Percy James Brebner

“ Every woman would appreciate her action, every woman who had loved; the prisoner finding her in danger had hidden her, could not every lover understand his doing so? Here was no conspiracy against the people but a romance, a tale of lovers, which some poet might well make a song of for all true lovers to sing. Certainly Lucien Bruslart was not deserving of death.
There was applause when Latour finished, but many hisses. A woman's voice cried out that it appeared as though Citizen Latour loved the emigré himself, and laughter and a nodding of heads greeted the sally. ”

“ Lucien Bruslart is to marry me."
Latour showed no surprise. "Have you ever seen this Jeanne St. Clair?" he asked.
"Never."
"You were not voluntarily there that day in her place, so that she might escape?"
"No. I am a patriot and hate all aristocrats. I am woman enough to hate this one particularly since Lucien once cared for her."
"When one's life is at stake, it is easy to lie if a lie will be useful, but I believe you, citizeness," said Latour. "I wish to be your friend, that kind of friend who is honest even if honesty gives pain. ”

“ Save in years and experience, this was the same Richard Barrington who had dreamed as he watched sunlit sails disappear in the haze over Chesapeake Bay.
"I was thinking of the horses," said Seth. "I reckon that we have a long way to travel yet."
"We may get others presently," Barrington answered, and then, after a moment's pause, he went on: "We have seen some strange sights since we landed—ruined homes, small and great, burned and desolated by the peasants; and in the last few hours we have heard queer tales. I do not know how matters stand, but it looks as if we might be useful in Paris. ”

“ Patriotism, wrong headed though it may be, will clothe its enthusiasts with a kind of honor which cannot be bribed, but how many real patriots are there in Paris? Are the ragged and filthy men and women of the streets patriots? I warrant a fistful of gold thrown by the man they cursed would bring him a very hurricane of blessings."
"You do not understand the people, monsieur," answered Bruslart. "They would scramble for your gold and cry for more, but they would still curse you. The mob is king."
"There is the individual, monsieur," said Barrington. ”

“ The visitor had swaggered up the Rue Valette, conscious that some turned to look at him as a man to be feared and respected, yet his manner changed as he passed through the alley, the swagger lessened with each step he mounted, and when Latour opened the door to him, the visitor was full of respect, almost cringing respect. Here was a strange caricature of equality!
"Welcome, Sabatier, I was thinking of you. What news?"
"The best. She has come. To-night she is a league from Paris at the tavern of the Lion d'Or on the Soisy road." ”

“ I've been to Beauvais, playing the aristocrat, and doing it so well that one cursed head is already being carried to Paris by its owner, and others will follow."
Jeanne crouched on the stairs, holding her breath.
"Long live Mercier!" came the cry.
There was an instant's silence, then a thud as a man jumped from a cask, overturning it as he did so.
"The woman upstairs! The peasant woman! There are plenty of heads in Paris. Why not to-night, here, outside the Lion d'Or? Madame Guillotine is not the only method for aristocrats." ”

“ Deep down in his heart he had never really trusted Lucien Bruslart, and all this time Jeanne had been in his hands. Bruslart then had lied from the first, had imposed upon him his feigned grief, and all the time he had been perfecting some foul plot. What had become of Jeanne? The horrible possibilities unnerved him, took the heart out of him. He was as a man who when brought face to face with peril is afraid, who shrinks back and would fly if he could. Latour knew nothing of the thoughts rushing through Barrington's brain, he only saw a man with the courage suddenly gone out of him ”

“ No beauty can do away with the fact that it is only a land of exile, to be endured and made the best of for a while, never to be really loved. There is coming an hour in which he may return home, and he is forever looking forward, counting the days. The present must be lived, but reality lies in the future.
The Marquise de Rovère, brilliant, witty, proud as any woman in France, daughter of ancestors famous during the time of the fourteenth and fifteenth Louis, had in the long past a forbear who was lord of this château of Beauvais. ”

“ It is a battlecry which has stirred hearts, and sent ill-conditioned men to face trained regiments, which are surprised when such a ragged rabble does not turn and run. Courage is under those rags and something of true patriotism. But there are other patriots in Paris, and of a different sort. The frontiers are a long way off, but here to hand is work for them, work which is easy and pleases them. The Place de la Revolution is their battlefield where they can yell their war crys and their war songs; their weapon is the guillotine, and the guillotine is always victorious. ”

“ Then suddenly had come the change, the tide of revolution. The people were the masters. He was of the people, of growing importance among them. The impossible became the possible. He had education, power he would have. Strong men have made their appeal to women, the world over, in every age. Why should not this woman love him? The very stars seemed to have fought for him. She would be here to-morrow, here in Paris, in danger; here, in these rooms, with no man so able to protect her as himself. ”

“ Had I wanted to marry her, what was to prevent my crossing the frontier when so many of my friends and acquaintances did? But I am in love with her fortune. If I am to make myself felt in Paris, if I am to do what I have set my heart to accomplish, money I must have. True, I am not penniless like some of our ragged patriotic comrades, but, believe me, power will eventually rest with the man who can scatter the most gold to the people. That man I am scheming to be. ”

“ She was a woman designed for happiness and laughter, Barrington thought, and he felt she was not happy. He wondered if there were not tears in those violet eyes, and he had a sudden longing to behold her without a mask. It would have been easy for her to make him again forget his mission, and why he was in the château of Beauvais. Youth recognized youth, and that indefinite longing which is a part of youth seemed to enfold them for an instant. ”

“ Citizen Latour, feared in Paris, powerful in the Convention, greater than Robespierre so some had declared, was a traitor. Justice demanded quick punishment, and the mob, more powerful than Justice, clamored for it. There was proof enough against him; a score of witnesses if necessary. Why hear them all? There was no need for a long trial, and what advocate would have courage sufficient to speak for this prisoner?
Raymond Latour faced his enemies alone, his face still set, full of purpose. No man uttered a word in his favor, no single expression of pity met him. ”

“ In the fierce struggle of an unequal fight a man thinks little. The forcible present of each moment obliterates the past and future. Just for one instant it occurred to Barrington that Jeanne might possibly escape unnoticed if Seth and he fought savagely enough, and the next moment he was putting this idea into action without any thought beyond it. In the doorway there were men holding dim lanterns, and the light flickered on savage faces, now here, now there. The room seemed full of men, crowded, there was hardly room to fight effectually. ”

“ He was a product of the Revolution, as were thousands of others walking the Paris streets, or busy with villainies in country places; character was complex by force of circumstances, which, under other conditions, might have been simple and straightforward. With some a certain straightforwardness remained, not always directed to wrong ends. It was so in Lucien Bruslart. It was not easy for him to be a scoundrel, and self was not always master. Even with Pauline Vaison in his arms he thought of Jeanne St. Clair, and shuddered at the way he had spoken of her to this woman. ”

“ It stole in to touch the faces of many sleepers, innocent sleepers, in hiding and in prison, who for a little while had forgotten their fear and peril; brutal sleepers who for a little space lay harmless, heavy with satisfied lust and wine. It stole into empty rooms, rooms that should be occupied; into Legrand's house in the Rue Charonne where two beds had not been slept in; into hovels in narrow byways of the city to which men and women had not returned last night, but had spent the sleeping hours, as befitted such patriots, in revelry and songs and wine. ”

“ I am afraid, citizens, she has some case against me, for I grew tired of her long ago."
"She does not believe that, nor do I, for that matter," said Boissin.
"What you believe is a matter of indifference to me, citizen," returned Bruslart, "and as for the woman—well, she is in the Abbaye. Not every man gets rid of his tiresome lovers as easily as I am likely to do. More wine, landlord. We'll drink long life to liberty and death to all aristocrats. ”

“ A savage growl was the answer.
"They're safe over the frontier, aren't they?" laughed Mercier. "They won't bring their heads to Paris to pleasure Madame Guillotine, will they? No," cried Mercier, clasping a bottle by the neck and striking the table with it so that it smashed and the red wine ran like blood. "No, they think they're safer where they are. The only way is to fetch them back. Lie to them, cheat them until we get them in France. ”

“ Keep within doors, Master Richard, until it is safe for us to sneak away."
"You know that is impossible."
"Mademoiselle has escaped," said Seth. "It is now your turn to seek safety."
"With her escape my part commences," said Barrington, with a laugh that had happiness in it. "It is for me to take her back to Beauvais or elsewhere to safety."
"It is madness to think of it," said Seth. "To be in your company would increase her danger. Think of her, Master Richard, think of her. Your lust for romantic adventure makes you selfish. For days to come you are a marked man. ”

“ No, citizen, the words do not refer to you, you are no longer an aristocrat," Latour went on quickly. "Still, a word of friendly advice, you talk too much like one. I understand, but the people are ignorant."
"Thank you for your advice. I must be myself whatever else I am."
"As a patriot it would be well to think no more of mademoiselle," Latour went on. "Such love is unnatural the people will affirm. Are there not women in Paris as beautiful? Find one to love and there will be proof of your patriotism." ”

“ This house, although one of the best known, was not the only one of its kind to be found in Paris. Legrand was a man of business as well as a doctor, a better man of business than he was a doctor, and perceived, almost by a stroke of genius, how he might profit by the Revolution. To many a revolutionary leader gold was better than the head of an aristocrat, although by that curious twist of conscience which men can so easily contrive for themselves, direct bribery was not to be thought of. ”

“ The thought of a woman in such a crowd hurt me, citizen."
"Some time we might be of service to each other," the man returned. "It is good to have a friend one can trust in these days. Unless I am much mistaken, I can be of service to you. My way is the same as yours if you will allow it. There is a shop yonder where the wine is good and where, until that shouting crowd comes home again, we shall attract no notice." ”

“ I do not think he would be afraid of the guillotine."
"You love him," said Latour, sharply.
"Yes;" and then she went on passionately, "Have you revolutionaries not yet learned that death is but a passing evil, and that there are men and women who do not fear death? I love Richard Barrington; his death or mine cannot alter that, and do you suppose I would purchase life by a promise to you or any other man in the world?"
"Yet he shall plead my cause for me. For himself he may not be a coward, but for the woman he loves he will be. ”

“ The days and nights were too full for settled times of rest. In his little sphere he was a man of consequence, not of such importance as he imagined, but, nevertheless, before his fellows. He had been at the storming of the Bastille, that gave him prestige; he had a truculent swagger which counted in these days, especially if there had been no opportunity of being proved a coward. Perchance Sabatier had never been put to the test. In a rabble it is easy to shout loudly, yet be where the danger is least, and this wide-mouthed patriot had much to say about himself. ”

“ Everything might depend on prompt action when the moment came. Few men could remain so patiently inactive as Seth, once he was convinced that inaction was the best course to pursue. This Latour had not lied to him. The promised letter from Richard Barrington had been given to him, he knew that it was genuine, and was content to obey that letter. For the time being he was as little interested in politics as Fargeau was, and the news of the king's trial which came into this quiet retreat had an unreal sound about it, like a faint echo of something happening a great way off. ”

“ Was Raymond Latour as strong a man as some declared? Was he safest as a friend or as an enemy? Once more the votes were counted. Louis Capet must die, that fact remained unaltered, but there was added something more to the sentence, he must die within twenty-four hours. It was a merciful addition perchance, though not so intended; the shorter the time, the less the suffering. Patriotic Paris flung its red cap into the air, rejoicing greatly. Less than twenty-four hours to wait for the greatest amusement that had yet been vouchsafed to the mob. ”