THE 
 
 NAME OF 
 
 LI B ERTY 
 
 m 
 
 JOHNSON

 
 ) 
 
 I
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 OF CALIF. LIBRABY, LOS ANGELES
 
 BARABANT SURPRISES NICOLE
 
 IN THE NAME 
 OF LIBERTY 
 
 A STORY OF THE TERROR 
 
 BY 
 
 OWEN JOHNSON 
 
 Author of " Arrows of the Almighty " 
 
 O Liberty! Liberty! how many crimes are committed 
 in thy name ! Madame Roland 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1905
 
 Copyright, 1905, by 
 THE CENTURY Co. 
 
 Published January , 
 
 THE DEVINNE PRESS
 
 TO 
 
 MY FATHER 
 
 213GG42
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 i IN SEARCH OF THE REVOLUTION ... 3 
 
 ii A RESCUE FROM ARISTOCRATS . . . . 14 
 
 in CITOYENNE NICOLE 30 
 
 iv BREWINGS OF THE STORM 54 
 
 v THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES ... 74 
 
 vi THE HEART OF A WOMAN 92 
 
 vii THE FEAR OF HAPPINESS 104 
 
 vin THE MOTHER OF LOUISON 116 
 
 ix THE TURN OF JAVOGUES 127 
 
 x A TRIUMPH OF INSTINCT 140 
 
 xi THE MAN WITH THE LANTERN . . . 155 
 
 XH THE MASSACRE OF THE PRISONS . . .165 
 
 XIII DOSSONVILLE IN PERIL 176 
 
 xiv GOURSAC AS ACCUSER 188 
 
 xv LOVE, LIFE, AND DEATH 200 
 
 PART II 
 
 (One Year Later) 
 
 i FAMINE 211 
 
 ii DOSSONVILLE EARNS A Kiss 224 
 
 vii
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 in WAITING FOR BREAD 235 
 
 iv SIMON LAJOIE 250 
 
 v CRAMOISIN PLOTS AGAINST NICOLE . . 266 
 
 vi BARABANT HESITATES 277 
 
 vii THE MADNESS OF JEALOUSY .... 290 
 
 vin LA FTE DE LA RAISON 301 
 
 ix As DID CHARLOTTE CORDAY . . . .314 
 
 x UNRELENTING IN DEATH 323 
 
 xi NICOLE FORGOES THE SACRIFICE . . .332 
 
 xn THE FATHER OF LOUISON . . . l . . 346 
 
 xni DAUGHTER OF THE GUILLOTINE . . .357 
 
 xiv THE LAST ON THE LIST 369 
 
 xv THE FALL OF THE TERROR . . . .386 
 
 EPILOGUE 402 
 
 vin
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY
 
 IN THE NAME OF 
 LIBERTY 
 
 IN SEARCH OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 IN the month of August of the year 1792 
 the Rue Maugout was a distorted cleft in 
 the gray mass of the Faubourg St. Antoine, 
 apart from the ceaseless cry of life of the thor- 
 oughfare, but animated by a sprinkling of 
 shops and taverns. No. 38, like its neighbors, 
 was a twisted, settled mass of stone and timber 
 that had somehow held together from the time 
 of Henry II. The entrance was low, pinched, 
 and dank. On one side a twisted staircase zig- 
 zagged into the gloom. On the other a squat 
 door with a grating in the center, like a blind 
 eye, led into the cellar which la Mere Corniche, 
 the concierge, let out at two sous a night to trav- 
 
 3
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 elers in search of an economical resting-place. 
 Beyond this rat-hole a murky glass served as a 
 peep-hole, whence her flattened nose and little 
 eyes could dimly be distinguished at all hours of 
 the day. This tenebrous entrance, after plung- 
 ing onward some forty feet, fell against a wall of 
 gray light, where the visitor, making an abrupt 
 angle, passed into the purer air of a narrow court. 
 Opposite, the passage took up its interrupted 
 way to a farther court, more spacious, where a 
 dirt-colored maple offered a ragged shelter and a 
 few parched vines gripped the yellow walls. 
 The tiled roofs were shrunk, the ridges warped, 
 the walls cracking and bulging about the dis- 
 torted windows. Along the roofs the dust and 
 dirt had gradually accumulated and given birth 
 to a few blades of gray-green plants. Nature 
 had slipped in and assimilated the work of man, 
 until the building, yielding to the weight of 
 time and the elements, appeared as a hollow 
 sunk in fantastic cliffs, where, from narrow, mis- 
 shapen slits, the dwellers peered forth. About 
 the maple swarmed a troop of children, grimy, 
 bare, and voluble. In the branches and in the 
 ivy a horde of sparrows shrilled and fought, 
 keeping warily out of reach of the lank cats 
 that slunk in ambush. 
 
 In front of No. 38, each morning, prompt as 
 4
 
 IN SEARCH OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 the sun, which she often anticipated, la Mere 
 Corniche appeared with her broom. She was 
 one of those strange old women in whom the 
 appearances of youth and age are incongruously 
 blended. Seen from behind, her short, erect 
 stature (she was an equal four feet), her skirt 
 stopping half-way below the knees to reveal a 
 pair of man's boots, gave the effect of a child of 
 twelve. When she turned, the shock of the 
 empty gums, the skin hanging in pockets on 
 the cheeks, the eyes showing from their pouches 
 like cold lanterns, caused her to seem like a 
 being who had never known youth. 
 
 She had thrown open the doors on this August 
 morning and was conducting a resolute campaign 
 with her broom when she perceived a young man, 
 who even at that early hour, from the evidence 
 of dust, had just completed an arduous journey. 
 A bulging handkerchief swinging from a staff 
 across his shoulder evidently contained all his 
 baggage, and proclaimed the definite purpose of 
 the immigrant. The concierge regarded him 
 with some curiosity. He was too old to be a 
 truant scholar, and too much at ease to be of the 
 far provinces. Besides, his dress showed fa- 
 miliarity with the city modes. He seemed 
 rather the young adventurer running to Paris 
 in the first flush of that enthusiasm and at- 
 
 5
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 traction which the Revolution in its influx had 
 awakened. 
 
 The dress itself proclaimed, not without a 
 touch of humor, the preparation of the zealous 
 devotee approaching the Mecca of his ambi- 
 tions. His cocked hat, of a largeness which 
 suggested another owner, was new and worn 
 jauntily, with the gay assurance of youth in its 
 destiny. A brilliant red neck-cloth was arranged 
 with the abandon of pardonable vanity. A clear 
 blue redingote, a cloth-of-gold vest, and a pair of 
 drab knickerbockers completed a costume that 
 had drawn many a smile. For while the coat 
 was so long that the sleeves hid the wrist, the 
 vest was bursting its buttons, and though the 
 knickerbockers pinched, the hat continued to 
 wabble in dumb accusation ; so that two gener- 
 ations at least must have contributed to the 
 wardrobe of the young bucaneer. 
 
 At the moment the concierge discovered the 
 youthful adventurer, he was engrossed in the 
 task of slapping the dust from his garments, 
 while his eyes, wandering along the streets, were 
 searching to some purpose. 
 
 Curiosity being stronger than need, it was 
 la Mere Corniche who put the first question. 
 
 "Well, citoyen, you seek some one in this 
 street?" 
 
 6
 
 IN SEARCH OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 " The answer should be apparent," the young 
 fellow answered frankly. " I seek a lodging. 
 Have you a room to let *? " 
 
 " H'm ! " La Mere Corniche eyed him un- 
 favorably. " Maybe I have, and maybe I have n't ; 
 I take no aristocrats." 
 
 The young man, seeing that his clothes were 
 in disfavor, began to laugh. 
 
 " In as far, citoyenne," he said, wjth a sweep 
 of his hand, " as it concerns these, I plead guilty: 
 my clothes are aristocrats. But hear me," as his 
 listener began to scowl. " They were ; but aristo- 
 crats being traitors, I confiscated them; and," 
 he added slyly, " I come to deliver them to the 
 State." 
 
 " And to denounce the traitors, citoyen," the 
 concierge exclaimed fiercely, "even were they 
 your father and mother." 
 
 "Even that if I had a family," he added 
 cautiously. "And now, citoyenne, what can 
 you do for me ? " 
 
 With this direct question, the fanatic light in 
 her face died away. The little woman with- 
 drew a step and ran her eyes over the prospec- 
 tive tenant. She made him repeat the question, 
 and finally said, with a sigh, as though regretting 
 the price she had fixed in her mind, "How 
 long?" 
 
 7
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " A year two years indefinitely." 
 
 "There are two rooms and a parlor on the 
 second," she began tentatively. 
 
 " That suits me." 
 
 " The price will be for you " la Mere Cor- 
 niche hastened to increase the sum, " thirty 
 francs a month." 
 
 " Good." 
 
 " Payable in advance." 
 
 The young fellow shrugged his shoulders, and 
 with a comical grin turned his pockets inside out. 
 
 " What ! " la Mere Corniche shrieked in 
 her astonishment. " You swindler ! You have 
 taken an apartment at thirty francs a month 
 without a sou in your pocket." 
 
 "At present." 
 
 " Get off, you, who 'd rob a poor old woman." 
 
 " We '11 renounce the apartment, then," he 
 cried, with a laugh. " One room, citoyenne ; 
 give me one room if you are a patriot." 
 
 " Patriot robber ! Be off or I '11 denounce 
 you ! " 
 
 The young fellow, seeing his case hopeless, 
 prepared to depart. 
 
 "Good-by, then, mother," he said. "And 
 thanks for your patriotic reception. Only direct 
 me to the house of Marat and I 'm done with 
 you." 
 
 8
 
 IN SEARCH OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 " What have you to do with the Citoyen 
 Marat ? " cried the old woman, startled into 
 speech at that name. 
 
 " That is my affair." 
 
 " You know him ? " 
 
 " I have a letter to him." 
 
 La Mere Corniche looked at him in inde- 
 cision. An emissary to Marat was a very differ- 
 ent matter. She struggled silently between her 
 avarice and the one adoration of her life, until 
 her listener, mistaking her silence, turned impa- 
 tiently on his heel. 
 
 " Here, come back," the concierge cried, thus 
 brought to decision. " Let me see your letter." 
 
 The young fellow shrugged his shoulders 
 good-humoredly and produced a large envelop, 
 on which the curious eye of his listener be- 
 held the magic words, " To Jean Paul Marat." 
 But if she had hoped to find on it some clue 
 to its sender, she was disappointed. She 
 turned the letter over and handed it reluctantly 
 back. 
 
 " Private business, hey ? " 
 
 " Particularly private," he said. Then, seeing 
 his advantage and following up his good for- 
 tune, he added: "Now, citoyenne, don't you 
 think you could tuck me away somewhere until 
 I make a fortune ? " 
 
 9
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 The old woman hesitated a moment longer, 
 whereupon he fell to scanning pensively the ad- 
 dress, and mumbling over "Jean Paul Marat, a 
 great man that." 
 
 "Dame, I '11 do it!" la Mere Corniche sud- 
 denly cried, and with a crook of her thumb she 
 bade him follow her. But immediately she 
 halted and asked : 
 
 " Citoyen ? " 
 
 " Citoyen Barabant Eugene Armand Bara- 
 bant" 
 
 "Of?" 
 
 " Of 38 Rue Maugout," he said laconically, 
 then, with a smile, modified his step to follow 
 the painful progress of his guide. 
 
 At the dark 'entrance a raven game hopping 
 to meet them, filling the gloom with his raucous 
 cry. Barabant halted. 
 
 " It 's only Jean Paul," explained the old 
 woman. " He brings good luck." 
 
 She placed him, flapping his wings, on her 
 shoulder and continued. At the first court, by 
 the stairs that led to the vacant apartment on 
 the second floor, she hesitated, but the indecision 
 was momentary. Into the second court Bara- 
 bant followed with an air of interest that showed 
 that, though perhaps familiar with the streets of 
 Paris, he had never delved into its secret places. 
 
 10
 
 IN SEARCH OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 Twice more la Mere Corniche halted before 
 possible lodgings, until at last, having vanquished 
 each temptation, she began to clamber up the 
 shaky flights that led to the attic. 
 
 Barabant had perceived each mental struggle 
 with great enjoyment. He was young, adven- 
 turous, entering life through strange gates. So 
 when at length they reached the end of their 
 climb, and his guide, after much tugging, ac- 
 companied by occasional kicks, had forced open 
 the reluctant door, the dingy attic appeared to 
 him a haven of splendor. 
 
 La Mere Corniche watched him curiously 
 from the doorway, rubbing her chin. "Eh, 
 Citoyen Barabant ? Well, does it suit you ? " 
 
 " Perfect." 
 
 He cast a careless glance at the impoverished 
 room and craned out of the window. In his 
 survey of the court, his eye rested a moment on 
 the window below, where, through the careless 
 folds of a half-curtain, he had caught the gleam 
 of a white arm. 
 
 " And what is the price of this ? " he asked ; 
 but his thoughts were elsewhere. 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 La Mere Corniche sighed heroically, and has- 
 tened on as though distrusting her generosity. 
 "Only, when you see Citoyen Marat, tell him 
 
 1 1
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 that I, Citoyenne Corniche, have done this to one 
 who is his friend." 
 
 Barabant remained one moment motionless, 
 as though confounded at this remnant of human 
 feeling in the sibyl. But the door had hardly 
 closed when, without a glance at his new quar 
 ters, he was again at the window. The truth 
 was that, without hesitating to reflect on the in- 
 sufficiency of the evidence, he had already built 
 a romance on the sight of a white arm seen two 
 stories below through the folds of a curtain. So 
 when he returned eagerly to his scrutiny, what 
 was his disenchantment to perceive below a very 
 buxom matron, who was regarding him with 
 equal attentiveness. 
 
 Barabant, with a laugh at his own discomfit- 
 ure, began to search more cautiously. And as 
 one deception in youth is sufficient to make a 
 skeptic for an hour, when in turn he began to 
 explore the window opposite he received, with 
 indifference, the view of another arm, though it 
 was equally white and well modeled. 
 
 But this time, as though Fate were determined 
 to rebuke him for scorning her gifts, there ap- 
 peared at the window the figure of a young girl, 
 whose early toilet allowed to be seen a throat 
 and arm of sufficient whiteness to dazzle the 
 young romanticist. 
 
 . 12
 
 IN SEARCH OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 Youth and natural coquetry fortunately are 
 stronger than the indifference of poverty. Had 
 Barabant been fifty the girl would have continued 
 her inspection undisturbed; but perceiving him 
 to be in the twenties, and with a certain air of 
 distinction, she hastily withdrew, covering her 
 throat with an instinctive motion of her hand, 
 and leaving Barabant, forgetful of his first disen- 
 chantment, to gallop through the delightful fields 
 of a new romance.
 
 II 
 
 A RESCUE FROM ARISTOCRATS 
 
 AFTER a moment of vain expectation, Bara- 
 bant withdrew to the inspection of his 
 new possessions. In one corner stood a bed that 
 bore the marks of many restorations. Each leg 
 was of a different shape, rudely fastened to the 
 main body, which, despite threatening fissures, 
 had still survived by the aid of several hitches 
 of stout rope that encouraged the joints. One 
 pillow and two coverings, one chair and a chest 
 of drawers, that answered to much tugging, com- 
 pleted the installation. The floor was of tiles; 
 the ceiling, responding to the sagging of the roof, 
 bulged and cracked, while in one spot it had 
 even receded so far that a ray of the sun squeezed 
 through and fell in a dusty flight to the floor. 
 
 Barabant's survey was completed in an instant. 
 Returning to the bed, he paused doubtfully and 
 cautiously tried its strength with a shake. Then 
 he seated himself and slowly drew up both legs. 
 The bed still remaining intact, he turned over, 
 
 H
 
 A RESCUE FROM ARISTOCRATS 
 
 threw the covers over him, and, worn out with the 
 journey, fell asleep. 
 
 It was almost ten when he stirred, and the 
 August sun was pouring through the gabled 
 window. A mouse scampered hurriedly home 
 as he started up ; a couple of sparrows, hovering 
 undecidedly on the sill, fluttered off. He sat up, 
 rubbing his eyes with the confusion of one who 
 awakens at an unaccustomed hour, and then 
 sprang to the floor so impetuously that the bed 
 protested with a warning creak. His first move- 
 ment was to the window, where an eager glance 
 showed the opposite room vacant. More leisurely 
 he turned to a survey of his horizon, where in 
 the distance the roofs, of an equal height, rolled 
 away in high, sloping billows of brown tile dotted 
 with flashes of green or the white fleck of linen. 
 The air was warm, but still alive with the freshness 
 of the morning, inviting him to be out and see- 
 ing. He left his bundle carelessly on the chair, 
 brushed his clothes, arranged his neck-cloth by 
 means of a pocket-mirror, preparing himself with 
 solicitude for his appearance in the streets. 
 
 He descended the stairs alertly, listening for 
 any sound of his neighbors; but the stairways, as 
 well as the courts, were silent and empty, for at 
 that period all Paris hastened daily to the streets, 
 expectant of great events.
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Through the ugly, tortuous streets of the Fau- 
 bourg St. Antoine Barabant plunged eagerly to 
 the boulevard, where the crowd, circulating 
 slowly, lingered from corner to corner, drifting to 
 every knot of discussion, avaricious for every 
 crumb of rumor. Hawkers of ballads and pam- 
 phlets sought to slip their wares into the young 
 fellow's hand with a show of mystery and fear of 
 detection. One whispered his " Midnight Diver- 
 sions of the Austrian Veto " ; another showed him 
 furtively the title, " Capet Exposed by his Valet." 
 
 Refusing all these, Barabant halted at every 
 shop-window, before numberless engravings rep- 
 resenting the Fall of the Bastille, the Oath in the 
 Tennis-court, and the Section-halls. 
 
 The gloomy, disheveled figures of the Mar- 
 seillais were abroad, stalking melodramatically 
 through the crowds or filling the cafes to thun- 
 der out their denunciations of tyrants and aristo- 
 crats. Fishwives and washerwomen retailed to all 
 comers the latest alarms. 
 
 " The aristocrats are burning the grain-fields ! " 
 
 "A plot has been unearthed to exterminate 
 the patriots by grinding glass in their flour." 
 
 " The Faubourg St. Antoine is to be destroyed 
 by fire." 
 
 Venders of relics offered the manacles of the 
 Bastille and the rope-ladder of Latude ; fortune- 
 
 16
 
 A RESCUE FROM ARISTOCRATS 
 
 tellers prophesied, for a consideration, the fall of 
 Capet and the advent of the Republic ; an ex- 
 hibitor of trick-dogs advertised a burlesque on 
 the return of the royal family from Versailles. 
 At a marionette theater the dolls represented 
 public personages, and the king and the queen 
 (Veto and the Austrian) were battered and hu- 
 miliated to the applause of the crowds. 
 
 At points on Barabant's progress he listened 
 to young fellows from tables or chairs reading to 
 the illiterate from the newspapers, quoting from 
 witty Camille Desmoulins or sullen, headlong 
 Marat. Barabant was amazed at the response 
 from the audience, at their sudden movements 
 to laughter or anger. Swayed by the infection, 
 his lips moved involuntarily with a hundred im- 
 petuous thoughts. In this era that promised so 
 much to youth, which demanded its ardor, its 
 enthusiasm, and its faith, he longed to emerge 
 from obscurity. For youth is the period of 
 large resolutions, ardent convictions, and the 
 championship of desperate causes. In that season, 
 when the world is new, the mind, fascinated by 
 its unfolding strength, leaps over decisions, doubts 
 nothing, nor hesitates. In revolutions it is the 
 generation that dares that leads. 
 
 From the young and daring Faubourg St. 
 Antoine Barabant emerged, inspired, elate, and 
 
 17
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 meditative. Barabant, disciple of the Revolution 
 of Ideas, was bewildered by the might of this 
 torrent. It excited his vision, but it terrified 
 him. It was immense, but it might erupt 
 through a dozen forced openings. 
 
 In the Rue St. Honore, where the discussions 
 grew more abstract, he was startled at the con- 
 trast. Great events were struggling to the sur- 
 face, yet here in the cafes men discussed charm- 
 ingly on theory and principle; nor could he 
 fancy, fresh from the vigor of the people, the 
 sacred Revolution among these gay colors, im- 
 maculate wigs, and well-fed and thirsty orators. 
 
 But this first impression, acute with the shock 
 of contrast, was soon succeeded by a feeling of 
 stimulation. Attracted, as is natural in youth, 
 by the beautiful and the luxurious, and led by 
 his imagination and his ambition, he forgot his 
 emotions. Whereas in the mob he had felt 
 himself equal to the martyr, he now breathed an 
 air that aroused his powers. They discussed the 
 freedom of the individual, the liberty of the press, 
 and the abolishment of the penalty of death, with 
 grace and with unfailing, agile wit, and debated 
 the Republic with the airs of the court. 
 
 Barabant, who wished to see everything at 
 once, made a rapid excursion to the Tuileries, 
 to the Place de la Greve, the Place de la Revo- 
 
 18
 
 A RESCUE FROM ARISTOCRATS 
 
 lution, the Markets, and the famous Hall of the 
 Jacobins. 
 
 Toward evening, as the dusk invaded the 
 streets, and the lanterns, from their brackets on 
 the walls, set up their empire over the fleeting 
 day, an indefinable melancholy descended over 
 him : the melancholy of the city that affects the 
 young and the stranger. Barabant's spirits, quick 
 to soar, momentarily succumbed to that feeling 
 of loneliness and aloofness that attacks the indi- 
 vidual in the solitudes of nature and in that 
 wilderness of men, the city. 
 
 He was leaning against a pillar in the Rue St. 
 Honore", in this ruminative mood watching the 
 unfamiliar crowd, when his glance was stopped 
 by the figure of a flower-girl. She was tall, dark, 
 and lithe, and, though without any particular 
 charm of form, she had such an unusual grace 
 in her movements that he fell curiously to specu- 
 lating on her face. But the turning proving a 
 disappointment, he laughed at his haste, and his 
 glance wandered elsewhere. 
 
 " Citoyen, buy my cockade ? " 
 
 Barabant turned quickly; the flower-girl was 
 at his side, smiling mischievously up at him. 
 He was conscious of a sudden embarrassment 
 a solicitude for his bearing before the frank 
 amusement of the girl. This time he did not 
 
 19
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 turn away so carelessly. The face was attractive 
 despite its irregularity, full of force in the free 
 span of the forehead and of sudden passions in the 
 high, starting eyebrows. The eyes alone seemed 
 cold and sardonic, without emotion or change. 
 
 " Come, citoyen, a cockade." 
 
 Barabant shrugged his shoulders, and diving 
 into his purse, at length produced a few coppers. 
 
 "A patriot's dinner is more my need, cito- 
 yenne, than a cockade." 
 
 The girl, who had been watching with amuse- 
 ment this search after the elusive coins, ignoring 
 his answer, asked curiously : 
 
 " From the provinces *? " 
 
 Barabant, resenting the patronizing tone, said 
 stiffly : 
 
 "No." 
 
 "But not quite Parisian," the flower-girl re- 
 turned, with a smile, and her glance traveled in- 
 quiringly over the incongruous make-up. 
 
 Barabant laughed. " Parisian by a day only." 
 
 The girl smiled again, and, suddenly fastening 
 a cockade on his lapel, said : " You are a good- 
 looking chap ; keep your sous ; when your purse 
 is fuller, remember me." And thrusting back 
 his proffered money, she took up her basket and 
 nodded gaily to him. " Good luck to you, citoyen. 
 Vive la jeunesse !" 
 
 20
 
 A RESCUE FROM ARISTOCRATS 
 
 The accidental meeting quite restored him to 
 his eager zest again. The one greeting con- 
 verted the wilderness into a familiar land. He 
 started on his walk, seeking a humble bill of 
 fare within the range of his modest resources. 
 He chose one where the dinner consisted of a 
 thick soup the filling qualities of which he knew 
 a puree of beans and a piece of cheese. It was 
 still somewhat earlier than the dinner-hour, and 
 he finished his meal silently watched by the 
 waiter with suspicious eyes. Thence he wan- 
 dered through brighter streets, pausing at times 
 on the skirts of the crowd that invaded the 
 cafes, which now began to grow noisy with im- 
 promptu oratory. 
 
 The Palais Royal with its flaring halls drew 
 him to its tumultuous life. He wandered through 
 the gambling-rooms, through fakers' exhibitions, 
 heedless of siren voices, watching the play of 
 pickpockets and dupes, until suddenly in the 
 crowd a figure of unusual oddity caught his 
 attention : a tall, military man with a cocked 
 hat, shifted very much over one ear, and a nose 
 thrown back so far that it seemed to be scouting 
 in the air, fearful lest its owner should miss a 
 single rumor. 
 
 Without purpose in his wanderings, Barabant 
 unconsciously fell to following this new character. 
 
 21
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 The body was lank, the legs long, out of all pro- 
 portion, and so thin that they seemed rather a 
 pair of pliable stilts, while the arms hung or 
 moved in loose jerks as though dependent from 
 the joints of a manikin. 
 
 Oblivious to the banter and the scrutiny of the 
 throng, the wanderer pursued his inquisitive way. 
 From time to time he stopped, craning his neck 
 and remaining absorbed in the contemplation of 
 a chance display of tricolor or a group of shrill 
 orators sounding their eloquence to the eager 
 mass. The inspection ended, a guttural exclama- 
 tion or a whistle escaping the lips showed that the 
 impression had been registered behind the keen, 
 laughing countenance. Gradually the crowd, 
 inclined at first to jeer, perceiving him utterly 
 unconscious of their interest, turned to banter; 
 but there too they were met with the utmost 
 complacency. 
 
 " Hey, Daddy Long-legs ! " 
 
 " Beware you keep out of their reach, my 
 friend." 
 
 " Citizen Scissors ! " 
 
 " Citizen Stilts ! " 
 
 " Citizen Pique la bise ! " 
 
 At this last allusion to the manner in which his 
 nose might be said to cut the breeze, he opened 
 wide a gaping mouth and roared " Touche ! " so 
 
 22
 
 A RESCUE FROM ARISTOCRATS 
 
 heartily that the crowd, who never laugh long 
 at those who laugh with them, returned to their 
 occupation with grunts of approval. Still there 
 remained to be revealed the complexion of his 
 political belief: whether it was a patriot that 
 thus paraded the steadfast Palais Royal, or a hire- 
 ling of a tyrant aristocracy. 
 
 Here again the visitor puzzled all conjectures. 
 Arrived opposite the cafe, " To the Fall of the 
 Bastille," his glance no sooner seized the inscrip- 
 tion than he snatched off his hat with so hearty 
 a " Bravo ! " that his neighbors echoed the in- 
 fectious acclamation ; but at the very next turn, 
 perceiving a mountebank's counter presided over 
 by a pretty citizeness, he paused and repeated 
 the salute with equal vigor. Now, though the 
 tribute to a pretty face could not justly distinguish 
 the parties, yet the inspiration and the manner 
 had the taint of aristocracy. So that those who 
 had listened looked dubious, then scratched their 
 heads, and finally retired, laughing over their own 
 mystification. 
 
 With a gluttonous chuckle the stranger 
 turned suddenly into a neighboring passage. 
 Barabant followed, in time to see the lean figure 
 mount a chance staircase, ascending which on 
 the humor of the moment, he emerged in turn 
 into a cafe of unusual magnificence. 
 
 23
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Having no money with which to pay a con- 
 sommation at the tables, Barabant remained 
 among the spectators. The tall stranger had 
 joined a group in the middle of the room, whence 
 a florid Chevalier de St. Louis cried bombasti- 
 cally : 
 
 "Citizen Bottle-opener, send me the Citizen 
 Table-wiper!" 
 
 " And bring the Citizen Broom," took up an- 
 other, " to expel this Citizen Dog ! " 
 
 "Let the Citizen Crier," added another, with 
 careless scorn, "call the Citizen My Carriage!" 
 
 Amid this persiflage Barabant remained, chaf- 
 ing and angry, realizing that he had stumbled 
 into that abomination of patriots, a den of 
 aristocrats. 
 
 The purport of all table-to-table addresses was 
 the incompetency of the National Assembly and 
 the state of anarchy existing since the royal power 
 had been defied. Although the caf< was not acces- 
 sible to the mob, and was evidently of a certain 
 clientele, there was a smattering of unaccustomed 
 guests, who manifested their disapproval of these 
 remarks by grumbling and even threats. 
 
 Barabant at length, losing control of his temper, 
 sprang upon a chair. 
 
 "A government," he cried "yes, a govern- 
 ment is what we need. Let us be frank: the 
 
 2 4
 
 A RESCUE FROM ARISTOCRATS 
 
 present condition of affairs is an anomaly. It 
 cannot exist. The Revolution is to-day a farce." 
 
 " Anarchy ! " " Chaos! " "Bravo!" "Continue!" 
 
 " And why *? " he went on. " Because it has 
 not gone far enough. Either king or revolution : 
 the two cannot exist. What we need is the 
 Republic, the Republic, the Republic ! " 
 
 The words fell on the room like offal thrown 
 in the midst of ravenous wolves. A hideous 
 upheaval, a hoarse shout, a multitude of scram- 
 bling forms, and the listeners who had mistaken 
 the drift of his first words rose in fury. Some 
 one pulled the table from under him. There 
 were shouts and blows, a confusion of bodies 
 before his eyes, and babel let loose. In the 
 midst of it he felt himself suddenly enveloped 
 in a pair of wiry arms and dragged through the 
 melee. He struggled, but the grip that held him 
 was not to be shaken. Leaving behind the 
 shouting, they passed out into the turning of a 
 corridor, then through another into quiet and a 
 garden. There his captor, setting him on his 
 feet, drew back with a smile. Barabant, glan- 
 cing up, beheld the lank military figure of an 
 hour before, with his nose tipped in the air in im- 
 pudent enjoyment. 
 
 " Well, my knight-errant," he said quizzically, 
 " the next time you preach the Republic, select 
 
 25
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 a Sans-Culotte audience and not a Royalist cafe, 
 or there may not be a Dossonville to rescue 
 you." 
 
 Barabant smoothed out his clothes, crestfallen, 
 but resumed his dignity. 
 
 " From the country ! " his rescuer continued, 
 and the amusement gave place to one of re- 
 flectiveness. " Dame ! are they already crying 
 for the Republic outside of Paris *? " 
 
 " They are. That is," Barabant added, " the 
 masses are done with the king. The Girondins 
 are not so radical." 
 
 " H'm ! " Dossonville said for all answer. He 
 stood silent a moment, wrapped in his own 
 thoughts, before he again questioned him : " And 
 the Revolution: do you hear such opinions as 
 you heard to-night in the provinces'? Is there 
 no sign of a reaction *? " 
 
 " No ; everything is for more radical mea- 
 sures." 
 
 With this answer, Dossonville seemed to dis- 
 miss the matter from his mind. He looked him 
 over again, and a twinkle showing in his eyes, he 
 asked : 
 
 " More enthusiasm than friends, hey ? " 
 
 Barabant laughed. " True." 
 
 " And what are you counting upon doing *? " 
 
 Barabant remained silent. 
 26
 
 A RESCUE FROM ARISTOCRATS 
 
 " Good discretion ! " 
 
 Barabant, determined to shift the inquiry, de- 
 manded point-blank : 
 
 " What were you doing in a cafe of aristo- 
 crats?" 
 
 " What were you ? " Dossonville retorted. 
 " There are many ways to serve the Revolution 
 besides proclaiming it from the tops of tables. 
 Leave me my ways. Do you think if I were an 
 aristocrat I 'd have taken the pains to save you ? 
 Come, young man, don't turn your back on 
 opportunities. Swallow your pride and confess 
 that there are not many more meals in sight." 
 
 " I am but a day in Paris," Barabant answered ; 
 and then, lest he should seem to have relented : 
 " there are a hundred ways to find a living." 
 
 " Can you write *? Have you written pam- 
 phlets ? " Dossonville persisted. " What would 
 you say to a chance to see that fine eloquence 
 caught in black and white and circulating in the 
 streets ? " 
 
 Barabant's face flushed with such a sudden 
 delight that the other laughingly drew his arm 
 into his and exclaimed : 
 
 " Come, I see how it is. Camille Desmoulins 
 is only twenty-nine. It is the age for the young- 
 sters. Only " He stopped suddenly. " There 
 are many degrees of Republicans nowadays. 
 
 2 7
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Does your eloquence run in the line of our 
 valiant radical Marat, or Danton and Desmou- 
 lins, or are we of the school of Condorcet and 
 Roland ? " 
 
 " I am Girondin," Barabant answered. 
 
 " Good." He reflected a moment. " Just the 
 place ! " 
 
 He started on, and then suddenly stopped, as 
 by habit of caution. " No, not to-night. Where 
 do you live *? " 
 
 " Eugene Barabant, Rue Maugout, No. 38." 
 He drew out two letters. " I have a word of 
 introduction to Roland." 
 
 " And the other *? " 
 
 " To Marat." 
 
 " Ah, Marat," Dossonville said, with a sudden 
 cooling. "A strong man that, and very patri- 
 otic." 
 
 '? I do not intend to present it," Barabant said, 
 seeing the change. He hesitated a moment, as 
 though to reveal a confidence, while a smile 
 struggled to his lips. But in the end, resisting 
 the desire, he said evasively, " It is a measure of 
 protection, in case of danger." 
 
 Dossonville scrutinized him sharply, and then, 
 as though reassured by the frank visage, he said : 
 " Very well ; I '11 be around to-morrow night. 
 Try your hand at a polemic or two. Have you 
 
 28
 
 A RESCUE FROM ARISTOCRATS 
 
 a knack of poetry ? Satires are more powerful 
 than arguments. A laugh can trip up a co- 
 lossus." 
 
 " I have done a little verse." 
 
 " Who has n't ? " He paused. " You will be 
 discreet ? Au revoir ! " 
 
 He turned on his heel, but immediately re- 
 turned. 
 
 " I forgot. One word of advice." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Revolutions strike only among the steeples. 
 Take my advice : renounce publicity and remain 
 obscure." 
 
 "But I had rather die in this age than live 
 through another." 
 
 "Well, my duty's done," Dossonville answered, 
 shrugging his shoulders. Then repeating to 
 himself Barabant's last response, he added, " That 
 sounds well ; food for the mob ; put it down." 
 
 And without more ado, he left him as de- 
 lighted as though he had just been elected to 
 the National Convention. 
 
 29
 
 Ill 
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 TOWARD six o'clock the next morning, 
 when la Mere Corniche and her broom 
 alone were stirring, there appeared at a gabled 
 window that broke through the crust of the 
 roofs, the figure of a young girl, who, after a 
 glance down at the quiet courtyard and the 
 windows void of life, remained to give the final 
 touches to a scattering of golden hair. 
 
 The air was still young, and in the skies the 
 multifarious tints of the dawn had not quite 
 faded as the burly sun bobbed up among the 
 distant chimney-tops. She ensconced herself in 
 the window, running her hands with indolent 
 movements through the meshes as though re- 
 luctant to leave the flash and play of the sun 
 amid its lusters. She was young and pretty, and 
 she knew it, and, with a frank enjoyment, she let 
 the long locks slip through her fingers or brought 
 them caressingly against her cheek. 
 
 Though from her figure she could not have 
 
 30
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 been more than eighteen, yet in the poise of her 
 head and in the subtile smile, full of grace and 
 piquancy, there showed the coquetry of the 
 woman who plans to please the masculine eye. 
 
 Suddenly she sprang back, leaving the win- 
 dow vacant. A moment later there emerged 
 opposite the thoughtful face of Barabant. Un- 
 aware of her proximity, he swept the courtyard 
 with an indifferent look, and drawing from his 
 pocket the three sous that alone remained to 
 him, he fell into a deep meditation. 
 
 Presently the sprightly eyes and mischievous 
 profile of the girl returned, cautiously, as though 
 awaiting a challenge. Then, as in the abstrac- 
 tion of his mood he continued to be oblivious to 
 her presence, she advanced to fuller view. 
 
 Gradually her curiosity became excited by an 
 evident conflict in his 1 moods. At one moment 
 he pulled a long, somber face, and at the next 
 he lapsed into laughter. As human nature can- 
 not endure in silence the spectacle of some one 
 laughing to himself, the girl, unable longer to 
 restrain her interest, called to him with that mel- 
 ody which is natural to the voice of a maiden : 
 
 " Well, citoyen, are you going to laugh or 
 cry?" 
 
 At her banter, Barabant started up so suddenly 
 that one of the sous which he had been re- 
 
 31
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 garding meditatively slipped from his fingers, 
 bounded on the roof, rolled along the gutter, 
 and disappeared in the water-hole. 
 
 " Diable ! there goes my dinner ! " 
 
 *' How so *? " the girl said, repressing her 
 laugh at his long face. 
 
 " I had three ; one for lunch, one for dinner, 
 and one for some purchases I intend to make." 
 
 " Dame ! citoyen, three are not many sous." 
 
 Barabant drew himself up proudly. " Plenty, 
 after to-night." 
 
 " When your banker returns ? " 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " And I have made you lose your dinner : a 
 bad beginning for neighbors, Citoyen ?" 
 
 "Citoyen Eugene Barabant. Citoyenne ?" 
 
 " Nicole." 
 
 " Nicole <? " 
 
 " Heavens, is n't Nicole enough ? One name 
 is all we need; besides, it would take me too 
 long to find out the other." 
 
 As she said this, she smiled so unaffectedly 
 that Barabant, forgetting the pangs of hunger, 
 looked on admiringly. 
 
 " You are a philosopher, Nicole. And what 
 do you do if it is not indiscreet to ask ? " 
 
 She understood perfectly the hesitancy, but 
 laughed without a trace of disconcertion. 
 
 3 2
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 " Oh, I work hard ; I am a bouquetiere. 
 Which reminds me, I must be off to the flower- 
 market." 
 
 However, she lingered a moment. "And 
 you, citoyen?" 
 
 "Traveler," Barabant said, with a superb 
 wave of his hand, and then exploded in laughter 
 at the thought. "Citoyenne, tell me some- 
 thing." 
 
 " Speak." 
 
 " Have you ever fasted a day ? " 
 
 " Hundreds of times." 
 
 " If you have but one meal in sight, when is 
 the best time to take it ? " 
 
 " In the middle of the day ; something may 
 happen before dinner." 
 
 Barabant made a wry face. 
 
 " Seriously, how much have you ? " 
 
 He held up the two sous. 
 
 " Two sous, and you speak of buying a meal, 
 a crumb of bread ! " 
 
 " Perhaps," Barabant admitted, " meal is an 
 exaggeration." 
 
 " Come, you are a good fellow," Nicole said, 
 nodding approvingly. " You have the right 
 spirit. I have made you lose one dinner; it is 
 only right that I should make reparation. Will 
 you lunch with me ? " 
 
 33
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 To her amusement, he drew up proudly at the 
 thought of accepting a favor from her. She 
 smiled at this show of pride, liking it, but 
 trusting in the bloom and charm of her youth to 
 defeat it. She did not trust in vain. After a 
 brief conflict which showed clearly the weak 
 surrender, he ended by smiling in turn. 
 
 " Only," he cried, " I accept it as a loan." 
 
 " Heavens ! but I did n't intend to pay, myself," 
 she protested, well pleased with her victory. " If 
 you think dinners are to be had only for pay 
 you are not a Parisian yet." 
 
 " In that case, I accept." 
 
 " Meet me, then, at eleven o'clock, Place de la 
 Republique, Citoyen Barabant." 
 
 " I shall be there an hour ahead ! " 
 
 At the door of the next room she called, 
 " Louison ! " drumming quietly with her ringers. 
 Receiving no answer, she entered. The bed was 
 vacant, undisturbed. Without surprise, and with 
 even a certain satisfaction at being freed from 
 the company of her friend, she passed down and 
 out into the streets on her way to the Marche des 
 Fleurs. 
 
 As she went, with many an energetic toss of 
 her head interspersed with pensive smiles, she 
 turned over in her mind the impressions of her 
 first encounter, with the confidence of the woman 
 
 34
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 who at the first exchange of glances feels her 
 power. He had shown his admiration without 
 timidity, which would have been vexatious, or 
 forwardness, which would have been unendur- 
 able. She liked his show of pride, and more 
 that he had yielded before the temptation of her 
 eyes. That tribute sent her straying into the 
 thousand and one pleasurable paths with which 
 her ardent imagination filled the future. 
 
 At the flower-markets her preoccupation was 
 so evident that she was compelled to run the fire 
 of banter. She bore the ordeal with equanimity, 
 hurrying away with buoyant step and eyes alert, 
 impatient for the morning to pass. 
 
 She passed along the boulevards, disposing of 
 her cockades among regular customers, until at 
 length she arrived at her destination, the Cafe 
 Procope. There, mounted on a chair, a short, 
 roly-poly ragamuffin, with bloated, pouter cheeks 
 and squinting, almond eyes, was reading the 
 morning bulletins in such thunderous tones that 
 one readily divined the crier of carriages, whose 
 voice had been trained in the battle of street 
 sounds. 
 
 Among those assembled at the tables, she di- 
 rected her way to where a gruff, gaunt man, 
 sunk in a capacious redingote, was heralding 
 her approach with a look of welcome. 
 
 35
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Good morning, Papa Goursac," she said, 
 slipping into a waiting seat. " Here 's your 
 cockade, the best, as usual ! " 
 
 " There, take your drink," he answered, 
 showing her the glass. He roused himself from 
 his attitude of whimsical inspection, turning to 
 her a look that belied the stern voice. " Well, 
 and what luck to-day ? " 
 
 " The best," she said, showing him her lightly 
 laden basket. 
 
 " Of course you did not notice the new 
 lodger," said Goursac, scornfully. His bushy 
 eyebrows and looming beak seemed so grim that 
 Nicole with difficulty suppressed a laugh. 
 
 " Indeed," she said, pretending ignorance to 
 plague him, " is there a new lodger *? " 
 
 " Yes, but he 's a doctor, old as I am, so he '11 
 not interest you." 
 
 " What a bad humor you are in," she said, 
 enjoying his wrath. "As though you did not 
 interest me ! " 
 
 " You know what I mean." 
 
 Aware of his suspicious scrutiny, she con- 
 tinued. " What a pity ! Why could n't he 
 have been a young fellow? Ah, mon Dieu, 
 what time is it ? " 
 
 " Why do you want to know *? " growled 
 Goursac. " Whom are you going to meet *? " 
 
 36
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 "The old doctor, of course," she answered, 
 laughing as she escaped. 
 
 As she passed in front, the ragamuffin was 
 still roaring the news. 
 
 " Heavens, Jambony," she cried, " there is no 
 need to let the foreigners know what is taking 
 place ! " 
 
 "Citoyenne, you exaggerate," the carriage- 
 crier answered ; " I am only whispering." 
 
 "Then, my dear Jambony, just think your 
 thoughts. I am sure they will be loud enough! " 
 
 In great good humor, she began to work her 
 way in the direction of the wrecked Bastille, and 
 perhaps from the very elevation of her spirits, 
 good luck quickly emptied her basket. Thus 
 freed, she lapsed into the spectator, flattening her 
 nose against the shop-windows or drifting lazily 
 from knot to knot of discussion. 
 
 All at once, when she was wandering from the 
 thoroughfares among a tangle of silent, murky 
 alleys, a child's scream brought her to an atten- 
 tive halt. The cries redoubled. Without a 
 thought of personal danger, she plunged recklessly 
 down the alley in the direction of the appeals. 
 Under the bulging shadow of a balcony a girl 
 was struggling in the clutches of a mountebank, 
 while, from a box on the ground, a monkey was 
 adding its shrill chatter to the broil. 
 
 37
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 At Nicole's charge the man released the girl 
 with an oath and sprang back against the wall. 
 At the sight of the shriveled-parchment face 
 and the familiar leer Nicole burst out, in aston- 
 ishment: 
 
 "Ah, Cramoisin, I might have known it was 
 you!" She replaced in her belt the knife she had 
 drawn, facing him with the whips of her scorn. 
 
 "Women are too strong for you, then ! You 
 must match your strength with children. Bravo ! 
 my brave fellow, you are the victor at last. Wait 
 until I sing your praises. You shall become 
 famous, tamer of children ! " 
 
 "Vixen!" shrieked the mountebank, stung to 
 words by her gadding. He shook a lean fist at 
 her, crying, "Thy turn '11 come ! " 
 
 " And I who thought you were pining away 
 for love of me!" she continued mercilessly. 
 " Fickle Cramoisin ! There, be off, be off, do you 
 hear, or I shall be tempted to chastise you ! " 
 
 Cramoisin, not disdaining the offer of retreat, 
 slung his mountebank's box on his back and 
 scurried off, the ape on his shoulder chattering 
 back at them with communicated fear. 
 
 Nicole turned. A slip of a girl, half child, 
 half savage, was regarding her from round, wolf- 
 ish eyes, shrinking against the wall. " There, 
 there, ma petite," she said, " there is nothing to 
 
 38
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 cry about. That Cramoisin is as weak as a leaf; 
 you could have pushed him over with a finger. 
 And your knife *? " 
 
 The girl, still sobbing, shook her head. 
 
 " Heavens ! child, you are not fit to be abroad. 
 There, stop crying, I tell you. I do not like to 
 hear it." But perceiving that the girl was 
 thoroughly unnerved, she abandoned her note of 
 command, and, enveloping her with her arm, said 
 gently : " Come, mon enfant, I promise you there 
 is nothing more to fear. Cramoisin is as much 
 afraid of me as the fat Louis of the Citoyen 
 Marat. I '11 take you under my protection. You 
 are nothing but a child; no wonder the brute has 
 frightened you. Come, what 's your name ? " 
 
 " Genevieve." 
 
 "How old?" 
 
 " Fifteen." 
 
 " But that is almost a woman ! Why, I am 
 but eighteen. One must be gay, that is all, and 
 have a bit of a temper." 
 
 Seeing that the girl was recovering, she con- 
 tinued for a while her light tone. " And where 
 do you live *? " 
 
 " 38 Rue Maugout." 
 
 " Impossible ! Since when *? " 
 
 "Two months." 
 
 " How curious ! And I have never noticed you." 
 
 39
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " I am not very big." 
 
 "Bah, you are big enough and old enough, 
 only you need some hints. See there ! " With a 
 deft hand she drew in the dress over the hips 
 and loosened it at the throat. " You have really 
 a good figure, but you don't know it. You must 
 be coquette before you can be a woman. In 
 future I '11 keep an eye on you. Where do you 
 sleep?" 
 
 " In the cellar." 
 
 " I thought so. Sleep with me to-night, then; 
 there 's room enough. All right now? I must be 
 going." 
 
 Genevieve caught her hand and covered it 
 with kisses. 
 
 " There, kiss my cheek," Nicole said, affected 
 by her display of gratitude. " What a baby ! 
 You shall stay with me. Until to-night, then." 
 
 All at once she remembered her engagement, 
 and on the moment, forgetting the new partner- 
 ship so lightly contracted, she hurried away, with 
 such good will that she arrived exactly on time. 
 As this was not to her liking, she screened her- 
 self in the crowd, seeking Barabant. She found 
 him soon, approaching, still immersed in his pro- 
 jected article and betraying his preoccupation 
 by such scowls and sudden gestures that the 
 passers-by would have taken him for demented 
 
 40
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 had not the spectacle been one familiar to their 
 eyes. 
 
 " Ah, mon Dieu ! " Nicole said to herself, " I 
 thought I 'd found a man, and he turns out a 
 philosopher. ' Also, he does not seem very much 
 occupied in looking for me ! " 
 
 She stepped forward to meet him, saying mis- 
 chievously : " Well, have you settled the affairs 
 of the nation *? What furor on an empty stomach, 
 Citoyen Eugene ! " 
 
 Barabant returned to earth quickly, not a little 
 ashamed at the flights of his imagination, and 
 his laugh betrayed his discomfiture as he said : 
 
 " It helps one to forget the vacancy." 
 
 Nicole leading the way, they hurried through 
 the thronged streets, scenting at every step the 
 inviting odor of soups and stews, until they 
 arrived at a large tavern, or brasserie, around 
 which was a thick crowd struggling for admission. 
 
 " Have you heard of Santerre ? " Nicole said. 
 " A very wise man who has discovered that the 
 seat of popularity lies in the stomach." 
 
 " The Romans placed all the affections there." 
 
 " Ah, you 've had an education," Nicole said, 
 with a new respect. " There 's Santerre." 
 
 Before the entrance a huge mass of a man, 
 boisterous in his hospitality and his laughter, 
 was distributing enormous hand-shakes. 
 
 41
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Nicole saluted him with evident familiarity. 
 
 " I have brought you a patriot to dinner, 
 citoyen ! " 
 
 Santerre winced a bit and grumbled : 
 
 "Eh, Nicole, and you have brought yourself 
 along." 
 
 " Vive Santerre ! " the girl cried, with a laugh. 
 " Citoyen Barabant has just arrived, and the first 
 thing he asked was to see the famous leader of 
 the Faubourg St. Antoine." 
 
 *' At lunch-time, of course," said Santerre, with 
 a shrug. " Pass in and eat." 
 
 Nicole seized Barabant by the hand and en- 
 tered the restaurant, already crowded with the 
 self-invited guests of the leader's ready hospi- 
 tality. They found a corner table and settled 
 down to a quiet inspection of the noisy room. 
 
 Masons, carters, and laborers preponderated, 
 while a smattering of young lawyers and jour- 
 nalists circulated from table to table, with ready 
 hand-shakes, to take up the conversation or clink 
 a glass in toasts to the dozen subjects most in 
 favor. Above the din of plates and cutlery, 
 cutting the hum of voices, the toasts emerged 
 sharply. 
 
 " To the Bonnets Rouges ! " 
 
 " To the good Sans-Culottes ! " 
 
 " A bas les Tyrans ! " 
 42
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 " Vive la Constitution ! " 
 
 " Vive Santerre ! " 
 
 " Long life to our host ! " 
 
 At times the Carmagnole, at times some popu- 
 lar ballad of the day, would start from a corner, 
 and gathering headway, would gradually run 
 through the noise of the room until, absorbing 
 all other sounds, it ended in a gale. Where- 
 upon there would be a clatter of knives and 
 glass, shouts of " Bravo ! " laughter, and more 
 drinking. 
 
 Barabant was too susceptible a nature not to 
 respond to the magnetism of such surroundings. 
 His look regained all its ardor of the morning, 
 until Nicole regarded him with a new interest. 
 He had the long, narrow forehead of the period, 
 marked with thoughtfulness and curiosity. The 
 nose was high-bridged, the nostrils were sensitive 
 and dilating with emotion. The gray eyes were 
 shrewd, kind, gay, and noting, with the mobility 
 and charm of the enthusiast, but, in their repose, 
 without that impress of authority and earnestness 
 of purpose which give to the man of imagination 
 the genius of leadership. 
 
 " Come, citoyen," Nicole said, at the end of 
 her inspection, " tell me something about your- 
 self. I am filled with curiosity." 
 
 " Ma foi, Nicole," Barabant answered, " it 's 
 
 43
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 not much. I was at Fontainebleau ; I 'm now in 
 Paris. I had an uncle who disapproved of my 
 ideas; he showed me the door, I declared his 
 goods confiscate, and here I am, not a bit de- 
 pressed, with but one debt," he added as an 
 afterthought. 
 
 " Debts are aristocratic ; renounce them." 
 
 " The trouble is, I can't rid myself of the 
 creditor, though I pay him over and over." 
 
 Nicole raised her glance in surprise, but Bara- 
 bant added, smiling, " It is my stomach, and a 
 persistent creditor he is." 
 
 Nicole laughed gaily. " There, touch hands," 
 she cried. " You are the philosopher." Persist- 
 ing in her inquiry, she continued encouragingly : 
 " You have a father *? " 
 
 Barabant smiled. " And a mother, too. And 
 now no more questions, Nicole, for I shall refuse 
 them." 
 
 She drew back with a little movement of 
 pique, but yielding to her natural moods, she 
 lifted her eyebrows and, with her charming 
 smile, said with frankness : 
 
 " Ah, you are legitimate, then. I have only 
 a mother; that is to say, I had. She is dead 
 now. I don't remember her. God rest her soul." 
 
 A little movement of superstition passed over 
 her face and she crossed herself. " My father 
 
 44
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 was a sergeant of the line, so they tell me." She 
 threw out the palms of her hands. " Who 
 knows ? It might as well be a rag-picker, or a 
 prince, for all the good it does me." 
 
 " Diable ! " Barabant exclaimed, regarding her 
 more closely. "You don't seem to be cast 
 down." 
 
 " Oh, no ; it 's only this year I 've been by 
 myself. I was brought up by my aunt Aunt 
 Berthe. What a woman ! " She shook her head 
 grimly. " When I came in late she beat me, 
 oh, but solidly, firmly." She grimaced and, 
 with the instinct of acting that is of the people, 
 drew her hand across her shoulder, as though 
 still smarting under the sting. "And do you 
 know how it ended *? " 
 
 " Well, how ? " 
 
 " It ended by my taking the cane from her 
 one night and laying it over her. Oh, such a 
 beating ! I was striking for old scores. Aie ! 
 a'ie ! After that, you understand, I could n't 
 return." 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 " So I took a room next to Louison." 
 
 Barabant raised his eyebrows in question. 
 
 " Louison *? She 's a comrade. You will 
 see her." She stopped. " We are good friends, 
 only I well I don't know." Nicole, who 
 
 45
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 conversed abundantly with her shoulders, raised 
 them again. " When you 're rich you can choose ; 
 but with us, we take what 's nearest. We must 
 have some one to gossip with, to weep with, to 
 laugh with, to confide a little in, and so we 
 take what we can get. That 's how it is." Sud- 
 denly she halted suspiciously. "Are you a 
 patriot ? " she asked point-blank. 
 
 " You 'd have thought so last night." Bara- 
 bant, remembering the drubbing he had escaped 
 the night before, grinned and nodded. At his 
 description of the cafe Nicole showed great 
 interest. 
 
 "^ou said that, and escaped with your life 
 from that den of aristocrats !" she exclaimed, in 
 horror, for she had the popular idea that aristo- 
 crats were ogres and inhuman monsters. At the 
 first words descriptive of his rescue she cried: 
 
 " Dossonville; beyond a doubt, Dossonvitle ! " 
 
 " What, do you know him *? " said Barabant. 
 " Who and what is he ? " 
 
 " Now you have asked me a question. What 
 is Dossonville ? " Suddenly she became serious. 
 " He is a mystery to me and to more than me. 
 Frankly, I do not know his party, and don't be- 
 lieve any one else does. He is here and there, 
 with the patriots one moment and the court the 
 next; but whether he is acting for one side or
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 for neither, no one knows. And he rescued 
 you ! " She meditated a moment. " That sounds 
 like a patriot; but then, what was he doing in 
 such a place *? " 
 
 The crowd became more boisterous as the 
 wine-jugs grew lighter; seeing which, Nicole 
 rose and made a sign to him to follow. In the 
 front room she stopped before a vat on which, 
 his huge body astride, Santerre was bandying jests 
 with the crowd. Nicole, approaching, whispered : 
 
 " Is it for to-night ? " 
 
 The brewer affected not to understand her. 
 
 " Look here, my big fellow," she said, with the 
 familiarity of the day, " do you want me to cry 
 it from the housetops? Will you understand 
 me now *? " 
 
 " I don't know when it is to be, or if it will 
 ever be." He sank his voice. " The leaders are 
 wavering ; only the tocsin can tell." 
 
 "We assemble by sections'?" 
 
 Santerre nodded. 
 
 Nicole, only half satisfied, turned away. 
 
 Barabant, who had overheard enough to form 
 a conjecture, kept his counsel ; but Nicole, ap- 
 proving his discretion, imparted the information. 
 
 "They say we are to storm the Tuileries. 
 But every one hangs back. They are in a panic 
 at the last moment." 
 
 47
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Why, it is folly ; think of the National 
 Guard ! " Barabant exclaimed. 
 
 " I see well you have just arrived. The Na- 
 tional Guard, indeed ! We are the National 
 Guard. It is only the Swiss we have to fear." 
 
 They had gained the right bank of the Seine, 
 and paused from time to time to watch the 
 water-carriers filling their casks in the river, and 
 the loiterers angling sleepily in the shadow of 
 the boats. 
 
 Barabant, despite the fires of patriotic fervor, 
 had for some time forgotten his mission in the 
 contemplation of the fresh cheeks and the free 
 carriage of his companion, more and more be- 
 guiled from his task of righting the wrongs of 
 the nation by this gipsy of the streets who trav- 
 ersed the rough paths of fortune with such 
 perfect bonhomie. 
 
 Nicole, happening to look up, met an unmis- 
 takable fixture of gaze, and divined the workings 
 of his mind. She withdrew slightly and said 
 reprovingly : " Not too fast, Citoyen Barabant ; 
 we are not in the provinces." 
 
 Barabant defended himself. 
 
 " My dear Nicole, I have committed no 
 offense. I have done nothing but wish. Judge 
 my acts ; my thoughts are not offenses." 
 
 " You are not slow at an answer, citoyen," said 
 
 4 8
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 Nicole, amused. " There, take my hand if you 
 wish. Only, not too fast." 
 
 He took her hand, and together they went 
 joyfully through Paris, laughing like two children 
 of the people. 
 
 " Barabant, I like you," she said from time to 
 time. " You are a good fellow." Once she 
 added naively, " You know, all the same, it is 
 lonely at times." Then, with a laugh, " Aliens, 
 comrade ! " 
 
 She led him through the boulevards, pointing 
 out celebrities at every step, showing him the 
 cafes, Feuillantes or Jacobin. They were con- 
 stantly halted by the sudden assembly of a crowd 
 to listen to some singer perched on a chair above 
 their shoulders, intoning his ballads. 
 
 Presently Nicole said: "Barabant, do you not 
 feel something in the atmosphere something 
 extraordinary *? " 
 
 He sharpened his wits and gradually began to 
 distinguish currents in the crowd, and it seemed 
 to him that there was some subtle communica- 
 tion by furtive glances of inquiry and nods of 
 intelligence. 
 
 " I believe it will be for to-night," she 
 whispered. 
 
 He felt in her hand something nervous and 
 exalted. 
 
 49
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Were you at the taking of the Bastille ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 *' Yes. Wait till you see the women of Paris ! " 
 Her eyes grew large as they lost themselves in 
 recollection. Then suddenly she added : " But 
 you have n't seen the gardens of the Palais Royal, 
 and the tree of the green cockades from which 
 Desmoulins called us to arms ! " 
 
 Leading him into the historic garden, she 
 showed him the chestnut-tree surrounded by a 
 crowd of curious seekers, many of whom snatched 
 up the leaves for mementos. 
 
 Everywhere were swarms of children, shriek- 
 ing high, shrill notes, running and leaping, dodg- 
 ing in and out of the most sedate groups, and 
 stopping occasionally to mimic the swollen front 
 and bombastic arm of the hundred and one 
 orators about whom swirled a hundred and one 
 eddies. Newsboys, racing ahead of their com- 
 petitors, cried hoarsely the latest bulletins ; while 
 in their wake improvised orators mounted on 
 tables and announced the news amid a gale of 
 comments. Through the throng a score of flower- 
 girls twisted their way, calling their patriotic cock- 
 ades, nodding familiarly to Nicole, who from all 
 sides received salutations of deputies and orators. 
 
 "You are well known," said Barabant, sur- 
 prised at the range of her acquaintance. 
 
 50
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 " Pardi, I should hope so," she answered, with 
 a proud toss of her head. " Bouquetieres are 
 useful. We go everywhere, see everything. 
 We are the scouts of the Republic. I have 
 influence, Barabant; I '11 push you ahead," she 
 added, with a determined nod. " Can you speak 
 from the tribune *? " 
 
 " I have done so." 
 
 "Good. You must "go to the club. Speak 
 out. Do not be afraid. I adore fire and spirit ! " 
 She looked at him critically. " You have the 
 eyes and the lips of the orator. Yes, I 'm sure 
 you can speak." 
 
 Barabant thrilled at the inspiration in her eyes, 
 and some of the fierce, exulting spirit, the uncon- 
 querable gaiety and daring of this gamine, passed 
 swiftly into his soul. Filled with the bombastic 
 daring and sublime confidence of the patriot, 
 he cried : " Give me the chance ; give but the 
 chance ! They shall hear me and listen ! " 
 
 Nicole had a wild impulse to embrace him, 
 but, restraining her enthusiasm, she contented 
 herself with passing from his hand to his arm. 
 
 " How old are you *? " she asked all at once. 
 
 " I am twenty-four," Barabant said, with im- 
 portance. 
 
 " Why, you are a child." 
 
 " Camille Desmoulins is not thirty." 
 
 51
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " True." 
 
 " And what is six years *? " 
 
 "I had n't thought of it," admitted Nicole. 
 " I am eighteen ; but in Paris at eighteen there 
 is not much unlearned. Aliens, les enfants." She 
 drew up to his side, hanging a little on his arm. 
 " Barabant, you are a lucky fellow," she said mis- 
 chievously. 
 
 Barabant, who perfectly understood her allu- 
 sion to mean lucky in meeting her, drew her 
 closer as they elbowed their way out of the 
 throng. He bent his head to scrutinize her, while 
 Nicole not too consciously accepted the gaze, 
 confident in herself: she was young and she 
 was a Parisian. Her features were rather saucy 
 than regular; her figure, though full and graceful, 
 was perhaps too perfect for eighteen, when a 
 certain slenderness is a future guaranty. But 
 the eyes of the young man do not look into the 
 future. Barabant saw only giving color to her 
 cheeks, a glow to the eye, and a spring to the foot 
 that bloom which is of youth and which speaks 
 of eagerness and impatience to embrace life. 
 
 Suddenly Nicole, seeking an interruption to 
 this scrutiny, which, though delightful, had be- 
 come embarrassing, exclaimed, "There 's Louison 
 now." She made a movement as though to free 
 her arm, immediately checking it.
 
 CITOYENNE NICOLE 
 
 Barabant, looking up, beheld the high eye- 
 brows, the starting eyes, and the curious, thin 
 smile of the flower-girl who had spoken to him 
 the night before. 
 
 She sent Nicole a greeting from her finger- 
 tips, and then perceiving Barabant, she accosted 
 him with a smile of tolerant amusement. 
 
 " Why, it 's my little man from the country ! " 
 Nodding, she passed, with the exclamation, "Bien 
 vrai, you don't lose any time ! " 
 
 " What, you have already met her *? " Nicole 
 exclaimed, disengaging her arm, suddenly quieted 
 and sobered. 
 
 " In the Rue St. Honore", last night." 
 
 A frown, swift as a thunderbolt, passed over 
 Nicole's forehead. She stopped, extended her 
 hand, and said curtly, " I must go ; good day." 
 
 Barabant looked at her in dismay. 
 
 " What has happened ? What have I done ? " 
 
 She shook her head, and without further ex- 
 planation disappeared. 
 
 53
 
 IV 
 
 BREWINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 WHEN Barabant had groped his way up 
 the tortuous ascent, he was surprised to 
 find his door open, sending a feeble glow over 
 the remainder of his journey. He crossed the 
 threshold on tiptoe, and, to his amazement, beheld 
 a man, in the uniform of the National Guard, 
 stretched out upon his bed, and two lank legs 
 that, over-lapping, were perched on the foot- 
 boards. He came forward, advanced another 
 step, and recognized Dossonville. 
 
 Barabant, believing him to be shamming, went 
 softly to the farther corner and installed himself 
 to wait. But the steady, tranquil breathing of 
 the sleeper soon convinced him. With a sudden 
 inspiration, he stole to the threshold, grasping the 
 handle of the door. The next moment there 
 thundered upon the slumberer the cry : 
 
 " Arrest him ! The aristocrat ! " 
 
 As though propelled from a catapult, the lank 
 form in one bound shot over the end of the 
 
 54
 
 BREWINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 bed, threw two chairs in front of him as a ram- 
 part, snatched out his sword, and beheld, in this 
 bellicose posture, no horrid band of Jacobins, 
 but the lithe figure of Barabant, laughing silently, 
 with folded arms. 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieu ! Why did you do that *? " 
 
 Dossonville returned the sword to the scabbard, 
 pushed aside the rampart, and extended his 
 hand, saying, " I was asleep; serves me right; but 
 you have a rude manner of jesting." 
 
 " I did not suspect your conscience was so 
 uneasy," Barabant said, retaining the quizzical 
 smile. 
 
 " Oho ! " 
 
 With his lips in this startled oval, Dossonville 
 halted. His eyes contracted into slits as he said 
 dryly, " So that was a ruse." 
 
 "If you like." 
 
 " Hello ! it was well conceived. Tiens, tiens, 
 tiens ! " His eyes continued their scrutiny. " I 
 have, perhaps, not done justice to your acumen. 
 My compliments and my excuses." 
 
 He swung his bonnet in a long, awkward, 
 trailing swoop across his feet. Barabant executed 
 a bow of equal assurance. 
 
 Dossonville returned to uprightness with a 
 snap of his heels, and a certain asperity rang in 
 the next question. 
 
 55
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "And why did you deem the experiment 
 necessary ? " 
 
 "Before intrusting my safety I prefer to re- 
 assure myself." 
 
 "You saw that at the cry of 'aristocrats' I 
 sprang to my guard." 
 
 " I said ' the aristocrat.' " 
 
 " I understood, ' Arrest him, aristocrats ! ' ' 
 
 The two men, Dossonville cool, Barabant 
 amused, measured looks, until, dismissing the 
 subject with a motion of his arm, Dossonville 
 seated himself. 
 
 " Well, what do they say of me ? " 
 
 Barabant, who did not intend to surrender his 
 vantage, straddled his chair, rested his arms on 
 the back, and, looking him magisterially in coun- 
 tenance, answered: 
 
 " Citoyen Dossonville, you seem to be a mys- 
 tery. No one knows where to place you. You 
 consort with patriots and traitors alike." 
 
 Dossonville, facing this accusation, appeared 
 to reflect a moment. 
 
 "That's true. I do not hide it from pa- 
 triots." His voice gave a meaning inflection to 
 the ending ; then he added, irritably : " There are 
 more ways than one of serving the nation. I 
 repeat, leave me mine." He broke off. " Have 
 you written anything *? Give it to me." 
 
 56
 
 BREWINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 Barabant extended the precious manuscript. 
 He took it, but before spreading it upon his 
 knee, he said : " After all, you are right. I have 
 a way to convince you. You shall see. But 
 first for this." 
 
 He began to read, with approval. "Good 
 good " ; " very good " ; " excellent." 
 
 At the end he brought his hand down upon 
 his knee with a slap. " Tonnerre de Dieu, that 
 is well put ! " 
 
 Barabant, who was soaring in the seventh 
 heaven, made a superhuman effort and forced 
 back a smile. Dossonville, much amused, 
 tapped him on the shoulder. 
 
 "Come, it is not a crime to be pleased with 
 one's self." 
 
 " You think it will do *? " Barabant stammered. 
 
 "Splendid! And now to convince this sus- 
 picious republican." He eyed him a moment, 
 enjoying the surprise his next words would 
 cause. " Suppose you return with me to San- 
 terre." 
 
 Barabant, astounded at this acquaintance with 
 his doings, dropped his jaw. 
 
 " So, do you think I would employ you with- 
 out some knowledge of your actions'?" He 
 enjoyed for a moment Barabant's embarrassment. 
 "Come, and Santerre shall reassure you." At 
 
 57
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 the door he paused, cast a rapid glance at the 
 impoverished fittings, and drew out his purse. 
 " Republican or not, the essential thing is to 
 dine." Then evading the young fellow's thanks, 
 he led the way into the city. 
 
 It was now toward twilight. The streets 
 were choked with laborers returning home. In 
 the air was an unwonted stir, a muttering, defiant 
 and eager, as the crowd discussed openly, with 
 impassioned questions, the prospective attack on 
 the Tuileries. 
 
 " It is for to-night, sure *? " 
 
 " For to-night, yes, at the tocsin." 
 
 " It 's true, is it, the National Guards are 
 coming over?" 
 
 " They 've armed the Marseillais." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Petion." 
 
 " Vive Petion ! " 
 
 Hundreds of National Guards fraternized with 
 the crowd, reassuring them. Occasionally was 
 to be seen the glimmer of a weapon, a scythe, a 
 cutlass, or a half-concealed dagger. Questioners 
 stopped them from time to time. 
 
 " Is it true, we are to attack to-night *? " 
 
 Dossonville shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " If the tocsin sounds you are. That is all I 
 know." 
 
 58
 
 BREWINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 From time to time there were new accessions 
 in the streets ; until, as the two approached the 
 Rue St. Antoine, they were forced to beg their 
 way at every step. 
 
 Dossonville, his head flung back, reviewed the 
 throng from his great height. 
 
 " What a people ! Is there anything they 
 will not dare *? " he exclaimed. " Brave people ! 
 Sublime people ! " 
 
 They passed through a side street, deserted 
 except for some straggler hastening toward the 
 human torrent. Dossonville, in a burst of confi- 
 dence, laid his hand on his companion's shoulder. 
 
 " That was good to see. I, Citoyen Barabant 
 I take nothing seriously. Men, individuals, are 
 but blind little animals wriggling for a day 
 or so. I have seen too much of selfishness, 
 of wickedness, of deceits and hypocrisy, to be 
 moved by human motives. Nothing really 
 matters, nothing is serious. But when I see 
 such a sight as that, a whole people rising with 
 one accord, ah, then that thrills me; yes, I am 
 moved ! " 
 
 Barabant was silent, more perplexed concern- 
 ing his companion than ever, and in this reflec- 
 tive mood he persevered, resolving to be on his 
 watch for artifices and tricks. About the bras- 
 serie of the famous brewer the throng was massed 
 
 59
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 so tightly that the two companions would have 
 stuck thirty feet away, unable to turn, had not 
 Santerre, from an upper window, perceived the 
 lanky form of Dossonville. The moment his eye 
 fell upon that appealing figure, he started up, as 
 though awaiting him, and hurrying down-stairs, 
 appeared at the entrance, where, by dint of 
 command and abuse, he managed to open a 
 passage, through which the crowd disgorged 
 them. 
 
 Barabant, at a nod from Dossonville, remained 
 in an anteroom listening to the compressed 
 rumble of the crowd, that reached him through 
 the open window on the warm, suffocating air. 
 He did not have long to wait. Santerre soon 
 reappeared, excited and red with the emotion 
 communicated to his fleshy head. Dossonville, 
 more tranquil, called him to them. 
 
 " I must take a message to the Bonnet Rouge," 
 he said. " It is urgent. So I must leave 
 you only, I do not forget." He glanced at 
 him, adding slyly : " Is there anything you care 
 to ask of the Citoyen Santerre ? " 
 
 Barabant, gulping down his confusion, cried : 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Good. Then you are no longer afraid you 
 are dealing with an agent of the perfidious 
 Pitt ? " 
 
 60
 
 BREWINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 Barabant seized the occasion to vanish through 
 the side exit, carrying with him the memory of a 
 chuckle. 
 
 Nicole no sooner had dismissed Barabant than 
 she regretted the act. Her intuition had warned 
 her that caprice was necessary to counteract her 
 bonhomie, which might have produced in the 
 young man an assurance of facile conquest. But, 
 left to her own devices, to her astonishment she 
 found the solitude oppressive. She made an 
 effort to dispel the ennui by seeking Goursac ; but 
 no sooner had she perceived him than, apprehend- 
 ing the banter in which he was privileged to in- 
 dulge, she halted and then turned away. 
 
 Toward evening, according to her custom, she 
 joined Louison in search of supper. 
 
 " What have you done with your com- 
 panion ? " the girl asked at once. 
 
 " I dismissed him long ago," Nicole answered 
 carelessly: from that quarter she welcomed at- 
 tack. " A man interferes with the business." 
 
 " How did you meet him ? " 
 
 " Why, I thought you knew ! He has taken 
 the room across from us ! " 
 
 "Ah, indeed. He seems interesting." She 
 took her companion's arm and said abruptly, " I 
 have taken a fancy to him, so garde a toi ! " 
 
 61
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Nicole, not certain whether she spoke in jest 
 or in earnest, abandoned uneasily the conversa- 
 tion, saying, " Where do we dine to-night ? " 
 
 " At the Bonnet Rouge." 
 
 " Why there ? " 
 
 " It is the rendezvous for the Marseillais. If 
 there is to be an attack, we '11 have the news." 
 
 " Do you think it will be for to-night ? " 
 
 "Yes; there is something in the air that 
 makes me think so." 
 
 Their way soon involved them in a network 
 of dusky, gaping streets. On each side somber 
 walls, peopled with dim, curious flecks of head- 
 gear, strained upward and back in a bulging 
 effort to draw down a little more of the allotted 
 strip of sky. The windows of taverns, on the 
 ground floor, were beginning to redden and to 
 cast faint streaks across the black, oozing streets ; 
 but the frugal inhabitants of upper stories, in 
 deference to the price of candles, still hung on 
 the sills, causing the evening to resound with 
 the nervous chatter of window-to-window specu- 
 lation. 
 
 At times the tension of conjecture and discus- 
 sion would be broken by the bass voice of a 
 passing laborer thundering forth, 
 
 "9aira! a ira! ^aira!"' 
 62
 
 BREWINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 Above the soprano of women's voices and the 
 thin piping of children responded feverishly : 
 
 "La liberte s'etablira: 
 Malgre les tyrans tout reussira!" 
 
 They found the cabaret beginning to fill up 
 by twos and threes workingmen for the most 
 part : water-carriers divesting themselves of their 
 barrels at the door with a sigh of contentment; 
 wood-carriers, with relaxed limbs, slipping grate- 
 fully into the hard wooden benches ; women of 
 the markets, corpulent, quick-tongued, smelling 
 of onion and garlic ; erstwhile actors still with the 
 strut of the stage ; an occasional bourgeois in mis- 
 fortune; a handful of gamins, impudent and witty 
 all discussing feverishly the projected attack. 
 
 The two girls, perceiving the congestion in 
 the outer room, elbowed their way to where, by 
 an inner door, a waiter of exceptional but broken 
 height was scanning the crowd with an eye to 
 orders. 
 
 " Well, Citoyen Boudgoust, what news ? " 
 
 At Louison's question, he showed the palms 
 of his hands, finally volunteering: 
 
 " Santerre is to send us word." 
 
 " There 's room beyond ? " 
 
 " You are going to eat *? " 
 
 " Of course," Louison said impatiently, as he 
 
 63
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 barred the way. " Besides, mon ami, don't you 
 think we know what 's going on *? " 
 
 He allowed them to pass, grumbling, " Every 
 one comes to talk ; no one to eat." 
 
 In the farther hall the crowd was thinner and 
 composed mostly of Marseillais and the National 
 Guard, who looked up furtively, until half a 
 dozen greetings removed their suspicions. 
 
 " Good evening, Citoyenne Nicole." 
 
 In her astonishment, she turned to find Gene- 
 vieve. 
 
 " What are you doing here, child? " she cried. 
 
 " I am listening." 
 
 " You are no longer afraid *? " 
 
 " We are to attack," the girl said proudly, and 
 her eyes snapped with defiant ardor. 
 
 " Bravo, little one ! " laughed Nicole. " Sit with 
 us, then." 
 
 She turned to Louison in explanation. 
 
 " She is my protegee who is coming to me 
 for lessons." 
 
 Louison nodded without surprise and turned 
 her slow, restrained gaze on the room, while the 
 eyes of Nicole, full of enthusiasm, leaped from 
 group to group in rapid, eager scrutiny, resting 
 finally on a knot of Marseillais near by. One 
 man dominated these uncouth, bristling, living 
 arsenals a squat figure, sprawling under the
 
 BREWINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 grotesque shadows of the lamp, which further 
 distorted his huge bulk and bullet head. One 
 ungainly, crooked hand leaned in ponderous sup- 
 port upon the table; the other was flourished 
 above him in frantic gestures, magnetic, ab- 
 surd, comic, and terrible, as he harangued his 
 comrades, who acclaimed his exhortations with 
 shouts that burst above the ceaseless roar of the 
 room. 
 
 ** They are not very coquette," Nicole said 
 critically, " and not very clean." 
 
 " Ah, but think how they have marched, all 
 the way from Marseilles!" Genevieve cried, in 
 protest. 
 
 " You know them, then ? " Nicole asked, as- 
 tonished at this side of the girl. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And that bear of a man in the center, do you 
 know his name ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered, with a slight disconcer- 
 tion. " He is the Citoyen Javogues." 
 
 "He looks like an ogre." 
 
 " Wait till you hear him." 
 
 " Really ! " answered Nicole, with a smile 
 which threw the girl into confusion. 
 
 At this moment a rumble reached them from 
 the outer room. Boudgoust, profoundly dejected, 
 appeared, followed by the insouciant figure of 
 5 65
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Dossonville. Instantly the room was filled with 
 cries. 
 
 " What news ? " 
 
 " What news from Santerre *? " 
 
 " We attack ? " 
 
 " For to-night ? " 
 
 Dossonville, facing the eager, breathless gal- 
 lery, shrugged his shoulders, uttering but one 
 word : 
 
 " Postponed." 
 
 A roar of rage and disappointment drowned 
 his voice. 
 
 " Citoyens ! " he cried, " I am but announcing 
 the decision ; I did not make it. The tyrants are 
 intrenched. Mandat is in ambush at the Pont 
 Neuf and the Arcade St. Jean. The leaders have 
 decided the moment is unfavorable." 
 
 The storm of protests increased. 
 
 " More delay ! Enough of waiting ! " 
 
 " Mon Dieu, we are not cowards ! " 
 
 " And the Prussians ? " 
 
 " He, yes, are we to wait for the foreign 
 bandits?" 
 
 " Javogues ! Javogues ! " 
 
 " Javogues, lead us ! " 
 
 ** Lead us, Javogues ! " 
 
 Nicole felt through the child at her side a 
 sudden trembling and drawing of breath. Then 
 
 66
 
 into the center of the suddenly quiet room 
 lurched the squat figure, bareheaded, bare-armed, 
 bare-chested but for a tattered shirt He seemed 
 rooted to the floor, like a mound transformed to 
 human shape, quivering in the primeval mold 
 and passions. 
 
 " Well, yes, I '11 lead you ! " The huge fist, 
 describing a circle, crashed upon a table. 
 " We 're here to fight. We '11 wait no longer. 
 Hesitate and bandy words and deliberate who- 
 ever wants we are not such ! We have suffered 
 and ached. We have been crushed to the ground, 
 saddled to the earth, we, human beings, like 
 cattle, and we remember our wrongs. Fear? 
 Neither God nor men do we fear. We came 
 here, we, marching from Marseilles, all the way 
 from Marseilles, to wipe out the accursed 
 tyrants, to make things go faster, and, by God, 
 they shall go ! " 
 
 Nicole saw the hideous face transformed, lighted 
 up with the glow of martyrdom. From lungs of 
 leather there burst a welcoming response. Dos- 
 sonville, facing the fanatic without a change of 
 position, waited imperturbably the lull. Gene- 
 vieve was breathing hard, in her excitement 
 seizing the hand of her protectress. 
 
 " Bravo, patriot, you are eloquent ! " came at 
 last the calm answer of Dossonville. " But what 
 
 67
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 can you do? March and be made into beef- 
 steaks ? The people, it is true, are hungry, but 
 not a step will the sections move without San- 
 terre. Will you march alone? What say 
 you ? " 
 
 " I say they are traitors who would halt us ! " 
 burst forth Javogues, glancing at the man who 
 dared to jest with him. 
 
 " Meaning Santerre ? " 
 
 "Meaning those who bear false messages. I 
 don't like these manners. Who are you ? " 
 
 " My friend," Dossonville said, with cool scorn 
 of the threatening throng, " you are curious." 
 
 " Aristocrat ! " 
 
 "Am I?" 
 
 " I say you are ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " You will not answer ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! Citoyen Dossonville, at present 
 lieutenant of the Section des Bonnes Nouvelles, 
 in the past soldier, sailor, actor, innkeeper, a bit 
 of everything except the law and the church. 
 Citoyen Boudgoust," he continued, shifting his 
 head just enough to bring into range the apathetic 
 waiter, " before this fire-eater is at my throat, come, 
 vouch for me ! " 
 
 The hang-down head wabbled a moment on 
 the bent shoulders. 
 
 68
 
 BREWINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 " Yes, yes, a good patriot, Citoyen Javogues, 
 and an eater of little aristocrats." 
 
 "As all good patriots should be!" retorted 
 Dossonville, gravely. " There, citoyen, good pa- 
 triots should not quarrel when there are so many 
 tyrants to be digested. There is my hand 
 touch ! " 
 
 Javogues stared at the proffered hand a mo- 
 ment stolidly, drunkenly, then deliberately folded 
 his arms. A murmur of dissent gathered volume. 
 
 " Comrade, you are wrong ! " 
 
 " Give him your hand ! " 
 
 " Aye, touch together ! " 
 
 Above the outburst the voice of Dossonville 
 rose acridly. 
 
 " Dame ! mon ami, you bring strange manners 
 from Marseilles." 
 
 " I bring something else." 
 
 " And that is " 
 
 "The way to tell a traitor." 
 
 " And that is " 
 
 " By the look in his eyes ! " Raising his fist, 
 the Marseillais lurched forward with the angry 
 shout of " Spy ! " 
 
 A dozen men rushed to separate them, while 
 the Marseillais, echoing the accusation of their 
 leader, surged furiously forward. Louison and 
 Nicole, with a common impulse, seized Dosson- 
 
 69
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 ville, and in the confusion drew him into the 
 hall and out by a rear entrance into the cool of 
 the night. 
 
 " Thanks, my dears ! " he cried, once free of 
 the turmoil, nonchalant and flippant as ever. 
 " It is always difficult to find the right word on 
 which to retreat with dignity. You saved me 
 the trouble. What! it is you, Louison and Ni- 
 cole ? Diable ! if it were only one I could offer 
 my eternal devotion for a week." 
 
 "Citoyen," cried Nicole, reprovingly, "you 
 were wrong to bait him. You have gained an 
 enemy." 
 
 "On the contrary," Louison interposed, and 
 strangely on her cold face there was a flash of 
 admiration. "Citoyen Dossonville, you were 
 splendid ! " 
 
 " No, I was a fool," he said. " It is very stupid 
 that some men must be at each other's throats 
 from the first glance. Diable ! I have a feeling 
 this fellow will bother me some day. However, 
 it will add a little interest to these quiet times. 
 Au revoir I must be off. If I stay I shall be 
 falling in love with both of you. What good 
 would that do"? Thanks, and good night!" 
 
 In the distance his footsteps grew faint, while 
 for a time the gay chorus of the Carmagnole told 
 of his passage. 
 
 70
 
 BREWINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 Nicole, leaving Louison, sought Genevieve, 
 and, with a desire to reconnoiter, struck out 
 through the now quiet Faubourg toward the 
 Hotel de Ville. There, all was animation with 
 the arrival of the delegates from the forty-eight 
 sections, assembling to deliberate upon a plan of 
 action, while from time to time messengers passed 
 like streaks down the steps and across the crowd, 
 leaving the disturbance of their trail on the 
 surface. 
 
 They passed along the Seine, where the river, 
 as though, too, at the end of the day it sought 
 its rest, lay still and black, shot across with faint 
 reflections. They arrived at the Tuileries only 
 to be barred passage by a patrol. Everywhere 
 as they made the rounds they found the palace 
 guarded and prepared ; while a hundred other 
 scouts passed ceaselessly to and fro, examining 
 the frowning walls, grim in the shadow of night. 
 
 A dozen rumors were current : the palace was 
 filled with Swiss and Chevaliers du Poignard; 
 there were cannons masked at every point; the 
 windows were protected with screens of oak; 
 the court were dancing inside, drinking to the 
 white cockades, as they had done at Versailles. 
 Others affirmed that the city was to be set on 
 fire from the four quarters; that the king had 
 fled; that the National Assembly was to be 
 
 71
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 arrested. Nicole, her curiosity satisfied and 
 wearying of these wild rumors, returned home. 
 At the Faubourg St. Antoine they found every- 
 thing tranquil, and retired for the night. It was 
 then half-past ten. 
 
 In their room Genevieve hazarded the question 
 for which Nicole had waited with amused 
 patience. 
 
 " Tell me, ^Nicole, what did you think of 
 him?" 
 
 "Of whom 4 ?" 
 
 "Of the Citoyen Javogues. Was I not 
 right?" 
 
 " He frightens me," Nicole said frankly. " He 
 had the air of a butcher a madman. Well, 
 how shall I express it *? He made me tremble, 
 almost with a premonition of danger." 
 
 " Ah, you cannot understand him," Genevieve 
 protested. " To me he is heroic ! " 
 
 " What a little Jacobin ! " Nicole said, with a 
 smile. Without attaching further importance to 
 what she considered the whim of a child, she 
 added: "Well, mon enfant, here is your room. 
 The half of it is yours for as long as you want it." 
 
 She passed to the window, casting a longing 
 glance at the dark window opposite. Surprised 
 at Genevieve's silence, she turned, a little pro- 
 voked. The child was crying. 
 
 7 2
 
 BREWINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 " Dear Genevieve ! " she cried, springing to 
 her side and taking her in her arms. "Don't 
 try to thank me ; I understand." 
 
 But the girl, through her sobs, murmured 
 again and again, " Thank you, ah, thank you ! " 
 
 " But it is I who am thankful," Nicole pro- 
 tested. " You bring me something to love and 
 to care for. I was getting used to solitude, which 
 is dangerous." 
 
 Checking her thanks, she snuffed the candle, 
 stretching out upon the bed beside the girl. 
 
 " Yes, it is bad for one to be always alone," she 
 said. 
 
 Genevieve timidly covered her hands with 
 kisses. 
 
 " No, no, kiss me on the cheek," Nicole said. 
 " And now, if you are going to obey, go right 
 to sleep." 
 
 The child nestled closer, drawing Nicole's 
 arm about her. The embrace seemed strange 
 to Nicole, and, without quite understanding why, 
 she sought to draw her arm away. 
 
 73
 
 THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES 
 
 BOOM ! Boom ! 
 All at once Nicole and Genevieve found 
 themselves on their feet in the middle of the dark 
 room. Through the open window there fell 
 upon their ears a wild metal shriek, hoarse, furi- 
 ous, angry, that spoke of fire and of the dungeon 
 the boom of the tocsin. 
 
 Boom ! Boom ! Boom ! Boom ! 
 
 Nicole bounded to the window. Below she 
 beheld startled heads in white night-caps scat- 
 tered down the length of the walls. As one 
 dog wakes the pack, another and another bell 
 took up the call, till from every point of the 
 horizon broke forth the jangle and clang of the 
 iron throats of Paris. 
 
 Below, a few tiny cries rose through the mur- 
 mur. Across the roofs came the thin shrieks of 
 a woman. Lights began to appear, forms clad 
 in night-dress. Suddenly across the court tore 
 into the night Barabant's frenzied voice. 
 
 74
 
 THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES 
 
 " To arms ! to arms ! " 
 
 As though awaiting the signal, there burst 
 upon the ear the rumbling of drums, the scat 
 tered popping of firearms, calls and answering 
 calls flung from roof to roof. 
 
 " To arms, citoyens, to arms ! " 
 
 A frenzy passed over Nicole. She leaned far 
 out, and gathering her voice, echoed : 
 
 " To arms ! " 
 
 She bounded back into the room, knocking 
 over the chair, snatched up her cloak, bounded 
 to the window to cry " To arms ! " crashed down 
 the stairs, dragging Genevieve, flung out of the 
 blind passage, bumping and bruising her shoul- 
 ders, down and out into the streets. 
 
 From every doorway figures shot forth and 
 passed, running toward the north. The two girls, 
 at top speed, joined the crowd. They passed a 
 woman with a torch, whose hair stood out in long 
 streams against the racing; la Mere Corniche 
 hobbling along as fast as her old legs would take 
 her ; families of five and six running in packs, pant- 
 ing and silent, while beneath, above, about, from 
 disgorging cellars, from loud-flung open windows, 
 from every bell the city writhed in nightmare. 
 
 Distancing their companions, they arrived 
 among the first before the brasserie of Santerre, 
 where the Quinze-Vingts were assembling, form- 
 
 75
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 ing quickly into ranks. From one window Jam- 
 bony, the crier, in an enormous red cap, was feed- 
 ing pikes to a hundred outstretched hands. The 
 arrival of fresh torches caused the walls to loom 
 up like lurid cliffs, sparkling in spots where a 
 window-pane blazed back the reflection. From 
 the windows flattened faces with black-encircled 
 eyes looked down, children too young, men 
 and women too old, to survive in the press 
 below : unhuman faces of unhuman beings, like 
 a multitude of rats driven to shelter by the in- 
 flux of a torrent. 
 
 Below, the black mass surged in, spattered, 
 under the glow of the torches, with the red of 
 the liberty-caps, while two banners hung like 
 huge blurs above the tossing surface of pikes 
 and weapons. The noise was deafening, the con- 
 fusion beyond control. Men rushed in and out, 
 their arms flung wide and high, bellowing : 
 
 " Death to the tyrants!" 
 
 "Death to the fat Louis!" 
 
 A slip of a girl, clinging on a window-sill, 
 harangued the mob ; a fishwife, astride her hus- 
 band, comic and furious, beat the air and screamed 
 to the crowd to dye the Seine red. Hags with 
 threatening fists shrieked themselves into a frenzy : 
 
 " To the Tuileries ! To the Tuileries ! " 
 
 Some, foaming, overcome with their passions,
 
 THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES 
 
 collapsed on the ground. The anger of the mob 
 against the queen gathered at times in bursts and 
 shouts : 
 
 " Death to Mme. Veto ! " 
 
 " Death to the Austrian ! " 
 
 Unthinkable obscenities were coupled with her 
 name and tossed from eddy to eddy. The Mar- 
 seillais, gathering in a body, dominated the tu- 
 mult with the swelling chords of their battle 
 hymn that on their voices became a chant of 
 carnage and a thing of terror. 
 
 It was more than a mob : it was the populace 
 in eruption. All the human passions and emo- 
 tions were there, the basest and the noblest. 
 There were the scum the lepers, the beggars, and 
 the criminals diffused among the zealots, the fa- 
 natics, and the idealists. There were the frankly 
 curious and the adventurous, and those with ha- 
 tred and vengeance in their hearts. There was 
 youth, warm-blooded and chivalrous, stirred by 
 visions, and old age impatient to see the dawn 
 all hoarse and all clamorous to march. 
 
 The order did not come. For an hour they 
 waited, trembling for the word. The uproar 
 subsided a little. The torches began to drop 
 out : there were moments of darkness when one 
 could hardly distinguish the faces about. The 
 cries to advance changed to inquiries. Boud- 
 
 77
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 goust brought back the report that Petion, the 
 mayor, was a captive, held as a hostage in the 
 Tuileries. 
 
 Santerre, the Goliath, passed among them, dis- 
 tributing hand-shakes, reassuring them, counsel- 
 ing patience. The Assembly would meet and 
 summon Petion to its bar and the court would 
 not dare detain him. Some listened, half satis- 
 fied; others, the Marseillais specially, cried out 
 for action. They waited still another hour and 
 a half. The first outburst had seemingly ex- 
 hausted the populace : they remained quietly, 
 awed at the immensity of their daring. Many, 
 tiring of the long vigil on foot, imitated Nicole and 
 Genevieve and stretched out upon the pavements, 
 forming little shallows throughout the length of 
 the street. A few melted away to seek sleep or 
 food. No more torches were lighted. The few 
 that spluttered on became pale and effaced be- 
 fore the drab of the morning. An ashen glow 
 stole over the street. Then the army that had 
 huddled through the night roused itself, shook 
 itself, gathered spirit and anger and again clam- 
 ored to advance. 
 
 Santerre, besieged by the eager, hesitated. He 
 sent off a band of pikemen and then the Mar- 
 seillais, but the rest he held irresolutely. 
 
 Suddenly a cry started up from the outskirts 
 
 78
 
 of the crowd. A tall man was seen running 
 toward them with outstretched hands, trying to 
 pierce the crowd that closed around him. A 
 great shout went up : 
 
 " The news ! The news ! " 
 
 On the outskirts a hundred hands were flung 
 up, then a thousand. The sound of a mighty 
 cry could be heard indistinguishable, rumbling, 
 gathering volume, sweeping over the crowd. 
 
 " Petion is free ! " 
 
 " Petion is at the Hotel de Ville ! " 
 
 Santerre hesitated no longer. He descended 
 from his brasserie and gave the signal. The 
 enormous mass started, moving swiftly, consum- 
 ing its way like a glacier. A scullion, with the 
 sudden converging impulse toward comradeship 
 that now permeated the throng, sought anxiously 
 for a familiar face. 
 
 A pikeman from a group, seeing his trouble, 
 called out : 
 
 " He", comrade, you seek friends. We are your 
 brothers. March with us." 
 
 In measure, as they swarmed toward the Tui- 
 leries, fresh reports came back. Mandat had been 
 summoned. The artillery at the Pont Neuf had 
 been withdrawn. Mandat was at the Hotel de 
 Ville. Mandat had fallen before the vengeance 
 of the crowd. 
 
 79
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 They hastened forward and rolled into the 
 Place de la Greve. It was then seven o'clock in 
 the morning. There, where they expected the 
 order to attack, they were compelled again to 
 wait. When they clamored they were told that 
 they were delaying for the Faubourg St. Mar- 
 ceau, which was to join them at the Pont Neuf. 
 Then these hordes, who had passed the night in 
 suspense, in the midst of rumors and counter- 
 rumors, sent up a great shout of anger : 
 
 ** Treachery ! " 
 
 The populace that could dare anything could 
 not stand suspense. A panic was imminent ; but 
 firmer spirits began to exhort them. On all 
 sides knots of men flung one of their number 
 into the air, where, from the shoulders of a com- 
 rade, witty, brilliant, and magnetic, he calmed 
 the crowd with laughter. 
 
 Nicole and Genevieve, circulating from group 
 to group, were halted by a familiar voice, and 
 beheld, aloft the giant shoulders of Javogues, the 
 ardent figure of Barabant addressing the throng. 
 
 " Peace, good, kind, gentle, loyal citizens," he 
 was saying mockingly, "you will disturb the 
 royal slumbers. Why such impatience *? The 
 Austrian cannot see you at such an hour. You 
 are forgetting etiquette ! " A roar of laughter 
 showed him his ground. " I assure you, aristo- 
 
 80
 
 THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES 
 
 crats will not fight before breakfast, before they 
 are shaved and powdered and dressed. Patience, 
 my Sans-Cuiottes ; we do not want to stab them 
 in their beds; give them time to sleep and 
 breakfast, that we may show them how Sans- 
 Culottfcs can fight. They are not Sans-Culottes ; 
 only Sans-Culottes can fight with empty stom- 
 achs! 
 
 " For shame, citizens ; one does not grumble in 
 the face of danger. Look about you. The mo- 
 ment is sublime. You who have felled the 
 Bastille, you who brought Capet back from Ver- 
 sailles you are now to strike the great blow 
 for freedom, and you grumble-. What matters 
 it if we have waited twenty hours or twenty 
 days, if we may see such an event? Who would 
 not rather die at such a moment than live in any 
 age or in any condition the world has ever 
 known? Citizens, the moment is sublime; be 
 ye also sublime ! " 
 
 He slid to the ground, amid uproarious ap- 
 proval, satisfied and elate. Javogues, the Atlas, 
 bellowed out, " That 's the way to talk ; he is 
 right ! Vive la Nation ! " 
 
 " Vive le Citoyen Barabant ! " 
 
 Barabant, recognizing the voice of Nicole, 
 turned, while the crowd, eagerly catching up his 
 name, saluted it with cheers. 
 
 8l
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Bravo the Parisian ! " 
 
 The second voice was Louison's. The two 
 girls, each armed w 'i a cutlass, sent him their 
 applause over the en vvd. But, while the frank 
 enthusiasm of Nicole inspired him, there was 
 something in the tolerant smile of Louison that 
 seemed to mock his elation. Before he could 
 reach them, the crowd, abandoning the cries of 
 treachery, exploded in anger at the Faubourg 
 St. Marceau. 
 
 " Fine patriots ! " 
 
 " What the devil are they doing ? " 
 
 " We do not need them ; to the Tuileries 
 without them ! " 
 
 " Give us news of them ! " 
 
 " Citoyens, I '11 bring you news," Barabant re- 
 torted. " A little patience and you shall know 
 of the Faubourg St. Marceau." 
 
 He returned through the chafing multitude, 
 and departed down the Rue St. Honore as fast as 
 his legs could carry him. At the Place du 
 Carrousel the mob was besieging the entrance 
 to the Tuileries, clamoring for admittance. As 
 he hesitated, the gate was flung open and the 
 mass, with the quickness of gunpowder seeking 
 an outlet, crashed in. Barabant, all else for- 
 gotten, hurled himself forward in a blind en- 
 deavor to reach the court. He tripped and fell, 
 
 82
 
 THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES 
 
 and before he could gain his feet the mob had 
 passed him. 
 
 There had been not a/' .oment of hesitation. 
 They rushed into the tr&, heeding neither the 
 windows, bristling with muskets, that confronted 
 them nor the walls that hemmed them in. Leap- 
 ing and shouting, they ran to the vestibule at the 
 end. There they saw a mass of red that colored 
 it from top to bottom a mass perfectly ordered. 
 It was the Swiss, drawn up line by line on every 
 step, their muskets at aim, awaiting the word. 
 
 The first assailants stopped irresolutely, but 
 the impetus of those behind swept them on, until 
 the vestibule was consumed and the first ranks 
 looked into the threatening barrels. Still no 
 sound. The two forces, the machine and the 
 monster, looked into each other's eyes, noting 
 little details. The populace, gaining confidence, 
 began to jest, saluting the soldiers with friendly 
 greetings, inviting them to join them. 
 
 Some one in the mob, extending a long crook, 
 hooked a Swiss and drew him into the vortex, 
 amid shouts of laughter. They clapped their 
 hands, laughing like children, and set to work at 
 this new game. A second, a third, five Swiss, 
 were thus fished out of the ranks without resisting. 
 
 All at once, from the balcony above, a voice 
 cried : 
 
 83
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Fire!" 
 
 As the sea with an immense impulse recoils 
 from an earthquake, there was a vast recoil in 
 the mob, an exact explosion from the machine. 
 The smoke, rushing down the vestibule, swirled 
 into the air and lifted. The officer leaned curi- 
 ously over the balcony and gave the order to 
 advance. The red ranks moved down and over 
 the inanimate mound; of all those who a mo- 
 ment before had laughed incredulously not one 
 survived. 
 
 Outside, the mob broke and fled up the Place 
 du Carrousel, recoiling from the horrid vestibule, 
 where suddenly there formed a bubble of red, 
 that grew larger and trickled over the garden, 
 widening and assuming mass and shape. At 
 times across the red, like a diamond meeting 
 the sun, there ran a brilliant flash. At every 
 flash men stumbled in their flight and pitched 
 forward. Pell-mell into the Rue St. Honore* 
 they ran, routed, but full of anger and enthusiasm. 
 
 At this moment the sections of the Marais 
 swept in, gathered them up, and, burning with 
 vengeance at the sight of their wounds, rushed 
 on to the attack. Barabant, who had received a 
 flesh-wound in the hand, had barely time to 
 bind it up before he was swept again into the 
 Carrousel 
 
 84
 
 THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES 
 
 Then a vast hurrah burst from them, a shout 
 of relief and of battle. From the quais the guer- 
 rilla band of the Marseillais were rolling forward, 
 formidable, grim, and unleashed. Suddenly their 
 ranks parted and two tongues of fire lashed out; 
 in the solid bank of the Swiss two gaps appeared. 
 A frenzy possessed the assaulting mass. It 
 flung itself forward, without method, attacking 
 only with its anger. The Swiss reentered the 
 vestibule, issuing forth from time to time to de- 
 liver a volley. 
 
 Barabant, in the midst of the swirl, lost con- 
 sciousness of his acts, swayed by sudden, unrea- 
 soning passion. He fired fast and faster, caught 
 by the infection of his comrades, cursing, exhort- 
 ing wildly, laughing ; but his bullets, without ob- 
 jective, flattened themselves against the death- 
 dealing walls. At times he saw, through the 
 thick smoke, Javogues and his comrades drag- 
 ging a cannon forward toward the barracks. At 
 another moment there suddenly emerged out of 
 the melee the figure of the two bouquetieres. 
 
 Amid the swirl of smoke, Nicole appeared to 
 Barabant's excited senses as a goddess exhorting 
 them to battle. Her hair had tumbled, rioting, 
 her dress was torn open at the throat, her bare 
 arms were stained with powder and red with the 
 contact of the wounded ; and yet, as she loaded
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 a musket, or presented it to a volunteer, or 
 showed him the flashing walls, she laughed : 
 one of those laughs sublime with the indifference 
 to danger and the joy of heroism that inflame 
 the souls of those who hear it, and transform the 
 wavering with the frenzy of sacrifice. 
 
 On the contrary, Louison, among all the con- 
 fusion and the tumult, moved quietly, gathering 
 the bullets from the fallen and returning them to 
 her friend. Her face was calm, cold; her eyes 
 sought everything and showed nothing; and 
 though she moved incessantly on her quests, she 
 was apart from all a spectator. 
 
 Barabant, unable to join them, was carried 
 step by step toward the barracks. Once he 
 slipped in a pool of blood and went down, his 
 companion falling across him. He called to him 
 to rise, but the man was dead. A woman of the 
 halles freed him. 
 
 A series of explosions almost hurled him 
 back; the next moment the barracks, rent in 
 gaps, were swept with a sheet of flame. The 
 assailants, with a cry of triumph, hurled them- 
 selves into the palace, while the Swiss, forced 
 up the staircase, broke and fled, pursued and 
 shot down by the victors. 
 
 Through the apartments, shattering doors, 
 overturning furniture, howling along the empty 
 
 86
 
 THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES 
 
 corridors, the mob crashed in, as the first victori- 
 ous blast of a tempest, shrieking : 
 
 " A la mort ! A la mort ! " 
 
 One by one the flying Swiss were overtaken. 
 Packs of the invaders leaped upon them, burying 
 them from view, until, stabbed with a dozen 
 useless thrusts, their bodies were flung with ex- 
 ulting cries from the windows ; while as the 
 foremost stopped to enjoy their prey, the herd 
 swept to the front with hungry arms and the 
 ever-rising shout : 
 
 " Death to all ! Death to all ! " 
 
 Barabant, racing ahead to save the women, 
 soon found himself in front, running beside a 
 Marseillais, who cried to him with the voice of 
 Javogues : 
 
 " Keep with me, citoyen, keep with me ! 
 Leave the curs to the others ! " 
 
 A Swiss, hearing them at his back, fell on his 
 knees, shrieking for mercy. 
 
 " Leave him. Don't stop ! " Javogues panted. 
 Seizing Barabant's arm, he bore him down a side 
 gallery, shouting: 
 
 " There he is ! There he is ! " 
 
 At the end of the corridor Barabant beheld a 
 tall form disappearing at the head of a narrow 
 stairway. 
 
 Up this they rushed, into the single outlet, 
 
 87
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 a guard-room, only to find it empty. Javogues 
 threw himself furiously against the walls. 
 
 " I saw him, I saw him ; he is here some- 
 where ! " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Dossonville ! He was among the Swiss. I 
 saw him." He ran around the room, assailing it 
 with his huge fists. All at once he gave a cry, 
 and lifting the hatchet he bore, he sent a secret 
 door crashing in. 
 
 " He is here ! " 
 
 He hacked his way through and disappeared, 
 thundering down the passage. Barabant, only 
 half comprehending what had happened, re- 
 mained a moment in perplexity. But the sound 
 'of women's cries startled him again to activity. 
 He darted back into the current of the mob and 
 gained the women's apartments. At the foot of 
 the staircase an officer of the National Guard was 
 crying : 
 
 " We don't kill women ! " 
 
 " Spare the women ! " Barabant echoed. 
 
 A dozen others took up the cry. 
 
 " The Republic does not make war on 
 women ! " 
 
 The mob, balked of half its vengeance by the 
 firmness of a dozen officers, turned to desecration 
 and pillage. Troops of women, like furies,
 
 THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES 
 
 swarmed through the royal apartments, tearing 
 the beds to pieces, exulting, foul and crazed. 
 
 Barabant, sickening at the sight of unnamable 
 excesses, retraced his way down the strewn 
 galleries, heaped with overturned furniture, and 
 tapestries pulled from the wall, spattered with 
 blood and dirt. Heedless of the shouts above 
 him, he passed down the vestibule and over the 
 mountain of slain, suffocated by the stench and 
 the horror of wide-mouthed corpses. Now that 
 the crisis was over, his inflammable nature re- 
 coiled before the ugliness of the triumph. 
 
 While Louison and Genevieve had been drawn 
 into the frantic mob which swept the palace, 
 Nicole had remained outside, joining the hun- 
 dreds of women who visited the wounded or 
 sought, in agony, among the dead. She also, with 
 a new anxiety, sped among the slain with a sink- 
 ing dread before each upturned face. 
 
 All at once a familiar voice cried at her 
 side : 
 
 " Help ! help ! " 
 
 The cry came from beneath the body of a 
 Marseillais. With the aid of a fishwife she 
 pulled away the corpse, discovering the shaken, 
 limp form of the mountebank Cramoisin. 
 
 "Ah, mon Dieu," she cried, forgetting the 
 
 89
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 rancor of the woman in the patriot, "are you 
 wounded ? " 
 
 I I think so." 
 
 " Where <? " 
 
 " I don't know," he stammered, rising weakly 
 to his feet. " Is it ended ? " 
 
 " In thy stomach, I guess, my brave fellow ! " 
 the fishwife cried with rough scorn. " It seems 
 to have failed thee ! " 
 
 " You do not know him : he is a hero ! " 
 Nicole cried, ironically. "Wait a moment; we '11 
 find the wound ! " 
 
 With a laugh, the two sought to seize him ; 
 but Cramoisin, having recovered the use of his 
 legs, escaped in a ludicrous, snarling flight. 
 
 Suddenly Nicole beheld Barabant stumbling 
 forth from the vestibule. All coquetry forgot, 
 she sprang to him with the cry : 
 
 " Barabant, you are wounded ! " 
 
 He looked at his arm and saw it was covered 
 with blood. He passed his hand over his face ; 
 a scalp-wound trickled a red stream down his 
 forehead. He sat down while she hurriedly 
 washed the wounds and bandaged them. When 
 he essayed to rise, a dizziness made his step so 
 unsteady that Nicole drew his arm over her 
 shoulder, laughing at his feeble resistance. 
 
 " Aliens, this is the hour of the women. I '11 
 90
 
 THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES 
 
 bring you back. Don't be afraid to lean on 
 me ! " 
 
 She put her arm about his waist and impelled 
 him gently. He resisted no longer, and together 
 slowly they moved homeward over the stricken 
 field, amid the groaning and the silent. 
 
 He had a misty recollection of a phantasma- 
 goric passage, of rapidly moving figures hideous 
 with blood, of heads dancing on pikes above 
 him, of stretchers bearing inanimate things, of 
 rushing, floating women, of the sudden rumbling 
 of drums, of companies swinging past him, of in- 
 terminable streets, and of cliffs, mountains high, 
 that gave forth shrieks of triumph. Then in the 
 city, delirious with joy and sorrow, delirium, too, 
 rushed through his brain, his head fell heavily 
 upon Nicole's bare shoulder, and the will desert- 
 ing his limbs, he slipped from her arms heavily to 
 the ground.
 
 VI 
 
 THE HEART OF A WOMAN 
 
 WHEN at last Nicole had brought Barabant 
 to his room, she was very tired. Goursac, 
 whom she had summoned to help her, knelt by 
 the bed to examine the unconscious form. Every 
 now and then he turned a questioning look 
 upon the girl, as though to penetrate the indiffer- 
 ent attitude she maintained. 
 
 " Why don't you say something *? " Nicole 
 cried at last, her anxiety mastering her prudence. 
 " Is it so serious *? " 
 
 " A mere scratch," he grumbled ; " nothing 
 to make such a fuss over. If he had n't been as 
 weak as a woman " 
 
 Nicole, reassured, smiled at his ill-humor, know- 
 ing the mood of old. Goursac, furious at such 
 a reception of his sarcasm, turned on her angrily. 
 
 " You are like all the rest just as stupid. Be- 
 cause a young fellow gets a scratch and you 
 pilot him home, you call that a romance. You 
 know well enough what that leads to ! " 
 
 92
 
 THE HEART OF A WOMAN 
 
 " That may be true ; why should n't I have my 
 romance as well as another ? " 
 
 " You say that to plague me. You know that 
 is not so ! " he said impatiently. " Now give me 
 a bandage." 
 
 Stooping, Nicole seized her petticoat; but find- 
 ing it stained with traces of the combat, she 
 dropped it, and calling to him to wait, passed 
 through the window and across the gutter, sway- 
 ing lithely against the roof. In a moment she 
 returned with half of a sheet, which they 
 quickly tore into bandages. 
 
 "There; with a little rest a chance to re- 
 cover some blood the fever will abate ! " Pre- 
 paring a sling, Goursac jerked his head toward 
 the bed and demanded : " You are not going to 
 watch ? " 
 
 " Certainly I am ! " 
 
 "Then say at once," he cried point-blank, 
 " that you imagine you are in love ! " 
 
 "Goursac, my friend, you are ridiculous with 
 your ideas," Nicole answered impatiently. " You 
 know that the Citoyen Barabant arrived only 
 yesterday. We are good comrades. That 's 
 all!" 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes ! " 
 
 He wrinkled his lips in scornful unbelief, 
 raised his shoulders to his ears, and disappeared, 
 
 93
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 heavily, down the stairs, grumbling ironically, 
 " A man lies to deceive others ; a woman lies to 
 deceive herself! " 
 
 A moment later he called back : 
 
 " He, above there ! " 
 
 Nicole went to the landing. 
 
 " Is that you, the comrade *? " 
 
 " Yes, old cynic." 
 
 " If you need me, stamp twice on the floor." 
 
 " Agreed." 
 
 " Return now to your acquaintance." 
 
 Nicole, laughing, returned to the bedside. She 
 placed her hand on the heated forehead, frowned, 
 smoothed down the covers, arranged the dis- 
 carded clothes, and, after a moment's reflection, 
 departed over the roof to her room. 
 
 When she again appeared, she had removed 
 all traces of the battle. She pulled a chair near 
 the bed, loosened her hair, scattering it over her 
 shoulders, and began to comb it out, unraveling 
 the tangle with many grimaces and an oft-wrung 
 "Aie! aie!" 
 
 Occasionally she consulted a pocket-mirror, 
 then resumed the combing, humming to herself. 
 Barabant, his forehead enveloped in white, his 
 arm in a sling, lay with his head turned toward 
 her, one arm escaping bare above the covers. 
 She regarded approvingly the lithe muscles sug- 
 
 94
 
 THE HEART OF A WOMAN 
 
 gested under the soft skin, and, ceasing her 
 humming, pronounced : 
 
 " He is well made ! " 
 
 She leaned over the bed and opened the collar 
 of his shirt, revealing the full throat. 
 
 " Tiens, he 's as white as a woman." 
 
 She withdrew, and resumed her humming. 
 
 " But, Dieu merci, it 's not a woman." She 
 was taking up another strand when the stairs 
 cried out and Louison entered. Nicole frowned 
 and said curtly : 
 
 " Ah, it 's you, is it ? Who told you ? " 
 
 " La Mere Corniche. How goes it *? " she 
 ask;ed, indicating Barabant. 
 
 " Well." 
 
 " Are you coming to eat something *? " 
 
 " No, I 'm staying here." 
 
 " Is it so serious V " 
 
 " I don't know," she said, continuing her comb- 
 ing. " He pleases me." 
 
 Louison stood at the bed, looking down. " Not 
 bad ; he 's interesting. I noticed he had good 
 eyes." 
 
 Nicole stopped her combing, and a frown 
 gathered above the childish cheeks, as she cried 
 impetuously : 
 
 " Louison, no interference, do you hear *? 
 Or " 
 
 95
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Or what*?" The dark eyebrows arched 
 slightly, but the deep eyes remained cold. Ni- 
 cole did not answer. Louison returned to the 
 contemplation of the young man a moment 
 longer, then reluctantly rousing herself from her 
 reverie, turned on her heel. Her eye, falling on 
 Nicole, regarded her with a trace of amusement. 
 
 " Child ! " she said, standing in the doorway, 
 her face relaxing into a smile. " You have 
 chosen the best moment, my dear: you are 
 adorable ! " 
 
 Nicole listened, immovable, until the last foot- 
 step had grown silent. Then drawing her lips 
 together, she seized her knees with her hands, 
 and thus curbed, her eyes fixed themselves in 
 intense contemplation, while several times a 
 sudden anger knit her features before she shook 
 off the disagreeable emotions and sought the cool 
 of the window. 
 
 At a rustling from the bed she returned quickly. 
 Barabant had stirred slightly, but so as to throw 
 his weight upon the wounded arm. She slipped 
 her arm under him and moved him to a more 
 comfortable position. This maternal solicitude, 
 slight as it was, awakened a new emotion in her. 
 She arranged his hair, and seeking hungrily for 
 any further service, began to bathe the hot 
 eyelids. 
 
 96
 
 THE HEART OF A WOMAN 
 
 Barabant, under the gentle stroking, opened 
 his eyes. The confines appeared to him vast and 
 silent, the window far removed and small. The 
 long August twilight invaded the room with the 
 delicious promise of a quieter night, while from 
 without the distant, scattered sounds of rejoicing 
 reached his ears, through the corridors of insen- 
 sibility, like the tinkle of soft music. He sighed 
 contentedly and closed his eyes again. 
 
 Presently he said, turning, his head a trifle, but 
 without opening his eyes : 
 
 " Thou art really there, Nicole ? " 
 
 The accent and the caress pierced to the depths 
 the heart of the young girl, already stirred by 
 the maternal impulse of the woman. 
 
 " Really here, yes." 
 
 But almost immediately, as though regretting 
 the softness of the response, she added, in re- 
 monstrance : 
 
 " I have not given you permission to call me 
 thou ! " 
 
 *' It is my gratitude that that permits me." 
 
 " Ah, that is nice." She smiled with pleasure. 
 " That was very prettily said." 
 
 "Nicole?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Place your ear to my lips ; I cannot talk so 
 far." 
 
 7 97
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 The girl, with a smile, divining the ruse, 
 leaned over him. But Barabant making no 
 sound, she withdrew, scrutinizing anxiously the 
 hot face. 
 
 " Nicole." 
 
 " I am here." 
 
 Again she stooped, and this time so close that 
 her hair swept his forehead. 
 
 " You are there ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I love you," he said drowsily. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " Nicole started back, blushing and 
 amused; but looking down, she saw he had 
 dropped again into the wanderings of delirium. 
 
 " He does not know what he says," she said, 
 shaking her head. " Poor fellow ! " 
 
 She watched him in his helplessness, and all 
 at once she sighed ; but it was a sigh that rose 
 from the soul, and while it filled her heart, it 
 passed on and awakened in her a famine of ten- 
 derness, leaving a longing for tears. 
 
 Motionless and perplexed, she stood staring 
 down at the dim bed, her lips parted, her breast 
 filling with deep breaths, until at last she turned 
 reluctantly and sought the window, still un- 
 certain, nor comprehending what was germinat- 
 ing within her. 
 
 98
 
 THE HEART OF A WOMAN 
 
 The night was beginning; in the clear heavens 
 the high moon was strengthening in luster at 
 every moment. Across the stretch of window 
 lights the sounds of revelry and rejoicing per- 
 sisted faintly to her ears. The courtyard, deserted 
 by the men, was hushed with the silence of fatigue. 
 The laugh of a girl mounted at times, clear and 
 playful, mingling with the deeper, good-humored 
 protests of her companion. From a window a hag, 
 chin in hand, followed the lovers with due in- 
 terest. In another room a weary mother had 
 fallen asleep with her baby still feeding at her 
 breast. At other windows the women waited 
 patiently the return of the men, bending mechan- 
 ically over their knitting or crooning to the sleepy 
 children. There, under the enduring, tedious 
 night, Nicole stayed from minute to minute, 
 pressing her clenched hand tensely against her 
 lips ; while within her breast beat tumult and 
 a revolt against the slavery of women. She 
 returned to the bedside, rebelling against this 
 helpless man who drew her irresistibly from her 
 independence. 
 
 " Nicole " 
 
 It was Goursac calling, and she sprang furiously 
 to the landing, rebuking him with a low: "Silence! 
 he is asleep. What do you want ? " 
 
 " If you are tired, I '11 watch." 
 
 99
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "No, no!" she answered angrily. The cry 
 seemed to burst from her heart, threatened by 
 the very thought of such exile. 
 
 She knelt at the bed hungrily, waiting jeal- 
 ously for an opportunity to ease the restless body, 
 her revolt forgotten in the defense of her right to 
 soothe and minister. She slipped her arm under 
 his body, and drew his head upon her shoulder. 
 A sigh of contentment rewarded her. He grew 
 more quiet, breathing gentle breaths that dis- 
 turbed her hair and fanned her throat. In the 
 half-darkness she remained, with aching shoul- 
 der, holding him in her arms as though to de- 
 fend him from all who would separate them. 
 Several times, in an access of tenderness, she ap- 
 proached her lips to the unconscious forehead, 
 but each time instinctively drew back from the 
 surrender. She had a desire for tears, for laugh- 
 ter, for swift anger, that he should wake at last. 
 She would have kept him there forever, weak 
 and helpless, turning to her in trust and neces- 
 sity. At times, with a sudden alarm, she asked 
 herself what had happened, what could be these 
 new emotions, until at last, in the disturbance 
 and bewilderment of her soul, she saw the utter 
 loneliness of her life, and the cry went up from 
 her: 
 
 " Ah, mon Dieu, how unhappy I am ! " 
 100
 
 THE HEART OF A WOMAN 
 
 The full sun was beating into the room when Bara- 
 bant awoke. His forehead was cold, his senses 
 were sharp ; but his memory struggled in vain 
 to reconstruct the events of the afternoon. His 
 arm confined in a sling brought back his wound, 
 and Nicole, and the beginning of the tedious 
 journey; beyond that a black wall rose up and 
 shut out all vision. He turned over, calculating 
 his strength, when, his eye traveling over the 
 bedside, what was his stupefaction to behold 
 Nicole stretched upon the floor. Her hands were 
 pillowed under her cheek, where the long eye- 
 lashes showed sharply against the heightened 
 color. She slept easily, the lips slightly parted 
 as though smiling under happy dreams. Bara- 
 bant watched her breathlessly, jealously putting 
 off the awakening. But at this moment, as 
 though aware of the intensity of his gaze, the 
 girl opened her eyes, met the enraptured glance 
 of Barabant a moment only, then sprang to her 
 feet with a confusion which she sought to cover 
 with a laughing " Good morning ! " 
 
 "You have been here all night?" Barabant 
 said, in astonishment. 
 
 " Why not *? " Nicole noticed that he did not 
 address her as " thou." She rearranged her dress 
 and said with forced naturalness, " Do you think 
 that is much to do for a patriot who is wounded ? " 
 
 101
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Barabant, displeased with the answer, made no 
 reply. 
 
 " So you have decided to return to this world, 
 citoyen ? " 
 
 " Have I been delirious ? " 
 
 "Do you remember nothing ? " 
 
 " Nothing since since the Place de la Greve." 
 As this answer seemed to plunge Nicole into si- 
 lence, he asked, " How did you get me here ? " 
 
 " It was n't difficult," she began more gaily. 
 " I begged your way from block to block. Let 
 me see ; two water-carriers brought you half-way, 
 then a coachman a block on his route, then an- 
 other block on a litter, and finally a fishwife 
 helped me to the end." 
 
 " You carried me ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I am not a weakling; look at that." 
 She extended her arms, laughing. " They are 
 solid." 
 
 " And this ? " Barabant touched the sling. 
 
 " Oh, that was the Citoyen Goursac." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Your neighbor below, a brown man who 
 buries his chin like this, and scowls. That re- 
 minds me, it is time he should see you." 
 
 "Nicole!" 
 
 "Well, what?" 
 
 " Not now ; not just yet." 
 
 102
 
 THE HEART OF A WOMAN 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I wish to talk with you." 
 
 "The idea, as though I had nothing to do!" 
 She raised her foot and stamped twice. " I have 
 a desire to dine to-night, thank you." 
 
 " Where are you going *? " 
 
 "I 'm going to work." She picked up her 
 possessions and made for the window, while Bara- 
 bant cried excitedly: 
 
 " Nicole, I have not thanked you. Wait, let 
 me thank you." 
 
 " Why ? " She shrugged her shoulders. " I 'd 
 do that for any one." 
 
 Barabant raised himself on his elbow and 
 threatened, half angrily : " Nicole, if you go, I '11 
 follow you. I swear I '11 follow you. I will. 
 Look at me. I swear I will ! " 
 
 " What good will it do you *? I '11 be gone." 
 
 She shook her head, and, deaf to his entreaties, 
 disappeared; while Barabant, furious, fell back, 
 baffled and perplexed, little suspecting the 
 awakening that was taking place in Nicole. 
 
 103
 
 VII 
 
 THE FEAR OF HAPPINESS 
 
 WHEN Nicole reached her room, she found 
 Genevieve up and waiting. 
 
 " What are you doing, child *? " she cried 
 sharply, to cover her confusion. " Why are you 
 here ? " 
 
 "I I am waiting," Genevieve stammered, 
 " to see if I could do anything for you." 
 
 " There is nothing. I am going out now my- 
 self." 
 
 " What ! " cried the child, opening her eyes 
 wide. " You are not going to stay with the poor 
 fellow ? " 
 
 " There is no need. He is well." 
 
 "But I thought " She stopped, in confu- 
 sion, and then clumsily beat a retreat to the 
 door. " I '11 go now. I I only wanted to be 
 of service." 
 
 Nicole waited only long enough to be sure of 
 Genevieve's departure before descending in turn. 
 Her little room was too narrow ; it choked her. 
 104
 
 THE FEAR OF HAPPINESS 
 
 She had need of the open span of the sky to think 
 over the new emotions. 
 
 After an hour of unprofitable solitude, feeling 
 the need of a confidence which would lessen the 
 tension of her thoughts, she sought Goursac, be- 
 ginning timidly with the question : 
 
 " And the Citoyen Barabant, how is he ? " 
 
 " Why, he is still alive, clamoring for you like 
 a lost child for his mother." 
 
 " Goursac, my old friend," she said, taking his 
 arm, " be serious and gentle for once. I am un- 
 happy, and I want to talk with you." 
 
 "Ah, you love him," he said bitterly. 
 
 " Yes," she said slowly, as though the revela- 
 tion had just come, " I love him." 
 
 " Then why do you avoid him ? " 
 
 " I am afraid." 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 " Of loving him too much." 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 She tried to tell him a little of her emotions 
 at the bedside the wonder and the swift, acute 
 joy of ministering, the longing to tend and own. 
 Goursac, with a few questions, led her on. They 
 were now in the Tuileries, a little apart from the 
 quick throng, the swish of skirts, the laughter 
 and the hum. At last he said : 
 
 " My little Nicole, listen. Love is not some- 
 105
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 thing that comes to us from the outside : it is a 
 need within ourselves. We each have our func- 
 tions in this world and our needs. At the bottom, 
 what is strongest and best in woman is the ma- 
 ternal instinct. Listen to me ! You fall in love 
 when the need within you becomes too insistent. 
 Any one of a hundred men can appeal to you. 
 It is the moment and not the man. You knew 
 the maternal instinct for the first time when you 
 had in your keeping the Citoyen Barabant. You 
 think that it is he that has awakened you. Not 
 at all ; all these emotions have been in you, dor- 
 mant; it is they, not he, which enchant you. 
 Voyons you do not listen Nicole ! " 
 
 " That 's true," she said, rousing herself from 
 her reverie. Her eyes had been deep in the 
 bright to and fro of the promenaders, but she 
 saw only the room under the attic, and felt only 
 the hot head on her aching shoulder. 
 
 " After all, you are thinking only of him, and 
 I am a fool," he said. " Nothing that I can say 
 will make any difference. You will learn, as 
 others have learned, on the steps of experience. 
 Out of some curious twist within you, in some 
 strange way of reasoning you will decide for 
 yourself." 
 
 " I suppose so," she said drearily. " But I 
 wanted to talk it out; you are kind to me." 
 
 106
 
 THE FEAR OF HAPPINESS 
 
 " I," he said calmly " I adore you." 
 
 "Be serious." 
 
 " That is serious." 
 
 "Truly?" 
 
 " You know it." 
 
 " Why ? " she said meditatively, but half be- 
 lieving him. 
 
 " You are young," he answered, looking stead- 
 fastly at the charming profile. " And to see you 
 is good for the eyes. You are youth, and I have 
 not been old long enough to be reconciled to age. 
 But you don't believe me." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " No ; at least, you do not understand." 
 
 She did not return home until nightfall, and then 
 did not cross Barabant's window-sill, but con- 
 tented herself with an inquiry as to his condition; 
 nor could artifice and entreaty retain her longer. 
 The next day she did not appear at all. 
 
 Barabant, who saw in her absence nothing but 
 coquetry, was furious with her, with himself, 
 with all that kept him to his bed. The lagging, 
 still hours seemed doubly lagging and still with 
 the memory of the charm which the presence of 
 the girl had brought to the bare walls. Time 
 and time his eyes sought the empty floor where 
 he had surprised her asleep; and, conjuring up 
 
 107
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 that delightful picture, he accused himself in his 
 unreasoning irritation for not having simulated 
 insensibility throughout the day. 
 
 Why did she thus avoid him ? He remem- 
 bered their first encounter with Louison. Was 
 she jealous of her comrade, or was it simply cal- 
 culation ? That Nicole should think of playing 
 the coquette annoyed him exceedingly. He had 
 yielded to the fascination of this gipsy from the 
 moment she had taken his arm in the gardens 
 of the Palais Royal with the mischievous "Bara- 
 bant, you are a lucky fellow," with which she 
 had opened their comradeship. But this easy, 
 pleasurable interest had been fanned into a 
 passionate flame at the storming of the Tuileries, 
 where, by her fire, her tempestuous beauty, and 
 her careless laughter, she had impressed herself 
 imperishably on his imagination; and later the 
 thought of her bearing him home, of her nurs- 
 ing, and of her tenderness had invaded his 
 heart. 
 
 With the rapture of the first unfolding ro- 
 mance he abandoned himself utterly to the 
 thought of her, while retaining in his deeper con- 
 sciousness, as undebatable, that limit of common 
 sense which must separate the man of education 
 and promise from a daughter of the people. 
 
 The thought was a part of his intuitions rather 
 108
 
 THE FEAR OF HAPPINESS 
 
 than his consciousness ; for in his simplicity he 
 believed himself utterly unselfish in seeking her, 
 and was at a loss to understand why she should 
 have changed. 
 
 Neither the afternoon nor the evening brought 
 any sign of Nicole, nor during the next day could 
 he obtain more than one glimpse of her, as she 
 departed toward the flower-market. Recovered 
 from his exhaustion, he set forth on the following 
 morning, piqued and angry, resolved to find her 
 and force an explanation. 
 
 He searched the Palais Royal and the Tuileries 
 without success, and it was only after luncheon 
 that, passing down the left bank of the Seine, 
 he found her near the Conciergerie. 
 
 She was a little apart from the throng, strolling 
 meditatively by the river, into whose swift flood 
 her look was plunged. The half-depleted basket, 
 overrun with flowers, dangled from her arm, 
 while in her fingers she was turning a cockade 
 without purpose. Against the hot August foliage 
 and the buildings weltering under the sun there 
 was something about her inexpressibly cool and 
 refreshing to the eye. 
 
 The meditative abandon of her pose suggested 
 all at once to Barabant a reason for her absence, 
 and with this pleasing thought his anger yielded 
 to the zest of the eager and confident lover. 
 
 109
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 So serious was her reverie that she was unaware 
 of his approach until his greeting startled her. 
 
 "Am I so terrible, Nicole," Barabant asked, 
 smiling at her confusion, " that you find it ne- 
 cessary to avoid me ? " 
 
 She rallied quickly, and simulating indecision, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Why, it is the Citoyen Barabant ! " 
 
 Barabant brought his brows together and said, 
 with a return of his exasperation: "Nicole, why 
 do you avoid me *? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " I don't avoid you ; I do not seek you out." 
 
 " Nicole, you are playing with me." 
 
 She again shook her head. 
 
 Barabant, taking her wrist, repeated the asser- 
 tion. 
 
 " Barabant, I do not play with you," Nicole 
 answered earnestly. 
 
 " Then why have you avoided me ? " 
 
 He waited for her answer, but she said firmly: 
 
 " I cannot tell you." 
 
 "Assuredly she is beginning to love me," 
 thought Barabant, and, well content, did not 
 press the question. They strayed a little from 
 the Conciergerie, and leaning over the bank, 
 contemplated the river scenes below, following 
 the fortunes of the languid fishermen, the antics 
 
 no
 
 THE FEAR OF HAPPINESS 
 
 of a kitten that romped over the flat decks 
 herded together, and the glistening backs of 
 boys splashing near the shore. 
 
 " Of whom were you thinking so seriously 
 before I came ? " Barabant asked, secure in his 
 new confidence. He sought her face, hoping to 
 surprise some trace of confusion. 
 
 " I was wondering how it would seem to have 
 a mother," Nicole answered. She crumbled a 
 flower and scattered the petals on the wafting 
 stir of the air before she turned. " But then we 
 might not agree. Perhaps I am lucky. What 
 do you think ? " 
 
 " Such reverie for a mother *? " 
 
 "Oh, there are moments when one has such 
 moods." 
 
 " I had hoped you were thinking of me." 
 
 " Really ? " She lifted her eyebrows slightly. 
 "And why?" 
 
 Her composure routed his agreeable theories 
 and plunged him into perplexities. So, aban- 
 doning his confident attitude, he exclaimed vehe- 
 mently : 
 
 " Nicole, what has happened ? What is there 
 a misunderstanding, or what ? Surely you will 
 not tell me that it is natural for you to shun me 
 so persistently. I will be answered ! " 
 
 " I don't ; I don't. I will not have you saying 
 ill
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 that ! " She seized the opportunity of a passing 
 party of muscadins the dandies of the day to 
 offer her cockades. On her return, Barabant said 
 more quietly : 
 
 " Listen to me, Nicole. You misunderstand 
 me; I do not upbraid you. I want to thank 
 you. I owe you much, and you give me no 
 opportunity to tell you of my gratitude. That 
 is what vexes me. Voyons, Nicole, we had be- 
 gun so well ! " He leaned closer and said mis- 
 chievously : " Oh, if I had known you would 
 leave, I would have remained unconscious all 
 the day. I 've cursed myself ever since." 
 
 He laughed, and growing bolder as he per- 
 ceived she listened without displeasure, he poured 
 into her ear, in one breath daring, in another shy, 
 a thousand and one of those vague, delightful 
 half-confidences which in the imagination of the 
 lover awaken as naturally as the flowers open to 
 the sun. 
 
 Nicole could not but listen. She assembled a 
 bouquet and pressed her face against it to screen 
 her pleasure from his avid scrutiny. From time 
 to time she turned, and looking him full in the 
 face, sought to read there the true value of his 
 words. But almost immediately she would turn 
 with a wistful smile of unbelief At length she 
 checked him, saying, with reluctant gentleness : 
 
 112
 
 THE FEAR OF HAPPINESS 
 
 " Enough, Barabant. Your imagination runs 
 away with you. You do not know your own 
 feelings." 
 
 Barabant, borne on by the ardor of his emo- 
 tions, retorted point-blank : 
 
 " And you, do you know yours ? " 
 
 At this sudden challenge, Nicole had a mo- 
 ment of confusion, during which she answered at 
 random : 
 
 " I ? " But immediately regaining her compo- 
 sure, she added, " Perfectly." 
 
 "You evade my question." 
 
 " If you begin like that, I warn you I will not 
 listen. Besides, I am neglecting my cockades." 
 
 She unslung her basket and again accosted 
 the crowd. Barabant, after the first outburst of 
 expostulation, waited moodily, leaning against a 
 tree, his gaze lost in the current. The moment 
 Nicole was assured of his abstraction, she hesi- 
 tated no longer, but slipping through the throng, 
 quickly gained her liberty among distant streets. 
 
 She knew that the evasion was unwise, expos- 
 ing her to his judgment either as a coquette or as 
 fearing to betray her true feelings opinions 
 which she did not wish him to entertain. She 
 had fled, but not by calculation. She had 
 again avoided him, and yet she scarcely under-
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 stood why. New emotions had awakened in 
 her a commotion that disturbed her whole theory 
 of life. 
 
 Before, with happy tolerance, she had passed 
 along the weary road of poverty, shrugging 
 her shoulders at hunger, meeting adversity with 
 a smile, expecting two or three attachments, not 
 deep; delightful while lasting, sharp and sadden- 
 ing when broken ; but, sad or sweet, not to be re- 
 garded too seriously, the lot of life. 
 
 She had, therefore, welcomed the coming of 
 Barabant with the pleasurable anticipation of a 
 delightful comradeship. That she could retain 
 him, or, in all probability, would care to retain 
 him, beyond a certain term never occurred to 
 her. As to the question of marriage, it did not 
 for a moment enter her head. For her it did 
 not exist. 
 
 A sigh drawn from her soul as she stood by 
 his bed had dissipated all that, and discovered to 
 her immense longings, womanly, motherly neces- 
 sities which she had never realized before and 
 which she imperfectly comprehended now. She 
 perceived him no longer as a comrade, but as 
 the new need of her awakened nature. 
 
 She had imagined love as impassioned, head- 
 long, and impetuous, and, in the place of this 
 ideal, she felt only the confident, weak appeal 
 
 114
 
 THE FEAR OF HAPPINESS 
 
 of Barabant to her ministering tenderness. The 
 sensation was acute, poignant, disturbing; the 
 happiness that had possessed her then was too 
 big, too strange; it frightened her. She feared 
 such a transforming, all-consuming love. To give 
 herself utterly thus she felt, in her intuitions, 
 would mean only disaster. So she fled from 
 herself, trying to stifle that immense emotion to 
 which she had no right, so fraught with peril. 
 So when, through all the rumble of sound and 
 the ceaseless rabble of the boulevards, there re- 
 turned the silent room under the eaves, and the 
 feverish smile that answered to her soothing 
 touch, she incessantly cried to herself: 
 
 " No, no. I would love him too much. The 
 end would crush me." 
 
 Little vagrant of the people, she knew well 
 what that end inevitably must be.
 
 VIII 
 
 THE MOTHER OF LOUISON 
 
 BARABANT, baffled and incensed at Ni- 
 cole's desertion, vowed that he would be 
 through with such a coquette. Where pride 
 begins there is a limit to gratitude, and that limit 
 she had overstepped. He washed his hands of 
 her. So, having decided irrevocably decided 
 that Nicole had removed herself from any in- 
 terest of his, and that it was a matter of indiffer- 
 ence to him whether or not he saw her again, 
 he determined to bring her to reason by paying 
 attention to Louison. 
 
 Accordingly he contrived to meet her in the 
 passageway the morning after his unceremonious 
 desertion by Nicole. 
 
 "Salutations, Citoyen Barabant," Louison 
 cried. "No luck this morning. Nicole has 
 already left." 
 
 " Nicole is out of the question," he retorted. 
 
 " What ! " Louison opened her eyes in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 116
 
 THE MOTHER OF LOUISON 
 
 " I say, we have nothing to do with Nicole," 
 he replied coolly. " Where are you bound *? " 
 
 " To the flower-market." 
 
 " I understand the route is dangerous at this 
 time of day." 
 
 " Exceedingly dangerous." 
 
 " Then I had better accompany you." 
 
 " I think you had." 
 
 With this light introduction, they set out 
 through the stirring city, greeted by the slam- 
 ming of opening shutters, and escaping the 
 clouds of dust that rose from the brooms of 
 concierges. Louison was the first to speak. 
 
 " Well, comrade, and how goes it with you ? " 
 
 Barabant affected ignorance. 
 
 "What, is it not serious with you and Ni- 
 cole <? " 
 
 " Serious is a big word," he answered, resolved 
 not to yield an inch. 
 
 " I see, a little interest, but not not the grand 
 passion, violent and sacred ! " She added, with 
 a false sigh, " Poor Nicole, it is serious with 
 her." 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 "You imagine it." 
 
 " I know it by one sign : she is jealous. There 
 you are ! " She laughed. " She is always jealous 
 
 117
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 of me when it 's serious. This time, though, there 
 is no cause. I shall not interfere." She placed 
 a flower to her lips and shot a quick glance up 
 at him. " Though I met you the first." 
 
 " Do I count for nothing or my prefer- 
 ence?" 
 
 " Nini ! " She shook one finger slowly back 
 and forth. " Let us talk of other things. I might 
 unconsciously break my promise." 
 
 The air grew fragrant as they entered a square 
 blotted out with tents. Masses of red and pink, 
 of white and yellow, met the eye through sudden 
 lanes in the petticoat crowd. 
 
 " Leave me now to my bargaining," she said. 
 Stopping in the perfumed alley at a tent, where 
 the swinging sign-board bore the name la Mere 
 Boboche, she cried tartly : " Good morning, 
 citoyenne. The flowers are very stale this 
 morning." 
 
 A thin, bent woman turned her one good eye, 
 and recognizing a daily opponent, rose, drawing 
 in her lips and nodding. 
 
 " Eh, they are dear this morning, but you have 
 brought your muscadin. You can pay well to- 
 day after the way you cheated me yesterday." 
 
 " He is my brother," Louison said coldly, turn- 
 ing over the flowers. 
 
 "Oui da!" La Mere Boboche dropped an 
 118
 
 THE MOTHER OF LOUISON 
 
 anxious glance at her counter. " Is n't he hand- 
 some, though, her muscadin V What arms, what 
 a chest, eh? Solid that !" 
 
 Louison, observing that Barabant was uneasy 
 under this chaffing, was about to interpose when 
 a shrill voice rose in taunt from the opposite 
 stall. 
 
 " What a monster of immorality ! Aliens, la 
 mere, it 's time you forgot such things." 
 
 Instantly the two enemies let loose at each 
 other floods of vituperation. 
 
 " Listen to the evil tongue ! " 
 
 " Hark to the old hen, what a cackle ! " 
 
 " Corrupter of youth ! " 
 
 " Cheat ! " 
 
 " Impostor ! " 
 
 Louison, profiting by the outcry, selected her 
 flowers and escaped the fray. 
 
 "Now for some white ones and I am done. 
 Aie, what a jam ! " 
 
 She took his arm, and as they entered the press 
 of -the main alley, once or twice was swept up 
 against him with great force. 
 
 " Pardon ; a'ie, aie, pardon ! What a scramble 
 this morning!" She was swung face to face with 
 her protector, her eyes matching his in height. 
 They freed themselves and reached another 
 shop. 
 
 119
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Thanks, citoyen ; your arm is strong." 
 
 Louison, giving a look of admiration at his 
 limbs, began her bargaining. Barabant, though 
 aware of the artifices, resisted weakly the di- 
 rect attack. With a new interest he studied 
 the liberty-cap that flamed in the black, sinewy 
 wave of her hair. She was dressed in a yellow 
 bodice, falling to a short skirt of light-blue 
 fustian. The ankles thus revealed were shapely, 
 and attracted the eye with their bright bit of red 
 stocking. He began to ask himself if she were 
 not really beautiful, as he watched the figure, 
 unusually erect, every motion of which was made 
 with grace and ease. 
 
 Louison, observing Barabant's study, from time 
 to time turned her head to send him a smile over 
 her shoulder. Occasionally she frowned and, as 
 though to discourage his examination, shook her 
 head. 
 
 Barabant forgot the curious impression she first 
 had made upon him. He saw only a face with 
 great capabilities of expression : mobile, flexible, 
 obeying the capricious thought. The eyes more 
 than ever arrested his attention and baffled it. 
 They opened to him a way ; but when he looked 
 it was as though penetrating into a vast darkness. 
 
 " Why do you look at me so ? " 
 
 Barabant recovered to find Louison at his el- 
 
 120
 
 THE MOTHER OF LOUISON 
 
 bow, her purchase made, regarding him with 
 amusement. 
 
 " You mystify me," he said frankly. " There is 
 something about you I cannot place. What is 
 it?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Don't. Besides Nicole." 
 
 " You have been very solicitous to leave me 
 to Nicole," he said, with a smile. " You choose 
 excellent means to gain your end." 
 
 He had expected to catch her confused and 
 blushing. Instead, she discovered a row of white 
 teeth, and nodding her head, said : 
 
 "Eh, you are not so slow after all." Before 
 he could reply, she exclaimed, " Hello, there 's 
 mama ! " 
 
 She indicated a wig-maker's, where, on the door- 
 step, a woman of about thirty-five or -six was 
 sitting, carding a wig. Despite the difference of 
 ages, Barabant noticed a similarity in the color 
 of the hair and in the span of the eyebrows. 
 
 " Good morning, mother ! " 
 
 The woman raised her head, but as her glance 
 reached them started back, as though from a feel- 
 ing of repulsion, and immediately dropped her 
 head. 
 
 " Thank you, I am well," Louison cried mock- 
 ingly. "Good day, mother, we can't stop." 
 
 121
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 She turned in perfect good humor to Barabant. 
 " There J s a model mother for you ; no trouble 
 at all ! " 
 
 " And your father ? " Barabant inquired, as 
 much struck at her philosophic attitude as at the 
 maternal indifference. 
 
 " There 's the trouble, voila." She held her 
 thumb-nail against her teeth and clicked it. " She 
 has never been willing to tell me his name." 
 She shrugged her shoulders. " That 's stupid, 
 isn't it? Why not?" 
 
 Barabant asked her curiously how long they 
 had been parted. 
 
 "Since I was five years old. I only remem- 
 ber some dreadful scene at home, I don't know 
 what, and all at once her manner changed to 
 me. The next day she drove me out." 
 
 " At five ? " 
 
 "Nothing extraordinary in that," Louison an- 
 swered, surprised at his astonishment. "Ah, you 
 do not know our Paris. She married soon after; 
 perhaps it was for that, but I think not." She 
 was silent a moment. " I think she discovered 
 something about my father: that he was an abbe 
 or an aristocrat." 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 " I begged. I found a corner in the cellar at 
 la Mere Corniche's. You have never been in 
 
 122
 
 THE MOTHER OF LOUISON 
 
 that pleasant abode ? " She made a wry face. 
 " There are rats ; you don't get much sleep. 
 Then it smells bad and it is black; though of 
 course at night that makes no difference. I did 
 not stay there long." 
 
 "What did you do?" 
 
 " Oh, I passed from corner to corner." She 
 stopped in the square and seated herself on a 
 bench. She emptied her flowers and held them 
 out to Barabant. " Hold these while I make 
 my cockades. I passed from family to family. I 
 was well treated. They gave me a crust or a 
 bone, and let me crawl into a corner at night. 
 Of course I worked. It was interesting ! " She 
 wove the flowers deftly into cockades, taking 
 them from his lap, their hands brushing each 
 other from time to time. "Does that amuse 
 you ? Good. Then I '11 continue. At ten I 
 began to sell flowers, and then they treated me 
 better I shared meals." 
 
 " What a life ! It must have been rough at 
 times ? " Barabant asked the question not with- 
 out a mixture of curiosity in his pity. 
 
 "Yes, at first." She returned thoughtfully 
 over her history. " But I stabbed a fellow who 
 was annoying me. He lived, but the result was 
 just as good. They are all afraid of my temper, 
 and there is no protection like that." She rose, 
 
 123
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 having finished the cockades, and faced him 
 with a smile in which struggled a temptation. 
 " You know I have a temper ; oh, but a temper 
 a temper to make your hair stand on end ! " 
 
 " I can believe it," Barabant said, studying her. 
 
 " Would you like to see ? " she asked mis- 
 chievously. 
 
 Without waiting a reply, she halted, caught 
 her breath a little, and drew back. The mouth 
 dropped open, the eyes fixed themselves. Then 
 by the sheer power of her will she banished 
 the blood from her face. The lips closed in 
 a thin, cruel line, the nostrils dilated, while in 
 the eyes glowed such malignant, tigerish hatred 
 that Barabant, with an oath, sprang backward, 
 placing the bench between them. 
 
 Immediately a low laugh rang out. The 
 features changed from the hideousness of wrath 
 to a look of amusement, and Louison, again 
 erect, sidled up to him with a smile lurking in 
 the corners of her lips. 
 
 "Did I frighten you? I like to do that." 
 Her face had regained its composure, but it was 
 a cold constraint ; she was still pale from the force 
 of the emotion. " It is so amusing to frighten 
 people. You see, I am able to protect myself." 
 
 ** That I can believe," Barabant cried, finding 
 his voice. " It is unpleasant ! " 
 
 124
 
 THE MOTHER OF LOUISON 
 
 " Don't be frightened ; I reserve that for my 
 enemies. I know how to please, also." 
 
 She laughed, amused at his horror. 
 
 " And now I must get to selling my cock- 
 ades. You can return with me only as far as 
 the Seine. A companion such as you, you 
 understand, would never do; it would not be 
 professional." 
 
 Arranging her cockades in the basket, which 
 she transferred to her arm, she retraced her steps. 
 
 " Ah, there 's mama again," she exclaimed, as 
 they neared the wig-maker's. " Let 's see if she '11 
 greet us more cordially." 
 
 Suddenly she stopped and, with a gleam of 
 mischief, caught his arm. 
 
 " I have an idea. Follow me. I '11 make her 
 speak." 
 
 They approached the woman on the step, who, 
 after the first quick glance, abased her head 
 without further recognition. 
 
 "Good morning, mother." 
 
 The woman continued silently to card the 
 wig. 
 
 " Eh, Mother Baudrier ! It is I, your daughter 
 Louison. You won't answer"? Good-by, 
 then." Louison turned as though to leave, call- 
 ing back : " By the way, I 've discovered my 
 father."
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 The woman, with a cry, staggered to her feet, 
 and, choking for utterance, fell back against the 
 house ; while in her eyes was the wild light of 
 abject terror. Then perceiving by Louison's 
 mocking laugh that it was a trick, without a 
 word she gained the doorway and tottered into 
 the house. 
 
 Louison, amazed and perplexed, remained 
 fastened to the ground. 
 
 " Bon Dieu," she said at last, thoughtfully, 
 " extraordinary ! Who could he have been ? " 
 
 Barabant echoed the question, while the mem- 
 ory of the scene sank into his mind, and with it 
 a silent resolve to investigate the mystery further.
 
 IX 
 
 THE TURN OF JAVOGUES 
 
 BARABANT spent the remainder of the 
 morning in rambling through the mar- 
 kets, skirting the shores of the river, seeking 
 everywhere the thoughts of the people, listening 
 to their ambitions, their desires, and their hopes. 
 Toward noon he drifted among a throng of masons 
 who, dispersing languidly over blocks of stone, 
 were crowding into the nearest cafe. 
 
 " Salutations, citoyens ! " he cried to them, ac- 
 cording to the custom of free greetings that ob- 
 tained. At the sight of the sling he still wore 
 they hailed him warmly, asking: 
 
 "You got that at the Tuileries, citoyen?" 
 
 " Why, I know him," one suddenly exclaimed ; 
 and pushing to the front, he cried, " You are the 
 Citoyen Barabant who spoke so well in the Place 
 de la Greve." He turned to his comrades: 
 "Aye, he can talk, too." 
 
 "Bring him in!" 
 
 "Citoyen, eat with us." 
 127
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Yes, join us, comrade," echoed a swarthy Pic- 
 ard, throwing his arms about Barabant, who, 
 nothing loath, answered: 
 
 "Gladly, citoyens." 
 
 They took possession of a corner in the cafe, 
 calling the other occupants two coal-carriers 
 and a seller of lemonade. 
 
 While the soup was devoured one or another 
 would turn to Barabant with a wink or a laugh, 
 crying: 
 
 "It was glorious, eh, the taking of the Tui- 
 leries?" 
 
 "We fought well the Sans-Culottes." 
 
 "The fat Louis was trembling that day!" 
 
 As they fell to eating their long loaves of 
 bread, spread with cheese and washed down with 
 an execrable mixture of wine and water, groups 
 of two or three sauntered in, to smoke and dis- 
 cuss, among whom Barabant recognized the 
 Marseillais who had borne him in the square. 
 Javogues, greeted uproariously, in turn perceived 
 Barabant. 
 
 "Why, it is my little orator!" he cried, and 
 was advancing with open arms to infold him in a 
 bear-like hug, when his eyes encountered the sling. 
 " Mordieu," he exclaimed, " you were wounded ! " 
 
 " Slightly." 
 
 Contenting himself with a wring of the hand, 
 128
 
 THE TURN OF JAVOGUES 
 
 Javogues settled his body into a seat opposite, 
 exclaiming : " There is a patriot, citoyens ; I '11 
 vouch for him ! " 
 
 A chorus of grunts and a bobbing of heads 
 showed Barabant the value of such an indorse- 
 ment. Across the table his companions cried to 
 him: 
 
 " He 's a terrible fellow, eh, the Citoyen Ja- 
 vogues *? No hesitation about him." 
 " That 's the kind of men we want ! " 
 They finished eating, and sprawled back to 
 discuss. 
 
 " What I want to know is, where are we go- 
 ing ? " Javogues demanded. 
 
 " We are going nowhere ; we are rooted." 
 "The Convention does nothing but discuss." 
 " What 's the use of overturning the throne, 
 after all?" 
 
 " We must have the Republic ! " 
 " What say you, Citoyen Barabant ? " 
 " I say no step backward ! " A lull gave him 
 the attention of the room. " We must advance 
 or perish. If we lack in daring, we deserve to 
 perish. The Revolution, comrades, as I see it, 
 is not against an unworthy king or any king : it 
 is to reconstruct society. Citoyens, there is but 
 one true end : the Nation must be one family. 
 No more classes, no more titles, no more king, 
 9 129
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 no more first estate, no more third estate. We 
 are brothers, brothers all in one family 
 France ! " 
 
 " There 's the word ! " Javogues cried, amid 
 the salvo of glasses and bravos that acclaimed 
 the speaker. " And out with all lying, plotting 
 priests ! " 
 
 A chorus approved. 
 
 "Right!" 
 
 " That 's it ! " 
 
 " Now you 're talking ! " 
 
 " Curse the blackcoats ! " 
 
 " What has kept us down all these centuries *? 
 What? Tell me that! The Church! What 
 has been the ally of the aristocrats *? The Church ! 
 What taught us to be content with our lot, with 
 fetters, with a crust, with the yoke of taxation *? 
 The Church!" 
 
 " Aye, the Church ! " 
 
 " Down with it ! " 
 
 " Down with the lie ! " 
 
 "Bah, the Church! the Church! I too was 
 fool enough to believe in it." Javogues swept 
 his huge fist over their heads, and crashing it upon 
 the table, shouted, "There is no God ! " 
 
 A few mumbled approval, more laughed, while 
 one voice cried : 
 
 " There he is again, with his God ! " 
 130
 
 THE TURN OF JAVOGUES 
 
 " I tell you, it is with such superstitions that 
 they enslave us ! " Javogues drew back, defiant 
 and aroused, and assembling his anger, he thun- 
 dered again, as though to bear down all opposi- 
 tion, " There is no God ! " 
 
 The laughter increased, while another scoffer 
 cried : 
 
 "Well, if there is, he does us little good." 
 To this all agreed. Barabant, smiling, added: 
 " Citoyen, one thing at a time. Let us depose 
 Capet first." 
 
 They arose amid laughter, Javogues's protests 
 lost in the confusion. Barabant, impelled to en- 
 thusiasm by the ardor of these laborers, opened 
 his arms and exclaimed : 
 
 " Comrades, when Frenchmen are united, we 
 fear no foreigner. What nation has ever frater- 
 nized as we ? We all are brothers, all working 
 for the great end. When we grumble at delays, 
 let us not forget what the Revolution has made 
 us!" 
 
 Then the voice of Javogues arose : 
 " Brothers, before we separate, let us embrace ! " 
 With one impulse, such as countless times 
 animated the populace in these days of exaltation, 
 the group fell into one another's arms. Javogues, 
 extending his hands covered with soot, exclaimed: 
 " Glorious emblems ! "
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Barabant echoed the cry, but as they moved 
 off he surreptitiously brushed away the stains, 
 asking, to distract his companion's attention : 
 
 "And Dossonville, did you get him? " 
 
 " He escaped for the time." 
 
 " Are you sure it was he *? Did you see him 
 again ? " 
 
 " What difference does it make whether I saw 
 him or not ? " Javogues answered impatiently. 
 " I know he was there." 
 
 " How *? " Barabant asked, in astonishment. 
 
 " By the look in his eyes the day I met him. 
 That is all I need to tell an aristocrat ! " 
 
 Barabant, seeing the impossibility of swaying 
 the fanatic by reason, kept silent until they parted. 
 
 In the Rue Maugout, la Mere Corniche cried to 
 him from her tenebrous sentry-box : 
 
 "One moment, citoyen." The window-hinges 
 spoke and a shadowy head appeared. " There 's 
 a tall fellow above in your room." 
 
 " In the uniform of the National Guard *? " 
 
 " That 's it." 
 
 Barabant, who had left Javogues too recently 
 to derive any pleasure from a visit of Dosson- 
 ville, was hastening away when again the queru- 
 lous voice halted him. 
 
 " Not so fast, citoyen." 
 
 " Well, what ? I 'm in a hurry."
 
 THE TURN OF JAVOGUES 
 
 " You 've seen the Citoyen Marat *? " 
 
 "Marat?" 
 
 " What ! you 've not presented your letter ? " 
 
 " Oh, my letter ! '? Barabant cried, and hastily 
 covering his mistake, said : " But that was days 
 ago." 
 
 " You did n't forget to speak of me ? " 
 
 " Come, now, la Mere Corniche, I 'm not an 
 ingrate ! " 
 
 " And what did he say ? " 
 
 " It brought tears to his eyes." 
 
 "Truly?" 
 
 " Pardi ! The Citoyen Marat has a heart." 
 
 Barabant, on the staircase, congratulated him- 
 self on his escape from a bad position, little 
 realizing the danger of the present one, and ex- 
 cusing the subterfuge on the light pretext of 
 giving pleasure to the old woman. He hurriedly 
 determined to say nothing to Dossonville of his 
 danger, preferring first to question him. 
 
 Dossonville, the greetings over, announced his 
 purpose with the question: 
 
 "Well, young pamphleteer, what have you 
 ready?" 
 
 Barabant replied by tapping his arm. 
 
 " I see, at the Tuileries ? " 
 
 " You were there, of course ? " 
 
 " What Frenchman was n't ? "
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Barabant, noticing the equivocation, pressed 
 him. 
 
 " With what section, citoyen ? " 
 
 " I was with no section." 
 
 "Within or without the Tuileries?" 
 
 Dossonville rose up. 
 
 " Again ! I thought you were convinced at 
 Santerre's." 
 
 " You do not answer my question," Barabant 
 insisted. 
 
 " Why do you ask it ? " 
 
 " Because, Citoyen Dossonville, there are those 
 who claim to have seen you among the de- 
 fenders." 
 
 " What 's that ? Who says that ? " At once 
 Dossonville was all alertness. 
 
 Barabant repeated, adding: " If it is so, citoyen, 
 no matter for what reasons you were present, you 
 cannot ignore the danger you run if recognized." 
 
 As though to confirm the warning, the stairway 
 suddenly gave out the hurried fall of feet, the 
 door opened, and Nicole appeared, breathless and 
 frightened. 
 
 "Citoyen Dossonville," she cried, "I come to 
 warn you ! Javogues is below ! " 
 
 Dossonville threw a glance to the window, his 
 hand going to his pistol. Then correcting him- 
 self, he said :
 
 THE TURN OF JAVOGUES 
 
 " So this is your trap, is it ? " 
 
 " I am not a spy," Barabant disclaimed in- 
 dignantly. " You have an escape by the roof; 
 the gutter is solid ; once opposite " 
 
 " Yes, yes," Nicole added ; " pass into my 
 room, through the hall, and out ! " 
 
 "You mistake me," Dossonville interrupted. 
 " I have nothing to fear. Go to the landing. 
 They may stop on the way." 
 
 Barabant obeyed. Dossonville, turning his 
 back, snatched a paper from his redingote, rolled 
 it into a ball, and tossed it into the gutter. 
 
 He looked a moment at the astonished girl, 
 then shrugging his shoulders, he committed him- 
 self to her mercy with a wave of his hand. 
 Already from below came the rush of feet. 
 With a sudden inspiration, Dossonville divested 
 himself of his pistols and sword, laying them 
 conspicuously on the bed. Then retreating as 
 far away as the room permitted, he seated him- 
 self and folded his arms, facing the horrified girl 
 with a calm smile, as though to say : 
 
 " Dispose of my life ! " 
 
 Nicole, struggling between her patriotism and 
 her womanly instincts, heard Barabant calling from 
 the landing: 
 
 "Who is there ? " 
 
 " Javogues." 
 
 135
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " What do you seek ? " 
 
 The next moment half a dozen Marseillais 
 stormed into the room, while Javogues, at the 
 head, shouted: 
 
 " When he moves to escape, shoot him down ! " 
 
 But on the instant Dossonville, erect and hold- 
 ing out his hands, cried : 
 
 " I am unarmed ; my weapons are on the bed. 
 I submit. There is no need of murder. What 
 is the accusation ? " 
 
 Javogues, baffled at the turn, still greedily 
 covered the prisoner with his pistol, but his face 
 showed indecision and the longing for a pretext. 
 
 " Lower your pistol," Dossonville continued 
 calmly. " Citoyen Barabant, I call you to wit- 
 ness that I surrendered willingly and am now 
 under the protection of the Nation. On what 
 charges do you, without warrants, arrest an officer 
 of the National Guard ? " 
 
 Javogues unwillingly dropped his weapon. 
 But immediately, his anger rising at being so 
 thwarted, he advanced and, as though to crush 
 his enemy, thundered out : 
 
 " Dog of an aristocrat ! I '11 tell you. I ar- 
 rest you for firing on the Nation from the Tui- 
 leries." 
 
 " What, Citoyen Javogues ! " Barabant cried 
 indignantly. " If you have taken this step on 
 
 136
 
 THE TURN OF JA VOGUES 
 
 the evidence you gave me, I declare it an out- 
 rage ! " 
 
 One of the band spoke up : 
 
 " I saw him, too, I, with my own eyes, 
 firing on us with the Swiss." 
 
 " Citoyen, you are mistaken," Dossonville re- 
 plied. Then realizing the danger he ran, he 
 continued rapidly, " At what hour ? " 
 
 " Nine o'clock." 
 
 " At nine you have said ! " Dossonville cried 
 triumphantly, extending his arms. "Citoyens, 
 I demand to be taken at once to prison. The 
 moment such an accusation is made I insist 
 upon my right to vindicate myself. At nine 
 o'clock I was in the presence of the Citoyen 
 Marat. Take me to the Abbaye and let the 
 Friend of the People answer for me. Citoyen 
 Barabant, I shall need you too." 
 
 The effect of that powerful name was tremen- 
 dous ; even Javogues was stunned at the sudden 
 counter, and sullenly gave the order to descend. 
 Even Nicole, tortured by the crisis, remained 
 still in doubt. She made a step forward as 
 though to reveal what she had seen, but meeting 
 the eye of the prisoner, she halted before its elo- 
 quence, and, bowing her head, allowed them to 
 pass. Dossonville signaled Barabant to place 
 himself behind him, and thus they plunged 
 
 137
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 down the pit, where twice Barabant thought he 
 caught the sound of a chuckle. But when they 
 emerged into daylight, the face of Dossonville 
 remained inscrutable. 
 
 At the prison of the Abbaye they entered 
 without difficulty. There the gate stood open 
 day and night. At the desk, when the accusa- 
 tion had been read and the alibi announced, Dos- 
 sonville extended his hand to Barabant and said : 
 
 " Thanks, citoyen. You need trouble yourself 
 no more." 
 
 " No more ! " Barabant exclaimed, in astonish- 
 ment, for he had expected to testify to the meet- 
 ing with Santerre. 
 
 Dossonville smiled grimly and, with a curious 
 twist of his back, said : 
 
 "My back itched a little in such company, 
 especially in that devil's descent of yours, where 
 little slips might occur. You were necessary to 
 my peace 'of mind ! Thanks, citoyen." 
 
 Then, as he was about to be led away, he 
 turned to the turnkey and cried rapidly . 
 
 "Citoyen, it is useless to disturb the good 
 Friend of the People. He will pardon me if I 
 used his name to insure a hearing before a properly 
 constituted court of justice." Then with his 
 silent, parted grin, he added, " My true defense 
 I shall present at the proper time." 
 
 -38
 
 THE TURN OF JA VOGUES 
 
 He disappeared in custody, not before he had 
 sent a glance of malicious enjoyment toward his 
 enemy, who, astounded, did not immediately re- 
 cover. When he did, it was with the rage of 
 the wounded lion suddenly surprised by the 
 trap. 
 
 139
 
 A TRIUMPH OF INSTINCT 
 
 HOlA above, Barabant." 
 " Hoi a below, Goursac." 
 
 "Come down." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " Collenot is condemned. We 're going to 
 the execution." 
 
 " What, at eight o'clock at night ? " 
 
 " Immediately. I am just back from the 
 trial." 
 
 "I 'm coming." 
 
 The Revolutionary Tribunal, inaugurated two 
 days before, had deliberated ever since upon the 
 fate of Collenot d'Agremont, seeking to fasten 
 on the King and the Court the onus of the battle 
 of the Tuileries. But beyond Barabant's desire to 
 see the execution of this first victim of the anger 
 of the Nation, was his curiosity to witness the 
 second installation of that strange machine which 
 had carried the name of Dr. Guillotin beyond 
 the boundaries of France. 
 
 140
 
 A TRIUMPH OF INSTINCT 
 
 " And your Nicole ? " Goursac asked when 
 Barabant had joined them. " Why don't you 
 bring her"?" 
 
 " She 's not in her room." 
 
 "You called her?" 
 
 " Yes, yes." Barabant, not wishing to discover 
 their estrangement, hastened on : " Did Collenot 
 implicate the Court ? " 
 
 " He would say nothing. To do him justice, 
 he was very firm." 
 
 "And the Tribunal?" 
 
 " Impressive. The people were awed. The 
 judge pronounced an eloquent harangue, they 
 always do." He flung out his arm and repeated 
 sarcastically : " ' Victim of the law, could you but 
 read the hearts of your judges you would find 
 them crushed and saddened. Go to your death 
 courageously. The Nation demands from you 
 nothing but a sincere repentance.' " 
 
 " That 's well put ! " 
 
 " Repentance and your head ! " Goursac 
 amended sarcastically. " What an absurdity ! " 
 
 "Not at all," retorted Barabant, disciple of 
 Rousseau and the sentimentalists. " The Nation 
 mourning and forgiving its enemies, even when 
 pronouncing sentence, is a spectacle, I say, that 
 is sublime." 
 
 " Bah ! What good is sentiment when you 
 141
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 lack a head ? No, no. These grandiloquent 
 harangues of mercy and advice disgust me. They 
 are nothing but self-advertisement. If I were a 
 judge, I 'd say : 
 
 " ' Collenot, my friend, the Nation has proved 
 you guilty; I pronounce upon you sentence of 
 death; for further details consult Monsieur de 
 Paris. Bon voyage ! ' : 
 
 " And the guillotine, Citoyen Goursac : do 
 you find it insincere to despatch an enemy with 
 the least pain *? " 
 
 " Ah, the guillotine ! There is a tremendous 
 advance in human thought ! " Goursac exclaimed, 
 without deigning to open an argument. " There 
 is something to be proud of. I foresee great in- 
 novations from this simple invention. To have 
 learned to suppress human life painlessly is a true 
 sentimental advance. We shall go further." 
 
 Barabant, seeing that he was started on his theo- 
 ries, said good-humoredly : 
 
 " Well, what next ? " 
 
 " The day will come when society will regard 
 it as a crime to allow children to grow up who 
 are hopelessly destined to suffering such as 
 weaklings, monsters, hunchbacks, and the other 
 deformed. The State will suppress them." 
 
 His companion groaned in horror. 
 
 " More than that," Goursac contended, " the 
 142
 
 A TRIUMPH OF INSTINCT 
 
 day will come when the aged, the infirm, the de- 
 crepit, the mortally stricken, will be painlessly 
 released from their suffering. Yes, death, when 
 inevitable, will be made instantaneous, and so- 
 ciety will approve." 
 
 "And how soon do you expect this magnifi- 
 cent idea to fructify ? " Barabant asked scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 " In about two thousand years," Goursac an- 
 swered, with a hitch of his head. " That is the 
 time necessary for an idea to conquer society." 
 
 "My dear friend, you are either joking or 
 mad." 
 
 " The condition of prophecy is to be scorned," 
 the theorist said dryly. "You remember Cas- 
 sandra." 
 
 They entered the Place du Carrousel, where 
 the guillotine, whether by conscious or uncon- 
 scious irony, was established under the frowning 
 shadows of the abode of kings. The dim square 
 was hidden by a loose, shifting network of varie- 
 gated colors dominated by the bright flecks of 
 countless liberty-caps, which, in measure, as 
 new groups arrived, contracted into mists of red. 
 Above this bobbing field of heads two thin shafts 
 started upward, nearly lost in the descending dusk. 
 Goursac, extending his hand in the direction of 
 these, said : 
 
 H3
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " There is the guillotine." 
 
 " It does not seem very terrible," answered Bar- 
 abant. " Let us stay here ; it is, perhaps, a false 
 report. In ten minutes it will be too dark." 
 
 Others with the same idea lingered on the out- 
 skirts of the crowd or turned away. The faces 
 of the throng could no longer be distinguished, 
 when suddenly afar there sprang up a circle of 
 torches, and the scaffold emerged from the night. 
 
 The two friends hastily made their way through 
 the crowd until, at the end of twenty minutes' pa- 
 tient endeavor, they reached the foremost ranks. 
 A calm spread among the unseen throng, broken 
 by sudden tensions at each new alarm. The 
 people, who had greeted the first appearance of 
 the guillotine with cries of disappointment and 
 demands for the more spectacular gallows, were 
 now impressed by the cloak of mystery the night 
 drew about the scaffold. The machine was no 
 longer mere wood and iron; it had tasted blood: 
 it was human. 
 
 Barabant, from his position of vantage, could 
 distinguish the upright shafts, where from time 
 to time, as Goursac explained the mechanism, 
 some reflection from a torch falling on the knife 
 above, there appeared the dull display of steel 
 like the sudden threat of a brutish fang. 
 
 Turning from the scaffold, Barabant examined 
 144
 
 A TRIUMPH OF INSTINCT 
 
 the crowd, where, seeking for Nicole, he per- 
 ceived Louison worming her way toward them. 
 
 Suddenly a whisper ran over the heads and 
 rose to a breeze of exclamations. The masses 
 tightened. Those in front were swept against the 
 guards as those behind surged forward, stretching 
 to tiptoe. Louison, caught in the press, was im- 
 prisoned not twenty feet away. This time the 
 alarm was not vain. From all sides burst the 
 growl of the mob. 
 
 "Hu! hu! hu!" 
 
 A long, tedious moment succeeded, then sud- 
 denly the scaffold swarmed with dark figures. The 
 hooting and the screeching gave place to a burst 
 of hand-clapping. Barabant, astonished at the im- 
 placable ferocity of the crowd, turned to examine 
 it, but his eye encountering Louison, remained 
 there. 
 
 The radiance of a neighboring torch redeemed 
 her figure from the obscurity. Her head was 
 strained slightly forward, while one hand clutched 
 the kerchief at her throat as though to restrain 
 her eagerness. The lips were parted, the eyes 
 glowed with the intensity of fascinated con- 
 templation, but her whole figure, in contrast to 
 the unbridled passions of the crowd, remained, 
 as during the attack on the Tuileries, controlled 
 and insensible. 
 
 145
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 So unnatural was her attitude that Barabant 
 could not have averted his eyes had not the hand 
 of Goursac recalled him to the drama before him. 
 He sought in the gloom and the shadows, seeing 
 nothing, until suddenly out of the darkness came 
 the shoot and the thud of the knife. 
 
 A woman, with a cry, caught his arm, burying 
 her head in his sleeve. Another woman, holding 
 a baby, was shouting wildly : 
 
 "Bravo! Bravo!" 
 
 A tottering veteran, in the costume of the In- 
 valides, questioned him eagerly : 
 
 " Is it over? Tell me, citoyen, is it over? " 
 
 The woman on his arm continued to gasp 
 hysterically. Himself recoiling at this death out 
 of the darkness, he returned to the contemplation 
 of Louison. 
 
 Her pose had relaxed, while a slight smile of 
 disdain appeared as she watched the frantic crowd 
 acclaim the head which a bourreau held to them. 
 On her face was neither horror nor anger, neither 
 disgust nor passion. As calmly as though before 
 her own mirror, she smoothed out her dress and 
 replaced the cockade, torn by the contact of the 
 crowd, with a fresh one from her basket, scent- 
 ing first its perfume. She raised her eyes, and 
 her glance met that of Barabant, overcome with 
 disgust. She frowned, and turning her shoulder, 
 
 146
 
 A TRIUMPH OF INSTINCT 
 
 was lost in the crowd which now flowed out in 
 widening circles. 
 
 " What is there about her ! " Barabant ex- 
 claimed, turning to Goursac. 
 
 " About whom ? " 
 
 " Louison," he said impatiently. " You did 
 not see her ? She made me shiver ! " 
 
 " She affects me like a snake," Goursac an- 
 swered. " She is a creature of the night, in her 
 element at such a time. They say she never 
 misses an execution. " Well, citoyen, what of 
 the machine *? " 
 
 " Horrible ! " 
 
 "You are wrong," Goursac protested. " It 
 does not take life : it suppresses it, and that by a 
 process more charitable than natural death. That 
 is the way a nation should avenge itself." He 
 repeated several times in a transport of enthusi- 
 asm, " Magnificent ! " 
 
 " There, look at it now!" 
 
 At Barabant's summons they paused at the 
 gate, looking back at the dim circle of lights 
 around the guillotine unseen but divined, while 
 Barabant continued : 
 
 " The first time did not count it was only a 
 thief. To-night is the true beginning of the 
 guillotine a sinister and ominous begin- 
 ning." 
 
 H7
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Still, what a spectacle ! " Goursac exclaimed. 
 " What could be more dramatic ? " 
 
 " Too much so," Barabant retorted. " I admit I 
 am impressionable, but to-night the blow seemed 
 to fall from above our own heads." 
 
 "You are superstitious. You will be telling 
 me next that you had a premonition about your 
 own neck." 
 
 " Hardly ; but, my friend, yours is so long and 
 the chances of politics are so many " 
 
 "Don't trouble yourself,"repliedGoursac,laugh- 
 ing, and with a mock gesture he extended his fist. 
 " As for my neck, Madame Guillotine, I defy you 
 to take it." He turned to Barabant. " You, my 
 friend, are so gallant that I won't answer for yours." 
 
 They passed into the Rue Royale, Goursac 
 slightly in advance. Barabant, rubbing shoul- 
 ders with the departing crowd, felt a pull on his 
 arm and heard the voice of Nicole saying mis- 
 chievously : 
 
 " Barabant, are you very angry with me ? " 
 
 Too astonished to make answer, he remained 
 dumbly gazing into the teasing countenance ; but 
 at that moment Goursac, perceiving them, 
 called out indulgently : 
 
 " That 's right, children ; we don't live long 
 enough for lovers to quarrel. I '11 keep dis- 
 creetly ahead." 
 
 148
 
 A TRIUMPH OF INSTINCT 
 
 Barabant persisting in his silence, Nicole con- 
 tinued pleadingly : 
 
 " Then you are still angry ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I am sorry." 
 
 She said it in such a gentle tone, sighing 
 slightly, that Barabant's anger held no longer; 
 still, as a measure of policy, he kept silent. 
 
 Goursac, preparing to wheel into a side street, 
 called back, with a laugh of which only Nicole 
 could guess the cost : 
 
 " Good-by, my children ; I leave you in peace. 
 Love-making is disconcerting to the older gen- 
 eration. Reconcile yourselves quickly." 
 
 Barabant and Nicole, thus left to themselves, 
 continued arm in arm silently homeward, avoid- 
 ing the thronged thoroughfares, the noise and 
 the lights, plunging by preference down quiet 
 ways where only an occasional window reddened 
 the sides of the night. Barabant struggled to 
 maintain his just anger ; Nicole, who had yielded 
 to an impulse in accosting him, searched for 
 some means to regain the ground which she felt 
 she had surrendered. 
 
 "You don't answer," she said at last, withdraw- 
 ing her arm half-way. " You want me to go *? " 
 
 He freed himself brusquely and faced her with 
 the angry cry : 
 
 149
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Coquette ! " 
 
 " No, that I am not ! " she cried, and seizing 
 his arm, she said rapidly : " Barabant, it is not 
 true. You have no right to say that ! " 
 
 " You have a right to be what you wish." 
 
 Nicole, checking herself, said sadly : 
 
 " You still believe I am playing with you ? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 She withdrew a step and shook her head. 
 
 " No, it is not you I am playing with." 
 
 Barabant, who did not fathom the allusion, 
 started to ask her what she meant ; but Nicole, 
 immediately perceiving the danger, retreated 
 from her serious mood, and slipping her arm 
 through his, said imperiously as they started on : 
 
 " Barabant, have you ever been in love se- 
 riously in love *? " 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 " But seriously ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I was sure of it." 
 
 " And why % " Barabant demanded, nettled at 
 her assumption. 
 
 "Because you understand nothing of a woman." 
 She continued rapidly : " Listen to reason, my 
 friend. You assume rights over me and my 
 actions, and yet what right have you *? You 
 have never once told me that you love me. Yet 
 
 150
 
 A TRIUMPH OF INSTINCT 
 
 you are angry because I insist upon being wooed, 
 foolish, ignorant fellow ! " 
 
 Her reproof, which she designed to be heavy, 
 weakened despite herself, until at the end she 
 pronounced it almost caressingly. 
 
 "Is that just, Nicole 1 ?" Barabant cried, seizing 
 the opening. " Why am I angry *? Because you 
 will not give me the opportunity." He drew 
 her closer to him. "Nicole, listen to me but 
 once." 
 
 " No, no," she checked him imperiously, ** I 
 do not wish to. You are too headlong. Bara- 
 bant, I tell you, you do not know yourself." 
 
 " I I don't know what I feel?" 
 
 She checked him again. 
 
 " If you do, then respect my wishes." She 
 added almost pleadingly: "Not too fast, Bara- 
 bant. Be reasonable and I will not avoid you 
 again." Then peremptorily changing the sub- 
 ject : " Did you see Louison ? She is always at 
 an execution." 
 
 He accepted the turn reluctantly. 
 
 " I saw her." 
 
 " How did she affect you *? " 
 
 '* Like a snake," he answered, using Goursac's 
 expression. " There is something about her that 
 repels me." 
 
 " I was afraid she might attract you," she
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 confessed, with a laugh, in which showed a little 
 relief. 
 
 At No. 38 they groped into the entrance, feel- 
 ing the walls with their hands. The crow set 
 up a raucous crying, while la Mere Corniche 
 appeared at the door, shading her candle to dis- 
 cover their approach. They passed on through 
 the first court to the bottom of the staircase, 
 where a single torch flickered in its bracket. 
 Nicole held out her hand, averting her face. 
 
 "Good night, Barabant, and until to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 The hour, the place, the torch that allowed 
 her body to melt into the shadow and illuminated 
 only the eyes, the lips, and the smile that tempted 
 him with the mystery of what it hid, overcame 
 his resolutions. He caught her by the wrists 
 and drew her toward him. Nicole gave a little 
 cry, resisting feebly. 
 
 " I cannot understand you," he cried fiercely. 
 " What are you '? What do you feel ? Do you 
 love me or do you not ? " 
 
 She answered faintly, struggling against his 
 arms: 
 
 " Let me go." 
 
 "Nicole, dear Nicole, I love you, I adore 
 you." 
 
 " No, no, no ! " 
 
 152
 
 A TRIUMPH OF INSTINCT 
 
 He released her, and throwing himself at her 
 feet, he stretched up his hands to her, crying : 
 
 "Look, look!" 
 
 Nicole, with her hand to her cheek half turned 
 from him, could not but believe. In his eyes 
 she saw the tears appear, and moved, despite 
 herself, by his emotion, she took his forehead be- 
 tween her palms, saying softly : 
 
 " Calm thyself, Barabant." 
 
 " You love me ; you do, you do ! " he cried. 
 He caught her hand in his and repeated, as only 
 the lover knows how : " I love you ! I love you ! 
 I love you ! " 
 
 She pressed her hands to her eyes to steady 
 herself. 
 
 " And how long will it last ? " she said sol- 
 emnly, her voice reverberating in the hollow of 
 the silent hall. "Three months, Barabant? And 
 then " 
 
 "For life forever!" 
 
 Nicole shook her head incredulously, but her 
 breast rose in long, tumultuous breaths, trem- 
 bling with the memory of the word. 
 
 He mounted the stairs, turned and held out 
 his hand to her. She dared not look at him, for 
 victory was in his eyes. 
 
 " Nicole, Nicole ! " 
 
 Then she looked at him, her hands to her 
 
 153
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 throat, fallen back against the wall. He smiled 
 to her, waiting confidently. Up the dark ascent 
 was love, mystery, anguish, jealousy, doubt, 
 but always love. 
 
 She moved a step toward him, fascinated and 
 drawn on, until their fingers touched. Then 
 suddenly she shrank away, and with a cry, 
 spreading out her hands to screen him from her 
 sight, she fled. Only the instinct had survived, 
 but the instinct had conquered. 
 
 154
 
 XI 
 
 THE MAN WITH THE LANTERN 
 
 THEN between Nicole and Barabant began 
 one of those subtle conflicts of the sexes 
 in which the one who loves the more unselfishly 
 is foredoomed to defeat. Until the night of the 
 execution Nicole had combated the very thought 
 of love. Her flight at the staircase was the last 
 spark of resistance. She had drunk of the cup, 
 the poison was in her veins. The next morning 
 she resigned herself to the bitter, determined, 
 cost what it might, to have her hour of happi- 
 ness. 
 
 She gave up the struggle against herself, but 
 began another to safeguard her happiness. Her 
 intuitions told her to resist that the longer he 
 was compelled to woo, the more he would prize 
 her. In her uneasy doubts she had recourse to 
 coquetry, but that coquetry which is unselfish 
 and pathetic, and is nothing but the instinct of 
 self-preservation. 
 
 155
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 To Barabant, who neither knew the depth of 
 her longings, nor could have understood them 
 had he known, the hesitation and delays of Ni- 
 cole were incomprehensible. Resolved to meet 
 her with like tactics, he assumed toward her the 
 attitude of a comrade, avoiding all expression of 
 sentiment. 
 
 Nicole readily fathomed the artifice. She coun- 
 tered by an equal show of indifference, leaving 
 him always after a moment's conversation. Bara- 
 bant retaliated by devoting himself anew to 
 Louison. 
 
 The manceuver brought Nicole back. It was 
 the one move she had not foreseen. It threw 
 her into a panic of jealousy. Not that she did 
 not understand his motive, but she feared, from 
 his being thrown with Louison, results of which 
 he had no thought. She admitted her mistake 
 and relinquished the struggle. She returned 
 uneasily to him, showing him from time to time, 
 by a word or gesture, that he had only to ask. 
 Barabant, blind to the extent of the change, 
 though instinctively perceiving its import, re- 
 doubled his attentions to Louison; treating Ni- 
 cole always as a comrade, hailing her joyfully, 
 gay and charming in her company, but saying 
 never a word of what she now impatiently 
 sought.
 
 THE MAN WITH THE LANTERN 
 
 Meanwhile events had been hurrying on the 
 inevitable conflict between the Commune and 
 the Convention. On the 25th of August the 
 news of the treacherous surrender of Longwy to 
 the Prussian army ran through the arteries of 
 Paris as an inflaming poison. The Nation rose 
 from the fall in the fury of its anger and wounded 
 pride. From the windows of the Hotel de Ville 
 an immense banner rolled its folds over the city, 
 bearing the inspiring inscription : 
 
 " The Fatherland is in danger ! " 
 
 From all sides recruits rushed in to swell the 
 legions of defense. The city, as though the 
 enemy were already at its gates, converted itself 
 into a camp, established posts and sentries, while 
 at all hours the streets shook under the footfall 
 of passing patrols. Searching parties ran from 
 house to house, rilling the prisons with suspected 
 aristocrats. 
 
 The Convention, urged to abolish the mon- 
 archy and establish the Republic, hesitated. Only 
 the Commune was resolute, vociferous, and im- 
 placable, shouting for the massacre of the traitors 
 at home before marching against those abroad. 
 
 Lafayette deserting, Verdun rumored betrayed, 
 traitors everywhere, in the army of Brunswick, 
 in the Assembly, in Paris, nothing but a great 
 example could strike terror in the hearts of
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 aristocrats at home and abroad. What that 
 example was, so clamorously demanded, few 
 doubted who beheld the frenzied crowds that 
 infested the gates of the prisons, gloating over 
 the list of prisoners there exposed. 
 
 In the midst of these alarms, to the dismay 
 of Goursac, Javogues took up his residence in the 
 landing below them. Shortly after, Nicole re- 
 ported another disquieting fact : la Mere Cor- 
 niche had closed her cellar, refusing admission to 
 all. Occasionally Bafabant saw Javogues run- 
 ning the streets at the head of searching parties, 
 in a whirlwind of disheveled forms and rushing 
 torches, while the room of the Marseillais was 
 filled with uncouth figures in secret gathering, of 
 whose character Barabant, knowing the tempera- 
 ment of Javogues, had no doubt. 
 
 On the night of the 1st of September Bara- 
 bant, who had enrolled for the defense of the 
 city, began his patrol at the junction of the Rue 
 St. Antoine and the great, gloomy square where 
 had stood the fortress of the Bastille. The mass 
 of citizens, foreseeing the massacre on the mor- 
 row, had retired early, barring the doors, leaving 
 the streets to be swept by restless bands of the 
 lawless : vultures stirred up by the prospect of 
 carrion. 
 
 The hours lagged, and the tramp of his step 
 
 158
 
 THE MAN WITH THE LANTERN 
 
 seemed endless to Barabant. His reflections 
 were bitter; for him, the Girondin, it was not 
 simply the massacre of aristocrats, but the fall 
 of his party, that he apprehended. 
 
 At twelve Nicole was to join him for the 
 remaining hour. There was still three quarters 
 of an hour before she would come. The increas- 
 ing sound of voices restored him to the con- 
 sciousness of his trust. 
 
 Soon a party of five emerged, preceded by a 
 small muffled figure gliding with feverish steps 
 ahead, as a flame devours its path. Barabant, fol- 
 lowing them on his beat, strove to recall the 
 familiar stride of the leader. The patrol approach- 
 ing him from the opposite direction cried : 
 
 " Is it you, Citoyen Sentry ? " 
 
 The figure advancing assumed human shape. 
 
 '" He, you are alone to-night ? " 
 
 " Until twelve." 
 
 " You are lucky." He shifted his musket and 
 laughed. " Mine leaves me alone to-night. We 
 had a bit of a quarrel. I had to break a bottle 
 over her head. And now, the devil take it! I 
 have to stand guard alone." He added angrily : 
 " That 's the way with women." 
 
 " One moment, citoyen. You saw the party 
 pass just now *? " 
 
 " Aye. Did you not recognize him *? " 
 
 159
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Some one who '11 be busy to-night, the 
 Citoyen Marat." He raised his voice cheerily 
 and sang: 
 
 " Ah, ca ira, 53 ira, 93 ira ; 
 Les aristocrates a la lanterne! 
 Ah, a ira, 93 ira, ca ira ; 
 Les aristocrates on les pendra. 
 
 " By to-morrow night there '11 be no need of 
 sentries ! " he broke off. " It 's long, eh, when 
 there 's no one to keep you company? The 
 devil take the woman ! " He shouldered his 
 musket. " Citoyen, Salut et Fraternite." 
 
 He turned on his heel and joined the darkness, 
 while back came the unmusical voice : 
 
 "Dansons la carmagnole, 
 Vive le son, vive le son ! 
 Dansons la carmagnole, 
 Vive le son " 
 
 The rest lost itself faintly among distant roofs. 
 
 Barabant, recommencing his tedious pacing, 
 returned to the Rue St. Antoine, where the sound 
 of light footsteps warned him of the approach of 
 a woman or a child. 
 
 " Can it be Nicole ? " he thought hopefully, 
 but his spirits fell as the woman came on doubt- 
 fully in a wavering line. 
 
 160
 
 THE MAN WITH THE LANTERN 
 
 " Good evening, citoyenne," he said gallantly. 
 "There are not many of your sex abroad to-night, 
 and alone." 
 
 The woman gave the countersign, "The loth 
 of August." 
 
 Barabant, seeing that she was not inclined to 
 enter into a conversation, cried : 
 
 "Take pity on the patriot, citoyenne. The 
 hours are dull." 
 
 But the woman, with only a slight shake of 
 her head, passed quickly on. Barabant, thus re- 
 pulsed, grumbled to himself: 
 
 " She is neither young nor pretty or she would 
 have stopped." But remembering the sentry he 
 had left, he continued : " Perhaps it is the fair one 
 with the broken head. If it is, she does n't seem 
 any too eager. No, she J s turned away." 
 
 Suddenly he drew himself up with an excla- 
 mation. He saw the woman halt as with the 
 twinkle of a lantern the figure of a man joined 
 her, while to his astonishment she drew back in 
 evident shrinking from her new companion. 
 
 Barabant, who had followed this scene with 
 such intentness as to have become unaware of 
 his surroundings, suddenly bounded back at the 
 touch of a hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " What vigilance, Citoyen Barabant ! What 
 a model sentry ! " 
 
 161
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 It was Louison who had stolen on him si- 
 lently, and now stood mocking him. To Bara- 
 bant the apparition was so in keeping with the 
 strange impression which the girl had made on 
 him that he was too startled to answer immedi- 
 ately. 
 
 " Why are you always afraid of me ? " Lou- 
 ison said impatiently. " It is n't pleasant to in- 
 spire terror." 
 
 Barabant excused himself, recounting the scene 
 he had just witnessed ; but Louison, not to be 
 put off, returned to her question. " So I inspire 
 you with fear ? " 
 
 " The expression is exaggerated," Barabant re- 
 turned evasively. 
 
 " Come, frankly, there is something about me 
 that has repelled you ? " She continued seek- 
 ing the answer herself. " Was it the day we 
 went to the flower-market and I pretended an- 
 ger ? That was but play." Her eyes sought his 
 face, as though she could find its expression de- 
 spite the darkness. All at once she said, " It was 
 at the guillotine ? " 
 " That 's true." 
 
 " I knew it ; but why ? I don't understand," 
 she said almost angrily. " What is there about 
 me that gives such an impression *? I am not 
 conscious of it." 
 
 162
 
 THE MAN WITH THE LANTERN 
 
 " First, answer me this," Barabant said, " and 
 frankly. At an execution you have no feeling 
 of pity or horror, have you ? " 
 
 " No," she answered thoughtfully. " Why ? " 
 
 " Because it is too evident." 
 
 " How do I seem ? " she said quickly. 
 
 " You seem utterly indifferent to any human 
 suffering." 
 
 " That is true," she said slowly. 
 
 "It is not only that," Barabant continued, 
 " but how shall I say it ? There seemed to be 
 almost a fascination to you in the spectacle that 
 ordinarily sickens the human heart." 
 
 " What ! " the girl exclaimed, astonished, " are 
 you not curious to see how a man can die ? " 
 
 " Curious, yes ; but the spectacle is disagree- 
 able to me." 
 
 " Why *? What is more ordinary and com- 
 monplace than death *? " 
 
 Barabant, in despair of making her understand, 
 remained silent. 
 
 " How curious ! And when I am at an exe- 
 cution I look different from this ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I seem ? " 
 
 " Unhuman." 
 
 She tossed her head in displeasure and said 
 sharply : 
 
 163
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " I do not like that." 
 
 " I am frank." 
 
 Louison remained thoughtfully silent, per- 
 turbed and frowning. Then lifting her head, 
 she said gaily, in quite a different manner: 
 
 " Very well, then ; I shall take care how you 
 see me in future." 
 
 She turned in the direction of the Bastille, and 
 fastening her glance upon the ring of light, said: 
 
 " It seems to be going away. Perhaps we 
 shall see the woman now." 
 
 " She comes faster this time," Barabant said 
 as the sound of footsteps warned them of her 
 approach. 
 
 The next moment a bundle of draperies passed 
 them as a ship scudding before a storm. Lou- 
 ison, watching the woman, closed her hand over 
 Barabant's wrist, allowing an exclamation to 
 escape her. Then, springing forward, she cried : 
 
 " Eh, mother ! Wait a moment ! " 
 
 The fleeting figure turned as though stung, 
 then dashed wildly into the darkness. Louison, 
 with a bound, sprang after her, but suddenly 
 clapping her hand to her forehead, turned and 
 broke past Barabant, who heard only, as she shot 
 on toward the Bastille, the words : 
 
 " The man with the lantern ! " 
 
 164
 
 XII 
 
 THE MASSACRE OF THE PRISONS 
 
 ^ | ^HE next morning Nicole and Genevieve, 
 JL having breakfasted at noon near the Tem- 
 ple, where the throng collected daily to insult 
 the ears of the royal family, returned slowly 
 toward the Tuileries through the hushed and ap- 
 prehensive city. 
 
 Toward three o'clock the long-awaited tocsin 
 sounded from the other side of the river, then 
 the chance burst of a musket and the assem- 
 bling roll of drums. But this time, in con- 
 trast to the night of the gth of August, there 
 came no spontaneous outpouring into the streets. 
 As the tocsin continued to disturb the air with its 
 violent voice, timid faces appeared at the win- 
 dows, searching with anxious glances the streets, 
 the opposite walls, in doubt of their neighbors ; 
 even the air, as though to discover the reason of 
 the uproar. 
 
 The streets were emptied; small groups wa- 
 vered in the entrances, waiting for the first rumors 
 
 165
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 to guide them. As the two girls hesitated, a 
 woman appeared, running toward them, drag- 
 ging a child at either side. From window and 
 doorway a clamor of questions arose, while many, 
 running into the street, surrounded her and 
 sought to stop her progress. But the woman, 
 resisting all entreaties, cleft the crowd and dis- 
 appeared, repeating frantically : 
 
 " They are massacring the prisoners ! " 
 
 The street grew noisy with exclamation and 
 conjecture, while those above, in the windows, 
 screamed down for the rumors that flew from lip 
 to lip. A little later another messenger arrived, 
 a waif of the slums, to whom the marks of 
 poverty and vice had given the semblance of an 
 incongruous manhood. The boy came romping 
 down the street, bare-legged, disheveled, bran- 
 dishing a knife. At times he flung up his hands 
 and screamed in childish treble : 
 
 " To the Abbaye, citoyens, to the Abbaye ! The 
 tyrants are being exterminated. The justice of 
 the people is beginning ! To the Abbaye ! To 
 the Abbaye ! " 
 
 Behind the frenzied boy there fell a silence, 
 and the crowd, in a sudden, senseless panic, re- 
 treated indoors. 
 
 " The Abbaye !" Nicole cried in consternation. 
 " And Dossonville ! We must hurry there." 
 
 166
 
 THE MASSACRE OF THE PRISONS 
 
 A baker's wife, seeing them hastening on, cried: 
 
 "Are you going to the Abbaye, citoyennes"? 
 Is there any danger ? " 
 
 " Not for us." 
 
 " Wait, I '11 join you." 
 
 A cobbler made a fourth, then two apprentices 
 from a cloth-merchant attached themselves, then 
 a fishwife and a tow-headed newsboy. As they 
 crossed the Seine the crowd increased, while horrid 
 figures of depravity and suffering, vermin of 
 Paris, broke past them. Cutlasses and pikes ap- 
 peared, and from the panting throng shouts burst 
 out : 
 
 " Death to the traitors ! " 
 
 " Death to the betrayers of Longwy ! " 
 
 " Death to all aristocrats!" 
 
 " Death to priests ! " 
 
 At the Abbaye they found the sanguinary rem- 
 nants of the prisoners who, transferred from the 
 Conciergerie, had been swept from the carts into 
 the maw of the mob at the very gates that 
 opened to shelter them. On the prison itself 
 there had been as yet no attack. The mob, seek- 
 ing vengeance on the priests, had swept on to . 
 the convent of Les Carmes. 
 
 At the sight of the strewn corpses and the 
 blood-bespattered pavements the baker's wife 
 halted, crying : 
 
 167
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " I 've seen enough ; I 'm going back." 
 
 The cobbler hesitated, listening across the 
 houses to the faint cries of the mob in the Rue 
 Vaugirard. The apprentices sprang forward, 
 while the newsboy exclaimed impudently: 
 
 " Come on, comrades, we must see what 's 
 doing!" 
 
 Nicole, who had come solely to assure herself 
 of Dossonville's safety, likewise recoiling before 
 the spectacle of "butchery, was yet so impelled 
 by the subtle, morbid fascination which such 
 scenes exercise over the human mind, that with- 
 out a thought she hastened on. The fishwife and 
 the cobbler joined them ; even the woman who 
 had already started to retreat acceded to the com- 
 mon curiosity and returned, protesting : 
 
 " It 's too horrible ! Turn back." 
 
 " After all," the cobbler answered, " that 's what 
 the aristocrats would like to do to us ! " 
 
 " Aye, citoyen, you 've hit it right ! " 
 
 " And the women ? " 
 
 " They '11 leave them alone." 
 
 "We '11 see." 
 
 About the convent a loose throng was churn- 
 ing, bristling with pikes and crudely fashioned 
 spears. 
 
 " Keep together," the cobbler cried, " and 
 bear toward the wall ! " 
 
 168
 
 , THE MASSACRE OF THE PRISONS 
 
 By this manceuver they penetrated to the 
 front, where, their band disintegrating, Gene- 
 vieve and Nicole succeeded in reaching a position 
 at a grill in the wall. 
 
 In the garden, not thirty feet away, a black 
 mass dotted with the white of human faces was 
 huddled together, shrinking from the gates and 
 apertures that swarmed with axes, scythes, swords, 
 and barbarous faces more pitiless than the steel. 
 
 At Nicole's side a mason extended his cut- 
 lass toward the priests, bellowing : 
 
 "Eh, you fat fellow over there! Wait till 
 they let us in! I '11 carve you!" 
 
 Another shouted : 
 
 " I choose to shave the tall one ; I '11 make a 
 true monk of him ! " 
 
 The priests encouraged one another; some 
 knelt, others lifted their arms, their voices, and 
 their eyes serenely above. A few blanched be- 
 fore the approach of martyrdom, while others in 
 whom youth's natural impulse to life was strong 
 calculated the surroundings and weighed the 
 desperate chances of escape. 
 
 All at once there was an upheaval in the herd 
 of the besieged, a swaying toward the walls, and 
 a sudden parting that opened a path to the 
 chapel beyond, where a swarm of the populace, 
 who had broken through, was spreading over the 
 
 169
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 steps. From the crowd without a wild shout 
 went' up; those at the locked gates, stretching 
 their arms through, strove to prod the victims 
 with their pikes. 
 
 On the steps, face to face with their prey, the 
 new assailants hesitated, seeking some pretext 
 before striking. But one, more impatient than 
 the rest, burst from the back and fired point- 
 blank into the herd. The impulse once given, 
 the assassins fell upon their victims, who on their 
 knees welcomed the end. 
 
 Forty or fifty of the younger members, revolt- 
 ing at such surrender to death, bounded away to 
 scale the farther walls. A very few passed over 
 and escaped to outer courts before the bandits 
 flung themselves on the fleeing. Then every- 
 where could be seen bodies clutching at the 
 brim of the wall, tumbling and pitching back- 
 ward in the horror of the overtaking fate. Arms 
 that grasped liberty suddenly contracted in the 
 convulsions of despair; faces that already looked 
 on life appeared a moment above the wall and 
 fell back with the sharp summons to death. 
 
 " Shall we go *? " cried Nicole, suffocated. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 But they could not move. The scene en- 
 chained them. 
 
 The hunt consummated, the hunters flung 
 170
 
 THE MASSACRE OF THE PRISONS 
 
 themselves on the unresisting, and as though to 
 stifle the smallest spark of pity, redoubled their 
 fury and their cries. 
 
 In front of the two girls a Marseillais felled a 
 priest with two strokes across the scalp, and drove 
 his pike into the stomach with such ferocity that 
 the point refused to move. The assassin, in 
 rage jumping on the lifeless body, stamped and 
 tugged, cursing the resistance of the corpse which 
 sought to retain the weapon that had struck it 
 down. Everywhere the butchers, not content with 
 the death-dealing blow, flung themselves on the 
 lifeless bodies, piercing them with infuriated stabs, 
 as though the last insult was this mutilation of 
 the dead. 
 
 Finally, despairing of satisfying their vengeance 
 on this inert mass, the leaders forced those who 
 remained into the church, some who still breathed 
 being borne on the arms of those who but de- 
 ferred their murder. Two by two they were led 
 out and butchered. 
 
 From this moment the massacre, in its clock- 
 like procession, abated its fury. The execution- 
 ers themselves, exhausted and listless, struck me- 
 chanically. 
 
 The crowd, grumbling at the monotony, moved 
 away. Nicole and Genevieve found themselves 
 in the street, packed in the press, beside their late 
 
 171
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 companions. The crowd, animated by the lust 
 of curiosity, became that most fearful of the mani- 
 festations of humanity a mob. 
 
 Genevieve and Nicole, no longer individuals, 
 but atoms, became cold, pitiless, maddened with 
 sensations, hungry for new; invaded by a fury 
 which they did not understand, an anger and a 
 hatred of which they knew not the cause. 
 
 Some one cried: 
 
 " On to St. Firmin. There are eighty priests 
 there ! " A hundred voices took up the cry, 
 and the mass, set in motion, rolled toward the 
 prison. 
 
 The fishwife, with streaming hair, bellowed : 
 
 *' Cut the throats of every one. No priest must 
 escape ! " 
 
 Farther on in the press of bodies, Nicole saw 
 the two apprentices, transformed with the frenzy. 
 
 The cobbler had armed himself with some 
 weapon; even the tow-headed newsboy near them 
 screamed hysterically: 
 
 " A la mort ! A la mort ! " 
 
 " I can go no farther ! " Nicole protested. 
 
 "Yes, yes," Genevieve cried, seizing her arms 
 and impelling her, but half resisting, into the rush 
 of the multitude. " We must see it ! We must 
 see everything ! " 
 
 She was a child no longer, but a savage akin in 
 172
 
 THE MASSACRE OF THE PRISONS 
 
 fury to the beast enraged by the red flash of 
 blood. 
 
 At St. Firmin's the vanguard broke into the 
 prison. The night was filled with shrieks of terror 
 and of furious exultation. Body after body, dead 
 or dying, was hurled from the window, to be 
 pounced upon below and torn to pieces. More 
 than eighty lay quivering in mounds. 
 
 Then at last the mob, by that strange organ- 
 ization by which it moves without commands, 
 turned face and, sparkling with torches, inun- 
 dated the narrow street that led down to the 
 Boulevard St. Germain, and returned to the prison 
 of the Abbaye. It was now deep into the night, 
 and for hours a semblance of a trial had been 
 going on within the court. The mob, thus balked 
 by the routine of justice, softened and dissipated 
 into a throng of spectators, bewildered and re- 
 covering slowly from their delirium. 
 
 Nicole, fearing for Dossonville, pressed forward 
 for a nearer view. About the gates were a score 
 of executioners, so saturated with blood that at 
 first glance the butchers seemed more like the 
 butchered. Eight or ten waited in two rows the 
 arrival of the new victim. As many more leaned 
 wearily against the wall with nodding heads. 
 One stooped to light fresh torches. 
 
 Suddenly the gates disclosed to Nicole the
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 flaring courtyard and the wild figure of a prisoner 
 propelled to destruction by two guards. At first 
 he marched to his death with firm tread; but 
 all at once, with a horrid heave of his breast, 
 he stretched out his hands before his face to hide 
 the hideous doom. Shoved forward, his arms 
 raised in the instinct of self-preservation, he 
 suffered untold tortures : his arms, hacked to 
 spouting stumps, received a dozen gashes, while 
 the revolting body sought to strike back against 
 the sting, until the last blow silenced the shriek 
 on shriek that called on merciful death. 
 
 Two men dragged aside the half-naked corpse 
 and flung it on the mound of bodies. At 
 the shock of the new arrival there was a sud- 
 den settling and shifting in this inert mass, a 
 quivering adjustment that gave the ghastly sem- 
 blance of life, as though a hideous welcome of 
 the dead to the dead. Genevieve, with throb- 
 bing pulses and dilated nostrils, shuddered and 
 turned to Nicole. She was so rigid, so ghastly 
 with the horror, that Genevieve seized her arm. 
 
 "Ah! ah! ah!" 
 
 At her clutch Nicole screamed in mortal dread, 
 then burst into hysterical weeping. Genevieve 
 put her arm around her and drew her away, 
 through the morbid crowd, seeing dimly the 
 baker's wife pressing feverishly forward to seize
 
 THE MASSACRE OF THE PRISONS 
 
 their place. Then Nicole, covering her eyes, 
 began to scream : 
 
 " Take me away, away, away ! " 
 
 But at every tenth step she stopped and 
 struggled to go back, her glance seeking the 
 caldron. The third time, to her horror, the 
 gates opened once more, and, heavily borne be- 
 tween two guards, she saw the figure of Dos- 
 sonville. 
 
 '75
 
 XIII 
 
 DOSSONVILLE IN PERIL 
 
 Citoyen Dossonville to the bar ! The 
 Citoyen Dos-son-ville ! " 
 
 The call, resounding along the stone corridors, 
 reached the prisoners huddled in the main hall 
 of the Abbaye. 
 
 " The Citoyen Dos-son-ville ! " 
 
 A turnkey under a snarling torch penetrated 
 the group, drawing one after another to him with 
 rough hand. 
 
 " The Citoyen Dossonville ! I summon all on 
 peril of their lives to discover to me the Citoyen 
 Dossonville ! " 
 
 Out of the mass extended a hand with long, 
 accusing forefinger, and a voice exclaimed : 
 
 " Over there." 
 
 The hand was snatched back, while a fo- 
 menting in the crowd showed where the informer 
 was burying himself from recognition. 
 
 The turnkey stopped before a figure stretched 
 in sleep, and incredulously thrust his torch into 
 
 176
 
 DOSSONVILLE IN PERIL 
 
 the face. But the sleeper continued to inhale 
 long breaths methodically, until, convinced of 
 the genuineness of the sleep, the turnkey pro- 
 ceeded to wake him with a vigorous thrust of 
 his foot. 
 
 Dossonville started to a sitting position, open- 
 ing his eyes on the suspicious visage above 
 him and the background of fellow-prisoners who, 
 afraid to show too much interest, held themselves 
 at a distance and followed from the corners of 
 their eyes. 
 
 " What do you want with me ? " 
 
 " Are you the Citoyen Dossonville *? " 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " The Nation summons you to appear before 
 the bar of the popular justice!" 
 
 " At eleven o'clock at night ? The justice of 
 the people never sleeps, then *? " 
 
 " Be quick ! " 
 
 Dossonville lifted himself to an upright posi- 
 tion, restoring his pillow to its rightful function 
 of cloak. 
 
 " I will not bother about my other possessions 
 now," he cried sarcastically. "Citoyennes and 
 citoyens, to the pleasure of seeing you again, 
 or not, as you prefer. Now for the justice of the 
 people ! " 
 
 Under the lightness of his manner, his mind 
 177
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 worked with the desperation of an animal at 
 bay. Of what he was approaching he knew 
 nothing. Yet as he advanced along the rever- 
 berant corridors, his mind assembled a dozen 
 stratagems to meet either a whirlwind of assassins 
 or the travesty of a trial. His eye, meanwhile 
 alert for every detail, enveloped each portion of 
 the journey at a glance, running the walls as a 
 wild animal tracks his cage. 
 
 Gradually his waiting ear distinguished a 
 muffled hum, a buzz of voices, increasing in 
 volume until out of it escaped the piercing shriek 
 of a woman. 
 
 The next moment there burst upon his hearing 
 a hundred cries, shrieks of terror, shouts of ven- 
 geance, cries of pity, commands and groans, 
 drunken and maddened notes, sharp to the ear, 
 rushing over his mind in a storm of confusion. 
 The gate opened and the volume smote him 
 with the fury of a blast. 
 
 He stood in the courtyard, blinking at strange 
 forms and the crossing and recrossing of torches, 
 striving to collect his wits. Two guards had 
 seized him, presenting the points of their reddened 
 swords to his breast. 
 
 His eye went to the center of the courtyard, 
 to a table flanked by torches, littered with papers, 
 bottles, and the glint of steel; behind which, 
 
 178
 
 DOSSONVILLE IN PERIL 
 
 installed as judge, Dossonville recognized the 
 huissier Maillard. A score of Marseillais, stained 
 with blood, reeling from sleep or drunkenness, 
 churned about this improvised tribunal, inter- 
 rupting with their revilings the testimony of 
 the accused, or swaggered back and forth through 
 the gate that led to the mob. Some clustered 
 in corners to drink from the bottles that a wine- 
 merchant constantly renewed; others nonchalantly 
 lighted pipes, stretched their arms and yawned. 
 In the lull between executions Dossonville heard 
 a snore. Amid this carnage one man, stretched 
 on a bench, was unconcernedly asleep. 
 
 " There 's a man who 's not disturbed by tri- 
 fles," he muttered. 
 
 At the slight shift he made, one of his guards 
 pricked him with his sword, crying angrily : 
 
 " Move again, and I '11 cut you to ribbons ! " 
 
 " I am become a statue," Dossonville answered 
 coolly. "Only, do not bear too hard. I am 
 ticklish." 
 
 Ahead of him, a priest without hope told 
 his beads ; while before the tribunal was a man 
 so bowed with years that he had to be supported 
 on either side. . 
 
 All at once, seeking in the crowd, Dossonville 
 perceived Javogues. 
 
 " Ai'e ! a'ie ! " he mumbled uneasily at the sight 
 179
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 of that gloating face. " What ferocity ! He is 
 bound to make sure of me. The animal ! " 
 
 He turned stoically from the Marseillais to 
 the judges, where, to his amazement, he perceived 
 a movement of clemency toward the accused. 
 Suddenly the voice of Maillard appealed to the 
 crowd : 
 
 " Citoyens, whatever the condition or the crimes 
 of thisfeeble plaything of time, I declare to you that 
 it is unworthy of the Republic to pursue here its 
 vengeance ! When nature, for eighty years, has 
 spared one from peril of sickness, shock of ac- 
 cident, and the din of battles, man cannot show 
 himself more pitiless than nature. Citoyens, I de- 
 mand the handful of years for this venerable 
 man." 
 
 An approving murmur saluted this oratorical 
 appeal, broken by the strident voice of Javogues: 
 
 " Traitors have no age. If he is an aristocrat, 
 let him die ! " 
 
 Maillard, encouraged by the cries of dissent, 
 extended his arm over the broken figure and 
 said impressively : 
 
 " Whatever this man has been, exists no more. 
 The Republic can take no vengeance here, for it 
 can deprive this man of nothing. Citoyens, let 
 him be acquitted." 
 
 " Well said." 
 
 180
 
 DOSSONVILLE IN PERIL 
 
 " He speaks well." 
 
 " Free him ! " 
 
 " Bravo. Free him ! " 
 
 The acquitted man, aware of what had hap- 
 pened, was led away by the guards. The priest 
 was put in his place, Dossonville moving nearer. 
 
 But now the executioners without the gates, 
 growing impatient, smote the air with their cries: 
 
 " More victims ! " 
 
 " Hurry up ! " 
 
 " No ceremony with the aristocrat ! " 
 
 " Hurry up ! More ! More ! " 
 
 " Give us more ! We want more !" 
 
 " Maillard, we are thirsty ! " 
 
 The judge, addressing the quiet victim, pro- 
 ceeded methodically : 
 
 " Jean Marie Latour ? " 
 
 " I am he." 
 
 "Called Brother Francis?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Priest?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "You refused the oath of allegiance to the 
 Nation?" 
 
 " I did." 
 
 At this a howl more of triumph than of anger 
 burst from the listeners, and the judge, recogniz- 
 ing the hopelessness of the case, said shortly: 
 
 181
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " To La Force." 
 
 Three men seized him and bore him, unresist- 
 ing, to the shambles, while two more propelled 
 Dossonville roughly forward. 
 
 Hardly was he in position when three piercing 
 shrieks announced the death of the priest. Dos- 
 sonville, shuddering despite his will, heard a voice 
 cry boisterously : 
 
 " Eh, what a squeal the animal gave ! " 
 
 The guards fell back, guarding his retreat, while 
 Dossonville, disdaining to notice, felt rather than 
 saw the Marseillais take his position at his side. 
 
 "Armand Roger Dossonville?" 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Lieutenant in the National Guard ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You are accused of being in the Tuileries on 
 the tenth day of August and of firing upon the 
 Nation." 
 
 " Who accuses me ? " 
 
 " I accuse you." 
 
 " And I." 
 
 Dossonville turned, met the angry eyes of 
 Javogues, and seeking the second speaker, rec- 
 ognized one of those who had arrested him. He 
 turned to the tribunal. 
 
 " The witnesses are mistaken. I was not at 
 the Tuileries." 
 
 182
 
 DOSSONVILLE IN PERIL 
 
 His accusers burst into a roar of denunciation, 
 but Maillard, quelling them, said quietly : 
 
 " That should not be difficult to prove. With 
 whom were you on the tenth day of August ? " 
 
 Dossonville nodded his head in assent. Then, 
 seeing the trap into which he was being led, he 
 asked : 
 
 " First, does not that register relate that on my 
 arrest I claimed an alibi with the Citoyen Marat 
 and later renounced it at this prison, giving as a 
 reason that I used it as a protection to insure my 
 reaching prison and a trial *? " 
 
 Javogues broke in furiously : 
 
 " Do not listen to him ! He prepares some 
 new lie ! " Then grasping Dossonville by the 
 collar, he shook his fist in his face. " I swear 
 that if he is acquitted, I myself will cut his 
 throat." 
 
 "The Citoyen Javogues," Dossonville con- 
 tinued, without changing the level of his voice, 
 " unfortunately for me, from the day we met has 
 hated me with an obstinate hatred. I adopted 
 the subterfuge only because I believed that other- 
 wise I never could have reached the prison alive. 
 The proof is, I denounced it immediately and 
 explained my reasons. You will find it there. 
 I will now tell you with whom I passed the 
 day." 
 
 183
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 He waited a moment for quiet, Javogues 
 thundering : 
 
 " He lies ! He lies ! He lies ! " 
 
 "The man whose testimony I invoke is known 
 to you, Citoyen Maillard. Of his patriotism 
 there can be no question. Unfortunately, he left 
 immediately after for the Army of the Rhone. 
 From ten o'clock of the night of August Qth 
 until ten o'clock of the morning of August loth 
 I was in the house of the Citoyen Heron." 
 
 There was a movement of stupefaction in the 
 assemblage, even Javogues recoiling. But the 
 first words of Maillard fell upon the ears of Dos- 
 sonville as the sudden fall of a sword. 
 
 "The Citoyen Heron did not leave for the 
 frontier. Let the Citoyen Heron be roused and 
 corroborate the accused ! " 
 
 Two or three threw themselves upon the sleeper 
 to bring him forward. The mind of Dossonville, 
 thus faced with certain defeat, did not give a sec- 
 ond to despair, but, with the last instinctive 
 grasping for life, gathered for a supreme effort. 
 
 " It is unnecessary," he cried hurriedly. " That 
 night I performed secret services to the Nation 
 that cannot be made public. But my life is at 
 stake ; I demand Santerre. Santerre will vouch 
 for me." 
 
 But what he said was lost in the chorus : 
 184
 
 DOSSONVILLE IN PERIL 
 
 " Spy ! " 
 
 "Liar!" 
 
 "Traitor!" 
 
 " Liar ! Liar ! " 
 
 " Santerre now ! " 
 
 " Robespierre next ! " 
 
 " He was nursing Danton, perhaps ! " 
 
 Dossonville stretched out his hand appealingly, 
 but recognizing, himself, the impossibility of his 
 position, he changed the gesture into one of com- 
 mand, and looking Maillard calmly in the face, 
 said : 
 
 " Well, hurry it up then ! " 
 
 " To La Force ! " 
 
 Dossonville, wheeling to meet his escorts, found 
 himself face to face with Javogues. 
 
 " Ah, traitor," the Marseillais cried, planting 
 himself in his path with folded arms, "have I 
 caught you at last ? " 
 
 With a sneer, he turned contemptuously on 
 his heel, while Dossonville, seized by his two 
 guards, began the fatal journey. Already from 
 the gates savage faces peered in expectation, 
 while from the courtyard cries of warning 
 arose : 
 
 " Another ! Another ! " 
 
 " Make ready, comrades ! " 
 
 " A tall one this time ! " 
 185
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Make ready ! " 
 
 Half-way to the gate,Dossonville stumbled and 
 went down, sprawling. Instantly he was up, but 
 catching at the arms of his guards, who, trying to 
 shake him off, cried : 
 
 " Let go, there, or I '11 stab you." 
 
 " Citoyen," answered Dossonville with an ex- 
 clamation of pain " Citoyen, I have turned my 
 ankle. Support me ! " 
 
 " Come, come, no nonsense ! " 
 
 " Citoyen, it is because I do not wish to ap- 
 pear to shrink. Remember that I am a French- 
 man ; I desire only to die bravely. Give me your 
 support." 
 
 " Give it to him ! " growled the other. 
 
 " Citoyen. I thank you ; unfortunately, we shall 
 not meet again." 
 
 The one who had spoken continued gruffly : 
 
 " When you pass through the gate keep your 
 hands behind your back ; you '11 suffer less." 
 
 " Thanks again." 
 
 The next moment the door of the human fur- 
 nace flung open upon his eyes the horrid specta- 
 cle of dead and living : of the living more horrible 
 than the dead. 
 
 " One step more ! " 
 
 The butchers, but five deep, seeing a man borne 
 to them by their comrades, relaxed their tension; 
 
 186
 
 DOSSONVILLE IN PERIL 
 
 those farthest away even lowering their dripping 
 blades. 
 
 " There, citoyens, steady me one moment." 
 With a sudden powerful lunge Dossonville 
 threw the two guards back and leaped headlong 
 into the gauntlet, pierced it, bounded across the 
 open, and dove headlong into the friendly crowd, 
 disappearing like an enormous fish, with only 
 an eddy in the crowd to show his passage. 
 
 .87
 
 XIV 
 
 GOURSAC AS ACCUSER 
 
 FOR two days, while the massacre ran its 
 course, Paris, in terror of a few hundred 
 assassins, was silent and empty. Bands of ma- 
 rauders scoured the streets, robbing and pillag- 
 ing under pretext of the right of search. No 
 shops were opened, all industry was suspended, 
 while the law-abiding occupied themselves with 
 fortifying their doors against immediate assault. 
 
 Nicole, broken with the horror of her experi- 
 ence, remained in her room, in utter collapse. 
 Barabant, who likewise was ignorant of the escape 
 of Dossonville, sick at heart, passed the day in the 
 room of Goursac, mourning the fall of the Revo- 
 lution of Ideas. Louison, alone of all the court, 
 ventured out, bringing back such tales of the fe- 
 rocity of Ja vogues that Goursac in his anger 
 vowed that he would strike him down. The day 
 was pervaded with the stillness of night. ' Across 
 the roof arrived the faint traveling cries of vic- 
 tims ; beyond that, the air was empty. 
 
 188
 
 GOURSAC AS ACCUSER 
 
 After three days of butchery, came the reaction. 
 The assassins, after slaughtering indiscriminately 
 women, children, old men, priests, forgers, and 
 other criminals, blinded with lust of blood, hurled 
 themselves on La Correction, where the children 
 of the people were confined, maltreated and 
 covered with vermin. Thirty-three were led out 
 and put to death. 
 
 Then at last Paris revolted. The Commune, 
 itself horrified, rose up and ended the slaughter. 
 On all sides the nursed wrath of the people ex- 
 ploded in cries of vengeance, as they thronged to 
 the section-halls with angry denunciations and 
 demands for prosecution. 
 
 After two days of fever and stupor, haunted by 
 visions of the mocking face of Louison and of 
 Barabant, Nicole made an effort, and rising from 
 her bed, set out for the section-hall in the com- 
 pany of Genevieve. When they had entered 
 the hot, choked hall and had taken seats, they 
 found Goursac at the tribune stirring the as- 
 sembly with pictures of the massacre of wo- 
 men and children. The audience, relieved of 
 its personal fear, vented its anger in wild cries 
 for vengeance. Goursac, having demanded the 
 arrest and condemnation of the Terrorists, de- 
 scended. 
 
 Across the boisterous hall Nicole beheld, with 
 189
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 a sudden thrill, Barabant springing impetu- 
 ously to take his place. But as he reached the 
 tribune and turned to address the crowd, her 
 eyes, which had followed his every movement, 
 were distracted by a violent interruption at the 
 entrance. A cry of indignant anger exploded from 
 the crowd, a cry of despair from Genevieve, whose 
 fingers buried themselves in Nicole's arm; and Ni- 
 cole, seeking through the overheated, clamorous 
 atmosphere, beheld, flanked by two companions, 
 the wild figure of Javogues. 
 
 The crowd, taken unawares, remained vacil- 
 lating; while the Marseillais, confident of his re- 
 ception, advanced, and lifting his hideous arms, 
 shouted : 
 
 " Citoyens, behold the blood of traitors and 
 rejoice ! " 
 
 No answering shout was returned. 
 
 " Citoyens, France has been purged of its ty- 
 rants ! " 
 
 Nicole, shrinking from the horror of the Mar- 
 seillais, was yet fascinated by his scornful courage. 
 
 For a moment the individual dominated the 
 mass, as yet divided, awaiting the moment that 
 should produce its leader. From somewhere in 
 the back came the answer : 
 
 " And La Correction ? Is the blood of chil- 
 dren also on your arms *? " 
 
 190
 
 GOURSAC AS ACCUSER 
 
 At this solemn denunciation, Javogues, for the 
 first time realizing his danger, drew back a step, 
 seeking the speaker in the craning of the 
 crowd. 
 
 " Butcher ! look this way ! It is I the Cit- 
 oyen Goursac who challenge you." 
 
 With a sweep of his arms, Goursac freed him- 
 self and began a zigzag descent down the benches 
 toward his enemy, pausing at every step to cry : 
 
 " Butcher ! Assassin ! Cutthroat ! " 
 
 Javogues, watching his approach, was at first 
 too astounded to gather his senses ; but when 
 Goursac, piercing the last rows, emerged with 
 accusing finger, Javogues advanced a step and 
 closed a hand over his knife. 
 
 The mass, watching every motion of these 
 two men, with one movement of its hundred 
 arms loosened its weapons. The action unified 
 it. It became an organism, hostile, menacing, 
 and alert for the first outburst. 
 
 Goursac, gathering anger as he advanced, cried: 
 
 " Assassin of children ! butcher of women ! 
 murderer ! cutthroat ! do you dare to show 
 yourself in this assembly *? " 
 
 Javogues's answer was lost in the clamor. 
 From all quarters arrived the accusing question : 
 
 " La Correction *? La Correction ? " 
 
 " I was not at La Correction ! " Javogues thun- 
 191
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 dered above the tumult. "There is no blood of 
 children on these arms." 
 
 " And of women *? " Goursac caught up. " If 
 you say those arms have not been stained with 
 the blood of women, I tell you, you lie ! " 
 
 Javogues snatched up his cutlass, but, chang- 
 ing his tactics, appealed to the assembly : 
 
 " Hear me ! " 
 
 From all sides they cried angrily : 
 
 " No ! no ! " 
 
 " I demand the right of speech." 
 
 " No ! no ! " 
 
 " Hear him ! " Barabant cried from the tribune. 
 " Condemn no man without hearing him." 
 
 Nicole, with a swift premonition of an over- 
 hanging vengeance, started to cry : 
 
 " No, Barabant, no ! " 
 
 But Genevieve, entwining her arms about her, 
 besought her, crying : 
 
 " Mercy, Nicole, mercy ! I love him ! " 
 
 At points in the crowd others caught up Bara- 
 bant's cry, until, after five minutes of fury and 
 storm, the noise dwindled and went out. 
 
 Javogues, facing his accusers, returned his 
 weapon to his belt, spread his legs as though to 
 withstand the impending shock, folded his arms, 
 and ran his eye over the banks of his enemies. 
 
 " Citoyens, I have answered that I was not at 
 192
 
 GOURSAC AS ACCUSER 
 
 La Correction. You ask me if on these arms 
 there is the blood of women. This is my answer : 
 I do not know ! " 
 
 " He mocks us ! " 
 
 " Insolent ! " 
 
 "Liar!" 
 
 " Impostor ! " 
 
 "This is the blood of traitors," Javogues cried 
 when the outburst had subsided, " and that is all 
 I know. Traitors have no sex. When I see a 
 traitor, I do not stop to ask if it be man, woman, 
 or child, old or young! A traitor is a traitor! 
 Were the mother who brought me forth or the 
 child of my flesh to conspire against the Nation, 
 I would strangle them with these my own 
 hands !" 
 
 Again the clamor rose to drown his words, but 
 this time Goursac, rushing from side to side, 
 shouted : 
 
 " Let him continue ! Let him continue ! " 
 
 " Of what I have done I am ready to give an 
 accounting," Javogues continued disdainfully. 
 " At the prison of Les Carmes, my hatchet sent 
 down to Hell the soul of that arch-conspirator 
 Dulan." He lifted his arms. " That is the blood 
 these arms bear, and I glory in it. At the Ab- 
 baye, I myself purified the Nation of five traitors. 
 At La Force " 
 
 193
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 But from the angry crowd rose the cry : 
 
 " Enough ! Enough ! " 
 
 One voice, deep and rumbling with an accent of 
 doom, made itself heard : 
 
 " We give the right of speech to a citoyen to 
 defend himself, not to a criminal to recite his 
 crimes ! " 
 
 Goursac, mounting to the tribune, secured a lull. 
 
 " You have recited these executions," he cried, 
 addressing Javogues. " By what authority did 
 you constitute yourself a judge ? " 
 
 Javogues, opening his arms, said : 
 
 " By the authority of popular justice." 
 
 " Where is your warrant '? " 
 
 The Marseillais did not answer. The section, 
 seeing where he was being led, kept an intense 
 silence as Goursac's voice, rising in denunciation, 
 continued : 
 
 "You admit these deaths. You claim popu- 
 lar authority. Show us your warrant from any 
 popular body, from any section, and you march 
 from here unmolested." 
 
 Javogues, turning to his companions, said in a 
 low tone : " Save yourselves. I remain." The 
 two moved but forward to his side. 
 
 The eyes of the assembly were on Goursac, 
 who, white with the intensity of his passion, 
 slowly stretched forth his finger : 
 
 194
 
 GOURSAC AS ACCUSER 
 
 " Well ? " He waited a moment, his figure 
 rigid in denunciation. "No answer*? Then I 
 pronounce, before this assembly, that you have 
 lied ! I here declare that what you have done is 
 not the work of a judge, but of a murderer ! That 
 when you declared you acted by popular author- 
 ity, you slandered the Nation, and tried to fasten 
 on it the stain of your guilt and the odium of 
 massacre ! " Then assembling all his powers, he 
 shouted at the top of his lungs, " Slanderer of the 
 Nation ! " 
 
 He turned to the section. 
 
 " Citoyens, these are the vipers that assail every 
 life. No one of us is safe. They threaten the 
 Assembly. They do not conceal their desire for 
 its massacre. But to-night we hold one, this 
 monster, this scum of the earth. We hold him, 
 self-confessed and convicted. Citoyens, I declare 
 to you we shall be guilty of cowardice if we now 
 allow this monster to live another day ! " 
 
 " Aye, to prison with them ! " 
 
 " A la mort ! A la mort ! " 
 
 " A la guillotine ! " 
 
 Above the confusion one shrill voice rose vic- 
 torious, bearing the final decree of the mass. 
 
 " No, citoyens ! A la lanterne ! A la lanterne! " 
 
 The next moment all other cries were swal- 
 lowed up in the wild outburst : 
 
 195
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " A la lanterne ! " 
 
 A hundred hands were stretched out to grasp 
 the Marseillais, when Barabant, to the despair of 
 Nicole, flung himself in front of Javogues, and 
 with appealing arm sought to be heard. But the 
 torrent he faced was relentless. He saw nothing 
 but open mouths, clenched fists, black brows ; pis- 
 tol, knife, and hatchet tossing above the surge of 
 arms. His friends thundered in his ear: 
 
 " A la lanterne ! " 
 
 Those in the back, climbing on the benches, 
 bellowed down : 
 
 " A la lanterne ! " 
 
 From the tribune, frenzied and tefrible in his 
 anger, Goursac whipped on the tempest : 
 
 " A la lanterne ! " 
 
 Barabant, with all effort of his lungs, could not 
 utter a sound against the storm. Those that 
 were near shouted to him : 
 
 " Barabant, do not balk us ! " 
 
 " Barabant, look out for your own neck ! " 
 
 All at once, through the crowd, the terrified 
 figure of Nicole struggled toward him. She 
 flung herself to his side, catching him violently 
 by the shoulders, panting and hysterical. 
 
 " Barabant for my sake Barabant for 
 your own safety Barabant if you believe in 
 a woman's premonitions, do not save that viper!" 
 
 196
 
 GOURSAC AS ACCUSER 
 
 He shook his head and firmly but gently put 
 her from him. The girl, covering her face with 
 her hands, yielded to her despair and fell back 
 into the crowd ; while Barabant, never flinching, 
 fought the uproar until he forced the frantic 
 audience to listen. 
 
 "This man," he cried at last, above the per- 
 sisting clamor " this man is guilty ; he should 
 die ! " The uproar broke out afresh. " He has 
 put human beings to death without authority 
 from the people. He must die ! " 
 
 " A la lanterne ! " 
 
 " Listen ! " 
 
 " Shut the doors ! Lock the doors ! " 
 
 " But, citoyens," Barabant burst out, " neither 
 have we the right of death. Denounce him, 
 arrest him, but obey the law. Respect the law; 
 respect justice. Citoyens, I demand the arresta- 
 tion." 
 
 The shouts rose in conflict. 
 
 "No! no!" 
 
 "Yes! yes! yes!" 
 
 "Death to him!" , 
 
 " Arrest him ! " 
 
 " Hang him ! " 
 
 " The law ! The law ! " 
 
 The mob was divided, threatening to clash 
 and annihilate itself. The result was a dozen 
 
 197
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 times in doubt, but after half an hour of lull and 
 tumult the verdict was for the course of the law. 
 Barabant again mounted the tribune and put the 
 resolution of arrest. 
 
 Javogues and the two Marseillais were led 
 away; the storm rolled out; the hall emptied; 
 a few loiterers straggled down the benches, staring 
 at Nicole, who, exhausted, sobbed on the shoulder 
 of Goursac : 
 
 " What a mistake ! What a mistake ! " 
 
 Barabant, leaving the tribune, approached his 
 friends. Now that the passions of the moment 
 were cold, he began to doubt the wisdom of his 
 act. 
 
 " I could not help it, Nicole," he said, moved 
 by her utter grief. " It was right, Goursac, was 
 it not?" 
 
 Twice he repeated the question without suc- 
 cess ; nor did the other answer until they reached 
 the Rue Maugout. Then, at length, his bitter- 
 ness broke through. 
 
 " Barabant," he cried, " I will say but one thing : 
 my life is on your head." 
 
 " That is absurd," protested Barabant. " Ja- 
 vogues is in prison. He will be condemned." 
 
 " He will not remain there one hour ! " Gour- 
 sac replied curtly ; but conquering his dejection, 
 he extended his hand. "Barabant, I know you 
 
 198
 
 GOURSAC AS ACCUSER 
 
 meant well but you made a mistake. Re- 
 member what I say ! " 
 
 " Meaning I have betrayed you ? " 
 
 Goursac made no answer. 
 
 Barabant, turning brusquely, repeated the 
 question : 
 
 " Citoyen, did I do wrong *? " 
 
 "Barabant, my young friend," Goursac an- 
 swered, avoiding the question, "when I meet a 
 snake, I do not stop to ask if it is another's 
 property ! " 
 
 " Then I was wrong ? " 
 
 " If Javogues loses his neck and we keep ours, 
 no. If Javogues keeps his " 
 
 He rubbed his own solicitously, it being un- 
 necessary to complete the sentence. 
 
 By six o'clock the prophecy of Goursac was con- 
 firmed, and the inhabitants of the Rue Maugout 
 learned, without astonishment, that Javogues had 
 been liberated and was in hiding. 
 
 199
 
 XV 
 
 LOVE, LIFE, AND DEATH 
 
 FROM above there came the shrill, rebellious 
 cry of a woman. Below, in the court, the 
 tenants were gathered, seeking refuge from the 
 heat of the night. A few lights upon the sheer 
 walls and the faint glow of the descended moon 
 illuminated the dim groups : the men against the 
 wall, the women clustered in the center. The 
 cry was repeated, rising shriller. From the wall 
 the exclamations arose : 
 
 " It is n't gay ! " 
 
 " Sangdieu, two in a week ! There 's no peace 
 left!" 
 
 " Eh, citoyen, if we 're to fight all Europe, we 
 must have soldiers ! " 
 
 A peddler, a transient from la Mere Corniche's 
 cellar, added in high tones : 
 
 " Thank God, just the same, we 're men ! " 
 
 The crones listened critically, without emotion, 
 resuming their old wives' tales when the cry had 
 ceased. Once a child, more keenly responsive 
 
 200
 
 LOVE, LIFE, AND DEATH 
 
 to suffering, burst into a frightened whimper; 
 but the mother, with an exclamation of im- 
 patience, sprang up and with a slap silenced the 
 child, crying : 
 
 " Little brat, who told you to do that ! " 
 
 Under the torch that lighted the entrance to 
 the stairs the ghoulish figure of la Mere Cor- 
 niche hobbled forth, returning from her inspec- 
 tion. 
 
 " Well, what news ? " a voice cried. 
 
 " Eh, it '11 be all night now," she answered 
 peevishly. " I 'm going to get some sleep." 
 
 The women, hearing this, broke up and de- 
 parted to their rooms; the men began to grumble: 
 
 " What the devil 's to be done ? " 
 
 " I 'm for the cabaret." 
 
 " You can't stay here." 
 
 " There 's no sleep to-night. Come on to the 
 cabaret." 
 
 *' You '11 join us, Citoyen Goursac ? " 
 
 *' No ; I 'm remaining here." 
 
 " And you, Citoyen Barabant ? " 
 
 " I also." 
 
 " Morbleu, you 've strange tastes ! " 
 
 They shuffled away, leaving Barabant and 
 Goursac, with their backs to the maple-tree, in 
 possession of the empty darkness. 
 
 Presently lights began to splotch the walls, and 
 
 201
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 at the windows appeared the silhouettes of femi- 
 nine forms, while a running comment resounded : 
 
 " Where are the men *? " 
 
 " Gone to the cabaret, probably." 
 
 " They are, if my man 's among them." 
 
 " They 're all weak-kneed." 
 
 " The cowards ! " 
 
 The cry of the woman returned. 
 
 " A'ie, what lungs ! " 
 
 " I yelled so, the police came up." 
 
 " You were right." 
 
 " Pardi ! " 
 
 " Let 's hope she '11 give us some rest." 
 
 " Amen ! " 
 
 The lights, one by one, flattened into the dark- 
 ness. A single window, under the eaves, con- 
 tinued bright, from which ever descended the 
 cry of battle. 
 
 " Does that affect you ? " Goursac asked, fol- 
 lowing the momentary shadows across the panes. 
 
 " I don't like to hear it." 
 
 "You get accustomed to it, as to all things. 
 Tiens! I was forgetting. I heard to-day that 
 Dossonville had escaped." 
 
 " Absurd." 
 
 " They said he had been seen with Louison." 
 
 " But Nicole says she saw him cut to pieces." 
 
 " Then doubtless it was a mistake." 
 
 202
 
 LOVE, LIFE, AND DEATH 
 
 " No news of Javogues ? " Barabant took up. 
 
 " None." 
 
 " That makes three days. You see, he 's left 
 the city." 
 
 " I doubt it." Goursac added after a moment : 
 " I '11 tell you something curious. You know 
 Genevieve ? " 
 
 " That child who lives with Nicole ? " 
 
 "She 's in love with him." 
 
 " What ! that little ogre ? " 
 
 " Eh, the ogre has the spark of the woman in 
 her ! " He jerked his head toward the lighted 
 window. " Who 's with her? " 
 
 "Nicole and Genevieve." 
 
 " Much good it '11 do them." . 
 
 "Hanh?" 
 
 " Good night. I 'm going to philosophize ! Are 
 you staying *? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Scarcely had Goursac departed before the 
 form of a young girl emerged from the stairs, and 
 Nicole's voice said softly : 
 
 " Barabant, are you there ? " 
 
 " Here I am." 
 
 He sprang eagerly to meet her, but Nicole, 
 retreating before the decisive word, hastened to 
 say: 
 
 "Poor girl, it is not going well. Genevieve 
 203
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 is staying with her. Have you been waiting 
 long?" 
 
 " I ? No. I was talking with Goursac. He 
 has just left." Barabant, determined to bring 
 matters to an issue, added relentlessly, " I was 
 just leaving for the cabaret." 
 
 " What ! you were not waiting for me ? " 
 
 " I could not count on your coming." 
 
 Nicole's eyes filled with tears, and, unable any 
 longer to bear the unequal contest, she cried 
 bitterly : 
 
 " Barabant, you are cruel ! " 
 
 " I *? " he answered, with a last effort. " I 
 who have offered you everything ? I whom you 
 will not believe when I tell you I love you *? " 
 
 " I do ! I do ! " 
 
 Barabant, no longer resisting her weakness, 
 cried: 
 
 " But I adore thee, Nicole. I am out of my 
 mind with love for thee ! " 
 
 He seized her in his arms and kissed her on 
 the cheeks, on the forehead, on the wet eyelids, 
 with all the overpowering, reason-consuming 
 flame of love. 
 
 She withdrew from his grasp, and looking him 
 anxiously in the face, said : 
 
 "You thought me heartless and capricious, 
 did n't you ? " 
 
 204
 
 LOVE, LIFE, AND DEATH 
 
 " I have forgotten." 
 
 " But you did." 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 "Ah, Barabant, it was because I loved thee 
 that I avoided thee." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 His face expressed so much bewilderment that 
 Nicole passed her hand gently over his eyes. 
 
 "No, that thou wilt never understand. If I 
 could only tell thee how I love thee ! " She 
 wanted him to know the deep maternal longings 
 that he had stirred within her, but all she found 
 to say was, " I feared to love thee too much, 
 and so I fought against myself." Then, with 
 the first awakening of coquetry, she nestled on 
 his shoulder and said confidently, "Forgive 
 me." 
 
 " But why ? Why? " 
 
 " It absorbed all that was in me, and I was 
 afraid." 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 She did not want to tell him of her doubts, so 
 she said : 
 
 "Women have foolish ideas, Barabant; you 
 must not try to understand them." 
 
 She joined her arms around his neck and laid 
 her head upon his shoulder. Suddenly the silence 
 was rent by the inexorable cry. In the heart of 
 205
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Nicole something penetrated like a knife. She 
 began to tremble. 
 
 " Why do you shake so ? " he asked. 
 
 " It is from joy." 
 
 " You love me so, then ? " 
 
 When the silence returned, she said : 
 
 " Barabant, promise me but one thing." 
 
 " I promise it." 
 
 " When the day comes that you are leaving 
 me for another woman, tell me first." She added 
 low, as though she did not want him to hear: 
 " I can kill myself without seeing her in his 
 arms ! " 
 
 Barabant, recoiling before such a picture of 
 the future, cried from the bottom of a heart of 
 pity: 
 
 " Never ! Never ! " 
 
 "No I could not leave thee, even so," she 
 said, weeping herself at the thought she had 
 conjured. " Let me always be thy servant. I 
 am only an ignorant girl, not fit to be thy com- 
 panion. Let me take care of thee, though, what- 
 ever happens ! " 
 
 " No, never that ! Never ! Nicole, it is for 
 life, forever ! " he cried with the sincerity of the 
 moment, which is the sincerity of the lover. He 
 was young, generous, quick to pity, and he 
 adored her. " You do believe me ? " 
 206
 
 LOVE, LIFE, AND DEATH 
 
 "Almost." 
 
 He redoubled his protestations, while Nicole, 
 laughing through her tears, cried gaily : 
 
 " Go on, Barabant. It is good to hear. Don't 
 stop more, more ! " At last she herself ar- 
 rested his protestations : " Yes, Barabant, I be- 
 lieve thee. Oh, anything you can say to me I '11 
 believe at this moment ! " 
 
 " That I want thee while I live *? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Forever ? " 
 
 " For ever." She drew herself up to his lips. 
 " I have been so miserable waiting for thee." 
 
 Their lips met and they stood in the darkness 
 as one body, while above, unheeded, from the 
 darkness broke out the cry of life and death. 
 
 " Thou wilt not leave me, Nicole, again, neither 
 now nor ever ? " 
 
 " Do I not love thee ? " she said simply. 
 
 They passed from the shadow and moved, 
 tightly enlaced, through the dim region of the 
 dwindling torch, slowly up the steep, hard steps 
 into the enveloping darkness beyond. Again 
 was lifted up the cry of anguish and rebellion, 
 the cry of Prometheus, heritage of woman, and 
 again came silence. 
 
 207
 
 PART II 
 
 (One Year Later)
 
 FAMINE 
 
 ON the first day of September, 1793, Nicole 
 left the Rue Maugout with the intention 
 of visiting the Convention. Her step, that a year 
 ago would have been confounded with the hum of 
 life, now echoed down the quiet streets without 
 interruption. Her eye, that once flashed so 
 alertly through the curious crowd, passed with 
 the indifference of habit down the deserted vista, 
 and returned into the fixity of mental abstraction. 
 The passers-by were rare; those who hung on the 
 windows screened themselves. At a few door- 
 ways groups of emaciated children watched her 
 progress, eyeing her basket with wolfish eyes. A 
 year had brought but slight change in her. She 
 still retained the bloom of youth, but her glance 
 was more pensive. She was no longer gipsy or 
 girl. A certain thoughtfulness had succeeded, 
 elusive and arch, that told of the awakened ima- 
 gination. 
 
 Twice on her way a band of police envelop- 
 
 211
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 ing a prisoner passed, as passes a whirlwind 
 over the stretches of the desert. Nicole gave 
 them but a casual glance ; such of the inhabitants 
 as the familiar fall of feet brought to the win- 
 dows retired indifferently, the prisoners them- 
 selves stoically adding their resignation to the 
 monotony of the scene. 
 
 On the thoroughfares knots of Tapedures, the 
 ruffians of the Terror, became frequent, stalking the 
 town, beating the streets for their human game. 
 Occasionally she met a bill-poster affixing the lat- 
 est decree of the Republic violent notes, in blue, 
 violet, yellow, or red, that splashed the walls on 
 every side. About the bakeries and butcher-shops 
 knots of beggars were assembled, often reclining 
 on the ground, watching with dreary, troubled 
 glances those havens of food, ready to battle for a 
 scrap of refuse. 
 
 A mother from a distant quarter, drifting from 
 shop to shop, halted before such a group with a 
 timid inquiry. From the loiterers, watching with 
 confident indifference, a hag, extending her shriv- 
 eled arm, shouted sarcastically : 
 
 *' Welcome, citoyenne. You want something 
 to eat ? Take it ; take it. We are so tired of eat- 
 ing meat in this section nothing but beef and 
 mutton and venison and pheasants here, morn- 
 ing and night. We get tired of that sort of 
 
 212
 
 FAMINE 
 
 thing in the end, you know. You were right 
 to come here; see how well fed we are, how 
 sleek ! Don't believe him, his cellars are full of 
 meat. It 's rotting away. No one to eat it ! " 
 
 From the fasting hags a rumble, rather than a 
 laugh, went up. The woman who had covered 
 perhaps half of Paris melted into a storm of 
 sobs, beseeching a crust or a bone for the sake of 
 her children. Then the hag, her raillery chang- 
 ing to anger, burst out : 
 
 " And we, have we no children *? Are we not 
 mothers, too *? Hark to the woman : she thinks 
 she 's the only one to be pitied ! Be off! Leave 
 us in peace with your eternal wailings ! " 
 
 At other times, women from the quarter itself, 
 returning from a scouring of the markets, would 
 awaken a sudden flame of interest. 
 
 " What luck ? " 
 
 " What did you get ? " 
 
 "Bread?" 
 
 " Meat ? " 
 
 The scouts always denied success. Then a 
 chorus arose : 
 
 "She 's hiding it !" 
 
 " Show us your basket ! " 
 
 " Eh, and under your dress ! " 
 
 Once, in the Rue St. Honore, a slip of a girl 
 had almost freed herself of the questioning crowd, 
 
 213
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 when a lean dog with a sharp nose bounded, 
 sniffing, to her side. There was a quick turning 
 in the crowd, and the nearest woman, leaping to 
 her feet, shouted hysterically : 
 
 " I smell dried fish ! " 
 
 The next moment, up the street a scuttling 
 speck fled before a frenzied cloud from which 
 shot out white arms and grasping hands. 
 
 Through such mad scenes of famine, Nicole 
 arrived at the Hall of the Convention; where, 
 being early, she entered the Tuileries to await the 
 arrival of Barabant. 
 
 The gardens that once resounded with the hum 
 of life, that once were gay with the swish of many 
 colors, were now brown with the uninterrupted 
 stretch of earth, rustling with the pervading sigh 
 of leaves. Already in the trees, in the air, and in 
 the tired soil was the melancholy of the parting 
 season. Each breath that disturbed the branches, 
 however slightly, set free a caravansary of flutter- 
 ing leaves, and the leaves were sear. 
 
 She seated herself on a bench and abandoning 
 the basket and clasping her knee, watched the 
 whirling leaves heap themselves about her feet. 
 One or two poised on her shoulder, in her hair, 
 without her heeding them. Presently Goursac, 
 also on his way to the Convention, joined her. 
 
 " ^This is the work of the cursed Montagne ! " 
 214
 
 FAMINE 
 
 he said grimly, viewing the desolate gardens. 
 "And yet Javogues is not satisfied. He would 
 turn it into a cemetery! " 
 
 " Listen, my friend," she said earnestly. " If 
 the Girondins fall, you will not stay to sacrifice 
 your life to Javogues ? " 
 
 "Do you think that I, a Girondin, would fly 
 from that rascal ! " he cried indignantly. " He 
 works in the dark ; he is incapable of striking in 
 the open." 
 
 " And if the Girondins fall ? " she persisted. 
 But he refused to entertain the suggestion. 
 
 " This reminds me," he said, with a sweep of 
 his arm, " of the time we were here a year ago. 
 Do you remember ? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Well," he said brusquely, " are you happy? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " As happy as you thought *? " 
 
 " No," she said slowly, " but it is my fault. 
 The fault of my position, if you wish. I am 
 jealous ! " 
 
 "Of Louison?" 
 
 " No ! Of what may happen." 
 
 " Why should n't he- marry you ? " he said 
 angrily. 
 
 " Because I have not asked him," she answered 
 wearily. " And because I would not have it." 
 
 215
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I love him, my friend," she said in 
 rebuke. "And because a waif of the streets does 
 not marry a man of education and position un- 
 less she wishes to drag him down." 
 
 Goursac, to her surprise, leaned over and 
 patted her hand; then, as though ashamed to 
 have shown such tenderness, he added gruffly : 
 
 " That is the only thing that can make you 
 happy." 
 
 She did not deny it. 
 
 " I know what you have passed through." 
 
 She shook her head incredulously. 
 
 " It is but the history of womankind," he said 
 laconically. 
 
 She took a leaf that had fallen on her hair and 
 tore it slowly to shreds. 
 
 " Yes," he continued, warming to the subject, 
 "you but resume in a year what woman has 
 struggled for throughout the centuries. What 
 is marriage but the instinct of self-preservation *? 
 Who imagined the bond ? The weaker being, 
 woman ; and all the advances up the social scale 
 have resulted from her silent striving toward 
 equality with man. Without marriage you are 
 a slave at the mercy of an angry word or a 
 hostile mood; a slave who, in her search for 
 security, must learn, without tears or show of 
 216
 
 FAMINE 
 
 fatigue, to render herself indispensable to the 
 man." 
 
 Nicole rose abruptly, frowning, and with ner- 
 vous fingers ; but immediately she reseated her- 
 self with a forced laugh. 
 
 Presently, seeing that he had said more than 
 he should have, he withdrew, leaving her im- 
 mersed in the reverie his words had awakened. 
 
 Goursac had guessed truly. What woman- 
 kind has endured, she had begun from the bottom. 
 The instinct of self-preservation within her had 
 awakened the immense intuitions that in the 
 silent, enduring conflict of the sexes alike direct 
 the wife, the mistress, and the outcast. She 
 had studied Barabant, seeking the needs of 
 his temperament, discovering his faults, and lead- 
 ing him to gradual dependence on her. Her 
 imagination awoke. She saw the peril of mere 
 domestic companionship. Where at first she had 
 belittled the force of passionate love, she had 
 come to realize its necessity and the need of 
 constantly provoking his curiosity. She hid her 
 thoughts from him, making of herself a mystery, 
 employing that coquetry which, to the seeing 
 eye, has at the bottom nothing but pathos. She 
 had loved as a child. She had become an actress. 
 
 But in her heart of jealousy and doubt she 
 knew well all her artifices could avail no longer 
 217
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 than her youth. In marriage alone was peace 
 and security. The daring of the thought frightened 
 her. She knew it to be beyond her lot, nor in 
 her devotion to Barabant would she have it so, 
 but each day the dream returned, as from a pit 
 one sees a star, or from a wreck the beacon on 
 the forbidden shore. 
 
 Barabant found her lost in reverie, the leaves 
 again unnoticed on her shoulders. 
 
 " The effect is pretty," he said, smiling down 
 at her. 
 
 " On whom the leaves fall and rest, the earth 
 will fall before the year is out," Nicole said. 
 " That 's the superstition." 
 
 " Nicole, I forbid you to say such things," he 
 cried sharply. " They hurt me, and you know 
 it!" 
 
 Satisfied with this evidence of his affection, she 
 sprang up, brushing away the leaves, and saying 
 with a smile : 
 
 " There, they have no power now." 
 
 "You are early." 
 
 " Yes ; I was a little melancholy ; I wanted to 
 reflect. The gardens are delightful for that." 
 
 " I do not find them so." 
 
 " The mood is gone, now that you are here." 
 She took his arm, smiling up into his face. They 
 strolled through the alleys of chestnut and maple, 
 218
 
 FAMINE 
 
 Nicole drawing her skirt across her, placing her 
 feet daintily, shaking her head in pretended anger 
 as from time to time a leaf fluttered against her 
 cheek. 
 
 "And the Girondins, mon ami? You have 
 told me nothing of them." 
 
 " It grows worse and worse for them. The 
 Jacobins are relentless." 
 
 " Don't identify yourself too much with them, 
 then." 
 
 " But that is cowardice." 
 
 "No. If the Girondins fall, all the more will 
 the Nation need the Moderates," Nicole answered 
 anxiously, for her one dread was of his impulsive 
 nature. " Why play into the hands of our ene- 
 mies ? " 
 
 Leaving the gardens, they entered the Place 
 de la Revolution. The vast square that had 
 swarmed with the multitude on the day of the 
 execution of the king was devoid of movement, 
 except where a few curious, wandering toward the 
 emplacement of the absent guillotine, streaked 
 like insects across the placid .expanse. 
 
 Nearing the plaster statue of Liberty, Nicole 
 was attracted by the lank figure of a man. 
 
 " Look over there," she said, drawing Bara- 
 bant's attention. " Would n't you say that it 
 was Dossonville *? " . 
 
 219
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " There 's a little resemblance." 
 
 " Much." 
 
 Barabant, who continued to study the figure, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Really, the resemblance is striking ! " 
 
 At this moment the man, turning, disclosed in- 
 deed the familiar features, while the well-known 
 voice cried : 
 
 " Mordieu ! It is Nicole and my little orator 
 Barabant ! Well, what 's the matter ? Touch 
 hands ! " 
 
 For Nicole, with a movement of superstition, 
 had crossed herself, while Barabant, stock-still, re- 
 mained Staring stupidly at the apparition, until 
 he was able to blurt out : 
 
 " What, it is you ! Then you 're not dead." 
 
 " Not even once ! " he cried, slapping his hand 
 emphatically across his chest. " I give you my 
 word, it is not true ! Come, feel of me. Is this the 
 arm or the chest of a specter *? " 
 
 " Still, I saw you," exclaimed Nicole, unable to 
 reconcile the fact to her memory "I saw you 
 at the gate of the Abbaye " 
 
 " My dear girl," Dossonville responded, with 
 much good humor, " believe me, I am not dead ; 
 and, what 's more, I never have been dead that I 
 remember." 
 
 "But " 
 
 220
 
 FAMINE 
 
 " Mordieu, Nicole ! are you determined to ex- 
 terminate me ? " Dossonville cried. " Let us 
 reason. You saw me at the gate, but you did n't 
 see me cut down, did you *? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then I reject your theory." 
 
 The three burst out laughing, until Dosson- 
 ville suddenly exclaimed : 
 
 " But come, Louison must have told you." 
 . " Louison ! " echoed Barabant and Nicole, 
 more and more amazed. 
 
 " Extraordinary woman ! She can even keep a 
 secret then ! " Dossonville cried. " Why, it was 
 Louison who found me in the crowd ancl piloted 
 me to safety." 
 
 He recounted shortly the events of his escape, 
 adding, as he extended his arm in a sweeping em- 
 brace of the horizon : 
 
 " And here I have lain concealed. I don't say 
 where; the'secret is too good. For ten months I 
 lay like a rat. For the last two I have gone out 
 only after midnight. To-day is the first trip into 
 the blessed sun." 
 
 " Do you dare to risk it even now ? " Barabant 
 cried. 
 
 "Yes, now. Everything is arranged," he an- 
 swered carelessly. " It was a little long coming, 
 but it came." 
 
 221
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 But suddenly Nicole, remembering, exclaimed: 
 " Barabant, you must warn him that Javogues is 
 back." 
 
 "Back!" Dossonville repeated. "When did 
 he leave ? " 
 
 Barabant, in his turn, recounted the arrest and 
 disappearance of the Marseillais, concluding : 
 
 " He reappeared with the rise of the Terror- 
 ists." 
 
 " Ai'e, aie ! " Dossonville cried, having fol- 
 lowed the recital with interest ; " I cannot say that 
 the situation is pleasant for the Citoyen Gour- 
 sac." 
 
 A shadow passed over the brow of the young 
 man, and he answered bitterly : 
 
 " I was a fool. We should have crushed the 
 monster when we had him." 
 
 " There 's good in him." 
 
 "What! You say it?" 
 
 " He wanted to cut my throat," Dossonville 
 replied ; " but that 's nothing. He is sincere. 
 It is true, from his point of view, there are not 
 three men who should be alive in France to-day; 
 but that is only a prejudice. I am keeping you ; 
 where are you bound ? " 
 
 " To the Convention." 
 
 " Always a Girondin ? " 
 
 " Well," Barabant answered doubtfully, " the 
 
 222
 
 FAMINE 
 
 Girondins had their chance, and they could not 
 control the Convention." 
 
 " I say it 's their own fault if they fall," Nicole 
 interjected hastily. 
 
 "Nicole, you are right," Dossonville replied. 
 " Moreover, they are about to lose their heads." 
 He drew his finger across his neck. " In a po- 
 litical party, that 's a grave failing." 
 
 " What, guillotine the Girondins ! " Barabant 
 exclaimed. " Guillotine Vergniaud, Brissot, 
 they would never dare ! " 
 
 " Bah! you look upon it too seriously," Dosson- 
 ville retorted. " What is the guillotine *? Sim- 
 ply a vote of censure. But Louison where can 
 I find her?" 
 
 "At the Pretre Pendu," Nicole answered. 
 " You '11 find her there about noon. That is, if 
 there is no execution this afternoon." 
 
 " The Pretre Pendu ? Don't know it." 
 
 " It opened lately in the Rue Maugout, oppo- 
 site No. 38." 
 
 "You call it " 
 
 " The Pretre Pendu." 
 
 " Charming ! " 
 
 " I warn you, Javogues will be there." 
 
 " You are positive *? " 
 
 " Absolutely." 
 
 ** Good. Then I '11 set out at once." 
 223
 
 II 
 
 DOSSONVILLE EARNS A KISS 
 
 DOSSONVILLE, taking the river bank, pro- 
 ceeded with many inquiring halts, inhaling 
 the air and sunshine in full breaths. He strolled 
 into the halles, where the stalls, in state of siege, 
 extended in long, deserted barracks; no buying, 
 no selling, no provisions, only in the shadows the 
 same clusters of limp basking beggars, slumber- 
 ing with one ear alert. \ 
 
 As he languidly pursued his way, a door at 
 his side was flung violently open and a man 
 bearing on his back an enormous side of beef 
 scurried across the place toward a butcher-shop, 
 the door of which swung open to receive him. 
 Instantly, with a hue and cry from every corner, 
 there was a swift leaping of famished men, 
 women, and children. Before Dossonville could 
 leap aside he was caught in the rush, elbowed, 
 buffeted, and thrown off his feet. When again 
 he rose, the butcher was buried under a mound of 
 ravenous humanity, thirty feet from his destina- 
 224
 
 DOSSONVILLE EARNS A KISS 
 
 tion, while the square was obscured with the mul- 
 titude that battled over the shreds of meat which 
 came up from the bottom of the heap. 
 
 Hardly had he extricated himself from the 
 tangle when, in the Place de la Bastille, a group 
 of savage boys, pursuing a dog with a bone, swept 
 by him, snatching at the fleeing animal, un- 
 mindful of its anger. One hand at last, more 
 fortunate than the others, closed over the brute, 
 and the human children tore the bone from the 
 beast. Pursuing now a haggard boy, they re- 
 turned in a cloud, panting, with famine-inflamed 
 eyes, while the lean, infuriated brute at their 
 heels struck with angry jaws into the pack. 
 
 Beset on every side by troops of children too 
 weak to extend their hands, Dossonville arrived 
 at the Rue Maugout, readily recognizing the 
 Cabaret of the Pretre Pendu by its figure of a 
 priest, which, swinging from a miniature gibbet, 
 advertised the republican principles of the host. 
 
 Seeing no one before the entrance of No. 38, 
 he penetrated into the inner room of the cabaret, 
 where, the two or three groups occupied with 
 cards being unknown to him, he exchanged salu- 
 tations with the hostess, asking genially : 
 
 " Your husband, citoyenne, I hope, is frying 
 me a bit of steak ? " 
 
 " My man 's with the army." 
 15 225
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " A patriot, then." 
 
 " And there 's no meat." 
 
 " An omelet will do." 
 
 " No eggs, no fish, no vegetables." 
 
 " Diable ! that leaves nothing but bread and 
 cheese." 
 
 " No bread, no cheese ! " 
 
 " Mordieu, what am I going to lunch on *? " 
 
 " Soup." 
 
 " Ah ! " Dossonville nodded, with understand- 
 ing. "True! As long as the material world 
 exists, soup is possible. Well, soup be it, cito- 
 yenne, soon and hot." 
 
 He passed curiously to the card-players, for 
 his ear had caught such strange expressions as 
 these : 
 
 " I play the Liberty of Marriage." 
 
 " I the Genius of Peace." 
 
 " The Equality of Rank." 
 
 " Liberty of the Press." 
 
 " Taken by the Genius of Arts." 
 
 Dossonville, much perplexed, moved to a sur- 
 vey of the pack. He found the Monarchs in- 
 deed dethroned; the Kings succeeded by the 
 Geniuses of War, Commerce, Peace, and the 
 Arts; the Queens replaced by the Liberties of 
 Faith, Professions, Marriage, and the Press. The 
 Knaves themselves, as though suspected of roy- 
 226
 
 DOSSONVILLE EARNS A KISS 
 
 alistic tendencies, had yielded to the Equalities 
 of Duties, Color, Rights, and Rank. 
 
 " The sentiment is perfect," he murmured to 
 himself, " perfect, but perplexing." 
 
 The hostess appearing with a capacious bowl, 
 he returned to his corner, where he contemplated 
 the soup with that respect and curiosity which a 
 Parisian gives to a dish of which he has not had 
 the making. He stirred it doubtfully, and at 
 the first taste drew a long face. 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieu ! They Ve put the aristo- 
 crats in the soup," he grumbled. " However, 
 being good patriots, we must eat it." 
 
 He was bending over the bowl, when a shadow 
 darkened the open doorway, and with the fra- 
 grant scent of flowers came the voice of Louison, 
 chanting : 
 
 " Cockades, patriots; cockades, my Sans-Cu- 
 lottes. The last ones I have been able to save 
 for you." 
 
 She passed among them, calling to them by 
 name, tapping them on the shoulders, but re- 
 ceiving nothing but banter, 
 
 " Are they good to eat your cockades ? " 
 
 "As a salad, nothing is better." Taking up 
 the idea, she repeated laughingly : " Buy my 
 salads, citoyens ; buy my patriotic salads ! " 
 
 Wishing to enjoy her surprise, Dossonvilie 
 227
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 kept silent, leaning forward, his chin in his 
 palm, smiling expectantly. Thus Louison dis- 
 covered him. The very slightest look of aston- 
 ishment passed over her face, a fugitive amaze- 
 ment that she immediately controlled. 
 
 "Louison, you are discretion itself," Dosson- 
 ville said approvingly, his smile extending to a 
 grin as he stretched forth his hand. " If ever 
 the Revolution places women in power (and 
 what is impossible to-day*?), I '11 recommend 
 you for Minister of Foreign Affairs." 
 
 " Citoyen, citoyen, you are mad to enter this 
 place," Louison cried. " Do you not know that 
 this is the headquarters of Javogues ? " 
 
 " I know it ; but see you, Louison, that ani- 
 mal is so stupid." 
 
 Divining that despite his careless manner he 
 was fortified against the encounter, she relaxed 
 and said more calmly : 
 
 " Really, I did n't expect that you 'd escape." 
 
 " My dear Louison, it is not so difficult." 
 
 " In these days it is." 
 
 " A man has as many lives as a cat," he said 
 ironically. " It is the imagination that is lacking." 
 
 As though to put this theory to the test, a 
 voice jarred upon the stillness, crying : 
 
 " Where is the spy ? " 
 
 The next instant the cabaret was thrown into 
 228
 
 DOSSONVILLE EARNS A KISS 
 
 turmoil as Javogues, at the head of three or four 
 companions, rushed in. 
 
 " Good day, citoyen," Dossonville's cool voice 
 was heard saying above the uproar, "and how 
 goes it with you since we parted last ? " 
 
 Guided by his voice, Javogues precipitated 
 himself toward his enemy, but as his hand shot 
 forth it stopped in mid-air, and he fell back in 
 astonishment. 
 
 Dossonville, never losing his poise, with an 
 imperceptible movement of his hand had rolled 
 back the lapel of his redingote, disclosing on his 
 breast the shield of an agent de surete. 
 
 " Impossible ! " Javogues exclaimed, recoiling. 
 " You an agent de surete ! It 's a counterfeit ! " 
 
 Dossonville checked the second rush as coolly 
 as the first. His hand went into his breast 
 pocket and withdrew a document, which he ten- 
 dered to Javogues on the tips of his fingers, say- 
 ing : 
 
 " Read, and grow wise." 
 
 The Marseillais passed it to a companion, 
 who shook his head and passed it to a third, who 
 read in a piping voice : 
 
 OFFICE OF THE COMMITTEE OF SAFETY 
 The Citoyen Santerre having appeared before us and estab- 
 lished the alibi of the Citoyen Dossonville on the day of the 
 Tenth of August, we declare the Citoyen Dossonville innocent 
 229
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 of all suspicion. Furthermore, as it appears he refused to disclose 
 the nature of the secret mission, in the interests of the Nation, on 
 which he was engaged, even at the risk of his life, we declare the 
 Citoyen Dossonville a patriot who deserves the gratitude of his 
 country. 
 
 We further appoint the said Citoyen Dossonville agent de 
 surete, with the following powers 
 
 ** The rest is quite technical," Dossonville in- 
 terrupted. He turned to Javogues, who, thus 
 robbed of his dearest vengeance, remained trans- 
 fixed with stupor. " You see, Citoyen Javogues, 
 you cannot always tell a traitor by the look in 
 his eyes." 
 
 Stung by the taunt, Javogues advanced furi- 
 ously : 
 
 " It 's a lie," he cried. " It 's another of his 
 tricks. The paper is a forgery." Then turning 
 to his companions, he shouted : " Don't let him 
 out of your sight until I return ! " 
 
 Dossonville, erect and solemn, checked him 
 sternly : 
 
 " Enough ! Enough, citoyen, do you hear *? 
 What you have done I forgive but go no 
 further! An act such as you contemplate is a 
 defiance of the Nation. I represent the Nation. 
 Citoyen Javogues, I warn you, at the next at- 
 tack you make against me I '11 have you on the 
 scaffold within twenty-four hours." 
 230
 
 DOSSONVILLE EARNS A KISS 
 
 Javogues, impressed despite himself, found no 
 encouragement in the faces of his comrades. He 
 turned on his heel and went dejectedly toward 
 the door. There he wheeled, and shaking his 
 fist, cried : 
 
 " Dossonville, if I am not to hate you, arrest 
 me, guillotine me at once. For, as long as I 
 live, it is war between you and me ! If you 
 want me, you '11 find me here, at five." 
 
 Dossonville remained a moment pensive and 
 erect. 
 
 " Mordieu ! " he exclaimed at last, " the fellow 
 is genuine. Devil take me if I can help liking 
 him." Then turning to Louison, who had fol- 
 lowed him with fascinated eyes, he said : " As 
 for you, ma belle, I owe you everything. To 
 begin with, I swear an eternal love." 
 
 And, taking her in his arms, he kissed her on 
 the cheek, and then sat down. 
 
 In a moment the room was swept of its terri- 
 fied guests, while the proprietress, disappearing 
 through a back door, left the memory of a red 
 stocking. 
 
 Louison, at the familiarity, recoiled, while 
 anger like a blast from an oven inflamed her 
 face. Her hand stole to her bosom, and with a 
 sudden movement she hid a knife behind her. 
 Dossonville, feigning ignorance, appeared en- 
 231
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 grossed in the selection of a cockade from the 
 abandoned basket. But as the girl in her pas- 
 sion leaped at him, he sprang aside, whipped 
 out his sword, and flung himself behind a table. 
 
 Then, those without, flattening their noses 
 against the window or peering through the door- 
 way, beheld a furious combat between them ; the 
 man, always cool and alert, checking the rushes of 
 the girl with the point of his sword, turning, re- 
 treating, or advancing as his assailant, with the 
 rapidity of a bird, flew from point to point, dart- 
 ing, feinting, or striking for an opening. Mean- 
 while above the scuffle and the patter of feet the 
 voice of Dossonville rose imperturbably in run- 
 ning comment : 
 
 " Hoop-la, parried ! A little more to the left 
 and you had me. Mordieu, who 'd have thought 
 a pretty woman would resent a kiss? Such a 
 fraternal kiss, too, so full of gratitude ! Perhaps 
 that 's the trouble; you never can tell with a 
 woman. What now ? " 
 
 Bounding on the table, the girl without a 
 pause leaped full at him. 
 
 " Bravo ! That 's a jump for you. What a 
 woman! Louison, you are splendid. Dame, what 
 fury ! A toi ! " 
 
 Hard pressed with the recklessness of her at- 
 tacks, he threatened her throat so closely that, 
 
 232
 
 DOSSONVILLE EARNS A KISS 
 
 with the slightest stiffening of his arm, he would 
 have run her through. 
 
 " A life for a life ! there 's gratitude for you ! " 
 
 From outside they cried to him offers of help. 
 
 "Never; any man that interferes, I '11 shoot 
 down. This little affair is between us, eh, 
 Louison ? What now ? " 
 
 He sprang away, barely avoiding a chair hurled 
 to break down his guard. 
 
 " That was well imagined. Mille diables, 
 what a woman and not a sound ! Louison, I 
 adore you already. Louison, my dear, do you 
 believe in another life? If you would only 
 guarantee me another, I 'd give you this out of 
 courtesy, only then I could n't adore you. 
 What energy ! If you are getting tired, Louison, 
 rest a while." 
 
 But her answer was to fling herself again at 
 him, seeking to come inside his guard by stoop- 
 ing suddenly to one side, grasping at his blade 
 with her free hand. Dossonville, forced to meet 
 the fury of the onslaught, a second time presented 
 the point of his blade to her throat; but this 
 time, so impetuous was her rush that only the 
 instant withdrawal of the weapon saved her. 
 
 " A second time, Louison, I spare you. My 
 gratitude, you see, is eternal. Louison, you fight 
 too recklessly, you expose yourself. You rely 
 
 233
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 too much on my sense of gratitude. Hoop-la ! 
 Again I had you ! If it 's only a matter of a 
 kiss that stands between us, you might give it 
 back to me. Ha, ha ! Well struck, Louison ! 
 Where will it end ? My gratitude restrains me, 
 and you must realize what a good fellow you are 
 trying to end " 
 
 Suddenly, to the astonishment of all, Dosson- 
 ville included, Louison halted, panting and heav- 
 ing, restored the knife to her bosom, and burst out 
 laughing. 
 
 " Dossonville," she cried, flinging out her hand 
 in acclamation, " you 're a man ! " 
 
 He dropped on both knees, exclaiming : " That 
 word disarms me. Do me the favor of cutting 
 my neck." 
 
 With a movement as swift as her attack, the 
 girl passed to his side, and, bending suddenly, 
 kissed him on the forehead. 
 
 " That one, Dossonville," she cried, " you have 
 deserved." 
 
 And with a laugh, she flitted into the street, 
 where the spectators, respecting her sudden 
 whims, prudently left her an open passage. 
 
 2 34
 
 Ill 
 
 WAITING FOR BREAD 
 
 IN this season of famine, when the supply of 
 bread barely sufficed to feed one half of the 
 population, by six o'clock in the evening long 
 lines began to form in front of the bakeries, to 
 await through the long night the morning dis- 
 tribution of loaves. Javogues, who took the 
 occasion of this assembling to study the crowd 
 for signs of traitors or faint-hearted republicans, 
 returned each evening, toward five o'clock, to 
 the Pretre Pendu in a gale of patriotic ferocity. 
 
 But this afternoon, to the astonishment of those 
 who were accustomed to quail before his glance, 
 his lagging step, his knotted club trailing at his 
 heels, and his head relaxed on his shoulders gave 
 every appearance of dejection. At the Pretre 
 Pendu he sank gratefully into a chair, covered 
 the table with his arms, and plunged moodily 
 into his thoughts. 
 
 Presently, arm in arm, bristling with weapons, 
 in villainous shoes wound about with strips of
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 rags, appeared three Tapedures, Cramoisin the 
 mountebank, Boudgoust the waiter, and Jam- 
 bony the crier, thrown together by the strange 
 tides of the Terror. In the middle, Boudgoust 
 strode with hang-dog head, as though his height 
 had overshot his strength. The shriveled, fur- 
 tive mountebank clung to one arm, while at the 
 other waddled the bloated, leering cub of the 
 gutters. So tightly huddled were they that they 
 seemed one unclean body with three heads an 
 incongruous union of malignant age, stultified 
 manhood, and vicious, insolent youth. 
 
 Perceiving Javogues silent and absorbed, they 
 slackened their pace, and Boudgoust said cau- 
 tiously : 
 
 " Cramoisin, he 's still in bad humor." 
 
 " It 's that cursed Dossonville, my little Boud- 
 goust. If it worries him, why does n't he get rid 
 of him?" 
 
 " Javogues 's the devil when aroused," Boud- 
 goust continued apprehensively. He turned to 
 the boy : " Jambony, throttle that voice of a 
 carriage-crier and speak softly. It might be best 
 to slip away." 
 
 But Javogues, lifting his head, beckoned 
 them. 
 
 " Well, watch-dogs, what luck ? " 
 
 Cramoisin and Jambony looked to Boudgoust, 
 236
 
 WAITING FOR BREAD 
 
 who turned his pockets inside out, showed the 
 flat of his palms, and answered : 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 "An unfortunate day for all of us," Ja- 
 vogues said gloomily, and relapsed into bitter 
 reflections on his encounter with Dossonville. 
 
 *' What luck ! " exclaimed Cramoisin. " We 
 escaped easily. Suppose we eat something." 
 
 Jambony opened his mouth, and the voice, 
 trained to rise above the jargon of the street, 
 resounded from one end of the street to the 
 other. 
 
 "Food!" 
 
 The invariable bowl of soup and a bottle of 
 thin wine were placed in front of each. Boud- 
 goust, whose appetite was in proportion to his 
 length, accomplished his portion in one swallow, 
 and being thus reduced to philosophizing, ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " All citoyens should be made to eat together." 
 
 "Nothing new there," Cramoisin interjected 
 querulously. " We have the Fraternal dinners, 
 have n't we ? " 
 
 "That amounts to nothing," Boudgoust re- 
 torted. He leaned his elbows on the table, 
 scratching the back of his hands as he talked : 
 " But every day, every meal. That 's democracy ! 
 Or, better, no citoyen to eat more than another ! 
 
 2 37
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 If I saw any one eating meat to-night I 'd arrest 
 him. All citoyens should share alike." 
 
 Jambony, having now emptied his bowl, de- 
 clared in his stentor's voice : 
 
 " And I am for equality of dress. No distinc- 
 tion between citoyens on account of dress ! A 
 national costume one for the men and one for 
 the women ! " 
 
 Presently, while he launched into the details 
 of his scheme, a raven, with a croak and a flap 
 of its wings, hopped from the gloom of the op- 
 posite entrance, followed by the diminutive figure 
 of la Mere Corniche, who, giving a nod of under- 
 standing to the four, installed herself on a stool 
 and began to knit. 
 
 " There 's one who 's no Girondin," Boudgoust 
 grunted. 
 
 " She 's a tiger since the death of Marat," 
 Jambony remarked in a thundering whisper. 
 " She was very devoted. They say " 
 
 And he proceeded to detail one of those fan- 
 tastic tales which the Parisian playfully attributed 
 to any woman, were she eighty or eighteen. 
 
 Cramoisin, having caressed the last drop in his 
 bowl, now exclaimed : 
 
 " Jambony, you are tiresome, you and your 
 national costume. You go half-way. What we 
 must restore is the primeval innocence ! " As he 
 238
 
 WAITING FOR BREAD 
 
 spoke he pressed a flat thumb on the table, while 
 from under his eyebrows shot the shrewd dagger 
 glances of the madman. " The primeval inno- 
 cence there only is the truth ! Nothing but 
 that can restore republican simplicity. No clothes 
 at all ! A return to the simplicity of Adam and 
 Eve the true, the real republicans ! There 's 
 something that would be sublime ! " 
 
 "Aliens, Cramoisin, you have too much van- 
 ity ! " Boudgoust replied. 
 
 "Yes, he wants to display his beauty," put 
 in Jambony, who retained the spirit of raillery 
 gathered at the doors of the theater. " We know 
 that trick, old fellow." 
 
 Cramoisin was beginning a furious answer when 
 Javogues, turning impatiently, demanded the 
 hour. 
 
 " Close to seven." 
 
 " They come later every night," Javogues 
 grumbled. He rang the table with his fist. " Per- 
 haps they think they can hide their guilty faces 
 in the dusk ! " 
 
 Presently, from the entrances, people with bas- 
 kets began to appear, directing their way toward 
 the Bakery Gobin, a rod below, to take up the 
 vigil that consumed the night. 
 
 Those who passed the Pretre Pendu waited 
 anxiously their welcome from the mouth of Ja- 
 
 239
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 vogues, whose salutations varied according to his 
 estimate of their patriotism. 
 
 " Greetings, patriots." 
 
 " Greetings, citoyens." 
 
 " Greetings." 
 
 To some he simply nodded in return. Occa- 
 sionally he stiffened and, without recognition, 
 fastened his scrutiny on the eyes of a new arrival, 
 as though to tear away the mask and wrench 
 forth the secret. 
 
 Marching purposely toward them, looking 
 Javogues disdainfully in countenance, came 
 Goursac. So implacable were the glances the two 
 enemies exchanged that they seemed to clash 
 midway in the air. Arrived within ten feet of 
 the group, Goursac turned curtly on his heel and 
 departed toward the bakery without having rec- 
 ognized them by word or nod. The Tapedures 
 cursed; Javogues, following him with his glance, 
 muttered: 
 
 " Sacre ! Girondin, wait a little longer! " 
 
 Several women passed, among them Nicole, 
 who received a friendly greeting from Javogues, 
 Boudgoust commenting : 
 
 "Fine woman that, Cramoisin, for all you 
 say ! " 
 
 Cramoisin scowled for an answer, following the 
 girl with a glance of implacable hatred. 
 240
 
 WAITING FOR BREAD 
 
 " Eh, yes," Jambony added, sinking his voice. 
 " As for me, if it were n't for Javogues I 'd not 
 keep her long chained up to that cursed Bara- 
 bant." 
 
 " Barabant/' growled Boudgoust, " is an indul- 
 gent. He is forever talking of mercy." 
 
 " He who speaks of mercy in these days," cried 
 Cramoisin, purposely raising his voice, "is in 
 league with aristocrats. He should be de- 
 nounced." 
 
 Javogues turned angrily : 
 
 " Enough ! Barabant is a patriot. I know it ! " 
 
 Boudgoust, who disliked quarrels, interrupted : 
 
 " Hello, who 's this brat ? " 
 
 A girl of six or seven was approaching, carry- 
 ing in her arms a stool. 
 
 Javogues, at once suspicious, stopped her. 
 
 '* Who sent you out, my little one ? " 
 
 " Papa." 
 
 " And who is your father ? " 
 
 " The wig-maker there," she said, showing the 
 shop with her small finger. " He 's coming to 
 take my place later." 
 
 " Ah, your papa is a good Royalist." 
 
 The child, frightened by his looks,- remained 
 twisting from side to side, while Javogues, soften- 
 ing his voice, repeated the question. 
 
 The child shook her head. 
 16 241
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " What does he say of us ? " It was Boud- 
 goust who put the question. 
 
 " Don't know." 
 
 " But he suffers much with this famine, does n't 
 he ? " suggested Cramoisin, slyly. 
 
 "Oh, yes," she answered, the innocent face 
 brightening. " Papa says we suffer more now than 
 before." 
 
 Cramoisin, triumphant and smiling, drew back; 
 the child toddled on. 
 
 "Ah, Citoyen Flaquet," Javogues cried in 
 triumph, " who does n't dare pass us in the day- 
 light and who regrets the royalty, we hold you 
 at last ! " 
 
 Among the next to leave No. 38 was a girl of 
 sixteen, who, in greeting Javogues, faltered a 
 little in her walk. It was Genevieve, suddenly 
 blossomed into a woman. Her eyes, that for- 
 merly were too black and large on her sallow 
 face, were now in fair relief to her cheeks, that 
 had flushed with the glow of womanhood. She 
 moved lightly, and even the carelessness of her 
 dress could not conceal the full figure, erect and 
 flexible. The four men watched her pass on 
 and take her place in the lengthening line. 
 
 " The best of the lot ! " Cramoisin said. 
 
 " She was ugly enough last year," Boudgoust 
 replied. 
 
 242
 
 WAITING FOR BREAD 
 
 " She was not a woman then," retorted the 
 other, who seized the opportunity to broach his 
 favorite theory. " Women, they 're good enough 
 in their places. They 're put here to give men 
 to the world. I believe in the community of 
 women. No marriage. Women discriminate 
 according to a man's being old or ugly or poor. 
 All discrimination is unrepublican. There 
 should be no distinctions." 
 
 " Yes, my old fellow, but halt there," Jambony 
 said impudently. "No community of men." 
 
 " Why not <? " 
 
 " You 'd fall to the lot of la Mere Corniche." 
 
 Cramoisin angrily resented the interruption. 
 He passed to the sociological aspect of the re- 
 form, and declared that with the Nation battling 
 against all Europe such a measure was needed 
 to fill in the gaps of war. Other bottles were 
 brought and torches. 
 
 Below at the bakery, two torches disclosed the 
 undulations of the monstrous queue, but the 
 faces and the outlines of the figures were con- 
 founded in the night. Sometimes a brief song 
 would mount up, a few whispered communica- 
 tions could be heard, and the steady snoring of a 
 sleeper. 
 
 From there, in the narrow circle of light un- 
 der the figure of the priest, which swung in 
 
 243
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 grotesque outlines, the four Tapedures could be 
 seen, drinking and discussing. At times their 
 voices, impassioned and drunken, reached the 
 line, the high pitch of Cramoisin crying: 
 " Primeval innocence ! community of women ! " 
 or the bellow of Javogues, "There is no God!" 
 as the four, without listening to one another, 
 debated furiously their sublime ideas. 
 
 From time to time others arrived through the 
 darkness, relieving those in line. Toward mid- 
 night Barabant replaced Nicole. Several of the 
 new arrivals were fresh from cabarets; many of 
 those whom no one relieved began in drunken 
 boisterousness to scream upon the night ribald 
 songs and jests, foul anathemas of the party in 
 disfavor. 
 
 The noise of kisses and tipsy laughter became 
 frequent. The women and children, accustomed 
 to the scene, retired under shawls and sought to 
 efface themselves against the chilly walls. Some 
 women, more vicious than their mates, joined in 
 the drunken carnival, which toward three o'clock, 
 when the torches dropped back into the night, 
 knew no bounds. And all the while, amid this 
 licentiousness, muffled or in brazen outcry, the 
 line asleep or cringing, whispering or ribald, 
 waited stolidly for the dawn. 
 
 Shortly after three, Javogues and his body- 
 244
 
 WAITING FOR BREAD 
 
 guard quitted the cabaret to make the rounds. A 
 single torch held aloft by Boudgoust lit up the 
 huddled queue. They passed down the line, Jam- 
 bony and Cramoisin embracing the women, Ja- 
 vogues compelling all to cry "Vive la Nation!" 
 and " A bas les Indulgents ! " As luck would have 
 it, Cramoisin perceived the face of Genevieve, 
 which, in her curiosity, she momentarily displayed. 
 
 The drunkard flung himself forward and seized 
 her in his arms. She defended herself furiously, 
 averting her face, resisting all his efforts to drag 
 her into the street; until Cramoisin, getting his 
 arm around her waist, wrenched her forth scream- 
 ing in her terror : 
 
 " Citoyen Javogues, Citoyen Javogues, protect 
 me ! Don't let him take me, Citoyen Javogues ! " 
 
 Javogues, recognizing the voice, ran up. 
 
 *' Who 've you got there *? " 
 
 " Don't you see I 've got a woman ? " Cramoi- 
 sin said surlily. He added an obscenity that 
 caused the girl, in despair, to exclaim : 
 
 " Oh, Citoyen Javogues, save me, save me ! " 
 
 " None of that," Javogues cried angrily. " Let 
 her go." 
 
 As the drunken Cramoisin started to protest, 
 with a blow of his fist he knocked him down. 
 Genevieve, carried down in the fall, flung herself 
 at the feet of Javogues, grasping his knees.
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Thanks, thanks," she cried hysterically. 
 " Citoyen, you are good, you are kind ! " 
 
 Then fearing to become too prominent, she 
 hurried to her place, enveloping her head with 
 a shawl and crouching back into the friendly 
 obscurity. 
 
 Cramoisin, whimpering, disappeared; Ja- 
 vogues, Boudgoust, and Jambony reeled away. 
 Fatigue stilled even the noisiest. The night was 
 achieved in sleep. 
 
 Toward six the line roused itself, as two in- 
 spectors of the municipality arrived to preside 
 over the distribution of the bread. The doors 
 were opened and the frantic rush began, those in 
 the rear crowding forward with frenzied inqui- 
 ries, which changed into the familiar shrieks of 
 despair when the doors were closed with a third 
 of the line unserved. 
 
 Genevive, who had received her maximum of 
 bread among the last, avoided the outstretched 
 hands of the unsuccessful and escaped up the 
 street, to where la Mere Corniche, at her post, 
 exacted a tithe from each lodger. Dropping her 
 tribute in the basket, she was hastening on when 
 the concierge retained her with the cry : 
 
 " The Citoyen Javogues wants you." 
 
 Thinking that it was to fetch water from the 
 Seine, the girl sought her bucket and hastened 
 246
 
 WAITING FOR BREAD 
 
 to the room of the Marseillais. At the sight of 
 the bucket, Javogues frowned and asked : 
 
 " What are you doing with that? " 
 
 " Don't you want me to fetch water ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Ah." 
 
 " Leave the bucket in the corner." 
 
 Genevieve obeyed. Javogues shut the door, 
 returned, and frowned again as he saw that she 
 was trembling. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " he said roughly. 
 " Why do you tremble ? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Are you afraid of me ? " he said, advancing. 
 
 " Oh, no." 
 
 " Then what is it ? " 
 
 "I 'mglad that 'sail." 
 
 " True ? " 
 
 All at once the girl, flinging herself at his feet, 
 caught his hands and cried : 
 
 " I love you, I love you, I love you ! " 
 
 "What, me ! " Javogues cried, amazed, retreat- 
 ing a step. " You love me ! " 
 
 " I adore you. I think of nothing but you. 
 You are my god ! " 
 
 " There is no God ! " 
 
 " Yes, when one loves." 
 
 "Then you love me it 's true?" he said, 
 
 247
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 raising her to her feet. "Why do you love 
 me?" 
 
 "Why?" She drew a long breath. "You 
 are so big, so heroic ! " 
 
 Javogues fell back into a chair, repeating : 
 " Extraordinary ! I don't understand." 
 She threw herself into his arms with the move- 
 ment of a child, and, without seeking to conceal 
 her thoughts, repeated a hundred caresses while 
 he continued to mumble stupidly : 
 " Extraordinary ! Extraordinary ! " 
 Finally her emotion penetrated him. He took 
 her in his hands and held her from him, she col- 
 oring with pleasure at this show of force, which 
 came to her as a caress. 
 
 Suddenly a tremor ran through his immense 
 body, an upheaval out of which came something 
 gentle and softened. He continued to hold her 
 before him, without shifting the glance that 
 plunged into her eyes, while the girl, turning in 
 his grasp, repeated, " Let me go ! " for, child that 
 she was, she divined what was passing in him. 
 
 "But why," he repeated stupidly "why do 
 you love me? I don't understand. No other 
 woman ever has." 
 
 "Because you are so heroic. All the others 
 understand nothing of poverty and sorrow. You 
 you understand. You give hope to such as 
 248
 
 WAITING FOR BREAD 
 
 I. When I hear you speak those sublime 
 thoughts, my heart swells. You too have suf- 
 fered ; you know the abyss." She added, not 
 without elation : " I loved you from the first day. 
 I never thought you 'd notice me." 
 
 "It 's true really true, then what you say 
 to me ? " 
 
 For all answer she looked at him and smiled. 
 
 " It 's curious. I don't understand it," he said 
 at last. " But I believe I 'm beginning to love 
 you." 
 
 Then, without quite knowing why, she lowered 
 her eyes. 
 
 249
 
 IV 
 
 SIMON LAJOIE 
 
 THE inhabitants of the Rue Maugout, as- 
 tounded by the sight of Genevieve arm 
 in arm with the overshadowing Javogues, had 
 not recovered from the shock of this evidence of 
 human feeling in their tyrant when the next day 
 brought them a further surprise. 
 
 Toward five in the afternoon Dossonville, with 
 the evident purpose of impressing his enemies by 
 a new accession of strength, made his appearance, 
 with a body-guard of two. The onlookers, en- 
 joying the amazement of the Marseillais, were 
 yet themselves astonished and perplexed at the 
 incongruity of the new reinforcement. 
 
 One, short and contracted, gave the impression 
 that by some mysterious settling his head had 
 shrunk on his shoulders, his shoulders had moved 
 toward his waist, and by this gradual process his 
 whole body had been telescoped into his legs. A 
 huge, flattened nose, or rather beak, imposed itself 
 upon the yellowish, parched face and empty 
 250
 
 SIMON LAJOIE 
 
 cheeks, while from two slits under the overhang- 
 ing brows, the half-hidden eyes, without deviat- 
 ing from their forward direction, absorbed the 
 outer world. 
 
 His companion, in contrast to the dragging 
 gait of his fellow, moved in short steps, picking 
 up his feet. The sharp nose, set as close as is 
 possible to the perpendicular, pointed the way to 
 the head, which, set forward on the craning neck, 
 seemed in turn to be running ahead of the frail 
 body. 
 
 Dossonville, with his loose amble and impor- 
 tant tilt of head, gave the cabaret a "Salut!" and 
 continued twirling in his hand for his only 
 weapon an ivory baton a scant two feet in length. 
 Behind him the watch-dogs paused, one grim, 
 taciturn, and furtive, the other loquacious, florid 
 of gesture, and loud, while, as a cur at the ap- 
 proach of a strange dog draws himself up snarl- 
 ing and apprehensive, Javogues and the three 
 half started from their chairs. 
 
 Satisfied with the discomfiture of the Terrorists, 
 Dossonville led his followers to the Place de la Re- 
 volution, where he found the execution over and 
 the crowd, with a scattering hand-clap, dispersing. 
 
 On the terraces of the Tuileries a few specta- 
 tors still lingered curiously, looking down on the 
 scaffold that violently interrupted the peaceful 
 251
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 vista of the woods beyond. Threading his way 
 through the widening network of women, sol- 
 diers, spies, muscadins, and laborers, Dossonville 
 perceived Louison, who, having at last quitted 
 the environment of the scaffold, was returning 
 toward the Cabaret de la Guillotine to dispose of 
 her cockades. 
 
 " Well, Louison," he cried, " you have a bored 
 air! It was stupid this afternoon, then*? The 
 show did hot interest ? " 
 
 " Nothing but a priest to-day all priests die 
 in the same way," she answered. " However, 
 yesterday it was better. They guillotined twin 
 brothers. That was something out of the ordi- 
 nary." She added thoughtfully : " It 's curious 
 how alike men are on the scaffold." 
 
 All at once she perceived the two who had 
 halted obediently at a distance of twenty paces. 
 Dossonville, when her glance had traveled from 
 them to him, and back and forth, in amazement 
 and inquiry, opened his wide mouth and said 
 with pride, indicating them with a flourish : 
 
 "Are n't they darlings, though *? My assistants, 
 my lambs, my watch-dogs ! " 
 
 Louison, seized with a sudden, mad laughter, 
 found a moment to say : 
 
 " Where, please, did you find such a pair of 
 cutthroats ? " 
 
 252
 
 SIMON LAJOIE 
 
 " From the galleys." 
 
 " And you trust them ? " 
 
 " Do you think I 'd trust an honest man ? " 
 Dossonville exclaimed, with a laugh that left the 
 girl in doubt as to his seriousness. " What is 
 an honest man *? A man who has not been suf- 
 ficiently tempted. Give me the rogue every 
 time. Depend on no man until he is a rogue 
 a rogue you hold, by his past. With an hon- 
 est man you are at the mercy of his future." 
 He again designated his assistants. " A word 
 from me would send them to the guillotine. 
 That is the only way to insure tranquillity." 
 
 " That 's a new theory," Louison exclaimed, 
 much amused. "And there is sense in it. 
 What do you call them, your trusty rogues ? " 
 
 " You see the short one with the borrowed 
 legs ? " Dossonville answered proudly. " I call 
 him Le Corbeau, from his beak and blinking 
 eyes. I picked him up in the Cour des Mir- 
 acles, ex-beggar, ex-cripple, ex-thief, hidden in a 
 cellar. I offered him protection from arrest in 
 return for services. He accepted ; I supplied a 
 coat and a hat, and there he is. 
 
 " The other wha stands there shaking in the 
 wind is Sans-Chagrin, ex-priest, recanted and 
 reformed. On the subject of our bargain I say 
 nothing, only that I dispose of his neck as easily 
 
 2 53
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 as mine." Dismissing them by a signal, he 
 took Louison's arm. " Now for us. What do 
 you say to a drop of something in the Rue de 
 Bourgogne ? " 
 
 " I say, on to the Rue de Bourgogne ! " 
 
 At the scaffold they made a detour to escape 
 the contact of blood, which made the place 
 abhorrent and carried on the shoes of those who 
 passed in front of the scaffold the red trail for 
 blocks about. 
 
 Louison, as they went, was crying her cock- 
 ades, when suddenly they were aware of a shrink- 
 ing and a widening in the crowd, and looking up, 
 perceived Sanson, the executioner, and his sons 
 advancing, impassive to all demonstrations. 
 Seized with a mad desire, the girl stepped 
 toward them, crying : 
 
 "A cockade, Citoyen Sanson, a red cockade !" 
 
 The next moment Dossonville had jerked her 
 away. 
 
 " Mordieu, Louison! " he cried angrily. " Why 
 did you do that *? " 
 
 "Why not 1 ?" she said, laughing. "The 
 Revolution has abolished prejudices ! " 
 
 " It cannot change human nature," he retorted. 
 "You can call him Executor of Public Judg- 
 ments, Avenger of the Nation, he is always the 
 executioner." He added frankly, " Louison, ma 
 
 254
 
 SIMON LAJOIE 
 
 belle, there are really moments when you are 
 not human. At an execution you are like 
 granite ! " 
 
 " Very well, do not notice me." 
 
 " That 's easy to say," he grumbled. " Be- 
 sides, I 'm curious." 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
 " Barabant has been telling me about that ex- 
 traordinary mother of yours." 
 
 " Barabant *? " Louison said uneasily. " He 
 does n't like me." 
 
 " I like nothing so well as a mystery," Dos- 
 sonville continued enthusiastically. " I have 
 three plans already to make her speak." 
 
 "Five would do no good." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " She has left for the provinces." 
 
 "Diable!" 
 
 "Besides, I do not care to be mysterious," 
 she said impatiently, "and I do not like to be 
 thought strange." 
 
 " Speak no more of it," said Dossonville, 
 though inwardly relinquishing nothing of his 
 purpose. " In future I '11 consider you only as a 
 commonplace woman." 
 
 Louison regarded him maliciously. 
 
 " Determine that for yourself." 
 
 " Satane" de femme ! " he exclaimed. " I '11 be 
 
 255
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 very careful what I determine. Louison, you 
 are not a woman who can be loved comfortably. 
 I tell it to you frankly. The place seems good ; 
 let us sit down." 
 
 Several nights later, Dossonville, resting on his 
 rounds, was seated at a table in front of the 
 Cafe de Valmy, in the Quartier des Bonnes 
 Nouvelles. The bells had announced the mid- 
 night; from the intersections of the square the 
 streets yawned to him out of the impenetrable 
 darkness. 
 
 For once Dossonville abandoned himself to 
 reverie a mood evoked by the memory of Loui- 
 son. Since his encounter, the mystery of her 
 birth had continually teased his imagination. 
 The terror of la Mere Baudrier when Louison 
 had announced the discovery of her father, and 
 again the mother's strange rendezvous in the 
 Square de la Bastille, suggested such an unusual 
 solution, without offering a clue, that his mind 
 returned again and again to the problem. 
 
 In another corner, Sans-Chagrin, late in his 
 cups, disputed with the host upon the value of 
 religion, while Le Corbeau, who by his silence 
 gained the majority of the decanter, pretended 
 indifference to the discussion. 
 
 " I know what I say," Sans-Chagrin was de- 
 
 256
 
 SIMON LAJOIE 
 
 claiming. " Religion is a farce and the Assem- 
 bly will do well to abolish it!" 
 
 " That is not so certain," objected the listener. 
 
 " It will come." 
 
 "Perhaps" 
 
 " Religion will be abolished ! I know what 
 I 'm saying. I was a priest myself." 
 
 " Come, now ! " 
 
 "True. They expelled me. And why? Why? 
 Tell me that." 
 
 " Out with it." 
 
 " For instituting reforms. Religion is a farce !" 
 
 A woman, scenting a story, issued from the 
 door, and leaning on the shoulder of her husband, 
 said : 
 
 " Come, Citoyen Sans-Chagrin, tell us of that." 
 
 " I reformed the confessional," Sans-Chagrin 
 began querulously. " Aye, and it needed it, too. 
 Every day and every hour I had to be disturbed 
 for a confession. I said to myself, if there 's so 
 much wickedness, it 's because the confessional 
 is n't rigid enough. That 's logical, is n't it ? " 
 
 " And what did you do *? " 
 
 " Only this. I announced that, in future, to 
 avert confusion and to better impress the peni- 
 tent with his crime, I would hear confessions thus: 
 
 "On Monday, all the liars. 
 
 " On Tuesday, all the misers. 
 257
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " On Wednesday, all the slanderers. 
 
 " On Thursday, all the thieves. 
 
 " On Friday, all the libertines. 
 
 " On Saturday, all women who lead bad lives." 
 
 His listeners burst out laughing, while the 
 woman said, " And no one came *? " 
 
 " No one came ! " Sans-Chagrin repeated indig- 
 nantly. " No one came ! And the Church, in- 
 stead of adopting the reform, expelled me. They 
 said I wanted to be rid of confessions. What a 
 farce, my friends, what a mockery ! " He spread 
 out his arms in appeal to their judgment, slapped 
 his chest three times, and fell back loosely in his 
 chair, exclaiming, " Oh, oh, oh ! " 
 
 Dossonville, who had lent a moment's amused 
 attention to this farcical recital, rose and returned 
 to the march, a manceuver which caused Sans- 
 Chagrin and Le Corbeau to choke in their haste 
 to empty the decanter. 
 
 They had gone but a short distance when 
 Dossonville's ear caught the slight rasp of a win- 
 dow opening overhead. Flatteninghimself against 
 the wall, he covered his lantern with his cloak, 
 with a whispered caution to his followers as the 
 window continued to give forth its low complaint. 
 There was a minute's silence, and then it was 
 drawn shut, and the slight click of a bolt was 
 heard. 
 
 258
 
 SIMON LAJOIE 
 
 Hearing nothing further, Dossonville finally 
 resumed his walk, but at the next corner some 
 one muffled in a cloak fell into his arms. 
 
 The man, with a dozen pardons, sought to 
 make a detour, but Dossonville's long arm, shoot- 
 ing out, grasped his shoulder. 
 
 "Not so fast, citoyen. There 's a little for- 
 mality we must not forget. Name and errand ? " 
 
 The stranger, perceiving him neither to be 
 surrounded with pistols and knives nor to have a 
 very threatening air, answered : 
 
 "Citoyen Clappier, Section des Bonnes Nou- 
 velles. I am hurrying to seek a doctor." 
 
 " Show your card of citizenship, and pass." 
 
 " The devil ! " the man exclaimed, after a show 
 of searching in his pockets. " I forgot to take it 
 out of the coat I wore this morning." 
 
 " Really, citoyen, you are in bad luck," Dos- 
 sonville replied. " I shall be forced to accom- 
 pany you." He summoned Sans-Chagrin and 
 Le Corbeau out of the shadow, and gave him 
 into their charge, with a " Lead the way ! " Then 
 he dropped behind, murmuring, "Provided one 
 does not enter that doctor's by the window." 
 
 They journeyed silently for several minutes, 
 until suddenly the three ahead halted, and Sans- 
 Chagrin, returning, said : 
 
 " The citoyen wishes to speak with you." 
 259
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Dossonville, who had expected this denoue- 
 ment, had the prisoner brought to him. 
 
 " Well, citoyen, what is it ? " 
 
 "Citoyen, I ask a moment's private conver- 
 sation." 
 
 " With me ? " 
 
 " With you alone." 
 
 " It is important, then?" 
 
 " Very." 
 
 "Good!" 
 
 Perceiving that their walk had brought them 
 near to their starting-point, Dossonville led the 
 way to the Cafe de Valmy, passing through 
 which, he entered a small room, giving orders to 
 his body-guard to remain without. Then shutting 
 the door, he straddled a chair, rested his arms on 
 the back, and with a smile awaited the opening. 
 
 "Citoyen Dossonville " the man began. 
 
 " What ! You know me ? " 
 
 " For a long time." 
 
 " Indeed ! " Dossonville exclaimed, astounded 
 and nonplussed by this knowledge. 
 
 " Citoyen Dossonville," the man continued, " I 
 ask of you one promise. If I convince you of 
 my patriotism and my citizenship, will you guard 
 my secret *? I ask you as a man of honor." 
 
 Dossonville inclined his head. 
 
 " Agreed. I promise to keep the secret, on 
 260
 
 SIMON LAJOIE 
 
 condition that you convince me of your patriot- 
 ism that is, by showing me your true card of 
 citizenship." 
 
 " That will not be necessary." 
 
 Throwing back his cloak, he removed a wig 
 and mustaches, discovering to Dossonville the 
 features of Sanson, the executioner. 
 
 " Do you recognize me *? " 
 
 At this sinister figure, Dossonville recoiled 
 with a movement beyond his control, but recov- 
 ering, he exclaimed: 
 
 " Pardon." 
 
 " It is nothing," Sanson answered flatly. " I 
 am used to it." 
 
 "Pardon. What surprises me is this," said 
 Dossonville, hiding his own emotion. " That 
 you who have been imprisoned for suspected 
 Royalist interests should expose yourself to sus- 
 picion for any cause." 
 
 " Have you not guessed my errand ? " San- 
 son said, with a frown. 
 
 " Until you disclosed your identity, yes," 
 Dossonville retorted sharply. " But such adven- 
 tures do not necessitate a disguise at one o'clock 
 in the night. Citoyen Sanson, had I met you 
 otherwise, I should have nothing to say; but 
 disguised and under a false name is different. I 
 shall have to report it." 
 
 261
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Sanson reseated himself. 
 
 "For thirty years I have assumed disguises 
 and another name. Do you need to be told the 
 reason? You yourself gave it but a moment 
 ago," he paused, " when you recoiled." 
 
 " I do not understand," Dossonville said coldly, 
 resolved to push him to the end. " Explain fully. 
 If I am to risk myself thus, I must know all." 
 
 "What you cannot understand you cannot 
 understand ! " Sanson broke out irritably, while 
 his eyes sought the face of his captor, doubting 
 the sincerity of the objection. The movement 
 of anger passed; recognizing the peril of his 
 position, he extended his hand and began in a 
 flat, monotonous voice : 
 
 " Citoyen Dossonville, it is disagreeable, but I 
 cannot make conditions. Citoyen, I need not 
 tell you that we have always lived apart from 
 society. As far back as we know, every male 
 of our family, from father to son, has been of the 
 same profession. All others are barred to us. 
 Three have tried to bury themselves in the 
 outer world. They were driven back. Every 
 woman has married an executioner, every man a 
 daughter of one. The office I hold was given 
 Charles Sanson in the year 1688. My grand- 
 father, my father, and myself have inherited it. 
 It will descend from son to son, whether King or 
 262
 
 SIMON LAJOIE 
 
 Republic succeeds. Nothing will ever change 
 that ! " 
 
 He paused a moment in distaste before con- 
 tinuing : 
 
 "When we appear in public, a space is opened 
 to us. We pass in any crowd without touching 
 a shoulder. The poor, to whom we give alms, 
 recoil before our touch. The woman who would 
 speak to us would be cast out, as a pariah. But 
 no woman, recognizing us, would wish to speak 
 to us. We had hoped the Revolution would 
 free us from the universal prejudice vain hope! " 
 Then, as though he had said enough, he broke 
 off acridly : " And yet you cannot understand 
 why I disguise myself? " 
 
 Dossonville, lost in the strange vista which the 
 recital had opened to his imagination, did not at 
 once reply. 
 
 " And you keep the secret from every one *? " 
 he asked at last. 
 
 Sanson, perceiving the question was one of 
 personal curiosity, replied curtly : 
 
 " I have said that no woman knowing us has 
 ever spoken to us. I should have said, except 
 one." He smiled, if the curling of his lips could 
 be called a smile. "A bouquetiere who was 
 with you one day on the Place de la Revolu- 
 tion." 
 
 263
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "The story is on your word alone," Dosson- 
 ville said, irritated by this allusion. " It lacks 
 evidence." 
 
 " Then you do not remember me ? " Sanson 
 said. 
 
 Dossonville, startled at the turn, for a moment 
 lost his self-possession as he strove to penetrate 
 the allusion. 
 
 " Citoyen Dossonville, can you recall the Cafe 
 Procope about twenty years ago, and a certain 
 Simon Lajoie who sometimes played a game of 
 checkers with you in the evening, and who in- 
 spired you with a great deal of curiosity *? " 
 
 " Perfectly," Dossonville replied, staring at him 
 in perplexity. 
 
 " Do you remember that his visits ceased the 
 day your interest prompted you to follow him 
 from the cafe ? " 
 
 " What ! " Dossonville cried, rising, and ex- 
 tending his hand in question. " It was ? " 
 
 " It was I." 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieu ! " 
 
 And falling back, he stared in empty, stupid 
 amazement. 
 
 "Are you convinced ? " 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " I hold your promise ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 264
 
 SIMON LAJOIE 
 
 Sanson readjusted his disguise, while Dosson- 
 ville sought some pretext to retain him and make 
 him talk. 
 
 " Citoyen, one question." 
 
 " Well, what ? " 
 
 " I should like to know," Dossonville said, 
 " does the popular hatred affect you *? " 
 
 Sanson frowned, hesitated, and then answered 
 in two words eloquent with meaning : 
 
 " Not now." 
 
 Then, without offering his hand, he turned, 
 saying peremptorily : 
 
 "Adieu ! " 
 
 Sans-Chagrin and Le Corbeau, who would not 
 have allowed the devil himself to pass without 
 an order, brought him back. Then Dossonville, 
 springing to his feet, cried : 
 
 " Set the Citoyen Clappier free ! The Citoyen 
 Clappier is an industrious patriot ! " 
 
 265
 
 CRAMOISIN PLOTS AGAINST NICOLE 
 
 /^RAMOISIN, since the day of his humilia- 
 V^ tion before Genevieve, had vented his 
 spite on Barabant, seeking thus his vengeance 
 on Nicole. Several times, in measure as the 
 trial of the Girondins neared its end and it 
 became evident that their condemnation was 
 inevitable, he had sounded Javogues on the 
 score of Barabant, only to be repulsed with de- 
 cided negatives. But each defeat, by feeding 
 fuel to his hatred, only increased his determina- 
 tion. Convinced, at length, that nothing could 
 be accomplished for the present through Ja- 
 vogues, he had recourse to la Mere Corniche, 
 hoping to find in her an ally. 
 
 The shrewd little woman was not long in 
 perceiving his intention. So having sufficiently 
 enjoyed his timid skirmishes, she summoned him 
 to her early one morning, after the distribution 
 of bread, and said point-blank: 
 266
 
 CRAMOISIN PLOTS AGAINST NICOLE 
 
 " Out with it. What do you want to say to 
 me?" 
 
 The face of Cramoisin artfully showed surprise. 
 
 "Come, old fellow, let us understand each 
 other. You hate Barabant, eh *? " 
 
 " Barabant is a Girondin," Cramoisin ven- 
 tured, and then, deceived by her mood, he 
 plunged on: "He is a Moderate, a contre-Revo- 
 lutionnaire. He is against Robespierre and the 
 Jacobins." 
 
 "Not a bit," la Mere Corniche interrupted, 
 having now entrapped him. " He is a follower 
 of the great Marat ! " 
 
 " Who are you telling that to ! " Cramoisin 
 cried contemptuously. 
 
 "Hark, old fellow, no airs with me," the 
 concierge retorted sharply. " The Citoyen Bara- 
 bant came here with a letter to Marat. I saw it. 
 As for you, I know what you 're after, my fine 
 patriot, your eyes are on the girl ! " 
 
 Cramoisin, now thoroughly alarmed, sought 
 only to retreat. 
 
 " Never in the world," he cried indignantly. 
 "Come, mother, you must n't wrong a fellow- 
 patriot. I bear no hatred to Barabant. I thought 
 him a Girondin ; he is always with that cursed 
 Goursac. But if you say he 's not, I 'm glad to 
 hear it." 
 
 267
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Oui da, of course you are ! You look it," 
 she retorted scornfully. " Come, get out of my 
 way; leave me in peace, old hypocrite. You 
 don't fool me an instant. Be off!" 
 
 Cramoisin escaped to the cabaret; la Mere 
 Corniche, mumbling to herself, settled back in 
 her chair ; as the distribution of bread ended, the 
 lodgers issued forth with buckets, to get water 
 from the Seine. Resolved to put Barabant on 
 his guard, she had stopped him, when, to her de- 
 light, she perceived Cramoisin disappearing into 
 the cabaret in such pitiful fright that she made 
 a pretext and allowed Barabant to depart, re- 
 solved to prolong for a few days the agony of 
 the terrified bully. 
 
 She began the round of inspection which, at 
 the expense of her strength, she never failed to 
 accomplish each morning. She passed through 
 the empty rooms, scenting and prying, fumbling 
 among papers and garments, viewing one room 
 with a glance, ransacking another for the taint of 
 aristocracy or the earmarks of a traitor. 
 
 Arrived on Barabant's landing, she made a 
 satisfied, careless survey of the room, entering to 
 rest from her labors. On a chair, in a state of 
 mending, was the blue redingote the young fel- 
 low had worn on his arrival. More from habit 
 than from suspicion, she ran her fingers through 
 268
 
 CRAMOISIN PLOTS AGAINST NICOLE 
 
 the pockets, and drew out the paper they en- 
 countered. It was the envelop addressed to 
 Jean Paul Marat. 
 
 She regarded it stupidly, contracting her 
 brows, seeking an explanation, before, with a cry, 
 she tore it open. A sheet, empty and white, 
 slipped to the floor. La Mere Corniche, over- 
 come by the evidence of the duplicity, fell back 
 against the wall. 
 
 It was five minutes before she could realize 
 how she had been duped. Then from the miser, 
 and the devotee of Marat, a long howl of rage 
 broke forth, and clutching the letter, she fell from 
 the landing, rather than descended the stairs, 
 gained her room, and abandoned herself to the 
 transports of her rage. 
 
 A half-hour later she hobbled forth, white but 
 controlled, to the entrance, where, perceiving 
 Cramoisin, she cried with a furious gesture : 
 
 " Come here." 
 
 At this angry summons the Terrorist would 
 have slunk away had not la Mere Corniche cut 
 off his escape, crying : 
 
 "Cramoisin, idiot, imbecile, come here!" 
 
 She seized him, trembling at her tone, and 
 impelled him into the entrance, exclaiming : 
 
 " You hate Barabant ? Answer me, you hate 
 him!" 
 
 269
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "I swear " he began, when she cut him 
 short : " Fool, I despise him ! Do you hear 
 me *? I despise him ! " 
 
 While Cramoisin remained, with gaping 
 mouth, incapable of words, the old woman 
 poured out her reviling. At last he asked, in 
 amazement : 
 
 " What do you want of me ? " 
 
 " I want your help to destroy him." 
 
 " Then why did n't you say so at first 1 ? " 
 
 Fearing to be forced into explanations, she 
 abated her fury and more calmly demanded : 
 
 " You have a plan ; what is it ? " 
 
 " It 's true *? " Cramoisin said, still uncon- 
 vinced. " You '11 join me *? " 
 
 " I swear it." 
 
 "We can't convince Javogues," Cramoisin 
 began, "unless we can make Nicole betray 
 him." 
 
 " But how *? " 
 
 "Jealousy." 
 
 " Jealousy ? Is there cause ? Do you know 
 anything *? " 
 
 " What is necessary we can invent." 
 
 " She won't believe it." 
 
 " She '11 believe it when she hears it from three 
 persons," Cramoisin said, ruffling up his nose 
 and sneering. "A woman '11 believe anything 
 270
 
 CRAMOISIN PLOTS AGAINST NICOLE 
 
 three persons tell her. With Boudgoust and 
 Jambony, we are four." 
 
 " Is that your plan ? " she cried, in disappoint- 
 ment. " It 's stupid, impossible ! " 
 
 Cramoisin continued to argue with her its 
 merits ; she accorded it a grunt, then a shake of 
 the head, and finally said : 
 
 " Well, yes ; it may do. We can try." 
 
 " It 's agreed, then. We must excite her 
 suspicions, but nothing definite." 
 
 " What, are you going to give me instruc- 
 tions ! " la Mere Corniche cried irately. " As 
 though I could n't handle a woman ! " 
 
 " Touch hands, then ; it 's agreed ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You must speak the first word," he said hur- 
 riedly. "It will be better." Shutting off a 
 reply, he departed, leaving the concierge scowl- 
 ing and angry. 
 
 " Oui da, I '11 speak the first word, old schemer. 
 He does n't want the woman to lay it to him, 
 the toad ! " 
 
 The next morning, as Nicole was leaving for 
 the flower-market, la Mere Corniche called to 
 her. 
 
 " Eh, Nicole, stop a moment." The girl, who 
 feared her, approached reluctantly. 
 271
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " You 're going to the market ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " To-morrow is Sunday. I want to put some 
 flowers on the tomb of Marat. See what is going 
 cheap this morning and tell me." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 "You must stop from time to time to give 
 me news," continued la Mere Corniche, taking 
 her hand. 
 
 " You know as much as I do." 
 
 " You sell flowers every day ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Your man does n't earn enough, then ? " 
 
 "With the price of food where it is one can't 
 earn too much." 
 
 "You are happy?" the old woman asked 
 brusquely. 
 
 "Why do you ask that?" Nicole replied, 
 resenting the question. 
 
 "There, don't get angry. You may have 
 friends you don't know of." She released her 
 hand, adding : " If you suspect nothing, I '11 say 
 no more." 
 
 Penetrating readily the stratagem, Nicole 
 laughed over the encounter, and, perceiving the 
 bald attempt to rouse her jealousy, she dismissed 
 the conversation contemptuously from her mind. 
 
 Toward midday, however, the insinuation re- 
 272
 
 CRAMOISIN PLOTS AGAINST NICOLE 
 
 turned, and forgetting her first attitude, she suf- 
 fered a little at the very shadow of what her 
 imagination could conjure up. She ended by 
 again laughing at her simplicity, nor did her 
 mind recur again to the thought during the day. 
 
 That evening, as she passed in front of the 
 Pretre Pendu, she encountered Cramoisin, who 
 watched her from the corners of his eyes, rubbing 
 his splayed thumb over his lip in such an ironi- 
 cal fashion that she stopped and demanded 
 impatiently : 
 
 " Well, what is it ? I seem to amuse you." 
 
 " Eh, perhaps you do." 
 
 " Come, what do you mean by such looks ! " 
 
 Then rising, he looked her a moment in 
 countenance, and replied : 
 
 "Nicole, they told me you were clever." 
 
 " Well, what does that mean ? " 
 
 " It means that you are either very stupid," 
 he said curtly, " or very blind." 
 
 Nicole mounted the steps in perplexity, ar- 
 resting her journey at every landing to ask her- 
 ^self anxiously what he could have meant. In 
 her room she remained blankly at the window, 
 forgetting the meal she had to prepare. Several 
 times she passed her hand across her forehead, as 
 though to rout the unquiet thoughts, but always 
 returned to the same reverie. The church bell 
 
 273 ,
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 ringing five aroused her, and, ashamed to have 
 yielded to such doubts, she said angrily : 
 
 "Come, I 'm an idiot! I '11 tell the whole 
 affair to Barabant when he returns and we will 
 laugh at it together." 
 
 Yet when he entered, her resolution forgotten, 
 she rose quickly, and taking him by the arms, 
 looked anxiously in his face. 
 
 " What is the matter with you *? " he asked. 
 " Why do you look at me so curiously? " 
 
 " I was afraid you would do something 
 rash," she said evasively. " What what of the 
 Girondins ? " 
 
 " It is hopeless. To-morrow they may be 
 condemned." But only half satisfied, he returned 
 to the question. " Was that all you wanted to 
 know *? You looked at me very queerly." 
 
 " I don't doubt it," she said quickly. " Ah, 
 Barabant, I am so afraid that you will com- 
 promise yourself with them." 
 
 " I must decide and you would not have me 
 a coward, Nicole *? " 
 
 She defended her position, she repeated the 
 old arguments, she tried to win him from the 
 thought of sacrifice ; but of what had happened 
 during the day she said not a word. 
 
 " It is getting late," she exclaimed finally. " I 
 must get into line." 
 
 274
 
 CRAMOISIN PLOTS AGAINST NICOLE 
 
 "Let me take the whole night," he pleaded; 
 " you are tired." 
 
 " No, no. Not at all." 
 
 She hurried below, furious at herself for hav- 
 ing betrayed to him her unrest, but when she 
 remembered how instantly he had noticed the 
 strangeness of her look, she could not help think- 
 ing that a little suspicious. 
 
 The next morning she prepared to meet the 
 concierge with a new defiance, but la Mere 
 Corniche did not even raise her head. Cramoisin, 
 to her relief, was absent; only Boudgoust and 
 Jambony were lounging in front of the cabaret. 
 She cast a furtive glance in their direction; they 
 were laughing boisterously. 
 
 "They are laughing at me," she thought, all 
 her doubts returning. 
 
 She passed a miserable morning, tortured by 
 the fears that now seemed always to have been 
 with her. Unable to bear the tumult within her 
 breast, she determined to recount all to Bara- 
 bant. If anything existed, she must know it 
 definitely. 
 
 Unfortunately, the arrival of Dossonville, who 
 joined them at lunch on the boulevards, pre- 
 vented the confidence, and during the meal an- 
 other suggestion added to her suffering. Bara- 
 bant, in speaking of Dossonville's interest in
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Louison, expressed his astonishment at the at- 
 traction, ending peremptorily: 
 
 "As for me, she repels me." 
 
 He had put considerable warmth into his 
 criticism; that and the simple declaration of 
 antagonism made havoc in the imagination of 
 Nicole. She thought the opinion obviously un- 
 necessary. She asked herself if he really were 
 interested in Louison, whom she had always 
 feared, would he not have said exactly what he 
 had. But from logical inquiry she soon flew to 
 conjecture and supposition, to weighing each 
 word and action and seeking a hidden meaning. 
 She thought no longer of confiding in Barabant, 
 but held herself on her guard. 
 
 She was not convinced she but half believed; 
 yet she returned sadly. Her dream was over. 
 Whatever might come, the first breath of jeal- 
 ousy had entered her heart, and, rightly or 
 wrongly, she knew that her tranquillity had de- 
 parted forever. 
 
 276
 
 VI 
 
 BARABANT HESITATES 
 
 THE Place de la Revolution was choked 
 with the multitude come to witness the 
 end of the Girondins. The populace, indifferent 
 to the sight of two or three executions a day, 
 gathered with common impulse to witness these 
 men, long lifted above their heads, go down to 
 their death in humiliation and disgrace. Many 
 who hungered, cursed them in the need of some 
 object to their hatred ; others who feared them, 
 in the savage joy of deliverance ; but the mass 
 hooted simply from the delight of seeing them 
 fallen. 
 
 Toward one o'clock the procession of five 
 carts, announced by all the tumults of the 
 human voice, cut through the frenzied hordes, 
 who from time to time fell back into silence, 
 astonished at the demeanor of these men ; who 
 to insults addressed the crowds with cries of 
 " Vive la Republique ! " or joined in the chorus 
 of the "Marseillaise." 
 
 277
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 The rumor had circulated that the body of 
 Valaze, who had committed suicide the night 
 before, was to be guillotined with the rest. In 
 the last cart, indeed, the people discovered the 
 corpse stretched among the living. 
 
 Arrived at the scaffold, the twenty descended ; 
 the one remained. A jailer, to win a laugh, 
 propped up the corpse, crying: 
 
 " Hurry up Valaze 's waiting for you." 
 
 The crowd applauded with jeers and taunts. 
 The Girondins meanwhile ranged themselves at 
 the foot of the scaffold. When their number 
 was complete, with one movement they em- 
 braced. 
 
 Several, turning toward the public, lifted up 
 their arms and repeated the cry : 
 
 " Vive la Republique ! " 
 
 Then, drawn up one against the other, giving 
 front to the torrent of their enemies, forgetting 
 even their individualities in the supreme moment, 
 the condemned began the hymn of the Republic : 
 
 "Aliens, enfants de la Patrie, 
 Le jour de gloire est arrive. ' ' 
 
 Every two minutes one of the fraternity left 
 the ranks and ascended the ladder ; but the 
 chorus continued, uninterrupted either by the 
 wild acclaim that greeted the appearance of 
 
 278
 
 BARABANT HESITATES 
 
 each victim on the scaffold, or by the thundering 
 shout that told of the severed head. 
 
 The chorus thinned to three, to two, to one. 
 The last, without ceasing the chant, mounted to 
 the platform ; only the knife interrupted the song. 
 
 Then, as far as the eye could travel, over the 
 immense square, over the packed bridges and 
 distant, darkened streets, like an immense flight 
 of released birds there appeared above the 
 crowd the red flutter of agitated liberty-caps. 
 The populace, who believed that from out this 
 hecatomb would come relief from famine, bread 
 and meat to save them, shouted frantically. 
 They also shouted who feared to be silent. The 
 uproar continued for ten minutes before the 
 mass disintegrated. 
 
 As Goursac, with heavy heart yielding to the 
 impulse of the crowd, sought his friends, from 
 whom he had separated for the sake of prudence, 
 a touch on his arm checked his progress. To 
 his surprise, he encountered the solemn face of 
 Le Corbeau. 
 
 " What do you wish ? " 
 
 " To talk with you," the lips answered, but the 
 eyes said, " You are under arrest." 
 
 " I was expecting it," he replied calmly, "but 
 not from this quarter." He sought his friends, 
 but the movement of the crowd had divided them. 
 279
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "After all, it is better so," he said to himself; 
 "farewell would be equivalent to a warrant." 
 He turned to his captor : " Where are you tak- 
 ing me *? " 
 
 Le Corbeau, without change of feature, ignored 
 the question and kept the silence. Resigning 
 himself to the situation, Goursac allowed himself 
 to be conducted with the crowd; but all at once, 
 as they entered the Rue Antoine, he felt an 
 impress on his other arm and another voice 
 saying : 
 
 " This way." 
 
 This time he perceived Sans-Chagrin, who, 
 without other recognition, drew him off the 
 thoroughfare. They penetrated abruptly into a 
 nest of narrow streets, winding and twisting in a 
 manner that left him completely in doubt as to 
 their direction. But as their general progress 
 seemed to be leading them toward the Cour des 
 Miracles, that cesspool of beggars, thieves, and 
 cutthroats, he began to fear that this capture had 
 some other design in view than his imprisonment. 
 
 He quitted his attitude of indifference and 
 summoned all his faculties to find a reason for 
 this strange course. Observing that at each 
 corner they turned his captors were forcing him 
 into a wider circle, the conviction grew in him 
 that they took this subterfuge to see if they were 
 280
 
 BARABANT HESITATES 
 
 followed. At the next corner he himself turned 
 without success. But at the third attempt he 
 distinguished, lurking behind, the three incongru- 
 ous figures of Cramoisin, Boudgoust, and Jam- 
 bony ! 
 
 Then no longer doubting that he was being 
 led to his death, he resolved that no weakness of 
 his should add to the satisfaction of his enemies. 
 
 But at this moment, as for the twentieth time 
 they turned a corner, he was seized under the arms 
 and rushed at a run down an alley. Through an 
 entrance in the end he was propelled through 
 courts, hallways, and passages innumerable, and 
 suddenly emerged into a distant street. 
 
 Goursac, now utterly at a loss, made no resist- 
 ance to this sudden doubling. Only when, after 
 a few anxious blocks, he perceived that they 
 were no longer followed, he again sought to 
 enter into conversation with Sans-Chagrin, to be 
 met by the same obstinate silence. 
 
 Their attitude increased his perplexity, which 
 was now augmented by their totally ignoring 
 the direction of the prisons and striking out for 
 the barriers of the city. Not until the Barriere 
 du Trone Renverse itself was in sight did his 
 captors stop. Entering an inn, they gave a sign 
 of recognition to the host, passed down a hall- 
 way, and pushed their prisoner into a large room, 
 281
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 where he found himself in the presence of Dosson- 
 ville. At the sight of the agent de surete, Goursac 
 drew himself up haughtily. 
 
 "So, Citoyen Dossonville, you turn with the 
 wind," he said. " I did not suspect your versa- 
 tility." 
 
 " Heavens, my dear Goursac, yes ! " cried 
 Dossonville. " But if I go with the wind, I 
 hope to be of some use to those who oppose it." 
 He pointed to the table. " That package will 
 interest you." 
 
 " There is some mistake," Goursac said, as he 
 scanned the document. " This is a passport for 
 the Citoyen Jacques Monestier." 
 
 " Well, what of that Citoyen Monestier ? " 
 
 Goursac looked at the passport, and from it to 
 the laughing countenance of Dossonville. 
 
 "Then it was to save me," he said slowly, 
 " that you had me arrested ? " 
 
 " Parbleu ! You are waking up ! " 
 
 With one bound, Goursac caught Dossonville 
 in his arms. 
 
 " Pardon, pardon ! What a fool I am ! " he 
 cried. " My noble, my generous friend ! Head 
 of an ass that I have on my shoulders ! You 
 risk your life for mine ! Thanks, thanks ; a 
 thousand times, thanks ! " 
 
 "Good!" Dossonville broke in. "Weunder- 
 282
 
 BARABANT HESITATES 
 
 stand each other now. We have but little time; 
 listen to me." He stopped the other in the 
 torrent of his protestations. "Only remember 
 this, that if a weather-vane turns to every breeze, 
 it relinquishes its base not a jot, not even to the 
 hurricane. I find therein a great moral." He 
 dismissed the thought with a gesture. "Now 
 for you. You must pass the gates immediately. 
 When Javogues discovers your escape, he may 
 give orders to watch all the gates. See here, 
 my friend you must listen to me." 
 
 Goursac was paying not the slightest attention. 
 Seated on a chair, his face aglow, he regarded 
 Dossonville with almost adoration, while from 
 time to time his emotion exploded in words. 
 
 "Dossonville, you are heroic! You are sub- 
 lime ! Oh, if I only could acquaint the world 
 with such an action! Magnificent! Heroic! He- 
 roic, I tell you ! " 
 
 Dossonville, perceiving his joy, thought to him- 
 self, " Yes, heroism before death is all very well, 
 but how the hope of life transforms a man!" 
 Aloud he continued, " Take the passport and 
 hurry." 
 
 Then Goursac, retreating a step, said but one 
 word : 
 
 "No!" 
 
 But in the word, with the flash of his eye, with 
 283
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 the toss of his head, with the resolution of his 
 lips, there was the eloquence of an oration. 
 
 This time it was Dossonville who was over- 
 come with astonishment. 
 
 " You are mad ! " he exclaimed, seizing him 
 by the lapel. " If you return, it is to the guil- 
 lotine." 
 
 " So be it ! " 
 
 " Reflect." 
 
 " I have. Had I wished to save myself, I 
 should have done so long ago." 
 
 " Then you seek death *? " 
 
 " I will not fly from the scum," Goursac said 
 proudly. " I am a Girondin and a Frenchman. 
 When I can no longer live as a Girondin, I am 
 ready to die as a Frenchman. Liberty *? What 
 do you offer me? Exile and a daily cringing from 
 discovery, a miserable, hunted existence in the 
 mud and rain ? No! " He took a step forward 
 and grasped his hand. " For what you have 
 risked for me accept my benediction; may it 
 bring good luck." 
 
 " At least, take the passport," said Dossonville, 
 desperately, holding it out to him, "so that if 
 you change your mind " 
 
 " So that I may not change my mind there." 
 
 With a rapid motion Goursac tore the pass- 
 port in two, embraced Dossonville, and went out. 
 284
 
 BARABANT HESITATES 
 
 Before the Pretre Pendu, Cramoisin, Boud- 
 goust, and Jambony, more dead than alive, hung 
 their heads in terror while Javogues, like a 
 wounded bull, strode backward and forward be- 
 fore them, filling the air with Jtus imprecations. 
 
 "Come, you lie, one and all. You lie, Cra- 
 moisin ; you lie, Boudgoust ; you lie, Jambony. 
 He has bought you with gold ! You have sold 
 yourselves ! " 
 
 " I swear they escaped us through some pas- 
 sage ! " Boudgoust cried. 
 
 " We searched an hour," Cramoisin put in. 
 
 " Shut up ! " 
 
 Javogues seized him furiously by the shoulders, 
 and approaching his gleaming eyes as though to 
 force the truth from his face, he shouted : 
 
 " You lie ! You lie ! I see you lie ! " 
 
 Abandoning him, he seized Jambony, shaking 
 him like a whip ; but as he opened his mouth to 
 roar forth fresh denunciations, he stopped short 
 and dropped the cub in amazement. At the 
 same moment a murmur ran throughout the 
 crowd, which, parting, disclosed the approaching 
 figure of Goursac. 
 
 The Girondin perceived his enemies by the 
 same motion of the crowd ; but without faltering, 
 he continued nodding to the acquaintances who 
 now shrank before him. 
 
 28;
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 He had passed the cabaret and was almost at 
 the entrance of No. 38 before Javogues could 
 recover. Then, with a roar, he cried : 
 
 " Stop ! " 
 
 Goursac wheeled, returned, and halted. 
 
 " What do you wish of me ? " 
 
 Javogues, brought thus to the long-desired 
 moment, folded his arms and said brutally : 
 
 " You do not rejoice, citoyen, at the death of 
 traitors." 
 
 " I always rejoice at the death of traitors." 
 
 " You rejoice to-day, then ? " 
 
 " I grieve." 
 
 He pronounced the words sadly. 
 
 "You are against the Revolution. Say it." 
 
 " I believe the Revolution is so great that its 
 ideas can survive even the massacre that you 
 assassins have begun." Then interrupting the 
 catechism disdainfully, he said : " Enough. I 
 should never have survived this day. Arrest 
 me." 
 
 Javogues, too overcome with rage for utter- 
 ance, consigned him with a furious gesture to his 
 body-guard. From all sides went up a shout 
 of hatred and anger. Children and women 
 crowded about, vying with one another to insult 
 the prisoner; men shook their fists in his face 
 and hooted. Amid curses and raillery, the 
 286
 
 BARABANT HESITATES 
 
 Girondin walked with collected steps, looking 
 into the ranks of his foes with steady eyes. 
 
 They had gone but a block when they en- 
 countered Nicole and Barabant. At the sight of 
 Goursac in custody, surrounded by the snarling 
 pack, the two, obeying only their generous im- 
 pulses, sprang forward with outstretched hands : 
 
 " What, you, my friend ! " Nicole cried, in 
 astonishment and sorrow. " They have arrested 
 you ! " 
 
 "No, they are liberating me," he answered, 
 with a smile. He pressed their hands. " Adieu, 
 Nicole ; adieu, Barabant ; and thanks." 
 
 But suddenly the voice of la Mere Corniche 
 rose shrilly : 
 
 " He is the friend of the Girondin. He is 
 contre-revolutionnaire. Arrest the man Bara- 
 bant ! " 
 
 Cramoisin took up the cry. 
 
 " He who pities an enemy of the Nation is a 
 traitor. Arrest him ! " 
 
 Boudgoust and Jambony, joining in, shouted : 
 
 " Arrest him ! Arrest him ! " 
 
 In the abject crowd, terrified by these four 
 men, a murmur, a muttering, a rumble, circu- 
 lated, which it waited to convert into either pro- 
 test or approval as Javogues should pronounce. 
 
 As the Marseillais unwillingly approached, 
 
 287
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Nicole, dragging Barabant back, whispered in his 
 ear that eternal cry of woman : 
 
 " Save thyself. Thy life belongs to me." 
 
 "Citoyen Barabant," Javogues said sternly, 
 " did you greet this man as a Girondin *? " 
 
 " I greeted him," Barabant said slowly, " as a 
 man who has done me kindnesses in the past." 
 
 Before this allusion to his own indebtedness 
 Javogues hesitated, but the cries of the crowd 
 urged him on. 
 
 " He evades the question ! " 
 
 " He 's a Girondin ! " 
 
 " Ask him if he 's a Girondin ! " 
 
 The last cry, from la Mere Corniche, imposed 
 itself above the rest. 
 
 "Citoyen Barabant," Javogues asked, "are 
 you a Girondin ? " 
 
 As Barabant hesitated, Nicole sought the 
 glance of Goursac, invoking his aid. The Gi- 
 rondin, who saw no one but her, perceiving her 
 motive, thought bitterly: "I die, and she cannot 
 spare me a look of pity ! " 
 
 The crowd was clamoring. 
 
 " He hesitates ! " 
 
 " He refuses ! " 
 
 "Arrest him!" 
 
 At their cries, Barabant decided. 
 
 " I am not a Girondin," he said. 
 288
 
 BARABANT HESITATES 
 
 A chorus of approval greeted the renunciation, 
 but la Mere Corniche, not to be balked, cried : 
 
 " He is deceiving us ! " 
 
 Those who wished to save him called to him : 
 " Cry, Vive les Jacobins ! " 
 
 Barabant, all escape denied him, shouted : 
 
 " Vive la Nation ! Vive les Jacobins ! " 
 
 Then, while la Mere Corniche and the three 
 were silent in helpless rage, the crowd, which 
 adored Barabant, surrounded him, slapping him 
 on the shoulders, shaking his hand, congratulat- 
 ing him. With one accord the shout went up : 
 " Vive Barabant ! " 
 
 When the shouting died, Nicole heard the 
 rasping voice of Goursac saying to his captors 
 with triumphant sarcasm : 
 
 " I see no further need of delay ; proceed."
 
 VII 
 
 THE MADNESS OF JEALOUSY 
 
 THE victory was to the woman, but it was 
 a victory fraught with menace. Nicole 
 understood her danger, but in her anxiety she 
 adopted the wrong defense. On the stairway she 
 infolded Barabant with her arm, seeking to com- 
 municate to his depressed body the gaiety and 
 relief in hers, while with all the artifices of the 
 woman who feels herself menaced she sought to 
 belittle the importance of the scene, little realiz- 
 ing the deep wound to the pride of Barabant. 
 
 " It was for me you did it," she whispered. 
 " You would not leave me. I alone under- 
 stood." 
 
 He did not answer, and once in their room, fell 
 into a chair, burying his head in his hands. 
 Alarmed at his obstinate silence, Nicole, groping 
 for the right attitude, began to reason, walking 
 the floor in her earnestness. 
 
 " After all, mon ami, that is what the Terror- 
 ists want to guillotine the Moderates. Goursac 
 290
 
 THE MADNESS OF JEALOUSY 
 
 was foolish; he played into the hands of his 
 enemies. You are wise. The duty of the 
 Moderates is to keep silent, to preserve them- 
 selves for the good of the Nation. How can 
 you serve the Nation without your head"? The 
 times will change, mon ami, and you '11 be here 
 to help set things aright." 
 
 " Oh, that voice," cried Barabant, " I hear it 
 always." 
 
 " Mon ami, you are suffering ! " she exclaimed. 
 "I know. I understand." 
 
 She threw herself at his feet, trying to separate 
 his hands, seeking to take his head upon her 
 shoulder ; but Barabant resisted, saying : 
 
 " No, Nicole, no ; leave me to myself." 
 
 "Don't put me away," she begged. "You 
 are suffering ; let me share it." 
 
 He took her hands from his neck and com- 
 pelled her to rise. She went to the window, 
 twice turning to look at the dejected figure that 
 remained unaware of her glances. 
 
 " I have made a blunder. Yes, I have made 
 a blunder," she said to herself, pressing her hand 
 against her lips to quell the rising sob. " He 
 blames me." 
 
 The next morning she received another shock 
 when he informed her that he wished to be alone 
 all day. 
 
 291
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Then we don't lunch together *? " she cried, 
 frightened. 
 
 " Not to-day." 
 
 Not daring to contradict him, she let him go 
 without a word. 
 
 "He blames me. He blames me," she told 
 herself, until all at once, like a thunder-clap, 
 came the thought : " Or is it only a pretext ? " 
 
 Her judgment tumbled before the suggestion, 
 and on the moment she was surrounded by the 
 old doubts. She hurried out, morbidly sensitive 
 to the glances of the concierge, of the loiterers 
 before the cabaret, of the bouquetieres her com- 
 rades; seeing everywhere mocking glances or 
 looks of sympathy. Despite Barabant's wish 
 and her better judgment, she scoured his haunts 
 with the one desire to know what he was doing. 
 
 After a day of agony spent in fruitless travel, 
 she returned to their room, without a glimpse of 
 Barabant. Having prepared the meal, she sat 
 down before the fire to wait impatiently the hour 
 of seven, when he would return. Beside her 
 chair she placed a redingote of his and sew- 
 ing-material. In the disorder of her mind all 
 her naturalness had departed, and seeking every- 
 thing with artifices, she wished him to come 
 upon her as she watched their supper and busied 
 herself with his wardrobe. 
 292
 
 THE MADNESS OF JEALOUSY 
 
 " That will soften his resentment, perhaps," 
 she thought. "And that everything may be 
 cheerful, I must be singing." 
 
 So, when later the stairs gave out the sounds 
 of footsteps, she hurriedly possessed the mend- 
 ing, humming as she sewed; but the steps ceased 
 two flights below. The redingote slipped from 
 her hands, the song stopped, and, overcome with 
 disappointment, she cried : 
 
 " Oh, mon Dieu, it is not he ! " 
 
 When seven arrived and she began to be 
 anxious, she consoled herself with the thought 
 that the effect would be better if he found her 
 waiting without complaint. A burning smell 
 warned her that the dinner was spoiling. She 
 removed the pots from the fire, placing them for 
 warmth in the ashes, and, abandoning all thought 
 of the picture she had imagined, went to the 
 window, where she remained, pressing her hands 
 against her temples, staring into the misty night. 
 
 At nine o'clock she returned into the middle 
 of the room, and looking about at the scene of 
 her happiness, she said with conviction : 
 
 " It is ended ! " 
 
 Traveling ceaselessly back and forth like a 
 panther, she cried: " Yes, yes, it is ended ! " Still, 
 as long as she repeated it, she continued to hope, 
 and at each fancied creak she ran to the landing, 
 
 2 93
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 leaning over to catch his first footfall. But when 
 she returned, she still said : 
 
 " No, no ; I knew it. It is ended ended ! " 
 
 At ten she ceased to repeat it, she was con- 
 vinced. She collapsed on the bed, brain and 
 body incapable of effort, while the cruel minutes, 
 in their inexorable procession, inflicted each a 
 separate torture. 
 
 When midnight announced itself, the last 
 thread of hope snapped within her. She 
 bounded up, lit a candle, descended the flight, 
 and entered the room, calling, " Goursac ! " 
 
 She had forgotten the arrest. The fact ap- 
 peared to her as an evil omen, presaging ca- 
 lamity. 
 
 In fear of the sepulchral stillness, she fled 
 back, rushing in a panic to her room, where she 
 gazed about helplessly, asking herself what she 
 was to do. All at once, at the window, staring 
 at her old room, she cried : 
 
 "If it is Louison!" And emitting an "Ah!" 
 that had in it the note of murder, she passed out 
 of the window. 
 
 The night was filled with fog, out of which 
 descended the sharp sting of rain. She moved 
 slowly, her body pressed to the roof, seeing with 
 her fingers until the dormer-window struck against 
 her foot. Once into Louison's room, she crept 
 
 294
 
 THE MADNESS OF JEALOUSY 
 
 to the bed, stretching out her hand. It was 
 empty. 
 
 "Oh! oh! oh!" 
 
 The cry was of something collapsing in her 
 soul. Without returning to her room, she sped 
 down the stairs, through the two courts, and into 
 the street. In her unheeding rush, she turned to 
 the right, missing Barabant, who was at the 
 moment returning from the opposite direction. 
 
 When she could run no longer, she dropped 
 into a walk until, recovering her breath, she 
 broke again into a run. At the street corners 
 the bracketed lanterns suffused the fog with a 
 floating radiance that guided her over the glisten- 
 ing, slippery stones. The mist that threatened 
 the world with a destiny of gloom, the rain that 
 gathered on her eyelashes and weighted her hair, 
 she welcomed as the fitting touch to her misery ; 
 but the chill abated not a jot of the fever in her 
 veins. Out of the blurred night occasionally 
 long lines of watchers emerged, crouching un- 
 der shawls, hugging the walls to escape the rain. 
 A dozen brutish arms snatched at her, but elud- 
 ing all, she arrived, panting and trembling, at her 
 destination, crying to the servant who answered 
 her knock : 
 
 " Citoyenne, is this the Committee of Safety ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 295
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " I must see them." 
 
 " Do you come to denounce some one *? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 "Enter." 
 
 Nicole found herself in a hall. 
 
 "Name, citoyenne *?" 
 
 "The Citoyenne Nicole, bouquetiere. The 
 Citoyen Couthon will know me." 
 
 The servant passed to a door at the back and 
 knocked timidly. At the second repetition a 
 voice cried : 
 
 " Come in." 
 
 The door opened on a group of men about a 
 table littered with papers. 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 "A citoyenne who wishes to make a denun- 
 ciation." 
 
 " Name ? " 
 
 " The Citoyenne Nicole, bouquetiere." 
 
 " Tiens ! I know her," exclaimed a voice. The 
 spokesman, on this evidence, gave a sign of per- 
 mission to the servant, who ushered in Nicole. 
 
 A voice said approvingly : 
 
 " Look she is pretty." 
 
 " Have n't the time." 
 
 Several, attracted by the exclamation, gave her 
 a casual glance; the rest, without raising their 
 heads, continued the low hum of their confer- 
 296
 
 THE MADNESS OF JEALOUSY 
 
 cnce. From the farther side a man wrapped in 
 blankets, deformed, infirm, seized with sudden 
 chills, greeted her. 
 
 " Well, Nicole, you 've come to denounce 
 some one ? That 's right." 
 
 " Citoyen Couthon," Nicole blurted, " I " 
 
 At the aspect of these machine-like men in- 
 dustriously busy with the lists that fed the guil- 
 lotine, all her anger dissolved she could not 
 pronounce there the name she had loved. 
 
 " Well, well," Couthon said encouragingly, 
 "you want to denounce whom*? Come, let us 
 get at it. Not the Citoyen Eugene Barabant, at 
 least," he said, with a good-natured leer. 
 
 The sound of that name in this spot, without 
 pity, terrified Nicole; she now sought only an 
 excuse to retreat. 
 
 " What name 's that ? " cried a little man from 
 the table. "Eugene Barabant? Wait a moment ; 
 wait a moment. Let me search." 
 
 Couthon lounged to the side of the speaker, 
 who, turning to his neighbor, demanded the list 
 of suspects to be arrested, while Nicole, flattened 
 against the wall, dazed by a sudden fear, remained 
 trembling at the snatches of conversation that 
 reached her. 
 
 "A man offered me one thousand livres to- 
 day if I 'd slip in the name of his wife." 
 297
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " That was cheap ! " 
 
 " Heron is becoming insupportable. He 's 
 sent in the name of every one in his building. 
 To-day it 's the woman above him." 
 
 " She makes too much noise, no doubt." 
 
 " What 's the difference? The Nation needs the 
 funds. We must coin money on the Place de 
 la Revolution ; the guillotine is the mint of the 
 Nation." 
 
 "You 're a financier." 
 
 " I 'm proud of it. Guillotine the rich 
 there 's my finance." 
 
 Couthon raised his head. 
 
 " That 's strange ; I too thought I 'd seen the 
 name." 
 
 The others, attracted by his exclamation, 
 asked : 
 
 " What name ? " 
 
 " Barabant. Eugene Barabant." 
 
 A small man spoke up. 
 
 " Denounced last night by the Citoyen Ja- 
 vogues and an old hag the size of a child. Do 
 you remember *? " 
 
 A chorus of assent greeted him. 
 
 " Barabant denounced ! " Nicole cried. " Bar- 
 abant denounced ! " She extended her hand. 
 " La Mere Corniche ? " 
 
 " That 's the name." 
 
 208
 
 THE MADNESS OF JEALOUSY 
 
 "Come, Nicole, a lover is easily replaced. 
 I 've sacrificed two already to the Nation," Cou- 
 thon cried. " Don't lose your time ; denounce 
 your suspect. We are short to-night." 
 
 " A pretty patriot like that has right to a 
 dozen suspects," cried another, amid laughter. 
 
 Overwhelmed, dizzy, and horror-stricken, she 
 shook her head, felt with her hands until she 
 found the door, and, backing from the room, fled 
 from the house fled back through the ghostly 
 city. 
 
 Goursac's door was opened; Genevieve herself, 
 with solemn face flushed with the light of her 
 candle, was waiting for her. 
 
 " Tell me quick ! " she cried, apprehending 
 what had happened. 
 
 " You know, then ? " 
 
 " Know what ? " 
 
 " Barabant has been arrested." 
 
 She recoiled to the wall shrieking: 
 
 " Arrested ! " 
 
 " An hour ago." 
 
 "Where 1 ?" 
 
 " Here." 
 
 " Here *? Then he came back ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Without waiting to hear more, she fled to 
 their room. The lantern he had lighted shone 
 299
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 over the stone floor, the cheerless walls, and the 
 kinks in the roof. It was all empty terribly 
 empty. On the bed she perceived the belt and 
 the coat he had left. Forgetting her jealousy, 
 her anger, her mission, remembering only that 
 he had returned, knowing only that her dream 
 was ended, she stretched out her helpless arms 
 and cried: 
 
 " Barabant ! Barabant ! " 
 
 Then, overcome with hunger, weariness, and 
 the ravages of her emotion, she slipped to the 
 floor in a heap. 
 
 300
 
 VIII 
 
 LA F$TE DE LA RAISON 
 
 ON the 2oth of Brumaire, day of the Feast of 
 Reason, maddest day the world has ever 
 known, the Revolution, having overturned the 
 social order, abolished the clergy, introduced the 
 monetary system, instituted fraternal banquets, 
 established popular education, and renamed the 
 calendar, now, as though unwilling that aught 
 should exist save in its image, decreed the aboli- 
 tion of religion and set up the cult of Reason. 
 The neighborhood of the Pretre Pendu, accus- 
 tomed as it was to the vagaries of its tyrants, was 
 yet astounded at the pitch of frenzy to which exul- 
 tation stirred the Marseillais and his companions. 
 The ecstasy of Javogues terrified all with its 
 frantic joy; for him the consummation of the 
 human race had arrived. He spent the morning 
 before the cabaret, astride a vat, dispensing wine 
 and hand-shakes, his arms in the air haranguing 
 the crowd that trembled to be present and dared 
 not stay away. 
 
 301
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Religion is dead!" he bellowed to all comers. 
 " The farce is ended ! The impudent bubble is 
 pricked ! " 
 
 Boudgoust and Jambony, on either side, imi- 
 tated his fury and his gestures, while Cramoisin, 
 twisting in the crowd, made all he met shout to 
 the cry of: 
 
 " Vive la Raison ! " 
 
 The listeners for the most part simulated en- 
 thusiasm, with an eye to escape. A few echoed : 
 
 " Down with superstition ! " 
 
 La Mere Corniche, hobbling into the midst of 
 them, extended her hand to Javogues in rough 
 familiarity, crying : 
 
 " Well, my big fellow, are you happy *? What 
 a day, hanh "? No more superstitions for us ! 
 Touch hands." 
 
 " Touch there, mother ! " Their hands met 
 with a clap. " Did n't I tell you, from the first, 
 there is no God ? " 
 
 *' Aye, you did. He never feared, that man ! " 
 
 " I say it now," Javogues cried, and thrice he 
 shouted : " There is no God ! " 
 
 Suddenly, flinging from the vat, he cleared a 
 space about him with his arm, and, seizing 
 Genevieve by the shoulder to steady himself, 
 cried : 
 
 " If there is a God, let him strike me down. 
 302
 
 LA F&TE DE LA RAISON 
 
 Let the moment decide between us. I defy 
 him!" 
 
 He raised his fist to the sky and remained 
 waiting, while more than one closed their eyes in 
 terror. Then as the skies disgorged no thunder- 
 bolt, his arm relaxed, descending to his side, and 
 the scornful lips with a sneer pronounced : 
 
 "Bah!" 
 
 "Vive Ja vogues!" 
 
 It was the voice of Cramoisin that acclaimed 
 the victor. 
 
 Abandoning Genevieve, Javogues caught from 
 the crowd a bakeress and a fille de joie and forced 
 them into each other's arms, crying : 
 
 " Embrace ; the Revolution declares you sis- 
 ters!" 
 
 Leaving the frightened women cowering, he 
 again seized Genevieve as a prop, and clearing 
 the throng, rolled up the street, invoking each 
 window with the exulting shout : 
 
 " Vive la Raison ! " 
 
 While Cramoisin and Boudgoust combated 
 for the relinquished vat, Jambony, serving the 
 spigot, impudent and mocking, bellowed : 
 
 " Citoyens, it is not enough to wipe out cults : 
 we must level the steeples. Steeples are aristo- 
 cratic. What 's the use of making Temples of 
 Reason of the ci-devant churches if steeples are 
 
 33
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 to lord it over us. Steeples are the princes of 
 the city ! " 
 
 " Citoyen, the Section des Bonnes Nouvelles 
 has already done so ! " a woman cried. 
 
 " Then Vive la Section des Bonnes Nou- 
 velles ! " 
 
 With the departure of Javogues the crowd 
 grew noisy, disputing and haranguing. From 
 the top of the vat, which he had gained, Cramoi- 
 sin bellowed in vain to them to listen to his 
 ideas on the primeval innocence and the com- 
 munity of women. The throng had turned to 
 another who, applauding the laws of burial, de- 
 clared, beyond interring each citoyen under the 
 simple tricolor flag, perfect equality could be 
 obtained only by identical tombstones. 
 
 All at once la Mere Corniche, who had re- 
 mained on the fringe of the crowd, shrank into 
 it with an exclamation of fear. At the entrance 
 of No. 38 appeared Nicole. On her face was 
 the brooding and the color of death. For a 
 moment she leaned against the wall, searching 
 uneasily among the crowd. Then, still seeking, 
 she approached, swaying from side to side, and 
 her eye fell on la Mere Corniche and passed. 
 
 " It is not I," the old woman muttered, still 
 trembling from the suspense. " It 's Cramoisin." 
 
 Then as Nicole, shaking her head, turned 
 
 34
 
 LA F^TE DE LA RAISON 
 
 wearily and went down the street, rubbing from 
 time to time against the wall, la Mere Corniche 
 said to herself, " Ah, it is Javogues ! " 
 
 She sought the eye of Cramoisin. He was 
 still on the vat, struck dumb in the midst of a 
 furious harangue, following the girl as she dis- 
 appeared from sight. 
 
 The concierge, in her fear, had guessed rightly: 
 Nicole sought the Marseillais. Her doubts of 
 Barabant, dispelled on the instant of his arrest, 
 had given place to bitter reproaches, to self-ac- 
 cusation, and to an immense, confused hatred of 
 the man who had betrayed him. The separa- 
 tion was irrevocable; she could see nothing 
 ahead. In the desolation of her hopes her anger 
 turned against the Revolution. Barabant guilty ! 
 Barabant, the generous, impulsive advocate of 
 great ideas, a traitor! At such a thought her 
 whole being rose in revolt against the Revolu- 
 tion that would destroy him. Without dis- 
 tinguishing its abuses from its truths, reasoning 
 from men to ideas, revolting at the doctrine of 
 the community of women that menaced her 
 pure ambitions, she saw the Revolution only in 
 the furious figure of Javogues, brutal, despotic, 
 and mad. Shrinking from her comrades, with- 
 out faith, without hope, adrift, with the figure 
 
 305
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 of Charlotte Corday ever before her, tormented 
 with the thought of martyrdom, she followed 
 Javogues, restlessly keeping him under her eye, 
 seeking him with an instinctive impulse that 
 gradually and fearfully shaped itself in her 
 resolution. 
 
 The streets where she wandered were filled 
 with barbaric processions from the sack of the 
 churches. Unshaven heads crowned with gor- 
 geous miters, ragged bodies clothed in purple 
 ' robes, smudgy arms brandishing golden chalices, 
 crucifixes, and relics swept by with exultant, 
 mocking chorus. In the churchyards troops of 
 beggars demolished monuments and leveled the 
 tombs, while still others beheaded the stone 
 images in the niches of the doors. 
 
 Toward night the lowest elements of the 
 social order were unchained. The drunkards, 
 the thieves, the idiots, the pariahs, the beggars, 
 the destitute, the morbidly curious, the shrews, 
 the hags, the harlots; all who hated the good 
 and many who had been taught to regard reli- 
 gion as the shackles that fastened them to servi- 
 tude, erupted into the night, to mock the Church 
 and dishonor it. 
 
 Listless, troubled, and uneasy, through the 
 demented city Nicole continued her search, 
 stopping neither for lunch nor for supper, sort- 
 306
 
 LA F&TE DE LA RAISON 
 
 ing, without success, each successive throng, while 
 every scene of license and sacrilege that inflamed 
 her anger steadied her resolve. 
 
 In the church of St. Gervais she stopped, ap- 
 palled at the riot. Within, shrieks of laughter 
 mingled with hoarse shouts of men and the 
 surging rhythm of music. Horror and rage pos- 
 sessed her, and she plunged in, seeking Ja- 
 vogues, while her hand went nervously to her 
 breast. 
 
 The church was dim with the smoky glim- 
 mer of lamps, which veiled the interior in a 
 mantle of fog. The fishwives from the Marche 
 St. Jean offered salted herrings to all comers, 
 poisoning the air and disgusting the nostrils, 
 while on their track followed limonadiers with 
 overtopping tanks, rattling their cups and hawk- 
 ing their beverage. 
 
 In the Chapel of the Virgin a hundred couples 
 were dancing, bumping into one another, hilari- 
 ous with wine and hoarse with shouting; while 
 above the carnival, enthroned on the altar, a 
 blue and white Goddess of Reason, a girl of 
 fifteen, watched the rout, arranging her scarlet 
 liberty-cap or extending her hand with con- 
 scious smiles to those who acclaimed her. 
 
 Among these women whirling with closed 
 eyes and tumbled hair, among the reeling men, 
 
 307
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Nicole glided until satisfied that the Marseillais 
 was absent ; then she left the unholy halls and 
 ran, panting, to St. Eustache. 
 
 There, inside the entrance, the uproar halted 
 her, and she remained, in bewilderment, gazing 
 down the enormous length, asking herself if her 
 senses had departed. 
 
 The great vista was transformed into a 
 country-side ; at her elbow were rustic huts and 
 clumps of trees, while in the distance, hidden 
 under the foliage of thickets, rose mounds that 
 echoed to the creaking of planks under the rush 
 of feet. Suddenly a hand caught her arm and 
 Dossonville's voice cried : 
 
 " Nicole, are you mad ! " 
 
 Angry at this interruption to her plans, she 
 turned with a gesture of impatience; but Dos- 
 sonville, without relinquishing his grasp, con- 
 tinued sternly: 
 
 " You cannot stay, you cannot ! " 
 
 " I am going to." 
 
 The next moment some one seized her by the 
 waist; she turned with a scream. It was Cra- 
 moisin who, unaware of her identity, had caught 
 her. 
 
 At the sight of Nicole he relaxed his hold, in 
 such utter terror that he stumbled and fell on 
 his back, when a band of women seized him by 
 308
 
 LA FTE DE LA RAISON 
 
 the arms and legs and bore him raging into the 
 crowd. 
 
 "Diable!" Dossonville muttered to himself. 
 " If the beast recognized me, I am done for." 
 Then taking the girl's arm, he repeated : " Ni- 
 cole, you cannot remain ; it is impossible." 
 
 " I can protect myself," she said savagely. 
 
 "Nicole " 
 
 " I must stay ! " 
 
 In a moment Dossonville guessed something of 
 her design, and withdrawing a step, said sternly: 
 
 " Whom are you seeking ? " 
 
 "No one." 
 
 " You are meditating something desperate." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " You will not come ? " 
 
 She shook her head impatiently. 
 
 " Then my life is in your hands ; I will not 
 leave you." 
 
 Satisfied with this solution, that offered her a 
 certain protection, Nicole inclined her head, and 
 caring little how far she betrayed herself to him, 
 hastened feverishly into the throng. The loath- 
 ing and hatred which communicated itself to 
 her body banished all other senses; her breast 
 rose tumultuously, her forehead grew ugly with 
 anger, while her restless eyes beheld the satur- 
 nalia without comprehension. 
 
 39
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Silently she dragged him about the great 
 space. On the altars of the chapels were spilled 
 bouquets and bottles of wine pell-mell with sau- 
 sages, pates, vegetables, and meats. A score of 
 hands clutched the food, scattering it over the 
 steps, splashing the altars with the red stains 
 of wine. The people gorged, drank, embraced, 
 and fell sprawling; while at times, with a 
 drunken cheer, some one in the tangle would 
 hurl a sausage or a ball of dripping bread at the 
 statues and portraits above, crying : 
 
 " There 's for you, ci-devant Virgin ! " 
 
 "Eat a little and become a good republican!" 
 
 Out of the scramble, boys and girls were 
 thrust forward to plunge their tiny hands into 
 the food in sign of liberty, while bottles of wine, 
 snatched from the famished lips of beggars, 
 were held out to them, until in their intoxica- 
 tion they furnished amusement to the ribald 
 crowd. 
 
 " Pass on, pass on," cried Nicole. 
 
 A rush of women brushed them against the 
 wall. In the procession were tossing a dozen 
 statues capped with liberty-bonnets. In front 
 of them, a woman, leaping forward, embraced a 
 statue in her arms and bore it crashing to the 
 floor. 
 
 At the next chapel, Dossonville felt a sudden 
 310
 
 LA FTE DE LA RAISON 
 
 tension on his arm. Within, a band of madmen 
 and crazy women were performing a mockery of 
 a mass. Before a half-naked girl in stupor on 
 the altar Boudgoust was kneeling, while Jam- 
 bony, insolent and sneering, swung a chain of 
 sausages to and fro as censers. 
 
 Below the figure of the Goddess of Reason had 
 been placed a hastily constructed guillotine, 
 which Boudgoust elevated and replaced, pouring 
 over it a libation of red wine, announcing : 
 " The blood of aristocrats we offer thee ! " 
 Then turning, he led the uproarious congrega- 
 tion, crouching below, in a litany : 
 
 "St. Guillotine, protector of patriots, pray for us. 
 St. Guillotine, terror of aristocrats, protect us. 
 Lovely machine, have pity on us. 
 Admirable machine, have pity on us. 
 St. Guillotine, deliver us of our enemies! " 
 
 "Pass on, pass on," Nicole cried, after the 
 unavailing search. 
 
 " If it is not they, it is Javogues," thought 
 Dossonville, who had been wondering whom she 
 was seeking. 
 
 They left the chapels and emerged into the 
 aisle, where no sound predominated and every- 
 thing was heard ; where it seemed that Hell, 
 having overturned Heaven, was struggling to
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 annihilate itself in the need of venting its 
 wickedness. 
 
 For a moment Nicole forgot herself, aghast 
 at the frenzy of her kind. She raised her eyes 
 in terror to the deep vaults stretching upward 
 undisturbed, serene and awful, as though from 
 the dim regions, which in her childhood she had 
 peopled with visions, the avenging thunderbolt 
 was about to smite the scoffers. 
 
 On every side the shouts grew wilder. Vile 
 women, dropping the mask of their sex, pur- 
 sued men in long, haggard, furious lines over the 
 artificial mounds that groaned under the chase. 
 The half-naked figure of Cramoisin appeared, 
 surrounded by bacchantes, exhorting the crowd 
 to return to the primitive innocence. Forms 
 meaningless and confused flitted, whirled, reeled 
 before them in an unending danse Macabre, 
 while mingled with the tempest came the ever- 
 exultant shout : 
 
 " Vive la Raison ! Vive la Raison ! " 
 
 Suddenly, by the catch of her breath and by 
 the involuntary " Ah ! " Dossonville knew that 
 Nicole had found Javogues. 
 
 Without awaiting her leap, he hurled himself 
 on her and bore her back into a thicket, strug- 
 gling and pleading and burying her teeth in the 
 hand that muffled her screams. Then when the 
 
 3 12
 
 LA F&TE DE LA RAISON 
 
 mad struggles had snapped the bonds of con- 
 sciousness, he picked her up in his arms and 
 bore her quickly out through the unbridled mob, 
 who broke into applause, believing her overcome 
 with drunkenness. 
 
 3 J 3
 
 AS DID CHARLOTTE CORDAY 
 
 BEHIND Dossonville the riot and the tu- 
 mult fell to a whisper ; the titanic upheaval 
 ended with the walls. Above, the night was 
 solemn and gentle, and the Seine, toward which 
 he bore Nicole, unconscious of the revolt, flowed 
 with the serenity of ages. Depositing the girl 
 on a bench, he busied himself with recalling her 
 to the quiet world. 
 
 When consciousness returned, it was by flashes 
 where the incoherent words, jumbled and wild, 
 showed she was still in the saturnalia, preparing 
 to spring at the hated figure of the Marseillais. 
 Fearing that her cries would attract a crowd, 
 Dossonville shook her. She opened her eyes, 
 saw him, and sat up, seeking to assemble her 
 thoughts. Then a groan escaped her as memory 
 returned. 
 
 " Ah, my friend," she said pitifully, " why did 
 you stop me ? It was the moment." 
 
 She put down her feet, smoothed her dress, 
 
 3H
 
 AS DID CHARLOTTE CORDAY 
 
 and stood up, while Dossonville, rising, said per- 
 emptorily: 
 
 " Where are you going now ? " 
 
 " Home. Give me your arm. You were too 
 strong; I am tired." 
 
 "Nicole," Dossonville began, in the hope of 
 diverting her mood, "let us reason a little. That 
 is not the Revolution : that is the scum. Judge 
 it not by that." 
 
 "You say that," she answered wearily 
 " you ? " 
 
 "Aye, the Revolution has proved too im- 
 mense, and the leaders too weak. It has rolled 
 over them ; but the world is its path, and time 
 will right it." 
 
 But Nicole, despite all his artifices, refused to 
 say another word until in the Rue Maugout he 
 cried sternly : 
 
 " Nicole, what do you intend to do ? " 
 
 " Is that so difficult to guess *? " 
 
 "Nicole! You are not going to take your 
 life!" 
 
 " My life ? " she answered, shaking her head. 
 " That is all that is left to me to use." 
 
 " Javogues's ? " 
 
 She took his hands, smiling, and said : 
 
 " To-night I was mad and you could stop me ; 
 now I am calm and you can do nothing. Good 
 
 3*5
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 night. Forgive me if I have endangered your 
 life. Good night, my friend, good night." 
 
 From the profound sleep of exhaustion Nicole, 
 the next morning, struggled to open her eyes with 
 the echo of Goursac's name sounding in her ears. 
 
 " Nicole ! He, Citoyenne Nicole ! " 
 
 She rushed to the window, and, leaning far out, 
 beheld below in the misty court the abhorrent 
 figures of the three Tapedures. At her appear- 
 ance they sent up the exultant shout : " Goursac 
 dies to-day ! " 
 
 " To-day," she repeated dully, watching their 
 departure without emotion. 
 
 It was still early, and the weak sun, filtering 
 through the fogs of the November morning, 
 cast yellow shadows where shadows showed 
 at all. Silent and calm, the girl withdrew and 
 began to dress. Within her soul the torment of 
 the last days had given place to quiet. What 
 she had recoiled from doing as an individual 
 now appeared easy to her as the instrument of a 
 high vengeance. In her now were the revolt of 
 womanhood, the anger of the Christian, and the 
 resolution of a Charlotte Corday, which is the 
 resolution of a people. 
 
 Slowly and with great care she dressed, exam- 
 ining herself often, selecting her best attire, and 
 316
 
 AS DID CHARLOTTE CORDAY 
 
 as she dressed she began to sing, wondering the 
 while that she could feel so light-hearted. From 
 the bureau she took her dagger and a ring that 
 Barabant had left, slipping it on her finger, saying 
 wistfully : 
 
 "Poor Barabant. I might have betrayed you. 
 Ah, I shall make reparation." 
 
 In the elevation of her soul he seemed very 
 distant, and the room of her happiness, as she 
 paused meditatively, unreal and no more a part 
 of her life. She went to the bed and knelt, clos- 
 ing her eyes and stretching up her clasped hands. 
 Suddenly she took the dagger from her breast 
 and placed it as a cross before her, fastening her 
 eyes upon it as her lips repeated her prayers. 
 
 She rose, passed out of the room, and without 
 a tremor descended the stairs. But at Goursac's 
 landing the sound of voices below compelled 
 her to halt and withdraw into the room. In the 
 turning her skirt caught on a splinter and was 
 torn. 
 
 " Ah, what a misfortune ! " she said to herself, 
 unconscious of the incongruity of her words. 
 " My best skirt, too." 
 
 Her mind, before the immense decision, took 
 refuge in trifles. She sought a pin and occupied 
 herself with hiding the rent, while from time to 
 time she exclaimed impatiently: 
 
 3 1 ?
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " They are taking a long time ! " 
 
 Unable to remain still, she passed out to the 
 landing, whence, fancying that she had detected 
 the name of Barabant, she stole down the steps 
 as far as the turn would permit, shrinking against 
 the dark walls. Almost immediately the door 
 opened and the voice of Javogues said : 
 
 "He shall not escape,.! promise it! Within 
 three days Barabant shall look through the little 
 window of Mother Guillotine ! " 
 
 "But how '11 you find him?" replied the 
 querulous voice of la Mere Corniche. " Some 
 one has transferred him from the Luxembourg." 
 
 "Never fear. I '11 search the prisons and 
 drag him out, in spite of all the Dossonvilles in 
 Paris." 
 
 "But when?" 
 
 " This morning. There, will that satisfy you, 
 old patriot ? " 
 
 A grunt came for all reply, and the next 
 moment the ascending flight creaked with the 
 weight of the concierge. 
 
 Nicole, thus threatened with immediate dis- 
 covery, seized her dagger in a desperate resolve, 
 but the advance stopped and the voice of la 
 Mere Corniche whispered : 
 
 " Nicole has gone out, has n't she ? " 
 
 " No, she is above." 
 
 3>8
 
 AS DID CHARLOTTE CORDAY 
 
 "Then it is. better to wait." 
 
 To the inexpressible relief of the trembling 
 girl, the old woman turned and descended. 
 Left in security, Nicole resumed her composure. 
 Without fear of failure, without once debating 
 the means she should employ, confident that all 
 that was essential was to be in the presence of 
 the tyrant, she descended, entering the room so 
 softly that Javogues turned with a startled : 
 
 "Who J s that?" 
 
 " Nicole." 
 
 " What are you stealing in like a cat for *? " 
 
 " I have come to speak with you." 
 
 " Speak." 
 
 " Why do you persecute Barabant*?" 
 
 " He is a traitor ! " 
 
 " But he said he was not a Girondin." 
 
 " He lied." 
 
 " But what is his offense ? " 
 
 " He would show mercy to the aristocrats." 
 
 " Mercy ! " she cried. *' Have you forgotten 
 to whom you owe your life ? You did not scorn 
 his mercy ! " 
 
 Instead of the expected explosion, Javogues, 
 without resentment, replied : 
 
 " Because I remembered that I did not listen 
 when they told me Barabant was contre-revolu- 
 tionnaire. I have done a great wrong : I consid-
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 ered myself instead of the Nation." He rose with 
 the glance of the fanatic. " Yes, I am guilty I, 
 Javogues ! But I will denounce myself. If the 
 Nation decides that I must be punished, let my 
 head warn others against moderation ! " 
 
 "Javogues," cried Nicole, recoiling, "have you 
 not a drop of human blood in you *? Have you 
 pity for nothing ? Does not the sight of all the 
 blood spilled on the guillotine satisfy you ? " 
 
 " Satisfy me ? " he laughed. He elevated his 
 arms, repeating it with a clap of laughter. " That 
 little pool of blood satisfy me ? Only an inunda- 
 tion can purify France. Twenty executions a 
 day would not satisfy me. The guillotine is too 
 merciful for traitors. I would drown them by 
 hundreds these aristocrats these rich these 
 Moderates who have crushed us for ages. If 
 those we smite are not guilty, their fathers were ! 
 We must be revenged on the ages." 
 
 Then addressing Nicole furiously, he cried : 
 " See here, my girl ; if you talk of moderation, 
 you '11 go, too ! " 
 
 There was a moment's silence. Then sud- 
 denly, from below, she heard the voice of Dos- 
 sonville calling: 
 
 "Nicole! Ho, Nicole!" 
 
 Without was life ; within the dim room, mar- 
 tyrdom. 
 
 3 20
 
 AS DID CHARLOTTE CORDAY 
 
 " Then you think," she said, looking down, 
 " that Barabant is guilty ? " 
 
 " He shall die ! " 
 
 She was smiling with a deceitful smile as she 
 answered : 
 
 " You are perhaps right. Moderation is wrong. 
 We have suffered much." 
 
 " Well said ! " Javogues cried. " There speaks 
 the patriot." 
 
 " Nicole ! Nicole, come down ! " cried the 
 voice without. 
 
 "It is that traitor Dossonville," Nicole said, 
 still smiling. " He does not know that Goursac 
 is to die to-day. Call it down to him. That 
 will enrage him." 
 
 With a gleam of joy, Javogues turned to the 
 window; but before he had made two steps, 
 Nicole, bounding forward, buried her dagger be- 
 tween the vast shoulders. The hands went franti- 
 cally into the air, a hideous sound choked in the 
 throat, and, spinning around, the great bulk 
 tottered and collapsed at her feet. A mo- 
 ment before was martyrdom, now nothing but 
 horror. 
 
 Hysterical, panic-stricken, holding out her hand 
 before her, the hand that bore the curse of blood, 
 the girl fled from the room, shrieking: 
 
 " I have killed him ! " 
 321
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 At each flight, shivering as though the specter 
 pursued, she repeated : 
 
 " I have killed him ! I have killed him ! " 
 
 She rushed from the doorway into the court, 
 haggard, stretching away the accusing hand, and 
 streaked across the court into the arms of Dos- 
 sonville, screaming always : 
 
 " I have killed him ! " 
 
 Above, the face of Javogues, purple and chok- 
 ing, appeared a moment at the window, and fell 
 back, crying: 
 
 " Help ! Help ! " 
 
 From the four walls the windows put forth 
 frightened heads. Two or three half-dressed fig- 
 ures came tumbling into the court. But Dosson- 
 ville, seizing the maddened girl, rushed her away 
 through the passage and up the street before the 
 startled lodgers could divine what had happened. 
 
 322
 
 UNRELENTING IN DEATH 
 
 PLACING Nicole in safety in the Maison 
 Talaru, a privileged jail, of which the 
 keeper, Schmidt, was his friend, Dossonville, pick- 
 ing up Le Corbeau and Sans-Chagrin, returned to 
 the court, now packed with excited women. 
 Forcing his way through the press, heedless of 
 questions, he mounted the stairs, to find the room 
 of the Marseillais black with the curious crowd, 
 who shouted advice or sobbed hysterically as 
 they strove forward. Raising his voice, Dosson- 
 ville thundered: 
 
 " Silence ! " 
 
 There was a lull, and a hasty turning of 
 heads. 
 
 " In the name of the Nation I summon all 
 citoyens to depart ! The Nation takes posses- 
 sion." 
 
 Then followed a ludicrous sidling, shifting 
 rush for the door as each, fearing to be marked 
 for arrest, strove to depart unnoticed. All at 
 
 3 2 3
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 once the long arm of Dossonville shot out and 
 barred the way. 
 
 " Remain ! " 
 
 Boudgoust fell back. Again, as Cramoisin 
 sought to escape in the shelter of a fat woman, 
 the prohibition rang out : 
 
 " Remain ! " 
 
 Jambony next presenting himself, the arm of 
 Dossonville again denied the way. In the room 
 there remained at last but the wounded man, 
 unconscious on the bed, a bundle of humanity 
 crouching at the head, a doctor, and the three 
 Tapedures huddling together against the wall. 
 
 From the doorway, the solemn face of Le 
 Corbeau peered in, flanked by the mocking smirk 
 of Sans-Chagrin. Dossonville, master of the 
 quiet room, strode up and down in indecision, 
 with glowing eyes fastened on the frightened 
 three, who dared not meet the menace of his 
 glance. 
 
 After five minutes of this torture, during which 
 all awaited the order of arrest, Dossonville sud- 
 denly halted, extended his hand, and cried : 
 
 " Pass out ! " 
 
 Sans-Chagrin, fearing to misinterpret the com- 
 mand, checked the foremost, asking: 
 
 " Citoyen, are we to arrest them *? " 
 
 " Not now." 
 
 3 2 4
 
 UNRELENTING IN DEATH 
 
 Confident that the menace would rid the 
 city of the three, Dossonville turned anxiously to 
 the doctor. 
 
 " Well, citoyen, what 's your verdict ? " 
 
 "Nothing to be done." 
 
 " Will he regain consciousness ?" 
 
 " It is possible probable." 
 
 Dossonville frowned. 
 
 "How long will he live?" 
 
 " Not beyond the day." 
 
 Desiring to prevent all communication with 
 the outer world, Dossonville said, with a quick 
 resolve : 
 
 " Then I shall be forced to establish a guard. 
 The Citoyen Javogues is under arrest." 
 
 Turning to Sans-Chagrin, he gave orders to 
 allow no one to enter a command which had 
 the desired effect of hastening the departure of 
 the doctor. Approaching the bed, Dossonville 
 became aware of the figure at its side, drooped 
 over an arm of the invalid that hung down. 
 
 "Mordieu ! what 's this ? " he cried; and placing 
 his hand on the shoulder, he shook it. 
 
 The bundle resolved itself into the wild figure 
 of a girl. 
 
 "Genevieve!" 
 
 At the next moment the girl, recognizing him, 
 flew at him with a cry of hatred. Avoiding the 
 
 3 2 5
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 blind rush, Dossonville caught her by the arm, 
 crying : 
 
 " Eh, Le Corbeau, take her ! Sans-Chagrin, go 
 to his aid ! " 
 
 Feeling herself overpowered, the girl became 
 suddenly quiet, calculating, and dissimulating; 
 but from her eyes murder looked out. 
 
 " Take her below ! " 
 
 The wild light died out in the girl, who, burst- 
 ing into tears, cried : 
 
 " No, no ! Let me stay ! Let me stay ! " 
 
 " Diable ! what a complication ! " Dossonville 
 thought. Then, aloud, he cried roughly : " Im- 
 possible ! She must go ! " 
 
 Genevieve, breaking away, clasped his knees, 
 imploring pity. 
 
 " Let me stay, good, kind Dossonville. See, 
 I kiss your hands. I '11 be quiet. Let me 
 stay. I love him. I adore him. Don't take me 
 away from him now. I know he 's going to die. 
 I '11 be quiet. I '11 bless you." 
 
 " Stay, then ! " Dossonville cried angrily. " I 
 am a fool to do it." 
 
 The girl, released, flew to the bed and crouched 
 down, laying her cheek against the shaggy arm, 
 while the big eyes looked up with frightened, 
 thankful appeal. 
 
 " Go and eat," Dossonville said, turning to Sans- 
 326
 
 UNRELENTING IN DEATH 
 
 Chagrin and Le Corbeau. Accompanying them 
 to the hall, he added in a whisper : " Mingle 
 with the crowd; convey the idea of an assault. 
 Nicole was defending herself, you know. Return 
 in an hour." 
 
 He shut the door, straddled a chair, and fold- 
 ing his arms on the back, with a glance at Gene- 
 vieve, who continued motionless, entered on his 
 vigil. 
 
 In the room the only sound was from the 
 troubled breathing of the wounded man. The 
 girl did not even shift her head; while on his 
 chair Dossonville, like a statue of melancholy, 
 waited the ebbing of life, musing at this end to 
 their conflict, marveling the while at the strange 
 antipathies that set men at each other's throats 
 from their first glance. 
 
 All at once Javogues, raising himself on the 
 bed, opened his eyes and stared at Dossonville, 
 who matched the delirious glance with a quiet 
 gaze. Javogues, without deviating, stared stu- 
 pidly, then as suddenly fell back into apparent 
 insensibility again; while Genevieve, dragging 
 her body along the floor, wound her arms about 
 the bull-neck and whispered in his ear. 
 
 Again the Marseillais rose and fastened his 
 uncomprehending stare upon Dossonville. Sud- 
 denly, extending his hand, he cried : 
 
 3 2 7
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Who 's'that ? " 
 
 Falling back, he almost immediately ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " It 's Dossonville ! Ah, Dossonville ! Dos- 
 sonville ! Spy ! I have you at last ! " 
 
 " He is still delirious," Dossonville muttered, 
 drawing breath. " I thought he saw me." 
 
 *' I know it by the look in his eyes!" Javogues 
 cried from the bed. " I '11 not give my hand to 
 a spy ! Boudgoust, Cramoisin, Jambony, watch 
 him, follow him! Maillard, if he is acquitted, I 
 swear I '11 cut his throat ! " 
 
 At times he was at the siege of the Tuileries, 
 again in the court of the Abbaye, or again back 
 in the cabaret of the Bonnet Rouge on the night 
 of their first encounter. The flash burned itself 
 out again and he dropped into further insensibility. 
 
 A knock was heard on the door. Dossonville, 
 shifting slightly, said : 
 
 " Come in." 
 
 Le Corbeau and Sans-Chagrin tiptoed in and, 
 at a sign, noiselessly took their places against the 
 wall. Slight as was the interruption, it caught 
 the senses of the wounded man and seemed to 
 clear his vision. He opened his eyes and recog- 
 nized the room. A moment he remained frown- 
 ing ; then, turning to the girl, he said with a note 
 of tenderness:
 
 UNRELENTING IN DEATH 
 
 " Ah, Genevieve ! " 
 
 A sob escaped from the girl. 
 
 " What 's the matter with you ? " he cried, 
 but immediately added : " Ah, I remember." 
 
 Presently he said roughly : 
 
 "Tell me, child; what is it*?" Then, as the 
 girl buried her face in the bed to choke the sobs, 
 he answered himself: " It is death." 
 
 His eyes fixed themselves on the foot of the 
 bed, and a great breath passed through his body. 
 Presently a movement of Sans-Chagrin's crossed 
 his vision, and he raised his glance to Dossonville. 
 
 " You are here to see there 's no slip," he said 
 scornfully. 
 
 " Javogues," Dossonville said impulsively, "I 
 bear you no hatred." 
 
 " But I do ! " Javogues cried fiercely. " I have 
 never compromised with you. I '11 not do it 
 now." Turning to Genevieve, he regarded her 
 a moment, and then said softly : " Kiss me, 
 mignonne ; I know you love me." For a mo- 
 ment pain checked his breathing. "Take my 
 hand. That 's it. Don't let go of it." 
 
 " Javogues, as a mere formality," Dossonville 
 broke in, " do you wish a priest *? " 
 
 " A priest ! Yes, a priest ! " Javogues cried, 
 with a laugh of scorn. " Spy, you would make 
 me out a hypocrite ! " 
 
 3 2 9
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Man, have you no terror of God ? " 
 
 " There is no God ! " With the cry, the Ja- 
 vogues of the mob rose up, carrying Genevieve 
 to her feet. 
 
 " Have you no doubts ? " 
 
 " Bah ! " 
 
 "And if there be a God?" 
 
 " And if there be a God, I do not fear him ! " 
 he cried; and in the Titan the unconquerable 
 revolt of the Jacobin flamed out. " If there be 
 a God, he shall answer to me for what he has 
 done ! In the name of the slave and the harlot, 
 I '11 accuse him ; in the name of the galleys and 
 the prison, in the name of those who grind out 
 their lives with the labor of beasts, in the name 
 of the famished and the leper, in the name of 
 those who groan under kings and aristocrats, 
 in the name of the poor, who fight for breath, for 
 food, for sleep in the name of all misery, I '11 
 accuse him ! If there be a God, he shall answer 
 that!" 
 
 The effort exhausted him; he collapsed. 
 The listeners, struck with terror at the audacity 
 of the atheist, composed themselves with long 
 breaths. 
 
 Dossonville transferred his glance to Gene- 
 vieve bending over the hand she never quitted. 
 A half-hour passed without a movement from 
 
 33
 
 UNRELENTING IN DEATH 
 
 the girl. It began to grow dark, and on the 
 quieter air the sound of voices reached them. 
 
 Suddenly Dossonville, waiting patiently, saw 
 the girl raise her head and begin to rub the hand 
 she held. Then she stopped, sank back, and 
 pressed the hand against her heart. 
 
 Presently she raised her head and gazed in 
 perplexity at Javogues. She half rose, and drag- 
 ging her body forward, seized the head between 
 her hands, calling anxiously : 
 
 " Javogues, Javogues ! " 
 
 Almost immediately she recoiled, bounding to 
 her feet, her hands to her temples, staring aghast, 
 while the cry was torn from her heart : 
 
 " He 's dead ! " 
 
 With a scream she rushed past them out of 
 the room, and fled down-stairs. Dossonville, 
 approaching the bed, looked down upon the 
 body that was Javogues's. He looked and 
 looked, forgetting all else, until Sans-Chagrin 
 impatiently touched his arm. Then, with a 
 start, he came to himself and led the way from 
 the empty room. 
 
 33 1
 
 XI 
 
 NICOLE FORGOES THE SACRIFICE 
 
 ^ I ^HE Maison Talaru, where Dossonville pre- 
 A sented himself the next day, was the 
 strangest of all the strange prisons improvised to 
 suit the needs of the Revolution. Crowded with 
 aristocrats, it remained unmolested, thanks to the 
 enormous sums its lodgers paid for their security. 
 In return, the inmates passed the time in agree- 
 able intercourse, gambling, amusing themselves, 
 and eating well. Schmidt, the jailer, not with- 
 out a touch of humor, replaced the enormous 
 dogs which attended his confreres by a peaceable 
 lamb, whose neck and feet, decorated with pink 
 bows, never failed to reassure the new arrivals. 
 
 Placed in his lucrative position by the aid of 
 Dossonville, Schmidt had nothing to refuse his 
 protector; but, as he was at bottom avaricious, 
 he met him with an anxious query as to the 
 probable duration of Nicole's stay. 
 
 "What difference can that make to you?" 
 Dossonville replied. 
 
 33 2
 
 NICOLE FORGOES THE SACRIFICE 
 
 " The fact is, citoyen," Schmidt began cau- 
 tiously, " the citoyenne has a room to herself, at 
 your request, which brings me in eighteen livres 
 a day, which makes five hundred and forty livres 
 a month, which makes six thousand six hundred 
 livres a year. It 's a good sum." 
 
 " Mordieu ! what gratitude you must bear me, 
 my friend ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " the jailer hastened to say, but 
 with a doubtful inflection. " The ci-devant Mar- 
 quis of Talaru has only a little office, and he 
 pays that price." 
 
 "But he is the proprietor, I thought?" 
 
 *' He rented the place to the section for six 
 thousand six hundred livres." 
 
 " The price you charge him ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Good ! So he pays you back, for the privi- 
 lege of remaining a prisoner in his own home, 
 the amount of your rent. Excellent ! And they 
 say we republicans are lacking in wit ! As for 
 you, citoyen, reassure yourself; the Citoyenne 
 Nicole is here but temporarily." 
 
 " Eh, she can stay as long as she wants," 
 Schmidt said hastily, with an eye to future 
 patronage. " I only wanted you to know that I 
 have gratitude." 
 
 "And its extent," Dossonville replied with a 
 
 333
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 smile. " Lead the way with your lamb. Did the 
 citoyenne remain quiet'? Did she eat anything?" 
 
 "A nothing a sip and a nibble." 
 
 Somewhat apprehensive at this symptom, Dos- 
 sonville approached her room and entered with a 
 hearty " Well, and how goes it ? " 
 
 Nicole, still exalted and intense, without reply- 
 ing, came forward, questioning him with a glance. 
 
 " Reassure yourself, Nicole ; everything is for 
 the best," he said. Then, unable to meet the 
 persistent search of her eyes, he admitted grudg- 
 ingly: "Javogues is dead." 
 
 She inclined her head. 
 
 " When you kill a man, you know it. There 
 is an intuition. What do they say of me ? " 
 
 "Everything turned out miraculously," Dos- 
 sonville answered joyfully. " My men were on 
 guard. No one entered. Javogues did not be- 
 tray you. The belief is that you stabbed him to 
 save yourself." Without noticing the revolt in 
 her eyes, he continued eagerly : " You are in no 
 danger. I have routed the Tapedures for the 
 present. In a week I '11 transfer you to the 
 Madelonnettes, where I have Barabant safely 
 tucked away. There you can wait until the tide 
 sets against the Terrorists, and " 
 
 He stopped, perceiving his blunder, while 
 Nicole, smiling a little at his confusion, said , 
 
 334
 
 NICOLE FORGOES THE SACRIFICE 
 
 " Why do you stop ? " 
 
 As he began again lamely, she interrupted : 
 
 " No, Dossonville, you see as well as I that it 
 cannot be. Why does every one wish to save 
 me?" 
 
 " I do not understand." 
 
 " Yes, Dossonville, you do, and you see your 
 mistake. You would make me out a murderess. 
 I am not a murderess. I gave my life to the 
 Nation in exchange for Javogues's. I killed him 
 to save Barabant, to save a hundred others who 
 would perish if he had lived. As a patriot, I 
 killed him to deliver the Nation of a monster. 
 Only my life can justify the deed. Don't you 
 see *? " She took his hands in hers, saying : 
 " Dear friend, bring me before the tribunal and I 
 will bless you." 
 
 " And Barabant ? " Dossonville said desper- 
 ately. 
 
 She shook her head. In her present exalta- 
 tion all that seemed like another life which she 
 had renounced for martyrdom. 
 
 " And Barabant ? " repeated Dossonville. 
 
 "Tell him I did it to save him. He will 
 venerate my memory." She added slowly: 
 " Then I will hold a place in his heart that no 
 woman can ever take. That will be for the 
 best." 
 
 335
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Nicole, listen to me," cried Dossonville. 
 " Listen, for what I say is true. Denounce your- 
 self, and you will drag Barabant to his death. 
 Once admit your reasons for killing Javogues, 
 and Barabant dies as your accomplice." 
 
 "Oh, oh!" 
 
 Recoiling before this immense, inexorable ob- 
 stacle to her purpose, Nicole fell to her knees, 
 imploring him with her hands : 
 
 " No, no, Dossonville, you are telling me that 
 to save me." 
 
 " Yes, to save you ; but it is true. Decide for 
 yourself, but your confession sends to the guillo- 
 tine every friend you have ! " 
 
 " Dossonville ! Dossonville ! You are plung- 
 ing a dagger into my heart ! " 
 
 " Listen, Nicole; I swear to you it is the truth," 
 he said, raising her from the floor to a chair. 
 " Denounce yourself now, nothing can save him. 
 I say no more ; decide for yourself." 
 
 Leaving her limp with despair, he departed, 
 well satisfied that the leaven would work and that 
 time and reflection would temper her resolve. 
 
 The next day, instead of returning, Dosson- 
 ville sought out Barabant, obtaining from the 
 frantic lover a letter to Nicole, which he had 
 delivered by the medium of Schmidt. Each day, 
 
 33 6
 
 NICOLE FORGOES THE SACRIFICE 
 
 ignoring the demands the girl sent him by the 
 jailer, Dossonville repeated the same tactics, con- 
 fident in the power of lovers' logic to sway her 
 finally. 
 
 One misfortune disturbed his triumph. On 
 the day following Javogues's death, Louison in- 
 formed him of the execution of Goursac. Dos- 
 sonville, who from his fruitless efforts to save the 
 Girondin had retained a deep sentiment of admira- 
 tion for him, was much affected by the news, and 
 yielding to his anger, scoured the city for traces 
 of the three Tapedures. But despite the most 
 diligent search in cafe, market, and boulevard, 
 not a sign nor an echo could he find of the former 
 despots. 
 
 On the ninth day of Nicole's imprisonment, 
 Schmidt handed him a word from the girl, prom- 
 ising to reason over the decision. But Dosson- 
 ville, though encouraged, divined that she would 
 meet him with fresh arguments, and absented 
 himself, until at the end of a week he received a 
 second message : 
 
 " I renounce. Come." 
 
 Then, satisfied, he mounted to her room, grum- 
 bling to himself: 
 
 "Mordieu! one can't talk forever of dying 
 when one is young and is loved ! " 
 
 337
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 To his alarm, she received him without protes- 
 tations, while her eyes, as they regarded him sadly, 
 conceded the victory, but reproached him for the 
 means. 
 
 " I must see him," she said simply. " Take 
 me to him." 
 
 "What then*?" Dossonville questioned, sus- 
 picious of her calm. 
 
 " I will do nothing to endanger his life." 
 
 "It is a promise?" 
 
 " I promise to do nothing that will endanger 
 his life," she repeated carefully. 
 
 " She is still determined to sacrifice herself," he 
 thought. " Mordieu ! what an idea ! Barabant 
 will make her forget." 
 
 That night, toward eleven, he conducted the 
 girl to Les Madelonnettes and restored her to Bara- 
 bant. Only the lantern of the jailer lighted the 
 sleeping halls as Nicole, with a cry, flew to her 
 lover's arms. In their happiness they forgot their 
 protector ; but Dossonville, well content, with- 
 drew, drawing after him the guard. 
 
 "You seem different," Barabant said at last. 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " I have been away from you." 
 
 "How could you think of sacrificing your- 
 self? " he said reproachfully. 
 
 " I was away from you," she repeated. 
 
 338
 
 NICOLE FORGOES THE SACRIFICE 
 
 "You are here as my wife," he whispered. 
 " Citoyenne Barabant, you understand ? " 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But what is the matter ? Why do you cry ? " 
 " It is from joy," she said. 
 
 Then for the two prisoners began that weary 
 cycle of the prisons, days so incredible that even 
 those who survived looked back to them, doubt- 
 ing their memory. Everything became monot- 
 onous ; scenes of heart-rending grief, partings of 
 mothers and children, husbands torn from their 
 wives, the experience of every day cloyed in the 
 lassitude that came from too much suffering. 
 Toward six in the afternoon they assembled in 
 the main halls, listening at first with faltering 
 courage, and then with indifference, to the turn- 
 key reading the list of those summoned to the 
 bar of the Revolutionary Tribunal. 
 
 The accused passed out, sullen, resigned, 
 hoping, trusting to a straw, indifferent, tired, 
 and their names were heard no more until the fol- 
 lowing day, when a turnkey, with brutal exulta- 
 tion, read the list of those who had perished on 
 the guillotine. 
 
 A shriek, a sob, a curse, perhaps, would be 
 heard, a sudden converging where a woman had 
 fallen unconscious; but the rest stolidly, dully, 
 
 339
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 counted the hours to the next summons. New 
 arrivals, the daily papers, an occasional letter, 
 brought them news of the fantastic, heaving outer 
 world. It was JFrimaire, with tales of the drown- 
 ings at Nantes republican marriages, where 
 man and woman, tied together, were thrown into 
 the river with brutal jests; Ventose, with its in- 
 credible news that Hebert, the savage Pere Du- 
 chesne, and the bull-dogs of the Terror had fallen; 
 Germinal, more amazing than all Danton the 
 lion and Camille Desmoulins, beloved of all, 
 swept into the common fate. And all the time 
 the prisons were bursting with suspects arriving 
 by hundreds from the sections, faster than the 
 guillotine could serve them. 
 
 In Nivose the names of the Citoyen and Cito- 
 yenne Barabant were called, and hand in hand, 
 without a word, they presented themselves. 
 They entered the rolling chariot, seeing again 
 the unfamiliar streets; but it was not to trial 
 that they were borne, but to another prison, the 
 Benedictins Anglais. In Germinal they were 
 again called, and once more expecting death, 
 were again transferred, this time to the Prison 
 des Quatre Nations, with a glimpse of the sun 
 on the warm waters of the swollen Seine and the 
 breath of the spring that, as in mockery, brought 
 to their laps a shower of petals from the flower- 
 
 340
 
 NICOLE FORGOES THE SACRIFICE 
 
 i 
 ing trees. Twice again transferred, they passed 
 
 through the Hotel des Fermes and arrived in 
 Fructidor at Les Carmes. 
 
 Here new tortures awaited them from the hands 
 of their captors, clamoring for measures that 
 would empty the prisons of this constantly swell- 
 ing horde of suspects. First, the newspaper was 
 forbidden them, then all communication with the 
 outside world. On pretext that the aristocrats 
 were tempting the guards by bribery, a search 
 was instituted and all money and valuables were 
 seized. Later, another search was ordered, and 
 all knives, forks, razors, and pins were confis- 
 cated, until for a woman to keep a hair-pin ex- 
 posed, her to immediate trial. 
 
 These tyrannical measures, designed to provoke 
 complaint, failing of their purpose, the jailers had 
 recourse to petty tyranny, to insults and jibes. 
 Families were separated that they might feel the 
 force of punishment due their crimes. Minia- 
 tures of loved ones were snatched from their 
 throats, with the brutal declaration that traitors 
 had no right to consolation. The vilest bread, 
 spoiled meat, decayed herring, were put before 
 them, and when still no complaint was heard the 
 turnkey, nonplussed and furious, exclaimed : 
 
 "Damned aristocrats! What, we feed you 
 garbage and you won't complain ! " 
 
 341
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Of the two, Barabant, tired of the long sus- 
 pense, no longer retained any desire to struggle. 
 Nicole alone upheld his resolution, encouraging, 
 inspiring, invigorating him with her indomitable 
 gaiety. 
 
 In the long months, she had gone resolutely 
 and without subterfuge over the problem of their 
 relations At first, in the new flush of happiness 
 at again possessing him, she had yielded weakly, 
 and, banishing from her mind the inexorable 
 figure of Javogues,she had turned to life and hope. 
 In the ascendancy that her courage took over 
 the limp resolution of Barabant she felt in her- 
 self a new power, and in him a new need for her, 
 that tempted her with the bright vision of marriage. 
 
 As she began to reason the mood passed. For 
 the first time she saw him in the company of men 
 of intelligence and education, with whom he dis- 
 coursed on things that were to her a closed book. 
 Then she realized that between Barabant and her- 
 self was a gulf of opportunity and interests which 
 she could never bridge. He too, she soon real- 
 ized, felt insensibly the distance between them : 
 she passed for his wife, but the constant reiteration 
 never suggested to him what it brought to her. 
 To become his wife was to be a drag to his 
 future ; to remain as they were was to count the 
 hours of her youth. So, vaguely, in a confused 
 342
 
 NICOLE FORGOES THE SACRIFICE 
 
 intuition, the girl, struggling to understand what 
 was barred to her, grew to realize the limitations 
 to her life. It was a tragedy whichever way she 
 sought, but the tragedy had begun at the first 
 breath of love that had awakened her. So re- 
 nouncing the future, she returned to the thought 
 of sacrifice, to save Barabant and, appeasing 
 the manes of Javogues, to dwell in her lover's 
 heart a bright memory of youth and devotion, 
 that would abide with him through life. Therein 
 she took her courage and all her consolation. 
 
 With the arrival of Thermidor, the Terrorists, 
 checked by the passive attitude of the prisoners, 
 introduced, as suspects among the prisons, spies, 
 who, succeeding by malignant imagination where 
 brutality had failed, denounced to the Committee 
 of Safety a conspiracy by which the prisoners 
 were to escape by ropes from the windows, over- 
 power the guards, and assassinate the Convention. 
 
 The pretext was found sufficient and elastic, 
 and the hecatombs began. The spies, called 
 moufons, prepared the lists each night that sent 
 troops of twenty-five or more each day into the 
 fatal chariots, paralytics, men of seventy, feeble 
 women and maidens, the crimes of all com- 
 prised under the heading of intention to assassi- 
 nate the Convention. As fast as the prisons were 
 emptied the influx arrived, forcing more transfers. 
 
 343
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 On the yth of Thermidor, for the fifth 
 time, Nicole and Barabant were placed in the 
 chariots, to be conveyed to another prison. 
 Then Barabant, utterly tired, rebelled and 
 said : 
 
 " At last it is too much. I want to end it. I 
 can endure it no longer. Nicole, let me die now 
 and be through with the suspense. We cannot 
 escape. They are guillotining fifty a day. Next 
 month it will be a hundred. Let us be firm and 
 not await another month of torture." 
 
 "Then, Barabant, after all I have done," she 
 said reproachfully, " you would send me to the 
 guillotine ? " 
 
 " You ? " 
 
 " I follow where you go." 
 
 But their companions cried in alarm : " What 
 are you doing *? " 
 
 "You '11 betray us all!" 
 
 " For mercy's sake, be silent ! " 
 
 Barabant, without energy to pursue long any 
 determination, resigned himself wearily to their 
 protests and the appeal of Nicole. 
 
 The chariot rolled out into the streets, where 
 the passers-by, weighted down with the prevailing 
 depression, regarded them without hatred and 
 without curiosity. Their journey led them by 
 the gardens of the Luxembourg, resplendent with 
 
 344
 
 NICOLE FORGOES THE SACRIFICE 
 
 green and the glisten of cool fountains. In the 
 chariot some one said : 
 
 " Pleasant weather ! " 
 
 " What good does that do us ? " grumbled 
 another. 
 
 *' I played there as a youngster ; but what of 
 that?" 
 
 " It does not seem different. How curious ! " 
 
 " Where are we going ? " 
 
 "To the Porte-Libre." 
 
 " I was there in Prairial." 
 
 " What 's it like ? " 
 
 " The same as the rest." 
 
 The whispered comments ceased as the prison 
 loomed over them. The carts ground on the 
 cobblestones, passing the gate. From somewhere 
 among them a sigh was heard. A voice said, 
 with a low laugh : 
 
 " Here 's the inn. All down ! " 
 
 They passed to the office for identification and 
 enrolment, and on through a square into the 
 strange corridor to the hall, where a score of 
 inmates straggled in curiously to see if they 
 recognized any of the new arrivals. There, to 
 her despair, Nicole beheld, in the shadow of a 
 pillar, screened a little from the crowd, the face 
 she had dreaded for months to encounter the 
 malignant face of Cramoisin, the Tapedure. 
 
 345
 
 XII 
 
 THE FATHER OF LOUISON 
 
 THE turbulent months which devastated the 
 city with the fury of a pest had been to Dos- 
 sonville an exhilaration. Paths beset with a hun- 
 dred pitfalls he ran with enjoyment, passing from 
 side to side with agility and alacrity, reveling in 
 intrigues, nourished by entanglements. But the 
 recrudescence of the Terror alarmed him in one 
 way, for it rendered him powerless to aid Bara- 
 bant and Nicole. He still watched over them, 
 but even he dared not risk a communication, for 
 the moment had arrived when it sufficed no 
 longer to be Jacobin or Moderate. To sleep 
 securely at home one must have been born lucky. 
 The death of Javogues and the disappearance 
 of Cramoisin, Boudgoust, and Jambony had left 
 the domination of Dossonville undisputed. Gene- 
 vieve alone remained ; but the girl, violently cast 
 into womanhood by the spark of love, had re- 
 lapsed into childhood. He saw her once or twice 
 struggling under the weight of a bucket of water, 
 346
 
 THE FATHER OF LOUISON 
 
 a child again opening its uncomprehending 
 eyes on the world. 
 
 Thus left to the liberty of his own pursuits, 
 Dossonville had passed the time running the 
 streets, nose in the wind, smelling out the popular 
 favor, prying, laughing, never abandoning his 
 equanimity, furious and frantic when it was nec- 
 essary, moderate and smooth of speech when 
 clemency was in the air. 
 
 So that the prudent, desiring no more than to 
 agree with the strong, had trimmed their sails by 
 the conduct of Le Corbeau and Sans-Chagrin,who 
 reflected the mood of their inscrutable leader. In 
 Nivose, when a wave of pity swept over the 
 Convention, nothing could have been more touch- 
 ing than the laments of Sans-Chagrin, while the 
 glance of Le Corbeau was benevolence itself. 
 Their weapons disappeared, replaced by bouton- 
 nieres, while, lingering behind their leader, they 
 jested with all comers. 
 
 With the news of the wholesale drownings at 
 Nantes and the revival of massacres, the two had 
 put forth cutlasses and pistols as a chestnut blos- 
 soms overnight, and, stalking abroad with violent 
 gestures and furious speech, struck dismay in all 
 who met their suspicious glances. 
 
 But the leader who, with a sign, worked these 
 sudden transformations was always at the head, 
 
 347
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 imperturbable, alert, and impudent, twirling as 
 his only weapon the little ivory wand with which 
 he whipped circles in the air. 
 
 Occasionally he saw Louison, when the execu- 
 tion of a Mme. Du Barry or a Maillard drew him 
 to the spectacle of the guillotine. Between the 
 singular girl and himself there developed a curi- 
 ous attraction and repulsion, which impelled or 
 checked his interest as regularly as the ebb and 
 flow of the tides. When he saw her on the 
 boulevards he felt strongly her magnetism, but 
 in the vicinity of the guillotine she caused him a 
 cold, almost repulsive, sensation. 
 
 So marked were her habits that a few had 
 even bestowed on her the soubriquet of " the 
 daughter of the guillotine." At the Cabaret de 
 la Guillotine, where at lunch the menu bore the 
 list of those to be executed in the afternoon, she 
 was pointed out as the one who had never missed 
 a performance. When discussions arose as to an 
 execution, it was always Louison who was ap- 
 pealed to to decide. 
 
 This development astounded Dossonville, 
 then annoyed him, and finally aroused him to 
 such a pitch of disgust that one day he broke 
 out: 
 
 " Louison, it is not right, nor human, nor de- 
 cent to give way to such a curiosity. You 
 
 348
 
 THE FATHER OF LOUISON 
 
 must stop it. It is dangerous. It will be- 
 come a mania. Already you seem at times in- 
 human." 
 
 " Others are there every day," she protested. 
 
 " But not like you. You must stop. What, 
 does it please you to be called the daughter of 
 the guillotine ? " 
 
 "I don't know. It is always pleasant to be 
 known." 
 
 " It is repellent.'* 
 
 " Don't come, then." 
 
 For a fortnight he absented himself, angry 
 and disturbed. But in measure as she ceased to 
 appeal to his interest she perplexed his curiosity, 
 and he was impelled more and more to study 
 her, seeking to understand the reasons of her in- 
 difference to suffering and the evident absence of 
 emotion. At the end of two weeks, she met him 
 on the boulevards with an amused smile. 
 
 " Since you persist in regarding me as a curi- 
 osity," she said, "you might try what you can 
 discover. Mama is back." 
 
 Dossonville, without waiting to be urged twice, 
 made a trip to the shop of the wig-maker and 
 discovered that la Mere Baudrier had indeed 
 returned from the provinces. So that night, to- 
 ward eleven o'clock, he led his watch-dogs back, 
 relying on a plan of campaign which he had 
 
 349
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 imagined to force a revelation. Stationing Sans- 
 Chagrin at the door, under which showed a slit 
 of light, he knocked and entered without await- 
 ing permission. 
 
 A woman, shading a candle, came precipi- 
 tately down the stairs, crying : 
 
 " Who 's there, and what do you want ? " 
 
 " Are you la Mere Baudrier ? " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Are you ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Descend ; I wish to speak with you." 
 
 She came down slowly, regarding him with 
 alarmed surprise. 
 
 " Who are you ? " 
 
 "The Citoyen Dossonville. I represent the 
 Nation." 
 
 Then, while the look changed to one of dis- 
 may, she blurted : 
 
 " But what has the Nation to do with me *? " 
 
 " Do not fear, citoyenne, you will have every 
 chance to excuse yourself." 
 
 " Then I am to be arrested *? " 
 
 Dossonville, without replying, said : 
 
 " Lead the way to the back ; I must speak 
 with you alone." 
 
 She obeyed, repeating : 
 
 " Am I under arrest ? Am I *? There 's some 
 
 350
 
 THE FATHER OF LOUISON 
 
 mistake. I 'm the Citoyenne Baudrier. Of what 
 can I be accused ? " 
 
 " Exactly on that point I am to interrogate 
 you. It may be long; sit down." 
 
 La Mere Baudrier, trembling, took a chair, 
 never ceasing her mumbling. 
 
 "But what? I don't understand. Why, 
 every one will tell you that I am a patriot." 
 
 Dossonville, who had been a moment inter- 
 ested in the resemblance of daughter and mother, 
 seized upon the last word. 
 
 " Citoyenne, there 's the point : what consti- 
 tutes a patriot ? Do you know the law of sus- 
 pects "? " He tilted back his head and closed his 
 eyes, not so tightly though as to miss the expres- 
 sion of her face. " These are declared suspects : 
 
 "All aristocrats. 
 
 "All priests. 
 
 " All Moderates. 
 
 "All those who, although they have done 
 nothing against the Nation, have done nothing 
 for it." 
 
 He examined the prisoner carefully as he con- 
 tinued, emphasizing each word : 
 
 " All those who correspond with the enemies 
 of the country. 
 
 " All who habitually entertain strangers. 
 
 "All those who in the past have been associ- 
 
 351
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 ated with the aristocrats, whether as servant, mis- 
 tress, or friend." 
 
 " She does not seem to fear the word aristo- 
 crat," Dossonville added to himself. Then aloud: 
 " Citoyenne Baudrier, you are accused of favor- 
 ing the aristocrats." 
 
 A look of amazement overspread the woman's 
 features, which was so complete an answer to the 
 charge that he added quickly : 
 
 "Citoyenne, you are said to have been very 
 intimate in the past with the ci-devant nobles." 
 
 The blank look of astonishment gave place to 
 one of indignation. 
 
 " I ? I, the Citoyenne Baudrier ? Come, 
 that 's a joke ! " 
 
 " Citoyenne Baudrier, listen to me," Dosson- 
 ville said, checking the explosion, "you are ac- 
 cused of having a daughter whose parentage you 
 will not reveal, because the father is a ci-devant 
 aristocrat and an enemy of his country." 
 
 At this point-blank accusation, to his surprise, 
 she rose and said scornfully, with her hands on 
 her hips : 
 
 " Ah, I see this is a trick of Louison's." 
 
 For answer he displayed the shield of an agent 
 de surete. La Mere Baudrier, overwhelmed, fell 
 back, covering her face with her hands, while a 
 single word escaped her : 
 352
 
 THE FATHER OF LOUISON 
 
 " Never ! " 
 
 " Citoyenne," Dossonville cried sternly, " I 
 warn you that only by proving the parentage of 
 your daughter can you clear yourself. If you re- 
 fuse, you must answer before the Tribunal to the 
 accusation." 
 
 The woman shook her head without look- 
 ing up. 
 
 " Le Corbeau ! Sans-Chagrin ! " he called. 
 
 At the noise of their entrance into the hall she 
 sprang up, crying : " Wait ! Wait ! " 
 
 Giving them an order to halt, Dossonville re- 
 turned, saying roughly : 
 
 " Well, have you decided to speak "? " 
 
 For a moment the woman remained swaying, 
 babbling to herself; then suddenly she sank back, 
 crying : 
 
 "No, no!" 
 
 " Undoubtedly it is an aristocrat, and some one 
 formidable," Dossonville thought, seeing the pallor 
 of her face. Then, raising his voice, he called 
 his men. 
 
 At their entrance a trembling seized the body 
 of the woman, but at the sight of the mocking 
 face of Sans-Chagrin she recoiled as before a 
 vision, and a scream escaped her. 
 
 "The Cure Sans-Souci! The Cure Sans- 
 Souci!" 
 
 353
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Who calls me by that name ? " Sans-Chagrin 
 cried, his face assuming a look of amazement. 
 "Tiens! but I know that woman.!" 
 
 Suddenly he struck his head. 
 
 " Of course ! " he cried. " Pardi ! what is 
 there so terrible about me ? I was always a good 
 friend to you, La Glorieuse." 
 
 " You knew it, then, all the while ? " the 
 woman cried, turning fiercely to Dossonville. 
 
 " I know nothing," Dossonville answered ; and 
 seeing that chance had come in somehow to his 
 aid, he demanded curtly of Sans-Chagrin : " What 
 do you know of her ? " 
 
 " A good deal," Sans-Chagrin began, with a 
 smile. " I confessed her when I was a ci-devant 
 cure in the days of fanaticism and error." 
 
 La Mere Baudrier, very white, extended her 
 hand for permission to Dossonville, who said 
 encouragingly : 
 
 " Allons, you are going to be reasonable 
 now?" 
 
 " I will speak." She turned to Sans-Chagrin. 
 " Citoyen Sans-Souci " 
 
 " I am Sans-Chagrin now." 
 
 "Citoyen Sans-Chagrin, they accuse me of 
 having a daughter by an aristocrat Louison, the 
 bouquetiere." 
 
 " But your little one was called Rose." 
 
 354
 
 THE FATHER OF LOUISON 
 
 " I changed the name afterward." For a mo- 
 ment she was thrown into confusion, but rallying, 
 she continued : " You can say if the father was 
 an aristocrat." 
 
 " I should hope so : it was I that baptized her. 
 Come, now, what was he called ? La Gloire 
 la, le no, Lajoie, Simon Lajoie, that 's it." 
 
 " Simon Lajoie ! " 
 
 The thunderclap was Dossonville's, who, 
 thrown off his guard, caught Sans-Chagrin by 
 the shoulder, repeating: 
 
 " Simon Lajoie ! " 
 
 But immediately, by a violent effort, he con- 
 trolled himself, and dismissing them hurriedly, 
 turned his back on the frightened woman, seek- 
 ing to regain his composure. When he turned, 
 it was with the calm of intense excitement. 
 
 " Is that the Simon Lajoie who used to fre- 
 quent the Cafe Procope *? " 
 
 The woman remained dumb. 
 
 "Is it?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Good. Your explanations are sufficient. 
 You are released." 
 
 He watched the look of immense relief that 
 spread over her countenance as she rose, with a 
 mumbled thanks, and started for the door. 
 
 " By the way, citoyenne," he cried carelessly ; 
 
 355
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " one moment. Come back. Sit down. Could 
 the Citoyen Lajoie have been any one in dis- 
 guise ? " 
 
 Terrified and trapped, the woman sprang up. 
 
 "For instance, the good Citoyen Charles 
 Sanson?" 
 
 Her answer was a shriek and the thud of her 
 body falling in a swoon to the floor. 
 
 356
 
 XIII 
 
 DAUGHTER OF THE GUILLOTINE 
 
 /CERTAINLY, he is demented," Le Cor- 
 v_^ beau cried when, after a dozen zigzags, 
 Dossonville continued to plunge furiously ahead 
 up street after street. 
 
 "Decidedly so," grumbled Sans-Chagrin. 
 " Here 's three times we 've passed the Tour St. 
 Jacques." 
 
 "What the devil could have happened?" 
 
 " You know Lajoie ? " 
 
 "Why, of course a little insignificant man." 
 
 " It was perhaps his brother." 
 
 " He had n't the look." 
 
 " Anyhow, I say it 's time to rest." 
 
 " My legs are worn out." 
 
 " If we suggested a halt ? " 
 
 " I don't dare." 
 
 " Neither do I." 
 
 Oblivious to their fatigue, Dossonville wan- 
 dered on in absurd circles, heedless of his sur- 
 roundings, while if he passed a corner three times 
 
 357
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 he did not notice it once. Vain and proud in 
 his imperturbability, for the first time he was 
 completely unnerved by this vision of the execu- 
 tioner that rose up at the side of the girl whom 
 he had been on the verge of loving. All at once 
 the mystery of her character was revealed, the in- 
 sensibility to suffering, the unnatural curiosity, 
 and the sang-froid beyond a woman. 
 
 " What an inheritance ! What a curse ! " he 
 repeated. 
 
 Under the broken silhouettes of the housetops 
 across the luminous sky, from out the mysterious, 
 vague corners of the night, there started up, 
 more ghostly and more sinister, the shadowy 
 dynasty of the Sansons, the pariahs accursed, 
 isolated, loathed, flinging themselves in vain 
 against the barriers of prejudice, striving to 
 escape into the obscurity of their fellows, 
 always discovered, always driven back on the 
 fingers of the crowd, that shrank away even as it 
 pursued. 
 
 Back of the furtive figure of Sanson appeared 
 the troop of malign ancestors, masked in scarlet or 
 in black, nonchalant in their blood service, while 
 behind hovered the red cloud of victims, men, 
 women, priests, nuns, children and gray-heads, 
 in long danse macabre around the ax, the gal- 
 lows, and the guillotine ; and among the Sansons, 
 
 358
 
 DAUGHTER OF THE GUILLOTINE 
 
 he saw, calm and uncomprehending, the figure 
 of Louison. 
 
 Suddenly above his head rose the twin shafts 
 of the guillotine, dominating the desert of the 
 night. Then trembling, aghast at this sinister 
 menace, Dossonville, with a cry of horror, turned 
 and fled from the inanimate thing that waited 
 there relentlessly the coming of the day. 
 
 In the first recoil from his personal association, 
 he had promised himself never again to encounter 
 Louison; but with the morning she seemed so 
 expelled from his past that, yielding to an over- 
 powering desire to study her in the light of his 
 new knowledge, he drifted, almost unconsciously, 
 to the Place de la Revolution. 
 
 The crowd in which he sheltered himself was 
 loose, not very attentive, nor very large : the 
 spectacle was old ; there was not enough variety 
 in the performers. In front, scores of women, 
 seated indolently on their chairs, suspended their 
 knitting at each fall of the ax, counting: 
 
 " Twenty." 
 
 " Twenty-one." 
 
 At each execution a murmur wandered through 
 the crowd a conventional, listless, slurred cry: 
 
 " Vive la Nation ! " 
 
 Louison, never still, moved among the trico- 
 
 359
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 teuses, nodding and chatting. As each hum 
 announced the arrival of a victim on the scaffold 
 she turned for a momentary, prying glance ; then, 
 without interest, wheeling about, she cried her 
 cockades, seeking in the crowd a likely customer. 
 
 Absorbed in the girl, marveling at the strange 
 and terrible forces that drew her back to the 
 parent scaffold, Dossonville fell into so deep an 
 abstraction that it cost him his concealment. 
 Before he could retire with the departing crowd, 
 Louison, perceiving him, had hastened to his side. 
 
 " What happened last night *? " she said, with 
 an imperious gesture. "What did you say to 
 my mother ? " 
 
 " How do you know I saw her *? " he said, 
 unable to control a slight movement of recoil. 
 
 " I know it. What happened? " she demanded 
 impatiently. " I was there this morning, but she 
 was gone gone during the night. What passed 
 between you ? " 
 
 " You have been misinformed." 
 
 "Dossonville, you are deceiving me," she said, 
 looking in his face. "You saw her, and you 
 learned the name of my father." 
 
 Without allowing time for denial, she took his 
 
 arm and led him toward the Cours la Reine, 
 
 turning among the bypaths of the luxuriant 
 
 woods. There, amid the joyous gaiety of the 
 
 360
 
 DAUGHTER OF THE GUILLOTINE 
 
 spring, under the soft foliage of the chestnuts, 
 she faced him with a peremptory question : 
 
 " You saw her ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " She told you ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 Louison examined his face attentively. 
 
 "What is the matter with you to-day, and 
 why do you conceal it from me ? Did you not 
 promise to tell me ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Then?" 
 
 " Nothing has happened." 
 
 " Dossonville, you are lying lamely," she said; 
 then she added, with a frown : " My father was a 
 great scoundrel, then ? " 
 
 Dossonville did not reply. 
 
 " How stupid you are ! You think it would 
 make a difference. How does it affect me? 
 Come, I am not responsible, no matter who it is. 
 Tell me. It cannot affect me." 
 
 " It will." 
 
 " Then you know," she said instantly. 
 
 Dossonville shrugged his shoulders. He de- 
 sired the appearance of resistance more than to 
 resist, for his curiosity was stronger than his pity. 
 But having thus betrayed himself, he added im- 
 pressively : 
 
 361
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Do not force me to tell you." 
 
 She began to laugh. 
 
 "Louison, I warn you, do not demand to 
 know." 
 
 " I do demand it. I insist." 
 
 " You will curse me." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I cannot tell you." 
 
 " Who is it ? " she cried, with a laugh. " Phi- 
 lippe Egalite, a farmer-general, Bailly, Capet 
 even, I mention the worst." 
 
 " Louison," he said shortly, " they call you the 
 daughter of the guillotine." 
 
 She stopped, perplexed. 
 
 " You are well named." 
 
 " Don't return to that," she said irritably. " It 
 was agreed we were not to mention that. Come, 
 don't keep me waiting. I tell you it will make 
 no difference." 
 
 " You absolve me ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Even if Sanson were your father ? " 
 
 Louison burst out laughing, but suddenly she 
 broke off at the sight of his face. 
 
 " Is that serious ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She repeated, " Is that serious *? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 362
 
 DAUGHTER OF THE GUILLOTINE 
 
 " I am the daughter of Sanson ? " 
 
 Dossonville inclined his head, awaiting the 
 explosion. To his surprise, she remained quiet, 
 withdrawing a little, while her eyes still waited 
 on him, as though expecting a denial. 
 
 " How curious ! " she said at length. " I never 
 thought of that. Ah, I understand why she hid 
 it. Now tell me all." 
 
 Seeing that she did not realize the extent of 
 the revelation, Dossonville quickly related the 
 facts, astonished at her calm, wondering what 
 force was working beneath the surface. 
 
 Louison, in fact, unable immediately to com- 
 prehend the situation, continued to watch Dos- 
 sonville, as though to estimate from his behavior 
 the force of the change to her. Remembering 
 his attempted escape on the Place de la Revolu- 
 tion, and alarmed at a new reserve in his manner, 
 she asked herself angrily, albeit anxiously, what 
 difference the knowledge would make in him. 
 To test him, she advanced a step and said, hold- 
 ing out her arms as though to embrace him : 
 
 " Thanks, my friend ; you have kept your 
 promise." 
 
 He withdrew but a step and only for an in- 
 stant, but that involuntary shrinking was her 
 sentence. 
 
 With a cry of despair, she bounded back, 
 
 363
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 transformed with hot, revolting anger, her fingers 
 struggling against the temptation of the dagger, 
 crying to him : 
 
 " Go ! Go quickly ! Go now ! " 
 Then, distrusting the murder in her heart, she 
 fled into the woods; but in a moment, crazed 
 with the cruel injustice of her fate, she came run- 
 ning back, her lips trembling with passion, her 
 breath cut and quick. With his accustomed 
 prudence, Dossonville had retired by another 
 direction, leaving Louison to tire herself out 
 among the fragrant paths in fruitless, maddened 
 rushings. 
 
 Gradually among the tricoteuses, the bouque- 
 tieres, and the clientele of the Cabaret de la Guil- 
 lotine it began to be whispered that something 
 extraordinary had happened to Louison. Her 
 manner had changed. She was no longer indif- 
 ferent, mocking, and careless under the scaffold. 
 Instead, her companions began to be alarmed at 
 the cloud on her brow, the brooding fixity of her 
 glance, the abruptness and the poverty of her 
 speech. Her questions were even stranger than 
 her moods. One day she asked of her compan- 
 ion, thrusting her hand toward the guillotine : 
 
 "Does that affect you to see them die like 
 that?" 
 
 3 6 4
 
 DAUGHTER OF THE GUILLOTINE 
 
 " I dream sometimes at nights," the girl an- 
 swered. 
 
 Then Louison, turning on her an uncompre- 
 hending glance, exclaimed : 
 
 "True?" 
 
 Another time she- said: 
 
 " Does n't that make you curious ? " 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 " Curious to know what you would do." 
 
 Those who repeated her remarks exclaimed in 
 apprehension and tapped their foreheads. As a 
 natural consequence, the most extraordinary ru- 
 mors arose. One declared that she had been 
 seen thrice at midnight prowling about the vicin- 
 ity of the scaffold. Another affirmed that he on 
 whom she looked with anger would perish. 
 Others, scorning these absurd rumors, gave it as 
 their opinion that her mind was shaken by her 
 unnatural obsession. The girl did not fail to 
 notice the change in the demeanor of her com- 
 panions, and, in her tortured imagination, ascribed 
 to it a different cause. 
 
 "Why do they draw away from me?" she 
 said once. 
 
 " It 's your imagination." 
 
 "Are you superstitious?" she said disjointedly. 
 
 " I ? A little." 
 
 " Why do they call me the daughter of 
 
 3 6 5
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 the guillotine ? Does n't that strike you as 
 odd?" 
 
 And she threw upon her companion a quick, 
 cunning glance, as though to surprise the momen- 
 tary confusion that would expose her real know- 
 ledge. 
 
 Thermidor began with the hecatombs from the 
 pretended Conspiracy of the Prisons, and the 
 transfer of the guillotine to the Barriere du Trone 
 Renverse. The great rolling biers, attended by 
 the scum of the city, bore each day to the scaffold 
 their thirty, forty, sixty victims. Even the Fau- 
 bourg St. Antoine, satiated and appalled, began 
 to grumble, while from time to time voices broke 
 out in protestation, willing from mere lassitude 
 to end the spectacle by their own sacrifice. 
 
 On the 6th of Thermidor, almost at the side 
 of Louison, a bouquetiere, her comrade, cried 
 out: 
 
 " I am sick of it ! Robespierre is a scoundrel. 
 They kill too many people. I want to die." 
 
 The next day she was on the scaffold, looking 
 down indifferently, contented to end the fatigue 
 of surfeited disgust. 
 
 Louison laughed aloud. 
 
 " Why do you laugh ? " her neighbor said. 
 " What has she done to you ? " 
 
 " I do not laugh at her," she answered impa- 
 366
 
 DAUGHTER OF THE GUILLOTINE 
 
 tiently. " I laughed because I told her I would 
 go first." 
 
 Her companion edged away. The tricoteuses, 
 stopping their needles, counted : 
 
 " Forty-eight ! " 
 
 At that moment Louison beheld Dossonville 
 on the outskirts of the crowd. Seizing the girl 
 nearest to her, a child of fifteen, by the shoulder, 
 she cried, with a furious gesture : 
 
 " Jeanneton, do you see that fellow over there ? 
 He thinks I can't see him, the fool ! As though 
 I cared ! " 
 
 The child struggled to free herself, but Louison, 
 without relaxing her hold, transferred her look to 
 the scaffold. Twice again the murmur rose : 
 
 " Forty-nine ! " 
 
 " Fifty ! " 
 
 "Do you know what I am wondering?" 
 Louison said suddenly to the child whimpering 
 in her clutch. " How strange it must feel to be 
 there." 
 
 All at once, releasing the frightened Jeanneton, 
 she advanced toward the guillotine, as though 
 irresistibly sucked into the maelstrom, stopped, 
 drew her hand across her forehead, then, facing 
 the crowd, flung away her basket of flowers and 
 shouted : 
 
 "Vive le Roi!" 
 
 3 6 7
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 In an instant she was surrounded, while every- 
 where the cries went up : 
 
 " She is mad ! " 
 
 " She is drunk ! " 
 
 " We have seen it for weeks." 
 
 " She is not responsible." 
 
 " She is a patriot" 
 
 Others insisted : 
 
 " Arrest her ! " 
 
 " The Nation is insulted ! " 
 
 " No favor ! " 
 
 About the fringes of the crowd they questioned 
 excitedly, running to and fro : 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 " Louison." 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 "Yes, Louison." 
 
 " She is mad ! " 
 
 About her the mass struggled and swayed, 
 some crying to her to simulate drunkenness, 
 others clamoring for her arrest. In the center, 
 Louison, alone calm and indifferent, secure in 
 the knowledge of what must follow, continued 
 to regard the silhouette of the guillotine, while 
 about her lips was that curious smile which is 
 seen only on the face of the martyr or the insane.
 
 XIV 
 
 THE LAST ON THE LIST 
 
 /IS Nicole, in the hall of the Porte-Libre, 
 JLJL. stopped aghast at this apparition of their 
 enemy, Cramoisin perceived her, and scuttling 
 hurriedly forward, cried in triumph : 
 
 " Bonjour, Nicole. What luck, eh *? Well, 
 are n't you going to say good day ? " 
 
 " Bonjour," she answered hastily. 
 
 " And Barabant, too," he cried. " Better still, 
 and so glad to see me ! Bonjour, Barabant." 
 
 " Ah, it 's you, hypocrite ! " Barabant answered 
 scornfully. 
 
 There was a movement of incredulity and 
 alarm among the prisoners, who hastened to 
 withdraw from them. Cramoisin, as though 
 whipped across the face, fell back, scowling and 
 cursing, while Nicole, seizing Barabant's arm, 
 cried : 
 
 " Barabant, what have you done ? " 
 
 " Nicole," he answered, " do you remember 
 what Goursac said when they arrested him ? " 
 
 369
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 "No." 
 
 " * They are liberating me.' Well, I too wish 
 to be free. I have lived like a dog for months. 
 That is ended. I will not cringe before this 
 bully, who will send us to-morrow to the guillo- 
 tine." 
 
 " Then you are determined to die *? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " So be it." 
 
 They took their places at the long table, hud- 
 dling among the famished and the fever-racked, 
 while the scullions brought in pails the revolting 
 food. Anxious to learn the position of Cramoi- 
 sin, Nicole was about to question her neighbor, 
 an abbe whose kindly look encouraged her, when 
 Cramoisin, suddenly appearing at her shoulder, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Eh, Nicole, my dear, if you want to know 
 what I am doing here, ask me. I '11 tell you. I 
 am the secretary of the Conspiration. I keep a 
 list of all the good conspirators and I see that 
 they are rewarded. I bring good luck. I 've 
 been here but a week and we 've guillotined 
 forty ! " 
 
 " You know him *? " the priest asked as the 
 bully swaggered down the line, and Nicole per- 
 ceived the slight movement with which he drew 
 away. 
 
 37
 
 THE LAST ON THE LIST 
 
 " He is our bitterest enemy." 
 
 " Pardon," he murmured, regarding her with 
 compassion. 
 
 " We expect death," she answered quietly. 
 
 " What he says is true," he added in a whisper. 
 " Since he has been here they have taken forty 
 of us. He makes out the lists every night. We 
 live at his pleasure." 
 
 "Does he live among us? " she asked, with a 
 quickened interest. 
 
 Again Cramoisih returned, strutting with bom- 
 bastic gestures, crying to the room : 
 
 "I am the friend of Fouquier. Fouquier 
 promised me to-day that in two more weeks 
 we could put out a sign, * To let.' Is n't he 
 kind to us, though ? He 's very sympathetic, is 
 Fouquier. And I am his friend I, Eugene 
 Franz Cramoisin. He honors me with his con- 
 fidence. Eat in peace. I '11 speak to him about 
 you. Don't worry." 
 
 He swaggered on, vaunting his intimacy, 
 loudly assuring them he brought good luck. 
 
 Nicole anxiously repeated her question. 
 
 " He keeps up the farce of being a prisoner," 
 her neighbor answered. 
 
 " Where does he lodge ? " 
 
 " Near you, where the new arrivals are put." 
 
 " Sangdieu ! " rose again the voice of Cra- 
 
 37 *
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 moisin, who, farther down, had halted at the side 
 of a woman. " The herring is rotten. Do you 
 not see it*? Come, you must complain." 
 
 " It is all I need," came the faint answer. " I 
 am not hungry." 
 
 " Bah, you aristocrats, you have n't the cour- 
 age of dogs ! " He returned to another : "And 
 you, young man, they treat you badly, eh *? 
 Shall I complain to Fouquier?" 
 
 The youth, who had imprudently met his eye, 
 instantly dropped his head ; but Cramoisin, amid 
 the jeers of the turnkeys, with a pretense of 
 listening for his answer, exclaimed : 
 
 "What 's that you say? Robespierre is a 
 scoundrel ? " 
 
 " I said nothing ! " 
 
 "Then you thought it, and thoughts are 
 offenses ! " 
 
 Arrived opposite Barabant, he planted himself 
 with folded arms and cried : 
 
 " Well, Citoyen Barabant, the food 's good, 
 eh?" 
 
 Pushing back his plate, Barabant likewise 
 folded his arms and answered with a sneer : 
 
 " Do you think so ? " 
 
 " To me it is delicious ! " 
 
 " That 's not astonishing, it 's the food of 
 swine ! " 
 
 37 2
 
 THE LAST ON THE LIST 
 
 A murmur rumbled over the hall, rising to 
 weak cries of protests : 
 
 "No." 
 
 " He slanders it." 
 
 " We don't think so, citoyen." 
 
 Others implored Barabant to be silent, trem- 
 bling at his rash speech, that would suffice to 
 empty the prison. Under pretense of upbraiding 
 him, they surrounded him, beseeching him to have 
 a thought of their danger. Yielding to their terror, 
 Barabant remained silent; but when, after the 
 meal, they had dispersed to their rooms, he ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " Ah, that did me good ! I feel I am a man 
 again. Nicole, to-night I shall sleep soundly for 
 the first time in months, knowing that after to- 
 morrow I may sleep more soundly." 
 
 Waiting barely long enough to assure herself 
 of his unconsciousness, Nicole withdrew from his 
 side and stole down the corridor, seeking until 
 she found under a door a slit of light. 
 
 At her soft entrance Cramoisin started up in 
 alarm from the desk where he had been prepar- 
 ing his list, and placed the chair between them. 
 
 " I am not come to harm you," she said dis- 
 dainfully. Still for a moment he eyed her in 
 doubt, before he was reassured. He grumbled : 
 
 " What do you want ^ " 
 
 373
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 From where she was she could see the list, and 
 at its head the one name she dreaded to find. 
 
 "Read, if you wish," he said indifferently. 
 " It will give you pleasure." 
 
 There were ten names in all, Barabant's being 
 the first, and hers was not of the number. 
 
 " I have something to ask of you." 
 
 "Ask." 
 
 " I do not ask that we be sent to the guillotine 
 together," she said, planning cunningly to avoid 
 one danger. " That would be too great a con- 
 solation for you to accord us. Exchange my 
 name for Barabant's." 
 
 " Nini," he said, watching her with covetous, 
 blinking eyes. " I don't intend to let you go." 
 
 "If you will send me instead," she cried; "if 
 you swear it, swear to spare him, I will give you 
 a secret that will earn you the gratitude of Fou- 
 quier." 
 
 " You are too pretty," he said, with a smirk ; 
 " when one is as pretty as that, one is a patriot." 
 
 " You will not accept ? " 
 
 " What, after this evening *? " 
 
 " Citoyen," she cried, " he is in a delirium ! It 
 was the fever." 
 
 " Yes, indeed." 
 
 " Citoyen, he admitted to me that it was un- 
 just." 
 
 374
 
 THE LAST ON THE LIST 
 
 " He shall go. You I '11 keep." 
 
 " Citoyen Cramoisin," Nicole said coldly, "you 
 can never make me belong to you, if that is your 
 purpose. You are not Javogues, and I killed 
 Javogues. Do you understand ? " 
 
 Before the fire in her eyes Cramoisin shrank 
 away, mumbling: 
 
 ** You are more difficult than the women of 
 the aristocrats." 
 
 " I give you my secret ! " Nicole cried in de- 
 spair. " Use it for your own good. I did not 
 kill Javogues because he pursued me ; I killed 
 him to destroy a tyrant. Place my name there 
 instead of Barabant's, and I will affirm it before 
 the Tribunal. You will have the credit of dis- 
 covering a plot. Fouquier will reward you." 
 
 " Is that your secret ? " Cramoisin said con- 
 temptuously. " Nothing new in that." 
 
 " What ! You knew," she cried, " and held 
 back my name *? " 
 
 " Bah ! When one is dead, one is no longer a 
 patriot." 
 
 " Citoyen Cramoisin, listen. If you will put 
 my name on the list instead of Barabant's, I '11 
 give you all the money I have." 
 
 To her joy, he looked up with a sudden in- 
 terest. 
 
 " How much have you ? " 
 
 375
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Twenty livres." 
 
 At the mention of this amount, which Nicole 
 had managed to preserve, his eye became elo- 
 quent; but suddenly controlling himself, he asked: 
 
 "Paper?" 
 
 "Gold." 
 
 " You have it with you *? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Let 's see it." 
 
 " When you agree." 
 
 " It is right to be merciful," he said at last, 
 with a sigh. " But I cannot spare him more than 
 one day." 
 
 " For a week ? " she pleaded. 
 *He shook his head. 
 
 "Six days five?" 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " Cramoisin, for pity's sake, four ? " 
 
 " Never, never ! " 
 
 " Cramoisin, by your hope of salvation ! " 
 
 " I '11 give you three ; not another hour." 
 
 He stretched out his hand. 
 
 "No; erase first." 
 
 He took off the name of Barabant and substi- 
 tuted, "The woman Nicole." 
 
 " What did you write ? " 
 
 " T^he woman Nicole." 
 
 " Put the Citoyenne Nicole Barabant." 
 
 37 6
 
 THE LAST ON THE LIST 
 
 "What ! You are his wife ? " 
 
 " Put it down." 
 
 " There ! Give me the money." 
 
 " And you will keep Barabant's name until the 
 loth of Thermidor *? " she said solemnly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Swear it." 
 
 " I swear it." 
 
 " On your honor." 
 
 "There, on my honor, then! Give me the 
 money." 
 
 She gave it to him, and suddenly casting her- 
 self on her knees, she cried hysterically : 
 
 " Thanks, thanks ! You have a heart, I know. 
 You will keep your word. You can pity. You 
 can be merciful. Thanks ! Thanks ! " 
 
 Catching the ugly, cruel hands in hers, she 
 covered them with her kisses and her tears. 
 Then, escaping, she fled down the corridor, re- 
 turning to bed, but not to sleep. 
 
 In the morning Barabant awoke, to find her eyes 
 open and the sunlight in the room. 
 
 " How well I slept ! " he said, springing up. 
 Going to the window, he spread his hands into 
 the beam of the sun that entered. " That feels 
 good. Tiens, you have a strange look ! What 
 is it ? You are not afraid ? " 
 
 377
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 '* No," she answered, smiling. 
 
 "Well, what then?" 
 
 " I have something " 
 
 " Why, you 're all wrought up," he said, in 
 surprise, as she stopped. 
 
 " Barabant, I ask you only because there is no 
 hope of life. Barabant, I " 
 
 " Why, mignonne, what is it ? What has 
 happened *? " 
 
 She threw herself in his arms, sobbing : 
 
 " Barabant, I want to be a wife ! " 
 
 The moments that he held her in stupefaction 
 were moments of agony to her. He put her 
 from him, looking in amazement at the tear- 
 stained face. 
 
 " Idiot that I am ! " he cried suddenly. " That 
 is what has been tormenting you ! " 
 
 Waiting only for the accent of his voice, she 
 sprang back, trembling, not daring to look at 
 him. 
 
 " Then you will ? " she cried, stretching out 
 her hands to him. " Then you will *? " 
 
 " Of course ! " 
 
 Into his arms she threw herself, sobbing with 
 the poignant ecstasy of joy, while he listened, 
 still uncomprehending. 
 
 " That means so much to you *? " he said. "But 
 I always considered you as my wife." 
 
 378
 
 THE LAST ON THE LIST 
 
 Even in her emotion his simplicity drew from 
 her a smile. 
 
 " Since when have you had this idea ? " 
 
 " From the beginning." 
 
 " True ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "From" 
 
 "From the afternoon of the loth of August; 
 but I did not realize it then." 
 
 The correction summed up all her history. 
 
 All at once Barabant, rousing himself from his 
 amazement, said : 
 
 " But how are we to be married ? " 
 
 " Do you remember the abbe next to us ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I will ask him." 
 
 " Do you think he will do it ? " he said doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 " I know how to convince him." 
 
 He kissed her and drew her away from him. 
 
 " Shall I go "? " she said. " Now ? " 
 
 "Fly!" 
 
 She was away a long time. When she reappeared 
 with the priest she said timidly: 
 
 " I have taken very long. I wanted to con- 
 fess. It did me good. Does that annoy you ? " 
 
 "No," he said smilingly; and looking at the 
 
 379
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 face of her companion, he said to himself: " She 
 has made him cry." 
 
 They joined hands, kneeling before the black- 
 robed figure in the warm room, pervaded with 
 the sunlight that the bars on the window could 
 not arrest. He made them man and wife, and 
 blessed them, and, bending, put out his hands to 
 raise the woman. But almost immediately, with 
 a smile that was of the compassionate master, he 
 ceased his attempts and stole from the room. 
 
 " Tell me one thing," Barabant asked. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Why did you not ask before ? " 
 
 " I could not ask. Now it makes no differ- 
 ence." 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 Again and again, through their solitary after- 
 noon, as they waited, now silent, now questioning 
 each other, he returned to his query without suc- 
 cess. At five o'clock, perceiving in her body an 
 involuntary shudder, he said: 
 
 " You 're not afraid of to-morrow ? " 
 
 " No. So many others have gone." She had 
 a superstitious idea of God and another world, 
 confused, simple, and sufficient Thinking of 
 Javogues, she added : " The abbe said I should 
 be saved. Do you believe it ? " 
 380
 
 THE LAST ON THE LIST 
 
 " Yes," he answered, respecting her faith. '* I 
 shall not fear, either." 
 
 " I know," she answered dreamily. 
 
 "She does not think of me," he thought. 
 Then wishing to talk of himself, he said : 
 
 " It is life that I regret. I ought to have done 
 so much." 
 
 " I wanted to give you that," she said at last, 
 feeling in the air the approach of the last hour. 
 " I wanted to die for you. That was my dream. 
 You would have revered my memory and I 
 should have been happy." 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " he said, frowning. 
 " And what do you mean *? " 
 
 '* I am only an ignorant girl," she said. ** I 
 could not long have been your companion." 
 
 "You are wrong," he cried vehemently, re- 
 peating it several times, "and you do me an 
 injustice." 
 
 She yielded, and asked the question that had 
 been on her lips a dozen times : 
 
 "Truly, Eugene, you would have married 
 me?" 
 
 " Can you doubt it, Nicole ? " 
 
 "You are good, very good." She smiled, 
 satisfied to bear this promise away with her, but 
 in her heart she was not quite convinced. " You 
 have been very kind." 
 
 381
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 He was glad at such a moment to own a good 
 action. 
 
 "Do you know, it 's good to have you," he 
 said slowly, a moment awed by the thought of 
 the morrow. " I do not fear, but I am glad you 
 are to be with me." 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 All at once she sprang up, trembling from head 
 to foot, crying : 
 
 " Do you hear ? " 
 
 "The belli" 
 
 " It is six." 
 
 " What ! you are trembling ? " 
 
 "Kiss me." 
 
 She threw herself into his arms, clutching him 
 to her, while he, in bewilderment, said : 
 
 " But I don't understand." 
 
 " Hold me, Eugene, hold me ! " she cried. 
 " Don't let me go ! " 
 
 She kissed him, holding his head in her hands, 
 and the kiss awakened in him the memory of 
 that first meeting of their lips, in the dark stair- 
 way, under the weak torch. He placed his arm 
 about her waist, drawing her gently down the 
 corridor, and believing that her courage at the 
 last had failed her, he whispered as they went : 
 
 " Do not fear, little one. I am with you. I '11 
 have courage for us both." 
 
 382
 
 THE LAST ON THE LIST 
 
 The prisoners assembled in the great hall, list- 
 less and dragging their steps, searching among 
 themselves with anxious or mechanical curiosity, 
 seeking to divine the chosen. Soon from the 
 courtyard rumbled the wheels of the arriving cart. 
 
 Presently, faint at first, down the distant cor- 
 ridor fell the step of the turnkey, approaching 
 slowly, as though to prolong the cruel suspense. 
 With a crash the gates were flung open, and, 
 flanked by two mastiffs, holding in his hand the 
 fatal roll, the jailer suddenly confronted every 
 eye. Without pause, the monotonous, singing 
 voice opened the long, dreary preamble, finished 
 it, and, rising to a shout, began the list : 
 
 " The Citoyenne Nicole Barabant ! " 
 
 A sigh of relief escaped the girl, and her head 
 fell on the shoulder of Barabant ; but her ears, 
 deaf to the cries of sorrow, to the lamentations of 
 mothers and wives, to the screams of astonish- 
 ment and despair that woke the silent hall, fol- 
 lowed anxiously the roll, counting : 
 
 " Seven eight nine ! " 
 
 At the tenth she relaxed, and her arms wound 
 about the neck of Barabant in the last long em- 
 brace, violent with the pang of parting. Sud- 
 denly, with a cry of despair, she tore herself from 
 him, an eleventh name was being read : 
 
 " The Citoyen Eugene " 
 
 383
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 Something extraordinary had happened; the 
 jailer had stopped in indecision. Nicole, in the 
 agony of her mind, saw but one face the mock- 
 ing face of Cramoisin against an opposite pillar. 
 
 " The Citoyen Eugene Franz Cramoisin ! " 
 
 The sneer dropped out; the face grew livid. 
 On all sides astounded cries went up : 
 
 " Cramoisin ? " 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " Cramoisin arrested ! " 
 
 Nicole, understanding nothing but that Bara- 
 bant was saved, hearing only Barabant's voice 
 demanding like a madman to be taken, fell into 
 his arms, crying : 
 
 " No, no, it is not a mistake ! It is I who have 
 saved you. Barabant ! Barabant ! It is as I 
 wanted it! Remember me, Barabant! Don't 
 forget me ! The abbe will tell you all. Bara- 
 bant Barabant ! " 
 
 They tore her from his arms and swept her 
 away, still stretching out the unavailing fingers, 
 still calling : 
 
 " Barabant ! Barabant ! " 
 
 The weeping and the wailing died behind the 
 clashing gates. A woman, catching her in her 
 arms, supported her down the unending corridor, 
 whispering : 
 
 " Lean on me. I have no one." 
 
 384
 
 THE LAST ON THE LIST 
 
 They entered the courtyard and climbed into 
 the chariot, where a few prisoners sadly and indif- 
 ferently watched their arrival. There presently 
 two turnkeys, laughing boisterously, bore out and 
 dumped beside them the body of Cramoisin, who 
 had fainted. 
 
 38*
 
 XV 
 
 THE FALL OF THE TERROR 
 
 ON the Qth of Thermidor Dossonville, who 
 had long foreseen the inevitable conflict 
 of Robespierre and the Convention, resolved 
 on another rapid shift, and, appearing in the Rue 
 Maugout, denounced Robespierre and the Jaco- 
 bins in such unmeasured terms that he not only 
 sent his listeners galloping off to denounce him, 
 but to his amazement on turning about, found 
 himself deserted even by Sans-Chagrin and Le 
 Corbeau. 
 
 According to his custom, he visited the Con- 
 ciergerie to inspect the prisoners. Already in 
 the streets was the awakening of the great con- 
 flict. In the crowds the Jacobins alone raised 
 their voices in furious boasting ; but silence pre- 
 dominated, and the silence told of anger and 
 condemnation. 
 
 In the first division he found no familiar face 
 among the twenty-odd prisoners until, on the 
 point of turning away, he discovered the abject 
 386
 
 THE FALL OF THE TERROR 
 
 form of Cramoisin. The downfall of the Ter- 
 rorists appeared to him as a favorable presage. 
 
 He passed to the second division; there the 
 crowd was thicker and more turbulent. Over the 
 uneven field of bobbing heads he saw the judges 
 on the bench, the listless jury, joking among 
 themselves, and the abhorrent figure of Fouquier; 
 while to the right, packed together on the benches, 
 were the score of prisoners who waited, without 
 hope, the mockery of a trial. 
 
 Dossonville, taking his place in the stream of 
 those who constantly pressed to the front seek- 
 ing the face of relative or friend, yielded good- 
 humoredly the right of way to those who sought 
 in sorrow. After some delay he reached the 
 front rank. There a cry was torn from him : 
 
 " Oh, mon Dieu ! " 
 
 At the first glance he had seen Nicole. Drawn 
 by some subtle intelligence, she raised her eyes 
 and saw him. 
 
 " What a fatality ! " he cried to himself. " She 
 herself has done this ! " 
 
 A sudden anger filled him, of revolt and re- 
 sentment against the stubborn sacrifice of this 
 frail girl who had defeated him at the very 
 last. His glance of reproach she met with one 
 of content, which said : " You see, it is as I 
 said." 
 
 387
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 She smiled seriously, a little sadly, as one who, 
 though not regretting the decision, had not fore- 
 seen the cost. 
 
 A hand swept him back as others pressed fer- 
 vently forward. He heard a mother's voice cry 
 at his side : 
 
 " They have taken my child, my son." 
 
 His glance following dumbly the outstretched 
 hands, he beheld at the side of Nicole the figure 
 of a boy, who searched the crowd with fright- 
 ened face. The buzz of voices rose about, the 
 mother's mingling with the crowd. 
 
 " But it 's a mistake. He 's sixteen." 
 
 " Then don't worry, they can't touch him ! " 
 
 " Aye, he 's safe ! " 
 
 " They arrested him for his brother, who 's 
 twenty-six." 
 
 " Calm yourself, la petite mere, any one can 
 see he 's a boy." 
 
 " They '11 release him ? " 
 
 " Of course he 's under age." 
 
 " Aye, any one can see that." 
 
 Dossonville but half heard them. He was 
 crushed by the cruel turn of fate that had claimed 
 her at the last, when the morrow would mean 
 life and security. His eyes, yet refusing to be- 
 lieve, had never left Nicole's face. She was pale ; 
 but the pallor was of serenity, and gave to her
 
 THE FALL OF THE TERROR 
 
 person a certain distinction that seemed to raise 
 her above her class. From time to time a certain 
 pensiveness, whether of melancholy or of regret, 
 gathered in her eyes. She was looking with 
 womanly revolt below her, where, on a litter, ex- 
 posed to all eyes, lay the unconscious form of 
 a woman. The audience, rebelling against such 
 cruelty, began to murmur : 
 
 " Remove her ! " 
 
 " Take her out ! " 
 
 " Send her to the hospital ! " 
 
 The cry was taken up, passing from a murmur 
 in the front ranks to volume and distinctness as 
 it rolled back. The protest became so insistent 
 that several of the jury began to cast anxious 
 glances at the audience, and a judge motioned to 
 Fouquier. There was an expectant lull; but 
 Fouquier cried, with a sneer : 
 
 " She '11 revive. Call the roll ! " 
 
 The storm that had subsided in anticipation 
 burst forth anew. 
 
 "No! No!" 
 
 "Remove her!" 
 
 "Justice!" 
 
 " Outrage ! " 
 
 Near Dossonville a blacksmith, with leather 
 apron, was shouting : 
 
 " To the hospital ! " 
 
 389
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 A red-haired man in a baker's cap, with 
 clenched fists, added : 
 
 "Tyrant!" 
 
 Fresh arrivals, bringing tidings of uprisings 
 throughout the city, gave new courage to the 
 protests. Fouquier, impressed at last by the out- 
 bursts, rose sullenly and commanded : 
 
 " Bear the woman to the witness-room, but the 
 instant she revives bring her back." 
 
 The roll-call was begun the simple attesta- 
 tion of individuality that had replaced the pleas 
 of advocates and the taking of testimony. En- 
 couraged by its first success, the audience began 
 to murmur: 
 
 " They say the Quartier St. Antoine is in revolt 
 against Robespierre." 
 
 "The Convention will surely declare him under 
 arrest." 
 
 "If he falls, the executions will stop." 
 
 " I say the trial ought to stop until we see." 
 
 "Yes, postpone the trial." 
 
 "What! There are traitors, then, in the 
 room ! " cried Fouquier, who, the better to see, 
 had mounted a step. Before his threatening 
 glance the movement of clemency died away. 
 Again was heard the monotonous voice of the 
 clerk intoning the roll and the listless responses of 
 the accused. In the stand one of the jury im- 
 
 390
 
 THE FALL OF THE TERROR 
 
 patiently pulled out a watch, another stifled a 
 yawn. 
 
 All at once there was a craning of heads. An 
 interruption had come ; the voice of the young 
 boy was protesting : 
 
 " Citoyen, the accusation is for my brother. I 
 am not twenty-six. I have done nothing against 
 the Republic. Citoyen, I am sixteen. I have my 
 papers to prove it." 
 
 A greffier nodded his head in confirmation, 
 and extended a handful of papers toward the 
 judge, saying : 
 
 " Citoyen, he speaks the truth." 
 
 Murmurs ran through the crowd : 
 
 " It 's a mistake ! " 
 
 "He 's a child!" 
 
 " Release him ! " 
 
 On the judges' bench the figure of Dumas 
 arose. 
 
 " And if you are only sixteen," he cried bru- 
 tally, "in the matter of crime you are fully 
 eighty." Then, with a furious gesture, he added: 
 " Pass on, and make haste ! " 
 
 The murmur of revolt from the audience 
 was overwhelmed in a sudden roar of astonish- 
 ment. Dumas had been arrested ! The coun- 
 ter-revolution had come! Those who had not 
 seen the arrest cried : 
 
 39 1
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 " But what has happened ? " 
 
 "Tell us! Tell us!" 
 
 Others answered: 
 
 " Dumas ! " 
 
 " Arrested ! " 
 
 " The counter-revolution has come ! " 
 
 A voice cried : 
 
 " The quartiers are in arms ! " 
 
 " True 2 " 
 
 "The tocsin is ringing!" 
 
 " They '11 make an end of Robespierre ? " 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " It 's true ! Have n't they arrested Dumas ? " 
 
 " Suspend the trial ! " 
 
 " Mercy ! Clemency ! " 
 
 All eyes turned to Fouquier, who answered 
 contemptuously and stubbornly : 
 
 " Justice must take its course ! " 
 
 At Dossonville's side the blacksmith, with the 
 sudden frenzy of prophecy, cried : 
 
 " Fouquier, beware ! The guillotine is wait- 
 ing for you ! " 
 
 While with brawny shoulders he wriggled free 
 of the willing crowd, Dossonville looked for the 
 hundredth time at Nicole. She had not aban- 
 doned her calm ; only a slight frown told of the 
 havoc the sudden opening and closing of the gates 
 of hope played in her soul. 
 392
 
 THE FALL OF THE TERROR 
 
 Another judge replaced Dumas. The roll-call 
 was hurried on. Twice Fouquier sent a physician 
 to report the condition of the woman in the wit- 
 ness-room. A flutter of the eyelids would have 
 meant death. She remained in a stupor, and was 
 at last sent to the hospital. The roll-call ended. 
 The jury, after the farce of declaring that they 
 had heard sufficient evidence, retired to deliberate 
 upon the guilt of the twenty-six. They returned 
 shortly. It was late, and many suffered from the 
 postponement of the luncheon-hour. One man 
 acquitted Aviot Turot, laborer. 
 
 A shudder passed through the body of Dosson- 
 ville, and a groan escaped his lips. The fatal, 
 inevitable word "Guilty" overwhelmed him. 
 Nicole heard it with a smile sad, yet satisfied. 
 
 Another stir, and a buzz of comments rose as 
 the executioner entered and began to converse 
 with Fouquier. Those in front, who could hear, 
 called back : 
 
 " Sanson is remonstrating." 
 
 " Sanson wants the execution deferred." 
 
 " He says the city is rising." 
 
 A last time Fouquier refused to budge, and, 
 crossing his arms, reiterated bluntly, to be heard 
 by all : 
 
 " No, no ! I say no ! Justice must take its 
 course." 
 
 393
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 The condemned, who had paused as they had 
 risen trembling with hope, filed out, while the 
 crowd in the court-room surged forth to meet the 
 tumbrels. 
 
 Dossonville, using his privilege of agent de 
 surete, entered the prison, seeking Nicole in the 
 crowd of prisoners massed in the outer hall; 
 threading through anxious groups, who whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " You saw Dumas arrested ? " 
 
 "They say there is a revolt against Robes- 
 pierre." 
 
 " The people seemed to sympathize with us." 
 
 Others, scorning to hang their hopes on des- 
 perate chances, waited stoically or reverently the 
 summons to the tumbrels. A young aristocrat 
 was whistling defiantly : 
 
 " Oh, Richard, oh, mon roi, 
 L'univers t'abandonne !" 
 
 In another group, guarding their enmity to the 
 end, two brothers of the people retorted with the 
 " Marseillaise." 
 
 Two women near Dossonville were chatting 
 gaily : 
 
 " I am so pale those cursed revolutionists will 
 think that I am afraid." 
 
 " You must not give them that satisfaction." 
 
 394
 
 THE FALL OF THE TERROR 
 
 " I do seem pale, then ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Ah, then I must rouge ! " 
 
 Dossonville examined the figure of the grace- 
 ful woman, who was gaily daubing her cheeks, 
 
 and recognized the famous Duchess of M . 
 
 At this moment, in the obscurity of the arches, 
 he discovered at last the blue dress and golden 
 hair of Nicole. 
 
 " Oh, it is you," she cried joyfully. " I had 
 hoped you could see me." 
 
 "Nicole," he said bitterly, "this is your 
 doing." 
 
 Her manner changed ; she grew serious. 
 
 " My friend," she said, " I have but done what 
 I wished. I am happy." She held up her finger 
 with Barabant's ring on it. " You see, I am his 
 wife, and I have saved him." 
 
 The outward movement toward the tumbrels 
 had begun. From the doorway the guards re- 
 peated : 
 
 " Hurry up, there ; hurry up, you cursed aris- 
 tocrats ! " 
 
 Dossonville kissed her with more feeling than 
 he had believed possible, and said, through the 
 tears that clouded his eyes, " I would have saved 
 you." 
 
 " Do not grieve," she said, touched by his sor- 
 
 395
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 row. She took her scarf and put it into his 
 hand, saying : " Give it to him. Tell him that I 
 am happy that it is best so. Adieu ! " 
 
 Then, as though fearing to lose her self-control, 
 she pressed his hand and hurried away. 
 
 Dossonville, passing out by a side entrance, 
 hastened to meet the slow procession across the 
 river. The city was in uproar; over the roofs 
 the bells were crying the civil strife, while every 
 street seemed to give forth the thunder of drums. 
 Masses of volunteers, without formation or leader, 
 swept the boulevards, while the air was charged 
 with the conflict of shouts : 
 
 " Vive la Commune ! " 
 
 " A bas les Jacobins ! " 
 
 " Vive Robespierre ! " 
 
 " Robespierre a la Guillotine ! " 
 
 The chariots crossed from the gates of the 
 Conciergerie, acclaimed by the hoots and jeers 
 of the daily hordes of mad women who gathered 
 to shriek their foul abuse and frantic revilings. 
 But as the tumbrels passed the river the insults 
 ceased, replaced by murmurs of sympathy. 
 
 In the third chariot Dossonville found Nicole. 
 The duchess, with her brilliant cheeks, was on 
 the same bench, and between the two women 
 the boy, his hand in Nicole's. 
 
 From the direction of the Convention came 
 
 39 6
 
 THE FALL OF THE TERROR 
 
 wild rumors of Robespierre's defeat. The crowd, 
 increasing, began to cry : 
 
 " Enough blood ! " 
 
 " No more blood ! " 
 
 " Pity on the condemned ! " 
 
 Dossonville, hardly daring to hope, noticed that 
 Sanson examined the crowd anxiously a not un- 
 friendly glance. The demonstration continued, 
 growing bolder, a hundred voices insisting : 
 
 " Enough blood ! " 
 
 " No more victims ! " 
 
 " Stop the massacre ! " 
 
 Among the prisoners several, unable to resist 
 the sudden leap of hope to their eyes, stretched 
 out their hands, crying : 
 
 " We are innocent ! " 
 
 In the first chariot Cramoisin, in a frenzy, was 
 shouting : 
 
 " Citoyens, do not mistake me. I am a re- 
 publican. Vive la Republique ! Save me, at 
 least!" 
 
 Nicole was speaking to the boy ; for the new 
 vision of life had made him tremble. Amid 
 the leaping floods of humanity she remained 
 calm, a certain maternal sweetness and repose 
 enveloping her as she sought to fortify the reso- 
 lution of her companion. To Dossonville, 
 through the rising storm of sound and swaying 
 
 397
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 of bodies, a lull of peace seemed to surround her 
 and to remove her from the frenzy. 
 
 Again the revolt rose in him that she should 
 die thus. Perceiving all at once that the crowd 
 had pressed about the carts until their progress 
 was impeded, he flung himself into the swirl, 
 exhorting and encouraging. The cries redoubled, 
 becoming more threatening : 
 
 " Save them ! " 
 
 " Enough butchery ! " 
 
 " On, comrades ! Save them ! " 
 
 " Aye, deliver them ! " 
 
 " Stop the chariots ! " 
 
 "Unhitch the horses! Unhitch the horses!" 
 
 At this last, the cry of Dossonville, the multi- 
 tude, with a shriek of triumph, surged up against 
 the tumbrels. A hundred hands checked the 
 horses, reaching out for the buckles of the harness, 
 while a dozen voices cried : 
 
 " Courage ! We '11 release you ! " 
 
 Already the prisoners exclaimed joyfully, al- 
 ready Dossonville stretched out his arms to 
 Nicole, when a cry of fear and despair burst from 
 the rescuers, voiced in the dreaded name : 
 
 " Henriot ! Henriot ! " 
 
 Up the street, at the head of his dragoons, 
 sabres flashing in the air, break-a-neck came the 
 wild figure of the Jacobin. 
 
 398
 
 THE FALL OF THE TERROR 
 
 The surge of the fleeing crowd held Dosson- 
 ville a moment against the tumbrel, where he 
 heard through the confusion a cry of despair from 
 the boy, " I could have borne anything but hope! " 
 Then, as Dossonville was swept away, he saw the 
 child's head fall upon the shoulder of Nicole. 
 The next moment he was buffeted and hurled 
 aside; then a horse struck him and flung him to 
 the ground, where a dozen feet trampled him. 
 Stunned, covered with dirt, and bleeding, he 
 stumbled to his feet. The tumbrels, surrounded 
 by cavalry, were disappearing in the distance, 
 moving swiftly. He ran after them, shaking his 
 helpless fist, and as he turned the corner, a groan 
 burst from him. Over the heads of the people 
 the twin shafts of the guillotine sprang into view. 
 
 Numb and half unconscious, seeing only, in the 
 third cart, the distant blot of blue, he limped on, 
 following as best he could into the square. He 
 fought his way to the front, beside the cordon of 
 naked swords that girdled the scaffold, repeating 
 to himself a hundred times : 
 
 " I must not stay ! I will not stay ! " 
 
 But still the pitiful hope of a deliverance held 
 him there, to snatch at every message of the air 
 that floated over the distracted city. One after 
 another the condemned mounted the steps and 
 passed across the stage like phantoms, hurried on 
 
 399
 
 IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 
 
 by the remorseless Jacobin, while those about 
 him cried : 
 
 " Oh, for two hours for one ! " 
 "Cursed Henriot, we could have saved them !" 
 " Why does the Convention delay *? " 
 " Ah, the monster ! He is afraid to lose a 
 single one ! " 
 
 She came at last, a patch of blue, a white face 
 against the stretch of heads. She saw him not at 
 all, nor any one. The maternal instinct of the 
 woman that had raised her above her companions 
 on the journey was gone, and with it all con- 
 sciousness of the world and the sorrows and the 
 responsibilities which had so transformed her. 
 Only once did she notice her surroundings, when 
 the bourreau, with impatient hand, bared her 
 throat. Then for a moment her hands went 
 instinctively to cover herself from the multitude. 
 Almost immediately her face became grave and 
 reverent. The assistants advanced to take her to 
 the guillotine. Then with a rapid motion she 
 made the sign of the cross, raising her eyes to the 
 deep sky, as though already she saw beyond the 
 grave, the timid question of a child who hesi- 
 tates in wonder before the incomprehensible. 
 
 With a sob, Dossonville turned, shrinking from 
 the sight of the mutilating knife, and waited with 
 averted face. 
 
 400
 
 THE FALL OF THE TERROR 
 
 There was a vast moment, then a shock of 
 steel, and a woman who had seen his tears whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " It is over ! " 
 
 Then, fleeing from the inexorable machine, he 
 plunged, weeping, through the crowd, stumbling 
 aimlessly on into the frantic city, where, too late, 
 every street was echoing to the fear-releasing 
 shrieks of rejoicing : 
 
 " Robespierre is fallen ! " 
 
 " The Terror is ended ! " 
 
 401
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 A*J hour later Dossonville was arrested, thanks 
 to his political somersault, which had 
 brought him twenty denunciations before the 
 Committee of Safety as having always spoken ill 
 of the Jacobins and defamed the character of 
 Robespierre. The accusation of a day served to 
 cleanse the record of months. 
 
 Imprisoned for a few months at the Maison 
 Talaru, he gained the frontier at a favorable 
 moment and embarked for South America. 
 Then for ten years, at sea or in the colonies, he 
 was buffeted from continent to continent, always 
 embroiled, always running on the lead of adven- 
 ture, which he called his one bad habit. 
 
 When he again saw Paris, the Empire was at 
 its crest. The city he had left a wilderness had 
 flowered with the riotous luxuriance of the tropics. 
 The Tuileries Gardens were again noisy with the 
 laughter of promenaders, thronging to a review 
 in the Place du Carrousel. Wherever he went 
 402
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 his eye caught the flash of martial splendor and 
 the sheen of sabers. 
 
 A little sadly he spent the days in the strange 
 Babylon, seeking some trace of the great Revo- 
 lution that once had rolled through the city, of the 
 thundering mobs, the fervid cafes, the tricoteuses, 
 and the creak of the rolling tumbrels. 
 
 The Cabaret of the Pretre Pendu,its gibbet ban- 
 ished, had become the Cabaret of a Hundred and 
 One Victories. The greeting of "citoyen" no 
 longer resounded in the street. Of all the famil- 
 iar faces in the Rue Maugout, not one confronted 
 him. La Mere Corniche had been replaced by 
 another concierge, bent and wrinkled after the 
 manner of concierges, as though her life had been 
 passed at her post. 
 
 Among the counts and barons, marshals and 
 princes, of the Empire, galloping in glory, shouting 
 frantically" Vive PEmpereur!"Dossonville recog- 
 nized with bewilderment figures of Jacobins and 
 Girondins, once worshipers of the sacred Republic. 
 He sought out the Maison Talaru ; lackeys were 
 lounging before the door and a stream of car- 
 riages rolling through the restored porte-cochere. 
 Once, hearing the rumor of a great execution for 
 the afternoon, with a revival of interest he asked 
 a passer-by : 
 
 " And the executioner, what do you call him?" 
 
 403
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 "Sanson." 
 
 " Charles Sanson ? " 
 
 " His son." 
 
 Recalling the prophecy of the father, indiffer- 
 ent servitor to republic or kingdom, he returned 
 pensively to the boulevards, where, to rid himself 
 of black memories, he selected among the pomp 
 and the glitter a fashionable cafe, and installed 
 himself. 
 
 Presently, reviewing idly the gorgeous clien- 
 tele, his eye rested on a knot of generals. The 
 figure of the speaker caught his memory by a 
 certain trick of exuberant gesture that recalled 
 a comrade of other days. Calling a waiter, he 
 demanded : 
 
 " That man over there, decorated with medals 
 and laughing, in that cluster of fighters, do you 
 see him *? " 
 
 " The Baron de Ricordo yes, sir." 
 
 " What 's his name <? " 
 
 " The Baron de Ricordo ; a great man in the 
 Senate, sir." 
 
 "Ah, I thought he resembled some one else. 
 Thanks." 
 
 Almost immediately, dissatisfied, he recalled 
 him. 
 
 " And his family name ? Find that out." 
 "Monsieur, he is a Barabant, of the well- 
 404
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 known Barabants of the Midi. The family is 
 honorable and old. I " 
 
 " Never mind. Ah, one thing more. Is he 
 married *? Tell me that." 
 
 " Monsieur, he marries this month, a great 
 marriage." 
 
 " Enough. That 's sufficient." 
 
 At this moment the party pushed back their 
 chairs and came straggling toward him. 
 
 " When you 're young all folly 's possible," 
 said the voice of Barabant at his elbow. 
 
 " It 's a wonder, I say, that we survive to mid- 
 dle age." 
 
 " Dame, yes ! " replied the baron. " Will you 
 believe it of me at twenty-five I wept because 
 I could not die for an idea ! " 
 
 Dossonville, who was on the point of rising, 
 fell back and lowered his head. The resplendent 
 group swaggered down to the sidewalk, where 
 presently a magnificent equipage rolled up, a 
 lady extended her hand to the Baron de Ricordo, 
 who, nodding to his comrades, sprang into the 
 carriage and drove off. 
 
 Pushing back the untasted glass, Dossonville 
 rang for his bill. 
 
 " Monsieur does n't take his drink," the ga^on 
 objected. 
 
 Dossonville, looking down, saw that it was true. 
 405
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 " There is something the matter, monsieur ? " 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " Monsieur complains " 
 
 " Ah, I have looked at the bottom of the glass, 
 my friend," he answered ; but his glance was in 
 the street. " When one drinks one should never 
 do that." 
 
 Leaving the perplexed gar9on to turn over his 
 words, he sauntered among the thronged tables, 
 and joining the slow procession of the prome- 
 naders, was swept gradually away. 
 
 406
 
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