The Royal Life Guard; or, the flight of the royal family.

CHAPTER XI.

THE QUEEN'S HAIRDRESSER

On the morning of the twenty-first of June, the Count of Choiseul, who had notified the King that he could wait no longer but must pick up his detachments along the road and fall back towards Bouille, who was also at the end of his patience, was told that a messenger from the Queen was at last at his house in Paris.

It was Leonard the Queen's hairdresser. He was a favorite who enjoyed immense credit at the court, but the duke could wish for a more weighty confidant. But how could the Queen go into exile without the artist who alone could build up her hair into one of those towers which caused her to be the envy of her sex and the stupefaction of the sterner one?

He was wearing a round hat pulled down to his eyes and an enormous "wraprascal," which he explained were property of his brother. The Queen, in confiding to him her jewels, had ordered him to disguise himself, and placed himself under the command of Choiseul. Not only verbal was this direction but in a note which the duke read and burned.

He ordered a cab to be made ready. When the servant reported it at the door, he said to the hairdresser:

"Come, my dear Leonard."

"But where?"

"A little way out of town where your art is required."

"But the diamonds?"

"Bring them along."

"But my brother will come home and see I have taken his best hat and overcoat – he will wonder what has become of me."

"Let him wonder! Did not the Queen bid you obey me as herself?"

"True, but Lady Ange will be expecting me to do up her hair. Nobody can make anything of her scanty wisp but me, and – "

"Lady Ange must wait till her hair grows again."

Without paying farther heed to his lamentations, the lord forced him into his cab and the horse started off at a fast gait. When they stopped to renew the horse, he believed they were going to the world's end, though the duke confessed that their destination was the frontier.

At Montmirail they were to pass the balance of the night, and indeed at the inn beds were ready. Leonard began to feel better, in pride at having been chosen for such an important errand.

At eleven they reached Sommevelle Bridge, where Choiseul got out to put on his uniform. His hussars had not yet arrived.

Leonard watched his preparations, particularly his freshening the pistol primings, with sharp disquiet and heaved sighs which touched the hearer.

"It is time to let you into the truth, Leonard; you are true to your masters so you may as well know that they will be here in a couple of hours. The King, the Queen, Lady Elizabeth, and the royal children. You know what dangers they were running, and dangers they are running still, but in two hours they will be saved. I am awaiting a hussar detachment to be brought by Lieut. Goguelat. We will have dinner and take our time over it."

But they heard the bugle and the hussars arrived. Goguelat brought six blank royal warrants and the order from Bouille for Choiseul to be obeyed like himself by all military officers, whatever their ranking seniority.

The horses were hobbled, wine and eatables served out to the troopers and Choiseuil sat at table.

Not that the lieutenant's news was good. He had found ferment everywhere along the road. For more than a year rumors of the King's flight had circulated as well in the country as in town, and the stationing of the soldiers had aroused talk. In one township the village church bells had sounded the alarm.

This was calculated to dull even a Choiseuil's appetite. So he got up from the board in an hour, as the clock struck half after twelve, and leaving Lieut. Boudet to rule the troop of horse, he went out on a hill by the town entrance which commanded a good view. Every five minutes he pulled out his watch, and, each time, Leonard groaned: "Oh, my poor masters, they will not come. Something bad has happened them."

His despair added to the duke's disquiet.

Three o'clock came without any tidings. It will be remembered that this was the hour when the King left Chalons.

While Choiseul was fretting, Fatality, unless Cagliostro had a hand in it, was preparing an event which had much to do with influencing the drama in course of performance.

A few days before, some peasants on the Duchess of Elbœuf's estate, near Sommevelle Bridge, had refused payment of some unredeemable taxes. They were threatened with the sheriff calling in the military; but the Federation business had done its work and the inhabitants of the neighborhood vowed to make common cause with their brothers of the plow and came armed to resist the process-servers.

On seeing the hussars ride in, the clowns thought that they were here for this purpose. So they sent runners to the surrounding villages and at three o'clock the alarm-bells were booming all over the country.

Choiseul went back on hearing this and found Lieut. Boudet uneasy.

Threats were heard against the hussars who were the best hated corps in the army. The crowd bantered them and sang a song at them which was made for the occasion:

Other persons, better informed or keener, began to whisper that the cavalry were here not to execute a writ on the Elbœuf tillers but to wait for the King and Queen coming through.

Meanwhile four o'clock struck without any courier with intelligence.

The count put Leonard in his cab with the diamonds, and sent him on to Varennes, with order to say all he could to the commanders of each military troop on the road.

To calm the agitation he informed the mob that he and his company were there not to assist the sheriff, but to guard a treasure which the War Minister was sending along. This word "treasure," with its double meaning, confirmed suspicions on one side while allaying irritability on the other. In a short time he saw that his men were so outnumbered and as hedged in that they could do nothing in such a mass, and would have been powerless to protect the Royal Family if they came then.

His orders were to "act so that the King's carriage should pass without hindrance," while his presence was becoming an obstacle instead of protection.

Even had the King came up he had better be out of the way. Indeed his departure would remove the block from the highway. But he needed an excuse for the going.

The postmaster was there among half-a-dozen leading citizens whom a word would turn into active foes. He was close to Choiseul who inquired:

"My friend, did you hear anything about this military money-chest coming through?"

"This very morning," replied the man, "the stage-coach came along for Metz with a hundred thousand crowns; two gendarmes rode with it."

"You don't say so?" cried the nobleman, amazed at luck so befriending him.

"It is so true that I was one of the escort," struck in a gendarme.

"Then the Minister preferred that way of transmitting the cash," said Choiseul, turning to his lieutenant, quietly, "and we were sent only as a blind to highwaymen. As we are no longer needed, I think we can be off. Boot and saddle, my men!"

The troop marched out with trumpets sounding and the count at the head as the clock struck half-past five.

He branched off the road to avoid St. Menehould, where great hubbub was reported to prevail.

At this very instant, Isidore Charny, spurring and whipping a horse which had taken two hours to cover four leagues, dashed up to the posthouse to get another; asking about a squad of hussars he was told that it had marched slowly out of the place a quarter of an hour before; leaving orders about the horses for the carriage, he rode off at full speed of the fresh steed, hoping to overtake the count.

Choiseul had taken the side road precisely as Isidore arrived at the post, so that the viscount never met him.

CHAPTER XII.

MISCHANCE

Ten minutes after young Charny rode out, the King's coach rumbled in.

As the duke had foreseen, the crowd had dissolved almost completely.

Knowing that a detachment of soldiery was to be at Sommevelle, Charny had thought he need not linger and had galloped beside the door, urging on the postillions and keeping them up to the hand-gallop.

On arriving and seeing neither Choiseul nor the escort, the King stuck his head out of the window.

"For mercy's sake, do not show yourself," said Charny; "let me inquire."

In five minutes he returned from the postinghouse where he had learnt all, and he repeated it to the monarch. They understood that the count had withdrawn to leave the road open. No doubt he had fallen back on St. Menehould where they ought to hasten to find him with the hussars and dragoons.

"What am I to do?" asked Charny as they were about to proceed again; "does the Queen order me to go ahead or ride in the rear?"

"Do not leave me," said the Queen.

He bowed, and rode by the carriage side.

During this time Isidore rode on, gaining on the vehicle, and fearing that the people of St. Menehould would also take umbrage at having the soldiers in their town. He was not wrong.

The first thing he perceived there was a goodly number of National Guards scattered about the streets; they were the first seen since he left the capital.

The whole town seemed in a stir and on the opposite side, drums were beating.

He dashed through the streets without appearing to notice the tumult: crossing the square he stopped at the postinghouse.

On a bench in the square he noticed a dozen dragoons not in their helmets but fatigue caps, sitting at ease. Up at a ground floor window lounged Marquis Dandoins in undress, also, with a riding whip in his hand.

Isidore passed without seeming to look, presuming that the captain would recognize the royal courier by his uniform and not need any other hint.

At the posthouse was a young man whose hair was cut short in the Emperor Titus fashion which the Patriots adopted in the period: he wore his beard all round the lower face from ear to ear. He was in a dressing gown.

"What do you want?" challenged the black-whiskered man, seeing that the new-comer was looking round.

"To speak to the postmaster."

"He is out just now, but I am his son, Jean Baptiste Drouet. If I can replace him, speak."

He had emphasized his name as though he fore-felt that it would take a place on the historic page.

"I want six horses for two carriages coming after me."

Drouet nodded to show that he would fulfill the order and walked into the stable yard, calling out:

"Turn out there! six horses for carriages and a nag for the courier."

At this nick Marquis Dandoins hurriedly came up to Isidore.

"You are preceding the King's coach, I suppose?" he questioned.

"Yes, my lord, and I am surprised to see that you and your men are not in the battle array."

"We have not been notified; besides, very ugly manifestations have been made around us; attempts to make my men mutiny. What am I to do?"

"Why, as the King passes, guard the vehicle, act as circumstances dictate, and start off half an hour after the Royal Family to guard the rear." But he interrupted himself saying: "Hush, we are spied. Perhaps we have been overheard. Get away to your squadron and do all you can to keep your men steadfast."

Indeed, Drouet was at the kitchen door where this dialogue was held. Dandoins walked away.

At this period, cracking of whips was heard: the royal coach rolled up across the square and stopped at the posthouse.

At the noise it made, the population mustered around the spot with curiosity.

Captain Dandoins, whose heart was sore about the oversight, and wanting to explain why his men were standing at ease instead of being ready for action, darted up to the carriage window, taking off his cap and bowing, with all kind of respect to excuse himself to the sovereign and the Royal Family. To answer him the King put his head out of the window several times.

Isidore, with his foot in the stirrup, was near Drouet who watched the conveyance with profound attention: he had been up to town to the Federation Festival and he had seen the King whom he believed he recognized. That morning he had received a number of the new issue of assignats the paper money of the State which bore the monarch's head: he pulled one out and compared it with the original. This seemed to cry out to him: "You have the man before you."

Isidore went round the carriage to the other side where his brother was masking the Queen by leaning his elbow on the window.

"The King is recognized," he said; "hurry off the carriage and take a good look at that tall dark fellow – the postmaster's son, who has recognized the King. His name is Jean Baptiste Drouet."

"Right," responded George, "I will look to him. You, be off!"

Isidore galloped on to Clermont to have the fresh horses ready there.

Scarcely was he through the town before the vehicle started off, by Malden and Valory pressing and the promise of extra money.

Charny had lost sight of Drouet who did not budge, but was talking with the groom. The count went up to him.

"Was there no horse ordered for me, sir?" he demanded.

"One was ordered, but we are out of them."

"What do you mean – when here is a saddled horse in the yard."

"That is mine."

"But you can let me have it. I do not mind what I pay."

"Impossible. I have a journey to make, and it cannot be postponed."

To insist was to cause suspicions; to take by force was to ruin all. He thought of a means to smoothe over the difficulty. He went over to Captain Dandoins who was watching the royal carriage going round the corner. He turned on a hand being laid on his shoulder.

"Hush, I am Count Charny," said the Lifeguard. "I cannot get a horse here. Let me have one of your dragoons' as I must follow the King and the Queen. I alone know where the relays set by the Count of Choiseul are, and if I am not at hand the King will be brought to a standstill at Varennes."

"Count, you must take my charger, not one of my men's."

"I accept. The welfare of the Royal Family depends on the least accident. The better the steed the better the chances."

The two went through the town to the marquis' lodgings. Before departing Charny charged a quarter-master to watch young Drouet.

Unfortunately the nobleman's rooms were five hundred paces away. When the horses were saddled a quarter of an hour had gone by; for the marquis had another got ready as he was to take up the rear guard duty over the King.

Suddenly it seemed to Charny that he heard great clamor and could distinguish shouts of "The Queen, the Queen!"

He sprang from the house, begging Dandoins to have the horse brought to the square.

The town was in an uproar. Scarcely had Charny and his brother noble gone, as if Drouet had waited for it, he shouted out:

"That carriage which went by is the King's! in it are the King, the Queen, and the Royals!"

He jumped on his horse; some friends sought to detain him.

"Where are you off to? what do you intend? what is your project?"

"The colonel and the troop are here. We could not stop the King without a riot which might turn out ill for us. What cannot be done here can be done at Clermont. Keep back the dragoons, that is all I ask."

And away galloped he on the track of the King.

Hence the shouting that the King and the Queen had gone through, as Charny heard. Those shouts set the mayor and councilmen afoot; the mayor ordered the soldiers into the barracks as eight o'clock was striking and it was the hour when soldiers had no business to be about in arms.

"Horses!" cried Charny as Dandoins joined him.

"They are coming."

"Have you pistols in the holsters?"

"I loaded them myself."

"Good! Now, all hangs on the goodness of your horse. I must catch up with a man who has a quarter-hour's start, and kill him."

"You must kill him – "

"Or, all is lost!"

"Do not wait for the horses, then."

"Never mind me; you, get your men out before they are coaxed over; look at the mayor speechifying to them! you have no time to lose either; make haste!"

At this instant up came the orderly with the two chargers. Charny took the nearest at hazard, snatched the reins from the man's hands, leaped astride, drove in both spurs and burst away on the track of Drouet, without clearly comprehending what the marquis yelled after him. Yet these words were important.

"You have taken my horse and not yours, and the pistols are not loaded!"

CHAPTER XIII.

STOP, KING!

With Isidore riding before it, the royal conveyance flew over the road between St. Menehould and Clermont.

Night was falling; the coach entered Argonne Forest crossing the highway.

The Queen had noticed the absence of Charny, but she could not slacken the pace or question the postboys. She did lean out a dozen times but she discovered nothing.

At half-past nine they reached Clermont, four leagues covered. Count Damas was waiting outside the place as he had been warned by Leonard and he stopped Isidore on recognizing his livery.

"You are Charles de Damas? well; I am preceding the King. Get your dragoons in hand and escort the carriage."

"My lord," replied the count, "such a breath of discontent is blowing that I am alarmed, and must confess that my men cannot be answered for, if they recognize the King. All I can promise is that I will fall in behind when he gets by, and bar the road."

"Do your best – here they come!"

He pointed to the carriage rushing through the darkness and visible by the sparks from the horses' shoes.

Isidore's duty was to ride ahead and get the relays ready. In five minutes, he stopped at the posthouse door.

Almost at the same time, Damas rode up with half-a-dozen dragoons, and the King's coach came next. It had followed Isidore so closely that he had not had time to remount. Without being showy it was so large and well built that a great crowd gathered to see it.

Damas stood by the door to prevent the passengers being studied. But neither the King nor the Queen could master their desire to learn what was going on.

"Is that you, Count Damas?" asked the King. "Why are not your dragoons under arms?"

"Sire, your Majesty is five hours behind time. My troop has been in the saddle since four P. M. I have kept as quiet as possible but the town is getting fretful; and my men want to know what is the matter. If the excitement comes to a head before your Majesty is off again, the alarm bell will be rung and the road will be blocked. So I have kept only a dozen men ready and sent the others into quarters; but I have the trumpeters in my rooms so as to sound the Boot-and-Saddle at the first call. Your Majesty sees that all was for the best for the road is free."

"Very well; you have acted like a prudent man, my lord," said the King; "when I am gone, get your men together and follow me closely."

"Sire, will you kindly hear what Viscount Charny has to say?" asked the Queen.

"What has he to say?" said the King, fretfully.

"That you were recognised by the St. Menehould postmaster's son, who compared your face with the likeness on the new paper money; his brother the count stayed behind to watch this fellow, and no doubt something serious is happening as he has not rejoined us."

"If we were recognized, the more reason to hurry. Viscount, urge on the postboys and ride on before."

Isidore's horse was ready. He dashed on, shouting to the postillions: "The Varennes Road!" and led the vehicle, which rattled off with lightning speed.

Damas thought of following with his handful but he had positive orders and as the town was in commotion – lights appearing at windows and persons running from door to door – he thought only of one thing: to stop the alarm bell. He ran to the church tower and set a guard on the door.

But all seemed to calm down. A messenger arrived from Dandoins, to say that he and his dragoons were detained at St. Menehould by the people; besides – as Damas already knew – Drouet had ridden off to pursue the carriage which he had probably failed to catch up with, as they had not seen him at Clermont.

Then came a hussar orderly, from Commandant Rohrig, at Varennes with Count Bouille and another. He was a young officer of twenty who was not in the knowledge of the plot but was told a treasure was in question. Uneasy at time going by they wanted to know what news Damas could give.

All was quiet with them and on the road the hussar had passed the royal carriage.

"All's well," thought Count Damas, going home to bid his bugler sound "Boot and Saddle!"

All was therefore going for the best, except for the St. Menehould incident, by which Dandoins' thirty dragoons were locked up.

But Damas could dispense with them from having a hundred and forty.

Returning to the King's carriage, it was on the road to Varennes.

This place is composed of an upper and a lower town; the relay of horses was to be ready beyond the town, on the farther side of the bridge and a vaulted passage, where a stoppage would be bad.

Count Jules Bouille and Raigecourt were to guard these horses and Charny was to guide the party through the daedalus of streets. He had spent a fortnight in Varennes and had studied and jotted down every point; not a lane but was familiar, not a boundary post but he knew it.

Unfortunately Charny was not to the fore.

Hence the Queen's anxiety doubled. Something grave must have befallen him to keep him remote when he knew how much he was wanted.

The King grew more distressed, too, as he had so reckoned on Charny that he had not brought away the plan of the town.

Besides the night was densely dark – not a star scintillated.

It was easy to go wrong in a known place, still more a strange one.

Isidore's orders from his brother was to stop before the town.

Here his brother was to change horses and take the lead.

He was as troubled as the Queen herself at this absence. His hope was that Bouille and Raigecourt in their eagerness would come out to meet the Royal party: they must have learnt the site during three days and would do as guides.

Consequently on reaching the base of the hill, seeing a few lights sparkling over the town, Isidore pulled up irresolutely, and cast a glance around to try and pierce the murkiness. He saw nothing.

He ventured to call in a low voice, but louder and louder, for the officers; but no reply came.

He heard the rumbling of the stage coming along at a quarter of a league off, like a thunder peal.