De Lescure had opened the summer door leading into the garden as he came up stairs, to have it ready for his exit, and he, and those under his care, escaped through it into the garden.

"Shut the garden door," roared Henri to him from the top of the staircase. "Shut the door, whatever you do." De Lescure could not understand his object, but he trusted his cousin, and closed the door as he pa.s.sed through it. Henri had perceived that it would be impossible for him to regain the hall, and had resolved to jump from the window of the staircase into the garden, with his precious burden in his arms. He foresaw that if the door were left open, pursuit through it would be both inevitable and fatal.

Marie's room was close to the top of the stairs, and her lover did not use much ceremony in opening the door. In going to and from his wife's chamber, de Lescure had not pa.s.sed it, and therefore the innocent girl slept soundly till Henri's sudden entrance roused her from her dreams.

"Who's that--who's that," said she, raising her head upon her pillow.

The window curtains of the room were hardly closed, and she recognised immediately Henri's tall figure, and singular costume. "Oh! Henri, what has happened? what brings you here?"

"Rise, dearest, we must fly," said he: "we have not a moment--we fear the blues are coming." He dreaded that she would have lost all power of motion, had he told her that they were already beneath the windows.

"Haven't I time to dress?" said she; "I won't be a moment--not one minute."

"No, darling," answered he, raising her from the bed, as though she were an infant, and folding her in her brother's cloak. "We haven't one instant to throw away. Remember who has you in his arms: remember that it is I, your own Henri, who am pressing you to my heart." He took her up from the bed in his left arm, and with his right hand arraigned the cloak around her person, and carrying her out into the pa.s.sage, hurried to the window which he had left open.

This window looked from the opposite end of the house to that at which Westerman found the open door. It was on the first landing of the staircase, and was therefore distant from the ground but little more than half the height of the ground floor, but a hard gravel path ran immediately under it; and though the leap was one which few young men might much hesitate to take with empty arms, it was perilous with such a burden as Henri had to carry. He however did not think twice about it, and would have considered himself and his charge nearly safe could he have reached the window unmolested, but that he was not allowed to do.

As he began to descend the stairs the loud noise of the troopers' boots, and the quick voice of Westerman giving his commands in the hall, told him at once that the house was already occupied by the blues. Even then, at that awful moment, he rejoiced at his precaution in having desired de Lescure to close the garden door. He took a large horse pistol from his belt, and holding it by the barrel, jumped down three stairs at a time, and already had his foot on the sill of the open window, when serjeant Craucher, who had been the first of the blues to enter the house, rushing up the stairs, succeeded in getting hold of the cloak which covered Marie. He pulled it from off her neck and shoulders, and her beautiful dark cl.u.s.tering curls fell down over Henri's shoulder. Her pale face, and white neck and bosom were exposed: her eyes were fast closed, as though she expected instant death, but both her arms were tightly fastened round her lover.

Craucher stumbled in his hurry in rushing up the stairs, but he still held fast to the collar of the cloak.

"I must stop your further journey, my pretty dear," said he: "the night air is not good for you--by heavens it's the red--"

He never finished his speech, or attempted to make another. On entering the back door he had struck his brazen head-piece against the lintel; the shock had broken the clasp, and his head was consequently bare. As he pulled at the cloak, Henri raised his right arm powerfully, and drove the b.u.t.t-end of the pistol which he held, right through his skull, and scattered his brains upon the staircase. The grasp of the dying man was so firm that he could not extricate the cloak from his fingers. He saw that his only chance of escape was to relinquish it; he did so, and as he leapt from the window to the ground, poor Marie had nothing round her but her slight night dress.

Henri stumbled as he came to the hard gravel, but still he allowed no portion of Marie's body to touch the ground. He recovered himself in a moment, and made for the iron gate leading from the garden to the wood, through which de Lescure and his wife had escaped.

As Henri leapt from the window Westerman's eye had caught sight of the red scarf, and he knew that it was Larochejaquelin who was escaping. He rushed himself to the window, though, had he known it, he might have gone into the garden through the door, which was close at his hand. He leapt on the path, and was immediately on Henri's track. It was about three hundred yards from the house to the iron gate, and when Westerman was again on his feet, Henri had covered two thirds of the distance.

Run now, Henri, run your best, for the load you carry is heavy, and the German is strong and light of foot; his pistols, too, are loaded, and he well knows how to use them; but yours are empty, and you will not find another bare skull opposed to your heavy right hand; run, dear friend, and loving cousin; run faster with that precious trembling burden of yours, or all you have yet done, will have been done in vain.

But what avails his running: he did run fast and well, laden as he was, and fatigued with no ordinary day's work: he gained the gate, while as yet his pursuer was above a hundred yards behind him; but of what avail would that be, if he were obliged to leave the pa.s.sage free for his enemy: it was impossible that he should continue to hold his ground, while he carried the fainting girl in his arms. It was then that that wonderful presence of mind, in the midst of the most urgent danger, of which Henri Larochejaquelin showed so many instances during war, stood him in stead, and saved two lives, when salvation seemed impossible.

In wandering about the place some days before, he had pa.s.sed through this gate, and observing that the key stood in the lock, he had idly turned it backwards and forwards, locking and relocking the gate without an object; he had then observed that though the key worked easily, there was something wrong about the wards which prevented him from drawing it out after the lock was turned. The gate was made of iron bars, which were far enough asunder to allow of his hand and arm being pa.s.sed through, so that when outside the gate he could then turn the key which was on the inside.

All these particulars he remembered in that moment of agony, and resolved what he would do to overcome the difficulties which they threw in his way. Having pa.s.sed through the gate, he dropped his now senseless companion beneath the shelter of the wall, and pa.s.sing his hands through the bars, turned the key and locked it. He then took out a short hunting-knife which he wore, and pa.s.sing that also through the bars of the gate, he inserted it in the handle of the key, and then wrenching it round with all his force, broke the key in the wards: all the smiths in Poitou could not have locked the gate closer, or made it more impossible to open it.

Though the feat is tedious to explain, it did not take half a minute in performance; but still it allowed Westerman to come within pistol shot of him before he could get beneath the shelter of the wall. The German, however, in his anxiety to get through the gate, omitted to fire, though he had the pistol in his hand; he seized hold of the iron bars and shook them impotently: strong as he was, the gate was much too firm to be moved by his strength; the wall was twelve feet high, and utterly beyond his power to scale without a ladder.

He felt that he was foiled, and returned to the chateau to wreak his vengeance upon the inhabitants who might be left there, and on the furniture and walls of the house itself.

Henri pursued his way unopposed, and at the appointed spot, a little greensward surrounded by seven lime trees, he found his cousin and the rest of the party waiting for him, as well as Francois with the waggon.

"Is she safe--is she alive?" asked Madame de Lescure, almost frantic with grief and fear.

"She is alive, and I believe unhurt," said Henri; "but I fear she is senseless. She is quite undressed, too, as I was obliged to leave the cloak in which I had covered her, in the dying grasp of a trooper whom I killed." He gently laid her down, with her head in the lap of her kind sister, and then turned his back upon the party, that he might not gaze on the fair bosom, which was all exposed, and the naked limbs, which her dishevelled night dress did not suffice to cover.

Madame de Lescure and her nurse hastened to strip themselves of a portion of their clothes; it had been lucky that neither of them were undressed at the time of the attack, and though they were ill-prepared for a long journey, having neither caps nor strong shoes, nor shawls of any kind, yet they contrived between them to dress poor Marie decently.

The nurse gave her shoes and stockings, declaring that going barefoot would not trouble her the least, and before many minutes had been wasted, they were again ready to proceed.

De Lescure and Henri had not lost these precious moments: the waggon was again put into motion: the three men carefully armed themselves: they loaded their pistols, for among the goods they were taking away, was the little remnant of gunpowder which was left among them: they decided that on hearing the first sound of pursuit, they would leave the waggon, and betake themselves to the thickest part of the woods; but both de Lescure and Henri were of opinion that they would not be followed.

"There cannot be many of them," said Henri, "and what there are, are all mounted. They are the German hussars; I know them by their brazen helmets. They won't attempt to follow us through the woods."

"They would have been after us before now had they intended doing so,"

said de Lescure. "The way was clear for them through the farm-yard, Francois, was it not?"

"No, Monseigneur," said Francois. "It was anything but clear. I turned the big bull out of his stall into the yard as I came out, and closed the gate behind me: he would gore a dozen of them before they could make their way through."

Whether the pursuit was arrested by the bull, or prevented by any other cause, the fugitives were not interrupted. They walked wearily and painfully, but yet patiently, and without a complaint above a league, before the women ventured to get upon the waggon. They then got out upon the road to Bressuire, at no great distance from that town, and on reaching Bressuire they got refreshment and proper clothes, and hired a voiture for the remainder of their journey.

Marie had hardly spoken from the moment when Henri dragged her from her bed, to that in which he helped her in the waggon; but after she had been sitting for a while, she indulged in a flood of tears, which she had restrained as long as she felt that her life depended on her exertions, and then calling Henri to her side, she thanked him, as she so well knew how to do, for all he had done for her.

"You have saved my life, dearest, now," said she, "and ten times more than my life; but I will not say that I love you better than I did before. Had I not known that it was your arms which were around me, I must have died when that horrid countenance glared over me on the stairs. Have I dreamt since, or was I really looking upon that face, when the agony of death came across it?" And as she asked the question, she closed her eyes, and her whole body trembled violently.

"I will tell you all that happened another time, love," said he; "we will not talk of these things now. A day or two at Durbelliere will restore you to your spirits, and then we will rejoice over our escape."

They got into a voiture at Bressuire, and from thence continued their journey in something more like comfort, while Francois with the waggon followed them; but the two ladies were not destined to reach Durbelliere that night. When they were about half-way between Bressuire and the chateau, they were met by a man on horseback, who was already on his way to Clisson. It was Jean Stein, who was hurrying as fast as his beast could carry him from Durbelliere to M. Larochejaquelin; but instead of explaining now what was the purport of his errand, we will return to Clisson, and see how Westerman finished there the task he had undertaken.

When he found himself foiled at the gate, he returned as quickly as possible to the house. His men had already ransacked every room, and in their anxiety to find the more distinguished inhabitants of the chateau, allowed the domestics to escape; but few of them had been in bed, and even they were overlooked in the anxiety of the troopers to find M. de Lescure. They did not dream that any warning could have been given to the chateau, nor could they conceive it possible that at three o'clock in the morning the royalists should have been up, and ready for instant flight. It was not till nearly five that they satisfied themselves that neither de Lescure nor his wife, nor any of his family were in the house; and then, at the command of their General, they commenced the work of destruction.

The troopers got hay and straw from the farm-yard (not without some opposition from the loose bull,) and piled them in every room in the chateau; they then took the furniture, beds, curtains, wearing apparel, and every article of value they could find, and placed them in heaps, in such a way as to render them an immediate prey to the flames. They did the same to the barns and granaries, in which there were large stores of corn, and also to the stables, in which stood the horses and cattle; the bull, which Francois had loosened, was the only animal about the place that did not perish. Having systematically prepared the chateau and out-houses for a huge bonfire, they put a light to the straw in various places, and re-mounting their horses, stood around it till they saw that no efforts which the peasants might use could extinguish the flames. Westerman then gave the word of command for their return; they started at a sharp trot, and he did not allow them to slacken their pace till he had again pa.s.sed the ruins of the little village of Amaillou.

While the troopers were thus preparing to set the chateau in a blaze, the General himself was not idle; he seated himself in the salon, and having had pen, ink, and paper brought to him, he wrote the following despatch to the President of the Convention, in which, it will be observed, he studiously omitted all mention of the defeat which he had incurred between Amaillou and Clisson, and the retreat which his army had been forced to make. The date is given in the denomination which will be intelligible to the reader, as the Fructidors and the Messidors, Brumaires and Nivoses, which had then been adopted by the republicans, now convey no very defined idea to people, who have not yet scrupled to call the months by their old aristocratic names, or to count the year from their Saviour's birth.

"Chateau of Clisson, July 1798.

"Citizen President,

"I have the honour to acquaint you that I have already succeeded in carrying the arms of the Convention as far as the residence of the most powerful of the rebel leaders. As I am writing, my men are preparing to set fire to this den of aristocratic infamy, and within an hour the stronghold of the redoubted de Lescure will be level with the ground.

"This wretched country is so crowded with ravines and rocks, and the roads are so narrow, so deep, and so bad, that I have been forced to make my way hither with a small detachment of thirty men only, but I have found that sufficient to drive the tiger from his lair. He, and the other rebel leader, Larochejaquelin, have fled into the woods, without either money, arms, or even clothing; and I doubt not soon to be able to inform the Convention that, at any rate, they can never again put themselves at the head of a rebellious army.

"Citizen President, deign to receive from my hands the only trophies which I have deemed myself justified in rescuing from the flames which are about to consume this accursed chateau. I enclose the will and a miniature portrait of the aristocrat, de Lescure.

"I pray you to receive, and to make acceptable to the Convention, the most distinguished,

"&c. &c. &c.

"WESTERMAN."

CHAPTER IX.

SANTERRE.

Santerre and Adolphe Denot left the main army at Thouars, and made their way to Argenton with about four thousand men. From thence, Durbelliere was distant about four leagues; and Santerre lost no time in making his preparations for destroying that chateau, as Westerman was at the same moment doing at Clisson. Generally speaking, the people of the towns, even in La Vendee sided with the republicans; but the people of Argenton were supposed to be royalists, and Santerre therefore gave positive orders that every house in it should be destroyed. He did not, however, himself want to see the horrid work done, but hurried on to Durbelliere, that he might, if possible, surprise the Vendean chiefs, whom he believed to be staying there. About one hundred and fifty men followed him, and the remainder of the army was to march on to Bressuire, as soon as Argenton was in ashes.

Santerre, since he had left the company of the other Generals at Thouars, had become more familiar and confidential with Denot, and rode side by side with him from Argenton, talking freely about the manners of the country, and the hopes of the royalists, till he succeeded in getting the traitor into good humour, and obtaining from him something like a correct idea of the state of the country.