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Updated: May 17, 2025
It was great fun to see the aristos arriving for the reception of Madame la Guillotine, and the places close by the platform were very much sought after. Bibot, during the day, had been on duty on the Place.
Mine are not the only fingers through which he has slipped. Ask citizen Collot d'Herbois, ask Sergeant Bibot at the barrier of Menilmontant, ask General Santerre and his guards. They all have a tale to tell. Did I believe in God or the devil, I should also believe that this man has supernatural powers and a host of demons at his beck and call."
"No, no," he reiterated more emphatically, "we cannot disregard the passports issued by the Committee of Public Safety. But examine each passport carefully, citizen Bibot! If you have any reasonable ground for suspicion, detain the holder, and if you have not " The sound of singing was quite near now.
Bibot, somewhat impressed and remembering Marat's admonitions, said very civilly: "Tell me your business then, citizen, and show me your passports. If everything is in order you may go your way." "But you know me, citizen Bibot?" queried the other. "Yes, I know you unofficially, citizen Durand."
'Aye! and the driver was none other than that cursed Englishman, the Scarlet Pimpernel." A howl of execration greeted this tale. Citoyen Grospierre had paid for his blunder on the guillotine, but what a fool! oh! what a fool! Bibot was laughing so much at his own tale that it was some time before he could continue.
"A cart, . . ." he shouted breathlessly, even before he had reached the gates. "What cart?" asked Bibot, roughly. "Driven by an old hag. . . . A covered cart . . ." "There were a dozen . . ." "An old hag who said her son had the plague?" "Yes . . ." "You have not let them go?" "MORBLEU!" said Bibot, whose purple cheeks had suddenly become white with fear.
There was really and absolutely no cause for suspicion, and when citizen Marat returned the six passports, pronouncing them to be genuine, and recognising his own signature at the bottom of each, Bibot was at last satisfied, and the six bibulous carriers were allowed to pass through the gate, which they did, arm in arm, singing a wild curmagnole, and vociferously cheering as they emerged out into the open.
Grospierre was a bit drunk, but he thought himself very clever; he looked into the casks most of them, at least and saw they were empty, and let the cart go through." A murmur of wrath and contempt went round the group of ill-clad wretches, who crowded round Citoyen Bibot. "Half an hour later," continued the sergeant, "up comes a captain of the guard with a squad of some dozen soldiers with him.
"The cart contained the CI-DEVANT Comtesse de Tourney and her two children, all of them traitors and condemned to death." "And their driver?" muttered Bibot, as a superstitious shudder ran down his spine. "SACRE TONNERRE," said the captain, "but it is feared that it was that accursed Englishman himself the Scarlet Pimpernel."
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