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Updated: May 4, 2025
Free in a measure, of course, since spies were to be set to watch him but free, nevertheless? He could not understand Chauvelin's attitude, and his own self-love was not a little wounded at the thought that he was of such little account that these men could afford to give him even this provisional freedom. And, of course, there was still Jeanne.
Silence reigned in the narrow cell for a few moments, whilst two human jackals stood motionless over their captured prey. A savage triumph gleamed in Chauvelin's eyes, and even Heron, dull and brutal though he was, had become vaguely conscious of the great change that had come over the prisoner.
"The two men presently went into the hut," continued the soldier, whilst Marguerite's aching nerves seemed to catch the sound of Chauvelin's triumphant chuckle, "and I crept nearer to it then. The hut is very roughly built, and I caught snatches of their conversation." "Yes? Quick! What did you hear?" "The old man asked the young one if he were sure that was right place.
The chaise rattled triumphantly through the Batignolles. It was then broad daylight. A brilliant early autumn day after the rains. The sun, the keen air, all mocked Chauvelin's helplessness, his humiliation. Long before noon they passed St. Denis. Here the barouche turned off the main road, halted at a small wayside house nothing more than a cottage.
Chauvelin's footsteps had long ago died away in the distance; it was a long way to the upper floor of the Tower, and some time would be spent, too, in interrogating the commissaries. This was Armand's opportunity. After all, if he were free himself he might more effectually help to rescue Jeanne. He knew, too, now where to join his leader.
"No matter," retorts Robespierre with impatient frigidity, "whatever we may call the day it was forty-eight hours ago, and in forty-eight hours more than damned Englishman will have run his head into a noose, from which, an I mistake not, he'll not find it easy to extricate himself." "And you believe in Citizen Chauvelin's assertion," commented Danton with a lazy shrug of the shoulders.
Marguerite knew now that she must not even think of escape for herself, or hope for safety for the man she loved. Of Chauvelin's talk of a bargain which would touch Percy's honour she would not even think: and she was too proud to ask anything further from him. Chauvelin stood up and made her a deep bow, as she crossed the room and finally went out of the door.
The most humiliating moments in Chauvelin's career were associated with that silly rhyme, and now here it was, mocking him even when he knew that his bitter enemy lay fettered and helpless, caught in a trap, out of which there was no escape possible; even though he knew for a positive certainty that the mocking voice which had spoken those rhymes on that far-off day last September would soon be stilled for ever.
"You are mad to think such things, Citizen, and ill serve the Republic by sparing her bitterest foe." A long, sarcastic laugh broke from Chauvelin's parted lips. "Spare him? spare the Scarlet Pimpernel!..." he ejaculated. "Nay, Citizen, you need have no fear of that.
I picked it up there after he was removed ... the ink was scarcely dry upon it." The lie came quite glibly to Chauvelin's tongue. Was not every method good, every device allowable, which would lead to so glorious an end? "Why did you not tell me of this before?" queried Fouquier-Tinville, with a sudden gleam of suspicion in his deep-set eyes.
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