The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. II (of II). Lever Charles James
from her, “that these acts of the king, having no support from his real friends, are weak stimulants to evoke deeds of daring and courage.”
“They are unworthy supporters of a Crown who only defend what they approve of. This is but Democracy at best, and smacks of the policy which has little to lose and everything to gain by times of trouble.”
“And yet, madam, such cannot be the case here; at least, it is assuredly not so in the instance of him who is now speaking with Miss Henderson.” And he pointed to a man who, holding the bridle of his horse on his arm, walked slowly at Kate’s side in the street before the door.
“And who is he?” asked she, eagerly.
“The greatest banker in Paris, madam, – one of the richest capitalists of Europe, – ready to resign all his fortune in the struggle against a rule which he foresees intended to bring back the days of a worn-out, effete monarchy, rather than a system which shall invigorate the nation, and enrich it by the arts of commerce and trade.”
“But his name – who is he?” asked she, more impatiently.
“Charles Lagrange, madam.”
“I have heard the name before. I have seen it somewhere lately,” said she, trying to remember where and how.
“You could scarcely have paid your respects at Neuilly, madam, without seeing him. He was, besides, the favored guest at Madame de Mirecourt’s.”
“You would not imply, sir, that the Duchess condescended to any sympathy with this party?”
“More than half the Court, madam, are against the Crown; I will not say, however, that they are, on that account, for the people.”
“There! she is making a sign to us to follow her,” said Martin, pointing towards Kate, who, still conversing with her companion, motioned to the others to come up.
“It is from that quarter we receive our orders,” said Lady Dorothea, sneeringly, as she prepared to follow.
“What has she to do with it?” exclaimed the Captain. “To look at her, one would say she was deep in the whole business.”
A second gesture, more urgent than before, now summoned the party to make haste.
Through the Place, crowded as it was by an armed and excited multitude, way was rapidly made for the little party who now issued from the door of the hotel. Kate Henderson walked in front, with Massingbred at her side talking eagerly, and by his gestures seeming as though endeavoring to extenuate or explain away something in his conduct; next came Lady Dorothea, supported between her husband and her son, and while walking slowly and with faltering steps, still carrying her head proudly erect, and gazing on the stern faces around her with looks of haughty contempt. After them were a numerous retinue of servants, with such effects as they had got hurriedly together, – a terror-struck set, scarcely able to crawl along from fear.
As they drew nigh the barricade, some men proceeded to remove a heavy wagon which adjoined a house, and by the speed and activity of their movements, urged on as they were by the orders of one in command, it might be seen that the operation demanded promptitude.
“We are scarcely safe in this,” cried the officer. “See! they are making signs to us from the windows, – the troops are coming. If you pass out now, you will be between two fires.”
“There is yet time,” said Kate, eagerly. “Our presence in the street, too, will delay them, and give you some minutes to prepare. And as for ourselves, we shall gain one of the side-streets easily enough.”
“Tie your handkerchief to your cane, sir,” said the officer to Massingbred.
“My flag is ready,” said Jack, gayly; “I only hope they may respect it.”
“Now – now!” cried Kate, with eagerness, and beckoning to Lady Dorothea to hasten, “the passage is free, and not a second to be lost!”
“Are you not coming with us?” whispered Martin to her, as they passed out.
“Yes; I’ll follow. But,” added she, in a lower tone, “were the choice given me, it is here I ‘d take my stand.”
She looked full at Massingbred as she spoke, and, bending down his head, he said, “Had it been your place, it were mine also!”
“Quick, – quick, my Lady,” said Kate. “They must close up the passage at once. They are expecting an attack.” And so saying, she motioned rapidly to Martin to move on.
“The woman is a fiend,” said Lady Dorothea; “see how her eyes sparkle, and mark the wild exultation of her features.”
“Adieu, sir, – adieu!” said Kate, waving her hand to one who seemed the chief of the party. “All my wishes are with you. Were I a man, my hand should guarantee my heart.”
“Come – come back!” cried the officer. “You are too late. There comes the head of the column.”
“No, never – never!” exclamed Lady Dorothea, haughtily; “protection from such as these is worse than any death.”
“Give me the flag, then,” cried Kate, snatching it from Massingbred’s hand, and hastening on before the others. And now the heavy wagon had fallen back to its place, and a serried file of muskets peeped over it.
“Where’s Massingbred?” asked the Captain, eagerly.
“Yonder, – where he ought to be!” exclaimed Kate, proudly, pointing to the barricade, upon which, now, Jack was standing conspicuously, a musket on his arm.
The troops in front were not the head of a column, but the advanced guard of a force evidently at some distance off, and instead of advancing on the barricade, they drew up and halted in triple file across the street. Their attitude of silent, stern defiance – for it was such – evoked a wild burst of popular fury, and epithets of abuse and insult were heaped upon them from windows and parapets.
“They are the famous Twenty-Second of the Line,” said the Captain, “who forced the Pont-Neuf yesterday and drove the mob before them.”
“It is fortunate for us that we fall into such hands,” said Lady Dorothea, waving her handkerchief as she advanced. But Kate had already approached the line, and now halted at a command from the officer. While she endeavored to explain how and why they were there, the cries and menaces of the populace grew louder and wilder. The officer, a very young subaltern, seemed confused and flurried; his eyes turned constantly towards the street from which they had advanced, and he seemed anxiously expecting the arrival of the regiment.
“I cannot give you a convoy, Mademoiselle,” he said; “I. scarcely know if I have the right to let you pass. We may be attacked at any moment; for aught I can tell, you may be in the interests of the insurgents – ”
“We are cut off, Lieutenant,” cried a sergeant, running up at the moment. “They have thrown up a barrier behind us, and it is armed already.”
“Lay down your arms, then,” said Kate, “and do not sacrifice your brave fellows in a hopeless straggle.”
“Listen not to her, young man, but give heed to your honor and your loyalty,” cried Lady Dorothea. “Is it against such an enemy as this French soldiers fear to advance?”
“Forward!” cried the officer, waving his sword above his head. “Let us carry the barricade!” And a wild yell of defiance from the windows repeated the speech in derision.
“You are going to certain death!” cried Kate, throwing herself before him. “Let me make terms for you, and they shall not bring dishonor on you.”
“Here comes the regiment!” called out the sergeant. “They have forced the barricade.” And the quick tramp of a column, as they came at a run, now shook the street.
“Remember your cause and your King, sir,” cried Lady Dorothea to the officer.
“Bethink you of your country, – of France, – and of Liberty!” said Kate, as she grasped his arm.
“Stand