The Chevalier De Maison Rouge (9 page)

flinch.

" Oh ! you feel that ? " said one of the men. " There are eight more similar to this with which you will claim

acquaintance/'

" Kill me, then," said Maurice, with resignation; "it will, at least, be finished at once."

" Who are you ? " said the mild but firm voice.

"Do you wish to know my name ? "

" Yes, your name."

"I am Maurice Lindey."

" What ! " cried a voice, " Maurice Lindey, the revolu the patriot ; Maurice Lindey, the secretary of the

section Lepelletier ? "

These words were pronounced with so much warmth

that Maurice felt they were decisive. This reply was cal-

culated to decide his fate. Maurice was incapable of

fear ; he drew himself up like a true Spartan, and *e-

plied, in a firm voice :

" Yes, Maurice Liudey ; yes, Maurice Lindey, secre-

tary to the section Lepelletier ; yes, Maurice Lindey, the

patriot, the revolutionist, the Jacobin ; Maurice Lindey,

in short, whose happiest day will be that on which he

dies for liberty."

This reply was received with the silence of death.

Maurice presented his breast, expecting every moment

the sword, of which lie had only felt the point, would be

plunged into his heart.

56 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

"Is this true ?" said a voice full of emotion ; "let us see, young man, that you lie not."

"Feel in my pocket," said Maurice, "and you will there find my commission. Look upon my breast, and if

not effaced by my blood, you will see my initials, an M

and L, embroidered on my shirt."

Maurice felt himself immediately raised by strong arms,

and carried to some distance. He first heard one door

open, then a second, which he knew was narrower than

the first, from the trouble the men found in carrying him

through. The murmuring and whispering continued.

" I am lost ! " said Maurice to himself ; " they will fasten a stone round my neck, and cast me into the

Briere."

In an instant he felt the men who bore him were mount-

ing some steps. A warmer air fanned his face, and he

was placed upon a seat. He heard a door double-locked

and the sound of departing steps. He fancied he was left

alone. He listened with as much attention as was pos-

sible in a man whose life hung upon a word, and thought

he again heard the voice which had already struck upon

his ear say, with a mixture of decision and mildness :

" We will deliberate."

CHAPTER VIII.

GEXEYIEVE.

A QUARTER of an hour passed away ; it appeared an

age to Maurice. And what more natural ? Young, hand-

some and vigorous, highly beloved and esteemed by a

hundred devoted friends, with whom lie sometimes

dreamed of accomplishing great things, he felt himself

suddenly, without preparation, liable to lose his life the

victim of a base ambuscade. He knew no one was shut

in the chamber ; but was he watched ? He again exerted

all his strength to break his bonds, till his iron muscles

swelled, and the cords entered his flesh ; but this, like

all his former efforts, was useless.

THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. 57

It was the more terrible his hands being tied behind ;

he was unable to draw up his bandage. If he were only

able to see, he might perhaps be able to escape. However,

as these various attempts were made without opposition,

and hearing no one stirring, he concluded he was quite

alone.

His feet pressed upon something soft and heavy, it

might be gravel or perhaps soft clay. An acrid, pungent

smell announced the presence of vegetable matter.

Maurice fancied he was in a greenhouse, or some place

very like it. He took a step or two, hit the wall, turned,

and, groping with his hands, felt some garden tools. He

uttered an exclamation of joy. With unparalleled exer-

tion he began to examine these tools, one after another.

His flight now became a question of time. If chance or

Providence granted him five minutes, and if among these

tools he found a sharp instrument, he was saved. He

found a spade. From the way in which Maurice was

bound, it required a great struggle to raise the spade a

sufficient height for his purpose. He at length succeeded

and, upon the iron of the spade, which he supported

against the wall with his back, he at last cut, or, rather, wore away, the cord which confined his wrists. The

operation was tedious ; the iron cut slowly. The perspira-

tion streamed from his face ; he heard a noise as of some

one approaching ; with a tremendous effort, the cord,

rather worn, broke. This time it was a cry of joy he

gave utterance to ; now, at least, he was sure to die in

defending himself. Maurice tore the bandage from his

eyes. He was not deceived, but found himself in a kind

of, not greenhouse, but pavilion, used as a receptacle for

the more delicate plants unable to outlive the winter in

the open air. In a corner the gardening implements were

stowed away, which had been the means of rendering him

so important a service. Facing him was a window ; he

glanced toward it, and saw it was grated, and a man armed

with a carbine placed sentinel before it.

On the other side of the garden, about thirty paces

distant, perhaps rather less, rose a small turret, fellow

58 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

to the one where Maurice remained prisoner. The blind

was down, but through the blind a light was visible.

He approached the door and listened ; another sentinel

was placed before this door. These were the footsteps he

had heard. But from the end of the corridor a confusion

of voices resounded. The deliberation had evidently de-

generated into disputation.

Maurice could not hear distinctly what was said ; some

words, however, reached him, and amid these words as if

for them only the distance was short he distinguished

plainly, " Spy ! Poniard! Death!" Maurice redoubled his attention; a door opened, and he heard more distinctly.

" Yes," said one voice, " it is assuredly a spy ; he has discovered something, and is certainly sent to take us and

our secret unawares. In freeing him we run the risk of

his denouncing us."

" But his word," said a voice.

" His word he will give it only to betray it. Is he a

gentleman, that we should trust his word ?"

Maurice ground his teeth at the idea which some folks

still retained, that only a gentleman could keep his

oath.

" But he does not know us ; how can he denounce us ? "

" Xo, he does not know us, certainly, nor our occupa-

tions ; but he knows the address, and will return ; this

time he will be well accompanied."

This argument appeared conclusive.

" Then," said a voice, which several times already had struck Maurice as belonging to the chief, " it is then quite decided."

" Yes, a hundred times, yes ; I do not comprehend you

with your magnanimity. Mon clicr, if the Committee for

the Public Safety caught us, you would see if they acted

after this fashion."

"You persist, then, in your decision, gentlemen ?"

" Without doubt ; and you are not, we hope, going to

oppose it ? "

" I have only one voice, gentlemen , it has been in

THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. 59

favor of his liberation ; you possess six, and they all vote for his death. Let it then be death."

Maurice felt the "blood freeze in his veins.

" Of course he will howl and cry ! " said the voice ;

" but have you removed Madame Dixmer ? "

" Madame Dixmer ! " murmured Maurice ; " I begin now to comprehend I am in the house of the master tanner, who spoke to me in the Old Rue St. Jacques, and

who went away laughing because I was unable to tell him

the name of my friend. "But how the devil can it be to his interest to assassinate me ?"

Looking round about him, Maurice perceived an iron

stake with a handle of ash-tree wood.

" In any case/' said he, " before they assassinate me, I will kill more than one of them."

And he sprang to secure this harmless instrument,

which, in his hand, was to become a formidable weapon.

He then retired behind the door, and so placed himself

that he could see without being seen. His heart beat so

tumultuously that in the deep silence its palpitations

might be heard. Suddenly Maurice shuddered from head

to foot. A voice had said :

" If you act according to my advice, you will break a

window, and through the bars kill him with a shot from

a carbine."

' Oh, no, no ! not an explosion," said another voice ; that might betray us. Besides, Dixmer, there is your

wife."

' I have just looked at her through the blind ; she sus-

pects nothing she is reading."

' Dixmer, you shall decide for us. Do you advocate a

shot from the carbine, or a stroke from the poniard ? "

' Avoid firearms as far as it is possible the poniard."

" Then let it be the poniard. Allans ! "

" Allans!" repeated five or six voices together.

Maurice was a child of the Revolution with a heart of

flint, and in mind, like many others at that epoch, an

atheist. But at the word " Allans ! " pronounced behind the door, which alone separated him from death, he re-60 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

membered the sign of the cross, which his mother had

taught him when an infant he repeated his prayers at

her knee.

Steps approached, stopped ; then the key turned in the

lock, and the door slowly opened.

During this fleeting moment, Maurice had said to him-

self :

"If I lose this opportunity to strike the first blow I am a dead man. If I throw myself upon the assassins, I

take them unawares gain first the garden, then the

street, and am saved ! "

Immediately, with the spring of a lion, and uttering a

savage cry, which savored more of menace than terror, he

threw down the first two men, who, believing him bound

and blindfolded, were quite unprepared for such an as-

sault, scattered the others, took a tremendous leap over

over them, thanks to his iron muscles, saw at the end

of the corridor a door leading into the garden wide open,

rushed toward it, cleared at a bound six steps, and found

himself in the garden, debating if it were best to en-

deavor to run and gain the gate. This gate was secured

by a lock arid a couple of bolts. Maurice drew back the

bolts, tried to open the lock, but it had no key.

In the meantime, his pursuers, who had reached the

steps, perceived him.

" There he is ! " cried they ; " fire upon him, Dixmer, fire! Kill him kill him!"

Maurice tittered a groan ; he was enclosed in the gar-

den ; he measured the walls with his eye they were ten

feet in height.

All this passed in a moment. The assassins rushed for-

ward in pursuit of him.

Maurice was about thirty feet in advance, or nearly so ;

he looked round about him with the air of a condemned

man who seeks concealment as the means of saving him-

self from the reality. He perceived the turret the

blind and behind the blind the light burning.

He made but one bound a bound of six feet seized

the blind, tore it down, passed through the window,

THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. (ft

smashing it, and alighted in a chamber where a female

sat reading.

The female rose, terrified, calling for assistance.

" Stand aside, Genevieve stand aside ! " cried the voice of Dixmer ; " stand aside,that I may kill him I"

And Maurice saw the carbine leveled at him. But

scarcely had the woman looked at him, than she uttered

a frightful cry, and instead of standing aside, as desired

by her husband, rushed between him and the barrel of

the gun.

This movement concentrated all Maurice's attention to

the generous woman, whose first impulse was to protect

him from danger and death. In his turn he uttered aery

of astonishment.

It was the long sought-for unknown.

"You !" cried he ; ''you "

"Silence ! " cried she.

Then, turning toward the assassins, who, variously

armed, approached the window :

" Ah ! you will not kill him ! " cried she.

" He is a spy," said Dixmer, whose usually placid coiintenance had assumed an expression of stern resolution ; "he is a spy, and, therefore, must die."

"A spy he? "said Genevieve ; "he a spy! Come here, Dixmer. I need only say one word to prove that

you are strangely deceived."

Dixmer and Genevieve approached the window, and in

a low voice she uttered a few words. The master tanuer

raised his head quickly.

" He ! " said he.

" He himself," said Genevieve.

" You are certain quite certain ?"

This time the young woman did not reply, but smiling,

held out her hand to Maurice.

The features of Dixmer now assumed a singular ex-

pression of gentleness and indifference. He placed the

butt-end of his musket on the ground.

" This is quite another thing," said he.

Then making a sign to his companions to follow, he

62 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

stepped aside with them, and after saying a few words,