The Knight of Maison-Rouge_ A Novel of Marie Antoinette - Alexandre Dumas [186]
Lorin broke off.
“Ah, that’s right, that’s right,” he said, “that’s right, I do want to get out. I knew very well I didn’t love anyone, but I forgot there’s someone I hate. What does your watch say, Maurice? The time!”
“Three-thirty.”
“I’ve got time, by jiminy! I’ve got time.”
“Of course,” cried Maurice. “There are nine accused left today, it won’t finish before five o’clock. So we have nearly two hours before us.”
“That’s all I need; give me your pass and lend me twenty sous.”4
“Oh! My God! What are you going to do?” murmured Geneviève.
Maurice shook his hand; all that mattered to him was that Lorin got out.
“I have an idea,” said Lorin.
Maurice pulled his purse out of his pocket and put it in his friend’s hand.
“And now the pass, for the love of God! I mean, for the love of the Eternal Being.”
Maurice handed him the pass. Lorin kissed Geneviève’s hand and, taking advantage of the moment when a batch of condemned were being brought to the office, leapt over the wooden benches and presented himself at the main door.
“Hey!” said a gendarme. “Here’s one trying to get away, looks like.” Lorin stood straight and presented his pass.
“Here, citizen, gendarme,” he said. “Try to be a better judge of people, next time.”
The gendarme recognized the registrar’s signature, but he belonged to that class of civil servants generally lacking in trust, and as it just so happened that the registrar was returning from the Tribunal at that very moment, shaking with a tremor that hadn’t left him since he had so recklessly risked his signature, the gendarme appealed to him.
“Citizen registrar,” he said, “here is a pass that an individual wants to use in order to leave the Hall of the Dead. Is the pass in order?”
The registrar went white with fright and, convinced that he would see the terrible figure of Dixmer if he looked up, he snatched the pass and hastened to reply.
“Yes, yes, that’s my signature, all right.”
“Well then,” said Lorin, “since it’s your signature, hand it back.”
“Not on your life,” said the registrar, tearing the pass into a thousand pieces. “Not on your life! These sorts of passes can only be used once.”
Lorin stood for a moment, undecided.
“Ah, too bad!” he said. “The main thing is that I kill him.”
And he raced out of the registrar’s office without further ado.
Maurice had gazed after Lorin with an emotion only too easy to imagine. As soon as Lorin had disappeared he said to Geneviève, “He’s saved!” with an exaltation akin to joy. “They tore up his pass, he can’t come back. And anyway, if he were to get back in somehow, the Tribunal session is nearly over; at five o’clock he’ll come back and we’ll be dead.”
Geneviève gave a sigh and shivered.
“Oh! Hold me in your arms,” she said. “We’ll never leave each other again.… God! Why can’t we be struck with the same blow and let out our last breath together!”
They withdrew to the remotest corner of the dark room; Geneviève snuggled close to Maurice and wrapped both arms around his neck; thus entwined, breathing the same breath, silencing in themselves all noise and thought, they reached a numb out-of-body state together through force of love, at the approach of death.
Half an hour ticked away.
55
WHY LORIN LEFT
Suddenly a great commotion was heard and gendarmes rushed in from the low door, trailing Sanson and his assistants behind them, carrying bundles of ropes.
“Oh! My friend, my friend!” cried Geneviève. “The fatal moment has come, I can feel myself faltering.”
“But you are wrong to,” broke out the ringing voice of Lorin:
“You are wrong, it seems to me,
For death itself spells liberty.”
“Lorin!” wailed Maurice in despair.
“That wasn’t so good, was it? I’m with you. Since yesterday I’ve been coming up with the most pathetic lines.…”
“Ah! As though that’s the issue. You came back,