The Knight of Maison-Rouge_ A Novel of Marie Antoinette - Alexandre Dumas [145]
When the door was shut behind her and when, by the light of a single candle suspended by a length of wire in such a cunning way that the light could be shared by both tables, the man with the fur cap at last could see, thanks to the mirror facing him, that the room was perfectly deserted, he spoke.
“Good evening,” he said to his companion without looking round.
“Good evening, monsieur,” said the newcomer.
“Well then,” the patriot asked, affecting the same indifference, “where are we?”
“Well then, we’re done.”
“What’s done?”
“As we agreed, I picked a fight with old man Richard over my duties, I said I was hard of hearing and had my dizzy spells, and I keeled over in the middle of the office.”
“Good stuff; and then?”
“And then old man Richard called his wife and his wife rubbed my temples with vinegar, which brought me around.”
“Good! After that?”
“After that, as we agreed between ourselves, I said it was the lack of air that gave me these dizzy spells, given my sanguine temperament, and that the work at the Conciergerie, where there are four hundred inmates at the moment, was killing me.”
“What did they say?”
“Mother Richard felt sorry for me.”
“And old man Richard?”
“He showed me the door.”
“But it’s not enough that he showed you the door
Wait a second: then Mother Richard, who’s a good woman, balled him out for having no heart, seeing as I’ve got a family to feed.”
“And what did he say to that?”
“He said she was right, but that the first requirement for being a wicket clerk was to remain in the prison to which he was attached; that the Republic meant business; and that it cut the heads off anyone who had dizzy spells in the exercise of their duties.”
“Lord!” exclaimed the patriot.
“And he was not wrong, old man Richard; since the Austrian woman’s been there, surveillance has gotten out of hand. The fellows in there would look twice at their own fathers.”
The patriot gave his plate to the dog to lick, and the dog got bitten by the cat.
“Get on with it,” he said.
“To make a long story short, monsieur, I started moaning and groaning, which means I was really sick. I asked for the nurse and assured them my children would die of starvation if my pay was stopped.”
“And old man Richard?”
“Old man Richard said that when you are a wicket clerk, you don’t make babies.”
“But Mother Richard was on your side, I suppose?”
“Luckily! She kicked up quite a stink and attacked him for having no heart, and old man Richard ended up saying to me: ‘Well then, citizen Gracchus, see if you can make a deal with one of your pals who can give you something as a guarantee; send him to me as your replacement and I promise you I’ll see he’s accepted.’ At that I left, saying: ‘Say no more, old man Richard, I’ll find someone.’ ”
“And did you find someone, my brave boy?”
At that moment the mistress of the establishment returned with citizen Gracchus’s soup and pot of rotgut. Neither Gracchus nor the patriot took any notice; but they were not done yet.
“Citizeness,” said the clerk, “I got a small bonus from old man Richard today, so I can afford the pork chop with gherkins and the bottle of Burgundy. Send your servant out to the butcher’s for the chop and go and get me the wine from your cellar, will you?”
The hostess immediately gave the command; a servant slipped out the door into the street, and the hostess through the door to the cellar.
“All right,” said the patriot. “You’re a smart boy.”
“So smart that I’m not fooling myself what’s in store for both of us, whatever you like to promise me. Do you have any idea what we’re risking?”
“Yes, perfectly.”
“Our necks are both on the block!”
“Don’t you worry about mine.”
“It’s not your neck, monsieur, I have to admit, that’s giving me the most worry.”
“It’s your own?”
“Yes.”
“But if I’m paying twice what it’s worth …”
“Steady on, monsieur! A neck is a very precious thing—and so’s the head that’s on it.”
“Yours is not.”
“What! Mine