The Knight of Maison-Rouge_ A Novel of Marie Antoinette - Alexandre Dumas [108]
“But since I’ve found my faithful friend
My rotten luck will surely end.
“That’s pure Racine,1 not Lorin, so I hope you won’t complain this time.”
“What are you doing here, then, on patrol?” Maurice asked anxiously, now that everything made him jumpy.
“I’m heading a little expedition, my friend—in the interests of rebuilding our shattered reputation.”
He turned to his company: “Shoulder arms! Present arms! Arms up!” he bellowed. “Right now, children, the night isn’t dark enough. Chat among yourselves for a bit, we’ll do likewise.”
Turning back to Maurice, he said: “I learned two major items of news today at the section.”
“What?”
“The first is that we’ve begun to be suspect, you and I.”
“I know that. Next?”
“Ah! You know that!”
“Yes.”
“The second is that the whole carnation plot was directed by the Knight of Maison-Rouge.”
“I know that too.”
“But what you don’t know is that the carnation plot and the underground tunnel plot are one and the same.”
“I know that too.”
“Well, then, let’s move on to a third bit of news. This you don’t know—of that I’m sure. We are going to take the Knight of Maison-Rouge tonight.”
“Take the Knight of Maison-Rouge?”
“Yes.”
“So you’ve become a gendarme now?”
“No. But I am a patriot. A patriot dedicates himself to the nation. Now, the nation is abominably ravaged by this Knight of Maison-Rouge, who keeps heaping plot on plot. So the nation orders me, me, a patriot, to rid it of the said Knight of Maison-Rouge, who is embarrassing it horribly, and so I obey the nation.”
“Say what you like,” said Maurice, “it’s still strange you’re taking on such a commission.”
“I’m not taking it on, it’s been foisted on me. But anyway, I have to say, I’d have done anything to get the job. We need a masterstroke to rehabilitate ourselves, given that our rehabilitation means not only the safety of our existence but also the right to stick six inches of steel into the guts of the foul Simon at the first opportunity.”
“But how do they know it was the Knight of Maison-Rouge who headed the underground plot?”
“It’s still not entirely sure, but they’re assuming it was him.”
“Aha! You’re proceeding by induction?”
“We are proceeding by certainty.”
“How do you figure that? Eh? After all …”
“Listen well.”
“I’m listening.”
“Scarcely had I heard the shout go up: ‘Major conspiracy uncovered by Simon’—that turd Simon! He’s everywhere, the lousy mongrel!—than I decided to judge the truth for myself. There was talk about an underground tunnel.”
“Does it exist?”
“Oh, it exists! I’ve seen it.
“Seen, seen with my own eyes, which is called seeing.
“Hey! Why aren’t you booing?”
“Because that’s Molière,2 and because, I must confess, I find the circumstances a little too serious to joke.”
“Well, but what does one joke about if not about what’s serious?”
“You say you saw it.…”
“The underground tunnel … I repeat, I have seen the underground tunnel, I have been through it, and it ran from citizeness Plumeau’s cellar to a house in the rue de la Corderie, the house at number 12 or 14, I can’t quite remember which.”
“Really! You went through it?”
“The whole way, and a very nicely cut passageway it is too, I can tell you. It was divided by three iron grilles, which we had to remove one by one, but if the buggers had succeeded those grilles would have given them all the time they needed—all they had to do was sacrifice a few of their men to whisk Madame Widow Capet away to a secure place. Luckily things didn’t work out that way—and the foul Simon was also onto that.”
“But surely the first thing they should have done is arrest the inhabitants of the house in the rue de la Corderie.”
“And that’s exactly what they would have done if they hadn’t found the house completely devoid of occupants.”
“But surely the house belongs to someone?”
“Yes, to a new owner, but no one knew who it was. It was known that the house had changed hands two or three weeks ago, that’s all. The neighbors heard a bit of noise, of course, but they just thought it was repairs being carried