CHILDREN OF THE REVOLUTION.

Waikato Times, Volume 108, Issue 18159, 25 October 1930, Page 16 (Supplement)

CHILDREN OF THE REVOLUTION.

TT was the , year 1792, one*, of the awful years of the French Revolution, when the people of France rose avainst their King and Queen and the aristocracy, and sent them to their deaths at the guillotine. During several months many of the noble families of France had fallen beneath -the dreaded guillotine around which sat the horrible peasant women with swarthy faces and untidy rat’s-tail hair, shouting loudly and knitting, while they counted the number of people going to their deaths. In a brightly-furnished room of a large house in the Rue de Beau in Paris, sat two children. They were Rosamund and John, the 12-year-old twin children of the Marquis de St. Pierre, a member of one of the oldest and noblest'families families of France, who, with his beautiful English wife, had been snatched from a luxurious home and loving children to be beheaded at the guillotine, a few hours before. “John”—Rosamund raised her tear-stained face, and quietly whispered her.brother’s name—“will they kill our mother?” John rose from his chair and crossed the room to where his sister was sitting. “I don’t suppose so, although they did kill the Queen. But I’ll ask Morris if he can help.”.

“I’m sure—” But Rosamund’s sentence was never finished,'for at that moment there was a loud knock on the door that resounded again and again through the great old hall. “Open, in the name of the Republic!” came'a gruff, angry shout from without.

“Soldiers I” gasped John, jumping “Quick, Rosamund, the secret room! I’ll open the door to them! If they take me, ask Morrs to help; he will'. Quick!” as he saw his sister hesitate. “It will be all right. They won’t hurt me.”

Rosamund touched a panel by the side of the fireplace, and a hidden door swung open. Quickly she sprang into the small ‘recess beyond, and‘closed ll.ie door behind. her.>.. .■ . ... ; :

John walked firmly into the hail, h’ii not without a quaking hear.t, and 'mined back the heavy bolts of the rnnccsive oak. door.

The soldiers were heating loudly on ihe door with their fists, and shoutng—

“Oneni Open I . In'the name of the Republic, open!” With a loud cry, they rushed in th.e moment John opened the door. So wild were they that John was knocked down immediately, and would , have been trampled to de.ath If the soldier in charge, ■ Duplex'by name, had not shouted—- •" ■

“Mind, you pushing elephants! Can’t you see you’ve knocked the boy down. You’ll kill him. We want him alive! Well, get out of the way.” The soldiers pressed back. John was up in a second. : ; “I’m the’master of this house, now you’ve killed my father. What do you want?” he asked, boldly, standing firmly and upright. “Listen to him!” cried Duplex; “the swaggering rascal. Now stop thatl You’re not the master-here. I am, and answer this question”—he gave John a sharp box on the ears—“where is your sister? Where have you •hidden her?”

“I shall not tell you," replied John, smarting under the sharp blow which Duplex had given him. “You may search the house twenty times, or even twenty hundred times, but you will not find her!”

Duplex turned to his men. “Search the house, while I take the rascaL Report when you return. Come on, boy”—and he opened the door.

A horse was standing outside. "■Mount her," he said roughly toJohn, who obeyed slowly. • Duplex got on behind. As they galloped off towards the prison, John took one last look at his home, and deeply sighed. The room, one of many in the North Prison, was crowded, and the air was stifling. It was the trial of John St. Pierre.

About in the middle of the rough and shouting crowd sat a peasant-girl. No one would recognise her as Rosamund St. Pierre. She sat, ashen pale, with her 'eyes on the door through which her brother would enter. She wondered if Morris was succeeding in his work; whether he would be in time to rescue John from the cruel clutches of the Republic. On a raised platform sat six ugly, swarthy members of the Republic, who Incuded Duplex and Guillame Beauvais, the man who would pronounce the sentence.

His eyes gleamed as he regarded the crowd arrayed in front of him. “They’ll be pleased when I pronounce : the sentence.. Ah, that- they will!” and he laughed to himself. The babbie of -voices, which had been very load and coarse, ceased suddenly What was the cause of it? Why should two hundred citizens cease talking at the same time?

Rosamund knew why. Follow her eyes, and you will see that John St. Pierre has entered the room, led by a soldier of the Republic. B.eauvais coughed. “John St. Pierre," he said, in a stern, gruff voice, “I charge you with intentionally disposing of your sister when I sent' a party of soldiers of the Republic, under Duplex, to search your father’s house, and to bring you both, to me. Have you anything to say for yourself?" Rosamund shivered at the words of Beauvais, but saw with pride her brother draw himself up to his full height, and heard him say firmly—“l have nothing to say in my defence.” Beauvais sneered.

“I am very glad. John St. Pierre, you will pay for your behaviour. Your father has died at the guillotine, and your accursed Engish mother will follow him in a few days. Now, clti-

zens of Paris”—he turned to the crowd —“do you aaree that this traitor shall visit' the guillotine?” “Ay, ay!” cried the crowd, “send him to the guillotine!” , John , paled as he heard the sentence, and cast, his eyes about the crowd. He saw the upturned, smiling face of a peasant-girl looking at him. As if by instinct, he realised the truth. It was' the face of his sister, reassuring him. He saw her look hastily at the exit. “Take the boy—” began Beauvais, to a soldier standing near, when a man, dressed in the ordinary people’s ragged clothes, rushed into the room. “Madame St. Pierre has escaped from the prison,” he cried. “Quick! She’s escaped!” In a moment the crowd were surging out at the exit, and thronging towards the West Prison. Beauvais’ face grey angry as he realised the truth. He turned to where .John St. Pierre had been standing. "Do you know—?” But the boy was gone. John had been snatched from the platform by the bringer of the news tba't had startled the whole house, and placed in a rickety cart outside, among a pile of sacks. “Stay there, master,” said the man, whose voice John recognised as Morris’. As he waited, John tried to piece together the proceedings that had just taken place, but he was too tired to think, and just lay back on the sacks. He was roused, by the feeling that someone had sat down beside him. He opened his eyes and saw his sister. “Rosamund I” he whispered, “has mother really escaped?" “Yes, John! Morris rescued here, and then pretended she had escaped by herself, so as to be able to rescue you. But try to go to sleep, you’re worn out.” “Not till I’ve seen mother. Is she coming on this cart? Where is she row?” - “Morris has gone to fetch her," replied Rosamund. . “Ah! Here she is.” A woman, dressed as a .peasant, slowly mounted the cart and sat down on the sacks. “•Mother!” whispered John. She heard, and turned. “My chidren,” she almost cried, and sank down besde them. Morris took the reins, and they were off. ■ Stopping occasionally at wayside inns, for food and drink, they at last j reached the coast, where they found a j trading ship awaiting them. The cap- I tain, who was a friend of Morris, wel- j corned them, and apologsed that his ship was not a little more comfort- j able. . i

“That is quite' all right, Captain Danton,” said Madame St. Pierre. “We are used to rough beds and surroundings now." They bad good-bye to Morris, who said he would point them soon, and the ship set out for England, the land of liberty.

England was reached in safety, and they went to live in a small house in the country. The twins were never tired of hearing the story how Morris became prison-guard for three days, and so rescued their mother from a horrible death, while the public were at John’s trial. Madame St. Pierre liked to hear of John’s brave stand against the soldiers in the hall of their old home; how he was taken and thrust into prison for two days. In the meantime, Rosamond and Morris had planned that Morris should, become prison-guard, and Rosamund should borrow some old peasants’ clothes from an old woman who lived a few streets from the Rue de Beau; how Rosamund had attended the trial, and how Morris had rushed into the prison-room and, in the scramble that followed, snatched John from beneath Beauvais’ and Duplex’s noses. “You are brave children," said Madame St. Pierre, “and I am proud of you. And Morris is a brave lad, too." Morris joined them in three months’ time, and they lived happily, their only grief being he absence of their noble and dearly-loved father.