El Dorado: An Adventure of the Scarlet Pimpernel, Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy [reading books for 7 year olds txt] 📗
- Author: Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy
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Madame Simon was clapping her hands, looking on the child with obvious pride, and a kind of rough maternal affection. Simon was gazing on Heron for approval, and the latter nodded his head, murmuring words of encouragement and of praise.
“Thy catechism now, Capet—thy catechism,” shouted Simon in a hoarse voice.
The boy stood at attention, cap on head, hands on his hips, legs wide apart, and feet firmly planted on the fleur-de-lys, the glory of his forefathers.
“Thy name?” queried Simon.
“Louis Capet,” replied the child in a clear, high-pitched voice.
“What art thou?”
“A citizen of the Republic of France.”
“What was thy father?”
“Louis Capet, ci-devant king, a tyrant who perished by the will of the people!”
“What was thy mother?”
“A ——”
De Batz involuntarily uttered a cry of horror. Whatever the man’s private character was, he had been born a gentleman, and his every instinct revolted against what he saw and heard. The scene had positively sickened him. He turned precipitately towards the door.
“How now, citizen?” queried the Committee’s agent with a sneer. “Are you not satisfied with what you see?”
“Mayhap the citizen would like to see Capet sitting in a golden chair,” interposed Simon the cobbler with a sneer, “and me and my wife kneeling and kissing his hand—what?”
“‘Tis the heat of the room,” stammered de Batz, who was fumbling with the lock of the door; “my head began to swim.”
“Spit on their accursed flag, then, like a good patriot, like Capet,” retorted Simon gruffly. “Here, Capet, my son,” he added, pulling the boy by the arm with a rough gesture, “get thee to bed; thou art quite drunk enough to satisfy any good Republican.”
By way of a caress he tweaked the boy’s ear and gave him a prod in the back with his bent knee. He was not wilfully unkind, for just now he was not angry with the lad; rather was he vastly amused with the effect Capet’s prayer and Capet’s recital of his catechism had had on the visitor.
As to the lad, the intensity of excitement in him was immediately followed by an overwhelming desire for sleep. Without any preliminary of undressing or of washing, he tumbled, just as he was, on to the sofa. Madame Simon, with quite pleasing solicitude, arranged a pillow under his head, and the very next moment the child was fast asleep.
“‘Tis well, citoyen Simon,” said Heron in his turn, going towards the door. “I’ll report favourably on you to the Committee of Public Security. As for the citoyenne, she had best be more careful,” he added, turning to the woman Simon with a snarl on his evil face. “There was no cause to arrange a pillow under the head of that vermin’s spawn. Many good patriots have no pillows to put under their heads. Take that pillow away; and I don’t like the shoes on the brat’s feet; sabots are quite good enough.”
Citoyenne Simon made no reply. Some sort of retort had apparently hovered on her lips, but had been checked, even before it was uttered, by a peremptory look from her husband. Simon the cobbler, snarling in speech but obsequious in manner, prepared to accompany the citizen agent to the door.
De Batz was taking a last look at the sleeping child; the uncrowned King of France was wrapped in a drunken sleep, with the last spoken insult upon his dead mother still hovering on his childish lips.
CHAPTER VIII. ARCADES AMBO
“That is the way we conduct our affairs, citizen,” said Heron gruffly, as he once more led his guest back into his office.
It was his turn to be complacent now. De Batz, for once in his life cowed by what he had seen, still wore a look of horror and disgust upon his florid face.
“What devils you all are!” he said at last.
“We are good patriots,” retorted Heron, “and the tyrant’s spawn leads but the life that hundreds of thousands of children led whilst his father oppressed the people. Nay! what am I saying? He leads a far better, far happier life. He gets plenty to eat and plenty of warm clothes. Thousands of innocent children, who have not the crimes of a despot father upon their conscience, have to starve whilst he grows fat.”
The leer in his face was so evil that once more de Batz felt that eerie feeling of terror creeping into his bones. Here were cruelty and bloodthirsty ferocity personified to their utmost extent. At thought of the Bourbons, or of all those whom he considered had been in the past the oppressors of the people, Heron was nothing but a wild and ravenous beast, hungering for revenge, longing to bury his talons and his fangs into the body of those whose heels had once pressed on his own neck.
And de Batz knew that even with millions or countless money at his command he could not purchase from this carnivorous brute the life and liberty of the son of King Louis. No amount of bribery would accomplish that; it would have to be ingenuity pitted against animal force, the wiliness of the fox against the power of the wolf.
Even now Heron was darting savagely suspicious looks upon him.
“I shall get rid of the Simons,” he said; “there’s something in that woman’s face which I don’t trust. They shall go within the next few hours, or as soon as I can lay my hands upon a better patriot than that mealy-mouthed cobbler. And it will be better not to have a woman about the place. Let me see—to-day is Thursday, or else Friday morning. By Sunday I’ll get those Simons out of the place. Methought I saw you ogling that woman,” he added, bringing his bony fist crashing down on the table so that papers, pen, and inkhorn rattled loudly; “and if I thought that you—”
De Batz thought it well at this point to finger once more nonchalantly the bundle of crisp paper in the pocket of his coat.
“Only on that one condition,” reiterated Heron in a hoarse voice; “if you try to get at Capet, I’ll drag you to the Tribunal with my own hands.”
“Always presuming that you can get me, my friend,” murmured de Batz, who was gradually regaining his accustomed composure.
Already his active mind was busily at work. One or two things which he had noted in connection with his visit to the Dauphin’s prison had struck him as possibly useful in his schemes. But he was disappointed that Heron was getting
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