The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy (good romance books to read .txt) 📕

other way of getting you and Rosette out of the house and leaving that stupid sergeant and some of his men behind. I did not want to arouse in him even the faintest breath of suspicion, and of course if he had asked me for the written orders which he was actually waiting for, or if his corporal had returned sooner than I anticipated, there might have been trouble. But even then,” he added with his usual careless insouciance, “I should have thought of some way of baffling those brutes.”

“And now,” he concluded more authoritatively, “it is a case of getting out of Paris before the gates close. Père Lenègre, take your wife and daughter with you and walk boldly out of this house. The sergeant and his men have not vacated their post in the Rue Jolivet, and no one else can molest you. Go straight to the Porte de Neuilly, and on the other side wait quietly in the little café at the corner of the Avenue until I come. Your old passes for the barriers still hold good; you were only placed on the ‘suspect’ list this morning, and there has not been a hue and cry yet about you. In any case some of us will be close by to help you if needs be.”

“But you, milor,” stammered Père Lenègre, “and your friends⁠—?”

“La, man,” retorted Blakeney lightly, “have I not told you before never to worry about me and my friends? We have more ways than one of giving the slip to this demmed government of yours. All you’ve got to think of is your wife and your daughter. I am afraid that petite maman cannot take more with her than she has on, but we’ll do all we can for her comfort until we have you all in perfect safety⁠—in England⁠—with Pierre.”

Neither Père Lenègre, nor petite maman, nor Rosette could speak just then, for tears were choking them, but anon when milor stood nearer, petite maman knelt down, and, imprisoning his slender hand in her brown, wrinkled ones, she kissed it reverently.

He laughed and chided her for this.

“ ’Tis I should kneel to you in gratitude, petite maman,” he said earnestly, “you were ready to sacrifice your old man for me.”

“You have saved Pierre, milor,” said the mother simply.

A minute later Père Lenègre and the two women were ready to go. Already milor and his gallant English friends were busy once more transforming themselves into grimy workmen or seedy middle-class professionals.

As soon as the door of apartment No. 12 finally closed behind the three good folk, my lord Tony asked of his chief:

“What about these three wretched soldiers, Blakeney?”

“Oh! they’ll be all right for twenty-four hours. They can’t starve till then, and by that time the concierge will have realised that there’s something wrong with the door of No. 12 and will come in to investigate the matter. Are they securely bound, though?”

“And gagged! Rather!” ejaculated one of the others. “Odds life, Blakeney!” he added enthusiastically, “that was a fine bit of work!”

How Jean Pierre Met the Scarlet Pimpernel

As told by Himself

I

Ah, monsieur! the pity of it, the pity! Surely there are sins which le bon Dieu Himself will condone. And if not⁠—well, I had to risk His displeasure anyhow. Could I see them both starve, monsieur? I ask you! and M. le Vicomte had become so thin, so thin, his tiny, delicate bones were almost through his skin. And Mme. la Marquise! an angel, monsieur! Why, in the happy olden days, before all these traitors and assassins ruled in France, M. and Mme. la Marquise lived only for the child, and then to see him dying⁠—yes, dying, there was no shutting one’s eyes to that awful fact⁠—M. le Vicomte de Mortain was dying of starvation and of disease.

There we were all herded together in a couple of attics⁠—one of which little more than a cupboard⁠—at the top of a dilapidated half-ruined house in the Rue des Pipots⁠—Mme. la Marquise, M. le Vicomte and I⁠—just think of that, monsieur! M. le Marquis had his château, as no doubt you know, on the outskirts of Lyons. A loyal highborn gentleman; was it likely, I ask you, that he would submit passively to the rule of those execrable revolutionaries who had murdered their King, outraged their Queen and Royal family, and, God help them! had already perpetrated every crime and every abomination for which of a truth there could be no pardon either on earth or in Heaven? He joined that plucky but, alas! small and ill-equipped army of royalists who, unable to save their King, were at least determined to avenge him.

Well, you know well enough what happened. The counterrevolution failed; the revolutionary army brought Lyons down to her knees after a siege of two months. She was then marked down as a rebel city, and after the abominable decree of October 9th had deprived her of her very name, and Couthon had exacted bloody reprisals from the entire population for its loyalty to the King, the infamous Laporte was sent down in order finally to stamp out the lingering remnants of the rebellion. By that time, monsieur, half the city had been burned down, and one-tenth and more of the inhabitants⁠—men, women, and children⁠—had been massacred in cold blood, whilst most of the others had fled in terror from the appalling scene of ruin and desolation. Laporte completed the execrable work so ably begun by Couthon. He was a very celebrated and skilful doctor at the Faculty of Medicine, now turned into a human hyena in the name of Liberty and Fraternity.

M. le Marquis contrived to escape with the scattered remnant of the Royalist army into Switzerland. But Mme. la Marquise throughout all these strenuous times had stuck to her post at the château like the valiant creature that she was. When Couthon entered Lyons at the head of the revolutionary army,