Orphans of the Storm Read online

  Robespierre--aptly described as the meanest man of the Tiers Estat:"that anxious, slight, ineffectual-looking man, under thirty, inspectacles; his eyes, troubled, careful; with upturned face, snuffingdimly the uncertain future-time; complexion of a multiplex atrabiliarcolor, the final shade of which may be the pale sea-green!"

  Such were they, afterwards to be known respectively as "thepock-marked Thunderer" and the "sea-green Incorruptible" of theRevolution. The slight, fox-like man had got himself elected to theStates-General which in May, 1789, convened at Versailles to take upthe troubled state of the country, whilst the lion-like and fieryDanton was the president of the Cordeliers electoral district ofParis--the head of a popular faubourg faction, not yet of power in theState.

  The new helmsmen of the State, headed by Mirabeau, steered withconsiderable success among waters as yet but partly roiled. AtVersailles an outward and visible Liberalism triumphed. The ThirdEstate or Commons, consolidating its authority as a permanentassembly, took measures to end the national bankruptcy and tried tocope with the awful menace of starvation. It was a bourgeois body,thinly sprinkled with members of the nobility and clergy; its aim, toabolish the worst seigniorial abuses, restore prosperity, and supportthe throne by a system of constitutional guarantees.

  But when the Storm broke, it was not at Versailles where theselawgiving Six Hundred debated the state of the Nation, but at Paristhat the group known as "Friends of the People" lashed the populardiscontents to unmeasured and ungovernable fury.

  It begins in the Palais Royal where "there has been erected, apparentlyby subscription, a kind of Wooden Tent, most convenient--where selectPatriotism can now redact resolutions, deliver harangues, withcomfort, let the weather be as it will. Lively is that Satan-at-Home!On his table, on his chair, in every cafe, stands a patrioticorator; a crowd round him within; a crowd listening from without,open-mouthed, through open door and window; with 'thunders ofapplause for every sentiment of more than common hardiness.'"

  Strange that in a Royalist garden should sprout the seeds of a greatRevolution! Stranger the crowds that gathered there, and the leadersboth popular and Royalist--among the former, our fiery friend Danton,our cautious, snuffling Robespierre, and the boy of genius CamilleDesmoulins, Danton's "slight-built comrade and craft-brother, he withthe long curling locks, with the face of dingy blackguardism,wondrously irradiated with genius!"

  General Lafayette and Minister from America Thomas Jefferson camethere too now and again, to watch the crowds and hear the speeches.Symbols of America's newly won freedom, they were objects of almostsuperstitious veneration to the agitators for an enfranchised France.Danton, Desmoulins and the rest crowded around them, eager to shaketheir hands and listen to their comments. In particular, Lafayette'ssword--the gift of the American Congress a decade before, excitedtheir admiration.

  "From America's Congress!" repeated Danton fervently as he eyed theinscription on the scabbard. "Why, that's the kind of Government wewant over here!" Tears came into the Frenchman's eyes, to think of theLiberty that Lafayette had helped to win.

  The Palais Royal gardens were the property of the King's cousin, LouisPhillipe. Disgusted with not being in the councils of the monarch andleaning to democracy, he permitted the place to be used for publicpromenades, lovers' meetings--and popular harangues. Friends of thePeople, Friends of Phillipe, and Friends of the King freely rubbedelbows. The popular tide set so strongly that none dared openly opposethe demagogic orators. A bread famine had descended upon Paris. Thescarcity of wheat and flour was an ever-present theme; the oppressionof autocracy and seigniorage, another. The cry for direct actionalways woke echo in the popular breast, sick over the delays of theVersailles lawgivers, and nourishing the hope of seizing pelf andpower, rescuing their kinsfolk from the prisons, and beating down theKingship and aristocracy to relinquish privileges and abate thehardships of the Common Man!

  Plain, embittered envy stalked abroad, too--envy of the aristocrats'grand homes and unparalleled luxury, their fine equipages andclothing, costly foods and wines, their trains of lackeys and menials,the beauty and joie-de-vivre of their sons and daughters! Themechanic, the storekeeper, the unskilled laborer, the ranks ofunemployed, and the submerged tenth obliged to live by their wits orstarve, were as fuel to the spark of the orators' lightning.

  'Twas unlike a well-ordered land wherein each one receives thewell-merited reward of toil. Justice was not in the body politic.Tyranny, extravagance and bankruptcy on the part of the ruling classhad wiped out the margin of plenty. Black ruin seemed to impend forall. It was a case of starve--or unite against the rulers andoppressors of society. Danton, the thunderer of mighty speech,dominated these gatherings, aided and abetted by the eagle-likeDesmoulins and the crafty Robespierre.

  "With the People's government," his swelling periods resounded, "thereshall be no common man, no aristocrat--no rich nor poor--but allbrothers--brothers--brothers!" Imagine if you can the fire-drama ofhis recital of generations of cruelties and wrongs--his picture oftheir miserable lot and of the envied aristocrats' pleasures--and thenconsider the pitch of frenzied republicanism to which this wonderfulfraternal climax uplifted them! With crash of thunder and wrack of theelements the Storm must break, directly the popular feeling foundimmediate object of its ire.

  CHAPTER X

  THE ATTACK ON DANTON

  But the royalists were not idle. Their spies attended the meetings.Their swordsmen provoked street encounters with popular leaders.

  They had always coped with popular ferments by picking off theindividual leaders, and they did not doubt their ability to do thesame thing now. As Danton spoke, an influential Royalist, pretendingto handclap his sentiments, privately signaled to a number of these"spadassins" or killers.

  On his way home from the meeting Danton was attacked in the lonelystreet. He backed up to a house porch, quickly drew his own sword, andwith herculean strength managed to cut down five or six spadassins ofthe advance party.

  Then he fled to the house where Henriette and also Robespierre lodged,rushed in and up the stairs. The following company were almost uponhim. Their shouts and cries could be heard below.

  Danton plumped into the first door at the left of the stair-head. Hewas there when Henriette, who had been momentarily away, returned toher room.

  "The spies--spadassins--they would take my life--" He was wounded. Itwas with a difficult hoarseness that he spoke.

  The little homekeeper put a warning finger to mouth. Running past himto the door, she slipped out and closed it. She withdrew to the backof the hall, and came forward nonchalantly as the assassins reachedthe hallway.

  Rapier at her throat, the leader put the silent but terrible question.Henriette's heart jumped. She managed not to show her terror.

  "I saw a man going up those stairs three steps at a time!" she liedsuperbly, pointing to the floor above.

  The company ran up the third-floor stairs on the double jump. As theyvanished, she was inside her rooms again and with the quarry.

  Minutes passed. The spadassins searched the top garrets. They soughtthe roof, saw escape was impossible that way. Then they clattered downthe stairs. The leader hesitated at Henriette's door.

  "Faugh!" he said. "The girl is just a simpleton, she couldn't havetricked us!"

  At his command the men marched down--to encounter unexpectedly acompany of national gendarmes that had been hurriedly summoned to thescene of the disturbance.

  In the porch melee Danton's side had been painfully slashed. Despitethe pain, he recognized his little preserver and thanked her. Stillholding his hand to his side and half-reeling, he moved to go. Nowthat all seemed quiet, he proposed to rid her of the compromisingpresence of a man in her room.

  Henriette seized him with her little arms.

  "No, no, you can't go!" she said with a little smile of divine pity."Better a little gossip about me than that you should lose your life."Henriette locked the door!

  She strove to carry the disabled giant to the nearest cha
ir. Leaningheavily on her, he walked with an effort and plumped down on it. Oneof his arms was around her. She tried to free it, but it clung. Withhands and knees she crawled out backward from the unconsciousembrace.

  It was the work of but a few minutes to wash and bind his wound. Nextshe spread a pallet on the floor, assisted him to it, wrapped himwarmly, and with a kind "Good night!" left him to go to her littleboudoir....

  That same night the spadassins were met and disarmed by the gendarmeswho (largely owing to Danton's eloquence) espoused the people's side.And that is why Monsieur Robespierre, his confrere, was abroad veryearly, without fear of assassins, and nosing for news.

  "I hear Danton was in a little trouble last night!" gossiped the slickcitizen with his landlady. "The fight was in this very house, was itnot?"

  The landlady, it seemed, was ignorant of Danton's refuge. ButRobespierre suspected. He decided to investigate, being a stickler forpropriety. Mounting the stairs stealthily, he knocked at Henriette'sdoor.

  The girl and the man were at their leave-taking. Few words werespoken. The giant clasped both her little hands in his great paws.

  "What you have done for me I shall never forget!" he was saying.

  "Oh, if I had a great kind brother like this!" was her suddenthought.

  "Whisht!" she whispered vocally as the knock was heard. Again thelittle gesture of warning finger to mouth.

  She stole to the keyhole and thought she recognized the habiliments ofher neighbor the dandy. Motioning Danton back out of sight she openedthe door on the crack, closed it as she slipped through, andencountered the bowing and smirking Robespierre.

  "A man escaped from the spadassins here last night-did he find refugewith you?"

  "You are mistaken, Monsieur. I am quite alone."

  "May I just see? Very intimate friend of mine, I am sure."

  "No, you _may not_!" Henriette quickly reentered, and slammed andlocked the door on the future Dictator of France. 'Twas only a littledoor slam, but it re-echoed later, even at the Gates of Death! Rubbinghis long nose Robespierre took snuff.

  "Sh-h, he is still there!" whispered the girl to Danton, with anotherlook through keyhole. Presently steps were heard going downstairs.

  "I think he is gone!" she said, verifying her statement by againopening the door and finding the coast clear.

  Danton, with a final good-by, went his way.

  The sneak, however, had retraced his downstairs steps with cat-liketread. In an alcove of the back hall he had found a hiding post.

  As Danton's broad back descended down the steps, a vulpine head peeredout of the alcove, and Robespierre's cunning, self-satisfied lookshowed that he recognized Henriette's visitant.

  CHAPTER XI

  LOUISE BEFORE NOTRE DAME

  In the days following her immurement in the dreadful sub-cellar,Louise became the Frochards' breadwinner. Her pathetic blindness,lovely face and form, and sweet young voice attracted sympathy fromeach passer-by. The offerings all went into the capacious pocket of LaFrochard, whence indeed most of them were stolen or cajoled by herworthless scamp of a Jacques.

  The old hag feared only lest she lose her precious acquisition of theblind girl. She guarded her ceaselessly, and warded off dangerousquestioners.

  It was not easy, however, to avoid the good Doctor from La Force, whogave them a donative and looked at the girl with deep professionalinterest. Despite the beggar's tactics, he insisted on examining thepupils, then called La Frochard aside.

  "Don't encourage her too much," said the old gentlemen kindly, "butbring her to me. I am quite sure that she can be cured."

  Rejoining Louise and smiling her wheedling beggar's smile at thedeparting Doctor, the features of Widow Frochard suddenly contorted inblack rage--she shook her fist at the physician directly his back wasturned. Monstrous--to restore sight, and thus make the girl worthlessas object of charity! La Frochard felt she had good reason for herrage.

  "Can the Doctor do anything?" ventured Louise to the hag, timidly.

  "No, he said your case is hopeless."

  They were standing now near the snowy steps of Notre Dame, awaitingworshippers whose pity would be stirred by the girl's misfortune.Half-drunken Jacques had reeled out of a cabaret to exact hisshare of the plunder. Mother and first-born cursed heartily thescissors-grinder Pierre who came limping up, saying he could get nojobs on account of the bitter cold, wintry day. Kicking the crippleand twisting Louise's arm were the favorite pastimes of Jacques andthe Widow.

  On this occasion the hag snatched the covering from the wretchedgirl's shoulders and put it around her own. "You'll shiver betterwithout that shawl!" she said, brutally setting the scene for theworshippers' charity.

  "Jacques and I," she continued, "are going to get a little drink towarm our frozen bodies.

  "Guard her there, you good-for-nothing Pierre, or I'll break everybone of your body!" They departed to spend the Doctor's gold-piece.

  Pierre tried vainly to comfort the girl. He could but find her a seatin a pile of snow! He warmed her hands with his own, strove to speakcheering words. But teeth were chattering, and her frail form wasquivering as with the ague.

  A great wave of pity and love overwhelmed the cripple. He peeled offhis coat, beneath which were but the thinnest rags. He wrapped itaround her, saying:

  "There, there! this will help you keep warm. I really do not needit--I--I-am-not-c-c-cold!"

  His own teeth were chattering now, and his pinched features werepurple.

  The blind girl touched his icy arm, half exposed by his ragged shirt,as she rose to sing for the charity of those who attended mass.

  "No, no, Pierre," she cried, removing the coat from her shoulders, "Iwill not let you freeze. Oh, how selfish I am to permit you to suffer,who have been so kind to me!"

  Rejecting his entreaties, she made him put it on again, hiding her ownsuffering.

  "Hearken! there sounds the organ for the recessional!" she continued."Soon the people will be coming out. I will sing the same songs thatmy sister Henriette and I used to sing. Perhaps some one willrecognize the melody, and lead me back to her!"

  A beautifully majestic, ermined figure stepped graciously out of thechurch, as La Frochard rejoined Louise and began whining: "Charity! Inthe name of God, Charity!" whilst the girl's voice lifted up in an oldplaintive melody.

  The lady was the Countess de Linieres, returning from her devotions.

  The song evoked memories of a bitter past and of a long lost daughtersnatched from her in infancy. Bending over poor Louise, she asked: "Mychild, can you not see me?"

  "No, Madame, I am blind," was the low, sad answer.

  MARQUIS DE PRAILLE PLYING HIS ART WITH THE LADIES.]

  A strange sympathy stirred in the Countess for this girl. There seemedto be some hidden link between them, the nature of which baffled her.She felt the impulse to protect and cherish--was it the voice ofMother Love obscurely speaking?

  "Alas!" said Louise. "Blindness is not the worst of my misfortunes.I--I--"

  La Frochard administered a terrible pinch that pulled Louise away,then "mothered" her cutely. "We are starving, my beautiful lady," shewhined, "and the poor girl is out of her head. What is that you say?_Not my daughter?_ Yes, indeed she is--the precious--and the youngestof seven. Charity, charity! In the name of God, charity!" shesniffled.

  Reluctantly Countess de Linieres stifled the impulse to mother thiskindred and hapless young being, averred to be the beggar's daughter.She placed a golden louis on the palm of the singer, saying:

  "Give this to your mother, child."

  CHAPTER XII

  LOVE, MASTER OF HEARTS

  The Count's demands brought to a head a resolve that had takenpossession of Chevalier de Vaudrey's heart and soul. Always thepicture of the sweet Norman girl he had saved from de Praille's foulclutches was in his waking thoughts, of nights he dreamed a blessedromance! He recked not of the Count's displeasure, sorrowed that hemust displease his Aunt as sorely. The only bar was that a vis
ion ofthe lost Louise stood, as it were, between him and his belovedHenriette.

  Now that he had come to her to speak of his proposal, the little heartstill quested for the lost sister.

  "Don't you ever think of anyone but her?" he asked.

  A negative shake of the golden head and ringleted curls was theanswer, though the cupid mouth and the blue eyes smiled withtenderness. They stood very close to another, like poles of a magnettwixt which a spark flashes.

  Silently Maurice drew from his pocket a ring. 'Twas of pure gold, alovely and exquisite bauble, whereof the two little claws clasped agolden heart. He handed it to Henriette, who took it with a happysmile till she realized its meaning as betrothal.

  A wave of color overspread her cheek. The heir of the de Vaudreys togive himself to her! Pride and love mingled in her thoughts.

  Yes, to throw himself away on a Commoner girl--he meant it. Flashedthe picture on her mental retina of the little solemn oath to Louise.What he asked was impossible--for him and for her.

  Henriette handed back the ring.

  "Marry you--an aristocrat! Why, that would ruin you in the eyes of_all the world_!"

  He was down on his knees, pleading, agonized, distressed, looking forsome sign of relentment from the beauteous little head that seemedrigidly to repress emotion.

  "Then you d-o-n-'t l-o-v-e m-e?" he faltered at last, rising.

  "No!" was the reply, in a firm but very small voice.