The children stepped on tiptoe and trembling, with love before and behind them, to enter the ring of glare from the lamps with reflector, lighting the palace doors at the courtyard, but they passed before the sentinel without his appearing to trouble about them.
At the Carrousel Gate, the sentinel turned his back and they could easily pass. Had he recognized the illustrious fugitives? They believed so, and sent him a thousand blessings.
On the farther side of the wicket they perceived Charny's uneasy face. He was wearing a large blue coat with cape, called a Garrick from the English actor having made it popular, and his head was covered with a tarpaulin hat.
"Thank God, you have got through," he said, "what about the King, and the Queen?"
"They follow us," said Lady Elizabeth.
"Come," said he, leading them to the hack in St. Nicaise Street.
Another was beside theirs, and its driver might be a spy; so Malden jumped into it and ordered the man to drive him to the Opera-house as if he were a servant going to join his master there.
Scarcely had he driven off before the others saw a plain sort of fellow in a gray suit, with his hat cocked over his nose and his hands in his pocket, saunter out of the same gate as had given passage to Lady Elizabeth, like a clerk who was strolling home after his work was over.
This was the King, attended by Valory.
Charny went up to meet them; for he had recognized Valory, and not the King. He was one of those who always wish to see a king kinglike. He sighed with pain, almost with shame, as he murmured:
"Come, Sire, come. Where is the Queen?" he asked of Valory.
"Coming with your brother."
"Good; take the shortest road and wait for us at St. Martin's Gate; I will go by the longer way round; we meet at the coach."
Both arrived at the rendezvous and waited half an hour for the Queen.
We shall not try to paint the fugitives' anxiety; Charny, on whom the whole responsibility fell, was like a maniac. He wanted to go back and make inquiries, but the King restrained him. The little prince wept and cried for his mother. His sister and the two ladies could not console him.
Their terror doubled when they saw Lafayette's carriage dash by, surrounded by soldiers, some bearing torches.
When at the palace gates, Viscount Charny wanted to turn to the left; the Queen, on his arm, stopped him and said that the count was waiting at the waterside gate of the Tuileries. She was so sure of what she asserted that doubt entered his mind.
"Be very careful, lady, for any error may be deadly to us," he said.
"I heard him say by the waterside," she repeated.
So he let her drag him through three courtyards, separated by thick walls and with chains at each opening, which shouldhave been guarded by sentinels. They had to scramble through the gaps and clamber over the chains. Not one of the watchers had the idea of saying anything to them. How could they believe that a buxom woman in such dress as a housemaid would wear and climbing over the chains on the arm of a strapping young chap in livery, was the Queen of the French?
On arriving at the water's edge they found it deserted.
"He must mean the other side of the river," said the crazed Queen.
Isidore wanted to return but he said as if in a vertigo:
"No, no, there it is!"
She drew him upon the Royal Bridge which they crossed to find the other shore as blank as the nigher one.
"Let us look up this street," said she.
She forced Isidore to go up the Ferry Street a little. At the end of a hundred paces she owned she was wrong, but she stopped, panting; her powers almost fled her.
"Now, take me where you will," she said.
"Courage, my lady," said Isidore.
"It is not courage I lack so much as strength. Oh, heaven, will I never get my breath again," she gasped.
Isidore paused, for he knew that the second wind she panted was necessary to her as to the hunted deer.
"Take breath, madam," he said: "we have time, for my brother would wait till daylight for your sake."
"Then you believe that he loves me?" she exclaimed rashly as quickly while pressing his arm against her breast.
"I believe that his life is yours as mine is, and that the feeling in others which is love and respect becomes adoration in him."
"Thanks," she said, "that does me good! I breathe again. On, on!"
With a feverish step, she retraced the path they had gone and they went out by the small gate of the Carrousel. The large open space was till midnight covered with stalls and prowling cabs. But it was now deserted and gloomy.
Suddenly they heard a great din of carriages and horses. They saw a light: no doubt the flambeaux accompanying the vehicles.
Isidore wanted to keep in the dark but the Queen pressed forward. He dragged her into the depths of the gateway but the torchlight flooded this cave with its beams.
In the middle of the escort of cavalry, half reclining in a carriage, in his costume of General of the National Guards, was Marquis Lafayette.
As itwhizzedby, Isidore felt an arm, strong with will if not real power, elbow him aside. It was the Queen's left arm, while with a cane in her right hand she struck the carriage wheels.
"A fig for you, Jailer!" she said. "I am out of your prison!"
"What are you doing, and what are you risking?" ejaculated the Viscount.
"I am taking my revenge," said the silly victim of spite, "and one may risk a good deal for that."
Behind the last torch-bearer she bounded along, radiant as a goddess, and gleeful as a child.
The Queen had not taken ten paces beyond the gateway before a man in a blue garrick and with his face hidden by a tarpaulin hat, caught her convulsively by the arm and dragged her to a hackney coach stationed at the St. Nicaise corner: it was Count Charny.
They expected to see the Queen come up, after this half hour of delay, dying, downcast and prostrated, but they saw her merry and gladsome; the cut of the cane which she had given a carriage-wheel and fancied was on the rider, had made her forget her fatigue, her blunder, her obstinacy, the lost time and the consequences of the delay.
Charny pointed out a saddled horse which a servant was holding at a little distance to his brother who mounted and dashed ahead to pioneer the way. He would have to get the horses ready at Bondy.
Seeing him go, the Queen uttered some words of thanks which he did not hear.
"Let us be off, madam; we have not one second to lose," said Charny, with that firmness of will mixed with respect which great men take for grand occasions.
The Queen entered the hackney-coach, where were five already, the King, Lady Elizabeth, the Princess Royal, her brother and Lady Tourzel. She had to sit at the back with her son on her lap, with the King beside her: the two ladies and the girl were on the front seat. Fortunately the hackney carriages, old family coaches, were roomy in those days.
Charny got upon the box and to avert suspicion, turned the horses round and had them driven to the gate circuitously.
Their special conveyance was waiting for them there, on the side-road leading to the ditch. This part was lonesome. The traveling carriage had the door open, and Malden and Valory were on the steps.
In an instant the six travelers were out on the road. Charny drove the hack to the ditch and upset it in it, before returning to the party.
They were inside; Malden got up behind; Valory joined Charny on the box. The four horses went off at a rattling good pace as a quarter past one sounded from the church clock.
In an hour they were at Bondy, where Isidore had better teams ready. He saw the royal coach come up.
Charny got down to get inside as had been settled; but Lady Tourzel, who was to be sent back to town alone, had not been consulted.
With all her profound devotion to the Royal Family, she was unalterable on points of courtetiquette. She stated that her duty was to look after the royal children, whom she was bound not to quit for a single instant unless by the King's express order, or the Queen's; but there being no precedent of a Queen having ordered the royal governess away from her charges, she would not go.
The Queen quivered with impatience, for she doubly wishedCharny in the vehicle, as a lover who would make it pleasanter and as a Queen, as he would guard her.
Louis did not dare pronounce on the grave question. He tried to get out of the dilemma by a side-issue. Lady Tourzel stood ready to yield to the King's command but he dared not command her, so strong are the minutest regulations in the courtly-bred.
"Arrange anyway you like, count," said the fretful Queen, "only you must be with us."
"I will follow close to the carriage, like a simple servant," he replied: "I will return to town to get a horse by the one my brother came therefrom, and changing my dress I will join you at full speed."
"Is there no other means?" said Marie Antoinette in despair.
"I see none," remarked the King.
Lady Tourzel took her seat triumphantly and the stage-coach started off.
The importance of this discussion had made them forget to serve out the firearms which went back to Paris in the hack.
By daybreak, which was three o'clock, they changed horses at Meaux where the King was hungry. They brought their own provisions in the boot of the coach, cold veal and bread and wine, which Charny had seen to. But there were no knives and forks and the King had to carve with "Jean," that is, Malden's hunting-knife.
During this, the Queen leaned out to see if Charny were returning.
"What are you thinking of, madam?" inquired the King, who had found the two guards would not take refreshment.
"That Lafayette is in a way at this hour," replied the lady.
But nothing showed that their departure had been seen.
Valory said that all would go well.
"Cheer up!" he said, as he got upon the box with Malden and off they rolled again.
At eight o'clock they reached the foot of a long slope where the King had all get out to walk up. Scattered over the road, the pretty children romping and playing, the sister resting on her brother's arm and smiling: the pensive women lookingbackward, and all lit up by the June sun while the forest flung a transparent shade upon the highway—they seemed a family going home to an old manor to resume a regular and peaceful life and not a King and Queen of France fleeing from the throne which would be converted into their scaffold.
An accident was soon to stir up the dormant passions in the bosoms of the party.
The Queen suddenly stopped as though her feet had struck root.
A horseman appeared a quarter-league away, wrapped in the cloud of dust which his horse's hoofs threw up.
Marie Antoinette dared not say: "It is Count Charny!" but she did exclaim, "News from Paris!"
Everybody turned round except the Dauphin who was chasing a butterfly—compared with its capture the news from the capital little mattered.
Being shortsighted, the King drew a small spy-glass from his pocket.
"I believe it is only Lord Charny," he said.
"Yes, it is he," said the Queen.
"Go on," said the other: "he will catch up to us and we have no time to lose."
The Queen dared not suggest that the news might be of value.
It was only a few seconds at stake anyhow, for the rider galloped up as fast as his horse could go.
He stared as he came up for he could not understand why the party should be scattered all over the road.
He arrived as the huge vehicle stopped at the top of the ridge to take up the passengers.
It was indeed Charny as the Queen's heart and the King's eyes had told them. He was now wearing a greenriding coatwith flap collar, abroad brimmedhat with steel buckle, white waistcoat, tight buckskin breeches, and high boots reaching above the knee. His usually dead white complexion was animated by the ride and sparks of the same flame which reddened his cheeks shot from his eyes.
He looked like a conqueror as he rushed along; the Queen thought she had never seen him look handsomer. She heaveda deep sigh as the horseman leaped off his horse and saluted the King.
Turning, he bowed to the Queen. All grouped themselves round him, except two guardsmen who stood aloof in respect.
"Come near, gentlemen," said the King: "what news Count Charny brings concerns us all."
"To begin with, all goes well," said Charny: "At two in the morning none suspected our flight."
They breathed easier: the questions were multiplied. He related that he had entered the town and been stopped by a patrol of volunteers who however became convinced that the King was still in the palace. He entered his own room and changed his dress: the aid of Lafayette who first had a doubt, had become calm and dismissed extra guards.
He had returned on the same horse from the difficulty of getting a fresh one so early. It almost foundered, poor beast, but he reached Bondy upon it. There he took a fresh one and continued his ride with nothing alarming along the road.
The Queen found that such good news deserved the favor of her extending her hand to the bearer; he kissed it respectfully, and she turned pale. Was it from joy that he had returned, or with sorrow that he did not press it?
When the vehicle started off, Charny rode by the side.
At the next relay house all was ready except asaddle horsefor the count which Isidore had not foreseen the want of. There would be delay for one to be found. The vehicle went off without him, but he overtook it in five minutes. It was settled that he should follow and not escort it. Still he kept close enough for the Queen to see him if she put her head out of the window and thus he exchanged a few words with the illustrious couple when the pace allowed it.
Charny changed horses at Montmirail and was dashing on thinking it had a good start of him when he almost ran into it. It had been pulled up from a trace breaking. He dismounted and found a new leather in the boot, filled with repairing stuff. The two guardsmen profited by the halt to ask for their weapons, but the King opposed their having them. On the objection that the vehicle might be stoppedhe replied that he would not have blood spilt on his account.
They lost half an hour by this mishap, when seconds were priceless.
They arrived at Chalons by two o'clock.
"All will go well if we reach Chalons without being stopped," the King had said.
Here the King showed himself for a moment. In the crowd around the huge conveyance two men watched him with sustained attention. One of them suddenly went away while the other came up.
"Sire, you will wreck all if you show yourself thus," he said. "Make haste, you lazybones," he cried to the postboys: "this is a pretty way to serve those who pay you handsomely."
He set to work, aiding the hostlers.
It was the postmaster.
At last the horses were hooked on and the postboys in their saddles and boots. The first tried to start his pair when they went clean off their feet. They got them up and all clear again, when the second span went off their feet! This time the postboy was caught under them.
Charny, who was looking on in silence, seized hold of the man and dragged him out of his heavy boots, remaining under the horse.
"What kind of horses have you given us?" demanded he of the postinghouse master.
"The best I had in," replied the man.
The horses were so entangled with the traces that the more they pulled at them the worse the snarl became.
Charny flew down to the spot.
"Unbuckle and take off everything," he said, "and harness up afresh. We shall get on quicker so."
The postmaster lent a hand in the work, cursing with desperation.
Meanwhile the other man, who had been looking on had run to the mayor, whom he told that the Royal Family were in a coach passing through the town. Luckily the official was far from being a republican and did not care to take any responsibility on himself. Instead of making the assertionsure, he shilly-shallied so that time was lost and finally arrived as the coach disappeared round the corner.
But more than twenty minutes had been frittered away.
Alarm was in the royal party; the Queen thought that the downfall of the two pair of horses were akin to the four candles going out one after another which she had taken to portend the death of herself, her husband and their two children.
Still, on getting out of the town, she and the King and his sister had all exclaimed:
"We are saved!"
But, a hundred paces beyond, a man shouted in at the window:
"Yourmeasuresare badly taken—you will be arrested!"
The Queen screamed but the man jumped into the hedge and was lost to sight.
Happily they were but four leagues from Sommevelle Bridge, where Choiseul and forty hussars were to be posted. But it was three in the afternoon and they were nearly four hours late.
On the morning of the twenty-first of June, the Count of Choiseul, who had notified the King that he could wait no longer but must pick up his detachments along the road and fall back towards Bouille, who was also at the end of his patience, was told that a messenger from the Queen was at last at his house in Paris.
It was Leonard the Queen's hairdresser. He was a favorite who enjoyed immense credit at the court, but the duke could wish for a more weighty confidant. But how could the Queen go into exile without the artist who alone could build up her hair into one of those towers which caused her to be the envy of her sex and the stupefaction of the sterner one?
He was wearing a round hat pulled down to his eyes and an enormous "wraprascal," which he explained were property of his brother. The Queen, in confiding to him her jewels, had ordered him to disguise himself, and placed himself under the command of Choiseul. Not only verbal was this direction but in a note which the duke read and burned.
He ordered a cab to be made ready. When the servant reported it at the door, he said to the hairdresser:
"Come, my dear Leonard."
"But where?"
"A little way out of town where your art is required."
"But the diamonds?"
"Bring them along."
"But my brother will come home and see I have taken his best hat and overcoat—he will wonder what has become of me."
"Let him wonder! Did not the Queen bid you obey me as herself?"
"True, but Lady Ange will be expecting me to do up her hair. Nobody can make anything of her scanty wisp but me, and——"
"Lady Ange must wait till her hair grows again."
Without paying farther heed to his lamentations, the lord forced him into his cab and the horse started off at a fast gait. When they stopped to renew the horse, he believed they were going to the world's end, though the duke confessed that their destination was the frontier.
At Montmirail they were to pass the balance of the night, and indeed at the inn beds were ready. Leonard began to feel better, in pride at having been chosen for such an important errand.
At eleven they reached Sommevelle Bridge, where Choiseul got out to put on his uniform. His hussars had not yet arrived.
Leonard watched his preparations, particularly his freshening the pistol primings, with sharp disquiet and heaved sighs which touched the hearer.
"It is time to let you into the truth, Leonard; you are true to your masters so you may as well know that they will behere in a couple of hours. The King, the Queen, Lady Elizabeth, and the royal children. You know what dangers they were running, and dangers they are running still, but in two hours they will be saved. I am awaiting a hussar detachment to be brought by Lieut. Goguelat. We will have dinner and take our time over it."
But they heard the bugle and the hussars arrived. Goguelat brought six blank royal warrants and the order from Bouille for Choiseul to be obeyed like himself by all military officers, whatever their ranking seniority.
The horses were hobbled, wine and eatables served out to the troopers and Choiseuil sat at table.
Not that the lieutenant's news was good. He had found ferment everywhere along the road. For more than a year rumors of the King's flight had circulated as well in the country as in town, and the stationing of the soldiers had aroused talk. In one township the village church bells had sounded the alarm.
This was calculated to dull even a Choiseuil's appetite. So he got up from the board in an hour, as the clock struck half after twelve, and leaving Lieut. Boudet to rule the troop of horse, he went out on a hill by the town entrance which commanded a good view. Every five minutes he pulled out his watch, and, each time, Leonard groaned: "Oh, my poor masters, they will not come. Something bad has happened them."
His despair added to the duke's disquiet.
Three o'clock came without any tidings. It will be remembered that this was the hour when the King left Chalons.
While Choiseul was fretting, Fatality, unless Cagliostro had a hand in it, was preparing an event which had much to do with influencing the drama in course of performance.
A few days before, some peasants on the Duchess of Elbœuf's estate, near Sommevelle Bridge, had refused payment of some unredeemable taxes. They were threatened with the sheriff calling in the military; but the Federation business had done its work and the inhabitants of the neighborhood vowed to make common cause with their brothers of the plow and came armed to resist the process-servers.
On seeing the hussars ride in, the clowns thought that they were here for this purpose. So they sent runners to the surrounding villages and at three o'clock the alarm-bells were booming all over the country.
Choiseul went back on hearing this and found Lieut. Boudet uneasy.
Threats were heard against the hussars who were the best hated corps in the army. The crowdbanteredthem and sang a song at them which was made for the occasion:
"Than the hussars there is no worse,But we don't care for them a curse!"
"Than the hussars there is no worse,But we don't care for them a curse!"
Other persons, better informed or keener, began to whisper that the cavalry were here not to execute a writ on the Elbœuf tillers but to wait for the King and Queen coming through.
Meanwhile four o'clock struck without any courier with intelligence.
The count put Leonard in his cab with the diamonds, and sent him on to Varennes, with order to say all he could to the commanders of each military troop on the road.
To calm the agitation he informed the mob that he and his company were there not to assist the sheriff, but to guard a treasure which the War Minister was sending along. This word "treasure," with its double meaning, confirmed suspicions on one side while allaying irritability on the other. In a short time he saw that his men were so outnumbered and as hedged in that they could do nothing in such a mass, and would have been powerless to protect the Royal Family if they came then.
His orders were to "act so that the King's carriage should pass without hindrance," while his presence was becoming an obstacle instead of protection.
Even had the King came up he had better be out of the way. Indeed his departure would remove the block from the highway. But he needed an excuse for the going.
The postmaster was there among half-a-dozen leading citizens whom a word would turn into active foes. He was close to Choiseul who inquired:
"My friend, did you hear anything about this military money-chest coming through?"
"This very morning," replied the man, "the stage-coach came along for Metz with a hundred thousand crowns; two gendarmes rode with it."
"You don't say so?" cried the nobleman, amazed at luck so befriending him.
"It is so true that I was one of the escort," struck in a gendarme.
"Then the Minister preferred that way of transmitting the cash," said Choiseul, turning to his lieutenant, quietly, "and we were sent only as a blind to highwaymen. As we are no longer needed, I think we can be off. Boot and saddle, my men!"
The troop marched out with trumpets sounding and the count at the head as the clock struck half-past five.
He branched off the road to avoid St. Menehould, where great hubbub was reported to prevail.
At this very instant, Isidore Charny, spurring and whipping a horse which had taken two hours to cover four leagues, dashed up to the posthouse to get another; asking about a squad of hussars he was told that it had marched slowly out of the place a quarter of an hour before; leaving orders about the horses for the carriage, he rode off at full speed of the fresh steed, hoping to overtake the count.
Choiseul had taken the side road precisely as Isidore arrived at the post, so that the viscount never met him.
Ten minutes after young Charny rode out, the King's coach rumbled in.
As the duke had foreseen, the crowd had dissolved almost completely.
Knowing that a detachment of soldiery was to be at Sommevelle,Charny had thought he need not linger and had galloped beside the door, urging on thepostillionsand keeping them up to the hand-gallop.
On arriving and seeing neither Choiseul nor the escort, the King stuck his head out of the window.
"For mercy's sake, do not show yourself," said Charny; "let me inquire."
In five minutes he returned from the postinghouse where he had learnt all, and he repeated it to the monarch. They understood that the count had withdrawn to leave the road open. No doubt he had fallen back on St. Menehould where they ought to hasten to find him with the hussars and dragoons.
"What am I to do?" asked Charny as they were about to proceed again; "does the Queen order me to go ahead or ride in the rear?"
"Do not leave me," said the Queen.
He bowed, and rode by the carriage side.
During this time Isidore rode on, gaining on the vehicle, and fearing that the people of St. Menehould would also take umbrage at having the soldiers in their town. He was not wrong.
The first thing he perceived there was a goodly number of National Guards scattered about the streets; they were the first seen since he left the capital.
The whole town seemed in a stir and on the opposite side, drums were beating.
He dashed through the streets without appearing to notice the tumult: crossing the square he stopped at the postinghouse.
On a bench in the square he noticed a dozen dragoons not in their helmets but fatigue caps, sitting at ease. Up at a ground floor window lounged Marquis Dandoins in undress, also, with a riding whip in his hand.
Isidore passed without seeming to look, presuming that the captain would recognize the royal courier by his uniform and not need any other hint.
At the posthouse was a young man whose hair was cut short in the Emperor Titus fashion which the Patriotsadopted in the period: he wore his beard all round the lower face from ear to ear. He was in a dressing gown.
"What do you want?" challenged the black-whiskered man, seeing that the new-comer was looking round.
"To speak to the postmaster."
"He is out just now, but I am his son, Jean Baptiste Drouet. If I can replace him, speak."
He had emphasized his name as though hefore-feltthat it would take a place on the historic page.
"I want six horses for two carriages coming after me."
Drouet nodded to show that he would fulfill the order and walked into the stable yard, calling out:
"Turn out there! six horses for carriages and a nag for the courier."
At this nick Marquis Dandoins hurriedly came up to Isidore.
"You are preceding the King's coach, I suppose?" he questioned.
"Yes, my lord, and I am surprised to see that you and your men are not in the battle array."
"We have not been notified; besides, very ugly manifestations have been made around us; attempts to make my men mutiny. What am I to do?"
"Why, as the King passes, guard the vehicle, act as circumstances dictate, and start off half an hour after the Royal Family to guard the rear." But he interrupted himself saying: "Hush, we are spied. Perhaps we have been overheard. Get away to your squadron and do all you can to keep your men steadfast."
Indeed, Drouet was at the kitchen door where this dialogue was held. Dandoins walked away.
At this period, cracking of whips was heard: the royal coach rolled up across the square and stopped at the posthouse.
At the noise it made, the population mustered around the spot with curiosity.
Captain Dandoins, whose heart was sore about the oversight, and wanting to explain why his men were standing at ease instead of being ready for action, darted up to the carriagewindow, taking off his cap and bowing, with all kind of respect to excuse himself to the sovereign and the Royal Family. To answer him the King put his head out of the window several times.
Isidore, with his foot in the stirrup, was near Drouet who watched the conveyance with profound attention: he had been up to town to the Federation Festival and he had seen the King whom he believed he recognized. That morning he had received a number of the new issue ofassignatsthe paper money of the State which bore the monarch's head: he pulled one out and compared it with the original. This seemed to cry out to him: "You have the man before you."
Isidore went round the carriage to the other side where his brother was masking the Queen by leaning his elbow on the window.
"The King is recognized," he said; "hurry off the carriage and take a good look at that tall dark fellow—the postmaster's son, who has recognized the King. His name is Jean Baptiste Drouet."
"Right," responded George, "I will look to him. You, be off!"
Isidore galloped on to Clermont to have the fresh horses ready there.
Scarcely was he through the town before the vehicle started off, by Malden and Valory pressing and the promise of extra money.
Charny had lost sight of Drouet who did not budge, but was talking with the groom. The count went up to him.
"Was there no horse ordered for me, sir?" he demanded.
"One was ordered, but we are out of them."
"What do you mean—when here is a saddled horse in the yard."
"That is mine."
"But you can let me have it. I do not mind what I pay."
"Impossible. I have a journey to make, and it cannot be postponed."
To insist was to cause suspicions; to take by force was to ruin all. He thought of a means to smoothe over the difficulty. He went over to Captain Dandoins who was watching theroyal carriage going round the corner. He turned on a hand being laid on his shoulder.
"Hush, I am Count Charny," said the Lifeguard. "I cannot get a horse here. Let me have one of your dragoons' as I must follow the King and the Queen. I alone know where the relays set by the Count of Choiseul are, and if I am not at hand the King will be brought to a standstill at Varennes."
"Count, you must take my charger, not one of my men's."
"I accept. The welfare of the Royal Family depends on the least accident. The better the steed the better the chances."
The two went through the town to the marquis' lodgings. Before departing Charny charged a quarter-master to watch young Drouet.
Unfortunately the nobleman's rooms were five hundred paces away. When the horses were saddled a quarter of an hour had gone by; for the marquis had another got ready as he was to take up the rear guard duty over the King.
Suddenly it seemed to Charny that he heard great clamor and could distinguish shouts of "The Queen, the Queen!"
He sprang from the house, begging Dandoins to have the horse brought to the square.
The town was in an uproar. Scarcely had Charny and his brother noble gone, as if Drouet had waited for it, he shouted out:
"That carriage which went by is the King's! in it are the King, the Queen, and the Royals!"
He jumped on his horse; some friends sought to detain him.
"Where are you off to? what do you intend? what is your project?"
"The colonel and the troop are here. We could not stop the King without a riot which might turn out ill for us. What cannot be done here can be done at Clermont. Keep back the dragoons, that is all I ask."
And away galloped he on the track of the King.
Hence the shouting that the King and the Queen had gone through, as Charny heard. Those shouts set the mayor and councilmen afoot; the mayor ordered the soldiers into thebarracks as eight o'clock was striking and it was the hour when soldiers had no business to be about in arms.
"Horses!" cried Charny as Dandoins joined him.
"They are coming."
"Have you pistols in the holsters?"
"I loaded them myself."
"Good! Now, all hangs on the goodness of your horse. I must catch up with a man who has a quarter-hour's start, and kill him."
"You must kill him——"
"Or, all is lost!"
"Do not wait for the horses, then."
"Never mind me; you, get your men out before they are coaxed over; look at the mayor speechifying to them! you have no time to lose either; make haste!"
At this instant up came the orderly with the two chargers. Charny took the nearest at hazard, snatched the reins from the man's hands, leaped astride, drove in both spurs and burst away on the track of Drouet, without clearly comprehending what the marquis yelled after him. Yet these words were important.
"You have taken my horse and not yours, and the pistols are not loaded!"
With Isidore riding before it, the royal conveyance flew over the road between St. Menehould and Clermont.
Night was falling; the coach entered Argonne Forest crossing the highway.
The Queen had noticed the absence of Charny, but she could not slacken the pace or question the postboys. She did lean out a dozen times but she discovered nothing.
At half-past nine they reached Clermont, four leagues covered. Count Damas was waiting outside the place as he had been warned by Leonard and he stopped Isidore on recognizing his livery.
"You are Charles de Damas? well; I am preceding the King. Get your dragoons in hand and escort the carriage."
"My lord," replied the count, "such a breath of discontent is blowing that I am alarmed, and must confess that my men cannot be answered for, if they recognize the King. All I can promise is that I will fall in behind when he gets by, and bar the road."
"Do your best—here they come!"
He pointed to the carriage rushing through the darkness and visible by the sparks from the horses' shoes.
Isidore's duty was to ride ahead and get the relays ready. In five minutes, he stopped at the posthouse door.
Almost at the same time, Damas rode up with half-a-dozen dragoons, and the King's coach came next. It had followed Isidore so closely that he had not had time to remount. Without being showy it was so large and well built that a great crowd gathered to see it.
Damas stood by the door to prevent the passengers being studied. But neither the King nor the Queen could master their desire to learn what was going on.
"Is that you, Count Damas?" asked the King. "Why are not your dragoons under arms?"
"Sire, your Majesty is five hours behind time. My troop has been in the saddle since four P. M. I have kept as quiet as possible but the town is getting fretful; and my men want to know what is the matter. If the excitement comes to a head before your Majesty is off again, the alarm bell will be rung and the road will be blocked. So I have kept only a dozen men ready and sent the others into quarters; but I have the trumpeters in my rooms so as to sound the Boot-and-Saddle at the first call. Your Majesty sees that all was for the best for the road is free."
"Very well; you have acted like a prudent man, my lord," said the King; "when I am gone, get your men together and follow me closely."
"Sire, will you kindly hear what Viscount Charny has to say?" asked the Queen.
"What has he to say?" said the King, fretfully.
"That you were recognised by the St. Menehould postmaster'sson, who compared your face with the likeness on the new paper money; his brother the count stayed behind to watch this fellow, and no doubt something serious is happening as he has not rejoined us."
"If we were recognized, the more reason to hurry. Viscount, urge on the postboys and ride on before."
Isidore's horse was ready. He dashed on, shouting to the postillions: "The Varennes Road!" and led the vehicle, which rattled off with lightning speed.
Damas thought of following with his handful but he had positive orders and as the town was in commotion—lights appearing at windows and persons running from door to door—he thought only of one thing: to stop the alarm bell. He ran to thechurch towerand set a guard on the door.
But all seemed to calm down. A messenger arrived from Dandoins, to say that he and his dragoons were detained at St. Menehould by the people; besides—as Damas already knew—Drouet had ridden off to pursue the carriage which he had probably failed to catch up with, as they had not seen him at Clermont.
Then came a hussar orderly, from Commandant Rohrig, at Varennes with Count Bouille and another. He was a young officer of twenty who was not in the knowledge of the plot but was told a treasure was in question. Uneasy at time going by they wanted to know what news Damas could give.
All was quiet with them and on the road the hussar had passed the royal carriage.
"All's well," thought Count Damas, going home to bid his bugler sound "Boot and Saddle!"
All was therefore going for the best, except for the St. Menehould incident, by which Dandoins' thirty dragoons were locked up.
But Damas could dispense with them from having a hundred and forty.
Returning to the King's carriage, it was on the road to Varennes.
This place is composed of an upper and a lower town; the relay of horses was to be ready beyond the town, on thefarther side of the bridge and a vaulted passage, where a stoppage would be bad.
Count Jules Bouille and Raigecourt were to guard these horses and Charny was to guide the party through the daedalus of streets. He had spent a fortnight in Varennes and had studied and jotted down every point; not a lane but was familiar, not a boundary post but he knew it.
Unfortunately Charny was not to the fore.
Hence the Queen's anxiety doubled. Something grave must have befallen him to keep him remote when he knew how much he was wanted.
The King grew more distressed, too, as he had so reckoned on Charny that he had not brought away the plan of the town.
Besides the night was densely dark—not a star scintillated.
It was easy to go wrong in a known place, still more a strange one.
Isidore's orders from his brother was to stop before the town.
Here his brother was to change horses and take the lead.
He was as troubled as the Queen herself at this absence. His hope was that Bouille and Raigecourt in their eagerness would come out to meet the Royal party: they must have learnt the site during three days and would do as guides.
Consequently on reaching the base of the hill, seeing a few lights sparkling over the town, Isidore pulled up irresolutely, and cast a glance around to try and pierce the murkiness. He saw nothing.
He ventured to call in a low voice, but louder and louder, for the officers; but no reply came.
He heard the rumbling of the stage coming along at a quarter of a league off, like athunder peal.
Perhaps the officers were hiding in the woods which he explored along the skirts without meeting a soul.
He had no alternative but to wait.
In five minutes the carriage came up, and the heads of the royal couple were thrust out of the windows.
"Have you seen Count Charny?" both asked simultaneously.
"I have not, Sire," was the response: "and I judge that some hurt has met him in the chase of that confounded Drouet."
The Queen groaned.
"What can be done?" inquired the King who found that nobody knew the place.
"Sire," said the viscount, "all is silent and appears quiet. Please your Majesty, wait ten minutes. I will go into the town, and try to get news of Count Bouille or at least of the Choiseul horses."
He darted towards the houses.
The nearest had opened at the approach of the vehicles, and light was perceptible through the chink of the door.
The Queen got out, leant on Malden's arm and walked up to this dwelling: but the door closed at their drawing near. Malden had time to dash up and give it a shove which overpowered the resistance. The man who had attempted to shut it was in his fiftieth year; he wore a night gown and slippers.
It was not without astonishment that he was pushed into his own house by a gentleman who had a lady on his arm. He started when he cast a rapid glance at the latter.
"What do you want?" he challenged Malden.
"We are strangers to Varennes, and we beg you to point out the Stenay road."
"But if I give you the information, and it is known, I will be a ruined man."
"Whatever the risk, sir," said the Lifeguardsman, "it will be kindness to a lady who is in a dangerous position——"
"Yes, but this is a great lady—it is the Queen," he whispered to the sham courier.
The Queen pulled Malden back.
"Before going farther, let the King know that I am recognized," she said.
Malden took but a second to run this errand and he brought word that the King wanted to see this careful man.
He kicked off his slippers with a sigh, and went on tiptoe out to the vehicle.
"Your name, sir?" demanded the King.
"I am Major Prefontaine of the cavalry, and Knight of the St. Louis Order."
"In both capacities you have sworn fealty to me: it is doubly your duty therefore to help me in this quandary."
"Certainly: but will your Majesty please be quick about it lest I am seen," faltered the major.
"All the better if you are seen," interposed Malden; "you will never have a finer chance to do your duty."
Not appearing to be of this opinion, the major gave a groan. The Queen shook her shoulders with scorn and stamped with impatience.
The King waved his hand to appease her and said to the lukewarm royalist:
"Sir, did you hear by chance of soldiers waiting for a carriage to come through, and have you seen any hussars lately about?"
"They are on the other side of the town, Sire; the horses are at the Great Monarch inn and the soldiers probably in the barracks."
"I thank you, sir; nobody has seen you and you will probably have nothing happen you."
He gave his hand to the Queen to help her into the vehicle, and issued orders for the start to be made again.
But as the couriers shouted "To the Monarch Inn!" a shadowy horseman loomed up in the woods and darted crosswise on the road, shouting:
"Postboys, not a step farther! You are driving the fleeing King. In the name of the Nation, I bid ye stand!"
"The King," muttered the postillions, who had gathered up the reins.
Louis XVI. saw that it was a vital instant.
"Who are you, sir, to give orders here?" he demanded.
"A plain citizen, but I represent the law and I speak in the name of the Nation. Postillions, I order you a second time not to stir. You know me well: I am Jean Baptiste Drouet, son of the postmaster at St. Menehould."
"The scoundrel, it is he," shouted the two Lifeguardsmen, drawing their hunting-swords.
But before they could alight, the other had dashed away into the Lower Town streets.
"Oh, what has become of Charny?" murmured the Queen.
Fatality had ridden at the count's knee.
Dandoins' horse was a good racer but Drouet had twenty minute's start. Charny dug in the spurs, and the bounding horse blew steam from his nostrils as it darted off. Without knowing that he was pursued, Drouet tore along, but herodean ordinary nag while the other was a thoroughbred.
The result was that at a league's end the pursuer gained a third. Thereupon the postmaster's son saw that he was chased and redoubled his efforts to keep beyond the hunter. At the end of the second league Charny saw that he had gained in the same proportion, while the other turned to watch him with more and more uneasiness.
Drouet had gone off in such haste that he had forgotten to arm himself. The young patriot did not dread death, but he feared being stopped in his mission of arresting the King, whereupon he would lose the opportunity of making his name famous.
He had stilltwoleagues to go before reaching Clermont, but it was evident that he would be overtaken at the end of the first league, that is, the third, from his leaving St. Menehould.
As if to stimulate his ardor, he was sure that the royal carriage was in front of him.
He laid on the lash and drove in the spurs more cruelly.
It was half after nine and night fell.
He was but three quarters of a league from Clermont but Charny was only two hundred paces away.
Drouet knew Varennes was not a posting station and he surmised that the King would have to go through Verdun. He began to despair; before he caught up with the King he would be seized. He would have to give up the pursuit or turn to fight his pursuer and he was unarmed.
Suddenly, when Charny was not fifty paces from him, he met postillions returning with the unharnessed horses. Drouet recognized them as those who had ridden the royal horses.
"They took the Verdun Road, eh?" he called out as he forged past them.
"No, the Varennes Road," they shouted.
He roared with delight. He was saved and the King lost!
Instead of the long way he had a short cut to make. Heknew all about Argonne Woods into which he flung himself: by cutting through, he would gain a quarter of an hour over the King, besides being shielded by the darkness under the trees.
Charny, who knew the ground almost as well as the young man, understood that he would escape him and he howled with rage.
"Stop, stop!" he shouted out to Drouet, as he at the same time urged his horse also on the short level separating the road from the woods.
But Drouet took good care not to reply: he bent down on his horse's neck, inciting him with whip and spur and voice. All he wanted was to reach the thicket—he would be safe there.
He could do it, but he had to run the gauntlet of Charny at ten paces. He seized one of the horse-pistols and levelled it.
"Stop!" he called out again, "or you are a dead man."
Drouet only leaned over the more and pressed on. The royalist pulled the trigger but the flint on the hammer only shot sparks from the pan: he furiously flung the weapon at the flyer, took out the other of the pair and plunging into the woods after him, shot again at the dark-form—but once more the hammer fell uselessly; neither pistol was loaded.
It was then he remembered that Dandoins had called out something to him which he had heard imperfectly.
"I made a mistake in the horse," he said, "and no doubt what he shouted was that the pistols were not charged. Never mind, I will catch this villain, and strangle him with my own hands if needs must."
He took up the pursuit of the shadow which he just descried in the obscurity. But he had hardly gone a hundred paces in the forest before his horse broke down in the ditch: he was thrown over its head; rising he pulled it up and got into the seat again but Drouet was out of sight.
Thus it was that he escaped Charny, and swept like a phantom over the road to bid the King's conductors to make not another step.
They obeyed, for he had conjured them in the name of theNation, beginning to be more mighty than the King's.
Scarcely had he dived into the Lower Town and the sound of his horse lessened before they heard that of another coming nearer.
Isidore appeared by the same street as Drouet had taken.
His information agreed with that furnished by Major Prefontaine. The horses were beyond the town at the Monarch Hotel.
Lieutenant Rohrig had the hussars at the barracks.
But instead of filling them with joy by his news he found the party plunged into the deepest stupor. Prefontaine was wailing and the two Lifeguardsmen threatening someone unseen.
"Did not a rider go by you at a gallop?"
"Yes, Sire."
"The man was Drouet," said the King.
"Then my brother is dead," ejaculated Isidore with a deep pang at the heart.
The Queen uttered a shriek and buried her face in her hands.
Inexpressible prostration overpowered the fugitives, checked on the highway by a danger they could not measure.
"Sire," said Isidore, the first to shake it off; "dead or living, let us not think of our brother, but of your Majesty. There is not an instant to lose. These fellows must know the Monarch Hotel; so, gallop to the Grand Monarch!"
But the postillions did not stir.
"Did you not hear?" queried the young noble.
"Yes, sir, we heard——"
"Well, why do we not start?"
"Because Master Drouet forbade us."
"What? Drouet forbade you? when the King commands and Drouet forbids, do you obey a Drouet?"
"We obey the Nation."
"Then, gentlemen," went on Isidore, "there are moments when a human life is of no account. Pick out your man; I will settle this one. We will drive ourselves."
He grasped the nearest postillion by the collar and set the point of his short sword to his breast.
On seeing the three knives flash, the Queen screamed and cried:
"Mercy, gentlemen!"
She turned to the postboys:
"Friends, fifty gold pieces to share among you, and a pension of five hundred a-year if you save the King!"
Whether they were frightened by the young nobles' demonstration or snapped at the offer, the three shook up their horses and resumed the road.
Prefontaine sneaked into his house all of a tremble and barred himself in.
Isidore rode on in front to clear the way through the town and over the bridge to the Monarch House.
The vehicle rolled at full speed down the slope.
On arriving at a vaulted way leading to the bridge and passing under the Revenue Tower, one of the doors was seen closed. They got it open but two or three wagons were in the way.
"Lend me a hand, gentlemen," cried Isidore, dismounting.
Just then they heard the bells boom and a drum beat. Drouet was hard at work!
"The scamp! if ever I lay hold of him—" growled Isidore, grinding his teeth. By an incredible effort he dragged one of the carts aside while Malden and Valory drew off the other. They tugged at the last as the coach thundered under the vault.
Suddenly through the uprights of the tilt, they saw severalmusket barrelsthrust upon the cart.
"Not a step or you are dead men!" shouted a voice.
"Gentlemen," interposed the King, looking out of the window, "do not try to force your way through—I order you."
The two officers and Isidore fell back a step.
"What do they mean to do?" asked the King.
At the same time a shriek of fright sounded from within thecoach. Besides the men who barred the way, two or three had slipped up to the conveyance and shoved theirgun barrelsunder the windows. One was pointed at the Queen's breast: Isidore saw this; he darted up, and pushed the gun aside by grasping the barrel.
"Fire, fire," roared several voices.
One of the men obeyed but luckily his gun missed fire.
Isidore raised his arm to stab him but the Queen stopped his hand.
"Oh, in heaven's name, let me charge this rabble," said Isidore, enraged.
"No, sheathe your sword, do you hear me?"
He did not obey her by half; instead of sheathing his sword he let it fall on the ground.
"If I only get hold of Drouet," he snarled.
"I leave you him to wreck your vengeance on," said the Queen, in an undertone and squeezing his arm with strange force.
"In short, gentlemen," said the King, "what do you want?"
"We want to see your passports," returned several voices.
"So you may," he replied. "Get the town authorities and we will show them."
"You are making too much fuss over it," said the fellow who had missed fire with his gun and now levelled it at the King.
But the two Guardsmen leaped upon him, and dragged him down; in the scuffle the gun went off and the bullet did no harm in the crowd.
"Who fired?" demanded a voice.
"Help," called out the one whom the officers were beating.
Five or six armed men rushed to his rescue. The two Lifeguardsmen whipped out their short swords and prepared to use them. The King and the Queen made useless efforts to stop both parties: the contest was beginning fierce, terrible and deadly.
But two men plunged into the struggle, distinguishable bya tricolored scarf and military uniform; one was Sausse the County Attorney and the other National Guard Commandant Hannonet.
They brought twenty muskets, which gleamed in the torchlight.
The King comprehended that these officials were a guarantee if not assistance.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I am ready to entrust myself and party to you, but put a stop to these rough fellow's brutality."
"Ground your arms," cried Hannonet.
The men obeyed but growlingly.
"Excuse me, sir," said the attorney, "but the story is about that the King is in flight and it is our duty to make sure if it is a fact."
"Make sure?" retorted Isidore. "If this carriage really conveyed his Majesty you ought to be at his feet: if it is but a private individual by what right do you stay him?"
"Sir, I am addressing you," went on Sausse, to the King. "Will you be good enough to answer me?"
"Sire, gain time," whispered Isidore: "Damas and his dragoons are somewhere near and will doubtless ride up in a trice."
The King thought this right and replied to Sausse:
"I suppose you will let us go on if our passes are correct?"
"Of course," was the reply.
"Then, Baroness," said the Monarch to Lady Tourzel, "be good enough to find the passports and give them to the gentleman."
The old lady understood what the speaker meant by saying "find!" so she went to seeking in the pockets where it was not likely to be.
"Nonsense," said one of the crowd, "don't you see that they have not got any passport."
The voice was fretful and full of menace too.
"Excuse me, sir," said the Queen, "my lady the baroness has the paper but not knowing that it would be called for, she does not know where she put it."
The bystanders began to hoot, showing that they were not dupes of the trick.
"There is a plainer way," said Sausse: "postillions, drive on to my store, where the ladies and gentlemen can go in while the matter is cleared up. Go ahead, boys! Soldiers of the National Guard, escort the carriage."
This invitation was too much like an order to be dallied with.
Besides resistance would probably not have succeeded for the bells continued to ring and the drum to beat so that the crowd was considerably augmented, as the carriage moved on.
"Oh, Colonel Damas," muttered the King, "if you will only strike in before we are put within this accursed house!"
The Queen said nothing for she had to stifle her sobs as she thought of Charny, and restrained her tears.
Damas? he had managed to break out of Clermont with three officers and twice as many troopers but the rest had fraternized with the people.
Sausse was a grocer as well as attorney, and his grocery had a parlor behind the store where he meant to lodge the visitors.
His wife, half-dressed, came from upstairs as the Queen crossed the sill, with the King next, Lady Elizabeth and Lady Tourzel following.
More than a hundred persons guarded the coach, and stopped before the store which was in a little square.
"If the lady has found the pass yet," observed Sausse, who had shown the way in, "I will take it to the Town Council and see if it is correct."
As the passport which Charny had got from Baron Zannone, and given to the Queen, was in order, the King made a sign that Lady Tourzel was to hand it over. She drew the precious paper from her pocket and let Sausse have it. He charged his wife to do the honor of his house while he went to the town-house.
It was a lively meeting, for Drouet was there to fan the flames. The silence of curiosity fell as the attorney entered with the document. All knew that he harbored the party. The mayor pronounced the pass perfectly good.
"It must be good for there is the royal signature," he said.
A dozen hands were held out for it but Drouet snatched it up.
"But has it got the signature of the Assembly?" he demanded.
It was signed by a member of the Committee though not for the president.
"This is not the question," said the young patriot, "these travelers are not Baroness von Korff, a Russian lady, with her steward, her governess and her children, but the King and the Queen, the Prince and the Princess Royal and Lady Elizabeth, a court lady, and their guardsmen—the Royal Family in short. Will you or will you not let the Royal Family go out of the kingdom?"