Robert Tournay Part 5

"It is impossible that they could have taken the Bastille!" exclaimed de Lacheville, rising to his feet and steadying himself by holding to the back of his chair.

"There are thirty thousand of them," replied d'Arlincourt, "and through some treachery they have obtained arms. In order to save bloodshed Governor Delaunay surrendered the fortress on receiving the promise of the insurgents that the lives of all its defenders should be spared.

They are now dragging him through the streets, crying out for his blood.

The man was mad to trust the word of such a rabble."

"Let us go into the salon," remarked St. Hilaire quietly. "There we can rea.s.sure the ladies and also view this interesting spectacle."

The three gentlemen entered the room which fronted upon the street, d'Arlincourt with compressed lips and flashing eyes; de Lacheville, unsteady of gait and with wine-flushed face, murmuring maledictions against the beast mult.i.tude; and St. Hilaire, cool and calm as was his wont.

In the salon they found the chevalier entertaining Madame de Remur with an anecdote which was the occasion of much laughter on her part.

The poet was reciting some of his own verses to the countess, while the philosopher was asleep in an arm-chair.

"The crowd have torn down the Bastille," cried de Lacheville, speaking in a thick voice, "and they are now coming down this street, seeking whom they can devour."

The ladies cried out in terror.

"Marquis, you have interrupted one of my best stories," said the chevalier petulantly.

"But, chevalier, the mob have taken the Bastille."

"Couldn't you have allowed them two minutes more to complete their work?

However, what you say is very interesting, though it does not surprise me. I have been expecting it."

"You forget that the chevalier is gifted with second sight," said the count, with a slight sneer.

"I have been expecting it for some time," continued the chevalier, "though what they wanted to take it for, I cannot imagine. If they should attack the Hotel de Ville or the Louvre, or march against Versailles, I could understand it."

Madame de Remur and the philosopher, who had awakened from his nap, had approached to hear the news; and the Marquis de Lacheville repeated it to them as if he had been an eye-witness of the whole affair.

"For my part," he said in conclusion, "I think this disturbance amounts to very little; the Baron de Besneval has but to give the order to his troops, and the valiant mob will disperse like chaff. I have seen such fellows run before this. It is amusing to see what a steel bayonet will do toward accelerating the pace of the canaille."

"They say that the French Guards are not loyal," remarked the chevalier.

"The French Guards be hanged!" shouted the Marquis de Lacheville hotly.

"I would not trust them further than the canaille itself; they are a white-livered lot in spite of their gaudy uniforms. Thank heaven, we have other troops who are good and loyal, and who will put down these disorders in a trice."

"We shall look to you, then, marquis," said the cavalier, "to restore peace and quiet for us at once."

"I would not soil my hands with such dirt," replied de Lacheville haughtily, and scowling at what he thought was a disposition on the part of the chevalier to ridicule him.

"Is there really danger?" inquired the Countess d'Arlincourt of her husband.

"The situation is grave, but I hardly think there is great cause for alarm," he answered. "The king has too many loyal subjects to permit anarchy and riot to exist for any length of time."

"Let us go out upon the balcony," interrupted St. Hilaire; "the show is about to pa.s.s under our windows." He threw open the windows and ushered his friends out upon the balcony with a gesture as if he were bidding them welcome to his box at the opera.

Down the street, with a roar that drowned all other sounds, came the surging ma.s.s like a torrent that had burst its bounds. In the front ranks, carried on the shoulders of a dozen, were two men dressed in the uniform of the French Guards. They were greeted on all sides with acclamations.

"See how the Guards fraternize with the mob," said de Lacheville. "Down with the French Guards! Down with the rabble!" he cried in his excitement, shaking his fist over the railing.

St. Hilaire gripped his arm. "I don't care how much you expose your own life, but as I do not wish to bring insult or danger upon the ladies under my roof, perhaps you had better refrain from expressing your opinions for the present."

"Do you think they would dare attack this house?" demanded de Lacheville, turning pale.

"Men who have successfully stormed a prison are not likely to hesitate before the walls of a house, even though it does belong to a marquis,"

replied St. Hilaire. "Look at that!" he exclaimed suddenly, pointing up the street. Then turning to d'Arlincourt, he said, "Get the ladies inside as quickly as possible." The count had no sooner followed his directions, than along the street, borne on long poles on a level with the very eyes of those on the balcony, appeared two heads dripping with blood.

"Dear me, whose are those?" exclaimed the chevalier, adjusting his eyegla.s.ses. "By my soul, it's poor Delaunay's head. They have treated him most shabbily. Can you make out the other, St. Hilaire?"

"No," answered the marquis, "I was never good at recognizing faces," and he stepped to the window to rea.s.sure the ladies in the salon.

The chevalier leaned over the railing and called out to one of the men in the crowd:--

"My good fellow, will you have the kindness to tell me whose head they are carrying on the second pole?"

The man, thus addressed, looked up. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with face browned from exposure to the sun. With one arm he supported a member of the French Guards who had been wounded.

"Flesselle's," he answered. "He has betrayed the people again and again.

He has received a terrible punishment."

The man who had given the chevalier this answer did not move on immediately, but stood looking up at the balcony. The old n.o.bleman, following this look, saw that it rested on the Marquis de Lacheville.

The latter, meeting the man's eye at the same moment, recognized Robert Tournay. He started forward as if about to speak, then noticing the weapon in Tournay's hand and remembering the recent warning of St.

Hilaire, he checked himself. Neither spoke, but the marquis could not repress a look of hatred, which was answered by a look of defiance by Tournay. Then the latter turned away with his companion leaning on his shoulder. The crowd closed up and he was soon lost to sight.

"They have killed Flesselle, the mayor of Paris," said the chevalier, as St. Hilaire joined him a moment later. "Well," he continued, as if in answer to St. Hilaire's shrug, "Flesselle was a fool, but I am sorry for poor Delaunay. Come, St. Hilaire, let us go in, the crowd is thinning out now; in a short time the streets will be pa.s.sable and I must be going. I have to thank you for a most enjoyable day, marquis."

"The pleasure has been mine," replied the Marquis de St. Hilaire, bowing.

"Are you going to the d.u.c.h.ess's to-night?" inquired the chevalier.

"No, I think not," answered St. Hilaire, putting his hand upon the window-bar. "After you, my dear chevalier," indicating the way into the salon. As he was about to step into the room the chevalier turned and took a final look at the street. The main body of the mob had pa.s.sed and their shouts were heard receding in the distance; although underneath the window were still a number of persons, coming and going in restless excitement.

"I think, marquis," he said, with his curious smile, "that your friends need soap and water badly."

"They do, chevalier," said the other, returning the smile, "and the smell is sickening. Come to my bedroom; I will give you a new perfume."

That evening, after the departure of his guests, the Marquis de St.

Hilaire called in his man of affairs.

"Rignot," he demanded carelessly, "have I a single estate that is unenc.u.mbered?"

"Unfortunately no, monsieur le marquis."

"Think again, Rignot. Is there not some little estate still intact? Some small farm heretofore overlooked by us?"

"Not a cottage, monsieur le marquis."