Robert Tournay Part 51

"If it were not that it would be giving him to you, I would give my life a thousand times to save him," was the answer.

Edme caught La Liberte by the arm.

"You have it in your power to cause my arrest. If you will not use that power, if you will give me only twenty-four hours, I may be able to save Robert Tournay's life. At the expiration of that time, whether I succeed or fail, I will surrender myself. I will denounce myself before the Committee of Public Safety."

La Liberte looked into Edme's face searchingly but made no reply.

"You understand what I propose," Edme continued in a cool, firm voice.

"If you agree to it you can accomplish what you desire; the rescue of Robert Tournay and my death."

"Bah," said La Liberte with a shrug; "you are very heroic, but, Robert Tournay once out of danger, you would not give yourself up to the committee. In your place, I should not do it, and I will not trust you."

"I give you my promise to appear before Robespierre himself."

"Your promise," repeated La Liberte, "you ask me to accept your simple word?"

"The word of a de Rochefort," said Edme with quiet dignity.

"The word of an aristocrat," continued La Liberte slowly. "You aristocrats vaunt your devotion to honor."

"And will you not trust it when Colonel Tournay's life is at stake?"

asked Edme.

"Yes, I will," La Liberte burst forth in fierce energy. "I _will_ trust your word, and test your honor."

"Then for twenty-four hours you will let me go free? You will not have me watched nor interfered with in any way?"

"I give you _my_ word," said La Liberte, drawing herself up, "and my word is as good as that of the proudest aristocrat."

Then changing her manner she asked quickly: "How do you propose to save Robert Tournay? What can you do?"

Edme had no intention of imparting her plan to La Liberte, yet she did not wish to antagonize her by refusing to confide in her.

"There is not time to go into the details of it now. First help me to get away from here. Those clerks may return."

"I will prevent that," said La Liberte quickly. "I know where they sup.

I will go there and delay their return. They are convivial youngsters and never refuse a gla.s.s or two. In the meantime you must see to it that those three files of warrants do not retain the slightest appearance of having been handled. Be sure that every object in the room is just as you found it."

By this time La Liberte was outside the door. Looking back into the room, she said: "When you have done that, go down this staircase, cross the street, and wait for me in the shadow of the building opposite. I will then conduct you to my house," and La Liberte's feet sprang nimbly down the stairs.

Quickly Edme picked up the pieces of torn warrant, intending to take them away and burn them. Then she turned her attention to the doc.u.ments on the table, and in a few minutes had them arranged just as she found them. She placed the chairs in a natural position before the table, and stepped back for a final survey to a.s.sure herself that she had not left a trace which might arouse the suspicion of the clerks.

No, there was nothing that Hanneton or even Clement would be likely to notice. She had been none too rapid in the arrangement of these details.

The door of the adjoining chamber was unlocked and some one entered.

Edme could tell by the footfalls that the person was traversing the room with measured tread. Then came the sound of a chair being drawn up to a desk. Then a dry cough echoed through the deserted hall as a man cleared his throat.

Edme gave a glance toward the door that led down the staircase taken by La Liberte. It stood invitingly open, but to gain it she would have to pa.s.s the door that communicated with the tribunal. This also was open.

She started on tiptoe across the floor.

The words "Bring me a light here, will you?" fell upon her ears in a harsh tone of authority. She started at this sudden command. She had made no noise, yet the mysterious personage seemed to be aware of her presence.

"In the next room there, whoever you are, bring in more light; this lamp burns villainously!"

Edme hesitated no longer but caught up the lamp from the table and entered the tribunal chamber. As she obediently placed the light upon the desk the man who was writing there looked up with impatient gesture.

Although she had never seen him before, she had heard him described many times, and she knew that he was Robespierre.

"Well!" he exclaimed, "who are you?"

"I--I am here in place of the Citizeness Privat."

"The Citizeness Privat?"

"Yes, she cleans up the rooms, and being ill"--

"Cleans!" repeated Robespierre with a laugh, blowing the dust from the top of the table, "Is that what you call it? This Privat is like all the rest, willing to take the nation's pay and give nothing in return. And you are also like the rest, eh?"

"I do not know what you mean. I am doing her work as well as I can. With your permission I will hasten to complete my task," replied Edme.

In spite of her abhorrence of him she could not help looking at him intently, her eyes expressing the horror which she felt. To her, he was the embodiment of all that was evil, the very spirit of the Revolution.

As her glance rested upon the white waistcoat, fitting close to his meagre figure, and as she thought of the cruel heart that beat beneath it, the vision of Charlotte Corday and the vile Marat flashed before her eyes with startling vividness.

What if heaven had decreed that she should be the means of ridding the world of this monster? What if the opportunity was about to present itself? She pushed the thought away from her, with the inward supplication, "G.o.d keep me from doing it."

Robespierre noticed the look of horror on her face, and attributed it to the fear his presence inspired. His small eyes blinked complacently.

"Stay," he said; "you have nothing to fear if you are a good patriotic citizeness. And you may be pardoned if you neglect your work for a few minutes to converse with Robespierre."

There was an insinuating softness in his tone as he spoke that made her nerves creep and increased her loathing for him. He sat leaning back negligently in his chair, and she stood looking down upon him like some superb creature from another world.

"By the power of beauty," he exclaimed suddenly, "you are a glorious woman! I have always said that only among women of the people is true beauty to be found."

She neither moved nor spoke, but stood still as a statue.

He leaned forward in his chair. "You shall lay aside your broom and dust-rags. I would see more of you. I have it. You shall be the G.o.ddess of Beauty at our next great fete. In that role Robespierre himself will render you homage." Rising, he took one of her hands in his.

She shuddered. It was as if a snake had coiled itself about her fingers.

The contact with her soft hand sent just a drop of blood to his sallow cheek.

"What sayst thou, O glorious creature? Wilt thou be a G.o.ddess of beauty and sit enthroned upon the Champ de Mars, dressed in radiant clothing, instead of these poor garments?" He spoke in low tones meant to be tender.

Again the vision of Charlotte Corday flashed before her.

"No, no!" she cried out, more in answer to the thought that terrified her than to his question.

"Fear nothing, fair one," he said soothingly. "Robespierre is only terrible to the guilty; to the good he is always magnanimous and kind.

Some say that I abuse my power, but that is false. True, I condemn many, but 'tis done with justice; and I also pardon many. Should I receive no credit for my clemency?" he continued, as if he were arguing with some unseen personage.