SHORT STORY. THE FIGHT ON THE STAIR.

Otago Witness, Issue 2319, 11 August 1898, Page 50

SHORT STORY.

THE FIGHT ON THE STAIR.

"LET US KILL AND DIE ! "'

The most brilliant of all the novels appearing in the current magazines either of Britain or America, is Dr S. Weir Mitchell's

" Adventures of Francois/ which is at present nmning its course in the Century. It is a story of the first French Revolution. Here is an account from its pages of an attack by a. revolutionary mob on a chateau in Brittany : —

Francois went in at once, meeting the marquis within the room. Tho musi? ceased; ihe woman cried, "Mon Dieu!" Everyone stared ai. this strange figure.

" What is it, my man V Ventre St. Gris ! 't is my thief! This way." and he led him aside into a little room, while the rest, silent and troubled, looked aftei them. ' " Monsieur, to waste no words, these cui'&ed. peasants are on their way to do "hue wli3t\misghief the devil knows. It is you they wantT There is a fool," one Divpu'd, wKo. leads them. But, Dieu! there is small time to think."

Francois, breathless,, panting, stood looking about him. now as. always observint, and curious as tq this, wonderful room- txid impassive gentleman. Toto. as well blown as his master, recognising the value of a soft rug, dropped, head on legs, meaning to have at least the minute's luxury and rest.

The marquis stood still in thought n moment. "I am greatly obliged to ycu ; and this is twice — twice. I expected ti'ouole, but not so soon. Come this way." Francois followed. Toto kept' one eye on him, and slept with the o.ther. . As they re entered the grea^ salon, the two gentlemen and Madame* Renee, all visibly agitated, came to meet them. " What is it? " they asked. The marquis forestalled further inquiry. " My daughter, our kindly peasants will be here in an hour— no. half an hour, or less. Resistance is useless. To fly is to confess the need to fly ; it. is not to my taste. You gentlemen are better out of this. Go at onee — at once! :>

" Yes. go ! " said madame. " You cannot help us, and can only make bad worse." They wasted no time, and few woids passed. The little drama played itself quickly. /"Adieu, madame!" Madame courtesied. Tho boy walked over and stood by his grandfather.. He looked up at his clear-rat face, with it? cold smile, and then at the backs of the retiring gentlemen. He had a boy's sense of these being deserters. They were gone in hot haste. The marquis troubled himself no further as to Francois. He went out of the room, and was back in a minute, while the uproar increased, and Madame Renee, at the window, pleaded with the thief, urging him to fly, or cried: — "They are coming! Oh, a ' crowd — a mob — with torches and arms ! The saints protect us! Why will you not go? Oh, mon pere — father! Thou hast thy rapier. What canst thou against hundreds — hundreds? "

The marquis smiled. "Costume de rigueur," my dear. "There will be no bloodshed, my child." " And they will all run," cried the boy. "And if grandpapa has to surrendei, he must give up his sword. When my papa was taken in America he had to "

•' Hush ! " said the mother. The lad was singularly outside of the tragic shadows of the hour.

Francois all tl'is while stood neai tho window, his cloak cast back, his queer, smile-lit face intent now on the mob without, now on the woman, the boy. the man. •' Dame ! " he muttered. "We are in dangerously high society." He set his knapsack aside, oast off his rioak, loosened his rapier in its sheath, looked to the priming of his pistols, and waited to bee what would happen when this yelling thing out yonder should burst into action. "They must have made mad haste, madame." "They are on the lerrace. Mother of Heaven'!"' cried the woman. "They wait! A man is speaking* to Ihem. They have torches. Some go— some go to the right around the liou&e." A &l-one splintered the window - jrhss, and she fell back. "Wretches!" The marquis turned to hei, " ritay here 1 go to receive our guests." " No, no! " "Doas I tell thee. Be si ill." She caught the boy to her. and fell into a chair, sobbing. The marquis called to the quaking majordomo : " Take those two candelabra. Set them at Ihe foot pi the staircase— the foot." The old servant obeyed without

words. The marquis went by him. He seemed to have forgotten Francois, who

glanced at Madame Renee and followed the master of the house.

There had beep a moment's lull outside. The double stairway swept down to a landing, and then in one noble descent to the great deserted hall, where the faded portiaits of lord and lady looked down among armour and trophies of war and chase.

"Put those lights there— and there. Get two more — quick ! Set them on the brackets below. One must see. Put out the lights in the drawing room. What, you here yet, Master Tln'ef ? What the devil are you doing here? The deuce!" As he spoke they were standing together on the broad landing, before them the great stair which led down to the illuminated hall below.

The mob beat on the great doors, and of a sudden seemed to discover that the servants, in flying, had not secured them. The doors gave way, and those in front were hurled into the hall by the pressure of those behind. In an in&tant it was half full of peasants armed with all manner of rude weapons.' A dozen had torches of sheep's wool wrapped about pitchforks and soaked with tar. Their red flames flared up, with columns above of thick smoke. There were women, lads. None had muskets. Some looked about them, curious. Those without shouted and pressed to get in ; but this was no longer easy. A few of the boldest began to move up tho lower steps of the gieat staircase. At the landing above, in partial obscurity, stood the marquis and Francois On the next ri^e behind them were Madame Renee and her boy, unnoticed; unwilling to be left alone. The stairway and all above it were darker than the redlighted hall, where ravage was imminent. A man struck with a butcher's mallet a suit of armour. It rang with the blow, and fell with clang and rattle, hurling a boy, who screamed. The butcher leaped on the pedestal and yelled, waving one of the iron gauntlet!! 1 . They who hesitated, leaderless. at the foot of the dark ascent turned at the sound of the tumbled past.

The marquis cried aloud " Halt, there ! "

| Some mischievous- lad outside rast a club 1 at the side -window of the hall, and the quartered aims of Ste. Luce de Rohan and their kin fell with sharp, jangling iiotes on the floor and on the heads of the crowd. " Halt, I say ! " The voice rang out of the gloom, strong and commanding. The marquis's sword was out. " Draw, my charming thief. ' Morituri te salutant ! ' " "What?" cried Francois — '"what is that?" -

".Nothing. We are about to die ; that is all. . Let us send some couriers to Hades. You should have gone away. Now you are about to die."

Francois drew his long rapier. He was strangely' elated. " We- are going to die, Toto/ 'The dog barked furiously. "Keep back ! " cried his master. Then he heard Pierre Despard's shrill voice cry out — '' Surrender, Citizen iSainte Luce, or if. will be worse for thce." The mob screamed — " Despard !" " Despard ! He was husthd forward, amid renewed shouts, cries, cr?.sh of falling ' vases, and jangling clatter of broken glass. The reluctant leader tried to keep near to the door. The mob was of other mind. He was thrust through the press to the foot of the stair, with cries of " Vive Despard ! Vive Despard ! " The people on the stair, fearing no resistance, were pushed up. shouting, "A bas less emigres ! " • ■."Now, 1 then," "cried the marquis. "Get back.- there,, dogs! " The two blades shot out. A man fell ; another, touched in the shoulder, screamed, and leaped over the balustrade ; the rest fell away, one man on another, with shrieks and groans. Francois caught a lad climbing on the outside of the gildid rail, and, with a laugh, threw him on the heads of those below. A joy unknown before possessed the thiei— tho lust of battle, the sense of competency. He took in the whole scene, heart, mind, and body alive as never before. "Sang de St. Denis! You are a gallant man. But we are lost. They will be on our backs in a moment; I hear them." Amid a terrible dm, stones and sticks iiew. A pebble struck the marquis in the face. " Dame ! " he cried, furious and darted down a step or two, the quick rapier mercilessly stabbing hfere and there. One madder than the rest set a torch to a priceless tape&try. It flared up, lighting the great space and the stair, and doing in the end no harm. Despard, terrified, was pushed forward to the edge of the fallen bodies on the staircase. " Surrender ! '' he called out in a shriek of fear, for here before him were the two men he most dreaded on earth. The noi:-e ■was indescribable. The butchei beat with the iron gauntlet on a shield beside him ; then he threw the steel glove at Francois. It flew high. There was a cry from the space behind. The little boy screamed shrilly, " They have killed my mamma ! "' Francois looked behind him. There was now light enough, and too much. He saw the woman lying, a convulsed, tumbled heap, on the stair. The marquis glanced behind him and lost his cool quietude. He lan down the stair, stabbing furiously. A half- j dozen dead oi wounded lay before him.^ In an iiihtant he was back again beside Fran- j cois. his face bleeding from the stones and sticks thrown at him. Francois was standing, tall and terrible in Ins anger, a pistol in his hand. I

" Shall I kill him, monsieur?" " By Heaven, yes ! " The pistol resounded terribly in the vaulted space, and the biute who had thrown the gauntlet, swaying, screamed shrilly, and tumbled — doad. "Give me your hand! " cried the marquis. •' Thank you, monsieur ; the devil hath a recruit. Now follow me. Let us kill and die To hell with this rabble ! "

"Wait," tried Francois, and, running, clown the steps, put out a, long arm <n-d caught Despard He hauled him savagely after him. calling out " Hold l.he stair a moment!" In an instant he was on the J landing above, with his prey. His sword j he let fall, and bet a pistol to Despard's herd. The terror of the trapped Jacobin was pitiful. He prayed for life. He would let them all go; he would— he would. Francois .swung him round to face the »ud , denly bilenred mob. " Keep still, or I will ' scatter your brains, fool! Tell them to go!

Tell them to go, of, sang de Dieu! Thou art a dead man 1 "

Pierre screamed out his orders — " Go — go — all of you. I order — go ! " The beasts he had trained and led were of no such mind. A man called out, "Die like a man, coward ! " A slonc or tveo flew. One struck him. The storm broke out anew.

" Say thy prayers. Thou art dead. Shall I kiil him, monsieur? " " No, no ; not that man — not him! "

" Mercy ! " screamed Despard. ' The deuce ! " ,la.ughed Francois. "It gets warm, monsieur. What to do with this coward? Keep still, insect!"

The mob had for a little time enough of these terrible swordsmen on the stair. It was awed, helpless. Below lay, head down or athwart, throe dead men, and certain wounded unable to crawl. The mob shrank away, and, with eyes red in the glare, swayed to and fro, indecisive, swearing. For a moment no more mis&iles were thrown. They waited the expected attack from the rear of the house. Pierre hung, a limp, inert thing, one arm on the balustrade, the thief's strong clutch on his neck, making his shivering bulk a shield against stick and stone. " It will soon be over," said the marquis, quietly. "There! I thought so." A dull roar was heard, and the crash of broken glass from somewhere behind them. This signal set loose the cowed mob. Clubs and stones flew. Something struck Pierre. He squealed , like a hurt animal, pain and terror in the childlike cry. More men crowded in, and the mass, with shout and cry, surged forward, breaking mirrors and rases, with frantic joy in the clatter of destruction.

"It is serious this time," cried the marquis. "Adieu, my brave fellow." Another tapestry flared up, slowly burning. "Let us take toll, Francois. Come!"

" Good, monsieur ! But why fool here " At this moment the crowd at the. door divided. A dozen soldiers broke in. and with them the man of the wart — Gregoire. "Dame!" cried Francois; "the Commissionei Gregoire ! The wart ! It is time to leave."

"Order — here." shouted Gregoire! "in the name of the law ! " The guyrd pushed in and made a lane. One or two persistent riQtcrs were colhred and passed out. A dead silence fell on all. The shreds of the tapestry dropped. The mob fell back. "Help. 1 help!" cried ' Pierre. " Morbleau ! dost thou want to die?" "It is over." said, the marquis. "I prcfci my peasants." - Gregoire called out. "Where is the mayor?" A reluctant' little man appeared.

" Commissioner, these men have, slain citizens," he said.

" Afld they did well. France wants order. Out with you all, or I shall fire on you. Citizens indeed ! See to that stuff burning/

The peasants. aAved. slunk away. Gregoire coolly mounted the stairs. " Hold ! " cried the marquis. "I arrest thee in the name of the law! lici'e is my order." The marquis took it. " The light is bud,'' he said : " but I see it is in good form. The law I obey — and muskets " ; and then, in a half-whisper to Francois — "Run! run! I will hold the stairs." Gregoire overheard him. ;' The citizen emigre ! I arrest him ! " and he went up a step." " Back ! "' cried the marquis, lunging fiercely at the too adventurous commissioner, who leaped down the stairway with the agility of alarm. " Fire ! " he cried.

'' Thanks, monsieur ; I can help you no more ! " cried Francois. As he spoke, he hurled the unhappy Despard on top of the commissioner. They foil in a heap. _ The thief, catching up his rapier, was off and away through the drawing room, seeing as he went the woman lying on tho floor, her forehead streaming -blood. He picked up his cloak and knapsack, and, followed by Toto, ran for his life down a long corridor to the left. At the end, he threw open a window and dropped, with the dog under his arm. upon the roof of a portico over a side door. No one was near. He called the dog, and fled through the gardens into the woods of the chase.