Council of the
Temple to my daughter, to pay a visit to her mother this
evening."
" And you are going out just as your daughter is com-
ing in ? Unnatural father !" said the sergeant.
"I am going much against my inclination, Citizen
Sergeant. I also hope to see my poor child, whom I
have not seen for two months, and to embrace her this
?6 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.
evening. I am going out now. This service, this
damned service, compels me to go out. It is necessary 1
should go to the Commune to make my report. A fiacre
is waiting for me at the door, with two gendarmes, and
it is exactly the time when my poor Sophie will arrive."
" Unhappy parent ! " said the sergeant.
" And, Citizen Sergeant, when my child comes to see
her poor mother, who is dying to see her, you will allow
her to pass ? "
" The order is correct," replied the sergeant, whom the reader has no doubt recognized as our friend Louis ; " so I have nothing to say against it. When your daughter
conies, she can pass."
"Thanks, brave Thermopyle, thanks/' said Tison ; and
he went out to make his report to the Commune, mm
muring, " My poor wife ! how happy she will be ! "
" Do you know, sergeant," said one of the National Guard, seeing Tison depart, and overhearing the last
words, " do you know there is something in this that
makes my blood run cold ? "
"What is it, Citizen Devaux ?" demanded Louis.
" Why," replied the compassionate National Guard,
" to see this man, with his surly face and heart of stone, this pitiless guardian of the queen, go out with his eyes
full of tears, partly of joy, partly of grief, thinking that his wife will see his daughter, and he shall not. It does
not do to reflect upon it too much, sergeant ; it really is grievous."
"Doubtless that is why lie does not reflect upon it
himself, this man who goes out with tears in his eyes, as
you term it."
" Upon what should he reflect ? "
"That it is three months since this woman he so bru-
tally uses has seen her child. He does not think of her
grief, only of his own, that is all. It is true, this woman was queen," continued the sergeant, in an ironical tone, rather difficult of comprehension, " and one is not
obliged to feel the same respect for a queen as for the
wife of a journeyman."
THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. 77
" Notwithstanding, all this is very sad," said Devaux.
"Sad, but necessary," said Louis. "The best way, then, is, as you say, not to reflect." And he began to sing:
" Where the branches met
On a rocky stone,
There I found Nicette
Seated all alone."
Louis was in the midst of his pastoral ditty, when
suddenly a loud noise was heard from the left side of the
post, composed of oaths, menaces, and tears.
"What is that ?" demanded Devaux.
" It sounded like the voice of a child," said Louis, listening.
" In fact," said the National Guard, " it is a poor little one they are beating. Truly they ought only to
send here those who have no children."
" Will you sing ? " said a hoarse and drunken voice.
And the voice sung, in example :
" Madame Veto promised
That all our heads should fall "
" No," said the child, " I will not sing."
"Will you sing ?"
And the voice recommenced :
" Madame Veto promised '
"No, no ! " said the child. " No, no, no !"
"Ah, little beggar!" said the hoarse voice; and the noise of a lash whirring through the air was distinctly
heard. The infant screamed with agony.
"Ah, sacrc bleu!" said Louis, "it is that rascally Simon beating the little Capet."
Several of the National Guards shrugged their shoul-
ders. Two or three tried to smile. Devaux rose and
went out.
" I said truly," murmured lie, " that parents should never enter here."
All at once a low door opened, and the royal child,
78 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.
chased by the whip of his guardian, made a flying leap
into the court, when something hard struck his leg and
fell on the ground behind him.
He stumbled and fell upon his knee.
" Bring me
Temple to my daughter, to pay a visit to her mother this
evening."
" And you are going out just as your daughter is com-
ing in ? Unnatural father !" said the sergeant.
"I am going much against my inclination, Citizen
Sergeant. I also hope to see my poor child, whom I
have not seen for two months, and to embrace her this
?6 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.
evening. I am going out now. This service, this
damned service, compels me to go out. It is necessary 1
should go to the Commune to make my report. A fiacre
is waiting for me at the door, with two gendarmes, and
it is exactly the time when my poor Sophie will arrive."
" Unhappy parent ! " said the sergeant.
" And, Citizen Sergeant, when my child comes to see
her poor mother, who is dying to see her, you will allow
her to pass ? "
" The order is correct," replied the sergeant, whom the reader has no doubt recognized as our friend Louis ; " so I have nothing to say against it. When your daughter
conies, she can pass."
"Thanks, brave Thermopyle, thanks/' said Tison ; and
he went out to make his report to the Commune, mm
muring, " My poor wife ! how happy she will be ! "
" Do you know, sergeant," said one of the National Guard, seeing Tison depart, and overhearing the last
words, " do you know there is something in this that
makes my blood run cold ? "
"What is it, Citizen Devaux ?" demanded Louis.
" Why," replied the compassionate National Guard,
" to see this man, with his surly face and heart of stone, this pitiless guardian of the queen, go out with his eyes
full of tears, partly of joy, partly of grief, thinking that his wife will see his daughter, and he shall not. It does
not do to reflect upon it too much, sergeant ; it really is grievous."
"Doubtless that is why lie does not reflect upon it
himself, this man who goes out with tears in his eyes, as
you term it."
" Upon what should he reflect ? "
"That it is three months since this woman he so bru-
tally uses has seen her child. He does not think of her
grief, only of his own, that is all. It is true, this woman was queen," continued the sergeant, in an ironical tone, rather difficult of comprehension, " and one is not
obliged to feel the same respect for a queen as for the
wife of a journeyman."
THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. 77
" Notwithstanding, all this is very sad," said Devaux.
"Sad, but necessary," said Louis. "The best way, then, is, as you say, not to reflect." And he began to sing:
" Where the branches met
On a rocky stone,
There I found Nicette
Seated all alone."
Louis was in the midst of his pastoral ditty, when
suddenly a loud noise was heard from the left side of the
post, composed of oaths, menaces, and tears.
"What is that ?" demanded Devaux.
" It sounded like the voice of a child," said Louis, listening.
" In fact," said the National Guard, " it is a poor little one they are beating. Truly they ought only to
send here those who have no children."
" Will you sing ? " said a hoarse and drunken voice.
And the voice sung, in example :
" Madame Veto promised
That all our heads should fall "
" No," said the child, " I will not sing."
"Will you sing ?"
And the voice recommenced :
" Madame Veto promised '
"No, no ! " said the child. " No, no, no !"
"Ah, little beggar!" said the hoarse voice; and the noise of a lash whirring through the air was distinctly
heard. The infant screamed with agony.
"Ah, sacrc bleu!" said Louis, "it is that rascally Simon beating the little Capet."
Several of the National Guards shrugged their shoul-
ders. Two or three tried to smile. Devaux rose and
went out.
" I said truly," murmured lie, " that parents should never enter here."
All at once a low door opened, and the royal child,
78 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.
chased by the whip of his guardian, made a flying leap
into the court, when something hard struck his leg and
fell on the ground behind him.
He stumbled and fell upon his knee.
" Bring me
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