The Whites and the Blues - Alexandre Dumas

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if we go by the door some curious fellow might be watching, who would follow us just for fun, to see where we were going; while if we go by the court, I know of a certain little gate that leads to a lane where nothing passes, not even a cat. From lane to lane we will reach the barracks, and no one will know where the turkeys perch."

      "You will remember your promise, Charles?"

      "Although I am two years younger than you, Eugene, my honor is as good as yours; and, besides, the experiences of to-day have made me feel as old as you. Good-by and sleep well; Augereau will take care of your person and I of your honor."

      The two boys clasped hands; and the sergeant-major almost broke Charles's fingers, he shook them so hard; then he drew Eugene out into the court, while Charles, with a slight grimace of pain, tried to separate his fingers. This operation finished, he took his candle and the key to his room as usual, and went upstairs.

      But scarcely was he in bed before Madame Teutch entered on tiptoe, making signs to him that she had something important to tell him. The boy understood Madame Teutch's mysterious ways well enough by this time not to be surprised at seeing her, even at this unheard-of hour. She approached his bed, murmuring: "Poor little cherub!"

      "Well, citizeness Teutch," asked Charles, laughing, "what is it this time?"

      "I must tell you what has happened, even at the risk of alarming you."

      "When?"

      "While you were at the play."

      "Did anything happen then?"

      "I should think so! We had a visit."

      "From whom?"

      "The men who came here before about Ballu and Dumont."

      "Well, I suppose they did not find them this time either."

      "They did not come for them, my pet."

      "For whom did they come, then?"

      "They came for you."

      "For me? And to what do I owe the honor of their visit?"

      "It seems that they are looking for the author of that little note."

      "In which I told them to get away as soon as possible?"

      "Yes."

      "Well?"

      "Well, they visited your room, and searched through all your papers."

      "That does not alarm me. They found nothing against the Republic."

      "No, but they found one act of a tragedy."

      "Ah! my tragedy of 'Théramène.'"

      "They took it with them."

      "The wretches! Fortunately I know it by heart."

      "But do you know why they took it with them?"

      "Because they found the verses to their taste, I presume."

      "No, because they saw that the writing in the note was the same as that of the manuscript."

      "Ah! this is getting serious."

      "You know the law, my poor child; any one who gives shelter to a suspect, or helps him to escape—"

      "Yes; it means death."

      "Just hear the poor little fellow; he says that as he would, 'Yes, bread and jam.'"

      "I say it thus, dear Madame Teutch, because it cannot possibly affect me."

      "What can't affect you?"

      "The death penalty."

      "Why can't it affect you?"

      "Because one must be sixteen years old to aspire to the honor of the guillotine."

      "Are you sure, my poor child?"

      "I have taken care to inform myself on the point. Besides, yesterday I read on the walls a new decree of citizen Saint-Just, forbidding the execution of any judgment until the account of the trial has been communicated to him, and he has questioned the convicted person. However—"

      "What?" asked Madame Teutch.

      "Wait. Here, give me some paper, and a pen and ink."

      Charles took up a pen, and wrote:

      Citizen Saint-Just, I have just been illegally arrested, and, having faith in your justice, I demand to be brought before you.

      And he signed it.

      "There, Madame Teutch," said he. "It is well to foresee every emergency in these times. If I am arrested, you must send that note to citizen Saint-Just."

      "Good Lord! Poor little fellow, if such a mishap should befall you, I promise you to take it myself, and even if I have to wait all night in the anteroom I won't give it to any one but him."

      "That is all that is necessary; and on the strength of that, citizeness Teutch, kiss me and sleep well—I will try to do the same."

      Madame Teutch kissed her guest, and went away, murmuring: "In God's truth, there are no more children; here is one challenging citizen Tétrell, and the other demanding to be brought before citizen Saint-Just!"

      Madame Teutch closed the door. Charles blew out the light and went to sleep.

      The next morning, about eight o'clock, he was busy arranging his papers, which were more or less in disorder from the visitation of the previous night, when citizeness Teutch rushed into his room, crying: "Here they are! here they are!"

      "Who?" asked Charles.

      "The police, who have come to arrest you, poor dear child!"

      Charles quickly concealed in the bosom of his shirt the second letter which his father had given him—the one to Pichegru; for he feared that it might be taken from him and not returned.

      The police entered and informed the boy of the object of their visit. Charles declared himself ready to follow them.

      As he passed the citizeness Teutch, he gave her a look, which signified: "Don't forget!"

      She replied by a slight movement of the head, which meant: "Don't be afraid."

      The police led the way on foot.

      They were obliged to pass before Euloge Schneider's house in order to reach the prison. For a moment Charles thought of asking to be led before the man to whom he had brought a letter of recommendation, and with whom he had dined the day previous; but he saw the guillotine before the door, and near it an empty carriage, while on the doorstep stood Master Nicholas. Remembering what had occurred there, he shook his head in disgust, murmuring as he did so: "Poor Mademoiselle de Brumpt! God help her!"

      The boy believed in God; it is true he was but a child.

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      Scarcely had Charles and the men who were conducting him passed Schneider's door than it opened, and the Commissioner of the Republic came out, glanced tenderly at the instrument of death, packed neatly in a cart, made a slight sign of friendly greeting to Master Nicholas, and got into the empty carriage. Standing there for an instant, he said to Master Nicholas: "And you?"

      The latter pointed to a sort of cab that was rapidly approaching which contained two men, his assistants; the cab was his own conveyance.

      Everything

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