Edme thrust the card mechanically into her pocket, and ran to fetch a gla.s.s of water.
"You are very good to me," said she faintly as soon as she could speak.
"I turned you away," a slight flush coming to her cheek. "Believe me, it was not my heart that spoke when I told you that I could not let you have the lodging; I was merely obeying the commands of the owner, who allows me my bare rent for my services. He is very strict, but at the risk of incurring his displeasure, I shall refuse to let you go after this kindness."
"Do not fear; do not trouble about that," replied Mademoiselle de Rochefort quietly, "but tell me more about your work in the tribunal. Is it that which has worn you so?"
"No, it is not so wearing, only I am far from strong, and sometimes I get so fatigued. My brother, who is a turnkey in the conciergerie, obtained this employment for me, as it was thought I could do it; but I fear I shall have to give it up."
Edme smoothed the counterpane. "Do not worry," she said gently, "but go to sleep now. We will remain here until you are better."
The citizeness smiled faintly, her lips moved as if in apology; then she fell into a quiet sleep.
Agatha turned to her mistress.
"Go into the next room, mademoiselle, and rest there. I will watch over this sick woman."
"I cannot rest, dear Agatha; I have something else to do, but you must stay here until I return."
"Where are you going?"
"To the Luxembourg."
"Not now, mademoiselle; wait--I will accompany you."
"No, Agatha, I prefer to go alone; you must remain here until I come back," commanded Edme.
Agatha knew it would be useless for her to remonstrate further, so she resumed her place by the bedside, and with the greatest anxiety saw her mistress leave the house, and, pa.s.sing by the window, disappear up the street.
CHAPTER XXII
CITIZENESS PRIVAT"S CARD
"How does one obtain admission to visit a prisoner, citizen doorkeeper?"
"How does one obtain permission?" repeated the keeper without looking up from the work with which he was occupied. "One waits in that room," and he gave a wave of the pen, "until the proper hour, then if one pa.s.ses satisfactorily under the inspection of the chief prison-keeper and everything appears to be quite regular, one is allowed to see and converse with the prisoner for a short time."
"I wish to see some one here. Pray tell me where I shall find the chief keeper?"
"I am he," replied the keeper, pausing as he dipped his pen in the ink, and looking over the top of his desk saw a woman neatly but simply dressed, as became a citizeness of the Republic. The outlines of her features were partly hidden by the hood of a gray cloak drawn up about her head, but the shadows cast by this garment were not deep enough to hide altogether the beauty of the oval face beneath it.
"Whom do you wish to see?" he asked, evidently satisfied with his inspection, for he dipped his pen in the ink-bottle and resumed his work of ruling perpendicular lines in a ledger.
"I wish to see the prisoner, Robert Tournay."
The jailer put down his ruler. "That is impossible; the prisoner Tournay is not here."
"Not here! Then he has been set at liberty!" The cry of joy that sprang to her lips checked itself, frozen by the quick negative gesture on the keeper"s part. She placed one hand upon the iron rail before her and closed her fingers tightly around it. "He is not--Do not tell me he is dead!" she whispered, looking up at the inexpressive face with a pleading expression in her eyes, as if the jailer were the arbiter of Tournay"s fate.
"Transferred to the conciergerie. You may see for yourself, citizeness,"
and he held up the book and pointed with his forefinger to the notation upon the neatly ruled page, ""Trans. to C." That means that Robert Tournay, former colonel in the army of the Republic, was yesterday transferred to the prison of the conciergerie."
Edme"s heart grew cold. She had no means of knowing the full purport of the change, but she felt that it boded nothing but ill to Robert Tournay.
"Can you tell me why this removal was made?" she asked, although fearing to hear the answer.
"To facilitate his trial. As every one knows the Revolutionary Tribunal is in the same building with the conciergerie. A prisoner may be brought from his cell in the prison into the tribunal chamber, be tried, sentenced, and returned to his dungeon without once being obliged to go outside. He only pa.s.ses out into the streets on his way to the guillotine."
"Has the trial already taken place? Can I see him if I go there at once?" she demanded hurriedly.
As the jailer saw the young woman"s evident distress his voice softened a little as he made reply: "That you may be prepared for another disappointment, I tell you now, that in order to visit him in the conciergerie, you will have to be furnished with a written permit from some member of the committee. Robert Tournay is confined "in secret.""
"Thank you, citizen jailer," was the faint reply. As Edme turned and left the prison lodge, the custodian of the Luxembourg bent over his work again. The book was already filled with lists of names, written evenly in long columns. This book was the record of all the prisoners of the Luxembourg. When one left the prison his departure was duly noted in the s.p.a.ce opposite his name. His transfer to another jail was indicated by the abbreviation "trans." If he was summoned before the tribunal and acquitted, this fact was chronicled by the letters "acq." If he was sentenced to death by the guillotine, the jailer marked him with a little black cross "X." He had once been a schoolmaster, and it was his pride to keep his prison records with neatness and accuracy.
"Nevertheless, I am going to the conciergerie," said Edme to herself as she pa.s.sed along the Rue Vaugirard; "to the conciergerie," she repeated. She stopped abruptly in the street as the remembrance of the Citizeness Privat came to her mind. Putting her hand into her pocket, she drew out the card. ""Permit the Citizeness Privat to enter the rooms of the tribunal." I will be Madame Privat to-night" was Edme"s resolution. "Once in the tribunal chamber, I shall at least be very near the prison."
It was late in the afternoon when she reached the Quai de l"Horloge that skirted the frowning walls of the formidable prison. She pa.s.sed the iron grating of the yard, and looking in, wondered why some sparrows which were twittering and fighting on the pavement beneath an unhealthy looking tree should remain for a moment in a prison yard when they had the whole outside world to fly in. Her pace, which had been a rapid one all the way from the Luxembourg, slackened as she approached the main entrance, and her fingers closed tightly on the card in her pocket, while the heart beneath the gray cloak beat rapidly.
She did not know where to find the tribunal chamber. She had never been in that part of Paris before. She only knew that somewhere in that pile of gray stone were the old Parliament rooms, at present converted into the tribunal chambers of the Republic. Once in those rooms she would be under the same roof with Robert Tournay. Pa.s.sing along the prison wall, she turned up the Rue Barillerie, and there saw the words "Revolutionary Tribunal," in large letters over a doorway. Here was the place to begin the role of the Citizeness Privat.
The June evening was warm, and the air in the street fetid, as if it were poisoned by the prison atmosphere; yet with a quick movement of the hand she pulled the hood closer about her face, and rapidly ascended the stone staircase.
A porter sitting by the doorway looked at her with indifferent gaze, but said nothing as she showed him the permit. She pa.s.sed into the large hall with a strange feeling, as if she were no longer Edme de Rochefort.
From the information she had received Edme knew that there was some means of communication between this hall and the prison. This communication she must discover, but she resolved to set about the task coolly and carefully in order that she might not arouse suspicion in the minds of any chance observer.
She imagined that she heard footsteps in a corridor on the other side of the chamber, and this reminded her forcibly that she must play the part of the Citizeness Privat. She gave a glance around the room, wondering how the worthy citizeness did her work. The room certainly was dirty and needed a good deal of cleaning. Bits of paper littered the floor and were scattered about upon the desks. Upon a set of shelves, some books and pamphlets were buried so deeply in dust that Edme began to think the Citizeness Privat had been somewhat lax in the performance of her duty.
After a short investigation she discovered a broom in an ante-room; and armed with this she returned to the hall and began to sweep into a heap the sc.r.a.ps of paper that littered the floor. This work soon began to fatigue her, and it also rolled up billows of dust which settled down over chairs and tables. She placed the broom in a corner, and looked about for some easier work which would serve her turn as well.
She espied a green cloth protruding from the edge of a table drawer.
Opening the drawer she put in her hand and was surprised to find that the innocent cloth encased a large pistol. She removed the weapon and returned it to the drawer, while with the green case as a dust-cloth she made an attack upon the shelves of books with such violence and success as to cause her to draw back quickly with a sneeze. She stopped, and, with the green dust-cloth poised in air, listened attentively. No sound was heard. Cautiously approaching the door she looked up and down the pa.s.sageway.
At the further end of this corridor she could see a small iron-barred door. This, she rightly conjectured, led to the conciergerie, and through it pa.s.sed the prisoners when they were brought in for trial. She determined to pa.s.s into the prison through this door, and went toward it with a firm step. Taking hold of the bars with both hands, she pressed her face against the ironwork.
"What do you want here?" demanded a voice, and Edme saw in the sombre half light the figure of a sentry. He stood so near the door upon the other side that by stretching her hand through the bars she could have touched him.
"I wish to enter here," Edme replied.
"One does not enter here, citizeness. Go around to the main entrance on the Quai."
"It is so far," she demurred pleadingly. "I have been doing my work here in the tribunal chambers, and now wish to have a few words of conversation with the turnkey Privat."
"Who are you?"
"I--I am Jeanne Privat, his sister."