It would be impossible to describe the meeting between Jean and his loved ones on that memorable night. To Mère Clouet and Yvonne it seemed as though he had actually risen from the dead. For months they had received absolutely no news of him, or his fate. Yvonne confided to him that Mère Clouet had even gone to witness the daily executions at such times as she felt she could be away from necessary work, though the sight of them nearly killed her. But it seemed the only way in which she could learn whether the boy had yet been doomed to perish. As her work, however, compelled her to miss many days, she could never be certain that he had not been executed in her absence.
For several days Jean remained securely hidden. It would have been far from safe for him to show his face out of doors, for his enemy, La Souris, was still very active. So he stayed indoors, played with Moufflet, and asked incessant questions about the long period of his imprisonment, striving to learn every detail of what had occurred in his absence.
While he was thus in hiding, Paris was full of strange mutterings and subdued excitement. People conversed in undertones in the streets, gesticulated freely and had heated arguments. Detachments of soldiers were stationed in every quarter, and an uprising of some kind was plainly expected. Jean remembered the words of the Baron de Batz, and scented trouble but could make little of what he slyly witnessed from the windows. In fact, people seemed themselves scarcely to comprehend the true cause of all this ferment. Naturally the unrest communicated itself to Mère Clouet and thechildren. Yvonne begged to be allowed to go out and investigate but Mère Clouet and Jean would not hear of this. At last, on the afternoon of July twenty-eighth, Mère Clouet herself could no longer contain her curiosity.
"I am going out myself!" she announced. "I at least will be safe in the streets, and something unusual is happening to-day. Rest you here! I will come back shortly, and tell you all about it!" And she hurried away.
Now it must be explained that France, from the time of September, 1792, had determined to change the names of all the months, and number the years beginning from her birth as a Republic. Consequently this day of July 28, 1794, or the Tenth Thermidor, year II, as she called it, was destined to be a date long remembered in history.
In about two hours Mère Clouet came back. She was breathless, her eyes were flashing, and she was under the influence of some keen excitement.
"My soul!" she exclaimed, sinking into a seat "What I have seen! What I have heard! What times we live in! You will scarcely believe me! I went to the Rue St. Honoré. It was filled with a shouting crowd. I asked a woman what was happening, and she looked at me as though she thought me insane for not knowing! 'Where have you been?' she cried. 'What! do you not know that Robespierre was yesterday condemned by the Convention for his barbarity, declared an outlaw, and naturally headed for the scaffold? Coward that he is! He tried to kill himself, but missed his aim and only wounded his jaw. He's on the way to the guillotine now, with a few others of a similar stripe,—Couthon, Henriot, St. Just! Curse him! Curse him! He put to death my husband and my father for no crime at all,—they were good Republicans! And Barras,—he's in command of all the forces of Paris, and will soon be at the head of the government, also.He is at least a humane man! Ah, here comes the tumbril now!'
"Then a mighty roar went up from the crowd, a cart jolted up the street, and there sat that Robespierre, his hands tied behind him, and his wicked face bound up in a rag! Faugh! the sight turned me sick! But here's something else quite as wonderful! Directly beside him, cheek by jowl, sat (you'll never believe me!) that ruffian Simon the cobbler, in the very Carmagnole suit he used to wear in the Temple. His teeth fairly chattered with fright! Ah, but I wish the little fellow could have seen him! Was ever a punishment so well deserved!
"Never, in all my life have I witnessed such a sight! People sang for very joy, and even strangers embraced each other. They say that in some of the prisons, many were set free! I saw a man pay thirty francs for a newspaper telling how yesterday Robespierre was condemned! They say the Reignof Terror is over! Thank God! Thank God!" And Mère Clouet, no longer able to control herself, sobbed in sheer ecstasy of joy.
The Reign of Terrorwasover, at last! In a few days that became apparent. Exiles flocked back to the country. Prisons gave up their "suspects" to the number of ten thousand. Families were reunited, and people who had been existing miserably in all sorts of hiding-places, came out of their seclusion. Paris became a city of resurrected hopes and homes.
On the morning of the Tenth Thermidor, Barras had made a tour of all the military posts of Paris, in the course of which he stopped at the Temple and inspected it. When he saw the condition in which poor little Louis XVII was kept in solitude, he was filled with pity, and announced that this must be improved, and that he would at once take steps to accomplish it. We will now seewhat the Tenth Thermidor brought to this unfortunate little monarch.
Six months had passed since Louis Charles had been barred into his lonely cell. Not that he realised the time at all! One day dragged on wearily and gave place to the next, but he took no heed, and probably knew not whether his time of incarceration had been six months or as many years.
It was the twenty-eighth of July, 1794. For three days the child had lain inert upon his bed. Life had become absolutely insupportable to him. At the very moment when he had been compelled to rise and take in his morning meal, wishing that they would send in no more food so that he might die the quicker, Robespierre and Simon were passing through the streets in a tumbril to their well-deserved reward. But he knew it not!
That night the light of a candle shone through his wicket, and an unusually gentle voice called to him: "Capet! Little Capet!Are you there?" "Yes!" he answered feebly.
"Can you not come here a moment?" the voice continued. But the boy was too weak to try, and too exhausted even to answer again. Then the light disappeared, and the gentle voice was silent. He passed the night in a feverish sleep. His poor limbs were wasted and thin, and great swellings on his knees and arms gave him unspeakable pain. No one would have recognised in him now even the pale captive of the cobbler, much less the beautiful boy of the Tuileries.
Next morning he was called again, by many voices this time, but he could make no response at all.
"He is dead!" he heard someone say. "Let us break down the door!" Forthwith, resounding blows rained on the barrier of his prison. When at length an entrance had been forced, several strange men entered.
"What a horrible place!" they all exclaimed, starting back in amazement and disgustat the filth and vile odours, and the rats and mice scampering off in all directions. The child lay on the bed nervously watching every movement, wondering what new horror this invasion boded. The municipals put to him many questions about himself, but he had neither the strength nor the courage to answer them. Most of them concluded that he had either become deaf and dumb, or had lost his mind during his confinement Presently one of them noticed his untouched meal of the day before still on the table.
"Why do you not eat?" he demanded. The boy raised himself on his arm with a great effort.
"Because I wish to die!" he answered quietly. Tears rose to the eyes of one or two of his questioners, and after a hasty consultation they all left the room, closing the door but not barring it. After a while it opened again, and the child awoke from an uneasy sleep to find a slight, thin, kindly-faced little man bending over him.
"I am Laurent," said the same gentle voice of the night before, "and I have come to take charge of you!" Some memory of the ungentle cobbler was aroused by the word "charge," and the boy shrank back nervously. Laurent divined his thought.
"Do not be afraid!" he went on in the same quiet voice. "I am not like Simon, poor child!" and a kindly hand was laid on the matted hair. Still the boy made no response. He was too sick, too weak, too listless, to care very much what might happen to him now, and he only desired to be left in peace.
But Laurent had him moved from his loathsome cell, and placed on a cot in the clean, airy outer room. With the assistance of Caron the cook, he bathed the child in warm water, put on fresh clothes, and gently tried to comb the tangles from his matted hair. Then Louis was given a little fresh fruit to eat, and some milk, in place of the horrible fare on which he had lived for sixmonths. After that Laurent left him to rest and sleep.
Words cannot paint the slowly growing amazement of Louis Charles at these changes. So long had he been left to cruel neglect that he could hardly yet comprehend how any kindness remained in the world. And six months of absolute silence had rendered him so unaccustomed to speech, that the good Laurent could not draw from him one word. Many a dumb grateful look had the child given him, but as yet his lips were silent. When Laurent came back with his meal in a few hours, he stroked the boy's head awhile.
"Do you feel better, Monsieur Charles?" he inquired. Used as he was to being addressed as "Little Capet," "Wolf-Cub" or worse, the respect and civility in this long-unused title was almost beyond belief! At length his tongue was unloosed.
"Yes, thank you, Monsieur!" he replied. And from that moment his heart went out to his new keeper. In a few days he wasbetter. Kindness, care, decent food and the human society of some well-disposed person revived the flame of life that had all but flickered out in his long solitude.
Citizen Laurent was by no means a royalist. On the contrary, his sympathies were entirely with the Republic. But his heart was so touched by the desperate plight of the little captive, that he resolved to render his condition as comfortable as possible. This had also been Barras's wish in placing him as guardian to the royal prisoner. Laurent himself was closely watched by the jealous municipals, and he could only be with the boy part of each day. Among other things, he decided that Louis Charles, to recover his health, must have exercise. So he sought, and finally obtained from Barras, permission to take him for an airing to the top of the Tower.
The little king could hardly believe his senses! He was going to see the sky again, to hear bird-voices, to smell the scent ofgrowing things! Too wonderful! Accompanied by Laurent and a guarding municipal, they made the ascent of the closely sentinelled stairs. The child, still weak and inactive, could hardly drag himself up the steps, anxious as he was to reach the top, so Laurent took him in his arms.
It was a warm, delightful evening. The sun had scarcely set, and the birds were twittering their good-night in the trees beyond the Temple. Up from the street came the calls of vendors, the shouts of drivers, and occasionally the gay laugh of some child at play. The little prince listened to it all and his eyes filled with tears of joy to think that at last he was permitted to breathe again the free air of heaven and see the blessed light, even though it hurt his eyes a great deal, used as they had been only to semi-darkness. Releasing Laurent's hand, he wandered around by himself for a few moments. Suddenly he bent down with a low cry of pleasure. "See! See!" he cried, pointing, and Laurentlooked down noticing only a few poor half-withered common little yellow flowers growing in the cracks of the stone walk. But the boy was on his hands and knees, gathering them eagerly.
The short time of outing over, Laurent led him down, still claspingcarefully the meagre little bouquet. At the door of the room on the third floor the boy stopped, pulling back at his keeper's hand with all his strength. Laurent understood! The boy wished to go in and see hismother whom he thought was still there. Poor child! He little knew that only his sister was shut up in that room. It pained Laurent to refuse him, but to grant the wish was not in his power.
"You are mistaking the door, Monsieur Charles!" he said gently.
"No, I am not mistaking it!" answered the boy, terribly disappointed, and he walked down languidly. At his own door Laurent noticed that the child no longer carried his cherished flowers. He was about to ask whathad become of them when an instinct warned him to refrain. Louis Charles had dropped them, a withered but tender offering of love, at the door of his mother's room!
After the strange events of the last chapter, Jean went in and out freely, but he did not think it quite safe as yet, to return to the tavern of Père Lefèvre, till he could ascertain what had become of La Souris. A week later, Mère Clouet and Yvonne went to the Temple with the laundry, and returned with welcome news.
"Only think!" exclaimed Yvonne. "Barelle says that Citizen Coudert has not been seen since the Tenth Thermidor! As he was one of Robespierre's most trusted spies, he doubtless thought himself scarcely safe, for you know they are now imprisoning all who were connected with Robespierre. He will probably remain in hiding for some time!"
So one day Jean returned to the tavern, in the hope of again taking up his duties as helper, and thus keeping in touch with the affairs of the little King. But Père Lefèvre had a surprise in store for him. He found to his intense chagrin, that his place had been usurped by a large, fat old woman, one Mother Matthieu, whose assistance Père Lefèvre declared he found more satisfactory than Jean's had ever been.
"She tends to her work, does Mother Matthieu!" insisted Père Lefèvre to the disappointed boy. "She does not sleep away half her time behind the counter, as you did, young monkey! And though she cannot whistle, and dance the Carmagnole on the tables, and she does indulge overmuch in snuff, she suits me better!" Jean turned away, discomfited, yet smiling in spite of himself, at the absurd fancy of waddling Mother Matthieu dancing the Carmagnole on the restaurant table! As he was leaving, he encountered at the door the burly form ofa man hurrying into the tavern, and recognised Caron, the cook of the Temple Tower kitchen. Here was a stroke of good fortune, for had he not been told to "find Caron"! And lately he had been racking his brains to think how this might be accomplished. But he did not wish outsiders to imagine that he had any business with the cook, so contented himself merely with a greeting.
"How now, stranger!" exclaimed the hearty Caron. "Never did I expect to seeyouagain! But I suppose you were pardoned out after the Tenth Thermidor. But has the Conciergerie given you such a taste for prisons that you must needs be always near one?" and he grasped Jean's hand warmly.
"I wanted to see if Père Lefèvre would take me back," explained the crestfallen boy, "for I must be earning money and I liked it here. But he will not have me."
"That's bad!" sympathised Caron. "But cheer up! There may be other things!"And he turned and went out at the boy's side. Once in the street, however, he grasped Jean's arm. "Were you ever told tofind me?" he whispered.
"Indeed yes!" answered Jean. "De Batz! We were in prison and escaped together! 'Find Caron'! were his parting words!"
"I thought so!" said Caron. "He has already told me much of you, and how you have been, and will yet be, useful to us. It's lucky we met just now, for I'm seldom out, and you could not get at me in the Temple. Now I'm going to tell you something. It's just as well that Père Lefèvre won't take you back, for I have a position for you right in the Tower. How would you like to be scullery-boy and assist me in the kitchen! I've lost my assistant, and have been doing all the grubbing work ever since. It's not very good pay, only five francs a week,—but it is something. Besides, the most important thing about it is thatyou will be in the Temple Tower!" Ofcourse Jean could not imagine himself refusing such an offer, which was one beyond his greatest hopes.
"Oh, Citizen Caron, when can I come?" he exclaimed.
"Oh, I must first interview the Council, which will then appoint you if it sees fit. But never fear! I have considerable influence with those in authority, and I can almost certainly vouch that the place shall be yours. Come back in a week's time." That week seemed the longest Jean had ever spent, not even excepting the dreary days at the Conciergerie. Promptly at the expiration of the time he sought Caron, who had agreed to meet him at Père Lefèvre's.
"It's all right!" said Caron as soon as they met. "I had some trouble at first, because you had once been 'suspected' and put in prison. But I assured them that it was without foundation, and was the work of that sneaking La Souris, who is himself in hiding to save his skin. They did not hesitate long,I can tell you! So come along with me now, and I'll show you the first things you will have to do."
Thus it was that Jean gained admission to the Temple Tower, that he became in fact a regular inmate, going home to the Rue de Lille only once a week. He soon made the acquaintance of Laurent, and was not long in discovering that kindly and humane as the King's new keeper was, he was not only a devoted Republican, but also strictly conscientious in discharging the duties the Republic had imposed on him, and would countenance no plans for his charge's escape.
Among Jean's duties was that of carrying up to the Tower room the captive's meals twice a day. At the door Laurent would relieve him of the tray, but he often caught sight of the boy in the room beyond. The first time this happened, Jean could scarcely believe that he saw correctly. This wan, emaciated, listless child the little king of his former acquaintance! Presently, however,he heard the clear sweet voice address some question to Laurent, and then he recognised it to be identical with that of the Dauphin in the Tuileries garden. But his heart went out all the more to this white shadow of his former rosy friend, and he consecrated himself anew to the wronged child's service.
Louis XVII did not recognise this new face at the door. In fact he took but slight notice of the faces about him now, and moreover, Jean had grown a foot taller and had developed wonderfully in the two years of the Prince's imprisonment. And just for the present Jean deemed it more advisable that Louis Charles should not recognise him.
Many times since he entered on his new employment did Jean beg Caron to tell him what was the latest plan for rescuing the imprisoned king. But Caron always put him off with this remark:
"Do not inquire yet, my lad. Things are not in a state where it is possible to explainthe plans, but rest assured that you are to help, and the very fact of your having found me and obtained this position has all been counted on, and is a part of the scheme. You shall know more in time!" So Jean was obliged to possess his soul in patience.
When Laurent had been in the Tower about four months, he began to suffer from the same restraint that had finally conquered Simon,—he was wearied to death of his practical imprisonment. So he applied to the Convention for a colleague who should share his duties and relieve him at stated intervals. The Convention considered his request and at length appointed him a companion.
This colleague, Citizen Gomin by name, was a short, timid, quiet man of about forty, though he looked much older. He was not at all pleased at being assigned to this duty, but he dared not refuse, lest he become an object of suspicion. For he was very moderate in his opinions, leaning neither to the Republican nor the Royalist side. And tobe moderate in those days, was to be considered almost as bad as an out-and-out enemy of the Republic of France!
His heart, however, had long revolted at the unjust imprisonment of the royal children, and he won the little king's love immediately, by bringing him as a gift four potted plants, radiantly in bloom. The child was almost wild with delight at the sight of them. He kissed them, fondled them, examined each blossom separately, and then putting aside the three finest, he said to Gomin:
"Take these to my mother, please!" Poor Gomin gathered them up and carried them from the room without a word. And Louis Charles smiled to himself all that day, thinking of the pleasure he had given his mother. Who shall say that Marie Antoinette, looking down on her little son from that other world, did not smile too, and bless him in her heart!
So the months passed, till one night in January, 1795, as Jean was preparing to gohome for his weekly visit to the Rue de Lille, Caron laid his hand on the boy's arm.
"Don't go home to-night,—at least not till later!" he whispered.
"Why not?" demanded Jean wonderingly.
"Because the time has come!" answered Caron, enigmatically. But Jean understood, and waited in breathless expectation. Later the two passed into the deserted streets about the Temple. Caron stopped suddenly in the shadow of a high wall, and grasped Jean's arm.
"Are you truly devoted tohim?" he asked in an undertone pointing to the Tower.
"I am!" responded the boy quietly, in a simple but convincing manner.
"So much so that you are willing to risk life, liberty, everything, in his cause?"
"Yes!"
"Then come with me!" And Caron led the way through many winding, half-deserted streets, till at length they stood before a littletumble-down hovel in a black, unsightly alley. Caron knocked on the door with three peculiar taps, two loud and one soft. The door was opened a moment later by an unseen hand, and someone demanded:
"The password!"
"Marie Antoinette!" whispered Caron. The voice replied:
"And Louis XVII!Enter and be silent!" Jean was mystified beyond expression, but in his young enthusiasm he was eager for adventure of any kind, and one that related to his dearest hopes was all the more alluring. He entered with Caron, his heart beating high. In utter darkness they passed through rooms apparently empty, guided always by the unseen owner of the voice. Then they descended a stairway, and stood in what Jean took to be the cellar. Here the guide lighted a taper and bent to examine the floor. By the uncertain light, Jean perceived only that it was a man, and that his face was hidden by a black mask covering eyes, noseand mouth. Presently he found an iron ring, lifted it, thereby pulling up a large stone, and disclosed another staircase reaching far down beyond the range of light.
"Do not fear!" whispered Caron.
"Oh, I'm not in the least afraid!" Jean assured him, and to tell the truth, he was enjoying himself immensely! Then the guide descended, Jean followed next, and Caron came last, closing the stone entrance after him. Guided by the little candle they groped their way down the stairs and along a passage or tunnel so narrow that even Jean could not walk upright in it, nor raise his arms far from his side. The tunnel seemed interminable, and moreover, tiny trickling streams of water slid down its sides at intervals. Jean was thankful when they ascended another stairway, and stood in another cellar. This one he could see was much larger than the first, and filled with casks and barrels, evidently of wine. Here their guide again halted them.
"Put on these!" he commanded, and gave them two masks similar to his own. When these were adjusted he bade them go up the stairs, then he turned and went back through the tunnel, his duty being that of doorkeeper. Led by Caron they went upstairs, and knocked on a heavy door at the summit.
"The password!" demanded another voice. It was given and answered as before, and suddenly the two found themselves in a brilliantly lighted room. So dazzling was the intense light after the blackness through which they had been travelling, that Jean was for a moment almost blinded. When this sensation passed, he saw that they were in a large room furnished with chairs and a heavy centre-table. Everywhere were evidences of rich taste in decoration, and the apartment was doubtless in an abode of great wealth. Around the table were seated from twenty to twenty-five men all masked like themselves. At the head of the table sat the leader who turned at their entrance.
"Welcome," he said, "and be seated!" Jean and Caron placed themselves in two vacant chairs. For several moments no one spoke. Then the man at the head rose.
"Brothers," he began, "since we are all here, we will delay no longer in opening our meeting. Unmask!" At this command every mask was removed except that of the leader, which he continued to wear throughout the session. Jean looked about him in complete amazement What did it all mean? Here were Barelle, Meunier, Gagnié, a former cook at the Tower, Debièrne the commissary who never failed to bring Louis Charles a toy whenever he visited him, and a host of others whom he knew but slightly. Most surprising of all, however, was the Baron de Batz seated directly across the table, who nodded an affectionate greeting and welcome to the boy. The masked leader looked about him, and his glance fell on Jean.
"There is a strange face among us! Whois responsible for the stranger?" Caron rose.
"'Tis I who brought him. Jean Dominique Mettot is his name, my assistant in the kitchen. He is a devoted and loyal friend of the little king, and one who will be able to render us valuable service. I vouch for him!"
"And I also!" said the Baron de Batz quietly, from the other side of the table.
"Then let him be sworn!" replied the leader. The ceremony that followed was a curious one. The company all rose, and Jean was requested to stand upon the table. He climbed up assisted by the leader who held a lighted candle in his hand.
"We are the Brotherhood of Liberation!" announced the masked one. "Our sole aim and object is to free Louis XVII from his hateful, cruel and unjust captivity, and get him out of the country or to some place of safety. For this we have sworn to devote our lives! Since you desire to join us, youmust submit to being branded with the badge of our Order. If you flinch in the branding, you are not worthy to be admitted among us. Jean Dominique Mettot, hold out your left hand, palm downward!" Jean obeyed. The leader held close under it the flame of the candle. The boy's first impulse was to shrink back, but he clinched his teeth and endured to the end what seemed to him an unspeakable torture. Finally the leader removed the candle.
"You have stood the test bravely and well! You will now take the oath of loyalty with the rest. Hold up your branded hand!" Jean held up his scorched palm, and every man in the room raised his open left hand. In the palm of each was a small scar, made evidently in the same manner. The leader raised his hand also, and they all repeated aloud the creed of their band:
"By our branded hands we swear to devote our lives and all we hold dear to the cause of liberating Louis XVII from his captivity.Likewise we swear that to the end of our lives we will never reveal these secrets, except with the permission of the entire band!" When this was over they dropped their hands and resumed their seats, and Jean was helped from the table. Barelle applied soothing liniments and bandages to his wounded hand, and the business of the meeting went forward.
In that night Jean learned much. In the first place he understood that there was a definite plot to release the little king,—a plot not confined to a few scattered souls not yet devoid of all humanity, but organised and countenanced by some high in authority, who however preferred that their identity should remain unknown. The details of the scheme were not yet fully worked out. But in the rough, the idea was to spirit away Louis XVII, hide him for a while in an unused upper part of the Temple, and substitute in his place some child resembling him that they would procure from one of the hospitals,—achild so ill that he could not in all reason live very long. On the death of this sick child it would be officially proclaimed that Louis XVII was no more, and then the real boy could be taken away without very much fear of discovery.
Many things, however, stood for the present in the way of success. In the first place Laurent was an ardent Republican and too conscientious to consent to wink at such a scheme. Gomin as yet vacillated, but his sympathies would probably soon be gained. Then a sick child must be procured and smuggled into the Tower. No child had yet been discovered who sufficiently resembled Louis Charles, though Saintanac, a surgeon in the Society, was making a daily round of the hospitals to find one. It was a terribly difficult, unthinkably hazardous undertaking, for it would mean the lives of all were they discovered, and doubtless the certain death of the very one they sought to rescue. Yet all were eager, hopeful, enthusiastic! Themeeting broke up with a renewal of their oath of allegiance and they were dismissed in the same way that they had come, through the tunnel and the hovel in the alley.
When they were outside, Caron told Jean some additional items ofinterest. The house they met in was that of the Marquis de Fenouil, an ardent royalist. It was the Marquis who had been responsible for the appointment of Gomin, whom he hoped would be converted to the cause. Caron said he was sure it was the Marquis who had led the meeting that night. They had various leaders who always remained masked, thereby avoiding absolute recognition, for they were frequently men prominent inRepublican authority. It was even whispered that the great Barras himself was sometimes behind that mask. It was also hinted that Barras had a secret interest in having the little prince removed to a remoteplace of safety. But these things were not openly spoken of.
Jean went home that night to nurse his wounded hand, with his head in a whirl, but with immense hope and thankfulness in his heart!
A month and a half had passed. Jean regularly attended the meetings of the Brotherhood, and in all that company there was no more active and enthusiastic worker than this youngest member of the league. By the middle of March many things had been accomplished and the rough details of the plot were nearing perfection.
In the first place, the Surgeon Saintanac had at last discovered a child suffering with a hopeless, incurable disease, and as like the little prince as could be wished in one so near death. The problem of smuggling him into the Tower was to be solved in this way. When Citizeness Clouet came with a basket of clean linen, the sick child was to be concealedat the bottom. The day chosen for this must of course be one when the municipals on duty were mostly those of the Brotherhood, and the examination of the basket could thus be intentionally hasty and incomplete. Then the child would be hidden in an upper lumber room, till a favourable opportunity to have him exchange places with the King.
This opportunity was not far away, for Laurent had intimated to some of the municipals that he was about to resign his position as keeper of the royal child. His mother had recently died, family affairs were pressing, and in spite of his real affection for the boy, he felt that he had done his duty and that the time had come for his removal. His successor, a man named Citizen Lasne, was a staunch Republican, but this did not worry the Brotherhood, since they planned that the false king should be exchanged for the real one before his arrival.
One other most important point had been gained by the society. Gomin had at lastceased his vacillating, and come out staunchly for the cause. Municipal Debièrne the toy-man, was responsible for this. Long and arduous had been his discussions, quiet and skilful his manipulations of the impressionable Gomin, till at length, inspired both by Debièrne's influence and his own very real sympathy for his pathetic little charge, he yielded. He was brought to the Brotherhood meeting, branded and sworn, and the cause was all but complete.
Great was the rejoicing on the night of Gomin's initiation into the Brotherhood, and a huge feast was partaken of in celebration of this most important event. Jean's delight was beyond all bounds, and he had hard work to contain his bubbling spirits, when he heard a piece of news that considerably dampened his ardour. It was Caron who told him. It had leaked out that La Souris was again walking about as if no harm could threaten him! After having disappeared for many months, he had managed to wriggle himself intofavour with someone in high authority, probably with the minor leader of the Convention, La Reveillière-Lepeaux, and was again expecting to resume his duties as municipal of the Tower.
"Look out!" warned Caron. "He has you particularly in his eye, Jean! He can't do you much harm personally, for you are under the protection of the Brotherhood. Your place here is secure. But he may be the death of the whole plot if we don't watch out!"
"I'll watch him like a cat!" declared the disgusted boy. "I'll keep him in sight every minute of the time he is in the Tower. Trust me! But, oh,whydid he have to come back?"
The day was appointed at last for the first great move. Far in the night, on the twenty-sixth of March, Saintanac drove up in a tightly closed carriage to Citizeness Clouet's door. No one was about to see him carryinto the house a young boy of ten years, desperately ill and half delirious. This child, some nameless waif from one of the charity hospitals, bore a haunting, ghastly resemblance to the little captive of the Tower.
The surgeon administered to him a heavy dose of opium that would put him into a deep sleep for many hours, and left him in the care of Mère Clouet. She and Yvonne were both in the plot, of course, though it had not been deemed necessary that they should become sworn and branded members, since Jean vouched for them. Next morning they packed the unconscious child into the huge clothes-basket, carefully arranging the linen so that he should not be smothered. Then, with beating hearts and courage steeled to the utmost, they called a cab, in it deposited their heavy burden, and were driven to the Temple.
"Mother, mother!" gasped Yvonne, pressing her hands to her heart to still theterrible thumping, "what will happen if La Souris is there and insists on examining the basket?"
"Trust in God, little one!" answered Mère Clouet. "Our cause is a just one and merciful. He will not suffer it to fail! Repeat the prayer for those in danger, child!" Yvonne's lips moved softly, and scarcely had she reached the "Amen!" when the carriage drew up at the outer courtyard.
Yvonne's presentiments were only too correct! To their horror and despair, the first face they saw as they entered with the basket, was the sly, evil, suspicious countenance of La Souris! His little, rat's eyes glittered under his almost hairless brows, and his claw-like hands twitched nervously as he reached for the basket. Debièrne and Meunier also stepped up and began to turn over the freshly ironed linen.
"Hold hard, friends! I will attend to this!" snapped La Souris. "You may look on and see that I do it thoroughly!"
Yvonne and Mère Clouet almost fainted away with terror, but they set their teeth and endured it bravely. All trembled with despair, even the staunchest man in the group, yet they dared not utter one word of remonstrance. Layer after layer La Souris removed, shaking out each piece deliberately, and holding it to the light. The operation seemed interminable, and the suspense beyond all endurance! At length all but the last layer had been removed. Nothing but that and a sheet covered the body of the hidden child. Oh, was there not something that could stop that dreadful hand!
Just at this point, out from the kitchen across the courtyard stepped Jean, bearing in his hands a huge bowl of soup for the breakfast of the soldiers in the Tower. To carry this to the guard-room where the meal was served, he was obliged to pass directly through the group gathered at the door. Well he knew the meaning of those blenched faces, those hopeless, despairing eyes, buthe walked slowly by them all without a sign of recognition.
La Souris was kneeling before the basket, holding to the light a pillow-slip, when Jean passed directly behind him. With a studied carelessness, the boy deliberately tripped over the man's foot, lost his grip on the huge tureen, and skilfully managed to pour the entire steaming contents down the back of the unsuspecting municipal! With a hideous yell, La Souris dropped the linen and sprang to his feet.
"Oh! Pardon! pardon, Citizen! It was an accident!" shrieked Jean, assuming a well-feigned fright and dashing past him into the courtyard. La Souris, frenzied by the blistering of his back, and furious with rage at its perpetrator, tore after him, longing only to lay his hands on the agile lad. Round and round they flew, Jean ducking, doubling and evading with the skill of an accomplished Parisiangamin, while the soldiers gathered about laughing and applaudingthe race. La Souris panted and shrieked for vengeance, but he was no match for this agile lad, and he stopped at last, exhausted by his exertion and his very real pain.
"Someone call a doctor!" he groaned. "I haven't an inch of skin left on my back!" Jean, the wily, was the first and most ardent to rush off at this command, and fetch the Temple surgeon. La Souris, faint with suffering, was removed to his house in a cab, having forgotten all about the basket which had long since been quietly and thankfully removed. During the excitement and noise, when everyone had rushed to the yard to witness the chase, the sick child had been carried to the attic and hidden away in a long-unused half-boarded-up lumber room. The basket was returned to Mère Clouet, and the plot so far was safe, thanks to the timely intervention of Jean. He was the hero of the hour that night at the Brotherhood, and thoroughly did he enjoy that honourable position.
"But you've no idea," he declared, "how Caron and I worked to get that soup heated to the proper boiling pitch! I was watching at the window, when I wasn't cramming wood in the fire, and I certainly thought La Souris would have everything out of that basket before it was ready! It was Caron who thought of the soup!"
"Yes, but no one could have carried it out so well as Jean!" insisted the admiring Caron. "Whoever thought that La Souris would turn up just this day! The Evil One himself must have prompted him! Well, he's out of the way now for a spell, and that's a mercy!"
All this while the little captive king was living in total ignorance that there was such a thing as a plot for his escape. Release was something he had long given up as hopeless. Sometimes, even to his childish mind, it seemed as though death alone could free him from his long imprisonment. He was grieved and sad over the thought ofLaurent's approaching departure, for he had begun to cherish a real affection for this first kindly man who had come into his life in many a weary month. He dreaded to think who might take his place, though Gomin was still to be there. But Gomin had to give much of his time to the sister on the floor above.
On the night of March twenty-ninth, Laurent bade a tender farewell to Louis Charles. When the door at last closed behind him, the boy threw himself on his bed in a violent fit of weeping. It was here that Gomin found him when he came in later with his supper. Gomin himself was nervous, excited and ill at ease, for this was the appointed time for the second great move in the scheme of liberation. On him this time depended success!
For a while the child refused to eat anything. This distressed Gomin beyond measure, for it was important that the meal should be eaten, since it was heavily dosed withopium. Nothing could be well accomplished unless the boy were rendered unconscious. At last, to please his keeper, Louis Charles swallowed the food though it almost choked him.
"Why am I so sleepy?" he presently asked. "It is not yet time to go to bed!"
"You have worn yourself out with crying," answered Gomin. "You had better let me put you to bed at once." The boy complied, his eyelids sinking more and more each moment, and before he was half undressed he had fallen into a heavy slumber. But Gomin did not put him in bed. On the contrary, he wrapped him in a large shawl, and opening the door, made a sign to someone outside.
Barelle and Debièrne entered with a huge basket that at first seemed empty. When the door was closed, however, they removed a false bottom, and there lay the sick child, sleeping soundly but not drugged. Quick as a flash the change was made. The strangeboy lay in the little king's bed, clothed in the king's own gown and cap, and Louis XVII was placed at the bottom of the basket. The false bottom was again adjusted, and the remaining space piled with odds and ends of waste that had accumulated during Laurent's stay.
When the basket was filled, the two municipals carried it upstairs, telling the sentries who challenged them that they were going to place in the lumber room all the old truck that Laurent had left behind him, in order to clear the premises for Lasne. The sentries, after a hasty examination, passed them on without trouble. The attic of the Tower was a vast space more than half filled with every manner of cast-off articles that could have accumulated in a century past. Here they removed the rubbish from the basket, and lifted out the boy. Approaching the wooden partition they knocked softly, in the manner of the Brotherhood.
"All right!" whispered a familiar voicefrom behind, and on removing a board the curly head of Jean appeared.
"Hand him in!" he said. With incredible difficulty they managed to squeeze the unconscious child through the small aperture. Behind the partition was a tiny space not more than six or seven feet in any direction. Within this space was a mattress on the floor, and nothing else. Jean laid the boy on the mattress, covered him, and called once more, "All right!" The two men drew the board into place, and no one would have suspected either that there was any space behind it, or what that space contained. Then they left the garret room, rejoicing in the success of the second great step, and Jean was left alone with his charge.
All night he sat by the bed watching. But morning came and no change had occurred. The drug still held the boy in its deadening grip. Jean ate his breakfast of half a loaf of bread, and washed it down with a pitcher of water. Then he continued his watch.About noon the little king came to himself, but so deathly ill was he from the effects of the opium, that he noticed neither his changed surroundings nor his companion for many hours. Meanwhile Jean nursed him tenderly, and forced him to swallow a healing draught that had been left for the purpose by Saintanac. Toward night Louis Charles recovered himself sufficiently to be conscious of some radical change in his surroundings.
"Why is it so dark?" he demanded. "And who are you?" Then Jean put his arms around the boy, and whispered the whole story in his ear.
"I am Jean," he ended, "who has loved you ever since I first saw you in your little garden at the Tuileries! Will you not trust me?" For a time it seemed as if the child could hardly comprehend it all. The news was so sudden, so confusing! It was too wonderful! It was beyond belief that he should be free at last, and that his long-lost friend should be one of the chief actors inthat scheme of release! But something else troubled him.
"What of my mother and sister and aunt?" he inquired. "Will they also be released with me? I do not wish to go if they remain!" Jean was silent a moment. What should he reply? But the time was not yet ripe to reveal all the truth to this loving child.
"They will also be safe!" he answered. And satisfied with this, the little fellow put his head down on Jean's shoulder, and cried long and softly in the sheer excess of his joy.
Jean remained hidden with the boy for the next few days. He was supposed to be away on a leave of absence, so at the Tower his non-appearance was thus accounted for. During this time he warned Louis Charles that his position was a terribly dangerous one, and that he must keep absolutely quiet always, and not be afraid if he were left alone, for he, Jean, could not be with him allthe time. After his horrible six months of solitude, however, this new departure had little terror for a boy so inured to suffering. He promised joyfully to do all that was required of him.
"How long do you think it will be?" he asked.
"I cannot tell," answered Jean, "but as long as that poor little chap in your place down there remains alive. And goodness knows, that won't beverylong, from the description they give of him!" Louis was genuinely interested in, and sorry for his counterpart.
"Do not waste much sympathy on him, dear friend," said Jean. "He is long past knowing even that he suffers, and death will be to him also a welcome release. Rest assured too that he is having better care here than he would get in a charity hospital! But now I must go. Be quiet and contented, and do not fear! I will come again to you as soon as it is possible. Meanwhile here is foodand drink for two days. Adieu!" And in some inexplicable manner Jean wriggled himself out of the absurdly small aperture, and closed the plank behind him.
For nearly two months and a half, Louis Charles remained hidden at the top of the Tower, waiting till the sick child below should breathe his last. During this time Jean was his frequent companion, and his only one. The boy did his best to amuse the lonely little prisoner, telling him long stories about Moufflet, Yvonne, the good Mère Clouet, and also about his own imprisonment in the Conciergerie, and his remarkable escape. The eyesight of the two children grew like an owl's in this semi-darkness, and they found after a while that they could see each other quite well. On one occasion, after they had talked a long while and fallen into silence, Louis Charles suddenly asked his companion what day of the month it was.
"The third of May, 1795," answered Jean, unsuspectingly. Louis was quiet for a while,apparently struggling with some thought or half illusive recollection. Presently a flash of joy illuminated his face.
"Why! then it is my Aunt Elizabeth's birthday! How I wish I could go to her and give her my congratulations! But I suppose my mother will remember to do so for me!"
"Yes, yes!" returned Jean, but the words almost choked him, and he could think of nothing further to say. Something about his actions aroused his companion's suspicions. Turning on him squarely, Louis Charles demanded:
"Tell me all about my mother!" Jean felt that the time had at last arrived when it was expedient to conceal the facts no longer. Summoning all his courage, he replied softly:
"She is dead!"
"And my aunt?"
"She is also dead!"
"And my sister?" pursued the relentless voice.
"She is alive and safe here in the Tower!" For a moment the blow seemed too stupendous. The stricken child sat almost stunned. Then the catechism recommenced.
"How long has my mother been dead?"
"A year and a half!"
"And my aunt?"
"Just one year!"
"And they never told me?"
"They did not have the heart!" said Jean gently. This reply broke the ice of the little fellow's grief. Tears came to his relief, and he threw himself on the bed sobbing quietly. The struggle was long and severe,and Jean left him to the sacredness of his sorrow unmolested. When the storm of sobs grew less and the tears had ceased, Jean took him in his big, brawny arms and comforted him almost as one would a tired baby. Then to divert his thoughts for a while, he told him all his experiences on the night of his first visit to the Brotherhood of Liberation, for this he had been permitted to do if he chose. The child's interest was at first languid, but gradually grew intense as the tale advanced. WhenJean recounted how he had been branded and sworn into the circle, Louis took in his own hands the branded palm of the older boy.
"And you went through all this for me?" he said in wonder. "Then will I never, never forget you, and I shall love you always, as I would my ownbrother!" Stooping, he bent his head and touched the scar with his gentle lips!
In all his life, Jean never forgot that moment!
On the night of the tenth of May, Jean attended a meeting of the Brotherhood. He expected nothing unusual to happen, and was prepared only to give an account of the little King's welfare during the last few days. He entered as usual, and found the great room full of masked figures. But one place remained vacant, and he slipped into it two minutes before the command for unmasking. In these two minutes he glanced at his right-hand companion, finding something vaguely familiar in the short, slight figure. Then came the order to unmask, and a second later Jean gave a little cry of joy and astonishment, for at his right hand sat his former well-beloved friend, Napoleon Bonaparte!
Lean and sallow and poorly clad as ever, but with the same hauntingly brilliant eyes, it was as though not more than a day had passed since they last met. Bonaparte expressed a similar astonishment at beholding Jean, but the business-meeting being in full swing, they could exchange no more than a hearty hand-clasp under the table. But when the meeting was dismissed, Bonaparte invited Jean to walk home to his lodgings with him, and talk over their long period of separation.
"By all the saints! Jean, I should never know you! You have grown a foot at least! But this is a singular meeting! Yes, I am back in Paris," said Bonaparte. "I arrived to-day. Perhaps you wonder at finding me in the Brotherhood meeting, but I will tell you how it happened.
"You must know that at present I am a friend and protégé of Barras, who, by the way, was the leader to-night. Barras was a commissioner of the Convention at Marseilleswhile I was there, and he used his influence to better the condition of my family. So of course I feel somewhat in his debt, though I partially helped to pay that off by the advice and assistance I gave at the siege of Toulon. But be that as it may, I have decided to attach myself to him. He is the man of the hour, and I must attach myself tosomething!
"Well, recently I received an appointment to come to Paris and command a brigade of infantry that is soon to stamp out the insurrection in La Vendée, but, though I came to Paris, I have refused the command. I have no taste for such butcher's work, and I consider it rather an insult to be given the infantry when I have always been with the artillery. Besides that my health is not good at present.
"So I went to Barras to-day, to acquaint him with these matters. He invited me to sup with him, and then later asked me if I seriously wished to render him a greatassistance. Naturally, as I still feel much under obligation to him, I replied that I certainly did so wish. He then told me that he relied on me as a man of honour not to reveal what I should hear if he took me to the meeting of a secret society. As he was leader for the evening, it would not be required that I become a sworn member as yet, and so I went—and met you! Privately I am glad enough to help that poor child to escape, for I think his inhuman detention has been one of the greatest outrages in history. But now tell me how it has fared with you since last we met?" Then Jean gave an account of the intervening year and a half. When he had ended, Bonaparte remarked:
"My boy, what you tell me makes me regard you more highly than ever, and I am not surprised to find you taking so prominent a part in this scheme. In fact I should have expected it. But let me whisper to you a few surmises that have occurred to me to-night. It was a curious meeting, that!—andI amused myself by striving to divine the true motives of many of the leading characters.
"De Batz and other royalists there have of course but one hope,—to get Louis XVII out of the clutches of the Republic, no matter how, and then some day bring him back a victorious king. Then there are not a few staunch Republicans like Barelle, Meunier and Debièrne, who seem actuated only by the humane wish to rescue the little fellow from his cruel captivity.
"But one man there has a motive entirely different, and he is the head and front of it all. That man is Barras! Shall I tell you what ishismotive? I have guessed it, though of course he never suspects. He sees in himself the coming man of power. True, he is powerful already, but he aims at higher things. He would rescue Louis XVII and remove him to some distant spot where he can find him if necessary. Later he will use him to dangle over the heads of the royalistsas a bait, and over the Republicans as a threat, so balancing his influence with both parties. And at last, at some expedient moment, Louis XVII will disappear forever, and Barras can make himself anything he wishes,—Dictator, Emperor, what not! It is a clever scheme!" Jean shook his head.
"I care not what the ultimate scheme of Barras may be," he vouchsafed, "if only the little fellow can get out of that horrible place! And if I can assist any, I shall only feel that I have done my duty by him and his dead mother!" So the two talked far into the night, and dawn was breaking when Jean went back to the Temple.
But how fared it in the room in the Tower, where a delirious little stranger masqueraded all unconsciously as Louis XVII of France?
For several days before the exchange was effected, Gomin had been writing daily in the Temple register, "Little Capet is ill!" This was quite true, as Louis Charles had been suffering with a severe cold. As Gomin expected,no attention was paid to this report. On the day after the strange child was placed in his care, he wrote, "Little Capet is dangerously ill!" Still no one took any notice of it, and then Lasne, the new keeper arrived. Taking one look at the inert, stricken boy, he exclaimed:
"Can that really be the little Dauphin whom I remember so well having seen in the Park of the Tuileries? I should never recognise him! He must be terribly ill. Have you sent for a physician?"
"Yes," answered Gomin. "At least I have reported his sickness, but nothing has been done about it." That night Lasne wrote in the register, "Little Capet is so ill that it is feared he will not live!" Then, and not till then, did the authorities see fit to act on so unimportant a matter, and they designated physician Desault to attend the boy. Desault was not long in discovering that his services would be all but useless. The child was far beyond hope, and all hecould do was to ease any possible suffering. Desault himself was taken suddenly ill, not long after, and died a short time before the supposed prince. Two other physicians took his place, though they too felt assured that their services would not be needed long. At last, word was sent forth on the tenth of June, "Little Capet is dead!" The event not being considered as of any special importance by the public at large, it was ordered that he be buried as quickly and with as little ceremony as possible. This was done as directed, the reports were duly made out, andofficiallyLouis XVII was no more!
Butunofficially, in the little attic room, Louis XVII was very much alive, and wild with anxiety to be released from his long confinement! The time had come for the last step in this great undertaking, and circumstances had rendered that step far easier than the previous ones had been. In the first place, La Souris was well out of theway, being still in a state where it would take months for him to leave his bed. Then, Louis XVII was considered dead and buried! Therefore, why take any further precautions for safe-guarding his empty prison, thought the authorities!
A few days after the little funeral procession had wended its way from the Tower, Jean and Caron went to the attic room to procure the great basket with the false bottom. They were going to remove some things from the room of the "Little dead Capet" to the rubbish pile upstairs. At the same hour, Mère Clouet and Yvonne were to call for the soiled linen in the now deserted room. It was all very simple! The sentries on the stairs took no notice whatever of their proceedings. When they deposited the basket in the room, Mère Clouet's big clothes-hamper was already standing there, having been brought in while they were upstairs. Quickly they took out the false bottom and lifted up Louis Charles. He was alert andconscious this time, having begged hard not to be drugged.
"I will besogood!" he promised. "I will scarcely breathe! Oh, do let me go as I am, and see and hear everything!" So they granted his wish. The change of baskets did not take a moment. As the boy cuddled down in Mère Clouet's hamper, he took one last look about the room where he had suffered so much.
"Jean," he whispered, "I pray God that I may never see it again!" Then they buried him deep beneath a mound of linen.
"Can you breathe?" whispered Jean through the cracks of the basket.
"Nicely! I'm all right!" came the voice from within.
"Then, an revoir!" returned Jean. He and Caron lifted the great burden to their shoulders and carried it downstairs. No one challenged them. No one was interested in the contents of a basket which they thought contained only the soiled clothes of a boynow safely dead and buried! They shoved the huge hamper into the carriage, slammed the door carelessly on Citizeness Clouet and Yvonne, and called to the driver:
"Number six hundred and seventy Rue de Lille!" and the cab rolled away. It was all over, and the little captive of the Temple was free forever!
When Jean came home that night, he found the king busy hugging and kissing Moufflet, while Mère Clouet and Yvonne looked on admiringly. The boy was almost frantic with joy at being reunited with his long-lost pet, and the dog had certainly not forgotten his master, for he seemed as delighted as Louis Charles himself. For two days the little king lay hidden in the good keeping of Mère Clouet. On the second night, Jean took the boy off by himself, to have a last long talk with his friend.
"You know, little king," he said, "that much as we love you, we cannot keep you always here. That would not be safe orright for you. Other kind though unknown friends have your interests at heart, and are coming to-night to take you to a place of greater safety."
"Oh, Jean," replied the frightened boy, "I do not want to leave you! I wish to stay here! There is no one now in the whole world that I really love besides my sister and yourselves. Why must I leave you? Where will they take me?"
"You will be in care of kindly people, that I am sure, though I do not know whom, nor do I know where you will be taken. But always you will have freedom and the best of care. Perhaps some day you will come back to live in Paris, when these troubled times are over. That will be a happy event to look forward to!"
"But my sister!" persisted the boy. "She is yet in the Tower. When will she be free also? When can I see her?"
"There is a rumour abroad that she will soon be released and sent to the court ofAustria, in return for certain important prisoners that the Austrians have lately captured from us. Perhaps you will be permitted to join her sometime, at your cousin's court." Louis Charles sat a long while, thinking it over.
"I suppose it must be so," he said at last, "since it is best. But I shall be very, very lonely! May I have a pair of scissors?" Jean opened his eyes at this strange request, but he procured a pair from the other room. Louis Charles took them, raised them to his head, and cut off three of his soft curls.
"This is for you, Jean!" he said. "It is all I have to give you. And these are for Madame Clouet and Yvonne. And now, there is one thing more that I wish you to do for me. I had thought to take the little Moufflet with me, and never, never part from him. But now I have decided that I shall give him to my sister, since she is soon to be free. She will perhaps be as lonely as I am and I want her to have something thatwill give her pleasure and remind her of me! Will you do this for me, Jean?" The older boy was almost overwhelmed at the little fellow's generosity, knowing well what pain it must cost him to part again with the pet he had so lately recovered, and which was the sole remaining object that could remind him of happier days.
"I will surely do this, little friend!" answered Jean, and his voice shook as he spoke. "And we will all wait, watch, and look forward to the time when you may come back to us!"
"No one will look forward to it more than I," said the boy, "and yet something tells me that I shall never come back! But at least I shall never, never forget you, and all that you have suffered and sacrificed for my sake! And, Jean, neither will I ever forget that day in the attic room,—you know which one I mean!" Jean nodded. It was the only time that Louis Charles had ever since alluded to his mother, or to his great griefat the news of her death. He kept his sorrow locked always tightly in his own breast.
Then came the parting with Mère Clouet and Yvonne. He gave them the little gift of his curls,—the only things he had to bestow,—thanked them over and over again, kissed them tenderly, and not a few tears of genuine sorrow were shed by every member of the room. Moufflet he kept hugged to his breast till the last. All waited in breathless suspense for the sound that was to indicate the time of parting,—the triple knock of the Brotherhood. At about two in the morning it came, the three soft taps so familiar to Jean. He opened the door cautiously, and there stood two men, masked in the fashion of the band.
"The password!" demanded Jean.
"Liberation!" they both replied, "and Louis XVII of France!" They were admitted at once, and saw the little king standing ready. In spite of their masks, Jean recognised the Baron de Batz and Bonaparte.However, he knew it was best to hold no personal converse with them.
"Is your majesty ready to accompany us?" inquired the Baron, addressing Louis.
"I am!" answered the child simply and manfully. There were to be no tears now, no tempestuous parting. The tender farewell of the lonely boy to his dearest friends had all come before and was too sacred to be witnessed by strangers. He was akingnow, and the royal blood that was in him rose to meet the occasion.
"Then come with us!" commanded the second masked figure. Louis XVII turned to give Moufflet a last caress and then addressed the strangers:
"I am ready! Lead the way!" They wrapped him in a long dark cloak, and making a sign to Jean to follow, the party left the house and proceeded on foot to the next street, where a carriage was waiting for them. The drive was made in absolute silence, but the little king sought and heldJean's hand all the way. At the Rue Chantereine, number six, the carriage stopped before the door of a small but handsome mansion. All four ascended the steps, and De Batz rapped on the door with the knock of the Brotherhood. The door opened on a hallway perfectly dark, and a soft voice said: