Chapter II: Part 2

"Very," said I, as I rang. The door was opened at once, and we were in a hall some twenty feet square, beautifully lit with wax candles in the most charming of silver sconces. There were a few arms on the walls, and a portrait of a girl in a red gown and hoops. The servant who admitted us was in black from head to foot--a very tall man with an immense--an unusual nose, very red cheeks, and enormous ears.

I said, "M. Des Illes is at home?" and he, "Monsieur would oblige with the names, and this way, please." We gave him our cards and went after him. He warned us of a step, and of another, and we came into a little antechamber, where we were pleasantly bid to be seated. He came back at once, followed by the strangest little old gentleman imaginable. I said, "M. Des Illes, I believe?"

"Ah," he cried. "It cannot be that I am deceived. It is Monsieur, my preserver. What a happiness to see you here!" and upon this, to my great embarrassment, he kissed me upon both cheeks, while Pierce grinned at me maliciously over his shoulders.

"It was a small matter," I said.

"To you, no doubt; but not to me. Life is never a small possession to him that owns it. I have friends with me to-night who will feel it to be more than an honor to welcome you. M. Michel and M. Pierce, you said, I think. This is a most fortunate hour."

I said all the effusively pleasant things I could think of, while his servant relieved me of my overcoat. As Pierce was being aided in like manner I had a good look at my host, and made up my mind that he was probably dressed for a fancy ball. He was clearly a quite old man, curiously slight in person, and having almost the delicacy of features of a woman. Also he was clean shaven, wore his hair in a cue tied with black ribbon, and was clad in black silk or satin, with jet buttons, a long waistcoat, a full lace jabot, knee-breeches, black silk stockings, court shoes, and black jet buckles. With some puzzle of mind I concluded it to be a mourning suit of the last century, queer to see at this time and in this place.

As we crossed the antechamber M. Des Illes fluttered about us, gesticulating and talking with vehemence of his great debt to me, who thought it small and embarrassingly made too much of. I have laid away somewhere among my mental negatives a picture of the room into which we went, following our host. There were many candles in sconces, tables and chairs of Louis XV.'s time, and one cabinet of wonderful inlaid work filled with silver.

Two persons rose as we entered. To my surprise, I saw that they also were dressed in black of the same fashion as that worn by my host. All had cues, and, like M. Des Illes, wore swords with black sheaths. One of these gentlemen might have been forty years old, but the other, like my host, was a man far on in life and certainly not much under seventy years. As I stood a moment in the doorway, the two, who were playing piquet, rose, and M. Des Illes, going in before us, turned and said as we entered:

"I have great pleasure to present to you M. Michel, my preserver, of whom I have already told. It is he who has with heroism dragged me from before a swift-coming horse. He with modesty refused me his address. His name I shall forever cherish. Permit me, Duke, to present M. Michel."

I named my friend, who was introduced. Then we were let to know that the older man, who was stout and well built, and who seemed of M. Des Illes's years, was the Duke de St. Maur. He in turn presented to us the youngest of these quaintly clad people, his son, M. de St. Maur. When these gentlemen bowed, for neither did more, they took up much of the room, and in the space left to us--such courtesy being contagious--Pierce and I achieved quite as remarkable salutes.

This ceremony over, we were seated, and the tale of M. Des Illes's rescue having been told once more at too great length, the Duke rose, and, taking my hand, desired me to understand that I had conferred upon him a favor which I must have known M. Des Illes as long as he to understand. When his son had stated that none could better what his father had said, he added, "May it please God, Monsieur, that you never need a friend; and may his providence never leave you without one as good as you yourself have proved to be." I replied in fluent but unequal French, and began to have the keenest desire to know what the mischief all this masquerade might mean.

I soon observed that the politics of the day were out of the talk. When, indeed, we were speaking of pictures, and Pierce mentioned a portrait of the Prince President in the Salon, a manner of chill seemed to fall upon the party, while the Duke said with a certain gentle decisiveness, "You, who are our guests this evening, and will share it with us--may I say for my friend and myself that the person mentioned should never get so far into good society as to be talked of by gentlemen--at least not to-night--not to-night?"

"No," said St. Maur; "not to-night."

Pierce spoke quickly, "You will pardon us, Duke."

The Duke lifted a remonstrating hand. "It is not needed," he said. "And have you seen the great landscape by Diaz? I have the pendant; but now his prices have gone up, and we poor gentlefolk, alas!" Here he took snuff, and M. de St. Maur remarked with a smile, "My good father is never so near extravagance as when he talks of his poverty."

"He is shrewd, the young man, and of distressing economy--a quite modern economy. I bought it to-day." Our laughter set the chat on a less formal footing, and we fell to talking of theaters, actresses, the latest play, and the like, until at last M. Des Illes said. "Pardon, my dear Duke, but the hour is near when we must go down to the cellar."

Meanwhile no one had explained the costumes which appeared to have power to recall into active life the forms of manners with which they seemed to consist so well, the grave courtesies of an hour more patient than that in which we live. "We are at your service," said the Duke, rising. "Our friends must feel by this time as if they were calling on actors behind the scenes at the Odeon. Is it not so?" he added.

"Perhaps," I returned. "But the wise who are well entertained do not ask the name of the inn; at least so they say in Spain."

"Monsieur has found for us a delightful apology," said M. de St. Maur. "Let us leave him to guess our sad riddle; and now, the lanterns."

As he spoke, M. Des Illes came from a closet with lanterns and straw wine-baskets, of which he gave one to each of us. Then the candles in the lanterns were lighted, while Pierce and I, profoundly curious, said nothing.

"A pity," exclaimed the younger St. Maur, "that our friends' modern dress should interpolate a note of to-day."

"We can only regret," said I.

"It is but a wicked little remark, that," returned the Duke. "My son is of to-day, Monsieur. For him this is a masquerade, interesting, droll. But for us, _mon Dieu_! It is----."

"Yes, it is," returned Des Illes gravely.

"Pardon, Duke," said the son, smiling. "Once all these things lived for you and for our friend; but as to me--I have only the memory of another's memory."

"Neatly put!" cried Des Illes. "Almost a _mot_; as near as men get to it in these degenerate days. Well, well, if wit be dead, wine is not. Let us go now among the old memories of which your son speaks. Come, gentlemen."

With these words we went with him through a back room, and thence by a window into a garden. In the uncertain moonlight I saw that it was large, with great walls about it, and the appearance beyond these of tall, leafless trees. We passed a frozen basin and the figure of a dryad, and went after our host into a house for plants, now to appearance disused. At a far corner he lifted a trap-door and went before us down a stone stair to a wine-cellar such as is common in good French houses. Here were bottles and barrels of _vin ordinaire_ for common use. I began to feel an increase of interest when, near the far end of this cellar, M. Des Illes set down his lantern, unlocked a padlock, and, aided by St. Maur, lifted a larger trap-door. With a word of care as to the steps, he showed us the way down a broad stone stairway, and in a minute we were all standing on the rock floor of a great room underground.

As we saw the Duke and his companions hang their lanterns on hooks set in the wall, we did as they had done, and, placing our wine-baskets on casks, began to get used to the cross lights of the lanterns and to look around us. The space seemed to be some thirty feet long and perhaps as much as fifteen feet wide. It was cut out of the soft lime-rock which underlies Paris. Perhaps a dozen casks of wine, on racks, were set along one side of the cave, and over them, on stone shelves excavated in the walls, were hundreds of bottles.

"Be careful of the cobwebs," said Des Illes, and there was need to be. They hung from above in black curtains and in coarse openwork of tangled ropes. They lay over the bottles and across the casks, wonderful for amount and for their dark hue. The spinners of this funereal broidery I could nowhere see. It was the work of generations of arachnidean artists long dead; or else those who lived were hiding, scared, amidst these great pendent festoons. I wondered how the net-makers had lived, for flies there were none, and no other insect life so far as I could see. After this brief survey I observed that the air was cool, and so dry that it was hardly felt to be uncomfortable. The three gentlemen were moving to and fro, exchanging phrases apparently about the wine, and as I joined their little group it became clear that a selection was being made.

"There will be one bottle of the year," said the Duke.

"Yes, of the year," repeated our host.

"Might I ask of what year?" said Pierce.

"Of 1793," replied St. Maur; "the fatal year. Permit me"; and he held the basket wine-cradle while the Duke put on his glasses, and, turning the lantern-light on to a shelf, said: "There are but twelve left."

"Enough for us, friend," said Des Illes, lifting a bottle. "It has the black ribbon on the neck, but the spiders have so covered everything as with a pall, that it was hard to be sure." With this, he turned to me. "It has a black ribbon, you perceive."

"It has," I said, rather puzzled.

"And now, my friends, choose as you will, you cannot go far wrong. The sun of many summers is locked up in these bottles."

"I wall take Chambertin," said the Duke.

"And I, Pomard," said his son.

"And I," said Des Illes, "Romanee Conti. But all here are in the peerage of wines."

Then, when each of this curious company had made his choice, our host said to us:

"It will be best that I choose for you. There is already enough of Burgundy to trouble some toes to-morrow. Shall we say Bordeaux? Here are two of long descent, and one is a comet-wine--of a name long lost--and one is Laffitte, and both are in good order; neither is less than thirty years old. In this changeless atmosphere our great wines are long-lived. Have a care not to disturb the wines as we go up the stairs."

"We shall carry them with care," I replied, laughing, "until we have swallowed them."

"And then without care, I trust," cried the younger St. Maur. "Let us go; it is chilly here."

"A moment," said the Duke. "M. Michel will desire to know why all this costuming, and the bottles in mourning, and this ancient cellar."

"True," I returned. "I was about to ask."

"Well, well," said Des Illes. "A few words here, where they will have the more interest, and then let us mount, and end the tale with such memories as these good wines may suggest."

"This way," said the Duke to me. "Let me show you something." I followed him to the end of the cellar, where, to my surprise, I saw by the light of his lantern a door heavily built and guarded by a bar of wood. This he lifted, and as he opened the door, and we gazed into the deep darkness beyond, he said: "I show you a passageway into the catacombs of Paris, of which this cave must have been a part until built off to be made a cellar somewhere in the reign of Louis XV. And stay. Look at this"; and, turning aside, he showed me, as it lay on a cask, a cobwebbed bit of something.

"What is it?" I said.

"A woman's glove--and it has been here since 1794."

"The rest were better told in a less somber place," said St. Maur. "Let us go." Upon this we went up the stairs and out into the air. As we crossed through the barren shrubbery, each with his lantern and a little basket of wine, I thought that probably Paris could show no stranger sight than this sunken garden-space dark with box, the gentlemen in their dress of another time, and we two Yankees wondering what it all meant.

When at length we reentered M. Des Illes's drawing-room a brighter fire was on the hearth than is common in France. About it M. Des Illes set with care, in their cradles, the half-dozen bottles we had fetched from the cellar. I ventured to say that it would be long before they were warm enough to drink; but the Duke said that was quite a modern notion, and that he liked to warm his wine on the tongue. It seemed to me odd; but I am told it was once thought the thing to have red wines of the temperature of the cellar. When the wine was set at a correct distance from the fire, and the blaze heartened a little with added fuel, M. Des Illes excused himself, and, returning after some twenty minutes, explained that he had been arranging a dressing for the salad, but that it would be an hour before supper could be made ready.

"That," I said, "will give us full leisure to ask some questions."

"_Pardie!_" said St. Maur. "Had I been you, by this time I should have asked fifty."

"No doubt," laughed his father; and then, turning to us, "Usually when we dress as you see, we are alone--Des Illes and I at least--men of a forgotten past. But to-night friendly chance has sent you here, and it were but courteous that we explain what may seem absurd. M. Des Illes will tell you the story."

"It is many years since I heard it," said St. Maur. "I shall be well pleased to hear it once more."

"But it is long."

"_Fi donc_, my friend. The wine will be the better for waiting," said the Duke; "and, after all, some one must tell these gentlemen. As for me, I should spoil a good story."

Then Pierce and I said how delighted we should be to listen, but indeed we little knew how strange a tale we were to hear.

"It shall be as the Duke likes," said M. Des Illes. "Let us move nearer to the fireside. It is chilly, I think." Upon this we drew to the fire. Our host added a small fagot of tender twigs, so that a brief blaze went up and lit the dark velvets and jet buttons of the company.

"You will all have heard it," said Des Illes; "but it is as you desire. It will be new to our friends."

"And surely strange," said the Duke's son.

"My memory may prove short, Duke. If I fail, you will kindly aid me."

"Ah, my friend, neither your wine nor your memory has failed. But make haste, or your supper will be spoiled while we await a tale which is slow in coming."

"The things I shall speak of took place in the month of July, 1794. Alas! this being now 1853, I was in those days close to eleven years of age. My good Duke, here, was himself some two years younger. My father had been purveyor of wines to the Court, as his father had been, and I may say, too, that we were broken-down nobles who liked better this way of earning a meal than by clinging to the skirts of more lucky men of no better blood than we.

"There had been in the far past some kindly relation between my Duke's people and my own, and how it came about I know not, but my grandmother, when the old Duchess died, would have it she must nurse the little Duke, and hence between him, as he grew up, and my father was the resemblance often seen between brothers of one milk. We were all of us, my mother and father and I, living in this house when my story begins, and although in secret we were good servants of the King, we were quietly protected by certain Jacobins who loved good wine. In fact, we did very well and kept our heads from Madame Guillotine, and from suspicion of being enemies of the country, until the sad thing chanced of which I am made to tell the history.

"In the spring of 1793 the Duke, my father's foster-brother, came one day from the country in disguise, and with him this same Duke Henri you see here to-day. I do not now know precisely what had taken place, but I believe the Duke was deep in some vain plots to save the Queen, and wished to be free for a time from the care of his boy. At all events, Duke Henri, a very little fellow, was left with us and became our cousin from Provence. He had a great opinion of his dignity, this dear Duke, in those days, and was like enough to get us all into trouble.

"Early in July 1794 my father was much disturbed in mind. I often saw him at night carrying things into the plant-house, where my mother nursed a few pots of flowers. There was cause, indeed, to trouble any one, what with the merciless guillotine and the massacres. As for us, too, we knew pretty well that at last we were becoming "suspects."

"One evening--it was the 19th of July--my father was away nearly all day, a thing for him quite out of the common. About dusk he came home, and after a few words in haste to my mother called us to help him. On this we were set to work carrying bottles of milk, cheese, bread, and cold meats in baskets to the plant-house, where my father took them from us. Then we went back and forth with blankets, pillows, and more things than I can now recall. After this, it being night, we were told to wait in the house, but no explanation was given us as to what these unusual preparations meant."

"It was this house, this same house," said Duke Henri; "when we had done all that was required of us we sat within doors, wondering what it was for."

"The next day, being July 20th about noon, we boys were playing in the garden when I saw my mother come through the window, and heard her cry out: 'It is ruin, it is ruin; my God, it is ruin!' A moment after came my father with the Duke de St. Maur--Duke Philip, of course. The Duke was speaking vehemently as we boys ran to hear. 'I came to say that I am going to England. I have not a moment. I fear I may have been followed. I grieve to have fetched this trouble upon you.'

"My mother was vexed indeed, and spoke angrily; but my father said, 'No; trouble has been close for days, and the house is watched. For me, there need be no real fear. I have friends, and should be set free quickly, but the Duke!--'

"In the end they would not let Duke Philip go, and urged that now it would bring about a greater peril for all of us if he were caught going out or were seen to come forth.

"'There is a better way,' cried my father. 'Quick! Let us all go down to the lower cave.' The Duke remonstrated, but was cut short, for my father said, 'If you have compromised us, I must judge now what is best.' And so the Duke gave in, and we were all hurried into the plant-house and down the stairs to the first cellar, where were many of the things so long made ready. My father opened the larger trap, and began with great haste to carry down, with our help, all he had left in the cellar above. Every one aided, and it was no sooner done than we heard a noise in the house, or beyond it. 'The officers!' said my father. 'Now you are all safe, and I shall soon come for you.'

"He stood a moment, seeming to hesitate, while my mother and the Duke prayed him to come down and close the trap; but at last he said, 'No; it were better my way,' and shut down the door.

"I heard a great clatter of barrel-staves falling on the trap. I think he had seen the need to take this precaution, and it was this made him run for us and for his friend a perilous risk; his fear, I mean, that unless hidden, the trap would easily be seen by any one who chanced to enter the upper cellar. I should have said that my father lifted the trap a little and cried, 'The good God help thee, Claire!' Then we were at once in darkness, and again the staves were replaced, as one could easily hear. I heard my mother sob, but the one-year-old baby she carried screamed loudly, and this, I think, took up her attention for a time. I was on the stone staircase when my father went by me saying, 'Be good to thy mother.' I sat still awhile, and, the baby ceasing to cry, we remained thus for a time silent in this appalling darkness, like hunted things, with the terror of the time upon us.

"It is a sad story, dear Duke. I wonder how you can wish to hear it again. And will my young friend draw the corks of these bottles, and be careful not to shake the wine?"

St. Maur, saying, "With pleasure, yes," went on to draw the corks.

"What a bouquet has that Chambertin!" said the Duke. "But go on, my friend."

"In a moment or so my mother exclaimed: 'There is something wrong. I must go and see. My husband was to come with us. It has long been so arranged.'

"With great difficulty the Duke persuaded her to run no farther risk. 'If,' he said, 'your husband has been arrested, you can do no good. If he has not, we shall soon hear, and I, myself, will seek to learn where he is.'

"This quieted her for a little while, and we sat still in the darkness, which seemed to grow deeper. I think it must have been an hour before any one spoke, but at times I could hear my mother sob. At last the baby woke up again and made doleful cries, so that the Duke said--and his was the first voice to break the long silence: 'Is there a way to make a light? It may quiet him.'

"My mother said, 'Yes'; and after groping about we found flint and steel, and presently, with a little care, there was a bit of flame and a candle lit. I declare to you, it made things look the more dismal. Later it caused us all to feel a strange and causeless elation. My mother, who was a resolute woman, began to walk about, and the baby, having been given milk, grew quiet. We boys were set to work arranging the mattresses and blankets and all the material my father had by degrees made ready for this hour of need. There was food enough for a stay of many days, and as to wine, there was of that an abundance, and also a barrel of good water.

"After our brief task was over we two little fellows sat most of that long first day beside each other, rarely opening our lips. My mother lay on a mattress, trying to keep the babe quiet, for he used his lungs dangerously well. The Duke walked to and fro restlessly, and by and by carefully put his pistols in order and laid them on a cask. After some hours he became more tranquil and even gay, and kept us all sustained by his gentle goodness and sweet temper, laughing at our fears, recalling to my mother what hopeful words my father had used, and at last almost making her sure that no one would hurt so good a man.

"When the Duke looked at his jeweled watch, which had been used to number more pleasant hours, he told us it was night, and nine o'clock. My mother said prayers, and the candle having been put out, we all lay down and slept as we could. I must have slept well, for it was nine in the morning when I awakened, and I, for one, had to think a little to recover my orientation.

"In this dismal fashion we passed two days. Then, on the third, about noon, as we had heard no noise above us, the Duke and my mother thought we might look out to see if any one were about. This, as I shall tell you, proved a sad business, and had like to have caused our ruin. But of this later.

"The Duke went up the stair, and with difficulty lifted the trapdoor so as to see a little. As no one was in sight, he heaved off the staves my father had cast down, and at last got himself out into the upper cellar. Then he went thence into the plant-house and garden, and at last boldly entered the house, in which was no one, as it had been closed, and, as we learned long after, the seal of the Republic put on the door. In a half hour the Duke returned and took me back into the house, whence we carried a number of things much needed in our cave, such as more candles, and a blanket or two, although this was chiefly for precaution, since the cellar was never cold, nor, as I think of it, damp. We hurried back, and as we did so I asked the Duke about my father. But neither he nor my mother could tell why he had been arrested, as he had managed to keep in good relations with some of the Jacobins. It was quite common to hear of the head of a house being arrested, and then, within a day or two, of the women being likewise hurried to the common fate which awaited all suspects. The Duke seemed to think my father might have had some such fear for us, and desired to put us all in safety, although how in the end this could be of use did not seem very clear.

"When we all got back to the cave and had shut the trap, I sat a long while much oppressed in my small mind; but so, too, were our elders, I fear. As to this my Duke here, he cried a little, but not so that any one knew but myself.

"In this way four miserable days and nights went by, and, thus imprisoned, we knew not what to do. We had waited long, hopeful of my father's return, and, _mon Dieu!_ he came not at all. The Duke was for going forth again at night and some way escaping alone, fearing that to be caught in our company might more surely bring us into trouble when at last we should be forced, soon or late, to come out to the light. Meanwhile, this blackness, for it was not mere darkness, became more terrible than I can make any one comprehend. As I remember, there were long talks of what to do, with vain endings, and, in between, great, awful silences."

"I used to get frightened then," said the Duke, looking up from the fire. "One seemed so absolutely alone. I used to resist for a time, and at last put out a hand to take hold of your mother's skirt for company. Once or twice the poor baby screamed so loud that he had to be kept quiet by a little _eau de vie_, lest some one coming overhead should hear; for, indeed, in this vault his cries seemed like shouts, and one heard better because one could not see. Do you remember that, Des Illes? But I used to wish that baby would cry all day."

"Do I remember? Yes, indeed. Those were not days or things to be easily forgotten. But to go on. The fifth day, when we were all of us becoming distracted, a thing took place which settled some of our doubts. It may have been about six o'clock in the evening when we heard faint noises in the upper cellar. The Duke was first, I think, to notice them; then a footfall passed over the trap, and this was only too plain. The Duke caught my arm and said quietly, 'Come here,' and so saying, drew me to the foot of the stone stairs. This was about, as you know, ten feet high. I could see nothing, but I heard his step as he went up. Then he said, 'Here is a pistol. Be ready to hand it to me--so--so; do not let the powder fall from the pan. I have one pistol. If there are two men and you are quick, these will suffice. If there are three men, we are lost.' It was dark as I stood, for we never used candles save when we ate, and to quiet the baby. I reflected quickly that, as the Duke could not have put back the staves, they who were searching must easily find the trap; and so it was, for just as he said softly, 'Keep still every one,' the trap was lifted a little and a ray of blinding candle-light shot through the narrow space. For a moment I could see nothing because of the glare. Then the trap was carefully raised still higher, and we saw the figure of a kneeling man sustaining the door with his left hand. In the other he held a lantern and a canvas bag. Luckily for us all, the Duke was a person of calm courage. He had seen that the stranger was not an agent of police. 'If you move, you are dead,' he cried, and the muzzle of a pistol on the man's breast made him for the time motionless, and perhaps quickened his wits, for he exclaimed: 'Great heavens! I am not a municipal. God forbid. I am only a thief. Be merciful, sir. I entered the house by a window, and now the officers have come in by a door and I shall be guillotined as an aristocrat.'

"'A pretty tale; I have half a mind to kill you,' said the Duke.

"'Pray the Lord keep the other half!' cried the thief.

"Upon this I heard my mother exclaim: 'No, no; let him come down.'

"'If you fire, I shall be dead, but your pistol will call these scoundrels. I have stolen only this bag of gold. Take it, sir. So saying, he let it fall on the head of this our Duke Henri, who, having crept near to listen, set up a dismal howl, because of the weight of a hundred gold louis.

"I heard the Duke, his father, call out, 'Idiot, hold your tongue! The animal is right. Come down, you rascal. I would not deny the foul fiend a refuge from these villains.'

"'Sir, you will never regret this good deed,' said the thief, and instantly two long legs were through the opening, as I stepped down to make way for our new lodger. The Duke was about to close the trap when the thief said, 'Permit me, sir,' and set about cleverly arranging the staves on the half-closed trap-door, in order that, as he let it fall, they might cover it at least in part.

"After this he descended, and, bowing in an awkward way, said, 'I am your humble servant, Madam'; and to the Duke, 'You have saved my life. It is a cheap article nowadays, but still--'

"'Enough, master thief; here am I, the Duke de St. Maur, and Madame, my friend's wife, and the baby, and these boys. Put out your lantern. God knows when we shall get out, or how this adventure will end; but, until it is over, you are a stranger within our gates, and we will feed you while our food lasts.' It seemed to me queer to be so near to a thief, but I heard my mother say something, and some one muttered an 'Ave'; it might have been the thief.

"After a little, the Duke asked him a question as to how he entered our house, and then my mother inquired if he had seen my father. He seemed a merry fellow, our thief, and so well pleased to be cared for and let live that by and by he laughed outright until the Duke bade him have a care. Nor was this at all a needless caution, because the next day, quite early on the sixth morning, we could too easily hear feet above us on the floor of the wine-vault. I heard the Duke's 'Hist!' and we were all as still as mice, except that the Duke, as before, gave me a pistol and went up the ladder to be ready. I, following him, waited a little further down. It must have been that they were making free with the wine, because some of it was spilled and ran through the trap and down my neck. It quite scared me, but in peril and in darkness a little thing will do that. One man fell over the staves, but, as the Duke told us later, he swore as if hurt, and so, I fancy, did not chance to see our trap-door. All day long we prayed and listened and watched. When, at nightfall, all sounds were over, we resolved that the Duke should take a look outside, not knowing what to do or how otherwheres to find an exit we might think to use."

"And then," said the Duke to Des Illes, as he paused in his story.

"Ah me! and then,--you remember."

"Remember? I shall never forget it,--the trap could not be moved! When this dreadful thing was discovered, both our thief and the Duke got up high on the ladder, and, with heads on one side and heaving with their shoulders, failed to open it. It was quite in vain. The thief, as usual, took a gay view of the situation. They have, said he, rolled a cask of wine on to the trap. They will drink it up, or steal it by the gallon, and when the cask is lighter we can heave it off, or--'

"'Thou art a merry sinner,' said the Duke, and even my mother laughed, and we boys. The gay noise came back dismally, thus bottled up in the narrow vault. But when we began to reflect, we knew that we were buried alive. Our thief had no end of schemes. We would bore through the door with an auger, and then bore into the barrel and let the wine run out. 'But we have no auger,' said the Duke, 'and the door is covered with sheet-iron.' 'No matter, he would think; if he walked, he could think better,' and so he moved to and fro awhile in search of wisdom.

"By this time, because our young stomachs began to cry out, we lit a candle, and my mother gave us all our portions, while I sat on the ladder top so as to hear if any one came. For a little while we were strangely cheerful, and this I saw happen whenever we lit up our vault. The baby smiled, and we moved about and made believe it was a small matter, after all. As for our thief, he was a treasure of queer stories, and you could not help but laugh, even if you were desolate the minute after.

"Our thief had made ready his lantern, and, as I said, began to prowl about into corners, and at last stumbled over our Duke's legs.

"'_Diable!_' cried the Duke. 'Put out your light; we have few enough candles; and keep quiet, too. You are as uneasy as a cat of the streets.'

"'And I am but a street cat, Monsieur, and have wisdom enough to know that the lazy eat no mice.'

"'I don't see how your stumbling about this cellar will help us or you.'

"'Who knows, Monsieur? When you are in a scrape it is never well to keep quiet. I have been in many, and worse than this--perils by sea and land, and rope--I always get out, but--Ah me, to forget them is not easy.'

"'Rope!' said the Duke. 'Indeed--'

"'Yes; they hang a fellow for so little, nowadays. You will permit, Duke, that I change the conversation; I avoid it usually. Indeed, I am careful not to tie my cravat too tight; it gives one a turn sometimes--a sort of prophetic hint.'

"'You are a droll devil,' laughed the Duke, 'and not bad company--where you can't run away with a purse. Do as you like.'

"'Thanks, Monsieur,' said the thief, and with no more words resumed a careful search, as it seemed to me, after nothing. Indeed, we young fellows laughed as he looked under and back of the casks. 'It is good to laugh,' he said, as we followed him about; 'but in my business, when there is no profit to be had, it is well to cultivate one's powers of observation.' After a while we tired of following him, and sat down; but he continued his search among the cobwebs--of which, trust me, there were enough even in those days.

"At last I saw him mount on top of some empty barrels at the far end of the cave. Unable to see behind them, he lowered his lantern between the casks and the wall of the cellar, and looked. Of a sudden he scrambled down and cried, waving his lantern: 'A thief for luck! A thief for luck!'

"'What! what!' exclaimed the Duke, rising. As to the thief, he knelt down at my mother's feet and said, looking in her face: 'Madame, God has sent you this thief to show you a way out of this grave.' My mother caught his arm and cried, 'Let this jesting cease.' He answered, 'I do not jest,' and we all leaped up and came to where he knelt.

"'What is this?' said the Duke; on which our thief turned to the end of the vault and quite easily spun aside two of the casks.

"'Look!' he said. To our surprise, there were several boards set against the wall, and between their joinings came a current of air which flared a candle-flame. 'There is a space beyond,' said the Duke. 'Is it the catacombs? And was this vault a part? See the masonry here, and over it these boards nailed fast into the cracks.' 'Horrible!' cried my poor mother. I had heard that all of the contents of the Cemetery of the Innocents had been tumbled into some of the openings of these catacombs. '_Mon Dieu_,' I cried; 'they are full of the dead!'

"'It is the live rascals I care not to meet,' laughed the thief; 'as for the dead, they are dead. All their wants are supplied. They neither steal nor kill--and there are ways out--ways out--I am sure.'

"'Pray God, my good thief, that it may be as you say,' said my mother; 'but _mon Dieu!_ one may wander far, they say, in these old quarries.' 'Let us see,' said the thief, and with a strong hand he tore away board after board, the rusted nails breaking and the rotten wood falling at his feet. There, before him and us, was a great, dark gap in the wall. Our thief held his lantern within it.

"'I see little; there is a descent. I must go and find out.'

"'Oh, be careful! You may fall--may die,' said my mother.

"'You have said that, Madame, which would send me smiling on a worse errand. Since I was of this lad's bigness, no one has so much as cared if I lived or died. I was a mere dog of the streets whom all men kicked.'

"'Poor fellow,' said my mother. 'We are alike of the company of misfortune, and perhaps from this day you may forever turn from evil.'

"'Let us waste no more time,' said the Duke; 'but have a care, or we shall lose you.'

"'If he had a long string which he might unroll,' said I. 'I saw that in a book.'

"'Good,' said the Duke, 'if we had it; but we have not.'

"'But we have,' said the thief. 'Here is Madame's knitting-ball. The lad shall hold the end, and I shall be the fish at the other end, and unroll it as I go.'

"Upon this, I, very proud, was given the end to hold, and our thief took his lantern and went on, we watching him until the light was lost because of his turning a corner. He might have been gone half an hour when he came back. My mother said to him: 'We feared for you. And now, what is your name? For if out of jest we have called you Mr. Thief, that is not to be done any more.'

"Upon this he said his name was Francois, and that in the catacombs he had gotten into a labyrinth of wet passages and seen no light anywhere. 'Indeed,' he said, 'if we venture in and lose power to come back whither we started, we may never get out alive. What with the bewilderment of many crossings, underground ways, and the armies of rats, it is a mad resort.' This notion of the rats, I confess, made me quail. So the end of it was that our new hope became but a new despair. _Mon Dieu_! 'T is a long tale."

Both Pierce and I declared our interest, which was in truth real, and he went on.

"The coming of the seventh day still found us reasonably well provisioned, and our elders discussing ways of escape, but finding none available. About noon of this day occurred an event which put an end to these discussions. All the morning there had been noises overhead, and we were kept in continual alarm. At last they were heard just over the trap, and we began to hope they were moving the cask. This, indeed, was the case. They made a great racket. To us underneath, the sounds above were such as to make us wonder what they could be doing. I suppose it was all caused by rolling the full barrels about to get at the bungs. After a while it ceased; but in an hour or so the Duke cried: 'On guard! Be ready! Quick, my other pistol!' As he stood he had now one in each hand. Instantly the trap was pulled up without hesitation or caution. There were several lighted candles standing on the barrels, and thus I saw, stooping over the opening, lantern in hand, a big municipal guard. Instantly there was the flash and roar of the Duke's pistol, and the huge brute, with a cry, pitched head down into the open trap. He rolled off the Duke's shoulder, and as he tumbled over on to me, I half fell, half leaped, and he came down with an awful crash, his head striking the floor of stone. As he fell the thief threw himself upon him. My mother cried, '_Mon Dieu!_' There was a pause--when the thief called out, 'He is dead.' As he spoke I ran up the stone stair, too curious to be afraid, and peeped under the Duke's left arm. The smoke was thick, and I saw nothing for a moment. Then a second officer ran down the stone steps of the upper cellar and drew a pistol. He had a large lantern, and as he turned it on us the Duke fired. I saw the man's right arm sink and the pistol drop; and now a strange thing happened. For a moment the man stood leaning back against a great cask. The hand in which he clutched the lantern shook violently as with a spasm. '_Diable_! That is strange,' cried the Duke. As I stood beside him in fear and wonder, the wounded officer swayed to the left, and I heard a gurgling noise and saw rush out under the man's arm a great gush of red fluid--as it seemed to me blood. Then of a sudden the man doubled up and came down in a heap on the floor. I heard him groan piteously.

"Cried the Duke, 'Stay there.' This was to me. 'Be still, all of you.' Indeed, I had no mind to move; one dead man above and one below were guards enough. The Duke went by the municipal without more than a look, saying, as he set foot on the upper stair, 'I have shot that man and the wine-barrel too. _Sacre bleu_, what a waste!' So it was good Bordeaux, and not blood. This reassured me. In a minute more I heard the Duke say cheerfully: 'All goes well. A lantern, quick! There is no one else.'

"Our thief was ready in a moment, and the two, with my small person in the rear, turned to consider the Jacobin. 'Dead, I think,' said the Duke. 'And if not, it were wise to attend to his case,' said our thief. 'No, no,' I heard my mother cry from the top of the staircase; 'we will have no more bloodshed.'

"Neither Duke nor thief said anything in reply, but laid the man in as easy a posture as could be found for one with an ounce of lead clean through him. After this they went down to look at the other officer. He was past doubt, and dead enough. 'And now,' said the Duke, 'even if we bury these two, which Madame makes impossible, other devils will infest the house, and in a few hours we shall be one and all lost to hope.'

"'There are the catacombs,' said the thief, 'and nothing else. The sooner we leave, the better our chances. No one will follow us, Monsieur.'

"'But shall we ever get out of these caves?' said my mother.

"'To stay is certain death,' returned Duke Philip.

"'And to fly by that great opening uncertain death,' said the thief. 'I like better the uncertain.'

"'We will go,' said my mother.

"Upon this the Duke bade us carry the utmost loads of wine and eatables we could support. The thief packed baskets, and strung bottles of wine and milk on cords so as to let them hang from our shoulders. Each had also a blanket, and we were thus pretty heavily loaded, but the thief carried nearly as much as all the rest together. The Duke sat down a little while to reload his own arms and those taken from the dead guard, and soon we followed one another through the great black hole in mournful procession. With one dim lantern flashing cones of light here and there on the dripping, moldy walls, we went down a slope and along a tunnel not broad enough for two to walk abreast. At the first halt I saw my mother whisper to Duke Philip, and soon after he gave to our thief the sword and pistol of the dead guard. Before and behind us was darkness. We may have gone two hundred yards, the Duke urging haste, when we came to a sharp turn in the tunnel, and stopped as if of one accord.

"The Duke cried, 'Forward! March, boys! A fine adventure, is n't it?' His cheerfulness put spirit into us all, and even the baby gave a little laugh, as if pleased; but why babies laugh no man knows, nor woman either. As for the Duke, he nor we had the least idea of where we were going. As we started down the long stone corridor, the thief cried out, 'Wait a little. I am a fool! A thief of my experience not to know better! Ye saints! An empty bottle is not more stupid!'

"'Hold!' cried the Duke, as the thief darted back up the tunnel.

"'Yes, Monsieur.' But our thief made no pause, and was heard running madly along the stone passage out of which we had just turned. '_Peste!_' said the Duke. You will never see that rascal again. He will buy his own neck with ours. We shall do well to push on and leave no traces behind us.'

"'No,' said my mother, as we stood staring after the man. 'I know not why he went, but he will come again.' And so we waited, and some fifteen minutes went by. At last said Duke Philip, impatient, 'Did any one ever trust a thief, Madame? Pray remember at least that I am free from blame.' He was vexed.

"'A thief has been trusted before,' said my mother, in her quiet way.

"'That was for the next world, not this one. We shall regret.'

"'No,' laughed the dear lady; 'for here he is, Duke.'

"He came in quick, almost breathless haste, and hardly able to say, 'Oh, it was worth while, Madame. I have the bag of gold we left, and that brigand's clothes. That I should have left a bag of gold! I of all men!'

"'_Diantre!_' cried the Duke. 'What do you want with the clothes? Are we about to start a rag-shop? Come, we have lost time!'

"I heard our thief mutter as he fell in at the rear of the line, back of us boys: 'He has no imagination, that Duke. He would make no figure as a thief. _Mon ami!_' (that was to me), 'do you know the toughest job in the world?'

"'No,' I said, laughing.

"'To undress a gentleman who has departed this life. He does n't give you the least assistance.'

"I stumbled on, and was thinking over this queer statement when the Duke halted us in a broader place whence three stone passages led off at various angles.

"'A _carrefour_, and which to follow?' said the thief.

"'It cannot matter much,' returned the Duke. I thought he did not like the thief's assuming to take part in our counsels. Just then a tremendous noise like thunder broke over us, and rumbled away in strange echoes down the stone alleys before us.

"'Ye saints!' cried my mother, as a yet louder thunder resounded. 'What is that?'

"'We are under a street,' said our thief. 'It is the noise of wagons.'

"'That might be a guide,' said my mother.

"'Of a truth, yes, Madame,' exclaimed our thief. But the Duke, taking no notice, said, 'Let us take this road to the left.' The thief said nothing, but shouldered his load, and we went on as before. It was no time to argue; nor, indeed, did it seem to matter which way of the many we chose, so we followed after our Duke, little conscious, we boys, of the greatness of our peril. I suppose we must have gone for ten minutes along a narrowing tunnel, when my mother called back to us to stop, and the Duke said, 'We are in a wet place. But,' he added, presently, 'it is not deep; let us go on,' and we started afresh.

"As we moved ankle-deep in water, a strange sound, like the fall of something, broke out behind us, and a great rush of damp wind went by us like a live thing.