The Last Cavalier: Being the Adventures of Count Sainte-Hermine in the Age of Napoleon. Alexandre Dumas
as he was withdrawing—as if trying to convince himself that he was breaching no duty by yielding to the prisoner’s request, that he was doing so out of his sense of equity, not out of weakness—he said: ‘That’s only right. When you look at it, it’s only right!’
“‘What’s only right?’ the other guard asked.
“‘That the woman be allowed to take her sick daughter outside.’
“‘Of course,’ said the other. ‘They can walk from the Temple to the Place de la Révolution. We can escort them there.’
“The guard’s answer caused the queen a shiver, but she remained resolute: She would follow to the letter the instructions she had received.
“At nine thirty Santerre arrived. He was an excellent man, if a trifle brusque, a trifle brutal. He had been unjustly accused of ordering the terrible drumroll that interrupted the king’s speech on the scaffold, and he’d never got over it. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of getting on the wrong side of the Assembly and the Commune—and nearly lost his head.
“Santerre granted the permission requested, and one of the municipal guards returned to the queen’s room with the general’s favorable decision. ‘Thank you, monsieur,’ said the queen with the charming smile that had been the downfall of Barnave and Mirabeau.
“Then, turning toward the little dog that on its hind legs was jumping up and down behind her, she said, ‘Ah, Black, you should be happy too. Yes, we’re going to walk outside.’ Turning back to the guard, she asked, ‘So, we’ll be going out. At what time?’
“‘At ten o’clock. Is that not the time you yourself requested?’ The queen bowed, and the guard left.
“Alone, the three women looked at one another with anxiety, an anxiety mixed with hope and joy. Madame Royale threw herself into the queen’s arms. Madame Elisabeth walked over to her sister-in-law and reached out her hand. ‘Let us pray,’ said the queen. ‘But let us pray in such a way that no one will suspect we are praying.’
“At ten o’clock they heard the sound of weapons. ‘It’s the changing of the guard,’ said Madame Elisabeth.
“‘Then they’ll come get us,’ said Madame Royale.
“‘Courage,’ said the queen, growing as pale as her two companions.
“‘It is ten o’clock,’ shouted someone down below, ‘bring the prisoners down.’
“‘Here we are, citizen,’ the queen answered.
“The first door opened, and the three prisoners entered a dark corridor. In the semidarkness, they were able at least to hide their feelings.
“The little dog ran on before them, but when it got to the door of the room where its master had lived out his last days, it stopped abruptly and, whimpering, pushed its nose against the crack under the door. Its plaintive whimpers deepened into that painful moaning people call the death bark.
“The queen passed quickly by the door, but a few feet farther on she had to pause and lean against the wall. The two women drew in tightly behind her, and they waited, motionless, even after little Black caught up with them.
“‘Well!’ a voice cried out. ‘Is she coming down or not?’
“‘Here we are,’ said the queen with great effort, as she proceeded the rest of the way down.
“When she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, the drummer summoned the guard, not to honor her, but to demonstrate the armed force that made futile any attempt to escape. The heavy door opened slowly; its hinges squeaked.
“The three prisoners made their way quickly from the courtyard to the garden. Insulting graffiti and obscene figures drawn by soldiers in their spare time covered the courtyard walls, but the weather was magnificent, the sun not yet so hot as to be unbearable.
“The queen walked for about three quarters of an hour. Then, at ten minutes to eleven, she went to the canteen, where a woman named Mother Plumeau sold sausages, wine, and alcohol to the soldiers. The queen was already at the door, and just about to walk in and ask permission to sit down, when she noticed that Simon, the shoemaker and one of her most fervent enemies, was just finishing his breakfast at the table. So she decided to leave.
“But Black had already run in, and to no avail she called to the dog, who was sniffing at the trapdoor to the cellar where the widow Plumeau kept her food and drink. Insistently, the dog pushed its nose into the cracks around the trapdoor.
“Quaking, guessing what had attracted the dog’s attention, the queen called out sharply for the little dog to come back. But Black appeared not even to hear her, or if he did, he refused to obey. Instead, the dog began to growl. Then he was barking ferociously.
“A light came on suddenly in the shoemaker’s brain as to why the dog was so stubbornly refusing to obey its mistress. Up from the table in a flash, Simon ran to the door and called out: ‘To arms! Treason! To arms!’
“‘Black! Black!’ the queen called in desperation, but the dog, unheeding, barked only more furiously still.
“‘To arms!’ Simon continued shouting. ‘To arms! There are aristocrats in Citizen Plumeau’s cellar, they’ve come to save the queen. Treason! Treason!’
“‘To arms!’ the municipal guards shouted in return as they grabbed their guns and rushed toward the queen and her two companions. They were soon surrounded and led by the guardsmen back to the tower.
“Even at that, Black refused to leave or cease. The poor animal’s instinct had betrayed him. Still barking and scratching at the trapdoor, he was mistaking help for danger.
“A dozen national guardsmen entered the canteen. His eyes burning, Simon shouted, ‘There, under the trapdoor! I saw the trapdoor move, I’m sure.’
“‘Weapons ready!’ the guards shouted out. You could hear the sound of guns being loaded, while Simon continued shouting ‘There, right there!’
“The officer grabbed the ring on the trapdoor, but even with two of the strongest guards assisting him, the door wouldn’t budge.
“‘They’re holding the trapdoor down,’ shouted Simon. ‘Shoot through it; fire!’
“‘But what about my bottles?’ the widow Plumeau cried. ‘You’re going to break my bottles!’
“‘Stop your bawling, both of you!’ said the officer. ‘And you,’ he addressed the guards, ‘bring some axes and chop open the door.’
“His men obeyed, and the officer said, ‘Now, get ready, and fire into the trapdoor as soon as we open it.’
“They began breaking the door open with the ax, and once the opening was large enough, twenty rifle barrels were lowered toward it. Only there was no one to be seen. The officer lit a torch and tossed it into the cellar. Still, no one.
“‘Follow me!’ the officer ordered as he hurried down the stairway into the empty cellar.
“‘Forward!’ shouted the municipal guards, rushing after their leader.
“‘Ah, Widow Plumeau,’ Simon cried, shaking his fist at her, ‘so now you loan your cellar to aristocrats trying to free the queen!’
“But Simon unjustly accused the good woman. For someone had broken through the cellar wall from a tunnel three feet wide and five feet high that ran toward the Rue de la Corderie. On the tunnel floor many people had left their tracks.
“The officer set off quickly down the tunnel, but after only ten steps he encountered an iron grate and had to stop. ‘Stop!’ the officer called out to the soldiers hard on his heels. ‘We can go no farther. I want four men to stay here and shoot anyone who shows up. I am going to make my report. The aristocrats have attempted to free the queen.’
“That