The Rose of Old St. Louis Part 31

"You will not need to play the orator, for I repeat to you that this debate will not take place, because the plan so unlucky as to be disapproved by you, conceived by me, negotiated by me, will be ratified and executed by me--by me alone; do you understand?--by me!"

Then he sank back once more to his neck in the water. Joseph, whose self-control was all gone, his face aflame, roared:

"Well, general, on my side, I tell you that you and I and all the family, if you do what you say you will, may get ready to join shortly those poor innocent devils whom you so legally, so humanely,--above all, with so much justice,--have had transported to Cayenne!"

This was a terrible home thrust, and I could see Lucien draw hastily still farther back toward the door, and the valet literally cowered.

"You insolent fellow!" thundered Bonaparte. "I ought--" But I did not hear the rest of the sentence, for as he spoke he rose quickly from the water and plunged heavily back, so that the water dashed out in a flood on the floor. Lucien, who was back by the door, escaped a wetting; but Joseph received the splash full in his face, and his clothes were drenched. The valet ran to Joseph's a.s.sistance, but had no more than begun to sponge him off than he fell to the floor in a fainting fit. The quarrel was calmed at once, and the Bonapartes good-heartedly ran to the rescue. Joseph hurried to pick him up from the wet floor; Lucien rang the bell so hard that Rustan and another servant came running in, frightened; and the First Consul, his eyes and lips just visible above the rim of the bath-tub, called out sympathetically:

"Carry off the poor fellow, and take good care of him."

As for me, the excitement was too much for me also. I did not faint, but my stool, which was none of the steadiest on its three legs, suddenly tipped from the excess of my emotion, and, though I caught myself from falling entirely, I yet made what sounded to my horrified ears a deafening racket. In reality I suppose it was only a slight scuffling noise, but it was enough to catch the quick ears of the First Consul and Rustan.

"What was that?" I heard the First Consul say in a startled tone.

"I think, sir, it was some noise in the closet," I heard Rustan reply.

"If Monsieur Joseph will a.s.sist in supporting your valet, I will investigate."

Now was my last hour come. But I was not going to die like a rat in a trap. I would rush out the door into the public corridor, and, if necessary, slay the guard and make one bold dash for safety. I drew my sword from its scabbard to have it in readiness in my hand for whatever might befall, pulled back the curtain, and came near running through the body my pretty Felice! She was coming to keep her promise to me and show me the way out. She did not seem to see my sword, but the moment she saw me she spoke in great excitement:

"Make haste, Monsieur; there is not a moment to lose. You can escape through the main corridor. But you must be quick, for the Consul may finish his bath at any minute, and his brothers retire here to await him while he dresses."

We were hurrying toward the door as she spoke, but I, feeling as if the Mameluke were close behind me, seized her hand and dragged her roughly into the corridor as I whispered:

"Yes, we must be quick, for Rustan is after us!"

With a half-suppressed scream she let go my hand, turned to Gaston, who was standing at the door motionless as a statue and, to all appearance, deaf and blind as one also, uttered the one word, "Rustan!" and fled swiftly down the dark side corridor, leaving me utterly bewildered. The western sun was flooding the cabinet of the First Consul when I went into my hiding-place, but the sun had set and twilight had fallen and the candles had been long lit when I stepped out into the corridor. The wax tapers set in sconces along the corridor lighted it but poorly, and I knew not which way to go.

"Run, Monsieur!" cried Gaston, in a terrified whisper, "straight down the corridor till you come to the grand staircase. And run as if the devil was after you, for he is!"

That was all I needed,--a word of direction,--and I was off. But scarcely had I gone a few feet when I heard a great noise and shouting behind me, and Gaston crying, "Stop thief!" I thought at first he was turning traitor, now that he had my gold piece with no chance of gaining another from me. But as I ran the faster, and the noise behind me did not seem to gain on me, as I feared it might, I concluded he was making a great outcry to cover his own part in my escape, and perhaps was hindering the pursuit more than helping it.

Yet when I came to the turn of the grand staircase I thought for a moment I had also come to the end of my days; for just as I felt sure I was distancing those behind me, there came running swiftly toward me from the other end of the dim corridor an officer with sword drawn, and I saw he would meet me exactly at the head of the grand staircase.

The light from a tall taper fell on his face as he neared the staircase. It was the Chevalier Le Moyne!

I had but a moment to think. Should I stop to engage with him, I had no doubt I could unsword him as easily as he had unsworded me in the dance by Chouteau's Pond; but the delay would bring a score to his help, and I would be quickly overpowered, if not done to death at once. Neither did I like to turn my back on that drawn sword as I fled down the steps, feeling sure it would spit me through the shoulders, much as Narcisse spitted the wild fowl for roasting at emigre's Retreat. But above all I did not wish the chevalier to see my face; for, even should I make good my escape, Paris would be no safe place for me should he recognize in the flying "thief" his hated St. Louis rival.

I pulled my hat low over my eyes, lifted my left arm before my face as if to shield it from his sword, rushed straight toward him, met him, as I thought I should, at the top of the staircase, and, with a quick twist of my foot (a school-boy's trick), sent him sprawling down the stairs. In three great bounds I had cleared the staircase and his prostrate body, and like a whirlwind I threw myself upon the sentry at its foot, who--half dazed by this sudden descent of the chevalier and myself, one rolling and b.u.mping from step to step, the other leaping through the air like some great winged creature--was nevertheless in the act of raising his gun to fire at me. As I hurled my great weight full upon him, the gun flew from his hands, and his little dancing-master figure went pirouetting across the terrace into the darkness beyond, in a vain struggle to recover his balance. I sprang down the terrace after him, and disappeared in the friendly darkness.

It was time. Starting from the gloom in every direction, armed figures seemed to spring from the ground, while down the great staircase behind me clattered, shrieking and shouting in every key, a throng of officers and soldiers, led by a dark figure gliding swiftly and silently far in advance, and holding in his upraised hand something that glittered as it caught the rays from wax tapers. In the very act of springing down the first terrace, I saw the glittering dagger leave Rustan's hand, hurled straight at my head, and heard it fall far below me on the stone parapet of the last terrace.

It was but the work of a moment to run swiftly to the pines and find Fatima, and lead her out of the thicket. I had not found my seat upon her back when she bounded away into the dark, straight down the broad green allee that led toward the Bois de Boulogne and Paris. Then was there hurrying to horse, and the pounding of many hoofs behind me on the soft turf, and the wild clamor of confused orders shouted back and forth, and a fusillade of bullets firing into the dark, if by chance one might find its mark.

But I no longer felt any fear. Fatima was stretching away beneath me with the swift and easy motion of a bird, and I did not believe there was a horse in all France could overtake her. The night was my friend, too, and a dark night it was; for the clouds had gathered and shut out even the faint light of stars, and I could not so much as see my hand before my face. But I could trust Fatima to find her way, and I felt nothing but a wild exhilaration as we went swinging along in great strides through the cool, damp night breeze, and I could tell, from the clamor of voices and pounding of hoofs growing more distant, that we were gaining on our pursuers.

Out from the soft turf of the park we clattered on to the stony streets of the little village. Here there were lights, and people pa.s.sing to and fro, who stopped and stared at the wild flight of horse and rider. But none molested until the hallooes and the clatter of hoofs of those following reached their ears. Then men rushed out from low taverns, from hut and hovel and respectable houses, brandishing arms and shouting "Stop thief!" and adding much to the noise and excitement, but availing nothing to stop the fugitive. Only one young fellow, an officer by his dress, s.n.a.t.c.hed a gun from a bystander, and fired with so true an aim that had I not ducked my head I would have had no head to duck.

But in a few moments we had left the village behind us and were once more on the unlighted country roads. Faster and faster we flew, by hedge and stone wall and orchard, whence the night breeze wafted the scent of blossoming fruit-trees, with ever the sound of hallooes and hoofs growing fainter in the distance.

Yet not until I had long ceased to catch even the slightest sound of pursuit, and we were well on our way through the gloomy depths of the Bois,--night haunt of robbers, suicides, and a.s.sa.s.sins,--did I draw rein and give Fatima a chance to breathe. As we ambled along, my pulses growing quieter as Fatima's breath no longer came in deep-drawn sobs, but regularly in warm puffs from her wide nostrils, I fell to thinking over the events of the afternoon.

Now that it was all safely over, and no ill had befallen me, and I had brought no disgrace upon my uncle, I was elated beyond measure that my adventure had exceeded my wildest hopes of its success. I had seen the great Bonaparte, and would henceforth know him as no man outside the circle of his intimate friends could possibly know him. He would no longer be, in my eyes, the impossible hero of romance, faultless and beyond criticism, but a man with more than the ordinary man's meed of shortcomings as to temper, yet with also a thousand times more than any ordinary man's power to control men and mold circ.u.mstance.

Dictatorial, harsh, intolerant of all opinions that did not coincide with his own, brooking no interference with his methods or suggestions as to his duty, he could yet be playful and affectionate with the brother he loved, sympathetic with a servant whom his own harsh temper had frightened into fainting, and touched with a soft feeling of regret for the colony he ruthlessly alienated from the fatherland.

My mind pictured him vividly in every aspect in which I had seen him, but strongest and most persistent of all was the vision of the figure in the deep-armed chair, bowed in mournful thought, or with arm outstretched to my uncle, and voice trembling with suppressed emotion, saying:

"Let the Louisianians know that we separate ourselves from them with regret. Let them retain for us sentiments of affection. And may our common origin, descent, language, and customs perpetuate the friendship!"

CHAPTER XXII

MR. MONROE ARRIVES!

"No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight."

It was ten o'clock when I reached Monsieur Marbois's house and found my aunt anxiously awaiting me. I had to explain the lateness of my return and the bespattered condition of my garments by telling her I had lost my way in the Boulogne woods (which was true, for in those winding roads Fatima did for a time go astray), and such was her horror at the thought of the perils to which I had been exposed in that forest of evil repute that she questioned me not at all about my visit to St. Cloud, for which I was devoutly thankful. She had expected that my uncle would be detained all night, so that I had no explanations to make in his behalf.

The dinner-hour was long past, but she insisted on having a hot supper prepared for me, and though my conscience a.s.sured me I deserved to go to bed hungry, the little fillet of beef with mushrooms, flanked by an omelet _au gratin_, which Jacques, my aunt's accomplished chef, sent up to my room piping hot, with a gla.s.s of fine old Burgundy, tasted a little better to me than I ever remembered anything to have tasted before. _Le pet.i.t souper_ was served in my room, because my aunt had insisted that my wet clothes should be removed (it had begun to rain long before we reached the streets of Paris) and I should get into a hot bath at once to prevent, if possible, the cold she was sure I had contracted on my wet and perilous ride.

Safe in my own comfortable room, warm and refreshed from my bath, with a delicious supper smoking before me, the memory of my exciting adventures and the discomforts of the latter part of the ride, lost in the dismal woods and chilled to the bone by the cold rain, already began to grow dim and hazy.

The April rain driving against my windows added to my sense of comfort and security. It had been a good friend to me in at least two respects: it had washed out every trace of Fatima's hoof-prints, so that not even Monsieur Fouche's lynx-eyed police could track me when the morning light should start them on the trail; and it had ruined my new puce-colored costume. Remembering how I had rejoiced in the wearing of it that very morning, its destruction might not seem to be a cause for thankfulness. But I would never dare to wear it again, lest some one who had seen me at St. Cloud (most of all, the chevalier) should recognize it; and yet I might have found it difficult to frame excuses for not wearing it that would satisfy my aunt's minute and anxious care for me, which extended to seeing that I wore the proper suit for every occasion.

But I did not feel quite so secure the next morning, when I saw posted all over the city flaming accounts of an attack upon the First Consul's life when he was in his bath, frustrated by the vigilance of his faithful Mameluke. There followed descriptions of the a.s.sa.s.sin as given by various witnesses who had had deadly hand-to-hand encounters with him, no two descriptions agreeing in any particulars, except that he was of great stature and rode a mysterious steed that bore him away on the wings of the wind.

There was great excitement throughout all Paris, and there were not wanting those who hinted at supernatural agencies. Some of those who had stood gaping at our swift flight through St. Cloud village were ready to swear that the horse the a.s.sa.s.sin rode had wings from his shoulders and his feet, and one poor lout added a tail and a pair of horns for the rider!

I might have been amused at all this if it had not been for the Chevalier Le Moyne. It was almost inevitable that I should meet him some day in the city, and when he should come to know of my presence in Paris he would at once connect the a.s.sa.s.sin of great size and his wonderful horse with the horse and rider that had s.n.a.t.c.hed Mademoiselle Pelagie from his grasp at Rock Spring. And I was quite sure, also, that no considerations of grat.i.tude for his life spared when he was in my power would deter him from handing me over to the merciless police with the greatest delight, now that I was in his power.

So it was not with a perfect sense of security that I went about Paris for the next day or two, and I left Fatima to pine in her stable rather than to run the risk of suggesting a resemblance to some St.

Cloud villager while yet the apparition of horse and rider was fresh in his mind.

I did not see my uncle until late on Tuesday afternoon. He had gone direct to the Treasury office on Monday morning, and had been summoned to St. Cloud again Monday afternoon to spend the night. I had fully made up my mind to make a clean breast of it to him when I should see him, though I dreaded much the just reprimands I knew I should receive. It was with a very trembling heart, but striving to keep as courageous a front as possible, that I obeyed a summons to his private library late Tuesday afternoon. My uncle was sternness itself.

"Sit down, sir," he said as I entered, scarcely returning my greeting.

"If you will permit me, I would prefer to stand until I have made an explanation and my most heart-felt apologies," I replied, determined to speak quickly and have it over before my courage should desert me.

"I desire no apologies," returned my uncle, a little less sternly, I thought, "and I particularly desire that you make me no explanations.

If you had any connection with the mysterious a.s.sa.s.sin and his horse, I prefer to be able to say that I know nothing at all about it. I may have my suspicions that only a daredevil young American could accomplish such feats of prowess as were ascribed to this 'a.s.sa.s.sin,'--over-power single-handed all the guards of the palace, and make good his escape on a steed of supernatural swiftness,--but I prefer that they should remain suspicions; do you understand?"

I bowed silently, too mortified to make any reply.

"I may have my theories, also," continued my uncle, "as to this young daredevil's presence in the First Consul's closet, and they would certainly not be those entertained by the police. Yet it would be a difficult matter to convince any one, least of all the First Consul and Fouche, that he could be there for any other purpose than a.s.sa.s.sination; and should his ident.i.ty be discovered, I fear no influence could be brought to bear strong enough to save his life.

Permit me to add, also, that an insatiable curiosity to be present at councils of state, such as I have no doubt led this young man to contrive an entrance into the Consul's private apartments, seems to me only one degree less culpable than the dastardly designs of an a.s.sa.s.sin."

It is impossible to describe the scathing tone with which my uncle uttered this last sentence. Nor, had I been receiving condemnation from a just judge for the most dastardly crimes, could I have felt keener humiliation. I dared not lift my eyes, and every pulse in my body sent the blood in waves to my already scarlet countenance. I broke out into a great sweat all over my body as I realized that I had forever forfeited the respect and confidence of my uncle, whom I greatly honored and admired. I felt that I must make one desperate effort to regain a little of what I had lost. Not until that moment did I dream that I would be suspected of deliberately hiding in that closet for the purpose of eavesdropping, and not to be allowed to explain to my uncle that my presence there was by accident was almost more than I could bear.