Next morning he was called again, by many voices this time, but he could make no response at all.

"He is dead!" he heard someone say. "Let us break down the door!"

Forthwith, resounding blows rained on the barrier of his prison. When at length an entrance had been forced, several strange men entered.

"What a horrible place!" they all exclaimed, starting back in amazement and disgust at the filth and vile odours, and the rats and mice scampering off in all directions. The child lay on the bed nervously watching every movement, wondering what new horror this invasion boded.

The munic.i.p.als put to him many questions about himself, but he had neither the strength nor the courage to answer them. Most of them concluded that he had either become deaf and dumb, or had lost his mind during his confinement Presently one of them noticed his untouched meal of the day before still on the table.

"Why do you not eat?" he demanded. The boy raised himself on his arm with a great effort.

"Because I wish to die!" he answered quietly. Tears rose to the eyes of one or two of his questioners, and after a hasty consultation they all left the room, closing the door but not barring it. After a while it opened again, and the child awoke from an uneasy sleep to find a slight, thin, kindly-faced little man bending over him.

"I am Laurent," said the same gentle voice of the night before, "and I have come to take charge of you!" Some memory of the ungentle cobbler was aroused by the word "charge," and the boy shrank back nervously.

Laurent divined his thought.

"Do not be afraid!" he went on in the same quiet voice. "I am not like Simon, poor child!" and a kindly hand was laid on the matted hair. Still the boy made no response. He was too sick, too weak, too listless, to care very much what might happen to him now, and he only desired to be left in peace.

But Laurent had him moved from his loathsome cell, and placed on a cot in the clean, airy outer room. With the a.s.sistance of Caron the cook, he bathed the child in warm water, put on fresh clothes, and gently tried to comb the tangles from his matted hair. Then Louis was given a little fresh fruit to eat, and some milk, in place of the horrible fare on which he had lived for six months. After that Laurent left him to rest and sleep.

Words cannot paint the slowly growing amazement of Louis Charles at these changes. So long had he been left to cruel neglect that he could hardly yet comprehend how any kindness remained in the world. And six months of absolute silence had rendered him so unaccustomed to speech, that the good Laurent could not draw from him one word. Many a dumb grateful look had the child given him, but as yet his lips were silent.

When Laurent came back with his meal in a few hours, he stroked the boy's head awhile.

"Do you feel better, Monsieur Charles?" he inquired. Used as he was to being addressed as "Little Capet," "Wolf-Cub" or worse, the respect and civility in this long-unused t.i.tle was almost beyond belief! At length his tongue was unloosed.

"Yes, thank you, Monsieur!" he replied. And from that moment his heart went out to his new keeper. In a few days he was better. Kindness, care, decent food and the human society of some well-disposed person revived the flame of life that had all but flickered out in his long solitude.

Citizen Laurent was by no means a royalist. On the contrary, his sympathies were entirely with the Republic. But his heart was so touched by the desperate plight of the little captive, that he resolved to render his condition as comfortable as possible. This had also been Barras's wish in placing him as guardian to the royal prisoner. Laurent himself was closely watched by the jealous munic.i.p.als, and he could only be with the boy part of each day. Among other things, he decided that Louis Charles, to recover his health, must have exercise. So he sought, and finally obtained from Barras, permission to take him for an airing to the top of the Tower.

The little king could hardly believe his senses! He was going to see the sky again, to hear bird-voices, to smell the scent of growing things!

Too wonderful! Accompanied by Laurent and a guarding munic.i.p.al, they made the ascent of the closely sentinelled stairs. The child, still weak and inactive, could hardly drag himself up the steps, anxious as he was to reach the top, so Laurent took him in his arms.

It was a warm, delightful evening. The sun had scarcely set, and the birds were twittering their good-night in the trees beyond the Temple.

Up from the street came the calls of vendors, the shouts of drivers, and occasionally the gay laugh of some child at play. The little prince listened to it all and his eyes filled with tears of joy to think that at last he was permitted to breathe again the free air of heaven and see the blessed light, even though it hurt his eyes a great deal, used as they had been only to semi-darkness. Releasing Laurent's hand, he wandered around by himself for a few moments. Suddenly he bent down with a low cry of pleasure. "See! See!" he cried, pointing, and Laurent looked down noticing only a few poor half-withered common little yellow flowers growing in the cracks of the stone walk. But the boy was on his hands and knees, gathering them eagerly.

The short time of outing over, Laurent led him down, still clasping carefully the meagre little bouquet. At the door of the room on the third floor the boy stopped, pulling back at his keeper's hand with all his strength. Laurent understood! The boy wished to go in and see his mother whom he thought was still there. Poor child! He little knew that only his sister was shut up in that room. It pained Laurent to refuse him, but to grant the wish was not in his power.

"You are mistaking the door, Monsieur Charles!" he said gently.

"No, I am not mistaking it!" answered the boy, terribly disappointed, and he walked down languidly. At his own door Laurent noticed that the child no longer carried his cherished flowers. He was about to ask what had become of them when an instinct warned him to refrain. Louis Charles had dropped them, a withered but tender offering of love, at the door of his mother's room!

IN WHICH JEAN "FINDS CARON"

CHAPTER XIV

IN WHICH JEAN "FINDS CARON"

After the strange events of the last chapter, Jean went in and out freely, but he did not think it quite safe as yet, to return to the tavern of Pere Lefevre, till he could ascertain what had become of La Souris. A week later, Mere Clouet and Yvonne went to the Temple with the laundry, and returned with welcome news.

"Only think!" exclaimed Yvonne. "Barelle says that Citizen Coudert has not been seen since the Tenth Thermidor! As he was one of Robespierre's most trusted spies, he doubtless thought himself scarcely safe, for you know they are now imprisoning all who were connected with Robespierre.

He will probably remain in hiding for some time!"

So one day Jean returned to the tavern, in the hope of again taking up his duties as helper, and thus keeping in touch with the affairs of the little King. But Pere Lefevre had a surprise in store for him. He found to his intense chagrin, that his place had been usurped by a large, fat old woman, one Mother Matthieu, whose a.s.sistance Pere Lefevre declared he found more satisfactory than Jean's had ever been.

"She tends to her work, does Mother Matthieu!" insisted Pere Lefevre to the disappointed boy. "She does not sleep away half her time behind the counter, as you did, young monkey! And though she cannot whistle, and dance the Carmagnole on the tables, and she does indulge overmuch in snuff, she suits me better!" Jean turned away, discomfited, yet smiling in spite of himself, at the absurd fancy of waddling Mother Matthieu dancing the Carmagnole on the restaurant table! As he was leaving, he encountered at the door the burly form of a man hurrying into the tavern, and recognised Caron, the cook of the Temple Tower kitchen. Here was a stroke of good fortune, for had he not been told to "find Caron"!

And lately he had been racking his brains to think how this might be accomplished. But he did not wish outsiders to imagine that he had any business with the cook, so contented himself merely with a greeting.

"How now, stranger!" exclaimed the hearty Caron. "Never did I expect to see _you_ again! But I suppose you were pardoned out after the Tenth Thermidor. But has the Conciergerie given you such a taste for prisons that you must needs be always near one?" and he grasped Jean's hand warmly.

"I wanted to see if Pere Lefevre would take me back," explained the crestfallen boy, "for I must be earning money and I liked it here. But he will not have me."

"That's bad!" sympathised Caron. "But cheer up! There may be other things!" And he turned and went out at the boy's side. Once in the street, however, he grasped Jean's arm. "Were you ever told to _find me_?" he whispered.

"Indeed yes!" answered Jean. "De Batz! We were in prison and escaped together! 'Find Caron'! were his parting words!"

"I thought so!" said Caron. "He has already told me much of you, and how you have been, and will yet be, useful to us. It's lucky we met just now, for I'm seldom out, and you could not get at me in the Temple. Now I'm going to tell you something. It's just as well that Pere Lefevre won't take you back, for I have a position for you right in the Tower.

How would you like to be scullery-boy and a.s.sist me in the kitchen! I've lost my a.s.sistant, and have been doing all the grubbing work ever since.

It's not very good pay, only five francs a week,--but it is something.

Besides, the most important thing about it is that _you will be in the Temple Tower_!" Of course Jean could not imagine himself refusing such an offer, which was one beyond his greatest hopes.

"Oh, Citizen Caron, when can I come?" he exclaimed.

"Oh, I must first interview the Council, which will then appoint you if it sees fit. But never fear! I have considerable influence with those in authority, and I can almost certainly vouch that the place shall be yours. Come back in a week's time." That week seemed the longest Jean had ever spent, not even excepting the dreary days at the Conciergerie.

Promptly at the expiration of the time he sought Caron, who had agreed to meet him at Pere Lefevre's.

"It's all right!" said Caron as soon as they met. "I had some trouble at first, because you had once been 'suspected' and put in prison. But I a.s.sured them that it was without foundation, and was the work of that sneaking La Souris, who is himself in hiding to save his skin. They did not hesitate long, I can tell you! So come along with me now, and I'll show you the first things you will have to do."

Thus it was that Jean gained admission to the Temple Tower, that he became in fact a regular inmate, going home to the Rue de Lille only once a week. He soon made the acquaintance of Laurent, and was not long in discovering that kindly and humane as the King's new keeper was, he was not only a devoted Republican, but also strictly conscientious in discharging the duties the Republic had imposed on him, and would countenance no plans for his charge's escape.

Among Jean's duties was that of carrying up to the Tower room the captive's meals twice a day. At the door Laurent would relieve him of the tray, but he often caught sight of the boy in the room beyond. The first time this happened, Jean could scarcely believe that he saw correctly. This wan, emaciated, listless child the little king of his former acquaintance! Presently, however, he heard the clear sweet voice address some question to Laurent, and then he recognised it to be identical with that of the Dauphin in the Tuileries garden. But his heart went out all the more to this white shadow of his former rosy friend, and he consecrated himself anew to the wronged child's service.

Louis XVII did not recognise this new face at the door. In fact he took but slight notice of the faces about him now, and moreover, Jean had grown a foot taller and had developed wonderfully in the two years of the Prince's imprisonment. And just for the present Jean deemed it more advisable that Louis Charles should not recognise him.

Many times since he entered on his new employment did Jean beg Caron to tell him what was the latest plan for rescuing the imprisoned king. But Caron always put him off with this remark:

"Do not inquire yet, my lad. Things are not in a state where it is possible to explain the plans, but rest a.s.sured that you are to help, and the very fact of your having found me and obtained this position has all been counted on, and is a part of the scheme. You shall know more in time!" So Jean was obliged to possess his soul in patience.

When Laurent had been in the Tower about four months, he began to suffer from the same restraint that had finally conquered Simon,--he was wearied to death of his practical imprisonment. So he applied to the Convention for a colleague who should share his duties and relieve him at stated intervals. The Convention considered his request and at length appointed him a companion.

This colleague, Citizen Gomin by name, was a short, timid, quiet man of about forty, though he looked much older. He was not at all pleased at being a.s.signed to this duty, but he dared not refuse, lest he become an object of suspicion. For he was very moderate in his opinions, leaning neither to the Republican nor the Royalist side. And to be moderate in those days, was to be considered almost as bad as an out-and-out enemy of the Republic of France!

His heart, however, had long revolted at the unjust imprisonment of the royal children, and he won the little king's love immediately, by bringing him as a gift four potted plants, radiantly in bloom. The child was almost wild with delight at the sight of them. He kissed them, fondled them, examined each blossom separately, and then putting aside the three finest, he said to Gomin:

"Take these to my mother, please!" Poor Gomin gathered them up and carried them from the room without a word. And Louis Charles smiled to himself all that day, thinking of the pleasure he had given his mother.