Robert Tournay Part 39

"Continue," said Madame de Remur. "I was afraid it was going to end unhappily."

The chevalier took a pinch of snuff and settled himself back in the arm-chair which was accorded to him as a tribute to his advanced age; and the poet unfolded his ma.n.u.script and began to read.

It was an intensely appreciative audience that listened to the dramatic work of the poet. They followed with breathless interest the meeting of the young lovers in the hall of the Luxembourg; a.s.sisted smilingly at their rendezvous in the corridors and shadowy corners of the old prison; and sighed gently during the most tender pa.s.sages. At the scene of separation, tears of regret flowed freely, and in the meeting in the last act, tears of joy and sorrow mingled together in sympathetic unison.

As the young poet ended he folded up his ma.n.u.script and bowed his blus.h.i.+ng acknowledgments to the storm of applause that greeted him.

The wave of approbation had not ceased to resound through the room when the outer door opened, and the jailer and some half a dozen gendarmes entered abruptly.

Instantly the hum of conversation stopped, and an icy chill fell upon the a.s.semblage. Faces that the moment before were wreathed in smiles now became pale and marked with fear.

"The call of to-morrow's list to the guillotine," rang out through the room in harsh notes.

Amid the silence of death, a captain of gendarmerie took a slip of paper from his pocket, while a comrade held a lantern under his nose. Some of those who listened wiped the clammy perspiration from their foreheads, others trembled and sat down. Some affected an air of indifference, and began a forced conversation with their neighbors; but all ears were strained. Each dreaded lest his own name or that of some loved one should be called out by that monotonous, relentless voice.

"Bertrand de Chalons."

An old man stepped forward.

"Annette Duclos."

There was a pause after each name, during which the suspense was intensified.

"Diane de Remur."

Madame de Remur laid aside her work and rose.

"Diane! Diane! I cannot bear it!" cried the Countess d'Arlincourt, throwing her arms about her friend's neck. "Oh, sirs, have pity!"

"Hush, my dear," replied Madame de Remur soothingly. "Chevalier, look to the poor child; she is hysterical." The chevalier gently drew the countess aside, then took Madame de Remur's hand and silently bending over it, put it to his lips.

"Take your place in the line, citizeness," called out a gendarme, and Madame de Remur stood with the others.

"Andre de Blois!"

As de Blois' name was called, a shrill cry echoed through the room, and Mademoiselle de Belloeil fell back into the chair from which she had just risen. She did not swoon, but sat like one in a dream, staring with wide-open eyes.

The count stepped to her side.

"Adele," he said, bending down and speaking in a low voice, "give me one of those roses you are wearing on your breast." Mechanically she took the flower from her bosom and put it in his hand. He placed it over his heart. "It shall be here to the last," he said softly; "now farewell;"

and he pressed a kiss upon her cold lips.

"Maurice de Lacheville."

A man crouched down behind a group of prisoners, and all heads were turned in his direction.

"Maurice de Lacheville, you are called," said a gendarme, going up to him and seizing him by the arm with no gentle grasp.

"There is some mistake," cried de Lacheville pitiably.

"There is no mistake, your name is here."

"I say, there must be some mistake. My arrest was a mistake. I was promised"--

"Into the line with you," was the gruff interruption. "Many would claim there was a mistake if it would avail them to say so."

"But in my case it is true," pleaded de Lacheville. "Send word to Robespierre; he promised"--

"Into the line, I tell you!" cried the exasperated gendarme. "There is no mistake; your name is written here. You go with the rest."

"One moment, one little moment," implored the wretched marquis in an agony of fear. "Oh, messieurs the gendarmes, if you will but hear me, I have an important communication to make." All this time he was fighting desperately as the two officers of the law dragged him toward the door.

"Silence, idiot!" yelled the angry captain, "or I will have you bound and gagged. Take example from these women who put you to shame."

"Idiot that I was," cried de Lacheville, "why did I ever return from a place of safety? None but a fool would have trusted the word of Robespierre."

"Bind him," ordered the captain.

With a strength no one would have believed that he possessed, de Lacheville threw off those who held him.

"Stand back!" he shouted wildly, as the officers endeavored to seize him. He drew an object quickly from his pocket.

"Take care, Jean. He has a weapon," cried one.

There was a report of a pistol, and the marquis fell forward to the floor.

A murmur of horror filled the prison hall. Women fainted, and men turned away their heads. The gendarmes hastened to bend over him.

"I believe he is dead, captain," said one after a brief examination.

"Carry him out with the others just the same," ordered the captain.

"Pierre, continue with the list."

"Bertrand de Tourin."

"Here."

"Adele de Belloeil."

There was a cry of joy in the answer:--

"I am here. The Blessed Virgin has heard my prayer;" and Mademoiselle de Belloeil stepped forward. "Andre, I come with you; we shall go together where they can never separate us." And she threw herself into the arms of her lover.

"About face--fall in--forward! march." The heavy door closed, and those who had been called were led away, while those remaining in the prison went quietly to their cells, to recommence the same life on the morrow until the next roll-call.

"The n.o.bility of France," said the chevalier to the philosopher, "may not have known how to live, but it knows how to die."

"Except the Marquis de Lacheville," was the reply.