Five years of disappointment and sorrow had sadly changed her to outward view. Her face looked thinner and longer; the once delicate red and white of her complexion5 was gone; her figure had wasted under the influence of some weakness, which had already made her stoop a little when she walked. Her manner had lost its maiden6 shyness, only to become unnaturally7 quiet and subdued8. Of all the charms which had so fatally, yet so innocently, allured9 her heartless husband, but one remained—the winning gentleness of her voice. It might be touched now and then with a note of sadness, but the soft attraction of its even, natural tone still remained. In the marring of all other harmonies, this one harmony had been preserved unchanged. Her brother, though his face was careworn10, and his manner sadder than of old, looked less altered from his former self. It is the most fragile material which soonest shows the flaw. The world’s idol11, Beauty, holds its frailest12 tenure13 of existence in the one Temple where we most love to worship it.
“And so you think, Louis, that our perilous14 undertaking15 has really ended well by this time?” said Rose, anxiously, as she lighted the lamp and placed the glass shade over it. “What a relief it is only to hear you say you think we have succeeded at last!”
“I said I hope, Rose,” replied her brother.
“Well, even hoped is a great word from you, Louis—a great word from any one in this fearful city, and in these days of Terror.”
She stopped suddenly, seeing her brother raise his hand in warning. They looked at each other in silence and listened. The sound of footsteps going slowly past the house—ceasing for a moment just beyond it—then going on again—came through the open window. There was nothing else, out-of-doors or in, to disturb the silence of the night—the deadly silence of Terror which, for months past, had hung over Paris. It was a significant sign of the times, that even a passing footstep, sounding a little strangely at night, was subject for suspicion, both to brother and sister—so common a subject, that they suspended their conversation as a matter of course, without exchanging a word of explanation, until the tramp of the strange footsteps had died away.
“Louis,” continued Rose, dropping her voice to a whisper, after nothing more was audible, “when may I trust our secret to my husband?”
“Not yet!” rejoined Trudaine, earnestly. “Not a word, not a hint of it, till I give you leave. Remember, Rose, you promised silence from the first. Everything depends on your holding that promise sacred till I release you from it.”
“I will hold it sacred; I will indeed, at all hazards, under all provocations,” she answered.
“That is quite enough to reassure16 me—and now, love, let us change the subject. Even these walls may have ears, and the closed door yonder may be no protection.” He looked toward it uneasily while he spoke17. “By-the-by, I have come round to your way of thinking, Rose, about that new servant of mine—there is something false in his face. I wish I had been as quick to detect it as you were.”
Rose glanced at him affrightedly. “Has he done anything suspicious? Have you caught him watching you? Tell me the worst, Louis.”
“Hush18! hush! my dear, not so loud. Don’t alarm yourself; he has done nothing suspicious.”
“Turn him off—pray, pray turn him off, before it is too late!”
“And be denounced by him, in revenge, the first night he goes to his Section. You forget that servants and masters are equal now. I am not supposed to keep a servant at all. I have a citizen living with me who lays me under domestic obligations, for which I make a pecuniary19 acknowledgment. No! no! if I do anything, I must try if I can’t entrap20 him into giving me warning. But we have got to another unpleasant subject already—suppose I change the topic again? You will find a little book on that table there, in the corner—tell me what you think of it.”
The book was a copy of Corneille’s “Cid,” prettily21 bound in blue morocco. Rose was enthusiastic in her praises. “I found it in a bookseller’s shop, yesterday,” said her brother, “and bought it as a present for you. Corneille is not an author to compromise any one, even in these times. Don’t you remember saying the other day that you felt ashamed of knowing but little of our greatest dramatist?” Rose remembered well, and smiled almost as happily as in the old times over her present. “There are some good engravings at the beginning of each act,” continued Trudaine, directing her attention rather earnestly to the illustrations, and then suddenly leaving her side when he saw that she became interested in looking at them.
He went to the window—listened—then drew aside the curtain, and looked up and down the street. No living soul was in sight. “I must have been mistaken,” he thought, returning hastily to his sister; “but I certainly fancied I was followed in my walk to-day by a spy.”
“I wonder,” asked Rose, still busy over her book, “I wonder, Louis, whether my husband would let me go with you to see ‘Le Cid’ the next time it is acted.”
“No!” cried a voice at the door; “not if you went on your knees to ask him.”
Rose turned round with a scream. There stood her husband on the threshold, scowling22 at her, with his hat on, and his hands thrust doggedly23 into his pockets. Trudaine’s servant announced him, with an insolent24 smile, during the pause that followed the discovery. “Citizen Superintendent25 Danville, to visit the citoyenne, his wife,” said the fellow, making a mock bow to his master.
Rose looked at her brother, then advanced a few paces toward the door. “This is a surprise,” she said, faintly; “has anything happened? We—we didn’t expect you.” Her voice failed her as she saw her husband advancing, pale to his very lips with suppressed anger.
“How dare you come here, after what I told you?” he asked, in quick, low tones.
She shrank at his voice almost as if he had struck her. The blood flew into her brother’s face as he noticed the action; but he controlled himself, and, taking her hand, led her in silence to a chair.
“I forbid you to sit down in his house,” said Danville, advancing still; “I order you to come back with me! Do you hear? I order you.”
He was approaching nearer to her, when he caught Trudaine’s eye fixed on him, and stopped. Rose started up, and placed herself between them.
“Oh, Charles, Charles!” she said to her husband, “be friends with Louis to-night, and be kind again to me. I have a claim to ask that much of you, though you may not think it!”
He turned away from her, and laughed contemptuously. She tried to speak again, but Trudaine touched her on the arm, and gave her a warning look.
“Signals!” exclaimed Danville; “secret signals between you!”
His eye, as he glanced suspiciously at his wife, fell on Trudaine’s gift-book, which she still held unconsciously.
“What book is that?” he asked.
“Only a play of Corneille’s,” answered Rose; “Louis has just made me a present of it.”
At this avowal26 Danville’s suppressed anger burst beyond all control.
“Give it him back!” he cried, in a voice of fury. “You shall take no presents from him; the venom27 of the household spy soils everything he touches. Give it him back!” She hesitated. “You won’t?” He tore the book from her with an oath, threw it on the floor, and set his foot on it.
“Oh, Louis! Louis! for God’s sake, remember.”
Trudaine was stepping forward as the book fell to the floor. At the same moment his sister threw her arms round him. He stopped, turning from fiery28 red to ghastly pale.
“No, no, Louis!” she said, clasping him closer; “not after five years’ patience. No—no!”
He gently detached her arms.
“You are right, love. Don’t be afraid; it is all over now.”
Saying that, he put her from him, and in silence took up the book from the floor.
“Won’t that offend you even?” said Danville, with an insolent smile. “You have a wonderful temper—any other man would have called me out!”
Trudaine looked back at him steadily29; and taking out his handkerchief, passed it over the soiled cover of the book.
“If I could wipe the stain of your blood off my conscience as easily as I can wipe the stain of your boot off this book,” he said quietly, “you should not live another hour. Don’t cry, Rose,” he continued, turning again to his sister: “I will take care of your book for you until you can keep it yourself.”
“You will do this! you will do that!” cried Danville, growing more and more exasperated30, and letting his anger got the better even of his cunning now. “Talk less confidently of the future—you don’t know what it has in store for you. Govern your tongue when you are in my presence; a day may come when you will want my help—my help; do you hear that?”
Trudaine turned his face from his sister, as if he feared to let her see it when those words were spoken.
“The man who followed me to-day was a spy—Danville’s spy!” That thought flashed across his mind, but he gave it no utterance31. There was an instant’s pause of silence; and through it there came heavily on the still night air the rumbling32 of distant wheels. The sound advanced nearer and nearer—advanced and ceased under the window.
Danville hurried to it, and looked out eagerly. “I have not hastened my return without reason. I wouldn’t have missed this arrest for anything!” thought he, peering into the night.
The stars were out, but there was no moon. He could not recognize either the coach or the persons who got out of it, and he turned again into the interior of the room. His wife had sunk into a chair, her brother was locking up in a cabinet the book which he had promised to take care of for her. The dead silence made the noise of slowly ascending33 footsteps on the stairs painfully audible. At last the door opened softly.
“Citizen Danville, health and fraternity!” said Lomaque, appearing in the doorway34, followed by his agents. “Citizen Louis Trudaine?” he continued, beginning with the usual form.
Rose started out of her chair; but her brother’s hand was on her lips before she could speak.
“My name is Louis Trudaine,” he answered.
“Charles!” cried his sister, breaking from him and appealing to her husband, “who are these men? What are they here for?”
He gave her no answer.
“Louis Trudaine,” said Lomaque, slowly, drawing the order from his pocket, “in the name of the Republic, I arrest you.”
“Rose, come back,” cried Trudaine.
It was too late; she had broken from him, and in the recklessness of terror, had seized her husband by the arm.
“Save him!” she cried. “Save him, by all you hold dearest in the world! You are that man’s superior, Charles—order him from the room!”
Danville roughly shook her hand off his arm.
“Lomaque is doing his duty. Yes,” he added, with a glance of malicious35 triumph at Trudaine, “yes, doing his duty. Look at me as you please—your looks won’t move me. I denounced you! I admit it—I glory in it! I have rid myself of an enemy, and the State of a bad citizen. Remember your secret visits to the house in the Rue36 de Clery!”
His wife uttered a cry of horror. She seized his arm again with both hands—frail, trembling hands—that seemed suddenly nerved with all the strength of a man’s.
“Come here—come here! I must and will speak to you!”
She dragged him by main force a few paces back, toward an unoccupied corner of the room. With deathly cheeks and wild eyes she raised herself on tiptoe, and put her lips to her husband’s ear. At that instant Trudaine called to her:
“Rose, if you speak I am lost!”
She stopped at the sound of his voice, dropped her hold on her husband’s arm, and faced her brother, shuddering37.
“Rose,” he continued, “you have promised, and your promise is sacred. If you prize your honor, if you love me, come here—come here, and be silent.”
He held out his hand. She ran to him; and, laying her head on his bosom38, burst into a passion of tears.
Danville turned uneasily toward the police agents. “Remove your prisoner,” he said. “You have done your duty here.”
“Only half of it,” retorted Lomaque, eying him attentively39. “Rose Danville—”
“My wife!” exclaimed the other. “What about my wife?”
“Rose Danville,” continued Lomaque, impassibly, “you are included in the arrest of Louis Trudaine.”
Rose raised her head quickly from her brother’s breast. His firmness had deserted40 him—he was trembling. She heard him whispering to himself, “Rose, too! Oh, my God! I was not prepared for that.” She heard these words, and dashed the tears from her eyes, and kissed him, saying:
“I am glad of it, Louis. We risked all together—we shall now suffer together. I am glad of it!”
Danville looked incredulously at Lomaque, after the first shock of astonishment41 was over.
“Impossible!” he exclaimed. “I never denounced my wife. There is some mistake; you have exceeded your orders.”
“Silence!” retorted Lomaque, imperiously. “Silence, citizen, and respect to a decree of the Republic!”
“You blackguard! show me the arrest-order!” said Danville. “Who has dared to denounce my wife?”
“You have!” said Lomaque, turning on him with a grin of contempt. “You—and ‘blackguard’ back in your teeth! You, in denouncing her brother! Aha! we work hard in our office; we don’t waste time in calling names—we make discoveries. If Trudaine is guilty, your wife is implicated43 in his guilt42. We know it; and we arrest her.”
“I resist the arrest,” cried Danville. “I am the authority here. Who opposes me?”
The impassible chief agent made no answer. Some new noise in the street struck his quick ear. He ran to the window and looked out eagerly.
“Who opposes me?” reiterated44 Danville.
“Hark!” exclaimed Lomaque, raising his hand. “Silence, and listen!”
The heavy, dull tramp of men marching together became audible as he spoke. Voices humming low and in unison45 the Marseillaise hymn46, joined solemnly with the heavy, regular footfalls. Soon the flare47 of torch-light began to glimmer48 redder and redder under the dim, starlight sky.
“Do you hear that? Do you see the advancing torch-light?” cried Lomaque, pointing exultingly49 into the street. “Respect to the national hymn, and to the man who holds in the hollow of his hand the destinies of all France! Hat off, Citizen Danville! Robespierre is in the street. His bodyguard50, the Hard-hitters, are lighting him on his way to the Jacobin Club! Who shall oppose you, did you say? Your master and mine; the man whose signature is at the bottom of this order—the man who with a scratch of his pen can send both our heads rolling together into the sack of the guillotine! Shall I call to him as he passes the house? Shall I tell him that Superintendent Danville resists me in making an arrest? Shall I? Shall I?” And in the immensity of his contempt, Lomaque seemed absolutely to rise in stature51, as he thrust the arrest order under Danville’s eyes and pointed52 to the signature with the head of his stick.
Rose looked round in terror, as Lomaque spoke his last words—looked round, and saw her husband recoil53 before the signature on the arrest order, as if the guillotine itself had suddenly arisen before him. Her brother felt her shrinking back in his arms, and trembled for the preservation54 of her self-control if the terror and suspense55 of the arrest lasted any longer.
“Courage, Rose, courage!” he said. “You have behaved nobly; you must not fail now. No, no! Not a word more. Not a word till I am able to think clearly again, and to decide what is best. Courage, love; our lives depend on it. Citizen,” he continued, addressing himself to Lomaque, “proceed with your duty—we are ready.”
The heavy marching footsteps outside were striking louder and louder on the ground; the chanting voices were every moment swelling56 in volume; the dark street was flaming again with the brightening torch-light, as Lomaque, under pretext57 of giving Trudaine his hat, came close to him, and, turning his back toward Danville, whispered: “I have not forgotten the eve of the wedding and the bench on the river bank.”
Before Trudaine could answer, he had taken Rose’s cloak and hood58 from one of his assistants, and was helping59 her on with it. Danville, still pale and trembling, advanced a step when he saw these preparations for departure, and addressed a word or two to his wife; but he spoke in low tones, and the fast-advancing march of feet and sullen60 low roar of singing outside drowned his voice. An oath burst from his lips, and he struck his fist, in impotent fury, on a table near him.
“The seals are set on everything in this room and in the bedroom,” said Magloire, approaching Lomaque, who nodded and signed to him to bring up the other police agents at the door.
“Ready,” cried Magloire, coming forward immediately with his men, and raising his voice to make himself heard. “Where to?”
Robespierre and his Hard-hitters were passing the house. The smoke of the torch-light was rolling in at the window; the tramping footsteps struck heavier and heavier on the ground; the low sullen roar of the Marseillaise was swelling to its loudest, as Lomaque referred for a moment to his arrest-order, and then answered:
“To the prison of St. Lazare!”
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1
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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5
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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6
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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7
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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8
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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9
allured
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| 诱引，吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
careworn
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| adj.疲倦的，饱经忧患的 | |
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idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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frailest
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| 脆弱的( frail的最高级 )； 易损的； 易碎的 | |
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13
tenure
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| n.终身职位；任期；(土地)保有权，保有期 | |
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14
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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15
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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16
reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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17
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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18
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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19
pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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entrap
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| v.以网或陷阱捕捉，使陷入圈套 | |
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21
prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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22
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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23
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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24
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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25
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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28
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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29
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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30
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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31
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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32
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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33
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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34
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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38
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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39
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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40
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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41
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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42
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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43
implicated
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| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
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44
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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46
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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47
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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48
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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49
exultingly
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| 兴高采烈地，得意地 | |
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50
bodyguard
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| n.护卫，保镖 | |
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51
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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52
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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53
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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54
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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55
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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56
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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57
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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58
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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59
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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60
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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