The Royal Life Guard; or, the flight of the royal family.
Perhaps the officers were hiding in the woods which he explored along the skirts without meeting a soul.
He had no alternative but to wait.
In five minutes the carriage came up, and the heads of the royal couple were thrust out of the windows.
"Have you seen Count Charny?" both asked simultaneously.
"I have not, Sire," was the response: "and I judge that some hurt has met him in the chase of that confounded Drouet."
The Queen groaned.
"What can be done?" inquired the King who found that nobody knew the place.
"Sire," said the viscount, "all is silent and appears quiet. Please your Majesty, wait ten minutes. I will go into the town, and try to get news of Count Bouille or at least of the Choiseul horses."
He darted towards the houses.
The nearest had opened at the approach of the vehicles, and light was perceptible through the chink of the door.
The Queen got out, leant on Malden's arm and walked up to this dwelling: but the door closed at their drawing near. Malden had time to dash up and give it a shove which overpowered the resistance. The man who had attempted to shut it was in his fiftieth year; he wore a night gown and slippers.
It was not without astonishment that he was pushed into his own house by a gentleman who had a lady on his arm. He started when he cast a rapid glance at the latter.
"What do you want?" he challenged Malden.
"We are strangers to Varennes, and we beg you to point out the Stenay road."
"But if I give you the information, and it is known, I will be a ruined man."
"Whatever the risk, sir," said the Lifeguardsman, "it will be kindness to a lady who is in a dangerous position – "
"Yes, but this is a great lady – it is the Queen," he whispered to the sham courier.
The Queen pulled Malden back.
"Before going farther, let the King know that I am recognized," she said.
Malden took but a second to run this errand and he brought word that the King wanted to see this careful man.
He kicked off his slippers with a sigh, and went on tiptoe out to the vehicle.
"Your name, sir?" demanded the King.
"I am Major Prefontaine of the cavalry, and Knight of the St. Louis Order."
"In both capacities you have sworn fealty to me: it is doubly your duty therefore to help me in this quandary."
"Certainly: but will your Majesty please be quick about it lest I am seen," faltered the major.
"All the better if you are seen," interposed Malden; "you will never have a finer chance to do your duty."
Not appearing to be of this opinion, the major gave a groan. The Queen shook her shoulders with scorn and stamped with impatience.
The King waved his hand to appease her and said to the lukewarm royalist:
"Sir, did you hear by chance of soldiers waiting for a carriage to come through, and have you seen any hussars lately about?"
"They are on the other side of the town, Sire; the horses are at the Great Monarch inn and the soldiers probably in the barracks."
"I thank you, sir; nobody has seen you and you will probably have nothing happen you."
He gave his hand to the Queen to help her into the vehicle, and issued orders for the start to be made again.
But as the couriers shouted "To the Monarch Inn!" a shadowy horseman loomed up in the woods and darted crosswise on the road, shouting:
"Postboys, not a step farther! You are driving the fleeing King. In the name of the Nation, I bid ye stand!"
"The King," muttered the postillions, who had gathered up the reins.
Louis XVI. saw that it was a vital instant.
"Who are you, sir, to give orders here?" he demanded.
"A plain citizen, but I represent the law and I speak in the name of the Nation. Postillions, I order you a second time not to stir. You know me well: I am Jean Baptiste Drouet, son of the postmaster at St. Menehould."
"The scoundrel, it is he," shouted the two Lifeguardsmen, drawing their hunting-swords.
But before they could alight, the other had dashed away into the Lower Town streets.
"Oh, what has become of Charny?" murmured the Queen.
Fatality had ridden at the count's knee.
Dandoins' horse was a good racer but Drouet had twenty minute's start. Charny dug in the spurs, and the bounding horse blew steam from his nostrils as it darted off. Without knowing that he was pursued, Drouet tore along, but he rode an ordinary nag while the other was a thoroughbred.
The result was that at a league's end the pursuer gained a third. Thereupon the postmaster's son saw that he was chased and redoubled his efforts to keep beyond the hunter. At the end of the second league Charny saw that he had gained in the same proportion, while the other turned to watch him with more and more uneasiness.
Drouet had gone off in such haste that he had forgotten to arm himself. The young patriot did not dread death, but he feared being stopped in his mission of arresting the King, whereupon he would lose the opportunity of making his name famous.
He had still two leagues to go before reaching Clermont, but it was evident that he would be overtaken at the end of the first league, that is, the third, from his leaving St. Menehould.
As if to stimulate his ardor, he was sure that the royal carriage was in front of him.
He laid on the lash and drove in the spurs more cruelly.
It was half after nine and night fell.
He was but three quarters of a league from Clermont but Charny was only two hundred paces away.
Drouet knew Varennes was not a posting station and he surmised that the King would have to go through Verdun. He began to despair; before he caught up with the King he would be seized. He would have to give up the pursuit or turn to fight his pursuer and he was unarmed.
Suddenly, when Charny was not fifty paces from him, he met postillions returning with the unharnessed horses. Drouet recognized them as those who had ridden the royal horses.
"They took the Verdun Road, eh?" he called out as he forged past them.
"No, the Varennes Road," they shouted.
He roared with delight. He was saved and the King lost!
Instead of the long way he had a short cut to make. He knew all about Argonne Woods into which he flung himself: by cutting through, he would gain a quarter of an hour over the King, besides being shielded by the darkness under the trees.
Charny, who knew the ground almost as well as the young man, understood that he would escape him and he howled with rage.
"Stop, stop!" he shouted out to Drouet, as he at the same time urged his horse also on the short level separating the road from the woods.
But Drouet took good care not to reply: he bent down on his horse's neck, inciting him with whip and spur and voice. All he wanted was to reach the thicket – he would be safe there.
He could do it, but he had to run the gauntlet of Charny at ten paces. He seized one of the horse-pistols and levelled it.
"Stop!" he called out again, "or you are a dead man."
Drouet only leaned over the more and pressed on. The royalist pulled the trigger but the flint on the hammer only shot sparks from the pan: he furiously flung the weapon at the flyer, took out the other of the pair and plunging into the woods after him, shot again at the dark-form – but once more the hammer fell uselessly; neither pistol was loaded.
It was then he remembered that Dandoins had called out something to him which he had heard imperfectly.
"I made a mistake in the horse," he said, "and no doubt what he shouted was that the pistols were not charged. Never mind, I will catch this villain, and strangle him with my own hands if needs must."
He took up the pursuit of the shadow which he just descried in the obscurity. But he had hardly gone a hundred paces in the forest before his horse broke down in the ditch: he was thrown over its head; rising he pulled it up and got into the seat again but Drouet was out of sight.
Thus it was that he escaped Charny, and swept like a phantom over the road to bid the King's conductors to make not another step.
They obeyed, for he had conjured them in the name of the Nation, beginning to be more mighty than the King's.
Scarcely had he dived into the Lower Town and the sound of his horse lessened before they heard that of another coming nearer.
Isidore appeared by the same street as Drouet had taken.
His information agreed with that furnished by Major Prefontaine. The horses were beyond the town at the Monarch Hotel.
Lieutenant Rohrig had the hussars at the barracks.
But instead of filling them with joy by his news he found the party plunged into the deepest stupor. Prefontaine was wailing and the two Lifeguardsmen threatening someone unseen.
"Did not a rider go by you at a gallop?"
"Yes, Sire."
"The man was Drouet," said the King.
"Then my brother is dead," ejaculated Isidore with a deep pang at the heart.
The Queen uttered a shriek and buried her face in her hands.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE CAPTURE
Inexpressible prostration overpowered the fugitives, checked on the highway by a danger they could not measure.
"Sire," said Isidore, the first to shake it off; "dead or living, let us not think of our brother, but of your Majesty. There is not an instant to lose. These fellows must know the Monarch Hotel; so, gallop to the Grand Monarch!"
But the postillions did not stir.
"Did you not hear?" queried the young noble.
"Yes, sir, we heard – "
"Well, why do we not start?"
"Because Master Drouet forbade us."
"What? Drouet forbade you? when the King commands and Drouet forbids, do you obey a Drouet?"
"We obey the Nation."
"Then, gentlemen," went on Isidore, "there are moments when a human life is of no account. Pick out your man; I will settle this one. We will drive ourselves."
He grasped the nearest postillion by the collar and set the point of his short sword to his breast.
On seeing the three knives flash, the Queen screamed and cried:
"Mercy, gentlemen!"
She turned to the postboys:
"Friends, fifty gold pieces to share among you, and a pension of five hundred a-year if you save the King!"
Whether they were frightened by the young nobles' demonstration or snapped at the offer, the three shook up their horses and resumed the road.
Prefontaine sneaked into his house all of a tremble and barred himself in.
Isidore rode on in front to clear the way through the town and over the bridge to the Monarch House.
The vehicle rolled at full speed down the slope.
On arriving at a vaulted way leading to the bridge and passing under the Revenue Tower, one of the doors was seen closed. They got it open but two or three wagons were in the way.
"Lend me a hand, gentlemen," cried Isidore, dismounting.
Just then they heard the bells boom and a drum beat. Drouet was hard at work!
"The scamp! if ever I lay hold of him – " growled Isidore, grinding his teeth. By an incredible effort he dragged one of the carts aside while Malden and Valory drew off the other. They tugged at the last as the coach thundered under the vault.
Suddenly through the uprights of the tilt, they saw several musket barrels thrust upon the cart.
"Not a step or you are dead men!" shouted a voice.
"Gentlemen," interposed the King, looking out of the window, "do not try to force your way through – I order you."
The two officers and Isidore fell back a step.
"What do they mean to do?" asked the King.
At the same time a shriek of fright sounded from within the coach. Besides the men who barred the way, two or three had slipped up to the conveyance and shoved their gun barrels under the windows. One was pointed at the Queen's breast: Isidore saw this; he darted up, and pushed the gun aside by grasping the barrel.
"Fire, fire," roared several voices.
One of the men obeyed but luckily his gun missed fire.
Isidore raised his arm to stab him but the Queen stopped his hand.
"Oh, in heaven's name, let me charge this rabble," said Isidore, enraged.
"No, sheathe your sword, do you hear me?"
He did not obey her by half; instead of sheathing his sword he let it fall on the ground.
"If I only get hold of Drouet," he snarled.
"I leave you him to wreck your vengeance on," said the Queen, in an undertone and squeezing his arm with strange force.
"In short, gentlemen," said the King, "what do you want?"
"We want to see your passports," returned several voices.
"So you may," he replied. "Get the town authorities and we will show them."
"You are making too much fuss over it," said the fellow who had missed fire with his gun and now levelled it at the King.
But the two Guardsmen leaped upon him, and dragged him down; in the scuffle the gun went off and the bullet did no harm in the crowd.
"Who fired?" demanded a voice.
"Help," called out the one whom the officers were beating.
Five or six armed men rushed to his rescue. The two Lifeguardsmen whipped out their short swords and prepared to use them. The King and the Queen made useless efforts to stop both parties: the contest was beginning fierce, terrible and deadly.
But two men plunged into the struggle, distinguishable by a tricolored scarf and military uniform; one was Sausse the County Attorney and the other National Guard Commandant Hannonet.
They brought twenty muskets, which gleamed in the torchlight.
The King comprehended that these officials were a guarantee if not assistance.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I am ready to entrust myself and party to you, but put a stop to these rough fellow's brutality."
"Ground your arms," cried Hannonet.
The men obeyed but growlingly.
"Excuse me, sir," said the attorney, "but the story is about that the King is in flight and it is our duty to make sure if it is a fact."
"Make sure?" retorted Isidore. "If this carriage really conveyed his Majesty you ought to be at his feet: if it is but a private individual by what right do you stay him?"
"Sir, I am addressing you," went on Sausse, to the King. "Will you be good enough to answer me?"
"Sire, gain time," whispered Isidore: "Damas and his dragoons are somewhere near and will doubtless ride up in a trice."
The King thought this right and replied to Sausse:
"I suppose you will let us go on if our passes are correct?"
"Of course," was the reply.
"Then, Baroness," said the Monarch to Lady Tourzel, "be good enough to find the passports and give them to the gentleman."
The old lady understood what the speaker meant by saying "find!" so she went to seeking in the pockets where it was not likely to be.
"Nonsense," said one of the crowd, "don't you see that they have not got any passport."
The voice was fretful and full of menace too.
"Excuse me, sir," said the Queen, "my lady the baroness has the paper but not knowing that it would be called for, she does not know where she put it."
The bystanders began to hoot, showing that they were not dupes of the trick.
"There is a plainer way," said Sausse: "postillions, drive on to my store, where the ladies and gentlemen can go in while the matter is cleared up. Go ahead, boys! Soldiers of the National Guard, escort the carriage."
This invitation was too much like an order to be dallied with.
Besides resistance would probably not have succeeded for the bells continued to ring and the drum to beat so that the crowd was considerably augmented, as the carriage moved on.
"Oh, Colonel Damas," muttered the King, "if you will only strike in before we are put within this accursed house!"
The Queen said nothing for she had to stifle her sobs as she thought of Charny, and restrained her tears.
Damas? he had managed to break out of Clermont with three officers and twice as many troopers but the rest had fraternized with the people.
Sausse was a grocer as well as attorney, and his grocery had a parlor behind the store where he meant to lodge the visitors.
His wife, half-dressed, came from upstairs as the Queen crossed the sill, with the King next, Lady Elizabeth and Lady Tourzel following.
More than a hundred persons guarded the coach, and stopped before the store which was in a little square.
"If the lady has found the pass yet," observed Sausse, who had shown the way in, "I will take it to the Town Council and see if it is correct."
As the passport which Charny had got from Baron Zannone, and given to the Queen, was in order, the King made a sign that Lady Tourzel was to hand it over. She drew the precious paper from her pocket and let Sausse have it. He charged his wife to do the honor of his house while he went to the town-house.
It was a lively meeting, for Drouet was there to fan the flames. The silence of curiosity fell as the attorney entered with the document. All knew that he harbored the party. The mayor pronounced the pass perfectly good.
"It must be good for there is the royal signature," he said.
A dozen hands were held out for it but Drouet snatched it up.
"But has it got the signature of the Assembly?" he demanded.
It was signed by a member of the Committee though not for the president.
"This is not the question," said the young patriot, "these travelers are not Baroness von Korff, a Russian lady, with her steward, her governess and her children, but the King and the Queen, the Prince and the Princess Royal and Lady Elizabeth, a court lady, and their guardsmen – the Royal Family in short. Will you or will you not let the Royal Family go out of the kingdom?"
This question was properly put, but it was too heavy for the town governors of a third-rate town to handle.
As their deliberation promised to take up some time, Sausse went home to see how his guests were faring.
They had refused to lay aside their wraps or sit down as this concession seemed to delay their approaching departure, which they took for granted.
All their faculties were concentrated on the master of the house who might be expected to bring the council's decision. When he arrived the King went to meet him.
"Well, what about the passport?" he asked, with anxiety he vainly strove to conceal.
"It causes a grave debate in the council," replied Sausse.
"Why? is its validity doubted by any chance?" proceeded the King.
"No; but it is doubted that it is really in the hands of Lady Korff, and the rumor spreads that it covers the Royal Family."
Louis hesitated an instant, but then, making up his mind, he said:
"Well, yes; I am the King. You see the Queen and the children; I entreat you to deal with them with the respect the French have always shown their sovereigns."
The street door had remained open to the staring multitude; the words were heard without. Unhappily, though they were uttered with a kind of dignity, the speaker did not carry out the idea in his bob wig, grey coat, and plain stockings and shoes.
How could anybody see the ruler of the realm in this travesty?
The Queen felt the flush come to her eyes at the poor impression made on the mob.
"Let us accept Madam Sausse's hospitality," she hastened to say, "and go upstairs."
Meanwhile the news was carried to the town house and the tumult redoubled over the town.
How was it this did not attract the soldiers in waiting?
At about nine in the evening, Count Jules Bouille – not his brother Louis whom we have seen in locksmith's dress – and Lieut. Raigecourt, with their hussars, were at the Monarch inn door, when they heard a carriage coming. But it was the cab containing the Queen's hairdresser. He was very frightened.
He revealed his personality.
"The King got out of Paris last evening," he said: "but it does not look as if he could keep on; I have warned Colonel Damas who has called in his outposts; the dragoon regiment mutinied; at Clermont there was a riot – I have had great trouble to get through. I have the Queen's diamonds and my brother's hat and coat, and you must give me a horse to help me on the road."
"Master Leonard," said Bouille, who wanted to set the hairdresser down a peg, "the horses here are for the King's service and nobody else can use them."
"But as I tell you that there is little likelihood of the King coming along – "
"But still he may, and he would hold me to task for letting you have them."
"What, do you imagine that the King would blame you for giving me his horses when it is to help me out of a fix?"
The young noble could not help smiling. Leonard was comic in the big hat and misfit coat, and he was glad to get rid of him by begging the landlord to find a horse for the cab.
Bouille and his brother-officer went through the town and saw nothing on the farther side; they began to believe that the King, eight or ten hours belated, would never come. It was eleven when they returned to the inn. They had sent out an orderly before this, who had reported to Damas, as we have seen.
They threw themselves, dressed, on the bed to wait till midnight.
At half past twelve they were aroused by the tocsin, the drum and the shouting. Thrusting their heads out of the window, they saw the town in confusion racing towards the town hall. Many armed men ran in the same direction with all sorts of weapons.
The officers went to the stables to get the horses out so that they would be ready for the carriage if it crossed the town. They had their own chargers ready and kept by the King's relay, on which sat the postboys.
Soon they learnt, amid the shouts and menaces that the royal party had been stopped.
They argued that they had better ride over to Stenay where the little army corps commanded by Bouille was waiting. They could arrive in two hours.
Abandoning the relay, they galloped off, so that one of the main forces foiled the King at the critical moment!
During this time, Choiseul had been pushing on but he lost three quarters of an hour by threading a wood, the guide going wrong by accident or design. This was the very time while the King was compelled to alight and go into Sausse's.
At half after twelve, while the two young officers were riding off by the other road, Choiseul presented himself at the gate, coming by the cross-road.
"Who goes there?" was challenged at the bridge where National guards were posted.
"France – Lauzun Hussars," was the count's reply.
"You cannot pass!" returned the sentry, who called up the guard to arms.
At the instant the darkness was streaked with torchlight, and the cavalry could see masses of armed men and the musket-barrels shine.
Not knowing what had happened, Choiseul parleyed and said that he wanted to be put in communication with the officers of the garrison.
But while he was talking he noticed that trees were felled to make a breastwork and that two field pieces were trained on his forty men. As the gunner finished his aiming, the hussar's provost-marshal's squad arrived, unhorsed; they had been surprised and disarmed in the barracks and only knew that the King had been arrested. They were ignorant what had become of their comrades.
As they were concluding these thin explanations, Choiseul saw a troop of horse advance in the gloom and heard the bridge guards challenge:
"Who goes there?"
"The Provence Dragoons!"
A national Guard fired off his gun:
"It is Damas with his cavalry," whispered the count to an officer.
Without waiting for more, he shook off the two soldiers who were clinging to his skirts and suggesting that his duty was to obey the town authorities and know nothing beyond. He commanded his men to go at the trot, and took the defenders so well by surprise that he cut through, and rushed the streets, swarming with people.
On approaching Sausse's store, he saw the royal carriage, without the horses, and a numerous guard before the mean-looking house in the petty square.
Not to have a collision with the townsfolk, the count went straight to the military barracks, which he knew.
As he came out, two men stopped him and bade him appear before the town council; still having his troopers within call, he sent them off, saying that he would pay the council a visit when he found time, and he ordered the sentry to allow no one entrance.
Inquiring of the stablemen, he learnt that the hussars, not knowing what had become of their leaders, had scattered about the streets where the inhabitants had sympathized with them and treated them to drink. He went back into barracks to count what he might rely upon, say, forty men, as tired as their horses which had travelled more than twenty leagues that day.
