The Knight of Maison-Rouge_ A Novel of Marie Antoinette - Alexandre Dumas [35]
This extremist, who seemed to hold violent political notions as befit his private conduct, was talking about the Temple; he expressed amazement that the guarding of the prisoners was left to permanent Council personnel, so easy to corrupt, and to municipal officers whose loyalty had already been tempted more than once.
“Yes,” said citizen Morand. “But you have to admit that, on every occasion, up till now, the conduct of the municipal officers has merited the confidence that the nation placed in them. History will show that it isn’t just Robespierre1 who deserves the name ‘Incorruptible.’ ”
“No doubt, no doubt,” the first man went on. “But just because something hasn’t yet happened, it’d be absurd to conclude that it never will. Same thing for the National Guard. The companies of the different sections are all called upon to take their turn at Temple duty, come what may. Well, don’t you accept that in a company of twenty to twenty-five men, there might be a handful of eight or ten perfectly determined thugs ready to cut the sentries’ throats one fine night and carry off the prisoners?”
“Nonsense!” said Maurice. “You realize, citizen, that’s not the way to go about it! They tried it three or four weeks ago and it didn’t work.”
“Right,” Morand went on. “But only because one of the aristocrats in the patrol was silly enough to let the word monsieur escape his lips when talking to someone or other.”
“And that,” said Maurice, keen to prove that the police of the Republic were well-chosen, “is because they’d already noted that the Knight of Maison-Rouge had slipped back into Paris.”
“Rubbish!” cried Dixmer.
“They knew that Maison-Rouge had slipped back into Paris?” Morand asked frostily. “And did they know how he got in?”
“Perfectly.”
“Hell!” said Morand, leaning forward to peer at Maurice. “I’d be curious to know how; until now, they haven’t been able to tell us anything definite about it. But, citizen, as secretary of one of the main sections of Paris, you must be better informed?”
“Naturally,” said Maurice. “And what I’m about to tell you is nothing but the truth.”
The whole table, including Geneviève, seemed suddenly to give Maurice their utmost attention.
“Well,” said Maurice, “the Knight of Maison-Rouge was coming from the Vendée,2 it seems. He crossed the whole of France with his usual ease and made it to the Roule checkpoint in daylight but waited till nine o’clock at night to get through. At nine o’clock at night, a woman disguised as a commoner exited by this checkpoint, taking the Knight the uniform of a chasseur of the National Guard. Ten minutes later, she came back—with him. The sentry, who’d seen her go through the first time alone, had his suspicions when he saw her coming back in with a man: he alerted the post, the post came running. But the guilty parties, having realized they were the target, darted into a hotel that opened a back door for them on the Champs Elysées. It appears that a patrol entirely devoted to the tyrants was waiting for the Knight on the corner of the rue Barre-du-Bec. You know the rest.”
“Ah!” said Morand. “That’s curious, what you’re telling us there.…”
“And particularly promising.”
“Yes, it would seem so; but the woman, do they know what happened to her?”
“No, the lady vanished and we don’t know who or what she is.”
Dixmer’s partner, and Dixmer himself, seemed to breathe easier. Geneviève had listened to the whole story, pale and silent and very, very still.
“But,” said citizen Morand in his usual frosty fashion, “who can say the Knight of Maison-Rouge was part of the patrol that alarmed the Temple?”
“A municipal officer friend of mine who was on Temple duty