Читать книгу The Whites and the Blues - Alexandre Dumas - Страница 11

Table of Contents

The citizeness Teutch, a fresh, fat Alsatian, thirty or thirty-five years of age, felt an affection almost maternal for the travellers Providence sent her—an affection which was doubly strong when the travellers were as young and pretty as was the boy now sitting beside the kitchen fire, where, for that matter, he was the only one. So, hastening toward him, and as he still shivered, holding out his hands and feet to the blaze, she said: "Oh, the dear little fellow! What makes him shiver so, and why is he so pale?"

"Hang it, citizeness," said Coclès, with his hoarse laugh, "I can't tell you exactly; but I think he shivers because he is cold, and that he is pale because he nearly fell over the guillotine. He wasn't acquainted with the machine, and it seems to have had quite an effect upon him. What fools children are!"

"Be quiet, you idiot!"

"Thanks, citizeness; that's my pourboire, I suppose."

"No, my friend," said Charles, drawing a little purse from his pocket and handing him a small coin, "here is your pourboire."

"Thanks, citizen," said Coclès, lifting his hat with one hand and holding out the other for the money. "The deuce! white money; so there is still some left in France? I thought that it was all done for; but now I see, as citizen Tétrell says, that that is just a report started by the aristocrats."

"Come, get along to your horses," said citizeness Teutch, "and leave us alone."

Coclès went out grumbling. Madame Teutch sat down, and, in spite of some slight opposition on the part of Charles, she took him on her knee. Although, as we have said, he was nearly fourteen years old, he did not look more than ten or eleven.

"See here, my little friend," said she, "what I am going to tell you now is for your own good. If you have any silver, you must not show it. Have it changed for paper money; paper money having a forced currency, and a gold louis being worth five hundred francs in assignats, you will not lose anything, and will not risk being suspected as an aristocrat." Then, changing the subject, she said: "How cold his hands are, the poor little fellow."

And she held his hands out to the fire, as if he had been a child.

"And now what shall we do next?" she said. "A little supper?"

"Oh, as for that, madame, no, thank you; we dined at Erstein, and I am not at all hungry. I would rather go to bed, for I don't think I can get quite warm until I am in my bed."

"Very well; then we will warm your bed; and when you are in it we will give you a good cup of—what? Milk or broth?"

"Milk, if you please."

"Milk, then. Poor child, you were only a nursling yesterday, and here you are running about alone like a grown man. Ah! these are sad times!"

And she picked Charles up as if he had been a baby indeed. Placing him in a chair she went to the keyboard to see what room she could give him.

"Let's see! 5, that's it. No! the room is too large and the window doesn't shut tight; the poor child would be cold. 9! No, that is a room with two beds. 14! That will suit him; a nice little room with a good bed hung with curtains to keep out the draughts, and a pretty little fireplace that does not smoke, with an infant Jesus over it; that will bring him good luck. Gretchen! Gretchen!"

A beautiful Alsatian, about twenty years old, dressed in the graceful costume of the country, which resembles somewhat that worn by the women of Arles, came quickly at this summons.

"What is it, mistress?" she asked in German.

"I want you to get No. 14 ready for this little cherub; choose some fine dry sheets while I go and get him some milk porridge."

Gretchen lighted a candle and started on her errand. Then citizeness Teutch returned to Charles.

"Do you understand German?" she asked.

"No, madame; but if I stay long in Strasbourg, as I expect to, I hope to learn it."

"Do you know why I gave you No. 14?"

"Yes, I heard what you were saying in your monologue."

"Goodness gracious! my monologue. What's that?"

"That, madame, is not a French word. It is derived from two Greek words—monos, which means alone, and logos, which signifies to speak."

"My dear child, do you know Greek at your age?"

"A little, madame. I have come to Strasbourg to learn more."

"You have come to Strasbourg to learn Greek?"

"Yes, with M. Euloge Schneider."

Madame Teutch shook her head.

"Oh, madame! he knows Greek as well as Demosthenes," said Charles, thinking that Madame Teutch doubted his future professor's knowledge.

"I don't say he doesn't. But I do say, that no matter how well he knows it, he won't have time to teach you."

"Why, what does he do?"

"You ask me that?"

"Certainly, I ask you."

"He cuts off heads," she said, lowering her voice.

Charles trembled. "He—cuts—off—heads?" he repeated.

"Didn't you know that he is the public prosecutor? Ah! my poor child, your father has selected a strange master for you."

The boy remained thoughtful for an instant. Then he asked: "Was it he who cut off Mother Raisin's head to-day?"

"No, that was the Propagande."

"What is the Propagande?"

"A society for the propagation of revolutionary ideas. Each one cuts off heads on his own account: Citizen Schneider as public prosecutor, Saint-Just as the people's representative, and Tétrell as the leader of the Propagande."

"One guillotine is not much for so many people," observed the boy, with a smile which was beyond his years.

"But each one has his own!"

"Surely, my father did not know that when he sent me here," murmured the boy. He reflected an instant; then, with a firmness that indicated precocious courage, he added: "Well! since I am here I shall remain." Then, passing to another train of thought, he said: "You remarked, Madame Teutch, that you had given me No. 14 because it was a small room, and the bed had curtains, and the chimney did not smoke."

"And for still another reason, my pretty boy."

"What is it?"

"Because you will find a young companion in No. 15, just a trifle older than you, whom you may be able to divert."

"Is he sad?"

"Oh! very sad. He is only fifteen, but he is already a little man. He is here on a sorrowful errand. His father, who was general-in-chief of the army of the Rhine before Pichegru, has been accused of treason. Just think, he lodged here, the poor dear man! From all that I can gather he is no more guilty than you or I; but he is a ci-devant, and you know they don't trust them. Well, as I was saying, this young man is here for the purpose of copying documents which may prove his father's innocence. He is a good son, as you see, and he works at his task from morning till night."

"Then I can help him," said Charles; "I write a good hand."

"Now, that's what I call a good friend," and in her enthusiasm, Madame Teutch embraced her guest.

"What is his name?" asked Charles.

"Citizen Eugene."

"But Eugene is only his first name."

"Why, of course, and he has another name, a very funny name. Wait, his father was Marquis—wait—"

"I am waiting, Madame Teutch, I am waiting," said the boy with a laugh.

"That's only a manner of speaking: you know very well what I mean—a name like what they put on the backs of horses. Harness—Beauharnais; that's it! Eugene de Beauharnais. But I guess that it's on account of that de that they call him plain citizen Eugene."

This conversation reminded the boy of what Tétrell had told him. "By the way, Madame Teutch," he said, "you must have two commissioners from Besançon in your house."

"Yes, they came to reclaim your compatriot, the adjutant-general Perrin."

"Will they give him to them?"

"Oh! he has done better than wait for the decision of Saint-Just."

"What has he done?"

"He escaped last night."

"And he hasn't been caught again?"

"No, not yet."

"I am glad of that. He was a friend of my father's, and I was very fond of him also."

"Don't boast of that here."

"And what about my two compatriots?"

"Messieurs Ballu and Dumont?"

"Yes, why did they stay, since the man they came to rescue has escaped?"

"He is to be tried for contumacy, and they expect to defend him in his absence as they would have done had he been here."

"Ah!" murmured the child, "now I understand citizen Tétrell's advice." Then he said aloud: "Can I see them to-night?"

"Who?"

"Citizens Dumont and Ballu."

"Certainly you can see them if you wish to wait, but they have gone to the club called the 'Rights of Man,' and will not be home until two in the morning."

"I can't wait for them, I am too tired," replied the boy. "But you can give them a note from me when they come in, can't you?"

"Of course."

"To them alone, into their own hands?"

"To them alone, into their own hands."

"Where can I write it?"

"In the office, if you are warm now."

"I am."

Madame Teutch took a lamp from the table and carried it to a desk placed in a little closet similar to the ones used in aviaries. The boy followed her. There, upon a slip of paper bearing the stamp of the hotel, he wrote as follows: "A fellow-countryman, who knows on good authority that you are in immediate danger of being arrested, begs you to leave for Besançon at once."

Then he folded the note, sealed it and handed it to Madame Teutch.

"But you have not signed it!" exclaimed the hostess.

"That is not necessary. You can tell them who sent it."

"I won't fail to do so."

"If they are still here to-morrow morning, don't let them go until I have seen them."

"Don't worry."

"There! that's finished," said Gretchen, coming in with a clatter of sabots.

"Is the bed made?" asked Madame Teutch.

"Yes, mistress," replied Gretchen.

"And the fire lighted?"

"Yes."

"Then heat the warming-pan and show citizen Charles to his room. I am going to make his porridge."

Citizen Charles was so tired that he followed Gretchen and the warming-pan without a word. Ten minutes after he was in bed Madame Teutch entered his room with the milk porridge in her hand. She forced Charles, who was already half asleep, to drink it, gave him a little tap on each cheek, tucked in the sheets in a maternal fashion, bade him good-night, and went out carrying the light with her.

But the wishes of good Madame Teutch were only granted in part, for at six o'clock in the morning all the guests in the Hôtel de la Lanterne were awakened by the sound of voices and arms; the butt-ends of muskets clashed noisily upon the ground, while hasty steps ran through the corridors and doors were opened and shut with a bang.

The noise awakened Charles and he sat up in bed.

At the same moment his room was filled with light and noise. Members of the police force, accompanied by gendarmes, filed in, pulled the boy roughly out of bed, asked his name, his business in Strasbourg, and how long he had been there; searched under the bed, looked in the chimney-piece, fumbled in the closet, and went out as suddenly as they had come in, leaving the boy standing in the middle of the room, half naked and wholly bewildered.

It was evident that this was one of the domiciliary visits so common at that time, but that the new arrival was not the object of it. The latter therefore decided that the best thing he could do would be to go back to bed, after shutting the door that led into the corridor, and to sleep again if that were possible.

This resolution taken and carried out, he had scarcely drawn up the sheets, when the door opened to give entrance to Madame Teutch, coquettishly clad in a white nightgown, and carrying a lighted candle in her hand. She stepped softly, and opened the door without any noise, making a sign as she did so to Charles—who was leaning on his elbow looking at her with the utmost astonishment—not to speak. He, already impressed with the dangers of the life that had opened to him the night before, obeyed her and remained silent.

Citizeness Teutch closed the door leading to the corridor behind her with the utmost care, then, placing her candle on the chimney-piece, she took a chair, and, still with the same precautions, seated herself beside the boy's bed.

"Well, my little friend," she said, "I suppose you were very much frightened?"

"Not very much, madame," replied Charles, "for I knew the men were not seeking me."

"Nevertheless, it was high time that you warned your compatriots."

"Then the men were looking for them?"

"Themselves! Fortunately they came in about two o'clock, and I gave them your note. They read it over twice, then they asked me who had written it, and I told them that it was you, and who you were. After that they consulted together for a few moments, and finally said: 'Well, well, we must be off!' And they immediately set to work to pack their trunks, and sent Sleepy-head to take places for them in the Besançon diligence. Fortunately there were two left, so they started at five o'clock this morning; indeed, to make sure that they should not lose their places, they left here at four. They had been on their way to Besançon over an hour when the guards knocked on the door in the name of the law. But, just think, they were stupid enough to lose the note you wrote them, and the police have found it."

"Oh! that makes no difference; it was not signed."

"Yes, but as it was written on the stamped hotel paper they came back to ask me who had written it."

"The devil!"

"Of course you understand that I would rather tear out my heart than tell them. Poor dear, they would have taken you away. I said that when travellers asked for paper we sent it up to their rooms, and as there were some sixty travellers in the house, it would be impossible for me to know who had written it. They threatened to arrest me, and I told them I was quite ready to follow them, but that that would do them no good, as it was not I whom citizen Saint-Just had bade them arrest. They recognized the truth of my argument, and went away saying, 'Very well, very well, some day!' I answered, 'Search!' and they are searching! Only I came to warn you and to advise you to deny everything like the devil himself, when they question you, if you are accused."

"When we get to that point I shall see what to do; in the meantime, thank you very much, Madame Teutch."

"Ah! and a last bit of advice, my little dear. When we are alone call me Madame Teutch as much as you please, but before people do not fail to call me Citizeness Teutch. I do not say that Sleepy-head would be capable of treachery; but he is a fanatic, and when fools are fanatics I never trust them."

And with this axiom, which indicated at once her prudence and perspicacity, Madame Teutch rose, extinguished the candle, which was still burning on the chimney-piece, although the dawn had come while she was there, and went out.