The Knight of Maison-Rouge_ A Novel of Marie Antoinette - Alexandre Dumas [92]
“Because I saw his municipal scarf and thought he might be heading to the Temple.”
“Who are your accomplices?”
“I have none.”
“What! You mean you planned the conspiracy all by yourself
If it is a conspiracy, I planned it all by myself.”
“But did citizen Maurice know about it? ”
“That the flowers contained notes?”
“Yes.”
“Citizen Maurice is a municipal officer; citizen Maurice could see the Queen in private any hour of the day or night. If citizen Maurice had something to say to the Queen, he had no need to write, since he could speak.”
“So you didn’t know citizen Maurice?”
“I used to see him on duty at the Temple in the days when I was there with my poor mother; but I only knew him by sight!”
“You see, you murderous swine!” Lorin cried, showing Simon his fist. Crushed by the turn things were taking, Simon put his head down as he tried to slip out unnoticed. “You see what you’ve done?”
All eyes turned on Simon in outrage.
The president resumed his questions.
“Since it was you who handed over the bouquet, since you knew each flower contained a piece of paper, you must also know what was written on the paper?”
“Of course I know.”
“Well then, in that case, tell us, what was on the paper?”
“Citizen,” said the girl firmly, “I’ve said all I can say, and, more to the point, all I want to say.”
“So you refuse to answer?”
“That’s right.”
“You know what you’re exposing yourself to?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you’re pinning your hopes on your youth and your beauty?”
“I am pinning my hopes on God alone.”
“Citizen Maurice Lindey,” said the president, “citizen Hyacinthe Lorin, you are free. The Commune recognizes your innocence and acknowledges your community spirit. Gendarmes, conduct citizeness Héloïse to the section prison at the Conciergerie.”1
At those words, Mother Tison seemed to snap out of her trance; she gave a terrible cry and rushed at her daughter to try to embrace her one more time. But the gendarmes stopped her.
“I forgive you, Mother,” cried the young woman as she was dragged away.
Mother Tison uttered a bloodcurdling scream and dropped to the ground as though dead.
“Noble girl!” murmured Morand in grief.
25
THE NOTE
A final scene was added to the events that we have just recounted, as though to complete the tragedy that began to unfold with this somber episode.
Mother Tison, destroyed by what had just happened, abandoned by those who had escorted her, for there is something heinous even in an involuntary crime—and it is quite a crime for a mother to kill her own child, even if it be through excessive patriotic zeal—Mother Tison, after staying absolutely dead still for some little time, raised her head and looked around her, unhinged. Observing that she was on her own, she gave a cry and rushed to the door.
A few curious souls, more relentless than the rest, were still camped at the door, but they moved aside as soon as they saw her, pointing at her and saying to one another: “You see that woman? She’s the one who denounced her own daughter.”
Mother Tison uttered a cry of despair and dashed off in the direction of the Temple. But a third of the way down the rue Michel-le-Comte, a man came and blocked her path. With his face hidden in his coat, he said: “Are you happy now? Now that you’ve killed your child?”
“Killed my child? Killed my child?” shrieked the poor mother. “No, no, I can’t have.”
“And yet you have, for your daughter has been arrested.”
“Where have they taken her?”
“To the Conciergerie; from there she’ll go to the Revolutionary Tribunal, and you know what happens to people who go there.”
“Get out of my way,” said Mother Tison. “Let me pass.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the Conciergerie.”
“What are you going to do there?”
“See her again.”
“They won’t let you in.”
“They’ll let me bed down at the door, live there, sleep there. I won’t budge until she comes out, and then I’ll see her again one more time at least.”
“What if someone promised to get you back your daughter?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m asking you, suppose a man were to promise to get you