tion from Louis, and about his plan of escape. She asked M. Gérome's advice. He looked grave. "I would do anything for him, you know, Cécile; but I fear he would not be safe here. I have the greatest difficulty in concealing your father. Last night we had to put him in an empty water-butt. For one or two nights Louis might be safe; but as soon as they find he has escaped, you may be sure thať, after searching your lodging, they will come to me next, and a thorough search they will make, I am certain." "But for one night-the night on which he escapes—you think he may come here, sir, if we can find no other safer place?" replied Cécile. 66 Certainly, if you cannot find a better. But be very cautious, Cécile; it is a very dangerous enterprise you are embarking in. Louis is running a terrible risk; still I fear what he says is quite true, that, when the troops make their way in to deliver us, the Commune will massacre all prisoners and hostages." "Yes, sir, we know the danger only too well; but into God's hands we have committed ourselves," said Cécile. "And the rope, sir,-have you one?" “No, you will have to buy one, and mind you are very careful to conceal it. If observed, it is sure to excite suspicion. Now, farewell, and may God prosper you in your generous but dangerous project!" Cécile had procured the ball of string; inside it she placed a little note, in which she urged Louis to be cautious, assuring him that she would do everything in her power to aid him in effecting his escape. When it was quite dark, accompanied as usual by Nero, she threaded a labyrinth of narrow streets, making a long détour in order to avoid observation. With a beating heart she stood below Louis' window. All was silent. She gave the signal. It was so dark that she could not see the window above her, much less if the slender thread was descending from it. She could only now and then pass her hands against the wall to feel for it. At last she grasped something; it was a small piece of wood with a paper wrapped round it. She hastily put it in her pocket, tied the ball of string round the worsted, said "Come along, Nero," and turned to leave the street. At the corner she met a National Guard, who gazed at her suspiciously, making some remark which she did not hear. Instead of going home, she crossed the Place St. Sulpice, turning towards the Luxemburg. She felt sure that she was followed; she hurried on, determined to go to the hospital, near the Pantheon, where Josephine worked as a nurse, and where she constantly went to assist. She reached it in safety; Josephine was there; she made a sign to her, which she understood, and slipping the note which she had received from Louis into her hand, she proceeded to occupy herself in another ward of the hospital. A few minutes after, the National Guard, who had been following her, arrived at the hospital. He asked to see a young woman who had entered it a few minutes before, and whose manner was suspicious. The authorities were obliged to submit, and Cécile was summoned. She was narrowly questioned, why she was out so late, where she lived, her name, &c., &c., and as her answers were not considered satisfactory by her interrogator, he ordered that she should be searched by a female, whom the Commune kept as a spy over the sisters and others, who served at the hospitals. As neither arms nor treasonable communication were found on Cécile, she was dismissed with a reprimand. She felt, however, that henceforth she would be watched with greater vigilance, and must be more cautious than ever, in her movements. She had to remain all night at the hospital, and as there were more wounded than usual, Josephine could not be spared. Poor Madame Laforce therefore, passed a night of agonizing suspense, fearing lest the whole plot had been discovered, and Louis and Cécile both carried off to the prison of Mazas. It was not till the evening of the following day, that all three met again in the Rue du Dragon, and were able to read Louis' last communication. Fortunate, indeed was it, that Cécile had succeeded in passing it on to Josephine, for it related to the rope, how thick it was to be, and how it was to be fastened to the string. Louis enjoined caution, and requested Cécile not to come for a night or two, as there was no telling whether she might not be watched. The first night which was at all wet or stormy, he would be on the watch for her, as the enterprise must not be delayed longer than was strictly necessary, or it might be too late. CHAPTER XXX. THE ESCAPE. Through the air rings shout and outcry-through the streets a red tide pours To the booming of the cannon the ancient city roars : Cry, Up the Red Republic!' and 'Up the guillotine !"--DR. NEALE. Two days had passed away. The agony of the Commune was becoming more and more apparent to all. Every day their defences were growing weaker ; at any hour the Versailles troops might be within the walls. But one more desperate effort was to be made by the Federals, and on Sunday night, 21st May, the tocsin sounded forth from all the church-towers, louder even than the incessant beating of drums, and the despairing appeal of the bugles. Men were seen everywhere hurrying through the streets, to join their battalions. Here might be heard the quick but heavy tramp of whole divisions on march; there a few cavalry galloped through the deserted boulevards; the roar of cannon was incessant. A crisis was evidently impending. Almost before sunrise, the Federal hosts returned, decimated, demoralized, black with powder, crying, "Treason, treason!" A whole battalion had been annihilated-such was the report. The wild tocsin still rang out its dreary knell; anxious groups filled the streets. The army of Versailles had entered the city by a large breach in the walls, near the Bois de Boulogne. Paris, with fear and trembling, awaited its deliverance, for who could tell what the desperate miscreants who held the city might not do, when driven to bay, and when they saw that all hope of success, must be abandoned? Proclamations from the Commune were issued at once. and covered the walls. "To the barricades! the enemy is within our walls! No hesitation! Forward for the Republic, for the Commune, and for Liberty! To arms!" The remnants of the battalions which had left in the night were returning a few isolated, gloomy, discouraged, terrified, confused figures. There was more than consternation on their faces, there was stupefaction. Many were unable to go far; they sank down upon the chairs of the cafés, upon the benches of the boulevards, and yet all pretended to have killed their man. Barrows and carts full of dead and wounded, literally in heaps, defiled through the streets. The shops were all closed, the streets deserted everywhere; the pavement was being pulled up, earth and stones—everything was made use of. National Guards were hurrying onward in silent ranks to the scene of the fighting, in the direction of Montrouge. "Barricades! barricades everywhere! Fortify the fifth arrondissement! The Pantheon is to be turned into a citadel! Barricades on all sides!" Thus, with pistols in their belts, drawn swords in their hands, bayonets on their rifles, excited couriers everywhere gave orders. The following decree was published by the Committee of Public Safety: 66 The blinds and shutters of all windows are to remain open. "Any house from which a single shot is fired, or any sort of aggression made upon the National Guard, will be burned immediately. "The National Guard is charged with the strict execution of this decree." |