The Triumph of the Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy (the little red hen read aloud .txt) 📗

to any woman. Great therefore was Theresia’s triumph. Visions of that grandeur which she had always coveted and to which she had always felt herself predestined, danced before her eyes; and remembering Chauvelin’s prophecies and Mother Théot’s incantations, she allowed the dream-picture of the magnificent English milor to fade slowly from her ken, bidding it a reluctant adieu.

Though in her heart she still prayed for his deliverance⁠—and did it with a passionate earnestness⁠—some impish demon would hover at her elbow and repeat in her unwilling ear Chauvelin’s inspired words: “Bring the Scarlet Pimpernel to his knees at the chariot-wheel of Robespierre, and the crown of the Bourbons will be yours for the asking.” And if, when she thought of that splendid head falling under the guillotine, a pang of remorse and regret shot through her heart, she turned with a seductive smile to the only man who could place that crown at her feet. His popularity was still at its zenith. Tonight, whenever the audience caught sigh of him in the Cabarrus’ box, a wild cheer rang out from gallery to pit of the house. Then Theresia would lean over to him and whisper insinuatingly:

“You can do anything with that crowd, citizen! You hold the people by the magnetism of your presence and of your voice. There is no height to which you cannot aspire.”

“The greater the height,” he murmured moodily, “the dizzier the fall⁠ ⁠…”

“ ’Tis on the summit you should gaze,” she retorted; “not on the abyss below.”

“I prefer to gaze into the loveliest eyes in Paris,” he replied with a clumsy attempt at gallantry; “and remain blind to the summits as well as to the depths.”

She tapped her daintily shod foot against the ground and gave an impatient little sigh. It seemed as if at every turn of fortune she was confronted with pusillanimity and indecision. Tallien fawning on Robespierre; Robespierre afraid of Tallien; Chauvelin a prey to nerves. How different to them all was that cool, self-possessed Englishman with the easy good-humour and splendid self-assurance!

“I would make you Queen of France in all but name!” He said this as easily, as unconcernedly as if he were promising an invitation to a rout.

When, a moment or two later, Robespierre took leave of her and she was left for a while alone with her thoughts, Theresia no longer tried to brush away from her mental vision the picture on which her mind loved to dwell. The tall, magnificent figure; the lazy, laughing eyes; the slender hand that looked so firm and strong amidst the billows of exquisite lace.

Ah, well! The dream was over! It would never come again. He himself had wakened her; he himself had cast the die which must end his splendid life, even at the hour when love and fortune smiled at him through the lips and eyes of beautiful Cabarrus.

Fate, in the guise of the one man she could have loved, was throwing Theresia into the arms of Robespierre.

III

The next moment she was rudely awakened from her dreams. The door of her box was torn open by a violent hand, and turning, she saw Bertrand Moncrif, hatless, with hair dishevelled, clothes dripping and mud-stained, and linen soaked through. She was only just in time to arrest with a peremptory gesture the cry which was obviously hovering on his lips.

“Hush⁠—sh⁠—sh!” came at once from every portion of the audience, angered by this disturbing noise.

Tallien jumped to his feet.

“What is it?” he demanded in a quick whisper.

“A perquisition,” Moncrif replied hurriedly, “in the house of the citoyenne!”

“Impossible!” she broke in harshly.

“Hush!⁠ ⁠… Silence!” the audience muttered audibly.

“I come from there,” Moncrif murmured. “I have seen⁠ ⁠… heard⁠ ⁠…”

“Come outside,” Theresia interjected. “We cannot talk here.”

She led the way out, and Tallien and Moncrif followed.

The corridor fortunately was deserted. Only a couple of ouvreuses stood gossiping in a corner. Theresia, white to the lips⁠—but more from anger than fear⁠—dragged Moncrif with her to the foyer. Here there was no one.

“Now, tell me!” she commanded.

Bertrand passed his trembling hand through his soaking hair. His clothes were wet through. He was shaking from head to foot and appeared to have run till now he could scarcely stand.

“Tell me!” Theresia reiterated impatiently.

Tallien stood by, half paralysed with terror. He did not question the younger man, but gazed on him with compelling, horror-filled eyes, as if he would wrench the words out of him before they reached his throat.

“I was in the Rue Villedot,” Moncrif stammered breathlessly at last, “when the storm broke. I sough shelter under the portico of a house opposite the citoyenne’s lodgings⁠ ⁠… I was there a long time. Then the storm subsided⁠ ⁠… Men in uniform came along⁠ ⁠… They were soldiers of the National Guard⁠ ⁠… I could see that, though the street was pitch-dark⁠ ⁠… They passed quite close to me⁠ ⁠… They were talking of the citoyenne⁠ ⁠… Then they crossed over to her lodgings⁠ ⁠… I saw them enter the house⁠ ⁠… I saw citizen Chauvelin in the doorway⁠ ⁠… He chided them for being late⁠ ⁠… There was a captain, and there were six soldiers, and that asthmatic coalheaver was with them.”

“What!” Theresia exclaimed. “Rateau?”

“What in Satan’s name does it all mean?” Tallien exclaimed with a savage curse.

“They went into the house,” Moncrif went on, his voice rasping through his parched throat. “I followed at a little distance, to make quite sure before I came to warn you. Fortunately I knew where you were⁠ ⁠… fortunately I always know⁠ ⁠…”

“You are sure they went up to my rooms?” Theresia broke in quickly.

“Yes. Two minutes later I saw a light in your apartment.”

She turned abruptly to Tallien.

“My cloak!” she commanded. “I left it in the box.”

He tried to protest.

“I am going,” she rejoined firmly. “This is some ghastly mistake, for which that fiend Chauvelin shall answer with his life. My cloak!”

It was Bertrand who went back for the cloak and wrapped her in it. He knew⁠—none better⁠—that if his divinity desired to go, no power on earth would