CHAPTER XV. THE GATE OF LA VILLETTE
And now the shades of evening had long since yielded to those of night.The gate of La Villette, at the northeast corner of the city, was aboutto close. Armand, dressed in the rough clothes of a labouring man, wasleaning against a low wall at the angle of the narrow street which abutson the canal at its further end; from this point of vantage he couldcommand a view of the gate and of the life and bustle around it.
He was dog-tired. After the emotions of the past twenty-four hours, aday's hard manual toil to which he was unaccustomed had caused him toache in every limb. As soon as he had arrived at the canal wharf in theearly morning he had obtained the kind of casual work that ruled abouthere, and soon was told off to unload a cargo of coal which had arrivedby barge overnight. He had set-to with a will, half hoping to killhis anxiety by dint of heavy bodily exertion. During the course of themorning he had suddenly become aware of Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and of LordAnthony Dewhurst working not far away from him, and as fine a pair ofcoalheavers as any shipper could desire.
It was not very difficult in the midst of the noise and activity thatreigned all about the wharf for the three men to exchange a few wordstogether, and Armand soon communicated the chief's new instructionsto my Lord Tony, who effectually slipped away from his work some timeduring the day. Armand did not even see him go, it had all been soneatly done.
Just before five o'clock in the afternoon the labourers were paid off.It was then too dark to continue work. Armand would have liked to talkto Sir Andrew, if only for a moment. He felt lonely and desperatelyanxious. He had hoped to tire out his nerves as well as his body, butin this he had not succeeded. As soon as he had given up his tools, hisbrain began to work again more busily than ever. It followed Percy inhis peregrinations through the city, trying to discover where thosebrutes were keeping Jeanne.
That task had suddenly loomed up before Armand's mind with all itsterrible difficulties. How could Percy--a marked man if ever there wasone--go from prison to prison to inquire about Jeanne? The very ideaseemed preposterous. Armand ought never to have consented to such aninsensate plan. The more he thought of it, the more impossible did itseem that Blakeney could find anything out.
Sir Andrew Ffoulkes was nowhere to be seen. St. Just wandered about inthe dark, lonely streets of this outlying quarter vainly trying to findthe friend in whom he could confide, who, no doubt, would reassurehim as to Blakeney's probable movements in Paris. Then as the hourapproached for the closing of the city gates Armand took up his standat an angle of the street from whence he could see both the gate on oneside of him and the thin line of the canal intersecting the street atits further end.
Unless Percy came within the next five minutes the gates would beclosed and the difficulties of crossing the barrier would be increased ahundredfold. The market gardeners with their covered carts filed outof the gate one by one; the labourers on foot were returning to theirhomes; there was a group of stonemasons, a few road-makers, also anumber of beggars, ragged and filthy, who herded somewhere in theneighbourhood of the canal.
In every form, under every disguise, Armand hoped to discover Percy.He could not stand still for very long, but strode up and down the roadthat skirts the fortifications at this point.
There were a good many idlers about at this hour; some men who hadfinished their work, and meant to spend an hour or so in one of thedrinking shops that abounded in the neighbourhood of the wharf; otherswho liked to gather a small knot of listeners around them, whilst theydiscoursed on the politics of the day, or rather raged against theConvention, which was all made up of traitors to the people's welfare.
Armand, trying manfully to play his part, joined one of the groups thatstood gaping round a street orator. He shouted with the best of them,waved his cap in the air, and applauded or hissed in unison with themajority. But his eyes never wandered for long away from the gate whencePercy must come now at any moment--now or not at all.
At what precise moment the awful doubt took birth in his mind the youngman could not afterwards have said. Perhaps it was when he heard theroll of drums proclaiming the closing of the gates, and witnessed thechanging of the guard.
Percy had not come. He could not come now, and he (Armand) would havethe night to face without news of Jeanne. Something, of course, haddetained Percy; perhaps he had been unable to get definite informationabout Jeanne; perhaps the information which he had obtained was tooterrible to communicate.
If only Sir Andrew Ffoulkes had been there, and Armand had had some oneto talk to, perhaps then he would have found sufficient strength of mindto wait with outward patience, even though his nerves were on the rack.
Darkness closed in around him, and with the darkness came the fullreturn of the phantoms that had assailed him in the house of the Squaredu Roule when first he had heard of Jeanne's arrest. The open placefacing the gate had transformed itself into the Place de la Revolution,the tall rough post that held a flickering oil lamp had become the gauntarm of the guillotine, the feeble light of the lamp was the knife thatgleamed with the reflection of a crimson light.
And Armand saw himself, as in a vision, one of a vast and noisythrong--they were all pressing round him so that he could not move; theywere brandishing caps and tricolour flags, also pitchforks and scythes.He had seen such a crowd four years ago rushing towards the Bastille.Now they were all assembled here around him and around the guillotine.
Suddenly a distant rattle caught his subconscious ear: the rattle ofwheels on rough cobble-stones. Immediately the crowd began to cheer andto shout; some sang the "Ca ira!" and others screamed:
"Les aristos! a la lanterne! a mort! a mort! les aristos!"
He saw it all quite plainly, for the darkness had vanished, and thevision was more vivid than even reality could have been. The rattle ofwheels grew louder, and presently the cart debouched on the open place.
Men and women sat huddled up in the cart; but in the midst of them awoman stood, and her eyes were fixed upon Armand. She wore her pale-greysatin gown, and a white kerchief was folded across her bosom. Her brownhair fell in loose soft curls all round her head. She looked exactlylike the exquisite cameo which Marguerite used to wear. Her hands weretied with cords behind her back, but between her fingers she held asmall bunch of violets.
Armand saw it all. It was, of course, a vision, and he knew that it wasone, but he believed that the vision was prophetic. No thought of thechief whom he had sworn to trust and to obey came to chase away theseimaginings of his fevered fancy. He saw Jeanne, and only Jeanne,standing on the tumbril and being led to the guillotine. Sir Andrew wasnot there, and Percy had not come. Armand believed that a direct messagehad come to him from heaven to save his beloved.
Therefore he forgot his promise--his oath; he forgot those very thingswhich the leader had entreated him to remember--his duty to the others,his loyalty, his obedience. Jeanne had first claim on him. It werethe act of a coward to remain in safety whilst she was in such deadlydanger.
Now he blamed himself severely for having quitted Paris. Even Percymust have thought him a coward for obeying quite so readily. Maybe thecommand had been but a test of his courage, of the strength of his lovefor Jeanne.
A hundred conjectures flashed through his brain; a hundred planspresented themselves to his mind. It was not for Percy, who did notknow her, to save Jeanne or to guard her. That task was Armand's, whoworshipped her, and who would gladly die beside her if he failed torescue her from threatened death.
Resolution was not slow in coming. A tower clock inside the city struckthe hour of six, and still no sign of Percy.
Armand, his certificate of safety in his hand, walked boldly up to thegate.
The guard challenged him, but he presented the certificate. There was anagonising moment when the card was taken from him, and he was detainedin the guard-room while it was being examined by the sergeant incommand.
But the certificate was in good order, and Armand, covered in coal-dust,with the perspiration streaming
down his face, did certainly not looklike an aristocrat in disguise. It was never very difficult to enter thegreat city; if one wished to put one's head in the lion's mouth, one waswelcome to do so; the difficulty came when the lion thought fit to closehis jaws.
Armand, after five minutes of tense anxiety, was allowed to cross thebarrier, but his certificate of safety was detained. He would have toget another from the Committee of General Security before he would beallowed to leave Paris again.
The lion had thought fit to close his jaws.