THE END OF THE TERROR
Surrounded by Henriot's mounted guards, the tumbrils lumbered slowly to the Place de la Révolution. There a large crowd had assembled to witness the daily tribute to the guillotine.
"You shall not be disappointed, my patriots!" cried Henriot.
They answered him with a cheer. The crowd here was in sympathy with him, and he felt grimly cheerful.
"My friends, you will cheer again when you learn that one hour ago Robespierre was set free by me. The convention is trembling. The Commune triumphs."
Again the crowd cheered.
Henriot rode up to the guillotine.
"Sanson," he cried out to the executioner, "here is your daily allowance. We have kept you waiting, but you can now use dispatch."
The occupants in the tumbrils had seen their last hope of deliverance vanish in the Rue Vaugirard. They were fully prepared for death. One after another they mounted the fatal scaffold and were led to the guillotine.
Some went bravely forward to meet their fate. Others almost fainted and were nearly dead from fear by the time they reached the hands of Sanson.
La Liberté came forward with a firm step. As she did so, the crowd set up a deafening shout. It was a shout of genuine astonishment at the sight of this well-known figure, though mingled with it were cries of satisfaction from those who had been jealous of her popularity. Some thought it was a new escapade on her part, and they applauded it all the louder because of its daring nature.
Even the red-handed Sanson opened his huge bull's-mouth with surprise as she appeared before him.
"Bon jour, Sanson," said she airily; "you did not look for me to-day, I imagine. Do not touch me," she exclaimed as he stretched out his large hand towards her. "I have sent too many along this road, not to know the way myself, alone." Then walking down until she stood under the very shadow of the knife she looked out over the sea of faces.
The mighty yell was repeated.
The pallor of approaching death was on her face, but unflinchingly she met the gaze of thousands, while with a toss of her chestnut curls she surveyed them proudly, taking the shouts as a tribute to herself.
Suddenly her face became animated and the color rushed back to her cheeks.
"Well done, my compatriot!" she exclaimed aloud; she no longer saw the crowd at her feet, but stood transfixed, her gaze on the further corner of the square.
There Robert Tournay, at the head of some of his own men, charged upon Henriot's troops. Steel clashed upon steel, and Tournay's men pressed on.
"Bravely struck, my compatriot. Well parried, my compatriot. That was worthy of my brave colonel. One little moment, Sanson," she pleaded as the burly executioner caught her by the arm.
"You have had twice the allotted time already," he objected; "you are keeping the others waiting."
"One more look, Sanson, just one! Ah, well done, my brave."
"En avant," said the ruthless Sanson.
"Good-by, compatriot," murmured La Liberté, a tear glistening in her eye. The knife descended, and La Liberté was no more.
"Another!" said the insatiable executioner, extending his huge hands towards the cart.
St. Hilaire looked into Madame d'Arlincourt's face. Their eyes met full.
"Madame," he said, "in such a case as this you will pardon me if I precede you," and stepping in front of her he walked quietly up the scaffold.
Meantime Colonel Tournay, with Captain Dessarts at his shoulder and a company of his own troops behind him, had dashed out of a side street into the Place de la Révolution.
Tournay, with the ends of the blood-stained kerchief flapping on his forehead, and the sword wrested from the gendarme waving in his hand, urged his men forward.
Commandant Henriot, his forces augmented by a company of civic guards, charged upon them. The commandant's men outnumbered those led by the colonel, two to one, but in the shock that followed the tried veterans held together like a granite wall, and broke through Henriot's troops, hurling them in disorder to the right and left of the square.
Tournay saw the white-clad figure of La Liberté disappear under the glittering knife. He saw St. Hilaire standing on the scaffold with head turned toward Madame d'Arlincourt.
"Soldiers, on to the guillotine!" cried the colonel, dashing forward at full speed.
The populace, who, between the blood of the executions and the battle going on in the square, were mad with excitement, pressed forward, and circled about the scaffold, angrily menacing the approaching troops, who seemed about to put an end to their entertainment.
"Sweep them away!" cried Tournay ruthlessly, his eye still upon the scaffold where St. Hilaire stood. "Use the bayonet!"
Meanwhile Henriot, by desperate efforts, had rallied his own troopers at the other side of the square, while his civic guards, having no further stomach for the fray, had fled incontinently.
"Colonel, they are about to attack us in the rear," said Dessarts warningly.
Tournay wheeled his men about as the enemy rode at them for a second time. Henriot, with his brandy-swollen face purple with excitement, was reeling drunk in his saddle, yet he plunged forward with the desperate courage of a baited bull.
"Down with the traitor!" he yelled. "The Commune must triumph; Robespierre is free, and the Republic lives."
With the answering cry of "Long live the Republic!" Tournay's men braced themselves firmly together.
"Fire!" commanded the colonel. A deadly volley poured into the commandant's forces.
"Charge!"
Henriot's troops were dashed back, scattered in all directions, and their drunken commander, putting spurs to his horse, fled cursing from the scene.
The populace, now thoroughly dismayed and frightened, parted on all sides before the soldiers. Tournay ran to the guillotine. He leaped up the steps of the scaffold.
"In the name of the convention, halt!" he cried.
"I know nothing about the convention," protested Sanson, laying his hand upon St. Hilaire's shoulder. "This man is sent to me to be guillotined—and"—
Tournay threw the executioner from the platform to the ground below, and cutting the cords that bound St. Hilaire set his arms at liberty.
Captain Dessarts formed his men around the scaffold to prevent interference on the part of the crowd. St. Hilaire took Tournay by the hand.
"You have come in time, colonel, to do me a great service," he said. "Now give me a weapon, and let me take part in any further fight."
Tournay gave him a pistol. St. Hilaire went to the side of Madame d'Arlincourt. The crowd began again to surge around the soldiers threateningly.
"Let the guillotine go on!" "Let the executioner finish his work!" were the cries from all sides.
"Citizens," yelled Sanson, who had risen to his feet and was now rubbing his bruised sides, "you are a thousand. They are only a few soldiers. Take back the prisoners and I will execute them."
"Make ready—aim," was Colonel Tournay's quick command. The muskets clicked; the crowd fell back. "Fix bayonets, forward march." And through the press Colonel Tournay bore those whom he had saved from the guillotine.
No organized attempt was made to attack them, and the party proceeded to the Rue d'Arcis unmolested. Here Tournay turned to his captain.
"Dessarts, leave a file of men here and take the others back to their barracks for repose, but hold them subject to immediate orders."
"Very good, my colonel," and the soldiers were marched away.
Madame d'Arlincourt showed signs of succumbing to the effects of the terrible strain to which she had been subjected, and St. Hilaire, supporting her gently, hastened to the door of his former servant.
In another instant they were all inside.
They passed through the corridor and entered the wainscoted salon. As they did so the bookcase above moved gently. Edmé entered through the secret door and stood for an instant surrounded by a frame of dusty books, looking down upon them.
In her plain gown of homespun, with her skin browned by exposure to the air, and cheeks which had the glow of health in them despite the hardship she had undergone, Edmé de Rochefort was a different picture from that of the girl of five years before. Yet it was not the present Edmé that suffered by comparison.
With a cry of joy she hastened down the stairs. "I have been told the glorious news," she cried. "Have you returned to tell me it is all true? But you are wounded!" she exclaimed in the same breath, with a cry of alarm.
"'Tis nothing," Tournay replied, folding her in his arms. "I do not even feel it."
"Is all the danger over?" she asked anxiously, looking up in his face.
"Not all over," he answered caressingly. "The result hangs in the balance, but we shall win, we shall surely win. At present we have need of a little food and repose. St. Hilaire and myself must go out again shortly. Has Gaillard come with a message? I expected him from the convention," he continued, addressing Beaurepaire.
"He has not returned," was the answer.
Edmé turned to assist Agatha in caring for Madame d'Arlincourt, while old Beaurepaire busied himself in setting forth some food upon the table.
At this moment Gaillard burst into the room, followed by Father Ambrose.
"I bring glorious news!" cried the actor excitedly. "Robespierre, at one time released by the aid of Henriot, has been rearrested. He has attempted suicide. Henriot, St. Just, Couthon, are also arrested. They will all be sent to the guillotine. The convention triumphs. The Commune is defeated. The Reign of Terror is at an end."
The news was received with a great shout of joy. "Listen," called out Gaillard, "and you will learn what the people think."
The booming of guns and the ringing of bells throughout the city verified his statement.
"We have won!" said Colonel Tournay.
"Let us celebrate the victory by this feast that Beaurepaire has provided!" exclaimed St. Hilaire.
Tournay drew Edmé into the recess of one of the large windows. The sound of a whole city rejoicing at the abolition of the Reign of Terror filled the air. In the room at the back the voices of Gaillard and St. Hilaire were heard in joyful conversation.
For a moment they stood in silence. She looked into his eyes and read the question there.
