A Madeira Party

by S. Weir Mitchell

"This quieted her for a little while, and we sat still in the darkness, which seemed to grow deeper. I think it must have been an hour before any one spoke, but at times I could hear my mother sob. At last the baby woke up again and made doleful cries, so that the Duke said—and his was the first voice to break the long silence: 'Is there a way to make a light? It may quiet him.'

"My mother said, 'Yes'; and after groping about we found flint and steel, and presently, with a little care, there was a bit of flame and a candle lit. I declare to you, it made things look the more dismal. Later it caused us all to feel a strange and causeless elation. My mother, who was a resolute woman, began to walk about, and the baby, having been given milk, grew quiet. We boys were set to work arranging the mattresses and blankets and all the material my father had by degrees made ready for this hour of need. There was food enough for a stay of many days, and as to wine, there was of that an abundance, and also a barrel of good water.

"After our brief task was over we two little fellows sat most of that long first day beside each other, rarely opening our lips. My mother lay on a mattress, trying to keep the babe quiet, for he used his lungs dangerously well. The Duke walked to and fro restlessly, and by and by carefully put his pistols in order and laid them on a cask. After some hours he became more tranquil and even gay, and kept us all sustained by his gentle goodness and sweet temper, laughing at our fears, recalling to my mother what hopeful words my father had used, and at last almost making her sure that no one would hurt so good a man.

"When the Duke looked at his jeweled watch, which had been used to number more pleasant hours, he told us it was night, and nine o'clock. My mother said prayers, and the candle having been put out, we all lay down and slept as we could. I must have slept well, for it was nine in the morning when I awakened, and I, for one, had to think a little to recover my orientation.

"In this dismal fashion we passed two days. Then, on the third, about noon, as we had heard no noise above us, the Duke and my mother thought we might look out to see if any one were about. This, as I shall tell you, proved a sad business, and had like to have caused our ruin. But of this later.

"The Duke went up the stair, and with difficulty lifted the trapdoor so as to see a little. As no one was in sight, he heaved off the staves my father had cast down, and at last got himself out into the upper cellar. Then he went thence into the plant-house and garden, and at last boldly entered the house, in which was no one, as it had been closed, and, as we learned long after, the seal of the Republic put on the door. In a half hour the Duke returned and took me back into the house, whence we carried a number of things much needed in our cave, such as more candles, and a blanket or two, although this was chiefly for precaution, since the cellar was never cold, nor, as I think of it, damp. We hurried back, and as we did so I asked the Duke about my father. But neither he nor my mother could tell why he had been arrested, as he had managed to keep in good relations with some of the Jacobins. It was quite common to hear of the head of a house being arrested, and then, within a day or two, of the women being likewise hurried to the common fate which awaited all suspects. The Duke seemed to think my father might have had some such fear for us, and desired to put us all in safety, although how in the end this could be of use did not seem very clear.

"When we all got back to the cave and had shut the trap, I sat a long while much oppressed in my small mind; but so, too, were our elders, I fear. As to this my Duke here, he cried a little, but not so that any one knew but myself.

"In this way four miserable days and nights went by, and, thus imprisoned, we knew not what to do. We had waited long, hopeful of my father's return, and, mon Dieu! he came not at all. The Duke was for going forth again at night and some way escaping alone, fearing that to be caught in our company might more surely bring us into trouble when at last we should be forced, soon or late, to come out to the light. Meanwhile, this blackness, for it was not mere darkness, became more terrible than I can make any one comprehend. As I remember, there were long talks of what to do, with vain endings, and, in between, great, awful silences."

"I used to get frightened then," said the Duke, looking up from the fire. "One seemed so absolutely alone. I used to resist for a time, and at last put out a hand to take hold of your mother's skirt for company. Once or twice the poor baby screamed so loud that he had to be kept quiet by a little eau de vie, lest some one coming overhead should hear; for, indeed, in this vault his cries seemed like shouts, and one heard better because one could not see. Do you remember that, Des Illes? But I used to wish that baby would cry all day."

"Do I remember? Yes, indeed. Those were not days or things to be easily forgotten. But to go on. The fifth day, when we were all of us becoming distracted, a thing took place which settled some of our doubts. It may have been about six o'clock in the evening when we heard faint noises in the upper cellar. The Duke was first, I think, to notice them; then a footfall passed over the trap, and this was only too plain. The Duke caught my arm and said quietly, 'Come here,' and so saying, drew me to the foot of the stone stairs. This was about, as you know, ten feet high. I could see nothing, but I heard his step as he went up. Then he said, 'Here is a pistol. Be ready to hand it to me—so—so; do not let the powder fall from the pan. I have one pistol. If there are two men and you are quick, these will suffice. If there are three men, we are lost.' It was dark as I stood, for we never used candles save when we ate, and to quiet the baby. I reflected quickly that, as the Duke could not have put back the staves, they who were searching must easily find the trap; and so it was, for just as he said softly, 'Keep still every one,' the trap was lifted a little and a ray of blinding candle-light shot through the narrow space. For a moment I could see nothing because of the glare. Then the trap was carefully raised still higher, and we saw the figure of a kneeling man sustaining the door with his left hand. In the other he held a lantern and a canvas bag. Luckily for us all, the Duke was a person of calm courage. He had seen that the stranger was not an agent of police. 'If you move, you are dead,' he cried, and the muzzle of a pistol on the man's breast made him for the time motionless, and perhaps quickened his wits, for he exclaimed: 'Great heavens! I am not a municipal. God forbid. I am only a thief. Be merciful, sir. I entered the house by a window, and now the officers have come in by a door and I shall be guillotined as an aristocrat.'