THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 RIVERSIDE 
 
 Indefinite loan 
 (U.C.Berkeley) 

 
 AN EPISODE 
 
 ' 
 
 )M THE PROVENCAL OF 
 
 FELIX Ci 

 
 FELIX GRAS.
 
 THE REDS OF THE MID! 
 
 AN EPISODE 
 OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE PROVENCAL OF 
 
 FELIX GRAS 
 ^\ 
 
 BY 
 CATHARINE A. JANVIER 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 THOMAS A. JANVIER 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 1896
 
 C 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1896, 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION ...... V 
 
 PROLOGUE I 
 
 I. IN THE BAD OLD TIMES .... 9 
 
 II. DEATH OR SLAVERY 27 
 
 III. THE REDS OF THE MIDI .... 54 
 IV. " THE MARSEILLAISE " . . . . IO2 
 V. THE MARCH OF THE MARSEILLES BAT- 
 TALION 145 
 
 VI. IN THE STRANGE NEW TIMES . . . 227 
 
 VII. THE STORMING OF THE KING'S CASTLE . 284
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IN all French history there is no more in- 
 spiring episode than that with which M. Gras 
 deals in this story: the march to Paris, and the 
 doings in Paris, of that Marseilles Battalion 
 made up of men who were sworn to cast down 
 "the tyrant" and who "knew how to die." 
 And he has been as happy, I think, in his 
 choice of method as in his choice of subject. 
 Had his hero been a grown man, or other than 
 a peasant, there would have been more reason- 
 ing in the story and less directness. But this 
 delightful peasant-boy Pascalet so simple and 
 brave and honest and altogether lovable 
 knows very little about reasoning. To him 
 the French Revolution is but the opportunity 
 that he has longed for to avenge the wrongs 
 done to his peasant father; and he is eager to 
 capture "the King's Castle" and to overthrow 
 "the tyrant" because he understands though 
 vaguely : for the Castle he believes to be only a
 
 vi (Jlje &eb0 of tl)e ittibi. 
 
 day's march across the mountains from Avi- 
 gnon, and the tyrant is a very hazy concept in 
 his little mind that somewhere along these 
 lines of spirited action harm will come to the 
 particular Marquis against whom his grievance 
 lies. And so he joins the Marseilles Battalion 
 and goes with it on its conquering way; and 
 through his uninstructed, but very wide open, 
 eyes we see all that happens on, and all that 
 flows from, that heroic march. Nor are the 
 standards and convictions which accompanied 
 the action changed in the narration. Pascalet 
 has become old Pascal ; but he still is a peas- 
 ant, and he still regards the events which he 
 tells about from the peasant's point of view. 
 
 It is this point of view, with its necessarily 
 highly objective scheme of treatment, which 
 gives to M. Gras's story a place entirely apart 
 from all the fiction of the French Revolution 
 with which I am acquainted. Ordinarily be- 
 cause it is so much easier to do writers of 
 stories of this period prefer to make them with 
 Aristocrats for heroes and heroines; and, done 
 that way, it certainly is very easy indeed to ex- 
 cite sympathy and to achieve lurid dramatic 
 effect. But the more difficult way that M. 
 Gras has chosen, and in choosing has cast 
 aside deliberately so much of the easily-manip-
 
 Jntrobnction. vii 
 
 ulated machinery of ordinary romance, seems 
 to me to lead to far more realistic and also to 
 far more artistic results. His epitome of the 
 motive-power of the Revolution in the feelings 
 of one of its individual peasant parts is the 
 very essence of simplicity and directness; and 
 equally simple and direct is his method of pre- 
 sentment. Old Pascal goes straight ahead with 
 his recital of personal incident and of the scraps 
 of historic fact which have come, more or less 
 accurately, to his personal knowledge because 
 he was a part of them himself; and his rare 
 attempts at explanation of the undermeaning 
 of events is but the echo of the popular senti- 
 ment of the time in which he lived. The 
 author always is out of sight in the back- 
 ground. Even in the instances when a side- 
 light is necessary it comes with an absolute 
 naturalness in the shape of question or com- 
 ment from the chorus from one or another of 
 the delightful little company in the Shoemak- 
 er's shop to which the story is told. This 
 method has the largeness and the clearness of 
 the Greek drama. The motives are distinct. 
 The action is free and bold. The climax is in- 
 evitable. Even allowing for my natural preju- 
 dice in favour of the work of a very dear friend, 
 I think that I am right in holding this story in
 
 viii lje ftebs of tlje Xttibi. 
 
 high esteem as an unusual and excellent work 
 of art. 
 
 A leading motive with the author has been 
 to do justice to a body of men that history has 
 treated very unfairly. For more than a century 
 the Battalion that marched from Marseilles to 
 Paris, and there took so large a part in precipi- 
 tating the French Revolution, has been very 
 generally slandered. French and English his- 
 torians, with few exceptions, have united in 
 describing it as a band of cut-throats and 
 thieves : in part made up of runaway galley- 
 slaves from Toulon, and in part of international 
 scrapings from the slums of Marseilles. Car- 
 lyle, in his time, was almost alone in doing 
 partial justice to this company of hot patriots. 
 " Forcats they were not, neither was there 
 plunder nor danger of it," he wrote; but 
 added, hedgingly: "Men of regular life or the 
 best filled purse, they could hardly be." Yet, 
 lacking full knowledge in the premises, his 
 Scotch shrewdness withheld him from com- 
 mitting himself. "These Marseillese," he con- 
 cluded, "remain inarticulate, undistinguisha- 
 ble in feature; a black-browed mass, full of 
 grim fire, who wend there in the hot sultry 
 weather: very singular to contemplate. They
 
 Jntrobuction. ix 
 
 wend; amid the infinitude of doubt and dim 
 peril; they not doubtful: Fate and Feudal Eu- 
 rope, having decided, come girdling in from 
 without; they, having also decided, do march 
 within. Dusty of face, with frugal refresh- 
 ment, they plod onwards ; unweariable, not to 
 be turned aside. Such march shall become fa- 
 mous. They must . . . strike and be struck; 
 and on the whole prosper, and know how to 
 die." But he felt that he had not uncovered 
 all the truth, and that what remained hidden 
 was worth digging for. Before parting with 
 these vaguely-defined heroes he offered the 
 suggestion : " If enlightened- Curiosity ever get 
 sight of the Marseilles Council-Books, will it 
 not perhaps explore this strangest of Municipal 
 procedures ; and feel called to fish up what of 
 the Biographies, creditable or discreditable, of 
 these Five hundred and Seventeen (sic), the 
 stream of Time has not irrevocably swallowed." 
 Nearly fifty years passed before Carlyle's 
 suggestion was carried out in its entirety; and 
 the two men who then completely cleared up 
 this obscure passage in history, Messieurs Jo- 
 seph Pollio and Adrien Marcel, did much more 
 than explore the Marseilles Council-Books. 
 They carried their search for facts deep and far; 
 and the result of their investigations was the
 
 ftebs of tije Ittibi. 
 
 documentary history, " Le Bataillon du 10 
 Aout" (Paris. Charpentier. 1881), that has 
 placed the Marseilles Battalion honourably be- 
 fore the world. As the records show, the five 
 hundred and sixteen men composing it, drawn 
 almost wholly from the National Guard of Mar- 
 seilles, "were carefully chosen as being those 
 whose civicism and probity were guaranteed 
 by the twelve Commissioners named by the 
 Conseil General " ; and the few volunteers from 
 neighbouring towns including, in the Third 
 Company, Louis Vauclair from Avignon were 
 accepted under the same conditions. In the 
 end, having accomplished the purpose for 
 which it went to Paris, the Battalion returned 
 to Marseilles ; where it was received with civic 
 honours (October 22, 1792), and subsequently 
 was incorporated into the Army of the Pyre- 
 nees. Other battalions were despatched from 
 Marseilles, at later dates, which were less care- 
 fully chosen and which had records by no 
 means so good. With these the first Battalion 
 has been confounded, either by accident or in- 
 tention, and ever since has suffered for their 
 sins. But the men of Marseilles with whom 
 Pascalet marched, chanting the Republican An- 
 them that ever since has been known by their 
 name because they first gave it currency in
 
 France, were precisely the simple and honest 
 patriots stern only in the discharge of the 
 great duty which they believed was theirs-^ 
 whom M. Gras has described. 
 
 The loving touch that is so evident in the 
 setting of the story comes naturally, for there 
 the author is writing of his own people and 
 his own home. It was in the little town of 
 Malemort, a year worse than half a century 
 ago, that Felix Gras was born. His charming 
 Prologue even his lament that Fate forbade 
 him to be a shoemaker, and so cut him off 
 from hearing any more of old Pascal's stories 
 is pure autobiography ; and the lightly, and so 
 delightfully, touched-in portraits the Grand- 
 father, Lou Materoun, the Shoemaker and the 
 rest, including old Pascal himself are all direct 
 from life. 
 
 I am confident that M. Gras would have 
 become a very good shoemaker, had he been 
 permitted to follow the inclination that was so 
 strong upon him when he was ten years old. 
 Assuredly, he would have given to the prac- 
 tice of that gentle and philosophic craft the 
 same energy (though differently applied) that 
 has won for him success in law and in litera- 
 ture. But as the Department of Vaucluse
 
 xii l)e Rebs of tl)c itliM. 
 
 would have lost an excellent Juge de Paix, and 
 as the world would have lost a rare poet, it 
 is fortunate that his shoemaking aspirations 
 were sapped by the judicious interposition of 
 the colour-box and the cornet-a-pistons and 
 the five little blue volumes telling about the 
 War of Troy. 
 
 When his schooling was ended he came 
 back to his father's farm at Malemort; but as 
 his passion for hunting (quite as strong now as 
 then) led him most outrageously to neglect his 
 farm-work in order to go off with his dog and 
 gun into the fastnesses of Mont Ventour, he 
 presently was despatched being then twenty 
 years old to Avignon to begin the study 
 of the law: from which study farther esca- 
 pades into the mountains were not practi- 
 cable. 
 
 In his case the ways of the law led into the 
 ways of literature very directly. The Avignon 
 notary to whom he was articled, Maitre Jules 
 Giera, was himself a writer of merit and was 
 the brother of Paul Giera, one of the seven 
 founders of the Felibrige: the society of Pro- 
 vencal men of letters, having for its leaders 
 Frederic Mistral and Joseph Roumanille, which 
 has developed in the past thirty years so noble a 
 literary and moral renascence not only in Prov-
 
 Snlrobtiction. xiii 
 
 ence but throughout the whole of Southern 
 France. With one of these leaders, Rouma- 
 nille who had married Rose Ana'i's Gras, his 
 sister, the winner of the prize for poetry at the 
 Floral Games at Apt in 1862 he already was 
 intimate; and his coming to Avignon. and en- 
 try into the lawyer's office, therefore, was his 
 entry into the most inspiring artistic society 
 that has existed in modern times that has 
 had, indeed, no modern parallel in its vigour 
 and hopes and enthusiasms save perhaps in 
 the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood; and that has 
 had no modern parallel whatever in its far- 
 reaching results. His association with such 
 companions, with whose aspirations he was 
 in close sympathy, quickly produced its natu- 
 ral consequences : he accepted law as his pro- 
 fession, but he made literature his career. 
 
 He has justified his choice. His first im- 
 portant work, an epic poem in twelve cantos, 
 "Li Carbounie" (1876), treating of the moun- 
 tain life for which his affection was so pro- 
 found, placed him at the head of the younger 
 generation of Felibres; and his succeeding 
 epic, "Toloza" (1882), with his shorter poems 
 collected under the title "Lou Roumancero 
 Prouvencau" (1887), placed him second only 
 to the master of all Provencal poetry, Mistral.
 
 xiv lje Hebe of tfye HUM. 
 
 The theme of " Toloza " is the crusade of Simon 
 de Montfort against the Albigenses treated 
 with a fervent strength that is in keeping with 
 the author's own fervent love of liberty in per- 
 son and in conscience, and with the beauty 
 that comes of a poetic temperament equipped 
 with easy command of poetic form. It vibrates 
 with a very lofty patriotism and with strong 
 martial spirit and with a great tenderness, this 
 geste provencale in which the gleaming flitting 
 figures of the two dames and the four trouba- 
 dours at once enlighten the sombre narrative 
 and stand out with a clear brightness against 
 the black back-ground of that unholy war. 
 
 His shorter poems have a different and, as 
 it seems to me, a still richer flavour. But per- 
 haps I like them best because it was through 
 them that I first knew him. Of the volume in 
 which they are in part collected, "LouRou- 
 mancero Prouvencau," I wrote five years ago: 
 "We had read no farther than 'Lou Papo 
 d' Avignoun ' and ' Lou Baroun de Magalouno ' 
 when our minds were made up that here was 
 a singer of ballads whose tongue was tipped 
 with fire. They whirled upon us, these bal- 
 lads and conquered our admiration at a blow. 
 We knew by instinct what time and greater 
 knowledge have shown to be the truth that
 
 JTntrobnction. xv 
 
 of all the Provengal poets whom we soon were 
 to encounter none would set our heart-strings 
 more keenly a-thrilling than did this fiery bal- 
 lad-maker, Monsieur Gras." And after our 
 meeting had taken place I added: "Our ideal 
 had not exceeded the reality. As fine and as 
 sympathetic as his poems is Felix Gras himself. 
 The graciousness of his person, his gentle na- 
 ture that is also a most vigorously manly na- 
 ture, his quick play of wit, his smile, his voice 
 all were in keeping with, even exceeded, 
 what we had hoped to find." That was five 
 years ago. My appreciation of his work is- 
 fuller, my feeling toward himself is deeper, 
 now. 
 
 His prose is the prose of a poet, yet racy 
 and strong. As a leading contributor to the 
 e/lrmana Prouvenfau of which annual, the 
 most important of the periodic publications of 
 the Felibres, he has been the editor since Rou- 
 manille's death he long since won popu- 
 larity with a public that judges by high stand- 
 ards and that by nature is nicely critical. But 
 his finest prose work is included in a volume 
 of Avignon stories, " Li Papalino " (1891) which 
 have the ring of the novella of Boccaccio's 
 time. In these stories his delicate firmness of 
 touch is combined with a brilliancy and clear-
 
 xvi t)e ftefca of llje ittibi. 
 
 ness of style that presents his dramatic subjects 
 with the sparkle and vivacity of the Italian tale- 
 tellers of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth centuries 
 but always with a flavour distinctly his own. 
 The Papal Court of Avignon is alive again be- 
 fore our eyes: with its gallantries, its tragedies, 
 its gay loves and deadly hates, its curious 
 veneering of religious forms upon Mediaeval 
 tenderness and ferocity. With this period, 
 which appeals so strongly to poetic instinct, 
 he long has been on terms of commanding 
 familiarity; as not only these stories but many 
 of his most fiery shorter poems show. And it 
 seems to me, therefore, that not least to be 
 commended of the qualities included in his 
 literary equipment is the flexibility that has 
 enabled him, in the present work, so entirely 
 to change his method in order to adapt it to 
 the vivid treatment of a subject taken from 
 modern times. 
 
 Finally, this prophet is honoured in his own 
 country. Since August, 1891 in succession 
 to Roumanille, who succeeded Mistral Felix 
 Gras has been the Capoulie, the official head, 
 of the Felibrige. In his election to this office 
 he received the highest honour that can be be- 
 stowed upon a poet by his brother poets of the 
 South of France.
 
 Jntrobnction. xvii 
 
 The present translation has been made di- 
 rectly from the Provenal manuscript, under 
 the author's supervision and with the benefit 
 of his advice. The only changes from the 
 original are a few modifications of expression 
 which, while proper enough in the case of 
 country-folk speaking a language of Latin 
 origin, would jar a little on ears tolerant only 
 of the nicety of English speech; and these 
 changes the author has approved. Otherwise 
 the translation has preserved the letter, and I 
 think somewhat of the spirit of the original; 
 and I can venture to say for it, at least, that it 
 has been made with a faithful and a loving 
 care. 
 
 THOMAS A. JANVIER. 
 
 SAINT REMY DE PROVENCE, 
 September i, 189$.
 
 THE REDS OF THE MIDI. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 WHEN our neighbour Pascal, the son of La 
 Patine, had grown so very, very old that he 
 had begun to nibble into his ninetieth year, his 
 dotage came upon him. He, who in the long 
 winter evenings had told us from thread to fin- 
 ished seam how he marched with the Marseilles 
 Battalion up to Paris to besiege King Capet in 
 his castle; Pascal, who had told us of all the 
 battles of the Empire, from the famous fight at 
 the Pyramids to the end of all at Mont-Saint- 
 Jean; good old Pascal de la Patine was cer- 
 tainly in his dotage. 
 
 Over and over again he kept saying: "I 
 shall die soon ; I certainly am going to die ; and 
 when I die my brother Lange will die too 
 and then who will take care of the mule?" 
 
 Poor Pascal! It was sad to see in such a 
 plight the man who had dazzled us with his 
 i
 
 l)e ftebs of tlje XttiM. 
 
 epic tales, lasting the winter long. Sometimes, 
 even, he would improvise in verse in a slow 
 rhythm, with only here and there a rhyme. 
 Through a whole evening he would chant us 
 an episode of the Revolution; or of some 
 grand killing of English or Germans or Rus- 
 sians in the time gone by. 
 
 I still can see him: always seated in the 
 same place, on the middle of the bench that 
 ran across the whole width of the wall at the 
 back of the shoemaker's shop the meeting 
 place to which all the neighbours came to 
 spend their evenings. 
 
 The shoemaker and his apprentice used be- 
 tween them a single lamp; but each had his 
 separate lihole, hanging before him by a 
 leather thong, and the reddish lamp-light pass- 
 ing through the globe of clear water cast upon 
 the sole or shoe on which he was working a 
 brilliant streak of light as clear as sunlight. 
 The good stove, as red as a poppy, made the 
 room oven-hot. We all sweltered there com- 
 fortably, simmering like a stew in an earthen 
 tian. And when old Pascal, passing into one 
 of his bard-like moods, fell to chanting his 
 story, then even the shoemaker and his ap- 
 prentice, braving the angry looks of the shoe- 
 maker's wife, turned their backs to the work-
 
 prologue. 3 
 
 t 
 
 table and for that evening stopped tap-tapping 
 on their soles and like the rest of us listened 
 open-mouthed with eyes as big as barn-doors 
 and ears like dish-covers. 
 
 I know now that the supreme joy of my 
 life came to me then, when I was nine years 
 old: when as each evening ended and bed- 
 time came I longed and longed for the morrow 
 that I might hear, as I sat in my corner, on 
 my little bench with the cat, the end of the 
 battle left half-fought the night before. 
 
 Therefore was it a mortal blow to me when, 
 being come to ten years, I was sent to the little 
 seminary of La Sainte Garde to begin my school- 
 ing. 1 even now can plainly see my father's 
 cart harnessed to our old sorrel horse who in 
 all his long life never once had kicked. I see 
 it plainly as it bumps over the stony road 
 through the garrigues, carrying my mattrass in 
 a blue-and-white checked cover, and my pig- 
 skin trunk with stiff silky bristles standing out 
 all over it. I see our pretty blue cart in 
 which, in our stable, I often had played see- 
 saw standing at last in the seminary court- 
 yard; while two men, dressed like gentlemen 
 in frock coats, take out its load. 
 
 It was then that my sorrow sharply began. 
 My father took me up in his arms and gave me
 
 two big kisses (even to-day I can feel his rough 
 beard against my soft cheeks) ; he put a great 
 handful of sous into my hand and then he left 
 me ! Victor the door-keeper, who had a little 
 pointed beard on his chin that made him look 
 like a good-natured goat, came with his great 
 bunch of keys and, cric-crac, locked the door! 
 
 As long as daylight lasted, things went on 
 pretty well. I counted and recounted my sous, 
 letting them drop one by one so as to show 
 them off. I made the acquaintance of a dozen 
 little fellows shut in like myself that morning. 
 But after supper, when night fell, when I alas, 
 poor me! had to go to bed all alone, I thought 
 of my dear mother who when I came home 
 dead with sleep from the shoemaker's always 
 helped me untie my shoes ; and I thought of old 
 Pascal de la Ratine, whom I could plainly see 
 sitting on the bench telling his beautiful stories. 
 The tears burst forth, pouring down my cheeks 
 to my pillow. I cried and cried ; until at last 
 sleep, the childish sleep that nothing disturbs, 
 took possession of me and held me softly in 
 her arms. 
 
 When I awoke, the idea that all day long 
 I could not see my mother, and that again, 
 when night-fall came, I could not spend the 
 evening with old Pascal, tormented me and
 
 made me dull and unhappy. The next night 
 I cried still more, and the next day I was still 
 more dull. 
 
 At the end of a week my father and mother 
 came to see if I had eaten and slept as I should, 
 and if I were getting used to my new life. 
 How 1 dismayed them when I told them that I 
 could not eat, and that I wanted to go home! 
 
 "But, my boy, surely you see that you 
 must study. You must learn arithmetic and 
 all the rest, otherwise what will become of you 
 when you grow up ? " said my father. 
 
 " I say I want to go home. I know quite 
 enough." 
 
 "What do you know, child? You know 
 just nothing at all! " 
 
 " I know how to read." 
 
 "You can read. yes. Well, what then ?" 
 
 " I know how to cipher." 
 
 "That's all very well, as far as it goes; but 
 you must learn latin, greek how do I know 
 what more!" 
 
 " I don't want to I want to go home with 
 you! " 
 
 "Now see here, what do you want to be 
 a doctor, a priest, or a lawyer?" 
 
 "None of them." 
 
 "You want to be a farmer? That's a
 
 Ecbs of tl)e ittibi. 
 
 poor trade, son. You must get rid of that 
 notion." 
 
 "No, I don't want to be a farmer I want 
 to go home! " 
 
 All this time my mother said nothing. She 
 merely nodded her head, while she kept on 
 peeling chestnuts for me which I munched 
 while contradicting my father. Until at last, 
 fairly out of all patience, my father cried : 
 "Speak out then ! If you don't want to be doc- 
 tor, priest, lawyer nor farmer, what do you 
 want to be?" 
 
 "Well, if really you wish me to tell," said 
 I, looking down, "I want I want to be a 
 shoemaker!" 
 
 "Oh plague take you!" said my father, 
 clapping his rough hands together, "a shoe- 
 maker! That beats all! Don't you know that 
 shoemakers always smell of shoemaker's wax ? 
 Come, come, I think the blood in your veins 
 must be dying out. What could have put it 
 into your head to be a shoemaker ? " 
 
 But I, ashamed of having betrayed my in- 
 most thoughts, did not dare to answer. I 
 dared not say that it was because I longed to 
 listen forever to the stories old Pascal de la 
 Patine would tell during all the long evenings 
 to come. What would 1 not have been will-
 
 ing to become, so that I might ever hear such 
 stories ! 
 
 Well, my father, knowing that time would 
 settle all, persuaded me to remain a few days 
 longer at the school; and promised me that if 
 I could not get used to the school-life he would 
 come for me at the end of the month, and that 
 if then I still was absolutely determined to be- 
 come a shoemaker I should be apprenticed to 
 our neighbour, in whose house I had passed 
 so many happy evenings. But in order to 
 reconcile me to my new school he said that I 
 might study painting which at that time was 
 my great passion and also music; and then 
 and there he ordered for me a colour-box and 
 a cornet-a-pistons: Mr. Trouchet, the steward, 
 was to have them brought from Carpentras the 
 very next day. 
 
 Dazzled by the promise of these delights, I 
 felt as if a great weight were lifted off my 
 heart; and, rising on tip-toe, I whispered in 
 my mother's ear: "Please send me the five 
 little blue books that I read three years ago 
 when I had the whooping-cough the books 
 that tell about Ulysses and Achilles." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know" said my mother, 
 "the War of Troy. I will send them to- 
 morrow."
 
 l)e ftebs of llje HUM. 
 
 Then my dear people gave me another 
 handful of sous, and filled my pockets with 
 boiled chestnuts. They kissed me; and then, 
 cric-crac, Victor the door-keeper with the kind 
 goat's face barred the door behind them and 
 thoughtfully I returned to my lessons. 
 
 Nevertheless, the paint-box, the cornet-a- 
 pistons, and my promised five little blue books, 
 filled my heart with joy: and it is to those 
 three things that I owe my escape from having 
 become a cobbler for the rest of my days. 
 Naturally, I grew accustomed to the seminary; 
 and great Homer with his War of Troy drove 
 old Pascal out of my mind. 
 
 And yet often I ask myself: Would it not 
 have been better to have persisted ? Had 1 be- 
 come a shoemaker, how many good stories 
 might I not have told! And now I can tell 
 you only one: the one that I heard in the 
 happy year which ended when I put on 
 trowsers with suspenders and began my school- 
 ing and so left shoemaking forever behind!
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN THE BAD OLD TIMES. 
 
 THAT evening the party was complete. I, 
 in my corner on the little bench with the cat, 
 said not a word; but 1 thought to myself: " If 
 only some one would ask old Pascal to tell a 
 story! Yesterday he finished telling us the 
 battle of Mont Saint-Jean; to-day, perhaps, he 
 will tell us nothing." 
 
 Just then Lou Materoun, as he pressed with 
 his thumb into his clay pipe a piece of amadou 
 that smelt sweet as it burned, said: "I've 
 always wanted to ask you, Pascal, how it was 
 that you, a peasant from Malemort, happened 
 to be in the Battalion from Marseilles that went 
 up to Paris the year of the Revolution ? That 
 always has puzzled me. " 
 
 "It was poverty, young fellow," old Pascal 
 answered in his rich clear voice ; "it was just 
 poverty. But if you have the patience to listen 
 I'll tell you about it from first to last." 
 
 We knew then that a story was coming; 
 
 9
 
 &ebs of llje ittibi. 
 
 and so we all settled ourselves comfortably to 
 listen, and old Pascal began : 
 
 Why are people always grunting, now-a- 
 days ? They actually grunt because of over- 
 plenty ! N.ow-a-days each peasant has his own 
 corner of earth. He who has earth has bread, 
 and he who has bread has blood. I, who am 
 speaking to you, was twelve years old before 
 ever I had seen either kneading-trough, bread- 
 hutch, oil-jar or wine-keg; things owned 
 now-a-days by the poorest peasant in the land. 
 In the one room of my father's hut it was 
 more a hut than a cottage were two cradle- 
 like boxes filled with oat-straw in which we 
 slept, the cooking-pot in the middle of the 
 room hanging from a roof-beam, and a big 
 chopping-block and that was all! That was 
 just all! 
 
 We were lodged in this hut, which stood a 
 little above the village of Malemort and close 
 to the Chateau de la Garde, because we be- 
 longed with the other farm animals to the 
 estate of La Garde, owned by the Marquis 
 d' Ambrun. My father gathered the acorns from 
 the oaks of the Marquis, and was allowed to 
 keep the half of them for his pay ; and we also 
 had the right to till two scraps of land, from
 
 In the I3ab Ib imc0. n 
 
 which we got enough beans and vetches and 
 herbs to keep us from actually starving to death 
 we three and all our fleas. You will know 
 how we lived when I tell you that not until I 
 got away from La Garde altogether did I taste 
 anything as good as a bit of fresh-baked soft 
 bread dipped in soup made of rancid pork. 
 
 My people baked bread but once a year. 
 When the day for making it came my father 
 and mother went down to the village and 
 there, husks and all, kneaded the coarse flour 
 made of the rye and beans and acorns we had 
 managed to collect in the course of the year. 
 It was on the very block that you can see in 
 front of our stable, the one on which I cut fod- 
 der for the mule, that each morning my father 
 with his big axe chopped up our food for the 
 day. By the end of the year the bread was so 
 hard that it nicked the edge of the axe. 
 
 The first bit of white bread that ever I 
 tasted was given me one day as I passed in 
 front of the Chateau by Mademoiselle Adeline, 
 who was of the same age as myself. And for 
 giving it to me she got a round scolding 
 from her mother, the Marquise. 
 
 "Adeline, Adeline!" cried the Marquise, 
 " Why do you give your white bread to that 
 little wretch ? You must not teach him what
 
 |)e ftcbs of tlje ittiM. 
 
 white bread is, or the day may come when he 
 will snatch it out of your mouth! " and then 
 turning to me, she went on : "Get out of here, 
 little beast! Get out ! Hurry or I will set 
 the dogs on you!" And I, gripping fast my 
 bit of bread, scampered off to our hut as fast 
 as I could go. That piece of bread was the 
 most delicious thing I have eaten in all my life. 
 And yet the cruel words of the Marquise made 
 it bitter with a drop of gall. 
 
 Another time I was worse served. I was 
 coming home from a hunt for some magpies' 
 nests that I knew of in the poplars in the valley 
 of the Nesque. It was ten o'clock; and, as I 
 had eaten nothing that day, hunger was twist- 
 ing my empty insides. As I passed behind 
 the Chateau, skirting the stables and sheep- 
 folds, I saw in the gutter a fine cabbage-stalk. 
 My mouth watered and I ran to pick it up ; but 
 the Marquis's sow with her litter also saw it at 
 the same time, and ran as quick as I did. The 
 swine-herd, a cruel fellow, when he saw me 
 stretch out my arm gave me such a whack 
 with his stick that he took away my breath. 
 I left the cabbage-stalk to the pigs and ran as 
 hard as I could run, for the brute would have 
 beaten me to a jelly; and as 1 made off I heard 
 the Marquis calling from his window: "Well
 
 In the Bab ifc Simes. 13 
 
 done! Well done! What is that little rascal 
 doing there ? Does he want to take the food 
 out of the mouths of my pigs ? Vermin that 
 they are, those peasants ! If they could but get 
 at us, they would eat us up alive! " 
 
 That day another great drop of bitterness 
 fell into my heart. 
 
 So, too, when Monsieur le Marquis, Ma- 
 dame le Marquise and Monsieur Robert, their 
 son who was Cavalier du Roy chanced one 
 day to pass before our hut and I saw my old 
 father and my old mother kneel down on the 
 threshold, just as if the Host were going by, 
 shame devoured me; and it seemed as if a red 
 hot iron were pressing into the pit of my stom- 
 ach it hurt me so to keep back my rage. 
 
 "You wretched boy," called out my father 
 as he rose from his knees, " the next time I'll 
 take good care that you kneel to our kind mas- 
 ter!"; and to know how good and how sim- 
 ple my father was made the fire, not of God, 
 burn the more fiercely within me. 
 
 The only one of those living in the Chateau 
 whom I could look upon with pleasure and 
 salute with respect was little Adeline, the 
 young lady who gave me the piece of white 
 bread. She had gentle eyes, and smiled at me 
 each time that we chanced to meet. But as
 
 14 l)e ftcbs of tlje ifliM. 
 
 she grew up it seemed to me that little by little 
 her smiles grew fainter. Her eyes, I know, 
 were just as gentle, only I dared not look at 
 her any more. 
 
 One November evening during All Saint's 
 week, while we were in our hut around a pot 
 of dried beans the last left from our store for 
 the year my father said: ''To-morrow, son, 
 we must begin to gather our acorns in the 
 Nesque for the winter. Times are going to be 
 hard with us. I don't know all that is taking 
 place, but I have been told that in Avignon 
 people are killing each other off like flies; and 
 there is the Revolution in Paris, and Monsieur 
 le Marquis and all the family are going to help 
 the King of France, who is in great danger." 
 
 This was the first time I had heard of the 
 King of France, but instantly the thought came 
 to me: " If I could only fight him, this King of 
 France whom the Marquis is going to defend! " 
 How old was I then ? I don't know. I never 
 knew exactly the records of baptism, you 
 see, were burned; but I must have been thir- 
 teen, perhaps fourteen years old. Certainly, 
 my father's words astonished me but as 
 much, perhaps, by their number as by what 
 he told. He always had a short tongue, poor 
 man.
 
 0Mb imes. 15 
 
 The next morning I had forgotten all about 
 the King of France when, before day-break, we 
 started to gather our harvest of acorns. It was 
 fearful weather. The ground was frozen two 
 spans deep; a cutting wind was blowing; 
 from time to time snow-squalls burst out of 
 the sullen sky. The dawn was just breaking 
 when we reached the ravine of the Nesque, 
 bordered by great oaks: through which the 
 wind blew sharply and tossed hither and 
 thither their leaves that looked as if they had 
 been turned into red copper by the cold. Ex- 
 cepting the red oak-leaves, everything on the 
 earth and above it was grey. The sky was 
 one mass of even grey cloud, stretching from 
 east to west just like a piece of grey felt. 
 Flocks of linnets, red-breasts, yellow-hammers, 
 and other little birds came down from the 
 mountains flying close to the ground or, with 
 feathers all fluffed up, huddling together in the 
 stubble or bushes. When the poor little things 
 act that way, it always is bitter cold. 
 
 Let any one try to gather acorns in cold 
 weather with numb hands! Among the peb- 
 bles in the dry bed of the river the shining 
 acorns, no bigger than olives, so slide and slip 
 through your fingers that it takes a whole big 
 half day to gather two pecks of them. My 
 3
 
 1 6 iEtje ttebs of tlje iflibi. 
 
 poor father, I can see him now ! As he crouched 
 down and leaned forward he left between his 
 skimpy greenish stuff-jacket and his buckled 
 breeches a great gap, where the sharp edge of 
 his lean spine showed plainly through his 
 coarse worn-out shirt; and his rough woollen 
 stockings were full of holes, and so worn off 
 at the heels that his feet were naked in his 
 wooden shoes stuffed with dry grass. 
 
 The furious cold wind, which whipped 
 about and whirled the copper-red leaves, 
 whistled in the osiers ; and in the hollows of 
 the rocks it howled and roared like some great 
 fearful horn. I hugged myself close, my skin 
 all cracked with the cold, and thought of the 
 good time to come when, sheltered behind a 
 rock, we could eat, with our hunger for a 
 sauce, the hard nubbin of black bread which 
 my father that morning had chopped off for us 
 on the block with the big axe. 
 
 We were working hard in silence for the 
 very poor never have much to say when all 
 of a sudden I heard the hounds of the Marquis 
 in full cry. They were at the other end of the 
 ravine, on the slope of the mountain. I jumped 
 up and stared with all my might. When one 
 is young there is nothing so delightful as to see 
 a hare chased by a pack of dogs. I saw them
 
 In fye JBab <2M& ffiimes. 17 
 
 a long, long way off: the hare, light as smoke, 
 was far ahead. From time to time she would 
 squat on her haunches, listening, and then 
 would be off again ; and at last I saw her run 
 down toward the dry bed of the stream. The 
 hounds, in full cry, came tearing after her. ' 
 When they over-ran the scent, they quickly 
 tried back and found it again. Where the 
 hare had stopped to listen, they snuffed around 
 and yelped the louder. The pack was spread 
 all across the slope. In front were the large 
 black-and-tan hounds, their ears a span long, 
 who easily over-leapt bushes and openings in 
 the ground. Then came the smaller and 
 heavier dogs, slower but surer. Then, away 
 behind the rest, the beagles with their short 
 sharp cry good beasts for taking the hare in 
 her form, but slow-going, because their little 
 twisted legs are no good for jumping and they 
 have to go round even the bunches of wild 
 thyme. 
 
 I held my breath, for the hare was almost 
 on us and was going to pass right in front of 
 me. But just as I picked up a stone sbisto ! 
 she saw me! She doubled like a flash, with 
 one spring she was over the Nesque, and with 
 another she was up the mountain side and safe 
 in the woods so good-bye to my hare ! The
 
 i8 &!)<> Rebs of the HUM. 
 
 dogs came on quickly, overrunning the scent 
 at the point where she had doubled, but pick- 
 ing it up again in no time. And then the 
 whole pack in full cry swept on down the hill- 
 side until they were lost in the forest far off 
 among the ravines, and only their cry came 
 ringing back to us faintly from the distance. 
 
 My father had not noticed any part of all 
 this. Without even lifting his head he had 
 kept on gathering the acorns with his stiff fin- 
 gers. As I still stood there, open-mouthed, 
 all of a sudden on the slope of the mountain 
 behind me I heard a noise of rolling stones. I 
 turned and saw Monsieur Robert, the Cavalier 
 du Roy, running down toward us; holding in 
 one hand his dog-whip and in the other his 
 gun. He rushed down on us like a wounded 
 wild boar it is the only thing I can think or 
 as savage as he was then ! My poor father at 
 once dropped down on his knees to him, as 
 was the peasant habit of those times; but the 
 brute, without a word, gave him such a blow 
 across the face with his dog-whip that he 
 knocked him to the ground. Seeing this, 
 I ran to the side of the ravine and, kicking 
 off my sabots, began to climb up the rocks 
 clinging with my hands and with my feet 
 too. I heard every blow that lashed my poor
 
 Jfn ttye Baft lb ime0. 19 
 
 father, and I heard the brute calling out to 
 him : ' ' Dirty beast of a peasant ! I'll teach you 
 to spoil my hunting! " and then more blows. 
 
 In the mean time the game-keeper had 
 come up: a huge man who could only speak 
 very bad French. Folks said he was a German. 
 He had a name no one could say a Dutch 
 name fit to drive you out of the house and, 
 as he had to be called something, we called 
 him Surto. This beast also began to hammer 
 my poor father, who was writhing on the 
 ground like a half crushed worm. 
 
 I had stopped on a high rock from which I 
 could see the two monsters at their cruel work. 
 I picked up a stone as big as my head and 
 threw it. The stone whistled through the air, 
 just brushing against the game-keeper's ear, 
 and fell hard and heavy on Monsieur Robert's 
 toes. 
 
 "Ai'e!" he yelled, and turning saw me. 
 Off went both barrels of his gun. The shot 
 whizzed round me, but I plunged into the 
 wood and then it was: Catch me who can! 
 
 I was only a child but I understood my 
 danger. I hid myself in the depths of the 
 woods and did not dare go back home. Shiv- 
 ering, almost dead with the cold, 1 ate my bit 
 of bread crouching in a thicket and a little shel-
 
 20 l)e ftebs of lljc 
 
 tered behind a rock. The bread was so hard 
 that I had to break it with a stone. I softened 
 it with my tears; for while eating it I was 
 thinking of my father as I had seen him with 
 his face all covered with blood, and dreading 
 that he had been killed. And my mother, 
 what would she think when I did not come 
 back to the hut ? And when she saw her poor 
 man, her Pascal, crushed and bleeding ? 
 "Ah!" sighed I, looking at the stone I held, 
 "Ah, how happy this stone is. How I would 
 like to be this stone, for then I would not suffer 
 any more " and my heart hurt me as if it was 
 cut with a knife. 
 
 Twilight was coming on. In winter it does 
 not last long; the night comes all at once. 
 The wind blew sharper and sharper. Far off 
 on the edge of the sky a long red line streaked 
 the grey clouds and showed that the sun was 
 setting. Then the sky and plains and moun- 
 tains, which all day long had been dull grey, 
 turned to a violet; while the trees and the 
 naked bushes and the rocks took on a reddish 
 tone. The wind dropped a moment, paying 
 honour to the setting sun ; a fox barked on the 
 opposite slope and then suddenly all was 
 dark. 
 
 I ventured out of my lair and climbed the
 
 In tlje Bab (33H& imee. 21 
 
 bushy side of the ravine. Just as I reached the 
 top, brrrou ! a covey of partridges flew off from 
 right under my feet with a sound like a load of 
 cobblestones tumbling out of a cart. The start 
 they gave me was soon over; and then, shiv- 
 ering and blue with the cold, I went down 
 into the plain. 
 
 At almost every step I halted and looked 
 around. The smallest rock, a tuft of thyme, a 
 live-oak bush, seemed a crouching man on the 
 outlook perhaps Surto with his gun !' I was 
 more afraid of that man than of all the wolves 
 on the mountains put together. Although the 
 wind still roared and howled, the stones rattling 
 under my feet seemed to me to make a tremen- 
 dous noise. The night was very dark not a 
 star to be seen ; the dull grey sky still spread 
 over everything. Yet I could see pretty well 
 around me. We the poor, the very poor, can 
 see in the dark. The flocks were all in their 
 folds, it was so cold. But as 1 went along the 
 slope above the Nesque, not far above the Cha- 
 teau, it seemed to me that I could hear the 
 pigs grunting; and I certainly could see the 
 light carried by the swine-herd so it must 
 have been about pig-feeding time. 
 
 I had but a few steps more to take in order 
 to reach the high rock from which 1 had thrown
 
 Hefts of tlje ittibi. 
 
 the stone at Monsieur Robert. I was burning 
 to get there, that I might know whether or not 
 my father was lying dead at the bottom of the 
 ravine, beaten to death by those two beasts. 
 I walked softly along, but the little stones still 
 made too much noise under my feet and I got 
 down and crawled silently on all fours. I 
 reached the overhang of the rock and craned 
 over into the ravine. I stared and stared until 
 I could see no more, but all that I could make 
 out was a long black line and a long white line 
 coasting the foot of the mountain. The giant 
 oaks which bordered the Nesque made the 
 black line, and the white line was the dry bed 
 of the watercourse with its smooth white 
 stones. 
 
 When I was quite certain that my father 
 was not lying there, to be food for the wolves, 
 I drew softly back on hands and knees. Still 
 filled with dread, I went down into the ravine 
 through the holly and thorny scrub-oak bushes ; 
 pushing through the thickets, for I did not 
 want to follow any beaten path to the Nesque. 
 I was afraid of that great monster of a game- 
 keeper who somewhere, I was sure, was 
 watching for me as if I had been a fox and I 
 thought that the whistling of the wind and 
 the rattling of the whirling leaves would keep
 
 In th.e Bab (2Mb imes. 23 
 
 any one from hearing the noise of the holly 
 and the thorny oak bushes which caught hold 
 of me, and of the stones which rattled down 
 under my feet. 
 
 When I reached the border of the Nesque 
 I looked out between two tufts of bushes to 
 right and to left, but neither saw nor heard 
 anything out of the way. And, what gave 
 me still more comfort, lying there where I had 
 kicked them off, so that I might run the faster, 
 were my sabots ! Then believe me or no as 
 best pleases you in order to give myself cour- 
 age, I made the sign of the cross upon my 
 breast and said the only prayer my mother had 
 taught me : 
 
 Great Saint John of the golden mouth 
 
 Watch over the sleeping child. 
 
 From harm protect him should he go 
 
 To play around the pond. 
 
 In forests, too, take care of him 
 
 Against the tooth of wolf. 
 
 Forever and ever be it so, 
 
 Fair Saint John who hast all my heart. 
 
 and then I felt that I would be cared for and 
 was safe! 
 
 With one spring I reached and put on my 
 sabots, and then flew like lightning through 
 the stubble and brush and climbed steep slopes
 
 24 t)e ftefcs of tlje BUM. 
 
 like a lizard. I slipped through the olive- 
 orchards; carefully keeping away from the 
 paths, and as far as I could from the Chateau 
 the gleaming windows of which I could see 
 on the heights above. Suddenly all the dogs 
 at the Chateau began to bark together, and as I 
 feared that they had heard or scented me I 
 went off still farther over the hills of the En- 
 garroui'nes so that I might be quite safe from 
 the game-keeper, outside the lines of the estate. 
 
 But our hut still was far away, and I knew 
 that if I went there I should be caught; if not 
 that night, certainly the next day. Still I longed 
 to see my father, to comfort my mother. It 
 seemed as if I could hear her calling me 
 " Pascalet! Pascalet ! " 
 
 In spite of the dark night, my eyes could 
 make out far off on the hill of La Garde some- 
 thing black between the woods and the olive- 
 orchards; something that looked like a heap of 
 stones. It was our forlorn hut laid up of 
 stones without mortar and roofed with stone 
 slabs. In my heart I seemed to see inside of it 
 our one room, our oat-straw beds, the pot 
 hanging by its pot-hooks and chain from the 
 beam, the big block behind the door on which 
 my father chopped the bread and which also 
 was our table. I longed for our little hut and
 
 In tljc JJair <2M& ime0. 25 
 
 all in it; but fear, my great fear of the game- 
 keeper, for a long while held me still. 
 
 At last I was able to screw up my courage 
 and go on. Keeping out of the path, and 
 taking a big stone in each hand, I went for- 
 ward slowly and step by step. Now and then 
 I stopped and listened. Feeling my way, dodg- 
 ing from one stone wall to another, 1 got at 
 last behind the hut. Softly I crept up to the 
 hole stuffed with grass that served us for a 
 window, and pushing in the grass and leaning 
 my head forward I called: " Mother! mother! " 
 
 No one answered there was no one there ! 
 
 Then my blood grew cold within me. I 
 thought that both my father and my mother had 
 been killed. I ran round to the door of the hut. 
 It was wide open. The game-keeper was noth- 
 ing to me then ! I called out at the top of my 
 voice: "Mother! Father! Where are you? 
 It is your Pascalet! " and my sorrow so hurt 
 me that I rolled on the ground in such a pas- 
 sion of crying as I never before had known. 
 
 For more than an hour I lay there while I 
 sobbed and groaned. At last, tired out, des- 
 perate, raging because I was too weak to re- 
 venge myself against those who had caused 
 my bitter pain, I got on my feet again while 
 a dark thought came into my mind. The pond,
 
 26 l)c Hebs of tlje 
 
 the big pond that watered all the fields of the 
 Chateau, was before me among the olive trees. 
 Only a month before I had seen the body of 
 pretty Agatha of Malemort drawn out of its 
 waters a girl, not twenty years old, who had 
 drowned herself there because of some trouble 
 I could not understand. 1 ran off as if crazy, 
 my arms spread wide open as though to em- 
 brace some one; and when, through the trees, 
 I saw the pond glittering I thought I saw Para- 
 dise. As I came within a few steps of the 
 edge I closed my eyes, took three jumps, one 
 after the other and pataflou! I was in the 
 middle of the pond! 
 
 Pascal stopped, yawned, and stretched him- 
 self. "Well, it's getting late and I haven't 
 yet watered the mule. I'll tell you the rest to- 
 morrow. Right about face! March!" and 
 he was off. 
 
 As I walked home beside my grandfather, 
 holding his hand, I asked him: "But Pascal 
 didn't really drown himself, did he?" 
 
 " Have patience, little one," my grandfather 
 answered. "To-morrow we shall know."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DEATH OR SLAVERY. 
 
 THE next night I ate my supper on both 
 sides of my mouth at once bolting my chest- 
 nuts and porridge, and all the while in fear 
 that I might be late at the cobbler's shop and 
 so lose even a single one of Pascal's words. 
 And while I was gobbling I kept saying to 
 myself: "Suppose Pascal should choose this 
 evening to take his olives to the mill, and should 
 leave us all gaping with no story at all! " 
 
 With my mouth still full, I got up from the 
 table and went to the cupboard where my 
 grandfather's lantern was kept and brought it 
 to him ready lighted for our start. "Well," 
 said he, "you are in a hurry, mankin." 
 
 "Oh, do come grandfather. Perhaps Pas- 
 cal already has begun ! " I cried beseechingly, 
 and at the same time pulled him by the hand. 
 But there was no need for beseeching, the good 
 old man would have let me drag him any- 
 where; he refused me nothing. When I think 
 
 27
 
 28 $i)e ftete of tl)e ittibi. 
 
 of him, the tears come into my eyes. In a 
 moment we were off, and we reached the 
 cobbler's just as Pascal was stepping over the 
 threshold. 
 
 The three of us went in together. Al- 
 ready the shop was nearly full. Pipes were 
 getting loaded, ready to be balanced in turn 
 for lighting over the smoky lamp: beside 
 which, like two little golden suns, hung the 
 shining wholes. The lively heat of the stove 
 in the close room tight shut all day long 
 with its smell of stale tobacco-smoke mingled 
 with the smells of shoemaker's wax and wet 
 leather, made an atmosphere so pungent that 
 it fairly hurt one's nose; but it grew better 
 when Lou Materoun and the rest lighted their 
 pipes each charged at the top with a scrap ot 
 fragrant amadou, that the fire might catch 
 easily and so gave us a fresh smell of burning 
 that drowned out all the old smells of dead 
 tobacco-smoke and wax and tan-bark and 
 greasy leather thongs. 
 
 The shoemaker and his apprentice were 
 hammering away at a pair of soles. They 
 were hurrying: it was easy to see that they 
 wanted to get done with their noisy lap-stone 
 work and so clear the way for the story to go 
 on. Under the blows of the mushroom-headed
 
 or SlatJorg. 29 
 
 hammers the soles curled up and became dark 
 and shiny. With his big black thumb, all 
 dotted with pricks from his awl, the shoemaker 
 turned and returned the leather on his lap- 
 stone; and presently the work was done. I 
 was getting very restless. I looked in the 
 bucket under the table to see if there were any 
 more soles to be pounded ; but in the bucket, 
 full of dark water, there were only a few stray 
 scraps of leather the pounding was at an end. 
 
 I couldn't hold my tongue any longer; and 
 I, who always kept quiet, said quite boldly: 
 " Pascal, how did you get out of the pond ?" 
 
 And Pascal, who was only waiting to be 
 started, leaned forward a little and immediately 
 began : 
 
 Well, my big jump ended in my sitting 
 down in the middle of the pond with a smack 
 that made me tingle with pain, and with a 
 shock that went all up through me to the very 
 roots of my hair for the pond was frozen as 
 hard as a stone! Hurt and half stunned, I 
 crawled as well as I could toward the frozen 
 bank; and there, in a sort of dazed misery, I 
 sat down on the cold ground. What would 
 become of me, what could I do ? I was father- 
 less, motherless, homeless, left all alone in the
 
 30 l)e ftebs of H)e HUM. 
 
 fields of a cold winter night. The only idea 
 in my poor little head was that the one road 
 out of my trouble was to die. I might go to 
 the wolves in the mountains, or to Surto and 
 the wicked Monsieur Robert at the Chateau 
 in either way the wild beasts would kill me, 
 and I would be quit of my sorrow and pain. 
 
 But suddenly a good thought came to me. 
 I remembered that the only time I had gone to 
 be catechised Monsieur le Cure had said to us : 
 "My children, never forget that God is your 
 father. When you are in trouble or pain or 
 poverty, or when you are nigh unto death, 
 pray to him and he will listen unto you. And 
 go often and see him in his own house, which 
 is the church. Go there just as you would to 
 some kind and charitable neighbour's house. 
 You will see that he will help you." 
 
 The remembrance of these promises came 
 back to me, though for three years I had 
 never thought of them ; and I got up, greatly 
 comforted. I had often met Monsieur le Cure 
 or Monsieur le Prieur, as we called him in 
 my day on the road to the Chateau de la 
 Garde. But because he went there to visit the 
 Marquis d'Ambrun that did not make him at 
 all the same sort of man as the Marquis. He 
 spoke kindly to every one. He even shook
 
 or nuerB. 3 1 
 
 my father's hand when he met him, and would 
 ask after his wife La Patine and after little Pas- 
 calet. He laughed, he joked with the poorest 
 of us. Oh, he was good dough well baked, 
 that man good all the way through. 
 
 As I went down toward the village of 
 Malemort in the cold darkness, whipped cruelly 
 by the freezing wind, I seemed to see quite 
 plainly our good Monsieur Randoulet: his kind 
 face, his grey eyes, his long white hair curling 
 on his shoulders, his fine delicate hands, his 
 gown so long that the hem always was hitting 
 against his heels, his black stockings, and his 
 shoes with their silver buckles; and in my ears 
 seemed to sound kind words spoken in his 
 womanly-gentle voice. Of all the people who 
 came to the Chateau he was the only one who 
 did not frighten me. He was the only one 
 who, when I saluted him took off his hat to 
 me, saying: "Good-day, little man." 
 
 It must have been about midnight when I 
 entered the village. No one was in the streets, 
 no lights were in the windows; and the only 
 noises were the roaring of the wind, and now 
 and then the banging of a badly fastened shut- 
 ter, and the endless murmur of water spirting 
 from the fountain into the shell-shaped trough 
 all hung with icicles. 
 4
 
 32 (Elje Eefcs of tlje iflibi. 
 
 I went on quickly through the lonely streets, 
 straight to the Curacy beside the church. But 
 when I found myself in front of Monsieur 
 Randoulet's door I began to get frightened 
 again. Would he speak harshly to me ? 
 Would he take me back to the Chateau ? 
 Would he give me again to Surto? No (I 
 answered back to myself, reassuringly), he 
 would not do these things. Monsieur Randou- 
 let always had smiled when he spoke to me. 
 Kindness always shone upon his face. He 
 was good, he could not do evil. Surely he 
 would protect me instead of betraying me: 
 and I raised the knocker thrice and let it fall 
 again one! two! three! 
 
 And then I began to tremble, in dread that 
 I had knocked too hard. I waited, listening. 
 Nothing stirred in the Curacy. I went back 
 along the church wall and peered up at all the 
 windows, but all were tightly closed and dark. 
 I went again to the door, again lifted up the 
 knocker, waited again a moment and then 
 one! two! I did not dare knock the third 
 time. In a minute I heard the voice of Mon- 
 sieur Randoulet calling: "Janetoun! Janetoun! 
 I think I hear some one knocking;" and of 
 Janetoun answering him from the upper story: 
 "Monsieur is mistaken it is only a shutter
 
 or aoerij. 33 
 
 rattling in the wind." Then I knocked three 
 times, boldly; and straightway I heard Mon- 
 sieur le Cure calling: "I told you so go see 
 what it is." 
 
 Presently I saw a light in a window far up 
 under the tiles; and then I heard the click- 
 clack of Janetoun's wooden shoes as she came 
 down the stairs. I heard her hand on the lock; 
 but before she opened the door she called: 
 " Who's there ?" 
 
 " It's me," I answered. 
 
 "But who are you?" she called again; 
 and I answered her: "It's Pascalet de la 
 Ratine." 
 
 Hardly had I finished saying my name when 
 the door opened and my eyes were dazzled by 
 the flash of light from the lamp which Janet- 
 oun carried in her hand; and as I stepped into 
 the doorway she said crossly: "Monsieur le 
 Cure is abed and asleep and if he wasn't 
 he couldn't go running through the streets in 
 all this cold. What do you want with him ? 
 Speak up! What do you want here at this 
 time of night, anyway ?" 
 
 She shut the door behind me, for it truly 
 was bitter cold, and went up around the turn 
 of the spiral stairs so as to get out of the 
 draught; and there stood facing me, waiting
 
 34 &!) ftebs 0f 
 
 for my answer. But her sharp words had so 
 upset me that I did not know what to say. 
 At last, shaking with cold and fear, I managed 
 to stammer out: "I want to see him." 
 
 "You want to see him! You want to see 
 him! Good gracious, what a box of impu- 
 dence! Don't you know better than to come 
 routing people up at two o'clock in the morn- 
 ing in winter weather like this ? And don't 
 you know that it is only a death-call that would 
 take Monsieur le Cure out on such a night and 
 at such an hour ? Aren't the days long enough 
 for you ? Come when it is day." 
 
 As she spoke, Janetoun came down the 
 stairs up which I had crept a step or two to 
 send me into the street again. But Monsieur 
 le Cure had heard all our talk, luckily, and from 
 above called out to her: "Let little Pascalet 
 come up and start a fire in the kitchen so that 
 he may warm himself. I wish it so." 
 
 Janetoun stopped grumbling, and her sabots 
 went clattering up the stair-case and I followed 
 her. We entered the kitchen, still warm from 
 the fire of the night before, and still full of the 
 smell of the sauces of Monsieur le Cure's sup- 
 per. This alone was enough to comfort my 
 poor stomach as empty as a clapperless bell! 
 How good Monsieur le Cure's stews must be!
 
 UDeatl) or Slaoerg. 35 
 
 I thought for the smells were like those which 
 came to me when I passed by the kitchen at 
 the Chateau. And it was still better when Ja- 
 netoun, with her face nearly an extra span long 
 for vexation, broke some light wood across her 
 knee and filled the fire-place with it and soon 
 had a fine white crackling blaze. It seemed 
 as if I had got into Paradise ! 
 
 Presently I heard the soft flip-flop of Mon- 
 sieur Randoulet's slippers. But when he came 
 into the kitchen, muffled up in his long wrap- 
 per and with a blue-checked handkerchief tied 
 around his head, I did not know him until 
 he spoke to me with his gentle womanly voice. 
 Then there was no mistaking him. It was in- 
 deed good kind Monsieur Randoulet himself. 
 
 ' ' Is it thou, Pascalet ? " he said. ' ' Thou art 
 a good boy, and thou hast done exactly right 
 in coming here. Do not be afraid, I will take 
 thee to see thy father. He is badly hurt, but 
 he will get over it." And as he spoke he 
 stroked my cheeks with his soft hand and drew 
 me gently to his side. 
 
 I was filled with wonder. 1 had not even 
 opened my mouth, and yet Monsieur le Cure 
 knew all that I desired. 
 
 "Where is my father, monsieur?" I ven- 
 tured to ask.
 
 36 t)e Be&s of fye ittibi. 
 
 " He is in the hospital, where your mother 
 is caring for him. I will take you to them 
 in the morning this is not the time. 1 am 
 sure you have not eaten anything to-day. 
 Janetoun, isn't there something in the cup- 
 board ? " 
 
 "What can there be ?" Janetoun answered 
 sulkily; and as she opened the cupboard she 
 added: "There is nothing at all but a stuffed 
 tomato." 
 
 As she said this she put on the table a little 
 stew-pan in which was a tomato as big as my 
 fist and browned like a pie. Just to look at it 
 made my mouth water! 
 
 "Would you like that?" asked Monsieur 
 Randoulet. "Go ahead, then, and eat it. Don't 
 be afraid. Eat it out of the pan here is a 
 good piece of bread and afterwards you shall 
 have a good cup of wine and go to bed. When 
 day-time comes I will take you to see your 
 father in the hospital." 
 
 To know that my father was not dead, that 
 my mother was taking care of him, that Mon- 
 sieur Randoulet would stand between me and 
 Surto to know all that made me so happy 
 that I felt sick. When I tried to eat I could 
 not manage it. My gullet was all drawn to- 
 gether, my mouth was dry; and my heart still
 
 or Slaters. 37 
 
 was so full of the dismal fear of that dreadful 
 day that there was no room in it for my 
 joy. I felt queer in my inside, and my legs 
 got weak under me and my head swam. 
 Monsieur le Cure saw what was the matter. 
 
 "Here," said he, "start your appetite with 
 this glass of wine," and he poured two fingers of 
 red wine into a beautiful glass cup that tinkled 
 like a bell and that had a foot like the chalice 
 used in the mass. You may be sure I made 
 no bones about swallowing it down. Friends, 
 that was wine ! In an instant I no longer was 
 the same boy. I bit into my bread and began 
 to cram my hollow inside my jaws going 
 like a sausage-chopper. 
 
 And I no longer was afraid. I talked to 
 Monsieur le Cure as I would have talked to a 
 boy of my own age. I told him all that had 
 happened that day the coming of the hare, 
 my poor father's beating, the flinging of the 
 stone, my day in hiding, and at last of my leap 
 into the pond. As he listened to me, Mon- 
 sieur le Cure sat down in front of the fire and 
 warmed himself, his arms half raised and his 
 hands out-spread to the flames as he used to 
 hold them at mass when, standing in front of 
 the missal, he sang the Prsefatio. When I had 
 finished he got up, poured for me another full
 
 38 l)e Befcs of ll)e HUM. 
 
 glass of wine and said : "You are a good boy. 
 You have done right in coming here." 
 
 Then he turned his back to me to hide his 
 tearful eyes; and lifting his arms above his 
 head, his hands clasped as when he raised on 
 high the Host at the elevation, he exclaimed : 
 "Oh wicked master! Oh false Christian! 
 The Son of God shed his blood for great and 
 small, for marquis and for serf. Wicked mas- 
 ter! False Christian! To-day art thou mas- 
 ter, but to-morrow thou mayst be cast down ! 
 Thy hand is raised against thy God, and thou 
 makest Jesus his Son to weep: for he sees his 
 people starve. Oh master accursed! Oh false 
 Christian ! Saint Roch will take from thee the 
 bread thou ravishest from those who are cry- 
 ing for food! Thou wilt see the gleaming 
 sword of great Saint John the Baptist, and thou 
 shalt feel its sharp edge ! Thy stronghold shall 
 fall down before thee, the tocsin will forever 
 ring for thee, and thou shalt see thy fountain 
 run with blood! Oh wicked lord! Oh wicked 
 Christian ! On thee rests heavily the curse of 
 God!" 
 
 In repeating these words old Pascal had 
 risen to his feet and, unconsciously imitating 
 the gestures of the good cure, had raised his
 
 JOeatl) or Slauers. 39 
 
 hands above his head in denunciation while 
 we all, overcome by his fervour, listened breath- 
 lessly and gaped at him with wide open eyes. 
 For a moment he was silent; and then, re- 
 seating himself, he continued: 
 
 Presently Monsieur Randoulet turned toward 
 rne, took me gently by the hand, and led me 
 away; Janetoun following with the lamp. We 
 went through a beautiful parlour that smelt of 
 incense like a sacristy; and at the end of it 
 was a double door which Monsieur le Cure 
 opened, and there inside, in the alcove, was a 
 big bed. 
 
 "Now then," said he, "you shall sleep 
 here, in the bed of the Bishop of Carpentras! " 
 He stroked my cheeks once more with his soft 
 hand, and again pressed my head against his 
 side, and then left me alone with Janetoun. 
 
 I did not know what to do with my hands, 
 I dared not touch anything. Janetoun, as soon 
 as her master had left us, seized me by the 
 arm and in her rough voice cried: "What are 
 you gaping at ! Get off your rags and go to 
 bed! " And turning her back on me she clat- 
 tered off with the light leaving me in the 
 alcove alone in the dark. 
 
 Poor little me! I soon got off my coarse
 
 40 l)c Uebs of tye iflibi. 
 
 wool jacket and breeches and rough stockings. 
 Feeling my way carefully, I climbed into the 
 big bed as soft as feathers could make it. I 
 buried myself in it, I burrowed down in it. 
 In the twinkling of an eye I was as warm as a 
 chick under the hen; and in another twinkling 
 I was as sound asleep as a top! The bed was 
 so soft, the white sheets smelt so clean, that as 
 I dropped off I felt myself among the angels 
 I who all my life had gone to sleep hungry and 
 whose bed had been always a truss of straw. 
 
 In my sleep I dreamed that I was floating in 
 the air on a cloud, and that nothing could reach 
 me to do me harm. I was in the midst of this 
 wonderful dream when all of a sudden I heard 
 loud shrill cries, such as you hear when a pig 
 is being stuck; and then came a rumbling and 
 squeaking like a rusty well-wheel, and the 
 clatter that the bucket makes banging against 
 the sides of the well; and then, right over my 
 head, bom ! bom ! bom ! three great claps of a 
 bell ! My blood turned cold within me and, be- 
 fore I had time to remember where I was, 
 again came the screaming and the rumbling and 
 the squeaking and the banging and again 
 bom! bom! bom! 
 
 And then suddenly I remembered that I 
 was in the Bishop's bed in the Curacy, and my
 
 IBeatl) or Siauerij. 41 
 
 fright left me as I understood the meaning of 
 all these strange sounds: that the bell-tower 
 of the church was right above me, and that the 
 bell-rope ran up through the alcove and rubbed 
 against the tester of my bed. It was the morn- 
 ing Angelus that was ringing; the same An- 
 gelus that sounded so clearly and so beauti- 
 fully in the early morning far off in our hut of 
 La Garde. 
 
 Just as the last stroke of the Angelus rang I 
 heard Janetoun's sabots clattering; and then 
 the alcove door opened creakingly and I saw 
 her standing in the grey morning light. She 
 put a bundle on my bed and said in her rough 
 voice: "Get up, little boy! Here, put on this 
 shirt, these breeches, this jacket, these shoes 
 and this cap. Do you understand?" and so 
 saying she spread out the clothes on the bed. 
 
 I gazed, gaping like a clam, at all this 
 brand-new outfit; but before I had time to say 
 a word Janetoun had turned on her heel, and 
 from the parlour door was calling back to me 
 that I must get up at once or I would keep 
 Monsieur le Cure waiting. 
 
 That warning was enough. I jumped out 
 of my high bed with a single bound ; and in 
 no time I had scrambled into the white shirt, 
 the new breeches, the warm jacket, the hole-
 
 42 l)c Eebs of tl)e fflibi. 
 
 less stockings, the pretty little buckled shoes, 
 and the little three-cornered hat. When I saw 
 myself in my fine clothes, I did not know what 
 to do with my hands and indeed could 
 scarcely walk! But I would not for the world 
 have kept Monsieur le Cure waiting; and so, 
 timidly tip-toing along, taking care not to slip 
 on the shining tiles, I went down to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 Monsieur Randoulet already was seated at 
 the table, and before him was a steaming cup 
 of something black. When he saw me, he 
 could not help laughing. "Oh look at the 
 little scamp of a Pascalet, why he might be the 
 consul's son! Sit down here and get your 
 breakfast. 
 
 ''Do you like this?" he added, and gave 
 me a cup of black steaming stuff, just like his. 
 He took a spoonful of brown sugar from a dish 
 and stirred it into my cup. "There, that will 
 warm up your little stomach," he said and 
 gave me a big fougasse with its crusty horns. 
 
 He ate and drank; and then, doing just as 
 he did, I sipped at my cup of black water and 
 dipped in it a horn of my fougasse. Not until 
 seven years later did I know that that black 
 stuff was coffee for the next time I tasted it 
 was at Jaffa, after the battle of the Pyramids,
 
 UDeatl) or Slaoerj). 43 
 
 when Bonaparte gave us coffee to keep us 
 from the plague. 
 
 "Well," said Monsieur Randoulet, wiping 
 his lips, ' ' did you like it ? " 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Cure." 
 
 "And now do you want to see your fa- 
 ther?" 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur le Cure." 
 
 " Up then, and we'll be off. Button your 
 jacket, it is cold." And we went down into 
 the street. 
 
 By that time it was broad day ; and as we 
 passed by the church we saw before it, on the 
 pavement, a big pool of blood. Monsieur 
 Randoulet stopped short. "Ah, the wicked 
 ones," he cried, " to fight, to knife each other 
 in this way! Children of the people eating 
 the same black bread, dragging the same chain 
 after them, tanning their skins at the same 
 work, burning in the same hell, slaves of the 
 same master! Ah poor people, poor peo- 
 ple! They unite their strength and they 
 sweat blood only for the profit of their execu- 
 tioners! " 
 
 We kept on to the hospital, but a few steps 
 away, and entered without knocking for the 
 doors of the House of Charity always are wide 
 open and so passed up the stairs. At the
 
 44 be ftcbs of tlje iltiM. 
 
 stair-head, to the left hand, was the room for 
 the sick, into which Monsieur Randoulet led 
 me; and as we entered Sister Lucy, who was 
 the sister in charge, came forward to meet him 
 with a reverent greeting. On each side of the 
 room were narrow white beds. In the first 
 four to the right were four wounded men 
 whose wives were taking care of them. But 
 at the far end of the room, to the left, I saw 
 my poor mother at the head of a bed ; and I 
 made but one jump to her and threw myself 
 into her arms. And my mother, weeping, 
 gave me a kiss ! The poor do not kiss often 
 their children not at all. I cannot recollect 
 that any one had ever kissed me before. When 
 my mother kissed me it seemed as if in that 
 moment I lived over all the days of my life, 
 while my heart within me swelled with joy. 
 And then, turning, and leaning over the bed, 
 I covered my old father's wounded face with 
 tears; while he kept saying, over and over: 
 "Pascalet! Pascalet! Art thou indeed Pasca- 
 let, my son Pascalet?" 
 
 But when 1 stood up again and saw my 
 father's face; when I saw the red swollen 
 welts, a finger thick, that Monsieur Robert's 
 and Surto's whips had raised on his cheeks 
 and forehead; when I saw his poor swollen
 
 or 0lat)erB. 45 
 
 eye, almost starting out of his head then I 
 began to tremble with a burning rage. My 
 face was on fire and my ears rang. My teeth 
 were eager to bite, my nails to rend. I longed 
 to burn the Chateau, to poison the wells! 
 
 But I was so helpless! All that I could do 
 was to weep. I clinched my hands and said 
 within me: "Oh, when I am big!" 
 
 My old father began to move about rest- 
 lessly ; and then to push down the coverings 
 with his thin hairy hands. 
 
 " Why art thou moving about that way ? " 
 my mother asked, covering him again with the 
 white sheets. 
 
 "I want to say something, La Ratine. 
 Come forward, thou and Pascalet. Listen. 
 You are not in the way, Monsieur le Cure. 
 Now that Pascalet is here, I want to say this 
 to you: You must both go, toward mid-day, 
 to the Chateau to see our lord Monsieur le Mar- 
 quis, and our lady Madame le Marquise, and 
 Monsieur Robert; and you must tell them that 
 as soon as I am well I will go and ask their 
 pardon. You will fall at their knees, at their 
 feet, and you will beg them to have pity on 
 you and on me. Tell them that our lives are 
 in their hands. Dost thou hear, wife ? Pasca- 
 let, dost thou hear ? You must not fail."
 
 46 l)e Kebs of tlje JttiM. 
 
 Here Monsieur Randoulet cut him short: 
 "No, no, Pascal, this is not the moment for 
 that ; when you are well, we will see about it. 
 Believe me, I know." 
 
 "Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" said my old 
 father. " What will ever our good master the 
 Marquis think of us, and Monsieur Robert also, 
 if we do not ask their forgiveness ? But, Mon- 
 sieur le Cure, if you think it is not suitable 
 not suitable now ? " 
 
 "No, no, this is not the moment. I will 
 look after it all, do not be uneasy. And now 
 good-bye, Pascalet. Come this evening and 
 sleep at the Curacy. You understand, Pas- 
 calet ? " 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Cure," said I, looking 
 at him with reverence for it seemed to me 
 that in him I really saw the good God. 
 
 But when he turned to leave us my father's 
 words came back to me: " You must go and 
 ask forgiveness!" /ask forgiveness! I was 
 red with shame, the blood boiled in my veins 
 and the wicked thought came to me: Why 
 have I such a father ? I was ashamed of him. 
 Not only would 1 disobey him, but I did 
 not know what I would do if he tried to 
 force me. 
 
 I was drawn away from these bitter thoughts
 
 or Slaoerg. 47 
 
 by hearing Monsieur le Cure, as he passed be- 
 side the other beds, speaking to the poor 
 women who, weeping, were taking care of 
 their wounded men. One had his cheek laid 
 open by the bottom of a bottle so that all his 
 teeth showed; another had both legs broken 
 at the knees by a blow from an iron bar; into 
 the back of the third a knife had been plunged 
 up to the hilt; and the fourth had been almost 
 disembowelled by a blow with a ploughshare. 
 This last, though so frightfully wounded, had left 
 the tavern and had managed to stagger as far 
 as the church before he fell. It was his blood 
 we had seen. 
 
 "But how has this happened? Who are 
 the wretches who have wrought this misery ?" 
 Monsieur le Cure asked again and again. 
 
 "They will not speak out," cried the four 
 women together. "They will not tell. They 
 will only say that it was the Papalists who 
 called them Liberals and then fell on them and 
 wounded them as you see! " 
 
 "Ah, if/ dared but speak out! " said one 
 of the women. 
 
 "What good would speaking out do?" 
 said another. "The rich are always the rich 
 they never are in the wrong." 
 
 "Come, come, this has nothing to do with 
 
 5
 
 48 ljc ftebs of tlje ittiM. 
 
 the rich," said Monsieur le Cure. " Rich peo- 
 ple don't kill off poor people like flies." 
 
 "When you go up to the Chateau, mon- 
 sieur," said one of the women, turning her 
 head away and speaking in a low voice, "just 
 ask big Surto what took place. He knows all 
 about it. Could stones speak out and tell all, 
 that man wouldn't keep his head on his shoul- 
 ders for long! " 
 
 "Then all this has come from a quarrel be- 
 tween Liberals and Papalists ? " 
 
 "That is all, Monsieur le Cure. Are we 
 the kind of people to do harm ? " 
 
 Monsieur Randoulet turned away from them 
 for a moment, while his eyes filled with tears. 
 When he spoke again he said gently: "Take 
 good care of these poor fellows. I will not for- 
 get you and your children you shall not 
 want." 
 
 Before he left the hospital he tried to get a 
 word from the wounded men. But their hurts, 
 and the fever that was beginning to come on, 
 kept them from answering and so he went 
 away. 
 
 Surto's name, spoken by one of the women, 
 gave me goose-flesh. To my mind that man, 
 that monster, that German, was ready for any 
 crime. He frightened me more than wolves or
 
 or Sloocrg. 49 
 
 tigers, or the very devil himself ! I was sure 
 that he was looking for me; that he wanted to 
 kill me in some dreadful way to revenge his 
 master, Monsieur Robert, whose foot I had 
 mashed with the stone and I saw myself torn 
 to pieces with the whip, and then strung up to 
 one of the oaks on the avenue of the Chateau. 
 
 And so I stayed close-hidden all day long 
 in the hospital; where with my father and 
 my mother and the Sisters I thought that I 
 was as safe as in the Curacy itself. And yet it 
 was in the hospital that the danger was to 
 come. 
 
 I waited until black night shut down close 
 upon the village until not a light showed in a 
 single window and I was sure that everybody 
 was in bed before I dared to stir toward the 
 Curacy. But in the very moment that I turned 
 to go we heard faintly the sound of men's voices 
 singing the ''Range Lingua," and with this 
 the tinkling of a little bell. Sister Lucy opened 
 the window and looked out, and said as she 
 closed it again: "They are the White Peni- 
 tents. They must be escorting the Holy Sacra- 
 ment to some sick man. But where can they 
 be going ? Who can it be ? " 
 
 The tinkling of the bell and the singing 
 came nearer and nearer, and at last reached the
 
 5 l)e ftebs of ll) HUM. 
 
 hospital ; then they stopped, and we heard the 
 sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. The 
 door opened, and in came six White Penitents: 
 spectre-like creatures in long white gowns, 
 with their heads hidden in pointed cowls 
 cagoules, as the Penitents call them which 
 came down to their shoulders and had two 
 staring round holes for their eyes. 
 
 When I saw these six ghosts with their 
 stretched-out heads pointed above and below, 
 without any mouth and without any nose, 
 with only two black holes where the eyes 
 ought to be and still more when I saw the 
 biggest of them glancing at me fiercely with 
 his hollow eyes I trembled with fright and, 
 holding my breath to make myself smaller, 
 squeezed down in hiding between my father's 
 bed and the wall. 
 
 In that very instant the six Penitents drew 
 each a great knife out from his long hanging 
 sleeve, and without a word they went up to the 
 four wounded Liberals and so larded them with 
 thrusts and cuts that their blood soaked through 
 the straw mattresses and streamed upon the 
 floor! The women screamed for help, and 
 Sister Lucy ran beseechingly from one execu- 
 tioner to the other until a sidewise kick in 
 her ribs sent her reeling against my father's
 
 or 0lat)er|j. 5 1 
 
 bed, breathless and sick. My mother fell over 
 against me, in a swound from fear. 
 
 All this happened quicker than I am telling 
 it you. When the Liberals were dead, stabbed 
 through and through, five of the Penitents, all 
 bloody, ran four steps at a time down the 
 stairs. But one, the biggest one, stayed be- 
 hind. He came straight to my father's bed 
 and stooped and looked under it so that I 
 saw his eyes flashing through the holes of his 
 cagoule. Then, stooping, he reached out his 
 arm and caught my wrist and so dragged me 
 out. 
 
 I screamed at the top of my voice. But no 
 good came of screaming. There was no one 
 to help me. Only my poor old father and the 
 weak women and the dead were there and 
 the monstrous great Penitent, dragging me 
 with him from the room, hustled me down 
 the stairs and so into the street. Whether or 
 no, I had to follow him. He held me like a 
 vice. When I called for help he turned and 
 cuffed me; and by the time that a window 
 opened as happened once or twice we were 
 far away. So we passed beyond the skirts of 
 the village; and at last, tired of struggling, 
 more dead than alive, I followed him quietly 
 as an unhappy dog follows one who drags him
 
 52 l)e Bcbs of tl)c ittibi. 
 
 at the end of a thong to throw him over a 
 bridge. 
 
 What could that murderous wretch want 
 with me ? From the moment that he had come 
 into the hospital I had guessed who it was; 
 but when we turned, after leaving the village, 
 into the road leading to the Chateau there was 
 no room left for hoping that my guess might 
 be wrong. I knew for certain that this man 
 who was dragging me after him, who held me 
 with his big strong hand red with the blood 
 of murdered men was Surto; and I felt that 
 since it was Surto who had me fast there in 
 the darkness of night, and on that lonely road 
 through the fields where there was no chance 
 for me of rescue I was as good as lost. 
 
 Pascal, who was a born story-teller, paused 
 at his climax; while we, greedily listening, 
 bent forward open-mouthed and eager for him 
 to go on. And just at that very moment the 
 shop door flew open with a bang, and in 
 rushed La Mie, the shoemaker's wife, like a 
 malicious whirlwind ! 
 
 " What are you all doing ? What are you 
 thinking about ? " she cried angrily. " Here it 
 is eleven o'clock in another moment it will 
 be midnight. And you have been chattering
 
 SDcatl) or SlatJerg. 53 
 
 about nothing for a good two hours! The oil 
 is wasting, and my miserable cobbler of a hus- 
 band is losing his time like a child. And as 
 for you, you lazy dog, " she added, turning to 
 the apprentice, " not a stitch have you set the 
 whole night long. It is enough to drive a 
 saint crazy. Begone, all of you!" And La 
 Mie, in a towering passion, blew out the 
 lamp. 
 
 "You hard-tongued slut," cried the shoe- 
 maker through the darkness, grinding his teeth, 
 " I'll serve you out for this! " 
 
 As for the rest of us, we groped our way 
 along the walls to the door, got out into the 
 street, and set off for our homes and beds. 
 But we hardly had taken ten steps when we 
 heard the sound of the shoemaker's strap 
 whacking La Mie's back with sounding blows.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE REDS OF THE MIDI. 
 
 DURING the whole of the next day the one 
 thing that was talked about in our village at 
 olive-mill, washing-place and bake-oven was 
 La Mie's tremendous whacking; which had 
 lasted, it was rumoured, until well on toward 
 morning. And when I heard all this gossip I 
 wondered if that evening the shoemaker's shop 
 would be open for the meeting. 
 
 But I felt reassured when my grandfather, 
 as he swallowed his last mouthful of supper, 
 snapped his knife together, put it in his pocket, 
 and said: "Come on, little man, light the lan- 
 tern. You will see she has had enough to 
 make her behave herself for a fortnight! " 
 
 Well, he was right. The shop was open 
 just the same as usual; shoemaker and appren- 
 tice were tapping away as cheerily as ever; 
 and what was more, there was La Mie in per- 
 son, smiling and agreeable, seated close to the 
 light knitting her stocking. She talked of va- 
 
 54
 
 ftebs of tlje ittiM. 55 
 
 rious things and made herself pleasant to every- 
 body. " Good evening, Dominic" (that was 
 to my grandfather). "Pray take this chair. 
 And you, my dear, put down that saucy cat 
 who has jumped up on your little bench." 
 And then, turning to her husband, she added : 
 " Why, see there, your lamp is burning badly," 
 and so saying she took her scissors and 
 trimmed the lamp. And in the tone of her 
 voice, all the while, there was a ring of su- 
 preme satisfaction and content. 
 
 I did not understand her good humour. But 
 all the neighbours smiled, and then La Mie 
 smiled too for every one knew that after the 
 shoemaker and his wife had quarrelled and 
 made up again they always were the best of 
 friends. And so, when Pascal came, she said 
 with all possible cordiality: "Ah, we have 
 been waiting for you. Draw up to the stove. 
 I heard that you were telling a story, and I 
 said to myself that I would come and listen 
 with the rest because your stories always are 
 so good. Begin right away." 
 
 And I, fearful that Pascal might have for- 
 gotten just where he left off, and that we might 
 lose a part of the story, ventured to strike in : 
 "You know, Pascal, you stopped where the 
 big White Penitent was dragging you through
 
 56 l)c Befcs of tl)e 4JUM. 
 
 the black night along the road to the Cha- 
 teau." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I remember," Pascal answered. 
 And then, after waiting a minute or two 
 until we all were comfortably settled, he 
 went on: 
 
 I certainly thought that I was lost. Every 
 time that I hung back, or tried to break away, 
 Surto gave me a buffet; and when he changed 
 me from one hand to the other he swung me 
 around so rapidly that it seemed as if he would 
 jerk loose my arms. All this time he was 
 walking fast and never for an instant did he 
 let me go free. 
 
 Up on the heights, at the end of the road, 
 I could begin to make out the black row of 
 oaks in front of the Chateau and I knew that 
 once beyond those oaks it was all up with me. 
 Yet if only I could get loose for so much as a 
 second I felt sure that I would be all right for 
 a single spring aside would take me out of the 
 road and into safety. I knew every hand's 
 breadth of the country thereabouts the steep 
 hill-sides, the tufts of bushes, the ditches, the 
 walls, the paths; and then, too, in the black- 
 ness of night a start of two steps is worth 
 more than a long run by day. But the first
 
 licfcs of ll)C JttiM. 57 
 
 thing to do was to get my start by making 
 him let go of my hand. 
 
 At first I thought of biting him of biting 
 off his finger, perhaps; but I saw that wouldn't 
 do, for I couldn't bite him at once in both 
 hands. And then my great danger sharpened 
 my wits and gave me a better notion : making 
 me remember the trick that often had been put 
 upon me by the little wild creatures crickets, 
 beetles, cigales, the praying-mantis which 
 sometimes I caught in the fields. As I touched 
 them they would always either from fear or 
 by cunning gather themselves into a little 
 heap, moving neither foot nor leg, so that they 
 seemed quite dead. I could turn them as I 
 pleased; blow on them; shout at them yet 
 they never stirred. But did I for a single mo- 
 ment look aside off would scuttle my crickets, 
 and my cigales and beetles instantly would fly 
 away ! It always was a fresh surprise to me, 
 this trick; and the good thought that came to 
 me was that I should play it in my own behalf. 
 There was no time to be wasted, and the very 
 minute that I had this notion I acted upon it 
 dropping like a dead creature and hanging limp 
 from Surto's huge hand. 
 
 " Vat, you vont valk any more ? " he cried. 
 "Veil, take that then!" and he gave me a
 
 58 l)e Hebs of tlje ittibi. 
 
 kick in the ribs that seemed to crack every one 
 of them and that knocked all the wind out of 
 me. But I set my jaws hard and made no 
 sound; nor did I give any sign of life when he 
 followed up the kick by a cuff with his great 
 paw that made my teeth chatter. He seemed 
 to suspect a trick, for all this while he never 
 let loose his grip on my wrist; and when he 
 found that neither kicks nor cuffs could make 
 me walk he dragged me along behind him, my 
 body bumping on the rough ground. This 
 was not good going for me; but it also was 
 bothersome for him. He had not taken ten 
 steps to every one of which he swore a big 
 German oath before he stopped again. By 
 that time he must have begun to believe in my 
 trick, for I heard him mutter: "I'll haf you 
 any vay, tead or alife! " and then he tried to 
 swing me up on his shoulders. 
 
 Luckily for me, his Penitent's dress was in 
 the way and he couldn't manage it. The big 
 sleeves caught him in his arms, and the cagoule 
 flapped about so that the holes no longer were 
 before his eyes. It was as though he had his 
 head in a bag. Still holding me, he tried to 
 throw off the cagoule with one hand. But it 
 would not come loose; and at last, entirely 
 tricked by my limp deadness, he let me drop
 
 0f tlje JttiM. 59 
 
 on the ground while he went at it with both 
 hands. My chance had come! In an instant, 
 while he still was fumbling at the cagoule, I 
 was on my feet; and before his head was clear 
 of it I had jumped the ditch by the roadside 
 and had bounded in among the brushwood 
 and so was well away! 
 
 "Te tevil! Ten tousand tevils! I'll haf 
 you yet, you little peast!" he cried out after 
 me ; and I heard him crashing into the brush- 
 wood as he leaped the ditch and then came 
 pounding along heavily in my wake. But he 
 might as well have been chasing thistledown! 
 I had the start of him ; I knew my way ; the 
 darkness covered me. Presently, when I was 
 a long way ahead, I heard him whistling for 
 the dogs at the Chateau. Dogs were another 
 matter. They could get along even better 
 than I could in the dark. I ran harder than 
 ever. But the dogs were slow in coming. I 
 am not sure that they came at all. Faintly, 
 far behind me, I heard Surto's strong Dutch 
 curses as I came in sight of the outlying houses 
 of Malemort. I was saved ! 
 
 It was after midnight when I entered the 
 village; yet the streets were full of people and 
 all the houses were alight. The kniving of the 
 four Liberals had turned the whole place upside
 
 60 f)e Eefcs 0f ttye IttiM. 
 
 down. As I crossed the Rue Basse I heard 
 the cries and moans of the women, up in the 
 hospital, wailing over their dead; and the 
 murmurs and curses of the crowd standing 
 about the hospital door. Still all of a tremble 
 with fear, 1 dared not enter the crowd. It 
 seemed to me that only with Monsieur le Cure 
 would I be safe and I went to the Curacy 
 without a halt. Janetoun had not gone to bed, 
 and at my first little knock I heard the clatter 
 of her wooden shoes. 
 
 "Who is there ?" she called out. 
 
 "I, Pascalet." 
 
 Then Janetoun quickly swung the door 
 open. "Well, I never!" she cried. "It is 
 Pascalet, sure enough. Where did you get 
 away from the White Penitent ? " 
 
 "Up by the Chateau. I played him a trick 
 that made him let me go and then I ran off 
 from him in the dark." 
 
 " But what did he want with you ? " 
 
 " He wanted to kill me." 
 
 "Kill you! K\\\you little Pascalet! The 
 monster! Do you know who it was ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, I know very well. It was Surto." 
 
 "The game-keeper of Monsieur le Mar- 
 quis ? That fine handsome big man ? What 
 are you talking about ? It is impossible! "
 
 0f tl)e ittiM. 61 
 
 "No, it is not impossible. I know him 
 very well. It was he." 
 
 "You are crazy, child. Be careful not to 
 speak that wild thought to any one else. Have 
 you had your supper ? " 
 
 " Yes Sister Lucy gave it to me." 
 
 "Very well. Then you shall go to bed. 
 Monsieur le Cure has not come home yet. 
 They sent for him to bring the holy oil to the 
 hospital but the men there are past holy oil- 
 ing, from what I hear. When he comes back 
 I'll tell him you're here. But you'd better get 
 to bed, so come on." 
 
 Janetoun led me to the big parlour, opened 
 the doors of the alcove, and showed me again 
 the great soft bed of the Bishop of Carpentras ; 
 and as she was closing the doors of the alcove 
 upon me she said: " At least make the sign of 
 the cross before you go to sleep." 
 
 I groped my way to bed. But when I 
 was between the sheets, in among the soft 
 feathers, I could not sleep. I had one shiver- 
 ing fit after another; and the White Penitent, 
 with his cagoule that made his head seem like a 
 kite, always was before my eyes. I would see 
 him standing up straight and tall at the foot of 
 the bed ; then his long arms would reach out 
 over me ; his grasp would settle tight on my
 
 62 l)e Ec&0 0f tl)e HUM. 
 
 foot ; and when I tried to cry out for help he 
 would clutch my throat with his blood-stained 
 hands. When sleep did come to me he still 
 kept with me and lashed me in my dreams; 
 until at last he brought out his long knife and 
 was making ready to pin me with it to the 
 bed, as he had done with the men at the hos- 
 pital. And then, suddenly, there was a loud 
 creaking noise ; the door of the alcove opened ; 
 a blinding light shone upon me and there, 
 beside my bed, was Monsieur le Cure with a 
 lamp in his hand. 
 
 "Don't be afraid, Pascalet," he said. "It 
 is I Monsieur Randoulet. You must get up 
 now. Day will soon be breaking. You must 
 
 go-" 
 
 "Monsieur," I said, "I cannot go back to 
 the hospital. I am afraid." 
 
 " You are not to go to the hospital, Pasca- 
 let. You are to go quite away from here, to a 
 place where you will be in safety. And now 
 you must get up quickly. Before the daylight 
 comes you must be off." 
 
 Without another word I was out of bed 
 and sliding into my clothes. But when I 
 looked for my cocked hat it was not to be 
 found. 
 
 "Ah, it is your little hat you are looking
 
 Hebs 
 
 for," said Monsieur Randoulet. "Here it is. 
 You left it at the hospital;" and then he led 
 me quickly to the kitchen, where Janetoun 
 already had a glowing fire. Janetoun was 
 greatly excited. She was going to and fro in a 
 hurry exclaiming: "Oh Heaven! Oh Heaven!" 
 and between whiles heaving great sighs. 
 
 Monsieur Randoulet brought out a blue 
 cloth wallet into which she put two double- 
 handfuls of figs, two more of almonds, some 
 apples, and a loaf of bread. Then, with a 
 comfortable gurgling sound, she filled for me a 
 little brown flask made out of a brown gourd 
 so polished that it shone like a chestnut 
 from the great jar of wine. 
 
 When all was finished, Monsieur Randoulet 
 took my hand in both of his and said to me: 
 "My child, we are fallen on evil times. The 
 men about us, worse than wolves, seek to de- 
 vour their own kind. Our streets run red with 
 blood. Even thou, my child, even thou, they 
 seek in order to make thee perish and, withal, 
 thou art a good boy. Therefore it is well that 
 thou shouldst go far from here, even to the city 
 of Avignon ; so far away that they no longer 
 can do thee harm. In the flask and wallet 
 which Janetoun has filled are food and drink 
 enough to suffice thee for two days double
 
 64 l)* ftefcs of tl)e Jttibi. 
 
 the time that thou needst to be upon the road. 
 Here is a letter which thou must keep by thee 
 carefully until thou art come to Avignon, where 
 thou art to present it to Monsieur le Chanoine 
 Jusserand. He will find honest work for thee 
 to do, so that thou mayst gain thy livelihood 
 with clean hands. And remember always, my 
 child, that no man ever regrets the good that 
 he has done ; and that to every man, sooner or 
 later, comes retribution for his evil deeds. 
 Kiss me and promise me that thou wilt never 
 render evil for evil ; but for evil, good even as 
 our blessed Lord has taught us from the height 
 of his cross." 
 
 And I, my heart hurting me because of 
 Monsieur le Cure's goodness and the pain of 
 going out alone from my home, answered: 
 "Yes, Monsieur le Cure, I promise. But 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "My mother who will take care of her?" 
 
 " Do not trouble thyself, my child. Neither 
 thy father nor thy mother shall suffer want." 
 
 He hung the bag full of victuals about my 
 neck, and thrust into the pocket of my coat 
 the shining flask filled with good wine. ' ' Come 
 now," he said, "I will start thee in the right 
 road " and he led the way down the stairs, 
 and so to the outer door.
 
 of tl)* 4JUM. 65 
 
 The stars were still in the sky when we 
 reached the street. No one was stirring. The 
 only noise was the gurgling of the fountain. 
 We went on together in silence until we were 
 outside the village and fairly upon the high 
 road to Avignon. Then Monsieur Randoulet 
 took me in his arms, kissed me, and said: 
 " Remember, Pascalet, all that I have told 
 thee. I will take care of thy father and thy 
 mother; and as for thee, so thou be a good 
 boy, Monsieur Jusserand, the Canon, will see 
 to it that thou hast a chance to gain thy bread. 
 Do not lose the letter. By sunrise thou wilt 
 be half way on thy journey. Ask the first peo- 
 ple whom thou meetest if thou art on the road 
 to Avignon. Walk on like a man and at 
 mid-day thou wilt sight the Palace of the 
 Popes." 
 
 Again he embraced me, and I felt him slip 
 something into the pocket of my jacket; but I 
 could not guess what it was, nor could I think 
 much about it, because just then my heart was 
 so full. "Thank you very, very much, Mon- 
 sieur Randoulet " was all that I could find to 
 say. And then I started on the road to Avi- 
 gnon. 
 
 I walked and I walked on and on over the 
 white road and through the black night. The
 
 66 l)e fUbs of tlje HUM. 
 
 farmhouse dogs came out barking from as far 
 off as they could scent me. Some even tried to 
 bite me. And I, poor little miserable boy, 
 made myself as small as I could and walked 
 on and on! Once I almost turned back. I 
 was frightened not less by the darkness than 
 by the silence which every now and then 
 was made keener by the hooting in some elm 
 or willow by the roadside of a screech-owl : a 
 dismal bird. 
 
 But at last, as I walked on steadily, day- 
 break came; and all of a sudden the beautiful 
 clear sun sprang up over Mount Crespihoun 
 sending my shadow far ahead of me on the 
 white road and cheering and comforting me 
 with his warm rays. My long shadow amazed 
 and delighted me. " It is not possible,'' I said 
 to myself, "that you are as big as that; that 
 you are so well dressed ; that you have a cocked 
 hat! Why, you look like a man!" And I 
 grew almost happy to feel myself suddenly so 
 grown up, and free, and my own master out 
 in the world. Just then I remembered that 
 when Monsieur Randoulet had left me he had 
 slipped something into the pocket of my jacket; 
 and when I fetched it out to look at it, behold ! 
 wrapped tight in a blue paper I found three 
 beautiful white silver crowns! This was too
 
 of tl)e JttiM. 67 
 
 much! Three whole crowns! What could I 
 ever do with such a sum ? Then indeed I felt 
 myself a big strong man. In that moment I 
 do not think that even Surto would have fright- 
 ened me. 
 
 I strode along the road as proud as Lucifer; 
 and presently, looking up, I saw before me a 
 great city with houses having many windows 
 quite unlike our little houses at Malemort while 
 rising still higher in the morning sunlight were 
 noble towers: "What, Avignon already?" I 
 said to myself. " Well, you have come a good 
 pace! " But just then I met a lame old peasant 
 on his way to hoe his vineyard, and his answer 
 to my question if it were Avignon took a little 
 of the conceit out of me. 
 
 "Well, my lad," he answered, "it's plain 
 that you're not from around here. That's not 
 Avignon that's Carpentras. The city of Avi- 
 gnon, God be thanked, is far enough from here. 
 If you keep right along your road you'll hardly 
 get there by sunset." 
 
 The old man put down his hoe from his 
 shoulder as he spoke; and then, leaning on its 
 handle as shepherds lean on their crooks, he 
 looked hard at me and added: "Tell me, my 
 lad, is the matter very important that is taking 
 you to Avignon just now ? If it is not, you
 
 68 $!)<> ftcbs of tjje iflibi. 
 
 had better turn right around and go back to 
 the place you came from. They say that 
 things are happening in Avignon fit to make 
 your blood run cold. And it isn't surprising, 
 either. They are a bad lot, down there 
 jealous, envious, deceitful, cowardly bad all 
 the way through. Brigands, people call them ; 
 and that's what they are." He was silent for 
 a moment; and then, coming close to me and 
 speaking in a low voice in my ear, he went 
 on: "They are worse still. They are working 
 for what they call the ' Revolution ' ; for some 
 sort of a new government in France, and 
 against the Pope. They want to get rid of the 
 Pope's government brigands that they are! 
 And, do you know, twice they have tried to 
 besiege our town of Carpentras ? That shows 
 what wretches they must be. I need say no 
 more, my lad. Good-bye!" and off he went 
 up the road. When he had gone a little way 
 he turned again and called: " I have a piece of 
 good advice to give you: Go back whence you 
 came!" and then, his hoe on his shoulder, he 
 went hobbling away. 
 
 But I, having my orders from Monsieur le 
 Cure, was not to be put about by the chance 
 warnings of a lame old man. I went forward, 
 steadily and stoutly, as though I had not heard a
 
 of ll)e ittifci. 69 
 
 single word. The sun rose higher and higher as 
 I walked on and on. I passed long stretches of 
 garrigues, whence came to me the sweet clean 
 smell of thyme growing wild there on the 
 rocky hills ; and then longer stretches of 
 meadow land dotted with -vejados the little 
 sod-heaps capped each one with a stone which 
 are set up to warn away shepherds with their 
 flocks. And so noon-tide came and passed. 
 
 It was in the early afternoon that first I saw 
 the Rhone, one of the biggest rivers in the 
 world. I have seen the Rhine, the Danube, the 
 Berezina: they all are smaller than the Rhone. 
 I don't know how to make you see it better 
 than by saying that it is as wide as Monsieur 
 Veran's twenty-acre field. Only suppose that 
 instead of seeing the brown wheat stubble 
 you saw a great ditch full of water running 
 from away off down to the very sea and then 
 you would have the Rhone! 
 
 At last I came within sight of the Pope's 
 City. Saints in Heaven ! What a beautiful town 
 it was! Going right up two hundred feet 
 above the bank of the river was a bare rock, 
 steep and straight as though cut with a stone- 
 mason's chisel, on the very top of which was 
 perched a castle with towers so big and high 
 twenty, thirty, forty times higher than the
 
 70 ipe ftefcs of tl)e ittibi. 
 
 towers of our church that they seemed to go 
 right up out of sight into the clouds! It was 
 the Palace built by the Popes; and around and 
 below it was a piling up of houses big, 
 little, long, wide, of every size and shape, and 
 all of cut stone covering a space as big, I 
 might say, as half way from here to Carpentras. 
 When I saw all this I was thunderstruck. And 
 though I still was far away from the city a 
 strange buzzing came from it and sounded in 
 my ears but whether it were shouts or songs 
 or the roll of drums or the crash of falling houses 
 or the firing of cannon, I could not tell. Then 
 the words of the lame old man with the hoe 
 came back to me, and all of a sudden I felt a 
 heavy weight on my heart. What was I going 
 to see, what was going to happen to me in the 
 midst of those revolutionary city folks ? What 
 could I do among them I, so utterly, utterly 
 alone ? 
 
 In order to scare up a little courage I felt in 
 my pocket to make sure that I still had the 
 letter that Monsieur Randoulet had given me. 
 There was the good letter, and as I touched it 
 I seemed to feel the kind Cure's hand; and 
 there, too, were the three beautiful white 
 crowns, each one of them worth three francs. 
 And then, my spirits rising until I was as light
 
 Eebs of ll)c fftibi. 71 
 
 as a bird, I marched on again until I came to 
 the gate of Saint-Lazare in the walls of Avi- 
 gnon. 
 
 Oh what sights I saw there and what a 
 crowd ! How many shall I say ? I don't 
 know at least ten thousand. The people 
 were jumping, dancing, laughing, clapping 
 their hands, hugging each other, until you 
 might have thought they all were merry-mad. 
 I found myself, I scarcely know how, mixed 
 in with this crowd which was spread out 
 along the base of the ramparts and was going 
 in and out of the wide open gates. All of a 
 sudden some one raised the cry: "The faran- 
 dole! The farandole!" and the tambourins 
 began to buzz, pipes began to squeal, and I 
 saw coming toward rne a swaying line of 
 dancers hand in hand: an endless farandole 
 stretching as far as I could see. 
 
 And what a farandole! There in line were 
 bare-footed ragamuffins hand in hand with 
 well-to-do well-dressed citizens each with his 
 watch on. There were soldiers, washwomen 
 and hucksterwomen in their Catalan caps, 
 dandies with silk-tied queues, porters, ladies in 
 lace dresses. There was a Capuchin monk, 
 red as a peony, and a brace of priests; and 
 there were three nuns kicking up their heels
 
 72 l)e ftefcs of 
 
 and showing their fat calves. Then followed 
 a long line of girls, of children, of everything. 
 And all these people capered and danced 
 and sang in time to the pipes and tabors scat- 
 tered along the line. There was no end to it 
 all and the crowd clapped hands and ap- 
 plauded and from time to time sent up a great 
 shout of "Vive la Nation!" Presently I too 
 caught the madness and away I went with 
 the others in the farandole, shouting ' ' Vive la 
 Nation! " at the top of my lungs. 
 
 It was so long, that farandole, that neither 
 beginning nor end could be seen to it. Before 
 the last of the dancers had come out by the 
 Porte Saint-Lazare the leaders had entered the 
 city again by the Porte du Limbert; while the 
 crowd pressed close behind, squeezed together 
 like a swarm of bees. Utterly bewildered, 
 gaping like an oyster, I followed my leaders; 
 and so entered Avignon by the Porte du Lim- 
 bert and went on through the Rue des Tein- 
 turiers, the street of the Water Wheels. 
 
 What a queer street that is! Half of it is a 
 paved street and the other half is the bed of 
 the river Sorgue; and on the side of the river 
 huge black wheels, dipping down into the 
 swiftly-running water, stick out from the cali- 
 co-mills and dye-houses and turn the machin-
 
 Eefcs of tlje JUibi. 73 
 
 ery that is inside. As that day was a great fes- 
 tival, the weavers and dyers were not at work. 
 Everywhere the buildings were hung from 
 roof to ground with great pieces of party-col- 
 oured calico red, blue, green, yellow, with 
 big bunches of flowers all over them and 
 from drying lines stretched across the street 
 there floated thousands and thousands of the 
 pretty bright-coloured neck-kerchiefs which 
 our girls wear: so that the whole place seemed 
 to be ablaze with flags and festoons and ban- 
 ners shimmering in the sunlight as they flut- 
 tered in the cold air. And all these fluttering 
 waving things, and the buzzing roar and the 
 surging and swaying of the crowd, with the 
 sparkling Sorgue water falling with a tin- 
 kling drip in the sunshine like cascades of au- 
 tumn leaves from the great slowly turning 
 wheels which seemed like huge snails moving 
 backwards ; all this sparkle and glitter and tu- 
 mult and turmoil, I say, was enough to dazzle 
 a man and make him mad with joy! 
 
 The press in the narrow street was so close 
 that the farandole dancers could not caper with 
 any comfort at all. Every now and then I 
 could catch sight of their heads far in advance 
 bobbing up and down above the level of the 
 crowd as they vainly tried to keep time to
 
 74 l)e tt*&8 ^ tlje ittibi. 
 
 the squealing of the pipes and the quick tap- 
 ping of the tambourins. And so on we went 
 some of us lifted off our feet at times in the 
 tight squeeze up through the street of the 
 dyers and the street of the hosiers, and then 
 out through the Rue Rouge to the Place de 
 1'Horloge in front of the Hotel de Ville; where 
 there was room to spread out again and the 
 farandole dancers once more could skip it and 
 jump it as they pleased. Again I saw pass and 
 repass that strangely linked human chain. 
 There were the bearded Capuchin and the pot- 
 bellied burghers, the nuns red as poppies, the 
 soldiers, the priests, the washwomen, the fine 
 ladies, the loafers, the children, the porters in 
 a word, there was all Avignon dancing the 
 farandole: while up on the Rocher des Doms 
 cannon thundered, and all the crowd, dancers 
 and on-lookers, roared "Vive la Nation!"; 
 and high in the clocktower of the Hotel de 
 Ville wooden Jacquemart and Jacquemarde, 
 who keep the time for Avignon, beat upon the 
 great bell and sent its loud clangour booming 
 above us in the clear air. 
 
 From the Place de 1'Horloge we went 
 onward, the crowd keeping with us and fol- 
 lowing us, to the open square in front of the 
 Pope's Palace: where all the merry-making
 
 l)e ftebs of tl)e ittiM. 75 
 
 was to come to a climax in a People's Festival. 
 In the middle of the square was a platform on 
 which already were seated the Commissioners 
 who had arrived the evening before from Paris 
 to make formal proclamation of the reunion of 
 Avignon to France. The crowd soon spread 
 over the Rocher des Doms, and increased con- 
 stantly. People were squeezed and pressed 
 together like wheat in a hopper. They were 
 piled up everywhere the windows, the bal- 
 conies, the very roof-tiles were black with 
 heads. The circling dancers with joined hands 
 made a great swaying curve which took in 
 both the square of the Pope's Palace and the 
 Place de 1'Horloge. The mass of the crowd 
 was surrounded by this huge farandole; and 
 in the midst of the balancing dancers the on- 
 lookers clapped their hands and stamped their 
 feet in time to the drumtaps and shouted: 
 "Vive la Nation! Down with the Pope's 
 Legate! Vive la France!" 
 
 Presently one of the Commissioners stood 
 up on the platform and made signs for quiet; 
 and when, little by little, the drummers and 
 pipers had stopped playing and the noise of 
 the crowd slowly had ceased, the Chief Com- 
 missioner, the formal delegate from the Na- 
 tional Assembly at Paris, read out the great
 
 76 l)c ftefcs of fyt ittiM. 
 
 decree: which declared Avignon and the Com- 
 tat Venaissin severed from the dominions of 
 the Pope and once more united to France. 
 And then the crowd burst forth into such a 
 shouting of "Vive la Nation!" and "Down 
 with the Pope's Legate!" that it seemed as if 
 their cries never would have an end. 
 
 But quiet came suddenly when the Com- 
 missioners' were seen to turn toward the Pope's 
 Palace and to make signs to some workmen 
 posted up on the roof, and as the workmen 
 obeyed their order a solemn silence rested on 
 the crowd. On top of the Palace, sticking up 
 above the battlements, you still may see the 
 little stone gable where hung for I know not 
 how long the silver bell that to most people 
 was almost the same thing as the Pope him- 
 self. It rang when the old Pope died ; it rang 
 when the new Pope was blessed and crowned 
 and people said that it rang all by itself, 
 without touch of human hand. In Avignon, 
 the ringing of that sweet-toned little silver bell 
 seemed to be the Pope's own voice; and to 
 see it gleaming in the sunshine up there in the 
 gable above his Palace made one understand, 
 somehow, his greatness and his glory and his 
 riches and his power. 
 
 And there before our eyes, obeying the
 
 0f tl) 4JUM. 77 
 
 order of the Commissioners, the workmen 
 were taking that bell away forever because 
 the Comtat was a part of France again, and 
 the power of the Popes over Avignon was 
 gone! 
 
 In the dead silence we could hear the click- 
 ing of pincers and the tapping of hammers 
 and the grating of files; and then a single 
 sharp sweet clang which must have come 
 when the bell, cut loose from its fastenings, 
 was lifted away. Having it thus free from the 
 setting where it had rested for so long a while, 
 the workmen brought it to the battlements; 
 and in plain sight of all of us, down the whole 
 great depth of the Palace walls, lowered it by 
 a cord to the ground. And the poor little bell, 
 glittering like a jewel in the sunshine, tinkled 
 faintly and mournfully at every jar and jerk of 
 the cord as though it knew that its end had 
 come : now giving out, as it swayed and the 
 clapper struck within, a sweet clear sound; 
 and again, as it jarred against the wall, a sound 
 so harsh and so sad that to hear it cut one's 
 heart. All the way down those great walls it 
 uttered thus its sad little plaint; until we 
 seemed to feel as though it were a child some 
 one was hurting; as though it were a living 
 soul. And I know that the pain that was in
 
 78 Orije ftefcs 0f tl)e 
 
 my heart was in the hearts of all that crowd. 
 The silence, save for the mourning of the bell, 
 was so deep that one could have heard the 
 flight of a butterfly and through it, now and 
 then, would come from some one a growling 
 whisper: " Liberty and the Rights of Man are 
 all very well, but they might have left our little 
 bell alone!" And it is certain that for an 
 hour or more after the funeral of the little bell 
 was ended no one shouted " Vive la Nation! " 
 or "Down with the Pope's Legate! " or " Vive 
 la France! " 
 
 But quickly enough tambourins and fifes 
 began to play again; the farandole again got 
 going; again there sounded the buzz and mur- 
 mur of the crowd. And then the men began to 
 bring the victuals for the Festival : great baskets 
 of freshly baked white bread, fat jars of olives, 
 and baskets of nuts and of golden winter 
 grapes. All these good things were arranged 
 in front of the platform where the Commis- 
 sioners were standing, and whoever pleased 
 was free to go up and draw a fixed portion : a 
 loaf of bread, seven olives, six filberts or wal- 
 nuts, and a bunch of grapes. 
 
 Getting to the baskets through the crush 
 that there was around them was no easy mat- 
 ter. But I managed it, though pretty well
 
 Hebs of tlje HUM. 79 
 
 banged and bruised by the way; and when 
 my rations were secured I looked about me for 
 a place where I could munch them in some 
 sort of comfort and at the same time see what 
 was going on. 
 
 The steps leading up to the portico of the 
 Pope's Palace seemed to be just the place for 
 me, as from there you see over the whole big 
 square. A good many other people had had 
 the same notion and were seated or standing 
 on the steps eating away ; but a soldier of the 
 National Guard, who was there with his wife 
 and little boy, moved up and made room for 
 me so that I found myself very well fixed in- 
 deed. The soldier was a good-looking fellow 
 fair and rosy and with blue eyes, a kind you 
 don't often find in these parts and under his 
 big fierce yellow moustache he had a very 
 friendly smile. At first he didn't say anything 
 to me, but when he saw me cracking my 
 walnuts with my teeth he could not hold his 
 tongue. "The deuce!" he cried. "You've 
 got a pair of iron nippers in those jaws of 
 yours, youngster, and no mistake!" 
 
 He went on cracking his own walnuts with 
 
 a Rhone cobble-stone, smiling pleasantly and 
 
 giving the kernels to his wife and little boy. 
 
 As for me, I was both abashed and pleased by 
 
 7
 
 8o l)e ftcbo of 
 
 his taking notice of me. I grinned foolishly, 
 and looked down, and did not dare to answer 
 him. His big plumed hat, his blue coat with 
 its red facings, his long sword curved like a 
 partly straightened sickle upset me and filled 
 me with admiration. I couldn't help thinking 
 how splendid it would be to have such a man 
 for a father even for a cousin, a friend! 
 
 Suddenly he stood up and looked over the 
 crowd. "They're tapping the barrels," he 
 said, and held out his hand to his wife for a 
 straw-covered bottle that was lying by her 
 side. Then, seeing my little brown gtmrd, he 
 said: " If that's empty, give it to me and I'll 
 get it filled for you." 
 
 Empty it was, for I had drained it on the 
 road, and without daring even to say thank 
 you I gave it to him ; and off he went through 
 the press up toward the end of the square, 
 where the crowd was packed close around six 
 big wine-casks ranged beneath the wall of the 
 Cardinal's palace in a row. The casks had 
 just been tapped and I can tell you the crowd 
 went for them ! For a moment we saw our sol- 
 dier shouldering his way in among the people; 
 then we saw only his hat; and at last we saw 
 only his red feather, as it went bobbing up and 
 down among the heads in the distance.
 
 of tl)e ittiM. 81 
 
 In ten minutes or so he got back to us his 
 bottle and my gourd as full as they would hold. 
 His moustache was all wet, and little red drops 
 of wine hung from the tip of each of its hairs. 
 
 " Father," called out the little boy as soon 
 as he saw him, " I want some more grapes." 
 
 "There are no more grapes. You shall 
 have some wine." 
 
 "No, I want grapes." 
 
 " But I tell you they are all gone." 
 
 "Come, darling, drink the nice wine," 
 said his mother, holding the full bottle to his 
 lips. 
 
 "No, no, I want grapes." 
 
 I had not yet eaten my grapes. I got up 
 and handed my bunch to the child, saying: 
 " There, little fellow, eat these," and I felt my 
 cheeks getting red again. 
 
 "What, deny yourself for that little glut- 
 ton! I really can't have it," said the soldier. 
 
 " Please," said I, " let him eat my grapes. 
 He is such a dear little boy." 
 
 "You are very kind," said the mother, 
 smiling at me. And then, taking the grapes 
 and giving them to the child, she made him 
 thank me for them with a little bow. 
 
 "You don't seem quite like one of our Avi- 
 gnon people," the soldier said as he handed
 
 82 j)e Eebs 0f tl)e HUM. 
 
 me back my gourd. "I don't want to know 
 what isn't my business, but do you belong 
 here ? " 
 
 "No," I answered, "I am from Male- 
 mort." 
 
 "And what do you come here for ? " 
 
 " I don't know exactly. But I have a letter 
 for Monsieur le Chanoine Jusserand, who is to 
 find me some way of getting a living. Could 
 you tell me where he lives ? " 
 
 At this my soldier frowned, and looked at 
 me so hard that he frightened me. "What! " 
 he cried. " A letter to Canon Jusserand! Then 
 you must be an Aristo, a Papalist ! " 
 
 "I? I don't know just what you mean. 
 But I don't think that I'm a Papalist." 
 
 "Then what do you want with Canon Jus- 
 serand?" 
 
 "I was told he would give me some work 
 to do." 
 
 "Why, don't you know that Canon Jus- 
 serand is an Aristo ? He won't find work for 
 any but Papalists, that's sure. But you seem to 
 be a nice sort of a boy, and I'll tell you what to 
 do if the Canon receives you badly. Come and 
 look for me in the guard-room in the Hotel de 
 Ville on the Place de 1'Horloge, and I will see 
 that you get into the National Guard. I'll
 
 Eeba of tlj* ittiM. 83 
 
 take you in my own company. How old are 
 you ?" 
 
 " I must be sixteen, more or less," said I 
 adding on at least a year. 
 
 " That's all right. You can be enrolled if 
 you're sixteen. Then that's settled, is it ? Now 
 I'll show you how to go. Take that narrow 
 street over there, just in front of us. Keep 
 down it and turn to the left and you'll be in 
 the Rue du Limas. There you will see a house 
 with a balcony, and that is where the old 
 Canon lives." 
 
 As he said this he turned toward his wife 
 and I saw him winking and making a sign to 
 her. She answered him by laughing a little; 
 and then, getting up and coming in front of 
 me, she unfastened a tricolor cockade from her 
 Catalan cap as she said: "Now that you are a. 
 good Patriot and hate the Papalists, I will give 
 you my cockade." And when she had fas- 
 tened it into my hat she turned to her husband 
 and added: " See how jaunty he looks ! You 
 are right, he will make a pretty National 
 Guard." 
 
 And then the soldier slapped me on the 
 back and shouted, and I shouted after him: 
 " Vive la Nation! Down with the Legate! " 
 
 "Now," said he, "go find your Canon.
 
 84 l)e Ecbs of lt)e 4BiM. 
 
 But don't forget what I said. You know where 
 to look for me if he turns you off. Ask for 
 Sergeant Vauclair." 
 
 " Thank you very much," I answered. " I 
 won't forget." And, so saying, I left him 
 all upset, and not knowing whether it were 
 fear or joy that made something leap so in my 
 breast. 
 
 It was very hard work getting across the 
 crowded square, as I had to squirm through 
 the crowd and break the farandole. But as 
 soon as I reached the narrow way that led to 
 the Rue du Limas there was no one to be seen 
 but a few old men, and in the Rue du Limas 
 itself there was not even so much as a cat. 
 This was the quarter of the Whites, the Aristo- 
 crats. Every door, every shutter, was tightly 
 barred. But I knew that there were people in 
 the houses for I could hear voices; and in some 
 that I passed women loudly telling their beads. 
 I went straight to the house with the balcony 
 and knocked. In a moment a little window 
 was opened over head ; but before I could look 
 up it was clapped to again, and I did not see 
 any one. 
 
 Then I heard doors open and shut inside 
 the house and the sound of footsteps in the 
 corridor, and then the creaking of the two
 
 tUbs of tlje JttiM. 85 
 
 bolts as they were drawn back and the grating 
 of the big key as it was turned twice in the 
 lock. At last the latch was raised and the 
 great door was opened the very smallest bit. 
 
 A sour-faced old woman, yellow as saffron, 
 peeked at me through the crack and in a sharp 
 voice asked: " What do you want ?" 
 
 "I want to see Monsieur le Chanoine Jus- 
 serand," I answered. 
 
 Then she opened the door wider, and I took 
 a step forward. But before I could cross the 
 threshold she gave a scream as if I had been for 
 killing her, snatched off my hat, and fell to 
 yelling: ''Help! Jesus Maria, help! A brigand 
 in the house! Help! Help! We're all lost! " 
 
 The old fury jerked the tricolor cockade 
 out of my hat and tore it to pieces with her 
 crooked fingers; spit on my hat, and flung it 
 into the street; and then, still howling for help, 
 she trampled on the scraps of my cockade 
 while she held up her petticoats as if she were 
 crushing a scorpion. Finally she gave a fierce 
 yell out of her big mouth as big as an oven, 
 and the single fang in it as long as the tooth of 
 a rake; pushed me so hard that I almost fell 
 down, and then clapped the door to with a 
 bang. In another second the two bolts grated 
 again as they were shot back into their places,
 
 86 [)e ftebs of U)e iflibi. 
 
 and the big key locked and double-locked the 
 door. 
 
 I was struck all of a heap by this outburst. 
 I couldn't make head nor tail of it. But by 
 this time all the windows in the neighbour- 
 hood were open and from everywhere women 
 were screaming: "There's a brigand in the 
 street! To the Rhone with him! To the 
 Rhone!" and as I stooped to pick up my hat 
 from the gutter a shower of brickbats and tiles 
 and stones came down around me. I was only 
 too glad to get out of that Rue du Limas 
 where, without in the least meaning to, I had 
 kicked up such a row. 
 
 I felt as silly as a soused cat as I went back 
 to the square of the Palace; and there I mixed 
 in with the crowd and stared at the farandole 
 till nightfall. I turned over and over in my 
 head all that had passed, trying to make sense 
 of it. I had spoken politely to the lady in the 
 Rue du Limas. Why then had she treated me 
 as if 1 were a robber or a murderer ? Why 
 had she torn off my cockade ? Why had all 
 her neighbours called out: "To the Rhone 
 with him! To the Rhone with him!" I had 
 done no harm to anybody. Then why should 
 I be hooted at and stoned ? 
 
 I looked around me and thought bitterly:
 
 0f tlje HUM. 87 
 
 "Here are all these people, eating, drinking, 
 dancing, singing. Each one has a home and a 
 bed to go to. I am the only one here who has 
 no shelter for the night, no relations, no friends. 
 In the only place where I had any right to go, 
 I was treated like a robber. " I found myself 
 wanting to get back to the old times when the 
 sow took the cabbage-stalk from me. What 
 was I good for anyway ? What would become 
 of me ? 
 
 Then I began to think of the Rhone, the 
 great Rhone, just as I had thought of the pond 
 at La Garde. There was, to be sure, the sol- 
 dier Vauclair, who had spoken kindly to me 
 and who seemed to be a good man. But 
 most likely he had but made fun of me when 
 he said I should be enrolled in his company of 
 the National Guard. 
 
 Night was coming on fast. The Palace 
 square was emptying rapidly, only one or two 
 tambourins were left and the farandole was 
 breaking up. I saw one of the three nuns 
 going off arm in arm with two soldiers. A 
 few tipplers still hung around the wine-casks, 
 standing them up on end so as to drain out the 
 very last drop. 
 
 I went on the Place de 1'Horloge. People 
 there were stepping out briskly, for the cold
 
 i)e ttcfcs of tlje iUiM. 
 
 began to nip. Only a single lamp was lighted, 
 the one over the entrance to the Hotel de Ville 
 where people were coming out and going in 
 all the time. I did not dare to enter to ask for 
 my National Guardsman. I was afraid that I 
 would only be laughed at and turned away. 
 Up and down I walked in the dark, thinking 
 what I had better do. At last I made up my 
 mind. The kind-looking soldier certainly had 
 told me to ask for him ; and, after all, if things 
 went wrong I still had the Rhone to fall back 
 on. And so, plucking up courage, I ventured 
 within the entrance and peered through a glass 
 door into the lighted up guard-room in the 
 hope that I might see my friend. 
 
 As I stood there, staring, the Porter came 
 out of his room and clapped his hand on my 
 shoulder: "Now then, what are you after 
 here ? " he asked. 
 
 "I want to see Monsieur Vauclair," I an- 
 swered. "Is he inside there ? " 
 
 "There are no 'monsieurs' here; we are 
 all citizens," said the Porter. "This smells of 
 treason," he went on. "It must be looked 
 into." And holding fast to my shoulder, so 
 that I felt his five fingers digging into me 
 like claws, he called out: " Sergeant, Sergeant 
 Vauclair! "
 
 ftefcs 0f tlje ittiM. 
 
 The glass door of the guard-room opened 
 instantly and out came my handsome Guards- 
 man bare-headed, his moustache twirled 
 up and his pipe in his mouth.' 
 
 "What's the matter?" he asked. 
 
 "Look here," said the Porter, "do you 
 know this sprout ? To my mind he has the 
 mug of an Aristo. Maybe he's a spy. He 
 asked for 'Monsieur' Vauclair." 
 
 "Oh, it's you, youngster, is it? You're 
 pretty late," said Vauclair kindly. "And so 
 the Canon wouldn't have anything to do with 
 you, eh ? Well, you'll be better off here. 
 Come, I'll enroll you right off. Vive la Na- 
 tion! " 
 
 He took me by the hand, while the Porter 
 said doubtfully: "Oh, you know him, do 
 you ? All the same, look out for him. I haven't 
 any use for people who say ' monsieur'! " 
 
 The Porter went back into his quarters, 
 still grumbling, and Vauclair led me into the 
 guard-room. It was a long narrow room, 
 lighted by a big lamp hung from the ceiling 
 by a chain, and in its middle a good stove 
 was roaring away. Along the walls were 
 benches on which the men of the Guard were 
 sitting, smoking and talking; and at the far end 
 were rough wooden bunks in which they
 
 go |)e Hebs of tfye iflibi. 
 
 slept. Guns and swords and cocked hats were 
 hanging on the walls; and the walls were 
 pretty well covered with all sorts of fool-pic- 
 tures of soldiers done with charcoal, and with 
 scribblings which 1 suppose were writing but 
 I didn't know what writing was, in those days. 
 The pipe-smoke was thick enough to cut with 
 a knife. Everybody was smoking except 
 one man who had laid his head down on his 
 arms on the table and was sound asleep. 
 
 "Comrades, here's a new recruit for the 
 Revolution a volunteer for our Company," 
 said Vauclair as we entered the room. And 
 then, turning to me, he added: "That's so, 
 youngster, isn't it ? Now then, speak out 
 Liberty or Death ! Vive la Nation ! " 
 
 I was beginning to get the hang of things a 
 little by this time. Standing on the tips of my 
 toes to make myself taller, and swinging my 
 hat above my head, I shouted: "Vive la Na- 
 tion! Liberty or Death! " and all the National 
 Guardsmen cried after me: "Liberty or 
 Death!" 
 
 The noise woke up the soldier who was 
 snoring on the table. Rubbing his eyes and 
 looking around him sleepily he called out: 
 "Why the devil are you all making such a 
 row ? "
 
 Hebe of tt)e ittiM. 9 1 
 
 "Here's a new volunteer," said Vauclair, 
 leading me up to the table. " Get the roster 
 and we'll enroll him right off." 
 
 " Good for him! " the man answered. 
 
 By this time he was quite awake and had 
 brought out from the drawer of the table the 
 roster of the Company and the form of enlist- 
 ment that was to be filled in. Spreading the 
 papers out before him and dipping his pen in 
 the ink-bottle, he turned to me and said : 
 
 ''Your name, Citizen ?" 
 
 " Pascalet" 
 
 " Your father's name ? " 
 
 "Pascal." 
 
 " Hasn't he any other name than Pascal?" 
 
 " I never heard any." 
 
 " Your mother's name ? " 
 
 "La Patine." 
 
 "La Patine? Isn't she called also Gothon 
 or Janetoun or Babette ? " 
 
 "1 don't know. I never heard her called 
 anything but La Patine." 
 
 "Well, we'll put it down La Patine, any- 
 way. Where were you born ? " 
 
 "At Malemort in the Comtat." 
 
 " That's all right. Now sign your name." 
 
 I had to tell him that I couldn't; that I 
 didn't know how.
 
 92 l)e Hebs of tljc Iftibi. 
 
 "No matter," said Vauclair taking my 
 hand. "You don't know how to write with 
 black ink, but we'll teach you to write with 
 red! Where is the quarter-master? Ah, there 
 you are, Berigot. Take this man to the equip- 
 ment-room, and fit him out so that he may be 
 ready to present himself properly under arms." 
 
 An old grumbler got up from the bench, 
 shook out his pipe, lighted a lantern and 
 nodded to me to follow him. We climbed up 
 into Jacquemart's clock-tower by a winding 
 stair-case as steep as a ladder and so narrow 
 that only one person could pass at a time. We 
 went up and up and up. At last we reached 
 a square room crammed full of soldier-clothes 
 and cocked-hats and guns and swords. The 
 quarter-master took a careful look at me and 
 then, turning to the heap of clothes, rummaged 
 all through it and finally dragged out a coat. 
 "There, that will fit you," said he. "Try 
 it on." 
 
 Oh what a lovely coat it was! To be sure 
 it had been worn a good deal and was a little 
 thread-bare but what difference did that make ! 
 It was of dark green cloth with a large turned- 
 back red collar, and it ha"d beautiful gilt buttons, 
 and fine long tails that flapped against my 
 calves. It certainly was very much too big
 
 i)e ftebs of tlje 4SUM. 93 
 
 for me all over, and the sleeves were so long 
 that they came down to the tips of my fingers. 
 But I held my tongue about its bigness and 
 quietly turned up the sleeves; and, as the coat 
 was lined with red. this gave me a pair of red 
 cuffs like my collar. 
 
 Having got my coat, I had next to get a 
 hat; and this bothered me badly. I must have 
 tried on between twenty and thirty and they 
 all came down to my ears. At last the quarter- 
 master lost all patience and called out: "Te! 
 Put on that red cap : then you'll be rigged like 
 the Marseilles Federals." 
 
 I put on the pretty red cap. Its tip fell 
 over well down to my shoulder, and on its 
 side was stuck a full-blown cabbage of a 
 cockade! I was delighted with it; and with 
 the fine pair of blue breeches and the snowy 
 white gaiters which the quarter-master tossed 
 over to me, saying that I needn't bother about 
 trying them on as breeches and gaiters always 
 fitted everybody. "And now," said he, "you 
 want a sword and a gun. Pick out what you 
 like and let's get through." 
 
 It didn't seem possible that I really was to 
 have a sword and a gun, and I was so upset 
 that I took the first gun that I laid my hands 
 on. But about the sword I was more careful.
 
 94 l)e Befcs of tlje ittibi. 
 
 I wanted a long curved sword, like Vauclair's; 
 and those in the heap seemed to be all straight 
 and short. I turned the heap topsy-turvy with- 
 out finding what 1 wanted ; and as I was fuss- 
 ing altogether too long over it old Berigot 
 called out to me: "What are you making 
 such a to-do about ? Don't you see one is as 
 good as another ? With a touch of the whet- 
 stone any of 'em '11 cut like razors. Take one 
 and come along." And so I had to be satisfied 
 with a short straight sword, after all. 
 
 Berigot fastened the door behind us, and 
 down we went. I had more than a load to 
 carry; and my gun kept catching against the 
 wall, and my sword all the while was sliding 
 in between my legs and tripping me so that 
 two or three times I nearly pitched head over 
 heels down the narrow stairs and, altogether, 
 I was as bothered as a donkey in a cane-brake. 
 And then when we got back to the guard- 
 room all the men came around me and every 
 one had something to say. "The cap doesn't 
 fit badly," said one; "He'll grow up to his 
 sword," said another; "The coat is only a 
 span or two too long," said a third. 
 
 "Oh, come now," Vauclair broke in, " don't 
 bother the boy with your nonsense. He's all 
 right Come along, Pascalet, you shall sleep
 
 of tl)e ittiM. 95 
 
 in my quarters to-night; and before you are 
 up in the morning my wife will have your coat 
 to fit you like your skin. All it needs is a tuck 
 in the sleeves and a little shortening. Come, 
 we'll go now. You must be about used up 
 by this time. You shall have a bite and a sup 
 with us and half of my little boy's bed; and to- 
 morrow I'll take you to the drill outside the 
 ramparts and I tell you we'll rattle the Aris- 
 tos later on!" 
 
 He loaded me up with my sword and gun 
 and gaiters and all the rest, and together we 
 left the Hotel de Ville; and then went on 
 through one crooked street after another to the 
 little Place du Grand Paradis. Here we en- 
 tered a tidy little house, at the corner of the 
 Rue de la Palapharnerie, and found ourselves in 
 the dark at the foot of a spiral stair. 
 
 "Lazuli! Lazuli!" Vauclair called, but no 
 one answered. "She must be at the club," 
 he said. "No matter, we'll find the door 
 somehow." 
 
 We groped our way up the narrow stairs, 
 where my gun and sword again bothered me, 
 and so to the second floor and into a little 
 room that was kitchen and living-room and 
 bedroom all in one though the bed was hid- 
 den away in an alcove at one side.
 
 96 &l)e ftefcs of 
 
 Vauclair got out the flint and steel and tin- 
 der, and when he had a spark going he started 
 a flame on a sliver of hemp-stalk dipped in 
 sulphur, and with that lighted the candle. All 
 this time he was storming away at his wife. 
 
 " And so Lazuli must needs go to the club," 
 he growled. "I should like to know if clubs 
 are women's business! As if men were not 
 strong enough to defend Holy Liberty and our 
 beautiful Revolution ! " This started him on 
 another tack, and away he went on it: "We 
 must have our Republic. We want it, and 
 we mean to get it. We'll show King Capet, 
 the traitor, that when we ask for figs we won't 
 take thistles. Didn't he try to make us believe 
 that he was on his way to get help for us when 
 we stopped him at the frontier ? And all the 
 while, traitor that he is, he meant to put him- 
 self at the head of the nation's enemies. He is 
 about a span too tall, that rascal King! He 
 needs shortening and if the stomachs of the 
 Paris folks give out in that matter we and the 
 Marseilles Federals will go up and do the work 
 for them. Yes, we'll bleed him finely just 
 under his jowls! And as to his wife, his Aus- 
 trian carrion of a wife, we'll give her a donkey- 
 ride back-foremost as she deserves. She's 
 the real traitor; it's she who's always egging
 
 of ll)* ittiM. 97 
 
 on the King. And then we'll attend to the tail 
 the King drags around after him, the counts 
 and the marquises and the court-followers, 
 and we will shorten every one of them by the 
 same good span!" 
 
 All the time that Vauclair was ranting 
 away, while I was standing stiff and watching 
 him and drinking in his words, he was busy 
 getting the supper ready: setting the little 
 table with three places, getting out a big loaf 
 of bread and a jug of wine, and then bringing 
 from the fire-place an earthen dish in which 
 was simmering gently a most delicious-smell- 
 ing stew. When all was ready he looked into 
 the inner room and then said to me: "Clair- 
 et's asleep; and as to Lazuli, we won't wait 
 for her. Come, sit down and eat your sup- 
 per; and then get to bed and asleep as fast 
 as you can. You'll be started out early to- 
 morrow, you know." 
 
 But just as we were beginning on the 
 bread and stew in came Lazuli, quite excited 
 and very much out of breath. " You mustn't 
 blame me for being late," she said. "Of 
 course you know, you good Vauclair, that I've 
 only been at the club. I've just left there. 
 And you'll never guess what's happened, I'm 
 sure."
 
 98 l)e fleb0 of tl)e IfliM. 
 
 ' ' Then I won't try, " said Vauclair. ' ' What 
 is it ? " 
 
 But instead of answering him Lazuli looked 
 toward me and said: "And so you've got a 
 companion. Isn't it the little mountain boy 
 who was with us on the steps of the Pope's 
 Palace ? And doesn't he make a nice-looking 
 soldier, to be sure ! His coat's a trifle too big 
 for him but I'll fix that in no time. Sit down 
 now, my dear, and you too, Vauclair, and I'll 
 tell you the news." 
 
 "Well, crack away then," said Vauclair, as 
 he helped the stew and then cut a chunk of 
 bread off the loaf for each of us. "What is 
 your news, anyway ? " 
 
 "It's bad news," Lazuli answered. "It's 
 a letter from the Deputy Barbaroux up at Paris 
 to the Federals at Marseilles, his own people. 
 It was read out to us at the club. It says that 
 the Aristos at Paris are having things all their 
 own way. That the King won't allow the 
 battalions of Federals come up from the coun- 
 try to camp inside Paris. That the Paris men 
 are no better than capons and are turning 
 around to the King's side, and that the Na- 
 tional Guard of Paris can't be made to do any- 
 thing because it is rotten to the marrow of its 
 bones. And so Barbaroux says that it's good-
 
 of tl)e 4HiM. 99 
 
 bye to the Revolution unless something is done 
 right off and he says that the Reds of the 
 Midi must do it; that our Federals, our sans- 
 culottes, down here in the South, must get out 
 their swords and their guns and come up to 
 Paris with the war-cry of Liberty or Death! " 
 
 I had taken three or four mugs of wine for 
 I was very thirsty, and as fast as I emptied my 
 rnug Vauclair filled it again and when I heard 
 Liberty or Death ! that way, it was too much 
 for me. " Liberty or Death ! " I cried, standing 
 up and flourishing my knife in the air. "Lib- 
 erty or Death ! That Barbaroux whoever he 
 is is right. / am one of the Reds of the 
 Midi! / am a sans-culotte! / am a Federal 1 
 / am one of those he wants in Paris and I'll 
 go! I'll get my revenge on the Marquis and 
 on Monsieur Robert, and on that devil of a 
 Surto; and I'll revenge the Liberals who were 
 stabbed to death in the hospital, too. Now I 
 understand why my father said that the Mar- 
 quis and Monsieur Robert were going to Paris 
 to help the King. But I'll go there too now 
 that I have a gun. We'll all go there with our 
 guns. Liberty or Death! " 
 
 While I shouted I seemed to see ever so 
 many lighted candles dancing on the tables. 
 Lazuli looked lovelier than the golden angels on
 
 ioo |)e ftcfcs of tlje JJUM. 
 
 the altar of our church at Malemort. Vauclair 
 seemed as tall as one of our poplars on the 
 Nesque and the room seemed to be tipping 
 up on end ! 
 
 "Bravo, bravo!" cried Vauclair. 
 
 "Bravo!" cried the handsome Lazuli. 
 "Thou wilt indeed be a good Patriot! Yes, 
 we'll all go to Paris singing the 'Carmagnole'; 
 and all of us, all the good Patriots, will join 
 hands together and dance around in a great 
 brande! " 
 
 I don't remember well what happened after 
 that. But I know that we three all by our- 
 selves made a brande by joining hands and 
 dancing around the table while we sang at the 
 top of our voices the famous song of the free 
 montagnards about dancing a farandole and 
 planting the wild thyme that grows on the 
 mountains and is the symbol of liberty. 
 
 Planten la ferigoulo, 
 
 Arrapara. 
 
 Fasen la farandoulo 
 E la mountagno flourira, 
 E la mountagno flourira. 
 
 And when the song and our dance was ended, 
 Lazuli led me into the inner room, to the straw 
 bed where her little boy was sleeping, and told 
 me to lie down there. And my head had no
 
 0f tle ittibi. 
 
 more than touched the pillow than I was sleep- 
 ing like a log. 
 
 Old Pascal stopped short and gave La Mie 
 a smack on the shoulder that made her jump. 
 "You're as sleepy as a little cat, yourself," he 
 said. "Get up and go to bed. To-morrow 
 we'll go at the story again." 
 
 The clock in the church steeple began to 
 strike twelve. " Gosh! " cried Lou Materoun, 
 jumping up. "It's midnight! What will my 
 wife say to me ? I'll catch it for a week! " 
 
 "Never mind, Lou Materoun," said La Mie, 
 as she held the light for us in the doorway. 
 "We all know what your wife is. You have 
 a hard road." 
 
 "Viper tongue! " muttered my grandfather 
 as we went off together in the dark.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "THE MARSEILLAISE." 
 
 THE next day, being Sunday, there was no 
 meeting at the shoemaker's; for on Sundays 
 the neighbours spent their time elsewhere. 
 The old and the middle-aged folk went to the 
 Cabaret Nou, where they played a sober game 
 of bourro and drank each one his little jug of 
 white wine. The young and gay-minded folk 
 ostensibly went off for a stroll in the secluded 
 valleys of our mountain, where they surrepti- 
 tiously gambled away their sous in playing a 
 new-fangled game of chance called vendome. 
 And I, who was too little for any such doings, 
 went to bed when night came feeling as flat as 
 a quoit; and saying to myself: "Suppose the 
 shoemaker should take a fancy to make a holi- 
 day of Monday too and shut up his shop! " 
 
 Monday morning early I took the longest 
 
 way to school, so that I might pass in front of 
 
 the shop; and I was greatly reassured and 
 
 heartened when, from a long way off, I saw 
 
 102
 
 Marseillaise. 1 ' 103 
 
 the shutters open and heard the tap-tapping of 
 hammer on sole. "All right!" thought I. 
 "To-night old Pascal will go on with his 
 story." 
 
 That evening, in good time, I was seated 
 on my little bench in the warm little shop 
 which smelt as usual of shoemaker's wax and 
 soaking leather, while overhead floated the 
 usual bluish cloud of pipe-smoke. 
 
 Presently old Pascal stepped over the thresh- 
 old, and without waiting for any one to ask 
 him to begin he broke forth into one of his 
 declamatory chants: 
 
 All laws are the work of the rich for the hurt of the needy; 
 Always the rich have too much, and always the poor have 
 
 too little; 
 And I say that the man who has more than his share is a 
 
 robber! 
 I say that of right belongs bread to him who is faint and 
 
 an-hungered; 
 
 That his is the right to seize it wherever he finds it 
 And the day in which bread is too scarce shall sharp knives 
 
 be too plenty ! 
 
 "What do you mean? What are you 
 driving at with all that gabble, anyway?" 
 spoke up Lou Materoun. 
 
 "What I am driving at," Pascal answered 
 as he sat down, "is to tell you that I can not 
 understand how for century after century men
 
 104 l)e ftebs of tlje ittibi. 
 
 went on starving and took no thought of re- 
 venge. You can not even fancy, you who live 
 now-a-days, what was the lot of a poor man, 
 a man of the people, less than a hundred years 
 ago. But I, who have felt it in my body and 
 who have seen it with my eyes, do know 
 what it was; and that is the life I am telling 
 you about now. And now that you know 
 what I am driving at, I'll go on with my 
 story." 
 
 I went to bed beside Vauclair's little boy 
 and made but one nap of the night, sleeping 
 as sound as a top until morning came. I was 
 tired out, my mind was easy, and I had drunk 
 a good deal of strong wine and all that joined 
 together to give me the blessed soft sleep that 
 does one so much good and that is, perhaps, 
 the best thing in life. 
 
 My sleep had been so deep that at the first 
 flowering of day, when I saw the window-panes 
 whitening with the morning light, it was a little 
 while before I could tell where I was or be 
 sure that all that had passed the day before 
 had not been a dream. But I knew it was no 
 dream when, through the half-opened door- 
 way, I saw Lazuli in the kitchen hard at work 
 needle in hand; a thin fine short needle that
 
 "l)e Marseillaise." 105 
 
 flashed and glanced like a star-ray between her 
 fingers as she busily made over my National 
 Guard coat, spread out upon her knees. 
 
 Vauclair, seated beside her, was cleaning 
 my gun and changing the flint in it; and both 
 of them were as quiet as mice so as not to wake 
 me. But though they said nothing, every now 
 and then Lazuli would turn toward her husband 
 and would show him the coatsleeve with the 
 alterations she had made; and he, with a nod 
 of his head, would answer: "Yes, yes, that's 
 all right." Then Lazuli, biting short the thread 
 with a sharp snap, would go to work again. 
 She ended off by polishing up the buttons 
 the pretty gilt buttons, as bright as those on 
 the coat of Monsieur le Marquis d'Ambrun. 
 
 I couldn't bear to let them think I was still 
 asleep; and, as I did not venture to speak, 1 
 began to cough. 
 
 "Eh," said Vauclair, greatly pleased, "so 
 he's awake " and came on tip-toe to the door 
 of the room ; and when he saw the gleam of 
 my open eyes he added: "Well, bad boy, and 
 so you're already awake. It's a little too 
 early ; but no matter, get up and try on your 
 coat." 
 
 Try on my coat! That made me jump out 
 of bed and into my so longed-for coat in a
 
 106 l)c Ucbs of ll)C 
 
 flash ; and I swore it fitted me like a ring fits 
 the finger. Lazuli, smiling as she looked crit- 
 ically at me, smoothed down the wrinkles 
 with her hand ; for although she had taken it 
 in everywhere it still was big enough for all 
 out of doors! She buttoned it and unbut- 
 toned it. 
 
 "Perhaps I had better take it in a little 
 more under the arms," she said doubtfully. 
 
 "It fits, it fits!" I cried, afraid that she 
 would make me take it off. 
 
 Vauclair, accepting the matter as settled, 
 hung over my shoulders the yellow strap sup- 
 porting my short straight sword shaped ex- 
 actly like the tails of those green crickets which 
 swarm after harvest and as the strap was a 
 large one the sword hung pretty low and 
 banged against my calves. I got into my blue 
 breeches, and buckled on my gaiters which 
 were a little too long and too wide and so came 
 well down over my pretty shoes. As the final 
 touch, Vauclair took up my cap with its red 
 white and blue cockade. He held it open with 
 his outspread fingers and walked solemnly 
 toward me, carrying it in front of him rever- 
 ently as it had been the Host. Still holding it 
 open he fitted it on my head, carefully arrang- 
 ing the tip so that it should fall over just in the
 
 fttaraeiUaise." 107 
 
 way it is represented in the busts of the Re- 
 public. Then he stepped back and gazed at 
 me. Delighted with his work, he clapped his 
 hands as he exclaimed : " There's a sans-culotte 
 fit to fight in the Heavenly Host! There's a 
 fellow to take to Paris when we go to make 
 the King cry mercy ! " 
 
 Lazuli handed me my stuff jacket saying, 
 " Look and see what there is in your pockets." 
 I timidly drew out the letter Monsieur Randoulet 
 had given me for Monsieur le Chanoine Jusse- 
 rand and stuffed it into my coat pocket so as to 
 hide it away ; for the letter made me feel con- 
 fused and ashamed. I did not know exactly 
 why, but it seemed to me as if this bit of paper, 
 which had been my only hope, now might 
 be the cause of my perdition. And yet I could 
 not help valuing it. I felt that I must keep it, 
 so as to touch it from time to time ; for then it 
 would seem as though I touched the soft kind 
 friendly hand of good Monsieur Randoulet. 
 Out of the other pocket I took the three pretty 
 white crowns of three francs each. These I 
 did not wish to keep. I gave them to Lazuli, 
 saying, "Keep them for me, please." And 
 Lazuli, putting them in the little box that held 
 her ornaments and locking them safe in the 
 drawer of her cupboard, answered: "There,
 
 io8 |e flefcs of 
 
 you see where they are when you want them, 
 you have only to ask for them." 
 
 From that day on I became one of the little 
 family in the Place du Grand Paradis. 
 
 I should tire you out were I to tell in detail 
 all that I saw and all that I did during the five 
 or six months that I spent in Avignon. Each 
 day at early morning I was drilled with the 
 others outside the city walls, with street-boys 
 playing tip-cat and old people sunning them- 
 selves around us. By day or by night, in all 
 weathers, 1 took my turn in mounting guard : 
 at the door of the Pope's Palace, in front of the 
 Hotel de Ville, on the banks of the Rhone, at 
 the Escalier de Sainte-Anne, or and this I 
 liked best of all by the semaphore on the top 
 of the Rocher des Doms. Hour after hour I 
 gaped at that semaphore, never tired of watch- 
 ing its two black arms whirling about so 
 strangely up there in the air; arms which shut 
 themselves up, spread out, folded together, un- 
 folded again, and opened and closed like two 
 big razors. 
 
 And I saw good times and bad times, stab- 
 bings and embracings, murders and makings 
 up, excitement and sorrow, sad doings and 
 gay doings, scrimmages, farandoles, and sol- 
 emn processions. Now the deep chant of the
 
 ittarseillaise." 109 
 
 Te Deum rang out, now the gay notes of the 
 "Carmagnole." The De Profundis would be 
 solemnly intoned while the " a ira " was 
 howling out from excited throats. 
 
 Sometimes one party, sometimes the other, 
 would get the upper hand ; one day it was the 
 Reds, the Patriots, another day the Whites, 
 the Anti-Patriots. We often had to hurry to 
 separate them in one or another parish the 
 alarm-bell was ringing all the time. And 
 whenever we came back to barracks from drill 
 or from guard-mount or from quieting a row, 
 whether by day or by night, each man had his 
 little flask of cordial-wine and his three ounces 
 of massopain ; and so wild were the times, so 
 often were we out on service, that we fairly 
 could count on getting our three flasks a day 
 so we were pretty well pampered with our 
 cake and wine. And always in the evenings 
 those of us who were off duty spent our time 
 at the club where we could hear the last 
 news from Paris and Marseilles. 
 
 One day I was stationed at the Porte du 
 Rhone on guard over the Liberty Tree planted 
 there by the Reds, which the Whites from the 
 streets of the Fusterie had tried to pull down. 
 It was about the end of June, right in the 
 midst of the harvest. I am sure of the season
 
 no |je Bcbs of the IHiM. 
 
 because the Liberty Tree was full of cigales, 
 who were making a deafening noise as is 
 their custom in mid-harvest with their song: 
 "Sego, sego, sego! Sickle, sickle, sickle!" 
 I was watching for a chance to catch a cigale 
 for Lazuli's little boy, when suddenly the alarm- 
 bell rang out from the bell-tower of the Augus- 
 tines; and a minute later a man pale as plaster 
 came tearing down the Rue de la Fusterie 
 shouting as he ran: "Save yourselves! Save 
 yourselves! The Marseilles brigands are com- 
 ing! Call home your children! Bar your 
 doors and windows! The robbers and mur- 
 derers and galley-slaves are coming! We're 
 all lost!" and, still shouting, the pale man ran 
 round into the Rue du Limas and disappeared 
 in the direction of the Porte de 1'Oulle. 
 
 It was a sight to see the washwomen, who 
 were at work on the banks of the Rhone, all 
 scamper away! They left behind them their 
 bundles of linen, their shirts outspread to dry. 
 They left aprons, baskets, jugs and buckets. 
 Frightened as though a mad dog were after 
 them, or as if a wild bull had got loose, scream- 
 ing, flourishing their arms, they tore into their 
 houses and for a moment, in the whole 
 quarter of the Porte du Rhone, nothing could 
 be heard but the noise of doors and win-
 
 ic Marseillaise." m 
 
 dows banging to and of clattering bolts and 
 bars! 
 
 But from the other side, that of the Porte 
 de la Ligne, rose up a great clamour of joyous 
 cries and songs : 
 
 Dansons la Carmagnole! 
 Vive le son! Vive le son! 
 
 Then loud hand-clappings and exclamations 
 of joy, and tambourins beginning to beat the 
 farandole; and at the same moment the alarm- 
 bell rang again. 
 
 "Good Heavens !" said I, when the alarm 
 sounded, "I must be off; " and "One! Two!" 
 up went my gun on my shoulder. "Right 
 about, face " and away I went at a quick-step 
 to join the Corps de Garde at the Hotel de 
 Ville. 
 
 What an uproar! The whole Place de 
 I'Horloge, blazing with sunlight, was crammed 
 full of people, all talking and shouting and 
 gesticulating at once; while Vauclair, in front 
 of the Hotel de Ville, was getting into line the 
 men of the Garde Nationale. Drawn together 
 by the sound of the alarm-bell, they were run- 
 ning in from all the streets some of them only 
 partly dressed, their straps thrown over their 
 shoulders, their guns tucked under their arms, 
 
 9
 
 of tlC HUM. 
 
 buttoning their breeches as they ran; and here 
 and there was a running woman carrying her 
 half-breeched husband's gun. 
 
 No one seemed to know what had hap- 
 pened. Some cried: "It's the Whites, the 
 Papalists, come from Carpentras to fight us." 
 Others answered: "No, it's the peasants from 
 Gadagne who have risen against their lord and 
 are bringing him here a prisoner." I could 
 make nothing of what I heard' as I pressed 
 through the crowd to take my place in line. 
 Vauclair, who was the sergeant on guard that 
 day, saw me coming and called out sharply : 
 " Why are you so behindhand ? Hurry, hurry! 
 Lord's Law, man, hurry!" 
 
 "What's it all about ? " I asked as I fell in. 
 
 "What's it all about ?" repeated Vauclair. 
 "It is that the King of France is a traitor!" 
 and turning toward the crowd and brandish- 
 ing his long sabre he cried loudly: " We are 
 betrayed by our King!" And then, speak- 
 ing to us of the Guard, he went on: "The 
 Marseilles Battalion, on its way to Paris, passes 
 through Avignon. We are going now to wel- 
 come these brave Federals Vive la Nation ! " 
 
 " Vive la Nation! " answered the Guard. 
 
 " Vive la Nation! " rose up the voice of the 
 swarming crowd in a formidable shout.
 
 113 
 
 And then came: "Forward, march!" and 
 off we started for the Porte du Limbert, all of 
 us roaring together : 
 
 Dance we the Carmagnole, 
 
 Hurrah for the roar, the roar, the roar! 
 
 Dance we the Carmagnole, 
 
 Hurrah for the roar the cannon roar! 
 
 Men, women, children, old and young, with 
 one voice joined in the chorus "Dansons la 
 Carmagnole ! " The windows fairly rattled as 
 we swept along. 
 
 In the narrow streets of the Bonneterie and 
 of the. Water-wheels there must have been at 
 least ten thousand people packed so tight that 
 they were fairly one on top of the other; and 
 when those near the Porte du Limbert were at 
 "Dansons la Carmagnole! " from the other end, 
 up near the Rue Rouge, rang out the words 
 " Vive le son du canon!" Mixed in with the 
 words of the chorus were shouts of "Vive la 
 Nation ! " and ' ' Vive les Marseillais ! " The con- 
 fusion and uproar were overpowering. When 
 I looked backward I could see nothing but 
 open mouths, and eyes starting out of heads 
 that touched each other. 
 
 When this torrent of humanity had poured 
 itself out of the porch of the Porte du Limbert 
 we of the Guard ranged ourselves outside the
 
 ii4 l)e Uebs of tl)C .fttibi. 
 
 ramparts in two lines facing inward, ready to 
 present arms to the Marseilles Battalion when 
 it should pass between our files; and scarcely 
 were we halted and in line when a swarm 
 of children came running toward us from the 
 Chemin de la Coupe d'Or screaming: "Here 
 they are! Here they are! " 
 
 And then around the turn of the road, brave 
 in their red-plumed cocked-hats, appeared 
 Commandant Moisson and Captain Gamier. 
 On seeing us they drew their long sickle-like 
 sabres, faced about upon the Battalion, and 
 cried: "Vive la Nation!" and instantly the 
 men fell into marching-step and all together 
 burst forth with 
 
 Allons enfants de la Patrie, 
 Le jour de gloire est arrive! 
 
 It was the " Marseillaise " that they were sing- 
 ing; and that glorious hymn, heard then for the 
 first time, stirred us down to the very marrow 
 of our bones! 
 
 On they came a big fellow carrying at 
 their head a banner on which was painted in 
 red letters : " The Rights of Man " ; and if any 
 person looked askance at that banner the big 
 fellow seized him in a moment and made him 
 kiss it on his knees! On they came we pre-
 
 Marseillaise." 115 
 
 sented arms and they passed between our files, 
 still singing the "Marseillaise." 
 
 Oh what a sight it was! Five hundred 
 men sun-burnt as locust-beans, with black 
 eyes blazing like live coals under bushy eye- 
 brows all white with the white dust of the 
 road. They wore green cloth coats turned 
 back with red, like mine; but farther than that 
 their uniform did not go. Some had on cocked 
 hats with waving cock's feathers, some red 
 liberty-caps with the strings flying back over 
 their shoulders and the tri-colour cockade 
 perched over one ear. Each man had stuck in 
 the barrel of his gun a willow or a poplar 
 branch to shelter him from the sun, and all this 
 greenery cast warm dancing shadows over 
 their faces that made the look of them still 
 more fantastic and strange. And when from 
 all those red mouths wide open as a wolf's 
 jaws, with teeth gleaming white like a wild 
 beast's teeth burst forth the chorus " Aux 
 armes, citoyens! " it fairly made a shiver run all 
 down one's spine! Two drums marked step 
 Pran! rran! rran! " Aliens enfants de la Pa- 
 trie!" The whole Battalion passed onward 
 and was swallowed up in the city gate. 
 
 As it disappeared we heard a strange noise 
 like the clanking of chains or the rattle of loose
 
 u6 <!)< ftefcs of tlje JttiM. 
 
 iron; and then came four men hauling after 
 them a rusty truck on which was a cannon. 
 These men were harnessed to the truck as are 
 oxen to the plough, and like oxen pulled from 
 head and shoulders. With every muscle at 
 full stretch, and with sweat dripping from 
 them like rain, they bent forward with all their 
 might to their heavy task. Rumble and bang 
 went the truck over the cobble-stones and 
 into the ruts, making a tremendous noise as it 
 jolted up and down and from side to side. 
 Following this truck came another and still 
 another; the last having on it an immense 
 pair of bellows, a big wooden tub full of 
 clay, a great thing that looked like a caul- 
 dron, and pincers, hammers and tongs. This 
 was the forge for the repair of the guns, for 
 the casting of balls, and for heating balls red 
 hot before they should be fired. It took more 
 than four men to drag this great mass all 
 straining forward like beasts of burden, the 
 sinews of their calves starting and their feet so 
 gripping the street that the nails in their shoes 
 struck out sparks from the stones. Gasping 
 though they were for breath, and almost 
 spent with weariness, yet they too as they 
 passed through our ranks raised their heads 
 and with hoarse strangled voices shouted
 
 117 
 
 with the clipped Marseilles accent: "Vivo la 
 Nacien!" 
 
 The blaze and glitter of sunshine, the 
 whirlwinds of dust, the smell of t hot human 
 flesh, the rattle of drums, the clanking of iron, 
 the singing and shouting all this so dazed and 
 transported me, so carried me away, that I, 
 Pascal, though I knew not why, felt tears as 
 big as filberts rolling down my cheeks as I pre- 
 sented arms! 
 
 When in the wake of the Battalion the 
 cannon and forge had passed by us, we came 
 to a shoulder, closed up, and fell in at the rear. 
 Far off ahead the rattling drums beat the quick- 
 step; the Marseilles men sang " Allons enfants 
 de la Patrie " ; and we and all the crowd joined 
 in the chorus that we already had picked up: 
 " Aux armes, citoyens! " 
 
 Our backward line of march was through 
 the street of the Water-wheels, the Place du 
 Change, under the walls of the Palace of the 
 Popes, and so into the Rue de la Banasterie to 
 the Place du Grand Paradis where the Patriots 
 had their club in what had been the chapel of 
 the Violet Penitents. But as we were turning 
 the corner by the Rue des Encans we were 
 stopped short, and around us we heard the 
 people exclaiming that there was a halt ahead
 
 ii 8 J)e ftcfts of tt)e ittiM. 
 
 that no one could understand. Some said that 
 a Papalist had stabbed the Marseilles Com- 
 mandant. Under Vauclair's command, a dozen 
 of us pushed rapidly through the crowd to find 
 out what was the matter, and to do what- 
 ever might be necessary to restore order. The 
 trouble proved to be around the banner of The 
 Rights of Man. 
 
 In the narrowest part of the Rue Sainte 
 Catherine the procession had met, returning 
 from his vesper service at the Carmelites, an 
 old Canon followed by his old serving- woman ; 
 and when the lean old Canon saw the banner 
 he turned up his nose at it and drew to a point 
 his ill-natured muzzle in open contempt; and, 
 worse than this, he actually cleared his throat 
 and spit right at the feet of the b'anner-bearer! 
 Furious at seeing the New Law so despised, its 
 apostle had caught the poor old Canon by the 
 nape of his neck, had forced him down to his 
 knees on the stones and, thrusting the banner 
 against his face, had tried to make him kiss it 
 by force ; but old skin-and-bones had struggled 
 hard against this humiliation, and his servant 
 had come screaming and scratching to his aid. 
 The crowd shouted: "To the Rhone with the 
 Papalist!" "To the Rhone with the Anti- 
 Patriot!"
 
 "fl)e Marseillaise." 119 
 
 Just as we came on the ground the Federal 
 snatched up the Canon, who was as dry as a 
 whip-handle, and tucked him under his arm 
 kicking and struggling, with legs and arms 
 outspread like a frog in a heron's beak. Then 
 the drums took up the march, and again rang 
 out "Aliens enfants de la Patrie!" The Fed- 
 eral marched off in front, one arm holding up 
 his banner, the kicking Canon gripped fast 
 under the other like a bundle of foolishness, 
 and after him the old servant who hung on 
 with all her might to her master, trying to set 
 him free. Why that dried up old man did not 
 snap like a pipe-stem between them, I am sure 
 I don't know! 
 
 And who was the most astonished person 
 of all there ? Why I for the old Canon was 
 none other than Monsieur Jusserand, to whom 
 Monsieur Randoulet had given me the letter; 
 and the old serving-woman was the very 
 woman who had torn off my cockade the day 
 I knocked at his door in the Rue du Limas! 
 
 On we went until we 'entered the club- 
 room that had been the chapel of the Violet 
 Penitents. There the Federal dumped the 
 Canon on what had been the steps of the main 
 altar, and then he and Commandant Moisson 
 and Vauclair all sat down on the altar table
 
 120 l)e ftebs of ll)e ittibi. 
 
 with their legs dangling in a row. We of the 
 Guard, with a few Avignon Patriots, formed 
 our line to keep the crowd back while they 
 spoke; and there was such pushing and strug- 
 gling to get into the little chapel that its walls 
 fairly shook and all the while the drums went 
 on beating and thousands of voices sang, or 
 rather howled : "Auxarmes, citoyens!" 
 
 The Federal who carried the banner of The 
 Rights of Man stood up on the altar a great 
 long man, as thin as Pontius Pilate and he 
 was a sight to behold standing there in his hob- 
 nailed shoes, his bare calves, his coat entirely 
 too tight for him, and his bristling beard pow- 
 dered white with road-dust! He took off his 
 hat and feather and roughly stuck it on the 
 bald pate of poor Canon Jusserand, who was 
 crouched on the altar steps all in a heap, more 
 dead than alive. Wiping his forehead with 
 his coat sleeve, the Federal made a sign that he 
 was going to read The Rights of Man. The 
 drums stopped beating and a great silence fell 
 over all; and then the Federal, with his mincing 
 Marseilles accent, read out to us the New Law : 
 
 All men are born free, and the birth-rights of all men are 
 equal. 
 
 All alike make the laws; all alike are the rulers and gov- 
 erned.
 
 iJlarsnllaise." 121 
 
 Broken the chains are, wide open the doors of the prisons. 
 Masters exist not. No more are there slaves to be burthened. 
 Each man has his share of the earth that begot and will 
 
 claim him; 
 Each man sows his crop, and each sower shall garner his 
 
 harvest. 
 In all things to all men is freedom in acts and in thoughts 
 
 and convictions. 
 
 Ended the day is of King and of Marquis and lordling. 
 Who aforetime toiled mole-like in darkness at will of his 
 
 masters 
 Stands erect in the light, and is governed alone by his 
 
 reason. 
 Vive la Nation! 
 
 Then the Federal got down from the altar, 
 seized the Canon by the throat, and this time 
 fairly forced the banner to his lips. But the 
 old stock-fish, who was not of the sort to stay 
 conquered, no sooner felt himself let loose 
 again than with a look of contempt he once 
 more spat against the banner and so pretty 
 well cancelled his kiss. At this fresh insult 
 the big Federal was quite beside himself with 
 rage. Like a flash he pounced upon the Canon, 
 held him for a moment by the scruff of his 
 neck and the folds of his long gown, and then 
 with a tremendous kick sent him flying over 
 the heads of those nearest the altar into the 
 thick of the crowd. There was a shout of 
 satisfaction, and then away went the Canon
 
 122 |)e ttefcs of ll)e 4JUM. 
 
 through the air from one pair of hands to an- 
 other: now right side forward, now hind part 
 before, now spinning around and around. 
 And so like a plank in the Rhone, whirling 
 in the eddies but always going forward he 
 was flung hither and thither over the upturned 
 faces until at last he was shot out of the door. 
 And I must tell you, strange though it may 
 seem, that seeing him thus abused hurt me in 
 my heart because I still had in my pocket 
 that letter to him from good Monsieur Randou- 
 let, and I felt as though an affront had been 
 put upon bur good Cure at Malemort. 
 
 What became of the Canon I don't know. 
 No one paid any more attention to him; for at 
 that moment Vauclair stood up on the altar 
 and began to read out in order to make the 
 people more clearly understand how good and 
 great was the cause of the Revolution the 
 laws and ordinances with which the Pope's 
 Vice Legate so long had tied down and muzzled 
 the people of Avignon : 
 
 The poor man may moan, but the poor man must pay, 
 Or he goes and he rots on the galley bench 
 While he who carries or pistol or dagger 
 Will have a hemp necklace about his throat. 
 Whoso speaks of the Legate or the Legate's affairs, 
 If not by the Legate condemned to die, 
 Ten years in the galleys with robbers spends.
 
 iHarseiUaise." 123 
 
 The man who cries "Rescue!" or "To arms!", or who 
 
 dares 
 
 By a picture or a carving to offend the Legate, 
 Will lose his life and forfeit his goods! 
 
 "Oh come now, you can't mean us to be- 
 lieve all that," exclaimed Lou Materoun; who, 
 unable to keep his feelings to himself, broke 
 into old Pascal's chanted recital. 
 
 "Then I'm a liar, am I ?" snorted old Pas- 
 cal; and he glared so savagely at Lou Materoun 
 that the big man, too abashed to venture upon 
 an answer, made himself as small as he could on 
 the bench and with eyes downcast flicked the 
 ashes off his pipe on the floor between his knees. 
 
 " It is so true," said Pascal, pacified by Lou 
 Materoun's meekness, "that I could show it to 
 you printed in a book. I have heard many of 
 these laws and ordinances, and I cannot re- 
 member them all; but some of them I do re- 
 member and they were the laws, mark you, 
 of my own time. It was forbidden to go out 
 after the curfew had rung; and whosoever 
 broke this law, and also carried with him a 
 dark-lantern, was liable to have all his joints 
 pulled apart in the strappado three times run- 
 ning or he might even be outlawed from the 
 Comtat, at the Vice Legate's will. It was for- 
 bidden to compose, to write, to sing or to
 
 124 $l)e Ueb0 of 
 
 cause to be sung, any songs that had anything 
 whatever to do with politics; and whoever 
 broke this law might be sent for ten years to 
 the galleys and might have confiscated the half 
 of his estates." 
 
 " Whew! " exclaimed the cobbler. " That 
 wasn't anybody's twenty sous fine as it is 
 now-a-days." 
 
 Pascal continued: "And what will you all 
 say when I tell you that did the Vice Legate 
 still reign we all could be taken out and strung 
 up in a row for the crime of assembling here 
 together ? Such was the law to which always 
 was added : ' If it be the good pleasure of the 
 Legate ' ! " 
 
 ''Lord alive!" put in Lou Materoun, this 
 time flicking off his ashes properly into the 
 coal-tub, "I'm glad I waited a while before I 
 was born ! And do you mean to say that just 
 for sitting together this way in company the 
 Pope's soldiers could have come in and jugged 
 us ? Then in those days men were not men ? " 
 
 "They were men, as thou and I are men," 
 answered Pascal. ' ' But enough of that those 
 times are gone! " 
 
 Well, when Vauclair had finished reading 
 out the Vice Legate's Laws, the crowd went
 
 125 
 
 hoarse with its shouting of "Vive la Nation! 
 Vive la Revolution!" The women huck- 
 sters, washwomen, silkweavers all with 
 Catalan caps and tricolour cockades, were 
 more wildly excited and made more noise than 
 the men. They yelled, they screamed and 
 many of them flung themselves on the neck of 
 the big Federal who carried The Rights of Man 
 and fairly suffocated him with kisses. 
 
 In the thick of this confusion a big coarse 
 woman, a tripe-seller called La Jacarasse, came 
 rushing forward her hair streaming loose over 
 her shoulders, her cap awry and its untied 
 strings flying behind her carrying in one hand 
 a long knife and in the other a big bag of 
 coarsely woven straw. She climbed to the 
 top of the altar like a wild-cat, making a great 
 display of stockingless legs, and when she had 
 scrambled to her feet she flourished her knife 
 and bag screaming: " You see this here knife ? 
 For fifty years it has ripped up pigs last year 
 it ripped up that cursed jade of an Aristocrat 
 who jabbed her scissors into Patriot Lescuyer's 
 face when the Papalists were killing him in the 
 church of the Cordeliers. You see this here 
 bag ? In it I carried her liver and lights and 
 hung 'em on the latch of the Vice Legate's 
 palace same as the old devil did himself with
 
 i26 |)e ftebs of tlje Jttibi. 
 
 the innards of Patriots he'd ordered killed." 
 And then, turning to the Federal who was 
 holding the banner of The Rights of Man, she 
 plumped two big kisses on his cheeks. The 
 crowd applauded loudly; and "Vive la Na- 
 tion!" shouted the Federal but holding his 
 nose, for the tripe-woman smelt vilely of her 
 trade. 
 
 The drums rolled again and Vauclair stood 
 up straight in the very place where the taber- 
 nacle had been, and cried out as he flourished 
 his hat on the tip of his sabre: "To defend 
 The Rights of Man and to drag down the ty- 
 rant, I enroll myself as a volunteer in the Mar- 
 seilles Battalion! " 
 
 In a moment we all were crazy with en- 
 thusiasm, the drums rattled their approval as 
 if they would burst, every arm was waving in 
 the air, the Marseilles men shrieked "Long 
 live the Avignon Patriots ! " and in turn we 
 shrieked "Long live the Marseilles Federals!" 
 That was too much for me! For a moment 
 everything went spinning around and around; 
 and then, without at all knowing how I did it, 
 I suddenly found myself standing on top of the 
 altar, my red cap hoisted on top of my gun, 
 screaming at the top of my voice: "Death to 
 the tyrant! I too volunteer into the Marseilles
 
 127 
 
 Battalion!" And Zou! the drums, and Zou! 
 the shrieks "Vive les Patriotes ! " "Vive les 
 Federes ! " 
 
 Far up in a corner of the chapel I caught 
 sight of Lazuli, her little boy up on her shoul- 
 der, both clapping hands and screaming: 
 "Bravo, Pascalet! Bravo!" As I pitched 
 down from the altar Commandant Moisson 
 caught me in his arms, and with a kiss on each 
 cheek accepted my enlistment among his Mar- 
 seillais. And then, louder than ever, rattlety- 
 bang went the drums! 
 
 The meeting was over. Some good Pa- 
 triots, they were porters down by the river 
 gates, called out: "To the Porte de la Ligne! 
 There is cool wine there! " 
 
 "To the Porte de la Ligne! To the Porte 
 de la Ligne!" shouted the crowd; and the 
 Battalion, falling into line and followed by the 
 cannon and the forge, went down to the 
 Rhone where there was enough bread and 
 wine and olives and nuts and garlic for all the 
 world! We ate, drank, sang and danced I 
 don't know how long. The great heat of the 
 day was over, and the tambourins untiringly 
 beat the farandole. But I was so stuck up 
 with being enrolled in the Marseilles Battalion 
 that I felt bound to behave like a grown man.
 
 ftebs of the fttibi. 
 
 I scorned dance and song and victuals; I went 
 swaggering from one group to another; I talked 
 to the Marseilles men and made acquaintance 
 with them, drinking a glass with one and 
 touching cups with another. 
 
 But one thing bothered me dreadfully I 
 was so very young! Those to whom I spoke 
 said: " Good for you, little cock! What's your 
 name?" and then every one of them added: 
 "How old are you?" I answered them all 
 bravely, trying to mince my words as they 
 did: "My name's Pascalet, I must be more 
 than sixteen years old " and in order to look 
 the age I gave myself I stood up as straight 
 as I could on my toes. I felt and felt the cor- 
 ners of my mouth. But my moustache couldn't 
 be made to sprout by feeling for it. There 
 wasn't a single hair! However, as the mous- 
 tache was impossible, I tried my best in other 
 ways to look like the men of the Battalion. I 
 stuck a bit of willow in the muzzle of my gun; 
 and in order to be as grimy as possible I dragged 
 my feet in the dust. Had I dared. I would have 
 rolled over and over in the road ! 
 
 Suddenly I realized that it was a long time 
 since I had seen Vauclair, and I wondered 
 where he could be. While I was hunting for 
 him, forcing my way as well as I could through
 
 JttarseiUuise." 129 
 
 the closely pressed throng, 1 heard just behind 
 me the lively cracking of a whip and the jin- 
 gling of bells ; and as 1 turned I saw a two-horse 
 carriage struggling to get through the crowd. 
 It already was so close upon me that I could 
 feel the horses' noses sniffling on the back of 
 my neck; and in a hurry, with the others, I 
 stood aside to let it pass. 
 
 But, Saints above ! what did I see ? It was 
 the carriage of Monsieur le Marquis ! Big Surto. 
 in coachman's dress, was driving; and, still 
 stranger, there beside him on the box was my 
 father, my poor old father! His face still was 
 marked with the weals of the whip-strokes; 
 he was bunched together all of a heap, looking 
 sick and poor and thin, and so frightened at all 
 the crowd of dancing and singing soldiers that 
 to see him hurt my heart. But at the sight of 
 big Surto's hard face I trembled all over and 
 was dumbfoundered. The carriage rolled softly 
 along, and inside I saw the Marquise Adelaide, 
 pretty Adeline with her gentle eyes, and Mon- 
 sieur Robert; and down in one corner, looking 
 no bigger than an onion, was Monsieur le Mar- 
 quis d'Ambrun. I looked again toward the 
 box so as to be certain that it was my father I 
 had seen, and my eyes met wicked Surto's 
 wolf's eyes which plunged into me like two
 
 of 
 
 knives and seemed to say: "I've got you this 
 time, sure!" 
 
 The carriage passed, and the crowd surged 
 together behind it and went on with the faran- 
 dole and dance. But I, thunderstruck, did not 
 know of what wood to make arrows. 
 
 It was against all sense of right to let my 
 father go that way without speaking to him. 
 But I knew that if I went to him I was lost: 
 big Surto's eyes had told me that only too 
 plainly. And yet my father! A sob came 
 up into my throat! Not knowing what to do, 
 I started off again in search of Vauclair. With 
 him to back me I feared no one; with him I 
 could go to see my old father and be sure that 
 Surto would do me no harm. I searched and 
 searched; but Vauclair was nowhere to be 
 found and as I stood on tip-toe to see if I 
 could catch a glimpse of his red plume over the 
 heads of the crowd a heavy hand dropped on 
 my shoulder with a nip like a vice. 
 
 I turned it was Surto ! As soon as he had 
 taken the carriage out of the press he had given 
 the reins to Monsieur Robert and, bringing my 
 simple-hearted father with him, had come after 
 me instantly so that I should not escape him 
 again. I tried to wriggle out of his clutch, but 
 his fingers were iron hooks strong enough to
 
 131 
 
 break my shoulder. "Come along," said he. 
 "Come before the Commantant. Your farder 
 is going to take you back home." 
 
 "I won't go," I cried. "I am free. I've 
 enlisted as a volunteer! " and again 1 tried to 
 break away. But Surto dragged me off by 
 main force; while my old father limped along 
 behind us, muttering: "Yes, yes, you good- 
 for-nothing boy, you must come home. Mon- 
 sieur le Marquis has said so and that set- 
 tles it." 
 
 Commandant Moisson was not far off; and 
 seeing that there was a disturbance of some 
 sort he called out, " What is the matter ? " and 
 came toward Surto. 
 
 "The matter is that this rascal has been 
 playing truant; and his old farder here vants 
 to make him go home, vere his old mother is 
 crying her eyes out because he has run 
 avay." 
 
 The Commandant frowned at me sternly. 
 "You little scamp," said he "is this the way 
 young fellows like you treat the old folks now- 
 a-days ? Go home, the Nation does not need 
 you yet; go home with your father who does 
 need you now. Later, when there is a little 
 more hair on your chin, you shall enlist with 
 us for good and all." So saying he turned on
 
 i3 2 b* Hebs of Itye fttiM. 
 
 his heel without giving me a chance to say a 
 word. My father bowed deeply to his disap- 
 pearing back, and in another moment big 
 Surto was dragging me brutally out of the 
 crowd going at such a pace that my father 
 could hardly keep up with us. 
 
 I felt that I was lost. Vauclair, who knew 
 all my story, could have saved me; but Vau- 
 clair had returned to the house to prepare for 
 our march to Paris, and was beyond all call. 
 If only I had had my gun or my sword! But 
 both were stacked up with the arms of the 
 Battalion against the ramparts. Alone, un- 
 armed, my heart failed me under Surto's claws; 
 and I let myself be dragged on, more dead than 
 alive, while I looked around vainly for Vau- 
 clair's red plume. Soon we were far away 
 from the scene of the festival. We pushed 
 through the quarters of the Anti-Patriots and 
 reached the Rue de la Violette, on which 
 was the palace of Monsieur le Marquis d'Am- 
 brun. The carriage was there in the middle 
 of the court-yard ; where the servants, instead 
 of unloading the baggage, were piling things 
 into it under the orders of Monsieur Robert and 
 Mademoiselle Adeline. When Monsieur Rob- 
 ert saw me brought in, dragged along like 
 some wild beast, he sneered and said: " Now
 
 133 
 
 we've got the little villain ! Zou down with 
 him into the vault and let him stay there! " 
 
 My father stepped forward and as usual 
 fell on his knees and kissed that monster's 
 hand. 
 
 When Mademoiselle Adeline heard what 
 her brother said she clasped her hands and 
 turned her head aside so as not to see me; and 
 I understood that though she was sorry for me 
 she did not dare to speak. 
 
 The end of all now seemed very near to me. 
 We came into the hall, in the middle of which 
 was an open trap-door showing a dark stair- 
 case leading to the cellar; and as Surto dragged 
 me down those stairs I heard Monsieur Robert 
 saying to my father: "Well, you've seen your 
 good-for-nothing scamp of a son. You thought 
 he was with Monsieur le Chanoine Jusserand, 
 to whom Monsieur. le Cure had sent him with 
 a letter of recommendation ; but the scorpion 
 preferred living with murderers. You saw 
 him dressed up in his robber's clothes! " 
 
 Down at the end of the cellar was the 
 vault. Surto drew the bolts, opened the door, 
 and pitched me into the dark hole saying as 
 he did so: " Starf in there! When you get 
 hungry, eat one hand and keep the other for 
 breakfast next day!"
 
 134 l)e Hebe of ttye HUM. 
 
 Although I felt that I was lost, I tried to 
 plead with him; but the beast, twirling me 
 around as if to get a chance to kick the bones 
 out of me, said stuttering with anger: "You 
 little tamn rascal ! I know vat a snake's tongue 
 you haf ! You haf see too much ! Suppose 
 you toldt vat you see in the hospital, or vat 
 you see unter that pig oak ! You understand!, 
 hey ? Veil, down there you haf to keep your 
 tongue insidt your teeth! " 
 
 As I went pitching into the darkness he 
 slammed fast the door of the vault, and I heard 
 him shoot the bolt outside. Then 1 heard him 
 go up stairs, and I heard the trap-door fall with 
 a bang like a cannon shot. I was left alone in 
 the blackness, the silence and the chill of death. 
 
 There was no one to rescue me. My own 
 father had betrayed and sold me, had consented 
 to my death. No, that was impossible. He 
 could not in the least have understood the harm 
 that he was doing me. He, poor unfortunate 
 wretch, with his face all scarred with the marks 
 of the Count's whip, still knelt and kissed the 
 Count's hand. Oh, to think of those scars, 
 and not to be able to avenge them ! Then I 
 thought and thought over what Surto had said 
 about what I had seen under the big oak at La 
 Garde. But what had I ever seen under that
 
 135 
 
 oak that should make him want to shut me up 
 there so as to keep my tongue behind my 
 teeth ? Suddenly, in a flash, it all came back 
 to me and I understood. 
 
 One day, long, long before, I had climbed 
 to the top of that oak to get at a bird's nest 
 with some beautiful nestlings; and I was in 
 the midst of putting the little birds into my 
 cap when down under the tree 1 heard voices. 
 Spreading myself flat along the branch and 
 looking down, I saw big Surto with Madame 
 la Marquise. They were holding each other's 
 hands and talking most earnestly. As they 
 separated, one to go one way and one the 
 other, I heard Surto say: "No fear, we'll get 
 rid of thy little Marquis! I swear I'll shoot 
 him the first day when we are hunting together 
 that 1 get the chance;" and the Marquise an- 
 swered: "Act quickly, and when the chance 
 comes shoot true! " These words fairly made 
 my flesh creep. I flattened myself still closer 
 against my branch and waited until they both, 
 as I thought, were out of the way before I came 
 down. Unluckily I didn't wait long enough. 
 Surto, though a good way off, still was in sight ; 
 and what was more he happened to look back 
 in the instant that I was sliding down the trunk 
 to the ground. I ran like a rabbit into the
 
 136 l]e Uebs of tfye Xllibi. 
 
 thick wood, and I thought at the time that he 
 did not know who it was; but I was mistaken 
 and I suppose that from that moment he was 
 bent upon my death. And so I fairly had played 
 into his hands, by giving him a good open ex- 
 cuse for killing me, when I threw the rock on 
 Monsieur Robert's toes. 
 
 I was in the midst of these thoughts and 
 recollections when I heard rats running over 
 broken bottles piled up in one corner of the 
 vault. Broken glass! Oh, what good luck! 
 At least I would not have to die of hunger I 
 could cut open my four veins. I groped my 
 way toward the corner, and at each step a 
 spider's web brushed across my face; they 
 were so thick that the spiders must have been 
 left alone there to spin them for years and for 
 years. I reached the broken bottles, and was 
 feeling around among them for a sharp pointed 
 bit that would do the work well when 1 heard 
 a sound as if the trap was being raised. I held 
 my breath; and then I clearly heard footsteps 
 outside the door of the vault. It doesn't seem 
 reasonable, but I who at that very moment 
 was trying to find something to kill myself 
 with, began to tremble so that my teeth chat- 
 tered; for I was sure it was Surto coming back 
 to knock me on the head. I didn't mind dying
 
 137 
 
 so much ; but I did mind dying by that mon- 
 ster's hands and above all without struggling; 
 without making him pay for my death. I 
 picked up the first bottle-shard that my hand 
 found, and with set teeth faced the door; ready 
 to spring on the wretch and bury my teeth in 
 his neck and the bit of glass in his side. And 
 then the bolt squeaked and the door opened 
 wide. 
 
 Oh how dazzled I was! 
 
 With a little lamp in her hand, a blue hood 
 on her head, I saw gentle Adeline whose first 
 words were : ' ' Hush, Pascalet ! where are you ? 
 I have come to save you." 
 
 "You, Adeline! Oh have mercy on me. 
 Don't give me up to your game-keeper. He 
 will kill me! " and I fell at her feet. 
 
 "Never, my good little Pascalet. It is just 
 the contrary I have come to save you from that 
 wicked man. Follow me and do not speak. 
 I will get you away out of this house and 
 may God keep you from ever falling again into 
 big Surto's claws. He is now in the garden, 
 digging your grave ; for he has sworn that be- 
 fore day dawns he'll break your neck and bury 
 you. Come!" 
 
 I followed her quickly up the stairway, into 
 the hall, and then out by a door so heavy that
 
 138 l)c Eefcs of tlje ittibi. 
 
 we both together had to pull to open it into 
 the chicken-yard. Once there, Adeline said 
 to me: " Get over that wall and you are in the 
 street." Mademoiselle Adeline actually tried 
 to drag out for me the chicken-house ladder. 
 Her utmost efforts could not stir it from its 
 place and while she was tugging away at it 
 with her delicate little hands I, active as a 
 marten, was on top of the wall. And then I 
 am ashamed to tell it 1, rough and coarse as 
 barley-bread, had never a word of thanks for 
 her, but just dropped down into the street and 
 tore off as fast as I could toward the Place du 
 Grand Paradis. 
 
 At that time of night Avignon was as silent 
 and as lonely as a graveyard. The full moon 
 was pouring bucketsful of light on one side of 
 the narrow street, and casting on the other side 
 a black shadow so thick that hidden in it you 
 couldn't tell a horse from a man. Buried in 
 the shadow, I ran onward taking care to keep 
 clear of the Papalist quarter and not until I 
 came near the end of the Rue des Encans did 
 I hear a sound. Then, as I turned the corner 
 into the Rue Sainte Catherine, I heard coming 
 toward me the trampling of feet. 
 
 "Heavens!" I thought, "maybe it's the 
 Papalist patrol!" and 1 hid myself in a deep
 
 139 
 
 doorway where the shadow was as thick as 
 a fog. 
 
 The sounds came nearer and nearer, while 
 I stood there trembling; and at last it seemed 
 to me a long while the group came abreast 
 of me and then safely passed me by. But 
 though they did not see me in the shadow, I 
 saw them clearly in the bright moonlight. At 
 the head walked a big thick woman, striding 
 along like a man and carrying in one hand a 
 long knife and in the other a bag. Behind her 
 came three masked men, carrying between 
 them another man bound and gagged a poor 
 wretch who from time to time kicked and 
 struggled and tried vainly to get free; and each 
 time that he fell to wriggling and plunging, 
 and the little procession halted until his bearers 
 could hold him fast again, the woman turned 
 around and cried in a harsh voice: "That's 
 right, kick away ! Kick as much as you please ! 
 You can't get loose and I'm going to rip 
 your bowels out before we throw you into the 
 Rhone!" 
 
 It was La Jacarasse, the tripe- woman, who 
 was taunting the helpless man with these 
 blood-curdling words; and I could hear her 
 keeping on in the same fashion until she and 
 the masks and their prisoner disappeared
 
 ftebs of tl)e ittibi. 
 
 around the next turn. They went on into the 
 Rue de la Banasterie, toward the Porte de la 
 Ligne and as soon as they were out of sight 
 I took to my heels again and in another minute 
 I was at our own door. Jacquemart was 
 pounding midnight on his bell, and yet there 
 still was a light in the window of our room. I 
 knocked and called as loudly as I dared: " La- 
 zuli! Lazuli! It is I! " 
 
 "Can it be Pascalet ? Yes, it is his voice! " 
 I heard Lazuli cry, and then I heard her hurry- 
 ing down the stairs as if on wings. 
 
 The key turned and the door flew open. 
 As soon as Lazuli saw me she caught me close 
 in her arms and kissed me a dozen times. 
 " Where have you been ? What has happened 
 to you ?" she exclaimed. " I don't know how 
 many patrols I've sent hunting for you all 
 through Avignon." And as we went up the 
 stairs together to our room she continued: 
 " Vauclair left with the Battalion. He told me 
 that as soon as you got back I was to send you 
 after him on the road to Paris. Oh Pascalet, 
 my pretty boy, I began to fear you were lost! " 
 and then she threw her arms around me and 
 kissed me again and again. 
 
 I was greatly surprised arid confused and 
 delighted. I hardly could tell whether I was
 
 141 
 
 asleep or awake. I knew nothing of caresses; 
 and these, the first I ever had felt, seemed 
 strangely sweet to me. Lazuli's hearty kisses 
 as she pressed my face against her warm bosom 
 moved me curiously. Not to be rude, as I had 
 been to Mademoiselle Adeline, I gave back kiss 
 for kiss and hug for hug and felt I never could 
 weary of so giving and taking. Often had 
 I spent hours gazing at her, thinking how 
 pretty she was and how everything she did 
 was well done. Sometimes as she passed near 
 me I had ventured to touch her skirt ; and the 
 touch had sent a thrill through all my veins. 
 Lazuli's voice was honey-sweet, and when she 
 looked on me with her lovely kind eyes her 
 glance seemed a caress in itself. Innocent as 
 a new-born babe in all such love matters, I 
 didn't understand what I felt. Probably La- 
 zuli had some notion of it. At any rate, she 
 soon stopped petting me, pushed me away, 
 and returned to her usual cheerful well-bal- 
 anced self as she said: " You must be hungry, 
 Pascalet. Take some bread and wine and tell 
 me all that has happened to you," She poured 
 me a glass of cordial and continued: "You 
 must be off in a hurry so as to catch up with 
 the Battalion at La Verdette, where they camp 
 for the night. You know where that is, about
 
 142 l)e Hebs of tlje ittiM. 
 
 half a league from Avignon ? The Battalion 
 starts from there at daylight for Paris." 
 
 While I sopped my bread in my wine I 
 told her step by step all my misfortunes, and 
 also how I had met La Jacarasse and the three 
 men carrying another man to the Rhone. 
 When Lazuli heard this she threw her arms up 
 over her head, and exclaimed: " It isn't possi- 
 ble! Where are we? Is everybody a mur- 
 derer ? I am not going to stay here alone with 
 my baby. I am afraid of your Surto. I am 
 afraid of La Jacarasse. Start now. Leave here 
 at once. Take your gun and your sword and 
 join the Battalion. Tell Vauclair I can not stay 
 here alone. Tell him I shall start for Paris 
 next week by the coach. I shall pass you on 
 the road and will wait for you in Paris. I will 
 get ready there a little home for you both ; and 
 I will be there with you should anything go 
 wrong. I too am a Patriot. I want my share 
 of all your troubles. 
 
 " Here is your bundle. See, Pascalet, what 
 I have put in it for you. Here is a nice un- 
 bleached linen shirt; here is your gourd, full of 
 good brandy; here is a handsome red taiolo to 
 fasten round your waist; here are two pistols, 
 with powder and ball and fresh flints; and here 
 is your tricolour cockade. Here too, don't for-
 
 ittamillcrise." 143 
 
 get, are the three crowns given you by Mon- 
 sieur Randoulet. You may need them. It is 
 a long road to Paris, and the times are bad. 
 They say all the people up there are Aristocrats 
 perhaps you will not get even drinking- 
 water for nothing! Well, it is time to start. 
 Come and kiss little Clairet but come quietly, 
 for he is fast asleep. And then be off as 
 quickly as you can, and tell all I have said to 
 Vauclair." 
 
 Lazuli took me by the hand and led me in 
 softly to kiss little Clairet. Then she put my 
 bundle on my back, fastening it on firmly with 
 two bands which crossed over my chest, and 
 we went down stairs. I went first, and what 
 with sword and gun and bundle I was laden 
 like a bee. Lazuli came behind, lamp in hand, 
 saying over and over: "Yes, 1 start next week 
 we will all meet very soon. Say so to Vau- 
 clair." 
 
 My heart got up into my mouth and choked 
 me so that I couldn't answer her a word. I 
 stopped on the threshold and before I could 
 turn around the door was shut behind me and 
 bolted fast. And there I was, all alone at night 
 on the Place du Grand Paradis, my sword by 
 my side, my gun on my shoulder starting on 
 foot for Paris, the Capital of France ! 
 ii
 
 144 lK fie&s of tlje ittiM. 
 
 "And now," said Pascal, interrupting him- 
 self, "I think it is about time that the little 
 man there and the rest of us should go and see 
 the blind procession go by. Good-night." 
 
 As we went out Lou Materoun said: " But 
 to-morrow you'll tell us what happened up 
 there in Paris, won't you, Pascal ? You're not 
 going to leave us this way, all high and dry ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I'll tell you all about it to-mor- 
 row," answered Pascal already a good way 
 off. Lou Materoun went toward the upper 
 part of the village while we went toward the 
 lower, each one taking the road to his home. 
 Sheltered under my grandfather's cloak, my eyes 
 shut up with sleepiness, I clutched his breeches 
 and so let him lead me to the door of our 
 house. And while he held up his lantern and 
 fumbled with the key I still heard, there under 
 the cloak, the steady beat of Lou Materoun's 
 hob-nailed shoes as he went upward through 
 the darkness to the high end of the village 
 street.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE MARCH OF THE MARSEILLES BATTALION. 
 
 WHILE we were at supper the next even- 
 ing my father said: "My olives are to be 
 ground to-night and I must go to the oil-mill 
 to see after them. The first pressing will be 
 sent home about ten o'clock, and as I can't be 
 in two places at once somebody must be here 
 to put it in the jars." 
 
 "Very well," said my grandfather, "I will 
 stay at home and attend to it." 
 
 " Won't we go to the shoemaker's then ? " 
 I cried all of a tremble. "Why, it's to-night 
 that Pascal tells of the march to Paris! " 
 
 My father frowned as he said: " I don't see 
 why I should be kept from looking after my 
 olives by a blind grandmother's story like this 
 stuff of old Pascal's." 
 
 But my mother understood perfectly how I 
 felt how cruelly disappointed I was. I do be- 
 lieve that she used to feel in her own body all that 
 I felt in mine. Never had a boy so good and 
 
 145
 
 146 l)e ftefcs of ll)e 
 
 kind a mother. " There now," said she. "Go 
 to your story-telling. I will stay up and at- 
 tend to the oil." 
 
 A minute later my grandfather had lighted 
 his lantern and we were off together; and in 
 less time than it takes to go from the sink to 
 the wood-pile we found ourselves at the shoe- 
 maker's. As it turned out it was well that we 
 had hurried. The meeting already was in full 
 session, and the neighbours had no more than 
 made room on the bench for my grandfather 
 when old Pascal opened his mouth and began. 
 
 I did not loiter on the road. I followed the 
 tow-path along the Rhone, taking a short cut 
 whenever 1 could find one. The stars were 
 shining. The red moon, looking as big as the 
 setting sun, just touched the Rock of Justice. 
 The Rhone went rippling along with a little 
 noise like that of the sun-wind in the white 
 poplars. The nightingales were trilling to each 
 other across the river. On the meadows were 
 tiny points of light where the glow-worms 
 were lying in the grass. Suddenly the sound 
 of girls' voices and of young mens' laughter 
 startled me; and I knew that hidden by the 
 bushes close by was a threshing-floor, and 
 that the young people of the farmhouse to
 
 0f ttye ittor0eilles Battalion. 147 
 
 which it belonged were seated on the straw- 
 heaps and were merry-making out of doors in 
 the sweet freshness of the night. 
 
 But nothing could stay me. On I ran, keep- 
 ing my eyes steadily fixed on the evergreen- 
 oaks of La Verdette which I could make out 
 faintly in the distance. And as I ran I kept 
 saying to myself : "Hurry! Hurry! The Bat- 
 talion may start without you! " I felt that no 
 joy could be so sweet as that of being once 
 more with the men of Marseilles, of seeing 
 again Vauclair, of feeling myself again one of 
 the patriot Reds of the Midi on the march to 
 Paris to drive out our traitor King. 
 
 At last I came to the edge of the wood, and 
 as I was looking for a place to jump the ditch 
 that ran beside the road a voice cried sharply 
 out of the darkness: "Halt! Who goes 
 there ? " 
 
 "Friend of Liberty," I answered, giving 
 the countersign. 
 
 " But who are you ?" 
 
 "lam Pascalet. A volunteer from Avi- 
 gnon." 
 
 " Why, it's our kid! Vive la Nation! Tip 
 us your five sardines, Pascalet. We thought 
 you were done for." And the sentry shook 
 hands so hard that I thought my five sar-
 
 148 (Elje ftebs of 
 
 dines, as he called them, were done for any 
 way. 
 
 The sentry's challenge, and his shout of joy 
 when he found that I had got back safe again, 
 started the rest of the men from their resting 
 places beneath the trees. The Commandant 
 Moisson, Captain Gamier, my good Vauclair 
 half the command came crowding around me. 
 As for Vauclair, he was so delighted that he 
 picked me right off my feet and hugged me 
 like a bear; and we couldn't speak, either of 
 us we were fairly crying ! 
 
 "If you hadn't turned up, Pascalet," said 
 the Commandant, "I believe I would have 
 marched the Battalion back to look for you. I 
 felt something here in my heart that told me it 
 was all wrong to let that dirty German carry 
 you off." 
 
 "Well, it's all right now," said Vauclair as 
 he loosened his bear-hug and set me on my 
 feet again. "We won't talk about it. Tell 
 me, how did you find your way here ? Did 
 you see Lazuli ?" 
 
 "Did I see her? I should say I did! It 
 was she who gave me my things and started 
 me after you. I told her everything that had 
 happened, and she was all worked up about 
 it."
 
 Ittard) of tl)c Marseilles Battalion. 149 
 
 Here the Commandant ordered the drums 
 to beat the assembly. "Hurry, lads," he 
 called. "We must be off. It will be day- 
 break soon." 
 
 Vauclair kept muttering: " I don't wonder 
 she was worked up. It doesn't seem possible 
 such things could be! It doesn't seem pos- 
 sible!" And as we fell in he asked: "And 
 what did she say to you ? " 
 
 " She said she wouldn't stay where there 
 were such goings on. That she and little 
 Clairet would take the Paris coach next week 
 and pass us on the road. She says she wants 
 to have a hand in the row up there herself." 
 
 "I'm glad she's coming," Vauclair an- 
 swered. " What you tell me takes a load off 
 my mind. I should have wearied for her up 
 there alone. But aren't you tired, Pascalet ? 
 You haven't had a wink of sleep and you 
 know we are to make one stretch of it from 
 here to Orange, at least six leagues." 
 
 "Sleepy? Tired? Not a bit of it! And 
 what do we want to stop in Orange for ? " 
 Booby that I was, I thought that Paris was just 
 on the other side of the mountains and that we 
 could get there in a single march ! 
 
 While we talked, the Battalion was form- 
 ing in line on the road. ' ' Forward, march ! "
 
 tlje XttiM. 
 
 cried the Commandant. The drums beat the 
 quick-step ; all the men together burst out with 
 "Allons enfants de la Patrie!" and we were 
 off. I stepped out with my longest stride 
 trying to walk with the step of a big man 
 and 1 sung away at the top of my voice. I 
 felt as if I were borne away on wings. My 
 voice rang out so loud that I heard nothing 
 else. It seemed to me that my singing could 
 be heard in Avignon, in Marseilles, away even 
 in my own home among the mountains at 
 Malemort; and as if the whole round earth 
 must hear the rattle of our drums, the thunder- 
 like rumbling of our cannon, and our tre- 
 mendous cry: "Aux armes, citoyens! Aux 
 armes! " 
 
 I had taken my place at the head of the 
 Battalion, close behind the drums, alongside of 
 the tall Federal who had carried the banner of 
 The Rights of Man through the streets of Avi- 
 gnon. He was a good-natured, jolly fellow; 
 a Marseillais named Samat. Every now and 
 then he would turn to me and say: "Good 
 for you, kid! Good for you!" To which I 
 would answer wanting to please him by 
 speaking with the Marseilles accent: " Vivo la 
 Nacien!" and then I w'ould go on roaring 
 " Aliens enfants de la Patrie! "
 
 JlTarcl) of tlje Marseilles Battalion. 151 
 
 Day was just dawning as we marched 
 through the village of Sorgues. The men in 
 their shirts, the women in their shifts with hair 
 loose over their shoulders, crowded to the win- 
 dows to see us pass. The young men and the 
 girls applauded us; the girls even blowing 
 kisses to us, while the men shouted: "Death 
 to the tyrant! Vive les Marseillais ! " But the 
 stiff-necked ones, the old women, the people 
 behind the age, crossed themselves, spit at us, 
 and banged-to their shutters. The village was 
 so small that we were soon through it and out 
 in the open country again. 
 
 The sun was rising behind Mont Ventour, 
 and the birds were flying out from the trees 
 and bushes. Already men were at work at 
 the threshing-floors unbinding the sheaves and 
 spreading them out and hammering them with 
 the hard-hitting flails. Close beside the thresh- 
 ers the great winnowing-sieves, hung between 
 their three poles, swayed backwards and for- 
 wards winnowing the grain from the chaff. 
 The yellow grain rained straight down, form- 
 ing even, pointed heaps; while the floating 
 chaff, looking like gold-dust, was carried away 
 by the light wind and sprinkled in little gold 
 dots over the grass. From the grain that leaped 
 from the husks with each flail-stroke, and from
 
 152 $l)e ttcfcs of tl)e ittibi. 
 
 the beaten straw, there blew over on the soft 
 wind clear to the road where we were marching 
 with our cannon behind us a delicious smell 
 that fairly made our mouths water it was so 
 like the smell of good golden-crusted bread 
 fresh out of the oven. Farther away, off in the 
 stubble-fields, we could see men gathering the 
 heaps of sheaves into wagons so piled up that 
 they looked like little thatched houses. Stick- 
 ing out beyond the shelvings the big ends of 
 the sheaves almost touched the ground; and 
 the load, held fast by the double rope, curved 
 out so far over the back of the shaft-horse that he 
 looked like ahorse half buried in a stack of straw. 
 As the sun got higher and the day got hotter 
 the cigales began to sing; and all around us 
 new ones were coming out of the ground and 
 getting off their chrysalis overcoats and then 
 when the good sun had given them fresh life 
 flying off with their harsh buzzing cry into the 
 hot air. The little creatures came and perched 
 on our bayonets and gun-barrels; and as we 
 roared out the "Marseillaise" to our steady 
 drum-rattle, they scraped out their buzzing 
 song. So to buzz of cigale and buzz of drum 
 we marched under the blazing sun, kicking up 
 the dust of twenty flocks of sheep and making 
 our throats as dry as lime-kilns.
 
 of tfye Marseille Battalion. 153 
 
 In spite of heat and dust, in spite of thirst 
 and weariness, no one complained as we 
 tramped steadily on : one body and one soul 
 with one will and one aim and that to make 
 the traitor King, and those Parisians who were 
 traitors with him, cry mercy. 
 
 At midday we reached Orange, where the 
 whole town headed by the Consul came to 
 meet us. I can tell you I was a proud boy as 
 I entered that town! % From my shoes to my 
 eyebrows I was white with dust. My red cap 
 was cocked over one ear. I kept my eyes 
 glaringly wide open, so as to Jook fierce and 
 dangerous. I howled the "Marseillaise" at 
 the top of my voice as I marched in the van of 
 the Battalion and I was sure that no one saw 
 or heard anybody but me! 
 
 Samat, at the head of the column, flourished 
 his banner of The Rights of Man ; and when 
 he saw any one who looked sulky, or who did 
 not applaud, that unpatriotic person had to 
 kiss The Rights of Man in a hurry ! 
 
 At the Hotel de Ville the Consul welcomed 
 us formally in a speech in French which we 
 couldn't make anything out of. He talked and 
 he talked and he talked, without once stop- 
 ping. And at last as it seemed as if he never 
 would finish Margan, a long thin pockmarked
 
 i54 (EI)e fte&s of tlje 
 
 fellow, called out: "Hold up there, Monsieur 
 le Consul. Hearing your gab gives me the 
 pip. Vivo la Nacien with a jug of wine! " 
 
 Every one laughed and applauded; and the 
 Consul, quite understanding the matter, ended 
 his speech by saying: "Friends, I see what 
 you need is to be well filled up. You are to 
 camp on the Place de 1'Arc de Triomphe; and 
 there you'll find all the good wine and good 
 barley bread that you can hold. Vive la Na- 
 tion ! " 
 
 We found it all as the Consul had promised, 
 and after we had gulped our claret and 
 munched our good barley bread seasoned with 
 a clove of garlic rubbed on it, we went to take 
 an afternoon nap in a near-by shady field. 
 Some lay down on their sides, some on 
 their backs, but the greatest number lay face 
 down so as not to be bothered by the flies. 
 Unbuttoning my coat and unlacing my shoes, 
 I lay down beside Vauclair, gun in hand for 
 I had sworn, since my capture of the day be- 
 fore, that never would I let that gun go again 
 and with my bundle for a pillow I soon 
 floated off in dreams. I saw myself once more 
 at the Porte de la Ligne in the midst of the fes- 
 tivities, again I heard the jingle of bells and 
 the cracking of a whip, again I felt the breath
 
 illlarcl) of the iHarseiilco JSaltalion. 155 
 
 of the horses on my neck. And then oh hor- 
 ror! again a hand caught my shoulder in a 
 grip like a vice ! Frightened, panting, I awoke 
 screaming: "Vauclair! Help! Help!" And 
 as I jumped to my feet this is the wonderful 
 part of it I really saw on the highway, close 
 by me, the Marquis of Ambrun's carriage dash- 
 ing along at full gallop with its three horses har- 
 nessed en arbalete two horses abreast and the 
 third in front and there was Surto up on the 
 box outside. 
 
 "What's the row? What's the matter 
 with you ?" cried Vauclair, jumping to his feet 
 beside me. 
 
 " Look! Look! " I cried. " It is the Mar- 
 quis d'Ambrun and Surto! There, up the 
 road, in that carriage! " 
 
 "Oh," said Vauclair, regretfully, "if only 
 we had seen them coming! " 
 
 My scream had waked up most of the men. 
 The Commandant came up, and Vauclair told 
 him all about my kidnapping of the day before 
 and pointed out to him the little black speck 
 far up the road wrapped in a cloud of dust; 
 and then added that in that carriage were the 
 very Aristos who had tried to kill me. 
 
 "It's a good thing for them and a bad thing 
 for us that we didn't see them sooner," said
 
 156 tje ttefcs of tl)e IttiM. 
 
 the Commandant. "We'd have settled the 
 score for the boy, here and three fine horses 
 are just what we need to drag our cannon to 
 Paris." 
 
 But there was nothing more to be done 
 about it. A little later Captain Gamier ordered 
 the drums to beat the assembly, and we all fell 
 in; and then with the people of Orange 
 crowding around us cheering, and with all the 
 Battalion roaring out "Tremblez, tyrans! " and 
 the rest of it away we went up the Paris 
 road. 
 
 The sun was setting behind the white pop- 
 lars bordering the lagoons of the Rhone as we 
 passed through Mornas. To our wonder the 
 town was dead deserted. The rattle of our 
 drums, our singing of the "Marseillaise," the 
 rumble of our cannon, shook the whole town 
 but the doors and windows staid fast barred 
 and the only living things we saw were some 
 fluttering and squawking hens. 
 
 "Here's a pretty state of things!" said 
 Samat; who felt quite shame-faced at having 
 unfurled his banner of The Rights of Man in a 
 place where there was no one who could be 
 kicked into kissing it on his knees. 
 
 " What in the name of all thunders is every- 
 body doing in this town of nobody ?" shouted
 
 fttarcl) of itye ittamilles Battalion. 157 
 
 Margan, at the same time banging with his 
 gunstock against windows and doors. But 
 his banging did no good. We went clear 
 through the village without seeing the face of 
 man. 
 
 At the end of the town we came upon more 
 squawking chickens; and Samat said, with 
 a good deal of meaning in his tone: " Well, at 
 any rate there are plenty of chickens in this 
 country!" He left the ranks and went back, 
 and so did twenty or thirty more of our men ; 
 and when they joined us again every one 
 of them had a cock or a pullet spitted on 
 his bayonet where they kept on gurgling 
 and sighing for two or three hours, as we 
 went marching onward through the black 
 night. 
 
 Oh how long was that night and how 
 weary that road ! The darkness grew blacker 
 and blacker. We were too tired to talk. Even 
 Margan, who was a born chatterbox, held his 
 tongue. The only sounds we heard were the 
 rattling of the forge-irons and the rumbling of 
 the cannon on the road, and the chirping of 
 crickets and croaking of frogs off in the dark- 
 ness near us in the fields. Drowsily we 
 plodded on. 
 
 Suddenly, far ahead of us we saw a light
 
 158 l)e ftebs of llje XttiM. 
 
 that seemed to be in the road and that tossed 
 about and went from side to side. 
 
 "What's that?" called out one of our 
 drummers, who led the way. No one could 
 tell, and every one made his guess as to what 
 it was. One thought it the mail-coach, an- 
 other a carriage, another a Jack-o'-lantern. 
 But what it actually turned out to be was a 
 man with a lantern running toward us, with 
 open arms as if he would bar our way, while 
 he shouted: "Mercy! Mercy! We are all 
 .good Patriots. Have pity on us. Do not hurt 
 us. We are poor, but we will give you all 
 we have. I can offer no more! " 
 
 "But, my good man, who are you; and 
 what makes you think we want to hurt you ? " 
 asked Samat, sticking the man's own lantern 
 under his nose so .as to see what he looked 
 like. 
 
 " I am the Consul of Pierrelatte. Don't 
 hurt me, and 1 will turn over everything to 
 you. Before they ran away my Pierrelatte 
 people said to me : ' Let them eat and drink all 
 there is to eat and drink. Let them eat and 
 drink it all!' Now what more would you 
 have ? I implore you not to burn or pull down 
 or ruin the property of these my poor peo- 
 ple!"
 
 of ll)c ittarseilUs Battalion. 159 
 
 "You great old owl, you!" cried Margan, 
 bursting into a laugh at seeing the Consul 
 trembling on his little cock's legs that shook 
 like castanets. "What do you take us for 
 for murderers, for highway robbers ? Come, 
 come, you must tell your Pierrelatte people 
 that we are good Patriots, and that all we want 
 is enough wine to keep us going from here to 
 Montelimar." 
 
 "Well, that don't seem much to ask," said 
 the Consul. And then he went on: "Ah, my 
 dear sir, no sooner had the carriage driven 
 away than all my Pierrelatte people fled into 
 the islands of the Rhone leaving me, their 
 Consul, all alone to try to make you hear 
 reason." 
 
 " What carriage?" asked Vauclair. 
 
 "A carriage that passed here at nightfall. 
 It stopped but a moment in the Place de la 
 Commune, and the coachman without getting 
 down from his seat called out:' 'Good people, 
 hide yourselves! The Marseilles robbers are 
 coming! To-morrow you all will be dead and 
 your houses all pillaged and burned!' And 
 then he whipped up his horses and galloped 
 off as if he had the devil at his heels." 
 
 " We know who that man was! Eh, Com- 
 mandant?" said Vauclair turning to Com-
 
 160 |)c ftebs of tl)e HUM. 
 
 mandant Moisson. " We'll catch up with him 
 at Paris with him and his Marquis too! " 
 
 Margan, who was getting impatient, broke 
 in with: "All right, all right, citizen Consul. 
 As you have a lantern, go ahead and show us 
 the door of the best cellar in the village. That 
 is all we ask." 
 
 "Come along, you good people," said the 
 old Consul, now quite easy about us. "Fol- 
 low me." And away he went, stumping 
 along in front of the Battalion while he rambled 
 on to us: "Oh, if only they had known this, 
 my people would not have hidden themselves, 
 every one of them, in the Rhone islands. 
 They took their goats, their mules, their asses; 
 they even carried their rabbits with them. 
 They took away everything they possibly 
 could take. If you could have seen them run- 
 ning away the women shrieking and scream- 
 ing, the children crying, the men swearing! 
 And so away they all went to the islands. 
 
 "Had they known that a couple of barrels 
 of wine was all you wanted! Well, well, 
 well all gone except me, the Consul. I said 
 to myself: ' Either you are the Consul or you 
 are not. If your head is cut off, it will be cut 
 off but you will not do your duty as a Consul 
 unless you stay ! ' '
 
 of tl)e Jflarsdlks Battalion. 161 
 
 "What are you chattering about, old fel- 
 low ? " said Margan. "Are we near that cellar- 
 door yet ? " 
 
 "Not two steps farther," said the Consul. 
 "Here we are," and, so saying, he stopped in 
 the main street of the village before a locked 
 and barred door. "Here is the best stocked 
 cellar in Pierrelatte, " he went on, holding up 
 his lantern so as to see the lock. "But they 
 certainly have carried off the key." 
 
 "All right, all right," said Margan, stepping 
 forward. "Don't work up your bile, citizen 
 Consul, we have keys here to open all locks," 
 and he called: "Hallo, there, oh Peloux! 
 Bring up the forge-truck and show what good 
 locksmiths we are. Show how long it will 
 take us to open the doors of the King's Castle 
 up there in Paris! " 
 
 Peloux, who was the armorer of the Bat- 
 talion, came forward with his men, dragging 
 the forge-truck. In the glint of an eye they 
 turned the tail of the truck toward the big 
 door; six men took hold and drew it to the 
 other side of the street so as to have a good 
 start: "Oh, isso! Now then, all together!" 
 they cried and the ready-made battering ram 
 whacked against the door, and burst it open 
 with a bang! Like a swarm of eager wine-
 
 162 l)e ftcba of the ittibi. 
 
 flies we rushed through the opening, and in no 
 time had the bung out of the biggest barrel 
 and its vent started. Out spouted the wine in a 
 red curve, glinting in the light of the lantern 
 like a rainbow of rubies and filling the whole 
 place with its rich smell. As the big jugs were 
 filled each man clutched one, and either glued 
 his lips to it and sucked away or held it high 
 up and let the wine pour directly down into 
 his thirsty throat. Some even stooped and 
 drank directly from the barrel. Round went 
 the jugs once, twice, thrice. Oh how we 
 gulped and guzzled ! Each man as he had his 
 fill went off and lay down upon the straw on 
 the threshing-floors at the entrance of the vil- 
 lage; and I, when the hens began to have two 
 heads, did as the rest and went to lie down, 
 too. The dawn had just begun to whiten the 
 sky so that the white moon looked like a cym- 
 bal nailed up there. But some of the men 
 stayed on buzzing around the cask, kissing the 
 vent until the wine no longer spirted out in a 
 clear rainbow but dribbled out thick and heavy 
 off the lees. 
 
 But in spite of our night's march, and our 
 guzzling on top of it, we made an early start. 
 No sooner did the red sunlight touch the top 
 of Mont Ventour, so that it was like a lovely
 
 ittarcl) of tl)c Marseilles Battalion. 163 
 
 rose on the highest branch of a rose bush, than 
 the Commandant who, with our officers, had 
 stood watch while the drinking was going on 
 ordered the drums to beat the assembly and 
 we fell into line. 
 
 The Commandant, with drawn sword, took 
 his position in front of the -Battalion and said to 
 us: "I know that you are good Patriots. I 
 know that you will do your duty unto the end, 
 unto death. Friends, the Country is in danger. 
 France may perish. The King has betrayed 
 us and has made a pact with strange peoples 
 to destroy the Nation. It is our duty to save 
 what he seeks to destroy. With our hearts 
 full of rage against the tyrant, and our souls 
 full of love for the Country, we will stride on 
 together to Paris and show what the Reds of 
 the Midi can do! " And to this speech we all, 
 in one formidable shout, answered: "Vivo la 
 Nacien! " 
 
 Then the Commandant turned toward the 
 Consul of Pierrelatte, who had stuck to him 
 all night long, and said: "Citizen Consul, tell 
 your Pierrelatte people that we of the Marseilles 
 Battalion are, as they are, children of the plough 
 and of the workshop; that we have faith in 
 liberty and in justice, and that we go to Paris 
 to overthrow the tyrant. And tell them, too,
 
 1 64 l)e ftefcs of tl)e ittiM. 
 
 that we are neither murderers nor robbers, and 
 that we pay our debts." So saying, he drew 
 out an assignat from his pocket and gave it to 
 the Consul, adding: " Here is an order on the 
 Treasury to pay for the wine we have drunk 
 and the damage we have done." 
 
 The poor Consul could not believe his eyes. 
 Greatly moved, he took off his cocked-hat; 
 and his emotion going to his thin cock's legs 
 they more than ever shook like castanets. So 
 we left him. The drums struck up the march, 
 and singing the "Marseillaise" we again 
 started on the road to Paris. 
 
 This time, leaving big Samat and chatter- 
 ing Margan, I stationed myself in the rear, 
 with the cannon, and the forge, beside Ser- 
 geant Peloux from whom 1 had a favour to 
 ask. A tremendous longing to help pull the 
 guns had taken hold of me : for I thought that if 
 only I could be harnessed up with the others in 
 that hard work I would not seem so young. I 
 fancied to myself how I would look as we 
 passed through the towns and villages bend- 
 ing over and tugging at the straps, red as fire 
 and dripping with sweat, my eyes very wide 
 open and rolling ferociously, sparks flying from 
 the stones beneath my hob-nailed shoes, and 
 all the while shouting in a voice as deep and
 
 of tl)e Marseilles Battalion. 165 
 
 as hoarse as I could make it: "Vivo la Na- 
 cien!" I fancied how the women and girls 
 and children would stare at me; and how I 
 would look to them just as the men of the Bat- 
 talion had looked to me when they came in 
 to Avignon. 
 
 But at the very first word that I ventured 
 to say about this to Sergeant Peloux he set me 
 down hard. "Your turn will come in good 
 time, little man," said the Sergeant. "We 
 haven't got to Paris yet; and before we get 
 there you'll have your gaiter's full of toting 
 your bundle and your gun and that sword that 
 is a good deal longer than you are! " 
 
 I didn't dare to make any answer when I 
 got this set-back, and I felt myself turning red 
 with shame. Luckily for the hiding of my 
 confusion, a frightened hen just then fluttered 
 into the ranks and every one tried to spit her 
 on sword or bayonet. Flying and running and 
 squawking as if her head was being cut off, 
 the hen came down the line, and as she passed 
 me I spitted her at the first lunge. 
 
 Proud as a prince, I stepped out so as to 
 gain the head of the column and show off my 
 hen ; and as I passed up the line I heard the 
 Federals saying: "Look there, the kid has 
 her!" But Vauclair turned around frowning;
 
 166 (ftlje fteb0 of llje HUM. 
 
 and as I came up to him he said: "Whose 
 hen is that ? " 
 
 "It's mine." 
 
 " Have you paid for it?" 
 
 "No, indeed!" 
 
 "Then you have stolen it. Go to your 
 place. Don't let this ever happen again." 
 
 I never had seen Vauclair so hard ; and as 
 he spoke I felt a sudden pang in my heart it 
 was the first time that I ever had given him 
 pain. But 1 felt that he was right to blame 
 me. I had stolen that hen, and perhaps from 
 some poor man. I wanted to unspit her and 
 fling her behind the hedge, but I did not dare 
 to. Yet I longed to get rid of her. She was a 
 weight on me and made me bitterly ashamed. 
 I had kept on walking very fast and so had 
 reached the head of the Battalion. In order to 
 make tall Samat and chattering Margan turn 
 around, and also in order to hide my con- 
 fusion, I began to sing "Aliens enfants de la 
 Patrie ! " 
 
 "Hullo! is that you?" said Samat. 
 "Look, Margan, look there what a splendid 
 big hen ! Where did you pick her up, kid ? 
 What geese we were not to have caught her 
 ourselves!" 
 
 "Do take her, if you like her," said I; and
 
 ittarcl) of tl)e UlarseiUes Battalion. 167 
 
 without any more words I took down my hen 
 and stuck her on his bayonet. 
 
 "He's no goose, anyway, that kid; he 
 wants to make me carry her! No matter, 
 youngster, you shall have a bit of her.-" And 
 on he marched, roaring out: "Aliens enfants 
 de la Patrie!" 
 
 When I had got rid of my hen it seemed as 
 if a tremendous load had fallen from my back. 
 Vauclair couldn't reproach me any longer, and 
 all things pleased me again ; the road was gay, 
 the sun delighted me. While the men heavily 
 tramped along dripping with sweat, suffo- 
 cated by the white dust, and deafened by the 
 shrill voice of the cigales I, light as air, went 
 and came the whole length of the Battalion as 
 the sheep dog does with his flock. I jumped 
 up on the banks by the road side and gathered 
 big blackberries with which I stuffed myself 
 and my pockets. 
 
 Suddenly the drums beat the quick-step. 
 Samat unfurled his banner, and we steadied 
 our lines. We were entering the town of 
 Montelimar. The streets and open places were 
 crowded with people, and more people filled 
 the windows and doorways. We marched on 
 until we came in front of the Patriot's Club, 
 over which the red flag was floating; and then,
 
 168 (pe ftete of ll)e ittiM. 
 
 after a short halt, we went to encamp outside of 
 the town beside a river that they told us was 
 the Jabron. Here we made ourselves com- 
 fortable roasting the Mornas chickens and 
 eating them with good fresh bread; and then, 
 having loosened the knee-buckles of our 
 breeches and taken off our shoes, we spread 
 ourselves out on the grass. Even for those of 
 us who kept awake it was a delicious rest to 
 go down on one's elbows and stretch out at 
 full length on the soft grass in the shade of the 
 poplars and willows which grew beside the 
 stream. 
 
 I lay that way half awake, half dreaming, 
 turning over in my mind for a while the cruel 
 and bitter life I had passed at La Garde; and 
 then forgetting it all as I sleepily watched a 
 white cloud up in the sky that got bigger and 
 bigger and then slowly got little again, and at 
 last went quite away. Then I let my head fall 
 between my hands and watched with great in- 
 terest an ant who was carrying through the grass 
 a crumb of bread bigger than himself. The little 
 creature would get caught in a thick tangle of 
 grass-blades, or would slip down from a tall 
 stem; but off he would start again, sometimes 
 pushing and sometimes pulling at his load. In 
 pity for him, I now and then would take a
 
 of tl)e Marseilles Battalion. 169 
 
 twig and help him on his way; putting the 
 twig under him very gently, so as not to hurt 
 him, and so lifting him over a hard pass that 
 would have cost him an hour of climbing to 
 get over alone. And so the afternoon wore 
 away. 
 
 At sunset the brave Patriots of Montelimar 
 brought each of us to eat with our bread a 
 plaited rope of garlic, for that is the food to 
 give strength and courage to warriors; and 
 then the drums beat, and once more we started 
 on the road to Paris. 
 
 We marched all night ; a warm clear summer 
 night with now and then a flash of heat light- 
 ning low down in the sky. As dawn came on 
 we were wrapped in a cool mist that rose from 
 the Rhone and spread out over the osiers and 
 the fields and the flowering hedges by the road 
 side; but the sun soon rose and drank it up. 
 It seemed strange to us to find men reaping. 
 In Avignon half the grain already was in the 
 granaries; at Pierrelatte they were putting it 
 into sheaves; and here they were only harvest- 
 ing ! But we were coming to the frontiers of the 
 North. Now that we had passed Montelimar 
 there were no more olive-trees ; and the mari- 
 nade, the soft sea-wind off the Mediterranean, 
 was far away. Here, where the olive could
 
 170 l)e Eeb0 of ll)e ittibi. 
 
 not flourish, were no more cigales the ground 
 was too cold to bring them forth. When I saw 
 cherry-trees which were only just losing their 
 blossoms I could not help saying: "How far 
 off we are ! " 
 
 Margan laughed when he heard me, and 
 broke out in his chattering way: " Yes, we've 
 come a good way, but we're not nearly there 
 yet. Go ahead all, and the devil take the 
 hindermost! Go ahead! It's not in fifteen 
 days, nor yet in twenty days, that we'll be 
 beating the moths out of the King's council- 
 lors. And, I say, boys, won't that make a gay 
 stir-about ? To-morrow we'll be in Valence. 
 But we won't stop there. Didn't the Com- 
 mandant say that the country's in danger ? We 
 won't stop till we haven't any breath left! 
 And now, once more: 'Aux armes, cito- 
 yens ! ' ' And as we crossed the bridge of the 
 Drome, all singing at the tops of our voices, 
 we fairly made the buttresses shake ! 
 
 With bunches of box and laurel stuck in 
 our guns and in our hats, covered with a thick 
 coat of dust, and all singing "Tremblez, tyrans 
 et vous perfides!" we crossed the city of 
 Valence at midday in the full blaze of the sun. 
 The whole population was out to look at us. 
 Men, women and children, all pale and un-
 
 iHarcl) of ttye ittareeilles Battalion. 171 
 
 easy, gazed at us as we passed not knowing 
 whether to be frightened or to be comforted; 
 wondering who we were and whence we 
 came and where we were going. As we 
 marched on I heard an old woman say: " It is 
 Jourdain's army of cut-throats!" and she 
 crossed herself, as if a thunder-clap had just 
 burst forth. 
 
 But the Commandant called out : ' ' No stop- 
 ping! The country is in danger!" And on 
 we went, the drums beating the quick-step, 
 and Valence soon was left behind. We sang 
 the "Marseillaise"; and drum-beat and song 
 echoed back to us from the limestone rocks on 
 the other bank of the Rhone; so that it seemed 
 as if off there, too, another army of the Reds of 
 the Midi were marching to the assault of Paris. 
 
 Rub your crusts of bread with garlic, good 
 Federals, good Patriots! March bravely on and 
 on ! Up there in Paris must come the hardest 
 task of all. March on and on with bleeding 
 feet. The way is dull and hard, the road is 
 long but at the end stands Liberty ! 
 
 We crossed the bridge of the Isere, made 
 our camp about sundown in the forest of Car- 
 nage ; and started again toward morning so as 
 to reach by evening the city of Vienne. As 
 we marched along the peasants dropped their
 
 1 72 tye ftebs 0f llje 
 
 work and ran across the fields to stare at us. 
 We frightened and astonished them ; and when 
 we joked them calling out: "Oh, he, ox- 
 herd, is it fine to-day ?" or " Look out, reaper, 
 your whet-stone case is leaking!" they an- 
 swered in a patois which was neither one thing 
 nor the other and like people who did not un- 
 derstand. It was easy to see they were 
 Northern lumpkins. Why, they had a twist 
 in their talk that the very devil must have 
 puffed into their faces; and already they spoke 
 like the Paris folks, with a twang in the nose. 
 
 The day went on, and toward sunset we 
 were come close to Vienne. The city stood 
 before us, high up on the banks of the Rhone; 
 and above the city rose still higher the cathe- 
 dral of Saint Maurice towering above walls 
 that seemed as big and high as those of the 
 Roman theatre at Orange. 
 
 At the sight of this great city I was seized 
 again by my longing to be harnessed to our 
 cannon, and so to enter it looking like a man. 
 I fell out from the ranks under pretence of 
 fastening my shoes and let the Battalion pass 
 until the rear-guard came up to me with the 
 cannon and forge. 
 
 "See here, partner," said I to a Federal 
 whose feet were cut and bleeding but who
 
 ittard) of tl)e Marseilles Battalion. 173 
 
 was tugging away at his harness strap, puff- 
 ing and blowing like an angry lizard. "It 
 seems to me that that cannon isn't walking 
 alone.' " 
 
 "Not a bit of it, youngster. If you'd like 
 to try a pull, we'll see what meat you are 
 made of." 
 
 " It is just what I want to do," I answered; 
 and without more words I laid my gun and 
 sword and bundle on the truck, the Federal 
 slipped out of his strap and slipped me into it 
 without stopping the march and there 1 was, 
 pulling with might and main. 
 
 Sergeant Peloux, when he saw the first tug 
 I gave at the collar, called out: " Go slow, kid, 
 you'll be blown in no time at that rate to say 
 nothing of smashing the harness." 
 
 This snubbing, though it was only in fun, 
 quieted me for a minute or two; but then off I 
 went again, tugging harder than ever. As we 
 started up the slope to the city all the bells 
 were ringing and cannon were thundering out 
 from the walls; and as 'we got higher the 
 townsfolk came out to meet us in swarms. It 
 was the Fourteenth of July, the festival of the 
 Federation. We had barely room to pass, the 
 streets were so crowded; and the people had 
 to look out for their toes as our wheels rumbled
 
 174 be fte&Q of 111 e fttibi. 
 
 and bumped over the stones. In order to be the 
 more looked at, I bent over almost on all fours, 
 like a beast. When I passed a group of girls I 
 raised my head a little and, red as a flaming 
 devil and with flashing eyes, I made my voice 
 deep and shouted: "Vivo la Nacien!" And 
 how enchanted I was when now and then 
 some girl pointed me out and said: "Just look 
 at that young fellow. Goodness, how he 
 frightens me! " But what I did not like to hear 
 was when they said: "Oh, poor little one! 
 He is hardly more than a child he hasn't a 
 hair on his chin! " Then I would drag harder 
 than ever at my harness, and shout louder than 
 ever: "Vivo la Nacien!" I even thundered 
 out big words and big oaths one on top of the 
 other. I was very young, then ! 
 
 The Patriots of Vienne entertained us well 
 that evening; and the next morning, before 
 leaving the city, the Battalion went to pre- 
 sent arms before the altar of the Federation 
 that had been raised in the open space in front 
 of the church. Here we all bent the knee 
 and sang the verse: "Amour sacre de la Pa- 
 trie! " Hardly had we ended it when a group 
 of school children, led by their teacher, a young 
 Abbe, presented themselves before the altar 
 and, kneeling as we had done, sang to the air
 
 of ttje ittarseilies Battalion. 175 
 
 of the " Marseillaise " a verse that we never be- 
 fore had heard, beginning: 
 
 In the path our elders showed us 
 We will follow when they're gone. 
 
 This beautiful verse set our patriotic fires to 
 blazing and upset us completely. Tears were 
 in all eyes, and each one of us took up a child 
 in his arms and kissed it over and over again. 
 Older people embraced each other, and every 
 one shouted " Vive les Federes! Vive la Na- 
 tion! Down with the tyrant King! " 
 
 Commandant Moisson hugged the little 
 Abbe, who had made all out of his own head 
 the new verse, and said: "Thanks, Patriot, 
 thanks! We will sing your children's verse 
 on the ruins of the King's Castle." And the 
 little Abbe, his eyes wet with tears, answered : 
 " Your patriotic song went right to my heart, 
 and sent a thrill into the very marrow of my 
 bones. Never before have I heard the voice of 
 God ring out so clear: may His blessing go 
 with you and His arm give you strength ! " 
 Then the drums rattled and off we marched 
 to " Allons enfants de la Patrie! " 
 
 All Vienne followed us, shouting. I had 
 harnessed myself again to the truck. A little 
 monkey six or seven years old took upon him 
 13
 
 176 l)e Eeb0 of 
 
 to carry my gun, another one carried my 
 sword, and a third my bundle. A swarm of 
 children buzzed around and followed us like so 
 many flies. From time to time the smallest 
 had to run in order to keep up with us. 1 felt 
 that no one could understand as I did the de- 
 light of these little fellows. It made me as 
 proud as a pig on stilts to see how they ad- 
 mired me and how set up they were by carry- 
 ing my gun or my sword, or even by my let- 
 ting them finger the fine gilt buttons on my coat. 
 But as we went on farther and farther, and 
 the town came to be a long way behind us, 
 we had to tell the children that it was time for 
 them to go home. Handing back the arms 
 and the other things we had allowed them to 
 carry, the good little fellows obeyed us and 
 stopped short :..and there they stood watching 
 us, longingly, until we were hidden from them 
 by a turn in the road. Just as they lost sight 
 of us they all together began to sing in their 
 high pitched clear voices the verse which the 
 little Abbe had added to the " Marseillaise " : 
 
 In the path our elders showed us 
 We will follow when they're gone. 
 
 Without any order being given, the whole 
 Battalion halted; and we stood silent and
 
 of ll)e Marseilles Sattalion. 177 
 
 deeply moved listening to that thrilling song. 
 It seemed to go deep down into our hearts, 
 and we were comforted and strengthened by 
 it. Turning about and facing us, Commandant 
 Moisson said: "Listen, friends, listen well 
 for this is the last time that you will hear the 
 sound of Patriot voices; the voices of the Reds 
 of the Midi. Our feet are now on Northern 
 soil. Henceforward we shall be among the 
 Anti-Patriots the men who have tried to stop 
 the Revolution by opening to strangers and 
 enemies the frontiers of France. Let us show 
 the Aristocrats who we are and what we want. 
 Let them know that nothing can turn us back; 
 that for us it is Death or Liberty!" Then the 
 drums beat and again we went on. 
 
 We marched almost steadily for three days 
 and nights drinking the water of brooks and 
 ditches, eating only bread and garlic, and taking 
 only snatches of sleep as the chance came. Up 
 there in the land of fogs we could not count 
 on the soft straw of the threshing-floors for our 
 rest by night, nor on the cool dry grass of 
 shady fields for our rest by day. Not a bit of 
 it! The wheat was just getting into ear in 
 that country of nothing which God certainly 
 had gone through by night and the fields were 
 soaking with dew or mist until three or four in
 
 1 78 lje Eebs of tlje illibi. 
 
 the afternoon : it took the sun so long to drink 
 up the moisture. 
 
 Well, as I said, we marched for three days 
 and three nights, and so came to the bridge of 
 Saint-Jean d'Ardieres farther north than Lyons 
 (which city we had passed at early dawn with- 
 out stopping) ; farther north, even, than Ville- 
 franche. There, on the shady banks of the 
 Ardieres, we halted for some hours during the 
 hottest part of the day. In the twinkling of 
 an eye the Battalion was at rest beside the 
 river. Some stretched themselves out in the 
 shade of the willows; one dabbled in the 
 clear water, another ate a bit of bread, another 
 mended a tear in his clothes, and another put 
 a stitch in his shoe. But I remained on the 
 bridge with the cannon ; for Vauclair had toid 
 me that the Paris coach might pass us there, 
 and not for an empire would I have gone to 
 sleep and so missed the chance of seeing Lazuli 
 and little Clairet. 
 
 In order to amuse myself while the others 
 slept, I seated myself on the parapet of the bridge 
 and spread open my bundle that Lazuli had so 
 well put up for me and had so carefully knotted 
 and arranged. I examined my two pistols 
 taking out and sharpening the flints and rubbing 
 off here and there a spot of rust and it seemed
 
 of ttye Marseilles Battalion. 179 
 
 to me that in possessing them I possessed all 
 that a man could desire to own on this earth. 
 Then I uncorked my gourd full of brandy and 
 sniffed at it, and without tasting it enjoyed the 
 good smell. I felt the three silver crowns that 
 Monsieur Randoulet, good Monsieur Randoulet, 
 had given me. I tried on my sash, my fine 
 red taiolo; I looked at my black shining pow- 
 der and counted my store of pistol balls ; and 
 then, before packing all up again, I turned to 
 my pistols once more. Oh, my pistols! I 
 could not bear to let them out of my hands. I 
 could not tire of looking at them. And to 
 think that they were my own! 
 
 While I was going on with all this child's 
 play a noise made me jump the sound of bells. 
 I thought that it must be the coach; and I 
 turned around and stared off into the distance 
 as far as I could see the road. There was 
 nothing in sight not the smallest black spot, 
 not a puff of dust and yet nearer and clearer 
 came the sound of jingling bells. And then, 
 while I listened with pricked up ears and stared 
 down the empty highway, there came out from 
 a sunken road behind a flowering hedge close 
 by me a little flock of ten or twelve sheep, fol- 
 lowed by an old shepherd who, in spite of the 
 heat, was closely muffled in his big shepherd's
 
 i8o |e fteb0 of 
 
 cloak. As soon as the old man saw me he 
 bent down his head, pulled his hat over his 
 eyes, and turned as if to retrace his steps. But 
 it was too late. The sheep already had jumped 
 up on the road and he had to follow them. He 
 seemed to be less fearful when he found that I 
 was all alone, for he came toward me and 
 asked me the way to the ferry across the 
 Rhone. 
 
 " I'm the wrong one to come to with that 
 question, good man," said I, "for I don't be- 
 long in these parts.'' 
 
 "Who are you, then, and where are you 
 going," he asked kindly. "You look very 
 young to be wearing the uniform of the Na- 
 tional Guard." 
 
 "I am a Federal Patriot, and I am going to 
 Paris with the Marseilles Battalion to make 
 the King hear reason and to bring him to 
 terms." 
 
 "What do you mean by that? Bring to 
 terms our King, our good King, the father of 
 us all! What are you thinking about, my 
 child ? But where is this Marseilles Battal- 
 ion ?" 
 
 "There is our artillery," I answered, point- 
 ing to the cannon. " Our men are down there 
 by the river, resting in the shade."
 
 of tlje Marseilles Battalion. 181 
 
 "Oh Saints of God have mercy! " exclaimed 
 the old shepherd, raising his eyes on high and 
 putting his hands together in the way a priest 
 does when he says mass. "Is it possible, my 
 child, that you have been misled to believe that 
 the King must be ' made to hear reason ' as 
 you call it so glibly ? Listen well to me, for 
 you are in an evil way : you are going straight 
 into the jaws of hell. I also am a good patriot; 
 and I tell you that you will better serve your 
 country if you will stay here as a shepherd, as 
 I am doing, than if you go up with your Bat- 
 talion into the North. Come now, I will make 
 you a good offer. You shall help me to take 
 care of my flock, and I will pay you well and 
 you will have little work to do. And when 
 we have led the flock up into the high pas- 
 tures in the Alps I will give you a third of it 
 for your own. You will be a little capitalist." 
 
 " Desert the Battalion! " I cried. " Never! 
 You might give me all the sheep in all the moun- 
 tains and on all the plains, and you might stuff 
 my pockets full of gold crowns but I never 
 would stir from the Battalion so much as a 
 single step! Vive la Nation! Liberty or 
 Death ! " 
 
 "Poor child, poor child, your head is 
 turned! So young, and talking of death. Un-
 
 182 (Efye ftefcs of ll)e itlibi. 
 
 happy boy! Don't you know that our Lord 
 Jesus Christ when he died on the cross forgave 
 those who put him to death ? Are there no 
 cures in your country, have you never heard 
 good Christian words ? " 
 
 "Yes indeed, there is a good cure in our 
 village; he is as good as he can be, and his 
 name is Monsieur Randoulet. He saved my 
 life; he drew me out of the claws of the Mar- 
 quis and his game-keeper who wanted to kill 
 me." 
 
 "Well then, my child, in the name of that 
 holy man who saved your life, listen to me. 
 Promise me that until your last gasp you 
 always will carry about you this medal on 
 which is the image of Notre-Dame-de-Bon- 
 Secours. She will keep you from wrong do- 
 ing." 
 
 As he spoke, the old shepherd pulled a 
 plug out of the top of his staff; and from the 
 hollow place inside, as he turned the staff up- 
 side down, there fell out shining medals and 
 louis-d'ors. He took a medal, pressed it to his 
 lips, and gave it to me. Then he took one of 
 the gold pieces and also gave it to me, saying: 
 "The medal is a coin that will save your soul 
 from sin, and the louis-d'or is a coin that will 
 keep your body from poverty and harm. If
 
 of tl)e Marseilles Battalion. 183 
 
 ever you chance to fall into the hands of those 
 whom you believe are such wicked people, 
 those whom you call Anti-Patriots, show them 
 your medal and it will save your life. But 
 speak not to any one of what you have just 
 seen and heard. Now I must leave you. I 
 am in haste. May God take you in his holy 
 keeping." 
 
 As he talked to me the old shepherd gently 
 stroked my cheeks as Monsieur Randoulet was 
 used to do when he met me on the road to 
 the Chateau de la Garde, and I felt him mak- 
 ing with his thumb the sign of the cross on 
 my forehead. Then, followed by his sheep, 
 he went quickly down the other side of the 
 road; and as he passed away from me I 
 still heard him repeating: "Poor child! Poor 
 child!" 
 
 I was so surprised that I just stared after 
 him and never said thank you. I watched 
 him until he was hidden from me by a dip in the 
 land, and then I came back to my bundle, all 
 open and spread out on the bridge. Somehow 
 this encounter had upset me and changed my 
 thoughts. Neither pistols nor red scarf amused 
 me any more. I began to put together my 
 bundle again; and while doing this I heard the 
 sound of horses galloping beyond the very
 
 1 84 l)e ttebs of ll)e ittiM. 
 
 flowering hedge from behind which the shep- 
 herd had come forth with his flock. 
 
 I turned around quickly ; and to my amaze- 
 ment I saw four mounted gendarmes, cockade 
 in hat, with drawn swords and pistols stuck 
 in their belts, riding straight toward me at full 
 gallop as if they meant to cut me down. But 
 they drew up short on the bridge, and their 
 leader asked me sharply: "Citizen Patriot, 
 have you seen pass here a shepherd with a dull 
 brown cloak around him driving a little flock 
 of sheep ? " 
 
 My blood ran cold at this question, for it 
 showed me that trouble was in store for the 
 poor old man. Instantly, without stopping 
 to think about it, I answered: "No!" 
 
 "That's a pity," said the roughest looking 
 of the lot. "We should have stuck to his 
 tracks. Then the country would be safer, for 
 we would have delivered the Revolution from 
 its worst enemy." 
 
 What the fellow said startled me. Could it 
 be possible that the old shepherd was an ene- 
 my to the good cause ? I was sorry 1 had said 
 no so quickly, and I corrected myself by add- 
 ing: "I did not see him, but if I do not mis- 
 take 1 heard the sheep-bells down there along 
 the river path."
 
 of ll)c Marseilles Battalion. 185 
 
 "That must be he," said the leader of the 
 gendarmes; and in a moment they had turned 
 their horses and had gone galloping along the 
 path the old shepherd had followed when he 
 left me. 
 
 At first I scarcely realized what had passed, 
 and then I began to be frightened. Ought I to 
 hold my tongue about it all, or ought I to tell 
 Vauclair, I wondered; while the blood mounted 
 up into my cheeks and my heart beat fast. I 
 hoped that the old man had taken a cross-road 
 and would not be caught, for I felt that I had 
 set his pursuers on his track. And then, as I 
 did not know what I ought to do, I went back 
 to my bundle and began to put it together 
 again. The sun was going down and I knew 
 that it soon would be time for the Battalion to 
 start. Some of our men came up on the bridge 
 while 1 still was fussing over my bundle and 
 staring along the path that the old shepherd 
 had taken and presently I thought that I 
 could hear, above their talking, the sound of 
 more distant voices and the jingling of bells. 
 
 I was right. A minute or so later I saw red 
 plumes showing through the willows, and then 
 out came the four gendarmes cruelly drag- 
 ging after them the poor old shepherd tied fast 
 to a horse's tail as if he had been a robber.
 
 i86 Ql\)e Hefts of il)e ittibi. 
 
 He was in danger of being crushed by the feet 
 of the prancing and kicking horses, who 
 knocked him about and covered him with their 
 sweat and foam. As the gendarmes rode up to 
 us on the bridge they raised their swords and 
 shouted "Vive la Nation!" and our men, of 
 course, crowded around them asking questions. 
 
 "What has he done?" demanded Captain 
 Gamier. 
 
 "It seems to me," said Samat, "that you 
 are pretty hard on him. No doubt he is an 
 Anti-Patriot; but let him go now and 1 will 
 give him The Rights of Man to munch on "- 
 and he began to unfurl his banner. 
 
 "He is a traitor, a miserable wretch that 
 death is too good for. Vive la Nation! " an- 
 swered the leader of the gendarmes. 
 
 At this answer each man had his own 
 thread to spin. " Let him be tried at once and 
 give him Marseilles plums to taste! " cried one. 
 "No, powder's too good to waste on traitors. 
 A rope necklace is good enough for him ! " 
 cried another. "Into the river with him!" 
 cried a third. Every one had his say; and in 
 the midst of it all the poor old man's heart 
 died out of him and, pale as death, he dropped 
 down on the road. 
 
 It was pitiful to see him drop that wav.
 
 of tlje Marseilles Sattalicm. 187 
 
 With the help of two or three Federals who 
 were as sorry for him as I was, 1 lifted him up 
 and seated him on the parapet of the bridge 
 beside my still open bundle; and while the 
 gendarmes were talking together, settling how 
 they would carry him on one of their horses if 
 he couldn't or wouldn't walk, I quickly un- 
 corked my brandy-flask and put it to his lips. 
 The strength of the liquor brought back some 
 life into him and he opened his eyes. Taking 
 my hand in his, he whispered so that no one 
 but I heard him: "Thank you, my child. 
 May God repay you." 
 
 Seeing him so sickly, so weak, so old, our 
 men changed their key and fell to pitying him, 
 muttering that unless he were a very great 
 traitor he might as well be let go. I was long- 
 ing to get rid of the weight on my heart that 
 came from having given him into the hands of 
 his enemies, and these mutterings gave me 
 courage to step up to the gendarmes who 
 were preparing to hoist him on one of the 
 horses and to say: "This man is half dead, he 
 can not do any harm. What difference can it 
 make to us whether he is a Patriot or an Anti- 
 Patriot ? Let him go and take care of his flock 
 which is most likely all he owns on earth, 
 he and his poor wife and children."
 
 1 88 aije ttebs of tl)e iflibi. 
 
 "Our little man is quite right," called out 
 several of our men together. 
 
 "He's right, is he? I'll show you if he's 
 right ! " answered one of the gendarmes angrily ; 
 and, tumbling off his horse, he flung himself 
 like a wolf on the old shepherd and dragged 
 from his shoulders his big cloak. And there 
 Saints of God! there was our old man in a 
 handsome violet robe with a band of fine lace 
 and a golden cross that shone on his breast! 
 "Here's the poor man you were sorry for!" 
 cried the gendarme. " He is neither more nor 
 less than the Bishop of Mende, the ci-devant 
 Monseigneur de Castillane; and, just as you 
 see him here, he is the commander of twenty 
 thousand Royalists who are holding the camp 
 of Jales. And do you want to know where he 
 was going ? He was going, the traitor, to 
 join the emigres and foreigners who are plot- 
 ting together to ruin the Revolution. I'll prove 
 it to you look here!" As he spoke, he 
 snatched the shepherd's staff from him and 
 pulled out the plug and turned it upside 
 down. Out poured medals and louis-d'ors; 
 and then, as he shook it, out came a roll 
 of parchment. The gendarme spread open 
 the roll before us; and Commandant Mois- 
 son, reading it, cried out: "You are right.
 
 of tf)e ittaraeilles Battalion. 189 
 
 This man is a traitor. Here is the Royalist 
 plot!" 
 
 Our men needed no more. "To the river 
 with him!" "Kill him!" "Death to the 
 traitor!" they shouted; and there was a rush 
 toward him and hands were raised and swords 
 were drawn. But the gendarmes guarded him 
 while they tied him fast to the tail of a horse 
 again ; and the leader said grimly : " No, friends, 
 this piece of work we will attend to ourselves! " 
 And so they rode away. 
 
 In a couple of minutes we lost sight of 
 them, and then our drums beat and we started 
 again on our march. 
 
 As we went onward our men sang and 
 joked and talked about the lucky capture of 
 the Bishop. But I kept silence. The louis- 
 d'or and the medal burnt my pocket. I could 
 not bear to think about them. Traitor or not, 
 I felt very sorry for the old man. My heart 
 almost failed me when, as we came out on the 
 other side of the bridge, I saw his deserted 
 sheep wandering about aimlessly. The poor 
 beasts would crop a while, and then suddenly 
 would stop eating; and with their mouths 
 full of grass they would look around in 
 every direction, bleating piteously for their 
 lost shepherd. After we had marched a
 
 of 
 
 good way we still could hear them forlornly 
 bleating. 
 
 Our long tramp began to tell on us, and as 
 we marched the men became more and more 
 silent. The kits and accoutrements, so easy 
 to carry at first, grew to be an intolerable bur- 
 den on our backs. Many of the men fell foot- 
 sore and some of the lamest took off their 
 shoes, finding it more comfortable to jog along 
 barefoot in the soft dust of the road. I was 
 harnessed again to my cannon, and I tugged 
 away patiently. 
 
 We had reached an evil land, a place of 
 Aristocrats. The country through which we 
 were passing was dreary and dismal, and was 
 overhung by a dreary dull sky made still more 
 dull by the long flocks of crows flying across 
 it. In every direction, as far as we could see, 
 great fields of beans and beets and vetches 
 stretched on and on with never a tree in them. 
 The houses and huts were roofed with slates 
 of a dismal black, and the stern and silent peo- 
 ple living there were like the land. Everybody 
 we met on the road or in the villages gave us 
 sidewise suspicious glances, such as a dog 
 gives when he is carrying off a bone. The 
 people all looked alike with their big, pale, 
 pasty-white, close-shaven, dirty, hang-dog,
 
 Jttarcl) of li)c iHarseilU0 Battalion, 19* 
 
 stupid animal faces all jowl. They never gave 
 us a smile, much less a bottle of wine; they 
 gave us nothing, indeed, but the cold shoulder, 
 and so slouched away. When at a safe dis- 
 tance, they turned and shook their fists at us. 
 Even the sun hid himself behind a dull thick 
 mist, like a dead man under a shroud; and yet 
 his heat was overpoweringly oppressive. 
 
 On we tramped dully and doggedly, hun- 
 gry, ,weary and footsore. We had no heart for 
 laugh or song. Commandant Moisson and 
 Captain Gamier began to be uneasy, fearing 
 that we would lose heart. They mingled in 
 the ranks, doing all they could to cheer us. 
 They told us of the wretched condition of the 
 people of France and how the wretchedness 
 would be relieved as soon as we reached Paris 
 and seized the King's Castle. Only nine days 
 more of marching, they said, and the coun- 
 try would be saved, the Revolution trium- 
 phant. Then all men would be free and all 
 hunger satisfied. The harvests of the land 
 would belong to those who had sown the seed 
 thereof; the fruits of the land would be gath- 
 ered by those who had grafted the trees and 
 delved about their roots; to the shepherd 
 would belong the sheep. 
 
 As for me, I needed no cheering words. 
 14
 
 192 8Tl)e fteb0 of tl)e 
 
 Stones were bread for me, I could have eaten 
 thistles and thorns, I could have walked on 
 broken glass, nothing could have discouraged 
 me. I pulled away like a galley-slave in my 
 harness only wishing that I could drag both 
 the cannon and the forge all by myself. It 
 hurt me to hear the older men, who had left 
 wife and child in Marseilles or Aubagne or 
 Aries, muttering among themselves, as if 
 afraid of being overheard: "Who knows how 
 all this is going to end ? " " We didn't know 
 Paris was so far away ! " " The National Guard 
 is all for the King and may go against us." 
 " It seems we are to be forced to camp outside 
 of Paris." "Then all our long tramp will have 
 been for nothing!" And so they grumbled 
 on. It just broke my heart to hear them talk 
 in this way. To cheer myself and to get some 
 go into me, I would burst out into the " Mar- 
 seillaise " and that for a moment would heart- 
 en up the whole Battalion. 
 
 But the endless road was always the same 
 long weary way, lengthened out like a bread- 
 less day. The villages and hamlets were 
 always as dismal as their dull distrustful stupid 
 inhabitants, not one of whom would have 
 freely given us so much as a drop of water. 
 Had their eyes been knives, they would have
 
 of tlje Marseilles Battalion. 193 
 
 stabbed us through and through. How could 
 we, then, be light of heart? God's fire was 
 fast dying out of our cold breasts and we 
 needed some great stirring to kindle it anew. 
 
 Macon, Tournus and Chalons were left be- 
 hind. We had just marched through Autun 
 a hateful Aristocratical hole without any one 
 giving us a good word. It was about five 
 o'clock and the sun was low. I was pulling 
 away in my harness and Vauclair was walking 
 beside me. He seemed thoughtful and sad 
 as he said to me: "I don't see why the 
 Avignon coach has not caught up with us. 
 Can anything have happened to it? I feel 
 anxious. I long so to see Lazuli and my dear 
 little Clairet. Lazuli certainly told you that she 
 would take the very first coach that left Avi- 
 gnon ? " 
 
 "Yes, certainly; and she said she would 
 pass us on the way." 
 
 "The coach pays tribute to the robbers of 
 the Bos de la Damo, and so is safe from them," 
 Vauclair went on. " But there are the King's 
 carabineer's, who are not less, perhaps are 
 even more, to be dreaded than the robbers. 
 But at the very latest, if nothing has happened, 
 the coach ought certainly to catch up with us 
 by to-morrow at Saulieu, where we shall camp
 
 194 l)e Eebs of tlje ittibi. 
 
 to-night. Saulieu is a town full of good Pa- 
 triots " 
 
 Vauclair did not finish what he was saying. 
 All of a sudden we heard the shrieks of women 
 and children coming, as it seemed, from a hut 
 about a sling-shot away from the road a poor 
 little place, so low that its thatched roof looked 
 to be almost a part of the ground. 
 
 " Help! Help! " came the cry in a woman's 
 voice. In a moment a dozen of our men had 
 jumped the ditch and were running across the 
 beet-fields to find out what was the matter. 
 As they entered the hut the cries and screams 
 ceased; and presently they came back to us, 
 bringing prisoner a red-faced Capuchin monk, 
 so fat that he seemed as if he would burst his 
 tight skin, and three bailiffs as thin as rails and 
 yellow as saffron. After them followed a peas- 
 ant and his wife, and then came a troop of 
 ragged dirty faced children that looked just as 
 I used to look up there in the hut of La Garde. 
 
 "What's all this row?" asked Comman- 
 dant Moisson, looking sternly at the Capuchin 
 and the three bailiffs shivering and cringing in 
 the clutches of our men. 
 
 "The matter is," said Margan, who was 
 always ready to put in his word, "that this 
 Capuchin father, who already is bursting out
 
 of tl)e Marseilles Battalion. 195 
 
 of his skin from over-eating, brought the three 
 bailiffs with him to carry off this poor peasant 
 and give him the strappado because he hasn't 
 paid his tithe of chickens. " 
 
 "What! Tithes no w-a-days! " cried long 
 Samat "Why, all that sort of thing has been 
 abolished by The Rights of Man ! " And then 
 turning toward the Capuchin, he added: 
 "And so we are no longer in France you 
 dirty bundle of lard! " 
 
 "But that isn't all," Margan went on. 
 "The old glutton had got loose the peasant's 
 cow and was for taking her away too so that 
 he should be paid for his trouble, he said." 
 
 Our men were all on fire in a moment over 
 this outrage, and some of them began to cast 
 loose the straps from the cannon in order to 
 make the Capuchin and the bailiffs for once in 
 their lives taste leather. But the Commandant 
 raised his hand for silence and said: "It is 
 strange that a thing of this sort should go on 
 in France now-a-days. We must make an 
 example of those four Anti-Patriots. They 
 shall be stripped as bare as worms, and with- 
 out a thread on them they shall haul the forge 
 to Paris! Margan, you be driver; and if they 
 need food to make them go, do you feed them 
 well with dry blows! "
 
 of tte ittibi. 
 
 When the Capuchin heard this he clasped 
 his hands and then crossed himself. Margan 
 dragged off his habit, while some of the other 
 Federals took the rags off the three bailiffs. 
 Then the monk, with a bailiff on each side of 
 him, was clapped into the harness; the third 
 bailiff was hitched in front of them for a leader; 
 the drums struck up the quick-step, and off 
 we marched to 
 
 Que veut cette horde d'esclaves, 
 De traitres, de rois conjures ? 
 
 As for the peasant and his wife, they stood 
 staring after us not knowing whether to laugh 
 or to cry. 
 
 Twilight was falling as, hungry and weary 
 and footstore, we neared the longed-for little 
 town of Saulieu. Since we had left Vienne, 
 six days before, we had not seen a single 
 woman with a smiling face; nor had we heard 
 a friendly word nor received a friendly glance. 
 We had slept as we could on the bare ground, 
 on the short grass growing on the sloping road 
 side, even in dry ditches. Our only drink had 
 been water, sometimes from wells and brooks, 
 sometimes from ditches; and our food had been 
 bread and garlic. Many of us had gone bare- 
 foot either to ease our blistered feet or to save
 
 of tl)e Jttarseiiles Battalion. 197 
 
 our precious shoes. And all of us were worn 
 with marching. For five and twenty days, 
 marching steadily, the Battalion had been on 
 the road. 
 
 But at last we were to be welcomed and 
 made much of in a friendly Patriotic town. 
 Yet even this pleasant promise had in it for me 
 a touch of bitterness. As I looked around me 
 and saw all our men with their bushy dusty 
 beards, while my round boyish face was as 
 smooth as an egg though I was as dusty and 
 sunburnt as any one I was in despair. The 
 people in Saulieu certainly would think that I 
 was only a little boy. To have had a nice 
 thick dusty uncombed black beard I would 
 gladly have been as long and thin and pock- 
 marked as old Margan. Suddenly I had an 
 idea. I had gathered a capful of ripe black- 
 berries while they were harnessing up the 
 monk and the bailiffs, and the thought came 
 to me that I might stain my face to look like a 
 beard. I put my fine plan straight into prac- 
 tice. Taking the blackest and ripest berries, I 
 crushed them under my nose, on my chin, on 
 both cheeks, and smeared my face till I made 
 an absurd fright of myself. Even Vauclair, 
 who was the first to catch sight of me, did 
 not recognise rne at once; and soon all the
 
 i9 8 ^ fte&s of tlje iflibi. 
 
 men were laughing at my childish foolish- 
 ness. 
 
 All the people of Saulieu turned out to 
 meet us with torches and drums and trumpets, 
 hailing us with shouts of "Vive la Nation!" 
 "Down with the tyrant!" "Vive les Mar- 
 seillais!" while up in the church towers the 
 bells were ringing the tocsin of the Revolu- 
 tion. The men of the Patriots' Club had 
 lighted a big bonfire which was blazing away 
 in front of the church of Saint-Saturnin. and 
 we almost had to come to fisticuffs to keep 
 them from feeding the fire with the fat monk 
 and the bailiffs. 
 
 The Saulieu people were good Patriots. 
 From father to son they had handed down the 
 memory of the old times when their Pastou- 
 rells were persecuted and tormented as our 
 Albigenses had been. The men of Saulieu 
 never forgot all that had been forced down 
 their throats in the name of the King and for 
 the sake of religion. Bitter bread had they 
 eaten in the days of their Pastourells, and they 
 knew that the hour of vengeance at last had 
 struck for the downtrodden and the perse- 
 cuted ! 
 
 How good they were to us in Saulieu! 
 They gave us all the wine we could swallow
 
 of tl)e Marseilles Battalion. 199 
 
 and all the good things we could eat. We 
 had enough beef a la daube to go over our 
 ears ! The only drawback was that these good 
 people talked in a sort of half French and half 
 patois that the devil himself must have given 
 them. 
 
 And what a joy it was to see them fall on 
 their knees when we burst forth into "Aux 
 armes, citoyens!" The roar of the voices 
 mingled with the crackling of the flames of the 
 big bonfire. The bright light flashed in our 
 faces and sent great shadows flying up the 
 church front as the men feeding the fire stooped 
 and rose, or as caps and hats were waved in 
 the air or brandished on pikes and guns. The 
 huge blaze which made the sky seem darker 
 and deeper and blacker looked like the mouth 
 of hell belching forth whirlwinds of smoke and 
 flame, while flying sparks circled round and 
 round. 
 
 In the midst of the rejoicing Vauclair seized 
 my hand and said as he drew me out of the 
 crowd: "Come with me to the post-house. 
 The coach may have arrived already. Lazuli 
 and Clairet may be there now." 
 
 Off we went, finding our way as well as 
 we could through the dark and narrow streets 
 of Saulieu. It is but a little town, and 'we soon
 
 200 ije $Ubs of tlje ittibi. 
 
 reached the Paris highway ; and far off in the 
 black night we saw a lantern dangling over 
 the door of what we knew must be the post- 
 house. Presently, when we had reached the 
 lantern-lit doorway, we crossed the big yards 
 and went by the great sheds where the carters 
 were coming and going, lantern in hand, load- 
 ing or unloading their wagons or setting them 
 in order for the march of the next day. We 
 passed in front of the dark warm quiet stables, 
 hearing the sound of the horses and mules 
 munching their sweet-smelling hay or crunch- 
 ing away at their comforting oats. 
 
 "See, look there!" cried Vauclair, much 
 excited and quickening his pace. "There is 
 the Avignon coach certainly that is it! I 
 should know it anywhere by its high leathern 
 cover and green and yellow body and red cur- 
 tainslet alone by the sound of that little dog's 
 bark, the loubet up there on top." 
 
 We hurried on into the inn kitchen, all 
 lighted up by a blaze of furze before which 
 turkeys and legs of mutton were turning around 
 on the spit. The servants were going and 
 coming with plates and bottles and jugs. No 
 one took any notice of us, and we went on 
 into the big room where all the travellers were 
 at table. And then, before we had seen her,
 
 of tlje ittarseilUe Battalion. 201 
 
 Lazuli flung herself on Vauclair's neck, hugging 
 and kissing him and crying: "My own man! 
 My Vauclair!" and presently adding: "At 
 last we've got here. There is little Clairet 
 asleep on the bench in the corner. Wake him 
 up yourself for three days he has been calling 
 for his father! " 
 
 Vauclair was so upset that he couldn't say 
 a word. He followed Lazuli as she made her 
 way among the crowded tables ; and I followed 
 too unable to understand why Lazuli had not 
 even spoken to me, let alone given me a kiss. 
 
 Little Clairet was fast asleep, wrapped up in 
 his mother's fringed shawl. Lazuli picked him 
 up, stood him on his feet, and as she shook him 
 gently said to him : " Clairet, Clairet my darling, 
 wake up here is your father! " But the little 
 fellow was so dead with sleep he could not 
 open his eyes nor hold up his head. Vauclair 
 took him in his arms, and as he kissed him, 
 rubbing his cheeks with his rough beard, the 
 child began to waken. The bright light 
 bothered him, and at first he put his elbow up 
 over his eyes; but his father's voice at last 
 roused him completely and as he recognised 
 him he hugged him round the neck. 
 
 All this time I was waiting for my turn to 
 come; and Vauclair, seeing me, said to the
 
 ftebs of 
 
 little fellow: " Haven't you a kiss for Pascalet, 
 who gave you his grapes ? Come, give him a 
 good hug." But as Clairet caught sight of me 
 he threw himself back as if I had been the 
 devil with all his horns! 
 
 At this Lazuli gave a little jump, and as she 
 clapped her hands and burst out laughing, she 
 exclaimed: " Heavens and earth! Is that Pas- 
 calet? What has he been doing to himself? 
 What's that black all over his cheeks ? Oh, 
 what a scarecrow of a black snout! " 
 
 And then I remembered that I still was all 
 stained with the blackberries, and feeling as 
 flat as a quoit I ran to the kitchen to clean my- 
 self. I plunged my face into a bucket of water 
 and rubbed hard enough to take the skin 
 off, and then ran back. This time Clairet 
 knew me and kissed me, and Lazuli kissed 
 me too. 
 
 The Avignon coachman, having fed his 
 horses, had come to the next table and gave us 
 a friendly look as he began to eat on both sides 
 of his mouth at once. Lazuli soaked a biscuit 
 in wine, and while she fed Clairet with it told 
 all that had happened in Avignon after we left 
 and during her journey. 
 
 "You will never guess," said she, "who is 
 in the coach with us, going to Paris ! She's a
 
 of tlje iUarseilUs Battalion. 203 
 
 nasty neighbour, I can tell you, and I haven't 
 opened my mouth to her the whole way." 
 
 "Who is it?" asked Vauclair. 
 
 "Of all people in the world, it's Lajaca- 
 rasse! She has brought along her bag and her 
 big knife; and on top of the foulness that 
 comes of her pig-cleaning she has a breath 
 that fairly reeks of wine. But her nastiness is 
 no great matter. What touches my heart is 
 the young girl she has with her, I'm sure 
 against her will a child not more than fifteen 
 who is as pretty and sweet and charming as 
 she can be. I can see the poor little soul 
 tremble and shiver with fear whenever La 
 Jacarasse looks at her or makes any sign to 
 her. Poor lamb, what will that woman do 
 with her! There is something all wrong 
 about it." 
 
 " There certainly is something wrong about 
 it," said the coachman, turning toward us and 
 lowering his voice. "Things are happening 
 now-a-days that make one shudder. Did you 
 hear that a few days ago in Avignon some 
 fishermen from the Porte de la Ligne found in 
 the Rhone, caught against the first pier of the 
 bridge of Saint-Benezet, the body of the young 
 Marquis de Roberty, bound and disem- 
 bowelled ? Well, folks say that La Jacarasse
 
 fte&0 of llje iilibi. 
 
 and two or three other wretches cut him open 
 and threw him into the river. And I happen 
 to know that this very Marquis de Roberty 
 was betrothed to the very young lady who is 
 with La Jacarasse now. Her name has clean 
 gone out of my head, though I knew it when 
 we left Avignon. Now don't a two and two 
 like that make four ? I am sure that the old 
 she devil has another crime in hand, and that 
 she will work it against this innocent child. 
 It is easy to see that the poor girl is half dead 
 with fear of what may be going to happen to 
 her." 
 
 But here the coachman suddenly remem- 
 bered that time was passing and stopped short 
 in his talk. 
 
 " We must be off in less than half an hour," 
 he said, and fell to finishing his supper taking 
 a bit of bread and sopping up every drop of 
 gravy on his plate and polishing it till it looked 
 as clean as if it had just come out of the dish- 
 tub. Then he got up clumsily, balancing his 
 heavy shoulders as is the way with carters, 
 and went lumbering off to make ready for the 
 starting of the coach. 
 
 "Less than half an hour more," said Vau- 
 clair. "Now listen, Lazuli, and don't forget 
 what I tell you : As soon as you get to Paris
 
 of tlje Marseilles Battalion. 205 
 
 go to my old master Planchot, the joiner. He 
 lives at the end of the Impasse Guemenee, 
 opening from the Rue Saint-Antoine, a little 
 way off the Place de la Bastille. It is on the 
 Place de la Bastille that you leave the coach. 
 When you get to the house you must say to 
 Master Planchot: 'I am the wife of Vauclair, 
 who worked a year of his time with you. 
 He is coming up with the Marseilles Battalion 
 to help settle the affairs of the Revolution, and 
 he sent me on before to hire the lodging that 
 he used to have here in your house.' You will 
 see how pleased the master will be, and how 
 gladly he will rent you my old lodging with 
 its little kitchen and all. There you will be 
 safe and quiet; and if any bad luck comes to 
 me or to Pascalet, we will be much better off 
 there than on a bed in a barracks or in a hos- 
 pital. But the first thing of all is that you 
 don't forget the name of the street where 
 Planchot lives Impasse Guemenee. Say it 
 over after me, Impasse Guemenee. " 
 
 "Guemenee, Impasse Guemenee. All right, 
 I won't forget it," Lazuli answered; and laughed 
 as she added: "How one has to bring one's 
 lips to a point to talk like those Paris don- 
 keys!" 
 
 "And now another thing," said Vauclair.
 
 206 (Elje Hebs of tl]e JttiM. 
 
 "Did you get some silver money before leav- 
 ing Avignon ?" 
 
 "Don't worry I sold my little trinkets 
 and my carved ivory crucifix to Nathan the 
 Jew, and that made me all right." As she 
 spoke, Lazuli took Vauclair's hand and put 
 it under her shawl, at the same time add- 
 ing in a low voice: "There, feel how I have 
 sewed my yellow and white money in the lin- 
 ing of my waist. The coachman swore to us 
 that he had paid toll to all the bands that 
 haunt the road to Paris still, one never knows 
 what may happen and it's well to be on the 
 safe side." 
 
 "You're a treasure of a woman!" cried 
 Vauclair, as he bent forward and kissed her. 
 Almost in the same moment he turned round 
 suddenly saying : ' ' What's that I hear ? There 
 are our drums beating the recall; and the 
 alarm-bells ringing, too. Something has hap- 
 pened. Quick, Pascalet, take your gun. Good- 
 bye, Lazuli a safe trip to you. Clairet, my 
 dear little Clairet, good-bye." Vauclair took 
 up the child in his arms and kissed him, while 
 his eyes filled with tears. And I, clumsily 
 loaded down with my sword and gun and 
 bundle, also kissed Clairet and Lazuli and said 
 good-bye.
 
 0f tl)e ,HarseiUe0 Battalion. 207 
 
 By this time the drums were beating furi- 
 ously and the bells were ringing louder and 
 louder. One more kiss and a last word. 
 "Lazuli, remember, when you get to Paris go 
 straight to old Planchot's. Impasse Guemenee, 
 you hear ? " As we pushed forward to the 
 door we heard behind us, back in the depths 
 of the inn, the harsh rough voice of La Jaca- 
 rasse calling out to the serving- woman : ' ' Here, 
 bring me another jug of wine!" And then 
 the serving-woman passed us, muttering : 
 " Dirty pig, I wish it might choke you! " 
 
 In a moment more we were in the street, 
 running through the dark night to join the Bat- 
 talion and to find out what had caused the 
 alarm. We ran through streets and open 
 spaces without meeting a living soul; hearing 
 now and then a shutter pulled in and barred, 
 or a key turned in the lock, or a bolt pushed 
 fast by timid folk who were shutting them- 
 selves up in their houses. 
 
 The smoke from the dying bonfire and the 
 shouting and singing of the crowd guided us 
 on our way through the crooked streets; 
 and, somehow or other, we came out all right 
 on the big open space in front of the church. 
 There we found our men all in line, with guns 
 shouldered and bayonets mounted ready to 
 15
 
 of 
 
 start. In front of the Battalion was a man on 
 horseback, at whom I stared with all my 
 might to try and make out who he was 
 with his cocked hat and with his gilt but- 
 tons which sparkled in the faint rays coming 
 from the few embers left of the great brush 
 fire. Just then the drummers who had been 
 drumming the recall through all the streets 
 came back, making a most tremendous racket. 
 The Battalion burst forth into the "Marseil- 
 laise." The crowd clapped hands, shouted, 
 screamed, sang and howled, while the bells 
 kept on madly pealing the tocsin. Never can 
 I forget the roar that in that sombre night rose 
 from the throats of thousands of men. Over- 
 topping the roaring crowd, like a black statue 
 sharply defined against the starry sky, was the 
 silent motionless man on horseback. 
 
 Suddenly the horse stamped, striking out 
 sparks from the paving stones. The horseman, 
 raising his arm, motioned to the crowd to keep 
 silence. As if by enchantment, the cries, the 
 songs stopped, the drums ceased beating, the 
 bells rang no more, and there was utter and sol- 
 emn silence. Then the man on horseback spoke 
 to us: "My brave men of Marseilles, I have 
 ridden full speed from Paris to tell you what 
 is being said and planned there. The Anti-
 
 of tl)e Marseilles Battalion. 209 
 
 Patriots, the Counter-Revolutionists, the Aris- 
 tocrats, all slaves of the King, have reported 
 everywhere that you are brigands, that you 
 have escaped from the galleys at Toulon, that 
 you are the scrapings of the port of Marseilles, 
 that you are Corsican bandits! They say that 
 you have pillaged, burned, pulled down, mur- 
 dered, and torn open all on your way hither. 
 They even say that you crucified an old Canon 
 at the door of the club in Avignon, and that 
 you killed and quartered the Bishop of Mende- 
 at the bridge of Saint-Jean d'Ardieres and 
 who knows how much more they've said of 
 this same sort! King Capet the tyrant who 
 has made a covenant with foreigners to invade 
 France and massacre all French Patriots wants 
 to keep you from coming to Paris : so that he 
 can the more easily bring his Germans and 
 Austrians into France. The King plotted this 
 black treason with the generals of the Emperor. 
 If we had not caught and stopped him at 
 Varennes the unnatural traitor would now be 
 at the head of more than a hundred thousand 
 foreigners : thirty thousand Austrians from the 
 North, fifteen thousand Germans to come by 
 way of Alsace, fifteen thousand Italians to come 
 through Dauphiny, twenty-five thousand Span- 
 iards to come across the Pyrenees, and as many
 
 210 l)e ttebs of tlje Xttibi. 
 
 Swiss to invade us through Burgundy. This 
 swarm of stranger enemies was to be spread 
 like a pest over all our France of the Revolu- 
 tion; and, led by the tyrant himself and by the 
 emigre nobility, it was to have given back full 
 power to the King. And then woe to the 
 Poor! Good-bye to Liberty! Farewell to the 
 Rights of Man! 
 
 " This same King Capet says that you shall 
 not go to Paris; that he will bar the way. 
 King Capet says you shall go to Soissons. 
 King Capet in his foolhardiness does not under- 
 stand that we men of the South fear nor pow- 
 der nor fire nor steel! He does not know that, 
 backed by the wrath of all Southern France, 
 you come to abolish the throne, to smite into 
 pieces the crown, to take vengeance for the 
 past! King Capet says you shall go to Sois- 
 sons. Has King Capet forgotten that there in 
 Soissons is the famous axe with which his an- 
 cestor Clovis cowardly murdered his poor sol- 
 dier? You, who are the strong arm of God, 
 will lift up that same axe and with it you will 
 cleave Capet's head from his shoulders! Up, 
 men of Marseilles! Up, Patriots! Rise up for 
 Death or Liberty! " 
 
 So saying, the man swung his horse around 
 and cried out to us as he galloped off into the
 
 ittarcl) of tl)e Jttarseillee Battalion. 211 
 
 darkness: " I go before to tell to the men of 
 the Revolution and to the Patriot Barbaroux 
 that the Marseilles Battalion is advancing at a 
 forced march on Paris. Vive la Nation ! " 
 
 " Vive Rebecqui! Vive Barbaroux! Vive 
 la Nation! Down with the tyrant! " answered 
 we in one formidable shout as the horseman 
 vanished into the night on his way to Paris. 
 
 Commandant Moisson flashed his sabre and 
 cried to us: "Boys, the Marseilles Battalion 
 starts now and rests no more. There is nor 
 stop nor pause for us until we camp on the 
 threshold of King Capet's Castle ! " 
 
 The Battalion answered him by bursting 
 out into "Allons enfants de la Patrie!" The 
 drums beat the quick-step; and off we 
 marched, with the strength of God's thunder 
 in our bones. We were as vigorous and as 
 strong as the day we had started on the Paris 
 road. 
 
 Out of the way, you weak blooded monk! 
 Scat! you sick silkworms of bailiffs! We want 
 no more of your help. And again we har- 
 nessed ourselves to our cannon and, sweating 
 and singing, went joyously on our way. 
 
 I kept wondering who was this man Re- 
 becqui, this man on horseback who had spoken 
 so well. Rebecqui, Rebecqui, who was he ?
 
 ftebs of tl)e XUibi. 
 
 Everybody said that he was from Paris, but if 
 so then the- Paris people spoke as they did in 
 Avignon. He must be such another, I decided, 
 as that Barbaroux who was waiting for us up 
 in Paris; Barbaroux whom every one idolized, 
 Barbaroux who was to save the Revolution. 
 And so, thinking no more about him, I took 
 up our chorus: " Aux armes, citoyens! " 
 
 The good red wine we had drunk, the 
 tocsin that we still could hear off in the dis- 
 tance, and above all the fiery words of that 
 Rebecqui, had put new life into us. Never 
 had we marched more steadily, never had we 
 felt less weariness or more go. When we 
 were not singing the "Marseillaise" we were 
 shouting "Down with the tyrant! We'll get 
 into Paris. We'll get into his Castle. He 
 doesn't want us there, but he'll have to have 
 us! " And then we would close up our ranks 
 and burst out again with: " Amour sacre de la 
 Patrie!" 
 
 At daybreak, still singing, we marched 
 through a big town I don't remember its 
 name where we had been told that King 
 Capet with his army and the people around 
 were to bar our way. But not a soul was 
 stirring no one was in the streets. We made 
 the houses shake as we marched through.
 
 of tlje Marseilles Battalion. 213 
 
 Samat unfurled the banner of The Rights of 
 Man, but he couldn't find any one to kiss it 
 until he caught sight of an early beadle who 
 was opening the doors of a church. He dashed 
 upon the bewildered beadle, and when he had 
 made him kiss the banner he burst into the 
 church like a whirlwind and marched- around 
 it holding up his banner to be kissed by all the 
 saints of wood and stone; and when this mat- 
 ter had been settled to his satisfaction he came 
 running up to us, all out of breath to take again 
 his place in the ranks. 
 
 When the sun had sucked up the mists so 
 that his sharp rays stung our necks like needles, 
 we halted on the banks of a stream and ate 
 our pittance of dry bread and garlic. But our 
 halt was short. We were charged with God's 
 thunder and the thought of our high duty 
 urged us on. Some of the men began to drag 
 behind, limping on bleeding feet; but they 
 struggled along bravely and would not give in. 
 To drown the murmurs of pain, which even 
 the best of them could not wholly stifle, we 
 sang the " Marseillaise." 
 
 This terrible forced march lasted altogether 
 for seven days and seven nights. As we 
 marched we ate our everlasting garlic and 
 bread, the bread often mouldy, and all we had
 
 214 l)e ttebs of tl)e fftibi. 
 
 to drink was water from ponds or way-side 
 ditches. Footsore, hungry, weary still we 
 toiled on. 
 
 Yet we had a laugh now and then as 
 when we passed through a town absurdly 
 named Melun, and made our joke about it by 
 baptizing it Water-melon. It was a little town, 
 packed full of Aristocrats. When its Mayor 
 refused to let us have any bread we grinned on 
 him with our famished white teeth and then 
 he changed his mind in a jiffy and promised 
 us two loaves apiece! While we waited for it 
 we camped outside the city gates for three 
 hours, and when it came we danced around 
 the baskets in a big circle to the tune of "La 
 Carmagnole." After the bread was divided 
 Commandant Moisson said to us: "Boys, this 
 is the last time you will have to chew on coun- 
 try bread may ft set light on your stomachs. 
 In two days or less you will taste the bread of 
 Paris and you will take the taste for bread out 
 of the tyrant's mouth! " 
 
 What the Commandant promised came to 
 pass. The next day we marched through such 
 a forest of oaks and ash and beech that it 
 seemed to me I was back again on Mont Ven- 
 tour. The wood was so shady, the turf so 
 thick and soft, that we made a halt; and as we
 
 0f tl)* ittarseilies Battalion. 215 
 
 were resting, some of us seated on fallen 
 branches, some leaning back against the trees, 
 some stretched out at full length on the soft 
 grass, we were puzzled by hearing a queer 
 noise a dull humming roar, or buzzing mur- 
 mur. Each of us in turn made a guess as to 
 what it was. " It's bees swarming," said one, 
 and we stared up into the branches to see 
 them. "I should say an earthquake," said 
 another, " only earthquakes don't last so long." 
 "The sound seems to come from under- 
 ground," said a third; ''and yet it almost 
 sounds like far off talking, or the firing of can- 
 non very far away." 
 
 "As for me," said long Samat, "I think 
 there is a spring near here that rushes between 
 rocks, like the fountain of Vaucluse." 
 
 " If we weren't so far from Marseilles," put 
 in Margan, "I should say it was the noise of 
 the sea beating against the rocks of our good 
 mother, Notre Dame de la Garde." 
 
 "If only it isn't an army of Aristocrats who 
 are coming to bar the way,'" said Sergeant 
 Peloux, frowning as he spoke. 
 
 The Commandant, smiling to himself, lis- 
 tened to all our guesses and then said: "Well 
 now, if I didn't know you came from Mar- 
 seilles I should say you were from Martigues
 
 216 QLtye IUb0 of tl)e ittibi. 
 
 that town where the people gulp down every 
 fool-story that is told! That noise which 
 puzzles you so is neither swarm, nor earth- 
 quake, nor waterfall, nor breakers on the rocks, 
 nor is it the roar of an army ; good comrades, 
 it is neither more nor less than the voice of 
 that great Paris we come to see! It is the 
 sound of hammers on anvils, of the rumbling 
 of carriages in the streets, of the hum of the 
 market place; it is the voice of the people, the 
 sobs, the laughter, the angry cries, the joyous 
 shouts, of the hundreds and hundreds of thou- 
 sands of souls in the Capital! In it are blended 
 the clarion notes of Liberty, the frank voice of 
 Equality, the sweet tones of Fraternity; and 
 also, alas ! the threatening lying voices of selfish- 
 ness, of despotism, of hypocrisy and of tyranny. 
 Friends, it is said that that dull roar of Paris, 
 that jumble of songs and cries and sobs and 
 laughter, can be heard five leagues away from 
 that great city! " 
 
 Hardly were the words out of the Com- 
 mandant's mouth than we were on our feet, 
 our guns shouldered and our kits fast on our 
 backs. We sang, we shouted! Could it be 
 that we were so near to Paris ! Vive la Revo- 
 lution! Vive Marseilles! Vive Toulon! Vive 
 Avignon ! and we tore branches from the oaks
 
 of Ifye Marseilles Battalion. 217 
 
 and the beeches with which we dressed our 
 guns and our red caps and the gun carriages, 
 and we danced a round to the tune of the 
 "Carmagnole." The drums, instead of beat- 
 ing the everlasting quick-step, set up a buzz- 
 ing like the tambourins on the Saints' days in 
 our villages ; and off we capered in a farandole 
 leaping, jumping, swaying, cutting pigeon- 
 wings, hugging, crying, and all the while shout- 
 ing Paris ! Paris ! Paris at last ! 
 
 We went on in this crazy fashion for a good 
 half hour before we quieted down and got into 
 rank once more; and then we marched gaily 
 out of the shady forest with never a thought ot 
 our past hunger and thirst and weariness and 
 pain. As we came from under the trees the 
 Commandant, pointing with his sword, 
 showed us far away on the edge of the green 
 plain a grey line that took up the whole hori- 
 zon and was broken by towers and spires and 
 had floating over it a little bluish cloud. 
 
 "There is Paris!" said he. 
 
 The whole Battalion, as if the order to halt 
 had been given, stopped short. We stood 
 silent, staring at the horizon. Something 
 gripped fast at our throats and would not let 
 us sing the "Marseillaise." Our eyes were 
 blinded with a rush of tears. The Com man-
 
 ai8 ijtje ftete of tlje ittibi. 
 
 dant made a sign to the drums and off they 
 rattled the quick-step; and as if their rattle 
 had given us back our voices we burst out all 
 together with 
 
 Aliens enfants de la Patrie, 
 Le jour de gloire est arrive! 
 
 Wild, stern, fierce, we ran rather than 
 marched. The carriage of an Aristocrat was 
 driving toward us, but when the coachman 
 caught sight of us he was so frightened that 
 he turned tail and whipped back to Paris at 
 full speed. 
 
 By sundown we were come fairly within 
 one of the outlying suburbs, on the borders of 
 a stream of which I forget the name; and there, 
 suddenly, we saw a lot of people coming to 
 meet us shouting and waving their arms. 
 
 "Vive les Marseillais ! " they cried. 
 
 " Vive les Patriotes!" we answered and 
 in a moment we had broken ranks and flung 
 ourselves into the arms of the crowd. I can 
 tell you there was hugging and kissing! And 
 as fast as the hugging was over, it all began 
 again. Kissing and crying like women, these 
 friends who had come to welcome us told their 
 names Barbaroux, Rebecqui, Danton, San- 
 terre.
 
 iHarcl) of tl)e ittatsnllee Sattolion. 219 
 
 Barbaroux, the famous Barbaroux, the Dep- 
 uty from Marseilles, who with his sweet voice 
 could fairly beguile the soul out of you, hugged 
 our officers all round and said : "To-morrow at 
 daybreak you shall enter Paris and go right to 
 the tyrant to bring him to reason. Here is San- 
 terre, the Commandant of the Garde Nationale, 
 who has promised to meet us with forty thou- 
 sand men, all ready to cry with us : ' Liberty 
 or Death!'" 
 
 At this, every one shouted "Vive Barba- 
 roux," and a few in the crowd shouted also 
 "Vive Santerre!' But a good many of us 
 didn't like the looks of this Santerre the 
 brewer. He spoke in French fashion through 
 his nose, for such is the pretty way of the peo- 
 ple up there in the North. Then he did not 
 let out his feelings as Barbaroux and Rebecqui 
 and Danton had done; nor did he even shake 
 any one's hand. He seemed a sort of imitation 
 fine gentleman, who put on gentle airs and 
 who sneered at our huggings and dancings and 
 singing of " La Carmagnole." 
 
 All this time we of the rank and file were 
 making friends with the good people of the 
 suburb, Patriots all. They mingled with the 
 Battalion and the women and children kissed 
 our hands. They wanted us to sup and bed
 
 220 |)e Ueb0 of tl)e XttiM. 
 
 at their homes fairly fighting to have us, and 
 not being contented unless they had two or 
 three of us apiece. I went off with Margan the 
 chatterer to sup and sleep at the house of a fine 
 fellow of a gardener. And what a feast he 
 gave us! Because we came from the South, 
 he gathered from his hotbeds the very first of 
 his tomatoes and young egg-plants that he 
 might have sold for almost their weight in 
 gold in the Paris markets and with them 
 made for us a paradise of a fricassee! I can 
 tell you our jaws wagged over it after our 
 weeks and weeks of munching only dry bread 
 and garlic and drinking ditch water! And then 
 we slept in a real bed with our shoes off and 
 our legs bare. 
 
 Name of a name, what a short night it was! 
 At two o'clock in the morning, long before the 
 first ray of dawn, the drums beat, the shutters 
 flew open, the doors were unbarred, and the 
 Federals poured out from everywhere, their 
 kits on their backs and their guns on their 
 shoulders ready to march. As for me, down 
 in my pocket I found two well dried black- 
 berries with which I yet managed to make my- 
 self a famous pair of moustachios that I might 
 go into Paris looking like a man. 
 
 Something, I don't know what, kept us
 
 of tl)* 4ttarseiUe0 Battalion. 221 
 
 from starting; and for all our early rising we did 
 not get off until the sun was tipping the poplars 
 with fire and the little birds were beginning to 
 twitter as they waked up in the trees. But 
 this time we started for Paris itself! Barbaroux, 
 Danton, Rebecqui, with some other deputies to 
 the National Assembly, headed the column; 
 then came the drums beating the quick-step; 
 then the two cannon and the forge, to which 
 last 1 was harnessed ; then the Battalion, with 
 well sharpened swords and with guns loaded 
 and primed ready to fire off! Big Samat dis- 
 played his banner of The Rights of Man, and 
 the whole Battalion struck up: " Allons enfants 
 de la Patrie!" Oh, Holy Liberty! had we but 
 met the tyrant in his carriage with all his 
 guards we would have made but a mouthful 
 of them and him that day! 
 
 Soon we began to see the first houses of 
 the Capital and what enormous houses they 
 were ! The very lowest was higher than the 
 spire of our church, so that to look at the eaves 
 you had to put your neck out of joint. As we 
 drew closer to the city its people came out to 
 meet us headed by a skirmish line of children 
 who capered around us and shouted and danced 
 and sang. There were workmen, shopkeepers, 
 soldiers, and women of the people with woollen
 
 222 fEtye Bebs 0f ll)e ittibi. 
 
 cockades in their caps showing the national 
 colours of blue and white and red. And they 
 all were clapping their hands and shouting 
 "Vive les Marseillais! " Presently they got 
 into line along the road side so as to let us 
 pass, and waved their arms to us in sign of 
 welcome. It was easy to see that they were 
 good Patriots. But as we went farther into 
 the town, between the big stone houses with 
 their balconies and their beautiful doors, the 
 look of the crowd began to change. We met 
 carriages coming and going, with their silk- 
 stockinged valets perched up before and be- 
 hind. In them we caught glimpses of stiff 
 Aristocratical mugs, all frizzed and perfumed. 
 As soon as he saw these long Samat ran up to 
 them and, willy-nilly, made them kiss his 
 banner. In the crowd, that was crushed up 
 against the wall in order to give us passage 
 way, we saw, too, many sedan-chairs all gilded 
 like an altar and lined with silk. Two very 
 serious-looking men, in cocked-hats and em- 
 broidered coats, carried each of them one 
 man before and one behind. Sometimes a 
 beautiful powdered lady all lace and ribbons 
 would be in the chair, sometimes a marquis 
 dry as a stock-fish or as fat as an urn in a coat 
 of velvet with buttons of gold. But woe be-
 
 of tl)e ittarseilks Battalion. 223 
 
 tide if footman or lady or marquis did not wear 
 the tricolour woollen cockade. In a flash a 
 Federal would go up to them and snatch away 
 the cockade of silk ribbon and stick in its place 
 the woollen tricolour that some woman or man 
 of the people would give from off their own 
 clothes. All this was done instantly, in pass- 
 ing,. in the push and rush and stir of the 
 march. 
 
 A great crowd followed us; drawn on 
 partly by the steady roll of the drums as they 
 beat our marching-step, but more strongly by 
 the terrible chant of the " Marseillaise " which 
 all the five hundred men of the Battalion sang 
 in one tremendous voice loud enough to jar the 
 plaster off the walls. Soon the crowd caught 
 tne words of the chorus and sang with us 
 and then it no longer was five hundred, but a 
 thousand, ten thousand, twenty thousand, 
 singers singing with one voice! That awful 
 roar of "Our soil's athirst for traitor blood !" 
 brought hot tears to every Patriot's eyes and 
 sent a glowing thrill through every Patriot's 
 breast. And all those arms flourishing in the 
 air together, all those starting eyes sending 
 forth the same gleam, all those thousands of 
 open jaws uttering the same cry, were enough 
 to drive one wild! 
 
 16
 
 224 b* &*&0 of ll)e HUM. 
 
 Bending forward, stooping almost on all 
 fours, 1 dragged at my cannon and sang as if I 
 would tear my throat open. From time to time 
 I would raise myself and look back to see the 
 overwhelming, howling, terrible flood of peo- 
 ple pouring on close behind us. It seemed as 
 if the houses, the trees, the very street with its 
 paving-stones, were following us. It seemed 
 as if a great mountain were galloping after us 
 and was near upon us with its peaks and val- 
 leys and forests shaken and riven by the ava- 
 lanche, the tempest, the earthquake of God! 
 
 The torrent burst into the Place de la Bas- 
 tille, already crammed with a crowd into which 
 the Battalion slowly bored its way. On each 
 side of us and in front of us was a tremendous 
 crush as men and women were pressed to- 
 gether like grain on the threshing-floor; and as 
 they closed in behind us there was a surging 
 eddy in our wake. The ruins of the Bastille 
 were covered with people screaming, shout- 
 ing, clapping, waving their arms. The broken 
 walls, the heaps of stone and plaster, the riven 
 beams, the roofless turrets, the windows wide 
 open to the four winds of Liberty all bore 
 their loads of sightseers so close packed that 
 their heads came together like a bunch of 
 grapes.
 
 of the Marseilles Battalion. 225 
 
 I dragged away at my harness and, be- 
 wildered, glanced aside at the mountains of 
 people roaring and flourishing their greetings 
 to us; until, by a lucky turn of my eyes, I 
 caught sight of Lazuli up on a wall with Clairet 
 on her shoulder, laughing and crying with de- 
 light and shouting: " Vive les Marseillais! " 
 
 But it was not the sight of Lazuli that all in 
 a moment made my voice grow husky, my 
 blood stop running, my legs that had carried 
 me so far give way under me, and my eyelids 
 tremble with blinding tears : it was that I saw 
 beside Lazuli, holding her hand and clinging 
 to her as though for shelter, a pale young girl 
 lovely as the Virgin and knew her to be Ade- 
 line, Mademoiselle Adeline of the Chateau de 
 la Garde, the angel who had saved my life ! 
 
 Old Pascal's voice broke, and for a moment 
 he could not go on. And in that very instant 
 bang! bang! bang! came three blows on the 
 shutter, and we heard outside the voice of 
 Lange, Pascal's brother, calling: "Come, come. 
 Are you going to spend the night here ? You 
 have made me get up at two o'clock in the 
 morning to look for you. Come right away 
 home!" 
 
 Two o'clock in the morning! Who would
 
 226 |)e Ucbs of tl)e HUM. 
 
 have believed it ? We all were on our legs in 
 a moment; and the next moment we all were 
 out in the darkness and scurrying off on our 
 various ways through the blackness of the 
 night.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN THE STRANGE NEW TIMES. 
 
 IT was very clear that after my sitting up 
 till two o'clock in the morning I would be 
 a desperate sleepy-head all the next day. 
 My dear grandfather, I am sure, puzzled his 
 brains through a good part of his own short 
 night to find some way by which I could be 
 kept awake during the next evening, and so 
 not miss old Pascal's story which he himself 
 enjoyed as much as I did and would not have 
 missed for the world. And the good old man 
 did find a way that worked very well indeed. 
 
 Usually he was off at daybreak, with his 
 hoe and his wallet, to his vine-yard or saffron- 
 field. But that morning he pottered about the 
 house until after ten o'clock. And then, as if 
 he were asking a favour, he said to my mother: 
 "I'd like to take our boy out with me this 
 morning. A piece of my wall fell down in the 
 last rains and must be set up again. I want 
 
 227
 
 228 $t)e ftebs of tl)e HUM. 
 
 somebody to hand me the stones. Then I can 
 get along faster and finish it to-day." 
 
 "Well," said my mother, "he went to 
 sleep again after I called him and so has missed 
 his school, and I suppose he might as well go 
 along with you and work like a man." 
 
 And so off I went for the day with my 
 grandfather. But I did not hand him any 
 stones oh, no! Before he set hand to the 
 broken wall he hunted out a sheltered corner 
 where the sun shone warmly, and there he 
 made me a soft bed of dry leaves on which 
 he laid me; and on which I slept like a saint 
 the whole day long. 
 
 When evening came I was as bright as a 
 button, and so hungry that I ate supper enough 
 for two. But hardly had my grandfather made 
 an end to his own eating, by pushing away 
 his plate and snapping his knife together, than 
 I was up and had lighted the lantern and was 
 tugging at him to hurry him away. Off we 
 went, a pair of children together; and we had 
 no more than taken our seats in the shoemak- 
 er's shop than Pascal began. 
 
 As I was saying, up there on the ruins of 
 the Bastille, I caught sight of Lazuli with little 
 Clairet on her shoulder, and Mademoiselle
 
 Sn tlje Strange Nea imes. 229 
 
 Adeline close beside her holding fast to her arm 
 as though in dread that some one might try to 
 snatch her away. I tried to stop to make sure 
 that my eyes were not playing a trick on me. 
 But there was no stopping then. I could no 
 more stand against the forward push of the 
 crowd than if I had been a fly. The cannon 
 seemed to be alive to be galloping on of them- 
 selves. When I half halted, to turn around, the 
 wheels of the truck came on me with a bounce 
 and I had to start ahead in a hurry. And so on I 
 went with the crowd, and the Bastille quickly 
 was left behind. I felt my heart sinking. Some- 
 thing seemed to grip it and wring it until I 
 hardly could bear the pain. To give myself 
 strength and courage again I burst out with 
 the rest into "Aux armes, citoyens!" and fell 
 to dragging at my harness like a wild bull. 
 
 Presently something seemed to be going 
 wrong ahead of us, in the Rue de Saint-An- 
 toine, and we were pulled up short. And 
 then we found that the Garde Nationale of 
 Paris was there, barring our way. Santerre, 
 the famous Santerre, had met us with a poor 
 two hundred men in place of the forty thou- 
 sand that he had promised and, instead of 
 joining us, he was trying to prove to our Com- 
 mandant that it would be folly to attack the
 
 230 l)c ftebs of t\]t ittiM. 
 
 King's Castle; that the time had not yet 
 come. 
 
 He was full of all sorts of excuses, this 
 Santerre, for putting off -the attack. Nothing 
 was ready for it; the cannon we were to carry 
 off from in front of the Hotel de Ville were too 
 strongly guarded to be taken; Mayor Petion 
 had said that we must wait until the Assembly 
 could come to a vote. Mayor Petion didn't 
 think that this was the right time to force the 
 King and so on, with this, that and the other, 
 until it was enough to drive one wild. 
 
 But in the end these peace-lovers carried 
 the day against us, and it was settled that we 
 should go along the Boulevard quietly to our 
 barracks: and behold, then, Monsieur Santerre 
 with his two hundred Parisians at the head of 
 the procession while we Marseillais marched 
 along behind him meek as lambs! As for the 
 crowd the howling, roaring crowd that had 
 followed us with fists and teeth ready for fight- 
 ing when those in it saw that there wasn't to 
 be any attack on the Castle they dropped away 
 from us by tens and twenties : and so left us 
 to go through the Aristocratic quarter alone. 
 Then we knew that Santerre had tricked us. 
 
 As we marched on we met only gilded car- 
 riages and silk-curtained sedan-chairs in which
 
 tl)e Strange Nero <Eime0. 231 
 
 were fine court ladies in laces and furbelows, 
 and powdered and pomatumed dandies in vel- 
 vet coats and breeches, with silver-buckled 
 shoes and with knots of ribbon at wrist and 
 knee and wherever a knot of ribbon could be 
 stuck on. These, we could see, were laugh- 
 ing and sneering at us; but Samat and Margan, 
 who were not the sort to be laughed at by any 
 such riff-raff of Aristocrats, stopped the coaches 
 in a hurry and made the frightened porters put 
 down the sedan-chairs and then all those 
 musk-scented dandies and mincing dames had 
 to beg our pardon by kissing The Rights of 
 Man! The poor things fairly shook in their 
 shoes as they saw our glittering teeth, white 
 as the fangs of the wolves on the Luberon, 
 and our flashing eyes under dust-white brows. 
 We made short work of them pulling off their 
 hats and their silk cockades and ordering them 
 in our strong Proven9al tongue, deep and mel- 
 low as the roll of drums, to cry with us Vive 
 la Nation ! It was good to see their shaking 
 and trembling and their pinched disdainful faces 
 as they joined in that Patriot shout. 
 
 The people in this quarter of the town, far 
 from welcoming us from doors and windows 
 and balconies, hurried away from us into the 
 depths of their houses and all the welcome we
 
 232 
 
 got was the banging-to of shutters and the 
 grating of bolts and bars. But welcome or no 
 welcome, our drums rattled on and the chant 
 of the " Marseillaise " rang out on the air. 
 
 At last, glowing with excitement, hoarse 
 with shouting, and dripping with sweat, we 
 came to our barracks; that stood in a puzzle 
 of streets in the very middle of Paris. We 
 found ourselves far off from the National As- 
 sembly, far off from the King's Castle, far off 
 from everywhere. It was all the doings of that 
 Santerre! Don't talk to me about people who 
 keep their feelings inside of them and who 
 neither laugh nor cry ! 
 
 Santerre started to make us a speech ; but 
 he jabbered away in French, and we could not 
 understand more than five words in ten. I 
 think he was trying to tell us why we hadn't 
 gone straight to the Castle; and then he tried 
 to smooth us down by saying that we were to 
 have a feast offered to us that evening at the 
 Champs Elysees. 
 
 But here Margan caught him up short. 
 "Mister Parisian," said our big pockmarked 
 Sergeant, "you must excuse me if I cut into 
 your speech. I should like, if possible, to get 
 into your head that we didn't come all the way 
 to Paris in order to string beads, nor did we
 
 In tl)e Strange New (Eimeo. 233 
 
 swallow two hundred leagues of blazing dust 
 in order to end off with a spree. Down in 
 Marseilles each one of us has his own little 
 cabanon, his own quiet nook by the sea-side 
 or on the hills, to which he can go for his sum- 
 mer pleasure taking along his garlic and oil to 
 make aioli, and the fish and saffron for his pot 
 of bouillabaisse. We can do our junketting at 
 home. I tell you squarely that all we came 
 here for was to upset the King and save the 
 country. We came for nothing else; and if 
 you think you can take the taste of that out 
 of our mouths by stuffing us with pastry, 
 why 
 
 But here Barbaroux broke in with : " Hush, 
 hush, friend Margan ! You are quite right but 
 listen to what Patriot Danton has to say, and 
 'you will see that we all are of one mind." 
 
 In a moment Danton had mounted on a 
 table and had started off with a speech that 
 went like a bugle-call! He could talk for half 
 an hour at a stretch and always say just the 
 right thing. It was a great pity that he had to 
 speak in French; but even in French we could 
 understand that he was speaking well. There 
 was a man for you! He was not like Santerre! 
 When he finished, while we were cheering 
 him, Barbaroux flung himself into his arms
 
 234 &l)c Hecs of tlje ittibi. 
 
 and they hugged and kissed before us all; and 
 then they both promised us that within three 
 days they would take us to the King's Castle. 
 
 While all this was going on, we had served 
 out to us rations of wine and bread and ham, 
 and we were mighty glad to get them. By 
 that time it was two o'clock in the afternoon, 
 and as we had not tasted a mouthful since be- 
 fore sunrise we were as hungry as wolves. 
 
 But what Vauclair and I most wanted was 
 to hunt up Lazuli, and we made short work of 
 our rations and hurried off. Our guns we left 
 at the barracks, along with our bundles; but 
 into our red taiolo, drawn tight about our 
 waists, we stuck our pistols, and we carried 
 also our swords. And then off we started for 
 the house of Planchot the joiner in the blind 
 alley close by the Bastille. 
 
 The streets were still all topsy-turvy after 
 our passage. But doors and windows were 
 open again, and groups of people were stand- 
 ing on the thresholds and at the crossways 
 whispering among themselves. As we passed 
 them they stopped their talk to turn around 
 and stare hard at us; but we took no notice of 
 them beyond sticking our hands into our red 
 sashes and holding fast our pistols all ready, 
 should there be need for it, to draw and fire.
 
 In tl)e Strange Nero QLimes. 235 
 
 All this while I had not said anything to 
 Vauclair about my having seen Mademoiselle 
 Adeline with Lazuli. That sight had utterly 
 bewildered me. I wondered if I really had 
 seen her ? If, after all, she had not been a sort 
 of vision that had come to me begotten of 
 my hunger and weariness and my excitement 
 in the midst of the tremendous rushing and 
 roaring of the crowd ? 
 
 On we went, turning corner after corner and 
 crossing little and big open spaces, and com- 
 ing at last to the Impasse Guemenee without 
 having had any adventures at all. As we stood 
 outside the door we could hear the smooth 
 "hush, hush" of a big plane as it threw off 
 the long shavings; but the planing stopped 
 short at our loud knock, and then the door flew 
 open and there was Planchot himself. It was 
 plain that he knew Vauclair on the instant; but 
 instead of shaking hands and welcoming him 
 he turned his back on us and rushed off like a 
 crazy man shouting: "Vauclair! Vauclair! 
 The good companion Vauclair! " 
 
 A moment later we heard Lazuli, upstairs, 
 screaming: "It is he! Clairet! Clairet! Come 
 quick!" and Clairet's little voice crying: 
 "Papa, Papa!" 
 
 We met them on the staircase, and how
 
 236 !)e Rcbs of tl)e iflibi. 
 
 we all hugged and kissed! How sweet Lazu- 
 li's hearty kisses were, and how entrancing the 
 feel around -my neck of her dear arms! The 
 blood rushed through my veins and my heart 
 beat hard. I was no longer a child, but I was 
 not yet enough of a man to understand why a 
 kiss should so upset me. 
 
 After a moment Lazuli exclaimed: "You 
 haven't seen us all yet. The family has grown. 
 Poor little Mademoiselle Adeline is with us 
 you remember her, Pascalet ? She saved you 
 from wicked Surto's claws. And now I believe 
 I have saved her from death. She is very sad, 
 poor child, but she has a good spirit of her 
 own. I must tell you all about it. I was so 
 sorry for her on the trip from Avignon to Paris. 
 It was she La Jacarasse was so rough to in the 
 coach." As she spoke, Lazuli opened the 
 door, adding: "1 know, Vauclair, you will 
 say as I do when there is enough for three, 
 there is enough for four." 
 
 It was lucky we had not far to go just then, 
 for this news upset me more than all our long 
 march in sun and rain and dust and wind. I, 
 who had dragged at my cannon like a beast of 
 burden and had thought nothing of it, felt my 
 strong legs give way on hearing the name of 
 this young girl. There she stood, white as
 
 Sn ll)e Strange Nero 9Timcs. 237 
 
 wax, her beautiful large soft eyes dim and 
 sunken; and in an instant I had flung myself 
 at her feet and was kissing her hand. She 
 brought the past back to me. My village, our 
 hut of La Garde, my mother, my father! It 
 seemed as if in her flowing robe, in her soft 
 laces, she bore the scent of the wild clematis and 
 of the broom-flowers that bloomed far away in 
 our lanes. The hand I was kissing was the same 
 that had given me the bit of white bread ; the 
 same that drew the bolts of the dungeon door 
 at Avignon ! And was it possible ? she too 
 was deeply moved. She took me in her 
 arms and kissed me as Lazuli had done! Oh 
 how utterly delicious it was! Suddenly I 
 felt her delicate slender body yield and sway; 
 and as I held her fast I saw that she had 
 fainted. 
 
 Lazuli caught her from me; and, as if she 
 had been a little child, gathered her up in her 
 arms, saying: " Don't be worried, it is nothing 
 but a faintingfit; and no wonder, poor child! 
 That journey was such an awful thing for her. 
 She suffered and wept the whole length of it." 
 Still holding in her arms the sweet girl, who 
 as she lay there, limp and helpless, looked like 
 an armful of flowers, Lazuli disappeared into a 
 little dark room leaving us all upset and flus-
 
 238 l]e ttebs of tlje JttiM. 
 
 tered out in the kitchen to stand staring at each 
 other. 
 
 Just then we heard the clatter of old Plan- 
 chot's wooden shoes on the stair. He had 
 come to greet Vauclair according to the rite 
 and ceremonial of their craft. To make this 
 greeting what it should be he had put on his 
 Sunday hat and his best wig; and before he 
 said a word he laid a square and a compass 
 down between himself and Vauclair on the 
 floor. At once Vauclair made the proper mo- 
 tions of hand and foot, to which Planchot re- 
 plied properly; and then, under their raised 
 hands, they embraced over the quilibret; that 
 is, the compass and square. 
 
 "And how goes it with you, my Avignon- 
 nais?" Planchot said. "And how goes it 
 with you, La Liberte?'' Vauclair answered. 
 And then they went on with greeting after 
 greeting, and never would have stopped at all 
 had not Lazuli, her finger on her lip, come 
 back to us. 
 
 " It will be nothing serious," she said; and 
 as she turned to Planchot she added: "Our 
 little girl has had a fainting fit. The crowd, 
 the heat, the excitement of seeing her father, 
 was too much for her. But she is better now. 
 She soon will be all right."
 
 3n ll)e Strange Netu imee. 239 
 
 " What a pity," said Planchot. " She is a 
 delicate child. She is as pale as pine shavings." 
 And then, tapping Clairet's cheeks, he went 
 on: "Here's a fine little man! You are not 
 like your sister; you don't get frightened when 
 you see our Patriots, our Reds from the beauti- 
 ful South, march by!" He turned to Lazuli, 
 who was making signs to us to be quiet, and 
 asked: "Wouldn't you like a little orange- 
 flower water for the child ? Speak right out if 
 you would. We are all good Reds together, 
 and everything in the house is yours. I 
 wouldn't talk that way if you were Aristos 
 those wretches who are only waiting for the 
 Austrians and Germans to come to help them 
 ruin the country and kill the Revolution. 
 There is nothing for Aristos here except pow- 
 der and ball and the sharp edge of my axe! 
 But I'll leave you now. You need rest, and 
 I've got more than enough work to do." 
 
 Planchot stopped his chattering and turned 
 to leave the room but took Vauclair with him 
 to the threshold and whispered: "I have an 
 order for seven guillotines. I must have them 
 ready for the Jacobins within the fortnight." 
 Then he left us, and we heard his sabots go 
 clacking down the. stairs. 
 
 Lazuli pushed-to and fastened the door and 
 17
 
 240 fttye ftebs of llje JttiM. 
 
 brought out a bottle of muscatel and some bis- 
 cuits; and then, seating herself at the the table 
 as close as she could get to us, she began to 
 tell in a low voice how she had saved Adeline 
 and had passed her off to Planchot as her own 
 child. 
 
 " You remember," she said, " how at Sau- 
 lieu I told you about the poor young girl who 
 was travelling with La Jacarasse ? Well, just 
 after you were called away by the drums, they 
 came to take their places in the coach. La 
 Jacarasse was very drunk. She staggered 
 every which way, and in getting into the 
 coach she stumbled and fell sprawling drop- 
 ping her big bag, out of which fell her pig- 
 killing knife. But she managed to climb in 
 and take her seat; and after her came the poor 
 young lady, blushing and ashamed and scarcely 
 daring to call her soul her own. She was cry- 
 ing, but trying to hold in her sobs like a child 
 who is afraid of a whipping. In the coach we 
 all looked at each other, shaking our heads; 
 for, though no one spoke out about it, the 
 sight went to our very hearts. And then I 
 made up my mind that I was going to find out 
 who that poor child was, and that I would 
 do my best to rescue her. So I sat down 
 beside her, in front of La Jacarasse who fell
 
 Jfn tlje Strange Nero imes. 241 
 
 asleep and snored away to the jolting of the 
 coach. 
 
 'Then in the dark I whispered in the girl's 
 ear: 'My dear, what is the matter? You are 
 crying. Tell me what hurts you, perhaps 1 can 
 help you.' 
 
 " 'Thank you so much,' she answered in 
 a trembling whisper. 'How kind you are! 
 But there is nothing to be done for me. That 
 woman will see the end of me. There is 
 some plot against me that I can not under- 
 stand. How could my mother have given me 
 into such a creature's hands ? It would have 
 been better had she sent me to Paris alone.' 
 
 " ' Who are you, dear child ? Who is your 
 mother ? ' 
 
 " 'I am the daughter of the Marquis d'Am- 
 brun. My name is Adeline. My father and 
 my mother, with my brother Robert, started 
 for Paris some time ago. They were in a great 
 hurry to be off to help the King of France, who 
 is in some sort of danger. I had had a dread- 
 ful fright and was too weak to go with them, 
 and so they left me behind for this horrible 
 woman to bring me to Paris in the first coach 
 from Avignon. Oh, Great Saints! Oh, Holy 
 Maries of the Sea! Shall I ever reach home 
 alive! And even should I reach home '
 
 242 aije Hebe of tl)e ittibi. 
 
 "'Should you reach home? Why, then 
 you will be safe, of course. Your mother 
 must love you so; must be so good to you.' 
 
 " ' It is not of my mother that I am most 
 afraid, but of a wicked man, a German, who 
 is our game-keeper. He and La Jacarasse have 
 agreed between them to get rid of me, I am 
 sure. They all are blind to that German's 
 wickedness; and the blindest is my mother. 
 It is not long since she who used to be so 
 kind to me threatened me with a blow be- 
 cause I blamed him. I fear him even more 
 than I do La Jacarasse. I am certain that the 
 two have sworn my death. What can I do ? 
 I pray God to take me soon to himself! ' As 
 she said this she began to sob and cry so piti- 
 fully that I got to crying with her. It almost 
 broke my heart. 
 
 " Of course I knew the whole story as soon 
 as she told me her name; and I made up my 
 mind that I would risk anything to get this 
 dear little girl, who had saved our Pascalet's 
 life, safe away from that wicked Surto and out 
 of the claws of La Jacarasse. Over on the seat 
 in front of us the good-for-nothing beast of 
 a Jacarasse still was snoring; and so, draw- 
 ing closer to the dear child, I whispered : ' I am 
 nothing but a poor woman of the people, with
 
 Jfn tlje Strange New imes. 243 
 
 all my riches in my twenty nails. Yet I took 
 little Pascalet into my home the Pascalet from 
 La Garde whom you saved alive out of the 
 vault and I will take you into my home too.' 
 
 "When I said this, the poor girl flung her- 
 self on my neck and as she kissed me again 
 and again she sobbed out: 'Oh, save me! 
 Save me! I will follow you any where to get 
 away from that awful woman and her great 
 knife that she threatens my life with when 
 she is drunk.' 
 
 " 'Be careful, she is stirring. Now get it 
 clear in your mind, my dear, that when we 
 come to Paris and 1 get out of the coach you 
 are to follow right behind, as if you were my 
 daughter.' 
 
 " ' I will do just what you tell me. I trust 
 you because you were good to little Pascalet.' 
 
 "'Hush! We must not talk any more 
 now. Day is almost here and La Jacarasse is 
 waking. Remember what I have told you. 
 When we leave the coach do you follow me, 
 that is all.' 
 
 "Just then La Jacarasse gave a tremendous 
 yawn, and then began to stare around her with 
 her half open piggish eyes as though she didn't 
 know where she was. 
 
 "Mademoiselle Adeline no longer sobbed.
 
 244 l)e Hebs of tl)c Xflibi. 
 
 Every now and then she glanced at me as 
 much as to say : ' I know you will save me 
 from that woman! ' and 1, under our shawls, 
 would give her hand a little squeeze. 
 
 "The coach with its three horses abreast 
 and a fourth ahead went at a good rate, stop- 
 ping before the inns of the towns and villages 
 we went through only long enough to leave 
 the letters and to let La Jacarasse swallow a 
 glass of wine or brandy. The nearer we drew 
 to Paris the drunker she became, until at last 
 she could hardly see the coach door when she 
 got in. 
 
 " 'So much the better for us,' I whispered 
 to the dear little girl. ' Let her drink like a 
 sieve. The drunker she is the easier it will be 
 to give her the slip.' 
 
 " At one of our stops I got a chance to tell 
 the coachman what I meant to do, and he was 
 as kind, as he could be about it you saw at 
 Saulieu what a nice a sort of man he was. ' I 
 like to see a good woman like you,' he said. 
 ' Of course I'll help you all I can. Now listen. 
 We stop in Paris before the inn of the Soleil 
 d'Or. I will get La Jacarasse out of the coach 
 first by taking her off to have a drink with me 
 and then do you and the young girl get away 
 as fast as you can. Don't bother about your
 
 Jn tlje Strange Nero itne0. 245 
 
 baggage. I'll look after it, and you can get it 
 whenever you please.' 
 
 "Two days after the coachman and I had 
 this talk we got to Paris. It was about night- 
 fall when we came in, and almost dark when 
 we stopped in front of the Soleil d'Or. The 
 coachman gave me a wink as he opened the 
 door and called out: 'Who is going to stand 
 treat to a glass of brandy ? ' 
 
 " ' I am! I am! ' cried La Jacarasse, in her 
 rough voice and went stumbling across our 
 feet and legs, dragging her nasty smelly bag 
 after her, and lurched out through the coach 
 door. The coachman kept her from falling by 
 catching her under the arms and dumping her 
 down on the pavement, and off they went for 
 their drink. 
 
 "That was our chance. I made a sign to 
 the darling as I caught up Clairet in my arms, 
 and to the wonder of everybody we got out 
 and hurried off leaving all our things behind 
 us and in ten steps we were lost and hidden 
 in the crowd of people coming and going on 
 all sides. 
 
 "Of course we didn't know the way; but 
 I had a tongue in my head and asked a man 
 selling red, white and blue cockades how to 
 find the Impasse Guemenee. ' It's only two
 
 246 fl)e ftcbs of tl)e ittiM. 
 
 steps off,' said he. 'Turn the corner of the 
 Place du Faubourg de Gloire into the Rue Saint- 
 Antoine and follow your nose for no more than 
 half a minute and there you are. Vive la 
 Nation ! Won't you buy a cockade ? ' 
 
 "Cockades indeed! That was no time for 
 buying cockades! We started off as fast as 
 we could go giving a look back now and 
 then to see if La Jacarasse was after us, though 
 we did not feel much afraid of her; and in a 
 very few minutes we found ourselves all hot 
 and panting in the Impasse Guemenee and in 
 front of Planchot's door. It was Planchot him- 
 self who opened the door to us; and when I 
 told him who I was and showed him Adeline 
 and Clairet and said, ' Here are Vauclair's chil- 
 dren,' he and his good wife Janetoun hugged 
 and kissed us as if we were their very own. 
 Nobody could have been kinder than they 
 were. They got beds ready for us, they 
 lighted the fire to get our supper, and in every 
 way they treated us as if they had known us 
 all their lives. We talked away to them of 
 our South Country, and they asked a thousand 
 questions about you and about the Marseilles 
 Battalion; and so in a moment we were 
 friends. But if I had told who Mademoiselle 
 Adeline really was I am sure there would have
 
 Jfn ttje Strange Nero 9Time0. 247 
 
 been trouble; and I am sure that unless we 
 keep our secret, and go on calling her our 
 daughter, there will be trouble still." 
 
 " You have done exactly right," said Vau- 
 clair. "I know Planchot all the way through, 
 and better dough never went to the making of 
 a man. He is kindness itself. He carries his 
 heart in his hand. But if he knew that Made- 
 moiselle Adeline was the daughter of a mar- 
 quis, of a noble, who had come to fight for the 
 King, he would be quite capable of turning her 
 neck and crop out of doors. Not a word must 
 be said about it be sure, Pascalet, that you 
 keep your tongue inside your teeth. If that 
 girl went back to her family she would simply 
 be going into the jaws of the wolf. It is clear 
 that Surto and La Jacarasse and the Marquise 
 understand each other like three pickpockets 
 at a fair. Mark my words, the three of them 
 have sworn the death of the Marquis d'Ambrun 
 and of Count Robert and of Mademoiselle Ade- 
 line. As to the Marquis and his son Robert, I 
 don't care a button what happens to them. 
 Let them be hanged or have their throats cut 
 it is no more than they deserve. But we'll save 
 Adeline, or I'll know the reason why! " 
 
 "No, no, I won't have it! I won't have 
 it!" cried Adeline, as she suddenly joined us.
 
 248 (Tljc ttcbs of ttje 
 
 " Do you think I will let my father and my 
 brother die without going to their rescue ? I 
 heard what you said about them, and I know 
 that Surto and La Jacarasse surely will try to 
 strangle or stab them. I must go home to 
 protect my people! Take me home our 
 house is near here in the Rue des Douze 
 Fortes." And then, turning from Vauclair, 
 Adeline flung her arms so tightly around me 
 that I scarcely could breathe and said implor- 
 ingly: "Thou, Pascalet, thou canst not refuse 
 me. Promise to take me home. Death is 
 nothing to me if I can save my father and my 
 brother! " 
 
 " Hush, hush, my dear little girl," said Vau- 
 clair. " Remember, no one here must know 
 who you are. We'll save your father and 
 we'll save your brother, too; but you must 
 be silent or we shall all be lost. Hark! I hear 
 some one coming up the stairs! " 
 
 As for me, the touch of Adeline's arms had 
 so upset me that I scarcely knew what I was 
 about. I cried in company with her, and kept 
 saying: "Oh yes, yes, we'll save them, and 
 I'll take you home! " 
 
 How strange that was! Who would ever 
 have thought, when I left my village, that a day 
 would come when 1 would consent to save
 
 3n Itye Strange Nero &imes. 249 
 
 from death the Marquis d'Ambrun and, still 
 more wonderful, his son Robert! Count Rob- 
 ert who had nearly killed my father, beating him 
 like a dog and leaving him for dead ; Count 
 Robert who had shut me up to die of hunger 
 in the vault! 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and when 
 Lazuli opened it there was Janetoun, Planchot's 
 wife, come up to greet us. Then came no 
 end of hand shakings and how-de-does and 
 how d'ye do again, and compliments too! 
 " Oh, what fine handsome fellows! " cried Jane- 
 toun. "That's the kind of men we have in 
 the South they are not afraid of a long march ! 
 They are not like these dried up Parisians who 
 are neither fish, flesh nor fowl and can out-talk 
 the wind. Like the dogs, they find a safe 
 place and then bark from it. You won't do 
 like that! When you get hold of Capet, as 
 they did last month, you'll squeeze his neck 
 for him and serve him right too ! 
 
 "And now I've a bit of news for you. It 
 is arranged, you know, that you and your 
 comrades of the Battalion are to be given a 
 banquet to-night in the Champs Elysees. 
 Well, the Aristocrats will be there and they 
 will try to start a fight with you. They are 
 arming for it now. But don't you fight with
 
 250 l)e ftebs of tlje Xttibi. 
 
 them. Tell your friends in the Battalion what 
 is coming, and tell them to let the Aristocrats 
 alone. Now I've warned you and forewarned 
 is forearmed ! " 
 
 "Janetoun is right in telling us," said Vau- 
 clair, " and we must be off. If things are as 
 she says they are, we must be with the Bat- 
 talion. Right about face, Pascalet! March! 
 And as to any Aristocrats stopping us, I'd like 
 to see them do it while two good watch dogs 
 are by me, and I have this sharp walking-stick 
 at my side! " and he touched as he spoke his 
 pistols and his sword. "But tell me, Jane- 
 toun," he added, " will that Santerre be there ? 
 Do you know him ? " 
 
 "You must not think I want to get rid of 
 you," said Janetoun, lowering her voice; "but 
 really I do think that to-night you ought all to 
 be together. As for Santerre well, you had 
 better talk to Planchot about him ; he knows 
 him, and knows how much he can be trusted." 
 And then, with her finger on her mouth, she 
 whispered: " I can tell you this, though only 
 last evening he was seen stealing out of the 
 King's Castle just at the edge of dark! " 
 
 Janetoun stopped for a moment, and then 
 speaking in her natural voice, she went on: 
 " But don't let what I've told you worry you.
 
 3n tlje Strange Nero (Eimes. 251 
 
 As I said, forewarned is forearmed. We know 
 here all that is going on. Planchot goes every 
 evening to the Jacobin Club ; and they are wide 
 awake, those Jacobins! It is they who have 
 ordered the seven guillotines ! You understand ? 
 Well a word to the wise, you know." She 
 suddenly turned, and as she ran down the 
 stairs in a jiffy, she called back to us: "I must 
 melt the glue. The guillotines must be ready 
 in a fortnight. There isn't much time to 
 spare!" 
 
 " What is a guillotine, Vauclair, anyway ? " 
 1 asked. 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know," Vauclair an- 
 swered. "The Jacobins have ordered them 
 like enough they are seats or tables, for the 
 club house." 
 
 "They're a puzzle to me," said Lazuli. " j 
 can't make out what they are; but they cer- 
 tainly are neither chairs nor tables. Come and 
 see we have one here in the little room. 
 Planchot lent it to us to use as a bed for Ade- 
 line." 
 
 We were as full of curiosity as so many 
 children and we all went in together laughing 
 to see the queer piece of furniture. What we 
 saw, lying flat on the floor, was a sort of case 
 or box, somewhere about three feet long and
 
 252 (Jl)e Eebs of ll)C 4JUM. 
 
 half as wide, from which started arms at least 
 six feet long into each of which was cut a deep 
 groove running its whole length. At the top 
 the arms were held together by a solid cross- 
 piece, in the middle of which was a little 
 pulley. 
 
 " I think," said Lazuli, "that it is meant to 
 stand up, with the two arms in the air. When 
 we came here, Father Planchot had only one 
 bed for the three of us; so he said that he 
 would fetch one of his guillotines up stairs, and 
 that we could make it into a bed for Adeline. 
 You see, by laying it down this way and filling 
 it well with shavings, it makes a very fair bed 
 indeed. There is room enough for a child, or 
 indeed for a grown person, in here between 
 the arms." 
 
 While Lazuli was talking we were looking 
 at the queer affair. Vauclair raised it and 
 turned it over and looked at it carefully. But 
 he ended by making a little puzzled sound, as 
 much as to say: "Deuce take me if I can 
 guess what the thing is for at all! " 
 
 And then I ventured to say that perhaps it 
 was to be used in making triumphal arches or 
 something of that sort, for some grand festival 
 such as the Fete-Dieu in Avignon. 
 
 "You've hit it, I do believe," said Vau-
 
 3n tlje Strange Nero &imes. 253 
 
 clair. "No doubt they are for some great 
 festival of rejoicing. What geese we were 
 not to see it right off." And then we went 
 back into the kitchen and began to get ready 
 to leave. 
 
 While we were tightening our red sashes 
 Adeline once more threw her arms round my 
 neck crying: "My Pascalet, you will surely 
 come back to me, and surely will take me to 
 my father's house ?" 
 
 Vauclair saw how upset I was and answered 
 for me. "Yes, dear little girl," he said, "just 
 as soon as we have taken the King's Castle we 
 will take you to your people, that I promise 
 you. Then the Marseilles men will be the 
 masters and will make laws for Paris. Surto 
 and the wicked Jacarasse, when we find them, 
 shall be shut up tight in prison so that no one 
 will ever see them again. You must be a very 
 good girl and let us leave you quietly now, 
 and we will come back to-morrow. If you 
 don't keep very quiet La Jacarasse will find 
 where you are hidden and will carry you off; 
 and she, certainly, will not take you home." 
 
 As he spoke, Vauclair gently loosened her 
 tightly clasped arms from about my neck ; and 
 I, encouraged by Vauclair's words, added: 
 " Yes, yes, we'll take you home; and we will
 
 254 be Rebs of tfye Alibi. 
 
 protect you, too, from that horrible Jac- 
 arasse." 
 
 As she tried to thank me I closed her 
 mouth with a kiss; and then Vauclair caught 
 me by the hand and led me out of the room. 
 As we went down stairs I heard Lazuli laugh- 
 ing and saying: "Come, come, you will be a 
 most unreasonable girl if you keep on crying 
 after a kiss like that." 
 
 Oh, that kiss ! How I felt it thrilling through 
 me! Though we were out in the big street I 
 neither saw people nor carriages coming and 
 going. My cheeks felt as red as fire, my ears 
 sang, my legs could hardly support me. Oh, 
 how 1 longed to go back to the house to kiss 
 Adeline once more and tell her all that I wanted 
 to tell! But little by little my senses came 
 back to me and my cheeks cooled down. After 
 all, I wasn't much more than a boy, and I was 
 full of a boy's curiosity. I stared at the peo- 
 ple, the carriages, the sedan-chairs; I gaped at 
 the painted and gilded signs, which were made 
 in all sorts of fantastic shapes and swayed in 
 the wind over the shop-keepers' doors. By the 
 time that we reached the Place de la Bastille 
 or, as they called it then the Faubourg de la 
 Gloire I was quite myself again. In the 
 morning we had seen the ruins of the strong-
 
 Jn tbe Strange Neto &imes. 255 
 
 hold crowded with people; but without the 
 people it took even more of a hold on me. It 
 seemed as if it had been tumbled down by an 
 earthquake. When we had walked all round 
 it, looking at it from every side, we went into 
 the Soleil d'Or where the Avignon coach had 
 stopped, and where the coachman had given 
 Adeline and Lazuli their chance to run away 
 from La Jacarasse. 
 
 In this inn I saw a queer thing that bothered 
 me a great deal. There hung from the ceiling 
 two big figures stuffed with straw, just like 
 the "Carmentrans" we parade around on 
 Shrove Tuesday. They were dressed up in 
 paper one as a general of the army, the other 
 as a crowned lady. 
 
 "Don't you know what those are?" Vau- 
 clair asked. ' ' Well, I'll tell you. The general is 
 Lafayette, and the fine lady is the Queen. Every 
 evening the Patriots of the quarter, who hold 
 their meetings here, carry those two figures 
 up to the highest window in the house. And 
 then kerflop! and down they go on the pave- 
 ment to the shouts of the people, who join 
 hands and dance around them to the tune of 
 'a ira.' All of which means that some day 
 in the King's Castle we will do the same 
 
 thing! " 
 
 is
 
 256 QEI)e ftefcs of tlje fttibi. 
 
 When we came out of the Soleil d'Or, we 
 turned down and went along the banks of the 
 Seine, a river that flows through Paris. It is 
 not near as wide as the Rhone, and is very 
 dirty. The water is so foul that it looks like 
 the last skimming of olive-oil or the drainings 
 of a stable-yard; and, compared with our 
 Rhone, it flows along so slowly that it is hard 
 to tell which way it goes. 
 
 The sun was almost down as we passed in 
 front of the Hotel de Ville; and had set by the 
 time we reached the Champs Elysees where 
 we found all the men of the Battalion with the 
 Paris folks who were giving us our feast. The 
 table was spread in a cabaret called the Grand 
 Salon; and it truly was a grand salon, I can 
 tell you, for there was room in it for five hun- 
 dred men. 
 
 The gardens of the Champs Elysees were 
 crowded with people, some shouting "Vive la 
 Nation!" others, the Anti- Patriots: "Vive le 
 Roi!" and "Vive la Reine!" Next door to 
 the Grand Salon was a cabaret in which an- 
 other festival was going on; and this other 
 festival had been started by some of the sprigs 
 of the nobility who, as well as their serving- 
 men, were dressed up as National Guards. 
 Nice National Guardsmen they were! They
 
 Jn tlje Strange Nero itnes. 257 
 
 were the King's dogs; and they had come on 
 purpose to make a disturbance and so to pick 
 a quarrel with us. Well, they got what they 
 came for and also something they didn't come 
 for, as you will see ! 
 
 We were no more than seated at our table, 
 with Santerre to preside over us, than this 
 Royalist rabble, right under our windows, be- 
 gan to sing songs in honour of the tyrant and 
 of his Austrian Queen. We let them go on, 
 but soon the good Patriots of those parts took 
 the matter up and began calling out: "Down 
 with the foreigners!" "Down with Cob- 
 lentz!" "Down with the Austrian!" and 
 at this the cowards drew their swords and 
 shamefully fell upon the women and children. 
 That was the kind of fighting that suited them, 
 but it did not suit us ! " Help, Patriots, help ! " 
 the women shrieked. And then : " Help, Mar- 
 seillais! " 
 
 We would have had snails' blood in our 
 veins had not our hearts sprung up in answer 
 to that cry. In spite of Santerre who tried 
 to quiet us by calling out: "It is nothing, 
 nothing at all. Stay in your places " we all 
 were on our feet in a moment. Some of us 
 ran out at the door, some jumped out of the 
 windows; all of us with drawn swords and
 
 258 ftlje &ebs of tl)e IttiM. 
 
 pistols, and all as eager as wolves! But when 
 the Aristos caught sight of us, instead of stay- 
 ing to fight, off they ran like rabbits some of 
 the hindmost being spurred on by the toes 
 of our boots as well as by the points of our 
 swords. They all made for the drawbridge 
 of the King's Castle, while we burst out laugh- 
 ing at seeing them run away before they were 
 hurt. 
 
 One big fat fellow fell head foremost into a 
 mud-puddle. I was sorry for him and helped 
 him up; and when he was on his feet 1 found 
 that he was so tall that my head was not much 
 above the level of his fat stomach. All the 
 same, I put the point of my sword to his big 
 paunch and cried: "Shout 'Vive la Nation!' 
 or in it goes! " 
 
 All covered with mud as he was, he made 
 an awful face at me and answered: "I am 
 Count Moreau de Saint-Merri ! " 
 
 "The deuce 1 care who you are," I an- 
 swered. "Shout 'Vive la Nation' or the 
 point of my sword will make a new button- 
 hole in your breeches! " 
 
 ' ' Vive la Nation ! Vive la Nation ! " shouted 
 he and then 1 let him run off to the Castle. 
 
 As we were on our way back to the table 
 in the Grand Salon we saw marching up from
 
 Jn tl)e Strange Nero imes. 259 
 
 the other end of the Champs Elysees a com- 
 pany of Anti-Patriot National Guards, who 
 were coming to support the lot we had just 
 driven off. One of these, an officer with silver 
 epaulettes, aimed at a Federal and fired; but 
 his pistol flashed in the pan. Instantly the 
 Federal turned around and blew out his brains. 
 The Aristocrats, seeing their officer killed, 
 broke in disorder and fled. This time we did 
 not pretend to stab; we stabbed in earnest. 
 The slowest and the timidest cried for quarter, 
 and at the end we found ourselves with about 
 a dozen prisoners in hand. Santerre joined us, 
 and for once was earnest enough. He begged 
 and implored us to let our prisoners go. He 
 said he would answer for them himself; that 
 they really were on our side; that they were 
 our brothers, but had been tricked into acting 
 against us. He talked and talked so in his 
 French jargon that he finished by making us 
 do what he wanted. 
 
 Our feast was all spoiled. But we carried 
 off the food to our barracks in the Rue Mira- 
 beau le Patriote, and there we spent what was 
 left of our evening quietly eating, drinking and 
 singing as if we had been at home down in 
 the South. Barbaroux and Danton joined us 
 there, and comforted us by promising that in
 
 260 &!) Hcbs of tl)e 
 
 not less than three days we certainly should at- 
 tack the Castle. 
 
 "If the Assembly and the National Guard 
 won't act," they said to us, "we will take 
 matters into our own hands. We will put 
 down the tyrant and save the country all by 
 ourselves." Santerre, who had come with 
 them, could not say no to this; and he prom- 
 ised that in three days his men would march 
 with us to the attack. 
 
 Then we stretched ourselves out on the stone 
 floor and slept there for the rest of the night 
 like logs ; and the next day we were up at cock 
 crow and off to see the town. 
 
 Nobody stayed in the barracks but the men 
 on guard. Some of us went to take a good 
 look at the King's Castle, and at the bridges 
 and streets and alleys leading to it. Others 
 went to the National Assembly to hear what 
 they were chattering about in that place ; others 
 were satisfied to stare openmouthed at the 
 dancing bears and into the shop windows, 
 until you might have thought they had just 
 landed from Martigues! Vauclair and I, of 
 course, made straight for the Impasse Gue- 
 menee to see our dear people. 
 
 As we entered the workshop, Planchot 
 drew Vauclair aside, and with a very mysteri-
 
 Jin Ibe Strange Nero <Eime0. 261 
 
 ous air whispered in his ear: "The Jacobins 
 have just ordered another seven guillotines. 
 That makes fourteen. I am counting on your 
 help. Fourteen guillotines to be ready in a 
 fortnight ! I never can get through a piece of 
 work like that alone." 
 
 "Surely, surely, brother Planchot," Vau- 
 clair answered. "Of course I'll help you. 
 That's what I'm here for. And isn't it for the 
 good of the Revolution, too ? Just wait while 
 I run up stairs to say good-day to my wife and 
 children, and then I'll put on my apron and 
 take hold of my plane." 
 
 Lazuli and the others had heard Vau- 
 clair's voice and they all came running 
 down stairs. Lazuli kissed Vauclair, and 
 Adeline put her arms round my neck and 
 kissed me. And then there was a fire of ques- 
 tions. 
 
 "Has all gone well?" "Is the King's 
 Castle taken ? " "Is any one dead ?" 
 
 ' No, " we answered. ' ' We haven't taken 
 the Castle; we haven't even seen the King. 
 It will be for to-morrow, or the day after to- 
 morrow."" 
 
 Old Planchot, his hands folded under his 
 apron, kept grinning at our hugging and kiss- 
 ing and finally said: "Look here, Vauclair, it
 
 262 |)e ttebs of tl)e fflibi. 
 
 seems to me these young people are on mighty 
 good terms with each other! " 
 
 " When the affairs of the nation are all set- 
 tled, brother Planchot," said Lazuli, laughing, 
 "we'll have a wedding. We'll marry them in 
 front of the Liberty Tree." 
 
 As Adeline heard these words she remem- 
 bered her training as a well brought up young 
 lady and blushed furiously, while her eyes filled 
 with tears. Unclasping her arms from about 
 my neck, she covered her face with her hands. 
 
 To make things easier for her, I acted as if 
 nothing had happened. Taking off my sword 
 and pistols and my fine National Guard coat, I 
 rolled my shirt sleeves up to my elbows and 
 said to Planchot: "You want help. Here I 
 am all ready to help. What shall I do ?" 
 
 "Now that's the sort of boy I like," said 
 Planchot, slapping me on the shoulder. ' ' Well, 
 take this plane, and square the arms for the 
 guillotines. Do it carefully. See, you are to 
 plane down to the black mark. There is 
 enough here to keep you going for a week. 
 
 "As for you, Vauclair," Planchot went on, 
 "you are a master-workman and I'll give you 
 some of the finer work to do. You will make 
 the mortises in the lower blocks and chisel out 
 the long grooves the whole length of the arms.
 
 In tlje Slrcmge Neto im*s. 263 
 
 Those grooves must be as straight and true as 
 the lines on music paper." 
 
 "And can't we help too?" asked Lazuli 
 and Adeline and Clairet all together. 
 
 " Yes, yes," Planchot answered. " There's 
 work for us all. You can sweep away the 
 shavings and hand us our tools, and you can 
 melt the glue and among us we'll have such 
 guillotines as never were seen! " 
 
 I started in and planed away like a good 
 one. Soon the floor beside me was covered 
 with shavings some long, some short, some 
 delicate and shining like silk ribbon all twist- 
 ing and curling together like Adeline's pretty 
 hair. The pine wood with its sharp sweet 
 fresh smell made me feel almost as if I were 
 once more in the pine forests up in my own 
 mountains at Malemort. Close by my bench 
 Clairet and Adeline played in the shavings; and 
 whenever I asked for the straight-edge or the 
 square Adeline hurried to get it for me. 
 
 "Master Planchot," said Adeline, " we all 
 will go to the Feast of the Guillotines, won't 
 we ? Where is it to be ? " 
 
 Planchot opened wide his eyes, and for a 
 moment shut his jaws together so that his nose 
 almost touched his chin, as he answered: 
 " Yes, I'll take you all there, and you shall see
 
 of tle 4JUM. 
 
 how we'll use them. That will be a gay festi- 
 val. Nothing like it has ever been seen." 
 
 That was enough for us; we all were 
 sure then that those things were to be used as 
 triumphal arches for the festival that was to 
 take place after we had captured the King's 
 Castle. 
 
 "Father Planchot, will there be farandoles 
 at the Guillotine Feast?" asked Clairet one 
 day. 
 
 "Oh yes, yes, fine farandoles," said Plan- 
 chot, winking at Vauclair and me. 
 
 "And will there be wreaths of box and 
 lovely flowers twined all around the side- 
 pieces of the guillotines?" asked Adeline. 
 
 "Oh yes, yes, plenty of flowers and all 
 of them red," Planchot answered. 
 
 Vauclair and I asked no questions. We 
 did not want Planchot to see that we did not 
 really understand how the guillotines were to 
 be used. 
 
 "Master Planchot," Adeline went on, 
 "please lend me your pencil. 1 want to put 
 my name on the guillotine that I am using as 
 a bed. Perhaps 1 will know it again on the 
 day of the feast." 
 
 Our little lady was the only one of us who 
 knew how to write, and when she had fin-
 
 In tfye Strange IXeus (Eimes. 265 
 
 ished her fine performance we all went to look 
 at it. On the upper cross-piece, beside the 
 little pulley, she had written in big letters : 
 
 ADELINE 
 
 Oh that name ! It is more than sixty years 
 ago that she wrote it there yet to-day I see it 
 as plainly as I saw it then! 
 
 We sawed and planed and worked together 
 steadily for eight days. Every evening Vauclair 
 and I went back to the barracks to sleep, and 
 every morning early we came again to Father 
 Planchot's ; when the first questions would be 
 as we crossed the threshold: " Have you taken 
 the King's Castle ? How many were killed ?" 
 
 But our answer had to be always the same: 
 "No, we haven't taken it yet." 
 
 We were beginning to think that we never 
 would take it. Sometimes it was Santerre 
 who stopped us by declaring that he was ill 
 and we must wait for him to get well again ; 
 sometimes it was Petion, the Mayor of Paris, 
 who stopped us by pulling a long face and 
 saying mysteriously: "We must wait or all 
 will be lost. It is not the right moment"; 
 sometimes it was the National Assembly that 
 chimed in with: "Yes, you must wait, or 
 something will go wrong! "
 
 266 |)c Uebs of tlje ittibi. 
 
 At last one day our pockmarked Margan 
 stood up in the gallery of the Assembly and 
 shook his fist in the face of all the deputies as he 
 cried out: "You are all afraid. You sit there 
 shaking like reeds. You always are fearful that 
 something will or won't happen. And while 
 you talk, we wait we the Patriots, the Reds of 
 the Midi who have tramped through the heat 
 of the sun and the chill of the night our two 
 hundred leagues; we to whom you have not 
 allowed even enough mouldy bread to keep 
 our bellies from crying hunger! Shall I tell 
 you what we think of you ? We think you 
 are cowards! All we fear is your fear! Our 
 only dread is that if we wait for you to start 
 the Revolution there never will be any Revolu- 
 tion at all! " 
 
 But Margan's speech did no good; and we 
 of the Battalion were wearied and over wearied 
 by our waiting for the signal to start. And as 
 we lost heart the Aristocrats gained heart. 
 They saw that nothing happened, and they 
 began to pluck up their courage once more. 
 The time-serving shop-keepers, the money- 
 makers, painted fleurs-de-lys on their signs, 
 and stuck up for mottoes over their doors "A 
 fig for the Nation!" or "Vive la Reine!" or 
 "Vive le Roi!" And all this while swords
 
 Jn ttye Strange NOD imes. 267 
 
 and guns and pistols, with plenty of balls and 
 powder, were carried into the King's Castle 
 by the Royalist dogs who freely went and 
 came while we were stuck fast like so many 
 posts planted in the ground!. 
 
 That sort of thing could not be allowed to 
 go on. We raised our voices so loud that at 
 last we made ourselves heard. We swore 
 that if the others held back, and if leaders 
 were denied to us, we would march without 
 leaders on the King's Castle and would take it 
 alone. Then Barbaroux and Danton came to 
 our help. They talked with the Federals from 
 Brest, and with the true Patriots, the true Revo- 
 lutionists, of the National Guard; and among 
 them they arranged that our quarters should be 
 shifted across the river to the building that had 
 been the convent of the Cordeliers where the 
 Patriot Club used to meet because from there 
 we could march on the Castle easily. Danton 
 himself came to lead us to our new barracks, 
 and as he served out cartridges to us he 
 shouted: "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity or 
 Death ! " 
 
 At the Cordeliers we found Barbaroux wait- 
 ing for us, and he made us a speech that set 
 all our hearts to beating with joy. "To-mor- 
 row," he cried, "the fight that you have been
 
 268 (Elie Eebs of ti)* ittiM. 
 
 longing for shall be fought. In spite of all 
 Paris; in spite of the National Assembly; in 
 spite of Petion (of that Petion who boasted 
 that he would march you out of the city in no 
 time if the Assembly would but make him a 
 grant of seven thousand crowns) ; in spite of 
 them all, I say, and in spite of all the gods in 
 heaven and all the devils in hell, the tocsin 
 shall ring to-morrow night and by the morn- 
 ing we all will be dead or the King's Castle 
 will be ours! " 
 
 That time there was no trickery. The next 
 day all Paris was in a ferment while we worked 
 on at the guillotines. We knew that we should 
 not be wanted before evening, and the last of 
 the fourteen was almost done. Early in the 
 afternoon we finished it and threw down our 
 planes. 
 
 "All they need now," said Planchot, rub- 
 bing his hands, " is the razor of Equality. But 
 that is another man's affair. 'Tis no part of a 
 carpenter's business to shave! " 
 
 That last day's work was the hardest of 
 all. Everybody knew that there was thunder 
 in the air. From early morning the streets 
 had been crowded: heavy covered wagons 
 trundled along mysteriously; the King's 
 mounted gendarmes clattered hither and thither
 
 Jfn tl)e Strange Neto 9Times. 269 
 
 at a gallop; in all the quarters the drummers 
 were beating the assembly on a hundred 
 drums. 
 
 Lazuli and Adeline understood that at 
 last the fight was coming in earnest. They 
 spoke little. Without asking for orders they 
 loaded our pistols, and then they turned to 
 Father Planchot's grind-stone and fell to sharp- 
 ening our swords. But when the time came 
 for leaving them they fairly broke down. Oh, 
 how they cried, and how they begged us to 
 take care of ourselves and of each other! 
 
 "You needn't either of you be in the very 
 first rank." 
 
 "If you should get the smallest hurt, come 
 right back home." 
 
 " Vauclair, listen. Take good care of Pas- 
 calet; and you, Pascalet, don't leave Vauclair's 
 side." 
 
 And then more kisses and more tears. At 
 the last Adeline said to me: "If you see my 
 brother or my father, promise me that you 
 will not hurt them." And I, carried away by 
 her kisses, answered : " I will not. I give you 
 my word! " 
 
 While we were in the thick of our good- 
 byes Planchot had left us and had gone up 
 stairs to his bed-room. Suddenly he appeared
 
 270 (Elie fteb0 of tfye ittibi. 
 
 among us again, dressed in his uniform of the 
 Paris National Guard and a great-looking ob- 
 ject he was! He was a little bit of a man, 
 with a hooked nose like an owl's beak, a 
 pointed chin, and not a tooth in his head. 
 Like all old carpenters, his right shoulder was 
 higher than his left. What with his cocked 
 hat too big for him, his coat too long for him, 
 and his spindle legs, he was a regular Punch! 
 
 Janetoun came clattering down the stairs 
 after him and burst into the room at his heels 
 crying: "Thou shalt not go! I say thou shalt 
 not go! They can get along without thee 
 thou art too old to fight. Leave fighting to 
 the young folks. Thou wilt be killed by every- 
 body! The very horses will trample thee 
 down! Tell him, Vauclair, to stay at home. 
 He only will be in your way. Why, his 
 sword is longer than he is he can't draw it 
 out of the scabbard! Listen to reason, my 
 own Planchot; listen to reason, and stay here 
 with me! " 
 
 But Planchot wouldn't listen to reason; 
 and he answered her in French, speaking with 
 his strong Southern accent: " La revoluchion, il 
 nous appelle, nous vaincrons ou nous mour- 
 rissons!" ("The Revolution calls us. We 
 conquer or die! ")
 
 In ll)e Strange Neto (Slimes. 271 
 
 "That is all very well," said Janetoun; 
 "but what am I to do if you have an arm cut 
 off or a leg shot to pieces ? " 
 
 "La libarte ou la mort! Passe-moi mon 
 ache que z'ai 'aguisee pour tranca lou cou du 
 tyran!" ("Liberty or Death! Give me my 
 axe. I have sharpened it so as to cut off the 
 tyrant's head! ") 
 
 Janetoun had lived a good while in the 
 world and she knew there was more than one 
 way of catching martins. When she found 
 that talking to her man did no good she tried 
 another tack all of a sudden giving an awful 
 scream and striking her hands together and 
 going down on a heap of shavings in a bunch. 
 
 Planchot stopped talking bad French and 
 shouted in honest Proven9al: "Heavens and 
 earth, my wife has fainted! Quick, get the 
 vinegar! " 
 
 Lazuli and Adeline rushed up stairs for the 
 vinegar and orange-flower water, and the mo- 
 ment they were gone Vauclair and I nodded 
 to each other and off we went without more 
 ado. 
 
 Once in the street we had no chance to 
 
 think of those we had left behind us. In an 
 
 instant we were in the thick of a pushing, 
 
 crushing crowd. We got ahead as we could, 
 
 19
 
 272 $l)e ftebe of tlje iftiM. 
 
 often being forced back two steps for one step 
 that we had gained as a squadron of gen- 
 darmes crushed their way through the press, or 
 a band of Aristocrats came along roaring: 
 "Death to the brigands!" or a company of 
 Patriots crying: "Vive la Nation!" Some 
 carried red flags, some black ; we even saw a 
 bullock's heart, all bleeding, carried high on 
 the point of a pike. Women with their hair 
 hanging loose over their shoulders were pushing 
 this way and that, while above their heads 
 they waved their bare arms. Barefooted men 
 were strutting along brandishing rusty pikes 
 and nicked swords and crazy old guns. Even 
 the children were flourishing everything they 
 could lay hands on that looked like a weapon. 
 And from all the Patriot throats would come 
 storming forth from time to time the Patriot 
 song: 
 
 Dansons la Carmagnole, Dance we the Carmagnole! 
 
 Vive le son, vive le son, Hurrah for the roar! Hurrah 
 
 for the roar! 
 
 Dansons la Carmagnole, Dance we the Carmagnole! 
 
 Vive le son du canon! Hurrah for the roar the can- 
 
 non roar! 
 
 As we worked our way along toward the 
 King's Castle there went by a company of 
 Royalist regulars all pomaded and be-pow-
 
 Sn ll)e Strange Netu ime0. 273 
 
 dered and be-curled, wearing silk stockings 
 with buckled garters, and with swords and 
 pistols all bright and shining in the sun. They 
 carried a banner of blue and white, the King's 
 colours, on which was written: "Hurrah for 
 the Austrian and Prussian armies who will en- 
 ter Paris victorious! "; and as they marched on 
 toward the Castle they sang the Anti-Patriot 
 version of our ' ' a ira " : 
 
 Ah! fa ira! fa ira! Oh, all goes well! Oh, all 
 
 goes well! 
 
 De mal en bien tout change From bad to good all France 
 en France! doth turn! 
 
 Ah! fa ira! fa ira! Oh, all goes well! Oh, all 
 
 goes well ! 
 
 Car c'est Louis qui regnera. For Louis will reign over us 
 
 Antoinette Ton cherira, And Antoinette will cher- 
 
 ished be 
 
 Et les Jacobins Ton pendra! While the Jacobins shall 
 
 hang! 
 
 As the singing soldiers passed on toward 
 the Castle the sun was setting down the line 
 of the Seine in a burning blood-red glow. 
 From close to us down far away to where 
 clouds and earth came together, everything 
 touched by the sunrays spires, domes, the 
 tall houses and the walls of the Castle was 
 blood-red. The river seemed running with 
 flaming blood that looked still redder and
 
 274 l)e ftebs of ll)e 
 
 brighter because of the piers and arches of the 
 bridges which made black splotches against 
 its crimson glow. 
 
 We stopped for a moment to look at this 
 strange sight; and as we went on again Vau- 
 clair said, very seriously: "That means that 
 there will be a great killing of men ! " 
 
 It was almost dark when we got back to 
 our barracks in the Cordeliers; and there we 
 found Barbaroux and Danton and Rebecqui 
 talking away while they strode backwards 
 and forwards in the courtyard to a group of 
 Federals who evidently had been saying that 
 they dreaded more of Santerre's tricks and de- 
 lays. 
 
 "I tell you," cried Barbaroux, "that this 
 time Santerre surely will come or his days of 
 coming and going on this earth surely will 
 end. Look here! " (as he spoke he unbuttoned 
 his coat and threw it open) "Look here! You 
 always have seen two pistols stuck in my sash. 
 Now there are none. And this is what has 
 gone with them. I gave one of them to a Pa- 
 triot whom I can trust as I trust myself, and I 
 said to him : ' You know Mandat, the Comman- 
 dant-General of the National Guard of Paris ? 
 Well, follow him by day and by night and if 
 he dares to turn his men against the troops of
 
 In ttye Strange Nero dimes. 275 
 
 the Revolution take this pistol and blow out his 
 brains. So will you serve the cause of our 
 country and of Liberty ! ' And that good Pa- 
 triot, answering me, said: 'I swear that you 
 shall cut off my head if I fail to obey you! ' 
 
 "And the other pistol I gave to another 
 good Patriot, and I said to him: 'You know 
 Commandant Santerre ! Well, follow him by 
 day and by night and when the drums beat 
 the assembly and the tocsin rings if you do not 
 find him at the head of his men coming to join 
 the troops of the Revolution take this pistol 
 and blow out his brains. So will you serve 
 well the cause of our country and of Liber- 
 ty!' And that good Patriot, answering me, 
 said : ' I swear that you shall cut off my head 
 if I fail to obey you! ' 
 
 "And so, you see," Barbaroux went on, 
 " those two are provided for. One other man is 
 left who may play us false, and that is Petion, 
 the Mayor of Paris. But he also is provided 
 for. At this moment fifty tried and faithful 
 Jacobins have Petion shut up in the Hotel de 
 Ville; and they will neither let him go out nor 
 let him speak to any one until the Castle is 
 taken and the King and Queen are our pris- 
 oners." 
 
 Before Barbaroux had finished, Margan,
 
 276 (Efye ftebg of ttye ittibi. 
 
 gun in hand, jumped up on the table beside 
 him and shouted : "What do we care whether 
 or not the Parisians will march ? When did 
 they ever do anything for the cause of Liberty ? 
 For near a fortnight we've been waiting here 
 like a pack of gaping idiots. These Parisians, 
 every one of them, have chicken-hearts. They 
 called for help ; they called to us to come up 
 and help them and now they are afraid of us ! 
 And they are right to be afraid of us, for we 
 will crush them if they stand in our way. We 
 are come from Marseilles, from Toulon, from 
 Avignon, from all over the hot South, to save 
 the Country and proclaim the Revolution. 
 We'll do it! God's own thunder won't stop 
 us! We'll march in spite of Paris! If we 
 must, we'll march against Paris! and we'll 
 rush to the assault shouting 'Death or Lib- 
 erty ! ' ' 
 
 "Well said, Margan! Well said!" cried 
 Samat, as he sprang up on a table and waved 
 his banner of The Rights of Man while all of 
 us, shouting together, filled the courtyard with 
 an angry roar. 
 
 Another Marseillais made himself heard: 
 "In the National Assembly," he cried, "they 
 are all cowards ! Petion, this Mayor of Paris, 
 is a traitor. It was he who said, 'Give me
 
 In tl)e Strange HKew ftitnes. 277 
 
 seven thousand crowns, and I'll get rid of the 
 Marseillais.' Tell him to come here with his 
 seven thousand crowns! Are we a herd of 
 pigs and is he our herdsman, that he dare to 
 say we are for sale ? We must give this 
 traitor Parisian the lie. Here is my pistol and 
 I swear that if the Marseilles Battalion doesn't 
 march to the assault before day comes I, 1 who 
 am speaking to you, will blow my brains out 
 that 1 may not die of shame!" 
 
 " He's right, the Patriot's right! " called out 
 one of our men who stood in a far corner and 
 who hammered with his sword upon a table 
 until he made himself heard. "He's right. 
 With us it must be Death or Liberty! Not one 
 of us ever will go back into the South again 
 until we have thrown down the tyrant and 
 brought Paris to reason. What are these 
 Parisians, any way ? When we are off in our 
 far provinces they look down on us ; they cry 
 out at us for dregs and starvelings ; they sneer 
 at us because we don't talk through our noses 
 with their own duck- quacking 'couin! couin! 
 couin!' But now that we are here, and they 
 see us, they tremble! We must show them 
 who we are and what we can do. So far, 
 they have only barked from a long way off. 
 If they come nearer, showing their teeth; if
 
 278 l)e lebs of tl)e JttiM. 
 
 they try to stop us in our good work then 
 will we quiet their nose-talking once and for 
 all!" 
 
 We all believed that there was good reason 
 for these bitter words against the Parisians, 
 and at each one of them we cheered and 
 cheered. For the whisper had gone around 
 that the National Assembly was trying to find 
 some excuse for sending our Battalion packing 
 out of the Capital ; and we also had been told 
 that the National Guard of Paris, instead of 
 joining us, would fight against us in defence of 
 the King. But Danton, the good Jacobin, 
 knew better; and presently he was up again 
 on a table and making a speech to us in which 
 the whole matter was set right and clear. Ah, 
 he was a man! He spoke French, and we 
 couldn't understand all his words; but we 
 understood all his thought. 
 
 He began by telling us, shortly, that who- 
 ever said all the Parisians would be against us 
 lied ; and then he told us very clearly and care- 
 fully how the attack on the King's Castle was 
 to be made. The battalions of the Faubourg 
 de Gloire, he said, were to march to the Place 
 du Carrousel (as they called the open space in 
 front of the Castle) by way of the Place de la 
 Greve and the Arcade Saint-Jean; the bat-
 
 Jfn tlje Strange New STimes. 279 
 
 talions of the Faubourg Saint-Marceau were to 
 come up to the Horse Market, and from there 
 were to follow the river and cross it by the 
 Pont-Neuf; and we, the Marseillais, with the 
 Federals from Brest and the students from the 
 schools, were to cross the river by the Pont- 
 Saint-Michel and enter the Place du Carrousel 
 through the galleries of the Louvre. It was a 
 plan, he said, that had been carefully thought 
 out and that promised well; and all the forces 
 pledged to take part in it could be trusted to 
 the death. For the signal of attack, he said 
 finally, an alarm-cannon would be fired on the 
 Pont-Neuf and the tocsin would ring from all 
 the church towers and then the good fight 
 would begin ! 
 
 Our eyes filled with tears as we listened to 
 him, and while those who were nearest to him 
 embraced his knees we all cried together: 
 " God grant that your good words be true! " 
 
 The night had run onward while all this 
 talk went on. It was late within an hour of 
 midnight. We remembered that we were 
 hungry, and fell to eating our rations of garlic 
 and dry bread. Suddenly a shot was fired in 
 the street almost at the door of our barracks. 
 In an instant we had seized our arms and were 
 filing out in line. Our Commandant and Bar-
 
 280 l)e ftebs of tt)e ittibi. 
 
 baroux and Danton tried to hold us back. The 
 drums had not yet beaten the assembly, the 
 time to march had not yet come, they shouted 
 but our own drummers already were beating 
 the quick-step, and in spite of all they could 
 say we were off. Feeling our cartridges, to 
 make sure that they were in order, away we 
 went through the dark streets as silently as a 
 flock of sheep ; keeping time with our footsteps 
 to the quick rattle of our drums. 
 
 My mouth was dry. I chewed and chewed 
 away at a bit of bread, but could no more 
 swallow it than if my throat had been held 
 close by an iron band. 1 was all of a tremble, 
 just as if I had a fever; and I was shaking 
 with an excitement I could not understand. 
 It was about midnight when we came out of 
 the tangle of narrow streets through which we 
 had been marching upon the wide way beside 
 the river. The weather was soft and warm ; 
 the stars shone brightly in a clear sky; on the 
 bridges and along both banks of the river rows 
 of lanterns were swinging in the wind. 
 
 But there beside the quiet river we struck 
 upon such a tremendous crowd and such a 
 whirl of confusion that it seemed as though 
 we had got to the very end of the world. All 
 the bridges were held by Anti-Patriot soldiery.
 
 In tlje Strange Neto Cintes. 281 
 
 Mounted gendarmes were galloping backwards 
 and forwards, making the crowd cry out and 
 reel and surge in angry waves. In one mo- 
 ment we would hear a bugle-call, in the next 
 the roll of drums. From the other side of the 
 river came the clatter of troops of horse and 
 the rumbling of gun-carriages. Everywhere 
 there was a dull roar made up of the shoutings 
 of thousands and thousands of voices, with 
 now and then a clear cry rising sharply of 
 "Vive la Nation! "or "Vive le Roi!" And 
 all the while that we were pushing our way 
 slowly through the crowd we could see loom- 
 ing high before us rising up like the crags of 
 the Luberon the black mass of the King's 
 Castle outlined against the sky. 
 
 Our orders were to cross by the Pont-Saint- 
 Michel; but our leading files halted as they 
 came to the bridge and our drums stopped 
 beating. We all pushed and crowded to 
 the front to see what was the matter; and 
 we found that Commandant Moisson had 
 gone forward alone and was talking with 
 the commander of the detachment of Anti- 
 Patriots by whom the bridge was held. Pres- 
 ently he came back to us, saying that the guard 
 on the bridge had orders to let no one pass a 
 piece of news that set us to stamping with
 
 282 l)e &ebs of tl)C Jttibi. 
 
 anger, until the good thought occurred to us 
 to bring up our cannon and clear a passage 
 with a dose of grape. 
 
 "Steady, men!" called out our Comman- 
 dant. "Steady! We mustn't spoil things by 
 going too fast. We have our orders, and we 
 must obey them. Not a shot must be fired 
 until the alarm-cannon gives the signal that 
 the work is to begin." 
 
 " And where is this alarm-cannon ?" asked 
 Margan; who hardly could speak plainly, he 
 was in such a towering rage. 
 
 "It's on the Pont-Neuf," answered our 
 Commandant; "and the bad luck is that it is 
 in the hands of the Anti-Patriots." 
 
 "If that's all," said Margan, "I'll start the 
 attack in no time. Anti-Patriots or no Anti- 
 Patriots, I'll fire that gun! " 
 
 "Silence!" cried the Commandant. 
 "Trust yourselves to me, men. I promise 
 you that we'll cross at the hour settled on, and 
 that you shall be in the tyrant's house ahead of 
 them all." 
 
 But no silence followed the Commandant's 
 order. Everybody fell to chattering about 
 what ought to be done or not done. The 
 whole Battalion was talking at once. 
 
 It was in the thick of all this palaver that
 
 In ttye Strange Nero (Eimes. 283 
 
 Margan and Sergeant Peloux and I broke from 
 the ranks and went out upon the bridge to 
 where the first line of the National Guards 
 barred the way. 
 
 Here Pascal stood up, slapped Lou Materoun 
 on the shoulder, and said: "See here, it won't 
 do to have last night's nonsense over again. 
 My brother Lange says he won't come for me 
 again. He says that if I won't come home in 
 good time of my own accord he'll bolt me out. 
 And 1 know the stuff Lange is made of he'll 
 do what he says! " 
 
 After that there was nothing to wait for and 
 we all got up too. I rose more slowly than 
 the rest, for the cat was asleep on my lap and 
 I did not want to wake her. I laid her down 
 on my little bench so gently that she only half 
 opened her eyes and gave a drowsy gurgling 
 purr, and instantly went off to sleep again. 
 By way of good night, I ran my hand softly 
 over her soft fur; and then, holding fast to 
 my grandfather's breeches, I too went off to 
 bed.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE STORMING OF THE KING'S CASTLE. 
 
 ALL night long I dreamed of that famous 
 alarm-cannon which Margan had declared he 
 would fire off. The next day I saw old Pascal 
 sitting on the block in front of his mule's 
 stable. I was playing at marbles with oak- 
 galls, all by myself, and I rolled them nearer 
 and nearer to him while I tried to bring up my 
 courage to the point of asking him just one 
 question: "Did they fire it off?" But my 
 courage would not rise so high. I even sent 
 an oak-gall in between his feet; in the hope 
 that he would speak to me as I was getting it, 
 and so would give me a chance to ask that 
 question that was burning the tip of my 
 tongue. I don't think that he even saw me. 
 He certainly took no notice of me. Perhaps 
 his spirit was wandering over the sands of 
 Egypt, or dreaming under a pomegranate tree 
 in Spain. 
 
 Night came at last, supper was over, the 
 
 284
 
 Storming of tl)c King's (Hustle. 285 
 
 lantern was lighted, and I already had my hand 
 on the door-latch. But my grandfather, instead 
 of following me, went down into the cellar by 
 the other door. Presently he came up again 
 carrying a big bottle, holding nearly a gallon, 
 of rich-coloured malmsey. "This is Saint 
 Martin's Eve," said he. " The neighbours will 
 enjoy a good cordial with their Saint Martin's 
 chestnut feast." 
 
 A blind man would have known that it 
 was Saint Martin's Eve. From every house 
 came the appetizing savour of roasting chest- 
 nuts and the sharp sweet smell of the blazing 
 faggots of thyme; and above the hum of the 
 spinning-wheels we heard the rattling of the 
 chestnuts in the roasting-pans and the laugh- 
 ing shrieks of the girls as the corks popped 
 and burst forth from the bottles of new wine 
 just brought up from the cellars to be drunk in 
 honour of the good Saint Martin : the patron 
 saint of all honest lovers of a bottle and a glass. 
 
 As we entered the shoemaker's shop La 
 Mie called from the depths of the kitchen: 
 "Oh, Pascal, do wait a minute. The chest- 
 nuts are almost done," and as she spoke we 
 heard the last of them going off with sharp 
 pops in the pan. 
 
 "Don't get excited, La Mie it's bad for
 
 286 lje ttcbs of tlje iflibi. 
 
 the blood. I'll wait for you," Pascal an- 
 swered. 
 
 In five minutes she came in with a huge 
 platter of roasted chestnuts covered snugly 
 with a sack folded four-double so that they 
 would be well steamed and when she had 
 set it on the stove, and had placed glasses be- 
 side my grandfather's bottle on the dresser, all 
 was ready for Saint Martin's feast. 
 
 But we still had to wait a little for the 
 story. Just as La Mie had seated herself Lou 
 Materoun said to her: "I don't want to order 
 you about, La Mie, but I wish you'd get me a 
 straw from your broom to clean out my pipe- 
 stem." 
 
 "Confound you!" exclaimed La Mie, 
 crossly, as she jumped up to go and get the 
 straw. " Haven't you any broom in your own 
 house ? " 
 
 " It's not every house," Lou Materoun an- 
 swered, "that's as well furnished as this one 
 where there's not only a broom but also a 
 mop ! " * 
 
 "You beast of a chatterbox!" cried La 
 Mie, plumping back into her seat. "Find a 
 
 * T'anoucbo means a cleaning-rag fastened in a handle, 
 and it also means' a slut, a dirty woman.
 
 QLtye Storming of ttje King's OTastlc. 287 
 
 straw for yourself you shall have none of 
 mine! " 
 
 "No matter my pipe has cleaned it- 
 self." 
 
 "Mops indeed!" she repeated. "Every 
 one knows that you mop up your floor by 
 dragging your wife around by her hair! " 
 
 "I do the best I can, La Mie. I'm not a 
 shoemaker I haven't a leather strap." 
 
 "Oh, hold your tongue, Lou Materoun!" 
 said my grandfather. " We're not here to lis- 
 ten to your clapper clawing. We are here for 
 Pascal's story." 
 
 "Yes, Lou Materoun," said old Pascal, 
 " you seem to be working up a little sour like 
 wine that is going wrong. You'd better keep 
 still for a while and let yourself settle." 
 
 And so, order having been restored, old 
 Pascal settled himself on the bench and went 
 on. 
 
 Well, as I told you yesterday, Margan and 
 Peloux and I broke from our ranks and went 
 out on the bridge to where the National Guards 
 barred the way. Margan knew French, and 
 by drawing his nose together and speaking 
 through it he could talk just like a Parisian ; 
 we being close behind him, he fell to talking 
 
 20
 
 288 l)e ftebs of tlje iflibi. 
 
 away with three men who stood a little in ad- 
 vance of the enemy's line. 
 
 But he found in no time that they were not 
 enemies at all. They were good friends of 
 the Nation, and they wanted as much as any- 
 body to make the Revolution a success. Then 
 Margan saw his way to what he wanted 
 (though that was more than we did) and said 
 to them: " Since you are good Patriots, show 
 it by doing what I ask. Lend us your cocked- 
 hats and do you take in place of them our red 
 caps. It will be only for five minutes while 
 we go up to the Pont-Neuf and come back 
 again. But in that five minutes the Nation 
 will be saved! " 
 
 They were good fellows, those Parisians. 
 Without stopping to ask questions they did 
 what Margan wanted, and in the darkness 
 that they might not be questioned by their 
 companions they drew away toward our 
 ranks. 
 
 Margan did not keep us waiting long to 
 find out what he was driving at. In a low 
 voice, but dead in earnest, he said to us: "If 
 you are good Federals, good Reds of the Midi, 
 you will put on those hats and follow me. We 
 are going to the Pont-Neuf and we'll leave our 
 skins there or we'll fire that gun! Do you,
 
 lje Storming of tlje King's <Eo0tle. 289 
 
 Peloux, get ready a good fuse that will burn 
 well; and do you, Pascalet, get flint and steel 
 that you may light it when the moment comes. 
 I will tackle the officer in command on the 
 bridge, and while I keep him in talk you must 
 manage between you to touch off the cannon 
 and give the alarm." 
 
 Then we understood, and we were ready 
 to jump for joy! Peloux got out a good fuse 
 and with it, in case the cannon should need 
 priming, a handful of powder and turned 
 over to me his flint and steel; and off we 
 started through the darkness and the crowd. 
 In five minutes we had reached the Pont-Neuf, 
 where we were halted with a sharp "Qui 
 vive ? " 
 
 " Friends," Margan answered. " An order 
 from the Commandant of the Pont-Saint- 
 Michel." 
 
 " Pass! " and we were on the Pont-Neuf, 
 walking along between two files of the Anti- 
 Patriot guard. But we were safe enough 
 under our blue-plumed cocked-hats. They 
 took no notice of us and in a moment we 
 had come to the middle of the bridge and 
 were close to the gun. It was trained toward 
 the river, and standing around it were the four 
 men of its crew.
 
 290 l)e Uebs of tlje 4JUbi. 
 
 "Attention!" cried Margan, as though he 
 had commanded gunners all his life; and as 
 the men stepped forward no doubt thinking 
 he was an officer with orders he pulled a 
 paper out of his pocket, opened it slowly in 
 the dull light that came from the bridge lamp, 
 and held it up as if he were going to read. 
 
 Peloux and I did not lose an instant. As 
 the gunners came forward, we slipped into 
 their places; while Margan got out his paper, 
 Peloux made sure of the priming and I struck 
 my flint and steel together and the flying sparks 
 lighted the fuse; and just as Margan held up 
 the paper, as though to read it, we got the 
 burning fuse to the touch-hole, and Bang! 
 
 That gun-shot only a blank cartridge, that 
 did not even ripple the quiet-flowing river over 
 which it roared shook the world: for it 
 knocked to pieces the throne of France! 
 
 Before even its echo came back from the 
 walls of the King's Castle, every belfry in Paris 
 was ringing out the tocsin of the Revolution. 
 Our own drums joining with a hundred other 
 drums began to beat over on the Pont-Saint- 
 Michel. We heard their lively sharp rattle in 
 the same quick-step that so often had cheered 
 and helped us in our long march northward. 
 But what brought tears to our eyes and made
 
 Storming of tlje King's QTastle. 291 
 
 our hearts beat high was hearing our brothers 
 of the Battalion burst forth with the "Mar- 
 seillaise " : 
 
 Aliens enfants de la Patrie, Onward, children of our 
 
 land! 
 Le jour de gloire est arrive; Now the day of glory 
 
 dawns! 
 Centre nous de la tyrannic, Blood-stained banners rise to 
 
 flout us 
 L'etendart sanglant est leve. Held aloft by tyrant hands! 
 
 " Who dared to fire the alarm-gun ?" cried 
 the officer in command on the bridge, rushing 
 at us and speaking in a voice hoarse with 
 rage. 
 
 And instantly we three, Margan and Peloux 
 and I, as though we had settled it all before- 
 hand, had our pistols levelled at his head and 
 were shouting " Vive la Nation! " 
 
 "Vive la Nation!" shouted the gunners 
 after us, for they too were good Patriots. 
 
 That settled the Commandant who went 
 white as a sheet when he saw in front of his 
 nose the three muzzles of our pistols, and then 
 turned around and stammered out an order to 
 his men. But his men, who heard the assem- 
 bly beating everywhere, had so lost their heads 
 that they paid no attention to orders; and a 
 moment later up came the Patriot battalions
 
 292 l)e ftebs of llje 4JUM. 
 
 from the Faubourg Saint-Marceau and took 
 possession of the Pont-Neuf without striking a 
 blow. 
 
 We had done what we came to do, and 
 away we went again to join our fellows on the 
 Pont-Saint-Michel. There we waited for our 
 supporting column, the Patriot troops from the 
 Faubourg de Gloire, .while all around us we 
 heard the call of trumpets and the roll of drums. 
 
 While we stood there, chafing to go for- 
 ward, a commotion of some sort a tremen- 
 dous pushing and crushing began in the 
 closely pressed crowd over on the other side 
 of the Pont-au-Change. We heard cries and 
 roars without knowing what they meant 
 until twenty or thirty Patriots burst out from 
 the crowd and came upon our bridge, drag- 
 ging along a dead body hacked to pieces and 
 covered with blood. It was the body of the 
 Commandant General, Mandat. He had no 
 more than begun to issue the orders which 
 were to stop the Patriots than the man to 
 whom Barbaroux had given the pistol stepped 
 forward and blew out his brains. 
 
 "Liberty or Death!" we shouted, and all 
 the crowd with us and then the traitor's body 
 was dragged to the middle of the bridge and 
 tumbled over into the stream. For a moment
 
 Storming of tlje King's Castle. 293 
 
 it whirled around 'under the arches like the 
 body of a dead dog, and then it was gone. 
 From the Faubourg de Gloire all the way to 
 the Castle rose shouts of "Vive la Nation!" 
 And all the bells, as though they too wanted 
 to shout with us, pealed louder and louder the 
 tocsin of the Revolution. 
 
 We heard the rattle of drums advancing 
 from the Faubourg de Gloire, and knew that 
 our support was coming up. "Forward!'' 
 cried Commandant Moisson, and off we started 
 to take the lead for we were determined that 
 the first to march to the attack, and the first to 
 step over the threshold of the King's Castle, 
 should be the Reds of the Midi! 
 
 The street of Saint-Honore, into which we 
 turned, was wild with noise and confusion. 
 Our two drums beat steadily. We sang the 
 ' ' Marseillaise " with all our lungs. The wheels 
 of our gun-carriages and of the forge clanged 
 on the pavement. Behind us the battalions of 
 the Faubourg de Gloire were shouting the 
 " a ira " to the rattle of their fourteen drums. 
 All together we went on through the quarter 
 of the Aristocrats like a furious torrent, like a 
 mighty wind. 
 
 Now and then a high up window would 
 be opened and a shot fired down at us but
 
 294 t)e ftebs of ll)e HUM. 
 
 we laughed and marched on. "We can't 
 stop for pop-gun work now," cried long 
 Samat, hoisting still higher his banner of The 
 Rights of Man; "We'll attend to them to- 
 morrow," cried Margan. "Then they shall 
 swallow the same sort of plum-stones that 
 we'll give to the tyrant to-night! " 
 
 As we drew closer to the Castle the fire got 
 hotter. Shots kept popping out at us from 
 cellar-windows, from balconies, from the roofs. 
 But nothing stopped us. On we marched, 
 faster and faster and roaring louder and louder 
 the " Marseillaise." 
 
 So we came to the Place du Carrousel, and 
 found it full of Anti-Patriots: grenadiers, pike- 
 men, gendarmes. But they fell back as we 
 advanced. The gendarmes broke in no time. 
 The grenadiers and pikemen held their ground 
 a little better; but as we pressed upon them 
 with our howling chorus, "Tremble, tyrants! 
 And you, traitors!" they too gave way. In 
 a moment their ranks were broken and they 
 were crowding back against the iron gates of 
 the Castle court; and in another moment the 
 gates were opened and the whole pack of 
 them, gendarmes, grenadiers, pikemen, had 
 rushed pell-mell inside. The Place du Car- 
 rousel was ours!
 
 &l)e Storming of tl)e King's Castle. 295 
 
 Our Battalion halted, and we formed our 
 lines in front of the gate of the Cour Royale 
 the gate that had just banged-to on the backs 
 of the runaway soldiers of the King. We 
 were separated from the Castle only by its 
 three courts the Cour Royale in front of us, 
 the Cour des Princes to the right, the Cour des 
 Suisses to the left. Day was breaking, and 
 the Castle no longer loomed up before us a 
 mere black mass. We could see it all plainly; 
 and we could see the mattresses piled in the 
 windows, with loop-holes left through which 
 the guards could fire as we came on. 
 
 Our support came up the battalions from 
 the Faubourg de Gloire; the battalions from 
 the Faubourg Saint-Marceau, wearing their 
 plumes of cock's feathers; the Federals from 
 Brest in their red coats and we greeted each 
 other with shouts of "Vive la Nation!" that 
 rang in the air. 
 
 At that instant, as our great shout of Liberty 
 went upward, the first sunrays of that August 
 morning struck upon the highest walls of the 
 Castle; and we saw that the sun was rising, 
 as he had set, blood-red as though God him- 
 self wished to be with us and had given us a 
 sign. 
 
 The drums no longer were counted by two
 
 296 &l)e Uc&0 of tl)e 
 
 or by fourteen. Two score of them, a hun- 
 dred of them, were rattling away together the 
 pas de charge! No longer was it hundreds 
 but thousands and thousands of voices which 
 were crying together: "Death or Liberty!'' 
 Drums and voices rang out so loud and rose 
 up with such tremendous force that the houses 
 and the very stones in the streets were shaken, 
 as though an earthquake had come. 
 
 Commandant Moisson" went up to the 
 great gate of the Cour Royale, and cried loudly 
 as he struck it three times with the pommel of 
 his sword: "Open, in the name of the People 
 and of Liberty ! " 
 
 But there was no answer and the door re- 
 mained shut fast. 
 
 I was in the front rank. The Commandant 
 turned to me. "Pascalet," said he, "suppose 
 there were ripe cherries on the other side of 
 that wall. Couldn't you manage to get your 
 share of them ?" 
 
 There was no need for him to give me an 
 order. I knew what he wanted and in a 
 moment my gun was slung over my shoulder 
 and I had begun to climb. In another mo- 
 ment, going up lightly as a cat, I was a-straddle 
 of the top of the wall. "What next, Com- 
 mandant ? " I called down.
 
 Storming 0f tfye Hing'0 (East!*. 297 
 
 " Tell me what's going on in there." 
 
 "They're all running away like rabbits, 
 Commandant. May I -- ? " and I drew and 
 levelled my pistols. " I could make a splendid 
 double shot! " 
 
 ' ' Don't fire ! Don't fire ! " he cried. 
 
 " Well, it's too late now they're all safe in- 
 side. The gendarmes, the green grenadiers, the 
 red Swiss the whole riff-raff has got safe away. 
 
 "No! No! "I went on. "There's still one 
 left and I do believe it's the King! Hello, 
 Capet, is that you ? Pull up or I'll shoot! Oh, 
 it must be the King. Shall I fire, Comman- 
 dant ? Oh, mayn't I fire ? " 
 
 "No, you may not," answered the Com- 
 mandant sharply. 
 
 "He's gone," I said, lowering my pistol. 
 " It's a pity you didn't let me shoot him, Com- 
 mandant. He certainly was the King. He 
 came out of the little house by the door, and he 
 was splendidly dressed in an embroidered coat 
 and velvet breeches and white silk stockings, 
 and he had silver buckles on his shining shoes. 
 It was the King for sure! " 
 
 " Oh you little numskull," laughed the Com- 
 mandant, while all the men of the Battalion 
 who had heard me laughed too. "Why, that 
 was the porter! "
 
 298 lie Eebs of tlje JttiM. 
 
 "Then I'll do his work for him," I cried 
 and down I dropped into the court, and in ten 
 seconds I had lifted away the bar and drawn 
 the bolts and the gate was open wide. In 
 marched Commandant Moisson and the Battal- 
 ion after him and the Reds of the Midi were 
 the first to enter the Castle of the King! 
 
 At that very instant though we did not 
 know it until later the tyrant and his Austrian 
 woman were running for their lives on the 
 other side of the Castle through the gardens. 
 Liberty came in triumphant, while Despotism 
 slunk away like a fox smoked out of its lair. 
 
 But we thought that the King still was in- 
 side, and so made our arrangements to hold 
 him fast. Our Battalion, with the Brest Fed- 
 erals, occupied the Cour Royale; the Cour des 
 Princes and the gardens were held by the men 
 from the Faubourg de Gloire; the force from 
 the Faubourg Saint-Marceau took possession of 
 the Cour des Suisses and so we had the Castle 
 surrounded on all sides. 
 
 The King's soldiers were standing ready 
 for us. Along the whole front of the Castle and 
 up the steps leading to the main doorway was 
 a barricade of human flesh gendarmes, grena- 
 diers, pikemen that we would have to break 
 our way through ; and in front of this line were
 
 fjtye Storming of tlje King's (Eostle. 299 
 
 the black muzzles of fourteen cannon. Inside, 
 the red-coated Swiss filled the hall and the 
 stairway ; and on the balconies and at the win- 
 dows and on the terraces of the garden were 
 posted dukes and counts and marquises, and 
 all the small-fry of the nobility beside. There 
 were ten thousand of them, I suppose, and we 
 had to get rid of them all ! 
 
 But at first it looked as if there would be 
 no need for a fight. As we entered the court 
 some of the King's gunners shouted "Vive la 
 Nation!." and at the same time some of the 
 Swiss threw us their cartridges in proof that 
 they did not mean to fire. Finding things 
 going so well, and doubting nothing, some of 
 us stooped to pick up the cartridges and others 
 of us went forward to press the hands of the 
 men who were showing themselves to be not 
 the King's servants and our enemies but Patriots 
 and our friends. 
 
 But we were going too fast in failing to 
 reckon with the Aristocrats who were looking 
 down at us from their loop-holes with their 
 guns in their hands. 
 
 Suddenly there was a deafening crash in 
 the air above us and from all the windows 
 poured down upon us a hail of balls. At that 
 first volley Commandant Moisson fell with both
 
 300 |)e Ecfcs of tlje ittiM. 
 
 legs shattered, and seven of our men dead and 
 twenty wounded were lying on the ground. 
 
 Our line fell back but only a few steps and 
 only for a moment. Our Commandant, des- 
 perately wounded though he was, rallied us. 
 Raising himself on his arms he shouted "Vive 
 la Nation!" and at those words our lines 
 steadied, the muzzles of our guns went down 
 as smooth and even as a wind-pressed fence 
 of canes, and at the command " Fire! " we be- 
 gan to pour in upon the traitors in the Castle 
 a steady rain of balls. Before our fire gen- 
 darmes and grenadiers and pikemen went 
 down in heaps, blood spirting from their 
 wounds like wine from a cask. Horses fell 
 dead or reared and plunged in the terror caused 
 by their hurts; and bits of stone and plaster 
 came rattling down from the walls. 
 
 But we also were getting it. Balls whistled 
 all around us and among us coming from 
 windows and roofs and balconies, from every- 
 where all at once! The spat! spat! as they 
 struck the ground was all around me with 
 that queer softer sound that a bullet makes 
 when it breaks in upon human flesh and bone. 
 I was in mortal terror, and I said to myself: 
 "Oh, oh, oh, poor Pascalet! If you don't 
 die to-day you'll never die at all! "
 
 l)e Storming of tl)e fling's Ctastle. 3 01 
 
 Right beside me, Samat was struck between 
 the eyes by a ball which blew his head open. 
 He fell upon me, still holding his banner of 
 The Rights of Man. In the thick choking 
 smoke, I did not know what really had hap- 
 pened. I thought that I was wounded and I 
 felt myself all over to find where I was hurt. 
 But I couldn't find any wound; and then I 
 made out that the heavy weight upon my 
 breast was what was left of poor Samat's head. 
 Well, he was dead and all I could do for him 
 was to drag his body a little away on one side, 
 close to the foot of a wall. 
 
 1 set to work with my gun again though 
 the thick smoke so blinded me that I could not 
 well make out what I was firing at and fired 
 steadily. At least two thirds of our shots were 
 wasted against the Castle walls. The luck 
 was against us, for the Royalists at the win- 
 dows and on the balconies could see where to 
 aim and nearly every one of their shots went 
 true wounding and disabling when it did not 
 kill. And above all the rattle and roar of the 
 firing, above the clatter of the drums, keener 
 even than the sharp words of command, I heard 
 the dreadful cries, the horrible screams of the 
 wounded men. A poor Federal was stretched 
 out in front of me, and as I stepped over him
 
 302 |)e Ueba of tlje iftibi. 
 
 he caught me by the leg and shrieked: " Fin- 
 ish me! Put an end to me. I am choking 
 with a coal of fire ! " and showed me a fright- 
 ful wound where a ball had crashed through 
 him from breast to side. But I could not kill 
 him, and I pulled myself away from his grasp. 
 I was ramming down a fresh load into my 
 piece when there came an eddy of wind that 
 thinned the smoke so that I had a view of one 
 of the windows on the floor above. My 
 heart gave a great throb for in that window 
 I saw Count Robert, gun in hand, firing down 
 on our men! Over his shoulder, in another 
 moment, I saw Surto leaning forward and 
 handing him a fresh-loaded gun. 
 
 "Now," thought 1, "my time has come! 
 Monster, murderer of my father, it is my turn 
 now!" I levelled my gun at him and took 
 careful aim. He was fairly at the end of my 
 barrel, and my hand was on the trigger. But 
 I couldn't fire. A tremor came over me, and 
 the look that Adeline gave me as I parted 
 from her flashed before my eyes. I had prom- 
 ised her that I would not hurt her brother. I 
 lowered my gun! 
 
 . But I had made no promises about Surto. 
 He was fair game. But, try as I might, I 
 could not get a shot at him. The coward hid
 
 Ije Storming of tl)e King's daetle. 303 
 
 himself so well behind his master that all I 
 could see of him was his arm as. he reached 
 foward every moment or so to hand the fresh 
 pieces with which the Count kept up a steady 
 fire. 
 
 And while I stood watching for my chance 
 1 saw something so startling that I scarcely 
 could believe my eyes. While the Count 
 leaned forward, aiming, Surto's big hand came 
 in sight holding a pistol. In another instant 
 the muzzle of the pistol was close to the back 
 of his master's head. There was a flash and 
 Count Robert, his head blown to pieces, fell 
 forward across the window-ledge while a 
 stream of blood ran down the wall to the 
 ground. 
 
 1 was utterly bewildered. I pinched my- 
 self to make sure I was not dreaming. But it 
 was no dream. There was the Count's body 
 across the window-sill, his arms flopping 
 down outside. Of Surto I could see nothing. 
 He had fired his traitor shot and run away. 
 
 That was no place for stopping to think. 
 While I still was looking up at the window 
 there was the tremendous report of a cannon 
 loaded with grape, and I found myself nearly 
 blinded with smoke while all around me was 
 the sharp whistle of flying balls. Our men
 
 304 l) ftefos of tl)* JftiM. 
 
 were mowed down like grass. The ground 
 was strewn with dead and wounded. Our 
 line broke and we fell back toward the gate 
 while the Royalists set up a great cheering of 
 "Vive le Roi!" and "Vive la Reine!" 
 
 Captain Gamier, who had taken command 
 of the Battalion when our Commandant fell, 
 was the only one of us who stood firm. He 
 was clear grit, that man, and he showed his 
 grit then. He did not fall back a single step. 
 There in the whirling smoke, among the dead 
 and wounded, he stood alone. We saw him 
 wave his sword, and we heard him cry: "To 
 me, men of Marseilles !" 
 
 And then came another shout, but from our 
 rear. Our old gunner Peloux had not yet had 
 a chance to make his dogs bark, and it was his 
 voice that we heard. " Room for the guns! " 
 he shouted. "You call yourselves Marseilles 
 Patriots and back down before Parisian Aristo- 
 crats ! I'll teach you how to get rid of Anti- 
 Patriots. Let me get at them with these 
 bronze squirts of mine. Out of the way, all 
 of you ! Room for the guns ! " 
 
 The coolness of our Captain and our gun- 
 ner put us to shame. Our panic was ended 
 and we grew steady again. Some of us made 
 a clear path by dragging aside the dead and
 
 lje Storming of ttje King's astlc. 305 
 
 wounded, while others tailed-on to the ropes 
 or tugged at the wheels of the guns. In no 
 time we had them both, loaded as they were 
 to the muzzle with grape, planted right in 
 front of the great entrance to the Castle. 
 Through the thinning smoke we could see 
 clustered on the steps the grenadiers in their 
 hairy caps; and behind them, in the vestibule, 
 the red-coated Swiss were crowded like a 
 swarm of bees. They fired on us steadily. 
 The black entrance was bright with the flash 
 of their pieces. It was like the mouth of hell. 
 
 But Peloux paid no attention at all to the 
 balls that went whistling around him plough- 
 ing up the earth, knocking big splinters out of 
 the gun-carriages, making long silvery streaks 
 on the bronze guns. Without in the least 
 hurrying himself, he trained the muzzles of 
 both pieces straight toward the doorway, care- 
 fully primed them, and flourished his linstock 
 to bring it to a glow. In his easy-going, 
 devil-may-care way, when all was ready, he 
 mockingly took off his hat and bowed to the 
 Castle; and as he touched off his cannon he 
 cried mockingly, as though he had been 
 emptying slops out of a window: "Look out 
 below! " 
 
 Bang! went the first gun, spitting out
 
 306 STIje Bebs of t\)e Jttibi. 
 
 grape on the Swiss and grenadiers and cutting 
 a swath like a scythe-stroke in a clover-field ! It 
 was our turn to roar then, and we yelled 
 'Vive la Nation! " at the top of our lungs. 
 
 As the smoke cleared away a little we saw 
 our harvest of dead and wounded. The steps 
 were strewn with fallen men. The grenadiers 
 had broken and were crowding back into the 
 Castle upon the Swiss, while some of them 
 were squeezing down into the cellar-windows 
 or running toward the garden. 
 
 " Te ! " shouted Peloux. ' ' They don't like 
 the way our guns spit. Wait for the other 
 one! " He blew up his linstock, made another 
 mocking bow, and cried: "Look out behind, 
 gentlemen!" and so fired the second gun 
 through the doorway of the Castle right into 
 the thick of the crowd. Soldiers of all colours, 
 red, green, white and blue, fell dying in 
 heaps. 
 
 That time it was the Aristocrats who were 
 panic-struck. They stopped firing at us from 
 the doorway, and we had only the peppering 
 of shots from the windows above. Our drums, 
 which had stopped beating when we were 
 driven back, broke out loudly with the old 
 quick-step; Captain Gamier, rushing ahead 
 of us, shouted " Forward ! " ; and with lowered
 
 l)e Storming of tljc King's Castle. 307 
 
 bayonets we charged up the steps into the 
 Castle the hornet's nest, the snake's lair! 
 
 "Oh, the devil!" cried Margan, as he 
 plunged into the thick of it with his head 
 down, like a bull broken loose in the city 
 streets. "Now we're going to get pitch-forks 
 in our hides! " 
 
 And pockmarked Margan was right, so 
 we were! All the way up those stairs it was 
 nothing but sword points and bayonets. The 
 grenadiers and Swiss stood four men to a step, 
 giving us cut and thrust as we came on and 
 the .others higher up poured on us a steady 
 fire. At each step four men had to be got rid 
 of by bayonet, sword or pistol. 
 
 It was slow work. But with Captain Gar- 
 nier and Margan to set the pace there was no 
 balking. Vauclair was close up with them. 
 We all set our bayonets and pressed for- 
 ward. 
 
 Peloux, who made fun of everything, 
 pointed to the red coats of the Swiss mixed 
 in with the green coats of the Grenadiers and 
 called out: "Hello, boys, we're going to pick 
 tomatoes! Forward, all who like tomatoes ! " 
 and as he spoke, he let fly into the crowd 
 above us two grenades which went off with a 
 tremendous noise.
 
 308 |)e Eebe of tl)e fflibi. 
 
 That was the turning point of our fight on 
 the staircase. Through the blinding smoke 
 we could hear the crash of broken glass that 
 followed the bursting of the grenades, and then 
 the groans of the wounded. We surged for- 
 ward, yelling "Vive la Nation!," with such 
 a rush that the steps trembled under us. The 
 explosion, the shouts, the trembling of the 
 stones, made the Anti-Patriots believe that the 
 staircase was breaking down under them and 
 suddenly there was a rush and a crush and a 
 scamper that can not be told! 
 
 Some of the poor Swiss, losing their heads, 
 flung themselves down upon our bayonets or 
 jumped over the balusters and broke their 
 bones on the stone pavement below. They 
 no longer kept a steady front against us, and 
 upward we went spitting with our bayonets 
 and slinging behind us those of them who did 
 stand firm, and who cried in the very moment 
 they got their death-thrust "Vive le Roi!" 
 Vive la Reine!" As we killed them, these 
 men did not seem to weigh an ounce. We 
 stuck them through and tossed them behind 
 us as though we had been turning sheaves on 
 a threshing-floor. Margan was right, it was 
 pitchfork work indeed! 
 
 We got up almost to the first story; but It
 
 l)e Storming of the Hing's Castle. 309 
 
 seemed as if the more men we got rid of the 
 more sprang up before us. We were covered 
 with blood from our heads to our heels. Blood 
 was pouring down the staircase as though 
 hogsheads of wine had been stove-in above. 
 My wrists were strained and sore. My bayo- 
 net was bent by all the bones it had struck 
 against in breasts and thighs. 
 
 It was Peloux who cleared away the group 
 at the head of the stairway with a couple more 
 of his grenades. There was another tremen- 
 dous crash as the grenades exploded; and then 
 most of the Royalists left alive, and with legs 
 to carry them, scattered like a suddenly dis- 
 covered nest of rats and made off for the King's 
 apartment. 
 
 A few of them, seeing that fighting was 
 useless, surrendered; and some of these we 
 spared. The poor Swiss, who only were do- 
 ing their duty, were given their lives; and so 
 were the wretched National Guards the men 
 of the people, as we knew by their rough 
 shirts and hard hands, who were fighting us 
 against their will. But it was another mat- 
 ter with the sprigs of nobility, the counts and 
 marquises with their lace jabots and their silk- 
 tied queues. For them there was no mercy. 
 It was a knock on the head or a span of cold
 
 310 |)e Bebs of il]e ittiM. 
 
 steel in their breasts and then out of the win- 
 dow to Coblentz ! 
 
 Our catechism was a short one. "Ah, 
 you are one of the people. Good. Shout 
 'Vive la Nation!' Be a good Patriot. Go 
 your way! " Or it would be: "Ah, you wear 
 silk stockings and your hair is powdered. 
 Good. Swallow this plum! " and crack would 
 go a pistol-ball through his skull. 1 tell you 
 it was a good thing on that Tenth of August 
 to wear a coarse shirt and have rough hands ! 
 
 For two hours and more the good work 
 went on. We hunted everywhere: in pas- 
 sages and in parlours, in big rooms and in 
 little rooms; in garrets and in lofts. And 
 everywhere we found people hidden away so 
 frightened that they didn't dare to call their 
 souls their own. We routed them out from 
 closets, from on top of wardrobes, from under 
 beds; we dragged them down from chimneys; 
 we caught them stowed away in the rafters 
 under the tiles; we chased them over the 
 roof. 
 
 At last, when we thought we had cleared 
 out the whole place, we came to a landing be- 
 tween two stairways where an Aristo was 
 standing guard before a bolted door. He was 
 a brave fellow, that Aristo. " Halt," he cried.
 
 (Elie Storming of tl)e Hint's (Eastle. 3 11 
 
 "You can't enter here!" and he cracked off 
 his pistol and the ball cut through Margan's 
 cap and just shaved his skull. Yet it was 
 Margan who saved his life for him. The rest 
 of us would have finished him in no time ; but 
 Margan stood by him and we let him go 
 although the pig-head could not be made to 
 cry " Vive la Nation! " at any price at all! 
 
 We bounced him down stairs, and as we 
 burst the door open there were cries and screams 
 from within. In the room we found three grand 
 court ladies, and a younger lady as lovely as 
 the day, all dressed in silks and laces. The 
 oldest of them called to us to save from death 
 her niece, meaning the beautiful young lady, 
 and said that if any one must die it should be 
 herself and as she spoke she went down on 
 her knees before us and bared her breast to 
 our swords. 
 
 Her devotion moved us and filled us with 
 wonder. Captain Gamier made short work of 
 the matter. He caught the lady's hand and 
 pulled her to her feet, saying: "Get up, 
 hussy! The nation has no need for your life" 
 and then he detailed four men to escort 
 the women to some place where they would 
 be safe. 
 
 Those, certainly, were the last of the traitor
 
 312 |]e Hefca of tlje ittibi. 
 
 Aristos left in the Castle. It was midday, and 
 the fight was at an end. There was not a 
 whole pane of glass left in the windows. 
 Everywhere the doors which we had burst in 
 were lying flat or hanging crazily on their 
 broken hinges. The furniture was tossed and 
 tumbled everywhere. The carpets, the walls, 
 the hangings, were splashed with blood. Dead 
 men were lying around everywhere on the 
 floors. In one of the front rooms I saw the 
 body of Count Robert still hanging across the 
 window-ledge, just as he fell at Surto's trai- 
 tor shot. 
 
 We entered the King's apartment, all hung 
 with white and blue. " See, that's his por- 
 trait up there! " said Margan and in a moment 
 he had snatched it off the wall and flung it on 
 the floor. We joined hands and danced a faran- 
 dole around it, each of us as we passed spitting 
 on the tyrant's face, and all of us roaring out 
 
 Dansons la Carmagnole, 
 Vive le son du canon ! 
 
 Since our supper of the night before not 
 one of us had had bite or sup. Yet we went 
 on as though we were drunk, hugging and 
 kissing the brave Federals of Brest and the 
 Patriots from the Faubourg de Gloire and
 
 Storming of ttye King's (Hastie. 313 
 
 dragging them into our farandole. And so, 
 farandoling, we all went on into the apartment 
 of the Queen. 
 
 There all was gold and silk, and. mirrors 
 covering the walls to the very ceiling, and 
 pictures to take your breath away, and curtains 
 and laces, and carpets as soft as down. And 
 all had a sweet delightful smell. Margan 
 caught hold of the bed and dragged it into the 
 middle of the room; and as he tumbled and 
 rolled on it we took up our crazy round again 
 and danced about him singing the worst thing 
 we could think of to sing: 
 
 Fai, fai, fai te lou tegne blu, panturlo! 
 Fai, fai, fai te lou tegne blu! 
 
 It was while I was in the midst of this 
 dance that 1 suddenly fell to wondering what 
 had become of Vauclair. Could he be wounded, 
 I thought, or dead! The thought made me 
 shiver. I dropped from the round and ran 
 searching for him through the rooms stopping 
 now and then to turn over a dead man, lying 
 face downward on the floor, to make sure that 
 it was not my friend. I looked out from the 
 windows upon the courts, the terraces, the 
 gardens. I saw National Guards in plenty, 
 crowds of Patriots, some even of our own
 
 of tle illibi. 
 
 men. They were helping the wounded or 
 they were hugging each other and crying and 
 laughing. But I did not see Vauclair. 
 
 But from one of the windows, looking 
 down upon a corner of the gardens cut off 
 from the rest by a thick hedge of laurel, I did 
 see a very strange and dreadful sight. There 
 was" old Planchot, drawn close against the 
 wall, standing straight up and watching a 
 cellar-window as a cat watches a rat hole. 
 Some poor Swiss, who had taken refuge in the 
 cellar when they saw how all had gone wrong, 
 were trying to get out by the window and so 
 give their legs a chance to save their skins. 
 Poor wretches ! As soon as one of them stuck 
 out his head crack! Planchot's axe split his 
 skull! And then Planchot's hands dragged 
 him out and laid him on one side. The game 
 evidently had been going on for some time, 
 for there was a ghastly heap of bodies; and in 
 the midst of all this carnage Planchot was fairly 
 chuckling with delight. It was a sight so 
 frightful that it made my blood run cold. 
 
 While I stood watching him, rny eyes held 
 fast by horror, I saw another sight that, while 
 not so dreadful, was still more strange. There 
 stepped out from behind the laurel hedge a big 
 man, wearing the uniform of the National
 
 l)e Storming of tlje King's Castle. 315 
 
 Guard, who went straight up to Planchot and 
 spoke to him. For a moment I felt dazed and 
 everything whirled around me; for the big 
 man there could be no mistake about it was 
 Surto; and to see Surto in that dress, and talk- 
 ing that way to Planchot, seemed to me to see 
 about the most impossible thing in the world! 
 
 But my wits did not stay long wool-gather- 
 ing. "Oh you miserable dog! Oh you mur- 
 derer!" I cried, "I've got you at last!" And 
 I sprang back from the window and rushed 
 down the stairway four steps at a time, pistol 
 in hand. 
 
 Half way down I plumped into a man 
 coming up. It was Vauclair, who was look- 
 ing for me as I had been looking for him. 
 "Hello, Pascalet ! " said he, "what's the mat- 
 ter ? Where are you bound in such a hurry ? 
 You look as wild-eyed as if you had seen a 
 ghost! " 
 
 I did not let him stop me. "Come along! 
 Come along ! " I shouted back. ' ' Surto's down 
 there with Planchot. I'm going to kill him 
 like a mad dog! " 
 
 Vauclair turned and came tearing down 
 after me, and followed me through rooms and 
 passages until we got out of doors. We ran 
 round the Castle, and presently I found the
 
 316 be Bebs of tl)* illiM. 
 
 place that I was looking for. There was the 
 laurel hedge ; there were the dead Swiss lying 
 in a pile as Planchot had thrown them but as 
 for Planchot and Surto, they had vanished like 
 smoke! 
 
 I was wild, crazy, my eyes were starting 
 out of my head, in the same breath I wept and 
 cursed with rage. Vauclair looked at me 
 queerly, and then with a kind touch laid his 
 hand on my arm. "Come, come, Pascalet," 
 he said, "your eyes have played a trick on 
 you. You are weak for want of food and 
 your wits are not steady. The boys are wait- 
 ing for us. There, don't you hear the drums 
 beating the recall ? Come! " 
 
 I let him lead me away, but 1 knew that 
 my eyes had not played a trick on me and that 
 my wits were all right. There was the laurel 
 hedge ; there was the cellar-window ; up above 
 was the window out of which I had seen 
 Planchot and Surto as plainly as ever I saw 
 anybody in my life. As we walked away I 
 kept looking back over my shoulder in the 
 hope that Surto might show again, but the 
 place was bare. 
 
 The men of the Faubourg Saint-Marceau 
 were assembling in the Gardens, and the men 
 of the Faubourg de Gloire in the Place du
 
 l)e Storming of Ifye King's Castle. 317 
 
 Carrousel. We followed the call of our own 
 drums to the Cour Royale. There we found 
 Captain Gamier, a bloody handkerchief wrapped 
 round his hand, getting the Battalion into line, 
 and Vauclair and I fell in. Our men were 
 shaking hands over their good luck in coming 
 through the fight alive, and telling each other 
 what they had done in it, and sorrowing over 
 the wounded and dead. 
 
 At the first calling of the roll only two hun- 
 dred of us answered to our names; but strag- 
 glers came in every moment to fill some of the 
 vacant places in the ranks. Many of our men 
 had been detailed to take prisoners to the Na- 
 tional Assembly, and others had gone there of 
 their own accord to deposit valuables which 
 they had found. When I met Vauclair on the 
 stairs he had just come back from taking to 
 the Assembly a purse full of gold louis d'ors 
 which he had found on the floor of the King's 
 apartment. Others had taken jewels left scat- 
 tered on the carpets or lying on the smashed 
 furniture. Tears of joy rolled down our cheeks 
 as each new man took his place in the ranks. 
 
 When some time had passed without the 
 return of more of our comrades, Captain Gar- 
 nier again called the roll slowly, company by 
 company. When a name was called to which
 
 3i 8 l)e ftefcs of tl)e ittibi. 
 
 there was no answer the drums rolled mourn- 
 fully and that meant: " He died for Liberty! " 
 Two hundred out of five hundred men were 
 missing. As we found later, twenty of these 
 were dead, and one hundred and eighty 
 wounded. 
 
 While this sad roll-call went on the National 
 Guards had brought biers and were carrying 
 off the dead bodies scattered everywhere in 
 the courts and gardens and inside the Castle. 
 They lifted up poor Samat from the place 
 against the wall to which I had dragged him 
 in the morning, and as they brought him 
 toward us the Battalion presented arms. Sobs 
 choked us and tears blinded us. In a moment 
 we had broken ranks and had surrounded our 
 poor dead comrade, crying like children. Each 
 one of us in turn kissed the poor cold hand 
 hanging from the bier : that Patriot hand that 
 for two hundred leagues had carried, as though 
 it had been the Host, the Declaration of the 
 Rights of Man. 
 
 As we fell back into line and stood ready 
 to march I felt something warm, like a little 
 stream of warm water, trickling down into my 
 shoe; and for a moment I felt sick and faint 
 and a flash of lightning seemed to pass before 
 my eyes. I looked down to see what was
 
 l)e Storming of tl)e King's Castle. 319 
 
 happening to my foot and what it was that 
 felt warm and, behold ! it was my own blood 
 dropping down in big drops like great red cur- 
 rants from my little finger! How queer it 
 was! I did not in the least remember being 
 wounded. I couldn't help calling out: "See! 
 See! The first joint of my little finger has 
 been shot away! " 
 
 I was so delighted to think that I really had 
 been wounded in the fight that I jumped up and 
 down with joy just as a cat does when she 
 feels the weather is going to change. "I'm 
 wounded, I'm wounded, too! Vive la Na- 
 tion!" I cried and I held up my bleeding 
 stump so that everybody could see I'd been 
 hit. Our men all burst out laughing at me, 
 and at my joy that the tip of one of my fingers 
 had been shot off. 
 
 But what was queerer than my having 
 been hit without knowing it was that as soon 
 as I did know it my finger began to throb and 
 smart with pain. But I did with it what I had 
 been used to do when I smashed my paws in 
 cracking almonds I put it into my mouth and 
 sucked it ; and so, feeling like a hero and look- 
 ing like a finger-sucking baby, off I marched 
 with the Battalion to the barracks. 
 
 Our work was over and we were free to 
 
 22
 
 320 l)e ftebs of tl)e ittibi. 
 
 rest ourselves and have a good time. Away 
 we marched, our men singing the holy chant 
 of Liberty : 
 
 Aliens enfants de la Patrie, 
 Le jour de gloire est arrive! 
 
 But I couldn't sing because I had my finger in 
 my mouth ! I could only comfort myself by see- 
 ing all along the Rue Saint-Honore the proof of 
 how the Paris people had changed their tune. In 
 that very street, the night before, they had fired 
 at us from the windows and stoned us from the 
 roofs; and as we marched back by daylight 
 the same windows and roofs were crowded 
 with men, women and children welcoming us 
 with shouts of " Vive les Marseillais! " 
 
 Oh, but it was fun to see the fat shopmen 
 bowing and scraping to us in their doorways 
 and to hear them cheering us while they sent 
 painters scampering up long ladders to daub 
 out in a hurry the fleur-de-lys, and the Royal 
 arms, and all the Anti-Patriot stuff they had 
 stuck on their signs! Out came "Vive le 
 Roi!" and "Vive la Reine!" and "Devil take 
 the Nation! " and in their place came " Down 
 with the tyrant! " and " Vive la Nation! " and 
 " Vive les Marseillais! " 
 
 As we came to the Arcade Saint-Jean the 
 crowd grew so thick in front of us that we
 
 l)e Storming of ttje King's Castle. 321 
 
 scarcely could make our way through it; and 
 then we found that it was dammed up against 
 the section of the National Guard of Paris com- 
 manded by the famous Santerre. There, in that 
 place so far away from the King's Castle, we 
 found that Santerre's precious National Guard 
 had spent all the night and all the morning 
 ready to join the winning side as soon as they 
 knew which it was ! There they waited, ready 
 to greet us with open arms or to fall on us and 
 kill us for rebels, just as our luck at the Castle 
 should decide. And as luck had been with us 
 as they knew that the Castle was in ruins 
 and the throne upset and the King the people's 
 prisoner they stuck their hats on their bay- 
 onets and came toward us shouting with the 
 crowd : ' ' Vive les Marseillais ! " 
 
 But we weren't exactly idiots, and we said 
 to ourselves: ''These Parisians are a nice lot 
 we opened the door, and now they want to 
 push in ahead of us and be greater Revolu- 
 tionists than we! Prudent Monsieur Santerre, 
 who always had a thorn in his foot when we 
 wanted him to go ahead with us, now wants 
 to get in front of the whole procession ! To- 
 morrow it will be Santerre who has thrown 
 down the tyrant and saved the country all by 
 himself!" And in our thoughts we added:
 
 322 l)e Hebs of tl)e Xttibi. 
 
 " If only he doesn't go and spoil all we have 
 begun so well! " 
 
 Already the jackals were at work. Crowds 
 of pilfering good-for-nothings, ragged scamps, 
 drunken and dishevelled women, even Na- 
 tional Guards, were robbing the houses and 
 churches and palaces. And the tigers were at 
 work, too. We met strings of people getting 
 hauled along to prison tied fast like thieves 
 priests, nobles, honest middle-class folk, all 
 half-dead with fear. The only charge against 
 them was that they were Anti-Patriots; or, if 
 not quite Anti- Patriots, that they were so far 
 behind the times as still to have some respect 
 left for their King and their Queen. We, the 
 Reds of the Midi who had been cried out at 
 for brigands, for galley-slaves escaped from 
 Toulon would have thought it quite enough 
 to have made them shout "Vive la Nation!" 
 and then go their ways. But these Parisians 
 who had shirked the real fighting, who had 
 let us all by ourselves save the country and 
 The Rights of Man, felt that they must draw 
 blood from the Aristocrats in order to wash out 
 their shame. By the time that we reached our 
 barracks, that is to say by the middle of the 
 afternoon, all of the Paris prisons were full of 
 Aristocrats or of poor wretches who were
 
 (Jlje Storming of tlje King's Castle. 323 
 
 taken for Aristocrats. We had believed that 
 we were opening the gates for Liberty to enter 
 in and possess the land; and, behold! we had 
 let loose the foxes of rapine and the wolves 
 of revenge and the scorpions of hate! I, who 
 was then but a boy, saw it all only too well. 
 
 When we got to our barracks we had all 
 the bread and wine that we wanted, and we 
 just stuffed till we were packed full. And as 
 I still had by me two heads of garlic I made 
 the best meal of them all. Good-hearted Mar- 
 gan had tied up my finger, with a bit of ama- 
 dou that stopped the bleeding, and 1 was all 
 right after my first swallow of wine. 
 
 Vauclair and I kept looking at each other 
 while we were eating; and I knew that he 
 was thinking, just as I was, how glad Lazuli 
 and Adeline and Clairet would be to see us safe 
 and sound. Before we had fairly finished he 
 said to me: "Well, Pascalet, you know who 
 wants to see us. How do you feel about go- 
 ing home? " 
 
 How did I feel ? The words were barely 
 out of his mouth before I had given a last kiss 
 to my bottle, wiped my lips on my sleeve, 
 clacked my tongue, and stood up ready to 
 start! 
 
 All the way from our barracks to the Im-
 
 324 t)e &efcs of tlje JttiM. 
 
 passe Guemenee we had to push our way 
 through a yelling, frightful crowd. The streets 
 were full of people half drunk or half crazy, all 
 flourishing swords and pikes and all screaming 
 and shouting. But our uniform made us sure 
 of a welcome everywhere as we went along. 
 The very people who the day before had 
 stabbed us with looks of hate were the first to 
 cry " Vive les Marseillais! " 
 
 At last we reached Planchot's door, and 
 Planchot's wife and Lazuli and Adeline and 
 Clairet were all there ready to open to our knock 
 and call. Vauclair and Lazuli threw themselves 
 into each other's arms; I caught Adeline to me 
 and kissed her as though she had been my sis- 
 ter; and little Clairet hugged away at his fath- 
 er's leg. 
 
 But there was no Planchot to greet Jane- 
 toun. When she found that he was not with 
 us she covered her face with her apron and burst 
 forth into lamentations and sobs and groans. 
 "They have killed my Planchot!" she cried. 
 " 1 ought never to have let him go. Who will 
 give me back my Planchot?" And down she 
 fell on the bench and then rolled off and lay 
 among the shavings on the floor. To tell the 
 truth, we all were so much taken up with our 
 own affairs that we paid no attention to her.
 
 Storming of tlje fung'0 Castle. 325 
 
 And it did not matter; for while we still were 
 kissing each other the door flew open and 
 Planchot came in. He was frightful to behold. 
 He held his bloody axe in his hand, and was 
 so covered with blood from head to foot that 
 at first his wife did not know him. Not until 
 she had taken a long look at him did she 
 scream out: " It is indeed my Planchot! " But 
 she did not venture to touch him. " What has 
 happened to you ? Where are you wounded ? 
 Has some one killed a pig and tumbled you 
 into the tub of blood ? " 
 
 " I am not wounded anywhere," Planchot 
 answered; "but my wrist is a good deal 
 strained. That axe, just as you see it there, 
 has cracked the skulls of seventeen Aristos. 
 Yes, I, Planchot, I all by myself made a heap 
 of dead bodies that I believe would fill up this 
 room! And afterward, with the help of a 
 good Patriot who joined himself to me, I was 
 able to catch and to deliver over to the people 
 all the nobles and Anti-Patriots here in our 
 Quarter. It is only a moment since I gave up 
 the last one, a noble in the Rue des Douze 
 Portes, the Marquis of of - Devil take his 
 name, it makes no difference what it was. Oh 
 there will be plenty of heads for our holy guil- 
 lotines!"
 
 326 iftlje Ecbs of 
 
 "Oh Blessed Mary help!" cried Adeline; 
 and as she spoke she fell back pale as death. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Planchot! " cried Vau- 
 clair. " Don't you see you are frightening that 
 child out of her wits ? " 
 
 Planchot's wife had thrown her apron over 
 her head again and was rocking back and forth 
 saying: "Oh, it can't be possible! It can't 
 be possible! It can't be my man who has 
 done such things! " 
 
 Planchot was delighted with having so ter- 
 rified his wife; but as he wiped his bloody 
 hands with shavings he said, gently: "Yes, 
 the poor little girl is faint. If I had known it 
 would hurt her I wouldn't have said a word. 
 Get some orange-flower water, wife. She'll 
 soon come to." 
 
 Janetoun and Lazuli and I, together, carried 
 Adeline up stairs and laid her on Lazuli's bed; 
 for that very morning her own had gone off 
 with the rest of the guillotines. When we 
 had left the room, as Vauclair told me after- 
 ward, Planchot went on: " It's really too bad 
 about her, poor child! But how could I know 
 that what I was saying would upset her so ? It's 
 lucky I didn't tell about the horrible big woman 
 who wanted to bleed the little Marquis with 
 her pig-sticking knife. I stopped that game,
 
 QLtye Storming of tt)e fiing's Castle. 327 
 
 however. We must draw the line somewhere, 
 and I wouldn't let her do it the dirty jade! " 
 
 "A big woman with a pig-sticking knife," 
 broke in Vauclair. "What was her name, 
 Planchot ? Was it La Jacarasse ? " 
 
 "Why yes, La Jacarasse. That was the 
 name, sure enough," Planchot answered. 
 
 "Then shame to you, miserable man that 
 you are! " cried Vauclair. "It must have been 
 the Marquis d'Ambrun that you delivered up. 
 And as to that famous Patriot who was help- 
 ing you, he is the servant of the Marquis a 
 murderous dog of a German who only this 
 morning was fighting against us at the King's 
 Castle no Patriot at all. He is the lover of 
 the Marquise, and he has betrayed his master 
 to death so that he may steal safely his wealth 
 as well as his wife. Is it possible that you, 
 Planchot, honest Planchot, Planchot la Liberte 
 as the Companions call you can it be that you 
 have lent a helping hand to that Anti-Patriot 
 hound ? " 
 
 Planchot frowned and shook his head in 
 answer to all this abuse; but all that he said in 
 reply to it was: " Are you sure that what you 
 tell me is true ?" 
 
 " I am as sure that it is true," Vauclair an- 
 swered, "as I am sure that I have on my hand
 
 328 t)e ftebs of tl)e HUM. 
 
 four fingers and a thumb. Pascalet can prove 
 it to you, for this German, this fellow Surto, 
 twice has tried to kill him. And 1 must tell 
 you another thing, Planchot it is no time for 
 concealments, now, and you shall know the 
 whole truth. Adeline, the dear good girl 
 who is with us, is not our child: she is the 
 unhappy daughter of this very Marquis d'Am- 
 brun. We saved her out of the clutches 
 of La Jacarasse. Her own mother and Surto 
 had given her to that beast of a woman to do 
 anything with they did not care what that 
 would put her out of the way. What do you 
 think of that, Planchot ?" 
 
 "What do I think?" cried Planchot, sput- 
 tering with anger as he picked up his axe. 
 " Why, I think I have done just what I ought 
 to have done. And I don't see why I shouldn't 
 crack your head open with my axe now that 
 I know how you have tricked me into having 
 an Aristocrat's daughter in my house! " 
 
 "And I," answered Vauclair, as he stuck 
 the muzzle of his pistol between Planchot's 
 eyes, "would blow your brains out did I not 
 know that you would come with me and with 
 Pascalet to rescue the Marquis d'Ambrun, and to 
 deliver up in his place Surto the murderer and 
 the abominable Jacarasse."
 
 Storming of llje tiing's (totle. 3 2 9 
 
 Planchot had plumped down on the shav- 
 ings when he saw the pistol levelled at him, 
 but Vauclair kept it pointed straight at his 
 face. Trembling with fear he answered: 
 "Don't point that thing at me. I will do 
 whatever you please. But it's too late now to 
 rescue the Marquis. Paris is full of prisons 
 and how can we ever find the one that he's in ? 
 And there's nobody in the house any longer. 
 The German if he is a German and La 
 Jacarasse, and another woman who said she 
 was the German's wife it must have been the 
 Marquise, I suppose were clearing everything 
 out of it while we were tying the Marquis to 
 take him off; and when we left they left, too. 
 How are we ever going to find them, either, I 
 should like to know ? 1 tell you the track's lost. " 
 
 "All this is worse and worse," said Vau- 
 clair. "You say yourself that you saw them 
 ransacking the house and carrying off the valu- 
 ables. Why, surely, that must have opened 
 your eyes ? Is it possible that a Patriot like 
 Planchot could have had a hand in such doings ? 
 What, Planchot, my old master Planchot, a 
 robber! " 
 
 That word robber was too much for Plan- 
 chot. His axe fell from his hand and his eyes 
 filled with tears. "Forgive me, Vauclair," he
 
 33 b* ft*&s 0f tl)e 
 
 said; "and don't say a word about what has 
 happened before my wife. I am a wicked 
 wretch. I neither thought nor reasoned. What 
 can I do to set things right ? " 
 
 "You can help Adeline to find her father 
 again, and to get back again what you helped 
 Surto and La Jacarasse to steal." 
 
 "So I will," Planchot answered. "You 
 are entirely right in the whole matter, Vauclair. 
 What could I have been thinking of? I, Planchot 
 la Liberte ; I, who never wronged any one of so 
 much as a sou, am to-day no better than a 
 robber. To-night, to-morrow, the day after 
 to-morrow, as long as I have breath in my 
 body, I will work to clean away this black 
 spot from my name. I swear to you, Vau- 
 clair, that I will search all Paris, house by 
 house, to find Adeline's father alive or dead 
 and to find those robbers, Surto and his harlot 
 marquise and La Jacarasse." 
 
 At seeing his old master so broken down 
 by shame and sorrow Vauclair was almost as 
 much moved as Planchot was himself. When 
 I came down stairs I found them hugging each 
 other with tears in their eyes. 
 
 And then we held a sort of council of war 
 together and settled on what we were to do 
 and how it best might be done.
 
 l)e Storming of tlje King's ffiastle. 331 
 
 From that day on the three of us had but 
 one hope and one aim: to find for Adeline, 
 who lay almost dying of grief and horror, her 
 father and at the same time to find and to 
 punish the three robbers who had stolen her 
 heritage. 
 
 I will not try to tell you the whole long story 
 of how day after day we tramped over Paris on 
 our search; often starting out before daylight 
 and hunting until night. We divided the city 
 among us, and each of the three hunted through 
 his own part street by street; asking such 
 questions as we dared to ask, listening for bits 
 of talk that might put us on the scent, looking 
 always for the lair of the three murderers and 
 for the prison in which the old Marquis was 
 shut up waiting for his death. We would get 
 back home at night tired out, more dead than 
 alive; and then we would have to make up a 
 story full of big lies to comfort poor Adeline. 
 
 Fortunately, Adeline only knew that her 
 father had been cast into prison. She did not 
 know that Surto had murdered her brother, 
 and she thought that her mother still lived in 
 the house in the Rue des Douze Fortes and 
 waited in sorrow for her to be found and 
 brought home. We let her keep on believing 
 this, and every night we promised her that
 
 33 2 lK &efos of 
 
 the next morning we would take her to her 
 mother. When the morning came we would 
 find a reason for keeping her with us for yet 
 another day. As the time passed, and hope 
 seemed to have forgotten her, she grew thinner 
 and still more pale. 
 
 But in spite of the pain that it gave me to 
 see her sorrow, and in spite of my dread of the 
 day when she would have to know all and 
 might fall dead of grief and horror, I loved the 
 time that I spent with her in Planchot's little 
 house in the Impasse Guemenee. Each night 
 at supper she waited on me and cut up my 
 bread; but before supper, and that was most 
 delightful of all, she cared for my wounded 
 hand. Very gently she would unwrap the 
 bandage and put on fresh lint. her delicate 
 hands touching me with a touch as soft as if 
 she had on silk gloves. As she bent forward 
 to wrap the bandage I would see the curve of 
 her slender neck, and her lovely hair would come 
 close to my lips. Then she would take a big 
 handkerchief and fold it into a sling, and in 
 order to tie the sling properly she would have 
 to put her arms around my neck as though she 
 were going to embrace me. Her sweet mouth 
 would be just in front of my mouth, while her 
 frank gentle eyes looking straight into mine
 
 Storming of tlje King's Castle. 333 
 
 would make my eyelids fall. Sometimes her 
 loose curling hair would brush my cheek; and 
 as I felt its soft play, and still more as I felt the 
 sweet weight of her arms on my shoulders, 
 thrills of exquisite delight would run through 
 me which 1 never tried to explain, but only 
 enjoyed. 
 
 For days this troubled and weary life, that 
 yet had in it for me so much happiness, went 
 on and on. We found nothing that could put 
 us on the track of the wretches we sought; 
 we found no trace of the poor old Marquis; 
 we had no news to give Adeline that would 
 at all quiet and comfort her. We saw that 
 soon we would have to tell her the whole 
 truth. 
 
 At last the time for truth-telling came. It 
 could be put off no longer for the Marseilles 
 Battalion was to be paid-off and discharged. 
 The work that we had come to do was done, 
 and well done. Pay for the time we had 
 served in Paris had been voted to us by the 
 National Assembly, and when that pay was in 
 our pockets all would be over with the Battal- 
 ion and we would be free to go back again 
 into the South. 
 
 On the eve of the pay-day we held a whis- 
 pered council in Planchot's shop, and there the
 
 334 tK fte&s of ttje 
 
 matter was settled. It was decided that while 
 Vauclair and I went to get our money the 
 women should tell poor Adeline everything, 
 and should make her understand that the 
 best and only safe thing for her to do was to 
 go back with us to Avignon and share our 
 bread until better times should come. 
 
 I left the house very early in the morning 
 that I might certainly be out of the way when 
 Adeline's cry of pain should break forth. Only 
 to think of it broke my heart. 
 
 I was at the barracks before Vauclair had 
 left the Impasse Guemenee; and the sun was 
 just gilding the eaves of the houses as I fell in 
 with Margan and Peloux and a half dozen other 
 gay Federals all of whom, as soon as they saw 
 me, held up their pouches and jingled the seven 
 crowns they had just received. 
 
 "Hurry up, kid!" cried Margan. "Make 
 your grab, and then come along with us. 
 We're off for a good time. We mean to see 
 some of the sights of this big village before we 
 leave it for good! " 
 
 They took me to a corner of the barracks 
 where I found a sergeant of the Battalion, and 
 with him a paymaster who tinkled seven silver 
 crowns into each Federal's hand. I got into 
 the line, and presently I too was paid; and
 
 Storming of tt)e King's Castle. 335 
 
 when I saw those seven silver quoits which 
 slid about among my fingers like eels as I tried 
 holding them first in one hand and then in 
 both I did not know what to think of myself 
 nor where to put my riches. But Margan, 
 who was in a hurry to start off for his good 
 time, slipped my money into my pocket for 
 me; and then, as he caught me under the arm, 
 he called out: " Forward, march! Now we'll 
 set sail and cut up high ! " and off we all 
 went together, arm in arm and taking up the 
 whole width of the street. 
 
 At the first cabaret with a red cap over the 
 door we went in and called for brandied grapes 
 which set us to cackling away like so many 
 hens after egg-laying as we walked along. 
 We hadn't the least notion where we were 
 going, but that made no difference at all. The 
 next tavern we came to, in we all went and 
 had two or three glasses all around of some 
 fiery stuff. Then we cocked our caps over our 
 ears and off we went again. Everywhere the 
 Parisians, at sight of our uniform, made way 
 for us. Since the Tenth of August they had 
 taken good care when they saw a Marseillais 
 coming to make room for him by standing 
 with their backs against the wall! 
 
 We crossed the river and went through the 
 23
 
 33 6 b* fts&s of tl) iflibi. 
 
 Place du Carrousel, and as we passed the ty- 
 rant's Castle we roared out together: 
 
 Tremblez, tyrans, et vous perfides! 
 
 But for all that I was having such a good 
 time, every now and then the thought of Ade- 
 line in her trouble would come back to me and 
 give a sharp tug at my heart. 
 
 Presently we came to another tavern, over 
 the door of which was the sign: "A la galere 
 d' Avignon." 
 
 "This is the place we've been looking 
 for!" shouted Margan. "We'll go right in. 
 Here we can get wine from the Crau, and 
 black olives, and cod-fish fried in olive-oil from 
 Aix." 
 
 We were all sharp set by that time, and in 
 we crowded in a bunch. 
 
 Getting in there was like getting home. 
 The hostess was a jolly girl from Aramon who 
 had been carried off to Paris by one of the 
 King's salt-tax collectors. She made us wel- 
 come with a will, setting out good strong wine 
 with white bread and a pot of olives to stay 
 our stomachs until the fricassee should be 
 ready, and all the while chattering away to us 
 in Provencal. In a twinkling we had bolted 
 the wine and bread and olives and had called
 
 l)e Storming of tlje King's OTastlc. 337 
 
 for more, and while we were eating the second 
 round there came to us from the kitchen a de- 
 lightful tasty smell as the oil bubbled and 
 snapped in the pan. At last in came our host- 
 ess, her cheeks as red as tomatoes, carrying a 
 great dish of cod-fish as yellow as gold. The 
 pieces were at least two inches thick, and as 
 the knife touched them they fell apart in flakes 
 like flints. With a dash of vinegar it was all 
 that a man could desire! 
 
 Peloux, to be sure, said that perhaps it was 
 a little too salt. But Margan took him up 
 short. "Salt's all right," said he. " It's good 
 for cuts, and it makes a body dry." 
 
 That salt cod-fish did make us dry! We 
 poured down glass after glass of red wine 
 from the Crau, and after that of white wine 
 from Sainte Cecile. Then we took to strong 
 brandy and quince cordial; and we ended off 
 by drinking all the home-made cordials that 
 the Aramon girl had in her house. 
 
 While we were sitting there, filling our- 
 selves up like hogsheads, carts full of Aristo- 
 crats began to go rumbling by on their way 
 to Versailles, somebody said, because the 
 prisons of Paris were jammed full. A howling 
 crowd of men and women and children sur- 
 rounded the carts, shaking their fists at the pris-
 
 338 t)e Hebe of tl)e 
 
 oners and throwing mud at them. At sight 
 of all this we paid our bill in a hurry; and out 
 we went again, arm in arm, to see what was 
 going on. 
 
 Behind the carts came another sort of pro- 
 cession. At the head of it was a woman beat- 
 ing a drum, hitting the case much oftener than 
 she did the drumhead; then came another 
 woman, wearing a red cap and carrying a head 
 stuck on a pike, and then a crowd of sans- 
 culottes shouting the "a ira." 
 
 We turned to go with the crowd; but 
 when I saw that the head on the pike was 
 that of a fair-haired woman, young and beauti- 
 ful, everything suddenly seemed to go whirling 
 around. I remembered my Adeline left un- 
 guarded what if anything should happen to 
 her! Peloux and the rest had joined in the 
 "a ira," and to hide my feelings I tried to 
 sing too. But I couldn't. I burst into tears 
 and scarcely could get along. 
 
 Margan was the first to see that there was 
 anything wrong with me. ''Dear! Dear!" 
 said he. "The kid's crying. His drink makes 
 him dismal." And then, by way of comfort- 
 ing me, I suppose, he and Peloux caught me 
 under the arms and began to jump me up and 
 down to the tune of the "a ira."
 
 Storming of tl)e King's Castle. 339 
 
 We came out on an open space on one side 
 of which was a high tower. Here the crowd 
 began to dance about, yelling; while the more 
 furious shook their fists at the grated windows 
 for inside that tower the King and his family 
 were prisoners. The woman carrying the 
 head on the pike it was the head of the Prin- 
 cesse de Lamballe, I heard the people around 
 me in the crowd saying took it close up to 
 the tower and held it as high as she could 
 reach toward the window, while she screamed 
 out: "Come down, you wretched old black- 
 guard of a Capet and kiss this jade. And tell 
 your Austrian that her head will grin on a pike 
 to-morrow as this one grins to-day!" And 
 then the hag suddenly lowered her pike and 
 smeared a handful of mud over the poor pretty 
 dead woman's face. 
 
 But what was still worse, just then another 
 brute of a woman went close to the window 
 and held up before it the Princesse de Lam- 
 balle's still bleeding heart. 
 
 Even Peloux, who never was shocked at 
 anything, couldn't stand that. But he didn't 
 like to own up to what was the matter, and so 
 he made an excuse. " See here, Margan," he 
 said, " my throat's as dry as tinder. Let's go 
 somewhere where I can wet it."
 
 340 l)e Hefcs of Uje HUM. 
 
 " All right," we answered in a breath, glad 
 enough to get away; and then in we trooped 
 to a tavern called the " Revolution " where we 
 kissed a good many more glasses of red wine 
 and white. As night came on, and we got 
 hungry again, we had a grand crespeu for sup- 
 per; and then, while we went on drinking, 
 Margan sang us a song of his own that he 
 had composed in French, he said, on purpose 
 to make the Parisians stare. And they did stare, 
 I can tell you! Off he went with the first two 
 verses, telling how the Aristocrats came forth 
 from their villages in all their finery to save their 
 King and Queen : 
 
 Quand je partions de nos villages 
 
 J'etions fringants, 
 J'etions vetus de pied en cape 
 
 Comme galants. 
 
 Je portions des chapeaux de paille 
 
 Large et pointus 
 Avecque des coucardes noires 
 
 De papier blu! 
 
 How the Parisians did clap and stamp and 
 shout! But when Majgan came to his last 
 verse, in which he told how the Marseilles men 
 were too much for the Aristocrats, they made 
 him sing it over and over again!
 
 Storming 0f tlje Eing's (JIastle. 341 
 
 Pour aparer le roi, la reine 
 
 J'etions venus, 
 Mais le bataioun de Marseille 
 
 Nous a battus! 
 
 As for me, my poor head was going round 
 and round, and the lights were dancing before 
 me, and I didn't know in the least what I was 
 doing or where I was. I took Peloux for 
 Vauclair, and I babbled on in a stream of talk 
 to him ; yet all the while feeling that the words 
 I was saying didn't mean what I wanted to 
 say. The others were in much the same fix; 
 and by the time that Margan had got through 
 with about the twentieth singing of his third 
 verse we all felt that we had had drink enough 
 and something to spare! 
 
 Out we went into the streets once more ; but 
 we could not walk straight, and at one moment 
 we banged against the wall and the next we 
 stumbled along in the midway gutter. Drink 
 had driven all sense out of me and I can't re- 
 member in the least a single street that we 
 passed through. My comrades must have 
 kept a few gleams of sense about them, for 
 they managed to get themselves and me into a 
 great big house, all full of lights, that I found 
 out afterward was a theatre. All that I can 
 remember about it is that I saw a big handsome
 
 342 (j:i)c ftebe of 
 
 woman in a lace dress so thin that she might 
 have left it off without anybody's noticing 
 much difference who shrieked out a song 
 in a way to make your ears tingle, and 
 who all the time she was singing twisted 
 about and shook herself as a dog does when 
 he has a bone caught in his jaws. And when 
 she got through everybody clapped and clapped 
 as if it had been the loveliest song in the 
 world. 
 
 When she had finished her howling, Mar- 
 gan shouted: "Come along, boys! Let's 
 show the young lady an Avignon round! " and 
 then in the midst of the astounded audience 
 standing in the pit, we danced the craziest 
 round to the ribald " Fai, fai, fai!" 
 
 Just as on a sunny day in summer the little 
 whirlwinds strike the threshing-floor, gather- 
 ing up for a moment a column of dust and 
 husks and then going as suddenly as they 
 came, did we whirl around before the amazed 
 Parisians and then vanish through the corridor 
 into the dark street. 
 
 But after that performance we had the grace 
 to be ashamed of ourselves, and we agreed 
 that it was time to go back to the barracks. 
 The trouble was, though, that we didn't in the 
 least know which way to go. Paris at all times
 
 l)e Storming of tl)e King's Castle. 343 
 
 is a puzzle for a Marseilles man, but it is most a 
 puzzle at night. 
 
 "Look there," said Margan, staggering a 
 little as he spoke. "Do you see that lantern ? 
 Well, I know that lantern I saw an Aristocrat 
 hung up to it only two nights ago. If we go 
 down there past it we'll get to the river, and 
 then we'll be all right." 
 
 Margan's reasoning was so good that we 
 went the way he pointed out to us; and it did 
 bring us to the river, sure enough. We knew 
 where we were, then, and we set to singing as 
 we crossed the bridge and turned to walk up 
 stream. But all of a sudden there was no 
 river in sight, and we were all tangled up 
 again in the narrow crooked Paris streets. 
 
 "It's all right," said Peloux. "I know 
 where we are. That light off there is the 
 barracks lantern, for sure." 
 
 We headed for the lantern, and as we got 
 nearer to it we heard the most infernal racket 
 inside. 
 
 "Well, I'm glad we're back again," said 
 Peloux. ' ' The boys are having an oldfashioned 
 good time." 
 
 "Why, this isn't the barracks," said Mar- 
 gan. 
 
 "You're right, I believe it isn't,'' Peloux
 
 344 1) fte&s of t\)t ittibi. 
 
 answered. " But no matter. Let's go in and 
 see what's going on. The doors are open and 
 there's nothing to pay. Come on! " 
 
 We followed him, and as we were stepping 
 across the threshold we met a couple of sans- 
 culottes dragging along a man whom they 
 threw into a cart waiting on the opposite side 
 of the street. 
 
 "Oh," said Margan, "it's a tavern; that's 
 what it is. Didn't you see the drunken man 
 those fellows were carrying out ? Pooh ! 
 These Parisians can't hold any wine at all! " 
 
 As we talked, we went into a great vaulted 
 entrance-hall filled with a shouting, yelling 
 crowd at the far end of which went up a 
 stairway to the floor above. Excepting a few 
 women, with their sleeves rolled up to their 
 elbows like hucksters, all the people about us 
 were sans-culottes ; and although they were 
 armed in every sort of way with swords and 
 pikes and iron bars and even staves they all 
 were armed. 
 
 Every one was pushing toward the stair- 
 way ; and as we stood on tip-toe and looked 
 over the heads of the crowd we saw that at 
 the foot of the stairs was a little red table at 
 which sat three sans-culottes, with red caps on 
 their heads, looking as stern and serious as
 
 Storming of tfye King's Castle. 345 
 
 judges. A flickering candle stuck in a bottle 
 stood on the table and lighted up the picture. 
 
 While we stood watching, there was a 
 movement up in the shadows at the head of 
 the stairway; and then down into the light 
 came an old priest. He was as pale as death, 
 his hands were bound, and he was between 
 two jailers who pushed and jostled him to 
 make him go faster. As soon as he stood in 
 front of the table at which sat the stern-look- 
 ing judges, a sharp voice cried out: "He has 
 refused the oath." And then the judges all to- 
 gether cried: "Death!" 
 
 On the instant, two or three iron bars 
 struck him down. Pikes and swords were 
 thrust into him. He was dead. And then 
 two sans-culottes dragged out his body to 
 throw it in the cart the same whom we had 
 met dragging out the man that we thought 
 was drunk. 
 
 This sight so sobered me that I dropped 
 Margan's arm and edged my way forward 
 through the crowd toward the front rank that 
 I might see what was going on. The farther 
 1 pushed the tighter I was squeezed; and at 
 last I was caught fast among a lot of men and 
 women all so much taller than I was that even 
 on tip-toe I could not get a clear view. But
 
 346 |)c Heirs of llje HUM. 
 
 by stooping I managed to see out under the 
 elbow of a big National Guard who had a 
 bloody iron bar in his hand. 
 
 I was just settled in my place when a young 
 and beautiful lady was dragged down the 
 stairs. She caught at the balusters, and when 
 she was forced in front of the judges she fell 
 on her knees and her screams and prayers for 
 mercy fairly broke my heart. " Poor girl! " I 
 thought. "Surely they won't dare to kill 
 her ? " But in a moment three brutes of women, 
 three furies, flung themselves upon her; and 
 whHe two of them scratched gashes in her 
 face the third dragged down the waist of her 
 dress and like a mad dog bit and tore her 
 tender breasts. Saving her from this torture, a 
 sans-culotte ran her through with his sword. 
 
 The work went on rapidly. One after 
 another, quickly, prisoners were dragged down 
 the stairs ; sentence was passed on them in a 
 breath ; and in another breath they were killed 
 and carried away to the cart. 
 
 All this while the big National Guard in 
 front of me had not stirred. Suddenly he 
 stepped forward, and in the same instant I 
 heard the high-pitched feeble voice of an old 
 man, a voice that I well knew, crying out: 
 <( Ah, there you are, my good and faithful fel-
 
 l)e Storming of ttye King's (Eostk. 347 
 
 low. Save me! Save me!" In answer to 
 that cry, the big National Guard raised his iron 
 bar and brought it down with a terrible blow 
 on the head of the poor little old man who was 
 begging for his life. 
 
 Then I recognised big Surto : at last he had 
 murdered his master, the Marquis d'Ambrun! 
 As the Marquis fell, La Jacarasse came out 
 from the crowd, and with her pig-killing knife 
 coolly began to cut off the gold buttons from 
 his coat. Surto stepped forward and stamped 
 on the face of his master with his hob-nailed 
 shoes. 
 
 With one bound I was in front of the mon- 
 ster, and as I shook my fist at him I cried: 
 "He is a murderer, an Anti-Patriot! Arrest 
 him ! " But instantly a half dozen of the men 
 and women, of the hundreds who were shriek- 
 ing and howling with delight at the bloodshed, 
 seized me and dragged me before the judges. 
 "Thou art the traitor!" they cried. "Thou 
 art the Aristo ! Death ! Death ! " 
 
 Happily for me, one of the judges rose from 
 his place and laid his hand upon my head, and 
 so protected me from the iron bars already 
 raised. When the anger of the murderous 
 gang was a little quieted he asked me to give 
 an account of myself, and to tell why 1 wanted
 
 348 $l)e E*&0 of 
 
 to revenge the death of a Marquis who had 
 come from the other end of the country to help 
 the King. 
 
 I began to answer, speaking in as good 
 French as I could muster: "I am a Federal 
 Patriot belonging to the Marseilles Battalion." 
 
 "Death! Death!" shrieked the women, 
 breaking in on me; while a sans-culotte who 
 had drawn a paper from my pocket and 
 glanced at it cried out: "Look here! Read 
 this bit of paper it is his death-warrant! " 
 
 It was Monsieur Randoulet's letter recom- 
 mending me to Canon Jusserand. The judge 
 took the paper, and for a moment there was 
 silence. Up on the stairs above us a line of 
 prisoners was waiting until my affair should 
 be settled to be brought downward to death. 
 
 The sans-culotte judge frowned as he read 
 the paper, and I was sure that I was lost. 
 Truly enough, the recommendation of one 
 priest to another priest was a death-warrant in 
 those days. I looked around and called to 
 Margan and Peloux to come forward and prove 
 the truth of what I had said ; but the two, hav- 
 ing lost sight of me, must have staggered out 
 into the street thinking that they would find 
 me there. 
 
 "Death! Death!" shrieked the sans-cu-
 
 Storming of tl)e King's a01le. 349 
 
 lottes, crowding around me and raising their 
 iron bars to beat out my brains as soon as the 
 judge took his hand off my head. 
 
 But just then a voice from a strange quarter 
 was raised in my defense. "Wait! I will tell 
 you the truth in this matter. I swear to speak 
 the truth I who so soon shall appear before 
 my God! " 
 
 It was one of the prisoners on the stairs 
 who was speaking. As the judges turned to- 
 ward him he went on: " That unhappy boy 
 most certainly is a Federal Patriot, a member 
 of the Marseilles Battalion. I know it only too 
 well. That very boy gave the information to 
 the gendarmes of the Nation which led to my 
 arrest on the bridge of Saint-Jean d' Ardieres. 
 In proof of what I say, tell him to show you the 
 medal of Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours that I 
 gave him then." 
 
 Then I knew who it was that was speak- 
 ing for me : it was the old shepherd, the Bishop 
 of Mende. 
 
 I put my hand into my pocket and pulled 
 out the medal and gave it to the judges. They 
 looked at it for a moment, and then said to- 
 gether: "What the boy has said is the truth. 
 He is a Patriot, a Marseillais. " 
 
 "Then let him be off and join his Battal-
 
 35 l)e Hebs of U)e HUM. 
 
 ion," cried a red-coiffed woman; and, seizing 
 me by the shoulder, she thrust me into the 
 crowd toward the door. 
 
 I wanted to thank the Bishop of Mende who 
 had saved me from death ; but that could not 
 be. As I turned around 1 saw him kneeling 
 then the iron bars fell and he dropped in a heap ! 
 
 1 looked for Surto and La Jacarasse, deter- 
 mined to revenge myself on the two monsters ; 
 but they had slipped away during the stir 
 caused by my affair, and no doubt had gone 
 to join the worthless Adelaide the traitress 
 Marquise. 
 
 There was nothing left for me but to come 
 away too. 1 worked along through the crowd 
 and got out at last to the street; and glad I 
 was to be in the quiet of the dark streets, and 
 alone. The sight of Adeline's father had stirred 
 me deeply. I seemed still to hear ringing in 
 my ears the sound of his weak, piping, old- 
 man's voice; the very same voice that had 
 called out to the swine-herd who had given 
 me such a whack when 1 picked up the cab- 
 bage-stalk: "Well done! Well done! What 
 is thai little rascal doing there ? Does he want 
 to take the food out of the mouths of my 
 pigs?" And now I had seen that old man 
 murdered by his own servant in cold blood !
 
 i)c Storming of ti)e King's (Hustle. 35 J 
 
 By that time I was no longer a staggering 
 drunkard. I was entirely sober. A great 
 fright had come to me. Death had been close 
 to my shoulder so close that 1 had felt her 
 cold breath upon my neck. The fumes of 
 wine had been driven out of my brain. And 
 suddenly, there in the darkness and silence, all 
 that had happened to me during that day, and 
 most vividly what had happened during these 
 last moments of it, flashed before my eyes. 
 As I saw it all there came over me a fear, an 
 anguish, a shame, no words can tell. How 
 could I ever confess to Lazuli, to Vauclair, to 
 Adeline, how I had passed that day? They 
 could call me anything bad, and it would be 
 true. 1 could make no denial. Very likely 
 they would have nothing more to do with me 
 would turn me out of doors. 
 
 Then I thought of my money, and began 
 to hunt in my pockets for it every sou of 
 it was gone! I must have spent it in my 
 stuffing and guzzling. Yet that money did 
 not belong to me to spend. It really be- 
 longed to Vauclair. I owed it to him. Just 
 out of pure goodness and kindness of heart, he 
 had sheltered me and cared for me for six 
 long months. It was his money that had gone 
 in my gluttony and drunkenness. 
 24
 
 35 2 b* Hel>s 0f 
 
 What a sin I had committed ! Truly I did 
 deserve to be looked down upon by Vauclair 
 drunkard that I was! Lazuli would be in 
 tears. Poor Adeline, in all her bitter trouble, 
 would have more trouble and of my making. 
 She would be ashamed to touch me, to speak 
 to me. Never could I dare to see them in such 
 pain and sorrow because of my wickedness; 
 never could I dare to face them again after 
 what I had do'ne. Better would it have been 
 had the Bishop of Mende held his tongue; bet- 
 ter had the sans-culottes dashed out my brains. 
 That would have ended all! 
 
 In an unending bat-like whirl these dark 
 thoughts flew round and round in my soul. 
 On I tramped, recklessly, aimlessly. I turned 
 one street corner after another without know- 
 ing where I was going. I tried to hold the 
 tears back, but they kept rolling down my 
 cheeks. Never had I suffered so bitterly since 
 that night when I came back to the hut of La 
 Garde and found myself without father or 
 mother, alone. The same despair seized me 
 that had seized me then, and the same dark 
 thought came to me the river! The river 
 would not be frozen like the pond at La Garde 
 and oh, the good bed that it would make 
 for me! Where was that good kind river?
 
 Storming of tfye Hing 1 Caetlc. 353 
 
 AH that I wanted was to find it and throw 
 myself into it and so be forgotten of all the 
 world. 
 
 As I looked around me I saw that the gutter 
 was running red with blood the blood of the 
 unhappy wretches they were killing in the big 
 building out of which I had just come and I 
 knew that this red stream must flow down to 
 the river. I only had to follow it and it would 
 lead me to the great river for which I so longed. 
 
 I stepped out quickly, but carefully kept 
 sight of the little red stream that rippled on 
 leading me to my deliverance. And presently, 
 turning a corner, I dimly saw the river before 
 me overlaid by the friendly morning mist 
 that veiled from me my dismal grave. And 
 then, as before at the pond of La Garde, I drew 
 back for a spring. 
 
 At that very moment I heard the rattle of 
 drums. I hesitated. I stopped. Off on the 
 other side of the river, in front of what had been 
 the King's Castle, drums were beating the as- 
 sembly just as they did on the morning when 
 we made the attack. What could that drum- 
 call mean, I wondered. Could it be for the 
 departure of the Marseilles Battalion ? Could 
 it mean that the tyrant had come back ? But, 
 whatever it meant, it put fresh life into me.
 
 354 t)e Eeb0 of tlje HUM. 
 
 Instead of jumping into the river I hurried 
 across it to the drums. 
 
 When I came in front of the Castle I found 
 a platform set up on which were three Patriots. 
 One of them was waving the flag of the Na- 
 tion, blue, white and red; another held up a 
 placard on which was written: "The Country 
 is in -Danger! "; the third had before him on a 
 table a book in which he was writing down 
 the names of volunteers for the army of the 
 Revolution. 
 
 Men of all ages were pressing forward to be 
 enlisted : old fellows with grizzled moustaches, 
 youths, boys like myself. They all were of 
 the poorer class, and as they gave their names 
 to be written down they gave everything that 
 they had to give their blood and their life. 
 Each man, as he passed in front of the altar of 
 his Country and placed his name on the roll 
 of his Country's army, shouted "Vive la Na- 
 tion ! " and so went on to take his place under 
 the command of a sergeant who ranged the 
 volunteers in line. As each fresh company 
 was formed its men were given guns and pow- 
 der and ball: that was the whole of their ac- 
 coutrement. Then came the order: "For- 
 ward, march ! " and then and there they 
 started on a forced march to the frontier.
 
 l)c Storming of tlje Eittg's Castle. 355 
 
 My heart thrilled. The Country in danger ? 
 What! We had pulled down the King and 
 smashed his throne to bits and now outsiders 
 were coming to set up King and throne again 
 and to ravage our land! That should never 
 be! On the instant my mind was made up. 
 I marched to the platform and gave in my 
 name as a volunteer, and shouted " Vivo la Na- 
 cioun ! " as I turned to take my place in the 
 ranks. 
 
 "Stop, citizen," said the Patriot who was 
 writing down the names. " Here is your pay 
 for a month," and he handed me three crowns. 
 And then, looking hard at me, he went on: 
 " Surely I know your face. Haven't you been 
 living lately with my good neighbour Plan- 
 chot ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered. 
 
 Hearing Planchot's name startled and moved 
 me. Right away I seemed to see Adeline 
 and Vauclair and Lazuli, and fear and shame 
 and sorrow came back into my heart and the 
 tears came close to my eyes. But I held my- 
 self together and forced back the sob that was 
 mounting in my throat for it never should be 
 said that a Marseilles volunteer had wept before 
 a Parisian moustache! 
 
 And so, having steadied myself, I said to
 
 35 6 l)e flc&s of 
 
 the Patriot: "As you are our neighbour, I 
 want you to say good-bye for me to my peo- 
 ple at home and to give them these three 
 crowns. Please say to them : ' Pascalet sends 
 you these three crowns in remembrance of 
 your great kindness to him. He is now a 
 volunteer in the Army of the Revolution. The 
 country is in danger and he has started for the 
 frontier. ' ' 
 
 As I spoke, I placed my three crowns in 
 the Patriot's hand and with them I seemed to 
 lay down also my load of sorrow and of bitter 
 shame. 
 
 The bright sunshine was gilding the eaves 
 of the King's Castle about which pretty blue 
 pigeons were flying blithely. Our drums rat- 
 tled the quick-step. My company moved 
 and I was started on my march for the Frontier 
 of the North ! 
 
 Old Pascal was silent for some moments, 
 and we all were silent with him. Even the 
 chattering Materoun, for once in his life, was 
 too deeply interested to wag his tongue. Then 
 Pascal, sighing a little, went on. 
 
 With my regiment, I was back in Paris a 
 year later to the very day the sixteenth of
 
 l)c Storming of llje fling's Castle. 357 
 
 Fructidor in the year II. We had fought at 
 Valmy, and on the borders of the Rhine even 
 into Holland, driving the last Prussian out of 
 the territory of the Republic. Then our regi- 
 ment was ordered to the South ; and we were 
 halting in Paris to enlist more men before join- 
 ing the Army of Italy. 
 
 That sixteenth of Fructidor I was stationed 
 on guard at the guillotine that was chopping 
 off heads on the Place de la Revolution stand- 
 ing with shouldered arms on the scaffold, close 
 to the National Knife. I was half sick with 
 the horrible doings going on there, and with 
 my back to the guillotine I stood looking out 
 over the eager shouting crowd. 
 
 From where they turned a far corner, I 
 could see the tumbrils full of condemned Aristo- 
 crats as they slowly made their way through 
 the crowd to the scaffold steps. Some of the 
 Aristocrats were very brave, looking as cool 
 and quiet as if they were going to a festival ; 
 but others, poor things! seemed more dead 
 than alive so pale, so broken, that to see 
 them fairly drew my heart out of my body. 
 But it made no difference how they looked or 
 how they behaved. Up the steps they came 
 and the big knife, without resting, cut off head 
 after head. At each fall of the knife the whole
 
 35 8 t)* Ms ot tlje ittibi. 
 
 scaffold shook, and a cold shiver ran through 
 me while I longed and longed to be quit of 
 my horrible task. 
 
 At the end of what seemed to me a very 
 long time I saw the last cart coming, and with 
 only three people in it: two women and a 
 man. It was nearly over, I thought. 1 would 
 have to hear the fall of the knife and feel the 
 jar of the scaffold only thrice more. Full of 
 pity, I watched the on-coming cart. 
 
 As it rounded the end of the scaffold, pass- 
 ing right beneath me, I saw that the man 
 crouching in one corner suddenly started and 
 then leaned still more forward as though to 
 hide his face; as if he had recognised me, and 
 did not want me to recognise him. I looked 
 hard at him, and as I looked my heart gave a 
 bound it was Surto! In another moment I 
 saw that the two crouching women were the 
 Marquise Adelaide and La Jacarasse! 
 
 Oh, that time the guillotine was doing good 
 work! That time I did not turn my back as 
 the knife fell! With burning eyes I looked at 
 them as they were pushed out of the cart and 
 up the scaffold steps. I stared hard. I wanted 
 to make sure of them. But I had not made a 
 mistake: their time had come! 
 
 Surto, coward that he was, drew back so
 
 Storming of t^e Hing'a Castle. 359 
 
 that the women might go first. The Marquise 
 trembled and groaned and muttered her prayers. 
 La Jacarasse squealed like a sow that already 
 feels the knife stuck in her throat. The execu- 
 tioner was used to all that. He had no time 
 to waste. He caught hold of Surto and pushed 
 him down in front of the red block. I tried to 
 speak. I wanted to curse them for all their 
 crimes. But the words stuck in my dry throat, 
 and all that I could do was to point to the 
 sharp knife shining above them. The Marquise, 
 looking upward, fell on her knees with a bitter 
 cry; and even I started back, troubled and 
 amazed. It was not the sight of the knife that 
 so thrilled us; but the sight, above the knife 
 on the cross-piece of the guillotine, of a name 
 that cried vengeance: 
 
 ADELINE. 
 
 Three times the great knife fell. Three times 
 the heavy stroke shook the scaffold. Three 
 times there fell into the basket a head with eye- 
 lids that still fluttered and with jaws, still work- 
 ing, that bit the bloody saw-dust. 
 
 "Well done! Oh, well done!" cried La 
 Mie, jumping up and clapping her hands. 
 " How I wish I had been there to see them get
 
 360 |)e Heb0 of lt)e JttiM. 
 
 their deserts! To think of that awful Marquise 
 who had her son and her husband murdered 
 and who turned over her daughter to La Jaca- 
 rasse ! It seems impossible ! " 
 
 ''And that Surto," put in Lou Materoun. 
 "What a Dutch devil he was! But, to tell the 
 truth, 1 don't believe that he was the only one 
 who killed his master in those days. We all 
 know of others who got their hands on what 
 belonged to the Aristos who emigrated or were 
 guillotined and they are the very ones who 
 now-a-days wear green ribbons with a fleur-de- 
 lys in their buttonholes, and are forever taking 
 off their hats to every nobleman who goes by." 
 
 " Those times had to be," said my grand- 
 father, as he drew the cork out of his bottle of 
 malmsey. 
 
 "Yes, France was like a tree that needed 
 pruning," added Lou Materoun. 
 
 And so each one had his say, while La Mie 
 took the chestnuts off the stove and handed 
 them around. 
 
 While I had been sitting still in my corner 
 the cat had gone to sleep on my lap and 1 did 
 not dare to move for fear of waking her. But 
 my tongue was burning to ask a question; and 
 after they all were quiet, with their mouths full 
 of chestnuts, I ventured to speak.
 
 Storming of tlje King's (Castle. 361 
 
 "If you please, Pascal?" I said. 
 
 "Well, little man, what is it?" he an- 
 swered. 
 
 "If you please, Pascal, did you never see 
 dear little Adeline again ?" 
 
 " Never, child." 
 
 He was quiet for so long that I feared that 
 was the end of it. But at last he spoke. " As 
 I told you, I went off to the army of Italy with 
 General Bonaparte who afterwards became 
 the great Emperor Napoleon. I went through 
 all the wars with him. I followed him through 
 hundreds and hundreds of battles, which were 
 hundreds and hundreds of victories. Under him 
 we conquered Italy, Egypt, Austria, Prussia, Ger- 
 many, Spain, Russia. We only stopped when 
 there was no more earth to conquer. I ate 
 wheat-bread in Rome and rye-bread in Berlin. 
 I made my bivouac in Vienna and lighted my 
 camp-fire beside the palace walls. I sharpened 
 my sword on the stones at Jaffa. I picked figs 
 in the gardens of Saragoza. 1 ate Russian 
 horse-ribs roasted in the fire of Moscow. I fol- 
 lowed the great Napoleon through everything, 
 and I was with him at the last at the battle of 
 Mont- Saint-Jean. It was then, finding himself 
 betrayed, that he vanished. But he will come 
 again ! He surely will come again !
 
 362 |)e ftebs of tl)e JttiM. 
 
 "And as to Adeline, not a day of my life 
 has passed without my thinking of her 
 though only once I heard of her in the course 
 of all my wars. 
 
 "It was in Egypt, on the third of Thermi- 
 dor, in the year VI. We had just finished kill- 
 ing all those thousands of Mamelukes. The 
 sand was covered with their bodies as far as a 
 man's eyes could see. I was tired out after so 
 much fighting; and while I was resting my- 
 self, sitting in the shade of the first step of the 
 highest Pyramid in Egypt, a drummer of our 
 army came up to me. ' If I'm not wrong 
 about it, comrade,' said he, 'you're Pascalet, 
 the son of La Ratine ? ' 
 
 " 'Oh, yes, that's me, my good Celegre,' I 
 answered. 'And I'd know you anywhere by 
 the way you speak. How do you happen to 
 be here ? And when did you leave Malemort ? 
 Tell me what my people are doing there.' 
 
 "So Celegre sat down beside me there on 
 the Pyramid and gave me all the news from 
 home. My mother had given me a brother 
 named Lange, he said; and two years later 
 my father, poor fellow! had died. But I had 
 no need to worry about my mother, Celegre 
 went on, because the daughter of the old Mar- 
 quis d'Ambrun, Mademoiselle Adeline who
 
 l)c Storming of tlje King's (Eastlc. 363 
 
 since had died a nun in the Ursuline Convent 
 at Avignon had made her a present of the 
 hut at La Garde with a bit of land around it, 
 and of a larger bit of land at Pati, and of a snug 
 little house in the village in the Rue Basse; and 
 with all that property my mother and my little 
 brother lived very comfortably indeed. ' And 
 there's somebody to look after her, too,' Ce- 
 legre went on ; ' a man in Avignon, a joiner, 
 named Vauclair. It was he who brought out 
 to her the deeds, written by the notary's hand, 
 that made her sure of Mademoiselle Adeline's 
 gifts; and he is as kind to her as if he were 
 her own son. He told me that you and he 
 marched up to Paris together in the Marseilles 
 Battalion, and he thinks the world of you to 
 this day. 
 
 " 'What a good fellow he is, that Vauclair! 
 And his wife Lazuli and his boy Clairet are 
 made of just the same good dough! I went to 
 see them as 1 passed through Avignon; and 
 after I'd said I was from Malemort, and was a 
 neighbour of your mother's, and knew you, 
 they couldn't do too much for me and every- 
 thing in their house was mine. They made 
 me take breakfast and dinner and supper with 
 them ; and all the time they talked about Pas- 
 calet, their own dear little Pascalet; and they
 
 364 l)e &ebs of tl)c 4JUM. 
 
 cried like children just as you are doing 
 now.' 
 
 "And it is true," Pascal said, as he rose to 
 get his glass of malmsey, "that the tears had 
 come as I listened to all that Celegre had told 
 me but the sands of the desert can drink 
 many tears." 
 
 I think that we all understood how deep 
 was Pascal's feeling as he said these words. 
 No one spoke for a minute or more; and then, 
 of course, the speaker was Lou Materoun. 
 
 "There's just one thing, Pascal," said Lou 
 Materoun, "that I must ask you to clear up 
 for me. Just now, when you were speaking 
 about the great Napoleon, you said ' He surely 
 will come again.' If he's still alive, I'd like to 
 know what our picture at home means the 
 one on which is written : ' The return of Napo- 
 leon's ashes ' ? I always thought that that pic- 
 ture showed how they brought him back from 
 Saint Helena and buried him in the Invalides, 
 up at Paris." 
 
 "Hold your tongue, chuckleheaded don- 
 key!" answered Pascal, angrily. "Don't you 
 know that the Bourbons got up that funeral to 
 make people think he was dead ? But he is 
 not dead. I who speak to you will swear 
 and I am ready to put my hand into the fire if
 
 l)e Storming of tlje Hing's Castle. 365 
 
 I swear falsely that within these three years 
 past I have seen him and spoken with him. 
 It is a matter about which there can be no mis- 
 take. It happened in broad daylight in my 
 field at Pati that lies near, you know, to the 
 place they call Caesar's Camp. 
 
 " I had been spading that field to get rid of 
 the couch-grass, and while I was standing rest- 
 ing I saw a strange man coming toward me with 
 a rake on his shoulder. He walked straight 
 into my field, and when he was within ten 
 paces of me he stopped and said: 'Good and 
 brave soldier of the Empire, show me the way 
 to Caesar's Camp.' 
 
 "And as he stood there, plain before me 
 in the sunlight, I knew him it was the Em- 
 peror! 
 
 "I was so upset, so dazed, that I did not 
 know which end I was standing on. And all 
 I could say, as I pointed out the way to him, 
 was : ' There straight ahead. ' 
 
 "The Emperor turned and left me, crossing 
 from corner to corner of my field. And since 
 that day " Pascal spoke these words very 
 solemnly "I have never given a single hoe- 
 stroke or spade-stroke where his footsteps 
 passed! You may go up there, if you like, 
 and you will find in my field a grassy cross-
 
 366 |)e Eebs of tlje 
 
 wise path. That path marks the footsteps of 
 the great Napoleon. I tell you, he is still 
 alive! " 
 
 Old Pascal drained his glass of malmsey; 
 and then, the meeting being over, each man 
 kindled his lantern and La Mie blew out the 
 light. 
 
 THE END.
 
 J* '"' II///II/I 
 
 514 704