not understand, so she ignored the harridan and bent over Kitty to help her to her feet, revealing the hem of a warm flannel petticoat beneath her peasant kirtle.
‘
Mon Dieu
, what have we here?’ the woman cried, lifting Judith’s skirt and flinging it over her head. ‘Look at this! Petticoats and drawers!’ And with that she kicked Judith’s backside, toppling her face down into the mud, amid raucous laughter.
‘And this!’ another said, pulling Kitty to her feet and subjecting her to the same treatment. ‘Two petticoats, one flannel and one fine cotton trimmed with lace. And look here, a corset!
Citoyennes
, I do believe we have found ourselves a couple of aristos.’
All this was spoken idiomatically and very quickly, so that Kitty’s French was unequal to the task of translation, but she did recognise the word ‘aristos’.
‘No,’ she said in halting French. ‘We are not aristocrats, but ordinary British citizens.’
‘Anglais!’
One of the women spat at them. ‘Enemies of the Republic. Enemies of France.
À la lanterne!’
The women seemed to have forgotten their original purpose and abandoned the flour and sugar. They grabbed Kitty and Judith and forced them to march with them, shouting, ‘
À la lanterne! ’
Kitty struggled in vain and Judith’s invective against the heathen scum, as she called them, along with other names Kitty was shocked to hear, only served to inflame the mob even more and Kitty was obliged to tell her to be quiet.
At regular intervals all along the banks of the Seine, facing the Palais de Justice, there were posts erected to hold street lamps, but it was clear they were used as instruments of execution, for many of them held dangling corpses. Kitty was sickened by them and terrified when she realised that the women meant to add her and Judith to their number.
‘No! No!’ she screamed, trying vainly to break free. ‘We have done no wrong.’
Somehow Judith threw off her captors and hurled herself at those who held Kitty. ‘You let her go! Let my darling go, you imbeciles!’ The last word was easily translated which increased the women’s fury; several of them flung themselves at Judith, holding her while others found a rope. In front of Kitty’s horrified eyes, they fashioned a noose and put it over Judith’s head, then flung the rope over the projecting arm of the lamp post and hauled the struggling woman to the top, screaming with triumphant laughter.
‘Voyons l’aristos! Crache donc sur l’aristo.’
And, suiting action to words, they spat on the hem of Judith’s skirt as it passed them at face level.
‘Oh, God have mercy!’ Kitty cried, as others grabbed her and marched her, stumbling, to the next lamp, leaving Judith’s still-twitching body swinging in the breeze.
‘No! No! No!’ Kitty screamed as they slipped a second rope over her head.
‘Wait,
citoyennes
,’ one of them said. ‘Let us not spoil those beautiful petticoats.’
In seconds Kitty’s clothes had been stripped from her, leaving her in nothing but a shift. She felt the rope tighten about her neck as they began to haul on it. The breath was forced from her body and blessed darkness closed in on her.
The women who crowded the streets impeded Jack’s progress. He encountered them everywhere he went: the Palais Royal, the Palais de Justice, the Tuileries, scene of so much destruction and bloodshed when the King was arrested, along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Arsenal and in every connecting road. It was clear that this was what his fellow card-players had predicted, probably incited.
It would be foolhardy to continue his search for James; it was more important to return to Kitty and Judith and ensure their safety. He was thankful that at the moment the rioting women were only interested in food shops, but it would not be long before they began systematically raiding other premises and the woodworkers might easily be next. If the ladies were found on Pierre’s property, then
‘
Mon Dieu
, what have we here?’ the woman cried, lifting Judith’s skirt and flinging it over her head. ‘Look at this! Petticoats and drawers!’ And with that she kicked Judith’s backside, toppling her face down into the mud, amid raucous laughter.
‘And this!’ another said, pulling Kitty to her feet and subjecting her to the same treatment. ‘Two petticoats, one flannel and one fine cotton trimmed with lace. And look here, a corset!
Citoyennes
, I do believe we have found ourselves a couple of aristos.’
All this was spoken idiomatically and very quickly, so that Kitty’s French was unequal to the task of translation, but she did recognise the word ‘aristos’.
‘No,’ she said in halting French. ‘We are not aristocrats, but ordinary British citizens.’
‘Anglais!’
One of the women spat at them. ‘Enemies of the Republic. Enemies of France.
À la lanterne!’
The women seemed to have forgotten their original purpose and abandoned the flour and sugar. They grabbed Kitty and Judith and forced them to march with them, shouting, ‘
À la lanterne! ’
Kitty struggled in vain and Judith’s invective against the heathen scum, as she called them, along with other names Kitty was shocked to hear, only served to inflame the mob even more and Kitty was obliged to tell her to be quiet.
At regular intervals all along the banks of the Seine, facing the Palais de Justice, there were posts erected to hold street lamps, but it was clear they were used as instruments of execution, for many of them held dangling corpses. Kitty was sickened by them and terrified when she realised that the women meant to add her and Judith to their number.
‘No! No!’ she screamed, trying vainly to break free. ‘We have done no wrong.’
Somehow Judith threw off her captors and hurled herself at those who held Kitty. ‘You let her go! Let my darling go, you imbeciles!’ The last word was easily translated which increased the women’s fury; several of them flung themselves at Judith, holding her while others found a rope. In front of Kitty’s horrified eyes, they fashioned a noose and put it over Judith’s head, then flung the rope over the projecting arm of the lamp post and hauled the struggling woman to the top, screaming with triumphant laughter.
‘Voyons l’aristos! Crache donc sur l’aristo.’
And, suiting action to words, they spat on the hem of Judith’s skirt as it passed them at face level.
‘Oh, God have mercy!’ Kitty cried, as others grabbed her and marched her, stumbling, to the next lamp, leaving Judith’s still-twitching body swinging in the breeze.
‘No! No! No!’ Kitty screamed as they slipped a second rope over her head.
‘Wait,
citoyennes
,’ one of them said. ‘Let us not spoil those beautiful petticoats.’
In seconds Kitty’s clothes had been stripped from her, leaving her in nothing but a shift. She felt the rope tighten about her neck as they began to haul on it. The breath was forced from her body and blessed darkness closed in on her.
The women who crowded the streets impeded Jack’s progress. He encountered them everywhere he went: the Palais Royal, the Palais de Justice, the Tuileries, scene of so much destruction and bloodshed when the King was arrested, along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Arsenal and in every connecting road. It was clear that this was what his fellow card-players had predicted, probably incited.
It would be foolhardy to continue his search for James; it was more important to return to Kitty and Judith and ensure their safety. He was thankful that at the moment the rioting women were only interested in food shops, but it would not be long before they began systematically raiding other premises and the woodworkers might easily be next. If the ladies were found on Pierre’s property, then
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