THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 // 
 
 
 f 
 
 y-^/^, 
 
 ^'r,-'it^'S&y^ T 

 
 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 H IHovel 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM WESTALL 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 HER TWO millions" "A FAIR CRUSADER ' 
 "A PHANTOM city" " BIRCH DENE" ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 
 
 1894
 
 Copyright, 1S94, by Harper & Brothers. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 r. A LANCASHIRE LAD I 
 
 H. TRYING TIMES 8 
 
 ni. MOB LAW 15 
 
 IV. TO THE LANTERN 18 
 
 V. A FORLORN HOPE 24 
 
 VI. FOR HONOR 3I 
 
 VXI. FOR LIFE 41 
 
 Vin. UP A TREE 48 
 
 IX. ANGELIQUE 55 
 
 X. A SURPRISE 62 
 
 XI. TEN HEADS 73 
 
 XII. HIDE-AND-SEEK 8 1 
 
 Xni. MADAME DUFOUR 9O 
 
 XIV. THE VICOMTE'S PROPOSAL QQ 
 
 XV. THE INCIDENT OF THE FLOWER-POT IO9 
 
 XVI. CITIZEN SERIN FIRES A PISTOL 115 
 
 XVII. BAD NEWS I23 
 
 XVIII. IN PERIL 131 
 
 XIX. THE RAVEN I38 
 
 XX. A NEW ACQUAINTANCE I44 
 
 XXI. QUITE OUT OF THE QUESTION I5I 
 
 XXII. KNIGHTS OF THE DAGGER I57 
 
 XXIII. TILL WE MEET AGAIN 166 
 
 XXIV. AT THE GOLDEN PIG 173 
 
 XXV. DOGGED 180 
 
 XXVI. BETRAYED I88 
 
 XXVII. HOLDING THE PASS . . , Ig4
 
 IV CONTENfS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XXVIII. CAPTURED jg-j 
 
 XXIX. IN PRISON 204 
 
 XXX. WE MEET AGAIN 213 
 
 XXXI. LIGHT 221 
 
 XXXII. A MES.MERIZED WARDER 220 
 
 XXXIII. I MAKE AN END OF DEPUTY SERIN 230 
 
 XXXI V. BY LAND AND SEA 040
 
 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 A LANCASHIRE LAD 
 
 Mv father was a born Switzer, of Canton Berne, and came 
 of a family which for generations had produced soldiers of 
 fortune, most of whom served in the Swiss regiments of the 
 French kings. 
 
 Others of the Von Astors, who were ever a prolific race, 
 took to the professions and to trade. Among these was a 
 certain Frederic von Astor, Having a shrewd head for busi- 
 ness and a turn for science, he betook himself to Elsass, 
 studied practical chemistry, and served a long apprenticeship 
 to the arts of dyeing and calico printing. After a while he 
 received an invitation to proceed to Lancashire, where he 
 obtained an important position in the house of Peel, Yates 
 & Co. But Frederic Astor was too enterprising to serve 
 long in a subordinate capacity. He dropped the " von," set 
 up for himself, married a Lancashire wife, and became a 
 British subject and my father. 
 
 Of his three brothers, one was in the French Guards, an- 
 other in the army of Holland, the third in the army of Na- 
 ples. My maternal grandfather was also a soldier ; he served 
 with distinction at Dettingen, Fontenoy, Culloden, and 
 Quebec. 
 I
 
 2 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 So I came of a fighting stock on both sides of the house, 
 and it seemed to be in the nature of things that 1 also should 
 desire to be a soldier, and seek to win the bubble reputa- 
 tion at the cannon's mouth. 
 
 Ikit it was also in the nature of things that my father, a 
 man of peace from his youth up, should want me to become 
 a calico printer and succeed to the fine business he had 
 built up. Wherefore it came to pass that when, in my seven- 
 teenth year, I left Giggleswick Grammar-school, where I ac- 
 quired a smattering of Latin, Greek, arithmetic, and the use 
 of the globes, and attained to great proficiency in bird's-nest- 
 ing, bo.xing, foot-ball, and cricket, I was ordered to begin my 
 career " at the works." I pleaded hard with my father to 
 let me begin it in the army. ]]ut he said that was all non- 
 sense, I must buckle to business. So to parody Gibbon, I 
 sighed as a would-be soldier and obeyed as a son. 
 
 I made my debut in the designing-room, and as I had a 
 turn for sketching, and my father <lid not "tie me to the 
 bell," and I was allowed to spend a good deal of time out 
 of doors, riding after the harriers, running after the otter- 
 hounds, and what not, I did not find the life altogether intol- 
 erable. But one day when I was busy in the designing- 
 room my father chanced to come in, and seeing me hard at 
 work laid his hand on my head and commended me for my 
 industry. 
 
 " What are you drawing, Fritz ?" says he, looking over my 
 shoulder. '■^ Ach Ilimmcl ! Soldiers! Who ever heard of 
 soldiers as a pattern for calico printing ? This won't do at 
 all. I must put you to something more practical. Vou shall 
 go into the color-shop and dye-house. The morning in the 
 one, the afternoon in the other." 
 
 The change pleased me. I was gelling tired of silting on 
 a stool and bending over a desk. The ne.xt day I went into 
 the color-shop and made a horrid mess of my hands and
 
 A LANCASHIRE LAD 3 
 
 clothes. But I liked the dye-house best, nnd had rare sport 
 larking with the men, going with them to the croft, getting 
 up wheelbarrow races, and, when the weather was warm, 
 bathing in the dye-becks. 
 
 But this part of my career was brought to an abrupt ter- 
 mination by an untoward incident. One afternoon I prof- 
 ited by my father's temporary absence to get up a pitched 
 battle in one of the crofts between the dj^e-house lads and a 
 contingent of tier boys. The weapons were wet pieces, rolled 
 up and used like flails. I led the tier boys, who were con- 
 sidered to be the weaker part}'. We had a glorious fight, 
 and I think we should have beaten the dyers if in the very 
 thick of the engagement my father had not appeared on the 
 scene with a horsewhip in his hand. 
 
 Then there were wild cries of " Th' mayster ! th' mays- 
 ter !" and both armies dispersed in dire dismay and left me 
 in sole possession of the field. 
 
 My father was very angry, and said that for the future he 
 should keep me in the counting-house, under his own eye, 
 and I was too much ashamed of myself to offer any vain ex- 
 cuses. 
 
 I went into the counting-house accordingly, and made an 
 honest attempt to master the mysteries of book-keeping, in 
 the which, however, I failed so signally that as a last resort 
 my father resolved to give me a trial at the " Manchester end." 
 Though he had come to the conclusion that I should never 
 shine as a calico printer, he entertained a lingering hope that 
 I might be turned into a tolerable if not a brilliant salesman. 
 
 I rather liked the new departure. A bedroom was provided 
 for me at the warehouse, but I spent much of my time at 
 home, and in riding, driving, and coaching on the twenty 
 miles of road between Manchester and the works, or " shop," 
 as Lancashire folk call a calico-printing factory. All the 
 same I did some work. I was introduced to the customers,
 
 4 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 and gave some of them a dinner at the White Bear. I even 
 booked a few orders, and my too sanguine parent informed 
 our chief salesman that he thought I was on the right track 
 at hist. 
 
 It did not last long, however. One morning when I had 
 charge of the warehouse, while the salesmen were making 
 their rounds, a customer came in boiling with rage, and 
 complained that we were sending him nothing but "jobs." 
 Everything was wrong, length, width, reed, picks ; the colors 
 were as bad as they could be, and the printing was worse. 
 Considering this to be an imputation on the honor of the 
 firm, I told the fellow roundly that the pieces were perfect 
 and that he was a fool, and when he gave me an imperti- 
 nent answer, kicked him down-stairs and half-way across 
 Mosely Street. 
 
 This proved to be the final incident of my commercial 
 career. My father gave up for good and all the attempt to 
 convert me into a business man, and was so angry at my 
 latest escapade that he did not speak to me for a month. 
 Nevertheless, I continued to make occasional visits to the 
 " shop," and one Thursday (somebody being on the sick- 
 list) I was asked to go to Manchester on the following day 
 for the wage money. 
 
 I complied with alacrity. It was a job that suited me, 
 and early next morning King Corkery was put into the gig 
 and I started for Manchester. The horse was so called 
 because he had been bought at Preston Fair from a dealer 
 who rejoiced in the name of Corkery O'I'rien, and said he 
 was descended from an Irish king. 
 
 Corkery was an excellent animal. No journey was too 
 long ft)r him. He would do his eight miles an hour, up 
 hill and down dale, all day long, but faster than that he de- 
 clined to go under any circumstances, and had never been 
 known to gallop even when out at grass.
 
 A LANCASHIRE LAD 5 
 
 As it was a three -months' pay, and the sum I had to 
 bring back large, I armed myself with a pair of horse-pis- 
 tols, which I put in a holster strapped to the right-hand rail 
 of the gig. 
 
 I got the money in two large bags, securely padlocked, 
 which were put under the gig seat, and when King Corkery 
 had had a good feed and three hours' rest I set out on my 
 homeward journey. For the greater part of the way all 
 went well. I gruelled the King at Bury, then drove stead- 
 ily on through hilly Haslingden, which was as cold as it 
 generally is, past Baxenden, and down into Accrington. 
 
 By this time it was at the edge of dark, but being within 
 two miles of home, and considering myself and my money 
 quite safe, I pulled Corkery into his slowest trot, so that I 
 might take him home cool. 
 
 I had been jogging on in this style for three or four 
 minutes when two men, who seemed to spring from the 
 ground, and had, no doubt, been lying in the ditch bottom, 
 caught my horse by the head and brought him to a stand. 
 
 Then one of them came to the gig side and presented a 
 pistol at my head. 
 
 " We know what you have got there," said he. " Out 
 with it, or you are a dead man. Two bags." 
 
 " Very well," I answered. "Better lose my money than 
 my life. Wait half a minute while I open the boot." 
 
 While speaking I stooped, as though to comply with his 
 demand, at the same time drawing and cocking one of my 
 pistols. Then, quickly rising, I let fly at the footpad who 
 was holding Corkery. The horse made a plunge that threw 
 the villain on his back, and, as a second shot rang through 
 the air, bounded off at full gallop. 
 
 The King went like mad. Stopping him was out of the 
 question, even if I had wanted to stop him. The gig 
 swayed so wildly from side to side that it was a wonder we
 
 6 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 did not capsize, or go bodily into Hynburn Iirook, which 
 bordered the road. 
 
 Hut the old horse, though terribly scared, knew what he 
 was about, and five minutes after the encounter he turned 
 into the farm-yard at my father's house, and stopped at the 
 stable door, trembling violently, and shaking his head as 
 thoujih he had taken leave of his senses. 
 
 Before I could alight, old Wiggin, the groom, came run- 
 ning with a lantern. 
 
 "What's up?" he exclaimed. "Owd Corkery hasn't 
 been taking th' boggart " (bolting) " sure-ly. Bithmon has 
 he ! Why. he is aw of a swat, his heyd's covered wi' blood — 
 and dom me if th' top of one of his ears hasn't getten 
 knocked off! Whativer's been to do ?" 
 
 At this moment mv father, who- had been on the lookout 
 for me, came into the yard. 
 
 "Glad to see you safe back, Fritz," said he. "Got the 
 money all right .-' But, God bless me, what has happened 
 to King Corkery .' I thought you knew better than to bring 
 a horse back in this state." 
 
 " \N'hy, he is th' same hissel," put in Wiggin, holding up 
 the lantern. " Look at him. Dom me, if there isn't blood 
 on his face and a hoyle in his hat." 
 
 " Vou have been attacked! Are you hurt, boy?" asked 
 my father, anxiuusly. 
 
 *' No— anyhow, not much— I didn't know" (taking off my 
 hat and feeling my head). "It's only a scratch." 
 
 " Very nearly a kill, though. Look at these holes; the 
 bullet went through your liat. Thank (lod you are no 
 worse. How did it happen and when? And the wage 
 moncv ?" 
 
 When I had .m^wLUil ui) father's c|ueslions he put his 
 arm round my neck and led me towards the house. 
 
 " Vou have saved mc fifteen hundred pounds, dear boy,"
 
 A LANCASHIRE LAD 7 
 
 said he. "That is good, but better still is it that you have 
 shown courage and presence of mind. Make light of it to 
 your mother. She has been blaming me, and rightly, for let- 
 ting you go alone for the wage money. We shall have to 
 make a soldier of you after all. It is in your blood. We 
 cannot compete with nature, and nature evidently designed 
 you for a man of war. All the same, I don't like the idea 
 of buying you a commission. It seems wrong that a man 
 should pay for the privilege of serving his country. How- 
 ever, your Uncle Daniel is coming next week. We will talk 
 it over with him. I wonder who those fellows were — not 
 regular highwaymen, I am sure. Most likely neighbors, 
 maybe our own men." 
 
 And so it proved, or rather was presumed, for as, owing 
 to the darkness, I had been unable to recognize my assail- 
 ants, I could not swear to them. Nevertheless there was 
 every reason to believe — reasons amounting to moral cer- 
 tainty — that the delinquents were two of our own block 
 printers temporarily short of a job, who, having heard of my 
 errand to Manchester, planned to rob and, if need were, to 
 murder nie. Both were men of indifferent character. On 
 the day in question their movements were suspicious, and 
 for a week afterwards one of them, known as Jack-off-th'- 
 Shelf, kept his bed, and when he reappeared carried his 
 arm in a sling, having, as he said, lamed his shoulder by 
 falling down-stairs. 
 
 We all thought that the bullet that hit King Corkery's 
 ear had gone through Jack's arm. But, as there was no 
 direct evidence connecting him with the offence, he saved 
 his neck, for had his confederate and himself been pros- 
 ecuted to conviction, they would have had to swing from the 
 battlements of Lancaster Castle.
 
 CHAIMKR II 
 T R \' 1 N C; T I M E S 
 
 Mv I'licle Daniel held a captain's commission (which 
 gave him the rank of colonel in the army) in the Royal 
 Swiss Guard of France. He was a tall, handsome, brown- 
 visaged man, decorated with the cross of St. Louis, and a 
 thorough soldier , and for me, and I think for my father, 
 his visit, his conversation, and his stories were highly en- 
 joyable. He had next to no English, but as I had picked 
 up from my father a fair knowledge of colloquial German, 
 and from my sisters' governess a smattering of P'rench, I 
 understood him perfectly. We became fast friends from 
 the first day of our acquaintance (I had not seen him be- 
 fore). He warmly sympathized with my ambition to be- 
 come a soldier, and met my f ilher's objection to buying a 
 commission in the British army by offering to obtain me 
 one without purchase, in his own or some other Swiss 
 regiment. 
 
 " iJut he is Knglish," objected my father. 
 
 '' The English son of a Swiss father. Besides, it is quite 
 enough that he is a \^on Astor, and my nephew. Since the 
 time of Francis I. there has always been at least one of 
 the family in the Royal Guard, and as no questions will be 
 asked about Fritz's nationality, none need be answered." 
 
 My father accepted this proposal all the more readily that 
 he was an enthusiastic admirer of the great I-'rench Revolu- 
 tion, which was just then in the earlier stage of its wild career. 
 He believed ihat the rest of Europe would follow the ex- 
 ample of France, that we were at the beginning of a new
 
 TRYING TIMES 9 
 
 era, an era of peaceful progress and universal brotherhood, 
 and though I might become a soldier I should never need 
 to fight. 
 
 In the light of subsequent events this may seem rather 
 absurd, but at that time there were few liberal-minded men 
 who did not cherish similar illusions, and nobod}-, so far as 
 I know, foresaw that Europe was on the eve of a cataclysm 
 such as had not occurred since the downfall of the Roman 
 empire. 
 
 For the rest my father behaved very handsomely, gave 
 me an ample outfit, and promised to supplement my pay in 
 such sort as to enable me to live like an officer and a gen- 
 tleman. But he wisely insisted that before entering a regi- 
 ment I should spend three or four terms at a military college, 
 in order to better my knowledge of the French tongue, and 
 learn something of the theory of my future calling. 
 
 So I went with my uncle to France, and after eighteen 
 months of strenuous study and practical work at Angers 
 joined the Swiss Guard. I could have had an immediate 
 appointment as ensign in a line regiment ; but my uncle 
 thought, and I agreed with him, that I had better go into 
 the Guards, though I had to wait for my commission, and 
 serve meanwhile as a gentleman volunteer. 
 
 This was in 1791, and since I left England the conditions 
 and prospects of France had undergone a portentous change. 
 The revolutionary flood was rising higher and higher, and 
 threatened ere long to overwhelm the throne and sweep 
 away the last vestiges of the ancient institutions of the 
 land. 
 
 Whatever my uncle may have thought, he had little to say 
 about politics, but the condition of the army gave him great 
 concern. It was simply going to pieces. The privates 
 elected their ofiTicers and then refused to obey them. The 
 French Guards and several other regiments mutinied. The
 
 lO FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 Swiss regiment of Chateauvieux broke into open revolt at 
 Nancy, and the mutiny was only suppressed after an action 
 in which five hundred men were killed and wounded. The 
 ringleaders were tried by court-martial, seven of them shot 
 and forty sent to the galleys. But a few months later the 
 prisoners were liberated and brought to Paris, hailed by the 
 populace as- heroes and martyrs, and received with honor 
 by the National Assembly. 
 
 These things sorely grieved the officers and men of the 
 Swiss Guard. Their only consolation was that the mutineers, 
 being mostly from Geneva and the Welcher Schweiz (the 
 French-speaking cantons), were no true Switzers. 
 
 " God alone knows what will be the end of it all," said my 
 uncle, sadly. '' T5ut our course is clear. We have sworn to 
 defend the king against his enemies, and defend him we 
 shall, even tliough we have to lay down our lives to the last 
 man. Whatever may betide, the Swiss Guards will be true 
 to their salt." 
 
 Tins was the sentiment of every man in the regiment, for 
 noblesse oblige, and privates as well as officers were "gentle- 
 men of the Swiss Guard," jealous of their honor and proud 
 of their fidelity to the flag under which they served. 
 
 As touching myself I regarded the outlook foreshadowed 
 by my uncle without misgiving, rejoicing rather than other- 
 wise at the idea of a fight d outrancc with the truculent mob 
 that held Paris in terror. But I thought as a youth who had 
 not yet fronted or even seen death. 
 
 I also possessed a full measure of youthful vanity, and 
 was so proud of my new clothes tiiat I had a portrait of my- 
 self taken in fiillclrcss uniform and sent to my fatlier. it 
 depicts a tall, broad-shouldered young fellow of nineteen or 
 twenty, dressed in a scarlet cutaway coat, with long lappets, 
 white inside and folded back, blue collar and facings, with 
 while Initton-holes and silver buttons, while waistcoat, belt,
 
 TRYING TIMES II 
 
 breeches, and leggings, the last coming above the knee. 
 His cocked hat is trimmed with silver, his hair powdered, 
 and his arms are sword, musket,^and bayonet. 
 
 When I had gone through a course of drill at Courbevoie, 
 at that time the regimental depot, I went to Paris and took 
 up my quarters in the barracks at the Tuileries, where the 
 main body was then stationed for the protection of their 
 majesties. 
 
 I saw them often. Louis XVI. was a stout, clumsily built 
 man with a good-natured yet weak face, and bore himself 
 so unlike a king that I could hardly believe that he came of 
 a kingly race. We of the Swiss Guard had afterwards 
 bitter cause to regret that France had not been blessed with 
 a more masterful monarch, and ourselves with a more reso- 
 lute chief. 
 
 But Marie Antoinette was a right queenly woman, whose 
 high qualities more than atoned for her husband's defects. 
 She had a noble face and an imposing presence, and a 
 manner so gracious and winning that all who knew her 
 loved her. Her majesty took great interest in her guards, 
 and knew all the officers and many of the privates by 
 name. 
 
 One day, when we were mustered for parade in the coiir 
 royak of the palace, she beckoned to my uncle and spoke 
 a few words to him ; whereupon he beckoned to me, and, 
 the honor being quite unexpected, and myself unused to the 
 etiquette of courts, I stepped forward in some confusion. 
 
 " So this is your nephew. Captain d'Astor ? Quel beau 
 ganoH r (what a fine young fellow), said the queen. " What 
 is his name ?" 
 
 " Frederick, madame ; but we generally call him Fritz." 
 
 "Well, INIonsieur Fritz, you bear an honored name, and 
 I am sure you will prove worthy of it. These are trying 
 times, and we have many enemies and few friends."
 
 12 iOR HONOR AND LIKE 
 
 I was deeply moved, for Marie Antoinette's voice was 
 troubled, and her beautiful eyes were filled with tears. 
 
 " 1 would die for your majesty !" I exclaimed passionately. 
 
 " Ah, no ! Don't speak of dying. Rather live for us, for 
 the king, my children — and me." 
 
 And then she gave me her hand to kiss, and I returned 
 to my place in the ranks, proud of the "honor which had 
 been conferred on me, and treasuring the queen's words in 
 my heart. 
 
 But our fidelity to the king made us hated alike by the 
 Jacobins of the National Assembly and the populace of 
 Paris, and when political excitement ran high the Guards 
 were either confined to barracks or sent away for a few 
 days, lest their appearance in the streets should give olTence 
 to the rabble and lead to trouble , and it was against regu- 
 lations to go beyond the precincts of the palace at any 
 time, except in twos and threes. Men who went out alone 
 were apt never to return. 
 
 Vet I contrived to see a good deal of Paris, luckily, for 
 the time came when a knowledge of its topography, and of 
 the manners and customs of its inhabitants, was a matter of 
 life and death to me. 
 
 Accompanied by my comrade Ghitz, a volunteer like my- 
 self, with whom I had struck up a warm friendship, now 
 and then by Sergeant Sternberg, who knew his way about 
 as well as a rag-picker or a police-officer, 1 walked the 
 streets of Paris for hours at a time. 'I'hese excursions were 
 generally made in the evening, when we were least likely to 
 attract attention ; and as we were armed, and, I dare say, 
 looked dangerous customers to tackle, we were seldom 
 molested. 
 
 Nevertheless we could not alwavs avoid awkward ren- 
 centres, and one night, but for Sternberg's coolness and 
 presence of mind, we should have been forced into a fight
 
 TRYING TIMES 13 
 
 from which it was hardly possible we could have escaped 
 with our lives. It fell out that, as we turned out of the Rue 
 Feydeau into the Rue St. Marc, we encountered two or 
 three score of sans-culottes,* who, though our scarlet coats 
 were hidden under our cloaks, recognized us at sight, prob- 
 ably by reason of our white gaiters and military bearing. 
 
 These sans-culottes, a term signifying without breeches, 
 though not necessarily without trousers, were for the most 
 part the dregs of the population, idlers and vagabonds, 
 armed and paid by the municipality, and dressed, or half- 
 dressed, as they pleased. 
 
 Having been strictly enjoined by our officers to behave 
 with circumspection and give no occasion for offence, we 
 wanted to go on quietl}^ but the ruffians barred the way, 
 brandishing their weapons and yelling " Down with the 
 Swiss ! To the devil with all aristocrats !'' 
 
 As it would have been both ignoble and dangerous to 
 turn back, we kept our ground, and Glutz. who was as brave 
 as a lion, threw back his cloak and laid his hand on his 
 sword. 
 
 " Quietly," whispered the sergeant in German. " Twenty 
 to one are long odds ; let us see whether they mean mis- 
 chief before we try fighting. 
 
 "You are of the Swiss Guard .'"' said the head ragamuffin, 
 coming forward as though he were going to eat us. He had 
 no coat, and his shirt-sleeves were rolled up to the elbows ; 
 on his head was a Phrygian cap, which might easily have 
 been mistaken for a red nightcap, and he carried a firelock 
 and a sabre. 
 
 * At the beginning of the revohition the nobles stigmatized their 
 opponents as sans-culottes, a designation which so delighted "the men 
 of the people " that they adopted it as a title of honor, and it eventually 
 became the name of a party, but did not survive the Terror.
 
 14 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 '• We are." answered Sternberg, curtly. 
 
 " Men who would fire on the people at a tyrant's bidding 
 deserve to die. Would you fire on the people at Louis 
 Capet's bidding?" 
 
 '• I know nothing of tyrants, but 1 know niv duty, and if 
 niv commandinir officer ordered me 1 should fire on mv 
 own father." 
 
 " Or me ?"' 
 
 " Certainly. For choice I would much rather fire on you 
 than my father, and 1 am quite ready to do it now " (point- 
 ing to his pistols). 
 
 On this the others laughed boisterously, and after saying 
 we were brave fellows, who knew no better, bade us go on. 
 
 " After you, gentlemen, if you please," said the sergeant, 
 doffing his hat. "We Switzers never turn our backs — on 
 our friends." 
 
 The sans-culottes laughed again and marched off, while 
 we stood aside with our backs to the wall. 
 
 "Why should we wait ?" asked (ilutz, innocently. 
 
 "Thunder and lightning! Don't you see.-*" growled 
 Sternberg, in his rough vernacular. " If we let them get 
 behind us we might be brained before we could turn 
 r(nind."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MOB LAW 
 
 All this time, that is to say from October, 1791, when 
 they fled from Paris and were arrested at Varennes, to Au- 
 gust, 1792, when they were removed to the Temple, the royal 
 family were under strict surveillance at the Tuileries. The 
 king was continually watched lest he should make a second 
 attempt to quit the kingdom ; neither he nor the queen 
 could take the air without being followed by gendarmes, 
 who never let them out of sight, and insulted by the un- 
 mannerly crowds who thronged the gardens of the palace, 
 and beset the gates of the Cour Royale, 
 
 The king's deposition was openly demanded both in the 
 National Assembly and the streets. On the 20th of June 
 the mob broke into the palace, forced his majesty to put on 
 a cap of liberty, assailed him with scurrilous abuse, and 
 threatened him with death. 
 
 After this the downfall of the monarchy was merely a 
 question of time. 
 
 In the sense that during these trials the king showed no 
 fear, he may be said to have behaved nobly. On the other 
 hand, he displayed none of the qualities by which causes 
 are won and kingdoms saved. His saintly submission to 
 cruel enemies and adverse fate hastened his doom. The 
 royal martyr turned his cheek to the smiters, and they smote 
 again and yet again. 
 
 Meanwhile the Swiss Guards were sent hither and 
 thither, and matters were so arranged by the ministers, or 
 by some sinister influence behind them, that at the times
 
 l6 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 when our services were most needed at Paris we were gen- 
 erally elsewhere. 
 
 In the month of July my company was at Courbevoie, 
 which is about a league beyond the bridge of Neuilly. 
 
 Though it was not easy to obtain leave, we went into Paris 
 twice. But the declaration of war against Austria and 
 Prussia, and inflammatory speeches by unscrupulous dema- 
 gogues, had raised popular excitement to fever point, and 
 on the first of these occasions Glutz and myself — who, owing 
 to the heat of the weather, could not well wear our cloaks — 
 were so ill received that we deemed it prudent to turn back 
 before worse befell us. 
 
 We could not have gone in mufti without civilian passes, 
 which we did not possess, nor wearing side-arms and pis- 
 tols, with which it would have been unwise to dispense. 
 
 The second time we managed better. Sergeant Sternberg 
 and Corporal Waldteufel, of our company, had made friends 
 with some National Guards ; and one evening, when the lat- 
 ter were not to be on duty, they lent us their uniforms — two 
 for Glutz and myself, two for Sternberg and \\'aldteufel, who 
 were to be of the party. 
 
 We had leave from 6 p..m. until midnight, and took a 
 fiacre as far as the Rue St. Honore, and after supping at a 
 cafe in the Rue du Luxembourg began our walk, a walk 
 which was marked by a startling adventure — an adventure 
 which, judged by its consequences, proved to be one of the 
 most momentous incidents of an eventful life. 
 
 Though France just then was like a seething volcano, 
 though she was in the throes of a revolution, threatened by 
 civil war and foreign invasion, Paris, her heart and brain, 
 seemed as gay and careless as ever. The theatres were open, 
 the cafes full, the shops doing a roaring trade, the boule- 
 vards and public gardens thronged with pleasure-seeking 
 crowds. Nobody either questioned or noticed us, for though
 
 MOB LAW 17 
 
 the citizen soldiers of the National Guard were less popular 
 with the masses than the sans-culottes, they were respected. 
 
 We strolled on until we reached a part of the town where 
 we met few people of fashion, a quarter of narrow streets, 
 poor dwellings, and sombre walls, pierced with blind alleys 
 and wide gateways, leading into warehouses and workshops. 
 
 Here and there was a lamp hanging from a rope which 
 stretched across the street, and could be raised or lowered 
 by means of pulleys attached to the walls. But when there 
 was a moon, and on short summer nights, these lamps were 
 not lighted. 
 
 By this time the sky had become overcast with clouds 
 and it was almost dark, though we could still see some lit- 
 tle distance ahead and had no difficulty in finding our way, 
 
 " Hadn't we better be making towards Courbevoie ?" said 
 Glutz. " Time is getting on, and it looks as though it would 
 rain, and for my part I don't find these dark and dirty old 
 streets particularly amusing. Donner Wetter ! It is rain- 
 ing. I felt a drop on my face." 
 
 " And if you did, what then ? You are surely not like a 
 French dandy, more afraid of a shower of rain than a 
 shower of bullets," growled Sternberg in his deep guttural. 
 " All the same — thunder and lightning, what is that ?" 
 
 " Shouts and the trampling of many feet, and the gleam 
 of weapons," said I, peering into the darkness. " Coming 
 this way, too." 
 
 " Was ist los " (what is up), " I wonder ? Anyhow, we don't 
 want to get mixed up in a row that might make us overstay our 
 leave, and you know how straitly the Herr Hauptman, your 
 respected uncle, charged us to keep out of scrapes. So let 
 us slip into this gateway and wait till these shouters go by." 
 
 On this sage advice we promptly acted. The gateway 
 was in deep shade, and formed a coigne of vantage from 
 which we could see without being observed.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 TO THE LANTERN 
 
 The hubbub grew louder, the din more hideous — men 
 sliouting, women screaming, arms clashing. 
 
 "To the lantern with him! Down with all aristocrats! 
 Down with Madame Veto!" (the queen)." To the lantern with 
 him !" were the first articulate cries that reached our ears. 
 
 '• Gott im Himmcl ! They are going to hang somebody," 
 muttered Glutz, pointing to a lamp which was swaying in 
 the wind a few yards from where we stood. 
 
 This was likely enougli. In those days the populace of 
 Paris were in the habit of utilizing lamp ropes for the re- 
 moval of obnoxious individuals. Hanging without trial or 
 judgment was the sanction of mob law. 
 
 Meanwhile the advance guard of the procession had 
 reached the gateway, and a queer procession it was — di- 
 shevelled women, wicked -looking lads, wild-visaged men, 
 and a horde of sans-culottes, hustling along a bareheaded 
 man bound witli cords, whose blood-streaked face and torn 
 clothes showed that he luul been engaged in a desperate 
 struggle. 
 
 I'he crowd halted under the lamp. 
 
 "To the lantern with him!" shrieked the women. 
 
 " lie would not say, ' Down with Madame \cto !' " Give 
 him a swing in the air!" shouted the men. 
 
 "Down with all aristocrats! Stick his head at the end 
 of a pike !" cried the boys. 
 
 One of the murderers began to lower the rope. 
 
 " Cannot we rescue him ?" I asked my companions.
 
 TO THE LANTERN 19 
 
 " I am afraid not , they are too many and the sans-culottes 
 are armed. Besides, it would be against orders," said the 
 sergeant, dubiously. 
 
 "What are orders when a man's life is at stake?" 
 
 " Let us try, in God's name !" exclaimed Glutz, tightening 
 his belt. 
 
 " A rush would do it. The miscreants would be too much 
 surprised to offer an effective resistance, and if there is a 
 way out at the back of this yard, we could escape before 
 they realized what had happened." 
 
 This in German. 
 
 "There is a way out," answered a voice behind us in the 
 same language. 
 
 " Who are you ?" I demanded, turning sharply round. 
 
 " A Switzer, like yourselves, and the porter in charge of 
 this warehouse. But there is not a moment to lose. If you 
 rescue that poor gentleman I will help to shut the gate when 
 you return, and show you the way out afterwards." 
 
 " Good ! What say you, Sternberg and Waldteufel ?" 
 
 " We are with you, Herr von Astor," answered both the 
 men in a breath, drawing their swords. 
 
 "Good again ! Now, all together, and remember that our 
 object is to rescue him and get away, and do no more fight- 
 ing than is absolutely necessary. Charge !" 
 
 And then we made our rush. Two of the sans-culottes 
 were already adjusting the rope round their victim's neck. 
 With a mighty kick, Waldteufel, who was a very giant of a 
 fellow, sent one of them sprawling, Glutz dashed his sword- 
 hilt in the other fellow's face, and with a swift cut of mine 
 I severed the prisoner's bonds. 
 
 " Back to the gateway !"' I said, taking his arm and hur- 
 rying him along. 
 
 For a minute or two the crowd stood stock-still, as though 
 they had been struck with paralysis, and then, realizing what
 
 20 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 had happened, made a dash at the gate, which we were in 
 the act of closing. 
 
 If they got in our doom was sealed, and, taking aim be- 
 tween the bars, I shot the two leaders down, one after the 
 other. This checked their followers for a few seconds, and 
 while they hesitated we shut and bolted the gates. 
 
 " It will take them ten minutes to break in, at the very 
 least," said the friendly Switzer. " This way, gentlemen." 
 
 We went off at the pas gymnasiiqiie (quick march), fol- 
 lowed by a dozen musket-shots and the curses of the crowd, 
 neither of which did us any harm. 
 
 The warehouse yard was bounded at the bottom by a high 
 wall. 
 
 "On the other side of that wall you will be safe — for the 
 present," said the porter. "But I advise you to get out of 
 the neighborhood quickly , there will be a devil of a hue- 
 and-cry after you. Push that cask against the wall, then 
 climb to the top and drop on the other side." 
 
 " But what will you do ?" I asked, as Sternberg gave the 
 rescued man a leg up. 
 
 " I shall pretend that those ruffians have wakened me out 
 of a sound sleep, and ask what the mischief they mean by 
 trying to break the gate in." 
 
 " And your name ? You have done a brave, generous 
 deed, and I shall never forget you or it." 
 
 " Peter Bauer, aus Unterwaldcn. But over with you, 
 Meinherr. Don't you hear them hammering at the gate? 
 And I must put this cask out of sight before they get in." 
 
 I grasped the honest fellow's hand, sprang on tlie cask, 
 and the next moment I was among my comjjanions. 
 
 " Are we all here ?" I asked. 
 
 "All," answered Sternberg. 
 
 "Do you know where we are ?" 
 
 " Not exactly, but—"
 
 TO THE LANTERN 21 
 
 " I do," put in the ex-prisoner, " and if you will allow me 
 to lead the way — whither would you like to go ?" 
 
 " Anywhither, so long as we throw that canaille'''' (riff-raff) 
 " off the scent." 
 
 " AUons ! March !" 
 
 After a rapid walk of fifteen minutes through a net-work 
 of gloomy streets and narrow lanes our guide slackened his 
 pace and turned to me. 
 
 " Now we are safe," he said. " I defy them to overtake 
 us. We are close to the Latin Quarter, but, as a bareheaded 
 man attracts attention, would you do me the favor to step 
 into that old-clothes shop at the corner and get me a hat? 
 — the shabbier the better." 
 
 I went into the shop and bought the gentleman an old 
 hat. 
 
 "Thank you," he said in English. 
 
 " God bless me ! Are you English.''" I exclaimed in my 
 native tongue. 
 
 " No, I spoke inadvertently. But the fact is I have just 
 returned from London, where I fell into the habit of saying 
 'Thank you.' May I, without being indiscreet, inquire to 
 whom I am indebted for saving my life at the very mo- 
 ment I had given myself up for lost ? It was well and 
 bravely done." 
 
 "My name is Astor, and my companions are Messieurs 
 Glutz, Sternberg, and Waldteufel." 
 
 " These are German names ; you speak German and 
 English and yet wear the uniform of the National Guard." 
 
 " We are of the Swiss Guard, monsieur," I said, coldly, 
 for I was getting tired of being asked everything and told 
 nothing. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, and, now I know you to be as loyal 
 as you are chivalrous and brave, I shall deal as frankly with 
 you as you have dealt with me — which means that I place
 
 22 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 in your hands the life you have so nobly saved. I used to 
 be the Vicomte de Lancy ; at present I call myself by my fam- 
 ily name of Boulanger" (Baker), "which is plebeian enough 
 for a member of the Jacobin Club. I am a loyal servant of 
 the king and queen, whose release from their gilded prison I 
 would give my life to effect. This night I was in the Fau- 
 bourg St. Jacques on business — political business — and 
 having occasion to call at a cabaret frequented by work- 
 men, I had the ill-luck to be recognized and denounced by 
 a sans-culotte Avho had once been my coachman. I suc- 
 ceeded in getting away, but was followed, and after a hot 
 chase fell into the toils. My captors offered to let me go if 
 I would shout ' Down with INIadame Veto !' and join in 
 singing the ' Carmagnole.' But this I could not do, even to 
 obtain my liberty. Then two proposals were made — one to 
 take me to the nearest police-station, the other to hang me 
 at the nearest lantcnie. The assassins carried the day, and 
 w^ere only prevented from carrying out their design by your 
 courage and address, for which, gentlemen of the Swiss 
 Guard, I tender you my warmest thanks." 
 
 And the Vicomte de Lancy doffed his liat and made us a 
 courtly bow. He was somewhat below middle height and 
 slightly built, and, as well as I could make out in the moon- 
 less gloom, had regular features, a fair skin, and brown 
 curly hair. As touching his age, he seemed to be about 
 thirty, although by daylight he would probably look younger. 
 Before we parted he took me aside. 
 
 "A word in your ear," he whispered. "Though I am 
 compelled to keep in the shade, under pain of losing my 
 head or taking an air bath, I know something of what is 
 going on. Not all who bow the knee to Baal worship him 
 in their hearts. You understand. Well, I have information 
 — from a sure source — that the chiefs of the Jacobin Club 
 and the commune of I'aris have resolved to consummate
 
 TO THE LANTERN 23 
 
 the destruction of the monarchy, proclaim the republic, and 
 lodge their majesties and the royal family in a fortress or a 
 dungeon. The attempt is to be made within a month, per- 
 haps sooner. The Tuileries will be attacked by an armed 
 force, consisting of sans-culottes and Marseillais, under 
 the command of Santerre. Should the Swiss Guard remain 
 stanch and tire on the people they are to be destroyed to 
 the last man — if the insurrection succeeds. But if proper 
 measures be taken for the defence of the palace, and the 
 National Guard, the gendarmerie, and yourselves be true, 
 the insurgents will be defeated and the kingdom saved." 
 
 "We, at least, shall be true — on that you may stake 
 your existence; and so, I think, will the others," I an- 
 swered. 
 
 "Good ! I am glad to hear you say so. And now, dear 
 friends, farewell — this night has made us friends, has it 
 not ? We may meet again, but whether we do or not I shall 
 never forget that I am your debtor for life." 
 
 And then we shook hands and the ci-devant vicomte 
 went his way and we went ours, eii fiacre, and passed the 
 sentry on guard at Courbevoie barracks as the clocks went 
 twelve.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 A FORLORN HOPE 
 
 On the following morning I told my uncle, strictly as my 
 uncle, of our adventure of the previous night, as also what 
 I had heard from the gentleman who called himself Bou- 
 langer. I thought it right that my uncle should be informed 
 of this, and I could not tell him a part without telling him 
 the whole. 
 
 "It is well this has not come before me officially, or I 
 should have to take notice of it in a way you might not find 
 agreeable," he said, with a grim smile. " You should not 
 have disguised yourselves as National Guards, and you had 
 no business to meddle with those sans-culottes." 
 
 " Wouldn't you meddle, uncle, if you saw a poor devil 
 on the point of being hanged, the rope actually round his 
 neck — wouldn't you make an attempt to save him ?" 
 
 "A man in his individual capacity may, of course, if he 
 thinks fit, risk his life to save that of another. But you be- 
 long to the regiment, and have no right to compromise it 
 even to save a dozen lives ; and if you had failed in your 
 attempt and fallen into the hands of those cutthroats the 
 regiment would have been seriously compromised. The 
 Jacobins would have demanded your heads, possibly the 
 disbanding of the regiment. They have audacity enough 
 for anything, those fellows. I hope the National Guards 
 whose clothes you borrowed will keep their own counsel, 
 else there may be trouble even yet." 
 
 " I am sure they will, for their own sakes," quoth I, and 
 then by way of changing the subject inquired what my uncle
 
 A FORLORN HOPE 25 
 
 thousht of the information I had received from M. Bou- 
 langer. 
 
 "I dare say the gentleman is right," was the answer. "I 
 have heard similar rumors from other quarters, though none 
 so definite as this. It is no news that the Jacobins and 
 sans-culottes hate the regiment. They have done that for 
 a long time, and no wonder ! We are the only impediment 
 to the accomplishment of their designs." 
 
 " You forget the National Guard and the gendarmerie." 
 
 " The National Guard are merely a loosely disciplined 
 local militia, commanded by office-clerks and shopkeepers ; 
 they would almost certainly refuse to fire on the people, as 
 it is the fashion to call the rabble, even in defence of the 
 Constitution, and as the old soldiers composing the gen- 
 darmerie have mutinied once they may mutiny again. 
 They elect their own officers, too, and men who elect their 
 own officers cannot be trusted to obey them. The outlook 
 is not encouraging, either for the king or ourselves. The 
 regiment cannot survive the monarchy. They must stand 
 or fall together. ... If I could have foreseen these things, 
 Fritz, I should not have let you join the regiment. But 
 being a volunteer you can resign without dishonor. Had 
 you not better do so ? and I will ask your father, as a favor 
 to me, to buy you a commission in the British army." 
 
 " What ! leave you and the regiment because danger 
 threatens ! Never while I live !" I exclaimed, indignantly. 
 
 My uncle smiled approvingly. The regiment was his 
 pride and delight. What wife and children and home are 
 to other men, the regiment was to him. He esteemed its 
 honor and reputation more than his own life, and was as 
 loyal to it as a faithful lover to an adored mistress. With 
 him it was " the regiment " par excellence. Only occasion- 
 ally did he speak of it as the Swiss Guard. 
 
 " I like your spirit, lad," he said. " It is that of a true
 
 2 FOR HONOR AND LIKE 
 
 soldier. Well, let it be so, and I am sure that whatever 
 happens you will do your duty." And then he added, low- 
 ering his voice, " Did the king possess the spirit of a drum- 
 mer-boy we could save him even yet. If he would summon 
 us to the palace, and let us make a clean sweep of the riff- 
 raff who keep him a prisoner in his own palace, and disperse 
 at the point of the bayonet the first mob of howling sans- 
 culottes that appears in the Place du Carrousel, we should 
 hear no more of demands for his dethronement, and plots to 
 destroy the monarchy and set up a republic. But it is no 
 use talking. Louis XVI. has not the spirit of a brooding 
 hen, much less of a drummer-boy, and as likely as not will 
 yield without a struggle." 
 " And then >" 
 
 " Thunder and lightning ! The deluge, the disbanding of 
 the regiment, the reign of the rabble and the ruin of France." 
 This was the first time my uncle had spoken to me so 
 freely of politics, and he straitly enjoined me to make no 
 mention of our conversation to any of my comrades, an in- 
 junction which I need hardly say that I carefully observed. 
 The next day he went to the War Office, and on his return 
 informed me, to my great delight, that I was to be promoted 
 to a vacant ensigncy, of course in the regiment, and that I 
 should be gazetted in the course of a few days. 
 
 Another piece of information which he brought w^as less 
 satisfactory. It was contained in a newspaper called T/ie 
 People's Friend, and related to our rescue of Mr. Boulanger. 
 I'.ut the account it gave of the occurrence was so grotesque- 
 ly exaggerated that had the affair been less serious I should 
 have been highly amused. It was headed " Rescue of a 
 Prisoner by Aristocrats and Prussians disguised as National 
 Guards," and told how several patriots, having recognized 
 in the Faubourg St. Jacques the ci-devant \'icomte dc 
 Lancy, counter-revolutionist, returned emigrant, and emis-
 
 A FORLORN HOPE 2/ 
 
 sary of Coburg and Pitt, they very properly arrested him, 
 and were conveying him to a police-station when they were 
 suddenly set upon by a hundred men in the uniform of the 
 National Guard. After a terrible conflict, in which at least 
 ten of the aggressors were killed or badly wounded, and 
 four of the patriots sorely hurt, the prisoner was rescued 
 and the aristocrats got clean away. As several of the latter 
 had been heard to utter exclamations in German, there would 
 be no doubt that some of them, at least, were Prussians. 
 
 It was added that the police were investigating the affair, 
 and would spare no efforts to ascertain by whose connivance 
 they had been enabled to enter Paris, and to clothe them- 
 selves in the uniforms of the National Guard. 
 
 " I am glad the account is so grossly exaggerated. It 
 will render discovery all the more difficult, and I should be 
 very sorry for the regiment to be compromised," observed 
 my uncle. " If those men of the National Guard whose 
 uniforms you borrowed were to blab — " 
 
 " What would happen ?" I asked. 
 
 " I am afraid you and Sternberg and the others would 
 happen to lose your heads, and the king would be requested 
 perhaps required, to disband the regiment. It would have 
 been better to let the ex-vicomte hang." 
 
 Captain von Astor seemed so much put out that I deemed 
 it inexpedient to say that I did not agree with him. And 
 it was well I did not, for the catastrophe which he appre- 
 hended very nearly came to pass. Either our friends of the 
 National Guard were not quite so discreet as they ought to 
 have been, or by a sufficiently easy process of deduction the 
 police got on the right track. The story of a hundred 
 Prussians and aristocrats rescuing a prisoner and then ut- 
 terly disappearing was too absurd for belief. They could 
 neither have got into Paris nor have obtained a hundred uni- 
 forms without the police being informed, and the latter had
 
 28 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 doubtless convinced themselves by independent inquiry 
 that the number was ridiculously overstated. Then, the 
 only troops in or about Paris who spoke German were the 
 Swiss Guard, and though their uniform was very different 
 from the uniform of the National Guard, they might easily 
 be confounded at night by men who were too much sur- 
 prised to observe accurately. 
 
 Be that as it may, we were suspected, and a few days after 
 the rescue Major Eachmann, the acting commander of the 
 regiment, was informed of the fact and requested to aid in 
 the discovery of the culprits. 
 
 The old soldier answered bluntly that the only aid he 
 could render was to parade the regiment, and so afford the 
 gentlemen of the police and their witnesses an opportunity 
 of identifying the supposed offenders. 
 
 The offer was accepted, and at a time agreed upon half 
 a dozen gendarmes and twice as many villanous- looking 
 sans-culottes, with their sabres by their sides and wearing 
 Phrygian caps and carmagnoles (blouses with tricolored 
 sashes) appeared in the barrack-yard, and the regiment was 
 paraded for their inspection. 
 
 I was on tenter-hooks. So were Glutz, Sternberg, and 
 Waldteufel. For, though it was hardly conceivable that we 
 should be identified, it was clearly on the cards that the 
 scoundrels might pick one of us out by pure chance, and as 
 in that case the picked man would have to give an account 
 of his movements on the night in question, detection would 
 be inevitable. 
 
 But fortune did not serve us so ill. The sans-culottes (who 
 were now ready to swear that the rescuers wore the uniform 
 of the Swiss Guard) pitched on men who, as was proved by 
 the evidence of the non-commissioned officer on duty at the 
 time, had answered to their names at roll-call and never 
 left the barracks afterwards.
 
 A FORLORN HOPE 29 
 
 Our adversaries retired discomfited, yet unconvinced. 
 But the story, as told by the patriots and police, got- wind, 
 and, I fear, did much to envenom the feeling against us 
 which bore such terrible fruit later on. 
 
 July passed, and August — the fatal August of 1792 — be- 
 gan amid sinister rumors and evil omens. The secret im- 
 parted to me by M. Boulanger had become a matter of 
 common knowledge. The preparations for the rising were 
 too extensive to be concealed, and the Jacobin leaders 
 made no attempt to conceal them. Within a few days the 
 Tuileries was to be attacked by a force composed of sans- 
 culottes, Marseillais, the armed patriots of the sections, and 
 as many of the National Guard as could be persuaded to 
 take part in the insurrection. 
 
 The authorities, on their part, made as though they meant 
 to defend the palace and protect the king, but the only force 
 at their disposal were the Swiss Guard and the National 
 Guard, whose fidelity was doubtful. Moreover, the govern- 
 ment did all in their power, short of openly siding with the 
 insurgents, to aid and encourage them. On. the 4th of Au- 
 gust we were warned to hold ourselves in readiness to march 
 into Paris, and the same night the regimental colors were 
 buried in the barrack cellar in order that, whatever hap- 
 pened, they should not fall into the hands of the rebels. 
 
 On the following day the strength of the regiment was 
 weakened by three hundred men, sent into Normandy, as 
 was given out, to assist in the collection of taxes. In the 
 meanwhile we had been deprived of our field-guns, and the 
 reiterated requests of the colonel for further supplies of 
 small-arms ammunition were peremptorily refused. 
 
 At ten o'clock on the night of August 8th we received 
 orders to be at the Tuileries at three on the followino; 
 morning, and two hours later we set out in full marching 
 order, but with only thirty rounds of ball cartridge per man.
 
 30 FOR HONOR AXD LIFE 
 
 It was not a gay march. Forlorn hopes seldom are gay, 
 and we were tlie forlorn hope of the monarchy. We had 
 none of the elation which men feel who fight for hearth 
 and home and the altars of their sires. We were going to 
 fight against terrible odds for a doomed monarch and a 
 lost cause. Our animating motives were soldierly honor 
 and loyalty to the regiment; only a sense of duty held us 
 together. The officers had been deprived of the power to 
 enforce discipline. The men knew that they would be re- 
 ceived with open arms by the patriots and rewarded by 
 their chiefs. Yet I saw no sign of faltering ; not a valid 
 man was absent at roll-call; not a man fell out of the 
 ranks as we marched through the silent city over which 
 hovered the angel of death. 
 
 Few of these sturdy Switzers, worthy descendants of the 
 heroes of Morgarten and Morat, were ever again to see 
 the smoke of their villages or hear the yodling of llie 
 lierdsmen in their native mountains.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 FOR HONOR 
 
 The chateau of the Tuileries was a great and splendid 
 palace, forming, with its dependencies, an irregular quad- 
 rangle. The main building, which stood at right angles 
 to the river Seine, had two fronts, one looking towards the 
 gardens, the other towards the Place Carrousel, now a vast 
 open square, at that time bordered by mean houses and 
 tortuous streets. 
 
 On this side of the palace were three courts, known re- 
 spectively as the royal, the princes', and the Swiss, so called 
 because it contained the lodgings of the Swiss Body Guard. 
 
 The courts were separated from each other by high 
 walls, and from the Place Carrousel by a similar barrier, 
 lodge-gates, and guard-houses. 
 
 Beyond the gardens was the Place Louis XV., afterwards 
 Revolution Place, now Concord Place. Farther still were 
 the Champs Elyse'es (Elysian Fields), a large and beautiful 
 park, planted with trees and shrubs, interspersed with shady 
 walks and picturesque villas set in fair gardens. 
 
 The north side of the gardens was lined with trees and 
 terraces, and between them and the Rue St. Honore were 
 many buildings, among them the military riding -school, 
 which had been converted into a chamber for the National 
 Assembly. 
 
 These particulars are necessary for a right comprehen- 
 sion of what follows. 
 
 The 9th of August was a day of preparation for the 
 combat which apparently had now become inevitable, al-
 
 32 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 thougli, according to report, the king's ministers were ad- 
 vising him to renounce all idea of resistance and to take 
 refuge with his family in the National Assembly. 
 
 Lut to this course, which would have been a virtual ab- 
 dication, the queen was strongly opposed, saying that, for 
 her part, she would rather be nailed to the walls than leave 
 the palace. The supreme command of the defence was 
 vested in General Mandat, a brave and capable officer, and 
 if his plans had not been thwarted by treacher}'^ and himself 
 basely betrayed, the main body of the insurgents would 
 never have reached the precincts of the palace. 
 
 The regiment, numbering some eight hundred men, under 
 the command of Colonel Maillardoz and Majors Bachmann 
 and Salis, was divided into detachments, which were placed 
 in the three courts and the vestibule of the palace. The 
 main bod}', that to which I belonged, was posted in the 
 royal court. 
 
 During the evening we were joined by two thousand 
 National Guards, who brought with them five field-pieces. 
 Most of these men, as also a detachment of gendarmes, 
 ■were stationed on the garden side of the palace, and the 
 guns were unlimbered in the Cour Royale. 
 
 At twelve o'clock the calm of a beautiful summer night 
 was broken by the ringing of alarm - bells all over Paris, 
 succeeded after a short interval by the beating of the ghte- 
 rale and the rappd ; the former calling the insurgents to 
 arms, the latter summoning the National Guard to defend 
 the king and the Constitution. 
 
 The insurrection had begun, and it remained to be seen 
 whether the measures taken by General Mandat to prevent 
 the threatened attack on the Tuileries, by intercepting the 
 rebels at the bridges and on the quays, would be successful. 
 
 Most of the officers passed the night in the royal apart- 
 ments ; the men bivouacked in the courts.
 
 FOR HONOR 
 
 33 
 
 At four o'clock in the morning General Mandat received 
 an order to proceed without delay to the City-hall, to take 
 the final instructions of the municipality, who controlled, in 
 the last resort, the movements of the National Guard. 
 After some hesitation he went, accompanied by his son and 
 an aide-de-camp. Within an hour the aide-de-camp returned 
 in hot haste, and reported that General Mandat had been 
 murdered on the steps of the City -hall, and that the pa- 
 triots were parading his head at the end of a pike. He 
 reported further that the artillery placed by the general's 
 orders on the quays and bridges had been withdrawn, and 
 that the gunners had joined the rebels. 
 
 This ominous news was communicated only to the offi- 
 cers, who, fearing that it might discourage the regiment 
 and encourage our allies of the National Guard to follow 
 the example of their mutinous comrades, kept it to them- 
 selves. 
 
 At six o'clock the king, accompanied by some of his 
 courtiers, two of his ministers, and Colonel Maillardoz, came 
 into the Cour Royale to inspect the troops. He wore a 
 violet velvet coat, the Bourbon badge of mourning. His 
 eyes were bloodshot and the lids dark and swollen, as 
 though he had passed a sleepless night. His countenance 
 was composed, yet there was an occasional nervous twitch- 
 ing about the corners of his mouth which bespoke anxiety 
 and apprehension, and his pathetic, almost helpless smile 
 as the regiment presented arms and shouted " Live the 
 king !" went to our hearts. 
 
 But the cannoneers of the National Guard kept a gloomy 
 silence, and when his majesty passed to the garden side of 
 the palace their comrades greeted him with cries of " Live 
 the nation !" and as he returned from his inspection he was 
 followed by shouts of " Live the sans-culottes ! Down with 
 the veto ! Down with the king ! Down with the queen."
 
 34 
 
 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 These were the troops who had come to take part with 
 us in the defence of the chateau ! 
 
 At seven o'clock the word went round that Louis XVI. 
 had decided, despite the queen's opposition, to withdraw 
 wjth his family to the Assembly. We could hardly believe 
 it, but when one hundred and fifty men of the regiment and 
 three hundred grenadiers of the National Guard were told 
 off as his escort doubt was no longer possible. The queen, 
 her two children, and several ladies of the court went with 
 him, also Baron von Erlach, who commanded the detach- 
 ment, Colonel Maillardoz, and the two majors. 
 
 When they were gone Captain von Durler, who had 
 been left in command of the regiment, now reduced to 
 six hundred and fifty men, invited my uncle and myself 
 and several other officers to breakfast with him in one 
 of the royal apartments, whence, as it overlooked the Cour 
 Royale and the Place Carrousel, we could see what went on 
 there. 
 
 " This beats everything. What next, I wonder.^" said my 
 uncle, as we took our seats at the table. 
 
 Though the wit of the remark was not very obvious, it set 
 the table in a roar. But it was rather the occasion than 
 the remark that was the cause of our mirth. We were 
 laughing at the fiasco which had just taken place, and to 
 relieve our feelings after the suspense and excitement of 
 the night. 
 
 "Well," observed somebody, "it is rather droll to think 
 that we came here expecting to die in defence of his sacred 
 majesty, and make the Tuilcrics tlie Thermopylae of the 
 monarchy." 
 
 " His sacred majesty has run away, and we shall live to 
 fight another day," put in one of the lieutenants. " When 
 do we return to Courbevoie ? What are your orders, Cap- 
 tain von Durler ?"
 
 FOR HONOR 35 
 
 "To remain where we are until further orders, and not 
 let ourselves be forced." 
 
 " So ! The king is coming back, then ?" 
 
 " He will never come back," said my uncle, gravely. " His 
 departure is a virtual abdication. The king who yields to 
 the menaces of the mob without striking a blow for his 
 crown is a king no longer. There is nothing more for us 
 to do." 
 
 "Except to obey orders," observed Captain von Durler. 
 
 " Of course. Except to obey orders. That goes without 
 saying." 
 
 " We shall have no fighting, then V I said in a tone which 
 I dare say savored somewhat of discontent ; for though I 
 knew, theoretically, that fighting is a terrible thing which it 
 is always well to avoid when you can do so with honor, I 
 could not help feeling a little disappointed that we were not 
 to have a brush with the sans-culottes, whom I cordially 
 hated and would have liked to see well punished. 
 
 " I can guess your thoughts, Fritz," returned my uncle, 
 dryly. " Like all young soldiers you want to be doing. 
 But what is the use of wasting the lives of our brave fel- 
 lows in a cause which does not concern them, and for a 
 king who has deserted them ?" 
 
 " But if the insurgents try to force us ?" 
 
 "In that case we must resist. Military honor forbids us 
 either to run away or lay down our arms. But the insur- 
 gents won't attempt to force us. Why should they ? We 
 are not the government. The king and his ministers are 
 at the National Assembly, let them go there. Let them — " 
 
 Here my uncle's words were drowned by a great uproar — • 
 shouts, yells, words of command, the beating of drums. We 
 all ran to the balcony overlooking the Carrousel and the 
 courts. The Place was thronged with a mob of Marseillais, 
 sans-culottes, National Guard, men of the people, armed and
 
 36 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 unarmed, and some women. They were demanding admis- 
 sion into the Cour Royale ; several had got astride of the 
 wall. 
 
 " My orders are to avoid a combat," said Captain von 
 Durler. " I shall withdraw the regiment into the chateau. 
 To your posts, gentlemen !" 
 
 We all followed him downstairs, and in a few minutes 
 we had our men and a platoon of faithful National Guards 
 in the palace ; some were posted in the vestibule, others on 
 the grand staircase and the stairs leading to the chapel, the 
 remainder at the windows of the apartments on the first 
 floor. 
 
 Meanwhile, somebody had opened the gate of the Cour 
 Royale, and the rebels poured in, fraternizing with the gun- 
 ners of the National Guard. A number of the sans-culottes 
 carried their caps on the point of their pikes and bayonets 
 in token of amity, shouting " Long live the Swiss !" These, 
 coming up to the palace, entered the vestibule and called on 
 the regiment to join them "in the name of unity and fra- 
 ternity." To prevent the ruffians from mounting the stair- 
 case, we barricaded it with a beam of wood. 
 
 By this time the advance guard of Santerre's army, which 
 numbered some thirty thousand citizen-soldiers, was march- 
 ing into the Carrousel in columns of companies and close 
 order, and presently several of their ofiicers pushed their 
 way into the vestibule, and asked us to surrender to the 
 nation. 
 
 One of these gentlemen, a certain Westermann, from El- 
 sass, addressing the soldiers in German, exhorted them to 
 lay down their arms and depart in peace, and accused the 
 officers of desiring to make tlie regiment resist for the grat- 
 ification of their own vanity. 
 
 Sergeant Sternberg gave him his answ^er. 
 
 "We are Swiss," said he. "and Switzers only lay down
 
 FOR HONOR 37 
 
 their arms with their hves. The proposal is an insult. If 
 you want the regiment to march away or disband — and we 
 desire nothing better — let it be done legally. But without 
 orders we shall neither quit our post nor lay down our 
 arms." 
 
 Captain von Durler had already spoken in the same 
 sense. 
 
 "We don't want to hurt you," he said. " All we want to 
 do is to be let alone and obey our orders, which are to re- 
 main here and not allow ourselves to be forced. We would 
 rather be your friends than your enemies ; but if you attack 
 us we shall resist to the last extremity." 
 
 Finding that we w^ere not to be seduced from our duty 
 the patriots changed entreaties for threats, saying that it 
 was ridiculous to suppose that a few hundred Switzers could 
 resist thirty thousand patriots in arms, and that if we did 
 not surrender they would give us no quarter. They howled, 
 yelled, cursed, and brandished their weapons like people 
 possessed. An officer of Santerre's seized our leader's arm, 
 and threatened him with his sabre. 
 
 "If he strikes, shoot him," said Captain von Durler to a 
 soldier near him, whereupon the officer lowered his sword 
 and loosed his hold. 
 
 Another lunged at the captain with his pike. Von Durler 
 warded off the stroke with his hand, for even yet he had 
 not drawn his sword, fearing, probably, that the action would 
 be construed as a signal for battle. But the patriots, ascrib- 
 ing our patience to fear, redoubled their insults, calling us 
 hired assassins, satellites of the tyrant, and shouting "Down 
 with the Swiss !" Some dashed up to the barricade and 
 shook their fists in our faces. At length, when the uproar 
 was at its height and it seemed as though the howling ma- 
 niacs were going to storm the barricade, one of them dis- 
 charged a pistol.
 
 38 FOR HONOR AND LITE 
 
 The effect was startling. Our men brought their pieces 
 to the present. One of the sergeants, thinking we were 
 going to be rushed, shouted " Fire !" The muskets went 
 off, and with a wild yell the sansculottes bolted from the 
 building, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to es- 
 cape. The people in the upper rooms gave them a volley 
 from the windows, and at the same time Santerre opened 
 fire from the Carrousel and the Cour Royale, both with small- 
 arms and artillery, and the action became general. 
 
 One of the first to fall on our side was the lieutenant 
 who less than an hour before had said we should live to 
 fight another day. 
 
 Seeing that unless the rebel artillery were silenced our 
 position would soon become untenable, Captain von Durler 
 ordered a charge, and himself led the way. The struggle 
 for the guns was short and decisive. It was a confused 
 hurly-burly, a fierce hand-to-hand fight ; and so great was 
 my excitement, so dense and thick the smoke, that I can re- 
 call little of what happened to my comrades, and not much 
 of what happened to myself. 
 
 A big Marseillais came near spitting me with his pike, 
 but I got within his guard and ran him through the throat. 
 Several of our men were killed among the guns. Waldteu- 
 fel clubbed his musket, and with a single sweep of it floored 
 three sans-culottes. We cleared the Cour Royale in two 
 minutes, then charged through the gate and captured the 
 artillery in the Carrousel. ]>ut as we could not carry the 
 guns away, the men broke several ramrods in pieces and 
 used them as spikes. And then, as we were only two hun- 
 dred and the rebels numbered thousands, we made our way 
 back, unpursued by the enemy, but suffering much from the 
 fire of two guns in a garden opposite the Swiss Court, which 
 ploughed up our ranks with grape-shot and laid many a 
 poor fellow low.
 
 FOR HONOR 39 
 
 At this juncture a number of Marseillais, who had been 
 lurking about the palace, seeing that we were running short 
 of ammunition, issued from their hiding-places and attacked 
 us fiercel3^ These we charged and dispersed at the point 
 of the bayonet, and once more cleared the main court, which 
 by this time was covered with dead and wounded men, and 
 enveloped in so thick a cloud of smoke that we could scarce- 
 ly see. 
 
 As we re-entered the vestibule of the palace, still unpur- 
 sued, M. d'Hervilly (an officer of the old army, who was af- 
 terwards killed at Quiberon) came running bareheaded and 
 breathless. " His majesty wants you at the Assembly," he 
 gasped. " You are to go thither immediately." 
 
 " Good !" said Von Durler, and at once gave orders for 
 the men to be rallied for the retreat, and bade me run up- 
 stairs, inform my uncle, who commanded there, of the new 
 order, and tell him to descend into the vestibule, and form 
 his people in column for the march across the garden. 
 
 The arrangements for the retreat were made completely, 
 deliberately, and without confusion. Since we had driven 
 out the Marseillais, not an insurgent had dared to show 
 himself in the Cour Royale. Two of the captured guns, 
 which had not been discharged, were wheeled into the ves- 
 tibule, pointed towards the main gate, and placed in charge 
 of two grenadiers, who volunteered to remain behind and 
 use them against any of Santerre's men who should venture 
 into the court before we were clear of the building. It has 
 been said since that the "patriots," as they called themselves 
 (I call them cowardly cutthroats), captured the Tuileries. 
 It is not true. To take possession of an unoccupied house 
 is not to capture it. We had repulsed the attack at every 
 point, and our sole reason for withdraw^al was the king's 
 order. If Louis XVI. had remained with us, instead of going 
 to the Assembly and taking with him three hundred good
 
 40 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 soldiers (most of whom were afterwards basely murdered), 
 the French monarchy had not fallen on that fatal daj-, nei- 
 ther would his majesty have had to lay his head on the block 
 six months later. 
 
 Captain von Durler's column marched first, and no sooner 
 were they in the grounds than we of the rear- guard, who 
 were waiting a few minutes in order that none might be left 
 behind, heard a great shouting, followed on the instant by 
 the rattle of musketry. 
 
 " My God ! What on earth can that be ?" I cried in amaze. 
 
 " It is what I feared," said my uncle. " Those treacher- 
 ous scoundrels in the garden terraces who were to have 
 aided us in the defence are attacking Von Durler. We have 
 been fighting for honor, men" (raising his voice); "now we 
 shall have to fight for our lives. March !"
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 FOR LIFE 
 
 When we debouched into the garden, drums beating and 
 flags flying, the first column was some two or three hundred 
 yards ahead of us, and the National Guard who lined the 
 terraces and buildings to our right were mowing them down 
 with discharges of musketry, to which our men, having ex- 
 hausted their slender store of ammunition, were unable to 
 reply. Nevertheless they kept their ranks and marched as 
 steadily as if they were on parade. 
 
 When the rear-guard emerged from the palace they were 
 received in like manner. We were also attacked from be- 
 hind by some of the bolder spirits of Santerre's army, who 
 had stolen across the Cour Royale under cover of the smoke, 
 and gained the gardens by the vestibule of the Tuileries. 
 
 Like the first column, and for the same reason, we could 
 not reply. Men fell out every minute, and no sooner was a 
 man down than the wolfish sans-culottes finished him with 
 their pikes, stripped him, and cut off his head. The line of 
 retreat was strewn with naked, decapitated bodies. 
 
 When Von Durler's column reached the first fountain in 
 the great alley it wheeled to the right en foiite for the Na- 
 tional Assembly, to which access was gained by descending 
 a staircase and crossing a road. But the first column was 
 still nearly three hundred, the second nearly two hundred 
 strong, and as it would have taken a long time for so many 
 to defile through a narrow opening, and we should be ex- 
 posed all the while to a hot fire, our assailants being heavily 
 massed in that quarter, we continued our course down the
 
 42 lOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 great alley, M'ith the intention of passing into the Place Louis 
 XV., over the swinging bridge at the bottom of the garden, 
 whence we might reach the Assembly by the Rue St. Ho- 
 nore, or, if the way thither were barred, return to Courbevoie. 
 
 We were presently out of the bullet storm from the ter- 
 races, and the sans-culottes were too busily occupied with 
 despoiling our dead comrades to give us much trouble. 
 
 The brave fellows in the ranks, who had been greatly 
 discouraged by having to retreat and being unable to fight, 
 responded to the " Vorwdris r of their officers by giving a 
 cheer and breaking into a run. We hoped that our ordeal 
 was nearly over, but all felt that the sooner we were out of 
 the Tuileries gardens the better. 
 
 We were still going at the double-quick, and had nearly 
 reached the great octagon basin at the end of the great 
 alley when the bugler sounded a halt. 
 
 The men stopped and stood at ease. 
 
 " The swinging bridge is occupied in force," said Captain 
 von Astor. "Go on and reconnoitre, Fritz, you and Ser- 
 geant Sternberg. Keep as much in cover as you can." 
 
 The command was promptly obeyed. We crept from tree 
 to tree and from bush to bush, yet rapidly withal, until we 
 reached a point where, in order to reconnoitre effectually, 
 we had to show ourselves in the open." The occupiers of 
 the bridge and its approaches were National Guards, ranged 
 e}i bataille. They fired on us at sight. 
 
 This was enough. Wc hurried back to the main bodv and 
 reported what we had seen. I estimated the strength of the 
 enemy in sight at three to four hundred. 
 
 " No matter how many there are," said my uncle. *' We 
 must either cut our way through them, or stop here to be 
 made targets of first and have our heads cut off afterwards. 
 We are between two fires." 
 
 It was true ; the sans-culottes in our rear were creeping
 
 FOR LIFE 43 
 
 forward again and beginning to shoot at us from behind the 
 chestnut-trees. 
 
 A score or so of our fellows had still a cartridge, some 
 two cartridges, apiece, taken from the pouches of their dead 
 comrades and fallen foes. 
 
 These were placed in front, with instructions to reserve 
 their fire until they could see the whites of the Frenchmen's 
 e3^es, and after delivering it to charge. 
 
 I took this opportunity to tear from the staff the flag I 
 had been carrying and fasten it round my body. 
 
 Captain von Astor's plan was to draw the enemy's fire, 
 which he reckoned they would deliver as soon as we came 
 within range ; then, after pausing an instant, to let the first 
 line give them a volley in return, advance at the pas de 
 charge, and force the bridge at the point of the bayonet be- 
 fore the rebels had time to reload their pieces. 
 
 The plan was carried out to the letter. When my uncle 
 waved his sword and cried " Vonvdrts, meine Kinder P^ (For- 
 ward, my children), the men marched on with their muskets 
 at the trail. 
 
 The National Guard opened fire as we had expected, 
 but as we were in open order and the trees shielding us 
 somewhat, it was less destructive than it might have been. 
 A minute afterwards the first line delivered their volley, 
 and then, with a wild cheer, closed up and made for the 
 bridge. 
 
 It was our last chance, and a far more forlorn hope than 
 the fight for the guns in the Cour Royale. There were en- 
 emies in front of us, enemies behind us, enemies to the 
 right of us, enemies to the left of us, all well supplied with 
 ammunition, while we had none. 
 
 We went straight for the bridge, and with mien so reso- 
 lute that I believe the people immediately opposed to us 
 would have given way if they could ; but those in the rear
 
 44 FOR HOXOK AND LII'E 
 
 refusing to budge, the files in front were forced to fight, 
 and they fought as desperately as men do when they are 
 at bay. 
 
 Acting on a hint from one of my comrades, I emptied my 
 pistols before using my sword, and was so fortunate as to 
 drop an enemy to each shot. The next moment the press 
 became so great that I could not draw my sword. While I 
 was thus practically disarmed, a little Frenchman made a 
 thrust at me with his bayonet, and though I wriggled to 
 one side, it pierced the fleshy part of my thigh. Then it 
 was my turn. Laying my hands on his shoulders and 
 squeezing his windpipe with my thumbs I pushed him down 
 under the feet of the combatants, and there he lay, unable 
 to rise. Foes and friends were wedged together in a seem- 
 ingly inextricable mass, each party trying to thrust the 
 other back by main force, until Waldteufel, who towered a 
 full foot above the Frenchmen's heads, again clubbed his 
 musket, and after beating them to the ground, walked on 
 over their prostrate bodies. 
 
 For us who followed him the way was now comparatively 
 clear, and ten minutes after the first onset we were in the 
 Place Louis XV., but with terrible gaps in our ranks. While 
 the head of the column was forcing the bridge, those in the 
 rear were waging an unequal contest with the main body 
 of the National Guard, who poured volley after volley into 
 them, and, as no quarter was given, not one of ours lived 
 to tell the tale. 
 
 But it soon became apparent that we who survived had 
 escaped from one danger only to fall into another. At the 
 north side of the great square and hard by the Rue Royale 
 was a body of mounted gendarmes, whose duty it was, as 
 guardians of the peace, to join their strength to ours and 
 render us all the aid in their power. We formed and 
 marched in their direction, for that way lay the Rue St.
 
 FOR LIFE 45 
 
 Honore, which we should have to traverse in order to reach 
 the Assembly. 
 
 At the same time they marched towards us, as we hoped 
 with friendly intent, but when the foremost of them began 
 to unsling their carbines and shout, " Live the nation !" we 
 knew what to expect. 
 
 " Left wheel ! Quick march ! To the statue !" ordered 
 my uncle. 
 
 Then turning to me (the only officer of the rear-guard 
 besides himself left alive) he added : " Those rascals are 
 going to attack us, and as they have horses and cartridges 
 and we neither, they have us at their mercy. The pedestal 
 of the statue will afford us some little protection, and from 
 that point we must make a dash for the Champs-Elyse'es, 
 and scatter among the trees. It is our only chance. Are 
 your pistols loaded ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, take my advice, and use them only in the last 
 extremity — to save your life or another's. What have you 
 done with the flag ?" 
 
 " Torn it in pieces, and thrown the fragments away." 
 
 "Good! The traitors may murder us, but they will get 
 no trophies." 
 
 Meanwhile the gendarmes were nearing us, yet slowly 
 withal, and some hung back, as though they had not quite 
 made up their minds what to do. This was fortunate, for 
 had they charged resolutely we should have been cut down 
 to a man, being as yet not half-way across the square. 
 
 But soon the leaders, throwing hesitation aside, put their 
 horses to the trot, and when they were M-ithin range halted 
 and opened fire with their carbines, whereupon Captain 
 von Astor bade our fellows break their ranks, race for the 
 statue, and there rally. Several of them had gone down at 
 the first volley, others were killed or wounded by the way,
 
 46 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 and my dear lion-hearted uncle fell at the very foot of the 
 statue, shot through the back. 
 
 Kneeling down beside him, I raised his head and in- 
 quired whether he was much hurt. 
 
 "To the death," he murmured, "to the death. But I die 
 like a soldier, and the regiment — the regiment has done its 
 duty. Save yourselves as best you can — the Champs-Ely- 
 sees — take my pistols. Give my love to your father. Tell 
 him the regiment, the — honor of the regiment — " 
 
 These were Captain von Astor's last words. After kiss- 
 ing him I laid his head gently down, and, taking the pistols, 
 gave one to Sternberg, the other to \\'aldteufel. 
 
 Again our assailants held back, either because they were 
 moved by some feeling of compunction or conscience, or, 
 not being sure that we were without ammunition, feared to 
 come to close quarters. 
 
 Their hesitation might be our salvation. Not a moment 
 was to be lost 
 
 " To the Champs-Elysees !" I cried, " to the Champs- 
 Elysees ! Hide among the trees, and then every man for 
 himself. Scatter and run for your lives." 
 
 The poor fellows needed no second bidding. They went 
 off like a pack of hounds on a burning scent. I waited for 
 a few seconds, making it a point of honor to be the last. 
 To that momentary pause I probably owed my life. 
 
 When the gendarmes divined our object they started in 
 hot pursuit, some trying to overtake, others to intercept 
 the fugitives, who made the mistake of going too straight 
 and keeping too much together, a mistake which I avoided 
 by turning in another direction and then doubling. 
 
 I had been one of the best sprinters of my time at Ciggles- 
 wick, and felt sure that in a short run I could outpace the 
 coarse-bred, overweighted horses ridden by the gendarmerie, 
 and I luckily got a fair start before any of them singled me
 
 FOR LIFE 47 
 
 out for pursuit. But I no sooner set my face towards the 
 Fields than an officer of the corps, who had emerged from the 
 Cours de la Reine, turned his horse in the same direction, 
 with the evident intention of intercepting me. If he had come 
 straight on I might have evaded him by making another 
 double. Instead of that he took a line at right angles to 
 mine, and if we both went on it was inevitable that we should 
 meet at the apex of the triangle. We were nearing each other 
 every second, and, to make matters worse, a band of sans- 
 culottes, coming from the gardens, were after me in full cry. 
 
 Turning back or taking another course was therefore out 
 of the question. What should I do ? My first idea was to 
 slacken my pace, let my man come up, kill or disable his 
 horse with a pistol-shot, then run on and gain the Fields. 
 
 But this was to lose precious time. Moreover,, when I had 
 disabled the horse I should still have to deal with the rider, 
 and he was fresh and myself half-blown ; after him, with 
 the several other gendarmes who had joined in the chase, 
 to say nothing of the sans-culottes. 
 
 Then in my extremity I bethought me of another plan, a 
 plan which though bolder was no more hazardous and 
 promised better results. When my adversary and myself 
 came within a few yards of each other I feigned distress, ran 
 laboriously, stumbled and reeled as though I were quite ex- 
 hausted and could do no more. On this the gentleman 
 checked his horse and drew a pistol from his holster. But 
 as he was cocking it I whipped mine from my belt and gave 
 him a shot point blank which stopped further operations on 
 his part. Whether he was mortally or only slightly wounded 
 I never knew, for as he lurched forward, dropping his pistol, I 
 caught his bridle with one hand and his leg with the other, 
 threw him out of the saddle, and leaping into his place ■went 
 off at full gallop, followed by half a dozen gendarmes and the 
 bullets and blasphemies of a hundred howling sans-culottes.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 UP A TREE 
 
 My borrowed mount carried me splendidly. My pur- 
 suers were nowhere. The distance between us increased at 
 every stride of my horse, and I felt confident that, barring 
 accidents and the unforeseen, I should reach Courbevoie 
 without further trouble. 
 
 Unfortunately, as it appeared at the time— fortunately, as 
 it turned out — the unforeseen happened. Just as I was 
 congratulating myself on my good-luck and the way being 
 clear, I saw, turning into it from a side road near the 
 Arc de Triomphe de I'Etoile, a mob of at least two or 
 three hundred people, among whom were several horsemen. 
 In those days it was unsafe even for a quiet citizen to en- 
 counter a Paris mob. They might take exception to some- 
 thing in the cut of his clothes, or some peculiarity in his 
 bearing or his face, accuse him of being an aristocrat or a 
 spy, and either hale him to the nearest police-station, or 
 hang him out of hand. On that day of riot and rebellion 
 mobs were likely to be more truculent and blood-thirsty 
 than usual, and my appearance was decidedly against me. 
 I was hatless, black with powder and red will) blood, I 
 wore the hated uniform of the Swiss Guard, and behind me 
 were clattering the traitorous gendarmes. If there had 
 been only a score or so in front of me I might have charged 
 through them and taken my chance, but against two or 
 three hundred I should have no chance. 
 
 There was nothing for it but to take to the wood, and 
 evade my pursuers by dodging among the trees— if I could.
 
 UP A TREE 49 
 
 The moment I had thus decided I wheeled my horse to 
 the right and put him at one of the two ditches which at 
 that time bounded the main alley of the Champs-Elysees. 
 He did the jump gallantly, but as the trees and bushes ren- 
 dered progress on horseback difficult, I dismounted and 
 took to my feet, first appropriating the unhorsed officer's 
 remaining pistol. 
 
 But whither should I betake myself ? The gendarmes 
 and sans-culottes were not far off; the mob I had seen near 
 the Arc de Triomphe would doubtless join in the chase, and 
 the hoarse cries, mingled with occasional musket-shots tow- 
 ards the Place Louis XV., showed that some of my com- 
 rades had escaped into the Fields and were coming in 
 my direction, pursued by their ruthless foes. Moreover, the 
 Fields were of no great extent, every rod of the ground 
 w^ould be quested, every thicket explored, and to appear in 
 any of the contiguous thoroughfares were to court detection, 
 and detection meant death. 
 
 Whither should I betake myself? At any rate, it would 
 not do to stand still. The cutthroats whom I had just 
 evaded were within earshot— I could hear their shouts ; so 
 I went on, running where running was possible, walking and 
 creeping where it was not, dodging from bush to bush and 
 from tree to tree — in short, doing all I could to throw the 
 sleuth-hounds off the scent. But their cries, now loud, now 
 faint, then loud again, were ever in my ears. They seemed 
 to come from everywhere, and I twisted and turned like a 
 hunted hare. 
 
 At length I came to a wall, a garden wall. On the other 
 side might be safety. I would get over and throw myself 
 on the hospitality of the people who lived there, for where 
 there was a garden there must be a house. But the wall 
 was high — ten feet at least — and smooth, offering not a 
 vestige of foothold. Still, by a vigorous effort I might reach 
 4
 
 50 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 the top with my hands, raise myself up, and drop on the 
 other side. 
 
 I had come to this conclusion and was about to make 
 the attempt when I spied a door, half hidden by a bush. 
 
 If the door were open, or I could push it open ! 
 
 And then something like a miracle happened. The 
 door was drawn a few inches ajar, and at the opening ap- 
 peared the startled face of a young girl, an almost angelic 
 face, as it appeared to me at that moment. But the instant 
 she caught sight of me the door went to with a bang, and as 
 I bounded forward the bolts were shot into their sockets 
 and the key was turned in the lock. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, let me in !" I cried. " I am a 
 hunted man. Scores of sans-culottes and gendarmes are at 
 my heels, the wood is beset, and if I am caught I shall be 
 torn to pieces." 
 
 " O 7Jion Dieu ! But who are you ?" 
 
 " An officer of the Swiss Guard. Nearly all my comrades 
 have been murdered in the gardens and on the I'lace. Tlie 
 king has left the Tuileries — " 
 
 The door opened again. 
 
 " Enter ! Quick, quick, before they come !" said the 
 young girl, excitedly. 
 
 I needed no second bidding ; the next moment I was 
 inside, and the door was once more bolted and locked. 
 
 The young girl to whom I owed my life (for escape without 
 her help had been wellnigh, if not altogether, impossible) had 
 a face whose fascination and charm it were diflicult to exag- 
 gerate. Her eyes, shaded with long lashes, were large and 
 dark, her hair and strongly marked eyebrows black as night, 
 her features as clearly cut as those of a Greek cameo, and her 
 complexion was singularly delicate and pure. But what most 
 struck me was her expression, so full of sympathy and pity, 
 yet, considering the circumstances, strangely devoid of fear.
 
 UP A TREE 51 
 
 " Oh, you are wounded '" she said, compassionately. 
 
 In my excitement I had ahiiost forgotten the bayonet 
 wound in my thigh, and now observed for the first time that 
 my white breeches were stained with blood. I had also got 
 a cut on my head which, albeit slight, had bled freely, and I 
 dare say gave me a grewsome look. 
 
 "Not seriously," I answered, "and when I have rested 
 awhile, and the coast is clear and night falls, I shall be quite 
 able to walk to Courbevoie." 
 
 " But where shall I hide you meanwhile ? The servants 
 are not to be trusted, and if the miscreants should come — 
 and they are coming, don't you hear their shouts.? — if they 
 should search the house and find you there it would be 
 terrible for you, terrible for us all, and my mother is an 
 invalid." 
 
 "In that case I will go at once." 
 
 " No, no, a thousand times no ! What do you take me 
 for, monsieur ? Do you think a soldier's daughter could 
 refuse an asylum to a wounded officer who has been fight- 
 ing for the king ? And some gentlemen of the Swiss 
 Guard once rendered my Uncle Claude a great service. I 
 expect him here this night, and he will be able to devise 
 something. But the question is what to do now ? Where 
 to put you ?" 
 
 " Is there no out-house ?" 
 
 " Would you be safe in an out-house if those wretches 
 w^ere to make a search? Stay! I have it! I have it!" 
 clapping her hands with delight. " Charles II. of England 
 escaped from his enemies by hiding in an oak-tree ; why 
 should not you escape from yours by hiding in that chestnut- 
 tree ? From that bench you can easily reach the lower 
 branches and swing yourself up." 
 
 " The very thing !" I exclaimed. " How shall I thank 
 you enough, mademoiselle?"
 
 52 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " By mounting quickly. Don't you hear the shouts ? In 
 a few minutes your pursuers will be here. When they are 
 gone I shall let you know. Go, go, not another word !" 
 
 Yet another word I spoke, advising that, in the event of 
 the gendarmes demanding admission, they should be ad- 
 mitted without either delay or demur, and invited to satisfy 
 themselves by ocular demonstration that their suspicions 
 were baseless. 
 
 And then I climbed the tree, which was close at hand, a 
 splendid chestnut laden with leaves, where I was so well 
 hidden as to be invisible to the sharpest of eyes. Never- 
 theless as red is a conspicuous color, I took the precaution 
 to doff my scarlet coat and roll it up with the lining out- 
 ward. 
 
 After effacing with her pocket-handkerchief the marks left 
 by my feet on the bench, a piece of thoughtfulness which I 
 greatly admired, the young lady disappeared. 
 
 I had found a hiding-place none too soon. The gen- 
 darmes and, as I gathered from the noise they made, a con- 
 tingent of sans-culottes, were so near that I could hear their 
 exclamations and distinguish their words. 
 
 " He cannot be far off," said one. 
 
 " It is not five minutes since I saw him," observed an- 
 other. 
 
 " It is impossible for him to escape ; this side of the 
 Champs- Elysees is surrounded, and if he shows himself 
 outside he will be knocked on the head," added a third. 
 
 "A thousand thunders! Behold a garden wall ! Can he 
 have got over it ?" 
 
 " Out of the question ; it is too high." 
 
 " But here is a door, and sacre nam ile Dim, here is a foot- 
 mark, his footmark!" 
 
 "Whose house is it? Run to the front door — this is 
 locked — some of you, and demand admission, while we
 
 UP A TREE 53 
 
 watch here ; surround the garden and guard every exit. 
 We will have him yet, the cursed Swiss! They say he killed 
 twenty patriots with his own hand, and I am afraid he has 
 done for our brigadier." 
 
 And then the talk ceased or became inaudible, but pres- 
 ently there was an irruption into the garden from the front. 
 Gendarmes and sans-culottes, of whom I caught occasional 
 glimpses, were all over the place, searching every thicket 
 and looking behind every shrub and bush. 
 
 Though I knew I was invisible, I could not help feeling 
 nervous, and when they passed under the chestnut-tree I 
 drew myself into as small a compass as possible and kept 
 as still as a mouse, for the slightest movement would have 
 betrayed me. 
 
 When the miscreants failed to find me they vented their 
 disappointment in curses both loud and deep. 
 
 " He must be here. Where can he be else ?" said one 
 who appeared to be in authority. 
 
 "Hiding outside, perhaps. Anyhow, I'll take my oath 
 he isn't here." 
 
 " We have sought everywhere, and questioned the ser- 
 vants; and it is easy to see from their manner that they 
 have seen naught of him." 
 
 " But how about the footmarks .''" 
 
 " How do you know they are the footmarks of this Swiss ? 
 And footmarks outside do not prove either that he got 
 over the wall or came in at the door. No, my friend, we 
 are on a wrong scent, and the sooner we acknowledge the 
 fact and act on it the better." 
 
 After a brief conference, held under the chestnut-tree, 
 it was decided to continue the quest in the Champs- Ely- 
 sees and post a sentry at every corner of the garden, with 
 orders to keep a sharp lookout, and if I appeared to shoot 
 me at sight.
 
 54 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 A pleasant prospect this ! It was evident that I could 
 not get away before dark, which meant that I should have 
 to remain where I was for at least eight or nine hours. But 
 that was better than being shot at sight or hanged a la 
 lantenie, and when I thought how many of my poor com- 
 rades had been maimed or killed on that fatal day I 
 esteemed myself highly fortunate, and with all my heart 
 thanked God for his goodness in delivering me from so 
 many dangers. 
 
 And then, so great was my exhaustion, so soothing the 
 gentle breeze which murmured among the leaves, that de- 
 spite my constrained position, the smarting of my wounds, 
 and the bitterness of my thoughts, I fell into a doze, from 
 which I was awakened by nearly falling from my porch. 
 At the same time I heard a light footstep in the garden, 
 and, looking down, spied my hostess coming leisurely tow- 
 ards the tree. In one hand she carried what appeared to 
 be a large basket, in the other, a slender cane. Now and 
 then she stopped for a moment and looked round, and 
 after, as might appear, having satisfied herself that there 
 were no interlopers in the garden or peeping over the wall, 
 she sat down on the bench, and taking a piece of work out 
 of the basket, began to knit or embroider — in seeming for- 
 getfulness that the fugitive whom she had saved was astride 
 a branch a few feet above her head.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ANGELIQUE 
 
 After the knitting had gone on for a few minutes, my 
 fair neighbor raised her head and whispered a word which 
 I failed to hear. Then she raised her voice a little, and 
 by listening intently I made out that the word was " Mon- 
 
 sieur." 
 
 "Yes, mademoiselle," I answered, descending a branch 
 or two, and also whispering. 
 
 " SjDeak low, please. I have sharp ears. They are gone, 
 those wicked people. They were not so bad as they might 
 have been ; they contented themselves with searching the 
 garden and the lower rooms ; but four are on "guard out- 
 side, one at each corner of the garden, so we must be very 
 cautious. Are you listening, monsieur ?" 
 
 " Most attentively, mademoiselle." 
 
 " Good ! Now listen still more attentivel}'. At the end 
 of this cane, which I am going to give you, is a cord. You 
 must take one end of it in your hand and pull up something 
 which I shall fasten to the other end. Now ! Have you 
 got it?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Good again ! Now, when I say 'Pull,' pull, but gently 
 withal, for I am fastening to the cord a bag which contains 
 half a roast fowl, half a loaf, and half a bottle of Bor- 
 deaux." 
 
 " O mademoiselle ! I thank you a thousand times. How 
 can I repay ?" 
 
 " By pulling up the bag. Now ! Pull !"
 
 56 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 I pulled accordingly, and set to work on the contents of 
 the bag with the appetite of a hungry man, for I had eaten 
 hardly any breakfast, the exertions and excitement of the 
 last few hours had tired me out, and I was faint with fa- 
 tigue and loss of blood. 
 
 In little more than ten minutes the wine, the bread, and 
 the roast fowl were gone, and with them went my weakness 
 and fatigue. I felt like another man. 
 
 " Have you had enough ?" asked the young lady as I low- 
 ered the bag, into which I had put the empty bottle and 
 the fragments of my repast. 
 
 " Quite, I thank you. And now won't you tell me to 
 Avhoni I am indebted for all this kindness ?" 
 
 " My name is Marie Angelique de la Tour ; but here in 
 Paris we call ourselves only Tour, my mother and I. And 
 you, monsieur?" 
 
 " My name is Von Astor, or D'Astor, as we were called in 
 the regiment, my poor uncle and I. Eut I think we had 
 better dispense with the particle for the present." 
 
 "You are right. An aristocratic name is dangerous in 
 these times. You spoke of your poor uncle — I hope no 
 harm has befallen him." 
 
 " My uncle. Captain von Astor, of the regiment, was killed 
 little more than an hour ago, at the foot of the statue in 
 the Place Louis XV." 
 
 "O uwn Dicti, how terrible! And my poor father, he 
 also was killed, though he had fought for France in seven 
 campaigns and received as many wounds. But your uncle 
 died for the king ; it was a noble death." 
 
 " His death did not serve the king, mademoiselle. The 
 king had already surrendered to the enemy. My uncle 
 died for honor, and, as you say, it was a noble death." 
 
 " May God keep his soul in peace ! It is better to die 
 nobly than to live ignobly. But I must leave you, mon-
 
 ANGELIQUE 57 
 
 sieur. It were imprudent to remain longer. I am afraid 
 you will have to stay where you are until nightfall. I shall 
 make a confidant of Paul Tremblay, my father's old soldier- 
 servant. He is as good as gold, and quite trustworthy. I 
 shall send him to you after a while, perhaps you and he will 
 be able to hit upon a plan. And, as I said before, I expect 
 a visit from my Uncle Claude. He, too, is in danger, and I 
 am always in fear for him. But he is very clever and re- 
 sourceful, and you may count confidently on my help. Au 
 revoir, monsieur." 
 
 *^ Au revoir, mademoiselle," I returned, and then she 
 gathered up her work, put the bag into her basket, and 
 walked slowly and with pensive mien towards the house, 
 and I was left once more to the companionship of my 
 thoughts. 
 
 I had not been in bed for two nights, and fearing that I 
 might again be overcome with sleep and, peradventure, fall 
 out of the tree, I buckled my sword-belt loosely round a 
 stout branch and passed my arm through the loop. 
 
 It was a wise precaution, for despite my efforts to keep 
 awake I did fall asleep, dreamed that I was being guillo- 
 tined, and awoke with my neck bending over a bough and 
 my legs dangling in the air. For a few seconds I could not 
 recall where I was nor what had happened. 
 
 A man was under the tree, plying a broom. As I opened 
 my eyes he looked up and said in a low, gruff voice : 
 
 " Monsieur Astor, are you still there ?" 
 
 Evidently the old soldier-servant of whom Mademoiselle 
 de la Tour had spoken. Only from her could he have 
 learned my name. 
 
 " I am still here," I answered. 
 
 " I called several times, and as you did not answer I be- 
 gan to fear you were gone." 
 
 " I was asleep."
 
 58 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " Asleep, when half Paris is thirsting for your blood ! I 
 admire your courage, monsieur." 
 
 " Half Paris thirsting for my blood ! What do you mean ?" 
 
 " Yours, and the blood of every Swiss guardsman in the 
 city. They are being hunted like mad dogs, the few who 
 survive. The sans-culottes have even killed several Swiss 
 porters. If one has an enemy whom he wishes to destroy 
 it is enough to denounce him as a Swiss." 
 
 " That is the talk, I suppose ?" 
 
 "I am afraid it is the truth, monsieur." 
 
 I did not think so. I thought Tremblay was exaggerat- 
 ing, but as nothing was to be gained by arguing the point I 
 changed the subject by inquiring whether the sentinels had 
 been withdrawn. 
 
 " I don't know about being withdrawn — those fellows are 
 under no sort of discipline. But they are gone." 
 
 " The coast is clear, then ?" 
 
 " I suppose so," dubiously. " All the same, it would not 
 be safe for monsieur to leave before dark, and even then it 
 would be as much as monsieur's life is worth to wear his 
 uniform." 
 
 " Could you lend or sell me some of your clothes ?" 
 
 " With pleasure. It was what I was going to propose — a 
 blouse and -x paiitalon.^^ 
 
 " And an old hat." 
 
 " Perfectly, and an old hat. And if you will descend 
 from the tree you can go into my tool-house. It is not 
 precisely a drawing-room, but I think you will find it better 
 than a perch. On the other side, please, and then nobody 
 can see you from the house." 
 
 I climbed down with some difficulty, for my legs were 
 stiff and my wound was painful. 
 
 " Slip behind the laurels, and then straight on," continued 
 Trcmblnv.
 
 ANGELIQUE 59 
 
 I limped in the direction indicated, followed by the 
 friendly gardener. 
 
 The tool-house, though, as he had observed, not exactly 
 a drawing - room, was a vast improvement on the tree. 
 There was a rough table, also a damaged rustic chair, 
 which, with the help of an empty sack that lay on the floor, 
 could be converted into a comfortable couch. 
 
 It was a place one might pass the night in. 
 
 From a cupboard in which he kept his seeds Tremblay 
 produced a blouse and a pair of trousers. 
 
 " Is there anything else I can get for you ?" he asked. 
 " I will bring you a hat presently." 
 
 " You are very good. Yes, I should like a pail of water, 
 a towel, soap, and, if possible, something to bind up this 
 wound in my thigh. I don't want it to begin bleeding 
 again." 
 
 " I will ask mademoiselle The maids would wonder 
 what on earth I wanted with a towel and soap, and might 
 ask questions which I should find it hard to answer." 
 
 Whereupon the old soldier hurried off, and after a short 
 absence returned with soap, towel, bandages, lint, plaster, a 
 pair of scissors, and a hat. 
 
 " Mademoiselle thinks of everything," he said, admiring- 
 ly. " My faith, she has got an old head on young shoulders, 
 and not without need, for she has all the care." 
 
 " But her mother ?" 
 
 " Her mother is one of her cares, monsieur. Mademoi- 
 selle desired me to ask whether you wanted anything more." 
 
 " Nothing, thank you, only when you see her say how 
 grateful I am for her kindness." 
 
 And then I had a good wash, and with Tremblay's help 
 bound up my wounded thigh and plastered the cut on my 
 head. When I had donned his coat and trousers he took 
 up a part of the floor and placed underneath it my sword
 
 6o FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 and outer garments. He would also have concealed my pis- 
 tols, but as they could be hidden under my blouse and 
 might be useful, I preferred to keep them. 
 
 Before he went away Tremblay advised me on no account 
 to quit my refuge. The visit of the gendarmes had made 
 the servants frantic with fear, and if they caught a glimpse 
 of me they would leave the house at once and, as likely as 
 not, denounce us to the police. At any rate, they would 
 make no secret of what they had seen. 
 
 "And then," added Tremblay, "we should all be arrested 
 — or worse." 
 
 I told him that he need be under no apprehension, that I 
 should not stir until dark, nor even then unless I liad his 
 assurance that I could leave unobserved. 
 
 When he was gone I arranged the sack as a cushion and 
 made myself comfortable. The repast, the sleep, the wash, 
 and the dressing of my wounds had made me feel like 
 another man. But mentally I was ill at ease. The events 
 of the day weighed heavily on my mind, and I grieved 
 sorely for my lost comrades and my murdered uncle. I 
 feared that I was the sole survivor of the rear column, and 
 with good reason. But for the horse and the open door 
 and the kindness of Mademoiselle de la Tour I could not 
 have escaped. Was it likely that any of the others had 
 been equally fortunate .'' 
 
 And Von Durler's people ! Had any of them succeeded 
 in reaching the Assembly ? And then how fared the king 
 and queen and the column commanded by Von Salis ? Had 
 tlic royal family and their escort been destroyed by the 
 treachery of the National Guard and the fury of the popu- 
 lace } The thought made me shudder, yet the possibility 
 was undeniable. 
 
 But the most pressing question at the moment — for me — 
 was whither I should go when I left my present refuge. I
 
 ANGELIQUE 6 1 
 
 could not risk compromising the sweet girl who had helped 
 me in my need by staying a moment longer than was needful. 
 Among the few people whom I knew in Paris were none 
 whom I could ask to take me in at the peril of their lives. 
 
 After long thought, and pondering various projects, I 
 came to the conclusion that only one was feasible — to re- 
 turn to Courbevoie. True, I had no papers, but disguised 
 as a workman I might pass the barrier unquestioned, and 
 once outside Paris I hoped I should be safe. 
 
 We had left at the barracks a corporal's guard and three 
 or four invalids, among the latter Glutz, who was laid up 
 with a badly sprained ankle and had been compelled to 
 stay behind, greatly to his disappointment. But it was well 
 for him that he had stayed behind , his presence could have 
 made no difference in the result, and he would almost cer- 
 tainly have lost his life. 
 
 Yes, I would try to get to Courbevoie. I had two hun- 
 dred louis d'or there, which would be more than enough to 
 enable Glutz and myself to make our way to England, even 
 though I had to buy horses and a carriage and charter a 
 boat for the passage of the Channel. 
 
 This I planned and much else which it is not necessary 
 to relate, and I was still deep in thought when I was 
 roused from my reverie by the sound of approaching foot- 
 steps. I had sharp ears in those days and could identify a 
 footfall as unerringly as I could recognize a voice, and these 
 were neither the footsteps of Mile, de la Tour nor of Paul 
 Tremblay. They were too heavy to be hers, too light to 
 be his. Yet only he and she knew where I was. It might 
 be one of the maids — or an enemy. I could not fasten the 
 door, it possessed neither bolt nor bar , so by way of being 
 prepared for whatever might befall, I cocked my pistols, 
 laid them ready to hand, armed myself with a spade, set 
 my back against the wall, and awaited the issue.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 A SURPRISE 
 
 When the door of the tool-house opened, and there ap- 
 peared on the threshold a soberly attired, slightly built gen- 
 tleman, with black whiskers, blue spectacles, and powdered 
 hair, his only weapon a clouded cane, I felt rather foolish, 
 and put the spade down. 
 
 " Good-day, Monsieur Astor," he said, doffing his hat 
 and making a courtly bow. Then, observing the pistols, he 
 added, with a smile ; " You are prepared for all eventuali- 
 ties, I see. It is well. But I am a man of peace. Don't 
 you recognize me ?" 
 
 " How should I recognize a gentleman whom I see for 
 the first time ?" 
 
 "Not for the first time. I had the pleasure of making 
 your acquaintance a few weeks ago." 
 
 And with that my visitor removed his spectacles. 
 
 " Is it possible ?" I asked, regarding him with a bewil- 
 dered stare. " If whiskers like those grew in a month, I 
 should say you were Monsieur Boulanger." 
 
 "They can grow in a moment, and disappear as quickly" 
 (removing the whiskers). 
 
 The ex- vicomte, beyond a doubt; and looking much 
 younger than he did on the night when he so narrowly 
 missed being hanged, 
 
 " I am delighted to meet you again," said I; "but how 
 did you know I was here ?" 
 
 "I had the pleasure of learning the fact from my niece. 
 Mademoiselle Tour."
 
 A SURPRISE 63 
 
 " So ! You are Uncle Claude." 
 
 " I have that honor; sir, and it is an honor to be the 
 uncle of so brave and good a girl as Angelique." 
 
 " If she were not both good and brave, my head would 
 just now be at the end of a pike. She saved my life, Mon- 
 sieur Boulanger." 
 
 " And you saved mine." 
 
 " So we are quits." 
 
 " Not at all. Angelique could not have acted otherwise, 
 and I count myself still your debtor. . . . Ah, this has been 
 a terrible day, my friend — a day marked by only one re- 
 deeming feature; the heroism and devotion of the Swiss 
 Guard. I take shame to myself that I did not fight by 
 your side and share in your danger. But I reached Paris 
 only at noon, and it was then too late. Were you aware of 
 a project for carrying off the king and the royal family .^"' 
 
 " I have heard rumors without end, but nothing defi- 
 nite." 
 
 " Well, there was a scheme, and a very promising one -, but 
 as it has failed, my lips are unsealed, and I can tell you all 
 about it. In point of fact, the attempt was never seriously 
 made, else it had surely succeeded. The plan was for the 
 royal family to leave the Tuileries at night, escorted by the 
 Swiss Guard, and make for Rouen, whither three hundred 
 men of the regiment were sent four days ago, ostensibly to 
 assist in the collection of taxes, really to co-operate in the 
 movement. Moreover, the people of Normandy are well 
 affected to the king, and there is a regiment of regulars at 
 Rouen which would have taken his part, and from thence 
 we might have gone to Dieppe, and from Dieppe to Eng- 
 land. His majesty was quite willing, but at the last minute 
 the queen persuaded her husband to withdraw his consent. 
 It was in connection with this project that I left Paris 
 three days ago."
 
 64 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " I suppose the queen thought that resistance would be 
 nobler than flight." 
 
 " Partly for that reason, partly because she suspected 
 Monsieur de Lafayette had a hand in the scheme, and 
 Monsieur de Lafayette is a gentleman whom she distrusts. 
 I, too, think that resistance would have been nobler than 
 flight. But we knew that when it came to the point the 
 king would not resist, and we had reason to believe that the 
 National Guard would join the rebels; that, in short, the only 
 means of saving him was to get him away. Now it is too 
 late. But even yet I do not abandon hope, and a few of us, 
 royalists like myself, are resolved to rescue the royal cap- 
 tives at all hazards. And now, my friend, about yourself; 
 for I dare say you know your life hangs by a thread." 
 " When night comes I shall go to Courbevoie." 
 " How about the barrier }" 
 " With this disguise — " 
 
 "You think you may slip through. Possibly. But they 
 are very strict at the barriers, and inability to produce a 
 passport, if you are asked for one, will insure your imme- 
 diate arrest, and probably your immediate execution. You 
 had better lie perdu \\\ Paris for a few days ; and I engage 
 to find you a hiding-place." 
 
 I thanked AL Boulanger for his kindness, but persisted 
 in my idea of returning to the barracks. 
 
 " Well, you can try ; but I fear it will be a case of out of 
 the frying-pan into the fire. I would lend you my passport, 
 which, by the way, is forged, only as it describes my personal 
 appearance rather minutely, and you are fair and long, and 
 I am dark and short, it would do you more harm than 
 good. You might remain here — " 
 
 " That is quite out of the question. Not for the world 
 will I expose these ladies to any further risk. They have 
 done more than enough for me already."
 
 A SURPRISE 65 
 
 " I was going to say you would not be safe here. You 
 were marked down to the garden door, and there may be a 
 domiciliary visit any moment, and both for their sakes and 
 your own you must get away quickly. And there are other 
 reasons. My sister is an invalid, and already in bad odor 
 with the Jacobins, whose victory to-day will make them 
 more vicious than ever. Twelve months ago my late 
 brother-in-law committed the unpardonable crime of firing 
 on the people— in defence of his life and property — and 
 was shortly afterwards murdered in his wife's presence. 
 She has never recovered from the shock ; her nervous sys- 
 tem is quite unstrung, and she seldom stirs from her room. 
 Since that time Angelique has had entire charge of the 
 house — of everything, in fact — -and well she manages, 
 and nobly she bears the burden. Though not yet seventeen, 
 she is older in experience and character than many who are 
 twice her age. It is all wrong, of course. According to our 
 French ideas, young girls should be allowed neither initia- 
 tive nor freedom, much less be placed at the head of a 
 household. But what would 3'ou.^ Need must when the 
 devil drives, as your English proverb has it, and times like 
 these make strong natures stronger, weak natures weaker. 
 After her father's death she and her mother left their 
 country-house and came hither. They live very quietly, 
 both from necessity and choice. The revolution has seri- 
 ously impaired my sister's fortune." 
 
 " Do you live with them ?" 
 
 " My faith, no ! I am a marked man. I only escape 
 arrest by adopting disguises and continually changing my 
 quarters. Here I am known as Dr. Boul anger, and my 
 visits are strictly professional. By the way, my patient's 
 daughter has invited us to sup with them this evening." 
 
 " Do you mean that I am included in the invitation ?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 5
 
 G6 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 "But—" 
 
 " Oh, the ladies will excuse your costume. One does not 
 stand on ceremony nowadays." 
 
 " But will it be safe — for them .?" 
 
 " I think so. The sun is already beginning to set. When 
 it is a little lower you will slip in at one of the ground- 
 floor windows, which I shall point out to you. Trcmblay, 
 who can turn his hand to anything, waits at table. None 
 of the other servants will know that you are in the house. 
 You will come, of course ? Good ! Now behold ! In an 
 hour from this time turn into that path, and follow it to the 
 end, when you will find yourself opposite a long window 
 with two wings which will be left ajar. Go in Avithout 
 knocking, sit down and wait. Only — and this is impor- 
 tant — if there is a light in the room, remain in the shrubber\- 
 until it is removed." 
 
 " I must regard the light as a danger signal." 
 
 " Precisely. And now I shall say good-bye for the pres- 
 ent. I am going outside to see whether the coast is clear, 
 and ascertain, if I can, what these ruffians propose to do 
 with the king and queen, and those of your comrades whom 
 they have not already destroyed. ... In an hour, remem- 
 ber ; and till then, good-bye." 
 
 It seemed a long hour, for my thoughts were not happy, 
 and I was getting weary of inaction and suspense ; but it 
 came to an end, and at the time appointed "by M. Boulanger 
 I was at the window which he had described to me. After 
 pausing for a moment to make sure that I was not observed, 
 I pushed the window open and went in, and was about to 
 sit down when I heard the rustling of a gown. 
 
 "Monsieur Astor?" said a voice which I recognized as 
 that of the daughter of the house. 
 
 "The same, mademoiselle, at your service." 
 
 " Will you give yourself the trouble to come this way.
 
 A SURPRISE 67 
 
 monsieur?" opening a door wliich seemed to lead into a 
 dark passage. 
 
 I followed her; at the end of the passage she opened 
 another door, and I found myself in a spacious drawing- 
 room, handsomely furnished, but rather dimly lighted. The 
 table was laid for dinner with covers for three, from which 
 I inferred that either Mme. de la Tour or her brother was 
 not to be of the party. 
 
 "Isn't Dr. Boulanger coming?" I asked. 
 
 " He will be here in a few minutes. But I am sorry to 
 say my mother is not able to dine with us this evening." 
 
 Just then I happened to glance at my reflected image in 
 one of the mirrors that adorned the room, and was both 
 amused and annoyed at the figure I cut in my borrowed 
 clothes. I had never worn trousers before, and besides 
 being shabby, Tremblay's nether garments were a world too 
 short for me. Moreover, in addition to being equally shabby, 
 the blouse by no means set off my figure to advantage. 
 
 Mile, de la Tour seemed to guess my thoughts. 
 
 " It is a very effectual disguise," she said, with an amused 
 smile. " But hadn't you better dispense with those gaiters 
 before you venture outside ? They have a suspiciously 
 military look, and gardeners don't generally wear hair pow- 
 der, I think." 
 
 " You are quite right, and I am very stupid. Yes, white 
 buckskin gaiters and a powdered poll would betray me to 
 the first gendarme I met. I must dispense with both before 
 I set out for Courbevoie. Ah, here comes your uncle." 
 
 As he entered the room, followed by Tremblay, M. Bou- 
 langer gave me a friendly greeting and spoke a word to his 
 niece ; but he looked unusually grave, as though he had 
 bad news. 
 
 When we were all seated, he asked Tremblay whether he 
 had taken every precaution.
 
 68 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 "I think so," answered the old soldier; " the dogs are on 
 guard, and if anybody approaches the front gate will give 
 the alarm in ample time to enable monsieur (glancing at 
 me) to return to his tree. The maids haven't the least 
 suspicion that you are not the only guest ;. I accounted for 
 the third cover by saying that Madame de la Tour would 
 probably come down to dinner," 
 
 " Nobody suspects anything, we cannot be taken by sur- 
 prise. So far good, if anything can be good on this dis- 
 astrous day." 
 
 " What has happened beyond what we know, uncle ?" 
 asked Angelique, anxiously. " That is bad enough." 
 
 " Worse has happened. Colonel Maillardoz, IMajor Bach- 
 mann, and the other officers and soldiers of the Swiss Guard 
 who escorted the king to the Assembly were arrested on 
 their arrival thither, and are now in prison. When the 
 remnant of Captain von Durler's column reached the same 
 place the king actually gave them a written order to lay 
 down their arms, which they had no sooner done than they, 
 too, were imprisoned. The soldiers who refused to sur- 
 render were massacred on the spot." 
 
 *' If I had been the King of France, I would have died 
 rather than give such an order !" exclaimed Angelique, 
 warmly. 
 
 " My poor comrades !" said I, in a broken voice, for my 
 heart was full. " And the regiment so brave and loyal ! 
 All save the few who have escaped for the moment, the 
 handful at Courbevoie and the detachment in Normandy, 
 dead or in prison !" 
 
 " For which you have to thank his majesty. Uncle 
 Claude, I do believe he is a poltroon." 
 
 Dr. Boulanger looked inexpressibly shocked. 
 
 " Hush ! For Heaven's sake hush, Angelique ! You must 
 not defame the king," he said, severely. " Besides, he is
 
 A SURPRISE 69 
 
 not a poltroon. Think what courage he showed when the 
 sans-culottes invaded the Tuileries." 
 
 " Yes, the passive courage of a spiritless woman. No 
 man worthy the name would have surrendered to a mob, 
 and ordered his brave defenders to lay down their arms. 
 Oh, I don't pity him at all. But I do with all my heart 
 pity the queen. Poor queen, to be tied to a — " 
 
 " Angelique !" interrupted her uncle, warningly. 
 
 " Well, I won't call him a poltroon again, though he is 
 one all the same. But you must admit that Louis XVI. is 
 a very poor specimen of a king." 
 
 " He is a king no longer, except by divine right." 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 " They have decreed the dethronement, and the king and 
 the royal family are to be imprisoned in the Temple." 
 
 " And afterwards ?" 
 
 " Heaven only knows. Probably the block." 
 
 " My God ! You surely don't think they will guillotine 
 the queen .''" 
 
 " Indeed I do, unless we can rescue her." 
 
 " Will that be possible ?" 
 
 " Everything is possible for resolute men with a good 
 cause." 
 
 And then followed a long silence. The ex-vicomte, though 
 he ate little, drank freely, but the wine seemed only to 
 deepen his gloom. I, too, drank more than my wont- eating 
 was out of the question. Angelique's beautiful face was 
 overcast with the sadness of her thoughts, and a tear trem- 
 bled on her long eyelashes — in sorrow for her father or 
 pity for the queen — not, I felt sure, for the king. Though so 
 young, she was tall and well grown, and the simplicity of 
 her attire showed her good taste as much as it heightened 
 her charms. Her only ornaments were a diamond mourn- 
 ing-ring on one of her slender fingers, and a red rose at
 
 7>0 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 her breast ; and her dark eyes and still darker eyebrows, 
 fair skin and peach-Uke complexion, matched well with her 
 hair, powdered for the evening in the fashion of the day. 
 
 After the silence had endured several minutes, it was 
 broken with startling effect by the loud baying of the watch- 
 dogs at the gate. 
 
 Angelique gave a little scream. 
 
 "Go and see what it is," said Dr. Boulanger to Tremblay, 
 who at this moment entered the room. "And you. Mon- 
 sieur Astor, had better resume your perch for a few minutes. 
 If it is a false alarm I will whistle." 
 
 I obeyed on the instant; but I had no sooner climbed up 
 to my old place than the preconcerted signal recalled me to 
 the house. 
 
 " It was a false alarm, then ?" I observed to Boulanger. 
 
 " In a sense ; that is to say, there has been no demand 
 for admission, but Tremblay reports that a suspicious look- 
 ing individual is loitering about the gate — probably a spy." 
 
 " In that case, it would probably be as well for me to go 
 at once." 
 
 " I almost think so. You are still minded to go to 
 Courbevoie .''" 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "The barracks may be attacked." 
 
 " All the more reason I should be there to take a hand 
 in their defence." 
 
 " Spoken like a brave man. I shall bear you company as 
 far as the barrier and see how you fare. If you get into a 
 difficulty I may be able to help you out. What name do 
 you propose to give yourself ?" 
 
 " Let me see ! You are a Baker, I will be Butcher." 
 
 " Good ! Your name for the nonce is Anatole Boucher. 
 Now listen : I shall leave by the front gate, and as Tremblay 
 lets me out he will say, 'Good-night, Monsieur le Docteur,'
 
 A SURPRISE 71 
 
 in a voice loud enough to be heard by the spy, whom I shall 
 accost and keep in conversation for a minute or two. In 
 the meanwhile you will leave by the side door, and take the 
 path to the right which leads into the main road, where I 
 shall presently join you. Go at your ease, and don't look 
 behind you. There may be other spies about, and the best 
 way to throw those fellows off the scent is to appear uncon- 
 scious of their presence. Are you armed ?" 
 
 "I have a pair of pistols under my blouse." 
 
 " You may need a weapon that can be used without mak- 
 ing a noise, and does not require reloading." 
 
 As Dr. Boulanger spoke he whipped into the hall and 
 returned with a broad-bladed dagger in a shagreen scabbard. 
 
 " Take that ; it may serve you in good stead before this 
 time to-morrow," said he. 
 
 I thanked him, and put the dagger inside my blouse. 
 
 " And now I had better set off," he added. " If you leave 
 by the side door, in three or four minutes we shall meet in 
 the avenue. But be careful neither to loiter, hurry, nor look 
 back." 
 
 " And those gaiters and your hair ?" observed Angelique, 
 when her uncle was gone. 
 
 " Will you allow me ?" I asked. 
 
 " Of course. This is no time for standing on ceremony, 
 and you have no time to lose." 
 
 I doffed the telltale gaiters, and, taking a napkin from 
 the table, rubbed the powder out of my hair, which, fortu- 
 nately, was short. 
 
 This done, I bade Angelique good-bye. 
 
 " Heaven only knows whether we shall meet again !" I 
 said, in a voice tremulous with the emotion which I could 
 not conceal. " But while I live I shall never forget this 
 night, and that to your kindness and hospitality I owe my 
 escape from a great danger."
 
 72 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 "And it will always be a pleasure to me to think," she 
 answered, "that it has been my good-fortune to render a 
 service to a brave soldier, who not long ago rendered a still 
 greater service to my dear uncle.'' 
 
 Then we shook hands, and three minutes later I was out- 
 side tlie garden.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 TEN HEADS 
 
 It was a beautiful night, calm and windless ; and though 
 there was no light of the moon, the stars were so bright and 
 the air so clear that, save where the trees intercepted the 
 view, I could see a fair distance, both front and rear, for, 
 notwithstanding my mentor's injunctions, I did once look 
 backward, and, as I expected, saw nobody. 
 
 Then I went on at an easy pace, and was soon so deeply 
 absorbed in thought that my walk became automatic, and 
 when somebody touched me on the shoulder I did what 
 startled people generally do, obeyed the first impulse, which, 
 in this instance, was to wheel round and seize the intruder 
 by the throat. 
 
 "Not so fast," said M. Boulanger, who seemed as much 
 surprised at feeling my hand at his windpipe as I had been 
 at feeling his on my shoulder. " I congratulate you on 
 your alertness, but I would rather you displayed it for the 
 confusion of your enemies than the bewilderment of j^our 
 friends." 
 
 " I was not alert. If I had been I should have heard 
 your footsteps." 
 
 " Well, I did step rather softly, with the intention of sur- 
 prising you. I shall not repeat the experiment, and you 
 were justified in resenting that touch , it was too sugges- 
 tive." 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 " Handcuffs, a dungeon, the guillotine, according to cir- 
 cumstances. A touch on the shoulder is the usual prelimi-
 
 74 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 nar}' to an arrest. Tremblay was right; that fellow was a 
 spy, and unless I am mistaken I caught a glimpse of a 
 second." 
 
 '• Whom are they after, do you suppose ?" 
 
 " One of us ; that goes without saying. Either they im- 
 agine that the Swiss officer, who so mysteriously evaded the 
 gendarmes, maybe hiding in or about the house, or suspect 
 that the ci-devant Vicomte de Lancy pays occasional visits 
 to his sister, and, as you are aware, the police are very 
 anxious to lay that gentleman by the heels." 
 
 " Did you accost the scoundrel V^ 
 
 " Of course, and had a talk with him. He pretended that 
 he had lost his way, asked whose house it was I had just 
 quitted, and when I told him, said he had heard the lady 
 was not well, and made several inquiries, to which I gave 
 suitable answers." 
 
 " And you don't suppose he suspected who you were ?" 
 
 " If he had I should not be here just now. But it is clear 
 that unless my visits to the Villa de la Tour are few and far 
 between I shall be suspected. And now about Courbevoie. 
 It is a dangerous enterprise on which you are bent, Mon- 
 sieur Astor, The guards at the barriers have all been 
 doubled since morning; they are very much on the qinvive, 
 and eager to catch any fugitive Swiss who may have escaped 
 the massacre, and if you are arrested you will be a lost 
 man." 
 
 "Nobody can recognize me in these clothes." 
 
 " Perhaps not; but if you are arrested you will be searched, 
 and a soi-disant gardener, with a brace of pistols and a dag- 
 ger under his belt, would find it difficult to convince his 
 captors that he was what he pretended to be. He would be 
 detained, pending further inquiries, and further inquiries 
 might lead to his premature removal from this world to 
 another."
 
 TEN HEADS 75 
 
 " Shall I throw the pistols away ? Or will you take them 
 and the dagger ?" 
 
 " A thousand thanks. The remedy might be worse than 
 the disease — for me. No, keep them for the present, and 
 when we have reconnoitred the barrier — Hark ! What is 
 that r 
 
 I also had heard something, and, after listening for a few 
 seconds, we exclaimed with one voice : 
 
 "A mob!" 
 
 There was no mistake about it. Once heard, the clamor 
 of a revolutionary mob could never be confounded with 
 aught else. A confused murmur, now dying away, anon 
 rising to a roar, amid which might now and then be dis- 
 tinguished shrill cries, hoarse shouts, and the clash of 
 weapons. 
 
 " Coming this way, too, and from the barrier," said Bou- 
 langer. " Can we see them, I wonder ?" 
 
 By this time we had reached the principal avenue, and 
 perceived, coming towards us, a line of torches, which threw 
 a lurid light on the dense mass of howling maniacs behind 
 them, some of whom were singing the " Marseillaise," others 
 the " Carmagnole " and the " Ca Ira." 
 
 On my companion's proposal, we stepped under a big 
 beech-tree, whence, by keeping well in the shade, we could 
 see without being observed. 
 
 As the procession drew nearer we perceived, between the 
 torch-bearers and the main body, a row of pikes with some- 
 thing at the ends, 
 
 " Are those things on the pike-points caps of liberty, 
 or— ?" 
 
 " Heads," added Boulanger. " I fear they are heads." 
 
 " God forbid ! One, two, three, four — why, there are ten 
 of them !" 
 
 " Yes, ten, and they are not caps. Caps of liberty are
 
 76 FOR HOXOR AND LIFE 
 
 red. Those things are — And doesn't that which is turned 
 this way look lilce a bearded face streaked with blood ?" 
 
 When the hideous procession came over against our tree 
 a halt was called, and the demoniacs chanted the " Marseil- 
 laise " to the accompaniment of kettle-drums and cymbals. 
 The torch-bearers and a horde of dishevelled furies formed 
 a circle round the ten pikemen and danced. 
 
 " It is like hell broke loose," muttered Boulanger. 
 
 As the torch-bearers in their wild whirlings uplifted their 
 torches, I got a better view of the ghastly trophies carried 
 by the pikemen, and my soul froze with liorror when, in the 
 bearded face streaked with blood, I recognized the features 
 of the corporal of the barrack-guard, and in another those 
 of my friend Glutz. 
 
 I had gone through the day's fighting and alarms with- 
 out losing courage or presence of mind, but at that terrible 
 moment my nerve failed me. For the first time in my life 
 I knew fear — downright bodily fear. My knees knocked to- 
 gether, and I closed my eyes to shut out the dreadful sight. 
 So completely did I become unmanned that I was on the 
 point of running away, which had been to court death. But 
 at this moment my companion spoke to me. His voice 
 broke the spell and recalled me to my senses. 
 
 " What is it, Astor ? What is the matter ? Are you ill .?" 
 he asked, anxiously, 
 
 "The heads!" I gasped. "I know them. The corporal 
 of the guard — my comrade, Glutz. We left ten men at the 
 barracks, nearly all invalids." 
 
 " And these are their heads. No wonder you are so 
 overcome. " Oh, the fiends ! I would give all that is left 
 to me of life for a couple of field-guns and a few whilTs of 
 grape-shot." 
 
 At these words my mood changed. My fear turned to 
 blind rage. I drew my pistols, and but for Boulangcr's re-
 
 TEN HEADS 77 
 
 straining hand I should have attacked the mob single- 
 handed. 
 
 "Why throw your life away?" he said. "How would 
 that avenge your slaughtered comrades .-' Restrain your- 
 self. Revenge is for those who know how to wait. See, 
 they are going, and those hateful trophies will soon be out 
 of sight." 
 
 There was reason in my friend's remonstrance, and as 
 the savages marched away I grew calmer, though my heart 
 was full to bursting of rage and grief. 
 
 Not all went. The line of march was strewn with pros- 
 trate men and women, who looked as though they were 
 dead, but were simply dead-drunk. 
 
 "They have plundered somebody's cellar," observed 
 Boulanger, grimly. " I wish they had all drunk to suffo- 
 cation. You cannot go to Courbevoie after this. It were 
 sheer suicide." 
 
 " It is the last place I want to go to — now ; and I should 
 probably find the barracks in ruins. But whither shall I 
 
 go r 
 
 " With me, if you will ; I think I can find you a refuge 
 for the night." 
 
 " At your lodgings ?" 
 
 " No ; that were to compromise us both. I think they 
 will take you in at the house of the late General de Besen- 
 val, who was a dear friend of mine. It now belongs to his 
 widow. The family is from home, but the porter, a coun- 
 tryman of yours and a very decent fellow, is in sole charge." 
 
 " You mean he is a Swiss ?" 
 
 " Yes, like yourself." 
 
 " I am an Englishman." And then I explained how I 
 had come to join the Swiss Guard. 
 
 " Well, I think you would have done better to join one of 
 the guard regiments of King George," said Boulanger, dryly.
 
 78 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " So do I ; but that is not to the point. I want to let 
 my father know that I have survived the massacre. Can 
 it be done ?"' 
 
 " Why not ? There is the post." 
 
 "The name might be recognized and my letter opened." 
 
 " There is no reason why you should give your address, 
 and if I post your letter in the Rue de Coquillere it will af- 
 ford no clew to your hiding-place in the Place de I'Hotel 
 des Invalides." 
 
 " Is that where we are going?" 
 
 " Hard by. Let us go while the road is clear." 
 
 At the end of the Champs-Elysdes we turned onto the 
 Quai de la Conference, and crossed the Seine by the bridge 
 Louis XVL, which at that time was under repair or not 
 quite finished — I forget which. Then by the Palais Bour- 
 bon, and down the Rue de Bourgogne, as far as the Rue de 
 Varennes. On the way we met several patrols, who, fortu- 
 nately, gave us no trouble. 
 
 Mme. de B^senval's house was in the regular style of 
 architecture of that aristocratic quarter, a carriage gateway 
 opening into a court which you had to cross in order to 
 gain the front door. The porter's lodge was inside the 
 gateway. 
 
 The large doors were closed, and as Boulanger knocked 
 at the wicket he informed me that the porter's name was 
 Schlessinger, and suggested that it might be as well to 
 avoid mentioning that I was not a born Switzer. The 
 wicket opened a few inches, and at the opening appeared 
 an elderly man, who eyed us suspiciously by the light of a 
 lantern, which he held on a level with his head. 
 
 " Who are you, and what do you want ?" he demanded. 
 
 "The last time I had the pleasure of dining here, Mon- 
 sieur Schlessinger, I was the Vicomte de Lancy." 
 
 " Vou don't look much like him."
 
 TEN HEADS 
 
 79 
 
 " It would be a serious reflection on my disguise if I did. 
 Perhaps I look more like him now " (taking off his spec- 
 tacles). 
 
 " Yes, now I recognize you. Pray excuse my doubts, but 
 these are times when one has to be cautious, and I am 
 quite alone. The house is unoccupied. Will you give 
 yourselves the trouble to enter, gentlemen ?" 
 
 Schlessinger opened the wicket, and so soon as we were 
 inside carefully bolted it ; then led the way to his lodge, a 
 snug little room principally furnished with a huge arm- 
 chair. 
 
 " What can I do for you, Monsieur le Vicomte ?" he asked, 
 after inviting us to be seated. 
 
 "Dr. Boulanger, if you please. Monsieur Schlessinger. 
 Vicomtes are not popular in Paris at present. I want you, 
 out of the goodness of your heart, to give this gentleman a 
 lodging for a few days in some remote part of the house. 
 He is one of the few officers of the Swiss Guard who escaped 
 the massacre — " 
 
 " Gott in Hhm7iel I you were in the fight at the Tuileries 
 and are still alive !" (turning to me). 
 
 " Yes." And then I had to tell him all about it, and 
 answer many questions ; after which we came to the crucial 
 point : would he take me in ? 
 
 Schlessinger was obviously kind-hearted and sympa- 
 thetic ; but the times were dangerous, and he naturally re- 
 flected before answering. 
 
 " You see this is not my house, and I don't know whether 
 Madame de Be'senval would like it," quoth he; "and they 
 have killed several Swiss porters already, and are continu- 
 ally making domiciliary visits; and spies simply swarm. 
 All the same, being a Switzer and having bowels, I cannot 
 turn a countryman away, and if you will consent to occupy 
 a little chamber right at the top, under the tiles, you may
 
 8o FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 Stay there a clay or two, or until you find safer quarters ; 
 for I really don't think you will be safe here. This is an 
 aristocratic quarter, remember." 
 
 I gratefully accepted M. Schlessinger's offer. " Put me 
 where you will," quoth I, "a soldier should always be 
 ready to rough it, and I am not fastidious. All I ask is 
 some place to put my head in, and as I should be sorry to 
 expose you to danger, I shall be ready to quit whenever you 
 think there is any likelihood of a domiciliary visit." 
 
 And then I asked him for writing materials, and wrote a 
 few lines to my father : 
 
 "I am alive and only slightly wounded. Uncle Daniel died a sol- 
 dier's death. With his dying breath he sent you his love. The regi- 
 ment did its duty. Fritz." 
 
 I folded and scaled the letter, and gave it to Boulanger 
 to post. 
 
 " I shall call to-morrow or the next day to see how )'ou 
 are going on," he said. 
 
 On which we shook hands, and, after seeing him out, 
 Schlessinger showed me to my bedroom. It was, as he 
 said, quite at the top of the house — a mere hole, little larger 
 than a cupboard, and might well pass unobserved in the 
 event of an unexpected intrusion. 
 
 " I shall bring you your breakfast in the morning," said 
 he ; "but as you value your life, don't show your nose out- 
 side until I come. Domiciliary visits are often made early 
 in the day. Schlafcn sie 7cio/il !" (sleep you well). 
 
 And then he left me to myself.
 
 CHAPTER Xn 
 HIDE- AND -SEEK 
 
 My hsad aches, my wound smarts, and, worse still, my 
 mind is on the rack. My thoughts are as dark as the night ; 
 and when, overcome by bodily weariness, I sleep, my dreams 
 are nightmares, hideous and grotesque. I see again, with 
 additions and distortions, the deadly march through the 
 palace gardens, the fight at the swinging bridge, and bend 
 over my dying uncle at the foot of the statue. I race for 
 my life across the great square, pursued by fiery steeds and 
 fiends with flaming swords, and as their weapons are de- 
 scending on my head waken with a cry of terror. 
 
 After a long interval spent in disordered musings, I sleep 
 again, and dream of severed heads and headless bodies. I 
 am surrounded by a horde of decapitated sans-culottes, each 
 of whom holds in one hand a sword, in the other a torch. 
 I feel like one paralyzed, I can neither stir nor speak ; but 
 as they close in on me and raise their weapons to strike, 
 the scene changes, the sans-culottes vanish, and their places 
 are taken by a circle of head-crowned pikes. One is Glutz, 
 another the corporal of the guard. I know them all. They 
 dance round me as though they were alive, but their eyes 
 are fixed and expressionless, their mouths wide open, and 
 their white blood-streaked faces are the faces of the dead. 
 
 Presently the ten are joined by two other's — Angelique 
 and the vicomte. He looks as ghastly as the others, yet 
 her face is life-like and her eyes speak, and as they meet 
 mine, she smiles, then bends forward as though to kiss me. 
 But when her lips are close to mine, her jaws drop, her face 
 6
 
 82 • FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 takes the hue of death, and I waken with a cry of horror, 
 trembling like a leaf. 
 
 After this I slept no more, and when the first gleam of 
 dawn shone through the little dormer-window that lighted 
 my garret I felt truly thankful and intensely relieved. 
 
 After looking through the window, which commanded 
 an extensive view of the steep roofs and long chimneys, I 
 lay down again and closed my ej-es, and might have fallen 
 asleep had I not been disturbed and roused to full wake- 
 fulness by the clash of bells. At first I thought it was the 
 tocsin again, but the next moment I remembered that it 
 was Sunday morning, and that the same bells that had 
 called the people to arms and rebellion thirty hours previ- 
 ously were now calling them to prayer. 
 
 I was not much given to moralizing in those days, but it 
 seemed a strange world, and I thought that of all the peo- 
 ple it contained the French were surely the strangest. 
 They were celebrating the advent of what they called free- 
 dom by the slaughter of the innocent, and replacing the 
 mild rule of a feeble king with the ferocious tyranny of 
 mob -law. Like the frogs in the fable, they had deposed 
 King Log in favor of King Stork. So much was obvious 
 even to my inexperienced understanding. 
 
 It was growing late, and Schlessinger was long in com- 
 ing with my breakfast. Not that I felt hungry, but I was 
 sick of solitude and dying for news. If I could have fore- 
 seen how much longer and drearier a solitude I was des- 
 tined to endure I should doubtless have borne the infliction 
 more patiently. 
 
 In the end Schlessinger came with coffee and rolls, 
 which greatly refreshed me. lie had been out making in- 
 quiries ; this it was that had made him so late. From an 
 acquaintance who belonged to the National Guard he had 
 heard news that surpassed my worst anticipations, and
 
 HIDE-AND-SEEK 83 
 
 showed that the account given by Tremblay, which I 
 thought exaggerated, was less terrible than the truth. 
 
 The regiment, as a military force, was utterly destroyed, 
 and the few survivors were either prisoners or fugitives. 
 All the wounded officers, except M. Reding, who was after- 
 wards foully murdered in the Abbaye prison, had been 
 killed. On the other hand, several officers of the first 
 column, including Captain von Durler, had escaped from 
 durance and so far avoided recapture. But Major Bach- 
 mann and ten other officers were under arrest, and had been, 
 or would be, transferred to the Abbaye. As to the men, 
 it was hardly possible that, except a few who had contrived 
 to change their uniforms for plain clothes, any could have 
 escaped. All of them who outlived the combat at the 
 palace and the fight in the garden and at the bridge had 
 been hunted down and slain. 
 
 I greatly feared that among these were Sternberg and 
 Waldteufel, and that I should never see them again. 
 
 Schlessinger, as I could see, sorrowed sincerely for his 
 slaughtered countrj^men, many of whom he had known ; 
 but what seemed most to concern him at the moment was 
 that, as he had been informed, strenuous efforts were being 
 made to take the five or six officers of the regiment who 
 Avere still at large. Their names were known ; the police 
 had been furnished with full descriptions of their persons, 
 my own among the number, and ordered to spare no pains 
 to discover their whereabouts and hale them to prison. 
 It had, moreover, been given out that whosoever sheltered 
 the fugitives would be held equally guilty. 
 
 " Which means that if you are found here we shall both 
 lose our heads," added Schlessinger ; and the prospect did 
 not seem to give him much pleasure. 
 
 Though just then so overwhelmed with grief that I cared 
 little what became of me, I could neither ignore the old
 
 84 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 man's apprehensions nor appear indifferent to his safety. 
 I told him that I should take whatever precautions he 
 deemed necessary, or, if he liked, depart forthwith. 
 
 But this he would not hear of ; for albeit nervous (and 
 no wonder), he was no dastard. 
 
 "No, no," he said ; " to let you go now were to send you 
 to your death." 
 
 " I don't see that. You forget my blouse." 
 
 " The blouse might do after dark ; but in tlie daytime it 
 is less a disguise than a telltale. I saw at once when you 
 came into my lodge last night that you were no workman." 
 
 " How so ?" 
 
 "Your hands are clean and soft, your nails nicely trimmed ; 
 you don't slouch in your gait, you are well set up, your 
 hair is short, and your bearing military. A spy or a de- 
 tective would spot you at once. He would say to himself : 
 'That fellow is no laborer; I must follow him and find 
 out what he is.' " 
 
 " You are a keen observer, Monsieur Schlessinger." 
 
 " A concierge must be an observer ; it is part of his 
 business. I have been at the job nearly forty years, and 
 I can tell a gentleman, let him disguise himself as he 
 may." 
 
 " So you think I should have a better chance of escaping 
 detection dressed as a gentleman than posing as a gar- 
 dener." 
 
 "Unquestionably. If you want to avoid detection, do 
 nothing to attract attention." 
 
 " In that case, I had better buy myself another suit of 
 clothes." 
 
 " I should certainly advise you to do so. Get yourself up 
 as a bourgeois, a government employe, or a student — any- 
 thing but a workman. But the wisest thing you can do for 
 the present is to stay where you are."
 
 HIDE-AND-SEEK 85 
 
 " In this room ?" 
 
 " Where else ? It is the only place the police might over- 
 look in the event of a domiciliary visit, and you must not 
 show yourself down-stairs on any account. If they were to 
 get wind that I had a visitor, the police would be on us at 
 once. Besides, you look quite worn out ; two or three days' 
 rest will do you all the good in the world." 
 
 This was quite true, though I would rather have had a 
 better resting-place than a cupboard. However, as I could 
 not gainsay a host who was entertaining me at the risk of 
 his life, I said I should abide by his advice, and he on his 
 part was good enough to say that he would pay me an occa- 
 sional visit during the day, and the next time he came bring 
 me some books. 
 
 After he was gone I had a spell of sound sleep, and on 
 awaking felt much better in body and more composed in 
 mind. I could now think consecutively and calmly, and the 
 first result of my reflections were a vivid sense of the diift- 
 culty of escaping from the dangers by which I was menaced, 
 and a decided conviction that I could only escape them by 
 getting out of Paris as quickly as might be. 
 
 On the other hand, it was madness to make the attempt 
 for the present, and neither then nor later would it be possi- 
 ble to leave without a regular passport. And where and how 
 was I to get a passport ? 
 
 Moreover, I had very little money. The gold pieces left 
 at Courbevoie were either gone, stolen by the sans-culottes, 
 or unavailable. Without money I could neither travel nor 
 pay my way in Paris ; and as neither gendarmes nor patriots 
 were incorruptible, a few louis, discreetly dispensed, might 
 remove many obstacles, and even be instrumental in saving 
 my life. True, I could draw on my father ; but where was 
 the banker who would purchase my draft and keep my se- 
 cret ?
 
 86 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 And there was something else. I did not mean to leave 
 Paris Avithout taking leave of Mademoiselle de la Tour, and 
 seeing whether I could be of any use to her. She had laid 
 me under an obligation which it behooved me to make an 
 effort to redeem. Moreover, I was very anxious about her. 
 All her male relatives had run the country — save De Lancy, 
 and he was under a ban — she bore a hated name, and now 
 that the Jacobins had got the upper hand, it was likely to go 
 ill with the class to which she belonged. 
 
 Yes, I must see Angelique again. It were base to quit 
 Paris without repeating my thanks and offering my services. 
 What service, in my then predicament, I could render her, 
 or any other body, I did not stop to inquire. If I had been 
 quite frank with myself, I should probably have said I must 
 see her because I wanted to see her. 
 
 Schlessinger was as good as his word. Between twelve 
 and one he brought me a substantial second breakfast, to 
 which, having recovered my appetite, I did full justice. A 
 healthy organism demands its due, even when the mind is 
 oppressed with care ; and I was young in ninety-two. 
 
 He also brought me some books, and reported that all 
 was quiet in the street. 
 
 Recalling his strictures on my workman's costume, I in- 
 quired whether he could obtain me something less likely to 
 attract attention. 
 
 " A suit of bourgeois .^'' he asked. 
 
 "Yes, a suit of bourgeois," said I. 
 
 " New, or second-hand ?" 
 
 Having regard for the slenderness of my purse, I decided 
 for second-hand, and requested Schlessinger to get me at 
 the same time a hat to match, and a pair of common spec- 
 tacles. 
 
 " Good ! I will try to manage it either to-day or to-mor- 
 row. What arc your dimensions? (measuring me witli his
 
 HIDE-AND-SEEK 8/ 
 
 eye). Height, six feet ; chest measurement, forty inches ; 
 girth, thirty two or three ; square shoulders, longish arms, 
 medium legs. That is about it, I think. But men of the 
 bourgeois class don't wear mustaches. I am afraid you 
 will have to shave yours." Then, seeing that I hesitated, 
 he added : " You can grow another pair of mustaches, but 
 you would find it difficult to grow another head." 
 
 The argument was unanswerable. I consented — albeit, 
 not without a pang — to make the sacrifice, and made it 
 within the hour, using for the purpose one of my host's 
 razors. He visited me again in the evening, and on the 
 day following brought the clothes. They were of the 
 shabby-genteel order, which Schlessinger held to be a de- 
 cided advantage, also the fashion and fit, which were sim- 
 ply deplorable. 
 
 "Well -fitting clothes are the exception," he observed, 
 gravely. " To be well-dressed is to be conspicuous ; the 
 more like the crowd you are the better." 
 
 When I had put them on, and donned the horn-rimmed 
 spectacles and the unobtrusive hat, which he had been good 
 enough to buy for me, I hardly knew myself. 
 
 " This is capital !" I exclaimed. " Now I can go any- 
 where without risk of detection." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," said Schlessinger, grimly. 
 "You must have been seen by thousands when you were 
 on guard at the palace and marching about Paris, and the 
 police don't go entirely by clothes ; they go by height, com- 
 plexion, and other physical peculiarities. Read that !" 
 
 " That " was a hand-bill containing a minute description 
 of my person, and of the persons of my brother-officers, who 
 were being hunted like myself. It even made mention of 
 a too conspicuous mole on my left cheek, and a slight scar 
 over my right eyebrow, and suggested that I had probably 
 shaved off my mustache.
 
 8S FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " Where did you get it ?" I asked, in dismay. 
 
 " A gendarme left it an hour ago, and intimated that if 
 I saw anybody answering to any of these descriptions and 
 failed to give information to the police, it would go hard 
 with me. He was leaving a bill with every concierge in 
 the quarter. I am not popular with the police," added 
 Schlessinger ; " most Paris concicrgs act as spies for them ; 
 I won't. And as my late master commanded the Swiss regi- 
 ments of the Guard, and after the taking of the Bastile was 
 tried for his life on a charge of high-treason against the 
 nation, and I also am a Switzer — " 
 
 " I understand. The house is ' suspect.' You regard 
 the call as a warning, and expect a perquisition. Not for 
 the world would I get you into trouble. I must go at 
 once." 
 
 " Well, I think you had better, and quite as much in your 
 own interest as mine. You would be the first victim. But 
 don't go before dark, if you please. Were it reported to the 
 police that a stranger was seen leaving the house, I might 
 have to answer some awkward questions, and if you are 
 wise you will shun daylight." 
 
 "As you think best, Monsieur Schlessinger; and if the 
 Vicomte calls — I mean Monsieur Boulanger — " 
 
 " He is not going to call. Here is a note from him, ad- 
 dressed to me, but meant for you. It came half an hour 
 ago." 
 
 The note ran as follows: 
 
 " I am hindered by unforeseen circumstances from mak- 
 ing my promised visit. But if j^our friend, M. Anatole 
 Boucher, wants another situation, he cannot do better 
 than apply to M. de Castellan, whose house is in the Rue 
 Clcry." 
 
 " 'I'his is opportune," said I. "It means that Monsieur 
 de Castellan will find me quarters."
 
 HIDE-AND-SEEK 89 
 
 "Without a doubt. Monsieur de Castellan is a good 
 man. His house is over against the Hotel de Chatule. You 
 can find it without asking questions ?" 
 
 " Yes, I know the Rue Clery. I wonder what the unfore- 
 seen circumstances are. I hope Dr. Boulanger has not been 
 laid by the heels." 
 
 " I don't think so. If he had we should not have got 
 that note. He has either heard what a hue-and-cry there 
 is after you, and thinks that calling here by daylight might 
 endanger all concerned, or he is playing hide-and-seek on 
 his own account. I hope you will fall into no danger by 
 the way. If you meet a patrol, turn into a by-street or 
 step into a blind-alley. Prevention is better than cure."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 MADAME DUFOUR 
 
 ScHLESSiNGER put his head out of the wicket, and after 
 looking up the street and down the street, and listening 
 intently, turned to me and reported that all was quiet. 
 
 " You may go now," said he. " Over against the Hotel 
 de Chatule, remember ! The concierge is a Switzer and a 
 friend of mine. Use my name and tell him who you are, 
 and he will be yours also. I wish you good-night, and good- 
 luck to you, Jiici/i/ierf-y 
 
 I wrung the old man's hand, thanked him warmly for his 
 hospitality, and passed through the wicket. 
 
 Night was settling over the city; and so quiet were the 
 streets, and the few wayfarers whom I met took so little 
 notice of each other and of me, that I jumped somewhat 
 hastily to the conclusion that Schlessinger's apprehensions 
 were either baseless or exaggerated. It did not occur tome 
 that people might be staying at home because they were 
 afraid to venture abroad, and that those whom I met were 
 probably no less anxious to escape observation than I was 
 myself. 
 
 There were two ways of reaching my destination : by the 
 Pont Royal and the Galerie du Louvre, and then by one of 
 the streets leading into the Rue St. Honore, or by the Pont 
 Neuf and the Rue de la Monnaic. 1 liad intended to take 
 the latter route; but when I got to the end of the Rue du 
 Bac, I felt a strong desire to revisit the scene of Sunday's 
 tragedy. At first 1 resisted the impulse — it seemed sheer 
 madness, but reflecting that the neighborhood of the Tuile-
 
 MADAME DUFOUR 9 I 
 
 ries was the very last place in Paris where the most sus- 
 picious of detectives would be likely to look for an officer 
 of the Swiss Guard, I crossed the Pont Royal, and entered 
 the Carrousel from the Louvre Gallery. 
 
 Here, at least, was no lack of life and movement. The 
 place was thronged with sans-culottes, and worse than sans- 
 culottes—the abandoned of both sexes, creatures of the night, 
 drawn from the lowest dregs of the population, who had taken 
 part in the plunder of the palace and the murder and muti- 
 lation of my wounded comrades, and were now celebrating 
 their victory. 
 
 In the middle of the square blazed a huge fire, round 
 which danced a horde of half-naked harpies, howling the 
 "Carmagnole." They wore Phrygian caps, their bare arms 
 were red with blood, and from time to time they fed the fire 
 with what at a distance appeared to be billets of wood, but 
 were really, as I too soon perceived, the butchered remains 
 of their victims. 
 
 When the women whirled round, raising their reddened 
 arms and throwing back their heads, and the glare of the 
 bonfire lighted up their fiendish faces, the scene could be lik- 
 ened only to a witches' sabbath or a dance of the damned. 
 
 Horror held me enchained. For a moment or two I 
 stood still, as though fascinated, unwilling to witness the 
 dreadful scene, yet unable to avert my gaze. Then I 
 thought to turn back , but quickly realizing that any show 
 of disgust or even disapproval on my part would entail my 
 destruction, I went deliberately forward, threading and 
 shouldering my way through the press, and when the mob 
 shouted " Vive la Nation !" I shouted with them. For 
 God knows I had nothing against the nation ; but as for 
 those brigands and cutthroats, I would have shot them 
 down with as little remorse as I would have killed so many 
 wolves.
 
 92 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 ^^'ith some difficulty, and slowly — any appearance of 
 haste might have attracted unpleasant attentions — I made 
 my way to the Rue St. Honore. Here the crowd, though 
 less dense, was of the same stamp. Not until I reached the 
 obscurity of the Rue de la Touelerie did I feel myself safe. 
 Several times had I been roughly addressed and threatened 
 by those whom I had thrust aside ; yet by dint of apologies 
 and soft answers, and, once, by standing the price of a drink, 
 I got through, unsuspected and unscathed. But just as I 
 was rejoicing over my good-luck (better than my rashness 
 deserved), and thinking that I should reach my destination 
 without further trouble, I heard a cry of distress and a call 
 for help. 
 
 Looking forward with eyes now accustomed to the semi- 
 darkness of the summer night, I perceived at the corner of 
 the Rue Artois the dimly-defined figures of two men and a 
 woman. 
 
 " Help ! Unhand me ! Let me go !" cried the last. 
 " Robbers ! Help !" 
 
 I had no desire to court an adventure or run gratuitous 
 risks; but as it was impossible to turn a deaf ear to a 
 woman's appeal for help (though, considering the place and 
 the hour, the woman might be no better than she should be), 
 I hurried to the spot. 
 
 The two men, both sans-culottes, had hold of the woman 
 (who was veiled, and, so far as I could see, well dressed) by 
 the wrists, and were dragging her along. 
 
 " Oh, monsieur, deliver me from these villains ! They 
 have insulted me. They are hurting me, they wanted—" 
 
 " Hold your noise, or I'll hit you in the mouth !" growled 
 one of the brutes. " Come alonir !" 
 
 "Why have you arrested this lady? What has she 
 done ?" I asked. 
 
 " Vou mind your own business. Come along, I say 1"
 
 MADAME DUFOUR 93 
 
 " My business is to know why j^ou have arrested this 
 lady." 
 
 " She is a ci-devanf'' (ex-aristocrat), " and we are taking 
 her to the police-station." 
 
 " It is not true," said the woman, excitedly. " I was go- 
 ing quietly along. They stopped me and demanded money, 
 and because 1 could give them none, not having brought my 
 purse, they arrested me." 
 
 " Let her go," I said, quietly. 
 
 " We will let daylight into you, if you don't stand 
 aside." 
 
 I had already decided what to do. To use my pistols 
 would be dangerous, hardly less so to use my dagger, for 
 unless I killed both the fellows at a stroke the survivor 
 would make a noise and bring a police patrol on the scene 
 before I could get out of the way. On the other hand, as 
 both were in liquor and undersized I did not regard them as 
 formidable antagonists, despite the pikes and sabres with 
 which they were weaponed. 
 
 " Let her go," I repeated. 
 
 "Out of the way, ox pardieu I'll — " lowering his pike. 
 
 Retreating a step as though yielding to the threat, I put 
 myself in boxing attitude and, quick as thought, gave the 
 fellow a blow between the eyes, delivered straight from the 
 shoulder and with a will. Down he went like a felled ox, 
 and before his companion could recover from his surprise I 
 served him in like fashion. " They are both hors de conbat 
 for a few minutes," quoth I to the lady. " Do you live far 
 from here ? Shall I have the pleasure of seeing you home ?" 
 offering my arm. 
 
 "Thanks, monsieur, a thousand thanks! I live in the 
 Rue St. Denis. Let us go quickly, please," she said, ex- 
 citedly and half sobbing. "It may seem strange that I am 
 out so late and without an escort. But I have been to see a
 
 94 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 dear friend who is sick and like to die. My husband could 
 not come with me, and my maid was afraid. Besides, she is 
 such a timid creature that she would have been of no use. 
 Those horrid men ! But for you I should have been locked 
 up, in what company Heaven only knows." 
 
 A short walk brought us to the Rue St. Denis, where the 
 lady presently pointed out as her home a house with closed 
 shutters which looked like a shop. 
 
 " In that case, madame, you will permit me to wish you 
 good-evening," said I. 
 
 "Oh, you will surely come in and let my husband thank 
 you for the great service you have rendered me." 
 
 I hesitated for a moment, but, curiosity getting the better 
 of discretion, I bowed assent, whereupon the lady opened a 
 side-door with a latch-key, and I followed her into the 
 house and up a narrow, dimly lighted staircase, which, 
 rather to my surprise, terminated in a spacious, well-lighted 
 gallery adorned with paintings and bright with flowers. 
 
 The lady drew aside a portibre and opened a door. 
 
 ^^ Al/ons,"'' she said softly, and the next moment we were 
 in a handsomely furnished room, where sat a gentleman in a 
 gorgeous dressing-gown and an easy-chair, with his foot on 
 a rest. His features were Hebraic, his eyes dark and shrewd, 
 and he was probably some thirty years old. 
 
 At the sight of me he looked more than surprised and 
 glanced inquiringly at his wife, a fair young woman with 
 violet eyes and brown hair. 
 
 "This gentleman has done me a great service, Adolphe," 
 said she. " Rescued me from two half-tipsy sans-culottes, 
 who, as I had no money to give them, charged me with be- 
 ing a ci-devant, and in spite of my cries and protests were 
 dragging me off to the police-station when this gentleman 
 was good enough to knock them down with his fist, one after 
 the other. He must have arms like sledge-hammers. And
 
 MADAME DUFOUR 95 
 
 then he kindly escorted me hither, and I have asked him in 
 to be thanked by you." 
 
 " In rendering Madame Dufour this service you have 
 made me your debtor, and I thank you warmly," said the 
 man of the house, politely. " Excuse me for not rising; for 
 the moment I am a cripple," glancing at his leg. " These 
 sans-culottes are triple brutes. Did you tell them who you 
 were, Bert he ?" 
 
 " Of course I did. But it was of no use. They pro- 
 tested that I was a ci-devaiif, and if this gentleman had 
 not come so promptly to the rescue — " 
 
 "You would have been locked up all night in a filthy 
 cell. I shudder at the mere thought. But I beg you a 
 thousand pardons, monsieur — I have not introduced myself : 
 Adolphe Dufour, goldsmith and money-changer, at your 
 service." 
 
 " My name is Anatole Boucher," said I. 
 
 " It gives me great pleasure to make your acquaintance, 
 Monsieur Boucher. I have also the honor of being a captain 
 in the National Guard and president of my section, and an- 
 other honor with which I would have gladly dispensed — 
 that of a wound, happily not very serious, received during 
 the attack on the Tuileries. The last volley fired by those 
 infernal Swiss." 
 
 This was bad hearing. I was in the enemy's camp, and 
 though I had nothing to fear from the lame gentleman in 
 the easy-chair, prudence suggested that it were well to take 
 my leave. 
 
 " You will surely stop and take supper with us," exclaimed 
 !M. Dufour as I rose from my chair. 
 
 " Impossible, monsieur, I have an engagement." 
 
 " At least you will drink a glass of wine with my husband," 
 put in the lady. " I shall take it very unkindly if you don't." 
 
 Fearing that to refuse the invitation might provoke sus-
 
 96 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 picion, I resumed my seat, and Mme. Dufour brought a 
 decanter and glasses from the cupboard. 
 
 " I hope we shall have the pleasure of seeing you agaui," 
 said my host, raising his glass and eying me keenly. "And 
 if you will favor me with your address I shall do myself the 
 honor of calling upon you." 
 
 Not being prepared with an answer, I merely bowed. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I fear I have asked an indiscreet 
 question," continued M. Dufour after a short pause. " These 
 are strange times — and I don't think you are what you seem." 
 
 " Pray what do you take me for, monsieur .''" I demanded 
 angrily, for the remark was an impertinence. 
 
 "Judging by your attire, a notary's clerk or shopkeeper's 
 assistant ; but judging by your face and bearing and the 
 vigorous way in which you dealt with those two ruffians, I 
 should say you have served — " 
 
 "And if I have, what—" 
 
 " Precisely. What is it to me ? This. Though a patriot, 
 I am no fanatic. I am for universal brotherhood, and have 
 absolutely no prejudices. I make a specialty of toleration, 
 and war only against opinion." 
 
 " Were you acting in this spirit when you got your wound ?" 
 
 " Perfectly. The Swiss Guard were of opinion that the 
 monarchy should be upheld, we patriots were of opinion 
 that it should be overthrown. But now that the fight is 
 over, we can afford to be magnanimous." 
 
 " And you show your magnanimity by murdering and mu- 
 tilating your prisoners," I broke in impulsively and, as I 
 thought the next moment, with more frankness than wisdom. 
 
 "Yes, that is deplorable, I admit. But there are always 
 exceptions, and though the people, when left to themselves, 
 are good, they sometimes yield to impulse when they should 
 be guided by reason. What is that, Bcrthe — a knock at the 
 door? My faith, suppose it is Serin !"
 
 MADAME DUFOUR 97 
 
 " I am afraid it is Serin. He often calls about this time." 
 
 " Serin, Monsieur Boucher, is a passionate patriot and a 
 member of the National Assembly and the Jacobin Club, 
 also very sharp and curious ; and if he were to suspect, 
 what we suspect, it might be very unpleasant for all of us. 
 Would you mind — ? There! he is knocking again. Jean- 
 nette must let him in. Berthe, take Monsieur Boucher into 
 the other passage. If it prove to be Serin I shall sneeze, 
 and you can let monsieur out at the back. Another time, 
 I hope—" 
 
 " Quick ! This way !" interrupted Mme. Dufour, anx- 
 iously, opening a door at the other end of the room. 
 
 I followed her, in some amusement at the bold captain's 
 trepidation, and we stood at attention in the passage. 
 
 Presently the danger signal went oft". Defour sneezed 
 loudly enough to be heard in the next street, 
 
 " I am afraid you must go," whispered Mme. Dufour. 
 " Allans r 
 
 We went to the end of the passage, then down a flight of 
 stairs, next along another passage until we came to a door, 
 which she unbolted, and, holding it ajar, observed in an 
 emphatic undertone that Serin was a miserable. 
 
 "But," she added, "he is powerful, and when crossed, 
 dangerous. Otherwise I would not let him darken my 
 door. My husband, though he has taken the revolutionary 
 fever rather badly and is too much disposed to swim with 
 the stream, is good, and will serve you if he can. In fact, 
 I shall make him — for at heart I am a royalist — like your- 
 self." 
 
 " How— what ?" 
 
 " I am sure you are, also that Boucher is an alias. I 
 think, from Adolphe's manner, that he has seen you before. 
 I shall make him tell me. If you are in need of a tempo- 
 rary asylum, don't fail to come hither. One good turn de- 
 
 7
 
 98 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 serves another. And now you must permit me to return to 
 the salon, or that miserable will be curious. He is simply 
 made up of curiosity and suspicion. This is a back street. 
 Take the first turn to the right, and you will find yourself 
 once more in the Rue St. Denis. Be sure you come again. 
 Au rcvoii-y
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE VICOMTE's PROPOSAL 
 
 " So much for my disguise," I thought while wending 
 towards the Rue Clery. " Detected at the first inspection ! 
 I do beheve that this confounded Dufour recognized me as 
 an officer of the regiment. What a fool I was to go in ! I 
 am glad I gave him no inkling whither I was going, for 
 though he spoke fairly, a patriot who consorts with mem- 
 bers of the Jacobin Club is not to be trusted. INIadame is 
 a nice woman, good-looking, too, and I dare say would be 
 as good as her word. ... I must clear out of Paris before 
 anybody else recognizes me — after I have seen Angelique. 
 I hope no harm has befallen her. I dare say the vicomte 
 knows. But where is he ? . . . Hello ! What is that ? 
 Another police patrol." 
 
 And as the police were gentlemen whom I had no desire 
 to meet, I stepped into a dark entry until they were out of 
 sight and hearing. 
 
 I had no difficulty in finding M, de Castellan's house, and 
 the Swiss concierge^ to whom I made myself known and deliv- 
 ered Schlessinger's message, showed me into a salon where 
 I was presently joined by his master, a fine-looking middle- 
 aged gentleman with a kindly face and a winning manner. 
 
 After congratulating me on my escape, of which he had 
 heard from the vicomte, M. de Castellan asked me divers 
 questions as touching what had befallen me during the pre- 
 vious twenty-four hours. When I told him of my latest ad- 
 venture and my call at the house of M. Dufour, he looked 
 very grave, saying that I had run a terrible risk. Of Du-
 
 lOO FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 four he knew nothing, but of Serin too much. He was one 
 of the most violent and truculent members of the Jacobin 
 Club and the " insurrectionary Commune." 
 
 " If he had come in before you left he would almost cer- 
 tainly have had you arrested, and probably the Dufours 
 also," observed M. de Castellan. 
 
 " I should not have surrendered without a struggle, sir," 
 said I. " I am armed as you see," opening my coat and 
 showing my pistols and dagger. 
 
 " You would have been quite right. If they try to arrest 
 you resist to the death, for if you are taken they will have 
 your life. But I hope you will not be arrested, and I shall 
 do my best to prevent any such misfortune. I will find you 
 a hiding-place, and you must st.iy there until the storm has 
 blown over." 
 
 After heartily thanking M. de Castellan for his friendly 
 reception, I suggested that my wisest course would be to 
 quit Paris without delay. It was terrible to think that I 
 could not accept a friend's hospitality without hazarding 
 his liberty, possibly his life. 
 
 To which he answered that quitting Paris was an impos- 
 sibility. All the barriers were closed, and nobody was al- 
 lowed to pass out on any pretext whatever. Moreover, the 
 National Assembly had just made a law authorizing gen- 
 darmes and "active citizens" to arrest, on their own re- 
 sponsibility, whomsoever they might suspect of " incivisine,^^ 
 which meant sympathy with the nation's enemies or disaf- 
 fection to the new government. 
 
 "Only members of the National Assembly, the Paris 
 Commune, and the Jacobin Club are safe," added M. de 
 Castellan. " I thought a revolution necessary, and at the 
 outset gave it my support ; but the present government is 
 more tyrannical than that of Louis XVf., and I know not 
 what will be the end."
 
 THE VICOMTES PROPOSAL 1 01 
 
 He feared that I was the sole survivor of the second col- 
 umn, though a rumor had reached his ears that two or three 
 of the fugitives had found a refuge in the cellars of the 
 Ministry of Marine, and, with the connivance of friends, who 
 supplied them with plain clothes, got safely away. But be- 
 ing private soldiers and unidentified they were less eagerly 
 sought after than I was. Moreover, my escape and the way 
 in which I had served their brigadier had greatly incensed 
 the gendarmes, and they were moving heaven and earth to 
 effect my capture. 
 
 " I shall give you a little room at the top of the house," 
 said M. de Castellan, " and there you must stay for a few 
 days, perhaps for a few weeks. It will be wearisome, no 
 doubt, yet better than the Conciergerie and the scaffold." 
 
 This there was no gainsaying. My latest experience 
 showed me that how cunningly soever I might xlisguise 
 myself I could not appear outside without risk, and, having 
 no desire to lose either my liberty or my head, I made up 
 my mind to \iq perdu in my host's little room until it should 
 be safe for me to shift my quarters and quit the country. 
 
 I should probably see the vicomte in a few days, said 
 M. de Castellan, in answer to my inquiries about him. He 
 was keeping quiet, rather to avoid being suspected than 
 because he was in any immediate danger. The police be- 
 lieved that he had left the city, and it was a belief which 
 he was desirous not to disturb. 
 
 At this point our conversation was interrupted by Lang- 
 bein, the Swiss porter, who informed his master that M. 
 Monval wished to see him. 
 
 " Show Monsieur Monval in," said M. de Castellan. 
 Then, turning to me, " I think you had better slip behind 
 that screen." 
 
 I bowed and obeyed. The visitor stayed half an hour. 
 I tried not to listen to their conversation, and succeeded so
 
 102 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 well (having much on my mind) that only a few disjointed 
 scraps of it reached my understanding. 
 
 When the gentleman was gone my host called me forth. 
 
 " Monval is trustworthy and discreet, and would not have 
 betrayed us," said he. " But he is also old and timid, and 
 I thought you had better not meet. For if it should ever 
 come out that he had met, and not denounced, a fugitive 
 officer of the Swiss Guard, he would get into trouble." 
 
 " And yet you receive me as your guest ?" 
 
 " Deliberately, and with my eyes open to the possible 
 consequences. But that is no reason why I should let a 
 third person compromise himself unwittingly. Besides, I 
 am Swiss by origin and connection, which Monval is not, 
 and I regard it as the duty and privilege of a Christian 
 gentleman to do to others as he would that they should do 
 to him, even at the peril of his life. \A'ho knows that be- 
 fore long I may not have to ask from some kind soul the 
 same help I am now giving you ?" 
 
 And then M. de Castellan himself took me to my room. 
 Like the chamber I had occupied at Mme. de Be'senval's 
 house, it was under the tiles, though larger and more com- 
 modious, and outside was a corridor where I could take 
 walking exercise when the servants were having their meals, 
 only my host and Langbein being in the secret. 
 
 In the morning Langbein brought my breakfast, also 
 some books and papers wherewith to beguile my seclusion. 
 Among the papers, to my great delight, was a copy of the 
 2imcs not more than a fortnight old. 
 
 Before Langbein went away he called my attention to an 
 overhead trap-door which gave access to the roof, and sug- 
 gested that, in the event of a sudden intrusion of the police, 
 the surest hiding-place would be among the chimney-stacks 
 on the side farthest from the front entrance. 
 
 I remained in my quarters several days, whiling away the
 
 THE VICOMTE S PROPOSAL I03 
 
 time as best I could. When I grew tired of reading and 
 lying in bed (and I did a good deal of the latter, fixute de 
 mieux), I would look through the window, which, as it was 
 little bigger than my head and over against the opening 
 into the Rue de Bourbon and very high up, I could do 
 without being observed. 
 
 Towards the end of the week came the vicomte, to my 
 great satisfaction. I was dying both for news and com- 
 pany, especially news of Angelique. He said she was in 
 fair health and of good courage, but her mother's health 
 did not improve, and so long as they remained in Paris 
 was not likely to improve ^ but as Mme. de la Tour was 
 too much of an invalid to travel, leaving it was, as yet, out 
 of the question, even though they could obtain passports, 
 which was doubtful. 
 
 Then he explained that although he had been in hiding 
 he had not been inactive, and that the plot for the rescue 
 of the royal family was making good progress, and he in- 
 vited me to lend him a helping hand — in other words, to 
 join in the conspiracy. On which I laughed and asked him 
 how I could help to rescue anybody. I needed rescuing 
 myself. 
 
 " You can do nothing in Paris, of course, while there is 
 this hue-and-cry after you," said he. " But once you are 
 out of Paris — " 
 
 "That is precisely where I want to be, but how am I to 
 get out?" 
 
 " I think you may — in a few days. The barriers are 
 again open, and though the new regulations about pass- 
 ports are very stringent — none being granted except on a 
 personal application, supported by two well-known citizens 
 of approved patriotism — I hope to get you one. Not on 
 your personal application, of course." 
 
 " Whose then ?"
 
 104 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " We shall see. Even patriots have their price, and with 
 money everything is possible." 
 
 " Unfortunately I have no money, or next to pone. Save 
 five louis, of which I have spent three, I left all my cash at 
 the barracks, and you cannot do much bribing with two 
 louis." 
 
 " I have some, but I shall need it all. It will take many 
 golden keys to open the Temple. Is there no way V 
 
 " If I could only sell a draft on my father — " 
 
 And then I bethought me of Dufour, "jeweller and money- 
 changer," and told Boulanger of my adventure of the pre- 
 vious week and my encounter with the gentleman in ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " The very thing," he exclaimed, delightedly. " From 
 what you say I take it that Monsieur Dufour is a decent 
 fellow. You have placed him under an obligation. He will 
 certainly buy your draft on monsieur, your father." 
 
 "But I should have to put myself in his power by telling 
 him my name, and I am not sure — " 
 
 " You would not need to give him your address, and as I 
 shall act as intermediary he will know little more than he 
 knows already." 
 
 " You would see him then ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " When r 
 
 "At once. He lives in the Rue St. Denis, you say?" 
 
 "Yes, hard by St. Sauveur. But I should advise you to 
 have a word with Madame Dufour before you speak to her 
 husband. She is a royalist at heart, and, unless I am much 
 mistaken, rules the roost." 
 
 " Is she good-looking ?" 
 
 " Decidedly, and, I think, well disposed towards me." 
 
 " Of course. How much can you draw for?" 
 
 " Anything in reason. Say, two hundred and fifty pounds
 
 THE VICOMTE's PROPOSAL 105 
 
 Sterling, and you may tell Monsieur Dufour that the firm of 
 Frederic Astor & Co. is of high repute, both in Manchester 
 and London, and their paper second to none. I suppose I 
 am to understand that the passport is conditional on my 
 participation in your enterprise." 
 
 " Not so far as I am concerned. I should be only too 
 glad to get you a passport in any case — if I could. But 
 circumstances over which I have no control compel me to 
 work through friends who, though royalists at heart, like 
 your friend INIadame Dufour, pose as patriots, and would 
 naturally do more for a fellow-conspirator than for a mere 
 friend. You understand ?" 
 
 " Perfectly," I said, though I had a shrewd suspicion 
 that my friend was stretching a point in order to gain his 
 own ends. " And now tell me what part I am expected to 
 play in the plot." 
 
 On this the vicomte went minutely into the details, which 
 I need not repeat here any further than to say that the idea 
 was to smuggle the royal family out of the Temple (with 
 the connivance of friends inside) some evening after dark, 
 then out of Paris in a market-cart driven by one of the 
 conspirators. As the fugitives were to be hidden under 
 litter and empty sacks, passports would be unnecessary, and 
 recognition, barring accidents, impossible. 
 
 At St. Denis, or some other place near Paris, the royal fugi- 
 tives were to be transferred to carriages drawn by swift horses, 
 and once at Rouen they would be in comparative safety. 
 
 My share in the business was to proceed thither when 
 the time came, and arrange with the king's friends for his 
 reception; also for his further journey to Dieppe and Eng- 
 land, whither I was to accompany him. 
 
 This done, it would be my duty to return to St. Denis and 
 take command of a party of ardent young royalists who had 
 volunteered to escort the royal family to the coast.
 
 Io6 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 I told the vicomte frankly that I did not augur well of 
 his scheme. It seemed to me altogether too hazardous 
 and complicated. 
 
 " Oh, don't think I have any illusions," he answered. 
 " It is the curse of conspiracies that if you are few you can 
 do nothing, whereas if you are many you risk betrayal, 
 either by indiscretion or intention. But I see no other way. 
 It is impossible to get their majesties out of the Temple 
 and land them in England without risk of a miscarriage. 
 Nevertheless the attempt is worth making. At the worst, 
 they can only die, and if they stay where they are their days 
 will not be long. I suppose we can count on you ?" 
 
 " Certainly. I have no great regard for the king, and he 
 is not my king, but I would do anything for the queen and 
 those poor children." 
 
 "Good ! As you promise me your help I shall not quar- 
 rel with your motives. Now I must go and do my errand. 
 Exj^ect me back when you see me. The Dufours may not 
 be at home. But I shall return as soon as possible." 
 
 He returned in little over an hour, with a face that pro- 
 claimed success. 
 
 " It is a thing done, thanks to Madame Dufour," he said. 
 " You were quite right in believing that you had made a 
 favorable impression. She thinks you are a hero sans pciir 
 d sans tache, and, my faith, I am disposed to agree with 
 her." 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense, if you please, vicomte." 
 
 " Nonsense ! I was never more serious in my life. With- 
 out the la4y's help my mission would have proved a failure, 
 and if I had not invoked your name — however, to the 
 point. Thanks to his wife's insistence, Monsieur Dufour 
 will buy your draft on the highly respectable house of Fred- 
 eric Astor & Co. But he is a true bourgeois, timid and 
 grasping. Business was business, he said, and, considering
 
 THE VICOMTE'S PROPOSAL I07 
 
 the risk, he could only give for a draft of two hundred and 
 fifty pounds the equivalent of two hundred and twenty-five 
 pounds, half in coin, half in assignats " (depreciated papei 
 money) " at a discount of fifty per cent." 
 
 "Well, I don't think I can object to that, considering 
 that if he were found out the penalty would be death." 
 
 "No fear! Monsieur Dufour is far too wide awake to be 
 found out. Here are the drafts in duplicate. All you have 
 to do is to sign the draft, and write a line of advice to Fred- 
 eric Astor & Co." 
 
 " But won't that be dangerous ? The post-office—" 
 
 " Will know nothing about it. The letter, as also the 
 draft, will be sent under cover to Monsieur Dufour's corre- 
 spondents in London. Moreover, to make assurance doubly 
 sure, the packet will be posted by a trusty messenger at 
 some place outside Paris. And I must do Monsieur Dufour 
 the justice to say that he is a good paymaster. The moment 
 you have signed the draft the money will be at your dis- 
 posal. Shall I fetch it for you ?" 
 
 "Thank you. By all means." 
 
 And then I set my name to the documents, and wrote the 
 letter of advice, adding by way of postscript a few words 
 informing my father that I was still at liberty, though in hid- 
 ing, and that I hoped, with the help of the proceeds of the 
 draft, to escape from Paris and make my way to London 
 in the course of a few days or weeks, as fortune might 
 favor me. This done, the vicomte put the papers in his 
 pocket and departed on his second errand, promising to 
 return as quickly as might be. 
 
 By this time it was nearly night, to my great content, for 
 I feared these continual comings and goings might provoke 
 suspicion and lead to trouble. 
 
 When the vicomte was gone I went to the window and 
 watched the people below, as they moved about silent and
 
 Io8 ' FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 ghost-like in the fast-deepening twilight, amusing myself by 
 noting the peculiarities of their gait, and the differences in 
 their stature and appearance, and weaving vagrant fancies 
 as to whence they came, whither they were going, and what 
 they did. 
 
 Suddenl}', as by common consent, these wayfarers dis- 
 appear. Some go one wa}', some another, and the end of 
 the Rue de Bourbon, which is all I can see, becomes a lone- 
 some waste. At the same moment there falls on my ear 
 the tramp of an approaching patrol. In those days people 
 were nearly as much afraid of a patrol as of a mob. 
 
 When the detachment came opposite the house I heard a 
 shout, followed by the word " Halt ! " Then I thought I 
 could distinguish the grounding of arms and a ring of steel, 
 as when soldiers fix bayonets. 
 
 I was W'Ondering what all this might portend — for short 
 of putting my head completely out of the window (which 
 would have been dangerous) I could not see what was pass- 
 ing directly beneath it — when my door suddenly opened and 
 Langbein appeared at the threshold. 
 
 " A domiciliary visit, Herr Astor !" he exclaimed, excited- 
 ly. " Quick ! Out on the roof as you value your life."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 THE INCIDENT OF THE FLOWER-POT 
 
 Langbein departed as abruptly as he had come, and be- 
 fore the sound of his retreating footsteps had died away I 
 was on the house-top, making for the chimney-stacks. The 
 roof being long and steep, and slippery with recent rain, 
 this was no easy task. I had to crawl, slowly and painfully, 
 on my hands and knees. Though night was falling, and 
 the street so narrow and the house so high that I ran little 
 risk of being seen from below, it was possible that some 
 gendarme of exceptionally keen vision might catch a glimpse 
 of me ; wherefore I clung closely to the tiles, and effaced 
 myself as much as might be. 
 
 At length I reached the ridge, and sat down on it. under 
 the shadow of a big chimney-stack. 
 
 After resting a few minutes, I shifted my position with a 
 view to taking post on the other side of the ridge. In do- 
 ing so I slipped (Heaven only knows how), and before I 
 realized my danger was sliding down the high-pitched roof. 
 
 In vain I clutch at the tiles with my hands and try to 
 stop myself with my heels. I go on with ever increasing 
 momentum. A few seconds, and I shall be shot from the 
 roof and dashed to pieces on the pavement. 
 
 A thought of my father, England, and Angelique flashes 
 through my brain. I shut my eyes and commend my soul to 
 God; and then, with a shock that bends my knees, wrenches 
 my loins, and shakes every bone in my body, I stop. 
 
 The heels of my shoes have struck the stone gutter that 
 runs along the edge of the roof, stopping my glissade.
 
 no FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 My feeling of relief was so intense, and the fear that if I 
 stirred I might fall so great, that for several minutes I lay 
 quite still, neither desiring nor daring to move. 
 
 I think, too, that I must have been slightly stunned. 
 
 The first thing I did so soon as I recovered my scattered 
 wits was to dofif my shoes one after the other, yet gingerly 
 and carefully withal ; for I was at the edge of the slope, and 
 a single false step had been fatal. 
 
 This done, I recommenced the ascent, and had not gone 
 far when I heard Langbein's voice in the region of the trap- 
 door. 
 
 " Are you there, Herr Astor ?"' he asked. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " It is all right ; you can come in." 
 
 I returned to my room with a thankful heart. ]\Iy brief 
 experience of roof-climbing had confirmed me in my pref- 
 erence for inside quarters, and here were two more dangers 
 narrowly escaped. 
 
 Langbein had lighted my lamp. 
 
 " Goit im Himind I where have you been ?" he exclaimed 
 as I dropped through the trap. "Your hands are bleeding, 
 your head is bleeding, and your coat is in rags." 
 
 This was true. The back of my head, which had come 
 in contact with the tiles, was bruised and cut, and in trying 
 to stop myself, I had wounded my hands and torn off two 
 or three of my finger-nails. 
 
 I told Langbein what had happened. 
 
 " Well for you the gutter was there," he said. " Well for 
 us also. If you had come tumbling off the roof among the 
 Blues it would have been worse than the flower-pot." 
 
 Had Langbein looked less painfully serious I should have 
 thought he was laughing at my misadventure. 
 
 " Worse than the flower-pot ! \\']iat on earth do you 
 mean ?" I asked.
 
 THE INCIDENT OF THE FLOWER-POT III 
 
 " A flower-pot caused all the mischief, meinhcrr. It fell 
 from a window-sill as the patrol was passing, and narrowly 
 missed giving one of the ruffians his quietus. Thinking it 
 had been done on purpose, they smashed the door in, threat- 
 ened to search the house from top to bottom, and lock us all 
 up. It was all Monsieur de Castellan could do to pacify them, 
 and they went away growling, and saying they would report 
 the incident at the Hotel de Ville. That means the house 
 will be 'suspect' and watched, and is no longer a safe asy- 
 lum for you. Monsieur de Castellan is of opinion that vou 
 had better change your quarters before worse befall." 
 
 " But whither shall I go ?" I asked in dismay, since, even 
 though Mme, Dufour's invitation were serious, it had not 
 been seconded by her husband, and I doubted whether I 
 should be safe in a house belonging to a patriot and fre- 
 quented by Jacobins. 
 
 " Monsieur de Castellan knows of a place. He is always 
 taking thought for others. He will be here shortly, and tell 
 you about it. Meanwhile, I must fetch plaster and water 
 and dress your wounds." 
 
 Whereupon Langbein went, and in a few minutes returned 
 and began operations. While he was acting the part of 
 Good Samaritan his master appeared, looking very grave, 
 and after hearing how I had come by my hurts, said that, 
 to his great regret, he was compelled to urge my immediate 
 departure. The departure was imperative. He quite ex- 
 pected, as the first result of the unfortunate incident of 
 the flower-pot, that a sentinel would be posted at the door, 
 probably within the hour, and if he escaped a domiciliary 
 visit he should esteem himself fortunate, adding that a good 
 friend of his, who lived in a more tranquil part of Paris 
 than himself, would put me up for a few days, and that he 
 should accompany me thither himself. 
 
 I answered that he had already done more than enough
 
 112 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 for one who had no claim on him, and was beseeching him to 
 let me shift for myself when he silenced me with an impera- 
 tive gesture, saying that, though he could no longer keep me 
 in his house, I was still his guest, that he considered it his 
 duty to find me another asylum, and wherever I was he should 
 continue to watch over my safety — if I would allow him. 
 
 My eyes filled with tears, and I was so deeply moved 
 that I could do no more than take both my dear friend's 
 hands in mine and murmur incoherent thanks. 
 
 Then he found me a coat, my own being all in tatters. 
 Our destination was the Rue des Trois Pavilions; but as it. 
 would not have been well for us to leave the house together, 
 I started first, and INI. de Castellan agreed to join me ten or 
 fifteen minutes later at the corner of the Rue Mauconseil. 
 Before setting out I mentioned Boulanger's expected visit, 
 and Langbein was instructed to tell him that if he called 
 again on the morrow he would learn whither I was gone, 
 and that I was very desirous to see him. 
 
 I wanted the proceeds of my draft. i\Iy " cash in hand " 
 had diminished almost to nothingness. I needed a change 
 of clothes, under and over, and I might at any moment find 
 myself in a predicament from which the judicious applica- 
 tion of money would be the sole means of deliverance. 
 
 M. de Castellan joined me at the corner of the Rue Mau- 
 conseil, according to arrangement. I proposed that we 
 should take a fiacre, but he thought we had better not ; most 
 of the drivers thereabouts knew him, and we could not be 
 too cautious. And then he told me that the Assembly had 
 just decreed the establishment of a new tribiuial for deal- 
 ing with " offences against the nation " (which might mean 
 pretty nearly anything). This tribunal could inHict only 
 one punishment — death ; and against its judgments there 
 was to be no appeal. As M. de Castellan said, it was well 
 to be cautious.
 
 THE INCIDENT OF THE FLOWER-POT I 13 
 
 The house to which he took me was lofty and spacious, 
 and belonged to a tailor called Verner, who turned an hon- 
 est penny by letting furnished rooms and taking lodgers. 
 One of his tenants Vv'as a member of the Assembly. In one 
 sense this would be an advantage, a house where dwelt a 
 deputy being less likely to become "suspect" than one not so 
 fortunate. On the other hand, I should need to lie closely 
 perdu, both for my own sake and that of my new host. 
 Verner, as I\I. de Castellan informed me, was an excellent 
 fellow, in whom I might place implicit confidence, and 
 albeit solicitude for his wife and family, and a natural de- 
 sire to keep his head on his shoulders, constrained him to 
 swim with the revolutionary stream, he compounded for 
 his pliancy by giving aid and comfort to the revolution's 
 victims. 
 
 He was a dapper, fussy little man with a round belly, a 
 rotund, smiling face, and a fluent tongue. He received us 
 with great cordiality, and gave me a room on the first floor, 
 with a window looking towards an inner court. It had 
 also the advantage of communicating with the kitchen by a 
 back staircase, which might be useful in certain eventuali- 
 ties, and the room was so placed that unless I was very 
 demonstrative I could neither be seen nor heard either by 
 insiders or outsiders ; and as only Verner and his wife were 
 aware of my presence in the house, I might consider myself 
 tolerably safe. At any rate, he said so ; and I was, of course, 
 bound to believe him. 
 
 When M. de Castellan was gone I had a pleasant talk 
 with M. Verner, in the course of which I took occasion to 
 inquire the name of his tenant, the deputy. 
 
 " Monsieur Serin, or, as he prefers to be called, Citizen 
 Deputy, and his room is next to yours," answered the 
 tailor. 
 
 " Serin ! Why, he is a fanatical Jacobin."
 
 114 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " Exactly, and I wish he had his deserts. Only the night 
 before last he made a speech at the Jacobin Club, in which 
 he denounced the poor king as an enemy of the human 
 race, and in the name of an outraged people demanded the 
 tyrant's head. Yes, Serin is a monster, and I was very 
 sorry when he proposed to become my tenant ; but I could 
 not say him nay, and you must remember that his presence 
 here constitutes a sort of guarantee of the soundness of my 
 political principles, which in these days is an immense 
 advantage." 
 
 " I dare szy. But suppose he and I were to meet, by 
 some untow^ard accident ? Being a deput)-, he has probably 
 seen me on parade at the palace or strolling in the gardens, 
 where I used often to walk ; and though I look very differ- 
 ent in these clothes, and have shaved my mustache and 
 abandoned jDOwder, he might recognize me.'' 
 
 Verner turned pale at the mere idea. 
 
 " But you must not meet him !" he exclaimed. " Serin is 
 as sharp as a needle, and as suspicious as his friend Murat. 
 When he is in you must not show^ your nose outside your 
 room door on any pretext whatever, nor make the slightest 
 noise. Only this wall divides your room from his. Thank 
 goodness, he is not here much. He is awMy all day, some- 
 times all night, and the only meal he takes in the house is 
 breakfast. And now I think I had better leave you." 
 
 What Verner had imparted caused me considerable ap- 
 hension ; but I retired soon after his departure, and fell 
 into a troubled sleep.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 CITIZEN SERIN FIRES A PISTOL 
 
 I HAD slept I don't know how long — perhaps two hours —   
 when I was awakened by a violent scratching at my door, 
 followed by several gentle, yet emphatic, knocks. 
 
 " What is it ?" said I, getting up and going to the door. 
 
 " For God's sake, let me in !" whispered Verner. 
 
 I let him in. 
 
 "Put something on and come out," he said. "We are 
 betrayed ; the Blues and a lot of sans-culottes are coming 
 to search the house, A good friend of mine heard them 
 say so, and ran on to warn me. He left them in the Rue 
 Franc Bourgeois. They will be here in two minutes. 
 Quick !" 
 
 " Impossible !" I answered, as I got into my breeches and 
 threw on my coat. " Nobody but Monsieur de Castellan 
 knows I am here." 
 
 " You may have been tracked. Anyhow, they are com- 
 ing, and if they find you here we shall all be ruined — all ! 
 all!" 
 
 " Is there a way out ?" 
 
 " None. You would meet them ; you would be seen. 
 The house is beset. But there is a place in the kitchen, 
 and, fortunately, the servants have gone to bed, and Serin 
 hasn't come home. Come along ! Quick ! To the kitchen !" 
 
 I followed my host softly down the back stairs. As he 
 stood at the bottom, holding above his head, for my benefit, 
 a long, thin candle with an untrimmed wick, its flickering 
 light fell on a pale and frightened face. For this, however,
 
 Il6 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 I thouiiht none the worse of him ; every decent father of a 
 family in Paris was in a chronic condition of fear just then, 
 and, for my own part, I frankly confess that I would rather 
 have been somewhere else. 
 
 "This is the place," said Verner, when we were in the 
 kitchen, motioning with his candle to a sort of black hole 
 close to the hearth. " It is bigger than it looks, and roomy 
 inside ; but when closed, looks so small that nobody would 
 think it could hold a man. Fortunately, the fire has been 
 out some time, or you might be roasted. Lut there are 
 holes for the admission of air at the farther end. Hark ! 
 The ruffians are thundering at the door. They will break 
 it in. I must run and open it for them. That is it ! Now 
 you are in, and be sure you stop there until I tell you to 
 
 come out." 
 
 I had to creep in on my hands and knees. Once inside, 
 however, I could stand half upright; but as the position 
 left a good deal to be desired in the way of ease, I sought 
 for something whereon I might sit or recline ; and after grop- 
 ing about, found a heap of refuse that answered my purpose 
 indifferently well, and from which I inferred that the place 
 was what Lancashire folk call a " cinder hoyle." 
 
 It was also hot— very hot ; and there was so sulphurous a 
 reek from the still warm cinders that I breathed with diffi- 
 culty, and the sweat rolled down my face and fell on the 
 ground like drops of rain. 
 
 Yet after a few minutes these discomforts were forgotten 
 in a new excitement. Through the air-holes mentioned by 
 my host I could see lights moving about the court-yard. 
 They were carried by gendarmes and sans-culottes. I could 
 likewise hear the officer in command of the detachment giv- 
 ing directions for the quest, and ordering poor Verner to 
 make a general illumination by putting lights in every win- 
 dow.
 
 CITIZEN SERIN FIRES A PISTOL II7 
 
 The men were bidden to look everywhere — search every 
 cupboard and closet, sound the walls and floors, and even 
 to probe the mattresses with their pikes and bayonets. 
 
 Little they thought that the man they wanted was watch- 
 ing them, ^Yith a pistol in either hand and a dagger in his 
 belt. 
 
 For the heat at length grew so oppressive, the air so sti- 
 fling, that I debated in my mind whether it were not wiser 
 to sally forth and die fighting than tarry in the cinder-hole 
 at the risk of being smothered. 
 
 I had almost decided that the former was the better and 
 more manly course, when a gleam of light shone through the 
 chinks of the door, or rather, manhole, on the kitchen side 
 of the recess. As the door fitted loosely, the chinks were 
 wide, and it occurred to me that by kneeling down and put- 
 ting my mouth to them I should be able to breathe more 
 freely. 
 
 The experiment succeeded. A current of cool air came 
 in through the chinks which refreshed my body and revived 
 my spirits. I found, also, that I could see into the kitchen, 
 albeit, as the light vanished as soon as it appeared, I was 
 unable to make out by whom, or for what purpose, it had 
 been brought in. 
 
 In the meantime the searchers went on with their work. 
 I could hear them above me, and through the air-holes ob- 
 serve their movements in the rooms on the opposite side of 
 the court-yard ; and soon the sound of voices and the tramp 
 of approaching feet warned me that they were making for 
 the kitchen. 
 
 First came poor Verner with a candle, and though obvi- 
 ously doing his best to put a bold face on it, looking like a 
 doomed man. I felt sorry beyond measure that I had been 
 the means, however unintentionally, of involving him in so 
 terrible a misfortune, for as he was accompanied by six
 
 IlS FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 gendarmes, and there were only three places in the kitchen 
 that could hold a man — a closet, the chimney, and the cin- 
 der-hole — discovery seemed inevitable. It was inconceiva- 
 ble that the searchers, who had been told to seek every- 
 where, and even to probe the mattresses, should overlook 
 the cinder-hole. 
 
 Nevertheless, I resolved to make an effort to escape, and, 
 failing that, to sell my life dearly. My plan was this : When 
 the gendarmes were stooping to open the door, I would 
 kick it aside, and give them two pistol shots point-blank ; 
 then, drawing my dagger, burst out, and try to gain the 
 street before they recovered from the bewilderment into 
 which so sudden an attack would be sure to throw them. 
 
 At the worst I could but die, and if I let myself be taken 
 I should perish on the scaffold. I preferred a soldier's 
 death, and the fortune that had already so often befriended 
 me might befriend me again. 
 
 But, to my surprise, the gendarmes, each of whom carried 
 a light, instead of examining the closet and the cinder-hole, 
 began to overhaul the drawers, presses, and cupboards, 
 which, though they might have held a child, could not pos- 
 sibly have contained a well-grown boy. They tumbled all 
 the contents on the floor — without, of course, finding what 
 they wanted — and were beginning to search the closet 
 when the kitchen door opened, and a harsh and peremptory 
 voice demanded what the devil they were doing. 
 
 The new-comer was a tall, spare man, with deep-sunken 
 eyes, and a sallow and sinister, yet not altogether ill-favored 
 face, and, as touching his person, got up like a glorified 
 sans-culotte. He wore a blouse, Phrygian cap, and very 
 roomy trousers. Round his waist was a three-colored tie, 
 round his throat a red handkerchief, and a murderous-look- 
 ing sabre dangled from his belt. 
 
 " What the devil are you doing ?" he repeated, with an
 
 CITIZEN SERIN FIRES A PISTOL II9 
 
 air which showed that he was a man in authority and fully 
 aware of his own importance. 
 
 "Searching for arms, Citizen Deputy," answered the 
 brigadier in command of the party. 
 
 " By whose order, may I ask?" 
 
 "By order of the Committee of the Section, Rights of 
 Man, Citizen Deputy." 
 
 "Don't you know that the law disapproves of domiciliary 
 visits after sunset, and that the law is the voice of the na- 
 tion, and the voice of the nation the voice of God ?" 
 
 " We are simply doing as we were told. Citizen Deputy. 
 The responsibility rests with the Committee of the Section, 
 not with us." 
 
 " True ! All the same, this is an irregularity that must 
 be reported. On whose denunciation was the search 
 ordered ?" 
 
 " On the denunciation of Joseph Foucroy, master white- 
 smith. Rue Brae." 
 
 " What say you to this, Citizen Verner ?" asked the 
 deputy, turning to the gentleman in question, whose face, I 
 was glad to observe, had undergone a change for the better. 
 Erstwhile anxious and despairing, it Avas now radiant and 
 smiling. 
 
 " What do I say ?" he answered, indignantly. " I say that 
 it is a foul slander. This Foucroy is a poltroon and a 
 rogue, Citizen Serin. He owes me five hundred francs for 
 work done, honest work. I press him for payment, and he 
 revenges himself by denouncing me as a concealer of 
 arms." 
 
 " Ah, this also must be seen to," making a note on his 
 tablets ; " it is a crime to use the law as an engine for the 
 gratification of private vengeance, and I shall take care 
 that this sneak gets his deserts. Citizen Verner is a true 
 patriot and an honest man. Citizen Brigadier. Aristides
 
 120 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 Serin answers for him. He is my landlord and my tailor. 
 Before France became free he made breeches for aristo- 
 crats, now he makes trousers for sans-culottes. He made 
 these I am now wearing," glancing admiringly at his nether 
 garments. ** Aristocrats despise tailors. We patriots de- 
 spise aristocrats and honor tailors. They clothe our per- 
 sons ; they are as useful and indispensable as butchers, 
 bakers, and candlestick -makers, and, like them, belong to 
 the vast army of workers which is one of the glories of 
 France." 
 
 "It is true, it is true," murmured the gendarmes, admir- 
 ingly. 
 
 " My father was a tailor. It is my pride to spring from 
 the people, my privilege to spend my days and nights in 
 their service. Our brave soldiers who are defending the 
 sacred soil of France against the coalesced kings of Europe 
 are in sore need of arms, and if those who possess arms do 
 not voluntarily lay them on the altar of the country the 
 country takes them. Therefore, searches must be made. 
 But before this search was ordered, I think that I, who live 
 in this house, ought to have been consulted. Have you 
 found any arms, brigadier ?" 
 
 "Only this pistol. Citizen Deputy," handing it to Serin. 
 
 " Ah, well, a citizen must be allowed at least one weapon 
 for his personal use. It looks valuable — double-barrelled 
 and silver mounted." 
 
 " I had forgotten its existence," put in Verner, eagerly. 
 " I took it from a customer who had no other means of set- 
 tling my little bill. He said it was worth all he owed me." 
 
 " The customer was a ci-dcvant, I suppose ?" 
 
 "You are right, Citizen Deputy. It belonged to a ci- 
 dcvant noble." 
 
 " It looks like the pistol of a ci-dcvant. Furbished up, it 
 would make a handsome weapon."
 
 CITIZEN SERIN FIRES A PISTOL 121 
 
 "And look well in your belt, Citizen Deputy. Do me 
 the favor to accept it as a gift— friendship's tribute to high- 
 souled patriotism." 
 
 "You do me too much honor, dear Citizen Verner," said 
 Serin, with a smile of serene self-satisfaction. " I am proud 
 to own you as my friend, and I am at least a sincere patriot 
 — whether high-souled, it will be for France and posterity 
 to decide. I cannot refuse a gift so graciously offered, and 
 I shall ever cherish it as a souvenir of our friendship and 
 your merits. Is it loaded ?" 
 
 "I cannot say. It is just as I got it. I never either 
 loaded or discharged a fire-arm in my life." 
 
 " I shall soon see," priming the pistol. 
 
 " Had you not better try it with the ramrod ?" suggested 
 the brigadier. 
 
 "No, I am going to fire it." 
 
 And then, to my consternation, Serin pointed the pistol 
 straight at my head, which I promptly removed from the 
 line of his fire. 
 
 " Shoot up the chimney, and then you cannot hurt any- 
 body," said the tailor, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Unless there is a ci-devant or a Swiss hiding there," 
 said Serin, grimly. " Good ! I will act on your sugges- 
 tion, Citizen Verner," cocking the pistol. 
 
 Then followed a loud explosion and a cry of dismay, and 
 the next moment the Citizen Deputy was dancing round 
 the kitchen as black as a sweep, and with his fingers in his 
 mouth. One of the barrels had burst, damaging his hand, 
 and the concussion had brought down an avalanche of 
 soot. 
 
 "Oh, oh, oh!" he cried, "a thousand thunders! Sacre 
 nom ! To the devil with your pistol. Citizen Verner ! It 
 has broken my forefinger. To the devil with it, I say ! And 
 that cursed soot has got into my eyes and throat," coughing
 
 122 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 violently. " Your chimney has not been swept for ages, 
 Citizen Verner." 
 
 Here some of the gendarmes tittered audibly, whereupon 
 Serin, completely losing his temper, turned on them fiercely. 
 
 "You dare to laugh at me 1" he screamed. "Get you 
 gone this instant, riff-raff ! Who are you to violate an hon- 
 est citizen's domicile at dead of night ? I'll report you to 
 the commune ; I'll bring your conduct before the Assembly ; 
 I'll have your blood. Sacre nom ! You shall be tried by 
 the Revolutionary Tribunal and beheaded. Get you gone, 
 I say. March !" 
 
 The gendarmes marched.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 BAD NEWS 
 
 " I AM afraid my finger is broken, Citizen Verner," ob- 
 served Serin, ruefully. " It hurts dreadfully, and I cannot 
 
 move it." 
 
 " I don't think so," examining the injured digit. " Bruised 
 and cut, but not fractured. I have a liniment which will 
 reduce the inflammation and relieve the pain. Shall I ? — " 
 
 " Thank you. By all means." 
 
 Verner produced a bottle, poured some of the contents 
 on the wounded finger, and rubbed it vigorously in. 
 
 "It will smart a litde at first," said he, "but after- 
 wards — " 
 
 " Smart !" exclaimed the deputy, snatching his hand 
 away and resuming his dance. " Smart ! It burns ! To 
 the devil with your liniment ! It is aqiia-foriis P' 
 
 " Only have a little patience," quoth Verner, soothingly — 
 "only have a little patience, and you will experience great 
 relief. Just one more application." 
 
 " I'll see you guillotined first. Citizen Verner. ... It 
 does begin to feel a little better, though. Should it be 
 bound up?" 
 
 "Yes, with a wet rag. Allow me." 
 
 When the bandage had been applied, Serin gave a sigh 
 of satisfaction. 
 
 " That is good," he said. " Why didn't you do it before ? 
 Now I shall go to my room. Don't think I shall sleep much, 
 though, and my clothes are ruined. To the devil with your 
 pistol, Citizen Verner ! I wish I had never seen it."
 
 124 f"^'^ HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 Notwithstanding this abuse of his gift, Verner accom- 
 panied the deputy obsequiously to the door and across the 
 court-yard, then returned to the kitchen. 
 
 "They are all gone; you can emerge," lie said, at the 
 same lime opening the cinder-hole door. 
 
 As I crawled out, Verner began to laugh— laughed till the 
 tears rolled down his cheeks, and went on laughing so long 
 that I thought he would never stop. 
 
 " Excuse me," he gasped at length. " But I really could 
 not restrain myself any longer. I was nearly bursting. 
 What a comedy ! Did you see him dance ? I wish the 
 pistol had blown his head off. It had been loaded a twelve- 
 month. To think that you were saved by Serin ! I told 
 you it was an advantage to have a deputy as tenant. How 
 he gave it those Llues !" 
 
 '* They were searching for arms, not for me ?'' 
 
 " So it seems; and that sneak, Foucroy, was the cause. 
 But all I knew in the first instance was that they were going 
 to make me a domiciliary visit, whence I naturally con- 
 cluded that we had been betrayed, and that they had heard 
 you were here. All the same, if they had found you it would 
 have been just as bad ; and had not Serin appeared in the 
 nick of time, they would have done so. I know I was in 
 mortal terror, and you must have passed a bad quarter of 
 an hour." 
 
 " Indeed I did. I was nearly smothered." 
 
 " Arc you thirsty ?" 
 
 " I am dying of thirst." 
 
 "You shall have something to drink that will do you 
 good." Whereupon Verner went into the cellar, and pres- 
 ently returned with a bottle under each arm. 
 
 " Champagne wine," quoth he, smacking his lips. " I 
 don't often indulge in it, but this is an occasion that ought 
 to be celebrated : the discomfiture of the Blues and your
 
 BAD NEWS 125 
 
 rescue by Serin. What a sight he was ! I knew the Hni- 
 ment would make him dance. It contains turpentine and 
 acetic acid, and his finger is gashed as well as bruised." 
 
 " Isn't your deputy somewhat of a fool .'"' I asked. 
 
 " No. Serin talks nonsense, like his kind, and is eaten 
 up with vanity; but he is shrewd and clever withal, and an 
 implacable enemy. If he only knew. But he must neither 
 know nor suspect," added Verner, gravely; "that were 
 fatal." 
 
 And then we clinked our glasses and drank the king's 
 health and to the confusion of his enemies; and the little 
 man grew so hilarious that it was all I could do to keep 
 him from breaking into song. But before we separated he 
 sobered down, and again cautioned me to go to bed quietly 
 and stay there until he scratched at my door. 
 
 This injunction I obeyed to the letter, falling asleep the 
 moment I turned in, and so remaining until I was roused by 
 the preconcerted signal. 
 
 On letting Verner in I learned that Serin was gone for the 
 day. He had slept ill and left in an evil temper, vowing 
 vengeance against the brigadier and his men, and carrying 
 his arm in a sling. 
 
 Verner looked anxious, from which I opined that the 
 champagne (of which he took the lion's share) had made 
 his head ache, or reflection had damped his overnight's 
 elation. 
 
 "When I think what a narrow escape we had I cannot 
 help trembling," said he. " If Serin were to find out that 
 he had prevented the arrest of an ofiicer of the Swiss 
 Guard, or that, while posing as a patriot, I was harboring 
 you, his rage would be boundless." 
 
 " How can he find out ?" 
 
 " Accidents happen sometimes, and his manner this 
 morning was not reassuring. It would not take much to
 
 126 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 rouse liis suspicions. You \Yill need to keep very quiet, 
 Monsieur Boucher. I know it will be irksome, but the 
 consequence of discovery would be — decapitation." 
 
 I assured INI. Verner that both for his sake and mine — 
 more, even, for his sake than mine — I should keep very 
 quiet, and obey his behests to the letter. This seemed to 
 relieve the good man greatly, and he went away comforted. 
 
 Later in the day came the vicomte, ostensibly to order a 
 coat from Verner, and was introduced into my rooms with 
 infinite precautions. He brought the proceeds of the draft, 
 but no news. He had heard nothing more of Angelique 
 and her mother, and did not propose to do aught further in 
 the matter of the plot and my passport until the storm had 
 blown over, and the hue-and-cry after me become less 
 strenuous. 
 
 " We must wait ; but it won't be for long," he said, cheer- 
 fully. " Only keep out of their hands — and sight — for anoth- 
 er week or two, and the police will conclude that you have 
 left Paris, and cease looking for you. By that time, too, I 
 dare say, the mob will have forgotten what they call the 
 treason, we the treacherous massacre, of the Swiss Guard 
 in some new excitement." 
 
 The money he had received from Dufour amounted to 
 some three thousand francs in coin (chiefly silver), and 
 six thousand in assignats (paper), but as these were worth 
 less than half their face value, I was not so rich as might 
 appear. 
 
 When I had given Boulanger a thousand francs in paper 
 and five hundred in silver for tiie purchase of a passport, 
 and was putting the balance in my pocket, he suggested 
 that, considering my precarious position and the possibility 
 of further changes of quarters, I might do well to make 
 Dufour my banker. 
 
 " Add the possibility of my being captured and my money
 
 BAD NEWS 127 
 
 confiscated," quoth I. "Yes ; it were a wise thing to do, if 
 Dufour be trustworthy." 
 
 The vicomte thought that Dufour, though politically a 
 malignant, was financially a man of honor. Moreover, by 
 cashing my draft he had put himself in our power as much 
 as I had put myself in his, and would not dare to play any 
 tricks. 
 
 So, with the exception of two thousand francs (the equiva- 
 lent of about fifty pounds), mostly in assignats, which I kept 
 for present use and possible emergencies, I returned the 
 money to my friend, and it was agreed that he should place 
 it on deposit with Dufour. 
 
 One of the first uses I made of my accession of fortune 
 was to bespeak a suit of clothes from my landlord, and 
 commission him to buy me some undergarments, of which I 
 stood sorely in need. And then followed several tranquil 
 days — days which, albeit they travelled with leaden wings, 
 were free from excitement and alarms. I kept my room 
 religiously, seeing only Verner and his wife, except once, 
 when the vicomte made me a second visit. 
 
 Emboldened by this impunity and the fact that Serin was 
 so engrossed with politics that he departed early and 
 returned late, occasionally not at all, Verner now and then 
 allowed me to slip out of the house after dark, and stretch 
 my legs in the neighboring streets — but only when he had 
 first ascertained that they were quiet, and on condition that 
 my absence did not exceed one hour. 
 
 Twice was he good enough to bear me company. The 
 second time something happened. 
 
 We had finished our walk and were nearins: Verner's 
 dwelling, when he touched my arm and whispered, "That 
 man just ahead is Serin. If he sees us he will want to know 
 all about you. Let us turn back." 
 
 "And if he were to turn round and catch sight of us ! He
 
 128 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 is looking round now. Put a bold face on it, and introduce 
 me as a gentleman from the country wlio is looking for 
 lodgings." 
 
 The night not being very dark, and ourselves under a lamp, 
 Serin recognized my companion at once and greeted him, at 
 the same time eying me curiously. 
 
 " Here is a gentleman who wants apartments," said Ver- 
 ner. " Citizen Boucher, Citizen Serin. I doubt, though, 
 whether I can accommodate him." 
 
 " From the country ?" And then, without waiting for an 
 answer, " Have you been in Paris long .?" 
 
 " Only a few days ?" 
 
 " You are from the North, if I may judge from your ac- 
 cent." 
 
 'I'liis was an awkward question, and I had to deal with 
 an awkward customer, likewise a sharp one ; none other 
 could have detected any accent in the three words I had 
 spoken : " Seulcnmit giiclqucs Jours. ^' r>ut a happy thought 
 came to my aid, and I answered without hesitation : 
 
 "From Alsace, Citizen Deputy." 
 
 " That accounts for the accent. Rather a strange time to 
 visit Paris on pleasure, though, is it not?" 
 
 " I am not on a pleasure visit. My father is a dyer 
 and calico printer, and my visit has to do with his busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " A stalwart young fellow of your inches should have a 
 nobler occupation than buying dyestuffs or selling calicoes. 
 Don't you know that the country is in danger? If you 
 are a true patriot you will at once enroll yourself in a regi- 
 ment of volunteers and march to the frontier." 
 
 "I should like nothing better. Citizen Deputy, for, to tell 
 the truth, I detest business." 
 
 " Enroll yourself, then, and I shall do myself the honor of 
 writing to your father, if you will give me his address, ap-
 
 BAD NEWS 129 
 
 plauding your resolution and accepting the responsibility of 
 my advice. And if he is a good patriot he will be highly 
 gratified." 
 
 " My father is an ardent patriot, Citizen Deputy, and I 
 am sure your letter would be a great satisfaction to him.'' 
 
 I gave Serin, as the address of Citizen Frederic Boucher, 
 the name of the place at which my father had formerly 
 lived in Elsass, and it was duly recorded in the deputy's 
 tablets. 
 
 " I am delighted to have secured so promising a recruit 
 for the army of the republic," said he, blandly. "If you 
 come to me at the Hotel de Ville, between ten and eleven 
 to-morrow, you shall be duly enrolled. Where have you 
 been staying ?" 
 
 " At the Hotel des Princes, Rue de Crenelle ; but as I 
 find it expensive, I am looking for lodgings in a cheaper 
 quarter." 
 
 " The nation will provide you with lodgings for the 
 future — occasionally, I dare say, a la belie etoile" (under the 
 stars). " The Assembly took an important resolution to- 
 night. Citizen Verner, of which I am sure you, like all other 
 patriots, will approve. On the motion of Danton it has 
 been decreed that on Wednesday night every house in Paris 
 shall be searched for counter-revolutionists and arms. The 
 municipal officers who conduct the visits will be empowered 
 to arrest all whom they may suspect of disaffection to the 
 republic, or who cannot give a satisfactory account of them- 
 selves. Meanwhile the barriers are to be closed, so that 
 none of these aristocrats, who are plotting against the 
 country, may escape. And now I must leave you ; I have 
 had a hard day's work, and am dying for a good night's 
 rest. You won't forget to come to me in the morning. 
 Citizen Boucher — not later than eleven, if you please. 
 Good-night." 
 9
 
 1 30 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 ^^ Mon Dieu ! mon Dicu ! what a misfortune!" said Ver- 
 ner, in an agonized whisper. " All Paris to be visited the 
 second night from this, and you under engagement to meet 
 Serin to-morrow ! What will become of us ? What shall 
 we do ?"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 IN PERIL 
 
 "What shall we do ? What will become of us ?" repeated 
 Verner, turning into his work-room, where at that hour we 
 could count on immunity from eavesdroppers and busy- 
 bodies. 
 
 " What shall we do ? You will stay where you are, of 
 course, and I must find a fresh billet. That is all," said I. 
 
 "You don't propose to keep your appointment with Serin, 
 then ?" 
 
 "Go to the Hotel de Ville, you mean ? Not I, faith." 
 
 " But what will he say ?" 
 
 " That is his affair." 
 
 *' What will he say to me, I mean." 
 
 •' What can he say ? You are in no way responsible for 
 my conduct. We met accidentally at a cabaret in the Rue 
 St. Honore. I inquired about lodgings, and when we fell 
 in with Serin you were bringing me here to view your only 
 vacant room. Considering that I am going to be enrolled 
 to-morrow morning, I decide not to take the room, and re- 
 turn, as you suppose, to the Hotel des Princes. What can 
 be simpler? If Serin wants me, let him find me." 
 
 " It is so. That is the line I must take. I shall feign 
 ignorance, and sympathize with Serin in his anger and dis- 
 appointment. Deception is a virtue when you have to do 
 with such a fellow. But you, my poor Monsieur Astor, 
 what will you do ?" 
 
 " Throw myself on the hospitality of Monsieur de Cas- 
 tellan."
 
 132 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " But on Wednesday night, when every house in Paris is 
 to be searched from top to bottom ?" 
 
 '• Oh, I shall find some corner to hide in, or I might walk 
 the streets, or sleep under a bush in the Champs-Elysees 
 or Pare Monceau. And a great deal may happen before 
 Wednesday night." 
 
 The end of it was that, after a cordial leave-taking with 
 Verner, I set out for the Rue Cle'ry, saw Langbein, and had 
 an interview with M. de Castellan, who kindly offered me 
 my old room under the tiles, provided I would share it with 
 a wounded soldier of the regiment, whom he had taken in. 
 
 With this proposal I gladly closed. A fellow-soldier is 
 none the less a comrade because when you carried the 
 colors he carrieil a musket ; and misfortune, which is said 
 to make strange bedfellows, effaces social distinctions. 
 
 Nevertheless, M. de Castellan left me under no illusion 
 as to the dangers that confronted me. Two nights at the 
 utmost could he keep us — the wounded Switzer and myself 
 — in his house. No corner of it was likely to remain un- 
 searched, and he feared that my plan of walking the streets 
 or lurking in the Champs-Elysdes was impracticable; but he 
 would make inquiry, and do his best to find me a shelter 
 from the storm elsewhere. 
 
 When we were done talking, my great-hearted host ac- 
 companied me to the garret, and, after introducing me to my 
 bedfellow, left us to ourselves. His name was Morgen. He 
 had served in Von Durler's company, and marched with 
 the second column through the gardens to the Assembly. 
 W'hen the king ordered the remnant of the regiment to 
 lay down their arms, a few, of whom Morgen was one, re- 
 fused to surrender, yet contrived to escape. Chased by 
 the mob, they found an asylum in the Hotel Dieu, where 
 the chief physician made them strip and go to bed, so that 
 when their pursuers came to look for them they were un-
 
 IN PERIL 133 
 
 able to distinguish the fugitives from the patients. The 
 former were afterwards provided with plain clothes and 
 dismissed, and, being private soldiers, and not especially 
 singled out for pursuit, had no great difficulty in losing 
 themselves in the crowd. Morgen's wounds, though not 
 serious, rendered it necessary for him to lie perdu for a 
 while, and he found a hiding-place with his sweetheart, who 
 lived in the Faubourg St. Antoine. But the house becom- 
 ing "suspect," he had to seek fresh quarters, and was finally 
 harbored by Langbein (who came from the same canton) in 
 the garret — of course, by leave of its owner. 
 
 Morgen's hurts, though not disabling, were obvious. His 
 right ear had been shot off, and one side of his head and 
 face ploughed with a bullet, and the plasters and bandages 
 which he was forced to wear were apt to attract attention 
 and suggest inquiry as to how he had come by his wounds, 
 else had he tried to obtain employment until such time 
 as he could get away from Paris. 
 
 I was delighted to learn from Morgen that there was 
 good reason to believe that Sternberg and Waldteufel had 
 survived the slaughter of the loth. According to the ac- 
 count he had heard they were run to ground in the cellars 
 of the Ministry of Marine, where some kind soul concealed 
 them and reclothed them. As to how they fared afterwards 
 Morgen had no information. Yet he hoped for the best. 
 No news was good news. If they had been taken, he 
 should have heard. 
 
 Shortly before noon next morning M. de Castellan came 
 to us with a deeply troubled face. The municipality had 
 made known in what manner they proposed to execute the 
 Assembly's decree for a general domiciliary visit. It was 
 to begin that day, and the nets were being so widely spread 
 and their meshes so tightly drawn that, as the Jacobins be- 
 lieved, no royalist, aristocrat or fugitive could avoid capture.
 
 134 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 With the tocsin sounding and drummers of the National 
 Guard beating the rappel, every citizen was to betake him- 
 self to his domicile, the streets were to be cleared, traffic 
 stopped, and all shops and public institutions closed. The 
 sittings of the Assembly and the courts were to be sus- 
 pended. A line of posts was to be established beyond the 
 barriers, in order to catch anybody who might pass them. 
 Armed boats were to traverse the river, and the public 
 buildings on its banks to be garrisoned. Armed sans-cu- 
 lottes were to be stationed at street corners, with orders to 
 arrest whosoever might appear in the streets after a certain 
 hour. Battues were to be made in all the woods, parks, 
 and walks, and every individual found in them haled off to 
 prison. Every man or woman found in a friend's house 
 was to be treated in like fashion, and citizens were ordered 
 to facilitate the search by a general illumination of their 
 dwellings. The visits, conducted by several hundred groups 
 of inquisitors armed to the teeth, were to begin at ten 
 o'clock that night and continue forty-eight hours. 
 
 The government counted on taking ten thousand weapons 
 and bagging ten thousand royalists. 
 
 " I expected that the search would be rigorous," ob- 
 served M. de Castellan, when he had told us these things, 
 "but this exceeds my worst anticipations." 
 
 We looked at each other in consternation. It seemed as 
 though escape were impossible. Nevertheless, I refused to 
 abandon hope. There was surely a corner somewhere into 
 which we could disappear for a couple of days. 
 
 "The roof!" I exclaimed. "Why cannot we go on the 
 roof and hide behind the chimney-stacks ?" 
 
 " Because we are not sure that the visitors will come 
 during the night, and after sunrise detection would be in- 
 evitable." 
 
 " Couldn't we get inside a church .?"
 
 IN PERIL 135 
 
 " No ; the churches will be shut up, and even the floating 
 wash-houses on the Seine are to be occupied by sans- 
 culottes." 
 
 " But surely there is a hay-loft or a cellar, or some such 
 place, I am not without money ; I could make it worth a 
 man's while." 
 
 " It would take a good deal of money to tempt a man to 
 risk his liberty, probably his life. Besides, he who took 
 money to shelter you might take money to betray you ; and 
 hay-lofts and cellars will be more rigorously explored than 
 less likely hiding-places. The safest place is where nobody 
 would think of hiding, therefore of seeking. The main 
 difficulty is that it will not be safe for you to go out before 
 dark, and that by ten o'clock we must all be in - doors. 
 However, I shall do my best." 
 
 With that M. de Castellan went on his errand, and he 
 had so many friends and so much influence, and my con- 
 fidence in him was so great, that I entertained little doubt 
 that he would succeed in finding a haven where we might 
 hope to weather the storm. 
 
 Yet we had an anxious time after his departure, being 
 continually on the alert and in a fever of suspense, I was 
 also concerned about Angelique and the vicomte, of whom 
 J had not heard for several days, and M. de Castellan could 
 tell me nothing. 
 
 Twice during the day Langbein came with food. The 
 second time he reported that Paris appeared to be paralyzed 
 with fear. Sans-culottes, gendarmes, and National Guards 
 were marching about in all directions, no women and few 
 civilians were to be seen in the streets, and though the 
 order for closing business establishments and suspending 
 traffic had not yet been enforced, people were putting up 
 their shutters, and neither fiacre nor cabriolet was to be 
 obtained for love or money.
 
 136 FOR HONOR AXD LIFE 
 
 Between eight and nine Langbein came for the third 
 time, and announced that AI. de Castellan was below, and 
 would be pleased to see us at once. 
 
 We ran down-stairs with an indescribable sense of relief, 
 for we had just come to the conclusion that we should have 
 to turn out and find a refuge for ourselves or face the alter- 
 native ; and we were resolved not to be taken alive. 
 
 " Come along ; we have not a moment to lose !" exclaimed 
 ]\I. de Castellan, as soon as he saw me. 
 
 " You have found a place, then ?" I asked. 
 
 " I think so. We shall see. And now silence in the 
 ranks, if you please. Allans ! Step out !" 
 
 The streets were thronged with armed emissaries of the 
 Commune, guards were at every corner, drums beating, bugles 
 blowing, aides-de-camp and orderlies hurrying to and fro, 
 every door closed, all windows alight. It seemed as though 
 Paris had been taken by assault and the foe were in full 
 possession. 
 
 Fearing we should be arrested, I kept my hand on my 
 pistol, and whispered to Morgen, who was also armed, to be 
 ready for whatever might befall. But nobody troubled us, 
 probably because we went on, looking neither to the right 
 nor left, and in part, no doubt, because M. de Castellan, who 
 had an imposing presence and wore his sword, looked like 
 a man in authority. 
 
 We made straight for the river, down the Rue du !Mail 
 and the Rue des Bons Enfants and across the Carrousel, 
 that place of terrible memories. When we reached the 
 Pont Royal our conductor, pointing to a spot near the 
 water, deep in shade, bade us w^ait there until he returned. 
 
 We waited a long time, and, as sans-culottes were con- 
 tinually passing and repassing, at times almost touching 
 us, were in imminent danger; and I was suggesting that 
 we had better get under the thwarts of a small boat
 
 IN PERIL 137 
 
 which was moored to the bank when M. de Castellan reap- 
 peared. 
 
 " Rue du Bac, third gateway, right," he whispered, and 
 then hurried away. 
 
 The clocks were striking the last quarter before ten, and 
 he had said all that was necessary.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 THE RAVEN 
 
 We crossed the bridge and were entering the Rue du Bac 
 when me met three sans-culottes, who motioned us to stop, 
 and barred the way. 
 
 " Whither are you going ?" demanded one of them. 
 
 " To our lodgings, a little farther on," quoth I, civilly. 
 
 " No, you are not. You are going with us. Consider 
 yourselves under arrest." 
 
 " Why, it is not ten o'clock." 
 
 "All but; and our business is to act, not to argue, ^^'ill 
 you go quietly, or shall we make you ?" 
 
 It was all I could do to refrain from chastising the fellow 
 for his insolence as he deserved ; but knowing that violence 
 just then would be highly impolitic, I put a restraint on my- 
 self, and, showing my pistol, answered even more courteously 
 than before : 
 
 " As our arrest before ten o'clock would be illegal, we 
 shall deem it our duty to resist. But w-e are quiet citizens 
 on our way home, and I think it will be worth your while 
 to let us go in peace. A hundred francs are not to be 
 picked up at every street corner," slipping paper money of 
 that value into his hand. 
 
 " My faith, I believe you. I believe, too, that you are 
 good patriots; so depart in peace, according to your desire, 
 and get home quickly, lest you fall in with a less complai- 
 sant patrol." 
 
 Five minutes later I knocked at the wicket of the third 
 gateway, and before I took my hand from the knocker
 
 THE RAVEN 139 
 
 the gate was cautiously opened by a stout man in porter's 
 livery. 
 
 " From ?" he asked. 
 
 " Monsieur de Castellan," said I. 
 
 " Enter quickly and follow me, but ask no questions. 
 There is no time for talk. Hark !" 
 
 The clocks were going ten, and at the last stroke a great din 
 broke out all over Paris— a din of clanging bells, resounding 
 drums, and far-reaching bugle-calls, the measured tread of 
 marching battalions, and the hoarse murmur of many voices. 
 
 "Hark!" repeated the porter. "This is going to be a 
 dreadful night." 
 
 He took us across the court-yard into a garden, where was 
 a detached flat-roofed building, which might be a billiard- 
 room, summer-house, or conservatory, or all three. The 
 porter unhooked a ladder from the garden- wall, and reared 
 it against the building ; then bade us mount and lie down 
 on the roof. It did not seem a very promising hiding- 
 place ; but remembering that beggars cannot be choosers, we 
 mounted, without more ado. 
 
 When we were on the top, the porter wished us good- 
 night and went his way, carrying off the ladder. The roof 
 was of lead, and surrounded by a ledge or cornice barely 
 high enough to hide us when we lay prone, and, as we soon 
 found, it made a cruelly hard bed. 
 
 But I did not see any immediate necessity to lie down, 
 and was saying to Morgen that I hoped the concierge 
 would return and throw us up a few sacks, or what not, 
 that might serve as bedclothes, when we were startled by 
 a series of knocks at the entrance-gate that sounded like 
 so many pistol-shots. 
 
 " They are come," said I ; and down we went with one 
 accord, and began the longest spell of star-gazing in which 
 either of us had ever indulged.
 
 140 
 
 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 A minute or two later we heard voices and the clash of 
 arms, and half a dozen men, as I judged by the noise they 
 made, entered the garden and surveyed our refuge. 
 
 "I don't think there is anybody hidden hereabouts," 
 said one of them, probably the " municipal " in command 
 of the search-party. " But I must obey orders ; so you, 
 Cornichon, will remain here until you are relieved, and see 
 that nobody either enters or leaves the garden. If anybody 
 who cannot give the password should make the attempt, 
 and, on being summoned, refuse to surrender, you will 
 shoot. You understand ?" 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 " It is well. I shall post another sentry in the court-yard 
 and a third at the gate, so you will have plenty of help 
 within call, and the firing of your pistol will inform the 
 patrol outside that a fugitive is on the run." 
 
 When the " municipal " had given these instructions, he 
 left the garden, and the sentry began his monotonous 
 march, which never took him more than twenty or thirty 
 paces from the summer-house, and whenever he intermitted 
 his walk with a halt, leaned against the wall two yards from 
 where we lay. I could hear him breathe and mutter to 
 himself — occasionally laugh and swear, as the humor took 
 him ; from which I inferred that Cornichon was a man of 
 imagination — possibly a poet. 
 
 My first idea was that the house would be searched either 
 at once or shortly; but as time went on, and Cornichon 
 remained at his post — albeit with waning patience, and 
 swearing much oftener than he laughed— I concluded that 
 the inquisitors were gone elsewhere, and had set a guard 
 about the premises to prevent ingress or egress during their 
 absence, which I fervently hoped would be brief ; for as 
 the night wore on the air grew chilly, and we were thinly 
 clad and the lead desperately cold. To make matters
 
 THE RAVEN I4I 
 
 worse, we dared neither move not converse lest we should 
 attract the sentry's attention. Yet all these perils and dis- 
 comforts did not sufifice to prevent Morgen from falling into 
 an occasional snooze and showing an alarming tendency to 
 snore, which I had to repress by kicks and pinches. 
 
 Meanwhile the discordant noises with which the night 
 had begun went on — now rising, now falling, yet never ceas- 
 ing — mingled at intervals with fitful musket-shots, fired, as 
 we imagined, at suspected royalists who refused to surren- 
 der or were trying to escape. 
 
 So the night wore on, yet slowly withal, as though it 
 would never end, and, as if to increase our wretchedness, 
 there fell shortly before dawn a smart shower of rain which 
 wet us to the skin, and, owing to some obstruction in the 
 gutters, did not run off the roof, so that we had water both 
 under and over us. 
 
 About this time the sentry was relieved, which we took 
 as a sign that our vigil was drawing to a close. 
 
 Two men came into the garden, and in the voice of one 
 of them I recognized the "municipal" who had given Cor- 
 nichon his instructions. 
 
 " My poor Cornichon, I am very sorry," said he. " I 
 gave orders for you to be relieved at two o'clock, but, owing 
 to some misunderstanding — " 
 
 Here Cornichon, who was much more sans-culotte than 
 soldier, broke in with angry exclamations and swore with 
 great energy, only desisting when the officer bade him go 
 into the house and get something to eat and drink. He 
 added that the search was just beginning, and that as the 
 owners and occupiers were ladies, it would be strange if 
 they did not find a man "hidden away somewhere." 
 
 The two quitted the garden in company, leaving the new 
 sentry at his post, and soon the kindly sun arose and 
 cheered us with his rays. But the light brought with it
 
 142 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 fresh alarms. The ledge round the roof was so low that 
 the inadvertent raising of a hand might be fatal, and we 
 presently discovered that we could be seen from the dormer- 
 window of a neighboring house. And then, as though this 
 were not bad enough, a tame raven, coming from I know 
 not where, must needs alight on the summer-house and 
 begin croaking and hopping and circling over our heads, as 
 if it were bent on betraying us to the enemy. 
 
 Fortunately, the sentry was too dense to take a hint or 
 understand aught save plain French. Nevertheless, the 
 raven persevered, and so angered me that I risked my life 
 in a vain attempt to wring his neck. 
 
 After a while the searchers came into the garden, and, as 
 we gathered from their exclamations, thoroughly explored 
 it, without, however, finding anything. Neither had they 
 found aught compromising in the house. 
 
 When they reached our billet the " municipal " told his 
 men to look inside, which they did, and presently reported 
 that it contained only plants, a few chairs, and an old 
 billiard-table. The walls and floors seemed to be solid, 
 and there were no receptacles where weapons or persons 
 could be stowed away. 
 
 " I didn't suppose there were. Nobody would be such a 
 fool as to hide there, much less on the roof," said the "mu- 
 nicipal,'' carelessly. " However, we may as well look ; and 
 then we can take our oath that we have left no corner un- 
 searched." 
 
 Seeing that the supreme moment was at hand, Morgen 
 and I cocked our pistols, and agreed, in a suppressed 
 whisper, that I should fire first. 
 
 Meanwhile the raven was perched on the cornice, with 
 his head on one side, quietly observant of the scene below. 
 
 " Is there a ladder anywhere about ?" continued the 
 "municipal." "Ask the concierge. But no! We can do
 
 THE RAVEN I43 
 
 without. You are a tall fellow, Simon. Plant yourself 
 against the wall, and let Cornichon get on your shoulders. 
 A glance will be enough." 
 
 On this the raven, to our unspeakable amazement, 
 flapped his wings, and at the top of his queer voice 
 croaked, " Vive k ?'oi / Vive le roi ! Vive le roi f 
 
 The sans-culottes laughed boisterously, and their chief, 
 after an exclamation of surprise, shouted excitedly : 
 
 " That confounded bird belongs to some royalist. Shoot 
 it !" Whereupon the men blazed away unanimously, and a 
 dozen bullets whizzed over our heads, all wide of the mark, 
 while the cause of the commotion flew away croaking, 
 defiantly, " Vive le roi f 
 
 " Idiots ! Triple brutes ! I did not mean you were all to 
 shoot," exclaimed the now exasperated "municipal." "We 
 shall have all the Blues and sans-culottes in the quarter 
 here. And what will they think of us ? Bird - shooting 
 when the country is in danger !" 
 
 " And nothing bagged !" put in Cornichon. 
 " And nothing bagged. It is simply disgraceful. Twelve 
 shots, and the raven not a feather the worse. I am ashamed 
 of you. Run into the Rue du Bac, Cornichon, and tell the 
 people there it was all a mistake — a false alarm ; they need 
 not come, and — We will go ; let us clear out." 
 
 And, to our great contentment, they did clear out. But 
 whether the raven's opportune diversion had saved our 
 lives or merely secured us a short respite remained to be 
 seen. The too conscientious " municipal " and his sans- 
 culottes might return and complete their work, and we had 
 to consider whether it were better to stay where we were a 
 while longer, or make an effort to escape while the coast 
 was clear.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 
 
 " How can we get away while so many of these cutthroats 
 are about ?" asked Morgen. " The streets are swarming 
 with them. We should be pounced upon at once ; whereas 
 if we stay here — " 
 
 " And how if the ' municipal ' and his men come back and 
 have a look up here ?" said I. 
 
 " Let us hope they won't." 
 
 "By all means. Let us get down — it isn't much of a 
 drop ; let us get down and hide in the billiard-room, which 
 they have explored, and then if they return and try the 
 roof, they will draw blank. Anyhow, I am going. You can 
 please yourself." 
 
 But I was so stiff with the cold and the rain and the long 
 lying on my leaden couch that I could hardly move. My 
 limbs were benumbed, my back ached horribly, and it was 
 all I could do to get up. Morgen was even worse. The 
 cold had got into his bones. He groaned audibly, and was 
 so stiff withal that I had to help him to rise. 
 
 I dropped first, and alighted safely. Morgen came down 
 clumsily and fell on his back, so that I had to set him on 
 his legs and help him into the billiard-room, which we no 
 sooner entered than the sound of approaching footsteps 
 again fell on our ears, sharpened by apprehension and 
 anxiety. Not daring to show my face at the window, I 
 looked through the keyhole, and to my great gladness spied 
 the concierge — alone. He came opposite the door, and, 
 raising his head, said, in a loud whisper :
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 1 45 
 
 " Are you still there, gentlemen ?" 
 
 "No, we are here," I answered, in a voice hoarse and 
 hollow with cold and exhaustion, whereupon the concierge 
 jumped like a shot man, and looked as scared as if he had 
 seen something uncanny. 
 
 " A thousand thunders ! How the devil did you get 
 there ?" he exclaimed. 
 
 I opened the door and told him. 
 
 " You did quite right to get down, although I don't think 
 the brigands are likely to return," said he. "Why should 
 they ? They have not left a corner unsearched. They 
 even tapped the walls, looked under the beds, and over- 
 hauled the water-butts. And as I have double-bolted the 
 front gate, they cannot take us by surprise, so come in and 
 have something warm ; you look as though you needed it." 
 
 Our looks did not belie our feelings. We accepted the 
 proposal with heartfelt thanks, and followed our conductor 
 to his lodge, where he presently set before us a breakfast 
 of coffee and rolls. But we were not to enjoy it undis- 
 turbed, for even as I raised the cup to my lips there came a 
 great knocking at the outer gate. 
 
 " A thousand thunders ! I do believe the beggars are 
 back again," said the porter. " Get onto my bed in the al- 
 cove, and draw the curtains." 
 
 Which we did quickly, and the porter went to open the 
 gate. 
 
 " What now ? You are surely not going to make another 
 search ?" Ave heard him sav. 
 
 " Only the roof of the billiard-room, or summer-house, or 
 whatever you call it," replied the intruder. " It is all non- 
 sense. There is nobody there ; we know that well enough. 
 But Citizen Blaize, our 'municipal,' you know, is so con- 
 foundedly particular, and that cursed raven put it out of 
 his head for a moment. So he has sent me back, the devil 
 
 10
 
 146 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 take him, as though I were not tired to death already. Is 
 there a ladder anywhere about ?" 
 
 " Oh dear, yes ; I can accommodate you with a ladder. 
 Come along." The two went ofif together, to return in five 
 minutes laughing and joking. 
 
 " I hope Citizen Blaize will be satisfied now," said the 
 concierge. 
 
 "At any rate, he ought to be," returned the gendarme. 
 " He may safely take his oath that there isn't a ci-dri'ant 
 on these premises — except your mistress, and she doesn't 
 count. The republic is not afraid of old women. While 
 as for arms, we haven't found so much as a pistol. W'e 
 shall trouble you no more. Citizen Concierge." 
 
 And then the wicket went to with a bang, the bolts were 
 shot, and as Morgen and myself emerged from the alcove 
 the porter returned to his lodge. 
 
 "Now you may finish your breakfast with easy minds," 
 said he. " A narrow shave, though. But for that blessed 
 raven we should all three have been walked off to the Ab- 
 baye, or some such infernal place. I never thought they 
 would want to search the roof, and I put you there partly 
 for that reason, but mainly because if you had been lagged 
 the marchioness would not have been compromised." 
 
 " The marchioness ! \\'ho is she ?" 
 
 " Madame la Marquise de Malartie is the owner of this 
 house and my mistress, and I, Auguste Rod, have the hon- 
 or to be her concierge and major-domo." 
 
 " Does she know we are here ?" 
 
 " Not yet. There was no time to tell her last night. Mon- 
 sieur de Castellan was so pressed that I had to act on my 
 own responsibility, and as he got me this place many years 
 ago, and is, besides, a friend of the family, I could not re- 
 fuse him." 
 
 " And for your kindness we are very grateful, Monsieur
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 147 
 
 Rod. You have rendered us a service that we shall never 
 forget. But what will Madame la Marquise say ?" 
 
 "I have no fear on that score. I should have, though, if 
 I turned you away. She is a brave old lady, and, though 
 past eighty, as high spirited as a young girl. Her sons and 
 grandsons emigrated two years ago, but Madame la INIarquise 
 declined either to accompany or follow them. She says 
 that in Paris she was born and in Paris she will die. You 
 should have heard her talk to the Blues. She told them 
 that if they wanted what of life remained to her they might 
 take it. She had had more than her share." 
 
 We went on talking for an hour or more. Rod was a 
 genial old man, and mentioned, among other things, that we 
 need be under no apprehension as to his fellow-servants ; 
 they were both trustworthy and discreet. Moreover, the 
 household was small, and the marchioness neither visited 
 nor received, save two or three old friends, whose calls were 
 few and far between. 
 
 This was satisfactory — in a sense. We were safe for the 
 moment ; but Rod said nothing as to the duration of our 
 stay, and if we had to turn out while the streets were still 
 thronged with sans-culottes and gendarmes, we should sure- 
 ly fall into their hands. On the other hand, as he had kept 
 his promise to M.de Castellan, and given us quarters at great 
 risk and on his own responsibility, I felt that it would not be 
 right to trespass further on M. Rod's hospitality, and so said. 
 
 " No, no ; that would not do at all," he answered, smiling. 
 " You would be lagged before you got to the end of the Rue 
 du Bac. And how could I look Monsieur de Castellan in 
 the face ? No ; you must remain with us until the visits 
 are over, and the brigand who was here just now said they 
 would go on for at least twenty-four hours longer; and until 
 they are over it won't be safe for anybody who isn't either 
 a sans-culotte or a Blue to show his nose outside,"
 
 143 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 After a \Yhile the concierge left us to ourselves, and, pres- 
 ently returning, said that he had informed Madame la Mar- 
 quise of all that had befallen, and that she would be pleased 
 to see me in her room and hear an account of my advent- 
 ures from my own lips. 
 
 So to her room we went. 
 
 Rod announced me in my own name, which I had confided 
 to him, and the marchioness received me with the high-bred 
 courtesy of the old rkgime. She was wonderfully well pre- 
 served, and had no doubt once been eminently handsome — 
 was, indeed, handsome still. For though her hair was white 
 and her face wrinkled, her cheeks had a richer color than 
 those of many a young girl, her eyebrows, like her eyes- 
 were black, and her teeth seemed perfect; but she was four- 
 score and four, and appearances are sometimes deceptive. 
 Only her hearing was defective, and during our long talk 
 she made me draw my chair close to the fauteuil on which 
 she reclined. 
 
 Madame de Malartie was the most curious lady, young 
 or old, I ever encountered. After relating my recent ad- 
 ventures, I had to give her a full account of my birth, par- 
 entage and education, and answer many searching questions 
 in relation thereto. When she had, so to speak, pumped 
 me drj'', she took a pinch of snuff from a richly jewelled 
 snuff-box. and reciprocated my confidences by telling me 
 much about her family and herself, the which, as I am re- 
 lating my story, not hers, I need not repeat. 
 
 Then she tapped me playfully on the cheek, and said 
 that she once knew somebody whom I greatly resembled, 
 and inquired whether Colonel Balthazar von Astor, who was 
 killed at Rosbach, was of my family. 
 
 " He was my grandfather, madame," said I. 
 
 " You — you Colonel von Astor's grandson ! Man Diat, 
 ff ! on (//eu, how time flics! I knew him well. We danced
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 149 
 
 a minuet together the day Louis XV, was married— I 
 dare not say how many years ago. Yes, we were good 
 friends, your grandfather and I. He was a fine young fel- 
 low in those days, and I rather think he admired me." 
 
 " And no wonder. His grandson admires you now, ma- 
 dame," quoth I. 
 
 " So you can pay compliments," said she, with a smile 
 which showed that mine had not displeased her. " Well, I 
 dare say you have met worse-looking women of my years. 
 But tell me, now ; is there not some young girl whom you 
 really admire — in your heart you know ? How about this 
 Mademoiselle de la Tour, of whom you were speaking? 
 Ah, I can read in your eyes that I have guessed aright. 
 And 3^ou blush ! Oh, what an innocent youth ! In my time 
 a gentleman of your age could no more blush than a bronze 
 statue. I must make the young lady's acquaintance. I am 
 sure she is charming, or your eyes would not brighten at 
 the mere mention of her name. I shall call on her — trust 
 me to find a pretext — and bring her here. I am sure she 
 is dying to see you again. I know that if, when I was six- 
 teen, it had been my good-fortune to save the life of a hand- 
 some young soldier, I should have lost my heart to him." 
 
 " But you don't know Mademoiselle de la Tour," I stam- 
 mered, in confusion, being quite taken aback by the mar- 
 chioness's badinage ; yet I had wit enough to refrain from 
 saying what was on my lips : " She is not that sort of girl." 
 
 " I know what you mean," she said, laughing, as I thought, 
 rather maliciously. " You mean that this demoiselle is per- 
 fection and not as other demoiselles are. It is well for you 
 to think so, my dear sir. But I, who was once a young girl 
 myself, may perhaps know more of the female heart than 
 you ; and I would wager my best fan against your epaulettes 
 that the beautiful Angelique is this very moment thinking 
 of her handsome soldier. Why, I was half in love with
 
 150 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 Colonel Balthazar, and he and I were never the hero and 
 heroine of a romantic adventure. And you are very like 
 him. We shall see. . . . Now remember that you are my 
 guest so long as you like to stay. You are safer here than 
 anywhere else in Paris. Those Jacobins won't trouble us 
 any more — for the present ; they have a certain respect for 
 me because I did not emigrate with the others, and I dare 
 say they think I am too old to conspire against their pre- 
 cious republic. Rod will find you a room; there are enter- 
 taining books in the library, you may walk in the garden 
 without being observed, and for further distraction you will 
 have my company." 
 
 I protested that this was the distraction I should most 
 prefer; and after I had ascertained that Morgen might also 
 have quarters in the house until it was safe for him to leave, 
 the interview came to an end.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 QUITE OUT OF THE QUESTION 
 
 On the night of September 2d began the massacre of 
 the captives who had been marked for slaughter. The dom- 
 iciliary visits resulted in the arrest of ten thousand persons, 
 mostly men, of whom twelve hundred were killed in cold 
 blood by a band of murderers appointed for the purpose 
 and paid by the municipality. Among the victims were 
 fifty-four of my comrades of the regiment. They met their 
 fate as became men who had done their duty and feared 
 death less than dishonor. 
 
 Captains von Durler and Ghibelin, and a few others, who 
 had evaded capture or escaped from custody on the loth, 
 were still at large, and eventually succeeded in reaching 
 England. But, so far as I know, not one of those who 
 were put in prison after the fall of the Tuileries was left 
 alive. 
 
 With my own eyes I saw several carts pass down the Rue 
 du Bac laden with mutilated and uncoffined corpses — a sight 
 which grieved me so bitterly and roused in my mind such a 
 tempest of impotent rage that I became quite sick, and had 
 to keep my room for two days. 
 
 To my grief and pain were added the tortures of sus- 
 pense. I knew not what was become of the vicorate, nor 
 how it fared with Ange'lique and her mother ; and while 
 Paris was under the heel of martial law I could inquire 
 neither by deputy nor in person. 
 
 The massacres ceased on the 6th ; people breathed again ; 
 and on the following day I received, through M. de Cas-
 
 152 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 tellan, a note from De Lancy, asking me to meet him an 
 hour after sunset, near tlie statue of Louis XV., the spot 
 where my uncle had died, and where the scaffold was after- 
 wards erected on which Louis XVI. and so many other vic- 
 tims of the Terror perished. A strange rendezvous ! Yet, 
 being the last place in Paris where the police would look for 
 fugitives, and only a short walk from the Rue du Bac, well 
 chosen. 
 
 We had no difficulty in finding each other, and my friend, 
 putting his arm silently within mine, led me into one of the 
 darkest alleys of the Champs- Elysees. 
 
 " Why didn't you come to the house ?" was the first ques- 
 tion I asked him. 
 
 " What house ?" 
 
 "The Marchioness de Malartie's." 
 
 " I knew not you were there, or where else, so wrote un- 
 der cover to Monsieur de Castellan, for I felt sure that the 
 good-fortune which has served you so well in the past w^ould 
 not desert you now." 
 
 "You, too, have been fortunate. How did you evade 
 capture ?" 
 
 " By doing as you did : hiding in the chestnut-tree." 
 
 " And ISLidemoiselle de la Tour ; have you seen her 
 lately ? Is she well >" 
 
 " Poor AngL-lique !" 
 
 " Poor Angclique ! Good heavens ! you surely don't mean 
 that they took her — and — and — " I exclaimed, in dismay. 
 
 " Softly, my friend, softly ! Somebody might hear — and 
 let us speak English. Angclique has not been taken by the 
 sans-culottes, but her mother has been taken from her by 
 death. I told you that my sister had never recovered from 
 the shock of her husband's murder. The shock of the dom- 
 iciliary visit the other night killed her outright. She is to 
 be buried to-morrow, and I am going to the funeral."
 
 QUITE OUT OF THE QUESTION 1 53 
 
 " Are you mad ? They will take you." 
 
 " I don't think so. I shall go as one of the undertaker's 
 assistants. Yet, whether I be taken or not, I am going ; 
 and we are not nearly in so much danger as we were a few 
 days ago. The police, like other folk, are too full of the 
 domiciliary visits and the massacres to think of you and me. 
 For the moment, at least, we are out of their minds. Do 
 you know that at every crisis of the revolution the thieves 
 of Paris reap a rich harvest ? The police are too much oc- 
 cupied and preoccupied to look after them. No, I am not 
 afraid of being arrested. My chief concern is for my niece. 
 Her parents had never many friends in Paris, and the few 
 they had are either dispersed or in prison. I know of no- 
 body to whom I should like to confide her, and yet she 
 cannot remain in that house alone." 
 
 To this I made no answer, but it suggested an idea; and 
 after a short silence I asked De Lancy — rather, I think, to 
 his surprise, for the question seemed absurdly irrelevant — 
 whether he knew the Marquise de Malartie. 
 
 " I never met her," said he ; " but I have heard of her 
 In her early days she was a celebrated beauty, and a prom 
 inent figure at the court of Louis XV." 
 
 " She belongs to a good family, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Well, I am afraid some of them were not quite as good 
 as they might have been. But it i^ an ancient and distin- 
 guished family — sixteen quarterings, at the least — and I be- 
 lieve the marchioness is a fine old lady. Why do you ask?" 
 
 " As she is my hostess, and has been very kind to me, I 
 naturally want to know something about her." 
 
 "Of course. Well, you may take my word for it that 
 your hostess is of the highest respectability. I wish I could 
 find somebody like her to take 'charge of my niece. But it 
 was not to discuss my family affairs that I brought you here. 
 I want to talk to you about the project."
 
 154 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " You are still resolved to carry it out, then ?" 
 
 ** More so than ever, because, see you, we shall never 
 have so favorable a time. These horrible massacres are 
 sure to produce a reaction ; public opinion condemns them ; 
 the police will be less vigilant; the Jacobins, believing that 
 they have struck terror into their opponents, less virulent ; 
 moreover, the approaching election of a second National 
 Convention will keep them busy with their own affairs for 
 some months to come. Unfortunately, several of the friends 
 on whose help I was counting are either dead or in prison. 
 But there are enough good men and true left to enable us 
 to make the attempt with a fair chance of success, and in 
 the course of a few days, when our preparations are further 
 advanced and I have got your passport, I shall ask you to 
 proceed to Rouen, possibly to Dieppe." 
 
 And then De Lancy went into details — but as, except 
 so far as will shortly appear, they did not concern me per- 
 sonally, I need not set them down here — and unfolded an 
 ingenious device for keeping out of difficulties during the 
 remainder of our stay in Paris. 
 
 In the meantimes we were to keep in -doors, but after 
 dark it would be quite possible to traverse Paris from end 
 to end without danger, simply by steering clear of patrols 
 and police-stations. To this end the vicomte had marked 
 on a map of the town, or got somebody to mark for him, 
 the parts to be shunned ; for only the principal thorough- 
 fares were patrolled, and the number of police-stations being 
 limited and their whereabouts known, these points of peril 
 might, with a little contrivance and forethought, be generally 
 avoided. As for casual rencounters with mobs and sans- 
 culottes, we should have to take our chance like everybody 
 else, and, if necessary, use our arms. 
 
 Ue Lancy gave me the map and advised me to con it 
 carefully. He had got it off by heart.
 
 QUITE OUT OF THE QUESTION 155 
 
 Then we separated ; and while he went to the Villa de la 
 Tour, which was hard by, I hied me to my quarters, wishing 
 he had asked me to accompany him, and pondering a scheme 
 suggested by Angelique's bereavement. 
 
 The next day I had the honor of dining with my hostess, 
 and set it going. When she began, as usual, to rally me 
 about Mile, de la Tour, I mentioned her mother's death, 
 dwelling, as I thought at the time, rather eloquently on her 
 desolate condition and De Lancy's dilemma. 
 
 Mme. de Malartie rose nobly to the occasion. 
 
 " Poor girl ! I shall call on her to-morrow. Her mother 
 was a De Lancy, you say," she said. "And her father — 
 wasn't he colonel of the regiment of Anjou ?" 
 
 "Very likely. I know he was a soldier and fought in 
 several campaigns." 
 
 " The same. I felt sure I was right. And the colonel's 
 mother was a De Launai. I remember her well. I shall 
 introduce myself to Mademoiselle de la Tour as an old 
 friend of her grandmother's, and ask her to make my house 
 her home until " — regarding me significantly — " she is oth- 
 erwise provided for." 
 
 Albeit it suited my purpose to feign ignorance of the 
 marchioness's meaning, I saw what she was driving at, and 
 began to suspect that the old lady was an inveterate match- 
 maker. But she was going too fast, since, though Angelique 
 was a charming girl, to whom I was greatly obliged and 
 whom I greatly admired, I refused to admit, even to myself, 
 that I had fallen in love with her. 
 
 So soon as I got back to England I meant to enter the 
 British army. After what I had gone through, my father 
 would surely waive his objection to buying me a commis- 
 sion — I might even obtain one without purchase. Soldier- 
 ing was my passion, and Colonel Maillardoz had said, one 
 day at mess, that a young soldier had no business to weaken
 
 156 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 his nerve by taking a wife. M5' uncle went even further : 
 he held that a soldier ought not to marry until he was gdod 
 for nothing else — that is to say, until he was either invalided 
 or retired on half-pay. 
 
 With these opinions I fully agreed at the time, and tried 
 to persuade myself that I held them still. I liked Angelique 
 immensely ; and had we been a little older, and my position 
 less perilous — But no, that was quite out of the question, 
 A young soldier with his way to make had no business to 
 think of love and marriage. Besides, what would my father 
 and mother say ? " Quite out of the question," I repeated, 
 resolutely, yet somewhat ruefully withal. But there was no 
 reason why I should not try to console Angelique by being 
 a brother to her — a devoted brother. Yes, that was it ; we 
 would be brother and sister. Nothing less, nothing more.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 KNIGHTS OF THE DAGGER 
 
 Mme. de Malartie's mission met with the success 
 which it deserved. Mile, de la Tour and the Vicomte 
 de Lancy accepted her proposal with many expressions 
 of gratitude and pleasure, and on the following day Ange- 
 lique took up her abode in the Rue du Bac. But she 
 was greatly changed, poor girl, and the sadness of her 
 looks cut me to the heart. Her face was pale and worn, 
 her eyes bespoke deep sorrow, and every now and then 
 tears filled them and trembled on her long lashes like dew- 
 drops on blades of grass. The old brightness and alertness 
 which had captivated my fancy were under a cloud, and she 
 looked as quiet and subdued as a nun who has just taken 
 the veil. 
 
 Yet her face was still lovely; to me its pathetic expres- 
 sion seemed a charm the more, and roused a tumult in my 
 breast which, had Angelique been less reserved and circum- 
 stances more propitious, might have been immediately fatal 
 to my soldierly resolve. 
 
 I pitied her now as much as I admired her before, and 
 pity, they say, is akin to love. But she chilled my ardor 
 with short answers, spoken with averted eyes, and behaved 
 so like a typical young girl that I began to think I had 
 either made a wrong estimate of her character or that my 
 society was disagreeable to her, and ended by becoming as 
 cold and distant as herself. It was evident that she did not 
 care for me, and I said to myself that I did not care for 
 her. Nevertheless, I was continually thinking about her
 
 i;S FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 '0 
 
 and watching her — when she was not lookuig ; the mere rus- 
 tle of her gown made my heart flutter, to my great annoyance 
 and despite strenuous efforts to be as indifferent to her as 
 she seemed to me. 
 
 Disappointed with Angelique and vexed with myself, I 
 yearned for change and excitement, and when, after a much 
 longer delay than I expected, the vicomte looked in one 
 evening and asked me to go out for a walk, I knew there 
 was something in the wind, and assented gladly. 
 
 On this Angelique, who was present, threw off her apathy 
 and became again the Angelique of the Villa de la Tour, 
 
 "Whither are you going?" she asked, anxiousl3\ 
 
 " For a walk." 
 
 " And for something more. What is afoot .'' You are 
 going into some fresh danger. Oh, uncle, haven't you 
 done enough, you and Monsieur Astor.^ Why risk your 
 lives in a hopeless enterprise ?" 
 
 "We are not going to risk our lives. All the young 
 Jacobin bloods and a vast number of sans-culottes have 
 marched to the frontier. Paris is tranquil and the streets 
 are safe. We are merely going out for a walk, and to meet 
 some friends to whom I want to introduce Monsieur Astor. 
 He will be back by eleven," 
 
 " From seven to eleven ! That will be a long walk, my 
 uncle," 
 
 " Well, I don't think we shall be walking all the time. 
 One doesn't make a call in five minutes." 
 
 "True; and these friends — who are they?" 
 
 " You never met them ; their names arc unknown to 
 you," 
 
 " You mean they are political friends ?" 
 
 "And what then? You are too curious, my dear An- 
 gelique, Young ladies cannot expect to know everything. 
 . . , J]ut we must go, so good-bye for the present."
 
 KNIGHTS OF THE DAGGER I59 
 
 " Better bring your arms," he whispered to me, when we 
 were out of the room. " Paris is quiet, but to be defence- 
 less invites aggression. I will wait for you at the gate." 
 
 I ran for my pistols and dagger, and joined De Lancy at 
 the point he had mentioned. 
 
 " Angelique is not only too curious, slie is too sharp," he 
 observed, as we turned into the Rue du Bac. " She has evi- 
 dently a shrewd suspicion as to the object of this walk of 
 ours." 
 
 " Why not tell her, then ? You say she is discreet." 
 
 " Because I am not alone. Others are concerned in this 
 affair, and the secret is not mine. And even though it were, 
 it would not be right to confide it to Angelique, Let her 
 rest ill ignorance, and then if there should be a fiasco and a 
 betrayal, which Heaven forefend, and she is questioned, she 
 can truthfully say she knows nothing. So don't you let her 
 worm aught out of you when you return. . . , Were you 
 growing impatient ?" 
 
 "A little; also anxious. It is ten days since we met in 
 the Place Louis XV., and delays are dangerous." 
 
 " You are right; so is undue haste. And it were folly to 
 make the attempt before our plans are fully matured, and in 
 enterprises of this sort the slowest marchers mark the time; 
 but now everything is in order, and to-night the final dis- 
 positions will be made." 
 
 " The friends to whom you are going to introduce me are 
 conspirators, then ?" 
 
 " Yes, I think it is well for you to make their acquaint- 
 ance, and one of them will be your companion." 
 
 " My companion ?" 
 
 " On your journey to Rouen and Dieppe. It is always 
 well to have a companion, and the highways are not safe 
 for a solitary horseman." 
 
 After a walk of some forty minutes, in the course of which
 
 l6o FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 we neither encountered a patrol nor passed a police post, 
 we reached a street which I did not recognize — a street of 
 gloom}' houses, half hidden among trees and begirt with 
 high walls. Here we paused, and after listening for a min- 
 ute and looking carefully all round, the vicomte knocked 
 thrice at the side door opening into one of the gardens, 
 and then gave a low whistle. 
 
 " Who goes there ?" demanded a voice from inside. 
 
 " Friends from afar." 
 
 " How many ?" 
 
 " A knight and a new-comer. Two out of thirteen." 
 
 " Be pleased to enter." 
 
 The door opened, and we went in. 
 
 " Good-evening, gentlemen," said the janitor. 
 
 *' Good-evening," answered De Lancy. " So you are the 
 guardian of the door to-night, Deville. Any of the others 
 arrived ?" 
 
 " You and your friend make twelve." 
 
 " So there is only one late. That is well. Let us go 
 on." 
 
 The vicomte put his arm within mine, and led me tow- 
 ards the house which, as I presumed, was our goal. 
 
 " Why did you describe yourself as a knight and me as a 
 new-comer ?" I asked. 
 
 " Because I am a sworn member of the society and you 
 are not. Some time ago a number of gentlemen, mostly 
 members of the old Monarchical Club, entered into a com- 
 pact to defend the king from his enemies ; and when the 
 palace was invaded by the mob, in February, 1791, several 
 of them on being arrested were found to be armed with 
 daggers, whereupon the people dubbed them ' Knights of 
 the Dagger.' The appellation bestowed on these gentle- 
 men in derision we have adopted in earnest, as signifying 
 that we war against the revolution to the knife."
 
 KNIGHTS OF THE DAGGER l6l 
 
 Before the door we found another guard, armed with 
 pistols and a pike. To him De Lancy whispered a word 
 which I failed to catch, and then we passed inside and 
 entered a large dining-room, where the Knights of the Dagger 
 were assembled. It was more like a drinking-party than a 
 gathering of plotters. Mostly young men, they laughed 
 and joked and rallied each other and helped themselves to 
 wine as though they had not a care. There was nothing to 
 show that they were engaged in an enterprise which might 
 cost every one of them his life, and as yet not a mention was 
 made either of the cause or the king. 
 
 This went on until we were joined by a new arrival — doubt- 
 less the laggard of whom the guardian of the gate had spoken 
 to De Lancy. 
 
 Then somebody bolted the door, and the vicomte, tak- 
 ing the head of the table, raised his hand, and the clamor 
 ceased. 
 
 " Gentlemen, the council is complete," said he. "Let us 
 to business." 
 
 " Has your friend taken the oath. Monsieur le Presi- 
 dent.?" demanded one of the knights. 
 
 " No ; but, as you are aware, he has given his proofs, and I 
 will answer for his loyalty with my life. Nevertheless, if it 
 be your pleasure — " 
 
 " It is one of the rules that nobody shall be present at our 
 proceedings who has not taken the oath, and in my opinion 
 the rule ought to be obeyed." 
 
 The murmurs of assent that followed this observation 
 showed that it was also the opinion of the meeting. 
 
 " May I say you will take the oath ?" inquired De Lancy, 
 turning to me. 
 
 I answered that I should like to hear it read first, and, on 
 the president's request, the knight who acted as secretary 
 read it. I forget the words of the oath, but, generally, it 
 II
 
 1 62 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 consisted of a solemn and comprehensive promise of secrecy, 
 "on your honor and by all that you hold most sacred," 
 touching whatever concerned the Knights of the Dagger 
 and their doings, of fealty to the King of France, and an 
 undertaking to execute justice, at the bidding of an Exec- 
 utive Committee, on whomsoever should disobey its orders 
 or betray its secrets. 
 
 " You will take it, of course !" observed De Lancy. 
 
 " The first part of it, with pleasure," said I. " But not 
 being a Frenchman, I cannot promise blind obedience to 
 the King of France. Neither can I undertake to 'execute 
 justice.' That may mean committing murder, and I am a 
 soldier, not an assassin." 
 
 Whereupon angry exclamations, and so great an uproar 
 that De Lancy had much ado to restore order. I proposed 
 to withdraw, but he would not hear of it, and made a short 
 yet vigorous speech which reconciled the meeting to my 
 conditions, and I took the oath — with the exceptions I have 
 named. 
 
 Then followed a long conversation, from which I gathered, 
 among other things, that the flight of the royal family was 
 to take place during the following week, when several of the 
 knights, who were also members of the municipality and the 
 National Guard, would be on duty at the Temple. But with 
 this I had nothing to do, my part in the business only be- 
 ginning when the fugitives were out of Paris, as I have 
 already explained. 
 
 In the meanwhile I was to make an excursion into Nor- 
 mandy, accompanied by M. Candolle, one of the knights 
 and a very fine young fellow, to whom I had the pleasure 
 of being introduced. At Rouen it would be my duty to 
 arrange with the king's friends for his reception and safe- 
 guarding. At Dieppe I was to see the oflicer in command of 
 the detachment of the Swiss Guard, which had been sent
 
 KNIGHTS OF THE DAGGER 163 
 
 thither at the beginning of August, and arrange with him, 
 if I could, to meet the royal party on the Rouen road, and 
 protect their embarkation for England. This done, or left 
 undone, as the case might be, I was to return as far as 
 Flins, a village some twenty-three miles from Paris, where I 
 should be met with the latest news and my final instructions. 
 
 Two passports had been obtained, one in the name of 
 *' Lebrun " for me, the other in the name of " Larrey " for Can- 
 dolle. In these documents we were described as commer- 
 cial travellers. My " line" was woollens ; Candolle's jewelry. 
 And in order to keep up the characters assigned to us we 
 were to carry in our saddle-bags a few samples of our re- 
 spective specialties. 
 
 Our credentials consisted of certain passwords and letters, 
 the latter so worded that they could be understood only by 
 the initiated. 
 
 It was further arranged that Candolle and I were to 
 meet on the following evening, equipped for the journey, 
 at a house in the Rue de Lille, where we should find two 
 good horses waiting for us, also arms and ammunition. 
 
 As our papers were quite in order, it was not supposed 
 that we would have any difficulty in passing the barrier. 
 
 This concluded the business of the evening, so far as I 
 was concerned, and as it was past ten and the vicomte had 
 promised that I should be in my quarters before eleven, I 
 took my leave. De Lancy walked with me to the garden 
 gate. 
 
 " You know your way home," he said ; " past the king's 
 garden, and then as we came. It is rather roundabout, yet 
 safe withal, which the direct road is not." 
 
 " I shall return the way we came, of course. I can find it 
 easily. I know Paris, and I have studied your map." 
 
 "Good! And now I have a last counsel to give you. 
 We are not likely to meet again before the affair comes off.
 
 164 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 I hope we shall succeed, and, in any event, I trust no harm 
 will befall you. But a wise general always reckons with 
 the possibility of failure, and if you should by any mis- 
 chance fall into the toils, answer no questions. Don't ad- 
 mit that your true name is not Lebrun, don't admit that 
 you were ever in the regiment ; in short, give no informa- 
 tion whatever about anybody or anything. Also, be careful 
 what you say to my niece and the marchioness. As you 
 wend homeward j'ou will have ample time to invent some 
 excuse for your abrupt departure. And now, my dear friend, 
 good-night and a safe journey." 
 
 And then we parted, and I set my face towards the Rue 
 du Bac. 
 
 Invent some excuse for my abrupt departure ! It would 
 have been much more to the purpose if De Lancy had pro- 
 vided me with an excuse. It were easy to satisfy Mme. de 
 Malartie. I might say that as I had obtained a passport 
 it behooved me to quit Paris at once, where, as she knew, I 
 was in continual danger. But this story would not satisfy 
 Angelique, who was already suspicious, and, as her uncle 
 had said, too sharp to be easily deceived. On the other 
 hand, I could not tell her the truth without breaking the 
 oath which was fresh on my lips, while if I refused to an- 
 swer her questions we should probably part bad friends, 
 and as we might never meet again (for I had no illusions 
 as to the desperate character of the adventure in which I 
 had embarked) this was not a pleasant prospect. 
 
 It was a hard problem to solve, and I was so intent on 
 its solution that I did not give sufficient heed to my course, 
 with the result that I presently found myself opposite a 
 police-post, in front of which a gendarme, armed to the 
 teeth, was pacing. He had also his eye on me, for I no 
 sooner caught sight of him than he cried out, " Who goes 
 there ? Halt !"
 
 KNIGHTS OF THE DAGGER 165 
 
 I went on unconcernedly, as though the words had been 
 addressed to somebody else ; on which he called out to his 
 comrades inside : 
 
 " Here is a fellow passing who disregards my challenge." 
 
 "■ Allotis ! Let us lag him," was the answer, and the next 
 moment three or four gendarmes rushed out of the house, 
 shouting : " Who goes there ? Halt, or it will be the worse 
 for you." 
 
 As I knew that it would be a vast deal worse for me if I 
 did halt, and fighting a whole police-station was not to be 
 thought of, I tightened my belt, drew a deep breath, and 
 put my best foot foremost.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 TILL WE MEET AGAIN 
 
 I HAD little to fear from the gendarmes. I knew that, 
 barring accidents, I could shake them off in a few minutes. 
 My sole danger, as I thought, was meeting a patrol or com- 
 ing to another police-post, and so getting between two fires. 
 To avoid this peril I tried to regain the route from which I 
 had so stupidly wandered. The streets were almost desert- 
 ed, and if it had not been nearly full moon I should have 
 slipped into a doorway or dark entry, and so given my pur- 
 suers the slip. 
 
 But the light that enabled them to see me enabled me to 
 see them, and I presently perceived, to my great satisfac- 
 tion, that they were losing ground, and would soon be lost 
 to sight — all save one, who kept well ahead of his com- 
 panions, and was evidently a fair runner and in good wind. 
 He went resolutely, too, as though he had a mind to run 
 me to ground or be in at the death. So I made a spurt, 
 thinking to shake him off as I had shaken off the others. 
 But he also made a spurt, and it was a better one than mine. 
 The in-door life of the last six weeks had impaired my wind, 
 and I found, to my disma}', that I could run no faster and 
 very little farther. 
 
 The gendarme gained on me ; in a few seconds his hand 
 would be on my shoulder, and I was so blown that in a 
 rough-and-tumble I should probably come off second best. 
 On the other hand, I did not want to shoot the man — he was 
 only doing his duty. Moreover, a pistol-shot would rouse the 
 neighborhood and put the other gendarmes on my track.
 
 TILL WE MEET AGAIN 1 67 
 
 What should I do ? 
 
 A look forward answered the question. The street we 
 were in was straight and gloomy, narrowing at the end al- 
 most to a point, and shutting out the moonlight. 
 
 For this narrow point I made, and when I reached it put 
 my back against the wall and my hand on my dagger. 
 
 The gendarme, a big man, followed panting, with low- 
 ered head, like a charging bull, his arms hanging loosely 
 by his side. When he caught sight of me he stopped 
 short. 
 
 " At last I have you ! Surrender, you scoundrel, or — " 
 
 He said no more, for even as he spoke I dashed the hilt 
 of my dagger in his face with all the strength I could mus- 
 ter. With a hoarse cry he staggered backward, then fell in 
 a heap on the pavement ; and I went my way. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards I knocked at Mme. de Malartie's 
 gate. 
 
 " You are late, monsieur," said Rod, as he let me in. 
 
 "Only a little past eleven, I think. The ladies are gone 
 to bed, I suppose ?" 
 
 " It is nearly twelve. The ladies retired at eleven. Mad- 
 emoiselle de la Tour's maid was here a little while ago, in- 
 quiring whether you had arrived. Is monsieur aware that 
 his right hand is covered with blood ?" 
 
 " God bless me ! So it is." 
 
 " I hope you are not hurt .''" 
 
 " Only a scratch ; I must have knocked it against some- 
 thing. Good-night, Monsieur Rod." 
 
 And with that I also retired, and, after washing my hand 
 of the gendarme's blood, went to bed, and lay awake half the 
 night thinking over the events of the evening, and trying to 
 invent a plausible excuse for my impending departure. Af- 
 ter inventing a dozen, each less likely to find acceptance 
 than the other, I decided to be perfectly straightforward,
 
 l68 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 and answer whatever questions Ang^lique asked me, save 
 such as were barred by the tenor of my oath. 
 
 I did not see the ladies until we met at second breakfast. 
 Mile, de la Tour looked pensive and anxious, yet alert and 
 collected withal. Madame la Marquise was curious and 
 querulous, from which I concluded that Ang^lique had 
 made her the confidante of her misgivings. 
 
 After we had exchanged the usual greetings, I opened 
 the ball by telling the marchioness, point-blank, that having 
 at length succeeded in obtaining a passport, I proposed to 
 quit Paris. 
 
 " You are going to leave us !" she exclaimed, with a start 
 of surprise and a look of displeasure. " \\'hy > Are you 
 not happy with us ?" 
 
 " Thanks to your kindness and hospitality, Madame la 
 Marquise, I have been almost too happy here," I replied. 
 " But, as you know, I am under a ban, and were I arrested 
 here not only would my life be forfeit, but you and your 
 household gravely compromised." 
 
 " Why should you be arrested ? Do you suppose any of 
 my people are capable of denouncing you ?" 
 
 " Not at all ; and, if it depended on them — But I may 
 be recognized the next time I show my face at the window 
 or pass out at your gate ; and it behooves me to get away 
 while I have the chance. The police are in an indulgent 
 mood just now, but there is no telling how long it will last, 
 and the passport which is good to-day may to-morrow be 
 rendered useless by some new regulation." 
 
 " Well, I cannot ask you to stay here at the risk of your 
 life. Yet we shall be sorry to lose you," glancing at An- 
 g^lique. " You are going to England ?" 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " You only hope so," said Angelique, joining for the first 
 time in the conversation.
 
 TILL WE MEET AGAIN 169 
 
 " I intend to go to England, mademoiselle, as soon as 
 possible. But one cannot be sure. I may meet with un- 
 expected difficulties." 
 
 "Now tell me. Monsieur Astor, has not my Uncle Claude's 
 call here last night, and what happened afterwards, some- 
 thing to do with your proposed departure for — England ?" 
 
 " What happened afterwards ?" 
 
 " Yes. You did not return till midnight, and one of your 
 hands was covered with blood. ... I beg your pardon ; it 
 is no business of mine. I have no right to question you, 
 only—" 
 
 (This in a low voice, obviously inaudible to the marchion- 
 ess, whose hearing was dulled by age.) 
 
 " Pray continue, mademoiselle. I fully admit your right 
 to question me," quoth I. " Don't I owe you my life ? And 
 it is pleasant to think that you take an interest in my wel- 
 fare. You were saying — " 
 
 Angelique blushed, lowered her eyes, and seemed uncer- 
 tain whether to yield to my request or not. But instantly 
 regaining her self-possession, she looked me frankly in the 
 face, and observed, quietly : 
 
 " I will be plain with you. Monsieur Astor ; yet I cannot 
 admit that because I was so fortunate as to render you a 
 service, you are in any way accountable to me for your con- 
 duct. But I know my uncle — know him and love him. He 
 is a brave and chivalrous gentleman, also an ardent loyal- 
 ist and a fanatical hater of the revolution. To rescue the 
 king he would stop at nothing, neither sparing himself nor 
 anybody else. He thinks that if his majesty could be got 
 out of the country the revolution would collapse. I don't. 
 However, that is nothing ; I am only a girl, and my uncle is 
 quite within his right. But you are not a Frenchman, and 
 considering what you have already done and suffered, and 
 that, as you say, you are under a ban, I don't think you
 
 lyo FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 should be asked to take part in a second plot for the king's 
 rescue — especially when success is almost past praying for. 
 There is a plot, is there not ?" 
 
 "That is a question I am not at liberty to answer, made- 
 moiselle. You will understand me when I say that it con- 
 cerns not myself alone." 
 
 "There is a plot, then, and you are engaged in it. I 
 thought so; and this supposed journey to England is mere- 
 ly a pretext." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, mademoiselle, I do really propose 
 to go to England." 
 
 " You propose ! Well, I have no more to say, only I am 
 very sorry. Seeing that you saved my uncle's life, I don't 
 think he ought to let you risk yours in one of his hopeless 
 enteriDrises." 
 
 "Don't say hopeless, mademoiselle." 
 
 " Yes, hopeless. The king was born under an evil star. 
 He brings misfortune to all who try to serve him. Besides, 
 how can you get him out of the Temple, guarded as he is ? 
 And if you do get him out he will commit some stupidity, 
 as he did at Varennes, and be retaken. The mere attempt 
 will make the Jacobins more furious than ever, and Heaven 
 only knows where it will end." 
 
 Ange'lique sighed deeply, and her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "Well.'"' said the marchioness, looking at us. 
 
 " We were talking about my journey," said I. " Made- 
 moiselle de la Tour thinks I may not reach the end, but I 
 am more hopeful ; and the risk of going away is at least 
 no greater than the risk of remaining in Paris." 
 
 " You know best about that, monsieur; and though I shall 
 be sorry for you to go, it would be a pity for you to stay 
 and fall into the toils. But you will return ? We shall meet 
 again ?" 
 
 " I hope so — when these troubles are over."
 
 TILL WE MEET AGAIN 171 
 
 " And they will be over soon. The great powers of Eu- 
 rope cannot suffer anarchy to prevail in France. They will 
 overthrow the republic and restore the monarchy, and then 
 we shall settle accounts with these wretches who imprison 
 their king and put ladies and gentlemen to death in cold 
 blood," said the old lady, fiercely, her eyes flashing in antici- 
 pation of victory and revenge. 
 
 Later in the day I waited on the ladies to take my leave. 
 The marchioness gave me her hand to kiss, saying, kindly, 
 she would not bid me farewell, only " good-bye till we meet 
 again " (au revoir'), adding : "You may be back sooner than 
 you expect." 
 
 "Perhaps," quoth I ; yet my heart did not echo the wish 
 which the words implied. If I returned to Paris sooner 
 than I expected it could only be as a prisoner. 
 
 Angelique seemed very subdued ; her face was pale and 
 her eyes avoided mine, but her hand lingered in my grasp. 
 
 " Good-bye till we meet again," said I. 
 
 '■'• Au revoir, monsieur," she murmured. And then I hur- 
 ried away, for the hour of my departure had struck, and my 
 heart was heavy with the thought that we might never meet 
 again. 
 
 I found Candolle at the rendezvous in the Rue de Lille. 
 The horses were ready, and, after transferring my scanty 
 kit to the saddle-bags, loading and priming my pistols, and 
 buckling on the sword which my companion had brought 
 me, we set out on our journey. 
 
 I had withdrawn my deposit from M. Dufour a few days 
 previously, and sewn the greater part of the money in the 
 lining of my vest. 
 
 As we crossed the Place Louis XV. in the deepening 
 twilight, I saw that the king's statue had been removed, 
 and in its room loomed a scaffold, gaunt and hideous, with 
 two skeleton-like arms painted red and pointing skyward.
 
 172 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " The new guillotine," observed Candolle ; " and they 
 have renamed the square Place de la Revolution." 
 
 When we sighted the barrier my companion made the 
 obvious remark that once through we should be all right. 
 
 " Is there any doubt about our getting through ?" I asked. 
 
 " Well, our passports are in order ; but if the brigadier 
 in charge is a pedant, a martinet, or a fool, he may make 
 difficulties and turn us back or detain us, pending inquiry." 
 
 " Which would probably mean making the acquaintance 
 of the new guillotine. Anything were better than that. I 
 don't intend either to be detained or turned back. If the 
 people at the barrier make any objection, let us brush them 
 aside and ride on. Our horses are fresh, we are well 
 armed, and night is nigh. What say you. Monsieur Can- 
 dolle ?" 
 
 " Yes, with all my heart. With liberty before, and that 
 thing behind us, there can be no two opinions. Better 
 wait till those market-carts are out of the way, though."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 AT THE GOLDEN PIG 
 
 Candolle's passport passed muster, but to mine the 
 brigadier demurred. 
 
 " Blue eyes !" said he. " How can one tell the color of 
 your eyes through those big spectacles ? Six feet high ! 
 How can one measure the height of a man on horseback ? 
 I should like to have a closer look at you, Citizen Com- 
 mercial Traveller. Be good enough to dismount and step 
 into the bureau." 
 
 This proposal did not suit me, and I was going to bid 
 the fellow get out of my way or I would ride him down, 
 when Candolle whispered, "Try backsheesh" — a hint on 
 which I promptly acted. 
 
 " N^othing would please me better than to step into the 
 bureau. Citizen Brigadier, if I were not pressed for time," I 
 returned. " I have a business appointment at St. Germain 
 for nine o'clock, which it were as much as my place is 
 worth to miss. Here is another credential which, I trust, 
 will satisfy you as touching my eyes and inches." 
 
 And with that I leaned over my saddle-bow, and tipped 
 him a hundred-franc assignat, worth about thirty. 
 
 " It is well," crumpling up the assignat in his hand and 
 returning the passport. " You can pass on. Citizen Com- 
 mercial Traveller, but I advise you to keep a sharp look- 
 out; there are robbers on the Rouen road." 
 
 "Also at the barrier of the Champs-Elysees," thought I. 
 
 " That was a happy thought of yours, Monsieur Can- 
 dolle," I remarked, as soon as we were under way again.
 
 174 FOR HONOR AND LI IE 
 
 "All the same, I should have liked to ride over that rascal- 
 ly black-mailer." 
 
 " So should I, and we could have got away. But the 
 guard would have fired, and one of their bullets might have 
 found a billet. Anyhow, there would have been a great to 
 do, and inquiries made concerning Auguste Lebrun and 
 The'ophile Larrey, which might have led to discoveries and 
 ruined the plot." 
 
 This observation naturally led to a talk touching our own 
 part in the plot, and the details of our itinerary. Our in- 
 structions were to wait at St. Germaine-en-Laye and sleep 
 at Flins, a village some three-and-twenty miles from Paris. 
 On the following day, which would be Tuesday, we were to 
 push on to Rouen, a march of more than fifty miles ; but 
 as our horses were fit, they would be able to do it without 
 distress. Moreover, they would have two days' rest at 
 Rouen, where I should hire another horse, or post-chaise, 
 to take me to Dieppe, going thither one day and returning 
 the next. 
 
 This would bring us to Thursday night, and by sunset on 
 Friday we meant to be back at Flins, or, rather, at La Soli- 
 tude, a manor-house hard by belonging to one of the con- 
 spirators, where we expected to find a dozen or more of the 
 Knights of the Dagger, who were to proceed thither mean- 
 while in twos and threes, so as to avoid attracting atten- 
 tion. 
 
 Now the chief, indeed the sole, danger which threatened 
 the royal party after leaving Paris was recapture, either by 
 pursuing gendarmes, or the populace or authorities of any 
 of the villages through which they might pass. 
 
 Hence the necessity of an escort. 
 
 Once beyond the barrier, the king and queen, their two 
 children, and Mme. Elizabeth, the king's sister, were to be 
 transferred from the market-cart, their first conveyance, to
 
 AT THE GOLDEN PIG 1 75 
 
 two carriages, and driven to St. Germaine-en-Laye, where 
 fifteen knights would be on the lookout for them, and 
 thenceforward ride with them. But as this was to be at 
 dead of night, the fugitives were not likely to be recognized, 
 and, in any case, the fifteen defenders might be trusted to 
 clear a way for them. 
 
 At the manor-house of La Solitude there was to be a 
 short halt for rest and refreshment. The escort, reinforced 
 by our party, would then be placed under my command, 
 and as all the regular troops were at the front, and the 
 local authorities en route would be unprepared for resist- 
 ance, we should be able to requisition horses for the journey 
 to Rouen, which we hoped to accomplish in seven or eight 
 hours. 
 
 A two-mile covert trot brought us to St. Germaine, 
 where we had proposed to halt for an hour ; but as there 
 were several gendarmes hanging about, and the inn where 
 we pulled up was crowded with revellers, we rode on till we 
 came to the Golden Pig, a lonely hostelry at the edge of 
 the forest. Its aspect was not inviting, but our wants be- 
 ing modest — a bite and sup for ourselves, and a feed for 
 our horses — we thought it might serve, so led them into the 
 tumble-down old stable, inhabited at the moment by four 
 other horses and a very dirty old groom, who met us at the 
 door with a lantern. 
 
 When we had seen our beasts watered and fed we went 
 into the hostelry — an ancient, low-roofed, timbered building, 
 dilapidated and picturesque. The landlord, a beetle-browed, 
 obsequious ruffian, whose countenance did not inspire con- 
 fidence, ushered us into the travellers'-room, where we 
 found four men playing cards. Being booted and spurred, 
 they were doubtless the owners of the horses we had seen 
 in the stable. 
 
 On entering, we gave them the usual greeting, which
 
 176 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 they duly returned, and, after taking a look at us, went on 
 with their card-playing. While we were waiting for the 
 frugal supper — a pottage, an omelet, and a bottle of wine — 
 which the innkeeper had promised to serve in " some min- 
 utes," I observed that Candolle was closely watching the 
 four gamblers, and that, though they seemed to be intent 
 on their play, they were closely watching us. 
 
 After this had gone on for a while, Candolle, exclaiming 
 something about dying of hunger, abruptly left the room, as 
 I supposed, to look after the supper. 
 
 *' Is it ready ?" I asked when he returned. 
 
 " Nearly. It will be served in a few minutes," he said; 
 and then, lowering his voice to a whisper, " I have been 
 doing what we should have done at the outset — securing 
 our pistols. You heard the brigadier's warning about rob- 
 bers on the Rouen road. Well, regard those fellows. Have 
 they the air of honest travellers ?" 
 
 " They don't look like gentlemen, if that's what you mean." 
 
 " They look like highwaymen, in my opinion ; though, 
 look you, they may be police-agents in the pay of the 
 Foreign Office." 
 
 " In that guise, and in this place ? \A'hat can they want 
 here ?" 
 
 " To rob a courier. An ambassador's courier is as sacred 
 as his master — neither gendarme nor soldier dare lay hands 
 on him. So when the government wants to overhaul the 
 British ambassador's despatches, for instance, they arrange 
 to have his courier robbed en route to the coast, either by 
 gendarmes got up as highwaymen, or robbers with whom 
 the police have an understanding. That is a common dip- 
 lomatic dodge nowadays. But as couriers don't often 
 travel to England via Dieppe, these fellows are probably 
 bona fide brigands, wherefore I thought it just as well to 
 secure our pistols."
 
 AT THE GOLDEN PIG 177 
 
 " You surely don't think they would fall on us here ?" 
 
 "That would not suit the landlord's purpose. But if, as 
 I suspect, he is an accomplice, he or his hostler might tam- 
 per with our arms. One has heard of such things being 
 done." 
 
 "You are quite right, and I cannot sufficiently applaud 
 De Lancy's foresight in providing me with a comrade so 
 much more familiar with the ways of the road than myself. 
 Here comes the supper." 
 
 When the viands came in the card-players went out, each 
 man as he passed our table saluting, and politely wishing 
 us good-night. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards we heard their horses clatter 
 out of the inn yard. 
 
 " From the way in which that tall, red-haired chap is set 
 up I fancy he has served," said I. 
 
 " He is probably a deserter ; there are lots of them about 
 — possibly a gendarme in disguise." 
 
 When we had finished our supper and paid the score we 
 went round to the stable for our horses. 
 
 To my consternation my horse came out dead lame. 
 
 " What can be the matter ?" I exclaimed. " He was quite 
 sound on the road." 
 
 "Lame horses always go worse after a rest," said the 
 hostler, who was standing by with a lantern. 
 
 Candolle ran his hand down my horse's near fore-leg, 
 dwelling for an instant on the fetlock-joint. Then, spring- 
 ing up, he seized the hostler by the throat and pinned him 
 against the wall. 
 
 " You scoundrel !" he hissed. " I know what you have 
 done, and I have a great mind to run you through. Bring 
 your lantern here." 
 
 The fellow, who trembled like a leaf, held the light, while 
 Candolle, with his penknife, severed a piece of packthread 
 12
 
 lyS FOR HOXOR AND LIFE 
 
 which had been tied so tightly round the fetlock-joint that 
 it cut into the flesh. 
 
 " Now the horse is sound again. If this villain were not 
 an old man I would kick him into fits. Allons, Monsieur 
 Lebrun ! Let us mount and be gone." 
 
 "You were right, Monsieur Candolle," I began, when we 
 were out of the inn yard. 
 
 " Drop the Candolle, if you please, my dear sir. Do let 
 us be careful. I nearly called you Astor just now." I 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Monsieur Larrey. I was going to 
 observe that this incident confirms your suspicions. The 
 card-players are certainly highwaymen, and the hostler is 
 in league with them, probably the landlord also. Are they 
 lying in wait for us? That is the question." 
 
 " Here are your pistols. They are all right. I have primed 
 them afresh. They probably are lying in wait for us, though 
 I don't think the villains will attack us openly unless the 
 odds are vastly in their favor. Plunder, not lighting, is their 
 game." 
 
 " You mean that they may be in ambush and fire at us 
 from behind the trees. If so, we had better hurry on ; the 
 faster we go the less likely we are to be hit." 
 
 "And the more likely to be entangled in the cords which 
 they may stretch across th€ road." 
 
 "The devil they may! You seem to know the ways of 
 these gentry. Monsieur Larrey." 
 
 " So I ought, seeing that I served four years in the gen- 
 darmerie." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear it. You are the right man in the 
 right place. I gladly place myself under your orders, and 
 if we can have a brush with the rogues and give them a les- 
 son I shall be all the better pleased, always provided that 
 our journey is not delayed." 
 
 " I will try to meet your wishes, and I have bethought
 
 AT THE GOLDEN PIG 1 79 
 
 me of a plan. As for the brush, we shall see. Now the 
 four men are ahead. I heard them leave the inn yard, and 
 know by the sound of their horses' hoofs that they turned 
 in this direction. They may have joined forces with an- 
 other body, and consider themselves strong enough to bar 
 our way and bid us stand and deliver. But that makes no 
 difference to my plan, which is this : to ride on at full speed, 
 keeping a sharp lookout for the possible cord, pausing now 
 and then to listen until we hear the tramp of their horses, 
 or, it may be, catch a glimpse of them in the distance. It 
 is a clear night." 
 
 " And then charge them V 
 
 " No; turn back." 
 
 " What ?" 
 
 " I said turn back, making as much noise as we can. If 
 they are what we take them for, they will think we are afraid 
 and ride after us, and we, when we get to a suitable place, 
 will pull up and back our horses among the trees." 
 
 " I see ; and as the brigands pass, charge them on the 
 flank." 
 
 " If there are not more than four." 
 
 " Say six. They will be taken by surprise, remember, 
 and you and I are good for half a dozen highwaymen any 
 da3^ We shall have two of them down before they can 
 draw, and the others will bolt." 
 
 " Very well. But if there are more than six we had bet- 
 ter let them alone and go on our way. Our mission is im- 
 portant, and we have no right to run unnecessary risks." 
 
 " True. It is a thing agreed, then. We fight six and 
 run from seven. And now, shall we trot ?" 
 
 " No ; rather let us go at a hunting gallop" (canter). " The 
 more noise we make and the sooner we sight them the 
 better."
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 DOGGED 
 
 It was a clear night — one of those still autumnal nights 
 when unnumbered millions of stars, shining in a purple sky, 
 give nearly as much light as the moon ; so that where the 
 road was straight we could discern, vaguely, objects two or 
 three score yards ahead of us. Owing to the absence of 
 distracting noises and the lightness of the wind, which blew 
 caressingly in our faces, it was also a good night for hear- 
 ing. As we pulled up after our preliminary canter we could 
 hear the melancholy howling of a hound which must have 
 been at least a mile away, and the patter of leaves as they 
 fluttered softly to the ground. 
 
 But nothing more. 
 
 " Forward again !" said Candolle ; and on we went. 
 
 Then a second pull up. 
 Hark ! Wasn't that the neigh of a horse }" 
 Yes. They must be going at a walk, or we should hear 
 the tramp of their horses. Another g'a/o/f de chasse !'^ 
 
 We rode, bending forward in our saddles, listening in- 
 tently and straining our eyes for a first sight of the sup- 
 posed brigands. 
 
 " Halt !" exclaimed Candolle. " Don't you see something ?" 
 
 " Yes, but I cannot make out what. It moves, though." 
 
 " From us or towards us ?" 
 
 " From — No ; towards us." 
 
 " So I think. Anyhow, they must have heard us, and 
 if they don't see us — They do see us, and are turning 
 hitherward. Right-about face and full gallop !" 

 
 DOGGED l8l 
 
 A spin of ten minutes brought us to a bend where the 
 road was fringed with trees and bushes. Here we drew 
 rein, and took post among the timber in sucli fashion that 
 thougli our view backward was unimpeded, we were well 
 hidden. 
 
 Soon we heard the galloping of our pursuers' horses, and 
 presently we perceived them, at first as a dark, moving mass, 
 soon more distinctly. At their head rode one whom, from 
 his build and height, I took to be the supposed deserter. 
 
 *' One, two, three, four, five," muttered my colleague. " No 
 more. Good. The odd ruffian has been on the lookout 
 down the road. They are riding like the devil. So much 
 the better." 
 
 " Steel or fire ?" I asked. 
 
 " Fire first, then at 'em with the steel." 
 
 We let the red-haired man go by (which, in my opinion, 
 was a mistake), and so soon as the main body came over 
 against us, emptied our pistols into the thick of them; then 
 drew and charged. Two of the rascals went down like nine- 
 pins, one was unhorsed, the third galloped away, and the 
 riderless steed turned tail and ran back the way he had 
 come. 
 
 " Enough !" said Candolle, sheathing his sword. " Those 
 fellows will trouble us no more. Let us go." 
 
 We went on steadily, now and then trotting, yet mostly at 
 a walk, and reached the neighborhood of Flins shortly be- 
 fore midnight ; but not liking to disturb the inmates of the 
 manor-house at so late an hour, we put up at the village inn, 
 where the accommodations were quite as good as we had 
 expected, and the fare vastly better than that of the Golden 
 Pig. The innkeeper made curious inquiries as to the con- 
 dition of the road, and seemed surprised that nobody had 
 meddled with us ; for we deemed it unadvisable to tell him 
 of our encounter with the highwaymen. It would not have
 
 l82 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 suited our purpose to be interviewed and cross-questioned 
 by the local brigadier of gendarmerie, and perhaps invited 
 to pay a visit to the local justice of the peace. 
 
 After sleeping six hours we started for Rouen, travelled 
 by easy stages, baiting or gruelling the horses at the end of 
 every ten miles, and reached our destination at nine o'clock, 
 post-meridian, feeling very fit, and our horses looking none 
 the worse for their journey. "Fair and easy go long in a 
 day," as old Wiggin used to say when I set out for Man- 
 chester. Lancashire and Wiggin and my father and the 
 print-shop seemed a long way off now. 
 
 The first thing I did after supper was to write home. I 
 thought I might have an opportunity of despatching a letter 
 from Dieppe. As my missive might fall into unfriendly 
 hands, I could say no more than that I was safe and sound, 
 and so soon as I was quit of a business which it concerned 
 my honor to see through I should make for England. 
 
 Leaving Candolle to arrange matters at Rouen, I set out 
 early next morning in a two-horse post-chaise for Dieppe, 
 whither I arrived shortly before noon, and presented my 
 passport to the guard of the city gate, hoping that, as at 
 Rouen, I should be admitted without further trouble. But 
 the brigadier said I should have to accompany one of his 
 men to the police-office in order that the document might 
 be vised. To my dismay, for I had once been stationed a 
 month at Dieppe, it was on the cards that I might be rec- 
 ognized. And the inspector, or commissionnaire, or what- 
 ever might be his rank, into whose room I was shown, stared 
 at me so hard, and read and reread the passport so dili- 
 gently, and asked me so many questions, as to render it 
 evident tliat he either suspected something or wanted some- 
 tiiing. Putting the more favorable construction on his pro- 
 ceedings, I let a hundred-franc assignat flutter unobtrusively 
 on his table. He seemed not to see it, yet became won-
 
 DOGGED 183 
 
 drously affable withal, endorsed and returned my passport, 
 saying it was quite in order, and bowed me politely into the 
 street. 
 
 So far good. I was free of Dieppe, and made my way 
 with an easier mind to the barracks, where I found Von 
 Affry, Rusca, Karrer, and other old comrades. The dear 
 fellows put their arms round me and welcomed me as one 
 from the grave, for they thought I was among the dead. 
 Rusca was affected to tears, and endless were the questions 
 they asked me about the events of the fatal loth and what 
 had befallen me since. 
 
 It was a meeting darkened by sorrowful memories ; yet I 
 felt an inexpressible pleasure in meeting again, probably 
 for the last time, these true friends and brave brother-sol- 
 diers, and they, though grieving sorely for fallen comrades, 
 were consoled by the glory which their heroic deaths had 
 won for themselves, the regiment, and their native land. 
 
 "I think there is none here who would not say, 'Let my 
 last end be like theirs,' " said Karl von Affry, solemnly ; and 
 all murmured assent. 
 
 When I told them of my errand my friends looked grave. 
 
 " Do you know, boy, that you are asking us for our lives ?" 
 exclaimed Von Affry. " If we connived at the escape of 
 the king we should be massacred to the last man. Not that 
 this consideration would hinder us from doing our duty; 
 but what you want us to do is not our duty. The monarch 
 whom we served is deposed and a captive. Nor is that all. 
 The regiment has been disbanded by the de facto government 
 of France, the cantons have ordered us to return to our 
 homes, and so soon as we get our back pay and safe-con- 
 ducts — which may be to-morrow — we shall quit the country." 
 
 This was unanswerable. I had nothing to urge against 
 it, and could only ask Von Affry whether he thought, if the 
 king came to Havre, he could find a craft to carry him to
 
 184 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 En"-land, and what force would be needed to protect his em- 
 barkation. 
 
 " Finding a craft is a mere matter of money. At the mo- 
 ment there is no miUtary force here, but Louis is not popu- 
 lar at Dieppe, and you would need at least a hundred reso- 
 lute well-armed men to insure his safety." 
 
 Thus Von Affry, a man of ripe experience and many years 
 my senior, answered my query, and next inquired why, see- 
 ing that the regiment had ceased to exist, I did not return 
 straightway to England, instead of mixing myself up in mat- 
 ters which concerned Frenchmen only, adding that I should 
 never have such a chance, and that he could introduce me 
 to a smuggler who, for a thousand francs in gold, would 
 undertake to land me at Newhaven, 
 
 On this I told him of the condition on which I had ob- 
 tained my passport, and of my great desire to lend a hand 
 in the rescue of the queen. 
 
 Von Affry said that he, too, would risk his life to rescue 
 Marie Antoinette. " But has it occurred to you," he went 
 on, " that if this attempt fails her captivity will be made all 
 the harder, and that the Jacobins will have a plausible pre- 
 text for further measures of repression ? And the chances 
 are about a thousand to one that it will fail. You must see 
 that yourself. It is conceivable that one of the prisoners 
 might be smuggled out of the Temple — but five, and two 
 of them children ! As for De Lancy, I have no doubt he is 
 a man of honor ; any more than that he is a fanatic. And 
 fanatics, whether they call themselves royalists or religionists, 
 stick at nothing, and to serve cause or creed will sacrifice 
 their friends with as little scruple as they would sacrifice 
 themselves. As for this passport, for which you have to 
 pay so high a price, don't you think that if Jacques Le- 
 brun were to become ' suspect ' it would be a danger rather 
 than a safeguard ? And it will be very strange if among
 
 DOGGED 185 
 
 all these conspirators there is not at least one babbler or 
 traitor." 
 
 All this was so obvious that I wondered that it had not oc- 
 curred to me. Yet as touching De Lancy, I called Von Af- 
 fry's attention to the fact that the vicomte had twice found 
 me a hiding-place when I was in imminent danger, and 
 that though he might have acted disingenuously in the mat- 
 ter of the passport, I could not honorably withdraw from 
 the engagement I had made with him. On the other hand, 
 if the fugitives did not appear at Flins at the time appointed 
 for their arrival I should feel myself at liberty to abandon 
 the enterprise and leave the country. 
 
 " You need not put it in that way," said Von Affry, dryly. 
 " The enterprise will have abandoned you. You are quite 
 right, though, to prefer honor to safety. Having given 
 your word, you must keep it; and as we may not be here 
 when you return, I shall introduce you to a trustworthy 
 man, one Blondin, smack- owner and smuggler, who for a 
 fair consideration will run you across the Channel." 
 
 I accepted the offer and saw the man, and on the mor- 
 row bade my friends a sorrowful farewell and posted back 
 to Rouen, disconsolate and unhappy, for the thought sug- 
 gested by Von Affry that the detection of the conspiracy 
 might make it worse for the queen, and perchance lead to 
 a renewed persecution of the royalists, weighed heavily on 
 my mind. 
 
 Candolle was greatly disappointed with the result of my 
 mission. So far as promises and predictions went he had 
 been more fortunate. The royalists whom he had seen 
 were of opinion that the king would be well received at 
 Rouen, and undertook that a contingent of them should 
 join his escort and go with him to Dieppe, albeit there was 
 a difficulty about arms which suggested grave doubts as to 
 its fighting efficiency.
 
 l86 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 This was no more than De Lancy knew already. The 
 main object of our expedition was to secure the co-opera- 
 tion of the remnant of the regiment at Dieppe (for which 
 purpose, now that my eyes were opened, I saw that the vi- 
 comte had inveigled me into his plot). Failing therein, we 
 had failed in all. But we could do no more, and started 
 early next morning (Friday) on our return journey. The 
 horses being fresh, we made good progress, and nothing 
 worth mentioning happened until between two and three 
 o'clock in the afternoon, when we were some fifteen miles 
 from our destination. At this point we began to think that 
 we were being shadowed. We never looked backward 
 where the road was straight without seeing a solitary horse- 
 man, who always adapted his speed to ours : if we went 
 slow, he went slow; if we went fast, so did he; yet he never 
 came near enough to allow us to distinguish his features. 
 
 This was disquieting, and might mean danger ; so in order 
 to shake the fellow off we stopped at a road-side inn, put 
 up our horses, and remained there until after dark. After 
 this we saw the solitary horseman no more, but every now 
 and then we heard the sound of hoofs in our rear which 
 warned us that he was still on our track. 
 
 The position of the manor-house of La Solitude had 
 been so minutely described to us that we were able to find 
 it without asking questions. It lay half a league from the 
 main road, and to get there we were to take the first lane 
 to the right beyond Flins; and unless we wanted our fol- 
 lower to dog us to the door, it was absolutely necessary to 
 throw him out ; to which end I proposed that we should 
 turn into the fields, which were divided from the road by a 
 narrow ditch. My companion assenting, we put our horses 
 at it, and, though not exactly steeple-chasers, they got over 
 — mine with a stride, Candolie's with a scramble. Then 
 we sent them on at a hand -gallop, trusting to their in-
 
 DOGGED 187 
 
 stinct and superior eyesight to keep us out of difficulties. 
 Our confidence was not misplaced. The sagacious creat- 
 ures pulled up short at the brink of an unjumpable chasm, 
 whereupon we took once more to the road, and presently 
 reached the lane leading to La Solitude. 
 
 So far as we could tell, the stratagem had succeeded ; 
 since, though we listened intently, we heard no more pursu- 
 ing footsteps. Candolle thought the fellow was a police 
 spy, and had followed me from Dieppe. I thought the 
 same ; also that he was none other than our friend with the 
 red hair, and that he and his pals had been more or less on 
 our track ever since we left St. Germain-en-Laye. 
 
 To this Candolle demurred : but he could not deny that it 
 was an ominous incident, and might mean danger — possibly 
 disaster.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 BETRAYED 
 
 The mansion-house of La Solitude was an ancient ivy- 
 clad mansion of many rooms, with an inner court, large 
 gardens, and extensive stabling. To the rear was a farm- 
 stead surrounded by high walls, and the remains of a moat 
 and other indications showed that once upon a time La 
 Solitude had been a strong place. It was probably still 
 strong enough to withstand any engines of war less formi- 
 dable than battering-rams and cannon. 
 
 The owner and occupier of the place was a ci-devant 
 noble, one Count Agenor de Veridet, now plain Monsieur 
 or Citizen Veridet, yet still addressed in the old style by 
 his household and his friends. 
 
 It need hardly be said that he was an ardent royalist; 
 none other would have risked life and property by receiv- 
 ing, or agreeing to receive, the fallen monarch in his house, 
 and conniving at his escape ; for this constituted treason 
 to the nation, and its penalty was confiscation and death. 
 
 The count, a stately middle-aged gentleman, received us 
 with exquisite courtesy, and introduced us to his wife and 
 daughters, two charming young ladies whom I was rather 
 surprised to find there, as in the event of things going 
 wrong they would probably be involved in their father's 
 ruin. 
 
 Several of our party had already arrived — gallant young 
 fellows, full of life and energy, and sanguine as to the re- 
 sult of our enterprise. They reported that everything was 
 going on well at Paris; the "evasion," as they called it,
 
 BETRAYED I 89 
 
 would take place on the following night, and there was no 
 reason to suppose that the police had the least inkling of 
 what was going on. 
 
 We should know more in the morning when the others 
 came, and De Lancy, who foresaw everything, had organ- 
 ized a reciprocal service of homing pigeons ; that is to 
 say, there were pigeons at La Solitude which, when re- 
 leased, would fly to a certain house at Paris, and pigeons 
 there whose home was La Solitude. They could go from 
 one place to the other under the hour. This neces'sarily 
 implied a code of signals. A white ribbon or thread round 
 a pigeon's neck would signify "all right;" a green one, that 
 the flight was deferred until the next night ; red would 
 mean danger; black, disaster. 
 
 Neither M. de Veridet nor the Knights of the Dagger at- 
 tached so much importance to the failure of our mission 
 and the appeai'ance of the supposed spy as did Candolle 
 and myself. They thought that the twenty-five or thirty 
 men of the escort, reinforced by the promised Rouen con- 
 tingent, would be quite strong enough to protect the king 
 from mob violence, while as for spies, they were everywhere 
 and dogged everybody. Moreover, the man who had fol- 
 lowed us might be a higliAvayman or a highwayman's tout. 
 
 In any case, the incident was not sufficiently grave to 
 justify the despatch of a danger signal, which would mean 
 in effect the abandonment of the enterprise, and, short of 
 that, nothing could be done. 
 
 This was not my opinion ; but being an outsider and in 
 a minority of one, I deemed it expedient to hold my peace. 
 
 During the morning came the remainder of the party. 
 The last-comers, who arrived a little before noon, brought 
 satisfactory news. All was going on well. According to 
 the latest arrangements, the royal family would arrive at St. 
 Germain-en-Laye about midnight, and we might look for
 
 IQO FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 them and the first division of the escort towards two o'clock 
 on Saturday morning. They would stop at La Solitude 
 only just long enough to change horses and breakfast — prob- 
 ably not more than half an hour. 
 
 It was regarded as a good augury that the gentlemen of 
 the escort had all passed the barriers without difficulty, and 
 that the few gendarmes whom they encountered on the way 
 neither questioned nor seemed to note them. 
 
 So far good ; and when our host announced at second 
 breakfast that a white-ribboned pigeon had just "homed," 
 confidence became certainty, and the king's health was 
 drunk with great enthusiasm. 
 
 The day was spent in playing tennis and raquette, and 
 strolling in the grounds. A few of us visited the stables 
 and inspected the count's stud. After remarking that the 
 horse I had ridden seemed to be somewhat under my 
 weight, j\I. de Veridet kindly offered to place at my dispos- 
 al an animal of greater power and substance, yet well-bred 
 withal, which had already attracted my attention. He was 
 a big horse every way, and so high (nearly seventeen hands) 
 as to deserve his name of Goliath, His only fault was a 
 "bit of a temper," to which, knowing that temper often 
 indicates quality, I did not object. 
 
 " As you are to command the escort, you should have a 
 horse of commanding presence," said the count, with a smile. 
 
 It was an offer not to be refused, and I accepted it with 
 gratitude. 
 
 At the edge of dark, Candolle and I took a walk down the 
 lane as far as the high-road. 
 
 It was a narrow, tortuous old lane, winding for the most 
 part through a wood, but dipped as it neared the main 
 road, forming a hollow way bordered by high banks, mak- 
 ing at this point, as I pointed out to Candolle, a fine defen- 
 sive position.
 
 BETRAYED 191 
 
 " A handful protected by a breastwork of fallen trees, or 
 an overturned cart, might hold this lane against a host," I 
 remarked. 
 
 " Provided the host had no field-guns." 
 
 " Of course. I assume equality of weapons. And now 
 tell me frankly, Candolle, what you think of the outlook." 
 
 "I regard it as fair — very fair, indeed; almost too much 
 so, indeed." 
 
 "You mean disaster is still possible." 
 
 "That is obvious. There may be a breakdown at the 
 last moment, though our young friends at the manor-house 
 don't seem to think so. I mean it looks as though the po- 
 lice were asleep, and somehow I don't think they are. Any- 
 how, I shall be greatly relieved when I hear the clatter of 
 the king's escort and the sound of his carriage wheels." 
 
 And then we retraced our steps, thinking anxiously of the 
 morrow. 
 
 Nobody went to bed; but knowing that they would prob- 
 ably get no rest till the next night but one, the more sen- 
 sible of the party had stolen a few hours' sleep during the 
 day. 
 
 We supped at midnight, and between one and two o'clock 
 went to the stable and saddled our horses, and saw them 
 watered and fed. 
 
 These preparations made, we betook ourselves to the 
 front of the house and listened in excited silence for the 
 ring of hoofs, the rattle of wheels, or what sound might her- 
 ald the king's coming. 
 
 Two o'clock went, then half-past two, then three. 
 
 An hour's delay ; that was nothing. The fugitives might 
 easily have been delayed an hour in Paris or on the road. 
 But as the night sped and the great clock struck quarter 
 after quarter, and four o'clock came and went, and the 
 stillness of the night remained unbroken, hope waned,
 
 192 
 
 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 and the most sanguine began to think something had gone 
 
 wrong. 
 
 Yet as no danger signal had appeared, there was still 
 room for hope. 
 
 At length the count proposed that some of us should ride 
 a few miles towards Paris, and see whether his expected 
 guests were on the way; to which I agreed, albeit the pro- 
 ceeding seemed rather absurd ; for if they were actually en 
 route they had every reason for pushing on, and naught we 
 midit do could hasten their arrival. 
 
 All wanted to go ; but thinking a large party unnecessary, 
 I took with me only Candolle and one other, M. St. Jean, 
 who, in the event of our meeting the king's party, would 
 gallop back with the tidings to La Solitude. 
 
 We went quietly, so that we might hear the better; and 
 when about half-way down the lane we heard something 
 that made our pulses beat faster. Pulling up and listening, 
 we fancied we could distinguish the tramp of horses, and 
 either the ring of steel or the rattle of wheels. 
 
 As we went on these sounds grew louder, though inter- 
 mittently, owing, doubtless, to the presence of trees and the 
 inequalities of the ground. 
 
 "It is they! It is they!" cried St. Jean, excitedly. 
 " Shall I go back ?" 
 
 " Not until we see them," I answered. " Don't let us 
 make a mistake, whatever we do." 
 
 " But cannot you hear ? They have turned into the lane." 
 
 "It sounds like it. All the same, we had better make 
 
 sure." 
 
 By this time we were close to the hollow way, 
 which I have already described, and Candolle, who was a 
 few yards ahead, had reached one of the many bends in the 
 winding road. 
 
 "Hist!" he whispered, reining in his horse, and raising
 
 BETRAYED 1 93 
 
 his hand as a signal for us to do the same. " I can see 
 them." 
 
 " Why not go on, then ?" 
 
 " Because I am not quite sure ; there are too many. 
 The escort was not to exceed fourteen or fifteen ; here 
 are at least thirty, and it looks as though more were be- 
 hind. Come and see for yourself, but keep in the shade." 
 
 I rode up and peered over CandoUe's shoulder. 
 
 Day was breaking, and in the dim half-light I beheld a 
 string of horsemen, riding silently, three abreast, down the 
 hollow way. How many, there was, as yet, no telling — 
 we could see only one end of the string; but more, I felt 
 sure, than Candolle had said, and for aught we knew there 
 might be a hundred behind them. 
 
 "Who are they?" 
 
 " Can you make them out ?" I asked Candolle, who had 
 the better position for seeing. 
 
 "I am afraid — by Heaven they are — gendarmes! Back 
 to the house, Lebrun ! Back to the house !" 
 
 " Wait a second. Will you stand by me, Candolle ?" 
 
 " To the death." 
 
 "Good! Monsieur St. Jean, gallop back for your life. 
 These are gendarmes — scores of them. We are betrayed. 
 Gallop for your life ! Let fly the disaster signal. Urge the 
 count and our friends to escape at once by the other road. 
 Candolle and I can hold this pass for an hour." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "Not another word. Go, I tell you." 
 
 St. Jean wheeled his horse round, and went off at full 
 gallop. 
 13
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 HOLDING THE PASS 
 
 The gendarmes were riding slowly — perhaps that they 
 might make the less noise; and as three cavaliers occupied 
 the full width of the road, they rode knee to knee. Owing to 
 the sinuosities of the lane, we could make only a rough guess 
 at their numbers ; but as twelve ranks were already in 
 sight, they counted at least thirty-six — possibly twice that 
 number. 
 
 We did not reckon on holding them in check more than 
 twenty minutes or half an hour, for the odds were terribly 
 against us ; yet less so than might appear. The high 
 banks and close-growing trees that rose on either side of 
 the hollow way rendered deploying impossible, and the 
 gendarmes were so huddled together that they could scarce 
 wield their swords ; moreover, the rear ranks would be unable 
 to take part in the fight, except with their carbines and at 
 the risk of hitting their own men. 
 
 Moreover, we had the better position and whatever 
 advantage comes of taking your enemy by surprise, and 
 hoped by a sudden attack and vigorous charge to unhorse 
 the front rank and throw the rest into confusion. 
 
 As yet, though it grows lighter every minute, we have not 
 been seen. Besides, being in deep shade, one behind the 
 other, we are partly hidden by an overhanging bush. 
 
 When the head of the column is about half a furlong from 
 our ambush, we see that the time is come, and, drawing our 
 swords (pistols, by reason of the rain, might have missed fire), 
 we rush down the hill.
 
 HOLDING THE PASS I95 
 
 The foremost Blues draw rein, maldng as though they would 
 halt; but, being pushed on by those behind, and somebody 
 calling out, " Charge ! you imbeciles, they are only two," they 
 spur on their horses to the encounter. 
 
 Yet, irresolutely withal, and too late ; for before they are 
 well under way we are at them, horse to horse, man to man, 
 steel to steel ; wild cries of fear and rage pierce the air, two 
 horses roll over on the slippery ground, a third gallops rid- 
 erless towards the manor-house, and the prostrate chargers 
 struggle to their feet and follow. Of the three gendarmes, 
 two have received their quietus from our swords; the third, 
 in whom I recognize our friend with the red hair, crawls to 
 the side of the road and there lies. 
 
 Then we engage the second rank, or, rather, they engage 
 us, charging resolutely, while those in the rear let fly at us 
 with their pistols and carbines ; but as they are forced to 
 shoot over the heads of those in front, and their pieces, by 
 reason of the dampness of their powder, often miss fire, we 
 take no harm, and, being on higherground and having room 
 to wield our weapons and manceuvre our horses, still keep 
 the upperhand. Candolle, a fine swordsman, fights like a 
 paladin ; and my height, long arm, and big horse give me a 
 vast advantage over the Blues, who, for the most part, are 
 short men on small horses. Goliath carries me splendid- 
 ly, and helps potently in the fight. A gendarme slashes 
 him across the face with his sabre, whereupon the great 
 horse rears, and, lashing out with his fore -feet, knocks 
 the man and his mount clear over, and tramples upon 
 them. 
 
 As fast as one rank goes down, another, thrust forward 
 by those behind, comes on ; and albeit the gendarmes are 
 hampered by wounded comrades and hindered by fallen 
 horses, some of whom, having been lamed by kicks, cause 
 dire confusion by their ineffectual efforts to rise, we are
 
 196 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 forced to back inch by inch, stubbornly fighting yet, so far, 
 though more than once touched, not seriously hurt. 
 
 The irround about us is liUe a shambles : the cries of the 
 wounded and of the unfortunates who fall under their 
 horses' feet, the yells and cries of the men whom the crush 
 and the narrowness of the lane prevent from coming to the 
 front, are maddening. 
 
 Still the foe gains on us ; and knowing that once we are 
 out of the hollow way and beyond the crest of the hill, the 
 advantage of position will be reversed, I tell Candolle that 
 the game is nearly up, and we had better prepare for flight, 
 when we hear a ringing cheer behind us, and our comrades 
 from the manor-house come galloping to our help. 
 
 This is against my orders, but the brave fellows have too 
 keen a sense of honor to leave friends in the lurch. Yet 
 they had done better to obey, for at the very moment of 
 their appearance there befell a disaster which I had feared 
 from the first without being able to prevent. 
 
 A number of gendarmes, dismounting from their horses, 
 had crept furtively through the wood, and now open fire 
 on us from the top of the bank which overlooked the road. 
 Candolle's sword-arm is broken by a bullet ; and as I wheel 
 my horse round and give the order to retreat, I am hit in 
 the shoulder, and Goliath, shot through the head, falls in a 
 heap and pins me to the ground. 
 
 While I am in this predicament a Blue strikes me with 
 his sabre, and horse after horse passes over me. 
 
 "Done for at last," I think; "they cannot all miss me." 
 The thought is answered by a blow on the head, and I 
 know no more.
 
 chapter xxviii 
 
 captured 
 
 Pitch-dark. 
 
 I thought at first that I had passed into another, though 
 not a better, world ; next, that I had wakened from a bad 
 dream ; then, recalling the fight and what followed, that I 
 was still prone in the hollow way, pinned to the ground by 
 the carcase of my dead horse, for I could neither turn 
 my body nor raise my head ; but it rested on something 
 that felt like a pillow, and on groping about I found bed- 
 clothes ; also, that my right arm was bound to my chest and 
 my body swathed in bandages. 
 
 And my legs ! Good heavens ! was it possible that 
 one or both had been amputated while I slept ? No ; I 
 could move my toes. And then I remembered having heard 
 that people who had lost their legs could still feel their 
 toes ; but the doubt thereby engendered was speedily set 
 at rest by shoots of pain in both my legs, and it dawned 
 on my mind that they had been made fast with splints and 
 other surgical appliances, and were benumbed by remain- 
 ing long in one position. 
 
 So far good. Though badly crumpled up and nearly as 
 helpless as though coffined and entombed, I was alive and 
 in full possession of my senses and members, for the which 
 I devoutly thanked God. But where was I } In prison ? 
 It could hardly be otherwise. I had been struck down 
 just as I gave the order to retreat, and the fire from the 
 bank was so hot and the pursuit so vigorous that I feared 
 it had gone ill with my friends. They were, doubtless, all 
 either captured or killed.
 
 iqS for honor and life 
 
 Yes, I must be in prison. But where, and in what prison ? 
 Was it possible that I had been taken to Paris without 
 knowing it, and lodged in the Conciergerie, or the Madelon- 
 ettes, or the Abbaye ? Vain queries ; I could neither see 
 aught nor hear aught. It was either an exceptionally black 
 night, or I was in an uncommonly deep dungeon. 
 
 I waited for the dawn with feverish impatience, and after 
 what seemed a vigil of many hours the darkness became 
 less dense, and presently a faint light shone on the wall 
 and a silvery sunbeam fell on my face. 
 
 How I blessed that sunbeam. It came, as I soon saw, 
 from a window which, though heavily curtained, had not 
 been rendered altogether impervious to the light. As the 
 sun gained power the room grew less darksome, and I saw 
 that, whatever else it might be, it was no dungeon. It was 
 well furnished, and my bed was of the sort usually found in 
 good houses. 
 
 Soon I heard footsteps and voices, and after a while a 
 woman in peasant costume entered, and, drawing aside the 
 curtains, let in a flood of light. Then she looked at me, 
 and asked whether I was right in my head yet. 
 
 " I hope so," quoth I. " Could you oblige me by telling 
 me where I am ?" 
 
 "At the manor-house of La Solitude, to be sure." 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 " It's no use asking me questions ; I cannot answer 
 them." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 " Such is my orders ;" and with that she quitted the room. 
 Her manner left no doubt in my mind that, though not in 
 jail, I was a prisoner. No gentleman's servant could have 
 behaved so rudely. But where were the others (if any 
 of them survived), and what had become of the Comte de 
 Veridet and iiis family?
 
 CAPTURED 199 
 
 In about an hour, as nearl}'' as I could judge, the door 
 opened again, and there entered a little spare gentleman, 
 dressed in sober black, and wearing a white peruke. He 
 had a queer, puckered up, yet not unkindly face, a Roman 
 nose, and bright eyes ; in one hand he carried a cocked hat, 
 in the other a gold-headed cane. 
 
 " The doctor, of course," I thought. 
 
 "Jeannette tells me you are yourself again," he said, 
 coming to my bedside. " How do you feel .'"' 
 
 " Like a mummy who has been restored to life without 
 being unrolled." 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! Not a bad comparison, and perhaps apter than 
 you are aware of. You have been restored to life. If I 
 were not an old army surgeon and a deft hand at human 
 carpentry, though now only a village doctor, your mangled 
 remains would long ere this have been consigned to your 
 mother earth. Let me see ; two ribs and one leg broken, 
 the other leg badly contused ; one bullet in the shoulder, an- 
 other in the thigh ; a fractured collar-bone ; a crack on the 
 skull that produced concussion of the brain ; and a few 
 minor cuts and bruises. You were brought here in a sheet, 
 Monsieur Lebrun. But you had your compensations ; if 
 the Blues had not believed you to be dead, they would not 
 have left you alive. And seeing that you killed and 
 wounded a round dozen of them, no wonder. When I ar- 
 rived on the field of battle and found you buried under 
 that monster of a horse, I, too, believed you were no more ; 
 but on discovering that the vital spark was not quite ex- 
 tinct, I said to myself : " Here is a man of fine physique ; I 
 will try to pull him through. And I have pulled you through, 
 though it will be some time before I can set you on your 
 legs." 
 
 " So I am indebted to your kindness and skill for my life, 
 Monsieur le Docteur — "
 
 200 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " Carouge." 
 
 " Monsieur le Docteur Carouge. I owe you my life, and 
 I thank you witli all my heart." 
 
 " Ves, I think I may say ihat I have saved your life — for 
 the time being. But it is all labor in vain, you know. So 
 soon as you are well enough to travel, you are to be taken 
 to Paris, there to undergo amputation of the head ; and 
 that is an operation which I never knew any patient sur- 
 vive." 
 
 " I am condemned already, then ?" 
 
 " Not at all. Lut you will be tried by the Revolutionary 
 Tribunal, and that admirable institution is not likely to show 
 mercy to a man who has been concerned in a plot to carry 
 off Louis Capet and Madame Veto, and has killed with his 
 own hand six or seven gendarmes. Yes, I am afraid j'ou 
 are desdned to make the acquaintance of La Belle Guillo- 
 tine. But you need not worry about it. I can promise you 
 a long respite. You will not be out of my hands for three 
 months, at the least." 
 
 " And how long have I been here ?" 
 
 " Fifteen days, and unconscious all the time. Happily 
 so. You were as motionless under the knife as if you had 
 been in a cataleptic fit ", and without the perfect physiologic 
 rest which your comatose condition insured, it is just possi- 
 ble that my skill in human carpentry might not have availed 
 to save your life." 
 
 " And the others, and the count ?" 
 
 "Your fellow -conspirators, you mean. Three or four 
 were killed in the hollow way ; the others escaped, to the 
 great enragemcnt of the Blues, who say their cartridges 
 were so damp that they could not shoot properly, their 
 horses so tired that they could not catch the fugitives. The 
 ci-dtrvatit Comte de Veridet also escaped with his family, and 
 there is reason to believe that they have succeeded in cross-
 
 CAPTURED 20I 
 
 ing the frontier. But the government has confiscated his 
 property, and his house is in possession of the police." 
 
 " Do you know the names of the three or four who were 
 killed ?" 
 
 " I have no idea. I take no interest in the dead. Apro- 
 pos of names, yours is Lebrun, I understand ?" 
 
 "Yes; Jacques Lebrun." 
 
 " Commercial traveller for the house of Lafond & Co., 
 clothiers and woollen merchants ?" 
 
 " Precisely. Do you know them ?"' 
 
 " No ; neither do the police. They seem just a little 
 mystified, those gentlemen of the police. One of them was 
 here the other day for the purpose of identifying you. He 
 thought you were the ci-devant Vicomte de Lancy. But when 
 I pointed out that, according to his description, the gentle- 
 man in question is five feet five inches high, and that, ac- 
 cording to my measurement, you are six feet and an inch, 
 he was oblised to admit that he had made a bad shot. He 
 said that the house of Lafond did not exist, and that your 
 passport, which has been sent to Paris, was— slightly irreg- 
 ular, and wanted me, when you were able to converse, to 
 ask you a few questions, and report your answers to him. 
 But I told him that, though a good patriot, I was no spy ; 
 and the gentleman went away very little wiser than he 
 came." 
 
 " I am greatly obliged to you. I did not know you were 
 a patriot." 
 
 " I am, though, with a big P., and I have the honor of 
 being the president of our local Jacobin club." And then, 
 taking a pinch of snuff and smiling ironically, he added : 
 " I love France too much to leave it, and value my head too 
 highly to lose it." 
 
 From which I inferred that Dr. Carouge was a time- 
 server ; but I always speak of a man as I find him, and, de-
 
 202 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 spite his sardonic humor, he had a good heart, and proved 
 a true friend. 
 
 He came to see me every day, and wc had many pleas- 
 ant talks ; and Avhen I was well enough to be shifted to a 
 couch, and the gendarmes, who had so far taken no notice 
 of me, proposed to keep guard in my room night and day, 
 lest I should, perchance, slip through their fingers, the doc- 
 tor saved me from the annoyance by personally answering 
 for my safe custody, while I, on my part, gave my word of 
 honor that so long as I was under his charge I would not 
 attempt to escape. 
 
 This arrangement enabled me to take the air, greatly to 
 the benefit of my health, so soon as I could hobble about 
 on crutches. Nor was this all. He kept me at I^a Solitude 
 for weeks after I had become convalescent by reporting to 
 headquarters thai I was still unfit to travel, and the gen- 
 darmes, who had the run of the count's cellar and were 
 having a fine time, did not say him nay. 
 
 But this was too good to last ; and one day there came a 
 peremptory order from Paris to take me thither the follow- 
 ing week, even if I died on the way. 
 
 The doctor was greatly disturbed. 
 
 " To think," he said, " that I have saved your life and 
 healed your wounds, and the fractured bones of your leg 
 have united so beautifully that it is stronger than the other, 
 yet not a hair's- breadth shorter. To think that I have 
 done all this in order that you may be made shorter by the 
 head ! It is too bad. Word of honor, it is too bad. But 
 don't you want a pair of shoes, or, better still, two pairs .-•" 
 
 The irrelevancy of this question took me rather aback, 
 but as I did need shoes I said " Yes." 
 
 "Good! Rat, our village cobbler, shall come this day 
 and measure you. Have you money.''" 
 
 " Yes, in the lining of my waistcoat."
 
 CAPTURED 203 
 
 " It is bad to have all your eggs in one basket, my dear 
 sir. Paris turnkeys are capable of anything. They would 
 rob a cripple of his crutches. Had you not better divide 
 it? I think I can find a safe hiding-place. Rat is a man 
 of confidence." 
 
 I knew what the doctor meant, and making a slit in my 
 waistcoat lining I lianded him twenty gold pieces and as 
 much in paper. 
 
 The cobbler came and took my measure, and shortly 
 afterwards the doctor brought the shoes. 
 
 "Be good enough to observe. Monsieur Lebrun," said he, 
 " that between the welts and the soles of these shoes with 
 buckles your money is hidden ; in one of those with ties is 
 ingeniously concealed a highly tempered little saw, warrant- 
 ed to cut iron, in the other is an amputating-knife, with 
 which, in case of need, you might cut a throat — a turnkey's, 
 for instance — as the alternative of having your own head 
 cut off." 
 
 " I understand, Monsieur le Docteur. The saw for es- 
 cape, the knife for defence, or, perchance, carving a hole 
 in my prison door." 
 
 The next morning I was put in irons and driven away 
 under charge of two gendarmes, both armed to the teeth. 
 
 At parting Dr. Carouge embraced me with great affection. 
 
 "You must escape," he whispered. " Stick at nothing to 
 keep your head on your shoulders. You will never get an- 
 other. Your destination is the Conciergerie."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 IN PRISON 
 
 The Conciergerie, once a royal palace, now a prison and 
 the Court-house of the Revolutionary Tribunal, was a vast 
 building on the banks of the Seine, of terrible memories 
 and forbidding aspect. 
 
 On the steps leading up to the principal entrance were 
 a number of women, harpies of the guillotine, who, as I 
 alighted from the carriage, shouted with joy, denounced 
 me as an aristocrat, and assailed me with ribald abuse. 
 
 We entered by a wicket, or low door, in the great gate. 
 Three or four yards farther on was a second wicket, guard- 
 ed, like the first, by an armed porter, opening into a vesti- 
 bule, where the governor of the house sat enthroned in a 
 capacious chair. To the left was a room divided by an 
 iron grating into two parts, respectively known as the " office " 
 and the " back office." Here were three young men, bare- 
 headed and divested of collars or coats. Their hands were 
 tied behind their backs, and their hair was cut close to their 
 heads. 
 
 I knew without asking that these unfortunates had been 
 condemned to death, and were waiting for the cart which 
 was to carry them to the place of execution. 
 
 "Your name and quality?" demanded the governor. 
 
 "Jacques Lcbrun, commercial traveller." 
 
 " Age about twenty-five, I suppose ?" 
 
 I did not contradict him. The trials of the last few 
 months had increased my apparent age by years, and it 
 might be an advantage to be thought older than I was.
 
 IN PRISON 205 
 
 After my name had been entered and my person and my 
 valise searched and my fetters removed, I was handed over 
 to two warders (or, as they were generally called, gate-keep- 
 ers), who led me through many iron doors to a vaulted pas- 
 sage, damp and dark and evil-smelling, lined with cells, into 
 one of which I was shown with scant ceremony. 
 
 "That is your billet, No. 17," said the senior warder, 
 helping me forward with a push, and then shut and locked 
 and barred the ponderous door. 
 
 It was a horrible hole, unfit for a wild beast's den, and, 
 as I soon discovered, contained animals less cleanly and 
 more ferocious than the worst of the carnivora. 
 
 The cell was half lighted by a small barred window, 
 blurred with the dust of years ; the walls streamed with 
 moisture, the filth was unspeakable, the air so close and 
 fetid that I nearly fainted. 
 
 On one of three wooden benches, covered with litter 
 dirtier than I had ever seen in a stable, sat two men play- 
 ing dice for coppers and drinking brandy — men of aspect 
 so vile, and clad in garments so ragged and foul, that they 
 looked less human than baboons. 
 
 As the door banged behind me they looked up from their 
 game. " Hello ! a pal !" exclaimed one of them. " What 
 are you in for ? murder or highway robbery ? Come, don't 
 be sulky. You are not the first bloke that's been lagged, 
 by a long way. Have a drink ; it'll warm your innards 
 and lighten your heart." 
 
 I was going to answer with an indignant negative, when, 
 reflecting that, as I was shut up with these rufiians, and 
 could not escape from their companionship, it might be 
 well not to offend them, I took the proffered glass, and let 
 a few drops of the fiery liquid pass my lips. Then they 
 asked me to pay my footing — bienvenue {wtXcome) they called 
 it — whereupon I threw them an assignat, the worth of which
 
 2o6 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 SO far exceeded their expectations that they called me a 
 good prince, and insisted on shaking hands. 
 
 *' Where do you sleep ?" I inquired. 
 
 On this they laughed long and loud. 
 
 " Here, to be sure ; these are our beds " (pointing to the 
 litter-strewn benches); "and here we are night and day, 
 and never go out. This is our world. Have you never 
 been in quod before ? No ! But you don't tell us what 
 you have been up to. Forging ? Still no answer ! Per- 
 haps you are a royalist or counter-revolutionist ?" 
 
 " Yes, something of the sort." 
 
 " ^^'hy the devil have they put you here, then ?" said the 
 fellow, in a tone of contempt. " Thank goodness, we are 
 not royalists, the Angel and I. He is a maker of flash- 
 notes and counterfeit coin. I am a house-breaker. They 
 say, also, that I have committed a few murders ; and the 
 name I go by is Coupegorge (Cutthroat). 
 
 And then Coupegorge, who was "forward in drink," as 
 they say in Lancashire, narrated some of his exploits, the 
 ferocity of which made my blood run cold. As he himself 
 said, with diabolic glee, he had committed enough crimes 
 to render him worthy of being broken on the wheel. 
 
 By nightfall Coupegorge and the Angel (probably thus 
 called because of his likeness to a fiend), having made them- 
 selves blind drunk, rolled themselves in their rotten straw. 
 
 Mine was too filthy to touch, much less to use as bed- 
 clothes, so, pushing it on the lloor with my foot, I stretched 
 myself on the bare boards, and while sitting, while lying, 
 sometimes getting a few winks of uneasy sleep, got through 
 the night. 
 
 In the morning two of the warders on duty brought us 
 water and food, and replenished my fellow-prisoners' brandy- 
 bottle, for which they paid out of the money I had given 
 them for my footing.
 
 IN PRISON 207 
 
 Then things went on as before — Coupegorge and the 
 Angel dicing, quarrelling, smoking, drinking, and dozing ; 
 myself watching them in dull apathy and deepening dis- 
 gust. 
 
 Yet thinking it better to have their good-will, such as it 
 was, than their ill-will, I treated them civilly ; but when they 
 demanded more money, and on my refusal became abusive 
 and violent, I just knocked their heads together — no very 
 difficult feat, the wretches being weak of body and sodden 
 with drink. 
 
 After this they treated me with respect ; but the ruffians 
 were always with me, and their vile language and repulsive 
 ways, the fumes of their bad brandy and worse tobacco, the 
 poisonous air, the swarms of rats and other vermin still 
 more pestilent, the moral and ph3'sical defilement of the 
 place made No. 17 an inferno whose horrors will never 
 be effaced from my memory. I grew so desperate, indeed, 
 that had the ordeal lasted much longer I should either have 
 gone mad, or, by way of ending it, attacked the armed 
 warders who brought our food. 
 
 On the ninth or tenth day of my detention — I forget which, 
 for I had lost count of time — two gendarmes and a warder 
 came into the cell and said I was wanted " for an inter- 
 rogation," and must go with them. 
 
 I would have gone anywhere to escape for a while from 
 my hideous surroundings, and put out my hands willingly 
 for the handcuffs, which, albeit there were so many to guard 
 me, were deemed necessary for my safe-keeping. 
 
 Then I was marched between the two gendarmes, the 
 warder following, through stony passages, till we came to a 
 staircase, up which we went, and I was presently ushered 
 into a room where two gentlemen, one of whom I took to 
 be an examining judge, the other his secretary, sat at a 
 table covered with books and papers.
 
 2o8 FOR HONOR AXD LIFE 
 
 " The prisoner Jacques Lebrun," announced the warder. 
 
 "Very well," said the judge. Then to me, after glancing 
 at his papers : " You are described as a man of violent tem- 
 per and great strength, prisoner; but if you will promise to 
 refrain from violence during the interrogation, we will dis- 
 pense with those handcuffs." 
 
 I promised, with a mental reservation that I would not 
 be taken back to No. 17 without a struggle which should 
 cost somebody his life. 
 
 When the handcuffs had been removed, the gendarmes 
 and the warder were ordered to withdraw and wait within 
 call, and I was provided with a chair. 
 
 The judge opened the interrogation with a little prelim- 
 inary talk on things in general, and was so affable withal, 
 and his questions, when he did begin to ask them, were so 
 craftily put that had I not, remembering De Lancy's warn- 
 ing, been on my guard, I might have made damaging ad- 
 missions unawares. 
 
 Not that my answers were likely to influence my fate — 
 my fight with the gendarmes was quite enough to insure 
 my condemnation. But for the sake of the friends who 
 had sheltered me I meant to preserve my incognito as 
 long as might be ; I was also resolved to give no infor- 
 mation that might compromise the vicomte and his fellow- 
 conspirators. 
 
 When the judge found that fair words and guileful ways 
 were lavished on me in vain, he knitted his brows and al- 
 tered his tactics. 
 
 " You are a commercial traveller. Were you brought up 
 to business ?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," said I. 
 
 " By your father ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Where is your father at present ?"
 
 IN PRISON 209 
 
 " Not being a clairvoyant, iNIonsieur le Juge, I am unable 
 to say." 
 
 "But you could give me his address?" 
 
 " I would rather not, though." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 "You might send for him, and I should be very sorry to 
 see my father here." 
 
 " But you can give me the address of the house — Lafond 
 & Co. — by whom you say you were employed." 
 
 " Paris." 
 
 " That's too vague ; and the police have sought all Paris 
 in vain for these gentlemen." 
 
 " I am very sorry to say. Monsieur le Juge, that I can 
 give you no further information on the subject than is con- 
 tained in my passport." 
 
 "Your passport is a forgery, as you well know." 
 
 "Possibly." 
 
 '' Where did you obtain it ?" 
 
 " That I cannot tell you, nor aught else that might get 
 anj'body into trouble." 
 
 But this was mere skirmishing. The judge cared nothing 
 about my father or the mythical Lafond & Co. His ob- 
 ject, as presently appeared, was to obtain information touch- 
 ing the conspiracy, which, though detected and defeated, 
 had not yet been thoroughly bottomed ; neither had the 
 police been successful in arresting or even identifying all 
 the conspirators. This I suspected at the time and learned 
 later on. The judge was particularly anxious to obtain a 
 full list of them, and was so curious about De Lancy that I 
 felt sure he was still at large. 
 
 But I w^ould not admit that I had ever met the ex- 
 vicomte, which so annoyed my questioner that he rated me 
 roundly, saying that if I did not answer more frankly it 
 would be the worse for me. 
 14
 
 2IO FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " How so ?'' I demanded. " You are sure to send me to 
 the Revolutionary Tribunal, sooner or later, and the Tri- 
 bunal will send me to the headsman. What can be worse 
 than that ?" 
 
 " If you make full confession you may not be sent to the 
 Tribunal, while if you remain obdurate I can have you put 
 in a less comfortable cell." 
 
 " That is impossible," 1 exclaimed, hotly. " There is no 
 less comfortable cell than No. 17 on this side of the Styx. 
 It is a stye at the best, and Coupegorge and the Angel make 
 it a hell. A less comfortable cell, indeed ! I would rather 
 lie in a dog-kennel." 
 
 "And have they actiuilly herded you with common male- 
 factors ? That is against the regulations ; it shall be seen 
 to." 
 
 The judge rang a bell which stood on his table, where- 
 upon entered the warder and the two gendarmes, 
 
 "Why have you put the prisoner Lebrun in No. 17?" 
 asked the judge. 
 
 " Because we were ordered," answered the warder. 
 
 "There must be some mistake. He ought not to have 
 been put there. Take him to the governor and say I said 
 so. Stay ; I will give you a line." 
 
 " You may go, Lebrun," added the judge, when the line 
 was written. " I hope that at our next interview you will 
 be more communicative. It will be worth your while." 
 
 When we were out of the room the warder made as 
 though he would handcuff me again. l>ut as he was taking 
 the irons from his pocket I whipped his sword out of its 
 sheath, and put my back against the wall. 
 
 " Now look here," I said, quietly. " I don't want to give 
 you any trouble, and I promise to go quietly ; but if you 
 try to put those things on again, I shall do somebody a 
 mischief."
 
 IN PRISON 211 
 
 " Well, you are a queer customer," returned the gen- 
 darme. " However, let it be as you say; I agree," 
 
 "Word of honor?" 
 
 " Word of honor." 
 
 "Good! Here is your sword — and something else," 
 slipping a five-franc piece into his hand. 
 
 ^^AHons !" says he ; and we marched in the same order as 
 before to the office, where we found the governor, or, more 
 properly, head turnkey, sitting in his chair of state. 
 
 I had noticed previously, and I saw now, that everybody 
 toadied to this man ; and it struck me that if I took a rather 
 different line it might be to my advantage. 
 
 When the warder had delivered his message and the 
 judge's note, the chief referred to his register, and then, turn- 
 ing to me, said that there had been a slight mistake — I 
 had been put in No. 17 instead of No. 71, and he inquired 
 whether I would lie on straw or a mattress. 
 
 "Well, if the straw is as filthy as that in No. 17 I should 
 prefer a mattress," quoth I. 
 
 "In that case there will be a charge of twenty-five francs 
 a month," says he. 
 
 " Good ! I will pay it. And if I can have a cell to my- 
 self I will pay double." 
 
 " A cell to yourself ! Perhaps you would like a servant 
 to wait on you?" 
 
 " I should. Can I have one ?" 
 
 "A thousand thunders! I believe the fellow fancies he 
 is in a hotel. Put him in 56, Marteau. I suppose he is 
 a quiet prisoner." 
 
 " Very," answered the warder, with a grin ; " only he 
 rather objects to handcuffs." 
 
 " They all do. You will be doubled up with the ci-devant 
 Marquis de Lasalle, prisoner. You can make a servant 
 of him, if you like. It would be something new to have
 
 212 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 an ex-noble waiting on a commercial traveller. You may 
 
 go." 
 
 This time Marteau was my sole escort, and I perceived 
 that the tip had disposed him in my favor. 
 
 " It was rather cool of you to ask the governor for a cell 
 all to yourself," he observed, familiarly, as we went along. 
 " But, as I said before, you are a cool customer; and if you 
 are willing to pay double, I don't see why, and — " hesi- 
 tating. 
 
 " Stand something for the warder who stands my friend. 
 Of course that goes without saying." 
 
 " Well, it can perhaps be managed — after awhile. If we 
 were full it could not be done at any price. I shall also 
 say a good word for you to my colleagues," 
 
 " Thank you," I said, indifferently, as though I cared 
 very little about it ; for to show anxiety were to betray my 
 purpose. I wanted to be alone, because I meant to escape. 
 But unless my fellow-prisoner were either willing to keep 
 my secret, possibly to his own undoing, or sufficiently res- 
 olute and courageous to take part in the adventure, es- 
 cape would be impossible ; and these being conditions on 
 which I could not reckon, it was absolutely necessary, by 
 hook or by crook, to have a cell to myself for at least a 
 night or two.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 WE MEET AGAIN 
 
 Had I been put into cell 56 on my arrival at the Con- 
 ciergerie, I should have called it, as indeed it was, damp, 
 dirty, and pestilential ; but after No. 17 it seemed an abode 
 of luxury. 
 
 There were two beds, with mattresses, sheets, and cover- 
 lets (which, though far from clean, were better than a shake- 
 down of rotten straw), two wooden stools, two barred win- 
 dows, a three-legged stool, a table, and not much else. 
 
 But prisons never are pleasant places, and the revolu- 
 tion treated its victims with scant indulgence — anything 
 was thought good enough for people whose destiny, in nine 
 cases out of ten, was the guillotine. Yet I had been worse 
 off, and, as I have already mentioned, I meant to escape. 
 Moreover, I was no longer to be shut up with Coupegorge 
 and the Angel, and I should be able to stretch my legs in 
 the open air. Prisoners in the infirmary quarter, said Mar- 
 teau, were required to quit their cells every morning at half- 
 past nine, and stay in the yard assigned to them until even- 
 ing ; also the prisoners on this side were all politicians and 
 mostly gentlemen, and their yard was divided from the 
 ladies' yard only by a grating, through which they could 
 talk, see each other, and even flirt and make love. 
 
 At least, so said Marteau ; though I thought it sounded 
 too good to be true. After telling me these things, Mar- 
 teau went for my valise, and I, sitting down on one of the 
 crazy stools, communed with myself, thinking, among other 
 things, how much easier life can be made, even in a prison,
 
 214 
 
 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 by greasing men's palms, wondering whether and where I 
 should see Ange'lique again, and how my father would re- 
 gard my long silence. It troubled me sorely that there was 
 no possibility of letting him know that I still lived and did 
 not despair of regaining my liberty. 
 
 Dear busy old Lancashire seemed farther away than ever 
 now — so far away, indeed, that there were moments when I 
 got confused about my own identity, and realized only with 
 an effort that Fritz Astor, Anatole Boucher, and Jacques 
 Lebrun were one and the same person. 
 
 As night was closing in my musings were disturbed by 
 a great uproar — shouts, oaths, the baying of hounds, the 
 trampling of feet ; then came a jingling of keys, a shoot- 
 ing back of bolts, a rasp of rusty hinges, the heavy door 
 swung back, and a gentleman, two warders, both half- 
 seas-over, and a couple of fierce -looking dogs entered 
 the cell. 
 
 " Here is your companion, Lasalle, name of Lebrun," 
 growled one of the turnkeys. 
 
 " I am glad to make your acquaintance, sir, though I 
 wish it could have been made under happier circumstances. 
 I hope we shall be good friends," says the gentleman, doff- 
 ing his hat. 
 
 " I have no doubt we shall," said I, as we shook hands. 
 
 " Marteau told us about you," muttered one of the turn- 
 keys, significantly. 
 
 " Yes, Marteau has a good heart. Here is something to 
 drink my health," tipping them both liberally. 
 
 " Sacred name ! you also have a good heart. Can we 
 get you anything — a bottle of brandy ?" 
 
 " Thank you, not to-night. I have been breathing brandy 
 for the last ten days." 
 
 " Ah, Coupcgorge and the Angel take kindly to tiicir 
 liquor, don't they ? It is not quality they care for. Rapp
 
 WE MEET AGAIN 215 
 
 and I — my name is Botte — go in for both, don't we Rapp ? 
 Good-night, prisoners." 
 
 " It is quite true," observed Lasalle, when the fellows 
 were gone ; " they do go in for both, and a good deal of it. 
 They are drunk every night. You did wisely to grease their 
 palms. My stock of grease is unfortunately getting low, 
 but I dare say it will last until Monsieur Sanson" — the exe- 
 cutioner — "adds my head to his collection of trophies. 
 Might I, without being deemed guilty of indiscretion, in- 
 quire with what offence you are charged ?" 
 
 Coupegorge had said, " What are you in for ?" However, 
 it came to the same thing. 
 
 " Espousing the king's cause, and killing a few gendarmes 
 — in fair fight, of course," I answered. "And you?" 
 
 " Nothing nearly so heroic, though the penalty is equally 
 death. I emigrated, I returned to see my mother, who was 
 like to die, and here I am." 
 
 " And you think you will be condemned ?" 
 
 " I have not a doubt of it. The rascally sans-culottes are 
 so full of the king's trial that they are rather overlooking 
 their victims in the Conciergerie. But that won't last long. 
 We may be called before the Tribunal to-morrow, and that 
 means making the acquaintance of La Belle Guillotine the 
 same day ; for I cannot deny that I visited my dying 
 mother, nor you, I presume, that you made mince-meat of 
 those Blues. But what does it signify ? Everybody is un- 
 der sentence of death. If we escape the guillotine it will 
 only be to perish of some painful disease, or, worse still, die 
 of old age. And really, you know, unless one is young and 
 rich and can enjoy it in Paris, life is scarcely worth living." 
 
 The Marquis de Lasalle was a fluent talker and a pleas- 
 ant companion, yet I did not think we were likely to be- 
 come close friends. The disparity in our ages was too 
 great, and we had few, if any, ideas in common. Moreover,
 
 2l6 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 I gathered from his conversation that he was one of the 
 recreant nobles, who, after encouraging the revolution until 
 it became dangerous to their order, had left the country and 
 joined its enemies. 
 
 This, not visiting his sick mother, was the offence for 
 which he had to answer. 
 
 He was clearly not the man, even though he had been 
 younger, to participate in the desperate enterprise which I 
 contemplated, and until I knew him better it would be im- 
 prudent to take him into my confidence. 
 
 At eight o'clock on the following morning Botte and 
 Rapp brought our breakfast, for which, as it was better 
 than the ordinary prison fare, we had to pay at a rate that 
 left the caterers a profit of at least cent, per cent. But, as 
 the marquis remarked, when you are in the ante-chamber of 
 death the cost of living becomes a secondary consideration. 
 
 Shortly after nine o'clock we were turned out of our cell 
 and ordered to betake ourselves to the man's yard. It was 
 a narrow, gloomy enclosure, bounded by great walls which 
 shut out the sun ; but we could move about and meet our 
 fellow-prisoners, to most of whom Lasalle introduced me. 
 All seemed to be in high spirits — laughing, joking, and tell- 
 ing piquant stories as unconcernedly as if they had been 
 sipping coffee on the boulevards, or strolling in the gardens 
 of Versailles. 
 
 Yet any one of them might be "called " on the morrow, 
 since though there was just then a lull in the activity of 
 the Revolutionary Tribunal, there was seldom a day on 
 which it did not send at least one of the inmates of the 
 Conciergerie to the guillotine. 
 
 When a prisoner failed to appear in the yard at the ac- 
 customed hour, none of his former associates were so 
 ignorant as not to know that he would never return, or so 
 ill-bred as to mention his name.
 
 WE MEET AGAIN 217 
 
 At noon the ladies appeared in great force, many of 
 them in rich attire, none ill-dressed, and we dined practi- 
 cally in their company, our tables and theirs being placed 
 close to the railing that separated the two yards, and the 
 bars were so wide apart that a thin man might almost have 
 slipped between them. 
 
 Never was I at a merrier party. We toasted each other 
 — those of us who were rich, in wine ; those who were poor, 
 in water — bantered each other, and exchanged more or less 
 witty repartees. The conversation was brilliant — all seemed 
 to have cast care to the winds, as though they had said to 
 themselves : " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." 
 
 After dinner most of the men went up to the railing, and 
 either stood or paced to and fro, talking between whiles to 
 the ladies on the other side. 
 
 Not, as yet, knowing any of these fair prisoners, I was 
 looking curiously on, when I spied among the throng an old 
 lady leaning on the arm of a young girl. 
 
 "Poor old lady! What is her crime, I wonder?" As 
 this thought passed through my mind, she and her com- 
 panion turned their faces towards me. 
 
 Merciful Heaven ! My brain reels, I rush up to the 
 bars, and, in my excitement, exclaim, loud enough to be 
 heard, " Mademoiselle de la Tour, Madame la Marquise !" 
 
 Ange'lique stops and turns pale, looking as startled as 
 though she beheld a ghost. Then, recovering herself, she 
 leads the marchioness to where I stand. 
 
 " You here. Monsieur — " 
 
 " Lebrun, Madame la Marquise," I put in. 
 
 " Of Course, Monsieur Lebrun. I really think my memory 
 begins to fail me. You here ! Yet why should I be sur- 
 prised ? If you want to meet your friends come to the 
 Conciergerie. I have met many already, some of whom I 
 shall never meet again — here."
 
 2lS FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " I pray Heaven, madame, you are not here because of 
 j-our kindness to me. If so, I shall never — " 
 
 " No ; they arrested me because I sent money to my son, 
 who is an emigrant. Holding communication with an emi- 
 grant is a capital crime under the republic. But they will 
 have to be quick, or I shall anticipate the executioner. It 
 does not take much to kill an old woman of eighty-four, 
 and this prison life will soon make an end of me, I think. 
 But for this dear girl, who comes every day and cheers me 
 with her company, and brings me little comforts, I should 
 have been dead long ago. Oh, she has a rare courage 
 to traverse the streets of Paris unattended at a time like 
 this." 
 
 Thank God ! Ange'lique was not a prisoner, then. 
 
 "We heard you had been desperately wounded, and 
 feared you were dead," she said, regarding me sadly with 
 her beautiful eyes. " We little thought, when you set out 
 on that ill-omened journey, that we three should meet again 
 in a prison. Poor marchioness ! Surely they won't have 
 the heart to condemn her. But I don't know — they have 
 guillotined ladies nearly as old. You see how she has 
 aged; it is only occasionally, and on fine days, that she can 
 come into the yard for an airing." 
 
 " And your uncle, what of him ?" I asked. 
 
 " He is in hiding. You know how clever he is. He was 
 warned in time, and slipped through their fingers. Was it 
 you who sent off the pigeon with the danger signal ?" 
 
 " I ordered it to be sent off." 
 
 ** I thought it was your doing. And you were badly 
 wounded ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but I am all right now." 
 
 " Have you been before the Tribunal .''" 
 
 " Not yet. I have been interrogated once, and am to be 
 again."
 
 WE MEET AGAIN 219 
 
 "And what do you think will be the result — I mean, 
 have you any hope — " 
 
 "Of acquittal? Not the least. My offence is too fla- 
 grant. But I have some hope of escaping — with your 
 help." 
 
 " My help ! Oh, if I could— But how ?" 
 
 "As yet I am unable to say. I have not hit upon a 
 feasible plan. But I shall, if they only give me a few days' 
 respite; and as they have not done with their interrogations, 
 I think they will. You come to the Conciergerie every 
 day, don't you ?" 
 
 " Yes, to see Madame la Marquise ; but I come into the 
 yard only when she can come, and that is not often." 
 
 " But you will come here every day, mademoiselle. I 
 know it is a great deal to ask, and not quite the right thing 
 for you to do — or Avould not be in ordinary circumstances. 
 But these are extraordinary times, and this is a case of life 
 and death. And the mere sight of your face does me good 
 — gives me hope and courage. It is like sunshine — " 
 
 " Oh, monsieur !" 
 
 " Yes, it is like sunshine. And though I hope they will 
 give me a few days, there is no telling, as you said just now 
 about the marchioness. Any morning, even to-morrow — " 
 
 Angelique turned pale. 
 
 " Oh yes, I will come," she murmured. 
 
 Here the marchioness, who had been sitting on a bench 
 which, though near, was out of earshot, rose from her seat 
 and tottered to the railing. 
 
 " It is time for us to go ; I am very tired. Au revoir, 
 monsieur," she said, giving me her hand, which I reverently 
 kissed. 
 
 Then Mademoiselle de la Tour gave me her hand. 
 
 " Angelique has been more to me than a daughter. She 
 is the best girl in the world," added Madame la Marquise.
 
 220 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 The thought that I might never see her again flashed 
 through my mind and unsealed my Hps. 
 
 " It is true, and I love her with all my heart !" I ex- 
 claimed, in a passionate whisper, heard only by Angclique. 
 
 Angclique's hand trembled, but it remained for a few 
 delicious seconds in mine. When I looked in her e3'^es I 
 saw that I had won her heart, and though I was in the 
 antechamber of death, never in my life had I felt so happy.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 LIGHT 
 
 As yet, albeit I had suggested that Angelique might help 
 me to escape, I was groping in the dark, and saw no way 
 out. The idea I had first conceived of cutting through the 
 bars of my cell window, letting myself down, and climbing 
 over the outer wall, was obviously impracticable, even 
 though I should make or otherwise obtain a rope. I had 
 discovered that the window overlooked the yard, and that 
 the yard was bounded by walls too lofty to scale without a 
 forty-foot ladder, to say nothing of the sentries who were 
 always on guard below. 
 
 The alternative to scaling the walls, after I got into the 
 yard, was going out by the way I had come in ; but as this 
 plan involved breaking through, or opening without keys, 
 half a dozen iron-bound doors, at any of which I might en- 
 counter a brace of warders, and running the gantlet of the 
 people in the vestibule and the Cerberus at the wicket, it 
 was even more impossible than the other. 
 
 The idea of bribing one of the turnkeys was also con- 
 ceived, only to be dismissed. The man who connived at my 
 escape would do so at the peril of his life, and I doubted 
 whether I had enough money to make it worth a man's 
 while. Moreover, if the turnkey to whom I made the pro- 
 posal were honest, he would denounce me ; while if he were 
 dishonest, he might take my money and obtain credit and 
 promotion by betraying me. 
 
 Too risky altogether, even had I the wherewithal. 
 
 Though I thought and thought till my head went round.
 
 222 FOR HONOR AND LIFE • 
 
 and cudgelled my brains in the watches of the night, I 
 found no solution of the difhculty, and rose in the morning 
 gloomy, despondent, and almost despairing. 
 
 Even the thought that I had won Angclique's heart failed 
 to revive my drooping spirits, since if I were guillotined she 
 might marry somebody else, and the possibility did not 
 jDlease me. 
 
 To make matters worse, Angelique did not keep her 
 tryst. After dinner I was hanging about the barrier, watch- 
 ing for her, when a young woman with a pale face and 
 black eyes beckoned to me — a call which I promptly an- 
 swered. 
 
 "You are Monsieur Lebrun ?'' she asked. 
 
 "That is my name, madame. What can I have the pleas- 
 ure of doing for you ?'' 
 
 " You are expecting Mademoiselle de la Tour." 
 
 " Yes, I am hoping to see her." 
 
 " And I have the advantage of knowing her. She was 
 here this morning — I mean in our room, Madame de Malar- 
 tie's and mine — but only for a few minutes, and desired me 
 to tell you that, having some important business to attend 
 to, she could not see you to-day, but hopes to do so to- 
 morrow." 
 
 I thanked the lady for her information, and then, sick 
 with disappointment, turned away and joined a group of 
 prisoners who, being unacquainted over the border, were 
 whiling away the time in conversation, which, judging by 
 the laughter it evoked, seemed' to be amusing. To hear 
 them and look at them you w^ould have thought they had 
 not a care in the world. 
 
 The talk was about mesmerism, which a little time before 
 had been greatly in vogue. Opinions were divided, some 
 believed in it, some did not, the unbelievers being apparent- 
 ly in the majority. After the discussion had gone on for a
 
 LIGHT 
 
 223 
 
 while, one of the sceptics, who seemed to be somewhat of a 
 wag, said that he knew of but one case of mesmerism in 
 which there was neither deception nor illusion, and the op- 
 erator's will prevailed over that of his victim. The case 
 occurred in Italy, and he could vouch for its accuracy. 
 
 One day at high noon a banker, living in a provincial 
 town, was called to his door by a stranger, who said he had 
 an important and strictly private communication to make. 
 The banker, scenting business, responded to the sum- 
 mons, whereupon the stranger, fixing him with his eye and 
 slightly opening his cloak, bade him put on his hat and step 
 outside. 
 
 The banker obeyed, the stranger took his arm, and the two 
 walked through the town, the banker, at his companion's 
 bidding, greeting all and sundry whom they met. 
 
 They proceeded for several miles arm in arm, and almost 
 cheek by jowl, until they came to a wood, where they found 
 several gentlemen whose many weapons and devil-may-care 
 air suggested grave doubts as to the honesty of their call- 
 ing. Nevertheless, they greeted the banker courteously and 
 his conductor with profound respect. After this personage 
 had refreshed himself with a deep draught of wine, he called 
 for pen, ink, and paper, and requested the banker to sit down 
 and write an order on his bank for the payment of ten 
 thousand lira to the bearer. 
 
 The mesmerist then handed the paper to one of the 
 gentlemen in question, and bade him go with all speed to 
 the town, cash the order, and bring back the money. 
 
 " When it comes," he said, turning to the banker, and 
 again fixing him with his eye, " you may go. Meanwhile, 
 let us amuse ourselves with a game of cards." 
 
 The play went on, to the unfortunate banker's great dis- 
 advantage, until the messenger returned with the ten thou- 
 sand lira.
 
 224 f^I^ HON'OR AND LIFE 
 
 When the bandit had counted the cash and found it 
 right, he courteously dismissed his reluctant guest, and the 
 latter returned to his home, a sadder and a wiser man. 
 
 The listeners laughed heartily, and said it was a capital 
 story — all except one gentleman, who looked very serious 
 and wanted to know how it was done. 
 
 " That," said the narrator, " I shall leave you to guess." 
 
 Whereupon more laughter, for everybody else had divined 
 the secret of the mesmerist's power. I thought the tale of 
 the banker and the bandit the best I had ever heard. It 
 was the light I had been seeking — the light which should 
 show me out of the Conciergerie, since, given certain con- 
 ditions not impossible of attainment, I felt sure that as the 
 bandit had mesmerized the banker with his dagger, so I 
 could mesmerize a warder with my amputating knife, and 
 make him my guide to liberty. 
 
 During the rest of the day and far into the night I was 
 thinking out my scheme, nor did I sleep until it was com- 
 plete in every detail. I rose in the morning full of hope and 
 courage, and anxiouly awaited Ang lique's coming, for I 
 wanted to tell her the good news, and her co-operation was 
 essential to the success of my scheme. 
 
 Late in the afternoon she appeared at the railing, alone. 
 
 " The marchioness is very ill to-day or I should have come 
 sooner," she said, as we shook hands. 
 
 " AVhy did you not keep your tryst yesterday ?" I asked, 
 reproachfully. 
 
 " For your sake, monsieur — " 
 
 " Fritz, not monsieur — if you love me, Angclique." 
 
 " It was for your sake, Fritz," she said, lowering her eyes, 
 but leaving her hand in mine, "that I did not come yes- 
 terday. I went to see Uncle Claude, for he has a wise 
 head, except where the king is concerned, and though in 
 hiding, has still some influence in high quarters. He was
 
 LIGHT 225 
 
 much distressed when he heard of your great peril, and 
 will do whatever he can. But unless you can escape, he 
 fears — " 
 
 " The worst. So do I. Nay, I am sure of it. But I have 
 thought of a plan, Angelique — a plan of promise ; and if you 
 will give me your help — " 
 
 " If I will ! Oh, Fritz," raising her eyes lovingly and 
 pathetically to mine, " only tell me, and you shall see." 
 
 " You must first know, my dear Angelique, that the suc- 
 cess of my plan is contingent on certain conditions, one 
 being a full week's further respite — " 
 
 " That's arranged already. My uncle gave me a letter to 
 Monsieur Dufour, which frightened him dreadfully — " 
 
 "To Dufour?" 
 
 " Yes. I am living at his house. He and his father 
 were under obligations to the marchioness — she had been 
 a valued customer of theirs for many years ; and when she 
 was arrested and seals were put on the doors, and I had no- 
 where to go, Madame Dufour invited me to become her 
 guest. Well, the letter had a great effect. Monsieur Dufour 
 said he would endeavor to delay your appearance before the 
 Tribunal as long as possible — as he hoped, for several weeks. 
 More than this he could not do, even though you were his 
 own brother." 
 
 I guessed what De Lancy had written. He had intimated 
 to Dufour that if I were guillotined he would be denounced 
 for having cashed the draft on my father, which seemed a 
 base return for the money-changer's kindness ; but necessity 
 has no law, and I knew that the threat would never be exe- 
 cuted, even though I should be. 
 
 " You were to be interrogated again to-morrow," added 
 Angelique ; " but Monsieur Dufour has seen Citizen Lemaire, 
 the judge who has your case in hand, and he will not send 
 for you again for five or six days." 
 15
 
 226 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " So far good, very good, my darling. Didn't I say you 
 could help me ?" 
 
 " Oh, but this is not enough. It merely puts off the fatal 
 day. What else can I do, and what are the other conditions 
 you spoke of ?" 
 
 " One is having a cell to myself for a few nights ; that, 
 I think, can be managed by a little judicious bribery. 
 Another is the possession of three or four yards of cord, 
 about the thickness of your little finger, and a phial of 
 laudanum, which you can bring to-morrow or the next 
 day." 
 
 " Laudanum !" 
 
 " Don't be alarmed. I neither contemplate suicide nor 
 murder. Then I must have some place to go to when I get 
 out. Do you think I could join your uncle ?" 
 
 " I think you had better not. He may have to change 
 his quarters any moment. I will speak to Madame Du- 
 four. You once rendered her a service which she is 
 anxious to repay, and she takes great interest in you. 
 IJetween us we will devise something. Trust to a woman's 
 wit." 
 
 '* With all my heart ; especially your wit, my Ange- 
 lique." 
 
 And then we had some further talk which need not be 
 repeated here. We talked at our ease, for my fellow- 
 captives were far too courteous and discreet to interfere 
 with, or even seem to observe, a lady and gentleman en 
 tete-a-tete, and when the time for parting arrived, I profited 
 by the darkness of the yard and the deepening twilight to 
 bid the dear girl a tender farewell. 
 
 1 hoped to see her again on the morrow ; but in her stead 
 came Mme. Dufour, to my great discontent ; yet, when the 
 lady explained the reason of Angclique's absence, I found 
 that 1 had no cause for complaint, and was forced to admit
 
 LIGHT 227 
 
 that I had not thought of everything, and that woman's wit 
 was better than mine. 
 
 " As you doubtless know," said Mme. Dufour, " there are 
 here, as in every prison in Paris, spies in the employ of 
 the police, or traitors who, in order to ingratiate themselves 
 with the authorities, betray their fellow-prisoners, and re- 
 port whatever they may deem strange or suspicious. Now, 
 if Mademoiselle de la Tour pays you a visit every day, and 
 you should, as I hope you will, escape, they might suspect 
 her of connivance. That would compromise us all, for she 
 is living with us, and is admitted to the Conciergerie as a 
 favor to my husband. Moreover, you will have to come to 
 our house, which is another reason why we must do nothing 
 to excite suspicion." 
 
 "You are quite right, madame, and I am vastly obliged 
 to you." 
 
 " Don't mention it, pray. I owe you a debt, remember, 
 and I would do much more for our dear Angelique " (smiling) ; 
 " she will see you to-morrow for a few minutes and bring you 
 what you asked for, and then you will perhaps be able to 
 tell her when we may expect you. Meanwhile, you will do 
 well to pay some attention to these other ladies (of course 
 as a blind), even to the extent of flirting with them. I don't 
 think Angelique will mind. And now, monsieur, I think I 
 had better go. A man with the furtive eyes that betray 
 the inouton " (prison spy) " is prowling about. Au revoirr 
 
 When Mme. Dufour was gone I acted straightway on 
 her advice, and talked and joked with one of the fair prison- 
 ers, to whom Lasalle had introduced me, until we were dis- 
 missed to our cells — driven rather, the warders being al- 
 ways rude and often drunk. 
 
 I followed Lasalle up the steps that led to our room. 
 Botte followed me. 
 
 "A word with you, Lebrun," he whispered, as we reached
 
 22$ FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 the first landing. "You said something to Marteau about 
 a cell to yourself. Well, I think you may have exclusive 
 possession of this after to-morrow — if we can come to 
 terms." 
 
 " How ? What—" 
 
 " You will know in the morning." Then, raising his voice, 
 he added, in his usual rough fashion : " Sacred name ! go 
 quickly, will you ? I am in a hurry, if you are not. Now, 
 tlien, in with you, Lasalle." 
 
 The heavy door banged behind us, the keys were turned, 
 the bolts shot home, and ourselves shut up once more. 
 
 Lasalle threw himself on his bed. 
 
 " I am getting tired of this, Lebrun," he said, wearily. " If 
 the sans-culottes don't let me out soon, or make an end of 
 me, I shall make an end of myself. At the best, life is a 
 mistake when you are past forty and have nothing to look 
 forward to but death and poverty, and I don't care how soon 
 I am out of it." 
 
 Being unprepared with a suitable answer, I kept silence. 
 If I had spoken my thoughts I should have said that the 
 Count de Lasalle was not likely to be much longer oppressed 
 with the life which he found so burdensome.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 A MESMERIZED WARDER 
 
 Botte's hinted forecast was not long in coming to pass. 
 
 As Lasalle and myself were at breakfast on the next morn- 
 ing we were startled by the regular tramp of heavy feet and 
 the rattle of accoutrements in the corridors leading to our 
 cell. 
 
 We both stood up, the count cool and self-possessed, my- 
 self in some trepidation, for the thought had crossed my 
 mind that Botte might have played me a malicious trick, or 
 made a mistake as to the man. 
 
 The door opened, and Botte and Rapp appeared at the 
 threshold. Behind them were three gendarmes with fixed 
 bayonets. 
 
 " Which is it ?" asked the count. 
 
 "You, Lasalle," answered Rapp. 
 
 Save for a slight yet almost imperceptible twitching of 
 the upper lip, the count showed no emotion whatever. 
 
 " I am ready," he said, cheerfully. Then to me : 
 
 " Farewell, my dear sir. Our acquaintance, albeit not 
 long, has at least been pleasant, and will dwell in my mem- 
 ory — as long as I live." 
 
 *' Farewell ; I am very sorry." 
 
 More I could not say, being deeply moved, for it is no 
 light thing to see a brave man going to his death ; and though 
 I had not taken Lasalle to my heart, I admired his courage 
 and deplored his fate. 
 
 After shaking hands with me and the two turnkeys, the 
 handcuffs were put on, and the gendarmes led the doomed
 
 230 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 man to the Tribunal, whence, after being tried and convicted, 
 he was carried straightway to Revolution Place and there 
 beheaded. 
 
 " You may as well go into the yard now ; it will save 
 me the trouble of coming again," observed Botte, who had 
 not gone with the others. " You are alone now, and may 
 remain so — for a while — if, as I said, w^e can come to 
 terms." 
 
 " I don't think I care much about being alone," quoth I, 
 with affected indifference. " Lasalle was an agreeable com- 
 panion." 
 
 " But the next might be disagreeable. Besides, we could 
 shove three or four in." 
 
 " Into this den ?" 
 
 " A den, do you call it ^ Wh}', it is one of the best rooms 
 in the prison." 
 
 " How much ?" 
 
 " Twenty francs a day. Half for me, half for Rapp." 
 
 "That won't do at all, Citizen Botte. You w^ant to ruin 
 me. No, thank you. Everything considered, I think I would 
 rather not be alone." 
 
 " Fifteen, then ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Ten." 
 
 " I'll think about it." 
 
 "You won't have the chance. It must be either yes or 
 no, and now. You need not hesitate so much. It may not 
 be for long." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 "We are to have an official visit this morning. A mem- 
 ber of the Committee of Public Safety and a deputy, who is 
 also a municipal, are going to look us up, and if they think 
 the prisoners are getting too thick on the ground — " 
 
 " I understand ; they may make a clearance. Very well ;
 
 A MESMERIZED WARDER 23 1 
 
 I agree — ten francs between you and Rapp. Here's your 
 first day's pay ; and you can get me a bottle of cognac." 
 
 " Good ! May I taste ?" 
 
 " By all means ; first quality, mind." 
 
 " Good again. Allans ! It is time for you to be in the 
 yard." 
 
 Most of my fellow-captives had heard of the approaching 
 visit, to which, by reason of the monotony and inactivity of 
 their lives, they attached, as I thought, undue importance; 
 and Botte, I felt sure, had exaggerated, or more probably 
 lied, to serve his own ends. 
 
 Be that as it might, Dufour having arranged for the post- 
 ponement of my examination, I could look forward to the 
 visit without misgiving. 
 
 So it came to pass that when the visitors arrived I was 
 the only unconcerned individual in the yard, and instead of 
 avoiding them like some of the other prisoners, I kept my 
 ground and refused to budge. 
 
 As the inspectors were accompanied by the governor and 
 surrounded by several minor officials, it was not easy to tell 
 which was which. 
 
 " Whom have we here ?" I heard one of them say in a 
 voice which seemed familiar to me ; and turning towards the 
 speaker, I found myself face to face with Deputy Serin. 
 
 The recognition was mutual. 
 
 " I think we have met before," said he, in his harsh, grat- 
 ing voice. "You are the young man from Alsace, named 
 Boucher, who made an appointment with me at the Hotel de 
 Ville, and did not keep it. A ci-devaJiV (noble) " I suppose ?" 
 
 The governor whispered something in his ear. 
 
 " So you are the soi-disant Lebrun, one of the royalist 
 conspirators who tried to carry off Capet, and resisted the 
 gendarmes at Flins. That is months ago, and you are alive 
 yet !"
 
 232 ' FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " He was so badly wounded that he could not be re- 
 moved, Citizen Deputy, and has been here only three 
 weeks," put in the governor. 
 
 " Three weeks too long. I must see to this. I shall 
 speak to FouquierTinville" — public prosecutor of the Revo- 
 lutionary Tribunal — " about him at once." 
 
 " His interrogation is not yet completed. Citizen Deputy." 
 
 " Interrogation ! What is the good of interrogating a 
 fellow like him ? He is a born liar; he will lie to the judge 
 as he lied to me." 
 
 This was more than flesh and blood could bear. 
 
 " If I were not a prisoner and you were less well guarded 
 I would wring your neck, Citizen Deputy !" I exclaimed, 
 wrathfully and recklessly. 
 
 " Oh, you would wring my neck, would you ? Well, I 
 promise you that by this time to-morrow you will have no 
 neck to wring. I promise, and Serin always keeps his 
 word, even to lying and malignant aristocrats like yourself. 
 Wring my neck, would you ? Let us pass on. Citizen Gov- 
 ernor." 
 
 When the visitors and their suite were gone, my fellow- 
 prisoners crowded round me, some to congratulate, others 
 to condole. 
 
 " It was a gross insult ; you did well to resent it. I fe- 
 licitate you on j'our courage," said one. 
 
 " You will have to go before the Tribunal to-morrow in- 
 stead of next week or next month," said another, " that is 
 all. And I dare say two or three of us will have to bear 
 you company ; there is always an increase of executions 
 after an inspection." 
 
 This by way of consolation ! 
 
 My answers were brief, for I felt by no means proud of 
 my exploit. I had lost my temper and wofully worsened 
 my prospects.
 
 A MESMERIZED WARDER 233 
 
 Only one night between me and death ! I had intended 
 to win the confidence and allay the possible suspicions of 
 the two warders by giving them two carouses in my cell be- 
 fore attempting the enterprise which was to decide my fate. 
 But now I should have to stake everything on a single 
 throw of the dice. 
 
 It was that night or never ; and my plans were fortunately 
 so far matured that if Botte and Rapp took the bait I was 
 going to offer them, and Angelique kept her tryst, the odds, 
 as I reckoned, were still in my favor, albeit less than they 
 had been. 
 
 Angelique did keep her tryst, purposely and prudently 
 coming late, in order that she might pass me the cord and 
 the phial unobserved, which she did very deftly, and I put 
 them away in my pocket. As spies might be watching us, 
 we wasted no time in love-making. I told her at once 
 that something had happened which rendered delay danger- 
 ous ; that I purposed, with God's help, to make my escape 
 that night, and inquired how I should obtain admission at 
 M. Dufour's house. 
 
 " You know where it is ?" 
 
 " In the Rue St. Denis." 
 
 " Yes, but you must go round to the back ; and for your 
 better guidance we shall leave a light behind a red curtain 
 in the attic window, the highest of all. The door will be 
 left unbarred and unlocked. You must open it noiselessly, 
 shut and fasten it ; then creep softly up-stairs to the attic, 
 which you will recognize by the light ; and as the door will 
 be left ajar, you can make no mistake. Go in and stay un- 
 til somebody comes ; but don't enter the house before mid- 
 night. Deputy Serin comes to the Dufours two or three 
 times a week and often stays till past eleven." 
 
 " Deputy Serin ! Oh, I remember him. He called when 
 I was there, and the Dufours hurried me away."
 
 234 FOJ^ HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " He is a wretch. I hate him." 
 
 " Has he dared—" 
 
 " Don't ask me, Fritz." 
 
 I had no need to ask ; Angelique had said enough. I 
 knew the deputy had been paying her odious attentions, and 
 longed more than ever for an opportunity of wringing his 
 neck. 
 
 And then my love and I parted — until the morrow, as we 
 told each other, or forever, as I said to myself; but of the 
 latter possibility I was careful not to speak. 
 
 Everything now depended on the two turnkeys, as, unless 
 I could outwit and cajole them and make them my tools, 
 my scheming was in vain. In one sense Serin's threat 
 might be an advantage ; it would disarm their suspicions 
 and serve as an excuse for the invitation I was about to 
 give them. 
 
 Botte accompanied me to my cell, as usual. 
 
 " You will find the bottle of cognac on your table," said 
 he. " I profited by your permission to taste it." 
 
 " And found it good ?" 
 
 " Rather." 
 
 " Would you like another taste ?" 
 
 "Wouldn't I, just!" 
 
 " You shall hav^e more than a taste ; but not now. You 
 heard what the Citizen Deputy said ?" 
 
 "Yes; you put your foot in it there, Lebrun. And very 
 sorry I am ; it will be money out of our pockets — mine and 
 Rapp's." 
 
 " You think I shall be called to-morrow, then ?" 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 "Well, then, let us make a night of it. It will be my last, 
 and I don't like the idea of being all alone. You and Rapp 
 come here after you have done your work and had your 
 supper. Bring another bottle of brandy and three or four
 
 A MESMERIZED WARDER 235 
 
 bottles of burgundy, some glasses, cards, and dice — just 
 to pass the time and kill care." 
 
 " It is against regulations, Lebrun — against regulations ; 
 and if we got found out we should get the sack. To you 
 it would make no difference. They cannot do worse to a 
 man than make him shorter by a head, and yours is as 
 good as off already. However, as this is your last night 
 on earth, and you have treated us so liberally, and that 
 brandy is so toothsome, we will risk it for this time only. 
 I answer for Rapp. Expect us in about two hours. An 
 revoir^ 
 
 "Good," I said to myself — " very good." And then I 
 set to work. 
 
 The first thing I did was to empty the phial of laudanum 
 into the bottle of brandy— or, rather, what remained of it, 
 Botte having tasted freely. 
 
 Next I donned the shoes that contained the money, and 
 ripped open the soles of the pair that contained the saw 
 and the amputating-knife— broad and bright, and as keen 
 as a razor. I placed it in my breast-pocket, and, taking the 
 saw, began to cut the bars of my window, three of which it 
 would be necessary to remove before a man of my girth 
 could squeeze himself through. As they were deeply rusted, 
 I needed only to nick them. That done, I should have no 
 difficulty in wrenching the bars from their sockets or break- 
 ing them off short. 
 
 All the same, it was a tedious job; and before I had fin- 
 ished it my guests were at the door ; so I must hide my 
 saw and play the host. 
 
 "Hadn't we better blind the window?" says Botte, as he 
 
 and Rapp disburdened themselves of the bottles and glasses. 
 
 " By all means," quoth I ; and with great alacrity sprang 
 
 up and curtained the window with a coat, which effectually 
 
 excluded the light of the warders' lanterns.
 
 236 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " Now we are all right," said Rapp, unbuckling his sword, 
 an example which Botte speedily followed. 
 
 Then the dilapidated table was drawn up in such sort 
 that one of the beds could be used as a seat, the cell being 
 ill provided with sitting accommodations. 
 
 After drinking to each other's health, we began to gamble 
 at large, and I lost heavily in small change, purposely giv- 
 ing much less heed to the game than to the replenishing of 
 my visitors' glasses ; and so soon as they were on the right 
 side of two bottles of burgundy, I proposed a nip of cognac, 
 to which they readily assented, and during the rest of the 
 carouse drank nothing else. Nevertheless (there being two 
 bottles and myself acting as butler), I took good care to 
 give Rapp at least twice as much of the sophisticated 
 stuff as I gave Botte, whose services I should require 
 later on. 
 
 After a while, and sooner than I expected, Rapp fell 
 asleep, dropped from his chair, and rolled on the floor. 
 
 " Let him lie ; he has a head not worth a row of pins," 
 growled Botte. '■'■Alions ; it's your throw." 
 
 We resumed our gamble ; but, in spite of himself. Citizen 
 Botte soon began to nod, and presently joined his friend on 
 the floor, thereby enabling me to complete my preparations 
 at leisure. 
 
 I relieved Rapp of his coat, bound him hand and foot, 
 and gagged him. Botte I merely bound. Next I broke his 
 sword close by the hilt, and restored the broken pieces to 
 the scabbard. 
 
 This done, I finished the nicking of the bars, tore them 
 from their sockets, and made my bedclothes into a rope 
 strong enough to hold a man, and long enough when let 
 down from the window to reach to within five or six feet of 
 the ground. 
 
 I had now only to wait until all was quiet, and Botte so
 
 A MESMERIZED WARDER 237 
 
 far recovered from the effects of the laudanum as to be 
 able to understand plain French and find his way about. 
 
 When I thought the time had come, I tried to waken him; 
 but kicking and pinching producing no result, I poured 
 water on his head and down his neck. 
 
 This roused him. 
 
 " A thousand thunders !" he muttered ; " it is raining — 
 raining like a dog, and I haven't brought my umbrella." 
 
 " Are you quite awake, Botte ?" I asked. 
 
 " Awake .'' Yes, certainly, of course. But where the 
 devil ? And what — what's this 1 I am corded like a trunk. 
 I cannot get up. I — " (trying to rise). "Am I a warder, am 
 I a prisoner, or am I dreaming ?" 
 
 "At this moment you are a warder and my prisoner. Now 
 listen, Botte. Do you understand ?" 
 
 " Give me a nip, and then I shall." 
 
 I lifted him up, set him on a chair, and administered the 
 desired nip. 
 
 " Now I begin to understand," said he ; " but I didn't ex- 
 pect this of you, Lebrun." 
 
 " Never mind what you expected of me ; let me tell 
 you what I expect from you. Rapp lies there, bound and 
 gagged, and, as you see, I have put on his hat, coat, and 
 sword. Now I want you to show me the way out by one 
 of the side doors you know of. If you agree, I shall give 
 you a thousand francs effective, which means three thou- 
 sand in paper. If you refuse, I shall slit your windpipe," 
 exhibiting my mesmerizer, " and go by myself." 
 
 " Slit it, then. What's the odds ? If I do what you 
 ask I shall be sent to the guillotine within twenty -four 
 hours." 
 
 " Not a bit of it. I have drawn three of those teeth in 
 the window and made a rope of the bedclothes. All you 
 have to do is to let me out — and as I shall be taken for a
 
 238 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 warder, nobody will meddle with us— then return hither, drop 
 the rope from the window, waken Rapp, lock the cell door 
 behind you, and go quietly to bed. When the rope is seen 
 dangling outside in the morning it will be supposed that I 
 have escaped that way." 
 
 " How will it be supposed you got over the wall ?" 
 
 " That's no affair of yours. My cell was searched as usual 
 during the day, and you locked me in at the customary hour. 
 Nobody can blame you, and if you and Rapp keep still 
 tongues, you will not even be suspected." 
 
 Still Botte seemed to hesitate. 
 
 "This knife is very keen," I added, letting him feel the 
 edge of it on his windpipe, " and three thousand francs are 
 not to be picked up every day of the year." 
 
 " I see," said he. " If I refuse, I die ; if I agree, I may not 
 be found out, and three thousand in assignats are a thou- 
 sand effective — as much as the republic gives me for a year 
 of honest work. I agree; so just unloose me, if you please. 
 These cursed cords hurt." 
 
 "We shall walk arm in arm," I observed, as 1 undid the 
 cord; "my left in your right. My right hand will be under 
 my coat, holding the knife ; and if you try to break away, give 
 an alarm, or play any trick whatever, you are a dead man. 
 You understand ?" 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 " Good ! Don your hat, also buckle on your sword ; it 
 will look better. And as I have broken the blade off short 
 by the hilt, you cannot hurt yourself with it. So let us 
 away."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 I MAKE AN END OF DEPUTY SERIN 
 
 When we were outside, Botte barred and locked the cell 
 door, while I held the lantern. Then, returning it to him, 
 I took his unoccupied arm, and we set out on our hazard- 
 ous journey. As when I entered the prison with Marteau, 
 we traversed several corridors divided into sections by 
 iron-bound doors, all of which my guide opened with one 
 of his many keys. But, instead of going forward to the 
 main entrance, we turned to the right, descended a long un- 
 derground passage like a cathedral crypt, and went on till 
 we came to a heavy door, which was evidently not often used. 
 
 " Is this the door ?" I asked. 
 
 " This is the door. On the other side you are free," an- 
 swered the warder. 
 
 " If I am not stopped. You haven't told me the pass- 
 word for the night." 
 
 " That is not in the bargain, and I'll be shot — " 
 
 " No you won't, you'll be guillotined. Suppose I am 
 arrested by a sentry and tell by whose connivance — " 
 
 " Sacred name ! you are right. I never thought of that. 
 The word is ' Marat.' " 
 
 " Good. Now open, Sesame," quoth I. 
 
 The hinges were so stiff, the door so heavy, that even after 
 it was unlocked and unbolted, it was all we could do to pull 
 it open. 
 
 " The coast seems clear," says Botte, peering forth. " I 
 should be sorry for you to be caught ; but if you are, you 
 won't blab ?"
 
 240 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 " Not though they tear me in pieces. Here is my hand 
 on it, and here your reward," giving him the stipulated 
 recompense. 
 
 " A thousand thanks. An revoir, Lebrun." 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! I want to see neither you nor this 
 hideous prison again. Good-bye forever." 
 
 I looked up at the stars, took a deep breath, and stepped 
 briskly out, as became a warder taking his evening walk. 
 I had not gone far before I spied a sentry treading his 
 beat. 
 
 " Who goes there ?" he cried, coming to a halt. 
 
 " Rapp, a warder of the Palace " (the name by which the 
 Conciergerie was best known). 
 
 " Advance, warder, and give the countersign." 
 
 " Marat." 
 
 "Good ! You can pass on." 
 
 And I passed on gladly, crossing the river hj the Pont 
 au Change, which was in a direct line with the Rue St. 
 Denis. But I took at once to the back streets, at that time 
 almost deserted, where I knew there were no police-stations, 
 and I should run no risk of encountering a patrol. 
 
 Knowing my Paris well, and having a good eye for locali- 
 ties, I had no trouble in finding M. Dufour's house. A light 
 was burning in the attic window ; but bearing in mind Ange- 
 lique's warning, and as the clocks had only just gone eleven, 
 I thought I had better keep away for a while, so rambled on 
 northward as far as the King's Mews, and then retraced my 
 steps by another road. 
 
 The clock of St. Sauveur was striking the last quarter 
 before twelve, and I was within a few minutes' walk of 
 my destination, when I chanced to meet a man with a 
 lantern, the light of which, to my annoyance, fell full on 
 my face. 
 
 I stepped aside, and was about to pass on when he
 
 I MAKE AN END OF DEPUTY SERIN 24I 
 
 uttered an exclamation that made me jump half-way across 
 the street. 
 
 " A thousand thunders ! Lebrun ! You have escaped ! 
 Help ! To me the police ! To me !" cried Serin, for he 
 it was. 
 
 Before the words were well out of his mouth, I had 
 seized him by the throat and dashed the lantern from his 
 hand. 
 
 " Silence, you scoundrel !" I said, in a fierce whisper. 
 " Another word and I will bury this knife in your heart. 
 Yesterday you insulted me, and, when I resented the out- 
 rage, threatened me with the guillotine. You are a mur- 
 derer both in thought and deed, and deserve to die the 
 death of a dog. But I will treat you better than you were 
 going to treat me. I will give you a chance for your life. 
 You are armed ; draw and defend yourself, and we will fight 
 our quarrel out, though, 'pon ray soul, I do you too much 
 honor." 
 
 Serin answered promptly to my challenge, and our blades 
 crossed. He knew something of fence, and, to do him justice, 
 showed no want of pluck ; but I soon found that I was the 
 better swordsman, and my length of arm gave me a decided 
 advantage over him. As all was quiet, and the clash of our 
 weapons might be heard by some passing gendarme in the 
 next street, I pressed my adversary hard from the outset ; 
 yet it is ill fighting in the dark, and once he touched me ; 
 but the next moment I engaged his blade in carte, and, car- 
 rying my point behind his wrist and under his elbow, ran 
 him through from side to side. 
 
 Serin fell without a groan, stark dead, and I felt that I 
 had deserved v/ell of France in ridding her of so pestilent 
 a ruffian — 1 would gladly have served every other Terrorist 
 in the same way. Nevertheless, it was not a deed to be 
 proclaimed on the house-tops, and as a sword might be an 
 i6
 
 242 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 embarrassing possession when the deputy's death became 
 known, and I was solicitous not to get my friends into trou- 
 ble, I made straight for the nearest quay, rolled the weapon 
 in Rapp's coat, and dropped both into the Seine, then 
 returned to the Rue St. Denis, and, after reconnoitring the 
 goldsmith's house, entered by the back door, as Angelique 
 had directed. 
 
 So soon as I was inside I doffed my shoes, bolted the 
 door, and crept softly up-stairs to the attic-chamber, where 
 the light was still burning. 
 
 It was a cosey little room with a camp-bed, on which I lay 
 down without undressing, and, being thoroughly tired, fell 
 asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow, and did not 
 open my eyes till long after sunrise, when I was wakened 
 by a light tapping at my chamber door. 
 
 " Yes," said I. 
 
 " It is I, Madame Dufour. Are you dressed ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I did not undress." 
 
 " I may come in, then ?" 
 
 " Certainly. I shall be delighted." 
 
 Whereupon the lady entered. 
 
 "I am so glad," she said, taking both my hands — "so 
 glad. We were in an agony of suspense last night, Ange- 
 lique and I, and until she came to my room, about one 
 o'clock, and told me that she had heard footsteps on the 
 stairs, and that the back door was bolted — which meant, of 
 course, that you had come in — I could not sleep a wink. 
 You must tell us all about it when Angelique comes. I 
 will call her in a minute. She sent me to see if you were 
 awake ; but, meanwhile, I have something to tell you — 
 something very grave and terrible. Serin has been assas- 
 sinated. His body was found in the Rue de Renard at 
 three o'clock, but it is almost certain that he was killed not 
 more than ten minutes after Jhe left our house, which was
 
 I MAKE AN END OF DEPUTY SERIN 243 
 
 between eleven and twelve. The police were here making 
 inquiries an hour ago." 
 
 " Have they arrested the assassin ?" 
 
 " They have not the least idea where to look for him. 
 They think he is some personal or political enemy, who, 
 knowing Serin was in the habit of visiting our house, lay in 
 wait for him. And I should not wonder. He was himself 
 an implacable enemy and a Terrorist, and, between ourselves, 
 fully deserved what has befallen him. . , . But I must call 
 Mademoiselle de la Tour ; she is dying to see you and hear 
 the account of your escape. So am I." 
 
 And then my hostess left the room and in a few minutes 
 returned with Angelique. The dear girl looked pale and 
 worn, and when (disregarding French etiquette in such mat- 
 ters) I put my arms round her, all she could say was : " Oh, 
 Fritz, thank Heaven !" and then, laying her head on my 
 shoulder, fell a-weeping. But quickly regaining her com- 
 posure, she bade me tell her and Mme. Dufour all that 
 had happened me since last night, which I did, with the 
 exception that I made no mention of Serin or of Rapp's 
 sword and coat. 
 
 So soon as I had finished and answered a few questions 
 in elucidation of my tale, Mme. Dufour was good enough to 
 say she would fetch me some breakfast, and with that left 
 the room. 
 
 "Has Madame Dufour told you about Serin's mur- 
 der ?" asked Angelique, when the lady in question was 
 gone. 
 
 " Yes, but are you sure that it was a murder ?" 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! Can you ... is it possible you know some- 
 thing about it ? ... I am sure you do. I can read it in your 
 face. You met him ; you saw his body !" she cried, ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 "I can have no secrets from you, dear," said I, taking
 
 244 FO^ HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 her hand. " It was done in fair fight. I will tell you all, 
 and then you can judge whether I acted rightly." 
 
 \\'hich I did, from the encounter in the prison yard to the 
 duel in the street. 
 
 " It is a dreadful thing to take a man's life," she said, 
 when I had done ; " but if you had not taken Serin's he 
 would have taken yours, and he was a bad man. You 
 could not have acted otherwise, and I think you acted 
 rightly." 
 
 From that time forth there was no further mention of 
 Serin between my love and me. 
 
 Presently came Mme. Dufour with my breakfast, looking 
 very serious. 
 
 " What is wrong ? Have you heard bad news ?" inquired 
 Angt'lique, anxiously. 
 
 " Only that the town is ringing with the assassination of 
 Serin and the escape of a certain Lebrun, a/ias Boucher, 
 from the Palace. You are out of prison, IMonsieur Astor, 
 but you are not out of danger, neither is our dear Angelique, 
 here." 
 
 " Angelique in danger ? How ? why ?" I exclaimed, in 
 dismay. 
 
 " She comes of a noble family, her father was bitterly 
 opposed to the revolution, she is the particular friend of 
 Madame de Malartie and niece to Monsieur de Lancy — 
 more than enough to make her ' suspect ;' and now that 
 Serin is dead — " 
 
 "Good heavens ! what has Serin to do with it ?" 
 
 " Well, you see. Serin admired Mademoiselle de la Tour — 
 admired her very much. His visits here were of late very 
 frequent. It was easy to divine with what object, and I 
 had to entreat Angelique, as she valued her life, not to treat 
 him with the disdain and contempt which he inspired. 
 You understand?"
 
 I MAKE AN END OF DEPUTY SERIN 245 
 
 I understood perfectly, and felt more pleased than ever 
 that I had given the ruffian his quietus. 
 
 " His attentions were odious ; that goes without saying," 
 continued Mme. Dufour; "yet, being unaware of the fact, 
 and as Angelique, in deference to my advice, did not abso- 
 lutely reject him, he took care she was not molested. But 
 now — " 
 
 "I see. His death increases her danger." 
 
 " Unquestionably, for the Jacobins, enraged by the depu- 
 ty's assassination, will be more virulent and suspicious than 
 ever. Unless Angelique departs quickly, she is sure to be 
 arrested, and a domiciliary visit would lead also to your 
 arrest — and ours. You must be out of Paris by this time 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Nothing would please me better. But how ?" 
 
 "We have a plan, Angelique and I. We talked it over 
 last night, and completed it this morning. You are to get 
 yourselves up as tramps." 
 
 " Angelique and I .''" 
 
 " You, Angelique, and the vicomte. It would not be 
 right for you and her to travel by yourselves. Even with 
 her uncle as guardian, I am not quite sure that the proprie- 
 ties would approve. But these are times when the proprie- 
 ties must take care of themselves. Do you play any mu- 
 sical instrument ?" 
 
 " Not even a penny whistle." 
 
 "Nor sing?" 
 
 " Nothing in French." 
 
 " That is unfortunate. But the vicomte is a fair violin- 
 ist, I believe, and Angelique sings. He will fiddle revolu- 
 tionary airs, and she will sing them — whenever it seems 
 necessary ; and as you can neither play nor sing, you must 
 enact the part of a bhnd beggar — Angelique being your 
 sister. Monsieur de Lancy your father."
 
 246 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 "I know I am only a stripling; all the same, I doubt 
 whether De Lancy looks old enough to be my father, and 
 anybody who looks at my eyes will see that I am not 
 blind," quoth I, dubiously. But this objection Mme. Du- 
 four brushed aside as unceremoniously as every other that 
 I urged. She had not been on the stage for nothing ; she 
 could make the vicomte look old enough to be my grandfa- 
 ther ; and by painting my eyelids and dropping belladonna 
 in my eyes, I could be made to look as sightless as a mar- 
 ble statue. 
 
 "Leave that to me," she added. "You have been an 
 employe in a fireworks factory, and lost your sight through 
 an explosion of gunpowder. Your eyes look so bad that 
 you wear a shade over them, Angelique will lead you by 
 the hand, and you shall have a little dog that will lead you 
 by a string. My husband will obtain your passports. It 
 is all a matter of money; the forging of passports has be- 
 come quite a trade. And if you want money for the jour- 
 ney, he will find it for you, on your simple undertaking to 
 remit the amount to a correspondent at Amsterdam, whose 
 name and address he will give you." 
 
 From which I inferred that M. Dufour was very anxious 
 to be rid of us — and small blame to him. 
 
 To my inquiry whether all these preparations could be 
 completed during the day she answered, " Certainly." Her 
 husband would see to the papers, herself to the garments of 
 disguise. 
 
 " England being your destination, you will, of course, 
 make for Dieppe," observed my energetic hostess, " the 
 more especially as you can go part of the way thither by 
 water." 
 
 " E.\actly what I was going to propose," said I. "You 
 have thought of everything, Madame Dufour. I place my- 
 self gratefully and unreservedly in your hands."
 
 I MAKE AN END OF DEPUTY SERIN 247 
 
 . " You must not give me all the credit, though. The plan 
 is as much Angelique's as mine," says she. 
 
 " Not at all. I merely suggested the idea of disguising 
 ourselves as vagrants," put in Angelique, " and monsieur, 
 your husband — " 
 
 " Monsieur, my husband, did nothing whatever — at least, 
 nothing more than offer to provide you with passports and 
 money," interrupted Madame Dufour. " It is our scheme 
 entirely." 
 
 Angelique and I exchanged amused glances. Without 
 passports and money, quitting Paris would be difficult ; get- 
 ting to England impossible. 
 
 " It is our scheme entirely," repeated the lady. " And 
 now we must be off to the Conciergerie. You seem sur- 
 prised ?" 
 
 " And so I am, as much as if you had proposed to put 
 your head into a lion's mouth." 
 
 " But don't you see that it is absolutely necessary ? For 
 several weeks past I have gone to the Palace occasionally, 
 Angelique almost daily, to see Madame la Marquise. If we 
 omit going the day after your escape the omission is sure to be 
 remarked, especially as Madame la Marquise was so ill yes- 
 terday that they did not think she would live through the 
 night, and somebody might recall that the prisoner Lebrun 
 and Mademoiselle de la Tour had been seen talking through 
 the bars. On the other hand, her appearance will be re- 
 garded as proof presumptive of her innocence, and we shall 
 hear no end of gossip about your disappearance." 
 
 " Well, it is perhaps one of those cases in which boldness 
 is the best policy. All the same, I shall be on pins till you 
 return." 
 
 " You will have to be on pins a long time, then ; for we 
 have much to do, and shall not be back until late in the 
 afternoon. But if either of us is arrested, you are pretty
 
 248 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 sure to be apprised of the fact within the hour — by a domi- 
 ciliary visit. So don't worry." 
 
 They went away smiling and full of courage, leaving me, 
 however, in an agony of apprehension, since, despite Mme. 
 Dufour's confidence, I knew they were running a terrible 
 risk, and I could not divest myself of the fear that Ange- 
 lique might be detained — and then !
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 BY LAND AND SEA 
 
 My anxiety, which waxed as the day waned, taught me 
 for the first time in my life that danger impending over 
 those you love is harder to bear than a danger that threat- 
 ens yourself — above all, when you are obliged to remain 
 quiescent, and apprehension is intensified by suspense. 
 
 " If Angelique is taken, what shall I do — what will be- 
 come of us ? It will be impossible to leave her to perish, 
 equally impossible to save her. But one thing I can do : I 
 can die with her ; and I will. If I hear that she has been 
 detained, I will return to the Conciergerie and give my- 
 self up." 
 
 Thus ran my thoughts, and bitterly did T rue having 
 killed Serin ; for if he had lived, Angelique had been safe. 
 But as the leaden hours crept on I grew more tranquil, 
 since in existing circumstances no news was essentially 
 good news. After a while the door opened and in came 
 the man of the house, looking so ill at ease that my fears 
 revived, and without answering his greeting I put the ques- 
 tion that was uppermost in my mind. 
 
 " If any harm had befallen Mademoiselle de la Tour or 
 my wife I should have heard before this," said he, taking 
 from his pockets half a bottle of wine and some bread and 
 cheese, which he had smuggled out of the kitchen. " One 
 cannot be too cautious. If the maids were to get an ink- 
 ling that we had a guest in the attic-chamber it might be 
 fatal. I count myself a good patriot, but patriotism has 
 ceased to be a protection. Let a secret enemy or a treacher-
 
 250 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 ous domestic denounce you and you are doomed. Serin's 
 death makes a great difference to me, monsieur. He may 
 have been a bad man — indeed, between ourselves, I think 
 he was — but he was a good friend to me, and while he lived 
 I had little to fear. Now I am in no better case than any 
 other body. The mere fact of entertaining Mademoiselle 
 de la Tour is enough to make me ' suspect.' And my wife, 
 monsieur, has a tongue — she has a tongue which I fear will 
 get us both into trouble one of these days. But I am not 
 come to talk about my affairs ; I am come to talk about 
 yours. How about money .'"' 
 
 I told Monsieur Dufour how much money I had left. It 
 was very little ; and though our journey to Dieppe would be 
 inexpensive, I should doubtless have to pay heavily for con- 
 veyance from Dieppe to the English coast ; so by way of 
 making ample provision for this eventuality, he agreed to let 
 me have the equivalent of one hundred pounds, and I on 
 my part undertook to remit the amount of the loan to Van 
 Loon, Vandam & Co., his correspondents at Amsterdam. 
 
 This point settled, we discussed the scheme for our flight, 
 of which M. Dufour fully approved. He thought that once 
 out of Paris we should encounter no serious difficulty until 
 we got to Dieppe, where, and I fully agreed with him, we 
 should need to be exceedingly wary. The passport which 
 he had procured for us seemed to be quite in order. It 
 described us as the family Eopp: Jacques (father), itinerant 
 musician, Jean (son), ex -employe in a fireworks factory 
 (eyes seriously injured and sight all but destroyed by an 
 explosion of gunpowder); Marie (daughter), cantatrice. 
 
 "I thought it better to say 'eyes seriously injured' than 
 stone blind," explained M. Dufour, " It might be conven- 
 ient to admit that you can see just a little." 
 
 This relieved me of an anxiety. It would be easier to 
 play the part of a purblind than of a wholly blind man.
 
 BY LAND AND SEA 25 1 
 
 We were still talking when the door opened again and 
 Madame Dufour entered smiling. All had gone well. Even 
 the death of the poor marchioness, considering her great 
 age and recent sufferings, and that, had she lived a few days 
 longer, she must have died on the scaffold, might be regarded 
 as well. They had stayed at the Conciergerie only a short 
 time, yet sufficiently long to learn that the officers of the 
 prison were still quite in the dark as to the method of my 
 escape, and Botte and Rapp at large and unsuspected. 
 
 The old clothes, wigs, and the rest were already in the 
 house, and M. Dufour undertook to transfer them from his 
 own room to the attic-chamber. Angelique had gone to 
 look for her uncle, who kept himself so well hidden that 
 even with the clews she possessed there was some difficulty 
 in finding him. But as he was dying to get out of Paris, 
 there could be no question that he would profit by the pres- 
 ent opportunity. 
 
 Having imparted this information and made a few obser- 
 vations of a general character, Madame Dufour left us to 
 ourselves, only, however, to return an hour later accom- 
 panied by Angelique. 
 
 I was amused to observe how faithfully (notwithstanding 
 the serious business she had on hand) our hostess played 
 the part of chaperon. Only once did she leave us for a 
 few minutes to our own company. Wherefore our greeting 
 was not very lover-like, according to English notions. I took 
 both my sweetheart's hands in mine, pressed one of them 
 respectfully to my lips, and then prayed her to be seated. 
 
 She had found her uncle, albeit not where she expected 
 to find him, for he seldom remained in one hiding-place 
 more than three days. As Madame Dufour had anticipa- 
 ted, he was more than willing to accompany us in our flight 
 and accept the role assigned to him. He would come at 
 eleven o'clock, suitably attired for the occasion, enter at the
 
 252 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 back door, and share my room. Angelique had bought and 
 brought with her a second-hand fiddle, which seemed just 
 the thing for an itinerant musician. 
 
 Our plans prospered. Shortly after eleven De Lancy stole 
 into the attic- chamber carrying his shoes in one hand and 
 a small bundle in the other. 
 
 If I had not expected him I should not have known him. 
 His clothes were as shabby as any beggar's. He wore a 
 white peruke, which fitted him like his own hair, and a pair 
 of horn -rimmed spectacles. He had shaved off his eye- 
 brows, and anxiety and long seclusion had made him so 
 wan and lantern-jawed that I thought he would easily pass 
 for my father without any artistic touches from the prac- 
 tised hand of Mnie. Dufour. 
 
 We did not talk much — there would be plenty of time on 
 the road for telling each other the tale of our late advent- 
 ures — but got us quickly to bed, and at four o'clock we 
 were up and dressed — I, of course, in the garments pro- 
 vided for me by Mme. Dufour, as to which I need only say 
 that they were a good match for De Lancy's. 
 
 Our next proceeding was to descend to a room on the 
 first floor, where we found M. Dufour and the two ladies. 
 Angelique's face, hands, and arms had been dyed nut- 
 brown with walnut- juice, and for all that she wore a com- 
 mon linsey gown, short by the ankles, a shabby jacket and 
 clumsy shoes, and her coiffure was nothing more than a red 
 kerchief twisted round her head. I thought she had never 
 looked more charming; she was surely the prettiest beggar- 
 maid I had ever set eyes on. 
 
 Mme. Dufour took me in hand at once, dropped bella- 
 donna into my eyes, and painted the lids and brows in 
 such sort that Angelique declared she could not bear to 
 look at me, and turned away shuddering. Then the shade 
 was adjusted, and my disguise completed.
 
 BY LAND AND SEA 253 
 
 Being the strongest, I had naturally to carry the family 
 belongings, which were bestowed in a capacious wallet. 
 
 The idea of taking a dog had been dropped, M. Du- 
 four fearing that the creature's barking might waken the 
 servants, and, perchance, disturb the neighbors. 
 
 My money was stitched in my waistcoat lining as before, 
 and for weapons I had a stout stick and the amputating- 
 knife — the latter handy, albeit well concealed. Ange'lique's 
 jewelry, of which she had a good deal, was hidden in her 
 clothing. 
 
 All being ready, we bade the kindly pair to whom we 
 owed so much a grateful farewell, and slipped out of the 
 house while it was yet dark. 
 
 De Lancy, with his fiddle-bag under his arm, went first, 
 Angelique and I following hand in hand. We went on our 
 way in sombre silence ; for the route we took (past the Car- 
 rousel, the Tuileries, and Revolution Place, where still loomed 
 the terrible guillotine) was haunted by memories that par- 
 alyzed our tongues and depressed our spirits, and between 
 us and England lay the ordeal of the barrier and a perilous 
 journey. 
 
 As the sun rose we stepped out more briskly, and by 
 the time we reached the Arc de Triomphe it was full day- 
 light. 
 
 " What can you sing, Angelique ?" asked the vicomte. 
 
 " I learned the words of ' Qa. Ira ' and the ' Marseillaise ' 
 yesterday ; I can also sing ' Malbrook,' and a few other 
 things." 
 
 " Good ! That is enough for the present ; and if you are 
 required to sing any of their infernal republican airs, look 
 as though you were pleased, and put your heart into it. . . . 
 Allons. If we go with a confident air, they may let us pass 
 through without question." 
 
 Which they did, but only to call us back the next minute.
 
 254 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 "You are in a hurr}', I think, "said the officer on duty, 
 gruffly. " Whither are you going ?" 
 
 " On a professional tour," answered De Lancy. 
 
 "Which means a begging expedition, from the look of 
 you. Your passport ?" 
 
 De Lancy produced it. 
 
 " Hum ! the Bopp family — father, son, and daughter. 
 Son nearly blind — or supposed to be." 
 
 And with that he raised my shade (through which I 
 could see dimly), and I fixed my eyes in a stony glare. 
 
 " Poor devil ! Blind enough," he murmured. " Pity, 
 though ; you would make a fine recruit. Could you give us 
 a bit of music. Citizen Bopp — j'ou and your charming daugh- 
 ter?" 
 
 "With pleasure," responded De Lancy, uncasing his fid- 
 dle. " We will give you the ' Qa Ira.' Now I\Iarie !" flour- 
 ishing his bow. 
 
 They gave it so well that the gendarmes were quite de- 
 lighted. 
 
 " It is all right ; you can go on," said the officer, " And 
 you won't need to beg ; only play like that, and you will 
 come back w-ith pockets full of money." 
 
 " A good omen," observed the vicomte, sotto voce, as he 
 put up his fiddle. 
 
 Resuming our journey with lightened hearts, we reached 
 St. Germain towards sundown, and passed the night at a 
 little river-side inn, where, hearing that a boat was to start 
 early next morning for Rouen, we took passage by her, 
 with the intention, however, of landing before we got thith- 
 er ; that city, like Paris, having barriers and prying police- 
 folk whom we had no wish to encounter. 
 
 This design we carried out, disembarking about a league 
 to the eastward of Rouen, and gaining the direct road to 
 Dieppe by a long detour.
 
 BY LAND AND SEA 255 
 
 Mostly walking, occasionally getting a lift on a country 
 cart, and making such stages as Angelique could easily ac- 
 complish, we were nearly a week on the road between Rouen 
 and the coast. Now and then my companions gave a per- 
 formance at the villages through which we passed, and at 
 one place De Lancy and his fiddle were requisitioned for a 
 rustic fete, whereby we lost a whole day. 
 
 During our last stage we fell in with a tramp who gave us 
 a useful wrinkle. Dieppe, he said, was just then a hard 
 place to get into, and a bad place to be in. So many fugi- 
 tives had escaped that way that the police scrutinized pass- 
 ports with great severity, were very rough on wayfarers like 
 ourselves, and, as likely as not, would either turn us back 
 or lock us up. 
 
 But he could show us a by-road by which, at the edge of 
 dark, we might obtain access to the town through the sub- 
 urb of Le Pollet (a quarter inhabited by sailors and fisher- 
 men) without incurring these risks. 
 
 This meant a tip and a bottle of wine, which we gladly 
 gave him. It would have been worth our while to give him 
 a good deal more. In Le Pollet dwelt Blondin, the smug- 
 gler captain, to whom I had been introduced by Von Affry. 
 
 So at dusk we wended thitherward, and were taken by 
 the friendly tramp to a lodging suitable for folk of our con- 
 dition. 
 
 After we had supped, De Lancy and myself set out to look 
 for Blondin, whom we were lucky enough to find at home. 
 He received us gruffly, remembering neither ray name nor 
 face, and not until I reminded him of what had passed at 
 our previous interview did he recognize me as Von Affry's 
 friend and throw aside his reserve. 
 
 He was a brave old salt, had no political opinions, and 
 cared not a button-top for the police ; yet he knew how to 
 drive a bargain. Not for a centime less than twenty-five
 
 256 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 hundred francs effective (;^ioo) could he run us across the 
 Channel, but at that price be would undertake to land us 
 safely in England (wind, weather, revenue-cutters, and war- 
 ships permitting) the next day but one. 
 
 I offered to make the price one hundred and twenty 
 pounds if he would say the next day. 
 
 '• That means setting sail to-night," quoth he, thought- 
 fully. " Well, if you will put up with a rather small and not 
 very well-found boat, I think it may be done," 
 
 " We will put up with anything that will convey us safely 
 across," said I. 
 
 " Done ! Be here at ten o'clock, sharp, and you will 
 find somebody to show you where the Beautiful Star is 
 berthed," said he. 
 
 On this hint w^e hied us back to our inn to inform Ang^- 
 lique how we had fared, and, presently returning, found two 
 sailors at Blondin's door, who, after conveying us to the 
 water-side, led us across half a dozen vessels moored side 
 by side, at so great a pace that, the night being dark and 
 the decks slippery wath recent rain, we could scarce keep 
 up with them. 
 
 " Behold her !" exclaimed one of the fellows at last, to my 
 great satisfaction, for in trying to help Angelique I had 
 tripped over a coil of rope and barked my shins. 
 
 The Beautiful Star was not a big vessel— only about half 
 the size of a canal-boat, as far as I could judge. But little 
 time was given us for inspection, since no sooner were we 
 aboard than Blondin opened a trap-door and bade us go be- 
 low and hide under a spare sail we should find there, add- 
 ing that we might have a visit from the police, or from some 
 of the harbor-master's people before we got outside. 
 
 So down we went and there we hid. Soon, however, the 
 boat began to move, and after a while the trap-door opened 
 again and we were allowed to go on deck.
 
 BY LAND AND SEA 257 
 
 There was a small cabin aft, where sleeping accommoda- 
 tion had been prepared for Angelique. De Lancy and my- 
 self preferred to stay on deck. Save the hold, there was 
 nowhere else for us, and, besides being pitch-dark, it was as 
 evil-smelling as my first cell at the Conciergerie. 
 
 Though the weather was dirty, the wind was fair, and 
 shortly before six o'clock we sighted the white cliffs of dear 
 old England. 
 
 I could have shouted for joy ; and, despite the wetness of 
 my clothes and the sickness of my stomach, should have 
 done so had not De Lancy looked so woe-begone and the 
 sailors so serious. For by this time it was blowing a gale 
 of wind, and the sea was so rough withal, and the old hooker 
 so rotten, that Blondin made no secret of his fear that we 
 might go to the bottom or drive against the cliffs. To pre- 
 vent this catastrophe he let go both his anchors. Whether 
 wisely I am unable to say, not being skilled in seamanship. 
 But the result was unfortunate ; for when we had been rid- 
 ing about an hour, the cables parted, the mast snapped, and 
 we drifted helplessly shoreward, grounding at last on a sand- 
 bank between Newhaven and Brighton, as luck would have 
 it, not more than fourscore yards from the strand, where 
 several people, fishermen and others, were watching us. 
 
 We had no boat, and it is doubtful whether a row-boat 
 could have won through the breakers that raced over the 
 sand-bank and dashed against the smack, which lay on her 
 beam ends exposed to all the fury of the storm. But Blon- 
 din was equal to the occasion ; he knotted a rope to a spar, 
 which, being launched into the sea, was swept ashore and 
 caught by the fishermen. 
 
 The rope was then made fast, and the other end of it be- 
 ing held taut by the people ashore, we were all enabled to 
 land. Angelique would have ventured alone, but I insisted 
 on carrying her, and though we were a good deal buffeted, I 
 17
 
 258 FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 succeeded in placing her on terra firma, save for cold and 
 exhaustion and a thorough drenching, none the worse. 
 
 We received a warm welcome from the unknown friends 
 among whom we found ourselves, and when they learned that 
 we were fugitives, and that one of our number was an Eng- 
 lish officer, late of the Swiss Guard, who but ten days pre- 
 viously had escaped from a French prison, they gave us a 
 hearty cheer and took us to a little inn hard by. 
 
 Angelique and her uncle, who had been very sick, and 
 were both perishing with cold, went straight to bed while 
 their clothes were dried. But I had an imperative duty to 
 perform, and, borrowing from the landlord a suit of clothes 
 which, though a tight fit, served passably well, sat down to 
 write to my father. 
 
 I gave him, first of all, a brief account of my adventures, 
 with promise of a fuller account when we met. Next I 
 mentioned that one of the companions of my flight was a 
 young lady of noble family, who, besides saving my life on 
 the fatal loth of August, had helped me to escape from the 
 Conciergerie, and to whom I was devotedly attached. After 
 asking my father's forgiveness for falling in love without his 
 knowledge or consent, I besought him not to accuse me of 
 recklessness until he heard the whole of my storj^, nor to 
 pass judgment on my choice until he saw Angclique, who, 
 as I took care to observe, was in charge of her uncle, the 
 Vicomte de Lancy. 
 
 Then I informed him that we proposed on the following 
 day to make for London, and should alight at La Belle 
 Sauvage, in Ludgate Hill, where he himself was in the habit 
 of staying when he went to town. But as my wardrobe 
 needed replenishing, and I could not leave Mile, de la 
 Tour until 1 had seen her comfortably lodged, and ascer- 
 tained whether any of my comrades of the regiment had 
 succeeded in reaching England, he must not expect to see
 
 BY LAND AND SEA 
 
 259 
 
 me much under a week. In the meantime I hoped he would 
 let me have a line in reply, saying how it fared with him 
 and my mother, not forgetting the shop and old Wiggin. 
 
 Though I carefully refrained from saying so, I was not 
 without hope that they might invite Angelique to make our 
 house her home. 
 
 On the next morning we went to Brighton, and after ex- 
 changing our beggars' garb for garments more befitting our 
 condition, travelled post to London (I was too happy to be 
 cheese-paring), and put up, as I had proposed, at La Belle 
 Sauvage. 
 
 The following days we spent in ordering clothes, dispos- 
 ing of some of Ange'lique's jewels (which brought her a nice 
 sum), and in making inquiries about missing friends, several 
 of whom we were so fortunate as to find in London. 
 
 As we returned from one of these excursions, some four 
 days after our arrival, a post-chaise, bespattered with mud 
 and drawn by perspiring horses, rattled into the Sauvage 
 yard. When the carriage stopped, who should step out of it 
 but my father ! He was turning round to offer my mother 
 his hand when I ran up and received her in my arms. 
 
 What happened next I can scarce tell. The arms of 
 both seemed to be round me at once. I heard my father 
 say, " Fritz ! Fritz ! Oh, my dear boy !" 
 
 My mother murmured, weeping, " My son who was dead 
 is alive ! Thank God ! thank God !" 
 
 Then, recovering her composure, she spied Angelique, 
 who was looking on in glad surprise. 
 
 " Is that the dear lass that saved your life and stole your 
 heart ?" asked my mother. 
 
 " The same, mother." 
 
 " God bless her bonny face !" says she, and taking my 
 sweetheart in her arms, gave her a hearty Lancashire hug- 
 ging and kissing.
 
 26o FOR HONOR AND LIFE 
 
 But as all this was in public, and the people in the inn 
 yard were staring at us in open-mouthed wonder, I invited 
 my father and mother to accompany Angelique, her uncle, 
 and myself to our sitting-room. There we had a long and 
 pleasant, albeit somewhat lively talk. My father, though 
 naturally and by habit abstemious, ordered champagne, and 
 became quite hilarious. My dear mother was quietly hap- 
 py, sitting between Angelique and myself, holding a hand 
 of each. 
 
 The result was all I could desire. Our betrothal re- 
 ceived parental sanction on the spot, and Angelique ac- 
 cepted an invitation to go with us to Lancashire and make 
 our house her home until she had one of her own. 
 
 My tale is told, for, although I was only at the beginning 
 of my career, and since that time have fought in many cam- 
 paigns, and met with many stirring adventures, it is no 
 part of my present design to narrate any other than those 
 which arose out of my service with the noble regiment of 
 the Swiss Guard, where I learned that honor is more pre- 
 cious than life, and a stainless name better than riches. 
 
 THE END
 
 By W. D. HOWELLS. 
 
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 WILLIAM BLACK'S NOVELS. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITIOX. 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF IIETII. 
 
 A PKl.VCESS OF TIIULK. 
 
 DONALD ROSS OF IIEIMRA. 
 
 GREEX PASTURES AND PICCA- 
 DILLY. 
 
 IX FAR LOCHABER. 
 
 IN SILK ATTIRE. 
 
 JUDTITI SHAKESPEARE. Illus- 
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 KILMENY. 
 
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 TIIKEF FEATHERS. 
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 YOLANDE. Illustrated. 
 
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 The pathos of New England life, its intensities of repressed feeling, its 
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 The simplicity, purity, and quaintness of these stories set them apart in 
 a niche of distinction where they have no rivals. — Literary World, Boston. 
 
 The author has the unusual gift of writing a short story which is com- 
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 N. Y. 
 
 A gallery of striking studies in the humblest quarters of American 
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 BEX-IIUR: A TALE OF THE CHRIST. 
 
 Bj J.EW. Wallace. 16mo, Cloth, $1 50. Garfield 
 EJltioii. Two Yolumes. Twenty Full -page Pho- 
 togravures. Over 1000 Illustrations as Marginal 
 Drawings by Willia:m Martin Johnson. Crown 
 8vo, Printed on Fine Super-calendered Plate-paper, 
 Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, Bound in Silk and 
 Gold, 8T 00. {In a Gladstone Box.) 
 
 Anything so startling, new, and distinctive as the leading feature o{ 
 this romance does not often appear in works of fiction. . . . Some of Mr. 
 Wallace's writing is remarkable for its pathetic eloquence. The scenes 
 described in the New Testament are rewritten with the power and skill of 
 an accomplished master of style. — N. Y Times. 
 
 Its real basis is a description of the life of the Jews and Romans at the 
 beginning of the Christian era, and this is both forcible and brilliant. . . . 
 We are carried through a surprising variety of scenes ; we witness a sea- 
 fight, a chariot-race, the internal economy of a Roman galley, domestic in- 
 teriors at Antioch, at Jerusalem, and among the tribes of the desert; pal- 
 aces, prisons, the haunts of dissipated Roman youth, the houses of pious 
 families of Israel. There is plenty of e.xciling incident ; everything is ani. 
 mated, vivid and glowing. — X. V. Tribune. 
 
 From the opening of the volume to the very close the reader's interest 
 will be kept at the highest pitch, and tiie novel will be pronounced by all 
 one of the greatest novels of the day. — Boston Post. 
 
 "Ben Iliir" is interesting, and its characterization is fine and strong. 
 Meanwhile it evinces careful study of the period in which the scene is laid, 
 and will help those who read it with reasonable attention to realize the 
 nature and conditions of Hebrew life in Jerusalem and Roman life at 
 Antiocli at the time of our Saviour's advent. — Examiner, N. Y. 
 
 The book is one of unquestionable power, and will be read with un- ' 
 wonted interest by many readers who are weary of the conventional novel 
 and romance. — Boston Journal. 
 
 One of the most remarkable and delightful books. It is as real and 
 wnrm as life itself, and as attractive as the grandest and most heroic 
 chapters of hi'".tory. — Indianapolis Journal. 
 
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 THE PRINCE OF INDIA; 
 
 Or, Why Constantinople Fell. By Lew. Wallace, Author of 
 " Ben-Hur," " The Boyhood of Christ," etc. Two Vol- 
 umes. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $2 50; Half Leather, 
 64 00 ; Three-quarter Leather, $5 00 ; Three-quarter Calf, 
 $6 00 ; Three-quarter Crushed Levant, $8 00. (In a Box.) 
 
 General Wallace has achieved the (literary) impossible. He has struck 
 the bnU's-eve twice in succession. After his phenomenal hit with "Ben- 
 Hur " he has given us, in " The Prince of India," another book which no man 
 will say shows the least falling off. ... It is a great book. — i\^ Y. Tribune. 
 
 A great story It has power and lire. We believe that it will be read 
 and re-read. — jV". F. Sun. 
 
 For boldness of conception this romance is unique of its kind. The 
 amount of research shown is immense. The mere mise en scene necessary 
 for the proper presentation of the Byzantine period alone involves a life- 
 long study. . . . There are incidents iniiumeral)le in this romance, and all 
 are worked up with dramatic effect. — N. Y. Times. 
 
 Its human interest is so vivid that it is one of those historical novels laid 
 down reluctantly only with the last page with the feeling that one turns 
 away from men and women with whom for awhile he lived and moved. . . . 
 A masterly and great and absorbing work of fiction. . . . Dignity, a superb 
 conjunction of liisterical and imaginative material, the movement of a 
 strong river of fancy, an unfailing quality of human interest, fill it over- 
 fiowingly. — N. Y. M<iil and Express. 
 
 Politics, romance, religious discussion, war, statesmanship, and love, all 
 have their part as elements of interest, and one may be sure that not Bul- 
 wer himself could have treated a notable epoch in history with greater fidel- 
 ity to established fact or more splendor of constructive imagination. — Bos- 
 Ion Beacon. 
 
 In invention, in the power to make mind-impressions, in thrilling inter- 
 est, " The Prince of India " is not inferior to " Ben-Hur." The visit to the 
 grave of Hiram, King of Tyre, with which the story opens, at once arouses 
 the reader's keenest interest, which culminates in the closing pages of the 
 second volume with the downfall of Constantinople. — Fluhulelphia Inquirer. 
 
 Abounds in scenes that have few rivals outside of the "Arabian Nights." 
 —N. Y. Herald. 
 
 '• The Prince of India " is a succession of Oriental pictures, faithful and 
 ample in detail. It is beyond question an able historical novel, an absorb- 
 ing theological novel, a refined and lofty love story. ... Its qualities are 
 thought -arousing, educating, pictorial, spiritually analytic. — St. Louis 
 Globe-Democrat, 
 
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 R D. BLACKMORE^S NOVELS. 
 
 His descriptions are wonderfully vivid and natural. His pages are 
 brightened everywhere wiih great humor ; the quaint, dry turns of thought 
 remind you occasionally of Fielding. — London Times. 
 
 Mr. Blackmore always writes like a scholar and a gentleman — A(he- 
 meiim, London. 
 
 His tales, all of them, are pre-eminently meritorious. They are re- 
 markable for their careful elaboration, the conscientious finish of their 
 workmanship, their affluence of striking dramatic and narrative incident, 
 tiieir close observation and general interpretation of nature, their profusion 
 of picturesque description, and their quiet and sustained humor. Besides, 
 they are pervaded by a bright and ela.stic atmosphere which diffuses a 
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 degree transcend the limits of delicacy or good taste. While radiating 
 warmth and brightness, they are as pure as the new-fallen snow. . . . Their 
 literary execution is admirable, and their dramatic power is as exceptional 
 as their moral purity. — Christian Intelligencer, N. Y. 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
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