But nothing occurred of what the patriot feared. At a few minutes before nine the turnkey rose, chucked the hostess under the chin, and went out.
The patriot rejoined him at the quay of the Conciergerie, and they entered the prison together.
On that same evening the affair was concluded, and Father Richard accepted Mardoche as a substitute for Gracchus.
Two hours before this arrangement took place, another scene had been enacted in a different part of the prison, which, although apparently of no interest, was possessed of vital importance to the principal personages of this history.
The registrar of the Conciergerie, fatigued with his day's labor, was folding up his papers and preparing to leave, when a man, conducted by Madame Richard, presented himself in his office.
[Pg 393]
"Citizen Registrar," said she, "here is your fellow registrar of the Minister of War, who comes on the part of the Citizen Minister to transfer some military entries."
"Ah, Citizen," said the registrar, "you are too late; I have just put away all my papers."
"Dear brother, pardon me," said the new-comer; "but we are really so overwhelmed with business that we can only achieve our course by turning our leisure to profit; and our leisure is the time occupied by others in eating and sleeping."
"That alters the case, my dear fellow; so make haste, for, as you observe, it is near supper-time, and I am very hungry. Have you your documents?"
"Here they are," said the registrar of the Minister of War, exhibiting a portfolio of papers which his brother, anxious as he was to leave, scrutinized with the strictest attention.
"Oh, they are all right!" said Richard's wife, "and my husband has already thoroughly inspected them."
"Never mind, never mind!" said the registrar, continuing his examination. The registrar of the Minister of War remained like a man who had expected the strict accomplishment of all due formalities.
"Perfectly correct," said the registrar of the Conciergerie; "and you can now commence as soon as you please. Have you many entries to transfer?"
"A hundred."
"That will occupy you for several days."
"Therefore dear brother, I wish to form a small establishment with you,—that is to say, if you will permit me."
"How am I to understand you?" said the registrar of the Conciergerie.
[Pg 394]
"I will explain it to you fully, if you will join us at supper this evening. You say you are hungry?"
"I do not deny it."
"Well, you shall see my wife, who is a good housekeeper; and you will become better acquainted with me, and will acknowledge me for a good companion."
"Faith, yes; you strike me as such, my dear brother; yet, notwithstanding—"
"Oh, come without ceremony, and partake of some oysters that I will purchase as I pass the Place du Châtelet, a roasted chicken, and a few dishes which Madame Durand excels in."
"You tempt me, my brother," said the registrar of the Conciergerie, delighted at the bill of fare, to which he was totally unaccustomed as a registrar paid by the Revolutionary Tribunal at the rate of two livres in paper money, in reality hardly equal to two francs.
"Then you will accept my invitation?"
"Yes, willingly."
"In that case, to work to-morrow; this evening let us go."
"All right; let us start."
"Are you ready?"
"In an instant, only I must first inform the gendarmes who guard the Austrian."
"Why must you tell them?"
"So that when they know that I am absent, and that there is no one at the wicket, they may become suspicious of every noise."
"Ah, that is a very wise precaution, faith!"
"You understand now?"
"Perfectly."
The registrar of the Conciergerie went and knocked at the wicket, which was opened by one of the gendarmes.
[Pg 395]
"Who is there?"
"I, the registrar, you know. I am going out. Good-evening, Citizen Gilbert."
"Good-evening, Citizen Registrar," and the wicket was shut.
The registrar of the Minister of War had paid the greatest attention to this scene, and while the door of the queen's prison remained open, his looks rapidly penetrated to the first compartment, when, seeing the other gendarme Duchesne seated at table, he felt perfectly assured the queen had only two guards.
When the registrar of the Conciergerie returned, his fellow registrar's face had resumed its expression of stolid indifference.
As they went out of the Conciergerie two men entered. They were the Citizen Gracchus and his cousin Mardoche.
On seeing each other, Cousin Mardoche and the registrar of the Minister of War each, by a simultaneous movement arising from the same impulse, pulled over their eyes, the one his hairy bonnet, the other his broad-brimmed hat.
"Who are these men?" asked the registrar of the Minister of War.
"I only know one of them; it is a turnkey named Gracchus."
"Ah!" said the other, with affected indifference, "do the turnkeys then go out of the Conciergerie?"
"They have their day."
The investigation did not proceed any further, and the new friends took the road to the Pont-au-Change. At the corner of the Place du Châtelet, the registrar of the Minister of War, following the programme he had announced, purchased some oysters, and continued his way by the Quai de Gèvres.
[Pg 396]
The dwelling of this individual was simple. The Citizen Durand inhabited three little rooms in the Place de Grève, in a house without any porter. Each tenant had a key of the door in the passage, and it was agreed that if any one had omitted to take his key, he should intimate the same by one, two, or three raps with the knocker, according to the story he inhabited, and any one who was waiting, and heard the signal, then descended and opened the door; but the Citizen Durand, having provided himself with his key, had not any occasion to knock. They ascended two flights of stairs, when the Citizen Durand drew another key from his pocket, and they both entered.
The registrar of the Palace found his friend's wife much to his taste. She was indeed a charming woman; an appearance of profound melancholy diffused over her countenance stamped it with an expression of deep interest. It has always been allowed that sadness is seductive in women, especially pretty women. It attracts all men without exception, even registrars,—for registrars are but men after all; and what man possessed with natural feeling would not wish to console a pretty woman in affliction, and, as the Citizen Dorat remarks, "Change the pale tint of the white rose to a livelier hue"?
The two registrars did ample justice to their excellent supper; it was only Madame Durand who ate nothing.
In the mean time conversation proceeded. The registrar inquired of his brother registrar—with a curiosity the more remarkable in these days, when such frightful dramas were daily enacted—concerning the customs of the Palace, the days of judgment, and the means of surveillance.
The registrar of the Palace, delighted at being listened to with so much deference, replied with the greatest complaisance, spoke of the manners of the jailers, of Fouquier[Pg 397] Tinville, and lastly of Citizen Sanson, the principal actor in the tragedies daily performed upon the Place de la Révolution.
Then in his turn, addressing his colleague and host, he made various inquiries concerning his vocation and ministry.
"Oh!" said Durand, "I am not so well informed as yourself, being a person of much less importance, seeing that I am rather secretary to the registrar than the incumbent of the place. I do the work of the registrar-in-chief,—an obscure employment,—laborious for me, profitable for them; but that is the way with all bureaucracies, not excepting those of the Revolution. Heaven and earth may perhaps change one day, but these things never."
"Well, I will assist you, Citizen," said the registrar of the Palace, charmed with the excellence of his host's wine, and above all with the beautiful eyes of Madame Durand.
"Thanks!" said he to whom this offer had been made, "anything to vary the habits; and locality is some distraction to a poor employee. I wish to protract my work at the Conciergerie rather than to hasten it, and therefore thought if I might every day bring Madame Durand with me to the office, who is very dull here—"
"I do not see any inconvenience in that," said the registrar of the Palace, delighted with the prospect of the charming recreation afforded him by his colleague.
"She can dictate the papers," said the Citizen Durand; "and occasionally when our work is finished, if you have not found this evening unpleasant, you can return and spend an hour or two with us."
"Yes; but not too often," replied the registrar of the Palace, foppishly; "for I declare I shall be scolded if I[Pg 398] return later than usual to a small house in the Rue du Petit Musc."
"Oh, we shall arrange all that splendidly; shall we not, my dear?"
Madame Durand, pale and melancholy as usual, raised her eyes toward her husband, and replied,—
"What you wish shall be done."
Eleven o'clock struck, announcing it was time to retire. The registrar of the Palace rose and took leave of his new friends, expressing the great pleasure he felt in making their acquaintance.
The Citizen Durand conducted his friend to the landing, then re-entered the apartment.
"Go, Geneviève, go to bed!" said he.
The young woman made no reply, but rose directly, took her lamp, and withdrew to the bedroom on the right. Durand, or rather Dixmer, watched her departure, remained stationary for a moment with a gloomy, thoughtful expression of countenance, and then passed into his own chamber on the opposite side.
[Pg 399]