Chapter XIV: Health to the King! 278 (6)

“They are only bits of wood, after all,” he said. “It is not worth while for you to excite yourself so for things like that; and what would you do if you had to live here, like us, with this lunatic? If he wants to knock anything about,--and after all a man must have some pleasure,--why should he not kick these chunks of wood, for which you got a fair price, instead of good Christians like you and me?”

“I don’t care how much he beats you,” said I. “I had rather have been flogged myself than have had him injure this wood into which I had breathed the breath of life. Do you think a man cares for his bones? It is his thought that is sacred to him, and he who kills that is thrice guilty!” Carried away by my own eloquence, I might have kept on like this for hours, but I saw that Andoche did not grasp a word of it, and indeed seemed to think that I was nearly as cracked as his Master. I turned on the threshold and gave a last look, as one may say, at the field of battle, where lay my poor noseless creations; there was Andoche with his pitying smile, and here was I wasting my breath in cursing at these dummies. It struck me all at once as so deucedly funny, that I just laughed in Andoche’s face, and went off in a gust of merriment which seemed to carry away my anger and my pain along with it.

I struck out towards Clamecy, musing as I went, “This time,” thought I, “they may as well stick me under ground; for there is nothing left of the old man but his skin. Hold on, though, there may be something worth while inside of that,--I remember a story of a fellow who was besieged, and they told him to yield, or they would kill all his children. He answered that if they did, he knew how to make a lot of new ones. That is my position exactly. In the dry places of the earth we artists have sown grain which wild beasts and birds of the air come to devour, because they do not know how to create, and can only feed on the works of others; but let them trample and uproot as much as they will, I have a store from which I can replenish the fruitful soil. Let the wheat ripen or die, it does not matter, for my eyes are fixed, not on the past, but on the future, and when the day comes, as it will, when none are left to me of all my members, when the sight of my eyes is dimmed, and my hands have lost their cunning, then when that time comes, Colas, you will have ceased to be. Is it possible to imagine a Breugnon, who cannot work or feel, who does not laugh or spring from the ground with both feet at once? No, then he will be only a withered nut, you can throw the old shell into the fire!”

I was so much comforted by these reflections that when I reached the top of the last hill as you go towards Clamecy I went on gaily, throwing my feet out, and twirling my stick with a jaunty air, when I saw in the distance a boy running towards me, seemingly in much distress. As he came nearer, I knew him for my youngest apprentice, a lad about thirteen years old, Robinet, called Binet; certainly as idle a youngster as ever stared out of a window at the girls, when he should have been hard at work. Twenty times a day I had to cuff him for his laziness, but he was a clever little monkey, and his agile fingers could turn out astonishingly good things when he liked; and then his funny face with its wide mouth and turned-up nose, was so attractive that, for the life of me, I could not be really angry with him. He knew it, the young rascal! and when I hit him a good clip, he would just shake his ears like a donkey, and in ten minutes was as bad as ever.

Imagine my surprise when I saw that he was crying, the large drops streaming in rivulets down his cheeks, and before I could say a word, he flung his arms round my neck, blubbering, and bedewing me with his tears, like a Triton in a fountain.

“Stand off!” cried I. “What on earth is the matter with you? And, for goodness’ sake, blow your nose, first, if you want to kiss me!”

Then as I saw that, far from stopping, he let himself slip to the ground and lay there, sobbing louder than ever, I became really alarmed, and raised him, so that I saw that one hand was wrapped in a bloody rag, that his eyebrows were singed, and his clothes torn and dusty.

“Come, my boy, what is the matter? What mischief have you been up to this time?”--I had really forgotten my disaster.

“Oh, Master!--the fire! I can’t bear to tell you,” said he, weeping, and when I realized that the poor child was unhappy on my account, because my house was burned down, I cannot tell you what a comfort it was to me.

“My poor boy!” said I, “don’t cry any longer.”

He thought that I had not understood, and told me more calmly that my workshop and my house were burned to the ground.

“That’s an old story by now,” said I, patting him on the back. “You are the fourth or fifth person who has told me of it. Well! it’s hard luck, that’s all I can say, but I never thought you cared so much about the old shop. Honor bright, now, didn’t you dance around it, like the others, while it was burning?”

The way I was taking it had made him feel much better, but at this he shook off my hand indignantly. “You don’t believe a word of it, Master; Cagnat and I did all we could to put it out, but there were only two of us, and Cagnat was sick with the fever; he got out of his bed to help, and we tried to hold the door of the house against the crowd, but what was the use? They threw us down, and trampled us under foot like a herd of wild cattle! We were swept off our feet as if a flood had gone over us, and when Cagnat managed to pick himself up, and tried to prevent them from setting fire to the house, they very nearly killed him.

“I got into the workshop somehow, though it was already in a blaze, flaming like a torch from top to bottom, with long red banners of fire streaming from the roof and windows. The smoke nearly choked me, and I thought I should be burnt to a crisp, but I made one bound into a heap of shavings, which were so hot that they set my breeches on fire, and it did not take me long to jump out of them again. I hit my head such a crack on the corner of the workbench that it half stunned me, but not for long; all around the fire was crackling and roaring, and outside I could hear the cries of those mad devils.

“I crawled on my hands and knees towards your figure of St. Marie Madeleine, which I saw near me; I could not bear to see the flames licking up over her little rounded body, and her long beautiful hair!--I just jumped at her, beat out the sparks with my fingers, and caught her in my arms as if she had been alive. ‘Dear St. Madelon! treasure of my heart,’ cried I, ‘don’t be afraid, I will save you,--and myself too, if I have luck!’ There was not a minute to spare, for by this time the roof was falling in, and I could not get out the way I came. But I spied the round loophole in the wall towards the river, struck the glass a blow with my fist, and jumped through it with my saint, as if it had been a paper hoop! A tight fit, I can tell you! but out we popped, splash, to the bottom of the Beuvron! Luckily the bottom is not far from the top, and very soft and muddy, so Madeleine did not so much as bump her pretty head, but as I had not the sense to let go of her, she dragged me down face first, till I was so full of slime and river water that it was a hard job to pull myself out with the lady. So here we are, at last, Master, and I only wish that I could have saved more for you!”

He had a bundle under his arm wrapped up in an old waistcoat, and when he carefully unrolled it, I saw the sweet face of my little saint, not much the worse, except for her scorched toes. Up to this time I had not wept for all the misfortunes that had fallen on me, but at the sight I was touched to the quick, and taking Madeleine and the boy in my arms, I kissed them both, and cried, till the tears ran down my cheeks.

“What became of Cagnat?” I asked when I had recovered myself a little, and reading the answer in the boy’s face, I knelt down, and put my lips to the earth in honor of a brave spirit.

“God reward you both!” I cried, as I looked at the lad still clasping the statue in his bandaged arms, and I thought, “These will last, the souls of these children, on which I have wrought my impress;--wood and stone may be destroyed, but this joy no man can take from me!”

X

THE RIOT

August 30.

When we were a little calmed down, I said to Robinet, “What is done is done, let us see now what is before us.” For I always think that the best way to act in the present is to look upon yesterday’s doings as ancient history. I had been away from Clamecy about three weeks, and I made him sit down and tell me all that had happened in the interval. The town had been under a double curse, the plague and fear, and when the pestilence abated, fear seemed the more dangerous. Bandits flocked from all the surrounding country, to prey upon the unfortunate place; the people were so terrified that they offered no resistance, and those of the baser sort, driven out their wits by fright, even joined themselves to the robbers.

The law had become a dead letter, for of our four Aldermen, one died, two fled, and the Public Prosecutor had also bolted. The Commandant at the Citadel was brave enough, but old, and crippled by gout, besides, having no more brains than you could put in a thimble, he had allowed himself to be torn in pieces.

The only official that remained in the town was the fourth Alderman, a man named Racquin, who finding himself deserted by his colleagues, and opposed by this raging mob, was weak, or cunning enough, to yield to it, instead of trying to put a stop to its depredations. He even allowed the mob to set fire to the houses of men against whom he had a grudge for one reason or another, myself among the number.

“What are the citizens doing all this time?” I asked.

“Nothing, now that their leaders are gone; they are like lambs led to the slaughter.”

“Well, how about me, Binet? This old ram has some fight left in him still, so come along!”

“You are crazy, Master! What could you do, one man, against hundreds of brigands?”

“Do?--the best I can, of course; why should I be afraid of robbers, now that I have not a penny left in the world? Come on, I say.”

Now, would you believe it? that boy actually turned a handspring on the road for joy, in spite of his burned hand, and bruises, and began to dance about and shout that this was the greatest sport he had ever heard of.

“Hooray!” he cried; “we’ll chase these beggars off the face of the earth!”

“Stop! you young monkey,” said I. “You’ll be swinging soon, perhaps, by your neck instead of by your tail, so keep still, and mind what I tell you.... I’m off for Clamecy now by myself, and you must make the best of your way to Dornecy. When you get there, find Magistrate Nicole, our alderman. He thought it prudent to run, I know, but he is kind-hearted, even if he does love himself better than his neighbor, and there are things he prizes still more,--viz.: his goods and chattels, which are in the greatest peril, as you will not fail to tell him.

“When you have seen him, push on to Sardy, to Master Courtignon, the Procurator; you’ll find him in his house with a pigeon-cote there; let him know that his mansion in Clamecy, with all it contains, will be burnt to the ground this very night, unless he comes back;--that will fetch him, I promise you! But I don’t need to give you lessons in lying, you young rascal! I’ll be bound you know well enough what to say to them.”

“Oh! I don’t mind a lie or two, but the fact is, Master, I would rather not leave you alone.”

“As if a snip like you would be of any protection! Seriously, Binet, the best thing you can do for me is to get help, so hurry off as fast as you can, and when you have done my errand, join me at the town.”

“Old Courtignon and Nicole shall be brought back,” he cried, “if I have to drag them here by the hair of their heads; but just tell me one thing, Master,--what are we going to do with them when they get here?”

“You will see,” said I with an air of profound mystery, though I knew myself no more than the babe unborn what was to be the outcome. The sun had set in a bank of red clouds, and the lovely summer evening was closing in when I got to the town about eight o’clock; but fine as it was, there was not a soul about; no guards and no loungers outside the market gate; so I walked boldly up the High Street, where the only living thing I met was a half-starved cat, which fled when it saw me. The houses, all tightly closed, turned blind eyes on the street, with doors and windows barred; and the only sound I heard was the echo of my own footsteps.

“I am too late,” I said to myself, “they are all dead.” Just then I thought I heard a rustling behind the shutters, so I banged on the nearest door and shouted, “Let me in!” Getting no answer I tried another house and another, rattling the handles and knocking loudly with my stick, but not a door was opened. I could hear faint noises inside as if mice were stirring, and I understood that the miserable cowards were all hiding. This made me so angry that I cried out, “Denis Saulsoy, old man, if you don’t open the door, I’ll beat it down! It is I, Breugnon.”

At my name all the shutters flew open as if by magic; and I saw a row of frightened faces all along Market Street, like a lot of onions lying on the window sills. They stared at me as if I were the most beautiful thing in creation, and as the terror faded from their eyes, they looked so pleased that I flattered myself that it was from affection for me; but the fact was, the sight of any one there at that hour was reassuring. Then ensued a very interesting dialogue between Breugnon and the onions; they all talked at once, and I replied as best I was able. They wanted to know where I came from, what I was doing, where I was going, how I got in, and how I meant to get out? To which I answered that I was glad to find that their tongues were still in working order, though their courage seemed somewhat rusty.

“I want to talk to you,” I cried. “Come out! It is a charming evening, what are you all sticking in the house for,--has somebody stolen your breeches?”

“Breugnon,” they said in a frightened whisper, “did you see any one in the streets?”

“Whom did you expect to see, idiots?”

“The brigands; they are burning everything in Béyant.”

“Why don’t you go and stop them then, you fools?”

“We have to stay here to protect our houses.”

“The best way to protect your own houses is to go out and fight for other people’s; don’t you see that when the brigands have burnt down the rest of the houses, they will take yours? Your time will come, never fear!”

“Master Racquin told us that the best thing we could do was to keep quiet till order was re-established by the Duke of Nevers.”

“A lot of water will run under the bridges before the Duke leaves his own business to look after ours; we shall all be burned to a cinder by that time. Come, come! We ought to fight for our skin, if it is worth anything.”

They kept on for some time making objections, chirping like birds from window to window, declaring that the enemy was numerous and powerful, and that we were weak and had no one to lead us; till I lost all patience, and swore that I would not stand there in the street any longer gaping at them.

“Do you think I am here to serenade you?” I cried. “Let the women stay up there, to take care of your houses, they are quite equal to that. But if there are any men among you, come down and fight, or, by the God that made me, I will set fire to you myself with my own hands!”

At last one braver than the rest stuck his nose out of the door, half laughing, and then they all came out one after the other, and stood round me in a circle.

“Are you quite cured of the plague?”

“As right as a trivet.”

“And has no one attacked you?”

“Only a lot of geese, but who cares for their hissing? Listen, my friends, you see I am here all safe and sound; don’t you think that there has been enough of all this nonsense? It is time to go to work, and now, some of you tell me where we can go to plan for what must be done.”

“You can come to my forge, if you like,” said Gangnot, and led the way; soon we were all gathered there in the darkness, with the door tight shut. The place smelt of burnt horn and horses, and a lantern standing on the rough floor threw our monstrous shadows on the smoky beams of the roof. At first no one dared to speak a word, and then they all broke out and talked at once, until Gangnot seized his great hammer and struck a resounding blow on the anvil, which shook the loud voices again into silence; whereupon I managed to make myself heard.

“Friends,” said I, “don’t waste your breath in telling me what has happened, for I know as much as you do about it;--you say the brigands are here,--I say we must throw them out; you say the mob is on their side,--well, what of that? Mobs are men, just like you and me, who want to wet their throats when they see others drinking. We are told it is a sin to tempt Providence, but it is still worse to dangle a lot of rich booty before the eyes of poor devils, who have not one penny to rub against another; they may not be thieves themselves, but they have no objection to profit by the stealings of others. You know, there are all sorts of people in the world, and as the Lord says, we must divide the sheep from the goats.”

“Master Racquin is an Alderman, and he ordered us to do nothing,” said some of the more timid. “The whole authority of the city rests in his hands, you know, and now that the Lieutenant, the Procurator, and all the others are absent, he is charged to keep order.”

“Well, does he do it?”

“He tries his best.”

“I ask you, has he kept the town in order? No! Well then, we will do it ourselves!”

“Master Racquin has solemnly promised us that if we keep perfectly quiet, all our property shall be protected, and the disturbances be confined to the suburbs.”

“And how is he going to keep that promise?”

“He was forced to make some kind of a treaty with the brigands, but he says that it was only to get them in his power.”

“To hoodwink us, you mean,--why, such a treaty is a positive crime!”

They all hung their heads, looking angry and shamefaced as well as frightened, and Denis Saulsoy said quickly, timidly, that it was not safe always to speak out what one thought. Gangnot was a man of few words, but he gave the anvil another blow, and said, “Colas is right!”

“What are you afraid of, Denis?” said I. “You are among friends,--do you think that walls have ears? Here, Gangnot, go and stand in front of the door with that hammer of yours, and knock the head off the first man that tries to enter; he may have ears to listen with, but I bet that he won’t have a tongue to wag, after Gangnot has had a good lick at him! Now is the time to decide; speak up, if you are true men, for when we leave here it will be to act, not to talk.”

This brought them all to their feet in a perfect uproar; they broke out in a storm of rage against Racquin, calling him a rascal, and Judas, and swearing that he had sold us outright and all that we possessed; but since he had the police behind him, they were afraid to move or offer any resistance.

“Where is he to be found?” said I.

They told me, at the Town Hall, where he stayed night and day, guarded by a troop of ragamuffins, who were more like jailers than defenders.

“He is a prisoner then, in a word,” cried I. “Gangnot, open that door! We will go at once and set him free;--who is with me? It is too late to hang back now!”

“Breugnon,” said Saulsoy, scratching his head, “I do not mind a few hard knocks, but it is a different matter to go against a man who represents the law; if you resist the law, you are taking a heavy----”

“Res-pon-si-bil-i-ty!” said I. “Well, why not? My shoulders are broad enough to bear it, so none of the rest of you need worry. When I see a scoundrel I kill him first, and find out afterwards if he is Pope or Procurator. When order has turned to chaos, it is time to take the law into our own hands.”

This ended the discussion, and we all filed out with Gangnot at our head, his hammer in his huge four-fingered hand, (he had crushed one of them on the anvil). He looked like a walking tower, tall and strong, his face blackened by smoke, and one eye squinting horribly, but we all crowded in behind his broad back, and each man ran to his house to get his weapons. I should not like to swear that they all came back armed; perhaps some of the poor fellows could not find their axes or their arquebuses, for when we assembled in the market-place, our ranks were rather thin, if the truth were told; but those who did come were true as steel; men you could put your trust in.

When we got to the Town Hall, we found by great good luck that the main door was wide open; perhaps because our kind shepherd was so sure that his lambs would let themselves be shorn without so much as a baa-a, that he and his watch-dogs, having partaken of a hearty dinner, were all wrapped in slumber. Under these circumstances our assault was by no means heroic; we just walked in, and caught, as they say, the bird on her nest.

Racquin was dragged out of his bed, just as he was, like a skinned rabbit; and he looked anything but pretty, with rolls of fat all over his pink body, even on his forehead and round his eyes. We soon found that he knew what we were after, and was equal to the situation. He flashed an angry glare at us out of his sharp gray eyes, under their puffy eyelids; but he controlled himself at once, and with an authoritative air, inquired by what right we thus invaded the precincts of the law. I answered that we only wanted to drag him out of bed. This made him furiously angry, but Saulsoy said to him, “Master Racquin, you are not the one to threaten us; the boot is on the other leg now. We are here to accuse you, so defend yourself if you can.”

He changed his tune at once. “Fellow-citizens,” said he blandly, “what would you have of me? What complaint do you bring? I have stayed in the town to protect you at the risk of my own life, when all my brother officials fled before the plague and the riots. I alone have remained faithful at my post. The evils which have come upon you are surely none of my causing, so what fault can any of you find with me?”

“You are the physician of the town, Racquin,” said I, “and as the proverb says, ‘Clever doctors make bad sores.’--You have fattened on the plague and the riots, you and your creatures; you are in league with the robbers to burn down our houses, which you ought to protect; and instead of resisting the mobs, you have made yourself a leader among them. We do not know if you have thus betrayed us through fear or greed, but you shall choose yourself what label we are to hang about your neck: ‘This is one who sold his town for thirty pieces of silver.’ Prices are higher than they were in Iscariot’s day, so I will put instead, ‘An Alderman who saved his own skin at the expense of his fellow-citizens.’”

“Breugnon,” said he, with an ugly look, “I have only done my duty in burning infected dwellings according to law.”

“Yes, and when a man is not one of your adherents you mark his house with a cross, and call it infected. And how about letting the mob in to pillage? That is a good way to stop the spread of the plague, isn’t it?”

“I was unable to prevent it, in all cases, and besides, if these ruffians catch the pest while they are looting the houses, so much the better, we are rid of two nuisances at once.”

“A splendid idea. The robbers kill the plague, and the plague kills the robbers, and the Alderman inherits what remains of the town! It is as I said just now, the clever doctor survives both disease and patient. Now I tell you what it is, Master Racquin, your treatment is too high-priced for us. We will take care of ourselves from this time onward, and by way of salary for former services, we will give you----”

“Six feet of ground in the nearest graveyard,” Gangnot finished the sentence for me, and at the word our followers sprang forward like a pack of wolves. I threw myself before their prey, while he took refuge between the bed and the wall, staring wildly out at their furious faces. He was such a miserable object, shivering there like a fat pig, without a rag to cover him that, just out of pity, I told him to get his clothes on.

“We have seen enough of your hide, for one while, my friend,” said I. This made the others laugh, and seeing them in a better humor, I began to try to make them hear reason. Racquin meanwhile hurried on his clothes, his teeth chattering with cold, and an evil gleam in his eye. He knew that the danger was over for the moment; that for a day at least his life was reasonably safe, so when he was fully dressed, he plucked up his courage and went so far as to call us all rebels; threatening to punish us for insulting a magistrate.

“You are no longer Magistrate,” said I. “You are dismissed by my order!”

At this he turned on me; forgetting all prudence, and screaming with rage, he cried out that he knew me for a rascally trouble-maker; that I had stirred up the others to attack him, and that on me should fall the most condign punishment.

“Shall I kill him?” said Gangnot, balancing his hammer. I held him back as I answered:

“It is lucky for you, Racquin, that I have been ruined, for you know well enough that, if I hanged you now, people would say it was out of revenge for the fire. A halter would just suit your style of beauty, and one of these days you will certainly wear one round that fat neck of yours. But the thing is that we have got you now, and are going to strip your Alderman’s gown from your back; we are the Government here until further notice.”

“You are taking your life in your hand, Breugnon.”

“What if I am? I risk it for the good of the town, and if I lose, Clamecy will be the winner!”

He was sent to prison forthwith, and to make room for him we released an old sergeant whom he had shut up three days before, for disobedience of orders. The sheriff and all of the staff at the Town Hall came round to our side, now that the blow was struck, declaring that Racquin was a traitor, and that they had always said so; (if they had, it was in a very low whisper).

Our plan had run as smoothly as if on wheels, up to now; so much so that I was really surprised, and asked, “Where on earth are the brigands?” And just then a breathless messenger ran up to warn us that the mob was outside the Lourdeaux gate-tower, and that they were attacking Peter Poullard’s warehouse in Béyant, burning, sacking, and carrying all before them.

“This time,” said I, “they will have to dance to our piping,” and we rushed down to the Mirandole terrace, which overhangs the lower town. We could see nothing but a dense cloud of smoke shot through with red flames; above our heads sounded the frantic tocsin from the tower of St. Martin’s, while from below rose a perfectly infernal clamor.

“Comrades,” said I, “let us get down there as quick as we can, for the oven is heating, and no mistake,--but who is to lead us? You, Saulsoy?”

He hung back, however, saying that it was bad enough to be out of his bed at midnight, with an old musket in his hand, but when it came to making him Captain, that was a little too much! He did not mind obeying, he said, but for a fellow who had never been able to decide anything in his life, it was ridiculous to ask him to give orders.

“Who will be chief, then?”

No one stirred; I was ready to dance with impatience, but such people are all alike, willing enough to follow, but when it comes to taking the lead, no one at home! They were all cautious householders, and with them the habit of hesitation is so inveterate that they will spend half a day bargaining over the sheet they want to buy, and fingering the linen until, perhaps, the chance is gone.

“If no one else offers, I will be captain!” cried I. “But first understand one thing: for this night I give orders and you obey them; no talking, no hanging back, for if we fail now we are all lost; so remember I am to be master. It will be time enough to judge me tomorrow. What do you say?”

“Agreed!” they shouted with one voice, and we started down the hill. I went first, Gangnot at my left, and Bardet, the town crier, on my right with his drum. Down by the gate leading to the suburbs, we found a crowd of people, men, women, and children, streaming out toward the place where looting was going on, as if it were a fair. They were all in a very good humor, and some of the housewives were carrying baskets as they do on a market day. They moved politely aside to let us pass, not knowing who we were, and then fell into step, and marched on behind us. Among them was a man I knew, Perruche, the barber. He was carrying a paper lantern in his hand, and as I came near, he held it up to my face, and as soon as he saw who it was he called out, “Hullo, Colas! Glad to see you back! Come and have a drink.”

“Tomorrow if you like,” said I. “There is a time for everything.”

“You must be breaking up, Breugnon. Thirst is always in season, and if we wait till tomorrow all the good wine may be gone. Is it possible that you have actually lost your taste for a good September vintage?”

“Stolen drink has no flavor.”

“Stolen? You mean saved out of a burning house. I should be a pretty fool to let it all run away into the gutter.”

“Thief!” said I, and pushed him out of my way, and as each man behind came up, he too said, “Thief,” and frowned at the barber, who stood completely dumfounded for a moment. Then we heard him shouting, and as I looked over my shoulder I saw that he was running after us, shaking his fist. But as nobody took any more notice of him, he fell silent when he had caught up to us, and marched on behind.

The crowd was so dense when we came to the waterside, just by the first Yonne bridge, that I halted and ordered the drum to beat; this made them open a little, so that we pushed forward like a wedge; but after a few yards we could go no further. I found myself rubbing elbows with two boatmen whom I knew well; one Father Joachim, nicknamed “Calabre,” and the other a man named Gadin, called Gueurlu.

“What are you doing here, Master Breugnon,” said one, “all harnessed up like a prize donkey? Are you out for fun or a fight?”

“There’s many a true word spoken in jest, Calabre. I have just been appointed Captain of Clamecy, and I am here to defend the town against all its enemies.”

“There are no enemies that I know of,” said he. “You must be cracked.”

“What do you call that crowd down there, setting fire to houses?”

“We are all sorry that your house was burnt the first day, Master,” said he, “but now that it is gone, I don’t see what difference it makes to you if we do go for a fat old thief like Poullard, who grows rich on the wool that he pulls off our backs, and then turns up his nose at us. It is a good deed to rob the likes of him, and anyhow you are in the same boat with us poor men now, all to gain and nothing to lose, so get out of our way!”

I hated to get my hands on these poor devils, so I tried to make them hear reason first.

“You have everything to lose, Calabre,” I said; “your honor to begin with.”

“Honor!” cried he. “Is it good to eat? What’s the use of talking about a thing like that, when you know we may soon be all dead men; dead and blown away as if we had never existed?”

“Honor, indeed!” said Gueurlu; “that’s a word they put on rich men’s tombstones, but when we die, they shovel us into the common ditch. Can you tell by the smell if we had honor or not?”

“Joachim,” said I, turning away from Gueurlu, “it is true a man does not amount to much all by himself, but get a lot of men together and it’s a different story; many a little makes a mickle, you know, and when the rich are all swept away and forgotten, with their lying epitaphs, down to the very names they are so proud of, then the hard-working people of Clamecy will be known as her real nobility. We must not have it said that we too were rascals.”

“Much I care!” said Gueurlu, but Calabre cried, “You are a pig-face! You care for nothing, but I am like Breugnon,--I do care what they say of me, and by St. Nicholas! the rich shall not have all the honor to themselves; high or low, there is not one of them worth our little fingers!”

This brought on a great dispute. Gueurlu persisted that our betters from the least to the greatest, from our own Duke up to the princes, did nothing but grab, and stuff their bellies with other folks’ dinners; and even laid hands on the King’s treasures as soon as the breath was out of his body;--that there was no use in talking about “honor” after that;--we might as well take a leaf out of their book.

Calabre said they were indeed a set of hogs, and that some day our Henry would come back from the tomb to make them disgorge, or else we would all rise ourselves, and cut their throats for them. But meanwhile, we were going to show them that there was more real honor in us than in the heart of what they call a nobleman.

“Hooray!” cried I; “you are with us then?”

“Yes, by the Mother of God! And Gueurlu is coming too.”

“No, he isn’t!”

“I tell you he is, or I’ll pitch him neck and crop into the river! Here we go, forward march! Out of my road, Wrigglers!”

He forced his way through the press, and we followed like a school of herrings. Most of the men we came up against now were so far gone in drink that there was no use in saying a word to them; anyhow, there is a time for everything, and we had got past the talking stage; there was nothing left to us but our fists; so as drunken men are safe all the world over, we just sat them down on the stones as gently as we could and went on.

By this time we had reached the warehouse gates, and could see the looters swarming all over Master Pierre Poullard’s house like ants. Some were ripping open chests and bales, bedizening themselves in stolen finery; others, with shrieks of laughter, were throwing everything breakable they could find out of the windows. The courtyard was full of wine barrels and frantic drinkers. I saw one man with his mouth to the bunghole, who having drunk till he could hold no more, rolled over on his back, the red stream still spattering in his face, and running away into little pools on the ground, where children were lapping up the wine, and mud with it.

The rioters had heaped up a great pile of furniture in a corner of the court, and had set it on fire so that they might see the better. But the whole infernal orgy centered in the cellars, where from all directions came the sound of mallets, as great barrels and tuns were staved in, and the wine poured out in floods. Groans, screams, and choking coughs echoed from the low arches, as if a herd of swine had been let loose there, and already long tongues of flame and smoke came licking out of the bars of the windows. They were all so busy, each man intent on what he was doing, that no one seemed to see us as we made our way into the yard. I signed to Bardet,--he beat a long roll on his drum, and then in a voice of thunder announced my appointment as Captain. The instant he ceased I took up the word, and ordered the mob to disperse on pain of severe penalties.

At the first tap of the drum they had all drawn together like a swarm of bees, buzzing angrily; then shrieking, and hurling stones, they rushed upon us. After a fierce struggle we pushed them back, and succeeded in forcing the doors of the cellar under a hail of tiles and billets of wood from the upper windows, in spite of which we made our entrance good, and then had time to breathe and count our wounded.

Poor old Gangnot had lost another finger, and Calabre’s right eye was badly injured; for me, I had caught my thumb in the hinge of the door-flap, as I banged it shut; and by my faith, it turned me sick and faint like a woman. Fortunately there was an open keg of brandy close at hand, and after I had swallowed a dram and bathed my thumb in some of the same, my head ceased to go round; but as the fight went on, the pain made me as mad as a tiger.

By this time we were inside, and all struggling together on the stairs leading from the house to the cellar, and I felt that we could not keep this up long, as these devils were discharging their muskets, close into our very faces, so that they set Saulsoy’s beard on fire, and Gueurlu had to squeeze it out between his hard hands. Luckily the rioters were too drunk to shoot straight, or we none of us would have come out of it alive. I could see also that we had an ally in the fire, which was creeping round the court from wing to wing, toward the main building where we were; so when we had retreated to the topmost step, some of us stood firm, while the rest hastily raised a barrier of loose stones and rubbish, reaching to the lintel of the doorway. Through the chinks we stuck our pikes and lances, like the quills of a porcupine. “Now,” cried I, “those who like fire, will soon have plenty of it!”

The cellars were full of men, for the most part too drunk to realize their danger; but when the flames appeared through the cracks of the walls and began to eat away the beams of the roof, it was a perfect pandemonium of yells and curses, and like bubbling wine in a vat they rose to the surface, and made a rush for our staircase. Some of the foremost, with their clothes actually on fire, were crushed against our barricade by the weight of those behind them, and their bodies filled the doorway from side to side, like a cork in a bottle. It was horrible to see; and also to hear the fire raging and roaring! If I had been just then the simple Breugnon of everyday life, I should have tried to save the poor screaming wretches, but when a man is in authority, he must think of nothing outside of his duty; compassion at that crisis would have been sheer weakness. I knew that the safety of the city hung on the defeat of these brigands, for if they had escaped they would have outnumbered our small forces, and with the fear of the gallows before their eyes, would have fought to desperation. No, there was now nothing for it but to smoke the wasps out of their nest.

Just at this moment whom should I see over the heads of the crowd but my old schoolfellow, Gambi! He was a good-for-nothing soaker, it is true, and had no business to be where he was, but we had been playmates from childhood, had been confirmed on the same day together, and I could not bear to leave an old chum to such a fate.

I crawled between our pikes over the barrier, and somehow forced apart the tightly wedged mass of human beings, though it seemed as if there was not room to move more than your eyelids. Gambi was tottering on the edge of the lowest step, held up by those around him, and I reached him literally walking on the bodies of the others, who snapped and tore at me in passing, so that I thought that I should have to bring him away in pieces. But there is a special Providence for drunkards,--for some of them at least,--and at last I was able to seize him by the collar, and fighting and kicking out right and left, I dragged him to the floor where the air was clearer.

There was little time to spare! The fire was roaring through the doorway, as if up a chimney, driving out men from the rampart we had made, and I could smell the roasting flesh of the brigands on the staircase. Stooping low and treading on I knew not what, I dragged Gambi by his hair through a hole in the wall, and somehow managed to reach the outside of the warehouse, leaving the fire to finish the work of destruction. When my men rejoined me they were so glad to see me safe that they could not do enough for Gambi; and after we had revived and fed him, we found under his rags some beautiful colored enamels, which he had stolen, God knows where! and contrived to hold on to during all the struggle. He was of course completely sobered by this time, and weeping with gratitude he pulled out his ill-gotten treasures, and threw them away with all his strength, declaring that stolen goods would never prosper and that he could not bear to keep them!

At sunrise the next morning Robinet appeared, triumphantly leading the Procurator, a force of thirty men at arms, and a large party of peasants. Later came the Magistrate with more reinforcements, and the next day our good Duke sent in some of his own followers. Order being now restored, they set to work. First they raked among the hot cinders, then they drew up a list of property destroyed, added their own pay and expenses, and returned whence they came,--except, of course, our own officials, who remained with us.

What then was the moral of all this experience? It is this,--help yourself, and others will help you.

XI

A PRACTICAL JOKE

September 30th.

Order being re-established, and the ashes cooled, we heard no more talk of the plague and the riots, but for all that the city seemed crushed, and its inhabitants, still hardly recovered from their fright, appeared to feel their way; as if they did not know who was to have the upper hand in future.

For the most part men kept indoors, but if obliged to go out, they crept close along by the house walls, like a dog with his tail between his legs. The truth is, few had reason to be proud of their part in the late troubles, and a man hardly liked to look at his own face in the glass, for there he saw human nature, stripped of all disguises:--not a pretty sight, and one that makes most of us feel shamefaced and suspicious.

I too was uneasy and sad, but for different reasons: first, I was haunted by the thought of the massacre in the burning cellars; and on the other hand, when I looked in the familiar faces of my neighbors, I could not help remembering their cruelty and cowardice: this made bad feeling between us, for they knew, of course, how I felt. I longed to wipe it all out, and behave as if nothing had happened, but as that could not be, we all went about in the altered town, under the heat and languor of late summer.

Racquin had been sent to Nevers for trial; but it was a question whether he fell under the jurisdiction of the Duke or the King, so he stood a fair chance of getting off scot free. Our county authorities were kind enough to overlook my illegal conduct;--for it seems that in saving Clamecy that night, I had committed half a dozen crimes, any one of which would have been enough to bring me to the galleys;--but as none of this could have happened if they themselves had remained at the post of duty, they decided to pass it over in silence; a decision in which I naturally acquiesced. The less I have to do with courts of justice the better, I always think; for you never know how a trial will turn out, and innocence itself is no real protection. If you once get your little finger into the cursed machinery of the law, you are like to lose the whole arm, and you may have to cut that off to save your body: so between their lordships and myself there was a tacit agreement that they had seen nothing out of the way while I was Captain of Clamecy: because everything on that fateful night had been accomplished by themselves alone.

It is much easier, however, to shut one’s eyes to the past than to rub it off the slate: there is such a thing as memory, and, when we met face to face, it was awkward for both parties. I could see that they had a lurking dread of me, and to tell the truth I was rather afraid myself of this absurd unknown Breugnon, who had suddenly sprung up and performed such exploits. I had never supposed myself to be an Attila or a Cæsar; my eloquence had hitherto been inspired by wine rather than by war;--and in short on both sides we were shamefaced and out of sorts in mind and body. There is no remedy like hard work, and as the riots had provided plenty to do for every one in the town, we all went at it with the utmost energy. The ruins had to be cleared away first; then by good luck the harvest that year was unusually abundant, both in grain and fruit; and as for the vintage, the oldest inhabitant could remember nothing to equal it.

Our good Mother Earth seemed to have drunk so much of our blood, only that she might restore it to us in generous wine: for nothing in this world is really wasted or lost; everything has to go somewhere. If the rain falls from the clouds and is drawn up to them again, then why should not the blood in our veins go and come between us and the earth? I have always loved to think that in some former existence I was a vigorous vine-root, and shall be one again perhaps, during a delightful immortality. How good it would be to grow and flourish, to feel my dark velvety bunches of grapes swell and fill with sweet juices, under the warm sunshine: and it must be best of all to be eaten! Setting such speculations aside, the earth bled at every pore during this wonderful season, so that we did not know what to do with the juice of our vines. As there were not casks enough to go round, masses of grapes were heaped up in vats, without even pressing them. Father Coullemard, an old man who lived at Andries, could not dispose of his crop, and so offered his grapes at the vineyard, for thirty sous a barrel.

Imagine our feelings! In our part of the world we cannot bear to throw anything away; so, as there was nothing for it but to drink the wine on the spot, we all did our duty like men. The labors of Hercules were nothing to it, but I am afraid that the hero himself, and not Antæus, fell and touched Mother Earth!

Everybody felt cheerful and more like himself when this was over, but still there was something unpleasant,--a sort of constraint among us, and even in the midst of our carouses there was altogether too much solitary drinking,--in my opinion an evil and unhealthy practice. How long this sort of thing would have lasted, I cannot undertake to say, but chance intervened, and once more brought us all together. Love can unite _two_ hearts, but the only thing that can make a large number of men act as one, is the fear of a common enemy; and in our case, this enemy was our master. Duke Charles of Nevers took it into his head this year to forbid our games and dances, and as a natural consequence, every one who was not crippled with gout, and who could put foot to the ground, was seized with a perfect passion for dancing.