"He is neither deaf nor dumb," said the doctor, solemnly. "He is simply a good son, who would not sing the song which made sport of his n.o.ble and unfortunate mother. See whether I am not right: see these tears which run from his closed eyes. He has heard us, he has understood us, and he answers us with his tears! Oh, sire," he continued pa.s.sionately, "by the sacred remembrance of your father and your mother, I swear devotion to you until death; I swear that I have come to set you free, to die for you. Look up, my king and my darling one! I intrust to you and to both these witnesses my whole secret; I let the mask fall to show myself to you in my true form, that you may confide in me, and know that the most devoted of your servants is kneeling before you, and that he dedicates his life to you. Open your eyes, Louis of France, and see whether you know me!"

He sprang up, threw off the great peruke, and the long black cloak, and stood before them in the uniform of an official guard.

"Thunder and guns!" cried Simon, with a loud laugh. "it is--"

"Hush!" interrupted the other--"hush! He alone shall declare who I am! Oh, look at me, my king; convince these unbelieving ones here that your mind is clear and strong, and that you are conscious of what is going on around you. Look at me, and if you know me, speak my name!"

And with folded hands, in unspeakable emotion, he leaned over the bed of the child, that still lay with closed eyes.

"I knew that he could hear nothing, and that he was deaf," growled Simon, while his wife folded her trembling hands, and with tearful eyes whispered a prayer.

A deep silence ensued, and with anxious expectation each looked at the boy. At length he slowly raised the heavy, reddened eyelids, and looked with a timid, anxious glance around himself. Then his gaze fixed itself upon the eloquent, speaking face of the man whose tears were falling like warm dew-drops upon his pale, sunken features.

A quiver pa.s.sed over the coutenance of the boy, a beam of joy lighted up his eyes, and something like a smile played around his trembling lips.

"Do you know me? Do you know my name?"

The child raised his hand in salutation, and said, in a clear, distinct voice: "Toulan! Fidele!"

Toulan fell on his knees again and covered the little thin hand of the boy with his tears and his kisses.

"Yes, Fidele," he sobbed. "That is the t.i.tle of honor which your royal mother gave me--that is the name that she wrote on the bit of paper which she put into the gold smelling-bottle that she gave me.

That little bottle, which a queen once carried, is my most precious possession, and yet I would part with that if I could save the life of her son, happy if I could but retain the hallowed paper on which the queen's hand wrote the word 'Fidele.' Yes, you poor, pitiable son of kings, I am Fidele, I am Toulan, at whom you have so often laughed when he played with you in your prison."

A flash like the sunlight pa.s.sed over the face of the child, and a smile illumined his features.

"She used to laugh, too," he whispered--"she, too, my mamma queen."

"Yes, she too laughed at our jests," said Toulan, with a voice choked with tears; "and, believe me, she looks down from heaven upon us and smiles her blessing, for she knows that Toulan has come to free her dear son, and to deliver him from the executioner's hands.

Tell me now, my king and my dearly-loved lord, will you trust me, will you give to your most devoted servant and subject the privilege of releasing you? Do you consent to accept freedom at the hands of your Fidele?"

The child threw a timid, anxious glance at Simon and his wife, and then, with a shudder, turned his head to one side.

"You make no answer, sire," said Toulan, imploringly. "Oh! speak, my king, may I set you free?"

The boy spoke a few words in reply, but so softly that Toulan could not understand him. He stooped down nearer to him, and put his ear close to the lips of the child. He then could hear the words, inaudible to all but him,

"He will disclose you; take care, Toulan. But do not say any thing, else he will beat me to death!"

Toulan made no reply; he only impressed a long, tender kiss upon the trembling hand of the child.

"Did he speak?" asked Simon. "Did you understand, citizen, what he said?"

"Yes, I understood him," answered Toulan. "He consents; he allows me to make every attempt to free him, and is prepared to do every thing that we ask of him. And now I ask you too, are you prepared to help me release the prince?"

"You know already, Toulan," said Simon, quickly, "that we are prepared for every thing, provided that our conditions are fulfilled. Give me a tolerable position outside of the Temple; give me a good bit of money, so that I may live free from care, and if the new place should not suit me, that I could go into the country, and not have to work at all; give my Jeanne Marie her health and cheerfulness again, and I will help you set young Capet free."

"Through my a.s.sistance, and that of Doctor Naudin, you shall have a good place outside of the Temple," answered Toulan, eagerly.

"Besides this, at the moment when you deliver the prince into my hands, outside of this prison, I will pay you in ready money the sum of twenty thousand francs; and as for the third condition, that about restoring her health to Jeanne Marie, I am sure that I can fulfil this condition too. Do you not know, Simon, what your wife is suffering from? Do you not know what her sickness is?"

"No, truly not. I am no doctor. How should I know what her sickness is?"

"Then I will tell you, Citizen Simon. Your wife is suffering from the worst of all complaints, a bad conscience! Yes, it is a bad conscience that robs her of her sleep and rest; it is that which makes her see the white, pale form of the martyred queen in the night, and read the word 'murderer' in her eyes."

"He is right!-oh, he is right!" groaned Jeanne Marie, falling on her knees. "I am to blame for her death, for I denounced Toulan to the authorities just when he was on the point of saving her. I tortured her!--oh, cruelly tortured her, and I laughed when she ascended the scaffold, and I laughed too, even when she gave me that dreadful look. But I have bitterly regretted it since, and now she gnaws at me like a scorpion. I wanted to drive her away from me at first, and therefore I was cruel to her son, for I wanted to put an end to the fearful remorse that was tormenting me. But it grew even more powerful within me. The more I beat the boy, the more his tears moved me, and often I thought I should die when I heard him cry and moan. Yes, yes, it is a bad conscience that has made me sick and miserable! But I will do right after this. I repent--oh, I repent!

Here I lay my hand on the heart of this child and swear to his murdered mother I will do right again! I swear that I will free her son! I swear by all that is sacred in heaven and on earth that I will die myself, unless we succeed in freeing this child! I* swear to you, Marie Antoinette, that I will free him. But will you forgive me even then? Will you have rest in your poor grave, and not come to my bedside and condemn me and accuse me with your sad, dreadful eyes?"

"Free her son, Jeanne Marie," said Toulan, solemnly, "and his mother will forgive you, and her hallowed shade will no longer disturb your sleep, for you will then have restored to her the peace of the grave! But you, Citizen Simon, will you too not swear that you will faithfully a.s.sist in releasing the royal prince? Do you not know that conscience is awake in your heart too, and compels you to have compa.s.sion on the poor boy?"

"I know it, yes, I know it," muttered Simon, confused. "His gentle eyes and his sad bearing have made me as weak and as soft as an old woman. It is high time that I should be rid of the youngster, else it will be with me just as it is with my wife, and I shall have convulsions and see ghosts with daggers in their eyes. And so, in order to remain a strong man and have a good conscience and a brave heart, I must be rid of the boy, and must know that I have done him some service, and have been his deliverer. And so I swear by the sacred republic, and by our hallowed freedom, that I will help you and do all that in me lies to release little Capet and get him away from here. I hope you will be satisfied with my oath, Toulan, for there is nothing for me more sacred than the republic and freedom."

"I am satisfied, Simon, and I trust you. And now let us talk it all over and consider it, my dear allies. The whole plan of the escape is formed in my head, all the preparations are made, and if you will faithfully follow all that I bid you, in one week's time you will be free and happy."

"So soon as a week!" cried Simon, delightedly. "Yes, in a week, for it happens fortunately that one of the officials of the Public Safety service is dangerously sick and has been carried to the Hotel Dien. Doctor Naudin says that he can live but three days longer, and then the post will be vacant. We must be active, therefore, and take measures for you to gain the place. Now listen to me, and mark my words."

They had a long conversation by the bedside of the little prince, and they saw that he perfectly understood the whole plan which Toulan unfolded in eloquent words, for his looks took on a great deal of expression; he fixed his eyes constantly on Toulan, and a smile played about his lips.

Simon and Simon's wife were also perfectly satisfied with Toulan's communication, and repeated their readiness to do every thing to further the release of the prince, if they in return could only be removed from the Temple.

"I will at once take the steps necessary to the success of my plan,"

said Toulan, taking his leave with a friendly nod, and kissing the boy's hand respectfully.

"Fidele," whispered Louis, "Fidele, do you believe that I shall be saved?"

"I am sure of it, my dear prince. The grace of G.o.d and the blessing of your exalted parents will be our helpers in bringing this good work to a completion. Farewell, and preserve as long as you remain here the same mood that I found you in. Show little interest in what goes on, and appear numb and stupid. I shall not come again, for after this I must work for you outside of the prison. But Doctor Naudin will come every day to see you, and on the day of your flight I shall be by your side. Till then, G.o.d bless you, my dear prince!"

Toulan left the prison of the little Capet and repaired at once to the H6tel Dieu, where he had a long conversation with Doctor Naudin.

At the end of it, the director of the hospital entered his carriage and drove to the city hall, in whose largest chamber a committee of the Public Safety officials were holding a public meeting. With earnest and urgent words the revered and universally valued physician gave the report about the visits which he had made at the Temple for some days at the command of the authorities, and about the condition of affairs there. Petion the elder, the presiding officer of the committee, listened to the report with a grave repose, and the picture of the low health of the "little Capet,"

while he paid the most marked attention to that part of the report which concerned the Simons.

"Citizen Simon has deserved much of the country, and he is one of the most faithful supporters of the one and indivisible republic,"

said Petion, when Doctor Naudin ended his report. "The republic must, like a grateful mother, show grat.i.tude to her loyal sons, and care for them tenderly. So tell us, Citizen Naudin, what must be done in order to restore health to Citizen Simon and his wife."

"They are both sick from the same cause, and, therefore, they both require the same remedy. That remedy is, a change of air and a change of location. Let Simon have another post, where he shall be allowed to exercise freely out of doors, and where he shall not be compelled to breathe only the confined air of a cell; and let his wife not be forced to listen to the whining and the groaning of the little sick Capet. In one word, give to them both liberty to move around, and the free air, and they will, without any doubt, and within a short time, regain their health."

"It is true," said Petion, "the poor people lead a sad life in the Temple, and are compelled to breathe the air that the last scions of tyranny have contaminated with their poisonous breaths. We owe it to them to release them from this bad atmosphere, in consideration of their faithful and zealous service to the country. Citizen Simon has always taken pains to repair the great neglect in Capet's education, and to make the worthless boy prove some day a worthy son of the republic."

"But even if Simon should remain in the Temple, he would not be able to go on much longer with the education of the boy," said the hospital director, with a shrug.

"What do you mean by that, citizen doctor?" asked Petion, with a pleasant lighting up of his eyes.

"I mean that the boy has not a long time to live, for he is suffering at once from consumption and softening of the brain, and the latter disease will soon reduce him to an idiot, and render him incapable of receiving instruction."

"You are convinced that the son of the tyrants will not recover?"

asked Petion, with a strained, eager glance.

"My careful examination of his case has convinced me that he has but a short time to live, and that he will spend the larger part of this time in an idiotic state. On this account Simon ought to be removed from the Temple, in order that his enemies may not be able to circulate a report about this zealous and worthy servant of the republic, that he is guilty of the death of little Capet--that Simon's method of bringing him up killed him. And besides, in order that the same charge should not be laid to the one and great republic, and it be accused of cruelty to a poor sick child, kindly attentions should be bestowed on him."