost joyous.

  "Come, gentlemen," he said gaily, and with head erect. "Let us bestirring! They must not say that we lie close and fear to showour heads abroad; or, having set others moving, are backwardourselves--like the tonguesters and dreamers of their knavishassembly, who, when they would take their King, set women in the frontrank to take the danger also! _Allons_, Messieurs! They brought himfrom Versailles to Paris. We will escort him back! And to-day we takethe first step!"

  Enthusiasm is of all things the most contagious. A murmur of assentgreeted his words; eyes that a moment before had been dull enough,grew bright. "_A bas les Traitres!_" cried one. "_A bas le Tricolor!_"cried another.

  Froment raised his hand for silence. "No, Monsieur," he said quickly."On the contrary, we will have a tricolour of our own. _Vive le Roi!Vive la Foi! Vive la Loi! Vivent les Trois!_"

  The conceit took. A hundred voices shouted, "_Vivent les Trois!_" inchorus. The words were taken up on lower roofs and at windows, and inthe streets below; until they passed noisily away, after the manner offile-firing, into the distance.

  Froment raised his hat gallantly. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said. "Inthe King's name, in his Majesty's name, I thank you. Before we havedone, the Atlantic shall hear that cry, and La Manche re-echo it! Andthe Rhone shall release what the Seine has taken! To Nimes and to you,all France looks this day. For freedom! For freedom to live--shallknaves and scriveners strangle her? For freedom to pray--they rob God,and defile His temples! For freedom to walk abroad--the King of Franceis a captive. Need I say more?"

  "No! No!" they cried, waving hats and swords. "No! No!"

  "Then I will not," he answered hardily. "I will use no more words! ButI will show that here at least, at Nimes at least, God and the Kingare honoured, and their servants are free! Give me your escort,gentlemen, and we will walk through the town and visit the King'sposts, and see if any here dare cry, '_A bas le Roi!_'"

  They answered with a roar of assent and menace that shook the verytower; and instantly trooping to the ladder, began to descend by it tothe roof of the house, and so to the staircase. Sitting on thebattlements of the tower, I watched them pass in a long stream acrossthe leads below, their hilts and buckles glittering in the sunshine,their ribbons waving in the breeze, their voices sharp and high. Ithought them, as I watched, a gallant company; the greater part wereyoung, and all had a fine air; not without sympathy I saw them vanishone by one in the head of the staircase, by which I had ascended. Onehalf had disappeared when I felt a touch on my arm, and found Froment,the last to leave, standing by my side.

  "You will stay here, Monsieur," he said, in an undertone of meaning,his eyes lowered to meet mine; "if the worst happens, I need notcharge you to look to Mademoiselle."

  "Worst or best, I will look to her," I answered.

  "Thanks," he said, his lip curling, and an ugly light for an instantflashing in his eyes. "But in the latter case I will look to hermyself. Don't forget, that if I win, we have still to talk, Monsieur!"

  "Yet, God grant you may win!" I exclaimed involuntarily.

  "You have faith in your swordsmanship?" he answered, with a slightsneer; and then, in a different tone, he went on: "No, Monsieur, it isnot that. It is that you are a French gentleman. And as such I leaveMademoiselle to your care without a qualm. God keep you!"

  "And you," I said. And I saw him go after the others.

  It was then about five o'clock. The sun was up, and the tower-roof,left silent and in my sole possession, seemed so near the sky, seemedso bright and peaceful and still, with the stillness of the earlymorning which is akin to innocence, that I looked about me dazed. Istood on a different plane from that of the world below, whence theroar of greeting that hailed Froment's appearance came up harshly.Another shout followed and another, that drove the affrighted pigeonsin a circling cloud high above the roofs; and then the wave of soundbegan to roll away, moving with an indescribable note of menacesouthward through the city. And I remained alone on my tower, raisedhigh above the strife.

  Alone, with time to think; and to think some grim thoughts. Where nowwas the sweet union of which half the nation had been dreaming forweeks? Where the millennium of peace and fraternity to which FatherBenoit, and the Syndics of Giron and Vlais, had looked forward? Andthe abolition of divisions? And the rights of man? And the other tenthousand blessings that philosophers and theorists had undertaken tocreate--the nature of man notwithstanding--their systems once adopted?Ay, where? From all the smiling country round came, for answer, theclanging of importunate bells. From the streets below rose for answerthe sounds of riot and triumph. Along this or that road, windingribbon-like across the plain, hurried little flocks of men--now seenfor the first time--with glittering arms; and last and worst--whensome half-hour had elapsed, and I still watched--from a distant suburbwestward boomed out a sudden volley, and then dropping shots. Thepigeons still wheeled, in a shining, shifting cloud, above the roofs,and the sparrows twittered round me, and on th
e tower, and on the roofbelow, where a few domestics clustered, all was sunshine and quiet andpeace. But down in the streets, there, I knew that death was at work.

  Still, for a time, I felt little excitement. It was early in the day;I expected no immediate issue; and I listened almost carelessly,following the train of thought I have traced, and gloomily comparingthis scene of strife with the brilliant promises of a few monthsbefore. But little by little the anxiety of the servants who stood onthe roof below, infected me. I began to listen more acutely; and tofancy that the tide of conflict was rolling nearer, that the cries andshots came more quickly and sharply to the ear. At last, in a placenear the barracks, and not far off, I distinguished little puffs ofthin white smoke rising above the roofs, and twice a rattling volleyin the same quarter shook the windows. Then in one of the streetsimmediately below me, the whole length of which was visible, I sawpeople running--running towards me.

  I called to the servants to know what it was.

  "They are attacking the arsenal, Monsieur," one answered, shading hiseyes.

  "Who?" I said.

  But he only shrugged his shoulders and looked out more intently. Ifollowed his example, but for a time nothing happened; then on asudden, as if a door were opened that hitherto had shut off the noise,a babel of shouts burst out and a great crowd entered the nearer endof the street below me, and pouring along it with loud cries andbrandished arms--and a crucifix and a little body of monks in themiddle--swirled away round the farthest corner, and were gone. Forsome time, however, I could still hear the burthen of their cries, andtrace it towards the barracks, whence the crackle of musketry came atintervals; and I concluded that it was a reinforcement, and thatFroment had sent for it. After that, chancing to look down, I saw thathalf the servants, below me, had vanished, and that figures werebeginning to skulk about the streets hitherto deserted; and I began totremble. The crisis had come sooner than I had thought.

  I called to one of the men and asked him where the ladies were.

  He looked up at me with a pale face. "I don't know, Monsieur," heanswered rapidly; and he looked away again.

  "They are below?"

  But he was watching too intently to answer, and only shook his headimpatiently. I was unwilling to leave my place on the roof, and Icalled to him to take my compliments to Madame St. Alais and ask herto ascend. It seemed strange that she had not done so, for women arenot generally lacking in the desire to see.

  But the man was too frightened to think of any one but himself--Ifancy he was one of the cooks--and he did not move; while hiscompanions only cried: "Presently, presently, Monsieur!"

  At that, however, I lost my temper; and, going to the ladder, I randown it, and strode towards them. "You rascals!" I cried. "Where arethe ladies?"

  One or two turned to me with a start. "Pardon, Monsieur?"

  "Where are the ladies?" I repeated impatiently.

  "Ah! I did not understand!" the nearest answered glibly. "Gone to thechurch to pray, Monsieur."

  "To the church?"

  "To be sure. By the Capuchins."

  "And they are not here?"

  "No, Monsieur," he answered, his eyes straying. "But--what is that?"

  And, diverted by something, he skipped nimbly from me, his cheek ashade paler. I followed him to the parapet, and looked over. The viewwas not so wide as from the tower above, but the main street leadingsouthward could be seen, and it was full of people; of scatteredgroups and handfuls, all coming towards us, some running, at an easypace, while others walked quickly, four or five abreast, and oftenlooked behind them.

  The servants never doubted what it meant. In a trice the group brokeup. With a muttered, "We are beaten!" they ran pell-mell across thesunny leads to the head of the staircase, and began to descend. Iwaited awhile, looking and fearing; but the stream of fugitives evercontinued and increased, the pace grew quicker, the last comers lookedmore frequently behind them and handled their arms; the din ofconflict, of yells, and cries, and shots, seemed to be approaching;and in a moment I made up my mind to act. The staircase was clear now;I ran quickly down it as far as the door on the upper floor, by whichI had entered the house that evening before. I tried this, butrecoiled; the door was locked. With a cry of vexation, my hastegrowing feverish--for now, in the darkness of the staircase, I was inignorance what was happening, and pictured the worst--I went on,descending round and round, until I reached the cloister-like hall, atthe bottom.

  I found this choked with men, armed, grim-faced, and furious; andbeset by other men who still continued to pour in from the street. Amoment later and I should have found the staircase stopped by thestream of people ascending; and I must have remained on the roof. Asit was, I could not for a minute or two force myself through thepress, but was thrust against a wall, and pinned there by the rushinwards. Next me, however, I found one of the servants in like case,and I seized him by the sleeve. "Where are the ladies?" I said. "Havethey returned? Are they here?"

  "I don't know," he said, his eyes roving.

  "Are they still at the church?"

  "Monsieur, I don't know," he answered impatiently; and then seeing, Ithink, the man for whom he was searching, he shook me off, with thechurlishness of fear, and, flinging himself into the crowd, was gone.

  All the place was such a hurly-burly of men entering and leaving,shouting orders, or forcing themselves through the press, that Idoubted what to do. Some were crying for Froment, others to close thedoors; one that all was lost, another to bring up the powder. Thedisorder was enough to turn the brain, and for a minute I stood in theheart of it, elbowed and pushed, and tossed this way and that. Wherewere the women? Where were the women? The doubt distracted me. Iseized half a dozen of the nearest men, and asked them; but they onlycried out fiercely that they did not know--how should they?--and shookme off savagely and escaped as the servant had. For all here, with afew exceptions, were of the commoner sort. I could see nothing ofFroment, nothing of St. Alais or the leaders, and only one or two ofthe gallants who had gone with them.

  I do not think that I was ever in a more trying position. Denise mightbe still at the church and in peril there; or she might be in thestreets exposed to dangers on which I dare not dwell; or, on the otherhand, she might be safe in the next room, or upstairs; or on the roof.In the unutterable confusion, it was impossible to know or learn, oreven move quickly; my only hope seemed to be in Froment's return, butafter waiting a minute, which seemed a lifetime, in the hope of seeinghim, I lost patience and battled my way through the press to a door,which appeared to lead to the main part of the house.

  Passing through it, I found the same disorder ruling; here men,bringing up powder from the cellars, blocked the passage; there othersappeared to be rifling the house. I had little hope of finding thosewhom I sought below stairs; and after glancing this way and thatwithout result, I lighted on a staircase, and ascending quickly to thesecond floor, hastened to Denise's room. The door was locked.

  I hammered on it madly and called, and waited, and listened, andcalled again; but I heard no sound from within; convinced at last. Ileft it and tried the nearest doors. The two first were locked also,and the rooms as silent; the third and fourth were open and empty. Thelast I entered was a man's.

  The task was no long one, and occupied less than a minute. But all thetime, while I rapped and listened and called, though the corridor inwhich I moved was quiet as death and echoed my footsteps, the housebelow rang with cries and shouts and hurrying feet; and I was in afever. Madame might be on the roof. I turned that way meaning toascend. Then I reflected that if I climbed to it I might find thestaircase blocked when I came to descend again; and, cursing my follyfor leaving the hall--simply because my quest had failed--I hurriedback to the stairs, and dashed recklessly down them, and, stemming aswell as I could the tide of people that surged and ebbed about thelower floor, I fought my way back to the hall.

  I was just in time. As I entered by one door Froment entered by theother, with a little band of his braves; of whom
several, I nowobserved, wore green ribbons--the Artois colours. His great statureraising him above the crowd of heads, I saw that he was wounded; alittle blood was running down his cheek, and his eyes shone with abrilliance almost of madness. But he was still cool; he had still somuch the command, not only of himself, but of those round him, thatthe commotion grew still and abated under his eye. In a moment men whobefore had only tumbled over and embarrassed one another, flew totheir places; and, though the howling of a hostile mob could plainlybe heard at the end of the street, and it was clear that he had fallenback before an overwhelming force, resolution seemed in a moment totake the place of panic, and hope of despair.

  Standing on the threshold, and pointing this way, and that, with adischarged pistol which he held in his hand, he gave a few short,sharp orders for the barricading of the door, and saw them carriedout, and sent this man to one post, and that man to another. Then, thecrowd, which had before cumbered the place, melting as if by magic, hesaw me forcing my way to him. And he beckoned to me.

  If he played a part, then let me say, once for all, he played itnobly. Even now, when I guessed that all was lost, I read no fear andno envy in his face; and in what he said there was no ostentation.

  "Get out quickly," he muttered, in an undertone, forestalling by ahasty gesture the excited questions I had on my lips, "through yonderdoor, and by the little postern at the foot of the other staircase. Goby the east gate, and you will find horses at the St. Genevieveoutside. It is all over here!" he added, wringing my hand hard, andpushing me towards the door.

  "But Mademoiselle?" I cried; and I told him that she was not in thehouse.

  "What?" he said, pausing and looking at me, with his face grownsuddenly dark. "Are you mad? Do you mean that she has gone out?"

  "She is not here," I answered. "I am told that she went to the churchwith Madame St. Alais, and has not returned."

  "That beldam!" he exclaimed, with a terrible oath, and then, "God helpthem!" he said--twice. And after a moment of silence, meeting my eyesand reading the horror in them, he laughed harshly. "After all, whatmatter?" he said recklessly. "We shall all go together! Let us go likegentlemen. I did what I could. Do you hear that?"

  He held up his hand, as a roar of musketry shook the house; and hegave an order. The small windows had been stopped with paving stones,the door made solid with the wall behind it; and daylight being shutout, lamps had been lighted, which gave the long whitewashed,stone-groined room a strange sombre look. Or it was the grim faces Isaw round me had that effect.

  "I am afraid that the St. Alais are cut off in the Arenes," he saidcoolly. "And they are not enough to man the walls. Those cursedCevennols have been too many for us. As for our friends--it is as Iexpected; they have left me to die like a bull in the ring. Well, wemust die goring."

  But in the midst of my admiration of his courage a kind of revulsionseized me. "And Denise?" I said, grasping his arm fiercely. "Are we toleave her to perish?"

  He looked at me, his lip curling. "True," he said, with a sneeringsmile. "I forgot. You are not of us."

  "I am thinking of her!" I cried, raging. And in that moment I hatedhim.

  But his mood changed while he looked at me. "You are right, Monsieur,"he said, in a different tone. "Go! There may be a chance; but thechurch is by the Capuchins, and those dogs were baying round it whenwe fell back. They are ten to one, or--still there may be a chance,"he continued with decision. "Go, and if you find her, and escape, donot forget Froment of Nimes."

  "By the postern?" I said.

  "Yes--take this," he answered; and abruptly drawing a pistol from hispocket, he forced it on me. "Go, and I must go too. Good fortune,Monsieur, and farewell. And you, bark away, you dogs!" he continuedbitterly, addressing the unconscious mob. "The bull is on foot yet,and will toss some of you before the ring closes!"