The Chevalier De Maison Rovge.

Western Star, Issue 2218, 1 July 1898, Page 5

The Chevalier De Maison Rovge.

CHAPTER XL.—Continue. ** Yes*** “ But what it I estimate it at double its worth ?” “Ah, monsieur, there is nothing more precious than one’s neck I” “ Not yours.” “ Why not mine 7” “ At this moment, at least.’ “ What do you mean by that ?” , “ 1 mean to say your neck is not an old coin, seeing that if I. ( for example, were an agent of the Committee of Public .Safety, you would be guillotined to-morrow.” The turnkey suddenly turned round so brusquely that the dog barked at him. He* was pale as death. J( “Neither turn round nor turn pale, said the patriot, “ but on the contrary, finish your soup quietly. I am not an agent, friend. Let me oncij enter the conciergeyie, install me in your situation, give me the keys, and to-morrow I will count out to jou fifty thousand livres in gold.' “ Is this true, at least ?” “ Well, you have excellent security. My head.” The turnkey considered for some speouds. “Come,” said the patriot, who could not see him in the glass, “do not indulge in meditations of evil. If you denounce me, as you will only have done your duty, you will not receive a sou front the’Republic ; if you serve me, and. on the contrary, are deficient in the same duty, a-s it is unjust in this world to do anything for nothing, I will give you fifty thousand livres. “I understand (perfectly,” said the turnkey. “ I have all the inclination to do what you require, but; I fear the rejsmlts—” “ The results ! And what have you to fear ? I will not denounce you ;on the. contrary.” “ No doubt.” “ The day after I am duly installed, take a turn through the conciergerieg and I will count you twenty-five rouleaux each containing two thousand francs. Those you can easily dispose of in your two pockets. With the money, I will give you a. card to leave France. You go, and wherever you are you will be not only rich, but independent.” i “ Well, it is settled, monsieur ; let what will happen. lam a. poor devil whd never meddled in polities. France) has always got on very well without me, and will not perish through any fault of mine ; if you do a wicked action,, so much the worse for you.” “ At all events,” said the patriot, “ I •think I shall never do worse than they are doing at this moment.” “ Monsieur,, permit me to decline passing an opinion upon the politics of the National Convention.”

“ You. are a pattern of philosophy null carelessness. When, however, you will present me to Father Richard ?” “ Thin evening, if you please.” “ Yes. certainly ; but who am I ?” ■“ My cousin Murdoch." " Murdoch lot it be. then; th» namei i>le a.ses me. What trade ?” “ A breeches-maker.” “ Either breechefr-raaker or tanner. I have that at ray fingers’ ends.” “ Are you a tanner 7” “ Ii could be one.” “ True.” “ Att what time will you present me 7” “ In half an hour, if you like.” “At nine o’clock, then.” When l shall I have’the money?” «rp. v "orrow.” .. v be enormously rich.” or 11 v circumstances.” “ What does it - , rv(J it nW ny lo possess moue.y ana . to run the risk oi being gruat surely the ci-devants li'ust b*= blockheads.” “ What would you have ? The sansculottes have too much sense to leave any for others.” “Hush! here is my wine.” “ This evening, in front of the conciergcrie.” “ Yes.” The (patriot paid his bill and went out. At the door was heard the stentorian) voice : “Come, citoyenne, quick! the ribs of, pork and the drinking horn, my cousin Gracchus, is dying oi hunger.” “ is a good fellow,” said the turnkey, tasting tlie wine poured out for him by the cabaretiure, and regarding her tenderly.

CHAPTER XLT. THE REGISTRAR OF THE MINISTER OF WAR. The patriot left, but he hah not prone tar. Through the curtained window he kepti watch over the turnkey to discov/r if he entered into conversation with any of the agents of the Republican policfp one of the beat that ever existed, sincq one-half of the society closely rvatehocl the other, less from the grout glory 06 government than for the still greater ecciirity of their heads. But nothing occurred to excite the patriot’s fears. At a few minutes before nine the turnkey rose, pinched the chin of the hostess, and wont out. The patriot rejoined him at the quay of the couciergeauc, find they entered the prison together. On the same evening the affair was concluded, and Father Richard accepted Murdoch as a substitute for Gracchus. Two hours before this arrangement took place, another scene had been enacted in a different part of the prison, which, although apparently of no interest, was possessed of vital importance to the principal personages of this history. The registrar of (the coueiergerie, fatigued with his day’s labor, was folding up his papers, and preparing to leave, when a man, conducted by the Citoyenne Kichard.,.presented himself in his office. “Citizen Registrar.” said lie. “here is your fellow-registrar of the minister of war, who conies 011 the part of the citizen minister to hasten some military matters.”

“ Ah.) citizen,” said the registrar, “you are' too late ; I have just put away all my papers.” “Dear brother, pardon me,” said the newcomer;. “ but we are really so overwhelmed with business that even running does not make up for lost moments, and our. lost moments are those occupied brothers in eating and sleeping.” “That alters the case, my dear fellow so make haste, for, as you observe, it is near supper time, and I am very hungry. Have you your documents ?” “Here they are,” sank the registrar of the minister of war. exhibiting a portfolio of papers, which his brother, busy as he was, scrutinized with the strictest attention.! “ Oh. they are alt right.” said Richard’s wife, “and my husband has already thoroughly inspected them.” “ Never mind, never nr ml.” said the registrar, continuing hi ■ examination. The registrar remained like a man patiently awaiting the accomplishment j of( all dun formalities. “ Perfectly cor- | r«-et,” said the registrar of the conciergerie, “and you can now coiiunencij j an soon as you please. Have you many entries to make?” “A hundred. That will occupy you for several days. Therefore, dear brother, 1 witfh to form a email estab-

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liHlunent near you ; that is to say. if you will permit me.” “ How am I to understand you ?” spill the registrar of the eouciergerie, “ I> will explain it to you) fully it you will join at supper this evening. Yon say you arc hungry ?” “I' do not deny it.” „ “ Well, you shall see my wife, who is a good housekeeper, and you know me for a good companion." “ Ma foi ! ves.; you strike me as such, and my dear brother; yet, notwith* standing—” , ‘•Oli! come without ceremony, and partake of some oysters that I will purchase as I pass La Place du Ghalelet, a jiouict, of our own roasting, ami a few dishes which Madame Durand excels in.” “ You tempt me, ray brother,” said the registrar of the ponciergefie, astonished at the bill of fare, to which he was totally unaccustomed as a registrar paid by the Revolutionary Tribunal at the rate of ten livres, in assignates, equal to two francs, at the utmost. “ Then yon (will accept my invitation ?” “ Yee. willingly.” “In that case, to work to-morrow till this evening we part.” “Now we must part." “ You will come early ?” “ In au instant, only I must first inform the gendurmes who guard the Austrian.” “ Why must you tell them ?” “So that when they know I am absent. and that there is no one at the wicket, they may become suspicions of every noise.” “Ah! that ie a very wise precaution. faith!” “ You understand now ?” “ Perfectly.” “ Go then.” The registrar of the eouciergerie proceeded hastily to the wicket, which was opened by one of the gendarmes. “ Who is there ?" “I, the registrar, you know. I am going, out. Ron soir. Citizen Gracchus. “ ilou soir, Citizen Registrar, and the wicket; was shut. The registrar of the minister of war hud paid the gratest attention to this scene,, and while the door of the queen's prison' remained opened, his looks rapidlyi penetrated to the first compartment, where, seeing the other gendarme, Duchesne, seated at 'table, he felt perfectly assured the queen had only two guards, and when the registrar of the eouciergerie turned round, hie face had resumed its expression of perfect stolid indifference. As they went out of the eouciergerie two •men entered. They were 1 the Citizen Gracchus and his couisu Murdoch. The cousin Murdoch and the registrar of the minister of war, each by a simultaneous movement arising from the same feeling, appeared to shrink, the one at the eight of the hairy bonnet, the other from the broadbrimmed: hat pulled down over his eyes. “ Who are these men ?” asked the registrar* of the minister of war. “ I only know one of them—it is a turnkey, named Gracchus.” “Ah’" said the other, with affected indifference, “do the turnkeys then go out of the eouciergerie ?”

“ They have their day.” The investigation did not proceed any further, and the new friends took the road to the Pont an Change. At the corner) of the Place dn Chatfdet, the registrary. of the minister of w)ir. according to agreement, (purchased some oysters, and continued his way by the Quay do Greve. The dwelling of this individual was simple. The Citizen Durand inhabited three rooms on La Placel de Greve, in a house, without any porter. Each tenant had a key of the door) in the passage, and it was agregd that if any one had omitted to take his key, he should intimate the same by one, two or three raps with the knocker, according to the story he inhabited. and any one who was waiting ’nd heard the signal, then descended opened the door; but the Citizen t lls ' l Raving provided himself with Durand, „ ■ uo t all y occasion to knock, his key, ban two flights of stairs, '1 hey ascended "'urand drew another when the Citizen o all ,i they both key from his pocket, the palace entered. The registrar .. |,; rt taste, found his friend’s wife much deed, an Sin' was a charming woman: iu- - expression of profound melancholy • it fused over her compliance, stamped with, a ij expression of deolp interest. It

h.-is always been allowed that sadness is seductive in women, especially pretty

women. It attracts all men, without exception, even turnkeys, and turnkeys are but men. after all. and what man possessed with natural Ifeoling would not wish to console a pretty woman in affliction,! ami as the Citizen Dorut remarks,, “To change the pale tint, of the white rose to a roseate hue !” The two registrars did full justice to their excellent (supper; it was only Mine. Durand who was eating nothing. In the meantime, conversation proceeded. The registrar inquired of his brother registrar;’ (with a curiosity the more remarkable in these days, when such frightful (Iranian were daily enacted) concerning the customs of Paris, the days of judgment ami the means of survcfil* lance. v The registrar of the palace, delighted at being listened to with •so much deference, replied with the greatest complaisance, spoke of the manners of jailers, of Fonqnier Tinville, and lastly of the Citoyen Sanson, the principal actor in the tragedy daily performed upon) the Place do la Revolution. Then, in his!turn, addressing his colleagues and host.) he made various inquiries concerning his vocation and ministry. “Oh!” said Durand, “I am not so wo 11 informed as yourself, being a person of much less importance, seeing that I am rather secretary to the registrar! than the incumbent of the places 1 do tiu* work of the regi.stra r-in-chicif, —an obscure employment for me, at least, but highly profitable to them; but that is the way with all these revolutionary commissioners. Heavetu and earth may perhaps change on a day, but these things, never.” “ Well.l I will assist you,, citizen,” said the registrar of the palace, .charmed ! with the excellence of his host’s wine, and. above all, with the beaux yens of Mine. Durand, “ Thanks,” paid b<- to whom this offer bad been made ; “ anything to vary the habits and locality in some distraction to a poor employe. f wish to hasten my work at the coneiergt'rie, rather than to procrastinate it. and therefore thought if I might every day bring Madame Durand with me to the office, wht) is very dull here--”

“I do not see any inconvenietice in that.” said the registrar of the palneoj, delighted tvith the prospect of the charming' recreation afforded him by his colleague.! “She can dictate the papers.” said the Citizen Durand, “and occasionally, when onl- work is finished, if you have not found this evening unpleasant, you can return, and spend an hour of two with us.” ' “ Yes, but not too often.” replied the registrar of the palace, foppishly, “for I declare I shall be scolded if my visists I declare I !>-a.ll be scolded if my visits house in La Rue du Petit Muse.” “ Well, here is some one who will sets tpy nil those affairs. Is it not so, cherei amie ?”

Mmc. Durand, pale and melancholy, ns usual, raised her eyes toward lire husband. and replied : “ What you wish shall he done. Eleven o’clock struck, announcing it was time to retire. The registrar of the palace rose, and took leave of his two friends, expressing the great pleasure he felt in making their acquaintance. The Citizen Durand conducted Ins friend to the landing, then re-entered the apartment. “ Go, Genevieve, go to bed, said he. The young woman made no reply, but rose directly, took her lamp, and withdrew to the bedroom on the right. Durand, or. rather. Dixmer. watched her departure, remained stationary for a moment! with au expression of deep grief depicted upon Ids countenance, then passed into his own chamber on the opposite side.

CHAPTER XLII. THU TWO nn.t.KTS. From this time the registrar of the minister of war worked every evening most indefatigably in his colleagues office, while Mine. Durand dictated from the registers previously prepared, which Durand copied with avidity. Durand strictly examined everything, while appearing to notice nothing. He had remarked that every evening, at nine o'clock, a basket of provisions, carried by, either Richard or Ids wife, was placed at the door. The instant the registrar said to the gendarmes, “ 1 am going, citizen." one of the guards, either Gilbert or Duch-sue, came out. took the basket, and carried it to Marie Antoinette. During three consecutive evenings, when Durand had remained rather late at his post, the basket was left untouched ; since it was only when opening the door to say adieu to the registrar that the gendarme took in the basket containing the provisions, which, n quarter of an hour afterward, was returned emptv to the same place by one of the two guards. On the evening o! the fourth day it was the beginning of October, when, after the ordinary sitting, the registrar of the palace had withdrawn, and Durand, or, rather, Dixmer. remained alone with hie wife, Is- laid down his pen, looked around and listened, as if his very life was at stake; he then rose hastily, and running toward! the door of the wicket, raised the cloth which covered the contents of the basket, and in the new bread destined for the prisoner concealed a small silver purse. Pule and trembling with emotion, he quickly regained his seat, and sunk down- overpowered, placing one hand on his forehead, /the other on his heart. Genevieve regarded him in silence, indeed. since the day her husband had taken her from Maurice, she had never spoken till he addressed her first. But tbis> time she broke the silence. “ f. s it to he this evening ?” she inquired. . , “No; to-morrow, replied Dixmer. He then rose, and having again looked aud listened, closed the registers, and, approaching the wicket, knocked at the door. “What?” said Gilbert. “Citizen,” said he, “I am iroine.”

CONCEALED A SMART, SILVER FTJRSB. ' wen,' 1 ’ hrud’ the gendarme, from the end of the coll, “ good-night.” “ Good-night, Citizen Gilbert.” Durand; heard the grinding of the bolt, and knew the gendarme was opening the door. He went out.

In the passage loading to the apartment of Father Richard by the court be rushed against a turnkey dressed in a bear-skin bonnet and dangling a heavy bunch of keys. Dixmcr was much alarmed. Perhaps this man, brutal as the generality of his species, was about to interrogate him, to watch him. and perhaps finally to recognize him. He drew life hat over his eyes, while Genevieve concealed herself, as she best could, in the folds of her cloak. But he was mistaken. “Pardon!” said the turnkey only, although he was the man who had been neurly overt brown. Dixmcr trembled at the sound of that sweet, soft voice. But the turnkey was doubtless pressed for time; he glided into the 'passage, opened Richards door, and disappeared. Diviner continued his road, leading Genevieve. “ It is strange,” said he, when outside. and the gate had closed behind • -in, and the freshening breeze bad t 1 his fevered brow. c.noiKv. . qj s V( . r y strange!” mur- " Hii. j., -.. VOi mured HenoVjv , they would have com--111 former time.. other the cause of implicated to each Dixmcr now coutheir astonishment, but ■ own breast, fined his thoughts to hit, Miieinatiou, and combated them as an ha., -'lf, on while Genevieve contented here*. Mige, turning the angle of the Pont an (V d by easting a last look at the dark gloomy palace, 'where something like tin’ phantom of a lost friend awoke iu her memory many sweet and bitter remembrances. Thus they both reached La Greve without having exchanged a. single, word. During this time the gendarme Gilbert had brought in the basket It Contained some fruit, a cold chicken, a bottle of white wine, a carafe, of water, and half a loaf. Having first raised the napkin, and ascertained that everything was arranged us usual, he opened, the screen. “Citoyenne,” said he, “hero is your Slipper.” Mario Antoinette divided the bread, but as her fingers pressed it, they came in contact with the silver. In an instant | she comprehended the bread contained : something unusual. When she looked j around her, the guard had disappeared. 1 The queen remained a moment iniiuov- | able, calculating his retiring footstejis. | When she felt certain he. was seated by his comrade, and not till then, she drew the purse from its place of concealment. It contained a billet, which she opened, and read as follows ; “ Madame,—Be ready to-morrow at the hour when yon receive this billet, as to-morrow at this hour a female will be introduced into your majesty’s prison. This female will exchange dresses with yon, and you will then quit the conciergorie on the arm of one of your most devoted servants. Do not be alarmed at any noise that passes in the first compartment ; let neither cries nor groans deter yon, only attire yourself quickly in the dress and mantle of the female who comes to take your majesty's place.” “ 'This is devotion !” murmured the queen. “ Thank God, I am not, as it is said, an object of execration to all.” She then reread the billet, when the second part attracted her attention ; Let neither cries nor groans deter you.” “Ob ! that means they will sacrifice) my two guards. Poor men ! who have evinced so inncVi kindness and pity toward me! Oh! never —never!” She tore off part of the letter, and, having no pen or ink, pricked on thij paper the following words : “ r neither can nor will accept the sacrifice of any ones life in exchange for my own. M. \ She then replaced the paper in the liiir.se, which she concealed in the other half of the broken bread. This onera-