The Mystery of the Lost Dauphin Part 13

Therese, does not my narrative seem dest.i.tute of those shades of gay and grave intermingled which const.i.tute the charm of a personal history? Do you not long for a comic foil to this interminable tragedy? I shall abridge and hurry on.

I was carried in a straw-loaded wagon to the fortress Wessel and there placed with other prisoners destined to imprisonment in Toulon. I protested unavailingly, declaring that I was a Frenchman. I marched with bleeding feet into France. But falling on the ground in my inability to continue, I was abandoned by the guard and should have died but for the care of a peasant woman who carried me to a hospital. In a fellow patient, I recognized a former companion in arms, by name Fritz. Later on, we made our way back into Germany. To sustain life during our journey, we became common thieves and stole fruit, bread, chickens,--anything we could lay our hands on. Do you hear, Therese?

Your brother has been a common thief. Fritz remarked: "We do on a small scale what kings do on a great one." One day, leaving me his coat as hostage, he started off on a foraging expedition. He was captured by the German league known as the Strickreiter. An old peasant with whom we had become a.s.sociated, advised that I should go to Saxony where the Strickreiter were not powerful. He gave me what food and money he could spare, and, carrying Fritz's coat, in which I found six hundred francs, I resolved to join the Prussian army, it seeming my only choice. I started for Berlin. On the journey a fellow traveller evinced great cordiality, to the extent of lending me his pa.s.sport, bearing the name "William Naundorff." He declared he did not require it, being well known. I looked at this new friend intently. I had seen his face before.

Chapter XI

NAUNDORFF

What was this new mystery? Why should this man give me his name, for I was forced to retain it? When we reached Weimar, my benefactor disappeared. The freedom I breathed inebriated me and I ceased wondering. On reaching Berlin, I put up at an inn, where I was soon visited by the police who asked how long I intended to remain in the capital. I referred them to the pa.s.sport which I had delivered to the city's authorities and thus did I imbue myself forever with the personality of my fellow pa.s.senger. On filing an application for admission into the army, I was coldly informed that His Majesty did not receive foreigners into the Prussian ranks.

Discouraged and almost dest.i.tute, I bethought me of my knowledge of watchmaking and so it came to pa.s.s that I established myself in this humble business. Therese, this is the sign I displayed outside my door: Schutzenstra.s.se, 52. I was well patronized and lived contentedly until an officer called to see my license. He asked me many questions, demanded to be shown my baptismal certificate and a testimonial of good conduct from the last parish in which I had lived. Having no such doc.u.ments, I was in great perplexity. At this juncture, a woman who called herself Naundorff's sister, advised me to apply to Monsieur Le Coq, Superintendent of the Prussian Police and a Frenchman by birth.

Before proceeding, I must explain that this woman, whose devotion to me was as genuine as it was unremitting, had some time previous come from some mysterious quarter to live in my house. Her industry made my slender income yield me some comfort. Following her advice, I wrote to Le Coq, revealing to him my entire history. He came to visit me and demanded to see the proofs of my ident.i.ty. I showed him some of my doc.u.ments,--those which had been sewed by Montmorin in the collar of the ragged coat which I had worn during my vagrancy. They included letters belonging to our mother and our father's seal. Le Coq was amazed and remarked that he could give me no advice until after consulting with the King. On the following day, he came to say that I must relinquish the doc.u.ments. I was forced to obey, saving only a portion of the seal.

From that moment, I was dogged by the police and finally driven out of Berlin.

"You are in danger here," said Le Coq. "The magistracy has not forgotten that no corroborating doc.u.ments rendered your pa.s.sport valid. Go to some little town and be there known by the name of Naundorff."

A guard was furnished for my protection. I was admonished to observe the strictest reserve, for the eye of Napoleon was keen. Prussia dared not incur his enmity.

"When you are asked for your papers," said Le Coq, as I was departing, "answer that they are with the Court."

I went to Spandau in the search of peace, there to live in a coffin more effectual than the one which had enclosed me as I left the Tower, that is to say, the name "Naundorff." This spurious term was entered on the village registers. There is not another instance in Prussian annals of the right of citizenship being conferred upon a man in consequence of the arbitrary adjustment of an official, in the absence of doc.u.mentary evidence.

I put out my sign. The faithful woman--the so-called sister of Naundorff--was with me still. However the arrangement had originated, whether or not she acted as an instrument of my enemies, her devotion was genuine. To silence malicious tongues, I called her sister.

Europe was convulsed with war. "Is the Corsican's power to be broken?" I would ask myself. And then a wild hope of recovering my name and rank would take possession of me, in spite of the injunctions regarding caution from Le Coq, who visited me about this period. Then came the news of Napoleon's overthrow, followed by our uncle's ascending the throne and of your marriage, Therese, to our cousin, the Duke of Orleans. Thus did you become an accomplice in the usurpation. From many sources you and our uncle had tidings of my misfortunes, and these rumors were corroborated by doc.u.ments found in the belongings of Josephine, Barras, Pichegru and even Napoleon. I at the time wrote letters to you both, letters which I know reached your hands. You, whose lips so often speak the name of G.o.d, dare not deny that you read my messages.

Chapter XII

THE DAUPHIN'S WIFE

About this time my companion and reputed sister died. Poor woman! She was no grande dame, not even a spotless matron. In her past there had been hours of anguish, despair and shame. An unremitting train of misfortunes had dried the sources of her tears. It was misfortune which had united our lives and welded my youth to her maturity. Despised by the world, she found an asylum in me, and I, in my isolation, found pity and kindness only in her. And I solemnly declare that she was gold hidden beneath mire, for she gave me the shelter and warmth of a human heart, without which I cannot live.

When she died in my arms, blessing me for my ministrations, I regretted that I had written to you, for it seemed the most fitting consummation of my life to pa.s.s the remainder of it as a Spandau watch-maker. In my loneliness, I married a beautiful girl, daughter of a mechanic as obscure as I. Having failed to receive an answer from you, I thought to accomplish the extinction of a royal race by an alliance with this woman of the people. A frenzy of vengeance and shame mastered me as I cemented what I considered the pollution of your race and mine, by marrying this pure, gentle girl.

To-day I realize my sin in refusing to thank G.o.d for the finding in my path of the sweet blossom of love. Jeanne's affection should have been more grateful than Marie's for it came in consequence of the sublime law that merges one life into another and contained no element of reverence for royalty. But I trampled on the tender fragrance of her devotion during the beginning of our married life, in the arrogance of what I considered my fallen state in being her companion. For hours would I sit in gloomy silence. I could not smother the puerile vanity of earthly grandeur which even in the Black Hole inflated me. Between me and the gentle girl rose the high wall of ancestry, that destroyer of happiness, which seeks to make us unlike other men. I kept from her the gloomy secret of my origin and she shrank from me, almost seeking to ask my forgiveness for being my wife.

When I knew the joy which you will never experience, Therese--that of parenthood,--I called my daughter by the name which I had borne during that ill-fated journey which cost our parents their crown and life,--"Amelie." My mother seemed to live again in the child, and I a.s.sured myself that the blood of Austria and Lorraine rose, a.s.serting its purity and protesting against admixture with a plebeian strain.

Chapter XIII

THE INCENDIARY

Here Rene raised his head and realized that his chamber was full of smoke. The atmosphere was growing dense, insufferable. The mirror over the mantel broke into pieces with a sharp explosion and great tongues of flame licked the sides of the chimney. A stout man with red whiskers put his head in the door, shouting "Fire!"

Thrusting the ma.n.u.script into his bosom, Rene ran out, amid the bewildered servants and guests. Pails of water were brought from the kitchen and uproar reigned.

"Keep your wits!" he shouted. "Shut the windows and wet the blankets from the beds."

He turned to some one near and asked how the fire had started. The man replied that Count Keller's valet was to blame. Brosseur standing in the pa.s.sage way seemed inconsolable.

"I shall lose my place!" he almost sobbed. "My master will discharge me for this carelessness."

Rene was everywhere at once, encouraging, urging, advising. Brosseur, meanwhile ran into the Marquis's room, returning with the bed blankets.

At last the fire was extinguished and the proprietor grasped Rene's hand, thanking him for his services. The guests pressed near with praises for his conduct. Even the cook brandished his colossal fists in fury at the stupidity of the fellow who had caused the mischief.

"I shall find him and break that heavy head of his!" he roared, darting toward Brosseur's chamber. A moment later he returned in a rage, exclaiming: "The rascal has escaped, leaving his baggage behind."

Rene shuddered, scarcely knowing why. He ran to his room in search for his wallet. It was broken open and the box gone.

"The villain has robbed me," he muttered, as the plot became clear to him. "I felt that I had seen his face before. Ah, Count Keller,--better said, Count Scoundrel--I know now whence you came. Have I indeed undone Amelie's father? Naundorff, watch-maker, I am henceforth your staunch partisan! This piece of villainy confirms your claim."

He placed his hand in his breast in search for the ma.n.u.script and breathed more easily on feeling it.

Book III THE KNIGHTS OF LIBERTY

Chapter I

LYING IN WAIT

Opposite the Dover wharf was an inn bearing the sign: The Red Fish. The frequenters of this inn were usually sailors, wharf-hands, etc....

Sometimes pa.s.sengers from a recently arrived vessel stayed over a short while for the purpose of recovering from seasickness. At eleven in the forenoon of a day following soon after that described at the close of Book II, Kate, niece of the proprietor, displayed her rounded arms to the admiring eyes of the guests seated in the dingy dining hall, as she deposited on the tables bottles of beer and dishes of smoked salmon stewed with potatoes. One of the young men was so absorbed in gazing through a window out toward the wharf that he scarcely knew what he ate.

He seemed waiting for some one and in so doing attracted the attention of two others seated in an obscure corner of the apartment, one of whom was apparently of some thirty years of age, of contracted lips, keen eyes and a nervous att.i.tude. His general make-up was that of a man who vibrates to the suggestions of an idea. He scarcely ate and his gla.s.s of ale stood untasted. His companion had a very good appet.i.te--a handsome young man somewhat coa.r.s.e in type, of splendid proportions, ruddy cheeks, black whiskers, gleaming teeth and gay alert eyes full of directness and candor.

The two men conversed in low tones. The younger always interrupted the talk on the approach of Kate, for the purpose of making sweet speeches in her ear.

"Indeed I recognize him," declared the elder. "I have seen him in Paris and his t.i.tle is Marquis de Breze. His family is ultramonarchical and its loyalty has been paid in gold, for its confiscated property has been restored."

"I wonder why he is here."

"I cannot guess, Giacinto. Men in our position must always expect the worst. Many Frenchmen, await their vessels in this inn, but the Marquis's att.i.tude arouses suspicion. He awaits some one. The fact that he comes from _There_ should put us on our guard."