Part 53 (1/2)

Strange sounds came from the stone walls along the street, where zouaves, turcos, and line soldiers, cursing and weeping with rage, were smas.h.i.+ng their rifles to pieces rather than surrender them. Artillerymen were spiking their guns, some ran them into the river, some hammered the mitrailleuses out of shape with pickaxes. The cavalry flung their sabres into the river, the cuira.s.siers threw away revolvers and helmets. Everywhere officers were breaking their swords and cursing the surrender.

The officers of the 74th of the Line threw their sabres and even their decorations into the Meuse. Everywhere, too, regiments were burning their colours and destroying their eagles; the colonel of the 52d of the Line himself burned his colours in the presence of all the officers of the regiment, in the centre of the street.

The 88th and 30th, the 68th, the 78th, and 74th regiments followed this example. ”Mort aux Vaches!” howled a herd of half-crazed reservists, bursting into the crush. ”Mort aux Prussiens! a la lanterne, Badinguet! Vive la Republique!”

Jack turned away from the window. The tall Sister of Mercy stood beside the bed where Lorraine lay.

Jack made a sign.

”She is asleep,” murmured the Sister; ”you may come nearer now.

Close the window.”

Before he could reach the bed the door was opened violently from without, and an officer entered swinging a lantern. He did not see Lorraine at first, but held the door open, saying to Jack: ”Pardon, monsieur; this house is reserved. I am very sorry to trouble you.”

Another officer entered, an old man, covered to the eyes by his crimson gold-brocaded cap. Two more followed.

”There is a sick person here,” said Jack. ”You cannot have the intention of turning her out! It is inhuman--”

He stopped short, stupefied at the sight of the old officer, who now stood bareheaded in the lantern-light, looking at the bed where Lorraine lay. It was the Emperor!--her father.

Slowly the Emperor advanced to the bed, his dreary eyes fixed on Lorraine's pale cheeks.

In the silence the cries from the street outside rose clear and distinct:

”Vive la Republique! a bas l'Empereur!”

The Emperor spoke, looking straight at Lorraine: ”Gentlemen, we cannot disturb a woman. Pray find another house.”

After a moment the officers began to back out, one by one, through the doorway. The Emperor still stood by the bed, his vague, inscrutable eyes fixed on Lorraine.

Jack moved towards the bed, trembling. The Emperor raised his colourless face.

”Monsieur--your sister? No--your wife?”

”My promised wife, sire,” muttered Jack, cold with fear.

”A child,” said the Emperor, softly.

With a vague gesture he stepped nearer, smoothed the coverlet, bent closer, and touched the sleeping girl's forehead with his lips. Then he stood up, gray-faced, impa.s.sive.

”I am an old man,” he said, as though to himself. He looked at Jack, who now came close to him, holding out something in one hand. It was the steel box.

”For me, monsieur?” asked the Emperor.

Jack nodded. He could not speak.

The Emperor took the box, still looking at Jack.

There was a moment's silence, then Jack spoke: ”It may be too late. It is a plan of a balloon--we brought it to you from Lorraine--”

The uproar in the streets drowned his voice--”Mort a l'Empereur!