Orphans of the Storm Part 7

The little homekeeper put a warning finger to mouth. Running past him to the door, she slipped out and closed it. She withdrew to the back of the hall, and came forward nonchalantly as the a.s.sa.s.sins reached the hallway.

Rapier at her throat, the leader put the silent but terrible question.

Henriette's heart jumped. She managed not to show her terror.

"I saw a man going up those stairs three steps at a time!" she lied superbly, pointing to the floor above.

The company ran up the third-floor stairs on the double jump. As they vanished, she was inside her rooms again and with the quarry.

Minutes pa.s.sed. The spada.s.sins searched the top garrets. They sought the roof, saw escape was impossible that way. Then they clattered down the stairs. The leader hesitated at Henriette's door.

"Faugh!" he said. "The girl is just a simpleton, she couldn't have tricked us!"

At his command the men marched down--to encounter unexpectedly a company of national gendarmes that had been hurriedly summoned to the scene of the disturbance.

In the porch melee Danton's side had been painfully slashed. Despite the pain, he recognized his little preserver and thanked her. Still holding his hand to his side and half-reeling, he moved to go. Now that all seemed quiet, he proposed to rid her of the compromising presence of a man in her room.

Henriette seized him with her little arms.

"No, no, you can't go!" she said with a little smile of divine pity.

"Better a little gossip about me than that you should lose your life."

Henriette locked the door!

She strove to carry the disabled giant to the nearest chair. Leaning heavily on her, he walked with an effort and plumped down on it. One of his arms was around her. She tried to free it, but it clung. With hands and knees she crawled out backward from the unconscious embrace.

It was the work of but a few minutes to wash and bind his wound. Next she spread a pallet on the floor, a.s.sisted him to it, wrapped him warmly, and with a kind "Good night!" left him to go to her little boudoir....

That same night the spada.s.sins were met and disarmed by the gendarmes who (largely owing to Danton's eloquence) espoused the people's side.

And that is why Monsieur Robespierre, his confrere, was abroad very early, without fear of a.s.sa.s.sins, and nosing for news.

"I hear Danton was in a little trouble last night!" gossiped the slick citizen with his landlady. "The fight was in this very house, was it not?"

The landlady, it seemed, was ignorant of Danton's refuge. But Robespierre suspected. He decided to investigate, being a stickler for propriety. Mounting the stairs stealthily, he knocked at Henriette's door.

The girl and the man were at their leave-taking. Few words were spoken. The giant clasped both her little hands in his great paws.

"What you have done for me I shall never forget!" he was saying.

"Oh, if I had a great kind brother like this!" was her sudden thought.

"Whisht!" she whispered vocally as the knock was heard. Again the little gesture of warning finger to mouth.

She stole to the keyhole and thought she recognized the habiliments of her neighbor the dandy. Motioning Danton back out of sight she opened the door on the crack, closed it as she slipped through, and encountered the bowing and smirking Robespierre.

"A man escaped from the spada.s.sins here last night-did he find refuge with you?"

"You are mistaken, Monsieur. I am quite alone."

"May I just see? Very intimate friend of mine, I am sure."

"No, you _may not_!" Henriette quickly reentered, and slammed and locked the door on the future Dictator of France. 'Twas only a little door slam, but it re-echoed later, even at the Gates of Death! Rubbing his long nose Robespierre took snuff.

"Sh-h, he is still there!" whispered the girl to Danton, with another look through keyhole. Presently steps were heard going downstairs.

"I think he is gone!" she said, verifying her statement by again opening the door and finding the coast clear.

Danton, with a final good-by, went his way.

The sneak, however, had retraced his downstairs steps with cat-like tread. In an alcove of the back hall he had found a hiding post.

As Danton's broad back descended down the steps, a vulpine head peered out of the alcove, and Robespierre's cunning, self-satisfied look showed that he recognized Henriette's visitant.

CHAPTER XI

LOUISE BEFORE NOTRE DAME

In the days following her immurement in the dreadful sub-cellar, Louise became the Frochards' breadwinner. Her pathetic blindness, lovely face and form, and sweet young voice attracted sympathy from each pa.s.ser-by. The offerings all went into the capacious pocket of La Frochard, whence indeed most of them were stolen or cajoled by her worthless scamp of a Jacques.

The old hag feared only lest she lose her precious acquisition of the blind girl. She guarded her ceaselessly, and warded off dangerous questioners.

It was not easy, however, to avoid the good Doctor from La Force, who gave them a donative and looked at the girl with deep professional interest. Despite the beggar's tactics, he insisted on examining the pupils, then called La Frochard aside.

"Don't encourage her too much," said the old gentlemen kindly, "but bring her to me. I am quite sure that she can be cured."

Rejoining Louise and smiling her wheedling beggar's smile at the departing Doctor, the features of Widow Frochard suddenly contorted in black rage--she shook her fist at the physician directly his back was turned. Monstrous--to restore sight, and thus make the girl worthless as object of charity! La Frochard felt she had good reason for her rage.

"Can the Doctor do anything?" ventured Louise to the hag, timidly.

"No, he said your case is hopeless."

They were standing now near the snowy steps of Notre Dame, awaiting wors.h.i.+ppers whose pity would be stirred by the girl's misfortune.

Half-drunken Jacques had reeled out of a cabaret to exact his share of the plunder. Mother and first-born cursed heartily the scissors-grinder Pierre who came limping up, saying he could get no jobs on account of the bitter cold, wintry day. Kicking the cripple and twisting Louise's arm were the favorite pastimes of Jacques and the Widow.

On this occasion the hag s.n.a.t.c.hed the covering from the wretched girl's shoulders and put it around her own. "You'll s.h.i.+ver better without that shawl!" she said, brutally setting the scene for the wors.h.i.+ppers' charity.

"Jacques and I," she continued, "are going to get a little drink to warm our frozen bodies.

"Guard her there, you good-for-nothing Pierre, or I'll break every bone of your body!" They departed to spend the Doctor's gold-piece.

Pierre tried vainly to comfort the girl. He could but find her a seat in a pile of snow! He warmed her hands with his own, strove to speak cheering words. But teeth were chattering, and her frail form was quivering as with the ague.

A great wave of pity and love overwhelmed the cripple. He peeled off his coat, beneath which were but the thinnest rags. He wrapped it around her, saying:

"There, there! this will help you keep warm. I really do not need it--I--I-am-not-c-c-cold!"

His own teeth were chattering now, and his pinched features were purple.