The CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

Mt Benger Mail, Volume V, Issue 261, 13 December 1884, Page 6

The CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

CHAPTER Tfl.—Coxxnvxß. clasping her hands in an attitude of prayer, "messieurs, in the uame oi heaven, tare pity on us both."' "Then speak." said Santerre; "state the names, avow the project of your accomplices; explain what they wished to intimate by the knots made in the poc-ket-handkerchief brought with your linen by Tison's daughter, and the meaning of those tied in the handkerchief found in your pocket, and ou these conI will leave' you your child." A look from Mine. Elizabeth seemed to implore the queen to submit to this dreadful sacrifice. • Then, quietly brushing from her eye a tear which sparkled like a diamond : "Adieu, my son," cried she. "never forget your father who is in heaven, or your mother who will soon join you there, and never omit to repeat morning and evening the prayer I have taught you. Adieu, my son." , She gave him a last kiss; then rising . calm and inflexible : "I know nothing, messieurs," said she; "do as you please." Bnt the queen must have required more than the usual amount of fortitude contained in the heart of a woman, and, above all. of a mother. She fell back fainting upon a chair, while they carried away th» child, who, with fast L flowing teprs, held out his arms, but uttered not a single word or cry. The door closed behind the municipals who carried away the child, and the three women remained alone. There was for a moment the deep silence of despair, interrupted only by occasional sobs. The queen first broke silence. "My daughter," said she, "that letter?" "I burned it, as you desired me, ma more." "Without reading it ?'" "Without reading it." "Adieu, then, to the last ray of hope—divine bope," murmured Mme. Elizabeth. "You are right, my sister, you are ritrht: it is almost beyond endurance." Then, turning toward her daughter. "But you. at least, saw the handwriting, Marie?" "Yes, Tna mere, for a moment." •The queen rose, went to the door to make sure she was not observed, then, drawing a pin from her hair, approached the wall, and from a chink drew out a small paper folded like a letter, and, showing it to Mme. Royale : "Collect your thoughts before you reply, my child." said she; "was the writins the same as this ?" "Yes. yes. ma mere," cried the princess: "I recognize it." "God be praised, then !" the queen, falling with fervor on her knees. "If he cotdd write since this morning, he is safe. Thanks, mon Dien. thanks! So noble a friend deserves Thy miraculous preservation." "Of whom do you speak, ma mere ?" demanded Mme. Royale. "Who is this friend ? Tell me his name, that I may recommend him to God in my prayers." "You are right, my child: never forget it. This nunc, for it is of a gentleman replete with honor and; courajre. one not. devoted to us throueh ambition, for he has only revealed himself pi nee our misfortunes. He has never seen the Oueen of France, or. rather, the Queen of France has never seen him. and he rows his life to her defence. Perhaps he will be recompensed as all virtue is recompensed, by a dreadful death. But if he dies-Oh f" T shall still think of him in heaven.-he is rolled—" The queen looked uneasily around, then lowering her voice : "H> is called the Chevalier de Maison Rouge. Pray for him." CHAPTER VII. THE OATH OF THE GAMESTER. The attempted abduction, so contestable was it, because it had had no ona to commein • tue extfUTiou ol it, and excited the autrer of horn 11 and the interest of others. That which likewise corroborated ahis evcu almost to a certainty, was that the Committee for General Security learned that three weeks or a month before a number ol emigrants had entered France from different parts of the frontier. It was evident these people who thus risked their lives did uot do so without design, aud this design was, in all probability, to co-operate in carrying off the royal family. 1 Already, upon the proposition of the Conventionalist Asselim. th n terrible decree had been promulgated which condemned to death all emigrants convicted of having returned to France, nil Frenchmen convicted of having intended to emigrate, particularly all convicted of having assisted in their flight, or in their return, either a female or male emigrant, and, lastly, all citizens convicted of having afforded shelter to an emigrant. With this dreadful law commenced the "Reign of Terror." All that was wanting was the law for suspected persons. The Chevalier de Maison Rouge was an enemy far too active and audacious for his return to Paris, and hie apparition in the temple, not to call forth the gravest measures. More severe inspections than had previously taken place were made in the number of suspected houses, but, with the exception of some female emigrants who allowed themselves to be taken, and some old men whose few remaining, days they did not trouble themselves to dispute with the executioner, their researches produced no other result. The sections, as may be imagined, were* after this event much occupied for several days, and consequently the secretary of the section Lepelletier, one of the most influential in Paris, had little time to think of his unknown fair one. At first, as he had resolved on quitting La Rue Yieilie St. Jacques, he had tried to forget her, but. as his friend Louis had observed to him : "Alas ! endeavqring to forget But makes us recollect the more." Maurice, however, neither said nor confessed anything. He buried in his heart all the dtails of that aoventure which he had been able to conceal from the scrutiny of his frienl. But he who knew Maurice to be of a joyous and hilarious nature, and now saw him constantly sad and thoughtful, seeking solitude, doubted not, $0 use his own expression, that the rogue Cupid had passed that way. It is remarkable that, during its eighteen centuries of monarchy. France had had few years so mythological as the year of our Lord 1793. In the meantime the chevalier was not taken, and he was no more spoken of. The widowed queen, cruelly robbed of her child, contented herself by weeping, in company with her sister and daughter. The youmr dauphin was consigned to the care of "Simon the Bhoemaker." this poor little martyr who, in the short space of three y»ars. ■was reunited to Lis father. There was a moment's calm. The Montagnard volcano rested before devouring the Girondins. Maurice felt the' weight of this calm, as the heaviness of the atmosphere is felt in stormy weather, and not knowing how to dispose of his leisure, abandoned himself entirely to the ardor of a sentiment, which, if not actually love itself, bordered closely upon it. He reread his letter, again kissed his beautiful sapphire ring, aid resolved, notwithstanding his oath, to make one more attempt, promising himself this should indeed be't'be la6t. The young man had first thought hewould go to the section of the Jardin des Plantes, and there makt Inquiry from the secretary ,his colleague. gut tb fiai idea (and wo may aSd,

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which he still retained) that the beauty ful unknown was mixed up in some political plot, etill restrained him, as the thought that any indiscretion on hie part might be the means of sending this lovely woman to La Place de la Revolution, and his head to the block, caused lite blood to curdle and freeze in his reins. He thercofre determined on Beeking this adventure alone, an 1 without any information. His plan, besides, was very pimple. The catalogue of names inscribed on each door would certainly afford him some clew, and theu, by interrogating the porter, he might be able to nolve the mystery. Iu his capacity of secretary of La Hue Leptflletier he possessed full and entire right to make all inquiries. Besides, I Maurice, ignorant of the name of the unknown, was able to judge of it by analogy. It was impossible £0 lovely a creature should not possess a name in harmony with her form, some name appertaining to 6ylph, fairy or angel, since her arrival on earth must have been hailed as that of a superior and supernatural being. This name would most infallibly guide him. Maurice then dressed himself in a blouse of a dark brown cloth, adorned his head with the "bonnet rouge," worn on great occasions, and set out on his voyage of discovery alone. He had in his hand one of those'knotted cudgels called "une Constitution," which, wielded by his vigorous hand, was powerful as the club of Hercules,, and in'his pocket he placed his commission as secrrtary of the section Lepelletier. These were at once his physical security and his moral guarantee. He prepared himself to review afresh La Rue St. Victor, La Rue St. Jacques reading by light of the declining day all those names, inscribed in a hand more or less practiced, upon the panels of every door. Maurice had reached the hundredth house, and. consequently read the hundredth list,' and nothing had yet occurred to induce him, to imagine that he was in the least degree upon the trail of 'the unknown, when a good-natured shoemaker, noticing the anxiety and impatience depicted on the young man's countenance, came out with his strap of leather and his punch, and looking at Maurice over his spectacles "Do you wish any information respecting the tenants of this house, citisen?'" said he; "if so, I shall be happy to give it to you." "Thanks, citizen," stammered Maurice; "I am looking for the name of a iriend." "Tell me the name, citizen: I know everybody in this quarter. Where does this friend live ?'" "He lives, I think, in the Old line Jacques, but 1 fear he has removed.'' "But how is he named. I must know that." Maurice, taken thus unawares, hesitated for a moment, then pronounced the first name that presented itself to his memory. "Reno," said he. "And what trade ?" Maurice was surrounded by tanneries. "A working tanner," 6aid he. "In that case," said a burgess, who stopped and regarded Maurice with a certain good nature not totally exempt from distrust, "it is necessary to address yourself to his master." "That is true," said .the doorkeeper. "it is-quite right, the masters know the names of these workmen; there is the Citizen ( Dixmer, who is manager of a tannery, has more than fifty workmen in his yard; he will perhaps tell you." Maurice turned around and saw a burgess of commanding figur°. with a mild countenance, the richness of whose attire denoted opulence. "Only, as the citizen porter observes, it is necesenry I should know the family name." "I have told you—Bene." "Rene is his baptismal name: it is the family nam** I require. All my workmen sign their family name." "Ma foi !" said Maurice, growing impatient under this species of interrogation, "the family name 7 1 do not know it." "What." said the burgess, with a smile, in which Maurice thought he uiscerneo more irony than he %s ished to appear, "what, not know the surname of your friend ?" "No." "In that case, it ii not probable you, will find him;" and the burgess, gravely bowing to Maurice,'walked a short distance and entered a bouse in the Old Kne St. .Jacques. "The fact is, that if you do not know his surname—" said the porter. "Weil, I do not know it," said Mau« rice, who would not have "been norry to find some occasion to vent his ill-temper, and was at th* moment much inclined to seek a quarrel. "What have yon to say to that ?" "Nothing, citizen; nothing at all; only since you do not know the uame of your friend, it is, a* Citizen Dixmer said, more than probable you will not find him." And the citizen- porter went into Li:i lodge, shrugging his shoulder*. Maurice felt a great inclination to thra*h this porter, but he was an old man. and his infirmities saved him. Besides, the day was drawing to a close, and he had only a few moments of daylight left. He availed himself of it by returning to the first street, then to the second, examined every door, searched in every nook, looked under every palisade, climbed each wall, threw a glance into the interior of every gateway, looked through the j keyholes, knocked at some deserted ware- J houses without receiving any reply, till ] at length nearly two hours had elapsed in this useless investigation. Nine o'clock struck; no more noise was

DO YOU WISH ANY INFORMATION. neara, no movement seen in this deserted quarter, whose life seemed to have re-< tired with the light of day. Maurice, in despair, made a retrograde movement, when all at once, at the winding of « narrow alley he discerned a light burning. He immediately ventured into tho dark passage without remarking that at the moment %ven where he had thrust himself, a curious head, which for the last quarter of an hour, from the midst of a clump of trees rising from under the wall, had followed ail his movements, and then disappeared suddenly behind this wal.l. A short time after this head had disappeared, thrpe men came out from a small door in this same wall, went into the alley, where Maurice had preceded thi-m. while a fourth, for greater security, locked the door of entrance into this alley. At the end of thi6 alley Maurice discovered a court; it was on the opposite side of this court the light was bum* ifi£. He knocked at the door of a pooj

; nsrnt was extinguished. He redoubled • hi-- efforts, but no one answered to hie • call: he saw they we determined to make no reply, so. comprehending that it was only a useless wa*te of time, he crossed the court and rOeatered the! alley. At this moment the door of the house turned softly on its hinges, three men came out,, and then the sound of at whistle was heard. Maurice turned round, and saw three shadows within a short distance. Ho saw in the darkness also, his eves having become accustomed to this obpeurity. tho reflection of three glittering blades. He knew he was hemmed in. He would have brandished his club, but the alley was so narrow that it touched the wall on either side. At the same moment a violent blow on the head stunned him. This j was an unforaeen assault made upon him j by the four men who entered through the, j door in the wall. Seven men at the same 1 time threw themselves upon Man rice.and 1 notwithstanding a desperate resistance, ' overpowered him and succeeded in binding his hands and bandaging his eyes. Maurice had not even uttered a cry or ! called for aid. Strength and true courj age suffer by thorns"! vcs. and are tena- ' rious of tho ] lP ]p 0 | a , 6 tranger. Besides. 1 Maurice had often heard that no one* • would enter this deserted quarter. Mau- : rice was thus, as we have said, thrown I down and bound, but had not uttered a ; single complaint. He had reflected as ; to wh'it would follow -that as they had j bandaged his eyes they did not inteud j to kill him directly. At Maurice's age I respite becomes hope. He recovered his j presence of mind and listened patiently. "Who are you?" demanded a voice still breathle.-s from the late strugerle. "I am a man they are murdering, - ' replied Maurice. "What is more, you are a dead man if you speak so loud, or call for assistance, or even utter the least cry." "If I had wished to do so I need not have waited for the present time." "Are you ready to answer my questions ?"' "Let me hear them first; I shall then 1 see whether I ought to reply." ' "Who sent you here ?"' "No one." "You came, th°n. of your own accord?" "Yes." "You lie." Maurice made a desperate effort to disengage his hands, but it was in vain. "I never lie," said he. "In either case, whether you came of your own accord or were sent, you are a spy."' "And yon are cowards !" "We cowards?" "You are seven or eight against one man bound, and you insult that man. \ Cowards ! Cowards ! cowards !" This violence on the part of Maurice. I instead of enraging his adversaries, ap- ! pea red to produce a contrary effect. It ! was even a proof that the young man ! was not what they deemed him; o.true J spy would have trembled and begged for mercy. "There is nothing insulting in that," I paid a voice, milder yet firmer than any that had previously been heard; "in the j times we live in. one may be a spy without being a dishonest man, only it is at the risk of one's life." . "If that is your opinion, you are welcome to question me. I will answer von faithfully." "What brought you into this quarter ?" "To search here for a woman." An incredulous murmur followed this i assertion. The breeze increased and became a hurricane. "Von lie," said the same voice; "it is no woman —there is no woman in this quarter to follow. Avon- your intentions or you die." "Well, then," said Maurice, "you surely would not kill me for the mere 'picaslire of so doing, unless you are true brigands." And Maurice made a secoud effort, more strenuous than the first, to disengage his arms from the cord '"inch secured them. It was useless, and at that moment he experienced a sharp pain in his breast which made him flinch. "Oh, you feel that?"' said one of the men. "There are eight more similar to this with which you will claim acquaintance.'" "Kill me, then." sni-1 Maurice, with "it will at least be finished at once." / "Who are you ?" 6aid the mild but firm voice. "Do vo" wi>b to know my name ?'t "Yes, your name." "I am Maurice Lindey." "What !'" cried a voice. "Maurice rj~dey, the revolu--the patriot; Maurice Lindey, the secretary of tb*> section Lepelletier ? ' Th°se words were pronounced with.so much warmth that Maurice felt they were decisive. This 1 a pJy was calculated to decide his fate. Maurice was incapable of f«ar: he drew himself np like a tru° Spartan and replied in a firm voice: "Yes. Maurice Lindey; *ec, Maurice Lindey. secretary to the section Lejielletier; yes, Maurice Linde--. the patriot, the revolutionist, the Jacobin; Maurice Lindey, in short, whose happiest day will be that, on which he dies tor liberty.'* This reply was received with the silence of death. Maurice presented his breast, expecting every moment the sword, of which he had only felt the point, would be plunged into his heart. "Is this true?"' said a voice full of emotion; "let us see, young man, that you He not." , "Feel in my pocket," paid Maurice, "and you will there find my commission. Look upon my breast, and if not effaced by my blood, you will see my initials, an M and L. embroidered on my shirt." Maurice felt himself immediately raised by strong arms and carried to some distance. He first heard one door open,then a second, which he knew was narrower than the first, from the trouble the men found in carrying him through. The murmuring and whispering continued. "I am lost," said Maurice to himself; "they will fasten a stone around my neck and cast ton into the Briere." In an instant he felt the men who bore him were mounting some steps. A warmer air fanned his face, and he was 'placed upon a seat. He heard a door doublelocked and the sound of departing steps. He fancied he wa« left alone. He listened with as much attention as was possible in a man whose life hung upon a word., and thought he again heard the voice wTrich had already struck upon his ear say, with a mixture of decision and mildness : "We will deliberate." CHAPTER VIII. GENEVIEVE. 'A quarter of an hour passed away; it appeareed an age to Maurice. And what mure natural ? Young, handsome and vigorous, highly beloved and esteemed by a hundred devoted friends, with whom he sometimes dreamed of accomplishing great things, he felt himself suddenly, without preparation, liable to lose his life—the victim of a base ambuscade. He knew no one was shut in the tham-« ber, but was he watched? He again exerted rfll his strength to break his bonds, till his iron muscles swelled, aud the cords entered his flesh; but this, like all his former efforts, was useless. It was the more terrible his hands being tied behind. He was unable to draw up his bandage. If he were only able to see, he might perhaps be able to escape. However, ue these various attempts were made without opposition, and hearing no one stirring, he concluded he was quite alone. His feet pressed upon something soft and heavy; it might be gravel or perhaps soft clay. An acrid, pungent smell announced the presence of vegetable matter. Maurice fancied he wa3 in a greenhouse, or some place very like it. He took a step or two, hit the wall, turned, and, groping with his bauds, felt some garden tools. He uttered an exclamation of joy. With unparalleled exertion he began to examiue these tools, one after another. His flight now became, a question of time. If chance or Providence granted him five minutes, and if among these tools he found a sharp instrument, he was saved. He found a 6pade. Prom the way in which Maurice was bound it required a great struggle to raise the ipade a sufficient height for his uuxnojfc 10 US, CC'MI.NVEB.