CHAPTER XIX
IN THE BAKERY SHOP AND OUT OF IT
The baker from the rue Saint Honore was so cross that he glowered at hiswife when she handed him a cup of steaming, nicely sweetened coffee anda plate of cream buns. He was worried, which was one reason for hisbeing cross. He snapped out these words as he took a long drink of thegood coffee:
"There's no telling what will be standing from one day to the next.They're looting and burning everything that takes their fancy! They'vegot the idea this place is too aristocratic. They know it used to beserving royalty. You mark my words, they'll get us yet!" The baker puthis head in his hands with a gesture of despair.
He meant the mobs which went from one end of the city to the other,plundering and stealing and destroying everything upon which they couldlay their hands. They were mad with hunger, many of them, and there wasno one to guide them; rather were they encouraged in their lawlessnessby the very men who should have curbed them, and they lost all semblanceof civilized beings.
"You're as bad as any of them, keeping that boy a prisoner upstairs. Whydon't you put on a uniform and go out with our brave soldiers and fightfor liberty in a clean way, instead of staying at home and turningcoward and villain!" exclaimed the bakery woman with sudden courage.
"I'll ask you to keep a civil tongue in your head and I'll have no moreof your spoiling of that boy. What he needs is a little wholesomediscipline, with his proud face and haughty ways. I couldn't get a wordout of him when I went up there last night; but I'll try something morepersuasive than words if he doesn't look out. I'll not put up with hisimpudence, and I'm going to find out if he knows anything of where thegirl might be. I'm going to find out now!"
The baker finished his coffee with one long gulp and rose from his chairin the outer kitchen. It was evening, and because of the bad times inthat quarter they were closing early. He went through the storeroom, upthe stairs to the room where Lisle was. He unlocked the door and wentin, closing the door behind him.
Lisle was standing by the table. As the baker came up to him he pushedaside the paper and pen he had been using.
"I've come for a word with you and you'll do well to answer me straight.Where do you think the girl may be?"
The baker came close up to Lisle and regarded him severely. Lislereturned his look steadily.
"What girl?" he asked.
"You know well enough what girl. You left her there in the room of yourhouse when you went to the cellar for wood. She wasn't to be found whenwe looked for her. She wasn't anywhere about. You'll have to say whereyou think she may be, and you'll have to say it quick!"
Lisle smiled, leaning back against the side of the table and looking thebaker over impudently.
"You don't look as stupid as you sound," he said.
"Is that so, you young high and mighty. I'll find a way to take you downa peg. I'll have none of your impertinence. You'll give me civil wordsand you'll give me a straight answer or I'll give you something you'llnot relish, that I can tell you. Where is the De Soigne child?"
"I don't know where she is. I haven't any idea, but I'm glad she's safefrom you. Who knows, perhaps some one has come to her aid. That's whatI'm hoping." As Lisle spoke, Humphrey Trail's honest face came into hismind, and with it a certain confidence. Often during these past weeks hehad thought of Humphrey, and gone over in his mind their last meeting.His pride had not let him take Humphrey's advice and he had kept on withhis visits to the bakery shop. He would have given a great deal to haveseen Humphrey just at that minute. There was only one other person whomhe would rather have seen, and that was Dian, the shepherd.
"There's one thing I know," cried the baker, "and that is you need agood taste of a whip. And, as sure as my name's Charles Tortot, you'llget it this very night. I'll see to it that you shed some big tearsbefore you're many hours older, my fine fellow!" The baker was so angrythat he stuttered as he spoke, and his temper was not improved byLisle's next remark.
"You couldn't make me cry and you know it. I'm not afraid of you, and Ithink you know that, too," he said. He was still leaning back againstthe table, his hands on the side of it. The baker glared at him but hehad to admit to himself that his prisoner certainly did not lookfrightened, no matter how he may have felt. The baker looked at him fora moment, at his blue velvet suit, the freshly washed lace frills at hiswrists, his white face and blue eyes, and the bright gold of his hair,tied back with its flare of ribbon. A silly whim of his wife's and onethat he should put a stop to. He stood there frowning at Lisle in thedusky twilight, and Lisle's proud eyes frowned back at him.
* * * * *
Dian came in through the alley and climbed the rickety stairs to theroom on the first landing. He had seen Raoul go through the gates anhour before, and knew that with him had gone the letters, one to Champarhimself, and one for him to deliver to Grigge in Pigeon Valley. He wasthinking of Lisle as he climbed the stairs, trying to plan out the bestway to get a message to him.
He knocked on the door and said, "This is Dian," and Vivi opened it forhim, smiling a welcome.
"Dian, stay and talk with us. I have told Vivi everything I know and shehas told me so many funny things about her life, but we're tired now."Rosanne came running across the room as she spoke, and, catching hold ofthe shepherd's hand, drew him over by the window. He noted that she waspale, and for a moment his heart sank. Like Humphrey, he felt aresponsibility for them all, but, unlike him, was able, after a moment,to banish his forebodings.
"You will have many adventures to talk over with your friends when youare an old, old woman, Mademoiselle," he said to her smilingly.
"See what we have for supper! Humphrey brought us garlic and some freshlettuce," Rosanne went on, trying to be cheerful, and receiving a rewardin Dian's pleased smile.
They had put an overturned box by the one small window and had spreadtheir supper on it. The lettuce and garlic reposed in a tin plate in thecenter of the improvised table, and a loaf of bread lay on a clean pieceof paper at one side. Next to the plate of lettuce was a small glassfilled with a few early violets. Dian came up to the table and stoodlooking down at it and at Rosanne. He touched one of the violets withhis finger.
"A farmer woman gave them to me. She was sitting in her cart near thewest gate. I told her that I had some young friends who would lovethem," he said.
"Dian, they are like those at Pigeon Valley. Dian, think of it--PigeonValley. I was telling Vivi just now about the lilies on the southterrace at Les Vignes, clusters, crowds of them, white and gold. They'llbloom in June, Dian!" Two tears rolled down Rosanne's face, but shesmiled through them. "I want to see Marie Josephine more than everto-night. I----"
Dian put his hand gently on her shoulder.
"You are brave," he said, and then turning toward Vivi he added: "Viviis brave, too. She is helping us all the time."
It was the best thing in the world he could have said, for Rosanneforgot herself at once and thought of Vivi.
"Yes, she is the best friend. She is so good to me. When she comes inshe has always something for me, and when I am restless she dances forme, and then I dance for her. She has learned to do the minuet with menicely, but she likes her own dances better."
Vivi followed Dian to the door when he went out, and as he opened itMinuit came in, rubbing herself against him as she passed him.
Dian walked toward the city. The sky was bright with stars. He thoughtof the stars as they shone on the meadows of Les Vignes.
When he came to the corner leading into the rue Saint Honore, he stoodstill. There was the way of the Champs Elysees, in the evening alwaysthe more quiet of the avenues. The tumbrils, which passed there all day,stopped at sundown when the guillotine finished its day's work, and thecrowds gathered along the rue Royale or about the Place de la Bastille,or down the length of the rue Saint Honore.
Dian hesitated. He felt so tired of crowds, even of the thought of them,and, like Ro
sanne, he wanted Pigeon Valley. Still he hesitated. Yearsbefore, one wild, cold night, he had been a good distance from LesVignes and had been coming home late. There had been two roads. One heknew well, for it led straight across the fields to his sheepfold door;the other was over rough stubble, hard and uneven from the early frost.One was easy going and he knew every inch of it, the other was uphilland a long way around. He took the difficult road, and halfway to LesVignes he had come across one of his lambs, half dead with cold. It hadstrayed from the others and lay helpless and bleating on the starkhillside. He had lifted it and carried it home under his cloak, warmedand comforted. Something had told him to take the harder path, and thesame trust had led him through it. He turned toward the rue Saint Honoreand as soon as he was halfway down the street he found himself one of awild mob. All about him hoarse voices were screaming. He was carriedalong with the pressing crowd.
* * * * *
The baker was angry at Lisle, but he was curious, too. He had never seenany one like him. He had threatened to whip him and yet Lisle had stilldared to defy him about the girl, and had spoken with an amazingimpudence. Tortot went toward the door.
"We'll see if I can't rid you of some of that impertinence, my finefellow," he snarled.
While the baker had been speaking, there was a strange roaring soundsomewhere in the distance, and when he finished it seemed to be verynear. He paused uncertainly and his face showed white in the growingdusk. He ran over to the door and opened it, and as he did so there wasa frightful crashing sound of breaking glass, mad shouting, then anothercrash, and the sound of a door being broken down.
Tortot stood as one dazed, but even in his fright and bewilderment hehad presence of mind enough to put himself in front of the door as Lislemade a rush for it. The baker's broad bulk completely barred the way andhe was quick enough to prevent Lisle from ducking under his arm. Therewas the sound of tables and chairs being overthrown, more shouting, andthen the bakery woman's voice calling lustily:
"Charles, Charles, they are destroying us!"
It was only for a couple of minutes that Lisle and the baker struggledin the doorway. Then there was a burst of sound from the kitchens, thecrash of pewter and iron cooking pans and tins being thrown down, voicesharshly singing the "Ca Ira," and the next instant a tall figure, withragged red locks about his shoulders, swung himself up the stairway,knocked the baker down with one fierce thrust of his arm, and catchingLisle about the waist, threw him up over his shoulder.
He was down again like a flash, through the storeroom to the bakery shopwhere confusion reigned. Cakes were scattered broadcast, and brokenchina dishes lay in scattered heaps on the floor and counter. Dian withone quick, strong gesture had flung his cloak about Lisle as he ran withhim down the stairway. Holding him close in his arms he ran on throughthe shop, out into the freedom of the streets!
Dian ran steadily and easily. He was used to long stretches ofcountryside, but he was not used to the tortuous, winding streets ofParis. He knew that some of those in the shop must have seen him, but ashe had completely covered Lisle with his cloak he hoped that, had anyone given him a thought, it would be only to surmise that he had run offwith some especially choice piece of loot.
He turned in and out of several narrow, twisted streets, and at laststopped for a moment in the shadow of a doorway. He listened but couldhear nothing but the usual roar of the city all about them. Then he putLisle gently to the ground, throwing the cloak back so that he could seehis face in the dim light.
"It's Dian, Little Master," he said.
Lisle, having been for several weeks confined in one small room withlittle fresh air, and having nothing to eat for the last two days, or atany rate, only enough to appease the bakery woman who had been concernedat his indisposition, was dazed and weak. He had been threatened onemoment by the baker, and the next moment grabbed by some one, coveredwith a cloak, and run with at a tremendous pace, and now in a doorway inthe heart of Paris, Dian was holding him, speaking in quiet, familiartones.
Lisle put his head down in the hollow of his arm and stood very stillfor a moment.
"We're going home, Little Master. We'll be there soon," Dian said again,and Lisle turned toward him as children and animals always did.
"Yes, home," he said weakly, but when Dian offered to carry him, heshook his head.
"It's better so, Little Master, for dressed as you are you will not besafe in the streets. It's near now, and soon you'll be safe and quiet."Dian lifted him as he spoke and walked quickly with his long, easystrides until he came to the Saint Frere house. He went in through thecellar window, turned and drew Lisle in after him, then listenedintently. There was no sound anywhere. Then he struck the flint andtinder which he kept on a shelf near the window and lit a lanthorn whichhe also kept on the shelf. It was the same green lanthorn which MarieJosephine had lit when she went down to the secret cellar.
Then Dian spoke to Lisle.
"Little Master, I am taking you where you will be safe. It is a placethat Monsieur your grandfather loved, and it was built by the LisleSaint Frere whom you have always loved to think about. Come with me, andmind your steps well, for we are going down a secret stairway into ahidden room." As he spoke, Dian led Lisle across the cellar, andstooping at the seventh stone, pressed it and it opened.
Down, down into the gloom below them, the last Lisle Saint Frerefollowed Dian the shepherd, down to the cellar built by the first LisleSaint Frere, deep in the heart of the earth!