The proud beauty who, albeit so young, had been some months a widow, was passing on her way to an adjacent cell, but she paused for an instant to kiss young Edmond on the brow, and to address some words of remonstrance to Balthazar touching his treatment of the little King of the Gallery, as Thierry was called.
“May our holy mother the guillotine hug him as she did our other king, Capet!” said Balthazar. “The little reptile taunted me, because his father has escaped from Amiens and reached England; and he refused, moreover, to carry the pretty message I gave him from the public accuser, and addressed to you, citoyenne.”
The boy’s eyes filled with tears. They sprang, like the twin fountains of Benasji, from a divided source. Joy sent them gushing at the thought of his father’s escape; and sorrow paid its tribute at the peril which was then threatening his good friend, Madame de Charry.
That lady loosened her bracelet, readjusted it on her marble arm, and asked, as she did so, what the public accuser could possibly have to say to her.
“Ah! ah!” roared Balthazar, the brute; “he invites you to honour the tribunal with your presence tonight; and the faucheuse with the broad knife will send you an invitation to another party tomorrow.”
“Be it so,” said the young beauty, without apparent emotion. “In the meantime, vive le Roi! And now, my little King Edmond, let us leave citizen Balthazar to his reflections, and come with me to the soirée of Madame de Bohun.”
“They will cut off your head!” cried Balthazar, with a candour meant for cruelty.
“They!” said the lady, with great sweetness; “not if they are gallant gentlemen. They will be the very canaille of butchers indeed, if they strike off so pretty a head as mine: n’est-ce pas, mon roi?” said she to Edmond.
But the boy’s heart was too full to answer, for he loved the charming Stoic of Orléans. His courage, however, was not buried beneath his emotion; for as he entered the cell of the Countess de Bohun, he turned and gave the huge Balthazar a kick on the right shin, which made the tall savage turn pale. The giant vowed vengeance at a better opportunity, and he limped away to his kennel, cursing the authorities for keeping alive a Royalist child at the expense of the Republic, and for the particular annoyance of their own citoyen officiel.
It was a singular world that, which Balthazar held in durance within his stronghold of Orléans. It was an aristocratic, pleasure-seeking world: within one confined gallery all the pomps and vanities of the earth,—all the weaknesses of nature,—all the vices and some of the virtues of humanity reigned triumphant. The sword of Damocles hung over every head, but the symbol was taken for the oriflamme of pleasure. The fashions and pursuits of the old world were not forgotten within the prison walls. The rich arranged their domiciles with as much care and anxiety as though the boudoirs they fitted up in their dungeons were taken for a fixed term of years, instead of an uncertain tenure of minutes. Fashion had its rigid laws, Etiquette was enshrined, and Ennui denounced. The duties, dresses, and pleasures of the day were distinctly defined; and the duties generally consisted in getting ready the dresses for the better enjoyment of the pleasures. The separation of castes was rigorously observed, and common misfortune was not permitted to level ranks; the noble captive might be courteous to the commoner in captivity, but he would not associate with him. The wife of a noble would not visit the cell which contained the spouse of a professional man. During the day visits were not only regularly made between parties of the same degree, but were punctually returned; else discord arose thereat. Contests at chess, trials at cards, games at forfeits, shuttlecock, and ball, were matters of daily occurrence during the days, weeks, or months that preceded condemnation or enlargement. The high-caste nobility got up pic-nic dinners amongst themselves. Those who were of the very top cream of even that high caste found tea for large parties. Music was no rarity; singing awoke the echoes of every cell. In short, the habits, customs, manners, morals, frivolities, fashions, and virtues of the upper classes were openly practised. The greatest care was exhibited in matters of toilet. As republican simplicity grew more republican and more simple without, aristocratic fashions waxed more royal and more sumptuous within. A head after the fashion of Brutus, was never seen upon noble shoulders. Among the ladies there was a mania for flowers, feathers, and many-coloured ribbons. Some wore their own hair, and some wore wigs, but in either case the hair was curled and powdered, and the fair wearer was rouged, Spanish-whitened (where blanc d’Espagne was to be procured), pencilled, and plastered into all the beauty that could be achieved by burying her own beneath poisonous paint, black-lead, and adhesive mouches.