Then they blindfolded him, and two of the men placed themselves one on each side of him, and each took an arm to guide him; thus they led him from the room, and along the narrow passage, the jailer going in advance to show the way, and taking the same route as on St. Just's arrival.
Presently, by the change in the sounds above him, and the freshness of the atmosphere, St. Just knew that he was in the open air; in another minute he heard the prison gate clang to behind him. Then he was guided into a carriage, which was quickly driven away.
He was scarcely seated, when a voice muttered in a loud whisper in his ear, "Make no rash effort to escape, and do not speak, or attempt to remove your bandage, or you will suffer for it."
At the same time, to lend significance to the speaker's words, something cold and hard was pressed against the hearer's temple. St. Just knew it for the muzzle of a pistol, and, for a moment, shivered. But only for a moment; it needed little wit to know that, for the present at any rate, his life was safe. For all that, he deemed it prudent to obey the injunctions of his companion; so sat motionless and silent. He tried at first to follow in his mind the turns the carriage took, but, blindfold as he was, he found it hopeless, so gave it up, resigning himself with such patience as he could command to whatever was to follow. But his mind was in a fever of inquiry. Was he being conveyed to Halima's house, or to some place of safety at her instance; or were his captors taking him to some other prison, where the discipline was harsher, and the prisoners had less chance of making their escape?
The carriage creaked and rumbled on, with frequent jolts, for the roads, at all times, at that period, bad, were now, by the mingled action of frost and slush, a succession of alternate holes and hillocks. But, at last, when it seemed to St. Just that they had been traveling for hours, the carriage halted, and he was bidden to descend. Then he was again taken by the arm and guided up a narrow staircase. Arrived at the top, his conductor whispered a few words to some one there. A door was opened, and he was led into a room and halted. Then the same voice that had addressed him in the carriage spoke again.
"You are at your journey's end, and your bandage will now be removed. Light, you see, like everything else, comes to him who waits." He laughed pleasantly.
When the bandage had been removed, St. Just found himself in a moderate-sized apartment, whose walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books. He was standing before an open hearth, in which, burned a cheerful fire of wood, whose flames diffused a ruddy glow throughout the room, and a genial warmth that was more than grateful to a man who had been enduring for a week the chill, damp air of a prison cell. On one side of the room were two long windows, now closed with shutters and hung with dark red curtains. A large oil lamp, its brilliance tempered by a deep green shade, was burning on a table in the center of the room. On the side that faced the fire was a pair of folding doors, now closed. These details St. Just took in unconsciously, for what fixed his glance, immediately that his bandage was removed, was the figure of a man who was a stranger to him. He was standing by the fire and partially supporting himself on a stick. An elderly man, thin in figure, somewhat below the average height, and of shrivelled aspect. His face was long and lean and absolutely colorless; only redeemed from lifelessness by the piercing eyes, which were ever shifting restlessly, as though trying to find an entrance into the weak places of an opponent. He was dressed from head to foot in black.
Hard by St. Just there stood another man, whose green uniform with red facings proclaimed him to be an officer of Chasseurs. He had been St. Just's companion in his drive, and he it was who had removed the handkerchief from his eyes, for he still held it in his hand.
The elder man fixed his keen glance upon St. Just for several moments, without speaking. Then suddenly he addressed him in a high-pitched voice.
"Well Mons. St. Just, what have you to say for yourself for mixing in plots against the First Consul?"