The Queen's Confession Part 36

I left the King in conference with de La Fayette and went to my room. My women undressed me; the servants fastened the shutters, and I was alone. I looked at the clock. It was eleven fifteen - the longest half hour I had ever known.

Madame Thiebaut came into the room. I was out of bed in a second and she was helping me to put on the gray gown and black mantle. There was a large hat with a veil falling from it to shade my face. I looked unlike myself - but I was ready.

Madame Thiebaut slipped back the bolt on the door and I started out. I jumped back in terror. There was a sentry outside my door. I shut the door quietly and looked at Madame Thiebaut. What now? They had heard. They were waiting for me to go and then ... they would stop me. Had they already stopped the citadine? What was happening to my children, to my lover?

Madame Thiebaut said she would slip out and that might engage the sentry's attention; when his back was turned I must somehow cross the corridor and reach those empty apartments. It was a desperate plan; but it had to be.

And we did it. I had been always light on my feet and spurred on by the thought of the children I dashed across the corridor to the staircase and flew down; I stood for a second listening; there was no sound of commotion. I had succeeded.

Outside the unguarded door of the empty apartment the loyal guard who was to conduct me to the rendezvous in the Rue de l'Ech.e.l.le was waiting. He was disguised as a courier and I scarcely recognized him.

"Madame," he whispered; and I could sense his agitation. The affair of the sentry had delayed me almost ten minutes. "You should take my arm."

I did so and we walked across the Cour des Princes in the manner, I hoped, of a courier and his wife or mistress.

No one looked at us. It is succeeding, I thought. Soon I shall be with the children.

It was fantastic. Here I was walking through the streets of Paris on the arm of a courier, brus.h.i.+ng shoulders with men and women who did not give me a second glance ... fortunately. I wondered what they would say, what they would do if someone suddenly recognized the Queen. But it was something I dared not think of.

How little I knew of our capital city! The alleys and byways were new to me. All I knew of it were the palaces, the Opera House, the theaters ...

My companion drew up suddenly with a start, for a coach was coming toward us and before it walked the torchbearers in the livery of La Fayette. I was quickly drawn into the dark shadow; I lowered my head, but through my veil I saw the General. There was one second when, had he looked into my face, he who knew me so well would have recognized me and that would have been the end of everything.

But luck at that moment was with me. He did not glance at the woman on the pavement and his coach went rattling on. I felt dizzy with the shock and I heard the man beside me whisper: "Thank G.o.d, Madame! A lucky escape."

"Perhaps," I murmured, "he would not have recognized me in this."

He answered: "Madame, it is not easy for you to disguise yourself. I am going to take a slightly longer route to the Rue de l'Ech.e.l.le. We cannot risk meeting any more carriages."

"I think that would be best."

"We must hurry because it will take a little longer and we are already late."

So instead of taking the planned route through the main streets we went through the byways and alleys and when we had gone a little way, my guide stopped and declared himself lost.

I was conscious of the time, which had seemed so slow during that first half hour, and now was maliciously rus.h.i.+ng by. My companion was mortified, myself in a panic. I pictured Axel's anxiety. Even my husband must be there by now, for we had seen La Fayette leaving the palace and as soon as he was rid of him, Louis would have prepared himself to leave.

For half an hour we wandered through those alleys - afraid to ask the way - and then at last my guide gave a cry of triumph. We had reached the Rue de l'Ech.e.l.le.

They were all there, Axel, pacing the pavement; Elisabeth as pale as a ghost; the King roused from his usual placidity; my daughter calming my son, who was plaintively asking when I was coming.

"We lost our way," I said; and Axel helped me into the citadine.

In the coach everyone was trying to embrace me at once. I felt so relieved I was almost in tears. I took my son onto my knee while my husband told me how easily he had affected his escape.

We must have been an hour late.

The King looked out on his city as we rode through it. He was feeling very sad, I knew, because he had stood out for so long against running away; it seemed to him unworthy of his ancestors. I took his hand and pressed it and he returned the pressure.

He whispered to me: "This is not the quickest way to the Saint Martin Barrier."

"The ... the coachman will know the way," I answered.

"It is not the quickest way," he said; and I wondered whether he was stirred to some resentment because the hero of this adventure was my lover and not himself. He had seemed to understand my need of Axel so well; but perhaps there were some depths which I had not yet probed in this unusual man who was my husband.

The carriage drew up in the Rue de Clichy where the berlin had been kept. Axel leapt down and knocked on the door. The porter told him that the berlin had left at the appointed time. Satisfied, Axel jumped into the driver's seat and we were off.

It was half-past one when we went through the Barrier. On for a little and then we stopped. There was consternation, for the berlin was not where it had been arranged it should be.

Axel was nonplussed. He dismounted and I could hear him calling. We sat there while time began its trick of racing on. How much time had we lost so? How late were we so far?

It was half an hour before Axel found the berlin. The coachman whom Axel had employed had grown anxious because we were so late and had thought he had better hide the berlin in a less prominent position. This he had done with the consequence that we lost half an hour looking for it.

It was now two o'clock; this was the height of summer and the nights were the shortest. In an hour or so dawn would be on us. We should have been much farther on our journey by now.

Axel drove the citadine to the side of the berlin so that we could get into the latter without leaving the former. We settled in and were away and in half an hour we had reached Bondy, the place where the King had decreed that Axel was to leave us.

I almost thought he would refuse to leave us; but Axel was a born royalist; he would accept the orders of the King.

Bondy! The place of separation. We had drawn up. The carriage door opened and there was our coachman.

"Adieu, Madame de Korff," he said. And he was looking at me.

The King said in moving tones that he would never forget the service Axel had done to him and his family.

Axel bowed and replied it had been his duty and his pleasure. He leaned toward me and said: "Your Majesty should not forget that for the journey you are Madame Rochet the governess." And in those words he managed to convey a world of tenderness and devotion.

Axel mounted the horse which he had arranged should take him back to Le Bourget; then he left us. And as I listened to his horse's hoofs on the road I tried to still the foreboding in my heart and to tell myself that in two days' time we should meet at Montmedy.

Then we resumed our journey.

We were two hours behind schedule.

The children slept and I was glad of this. So did the King. Would anything disturb his slumbers? Elisabeth, Madame de Tourzel, and I closed our eyes. I doubt if those two slept; I know I did not.

The Dauphin woke. He was hungry.

I told him we would have a picnic. He had always loved them. He began to chatter. We would find a spot. A shady spot perhaps. It would be a breakfast picnic. I told him it would be a carriage picnic; and I showed him the cupboard in the coach and the food and wine it contained. He was delighted and we all declared that he made such an odd little girl in his frock and bonnet that we were soon laughing as we discovered how hungry we all were.

How different, I thought, everything is by daylight. It is at night that the fears come. Yet it was the cover of darkness we needed badly. The bright suns.h.i.+ne could serve to betray us. I remembered those words: "It is difficult for you to disguise yourself, Madame." They were true. My picture had been painted many times. It had hung in the salons; crude drawings of me had been circulated daily about the city and although, I trust, these were ill representations, they bore some resemblance of likeness, for the people had to know whom the picture was meant to portray.

Still for the time being I laughed with the children as we devoured the delicacies which Axel had provided as being fit for a royal party.

And I tried not to think of what would be happening back at the Tuileries, where our escape would very soon be discovered if it had not been already.

Louis took a map and followed the route we were to take ... after Bondy, Claye, where we pick up the two ladies who had gone on ahead, and then La Ferte and on to Chalons-sur-Marne.

Chalons-sur-Marne! How I longed to be there, for there we should meet the cavalry under the young Duc de Choiseul, nephew of my old friend, and outside that town, Bouille would be waiting to conduct us to Montmedy ... and at Montmedy ... safety ... and Axel.

How much happier I should have felt if Axel had been driving us now!

The Dauphin whimpered that he was hot. It was certainly stifling in the berlin, which labored painfully up the hills overloaded as it was. Madame de Tourzel suggested that she get out and walk up the hill with the children, which would lighten the load and give them a little fresh air and the opportunity to stretch their legs.

This seemed a good idea, but the Dauphin wanted to stay in the fields awhile and he ran away and Madame de Tourzel and his sister had to catch him. The sound of his merry shrieks was like a tonic, but the minutes were slipping by.

In the afternoon we stopped at Pet.i.t Chaintry, the small village near Chaintry, for Axel had wisely said that we should change horses at the smaller rather than the larger places.

At the inn a young man came out to look at the berlin. He was talkative; I heard him chatting to the coachman. He had never seen such a magnificent carriage. The occupants must be very rich and important people. His name he said was Vallet ... Gabriel Vallet and he was the postmaster's son-in-law. He was an innkeeper himself and he often went to Paris.

He pa.s.sed the window of the coach, I was sure to see what manner of people traveled in such style. And as he looked in at us he knew.

I glanced uneasily at Louis. His wig was the rough wig of the lackey he was supposed to be, but those heavy Bourbon features had been well known in France for centuries. Then his eyes went to me. Did I look like a governess? I felt the haughty look coming into my face which always seemed now to be there much as I tried to suppress it when I came into contact with the people.

He moved away and went to the postmaster; I saw them whispering together. Then the postmaster approached the carriage.

He bowed and his words sent s.h.i.+vers through me.

"Your Majesties, this is a great honor. And we shall remember it as long as we live. We are humble, but all we have is at your service."

Louis, who had always been moved by any affection displayed by his subjects, was even more so now. Tears came into his eyes and he said that it made him very happy to be with friends.

The postmaster signed to his wife and children who all came to the berlin and were presented; then Vallet's wife came and she too mumbled her awareness of the honor.

"Your Majesties, we have a goose cooked already to be eaten. If you would honor us by eating it, we should be deeply honored."

Louis was the King immediately. To refuse such an invitation would be churlish. Therefore we must all descend and eat goose with the postmaster. The children were delighted. It was such a pleasure to get out of the stuffy berlin. And it was quite clear that this loyal family were aware that we were escaping from Paris.

When we had eaten and the King explained that it was imperative he must say good-bye, although he would have wished to spend more time with such kind, good people, Val-let asked a favor. Could he act as postilion on the berlin as far as Chalons-sur-Marne?

How could the King refuse such an offer of loyal service? We would have an extra pa.s.senger, but there was no help for it and so we set off. And to show his zeal Vallet tried to drive the berlin beyond its capabilities with the result that two of the horses fell and there was damage to the traces. Repairs took further time and when we arrived at Chalons, we were even farther behind the arranged time.

Chalons was a larger town, but the people were more interested in wine growing than the Revolution; the berlin attracted attention, but the people shrugged their shoulders. Some rich emigres. There were too many of such people to cause a great deal of comment.

It had been a mistake to bring Vallet, I began to realize, for although he was the most loyal of subjects, he could not hide his awareness of the honor that had been done to him. While the horses were being changed one or two people spoke to him and he betrayed the fact that he was on no ordinary mission. People were already looking askance at the magnificent vehicle. Two children I That in itself was suspicious.

I was very glad when we left Chalons, although the King had noticed nothing. As we rode out of the town he settled down to a nap.

We were near Pont de Somme-Vesle; at that town, according to the plan, we should meet the Duc de Choiseul's cavalry; he would then join us and remain with us until we reached Bouille's loyal troops.

The worst was over. We could all settle down secure in the thought that we were really at the end of our journey.

The heat grew intense. My son wanted to get out and pick some flowers. He loved flowers and he had missed his little garden at Trianon sadly.

"Please, Madame Rochet," he said mischievously, for I had warned him that part of the play was that I was his governess and he must not forget it.

The King woke up and said that he believed Monsieur le Dauphin should have his wish and that it would do us all good to stop for a while.

So the c.u.mbersome vehicle pulled up at the side of the road and Madame de Tourzel and Elisabeth got out with the children.

The Dauphin was picking the flowers and bringing them to me.

I was longing to move on, but the King said a few minutes more could do no harm and he sat benignly smiling at the children through the open door.

And while we sat there we heard the sound of galloping hoofs, and soon a rider came into view. He was coming straight toward us and as he approached the berlin he did not stop, although he slackened his pace. As he came level with us he shouted: "Take care. Your plan is known. You will be stopped."

Before we could question him, he had ridden on.

We summoned the others back to the berlin and the King gave orders for us to proceed at once with all speed.

Into Pont de Somme-Vesle, where the cavalry should be waiting. The place was deserted. While the horses were being changed a cavalryman rode up.

"Where is the Duc de Choiseul?" asked the King.

"He has left, Sire," was the answer.

"Left! But he had orders to meet us here."

"You did not arrive at the appointed time, Sire. He could not understand the confused message of Monsieur Leonard and Monsieur de Choiseul presumed that you had not left Paris and the plan was called off."

"He had orders to wait."

"Yes, Sire, but he feared trouble. People were asking why there were troops on the road and there were rumors that a magnificent berlin grand enough for royalty alone was on the road. There has been trouble between the peasants and soldiers, so Monsieur de Choiseul has gone to Clermont and has sent Monsieur Leonard with a message to the Marquis de Bouille explaining this."

Now I was frightened. I saw the chain of misfortunes which had led us to this - the sentry, the immense ill-luck of meeting La Fayette's carriage, which had made us change our route; that was the beginning. Then the inability to find the berlin ... but one misfortune had grown out of another. We should not have stayed to eat the goose. We should not have allowed the children those rests by the roadside. I can see that it was not only fate which was to blame and I wondered vaguely whether it ever is.

"But we must go on," I said. "We must go without our escort. We have missed the support of Choiseul's hussars, but the dragoons will be at Sainte-Menehould and we must join up with them as soon as possible."

Uneasily we rode on.

When we came into Sainte-Menehould, I knew that something was wrong. This was not as Axel had planned. Oh, why had he not come with us? That seemed to me the greatest misfortune of all. The town was full of soldiers and this naturally aroused the curiosity of the people. Something very extraordinary was about to happen in their town. What?

And into this town of suspicion rolled the most elaborate berlin which had ever been created and its pa.s.sengers were two children, a lackey who looked astonis.h.i.+ngly like the King, and a governess who had an uncontrollably haughty air, and a Russian lady who could not somehow hide her deference toward her lackey and governess; and a quiet woman who was supposed to be a maid of some sort yet who had the air of a Princesse.

Who were these travelers? Rich emigres, yes, but very special emigres and they had a striking resemblance to a very celebrated family.

I did not know then, but I was to learn later that the son of the postmaster was an ardent revolutionary, a certain Jean-Baptiste Drouet. He had looked at us sullenly and not recognized us; but rumor was in the air.

It must have been after the horses were changed and we were on our way to Varennes that someone told Drouet the news. The King and Queen had escaped from Paris and were traveling along this road toward Montmedy.

It was ten o'clock when we came into Varennes. The King was sleeping, but I felt I should never sleep easily until I was in Montmedy. It was dark.

We were pa.s.sing under an archway and there was just room for the berlin when we were suddenly called to a halt.

A voice said: "Pa.s.sports."

Madame de Tourzel produced the forged doc.u.ment with which Axel had provided her and which announced that she was Madame de Korff from Russia traveling with her children and servants.

I did not recognize the man who took the pa.s.sport as Jean-Baptiste Drouet who had been at the posting station at Sainte-Menehould; but I did realize that he was trembling with excitement.