CHAPTER VII
OUR FIRST COMMUNARD
Hannah and Liz Deventer came in arm and arm. Hannah grave and sweet,with her air of taking admiration for granted and being rather bored byit; Liz dimpled and glancing from one to the other, deciding which ofthe young men would best serve her for cavalier that day. As for RhodaPolly she had been in and out of the room for an hour, enforcingauthority in the kitchen, rousing new courage in frightened servantswhom only her example and abounding vitality shamed into remaining attheir duty.
Dennis Deventer did not appear. Jack Jaikes came down presently andcarried him up a pot of strong coffee and some rolls. Most of us hardlymade even a pretence of sitting down, so eager were we to get back toour posts, but Hugh Deventer and a young apprentice, Laurent, the son ofan English mother and a French father, stayed to keep the two youngergirls company. As for me, I followed Rhoda Polly out upon the roof.
There I cleaned her rifle for her carefully, while she sat and watchedme, her chin upon her palms. We were both quite comfortably hiddenbehind the stack of north-looking chimneys.
Rhoda Polly had always been a friend of mine, and there was no falseshame between us, any more than between two college comrades of the sameage and standing.
In quickly lapsing phrases she told me how the trouble had begun.
"It was," she said, "altogether a political matter at first. It had todo with the position of Procureur of the Republic, held by young GastonCremieux of Marseilles. He had been appointed by Gambetta in September,in the war year. But he was a 'red' and belonged to the Internationale,so that the solid people of the department, royalists for the most part,set about to try and dislodge him. He used to come often to our house,and he and father sat long arguing. I think we all liked him. He hadgreat influence with the men up at the works, and so long as he waspermitted to speak to them and go to their reunions, we had no trouble.
"But when Gambetta lost his power, and Thiers became dictator, orpresident, or something, Gaston Cremieux could not long remainProcureur. They stripped him of his office, and gave it to a dry-as-dustlawyer who did as the military tribunals bade him."
I put a question here.
"No," continued Rhoda Polly, with a flash of indignation, "if you knewmy father better, you would know that he does not shelter himself behindanyone. Still, Cremieux was undoubtedly a help. My father can explainbetter than I can, but the men down here wanted to make our department asovereign state like the American ones--New York, Massachusetts, Ohio,and so on."
"But," said I, "over there they have just fought a long and bloody warfor the purpose of proving that no state is sovereign, but each must besubordinate to the central authority at Washington."
"Well, I don't know," said Rhoda Polly, "at least, that was the idea ofthese people down here, and I suppose all over France wherever there aremany workmen. The peasants and agriculturists are different. They wantonly two things: low taxes and high prices."
Rhoda Polly was swinging herself back and forward on the low parapetwhich ran round the roof in so careless a fashion, that I begged her totake care that she did not lose her balance. At my words she stopped,cast a glance behind her, was instantly brought to her feet by what shesaw, and ran towards the steel ladder crying, "It is Gaston Cremieux. Imust let him in."
I went to the parapet holding the cleaned gun idly in my hand. A tallyoung man, with dark hair and a slight pointed beard, was comingstraight across from the head-quarters of the insurgents. He walkedeasily and with a confident swing up the wide Stair of Honour which ledto the front door.
Before he had reached the top the bolts were already shooting fromwithin, and the door soon stood open; for Rhoda Polly had gathered inJack Jaikes on her way, to help in undoing the intricate barrage andstrengthening of the defence.
I am not sure that Jack Jaikes looked with much favour upon the welcomewhich Rhoda Polly gave to the young ex-Procureur of the Republic, butthe lady knew well what she was about. In losing his office he hadneither lost in influence nor authority, and she knew that if anyonecould help to end the strife, it was this polite and deferential youngman.
"I have been over at Nimes seeing the family of my friend Rossel," heexplained. "I heard there was some trouble at the works, so I tookAramon-les-Ateliers on my way back to Marseilles."
"That was good of you," said Rhoda Polly, "if anyone can set thingsright, you can. You know what my father thinks, and what he has done forthe men, but he will not have the firm's machinery tampered with if hecan help it."
Gaston Cremieux nodded his head of crisp black curls.
"_I_ understand," he said; "but there are men over yonder who cannotunderstand the uprightness of a man like your father. Worse still, theycannot believe that he wishes them well, just because he is a manager inthe pay of the Company. He must on that very account be their enemy,they say, and they remain blind to the fact that he alone can put theirneeds and demands before the masters."
"Come up and see my father," said the girl, and without waiting for anyword of consent, she turned and led the way, flitting before him withthe lithe grace learned in the gymnasia of Selborne College.
Some minutes afterwards I encountered Jack Jaikes who had returned fromre-bolting and restrengthening the door.
"If I could break that young scoundrel's neck I would be doing somegood. He is at the bottom of all this trouble. I went to one of hisspeechifyings to see what he was after, and he led them like a flock oflambs. He was preaching revolt and red revolution, so far as I couldmake out--the works to belong to the workers and such-like clottednonsense--and now Rhoda Polly receives him like an angel from heaven,and up they go to throw dust in the eyes of the old man. If I had my wayof it--_augh_!"
And here Jack Jaikes turned away snorting to express the suddenness andcertainty with which he would regulate the case of ex-Procureur GastonCremieux, if the matter were left in his hands.
On the roof another view was being taken. I heard the details from HughDeventer, who at this time was constantly with his father, now that hehad been forgiven and, as it were, taken back into the general scheme ofthings as conceived by Dennis Deventer.
"Rhoda Polly brought him up" (so ran his narrative), "and it was likewatching a hen with a new brood of chickens to see the pair of them.Rhoda Polly is like that. She was quite sure that she had found thespecific remedy for all our woes, so she could hardly let the man speakat first, so anxious was she that he should say the right thing.
"She kept at it interrupting so long, that at last the Pater, who wasnot specially patient just then, told her to go away and let them talkit out in peace. And that is pretty strong from the Pater to RhodaPolly, for mostly he encourages her to say and do just what she likes.She is not like the others. There is nothing of themother's-apron-string-girl about Rhoda Polly. She likes running aboutthe works in a dirty blouse much better than sitting all day, withembroidery on her knee, listening to mother purring.
"As for Cremieux and my father, they understood each other from thefirst. It was wonderful to find how much they had in common. And he willhelp to stop the rioting. He says he will not go away from Aramon tillthe men are back at work. Cremieux's opinion is that these sporadicrisings do no good, even when run on the best lines, without personalviolence or destruction of property. To succeed, the thing must be anational movement, concerted and directed from each one of the greattowns, otherwise the bourgeois government merely waits till its feet arefree elsewhere, and then tramples out one by one all the littlerevolts."
At that moment Deventer caught me by the arm.
"Hold hard," he whispered, "here he comes with the Chief. I declare theyare as thick as thieves, and yet in an hour he may be leading therascals over yonder to burn down the Chateau."
The restless eyes of Dennis Deventer spied me out.
"Ah, Angus me boy," he hailed, "come this way. You two ought to know oneanother. This is our philosopher's son from Gobelet, who has run awayfrom college to take service under Garibaldi."
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bsp; "If he casts his eyes in that direction," said the dark young man,smiling, "I can find him more profitable work nearer home."
"Come, none of your proselytising on my ground!" said Dennis Deventer,laying a heavy hand on his companion's shoulder. "If he chooses to goand get a bullet in him for the sake of France, that is his own affair.But I will not have him mixed up in your little revolutions about whichhe knows nothing at all."
"But I will teach him. He is intelligent--of a fine race--it is suchmen we need. Let me speak to him, I beg."
But Dennis Deventer would listen to nothing. He pushed his visitor outof the hall, laughing and shaking his head good-humouredly.
"Take anyone you like from my rank and file," he said, "but leave mystaff officers alone."
But I did not forget that tall, grave young man, who talked so earnestlyand pleaded so strongly for a chance to teach me the wisdom ofinsurrection.