El Dorado Baroness Orczy (dark academia books to read .txt) đ
- Author: Baroness Orczy
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Citizen Robespierreâs neatly bewigged head soon appeared in one of these; his bosom friend St. Just was with him, and also his sister Charlotte. Danton, like a big, shaggy-coated lion, elbowed his way into the stalls, whilst Sauterre, the handsome butcher and idol of the people of Paris, was loudly acclaimed as his huge frame, gorgeously clad in the uniform of the National Guard, was sighted on one of the tiers above.
The public in the parterre and in the galleries whispered excitedly; the awe-inspiring names flew about hither and thither on the wings of the overheated air. Women craned their necks to catch sight of heads which mayhap on the morrow would roll into the gruesome basket at the foot of the guillotine.
In one of the tiny avant-scĂšne boxes two men had taken their seats long before the bulk of the audience had begun to assemble in the house. The inside of the box was in complete darkness, and the narrow opening which allowed but a sorry view of one side of the stage helped to conceal rather than display the occupants.
The younger one of these two men appeared to be something of a stranger in Paris, for as the public men and the well-known members of the Government began to arrive he often turned to his companion for information regarding these notorious personalities.
âTell me, de Batz,â he said, calling the otherâs attention to a group of men who had just entered the house, âthat creature there in the green coatâ âwith his hand up to his face nowâ âwho is he?â
âWhere? Which do you mean?â
âThere! He looks this way now, and he has a playbill in his hand. The man with the protruding chin and the convex forehead, a face like a marmoset, and eyes like a jackal. What?â
The other leaned over the edge of the box, and his small, restless eyes wandered over the now closely-packed auditorium.
âOh!â he said as soon as he recognised the face which his friend had pointed out to him, âthat is citizen Foucquier-Tinville.â
âThe Public Prosecutor?â
âHimself. And HĂ©ron is the man next to him.â
âHĂ©ron?â said the younger man interrogatively.
âYes. He is chief agent to the Committee of General Security now.â
âWhat does that mean?â
Both leaned back in their chairs, and their sombrely-clad figures were once more merged in the gloom of the narrow box. Instinctively, since the name of the Public Prosecutor had been mentioned between them, they had allowed their voices to sink to a whisper.
The older manâ âa stoutish, florid-looking individual, with small, keen eyes, and skin pitted with smallpoxâ âshrugged his shoulders at his friendâs question, and then said with an air of contemptuous indifference:
âIt means, my good St. Just, that these two men whom you see down there, calmly conning the programme of this eveningâs entertainment, and preparing to enjoy themselves tonight in the company of the late M. de MoliĂšre, are two hellhounds as powerful as they are cunning.â
âYes, yes,â said St. Just, and much against his will a slight shudder ran through his slim figure as he spoke. âFoucquier-Tinville I know; I know his cunning, and I know his powerâ âbut the other?â
âThe other?â retorted de Batz lightly. âHĂ©ron? Let me tell you, my friend, that even the might and lust of that damned Public Prosecutor pale before the power of HĂ©ron!â
âBut how? I do not understand.â
âAh! you have been in England so long, you lucky dog, and though no doubt the main plot of our hideous tragedy has reached your ken, you have no cognisance of the actors who play the principal parts on this arena flooded with blood and carpeted with hate. They come and go, these actors, my good St. Justâ âthey come and go. Marat is already the man of yesterday, Robespierre is the man of tomorrow. Today we still have Danton and Foucquier-Tinville; we still have PĂšre Duchesne, and your own good cousin Antoine St. Just, but HĂ©ron and his like are with us always.â
âSpies, of course?â
âSpies,â assented the other. âAnd what spies! Were you present at the sitting of the Assembly today?â
âI was. I heard the new decree which already has passed into law. Ah! I tell you, friend, that we do not let the grass grow under our feet these days. Robespierre wakes up one morning with a whim; by the afternoon that whim has become law, passed by a servile body of men too terrified to run counter to his will, fearful lest they be accused of moderation or of humanityâ âthe greatest crimes that can be committed nowadays.â
âBut Danton?â
âAh! Danton? He would wish to stem the tide that his own passions have let loose; to muzzle the raging beasts whose fangs he himself has sharpened. I told you that Danton is still the man of today; tomorrow he will be accused of moderation. Danton and moderation!â âye gods! Eh? Danton, who thought the guillotine too slow in its work, and armed thirty soldiers with swords, so that thirty heads might fall at one and the same time. Danton, friend, will perish tomorrow accused of treachery against the Revolution, of moderation towards her enemies; and curs like HĂ©ron will feast on the blood of lions like Danton and his crowd.â
He paused a moment, for he dared not raise his voice, and his whispers were being drowned by the noise in the auditorium. The curtain, timed to be raised at eight oâclock, was still down, though it was close on half-past, and the public was growing impatient. There was loud stamping of feet, and a few shrill whistles of disapproval proceeded from the gallery.
âIf HĂ©ron gets impatient,â said de Batz lightly, when the noise had momentarily subsided, âthe manager of this theatre and mayhap his leading actor and actress will spend an unpleasant day tomorrow.â
âAlways HĂ©ron!â said St. Just, with a contemptuous smile.
âYes, my friend,â rejoined the other imperturbably, âalways HĂ©ron. And he has even obtained a longer lease of existence this afternoon.â
âBy the new decree?â
âYes. The new decree. The agents of the Committee
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