 Book 6 Chapter 1 of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Ortsy. Book 6. Jean Pierre met the Scarlet Pimpernel, as told by himself. Chapter 1. Ah Moncier, the pity of it. The pity. Surely there are sins which Le Bon Dieu himself will condone. And if not, well, I had to risk his displeasure anyhow. Could I see them both, star Moncier? I ask you. And Moncier Lévi-Cant had become so thin, so thin, his tiny delicate bones were almost through his skin. And Madame Les Marquesas and Angel Moncier. Why, in the happy olden days, before all these traitors and assassins ruled in France, Moncier and Madame Moselle Les Marquesas lived only for the child. And then to see him dying. Yes, dying. There was no shutting one's eyes to that awful fact. Moncier Lévi-Cant des Mortaines was dying of starvation and of disease. There we were, all herded together in a couple of attics, one of which little more than a cupboard, at the top of a dilapidated, half-ruined house in the rue des Pépots. Madame Les Marquesas, Moncier Lévi-Cant and I, just think of that, Moncier. Moncier Lémarquis had his chateau, as no doubt you know, on the outskirts of Lyon. A loyal high-born gentleman. Was it likely, I ask you, that he would submit passively to the rule of those excruble revolutionaries who had murdered their king, outraged their queen and royal family, and God helped them, had already perpetrated every crime and every abomination for which of a truth there could be no pardon either on earth or in heaven? He joined that plucky, but a last small and ill-equipped army of royalists who, unable to save their king, were at least determined to avenge him. Well, you know well enough what happened. The counter-revolution failed. The revolutionary army brought Lyon down to her knees after a siege of two months. She was then marked down as a rebel city, and after the abominable decree of October 9th had deprived her of her very name, and Coutan had exacted bloody reprisals from the entire population for its loyalty to the king, the infamous Laporte was sent down in order finally to stamp out the lingering remnants of the rebellion. By that time once here, half the city had been burned down, and one-tenth or more of the inhabitants, men, women, and children, had been massacred in cold blood, whilst most of the others had fled in terror from the appalling scene of ruin and desolation. Laporte completed the excreable work, so ably begun by Coutan. He was a very celebrated and skillful doctor at the Faculty of Medicine, now turned into a human hyena in the name of liberty and fraternity. Monsieur Le Marquis contrived to escape with the scattered remnant of the royalist army into Switzerland. But Madame Le Marquise, throughout all these strenuous times, had stuck to her post at the chateau, like the valiant creature she was. When Coutan entered Lyon at the head of the revolutionary army, the whole of her household fled, and I was left alone to look after her and Monsieur Le Vicon. Then one day, when I had gone into Lyon for provisions, I suddenly chanced to hear outside an eating-house that which nearly froze the marrow in my old bones. A captain belonging to the revolutionary guard was transmitting to his sergeant certain orders, which he had apparently just received. The orders were to make a perquisition at ten o'clock this same evening in the chateau of Montaigne, as the Marquis was supposed to be in hiding there, and in any event to arrest every man, woman, and child who was found within its walls. Citizen Le Porte, the captain concluded, knows for a certainty that the sea-devant Marquise and her brat are still there, even if the Marquis has fled like the traitor that he is. Those cursed English spies who call themselves the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel have been very active in Lyon of late, and Citizen Le Porte is afraid that they might cheat the guillotine of the carcass of those aristos, as they have already succeeded in doing in the case of a large number of traitors. I did not, of course, wait to hear any more of that abominable talk. I sped home as fast as my old legs would carry me. That self-same evening, as soon as it was dark, Madame La Marquise, carrying Monsieur Le Vicant in her arms, and I, carrying a pack with a few necessaries on my back, left the ancestral home of the Mortaines never to return to it again. For within an hour of our flight, a detachment of the Revolutionary Army made a dissent upon the chateau. They ransacked it from attic to cellar, and finding nothing there to satisfy their lust of hate, they burned the stately mansion down to the ground. We were obliged to take refuge in Lyon at any rate for a time. Great was the danger inside the city. It was infinitely greater on the high roads unless we could arrange for some vehicle to take us a considerable part of the way through the frontier, and above all for some of the passports, forged or otherwise, to enable us to pass the various toll gates on the road, where vigilance was very strict. So we wandered through the ruined and deserted streets of the city in search of shelter, but found every charred and derelict house full of miserable tramps and desitutes like ourselves. Half dead with fatigue, Madame La Marquise was at last obliged to take refuge in one of those houses which was situated in the Rue des Pépoles. Every room was full to overflowing with a miserable wreckage of humanity, thrown hither by the tide of anarchy and of bloodshed. But at the top of the house we found an attic. It was empty, saved for a couple of chairs, a table, and a broken down bedstead, on which there was a ragged mattress and pillow. Here, Montseur, we spent over three weeks. At the end of which time, Montseur-les-Vicontes fell ill, and then there followed days, Montseur, through which I would not like my worst enemy to pass. Madame La Marquise had only been able to carry away in her flight what ready money she happened to have in the house at the time. Securities, property, money belonging to the aristocrats had been ruthlessly confiscated by the revolutionary government in Lyon. Our scanty resources rapidly became exhausted, and what was left had to be kept for milk and delicacies for Montseur-les-Vicontes. I tramped through the streets in search of a doctor, but most of them had been arrested on some paltry charge or other of rebellion, whilst others had fled from the city. There was only that infamous La Porte, a vastly clever doctor I knew, but as soon take a lamb to a hungry lion as the Vicontes martained to that bloodthirsty cutthroat. Then one day our last Frank went, and we had nothing left. Madame La Marquise had not touched food for two days. I had stood at the corner of the street, begging all the day until I was driven off by the gendarmes. I had only obtained three souses from the passers-by. I bought some milk and took it home for Montseur-les-Vicontes. The following morning when I entered the larger attic I found that Madame La Marquise had fainted from inination. I spent the whole of the day begging in the streets and dodging the guard, and even so I only collected four souses. I could have got more, perhaps, only that at about midday the smell of food from an eating house turned me sick and faint. And when I regained consciousness I found myself huddled up under a doorway and evening gathering in fast around me. If Madame La Marquise could go two days without food, I ought to go four. I struggled to my feet. Fortunately, I had retained possession of my four souses. Else of a truth, I would not have had the courage to go back to the miserable attic, which was the only home I knew. I was winding my way along as fast as I could, for I knew that Madame La Marquise would be getting terribly anxious when, just as I turned into the roux blanche, I spied two gentlemen, obviously strangers, for they were dressed with a luxury and care with which we had long ceased to be familiar in the home, walking rapidly towards me. A moment or two later they came to a halt, not far from where I was standing, and I heard the taller one of the two say to the other in English, a language with which I am vaguely conversant. All right, again this time? What, Tony? Both left merrily like a couple of schoolboys playing truant, and then they disappeared under the doorway of a dilapidated house. Whilst I was left wondering how two such elegant gentlemen dared to be abroad in Lyon these days, seeing that every man, woman and child who was dressed in anything but threadbare clothes was sure to be insulted in the streets for an aristocrat, and as often as not, summarily arrested as a traitor. However, I had other things to think about, and had already dismissed the little incident from my mind when at the bottom of the roue blanche I came upon a knot of gaffers, men and women who were talking and gesticulating very excitedly outside the door of a cook shop. At first I did not take much notice of what was said. My eyes were glued to the front of the shop, on which were displayed sundry delicacies of the kind which makes a wretched, starved beggar's mouth water as he goes by. A roast capon especially attracted my attention. Together with a bottle of red wine, these looked just the sort of luscious food which Madame La Marchesa would relish. Well, sir, the law of God says, thou shalt not covet, and no doubt that I committed a grievous sin when my hungry eyes fastened upon that roast capon and that bottle of burgundy. We also know the stories of Judas Iscariot and of Jacob's children who sold their own brother Joseph into slavery. Such a crime one, sir. I took upon my conscience then, for just as the vision of Madame La Marchesa eating that roast capon and drinking that burgundy rose before my eyes, my ears caught some fragments of the excited conversation which was going on all around me. He went this way, someone said. No, that protested another. There's no sign of him now anyway. The owner of the shop was standing on his own doorstep. His legs wide apart, one arm on his wide hip, the other still brandishing the knife wherewith he had been carving for his customers. The impudent rascal flaunting such fine clothes like the aristote that he is. Bah, these cursed English. They are aristos all of them and this one with his followers is more than a spy. Paid by that damned English government to murder all our patriots and to rob the guillotine of her just dues. They say he had a hand in the escape of the Cedavans, Dieu desermus, and all his brats from the very tumble which was taking them to execution. A cry of loathing and execration followed this statement. There was vigorous shaking of clenched fists and then a groan of baffled rage. What had him this time? If it had not been for these confounded ill-lighted streets, I would give something, concluded the shopkeeper, if we could lay him by the heels. What would you give, citizen Dompierre, queried the woman in the crowd with a ribald lap, one of your roast capons? I, little mother, he replied jovially, and a bottle of my best burgundy taboo to drink confusion to that middle some Englishman and his crowd and a speedy promenade of the steps of the guillotine. Montseur, I assure you that at that moment my heart absolutely stood still. The tempter stood at my elbow and whispered, and I delicately smothered the call of my conscience. I did what Joseph's brethren did, what brought Judas Iscariot to hopeless remorse. There was no doubt that the hue and cry was after the two elegantly dressed gentlemen whom I had seen enter the dilapidated house in the rue Blanche. For a second or two I closed my eyes and deliberately conjured up the vision of Madame La Marquise fainting for lack of food and of Montseur-les-Vicombe dying for want of sustenance. Then I worked my way to the door of the shop and accosted the burly proprietor with as much boldness as I could muster. The two Englishmen passed by me at the top of the rue Blanche, I said to him. They went into a house. I wanted to show you which it is. In a moment I was surrounded by a screeching, gesticulating crowd. I told my story as best I could. There was no turning back now from the path of cowardice and of crime. I saw that brute Dompier pick up the largest roast capon from the front of his shop together with a bottle of that wine which I had coveted. Then he thrust both these treasures into my trembling hands and said, And we all started to run up the street shouting, Death to the English spies! I was the hero of the expedition. Dompier and another man carried me for I was too weak to go as fast as they wished. I was hugging the capon and the bottle of wine to my heart. I had need to do that so as to still the insistent call of my conscience for I felt a coward, a mean, treacherous, abominable coward. When we reached the house and I pointed it out to Dompier, the crowd behind us gave a cry of triumph. In the topmost story a window was thrown open, two heads appeared silhouetted against the light within, and a cry of triumph below was answered by a merry prolonged laugh from above. I was two days to realize very clearly what happened after that. Dompier I know kicked open the door of the house and the crowd rushed in in his wake. I managed to keep my feet and to work my way gradually out of the crowd. I must have gone on mechanically, almost unconsciously, for the next thing that I remember with any distinctness was that I found myself once more speeding down the roue blanche with all the yelling and shouting some little way behind me. With blind instinct too I had clung to the capon and the wine, the price of my infamy. I was terribly weak and felt sick and faint, but I struggled on for a while until my knees refused me service and I came down on my two hands whilst the capon rolled away into the gutter and the bottle of burgundy fell with a crash against the pavement, scattering its precious contents in every direction. There I lay, wretched, despairing, hardly able to move when suddenly I heard rapid and firm footsteps immediately behind me and firm hands had me under the arms and I heard a voice saying steady old friend, can you get up? There, is that better? The same firm hands raised me to my feet. At first I was two days to see anything but after a moment or two I was able to look around and by the light of a street lantern immediately overhead I recognized the tall, elegantly dressed Englishman and his friend whom I had just betrayed or in a savage mob. I thought that I was dreaming and I suppose that my eyes betrayed the horror which I felt for the stranger looked at me scrutinizingly for a moment or two then he gave the quaintest laugh I had ever heard in all my life and said something to his friend in English which this time I failed to understand. By my faith he said in perfect French so that I began to doubt that my reasoning was by after all. I verily believe that you are the clever rogue who obtained a roast capon and a bottle of wine from that fool Dompier. He and his boon companions are venting their wrath on you old Dompier. They are calling you liar and traitor and cheat in the intervals of wrecking what is left of the house out of which my friend and I have long since escaped by climbing up the neighboring gutter pipes and scrambling over the adjoining roofs. Monsieur, will you believe me when I say that he was actually saying all this in order to comfort me? I could have sworn to that because of the wonderful kindness which is shown out of his eyes even through the good-humored mockery wherewith he obviously regarded me. Do you know what I did then Monsieur? I just fell on my knees and loudly thanked God that he was safe at which both he and his friend once again began to laugh for all the world like two schoolboys who had escaped the whipping rather than two men who were still threatened with death. Then it was you, said the taller stranger who was still laughing so heartily that he had to wipe his eyes with his exquisite lace handkerchief. May God forgive me, I replied. The next moment his arm was again round me. I clung to him as to a rock. For of a truth I had never felt a grasp so steady and with all so gentle and kindly as was his around my shoulders. I tried to murmur words of thanks, but again that wretched feeling of sickness and faintness overcame me, and for a second or two it seemed to me as if I were slipping into another world. The stranger's voice came to my ear as it were through cotton wool. The man is starving, he said. Shall we take him over to your lodgings, Tony? They are safer than mine. He may be able to walk in a minute or two. If not, I can carry him. My senses at this partly returned to me, and I was able to protest feebly. No, no, I must go back. I must, kind sirs. Madame Les Marquesas will be getting so anxious. No sooner were these foolish words out of my mouth than I could have bitten my tongue out for having uttered them. And yet, somehow, it seemed as if it was the stranger's magnetic personality, his magic voice and kindly act towards me, who had so basely sold him to his enemies, which had drawn them out of him. He gave a low prolonged whistle. Madame Les Marquesas, he queried dropping his voice to a whisper, now to have uttered Madame Les Marquesas de Montaigne's name here in Lyon, where every aristocrat was termed a traitor and sent without trial to the guillotine, was in itself an act of criminal folly. And yet, you may believe me most here, or not, there was something within me just at that moment that literally compelled me to open my heart out to this stranger, whom I had so basely betrayed and who requited my abominable crime with such gentleness and mercy. Before I fully realized what I was doing most here, I had blurted out the whole history of Madame Les Marquesas' flight and a Montserlais Veclant's sickness to him. He drew me under the cover of an open doorway and he and his friend listened to me without speaking a word until I had told them my pitiable tale to the end. When I had finished, he said quietly, take me to see Madame Les Marquesas, old friend. Who knows, perhaps I may be able to help. Then he turned to his friend. Will you wait for me at my lodging's, Tony, he said, and let folks and Hastings know that I may wish to speak with him on my return? He spoke like one who had been accustomed all his life to give command and I marveled how his friend immediately obeyed him. Then when the latter had disappeared down the dark street, the stranger once more turned to me. Lean on my arm, good old friend, he said, and we must try and walk as quickly as we can. The sooner we allay the anxieties of Madame Les Marquesas, the better. I was still hugging the roast capon with one arm with the other I clung to him as together we walked in the direction of the rude people. On the way, we halted at a respectable eating house where my protector gave me some money wherewith to buy a bottle of good wine and sundry provisions and delicacies which we carried home with us. End of Book 6, Chapter 1 Book 6, Chapter 2 of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Ortsey Book 6 How Jean Pierre met the Scarlet Pimpernel, as told by himself. Chapter 2 Never shall I forget the look of horror which came in Madame Les Marquesas' eyes when she saw me entering our miserable attic in the company of a stranger. The last of the little bit of tallow candle flickered in its socket. Madame threw her emaciated arms over her child, just like some poor hunted animal defending its young. I could almost hear the cry of terror which died down in her throat, ere it reached her lips. But then, Montseur, to see the light of hope gradually illuminating her pale, wan face, as the stranger took her hand and spoke to her, oh, so gently and so kindly, was a sight which filled my poor, half-broken heart with joy. The little invalid must be seen by a doctor at once, he said. After that only can we think of your ultimate safety. Madame Les Marquesas, who herself was terribly weak and ill, burst out crying. Would I not have taken him to a doctor air now? She murmured through her tears. But there is no doctor in Lyon. Those who have not been arrested as traitors have fled from this stricken city. And my little Jose is dying for want of medical care. You're pardoned, Madame, he rejoined gently. One of the ablest doctors in France is that present in Lyon. That infamous Laporte, she broke in horrified, he would snatch my sick child from my arms and throw him to the guillotine. He would save your boy from disease, said the stranger earnestly. His own professional pride or professional honor, whatever he might choose to call it, would compel him to do that. But the moment the doctor's work was done, that of the executioner would commence. You see, Milord, Monde Madame and pitiable Agony, that there is no hope for us. Indeed there is, he replied. We must get Monsieur Lévi-Cant well first. After that we shall see. But you are not proposing to bring that infamous Laporte to my child's bedside, she cried in horror. Would you have your child die here before your eyes retorted the stranger, as he undoubtedly will this night? This sounded horribly cruel, and the tone in which it was said was commanding. There was no denying its truth. Monsieur Lévi-Cant was dying. I could see that, for a moment or two Madame remained quite still, with her great eyes circled with pain and sorrow, fixed upon the stranger. He returned her gaze steadily and kindly, and gradually that frozen look of horror in her pale face gave place to one of deep puzzlement, and through her bloodless lips there came the words faintly murmured, Who are you? He gave no direct reply, but from his little finger he detached a ring and held it out for her to see. I saw it too, for I was standing close by Madame La Marquesa, and the flickering light of the tallow candle fell full upon the ring. It was of gold and upon it there was an exquisitely modelled, five-cuddled little flower in vivid red enamel. Madame La Marquesa looked at the ring, then once again up into his face. He nodded ascent, and my heart seemed even then to stop its beating as I gazed upon his face. Had we not, all of us, heard of the gallant Scarlet Pimpernel, and did I not know far better than Madame La Marquesa herself, the full extent of his gallantry and self-sacrifice? The hue and cry was after him. Human bloodhounds were even now on his track, and he spoke calmly of walking out again in the streets of Lyon, and of affronting that infamous La Porte, who would find glory in sending him to death. I think he guessed what was passing in my mind, for he put a finger up to his lip and pointed significantly to Monsieur Le Vicon. It was beautiful to see how completely Madame La Marquesa now trusted him. At his bidding, she even ate a little of the food and drank some wine, and I was forced to do likewise. And even when anon, he declared his intention of fetching La Porte immediately, she did not flinch. She kissed Monsieur Le Vicon with passionate verveur, and then gave the stranger her solemn promise that the moment he returned, she would take refuge in the next room and move out of it until after La Porte had departed. When he went, I followed him to the top of the stairs. I was speechless with gratitude and also with fears for him. But he took my hand and said, with that same quaint, somewhat inane laugh which was so characteristic of him, be of good cheer, old fellow. Those confounded murderers will not get me this time. End of Book 6, Chapter 2 Book 6, Chapter 3 of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Ortsey Book 6, how Jean-Pierre met the Scarlet Pimpernel as told by himself. Chapter 3 Less than half an hour later, Montseur-Citizen-LaPorte, one of the most skillful doctors in France and one of the most bloodthirsty tyrants this execrable revolution has known, was sitting at the bedside of Montseur-Lévi-Conc des Mortaines using all the skill, all the knowledge he possessed in order to combat the dread disease of which the child was dying. There he came to save him, as he sanically remarked in my hearing, for the guillotine. He heard afterwards how it all came about. LaPorte, it seems, was in the habit of seeing patients in his own house, every evening after he had settled all his business for the day. What a strange contradiction in the human heart, eh, Montseur? The tiger turned lamb for the space of one hour and every twenty-four. The butcher turned healer. How well the English millore had gauged the strange personality of that redoubtable man. Professional pride, interest in intricate cases, call it what you will, was the only redeeming feature in LaPorte's abominable character. Everything else in him, every thought, every action, was ignoble, cruel, and vengeful. He lured that night mingled with the crowds who waited on the human hyena to be cured of their hurts. It was a motley crowd that filled the dreaded pro-councils anti-chamber, men, women, and children, all of them too preoccupied with their own troubles to bestow more than a cursory glance on the stranger who, wrapped in a dark mantle, quietly awaited his turn. One or two muttered curses were flung at the aristo, one or two spat in his direction to express hatred and contempt. Then the door which gave on the inner chamber would be flung open, a number called. One patient would walk out, and in the ever-recurring incident the stranger for the months was forgotten. His turn came, his number being called. It was the last on the list, and the anti-chamber was now quite empty, save for him. He walked into the presence of the pro-council. Claude Le Moyne, who was on guard in the room at the time, told me that just for the space of two seconds, the two men looked on one another. They looked quietly. There's a child dying of fluricy, or worse, in an attic in the rude AP pole. There's not a doctor left in Leone to attend on him, and the child will die for want of medical skill. Will you come to him, Citizen Doctor? It seems that for a moment or two, Laporte hesitated. You look to me uncommonly like an aristo and therefore a traitor, he said, and I have half a mind to call in your guard and order my immediate arrest, broke in Millor with a whimsical smile. But in that case, a citizen of France will die for want of a doctor's care. Let me take you to the child's bedside, Citizen Doctor, and you can always have me arrested afterwards. But Laporte still hesitated. How do I know that you are not one of those English spies, he began? But I am rejoin Millor, imperturbably, and come and see the patient. Never had a situation been carried off with so bold a hand. Claude Le Moine declared that Laporte's mouth literally opened for the call, which would have summoned the sergeant of the guard into the room and ordered the summary arrest of this impudent stranger. During the various fraction of a second, life and death hung in the balance in the heart of Laporte, every evil passion fought the one noble fiber within him. But the instinct of the skillful healer won the battle, and the next moment he hastily collected what medicaments and appliances he might require, and the two men were soon speeding along the streets in the direction of the Rue des Pôts. During the whole of that night, Millor and Laporte sat together by the bedside of Monsieur les Vicants. Laporte only went out once in order to fetch what further medicaments he required. Madame La Marquesa took the opportunity of running out of her hiding-place in order to catch a glimpse of her child. I saw her take Millor's hand and press it against her heart in silent gratitude. On her knees she begged him to go away and leave her and the boy to their fate. Was it likely that he would go? But she was so insistent and said, Madame, let me assure you that even if I were prepared to play the coward's part, which you would assign to me, it is not in my power to do so at this moment. Citizen Laporte came to this house under the escort of six picked men of his guard. He has left those men stationed on the landing outside this door. Madame La Marquesa gave a cry of terror, and once more that pathetic look Millor took her hand and then pointed to the sick child. Madame, he said, Monsieur Le Vicant is already slightly better, thanks to medical skill and the child's vigorous hold on life, he will live. The rest is in the hands of God. Already the heavy footsteps of Laporte were heard upon the creaking stairs. Madame La Marquesa was forced to return to her hiding-place. Soon after dawn he went. Monsieur Le Vicant was then visibly easier. Laporte had all along paid no heed to me, but I noticed that once or twice during his long vigil by the sick bed his dark eyes beneath their overhanging brows shot a quick suspicious look at the door behind which cowered Madame La Marquesa. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind then that he knew quite well who his patient was. He gave certain directions to Millor. He had taken fresh medicaments to begot during the day. While he spoke there was a sinister glint in his eyes, half cynical, wholly menacing as he looked into the calm and passive face of Millor. It is essential for the welfare of the patient that these medicaments begot for him during the day, he said dryly, and the guard have orders to allow you to pass in and out. But you need have no fear, he added significantly. You can escort outside the house to accompany you on your way. He gave a mocking, cruel laugh, the meaning of which was unmistakable. His well-drilled human bloodhounds would be on the track of the English by whenever the latter dared to venture out into the streets. Madame La Marquesa and I were prisoners for the day. We spent it in watching alternately beside Montsur-les-Vicons. But Millor came and went as freely as if he had not been carrying his precious life in his hands every time that he ventured outside the house. In the evening La Porte returned to see his patient, and again the following morning, and the next evening. Montsur-les-Vicons was making rapid progress toward recovery. The third day, in the morning, La Porte pronounced his patient to be out of danger, but said that he would nevertheless come again to see him at the usual hour in the evening. Directly he had gone. Millor went out in order to bring certain delicacies, of which the invalid was now allowed to partake. I persuaded Madame to lie down and have a couple of hours good sleep in the inner attic while I stayed to watch over the child. To my horror, hardly had I taken up my stand at the foot of the bed when La Porte returned. He muttered something as he entered about having left some important time, but I was quite convinced that he had been on the watch until Millor was out of sight, and then slipped back in order to find me and Madame here alone. He gave a glance at the child and another at the door of the inner attic. Then he said in a loud voice, Yes, another 24 hours, and my duties as doctor will cease, and those of patriot will recommence. But Madame La Marquesa de Montaigne need no longer be in any anxiety about her son's health, nor will Madame La Guillotine be cheated of a pack of rebels. He laughed and was on the point of turning on his heel when the door which gave on the smaller attic was opened and Madame La Marquesa appeared upon the threshold. Montaigne, I had never seen her look more beautiful than she did now in her overwhelming grief. Her face was as pale as death, her eyes large and dilated, were fixed upon the human monster who had found it in his heart to speak such cruel words. Clad in a miserable threadbare gown, her rich brown hair brought to the top of her head like a crown, she looked more regal than any queen. But proud as she was, Montaigne she yet knelt at the feet of that wretch. Yes, knelt and embraced his knees and pleaded in such pitiable accents as would have melted the heart of a stone. She pleaded, Montaigne, ah, not for herself. She pleaded for her child and for me, her faithful servant. And she pleaded for the gallant gentleman who had risked his life for the sake of the child, who was nothing to him. Take me, she said. I come of a race that have always known how to die. But what harm has that innocent child done in this world? Is the world so full of brave and noble men that the bravest of them all be so unjustly sent to death? Ah, Montaigne, any man save one of those abject products of that hideous revolution would have listened to such heart-rending accents. But this man only laughed and turned on his heel without a word. Shall I ever forget the day that went by? Madame La Marquese was well terrified of terror. And it was heart-rending to watch the noble efforts which she made to amuse Monsieur Le Vicon. The only gleams of sunshine which came to us out of our darkness were the brief appearances of Milaure. Outside we could hear the measured tramp of the guard that had been set there to keep us close prisoners. They were relieved every six hours and, in fact, we were as much under arrest as if we were already in the hands of Leon. At about four o'clock in the afternoon Milaure came back to us after a brief absence. He stayed for a little while playing with Monsieur Le Vicon. Just before leaving he took Madame's hand and said very earnestly and syncing his voice to the merest whisper. Tonight, fear nothing. Be ready for anything. Remember that the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel to succour, and that I hereby pledge you mine honour that you and those you care for will be out of Leon this night. He was gone, leaving us to marvel at his strange words. Madame La Marquesa, after that, was just like a person in a dream. She hardly spoke to me and the only sound that passed her lips was a quaint little lullaby which she sang to Monsieur Le Vicon ere he dropped off to sleep. The hours went by leaden footed. At every sound on the stairs Madame started like a frightened bird. That infamous La Porte usually paid his visits at about eight o'clock in the evening. And after it became quite dark Madame sat at the tiny window and I felt that she was counting the minutes which still lay between her and the dreaded presence of that awful man. At a quarter before eight o'clock we heard the usual heavy footfall on the stairs. Madame started up as if she had been struck. She ran to the bed almost like one demented and wrapping the one poor blanket round Monsieur Le Vicon she seized him in her arms. Outside we could hear La Porte's raucous voice speaking to the guard. His usual query is all well? And was answered with the brief all well citizen. Then he asked if the English spy had replied, no citizen. He went out at about five o'clock and has not come back since. Not come back since five o'clock said La Porte with a loud curse. Pardee I trust that that fool Coutty has not allowed him to escape. I saw Coutty about an hour ago citizens said the man. Did he say anything about the Englishman then? It seemed to us who were listening to this conversation with bated breath that the man hesitated a moment ere he replied. Then he spoke with obvious nervousness. As a matter of fact citizen he said Coutty thought then that the Englishman was inside the house. Whilst I was equally sure that I had seen him go downstairs an hour before. A thousand devils cried La Porte with a savage oath. If I find that you citizen sergeant or Coutty have blundered there will be trouble for you. To the accompaniment of a great deal more swearing he suddenly kicked open the door of the attic with his boot and then came to a standstill on the threshold with his hands in the pocket of his breeches and his legs planted wide apart face to face with Madame La Marquesa who confronted him now herself like a veritable tigress who is defending her young. He gave a loud mocking laugh. Ah, the aristose he cried waiting for that cursed Englishman. What? To drag you and your brat out of the claws of the human tiger. Not so, my fine sea-devant Marquesa. The brat is no longer sick. He is well enough anyhow to breathe the air of the prisons of Lyon for a few days pending a final rest in the arms of Madame La Guillotine. Citizen sergeant he called over his shoulder escorted these aristose to my carriage downstairs. When the Englishman returns tell him he will find his friends under the tender care of Dr. La Porte. In avant, little mother he added as he gripped Madame La Marquesa tightly by the arm and you old scarecrow he concluded speaking to me over his shoulder follow the citizen sergeant or Madame La Marquesa made no resistance. As I told you she had been since dusk like a person in a dream so what could I do but follow her noble example indeed I was two days to do otherwise. We all went stumbling down the dark rickety staircase La Porte leading the way with Madame La Marquesa who had Monsieur Le Vicant tightly clasped in her arms I followed with the sergeant whose hand was on my shoulder I believe that two soldiers walked behind I cannot be sure. At the bottom of the stairs through the open door of the house I caught sight of the vague outline of a large barouche the lanterns of which threw a feeble light upon the croppers of the two horses and of a couple of men sitting on the box. Madame La Marquesa stepped quietly into the carriage La Porte followed her and I was bundled in his wake by the rough hands of the soldier just before the order was given to start La Porte put his head out of the window and shouted to the sergeant when you see Caudy tell him to report himself to me at once I will be back here in half an hour keep strict guard as before until then, citizen sergeant the next moment the coachman cracked his whip La Porte called loudly and avant and the heavy barouche went rattling along the ill-paved streets inside the carriage all was silence I could hear Madame La Marquesa softly whispering to Monsieur Les Vicants and I marveled how wondrously calm nay cheerful she could be then suddenly I heard a sound of which truth did make my heart stop its beating it was a quaint and prolonged laugh which I once thought I would never hear again on this earth it came from the corner of the barouche next to where Madame La Marquesa was so tenderly and gaily crooning to her child and a kindly voice said merrily in half an hour we shall be outside Lyon tomorrow we'll be across the Swiss frontier you've cheated that old tiger after all what say you Madame La Marquesa it was Millor's voice and he was as merry as a schoolboy I told you old Jean Pierre he added as he placed that firm hand which I loved so well upon my knee I told you that those confounded figures would not get me this time and to think that I did not know him as he stood less than a quarter of an hour ago upon the threshold of our attic in the hideous disguise of that abominable La Port he had spent two days in collecting old clothes that resembled those of that infamous wretch and in taking possession of one of the derelict rooms in the house in the rude people then while we were expecting every moment the port would order our arrest Millor assumed the personality of that monster hoodwinked the sergeant on the dark staircase and by that wonderfully audacious coup saved Madame La Marquesa Monsieur Le Vicant and my humble self from the guillotine money of which he had plenty secured us immunity on the way and we were safely over the Swiss frontier leaving La Port to eat out his tigerish heart with baffled rage End of Chapter 3 and end of Book 6 Jean Pierre met the Scarlet Pimpernel as told by himself Book 7 of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Rebecca Case The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orski Book 7 out of the jaws of death being a fragment from the diary of Valentine La Mercier in the possession of her great-granddaughter We were such a happy family before this terrible revolution broke out We lived rather simply but very comfortably in our dear old home just on the borders of the forest of Campagnet Jean and André were the twins just 15 years old they were when King Louis was deposed from the throne of France which God had given him and sent to prison like a common criminal and our beautiful Queen Marie Antoinette and the royal children and Madame Elizabeth who was so beloved by the poor Ah! That seems very, very long ago now No doubt you know better than I do all that happened in our beautiful land of France in lovely Paris about that time Goods and property confiscated Innocent men, women and children condemned to death for acts of treason which they had never committed It was in August last year that they came to Mont Repos and arrested Papa, Emma Moi and us four young ones and dragged us to Paris where we are imprisoned in a narrow and horribly dank vault in the Abbe where all day and night on the timid stone walls we heard cries and sobs and moans from poor people who no doubt were suffering the same sorrows and the same indignities as we were I had just passed my 19th birthday and Marguerite was only 13 Mamon was a perfect angel during that terrible time She kept up our courage and our faith in God in a way that no one else could have done Every night and morning she and Papa sat close beside her and we prayed to God for deliverance from our afflictions and for the poor people who were crying and moaning all the day But of what went on outside our prison walls we had not an idea though sometimes poor Papa would brave the warders brutalities and ask him questions of what was happening in Paris every day They are hanging all of the heiress to the street lamps of the city the man would reply with a cruel laugh and it will be your turn next We had been in prison for about a fortnight when one day oh shall I ever forget it we heard in the distance a noise like the rumbling of thunder nearer and nearer it came and soon the sound became less confused cries and shrieks could be heard above that rumbling din but so weird and menacing did those cries seem that instinctively though none of us knew what it meant we all felt a nameless terror grip our hearts oh I am not going to attempt the awful task of describing to you all the horrors of that never to be forgotten day people who today cannot speak without a shutter of the September massacres have not the remotest conception of what really happened on that awful second day of that month we are all at peace and happy now but whenever my thoughts fly back to that morning whenever the ears of memory recall those hideous yells of fury and of hate coupled with the equally horrible cries for pity which pierced through the walls behind which the six of us were crouching, trembling and praying whenever I think of it all my heart still beats violently with that same nameless dread in its deathly grip then hundreds of men, women and children were massacred in the prisons of that day it was a sent Bartholomew even more hideous than the last Mama was trying in vain to keep our thoughts fixed upon God Papa sat on the stone bench his elbows resting on his knees his head buried in his hands but Mama was kneeling on the floor with her dear arms encircling us all and her trembling lips moving in continuous prayer we felt that we were facing death and what a death oh my God suddenly the small graded window high up in the dank wall became obscured I was the first to look up but the cry of terror which rose from my heart was choked ere it reached my throat Jean and André looked up too and they shrieked and so did Marguerite and Papa jumped up and ran to us and stood suddenly between us and the window like a tiger defending its young but we were all of us quite silent now the children did not even cry they stared wide-eyed paralyzed with fear only Mama continued to pray and we could hear Papa's rapid and stenorious breathing as he watched what was going on at that window above heavy blows were falling against the masonry around the grading and we could hear the nerve-wracking sound of a file working on the iron bars and further away below the window those awful yells of human beings transformed by hate and fury into savage beasts how long this horrible suspense lasted I cannot now tell you the next thing I remember clearly is a number of men in horrible ragged clothing pouring into our vault-like prison above the next moment they rushed at us simultaneously or so it seemed to me for I was just then recommending my soul to God so certain was I that in that same second I would cease to live it was all like a dream for instead of the horrible shriek of satisfied hate which we were all expecting to hear a whispering voice commanding and low struck our ears and dragged us, as it were from out of the abyss of despair into the sudden light of hope if you will trust us the voice whispered and not be afraid you will be safely out of Paris within an hour Papa was the first to realize what was happening he had never lost his presence of mind even during the darkest moment of this terrible time and he said quite calmly and steadily what must we do persuade the little ones not to be afraid not to cry and silent as may be continued the voice which I felt must be that of one of God's own angels so exquisitely kind that it sound to my ear they will be quiet and still without persuasion said Papa eh children and André, Jean, and Marguerite murmured yes while mama and I drew them closer to us and said everything we could think of to make them still more brave and the whispering commanding voice went on after a while now will you allow yourselves to be muffled and bound and after that will you swear that whatever happens whatever you may see and hear you will neither move nor speak not only your own lives but those of many brave men will depend upon your fulfillment of this oath Papa made no reply saved to raise his hand and eyes up to where God surely was watching over us all said in her gentle even voice for myself and my children I swear to do all that you tell us a great feeling of confidence had entered into her heart just as it had done into mine we looked at one another and knew that we were both thinking of the same thing we were thinking of the brave Englishmen and his gallant little band of heroes about whom we had heard many wonderful tales how they had rescued a number of indecent people who were unjustly threatened with a guillotine and we all knew that the tall figure disguised in horrible rags who spoke to us with such gentle yet commanding voice was the man whom rumor credited with supernatural powers and who was known by this mysterious name of the Scarlet Pimpernel hardly had we sworn to do his bidding than his friends most unceremoniously threw great pieces of sacking over our heads and then proceeded to tie ropes around our bodies at least I know that that is what one of them was doing to me and from one or two whispered words of command which reached my ear I concluded that Papa, Emma Ma, and the children were being dealt with in the same summary manner I felt hot and stifled under that rough bit of sacking but I would not have moved or even sighed for worlds strangely enough as soon as my eyes and ears were shut off from the sounds and sights immediately round me I once more became conscious of the horrible and awful din which was going on not only on the other side of our prison walls but inside the whole of the Abbey building and in the street beyond once more I heard those terrible howls of rage and a satisfied hatred uttered by the assassins who were being paid by the government of our beautiful country to butcher helpless prisoners in their hundreds suddenly I felt myself hoisted up off my feet and slung up to a pair of shoulders that must have been very powerful indeed for I am no lightweight and once more I heard the voice the very sound of which was delight quite close to my ear this time giving a brief and comprehensive command already remember your part en avant and it added in English here Tony you start kicking against the door whilst we begin to shout I loved those few words of English and hoped the mama had heard them too for it would confirm her as it did me in the happy knowledge that God and a brave man had taken our rescue in hand but from that moment we might have all been in the very anti chamber of hell I could hear the violent kicks against the heavy door of our prison and our brave rescuers seemed suddenly to be transformed into a cage full of wild beasts their shouts and yells were as horrible as any that came to us from the outside and I must say that the gentle firm voice which I had learnt to love was as extroble as any I could hear apparently the door would not yield as the blows against it became more and more violent and presently from somewhere above my head the window presumably there came a rough call and a raucous laugh why what in the name of is happening here and the voice near me answered back equally roughly a quarry of six but we are caught in this confounded trap get the door open for us citizen we want to get rid of this booty and go in search of more a horrible laugh was the reply from above and the next instant I heard a terrific crash the door had at last then burst open either from within or without I could not tell which and suddenly all the din, the cries, the groans the hideous laughter and biblous songs which had sounded muffled up to now burst upon us with all their hideousness that was I think the most awful moment of that truly fearful hour I could not have moved then even had I wished or been able to do so but I knew that between us all in a horrible yelling murdering mob there was now nothing except the hand of God and the heroism of a band of English gentlemen together they gave a cry as loud as terrifying as any that were uttered by the butchering crowd in the building and with a wild rush they seemed to plunge with us right into the thick of the awful melee at least that is what it felt like to me and afterwards I heard from our gallant rescuer himself that that is exactly what he and his friends did there were eight of them all together and we four young ones had been hoisted on a pair of devoted shoulders whilst Mama and Papa were each carried by two men I was lying across the finest pair of shoulders in the world and close to me was beating the bravest heart on God's earth thus burdened these noble English gentlemen charged right through an army of butchering howling brutes they themselves howling with the fiercest of them all around me I heard weird and terrific cries what ho citizens what have you there six aristose shouted my hero boldly as he rushed on forging his way through the crowd what are you doing with them yelled a raucous voice food for the starving fish in the river was the ready response stand aside citizen he added with a round curse I have my orders from citizen Danton himself about these six aristose you hinder me at your peril he was challenged over and over again in the same way and so were his friends who were carrying Papa and Mama and the children but they were always ready with a reply ready with an evictive or a curse with eyes that could not see no one could imagine them as hideous as vengeful as cruel as the rest of the crowd I think that soon I must have fainted from sheer excitement and terror for I remember nothing more till I felt myself deposited on a hard floor propped against the wall and the stifling piece of sacking taken off my face and head I looked around me dazed and bewildered gradually the horrors of the past hour and I had to close my eyes again for I felt sick and giddy with the sheer memory of it all but presently I felt stronger and looked around me Jean and André were squatting in a corner close by gazing wide eyed at the group of men in filthy ragged clothing who sat round a deal table in the center of a small ill furnished room Mama was lying on a horsehair sofa at the other end of the room I reached beside her and Papa sat in a low chair by her side holding her hand The voice I loved was speaking in its quaint, somewhat drawly cadence You are quite safe now, my dear Monsieur la Monsieur, it said After Madame and the young people have had a rest, some of my friends will find you suitable disguises and they will escort you out of Paris as they have some really genuine passports in their possessions which we obtain from time to time through the agency of a personage highly placed in this murderous government and with the help of English banknotes Those passports are not always unchallenged I must confess, added my hero with a quaint laugh But tonight everyone is busy murdering in one part of Paris so the other parts are comparatively safe Then he turned to one of his friends and spoke to him in English You had better see this through, Tony, he said with Hastings and Mackenzie Three of you will be enough I shall have need of the others No one seemed to question his orders He had spoken and the others made ready to obey Just then Papa spoke up How are we going to thank you, sir, he asked speaking broken English but with his habitual dignity of manner By leaving your welfare in our hands, Monsieur replied our gallant rescuer quietly Papa tried to speak again but the Englishman put up his hand to stop any further talk There is no time now, Monsieur he said with gentle courtesy I must leave you as I have much work yet to do Where are you going, blank me asked one of the others Back to the abbey prison, he said There are other women and children to be rescued there of Book 7 Book 8, Chapter 1 of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orkski Book 8, The Traitor Chapter 1 Not one of them had really trusted him for some time now Heaven and his conscience alone knew what had changed by Lord Comster from a loyal friend and a keen sportsman into a surly and dissatisfied adherent adherent only in name Some say that lack of money had invited him He was a confirmed gambler and had been losing over heavily of late And the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel demanded sacrifices of money at times from its members as well as the life in the need arose Others averred that jealousy against the cheap had outweighed Comster's honesty Certain it is that the life of Filty to the League had long ago been broken in the spirit treachery hovered in the air But the Scarlet Pimpernel himself with that indomitable optimism of his and almost maddening insouciance either did not believe in Comster's disloyalty or chose not to heed it He even asked him for an addition one of the most dangerous undertaken by the League for some time and which had for its object the rescue of some women of the late unfortunate Marie Antoinette's household Maids and faithful servants ruthlessly condemned to die for their tender adherence to a martyred queen And yet 18 pairs had murmured words of mourning It was towards the end of November 1793 The rain was beating down in a monotonous drip drip onto the roof of a derelict house in the Rue Berthia The wane light of a cold winter's morning peaked in through the curtainless window and touched with its weird grey brush the face of a young girl a mere child who sat in a dejected attitude on a rickety chair with elbows leaning on the rough deal table before her and thin grimy fingers wandering with pathetic futility to her tearful eyes In the farther angle of the room a tall figure in dark clothes was made one green gloom with the dense shadows beyond We have starved, said the girl with rebellious tears Father and I and the boys are miserable enough God knows that we have always been honest From out the shadows in that dark corner of the room there came the sound of an oath quickly suppressed Honest, exclaimed the man with the harsh mocking laugh which made the girl wince as if with physical pain Is it honest to harbour the enemies of your country? Is it honest? But quickly he checked himself biting his lips with vexation feeling that his present tactics were not like to gain the day He came out of the gloom and approached the girl with every outward sign of eagerness He knelt on the dusty floor beside her His arms stole round her mega shoulders and his harsh voice was subdued to tones of gentleness I was only thinking of your happiness, Ebon he said tenderly a poor blind papa and the two boys to whom you had been such a devoted little mother My only desire is that you should earn the gratitude of your country by denouncing her most bitter enemy an act of patriotism which will place you and those for whom you care for ever beyond the reach of sorrow or of want The voice, the appeal the look of love was more than the poor simple girl could resist Myla was so handsome so good it had all been so strange these English aristocrats coming here she knew not whence and who seemed fugitives even though they had plenty of money to spend two days ago they had sought shelter like malefactors escaped from justice in the same tumble down derelict house where she, Ebon her blind father and two little brothers crept in of nights or when the weather was too rough for them all to stand and beg in the streets of Paris there were five of them all together and one seemed to be the cheap he was very tall and had deep blue eyes and a merry voice that went echoing along the worm-eaten old rafters but Myla, the one whose arms were encircling her even now was the hansomest among them all he had sought Ebon out on the very first night when she had crawled shivering to that corner of the room where she usually slept the English aristocrats had frightened her at first and she was for flying from the derelict house with her family seeking shelter elsewhere that he who appeared to be the cheap had quickly reassured her he seemed so kind and good and talked so gently to blind papa and made such merry jests with Francois and Clovie that she herself could scarce refrain from laughing through the tears but later on in the night Myla, her Myla as she soon got to call him came and talked so beautifully that she, poor girl felt as if no music could ever sound quite so sweetly in her ear that was two days ago and since then Myla had often talked to her in the lonely abandoned house and Ebon had felt as if she dwelt in heaven she still took blind papa and the boys out to beg in the streets but in the morning she prepared some hot coffee for the English aristocrats and in the evening she cooked them some broth oh, they gave her money lavishly but she quite understood that they were in hiding though what they had to fear being English she could not understand and now Myla was telling her that these Englishmen her friends were spies and traitors and that it was her duty to tell citizen robes pierre and the committee of public safety all about them and their mysterious doings and poor Ebon was greatly puzzled and deeply distressed because, of course whatever Myla said that was the truth and yet her conscience cried out within her poor little bosom and the thought of betraying those kind Englishmen was horrible to her Ebon whispered Myla in that endearing voice of his which was like the loveliest music in her ear my little Ebon you do trust me, do you not with all my heart Myla she murmured fervently then would you believe it of me that I would betray a real friend I believe Myla that whatever you do is right and good a sigh of infinite relief escaped his lips come, that's better he said patting her cheek kindly with his hand now listen to me little one he who is the chief here is the most unscrupulous endearing rascal whom the world has ever known he it is who is called the Scarlet Pimpernel the Scarlet Pimpernel murmured Ebon her eyes dilated with superstitious awe for she too had heard of the mysterious Englishmen and of his followers who rescued aristocrats and traitors from the death to which the tribunal of the people had just condemned them and on whom the mighty hand of the committee of public safety had never yet been able to fall this Scarlet Pimpernel said Myla earnestly after a while is also my own most relentless enemy with lies and promises he induced me to join him in the work of spying and of treachery forcing me to do this work against which my whole soul rebels you can save me from this hated bondage little one you may make me free to live again make me free to love and place my love at your feet his voice had become exquisitely tender and his lips as he whispered the heavenly words were quite close to her ear he a great gentleman loved the miserable little wife whose kindred consisted of a blind father and two half starved little brothers and whose only home was this miserable hobble when Smiler's graciousness and bounty would soon take her do you think that Yvonne's sense of right and wrong, of honesty treachery should have been keener than that primal instinct of a simple-hearted woman to throw herself trustingly into the arms of the man who has succeeded in winning her love Yvonne subdued enchanted murmured still through her tears what would Myla have me to do Lord Comster rose from his knees satisfied listen to me Yvonne he said you are acquainted with the Englishman's plans are you not of course she replied simply he has had to trust me then you know that it's sundown this afternoon I and the three others are to leave for Corby boy on foot where we are to obtain what horses we can whilst awaiting the chief I did not know whether you and the other three gentlemen were going Myla she replied but I did know that some of you were to make a start at four o'clock whilst I was to wait here for your leader and prepare some supper against his coming and what time did he tell you that he would come he did not say but he did tell me that when he returns he will have friends with him a lady and two little children they will be hungry and cold I believe that they are in great danger now and that the brave English gentleman means to take them away from this awful Paris to a place of safety the brave English gentleman my dear retorted Myla with a sneer is bent on some horrible work of spying the lady and the two children are no doubt innocent tools in his hands just as I am and when he no longer needs them he will deliver them over to the committee of public safety who will of assurity condemn them to death that will also be my fate Yvonne unless you help me now oh no no she exclaimed fervently tell me what to do Myla and I will do it at sundown he said sinking his voice so low that even she could scarcely hear when I and the three others have started on our way go straight to the house I spoke to you about in the rue Dauphine you know where it is oh yes Myla you will know the house by its tumble-down portico and the tattered red flag once there push the door open and walk in boldly then asked to speak with citizen robespierre robespierre exclaimed the child in terror you must not be afraid Yvonne he said earnestly you must think of me and of what you are doing for me my word on it robespierre will listen to you most kindly what shall I tell him she murmured that a mysterious party of Englishmen are in hiding in this house that their chief is known among them as the scarlet pimpenel the rest leave to robespierre discretion you see how simple it is it was indeed very simple nor did the child recoil any longer from the ugly task which Myla with suave speech and tender voice was so ardently seeking to impose on her a few more words of love which cost him nothing a few kisses which cost him still less since the wench loved him and since she was young and pretty and Yvonne was as wax in the hands of the traitor end of book 8 chapter 1 book 8 chapter 2 at the league of the scarlet pimpenel this is a Libra box recording all Libra box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit Libra box dot org the league at the scarlet pimpenel by Baroness orkski book 8 the traitor chapter 2 silence rained in the low raftered room on the ground floor at the house in the rue d'Orphée citizen robes pierre chairman of the cordeliers club the most bloodthirsty most evolutionary club of France had just re-entered the rue he walked up to the centre table and through the close atmosphere thick with tobacco smoke he looked round on his assembled friends we have got him he said at last curtly got him whom came in horse cries from every corner of the room that Englishman replied the demigauge the scarlet pimpenel a prolonged shout rose in response a shout not unlike that avocaged herd of hungry wild beasts to whom a succulent morsel of flesh has unexpectedly been thrown where is he where did you get him alive or dead and many more questions such as these were hurled at the speaker from every side robes pierre calm impassive immaculately neat in his tightly fitting coat his smart britches waited a while until the din had somewhat subsided then he said calmly the scarlet pimpenel is in hiding in one of the derelict houses in the rue Berthierre snails of derisions as vigorous as the former shouts of triumph drown the rest of his speech but how often has that cursed scarlet pimpenel been said to be alone in a lonely house citizen chauvin has had him at his mercy several times in lonely houses and the speaker a short thick-set man with sparse black hair plastered over a greasy forehead his shirt open at the neck revealing a powerful chest and rough hairy skin spat in ostentatious contempt upon the floor therefore we will not boast of his capture yet citizen roger resumed Rose Pierre impertably I tell you where the Englishman is do you look to it that he does not escape the heat in the room had become intolerable from the grimy ceiling and oil lamp flickering low through lurid, ruddy lights on tricolor shades on hands that seemed red with blood of innocent victims of lust and hate and on faces glowing with desire and with anticipated savage triumph who is the informer asked roger at last a girl replied robes Pierre curtly even Levoire by name she and her family lived by begging for a blind father and two boys they heard together at night in the derelict house in the rue Berthier five Englishmen had been in hiding there these past few days one of them is their leader the girl believes him to be the scarlet pimpenel why has she not spoken of this before muttered one of the crowd with some skepticism frightened I suppose or the Englishman paid her to hold her tongue where is the girl now I am sending her straight home a little ahead of us her presence should reassure the Englishman whilst we make ready to surround the house in the meanwhile I have sent special messages to every gate of Paris with strict orders to the guard not to allow anyone out of the city further orders from the committee of public safety and now he added throwing back his head with the gesture a proud challenge citizens which of you will go manhunting tonight this time the strident roar of savage exultation was loud and deep enough to shake the flickering lamp upon its chain a brief discussion of plans followed and Roger he with the broad hairy chest and that gleam of hatred for ever lurking in his deep set shifty eyes was chosen the leader of the party 30 determined and well armed patriots set out against one man who may have had supernatural powers there would no doubt be some aristocrats too in hiding in the derelict house the girl the bore it seems had spoken of the woman and two children but these would not count it would be 30 to 1 so let the scarlet pimpinal look to himself from the towers of Notre Dame the big bell struck the hour of six and 30 men ragged shirts and torn britches shivering beneath a cold November drizzle began slowly to win their way towards the Rue Berthier they walked on in silence not heeding the cold or the rain but with eyes fixed in the direction of their goal and nostrils quivering in the evening air with the distant scent of blood end of book 8 chapter 2 chapter 3 at the league at the Scarlet Pimpinal this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the league at the Scarlet Pimpinal by Baroness Orksky book 8 the traitor chapter 3 at the top of the Rue Berthier the party halted on ahead some 200 meters farther Yvonne LeVore's little figure with a ragged skirt pulled over her head and her bare feet pattering in the mud with scene crossing one of those intermittent patches of light formed by occasional flickering street lights and then was followed up once more by the inky blackness beyond the Rue Berthier is a long, narrow, ill paved and ill lighted street composed of low and irregular houses which abut on the line of fortifications at the back and are therefore absolutely inaccessible saved from the front Midway down the street a derelict house rears ghostly debris roofs and chimney stacks upward to the sky a tiny square of yellow light blinking like a giant eye through a curtainless window pierced the wall of the house Roger pointed to that light that, he said is the quarry where our fox has run to earth no one said anything but the dank night air seemed suddenly alive the passions of hate let loose by 30 beating hearts the scarlet pimpenel who had tricked them mocked them filled them so often was there not 200 meters away and they were 30 to 1 and all determined and desperate the darkness was intense silently now the party approached the house they halted within 60 meters of it hissed the whisper could scarce be heard so low was it like the sighing of the wind through a misty veil who is it came in quick challenge from Roger I, Elon LeBord is he there was the eager whispered quarry not yet but he may come at any moment if he saw a crowd around the house may have he would not come he cannot see a crowd the night is as dark as pitch he can see the darkest night and the girl's voice sunk to an awed whisper and he can hear through a stone wall instinctively Roger shuttered the superstitious fear which the mysterious personality of the scarlet pimpenel evoked in the heart of every terrorist had suddenly seized this man in its grip try as he would he did not feel as bellend as he had done when first he emerged at the head of his party from under the portico of the court of liars club and it was with none too steady a voice that he ordered the girl roughly back to the house then he turned once more to his men the plan of action had been decided on in the club under the presidency of roves pierre it only remained to carry the plans through with success from the side of the fortifications there was of course nothing to fear in accordance with military regulations the walls of the houses there rose sheared from the ground without doors or windows walls the broken down parapets and dilipidated roofs towered 40 feet above the ground the derelicted self was of one of a row of houses some inhabited others quite abandoned it was the front of that row of houses therefore that had to be kept in view marshal by roger the men flattened their meagre bodies against the walls of the houses opposite and after that there was nothing to do but wait to wait in the darkness at the night with the thin icy rain soaking through ragged shirts and tattered britches with bare feet frozen by the mud at the road to wait in silence while turbulent hearts beat from the night to bursting to wait for food whilst hunger gnaws the boughs to wait for drink whilst the part tongue cleaves to the roof of the mouth to wait for revenge whilst the hours roll slowly by and the cries of the darken city are stilled one by one once when a distant fell told the hour of ten prolonged laugh almost impudent in its suggestion of merry insorciance echoed through the weird silence of the night roger felt that the man nearest to him shivered at that sound and he heard a bolly or two of muttered oafs the fox seemed somewhere near he whispered come with him we'll wait for him inside his hole away across the street some of the men following him the door of the derelict house had been left on the latch roger pushed it open silence and gloom he reigned supreme utter darkness too save for a narrow streak of light which edged the framework of a door on the right not a sound stirred the quietude of this miserable hovel only the creaking of boards beneath the men's feet as they entered roger crossed the passage and opened the door on the right his friends pressed closely round to him and peeked over his shoulder into the room beyond a guttering piece of tallow candle fixed to an old tin pot stood in the middle of the floor and its feeble, flickering light only served to accentuate the darkness that lay beyond its range one or two rickety chairs and a rough deal table showed vaguely in the gloom and in the far corner of the room there lay a bundle of what looked like heaped up rags but from which there now emerged the sound of heavy breathing and also a little cry of fear came in feeble quarrelous accents from that same bundle of richness are these the English milers came back at last no no father was the quick whispered reply rogers for a loud oaf and to puny the voices began to whimper piteously it strikes me the wench has been feeling us muttered one of the men savagely the girl had struggled to her feet she crouched in the darkness and two little boys half naked and shivering were clinging to her skirts the rest of the human bundle seemed to consist of an oldish man with long, gaunt legs and arms blue with the cold he turned vague wide open eyes in the direction whence had come the harsh voices are they friends even he asked anxiously the girl did her best to reassure him yes yes father she whispered close to his ear her voice scarce above her breath they are good citizens who hope to find the English miler here they are disappointed that he has not yet come ah but he will said the old man in that quarrelous voice of his he left his beautiful clothes here this morning and surely he will come to fetch them and his long, thin hand pointed towards a distant corner of the room Roger and his friends looking to where he was pointing saw a parcel of clothes neatly folded lying on one of the chairs like so many wildcats snarling at sight of prey they threw themselves upon those clothes tearing them out from one another's hands turning them over and over as if to force the cloth and satin to yield up the secret that lay within their folds in the squirmish a scrap of paper fluttered to the ground Roger seized it with and crouching on the floor smoothed the paper out against his knee it contained a few hastily scrawled words and by the feeble light of the fast-dying candle Roger spelt them out laboriously if the finder of these clothes will take them to the crossroads opposite the footbridge which leads straight to Corby Boy and will do so for the clock of Corby Boy Church has struck the hour of midnight he will be rewarded with the sum of 500 francs there is something more citizen Roger said a raucous voice close to his ear look look citizen in the bottom corner of the paper the signature a scroll done in red said Roger trying to decipher it it looks like a small flower that occurs scarlet pimpenel and even as he spoke the guttering tello candle swaying in its socket suddenly went out with a loud splutter and the sizzle that echoed through the desolate room like the mocking laugh of ghouls end of book 8 chapter 3 book 8 chapter 4 at the league at the scarlet pimpenel this is a Libra box recording all Libra box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit Libra box.org the league at the scarlet pimpenel by Baroness Orkski book 8 the traitor chapter 4 once more the tramp through the dark and deserted streets with the drizzle turned now to sleet beating on thinly clad shoulders 15 men only on this tramp the others remain behind to watch the house 15 men led by Roger and with a blind old man a young girl carrying a bundle of clothes and two half-naked children dragged as camp followers in the rear their destination now was the signpost which stands at the crossroads past the footbridge that leads to Corby boy the guard at the Marlott gate would have stopped the party but Roger member of the committee of public safety armed with his papers with color scarf overruled robes pierre former orders and the party marched out of the gate they pressed on in silence instinctively walking shoulder to shoulder vaguely longing for the touch of another human hand the sound of a voice that would not ring weirdly in the mysterious night there was something terrifying in this absolute silence in such intense darkness in this constant wandering towards a goal that seemed forever distant and in all this weary weary fruitless waiting and these men who lived their life through drunken with blood deafened by the cries of their victims satiated with the moans of the helpless and the innocent hardly dared to look around them lest they should see ghoulish forms flitting through the gloom soon they reached the crossroads and in the dense blackness of the night the gaunt arms of the signpost pointed ghost light towards the north the men hung back wrapped in the darkness as in a pal while Roger advanced alone holla is anyone there he called softly then as no reply came he added more loudly holla a friend with some clothes found in the maroo berthier is anyone here holla a friend but only from the gently murmuring river far away the melancholy call of a waterfowl seemed to echo mocking own a friend just then the clock of corby boy church struck the midnight hour it is too late whispered the men they did not swear nor did they curse their leader somehow it seemed as if they had expected all along that the Englishman would evade their vengeance yet again that he would lure them and into the darkness and then that he would mock them feel them and finally disappear into the night it seemed cutile to wait any longer they were so sure that they had failed again who goes there the sound of naked feet and of wooden subots pattering on the distant footbridge had caused Roger to utter the quick challenge holla holla are you there with the loud breathless response the next moment the darkness became alive with men moving quickly forward and raucous shouts of where are they, have you got them don't let them go, fill the air got who, who are they what is it were the wild pound to cries the man, the girl the children, where are they what, which, the Levoire family they are here with us where where indeed to a call to them from Roger there came no answer nor did a hasty search result in finding them the old man the two boys and the girl carrying the bundle of clothes had finished into the night in the name of, what does this mean cried horse forces in the crowd the newcomers, breathless terrified, shaking with superstitious fear tried to explain the Levoire family the old man, the girl the two boys, we discovered after your departure locked up in the cellar of the house prisoners but then, the others the girl and the children whom you saw must have been some aristocrats in disguise the old man who spoke to you was that cursed Englishman the Scarlet Pimpernel and as if in mocking confirmation of these words they're suddenly rung echoing from afar a long and merry laugh the Scarlet Pimpernel cried Roger at him, citizens he cannot have got far hush, listen whispered one of the men suddenly gripping him by the arm and from the distance though heaven only knew from what direction came the sound of horses hoofs pouring the soft ground the next moment they were heard galloping away at breakneck speed the men turned to run to direction blindly, aimlessly in the dark like bloodhounds that have lost the trail one man as he ran stumbled against a dark mess prone upon the ground with a curse on his lips he recovered his balance whole what is this he cried some of the comrades gathered round him no one could see anything but the dark mess appeared to have human shape and it was bound round and round with cords and now feeble moans escaped from obviously human lips what is it? who is it? asked the men an Englishman came in weak accents from the ground your name I am called Cummestead Bah, an aristocrat no, an enemy of the Scarlet Pimpernel like yourselves I would have delivered him into your hands but you let him escape you as for me he would have been wiser if he had killed me they picked him up and undid the cords from round his body and later on took him with them back into Paris but there in the darkness of the night in the mud of the road and beneath the icy rain knees were shaking that had long ago forgotten how to bend and hasty prayers were muttered by lips that were far more accustomed to blaspheme end of book 8 chapter 4 book 9 chapter 1 of the league of the Scarlet Pimpernel this is the Libravox recording all Libravox recordings are in the public domain if you have information or to volunteer please visit Libravox.org the league of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Ortsey book 9 the Cabaret de la Liberté chapter 1 8 12 4 a loud curse accompanied this last throw and shouts a variable laughter greeted it no luck Gidal always at the tail end of the cart the spare yet good old Gidal bad beginnings often make splendid ends then once again the dice rattled in the boxes those who stood around pressed closer around the gainsters hot avid faces covered with sweat and grime peered eagerly down upon the table 8 and 11 19 12 and 0 by Satan Kersen just my luck 4 and 9 13 unlucky number now then once more I'll back Marie 10 the signets of the most worthless kind who will take me that Marie gets the winch in the end this from one of the lookers on a tall, cadaverous looking creature with sunken eyes and broad hunched up shoulders which were perpetually shaken by a dry rasping cough that proclaimed the ravages of some mortal disease left him trembling as with a gu and brought beads of perspiration to the roots of his lank here a recredescence of excitement went the round of the spectators the gamblers sitting round a narrow deal table on which past libations had left marks of sticky rings had scarce room to move their elbows 19 and 4 23 you are out of it Desmond not yet 12 and 12 there what did I tell you wait wait now Marie now remember I have backed you for 10 the signets which I proposed to steal from the nearest Jew this very night 13 and 12 25 by all the demons and the ghouls came with the triumphant shout from the last thrower Marie has it Vive Marie was the unanimous and clamorous response Marie was evidently the most popular amongst the three gamblers now he sprawled upon the bench leaning his back against the table and surveyed the assembled company with the air of an ashile detector good luck to you and to your Aristo began his backer lustily would no doubt have continued his song of praise had not a violent fit of coughing smothered the words in his throat the hand which he had raised in order to slap his friend genially on the back now went with a convulsive clutch to his own chest but his obvious distress did not apparently disturb the equanimity of Marie even a passing interest in the lookers on may she have as much money as rumor averse said one of the men sententiously Marie gave a careless wave of his grubby hand more citizen more he said loftily only the two losers appeared inclined to skepticism Ba one of them said it was demon the whole matter of the woman's money may be a tissue of lies and England is a far cry and he was a very disappointed gidal but Mary was not likely to be depressed by these dismal croakings is simple enough he said philosophically to disparage the goods if you are not able to buy then a lusty voice broken from the far corner of the room and now citizen Marie just time you remembered that the evening is hot and your friends thirsty the man who spoke was a short broad-shouldered creature with one face surrounded by a shock of white hair like a ripe tomato wrapped in cotton wool and let me tell you he added complacently that I have a cask of rum down below which came straight from that accursed country England and is said to be the nectar whereon feeds that confounded scarlet Pempernow it gives him the strength so to said to intrigue successfully against the representatives of the people then by all means citizen concluded Marie's backer still horse and spent after his fit of coughing let us have some mere nectar my friend citizen Marie will need his strength and wits too a warrant for after he has married the he will have to journey to England to pluck the rich dowry which is said to lie him there cast no doubt upon that dowry citizen reto curse you broken Marie with a spiteful glance directed against his former rivals or will cease to look glum and half my joy in the aristo will have gone after which the conversation drifted to general subjects became hilarious and ribald while the celebrated Rome from England filled the close atmosphere of the narrow room with its heady fumes into book nine chapter one book nine chapter two the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Ortsey book nine the Cabaret de la Liberté chapter two open to the street and front the locality known under the pretentious title of Cabaret de la Liberté was a favored one among the Flotsam and Jetsam of the population of this corner of old Paris men and sometimes women with nothing particular to do no special means of livelihood save the batoning on the countless miseries and sorrows which this revolution which was to have been so glorious was bringing in its train idlers and loafers who would crawl desultorily down the few worn and grimy steps which led into the cabaret from the level of the street there was always Good Brandy or Oda V to be had there and no questions asked no scares from the revolutionary guards or the secret agents of the Committee of Public Safety who knew better than to interfere with the citizen host and his dubious clientele there was also Good Rhineline or Rum to be had smuggled across from England or Germany and no interference from the spies of some of those countless committees more autocratic than any c-devant despot it was in fact an ideal place wherein to conduct those shady transactions which are unavoidable corollaries of an unfettered democracy projects of burglary pillage rapine even murder were hatched within this underground burrow where as soon as evening drew in a solitary smoky oil lamp alone cast a dim light upon faces that liked to court the darkness and when snow sound that was not meant for prying ears found its way to the street above the walls were thick with grime and smoke the floor mildewed and cracked dirt vied with squalor to make the place a fitting abode for thieves and cutthroats for some of those sinister nightbirds more vile even than those who shrieked with satisfied lust at the sight of the tumbrel out of unfortunates for the guillotine on this occasion the project that was being hatched was one of the most abject the young girl known by some to be possessive of fortune was the stake for which these workers of iniquity gambled across one of mine host's greasy tables the latest decree of the convention encouraging nay, commanding the union of aristocrats with so called patriots had fired the imagination of this nest of jailbirds with thoughts of glorious possibilities some of them had collected the necessary information and the report had been encouraging that self-indulgent aristo, the c-devant banker amide vincent who had expiated his villainies upon the guillotine was known to have been successful in abstracting the bulk of his ill-gotten wealth and concealing it somewhere it was not exactly known where but thought to be in England out of the reach at any rate of deserving patriots some three or four years ago before the glorious principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity had made short shrift of all such pestilental aristocrats the c-devant banker then a widower with an only daughter, Esther, had journeyed to England he soon returned to Paris however and went on living there with his little girl in comparative retirement until his many crimes found him out at last and he was made to suffer the punishment which he so justly deserved those crimes consisted for the most part in humiliating the aforesaid deserving patriots with his benevolence shaming them with many kindnesses and the simplicity of his home life and above all in flouting the decrees of the revolutionary government which made every connection with c-devant priests a penal offense against the security of the state Amid Vincent was sent to the guillotine and the representatives of the people confiscated his house and all his property on which they could lay their hands but they never found the millions which he was supposed to have concealed certainly his daughter Esther a young girl not yet nineteen had not found them either for after her father's death she lived in one of the poorer quarters of Paris alone with an old and faithful servant named Lucian and while the committee of public safety was deliberating whether it would be worthwhile to send Esther to the guillotine to follow in her father's footsteps a certain number of astute jailbirds plotted to obtain possession of her wealth the wealth existed over in England of that they were ready to take their oath and the project which they had formed was as ingenious as it was diabolic to feign a denunciation to enact a pretended arrest to place before the unfortunate girl the alternative of death or marriage with one of the gang were the chief incidents of this inquitus project and it was in the cabaret de la liberté that lots were thrown as to which among the herd of miscreants should be the favored one to play the chief role in the sinister drama the lot fell to Marie but the whole gang was to have a share in the putative fortune even Rataud the wretched creature with the hacking cough who looked as if he had one foot in the grave and shivered as if he were stricken with a guillotine put in a word now and again to remind his good friend Marie that he too was looking forward to his share of the spoils Marie however was inclined to repudiate him altogether why should I share with you he said roughly when a few hours later he and Rataud parted in the streets outside the cabaret de la liberté who are you I would like to know to try and poke your ugly nose into my affairs how do I know where you came from and whether you are not some crapulence spy of one of those pestilental committees from which eloquent flow of language we may infer that the friendship between these two worthy's is not of very old duration Rataud would no doubt have protested loudly but the fresh outer air had evidently caught his weasy lungs and for a minute or two he could do nothing but cough and sputter and groan and cling to his unresponsive comrade for support then at last when he had succeeded in recovering his breath he said dolefully and with a ludicrous attempt at dignified reproach do not force me to remind you citizen Marie that if it had not been for my suggestion that we should all draw lots and then play hazard as to who shall be the chosen one to woo the citevant millionaires there would soon have been a free fight inside the cabaret a number of broken heads and no decision whatever arrived at whilst you who were never much of a fighter would probably be lying now helpless with a broken nose and deprived of some of your teeth and with no chance of entering the lists for the heiress instead of which here you are the victor by a stroke of good fortune which you should at least have a good grace to ascribe to me whether the poor wretched argument had any weight with citizen Marie or whether that worthy patriot merely thought that procrastination would for the nuns prove the best policy it were impossible to say certain it is that in response to his companion's tirade he contented himself with a dubious grunt and without another word turned on his heel and went slouching down the street end of book 9 chapter 2