el dorado-第8章

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quickly　suppressed。　　A　grim　silence　reigned　in　this　thickly…peopled
camp；　only　the　crackling　of　the　torches　broke　that　silence　now　and
then；　or　the　flapping　of　canvas　in　the　wintry　gale。　　They　worked　on
sullen；　desperate；　and　starving；　with　no　hope　of　payment　save　the
miserable　rations　wrung　from　poor　tradespeople　or　miserable　farmers；
as　wretched；　as　oppressed　as　themselves；　no　hope　of　payment；　only
fear　of　punishment；　for　that　was　ever　present。

The　people　of　France　in　arms　against　tyranny　were　not　allowed　to
forget　that　grim　taskmaster　with　the　two　great　hands　stretched
upwards；　holding　the　knife　which　descended　mercilessly；
indiscriminately　on　necks　that　did　not　bend　willingly　to　the　task。

A　grim　look　of　gratified　desire　had　spread　over　de　Batz'　face　as
he　skirted　the　open…air　camp。　　Let　them　toil；　let　them　groan；　let
them　starve！　　The　more　these　clouts　suffer；　the　more　brutal　the
heel　that　grinds　them　down；　the　sooner　will　the　Emperor's　money
accomplish　its　work；　the　sooner　will　these　wretches　be　clamoring
for　the　monarchy；　which　would　mean　a　rich　reward　in　de　Batz'
pockets。

To　him　everything　now　was　for　the　best：　　the　tyranny；　the
brutality；　the　massacres。　　He　gloated　in　the　holocausts　with　as
much　satisfaction　as　did　the　most　bloodthirsty　Jacobin　in　the
Convention。　　He　would　with　his　own　hands　have　wielded　the
guillotine　that　worked　too　slowly　for　his　ends。　　Let　that　end
justify　the　means；　was　his　motto。　What　matter　if　the　future　King
of　France　walked　up　to　his　throne　over　steps　made　of　headless
corpses　and　rendered　slippery　with　the　blood　of　martyrs？

The　ground　beneath　de　Batz'　feet　was　hard　and　white　with　the
frost。　　Overhead　the　pale；　wintry　moon　looked　down　serene　and
placid　on　this　giant　city　wallowing　in　an　ocean　of　misery。

There；　had　been　but　little　snow　as　yet　this　year；　and　the　cold　was
intense。　　On　his　right　now　the　Cimetiere　des　SS。　　Innocents　lay
peaceful　and　still　beneath　the　wan　light　of　the　moon。　　A　thin
covering　of　snow　lay　evenly　alike　on　grass　mounds　and　smooth
stones。　　Here　and　there　a　broken　cross　with　chipped　arms　still
held　pathetically　outstretched；　as　if　in　a　final　appeal　for　human
love；　bore　mute　testimony　to　senseless　excesses　and　spiteful
desire　for　destruction。

But　here　within　the　precincts　of　the　dwelling　of　the　eternal
Master　a　solemn　silence　reigned；　only　the　cold　north　wind　shook
the　branches　of　the　yew；　causing　them　to　send　forth　a　melancholy
sigh　into　the　night；　and　to　shed　a　shower　of　tiny　crystals　of　snow
like　the　frozen　tears　of　the　dead。

And　round　the　precincts　of　the　lonely　graveyard；　and　down　narrow
streets　or　open　places；　the　night　watchmen　went　their　rounds；
lanthorn　in　hand；　and　every　five　minutes　their　monotonous　call
rang　clearly　out　in　the　night：

〃Sleep；　citizens！　everything　is　quiet　and　at　peace！〃



We　may　take　it　that　de　Batz　did　not　philosophise　over…much　on　what
went　on　around　him。　　He　had　walked　swiftly　up　the　Rue　St。　Martin；
then　turning　sharply　to　his　right　he　found　himself　beneath　the
tall；　frowning　walls　of　the　Temple　prison；　the　grim　guardian　of　so
many　secrets；　such　terrible　despair；　such　unspeakable　tragedies。

Here；　too；　as　in　the　Place　de　la　Revolution；　an　intermittent　roll
of　muffled　drums　proclaimed　the　ever…watchful　presence　of　the
National　Guard。　　But　with　that　exception　not　a　sound　stirred　round
the　grim　and　stately　edifice；　there　were　no　cries；　no　calls；　no
appeals　around　its　walls。　　All　the　crying　and　wailing　was　shut　in
by　the　massive　stone　that　told　no　tales。

Dim　and　flickering　lights　shone　behind　several　of　the　small
windows　in　the　facade　of　the　huge　labyrinthine　building。　　Without
any　hesitation　de　Batz　turned　down　the　Rue　du　Temple；　and　soon
found　himself　in　front　of　the　main　gates　which　gave　on　the
courtyard　beyond。　　The　sentinel　challenged　him；　but　he　had　the
pass…word；　and　explained　that　he　desired　to　have　speech　with
citizen　Heron。

With　a　surly　gesture　the　guard　pointed　to　the　heavy　bell…pull　up
against　the　gate；　and　de　Batz　pulled　it　with　all　his　might。　　The
long　clang　of　the　brazen　bell　echoed　and　re…echoed　round　the　solid
stone　walls。　　Anon　a　tiny　judas　in　the　gate　was　cautiously　pushed
open；　and　a　peremptory　voice　once　again　challenged　the　midnight
intruder。

De　Batz；　more　peremptorily　this　time；　asked　for　citizen　Heron；
with　whom　he　had　immediate　and　important　business；　and　a　glimmer
of　a　piece　of　silver　which　he　held　up　close　to　the　judas　secured
him　the　necessary　admittance。

The　massive　gates　slowly　swung　open　on　their　creaking　hinges；　and
as　de　Batz　passed　beneath　the　archway　they　closed　again　behind　him。

The　concierge's　lodge　was　immediately　on　his　left。　Again　he　was
challenged；　and　again　gave　the　pass…word。　But　his　face　was
apparently　known　here；　for　no　serious　hindrance　to　proceed　was　put
in　his　way。

A　man；　whose　wide；　lean　frame　was　but　ill…covered　by　a　threadbare
coat　and　ragged　breeches；　and　with　soleless　shoes　on　his　feet；　was
told　off　to　direct　the　citoyen　to　citizen　Heron's　rooms。　　The　man
walked　slowly　along　with　bent　knees　and　arched　spine；　and　shuffled
his　feet　as　he　walked；　the　bunch　of　keys　which　he　carried　rattled
ominously　in　his　long；　grimy　hands；　the　passages　were　badly
lighted；　and　he　also　carried　a　lanthorn　to　guide　himself　on　the
way。

Closely　followed　by　de　Batz；　he　soon　turned　into　the　central
corridor；　which　is　open　to　the　sky　above；　and　was　spectrally
alight　now　with　flag…stones　and　walls　gleaming　beneath　the　silvery
sheen　of　the　moon；　and　throwing　back　the　fantastic　elongated
shadows　of　the　two　men　as　they　walked。

On　the　left；　heavily　barred　windows　gave　on　the　corridor；　as　did
here　and　there　the　massive　oaken　doors；　with　their　gigantic　hinges
and　bolts；　on　the　steps　of　which　squatted　groups　of　soldiers
wrapped　in　their　cloaks；　with　wild；　suspicious　eyes　beneath　their
capotes；　peering　at　the　midnight　visitor　as　he　passed。

There　was　no　thought　of　silence　here。　　The　very　walls　seemed　alive
with　sounds；　groans　and　tears；　loud　wails　and　murmured　prayers；
they　exuded　from　the　stones　and　trembled　on　the　frost…laden　air。

Occasionally　at　one　of　the　windows　a　pair　of　white　hands　would
appear；　grasping　the　heavy　iron　bar；　trying　to　shake　it　in　its
socket；　and　mayhap；　above　the　hands；　the　dim　vision　of　a　haggard
face；　a　man's　or　a　woman's；　trying　to　get　a　glimpse　of　the　outside
world；　a　final　look　at　the　sky；　before　the　last　journey　to　the
place　of　death　to…morrow。　　Then　one　of　the　soldiers；　with　a　loud；
angry　oath；　would　struggle　to　his　feet；　and　with　the　butt…end　of
his　gun　strike　at　the　thin；　wan　fingers　till　their　hold　on　the
iron　bar　relaxed；　and　the　pallid　face　beyond　would　sink　back　into
the　darkness　with　a　desperate　cry　of　pain。

A　quick；　impatient　sigh　escaped　de　Batz'　lips。　　He　had　skirted　the
wide　courtyard　in　the　wake　of　his　guide；　and　from　where　he　was　he
could　see　the　great　central　tower；　with　its　tiny　windows　lighted
from　within；　the　grim　walls　behind　which　the　descendant　of　the
world's　conquerors；　the　bearer　of　the　proudest　name　in　Europe；　and
wearer　of　its　most　ancient　crown；　had　spent　the　last　days　of　his
brilliant　life　in　abject　shame；　sorrow；　and　degradation。　　The
memory　had　swiftly　surged　up　before　him　of　that　night　when　he　all
but　rescued　King　Louis　and　his　family　from　this　same　miserable
prison：　the　guard　had　been　bribed；　the　keeper　corrupted；
everything　had　been　prepared；　save　the　reckoning　with　the　one
irresponsible　factorchance！

He　had　failed　then　and　had　tried　again；　and　again　had　failed；　a
fortune　had　been　his　reward　if　he　had　succeeded。　He　had　failed；
but　even　now；　when　his　footsteps　echoed　along　the　flagged
courtyard；　over　which　an　unfortunate　King　and　Queen　had　walked　on
their　way　to　their　last　ignominious　Calvary；　he　hugged　himself
with　the　satisfying　thought　that　where　he　had　failed　at　least　no
one　else　had　succeeded。

Whether　that　meddlesome　English　adventurer；　who　called　himself　the
Scarlet　Pimpernel；　had　planned　the　rescue　of　King　Louis　or　of
Queen　Marie　Antoinette　at　any　time　or　notthat　he　did　not　'know；
but　on　one　point　at　least　he　was　more　than　ever　determined；　and
that　was　that　no　power　on　earth　should　snatch　from　him　the　golden
prize　offered　by　Austria　for　the　rescue　of　the　little　Dauphin。

〃I　would　sooner　see　the　child　perish；　if　I　cannot　save　him　myself；〃
was　the　burning　thought　in　this　man's　tortuous　brain。　　〃And　let
that　accursed　Englishman　look　to　himself　and　to　his　dd　confederates；〃
be　added；　muttering　a　fierce　oath　beneath　his　breath。

A　winding；　narrow　stone　stair；　another　length　or　two　of　corridor；
and　his　guide's　shuffling　footsteps　paused　beside　a　low
iron…studded　door　let　into　the　solid　stone。　　De　Batz　dismissed　his
ill…clothed　guide　and　pulled　the　iron　bell…handle　which　hung
beside　the　door。

The　bell　gave　forth　a　dull　and　broken　clang；　which　seemed　like　an
echo　of　the　wails　of　sorrow　that　peopled　the　huge　building　with
their　weird　and　monotonous　sounds。

De　Batza　thoroughly　unimaginative　personwaited　patiently
beside　the　door　until　it　was　opened　from　within；　and　he　was
confronted　by　a　tall　stooping　figure；　wearing　a　greasy　coat　of
snuff…brown　cloth；　and　holding　high　above　his　head　a　lanthorn　that
threw　its　feeble　light　on　de　Batz'　jovial　face　and　form。

〃It　is　even　I；　citizen　Heron；〃　he　said；　breaking　in　swiftly　on　the
other's　ejaculation　of　astonishment；　which　threatened　to　send　his
name　echoing　the　whole　length　of　corridors　and　passages；　until
round　every　corner　of　the　labyrinthine　house　of　sorrow　the　murmur
would　be　borne　on　the　wings　of　the　cold　night　breeze：　　〃Citizen
Heron　is　in　parley　with　ci…devant　Baron　de　Batz！〃

A　fact　which　would　have　been　equally　unpleasant　for　both　these
worthies。

〃Enter！〃　said　Heron　curtly。

He　banged　the　heavy　door　to　behind　his　visitor；　and　de　Batz；　who
seemed　to　know　his　way　about　the　place；　walked　straight　across　the
narrow　landing　to　where　a　smaller　door　stood　invitingly　open。

He　stepped　boldly　in；　the　while　citizen　Heron　put　the　lanthorn
down　on　the　floor　of　the　couloir；　and　then　followed　his　nocturnal
visitor　into　the　room。



CHAPTER　VI
THE　COMMITTEE'S　AGENT

It　was　a　narrow；　ill…ventilated　place；　with　but　one　barred　window
that　gave　on　the　courtyard。　　An　evil…smelling　lamp　hung　by　a　chain
from　the　grimy　ceiling；　and　in　a　corner　of　the　room　a　tiny　iron
stove　shed　more　unpleasant　vapour　than　warm　glow　around。

There　was　but　little　furniture：　two　or　three　chairs；　a　table　which
was　littered　with　papers；　and　a　corner…cupboardthe　open　doors　of
which　revealed　a　miscellaneous　collectionbundles　of　papers；　a
tin　saucepan；　a　piece　of　cold　sausage；　and　a　couple　of　pistols。
The　fumes　of　stale　tobacco…smoke　hovered　in　the　air；　and　mingled
most　unpleasantly　with　those　of　the　lamp　above；　and　of　the　mildew
that　penetrated　through　the　walls　just　below　the　roof。

Heron　pointed　to　one　of　the　chairs；　and　then　sat　down　on　the
other；　close　to　the　table；　on　which　he　rested　his　elbow。　He　picked
up　a　short…stemmed　pipe；　which　he　had　evidently　laid　aside　at　the
sound　of　the　bell；　and　having　taken　several　deliberate　long…drawn
puffs　from　it；　he　said　abruptly：

〃Well；　what　is　it　now？〃

In　the　meanwhile　de　Batz　had　made　himself　as　mu