el dorado-第55章

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southwards　in　the　direction　of　the　Chateau　d'Ourde。　　That　is　all
that　I　can　do。　　If　you　can　contrive　to　let　Percy　or　even　Armand
know　my　movements；　do　so　by　all　means。　　I　know　that　I　shall　be
doing　right；　for；　in　a　way；　I　shall　be　watching　over　you　and
arranging　for　your　safety；　as　Blakeney　begged　me　to　do。　　God　bless
you；　Lady　Blakeney；　and　God　save　the　Scarlet　Pimpernel！〃

He　stooped　and　kissed　her　hand；　and　she　intimated　to　the　officer
that　she　was　ready。　　He　had　a　hackney　coach　waiting　for　her　lower
down　the　street。　　To　it　she　walked　with　a　firm　step；　and　as　she
entered　it　she　waved　a　last　farewell　to　Sir　Andrew　Ffoulkes。



CHAPTER　XLII
THE　GUARD…HOUSE　OF　THE　RUE　STE。　ANNE

The　little　cortege　was　turning　out　of　the　great　gates　of　the　house
of　Justice。　　It　was　intensely　cold；　a　bitter　north…easterly　gale
was　blowing　from　across　the　heights　of　Montmartre；　driving　sleet
and　snow　and　half…frozen　rain　into　the　faces　of　the　men；　and
finding　its　way　up　their　sleeves；　down　their　collars　and　round　the
knees　of　their　threadbare　breeches。

Armand；　whose　fingers　were　numb　with　the　cold；　could　scarcely　feel
the　reins　in　his　hands。　　Chauvelin　was　riding　dose　beside　him；　but
the　two　men　had　not　exchanged　one　word　since　the　moment　when　the
small　troop　of　some　twenty　mounted　soldiers　had　filed　up　inside
the　courtyard；　and　Chauvelin；　with　a　curt　word　of　command；　had
ordered　one　of　the　troopers　to　take　Armand's　horse　on　the　lead。

A　hackney　coach　brought　up　the　rear　of　the　cortege；　with　a　man
riding　at　either　door　and　two　more　following　at　a　distance　of
twenty　paces。　　Heron's　gaunt；　ugly　face；　crowned　with　a　battered；
sugar…loaf　hat；　appeared　from　time　to　time　at　the　window　of　the
coach。　　He　was　no　horseman；　and；　moreover；　preferred　to　keep　the
prisoner　closely　under　his　own　eye。　　The　corporal　had　told　Armand
that　the　prisoner　was　with　citizen　Heron　inside　the　coachin
irons。　　Beyond　that　the　soldiers　could　tell　him　nothing；　they　knew
nothing　of　the　object　of　this　expedition。　Vaguely　they　might　have
wondered　in　their　dull　minds　why　this　particular　prisoner　was　thus
being　escorted　out　of　the　Conciergerie　prison　with　so　much
paraphernalia　and　such　an　air　of　mystery；　when　there　were
thousands　of　prisoners　in　the　city　and　the　provinces　at　the
present　moment　who　anon　would　be　bundled　up　wholesale　into　carts
to　be　dragged　to　the　guillotine　like　a　flock　of　sheep　to　the
butchers。

But　even　if　they　wondered　they　made　no　remarks　among　themselves。
Their　faces；　blue　with　the　cold；　were　the　perfect　mirrors　of　their
own　unconquerable　stolidity。

The　tower　clock　of　Notre　Dame　struck　seven　when　the　small
cavalcade　finally　moved　slowly　out　of　the　monumental　gates。　　In
the　east　the　wan　light　of　a　February　morning　slowly　struggled　out
of　the　surrounding　gloom。　　Now　the　towers　of　many　churches　loomed
ghostlike　against　the　dull　grey　sky；　and　down　below；　on　the　right；
the　frozen　river；　like　a　smooth　sheet　of　steel；　wound　its　graceful
curves　round　the　islands　and　past　the　facade　of　the　Louvres
palace；　whose　walls　looked　grim　and　silent；　like　the　mausoleum　of
the　dead　giants　of　the　past。

All　around　the　great　city　gave　signs　of　awakening；　the　business　of
the　day　renewed　its　course　every　twenty…four　hours；　despite　the
tragedies　of　death　and　of　dishonour　that　walked　with　it　hand　in
hand。　　From　the　Place　de　La　Revolution　the　intermittent　roll　of
drums　came　from　time　to　time　with　its　muffled　sound　striking　the
ear　of　the　passer…by。　Along　the　quay　opposite　an　open…air　camp　was
already　astir；　men；　women；　and　children　engaged　in　the　great　task
of　clothing　and　feeding　the　people　of　France；　armed　against
tyranny；　were　bending　to　their　task；　even　before　the　wintry　dawn
had　spread　its　pale　grey　tints　over　the　narrower　streets　of　the
city。

Armand　shivered　under　his　cloak。　　This　silent　ride　beneath　the
laden　sky；　through　the　veil　of　half…frozen　rain　and　snow；　seemed
like　a　dream　to　him。　　And　now；　as　the　outriders　of　the　little
cavalcade　turned　to　cross　the　Pont　au　Change；　he　saw　spread　out　on
his　left　what　appeared　like　the　living　panorama　of　these　three
weeks　that　had　just　gone　by。　　He　could　see　the　house　of　the　Rue
St。　Germain　l'Auxerrois　where　Percy　had　lodged　before　he　carried
through　the　rescue　of　the　little　Dauphin。　　Armand　could　even　see
the　window　at　which　the　dreamer　had　stood；　weaving　noble　dreams
that　his　brilliant　daring　had　turned　into　realities；　until　the
hand　of　a　traitor　had　brought　him　down　toto　what？　　Armand　would
not　have　dared　at　this　moment　to　look　back　at　that　hideous；　vulgar
hackney　coach　wherein　that　proud；　reckless　adventurer；　who　had
defied　Fate　and　mocked　Death；　sat；　in　chains；　beside　a　loathsome
creature　whose　very　propinquity　was　an　outrage。

Now　they　were　passing　under　the　very　house　on　the　Quai　de　La
Ferraille；　above　the　saddler's　shop；　the　house　where　Marguerite
had　lodged　ten　days　ago；　whither　Armand　had　come；　trying　to　fool
himself　into　the　belief　that　the　love　of　〃little　mother〃　could　be
deceived　into　blindness　against　his　own　crime。　　He　had　tried　to
draw　a　veil　before　those　eyes　which　he　had　scarcely　dared
encounter；　but　he　knew　that　that　veil　must　lift　one　day；　and　then
a　curse　would　send　him　forth；　outlawed　and　homeless；　a　wanderer　on
the　face　of　the　earth。

Soon　as　the　little　cortege　wended　its　way　northwards　it　filed　out
beneath　the　walls　of　the　Temple　prison；　there　was　the　main　gate
with　its　sentry　standing　at　attention；　there　the　archway　with　the
guichet　of　the　concierge；　and　beyond　it　the　paved　courtyard。
Armand　closed　his　eyes　deliberately；　he　could　not　bear　to　look。

No　wonder　that　he　shivered　and　tried　to　draw　his　cloak　closer
around　him。　　Every　stone；　every　street　corner　was　full　of
memories。　　The　chill　that　struck　to　the　very　marrow　of　his　bones
came　from　no　outward　cause；　it　was　the　very　hand　of　remorse　that；
as　it　passed　over　him；　froze　the　blood　in　his　veins　and　made　the
rattle　of　those　wheels　behind　him　sound　like　a　hellish　knell。

At　last　the　more　closely　populated　quarters　of　the　city　were　left
behind。　　On　ahead　the　first　section　of　the　guard　had　turned　into
the　Rue　St。　Anne。　　The　houses　became　more　sparse；　intersected　by
narrow　pieces　of　terrains　vagues；　or　small　weed…covered　bits　of
kitchen　garden。

Then　a　halt　was　called。

It　was　quite　light　now。　　As　light　as　it　would　ever　be　beneath　this
leaden　sky。　　Rain　and　snow　still　fell　in　gusts；　driven　by　the
blast。

Some　one　ordered　Armand　to　dismount。　　It　was　probably　Chauvelin。
He　did　as　he　was　told；　and　a　trooper　led　him　to　the　door　of　an
irregular　brick　building　that　stood　isolated　on　the　right；
extended　on　either　side　by　a　low　wall；　and　surrounded　by　a　patch
of　uncultivated　land；　which　now　looked　like　a　sea　of　mud。

On　ahead　was　the　line　of　fortifications　dimly　outlined　against　the
grey　of　the　sky；　and　in　between　brown；　sodden　earth；　with　here　and
there　a　detached　house；　a　cabbage　patch；　a　couple　of　windmills
deserted　and　desolate。

The　loneliness　of　an　unpopulated　outlying　quarter　of　the　great
mother　city；　a　useless　limb　of　her　active　body；　an　ostracised
member　of　her　vast　family。

Mechanically　Armand　had　followed　the　soldier　to　the　door　of　the
building。　　Here　Chauvelin　was　standing；　and　bade　him　follow。　　A
smell　of　hot　coffee　hung　in　the　dark　narrow　passage　in　front。
Chauvelin　led　the　way　to　a　room　on　the　left。

Still　that　smell　of　hot　coffee。　　Ever　after　it　was　associated　in
Armand's　mind　with　this　awful　morning　in　the　guard…house　of　the
Rue　Ste。　Anne；　when　the　rain　and　snow　beat　against　the　windows；
and　he　stood　there　in　the　low　guard…room　shivering　and　half…numbed
with　cold。

There　was　a　table　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　and　on　it　stood　cups
of　hot　coffee。　　Chauvelin　bade　him　drink；　suggesting；　not
unkindly；　that　the　warm　beverage　would　do　him　good。　　Armand
advanced　further　into　the　room；　and　saw　that　there　were　wooden
benches　all　round　against　the　wall。　　On　one　of　these　sat　his
sister　Marguerite。

When　she　saw　him　she　made　a　sudden；　instinctive　movement　to　go　to
him；　but　Chauvelin　interposed　in　his　usual　bland；　quiet　manner。

〃Not　just　now；　citizeness；〃　he　said。

She　sat　down　again；　and　Armand　noted　how　cold　and　stony　seemed　her
eyes；　as　if　life　within　her　was　at　a　stand…still；　and　a　shadow
that　was　almost　like　death　had　atrophied　every　emotion　in　her。

〃I　trust　you　have　not　suffered　too　much　from　the　cold；　Lady
Blakeney；〃　resumed　Chauvelin　politely；　〃we　ought　not　to　have　kept
you　waiting　here　for　so　long；　but　delay　at　departure　is　sometimes
inevitable。〃

She　made　no　reply；　only　acknowledging　his　reiterated　inquiry　as　to
her　comfort　with　an　inclination　of　the　head。

Armand　had　forced　himself　to　swallow　some　coffee；　and　for　the
moment　he　felt　less　chilled。　　He　held　the　cup　between　his　two
hands；　and　gradually　some　warmth　crept　into　his　bones。

〃Little　mother；〃　he　said　in　English；　〃try　and　drink　some　of　this；
it　will　do　you　good。〃

〃Thank　you；　dear；〃　she　replied。　　〃I　have　had　some。　　I　am　not
cold。〃

Then　a　door　at　the　end　of　the　room　was　pushed　open；　and　Heron
stalked　in。

〃Are　we　going　to　be　all　day　in　this　confounded　hole？〃　he　queried
roughly。

Armand；　who　was　watching　his　sister　very　closely；　saw　that　she
started　at　the　sight　of　the　wretch；　and　seemed　immediately　to
shrink　still　further　within　herself；　whilst　her　eyes；　suddenly
luminous　and　dilated；　rested　on　him　like　those　of　a　captive　bird
upon　an　approaching　cobra。

But　Chauvelin　was　not　to　be　shaken　out　of　his　suave　manner。

〃One　moment；　citizen　Heron；〃　he　said；　〃this　coffee　is　very
comforting。　　Is　the　prisoner　with　you？〃　he　added　lightly。

Heron　nodded　in　the　direction　of　the　other　room。

〃In　there；〃　he　said　curtly。

〃Then；　perhaps；　if　you　will　be　so　good；　citizen；　to　invite　him
thither；　I　could　explain　to　him　his　future　position　and　our　own。〃

Heron　muttered　something　between　his　fleshy　lips；　then　he　turned
back　towards　the　open　door；　solemnly　spat　twice　on　the　threshold；
and　nodded　his　gaunt　head　once　or　twice　in　a　manner　which
apparently　was　understood　from　within。

〃No；　sergeant；　I　don't　want　you；〃　he　said　gruffly；　〃only　the
prisoner。〃

A　second　or　two　later　Sir　Percy　Blakeney　stood　in　the　doorway；　his
hands　were　behind　his　back；　obviously　hand…cuffed；　but　he　held
himself　very　erect；　though　it　was　clear　that　this　caused　him　a
mighty　effort。　　As　soon　as　he　had　crossed　the　threshold　his　quick
glance　had　swept　right　round　the　room。

He　saw　Armand；　and　his　eyes　lit　up　almost　imperceptibly。

Then　he　caught　sight　of　Marguerite；　and　his　pale　face　took　on
suddenly　a　more　ashen　hue。

Chauvelin　was　watching　him　with　those　keen；　light…coloured　eyes　of
his。　　Blakeney；　conscious　of　this；　made　no　movement；　only　his　lips
tightened；　and　the　heavy　lids　fell　over　the　hollow　eyes；
completely　hiding　their　glance。

But　what　even　the　most　astute；　most　deadly　enemy　could　not　see　was
that　subtle　message　of　understanding　that　passed　at　once　between
Marguerite　and　the　man　she　loved；　it　was　a　magnetic　current；
intangible；　invisible　to　all　save　to　her　and　to　him。　　She　was
prepared　to　see　him；　prepared　to　see　in　him　all　that　she　had
feared；　the　weakness；　the　mental　exhaustion；　the　submission　to　the
inevitable。　Therefore　she