CHAPTER VI
AUGUST TENTH, 1792
Lisle and his mother had finished their dejeuner in the great diningroom of the Paris house. The tall, gilded clock in the entrance hall hadjust struck twelve. All through the meal the cannons in the Carrousel,the inner court of the Tuileries palace, less than a mile away, hadthundered outside. The glass chandelier above the table had shaken untilits chains, jangling together, made a sound like music in the dim, vastroom. The amber-colored velvet curtains at the windows were drawnclosely together and the room was lighted by four candles in goldcandlesticks on the table.
Lisle piled his nutshells in a heap on his plate. He had something totell his mother and he did not know how to go about it. There was a dishof fruit on the table, as well as a carved bowl full of nuts and acarafe of wine and one of water, and even a bowl of flowers, a few redroses which Henri had picked that morning from the vine by the coachhouse. The comtesse leaned forward and picked one from the white bowland held it to her face. Then she said what she had been thinking allthrough the meal:
"Nothing would matter if only you had gone with the others, Lisle. Whydid I let you stay!"
"Because you knew that I would not go!" Lisle answered.
She looked at him and he returned her look steadily.
"I'm not a child any longer. I'm fifteen and a half and the head of thehouse," he went on. "I've stayed to see Paris now. I want to see whathappens."
The comtesse put both hands over her eyes and sat that way for a moment.It was as though she would shut out all the confusion and worry of thepast weeks and months, especially of the last two days.
Within twenty-four hours five of the men servants had left without aword. Some of them left because they were frightened, for it wasbeginning to be thought not so good a thing to be a servant in a greathouse. It was not the loss of her servants that mattered so much. It wasthe fact that they were her enemies, and that, with the exception ofthose who had gone to Pigeon Valley, there was only one remaining whomshe could trust--and that was Henri, one of the footmen.
"Pardon, Madame, you asked for fresh news from the Tuileries. It isgoing hard with the Swiss guards. They made a brave stand but they arelosing badly, Madame. They cannot resist the people, above all theMarseillais!"
It was Henri who spoke. They had not heard him cross the great room.
"The Marseillais are fighting well?" It was Lisle who put the question.
"Like tigers, Monsieur Lisle," the servant answered. He was a little,dark man. His voice shook as he spoke and his face was white above hisred and gold livery.
"The royal family--they are safe?" Madame Saint Frere twisted herlace-bordered handkerchief between her long, white hands as she askedthe question, but her voice did not tremble.
"Henri cannot know what is going on inside the palace or the Carrousel,maman. He can only glean wild rumors from the crowds in the sidestreets," Lisle said a little contemptuously.
"Pardon, Monsieur Lisle, but a runner came through and shouted news atthe Town Hall. The royal family have taken refuge in the riding schoolwith the National Assembly. They went through the gardens."
Henri waited, and, as the two did not question him again, he left theroom as quietly as he had entered it.
The comtesse reread a note that lay beside her plate. It was fromMonsieur Laurent, Lisle's tutor, and it stated in polite terms that hehad left that morning for England, having had a sudden opportunity toget away. His departure seemed unbearable to the comtesse. Now thatLaurent had gone, there were no other men that she could count on atall. She had a brother who was an invalid and some cousins who werepreparing to fight with the Royalists but they were not in Paris at themoment. The Comte de Soigne was away fighting. It seemed as though everykind of protection had left her. Things were happening so suddenly, oneafter another, and although one could not believe that there could beany real danger for any of her family, she would have given much, as shesaid, to have had her only son safe at Pigeon Valley.
"Promise me, Lisle, that you will not go out into the garden," she said.
"I cannot promise that, maman. I'll not be cooped up in the house. Youare fretting about that stupid Laurent. I for one am glad he is gone. Inever want to see his smirking face again." Lisle leaned forward andspoke earnestly. "You must trust yourself to me, maman. I told you thegirls should be sent at once to the country, and you see that I wasright. Whatever happens at the Tuileries, it is only a question of timeuntil the Austrian army comes and our own royalist armies are ready."Lisle looked so earnestly at his mother and spoke so confidently thatthe comtesse smiled in spite of herself and returned his look with oneof pride.
"Maman, I don't trust Henri," Lisle continued, speaking softly. "He doesnot really mean us harm, I think, but he is from Provence and theMarseillais are from Provence. They are proving themselves to be bravesoldiers. Henri, once he is in the crowd, will be heart and soul withthem. You will see!"
As Lisle spoke the tapestry at the far door swayed back and Henri cameinto the room.
"Madame la Comtesse de Soigne is here to see Madame," he said.
Lisle walked with his mother to the salon door, but did not go inside.As Henri opened the door, Lisle saw his mother's friend cross the roomand come toward her. Rosanne stood near the door and made a curtsy ashis mother entered. Lisle waited until Henri had left the hall and thenwent through the marble vestibule, opened the great, grilled door, whichwas the front entrance, and went outside. Gonfleur was waiting by thedoor. Lisle went up to the old man.
"Gonfleur," he said to him, "you are the only one I can trust. There isnot one of our servants who is true to us, now that Neville has gone."
Gonfleur bowed and answered: "I am only an old man, Monsieur Lisle, butthere is nothing I would not do for the family. Madame de Soigne knowsthat well. She is in trouble, is Madame la Comtesse." He did not saymore, so Lisle turned away and went inside to the great drawing-room.His mother and Madame de Soigne were sitting on a velvet chaise longueat one end of the room and talking earnestly. Long mirrors reached tothe ceiling on each side of the room. The rose carpet was of velvet andsank under Lisle's feet as he crossed over to his mother. There weregilded tables and chairs and carved cabinets filled with jeweledtrinkets. The hangings at the long windows were of rose brocade.
Lisle came up to the chaise longue and bowed ceremoniously to thecomtesse and to Rosanne, who stood close to her mother. Madame de Soignewas to leave Paris at once, they told him. She had just had word thather husband, who was with the Royalists, had been wounded and she couldnot stay away from him another hour. Gonfleur would accompany her andMadame Saint Frere was to keep Rosanne safe with her. The Comte deSoigne was in a hospital near Valmy.
"It would have been well, Madame, had you allowed Rosanne to accompanymy sisters and the others to Les Vignes." Lisle spoke coldly; but whenthe comtesse answered, with tears in her eyes, that she had not dreamedof all that twenty-four hours would bring forth, he said simply, "I willcare for Rosanne as though she were my little sister." Then he went outof the room.
There was no one in the great hall, and going into an anteroom he tookdown his black velvet cape and cap and went out through the greatentrance door, closing it after him. He ran quickly down the marblesteps, and, after standing a moment uncertainly on the corner, turned tothe right and walked toward the Champs Elysees.
It was a strange walk, the first one he had ever taken alone in thecity. He had always been accompanied by his tutor or a servant. Boys ofnoble birth did not go out unattended. It was the strangest day that hehad ever known. A wild exhileration seized him and he began to run. Hehad felt this way before when he had ridden to the hounds, when he hadrun at top speed across the fields at Les Vignes, but to-day it was asthough he had never really known emotion. The thunder of the cannonadingat the Tuileries pounded through the great avenue. As he came nearer ablack sea of people loomed before him. The deafening roar of the guns,the screams of the wou
nded, the wild shouting from thousands of throatsmingled, making a hurricane of sound. He stopped suddenly, a littlebewildered, and seeing there would be no chance of going farther on theavenue he turned off and round down a side street, slackening his stepsas he came to the rue Royale.
Here the noise was greater, but although the street was filled withpeople, some leaning out of the windows of shops, others shouting fromthe roof tops, he was able to make his way for some rods. No one noticedhim. He was only a drop in a mighty ocean, only one among millions thattenth day of August, 1792!
There was a noisy crowd of excited onlookers on top of a coach justbeside him and the owner of the coach, a prosperous spinner, who haddrunk deeply of Rhenish wine, was the noisiest of them all. He caughtsight of Lisle, who was wedged in between a group of taller people, andcried out to him:
"Come up and see the show, my fine fellow!"
It was the first time that any one in all the wild city had spoken tohim. He jumped up on to the coach and stood there with the spinner andhis family. The next instant he forgot everything but the sight beforehis eyes.
There was a group of people close to the cart. One could hear theirrough voices and harsh cries above the seething roar of the battle inthe great square beyond. Their scarlet caps gleamed in the relentlessAugust sunshine. They held on to the sides of the cart, screaming, "Vivela nation!" and throwing their arms about each other in a sort offrenzy. It was such as they who were to make a part of the mob that wassoon to govern Paris.
Far at the end of the Place du Carrousel grenadiers, pikemen, andgendarmes lay dead and dying. Floating mists of smoke drifted with thesudden, freakish changing of the wind, and through it all the battle cryof "Death or Liberty" floated back to the watching thousands in theChamps Elysees gardens and in the surrounding streets.
"The Marseillais have the Cour Royale!" was the word passed from lip tolip, and then the cry of "Vive la Nation" swelled like the storm tide ofa sea.
"The Swiss have given way! The Swiss can no longer stand!"
This last cry roused Lisle as he stood on the spinner's cart, and themeaning of it caught his heart. The gallant Swiss guard who had fought,like the brave fellows that they were, to guard the palace and the royalfamily--the Swiss were vanquished!
"The men of the Faubourg de Gloire have the Cour des Princes! Hurrah forthe Faubourg de Gloire!" Again a mighty roar shook the very roofs of thehouses.
Another court of the palace had fallen!
The sun caught the bronze of the cannons in the square and they flashedlike scarlet fire through the iron-grey smoke clouds.
"The men of the Faubourg Saint-Marceau have taken over the Cour desSuisses!"
The last court of the Tuileries was in the hands of the people.
Lisle stood still in the sunshine watching the end of all that had madeup his life. He was too young and inexperienced to realize very muchbeyond the things that he had always known, quiet cherishing of oldtraditions handed down, riches, beauty, unthinking narrowness. His kingand queen were in hiding in the back confines of the Tuileries. Thegreat palace itself was given over to the people who had taken it withbayonet and gun. The roar of the cannons and of the thousands of voicesmeant a good-by to the old ways. Lisle stood there like a statue, hishands clenched at his sides, tears stinging his eyelids, his gold hairablaze in the sun. Then, suddenly, almost without knowing it, he raisedhis voice and cried with all his might:
"God save King Louis!"
He had hardly cried the last word before he was seized from the cart andhalf dragged, half carried at a swift pace down a side street off therue Royale, opposite which the cart had been standing. His captor turneda corner swiftly, and then another, and puffing and gasping for breath,he finally pushed Lisle under a gabled doorway where they could not beseen from the street. Lisle's blue eyes flashed fire into quiet brownones. His captor was a short, fat man in a snuff-colored cloak and widehat. He had a round, kindly face and, in spite of the situation, he wassmiling.
"Take your hand off me. You are not to touch me!"
Lisle was so angry that he spoke with difficulty and his companion wasso blown that he could only puff and pant. He looked furtively aroundthe arched doorway of the deserted shop.
"I was quick and no one shall say tha' Humphrey Trail canna run when thedevil is close," he said, as though to himself. Still holding Lislefirmly by the arm, he turned and smiled at him again, in no waydisturbed by the boy's haughty face and flashing eyes.
"Not so fast, my young gentleman, not so fast." As he spoke HumphreyTrail pushed Lisle back a little farther into the shadow. His hold wasgentle but firm. "Tha hast a rare bright face. I'd not thought tha'dsell tha life so easy there on the cart. Hast tha no sense that thacalls 'Long live the king' with them beside tha that would cut thathroat?"
Lisle tugged at Humphrey's arm with both hands. He was still so angrythat he could scarcely speak. After a moment he called out again, "Godsave King Louis," and smiled mockingly at Humphrey Trail.
His captor seemed in no way put out by the cry, for the side street wasdeserted and there was no one to see or hear them.
"Tha would do well to stop tha foolishness and listen to sense. Thacannot help tha king by tha shouting. Hark to me, lad, and ponder wellwhat I say. This is the greatest day that France has ever known. Markme, lad, this is a day of brave deeds and clean fighting. Days will comeso black that the country will never lose its shame o' them; but to-daythe Marseillais have fought for the love o' nation, and they have foughtwell." Humphrey still held Lisle as he spoke but loosened his grasp whenLisle said:
"There is no need to hold me, for I shall not run away from you. Thereis no harm in you, except that you are meddlesome. You say theMarseillais fought bravely. Well, the Swiss guards fought better! Evenour servant, Henri, who is from Provence, spoke of their bravery!" Therewas a choke in Lisle's voice, though he tried to swallow it. It did notescape Humphrey Trail. Humphrey Trail] "Not so fastagain, young lad. I but meddled, as tha calls it, to save tha life!" hesaid, and, meeting Lisle's flashing eyes with his kindly ones, hesmiled.
Lisle held out his hand. "I believe you, Humphrey Trail, and I thankyou. Know that I am grateful."
Humphrey shook Lisle's hand warmly.
"Th'art no fool that tha remembered my name from my sayin' it that once.Tha speaks English as well and maybe better than I who was born on aYorkshire moor," he said.
Lisle looked at him curiously. "You come from England--from Yorkshire!Why are you here?"
"I'd many a bit o' gold coin saved from my shearin' and sheep sellin'. Iwanted to see things about the world, to go to foreign parts where therewasn't just milkin' and farmin'. I wanted to see a bit o' life, and I amseein' it and likely to see more." Humphrey laughed as he spoke andLisle laughed, too. All anger toward his rescuer had gone, although hestill resented being thought stupid for having shouted for the king, andbeing carried off by this funny, fat farmer in such an unceremoniousway.
Humphrey Trail caught hold of his arm and said:
"Haste tha home, young lad. Keep within tha doors for a spell o' daystill things settle a bit. If it please tha, I'll see tha to tha door!"
"Thank you, Humphrey Trail, I have no fear of being on the streets. Ican go my way quite well alone. I cannot promise you to stay withindoors but, though I shall always shout for my king, I will not forgetyour advice entirely." Lisle held out his hand and the farmer shook itagain warmly, saying:
"Good-by to thee, lad."
He watched Lisle as he walked on down the narrow street and he mutteredto himself, "Th' lad, th' proud, odd lad!"
Toward the end of the narrow lanelike street Lisle paused, hesitated,turned back a step or two, paused again, and then went straight onwithout looking back. Humphrey noticed the action. The boy had somethinghe wanted to say to him.
"Th' lad would ask a favor o' me but his pride put it by him. He wants afriend and there maybe is no one else." As this thought came to him,Humphrey Trail threw the cape of his coat about his s
houlder and walkedrapidly in the direction Lisle had taken. He never lost sight of him.Lisle walked straight ahead and did not once look back. He had lost hisvelvet cap in the affair of the cart and he walked on hatless, unafraid,his hair, a sweep of blazing gold, tied at the back of his neck with aflaring black bow. Humphrey's heart almost failed him as he watchedLisle. It was well indeed for the boy that this tenth of August was nota day for any one person. It was a day of great issues and the time hadnot yet come for individuals! It was a day of wild excitement, ofgallantry and courage! Humphrey Trail had spoken rightly when he hadsaid that it would be the bravest and the best day of all. Those whoguarded the Royal family in the Tuileries had fought like the chivalrousknights that they were. There were never more valorous soldiers than thered-coated Swiss guards who held their places for the king until theycould no longer stand. On the other side, there were never cleaner,braver men than those gay, unfearing men of the Marseillais battalion,who had marched for weeks, through every kind of weather, to fight forliberty in Paris, and who died singing their beloved Marseillaise withtheir last breath,
"L'amour sacree de la patrie!"
Lisle reached his home in safety and, turning in at the iron gates, ranup the marble steps and pulled a silk rope at the side of the grillediron door. He heard the bell clang through the great house. The door wasopened at once by Henri, who gazed at him with a white face and gaspedout:
"Monsieur Lisle, Madame, your mother, is beside herself in fear foryou!"
When Humphrey saw the great doors close after Lisle he turned and walkedrapidly away. He knew where the lad lived and he would not forget thehouse.
Lisle was met at the door of the first salon by his mother, who caughthim by both shoulders, raising a pale, frightened face to his.
"You have been out alone in all this rabble, you who are only a child."She caught her breath with a sob as she spoke.
"I have been out, but I am not a child, maman, and I have made a friendall by myself, without any help from the family." Lisle smiled at hismother. "I have made a friend in Paris to-day, and his name is such anodd one, maman. It is Humphrey Trail!"