The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy (best historical biographies .txt) 📗

that he had been on the watch until milor was out of sight, and then slipped back in order to find me and Madame here alone.

He gave a glance at the child and another at the door of the inner attic, then he said in a loud voice:

“Yes, another twenty-four hours and my duties as doctor will cease and those of patriot will recommence. But Mme. la Marquise de Mortaine need no longer be in any anxiety about her son’s health, nor will Mme. la Guillotine be cheated of a pack of rebels.”

He laughed, and was on the point of turning on his heel when the door which gave on the smaller attic was opened and Mme. la Marquise appeared upon the threshold.

Monsieur, I had never seen her look more beautiful than she did now in her overwhelming grief. Her face was as pale as death, her eyes, large and dilated, were fixed upon the human monster who had found it in his heart to speak such cruel words. Clad in a miserable, threadbare gown, her rich brown hair brought to the top of her head like a crown, she looked more regal than any queen.

But proud as she was, monsieur, she yet knelt at the feet of that wretch. Yes, knelt, and embraced his knees and pleaded in such pitiable accents as would have melted the heart of a stone. She pleaded, monsieur⁠—ah, not for herself. She pleaded for her child and for me, her faithful servant, and she pleaded for the gallant gentleman who had risked his life for the sake of the child, who was nothing to him.

“Take me!” she said. “I come of a race that have always known how to die! But what harm has that innocent child done in this world? What harm has poor old Jean-Pierre done, and, oh⁠ ⁠… is the world so full of brave and noble men that the bravest of them all be so unjustly sent to death?”

Ah, monsieur, any man, save one of those abject products of that hideous Revolution, would have listened to such heartrending accents. But this man only laughed and turned on his heel without a word.

Shall I ever forget the day that went by? Mme. la Marquise was well-nigh prostrate with terror, and it was heartrending to watch the noble efforts which she made to amuse M. le Vicomte. The only gleams of sunshine which came to us out of our darkness were the brief appearances of milor. Outside we could hear the measured tramp of the guard that had been set there to keep us close prisoners. They were relieved every six hours, and, in fact, we were as much under arrest as if we were already incarcerated in one of the prisons of Lyons.

At about four o’clock in the afternoon milor came back to us after a brief absence. He stayed for a little while playing with M. le Vicomte. Just before leaving he took Madame’s hand in his and said very earnestly, and sinking his voice to the merest whisper:

“Tonight! Fear nothing! Be ready for anything! Remember that the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel have never failed to succour, and that I hereby pledge you mine honour that you and those you care for will be out of Lyons this night.”

He was gone, leaving us to marvel at his strange words. Mme. la Marquise after that was just like a person in a dream. She hardly spoke to me, and the only sound that passed her lips was a quaint little lullaby which she sang to M. le Vicomte ere he dropped off to sleep.

The hours went by leaden-footed. At every sound on the stairs Madame started like a frightened bird. That infamous Laporte usually paid his visits at about eight o’clock in the evening, and after it became quite dark, Madame sat at the tiny window, and I felt that she was counting the minutes which still lay between her and the dreaded presence of that awful man.

At a quarter before eight o’clock we heard the usual heavy footfall on the stairs. Madame started up as if she had been struck. She ran to the bed⁠—almost like one demented, and wrapping the one poor blanket round M. le Vicomte, she seized him in her arms. Outside we could hear Laporte’s raucous voice speaking to the guard. His usual query: “Is all well?” was answered by the brief: “All well, citizen.” Then he asked if the English spy were within, and the sentinel replied: “No, citizen, he went out at about five o’clock and has not come back since.”

“Not come back since five o’clock?” said Laporte with a loud curse. “Pardi! I trust that that fool Caudy has not allowed him to escape.”

“I saw Caudy about an hour ago, citizen,” said the man.

“Did he say anything about the Englishman then?”

It seemed to us, who were listening to this conversation with bated breath, that the man hesitated a moment ere he replied; then he spoke with obvious nervousness.

“As a matter of fact, citizen,” he said, “Caudy thought then that the Englishman was inside the house, whilst I was equally sure that I had seen him go downstairs an hour before.”

“A thousand devils!” cried Laporte with a savage oath, “if I find that you, citizen sergeant, or Caudy have blundered there will be trouble for you.”

To the accompaniment of a great deal more swearing he suddenly kicked open the door of our attic with his boot, and then came to a standstill on the threshold with his hands in the pockets of his breeches and his legs planted wide apart, face to face with Mme. la Marquise, who confronted him now, herself like a veritable tigress who is defending her young.

He gave a loud, mocking laugh.

“Ah, the aristos!” he cried, “waiting for that cursed Englishman, what? to drag you and your brat out of the claws of the human tiger.⁠ ⁠… Not so, my fine ci-devant Marquise. The brat is no longer sick⁠—he is well enough, anyhow, to breathe