The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel (The Scarlet Pimpernel)

01IV.

02THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL They all looked a merry, even a happy party, as they sat round the table.

03Sir Andrew Foulkes and Lord Anthony Dewhurst, two typical, good-looking, well-born and well-bred Englishmen of that year of grace, 1792, and the aristocratic French Comtesse, with her two children, who had just escaped from such dire perils, and found a safe retreat at last on the shores of protecting England.

04In the corner the two strangers had apparently finished their game.

05One of the them arose, and standing with his back to the merry company at the table, he adjusted with much deliberation his large triple-caped coat.

06As he did so, he gave one quick glance all around him.

07Every one was busy laughing and chatting, and he murmured the words, "'All safe.' His companion then, with the alertness born of long practice, slipped on to his knees in a moment, and the next had crept noiselessly under the oak bench.

08The stranger then, with a loud, "'Good night,' quietly walked out of the coffee-room." Not one of those at the supper-table had noticed his curious and silent manoeuvre.

09But when the stranger finally closed the door of the coffee-room behind him, they all instinctively sighed a sigh of relief.

10And she conveyed her glass to her lips.

11I scarcely dare to hope.

12But already Lord Antony had served out the soup, and for the next few moments all conversation ceased, while Jellyband and Sally handed round the plates, and every one began to eat.

13"'Faith, madame,' said Lord Antony, after a while.

14Mine was no idle toast.

15Seeing yourself, Mademoiselle Suzanne, and my friend the Vicomte, safely in England now, surely you must feel reassured as to the fate of Monsieur le Comte.' "'Ah, monsieur,' replied the Comtesse, with a heavy sigh, "'I trust in God.

16I can but pray and hope.' "'Ai, madame,' here interposed Sir Andrew Foulkes, "'trust in God by all means.

17But believe also a little in your English friends, who have sworn to bring the Count safely across the Channel, even as they have brought you to-day.' "'Indeed, indeed, monsieur,' she replied, "'I have the fullest confidence in you and your friends.

18Your fame, I assure you, has spread throughout the whole of France.

19The way some of my own friends have escaped from the clutches of that awful revolutionary tribunal was nothing short of a miracle, and all done by you and your friends.' "'We were but the hands, madame la Comtesse.' "'But my husband, monsieur,' said the Comtesse, whilst unshed tears seemed to veil her voice, "'he is in such deadly peril.

20I would never have left him only—'!

21There were my children.

22I was torn between my duty to him and to them.

23They refused to go without me.

24And you and your friends assured me so solemnly that my husband would be safe.

25But, oh, now that I am here amongst you all, in this beautiful free England, I think of him, flying for his life, hunted like a poor beast, in such peril.

26I should not have left him—I should not have left him!' The poor woman had completely broken down.

27Fatigue, sorrow, and emotion had over-mastered her rigid aristocratic bearing.

28She was crying gently to herself, whilst Suzanne ran up to her and tried to kiss away her tears.

29Lord Antony and Sir Andrew had said nothing to interrupt the Comtesse while she was speaking.

30There was no doubt that they felt deeply for her—their very silence testified to that.

31But in every century, and ever since England has been what it is, an Englishman has always felt somewhat ashamed of his own emotion and of his own sympathy.

32And so the two young men said nothing, and busied themselves in trying to hide their feelings, only succeeding in looking immeasurably sheepish.

33"'As for me, monsieur,' said Suzanne suddenly, as she looked through a wealth of brown curls across at Sir Andrew, "'I trust you absolutely, and I know that you will bring my dear father safely to England, just as you brought us to-day.' This was said with so much confidence, such unuttered hope and belief, that it seemed as if by magic to dry the mother's eyes, and to bring a smile upon everybody's lips.

34"'Nay, you shame me, mademoiselle,' replied Sir Andrew.

35"'Though my life is at your service, I have been but a humble tool in the hands of our great leader, who organized and effected your escape.' He had spoken with so much warmth and vehemence, that Suzanne's eyes fastened upon him in undisguised wonder.

36"'Your leader, monsieur,' said the comtesse eagerly.

37"'Ah, of course!

38you must have a leader.

39And I did not think of that before.

40But tell me, where is he?

41I must go to him at once, and I and my children must throw ourselves at his feet, and thank him for all that he has done for us.' "'Alas, madame,' said Lord Antony, "'that is impossible.' "'Impossible?

42Why?' "'Because the Scarlet Pimpernel works in the dark, and his identity is only known under the solemn oath of secrecy to his immediate followers.' "'The Scarlet Pimpernel?' said Suzanne, with a merry laugh.

43"'Why, what a droll name!

44What is the Scarlet Pimpernel, monsieur?' She looked at Sir Andrew with eager curiosity.

45The young man's face had become almost transfigured.

46His eyes shone with enthusiasm.

47Hero-worship, love, admiration for his leader seemed literally to glow upon his face.

48"'The Scarlet Pimpernel, mademoiselle,' he said at last, "'is the name of a humble English wayside flower.

49But it is also the name chosen to hide the identity of the best and bravest man in all the world, so that he may better succeed in accomplishing the noble task he has set himself to do.' "'Ah, yes,' here interposed the young Vicomte.

50"'I have heard speak of this Scarlet Pimpernel.

51A little flower.

52Red, yes?

53They say in Paris that every time a royalist escapes to England, that devil, Fouquier-Tanville, the public prosecutor, receives a paper with that little flower designated in red upon it, yes?' "'Yes, that is so,' assented Lord Antony.

54"'Then he will have received one such paper to-day?' "'Undoubtedly.' "'Oh!

55I wonder what he will say,' said Suzanne merrily.

56"'I have heard that the picture of that little red flower is the only thing that frightens him.' "'Faith, then,' said Sir Andrew, "'he will have many more opportunities of studying the shape of that small scarlet flower.' "'Ah, monsieur,' sighed the comtesse, "'it all sounds like a romance, and I cannot understand it all.

57"'Why should you try, madame?' "'But tell me, why should your leader—why should you all—spend your money and risk your lives—for it is your lives you risk, monsieur, when you set foot in France—and all for us French men and women, who are nothing to you?' "'Sport, madame la comtesse, sport,' asserted Lord Antony, with his jovial, loud, and pleasant voice.

58"'We are a nation of sportsmen, you know.

59And just now it is the fashion to pour the hair from between the teeth of the hound.' "'Ah, no, no, not sport, only monsieur.

60You have a more noble motive, I am sure, for the good work you do.' "'Faith, madame, I would like you to find it, then.

61As for me, I vow I love the game, for this is the finest sport I have yet encountered.

62Hair-breath escapes, the devil's own risks—tally-ho, and away we go!' But the comtesse shook her head still incredulously.

63To her it seemed preposterous that these young men and their great leader—all of them rich, probably well-born and young—should, for no other motive than sport, run the terrible risks which she knew they were constantly doing.

64Their nationality, once they had set foot in France, would be no safeguard to them.

65Anyone found harbouring or assisting suspected royalists would be ruthlessly condemned and summarily executed, whatever his nationality might be.

66And this band of young Englishmen had, to her own knowledge, bearded the implacable and bloodthirsty tribunal of the Revolution within the very walls of Paris itself, and had snatched away condemned victims almost from the very foot of the guillotine.

67With a shudder she recalled the events of the last few days—her escape from Paris with her two children, all three of them hidden beneath the hood of a rickety cart, lying amidst a heap of turnips and cabbages, not daring to breathe, whilst the mob howled, a la lanterne des Aristos, at the awful west barricade.

68It had all occurred in such a miraculous way.

69She and her husband had understood that they had been placed on the list of suspected persons, which meant that their trial and death were but a matter of days—of hours, perhaps.

70Then came the hope of salvation.

71The mysterious epistle, signed with the enigmatical scarlet device, the clear peremptory directions, the parting from the comte de Tournai, which had torn the poor wife's heart in two, the hope of reunion, the flight with her two children, the covered cart, that awful hag driving it, who looked like some horrible evil demon, with the ghastly trophy on her whip-handle.

72The comtesse looked round at the quaint, old-fashioned English inn, the peace of this land of civil and religious liberty, and she closed her eyes to shut out the haunting vision of that west barricade, and of the mob retreating panic-stricken, when the old hag spoke of the plague.

73Every moment under that cart she expected recognition, arrest, herself and her children tried and condemned, and these young Englishmen, under the guidance of their brave and mysterious leader, had risked their lives to save them all, as they had already saved scores of other innocent people.

74And all only for sport?

75Impossible!

76Suzanne's eyes, as she sought those of Sir Andrew, plainly told him that she thought that he, at any rate, rescued his fellow-men from terrible and unmerited death, through a higher and nobler motive than his friend would have her believe.

77How many are there in your brave league, monsieur?

78she asked timidly.

79Twenty, all told, mademoiselle, he replied, one to command, and nineteen to obey, all of us Englishmen, and all pledged to the same cause, to obey our leader and to rescue the innocent.

80May God protect you all, monsieur, said the comtesse fervently.

81He has done that so far, madame.

82It is wonderful to me, wonderful, that you should all be so brave, so devoted to your fellow-men.

83Yet you are English, and in France treachery is rife, all in the name of liberty and fraternity.

84The women, even in France, have been more bitter against us aristocrats than the men, said David Comte with a sigh.

85Ah, yes, added the comtesse, while a look of haughty disdain and intense bitterness shot through her melancholy eyes.

86There was that woman, Marguerite Saint-Just, for instance.

87She denounced the Marquis de Saint-Cyr and all his family to the awful tribunal of the terror.

88Marguerite Saint-Just, said Lord Anthony, as he shot a quick and apprehensive glance across at Sir Andrew.

89Marguerite Saint-Just, surely?

90Yes, replied the comtesse, surely you know her.

91She was a leading actress of the Comédie Française, and she married an Englishman lately.

92You must know her.

93Know her?

94said Lord Anthony.

95Know Lady Blakeney, the most fashionable woman in London, the wife of the richest man in England?

96Of course we all know Lady Blakeney.

97She was a schoolfellow of mine at the convent in Paris, interposed Suzanne, and we came over to England together to learn your language.

98I was very fond of Marguerite, and I cannot believe that she ever did anything so wicked.

99It certainly seems incredible, said Sir Andrew.

100You say that she actually denounced the Marquis de Saint-Cyr?

101Why should she have done such a thing?

102Surely there must be some mistake.

103No mistake is possible, monsieur, rejoined the comtesse coldly.

104Marguerite Saint-Just's brother is a noted Republican.

105There was some talk of a family feud between him and my cousin, the Marquis de Saint-Cyr.

106The Saint-Just's are quite plebeyan, and the Republican government employs many spies.

107I assure you there is no mistake.

108You had not heard this story?

109Faith, madame, I did hear some vague rumours of it, but in England no one would credit it.

110Sir Percy Blakeney, her husband, is a very wealthy man, of high social position, the intimate friend of the Prince of Wales.

111And Lady Blakeney leads both fashion and society in London.

112That may be, monsieur, and we shall, of course, lead a very quiet life in England.

113But I pray God that while I remain in this beautiful country, I may never meet Marguerite Saint-Just.

114The proverbial wet blanket seemed to have fallen over the merry little company gathered round the table.

115Suzanne looked sad and silent.

116Sir Andrew fidgeted uneasily with his fork, whilst the comtesse, encased in the plate armour of her aristocratic prejudices, sat rigid and unbending in her straight-backed chair.

117As for Lord Antony, he looked extremely uncomfortable, and glanced once or twice apprehensively towards Jellyband, who looked just as uncomfortable as himself.

118"'At what time do you expect Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney?' he contrived to whisper unobserved to mine host.

119"'Any moment, my lord,' whispered Jellyband in reply.

120Even as he spoke, a distant clatter was heard of an approaching coach.

121Louder and louder it grew.

122One or two shouts became distinguishable, than the rattle of horses' hooves on the uneven cobblestones.

123And the next moment a stable-boy had thrown open the coffee-room door, and rushed in excitedly.

124"'Sir Percy Blakeney and my lady!' he shouted at the top of his voice.

125"'They're just arriving!' And with more shouting, jingling of harness, and iron hoofs upon the stones, a magnificent coach, drawn by four superb bays, had halted outside the porch of the fisherman's rest.

126End of chapter 4