Robert Tournay Part 52

He released her hand and leaned his elbow on the desk. Her hand fell cold and numb to her side, but the spell in which he had held her was broken. A sudden daring resolve entered her head.

"I have been told that you were a cruel monster, who condemned for the pleasure of condemning; who did not know the meaning of clemency," she said, "and therefore I am afraid of you."

"They have maligned me," he answered.

"Will you prove it by granting me a pardon, one that I can use as I may wish?"

Robespierre became alert on the instant.

"You would set some man at liberty?"

"Yes."

"Your lover, is it not?"

"I pray you, do not ask me."

"Do not ask you!" repeated Robespierre. "And yet you ask me to pardon him. Why should I do it?"

"To prove that you know what clemency is."

"I would rather show it in some other way. I should be a fool to set your lover at liberty, so that you both might laugh at me."

"I have not said that it was my lover."

"No, but I say so."

"You said a moment ago that you knew what mercy was, yet you cannot understand my feeling at the thought that he must die."

Robespierre took up a pen from the table and poised it over a sheet of paper. The pleading look in the beautiful eyes gave him great enjoyment, and he took a keen relish in prolonging it.

"A few words from my pen," he said tantalizingly, "would set the man at liberty. How would you reward me if I wrote them for you?"

"Oh, I pray you to do so," she cried out, throwing herself at his feet.

"I pray you to write them. If you have the power, use it for mercy."

Robespierre gazed deep into the eyes which looked up at him imploringly.

"Who are you?" he demanded with the energy of sudden pa.s.sion. "You are no woman of the common people. Who are you?"

"One who would have you do a n.o.ble action," she answered. "One who is pleading with you for your own soul's sake."

"Whoever you may be, you have bewitched me. Promise you will come hence with me, and I will write the release."

"Write it," she whispered faintly.

Robespierre dashed off a few hurried lines.

"What is the fellow's name?" he asked.

"Sign the paper," she murmured, dropping her eyes. "I implore you, do not ask me his name. Let me fill that in."

"I will free no man from prison unless I know his name," replied Robespierre.

"I will never tell you that," she replied, rising to her feet and going to the other side of the desk, "never."

"What foolish nonsense," he complained, signing his name. "Now," he continued, shaking the sand box over the wet ink, "tell me his name, and I will send this pardon to the conciergerie at once. See, I have written 'immediate release' upon it. You have only to tell me his name. Do you still hesitate?"

There was a sudden rattle in the drawer on Edme's side of the desk.

Leaning forward, she brought one hand down upon the paper, while with the other she pointed a pistol at Robespierre's head.

He turned deadly white and drew back in his chair.

"Would you murder me?" he gasped out.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WOULD YOU MURDER ME?"]

"If you make one movement," she replied, "Marat's fate will be yours."

He cringed further away from the muzzle of the weapon that stared him in the face. With one hand she folded up the doc.u.ment and put it in the bosom of her dress, all the while keeping the pistol aimed steadily at him.

"Now," she continued coolly, "you have the key of the door. Make no movement," she added quickly, bringing the pistol still nearer him, "but tell me where to find it."

"It is in the door now," he snarled.

She came cautiously around the corner of the desk, still keeping the weapon leveled at his head.

He rose to his feet and sprang toward her. The pistol snapped. He caught her by the wrist. Then pinning both her arms to her side with his arms about her waist he breathed in her ear:--

"You cannot fire a pistol that is not loaded, though you _did_ startle me. Now give me that paper."

Edme did not speak, but struggled desperately to break from his grasp.

She determined that he might kill her before she would give back the paper. So fiercely did she struggle that he had to exert all his strength to hold her.

"I'll have that paper again if I have to strangle you to get it!" he muttered through his teeth. He succeeded in holding down both arms with one of his, leaving his left arm free.

Before he could make use of it, he felt himself seized from behind. His nerves, strained by his previous fright, gave way completely at this unexpected attack. Uttering a cry, he released his hold completely.

"Save yourself; I will not hold you to your promise!" cried a voice.

Edme waited to hear nothing more, but darted swiftly from the room, leaving the baffled Robespierre confronted by La Liberte.

For a moment he stood still, his surprise rendering him incapable of speech or action. La Liberte walked jauntily to the door through which Edme had just vanished, locked it, and stuck the key in her belt beside the knife she always wore there.

"Do you know what you are doing, you mad creature?" cried Robespierre, running to the door and putting his hand upon the latch. "Unlock this door at once."

"Wait a moment; I have something to say to you," was La Liberte's rejoinder.

"Give me that key instantly, do you hear?" he yelled, stamping his foot upon the floor. "You do not know what you are doing."

"I know," said La Liberte, nodding her head. "I have seen and heard everything; I have been watching you from the door of the back staircase."