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Updated: May 17, 2025
Had he not seen the Scarlet Pimpernel, that exquisite Sir Percy Blakeney, under disguises that were so grimy and so loathsome that they would have repelled the most abject, suborned spy? Indeed, all that was wanted now was the assurance that Hebert who himself had a deadly and personal grudge against the Scarlet Pimpernel would not allow him for one moment out of his sight.
Sixty!... at the mere news of the possible capture of the Scarlet Pimpernel. The Committee was inclined to be magnanimous. Ferocity yielded for the moment to the elusive joy of anticipatory triumph. A glorious prize was about to fall into the hands of those who had the welfare of the people at heart. Robespierre and his decemvirs rejoiced, and sixty persons had cause to rejoice with them.
And yet in spite of her mistrust the actress' vehement words found an echo in the depths of her own heart. How well she knew that tyranny of which Candeille spoke with such bitterness! Had she not suffered from it, endured terrible sorrow and humiliation, when under the ban of that same appalling tyranny she had betrayed the identity then unknown to her of the Scarlet Pimpernel?
When you looked closely at the cloth, you could see the lovely pattern woven in it small leaf and flower, the leaves like moss leaves, and the flowers like the pimpernel, but not half so big, and they were yellow and red and blue and violet in colour. But there were many, many things besides the lovely clothes to make him contented and happy.
Citizen Chauvelin, one of the most implacable and unyielding members of the Committee, was known to have suffered overwhelming shame at the hands of that daring gang, of whom the so-called Scarlet Pimpernel was the accredited chief.
Mais, que voulez-vous? Boulogne had long ago ceased to have faith in God: the terrors of the Revolution, which culminated in that agonizing watch of last night, had smothered all thoughts of worship and of prayer. The Scarlet Pimpernel must indeed be a dangerous spy that his arrest should cause so much joy in Paris!
Chauvelin was evidently devoured with impatience. Apparently he trusted no one: this last trick played upon him by the daring Scarlet Pimpernel had made him suddenly doubtful of success, unless he himself was there to watch, direct and superintend the capture of this impudent Englishman.
"After whom?" gasped the man. "The man who was here just now an aristo." "I saw no one but the Public Letter-Writer, old Lepine I know him well " "Curse you for a fool!" shouted Heriot savagely, "the man who was here was that cursed Englishman the one whom they call the Scarlet Pimpernel. Run after him stop him, I say!"
For a second, the thought flashed through her mind of uttering the piercing shrieks, which Chauvelin seemed to dread, as a possible warning to the Scarlet Pimpernel and his friends in the wild hope that they would hear, and have yet time to escape before it was too late. But she did not know if her shrieks would reach the ears of the doomed men.
That the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel had no intention of abandoning its cause, she had gathered through little Suzanne herself, who spoke openly of the assurance she and her mother had had that the Comte de Tournay would be rescued from France by the league, within the next few days.
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