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"I come, my dear Gilbert," the count replied affec-
tionately, "as a teacher would come to a beloved pupil, to
warn him that he is making a mistake in attaching himself
to a crumbling ruin, a tottering edifice, a waning principle,
called Monarchy. A man like you should not be a man of
the past , or even of the present, but of the future. Abandon
this thing in which you do not believe for that in which
you do believe. Do not desert the substance, to follow
the shadow. If you will not be an active supporter of the
Revolution, be at least a passive looker-on ; do not try to
obstruct the road. Mirabeau was an intellectual giant, but
even Mirabeau had to succumb before the on-rushing tide
of progress."

" I will decide upon these matters when the king is in a


place of safety. The king has made me his confidant, his
auxiliary, his accomplice, so to speak. I have accepted
the trust he reposed in me, and I will be faithful to it until
the last. I am a physician, my dear count, and I must
make the physical welfare of my patient the first consid-
eration. Now, you must answer me in your turn. In your
mysterious projects and secret plans, is it essential for
this plot to succeed or fail? If you are resolved that it is
to prove a failure, it is useless to fight against you. Merely
say that we are not to go, and we will bow our heads and
await the blow."

"My brother," Cagliostro replied impressively, even
solemnly, "if, urged on by the God who has mapped out
my course, I should find it necessary to smite those whom
you love , or rather whom you feel it your duty to protect, I
should certainly remain in the shadow as much as possible,
and at least endeavour to leave you in ignorance as to the
source from which the blow came. I do not come as a
friend, — I, who have so often been the victim of kings,
cannot be their friend and champion; but, on the other
hand, I do not come as an enemy. I come with the scales
in my hand to tell you I have weighed this last Bourbon
in the balance and found him wanting; but I do not think
his death is essential to the success of our most holy cause.
Like Pythagoras, too, I hardly admit the right of man to
extinguish the life of the smallest and most insignificant
insect; so God forbid that I should rashly tamper with that
of a human being, — the lord of creation. Wherefore I
have come, not merely to say that I will remain neutral,
but to ask if my assistance is needed, and, if so, to proffer
it to you."

Once more Gilbert scrutinised his visitor's countenance
closely, as if endeavouring to read his secret heart.

" What a sceptic you are!" exclaimed the count. "As
a man of letters, you must know the story of Achilles'
lance, which could both wound and heal. I possess such
a weapon. The woman who once personated the queen in


the groves of Versailles, might she not also personate the
queen in the apartments of the Tuileries, or upon some
road other than that taken by the real queen? My sug-
gestion is not to be despised, I assure you, my dear

"Be frank enough to tell me why you make this offer."

"Merely in order that the king may leave Trance, and
so enable us to establish a republic."

" A republic ! "

"Why not?"

"Because when I examine France from north to south,
and from east to west, I fail to discover a single re-

"You are mistaken, for I see three, — Petion, Camille
Desmoulins, and your humble servant. You can see these
three as well as I can ; but there are others I see, but whom
you do not see, though you will when the time comes. You
can count upon my making a display that will astonish
you, then."

Gilbert reflected a moment ; then, extending his hand to
Cagliostro, he said: "If only my own life, reputation,
honour, and memory were at stake, I should accept your
offer at once; but a monarchy, a king, a queen, a dynasty,
and an entire country are involved, and I can make no
compact for them. So remain neutral, my dear count.
That is all I ask."

Cagliostro smiled.

"Yes, yes, I understand," he replied, "I am the 'Neck-
lace Man.' Never mind, the despised 'Necklace Man'
will give you some very good advice, nevertheless."

" Hush ! " said Gilbert. " Somebody just rang the bell."

"What does that matter? You know very well who it
is. It is Monsieur de Charny who is at the door. The
advice I was about to give you may be of service to him as
well. Come in, count, come in."

For Charny had appeared in the doorway; but seeing
Gilbert engaged in conversation with a stranger, when he

VOL. II. — 15


had expected to find him alone, he paused, in evident doubt
and anxiety.

"My advice is this," continued Cagliostro. "Beware of
too costly dressing-cases, too heavy vehicles, and, too strik-
ing likenesses. Adieu, Gilbert; adieu, count, and to use
the expression of those to whom I wish a prosperous jour-
ney, God have you in His holy keeping."

And, saluting Gilbert amicably, and the count most court-
eously, the prophet withdrew.

" Who is that man, doctor? " inquired Charny, when the
sound of Cagliostro's retreating footsteps had died away.

"One of my friends," replied Gilbert; " a man who knows
all our plans, it seems, but who came to give me his word
that he would not betray us."

" And his name — ?"

"Is Baron Zannone."

"It is strange," replied Charny, "I don't know the name,
and yet his face seems familiar. Have you the passport,

"Here it is, count."

Charny took the document, unfolded it, and was soon
so deeply absorbed in its perusal that he seemed to
have entirely forgotten Baron Zannone, at least for the
time being.




Meanwhile let us see what was going on in different parts
of the city on the night of the twentieth of June. It was
not without cause that the royal family regarded Madame
de Rochereul with suspicion. Though her duties ceased
on the eleventh, she invented an excuse for returning to
the palace, where she discovered that, though the queen's
jewel caskets were in their accustomed places, her diamonds
were missing. In fact, they had been intrusted by her
Majesty to her hairdresser, Léonard, who was also to leave
Paris on the night of the twentieth, a few hours in ad-
vance of his royal mistress, and under the protection of
Monsieur de Choiseul, who was to command the detachment
of troops stationed at the Sommeville Bridge. This gentle-
man also had charge of the relays of horses for Varennes,
and he was now at his house on the Rue d'Artois, waiting
for the final orders of the king and queen.

It was certainly rather imprudent to encumber Monsieur
de Choiseul with Master Leonard, or, indeed, for the queen
to take a hairdresser with her at all; but what foreign
artist could successfully undertake such wonderful coif-
fures as Léonard constructed for her? When one's hair-
dresser is a man of genius, one does not abandon him
without a struggle.

The result of all this was that Madame de Rochereul
shrewdly suspected that the time of departure was set for
the evening of Monday, the twentieth, and she imparted
her suspicions not only to her lover, Monsieur de Gouvion,
one of Lafayette's aides, but also to Monsieur Bailly, the
mayor of the city.


Lafayette went to the king and frankly told him of these
revelations, which he evidently considered unworthy of
notice, however.

Bailly was even more accommodating; for while Lafay-
ette became as blind as any astronomer, he, Bailly, became
as chivalrous as any knight, and even sent Madame de
Eochereul's letter to the queen.

Monsieur de Gouvion, being more strongly influenced by
his sweetheart, retained his suspicions, and, under the pre-
text of giving a little entertainment, had assembled about a
dozen of the officers of the National Guard at his rooms in
the Tuileries. Five or six of these men were posted by
him at different entrances to the palace, while he himself,
assisted by five of his brother officers, kept a close watch
over the doors of Monsieur de Villequier's apartments,
to which his attention had been specially directed.

About the same hour, in a parlour on the Rue Coq-Héron,
with which we are already familiar, sat a young woman
who was apparently as calm as she was beautiful, though
she was really moved to the depths of her inmost soul.
She was engaged in earnest conversation with a young man
about twenty-four years of age, who was standing in front
of her, attired in a jacket and breeches of buckskin, termin-
ating in a pair of high boots turned down at the top. He
was armed with a hunting-knife, and held his hat in his hand.

The young woman seemed to be finding fault with some
one ; the young man, to be defending him.

" Why has he not called to see me since his return to
Paris, two months and a half ago?" she asked.

" My brother has sent me to inquire for your welfare
several times since his return, madame."

" I am aware of that fact , viscount, and am duly grateful
to him ; but on the eve of another departure, it seems to
me that he might have come in person to bid me farewell."

" It must be impossible for him to do so, as he intrusts
this duty to me."

" Is this journey you are about to undertake likely to be
a long one ? "


"I do not know."

"Do you accompany your brother, or do you go in the
opposite direction ? "

"I believe we are to follow the same route, madame."

"Shall you tell him you have seen me ? "

"Certainly, madame; for, judging by the solicitude he
evinced, and his reiterated injunctions not to rejoin him
until after I had seen you, he would not be likely to forgive
such an omission on my part."

The young woman passed her hand over her eyes and
heaved a sigh; then, after reflecting a moment, said, —

" You are a gentleman, viscount, and will consequently
understand the full import of the question I am about to
ask you. Answer me as if I were really your sister;
answer me as you would answer your God, Is Monsieur
de Charny likely to incur any serious peril in the journey
he is about to undertake? "

" Who can say with certainty in these days, madame,
where danger does or does not lie?" responded Isidore,
endeavouring to evade the question. " If our poor brother
George had been asked on the morning of the fifth of Octo-
ber whether he thought there was aiiy danger, he would
undoubtedly have answered, 'No.' But the very next
morning he was lying cold and dead in the queen's door-
way. Danger seems to spring up out of the earth in this
age, madame, and one finds oneself suddenly brought face
to face with death, without knowing even whence it comes."

Andrée turned pale.

"Then his life will be in peril! Is it not so, viscount?"

"I did not say so, madame."

"But you think it, nevertheless?"

"I think, madame, that if there is anything of im-
portance you wish to say to my brother, the undertaking in
which he is about to engage is sufficiently dangerous to
make it advisable for you to transmit your wishes or
commands to him either in writing or by Avord of mouth."

"Very well, monsieur, then I will ask you to give me five


With the slow and deliberate step habitual to her, the
countess left the room. As she closed the door behind
her, the young man glanced anxiously at his watch.

"It's a quarter-past nine," he muttered, "and the king
expects me at half-past. Fortunately, it is only a step
from here to the Tuileries."

The countess did not even take so much time as she had
mentioned, for iii a few seconds she returned with a sealed
letter in her hand.

Isidore extended his hand to take it.

"Wait, and do not forget what I am about to say to you.
If your brother — if the Comte de Charny — should accom-
plish his undertaking without any accident befalling him,
you are to say to him nothing except what I have already
told you; that is, you are merely to tell him how much I
admire and respect his loyalty and devotion, as well as his
many other noble traits of character. If he should be
wounded, — dangerously wounded," here Andree's voice
changed slightly, — " ask him to grant me the privilege of
going to him. If he will, you can surely send a messenger
to tell me where I can find my husband, and I will go to
him at once. Should he be wounded unto death," — here
her voice failed her utterly, for a moment, — "you are to
give him this letter. If he is unable to read it himself,
you may read it to him, for I wish him to know its con-
tents before his death. Upon your honour as a gentleman,
will you promise to do what I ask, viscount?"

Isidore's emotion equalled her own as he again extended
his hand for the letter.

" I promise on my honour, madame."

"Then take the letter and go, viscount."

The young man imprinted a respectful kiss upon her
hand, and withdrew.

"Ah !" exclaimed Andrée, sinking back upon the sofa,
"if he should die, I want him to know how much I loved him."

At the very same moment that Isidore left the countess
with the precious letter concealed in his breast, two other


men, clad in precisely the same costume, were making their
way towards the place of meeting agreed upon, that is to
say, the queen's boudoir. One was traversing that portion
of the Louvre now used as a picture gallery, at the farther
end of which he found Weber awaiting him. The other
was ascending the same narrow stairway Charny had used
on his return from Montmedy, and at the head of the stairs
he, too, found a guide awaiting for him in the person of
François Hué, the king's valet; so the two men were ushered
into the boudoir almost simultaneously, though by different
doors. The first to enter was Monsieur de Valory, and
he started violently on seeing his counterpart come in;
but taking it for granted that they were both summoned
for the same purpose, the two officers bowed, and then
approached each other.

A moment later another door opened, and the Vicomte de
Charny appeared. He had no acquaintance with the other
men ; but he alone of the three knew Avhy they had been
sent for, as well as the task that was before them, and it is
quite probable that he would have promptly enlightened his
future comrades, had not still another door opened and the
king appeared before them.

"Gentlemen," said his Majesty turning to Valory and
Maiden, "you will pardon me, I trust, for having thus
disposed of you without your permission, but I supposed
you faithful servants of royalty inasmuch as you both
formerly belonged to my body-guard; so I ventured to
request you both to call upon a certain tailor, in order that
each of you might have a courier's suit made, and then
come to the Tuileries this evening at half-past nine o'clock.
Your presence here indicates that you are willing to
accept the mission I see fit to intrust to you, whatever it
may be."

Both gentlemen bowed low before their sovereign.

"Sire, your Majesty knows perfectly well that he has
no need to consult his gentlemen, but that their devotion


and tlieir lives are entirely at his service, to dispose of
as he sees fit," said Valory.

"In answering for himself, sire, my comrade answers
for me and for this other gentleman as well, I presume,"
added Maiden.

" This other gentleman, whose acquaintance 1 can heartily
commend to you, is the Vicomte Isidore de Charny, whose
brother was killedat Versailles while defending the queen's
apartments. We are accustomed to such devotion on the
part of the members of his family, but we are none the
less grateful to them ! "

" From what your Majesty says, I judge that the viscount
knows the object of our meeting, while we are ignorant of
it, and would like to be enlightened as soon as possible."

"You are perfectly well aware, gentlemen, that I am
virtually a prisoner," began the king, "and I depend upon
you to rescue me from this humiliating position, and to
assist me in regaining my liberty. My fate, as well as
that of the queen and our children, is in your hands.
Preparations for our immediate departure have been made,
only you must assist us in getting away."

"You have only to give your orders, sire," said both
young men, in the same breath.

"We cannot all leave the palace together, gentlemen, as
you will very readily understand. Our place of meeting
is to be on the corner of the Rue St.-Nicaise, where the
Comte de Charny will be waiting for us with a hired carriage.
You, viscount, will take charge of the queen, and answer
to the name of Melchior ; you, Maiden, are to take charge
of Madame Elizabeth and Madame Royale, and call yourself
Jean ; you, Monsieur de Valory, will have charge of
Madame de Tourzel and the dauphin, and call yourself
François. Do not forget your new names, and remain here
until you receive further instructions."

And, after offering his hand in turn to each of the three
men, the king withdrew.


Meanwhile, Choiseul, who had announced to the king the
evening before, on behalf of Monsieur de Bouille, that it
would be impossible to defer the departure later than mid-
night of the twentieth, and that if he did not receive word
to the contrary he should start at four o'clock on the
morning of the twenty-first with the detachments of troops
for Dun, Stenay, and Montmedy, — Choiseul, as we have
before remarked, was at his house on the Eue d'Artois,
where he was to await his sovereign's final orders; and as
it was after nine o'clock, he was beginning to despair,
when the only servant he had retained, came in and informed
him that a messenger from the queen desired an interview
with him.

Choiseul ordered him to be ushered in, and a man entered,
enveloped in an immense overcoat, with a soft hat pulled
far down over his eyes.

"Ah, Léonard, so you have come at last. I have been
waiting for you very impatiently," exclaimed the duke.

" If I have kept you waiting, monsieur, it is not my fault,
but the queen's, for she did not tell me until about ten
minutes ago that I was to come here."

"Did she tell you nothing more?" inquired Choiseul.

"Certainly, sir. She intrusted all her diamonds to me,
and told me to give you this letter."

"Hand it over then," said the duke, half angrily, for he
was anything but pleased by the air of importance the royal
messenger gave himself.

The letter was long and full of directions. It announced
that the royal family would leave at midnight, and advised
Choiseul to start at once, taking Léonard, who had received
orders, the queen wrote, to obey the duke as he would obey

The following words, underscored, were appended to the
letter: "J hereby renew this order."

The duke surveyed Leonard, who was waiting with evi-
dent anxiety. The barber looked grotesque enough under
his enormous hat, and almost lost in a big overcoat with a
number of capes.


"Kow try to get your wits together," exclaimed the
duke. "What did the queen tell you?"

"I can repeat it word for word."

"Go on, then; I am listening."

"She sent for me three-quarters of an hour ago,
monsieur — "

"Very well."

"And said to me in a low voice — "

"Her Majesty was not alone, then ?"

"No, monsieur. The king was talking with Madame
Elizabeth in the alcove. The dauphin and Madame Eoyale
were playing together. As for the queen, she was leaning
against the mantel — "

"Go on, Léonard, go on."

"Well, the queen said to me in a low tone, 'Léonard,
I am sure I can rely upon you.' — * Dispose of me as you
please, Madame, ' said I ; ' your Majesty knows that I am
devoted to you, body and soul.' — 'Then take these dia-
monds,' says she, ' and hide them in your pockets. Take
this letter, too, and carry it to the Due de Choiseul on the
Rue d'Artois.' Then, as I was about starting to carry out
the queen's orders, her Majesty called me back and said:
'Put on a broad-brimmed hat and a big overcoat, so that
nobody will recognise you, my dear Léonard, and obey
Monsieur de Choiseul exactly as you would obey me.' "

" So the queen bade you obey me exactly as you would
obey her ! "

"Those were her Majesty's very words, monsieur."

" I am glad you remember her verbal instructions so well.
But here is the same order in writing; and as 1 am obliged
to burn this letter, you had better see for yourself."

And Choiseul handed the letter to the barber, who read
the following lines aloud : —

" I have instructed rtiy hair-dresser, Léonard, to obey you
exactly as he would obey vie. I hereby renew that order."
• "You understand, do you not? " asked the duke.

"As if her Majesty's verbal order would not be suflicient,
sir ! " protested Léonard.


"No matter."

And he burned the letter.

Just then, the servant entered, and announced that the
carriage was ready.

"Come, Leonard," said the duke.

"What ! am I to go with you? And the diamonds?"

"You are to take them with you."

"And where?"

"Where I take you."

"And where are you going to take me?"

"Many leagues away, to fulfil a special mission."

"Impossible, monsieur."

"And why? Did not the queen tell you to obey me ex-
actly as you would obey her? "

" That is true. But how can I do it ? My brother and
I have rooms together ; I left the key in the door of our
lodgings, and when my brother goes home he won't find
either his hat or riding-coat, for I appropriated them both.
Besides, he won't have any idea where I am. And then,
there 's Madame de I'Aage, whose hair I promised to dress,
and who is waiting for me now."

" Never mind, my dear Léonard , your brother will have
to buy another hat and coat, and Madame de I'Aage will
have to wait until some other day for you to dress her

And without paying any further attention to Leonard's
protests and expostulations, the duke forced the disconsolate
hair-dresser to enter the cabriolet which was in waiting, and
then started his horse off at a brisk trot in the direction
of the Barrière de la Petite Villette.

The duke had scarcely passed the last houses of the
Petite Villette when a party of five men who were saunter-
ing down the Eue St. Honoré on their way home from a
meeting of the Jacobin Club, began to comment upon the
unusual beauty and tranquillity of the night. These five
men were Danton , Preron, Chenier, Legendre,and Desmou-
lins, who himself relates the incident.


As they readied the corner of the Eue de l'Echelle,
Desmoulius remarked, glancing towards the Tuileries :
"Upon my word, Paris is as quiet to-night as if it were
deserted. jSTot a single policeman have we seen during
our entire walk."

" That 's because arrangements have been made to leave
the way clear for the king, perhaps."

"What? to leave the way clear for the king, did you
say ? "

"Undoubtedly, as he starts to-night."

"You 're joking," exclaimed Legendre.

"It may be a joke, but I was so informed by letter,"
replied Freron, — "an anonymous letter, though. I have
it with me. Here, see for yourself."

The five men approached a hack that was standing at the
corner of the Eue St. Nicaise, and by the light of its lamps
read the following : —

" Citizen Freron is hereby informed that Monsieur Capet, the
Austrian woman, and their two brats will leave Paris to-night to
join General de Bouille, the butcher of Nancy, who is awaiting them
on the frontier."

"Monsieur CajJet f That's a good name for him,"
exclaimed Desmoulins. "I'll call him that, henceforth,
instead of Louis XVI."

"There 's only one objection," remarked Chenier. "The
family name of Louis XVI. is not Capet, but Bourbon."

"Nonsense! Who cares for that? Only two or three
bookworms like Chenier, perhaps."

"But what if the contents of this letter are true, and
this is really the night the entire gang intend to decamp?"

"As we are close to the Tuileries, suppose we go and
see," suggested Desmoulins.

And the five patriots amused themselves by making the
circuit of the palace.

On their way back they met Lafayette and his stafE
entering the Tuileries.


"There is Blondinet going in to put the royal family
to bed," exclaimed Danton. "Our labors are ended; his
are just beginning. Good-night, gentlemen. Who is going
my way?"

"I," responded Legendre.

And the party separated, Danton and Legendre crossing
Carrousel Square, while Chenier, Freron, and Camille
Desmoulins turned the corner of the Eue de Kohan into the

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