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+
+
+
+
+Produced by J.C. Byers and L.M. Shaf
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ELUSIVE PIMPERNEL
+
+By Baroness Orczy
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+     I.       Paris: 1793
+     II.      A Retrospect
+     III.     Ex-Ambassador Chauvelin
+     IV.      The Richmond Gala
+     V.       Sir Percy and His Lady
+     VI.      For the Poor of Paris
+     VII.     Premonition
+     VIII.    The Invitation
+     IX.      Demoiselle Candeille
+     X.       Lady Blakeney's Rout
+     XI.      The Challenge
+     XII.     Time -- Place -- Conditions
+     XIII.    Reflections
+     XIV.     The Ruling Passion
+     XV.      Farewell
+     XVI.     The Passport
+     XVII.    Boulogne
+     XVIII.   No. 6
+     XIX.     The Strength of the Weak
+     XX.      Triumph
+     XXI.     Suspense
+     XXII.    Not Death
+     XXIII.   The Hostage
+     XXIV.    Colleagues
+     XXV.     The Unexpected
+     XXVI.    The Terms of the Bargain
+     XXVII.   The Decision
+     XXVIII.  The Midnight Watch
+     XXIX.    The National Fete
+     XXX.     The Procession
+     XXXI.    Final Dispositions
+     XXXII.   The Letter
+     XXXIII.  The English Spy
+     XXXIV.   The Angelus
+     XXXV.    Marguerite
+
+
+
+
+
+Chapter I: Paris: 1793
+
+There was not even a reaction.
+
+On! ever on! in that wild, surging torrent; sowing the wind of anarchy,
+of terrorism, of lust of blood and hate, and reaping a hurricane of
+destruction and of horror.
+
+On! ever on! France, with Paris and all her children still rushes
+blindly, madly on; defies the powerful coalition,--Austria, England,
+Spain, Prussia, all joined together to stem the flow of carnage,--defies
+the Universe and defies God!
+
+Paris this September 1793!--or shall we call it Vendemiaire, Year I.
+of the Republic?--call it what we will! Paris! a city of bloodshed, of
+humanity in its lowest, most degraded aspect. France herself a gigantic
+self-devouring monster, her fairest cities destroyed, Lyons razed to the
+ground, Toulon, Marseilles, masses of blackened ruins, her bravest sons
+turned to lustful brutes or to abject cowards seeking safety at the cost
+of any humiliation.
+
+That is thy reward, oh mighty, holy Revolution! apotheosis of equality
+and fraternity! grand rival of decadent Christianity.
+
+Five weeks now since Marat, the bloodthirsty Friend of the People,
+succumbed beneath the sheath-knife of a virgin patriot, a month since
+his murderess walked proudly, even enthusiastically, to the guillotine!
+There has been no reaction--only a great sigh!... Not of content or
+satisfied lust, but a sigh such as the man-eating tiger might heave
+after his first taste of long-coveted blood.
+
+A sigh for more!
+
+A king on the scaffold; a queen degraded and abased, awaiting death,
+which lingers on the threshold of her infamous prison; eight hundred
+scions of ancient houses that have made the history of France; brave
+generals, Custine, Blanchelande, Houchard, Beauharnais; worthy patriots,
+noble-hearted women, misguided enthusiasts, all by the score and by the
+hundred, up the few wooden steps which lead to the guillotine.
+
+An achievement of truth!
+
+And still that sigh for more!
+
+But for the moment,--a few seconds only,--Paris looked round her mighty
+self, and thought things over!
+
+The man-eating tiger for the space of a sigh licked his powerful jaws
+and pondered!
+
+Something new!--something wonderful!
+
+We have had a new Constitution, a new Justice, new Laws, a new Almanack!
+
+What next?
+
+Why, obviously!--How comes it that great, intellectual, aesthetic Paris
+never thought of such a wonderful thing before?
+
+A new religion!
+
+Christianity is old and obsolete, priests are aristocrats, wealthy
+oppressors of the People, the Church but another form of wanton tyranny.
+
+Let us by all means have a new religion.
+
+Already something has been done to destroy the old! To destroy! always
+to destroy! Churches have been ransacked, altars spoliated, tombs
+desecrated, priests and curates murdered; but that is not enough.
+
+There must be a new religion; and to attain that there must be a new
+God.
+
+"Man is a born idol-worshipper."
+
+Very well then! let the People have a new religion and a new God.
+
+Stay!--Not a God this time!--for God means Majesty, Power, Kingship!
+everything in fact which the mighty hand of the people of France has
+struggled and fought to destroy.
+
+Not a God, but a goddess.
+
+A goddess! an idol! a toy! since even the man-eating tiger must play
+sometimes.
+
+Paris wanted a new religion, and a new toy, and grave men, ardent
+patriots, mad enthusiasts, sat in the Assembly of the Convention and
+seriously discussed the means of providing her with both these things
+which she asked for.
+
+Chaumette, I think it was, who first solved the difficulty:--Procureur
+Chaumette, head of the Paris Municipality, he who had ordered that
+the cart which bore the dethroned queen to the squalid prison of the
+Conciergerie should be led slowly past her own late palace of the
+Tuileries, and should be stopped there just long enough for her to see
+and to feel in one grand mental vision all that she had been when she
+dwelt there, and all that she now was by the will of the People.
+
+Chaumette, as you see, was refined, artistic;--the torture of the fallen
+Queen's heart meant more to him than a blow of the guillotine on her
+neck.
+
+No wonder, therefore, that it was Procureur Chaumette who first
+discovered exactly what type of new religion Paris wanted just now.
+
+"Let us have a Goddess of Reason," he said, "typified if you will by
+the most beautiful woman in Paris. Let us have a feast of the Goddess of
+Reason, let there be a pyre of all the gew-gaws which for centuries
+have been flaunted by overbearing priests before the eyes of starving
+multitudes, let the People rejoice and dance around that funeral pile,
+and above it all let the new Goddess tower smiling and triumphant. The
+Goddess of Reason! the only deity our new and regenerate France shall
+acknowledge throughout the centuries which are to come!"
+
+Loud applause greeted the impassioned speech.
+
+"A new goddess, by all means!" shouted the grave gentlemen of the
+National Assembly, "the Goddess of Reason!"
+
+They were all eager that the People should have this toy; something to
+play with and to tease, round which to dance the mad Carmagnole and sing
+the ever-recurring "Ca ira."
+
+Something to distract the minds of the populace from the consequences of
+its own deeds, and the helplessness of its legislators.
+
+Procureur Chaumette enlarged upon his original idea; like a true artist
+who sees the broad effect of a picture at a glance and then fills in the
+minute details, he was already busy elaborating his scheme.
+
+"The goddess must be beautiful... not too young... Reason can only go
+hand in hand with the riper age of second youth... she must be decked
+out in classical draperies, severe yet suggestive... she must be rouged
+and painted... for she is a mere idol... easily to be appeased with
+incense, music and laughter."
+
+He was getting deeply interested in his subject, seeking minutiae of
+detail, with which to render his theme more and more attractive.
+
+But patience was never the characteristic of the Revolutionary
+Government of France. The National Assembly soon tired of Chaumette's
+dithyrambic utterances. Up aloft on the Mountain, Danton was yawning
+like a gigantic leopard.
+
+Soon Henriot was on his feet. He had a far finer scheme than that of
+the Procureur to place before his colleagues. A grand National fete,
+semi-religious in character, but of the new religion which destroyed and
+desecrated and never knelt in worship.
+
+Citizen Chaumette's Goddess of Reason by all means--Henriot conceded
+that the idea was a good one--but the goddess merely as a figure-head:
+around her a procession of unfrocked and apostate priests, typifying
+the destruction of ancient hierarchy, mules carrying loads of sacred
+vessels, the spoils of ten thousand churches of France, and ballet girls
+in bacchanalian robes, dancing the Carmagnole around the new deity.
+
+Public Prosecutor Foucquier Tinville thought all these schemes very
+tame. Why should the People of France be led to think that the era of
+a new religion would mean an era of milk and water, of pageants and of
+fireworks? Let every man, woman, and child know that this was an era of
+blood and again of blood.
+
+"Oh!" he exclaimed in passionate accents, "would that all the traitors
+in France had but one head, that it might be cut off with one blow of
+the guillotine!"
+
+He approved of the National fete, but he desired an apotheosis of the
+guillotine; he undertook to find ten thousand traitors to be beheaded on
+one grand and glorious day: ten thousand heads to adorn the Place de
+la Revolution on a great, never-to-be-forgotten evening, after the
+guillotine had accomplished this record work.
+
+But Collot d'Herbois would also have his say. Collot lately hailed from
+the South, with a reputation for ferocity unparalleled throughout the
+whole of this horrible decade. He would not be outdone by Tinville's
+bloodthirsty schemes.
+
+He was the inventor of the "Noyades," which had been so successful at
+Lyons and Marseilles. "Why not give the inhabitants of Paris one of
+these exhilarating spectacles?" he asked with a coarse, brutal laugh.
+
+Then he explained his invention, of which he was inordinately proud.
+Some two or three hundred traitors, men, women, and children, tied
+securely together with ropes in great, human bundles and thrown upon a
+barge in the middle of the river: the barge with a hole in her bottom!
+not too large! only sufficient to cause her to sink slowly, very slowly,
+in sight of the crowd of delighted spectators.
+
+The cries of the women and children, and even of the men, as they felt
+the waters rising and gradually enveloping them, as they felt themselves
+powerless even for a fruitless struggle, had proved most exhilarating,
+so Citizen Collot declared, to the hearts of the true patriots of Lyons.
+
+Thus the discussion continued.
+
+This was the era when every man had but one desire, that of outdoing
+others in ferocity and brutality, and but one care, that of saving his
+own head by threatening that of his neighbour.
+
+The great duel between the Titanic leaders of these turbulent parties,
+the conflict between hot-headed Danton on the one side and cold-blooded
+Robespierre on the other, had only just begun; the great, all-devouring
+monsters had dug their claws into one another, but the issue of the
+combat was still at stake.
+
+Neither of these two giants had taken part in these deliberations anent
+the new religion and the new goddess. Danton gave signs now and then
+of the greatest impatience, and muttered something about a new form of
+tyranny, a new kind of oppression.
+
+On the left, Robespierre in immaculate sea-green coat and carefully
+gauffered linen was quietly polishing the nails of his right hand
+against the palm of his left.
+
+But nothing escaped him of what was going on. His ferocious egoism, his
+unbounded ambition was even now calculating what advantages to himself
+might accrue from this idea of the new religion and of the National
+fete, what personal aggrandisement he could derive therefrom.
+
+The matter outwardly seemed trivial enough, but already his keen and
+calculating mind had seen various side issues which might tend to place
+him--Robespierre--on a yet higher and more unassailable pinnacle.
+
+Surrounded by those who hated him, those who envied and those who feared
+him, he ruled over them all by the strength of his own cold-blooded
+savagery, by the resistless power of his merciless cruelty.
+
+He cared about nobody but himself, about nothing but his own exaltation:
+every action of his career, since he gave up his small practice in a
+quiet provincial town in order to throw himself into the wild vortex
+of revolutionary politics, every word he ever uttered had but one
+aim--Himself.
+
+He saw his colleagues and comrades of the old Jacobin Clubs ruthlessly
+destroyed around him: friends he had none, and all left him indifferent;
+and now he had hundreds of enemies in every assembly and club in Paris,
+and these too one by one were being swept up in that wild whirlpool
+which they themselves had created.
+
+Impassive, serene, always ready with a calm answer, when passion
+raged most hotly around him, Robespierre, the most ambitious, most
+self-seeking demagogue of his time, had acquired the reputation of being
+incorruptible and selfless, an enthusiastic servant of the Republic.
+
+The sea-green Incorruptible!
+
+And thus whilst others talked and argued, waxed hot over schemes for
+processions and pageantry, or loudly denounced the whole matter as the
+work of a traitor, he, of the sea-green coat, sat quietly polishing his
+nails.
+
+But he had already weighed all these discussions in the balance of his
+mind, placed them in the crucible of his ambition, and turned them into
+something that would benefit him and strengthen his position.
+
+Aye! the feast should be brilliant enough! gay or horrible, mad or
+fearful, but through it all the people of France must be made to feel
+that there was a guiding hand which ruled the destinies of all, a head
+which framed the new laws, which consolidated the new religion and
+established its new goddess: the Goddess of Reason.
+
+Robespierre, her prophet!
+
+
+
+
+Chapter II: A Retrospect
+
+
+
+The room was close and dark, filled with the smoke from a defective
+chimney.
+
+A tiny boudoir, once the dainty sanctum of imperious Marie Antoinette; a
+faint and ghostly odour, like unto the perfume of spectres, seemed still
+to cling to the stained walls, and to the torn Gobelin tapestries.
+
+Everywhere lay the impress of a heavy and destroying hand: that of the
+great and glorious Revolution.
+
+In the mud-soiled corners of the room a few chairs, with brocaded
+cushions rudely torn, leant broken and desolate against the walls. A
+small footstool, once gilt-legged and satin-covered, had been overturned
+and roughly kicked to one side, and there it lay on its back, like some
+little animal that had been hurt, stretching its broken limbs upwards,
+pathetic to behold.
+
+From the delicately wrought Buhl table the silver inlay had been harshly
+stripped out of its bed of shell.
+
+Across the Lunette, painted by Boucher and representing a chaste
+Diana surrounded by a bevy of nymphs, an uncouth hand had scribbled in
+charcoal the device of the Revolution: Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite
+ou la Mort; whilst, as if to give a crowning point to the work of
+destruction and to emphasise its motto, someone had decorated the
+portrait of Marie Antoinette with a scarlet cap, and drawn a red and
+ominous line across her neck.
+
+And at the table two men were sitting in close and eager conclave.
+
+Between them a solitary tallow candle, unsnuffed and weirdly flickering,
+threw fantastic shadows upon the walls, and illumined with fitful and
+uncertain light the faces of the two men.
+
+How different were these in character!
+
+One, high cheek-boned, with coarse, sensuous lips, and hair elaborately
+and carefully powdered; the other pale and thin-lipped, with the keen
+eyes of a ferret and a high intellectual forehead, from which the sleek
+brown hair was smoothly brushed away.
+
+The first of these men was Robespierre, the ruthless and incorruptible
+demagogue; the other was Citizen Chauvelin, ex-ambassador of the
+Revolutionary Government at the English Court.
+
+The hour was late, and the noises from the great, seething city
+preparing for sleep came to this remote little apartment in the now
+deserted Palace of the Tuileries, merely as a faint and distant echo.
+
+It was two days after the Fructidor Riots. Paul Deroulede and the woman
+Juliette Marny, both condemned to death, had been literally spirited
+away out of the cart which was conveying them from the Hall of Justice
+to the Luxembourg Prison, and news had just been received by the
+Committee of Public Safety that at Lyons, the Abbe du Mesnil, with the
+ci-devant Chevalier d'Egremont and the latter's wife and family, had
+effected a miraculous and wholly incomprehensible escape from the
+Northern Prison.
+
+But this was not all. When Arras fell into the hands of the
+Revolutionary army, and a regular cordon was formed round the town, so
+that not a single royalist traitor might escape, some three score women
+and children, twelve priests, the old aristocrats Chermeuil, Delleville
+and Galipaux and many others, managed to pass the barriers and were
+never recaptured.
+
+Raids were made on the suspected houses: in Paris chiefly where the
+escaped prisoners might have found refuge, or better still where their
+helpers and rescuers might still be lurking. Foucquier Tinville, Public
+Prosecutor, led and conducted these raids, assisted by that bloodthirsty
+vampire, Merlin. They heard of a house in the Rue de l'Ancienne Comedie
+where an Englishmen was said to have lodged for two days.
+
+They demanded admittance, and were taken to the rooms where the
+Englishman had stayed. These were bare and squalid, like hundreds of
+other rooms in the poorer quarters of Paris. The landlady, toothless and
+grimy, had not yet tidied up the one where the Englishman had slept: in
+fact she did not know he had left for good.
+
+He had paid for his room, a week in advance, and came and went as he
+liked, she explained to Citizen Tinville. She never bothered about him,
+as he never took a meal in the house, and he was only there two days.
+She did not know her lodger was English until the day he left. She
+thought he was a Frenchman from the South, as he certainly had a
+peculiar accent when he spoke.
+
+"It was the day of the riots," she continued; "he would go out, and I
+told him I did not think that the streets would be safe for a foreigner
+like him: for he always wore such very fine clothes, and I made sure
+that the starving men and women of Paris would strip them off his back
+when their tempers were roused. But he only laughed. He gave me a bit of
+paper and told me that if he did not return I might conclude that he had
+been killed, and if the Committee of Public Safety asked me questions
+about me, I was just to show the bit of paper and there would be no
+further trouble."
+
+She had talked volubly, more than a little terrified at Merlin's scowls,
+and the attitude of Citizen Tinville, who was known to be very severe if
+anyone committed any blunders.
+
+But the Citizeness--her name was Brogard and her husband's brother kept
+an inn in the neighbourhood of Calais--the Citizeness Brogard had a
+clear conscience. She held a license from the Committee of Public Safety
+for letting apartments, and she had always given due notice to the
+Committee of the arrival and departure of her lodgers. The only thing
+was that if any lodger paid her more than ordinarily well for the
+accommodation and he so desired it, she would send in the notice
+conveniently late, and conveniently vaguely worded as to the
+description, status and nationality of her more liberal patrons.
+
+This had occurred in the case of her recent English visitor.
+
+But she did not explain it quite like that to Citizen Foucquier Tinville
+or to Citizen Merlin.
+
+However, she was rather frightened, and produced the scrap of paper
+which the Englishman had left with her, together with the assurance that
+when she showed it there would be no further trouble.
+
+Tinville took it roughly out of her hand, but would not glance at it.
+He crushed it into a ball and then Merlin snatched it from him with a
+coarse laugh, smoothed out the creases on his knee and studied it for a
+moment.
+
+There were two lines of what looked like poetry, written in a language
+which Merlin did not understand. English, no doubt.
+
+But what was perfectly clear, and easily comprehended by any one, was
+the little drawing in the corner, done in red ink and representing a
+small star-shaped flower.
+
+Then Tinville and Merlin both cursed loudly and volubly, and bidding
+their men follow them, turned away from the house in the Rue de
+l'Ancienne Comedie and left its toothless landlady on her own doorstep
+still volubly protesting her patriotism and her desire to serve the
+government of the Republic.
+
+Tinville and Merlin, however, took the scrap of paper to Citizen
+Robespierre, who smiled grimly as he in his turn crushed the offensive
+little document in the palm of his well-washed hands.
+
+Robespierre did not swear. He never wasted either words or oaths, but he
+slipped the bit of paper inside the double lid of his silver snuff box
+and then he sent a special messenger to Citizen Chauvelin in the Rue
+Corneille, bidding him come that same evening after ten o'clock to room
+No. 16 in the ci-devant Palace of the Tuileries.
+
+It was now half-past ten, and Chauvelin and Robespierre sat opposite one
+another in the ex-boudoir of Queen Marie Antoinette, and between them on
+the table, just below the tallow-candle, was a much creased, exceedingly
+grimy bit of paper.
+
+It had passed through several unclean hands before Citizen Robespierre's
+immaculately white fingers had smoothed it out and placed it before the
+eyes of ex-Ambassador Chauvelin.
+
+The latter, however, was not looking at the paper, he was not even
+looking at the pale, cruel face before him. He had closed his eyes and
+for a moment had lost sight of the small dark room, of Robespierre's
+ruthless gaze, of the mud-stained walls and greasy floor. He was seeing,
+as in a bright and sudden vision, the brilliantly-lighted salons of the
+Foreign Office in London, with beautiful Marguerite Blakeney gliding
+queenlike on the arm of the Prince of Wales.
+
+He heard the flutter of many fans, the frou-frou of silk dresses, and
+above all the din and sound of dance music, he heard an inane laugh and
+an affected voice repeating the doggerel rhyme that was even now written
+on that dirty piece of paper which Robespierre had placed before him:
+
+     "We seek him here, and we seek him there,
+      Those Frenchies seek him everywhere!
+      Is he in heaven, is he in hell,
+      That demmed elusive Pimpernel?"
+
+It was a mere flash! One of memory's swiftly effaced pictures, when she
+shows us for the fraction of a second, indelible pictures from out our
+past. Chauvelin, in that same second, while his own eyes were closed
+and Robespierre's fixed upon him, also saw the lonely cliffs of Calais,
+heard the same voice singing: "God save the King!" the volley of
+musketry, the despairing cries of Marguerite Blakeney; and once again he
+felt the keen and bitter pang of complete humiliation and defeat.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter III: Ex-Ambassador Chauvelin
+
+
+
+Robespierre had quietly waited the while. He was in no hurry: being a
+night-bird of very pronounced tastes, he was quite ready to sit here
+until the small hours of the morning watching Citizen Chauvelin mentally
+writhing in the throes of recollections of the past few months.
+
+There was nothing that delighted the sea-green Incorruptible quite so
+much as the aspect of a man struggling with a hopeless situation and
+feeling a net of intrigue drawing gradually tighter and tighter around
+him.
+
+Even now, when he saw Chauvelin's smooth forehead wrinkled into an
+anxious frown, and his thin hand nervously clutched upon the table,
+Robespierre heaved a pleasurable sigh, leaned back in his chair, and
+said with an amiable smile:
+
+"You do agree with me, then, Citizen, that the situation has become
+intolerable?"
+
+Then as Chauvelin did not reply, he continued, speaking more sharply:
+
+"And how terribly galling it all is, when we could have had that man
+under the guillotine by now, if you had not blundered so terribly last
+year."
+
+His voice had become hard and trenchant like that knife to which he was
+so ready to make constant allusion. But Chauvelin still remained silent.
+There was really nothing that he could say.
+
+"Citizen Chauvelin, how you must hate that man!" exclaimed Robespierre
+at last.
+
+Then only did Chauvelin break the silence which up to now he had
+appeared to have forced himself to keep.
+
+"I do!" he said with unmistakable fervour.
+
+"Then why do you not make an effort to retrieve the blunders of last
+year?" queried Robespierre blandly. "The Republic has been unusually
+patient and long-suffering with you, Citizen Chauvelin. She has taken
+your many services and well-known patriotism into consideration. But
+you know," he added significantly, "that she has no use for worthless
+tools."
+
+Then as Chauvelin seemed to have relapsed into sullen silence, he
+continued with his original ill-omened blandness:
+
+"Ma foi! Citizen Chauvelin, were I standing in your buckled shoes, I
+would not lose another hour in trying to avenge mine own humiliation!"
+
+"Have I ever had a chance?" burst out Chauvelin with ill-suppressed
+vehemence. "What can I do single-handed? Since war has been declared
+I cannot go to England unless the Government will find some official
+reason for my doing so. There is much grumbling and wrath over here, and
+when that damned Scarlet Pimpernel League has been at work, when a score
+or so of valuable prizes have been snatched from under the very knife
+of the guillotine, then, there is much gnashing of teeth and useless
+cursings, but nothing serious or definite is done to smother those
+accursed English flies which come buzzing about our ears."
+
+"Nay! you forget, Citizen Chauvelin," retorted Robespierre, "that we of
+the Committee of Public Safety are far more helpless than you. You
+know the language of these people, we don't. You know their manners and
+customs, their ways of thought, the methods they are likely to employ:
+we know none of these things. You have seen and spoken to men in England
+who are members of that damned League. You have seen the man who is its
+leader. We have not."
+
+He leant forward on the table and looked more searchingly at the thin,
+pallid face before him.
+
+"If you named that leader to me now, if you described him, we could
+go to work more easily. You could name him, and you would, Citizen
+Chauvelin."
+
+"I cannot," retorted Chauvelin doggedly.
+
+"Ah! but I think you could. But there! I do not blame your silence. You
+would wish to reap the reward of your own victory, to be the instrument
+of your own revenge. Passions! I think it natural! But in the name of
+your own safety, Citizen, do not be too greedy with your secret. If the
+man is known to you, find him again, find him, lure him to France! We
+want him--the people want him! And if the people do not get what they
+want, they will turn on those who have withheld their prey."
+
+"I understand, Citizen, that your own safety and that of your government
+is involved in this renewed attempt to capture the Scarlet Pimpernel,"
+retorted Chauvelin drily.
+
+"And your head, Citizen Chauvelin," concluded Robespierre.
+
+"Nay! I know that well enough, and you may believe me, and you will,
+Citizen, when I say that I care but little about that. The question is,
+if I am to lure that man to France what will you and your government do
+to help me?"
+
+"Everything," replied Robespierre, "provided you have a definite plan
+and a definite purpose.
+
+"I have both. But I must go to England in, at least, a semi-official
+capacity. I can do nothing if I am to hide in disguise in out-of-the-way
+corners."
+
+"That is easily done. There has been some talk with the British
+authorities anent the security and welfare of peaceful French subjects
+settled in England. After a good deal of correspondence they have
+suggested our sending a semi-official representative over there to look
+after the interests of our own people commercially and financially.
+We can easily send you over in that capacity if it would suit your
+purpose."
+
+"Admirably. I have only need of a cloak. That one will do as well as
+another."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Not quite. I have several plans in my head, and I must know that I
+am fully trusted. Above all, I must have power--decisive, absolute,
+illimitable power."
+
+There was nothing of the weakling about this small, sable-clad man, who
+looked the redoubtable Jacobin leader straight in the face and brought a
+firm fist resolutely down upon the table before him. Robespierre paused
+a while ere he replied; he was eying the other man keenly, trying to
+read if behind that earnest, frowning brow there did not lurk some
+selfish, ulterior motive along with that demand for absolute power.
+
+But Chauvelin did not flinch beneath that gaze which could make every
+cheek in France blanch with unnamed terror, and after that slight moment
+of hesitation Robespierre said quietly:
+
+"You shall have the complete power of a military dictator in every town
+or borough of France which you may visit. The Revolutionary Government
+shall create you, before you start for England, Supreme Head of all the
+Sub-Committees of Public Safety. This will mean that in the name of the
+safety of the Republic every order given by you, of whatsoever nature
+it might be, must be obeyed implicitly under pain of an arraignment for
+treason."
+
+Chauvelin sighed a quick, sharp sigh of intense satisfaction, which he
+did not even attempt to disguise before Robespierre.
+
+"I shall want agents," he said, "or shall we say spies? and, of course,
+money."
+
+"You shall have both. We keep a very efficient secret service in
+England and they do a great deal of good over there. There is much
+dissatisfaction in their Midland counties--you remember the Birmingham
+riots? They were chiefly the work of our own spies. Then you know
+Candeille, the actress? She had found her way among some of those
+circles in London who have what they call liberal tendencies. I believe
+they are called Whigs. Funny name, isn't it? It means perruque, I think.
+Candeille has given charity performances in aid of our Paris poor,
+in one or two of these Whig clubs, and incidentally she has been very
+useful to us."
+
+"A woman is always useful in such cases. I shall seek out the Citizeness
+Candeille."
+
+"And if she renders you useful assistance, I think I can offer her
+what should prove a tempting prize. Women are so vain!" he added,
+contemplating with rapt attention the enamel-like polish on his
+finger-nails. "There is a vacancy in the Maison Moliere. Or--what might
+prove more attractive still--in connection with the proposed National
+fete, and the new religion for the people, we have not yet chosen
+a Goddess of Reason. That should appeal to any feminine mind. The
+impersonation of a goddess, with processions, pageants, and the rest...
+Great importance and prominence given to one personality.... What
+say you, Citizen? If you really have need of a woman for the furtherance
+of your plans, you have that at your disposal which may enhance her
+zeal."
+
+"I thank you, Citizen," rejoined Chauvelin calmly. "I always entertained
+a hope that some day the Revolutionary Government would call again on
+my services. I admit that I failed last year. The Englishman is
+resourceful. He has wits and he is very rich. He would not have
+succeeded, I think, but for his money--and corruption and bribery are
+rife in Paris and on our coasts. He slipped through my fingers at the
+very moment when I thought that I held him most securely. I do admit all
+that, but I am prepared to redeem my failure of last year, and... there
+is nothing more to discuss.--I am ready to start."
+
+He looked round for his cloak and hat, and quietly readjusted the set
+of his neck-tie. But Robespierre detained him a while longer: that
+born mountebank, born torturer of the souls of men, had not gloated
+sufficiently yet on the agony of mind of this fellow-man.
+
+Chauvelin had always been trusted and respected. His services in
+connection with the foreign affairs of the Revolutionary Government had
+been invaluable, both before and since the beginning of the European
+War. At one time he formed part of that merciless decemvirate
+which--with Robespierre at its head--meant to govern France by laws of
+bloodshed and of unparalleled ferocity.
+
+But the sea-green Incorruptible had since tired of him, then had
+endeavoured to push him on one side, for Chauvelin was keen and clever,
+and, moreover, he possessed all those qualities of selfless patriotism
+which were so conspicuously lacking in Robespierre.
+
+His failure in bringing that interfering Scarlet Pimpernel to justice
+and the guillotine had completed Chauvelin's downfall. Though not
+otherwise molested, he had been left to moulder in obscurity during this
+past year. He would soon enough have been completely forgotten.
+
+Now he was not only to be given one more chance to regain public favour,
+but he had demanded powers which in consideration of the aim in
+view, Robespierre himself could not refuse to grant him. But the
+Incorruptible, ever envious and jealous, would not allow him to exult
+too soon.
+
+With characteristic blandness he seemed to be entering into all
+Chauvelin's schemes, to be helping in every way he could, for there
+was something at the back of his mind which he meant to say to the
+ex-ambassador, before the latter took his leave: something which
+would show him that he was but on trial once again, and which would
+demonstrate to him with perfect clearness that over him there hovered
+the all-powerful hand of a master.
+
+"You have but to name the sum you want, Citizen Chauvelin," said the
+Incorruptible, with an encouraging smile, "the government will not stint
+you, and you shall not fail for lack of authority or for lack of funds."
+
+"It is pleasant to hear that the government has such uncounted wealth,"
+remarked Chauvelin with dry sarcasm.
+
+"Oh! the last few weeks have been very profitable," retorted
+Robespierre; "we have confiscated money and jewels from emigrant
+royalists to the tune of several million francs. You remember the
+traitor Juliette Marny, who escape to England lately? Well! her mother's
+jewels and quite a good deal of gold were discovered by one of our most
+able spies to be under the care of a certain Abbe Foucquet, a calotin
+from Boulogne--devoted to the family, so it seems."
+
+"Yes?" queried Chauvelin indifferently.
+
+"Our men seized the jewels and gold, that is all. We don't know yet what
+we mean to do with the priest. The fisherfolk of Boulogne like him, and
+we can lay our hands on him at any time, if we want his old head for
+the guillotine. But the jewels were worth having. There's a historic
+necklace worth half a million at least."
+
+"Could I have it?" asked Chauvelin.
+
+Robespierre laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You said it belonged to the Marny family," continued the ex-ambassador.
+"Juliette Marny is in England. I might meet her. I cannot tell what may
+happen: but I feel that the historic necklace might prove useful. Just
+as you please," he added with renewed indifference. "It was a thought
+that flashed through my mind when you spoke--nothing more."
+
+"And to show you how thoroughly the government trusts you, Citizen
+Chauvelin," replied Robespierre with perfect urbanity, "I will myself
+direct that the Marny necklace be placed unreservedly in your hands; and
+a sum of fifty thousand francs for your expenses in England. You see,"
+he added blandly, "we give you no excuse for a second failure."
+
+"I need none," retorted Chauvelin drily, as he finally rose from his
+seat, with a sigh of satisfaction that this interview was ended at last.
+
+But Robespierre too had risen, and pushing his chair aside he took
+a step or two towards Chauvelin. He was a much taller man than the
+ex-ambassador. Spare and gaunt, he had a very upright bearing, and
+in the uncertain light of the candle he seemed to tower strangely
+and weirdly above the other man: the pale hue of his coat, his
+light- hair, the whiteness of his linen, all helped to give to
+his appearance at that moment a curious spectral effect.
+
+Chauvelin somehow felt an unpleasant shiver running down his spine as
+Robespierre, perfectly urbane and gentle in his manner, placed a long,
+bony hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Citizen Chauvelin," said the Incorruptible, with some degree of
+dignified solemnity, "meseems that we very quickly understood one
+another this evening. Your own conscience, no doubt, gave you a
+premonition of what the purport of my summons to you would be. You say
+that you always hoped the Revolutionary Government would give you one
+great chance to redeem your failure of last year. I, for one, always
+intended that you should have that chance, for I saw, perhaps, just
+a little deeper into your heart than my colleagues. I saw not only
+enthusiasm for the cause of the People of France, not only abhorrence
+for the enemy of your country, I saw a purely personal and deadly hate
+of an individual man--the unknown and mysterious Englishman who proved
+too clever for you last year. And because I believe that hatred will
+prove sharper and more far-seeing than selfless patriotism, therefore I
+urged the Committee of Public Safety to allow you to work out your own
+revenge, and thereby to serve your country more effectually than any
+other--perhaps more pure-minded patriot would do. You go to England
+well-provided with all that is necessary for the success of your plans,
+for the accomplishment of your own personal vengeance. The Revolutionary
+Government will help you with money, passports, safe conducts; it
+places its spies and agents at your disposal. It gives you practically
+unlimited power, wherever you may go. It will not enquire into your
+motives, nor yet your means, so long as these lead to success. But
+private vengeance or patriotism, whatever may actuate you, we here in
+France demand you deliver into our hands the man who is known in two
+countries as the Scarlet Pimpernel! We want him alive if possible,
+or dead if it must be so, and we want as many of his henchmen as will
+follow him to the guillotine. Get them to France, and we'll know how to
+deal with them, and let the whole of Europe be damned."
+
+He paused for a while, his hand still resting on Chauvelin's shoulder,
+his pale green eyes holding those of the other man as if in a trance.
+But Chauvelin neither stirred nor spoke. His triumph left him quite
+calm; his fertile brain was already busy with his plans. There was no
+room for fear in his heart, and it was without the slightest tremor that
+he waited for the conclusion of Robespierre's oration.
+
+"Perhaps, Citizen Chauvelin," said the latter at last, "you have already
+guessed what there is left for me to say. But lest there should remain
+in your mind one faint glimmer of doubt or of hope, let me tell you
+this. The Revolutionary Government gives you this chance of redeeming
+your failure, but this one only; if you fail again, your outraged
+country will know neither pardon nor mercy. Whether you return to France
+or remain in England, whether you travel North, South, East or West,
+cross the Oceans, or traverse the Alps, the hand of an avenging People
+will be upon you. Your second failure will be punished by death,
+wherever you may be, either by the guillotine, if you are in France, or
+if you seek refuge elsewhere, then by the hand of an assassin.
+
+"Look to it, Citizen Chauvelin! for there will be no escape this time,
+not even if the mightiest tyrant on earth tried to protect you, not even
+if you succeeded in building up an empire and placing yourself upon a
+throne."
+
+His thin, strident voice echoed weirdly in the small, close boudoir.
+Chauvelin made no reply. There was nothing that he could say. All that
+Robespierre had put so emphatically before him, he had fully realised,
+even whilst he was forming his most daring plans.
+
+It was an "either--or" this time, uttered to HIM now. He thought again
+of Marguerite Blakeney, and the terrible alternative he had put before
+HER less than a year ago.
+
+Well! he was prepared to take the risk. He would not fail again. He was
+going to England under more favourable conditions this time. He knew who
+the man was, whom he was bidden to lure to France and to death.
+
+And he returned Robespierre's threatening gaze boldly and unflinchingly;
+then he prepared to go. He took up his hat and cloak, opened the door
+and peered for a moment into the dark corridor, wherein, in the far
+distance, the steps of a solitary sentinel could be faintly heard: he
+put on his hat, turned to look once more into the room where Robespierre
+stood quietly watching him, and went his way.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter IV: The Richmond Gala
+
+
+
+It was perhaps the most brilliant September ever known in England, where
+the last days of dying summer are nearly always golden and beautiful.
+
+Strange that in this country, where that same season is so peculiarly
+radiant with a glory all its own, there should be no special expression
+in the language with which to accurately name it.
+
+So we needs must call it "fin d'ete": the ending of the summer; not the
+absolute end, nor yet the ultimate departure, but the tender lingering
+of a friend obliged to leave us anon, yet who fain would steal a day
+here and there, a week or so in which to stay with us: who would make
+that last pathetic farewell of his endure a little while longer still,
+and brings forth in gorgeous array for our final gaze all that he has
+which is most luxuriant, most desirable, most worthy of regret.
+
+And in this year of grace 1793, departing summer had lavished the
+treasures of her palette upon woodland and river banks; had tinged the
+once crude green of larch and elm with a tender hue of gold, had brushed
+the oaks with tones of warm russet, and put patches of sienna and
+crimson on the beech.
+
+In the gardens the roses were still in bloom, not the delicate blush
+or lemon ones of June, nor yet the pale Banksias and climbers, but the
+full-blooded red roses of late summer, and deep- apricot ones,
+with crinkled outside leaves faintly kissed by the frosty dew. In
+sheltered spots the purple clematis still lingered, whilst the dahlias,
+brilliant of hue, seemed overbearing in their gorgeous insolence,
+flaunting their crudely  petals against sober backgrounds of
+mellow leaves, or the dull, mossy tones of ancient, encircling walls.
+
+The Gala had always been held about the end of September. The weather,
+on the riverside, was most dependable then, and there was always
+sufficient sunshine as an excuse for bringing out Madam's last new
+muslin gown, or her pale- quilted petticoat. Then the ground
+was dry and hard, good alike for walking and for setting up tents and
+booths. And of these there was of a truth a most goodly array this year:
+mountebanks and jugglers from every corner of the world, so it seemed,
+for there was a man with a face as black as my lord's tricorne, and
+another with such flat yellow cheeks as made one think of batter
+pudding, and spring aconite, of eggs and other very yellow things.
+
+There was a tent wherein dogs--all sorts of dogs, big, little, black,
+white or tan--did things which no Christian with respect for his own
+backbone would have dared to perform, and another where a weird-faced
+old man made bean-stalks and walking sticks, coins of the realm and lace
+kerchiefs vanish into thin air.
+
+And as it was nice and hot one could sit out upon the green and listen
+to the strains of the band, which discoursed sweet music, and watch the
+young people tread a measure on the sward.
+
+The quality had not yet arrived: for humbler folk had partaken of very
+early dinner so as to get plenty of fun, and long hours of delight for
+the sixpenny toll demanded at the gates.
+
+There was so much to see and so much to do: games of bowls on the
+green, and a beautiful Aunt Sally, there was a skittle alley, and two
+merry-go-rounds: there were performing monkeys and dancing bears, a
+woman so fat that three men with arms outstretched could not get round
+her, and a man so thin that he could put a lady's bracelet round his
+neck and her garter around his waist.
+
+There were some funny little dwarfs with pinched faces and a knowing
+manner, and a giant come all the way from Russia--so 'twas said.
+
+The mechanical toys too were a great attraction. You dropped a penny
+into a little slit in a box and a doll would begin to dance and play the
+fiddle: and there was the Magic Mill, where for another modest copper
+a row of tiny figures, wrinkled and old and dressed in the shabbiest of
+rags, marched in weary procession up a flight of steps into the Mill,
+only to emerge again the next moment at a further door of this wonderful
+building looking young and gay, dressed in gorgeous finery and tripping
+a dance measure as they descended some steps and were finally lost to
+view.
+
+But what was most wonderful of all and collected the goodliest crowd of
+gazers and the largest amount of coins, was a miniature representation
+of what was going on in France even at this very moment.
+
+And you could not help but be convinced of the truth of it all, so
+cleverly was it done. There was a background of houses and a very
+red-looking sky. "Too red!" some people said, but were immediately
+quashed by the dictum of the wise, that the sky represented a sunset, as
+anyone who looked could see. Then there were a number of little figures,
+no taller than your hand, but with little wooden faces and arms and
+legs, just beautifully made little dolls, and these were dressed in
+kirtles and breeches--all rags mostly--and little coats and wooden
+shoes. They were massed together in groups with their arms all turned
+upwards.
+
+And in the center of this little stage on an elevated platform there
+were miniature wooden posts close together, and with a long flat board
+at right angles at the foot of the posts, and all painted a bright red.
+At the further end of the boards was a miniature basket, and between the
+two posts, at the top, was a miniature knife which ran up and down in a
+groove and was drawn by a miniature pulley. Folk who knew said that this
+was a model of a guillotine.
+
+And lo and behold! when you dropped a penny into a slot just below the
+wooden stage, the crowd of little figures started waving their arms up
+and down, and another little doll would ascend the elevated platform and
+lie down on the red board at the foot of the wooden posts. Then a figure
+dressed in brilliant scarlet put out an arm presumably to touch the
+pulley, and the tiny knife would rattle down on to the poor little
+reclining doll's neck, and its head would roll off into the basket
+beyond.
+
+Then there was a loud whirr of wheels, a buzz of internal mechanism, and
+all the little figures would stop dead with arms outstretched, whilst
+the beheaded doll rolled off the board and was lost to view, no doubt
+preparatory to going through the same gruesome pantomime again.
+
+It was very thrilling, and very terrible: a certain air of hushed awe
+reigned in the booth where this mechanical wonder was displayed.
+
+The booth itself stood in a secluded portion of the grounds, far from
+the toll gates, and the band stand and the noise of the merry-go-round,
+and there were great texts, written in red letters on a black ground,
+pinned all along the walls.
+
+"Please spare a copper for the starving poor of Paris."
+
+A lady, dressed in grey quilted petticoat and pretty grey and black
+striped paniers, could be seen walking in the booth from time to time,
+then disappearing through a partition beyond. She would emerge again
+presently carrying an embroidered reticule, and would wander round among
+the crowd, holding out the bag by its chain, and repeating in tones
+of somewhat monotonous appeal: "For the starving poor of Paris, if you
+please!"
+
+She had fine, dark eyes, rather narrow and tending upwards at the outer
+corners, which gave her face a not altogether pleasant expression.
+Still, they were fine eyes, and when she went round soliciting alms,
+most of the men put a hand into their breeches pocket and dropped a coin
+into her embroidered reticule.
+
+She said the word "poor" in rather a funny way, rolling the "r" at the
+end, and she also said "please" as if it were spelt with a long line of
+"e's," and so it was concluded that she was French and was begging for
+her poorer sisters. At stated intervals during the day, the mechanical
+toy was rolled into a corner, and the lady in grey stood up on a
+platform and sang queer little songs, the words of which nobody could
+understand.
+
+"Il etait une bergere et ron et petit pataplon...."
+
+But it all left an impression of sadness and of suppressed awe upon the
+minds and susceptibilities of the worthy Richmond yokels come with
+their wives or sweethearts to enjoy the fun of the fair, and gladly
+did everyone emerge out of that melancholy booth into the sunshine, the
+brightness and the noise.
+
+"Lud! but she do give me the creeps," said Mistress Polly, the pretty
+barmaid from the Bell Inn, down by the river. "And I must say that I
+don't see why we English folk should send our hard-earned pennies to
+those murdering ruffians over the water. Bein' starving so to speak,
+don't make a murderer a better man if he goes on murdering," she added
+with undisputable if ungrammatical logic. "Come, let's look at something
+more cheerful now."
+
+And without waiting for anyone else's assent, she turned towards the
+more lively portion of the grounds, closely followed by a ruddy-faced,
+somewhat sheepish-looking youth, who very obviously was her attendant
+swain.
+
+It was getting on for three o-clock now, and the quality were beginning
+to arrive. Lord Anthony Dewhurst was already there, chucking every
+pretty girl under the chin, to the annoyance of her beau. Ladies were
+arriving all the time, and the humbler feminine hearts were constantly
+set a-flutter at sight of rich brocaded gowns, and the new Charlottes,
+all crinkled velvet and soft marabout, which were so becoming to the
+pretty faces beneath.
+
+There was incessant and loud talking and chattering, with here and there
+the shriller tones of a French voice being distinctly noticeable in the
+din. There were a good many French ladies and gentlemen present, easily
+recognisable, even in the distance, for their clothes were of more sober
+hue and of lesser richness than those of their English compeers.
+
+But they were great lords and ladies, nevertheless, Dukes and Duchesses
+and Countesses, come to England for fear of being murdered by those
+devils in their own country. Richmond was full of them just now, as they
+were made right welcome both at the Palace and at the magnificent home
+of Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney.
+
+Ah! here comes Sir Andrew Ffoulkes with his lady! so pretty and
+dainty does she look, like a little china doll, in her new-fashioned
+short-waisted gown: her brown hair in soft waves above her smooth
+forehead, her great, hazel eyes fixed in unaffected admiration on the
+gallant husband by her side.
+
+"No wonder she dotes on him!" sighed pretty Mistress Polly after she had
+bobbed her curtsy to my lady. "The brave deeds he did for love of her!
+Rescued her from those murderers over in France and brought her to
+England safe and sound, having fought no end of them single-handed, so
+I've beard it said. Have you not, Master Thomas Jezzard?"
+
+And she looked defiantly at her meek-looking cavalier.
+
+"Bah!" replied Master Thomas with quite unusual vehemence in response to
+the disparaging look in her brown eyes, "'Tis not he who did it all,
+as you well know, Mistress Polly. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes is a gallant
+gentleman, you may take your Bible oath on that, but he that fights
+the murdering frogeaters single-handed is he whom they call The Scarlet
+Pimpernel: the bravest gentleman in all the world."
+
+Then, as at mention of the national hero, he thought that he detected in
+Mistress Polly's eyes an enthusiasm which he could not very well ascribe
+to his own individuality, he added with some pique:
+
+"But they do say that this same Scarlet Pimpernel is mightily
+ill-favoured, and that's why no one ever sees him. They say he is fit to
+scare the crows away and that no Frenchy can look twice at his face, for
+it's so ugly, and so they let him get out of the country, rather than
+look at him again."
+
+"Then they do say a mighty lot of nonsense," retorted Mistress Polly,
+with a shrug of her pretty shoulders, "and if that be so, then why don't
+you go over to France and join hands with the Scarlet Pimpernel? I'll
+warrant no Frenchman'll want to look twice at your face."
+
+A chorus of laughter greeted this sally, for the two young people had
+in the meanwhile been joined by several of their friends, and now formed
+part of a merry group near the band, some sitting, others standing, but
+all bent on seeing as much as there was to see in Richmond Gala this
+day. There was Johnny Cullen, the grocer's apprentice from Twickenham,
+and Ursula Quekett, the baker's daughter, and several "young 'uns" from
+the neighbourhood, as well as some older folk.
+
+And all of them enjoyed a joke when they heard one and thought Mistress
+Polly's retort mightily smart. But then Mistress Polly was possessed of
+two hundred pounds, all her own, left to her by her grandmother, and
+on the strength of this extensive fortune had acquired a reputation for
+beauty and wit not easily accorded to a wench that had been penniless.
+
+But Mistress Polly was also very kind-hearted. She loved to tease Master
+Jezzard, who was an indefatigable hanger-on at her pretty skirts, and
+whose easy conquest had rendered her somewhat contemptuous, but at the
+look of perplexed annoyance and bewildered distress in the lad's face,
+her better nature soon got the upper hand. She realized that her remark
+had been unwarrantably spiteful, and wishing to make atonement, she
+said with a touch of coquetry which quickly spread balm over the honest
+yokel's injured vanity:
+
+"La! Master Jezzard, you do seem to make a body say some queer things.
+But there! you must own 'tis mighty funny about that Scarlet Pimpernel!"
+she added, appealing to the company in general, just as if Master
+Jezzard had been disputing the fact. "Why won't he let anyone see who he
+is? And those who know him won't tell. Now I have it for a fact from
+my lady's own maid Lucy, that the young lady as is stopping at Lady
+Blakeney's house has actually spoken to the man. She came over from
+France, come a fortnight to-morrow; she and the gentleman they call
+Mossoo Deroulede. They both saw the Scarlet Pimpernel and spoke to him.
+He brought them over from France. Then why won't they say?"
+
+"Say what?" commented Johnny Cullen, the apprentice.
+
+"Who this mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel is."
+
+"Perhaps he isn't," said old Clutterbuck, who was clerk of the vestry at
+the church of St. John's the Evangelist.
+
+"Yes!" he added sententiously, for he was fond of his own sayings and
+usually liked to repeat them before he had quite done with them, "that's
+it, you may be sure. Perhaps he isn't."
+
+"What do you mean, Master Clutterbuck?" asked Ursula Quekett, for she
+knew the old man liked to explain his wise saws, and as she wanted to
+marry his son, she indulged him whenever she could. "What do you mean?
+He isn't what?"
+
+"He isn't. That's all," explained Clutterbuck with vague solemnity.
+
+Then seeing that he had gained the attention of the little party round
+him, he condescended to come to more logical phraseology.
+
+"I mean, that perhaps we must not ask, 'who IS this mysterious Scarlet
+Pimpernel?' but 'who WAS that poor and unfortunate gentleman?'"
+
+"Then you think..." suggested Mistress Polly, who felt unaccountably
+low-spirited at this oratorical pronouncement.
+
+"I have it for a fact," said Mr. Clutterbuck solemnly, "that he whom
+they call the Scarlet Pimpernel no longer exists now: that he was
+collared by the Frenchies, as far back as last fall, and in the language
+of the poets, has never been heard of no more."
+
+Mr. Clutterbuck was very fond of quoting from the works of certain
+writers whose names he never mentioned, but who went by the poetical
+generality of "the poets." Whenever he made use of phrases which he was
+supposed to derive from these great and unnamed authors, he solemnly
+and mechanically raised his hat, as a tribute of respect to these giant
+minds.
+
+"You think that The Scarlet Pimpernel is dead, Mr. Clutterbuck? That
+those horrible Frenchies murdered him? Surely you don't mean that?"
+sighed Mistress Polly ruefully.
+
+Mr. Clutterbuck put his hand up to his hat, preparatory no doubt to
+making another appeal to the mysterious poets, but was interrupted in
+the very act of uttering great thoughts by a loud and prolonged laugh
+which came echoing from a distant corner of the grounds.
+
+"Lud! but I'd know that laugh anywhere," said Mistress Quekett, whilst
+all eyes were turned in the direction whence the merry noise had come.
+
+Half a head taller than any of his friends around him, his lazy blue
+eyes scanning from beneath their drooping lids the motley throng around
+him, stood Sir Percy Blakeney, the centre of a gaily-dressed little
+group which seemingly had just crossed the toll-gate.
+
+"A fine specimen of a man, for sure," remarked Johnnie Cullen, the
+apprentice.
+
+"Aye! you may take your Bible oath on that!" sighed Mistress Polly, who
+was inclined to be sentimental.
+
+"Speakin' as the poets," pronounced Mr. Clutterbuck sententiously,
+"inches don't make a man."
+
+"Nor fine clothes neither," added Master Jezzard, who did not approve of
+Mistress Polly's sentimental sigh.
+
+"There's my lady!" gasped Miss Barbara suddenly, clutching Master
+Clutterbuck's arm vigorously. "Lud! but she is beautiful to-day!"
+
+Beautiful indeed, and radiant with youth and happiness, Marguerite
+Blakeney had just gone through the gates and was walking along the sward
+towards the band stand. She was dressed in clinging robes of shimmery
+green texture, the new-fashioned high-waisted effect suiting her
+graceful figure to perfection. The large Charlotte, made of velvet to
+match the gown, cast a deep shadow over the upper part of her face, and
+gave a peculiar softness to the outline of her forehead and cheeks.
+
+Long lace mittens covered her arms and hands and a scarf of diaphanous
+material edged with dull gold hung loosely around her shoulders.
+
+Yes! she was beautiful! No captious chronicler has ever denied that! and
+no one who knew her before, and who saw her again on this late summer's
+afternoon, could fail to mark the additional charm of her magnetic
+personality. There was a tenderness in her face as she turned her head
+to and fro, a joy of living in her eyes that was quite irresistibly
+fascinating.
+
+Just now she was talking animatedly with the young girl who was walking
+beside her, and laughing merrily the while:
+
+"Nay! we'll find your Paul, never fear! Lud! child, have you forgotten
+he is in England now, and that there's no fear of his being kidnapped
+here on the green in broad daylight."
+
+The young girl gave a slight shudder and her child-like face became a
+shade paler than before. Marguerite took her hand and gave it a kindly
+pressure. Juliette Marny, but lately come to England, saved from under
+the very knife of the guillotine, by a timely and daring rescue, could
+scarcely believe as yet that she and the man she loved were really out
+of danger.
+
+"There is Monsieur Deroulede," said Marguerite after a slight pause,
+giving the young girl time to recover herself and pointing to a group of
+men close by. "He is among friends, as you see."
+
+They made such a pretty picture, these two women, as they stood together
+for a moment on the green with the brilliant September sun throwing
+golden reflections and luminous shadows on their slender forms.
+Marguerite, tall and queen-like in her rich gown, and costly jewels,
+wearing with glorious pride the invisible crown of happy wifehood:
+Juliette, slim and girlish, dressed all in white, with a soft, straw
+hat on her fair curls, and bearing on an otherwise young and child-like
+face, the hard imprint of the terrible sufferings she had undergone, of
+the deathly moral battle her tender soul had had to fight.
+
+Soon a group of friends joined them. Paul Deroulede among these, also
+Sir Andrew and Lady Ffoulkes, and strolling slowly towards them, his
+hands buried in the pockets of his fine cloth breeches, his broad
+shoulders set to advantage in a coat of immaculate cut, priceless lace
+ruffles at neck and wrist, came the inimitable Sir Percy.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter V: Sir Percy and His Lady
+
+
+
+To all appearances he had not changed since those early days of
+matrimony, when his young wife dazzled London society by her wit and by
+her beauty, and he was one of the many satellites that helped to bring
+into bold relief the brilliance of her presence, of her sallies and of
+her smiles.
+
+His friends alone, mayhap--and of these only an intimate few--had
+understood that beneath that self-same lazy manner, those shy and
+awkward ways, that half-inane, half-cynical laugh, there now lurked an
+undercurrent of tender and passionate happiness.
+
+That Lady Blakeney was in love with her own husband, nobody could fail
+to see, and in the more frivolous cliques of fashionable London this
+extraordinary phenomenon had oft been eagerly discussed.
+
+"A monstrous thing, of a truth, for a woman of fashion to adore her own
+husband!" was the universal pronouncement of the gaily-decked little
+world that centred around Carlton House and Ranelagh.
+
+Not that Sir Percy Blakeney was unpopular with the fair sex. Far be it
+from the veracious chronicler's mind even to suggest such a thing. The
+ladies would have voted any gathering dull if Sir Percy's witty sallies
+did not ring from end to end of the dancing hall, if his new satin coat
+and 'broidered waistcoat did not call for comment or admiration.
+
+But that was the frivolous set, to which Lady Blakeney had never
+belonged.
+
+It was well known that she had always viewed her good-natured husband
+as the most willing and most natural butt for her caustic wit; she still
+was fond of aiming a shaft or two at him, and he was still equally ready
+to let the shaft glance harmlessly against the flawless shield of his
+own imperturbable good humour, but now, contrary to all precedent, to
+all usages and customs of London society, Marguerite seldom was seen at
+routs or at the opera without her husband; she accompanied him to all
+the races, and even one night--oh horror!--had danced the gavotte with
+him.
+
+Society shuddered and wondered! tried to put Lady Blakeney's sudden
+infatuation down to foreign eccentricity, and finally consoled itself
+with the thought that after all this nonsense could not last, and that
+she was too clever a woman and he too perfect a gentleman to keep up
+this abnormal state of things for any length of time.
+
+In the meanwhile, the ladies averred that this matrimonial love was a
+very one-sided affair. No one could assert that Sir Percy was anything
+but politely indifferent to his wife's obvious attentions. His lazy eyes
+never once lighted up when she entered a ball-room, and there were those
+who knew for a fact that her ladyship spent many lonely days in her
+beautiful home at Richmond whilst her lord and master absented himself
+with persistent if unchivalrous regularity.
+
+His presence at the Gala had been a surprise to everyone, for all
+thought him still away, fishing in Scotland or shooting in Yorkshire,
+anywhere save close to the apron strings of his doting wife. He himself
+seemed conscious of the fact that he had not been expected at this
+end-of-summer fete, for as he strolled forward to meet his wife and
+Juliette Marny, and acknowledge with a bow here and a nod there the many
+greetings from subordinates and friends, there was quite an apologetic
+air about his good-looking face, and an obvious shyness in his smile.
+
+But Marguerite gave a happy little laugh when she saw him coming towards
+her.
+
+"Oh, Sir Percy!" she said gaily, "and pray have you seen the show? I vow
+'tis the maddest, merriest throng I've seen for many a day. Nay! but for
+the sighs and shudders of my poor little Juliette, I should be enjoying
+one of the liveliest days of my life."
+
+She patted Juliette's arm affectionately.
+
+"Do not shame me before Sir Percy," murmured the young girl, casting shy
+glances at the elegant cavalier before her, vainly trying to find in the
+indolent, foppish personality of this society butterfly, some trace of
+the daring man of action, the bold adventurer who had snatched her and
+her lover from out the very tumbril that bore them both to death.
+
+"I know I ought to be gay," she continued with an attempt at a smile, "I
+ought to forget everything, save what I owe to..."
+
+Sir Percy's laugh broke in on her half-finished sentence.
+
+"Lud! and to think of all that I ought not to forget!" he said loudly.
+"Tony here has been clamouring for iced punch this last half-hour, and I
+promised to find a booth wherein the noble liquid is properly dispensed.
+Within half an hour from now His Royal Highness will be here. I assure
+you, Mlle. Juliette, that from that time onwards I have to endure the
+qualms of the damned, for the heir to Great Britain's throne always
+contrives to be thirsty when I am satiated, which is Tantalus' torture
+magnified a thousandfold, or to be satiated when my parched palate most
+requires solace; in either case I am a most pitiable man."
+
+"In either case you contrive to talk a deal of nonsense, Sir Percy,"
+said Marguerite gaily.
+
+"What else would your ladyship have me do this lazy, hot afternoon?"
+
+"Come and view the booths with me," she said. "I am dying for a sight of
+the fat woman and the lean man, the pig-faced child, the dwarfs and
+the giants. There! Monsieur Deroulede," she added, turning to the young
+Frenchman who was standing close beside her, "take Mlle. Juliette to
+hear the clavecin players. I vow she is tired of my company."
+
+The gaily-dressed group was breaking up. Juliette and Paul Deroulede
+were only too ready to stroll off arm-in-arm together, and Sir Andrew
+Ffoulkes was ever in attendance on his young wife.
+
+For one moment Marguerite caught her husband's eye. No one was within
+earshot.
+
+"Percy," she said.
+
+"Yes, m'dear."
+
+"When did you return?"
+
+"Early this morning."
+
+"You crossed over from Calais?"
+
+"From Boulogne."
+
+"Why did you not let me know sooner?"
+
+"I could not, dear. I arrived at my lodgings in town, looking a
+disgusting object.... I could not appear before you until I had washed
+some of the French mud from off my person. Then His Royal Highness
+demanded my presence. He wanted news of the Duchesse de Verneuil, whom I
+had the honour of escorting over from France. By the time I had told him
+all that he wished to hear, there was no chance of finding you at home,
+and I thought I should see you here."
+
+Marguerite said nothing for a moment, but her foot impatiently tapped
+the ground, and her fingers were fidgeting with the gold fringe of her
+scarf. The look of joy, of exquisite happiness, seemed to have suddenly
+vanished from her face; there was a deep furrow between her brows.
+
+She sighed a short, sharp sigh, and cast a rapid upward glance at her
+husband.
+
+He was looking down at her, smiling good-naturedly, a trifle
+sarcastically perhaps, and the frown on her face deepened.
+
+"Percy," she said abruptly.
+
+"Yes, m'dear."
+
+"These anxieties are terrible to bear. You have been twice over to
+France within the last month, dealing with your life as lightly as if
+it did not now belong to me. When will you give up these mad adventures,
+and leave others to fight their own battles and to save their own lives
+as best they may?"
+
+She had spoken with increased vehemence, although her voice was scarce
+raised above a whisper. Even in her sudden, passionate anger she was on
+her guard not to betray his secret. He did not reply immediately, but
+seemed to be studying the beautiful face on which heartbroken anxiety
+was now distinctly imprinted.
+
+Then he turned and looked at the solitary booth in the distance, across
+the frontal of which a large placard had been recently affixed, bearing
+the words: "Come and see the true representation of the guillotine!"
+
+In front of the booth a man dressed in ragged breeches, with Phrygian
+cap on his head, adorned with a tri-colour cockade, was vigorously
+beating a drum, shouting volubly the while:
+
+"Come in and see, come in and see! the only realistic presentation of
+the original guillotine. Hundreds perish in Paris every day! Come and
+see! Come and see! the perfectly vivid performance of what goes on
+hourly in Paris at the present moment."
+
+Marguerite had followed the direction of Sir Percy's eyes. She too was
+looking at the booth, she heard the man's monotonous, raucous cries. She
+gave a slight shudder and once more looked imploringly at her husband.
+His face--though outwardly as lazy and calm as before--had a strange set
+look about the mouth and firm jaw, and his slender hand, the hand of a
+dandy accustomed to handle cards and dice and to play lightly with the
+foils, was clutched tightly beneath the folds of the priceless Mechlin
+frills.
+
+It was but a momentary stiffening of the whole powerful frame, an
+instant's flash of the ruling passion hidden within that very secretive
+soul. Then he once more turned towards her, the rigid lines of his face
+relaxed, he broke into a pleasant laugh, and with the most elaborate and
+most courtly bow he took her hand in his and raising her fingers to his
+lips, he gave the answer to her questions:
+
+"When your ladyship has ceased to be the most admired woman in Europe,
+namely, when I am in my grave."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter VI: For the Poor of Paris
+
+
+
+There was no time to say more then. For the laughing, chatting groups
+of friends had once more closed up round Marguerite and her husband,
+and she, ever on the alert, gave neither look nor sign that any serious
+conversation had taken place between Sir Percy and herself.
+
+Whatever she might feel or dread with regard to the foolhardy adventures
+in which he still persistently embarked, no member of the League
+ever guarded the secret of his chief more loyally than did Marguerite
+Blakeney.
+
+Though her heart overflowed with a passionate pride in her husband, she
+was clever enough to conceal every emotion save that which Nature had
+insisted on imprinting in her face, her present radiant happiness
+and her irresistible love. And thus before the world she kept up that
+bantering way with him, which had characterized her earlier matrimonial
+life, that good-natured, easy contempt which he had so readily accepted
+in those days, and which their entourage would have missed and would
+have enquired after, if she had changed her manner towards him too
+suddenly.
+
+In her heart she knew full well that within Percy Blakeney's soul
+she had a great and powerful rival: his wild, mad, passionate love of
+adventure. For it he would sacrifice everything, even his life; she
+dared not ask herself if he would sacrifice his love.
+
+Twice in a few weeks he had been over to France: every time he went she
+could not know if she would ever see him again. She could not imagine
+how the French Committee of Public Safety could so clumsily allow the
+hated Scarlet Pimpernel to slip through its fingers. But she never
+attempted either to warn him or to beg him not to go. When he brought
+Paul Deroulede and Juliette Marny over from France, her heart went
+out to the two young people in sheer gladness and pride because of his
+precious life, which he had risked for them.
+
+She loved Juliette for the dangers Percy had passed, for the anxieties
+she herself had endured; only to-day, in the midst of this beautiful
+sunshine, this joy of the earth, of summer and of the sky, she had
+suddenly felt a mad, overpowering anxiety, a deadly hatred of the
+wild adventurous life, which took him so often away from her side. His
+pleasant, bantering reply precluded her following up the subject, whilst
+the merry chatter of people round her warned her to keep her words and
+looks under control.
+
+But she seemed now to feel the want of being alone, and, somehow, that
+distant booth with its flaring placard, and the crier in the Phrygian
+cap, exercised a weird fascination over her.
+
+Instinctively she bent her steps thither, and equally instinctively the
+idle throng of her friends followed her. Sir Percy alone had halted in
+order to converse with Lord Hastings, who had just arrived.
+
+"Surely, Lady Blakeney, you have no though of patronising that
+gruesome spectacle?" said Lord Anthony Dewhurst, as Marguerite almost
+mechanically had paused within a few yards of the solitary booth.
+
+"I don't know," she said, with enforced gaiety, "the place seems
+to attract me. And I need not look at the spectacle," she added
+significantly, as she pointed to a roughly-scribbled notice at the
+entrance of the tent: "In aid of the starving poor of Paris."
+
+"There's a good-looking woman who sings, and a hideous mechanical toy
+that moves," said one of the young men in the crowd. "It is very dark
+and close inside the tent. I was lured in there for my sins, and was in
+a mighty hurry to come out again."
+
+"Then it must be my sins that are helping to lure me too at the present
+moment," said Marguerite lightly. "I pray you all to let me go in there.
+I want to hear the good-looking woman sing, even if I do not see the
+hideous toy on the move."
+
+"May I escort you then, Lady Blakeney?" said Lord Tony.
+
+"Nay! I would rather go in alone," she replied a trifle impatiently. "I
+beg of you not to heed my whim, and to await my return, there, where the
+music is at its merriest."
+
+It had been bad manners to insist. Marguerite, with a little
+comprehensive nod to all her friends, left the young cavaliers still
+protesting and quickly passed beneath the roughly constructed doorway
+that gave access into the booth.
+
+A man, dressed in theatrical rags and wearing the characteristic scarlet
+cap, stood immediately within the entrance, and ostentatiously rattled a
+money box at regular intervals.
+
+"For the starving poor of Paris," he drawled out in nasal monotonous
+tones the moment he caught sight of Marguerite and of her rich gown. She
+dropped some gold into the box and then passed on.
+
+The interior of the booth was dark and lonely-looking after the glare
+of the hot September sun and the noisy crowd that thronged the sward
+outside. Evidently a performance had just taken place on the elevated
+platform beyond, for a few yokels seemed to be lingering in a desultory
+manner as if preparatory to going out.
+
+A few disjointed comments reached Marguerite's ears as she approached,
+and the small groups parted to allow her to pass. One or two women
+gaped in astonishment at her beautiful dress, whilst others bobbed a
+respectful curtsey.
+
+The mechanical toy arrested her attention immediately. She did not find
+it as gruesome as she expected, only singularly grotesque, with all
+those wooden little figures in their quaint, arrested action.
+
+She drew nearer to have a better look, and the yokels who had lingered
+behind, paused, wondering if she would make any remark.
+
+"Her ladyship was born in France," murmured one of the men, close to
+her, "she would know if the thing really looks like that."
+
+"She do seem interested," quoth another in a whisper.
+
+"Lud love us all!" said a buxom wench, who was clinging to the arm of a
+nervous-looking youth, "I believe they're coming for more money."
+
+On the elevated platform at the further end of the tent, a slim
+figure had just made its appearance, that of a young woman dressed in
+peculiarly sombre colours, and with a black lace hood thrown lightly
+over her head.
+
+Marguerite thought that the face seemed familiar to her, and she also
+noticed that the woman carried a large embroidered reticule in her
+bemittened hand.
+
+There was a general exodus the moment she appeared. The Richmond yokels
+did not like the look of that reticule. They felt that sufficient
+demand had already been made upon their scant purses, considering the
+meagerness of the entertainment, and they dreaded being lured to further
+extravagance.
+
+When Marguerite turned away from the mechanical toy, the last of the
+little crowd had disappeared, and she was alone in the booth with the
+woman in the dark kirtle and black lace hood.
+
+"For the poor of Paris, Madame," said the latter mechanically, holding
+out her reticule.
+
+Marguerite was looking at her intently. The face certainly seemed
+familiar, recalling to her mind the far-off days in Paris, before
+she married. Some young actress no doubt driven out of France by that
+terrible turmoil which had caused so much sorrow and so much suffering.
+The face was pretty, the figure slim and elegant, and the look of
+obvious sadness in the dark, almond-shaped eyes was calculated to
+inspire sympathy and pity.
+
+Yet, strangely enough, Lady Blakeney felt repelled and chilled by this
+sombrely-dressed young person: an instinct, which she could not have
+explained and which she felt had no justification, warned her that
+somehow or other, the sadness was not quite genuine, the appeal for the
+poor not quite heartfelt.
+
+Nevertheless, she took out her purse, and dropping some few sovereigns
+into the capacious reticule, she said very kindly:
+
+"I hope that you are satisfied with your day's work, Madame; I fear
+me our British country folk hold the strings of their purses somewhat
+tightly these times."
+
+The woman sighed and shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Oh, Madame!" she said with a tone of great dejection, "one does what
+one can for one's starving countrymen, but it is very hard to elicit
+sympathy over here for them, poor dears!"
+
+"You are a Frenchwoman, of course," rejoined Marguerite, who had noted
+that though the woman spoke English with a very pronounced foreign
+accent, she had nevertheless expressed herself with wonderful fluency
+and correctness.
+
+"Just like Lady Blakeney herself," replied the other.
+
+"You know who I am?
+
+"Who could come to Richmond and not know Lady Blakeney by sight."
+
+"But what made you come to Richmond on this philanthropic errand of
+yours?"
+
+"I go where I think there is a chance of earning a little money for
+the cause which I have at heart," replied the Frenchwoman with the same
+gentle simplicity, the same tone of mournful dejection.
+
+What she said was undoubtedly noble and selfless. Lady Blakeney felt in
+her heart that her keenest sympathy should have gone out to this
+young woman--pretty, dainty, hardly more than a girl--who seemed to be
+devoting her young life in a purely philanthropic and unselfish cause.
+And yet in spite of herself, Marguerite seemed unable to shake off that
+curious sense of mistrust which had assailed her from the first, nor
+that feeling of unreality and staginess with which the Frenchwoman's
+attitude had originally struck her.
+
+Yet she tried to be kind and to be cordial, tried to hide that coldness
+in her manner which she felt was unjustified.
+
+"It is all very praiseworthy on your part, Madame," she said somewhat
+lamely. "Madame...?" she added interrogatively.
+
+"My name is Candeille--Desiree Candeille," replied the Frenchwoman.
+
+"Candeille?" exclaimed Marguerite with sudden alacrity, "Candeille...
+surely..."
+
+"Yes... of the Varietes."
+
+"Ah! then I know why your face from the first seemed familiar to me,"
+said Marguerite, this time with unaffected cordiality. "I must have
+applauded you many a time in the olden days. I am an ex-colleague, you
+know. My name was St. Just before I married, and I was of the Maison
+Moliere."
+
+"I knew that," said Desiree Candeille, "and half hoped that you would
+remember me."
+
+"Nay! who could forget Demoiselle Candeille, the most popular star in
+the theatrical firmament?"
+
+"Oh! that was so long ago."
+
+"Only four years."
+
+"A fallen star is soon lost out of sight."
+
+"Why fallen?"
+
+"It was a choice for me between exile from France and the guillotine,"
+rejoined Candeille simply.
+
+"Surely not?" queried Marguerite with a touch of genuine sympathy.
+With characteristic impulsiveness, she had now cast aside her former
+misgivings: she had conquered her mistrust, at any rate had relegated
+it to the background of her mind. This woman was a colleague: she had
+suffered and was in distress; she had every claim, therefore, on a
+compatriot's help and friendship. She stretched out her hand and took
+Desiree Candeille's in her own; she forced herself to feel nothing but
+admiration for this young woman, whose whole attitude spoke of sorrows
+nobly borne, of misfortunes proudly endured.
+
+"I don't know why I should sadden you with my story," rejoined Desiree
+Candeille after a slight pause, during which she seemed to be waging
+war against her own emotion. "It is not a very interesting one. Hundreds
+have suffered as I did. I had enemies in Paris. God knows how that
+happened. I had never harmed anyone, but someone must have hated me and
+must have wished me ill. Evil is so easily wrought in France these days.
+A denunciation--a perquisition--an accusation--then the flight from
+Paris... the forged passports... the disguise... the bribe... the
+hardships... the squalid hiding places.... Oh! I have gone through
+it all... tasted every kind of humiliation... endured every kind of
+insult.... Remember! that I was not a noble aristocrat... a Duchess
+or an impoverished Countess..." she added with marked bitterness, "or
+perhaps the English cavaliers whom the popular voice has called the
+League of the Scarlet Pimpernel would have taken some interest in me. I
+was only a poor actress and had to find my way out of France alone, or
+else perish on the guillotine."
+
+"I am so sorry!" said Marguerite simply.
+
+"Tell me how you got on, once you were in England," she continued after
+a while, seeing that Desiree Candeille seemed absorbed in thought.
+
+"I had a few engagements at first," replied the Frenchwoman. "I played
+at Sadler's Wells and with Mrs. Jordan at Covent Garden, but the Aliens'
+Bill put an end to my chances of livelihood. No manager cared to give me
+a part, and so..."
+
+"And so?"
+
+"Oh! I had a few jewels and I sold them.... A little money and I live on
+that.... But when I played at Covent Garden I contrived to send part of
+my salary over to some of the poorer clubs of Paris. My heart aches for
+those that are starving.... Poor wretches, they are misguided and misled
+by self-seeking demagogues.... It hurts me to feel that I can do nothing
+more to help them... and eases my self-respect if, by singing at public
+fairs, I can still send a few francs to those who are poorer than
+myself."
+
+She had spoken with ever-increasing passion and vehemence. Marguerite,
+with eyes fixed into vacancy, seeing neither the speaker nor her
+surroundings, seeing only visions of those same poor wreckages of
+humanity, who had been goaded into thirst for blood, when their shrunken
+bodies should have been clamouring for healthy food,--Marguerite
+thus absorbed, had totally forgotten her earlier prejudices and now
+completely failed to note all that was unreal, stagy, theatrical, in the
+oratorical declamations of the ex-actress from the Varietes.
+
+Pre-eminently true and loyal herself in spite of the many deceptions and
+treacheries which she had witnessed in her life, she never looked for
+falsehood or for cant in others. Even now she only saw before her a
+woman who had been wrongfully persecuted, who had suffered and had
+forgiven those who had caused her to suffer. She bitterly accused
+herself for her original mistrust of this noble-hearted, unselfish
+woman, who was content to tramp around in an alien country, bartering
+her talents for a few coins, in order that some of those, who were the
+originators of her sorrows, might have bread to eat and a bed in which
+to sleep.
+
+"Mademoiselle," she said warmly, "truly you shame me, who am also
+French-born, with the many sacrifices you so nobly make for those who
+should have first claim on my own sympathy. Believe me, if I have
+not done as much as duty demanded of me in the cause of my starving
+compatriots, it has not been for lack of good-will. Is there any way
+now," she added eagerly, "in which I can help you? Putting aside the
+question of money, wherein I pray you to command my assistance, what can
+I do to be of useful service to you?"
+
+"You are very kind, Lady Blakeney..." said the other hesitatingly.
+
+"Well? What is it? I see there is something in your mind..."
+
+"It is perhaps difficult to express... but people say I have a good
+voice... I sing some French ditties... they are a novelty in England, I
+think.... If I could sing them in fashionable salons... I might
+perhaps..."
+
+"Nay! you shall sing in fashionable salons," exclaimed Marguerite
+eagerly, "you shall become the fashion, and I'll swear the Prince of
+Wales himself shall bid you sing at Carlton House... and you shall name
+your own fee, Mademoiselle... and London society shall vie with the
+elite of Bath, as to which shall lure you to its most frequented
+routs.... There! there! you shall make a fortune for the Paris poor...
+and to prove to you that I mean every word I say, you shall begin your
+triumphant career in my own salon to-morrow night. His Royal Highness
+will be present. You shall sing your most engaging songs... and for
+your fee you must accept a hundred guineas, which you shall send to
+the poorest workman's club in Paris in the name of Sir Percy and Lady
+Blakeney."
+
+"I thank your ladyship, but..."
+
+"You'll not refuse?"
+
+"I'll accept gladly... but... you will understand... I am not very old,"
+said Candeille quaintly, "I... I am only an actress... but if a young
+actress is unprotected... then..."
+
+"I understand," replied Marguerite gently, "that you are far too pretty
+to frequent the world all alone, and that you have a mother, a sister
+or a friend... which?... whom you would wish to escort you to-morrow. Is
+that it?"
+
+"Nay," rejoined the actress, with marked bitterness, "I have neither
+mother, nor sister, but our Revolutionary Government, with tardy
+compassion for those it has so relentlessly driven out of France,
+has deputed a representative of theirs in England to look after the
+interests of French subjects over here!"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"They have realised over in Paris that my life here has been devoted to
+the welfare of the poor people of France. The representative whom the
+government has sent to England is specially interested in me and in
+my work. He is a stand-by for me in case of trouble... in case of
+insults... A woman alone is oft subject to those, even at the hands of
+so-called gentlemen... and the official representative of my own country
+becomes in such cases my most natural protector."
+
+"I understand."
+
+"You will receive him?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Then may I present him to your ladyship?"
+
+"Whenever you like."
+
+"Now, and it please you."
+
+"Now?"
+
+"Yes. Here he comes, at your ladyship's service."
+
+Desiree Candeille's almond-shaped eyes were fixed upon a distant part of
+the tent, behind Lady Blakeney in the direction of the main entrance
+to the booth. There was a slight pause after she had spoken and
+then Marguerite slowly turned in order to see who this official
+representative of France was, whom at the young actress' request she had
+just agreed to receive in her house. In the doorway of the tent, framed
+by its gaudy draperies, and with the streaming sunshine as a brilliant
+background behind him, stood the sable-clad figure of Chauvelin.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter VII: Premonition
+
+
+
+Marguerite neither moved nor spoke. She felt two pairs of eyes fixed
+upon her, and with all the strength of will at her command she forced
+the very blood in her veins not to quit her cheeks, forced her eyelids
+not to betray by a single quiver the icy pang of a deadly premonition
+which at sight of Chauvelin seemed to have chilled her entire soul.
+
+There he stood before her, dressed in his usual somber garments, a look
+almost of humility in those keen grey eyes of his, which a year ago on
+the cliffs of Calais had peered down at her with such relentless hate.
+
+Strange that at this moment she should have felt an instinct of fear.
+What cause had she to throw more than a pitiful glance at the man who
+had tried so cruelly to wrong her, and who had so signally failed?
+
+Having bowed very low and very respectfully, Chauvelin advanced towards
+her, with all the airs of a disgraced courtier craving audience from his
+queen.
+
+As he approached she instinctively drew back.
+
+"Would you prefer not to speak to me, Lady Blakeney?" he said humbly.
+
+She could scarcely believe her ears, or trust her eyes. It seemed
+impossible that a man could have so changed in a few months. He even
+looked shorter than last year, more shrunken within himself. His hair,
+which he wore free from powder, was perceptibly tinged with grey.
+
+"Shall I withdraw?" he added after a pause, seeing that Marguerite made
+no movement to return his salutation.
+
+"It would be best, perhaps," she replied coldly. "You and I, Monsieur
+Chauvelin, have so little to say to one another."
+
+"Very little indeed," he rejoined quietly; "the triumphant and happy
+have ever very little to say to the humiliated and the defeated. But
+I had hoped that Lady Blakeney in the midst of her victory would have
+spared one thought of pity and one of pardon."
+
+"I did not know that you had need of either from me, Monsieur."
+
+"Pity perhaps not, but forgiveness certainly."
+
+"You have that, if you so desire it."
+
+"Since I failed, you might try to forget."
+
+"That is beyond my power. But believe me, I have ceased to think of the
+infinite wrong which you tried to do to me."
+
+"But I failed," he insisted, "and I meant no harm to YOU."
+
+"To those I care for, Monsieur Chauvelin."
+
+"I had to serve my country as best I could. I meant no harm to your
+brother. He is safe in England now. And the Scarlet Pimpernel was
+nothing to you."
+
+She tried to read his face, tried to discover in those inscrutable eyes
+of his, some hidden meaning to his words. Instinct had warned her of
+course that this man could be nothing but an enemy, always and at all
+times. But he seemed so broken, so abject now, that contempt for his
+dejected attitude, and for the defeat which had been inflicted on him,
+chased the last remnant of fear from her heart.
+
+"I did not even succeed in harming that enigmatical personage,"
+continued Chauvelin with the same self-abasement. "Sir Percy Blakeney,
+you remember, threw himself across my plans, quite innocently of course.
+I failed where you succeeded. Luck has deserted me. Our government
+offered me a humble post, away from France. I look after the interests
+of French subjects settled in England. My days of power are over. My
+failure is complete. I do not complain, for I failed in a combat of
+wits... but I failed... I failed... I failed... I am almost a fugitive
+and I am quite disgraced. That is my present history, Lady Blakeney," he
+concluded, taking once more a step towards her, "and you will understand
+that it would be a solace if you extended your hand to me just once
+more, and let me feel that although you would never willingly look upon
+my face again, you have enough womanly tenderness in you to force your
+heart to forgiveness and mayhap to pity."
+
+Marguerite hesitated. He held out his hand and her warm, impulsive
+nature prompted her to be kind. But instinct would not be gainsaid: a
+curious instinct to which she refused to respond. What had she to fear
+from this miserable and cringing little worm who had not even in him
+the pride of defeat? What harm could he do to her, or to those whom she
+loved? Her brother was in England! Her husband! Bah! not the enmity of
+the entire world could make her fear for him!
+
+Nay! That instinct, which caused her to draw away from Chauvelin, as
+she would from a venomous asp, was certainly not fear. It was hate! She
+hated this man! Hated him for all that she had suffered because of
+him; for that terrible night on the cliffs of Calais! The peril to
+her husband who had become so infinitely dear! The humiliations and
+self-reproaches which he had endured.
+
+Yes! it was hate! and hate was of all emotions the one she most
+despised.
+
+Hate? Does one hate a slimy but harmless toad or a stinging fly?
+It seemed ridiculous, contemptible and pitiable to think of hate in
+connection with the melancholy figure of this discomfited intriguer,
+this fallen leader of revolutionary France.
+
+He was holding out his hand to her. If she placed even the tips of
+her fingers upon it, she would be making the compact of mercy and
+forgiveness which he was asking of her. The woman Desiree Candeille
+roused within her the last lingering vestige of her slumbering wrath.
+False, theatrical and stagy--as Marguerite had originally suspected--she
+appeared to have been in league with Chauvelin to bring about this
+undesirable meeting.
+
+Lady Blakeney turned from one to another, trying to conceal her contempt
+beneath a mask of passionless indifference. Candeille was standing close
+by, looking obviously distressed and not a little puzzled. An instant's
+reflection was sufficient to convince Marguerite that the whilom actress
+of the Varietes Theatre was obviously ignorant of the events to
+which Chauvelin had been alluding: she was, therefore, of no serious
+consequence, a mere tool, mayhap, in the ex-ambassador's hands. At the
+present moment she looked like a silly child who does not understand the
+conversation of the "grown-ups."
+
+Marguerite had promised her help and protection, had invited her to her
+house, and offered her a munificent gift in aid of a deserving cause.
+She was too proud to go back now on that promise, to rescind the
+contract because of an unexplainable fear. With regard to Chauvelin,
+the matter stood differently: she had made him no direct offer of
+hospitality: she had agreed to receive in her house the official
+chaperone of an unprotected girl, but she was not called upon to show
+cordiality to her own and her husband's most deadly enemy.
+
+She was ready to dismiss him out of her life with a cursory word of
+pardon and a half-expressed promise of oblivion: on that understanding
+and that only she was ready to let her hand rest for the space of one
+second in his.
+
+She had looked upon her fallen enemy, seen his discomfiture and his
+humiliation! Very well! Now let him pass out of her life, all the
+more easily, since the last vision of him would be one of such utter
+abjection as would even be unworthy of hate.
+
+All these thoughts, feelings and struggles passed through her mind
+with great rapidity. Her hesitation had lasted less than five seconds:
+Chauvelin still wore the look of doubting entreaty with which he had
+first begged permission to take her hand in his. With an impulsive toss
+of the head, she had turned straight towards him, ready with the phrase
+with which she meant to dismiss him from her sight now and forever, when
+suddenly a well-known laugh broke in upon her ear, and a lazy, drawly
+voice said pleasantly:
+
+"La! I vow the air is fit to poison you! Your Royal Highness, I entreat,
+let us turn our backs upon these gates of Inferno, where lost souls
+would feel more at home than doth your humble servant."
+
+The next moment His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales had entered the
+tent, closely followed by Sir Percy Blakeney.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter VIII: The Invitation
+
+
+
+It was in truth a strange situation, this chance meeting between Percy
+Blakeney and ex-Ambassador Chauvelin.
+
+Marguerite looked up at her husband. She saw him shrug his broad
+shoulders as he first caught sight of Chauvelin, and glance down in his
+usual lazy, good-humoured manner at the shrunken figure of the silent
+Frenchman. The words she meant to say never crossed her lips; she was
+waiting to hear what the two men would say to one another.
+
+The instinct of the grande dame in her, the fashionable lady accustomed
+to the exigencies of society, just gave her sufficient presence of mind
+to make the requisite low curtsey before His Royal Highness. But the
+Prince, forgetting his accustomed gallantry, was also absorbed in the
+little scene before him. He, too, was looking from the sable-clad figure
+of Chauvelin to that of gorgeously arrayed Sir Percy. He, too, like
+Marguerite, was wondering what was passing behind the low, smooth
+forehead of that inimitable dandy, what behind the inscrutably
+good-humoured expression of those sleepy eyes.
+
+Of the five persons thus present in the dark and stuffy booth, certainly
+Sir Percy Blakeney seemed the least perturbed. He had paused just long
+enough to allow Chauvelin to become fully conscious of a feeling
+of supreme irritation and annoyance, then he strolled up to the
+ex-ambassador, with hand outstretched and the most engaging of smiles.
+
+"Ha!" he said, with his usual half-shy, half-pleasant-tempered smile,
+"my engaging friend from France! I hope, sir, that our demmed climate
+doth find you well and hearty to-day."
+
+The cheerful voice seemed to ease the tension. Marguerite sighed a sigh
+of relief. After all, what was more natural than that Percy with his
+amazing fund of pleasant irresponsibility should thus greet the man
+who had once vowed to bring him to the guillotine? Chauvelin, himself,
+accustomed by now to the audacious coolness of his enemy, was scarcely
+taken by surprise. He bowed low to His Highness, who, vastly amused at
+Blakeney's sally, was inclined to be gracious to everyone, even though
+the personality of Chauvelin as a well-known leader of the regicide
+government was inherently distasteful to him. But the Prince saw in
+the wizened little figure before him an obvious butt for his friend
+Blakeney's impertinent shafts, and although historians have been unable
+to assert positively whether or no George Prince of Wales knew aught of
+Sir Percy's dual life, yet there is no doubt that he was always ready
+to enjoy a situation which brought about the discomfiture of any of the
+Scarlet Pimpernel's avowed enemies.
+
+"I, too, have not met M. Chauvelin for many a long month," said His
+Royal Highness with an obvious show of irony. "And I mistake not, sir,
+you left my father's court somewhat abruptly last year."
+
+"Nay, your Royal Highness," said Percy gaily, "my friend Monsieur...
+er... Chaubertin and I had serious business to discuss, which could only
+be dealt with in France.... Am I not right, Monsieur?"
+
+"Quite right, Sir Percy," replied Chauvelin curtly.
+
+"We had to discuss abominable soup in Calais, had we not?" continued
+Blakeney in the same tone of easy banter, "and wine that I vowed
+was vinegar. Monsieur... er... Chaubertin... no, no, I beg pardon...
+Chauvelin... Monsieur Chauvelin and I quite agreed upon that point.
+The only matter on which we were not quite at one was the question of
+snuff."
+
+"Snuff?" laughed His Royal Highness, who seemed vastly amused.
+
+"Yes, your Royal Highness... snuff... Monsieur Chauvelin here had--if I
+may be allowed to say so--so vitiated a taste in snuff that he prefers
+it with an admixture of pepper... Is that not so, Monsieur... er...
+Chaubertin?"
+
+"Chauvelin, Sir Percy," remarked the ex-ambassador drily.
+
+He was determined not to lose his temper and looked urbane and pleasant,
+whilst his impudent enemy was enjoying a joke at his expense. Marguerite
+the while had not taken her eyes off the keen, shrewd face. Whilst the
+three men talked, she seemed suddenly to have lost her sense of the
+reality of things. The present situation appeared to her strangely
+familiar, like a dream which she had dreamt oft times before.
+
+Suddenly it became absolutely clear to her that the whole scene had been
+arranged and planned: the booth with its flaring placard, Demoiselle
+Candeille soliciting her patronage, her invitation to the young actress,
+Chauvelin's sudden appearance, all, all had been concocted and arranged,
+not here, not in England at all, but out there in Paris, in some dark
+gathering of blood-thirsty ruffians, who had invented a final trap for
+the destruction of the bold adventurer, who went by the name of the
+Scarlet Pimpernel.
+
+And she also was only a puppet, enacting a part which had been written
+for her: she had acted just as THEY had anticipated, had spoken the very
+words they had meant her to say: and when she looked at Percy, he seemed
+supremely ignorant of it all, unconscious of this trap of the existence
+of which everyone here present was aware, save indeed himself. She
+would have fought against this weird feeling of obsession, of being a
+mechanical toy would up to do certain things, but this she could not do;
+her will appeared paralysed, her tongue even refused her service.
+
+As in a dream she heard His Royal Highness ask for the name of the young
+actress who was soliciting alms for the poor of Paris.
+
+That also had been prearranged. His Royal Highness for the moment was
+also a puppet, made to dance, to speak and to act as Chauvelin and his
+colleagues over in France had decided that he should. Quite mechanically
+Marguerite introduced Demoiselle Candeille to the Prince's gracious
+notice.
+
+"If your Highness will permit," she said, "Mademoiselle Candeille will
+give us some of her charming old French songs at my rout to-morrow."
+
+"By all means! By all means!" said the Prince. "I used to know some
+in my childhood days. Charming and poetic.... I know.... I know.... We
+shall be delighted to hear Mademoiselle sing, eh, Blakeney?" he added
+good-humouredly, "and for your rout to-morrow will you not also invite
+M. Chauvelin?"
+
+"Nay! but that goes without saying, your Royal Highness," responded Sir
+Percy, with hospitable alacrity and a most approved bow directed at his
+arch-enemy. "We shall expect M. Chauvelin. He and I have not met for so
+long, and he shall be made right welcome at Blakeney Manor."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter IX: Demoiselle Candeille
+
+
+
+Her origin was of the humblest, for her mother--so it was said--had
+been kitchen-maid in the household of the Duc de Marny, but Desiree had
+received some kind of education, and though she began life as a dresser
+in one of the minor theatres of Paris, she became ultimately one of its
+most popular stars.
+
+She was small and dark, dainty in her manner and ways, and with a
+graceful little figure, peculiarly supple and sinuous. Her humble
+origin certainly did not betray itself in her hands and feet, which were
+exquisite in shape and lilliputian in size.
+
+Her hair was soft and glossy, always free from powder, and cunningly
+arranged so as to slightly overshadow the upper part of her face.
+
+The chin was small and round, the mouth extraordinarily red, the neck
+slender and long. But she was not pretty: so said all the women. Her
+skin was rather coarse in texture and darkish in colour, her eyes
+were narrow and slightly turned upwards at the corners; no! she was
+distinctly not pretty.
+
+Yet she pleased the men! Perhaps because she was so artlessly determined
+to please them. The women said that Demoiselle Candeille never left a
+man alone until she had succeeded in captivating his fancy if only for
+five minutes; an interval in a dance... the time to cross a muddy road.
+
+But for five minutes she was determined to hold any man's complete
+attention, and to exact his admiration. And she nearly always succeeded.
+
+Therefore the women hated her. The men were amused. It is extremely
+pleasant to have one's admiration compelled, one's attention so
+determinedly sought after.
+
+And Candeille could be extremely amusing, and as Madelon in Moliere's
+"Les Precieuses" was quite inimitable.
+
+This, however, was in the olden days, just before Paris went quite mad,
+before the Reign of Terror had set in, and ci-devant Louis the King had
+been executed.
+
+Candeille had taken it into her frolicsome little head that she would
+like to go to London. The idea was of course in the nature of an
+experiment. Those dull English people over the water knew so little
+of what good acting really meant. Tragedy? Well! passons! Their heavy,
+large-boned actresses might manage one or two big scenes where a
+commanding presence and a powerful voice would not come amiss, and where
+prominent teeth would pass unnoticed in the agony of a dramatic climax.
+
+But Comedy!
+
+Ah! ca non, par example! Demoiselle Candeille had seen several English
+gentlemen and ladies in those same olden days at the Tuileries, but
+she really could not imagine any of them enacting the piquant scenes of
+Moliere or Beaumarchais.
+
+Demoiselle Candeille thought of every English-born individual as having
+very large teeth. Now large teeth do not lend themselves to well-spoken
+comedy scenes, to smiles, or to double entendre.
+
+Her own teeth were exceptionally small and white, and very sharp, like
+those of a kitten.
+
+Yes! Demoiselle Candeille thought it would be extremely interesting to
+go to London and to show to a nation of shopkeepers how daintily one can
+be amused in a theatre.
+
+Permission to depart from Paris was easy to obtain. In fact the fair
+lady had never really found it difficult to obtain anything she very
+much wanted.
+
+In this case she had plenty of friends in high places. Marat was still
+alive and a great lover of the theatre. Tallien was a personal admirer
+of hers, Deputy Dupont would do anything she asked.
+
+She wanted to act in London, at a theatre called Drury Lane. She wanted
+to play Moliere in England in French, and had already spoken with
+several of her colleagues, who were ready to join her. They would give
+public representations in aid of the starving population of France;
+there were plenty of Socialistic clubs in London quite Jacobin and
+Revolutionary in tendency: their members would give her full support.
+
+She would be serving her country and her countrymen and incidentally see
+something of the world, and amuse herself. She was bored in Paris.
+
+Then she thought of Marguerite St. Just, once of the Maison Moliere, who
+had captivated an English milor of enormous wealth. Demoiselle Candeille
+had never been of the Maison Moliere; she had been the leading star of
+one of the minor--yet much-frequented--theatres of Paris, but she felt
+herself quite able and ready to captivate some other unattached milor,
+who would load her with English money and incidentally bestow an English
+name upon her.
+
+So she went to London.
+
+The experiment, however, had not proved an unmitigated success. At first
+she and her company did obtain a few engagements at one or two of the
+minor theatres, to give representations of some of the French classical
+comedies in the original language.
+
+But these never quite became the fashion. The feeling against France
+and all her doings was far too keen in that very set, which Demoiselle
+Candeille had desired to captivate with her talents, to allow of the
+English jeunesse doree to flock and see Moliere played in French, by a
+French troupe, whilst Candeille's own compatriots resident in England
+had given her but scant support.
+
+One section of these--the aristocrats and emigres--looked upon the
+actress who was a friend of all the Jacobins in Paris as nothing better
+than canaille. They sedulously ignored her presence in this country, and
+snubbed her whenever they had an opportunity.
+
+The other section--chiefly consisting of agents and spies of the
+Revolutionary Government--she would gladly have ignored. They had at
+first made a constant demand on her purse, her talents and her time:
+then she grew tired of them, and felt more and more chary of being
+identified with a set which was in such ill-odour with that very same
+jeunesse doree whom Candeille had desired to please.
+
+In her own country she was and always had been a good republican: Marat
+had given her her first start in life by his violent praises of her
+talent in his widely-circulated paper; she had been associated in
+Paris with the whole coterie of artists and actors: every one of them
+republican to a man. But in London, although one might be snubbed by
+the emigres and aristocrats--it did not do to be mixed up with the
+sans-culotte journalists and pamphleteers who haunted the Socialistic
+clubs of the English capital, and who were the prime organizers of all
+those seditious gatherings and treasonable unions that caused Mr. Pitt
+and his colleagues so much trouble and anxiety.
+
+One by one, Desiree Candeille's comrades, male and female, who had
+accompanied her to England, returned to their own country. When war was
+declared, some of them were actually sent back under the provisions of
+the Aliens Bill.
+
+But Desiree had stayed on.
+
+Her old friends in Paris had managed to advise her that she would not
+be very welcome there just now. The sans-culotte journalists of England,
+the agents and spies of the Revolutionary Government, had taken their
+revenge of the frequent snubs inflicted upon them by the young actress,
+and in those days the fact of being unwelcome in France was apt to have
+a more lurid and more dangerous significant.
+
+Candeille did not dare return: at any rate not for the present.
+
+She trusted to her own powers of intrigue, and her well-known
+fascinations, to re-conquer the friendship of the Jacobin clique, and
+she once more turned her attention to the affiliated Socialistic clubs
+of England. But between the proverbial two stools, Demoiselle Candeille
+soon came to the ground. Her machinations became known in official
+quarters, her connection with all the seditious clubs of London was soon
+bruited abroad, and one evening Desiree found herself confronted with
+a document addressed to her: "From the Office of His Majesty's Privy
+Seal," wherein it was set forth that, pursuant to the statute 33 George
+III. cap. 5, she, Desiree Candeille, a French subject now resident in
+England, was required to leave this kingdom by order of His Majesty
+within seven days, and that in the event of the said Desiree Candeille
+refusing to comply with this order, she would be liable to commitment,
+brought to trial and sentenced to imprisonment for a month, and
+afterwards to removal within a limited time under pain of transportation
+for life.
+
+This meant that Demoiselle Candeille had exactly seven days in which to
+make complete her reconciliation with her former friends who now ruled
+Paris and France with a relentless and perpetually bloodstained hand.
+No wonder that during the night which followed the receipt of this
+momentous document, Demoiselle Candeille suffered gravely from insomnia.
+
+She dared not go back to France, she was ordered out of England! What
+was to become of her?
+
+This was just three days before the eventful afternoon of the Richmond
+Gala, and twenty-four hours after ex-Ambassador Chauvelin had landed in
+England. Candeille and Chauvelin had since then met at the "Cercle des
+Jacobins Francais" in Soho Street, and now fair Desiree found herself in
+lodgings in Richmond, the evening of the day following the Gala, feeling
+that her luck had not altogether deserted her.
+
+One conversation with Citizen Chauvelin had brought the fickle jade
+back to Demoiselle Candeilles' service. Nay, more, the young actress
+saw before her visions of intrigue, of dramatic situations, of pleasant
+little bits of revenge;--all of which was meat and drink and air to
+breathe for Mademoiselle Desiree.
+
+She was to sing in one of the most fashionable salons in England: that
+was very pleasant. The Prince of Wales would hear and see her! that
+opened out a vista of delightful possibilities! And all she had to do
+was to act a part dictated to her by Citizen Chauvelin, to behave as
+he directed, to move in the way he wished! Well! that was easy enough,
+since the part which she would have to play was one peculiarly suited to
+her talents.
+
+She looked at herself critically in the glass. Her maid Fanchon--a
+little French waif picked up in the slums of Soho--helped to readjust a
+stray curl which had rebelled against the comb.
+
+"Now for the necklace, Mademoiselle," said Fanchon with suppressed
+excitement.
+
+It had just arrived by messenger: a large morocco case, which now lay
+open on the dressing table, displaying its dazzling contents.
+
+Candeille scarcely dared to touch it, and yet it was for her. Citizen
+Chauvelin had sent a note with it.
+
+"Citizeness Candeille will please accept this gift from the government
+of France in acknowledgment of useful services past and to come."
+
+The note was signed with Robespierre's own name, followed by that of
+Citizen Chauvelin. The morocco case contained a necklace of diamonds
+worth the ransom of a king.
+
+"For useful services past and to come!" and there were promises of still
+further rewards, a complete pardon for all defalcations, a place
+within the charmed circle of the Comedie Francaise, a grand pageant
+and apotheosis with Citizeness Candeille impersonating the Goddess of
+Reason, in the midst of a grand national fete, and the acclamations of
+excited Paris: and all in exchange for the enactment of a part--simple
+and easy--outlined for her by Chauvelin!...
+
+How strange! how inexplicable! Candeille took the necklace up in her
+trembling fingers and gazed musingly at the priceless gems. She had seen
+the jewels before, long, long ago! round the neck of the Duchesse de
+Marny, in whose service her own mother had been. She--as a child--had
+often gazed at and admired the great lady, who seemed like a wonderful
+fairy from an altogether world, to the poor little kitchen slut.
+
+How wonderful are the vagaries of fortune! Desiree Candeille, the
+kitchen-maid's daughter, now wearing her ex-mistress' jewels.
+She supposed that these had been confiscated when the last of the
+Marnys--the girl, Juliette--had escaped from France! confiscated and now
+sent to her--Candeille--as a reward or as a bribe!
+
+In either case they were welcome. The actress' vanity was soothed. She
+knew Juliette Marny was in England, and that she would meet her to-night
+at Lady Blakeney's. After the many snubs which she had endured from
+French aristocrats settled in England, the actress felt that she was
+about to enjoy an evening of triumph.
+
+The intrigue excited her. She did not quite know what schemes Chauvelin
+was aiming at, what ultimate end he had had in view when he commanded
+her services and taught her the part which he wished her to play.
+
+That the schemes were vast and the end mighty, she could not doubt. The
+reward she had received was proof enough of that.
+
+Little Fanchon stood there in speechless admiration, whilst her mistress
+still fondly fingered the magnificent necklace.
+
+"Mademoiselle will wear the diamond to-night?" she asked with evident
+anxiety: she would have been bitterly disappointed to have seen the
+beautiful thing once more relegated to its dark morocco case.
+
+"Oh, yes, Fanchon!" said Candeille with a sigh of great satisfaction;
+"see that they are fastened quite securely, my girl."
+
+She put the necklace round her shapely neck and Fanchon looked to see
+that the clasp was quite secure.
+
+There came the sound of loud knocking at the street door.
+
+"That is M. Chauvelin come to fetch me with the chaise. Am I quite
+ready, Fanchon?" asked Desiree Candeille.
+
+"Oh yes, Mademoiselle!" sighed the little maid; "and Mademoiselle looks
+very beautiful to-night."
+
+"Lady Blakeney is very beautiful too, Fanchon," rejoined the actress
+naively, "but I wonder if she will wear anything as fine as the Marny
+necklace?"
+
+The knocking at the street door was repeated. Candeille took a final,
+satisfied survey of herself in the glass. She knew her part and felt
+that she had dressed well for it. She gave a final, affectionate
+little tap to the diamonds round her neck, took her cloak and hood from
+Fanchon, and was ready to go.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter X: Lady Blakeney's Rout
+
+
+
+There are several accounts extant, in the fashionable chronicles of the
+time, of the gorgeous reception given that autumn by Lady Blakeney in
+her magnificent riverside home.
+
+Never had the spacious apartments of Blakeney Manor looked more
+resplendent than on this memorable occasion--memorable because of the
+events which brought the brilliant evening to a close.
+
+The Prince of Wales had come over by water from Carlton House; the Royal
+Princesses came early, and all fashionable London was there, chattering
+and laughing, displaying elaborate gowns and priceless jewels dancing,
+flirting, listening to the strains of the string band, or strolling
+listlessly in the gardens, where the late roses and clumps of heliotrope
+threw soft fragrance on the balmy air.
+
+But Marguerite was nervous and agitated. Strive how she might, she
+could not throw off that foreboding of something evil to come, which had
+assailed her from the first moment when she met Chauvelin face to face.
+
+That unaccountable feeling of unreality was still upon her, that sense
+that she, and the woman Candeille, Percy and even His Royal Highness
+were, for the time being, the actors in a play written and stage-managed
+by Chauvelin. The ex-ambassador's humility, his offers of friendship,
+his quietude under Sir Percy's good-humoured banter, everything was a
+sham. Marguerite knew it; her womanly instinct, her passionate love, all
+cried out to her in warning: but there was that in her husband's nature
+which rendered her powerless in the face of such dangers, as, she felt
+sure, were now threatening him.
+
+Just before her guests had begun to assemble, she had been alone with
+him for a few minutes. She had entered the room in which he sat, looking
+radiantly beautiful in a shimmering gown of white and silver, with
+diamonds in her golden hair and round her exquisite neck.
+
+Moments like this, when she was alone with him, were the joy of her
+life. Then and then only did she see him as he really was, with that
+wistful tenderness in his deep-set eyes, that occasional flash
+of passion from beneath the lazily-drooping lids. For a few
+minutes--seconds, mayhap--the spirit of the reckless adventurer was laid
+to rest, relegated into the furthermost background of this senses by the
+powerful emotions of the lover.
+
+Then he would seize her in his arms, and hold her to him, with a strange
+longing to tear from out his heart all other thoughts, feelings and
+passions save those which made him a slave to her beauty and her smiles.
+
+"Percy!" she whispered to him to-night when freeing herself from his
+embrace she looked up at him, and for this one heavenly second felt
+him all her own. "Percy, you will do nothing rash, nothing foolhardy
+to-night. That man had planned all that took place yesterday. He hates
+you, and ..."
+
+In a moment his face and attitude had changed, the heavy lids drooped
+over the eyes, the rigidity of the mouth relaxed, and that quaint,
+half-shy, half-inane smile played around the firm lips.
+
+"Of course he does, m'dear," he said in his usual affected, drawly
+tones, "of course he does, but that is so demmed amusing. He does not
+really know what or how much he knows, or what I know.... In fact...
+er... we none of us know anything... just at present...."
+
+He laughed lightly and carelessly, then deliberately readjusted the set
+of his lace tie.
+
+"Percy!" she said reproachfully.
+
+"Yes, m'dear."
+
+"Lately when you brought Deroulede and Juliette Marny to England... I
+endured agonies of anxiety... and..."
+
+He sighed, a quick, short, wistful sigh, and said very gently:
+
+"I know you did, m'dear, and that is where the trouble lies. I know that
+you are fretting, so I have to be so demmed quick about the business,
+so as not to keep you in suspense too long.... And now I can't take
+Ffoulkes away from his young wife, and Tony and the others are so mighty
+slow."
+
+"Percy!" she said once more with tender earnestness.
+
+"I know, I know," he said with a slight frown of self-reproach. "La!
+but I don't deserve your solicitude. Heavens know what a brute I was for
+years, whilst I neglected you, and ignored the noble devotion which I,
+alas! do even now so little to deserve."
+
+She would have said something more, but was interrupted by the entrance
+of Juliette Marny into the room.
+
+"Some of your guests have arrived, Lady Blakeney," said the young girl,
+apologising for her seeming intrusion. "I thought you would wish to
+know."
+
+Juliette looked very young and girlish in a simple white gown, without
+a single jewel on her arms or neck. Marguerite regarded her with
+unaffected approval.
+
+"You look charming to-night, Mademoiselle, does she not, Sir Percy?"
+
+"Thanks to your bounty," smiled Juliette, a trifle sadly. "Whilst
+I dressed to-night, I felt how I should have loved to wear my dear
+mother's jewels, of which she used to be so proud."
+
+"We must hope that you will recover them, dear, some day," said
+Marguerite vaguely, as she led the young girl out of the small study
+towards the larger reception rooms.
+
+"Indeed I hope so," sighed Juliette. "When times became so troublous in
+France after my dear father's death, his confessor and friend, the Abbe
+Foucquet, took charge of all my mother's jewels for me. He said they
+would be safe with the ornaments of his own little church at Boulogne.
+He feared no sacrilege, and thought they would be most effectually
+hidden there, for no one would dream of looking for the Marny diamonds
+in the crypt of a country church."
+
+Marguerite said nothing in reply. Whatever her own doubts might be upon
+such a subject, it could serve no purpose to disturb the young girl's
+serenity.
+
+"Dear Abbe Foucquet," said Juliette after a while, "his is the kind of
+devotion which I feel sure will never be found under the new regimes of
+anarchy and of so-called equality. He would have laid down his life for
+my father or for me. And I know that he would never part with the jewels
+which I entrusted to his care, whilst he had breath and strength to
+defend them."
+
+Marguerite would have wished to pursue the subject a little further.
+It was very pathetic to witness poor Juliette's hopes and confidences,
+which she felt sure would never be realised.
+
+Lady Blakeney knew so much of what was going on in France just now:
+spoliations, confiscations, official thefts, open robberies, all in the
+name of equality, of fraternity and of patriotism. She knew nothing,
+of course, of the Abbe Foucquet, but the tender little picture of the
+devoted old man, painted by Juliette's words, had appealed strongly to
+her sympathetic heart.
+
+Instinct and knowledge of the political aspect of France told her that
+by entrusting valuable family jewels to the old Abbe, Juliette had most
+unwittingly placed the man she so much trusted in danger of persecution
+at the hands of a government which did not even admit the legality of
+family possessions. However, there was neither time nor opportunity now
+to enlarge upon the subject. Marguerite resolved to recur to it a little
+later, when she would be alone with Mlle. de Marny, and above all
+when she could take counsel with her husband as to the best means of
+recovering the young girl's property for her, whilst relieving a devoted
+old man from the dangerous responsibility which he had so selflessly
+undertaken.
+
+In the meanwhile the two women had reached the first of the long line
+of state apartments wherein the brilliant fete was to take place.
+The staircase and the hall below were already filled with the early
+arrivals. Bidding Juliette to remain in the ballroom, Lady Blakeney now
+took up her stand on the exquisitely decorated landing, ready to greet
+her guests. She had a smile and a pleasant word for all, as, in a
+constant stream, the elite of London fashionable society began to file
+past her, exchanging the elaborate greetings which the stilted mode of
+the day prescribed to this butterfly-world.
+
+The lacqueys in the hall shouted the names of the guests as they passed
+up the stairs: names celebrated in politics, in worlds of sport, of
+science or of art, great historic names, humble, newly-made ones, noble
+illustrious titles. The spacious rooms were filling fast. His Royal
+Highness, so 'twas said, had just stepped out of his barge. The noise of
+laughter and chatter was incessant, like unto a crowd of gaily-plumaged
+birds. Huge bunches of apricot- roses in silver vases made the
+air heavy with their subtle perfume. Fans began to flutter. The string
+band struck the preliminary cords of the gavotte.
+
+At that moment the lacqueys at the foot of the stairs called out in
+stentorian tones:
+
+"Mademoiselle Desiree Candeille! and Monsieur Chauvelin!"
+
+Marguerite's heart gave a slight flutter; she felt a sudden tightening
+of the throat. She did not see Candeille at first, only the slight
+figure of Chauvelin dressed all in black, as usual, with head bent
+and hands clasped behind his back; he was slowly mounting the wide
+staircase, between a double row of brilliantly attired men and women,
+who looked with no small measure of curiosity at the ex-ambassador from
+revolutionary France.
+
+Demoiselle Candeille was leading the way up the stairs. She paused on
+the landing in order to make before her hostess a most perfect and most
+elaborate curtsey. She looked smiling and radiant, beautifully dressed,
+a small wreath of wrought gold leaves in her hair, her only jewel an
+absolutely regal one, a magnificent necklace of diamonds round her
+shapely throat.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XI: The Challenge
+
+
+
+It all occurred just before midnight, in one of the smaller rooms, which
+lead in enfilade from the principal ballroom.
+
+Dancing had been going on for some time, but the evening was close,
+and there seemed to be a growing desire on the part of Lady Blakeney's
+guests to wander desultorily through the gardens and glasshouses, or sit
+about where some measure of coolness could be obtained.
+
+There was a rumour that a new and charming French artiste was to sing a
+few peculiarly ravishing songs, unheard in England before. Close to
+the main ballroom was the octagon music-room which was brilliantly
+illuminated, and in which a large number of chairs had been obviously
+disposed for the comfort of an audience. Into this room many of
+the guests had already assembled. It was quite clear that a
+chamber-concert--select and attractive as were all Lady Blakeney's
+entertainments--was in contemplation.
+
+Marguerite herself, released for a moment from her constant duties near
+her royal guests, had strolled through the smaller rooms, accompanied by
+Juliette, in order to search for Mademoiselle Candeille and to suggest
+the commencement of the improvised concert.
+
+Desiree Candeille had kept herself very much aloof throughout the
+evening, only talking to the one or two gentlemen whom her hostess had
+presented to her on her arrival, and with M. Chauvelin always in close
+attendance upon her every movement.
+
+Presently, when dancing began, she retired to a small boudoir, and
+there sat down, demurely waiting, until Lady Blakeney should require her
+services.
+
+When Marguerite and Juliette Marny entered the little room, she rose and
+came forward a few steps.
+
+"I am ready, Madame," she said pleasantly, "whenever you wish me to
+begin. I have thought out a short programme,--shall I start with the gay
+or the sentimental songs?"
+
+But before Marguerite had time to utter a reply, she felt her arm
+nervously clutched by a hot and trembling hand.
+
+"Who... who is this woman?" murmured Juliette Marny close to her ear.
+
+The young girl looked pale and very agitated, and her large eyes were
+fixed in unmistakable wrath upon the French actress before her. A little
+startled, not understanding Juliette's attitude, Marguerite tried to
+reply lightly:
+
+"This is Mademoiselle Candeille, Juliette dear," she said, affecting
+the usual formal introduction, "of the Varietes Theatre of
+Paris--Mademoiselle Desiree Candeille, who will sing some charming
+French ditties for us to-night."
+
+While she spoke she kept a restraining hand on Juliette's quivering
+arm. Already, with the keen intuition which had been on the qui-vive the
+whole evening, she scented some mystery in this sudden outburst on the
+part of her young protegee.
+
+But Juliette did not heed her: she felt surging up in her young,
+overburdened heart all the wrath and the contempt of the persecuted,
+fugitive aristocrat against the triumphant usurper. She had suffered so
+much from that particular class of the risen kitchen-wench of which the
+woman before her was so typical and example: years of sorrow, of poverty
+were behind her: loss of fortune, of kindred, of friends--she, even now
+a pauper, living on the bounty of strangers.
+
+And all this through no fault of her own: the fault of her class mayhap!
+but not hers!
+
+She had suffered much, and was still overwrought and nerve-strung: for
+some reason she could not afterwards have explained, she felt spiteful
+and uncontrolled, goaded into stupid fury by the look of insolence and
+of triumph with which Candeille calmly regarded her.
+
+Afterwards she would willingly have bitten out her tongue for her
+vehemence, but for the moment she was absolutely incapable of checking
+the torrent of her own emotions.
+
+"Mademoiselle Candeille, indeed?" she said in wrathful scorn, "Desiree
+Candeille, you mean, Lady Blakeney! my mother's kitchen-maid, flaunting
+shamelessly my dear mother's jewels which she has stolen mayhap..."
+
+The young girl was trembling from head to foot, tears of anger obscured
+her eyes; her voice, which fortunately remained low--not much above a
+whisper--was thick and husky.
+
+"Juliette! Juliette! I entreat you," admonished Marguerite, "you must
+control yourself, you must, indeed you must. Mademoiselle Candeille, I
+beg of you to retire...."
+
+But Candeille--well-schooled in the part she had to play--had no
+intention of quitting the field of battle. The more wrathful and excited
+Mademoiselle de Marny became the more insolent and triumphant waxed
+the young actress' whole attitude. An ironical smile played round the
+corners of her mouth, her almond-shaped eyes were half-closed, regarding
+through dropping lashed the trembling figure of the young impoverished
+aristocrat. Her head was thrown well back, in obvious defiance of
+the social conventions, which should have forbidden a fracas in Lady
+Blakeney's hospitable house, and her fingers provocatively toyed with
+the diamond necklace which glittered and sparkled round her throat.
+
+She had no need to repeat the words of a well-learnt part: her own wit,
+her own emotions and feelings helped her to act just as her employer
+would have wished her to do. Her native vulgarity helped her to assume
+the very bearing which he would have desired. In fact, at this moment
+Desiree Candeille had forgotten everything save the immediate present: a
+more than contemptuous snub from one of those penniless aristocrats, who
+had rendered her own sojourn in London so unpleasant and unsuccessful.
+
+She had suffered from these snubs before, but had never had the chance
+of forcing an esclandre, as a result of her own humiliation. That spirit
+of hatred for the rich and idle classes, which was so characteristic of
+revolutionary France, was alive and hot within her: she had never had
+an opportunity--she, the humble fugitive actress from a minor Paris
+theatre--to retort with forcible taunts to the ironical remarks made at
+and before her by the various poverty-stricken but haughty emigres who
+swarmed in those very same circles of London society into which she
+herself had vainly striven to penetrate.
+
+Now at last, one of this same hated class, provoked beyond self-control,
+was allowing childish and unreasoning fury to outstrip the usual calm
+irony of aristocratic rebuffs.
+
+Juliette had paused awhile, in order to check the wrathful tears which,
+much against her will, were choking the words in her throat and blinding
+her eyes.
+
+"Hoity! toity!" laughed Candeille, "hark at the young baggage!"
+
+But Juliette had turned to Marguerite and began explaining volubly:
+
+"My mother's jewels!" she said in the midst of her tears, "ask her
+how she came by them. When I was obliged to leave the home of my
+fathers,--stolen from me by the Revolutionary Government--I contrived to
+retain my mother's jewels... you remember, I told you just now.... The
+Abbe Foucquet--dear old man! Saved them for me... that and a little
+money which I had... he took charge of them... he said he would place
+them in safety with the ornaments of his church, and now I see them
+round that woman's neck... I know that he would not have parted with
+them save with his life."
+
+All the while that the young girl spoke in a voice half-choked with
+sobs, Marguerite tried with all the physical and mental will at her
+command to drag her out of the room and thus to put a summary ending to
+this unpleasant scene. She ought to have felt angry with Juliette for
+this childish and senseless outburst, were it not for the fact that
+somehow she knew within her innermost heart that all this had been
+arranged and preordained: not by Fate--not by a Higher Hand, but by the
+most skilful intriguer present-day France had ever known.
+
+And even now, as she was half succeeding in turning Juliette away from
+the sight of Candeille, she was not the least surprised or startled
+at seeing Chauvelin standing in the very doorway through which she had
+hoped to pass. One glance at his face had made her fears tangible and
+real: there was a look of satisfaction and triumph in his pale, narrow
+eyes, a flash in them of approbation directed at the insolent attitude
+of the French actress: he looked like the stage-manager of a play,
+content with the effect his own well-arranged scenes were producing.
+
+What he hoped to gain by this--somewhat vulgar--quarrel between the two
+women, Marguerite of course could not guess: that something was lurking
+in his mind, inimical to herself and to her husband, she did not for a
+moment doubt, and at this moment she felt that she would have given
+her very life to induce Candeille and Juliette to cease this passage of
+arms, without further provocation on either side.
+
+But though Juliette might have been ready to yield to Lady Blakeney's
+persuasion, Desiree Candeille, under Chauvelin's eye, and fired by her
+own desire to further humiliate this overbearing aristocrat, did not
+wish the little scene to end so tamely just yet.
+
+"Your old calotin was made to part with his booty, m'dear," she said,
+with a contemptuous shrug of her bare shoulders. "Paris and France have
+been starving these many years past: a paternal government seized all
+it could with which to reward those that served it well, whilst all that
+would have been brought bread and meat for the poor was being greedily
+stowed away by shameless traitors!"
+
+Juliette winced at the insult.
+
+"Oh!" she moaned, as she buried her flaming face in her hands.
+
+Too late now did she realise that she had deliberately stirred up a
+mud-heap and sent noisome insects buzzing about her ears.
+
+"Mademoiselle," said Marguerite authoritatively, "I must ask you to
+remember that Mlle. de Marny is my friend and that you are a guest in my
+house."
+
+"Aye! I try not to forget it," rejoined Candeille lightly, "but of a
+truth you must admit, Citizeness, that it would require the patience
+of a saint to put up with the insolence of a penniless baggage, who but
+lately has had to stand her trial in her own country for impurity of
+conduct."
+
+There was a moment's silence, whilst Marguerite distinctly heard a
+short sigh of satisfaction escaping from the lips of Chauvelin. Then a
+pleasant laugh broke upon the ears of the four actors who were enacting
+the dramatic little scene, and Sir Percy Blakeney, immaculate in his
+rich white satin coat and filmy lace ruffles, exquisite in manners and
+courtesy, entered the little boudoir, and with his long back slightly
+bent, his arm outstretched in a graceful and well-studied curve, he
+approached Mademoiselle Desiree Candeille.
+
+"May I have the honour," he said with his most elaborate air of courtly
+deference, "of conducting Mademoiselle to her chaise?"
+
+In the doorway just behind him stood His Royal Highness the Prince of
+Wales chatting with apparent carelessness to Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and
+Lord Anthony Dewhurst. A curtain beyond the open door was partially
+drawn aside, disclosing one or two brilliantly dressed groups, strolling
+desultorily through the further rooms.
+
+The four persons assembled in the little boudoir had been so absorbed
+by their own passionate emotions and the violence of their quarrel
+that they had not noticed the approach of Sir Percy Blakeney and of his
+friends. Juliette and Marguerite certainly were startled and Candeille
+was evidently taken unawares. Chauvelin alone seemed quite indifferent
+and stood back a little when Sir Percy advanced, in order to allow him
+to pass.
+
+But Candeille recovered quickly enough from her surprise: without
+heeding Blakeney's proffered arm, she turned with all the airs of an
+insulted tragedy queen towards Marguerite.
+
+"So 'tis I," she said with affected calm, "who am to bear every insult
+in a house in which I was bidden as a guest. I am turned out like some
+intrusive and importunate beggar, and I, the stranger in this land, am
+destined to find that amidst all these brilliant English gentlemen there
+is not one man of honour.
+
+"M. Chauvelin," she added loudly, "our beautiful country has, meseems,
+deputed you to guard the honour as well as the worldly goods of your
+unprotected compatriots. I call upon you, in the name of France, to
+avenge the insults offered to me to-night."
+
+She looked round defiantly from one to the other of the several faces
+which were now turned towards her, but no one, for the moment, spoke or
+stirred. Juliette, silent and ashamed, had taken Marguerite's hand in
+hers, and was clinging to it as if wishing to draw strength of character
+and firmness of purpose through the pores of the other woman's delicate
+skin.
+
+Sir Percy with backbone still bent in a sweeping curve had not relaxed
+his attitude of uttermost deference. The Prince of Wales and his friends
+were viewing the scene with slightly amused aloofness.
+
+For a moment--seconds at most--there was dead silence in the room,
+during which time it almost seemed as if the beating of several hearts
+could be distinctly heard.
+
+Then Chauvelin, courtly and urbane, stepped calmly forward.
+
+"Believe me, Citizeness," he said, addressing Candeille directly and
+with marked emphasis, "I am entirely at your command, but am I not
+helpless, seeing that those who have so grossly insulted you are of your
+own irresponsible, if charming, sex?"
+
+Like a great dog after a nap, Sir Percy Blakeney straightened his long
+back and stretched it out to its full length.
+
+"La!" he said pleasantly, "my ever engaging friend from Calais. Sir,
+your servant. Meseems we are ever destined to discuss amiable matters,
+in an amiable spirit.... A glass of punch, Monsieur... er... Chauvelin?"
+
+"I must ask you, Sir Percy," rejoined Chauvelin sternly, "to view this
+matter with becoming seriousness."
+
+"Seriousness is never becoming, sir," said Blakeney, politely smothering
+a slight yawn, "and it is vastly unbecoming in the presence of ladies."
+
+"Am I to understand then, Sir Percy," said Chauvelin, "that you are
+prepared to apologize to Mademoiselle Candeille for this insult offered
+to her by Lady Blakeney?"
+
+Sir Percy again tried to smother that tiresome little yawn, which seemed
+most distressing, when he desired to be most polite. Then he flicked
+off a grain of dust from his immaculate lace ruffle and buried his long,
+slender hands in the capacious pockets of his white satin breeches;
+finally he said with the most good-natured of smiles:
+
+"Sir, have you seen the latest fashion in cravats? I would wish to
+draw your attention to the novel way in which we in England tie a
+Mechlin-edged bow."
+
+"Sir Percy," retorted Chauvelin firmly, "since you will not offer
+Mademoiselle Candeille the apology which she has the right to expect
+from you, are you prepared that you and I should cross swords like
+honourable gentlemen?"
+
+Blakeney laughed his usual pleasant, somewhat shy laugh, shook his
+powerful frame and looked from his altitude of six feet three inches
+down on the small, sable-clad figure of ex-Ambassador Chauvelin.
+
+"The question is, sir," he said slowly, "should we then be two
+honourable gentlemen crossing swords?"
+
+"Sir Percy..."
+
+"Sir?"
+
+Chauvelin, who for one moment had seemed ready to lose his temper,
+now made a sudden effort to resume a calm and easy attitude and said
+quietly:
+
+"Of course, if one of us is coward enough to shirk the contest..."
+
+He did not complete the sentence, but shrugged his shoulders expressive
+of contempt. The other side of the curtained doorway a little crowd had
+gradually assembled, attracted hither by the loud and angry voices which
+came from that small boudoir. Host and hostess had been missed from the
+reception rooms for some time, His Royal Highness, too, had not been
+seen for the quarter of an hour: like flies attracted by the light, one
+by one, or in small isolated groups, some of Lady Blakeney's quests had
+found their way to the room adjoining the royal presence.
+
+As His Highness was standing in the doorway itself, no one could of
+course cross the threshold, but everyone could see into the room, and
+could take stock of the various actors in the little comedy. They were
+witnessing a quarrel between the French envoy and Sir Percy Blakeney
+wherein the former was evidently in deadly earnest and the latter merely
+politely bored. Amused comments flew to and fro: laughter and a babel of
+irresponsible chatter made an incessant chirruping accompaniment to the
+duologue between the two men.
+
+But at this stage, the Prince of Wales, who hitherto had seemingly kept
+aloof from the quarrel, suddenly stepped forward and abruptly interposed
+the weight of his authority and of his social position between the
+bickering adversaries.
+
+"Tush, man!" he said impatiently, turning more especially towards
+Chauvelin, "you talk at random. Sir Percy Blakeney is an English
+gentleman, and the laws of this country do not admit of duelling, as you
+understand it in France; and I for one certainly could not allow..."
+
+"Pardon, your Royal Highness," interrupted Sir Percy with irresistible
+bonhomie, "your Highness does not understand the situation. My engaging
+friend here does not propose that I should transgress the laws of this
+country, but that I should go over to France with him, and fight him
+there, where duelling and... er... other little matters of that sort are
+allowed."
+
+"Yes! quite so!" rejoined the Prince, "I understand M. Chauvelin's
+desire. ... But what about you, Blakeney?"
+
+"Oh!" replied Sir Percy lightly, "I have accepted his challenge, of
+course!"
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XII: Time--Place--Conditions
+
+
+
+It would be very difficult indeed to say why--at Blakeney's lightly
+spoken words--an immediate silence should have fallen upon all those
+present. All the actors in the little drawing-room drama, who had played
+their respective parts so unerringly up to now, had paused a while, just
+as if an invisible curtain had come down, marking the end of a scene,
+and the interval during which the players might recover strength and
+energy to resume their roles. The Prince of Wales as foremost spectator
+said nothing for the moment, and beyond the doorway, the audience there
+assembled seemed suddenly to be holding its breath, waiting--eager,
+expectant, palpitation--for what would follow now.
+
+Only here and there the gentle frou-frou of a silk skirt, the rhythmic
+flutter of a fan, broke those few seconds' deadly, stony silence.
+
+Yet it was all simple enough. A fracas between two ladies, the gentlemen
+interposing, a few words of angry expostulation, then the inevitable
+suggestion of Belgium or of some other country where the childish and
+barbarous custom of settling such matters with a couple of swords had
+not been as yet systematically stamped out.
+
+The whole scene--with but slight variations--had occurred scores of
+times in London drawing-rooms, English gentlemen had scores of times
+crossed the Channel for the purpose of settling similar quarrels in
+continental fashion.
+
+Why should the present situation appear so abnormal? Sir Percy
+Blakeney--an accomplished gentleman--was past master in the art of
+fence, and looked more than a match in strength and dexterity for the
+meagre, sable-clad little opponent who had so summarily challenged him
+to cross over to France, in order to fight a duel.
+
+But somehow everyone had a feeling at this moment that this proposed
+duel would be unlike any other combat every fought between two
+antagonists. Perhaps it was the white, absolutely stony and unexpressive
+face of Marguerite which suggested a latent tragedy: perhaps it was the
+look of unmistakable horror in Juliette's eyes, or that of triumph
+in those of Chauvelin, or even that certain something in His Royal
+Highness' face, which seemed to imply that the Prince, careless man of
+the world as he was, would have given much to prevent this particular
+meeting from taking place.
+
+Be that as it may, there is no doubt that a certain wave of electrical
+excitement swept over the little crowd assembled there, the while
+the chief actor in the little drama, the inimitable dandy, Sir Percy
+Blakeney himself, appeared deeply engrossed in removing a speck of
+powder from the wide black satin ribbon which held his gold-rimmed
+eyeglass.
+
+"Gentlemen!" said His Royal Highness suddenly, "we are forgetting the
+ladies. My lord Hastings," he added, turning to one of the gentlemen
+who stood close to him, "I pray you to remedy this unpardonable neglect.
+Men's quarrels are not fit for ladies' dainty ears."
+
+Sir Percy looked up from his absorbing occupation. His eyes met those
+of his wife; she was like a marble statue, hardly conscious of what was
+going on round her. But he, who knew every emotion which swayed that
+ardent and passionate nature, guessed that beneath that stony calm there
+lay a mad, almost unconquerable impulse: and that was to shout to all
+these puppets here, the truth, the awful, the unanswerable truth, to
+tell them what this challenge really meant; a trap wherein one man
+consumed with hatred and desire for revenge hoped to entice a brave and
+fearless foe into a death-dealing snare.
+
+Full well did Percy Blakeney guess that for the space of one second
+his most cherished secret hovered upon his wife's lips, one turn of
+the balance of Fate, one breath from the mouth of an unseen sprite, and
+Marguerite was ready to shout:
+
+"Do not allow this monstrous thing to be! The Scarlet Pimpernel, whom
+you all admire for his bravery, and love for his daring, stands before
+you now, face to face with his deadliest enemy, who is here to lure him
+to his doom!"
+
+For that momentous second therefore Percy Blakeney held his wife's
+gaze with the magnetism of his own; all there was in him of love, of
+entreaty, of trust, and of command went out to her through that look
+with which he kept her eyes riveted upon his face.
+
+Then he saw the rigidity of her attitude relax. She closed her eyes in
+order to shut out the whole world from her suffering soul. She seemed
+to be gathering all the mental force of which her brain was capable, for
+one great effort of self-control. Then she took Juliette's hand in hers,
+and turned to go out of the room; the gentlemen bowed as she swept past
+them, her rich silken gown making a soft hush-sh-sh as she went. She
+nodded to some, curtseyed to the Prince, and had at the last moment
+the supreme courage and pride to turn her head once more towards her
+husband, in order to reassure him finally that his secret was as safe
+with her now, in this hour of danger, as it had been in the time of
+triumph.
+
+She smiled and passed out of his sight, preceded by Desiree Candeille,
+who, escorted by one of the gentlemen, had become singularly silent and
+subdued.
+
+In the little room now there only remained a few men. Sir Andrew
+Ffoulkes had taken the precaution of closing the door after the ladies
+had gone.
+
+Then His Royal Highness turned once more to Monsieur Chauvelin and said
+with an obvious show of indifference:
+
+"Faith, Monsieur! meseems we are all enacting a farce, which can have
+no final act. I vow that I cannot allow my friend Blakeney to go over to
+France at your bidding. Your government now will not allow my father's
+subjects to land on your shores without a special passport, and then
+only for a specific purpose."
+
+"La, your Royal Highness," interposed Sir Percy, "I pray you have no
+fear for me on that score. My engaging friend here has--an I mistake
+not--a passport ready for me in the pocket of his sable-hued coat, and
+as we are hoping effectually to spit one another over there... gadzooks!
+but there's the specific purpose.... Is it not true, sir," he added,
+turning once more to Chauvelin, "that in the pocket of that exquisitely
+cut coat of yours, you have a passport--name in blank perhaps--which you
+had specially designed for me?"
+
+It was so carelessly, so pleasantly said, that no one save Chauvelin
+guessed the real import of Sir Percy's words. Chauvelin, of course, knew
+their inner meaning: he understood that Blakeney wished to convey to him
+the fact that he was well aware that the whole scene to-night had been
+prearranged, and that it was willingly and with eyes wide open that he
+walked into the trap which the revolutionary patriot had so carefully
+laid for him.
+
+"The passport will be forthcoming in due course, sir," retorted
+Chauvelin evasively, "when our seconds have arranged all formalities."
+
+"Seconds be demmed, sir," rejoined Sir Percy placidly, "you do not
+propose, I trust, that we travel a whole caravan to France."
+
+"Time, place and conditions must be settled, Sir Percy," replied
+Chauvelin; "you are too accomplished a cavalier, I feel sure, to wish to
+arrange such formalities yourself."
+
+"Nay! neither you nor I, Monsieur... er... Chauvelin," quoth Sir Percy
+blandly, "could, I own, settle such things with persistent good-humour;
+and good-humour in such cases is the most important of all formalities.
+Is it not so?"
+
+"Certainly, Sir Percy."
+
+"As for seconds? Perish the thought. One second only, I entreat, and
+that one a lady--the most adorable--the most detestable--the most
+true--the most fickle amidst all her charming sex.... Do you agree,
+sir?"
+
+"You have not told me her name, Sir Percy?"
+
+"Chance, Monsieur, Chance.... With His Royal Highness' permission let
+the wilful jade decide."
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"Three throws of the dice, Monsieur.... Time... Place... Conditions, you
+said--three throws and the winner names them.... Do you agree?"
+
+Chauvelin hesitated. Sir Percy's bantering mood did not quite fit
+in with his own elaborate plans, moreover the ex-ambassador feared
+a pitfall of some sort, and did not quite like to trust to this
+arbitration of the dice-box.
+
+He turned, quite involuntarily, in appeal to the Prince of Wales and the
+other gentlemen present.
+
+But the Englishman of those days was a born gambler. He lived with the
+dice-box in one pocket and a pack of cards in the other. The Prince
+himself was no exception to this rule, and the first gentleman in
+England was the most avowed worshipper of Hazard in the land.
+
+"Chance, by all means," quoth His Highness gaily.
+
+"Chance! Chance!" repeated the others eagerly.
+
+In the midst of so hostile a crowd, Chauvelin felt it unwise to resist.
+Moreover, one second's reflection had already assured him that this
+throwing of the dice could not seriously interfere with the success of
+his plans. If the meeting took place at all--and Sir Percy now had gone
+too far to draw back--then of necessity it would have to take place in
+France.
+
+The question of time and conditions of the fight, which at best would
+be only a farce--only a means to an end--could not be of paramount
+importance.
+
+Therefore he shrugged his shoulders with well-marked indifference, and
+said lightly:
+
+"As you please."
+
+There was a small table in the centre of the room with a settee and two
+or three chairs arranged close to it. Around this table now an eager
+little group had congregated: the Prince of Wales in the forefront,
+unwilling to interfere, scarce knowing what madcap plans were floating
+through Blakeney's adventurous brain, but excited in spite of himself at
+this momentous game of hazard the issues of which seemed so nebulous,
+so vaguely fraught with dangers. Close to him were Sir Andrew Ffoulkes,
+Lord Anthony Dewhurst, Lord Grenville and perhaps a half score
+gentlemen, young men about town mostly, gay and giddy butterflies of
+fashion, who did not even attempt to seek in this strange game of chance
+any hidden meaning save that it was one of Blakeney's irresponsible
+pranks.
+
+And in the centre of the compact group, Sir Percy Blakeney in his
+gorgeous suit of shimmering white satin, one knee bent upon a chair, and
+leaning with easy grace--dice-box in hand--across the small gilt-legged
+table; beside him ex-Ambassador Chauvelin, standing with arms folded
+behind his back, watching every movement of his brilliant adversary like
+some dark-plumaged hawk hovering near a bird of paradise.
+
+"Place first, Monsieur?" suggested Sir Percy.
+
+"As you will, sir," assented Chauvelin.
+
+He took up a dice-box which one of the gentlemen handed to him and the
+two men threw.
+
+"'Tis mine, Monsieur," said Blakeney carelessly, "mine to name the place
+where shall occur this historic encounter, 'twixt the busiest man
+in France and the most idle <DW2> that e'er disgraced these three
+kingdoms.... Just for the sake of argument, sir, what place would you
+suggest?"
+
+"Oh! the exact spot is immaterial, Sir Percy," replied Chauvelin coldly,
+"the whole of France stands at your disposal."
+
+"Aye! I thought as much, but could not be quite sure of such boundless
+hospitality," retorted Blakeney imperturbably.
+
+"Do you care for the woods around Paris, sir?"
+
+"Too far from the coast, sir. I might be sea-sick crossing over the
+Channel, and glad to get the business over as soon as possible.... No,
+not Paris, sir--rather let us say Boulogne.... Pretty little place,
+Boulogne... do you not think so...?"
+
+"Undoubtedly, Sir Percy."
+
+"Then Boulogne it is.. the ramparts, an you will, on the south side of
+the town."
+
+"As you please," rejoined Chauvelin drily. "Shall we throw again?"
+
+A murmur of merriment had accompanied this brief colloquy between the
+adversaries, and Blakeney's bland sallies were received with shouts of
+laughter. Now the dice rattled again and once more the two men threw.
+
+"'Tis yours this time, Monsieur Chauvelin," said Blakeney, after a rapid
+glance at the dice. "See how evenly Chance favours us both. Mine, the
+choice of place... admirably done you'll confess.... Now yours the
+choice of time. I wait upon your pleasure, sir.... The southern ramparts
+at Boulogne--when?"
+
+"The fourth day from this, sir, at the hour when the Cathedral bell
+chimes the evening Angelus," came Chauvelin's ready reply.
+
+"Nay! but methought that your demmed government had abolished
+Cathedrals, and bells and chimes.... The people of France have now to
+go to hell their own way... for the way to heaven has been barred by
+the National Convention.... Is that not so?... Methought the Angelus was
+forbidden to be rung."
+
+"Not at Boulogne, I think, Sir Percy," retorted Chauvelin drily, "and
+I'll pledge you my word that the evening Angelus shall be rung that
+night."
+
+"At what hour is that, sir?"
+
+"One hour after sundown."
+
+"But why four days after this? Why not two or three?"
+
+"I might have asked, why the southern ramparts, Sir Percy; why not the
+western? I chose the fourth day--does it not suit you?" asked Chauvelin
+ironically.
+
+"Suit me! Why, sir, nothing could suit me better," rejoined Blakeney
+with his pleasant laugh. "Zounds! but I call it marvellous... demmed
+marvellous... I wonder now," he added blandly, "what made you think of
+the Angelus?"
+
+Everyone laughed at this, a little irrelevantly perhaps.
+
+"Ah!" continued Blakeney gaily, "I remember now.... Faith! to think that
+I was nigh forgetting that when last you and I met, sir, you had just
+taken or were about to take Holy Orders.... Ah! how well the thought
+of the Angelus fits in with your clerical garb.... I recollect that the
+latter was mightily becoming to you, sir..."
+
+"Shall we proceed to settle the conditions of the fight, Sir Percy?"
+said Chauvelin, interrupting the flow of his antagonist's gibes, and
+trying to disguise his irritation beneath a mask of impassive reserve.
+
+"The choice of weapons you mean," here interposed His Royal Highness,
+"but I thought that swords had already been decided on."
+
+"Quite so, your Highness," assented Blakeney, "but there are various
+little matters in connection with this momentous encounter which are of
+vast importance.... Am I not right, Monsieur?... Gentlemen, I appeal to
+you.... Faith! one never knows... my engaging opponent here might desire
+that I should fight him in green socks, and I that he should wear a
+scarlet flower in his coat."
+
+"The Scarlet Pimpernel, Sir Percy?"
+
+"Why not, Monsieur? It would look so well in your buttonhole, against
+the black of the clerical coat, which I understand you sometime affect
+in France... and when it is withered and quite dead you would find that
+it would leave an overpowering odour in your nostrils, far stronger than
+that of incense."
+
+There was general laughter after this. The hatred which every member of
+the French revolutionary government--including, of course, ex-Ambassador
+Chauvelin--bore to the national hero was well known.
+
+"The conditions then, Sir Percy," said Chauvelin, without seeming to
+notice the taunt conveyed in Blakeney's last words. "Shall we throw
+again?"
+
+"After you, sir," acquiesced Sir Percy.
+
+For the third and last time the two opponents rattled the dice-box and
+threw. Chauvelin was now absolutely unmoved. These minor details quite
+failed to interest him. What mattered the conditions of the fight which
+was only intended as a bait with which to lure his enemy in the open?
+The hour and place were decided on and Sir Percy would not fail to come.
+Chauvelin knew enough of his opponent's boldly adventurous spirit not
+to feel in the least doubtful on that point. Even now, as he gazed with
+grudging admiration at the massive, well-knit figure of his arch-enemy,
+noted the thin nervy hands and square jaw, the low, broad forehead and
+deep-set, half-veiled eyes, he knew that in this matter wherein Percy
+Blakeney was obviously playing with his very life, the only emotion that
+really swayed him at this moment was his passionate love of adventure.
+
+The ruling passion strong in death!
+
+Yes! Sir Percy would be on the southern ramparts of Boulogne one
+hour after sunset on the day named, trusting, no doubt, in his usual
+marvellous good-fortune, his own presence of mind and his great physical
+and mental strength, to escape from the trap into which he was so ready
+to walk.
+
+That remained beyond a doubt! Therefore what mattered details?
+
+But even at this moment, Chauvelin had already resolved on one great
+thing: namely, that on that eventful day, nothing whatever should be
+left to Chance; he would meet his cunning enemy not only with cunning,
+but also with power, and if the entire force of the republican army
+then available in the north of France had to be requisitioned for the
+purpose, the ramparts of Boulogne would be surrounded and no chance of
+escape left for the daring Scarlet Pimpernel.
+
+His wave of meditation, however, was here abruptly stemmed by Blakeney's
+pleasant voice.
+
+"Lud! Monsieur Chauvelin," he said, "I fear me your luck has deserted
+you. Chance, as you see, has turned to me once more."
+
+"Then it is for you, Sir Percy," rejoined the Frenchman, "to name the
+conditions under which we are to fight."
+
+"Ah! that is so, is it not, Monsieur?" quoth Sir Percy lightly. "By my
+faith! I'll not plague you with formalities.... We'll fight with our
+coats on if it be cold, in our shirtsleeves if it be sultry.... I'll
+not demand either green socks or scarlet ornaments. I'll even try and
+be serious for the space of two minutes, sir, and confine my whole
+attention--the product of my infinitesimal brain--to thinking out some
+pleasant detail for this duel, which might be acceptable to you. Thus,
+sir, the thought of weapons springs to my mind.... Swords you said, I
+think. Sir! I will e'en restrict my choice of conditions to that of the
+actual weapons with which we are to fight.... Ffoulkes, I pray you," he
+added, turning to his friend, "the pair of swords which lie across the
+top of my desk at this moment....
+
+"We'll not ask a menial to fetch them, eh, Monsieur?" he continued
+gaily, as Sir Andrew Ffoulkes at a sign from him had quickly left the
+room. "What need to bruit our pleasant quarrel abroad? You will like the
+weapons, sir, and you shall have your own choice from the pair.... You
+are a fine fencer, I feel sure... and you shall decide if a scratch or
+two or a more serious wound shall be sufficient to avenge Mademoiselle
+Candeille's wounded vanity."
+
+Whilst he prattled so gaily on, there was dead silence among all
+those present. The Prince had his shrewd eyes steadily fixed upon him,
+obviously wondering what this seemingly irresponsible adventurer held
+at the back of his mind. There is no doubt that everyone felt oppressed,
+and that a strange murmur of anticipatory excitement went round the
+little room, when, a few seconds later, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes returned,
+with two sheathed swords in his hand.
+
+Blakeney took them from his friend and placed them on the little table
+in front of ex-Ambassador Chauvelin. The spectators strained their necks
+to look at the two weapons. They were exactly similar one to the
+other: both encased in plain black leather sheaths, with steel ferrules
+polished to shine like silver; the handles too were of plain steel,
+with just the grip fashioned in a twisted basket pattern of the same
+highly-tempered metal.
+
+"What think you of these weapons, Monsieur?" asked Blakeney, who was
+carelessly leaning against the back of a chair.
+
+Chauvelin took up one of the two swords and slowly drew it from out its
+scabbard, carefully examining the brilliant, narrow steel blade as he
+did so.
+
+"A little old-fashioned in style and make, Sir Percy," he said, closely
+imitating his opponent's easy demeanour, "a trifle heavier, perhaps,
+than we in France have been accustomed to lately, but, nevertheless, a
+beautifully tempered piece of steel."
+
+"Of a truth there's not much the matter with the tempering, Monsieur,"
+quoth Blakeney, "the blades were fashioned at Toledo just two hundred
+years ago."
+
+"Ah! here I see an inscription," said Chauvelin, holding the sword close
+to his eyes, the better to see the minute letters engraved in the steel.
+
+"The name of the original owner. I myself bought them--when I travelled
+in Italy--from one of his descendants."
+
+"Lorenzo Giovanni Cenci," said Chauvelin, spelling the Italian names
+quite slowly.
+
+"The greatest blackguard that ever trod this earth. You, no doubt,
+Monsieur, know his history better than we do. Rapine, theft, murder,
+nothing came amiss to Signor Lorenzo... neither the deadly drug in the
+cup nor the poisoned dagger."
+
+He had spoken lightly, carelessly, with that same tone of easy banter
+which he had not forsaken throughout the evening, and the same drawly
+manner which was habitual to him. But at these last words of his,
+Chauvelin gave a visible start, and then abruptly replaced the
+sword--which he had been examining--upon the table.
+
+He threw a quick, suspicious glance at Blakeney, who, leaning back
+against the chair and one knee resting on the cushioned seat, was
+idly toying with the other blade, the exact pair to the one which the
+ex-ambassador had so suddenly put down.
+
+"Well, Monsieur," quoth Sir Percy after a slight pause, and meeting
+with a swift glance of lazy irony his opponent's fixed gaze. "Are you
+satisfied with the weapons? Which of the two shall be yours, and which
+mine?"
+
+"Of a truth, Sir Percy..." murmured Chauvelin, still hesitating.
+
+"Nay, Monsieur," interrupted Blakeney with pleasant bonhomie, "I know
+what you would say... of a truth, there is no choice between this pair
+of perfect twins: one is as exquisite as the other.... And yet you must
+take one and I the other... this or that, whichever you prefer....
+You shall take it home with you to-night and practise thrusting at a
+haystack or at a bobbin, as you please... The sword is yours to command
+until you have used it against my unworthy person... yours until you
+bring it out four days hence--on the southern ramparts of Boulogne, when
+the cathedral bells chime the evening Angelus; then you shall cross
+it against its faithless twin.... There, Monsieur--they are of equal
+length... of equal strength and temper... a perfect pair... Yet I pray
+you choose."
+
+He took up both the swords in his hands and carefully balancing them by
+the extreme tip of their steel-bound scabbards, he held them out towards
+the Frenchman. Chauvelin's eyes were fixed upon him, and he from his
+towering height was looking down at the little sable-clad figure before
+him.
+
+The Terrorist seemed uncertain what to do. Though he was one of
+those men whom by the force of their intellect, the strength of their
+enthusiasm, the power of their cruelty, had built a new anarchical
+France, had overturned a throne and murdered a king, yet now, face to
+face with this affected <DW2>, this lazy and debonnair adventurer, he
+hesitated--trying in vain to read what was going on behind that low,
+smooth forehead or within the depth of those lazy, blue eyes.
+
+He would have given several years of his life at this moment for one
+short glimpse into the innermost brain cells of this daring mind, to see
+the man start, quiver but for the fraction of a second, betray himself
+by a tremor of the eyelid. What counterplan was lurking in Percy
+Blakeney's head, as he offered to his opponent the two swords which had
+once belonged to Lorenzo Cenci?
+
+Did any thought of foul play, of dark and deadly poisonings linger in
+the fastidious mind of this accomplished gentleman?
+
+Surely not!
+
+Chauvelin tried to chide himself for such fears. It seemed madness even
+to think of Italian poisons, of the Cencis or the Borgias in the midst
+of this brilliantly lighted English drawing-room.
+
+But because he was above all a diplomatist, a fencer with words and with
+looks, the envoy of France determined to know, to probe and to read. He
+forced himself once more to careless laughter and nonchalance of manner
+and schooled his lips to smile up with gentle irony at the good-humoured
+face of his arch-enemy.
+
+He tapped one of the swords with his long pointed finger.
+
+"Is this the one you choose, sir?" asked Blakeney.
+
+"Nay! which do you advise, Sir Percy," replied Chauvelin lightly. "Which
+of those two blades think you is most like to hold after two hundred
+years the poison of the Cenci?"
+
+But Blakeney neither started nor winced. He broke into a laugh, his own
+usual pleasant laugh, half shy and somewhat inane, then said in tones of
+lively astonishment:
+
+"Zounds! sir, but you are full of surprises.... Faith! I never would
+have thought of that....Marvellous, I call it... demmed marvellous....
+What say you, gentlemen?... Your Royal Highness, what think you?... Is
+not my engaging friend here of a most original turn of mind.... Will you
+have this sword or that, Monsieur?... Nay, I must insist--else we shall
+weary our friends if we hesitate too long.... This one then, sir, since
+you have chosen it," he continued, as Chauvelin finally took one of
+the swords in his hand. "And now for a bowl of punch.... Nay, Monsieur,
+'twas demmed smart what you said just now... I must insist on your
+joining us in a bowl.... Such wit as yours, Monsieur, must need whetting
+at times. ... I pray you repeat that same sally again..."
+
+Then finally turning to the Prince and to his friends, he added:
+
+"And after that bowl, gentlemen, shall we rejoin the ladies?"
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XIII: Reflections
+
+
+
+It seemed indeed as if the incident were finally closed, the chief
+actors in the drama having deliberately vacated the centre of the stage.
+
+The little crowd which had stood in a compact mass round the table,
+began to break up into sundry small groups: laughter and desultory talk,
+checked for a moment by that oppressive sense of unknown danger, which
+had weighed on the spirits of those present, once more became general.
+Blakeney's light-heartedness had put everyone into good-humour; since he
+evidently did not look upon the challenge as a matter of serious moment,
+why then, no one else had any cause for anxiety, and the younger men
+were right glad to join in that bowl of punch which their genial host
+had offered with so merry a grace.
+
+Lacqueys appeared, throwing open the doors. From a distance the sound of
+dance music once more broke upon the ear.
+
+A few of the men only remained silent, deliberately holding aloof from
+the renewed mirthfulness. Foremost amongst these was His Royal Highness,
+who was looking distinctly troubled, and who had taken Sir Percy by
+the arm, and was talking to him with obvious earnestness. Lord Anthony
+Dewhurst and Lord Hastings were holding converse in a secluded corner of
+the room, whilst Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, as being the host's most intimate
+friend, felt it incumbent on him to say a few words to ex-Ambassador
+Chauvelin.
+
+The latter was desirous of effecting a retreat. Blakeney's invitation to
+join in the friendly bowl of punch could not be taken seriously, and the
+Terrorist wanted to be alone, in order to think out the events of the
+past hour.
+
+A lacquey waited on him, took the momentous sword from his hand, found
+his hat and cloak and called his coach for him: Chauvelin having taken
+formal leave of his host and acquaintances, quickly worked his way to
+the staircase and hall, through the less frequented apartments.
+
+He sincerely wished to avoid meeting Lady Blakeney face to face. Not
+that the slightest twinge of remorse disturbed his mind, but he feared
+some impulsive action on her part, which indirectly might interfere with
+his future plans. Fortunately no one took much heed of the darkly-clad,
+insignificant little figure that glided so swiftly by, obviously
+determined to escape attention.
+
+In the hall he found Demoiselle Candeille waiting for him. She, too, had
+evidently been desirous of leaving Blakeney Manor as soon as possible.
+He saw her to her chaise; then escorted her as far as her lodgings,
+which were close by: there were still one or two things which he wished
+to discuss with her, one or two final instructions which he desired to
+give.
+
+One the whole, he was satisfied with his evening's work: the young
+actress had well supported him, and had played her part so far with
+marvellous sang-froid and skill. Sir Percy, whether willingly or
+blindly, had seemed only too ready to walk into the trap which was being
+set for him.
+
+This fact alone disturbed Chauvelin not a little, and as half an hour
+or so later, having taken final leave of his ally, he sat alone in the
+coach, which was conveying him back to town, the sword of Lorenzo Cenci
+close to his hand, he pondered very seriously over it.
+
+That the adventurous Scarlet Pimpernel should have guessed all along,
+that sooner or later the French Revolutionary Government--whom he had
+defrauded of some of its most important victims,--would desire to be
+even with him, and to bring him to the scaffold, was not to be wondered
+at. But that he should be so blind as to imagine that Chauvelin's
+challenge was anything else but a lure to induce him to go to France,
+could not possibly be supposed. So bold an adventurer, so keen an
+intriguer was sure to have scented the trap immediately, and if he
+appeared ready to fall into it, it was because there had already sprung
+up in his resourceful mind some bold coup or subtle counterplan, with
+which he hoped to gratify his own passionate love of sport, whilst once
+more bringing his enemies to discomfiture and humiliation.
+
+Undoubtedly Sir Percy Blakeney, as an accomplished gentleman of the
+period, could not very well under the circumstances which had been so
+carefully stage-managed and arranged by Chauvelin, refuse the latter's
+challenge to fight him on the other side of the Channel. Any hesitation
+on the part of the leader of that daring Scarlet Pimpernel League would
+have covered him with a faint suspicion of pusillanimity, and a subtle
+breath of ridicule, and in a moment the prestige of the unknown and
+elusive hero would have vanished forever.
+
+But apart from the necessity of the fight, Blakeney seemed to enter
+into the spirit of the plot directed against his own life, with such
+light-hearted merriment, such zest and joy, that Chauvelin could not
+help but be convinced that the capture of the Scarlet Pimpernel at
+Boulogne or elsewhere would not prove quite so easy a matter as he had
+at first anticipated.
+
+That same night he wrote a long and circumstantial letter to his
+colleague, Citizen Robespierre, shifting thereby, as it were, some of
+the responsibility of coming events from his own shoulders on to the
+executive of the Committee of Public Safety.
+
+"I guarantee to you, Citizen Robespierre," he wrote, "and to the members
+of the Revolutionary Government who have entrusted me with the delicate
+mission, that four days from this date at one hour after sunset, the man
+who goes by the mysterious name of the Scarlet Pimpernel, will be on the
+ramparts of Boulogne on the south side of the town. I have done what has
+been asked of me. On that day and at that hour, I shall have brought
+the enemy of the Revolution, the intriguer against the policy of the
+republic, within the power of the government which he has flouted and
+outraged. Now look to it, citizens all, that the fruits of my diplomacy
+and of my skill be not lost to France again. The man will be there at my
+bidding, 'tis for you to see that he does not escape this time."
+
+This letter he sent by special courier which the National Convention
+had placed at his disposal in case of emergency. Having sealed it and
+entrusted it to the man, Chauvelin felt at peace with the world and with
+himself. Although he was not so sure of success as he would have wished,
+he yet could not see _how_ failure could possibly come about: and the
+only regret which he felt to-night, when he finally in the early dawn
+sought a few hours' troubled rest, was that that momentous fourth day
+was still so very far distant.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XIV: The Ruling Passion
+
+
+
+In the meanwhile silence had fallen over the beautiful old manorial
+house. One by one the guests had departed, leaving that peaceful sense
+of complete calm and isolation which follows the noisy chatter of any
+great throng bent chiefly on enjoyment.
+
+The evening had been universally acknowledged to have been brilliantly
+successful. True, the much talked of French artiste had not sung the
+promised ditties, but in the midst of the whirl and excitement of
+dances, of the inspiring tunes of the string band, the elaborate supper
+and recherche wines, no one had paid much heed to this change in the
+programme of entertainments.
+
+And everyone had agreed that never had Lady Blakeney looked more
+radiantly beautiful than on this night. She seemed absolutely
+indefatigable; a perfect hostess, full of charming little attentions
+towards every one, although more than ordinarily absorbed by her duties
+towards her many royal guests.
+
+The dramatic incidents which had taken place in the small boudoir had
+not been much bruited abroad. It was always considered bad form in
+those courtly days to discuss men's quarrels before ladies, and in this
+instance, those who were present when it all occurred instinctively felt
+that their discretion would be appreciated in high circles, and held
+their tongues accordingly.
+
+Thus the brilliant evening was brought to a happy conclusion without a
+single cloud to mar the enjoyment of the guests. Marguerite performed a
+veritable miracle of fortitude, forcing her very smiles to seem natural
+and gay, chatting pleasantly, even wittily, upon every known fashionable
+topic of the day, laughing merrily the while her poor, aching heart was
+filled with unspeakable misery.
+
+Now, when everybody had gone, when the last of her guests had bobbed
+before her the prescribed curtsey, to which she had invariably responded
+with the same air of easy self-possession, now at last she felt free to
+give rein to her thoughts, to indulge in the luxury of looking her own
+anxiety straight in the face and to let the tension of her nerves relax.
+
+Sir Andrew Ffoulkes had been the last to leave and Percy had strolled
+out with him as far as the garden gate, for Lady Ffoulkes had left in
+her chaise some time ago, and Sir Andrew meant to walk to his home, not
+many yards distant from Blakeney Manor.
+
+In spite of herself Marguerite felt her heartstrings tighten as she
+thought of this young couple so lately wedded. People smiled a
+little when Sir Andrew Ffoulkes' name was mentioned, some called him
+effeminate, others uxorious, his fond attachment for his pretty little
+wife was thought to pass the bounds of decorum. There was no doubt that
+since his marriage the young man had greatly changed. His love of sport
+and adventure seemed to have died out completely, yielding evidently to
+the great, more overpowering love, that for his young wife.
+
+Suzanne was nervous for her husband's safety. She had sufficient
+influence over him to keep him at home, when other members of the brave
+little League of The Scarlet Pimpernel followed their leader with mad
+zest, on some bold adventure.
+
+Marguerite too at first had smiled in kindly derision when Suzanne
+Ffoulkes, her large eyes filled with tears, had used her wiles to keep
+Sir Andrew tied to her own dainty apronstrings. But somehow, lately,
+with that gentle contempt which she felt for the weaker man, there had
+mingled a half-acknowledged sense of envy.
+
+How different 'twixt her and her husband.
+
+Percy loved her truly and with a depth of passion proportionate to his
+own curious dual personality: it were sacrilege, almost, to doubt the
+intensity of his love. But nevertheless she had at all times a feeling
+as if he were holding himself and his emotions in check, as if his love,
+as if she, Marguerite, his wife, were but secondary matters in his life;
+as if her anxieties, her sorrow when he left her, her fears for his
+safety were but small episodes in the great book of life which he had
+planned out and conceived for himself.
+
+Then she would hate herself for such thoughts: they seemed like doubts
+of him. Did any man ever love a woman, she asked herself, as Percy loved
+her? He was difficult to understand, and perhaps--oh! that was an awful
+"perhaps"--perhaps there lurked somewhere in his mind a slight mistrust
+of her. She had betrayed him once! unwittingly 'tis true! did he fear
+she might do so again?
+
+And to-night after her guests had gone she threw open the great windows
+that gave on the beautiful terrace, with its marble steps leading down
+to the cool river beyond. Everything now seemed so peaceful and still;
+the scent of the heliotrope made the midnight air swoon with its
+intoxicating fragrance: the rhythmic murmur of the waters came gently
+echoing from below, and from far away there came the melancholy cry of a
+night-bird on the prowl.
+
+That cry made Marguerite shudder: her thoughts flew back to the
+episodes of this night and to Chauvelin, the dark bird of prey with his
+mysterious death-dealing plans, his subtle intrigues which all tended
+towards the destruction of one man: his enemy, the husband whom
+Marguerite loved.
+
+Oh! how she hated these wild adventures which took Percy away from her
+side. Is not a woman who loves--be it husband or child--the most truly
+selfish, the most cruelly callous creature in the world, there, where
+the safety and the well-being of the loved one is in direct conflict
+with the safety and well-being of others.
+
+She would right gladly have closed her eyes to every horror perpetrated
+in France, she would not have known what went on in Paris, she wanted
+her husband! And yet month after month, with but short intervals, she
+saw him risk that precious life of his, which was the very essence of
+her own soul, for others! for others! always for others!
+
+And she! she! Marguerite, his wife, was powerless to hold him back!
+powerless to keep him beside her, when that mad fit of passion seized
+him to go on one of those wild quests, wherefrom she always feared he
+could not return alive: and this, although she might use every noble
+artifice, every tender wile of which a loving and beautiful wife is
+capable.
+
+At times like those her own proud heart was filled with hatred and with
+envy towards everything that took him away from her: and to-night all
+these passionate feelings which she felt were quite unworthy of her and
+of him seemed to surge within her soul more tumultuously than ever. She
+was longing to throw herself in his arms, to pour out into his loving
+ear all that she suffered, in fear and anxiety, and to make one more
+appeal to his tenderness and to that passion which had so often made him
+forget the world at her feet.
+
+And so instinctively she walked along the terrace towards that more
+secluded part of the garden just above the river bank, where she had
+so oft wandered hand in hand with him, in the honeymoon of their
+love. There great clumps of old-fashioned cabbage roses grew in untidy
+splendour, and belated lilies sent intoxicating odours into the air,
+whilst the heavy masses of Egyptian and Michaelmas daisies looked like
+ghostly constellations in the gloom.
+
+She thought Percy must soon be coming this way. Though it was so late,
+she knew that he would not go to bed. After the events of the night, his
+ruling passion, strong in death, would be holding him in its thrall.
+
+She too felt wide awake and unconscious of fatigue; when she reached
+the secluded path beside the river, she peered eagerly up and down, and
+listened for a sound.
+
+Presently it seemed to her that above the gentle clapper of the waters
+she could hear a rustle and the scrunching of the fine gravel under
+carefully measured footsteps. She waited a while. The footsteps seemed
+to draw nearer, and soon, although the starlit night was very dark, she
+perceived a cloaked and hooded figure approaching cautiously toward her.
+
+"Who goes there?" she called suddenly.
+
+The figure paused: then came rapidly forward, and a voice said timidly:
+
+"Ah! Lady Blakeney!"
+
+"Who are you?" asked Marguerite peremptorily.
+
+"It is I... Desiree Candeille," replied the midnight prowler.
+
+"Demoiselle Candeille!" ejaculated Marguerite, wholly taken by surprise.
+"What are you doing here? alone? and at this hour?"
+
+"Sh-sh-sh..." whispered Candeille eagerly, as she approached quite close
+to Marguerite and drew her hood still lower over her eyes. "I am all
+alone ... I wanted to see someone--you if possible, Lady Blakeney... for
+I could not rest... I wanted to know what had happened."
+
+"What had happened? When? I don't understand."
+
+"What happened between Citizen Chauvelin and your husband?" asked
+Candeille.
+
+"What is that to you?" replied Marguerite haughtily.
+
+"I pray you do not misunderstand me..." pleaded Candeille eagerly. "I
+know my presence in your house... the quarrel which I provoked must have
+filled your heart with hatred and suspicion towards me... but oh! how
+can I persuade you?... I acted unwillingly... will you not believe
+me?... I was that man's tool... and... Oh God!" she added with sudden,
+wild vehemence, "if only you could know what tyranny that accursed
+government of France exercises over poor helpless women or men who
+happen to have fallen within reach of its relentless clutches..."
+
+Her voice broke down in a sob. Marguerite hardly knew what to say or
+think. She had always mistrusted this woman with her theatrical ways and
+stagy airs, from the very first moment she saw her in the tent on the
+green: and she did not wish to run counter against her instinct, in
+anything pertaining to the present crisis. And yet in spite of her
+mistrust the actress' vehement words found an echo in the depths of her
+own heart. How well she knew that tyranny of which Candeille spoke with
+such bitterness! Had she not suffered from it, endured terrible sorrow
+and humiliation, when under the ban of that same appalling tyranny
+she had betrayed the identity--then unknown to her--of the Scarlet
+Pimpernel?
+
+Therefore when Candeille paused after those last excited words, she said
+with more gentleness than she had shown hitherto, though still quite
+coldly:
+
+"But you have not yet told me why you came back here to-night? If
+Citizen Chauvelin was your taskmaster, then you must know all that has
+occurred."
+
+"I had a vague hope that I might see you."
+
+"For what purpose?"
+
+"To warn you if I could."
+
+"I need no warning."
+
+"Or are too proud to take one.... Do you know, Lady Blakeney, that
+Citizen Chauvelin has a personal hatred against your husband?"
+
+"How do you know that?" asked Marguerite, with her suspicions once more
+on the qui-vive. She could not understand Candeille's attitude. This
+midnight visit, the vehemence of her language, the strange mixture of
+knowledge and ignorance which she displayed. What did this woman know of
+Chauvelin's secret plans? Was she his open ally, or his helpless tool?
+And was she even now playing a part taught her or commanded her by that
+prince of intriguers?
+
+Candeille, however, seemed quite unaware of the spirit of antagonism
+and mistrust which Marguerite took but little pains now to disguise. She
+clasped her hands together, and her voice shook with the earnestness of
+her entreaty.
+
+"Oh!" she said eagerly, "have I not seen that look of hatred in
+Chauvelin's cruel eyes?... He hates your husband, I tell you.... Why I
+know not... but he hates him.. and means that great harm shall come to
+Sir Percy through this absurd duel.... Oh! Lady Blakeney, do not let him
+go... I entreat you, do not let him go!"
+
+But Marguerite proudly drew back a step or two, away from the reach of
+those hands, stretched out towards her in such vehement appeal.
+
+"You are overwrought, Mademoiselle," she said coldly. "Believe me, I
+have no need either of your entreaties or of your warning.... I should
+like you to think that I have no wish to be ungrateful... that I
+appreciate any kind thought you may have harboured for me in your
+mind.... But beyond that... please forgive me if I say it somewhat
+crudely--I do not feel that the matter concerns you in the least.... The
+hour is late," she added more gently, as if desiring to attenuate the
+harshness of her last words. "Shall I send my maid to escort you home?
+She is devoted and discreet..."
+
+"Nay!" retorted the other in tones of quiet sadness, "there is no need
+of discretion... I am not ashamed of my visit to you to-night.... You
+are very proud, and for your sake I will pray to God that sorrow and
+humiliation may not come to you, as I feared.... We are never likely
+to meet again, Lady Blakeney... you will not wish it, and I shall have
+passed out of your life as swiftly as I had entered into it.... But
+there was another thought lurking in my mind when I came to-night....
+In case Sir Percy goes to France... the duel is to take place in or near
+Boulogne... this much I do know... would you not wish to go with him?"
+
+"Truly, Mademoiselle, I must repeat to you..."
+
+"That 'tis no concern of mine... I know... I own that.... But, you see
+when I came back here to-night in the silence and the darkness--I had
+not guessed that you would be so proud... I thought that I, a woman,
+would know how to touch your womanly heart.... I was clumsy, I
+suppose.... I made so sure that you would wish to go with your husband,
+in case... in case he insisted on running his head into the noose, which
+I feel sure Chauvelin has prepared for him.... I myself start for France
+shortly. Citizen Chauvelin has provided me with the necessary passport
+for myself and my maid, who was to have accompanied me.... Then, just
+now, when I was all alone... and thought over all the mischief which
+that fiend had forced me to do for him, it seemed to me that perhaps..."
+
+She broke off abruptly, and tried to read the other woman's face in
+the gloom. But Marguerite, who was taller than the Frenchwoman, was
+standing, very stiff and erect, giving the young actress neither
+discouragement nor confidence. She did not interrupt Candeille's long
+and voluble explanation: vaguely she wondered what it was all about,
+and even now when the Frenchwoman paused, Marguerite said nothing, but
+watched her quietly as she took a folded paper from the capacious pocked
+of her cloak and then held it out with a look of timidity towards Lady
+Blakeney.
+
+"My maid need not come with me," said Desiree Candeille humbly. "I would
+far rather travel alone... this is her passport and... Oh! you need not
+take it out of my hand," she added in tones of bitter self-deprecation,
+as Marguerite made no sign of taking the paper from her. "See! I will
+leave it here among the roses!... You mistrust me now... it is only
+natural... presently, perhaps, calmer reflection will come... you will
+see that my purpose now is selfless... that I only wish to serve you and
+him."
+
+She stooped and placed the folded paper in the midst of a great clump of
+centifolium roses, and then without another word she turned and went her
+way. For a few moments, whilst Marguerite still stood there, puzzled and
+vaguely moved, she could hear the gentle frou-frou of the other woman's
+skirts against the soft sand of the path, and then a long-drawn sigh
+that sounded like a sob.
+
+Then all was still again. The gentle midnight breeze caressed the tops
+of the ancient oaks and elms behind her, drawing murmurs from their
+dying leaves like unto the whisperings of ghosts.
+
+Marguerite shuddered with a slight sense of cold. Before her, amongst
+the dark clump of leaves and the roses, invisible in the gloom, there
+fluttered with a curious, melancholy flapping, the folded paper placed
+there by Candeille. She watched it for awhile, as, disturbed by the
+wind, it seemed ready to take its flight towards the river. Anon it fell
+to the ground, and Marguerite with sudden overpowering impulse, stooped
+and picked it up. Then clutching it nervously in her hand, she walked
+rapidly back towards the house.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XV: Farewell
+
+
+
+As she neared the terrace, she became conscious of several forms moving
+about at the foot of the steps, some few feet below where she was
+standing. Soon she saw the glimmer of lanthorns, heard whispering
+voices, and the lapping of the water against the side of a boat.
+
+Anon a figure, laden with cloaks and sundry packages, passed down the
+steps close beside her. Even in the darkness Marguerite recognized
+Benyon, her husband's confidential valet. Without a moment's hesitation,
+she flew along the terrace towards the wing of the house occupied by Sir
+Percy. She had not gone far before she discerned his tall figure walking
+leisurely along the path which here skirted part of the house.
+
+He had on his large caped coat, which was thrown open in front,
+displaying a grey travelling suit of fine cloth; his hands were as
+usual buried in the pockets of his breeches, and on his head he wore the
+folding chapeau-bras which he habitually affected.
+
+Before she had time to think, or to realize that he was going, before
+she could utter one single word, she was in his arms, clinging to him
+with passionate intensity, trying in the gloom to catch every expression
+of his eyes, every quiver of the face now bent down so close to her.
+
+"Percy, you cannot go... you cannot go!..." she pleaded.
+
+She had felt his strong arms closing round her, his lips seeking hers,
+her eyes, her hair, her clinging hands, which dragged at his shoulders
+in a wild agony of despair.
+
+"If you really loved me, Percy," she murmured, "you would not go, you
+would not go..."
+
+He would not trust himself to speak; it well-nigh seemed as if his
+sinews cracked with the violent effort at self-control. Oh! how she
+loved him, when she felt in him the passionate lover, the wild, untamed
+creature that he was at heart, on whom the frigid courtliness of manner
+sat but as a thin veneer. This was his own real personality, and there
+was little now of the elegant and accomplished gentleman of fashion,
+schooled to hold every emotion in check, to hide every thought, every
+desire save that for amusement or for display.
+
+She--feeling her power and his weakness now--gave herself wholly to his
+embrace, not grudging one single, passionate caress, yielding her lips
+to him, the while she murmured:
+
+"You cannot go... you cannot... why should you go?... It is madness to
+leave me... I cannot let you go..."
+
+Her arms clung tenderly round him, her voice was warm and faintly shaken
+with suppressed tears, and as he wildly murmured: "Don't! for pity's
+sake!" she almost felt that her love would be triumphant.
+
+"For pity's sake, I'll go on pleading, Percy!" she whispered. "Oh! my
+love, my dear! do not leave me!... we have scarce had time to savour our
+happiness.. we have such arrears of joy to make up.... Do not go,
+Percy... there's so much I want to say to you.... Nay! you shall not!
+you shall not!" she added with sudden vehemence. "Look me straight in
+the eyes, my dear, and tell me if you can leave now?"
+
+He did not reply, but, almost roughly, he placed his hand over her
+tear-dimmed eyes, which were turned up to his, in an agony of tender
+appeal. Thus he blindfolded her with that wild caress. She should
+not see--no, not even she!--that for the space of a few seconds stern
+manhood was well-nigh vanquished by the magic of her love.
+
+All that was most human in him, all that was weak in this strong and
+untamed nature, cried aloud for peace and luxury and idleness: for long
+summer afternoons spent in lazy content, for the companionship of horses
+and dogs and of flowers, with no thought or cares save those for the
+next evening's gavotte, no graver occupation save that of sitting at HER
+feet.
+
+And during these few seconds, whilst his hand lay across her eyes, the
+lazy, idle <DW2> of fashionable London was fighting a hand-to-hand fight
+with the bold leader of a band of adventurers: and his own passionate
+love for his wife ranged itself with fervent intensity on the side of
+his weaker self. Forgotten were the horrors of the guillotine, the
+calls of the innocent, the appeal of the helpless; forgotten the daring
+adventures, the excitements, the hair's-breadth escapes; for those few
+seconds, heavenly in themselves, he only remembered her--his wife--her
+beauty and her tender appeal to him.
+
+She would have pleaded again, for she felt that she was winning in this
+fight: her instinct--that unerring instinct of the woman who loves and
+feels herself beloved--told her that for the space of an infinitesimal
+fraction of time, his iron will was inclined to bend; but he checked her
+pleading with a kiss.
+
+Then there came a change.
+
+Like a gigantic wave carried inwards by the tide, his turbulent emotion
+seemed suddenly to shatter itself against a rock of self-control. Was
+it a call from the boatmen below? a distant scrunching of feet upon the
+gravel?--who knows, perhaps only a sigh in the midnight air, a ghostly
+summons from the land of dreams that recalled him to himself.
+
+Even as Marguerite was still clinging to him, with the ardent fervour of
+her own passion, she felt the rigid tension of his arms relax, the power
+of his embrace weaken, the wild love-light become dim in his eyes.
+
+He kissed her fondly, tenderly, and with infinite gentleness smoothed
+away the little damp curls from her brow. There was a wistfulness now in
+his caress, and in his kiss there was the finality of a long farewell.
+
+"'Tis time I went," he said, "or we shall miss the tide."
+
+These were the first coherent words he had spoken since first she
+had met him here in this lonely part of the garden, and his voice
+was perfectly steady, conventional and cold. An icy pang shot through
+Marguerite's heart. It was as if she had been abruptly wakened from a
+beautiful dream.
+
+"You are not going, Percy!" she murmured, and her own voice now sounded
+hollow and forced. "Oh! if you loved me you would not go!"
+
+"If I love you!"
+
+Nay! in this at least there was no dream! no coldness in his voice when
+he repeated those words with such a sigh of tenderness, such a world of
+longing, that the bitterness of her great pain vanished, giving place to
+tears. He took her hand in his. The passion was momentarily conquered,
+forced within his innermost soul, by his own alter ego, that second
+personality in him, the cold-blooded and coolly-calculating adventurer
+who juggled with his life and tossed it recklessly upon the sea of
+chance 'twixt a doggerel and a smile. But the tender love lingered on,
+fighting the enemy a while longer, the wistful desire was there for her
+kiss, the tired longing for the exquisite repose of her embrace.
+
+He took her hand in his, and bent his lips to it, and with the warmth of
+his kiss upon it, she felt a moisture like a tear.
+
+"I must go, dear," he said, after a little while.
+
+"Why? Why?" she repeated obstinately. "Am I nothing then? Is my life
+of no account? My sorrows? My fears? My misery? Oh!" she added with
+vehement bitterness, "why should it always be others? What are others
+to you and to me, Percy?... Are we not happy here?... Have you not
+fulfilled to its uttermost that self-imposed duty to people who can be
+nothing to us?... Is not your life ten thousand times more precious to
+me than the lives of ten thousand others?"
+
+Even through the darkness, and because his face was so close to hers,
+she could see a quaint little smile playing round the corners of his
+mouth.
+
+"Nay, m'dear," he said gently, "'tis not ten thousand lives that call to
+me to-day... only one at best.... Don't you hate to think of that poor
+little old cure sitting in the midst of his ruined pride and hopes:
+the jewels so confidently entrusted to his care, stolen from him, he
+waiting, perhaps, in his little presbytery for the day when those brutes
+will march him to prison and to death.... Nay! I think a little sea
+voyage and English country air would suit the Abbe Foucquet, m'dear, and
+I only mean to ask him to cross the Channel with me!..."
+
+"Percy!" she pleaded.
+
+"Oh! I know! I know!" he rejoined with that short deprecatory sigh of
+his, which seemed always to close any discussion between them on that
+point, "you are thinking of that absurd duel..." He laughed lightly,
+good-humouredly, and his eyes gleamed with merriment.
+
+"La, m'dear!" he said gaily, "will you not reflect a moment? Could
+I refuse the challenge before His Royal Highness and the ladies? I
+couldn't. ... Faith! that was it.... Just a case of couldn't.... Fate
+did it all... the quarrel... my interference... the challenge.... HE had
+planned it all of course.... Let us own that he is a brave man, seeing
+that he and I are not even yet, for that beating he gave me on the
+Calais cliffs."
+
+"Yes! he has planned it all," she retorted vehemently. "The quarrel
+to-night, your journey to France, your meeting with him face to face at
+a given hour and place where he can most readily, most easily close the
+death-trap upon you."
+
+This time he broke into a laugh. A good, hearty laugh, full of the joy
+of living, of the madness and intoxication of a bold adventure, a laugh
+that had not one particle of anxiety or of tremor in it.
+
+"Nay! m'dear!" he said, "but your ladyship is astonishing.... Close a
+death-trap upon your humble servant?... Nay! the governing citizens
+of France will have to be very active and mighty wide-awake ere they
+succeed in stealing a march on me.... Zounds! but we'll give them an
+exciting chase this time.... Nay! little woman, do not fear!" he said
+with sudden infinite gentleness, "those demmed murderers have not got me
+yet."
+
+Oh! how often she had fought with him thus: with him, the adventurer,
+the part of his dual nature that was her bitter enemy, and which took
+him, the lover, away from her side. She knew so well the finality of
+it all, the amazing hold which that unconquerable desire for these mad
+adventures had upon him. Impulsive, ardent as she was, Marguerite
+felt in her very soul an overwhelming fury against herself for her
+own weakness, her own powerlessness in the face of that which forever
+threatened to ruin her life and her happiness.
+
+Yes! and his also! for he loved her! he loved her! he loved her! the
+thought went on hammering in her mind, for she knew of its great truth!
+He loved her and went away! And she, poor, puny weakling, was unable to
+hold him back; the tendrils which fastened his soul to hers were not
+so tenacious as those which made him cling to suffering humanity, over
+there in France, where men and women were in fear of death and torture,
+and looked upon the elusive and mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel as a
+heaven-born hero sent to save them from their doom. To them at these
+times his very heartstrings seemed to turn with unconquerable force, and
+when, with all the ardour of her own passion, she tried to play upon
+the cords of his love for her, he could not respond, for they--the
+strangers--had the stronger claim.
+
+And yet through it all she knew that this love of humanity, this mad
+desire to serve and to help, in no way detracted from his love for her.
+Nay, it intensified it, made it purer and better, adding to the joy of
+perfect intercourse the poetic and subtle fragrance of ever-recurring
+pain.
+
+But now at last she felt weary of the fight: her heart was aching,
+bruised and sore. An infinite fatigue seemed to weigh like lead upon
+her very soul. This seemed so different to any other parting, that had
+perforce been during the past year. The presence of Chauvelin in her
+house, the obvious planning of this departure for France, had filled
+her with a foreboding, nay, almost a certitude of a gigantic and deadly
+cataclysm.
+
+Her senses began to reel; she seemed not to see anything very
+distinctly: even the loved form took on a strange and ghostlike shape.
+He now looked preternaturally tall, and there was a mist between her and
+him.
+
+She thought that he spoke to her again, but she was not quite sure,
+for his voice sounded like some weird and mysterious echo. A bosquet
+of climbing heliotrope close by threw a fragrance into the evening air,
+which turned her giddy with its overpowering sweetness.
+
+She closed her eyes, for she felt as if she must die, if she held them
+open any longer; and as she closed them it seemed to her as if he folded
+her in one last, long, heavenly embrace.
+
+He felt her graceful figure swaying in his arms like a tall and slender
+lily bending to the wind. He saw that she was but half-conscious, and
+thanked heaven for this kindly solace to his heart-breaking farewell.
+
+There was a sloping, mossy bank close by, there where the marble terrace
+yielded to the encroaching shrubbery: a tangle of pale pink monthly
+roses made a bower overhead. She was just sufficiently conscious to
+enable him to lead her to this soft green couch. There he laid her
+amongst the roses, kissed the dear, tired eyes, her hands, her lips, her
+tiny feet, and went.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XVI: The Passport
+
+
+
+The rhythmic clapper of oars roused Marguerite from this trance-like
+swoon.
+
+In a moment she was on her feet, all her fatigue gone, her numbness
+of soul and body vanished as in a flash. She was fully conscious now!
+conscious that he had gone! that according to every probability under
+heaven and every machination concocted in hell, he would never return
+from France alive, and that she had failed to hear the last words which
+he spoke to her, had failed to glean his last look or to savour his
+final kiss.
+
+Though the night was starlit and balmy it was singularly dark, and
+vainly did Marguerite strain her eyes to catch sight of that boat which
+was bearing him away so swiftly now: she strained her ears, vaguely
+hoping to catch one last, lingering echo of his voice. But all was
+silence, save that monotonous clapper, which seemed to beat against her
+heart like a rhythmic knell of death.
+
+She could hear the oars distinctly: there were six or eight, she
+thought: certainly no fewer. Eight oarsmen probably, which meant the
+larger boat, and undoubtedly the longer journey... not to London only
+with a view to posting to Dover, but to Tilbury Fort, where the "Day
+Dream" would be in readiness to start with a favourable tide.
+
+Thought was returning to her, slowly and coherently: the pain of the
+last farewell was still there, bruising her very senses with its dull
+and heavy weight, but it had become numb and dead, leaving her,
+herself, her heart and soul, stunned and apathetic, whilst her brain was
+gradually resuming its activity.
+
+And the more she thought it over, the more certain she grew that her
+husband was going as far as Tilbury by river and would embark on the
+"Day Dream" there. Of course he would go to Boulogne at once. The duel
+was to take place there, Candeille had told her that... adding that she
+thought she, Marguerite, would wish to go with him.
+
+To go with him!
+
+Heavens above! was not that the only real, tangible thought in that
+whirling chaos which was raging in her mind?
+
+To go with him! Surely there must be some means of reaching him yet!
+Fate, Nature, God Himself would never permit so monstrous a thing as
+this: that she should be parted from her husband, now when his life was
+not only in danger, but forfeited already... lost... a precious thing
+all but gone from this world.
+
+Percy was going to Boulogne... she must go too. By posting at once to
+Dover, she could get the tidal boat on the morrow and reach the French
+coast quite as soon as the "Day Dream." Once at Boulogne, she would have
+no difficulty in finding her husband, of that she felt sure. She would
+have but to dog Chauvelin's footsteps, find out something of his plans,
+of the orders he gave to troops or to spies,--oh! she would find him! of
+that she was never for a moment in doubt!
+
+How well she remembered her journey to Calais just a year ago, in
+company with Sir Andrew Ffoulkes! Chance had favoured her then, had
+enabled her to be of service to her husband if only by distracting
+Chauvelin's attention for awhile to herself. Heaven knows! she had but
+little hope of being of use to him now: an aching sense was in her that
+fate had at last been too strong! that the daring adventurer had staked
+once too often, had cast the die and had lost.
+
+In the bosom of her dress she felt the sharp edge of the paper left for
+her by Desiree Candeille among the roses in the park. She had picked it
+up almost mechanically then, and tucked it away, hardly heeding what she
+was doing. Whatever the motive of the French actress had been in placing
+the passport at her disposal, Marguerite blessed her in her heart for
+it. To the woman she had mistrusted, she would owe the last supreme
+happiness of her life.
+
+Her resolution never once wavered. Percy would not take her with him:
+that was understandable. She could neither expect it nor think it. But
+she, on the other hand, could not stay in England, at Blakeney Manor,
+whilst any day, any hour, the death-trap set by Chauvelin for the
+Scarlet Pimpernel might be closing upon the man whom she worshipped. She
+would go mad if she stayed. As there could be no chance of escape for
+Percy now, as he had agreed to meet his deadly enemy face to face at a
+given place, and a given hour, she could not be a hindrance to him: and
+she knew enough subterfuge, enough machinations and disguises by now, to
+escape Chauvelin's observation, unless... unless Percy wanted her, and
+then she would be there.
+
+No! she could not be a hindrance. She had a passport in her pocket,
+everything en regle, nobody could harm her, and she could come and go as
+she pleased. There were plenty of swift horses in the stables, plenty of
+devoted servants to do her bidding quickly and discreetly: moreover, at
+moments like these, conventionalities and the possible conjectures
+and surmises of others became of infinitesimally small importance.
+The household of Blakeney Manor were accustomed to the master's sudden
+journeys and absences of several days, presumably on some shooting
+or other sporting expeditions, with no one in attendance on him, save
+Benyon, his favourite valet. These passed without any comments now! Bah!
+let everyone marvel for once at her ladyship's sudden desire to go to
+Dover, and let it all be a nine days' wonder; she certainly did not
+care. Skirting the house, she reached the stables beyond. One or two
+men were astir. To these she gave the necessary orders for her coach and
+four, then she found her way back to the house.
+
+Walking along the corridor, she went past the room occupied by Juliette
+de Marny. For a moment she hesitated, then she turned and knocked at the
+door.
+
+Juliette was not yet in bed, for she went to the door herself and opened
+it. Obviously she had been quite unable to rest, her hair was falling
+loosely over her shoulders, and there was a look of grave anxiety on her
+young face.
+
+"Juliette," said Marguerite in a hurried whisper, the moment she had
+closed the door behind her and she and the young girl were alone, "I am
+going to France to be near my husband. He has gone to meet that fiend in
+a duel which is nothing but a trap, set to capture him, and lead him
+to his death. I want you to be of help to me, here in my house, in my
+absence."
+
+"I would give my life for you, Lady Blakeney," said Juliette simply, "is
+it not HIS since he saved it?"
+
+"It is only a little presence of mind, a little coolness and patience,
+which I will ask of you, dear," said Marguerite. "You of course know
+who your rescuer was, therefore you will understand my fears. Until
+to-night, I had vague doubts as to how much Chauvelin really knew,
+but now these doubts have naturally vanished. He and the French
+Revolutionary Government know that the Scarlet Pimpernel and Percy
+Blakeney are one and the same. The whole scene to-night was prearranged:
+you and I and all the spectators, and that woman Candeille--we were all
+puppets piping to that devil's tune. The duel, too, was prearranged!...
+that woman wearing your mother's jewels!... Had you not provoked her, a
+quarrel between her and me, or one of my guests would have been forced
+somehow... I wanted to tell you this, lest you should fret, and think
+that you were in any way responsible for what has happened.... You were
+not.... He had arranged it all.... You were only the tool... just as I
+was. ... You must understand and believe that.... Percy would hate
+to think that you felt yourself to blame... you are not that, in any
+way.... The challenge was bound to come.... Chauvelin had arranged that
+it should come, and if you had failed him as a tool, he soon would have
+found another! Do you believe that?"
+
+"I believe that you are an angel of goodness, Lady Blakeney," replied
+Juliette, struggling with her tears, "and that you are the only woman in
+the world worthy to be his wife."
+
+"But," insisted Marguerite firmly, as the young girl took her cold hand
+in her own, and gently fondling it, covered it with grateful kisses,
+"but if... if anything happens... anon... you will believe firmly that
+you were in no way responsible?... that you were innocent.. and merely a
+blind tool?..."
+
+"God bless you for that!"
+
+"You will believe it?"
+
+"I will."
+
+"And now for my request," rejoined Lady Blakeney in a more quiet, more
+matter-of-fact tone of voice. "You must represent me, here, when I am
+gone: explain as casually and as naturally as you can, that I have
+gone to join my husband on his yacht for a few days. Lucie, my maid, is
+devoted and a tower of secrecy; she will stand between you and the rest
+of the household, in concocting some plausible story. To every friend
+who calls, to anyone of our world whom you may meet, you must tell the
+same tale, and if you note an air of incredulity in anyone, if you hear
+whispers of there being some mystery, well! let the world wag its busy
+tongue--I care less than naught: it will soon tire of me and my doings,
+and having torn my reputation to shreds will quickly leave me in peace.
+But to Sir Andrew Ffoulkes," she added earnestly, "tell the whole truth
+from me. He will understand and do as he thinks right."
+
+"I will do all you ask, Lady Blakeney, and am proud to think that I
+shall be serving you, even in so humble and easy a capacity. When do you
+start?"
+
+"At once. Good-bye, Juliette."
+
+She bent down to the young girl and kissed her tenderly on the forehead,
+then she glided out of the room as rapidly as she had come. Juliette, of
+course, did not try to detain her, or to force her help of companionship
+on her when obviously she would wish to be alone.
+
+Marguerite quickly reached her room. Her maid Lucie was already waiting
+for her. Devoted and silent as she was, one glance at her mistress' face
+told her that trouble--grave and imminent--had reached Blakeney Manor.
+
+Marguerite, whilst Lucie undressed her, took up the passport and
+carefully perused the personal description of one, Celine Dumont, maid
+to Citizeness Desiree Candeille, which was given therein: tall, blue
+eyes, light hair, age about twenty-five. It all might have been vaguely
+meant for her. She had a dark cloth gown, and long black cloak with hood
+to come well over the head. These she now donned, with some thick shoes,
+and a dark- handkerchief tied over her head under the hood, so
+as to hide the golden glory of her hair.
+
+She was quite calm and in no haste. She made Lucie pack a small hand
+valise with some necessaries for the journey, and provided herself
+plentifully with money--French and English notes--which she tucked well
+away inside her dress.
+
+Then she bade her maid, who was struggling with her tears, a kindly
+farewell, and quickly went down to her coach.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XVII: Boulogne
+
+
+
+During the journey Marguerite had not much leisure to think. The
+discomforts and petty miseries incidental on cheap travelling had
+the very welcome effect of making her forget, for the time being, the
+soul-rendering crisis through which she was now passing.
+
+For, of necessity, she had to travel at the cheap rate, among the crowd
+of poorer passengers who were herded aft the packet boat, leaning up
+against one another, sitting on bundles and packages of all kinds; that
+part of the deck, reeking with the smell of tar and sea-water, damp,
+squally and stuffy, was an abomination of hideous discomfort to
+the dainty, fastidious lady of fashion, yet she almost welcomed the
+intolerable propinquity, the cold douches of salt water, which every now
+and then wetted her through and through, for it was the consequent
+sense of physical wretchedness that helped her to forget the intolerable
+anguish of her mind.
+
+And among these poorer travellers she felt secure from observation. No
+one took much notice of her. She looked just like one of the herd, and
+in the huddled-up little figure, in the dark bedraggled clothes, no
+one would for a moment have recognized the dazzling personality of Lady
+Blakeney.
+
+Drawing her hood well over her head, she sat in a secluded corner of the
+deck, upon the little black valise which contained the few belongings
+she had brought with her. Her cloak and dress, now mud-stained and dank
+with splashings of salt-water, attracted no one's attention. There was
+a keen northeasterly breeze, cold and penetrating, but favourable to a
+rapid crossing. Marguerite, who had gone through several hours of
+weary travelling by coach, before she had embarked at Dover in the late
+afternoon, was unspeakably tired. She had watched the golden sunset
+out at sea until her eyes were burning with pain, and as the dazzling
+crimson and orange and purple gave place to the soft grey tones of
+evening, she descried the round cupola of the church of Our Lady of
+Boulogne against the dull background of the sky.
+
+After that her mind became a blank. A sort of torpor fell over her
+sense: she was wakeful and yet half-asleep, unconscious of everything
+around her, seeing nothing but the distant massive towers of old
+Boulogne churches gradually detaching themselves one by one from out the
+fast gathering gloom.
+
+The town seemed like a dream city, a creation of some morbid
+imagination, presented to her mind's eye as the city of sorrow and
+death.
+
+When the boat finally scraped her sides along the rough wooden jetty,
+Marguerite felt as if she were forcibly awakened. She was numb and stiff
+and thought she must have fallen asleep during the last half hour of the
+journey. Everything round her was dark. The sky was overcast, and the
+night seemed unusually sombre. Figures were moving all around her, there
+was noise and confusion of voices, and a general pushing and shouting
+which seemed strangely weird in this gloom. Here among the poorer
+passengers, there had not been thought any necessity for a light, one
+solitary lantern fixed to a mast only enhanced the intense blackness of
+everything around. Now and then a face would come within range of this
+meagre streak of yellow light, looking strangely distorted, with
+great, elongated shadows across the brow and chin, a grotesque, ghostly
+apparition which quickly vanished again, scurrying off like some
+frightened gnome, giving place other forms, other figures all equally
+grotesque and equally weird.
+
+Marguerite watched them all half stupidly and motionlessly for awhile.
+She did not quite know what she ought to do, and did not like to ask any
+questions: she was dazed and the darkness blinded her. Then gradually
+things began to detach themselves more clearly. On looking straight
+before her, she began to discern the landing place, the little wooden
+bridge across which the passengers walked one by one from the boat onto
+the jetty. The first-class passengers were evidently all alighting now:
+the crowd of which Marguerite formed a unit, had been pushed back in a
+more compact herd, out of the way for the moment, so that their betters
+might get along more comfortably.
+
+Beyond the landing stage a little booth had been erected, a kind of
+tent, open in front and lighted up within by a couple of lanthorns.
+Under this tent there was a table, behind which sat a man dressed in
+some sort of official looking clothes, and wearing the tricolour scarf
+across his chest.
+
+All the passengers from the boat had apparently to file past this tent.
+Marguerite could see them now quite distinctly, the profiles of the
+various faces, as they paused for a moment in front of the table, being
+brilliantly illuminated by one of the lanterns. Two sentinels wearing
+the uniform of the National Guard stood each side of the table. The
+passengers one by one took out their passport as they went by, handed
+it to the man in the official dress, who examined it carefully, very
+lengthily, then signed it and returned the paper to its owner: but at
+times, he appeared doubtful, folded the passport and put it down in
+front of him: the passenger would protest; Marguerite could not hear
+what was said, but she could see that some argument was attempted,
+quickly dismissed by a peremptory order from the official. The doubtful
+passport was obviously put on one side for further examination, and the
+unfortunate owner thereof detained, until he or she had been able
+to give more satisfactory references to the representatives of the
+Committee of Public Safety, stationed at Boulogne.
+
+This process of examination necessarily took a long time. Marguerite
+was getting horribly tired, her feet ached and she scarcely could hold
+herself upright: yet she watched all these people mechanically, making
+absurd little guesses in her weary mind as to whose passport would find
+favour in the eyes of the official, and whose would be found suspect and
+inadequate.
+
+Suspect! a terrible word these times! since Merlin's terrible law
+decreed now that every man, woman or child, who was suspected by the
+Republic of being a traitor was a traitor in fact.
+
+How sorry she felt for those whose passports were detained: who tried
+to argue--so needlessly!--and who were finally led off by a soldier,
+who had stepped out from somewhere in the dark, and had to await further
+examination, probably imprisonment and often death.
+
+As to herself, she felt quite safe: the passport given to her by
+Chauvelin's own accomplice was sure to be quite en regle.
+
+Then suddenly her heart seemed to give a sudden leap and then to stop in
+its beating for a second or two. In one of the passengers, a man who
+was just passing in front of the tent, she had recognized the form and
+profile of Chauvelin.
+
+He had no passport to show, but evidently the official knew who he
+was, for he stood up and saluted, and listened deferentially whilst
+the ex-ambassador apparently gave him a few instructions. It seemed to
+Marguerite that these instructions related to two women who were close
+behind Chauvelin at the time, and who presently seemed to file past
+without going through the usual formalities of showing their passports.
+But of this she could not be quite sure. The women were closely hooded
+and veiled and her own attention had been completely absorbed by this
+sudden appearance of her deadly enemy.
+
+Yet what more natural than that Chauvelin should be here now? His object
+accomplished, he had no doubt posted to Dover, just as she had done.
+There was no difficulty in that, and a man of his type and importance
+would always have unlimited means and money at his command to accomplish
+any journey he might desire to undertake.
+
+There was nothing strange or even unexpected in the man's presence here;
+and yet somehow it had made the whole, awful reality more tangible, more
+wholly unforgettable. Marguerite remembered his abject words to her,
+when first she had seen him at the Richmond fete: he said that he
+had fallen into disgrace, that, having failed in his service to the
+Republic, he had been relegated to a subordinate position, pushed aside
+with contumely to make room for better, abler men.
+
+Well! all that was a lie, of course, a cunning method of gaining access
+into her house; of that she had already been convinced, when Candeille
+provoked the esclandre which led to the challenge.
+
+That on French soil he seemed in anything but a subsidiary position,
+that he appeared to rule rather than to obey, could in no way appear to
+Marguerite in the nature of surprise.
+
+As the actress had been a willing tool in the cunning hands of
+Chauvelin, so were probably all these people around her. Where others
+cringed in the face of officialism, the ex-ambassador had stepped forth
+as a master: he had shown a badge, spoken a word mayhap, and the man in
+the tent who had made other people tremble, stood up deferentially and
+obeyed all commands.
+
+It was all very simple and very obvious: but Marguerite's mind had been
+asleep, and it was the sight of the sable-clad little figure which had
+roused it from its happy torpor.
+
+In a moment now her brain was active and alert, and presently it seemed
+to her as if another figure--taller than those around--had crossed the
+barrier immediately in the wake of Chauvelin. Then she chided herself
+for her fancies!
+
+It could not be her husband. Not yet! He had gone by water, and would
+scarce be in Boulogne before the morning!
+
+Ah! now at last came the turn of the second-class passengers! There was
+a general bousculade and the human bundle began to move. Marguerite lost
+sight of the tent and its awe-inspiring appurtenances: she was a mere
+unit again in this herd on the move. She too progressed along slowly,
+one step at a time; it was wearisome and she was deadly tired. She was
+beginning to form plans now that she had arrived in France. All along
+she had made up her mind that she would begin by seeking out the Abbe
+Foucquet, for he would prove a link 'twixt her husband and herself. She
+knew that Percy would communicate with the abbe; had he not told
+her that the rescue of the devoted old man from the clutches of the
+Terrorists would be one of the chief objects of his journey? It had
+never occurred to her what she would do if she found the Abbe Foucquet
+gone from Boulogne.
+
+"He! la mere! your passport!"
+
+The rough words roused her from her meditations. She had moved forward,
+quite mechanically, her mind elsewhere, her thoughts not following the
+aim of her feet. Thus she must have crossed the bridge along with some
+of the crowd, must have landed on the jetty, and reached the front of
+the tent, without really knowing what she was doing.
+
+Ah yes! her passport! She had quite forgotten that! But she had it
+by her, quite in order, given to her in a fit of tardy remorse by
+Demoiselle Candeille, the intimate friend of one of the most influential
+members of the Revolutionary Government of France.
+
+She took the passport from the bosom of her dress and handed it to the
+man in the official dress.
+
+"Your name?" he asked peremptorily.
+
+"Celine Dumont," she replied unhesitatingly, for had she not rehearsed
+all this in her mind dozens of times, until her tongue could rattle off
+the borrowed name as easily as it could her own; "servitor to Citizeness
+Desiree Candeille!"
+
+The man who had very carefully been examining the paper the while,
+placed it down on the table deliberately in front of him, and said:
+
+"Celine Dumont! Eh! la mere! what tricks are you up to now?"
+
+"Tricks? I don't understand!" she said quietly, for she was not afraid.
+The passport was en regle: she knew she had nothing to fear.
+
+"Oh! but I think you do!" retorted the official with a sneer, "and
+'tis a mighty clever one, I'll allow. Celine Dumont, ma foi! Not badly
+imagined, ma petite mere: and all would have passed off splendidly;
+unfortunately, Celine Dumont, servitor to Citizeness Desiree Candeille,
+passed through these barriers along with her mistress not half an hour
+ago."
+
+And with long, grimy finger he pointed to an entry in the large book
+which lay open before him, and wherein he had apparently been busy
+making notes of the various passengers who had filed past him.
+
+Then he looked up with a triumphant leer at the calm face of Marguerite.
+She still did not feel really frightened, only puzzled and perturbed;
+but all the blood had rushed away from her face, leaving her cheeks
+ashen white, and pressing against her heart, until it almost choked her.
+
+"You are making a mistake, Citizen," she said very quietly. "I am
+Citizeness Candeille's maid. She gave me the passport herself, just
+before I left for England; if you will ask her the question, she will
+confirm what I say, and she assured me that it was quite en regle."
+
+But the man only shrugged his shoulders and laughed derisively. The
+incident evidently amused him, yet he must have seen many of the same
+sort; in the far corner of the tent Marguerite seemed to discern a few
+moving forms, soldiers, she thought, for she caught sight of a glint
+like that of steel. One or two men stood close behind the official at
+the desk, and the sentinels were to the right and left of the tent.
+
+With an instinctive sense of appeal, Marguerite looked round from one
+face to the other: but each looked absolutely impassive and stolid,
+quite uninterested in this little scene, the exact counterpart of a
+dozen others, enacted on this very spot within the last hour.
+
+"He! la! la! petite mere!" said the official in the same tone of easy
+persiflage which he had adopted all along, "but we do know how to
+concoct a pretty lie, aye! and so circumstantially too! Unfortunately
+it was Citizeness Desiree Candeille herself who happened to be standing
+just where you are at the present moment, along with her maid, Celine
+Dumont, both of whom were specially signed for and recommended as
+perfectly trustworthy, by no less a person than Citoyen Chauvelin of the
+Committee of Public Safety."
+
+"But I assure you that there is a mistake," pleaded Marguerite
+earnestly, "'Tis the other woman who lied, I have my passport and..."
+
+"A truce on this," retorted the man peremptorily. "If everything is
+as you say, and if you have nothing to hide, you'll be at liberty to
+continue your journey to-morrow, after you have explained yourself
+before the citizen governor. Next one now, quick!"
+
+Marguerite tried another protest, just as those others had done, whom
+she had watched so mechanically before. But already she knew that that
+would be useless, for she had felt that a heavy hand was being placed on
+her shoulder, and that she was being roughly led away.
+
+In a flash she had understood and seen the whole sequel of the awful
+trap which had all along been destined to engulf her as well as her
+husband.
+
+What a clumsy, blind fool she had been!
+
+What a miserable antagonist the subtle schemes of a past master of
+intrigue as was Chauvelin. To have enticed the Scarlet Pimpernel to
+France was a great thing! The challenge was clever, the acceptance of
+it by the bold adventurer a forgone conclusion, but the master stroke of
+the whole plan was done, when she, the wife, was enticed over too with
+the story of Candeille's remorse and the offer of the passport.
+
+Fool! fool that she was!
+
+And how well did Chauvelin know feminine nature! How cleverly he had
+divined her thoughts, her feelings, the impulsive way in which she would
+act; how easily he had guessed that, knowing her husband's danger, she,
+Marguerite, would immediately follow him.
+
+Now the trap had closed on her--and she saw it all, when it was too
+late.
+
+Percy Blakeney in France! His wife a prisoner! Her freedom and safety in
+exchange for his life!
+
+The hopelessness of it all struck her with appalling force, and her
+senses reeled with the awful finality of the disaster.
+
+Yet instinct in her still struggled for freedom. Ahead of her, and all
+around, beyond the tent and in the far distance there was a provocative
+alluring darkness: if she only could get away, only could reach the
+shelter of that remote and sombre distance, she would hide, and wait,
+not blunder again, oh no! she would be prudent and wary, if only she
+could get away!
+
+One woman's struggles, against five men! It was pitiable, sublime,
+absolutely useless.
+
+The man in the tent seemed to be watching her with much amusement for a
+moment or two, as her whole graceful body stiffened for that absurd and
+unequal physical contest. He seemed vastly entertained at the sight of
+this good-looking young woman striving to pit her strength against five
+sturdy soldiers of the Republic.
+
+"Allons! that will do now!" he said at last roughly. "We have no time
+to waste! Get the jade away, and let her cool her temper in No. 6, until
+the citizen governor gives further orders.
+
+"Take her away!" he shouted more loudly, banging a grimy fist down on
+the table before him, as Marguerite still struggled on with the blind
+madness of despair. "Pardi! can none of you rid us of that turbulent
+baggage?"
+
+The crowd behind were pushing forward: the guard within the tent were
+jeering at those who were striving to drag Marguerite away: these latter
+were cursing loudly and volubly, until one of them, tired out, furious
+and brutal, raised his heavy fist and with an obscene oath brought it
+crashing down upon the unfortunate woman's head.
+
+Perhaps, though it was the work of a savage and cruel creature, the blow
+proved more merciful than it had been intended: it had caught Marguerite
+full between the eyes; her aching senses, wearied and reeling already,
+gave way beneath this terrible violence; her useless struggles ceased,
+her arms fell inert by her side: and losing consciousness completely,
+her proud, unbendable spirit was spared the humiliating knowledge of her
+final removal by the rough soldiers, and of the complete wreckage of her
+last, lingering hopes.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XVIII: No. 6
+
+
+
+Consciousness returned very slowly, very painfully.
+
+It was night when last Marguerite had clearly known what was going on
+around her; it was daylight before she realized that she still lived,
+that she still knew and suffered.
+
+Her head ached intolerably: that was the first conscious sensation which
+came to her; then she vaguely perceived a pale ray of sunshine, very
+hazy and narrow, which came from somewhere in front of her and struck
+her in the face. She kept her eyes tightly shut, for that filmy light
+caused her an increase of pain.
+
+She seemed to be lying on her back, and her fingers wandering restlessly
+around felt a hard paillasse, beneath their touch, then a rough pillow,
+and her own cloak laid over her: thought had not yet returned, only the
+sensation of great suffering and of infinite fatigue.
+
+Anon she ventured to open her eyes, and gradually one or two objects
+detached themselves from out the haze which still obscured her vision.
+
+Firstly, the narrow aperture--scarcely a window--filled in with tiny
+squares of coarse, unwashed glass, through which the rays of the morning
+sun were making kindly efforts to penetrate, then the cloud of dust
+illumined by those same rays, and made up--so it seemed to the poor
+tired brain that strove to perceive--of myriads of abnormally large
+molecules, over-abundant, and over-active, for they appeared to be
+dancing a kind of wild saraband before Marguerite's aching eyes,
+advancing and retreating, forming themselves into groups and taking on
+funny shapes of weird masques and grotesque faces which grinned at the
+unconscious figure lying helpless on the rough paillasse.
+
+Through and beyond them Marguerite gradually became aware of three walls
+of a narrow room, dank and grey, half covered with whitewash and half
+with greenish mildew! Yes! and there, opposite to her and immediately
+beneath that semblance of a window, was another paillasse, and on it
+something dark, that moved.
+
+The words: "Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite ou la Mort!" stared out at her
+from somewhere beyond those active molecules of dust, but she also saw
+just above the other paillasse the vague outline of a dark crucifix.
+
+It seemed a terrible effort to co-ordinate all these things, and to
+try and realize what the room was, and what was the meaning of the
+paillasse, the narrow window and the stained walls, too much altogether
+for the aching head to take in save very slowly, very gradually.
+
+Marguerite was content to wait and to let memory creep back as
+reluctantly as it would.
+
+"Do you think, my child, you could drink a little of this now?"
+
+It was a gentle, rather tremulous voice which struck upon her ear.
+She opened her eyes, and noticed that the dark something which had
+previously been on the opposite paillasse was no longer there, and
+that there appeared to be a presence close to her only vaguely defined,
+someone kindly and tender who had spoken to her in French, with that
+soft sing-song accent peculiar to the Normandy peasants, and who now
+seemed to be pressing something cool and soothing to her lips.
+
+"They gave me this for you!" continued the tremulous voice close to her
+ear. "I think it would do you good, if you tried to take it."
+
+A hand and arm was thrust underneath the rough pillow, causing her to
+raise her head a little. A glass was held to her lips and she drank.
+
+The hand that held the glass was all wrinkled, brown and dry, and
+trembled slightly, but the arm which supported her head was firm and
+very kind.
+
+"There! I am sure you feel better now. Close your eyes and try to go to
+sleep."
+
+She did as she was bid, and was ready enough to close her eyes. It
+seemed to her presently as if something had been interposed between her
+aching head and that trying ray of white September sun.
+
+Perhaps she slept peacefully for a little while after that, for though
+her head was still very painful, her mouth and throat felt less parched
+and dry. Through this sleep or semblance of sleep, she was conscious of
+the same pleasant voice softly droning Paters and Aves close to her ear.
+
+Thus she lay, during the greater part of the day. Not quite fully
+conscious, not quite awake to the awful memories which anon would crowd
+upon her thick and fast.
+
+From time to time the same kind and trembling hands would with gentle
+pressure force a little liquid food through her unwilling lips: some
+warm soup, or anon a glass of milk. Beyond the pain in her head, she
+was conscious of no physical ill; she felt at perfect peace, and an
+extraordinary sense of quiet and repose seemed to pervade this small
+room, with its narrow window through which the rays of the sun came
+gradually in more golden splendour as the day drew towards noon, and
+then they vanished altogether.
+
+The drony voice close beside her acted as a soporific upon her nerves.
+In the afternoon she fell into a real and beneficent sleep....
+
+But after that, she woke to full consciousness!
+
+Oh! the horror, the folly of it all!
+
+It came back to her with all the inexorable force of an appalling
+certainty.
+
+She was a prisoner in the hands of those who long ago had sworn to bring
+The Scarlet Pimpernel to death!
+
+She! his wife, a hostage in their hands! her freedom and safety offered
+to him as the price of his own! Here there was no question of dreams
+or of nightmares: no illusions as to the ultimate intentions of her
+husband's enemies. It was all a reality, and even now, before she had
+the strength fully to grasp the whole nature of this horrible situation,
+she knew that by her own act of mad and passionate impulse, she had
+hopelessly jeopardized the life of the man she loved.
+
+For with that sublime confidence in him begotten of her love, she never
+for a moment doubted which of the two alternatives he would choose, when
+once they were placed before him. He would sacrifice himself for her; he
+would prefer to die a thousand deaths so long as they set her free.
+
+For herself, her own sufferings, her danger or humiliation she cared
+nothing! Nay! at this very moment she was conscious of a wild passionate
+desire for death.... In this sudden onrush of memory and of thought she
+wished with all her soul and heart and mind to die here suddenly, on
+this hard paillasse, in this lonely and dark prison... so that she
+should be out of the way once and for all... so that she should NOT be
+the hostage to be bartered against his precious life and freedom.
+
+He would suffer acutely, terribly at her loss, because he loved her
+above everything else on earth, he would suffer in every fibre of his
+passionate and ardent nature, but he would not then have to endure
+the humiliations, the awful alternatives, the galling impotence and
+miserable death, the relentless "either--or" which his enemies were even
+now preparing for him.
+
+And then came a revulsion of feeling. Marguerite's was essentially a
+buoyant and active nature, a keen brain which worked and schemed and
+planned, rather than one ready to accept the inevitable.
+
+Hardly had these thoughts of despair and of death formulated themselves
+in her mind, than with brilliant swiftness, a new train of ideas began
+to take root.
+
+What if matters were not so hopeless after all?
+
+Already her mind had flown instinctively to thoughts of escape. Had she
+the right to despair? She, the wife and intimate companion of the man
+who had astonished the world with his daring, his prowess, his amazing
+good luck, she to imagine for a moment that in this all-supreme moment
+of adventurous life the Scarlet Pimpernel would fail!
+
+Was not English society peopled with men, women and children whom his
+ingenuity had rescued from plights quite as seemingly hopeless as her
+own, and would not all the resources of that inventive brain be brought
+to bear upon this rescue which touched him nearer and more deeply than
+any which he had attempted hitherto.
+
+Now Marguerite was chiding herself for her doubts and for her fears.
+Already she remembered that amongst the crowd on the landing stage
+she had perceived a figure--unusually tall--following in the wake of
+Chauvelin and his companions. Awakened hope had already assured her that
+she had not been mistaken, that Percy, contrary to her own surmises,
+had reached Boulogne last night: he always acted so differently to what
+anyone might expect, that it was quite possible that he had crossed over
+in the packet-boat after all unbeknown to Marguerite as well as to his
+enemies.
+
+Oh yes! the more she thought about it all, the more sure was she that
+Percy was already in Boulogne, and that he knew of her capture and her
+danger.
+
+What right had she to doubt even for a moment that he would know how to
+reach her, how--when the time came--to save himself and her?
+
+A warm glow began to fill her veins, she felt excited and alert,
+absolutely unconscious now of pain or fatigue, in this radiant joy of
+reawakened hope.
+
+She raised herself slightly, leaning on her elbow: she was still very
+weak and the slight movement had made her giddy, but soon she would
+be strong and well... she must be strong and well and ready to do his
+bidding when the time for escape would have come.
+
+"Ah! you are better, my child, I see..." said that quaint, tremulous
+voice again, with its soft sing-song accent, "but you must not be so
+venturesome, you know. The physician said that you had received a cruel
+blow. The brain has been rudely shaken... and you must lie quite still
+all to-day, or your poor little head will begin to ache again."
+
+Marguerite turned to look at the speaker, and in spite of her
+excitement, of her sorrow and of her anxieties, she could not help
+smiling at the whimsical little figure which sat opposite to her, on a
+very rickety chair, solemnly striving with slow and measured movement
+of hand and arm, and a large supply of breath, to get up a polish on the
+worn-out surface of an ancient pair of buckled shoes.
+
+The figure was slender and almost wizened, the thin shoulders round
+with an habitual stoop, the lean shanks were encased in a pair of
+much-darned, coarse black stockings. It was the figure of an old man,
+with a gentle, clear-cut face furrowed by a forest of wrinkles, and
+surmounted by scanty white locks above a smooth forehead which looked
+yellow and polished like an ancient piece of ivory.
+
+He had looked across at Marguerite as he spoke, and a pair of innately
+kind and mild blue eyes were fixed with tender reproach upon her.
+Marguerite thought that she had never seen quite so much goodness and
+simple-heartedness portrayed on any face before. It literally beamed out
+of those pale blue eyes, which seemed quite full of unshed tears.
+
+The old man wore a tattered garment, a miracle of shining cleanliness,
+which had once been a soutane of smooth black cloth, but was now a
+mass of patches and threadbare at shoulders and knees. He seemed deeply
+intent in the task of polishing his shoes, and having delivered himself
+of his little admonition, he very solemnly and earnestly resumed his
+work.
+
+Marguerite's first and most natural instinct had, of course, been one of
+dislike and mistrust of anyone who appeared to be in some way on guard
+over her. But when she took in every detail of the quaint figure of the
+old man, his scrupulous tidiness of apparel, the resigned stoop of his
+shoulders, and met in full the gaze of those moist eyes, she felt that
+the whole aspect of the man, as he sat there polishing his shoes, was
+infinitely pathetic and, in its simplicity, commanding of respect.
+
+"Who are you?" asked Lady Blakeney at last, for the old man after
+looking at her with a kind of appealing wonder, seemed to be waiting for
+her to speak.
+
+"A priest of the good God, my dear child," replied the old man with a
+deep sigh and a shake of his scanty locks, "who is not allowed to serve
+his divine Master any longer. A poor old fellow, very harmless and very
+helpless, who had been set here to watch over you.
+
+"You must not look upon me as a jailer because of what I say, my child,"
+he added with a quaint air of deference and apology. "I am very old and
+very small, and only take up a very little room. I can make myself very
+scarce; you shall hardly know that I am here. They forced me to it much
+against my will.... But they are strong and I am weak, how could I deny
+them since they put me here. After all," he concluded naively, "perhaps
+it is the will of le bon Dieu, and He knows best, my child, He knows
+best."
+
+The shoes evidently refused to respond any further to the old man's
+efforts at polishing them. He contemplated them now, with a whimsical
+look of regret on his furrowed face, then set them down on the floor and
+slipped his stockinged feet into them.
+
+Marguerite was silently watching him, still leaning on her elbow.
+Evidently her brain was still numb and fatigued, for she did not seem
+able to grasp all that the old man said. She smiled to herself too as
+she watched him. How could she look upon him as a jailer? He did not
+seem at all like a Jacobin or a Terrorist, there was nothing of the
+dissatisfied democrat, of the snarling anarchist ready to lend his hand
+to any act of ferocity directed against a so-called aristocrat, about
+this pathetic little figure in the ragged soutane and worn shoes.
+
+He seemed singularly bashful too and ill at ease, and loath to meet
+Marguerite's great, ardent eyes, which were fixed questioningly upon
+him.
+
+"You must forgive me, my daughter," he said shyly, "for concluding my
+toilet before you. I had hoped to be quite ready before you woke, but I
+had some trouble with my shoes; except for a little water and soap the
+prison authorities will not provide us poor captives with any means of
+cleanliness and tidiness, and le bon Dieu does love a tidy body as well
+as a clean soul.
+
+"But there, there," he added fussily, "I must not continue to gossip
+like this. You would like to get up, I know, and refresh your face and
+hands with a little water. Oh! you will see how well I have thought it
+out. I need not interfere with you at all, and when you make your little
+bit of toilette, you will feel quite alone... just as if the old man was
+not there."
+
+He began busying himself about the room, dragging the rickety,
+rush-bottomed chairs forward. There were four of these in the room, and
+he began forming a kind of bulwark with them, placing two side by side,
+then piling the two others up above.
+
+"You will see, my child, you will see!" he kept repeating at intervals
+as the work of construction progressed. It was no easy matter, for
+he was of low stature, and his hands were unsteady from apparently
+uncontrollable nervousness.
+
+Marguerite, leaning slightly forward, her chin resting in her hand, was
+too puzzled and anxious to grasp the humour of this comical situation.
+She certainly did not understand. This old man had in some sort of way,
+and for a hitherto unexplained reason, been set as a guard over her; it
+was not an unusual device on the part of the inhuman wretches who now
+ruled France, to add to the miseries and terrors of captivity, where a
+woman of refinement was concerned, the galling outrage of never leaving
+her alone for a moment.
+
+That peculiar form of mental torture, surely the invention of brains
+rendered mad by their own ferocious cruelty, was even now being
+inflicted on the hapless, dethroned Queen of France. Marguerite, in
+far-off England, had shuddered when she heard of it, and in her heart
+had prayed, as indeed every pure-minded woman did then, that proud,
+unfortunate Marie Antoinette might soon find release from such torments
+in death.
+
+There was evidently some similar intention with regard to Marguerite
+herself in the minds of those who now held her prisoner. But this old
+man seemed so feeble and so helpless, his very delicacy of thought as
+he built up a screen to divide the squalid room in two, proved him to be
+singularly inefficient for the task of a watchful jailer.
+
+When the four chairs appeared fairly steady, and in comparatively little
+danger of toppling, he dragged the paillasse forward and propped it
+up against the chairs. Finally he drew the table along, which held the
+cracked ewer and basin, and placed it against this improvised partition:
+then he surveyed the whole construction with evident gratification and
+delight.
+
+"There now!" he said, turning a face beaming with satisfaction to
+Marguerite, "I can continue my prayers on the other side of the
+fortress. Oh! it is quite safe..." he added, as with a fearsome hand he
+touched his engineering feat with gingerly pride, "and you will be quite
+private.... Try and forget that the old abbe is in the room.... He does
+not count... really he does not count... he has ceased to be of any
+moment these many months now that Saint Joseph is closed and he may no
+longer say Mass."
+
+He was obviously prattling on in order to hide his nervous bashfulness.
+He ensconced himself behind his own finely constructed bulwark, drew a
+breviary from his pocket and having found a narrow ledge on one of
+the chairs, on which he could sit, without much danger of bringing the
+elaborate screen onto the top of his head, he soon became absorbed in
+his orisons.
+
+Marguerite watched him for a little while longer: he was evidently
+endeavouring to make her think that he had become oblivious of her
+presence, and his transparent little manoeuvers amused and puzzled her
+not a little.
+
+He looked so comical with his fussy and shy ways, yet withal so gentle
+and so kindly that she felt completely reassured and quite calm.
+
+She tried to raise herself still further and found the process
+astonishingly easy. Her limbs still ached and the violent, intermittent
+pain in her head certainly made her feel sick and giddy at times, but
+otherwise she was not ill. She sat up on the paillasse, then put
+her feet to the ground and presently walked up to the improvised
+dressing-room and bathed her face and hands. The rest had done her good,
+and she felt quite capable of co-ordinating her thoughts, of moving
+about without too much pain, and of preparing herself both mentally and
+physically for the grave events which she knew must be imminent.
+
+While she busied herself with her toilet her thoughts dwelt on the one
+all-absorbing theme: Percy was in Boulogne, he knew that she was here,
+in prison, he would reach her without fail, in fact he might communicate
+with her at any moment now, and had without a doubt already evolved a
+plan of escape for her, more daring and ingenious than any which he had
+conceived hitherto; therefore, she must be ready, and prepared for any
+eventuality, she must be strong and eager, in no way despondent, for if
+he were here, would he not chide her for her want of faith?
+
+By the time she had smoothed her hair and tidied her dress, Marguerite
+caught herself singing quite cheerfully to herself.
+
+So full of buoyant hope was she.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XIX: The Strength of the Weak
+
+
+
+"M. L'Abbe!..." said Marguerite gravely.
+
+"Yes, mon enfant."
+
+The old man looked up from his breviary, and saw Marguerite's great
+earnest eyes fixed with obvious calm and trust upon him. She had
+finished her toilet as well as she could, had shaken up and tidied the
+paillasse, and was now sitting on the edge of it, her hands clasped
+between her knees. There was something which still puzzled her, and
+impatient and impulsive as she was, she had watched the abbe as he
+calmly went on reading the Latin prayers for the last five minutes, and
+now she could contain her questionings no longer.
+
+"You said just now that they set you to watch over me..."
+
+"So they did, my child, so they did..." he replied with a sigh, as he
+quietly closed his book and slipped it back into his pocket. "Ah! they
+are very cunning... and we must remember that they have the power. No
+doubt," added the old man, with his own, quaint philosophy, "no doubt le
+bon Dieu meant them to have the power, or they would not have it, would
+they?"
+
+"By 'they' you mean the Terrorists and Anarchists of France,
+M. L'Abbe.... The Committee of Public Safety who pillage and murder,
+outrage women, and desecrate religion.... Is that not so?"
+
+"Alas! my child!" he sighed.
+
+"And it is 'they' who have set you to watch over me?... I confess I
+don't understand..."
+
+She laughed, quite involuntarily indeed, for in spite of the reassurance
+in her heart her brain was still in a whirl of passionate anxiety.
+
+"You don't look at all like one of 'them,' M. l'Abbe," she said.
+
+"The good God forbid!" ejaculated the old man, raising protesting hands
+up toward the very distant, quite invisible sky. "How could I, a humble
+priest of the Lord, range myself with those who would flout and defy
+Him."
+
+"Yet I am a prisoner of the Republic and you are my jailer, M. l'Abbe."
+
+"Ah, yes!" he sighed. "But I am very helpless. This was my cell. I had
+been here with Francois and Felicite, my sister's children, you know.
+Innocent lambs, whom those fiends would lead to slaughter. Last night,"
+he continued, speaking volubly, "the soldiers came in and dragged
+Francois and Felicite out of this room, where, in spite of the danger
+before us, in spite of what we suffered, we had contrived to be quite
+happy together. I could read the Mass, and the dear children would say
+their prayers night and morning at my knee."
+
+He paused awhile. The unshed tears in his mild blue eyes struggled
+for freedom now, and one or two flowed slowly down his wrinkled cheek.
+Marguerite, though heartsore and full of agonizing sorrow herself, felt
+her whole noble soul go out to this kind old man, so pathetic, so high
+and simple-minded in his grief.
+
+She said nothing, however, and the Abbe continued after a few seconds'
+silence.
+
+"When the children had gone, they brought you in here, mon enfant, and
+laid you on the paillasse where Felicite used to sleep. You looked
+very white, and stricken down, like one of God's lambs attacked by
+the ravening wolf. Your eyes were closed and you were blissfully
+unconscious. I was taken before the governor of the prison, and he told
+me that you would share the cell with me for a time, and that I was to
+watch you night and day, because..."
+
+The old man paused again. Evidently what he had to say was very
+difficult to put into words. He groped in his pockets and brought out
+a large bandana handkerchief, red and yellow and green, with which
+he began to mop his moist forehead. The quaver in his voice and the
+trembling of his hands became more apparent and pronounced.
+
+"Yes, M. l'Abbe? Because?..." queried Marguerite gently.
+
+"They said that if I guarded you well, Felicite and Francois would
+be set free," replied the old man after a while, during which he made
+vigorous efforts to overcome his nervousness, "and that if you escaped
+the children and I would be guillotined the very next day."
+
+There was silence in the little room now. The Abbe was sitting quite
+still, clasping his trembling fingers, and Marguerite neither moved nor
+spoke. What the old man had just said was very slowly finding its way to
+the innermost cells of her brain. Until her mind had thoroughly grasped
+the meaning of it all, she could not trust herself to make a single
+comment.
+
+It was some seconds before she fully understood it all, before she
+realized what it meant not only to her, but indirectly to her husband.
+Until now she had not been fully conscious of the enormous wave of hope
+which almost in spite of herself had risen triumphant above the dull,
+grey sea of her former despair; only now when it had been shattered
+against this deadly rock of almost superhuman devilry and cunning did
+she understand what she had hoped, and what she must now completely
+forswear.
+
+No bolts and bars, no fortified towers or inaccessible fortresses could
+prove so effectual a prison for Marguerite Blakeney as the dictum which
+morally bound her to her cell.
+
+"If you escape the children and I would be guillotined the very next
+day."
+
+This meant that even if Percy knew, even if he could reach her, he
+could never set her free, since her safety meant death to two innocent
+children and to this simple hearted man.
+
+It would require more than the ingenuity of the Scarlet Pimpernel
+himself to untie this Gordian knot.
+
+"I don't mind for myself, of course," the old man went on with gentle
+philosophy. "I have lived my life. What matters if I die to-morrow, or
+if I linger on until my earthly span is legitimately run out? I am ready
+to go home whenever my Father calls me. But it is the children, you
+see. I have to think of them. Francois is his mother's only son, the
+bread-winner of the household, a good lad and studious too, and Felicite
+has always been very delicate. She is blind from birth and..."
+
+"Oh! don't... for pity's sake, don't..." moaned Marguerite in an agony
+of helplessness. "I understand... you need not fear for your children,
+M. l'Abbe: no harm shall come to them through me."
+
+"It is as the good God wills!" replied the old man quietly.
+
+Then, as Marguerite had once more relapsed into silence, he fumbled
+for his beads, and his gentle voice began droning the Paters and Aves
+wherein no doubt his child-like heart found peace and solace.
+
+He understood that the poor woman would not wish to speak, he knew as
+well as she did the overpowering strength of his helpless appeal. Thus
+the minutes sped on, the jailer and the captive, tied to one another by
+the strongest bonds that hand of man could forge, had nothing to say
+to one another: he, the old priest, imbued with the traditions of his
+calling, could pray and resign himself to the will of the Almighty, but
+she was young and ardent and passionate, she loved and was beloved,
+and an impassable barrier was built up between her and the man she
+worshipped!
+
+A barrier fashioned by the weak hands of children, one of whom was
+delicate and blind. Outside was air and freedom, reunion with her
+husband, an agony of happy remorse, a kiss from his dear lips, and
+trembling held her back from it all, because of Francois who was the
+bread-winner and of Felicite who was blind.
+
+Mechanically now Marguerite rose again, and like an automaton--lifeless
+and thoughtless--she began putting the dingy, squalid room to rights.
+The Abbe helped her demolish the improvised screen; with the same gentle
+delicacy of thought which had caused him to build it up, he refrained
+from speaking to her now: he would not intrude himself on her grief and
+her despair.
+
+Later on, she forced herself to speak again, and asked the old man his
+name.
+
+"My name is Foucquet," he replied, "Jean Baptiste Marie Foucquet,
+late parish priest of the Church of Saint Joseph, the patron saint of
+Boulogne."
+
+Foucquet! This was l'Abbe Foucquet! the faithful friend and servant of
+the de Marny family.
+
+Marguerite gazed at him with great, questioning eyes.
+
+What a wealth of memories crowded in on her mind at sound of that name!
+Her beautiful home at Richmond, her brilliant array of servants and
+guests, His Royal Highness at her side! life in free, joyous happy
+England--how infinitely remote it now seemed. Her ears were filled with
+the sound of a voice, drawly and quaint and gentle, a voice and a laugh
+half shy, wholly mirthful, and oh! so infinitely dear:
+
+"I think a little sea voyage and English country air would suit the Abbe
+Foucquet, m'dear, and I only mean to ask him to cross the Channel with
+me..."
+
+Oh! the joy and confidence expressed in those words! the daring, the
+ambition! the pride! and the soft, languorous air of the old-world
+garden round her then, the passion of his embrace! the heavy scent of
+late roses and of heliotrope, which caused her to swoon in his arms!
+
+And now a narrow prison cell, and that pathetic, tender little creature
+there, with trembling hands and tear-dimmed eyes, the most powerful and
+most relentless jailer which the ferocious cunning of her deadly enemies
+could possible have devised.
+
+Then she talked to him of Juliette Marny.
+
+The Abbe did not know that Mlle. de Marny had succeeded in reaching
+England safely and was overjoyed to hear it.
+
+He recounted to Marguerite the story of the Marny jewels: how he had put
+them safely away in the crypt of his little church, until the Assembly
+of the Convention had ordered the closing of the churches, and placed
+before every minister of le bon Dieu the alternative of apostasy or
+death.
+
+"With me it has only been prison so far," continued the old man simply,
+"but prison has rendered me just as helpless as the guillotine would
+have done, for the enemies of le bon Dieu have ransacked the Church of
+Saint Joseph and stolen the jewels which I should have guarded with my
+life."
+
+But it was obvious joy for the Abbe to talk of Juliette Marny's
+happiness. Vaguely, in his remote little provincial cure, he had heard
+of the prowess and daring of the Scarlet Pimpernel and liked to think
+that Juliette owed her safety to him.
+
+"The good God will reward him and those whom he cares for," added Abbe
+Foucquet with that earnest belief in divine interference which seemed so
+strangely pathetic under these present circumstances.
+
+Marguerite sighed, and for the first time in this terrible soul-stirring
+crisis through which she was passing so bravely, she felt a beneficent
+moisture in her eyes: the awful tension of her nerves relaxed. She went
+up to the old man took his wrinkled hand in hers and falling on her
+knees beside him she eased her overburdened heart in a flood of tears.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XX: Triumph
+
+
+
+The day that Citizen Chauvelin's letter was received by the members of
+the Committee of Public Safety was indeed one of great rejoicing.
+
+The Moniteur tells us that in the Seance of September 22nd, 1793, or
+Vendemiaire 1st of the Year I. it was decreed that sixty prisoners,
+not absolutely proved guilty of treason against the Republic--only
+suspected--were to be set free.
+
+Sixty!... at the mere news of the possible capture of the Scarlet
+Pimpernel.
+
+The Committee was inclined to be magnanimous. Ferocity yielded for the
+moment to the elusive joy of anticipatory triumph.
+
+A glorious prize was about to fall into the hands of those who had the
+welfare of the people at heart.
+
+Robespierre and his decemvirs rejoiced, and sixty persons had cause
+to rejoice with them. So be it! There were plans evolved already as to
+national fetes and wholesale pardons when that impudent and meddlesome
+Englishman at last got his deserts.
+
+Wholesale pardons which could easily be rescinded afterwards. Even
+with those sixty it was a mere respite. Those of le Salut Public only
+loosened their hold for a while, were nobly magnanimous for a day, quite
+prepared to be doubly ferocious the next.
+
+In the meanwhile let us heartily rejoice!
+
+The Scarlet Pimpernel is in France or will be very soon, and on an
+appointed day he will present himself conveniently to the soldiers of
+the Republic for capture and for subsequent guillotine. England is at
+war with us, there is nothing therefore further to fear from her. We
+might hang every Englishman we can lay hands on, and England could do no
+more than she is doing at the present moment: bombard our ports, bluster
+and threaten, join hands with Flanders, and Austria and Sardinia, and
+the devil if she choose.
+
+Allons! vogue la galere! The Scarlet Pimpernel is perhaps on our shores
+at this very moment! Our most stinging, most irritating foe is about to
+be delivered into our hands.
+
+Citizen Chauvelin's letter is very categorical:
+
+"I guarantee to you, Citizen Robespierre, and to the Members of the
+Revolutionary Government who have entrusted me with the delicate
+mission..."
+
+Robespierre's sensuous lips curl into a sarcastic smile. Citizen
+Chauvelin's pen was ever florid in its style: "entrusted me with the
+delicate mission," is hardly the way to describe an order given under
+penalty of death.
+
+But let it pass.
+
+"... that four days from this date, at one hour after sunset, the man
+who goes by the mysterious name of the Scarlet Pimpernel will be on the
+southern ramparts of Boulogne, at the extreme southern corner of the
+town."
+
+"Four days from this date..." and Citizen Chauvelin's letter is dated
+the nineteenth of September, 1793.
+
+"Too much of an aristocrat--Monsieur le Marquis Chauvelin..." sneers
+Merlin, the Jacobin. "He does not know that all good citizens had called
+that date the 28th Fructidor, Year I. of the Republic."
+
+"No matter," retorts Robespierre with impatient frigidity, "whatever we
+may call the day it was forty-eight hours ago, and in forty-eight hours
+more that damned Englishman will have run his head into a noose, from
+which, an I mistake not, he'll not find it easy to extricate himself."
+
+"And you believe in Citizen Chauvelin's assertion," commented Danton
+with a lazy shrug of the shoulders.
+
+"Only because he asks for help from us," quoth Robespierre drily; "he is
+sure that the man will be there, but not sure if he can tackle him."
+
+But many were inclined to think that Chauvelin's letter was an idle
+boast. They knew nothing of the circumstances which had caused that
+letter to be written: they could not conjecture how it was that the
+ex-ambassador could be so precise in naming the day and hour when the
+enemy of France would be at the mercy of those whom he had outraged and
+flouted.
+
+Nevertheless Citizen Chauvelin asks for help, and help must not be
+denied him. There must be no shadow of blame upon the actions of the
+Committee of Public Safety.
+
+Chauvelin had been weak once, had allowed the prize to slip through his
+fingers; it must not occur again. He has a wonderful head for devising
+plans, but he needs a powerful hand to aid him, so that he may not fail
+again.
+
+Collot d'Herbois, just home from Lyons and Tours, is the right man in
+an emergency like this. Citizen Collot is full of ideas; the inventor
+of the "Noyades" is sure to find a means of converting Boulogne into one
+gigantic prison out of which the mysterious English adventurer will find
+it impossible to escape.
+
+And whilst the deliberations go on, whilst this committee of butchers
+are busy slaughtering in imagination the game they have not yet
+succeeded in bringing down, there comes another messenger from Citizen
+Chauvelin.
+
+He must have ridden hard on the other one's heels, and something very
+unexpected and very sudden must have occurred to cause the Citizen to
+send this second note.
+
+This time it is curt and to the point. Robespierre unfolds it and reads
+it to his colleagues.
+
+"We have caught the woman--his wife--there may be murder attempted
+against my person, send me some one at once who will carry out my
+instructions in case of my sudden death."
+
+Robespierre's lips curl in satisfaction, showing a row of yellowish
+teeth, long and sharp like the fangs of a wolf. A murmur like unto the
+snarl of a pack of hyenas rises round the table, as Chauvelin's letter
+is handed round.
+
+Everyone has guessed the importance of this preliminary capture:
+"the woman--his wife." Chauvelin evidently thinks much of it, for he
+anticipates an attempt against his life, nay! he is quite prepared for
+it, ready to sacrifice it for the sake of his revenge.
+
+Who had accused him of weakness?
+
+He only thinks of his duty, not of his life; he does not fear for
+himself, only that the fruits of his skill might be jeopardized through
+assassination.
+
+Well! this English adventurer is capable of any act of desperation to
+save his wife and himself, and Citizen Chauvelin must not be left in the
+lurch.
+
+Thus, Citizen Collot d'Herbois is despatched forthwith to Boulogne to be
+a helpmeet and counsellor to Citizen Chauvelin.
+
+Everything that can humanly be devised must be done to keep the woman
+secure and to set the trap for that elusive Pimpernel.
+
+Once he is caught the whole of France shall rejoice, and Boulogne, who
+had been instrumental in running the quarry to earth, must be specially
+privileged on that day.
+
+A general amnesty for all prisoners the day the Scarlet Pimpernel is
+captured. A public holiday and a pardon for all natives of Boulogne who
+are under sentence of death: they shall be allowed to find their way to
+the various English boats--trading and smuggling craft--that always lie
+at anchor in the roads there.
+
+The Committee of Public Safety feel amazingly magnanimous towards
+Boulogne; a proclamation embodying the amnesty and the pardon is at once
+drawn up and signed by Robespierre and his bloodthirsty Council of Ten,
+it is entrusted to Citizen Collot d'Herbois to be read out at every
+corner of the ramparts as an inducement to the little town to do its
+level best. The Englishman and his wife--captured in Boulogne--will
+both be subsequently brought to Paris, formally tried on a charge of
+conspiring against the Republic and guillotined as English spies, but
+Boulogne shall have the greater glory and shall reap the first and
+richest reward.
+
+And armed with the magnanimous proclamation, the orders for general
+rejoicings and a grand local fete, armed also with any and every power
+over the entire city, its municipality, its garrisons, its forts, for
+himself and his colleague Chauvelin, Citizen Collot d'Herbois starts for
+Boulogne forthwith.
+
+Needless to tell him not to let the grass grow under his horse's
+hoofs. The capture of the Scarlet Pimpernel, though not absolutely an
+accomplished fact, is nevertheless a practical certainty, and no one
+rejoices over this great event more than the man who is to be present
+and see all the fun.
+
+Riding and driving, getting what relays of horses or waggons from
+roadside farms that he can, Collot is not likely to waste much time on
+the way.
+
+It is 157 miles to Boulogne by road, and Collot, burning with ambition
+to be in at the death, rides or drives as no messenger of good tidings
+has ever ridden or driven before.
+
+He does not stop to eat, but munches chunks of bread and cheese in the
+recess of the lumbering chaise or waggon that bears him along whenever
+his limbs refuse him service and he cannot mount a horse.
+
+The chronicles tell us that twenty-four hours after he left Paris,
+half-dazed with fatigue, but ferocious and eager still, he is borne
+to the gates of Boulogne by an old cart horse requisitioned from some
+distant farm, and which falls down, dead, at the Porte Gayole, whilst
+its rider, with a last effort, loudly clamours for admittance into the
+town "in the name of the Republic."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXI: Suspense
+
+
+
+In his memorable interview with Robespierre, the day before he left for
+England, Chauvelin had asked that absolute power be given him, in
+order that he might carry out the plans for the capture of the Scarlet
+Pimpernel, which he had in his mind. Now that he was back in France he
+had no cause to complain that the revolutionary government had grudged
+him this power for which he had asked.
+
+Implicit obedience had followed whenever he had commanded.
+
+As soon as he heard that a woman had been arrested in the act of
+uttering a passport in the name of Celine Dumont, he guessed at once
+that Marguerite Blakeney had, with characteristic impulse, fallen into
+the trap which, with the aid of the woman Candeille, he had succeeded in
+laying for her.
+
+He was not the least surprised at that. He knew human nature, feminine
+nature, far too well, ever to have been in doubt for a moment that
+Marguerite would follow her husband without calculating either costs or
+risks.
+
+Ye gods! the irony of it all! Had she not been called the cleverest
+woman in Europe at one time? Chauvelin himself had thus acclaimed her,
+in those olden days, before she and he became such mortal enemies, and
+when he was one of the many satellites that revolved round brilliant
+Marguerite St. Just. And to-night, when a sergeant of the town guards
+brought him news of her capture, he smiled grimly to himself; the
+cleverest woman in Europe had failed to perceive the trap laid
+temptingly open for her.
+
+Once more she had betrayed her husband into the hands of those who would
+not let him escape a second time. And now she had done it with her eyes
+open, with loving, passionate heart which ached for self-sacrifice, and
+only succeeded in imperilling the loved one more hopelessly than before.
+
+The sergeant was waiting for orders. Citizen Chauvelin had come to
+Boulogne, armed with more full and more autocratic powers than any
+servant of the new republic had ever been endowed with before.
+The governor of the town, the captain of the guard, the fort and
+municipality were all as abject slaves before him.
+
+As soon as he had taken possession of the quarters organized for him in
+the town hall, he had asked for a list of prisoners who for one cause or
+another were being detained pending further investigations.
+
+The list was long and contained many names which were of not the
+slightest interest to Chauvelin: he passed them over impatiently.
+
+"To be released at one," he said curtly.
+
+He did not want the guard to be burdened with unnecessary duties, nor
+the prisons of the little sea-port town to be inconveniently encumbered.
+He wanted room, space, air, the force and intelligence of the entire
+town at his command for the one capture which meant life and revenge to
+him.
+
+"A woman--name unknown--found in possession of a forged passport in
+the name of Celine Dumont, maid to the Citizeness Desiree
+Candeille--attempted to land--was interrogated and failed to give
+satisfactory explanation of herself--detained in room No. 6 of the
+Gayole prison."
+
+This was one of the last names on the list, the only one of any
+importance to Citizen Chauvelin. When he read it he nearly drove his
+nails into the palms of his hands, so desperate an effort did he make
+not to betray before the sergeant by look or sigh the exultation which
+he felt.
+
+For a moment he shaded his eyes against the glare of the lamp, but it
+was not long before he had formulated a plan and was ready to give his
+orders.
+
+He asked for a list of prisoners already detained in the various forts.
+The name of l'Abbe Foucquet with those of his niece and nephew attracted
+his immediate attention. He asked for further information respecting
+these people, heard that the boy was a widow's only son, the sole
+supporter of his mother's declining years: the girl was ailing,
+suffering from incipient phthisis, and was blind.
+
+Pardi! the very thing! L'Abbe himself, the friend of Juliette Marny, the
+pathetic personality around which this final adventure of the Scarlet
+Pimpernel was intended to revolve! and these two young people! his
+sister's children! one of them blind and ill, the other full of vigour
+and manhood.
+
+Citizen Chauvelin had soon made up his mind.
+
+A few quick orders to the sergeant of the guard, and l'Abbe Foucquet,
+weak, helpless and gentle, became the relentless jailer who would guard
+Marguerite more securely than a whole regiment of loyal soldiers could
+have done.
+
+Then, having despatched a messenger to the Committee of Public Safety,
+Chauvelin laid himself down to rest. Fate had not deceived him. He
+had thought and schemed and planned, and events had shaped themselves
+exactly as foreseen, and the fact that Marguerite Blakeney was at the
+present moment a prisoner in his hands was merely the result of his own
+calculations.
+
+As for the Scarlet Pimpernel, Chauvelin could not very well conceive
+what he would do under these present circumstances. The duel on the
+southern ramparts had of course become a farce, not likely to be enacted
+now that Marguerite's life was at stake. The daring adventurer was
+caught in a network at last, from which all his ingenuity, all his wit,
+his impudence and his amazing luck could never extricate him.
+
+And in Chauvelin's mind there was still something more. Revenge was the
+sweetest emotion his bruised and humbled pride could know: he had not
+yet tasted its complete intoxicating joy: but every hour now his cup of
+delight became more and more full: in a few days it would overflow.
+
+In the meanwhile he was content to wait. The hours sped by and there
+was no news yet of that elusive Pimpernel. Of Marguerite he knew nothing
+save that she was well guarded; the sentry who passed up and down
+outside room No. 6 had heard her voice and that of the Abbe Foucquet, in
+the course of the afternoon.
+
+Chauvelin had asked the Committee of Public Safety for aid in his
+difficult task, but forty-eight hours at least must elapse before such
+aid could reach him. Forty-eight hours, during which the hand of an
+assassin might be lurking for him, and might even reach him ere his
+vengeance was fully accomplished.
+
+That was the only thought which really troubled him. He did not want to
+die before he had seen the Scarlet Pimpernel a withered abject creature,
+crushed in fame and honour, too debased to find glorification even in
+death.
+
+At this moment he only cared for his life because it was needed for the
+complete success of his schemes. No one else he knew would have that
+note of personal hatred towards the enemy of France which was necessary
+now in order to carry out successfully the plans which he had formed.
+
+Robespierre and all the others only desired the destruction of a man who
+had intrigued against the reign of terror which they had established;
+his death on the guillotine, even if it were surrounded with the halo
+of martyrdom, would have satisfied them completely. Chauvelin looked
+further than that. He hated the man! He had suffered humiliation through
+him individually. He wished to see him as an object of contempt rather
+than of pity. And because of the anticipation of this joy, he was
+careful of his life, and throughout those two days which elapsed
+between the capture of Marguerite and the arrival of Collot d'Herbois at
+Boulogne, Chauvelin never left his quarters at the Hotel de Ville, and
+requisitioned a special escort consisting of proved soldiers of the town
+guard to attend his every footstep.
+
+On the evening of the 22nd, after the arrival of Citizen Collot in
+Boulogne, he gave orders that the woman from No. 6 cell be brought
+before him in the ground floor room of the Fort Gayole.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXII: Not Death
+
+
+
+Two days of agonizing suspense, of alternate hope and despair, had told
+heavily on Marguerite Blakeney.
+
+Her courage was still indomitable, her purpose firm and her faith
+secure, but she was without the slightest vestige of news, entirely shut
+off from the outside world, left to conjecture, to scheme, to expect and
+to despond alone.
+
+The Abbe Foucquet had tried in his gentle way to be of comfort to her,
+and she in her turn did her very best not to render his position more
+cruel than it already was.
+
+A message came to him twice during those forty-eight hours from Francois
+and Felicite, a little note scribbled by the boy, or a token sent by the
+blind girl, to tell the Abbe that the children were safe and well, that
+they would be safe and well so long as the Citizeness with the name
+unknown remained closely guarded by him in room No. 6.
+
+When these messages came, the old man would sigh and murmur something
+about the good God: and hope, which perhaps had faintly risen in
+Marguerite's heart within the last hour or so, would once more sink back
+into the abyss of uttermost despair.
+
+Outside the monotonous walk of the sentry sounded like the perpetual
+thud of a hammer beating upon her bruised temples.
+
+"What's to be done? My God? what's to be done?"
+
+Where was Percy now?
+
+"How to reach him!... Oh, God! grant me light!"
+
+The one real terror which she felt was that she would go mad. Nay! that
+she was in a measure mad already. For hours now,--or was it days?... or
+years?... she had heard nothing save that rhythmic walk of the sentinel,
+and the kindly, tremulous voice of the Abbe whispering consolations,
+or murmuring prayers in her ears, she had seen nothing save that prison
+door, of rough deal, painted a dull grey, with great old-fashioned lock,
+and hinges rusty with the damp of ages.
+
+She had kept her eyes fixed on that door until they burned and ached
+with well-nigh intolerable pain; yet she felt that she could not look
+elsewhere, lest she missed the golden moment when the bolts would be
+drawn, and that dull, grey door would swing slowly on its rusty hinges.
+
+Surely, surely, that was the commencement of madness!
+
+Yet for Percy's sake, because he might want her, because he might have
+need of her courage and of her presence of mind, she tried to keep her
+wits about her. But it was difficult! oh! terribly difficult! especially
+when the shade of evening began to gather in, and peopled the squalid,
+whitewashed room with innumerable threatening ghouls.
+
+Then when the moon came up, a silver ray crept in through the tiny
+window and struck full upon that grey door, making it look weird and
+spectral like the entrance to a house of ghosts.
+
+Even now as there was a distinct sound of the pushing of bolts and bars,
+Marguerite thought that she was the prey of hallucinations. The Abbe
+Foucquet was sitting in the remote and darkest corner of the room,
+quietly telling his beads. His serene philosophy and gentle placidity
+could in no way be disturbed by the opening or shutting of a door, or by
+the bearer of good or evil tidings.
+
+The room now seemed strangely gloomy and cavernous, with those deep,
+black shadows all around and that white ray of the moon which struck so
+weirdly on the door.
+
+Marguerite shuddered with one of those unaccountable premonitions of
+something evil about to come, which ofttimes assail those who have a
+nervous and passionate temperament.
+
+The door swung slowly open upon its hinges: there was a quick word of
+command, and the light of a small oil lamp struck full into the gloom.
+Vaguely Marguerite discerned a group of men, soldiers no doubt, for
+there was a glint of arms and the suggestion of tricolour cockades and
+scarves. One of the men was holding the lamp aloft, another took a few
+steps forward into the room. He turned to Marguerite, entirely ignoring
+the presence of the old priest, and addressed her peremptorily.
+
+"Your presence is desired by the citizen governor," he said curtly;
+"stand up and follow me."
+
+"Whither am I to go?" she asked.
+
+"To where my men will take you. Now then, quick's the word. The citizen
+governor does not like to wait."
+
+At a word of command from him, two more soldiers now entered the room
+and placed themselves one on each side of Marguerite, who, knowing that
+resistance was useless, had already risen and was prepared to go.
+
+The Abbe tried to utter a word of protest and came quickly forward
+towards Marguerite, but he was summarily and very roughly pushed aside.
+
+"Now then, calotin," said the first soldier with an oath, "this is none
+of your business. Forward! march!" he added, addressing his men, "and
+you, Citizeness, will find it wiser to come quietly along and not to
+attempt any tricks with me, or the gag and manacles will have to be
+used."
+
+But Marguerite had no intention of resisting. She was too tired even to
+wonder as to what they meant to do with her or whither they were going;
+she moved as in a dream and felt a hope within her that she was being
+led to death: summary executions were the order of the day, she knew
+that, and sighed for this simple solution of the awful problem which had
+been harassing her these past two days.
+
+She was being led along a passage, stumbling ever and anon as she
+walked, for it was but dimly lighted by the same little oil lamp, which
+one of the soldiers was carrying in front, holding it high up above his
+head: then they went down a narrow flight of stone steps, until she and
+her escort reached a heavy oak door.
+
+A halt was ordered at this point: and the man in command of the little
+party pushed the door open and walked in. Marguerite caught sight of
+a room beyond, dark and gloomy-looking, as was her own prison cell.
+Somewhere on the left there was obviously a window; she could not see
+it but guessed that it was there because the moon struck full upon the
+floor, ghost-like and spectral, well fitting in with the dream-like
+state in which Marguerite felt herself to be.
+
+In the centre of the room she could discern a table with a chair close
+beside it, also a couple of tallow candles, which flickered in the
+draught caused no doubt by that open window which she could not see.
+
+All these little details impressed themselves on Marguerite's mind, as
+she stood there, placidly waiting until she should once more be told to
+move along. The table, the chair, that unseen window, trivial objects
+though they were, assumed before her overwrought fancy an utterly
+disproportionate importance. She caught herself presently counting up
+the number of boards visible on the floor, and watching the smoke of the
+tallow-candles rising up towards the grimy ceiling.
+
+After a few minutes' weary waiting which seemed endless to Marguerite,
+there came a short word of command from within and she was roughly
+pushed forward into the room by one of the men. The cool air of a late
+September's evening gently fanned her burning temples. She looked round
+her and now perceived that someone was sitting at the table, the other
+side of the tallow-candles--a man, with head bent over a bundle of
+papers and shading his face against the light with his hand.
+
+He rose as she approached, and the flickering flame of the candles
+played weirdly upon the slight, sable-clad figure, illumining the keen,
+ferret-like face, and throwing fitful gleams across the deep-set eyes
+and the narrow, cruel mouth.
+
+It was Chauvelin.
+
+Mechanically Marguerite took the chair which the soldier drew towards
+her, ordering her curtly to sit down. She seemed to have but
+little power to move. Though all her faculties had suddenly become
+preternaturally alert at sight of this man, whose very life now was
+spent in doing her the most grievous wrong that one human being can do
+to another, yet all these faculties were forcefully centred in the one
+mighty effort not to flinch before him, not to let him see for a moment
+that she was afraid.
+
+She compelled her eyes to look at him fully and squarely, her lips not
+to tremble, her very heart to stop its wild, excited beating. She felt
+his keen eyes fixed intently upon her, but more in curiosity than in
+hatred or satisfied vengeance.
+
+When she had sat down he came round the table and moved towards her.
+When he drew quite near, she instinctively recoiled. It had been an
+almost imperceptible action on her part and certainly an involuntary
+one, for she did not wish to betray a single thought or emotion, until
+she knew what he wished to say.
+
+But he had noted her movement--a sort of drawing up and stiffening of
+her whole person as he approached. He seemed pleased to see it, for
+he smiled sarcastically but with evident satisfaction, and--as if his
+purpose was now accomplished--he immediately withdrew and went back to
+his former seat on the other side of the table. After that he ordered
+the soldiers to go.
+
+"But remain at attention outside, you and your men," he added, "ready to
+enter if I call."
+
+It was Marguerite's turn to smile at this obvious sign of a lurking fear
+on Chauvelin's part, and a line of sarcasm and contempt curled her full
+lips.
+
+The soldiers having obeyed and the oak door having closed upon them,
+Marguerite was now alone with the man whom she hated and loathed beyond
+every living thing on earth.
+
+She wondered when he would begin to speak and why he had sent for her.
+But he seemed in no hurry to begin. Still shading his face with his
+hand, he was watching her with utmost attention: she, on the other hand,
+was looking through and beyond him, with contemptuous indifference, as
+if his presence here did not interest her in the least.
+
+She would give him no opening for this conversation which he had
+sought and which she felt would prove either purposeless or else deeply
+wounding to her heart and to her pride. She sat, therefore, quite still
+with the flickering and yellow light fully illumining her delicate face,
+with its child-like curves, and delicate features, the noble, straight
+brow, the great blue eyes and halo of golden hair.
+
+"My desire to see you here to-night, must seem strange to you, Lady
+Blakeney," said Chauvelin at last.
+
+Then, as she did not reply, he continued, speaking quite gently, almost
+deferentially:
+
+"There are various matters of grave importance, which the events of the
+next twenty-four hours will reveal to your ladyship: and believe me
+that I am actuated by motives of pure friendship towards you in this
+my effort to mitigate the unpleasantness of such news as you might hear
+to-morrow perhaps, by giving you due warning of what its nature might
+be."
+
+She turned great questioning eyes upon him, and in their expression she
+tried to put all the contempt which she felt, all the bitterness, all
+the defiance and the pride.
+
+He quietly shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Ah! I fear me," he said, "that your ladyship, as usual doth me grievous
+wrong. It is but natural that you should misjudge me, yet believe me..."
+
+"A truce on this foolery, M. Chauvelin," she broke in, with sudden
+impatient vehemence, "pray leave your protestations of friendship and
+courtesy alone, there is no one here to hear them. I pray you proceed
+with what you have to say."
+
+"Ah!" It was a sigh of satisfaction on the part of Chauvelin. Her
+anger and impatience even at this early stage of the interview proved
+sufficiently that her icy restraint was only on the surface.
+
+And Chauvelin always knew how to deal with vehemence. He loved to play
+with the emotions of a passionate fellow-creature: it was only the
+imperturbable calm of a certain enemy of his that was wont to shake his
+own impenetrable armour of reserve.
+
+"As your ladyship desires," he said, with a slight and ironical bow of
+the head. "But before proceeding according to your wish, I am compelled
+to ask your ladyship just one question."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"Have you reflected what your present position means to that inimitable
+prince of dandies, Sir Percy Blakeney?"
+
+"Is it necessary for your present purpose, Monsieur, that you should
+mention my husband's name at all?" she asked.
+
+"It is indispensable, fair lady," he replied suavely, "for is not the
+fate of your husband so closely intertwined with yours, that his actions
+will inevitably be largely influenced by your own."
+
+Marguerite gave a start of surprise, and as Chauvelin had paused she
+tried to read what hidden meaning lay behind these last words of his.
+Was it his intention then to propose some bargain, one of those terrible
+"either-or's" of which he seemed to possess the malignant secret? Oh!
+if that was so, if indeed he had sent for her in order to suggest one of
+those terrible alternatives of his, then--be it what it may, be it the
+wildest conception which the insane brain of a fiend could invent, she
+would accept it, so long as the man she loved were given one single
+chance of escape.
+
+Therefore she turned to her arch-enemy in a more conciliatory spirit
+now, and even endeavoured to match her own diplomatic cunning against
+his.
+
+"I do not understand," she said tentatively. "How can my actions
+influence those of my husband? I am a prisoner in Boulogne: he probably
+is not aware of that fact yet and..."
+
+"Sir Percy Blakeney may be in Boulogne at any moment now," he
+interrupted quietly. "An I mistake not, few places can offer such great
+attractions to that peerless gentleman of fashion than doth this humble
+provincial town of France just at this present.... Hath it not the
+honour of harbouring Lady Blakeney within its gates?... And your
+ladyship may indeed believe me when I say that the day that Sir Percy
+lands in our hospitable port, two hundred pairs of eyes will be fixed
+upon him, lest he should wish to quit it again."
+
+"And if there were two thousand, sir," she said impulsively, "they would
+not stop his coming or going as he pleased."
+
+"Nay, fair lady," he said, with a smile, "are you then endowing Sir
+Percy Blakeney with the attributes which, as popular fancy has it,
+belong exclusively to that mysterious English hero, the Scarlet
+Pimpernel?"
+
+"A truce to your diplomacy, Monsieur Chauvelin," she retorted, goaded by
+his sarcasm, "why should we try to fence with one another? What was the
+object of your journey to England? of the farce which you enacted in
+my house, with the help of the woman Candeille? of that duel and
+that challenge, save that you desired to entice Sir Percy Blakeney to
+France?"
+
+"And also his charming wife," he added with an ironical bow.
+
+She bit her lip, and made no comment.
+
+"Shall we say that I succeeded admirably?" he continued, speaking with
+persistent urbanity and calm, "and that I have strong cause to hope that
+the elusive Pimpernel will soon be a guest on our friendly shores?...
+There! you see I too have laid down the foils.... As you say, why should
+we fence? Your ladyship is now in Boulogne, soon Sir Percy will come to
+try and take you away from us, but believe me, fair lady, that it would
+take more than the ingenuity and the daring of the Scarlet Pimpernel
+magnified a thousandfold to get him back to England again... unless..."
+
+"Unless?..."
+
+Marguerite held her breath. She felt now as if the whole universe must
+stand still during the next supreme moment, until she had heard what
+Chauvelin's next words would be.
+
+There was to be an "unless" then? An "either-or" more terrible no doubt
+than the one he had formulated before her just a year ago.
+
+Chauvelin, she knew, was past master in the art of putting a knife at
+his victim's throat and of giving it just the necessary twist with his
+cruel and relentless "unless"!
+
+But she felt quite calm, because her purpose was resolute. There is no
+doubt that during this agonizing moment of suspense she was absolutely
+firm in her determination to accept any and every condition which
+Chauvelin would put before her as the price of her husband's safety.
+After all, these conditions, since he placed them before HER, could
+resolve themselves into questions of her own life against her husband's.
+
+With that unreasoning impulse which was one of her most salient
+characteristics, she never paused to think that, to Chauvelin, her own
+life or death were only the means to the great end which he had in view:
+the complete annihilation of the Scarlet Pimpernel.
+
+That end could only be reached by Percy Blakeney's death--not by her
+own.
+
+Even now as she was watching him with eyes glowing and lips tightly
+closed, lest a cry of impatient agony should escape her throat,
+he,--like a snail that has shown its slimy horns too soon, and is not
+ready to face the enemy as yet,--seemed suddenly to withdraw within his
+former shell of careless suavity. The earnestness of his tone vanished,
+giving place to light and easy conversation, just as if he were
+discussing social topics with a woman of fashion in a Paris
+drawing-room.
+
+"Nay!" he said pleasantly, "is not your ladyship taking this matter in
+too serious a spirit? Of a truth you repeated my innocent word 'unless'
+even as if I were putting knife at your dainty throat. Yet I meant
+naught that need disturb you yet. Have I not said that I am your friend?
+Let me try and prove it to you."
+
+"You will find that a difficult task, Monsieur," she said drily.
+
+"Difficult tasks always have had a great fascination for your humble
+servant. May I try?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Shall we then touch at the root of this delicate matter? Your ladyship,
+so I understand, is at this moment under the impression that I desire
+to encompass--shall I say?--the death of an English gentleman for whom,
+believe me, I have the greatest respect. That is so, is it not?"
+
+"What is so, M. Chauvelin?" she asked almost stupidly, for truly she had
+not even begun to grasp his meaning. "I do not understand."
+
+"You think that I am at this moment taking measures for sending the
+Scarlet Pimpernel to the guillotine? Eh?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Never was so great an error committed by a clever woman. Your ladyship
+must believe me when I say that the guillotine is the very last place
+in the world where I would wish to see that enigmatic and elusive
+personage."
+
+"Are you trying to fool me, M. Chauvelin? If so, for what purpose? And
+why do you lie to me like that?"
+
+"On my honour, 'tis the truth. The death of Sir Percy Blakeney--I may
+call him that, may I not?--would ill suit the purpose which I have in
+view."
+
+"What purpose? You must pardon me, Monsieur Chauvelin," she added with
+a quick, impatient sigh, "but of a truth I am getting confused, and my
+wits must have become dull in the past few days. I pray to you to add
+to your many protestations of friendship a little more clearness in your
+speech and, if possible, a little more brevity. What then is the purpose
+which you had in view when you enticed my husband to come over to
+France?"
+
+"My purpose was the destruction of the Scarlet Pimpernel, not the death
+of Sir Percy Blakeney. Believe me, I have a great regard for Sir Percy.
+He is a most accomplished gentleman, witty, brilliant, an inimitable
+dandy. Why should he not grace with his presence the drawing-rooms of
+London or of Brighton for many years to come?"
+
+She looked at him with puzzled inquiry. For one moment the thought
+flashed through her mind that, after all, Chauvelin might be still in
+doubt as to the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel.... But no! that hope
+was madness.... It was preposterous and impossible.... But then, why?
+why? why?... Oh God! for a little more patience!
+
+"What I have just said may seem a little enigmatic to your ladyship," he
+continued blandly, "but surely so clever a woman as yourself, so great
+a lady as is the wife of Sir Percy Blakeney, Baronet, will be aware
+that there are other means of destroying an enemy than the taking of his
+life."
+
+"For instance, Monsieur Chauvelin?"
+
+"There is the destruction of his honour," he replied slowly.
+
+A long, bitter laugh, almost hysterical in its loud outburst, broke from
+the very depths of Marguerite's convulsed heart.
+
+"The destruction of his honour!... ha! ha! ha! ha!... of a truth,
+Monsieur Chauvelin, your inventive powers have led you beyond the bounds
+of dreamland!... Ha! ha! ha! ha!... It is in the land of madness
+that you are wandering, sir, when you talk in one breath of Sir Percy
+Blakeney and the possible destruction of his honour!"
+
+But he remained apparently quite unruffled, and when her laughter had
+somewhat subsided, he said placidly:
+
+"Perhaps!..."
+
+Then he rose from his chair, and once more approached her. This time she
+did not shrink from him. The suggestion which he had made just now, this
+talk of attacking her husband's honour rather than his life, seemed so
+wild and preposterous--the conception truly of a mind unhinged--that she
+looked upon it as a sign of extreme weakness on his part, almost as an
+acknowledgement of impotence.
+
+But she watched him as he moved round the table more in curiosity now
+than in fright. He puzzled her, and she still had a feeling at the back
+of her mind that there must be something more definite and more evil
+lurking at the back of that tortuous brain.
+
+"Will your ladyship allow me to conduct you to yonder window?" he said,
+"the air is cool, and what I have to say can best be done in sight of
+yonder sleeping city."
+
+His tone was one of perfect courtesy, even of respectful deference
+through which not the slightest trace of sarcasm could be discerned, and
+she, still actuated by curiosity and interest, not in any way by fear,
+quietly rose to obey him. Though she ignored the hand which he was
+holding out towards her, she followed him readily enough as he walked up
+to the window.
+
+All through this agonizing and soul-stirring interview she had felt
+heavily oppressed by the close atmosphere of the room, rendered nauseous
+by the evil smell of the smoky tallow-candles which were left to spread
+their grease and smoke abroad unchecked. Once or twice she had gazed
+longingly towards the suggestion of pure air outside.
+
+Chauvelin evidently had still much to say to her: the torturing, mental
+rack to which she was being subjected had not yet fully done its work.
+It still was capable of one or two turns, a twist or so which might
+succeed in crushing her pride and her defiance. Well! so be it! she
+was in the man's power: had placed herself therein through her own
+unreasoning impulse. This interview was but one of the many soul-agonies
+which she had been called upon to endure, and if by submitting to it all
+she could in a measure mitigate her own faults and be of help to the
+man she loved, she would find the sacrifice small and the mental torture
+easy to bear.
+
+Therefore when Chauvelin beckoned to her to draw near, she went up to
+the window, and leaning her head against the deep stone embrasure, she
+looked out into the night.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXIII The Hostage
+
+
+
+Chauvelin, without speaking, extended his hand out towards the city as
+if to invite Marguerite to gaze upon it.
+
+She was quite unconscious what hour of the night it might be, but it
+must have been late, for the little town, encircled by the stony arms
+of its forts, seemed asleep. The moon, now slowly sinking in the west,
+edged the towers and spires with filmy lines of silver. To the right
+Marguerite caught sight of the frowning Beffroi, which even as she gazed
+out began tolling its heavy bell. It sounded like the tocsin, dull and
+muffled. After ten strokes it was still.
+
+Ten o'clock! At this hour in far-off England, in fashionable London, the
+play was just over, crowds of gaily dressed men and women poured out of
+the open gates of the theatres calling loudly for attendant or chaise.
+Thence to balls or routs, gaily fluttering like so many butterflies,
+brilliant and irresponsible....
+
+And in England also, in the beautiful gardens of her Richmond home,
+ofttimes at ten o'clock she had wandered alone with Percy, when he was
+at home, and the spirit of adventure in him momentarily laid to rest.
+Then, when the night was very dark and the air heavy with the scent of
+roses and lilies, she lay quiescent in his arms in that little arbour
+beside the river. The rhythmic lapping of the waves was the only sound
+that stirred the balmy air. He seldom spoke then, for his voice would
+shake whenever he uttered a word: but his impenetrable armour of
+flippancy was pierced through and he did not speak because his lips were
+pressed to hers, and his love had soared beyond the domain of speech.
+
+A shudder of intense mental pain went through her now as she gazed on
+the sleeping city, and sweet memories of the past turned to bitterness
+in this agonizing present. One by one as the moon gradually disappeared
+behind a bank of clouds, the towers of Boulogne were merged in the
+gloom. In front of her far, far away, beyond the flat sand dunes, the
+sea seemed to be calling to her with a ghostly and melancholy moan.
+
+The window was on the ground floor of the Fort, and gave direct onto the
+wide and shady walk which runs along the crest of the city walls; from
+where she stood Marguerite was looking straight along the ramparts, some
+thirty metres wide at this point, flanked on either side by the granite
+balustrade, and adorned with a double row of ancient elms stunted and
+twisted into grotesque shapes by the persistent action of the wind.
+
+"These wide ramparts are a peculiarity of this city..." said a voice
+close to her ear, "at times of peace they form an agreeable promenade
+under the shade of the trees, and a delightful meeting-place for
+lovers... or enemies...."
+
+The sound brought her back to the ugly realities of the present: the
+rose-scented garden at Richmond, the lazily flowing river, the tender
+memories which for that brief moment had confronted her from out a happy
+past, suddenly vanished from her ken. Instead of these the brine-laden
+sea-air struck her quivering nostrils, the echo of the old Beffroi died
+away in her ear, and now from out one of the streets or open places of
+the sleeping city there came the sound of a raucous voice, shooting in
+monotonous tones a string of words, the meaning of which failed to reach
+her brain.
+
+Not many feet below the window, the southern ramparts of the town
+stretched away into the darkness. She felt unaccountably cold suddenly
+as she looked down upon them and, with aching eyes, tried to pierce the
+gloom. She was shivering in spite of the mildness of this early
+autumnal night: her overwrought fancy was peopling the lonely walls
+with unearthly shapes strolling along, discussing in spectral language a
+strange duel which was to take place here between a noted butcher of men
+and a mad Englishman overfond of adventure.
+
+The ghouls seemed to pass and repass along in front of her and to be
+laughing audibly because that mad Englishman had been offered his life
+in exchange for his honour. They laughed and laughed, no doubt because
+he refused the bargain--Englishmen were always eccentric, and in these
+days of equality and other devices of a free and glorious revolution,
+honour was such a very marketable commodity that it seemed ridiculous to
+prize it quite so highly. Then they strolled away again and disappeared,
+whilst Marguerite distinctly heard the scrunching of the path beneath
+their feet. She leant forward to peer still further into the darkness,
+for this sound had seemed so absolutely real, but immediately a
+detaining hand was place upon her arm and a sarcastic voice murmured at
+her elbow:
+
+"The result, fair lady, would only be a broken leg or arm; the height is
+not great enough for picturesque suicides, and believe me these ramparts
+are only haunted by ghosts."
+
+She drew back as if a viper had stung her; for the moment she had become
+oblivious of Chauvelin's presence. However, she would not take notice
+of his taunt, and, after a slight pause, he asked her if she could hear
+the town crier over in the public streets.
+
+"Yes," she replied.
+
+"What he says at this present moment is of vast importance to your
+ladyship," he remarked drily.
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Your ladyship is a precious hostage. We are taking measures to guard
+our valuable property securely."
+
+Marguerite thought of the Abbe Foucquet, who no doubt was still quietly
+telling his beads, even if in his heart he had begun to wonder what had
+become of her. She thought of Francois, who was the breadwinner, and of
+Felicite, who was blind.
+
+"Methinks you and your colleagues have done that already," she said.
+
+"Not as completely as we would wish. We know the daring of the Scarlet
+Pimpernel. We are not even ashamed to admit that we fear his luck, his
+impudence and his marvellous ingenuity.... Have I not told you that I
+have the greatest possible respect for that mysterious English hero....
+An old priest and two young children might be spirited away by that
+enigmatical adventurer, even whilst Lady Blakeney herself is made to
+vanish from our sight."
+
+"Ah! I see your ladyship is taking my simple words as a confession
+of weakness," he continued, noting the swift sigh of hope which had
+involuntarily escaped her lips. "Nay! and it please you, you shall
+despise me for it. But a confession of weakness is the first sign of
+strength. The Scarlet Pimpernel is still at large, and whilst we guard
+our hostage securely, he is bound to fall into our hands."
+
+"Aye! still at large!" she retorted with impulsive defiance. "Think
+you that all your bolts and bars, the ingenuity of yourself and your
+colleagues, the collaboration of the devil himself, would succeed in
+outwitting the Scarlet Pimpernel, now that his purpose will be to try
+and drag ME from out your clutches."
+
+She felt hopeful and proud. Now that she had the pure air of heaven in
+her lungs, that from afar she could smell the sea, and could feel
+that perhaps in a straight line of vision from where she stood, the
+"Day-Dream" with Sir Percy on board, might be lying out there in the
+roads, it seemed impossible that he should fail in freeing her and those
+poor people--an old man and two children--whose lives depended on her
+own.
+
+But Chauvelin only laughed a dry, sarcastic laugh and said:
+
+"Hm! perhaps not!... It of course will depend on you and your
+personality... your feelings in such matters... and whether an English
+gentleman likes to save his own skin at the expense of others."
+
+Marguerite shivered as if from cold.
+
+"Ah! I see," resumed Chauvelin quietly, "that your ladyship has not
+quite grasped the position. That public crier is a long way off: the
+words have lingered on the evening breeze and have failed to reach your
+brain. Do you suppose that I and my colleagues do not know that all the
+ingenuity of which the Scarlet Pimpernel is capable will now be directed
+in piloting Lady Blakeney, and incidentally the Abbe Foucquet with his
+nephew and niece, safely across the Channel! Four people!... Bah! a
+bagatelle, for this mighty conspirator, who but lately snatched twenty
+aristocrats from the prisons of Lyons.... Nay! nay! two children and
+an old man were not enough to guard our precious hostage, and I was not
+thinking of either the Abbe Foucquet or of the two children, when I
+said that an English gentleman would not save himself at the expense of
+others."
+
+"Of whom then were you thinking, Monsieur Chauvelin? Whom else have you
+set to guard the prize which you value so highly?"
+
+"The whole city of Boulogne," he replied simply.
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"Let me make my point clear. My colleague, Citizen Collot d'Herbois,
+rode over from Paris yesterday; like myself he is a member of the
+Committee of Public Safety whose duty it is to look after the welfare
+of France by punishing all those who conspire against her laws and the
+liberties of the people. Chief among these conspirators, whom it is our
+duty to punish is, of course, that impudent adventurer who calls himself
+the Scarlet Pimpernel. He has given the government of France a great
+deal of trouble through his attempts--mostly successful, as I have
+already admitted,--at frustrating the just vengeance which an oppressed
+country has the right to wreak on those who have proved themselves to be
+tyrants and traitors."
+
+"Is it necessary to recapitulate all this, Monsieur Chauvelin?" she
+asked impatiently.
+
+"I think so," he replied blandly. "You see, my point is this. We feel
+that in a measure now the Scarlet Pimpernel is in our power. Within the
+next few hours he will land at Boulogne... Boulogne, where he has agreed
+to fight a duel with me... Boulogne, where Lady Blakeney happens to
+be at this present moment... as you see, Boulogne has a great
+responsibility to bear: just now she is to a certain extent the proudest
+city in France, since she holds within her gates a hostage for the
+appearance on our shores of her country's most bitter enemy. But she
+must not fall from that high estate. Her double duty is clear before
+her: she must guard Lady Blakeney and capture the Scarlet Pimpernel;
+if she fail in the former she must be punished, if she succeed in the
+latter she shall be rewarded."
+
+He paused and leaned out of the window again, whilst she watched him,
+breathless and terrified. She was beginning to understand.
+
+"Hark!" he said, looking straight at her. "Do you hear the crier now? He
+is proclaiming the punishment and the reward. He is making it clear
+to the citizens of Boulogne that on the day when the Scarlet Pimpernel
+falls into the hands of the Committee of Public Safety a general amnesty
+will be granted to all natives of Boulogne who are under arrest at the
+present time, and a free pardon to all those who, born within these
+city walls, are to-day under sentence of death.... A noble reward, eh?
+well-deserved you'll admit.... Should you wonder then if the whole town
+of Boulogne were engaged just now in finding that mysterious hero, and
+delivering him into our hands?... How many mothers, sisters, wives,
+think you, at the present moment, would fail to lay hands on the English
+adventurer, if a husband's or a son's life or freedom happened to be
+at stake?... I have some records there," he continued, pointing in the
+direction of the table, "which tell me that there are five and thirty
+natives of Boulogne in the local prisons, a dozen more in the prisons
+of Paris; of these at least twenty have been tried already and are
+condemned to death. Every hour that the Scarlet Pimpernel succeeds in
+evading his captors so many deaths lie at his door. If he succeeds in
+once more reaching England safely three score lives mayhap will be the
+price of his escape.... Nay! but I see your ladyship is shivering with
+cold..." he added with a dry little laugh, "shall I close the window? or
+do you wish to hear what punishment will be meted out to Boulogne, if on
+the day that the Scarlet Pimpernel is captured, Lady Blakeney happens to
+have left the shelter of these city walls?"
+
+"I pray you proceed, Monsieur," she rejoined with perfect calm.
+
+"The Committee of Public Safety," he resumed, "would look upon this city
+as a nest of traitors if on the day that the Scarlet Pimpernel becomes
+our prisoner Lady Blakeney herself, the wife of that notorious English
+spy, had already quitted Boulogne. The whole town knows by now that you
+are in our hands--you, the most precious hostage we can hold for the
+ultimate capture of the man whom we all fear and detest. Virtually the
+town-crier is at the present moment proclaiming to the inhabitants of
+this city: 'We want that man, but we already have his wife, see to it,
+citizens, that she does not escape! for if she do, we shall summarily
+shoot the breadwinner in every family in the town!'"
+
+A cry of horror escaped Marguerite's parched lips.
+
+"Are you devils then, all of you," she gasped, "that you should think of
+such things?"
+
+"Aye! some of us are devils, no doubt," said Chauvelin drily; "but why
+should you honour us in this case with so flattering an epithet? We are
+mere men striving to guard our property and mean no harm to the citizens
+of Boulogne. We have threatened them, true! but is it not for you
+and that elusive Pimpernel to see that the threat is never put into
+execution?"
+
+"You would not do it!" she repeated, horror-stricken.
+
+"Nay! I pray you, fair lady, do not deceive yourself. At present the
+proclamation sounds like a mere threat, I'll allow, but let me assure
+you that if we fail to capture the Scarlet Pimpernel and if you on
+the other hand are spirited out of this fortress by that mysterious
+adventurer we shall undoubtedly shoot or guillotine every able-bodied
+man and woman in this town."
+
+He had spoken quietly and emphatically, neither with bombast, nor with
+rage, and Marguerite saw in his face nothing but a calm and ferocious
+determination, the determination of an entire nation embodied in this
+one man, to be revenged at any cost. She would not let him see the depth
+of her despair, nor would she let him read in her face the unutterable
+hopelessness which filled her soul. It were useless to make an appeal
+to him: she knew full well that from him she could obtain neither
+gentleness nor mercy.
+
+"I hope at last I have made the situation quite clear to your ladyship?"
+he was asking quite pleasantly now. "See how easy is your position: you
+have but to remain quiescent in room No. 6, and if any chance of escape
+be offered you ere the Scarlet Pimpernel is captured, you need but to
+think of all the families of Boulogne, who would be deprived of their
+breadwinner--fathers and sons mostly, but there are girls too, who
+support their mothers or sisters; the fish curers of Boulogne are mostly
+women, and there are the net-makers and the seamstresses, all would
+suffer if your ladyship were no longer to be found in No. 6 room of this
+ancient fort, whilst all would be included in the amnesty if the Scarlet
+Pimpernel fell into our hands..."
+
+He gave a low, satisfied chuckle which made Marguerite think of the evil
+spirits in hell exulting over the torments of unhappy lost souls.
+
+"I think, Lady Blakeney," he added drily and making her an ironical bow,
+"that your humble servant hath outwitted the elusive hero at last."
+
+Quietly he turned on his heel and went back into the room, Marguerite
+remaining motionless beside the open window, where the soft, brine-laden
+air, the distant murmur of the sea, the occasional cry of a sea-mew, all
+seemed to mock her agonizing despair.
+
+The voice of the town-crier came nearer and nearer now: she could hear
+the words he spoke quite distinctly: something about "amnesty" and
+pardon, the reward for the capture of the Scarlet Pimpernel, the lives
+of men, women and children in exchange for his.
+
+Oh! she knew what all that meant! that Percy would not hesitate one
+single instant to throw his life into the hands of his enemies, in
+exchange for that of others. Others! others! always others! this
+sigh that had made her heart ache so often in England, what terrible
+significance it bore now!
+
+And how he would suffer in his heart and in his pride, because of her
+whom he could not even attempt to save since it would mean the death of
+others! of others, always of others!
+
+She wondered if he had already landed in Boulogne! Again she remembered
+the vision on the landing stage: his massive figure, the glimpse she had
+of the loved form, in the midst of the crowd!
+
+The moment he entered the town he would hear the proclamation read, see
+it posted up no doubt on every public building, and realize that she had
+been foolish enough to follow him, that she was a prisoner and that he
+could do nothing to save her.
+
+What would he do? Marguerite at the thought instinctively pressed her
+hands to her heart, the agony of it all had become physically painful.
+She hoped that perhaps this pain meant approaching death! oh! how easy
+would this simple solution be!
+
+The moon peered out from beneath the bank of clouds which had obscured
+her for so long; smiling, she drew her pencilled silver lines along the
+edge of towers and pinnacles, the frowning Beffroi and those stony walls
+which seemed to Marguerite as if they encircled a gigantic graveyard.
+
+The town-crier had evidently ceased to read the proclamation. One by
+one the windows in the public square were lighted up from within. The
+citizens of Boulogne wanted to think over the strange events which had
+occurred without their knowledge, yet which were apparently to have such
+direful or such joyous consequences for them.
+
+A man to be captured! the mysterious English adventurer of whom they
+had all heard, but whom nobody had seen. And a woman--his wife--to be
+guarded until the man was safely under lock and key.
+
+Marguerite felt as if she could almost hear them talking it over and
+vowing that she should not escape, and that the Scarlet Pimpernel should
+soon be captured.
+
+A gentle wind stirred the old gnarled trees on the southern ramparts, a
+wind that sounded like the sigh of swiftly dying hope.
+
+What could Percy do now? His hands were tied, and he was inevitably
+destined to endure the awful agony of seeing the woman he loved die a
+terrible death beside him.
+
+Having captured him, they would not keep him long; no necessity for a
+trial, for detention, for formalities of any kind. A summary execution
+at dawn on the public place, a roll of drums, a public holiday to mark
+the joyful event, and a brave man will have ceased to live, a noble
+heart have stilled its beatings forever, whilst a whole nation gloried
+over the deed.
+
+"Sleep, citizens of Boulogne! all is still!"
+
+The night watchman had replaced the town-crier. All was quiet within
+the city walls: the inhabitants could sleep in peace, a beneficent
+government was wakeful and guarding their rest.
+
+But many of the windows of the town remained lighted up, and at a little
+distance below her, round the corner so that she could not see it, a
+small crowd must have collected in front of the gateway which led into
+the courtyard of the Gayole Fort. Marguerite could hear a persistent
+murmur of voices, mostly angry and threatening, and once there were loud
+cries of: "English spies," and "a la lanterne!"
+
+"The citizens of Boulogne are guarding the treasures of France!"
+commented Chauvelin drily, as he laughed again, that cruel, mirthless
+laugh of his.
+
+Then she roused herself from her torpor: she did not know how long she
+had stood beside the open window, but the fear seized her that that man
+must have seen and gloated over the agony of her mind. She straightened
+her graceful figure, threw back her proud head defiantly, and quietly
+walked up to the table, where Chauvelin seemed once more absorbed in the
+perusal of his papers.
+
+"Is this interview over?" she asked quietly, and without the slightest
+tremor in her voice. "May I go now?"
+
+"As soon as you wish," he replied with gentle irony.
+
+He regarded her with obvious delight, for truly she was beautiful: grand
+in this attitude of defiant despair. The man, who had spent the last
+half-hour in martyrizing her, gloried over the misery which he had
+wrought, and which all her strength of will could not entirely banish
+from her face.
+
+"Will you believe me, Lady Blakeney?" he added, "that there is no
+personal animosity in my heart towards you or your husband? Have I not
+told you that I do not wish to compass his death?"
+
+"Yet you propose to send him to the guillotine as soon as you have laid
+hands on him."
+
+"I have explained to you the measures which I have taken in order to
+make sure that we DO lay hands on the Scarlet Pimpernel. Once he is in
+our power, it will rest with him to walk to the guillotine or to embark
+with you on board his yacht."
+
+"You propose to place an alternative before Sir Percy Blakeney?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"To offer him his life?"
+
+"And that of his charming wife."
+
+"In exchange for what?"
+
+"His honour."
+
+"He will refuse, Monsieur."
+
+"We shall see."
+
+Then he touched a handbell which stood on the table, and within a few
+seconds the door was opened and the soldier who had led Marguerite
+hither, re-entered the room.
+
+The interview was at an end. It had served its purpose. Marguerite knew
+now that she must not even think of escape for herself, or hope for
+safety for the man she loved. Of Chauvelin's talk of a bargain which
+would touch Percy's honour she would not even think: and she was too
+proud to ask anything further from him.
+
+Chauvelin stood up and made her a deep bow, as she crossed the room and
+finally went out of the door. The little company of soldiers closed in
+around her and she was once more led along the dark passages, back to
+her own prison cell.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXIV: Colleagues
+
+
+
+As soon as the door had closed behind Marguerite, there came from
+somewhere in the room the sound of a yawn, a grunt and a volley of
+oaths.
+
+The flickering light of the tallow candles had failed to penetrate into
+all the corners, and now from out one of these dark depths, a certain
+something began to detach itself, and to move forward towards the table
+at which Chauvelin had once more resumed his seat.
+
+"Has the damned aristocrat gone at last?" queried a hoarse voice, as a
+burly body clad in loose-fitting coat and mud-stained boots and breeches
+appeared within the narrow circle of light.
+
+"Yes," replied Chauvelin curtly.
+
+"And a cursed long time you have been with the baggage," grunted the
+other surlily. "Another five minutes and I'd have taken the matter in my
+own hands.
+
+"An assumption of authority," commented Chauvelin quietly, "to which
+your position here does not entitle you, Citizen Collot."
+
+Collot d'Herbois lounged lazily forward, and presently he threw his
+ill-knit figure into the chair lately vacated by Marguerite. His heavy,
+square face bore distinct traces of the fatigue endured in the past
+twenty-four hours on horseback or in jolting market waggons. His temper
+too appeared to have suffered on the way, and, at Chauvelin's curt and
+dictatorial replies, he looked as surly as a chained dog.
+
+"You were wasting your breath over that woman," he muttered, bringing a
+large and grimy fist heavily down on the table, "and your measures are
+not quite so sound as your fondly imagine, Citizen Chauvelin."
+
+"They were mostly of your imagining, Citizen Collot," rejoined the other
+quietly, "and of your suggestion."
+
+"I added a touch of strength and determination to your mild
+milk-and-water notions, Citizen," snarled Collot spitefully. "I'd have
+knocked that intriguing woman's brains out at the very first possible
+opportunity, had I been consulted earlier than this."
+
+"Quite regardless of the fact that such violent measures would
+completely damn all our chances of success as far as the capture of
+the Scarlet Pimpernel is concerned," remarked Chauvelin drily, with
+a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders. "Once his wife is dead, the
+Englishman will never run his head into the noose which I have so
+carefully prepared for him."
+
+"So you say, Chauvelin; and therefore I suggested to you certain
+measures to prevent the woman escaping which you will find adequate, I
+hope."
+
+"You need have no fear, Citizen Collot," said Chauvelin curtly, "this
+woman will make no attempt at escape now."
+
+"If she does..." and Collot d'Herbois swore an obscene oath.
+
+"I think she understands that we mean to put our threat in execution."
+
+"Threat?... It was no empty threat, Citizen.... Sacre tonnerre! if that
+woman escapes now, by all the devils in hell I swear that I'll wield the
+guillotine myself and cut off the head of every able-bodied man or woman
+in Boulogne, with my own hands."
+
+As he said this his face assumed such an expression of inhuman cruelty,
+such a desire to kill, such a savage lust for blood, that instinctively
+Chauvelin shuddered and shrank away from his colleague. All through
+his career there is no doubt that this man, who was of gentle birth,
+of gentle breeding, and who had once been called M. le Marquis de
+Chauvelin, must have suffered in his susceptibilities and in his pride
+when in contact with the revolutionaries with whom he had chosen to cast
+his lot. He could not have thrown off all his old ideas of refinement
+quite so easily, as to feel happy in the presence of such men as Collot
+d'Herbois, or Marat in his day--men who had become brute beasts, more
+ferocious far than any wild animal, more scientifically cruel than any
+feline prowler in jungle or desert.
+
+One look in Collot's distorted face was sufficient at this moment to
+convince Chauvelin that it were useless for him to view the proclamation
+against the citizens of Boulogne merely as an idle threat, even if he
+had wished to do so. That Marguerite would not, under the circumstances,
+attempt to escape, that Sir Percy Blakeney himself would be forced
+to give up all thoughts of rescuing her, was a foregone conclusion
+in Chauvelin's mind, but if this high-born English gentleman had not
+happened to be the selfless hero that he was, if Marguerite Blakeney
+were cast in a different, a rougher mould--if, in short, the Scarlet
+Pimpernel in the face of the proclamation did succeed in dragging his
+wife out of the clutches of the Terrorists, then it was equally certain
+that Collot d'Herbois would carry out his rabid and cruel reprisals
+to the full. And if in the course of the wholesale butchery of the
+able-bodied and wage-earning inhabitants of Boulogne, the headsman
+should sink worn out, then would this ferocious sucker of blood put his
+own hand to the guillotine, with the same joy and lust which he had
+felt when he ordered one hundred and thirty-eight women of Nantes to
+be stripped naked by the soldiery before they were flung helter-skelter
+into the river.
+
+A touch of strength and determination! Aye! Citizen Collot d'Herbois had
+plenty of that. Was it he, or Carriere who at Arras commanded mothers to
+stand by while their children were being guillotined? And surely it was
+Maignet, Collot's friend and colleague, who at Bedouin, because the Red
+Flag of the Republic had been mysteriously torn down over night, burnt
+the entire little village down to the last hovel and guillotined every
+one of the three hundred and fifty inhabitants.
+
+And Chauvelin knew all that. Nay, more! he was himself a member of that
+so-called government which had countenanced these butcheries, by giving
+unlimited powers to men like Collot, like Maignet and Carriere. He
+was at one with them in their republican ideas and he believed in the
+regeneration and the purification of France, through the medium of the
+guillotine, but he propounded his theories and carried out his most
+bloodthirsty schemes with physically clean hands and in an immaculately
+cut coat.
+
+Even now when Collot d'Herbois lounged before him, with mud-bespattered
+legs stretched out before him, with dubious linen at neck and wrists,
+and an odour of rank tobacco and stale, cheap wine pervading his whole
+personality, the more fastidious man of the world, who had consorted
+with the dandies of London and Brighton, winced at the enforced
+proximity.
+
+But it was the joint characteristic of all these men who had turned
+France into a vast butchery and charnel-house, that they all feared
+and hated one another, even more whole-heartedly than they hated the
+aristocrats and so-called traitors whom they sent to the guillotine.
+Citizen Lebon is said to have dipped his sword into the blood which
+flowed from the guillotine, whilst exclaiming: "Comme je l'aime ce sang
+coule de traitre!" but he and Collot and Danton and Robespierre, all of
+them in fact would have regarded with more delight still the blood of
+any one of their colleagues.
+
+At this very moment Collot d'Herbois and Chauvelin would with utmost
+satisfaction have denounced, one the other, to the tender mercies of the
+Public Prosecutor. Collot made no secret of his hatred for Chauvelin,
+and the latter disguised it but thinly under the veneer of contemptuous
+indifference.
+
+"As for that dammed Englishman," added Collot now, after a slight pause,
+and with another savage oath, "if 'tis my good fortune to lay hands on
+him, I'd shoot him then and there like a mad dog, and rid France once
+and forever of this accursed spy."
+
+"And think you, Citizen Collot," rejoined Chauvelin with a shrug of the
+shoulders, "that France would be rid of all English adventurers by the
+summary death of this one man?"
+
+"He is the ringleader, at any rate..."
+
+"And has at least nineteen disciples to continue his traditions of
+conspiracy and intrigue. None perhaps so ingenuous as himself, none
+with the same daring and good luck perhaps, but still a number of ardent
+fools only too ready to follow in the footsteps of their chief. Then
+there's the halo of martyrdom around the murdered hero, the enthusiasm
+created by his noble death... Nay! nay, Citizen, you have not lived
+among these English people, you do not understand them, or you would not
+talk of sending their popular hero to an honoured grave."
+
+But Collot d'Herbois only shook his powerful frame like some big, sulky
+dog, and spat upon the floor to express his contempt of this wild talk
+which seemed to have no real tangible purpose.
+
+"You have not caught your Scarlet Pimpernel yet, Citizen," he said with
+a snort.
+
+"No, but I will, after sundown to-morrow."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I have ordered the Angelus to be rung at one of the closed churches,
+and he agreed to fight a duel with me on the southern ramparts at that
+hour and on that day," said Chauvelin simply.
+
+"You take him for a fool?" sneered Collot.
+
+"No, only for a foolhardy adventurer."
+
+"You imagine that with his wife as hostage in our hands, and the whole
+city of Boulogne on the lookout for him for the sake of the amnesty,
+that the man would be fool enough to walk on those ramparts at a given
+hour, for the express purpose of getting himself caught by you and your
+men?"
+
+"I am quite sure that if we do not lay hands on him before that given
+hour, that he will be on the ramparts at the Angelus to-morrow," said
+Chauvelin emphatically.
+
+Collot shrugged his broad shoulders.
+
+"Is the man mad?" he asked with an incredulous laugh.
+
+"Yes, I think so," rejoined the other with a smile.
+
+"And having caught your hare," queried Collot, "how do you propose to
+cook him?"
+
+"Twelve picked men will be on the ramparts ready to seize him the moment
+he appears."
+
+"And to shoot him at sight, I hope."
+
+"Only as a last resource, for the Englishman is powerful and may cause
+our half-famished men a good deal of trouble. But I want him alive, if
+possible..."
+
+"Why? a dead lion is safer than a live one any day."
+
+"Oh! we'll kill him right enough, Citizen. I pray you have no fear. I
+hold a weapon ready for that meddlesome Scarlet Pimpernel, which will be
+a thousand times more deadly and more effectual than a chance shot, or
+even a guillotine."
+
+"What weapon is that, Citizen Chauvelin?"
+
+Chauvelin leaned forward across the table and rested his chin in his
+hands; instinctively Collot too leaned towards him, and both men peered
+furtively round them as if wondering if prying eyes happened to be
+lurking round. It was Chauvelin's pale eyes which now gleamed with
+hatred and with an insatiable lust for revenge at least as powerful as
+Collot's lust for blood; the unsteady light of the tallow candles threw
+grotesque shadows across his brows, and his mouth was set in such rigid
+lines of implacable cruelty that the brutish sot beside him gazed on him
+amazed, vaguely scenting here a depth of feeling which was beyond his
+power to comprehend. He repeated his question under his breath:
+
+"What weapon do you mean to use against that accursed spy, Citizen
+Chauvelin?"
+
+"Dishonour and ridicule!" replied the other quietly.
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"In exchange for his life and that of his wife."
+
+"As the woman told you just now... he will refuse."
+
+"We shall see, Citizen."
+
+"You are mad to think such things, Citizen, and ill serve the Republic
+by sparing her bitterest foe."
+
+A long, sarcastic laugh broke from Chauvelin's parted lips.
+
+"Spare him?--spare the Scarlet Pimpernel!..." he ejaculated. "Nay,
+Citizen, you need have no fear of that. But believe me, I have schemes
+in my head by which the man whom we all hate will be more truly
+destroyed than your guillotine could ever accomplish: schemes, whereby
+the hero who is now worshipped in England as a demi-god will suddenly
+become an object of loathing and of contempt.... Ah! I see you
+understand me now... I wish to so cover him with ridicule that the very
+name of the small wayside flower will become a term of derision and of
+scorn. Only then shall we be rid of these pestilential English spies,
+only then will the entire League of the Scarlet Pimpernel become a thing
+of the past when its whilom leader, now thought akin to a god, will have
+found refuge in a suicide's grave, from the withering contempt of the
+entire world."
+
+Chauvelin had spoken low, hardly above a whisper, and the echo of his
+last words died away in the great, squalid room like a long-drawn-out
+sigh. There was dead silence for a while save for the murmur in the
+wind outside and from the floor above the measured tread of the sentinel
+guarding the precious hostage in No. 6.
+
+Both men were staring straight in front of them. Collot d'Herbois
+incredulous, half-contemptuous, did not altogether approve of these
+schemes which seemed to him wild and uncanny: he liked the direct
+simplicity of a summary trial, of the guillotine, or of his own well
+stage-managed "Noyades." He did not feel that any ridicule or dishonour
+would necessarily paralyze a man in his efforts at intrigue, and would
+have liked to set Chauvelin's authority aside, to behead the woman
+upstairs and then to take his chances of capturing the man later on.
+
+But the orders of the Committee of Public Safety had been peremptory: he
+was to be Chauvelin's help--not his master, and to obey in all things.
+He did not dare to take any initiative in the matter, for in that case,
+if he failed, the reprisals against him would indeed be terrible.
+
+He was fairly satisfied now that Chauvelin had accepted his suggestion
+of summarily sending to the guillotine one member of every family
+resident in Boulogne, if Marguerite succeeded in effecting an escape,
+and, of a truth, Chauvelin had hailed the fiendish suggestion with
+delight. The old abbe with his nephew and niece were undoubtedly
+not sufficient deterrents against the daring schemes of the Scarlet
+Pimpernel, who, as a matter of fact, could spirit them out of Boulogne
+just as easily as he would his own wife.
+
+Collot's plan tied Marguerite to her own prison cell more completely
+than any other measure could have done, more so indeed than the
+originator thereof knew or believed.... A man like this d'Herbois--born
+in the gutter, imbued with every brutish tradition, which generations of
+jail-birds had bequeathed to him,--would not perhaps fully realize the
+fact that neither Sir Percy nor Marguerite Blakeney would ever save
+themselves at the expense of others. He had merely made the suggestion,
+because he felt that Chauvelin's plans were complicated and obscure,
+and above all insufficient, and that perhaps after all the English
+adventurer and his wife would succeed in once more outwitting him, when
+there would remain the grand and bloody compensation of a wholesale
+butchery in Boulogne.
+
+But Chauvelin was quite satisfied. He knew that under present
+circumstances neither Sir Percy nor Marguerite would make any attempt to
+escape. The ex-ambassador had lived in England: he understood the class
+to which these two belonged, and was quite convinced that no attempt
+would be made on either side to get Lady Blakeney away whilst the
+present ferocious order against the bread-winner of every family in the
+town held good.
+
+Aye! the measures were sound enough. Chauvelin was easy in his
+mind about that. In another twenty-four hours he would hold the man
+completely in his power who had so boldly outwitted him last year;
+to-night he would sleep in peace: an entire city was guarding the
+precious hostage.
+
+"We'll go to bed now, Citizen," he said to Collot, who, tired and sulky,
+was moodily fingering the papers on the table. The scraping sound which
+he made thereby grated on Chauvelin's overstrung nerves. He wanted to
+be alone, and the sleepy brute's presence here jarred on his own solemn
+mood.
+
+To his satisfaction, Collot grunted a surly assent. Very leisurely he
+rose from his chair, stretched out his loose limbs, shook himself like
+a shaggy cur, and without uttering another word he gave his colleague a
+curt nod, and slowly lounged out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXV: The Unexpected
+
+
+
+Chauvelin heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction when Collot d'Herbois
+finally left him to himself. He listened for awhile until the heavy
+footsteps died away in the distance, then leaning back in his chair, he
+gave himself over to the delights of the present situation.
+
+Marguerite in his power. Sir Percy Blakeney compelled to treat for her
+rescue if he did not wish to see her die a miserable death.
+
+"Aye! my elusive hero," he muttered to himself, "methinks that we shall
+be able to cry quits at last."
+
+Outside everything had become still. Even the wind in the trees out
+there on the ramparts had ceased their melancholy moaning. The man was
+alone with his thoughts. He felt secure and at peace, sure of victory,
+content to await the events of the next twenty-four hours. The other
+side of the door the guard which he had picked out from amongst the more
+feeble and ill-fed garrison of the little city for attendance on his own
+person were ranged ready to respond to his call.
+
+"Dishonour and ridicule! Derision and scorn!" he murmured, gloating
+over the very sound of these words, which expressed all that he hoped to
+accomplish, "utter abjections, then perhaps a suicide's grave..."
+
+He loved the silence around him, for he could murmur these words and
+hear them echoing against the bare stone walls like the whisperings of
+all the spirits of hate which were waiting to lend him their aid.
+
+How long he had remained thus absorbed in his meditations, he could not
+afterwards have said; a minute or two perhaps at most, whilst he leaned
+back in his chair with eyes closed, savouring the sweets of his own
+thoughts, when suddenly the silence was interrupted by a loud and
+pleasant laugh and a drawly voice speaking in merry accents:
+
+"The lud live you, Monsieur Chaubertin, and pray how do you propose to
+accomplish all these pleasant things?"
+
+In a moment Chauvelin was on his feet and with eyes dilated, lips parted
+in awed bewilderment, he was gazing towards the open window, where
+astride upon the sill, one leg inside the room, the other out, and with
+the moon shining full on his suit of delicate- cloth, his wide
+caped coat and elegant chapeau-bras, sat the imperturbable Sir Percy.
+
+"I heard you muttering such pleasant words, Monsieur," continued
+Blakeney calmly, "that the temptation seized me to join in the
+conversation. A man talking to himself is ever in a sorry plight... he
+is either a mad man or a fool..."
+
+He laughed his own quaint and inane laugh and added apologetically:
+
+"Far be if from me, sir, to apply either epithet to you... demmed bad
+form calling another fellow names... just when he does not quite feel
+himself, eh?... You don't feel quite yourself, I fancy just now... eh,
+Monsieur Chauberin... er... beg pardon, Chauvelin..."
+
+He sat there quite comfortably, one slender hand resting on the
+gracefully-fashioned hilt of his sword--the sword of Lorenzo Cenci,--the
+other holding up the gold-rimed eyeglass through which he was regarding
+his avowed enemy; he was dressed as for a ball, and his perpetually
+amiable smile lurked round the corners of his firm lips.
+
+Chauvelin had undoubtedly for the moment lost his presence of mind. He
+did not even think of calling to his picked guard, so completely taken
+aback was he by this unforeseen move on the part of Sir Percy. Yet,
+obviously, he should have been ready for this eventuality. Had he not
+caused the town-crier to loudly proclaim throughout the city that if
+ONE female prisoner escaped from Fort Gayole the entire able-bodied
+population of Boulogne would suffer?
+
+The moment Sir Percy entered the gates of the town, he could not help
+but hear the proclamation, and hear at the same time that this one
+female prisoner who was so precious a charge, was the wife of the
+English spy: the Scarlet Pimpernel.
+
+Moreover, was it not a fact that whenever or wherever the Scarlet
+Pimpernel was least expected there and then would he surely appear?
+Having once realized that it was his wife who was incarcerated in Fort
+Gayole, was it not natural that he would go and prowl around the prison,
+and along the avenue on the summit of the southern ramparts, which was
+accessible to every passer-by? No doubt he had lain in hiding among
+the trees, had perhaps caught snatches of Chauvelin's recent talk with
+Collot.
+
+Aye! it was all so natural, so simple! Strange that it should have been
+so unexpected!
+
+Furious at himself for his momentary stupor, he now made a vigorous
+effort to face his impudent enemy with the same sang-froid of which the
+latter had so inexhaustible a fund.
+
+He walked quietly towards the window, compelling his nerves to perfect
+calm and his mood to indifference. The situation had ceased to astonish
+him; already his keen mind had seen its possibilities, its grimness and
+its humour, and he was quite prepared to enjoy these to the full.
+
+Sir Percy now was dusting the sleeve of his coat with a lace-edged
+handkerchief, but just as Chauvelin was about to come near him, he
+stretched out one leg, turning the point of a dainty boot towards the
+ex-ambassador.
+
+"Would you like to take hold of me by the leg, Monsieur Chaubertin?" he
+said gaily. "'Tis more effectual than a shoulder, and your picked guard
+of six stalwart fellows can have the other leg.... Nay! I pray you,
+sir, do not look at me like that.... I vow that it is myself and not my
+ghost.... But if you still doubt me, I pray you call the guard... ere I
+fly out again towards that fitful moon..."
+
+"Nay, Sir Percy," said Chauvelin, with a steady voice, "I have no
+thought that you will take flight just yet.... Methinks you desire
+conversation with me, or you had not paid me so unexpected a visit."
+
+"Nay, sir, the air is too oppressive for lengthy conversation... I was
+strolling along these ramparts, thinking of our pleasant encounter at
+the hour of the Angelus to-morrow... when this light attracted me....
+feared I had lost my way and climbed the window to obtain information."
+
+"As to your way to the nearest prison cell, Sir Percy?" queried
+Chauvelin drily.
+
+"As to anywhere, where I could sit more comfortably than on this demmed
+sill.... It must be very dusty, and I vow 'tis terribly hard..."
+
+"I presume, Sir Percy, that you did my colleague and myself the honour
+of listening to our conversation?"
+
+"An you desired to talk secrets, Monsieur... er... Chaubertin... you
+should have shut this window... and closed this avenue of trees against
+the chance passer-by."
+
+"What we said was no secret, Sir Percy. It is all over the town
+to-night."
+
+"Quite so... you were only telling the devil your mind... eh?"
+
+"I had also been having conversation with Lady Blakeney.... Pray did you
+hear any of that, sir?"
+
+But Sir Percy had evidently not heard the question, for he seemed quite
+absorbed in the task of removing a speck of dust from his immaculate
+chapeau-bras.
+
+"These hats are all the rage in England just now," he said airily, "but
+they have had their day, do you not think so, Monsieur? When I return
+to town, I shall have to devote my whole mind to the invention of a new
+headgear..."
+
+"When will you return to England, Sir Percy?" queried Chauvelin with
+good-natured sarcasm.
+
+"At the turn of the tide to-morrow eve, Monsieur," replied Blakeney.
+
+"In company with Lady Blakeney?"
+
+"Certainly, sir... and yours if you will honour us with your company."
+
+"If you return to England to-morrow, Sir Percy, Lady Blakeney, I fear
+me, cannot accompany you."
+
+"You astonish me, sir," rejoined Blakeney with an exclamation of genuine
+and unaffected surprise. "I wonder now what would prevent her?"
+
+"All those whose death would be the result of her flight, if she
+succeeded in escaping from Boulogne..."
+
+But Sir Percy was staring at him, with wide open eyes expressive of
+utmost amazement.
+
+"Dear, dear, dear.... Lud! but that sounds most unfortunate..."
+
+"You have not heard of the measures which I have taken to prevent Lady
+Blakeney quitting this city without our leave?"
+
+"No, Monsieur Chaubertin... no... I have heard nothing..." rejoined Sir
+Percy blandly. "I lead a very retired life when I come abroad and..."
+
+"Would you wish to hear them now?"
+
+"Quite unnecessary, sir, I assure you... and the hour is getting
+late..."
+
+"Sir Percy, are you aware of the fact that unless you listen to what I
+have to say, your wife will be dragged before the Committee of Public
+Safety in Paris within the next twenty-four hours?" said Chauvelin
+firmly.
+
+"What swift horses you must have, sir," quoth Blakeney pleasantly. "Lud!
+to think of it!... I always heard that these demmed French horses would
+never beat ours across country."
+
+But Chauvelin now would not allow himself to be ruffled by Sir Percy's
+apparent indifference. Keen reader of emotions as he was, he had
+not failed to note a distinct change in the drawly voice, a sound
+of something hard and trenchant in the flippant laugh, ever since
+Marguerite's name was first mentioned. Blakeney's attitude was
+apparently as careless, as audacious as before, but Chauvelin's keen
+eyes had not missed the almost imperceptible tightening of the jaw and
+the rapid clenching of one hand on the sword hilt even whilst the other
+toyed in graceful idleness with the filmy Mechlin lace cravat.
+
+Sir Percy's head was well thrown back, and the pale rays of the moon
+caught the edge of the clear-cut profile, the low massive brow, the
+drooping lids through which the audacious plotter was lazily regarding
+the man who held not only his own life, but that of the woman who was
+infinitely dear to him, in the hollow of his hand.
+
+"I am afraid, Sir Percy," continued Chauvelin drily, "that you are under
+the impression that bolts and bars will yield to your usual good luck,
+now that so precious a life is at stake as that of Lady Blakeney."
+
+"I am a greater believer in impressions, Monsieur Chauvelin."
+
+"I told her just now that if she quitted Boulogne ere the Scarlet
+Pimpernel is in our hands, we should summarily shoot one member of every
+family in the town--the bread-winner."
+
+"A pleasant conceit, Monsieur... and one that does infinite credit to
+your inventive faculties."
+
+"Lady Blakeney, therefore, we hold safely enough," continued Chauvelin,
+who no longer heeded the mocking observations of his enemy; "as for the
+Scarlet Pimpernel..."
+
+"You have but to ring a bell, to raise a voice, and he too will be under
+lock and key within the next two minutes, eh?... Passons, Monsieur...
+you are dying to say something further... I pray you proceed... your
+engaging countenance is becoming quite interesting in its seriousness."
+
+"What I wish to say to you, Sir Percy, is in the nature of a proposed
+bargain."
+
+"Indeed?... Monsieur, you are full of surprises... like a pretty
+woman.... And pray what are the terms of this proposed bargain?"
+
+"Your side of the bargain, Sir Percy, or mine? Which will you hear
+first?"
+
+"Oh yours, Monsieur... yours, I pray you.... Have I not said that you
+are like a pretty woman?... Place aux dames, sir! always!"
+
+"My share of the bargain, sir, is simple enough: Lady Blakeney, escorted
+by yourself and any of your friends who might be in this city at
+the time, shall leave Boulogne harbour at sunset to-morrow, free and
+unmolested, if you on the other hand will do your share..."
+
+"I don't yet know what my share in this interesting bargain is to be,
+sir... but for the sake of argument let us suppose that I do not carry
+it out.... What then?..."
+
+"Then, Sir Percy... putting aside for the moment the question of the
+Scarlet Pimpernel altogether... then, Lady Blakeney will be taken to
+Paris, and will be incarcerated in the prison of the Temple lately
+vacated by Marie Antoinette--there she will be treated in exactly the
+same was as the ex-queen is now being treated in the Conciergerie.... Do
+you know what that means, Sir Percy?... It does not mean a summary trial
+and a speedy death, with the halo and glory of martyrdom thrown in... it
+means days, weeks, nay, months, perhaps, of misery and humiliation...
+it means, that like Marie Antoinette, she will never be allowed solitude
+for one single instant of the day or night... it means the constant
+proximity of soldiers, drunk with cruelty and with hate... the insults,
+the shame..."
+
+"You hound!... you dog!... you cur!... do you not see that I must
+strangle you for this!..."
+
+The attack had been so sudden and so violent that Chauvelin had not the
+time to utter the slightest call for help. But a second ago, Sir Percy
+Blakeney had been sitting on the window-sill, outwardly listening with
+perfect calm to what his enemy had to say; now he was at the latter's
+throat, pressing with long and slender hands the breath out of the
+Frenchman's body, his usually placid face distorted into a mask of hate.
+
+"You cur!... you cur!..." he repeated, "am I to kill you or will you
+unsay those words?"
+
+Then suddenly he relaxed his grip. The habits of a lifetime would not
+be gainsaid even now. A second ago his face had been livid with rage
+and hate, now a quick flush overspread it, as if he were ashamed of this
+loss of self-control. He threw the little Frenchman away from him like
+he would a beast which had snarled, and passed his hand across his brow.
+
+"Lud forgive me!" he said quaintly, "I had almost lost my temper."
+
+Chauvelin was not slow in recovering himself. He was plucky and alert,
+and his hatred for this man was so great that he had actually ceased to
+fear him. Now he quietly readjusted his cravat, made a vigorous effort
+to re-conquer his breath, and said firmly as soon as he could contrive
+to speak at all:
+
+"And if you did strangle me, Sir Percy, you would do yourself no
+good. The fate which I have mapped out for Lady Blakeney, would then
+irrevocably be hers, for she is in our power and none of my colleagues
+are disposed to offer you a means of saving her from it, as I am ready
+to do."
+
+Blakeney was now standing in the middle of the room, with his hands
+buried in the pockets of his breeches, his manner and attitude once more
+calm, debonnair, expressive of lofty self-possession and of absolute
+indifference. He came quite close to the meagre little figure of his
+exultant enemy, thereby forcing the latter to look up at him.
+
+"Oh!... ah!... yes!" he said airily, "I had nigh forgotten... you were
+talking of a bargain... my share of it... eh?... Is it me you want?...
+Do you wish to see me in your Paris prisons?... I assure you, sir, that
+the propinquity of drunken soldiers may disgust me, but it would in no
+way disturb the equanimity of my temper."
+
+"I am quite sure of that, Sir Percy--and I can but repeat what I had the
+honour of saying to Lady Blakeney just now--I do not desire the death of
+so accomplished a gentleman as yourself."
+
+"Strange, Monsieur," retorted Blakeney, with a return of his accustomed
+flippancy. "Now I do desire your death very strongly indeed--there would
+be so much less vermin on the face of the earth.... But pardon me--I was
+interrupting you.... Will you be so kind as to proceed?"
+
+Chauvelin had not winced at the insult. His enemy's attitude now left
+him completely indifferent. He had seen that self-possessed man of
+the world, that dainty and fastidious dandy, in the throes of an
+overmastering passion. He had very nearly paid with his life for the
+joy of having roused that supercilious and dormant lion. In fact he was
+ready to welcome any insults from Sir Percy Blakeney now, since these
+would be only additional evidences that the Englishman's temper was not
+yet under control.
+
+"I will try to be brief, Sir Percy," he said, setting himself the
+task of imitating his antagonist's affected manner. "Will you not sit
+down?... We must try and discuss these matters like two men of the
+world.... As for me, I am always happiest beside a board littered with
+papers.... I am not an athlete, Sir Percy... and serve my country with
+my pen rather than with my fists."
+
+Whilst he spoke he had reached the table and once more took the chair
+whereon he had been sitting lately, when he dreamed the dreams which
+were so near realization now. He pointed with a graceful gesture to the
+other vacant chair, which Blakeney took without a word.
+
+"Ah!" said Chauvelin with a sigh of satisfaction, "I see that we are
+about to understand one another.... I have always felt it was a pity,
+Sir Percy, that you and I could not discuss certain matters pleasantly
+with one another.... Now, about this unfortunate incident of Lady
+Blakeney's incarceration, I would like you to believe that I had no part
+in the arrangements which have been made for her detention in Paris. My
+colleagues have arranged it all... and I have vainly tried to protest
+against the rigorous measures which are to be enforced against her in
+the Temple prison.... But these are answering so completely in the
+case of the ex-queen, they have so completely broken her spirit and her
+pride, that my colleagues felt that they would prove equally useful in
+order to bring the Scarlet Pimpernel--through his wife--to an humbler
+frame of mind."
+
+He paused a moment, distinctly pleased with his peroration, satisfied
+that his voice had been without a tremor and his face impassive, and
+wondering what effect this somewhat lengthy preamble had upon Sir
+Percy, who through it all had remained singularly quiet. Chauvelin was
+preparing himself for the next effect which he hoped to produce, and
+was vaguely seeking for the best words with which to fully express his
+meaning, when he was suddenly startled by a sound as unexpected as it
+was disconcerting.
+
+It was the sound of a loud and prolonged snore. He pushed the candle
+aside, which somewhat obstructed his line of vision, and casting a rapid
+glance at the enemy, with whose life he was toying even as a cat doth
+with that of a mouse, he saw that the aforesaid mouse was calmly and
+unmistakably asleep.
+
+An impatient oath escaped Chauvelin's lips, and he brought his fist
+heavily down on the table, making the metal candlesticks rattle and
+causing Sir Percy to open one sleepy eye.
+
+"A thousand pardons, sir," said Blakeney with a slight yawn. "I am so
+demmed fatigued, and your preface was unduly long.... Beastly bad form,
+I know, going to sleep during a sermon... but I haven't had a wink of
+sleep all day.... I pray you to excuse me..."
+
+"Will you condescend to listen, Sir Percy?" queried Chauvelin
+peremptorily, "or shall I call the guard and give up all thoughts of
+treating with you?"
+
+"Just whichever you demmed well prefer, sir," rejoined Blakeney
+impatiently.
+
+And once more stretching out his long limbs, he buried his hands in
+the pockets of his breeches and apparently prepared himself for another
+quiet sleep. Chauvelin looked at him for a moment, vaguely wondering
+what to do next. He felt strangely irritated at what he firmly believed
+was mere affectation on Blakeney's part, and although he was burning
+with impatience to place the terms of the proposed bargain before this
+man, yet he would have preferred to be interrogated, to deliver his
+"either-or" with becoming sternness and decision, rather than to take
+the initiative in this discussion, where he should have been calm and
+indifferent, whilst his enemy should have been nervous and disturbed.
+
+Sir Percy's attitude had disconcerted him, a touch of the grotesque had
+been given to what should have been a tense moment, and it was terribly
+galling to the pride of the ex-diplomatist that with this elusive
+enemy and in spite of his own preparedness for any eventuality, it was
+invariably the unforeseen that happened.
+
+After a moment's reflection, however, he decided upon a fresh course of
+action. He rose and crossed the room, keeping as much as possible an eye
+upon Sir Percy, but the latter sat placid and dormant and evidently
+in no hurry to move. Chauvelin having reached the door, opened it
+noiselessly, and to the sergeant in command of his bodyguard who stood
+at attention outside, he whispered hurriedly:
+
+"The prisoner from No. 6.... Let two of the men bring her hither back to
+me at once."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXVI: The Terms of the Bargain
+
+
+
+Less than three minutes later, there came to Chauvelin's expectant ears
+the soft sound made by a woman's skirts against the stone floor. During
+those three minutes, which had seemed an eternity to his impatience, he
+had sat silently watching the slumber--affected or real--of his enemy.
+
+Directly he heard the word: "Halt!" outside the door, he jumped to his
+feet. The next moment Marguerite had entered the room.
+
+Hardly had her foot crossed the threshold than Sir Percy rose, quietly
+and without haste but evidently fully awake, and turning towards her,
+made her a low obeisance.
+
+She, poor woman, had of course caught sight of him at once. His presence
+here, Chauvelin's demand for her reappearance, the soldiers in a small
+compact group outside the door, all these were unmistakable proofs that
+the awful cataclysm had at last occurred.
+
+The Scarlet Pimpernel, Percy Blakeney, her husband, was in the hands of
+the Terrorists of France, and though face to face with her now, with
+an open window close to him, and an apparently helpless enemy under
+his hand, he could not--owing to the fiendish measures taken by
+Chauvelin--raise a finger to save himself and her.
+
+Mercifully for her, nature--in the face of this appalling
+tragedy--deprived her of the full measure of her senses. She could move
+and speak and see, she could hear and in a measure understand what was
+said, but she was really an automaton or a sleep-walker, moving and
+speaking mechanically and without due comprehension.
+
+Possibly, if she had then and there fully realized all that the future
+meant, she would have gone mad with the horror of it all.
+
+"Lady Blakeney," began Chauvelin after he had quickly dismissed the
+soldiers from the room, "when you and I parted from one another just
+now, I had no idea that I should so soon have the pleasure of a personal
+conversation with Sir Percy.... There is no occasion yet, believe me,
+for sorrow or fear.... Another twenty-four hours at most, and you will
+be on board the 'Day-Dream' outward bound for England. Sir Percy himself
+might perhaps accompany you; he does not desire that you should journey
+to Paris, and I may safely say, that in his mind, he has already
+accepted certain little conditions which I have been forced to impose
+upon him ere I sign the order for your absolute release."
+
+"Conditions?" she repeated vaguely and stupidly, looking in bewilderment
+from one to the other.
+
+"You are tired, m'dear," said Sir Percy quietly, "will you not sit
+down?"
+
+He held the chair gallantly for her. She tried to read his face,
+but could not catch even a flash from beneath the heavy lids which
+obstinately veiled his eyes.
+
+"Oh! it is a mere matter of exchanging signatures," continued Chauvelin
+in response to her inquiring glance and toying with the papers which
+were scattered on the table. "Here you see is the order to allow Sir
+Percy Blakeney and his wife, nee Marguerite St. Just, to quit the town
+of Boulogne unmolested."
+
+He held a paper out towards Marguerite, inviting her to look at it. She
+caught sight of an official-looking document, bearing the motto and
+seal of the Republic of France, and of her own name and Percy's written
+thereon in full.
+
+"It is perfectly en regle, I assure you," continued Chauvelin, "and only
+awaits my signature."
+
+He now took up another paper which looked like a long closely-written
+letter. Marguerite watched his every movement, for instinct told her
+that the supreme moment had come. There was a look of almost superhuman
+cruelty and malice in the little Frenchman's eyes as he fixed them on
+the impassive figure of Sir Percy, the while with slightly trembling
+hands he fingered that piece of paper and smoothed out its creases with
+loving care.
+
+"I am quite prepared to sign the order for your release, Lady Blakeney,"
+he said, keeping his gaze still keenly fixed upon Sir Percy. "When it
+is signed you will understand that our measures against the citizens of
+Boulogne will no longer hold good, and that on the contrary, the general
+amnesty and free pardon will come into force."
+
+"Yes, I understand that," she replied.
+
+"And all that will come to pass, Lady Blakeney, the moment Sir Percy
+will write me in his own hand a letter, in accordance with the draft
+which I have prepared, and sign it with his name.
+
+"Shall I read it to you?" he asked.
+
+"If you please."
+
+"You will see how simple it all is.... A mere matter of form.... I pray
+you do not look upon it with terror, but only as the prelude to that
+general amnesty and free pardon, which I feel sure will satisfy the
+philanthropic heart of the noble Scarlet Pimpernel, since three score at
+least of the inhabitants of Boulogne will owe their life and freedom to
+him."
+
+"I am listening, Monsieur," she said calmly.
+
+"As I have already had the honour of explaining, this little document
+is in the form of a letter addressed personally to me and of course in
+French," he said finally, and then he looked down on the paper and began
+to read:
+
+Citizen Chauvelin--
+
+In consideration of a further sum of one million francs and on the
+understanding that this ridiculous charge brought against me of
+conspiring against the Republic of France is immediately withdrawn, and
+I am allowed to return to England unmolested, I am quite prepared to
+acquaint you with the names and whereabouts of certain persons who under
+the guise of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel are even now conspiring
+to free the woman Marie Antoinette and her son from prison and to place
+the latter upon the throne of France. You are quite well aware that
+under the pretence of being the leader of a gang of English adventurers,
+who never did the Republic of France and her people any real harm, I
+have actually been the means of unmasking many a royalist plot before
+you, and of bringing many persistent conspirators to the guillotine. I
+am surprised that you should cavil at the price I am asking this time
+for the very important information with which I am able to furnish you,
+whilst you have often paid me similar sums for work which was a
+great deal less difficult to do. In order to serve your government
+effectually, both in England and in France, I must have a sufficiency of
+money, to enable me to live in a costly style befitting a gentleman of
+my rank. Were I to alter my mode of life I could not continue to mix in
+that same social milieu to which all my friends belong and wherein, as
+you are well aware, most of the royalist plots are hatched.
+
+Trusting therefore to receive a favourable reply to my just demands
+within the next twenty-four hours, whereupon the names in question shall
+be furnished you forthwith,
+
+I have the honour to remain, Citizen,
+
+Your humble and obedient servant,
+
+When he had finished reading, Chauvelin quietly folded the paper up
+again, and then only did he look at the man and the woman before him.
+
+Marguerite sat very erect, her head thrown back, her face very pale
+and her hands tightly clutched in her lap. She had not stirred whilst
+Chauvelin read out the infamous document, with which he desired to brand
+a brave man with the ineradicable stigma of dishonour and of shame.
+After she heard the first words, she looked up swiftly and questioningly
+at her husband, but he stood at some little distance from her, right
+out of the flickering circle of yellowish light made by the burning
+tallow-candle. He was as rigid as a statue, standing in his usual
+attitude with legs apart and hands buried in his breeches pockets.
+
+She could not see his face.
+
+Whatever she may have felt with regard to the letter, as the meaning of
+it gradually penetrated into her brain, she was, of course, convinced
+of one thing, and that was that never for a moment would Percy dream
+of purchasing his life or even hers at such a price. But she would have
+liked some sign from him, some look by which she could be guided as to
+her immediate conduct: as, however, he gave neither look nor sign, she
+preferred to assume an attitude of silent contempt.
+
+But even before Chauvelin had had time to look from one face to the
+other, a prolonged and merry laugh echoed across the squalid room.
+
+Sir Percy, with head thrown back, was laughing whole-heartedly.
+
+"A magnificent epistle, sir," he said gaily, "Lud love you, where
+did you wield the pen so gracefully?... I vow that if I signed this
+interesting document no one will believe I could have expressed myself
+with perfect ease.. and in French too..."
+
+"Nay, Sir Percy," rejoined Chauvelin drily, "I have thought of all that,
+and lest in the future there should be any doubt as to whether your own
+hand had or had not penned the whole of this letter, I also make it a
+condition that you write out every word of it yourself, and sign it here
+in this very room, in the presence of Lady Blakeney, of myself, of
+my colleagues and of at least half a dozen other persons whom I will
+select."
+
+"It is indeed admirably thought out, Monsieur," rejoined Sir Percy,
+"and what is to become of the charming epistle, may I ask, after I
+have written and signed it?... Pardon my curiosity.... I take a natural
+interest in the matter... and truly your ingenuity passes belief..."
+
+"Oh! the fate of this letter will be as simple as was the writing
+thereof.... A copy of it will be published in our 'Gazette de Paris'
+as a bait for enterprising English journalists.... They will not be
+backward in getting hold of so much interesting matter.... Can you not
+see the attractive headlines in 'The London Gazette,' Sir Percy? 'The
+League of the Scarlet Pimpernel unmasked! A gigantic hoax! The origin
+of the Blakeney millions!'... I believe that journalism in England has
+reached a high standard of excellence... and even the 'Gazette de Paris'
+is greatly read in certain towns of your charming country.... His Royal
+Highness the Prince of Wales, and various other influential gentlemen
+in London, will, on the other hand, be granted a private view of the
+original through the kind offices of certain devoted friends whom we
+possess in England.... I don't think that you need have any fear, Sir
+Percy, that your caligraphy will sink into oblivion. It will be our
+business to see that it obtains the full measure of publicity which it
+deserves..."
+
+He paused a moment, then his manner suddenly changed: the sarcastic tone
+died out of his voice, and there came back into his face that look of
+hatred and cruelty which Blakeney's persiflage had always the power to
+evoke.
+
+"You may rest assured of one thing, Sir Percy," he said with a harsh
+laugh, "that enough mud will be thrown at that erstwhile glorious
+Scarlet Pimpernel... some of it will be bound to stick..."
+
+"Nay, Monsieur... er... Chaubertin," quoth Blakeney lightly, "I have no
+doubt that you and your colleagues are past masters in the graceful art
+of mud-throwing.... But pardon me... er.... I was interrupting you....
+Continue, Monsieur... continue, I pray. 'Pon my honour, the matter is
+vastly diverting."
+
+"Nay, sir, after the publication of this diverting epistle, meseems your
+honour will ceased to be a marketable commodity."
+
+"Undoubtedly, sir," rejoined Sir Percy, apparently quite unruffled,
+"pardon a slip of the tongue... we are so much the creatures of
+habit.... As you were saying...?"
+
+"I have but little more to say, sir.... But lest there should even now
+be lurking in your mind a vague hope that, having written this letter,
+you could easily in the future deny its authorship, let me tell you
+this: my measures are well taken, there will be witnesses to your
+writing of it.... You will sit here in this room, unfettered, uncoerced
+in any way, and the money spoken of in the letter will be handed over to
+you by my colleague, after a few suitable words spoken by him, and you
+will take the money from him, Sir Percy... and the witnesses will
+see you take it after having seen you write the letter... they will
+understand that you are being PAID by the French government for giving
+information anent royalist plots in this country and in England... they
+will understand that your identity as the leader of that so-called band
+is not only known to me and to my colleague, but that it also covers
+your real character and profession as the paid spy of France."
+
+"Marvellous, I call it... demmed marvellous," quoth Sir Percy blandly.
+
+Chauvelin had paused, half-choked by his own emotion, his hatred and
+prospective revenge. He passed his handkerchief over his forehead, which
+was streaming with perspiration.
+
+"Warm work, this sort of thing... eh... Monsieur... er...
+Chaubertin?..." queried his imperturbable enemy.
+
+Marguerite said nothing; the whole thing was too horrible for words,
+but she kept her large eyes fixed upon her husband's face... waiting
+for that look, that sign from him which would have eased the agonizing
+anxiety in her heart, and which never came.
+
+With a great effort now, Chauvelin pulled himself together and, though
+his voice still trembled, he managed to speak with a certain amount of
+calm:
+
+"Probably, Sir Percy, you know," he said, "that throughout the whole of
+France we are inaugurating a series of national fetes, in honour of the
+new religion which the people are about to adopt.... Demoiselle Desiree
+Candeille, whom you know, will at these festivals impersonate the
+Goddess of Reason, the only deity whom we admit now in France.... She
+has been specially chosen for this honour, owing to the services which
+she has rendered us recently... and as Boulogne happens to be the lucky
+city in which we have succeeded in bringing the Scarlet Pimpernel to
+justice, the national fete will begin within these city walls, with
+Demoiselle Candeille as the thrice-honoured goddess."
+
+"And you will be very merry here in Boulogne, I dare swear..."
+
+"Aye, merry, sir," said Chauvelin with an involuntary and savage snarl,
+as he placed a long claw-like finger upon the momentous paper before
+him, "merry, for we here in Boulogne will see that which will fill the
+heart of every patriot in France with gladness.... Nay! 'twas not the
+death of the Scarlet Pimpernel we wanted... not the noble martyrdom of
+England's chosen hero... but his humiliation and defeat... derision
+and scorn... contumely and contempt. You asked me airily just now, Sir
+Percy, how I proposed to accomplish this object... Well! you know it
+now--by forcing you... aye, forcing--to write and sign a letter and
+to take money from my hands which will brand you forever as a liar and
+informer, and cover you with the thick and slimy mud of irreclaimable
+infamy..."
+
+"Lud! sir," said Sir Percy pleasantly, "what a wonderful command you
+have of our language.... I wish I could speak French half as well..."
+
+Marguerite had risen like an automaton from her chair. She felt that she
+could no longer sit still, she wanted to scream out at the top of her
+voice, all the horror she felt for this dastardly plot, which surely
+must have had its origin in the brain of devils. She could not
+understand Percy. This was one of those awful moments, which she
+had been destined to experience once or twice before, when the whole
+personality of her husband seemed to become shadowy before her, to slip,
+as it were, past her comprehension, leaving her indescribably lonely and
+wretched, trusting yet terrified.
+
+She thought that long ere this he would have flung back every insult in
+his opponent's teeth; she did not know what inducements Chauvelin had
+held out in exchange for the infamous letter, what threats he had used.
+That her own life and freedom were at stake, was, of course, evident,
+but she cared nothing for life, and he should know that certainly she
+would care still less if such a price had to be paid for it.
+
+She longed to tell him all that was in her heart, longed to tell him how
+little she valued her life, how highly she prized his honour! but how
+could she, before this fiend who snarled and sneered in his anticipated
+triumph, and surely, surely Percy knew!
+
+And knowing all that, why did he not speak? Why did he not tear that
+infamous paper from out that devil's hands and fling it in his face?
+Yet, though her loving ear caught every intonation of her husband's
+voice, she could not detect the slightest harshness in his airy laugh;
+his tone was perfectly natural and he seemed to be, indeed, just as he
+appeared--vastly amused.
+
+Then she thought that perhaps he would wish her to go now, that he felt
+desire to be alone with this man, who had outraged him in everything
+that he held most holy and most dear, his honour and his wife... that
+perhaps, knowing that his own temper was no longer under control, he did
+not wish her to witness the rough and ready chastisement which he was
+intending to mete out to this dastardly intriguer.
+
+Yes! that was it no doubt! Herein she could not be mistaken; she knew
+his fastidious notions of what was due and proper in the presence of a
+woman, and that even at a moment like this, he would wish the manners of
+London drawing-rooms to govern his every action.
+
+Therefore she rose to go, and as she did so, once more tried to read the
+expression in his face... to guess what was passing in his mind.
+
+"Nay, Madam," he said, whilst he bowed gracefully before her, "I fear me
+this lengthy conversation hath somewhat fatigued you.... This merry jest
+'twixt my engaging friend and myself should not have been prolonged so
+far into the night.... Monsieur, I pray you, will you not give orders
+that her ladyship be escorted back to her room?"
+
+He was still standing outside the circle of light, and Marguerite
+instinctively went up to him. For this one second she was oblivious
+of Chauvelin's presence, she forgot her well-schooled pride, her
+firm determination to be silent and to be brave: she could no longer
+restrain the wild beatings of her heart, the agony of her soul, and
+with sudden impulse she murmured in a voice broken with intense love and
+subdued, passionate appeal:
+
+"Percy!"
+
+He drew back a step further into the gloom: this made her realize the
+mistake she had made in allowing her husband's most bitter enemy to
+get this brief glimpse into her soul. Chauvelin's thin lips curled with
+satisfaction, the brief glimpse had been sufficient for him, the rapidly
+whispered name, the broken accent had told him what he had not known
+hitherto: namely, that between this man and woman there was a bond far
+more powerful that that which usually existed between husband and wife,
+and merely made up of chivalry on the one side and trustful reliance on
+the other.
+
+Marguerite having realized her mistake, ashamed of having betrayed
+her feelings even for a moment, threw back her proud head and gave her
+exultant foe a look of defiance and of scorn. He responded with one of
+pity, not altogether unmixed with deference. There was something almost
+unearthly and sublime in this beautiful woman's agonizing despair.
+
+He lowered his head and made her a deep obeisance, lest she should see
+the satisfaction and triumph which shone through his pity.
+
+As usual Sir Percy remained quite imperturbable, and now it was he, who,
+with characteristic impudence, touched the hand-bell on the table:
+
+"Excuse this intrusion, Monsieur," he said lightly, "her ladyship is
+overfatigued and would be best in her room."
+
+Marguerite threw him a grateful look. After all she was only a woman
+and was afraid of breaking down. In her mind there was no issue to the
+present deadlock save in death. For this she was prepared and had but
+one great hope that she could lie in her husband's arms just once again
+before she died. Now, since she could not speak to him, scarcely dared
+to look into the loved face, she was quite ready to go.
+
+In answer to the bell, the soldier had entered.
+
+"If Lady Blakeney desires to go..." said Chauvelin.
+
+She nodded and Chauvelin gave the necessary orders: two soldiers stood
+at attention ready to escort Marguerite back to her prison cell. As she
+went towards the door she came to within a couple of steps from where
+her husband was standing, bowing to her as she passed. She stretched
+out an icy cold hand towards him, and he, in the most approved London
+fashion, with the courtly grace of a perfect English gentleman, took
+the little hand in his and stooping very low kissed the delicate
+finger-tips.
+
+Then only did she notice that the strong, nervy hand which held hers
+trembled perceptibly, and that his lips--which for an instant rested on
+her fingers--were burning hot.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXVII: The Decision
+
+
+
+Once more the two men were alone.
+
+As far as Chauvelin was concerned he felt that everything was not yet
+settled, and until a moment ago he had been in doubt as to whether Sir
+Percy would accept the infamous conditions which had been put before
+him, or allow his pride and temper to get the better of him and throw
+the deadly insults back into his adversary's teeth.
+
+But now a new secret had been revealed to the astute diplomatist. A
+name, softly murmured by a broken-hearted woman, had told him a tale of
+love and passion, which he had not even suspected before.
+
+Since he had made this discovery he knew that the ultimate issue was no
+longer in doubt. Sir Percy Blakeney, the bold adventurer, ever ready
+for a gamble where lives were at stake, might have demurred before
+he subscribed to his own dishonour, in order to save his wife from
+humiliation and the shame of the terrible fate that had been mapped
+out for her. But the same man passionately in love with such a woman as
+Marguerite Blakeney would count the world well lost for her sake.
+
+One sudden fear alone had shot through Chauvelin's heart when he stood
+face to face with the two people whom he had so deeply and cruelly
+wronged, and that was that Blakeney, throwing aside all thought of the
+scores of innocent lives that were at stake, might forget everything,
+risk everything, dare everything, in order to get his wife away there
+and then.
+
+For the space of a few seconds Chauvelin had felt that his own life
+was in jeopardy, and that the Scarlet Pimpernel would indeed make
+a desperate effort to save himself and his wife. But the fear was
+short-lived: Marguerite--as he had well foreseen--would never save
+herself at the expense of others, and she was tied! tied! tied! That was
+his triumph and his joy!
+
+When Marguerite finally left the room, Sir Percy made no motion to
+follow her, but turned once more quietly to his antagonist.
+
+"As you were saying, Monsieur?..." he queried lightly.
+
+"Oh! there is nothing more to say, Sir Percy," rejoined Chauvelin; "my
+conditions are clear to you, are they not? Lady Blakeney's and your own
+immediate release in exchange for a letter written to me by your own
+hand, and signed here by you--in this room--in my presence and that of
+sundry other persons whom I need not name just now. Also certain money
+passing from my hand to yours. Failing the letter, a long, hideously
+humiliating sojourn in the Temple prison for your wife, a prolonged
+trial and the guillotine as a happy release!... I would add, the same
+thing for yourself, only that I will do you the justice to admit that
+you probably do not care."
+
+"Nay! a grave mistake, Monsieur.... I do care... vastly care, I assure
+you ... and would seriously object to ending my life on your demmed
+guillotine... a nasty, uncomfortable thing, I should say... and I am
+told that an inexperienced barber is deputed to cut one's hair....
+Brrr!... Now, on the other hand, I like the idea of a national fete...
+that pretty wench Candeille, dressed as a goddess... the boom of the
+cannon when your amnesty comes into force.... You WILL boom the cannon,
+will you not, Monsieur?... Cannon are demmed noisy, but they are
+effective sometimes, do you not think so, Monsieur?"
+
+"Very effective certainly, Sir Percy," sneered Chauvelin, "and we will
+certainly boom the cannon from this very fort, an it so please you...."
+
+"At what hour, Monsieur, is my letter to be ready?"
+
+"Why! at any hour you please, Sir Percy."
+
+"The 'Day-Dream' could weigh anchor at eight o'clock... would an hour
+before that be convenient to yourself?"
+
+"Certainly, Sir Percy... if you will honour me by accepting my
+hospitality in these uncomfortable quarters until seven o'clock
+to-morrow eve?..."
+
+"I thank you, Monsieur..."
+
+"Then am I to understand, Sir Percy, that..."
+
+A loud and ringing laugh broke from Blakeney's lips.
+
+"That I accept your bargain, man!... Zounds! I tell you I accept... I'll
+write the letter, I'll sign it... an you have our free passes ready for
+us in exchange.... At seven o'clock to-morrow eve, did you say?... Man!
+do not look so astonished.... The letter, the signature, the money...
+all your witnesses... have everything ready.... I accept, I say....
+And now, in the name of all the evil spirits in hell, let me have some
+supper and a bed, for I vow that I am demmed fatigued."
+
+And without more ado Sir Percy once more rang the handbell, laughing
+boisterously the while: then suddenly, with quick transition of mood,
+his laugh was lost in a gigantic yawn, and throwing his long body onto
+a chair, he stretched out his legs, buried his hands in his pockets, and
+the next moment was peacefully asleep.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXVIII: The Midnight Watch
+
+
+
+Boulogne had gone through many phases, in its own languid and sleepy
+way, whilst the great upheaval of a gigantic revolution shook other
+cities of France to their very foundations.
+
+At first the little town had held somnolently aloof, and whilst Lyons
+and Tours conspired and rebelled, whilst Marseilles and Toulon opened
+their ports to the English and Dunkirk was ready to surrender to
+the allied forces, she had gazed through half-closed eyes at all the
+turmoil, and then quietly turned over and gone to sleep again.
+
+Boulogne fished and mended nets, built boats and manufactured boots
+with placid content, whilst France murdered her king and butchered her
+citizens.
+
+The initial noise of the great revolution was only wafted on the
+southerly breezes from Paris to the little seaport towns of Northern
+France, and lost much of its volume and power in this aerial transit:
+the fisher folk were too poor to worry about the dethronement of kings:
+the struggle for daily existence, the perils and hardships of deep-sea
+fishing engrossed all the faculties they possessed.
+
+As for the burghers and merchants of the town, they were at first
+content with reading an occasional article in the "Gazette de Paris" or
+the "Gazette des Tribunaux," brought hither by one or other of the many
+travellers who crossed the city on their way to the harbour. They were
+interested in these articles, at times even comfortably horrified at the
+doings in Paris, the executions and the tumbrils, but on the whole they
+liked the idea that the country was in future to be governed by duly
+chosen representatives of the people, rather than be a prey to the
+despotism of kings, and they were really quite pleased to see the
+tricolour flag hoisted on the old Beffroi, there where the snow-white
+standard of the Bourbons had erstwhile flaunted its golden fleur-de-lis
+in the glare of the midday sun.
+
+The worthy burgesses of Boulogne were ready to shout: "Vive la
+Republique!" with the same cheerful and raucous Normandy accent as they
+had lately shouted "Dieu protege le Roi!"
+
+The first awakening from this happy torpor came when that tent was put
+up on the landing stage in the harbour. Officials, dressed in shabby
+uniforms and wearing tricolour cockades and scarves, were now quartered
+in Town Hall, and repaired daily to that roughly erected tent,
+accompanied by so many soldiers from the garrison.
+
+There installed, they busied themselves with examining carefully
+the passports of all those who desired to leave or enter Boulogne.
+Fisher-folk who had dwelt in the city--father and son and grandfather
+and many generations before that--and had come and gone in and out of
+their own boats as they pleased, were now stopped as they beached their
+craft and made to give an account of themselves to these officials from
+Paris.
+
+It was, of a truth, more than ridiculous, that these strangers should
+ask of Jean-Marie who he was, or of Pierre what was his business, or
+of Desire Francois whither he was going, when Jean-Marie and Pierre
+and Desire Francois had plied their nets in the roads outside Boulogne
+harbour for more years than they would care to count.
+
+It also caused no small measure of annoyance that fishermen were
+ordered to wear tricolour cockades on their caps. They had no special
+ill-feeling against tricolour cockades, but they did not care about
+them. Jean-Marie flatly refused to have one pinned on, and being
+admonished somewhat severely by one of the Paris officials, he became
+obstinate about the whole thing and threw the cockade violently on the
+ground and spat upon it, not from any sentiment of anti-republicanism,
+but just from a feeling of Norman doggedness.
+
+He was arrested, shut up in Fort Gayole, tried as a traitor and publicly
+guillotined.
+
+The consternation in Boulogne was appalling.
+
+The one little spark had found its way to a barrel of blasting
+powder and caused a terrible explosion. Within twenty-four hours
+of Jean-Marie's execution the whole town was in the throes of
+the Revolution. What the death of King Louis, the arrest of Marie
+Antoinette, the massacres of September had failed to do, that the arrest
+and execution of an elderly fisherman accomplished in a trice.
+
+People began to take sides in politics. Some families realized that they
+came from ancient lineage, and that their ancestors had helped to build
+up the throne of the Bourbons. Others looked up ancient archives and
+remembered past oppressions at the hands of the aristocrats.
+
+Thus some burghers of Boulogne became ardent reactionaries, whilst
+others secretly nursed enthusiastic royalist convictions: some were
+ready to throw in their lot with the anarchists, to deny the religion
+of their fathers, to scorn the priests and close the places of worship;
+others adhered strictly still to the usages and practices of the Church.
+
+Arrest became frequent: the guillotine, erected in the Place de la
+Senechaussee, had plenty of work to do. Soon the cathedral was closed,
+the priests thrown into prison, whilst scores of families hoped to
+escape a similar fate by summary flight.
+
+Vague rumours of a band of English adventurers soon reached the little
+sea-port town. The Scarlet Pimpernel--English spy or hero, as he was
+alternately called--had helped many a family with pronounced royalist
+tendencies to escape the fury of the blood-thirsty Terrorists.
+
+Thus gradually the anti-revolutionaries had been weeded out of the city:
+some by death and imprisonment, others by flight. Boulogne became the
+hotbed of anarchism: the idlers and loafers, inseparable from any town
+where there is a garrison and a harbour, practically ruled the city now.
+Denunciations were the order of the day. Everyone who owned any money,
+or lived with any comfort was accused of being a traitor and suspected
+of conspiracy. The fisher folk wandered about the city, surly and
+discontented: their trade was at a standstill, but there was a trifle
+to be earned by giving information: information which meant the arrest,
+ofttimes the death of men, women and even children who had tried to seek
+safety in flight, and to denounce whom--as they were trying to hire a
+boat anywhere along the coast--meant a good square meal for a starving
+family.
+
+Then came the awful cataclysm.
+
+A woman--a stranger--had been arrested and imprisoned in the Fort Gayole
+and the town-crier publicly proclaimed that if she escaped from jail,
+one member of every family in the town--rich or poor, republican or
+royalist, Catholic or free-thinker--would be summarily guillotined.
+
+That member, the bread-winner!
+
+"Why, then, with the Duvals it would be young Francois-Auguste. He keeps
+his old mother with his boot-making..."
+
+"And it would be Marie Lebon, she has her blind father dependent on her
+net-mending."
+
+"And old Mother Laferriere, whose grandchildren were left penniless...
+she keeps them from starvation by her wash-tub."
+
+"But Francois-Auguste is a real Republican; he belongs to the Jacobin
+Club."
+
+"And look at Pierre, who never meets a calotin but he must needs spit on
+him."
+
+"Is there no safety anywhere?... are we to be butchered like so many
+cattle?..."
+
+Somebody makes the suggestion:
+
+"It is a threat... they would not dare!..."
+
+"Would not dare?..."
+
+'Tis old Andre Lemoine who has spoken, and he spits vigorously on the
+ground. Andre Lemoine has been a soldier; he was in La Vendee. He was
+wounded at Tours... and he knows!
+
+"Would not dare?..." he says in a whisper. "I tell you, friends, that
+there's nothing the present government would not dare. There was the
+Plaine Saint Mauve... Did you ever hear about that?... little children
+fusilladed by the score... little ones, I say, and women with babies at
+their breasts ... weren't they innocent?... Five hundred innocent people
+butchered in La Vendee... until the Headsman sank--worn not... I could
+tell worse than that... for I know.... There's nothing they would not
+dare!..."
+
+Consternation was so great that the matter could not even be discussed.
+
+"We'll go to Gayole and see this woman at any rate."
+
+Angry, sullen crowds assembled in the streets. The proclamation had been
+read just as the men were leaving the public houses, preparing to go
+home for the night.
+
+They brought the news to the women, who, at home, were setting the soup
+and bread on the table for their husbands' supper. There was no thought
+of going to bed or of sleeping that night. The bread-winner in every
+family and all those dependent on him for daily sustenance were
+trembling for their lives.
+
+Resistance to the barbarous order would have been worse than useless,
+nor did the thought of it enter the heads of these humble and ignorant
+fisher folk, wearied out with the miserable struggle for existence.
+There was not sufficient spirit left in this half-starved population
+of a small provincial city to suggest open rebellion. A regiment of
+soldiers come up from the South were quartered in the Chateau, and the
+natives of Boulogne could not have mustered more than a score of disused
+blunderbusses between them.
+
+Then they remembered tales which Andre Lemoine had told, the fate of
+Lyons, razed to the ground, of Toulon burnt to ashes, and they did not
+dare rebel.
+
+But brothers, fathers, sons trooped out towards Gayole, in order to
+have a good look at the frowning pile, which held the hostage for their
+safety. It looked dark and gloomy enough, save for one window which gave
+on the southern ramparts. This window was wide open and a feeble light
+flickered from the room beyond, and as the men stood about, gazing at
+the walls in sulky silence, they suddenly caught the sound of a loud
+laugh proceeding from within, and of a pleasant voice speaking quite
+gaily in a language which they did not understand, but which sounded
+like English.
+
+Against the heavy oaken gateway, leading to the courtyard of the prison,
+the proclamation written on stout parchment had been pinned up. Beside
+it hung a tiny lantern, the dim light of which flickered in the evening
+breeze, and brought at times into sudden relief the bold writing and
+heavy signature, which stood out, stern and grim, against the yellowish
+background of the paper, like black signs of approaching death.
+
+Facing the gateway and the proclamation, the crowd of men took its
+stand. The moon, from behind them, cast fitful, silvery glances at the
+weary heads bent in anxiety and watchful expectancy: on old heads and
+young heads, dark, curly heads and heads grizzled with age, on backs
+bent with toil, and hands rough and gnarled like seasoned timber.
+
+All night the men stood and watched.
+
+Sentinels from the town guard were stationed at the gates, but these
+might prove inattentive or insufficient, they had not the same price
+at stake, so the entire able-bodied population of Boulogne watched the
+gloomy prison that night, lest anyone escaped by wall or window.
+
+They were guarding the precious hostage whose safety was the stipulation
+for their own.
+
+There was dead silence among them, and dead silence all around, save for
+that monotonous tok-tok-tok of the parchment flapping in the breeze. The
+moon, who all along had been capricious and chary of her light, made
+a final retreat behind a gathering bank of clouds, and the crowd, the
+soldiers and the great grim walls were all equally wrapped in gloom.
+
+Only the little lantern on the gateway now made a ruddy patch of light,
+and tinged that fluttering parchment with the colour of blood. Every now
+and then an isolated figure would detach itself from out the watching
+throng, and go up to the heavy, oaken door, in order to gaze at the
+proclamation. Then the light of the lantern illumined a dark head or a
+grey one, for a moment or two: black or white locks were stirred gently
+in the wind, and a sigh of puzzlement and disappointment would be
+distinctly heard.
+
+At times a group of three or four would stand there for awhile, not
+speaking, only sighing and casting eager questioning glances at one
+another, whilst trying vainly to find some hopeful word, some turn of
+phrase of meaning that would be less direful, in that grim and ferocious
+proclamation. Then a rough word from the sentinel, a push from the
+butt-end of a bayonet would disperse the little group and send the men,
+sullen and silent, back into the crowd.
+
+Thus they watched for hours whilst the bell of the Beffroi tolled all
+the hours of that tedious night. A thin rain began to fall in the small
+hours of the morning, a wetting, soaking drizzle which chilled the weary
+watchers to the bone.
+
+But they did not care.
+
+"We must not sleep, for the woman might escape."
+
+Some of them squatted down in the muddy road, the luckier ones managed
+to lean their backs against the slimy walls.
+
+Twice before the hour of midnight they heard that same quaint and merry
+laugh proceeding from the lighted room, through the open window. Once it
+sounded very low and very prolonged, as if in response to a delightful
+joke.
+
+Anon the heavy gateway of Gayole was opened from within, and half a
+dozen soldiers came walking out of the courtyard. They were dressed in
+the uniform of the town-guard, but had evidently been picked out of the
+rank and file, for all six were exceptionally tall and stalwart, and
+towered above the sentinel, who saluted and presented arms as they
+marched out of the gate.
+
+In the midst of them walked a slight, dark figure, clad entirely in
+black, save for the tricolour scarf round his waist.
+
+The crowd of watchers gazed on the little party with suddenly awakened
+interest.
+
+"Who is it?" whispered some of the men.
+
+"The citizen-governor," suggested one.
+
+"The new public executioner," ventured another.
+
+"No! no!" quoth Pierre Maxime, the doyen of Boulogne fishermen, and a
+great authority on every matter public or private with the town; "no, no
+he is the man who has come down from Paris, the friend of Robespierre.
+He makes the laws now, the citizen-governor even must obey him. 'Tis he
+who made the law that if the woman up yonder should escape..."
+
+"Hush!... sh!... sh!..." came in frightened accents from the crowd.
+
+"Hush, Pierre Maxine!... the Citizen might hear thee," whispered the man
+who stood closest to the old fisherman; "the Citizen might hear thee,
+and think that we rebelled...."
+
+"What are these people doing here?' queried Chauvelin as he passed out
+into the street.
+
+"They are watching the prison, Citizen," replied the sentinel, whom he
+had thus addressed, "lest the female prisoner should attempt to escape."
+
+With a satisfied smile, Chauvelin turned toward the Town Hall, closely
+surrounded by his escort. The crowd watched him and the soldiers as
+they quickly disappeared in the gloom, then they resumed the stolid,
+wearisome vigil of the night.
+
+The old Beffroi now tolled the midnight hour, the one solitary light in
+the old Fort was extinguished, and after that the frowning pile remained
+dark and still.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXIX: The National Fete
+
+
+
+"Citizens of Boulogne, awake!"
+
+They had not slept, only some of them had fallen into drowsy somnolence,
+heavy and nerve-racking, worse indeed than any wakefulness.
+
+Within the houses, the women too had kept the tedious vigil, listening
+for every sound, dreading every bit of news, which the wind might waft
+in through the small, open windows.
+
+If one prisoner escaped, every family in Boulogne would be deprived of
+the bread-winner. Therefore the women wept, and tried to remember those
+Paters and Aves which the tyranny of liberty, fraternity and equality
+had ordered them to forget.
+
+Broken rosaries were fetched out from neglected corners, and knees stiff
+with endless, thankless toil were bent once more in prayer.
+
+"Oh God! Good God! Do not allow that woman to flee!"
+
+"Holy Virgin! Mother of God! Make that she should not escape!"
+
+Some of the women went out in the early dawn to take hot soup and coffee
+to their men who were watching outside the prison.
+
+"Has anything been seen?"
+
+"Have ye seen the woman?"
+
+"Which room is she in?"
+
+"Why won't they let us see her?"
+
+"Are you sure she hath not already escaped?"
+
+Questions and surmises went round in muffled whispers as the steaming
+cans were passed round. No one had a definite answer to give, although
+Desire Melun declared that he had, once during the night, caught sight
+of a woman's face at one of the windows above: but as he could not
+describe the woman's face, nor locate with any degree of precision the
+particular window at which she was supposed to have appeared, it was
+unanimously decided that Desire must have been dreaming.
+
+"Citizens of Boulogne, awake!"
+
+The cry came first from the Town Hall, and therefore from behind the
+crowd of men and women, whose faces had been so resolutely set for all
+these past hours towards the Gayole prison.
+
+They were all awake! but too tired and cramped to move as yet, and to
+turn in the direction whence arose that cry.
+
+"Citizens of Boulogne, awake!"
+
+It was just the voice of Auguste Moleux, the town-crier of Boulogne,
+who, bell in hand, was trudging his way along the Rue Daumont, closely
+followed by two fellows of the municipal guard.
+
+Auguste was in the very midst of the sullen crowd, before the men even
+troubled about his presence here, but now with many a vigorous "Allons
+donc!" and "Voyez-moi ca, fais donc place, voyons!" he elbowed his way
+through the throng.
+
+He was neither tired nor cramped; he served the Republic in comfort
+and ease, and had slept soundly on his paillasse in the little garret
+allotted to him in the Town Hall.
+
+The crowd parted in silence, to allow him to pass. Auguste was lean and
+powerful, the scanty and meagre food, doled out to him by a paternal
+government, had increased his muscular strength whilst reducing his fat.
+He had very hard elbows, and soon he managed, by dint of pushing and
+cursing to reach the gateway of Gayole.
+
+"Voyons! enlevez-moi ca," he commanded in stentorian tones, pointing to
+the proclamation.
+
+The fellows of the municipal guard fell to and tore the parchment away
+from the door whilst the crowd looked on with stupid amazement.
+
+What did it all mean?
+
+Then Auguste Moleux turned and faced the men.
+
+"Mes enfants," he said, "my little cabbages! wake up! the government of
+the Republic has decreed that to-day is to be a day of gaiety and public
+rejoicings!"
+
+"Gaiety?... Public rejoicings forsooth, when the bread-winner of every
+family..."
+
+"Hush! Hush! Be silent, all of you," quoth Auguste impatiently, "you do
+not understand!... All that is at an end... There is no fear that the
+woman shall escape.... You are all to dance and rejoice.... The Scarlet
+Pimpernel has been captured in Boulogne, last night..."
+
+"Qui ca the Scarlet Pimpernel?"
+
+"Mais! 'tis that mysterious English adventurer who rescued people from
+the guillotine!"
+
+"A hero? quoi?"
+
+"No! no! only an English spy, a friend of aristocrats... he would have
+cared nothing for the bread-winners of Boulogne..."
+
+"He would not have raised a finger to save them."
+
+"Who knows?" sighed a feminine voice, "perhaps he came to Boulogne to
+help them."
+
+"And he has been caught anyway," concluded Auguste Moleux sententiously,
+"and, my little cabbages, remember this, that so great is the pleasure
+of the all-powerful Committee of Public Safety at this capture, that
+because he has been caught in Boulogne, therefore Boulogne is to be
+specially rewarded!"
+
+"Holy Virgin, who'd have thought it?"
+
+"Sh... Jeanette, dost not know that there's no Holy Virgin now?"
+
+"And dost know, Auguste, how we are to be rewarded?"
+
+It is a difficult matter for the human mind to turn very quickly from
+despair to hope, and the fishermen of Boulogne had not yet grasped the
+fact that they were to make merry and that thoughts of anxiety must be
+abandoned for those of gaiety.
+
+Auguste Moleux took out a parchment from the capacious pocket of his
+coat; he put on his most solemn air of officialdom, and pointing with
+extended forefinger to the parchment, he said:
+
+"A general amnesty to all natives of Boulogne who are under arrest at
+the present moment: a free pardon to all natives of Boulogne who are
+under sentence of death: permission to all natives of Boulogne to quit
+the town with their families, to embark on any vessel they please, in
+or out of the harbour, and to go whithersoever they choose, without
+passports, formalities or questions of any kind."
+
+Dead silence followed this announcement. Hope was just beginning to
+crowd anxiety and sullenness out of the way.
+
+"Then poor Andre Legrand will be pardoned," whispered a voice suddenly;
+"he was to have been guillotined to-day."
+
+"And Denise Latour! she was innocent enough, the gentle pigeon."
+
+"And they'll let poor Abbe Foucquet out of prison too."
+
+"And Francois!"
+
+"And poor Felicite, who is blind!"
+
+"M. l'Abbe would be wise to leave Boulogne with the children."
+
+"He will too: thou canst be sure of that!"
+
+"It is not good to be a priest just now!"
+
+"Bah! calotins are best dead than alive."
+
+But some in the crowd were silent, others whispered eagerly.
+
+"Thinkest thou it would be safer for us to get out of the country whilst
+we can?" said one of the men in a muffled tone, and clutching nervously
+at a woman's wrist.
+
+"Aye! aye! it might leak out about that boat we procured for..."
+
+"Sh!... I was thinking of that..."
+
+"We can go to my aunt Lebrun in Belgium..."
+
+Others talked in whispers of England or the New Land across the seas:
+they were those who had something to hide, money received from refugee
+aristocrats, boats sold to would-be emigres, information withheld,
+denunciations shirked: the amnesty would not last long, 'twas best to be
+safely out of the way.
+
+"In the meanwhile, my cabbages," quoth Auguste sententiously, "are you
+not grateful to Citizen Robespierre, who has sent this order specially
+down from Paris?"
+
+"Aye! aye!" assented the crowd cheerfully.
+
+"Hurrah for Citizen Robespierre!"
+
+"Viva la Republique!"
+
+"And you will enjoy yourselves to-day?"
+
+"That we will!"
+
+"Processions?"
+
+"Aye! with music and dancing."
+
+Out there, far away, beyond the harbour, the grey light of dawn was
+yielding to the crimson glow of morning. The rain had ceased and heavy
+slaty clouds parted here and there, displaying glints of delicate
+turquoise sky, and tiny ethereal vapours in the dim and remote distance
+of infinity, flecked with touches of rose and gold.
+
+The towers and pinnacles of old Boulogne detached themselves one by one
+from the misty gloom of night. The old bell of the Beffroi tolled the
+hour of six. Soon the massive cupola of Notre Dame was clothed in purple
+hues, and the gilt cross on St. Joseph threw back across the square a
+blinding ray of gold.
+
+The town sparrows began to twitter, and from far out at sea in the
+direction of Dunkirk there came the muffled boom of cannon.
+
+"And remember, my pigeons," admonished Auguste Moleux solemnly, "that in
+this order which Robespierre has sent from Paris, it also says that from
+to-day onwards le bon Dieu has ceased to be!"
+
+Many faces were turned towards the East just then, for the rising
+sun, tearing with one gigantic sweep the banks of cloud asunder, now
+displayed his magnificence in a gorgeous immensity of flaming crimson.
+The sea, in response, turned to liquid fire beneath the glow, whilst the
+whole sky was irradiated with the first blush of morning.
+
+Le bon Dieu has ceased to be!
+
+"There is only one religion in France now," explained Auguste Moleux,
+"the religion of Reason! We are all citizens! We are all free and all
+able to think for ourselves. Citizen Robespierre has decreed that there
+is no good God. Le bon Dieu was a tyrant and an aristocrat, and, like
+all tyrants and aristocrats, He has been deposed. There is no good God,
+there is no Holy Virgin and no Saints, only Reason, who is a goddess and
+whom we all honour."
+
+And the townsfolk of Boulogne, with eyes still fixed on the gorgeous
+East, shouted with sullen obedience:
+
+"Hurrah! for the Goddess of Reason!"
+
+"Hurrah for Robespierre!"
+
+Only the women, trying to escape the town-crier's prying eyes, or the
+soldiers' stern gaze, hastily crossed themselves behind their husbands'
+backs, terrified lest le bon Dieu had, after all, not altogether ceased
+to exist at the bidding of Citizen Robespierre.
+
+Thus the worthy natives of Boulogne, forgetting their anxieties and
+fears, were ready enough to enjoy the national fete ordained for them by
+the Committee of Public Safety, in honour of the capture of the Scarlet
+Pimpernel. They were even willing to accept this new religion which
+Robespierre had invented: a religion which was only a mockery, with an
+actress to represent its supreme deity.
+
+Mais, que voulez-vous? Boulogne had long ago ceased to have faith in
+God: the terrors of the Revolution, which culminated in that agonizing
+watch of last night, had smothered all thoughts of worship and of
+prayer.
+
+The Scarlet Pimpernel must indeed be a dangerous spy that his arrest
+should cause so much joy in Paris!
+
+Even Boulogne had learned by experience that the Committee of Public
+Safety did not readily give up a prey, once its vulture-like claws had
+closed upon it. The proportion of condemnations as against acquittals
+was as a hundred to one.
+
+But because this one man was taken, scores to-day were to be set free!
+
+In the evening at a given hour--seven o'clock had Auguste Moleux, the
+town-crier, understood--the boom of the cannon would be heard, the gates
+of the town would be opened, the harbour would become a free port.
+
+The inhabitants of Boulogne were ready to shout:
+
+"Vive the Scarlet Pimpernel!"
+
+Whatever he was--hero or spy--he was undoubtedly the primary cause of
+all their joy.
+
+By the time Auguste Moleux had cried out the news throughout the town,
+and pinned the new proclamation of mercy up on every public building,
+all traces of fatigue and anxiety had vanished. In spite of the fact
+that wearisome vigils had been kept in every home that night, and that
+hundreds of men and women had stood about for hours in the vicinity of
+the Gayole Fort, no sooner was the joyful news known, than all lassitude
+was forgotten and everyone set to with a right merry will to make the
+great fete-day a complete success.
+
+There is in every native of Normandy, be he peasant or gentleman, an
+infinite capacity for enjoyment, and at the same time a marvellous
+faculty for co-ordinating and systematizing his pleasures.
+
+In a trice the surly crowds had vanished. Instead of these, there were
+groups of gaily-visaged men pleasantly chattering outside every eating
+and drinking place in the town. The national holiday had come upon
+these people quite unawares, so the early part of it had to be spent
+in thinking out a satisfactory programme for it. Sipping their beer
+or coffee, or munching their cherries a l'eau-de-vie, the townsfolk
+of Boulogne, so lately threatened with death, were quietly organizing
+processions.
+
+There was to be a grand muster on the Place de la Senechaussee, then
+a torchlight and lanthorn-light march, right round the Ramparts,
+culminating in a gigantic assembly outside the Town Hall, where the
+Citizen Chauvelin, representing the Committee of Public Safety, would
+receive an address of welcome from the entire population of Boulogne.
+
+The procession was to be in costume! There were to be Pierrots and
+Pierettes, Harlequins and English clowns, aristocrats and goddesses! All
+day the women and girls were busy contriving travesties of all sorts,
+and the little tumbledown shops in the Rue de Chateau and the Rue
+Frederic Sauvage--kept chiefly by Jews and English traders--were
+ransacked for old bits of finery, and for remnants of costumes, worn
+in the days when Boulogne was still a gay city and Carnivals were held
+every year.
+
+And then, of course, there would be the Goddess of Reason, in her
+triumphal car! the apotheosis of the new religion, which was to make
+everybody happy, rich and free.
+
+Forgotten were the anxieties of the night, the fears of death, the
+great and glorious Revolution, which for this one day would cease her
+perpetual demand for the toll of blood.
+
+Nothing was remembered save the pleasures and joys of the moment, and at
+times the name of that Englishman--spy, hero or adventurer--the cause of
+all this bounty: the Scarlet Pimpernel.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXX: The Procession
+
+
+
+The grandfathers of the present generation of Boulonnese remembered
+the great day of the National Fete, when all Boulogne, for twenty-four
+hours, went crazy with joy. So many families had fathers, brothers,
+sons, languishing in prison under some charge of treason, real or
+imaginary; so many had dear ones for whom already the guillotine loomed
+ahead, that the feast on this memorable day of September, 1793, was one
+of never-to-be-forgotten relief and thanksgiving.
+
+The weather all day had been exceptionally fine. After that glorious
+sunrise, the sky had remained all day clad in its gorgeous mantle of
+blue and the sun had continued to smile benignly on the many varied
+doings of this gay, little seaport town. When it began to sink slowly
+towards the West a few little fluffy clouds appeared on the horizon,
+and from a distance, although the sky remained clear and blue, the sea
+looked quite dark and slaty against the brilliance of the firmament.
+
+Gradually, as the splendour of the sunset gave place to the delicate
+purple and grey tints of evening, the little fluffy clouds merged
+themselves into denser masses, and these too soon became absorbed in the
+great, billowy banks which the southwesterly wind was blowing seawards.
+
+By the time that the last grey streak of dusk vanished in the West, the
+whole sky looked heavy with clouds, and the evening set in, threatening
+and dark.
+
+But this by no means mitigated the anticipation of pleasure to come. On
+the contrary, the fast-gathering gloom was hailed with delight, since it
+would surely help to show off the  lights of the lanthorns, and
+give additional value to the glow of the torches.
+
+Of a truth 'twas a motley throng which began to assemble on the Place de
+la Senechaussee, just as the old bell of the Beffroi tolled the hour of
+six. Men, women and children in ragged finery, Pierrots with neck frills
+and floured faces, hideous masks of impossible beasts roughly besmeared
+in crude colours. There were gaily- dominoes, blue, green, pink
+and purple, harlequins combining all the colours of the rainbow in
+one tight-fitting garment, and Columbines with short, tarlatan skirts,
+beneath which peeped bare feet and ankles. There were judges' perruqes,
+and soldiers' helmets of past generations, tall Normandy caps adorned
+with hundreds of streaming ribbons, and powdered headgear which recalled
+the glories of Versailles.
+
+Everything was torn and dirty, the dominoes were in rags, the Pierrot
+frills, mostly made up of paper, already hung in strips over the
+wearers' shoulders. But what mattered that?
+
+The crowd pushed and jolted, shouted and laughed, the girls screamed as
+the men snatched a kiss here and there from willing or unwilling lips,
+or stole an arm round a gaily accoutred waist. The spirit of Old King
+Carnival was in the evening air--a spirit just awakened from a long Rip
+van Winkle-like sleep.
+
+In the centre of the Place stood the guillotine, grim and gaunt with
+long, thin arms stretched out towards the sky, the last glimmer of
+waning light striking the triangular knife, there, where it was not
+rusty with stains of blood.
+
+For weeks now Madame Guillotine had been much occupied plying her
+gruesome trade; she now stood there in the gloom, passive and immovable,
+seeming to wait placidly for the end of this holiday, ready to begin her
+work again on the morrow. She towered above these merrymakers, hoisted
+up on the platform whereon many an innocent foot had trodden, the
+tattered basket beside her, into which many an innocent head had rolled.
+
+What cared they to-night for Madame Guillotine and the horrors of
+which she told? A crowd of Pierrots with floured faces and tattered
+neck-frills had just swarmed up the wooden steps, shouting and laughing,
+chasing each other round and round on the platform, until one of them
+lost his footing and fell into the basket, covering himself with bran
+and staining his clothes with blood.
+
+"Ah! vogue la galere! We must be merry to-night!"
+
+And all these people who for weeks past had been staring death and the
+guillotine in the face, had denounced each other with savage callousness
+in order to save themselves, or hidden for days in dark cellars to
+escape apprehension, now laughed, and danced and shrieked with gladness
+in a sudden, hysterical outburst of joy.
+
+Close beside the guillotine stood the triumphal car of the Goddess of
+Reason, the special feature of this great national fete. It was only a
+rough market cart, painted by an unpractised hand with bright, crimson
+paint and adorned with huge clusters of autumn-tinted leaves, and the
+scarlet berries of mountain ash and rowan, culled from the town gardens,
+or the country side outside the city walls.
+
+In the cart the goddess reclined on a crimson-draped seat, she, herself,
+swathed in white, and wearing a gorgeous necklace around her neck.
+Desiree Candeille, a little pale, a little apprehensive of all this
+noise, had obeyed the final dictates of her taskmaster. She had been the
+means of bringing the Scarlet Pimpernel to France and vengeance, she was
+to be honoured therefore above every other woman in France.
+
+She sat in the car, vaguely thinking over the events of the past few
+days, whilst watching the throng of rowdy merrymakers seething around
+her. She thought of the noble-hearted, proud woman whom she had helped
+to bring from her beautiful English home to sorrow and humiliation in
+a dank French prison, she thought of the gallant English gentleman with
+his pleasant voice and courtly, debonnair manners.
+
+Chauvelin had roughly told her, only this morning, that both were now
+under arrest as English spies, and that their fate no longer concerned
+her. Later on the governor of the city had come to tell her that Citizen
+Chauvelin desired her to take part in the procession and the national
+fete, as the Goddess of Reason, and that the people of Boulogne were
+ready to welcome her as such. This had pleased Candeille's vanity, and
+all day, whilst arranging the finery which she meant to wear for the
+occasion, she had ceased to think of England and of Lady Blakeney.
+
+But now, when she arrived on the Place de la Senechaussee, and mounting
+her car, found herself on a level with the platform of the guillotine,
+her memory flew back to England, to the lavish hospitality of Blakeney
+Manor, Marguerite's gentle voice, the pleasing grace of Sir Percy's
+manners, and she shuddered a little when that cruel glint of evening
+light caused the knife of the guillotine to glisten from out the gloom.
+
+But anon her reflections were suddenly interrupted by loud and prolonged
+shouts of joy. A whole throng of Pierrots had swarmed into the Place
+from every side, carrying lighted torches and tall staves, on which were
+hung lanthorns with many- lights.
+
+The procession was ready to start. A stentorian voice shouted out in
+resonant accents:
+
+"En avant, la grosse caisse!"
+
+A man now, portly and gorgeous in scarlet and blue, detached himself
+from out the crowd. His head was hidden beneath the monstrous mask of
+a cardboard lion, roughly painted in brown and yellow, with crimson
+for the widely open jaws and the corners of the eyes, to make them seem
+ferocious and bloodshot. His coat was of bright crimson cloth, with cuts
+and slashings in it, through which bunches of bright blue paper were
+made to protrude, in imitation of the costume of mediaeval times.
+
+He had blue stockings on and bright scarlet slippers, and behind him
+floated a large strip of scarlet flannel, on which moons and suns and
+stars of gold had been showered in plenty.
+
+Upon his portly figure in front he was supporting the big drum, which
+was securely strapped round his shoulders with tarred cordages, the
+spoil of some fishing vessel.
+
+There was a merciful slit in the jaw of the cardboard lion, through
+which the portly drummer puffed and spluttered as he shouted lustily:
+
+"En avant!"
+
+And wielding the heavy drumstick with a powerful arm, he brought it
+crashing down against the side of the mighty instrument.
+
+"Hurrah! Hurrah! en avant les trompettes!"
+
+A fanfare of brass instruments followed, lustily blown by twelve
+young men in motley coats of green, and tall, peaked hats adorned with
+feathers.
+
+The drummer had begun to march, closely followed by the trumpeters.
+Behind them a bevy of Columbines in many- tarlatan skirts and
+hair flying wildly in the breeze, giggling, pushing, exchanging ribald
+jokes with the men behind, and getting kissed or slapped for their
+pains.
+
+Then the triumphal car of the goddess, with Demoiselle Candeille
+standing straight up in it, a tall gold wand in one hand, the other
+resting in a mass of scarlet berries. All round the car, helter-skelter,
+tumbling, pushing, came Pierrots and Pierrettes, carrying lanthorns, and
+Harlequins bearing the torches.
+
+And after the car the long line of more sober folk, the older fisherman,
+the women in caps and many-hued skirts, the serious townfolk who had
+scorned the travesty, yet would not be left out of the procession. They
+all began to march, to the tune of those noisy brass trumpets which were
+thundering forth snatches from the newly composed "Marseillaise."
+
+Above the sky became more heavy with clouds. Anon a few drops of rain
+began to fall, making the torches sizzle and splutter, and scatter
+grease and tar around and wetting the lightly-covered shoulders
+of tarlatan-clad Columbines. But no one cared! The glow of so much
+merrymaking kept the blood warm and the skin dry.
+
+The flour all came off the Pierrots' faces, the blue paper slashings of
+the drummer-in-chief hung in pulpy lumps against his gorgeous scarlet
+cloak. The trumpeters' feathers became streaky and bedraggled.
+
+But in the name of that good God who had ceased to exist, who in the
+world or out of it cared if it rained, or thundered and stormed! This
+was a national holiday, for an English spy was captured, and all natives
+of Boulogne were free of the guillotine to-night.
+
+The revellers were making the circuit of the town, with lanthorns
+fluttering in the wind, and flickering torches held up aloft illumining
+laughing faces, red with the glow of a drunken joy, young faces that
+only enjoyed the moment's pleasure, serious ones that withheld a frown
+at thought of the morrow. The fitful light played on the grotesque
+masques of beasts and reptiles, on the diamond necklace of a very
+earthly goddess, on God's glorious spoils from gardens and country-side,
+on smothered anxiety and repressed cruelty.
+
+The crowd had turned its back on the guillotine, and the trumpets
+now changed the inspiriting tune of the "Marseillaise" to the ribald
+vulgarity of the "Ca ira!"
+
+Everyone yelled and shouted. Girls with flowing hair produced
+broomsticks, and astride on these, broke from the ranks and danced a mad
+and obscene saraband, a dance of witches in the weird glow of sizzling
+torches, to the accompaniment of raucous laughter and of coarse jokes.
+
+Thus the procession passed on, a sight to gladden the eyes of those who
+had desired to smother all thought of the Infinite, of Eternity and of
+God in the minds of those to whom they had nothing to offer in return.
+A threat of death yesterday, misery, starvation and squalor! all the
+hideousness of a destroying anarchy, that had nothing to give save a
+national fete, a tinsel goddess, some shallow laughter and momentary
+intoxication, a travesty of clothes and of religion and a dance on the
+ashes of the past.
+
+And there along the ramparts where the massive walls of the city
+encircled the frowning prisons of Gayole and the old Chateau, dark
+groups were crouching, huddled together in compact masses, which in
+the gloom seemed to vibrate with fear. Like hunted quarry seeking for
+shelter, sombre figures flattened themselves in the angles of the
+dank walls, as the noisy carousers drew nigh. Then as the torches and
+lanthorns detached themselves from out the evening shadows, hand would
+clutch hand and hearts would beat with agonized suspense, whilst the
+dark and shapeless forms would try to appear smaller, flatter, less
+noticeable than before.
+
+And when the crowd had passed noisily along, leaving behind it a trail
+of torn finery, of glittering tinsel and of scarlet berries, when the
+boom of the big drum and the grating noise of the brass trumpets had
+somewhat died away, wan faces, pale with anxiety, would peer from out
+the darkness, and nervous hands would grasp with trembling fingers the
+small bundles of poor belongings tied up hastily in view of flight.
+
+At seven o'clock, so 'twas said, the cannon would boom from the old
+Beffroi. The guard would throw open the prison gates, and those who had
+something or somebody to hide, and those who had a great deal to fear,
+would be free to go whithersoever they chose.
+
+And mothers, sisters, sweethearts stood watching by the gates, for
+loved ones to-night would be set free, all along of the capture of that
+English spy, the Scarlet Pimpernel.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXXI: Final Dispositions
+
+
+
+To Chauvelin the day had been one of restless inquietude and nervous
+apprehension.
+
+Collot d'Herbois harassed him with questions and complaints intermixed
+with threats but thinly veiled. At his suggestion Gayole had been
+transformed into a fully-manned, well-garrisoned fortress. Troops
+were to be seen everywhere, on the stairs and in the passages, the
+guard-rooms and offices: picked men from the municipal guard, and the
+company which had been sent down from Paris some time ago.
+
+Chauvelin had not resisted these orders given by his colleague. He knew
+quite well that Marguerite would make no attempt at escape, but he had
+long ago given up all hope of persuading a man of the type of Collot
+d'Herbois that a woman of her temperament would never think of saving
+her own life at the expense of others, and that Sir Percy Blakeney, in
+spite of his adoration for his wife, would sooner see her die before
+him, than allow the lives of innocent men and women to be the price of
+hers.
+
+Collot was one of those brutish sots--not by any means infrequent among
+the Terrorists of that time--who, born in the gutter, still loved to
+wallow in his native element, and who measured all his fellow-creatures
+by the same standard which he had always found good enough for
+himself. In this man there was neither the enthusiastic patriotism of
+a Chauvelin, nor the ardent selflessness of a Danton. He served the
+revolution and fostered the anarchical spirit of the times only because
+these brought him a competence and a notoriety, which an orderly and
+fastidious government would obviously have never offered him.
+
+History shows no more despicable personality than that of Collot
+d'Herbois, one of the most hideous products of that utopian Revolution,
+whose grandly conceived theories of a universal levelling of mankind
+only succeeded in dragging into prominence a number of half-brutish
+creatures who, revelling in their own abasement, would otherwise have
+remained content in inglorious obscurity.
+
+Chauvelin tolerated and half feared Collot, knowing full well that if
+now the Scarlet Pimpernel escaped from his hands, he could expect no
+mercy from his colleagues.
+
+The scheme by which he hoped to destroy not only the heroic leader but
+the entire League by bringing opprobrium and ridicule upon them, was
+wonderfully subtle in its refined cruelty, and Chauvelin, knowing by now
+something of Sir Percy Blakeney's curiously blended character, was never
+for a moment in doubt but that he would write the infamous letter, save
+his wife by sacrificing his honour, and then seek oblivion and peace in
+suicide.
+
+With so much disgrace, so much mud cast upon their chief, the League of
+the Scarlet Pimpernel would cease to be. THAT had been Chauvelin's plan
+all along. For the end he had schemed and thought and planned, from the
+moment that Robespierre had given him the opportunity of redeeming his
+failure of last year. He had built up the edifice of his intrigue, bit
+by bit, from the introduction of his tool, Candeille, to Marguerite at
+the Richmond gala, to the arrest of Lady Blakeney in Boulogne. All that
+remained for him to see now, would be the attitude of Sir Percy Blakeney
+to-night, when, in exchange for the stipulated letter, he would see his
+wife set free.
+
+All day Chauvelin had wondered how it would all go off. He had
+stage-managed everything, but he did not know how the chief actor would
+play his part.
+
+From time to time, when his feeling of restlessness became quite
+unendurable, the ex-ambassador would wander round Fort Gayole and on
+some pretext or other demand to see one or the other of his prisoners.
+Marguerite, however, observed complete silence in his presence: she
+acknowledged his greeting with a slight inclination of the head, and
+in reply to certain perfunctory queries of his--which he put to her
+in order to justify his appearance--she either nodded or gave curt
+monosyllabic answers through partially closed lips.
+
+"I trust that everything is arranged for your comfort, Lady Blakeney."
+
+"I thank you, sir."
+
+"You will be rejoining the 'Day-Dream' to-night. Can I send a messenger
+over to the yacht for you?"
+
+"I thank you. No."
+
+"Sir Percy is well. He is fast asleep, and hath not asked for your
+ladyship. Shall I let him know that you are well?"
+
+A nod of acquiescence from Marguerite and Chauvelin's string of queries
+was at an end. He marvelled at her quietude and thought that she should
+have been as restless as himself.
+
+Later on in the day, and egged on by Collot d'Herbois and by his own
+fears, he had caused Marguerite to be removed from No. 6.
+
+This change he heralded by another brief visit to her, and his attitude
+this time was one of deferential apology.
+
+"A matter of expediency, Lady Blakeney," he explained, "and I trust that
+the change will be for your comfort."
+
+Again the same curt nod of acquiescence on her part, and a brief:
+
+"As you command, Monsieur!"
+
+But when he had gone, she turned with a sudden passionate outburst
+towards the Abbe Foucquet, her faithful companion through the past long,
+weary hours. She fell on her knees beside him and sobbed in an agony of
+grief.
+
+"Oh! if I could only know... if I could only see him!... for a minute...
+a second!... if I could only know!..."
+
+She felt as if the awful uncertainty would drive her mad.
+
+If she could only know! If she could only know what he meant to do.
+
+"The good God knows!" said the old man, with his usual simple
+philosophy, "and perhaps it is all for the best."
+
+The room which Chauvelin had now destined for Marguerite was one which
+gave from the larger one, wherein last night he had had his momentous
+interview with her and with Sir Percy.
+
+It was small, square and dark, with no window in it: only a small
+ventilating hole high up in the wall and heavily grated. Chauvelin,
+who desired to prove to her that there was no wish on his part to add
+physical discomfort to her mental tortures, had given orders that the
+little place should be made as habitable as possible. A thick, soft
+carpet had been laid on the ground; there was an easy chair and a
+comfortable-looking couch with a couple of pillows and a rug upon it,
+and oh, marvel! on the round central table, a vase with a huge bunch
+of many- dahlias which seemed to throw a note as if of gladness
+into this strange and gloomy little room.
+
+At the furthest corner, too, a construction of iron uprights and
+crossway bars had been hastily contrived and fitted with curtains,
+forming a small recess, behind which was a tidy washstand, fine clean
+towels and plenty of fresh water. Evidently the shops of Boulogne had
+been commandeered in order to render Marguerite's sojourn here outwardly
+agreeable.
+
+But as the place was innocent of window, so was it innocent of doors.
+The one that gave into the large room had been taken out of its hinges,
+leaving only the frame, on each side of which stood a man from the
+municipal guard with fixed bayonet.
+
+Chauvelin himself had conducted Marguerite to her new prison. She
+followed him--silent and apathetic--with not a trace of that awful
+torrent of emotion which had overwhelmed her but half-an-hour ago when
+she had fallen on her knees beside the old priest and sobbed her heart
+out in a passionate fit of weeping. Even the sight of the soldiers
+left her outwardly indifferent. As she stepped across the threshold she
+noticed that the door itself had been taken away: then she gave another
+quick glance at the soldiers, whose presence there would control her
+every movement.
+
+The thought of Queen Marie Antoinette in the Conciergerie prison with
+the daily, hourly humiliation and shame which this constant watch
+imposed upon her womanly pride and modesty, flashed suddenly across
+Marguerite's mind, and a deep blush of horror rapidly suffused her pale
+cheeks, whilst an almost imperceptible shudder shook her delicate frame.
+
+Perhaps, as in a flash, she had at this moment received an inkling
+of what the nature of that terrible "either--or" might be, with which
+Chauvelin was trying to force an English gentleman to dishonour. Sir
+Percy Blakeney's wife had been threatened with Marie Antoinette's fate.
+
+"You see, Madame," said her cruel enemy's unctuous voice close to her
+ear, "that we have tried our humble best to make your brief sojourn here
+as agreeable as possible. May I express a hope that you will be quite
+comfortable in this room, until the time when Sir Percy will be ready to
+accompany you to the 'Day-Dream.'"
+
+"I thank you, sir," she replied quietly.
+
+"And if there is anything you require, I pray you to call. I shall be in
+the next room all day and entirely at your service."
+
+A young orderly now entered bearing a small collation--eggs, bread, milk
+and wine--which he set on the central table. Chauvelin bowed low before
+Marguerite and withdrew. Anon he ordered the two sentinels to stand the
+other side of the doorway, against the wall of his own room, and well
+out of sight of Marguerite, so that, as she moved about her own narrow
+prison, if she ate or slept, she might have the illusion that she was
+unwatched.
+
+The sight of the soldiers had had the desired effect on her. Chauvelin
+had seen her shudder and knew that she understood of that she guessed.
+He was now satisfied and really had no wish to harass her beyond
+endurance.
+
+Moreover, there was always the proclamation which threatened the
+bread-winners of Boulogne with death if Marguerite Blakeney escaped,
+and which would be in full force until Sir Percy had written, signed and
+delivered into Chauvelin's hands the letter which was to be the signal
+for the general amnesty.
+
+Chauvelin had indeed cause to be satisfied with his measures. There was
+no fear that his prisoners would attempt to escape.
+
+Even Collot d'Herbois had to admit everything was well done. He had read
+the draft of the proposed letter and was satisfied with its contents.
+Gradually now into his loutish brain there had filtrated the conviction
+that Citizen Chauvelin was right, that that accursed Scarlet Pimpernel
+and his brood of English spies would be more effectually annihilated
+by all the dishonour and ridicule which such a letter written by the
+mysterious hero would heap upon them all, than they could ever be
+through the relentless work of the guillotine. His only anxiety now was
+whether the Englishman would write that letter.
+
+"Bah! he'll do it," he would say whenever he thought the whole matter
+over: "Sacre tonnerre! but 'tis an easy means to save his own skin."
+
+"You would sign such a letter without hesitation, eh, Citizen Collot,"
+said Chauvelin, with well-concealed sarcasm, on one occasion when his
+colleague discussed the all-absorbing topic with him; "you would show
+no hesitation, if your life were at stake, and you were given the choice
+between writing that letter and... the guillotine?"
+
+"Parbleu!" responded Collot with conviction.
+
+"More especially," continued Chauvelin drily, "if a million francs were
+promised you as well?"
+
+"Sacre Anglais!" swore Collot angrily, "you don't propose giving him that
+money, do you?"
+
+"We'll place it ready to his hand, at any rate, so that it should appear
+as if he had actually taken it."
+
+Collot looked up at his colleague in ungrudging admiration. Chauvelin
+had indeed left nothing undone, had thought everything out in this
+strangely conceived scheme for the destruction of the enemy of France.
+
+"But in the name of all the dwellers in hell, Citizen," admonished
+Collot, "guard that letter well, once it is in your hands."
+
+"I'll do better than that," said Chauvelin, "I will hand it over to you,
+Citizen Collot, and you shall ride with it to Paris at once."
+
+"To-night!" assented Collot with a shout of triumph, as he brought his
+grimy fist crashing down on the table, "I'll have a horse ready saddled
+at this very gate, and an escort of mounted men... we'll ride like
+hell's own furies and not pause to breathe until that letter is in
+Citizen Robespierre's hands."
+
+"Well thought of, Citizen," said Chauvelin approvingly. "I pray you
+give the necessary orders, that the horses be ready saddled, and the
+men booted and spurred, and waiting at the Gayole gate, at seven o'clock
+this evening."
+
+"I wish the letter were written and safely in our hands by now."
+
+"Nay! the Englishman will have it ready by this evening, never fear. The
+tide is high at half-past seven, and he will be in haste for his wife to
+be aboard his yacht, ere the turn, even if he..."
+
+He paused, savouring the thoughts which had suddenly flashed across his
+mind, and a look of intense hatred and cruel satisfaction for a moment
+chased away the studied impassiveness of his face.
+
+"What do you mean, Citizen?" queried Collot anxiously, "even if he...
+what?..."
+
+"Oh! nothing, nothing! I was only trying to make vague guesses as to
+what the Englishman will do AFTER he has written the letter," quoth
+Chauvelin reflectively.
+
+"Morbleu! he'll return to his own accursed country... glad enough to
+have escaped with his skin.... I suppose," added Collot with sudden
+anxiety, "you have no fear that he will refuse at the last moment to
+write that letter?"
+
+The two men were sitting in the large room, out of which opened the one
+which was now occupied by Marguerite. They were talking at the further
+end of it, close to the window, and though Chauvelin had mostly spoken
+in a whisper, Collot had ofttimes shouted, and the ex-ambassador was
+wondering how much Marguerite had heard.
+
+Now at Collot's anxious query he gave a quick furtive glance in the
+direction of the further room wherein she sat, so silent and so still,
+that it seemed almost as if she must be sleeping.
+
+"You don't think that the Englishman will refuse to write the letter?"
+insisted Collot with angry impatience.
+
+"No!" replied Chauvelin quietly.
+
+"But if he does?" persisted the other.
+
+"If he does, I send the woman to Paris to-night and have him hanged as
+a spy in this prison yard without further formality or trial..." replied
+Chauvelin firmly; "so either way, you see, Citizen," he added in a
+whisper, "the Scarlet Pimpernel is done for.... But I think that he will
+write the letter."
+
+"Parbleu! so do I!..." rejoined Collot with a coarse laugh.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXXII: The Letter
+
+
+
+Later on, when his colleague left him in order to see to the horses and
+to his escort for to-night, Chauvelin called Sergeant Hebert, his old
+and trusted familiar, to him and gave him some final orders.
+
+"The Angelus must be rung at the proper hour, friend Hebert," he began
+with a grim smile.
+
+"The Angelus, Citizen?" quoth the Sergeant, with complete stupefaction,
+"'tis months now since it has been rung. It was forbidden by a decree of
+the Convention, and I doubt me if any of our men would know how to set
+about it."
+
+Chauvelin's eyes were fixed before him in apparent vacancy, while the
+same grim smile still hovered round his thin lips. Something of that
+irresponsible spirit of adventure which was the mainspring of all Sir
+Percy Blakeney's actions, must for the moment have pervaded the mind of
+his deadly enemy.
+
+Chauvelin had thought out this idea of having the Angelus rung to-night,
+and was thoroughly pleased with the notion. This was the day when the
+duel was to have been fought; seven o'clock would have been the very
+hour, and the sound of the Angelus to have been the signal for combat,
+and there was something very satisfying in the thought, that that same
+Angelus should be rung, as a signal that the Scarlet Pimpernel was
+withered and broken at last.
+
+In answer to Hebert's look of bewilderment Chauvelin said quietly:
+
+"We must have some signal between ourselves and the guard at the
+different gates, also with the harbour officials: at a given moment the
+general amnesty must take effect and the harbour become a free port. I
+have a fancy that the signal shall be the ringing of the Angelus: the
+cannons at the gates and the harbour can boom in response; then the
+prisons can be thrown open and prisoners can either participate in
+the evening fete or leave the city immediately, as they choose. The
+Committee of Public Safety has promised the amnesty: it will carry out
+its promise to the full, and when Citizen Collot d'Herbois arrives in
+Paris with the joyful news, all natives of Boulogne in the prisons there
+will participate in the free pardon too."
+
+"I understand all that, Citizen," said Hebert, still somewhat
+bewildered, "but not the Angelus."
+
+"A fancy, friend Hebert, and I mean to have it."
+
+"But who is to ring it, Citizen?"
+
+"Morbleu! haven't you one calotin left in Boulogne whom you can press
+into doing this service?"
+
+"Aye! calotins enough! there's the Abbe Foucquet in this very
+building... in No. 6 cell..."
+
+"Sacre tonnerre!" ejaculated Chauvelin exultingly, "the very man! I
+know his dossier well! Once he is free, he will make straightway for
+England... he and his family... and will help to spread the glorious
+news of the dishonour and disgrace of the much-vaunted Scarlet
+Pimpernel!... The very man, friend Hebert!... Let him be stationed
+here... to see the letter written... to see the money handed over--for
+we will go through with that farce--and make him understand that the
+moment I give him the order, he can run over to his old church St.
+Joseph and ring the Angelus. ... The old fool will be delighted... more
+especially when he knows that he will thereby be giving the very signal
+which will set his own sister's children free.... You understand?..."
+
+"I understand, Citizen."
+
+"And you can make the old calotin understand?"
+
+"I think so, Citizen.... You want him in this room.... At what time?"
+
+"A quarter before seven."
+
+"Yes. I'll bring him along myself, and stand over him, lest he play any
+pranks."
+
+"Oh! he'll not trouble you," sneered Chauvelin, "he'll be deeply
+interested in the proceedings. The woman will be here too, remember," he
+added with a jerky movement of the hand in the direction of Marguerite's
+room, "the two might be made to stand together, with four of your
+fellows round them."
+
+"I understand, Citizen. Are any of us to escort the Citizen Foucquet
+when he goes to St. Joseph?"
+
+"Aye! two men had best go with him. There will be a crowd in the streets
+by then... How far is it from here to the church?"
+
+"Less than five minutes."
+
+"Good. See to it that the doors are opened and the bell ropes easy of
+access."
+
+"It shall be seen to, Citizen. How many men will you have inside this
+room to-night?"
+
+"Let the walls be lined with men whom you can trust. I anticipate
+neither trouble nor resistance. The whole thing is a simple formality to
+which the Englishman has already intimated his readiness to submit. If
+he changes his mind at the last moment there will be no Angelus rung, no
+booming of the cannons or opening of the prison doors: there will be
+no amnesty, and no free pardon. The woman will be at once conveyed
+to Paris, and... But he'll not change his mind, friend Hebert," he
+concluded in suddenly altered tones, and speaking quite lightly, "he'll
+not change his mind."
+
+The conversation between Chauvelin and his familiar had been carried on
+in whispers: not that the Terrorist cared whether Marguerite overheard
+or not, but whispering had become a habit with this man, whose tortuous
+ways and subtle intrigues did not lend themselves to discussion in a
+loud voice.
+
+Chauvelin was sitting at the central table, just where he had been
+last night when Sir Percy Blakeney's sudden advent broke in on his
+meditations. The table had been cleared of the litter of multitudinous
+papers which had encumbered it before. On it now there were only a
+couple of heavy pewter candlesticks, with the tallow candles fixed ready
+in them, a leather-pad, an ink-well, a sand-box and two or three quill
+pens: everything disposed, in fact, for the writing and signing of the
+letter.
+
+Already in imagination, Chauvelin saw his impudent enemy, the bold and
+daring adventurer, standing there beside that table and putting his name
+to the consummation of his own infamy. The mental picture thus evoked
+brought a gleam of cruel satisfaction and of satiated lust into the
+keen, ferret-like face, and a smile of intense joy lit up the narrow,
+pale- eyes.
+
+He looked round the room where the great scene would be enacted: two
+soldiers were standing guard outside Marguerite's prison, two more at
+attention near the door which gave on the passage: his own half-dozen
+picked men were waiting his commands in the corridor. Presently the
+whole room would be lined with troops, himself and Collot standing with
+eyes fixed on the principal actor of the drama! Hebert with specially
+selected troopers standing on guard over Marguerite!
+
+No, no! he had left nothing to chance this time, and down below the
+horses would be ready saddled, that were to convey Collot and the
+precious document to Paris.
+
+No! nothing was left to chance, and in either case he was bound to win.
+Sir Percy Blakeney would either write the letter in order to save
+his wife, and heap dishonour on himself, or he would shrink from the
+terrible ordeal at the last moment and let Chauvelin and the Committee
+of Public Safety work their will with her and him.
+
+"In that case the pillory as a spy and summary hanging for you, my
+friend," concluded Chauvelin in his mind, "and for your wife... Bah,
+once you are out of the way, even she will cease to matter."
+
+He left Hebert on guard in the room. An irresistible desire seized him
+to go and have a look at his discomfited enemy, and from the latter's
+attitude make a shrewd guess as to what he meant to do to-night.
+
+Sir Percy had been given a room on one of the upper floors of the old
+prison. He had in no way been closely guarded, and the room itself
+had been made as comfortable as may be. He had seemed quite happy and
+contented when he had been conducted hither by Chauvelin, the evening
+before.
+
+"I hope you quite understand, Sir Percy, that you are my guest here
+to-night," Chauvelin had said suavely, "and that you are free to come
+and go, just as you please."
+
+"Lud love you, sir," Sir Percy had replied gaily, "but I verily believe
+that I am."
+
+"It is only Lady Blakeney whom we have cause to watch until to-morrow,"
+added Chauvelin with quiet significance. "Is that not so, Sir Percy?"
+
+But Sir Percy seemed, whenever his wife's name was mentioned, to lapse
+into irresistible somnolence. He yawned now with his usual affectation,
+and asked at what hour gentlemen in France were wont to breakfast.
+
+Since then Chauvelin had not seen him. He had repeatedly asked how the
+English prisoner was faring, and whether he seemed to be sleeping and
+eating heartily. The orderly in charge invariably reported that the
+Englishman seemed well, but did not eat much. On the other hand, he
+had ordered, and lavishly paid for, measure after measure of brandy and
+bottle after bottle of wine.
+
+"Hm! how strange these Englishmen are!" mused Chauvelin; "this so-called
+hero is nothing but a wine-sodden brute, who seeks to nerve himself for
+a trying ordeal by drowning his faculties in brandy... Perhaps after all
+he doesn't care!..."
+
+But the wish to have a look at that strangely complex creature--hero,
+adventurer or mere lucky fool--was irresistible, and Chauvelin in the
+latter part of the afternoon went up to the room which had been allotted
+to Sir Percy Blakeney.
+
+He never moved now without his escort, and this time also two of his
+favourite bodyguards accompanied him to the upper floor. He knocked at
+the door, but received no answer, and after a second or two he bade his
+men wait in the corridor and, gently turning the latch, walked in.
+
+There was an odour of brandy in the air; on the table two or three empty
+bottles of wine and a glass half filled with cognac testified to the
+truth of what the orderly had said, whilst sprawling across the camp
+bedstead, which obviously was too small for his long limbs, his head
+thrown back, his mouth open for a vigorous snore, lay the imperturbable
+Sir Percy fast asleep.
+
+Chauvelin went up to the bedstead and looked down upon the reclining
+figure of the man who had oft been called the most dangerous enemy of
+Republican France.
+
+Of a truth, a fine figure of a man, Chauvelin was ready enough to admit
+that; the long, hard limbs, the wide chest, and slender, white hands,
+all bespoke the man of birth, breeding and energy: the face too looked
+strong and clearly-cut in repose, now that the perpetually inane smile
+did not play round the firm lips, nor the lazy, indolent expression
+mar the seriousness of the straight brow. For one moment--it was a mere
+flash--Chauvelin felt almost sorry that so interesting a career should
+be thus ignominiously brought to a close.
+
+The Terrorist felt that if his own future, his own honour and integrity
+were about to be so hopelessly crushed, he would have wandered up and
+down this narrow room like a caged beast, eating out his heart with
+self-reproach and remorse, and racking his nerves and brain for an issue
+out of the terrible alternative which meant dishonour or death.
+
+But this man drank and slept.
+
+"Perhaps he doesn't care!"
+
+And as if in answer to Chauvelin's puzzled musing a deep snore escaped
+the sleeping adventurer's parted lips.
+
+Chauvelin sighed, perplexed and troubled. He looked round the little
+room, then went up to a small side table which stood against the wall
+and on which were two or three quill pens and an ink-well, also some
+loosely scattered sheets of paper. These he turned over with a careless
+hand and presently came across a closely written page. ---- "Citizen
+Chauvelin:--In consideration of a further sum of one million francs..."
+
+It was the beginning of the letter!... only a few words so far... with
+several corrections of misspelt words... and a line left out here and
+there which confused the meaning... a beginning made by the unsteady
+hand of that drunken fool... an attempt only at present....
+
+But still... a beginning.
+
+Close by was the draft of it as written out by Chauvelin, and which Sir
+Percy had evidently begun to copy.
+
+He had made up his mind then.... He meant to subscribe with his own hand
+to his lasting dishonour... and meaning it, he slept!
+
+Chauvelin felt the paper trembling in his hand. He felt strangely
+agitated and nervous, now that the issue was so near... so sure!...
+
+"There's no demmed hurry for that, is there... er... Monsieur
+Chaubertin?..." came from the slowly wakening Sir Percy in somewhat
+thick, heavy accents, accompanied by a prolonged yawn. "I haven't got
+the demmed thing quite ready..."
+
+Chauvelin had been so startled that the paper dropped from his hand. He
+stooped to pick it up.
+
+"Nay! why should you be so scared, sir?" continued Sir Percy lazily,
+"did you think I was drunk?... I assure you, sir, on my honour, I am not
+so drunk as you think I am."
+
+"I have no doubt, Sir Percy," replied Chauvelin ironically, "that you
+have all your marvellous faculties entirely at your command.... I
+must apologize for disturbing your papers," he added, replacing the
+half-written page on the table, "I thought perhaps that if the letter
+was ready ..."
+
+"It will be, sir... it will be... for I am not drunk, I assure you....
+and can write with a steady hand... and do honour to my signature...."
+
+"When will you have the letter ready, Sir Percy?"
+
+"The 'Day-Dream' must leave the harbour at the turn of the tide," quoth
+Sir Percy thickly. "It'll be demmed well time by then... won't it,
+sir?..."
+
+"About sundown, Sir Percy... not later..."
+
+"About sundown... not later..." muttered Blakeney, as he once more
+stretched his long limbs along the narrow bed.
+
+He gave a loud and hearty yawn.
+
+"I'll not fail you..." he murmured, as he closed his eyes, and gave a
+final struggle to get his head at a comfortable angle, "the letter will
+be written in my best cali... calig.... Lud! but I'm not so drunk as you
+think I am. ..."
+
+But as if to belie his own oft-repeated assertion, hardly was the last
+word out of his mouth than his stertorous and even breathing proclaimed
+the fact that he was once more fast asleep.
+
+With a shrug of the shoulders and a look of unutterable contempt at
+his broken-down enemy, Chauvelin turned on his heel and went out of the
+room.
+
+But outside in the corridor he called the orderly to him and gave strict
+commands that no more wine or brandy was to be served to the Englishman
+under any circumstances whatever.
+
+"He has two hours in which to sleep off the effects of all that brandy
+which he had consumed," he mused as he finally went back to his own
+quarters, "and by that time he will be able to write with a steady
+hand."
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXXIII: The English Spy
+
+
+
+And now at last the shades of evening were drawing in thick and fast.
+Within the walls of Fort Gayole the last rays of the setting sun had
+long ago ceased to shed their dying radiance, and through the thick
+stone embrasures and the dusty panes of glass, the grey light of dusk
+soon failed to penetrate.
+
+In the large ground-floor room with its window opened upon the wide
+promenade of the southern ramparts, a silence reigned which was
+oppressive. The air was heavy with the fumes of the two tallow candles
+on the table, which smoked persistently.
+
+Against the walls a row of figures in dark blue uniforms with scarlet
+facings, drab breeches and heavy riding boots, silent and immovable,
+with fixed bayonets like so many automatons lining the room all round;
+at some little distance from the central table and out of the immediate
+circle of light, a small group composed of five soldiers in the same
+blue and scarlet uniforms. One of these was Sergeant Hebert. In the
+centre of this group two persons were sitting: a woman and an old man.
+
+The Abbe Foucquet had been brought down from his prison cell a few
+minutes ago, and told to watch what would go on around him, after which
+he would be allowed to go to his old church of St. Joseph and ring the
+Angelus once more before he and his family left Boulogne forever.
+
+The Angelus would be the signal for the opening of all the prison gates
+in the town. Everyone to-night could come and go as they pleased, and
+having rung the Angelus, the abbe would be at liberty to join Francois
+and Felicite and their old mother, his sister, outside the purlieus of
+the town.
+
+The Abbe Foucquet did not quite understand all this, which was very
+rapidly and roughly explained to him. It was such a very little while
+ago that he had expected to see the innocent children mounting up those
+awful steps which lead to the guillotine, whilst he himself was looking
+death quite near in the face, that all this talk of amnesty and of
+pardon had not quite fully reached his brain.
+
+But he was quite content that it had all been ordained by le bon Dieu,
+and very happy at the thought of ringing the dearly-loved Angelus in his
+own old church once again. So when he was peremptorily pushed into the
+room and found himself close to Marguerite, with four or five soldiers
+standing round them, he quietly pulled his old rosary from his pocket
+and began murmuring gentle "Paters" and "Aves" under his breath.
+
+Beside him sat Marguerite, rigid as a statue: her cloak thrown over her
+shoulders, so that its hood might hide her face. She could not now have
+said how that awful day had passed, how she had managed to survive the
+terrible, nerve-racking suspense, the agonizing doubt as to what was
+going to happen. But above all, what she had found most unendurable was
+the torturing thought that in this same grim and frowning building her
+husband was there... somewhere... how far or how near she could not
+say... but she knew that she was parted from him and perhaps would not
+see him again, not even at the hour of death.
+
+That Percy would never write that infamous letter and LIVE, she knew.
+That he might write it in order to save her, she feared was possible,
+whilst the look of triumph on Chauvelin's face had aroused her most
+agonizing terrors.
+
+When she was summarily ordered to go into the next room, she realized
+at once that all hope now was more than futile. The walls lined with
+troops, the attitude of her enemies, and above all that table with
+paper, ink and pens ready as it were for the accomplishment of the
+hideous and monstrous deed, all made her very heart numb, as if it were
+held within the chill embrace of death.
+
+"If the woman moves, speaks or screams, gag her at once!" said Collot
+roughly the moment she sat down, and Sergeant Hebert stood over her,
+gag and cloth in hand, whilst two soldiers placed heavy hands on her
+shoulders.
+
+But she neither moved nor spoke, not even presently when a loud and
+cheerful voice came echoing from a distant corridor, and anon the door
+opened and her husband came in, accompanied by Chauvelin.
+
+The ex-ambassador was very obviously in a state of acute nervous
+tension; his hands were tightly clasped behind his back, and his
+movements were curiously irresponsible and jerky. But Sir Percy Blakeney
+looked a picture of calm unconcern: the lace bow at his throat was tied
+with scrupulous care, his eyeglass upheld at quite the correct angle,
+and his delicate- caped coat was thrown back just sufficiently
+to afford a glimpse of the dainty cloth suit and exquisitely embroidered
+waistcoat beneath.
+
+He was the perfect presentation of a London dandy, and might have
+been entering a royal drawing-room in company with an honoured guest.
+Marguerite's eyes were riveted on him as he came well within the circle
+of light projected by the candles, but not even with that acute sixth
+sense of a passionate and loving woman could she detect the slightest
+tremor in the aristocratic hands which held the gold-rimmed eyeglass,
+nor the faintest quiver of the firmly moulded lips.
+
+This had occurred just as the bell of the old Beffroi chimed
+three-quarters after six. Now it was close on seven, and in the centre
+of the room and with his face and figure well lighted up by the candles,
+at the table pen in hand sat Sir Percy writing.
+
+At his elbow just behind him stood Chauvelin on the one side and Collot
+d'Herbois on the other, both watching with fixed and burning eyes the
+writing of that letter.
+
+Sir Percy seemed in no hurry. He wrote slowly and deliberately,
+carefully copying the draft of the letter which was propped up in front
+of him. The spelling of some of the French words seemed to have
+troubled him at first, for when he began he made many facetious
+and self-deprecatory remarks anent his own want of education, and
+carelessness in youth in acquiring the gentle art of speaking so elegant
+a language.
+
+Presently, however, he appeared more at his ease, or perhaps less
+inclined to talk, since he only received curt monosyllabic answers to
+his pleasant sallies. Five minutes had gone by without any other sound,
+save the spasmodic creak of Sir Percy's pen upon the paper, the while
+Chauvelin and Collot watched every word he wrote.
+
+But gradually from afar there had arisen in the stillness of evening a
+distant, rolling noise like that of surf breaking against the cliffs.
+Nearer and louder it grew, and as it increased in volume, so it gained
+now in diversity. The monotonous, roll-like, far-off thunder was just as
+continuous as before, but now shriller notes broke out from amongst
+the more remote sounds, a loud laugh seemed ever and anon to pierce the
+distance and to rise above the persistent hubbub, which became the mere
+accompaniment to these isolated tones.
+
+The merrymakers of Boulogne, having started from the Place de la
+Senechaussee, were making the round of the town by the wide avenue which
+tops the ramparts. They were coming past the Fort Gayole, shouting,
+singing, brass trumpets in front, big drum ahead, drenched, hot, and
+hoarse, but supremely happy.
+
+Sir Percy looked up for a moment as the noise drew neared, then turned
+to Chauvelin and pointing to the letter, he said:
+
+"I have nearly finished!"
+
+The suspense in the smoke-laden atmosphere of this room was becoming
+unendurable, and four hearts at least were beating wildly with
+overpowering anxiety. Marguerite's eyes were fixed with tender intensity
+on the man she so passionately loved. She did not understand his actions
+or his motives, but she felt a wild longing in her, to drink in every
+line of that loved face, as if with this last, long look she was bidding
+an eternal farewell to all hopes of future earthly happiness.
+
+The old priest had ceased to tell his beads. Feeling in his kindly heart
+the echo of the appalling tragedy which was being enacted before him, he
+had put out a fatherly, tentative hand towards Marguerite, and given her
+icy fingers a comforting pressure.
+
+And in the hearts of Chauvelin and his colleague there was satisfied
+revenge, eager, exultant triumph and that terrible nerve-tension which
+immediately precedes the long-expected climax.
+
+But who can say what went on within the heart of that bold adventurer,
+about to be brought to the lowest depths of humiliation which it is in
+the power of man to endure? What behind that smooth unruffled brow still
+bent laboriously over the page of writing?
+
+The crowd was now on the Place Daumont; some of the foremost in
+the ranks were ascending the stone steps which lead to the southern
+ramparts. The noise had become incessant: Pierrots and Pierrettes,
+Harlequins and Columbines had worked themselves up into a veritable
+intoxication of shouts and laughter.
+
+Now as they all swarmed up the steps and caught sight of the open window
+almost on a level with the ground, and of the large dimly-lighted room,
+they gave forth one terrific and voluminous "Hurrah!" for the paternal
+government up in Paris, who had given them cause for all this joy. Then
+they recollected how the amnesty, the pardon, the national fete, this
+brilliant procession had come about, and somebody in the crowd shouted:
+
+"Allons! les us have a look at that English spy!..."
+
+"Let us see the Scarlet Pimpernel!"
+
+"Yes! yes! let us see what he is like!"
+
+They shouted and stamped and swarmed round the open window, swinging
+their lanthorns and demanding in a loud tone of voice that the English
+spy be shown to them.
+
+Faces wet with rain and perspiration tried to peep in at the window.
+Collot gave brief orders to the soldiers to close the shutters at once
+and to push away the crowd, but the crowd would not be pushed. It would
+not be gainsaid, and when the soldiers tried to close the window, twenty
+angry fists broke the panes of glass.
+
+"I can't finish this writing in your lingo, sir, whilst this demmed row
+is going on," said Sir Percy placidly.
+
+"You have not much more to write, Sir Percy," urged Chauvelin with
+nervous impatience, "I pray you, finish the matter now, and get you gone
+from out this city."
+
+"Send that demmed lot away, then," rejoined Sir Percy calmly.
+
+"They won't go.... They want to see you..."
+
+Sir Percy paused a moment, pen in hand, as if in deep reflection.
+
+"They want to see me," he said with a laugh. "Why, demn it all... then,
+why not let em?..."
+
+And with a few rapid strokes of the pen, he quickly finished the letter,
+adding his signature with a bold flourish, whilst the crowd, pushing,
+jostling, shouting and cursing the soldiers, still loudly demanded to
+see the Scarlet Pimpernel.
+
+Chauvelin felt as if his heart would veritably burst with the wildness
+of its beating.
+
+Then Sir Percy, with one hand lightly pressed on the letter, pushed his
+chair away and with his pleasant ringing voice, said once again:
+
+"Well! demn it... let 'em see me!..."
+
+With that he sprang to his feet and up to his full height, and as he did
+so he seized the two massive pewter candlesticks, one in each hand, and
+with powerful arms well outstretched he held them high above his head.
+
+"The letter..." murmured Chauvelin in a hoarse whisper.
+
+But even as he was quickly reaching out a hand, which shook with the
+intensity of his excitement, towards the letter on the table, Blakeney,
+with one loud and sudden shout, threw the heavy candlesticks onto
+the floor. They rattled down with a terrific crash, the lights were
+extinguished, and the whole room was immediately plunged in utter
+darkness.
+
+The crowd gave a wild yell of fear: they had only caught sight for
+one instant of that gigantic figure--which, with arms outstretched had
+seemed supernaturally tall--weirdly illumined by the flickering light of
+the tallow candles and the next moment disappearing into utter darkness
+before their very gaze. Overcome with sudden superstitious fear,
+Pierrots and Pierrettes, drummer and trumpeters turned and fled in every
+direction.
+
+Within the room all was wild confusion. The soldiers had heard a cry:
+
+"La fenetre! La fenetre!"
+
+Who gave it no one knew, no one could afterwards recollect: certain it
+is that with one accord the majority of the men made a rush for the open
+window, driven thither partly by the wild instinct of the chase after
+an escaping enemy, and partly by the same superstitious terror which had
+caused the crowd to flee. They clambered over the sill and dropped down
+on to the ramparts below, then started in wild pursuit.
+
+But when the crash came, Chauvelin had given one frantic shout:
+
+"The letter!!!... Collot!!... A moi.... In his hand.... The letter!..."
+
+There was the sound of a heavy thud, of a terrible scuffle there on the
+floor in the darkness and then a yell of victory from Collot d'Herbois.
+
+"I have the letter! A Paris!"
+
+"Victory!" echoed Chauvelin, exultant and panting, "victory!! The
+Angelus, friend Hebert! Take the calotin to ring the Angelus!!!"
+
+It was instinct which caused Collot d'Herbois to find the door; he tore
+it open, letting in a feeble ray of light from the corridor. He stood in
+the doorway one moment, his slouchy, ungainly form distinctly outlined
+against the lighter background beyond, a look of exultant and malicious
+triumph, of deadly hate and cruelty distinctly imprinted on his face and
+with upraised hand wildly flourishing the precious document, the brand
+of dishonour for the enemy of France.
+
+"A Paris!" shouted Chauvelin to him excitedly. "Into Robespierre's
+hands. ... The letter!..."
+
+Then he fell back panting, exhausted on the nearest chair.
+
+Collot, without looking again behind him, called wildly for the men
+who were to escort him to Paris. They were picked troopers, stalwart
+veterans from the old municipal guard. They had not broken their ranks
+throughout the turmoil, and fell into line in perfect order as they
+followed Citizen Collot out of the room.
+
+Less than five minutes later there was the noise of stamping and
+champing of bits in the courtyard below, a shout from Collot, and the
+sound of a cavalcade galloping at break-neck speed towards the distant
+Paris gate.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXXIV: The Angelus
+
+
+
+And gradually all noises died away around the old Fort Gayole. The
+shouts and laugher of the merrymakers, who had quickly recovered from
+their fright, now came only as the muffled rumble of a distant storm,
+broken here and there by the shrill note of a girl's loud laughter, or a
+vigorous fanfare from the brass trumpets.
+
+The room where so much turmoil had taken place, where so many hearts had
+beaten with torrent-like emotions, where the awesome tragedy of revenge
+and hate, of love and passion had been consummated, was now silent and
+at peace.
+
+The soldiers had gone: some in pursuit of the revellers, some with
+Collot d'Herbois, others with Hebert and the calotin who was to ring the
+Angelus.
+
+Chauvelin, overcome with the intensity of his exultation and the agony
+of the suspense which he had endured, sat, vaguely dreaming, hardly
+conscious, but wholly happy and content. Fearless, too, for his triumph
+was complete, and he cared not now if he lived or died.
+
+He had lived long enough to see the complete annihilation and dishonour
+of his enemy.
+
+What had happened to Sir Percy Blakeney now, what to Marguerite, he
+neither knew nor cared. No doubt the Englishman had picked himself up
+and got away through the window or the door: he would be anxious to get
+his wife out of the town as quickly as possible. The Angelus would
+ring directly, the gates would be opened, the harbour made free to
+everyone....
+
+And Collot was a league outside Boulogne by now... a league nearer to
+Paris.
+
+So what mattered the humbled wayside English flower?--the damaged and
+withered Scarlet Pimpernel?...
+
+A slight noise suddenly caused him to start. He had been dreaming, no
+doubt, having fallen into some kind of torpor, akin to sleep, after the
+deadly and restless fatigue of the past four days. He certainly had been
+unconscious of everything around him, of time and of place. But now he
+felt fully awake.
+
+And again he heard that slight noise, as if something or someone was
+moving in the room.
+
+He tried to peer into the darkness, but could distinguish nothing.
+He rose and went to the door. It was still open, and close behind it
+against the wall a small oil lamp was fixed which lit up the corridor.
+
+Chauvelin detached the lamp and came back with it into the room. Just
+as he did so there came to his ears the first sound of the little church
+bell ringing the Angelus.
+
+He stepped into the room holding the lamp high above his head; its
+feeble rays fell full upon the brilliant figure of Sir Percy Blakeney.
+
+He was smiling pleasantly, bowing slightly towards Chauvelin, and in his
+hand he held the sheathed sword, the blade of which had been fashioned
+in Toledo for Lorenzo Cenci, and the fellow of which was lying
+now--Chauvelin himself knew not where.
+
+"The day and hour, Monsieur, I think," said Sir Percy with courtly
+grace, "when you and I are to cross swords together; those are the
+southern ramparts, meseems. Will you precede, sir? and I will follow."
+
+At sight of this man, of his impudence and of his daring, Chauvelin felt
+an icy grip on his heart. His cheeks became ashen white, his thin lips
+closed with a snap, and the hand which held the lamp aloft trembled
+visibly. Sir Percy stood before him, still smiling and with a graceful
+gesture pointing towards the ramparts.
+
+From the Church of St. Joseph the gentle, melancholy tones of the
+Angelus sounding the second Ave Maria came faintly echoing in the
+evening air.
+
+With a violent effort Chauvelin forced himself to self-control,
+and tried to shake off the strange feeling of obsession which had
+overwhelmed him in the presence of this extraordinary man. He walked
+quite quietly up to the table and placed the lamp upon it. As in a flash
+recollection had come back to him.. the past few minutes!... the letter!
+and Collot well on his way to Paris!
+
+Bah! he had nothing to fear now, save perhaps death at the hand of this
+adventurer turned assassin in his misery and humiliation!
+
+"A truce on this folly, Sir Percy," he said roughly, "as you well know,
+I had never any intention of fighting you with these poisoned swords of
+yours and..."
+
+"I knew that, M. Chauvelin.... But do YOU know that I have the intention
+of killing you now... as you stand... like a dog!..."
+
+And throwing down the sword with one of those uncontrolled outbursts of
+almost animal passion, which for one instant revealed the real, inner
+man, he went up to Chauvelin and towering above him like a great
+avenging giant, he savoured for one second the joy of looking down on
+that puny, slender figure which he could crush with sheer brute force,
+with one blow from his powerful hands.
+
+But Chauvelin at this moment was beyond fear.
+
+"And if you killed me now, Sir Percy," he said quietly and looking the
+man whom he so hated fully in the eyes, "you could not destroy that
+letter which my colleague is taking to Paris at this very moment."
+
+As he had anticipated, his words seemed to change Sir Percy's mood in
+an instant. The passion in the handsome, aristocratic face faded in
+a trice, the hard lines round the jaw and lips relaxed, the fire of
+revenge died out from the lazy blue eyes, and the next moment a long,
+loud, merry laugh raised the dormant echoes of the old fort.
+
+"Nay, Monsieur Chaubertin," said Sir Percy gaily, "but this is
+marvellous... demmed marvellous... do you hear that, m'dear?...
+Gadzooks! but 'tis the best joke I have heard this past
+twelve-months.... Monsieur here thinks... Lud! but I shall die of
+laughing.... Monsieur here thinks... that 'twas that demmed letter which
+went to Paris... and that an English gentleman lay scuffling on the
+floor and allowed a letter to be filched from him..."
+
+"Sir Percy!..." gasped Chauvelin, as an awful thought seemed suddenly to
+flash across his fevered brain.
+
+"Lud, sir, you are astonishing!" said Sir Percy, taking a very much
+crumpled sheet of paper from the capacious pocket of his elegant caped
+coat, and holding it close to Chauvelin's horror-stricken gaze. "THIS is
+the letter which I wrote at that table yonder in order to gain time and
+in order to fool you.... But, by the Lord, you are a bigger demmed fool
+than ever I took you to be, if you thought it would serve any other
+purpose save that of my hitting you in the face with it."
+
+And with a quick and violent gesture he struck Chauvelin full in the
+face with the paper.
+
+"You would like to know, Monsieur Chaubertin, would you not?..." he
+added pleasantly, "what letter it is that your friend, Citizen Collot,
+is taking in such hot haste to Paris for you.... Well! the letter is
+not long and 'tis written in verse.... I wrote it myself upstairs to-day
+whilst you thought me sodden with brandy and three-parts asleep. But
+brandy is easily flung out of the window.... Did you think I drank it
+all?... Nay! as you remember, I told you that I was not so drunk as you
+thought?... Aye! the letter is writ in English verse, Monsieur, and it
+reads thus:
+
+"We seek him here! we seek him there! Those Frenchies seek him
+everywhere! Is he in heaven? is he in hell? That demmed elusive
+Pimpernel?
+
+"A neat rhyme, I fancy, Monsieur, and one which will, if rightly
+translated, greatly please your friend and ruler, Citizen
+Robespierre.... Your colleague Citizen Collot is well on his way to
+Paris with it by now. ... No, no, Monsieur... as you rightly said just
+now... I really could not kill you... God having blessed me with the
+saving sense of humour..."
+
+Even as he spoke the third Ave Maria of the Angelus died away on the
+morning air. From the harbour the old Chateau there came the loud boom
+of cannon.
+
+The hour of the opening of the gates, of the general amnesty and free
+harbour was announced throughout Boulogne.
+
+Chauvelin was livid with rage, fear and baffled revenge. He made a
+sudden rush for the door in a blind desire to call for help, but Sir
+Percy had toyed long enough with his prey. The hour was speeding on:
+Hebert and some of the soldiers might return, and it was time to think
+of safety and of flight. Quick as a hunted panther, he had interposed
+his tall figure between his enemy and the latter's chance of calling for
+aid, then, seizing the little man by the shoulders, he pushed him back
+into that portion of the room where Marguerite and the Abbe Foucquet had
+been lately sitting.
+
+The gag, with cloth and cord, which had been intended for a woman were
+lying on the ground close by, just where Hebert had dropped them, when
+he marched the old Abbe off to the Church.
+
+With quick and dexterous hands, Sir Percy soon reduced Chauvelin to
+an impotent and silent bundle. The ex-ambassador after four days of
+harrowing nerve-tension, followed by so awful a climax, was weakened
+physically and mentally, whilst Blakeney, powerful, athletic and always
+absolutely unperturbed, was fresh in body and spirit. He had slept
+calmly all the afternoon, having quietly thought out all his plans, left
+nothing to chance, and acted methodically and quickly, and invariably
+with perfect repose.
+
+Having fully assured himself that the cords were well fastened, the gag
+secure and Chauvelin completely helpless, he took the now inert mass up
+in his arms and carried it into the adjoining room, where Marguerite for
+twelve hours had endured a terrible martyrdom.
+
+He laid his enemy's helpless form upon the couch, and for one moment
+looked down on it with a strange feeling of pity quite unmixed with
+contempt. The light from the lamp in the further room struck vaguely
+upon the prostrate figure of Chauvelin. He seemed to have lost
+consciousness, for the eyes were closed, only the hands, which were tied
+securely to his body, had a spasmodic, nervous twitch in them.
+
+With a good-natured shrug of the shoulders the imperturbable Sir Percy
+turned to go, but just before he did so, he took a scrap of paper from
+his waistcoat pocket, and slipped it between Chauvelin's trembling
+fingers. On the paper were scribbled the four lines of verse which in
+the next four and twenty hours Robespierre himself and his colleagues
+would read.
+
+Then Blakeney finally went out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XXXV: Marguerite
+
+
+
+As he re-entered the large room, she was standing beside the table,
+with one dainty hand resting against the back of the chair, her whole
+graceful figure bent forward as if in an agony of ardent expectation.
+
+Never for an instant, in that supreme moment when his precious life was
+at stake, did she waver in courage or presence of mind. From the moment
+that he jumped up and took the candlesticks in his hands, her sixth
+sense showed her as in a flash what he meant to do and how he would wish
+her to act.
+
+When the room was plunged in darkness she stood absolutely still;
+when she heard the scuffle on the floor she never trembled, for her
+passionate heart had already told her that he never meant to deliver
+that infamous letter into his enemies' hands. Then, when there was the
+general scramble, when the soldiers rushed away, when the room became
+empty and Chauvelin alone remained, she shrank quietly into the darkest
+corner of the room, hardly breathing, only waiting.... Waiting for a
+sign from him!
+
+She could not see him, but she felt the beloved presence there,
+somewhere close to her, and she knew that he would wish her to wait....
+She watched him silently... ready to help if he called... equally ready
+to remain still and to wait.
+
+Only when the helpless body of her deadly enemy was well out of the
+way did she come from out the darkness, and now she stood with the full
+light of the lamp illumining her ruddy golden hair, the delicate blush
+on her cheek, the flame of love dancing in her glorious eyes.
+
+Thus he saw her as he re-entered the room, and for one second he paused
+at the door, for the joy of seeing her there seemed greater than he
+could bear.
+
+Forgotten was the agony of mind which he had endured, the humiliations
+and the dangers which still threatened: he only remembered that she
+loved him and that he worshipped her.
+
+The next moment she lay clasped in his arms. All was still around
+them, save for the gentle patter-patter of the rain on the trees of the
+ramparts: and from very far away the echo of laughter and music from the
+distant revellers.
+
+And then the cry of the sea-mew thrice repeated from just beneath the
+window.
+
+Blakeney and Marguerite awoke from their brief dream: once more the
+passionate lover gave place to the man of action.
+
+"'Tis Tony, an I mistake not," he said hurriedly, as with loving fingers
+still slightly trembling with suppressed passion, he readjusted the hood
+over her head.
+
+"Lord Tony?" she murmured.
+
+"Aye! with Hastings and one or two others. I told them to be ready for
+us to-night as soon as the place was quiet."
+
+"You were so sure of success then, Percy?" she asked in wonderment.
+
+"So sure," he replied simply.
+
+Then he led her to the window, and lifted her onto the sill. It was not
+high from the ground and two pairs of willing arms were there ready to
+help her down.
+
+Then he, too, followed, and quietly the little party turned to walk
+toward the gate. The ramparts themselves now looked strangely still
+and silent: the merrymakers were far away, only one or two passers-by
+hurried swiftly past here and there, carrying bundles, evidently bent on
+making use of that welcome permission to leave this dangerous soil.
+
+The little party walked on in silence, Marguerite's small hand resting
+on her husband's arm. Anon they came upon a group of soldiers who were
+standing somewhat perfunctorily and irresolutely close by the open gate
+of the Fort.
+
+"Tiens c'est l'Anglais!" said one.
+
+"Morbleu! he is on his way back to England," commented another lazily.
+
+The gates of Boulogne had been thrown open to everyone when the Angelus
+was rung and the cannon boomed. The general amnesty had been proclaimed,
+everyone had the right to come and go as they pleased, the sentinels had
+been ordered to challenge no one and to let everyone pass.
+
+No one knew that the great and glorious plans for the complete
+annihilation of the Scarlet Pimpernel and his League had come to naught,
+that Collot was taking a mighty hoax to Paris, and that the man who had
+thought out and nearly carried through the most fiendishly cruel plan
+ever conceived for the destruction of an enemy, lay helpless, bound and
+gagged, within his own stronghold.
+
+And so the little party, consisting of Sir Percy and Marguerite, Lord
+Anthony Dewhurst and my Lord Hastings, passed unchallenged through the
+gates of Boulogne.
+
+Outside the precincts of the town they met my Lord Everingham and Sir
+Philip Glynde, who had met the Abbe Foucquet outside his little church
+and escorted him safely out of the city, whilst Francois and Felicite
+with their old mother had been under the charge of other members of the
+League.
+
+"We were all in the procession, dressed up in all sorts of ragged
+finery, until the last moment," explained Lord Tony to Marguerite as the
+entire party now quickly made its way to the harbour. "We did not know
+what was going to happen.... All we knew was that we should be wanted
+about this time--the hour when the duel was to have been fought--and
+somewhere near here on the southern ramparts... and we always have
+strict orders to mix with the crowd if there happens to be one. When we
+saw Blakeney raise the candlesticks we guessed what was coming, and we
+each went to our respective posts. It was all quite simple."
+
+The young man spoke gaily and lightly, but through the easy banter of
+his tone, there pierced the enthusiasm and pride of the soldier in the
+glory and daring of his chief.
+
+Between the city walls and the harbour there was much bustle and
+agitation. The English packet-boat would lift anchor at the turn of the
+tide, and as every one was free to get aboard without leave or passport,
+there were a very large number of passengers, bound for the land of
+freedom.
+
+Two boats from the "Day-Dream" were waiting in readiness for Sir Percy
+and my lady and those whom they would bring with them.
+
+Silently the party embarked, and as the boats pushed off and the sailors
+from Sir Percy's yacht bent to their oars, the old Abbe Foucquet began
+gently droning a Pater and Ave to the accompaniment of his beads.
+
+He accepted joy, happiness and safety with the same gentle philosophy
+as he would have accepted death, but Marguerite's keen and loving ears
+caught at the end of each "Pater" a gently murmured request to le bon
+Dieu to bless and protect our English rescuer.
+
+
+
+Only once did Marguerite make allusion to that terrible time which had
+become the past.
+
+They were wandering together down the chestnut alley in the beautiful
+garden at Richmond. It was evening, and the air was heavy with the
+rich odour of wet earth, of belated roses and dying mignonette. She had
+paused in the alley, and placed a trembling hand upon his arm, whilst
+raising her eyes filled with tears of tender passion up to his face.
+
+"Percy!" she murmured, "have you forgiven me?"
+
+"What, m'dear?"
+
+"That awful evening in Boulogne... what that fiend demanded... his awful
+'either--or'... I brought it all upon you... it was all my fault."
+
+"Nay, my dear, for that 'tis I should thank you..."
+
+"Thank me?"
+
+"Aye," he said, whilst in the fast-gathering dusk she could only just
+perceive the sudden hardening of his face, the look of wild passion in
+his eyes, "but for that evening in Boulogne, but for that alternative
+which that devil placed before me, I might never have known how much you
+meant to me."
+
+Even the recollection of all the sorrow, the anxiety, the torturing
+humiliations of that night seemed completely to change him; the voice
+became trenchant, the hands were tightly clenched. But Marguerite drew
+nearer to him; her two hands were on his breast; she murmured gently:
+
+"And now?..."
+
+He folded her in his arms, with an agony of joy, and said earnestly:
+
+"Now I know."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Elusive Pimpernel, by Baroness Emmuska Orczy
+
+*** 
\ No newline at end of file