THE WINNING OF A NECK.

Press, Volume LIII, Issue 9602, 17 December 1896, Page 2

THE WINNING OF A NECK.

By Lwee Sharp, It was a beautiful eveninc—the evening of the last day of July, 1793, and the summer sun was barely half an hour high over the wide plains of France to the west. The young and beautiful Countess de La Touche sat in her saddle for a few momentregarding the small hamlet of Duvarre lying before her, reddened by the level rays of the setting sun. Although the countess had come from Lille, her horse was fresh ; she had not dared to ride as fast as her fears prompted her, for that, to the suspicious peasantry, might have had the appearance of flight. Her passport permitted her to go only as far as Lille, and she had been in that walled city something more than a week, riding out each day as if for exercise, always returning ; questioned at first, but allowed to pass the gates unchallenged these last two days. To-day she had ridden slowly until the city sank In the horizon, resolving, if she saw evidence of pursuit, to return again towards Lille, saving, when questioned, that she had merely ridden farther afield than she had intended when her ride began. As. the day wore on the belief in her heart grew stronger and stronger that she had not been missed, and now only the small village of Duvarre lay between her and the frontier. The countess was entirely alone, for these were not the times when one could travel safely with a servant following. She now paused in doubt, glancing along the straight and level road towards Duvarre, wondering whether it were better to wait till evening, and endeavour to pass round tlie village rather than through it. She realised, however, that she knew nothing of the country, and dare not inquire her way to the frontier, whereas if she kept along the road, and managed to get through the village without question, the frontier, if the maps told their story rightly, was but a Bhort distance farther on. There was also a possibility that Duvarre, being so small a place,, might not be so vigilant as the larger towns, and again there was a chance that the authorities there might be so ignorant that they could not distinguish between a passport good only as far as Lille, and one which would carry its possessor over the frontier. An illiterate maire might therefore allow it to pass rather than expose his own ignorance. There was also this to be said—most of the nobility had made their escape to Coblentz on the Rhine, and doubtless fewhad come by. way-of Lille, and possibly none by way of Duvarre, so, lightly touching her horse with the whip that hung at her wrist, the countes*-, with boating heart, made her way into the village. She had almost passed through tlie one street of the place, riding slowly and trying to look unconcerned, for the-inhabitants, sitting at their doorways, after their day's work was done, lookcd'at her menacingly, when just as her hopes mounted high that she was to reach the open country unchallenged, where even if she were called to halt, she might trust to the (leetness of her untired steed, two men with tri-colour sashes tied round their waists and pikes in their hands, stepped into the middle of the road and crossed their lances before her. " Where arc you going, citizeness ?" asked one of the men sternly. " I have the right to pass through the village Duvarre," said the countess as calmly as her agttntion would permit. "I have a passport. " "Have you so?" answered the man. " Then it would be veil to show it to the maire. He likes to see the passports of those who go this way, and he sometimes persuades one to stop over at his inn." The two men laughed at this, and the, one who had nob spoken shouted, " Gaspard ! Gaspard 1 Here is a passport for your inspection." By this time the whole of the village was around the heels of the horse, some of its citizens having entered their houses and come out with muskets or pikes in their hands. They formed a dangerous, determined looking mob, and the heart of tlie countess sank within her as she gazed down upon them. The men were mostly silent, awaiting the decision of the maire, but the women on the outskirts of the crowd kept up a constant chatter, making comments, none too .flattering* .on the fair horsewoman before them. One. of the men and most of the children of the place had run off to the inn, and they presently returned accompanied by a thick-set, red-face individual, evidently the innkeeper, wiping his hands on his apron, the crowd shouting. "Here comes the maire! Now we shall see 1" The ever thickening crowd made way for the honorable gentleman, who progressed slowly as became the dignity of his office. He accosted the countess more politely than the pikemen had dove.

" Madame," he said, " may I have the honor of examining your passport ? " The crowd nodded to one another, as who would say, " she will find this politeness of little avail if she is really an aristocrat;" for they knew well the opinion Gaspard Duval held regarding the latter, he having painted out* tlie head of Louis on his tavern sign and put in its place the red cap of liberty.

The countess, unable to speak, fumbled in her pocket for some time and at last handed out the document the maire demanded. He adjusted his spectacles, unfolded the parchment, slowly •and carefully, as if it might break in his hands, while the crowd looked on* with breathless interest. There was a long pause, during which the innkeeper scrutinized the document, and the Countess began to hope that he was indeed as illiterate as he seemed ; then her anticipations were suddenly dashed to the ground by Gaspard looking up at her and saying: " Madame,-;this passport reads only to Lille. Why are you here in Duvarre ? "

."To Lille!" echoed the countess in feigned astonishment and real despair. " There must have been some mistake. It was to have read through Lille and to the frontier. Look again, I beg of you,' sir."

The innkeeper sullenly shook his head. "It reads to Lille," he said, "and no further. Why have you over-ridden your passport?"

"lassure you, sir," cried the countess, " there is some mistake."

" I admit that, madame," replied the innkeeper, " but I doubt if the mistake has been en the part of the authorities. You must return to Lille and explain the mistake to the commandant there."

"But," cried the wretched woman, "it will soon be dark. I cannot return to Lille to-night."

" Have no fears, madame," returned the maire, "I shall send an escort with you. My son has a horse, and I am expecting him every moment along the Lille road. He will accompany you, and you will be as safe with him as if I were to guide you." It was a fearful thing to be thus trapped with the frontier in sight. " Oh, do not send mc back to Lille," cried the poor countess, as the full horror of her situation broke in upon her.

"To Lille 1" cried the crowd- " Back to Lille!" ■ ■" ' .

The maire raised his right hand warningly. " Peace, citizens," he said. " The law takes it course slowly but with certainty," and he himself, taking the bridle in his hand, turned the horse's head towards Lille, while the now noisy procession escorted the doomed lady out of the village. " I think," said the inn-keeper, " I see my son coming now. You will not be long detained, madame."

The procession had halted outside the village, and the countess, casting her eye down the long road, saw a horseman rapidly galloping towards her. As he came nearer the mob cried out that it was not the innkeeper's son. The horseman momentarily checked his speed on seeing ahead of him so large a crowd, then he advanced at a gallop once more, and speedily came up with them. The countess looked anxiously toward the newcomer when she heard it was not the innkeeper's son. As he drew nearer and she saw that he wore the uniform of the National Guard she realised that here at last was the pursuit from Lille which she had feared, although it now made little difference to her. The crowd cheered the uniform.

The officer was a fine-looking young fellow with an air of command about him that won the instant respect of the mob. " Who have you here ? " he cried, reining in his horse.

"Alady," replied the maire, "who has, through inadvertence, over-ridden her passport." " Ah, I thought as much," said the officer. " Will you allow mc to look at the document for a moment ?" The maire handed up the paper to him.

The countess,.on hearing the young man s voict?, gazed eagerly at him, with a catch in her breath. In spite of the transformation the uniform had wrought in him, she at once recognised him as Monsieur de Beaurevard, whom she had known in happier times, but the uniform of the National Guard struck a chill to her heart, bhe knew that-,-having regard to their safety, many of her class had joinod the forces ot revolution, and, even if the younfc .mto recognised her, she was well aWare that he might have neither the power nor the inclination to befriend her. . The first words of the officer after having examined the paper the maire had presented to him more than confirmed her worst fears. All, he said, "so she masquerades as a countess, does she ? Monsieur le Maire, you have made a notable capture. Your name will ring through France. You will receive the thanks of the nation. This woman is no countess. She is the assassin who murdered that friend of the people, Marat. Her name is Charlotte Corday." A cry of horror rose from the crowd, in which the voice of the countes3 joined. " You are mistaken, sir," she said. " What you declare is an atrocious slander on an innocent woman." The officer darted at her a glance so fierce that the last words died on the countesslips, and the onlookers took that as a certain sign of her guilt. The innkeeper knitted his brows and scratched his head. " But I thought," he said in bewildered tones, " that Charlotte Corday was executed on the nineteenth ? "

" So we all thought," replied the officer, " but it was not so. This is the assassin. Had it not been for your vigilance, monsieur, she would have been across the frontier. She is not a Frenchwoman at all. I will speak to her and question her in her own language, and then see if she has the temerity to deny the charge." The officer spoke to the officer in what seemed to be German. All strained their cars to catch some import of the words, but no one succeeded. The officer questioned sternly and the woman answered with more and more of a falter in her voice, and at last her head dropped, and every one saw at once that she was a confessed culprit. " It is enough," cried the officer in French. " She does not deny it, seeing that it is useless. What were you about to do with her, Mousieur le Maire ? "

" 1 was going to send her under escort to Lille."

" Ah, we must not risk that; there might be an attempt made to rescue. My troop will soon be here ; I have outridden them. Is there a prison in Duvarre ?"

" No, but she can be kept in a strong room at my house until your company arrives."

" Very good," answered the officer. " Where is your house ?"

"At the other end of the village." " Then I will escort her there. Come, madnme," he said, "it is useless to resist," and he took her bridle rein.

As the procession with the young man leading the countess' horse approached the tavern of the red cap, the officer turned in his saddle and said : " Monsieur le Maire, you must allow mc to put your name in my book so that your conduct may be reported to the authorities in Paris. I doubt not that you will speedily hear from them and that the hearing will be extremely to your liking. Maj 1 * I beg of yoh to give mc your name?" And tho young man, releasiug the bridle rein, took a notebook from his pocket. " My name is ," said the proud official. But the raaire's remark was interrupted by a cry from those behind him. The countess, gathering up her bridle rein, when the young man released it, suddenly smote her horse on the hip and the excited animal sprang forward and broke into a gallop. Half a dozen muskets were instantly leveled.

" Hold ! Hold !" cried the young officer. "She must be taken alive to Paris. lean soon overtake her. Give the command not to fire, Monsieur le Maire."

" Lower your guns," cried the maire, raising his right hand. " How far is it to the frontier ?" asked the officer

"Barely a league," replied the excited official.

" I shall overtake her in half the distance. When my troop arrives, Monsieur le Maire, see that they and their horses lire well taken care of. I shall not grumble about the bill." With that the officer struck spur to horse and followed the flying countess. " Mon Dieu !" cried the maire, " she is a third the distance already." "He is overtaking her)" cried one of the crowd, "but I think it would have been safer if we had been allowed to fire."

" You could not fire," replied to maire, "when a captain of the National Guard commanded otherwise.

The crowd watched the life and death race with eager interest. The officer was evidently overtaking the assassin. " See if she has not a pistolwith her and turns and shoots him before he comes up with her."

" Never fear," cried the maire ; " that officer understands his business."

The figures of the two grew less and less in the distance, but still the officer had not come up with her. * " By the gods !" cried the maire, "I think she is over tlie frontier now, but I warrant that officer will take her back, frontier or no frontier." .

"I doubt that," said another. "A foreign army is camped a short mile on the other side and will take himself prisoner, if he is not careful, for crossing the frontier in uniform."

The retreating figures had now disappeared, and so absorbed were the crowd in watching for the last glimpse of them, that not until the clatter of hoofs resounded on the stone-paved street did they look around and behold, entering on the Lille road, a score or moi*e mounted men of the .National Guard, and were astonished.to see that they were not captainless, as they had expected them to be. An officer rode at their head.

" Where is the maire ? " he gruffly asked. "I am the maire," replied Gaspard, advancing.

" Has any one passed you without a passport ? " demanded the officer.

" One attempted to pass here on a passport that was good only to Lille." " You did not allow him to reach the frontier, I hope," said the officer sternly.

" It was a woman, sir." "Oh, a woman ! We are • not after women," said the officer impatiently. " But you sent her back, I suppose." "We.were about'to do so with an officer of the National Guard, but " y " Ah, that' is the one. A young jnan of about twenty-five, with a dark moustache, mounted on a roan horse ? "

" The same, captain, without doubt. He rode into Duvarre about half an hour ago."

"That is the man we want," said the captain. "We, have been . searching for him more than a week, since his escape from Paris. This morning he murdered a captain of the National Guard, dressed himself in his clothes and stole his horse. We have traced him this far. Where is he? "

. " Good God!" exclaimed the maire aghast. " He has followed the countess across the frontier. I thought ", . "Thought!" cried the officer. "Who the devil requires you to think? What are your orders ? Are you not commanded not to allow anyone to approach the frontier without showing a proper passport? You have no right to allow Danton himself to cross the line without showing his credentials. Has he had time to reach the frontier yet?" "I am afraid he has," murmured the panic-stricken official. " You see, he was in tbe uniform of the National Guard and my respect for that——" "Your respect for the devil!" cried the irate captain ; then, turning to his troop he commanded: "Here, seize the man. We shall at least not return to Lille empty-handed-"—Detroit Free Press.