THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 354, 4 April 1910, Page 6

THE STORYTELLER.

FOR THE SAKE OF A LIFE At the Cafe <le la Regenee Robespierro was -playing his quiet daily game of dies*. Without, the Reign of Terror held Paris in its grap. Men felt their .s'ouls afraid, while friend mistrusted friend, and brother, brother; none knowing but that he might be denounced by some secret foe, and then—a short shrift, an introduction to La Guillotine, and Paris would have one citizen less to go mad in her and add to his miseries .by his crimes. For Merlin of Douai's '"Law of the Suspect" was no law, but condemnation, and a. speedy ending. Yet Robespierre could leave the 'iery life of the boulevard behind him, and retiring to his accustomed corner in the cafe forget the vivid strenuous combat of reality in the mimic warfare of the chess-board.

His opponent rose and left. Robes pierre sat thoughtfully at the board till roused by the entrance of the bustling landlord. ''Citizen," said he, "there is a youth below who would be worthy even of your skill. The habitues of the downstair* room have all bowed before him. No one can iplay a game which can survive his attack for five minutes."

Robespierre looked up interested. '•'What's that?" said he, eagerly. '•''Tis as I say, citizen. A chessplayer who is a marvel. And so young. 'Tis a mere boy." "Send him up," said Robespierre briefly; and the host retreated ejaculating. A moment later the door opened; and, looking up curiously, Robespierre was astonished at the figure which ho saw in the doorway. "A youth; a mere boy," the host had said, but this seemed a boy barely in his teens, so slight was his figure, so free from all trace of hair on the face. Robespierre turned contemptuously in his chair. "I cannot play with children," he muttered. The youth advanced towards the table. ':^4^i*sC;;;A?

"The host said, citizen, that you would honor me by playing a game with Die," he said with a how. Robespierre looked at him again; then, with a half smile, he answered. "The host mistook; I hare no time to play with children." The "-boy's face flushed. "I am older than I look, citizen," he said, "aaid downstairs (no one complained of my lack of skill." "Ah, well!" said Robespierre. "Sit down, boy. Faute de nrieux!" he mut tered to himself.

The youth took his seat, and with the assured air of an accustomed player drew the chessboard towards him. "Have you a choice of men, citizen?" said he. "Black," answered Robespierre brief

ly. The game which followed was like none which Robespierre had ever played. Before five moves were ended his opponent had him at his mercy. In vain he thought of new combinations, in-vain altered his plan of attack. In ten minutes the youth had won hit first game.

Exasperated, Robespierre sat up sharply. "Shall we try another, citizen?" said he.

"As you please," replied the strange youth. Another game followed, aid then another, with varying fortune. Robespierre rose to his feet, his fact was flushed with excitement, his usual imperturbability rudely disturbed;, the youth, liow«vor. sit 'ouietlv, nothing but the shinir% of his eyes betokened his interest in the game.

"T have had enough." said Robes- ] pierre, "and must he goinp. Boy. you | are surely leagued with the devil, for, such playing T never saw before!" j As lie spoke he reached for his hat.; and proceeded towards the door, but on ■' the threshold was stopped-by a qwteX \ word from the youth. !

"You forget the stakes, citizen." said he. "Stakes!" said Robespierre; "we »ettled none." "\ T o." said the youth, "but they should be the hiaher. seeing that von scorned nn' appearance so much as beforehand to think them not worth the lettling." Robespierre's face broke into a smile.

"You are- shrewd, citizen." said lie. "and a soorl observer. Well, the conditions; being granted, what would you propose as a stake?"

The youth, who had been sitting gazing on the ground, now raised his eye* and fixed them on Robespierre: then he rose and came towards him.

"The stakes I propose," said he slowly, "are little to you and much to me: the more likely you."will be, T hope, to grant them." "Well?" said Robespierre, impatiently. "My only claim, citizen, is that you will give me your autograph." '•'Pshaw!" replied Robespierre, '"that it easily done. Save," he added, as ho glanced round the room, "that I see no paper. We can call the host and send for some."

"Here is ink," said the boy, "and a pen, and for paper 1 have some in my pocket." While speaking he had placed on the table the pen and ink which had been standing on the mantelpiece. ,and now drew from his pocket ionicthing which looked like a folded letter: this he now handed to Robespierre, who had again seated himself. Robespierre took the paper, and hardly looking at it, hastily scrawled his name, then handed it back to the youth, who at once placed it in his pocket.

"A thousand thanks, citizen," said he, "I shall like to remember the name of the best chess-player I ever met." "Jean Jacques Gospre." "Ah. the first name* of our great Rousseau!" "I hope to follow in hii footstep, citizen!"

"The better for you," said Robespierre. "France wants citizens of that calibre! From which province come you!" "From Normandy, near Caen." While speaking, the boy though making great efforts to control himself —was obviously anxious to be off. This Robespierre did not appear to notice, but leaning back indolently in his chair, went on with idle questioning. •'Your face seems familiar to me," said he. The boy started, but recovering blatantly, bowed as he replied. "You do me too nrach honor, citizen. I have been in Paris, working as others for the cause, but can hardly hop'.' that von could there have remarked me."

"No." said Robespierre reflectively, "no, not in Paris. Caen, in Normandy? No. Rouen, in Normandy? Yes! The sack of the Chateau de St. Juste! You were dressed differently then, Mademoiselle C'ecile de la Motte!"

While speaking, Robespierre advanced towards the boy. who stood for a moment as if paralysed with terror, then started hastily for the door, only, however, to be intercepted before reaching it.

"An aristocrat!" said Robespierre, towering over him. "A woman, disgnised. and masquerading as a youth in a cafe in Paris! What is the meaning of this. Mademoiselle?"

Mademoiselle de la Motte stood slirinkingly before him. She answered never a word.

"Where is that paper, Mademoiselle, which I signed for you so innocently?" went on Robespierre. "It was a near thing that you did not get unsuspected away with it! Give it me." But at this Cecille de la Motte forgot, her terror in her love, and rallied to play her part. "You do not bear me ill-will, citizen." she cried, "because my birth was against me? Who can help that aecideit? An aristocrat! Many are born so who do not, as T, love liberty before aJI. And for this' dress—a woman can do naught in Pari?, and besides is hardily I felt I should be of more service to the Republic dressed as a bov."

Robespierre looked at her gloonrh. "You do not expect me to believe this pretty explanation, Mademoiselle?" said he sarcastically. "Why not!"

"Why not? Because I happen to know of the betrothal between Mademoiselle Cecile de la Motte and Mon.lieur le Comte de St. Juste, who now lies in prison awaiting death."

"A betrothal of convenience." "A betrothal of love . . . which irhieh 'bring* me baok to my first enquiry. I shall be glad to be favored with a sight of that paper the back of which I was tricked into signing." "Ah, sir!" cried Cecile, '-forgive the trick in consideration of the misery which caused it. There is the paper." As she spoke she handed him the letter he had signed, and opening it ha found it to be an order, properly made out, for the release of Honore de St. Juste from the prison of the Conciergerie. t Robespierre lo t okod gloomily from the paper to the shrinking girl before him. "You have rendered yourself liable to arrest, Mademoiselle," said he at lait "as a Yraitor to the Republic. I should do my duty, and send you to join your lover."

"Take me instead of my lover lam quite willing to -die." Robespierre smiled grimly. "Xo," said he. "the Republic doei not do business in that way. ffuxtice mini, conic before all. You ar» liable, but in consideration of your skill in chess, and the temptation you were under, also o* cause I think you will do little ill to France, I forgive you the trick Things shall remain as tfley are. Go in yev.t —but St. Juste must pay the pena'ty of his crime."

Ceeile looked up, desperate. • | "What is the crime?" she said. "T ; swear to you I have asked—demmded , —I can find no accusation against him . save the sole one that he is an arH-u ; crat. Re merciful! Give me his lit"! j We will leave France, and mv bles<iu£; and prayers shall follow you always. I Be merciful!" Her voice died «in.- into sobs; Rihes-j pievre stirred uneav.ly, and looked a.viy j from her. Compact oi good and tvii, I as are all mankind, hj? had no love of j destruction for its own sake, and could j he haTe seen him Way to do ; t ?RV.ly would have granted hev request. But I there were others to reckon with. Ma- j rat. should he hear of his tampering! with the order of things, would be likely I to stir up the Jacobins, and demand an 1 explanation. Robespierre did not feel hU own head so firmly fixed on his shoulders as to be willing to run that, risk. He went up to the weeping girl. "Mademoiselle," he said gently, "be-, lieve me or not, but your courage, your j fidelity moves me—also you are an adorable chess player! Could I see my way to doing it safely I would help vou. hut I am powerless." | •'•But your signature would release him!" '■Yes, it would release him, but would prohahlv land me in his place. Wait a moment. Let—me—think! Marat is the man! Marat hoodwinked, and the deed is done. But how to hoodwink Marat? He who can scent an arisocrat a league off!" Ceeile. strengthened by this safly, looked up reanimated, watching his face hreathlessly. '•'Marat lias no weakness for chess." went on Robespierre with a grim smile. "He has no bowels of compassion. So--1 thing moves him hut a lust for Wood. I You can wring a life from him in no way j hut by promising two deaths, and then ' Re will try to cheat you of your bar- ; gain! Any trick is permissible against I such a man as that."

Robespierre s'poke slowly, and with meaning. Cecile looked at liim bewildered. "Any trick!" she echoed. '■' Any trick," repeated Eobespierre.

"Say you can obtain Marat's signature —forge Marat's signature —what care I! If he discover that a prisoner has escaped, and on enquiry is confronted by his own signature, there will be an end of my gentleman's interference. It will even, properly used, be a weapon, against him," he added to himself. "But," cried C'ecile, "I have never seen Marat's signature. How can I copy it? Heaven knows I would try, would run any risk to obtain even a chance of Honore's release."

"Such a thing may be procured," said Robespierre, slowly. Then aacred. impressively, "You understand, Mademoisele, that what I am offering to do for you is unconstitutional in the extreme; that should it be discovered all who are in any way connected with it would undoubtedly be put to death. Think well before you undertake the task. Have you, first, the skill to copy the signature, then the courage to produce it boldly at the- prison, and claim your lover in such a manner as to rouse no suspicion? Unless you can do all this it would be a thousand times better to leave it entirely unattempted. "I can do it," said C'ecile, simply. "1 believe you can," said Robespierre. "Then here is your copy." He took, as he spoke, a letter from his pocket, and carefuly detaching the signature from it, after blotting out with ink the writin" which appeared on the back, gave it to Cccile.

"Now, Mademoiselle." said he, "the less I see of you from this moment the better for the*safety of both, but 1 nnut have this signature back again to see it properly destroyed. Bring it to my public office in your present dress tomorrow- afternoon about 4 o'clock; you will pass as a citizen seeing me on business. Adieu."

Cccile Vized his hand and kissed it fervently.

"Monsieur, I have no words in which to thank you," she said, and passed from the room.

Robespierre stood in the centre of the room curiously surveying the hand •which she had kissed.

"Now there i* a woman," he said, "who can lead men whither she will, and the essence of her powc' : ? Hint she doe« not know it, ~«. ;.'£ ,: .'-il.;-. ?. _.'

The frowning prison of the Concierfterie had never frowned more gloomily than when, the next evening at 8 o'clock, Cecile found herself in the courtyard. She had chosen this hour as the least likely to be open to suspicion; darkness would be gathering, and her attire less likely to attract attention. Als'o she intended they should leave Paris under cover of the night, and by the next morning be well on their way to the nearest seaport, where she hoped to obtain a passport for England. That afternoon she had returned Marat's signature to Robespierre, and had watched while he burnt it; now, with her copy concealed in her bosom, she stood trembling at the gate of the prison. Within could be heard the ribald jests and drunken laughter of the gaolers as tney caroused in the outer lodge, and it needed all her courage to enable Cecile to knock at the door with a firm touch, as one having business which would brook no delay.

A silence followed the knock; then steps were heard along the passage and the door opened. Maitre la Gigotte, the head gaoler, the biggest ruffian of the lot. stood on the threshold surlily regarding her. "An order from Citizen Marat." said Ceeile boldly.

"Marat!" said la Gigotte. his manner ■oftoning almost perceptibly; but as he read the order his scowl deepened.

"A release!" lie grumbled, "net like Marat. Some kin of yours, gamin?" "Mine?" cried Ceeile'. "No. Fine tlmt a citizen should be suspected of relationship with iirist.oi-v.it* because he bears a paper from Citizen Marat. How should I suspect what was within it?" Ceeile had determined to play the part of simple messenger, and to wait for her lover's release without, thus obviating the danger that he might, show recognition of her within the prison.

"Ah, well!" growled la Gigotte. still regarding the order, "I suppose it is right." "What is it? What's the row?" cried a hoarse voice from the guard-room. "Row!" thundered hi Gigotte. "What is that to you, Sereson? Am I not head gaoler? Can T not release a prisoner on order of Citizen Marat?" Ceeile saw to her alarm that the gaoler •was not only brutal, but. in the quarrelsome stage of drunkenness. Soeesan, the other man, lurched to the door.

"Release an aristocrat?" cried he. "Sever. A has les aritocrats!"

"I have a good mind . . ." muttered la Gigotte, fingering the paper as if the temptation to tear it up were strongly noon him. Goaded to action by sheer alarm Ceeile found her voice.

"Ah, well, gentlemen, " said sn<\ "What c;n-e T? Settle yon that with Citizen Marat!" Tiie name had not lost its power. "Marat! Ah!" said la Gigotte.

"Marat!" echoed Seces.in. and promptly vanished again into the guardroom, while la'Gigotte unhooked an enormous bunch of key* from behind the door, and Ceeile seized the opportunity to make her escape into the street. Ten minutes afterwards the prison door opened, and thrust out into the night, bewildered by these sudden happenings, TTonore de St. Juste stood in the street—free. Hardly had he gone ten paces when Ceeile touched him on the arm. and with finger on lips drew him into a side street. "OeciTc!"

"Ah! Ceeile," whispered she in an swer. "Come quickly, love!"

Tn the dark of the next nisrht a vessel sailed out of a little fishing harbor near Calais, and on its deck stood two who had brought their lives out of the shani'bles, and were willing to wait in a foreign land till happier days should dawn for France.