Читать книгу The Last Cavalier: Being the Adventures of Count Sainte-Hermine in the Age of Napoleon - Александр Дюма, Alexandre Dumas - Страница 17

The father

The next day, as three o’clock was striking on the pavilion clock, Hector de Sainte-Hermine knocked at the door of the Hôtel de Sourdis, whose lovely terrace, covered with orange trees and rose laurels, looked out over the Quai Voltaire. The door opened onto the Rue de Beaune. It was the great door, the door of honor. Another, smaller door, nearly invisible as it was painted the color of the wall, opened out onto the quay.

The great door opened. The Swiss guard asked for the visitor’s name and allowed him to pass. A valet, alerted no doubt by Madame de Sourdis, was waiting in the antechamber. “Madame,” he said, “is not receiving today. But Mademoiselle is in the garden, and she offers her mother’s excuses to Monsieur le Comte.”

The count followed the valet to the garden gate. “Follow this path,” the valet told him. “Mademoiselle is at the other end, under the jasmine arbor.”

And indeed, beneath the rays of a lovely March sun, Claire, wrapped in an ermine cloak, seemed to be a bloom, like one of those first spring flowers we call snowdrops because they return so early. Spread out under her feet lay a thick Smyrna carpet to protect her light blue velvet slippers from the cold ground. When she noticed Sainte-Hermine, although she had been expecting him and had heard the clock strike three, her cheeks turned pink and hid for an instant how marvelously lily-white they were. She rose with a smile illuminating her face.

Sainte-Hermine walked faster, and when he drew near, she pointed to where her mother was sitting at one of the drawing-room windows overlooking the garden. From there she could keep the two young people in sight, although she would not be able to hear a word they were saying. Sainte-Hermine bowed deeply to her, to show her both his thanks and his respect.

Claire offered him a chair, and once he was seated, he spoke: “I shall not, mademoiselle, try to make you understand how happy I am to be able to talk freely alone with you for a moment. For a year I’ve been awaiting this moment, granted to me now by Heaven’s goodness, and upon it will depend the fortune or the misfortune of my entire life, although I’ve only been able truly to harbor such a hope for the last three days. You were kind enough to tell me at the ball that you noticed the anxiety I seemed to experience in your presence, as well as the pain and the joy you suspected were in my heart. I am going to tell you the cause of my anxieties, perhaps at greater length than necessary, but I cannot expect you to understand me unless I present you all the necessary details.”

“Speak, monsieur,” said Claire. “Anything coming from you, you may be sure, will be worthy of my interest.”

“We are—or rather, since I’m the only member of my family left, I should say, I am—from a noble family in the Juras. My father, a high-ranking officer under Louis XVI, was among those defending him on August 10. Only, instead of fleeing like all the princes and courtiers, he stayed, and even when the king was dead, he hoped that all was not lost and that they would be able somehow to help the queen escape from the Temple. To that end, he gathered together a large sum of money. Among the municipal guards he found a young man from the South—his name was Toulan—who had fallen in love with the queen and had pledged her his heart. My father resolved to join forces with Toulan, or rather to use his position as a guard in the Temple, to save the prisoner.

“Then my oldest brother Léon de Sainte-Hermine, who was growing tired of being no use to the cause whose religion he had long espoused, solicited my father’s permission to leave France and serve in Condé’s army. Once he received that permission, he went directly to join the prince.

“Meanwhile, my father made arrangements with Toulan. At that time, a large number of people, including several of the queen’s devoted servants, were still asking the municipal guards, on whom such favors depended, if they could see her. So, the guards would arrange for the queen’s friends to be in the path their noble prisoner would follow when she went down into the garden to get some fresh air, as she did twice a day. Sometimes, if the guard looked the other way, it was possible for the queen’s old devotées to exchange a word with her or even to slip her a note. It is true that they were risking their necks, but there are times when one’s neck counts for little.

“Because Toulan had some obligation to my father and his gratitude to him thus coincided with his love for the queen, he agreed to allow my father and mother into the Temple. On the pretext of their wish to see the queen, my father and mother, dressed like rich Jura peasants, would come to the Temple, put on a Besançon accent, and ask for Monsieur Toulan. He, in turn, would place them somewhere on the queen’s path.

“Among the prisoners in the Temple and the Royalists there was a whole system of signals that they employed to communicate as surely as did ships on the sea. On the day of my father and mother’s visit, as the queen was leaving her room, she found a wisp of straw leaning up against the wall, which meant: ‘Stay alert, someone is looking out for you.’ The queen had not immediately seen the straw; it was Madame Elisabeth, less preoccupied than she, who called it to the attention of her sister-in-law.

“As soon as the two prisoners stepped into the garden, they noticed that Toulan was on duty. The queen counted on the poor young man’s love for her. She had bound him to her destiny with six words. On the sure chance that she’d see him one day on duty, she had written on a piece of paper that she always carried next to her bosom: Ama poco che teme la morte! (He who fears death loves little!) And one day she did see him, and she had slipped him the note. Even before he had read it, Toulan’s heart had leaped with joy. And after he’d read it, he had vowed that from that that day forward he was going to prove to the queen that he had no fear of death.

“He placed my father and mother in the tower staircase so that the queen would hardly be able to pass without touching them. My mother was holding a lovely bouquet of carnations, and when the queen saw them, she cried out, ‘Oh, what lovely flowers, and how sweet they smell!’ My mother pulled out the most beautiful carnation and held it out to the queen, who looked inquiringly at Toulan for permission to accept it. Toulan nodded almost imperceptibly.

“In ordinary circumstances, everything that was transpiring would have been quite unremarkable. But not in those extraordinary days when danger lay only a breath away. The queen suspected that a note might be hidden in the carnation’s calyx, and she quickly slipped the flower into the bodice of her dress. My mother the Comtesse de Sainte-Hermine held up well under the pressure, although during the exchange, my father told us, her face went paler and more sallow than the tower walls.

“The queen had the courage not to cut short at all the time she usually spent walking in the garden and returned to her quarters at the usual hour. However, as soon as she was once again alone with the Madames Elisabeth and Royale, she pulled the flower from her bodice. And in fact, the calyx did contain a note written on silk paper in a tiny hand. It offered this consolation:

Day after tomorrow, on Wednesday, ask to go down to the garden. They will allow you to do so with no difficulty, since orders have been given to allow you this favor whenever you ask. After walking around the garden three or four times, pretend to be tired. Go over to the canteen in the middle of the garden and ask Madame Plumeau if you can sit down.

It is important for you to ask permission at exactly eleven o’clock in the morning so that your liberators can coordinate their movements with your own.

Then, after a moment, pretend to be even weaker, and faint. The doors will be closed while help is summoned, and you will be alone with Madame Elisabeth and Madame Royale. Immediately the trapdoor to the cellar will open. Hurry down through the opening with your sister and daughter, and all three of you will be saved.

“Three factors conjoined to instill confidence in the three prisoners: Toulan’s presence, the wisp of straw standing against the wall in the corridor, and the note’s precise details. Besides, what risk was there in trying? Their torture could not be greater than it was already. So they agreed. They would do exactly what the note instructed.

“Two days later, on Wednesday, at nine in the morning, the queen, behind the curtains of her bed, reread the note my mother had hidden in the carnation and assured herself that she’d not deviate from its instructions. Then, after tearing it up into tiny pieces, she went into Madame Royale’s room.

“Returning almost immediately, she called to the guards on duty. She had to call twice before they answered, as they were having breakfast, but finally one of them appeared at the door. ‘What do you want, Citizeness?’ he asked her.

“Marie-Antoinette explained that Madame Royale was ill from lack of exercise, because she went out only at noon, when the sun was too hot for her to walk through the garden. So the queen was asking permission to change the time she and Madames Royale and Elisabeth walked from noon until two o’clock to ten until noon. Would the guard take her request to General Santerre, upon whom such permission depended, she asked, then added that she would be deeply grateful to him.

“The queen had spoken her gratitude with such grace and charm that the guard was smitten, and, lifting his red bonnet from his head, he said, ‘Madame, the general will be here in a half hour; as soon as he’s arrived, we shall pass along your request.’

Then, as he was withdrawing—as if trying to convince himself that he was breaching no duty by yielding to the prisoner’s request, that he was doing so out of his sense of equity, not out of weakness—he said: ‘That’s only right. When you look at it, it’s only right!’

“‘What’s only right?’ the other guard asked.

“‘That the woman be allowed to take her sick daughter outside.’

“‘Of course,’ said the other. ‘They can walk from the Temple to the Place de la Révolution. We can escort them there.’

“The guard’s answer caused the queen a shiver, but she remained resolute: She would follow to the letter the instructions she had received.

“At nine thirty Santerre arrived. He was an excellent man, if a trifle brusque, a trifle brutal. He had been unjustly accused of ordering the terrible drumroll that interrupted the king’s speech on the scaffold, and he’d never got over it. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of getting on the wrong side of the Assembly and the Commune—and nearly lost his head.

“Santerre granted the permission requested, and one of the municipal guards returned to the queen’s room with the general’s favorable decision. ‘Thank you, monsieur,’ said the queen with the charming smile that had been the downfall of Barnave and Mirabeau.

“Then, turning toward the little dog that on its hind legs was jumping up and down behind her, she said, ‘Ah, Black, you should be happy too. Yes, we’re going to walk outside.’ Turning back to the guard, she asked, ‘So, we’ll be going out. At what time?’

“‘At ten o’clock. Is that not the time you yourself requested?’ The queen bowed, and the guard left.

“Alone, the three women looked at one another with anxiety, an anxiety mixed with hope and joy. Madame Royale threw herself into the queen’s arms. Madame Elisabeth walked over to her sister-in-law and reached out her hand. ‘Let us pray,’ said the queen. ‘But let us pray in such a way that no one will suspect we are praying.’

“At ten o’clock they heard the sound of weapons. ‘It’s the changing of the guard,’ said Madame Elisabeth.

“‘Then they’ll come get us,’ said Madame Royale.

“‘Courage,’ said the queen, growing as pale as her two companions.

“‘It is ten o’clock,’ shouted someone down below, ‘bring the prisoners down.’

“‘Here we are, citizen,’ the queen answered.

“The first door opened, and the three prisoners entered a dark corridor. In the semidarkness, they were able at least to hide their feelings.

“The little dog ran on before them, but when it got to the door of the room where its master had lived out his last days, it stopped abruptly and, whimpering, pushed its nose against the crack under the door. Its plaintive whimpers deepened into that painful moaning people call the death bark.

“The queen passed quickly by the door, but a few feet farther on she had to pause and lean against the wall. The two women drew in tightly behind her, and they waited, motionless, even after little Black caught up with them.

“‘Well!’ a voice cried out. ‘Is she coming down or not?’

“‘Here we are,’ said the queen with great effort, as she proceeded the rest of the way down.

“When she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, the drummer summoned the guard, not to honor her, but to demonstrate the armed force that made futile any attempt to escape. The heavy door opened slowly; its hinges squeaked.

“The three prisoners made their way quickly from the courtyard to the garden. Insulting graffiti and obscene figures drawn by soldiers in their spare time covered the courtyard walls, but the weather was magnificent, the sun not yet so hot as to be unbearable.

“The queen walked for about three quarters of an hour. Then, at ten minutes to eleven, she went to the canteen, where a woman named Mother Plumeau sold sausages, wine, and alcohol to the soldiers. The queen was already at the door, and just about to walk in and ask permission to sit down, when she noticed that Simon, the shoemaker and one of her most fervent enemies, was just finishing his breakfast at the table. So she decided to leave.

“But Black had already run in, and to no avail she called to the dog, who was sniffing at the trapdoor to the cellar where the widow Plumeau kept her food and drink. Insistently, the dog pushed its nose into the cracks around the trapdoor.

“Quaking, guessing what had attracted the dog’s attention, the queen called out sharply for the little dog to come back. But Black appeared not even to hear her, or if he did, he refused to obey. Instead, the dog began to growl. Then he was barking ferociously.

“A light came on suddenly in the shoemaker’s brain as to why the dog was so stubbornly refusing to obey its mistress. Up from the table in a flash, Simon ran to the door and called out: ‘To arms! Treason! To arms!’

“‘Black! Black!’ the queen called in desperation, but the dog, unheeding, barked only more furiously still.

“‘To arms!’ Simon continued shouting. ‘To arms! There are aristocrats in Citizen Plumeau’s cellar, they’ve come to save the queen. Treason! Treason!’

“‘To arms!’ the municipal guards shouted in return as they grabbed their guns and rushed toward the queen and her two companions. They were soon surrounded and led by the guardsmen back to the tower.

“Even at that, Black refused to leave or cease. The poor animal’s instinct had betrayed him. Still barking and scratching at the trapdoor, he was mistaking help for danger.

“A dozen national guardsmen entered the canteen. His eyes burning, Simon shouted, ‘There, under the trapdoor! I saw the trapdoor move, I’m sure.’

“‘Weapons ready!’ the guards shouted out. You could hear the sound of guns being loaded, while Simon continued shouting ‘There, right there!’

“The officer grabbed the ring on the trapdoor, but even with two of the strongest guards assisting him, the door wouldn’t budge.

“‘They’re holding the trapdoor down,’ shouted Simon. ‘Shoot through it; fire!’

“‘But what about my bottles?’ the widow Plumeau cried. ‘You’re going to break my bottles!’

“‘Stop your bawling, both of you!’ said the officer. ‘And you,’ he addressed the guards, ‘bring some axes and chop open the door.’

“His men obeyed, and the officer said, ‘Now, get ready, and fire into the trapdoor as soon as we open it.’

“They began breaking the door open with the ax, and once the opening was large enough, twenty rifle barrels were lowered toward it. Only there was no one to be seen. The officer lit a torch and tossed it into the cellar. Still, no one.

“‘Follow me!’ the officer ordered as he hurried down the stairway into the empty cellar.

“‘Forward!’ shouted the municipal guards, rushing after their leader.

“‘Ah, Widow Plumeau,’ Simon cried, shaking his fist at her, ‘so now you loan your cellar to aristocrats trying to free the queen!’

“But Simon unjustly accused the good woman. For someone had broken through the cellar wall from a tunnel three feet wide and five feet high that ran toward the Rue de la Corderie. On the tunnel floor many people had left their tracks.

“The officer set off quickly down the tunnel, but after only ten steps he encountered an iron grate and had to stop. ‘Stop!’ the officer called out to the soldiers hard on his heels. ‘We can go no farther. I want four men to stay here and shoot anyone who shows up. I am going to make my report. The aristocrats have attempted to free the queen.’

“That was what came to be known as the Carnation Plot. The three principal actors were my father, the Chevalier de Maison-Rouge, and Toulan, and it led both my father and Toulan to the scaffold. The Chevalier de Maison-Rouge, who hid in a tannery in the Faubourg Saint-Victor, was able to escape unscathed.

“Before his execution, my father asked my elder brother to follow his example and to die as he did, for his sovereigns.”

“And how about your brother?” Claire murmured, clearly shaken by his tale. “Did he obey your father’s request?”

“You shall see,” Hector answered, “if you allow me to continue.”

“Oh, please, go on!” cried Claire. “I’m all ears and all heart!”