TBEAI)p|H||l 
S.V/EIR MITCHELL c&he offclv entitled of 
cFzangoid 'Books kg 
5Dr. J©eir 
' 
HUGH WYNNE. 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS. 
HEPHZIBAH GUINNESS. 
IN WAR TIME. 
ROLAND BLAKE. 
FAR IN THE FOREST. 
CHARACTERISTICS. 
WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN. 
A MADEIRA PARTY. 
DOCTOR AND PATIENT. 
WEAR AND TEAR—HINTS FOR THE 
OVERWORKED. 
COLLECTED POEMS. ‘•THE NETS WEEK HUNG OVEE FEANCOISS SHOOLDEES.” (See page 18.) SPECIAL LIMITED EDITION 
Che of 
Cl 
Cjlancotd 
foundling, ‘Chief, Sugg let, and fencing- 
cffloadtez dazing the cfzench EPhevolation 
€By 
<gf, cWSitcheLLt &Vo.2). 
<MJo, 2). cfBazvazd and Sdinbuzyk 
clJozk 
ofnteznational eBook and 
tJoublidking (oompany 
1899 This volume is issued for sale in 
paper covers only 
Copyright, 1897, 1898, by 
The Centuby Co. 
The DeVinne Press. TO 
PHILIP SCHUYLER 
IN RECOGNITION OF 
A CONSTANT FRIENDSHIP CONTENTS 
I 
PAGE 
Of how Francois the foundling was cared for by the good 
fathers of the Benedictine Asylum for Orphans, and of 
what manner of lad he was 1 
II 
In which Francois becomes a choir-boy, and serves two 
masters, to the impairment of his moral sense . . 5 
III 
Of the misfortunes caused by loss of a voice, and of how a 
cat and a damsel got Francois into trouble — whereupon, 
preferring the world to a monastery, he ran away from 
the choristers of Notre Dame 13 
IV 
Of how the world used Francois, and of the reward of virtue. 
He makes his first friend 19 
Y 
Of the immorality which may come of an empty stomach, 
and of how Francois became acquainted with a human 
crab 27 
VII VIII 
CONTENTS 
VI 
PAGE 
Of how Fran£ois regained a lost friend, and of his adventure 
with the poet Horace and another gentleman . . .32 
VII 
Wherein is told how Fran§ois saved a man’s neck and 
learned to juggle 47 
VIII 
In which Francois discovers the mercantile value of 
laughter, and the Crab takes toll of the jugglers — with 
the sad history of Despard, the partner . . . .57 
IX 
In which Francois tells the fortune of the Marquis de Ste. 
Luce and of Robespierre, and has his own fortune told, 
and of how Despard saw a man of whom he was afraid . 65 
X 
How Pierre became a Jacobin and how a nation became 
insane 80 
XI 
The juggling firm of Despard, Francois & Co. is broken up 
—Despard goes into politics, and Francois becomes a 
fencing-master 84 
XII 
In which Toto is seen to change his politics twice a day — 
the mornings and the afternoons quarrel—In which Jean 
Pierre An dr 6 Amar, “ le farouche,” appears . . . 103 CONTENTS 
IX 
XIII 
PAGE 
Citizen Amar, meeting the marquis, is unlucky and vindic- 
tive . 117 
XIV 
Frangois escapes from Paris and goes in search of a father. 
He meets a man who has a wart on his nose, and who be- 
cause of this is unlucky 136 
XV 
How Frangois finds Despard and has a lesson in politics, 
and of what came of it 151 
XVI 
How Frangois warns the Marquis de Ste. Luce, and of the 
battle on the staircase between the old day and the new . 166 
XVII 
Of how Frangois, escaping, lives in the wood; of how he 
sees the daughter of the marquis dying, and knows not 
then, or ever after, what it was that hurt him; of how he 
becomes homesick for Paris 179 
XVIII 
Wherein is told how Frangois reenters Paris, and lodges 
with the Crab; and of how Toto is near to death by the 
guillotine. Frangois meets Despard and the marquis, 
who warns him and is warned 190 
XIX 
Of the sorrowful life of loneliness, of Frangois’s arrest, and 
of those he met in prison 215 X 
CONTENTS 
XX 
PAGE 
Of how Francois gave Amar advice, and of how the marquis 
bought his own head 225 
XXI 
How Francois, having made a bargain with Citizen Amar, 
cannot keep it with the man of the wart — How Despard 
dies in the place of the marquis — Of Fran§ois’s escape 
from prison 240 
XXII 
Wherein is told how Francois baits a crab-trap with the 
man of the wart 258 
XXIII 
Of how Francois found lodgings where he paid no rent — 
Of the death of Toto — Of how his master, having no 
friends on the earth, finds them underground . . 277 
XXIV 
Of how Francois got into good society underground—Of 
what he saw, and of the value of a cat’s eyes — From 
darkness to light — Of how Francois made friends for life 287 
EPILOGUE 
Wherein is some further account of Francois and of those 
who helped him 312 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
The Nets were Hung oyer Francis's Shoulders Frontispiece 
PAGE 
Francois and Toto in the Luxembourg . . .37 
Pierre Taught Francois to Juggle with Balls . . 53 
’T is a Gargoyle Come Down prom the Roof op St. 
Jacques 67 
He Paid in Advance the Customary Denier 1 Dieu . 87 
And so a Dog is Sent to Fetch the Safeguard the 
People Provide 113 
He Staggered to Left, to Right, and at last Tum- 
bled in a Heap 131 
He Held his Way along the Highroad . . . .139 
The Wanderer Tapped on the Pane .... 181 
He Saw a White Face on the Pillow .... 187 
Quatre Pattes • . . 195 
Death to Royal Rats ! 207 
Amar Considered this Novel Specimen op Humanity. 229 
He Pulled the Bell at No. 33 Bis 269 
“ The Little Trap did Work,” cried Francois, behind 
his Screen 273 
XI THE ADVENTUEES OF FEANgOIS THE ADVENTURES OE FRANQOIS 
FOUNDLING, THIEF, JUGGLER, AND FENCING-MASTER 
DURING THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 
I 
Of how Francois the foundling was cared for by the 
good fathers of the Benedictine Asylum for Orphans, 
and of what manner of lad he was. 
the summer of the year 1777 a lad of 
mTW a^ ten years, clad in a suit of gray, 
||£ was playing in the high-walled garden of 
Benedictine Asylum for Orphans in 
Paris. The sun was pleasant, the birds 
sang overhead, the roses were many, for the month 
was June. A hundred lads were noisily running 
about. They had the look of being well fed, decently 
clothed, and kindly cared for. An old priest walked 
to and fro, at times looking up from his breviary to 
say a pleasant word or to check some threatening 
quarrel. 
Presently he paused beside the boy who was at the 
moment intently watching a bird on a branch over- 2 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
head. As the priest turned, the boy had thrown him- 
self on the grass and was laughing heartily. 
“ What amuses thee, my son ? ” said the father. 
“ I am laughing at the birds.” 
“ And why do they make thee laugh, Francois ? ” 
“ I do not know.” 
“And I,” said the priest, “do not know why the 
birds sing, nor why thou dost laugh. Thou hast a 
talent that way. The good God grant thee always 
cause”} and with his eyes on his breviary, and his 
lips moving in prayer, he walked away. 
The lad fell back again on the grass, and laughed 
anew, as if overcome with some jest he shared with 
no one but the birds overhead. This was a kindly 
little waif brought hither from the Enfants Trouves, 
nameless except for the card pinned on the basket 
in which he lay when the unknown mother left him, 
a red-faced baby, to the charity of asylum life. 
His constant mirthfulness was a sad cross to some 
of the good fathers, for neither punishment, fast, nor 
penance got the better of this gaiety, nor served to 
repress its instinctive expression. He had, too,— 
what is rare in childhood,— quick powers of ob- 
servation, and a certain joy in the world of nature, 
liking to lie on his back and watch the birds at work, 
or pleased to note the daily changes of flowers or the 
puzzling journeys of the ants which had their crowded 
homes beneath the lilacs in undisturbed corners of 
the garden. His nearest mother, Nature, meant the 
boy to be one of those rare beings who find happi- 
ness in the use of keen senses and in a wakeful 
mind, which might have been trained to employ its THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
3 
powers for the partial conquest of some of her many 
kingdoms. But no friendly hand was here to guide, 
no example present to incite or lift him. The simple 
diet provided for the intellect of these little ones was 
like the diet of their table — the same for one and 
for all. 
His head was high, his face long; all his features 
were of nnnsnal size, the mouth and ears of dispro- 
portionate magnitude ; altogether, a quaint face, not 
quite of to-day, a something Gothic and medieval in 
its general expression. 
The dull round of matins and vespers, the routine 
of lessons, the silent refectory meals, went on year 
after year with little variation. The boy Francois 
simply accepted them as did the rest; but, unlike 
some of his comrades, he found food for mirth, silent, 
gentle, or boisterous, where no other saw cause for 
amusement. 
Once a week a sober line of gray-clad boys, with 
here and there a watchful priest, filed through the 
gay streets to mass at St. Eustache or Notre Dame. 
He learned, as he grew, to value these chances, and 
to look forward with eager anticipation to what they 
brought him. During these walks the quick-minded 
Francis saw and heard a hundred things which 
aroused his curiosity. The broad gardens of the Lux- 
embourg, the young fellows at unrestricted play, the 
river and the boats, by degrees filled him with keen 
desire to see more of this outer world, and to have 
easy freedom to roam at will. It was the first flutter 
of wings longing for natural flight. Before they set 
out on these journeys, a good father at the great 4 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
gateway said to them as they went by: “ Look neither 
to the right nor to the left, my children. ’T is a day 
of prayer. Remember! ” Alas! what eyes so busy 
as those of Francis ? “ Look at this — at that,” he 
would cry to the lads close to him. “ Be quiet, there ! ” 
said the priests’ low voices; and on this Francis’s 
droll face would begin to express the unspoken de- 
light he found in the outer world of men and things. 
This naughty outside world kept calling him to share 
its liberty. The boy liked best the choir, where his 
was the most promising voice. Here was happiness 
such as the use of dexterous hands or observant eyes 
also gave him. Religion was to him largely a matter 
of formal service. But in this, as in secular educa- 
tion, the individuality of the creature may not be set 
aside without risk of disaster. For all alike there 
was the same dull round, the same instruction. 
Nevertheless, the vast influence of these repeated 
services, and of the constant catechism, he continued 
to feel to his latest day. 
He was emotional and imaginative, fond of color, 
and sensitive to music ; but the higher lessons of the 
church, which should control the life of action, were 
without effect on a character which was naturally one 
of exceptional levity. Such a mind has small power 
to apply to the conduct of life the mere rules laid 
down for its guidance, and is apt to accept as per- 
sonally useful only what comes from the lessons of 
experience. II 
In which Frangois becomes a choir-boy, and serves two 
masters, to the impairment of his moral sense. 
f||g|S|ppSiE was about fourteen, and the best of 
the choir, when a great change took 
If I jC? ace *n e- was sent? with 
a dozen others, to the vestry of Notre 
Dame, and there carefully tested as to 
the power and quality of his voice. The masters of 
the choir were exacting, but, to his great delight, he 
was thought the best of the four who were finally 
selected to fill vacancies among the boy choristers of 
the cathedral. This came about in the autumn of 
the year 1781. 
The next day he received a long lecture on how he 
should behave himself; and thus morally provided, 
was sent, with his small belongings in a bag, to the 
house of certain of the choir-masters who lived in the 
Rue des Chanteurs. One of the priests who escorted 
the four boys stood at the door of the house of the 
choir, and saying good-by to them as they went in, 
bade them come, if they might, and visit their old 
home; and so, with a benediction, sent them forth 
into a larger world. 
5 6 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
It was not much larger, nor was it as agreeable. 
When the good father left them, one Tomas, who 
was steward of the choir-house, took the lads in 
charge. 
“ Up with ye, singing-birds ! ” he cried; “ up ! up ! ” 
And this at each story: “ It will soon be your best 
chance of heaven; up! up!” until they reached a 
large attic under the tiles. 
It was a dismal place, and hospitable to every 
wind that blew. Each of twelve choir-boys had a 
straw mattress on the floor, and pegs where hung his 
clothes and the white surplice he wore during ser- 
vice. The four newcomers took possession, and were 
soon informed by Tomas of their duties. They must 
be up at five to sing before breakfast with the second 
chanter. 
“ Before breakfast! ” cried one of the recruits. 
“ Little animal! ” said Tomas. “ Before thou dost 
eat there is room to fill thy chest; but after, what 
boy hath room? Breakfast at six and a half; at 
seven a lesson. Thou wilt intone with P&re Lalatte.” 
Thus the day was to be filled; for here were les- 
sons a-plenty in Latin, and all must learn to read and 
to write, for they might be priests some blessed day. 
Francis reflected as Tomas packed the hours with 
this and that as one packs a bag. He made his 
face as grave as nature would let it be, and said 
it was very nice, and that he liked to sing. Was 
there anything else ? Tomas replied that this first 
day they might ask questions, but that after that he 
(Tomas) had only one answer, because to have only 
one saved thinking. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
7 
This amused Francois, who was prematurely capa- 
ble of seeing the fun of things. 
When a duller boy who did not apprehend asked 
to know more he received an illustration in the form 
of a smart smack, which proved convincingly in- 
structive, and silenced all but Francis, who asked, 
“Please, monsieur, when may we play?” and “Is 
there anything more?” 
Tomas replied that there was a free hour before 
supper, and a little while somewhere about noon in 
the garden; also, they must wait on table; and oh, 
he forgot the prayers; and then went on to complete 
the packing of the day with various small duties in 
the nature of attentions to the comfort of Tomas. 
With some last words as to the time of the next 
meal, the steward left them. 
The lads, silent and anxious, arranged their small 
possessions. A little goldfinch in a wicker cage was 
Francis’s most valued property; he had taught it 
many pretty tricks, and now he had been allowed to 
bring it with him. Francis put the cage on the 
window-ledge, and fed his brightly tinted bird from 
a small store of millet with which he had filled his 
pocket. Then he looked out to see what prospect 
the view from the attic afforded. 
The home of the master-choristers was an ancient 
house of the days of Henri IV, and leaned so far 
over that as the boy looked out he had a sudden fear 
lest it should be about to tumble. The street was 
not more than twelve feet wide. The opposite dwell- 
ings were a full story below the attic from which the 
boy looked. The nearest house across the way had 8 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
an ancient stoop. Others bent back from the line of 
the street, and the open windows gave them a look of 
yawning weariness which set the boy to gaping in 
sympathy. 
Above was a mottled wilderness of discolored tiles, 
chimney-pots, and here and there gray corner turrets 
with vanes which seemed to entertain diverse views 
as to the direction whence the wind blew. Below 
was the sunless well of the street. As he gazed he 
saw the broad hats of priests hiding the figures be- 
neath them. It interested the boy. It was new and 
strange. He was too intent to notice that all but he 
had gone, obedient to an order of Tomas. 
A woman at a window over the way let fall a skirt 
she had been drying. It sailed to and fro, and fell 
on the head of a reflective abb6. The boy broke into 
laughter. A cat climbed on to a chimney-pot, and 
was met by a gust of smoke from the flue beside it. 
She scrambled off, sneezing. 
“ What fun!” cried the boy, and laughed again. 
“Little beast!” shouted Tomas. “Must I come 
for thee ? ’T is not permitted to laugh, It is forbid 
to laugh. It spoils the voice ”— a queer notion 
which, to his sorrow, the boy found to prevail in the 
house of the choristers. 
“ How can that be ? ” said Francis, boldly. 
The man gave him to understand that he was to 
obey his betters without answering, and then, taking 
the cage from the window, said: “ Come — quick, 
too! Thou art late for the dinner, and must do 
without it. There is a singing-lesson. Off with 
thee! ” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
9 
He was leaving the room when, suddenly, a strange 
fury of anger came on the boy. He snatched the 
cage from the man’s hand, crying, “ My bird! It is 
my bird!n 
Tomas caught him, and began to administer a 
smart cuffing; but the lad was vigorous and of feline 
agility. He used nails, teeth, and feet. Then, of a 
sudden, he ceased to struggle, and fell on a mattress 
in an agony of tears. The man had set his foot on 
the fallen cage, crying: 
“ I will teach thee a lesson, little animal! ” 
There lay in the crushed cage the dead bird, still 
quivering, a shapeless mass of green and yellow with 
a splotch of red. It was the first lesson of that 
larger world toward which the foundling had been 
so joyfully looking. 
He made no further resistance to the discipline 
which followed. Then came a dark cell and bread 
and water for a weary day, and much profit in the 
way of experience. It was a gentle home he had 
left. He had known there no unkindness, nor had 
he ever so sinned as to suffer more than some mild 
punishment. The new life was hard, the diet spare. 
As the winter came on, the attic proved to be cold. 
The winds came in from the tiles above and through 
the shrunken window-frames. Once within, they 
seemed to stay and to wander in chilly gusts. The 
dark suits worn by the choir-boys were none too 
warm. If the white surplice were clean, little more 
was asked in that direction. There were long ser- 
vices twice a day at the great cathedral near by, and 
three hours of practice under the eye of a junior 10 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
chorister. The hoys were abed at eight, and up at 
five; and for play, there were two uncertain hours 
— after the noon meal and at seven in the evening — 
when they were free to move about a small court 
behind the house, or to rest, if they pleased, in the 
attic. Four days in the week there were lessons in 
Latin and in reading and writing. Assuredly the 
devil had little of the chance which idle hours are 
presumed to give. But this fallen angel has also 
the industry of the minute, and knows how to profit 
by the many chances of life. He provided sugges- 
tive lessons in the habits of the choristers who dwelt 
in the stories above the wine-shop on the first floor. 
Sounds of gay carouses reached the small garret saints 
at night, and gay voices were heard which had other 
than masculine notes. At meal-times the choir-boys 
waited on their masters, and fetched their food from 
the kitchen. The lads soon learned to take toll on 
the way, and to comfort their shrunken stomachs 
with a modest share of the diet of their betters. 
u Little rats ! ” said Tomas the steward, “ you will 
squeal in purgatory for this; and’t were better to 
give you a dose of it here.” And so certain of the 
rats, on account of temporary excess of feed, were 
given none for a day, and left in a cold cellar to such 
moral aids as reflection might fetch. 
Framjois sat with his comrades of mishap in the 
gloom, and devised new ways of procuring food and 
concealing their thefts. 
“ Rats we are,” said Fran<jois, gaily; “ and rats had 
need be smart; and who ever heard that the don Dieu 
sent rats to purgatory?” Then he hatched queer THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
11 
stories to keep up the spirits of the too penitent,* 
and whether full or empty, cold or warm, took all 
that came with perpetual solace of good-humored 
laughter. It was not in him to bear malice. The 
choir-masters liked him, and with the boys he was 
the leader. 
Most of the dozen choir-boys were dull fellows; 
but this sharp-witted Francois was of other make, 
and found in the table-talk of the choristers, and of 
the cures who came now and then to share their 
ample fare, food for such thoughts as a boy thinks. 
He soon learned, as he grew older, how difficult is 
complete sin; how many outlets there are for him 
who, being penitent, desires to create new oppor- 
tunities for penitence. Francis was fast forming 
his character. He had small need to look for ex- 
cuses, and a meager talent for regret. When his 
stomach was full he was good, and when it was 
empty he must, as he said in after years, “fill it to 
squeeze out Satan.” 
There were singular books about, and for his edu- 
cation, now that he read Latin fairly well, a manual 
on confession. It was not meant for half-fed choir- 
boys. More fascinating were the confessions of one 
Rousseau —• a highly educative book for a clever boy 
of sixteen. At this age Francois was a long-legged, 
active fellow, a keen-witted domestic brigand, expert 
in providing for his wants, and eagerly desirous of 
seeing more of the outside world, of the ways of 
which he was so ignorant. The procession of closely 
watched boys went to church and back again to the 
old house at least once a day, and this was his only 12 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
glimpse of the entertaining life of the streets. When 
left to himself, he liked best in good weather to sit 
at the open attic window and watch the cats on the 
roofs across the way. So near were the houses that 
he could toss a bone or a crust on to the roof oppo- 
site, and delight to see these Ishmaelites contend for 
the prize. He grew to know them, so that they 
would come at dusk to the roof-edge, and contem- 
plate dietetic possibilities with eager and luminous 
eyes. Being versed in the Bible, as all good choir- 
boys should be, he found names for his feline friends 
which fitted their qualities; for there, among the chim- 
neys, was a small world of stirring life which no man 
disturbed. He saw battles, jealousies, greediness, and 
loves. Constancy was not there. Solomon of the 
many wives was king of the tiles; a demure blue cat 
was Susannah, for good reasons; and there, too, were 
the elders. It might have seemed to some pitiful 
angel a sad picture — this poor lad in the grasp of 
temptations, but made for better chances, finding his 
utmost joy in the distant company of these lean Arabs 
of the desert housetops. Ill 
Of the misfortunes caused by loss of a voice, and of how 
a cat and a damsel got Frangois into trouble — where- 
upon, preferring the world to a monastery, he ran 
away from the choristers of Notre Dame. 
was in the month of June, in the year 
|J|j I 1784, that a female got him into trouble, 
I as' and aided to bring about a decision as 
jffUlx.. -rfrajK future. This was, however, only 
one of the distressing incidents which 
at the time affected his career, and was not his final 
experience of the perils to which attention to the 
other sex may expose the unwary. A few days be- 
fore the sad event which brought about a change in 
Francois’s life, he was engaged in singing one of the 
noble Gregorian chants. Never had he used his voice 
with greater satisfaction. He was always pleased 
and eagerly ambitions when in the choir, and was 
then at his best. This day it seemed to him, as he 
sang, that his clear tones rose like a bird, and that 
something of him was soaring high among the reso- 
nant arches overhead. Of a sudden his voice broke 
into a shrill squeak. The choir-master shook a finger 
at him, and he fell into a dead silence, and sang no 
13 14 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
more that morning. The little white-robed proces- 
sion marched out, and when it reached the gray old 
house there was wrath and consternation over the 
broken treble. He was blamed and beaten; but, after 
all, it was a too likely misfortune. If it chanced again 
he must go to the Dominican convent at Auteuil, and 
perhaps in a year or two would be lucky enough to get 
back his voice. Meanwhile let him take care. Poor 
Francis did his best; but a week later, amid the 
solemnity of a mass for the dead, came once more 
that fatal break in the voice. He knew that his fate 
was sealed. 
Little was said this time, but he overheard the 
head of the choir arranging with Tomas the steward 
that the boy should go to Auteuil. Until then he was 
no longer to serve in the choir. 
Francis had seen all this occur before, when, as 
was common, some little singer lost control of his 
changing voice. His case was hopeless. Yet here 
was an idle time and no more singing-lessons. But 
a part of the small joys of a life not rich in happy 
moments was gone, to come back no more, as he knew 
too well. Of late his fine quality of song had won 
him some indulgence, and he had learned how much 
a fine voice might mean. Dim visions began to open 
before him, as he heard of how choir-boys had con- 
quered fame and wealth in France or elsewhere. One 
day the leader of the choir had praised him and his 
diligence, and hoped he would never leave them. He 
was told what a great possession was a voice like his, 
and had even been envied by the less gifted. Now 
this possession was taken from him, and he was at THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
15 
once made sadly aware of his loss. His vanity, al- 
ways great, was wounded to the quick. A little 
kindness would have led him to go to the convent 
and hopefully bide his time; but nobody cared, or 
seemed to care, for him, or to pity what to his active 
imagination was a fatal wreck of goodly chances. 
For a day or two he went about disconsolate, and 
was set to serve in the kitchen or to wait on the man 
Tomas, who jeered at his squeaky voice, and called 
him “little pig,” with additions of some coarser 
amenities of language, and certain information as 
to the convent life of a lay servant ill calculated to 
make Auteuil appear desirable. 
In his leisure hours, which now were many, Fran- 
cois took refuge from the jests of his fellows in the 
lonely garret. The people across the way in their 
rooms amused him. The cats were never long ab- 
sent. He watched their cunning search for the nests 
of the sparrows, and very soon began to feel again 
the invincible lifting power of his comic nature. 
Some remembrance of the alarm in the choir-master’s 
face when his voice broke came upon Francois, and 
he began to laugh. Just then he saw Solomon on 
the roof opposite. The master of a populous harem 
was in the company of the two naughty elders. Su- 
sannah, behind a chimney, was making her modest 
toilet with a skilful tongue. He called her, and held 
up a tempting bone. The shy maiden hesitated. 
He called, “ Suzanne, Suzanne ! ” to bring her to the 
edge of the tiled roof and near enough to make sure 
that the elders would not capture her desired prize. 
As he called, a little grisette who was hanging out 16 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
clothes to dry kissed her hand to the boy. Francis 
had seen her before. She was not attractive. He 
liked his cats better. “ Suzanne, Suzanne! ” he 
called, as the virgin, looking about her, daintily 
picked her way to the edge. High on the roof-top, 
Solomon exhorted the elders, and in a moment backs 
were humped, and claws out, and there was bad lan- 
guage used, which may have been Hebrew, but at all 
events appeared to be sufficiently expressive 5 for 
the elders and Solomon, of a sudden rolling over in a 
wild scuffle, disappeared on the farther side of the roof. 
This was the maid’s opportunity, and gratefully lick- 
ing her anticipative chops, she crawled to the gutter. 
“ Bonne Suzanne ! Viens done! Come, come, Su- 
zanne ! ” cried the boy. 
Of a sudden a smart box on the ear broke up this 
pretty love-affair. There stood Tomas. 
“ A nice choir-boy! Talking with that beast of a 
grisette ! ” Then there were more liberal whacks as 
the boy, in a rage, was dragged away, and bidden to 
come down-stairs and carry to market the nets used 
in place of baskets. Tomas usually went alone to 
buy provisions, but now the choir-boy was free and 
could be made of use. 
Francis uttered no complaint. It was literally 
the only time he had had a chance to be in the 
streets, except as part of the procession to and from 
the church. He was sore, angry, and resentful of the 
ill usage which in the last few days had taken the 
place of the growing respect his talent had created. 
He took the nets and his cap, and followed Tomas. 
u What a chance! ” he thought to himself. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
17 
The boy concealed the delight he felt, and followed 
the steward, who went down to the river and across 
it to the open market on the farther bank. He 
stopped here and there to buy provisions and to chat 
with the market-women. When one of them, pleased 
with the odd-looking lad, gave him an apple, Tomas 
took it from him. Francois laughed, which seemed 
always to offend the saturnine steward. He could 
not destroy the pleasure of the gay market for Fran- 
9ois, who made queer faces at the mistresses of the 
stalls, teased the dogs and cats for sale in cages, and 
generally made himself happy until they came home 
again. 
But from this time onward, except for these ex- 
cursions, his life was made miserable enough. He 
was the slave of Tomas, and was cruelly reminded 
day after day of the misery of him who has a servant 
for his master. 
At last he learned that the time was near when he 
must go to Auteuil. His voice had been tested again, 
and he had been told that there was small hope of its 
return. He began to think of escape. Once he was 
sent alone on an errand to a shop near by. He 
lingered to see some street-jugglers, and paid for it 
with a day in a damp cellar. Within this sad home 
he now found only reproaches and unthanked labor. 
The choristers laughed at him, and the happier boys 
mocked his changed voice. On the day after his last 
experience of the cellar, he was told by Tomas to be 
ready to go to Auteuil, and was ordered once again 
to follow the steward to market. He took up the 
nets and went after him. The lad looked back at 18 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
the choir-house. He meant to see it no more. He 
was now seventeen, and in the three years of his stay 
had learned many things, some good and some had. 
They went past Notre Dame to the quai, and 
through rows of stalls along the shores of the Seine. 
Tomas soon filled the nets, which were hung over 
Francois’s shoulders. Meanwhile the chattering 
women, the birds and cages, the flowers, the moving, 
many-colored crowd, amused or pleased the boy, but 
by no means turned him from his purpose. 
“Come!” cried Tomas, and began to elbow his 
way through the noisy people on the river-bank. 
Presently Francois got behind him, and noting his 
chances with a ready eye, slipped through between 
the booths and darted up the Seine. IV 
Of how the world used Frangois, and of the reward of 
virtue. Re makes his first friend. 
HHEN Tomas, having won his way out of 
the press about a fortune-teller, looked 
for Francis, there was a lost choir-boy 
and two days’ diet gone none knew 
whither — least of all the fugitive. He 
moved away with the speed of fear, and was soon in 
the somber network of narrow streets which in those 
days made a part of the lie de la Cite the refuge of the 
finest assortment of thieves, bravos, gypsies, and low 
women to be found in any capital of Europe. 
His seared looks and decent black suit betrayed 
him. An old fellow issued from a doorway like a 
spider. “ Ha, ha, little thief! ” he said; “ I will buy 
thy plunder.” 
Francis was well pleased. He took eagerly the 
ten sous offered, and saw the spider poke a long red 
beak into the loaded nets as he passed out of sight 
in the dark doorway. Francois looked at the money. 
It was the first he had ever owned. He walked 
away in haste, happy to be free, and so over a bridge 
to the lie St. Louis, with its pretty gardens and the 
19 20 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
palaces of the great nobles. At the far end of the 
isle he sat down in the sun and watched the red 
barges go by, and took no more care for to-morrow 
than does a moth just out of its cocoon. He caught 
up the song of a man near by who was mending a 
bateau. He whistled as he cast stones into the water. 
It was June, and warm, and before him the river 
playing with the sunset gold, and behind him the 
dull roar of Paris. Ah, the pleasure to do as he 
would! Why had he waited so long! 
Toward night he wandered back into the Cite, and 
saw an old woman selling fried potatoes, and crying, 
11 Two sous, two sous! ” He asked for thus much, 
and received them in the top of his cap. The hag 
took his ten-sou piece, and told him to begone. 
Amazed at this bit of villainy, poor Francis en- 
treated her to give him his change. She called him 
a thief, and when a dreadful man sallied out of a 
wine-shop and made murderous threats, the boy ran 
as fast as he could go, and never ceased until he got 
to the river again. There, like Suzanne, he kept 
watch for the foes of property, and at last ate his 
potatoes, and began to reflect on this last lesson in 
morality. He had stolen many morsels, many din- 
ners, and his fair share of wine; but to be himself 
robbed of his entire means was calculated to enlarge 
his views of what is possible in life, and also unde- 
sirable. The night was warm; he slept well in an 
abandoned barge, but woke up early to feel that lib- 
erty had its drawbacks, and that emptiness of stomach 
was one of the large family of needs which stimulate 
the ingenuity of man or boy. THE ADVENTUEES OF FEANQOIS 
21 
Quite at a loss, lie wandered once more through 
the slums of the Cite, and soon lost himself in the 
network of narrow streets to the north of the cathe- 
dral, hearing, as he went, strange slang, which his 
namesake Francis Villon would have better under- 
stood than he. The filth of the roadways and that 
of the tongue were here comparable. Some boys, 
seeing his sober suit of the dark cloth worn by the 
choir, pelted him with stones. He ran for his life, 
and falling over a man who was sawing wood, re- 
ceived a kick for remembrance. Far away he paused 
breathless in a dark lane which seemed unpeopled, 
and where the houses leaned over like palsied old 
scoundrels who whisper to one another of ancient 
crime. Even to a boy the place was of a sudden 
terrible. There was murder in the air. 
He felt, without knowing why, the danger of the 
place. A painted creature, half clad, came out of a 
house — a base animal whom the accident of sex had 
made a woman. She called to him to come in. He 
turned and went by her in haste and horror. A man 
in a red shirt ran toward him, crying out some or- 
dures of speech. As he fled there was a sudden 
peopling of window and doorway with half-naked 
drunken men and women. He had never before seen 
such faces. He was in that pit of crime and bestiality 
which before long was to overflow and riot in a lim- 
itless debauch of blood. The boy's long legs served 
him well. He dodged and ran this way and that. 
At the mouth of the cul-de-sac a lank boy caught him 
by the arm. Francis struck him fiercely, and with 
a sense of joy in the competence of the first blow he 22 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
had ever given one of his own years, he fled again; 
nor did he pause until, free from foes, he stood pant- 
ing in the open sunshine below the great buttresses 
of Notre Dame. 
He saw here that no one took notice of him, and, 
once more at ease, crossed from the Cite to the right 
bank of the Seine. Thus wandering he came at last 
to one of the low bridges which spanned the broad 
ditches then bounding the Place Louis XV, where 
now is the Place de la Concorde. The ducks and 
swans in these canals delighted him. He lingered, 
liking the gaiety and careless joy of the children with 
their nurses. The dogs, acrobats, musketeers, and 
the pomp of heavy, painted carriages rolling by with 
servants in liveries, the Swiss guards, the magnifi- 
cence of the king’s palace, were all to him as a new 
world might have been. 
He went on, and at last along the Rue St. Honore 
and to the Palais Royal, where, amid its splendid 
shops, cafes, jugglers, fortune-tellers, and richly clad 
people, he forgot for an hour his poor little stomach 
and its claims. By and by he took note of the suc- 
cess of a blind beggar. He watched him for an hour, 
and knew that he had in this time gathered in sous 
at least a franc. The shrunken stomach of the boy 
began to convert its claims into demands, and with 
this hint he put on a sad face and began to beg. It 
was not a very prosperous business; but he stated 
his emptiness so pitifully, and his voice had,such 
sweet, pleading notes, that at last he thus acquired 
six or eight sous, and retired to the outer gate to 
count them. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
23 
The imprudence of estimating wealth in public was 
soon made clear to him. He was seated back of the 
open grille, his cap on his lap, when a quick, elawlike 
hand, thrust between the railiugs, darted over his 
shoulder, and seized two thirds of his gains. He 
started up in time to see that the thief was the blind 
beggar, who was away and lost in the crowd and 
among the horses and carriages, to all appearances 
in excellent possession of the sense of sight. Pursuit 
was vain. Francois’s education was progressing. Most 
lads thus tormented by fate would have given way 
to rage or tears. Francois cried out, “ Sathanas! ” 
not knowing as yet any worse expletive, and burst 
into a roar of laughter. At least there were three 
sous left, and these he put into his pocket. His les- 
sons were not over. The crowd thinned at noon, and 
he rose to go in search of food. At this moment a 
gentleman in very gorgeous dress, with ruffles, sword, 
and a variety of dazzling splendors, went by, and at 
the boy’s feet let fall a lace handkerchief. Francois 
seized it, and stood still a moment. Then he put it 
in his breast, and again stood still. To take food is 
one thing; to steal a handkerchief is quite another. 
He was weak with hunger, but he had three sous. 
He ran after the gentleman, and cried: 
“ Here is your handkerchief! ” 
“A very honest lad,” said its owner; “you will 
do well in the world ”; and so went his way, leaving 
to virtue the proverbial reward of virtue. This time 
Francois did not laugh. In the Rue St. Honore he 
bought some boiled beans for two sous, and retired 
to eat them in peace on the steps of St. Roch. Soon 24 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
he saw a woman with a tin pan come out of a little 
shop and after her a half-grown black poodle. She 
set down the pan, and left the dog to his meal. 
Francis reconnoitered cautiously, and giving the 
dog a little kick, fled with the pan, and was shortly 
safe in an unfrequented passage behind the church. 
Here he found that he was master of a chop and a 
half-eaten leg of chicken. He had eaten the chop and 
some crusts, as well as the beans, when he became 
aware of the black poodle, which, being young, still 
had confidence in human nature, and now, with sense 
of ownership, thrust his black nose in the pan of 
lessening viands. 
Francois laughed gaily. The touch of friendly 
trust gave the lonely boy a thrill of joy, and, with 
some reluctance doubtless, he gave the dog what was 
left, feeding him in bits, and talking as a comrade to 
a comrade. The poodle was clearly satisfied. This 
was very delightful society, and he was receiving 
such attention as flatters a decent dog’s sense of his 
social position. The diet was less than usual, but 
the company was of the best, and inspired the ex- 
treme of confidence. There is a charm of equality as 
between dog and boy. Both are of Bohemia. The 
poodle stood up when asked to beg. He was invited 
to reveal his name. He received with the sympa- 
thetic sadness of the motionless tail the legend of 
Francis’s woes. 
When at last Francis rose, the dog followed him 
a little way, saying plainly, “ Where thou goest I will 
go.” But the unlicked pan needed attention; he 
turned back to the fleshpots. Seeing himself de- THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
25 
serted, a vague sadness came upon Francis. It was 
the shadow of an uncomprehended emotion. He 
said, u Adieu, mon ami! ” and left the little black 
fellow with his nose in the pan. 
An hour of wandering here and there brought 
Francis to the palisades around the strong founda- 
tions of the new church of the Madeleine. Beyond 
were scattered country houses, the Pepini&res of the 
king, and the great English garden of JMonceaux 
belonging to the Due d’Orleans. This fascinating 
stretch of trees and green and boundless country 
was like a heavenly land to the boy. No dream 
could be more strange. He set out by the Rue de la 
Pologne, and at last went with timid doubt through 
the barriere, and was soon in the open country. To 
his surprise, he heard a yap at his side, and there 
was the little black poodle, apparently as well pleased 
as he. Francois had no scruples as to ownership. 
Mon Dieu! had he stolen the dog, or had the dog 
stolen him ? They ran along happy, the boy as little 
troubled as the dog by questions of conscience. The 
country was not productive of easily won food, but 
a few stolen plums were to be had. A girl coming 
from milking gave a jug of milk, which Francis, 
despite keen hunger, shared with his friend. When 
a couple of miles from Paris, he sat down to rest by 
the roadside. The dog leaped on to his lap, and the 
boy, as he lay in the sun, began to think of a name 
for this new friend. He tried merrily all the dog- 
names he could think of; but when at last he called, 
“ Toto! ” the poodle barked so cordially that Fran- 
9018 sagaciously inclined to the belief that he must 26 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
have hit upon the poodle’s name. “ Toto it shall be,” 
he cried. All that day they wandered joyfully, 
begged a crust, and at night slept in an orchard, 
the poodle clasped to the boy’s bosom — a pair of 
happy vagabonds. 
When, next day, the pair of them, half starved, 
were disconsolately returning toward Paris, an old 
woman bade Francois earn a few sous by picking 
strawberries. But the dog must not range the garden; 
he should be tied in the kitchen. Framjois worked 
hard at the matter in hand, taking good toll of the 
berries, and at noon went back with the old dame to 
her cottage. 
“It is five sous, mon gargon, and a bowl of milk 
thou shalt have, and a bit of meat; and how merry 
thou art! ” 
Alas! as she opened the door the poodle fled past 
her with a whole steak in his mouth. Hot it was, 
but of such delicate savor that it gave him courage 
to hold on. The old woman threw a stool after him, 
and cried out in wrath that they were both thieves. 
Then she turned on poor Francois with fury and a 
broom, so that he had scarce time to leap the fence 
and follow the dog. He found him at last with his 
rather dusty prize ; and seeing no better thing to do, 
he went deep into a wood, and there filled himself as 
he had not done for days. The brigand Toto had 
his share, and thus reinforced, they set out again to 
return to Paris. y 
Of the immorality which may come of an empty stom- 
ach, and of how Frangois became acquainted with a 
human crab. 
nomad life was sadly uncertain; but 
Toto was a sharp forager, and what 
iff I Jg with a sou begged here and there, and 
the hospitality of summer, for a while 
they were not ill contented. But at last 
Francis passed two days of such lean living as set 
his wits to work. There was clearly no help for it, 
and with a rueful face he entered the shop whence 
Toto had followed his uncertain fortunes. 
The owner was a pleasant little woman who took 
honesty for granted. Yes, it was her dog; and how 
long he had been gone! Here was a great piece of 
twenty sous; and where did he find the poodle? 
Francis declared that he lived near by and knew 
the dog. He had found him in the Rue du Faubourg 
St. Lazare. And was it so far away as that? He 
must be tired, and for his honesty should be well fed. 
Thus, rich as never before, and with a full stomach, 
he left Toto tied up, and went out into the world 
again, lonely and sad. 
27 28 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Needless is it to describe bis wanderings, or to re- 
late bow the lonely lad acquired the sharp ways of a 
gamin of the streets. For a while he begged or stole 
what food he required. Some four months later, a 
combination of motives led him into theft which was 
not mere foraging. 
On a cold November day he was again in the 
crowded gardens and arcades of the Palais Royal. 
He was shabby enough by this time, and was sharply 
reminded by the cool nights of the need for shelter. 
By chance his eye lighted on the man who shammed 
blindness and had stolen his precious sous. The 
beggar was kneeling, cap in hand, with closed eyes, 
his head turned upward, entreating pity for his 
loss of sight. There were some sous in his cap. As 
Francis passed he made believe to add another sou, 
and as he did so deftly scooped up the greater part 
of the coins. 
The blind man cried out; but the boy skipped 
aside, laughing, well aware that for the beggar to 
pursue him would be hardly advisable, as he might 
lose more than he could gain. 
A few sous were of small account. They insured 
a meal, but not a lodging. As he was thus reflecting, 
he saw near by and presently beside him the gentle- 
man who had so highly appreciated the return of his 
handkerchief. The coat pockets were large in those 
days, and the crowd was great. A little white corner 
of lace besought Master Francis, crying, “ I am food 
and lodging for thee! ” Whereupon it was done, and 
a lace handkerchief changed owners. 
It cannot be said that these downward steps cost THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
29 
Francois any moral discomfort. He grinned as lie 
thought of the beggar’s perplexity, and laughed out- 
right as he felt how complete had been his own joy 
in the satisfaction of possession could he have made the 
owner of the kerchief understand that he had suffered 
not merely a theft, but the punishment of injustice. 
Francis was now too well versed in the ways of the 
street-boy, too dirty and too ragged, to fear the Cite. 
Thither he went, and found a thieves’ shop, where he 
sold the handkerchief, and got ten francs for what 
was worth thirty. 
The question of a place where he could be sure of 
a bed was his first consideration on coming into his 
fortune. In the long, warm summers of France one 
who was not particular could find numerous roost- 
in g-places, but in winter a more constant home was 
to be desired. 
In the Cite Francis had occasionally lodged here 
and there when he could afford to pay, and had been 
turned out when he had no more sous. Now, being 
affluent, and therefore hard to please, he wandered 
until he came upon the lodging-house of an old 
woman in the Rue Perpignan. He knew of her as 
a dealer in thieves’ goods, and as ever ready to shelter 
the lucky—and, it was suspected, as willing to betray 
those who were persistently unfortunate. 
What drew him to this woman’s house it were hard 
to tell. She was repulsive in appearance, but, 
strangely enough, was clean as to her person, dress, 
and abode. Asylum life had taught Franqois to be 
cleanly. He declares in his memoirs that he was by 
habit neat, and that it was the absence of dirt which 30 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
first tempted him into a relation which was so largely 
to affect his after life. 
When he became one of this woman’s lodgers he 
took a step which was for him of moment. Now for 
the first time he was to be in the company of old and 
practised thieves; but he was not yet of an age to be 
troubled as to the future or to reflect upon the past. 
The horizon of youth is small. 
He found plenty of masters to educate him in the 
evil business into which he had been driven by re- 
lentless fate. Never was pupil more ready. His 
hostess appreciated the cleverness of her new lodger, 
but it was long before he himself realized how 
strange was the aspect and how sinister the nature 
of this mother of evil. 
Certain historical epochs create types of face. This 
was a period which manufactured many singular 
visages. None was more strange than that which 
Mme. Quatre Pattes carried on a body quite as re- 
markable. Francois speaks of her over and over in 
his memoirs, and dwells upon the peculiarities of her 
appearance. I recall well what he said to me, one 
evening, of this creature : 
“You see, monsieur, I went to one den of thieves 
and another until I chanced upon the Crab. It is 
not to be described; for here in a little room was a 
witch, crumpled and deformed, sharply bent forward 
as to the back from the waist, and — ah, diablement 
thin ! She was cleanly and even neat, and her room 
was a marvel, because over there in the Cite men were 
born and lived and died, and never saw a clean thing. 
And she was of a strangeness — consider, monsieur ; 
imagine you a bald head, and a lean face below, very THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
31 
red, and the skin drawn so tight over the hones as to 
shine. Her eyes were little and of a dull gray; hut 
they held you. Her lips were lean, and she kept them 
moving in a queer way as if chewing. I did laugh 
when first I saw her, hut not often afterward.” 
When he confided to this clean and horrible crea- 
ture what he wanted, she made him welcome. She 
rattled the two sticks which her hent form made 
needful for support. She would house him cheaply; 
hut he must he industrious—and to sell a lace hand- 
kerchief for ten francs — tonnerre! He needed cau- 
tion. She would he a bonne maman to him — she, 
Quatre Pattes, “four paws”; the Crah, they called 
her, too, for short, and because of her red leanness and 
spite; but what was her real name he did not learn 
for many a day. At first her appearance excited in 
his mind no emotion except amazement and mirth. 
A terrible old crah it was when she showed her 
toothless gums and howled obscenities, while her 
sticks were used with strange agility. The quarter 
feared her. M. Frangois had a fortune in his face, 
she said; and did he know the savate, the art to 
kick? There was a master next door. And again, 
what a face ! With that face he might lie all day, 
and who would disbelieve him ? Better to fetch her 
what he stole. She would see that no one cheated 
him hut herself, and that would he ever so little. 
One must live. When she laughed, which was not 
often, Frangois felt that a curse were more gay. 
There were devil-women in those days, as the mad 
world of Paris soon came to know; and the Crah, 
with her purple nose and crooked red claws, was 
of the worst. VI 
Of how Francois regained a lost friend, and of his 
adventure with the poet Horace and another gentle- 
man. 
HUS Frangois was launched on what he 
was pleased to call the business of life, 
I I I and soon became expert in the transfer 
of property. Strange to say, he had 
little pleasure in the debauchery of suc- 
cessful crime, and was too good-natured to like vio- 
lence. When he had enough for his moderate wants 
he wandered in the country, here and there, in an 
aimless, drifting way. Simple things gave him plea- 
sure. He could lie in the woods or on the highway 
half a day, only moving to keep in the sun. He liked 
to watch any living creature — to see the cows feed, 
to observe the birds. He had a charm for all animals. 
When the wagons went by, dogs deserted them, and 
came to him for a touch and a word. Best of all it 
was to sit beside some peasant’s beehive, finding there 
no enmity, and smiling at the laborious lives he had no 
mind to imitate. Sometimes he yearned for the lost 
poodle, and had a pang of loneliness. That this man 
should have had gentle tastes, a liking for nature, a 
32 THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
33 
regard for some of the decencies of life, will not sur- 
prise those who know well the many varieties of the 
young criminal class; neither will these he amazed to 
learn that now and then he heard mass, and crossed 
himself devoutly when there was occasion. Children 
he fascinated; a glance of his long, odd face would 
make them leave nurse and toy, and sidle up to him. 
In the Cite these singularities made him avoided, while 
his growing strength caused him to he feared. He 
sought no friends among the thieves. “Very pru- 
dent, that,” said Mme. Quatre Pattes; u the more 
friends, the more enemies.” 
He was quick and active, and a shrewd observer; 
for the hard life of the streets had sharpened his natu- 
rally ready wits, and he looked far older than his 
years. Of a Sunday in May he was walking down 
the Rue St. Honore, feeling a hit lonely, as was not 
often the case, when he saw Toto. He whistled, and 
the poodle ran to him, and would no more of the 
shop or fat food he liked. 
“ Toto! Mon Dieu l ” he laughed, hugging the dog, 
his eyes full with the tears of joy. u Hast stolen me 
again ? Wilt never return me ? ’T is no honest dog. 
Views done. Come, then, old friend.” Joyous in the 
company of his comrade, who was now well grown, 
he strolled out into the fields, where Toto caught a 
rahhit — a terrible crime in those days. 
During the next two years the pair fairly pros- 
pered. Francis, as he used to relate, having risen 
in his profession, found a certain pleasure in good 
clothes, and being of a dramatic turn, could put 
on an air of bourgeois sobriety, or, with a sword 34 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
at his side and a bit of lace here and there, swag- 
ger as a lesser gentleman. If things were very 
bad, he sold Toto and all his fine tricks for a round 
sum, and in a day or two was sure to find the dog 
overjoyed and back again at the garret door. The 
pair were full of devices. There was Toto, a plated 
snuff-box in his mouth, capering before some old 
gentle or some slow-pacing merchant; appears Fran- 
9ois, resistlessly smiling. 
“ Has monsieur lost a snuff-box? My dog? Yes, 
monsieur. He is honest, and clever too.” 
Monsieur, hastily searching, produces his own 
snuff-box —- the indispensable snuff-box of the day. 
“No; thanks.” And it is noted that the box he 
shows is of gold, and into what pocket it falls. In 
the next crowd Toto knows how to make a disturb- 
ance with some fat lap-dog, and in the confusion 
thus created the snuff-box changes owners. 
“ If the man be sorry, I at least am made happy,” 
says FranQois; “ and he hath been the better for a 
lesson in caution. I got what I needed, and he what 
he required. Things are very even in this world.” 
Francois had learned philosophy among the cures 
and priests of the choir-house. As he avoided great 
risks, and, as I have said, was averse to violence, he 
kept clear of detection, and could deceive the police 
of the king if by rare chance he were in peril of ar- 
rest. When the missing property was some minor 
article, such as a handkerchief, it was instantly hid 
in Toto’s mouth. The dog skipped away, the out- 
raged master was searched; the bewildered owner 
apologized, and the officers were shocked at such a THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
35 
needless charge. Francis talked about his offended 
honor, and as he looked at twenty to be a strong 
man of full age, the affair was apt to go no further. 
Half the cleverness and thought thus devoted to 
an ignoble pursuit would have given him success in 
more honest ways. But for a long while no angel 
chance tempted him, and it must be admitted that he 
enjoyed the game he pursued, and was easily con- 
tented, not eagerly caring to find a less precarious 
and less risky mode of life. 
Temperament is merely a permanent mood. Fran- 
9ois was like the month of June in his dear Paris. 
There might be storms and changes, but his mental 
weather had the pleasant insurance of what was in the 
order of despotic nature. And yet to be owner of the 
continual sunshine of cheerfulness has its drawbacks. 
It deprives a man of some of the wholesome lures of 
life. It dulls the spurs which goad us to resolve. It 
may make calamity too easy of endurance. To be too 
consistently cheerful may be in itself a misfortune. 
It had for this vagrant all its values and some of its 
defects. His simple, gay existence, and his flow of 
effervescent merriment, kept him happy and thought- 
less. Most persons of this rare type like company; 
but Francis was an exception. He was better 
pleased to be alone with his dog, and usually desired 
no other society. As the poodle could not talk, his 
master was given to making answer for him, and 
finding no one to his taste among the Crab’s villain- 
ous lodgers, kept to himself, and was satisfied. Nor 
did he ever appear to have imagined what the larger 
world he knew not held of such human society as 36 
THE ADVENTURES OP FRANQOIS 
would have comforted that sense of void in his heart 
which he acknowledged at times, but had no way 
to fill. When fortune played him some sorry trick, 
he laughed, and unconsciously quoted La Rochefou- 
cauld. “ Toto, ah, my Toto, one can never be as cun- 
ning as everybody.” This was apropos of an incident 
which greatly amused him. 
He was in his favorite resort, the Palais Royal, one 
June morning, and was at this time somewhat short 
of cash. The Crab had preached him a sharp sermon 
on his lack of industry, and he had liked neither the 
sermon nor the preacher. At this moment a young 
fellow in fine clothes came by. Francis, producing, 
as usual, a gaudy snuff-box worth some ten francs, 
politely asked of monsieur had he lost this box. 
Monsieur took it in his hand. Yes, yes; he had just 
missed it, the gift of his god-father, and was much 
obliged. He let it fall into his pocket, and walked 
away. Franqois looked after him. “ Toto, nous 
sommes voids—we are sold!” Then the fun of it, as 
usual, overcame him, and he wandered away to the 
garden of the Luxembourg, and at last threw himself 
on a bench, and laughed as a child laughs, being for 
moments quiet, and then given over to uncontrolled 
mirth. Having feasted with honest comfort on all 
the humorous aspects of the situation, his hand 
chanced to fall on a little book left by some one on 
the seat. He had long ceased to read, for no books 
fell in his way, nor could he often have afforded to 
buy them even had he had a keen appetite for their 
contents. 
The little vellum-bound volume opened to his FRANCOIS AND TOTO IN THE LUXEMBOURG. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
39 
touch, as if used to be generous of what it held. It 
was Latin, and verse. He knew, or had known, 
more than most choir-boys needed of this tongue, 
and the talk of the choir-house was, by stringent 
rule, in Latin. But this book was not of a religious 
kind; it half puzzled his mind as he read. Unac- 
customed to profane Latin verse, and yet wholly 
pleased, he began to murmur aloud the rhythmic 
measures: 
“Poscimus, si quid vacui sub umbra 
Lusimus tecum, quod et hunc in annum 
Vivat, et plures : age, die Latinum, 
Barbite, carmen. 
“ It hath a fine sound, mon ami ; and who was this 
Quintus ?” He went on reading aloud the delicious 
rhythms for the joy of hearing their billowy flow. 
Now and then he smiled as he caught the full mean- 
ing of a line. 
The keen-faced poodle sat on the bench beside 
him, with a caressing head laid against his shoulder; 
the sun was sweet and warm, the roses were many. 
The time suited the book, and the book the man. 
He read on, page after page of the beautiful Aldine 
type, now and then pausing, vexed to be so puzzled 
by these half-guessed beautiful riddles. 
“Toto, my dog, I would thou didst know Latin. 
This man he loved the country, and good wine, and 
girls; and he had friends — friends, which you and 
I have not.” 
Then he was lost for an hour. At last he ceased 
to read, and sat with a finger in the book, idly drift- 
ing on the immortal stream of golden song. 40 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“ That must have been a merry companion, Toto. 
I did hear of him once in the choir-house. He must 
be dead a mighty while ago. If a man is as gay as 
that, it must be horrid to die.” 
My poor thief was one of the myriad who through 
the long centuries had come into kindly touch of the 
friend of Msecenas. For the first time in his uncer- 
tain life he felt the charm of genius. 
Indulgent opportunity was for Framjois always 
near to some fatal enmity of chance. So does fate 
deal with the unlucky. He saw coming swiftly to- 
ward him a tall, strongly built man of middle age. 
He was richly dressed, and as he drew near he smiled. 
“ Ah, monsieur,” he said; “ I came back in haste to 
reclaim my little Horace. I missed it only when I 
got home. I am most fortunate.” 
Franpois rose. He returned the small volume, but 
did not speak. 
“ Monsieur of course knows Horace,” said the gen- 
tleman, looking him over, a little curious and more 
than a little interested. Too sure of his own posi- 
tion to shun any intercourse which promised amuse- 
ment, he went on : “ No; not know Horace ? Let us 
sit awhile. The sun is pleasant.” 
Francis, rather shy, and suspicious of a manner 
of man he had never before encountered, sat down, 
saying, “ I was a choir-boy once. I know some Latin, 
not much; but this sounded pleasant to the ear.” 
“Yes; it is immortal music. A choir-boy, you 
said; and pardon me, but, mon Dieu, I heard you 
laugh as I was searching for my book. You have a THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
41 
fine gift that way, and there is little to laugh at now- 
adays in France.” 
“ Monsieur will excuse me; I am so made that I 
laugh at everything and at nothing. I believe I do 
laugh in my sleep. And just now I laughed because 
— because -— ” 
“Well, why did you laugh?” 
Francis glanced at the questioner. Something 
authoritative in his ways made it seem needful to 
answer, and what this or any man thought of him 
he cared little — perhaps because in his world opin- 
ions went for nothing. And still he hesitated a 
moment. 
“Well?” There was a note of strong surprise in 
the voice, as if the owner felt it to be unusual that a 
query he put should not evoke instant reply. 
“ I laughed because I was cheated.” 
“ Charming, that! May I ask how ? But per- 
haps — ” 
“No,” said Framjois,- “if it amuse monsieur, why 
should I care ? ” He calmly related his adventure. 
The gentleman threw himself back on the seat in 
an ecstasy of amusement. He was out of humor 
with the time and with his own world, and bored by 
the incessant politics of the day; here was a pleasant 
diversion. 
“ By St. Denis! my friend, you are like the great 
Chicot that was fool to King Henry of merry 
memory.” 
“ And how, monsieur ? ” 
“How? He had a long face that laughed ever, 42 
THE ADVENTURES OP FRANQOIS 
long legs, and a shrewd way of seeming more simple 
than he was.” 
“ Monsieur flatters me.” 
“ Ah; and a smart rogue, too. I may conclude your 
profession to he that of relieving the rich of their too 
excessive luxuries.” 
Framjois was enchanted with this ingenious and 
unprejudiced companion, who had, like himself, a 
sense of the laughable aspects of life. 
“Monsieur has hit it,” he said gaily; “I am a 
thief.” 
No one had taught him to be ashamed of anything 
but failure in his illegal enterprises. 
“ Tims ! That is droll; — not that you are a thief: 
I have known many in my own world. They steal a 
variety of things, each after his taste in theft — the 
money of the poor, the character of a man, a woman’s 
honor.” 
“ I scarcely comprehend,” said FranQois, who was 
puzzled. 
“They lack your honesty of confession. Could 
you be altogether honest if a man trusted you ? ” 
“I do not know. No man ever trusted me, and 
one must live, monsieur.” 
The gentleman hesitated, and relapsed into the in- 
difference of a too easy life. He had been on the 
point of offering this outcast a chance. 
“ Tin fin, no doubt you are right. I wish you every 
success. The deuce! Have you my snuff-box and 
my handkerchief H ” 
“ Both,” said Francis. 
“ Then don’t run away. I could never catch you. THE ADVENTURES OP FRANCOIS 
43 
Long legs must be of use in your profession. The 
snuff-box I will ransom. Let us say fifty francs. It 
is worth more, but it bears my name, and there are 
risks.’7 
“Certainly,” said Francis. “And the handker- 
chief. Monsieur is enrhume — has a cold; I could 
not deprive monsieur.” 
The gentleman thanked him, paid over the money 
for the box, and, greatly pleased, rose, saying: “You 
are a dangerous acquaintance; but I trust we may 
meet again. Au revoir!77 
Francis remained on the bench, Toto at his feet 
in the sun. This meeting affected him strangely. It 
had been the first touch of a world remote from his 
own. He did not recognize the fact that he had gifts 
which enable men to rise in life. At times he had had 
vague ambitions, but he was at the foot of a ladder, 
and the rungs above were broken or not to be seen. 
These moods were brief, and as to their cause not 
always clear to him. He was by nature social, and 
able to like or to love; but the people of the Cite 
were dreadful, and if now and then some broken 
refugee from a higher class delighted him for a time, 
the eventful hand of justice or what not was apt to 
separate them. 
As he looked after the gentleman he felt his charm 
and the courtesy of his ways as something to be de- 
sired. His own form of attractiveness, the influence 
of joyous laughter and frank approach, he had often 
and usefully tested; and perhaps this sense of his own 
power to please made him intelligently apprehensive 
of what he had just experienced. Had he seized 44 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
eagerly the half-offered help the gentleman suggested 
rather than offered, he had been wiser; but it was 
literally true that, being when possible honest as to 
speech, he had obeyed the moment’s impulse. A bet- 
ter man than the gentleman would have gone further. 
He had lazily reflected, and concluded that to help 
this poor devil might be troublesome, and thus the 
jewel opportunity lay lost at their feet. They were 
to meet again, and then it was to be the thief’s turn. 
Now he sat in thought, kicking the ground with 
his boot. Out of the past came remembrances of the 
asylum, and how he had been told to be good, and 
not to kill or to steal, or to do certain other naughty 
things less clear to him then than now. But this 
was a far-away time. At the choir-house were the 
same moral lessons, but they who taught were they 
who sinned. Since then no one had said a word of 
reproach to the waif; nor had this great gentleman, 
and yet he had left him in the rare mood of thought- 
filled depression. 
“Wake up, Toto,” he cried; “thou art become too 
fat. En avant mix champs ! ” And, followed by the 
poodle, he went away up the Seine, and was gone so 
long that Quatre Pattes began to think he had taken 
to honest courses and would return no more. 
He came back in a fortnight, the better for certain 
prosperous ventures. And thus the days ran on. If 
fortune were against him, and even diet hard to get, 
Toto went with the Crab to some distant market 
after dusk, and, while she bargained, knew to steal 
a cutlet, and to run away with his prize, and make 
for home or the next dark lane. But these devices THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
45 
failed at times, and thus Francois’s life consisted of 
a series of ups and downs. When lucky he bought 
good clothes, for which he had a liking; when un- 
lucky he pawned them, and went back to garments 
no one would take in pledge. 
It was in the year 1788 that this adventure oc- 
curred. He was, as far as was to be guessed, fully 
twenty-one years of age. His life of adventure, of 
occasional hardships, and of incessant watchfulness 
had already given him the appearance of being a far 
older person. 
Always an odd-looking lad, as he grew to maturity 
his great length of limb, his long face, and ears of 
unnatural bigness, gave him such singularity of as- 
pect as made disguises impossible. 
The poodle was an added danger, and for this 
reason, when in pursuit of prey, Francois was forced 
to leave the dog with Mother Crab. Thus time ran 
on with such perils as attend the life he led, but with 
better fortune than could have been expected. As to 
these later years up to 1790, Francois, in his memoirs, 
says little. Once — indeed, twice—he left the Crab’s 
house, only to be driven back by stress of circum- 
stance. After 1790 his account is more complete, and 
here it is that we take up again the fuller story of 
his life. 
The turmoil of vast governmental and social 
changes was disturbing all ranks of life. If the 
Revolution was nursed in the salons, as some say, 
it was born in the furrows of the tax-tormented 
peasant, and in the seething caldron of the Cite and 
the quarters of the starving poor. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
46 
Frarujois, who cared little what ruler was on top, 
or who paid taxes, was aware of the uneasy stir in his 
own neighborhood. Men were more savage. Murder 
and all violent crimes were more common. That 
hungry beast, the mob, began to show its fangs, soon 
to be red with blood. The clubs of all opinions were 
busy. The church was toppling to ruin, its centuries 
of greedy gain at an end. Political lines were 
sharply drawn. The white cockade and the tricolor 
were the badges of hostile ranks, still more distinctly 
marked by costume. The caf6s were divided: some 
were Royalist, some Jacobin or neutral. Too many 
who were of the noble class were flying, or, if more 
courageous or less forethoughtful, were gathering 
into bitterly opponent camps. So much of that lower 
Paris as felt, yearned, hated, and was hungry, glad 
of any change, was pleased amid tumult to find its 
chance to plunder and to kill. 
The fall of the Bastille in the preceding year had 
not seemed important to Francois. He had inter- 
ested himself in the purses of the vast crowd which 
looked on and was too much taken up with the event 
to guard the contents of its pockets. The violence 
which came after was not to Frangois’s taste; but 
these street crowds were admirable for business until 
money became scarce, and the snuff-box and the lace 
handkerchief disappeared with armorial bearings, 
and with the decree of the people that great dames 
must no more go in fine carriages. VII 
Wherein is told how Frangois saved a man's neck and 
learned to juggle. 
the early spring of this year Francois 
|g| I ig| found himself, one day, in a crowd near 
tlH I 1C to >or^e St. Denis. He stood high 
on his long legs, looking on, while men 
on ladders broke up the royal escutcheon 
on the stone archway. It amused him a little to see 
how furious they were, and how crazy were the fool- 
ish poissardes: these fishwomen, who had so many 
privileges under the monarchy, at every blow of the 
hammer yelled with delight; and behold, here was 
the Crab, Quatre Pattes, far away from her quarter, 
hoarse with screaming, a horrible edition of woman 
as she stood under the arch, careless of the falling 
fragments. On the edge of the more prudent crowd, 
an old man was guilty of some rash protest in the 
way of speech. Francis heard the cry, “ A has Varis- 
tocrate ! d la lanterne! ” and saw the Crab leap on 
the man like some fierce insect, horribly agile, a thin 
gray tress down her back. Swift and terrible it was. 
In a moment he swung writhing from the chain of 
the street-lantern, fighting with vain hands to loosen 48 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
the rope. A red-haired woman leaped up and caught 
his leg. There was laughter. The man above her 
hung limp. Fran<jois did not laugh. He tried to 
get out of the crowd, away from this quivering hor- 
ror. To do so was not easy. The crowd was noisy 
and turbulent, swaying to and fro, intent on mischief. 
As he moved he saw a small, stout man take, with 
some lack of skill, a purse from the side-pouch of a 
huge fish woman. Fran<jois, being close to the thief, saw 
him seized by the woman he had robbed. In the press, 
which was great, Francis slipped a hand into the 
thief’s pocket, and took out the purse. Meanwhile 
there were again wild cries of “To the lantern!” 
“ Up with him! ” the woman lamenting her loss, and 
denouncing the man who had stolen. His life was 
like to be brief. Surrounded by these she-devils, he 
stood, white, shaking, and swearing he was innocent. 
The man’s anguish of fear moved Francois. “ Dame ! ” 
he cried, “ search the man before you hang him! I 
say, search him! ” While one of them began to act 
on his hint, Francis let the purse fall into the 
pocket of the original owner — an easy feat for a 
practised hand. “ The man has it not. Look again 
in thy pouch, maman,” he cried. “ The man has it 
not; that is plain.” When the dame of the market 
found her purse, she turned on Francis, amid the 
laughter of her friends. “Thou art a confederate. 
Thou didst put it back thyself.” Indeed, things were 
like to go ill. The crowd was of a mind to hang 
some one. A dozen hands fell on him, while the 
man he had aided slipped away quietly. Framjois 
shook off the women, and with foot and fist cleared THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
49 
a space, for he was of great strength of body. He 
would have earned but a short reprieve had he not 
seen the Crab. He called to her: “ A moi! Quatre 
Pattes! ” The ring of red-faced furies fell back 
for a moment before the rage and power of a man 
defending his life. Half dismayed, but furious, they 
shouted: “ Hang him! Kill him! ” and called to the 
men to help them. Again Francois was hustled and 
struck as the crowd closed in on him. He struggled, 
and called to Toto, whom nothing so disturbed as to 
see a rude touch laid on his master. In an instant 
the dog was busy with the stout calves about him, 
biting, letting go, and biting again. The diversion 
was valuable, but brief; and soon Toto, who was not 
over-valiant, fled to his master, the crowd yelling: 
“ Kill him! Hang him and the beast! ” Once more 
Frangois exerted his exceptional strength, crying, 
“Not while I live!” and catching up the dog under 
his arm. Then he heard the shrill voice of the Crab. 
“ A moi! ” he shouted, and struck right and left as 
Quatre Pattes, with her sticks, squirmed in under the 
great arms of the fishwomen. 
“ A moi ! ” she cried, “ Frangois! ” With her sticks, 
and tongue of the vilest, she cleared a space as the 
venomous creatures fell back from one more hideous 
than themselves. 
Meanwhile the accusing dame shook her purse at 
the Crab, crying, “ He put it back; I felt him do it.” 
But the rest laughed, and the Crab faced her with so 
fierce a look that she shrank away. 
“ Off with thee! ” said the Crab to Francis; “ thou 
wert near to the lantern.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“ ’T is a Jacobin of the best,” she cried to the mob; 
“a friend of mine. You will get into trouble — you 
cursed fools! ” 
The crowd cheered her, and Frangois, seizing the 
chance, cried, laughing, “ Adieu, mesdames,” and in a 
moment was out of the crowd and away. He turned 
as many corners as possible, and soon, feeling it safe 
to move more slowly, set down the dog and readjusted 
his dress. 
A minute later he saw beside him the man he had 
saved. “ Do not speak to me here,” he said; “ follow 
me at a distance.” The man, still white and shaking, 
obeyed him. At the next turn, as Frangois paused in 
doubt which way to go, he met Quatre Pattes. 
“The devil nearly got thee, my little boy,” she 
said; “but a smart thief is worth some trouble to 
save. Pay me for thy long neck, and quick, too.” 
She was full of eau-de-vie, and, as usual then, savage 
and reckless. 
“ More! ” she cried — “ more! ” as he gave her a 
franc. “More, more! Ungrateful beast, thou art 
good to feed me, and for little else. More, more! I 
say, or I will call them after thee, and this time I 
shall have a good pull at the rope. More, more!” 
and she struck him with her stick. “ Sacr4, waif of 
hell! More! more!” she screamed. “And that fel- 
low who helped thee! I have seen him; I know 
him.” 
Frangois turned without a word, and ran as fast as 
his long legs would carry him. Two blocks away he 
was overtaken by the other thief. They pushed on 
in silence. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
51 
At last Fran<jois, getting back bis somewhat scat- 
tered wits, said: “We can talk now.” 
“Ah, I understand,” said the other; “thou didst 
steal her purse from me, and put it back in her 
pouch” 
“Yes; I took it just as they caught thee; then I 
let it fall into her pouch.” 
“ I thank thee, monsieur. Dieu ! I am all in a sweat. 
We are of a trade, I perceive. Why didst thou help 
me?” 
“ To keep it was a risk. My turn might have come 
next. I pitied thee, too.” 
“ I shall never forget it — never.” 
Francis laughed. The fat man looked up at him. 
“ Dame! but thou hast a queer face, and ears like 
wings. ;T is a fortune. Let us have a little wine 
and talk. I have a good idea.” 
“ Presently,” said Franyois; “ I like not the neigh- 
borhood.” 
Soon they found a guinguette, or low liquor-shop, 
in the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs, and, feeling at 
last secure, had a long talk over a bottle of wine. 
Francis learned that his new acquaintance was 
named Pierre Despard, and that he had, for the most 
part of his means of living, given up the business of 
relieving the rich of their purses. He explained that 
lie did well as a conjurer, and had a booth near the 
Pont Neuf. He made clear to Francis that with his 
quick fingers, and a face which none could see and 
not laugh, he would be a desirable partner. 
“Thou must learn to move those huge ears.” 
Would he be his assistant? When times were bad 52 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
they might profit by tempting chances in their old 
line of life. 
Framjois was just now as near to penitence as his 
nature permitted him to be, and his recent peril dis- 
posed him to listen. The more he reflected as Des- 
pard talked, the more he liked it. He ended by say- 
ing, “Yes”; and before the Crab had reached home 
he had taken away his slender store of garments, 
and, with Toto at his heels, found his way to the 
room of his new friend, in a little street which ran 
into the Rue Basse du Rempart, not far from the 
Madeleine. Thus began a mode of life which he 
found fresh and full of satisfaction. 
The pair so strangely brought together took a 
room in the fifth story, and, with Toto, set up do- 
mestic life on a modest scale. It was much to Fran- 
cis’s contentment. He had what I may call a side 
taste for the respectable, and this new business 
seemed to him a decided rise in life. It was varied 
enough to amuse him; nor was it so conventionally 
commercial as to lack such adventure and incident 
as this wild young reprobate of the Cite had learned 
to like. The new business soon gave the partners 
more than enough to live upon. After their lodging 
and diet were provided for, Pierre Despard took two 
thirds of what was left, and put it away in a stock- 
ing, at first with some doubt as to his comrade, but 
soon with the trust which Francis was apt to in- 
spire. From early morn until noon, Pierre taught 
Francis to do tricks with cards, to juggle with balls, 
and to tell fortunes by the lines of the hand. Toto 
was educated to carry a basket and collect sous, to • 1'IERRE TAUGHT FRANCOIS TO JUGGLE WITH BALLS '' THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
55 
stand on his head with a pipe in his mouth, and to 
pick out a card at a signal. The rest of the day was 
spent in the booth, where they rarely failed to be 
well paid. At evening there was a quiet cafe and 
dominoes, and a modest petit verre of brandy. Mean- 
while the peasants burned chateaux, and Protestant 
and Catholic hanged one another in the pleasant 
South. 
Now and then the Paris mob enjoyed a like luxury, 
and amid unceasing disorder the past was swept on 
to the dust-heaps of history. 
The little audience of children and nurses in front of 
the booth was as yet nowise concerned as to these vast 
changes; nor was Toto disturbed when it was thought 
prudent to robe him with a three-colored ribbon. 
The politics of the masters of the show varied as their 
audiences changed from the children of the rich at 
noon to the Jacobin workmen at the coming of dusk. 
Francis personally preferred splendor and the finery 
of the great. He was by nature a Royalist. Pierre 
was silent or depressed, and said little as to his 
opinions. But both had the prudence of men always 
too near to poverty to take risks of loss for the sake 
of political sentiments in which they had no immedi- 
ate interest. 
Despard was a somber little man, and nimble, as 
some fat men are. He was as red-cheeked as a Nor- 
man apple, and, at this time, of unchanging gravity 
of face and conduct. Not even Francis’s gaiety could 
tempt him to relate his history; and although at 
times a great talker, he became so terrified when 
frankly questioned as to his past, that Francis 56 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
ceased to urge him. That any one should desire to 
conceal anything was to Frangois amazing. He was 
himself a valuable possession to his morose partner. 
“ I do not laugh/’ said Pierre; “ nay, not even as a 
matter of business. Thou shalt laugh for two. Some 
day we will go to see the little girl who is at Sevres, 
in a school of nuns. ’T is there the money goes.” 
This was a sudden revelation to Francis. Here 
was a human being, like himself a thief, who was 
sacrificing something for another. The isolation of 
his own life came before him with a sense of shock. 
He said he should be glad to see the child, and when 
should they go ? VIII 
In which Frangois discovers the mercantile value of 
laughter, and the Crab takes toll of the jugglers—with 
the sad history of Fespard, the partner. 
BATE in the evenings, in the room they 
shared, the practice of the early morning 
was resumed, and, above all, Pierre was 
overjoyed to see what tricks of feature 
were within Frainjois’s control. He had, 
in fact, some of the art of the actor, and was the mas- 
ter of such surprises of expression as were irresistibly 
comic. By and by the fame of his wonderful visage 
spread, and very often the young nobles, with their 
white cockades, came to see, or great ladies would 
pause to have their palms read. When palmistry 
was to be used, the booth was closed with black cur- 
tains, between which was seen only this long face, 
with the flaring ears and laughing eyes. Presently 
a huge hand came out below, the rest of the figure 
remaining unseen. Then, in the quaintest language, 
Francois related wonderful things yet to be, his large 
mouth opening so as to divide the merry face as with 
a gulf. 
It was a time eager for the new, and this astonish- 
57 58 
THE ADVENTURES OP FRANCOIS 
ing mask had a huge success. The booth grew rich, 
and raised its prices, so that soon these two pirates 
of the Cit6 sat in wonder over their gains, and Pierre 
began to store up a few louis for a bad day, and for 
the future of the little maid at Sevres, where two or 
three of the Sisters of the Sacred Heart had found a 
new home, and taken again the charge of some of 
their scattered flock. 
Frangois was fast learning the art of the conjurer; 
but at times, sad to say, he yearned for a chance to 
apply his newly acquired dexterity in ways which 
were more perilous. He liked change, and had the 
pleasure in risk which is common to daring men. 
Indeed, he was at times so restless as to require the 
urgent counsels of Pierre to keep him tranquil. 
Once or twice he must needs insist on a holiday, 
and went away with Toto for two days. They came 
back dirty and happy, but to Pierre’s relief. This 
uneasy partner was now essential, and more and 
more Jacobin and Royalist crowded about the booth 
to get a laugh out of the sight of the face which, 
appearing through the curtain with hair brushed up 
and long brown beard combed down, suddenly grew 
as broad as it had been long. The laugh into which 
it broke was so cheery, so catching, so causeless, that 
all who saw fell into fits of merriment such as were 
not common in those days of danger and anxiety. 
Then the partner appeared in front of the booth. 
So many wished the man who laughed to read their 
palms that Pierre declared it must be for the highest 
bidder. A gay auction took place; and the winner 
heard his fate slyly whispered by the voice of many THE ADVENTURES OP FRANQOIS 
59 
tones, or it might be that it was loudly read for the 
benefit of the crowd, and, amid cries and jeers, the 
victim retired with promise of a wife with a negative 
dowry in some nnexistent section of Paris. Or, 
again, it was an elderly dame who consulted the voice 
of fate. She was to have three husbands, and die 
young. Then another broad hand came forth, and 
on it the black poodle upright, with a handkerchief 
to his eyes, and his tail adorned with crape. It was 
witty, innocent, and amusing, and delighted this 
Paris, which was becoming suspicious, cruel, and 
grimly devilish. 
Very soon the business in which laughter was 
sold for what it would bring in laughter, and for 
what men were willing to pay for an honest grin, 
began to have incidents which more than satisfied 
Francois’s taste for adventure and greatly troubled 
Pierre. The little room of the two conjurers had 
flowers in the window, and a caged bird. These were 
Francois’s luxuries. Pierre did not care for them. 
He had begun to read books about the rights of man, 
and bits of “ The Friend of the People,” by Marat. 
When Francois first knew him he liked to gossip 
gravely of what went on, as to the changing fashions, 
or as to the new “ baptism ” of the streets, but of the 
serious aspect of the tumbling monarchy was not 
inclined to speak. At times, too, he let it be seen 
that he was well educated; but beyond this, Fran- 
cois still learned nothing of his past. One evening 
Francois, gaily whistling, and with Toto after him, 
turned the knob of their chamber door, There was some 
resistance. He called, “ Pierre! ” and the door yielded. 60 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
He went in. Two candles were burning on their 
little dining-table. Facing him, in a chair, sat the 
Crab, Quatre Pattes, the spine bent forward, the 
head tilted up to get sight of Pierre, who was lean- 
ing against the wall back of the door. Her eyes, 
a dusky red, were wide open to enlarge the view 
which the bend of her back limited. The beak 
between them was purple. Her mouth, grim and 
lipless, was set in deep, radiating wrinkles, and the 
toothless gums were moving as if she were chewing. 
Her two wrists rested on the curved handles of her 
short canes, and her outstretched hands, lean, eager, 
and deformed, were moving like the claws of some 
ravenous creature of the jungle. 
Francois looked from her to his partner, Despard. 
He was standing as if flattened, his eyes upon the 
woman, his palms, outspread, set hard on the wall 
behind him, a pitiful image of alarm and hatred. 
“ Mon Dim ! ” cried “ what is all this ? 
What does this she-devil want ? ” 
“ Want! I want money, vagabond thief ! I saw 
thee in the booth yesterday. We are honest, are 
we ? And I know him, too. Him ! ” and she pointed 
at Pierre, who murmured: 
“ Kill her! Take her away! ” 
Fran<jois laughed. “ Out of this, hag!” and 
he laughed again. 
“ I know that man,” she cried. “ Sacre, but he is 
scared, the coward! I remind him of old times. He 
must pay — pay, or I will fetch the police. He knows 
me. Out with the money ! Empty your pockets ! ” 
Framjois shouted: “What, Mother Puzzlebones, THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
61 
dost thou think to scare an old dog of the Cite ? Art 
fit to be mother-in-law of Satan. Out with thee! 
Out of this, I say ! Here is to buy flesh to cover thy 
rattlebone carcass.” He threw two francs before her. 
The Crab stood up, and beat with her sticks on the 
table. “No francs! It is gold I will have — red 
louis, or I will set the police on thee, and on the fat- 
fool yonder. I will find that girl of his. She must 
be fit to sell by this time. A beauty was her mother.” 
“ Kill her! Kill her! ” said Pierre, wrath in his 
words, fear in their tremor. Of a sudden he seized 
a stool, and, mad with some memory of wrong, 
leaped forward. The Crab faced him with courage, 
as Francis tore away the stool, and pushed him 
back. “No murder here. Keep quiet, idiot! And 
as to thee, thou gutter Crab, out of this! ” 
Upon this, Toto set up a dismal howl, and made 
at the old woman. A rousing whack from her stick 
sent him howling under the bed, where he sat pen- 
sive. Then she turned on Framjois. 
“Look here,” she said; “thou hast some sense. 
That ass has none. Let us talk. Thou canst give 
me money or let it alone. You both know me. A 
word to the police, and up goes the little show.” 
“ Very likely.” 
“ Then make a bargain. Pay me, and I hold my 
tongue. No use to call me names.” 
“Well, let us have peace, and talk,” said Francis. 
This threat of the Crab as to the officers of the law 
might not be vain; she was quite too well informed; 
and there was Pierre, white and furious. Frangois 
foresaw tragedy j comedy was more to his taste. 62 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“What wilt thou have, Quatre Pattes? We are 
poor. Why threaten thy old lodger?” He was 
eager to get her away, in order to understand mat- 
ters. Too much was dark. Pierre said no more, 
but stood staring, angry and yet afraid. 
“ A louis a week,” cried the Crab. 
“ Nonsense! These good geese would soon die 
of starvation, and then no more golden eggs. Here 
are ten francs. Each week thou shalt have five.” 
“ Norn de Dieu ! ” groaned Pierre; u and to kill her 
were so easy ! ” 
“ Not for thee, coward! ” shouted the Crab, knock- 
ing her sticks together for emphasis. 
“ Kill her! ” said Pierre, faintly. 
“ Nonsense! ” said Francis. “ Come to the booth 
for it, Crab; not here, mind you, not here — not a 
sou here.” 
“Adieu, my jolly bankers,” cried the hag. “For 
the day this will do; then we shall see.” With this, 
the sticks rattled on the tiled floor, and she pattered 
out of the door, which Francois shut after her. 
“ Behold us, netted like larks! ” he said, and broke 
into a laugh. 
“It is not a thing to laugh at,” said Pierre, the 
sweat rolling down his face. 
“No; perhaps not. Let us take counsel. But 
what troubled thee? Shall a crippled old woman 
ruin two strong men?” 
Pierre groaned, and let his face fall on his palms, 
making no reply. 
“ What is it, my friend ? ” 
“ I cannot tell thee now. It were useless; it would THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
63 
not help. God has made the little one safe — safe. 
One of these days I may have the courage to tell 
thee.” 
His natural reticence and some too dreadful past 
combined to keep him silent. Francis was puzzled. 
He knew the man to be a coward; but his timidity, 
followed by this sudden outbreak of murderous fury, 
was inexplicable; nor did he comprehend it fully 
until later events revealed to him, as he looked back 
at this scene, the nature of the morbid changes which 
his partner’s character had already begun to feel. 
“ What does it all mean?” he demanded. 
“Ask me no more,” said Despard. “Not now — 
not now. She cannot hurt me or mine. It is hate, 
not fear, I have. But thou ? Why didst thou pay ? ” 
“ For good enough reasons,” said Frangois; “ but 
I can take care of myself.” He was by no means 
sure of this. Nevertheless, he laughed as usual, and 
said: “ Let us have supper; I cannot think when I 
am empty.” 
No more was said. They ate in silence, and then 
Pierre turned to his “ L’Ami du Peuple,” and Fran- 
gois to a pipe and to his thoughts. Must he give up 
the booth, and wander? He knew the Crab well 
enough to fear her. The price of her silence would 
rise, and to deny her would bring about disaster. 
He began to wish he had been honest. It was too 
late now; but France was large, and, after all, he 
could laugh at his own embarrassment. There was 
time to think; he had bought that. 
They spoke no further of the Crab; but from this 
time Pierre became depressed and suspicious at every 64 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
knock on the door. Quatre Pattes came to the booth 
with her usual eagerness, and if she chanced to be 
full of bad brandy, and too noisy and unappeasable, 
Francois paid her something out of his own share of 
their growing profits. Had he been alone, he might 
have done otherwise; but Pierre was timid, watchful, 
and talked sadly of the little one at Sevres. How 
should he manage if the show came to an end ? It 
had not been worth much until Francis joined him. 
Before that he had been starving himself to keep 
the child in careful hands. He became increasingly 
melancholy, and this especially in the early mornings. 
He was apt to say at night, “A day is gone, and 
nothing has happened.” 
Framjois was courageous, and mocked a little at the 
jade Fortune. “What could happen?” And yet 
this shrinking little man, fat, doleful, and full of 
fears, sat heavily upon him; and there, too, was this 
child whom he had never seen. Teste,! The children 
he had known at the asylum were senseless, greedy 
little cattle, all of one make. Perhaps this girl at 
Sevres was no better. IX 
In which Frangois tells the fortune of the Marquis de 
Ste. Luce and of Robespierre, and has his own fortune 
told, and of how Despard saw a man of whom he was 
afraid. 
QOIS was soon to be further amazed 
by Pierre Despard. To the last of his life, 
mrv. Francis remembered that day. A cool 
yp|§»l*K October had stripped the king’s chest- 
nut-trees of their glory as clean as the 
king himself was soon to be shorn. The leaves were 
rustling at evening across the Place Louis XV, and 
covering the water of the canals. Here, of late, the 
tent-booth had been set up for the benefit of the bet- 
ter society, which still wore the white cockade of the 
Bourbons. A merry group of the actors of the Come- 
die was waiting to see Francis, the maker of faces. 
There were Chenard of the Opera Comique; Fleury 
and Saint-Prix, whose gaiety no prison in after days 
could lessen, and no fear of death abate. “ Behold, 
there is the great Talma,” said Pierre, peeping out; 
“ and the aristos are many to-day. Art ready, Fran- 
cois ? ” 
Frangois was delighted. The great Talma here, 
65 66 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
and actually to see him — Francis! He had of late 
been acquiring stage ambitions, and taking great 
pains to improve the natural advantages of a face 
quite matchless in Paris. 
Despard peeped in again. “Yes, they 
talk of thee, and there are many in the crowd. They 
gather to see Talma. There are Jacobins, and thy 
friends the aristocrats. Make thou haste. Art 
ready ? ” 
“ Yes, yes,” said Francis. He felt it to be a great, 
an unusual occasion. He had a bright idea. He 
struck with a stick three times on the floor of the 
booth, the traditional signal at the Theatre Fran9ais 
for the curtain to rise. A roar of applause outside 
rewarded his shrewd sense of what was due to this 
audience. 
“ Tiens ! That is good,” said La Rive, 
The slit in the curtain opened, and, framed in the 
black drapery, appeared a face which seemed to have 
come out of the canvas of Holbein. It was solemn, 
and yet grotesque, strong of feature, the face, beard, 
and hair white with powder; the eyes were shut. 
“ Mon Dieusaid Talma, “ what a mask! ’T is stern 
as fate.” The crowd stayed motionless and silent. 
“ Look! look! ” said Fleury. “ ’T is a study. To 
smile with closed eyes! Didst thou ever see a man 
smile in sleep, Talma?” 
It was pretty and odd. Little curves of mirthful 
change crawled downward from the eyes over the 
large, grave features; the ears moved; the eyes opened; 
and a storm of liberal laughter broke up the quiet 
lines of cheek and mouth. “’T IS A GARGOYLE COME DOWN FROM TUE ROOF OF ST. JACQUES.’ THE ADVENTURES OP FRANQOIS 
69 
“ Bravo! bravo! ” cried Talma and the other 
actors, while the crowd burst into a roar of applause 
and responsive mirth. 
“ Angels of fun! ” cried Saint-Prix, “ what a face ! 
’T is a gargoyle come down from the roof of St. 
Jacques de la Boueherie. Does it go back of nights? 
I wonder what next will he do ? ” 
“ Tiens ! Wait,” said La Rive. 
The white face seen above in the slit of the black 
curtain became suddenly serious, with moveless eyes 
looking past the audience as if into futurity. Below 
appeared two large hands, scrupulously clean, while 
the man’s figure remained hidden. There was some- 
thing impressive in this artful pose. 
“ Fortunes, fortunes, messieurs et dames! ” cried 
Pierre. “ Who will have his hand read ? Avancez — 
come 1 ” 
A shrill voice on the outskirts of the crowd cried, 
“ Read Louis Capet’s I ” The white cockades turned 
to look. “It were easy to read,” said a tall Jacobin. 
A gentleman in the black garments of the unprogres- 
sive noblesse turned: “ Your card, citizen, or monsieur, 
as you like.” The crowd was scarcely stirred by this 
politely managed difference. It was the year of duels. 
Two lads pushed forward their tutor, an abbe, as 
was plain to see, although few clerics still ventured 
to wear their old costume. He laughed awkwardly, 
and timidly laid a fat, well-fed hand on that of Fran- 
cis’s. The grave face of the reader of palms fell 
forward to see the fateful lines. For a moment 
Francis was silent; then the voice which came from 
his stolid visage was monotonously solemn, and the 70 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
words dropped from it one by one, as if they were 
the mechanical product of some machine without 
interest in the results of its own action. One long, 
lean forefinger traversed the abbe’s palm, and paused. 
“ An easy life thou hast had. A woman has troubled 
it.” The two pupils were delighted $ the crowd 
laughed. “The line of life is broken — broken” — 
Framjois’s hands went through the pantomime of the 
snapping of a thread — “ like that.” The abb 6 drew 
back, and could not be persuaded to hear further. 
Again there was a pause. A grisette advanced smil- 
ing, and was sent away charmed with the gifts a 
pleasant future held in store. Pierre exhorted for 
a time in vain. Presently the crowd made way. A 
slight man in breeches and silk stockings came for- 
ward ; he was otherwise dressed in the extreme of the 
fashion still favored by the court party, but wore no 
cockade, and carried two watches, the heavy seals of 
which Frantjois greatly desired to appropriate. His 
uneasy eyes were covered with spectacles, and around 
them his sallow complexion deepened to a 
dull green. Altogether this was a singular and not a 
pleasant face, or so, at least, thought the palm-reader, 
a part of whose cunning was to study the expressions 
of those who asked his skill. The man who laid his 
hand on Francis’s looked up at the motionless visage 
of the ex-thief. Frangois said: “ Is it for the citizen 
alone to hear, or for all ? ” 
u For me — for me.” 
Francis’s voice fell to a low whisper. 
a Let the past go,” said the listener j u what of the 
future ? ” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
71 
“ It is dark. The lines are many. They are — citi- 
zen, thou wilt be a ruler, powerful, dreaded. Thou wilt 
have admiration, fame, and at last the hatred of man.” 
“I — I — what nonsense! Then ?”— and he waited, 
— “ then ? What then ? What comes after ? ” 
“ I will tell thee ”; and Frantjois whispered. 
“No more — no more; enough of such foolish- 
ness !” He was clearly enough disturbed by what 
he had heard. “ Thou must think men fools.” 
“ Fate is always a fool, citizen; but the fools all 
win, soon or late.” 
“ That, at least, is true, Master Palmister.” Then 
a pair of sinister eyes, set deep behind spectacles, 
sought those of Francis. “ Thou hast a strange face, 
Master Palm-reader. Dost thou believe what thou 
dost make believe to read on men’s palms ? ” 
“ Sometimes.” 
“ Now — now ? — this time ? ” 
“Yes; I believe.” 
“ I shall not forget thee.” 
Frangois felt something like a chill between his 
shoulders. The Jacobin stepped aside after deposit- 
ing an ample fee in the basket which Toto presented. 
There was a murmur in the crowd. Several per- 
sons looked with curious eyes after the retreating 
man, and the conjurer heard some one say: “ Tiens ! 
C’est drole. It is Robespierre.” His was at this time 
not more than a well-known name. For a minute 
no one else came forward. Francois saw Pierre slip 
hastily into the tent; he knew not why. A gentle- 
man came up gaily. He was dressed splendidly, 
with no regard for the leveling tastes of the day. 72 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“ The deuce! ” he said quickly; “ you are my 
thief! ” 
uDe grdce, monsieur!” exclaimed Francis; “you 
will get me into trouble.” 
“Not I. Happy to meet you. I am myself fond 
of palmistry. Come, read me my hand.” 
Francois bent over the palm. He began aloud: 
“ Ah, here have been many loves.” Then his voice 
fell. “ Monsieur is a good swordsman.” 
“ So-so,” said the gentleman. 
“ Monsieur has been unfortunate in his duels.” 
“ Mon Bieu! Yes; I always kill people.” 
“Monsieur has one remorse.” 
“ Sapristi! Thou art clever, and I lucky to have 
but one. Go on ; }t is vastly amusing. Shall I live 
to be old 1 My people do.” 
“Monsieur will have troubles, but he will live to 
be old — very old.” 
“Will he, indeed? I hardly like that. If I were 
you, I would tell more agreeable fortunes. To out- 
live the joys of life, to be left a stranded wreck, 
while the world goes by gay and busy—pshaw! I 
like not that. You do it well. Let me read your 
own palm. I have a taste for this art.” 
Franqois wras at once interested. The gentleman's 
strong left hand took that of the thief, and with a 
wandering forefinger he ran over the lines of the 
palm. He let it fall, and looked downward at his 
own hand. “ It is strange that we shall meet again, 
and in an hour of danger. You will be fortunate, 
and I shall not. You will have — ” 
“ Tenez, monsieur — stop ! ” cried Francois; “ I will THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
73 
hear no more”; and he drew his hands within the 
tent-folds. 
u Dame ! and you are really a believer in it all, my 
good thief? Belief is out of fashion. I hope you did 
tell that cursed Jacobin he would go to a place he 
does n’t believe in, but which is a little like France 
to-day. Come and see me if ever you are in trouble 
and this trade comes to an end. I like men who can 
laugh. ’T is a pretty talent, and rather gone out 
just now. I am the Marquis de Ste. Luce — or was. 
Come and laugh for me, and tell me your story.” He 
let fall a gold louis in Toto’s basket, and elbowed his 
way through the crowd, with “ Pardon, monsieur,” to 
white cockades, and scant courtesy to the Jacobins 
and the demi-constitutionnels, who were readily known 
by their costumes. 
As the marquis ceased to speak, Francois heard a 
singular noise in the tent back of him. He withdrew 
his head to see the cause, and a moment later, reap- 
pearing, said he must be excused, because his friend 
was ill. The crowd broke up. Within the tent lay 
Pierre on the ground, in a fit. Francis, greatly 
alarmed and utterly at a loss, threw water in his face, 
and waited. In a few moments it was over, and the 
man, flushed and breathing deeply, lay with red froth 
on his lips, as if in a deep sleep. He was no longer 
convulsed; but what further to do the partner knew 
not, and sat beside him, not more competent to deal 
with this novel situation than was Toto, who walked 
about, and scratched his nose, and gave it up. An 
hour went by with Pierre’s head resting on Frantjois’s 
lap. 74 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
At last Despard opened his eyes. “Take him 
away,” he said. The man was delirious. 
“ Who?” 
“Take him away. Will he kill me? He killed 
her.” A half-hour he wandered in mind, while Fran- 
cois bathed his flushed face. Then he drew a deep 
breath, and said: “ What is this ? Where am I ? ” 
Francois replied: “ Thou hast had a fit.” 
“A fit? Yes; I have them — not often. I remem- 
ber now. Has he gone, that devil ?—that marquis ? ” 
“Who? Ste. Luce? Was it he that troubled 
thee ? ” 
“ Yes; he.” 
“ But what then ? ” 
By and by Pierre sat up. Seeing him to be quite 
himself, but staring about as if in fear, Francis 
said: 
“ Come, now; I must have the whole story. What 
the mischief has this fine gentleman done to thee? 
I am out of patience with thy tiresome mysteries. I 
know him; we have met before. Perhaps I can help 
thee.” 
“ Thou?” 
Pierre lay back on the floor, and covered his face. 
“Mon Dieu 1 ” he cried, “ why wilt thou force me to 
talk of it ? Oh, to hate, and to be afraid! ” He 
started up. “I am afraid.” 
“If I hated a man,” said Francois, “sacrS bleu! I 
would twist his neck.” 
“ If I could! if I could! I am not like thee. I am 
— am a coward. That ?s the truth.” 
“Dame! that is curious.” He regarded the fat THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
75 
little man with attentive eyes. “Suppose we have 
it all out, and get done with it.” 
“Done with it!” 
“Yes; done with it! Hast thou often had these 
fits before ? ” 
“Yes; and then I am better for a while.” 
“ Tell me all about this man. I will take care of 
thee.” 
“ No; God did not: thou canst not.” 
“ Then we must separate. I am tired of thy non- 
sense, and I do not care a rap how soon this business 
ends, what with your cursed melancholy and that 
jade Quatre Pattes. Now, out with it! ” 
Pierre, seated on the floor of the booth, red-eyed 
and dejected, looked up piteously at his questioner. 
“ If I tell thee all, thou wilt despise me.” 
“Not I. Go on! If thou canst speak out like a 
man, I may be able to help thee; but if thou art of a 
mind to hold thy tongue, it were better we parted. I 
am tired of thy folly.” 
Thus urged, Pierre told his story, reluctant, with 
bowed head, and at times in tears. Frangois sat over 
him on a stool, now and then asking a question, or 
waiting patiently when Pierre, choked by overmaster- 
ing emotions, was silent for a while. 
“ I have been unhappy and unlucky from the time 
I can first remember,” said Pierre. “ My people be- 
longed to the lesser noblesse, but my father was poor 
—oh, very poor. We had been ruined folks away 
there in Normandy for half a century, only a bit of 
farm and vineyard left to us. My mother was of the 
bourgeoisie, foolish and pretty. She died young, and 76 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
I was left the only child. My father treated me ill. I 
had no courage, he said. It was true. As I grew up, I 
was timid like a girl, and fearful of quarrels. When 
I was about twenty years old I had a trouble with a 
brother of this marquis. He struck me with his whip 
because of something I said. My father learned that 
I had excused myself, and was wild with rage. It 
was my bourgeois mother, he said; we had lost all 
but honor, and now that too was gone. He died not 
long after, and I, with a few hundred francs, was 
driven out to care for myself. The marquis had a 
mortgage on the farm. I went to a village near by, 
and lived awhile as I could until I was down to my 
last sou. I worked like a peasant in the fields; I was 
the servant at an inn. At last a mountebank com- 
pany attracted me, and in despair I went with them 
to take care of the horses which served them in their 
performances. By and by I learned sleight of hand, 
and fared better. At last I married a girl who danced 
in our company. She was pretty,—oh, more than 
pretty,— and clever, too. When we came again to 
our town, a notary offered me a petty clerk’s place, 
and I was well contented to settle down. My wife 
was too eager for the society of the bourgeoisie, and 
they would have none of that of the dancing-girl. 
Then, unhappily, this marquis saw my wife, and how 
I know not, but his fine clothes and cunning were too 
much for one who was eager for a society she could 
not have. I was busy, and often absent collecting 
small debts. No one warned me. I was satisfied, 
and even put by a little money. 
u There was a woman in the village, Mme. Quintette, THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
77 
a dressmaker, a shameless creature of bad life. She 
might have been then some fifty years old. ’T is now 
twelve years ago. At her house the marquis met my 
wife. One day my Renee was gone, and this Quin- 
tette with her. It is she who is this Quatre Pattes.” 
“ The deuce! ” cried Francis. “ Now I see.” 
“ More than a year went by. Thou wouldst have 
killed the man. I could not. I am a coward, Franyois 
—a coward! God made me so; I can’t help it. One day 
an infant was brought to my door, with a note. Mon 
Dieu, such a note! The dying mother in the hospital 
with her last money paid a good sister to take the 
child to me — to me, of all men ! And would I par- 
don her? Francis, it was that devil’s babe and hers. 
Would I forgive her, and keep it? Wouldst thou 
have kept it ? ” 
“ No,” said Framjois; “ not I.” 
“ I did! I did ! It was like her, all but the eyes. 
I grew to love it. Then there was an accident, a fall, 
and the little maid is crippled for life. It seemed 
horrible, but now I thank God, because she is safe 
from the baseness of men. I wanted to die, but I must 
live; she has no other friend.” 
Francis sat still, pitiful, and deep in thought. At 
last he said: “Why were you so terribly afraid of 
that woman? She could do no worse than ruin our 
business.” 
“I — hast thou ever been afraid thou wouldst mur- 
der some one ? I was. I would have done it in a 
minute hadst not thou come in.” 
“ Sac & papier! Afraid of thyself! How queer! 
Thou wert afraid of thyself?” 78 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“Yesj I am—I was—I am often afraid of myself.” 
“ Let ns forget it.” 
“ I cannot. What can I do ? ” 
“Do? Nothing.” 
“ But that man — ” 
“ Well, thou art helpless. I should not be. Forget. 
Thy chance may come.” He was at the end of his wis- 
dom. He pitied this weak-hearted coward who so 
frankly avowed his defect. “ speak of it no 
more, Pierre, or not now. But what brought you to 
Paris ? Let us have it all, and get done with it.” 
“ My poor little humpback was hardly six years old 
when she came to me, crying, to know why the village 
children would not play with her. She was a hump- 
back and a bastard. What was ‘bastard’? I have 
always fled from trouble. One day I took the child 
and what little I had, and was away to Paris. God 
knows how it hurt me to hear every evening how she 
had been mocked and tormented; one is so foolishly 
tender. In this great city I sought work, and starved. 
And when at last she was fading before my eyes, I 
stole — my God, I stole! ” 
“Dame! thou art particular. Must a man starve?” 
“ When I got money out of a full purse I took, I set 
up our little business, and then I found thee. And 
this is all. I dare say I shall feel better to have told 
some one. I did not want to steal. I did not steal 
after I began with the booth, unless I was in need— 
oh, sorely in need. It was so on that fortunate day 
when I was saved by thee. In thy place I should 
have kept the old fishwife’s purse.” 
“ And let me swing ? ” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
79 
“Yes—perhaps; I don’t know. I — it is well for 
me thou wert not a coward.” 
“ Sacristie! It appears that not to be a coward has 
its uses. Now Ion jour and adieu to the whole of this 
business. Let the miserable past go. ’T is bad com- 
pany, and not amusing. Have no fearj I will take 
care of thee. Come, let us go home.” 
“ Thou wilt look about a little before we go ? ” 
“Toto, he is mad, this man.” 
“1 sometimes think I am. At night, in my dreams, 
I have him by the throat, and he laughs, and I cannot 
hold him. I wake up, and curse in the darkness be- 
cause I cannot kill him. And then I know it is a debt 
never to be paid — never.” 
Frantjois had had enough of the small man’s griefs. 
Contempt and pity were strangely mingled as he lis- 
tened to his story. 
“I shall let thee talk no more,” he said. “But mille 
tonnerres! I cannot help thee to go mad. Let us go 
and wander in the country to-morrow, thou and I and 
Toto. It will comfort thee. But no more of this; I 
will not stand it.” 
The advice was wholesome, and, as usual, Pierre 
accepted the orders of his more sturdy-minded friend X 
How Pierre became a Jacobin and liow a nation became 
insane. 
HLTHOUGH the marquis was not again 
upon the scene, as the months went 
by Despard became by degrees more 
gloomy. At night, in place of the gay 
little cafe, he went out to the club of 
the Jacobins, and fed full of its wild declamations 
against the emigres and the aristocrats. It amused 
Fran901s, who saw no further ahead than other men. 
Despard came home loaded with gazettes and pam- 
phlets, and on these be fed bis excitement long after 
bis partner was asleep. 
When, as time went by, Pierre’s vagaries increased, 
Fran9ois found in them less subject for mirth. The 
fat little man sat up later and later at night. At 
times he read; at others he walked about muttering, 
or moving his lips without uttering a sound. What 
disturbed Fran9ois most was that the poodle now and 
then showed fear of Pierre, and would no longer obey 
him as he had been used to do. 
Meanwhile, as Pierre still attended sedulously to 
business, Fran9ois could find no fault. He himself 
80 THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
81 
had become devoted to his art of palm-reading. He 
bought at the stalls old books, Latin and French, 
which treated of the subject, and tried to keep up the 
name his odd ways had made so profitable. Deceit 
was a part of his working capital; but deceit and 
credulity are apt to go together, as a great man has 
well said. Not for many louis would the conjurer 
have let any one read again the lines of his own hand. 
When Despard began to teach him the little he him- 
self knew of palmistry, it had caused interest, and 
after a while a half-belief. This grew as he saw the 
evident disturbance to which the use of his art gave 
rise in certain of those who at first appeared to look 
upon it as an idle jest. The imaginative have need 
to be wary, and this man was imaginative, and had 
the usual notions of the gambler and thief as to omens 
and luck. I have said he had no definite working 
conscience. I have also said that he possessed an in- 
born kindness of heart; he had a long memory for 
benefits, and a short one for injuries. His courage 
was of fine quality: not even Quatre Pattes could 
terrify him. 
The politics of the time were becoming month by 
month more troublous to such as kept their heads 
steady in the amazing tumble of what for centuries 
had been on top, and the rise of that which had been 
as long underneath. The increasing interest of Pierre 
in all that went on surprised Francis, and sometimes, 
as I have said, amused him. He could not compre- 
hend why he should care whether the king ruled, or the 
Assembly. This mighty drama was nothing to him. 
He paid no taxes; he toiled not, nor spun, except nets 82 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
of deceit; and whether or not commerce died and the 
plow stood idle in the furrow was to him of no moment. 
Meanwhile, before the eyes of a waiting, wondering 
world historic fate was shuffling the cards as neither 
war nor misrule had shifted them for many a day. 
Knave and king, spade and club, were now up, now 
down. Every one was in a new place. The old sur- 
names were replaced by classical appellations. Streets, 
palaces, and cities were rebaptized with prenommal 
republican adjectives. Burgundy, Anjou, Navarre, 
and the other ancient provinces, knew no more their 
great names heroically famous. 
All men were to be equal; all men were free to be 
what they could. But the freedom of natural or ac- 
quired inequality was not to be recognized. There 
were new laws without end. The Jacobin added a 
social creed. All men must tutoyer. “ Your Majesty ” 
was no more to be used. Because the gentles said 
“thou” and “thee” to one another and to an inferior, 
all men must “thou” as a sign that all are on a level. 
A bit of paper was to be five francs—and take care 
of thy head if thou shouldst venture to doubt its value. 
As to all else, men accepted the numberless and be- 
wildering decrees of the Assembly. But the laws of 
commerce no ruler can break. These are despotic, 
changeless, and as old as the act of barter between 
man and man. The assignats fell in value until two 
hundred francs would scarce buy a dinner. There, 
too, was a new navy and a new army, with confusing 
theories of equal rights for sailor, soldier, and captain. 
A noble desire arose everywhere to exercise the new 
functions. What joy to cast a ballot, to act the part THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
83 
of officials, to play at soldiering ! All the cross dogs 
in France are unchained and the muzzles off; and 
some are bloodhounds. What luxury to be judge, 
jury, and hangman, like the noble of long ago! 
Even childhood caught the temper of the time. It 
played at being officer and prisoner, built and tore 
down bastilles, and at last won attention and a law all 
to itself when some young ruffians hung one of their 
number in good earnest for an aristocrat. 
However indifferent was Francis at this time, the 
shifting drama amused him as some monstrous bur- 
lesque might have done. Its tragedies were as yet 
occasional, and he was by nature too gay to be long 
or deeply impressed. There was none he loved in 
peril, and how to take care of Francois his life had 
taught him full well. 
“ Allons zi gaiement!” he cried, in the tongue of his 
old quarter; and kept a wondering, anxious eye on 
Pierre. XI 
The juggling firm of Despard, Francois & Co. is broken 
up—Despard goes into politics, and Frangois becomes 
a fencing-master. 
January, 1791, Francois, having of late 
||| I |f§| found business slack, had moved to the 
fj|| I open place in front of the Palais Royal. 
/PL Jlll'W He had taught Toto new tricks—to 
shoulder a musket and to die pour la 
patrie. Time was telling men’s fortunes quite too fast 
for comfort. Neither his old devices nor Toto’s re- 
cently acquired patriotism was of much avail. More- 
over, Pierre was losing interest in the booth as he 
became absorbed in politics. 
“ Thou wilt not go to thy sacr6 club, Pierre,” said 
Francois, one night late in February. “ Here are two 
days thou hast left us, the patriot Toto and me, to feed 
thee and make sous for the poor little maid at Sevres.” 
“ She is not at Sevres.” 
“ Why not ? Thou hast not said a word to me of 
this.” 
“No; I had more important matters to think of.” 
Francois, who was tranquilly smoking his pipe, 
84 THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
85 
looked op at his partner. The man had lately worn 
a look of self-importance. 
“ W ell, what else ? ” 
“ The sisters are aristocrats. A good citoyenne hath 
her. I shall give up the show. The country calls me, 
Pierre Despard, to save her. The great Robespierre 
hath asked me to go into Normandy, to Musillon, 
whence I came. I am to organize clubs of Jacobins.” 
He spoke with excitement, striding to and fro. He 
declared that he was not afraid now of any one. To 
serve France was to have courage. 
“ And how as to money ? ” asked Francois. 
He said his expenses would be paid by the clubs. 
Barnave, Duport, and the deputies of the Right must 
be taught a lesson. There must be no more kings. 
The people must rule—the people! He declaimed 
wildly. 
“ Fichtre! ” cried Francois, laughing. “ It does seem 
to me that they rule just now.” 
Pierre went on with increasing excitement; and 
would not Francois go with him ? 
“Go with thee? Thou sayest we shall be deputies 
in the new Convention. A fine thing that! And 
Toto too, I suppose ? Not I. I am an aristocrat. I 
like not thy Robespierre. As to the show, it pays no 
longer, and I have greased the claws of the Crab until 
there is no more grease left. I shall take to the streets, 
Toto and I. And so thon art to be a great man, and 
to play poodle on thy hind legs for Petion and the 
mob ? ” 
Pierre was offended. He rose and stood glaring at 
Francois with wide-open eyes; then he said, as if to 86 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
himself: ‘‘The marquis is near Evreux. Let him 
take heed! ” 
u Mon Dim! He will eat thee as he would the frogs 
of his moat, that man! I am not of those who fear, 
but if I had angered him—” 
“ I have named him to the great Robespierre, the 
just, the good. He will remember him.” 
“ Then go ; and the devil take the whole lot of you ! ” 
“ I shall go. But do not say thou art an aristocrat, 
for then I must hate thee.” 
“ Grand merci! Thou poor, fat little pug, canst thou 
hate ? ” 
“ Aye, as hell hates.” Upon this Toto took refuge 
under his master’s bed. 
Francois rose, and, standing in front of the flushed, 
fat little man, set a hand on each of Pierre’s shoulders 
and stopped his excited march. 
“ I cannot understand thee. I never could contrive 
to hate even a gendarme, and if hell hates, I know not. 
Thou art helpless as a turtle that is on his back. What 
use to kick? No; do not answer me. Hear me out. 
I shall go my way—thou thy way. I served thee a 
good turn once, and thou hast helped me to a liv- 
ing. Now I like not thy ways; thou art going mad, 
I think.” 
“ Perhaps—perhaps,” returned Pierre, gloomily. 
“Well, c'estfini—'t is done. Now to settle.” 
They divided their spare cash; and after that Pierre 
went to his club, and Francois to bed and a dreamless 
sleep. 
In the morning he rose early, left his share of the 
rent on the table, and with a little bag of clothes, and “HE PAID LN ADVANCE THE CUSXOMAKY DENIEK 1 DIEU.’ THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
89 
Toto after him, walked away across the Seine, and soon 
found a small room under the roof. He paid in ad- 
vance the customary denier d Dieu, and settled down 
to think. 
He was tired of the show, and meant to resume his 
old trade. His conscience, or so much as he had, was 
at peace; all France was plundering. Now the nobles 
were robbed, and now the church. 
“ The world is on my side,” he laughed, as he sat 
with Toto on his knees, looking over a wide prospect 
of chimney-pots and tiles. 
Thus began again the life of the thief; but now, 
thanks to his long training as a juggler, he was amaz- 
ingly expert. He took no great risks, but the frequent 
tumults of the streets were full of chances, although 
it must be said that purses were thinner, watches and 
gold snuff-boxes rarer, and caution less uncommon 
than it had once been. If business prospered, he and 
Toto took long holidays in the country, and did a little 
hunting of rabbits; for the gamekeeper was no longer 
a person to be dreaded. Sometimes, lying on the turf, 
he thought how pleasant would be a bit of garden, and 
assurance of good diet and daily work to his taste. I 
fear it would scarcely have been long to his taste. 
When something like a chance came, he could not 
make up his mind to accept the heaven-sent offer. 
He was to see many things and suffer much before his 
prosperous hour arrived. 
One fine day in April, Francois, with whom of late 
fortune had quarreled, was seated in the sun on a 
bench in the now ill-tended garden of the Luxembourg. 
The self-made difficulties of the country were affecting THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
90 
more and more the business of the honest, and of that 
uncertain guild which borrows but never returns. 
He had a way of taking Toto into his counsels. 
“ What shall we do, little devil ? ” The poodle barked. 
“No. These accursed Jacobins are ruining France. 
What, knock a man on the head at night! Bad dog, 
hast thou no morals 1 Va done! Go to. Thou hast 
not my close experience of the lantern, and stone 
walls for a home I like not. Work, thou sayest? 
Too late; there is work for no one nowadays. Thou 
wilt end badly, little monster.” 
Toto whined, and having no more to say, fell asleep. 
At this moment Francois, looking up, saw go by a 
young woman in black, and with her a boy of perhaps 
ten years. On the farther side was a tall, well-dressed 
man of middle age, whom, as he was looking away, 
Francois did not recognize. Some bright thing fell 
unnoticed from the woman’s wrist, and lay in the sun. 
“ Hist, Toto ! Look there—quick ! ” In a moment the 
dog was away, and back again, with a small miniature 
set in gold and surrounded by pearls. It was the por- 
trait of a young officer. Francois hastily put it back 
into the dog’s mouth, saying: “ Go to sleep ! Down ! 
down quickly! ” The dog, well taught, accepted the 
trust, and dropped as if in slumber, his head on his 
paws, while his master studied the weathercocks on 
the old gray palace. A moment later both the man 
and the woman turned to look for the lost miniature. 
Then Francois saw that it was his old acquaintance 
the marquis. He had more than once seen him in 
the garden, where he was fond of walking; but the 
great seigneur had passed him always without notice. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
91 
The boy ran back ahead of his grandfather, and com- 
ing to Francois, said innocently: 
“ Monsieur, have you seen a little picture madame 
let fall ? It is so big, and I saw it only just now on 
her wrist. Please to help us to look for it. It is my 
father; he is dead.” 
After the boy came the woman, looking here and 
there on the gravel. 
“ Dame de Dieu! she is beautiful,” murmured 
Francois; “ and that sacre marquis ! ” 
The voice he heard was sweet and low, and tender 
with regret at her loss. 
“ Has monsieur chanced to see a little miniature ? ” 
Monsieur was troubled, but his pocket and stomach 
were both empty. Monsieur was distressed. He had 
seen no miniature. 
Next came the marquis. 
“ Ho, ho ! ” he said pleasantly. u Here is the citi- 
zen my thief again. Have you seen a small minia- 
ture ? ” 
Francois had not. 
u Diable! ’T is a pity, monsieur. Well, pardon a 
ci-devant marquis, but I do think monsieur knows a 
little too much of that miniature for his eternal salva- 
tion. Also, monsieur does not lie as well as might be 
expected from one in his line of life.” 
Francois rose. He was embarrassed as he saw the 
tearful face of the woman. 
“ I was about to say I would look—I would search.” 
Ste. Luce smiled. “ Suppose we begin with you ? ” 
“ I have it not.” 
“Well, but where is it? I am not a man to be 92 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
trifled with. Come, quick, or I must ask the gen- 
darmes yonder for a bit of help.” 
Francois looked at him. There was menace in those 
cold gray eyes. Should he trust to his own long legs ? 
At this instant he heard a sob, and glancing to the 
right, saw the woman seated on the bench with her 
face in her hands, the little fellow at her side saying: 
“Do not cry, mama; the gentleman will help us.” 
The gentleman was ill clothed and seedy. He had 
seen women cry, but they were not like this woman. 
“ M. le Marquis does me injustice. Permit that my 
dog and I search a little.” 
The marquis smiled again. “ Pardieu! and if you 
search, and meanwhile take a fancy to run, your legs 
are long; but now I have you. How the deuce can I 
trust a thief ? ” 
The little lad looked up. “ I will go with monsieur 
to look—and the dog; we will find it, mama.” 
“ Monsieur may trust me; I will not run away,” said 
Francois. “ If monsieur desires to search me ? ” 
“ I do not search thieves.” 
Francois looked at this strangely quiet gentleman 
with the large, light-gray, unpleasant eyes, and then 
at the woman. 
“ Come, Toto; we must take a look.” 
The marquis stood still, quietly watching thief, dog, 
and boy. 
“ Renee,” he said, “ don’t make a fool of yourself.” 
Then from a distance the boy cried, “We found it, 
mama! ” and ran to meet her. 
The marquis took it as Francois rejoined the group. 
“ Ah, Master Thief, you are clever; but it is a little THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
93 
wet, this trifle, and warm too. The dog had it all the 
while in his mouth. He is well taught. Why the 
deuce did you give it up?’7 
The hoy began to understand this small drama. He 
had the courage of his breed, and the training. 
“Did you dare to steal my mama’s picture?” 
“ Yes; when she let it fall.” 
“I know now why you were glad to give it back. 
It was because she cried.” 
“ Yes; it was because she cried.” 
“ Ventre St. Gris! ” exclaimed the marquis, who was 
pleased to swear like Henry of Navarre. “You are a 
poor devil for a thief. You have temptations to be 
good. I never have them myself. I thank Heaven 
I have reasonably well used my opportunities to be 
agreeably wicked.” 
“ Father ! ” said the young woman, reproachfully; 
and then to Francois: “If you are a thief, still I 
thank you; I cannot tell you how much I thank you.” 
“ And how many louis do you expect, most magnani- 
mous of thieves ? ” said the marquis. 
The woman looked up again. “ Come to me to-mor- 
row ; I will find a way to help you.” 
Something of yearning, some sense of a void, some 
complexity of novel distress, arose in the thief’s mind. 
“ Mon IKeu! madame,” he said, turning toward her, 
without replying to the marquis, “you are a saint. I 
—I will think. I am not fit for such as you to 
talk to.” 
“ Quite true,” said the marquis. “ Hast thou thy 
purse, Renee ? I forgot mine.” 
“No, no,” she said. “Come and see us—Rue des 94 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Petits-Augustines—a great house with a gilded gate. 
You will come? I will say they are to let you in. 
Promise me that you will come.” 
“ And bring that poodle,” added the marquis; “ I 
will buy him.” 
Francois laughed outright—that merry laugh which 
half Paris had learned to like, till Paris tired of it and 
of its owner. 
“ Monsieur will pardon me. I cannot sell my only 
friend. Good day.” And he walked away, the boy 
crying after him: “You will come? Oh, you must 
come, because my mama says so.” 
The marquis muttered: 11 Animal! If I had your 
carcass—no, if I had had you awhile ago in Nor- 
mandy, your manners would have been bettered. But 
now the world is upside down. He will come, Renee. 
If thou art quit of him for two hundred francs and a 
few lost spoons, thou mayest rest thankful.” 
Francois moved moodily away. Something was 
wrong in his world; an angel coming into his crude 
life would not have disturbed him as this lady’s few 
kind words had done, and yet he had left her unan- 
swered. He knew he had been a fool, but knew not 
why. He had, too, a notion that he and this marquis 
would meet again, but for this he was not eager. He 
recalled the palm-reading. Had the woman been 
alone, he would probably have said a glad “Yes”; 
but now his inclinations to obey her were sadly diluted 
by feelings which he did not analyze, or perhaps could 
not have analyzed. He did not accept the hand thus 
stretched out to save him, but for many a day her 
tender eagerness and the pleading face which had so THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
95 
attracted him came before him at times with a look of 
reproach. Is it strange that this glimpse of a nobler 
nature and a better life than his own should have 
had an influence on this man quite the reverse of 
that which its good will sought to effect ? He cannot 
be said to have been refined, but he had in him tastes 
which are the germs of refinement, and which, when 
I knew him, had no doubt produced results. Prob- 
ably he was in 1791 a coarser person, but he must 
always have been a man who could be forced by 
circumstances to think. 
It may have been that the sense of a great gulf be- 
tween him and a world he was by nature inclined to 
like caused one of those rare spells of despair to 
which the gajr and over-sanguine are liable. Of course 
he had seen and for brief seasons shared the profligacy 
of the Cite,—his memoirs confess this with absolute 
frankness,—but these gross lapses had been rare and 
brief. Now he plunged headlong into the worst vile- 
ness of the most dissolute quarter, where few lived 
who were not saturated with crime. I have no desire 
to dwell on this part of his life. A month passed 
away, and he was beginning to suffer in health. This 
amazed him. He had not hitherto known a pang save 
that of hunger. He began to drink eau-de-vie to re- 
lieve his sense of impaired strength, and being off his 
guard and under the influence of the temporary mood 
of rashness which drink is apt to cause, he twice nar- 
rowly escaped arrest. 
Under the vivid impression thus created he was 
wandering homeward late at night to some low resort 
in the Cite, when in the Rue aux F&ves he heard a cry 96 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
in front of him. The moon was bright, and he saw a 
man set upon by two fellows. The person assailed 
was staggering from the blow of a club, and fell with 
the cry which the thief heard. Both bandits threw 
themselves upon him, and, as he unwisely struggled, 
Francois saw the glitter of a knife. Clearly this was 
no easy prey. As the three tumbled over in the mud 
of the street there was small chance for a decisive use 
of the blade. Francois, as I have said, had been al- 
ways free from crimes of violence, but this affair was 
none of his business, and had his pocket been full he 
might have left the ruffians and their prey unmolested. 
His purse, however, was down to the last sou, and 
here was a chance. 
He called, u Catch them, Toto ! ” and, leaping for- 
ward, seized one of the men by the throat and threw 
him on his back. The poodle took a good nip of the 
other rascal’s leg, and when the man broke away and, 
stumbling, ran, pursued him until recalled by Francois’s 
whistle. Meanwhile the assaulted man sat up, a bit 
dazed. The other fellow—it was he of the knife—was 
on his feet again, and at once turned furiously on 
the rescuer. Francois darted to one side, and, catch- 
ing him by the neck, throttled him savagely. His 
great length of arm made it impossible for the scamp, 
who was short and strong, to reach any vital organ. 
But he stabbed Francois’s shoulder over and over. 
Francois’s grip on the throat was weakening, when 
the victim, now on his feet, struck the man under the 
ear, and thus knocked him clean out of Francois’s fail- 
ing grip. He fell headlong, but was up and away in 
a moment, while a crowd began to collect. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
97 
“ Hi! it is Francois ! ” some one cried. 
u Quick! ” said the thief. u Room there ! Let us 
get out of this.” Seizing the man he had saved, he 
hustled his way through the crowd and hurried him 
toward the bridge. In a few minutes they were stand- 
ing alone by the river, amid the tombs back of Notre 
Dame. Then the man spoke: 
“ By Heaven! thou hast saved my life. Hallo ! thou 
art bleeding. Here! ” and he tied a handkerchief 
about his shoulder. “We shall be in luck to find a 
chaise. Wait! ” and he ran away. 
Francois’s head was dizzy. He sat on a tombstone, 
well sobered now, but bleeding freely. It was long 
before he heard a horse; and when in the chaise, 
where Toto promptly followed him, he fell back, and 
knew little more until they stopped in the Rue St. 
Honore. Here his new acquaintance got out, and 
soon returned with a glass of eau-de-vie. With this 
aid, and the arm of his host, Francois was able to 
reach a large room in the second story. He fell on a 
couch, and lay still while the other man ran out to 
find a surgeon. 
On his arrival, Francois was put to bed in an ad- 
joining room, and for two weeks of care and good 
diet had leave to meditate on the changeful chances of 
this wretched world. For a while he was too weak to 
indulge his customary keenness of curiosity. His 
host, M. Achille Gamel, paid him brief visits, and was 
singularly unwilling to talk one day, and the next 
sufficiently so for the patient to learn that he had been 
in the army as a maitre d’armes, and was now, in his 
own opinion, the best fencing-master in France. 98 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Through the partitions could be heard the click, click 
of the foils, and now and then the crack of pistols. 
After a fortnight Francois’s wounds were fairly- 
healed, and he began to get back his rosy complexion 
and his unfailing curiosity. 
One pleasant evening in June, Gamel appeared as 
usual. It was one of his days of abrupt speech. 
“ Art well ? ” 
“Yes.” 
“ Thou art soon mended.” 
“Yes.” His brevity begot a like form of answer, 
and Francois was now somewhat on his guard. 
“I pay my debts.” 
“ That is true.” 
“Now thou art well, what wilt thou do?” 
“ I—I—I shall go away.” 
“ Why didst thou help me ? ” 
“ My pocket and paunch were empty. It seemed a 
chance.” 
“ Thy two reasons are good. Who art thou ? ” 
“ Who is every one in the Cite ? A thief.” 
“ Diable! but thou art honest—in speech at least.” 
“Yes, sometimes. I was a conjurer too—for a 
while.” 
“Yes, yes, I remember now. Thou art the fellow 
with a laugh. I see not yet why thou hast helped me. 
Thou mightest easier have helped the rascals and 
shared their gains.” 
Francois began to be interested, and laughed a 
laugh which was the most honest of his possessions. 
“ I dislike clumsiness in my profession,” he said. 
“ Why should the brutality of war be brought into a. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
99 
peaceful occupation ? ” He was half in earnest, half 
in jest. 
“ That is a third reason, and a good one.” It was 
difficult to surprise Gamel. “ Suppose we talk busi- 
ness,” he added. 
“ Mine or thine ? ” 
“Mine. A moment, Citizen Francois—permit me. 
Pray stand up a moment.” 
Francois rose as the fencing-master produced a 
tape-measure. “ Permit me,” and with no more words 
he set one end of the tape on Francois’s shoulder and 
carried the length of it to his finger-tips. 
Francois stood still, wondering what it all meant. 
“ The deuce! ” said Gamel, slowly rolling up the 
measuring-tape. 
“ Well, what is it ? What is wrong ? ” 
“Wrong? Nothing. It is astonishing ! ” 
“What?” 
“ This arm of thine.” 
“Why?” 
“ It is one and a half inches longer than mine.” 
“Well?” 
“ A gift! To have the longest arm in Paris ! Mon 
Dieu! ” 
“ What of that ? ” 
“ A fortune ! Phenomenal! Superb ! And a chest 
—and muscles! By Hercules, they are as hard as 
horn ! ” 
“Well?” 
“ Diahle! Thou art dull for a thief.” 
Francois had a high opinion of himself. He said: 
“ Perhaps. What next ? ” 100 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“I need help. I will teach thee to fence and to 
shoot. Canst thou be honest ? I ask not if thou art.” 
“ Can I ? I do not know. I have never tried very 
long.” Then he paused. To fence like a gentleman, 
to handle a sword, had its temptations. “ Try me.” 
“ Good! Canst thou be a Jacobin to-day and a 
Royalist to-morrow ? ” 
“ Why not ? ” 
“The messieurs and their kind fence here in the 
morning; after our breakfast come the Jacobins about 
two. I ask not thy politics.” 
“Why not?” said Francois, who was the frankest 
of men—“why not? I am an aristocrat. I am at 
the top of my profession. I like naturally the folks 
who are on top.” 
“ France is like a ball now, no top, no bottom, roll- 
ing. Let us be serious.” 
“ Dieid that is difficult. I want to quit thieving. 
It does n’t pay at present. I accept the citizen’s offer. 
Does it include my dog ? ” 
“ Yes, indeed! Toto—a treasure! He will delight 
our pupils.” 
“ Good! He must have a little sword and wear a 
white cockade till noon, and then a tricolor.” 
“ And will five francs a week suffice until thou art 
fit to teach? And thy board and lodging—that goes 
without saying. After a wiiile we will talk again.” 
“ ’T is a fortune! ” said Francois; and upon this 
agreement the pair fell to chatting about the details of 
their future work. 
“One moment,” said Francois as Gamal rose. 
“ What are thy own politics ? ” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
101 
“I will tell thee when I can trust thee,” said the 
fencing-master. “Now they vary with the clock.” 
“ I see. But I have told thee mine.” 
“ Thou wert rash. I am not.” 
Francois laughed merrily, “ Good night.” He was 
happy to be at rest, well fed, and with something to 
do which involved no risk. Gamel went away, and 
Frangois fell to talking to the poodle. 
“ Toto ! Sit up, my sleepy friend! Attention! 
What dost thou think of M. Achille Gamel ? ” The 
poodle had been taught when questioned to put his 
head on one side, which gave him an air of intelligent 
consideration. “Ah, thou dost think he is as long- 
legged as I! Any fool of a cur can see that. What 
else? 
“He has great teeth—big—the better to eat thee, 
my dear! Curly hair, like thine, and as black; a nose 
—of course he has a nose, Toto. Art perplexed, little 
friend ? Oh, that is it! I see. Thou art right. He 
smiles; he never laughs. ;T is that bothered thee. 
Thou dost like him? Yes. Thou art not sure? Nor 
I. We must laugh for two. The bones are good 
here. That is past doubt. We will stay, and we will 
keep our eyes open. And listen now, Toto. We are 
honest. Good! Dost thou understand? No more 
purses, or out we go. No stealing of cutlets. Ah, 
thou mayest lick thy chops in vain, bandit! ” 
A few days later Gamel began to fence with Fran- 
cois, who liked it well. He was strong, agile, and like 
his old friends the cats for quickness of foot. Gamel 
was charmed. 
“We must make no mistakes. The foil held lightly 102 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
— so, so! If you grasp it too strongly you will not 
feel the other’s blade. That is better. ’T is the fin- 
gers direct the point. Thy hand a little higher—so, 
so! ” 
They fenced before the pupils came and in the inter- 
vals when none was on hand. Francois was tireless. 
It was June now, and Robespierre was the public 
prosecutor, with Petion at his side. Gamel read aloud 
the announcement with a coldly stern face. Fran- 
cois heard it with indifference. 
u Tiens! ” he cried. “ What matters it ? Dame! ” as 
he lunged at the wall, “ I do believe my arm is an inch 
longer.” He was thinking, as he tried over and over 
a new guard, of what a queer education he had had. 
Gamel walked away into his own room. He was a 
man who often liked to be alone. Apt to be mono- 
syllabic with his pupils, he could at times become 
seriously talkative at night over a pipe and a glass. 
Francois began to like him, and to suspect that he in 
turn was liked—a matter not indifferent to this poor 
devil, who had himself an undeveloped talent for 
affection. 
u Mon ami, Toto! Let us think. I might have been 
a priest. What an escape! Or a great chorister. 
That is another matter. A thief, a street-dog, a jug- 
gler, a maitre d’escrime. Parbleu! What next? We 
are getting up in the world. My palm, little rascal ? 
Thou wouldst read it. Ah, bad dog, not I! Let us 
to bed; come along. It seems too good to last.” XII 
In ivhicli Toto is seen to change his politics twice a day 
— the mornings and the afternoons quarrel—In which 
Jean Pierre Andre Amar, “ le farouchef appears. 
OIIE fencing-master took great pains with 
liis promising debutant, and now at last 
thought he could trust him to give les- 
sons. He gave him much advice, full 
of good sense. He must dress simply, 
not in any marked fashion. And here were the two 
cockades, and two for Toto, who was fitted with a toy 
sword, and had been taught to howl horribly if Fran- 
cois said, “Citizen Capet.” and to do the like if he 
cried, “ Aristocrat! ” 
Francois, gay and a little anxious, followed G-amel 
for the first time during the lesson-hours into the 
salle d’armes. Toto came after them in full rig, with 
a cap and a huge white cockade. A dozen gentlemen, 
most of them young, were preparing to fence. 
The poodle was greeted with “ Bravo! ” and strutted 
about on his hind legs with evident enjoyment of the 
approval. 
“Wait here,” said Gamel to Francois. “I will by 
and by give thee a chance.” Francois had, of course, 104 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
been constantly in tlie room when the patrons were 
absent, and it was now familiar. It had been part of 
the old hotel of some extinct nobleman, and was of 
unusual height, and quite forty feet square, with tall 
windows at each end; a cushioned bench ran around 
the walls, and above it hung wire masks, foils, sabers, 
and a curious collection of the arms of past ages and 
barbarous tribes. Chiefly remarkable were the many 
fine blades, Spanish or Eastern. At the side of the 
hall, a doorway led into the shooting-gallery, a late 
adjunct since the English use of the pistol had been 
brought into the settlement of quarrels made savage 
by the angry politics of the day. On one of the walls 
of the fencing-room was a large sign on which was 
painted: “ Achille Gamel, ci-devant Maitre d’Armes, 
Regiment du Due de Rohan-Chabot. Lessons in 
the small sword, saber, and pistol.” The word “ Due ” 
was chalked over, but was still easily to be made 
out. 
Presently Gam el came to Francois in his shirt 
and breeches, foil in hand. “This way, Francois.” 
As they slowly crossed the room, Gamel went on to 
say in a low tone of voice: “Don’t be too eager. 
Take it all as a matter of course. Don’t be nervous. 
One must have had a serious affair or two before one 
gets over the foil fever. Remember, you are here to 
teach, not to triumph. There are few here you can- 
not touch, but that is not business.” 
“ I understand,” said Francois. 
“ I will give you for your lesson the best blade in 
Paris. You can teach him nothing. He is my foster- 
brother, the Marquis de Ste. Luce.” THE ADVENTUBES OF FBANQOIS 
105 
“ Ste. Luce! ” 
“ Yes; he is here often.” 
As they approached, the great gentleman came to 
meet them, separating himself from the laughing 
group of younger men. 
“ Ma foi ! ” he exclaimed. “ Is this your new blade, 
Gamel!” He caught Francois’s appealing eye, and 
showed no sign of having known the thief until they 
were apart from the rest and had taken their foils. 
Then he said quietly, “ Does Gamel know ! ” 
“Yes, monsieur. I saved his life in a row in the 
Cite, and he gives me this chance.” 
“ Good! I shall not betray you. But beware! 
You must keep faith, and behave yourself.” 
“ Monsieur may trust me.” 
“ And you can fence ! ” 
“ A little, monsieur.” 
“Well, then, on guard! ” The marquis was pleased 
to praise the new teacher. “He has a supple wrist, 
and what a reach of arm ! ” At last he went away to 
Gamel’s room, where they were absent a half-hour. 
These private talks, Francois observed later, were 
frequent, especially with certain of the middle-aged 
gentlemen who took here their morning exercise. 
After this first introduction to business, Francois 
sat still when the marquis had left him. By and by 
the gentleman came back, and saying a word of en- 
couragement to Francois, went away. 
“ Take M. de Lamerie, Francois,” said Gamel; and 
turning to a gentleman near by, added, UA vous, 
monsieur.” Others began to select foils and to fence 
in couples, so that soon the hall rang with the click, 106 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
click of meeting steel. Francois was clever enough 
to let his pupil get in a touch now and then, and 
meanwhile kept him and those who looked on de- 
lighted with his natural merriment. He was soon 
a favorite. The dog was made to howl at a tricolored 
cockade, and proved a great success. As to the fen- 
cing-lessons, Gamel was overjoyed, and as time ran on 
came to trust and to like his thief, who began speedily 
to pick up the little well-mannered ways and phrases 
he heard about him. He liked well to be liked and to 
be praised for his skill, which week by week became 
greater, until none except M. Gamel and the marquis 
were able to meet him on equal terms. The master 
of arms was generous; the wages rose. The clothes 
Francois now wore were better, and when Gamel asked 
him to choose a rapier for wear in the street, which 
was not yet forbidden, the poor thief felt that he was 
in the full sunlight of fortune. 
The afternoons were less to his taste. If a new 
pupil arrived, the cook, an old woman, let him in, and 
Gamel saw him in an anteroom and settled terms 
and hours. The Jacobins came after two o’clock. 
Then the room was unusually full. The poodle howled 
at the name of Louis Capet. Tricolored cockades 
were everywhere. The talk was of war and the fron- 
tier, the ways of speech were guarded, the manners 
not those of the morning. These citizens were awk- 
ward, but terribly in earnest. The pistol-gallery was 
much in favor: but at this deadly play Francois was 
never an expert. He did not like it, and was pleased 
when the Yicomte de Beausejour, a favored pupil, 
said: “’T is a coarse weapon, Francois. Ah, well THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
107 
enough to enable bulldog English to settle their dis- 
putes over a bone; but, dame! quite unfit to be the 
arm of honor of gentlemen.” This uncertain property 
of honor seemed to Francois a too insecure kind of 
investment. It was enough to have to take care of 
one’s pocket; and his being now well lined, Francois 
began to resent the possibility of those sudden changes 
of ownership which under other conditions he had 
looked upon as almost in the nature of things. 
During this summer, and in the winter of ’91 and 
’92, Darnel was at times absent for days. Whenever 
he returned he was for a week after in his monosylla- 
bic mood. Francois, who was keenly alive to his 
present advantages, and who saw how these absences 
interfered with their business, began to exercise his 
easily excited inquisitiveness, and to meditate on what 
was beneath Darnel’s frequent fits of abstraction. His 
own life had known disappointments, not always of 
his own making. He dreaded new ones. The past of 
the Cite, Quatre Pattes, Despard, those haunting eyes 
of the marquis’s widowed daughter, the choristers, the 
asylum, the mad street life—all the company of his 
uncertain days—were gone. Now, of late, he began 
to have a feeling of uneasy belief that things were 
once more about to change. Nor was the outer life 
of the capital such as to promise tranquillity. A na- 
tion was about to become insane. It was at this time 
like a man thus threatened: to-day it was sane, to- 
morrow it might be reeling over the uncertain line 
which separates the sound from the unsound. Had 
Francois been more interested and more apprehensive, 
he was intelligent enough to have shared the dismay 108 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
with which many Frenchmen saw the growth of tu- 
multuous misrule. Indeed, the talk of the morning 
fencing-school should have taught him alarm. But 
he had formerly lived the life of the hour, even of the 
minute, and as long as he was well fed, housed, and 
clothed, his normal good humor comfortably digested 
anxiety. 
I should wrongly state a character of uncommon 
interest if I were to give the impression of a man who 
had merely the constant hilarity of a happy child. 
He was apt to laugh where others smiled; but, as he 
matured, cheerful contentment was his usual mood, 
and with it, to the last, the probability of such easily 
born laughter as radiated mirth upon all who heard 
it, like a companionable fire diffusing its generous 
warmth. He was at this time doing what he most 
fancied. The company suited him. He liked the 
tranquil ways of these courteous gentlemen. In a 
word, he was contented, and for a time lost all desire 
to seek change or adventure. His satisfaction in the 
life made him more quiet and perhaps more thought- 
ful. He had every reason to be cheerful, and cheer- 
fulness is the temperate zone of the mind. 
At times, on Sundays, in the summer of ’92, he 
wandered into the country with Toto; but these holi- 
days were rare. Now and then the habits of years 
brought again the longing for excitement; with the 
meal-hours he recovered his common sense, being a 
big fellow of sharp appetite and a camel-like capacity 
for substantial food. 
The feud between the cockades broke out at this 
time in duels, which it became the fashion to drive to THE ADVENTURES OP FRANCOIS 
109 
the Bois to see. Women of all classes looked on and 
applauded, and few liked it if the affair failed to prove 
grave. Francois found it entertaining. The duels 
were, in fact, many in the years of grace ’91 and ’92. 
The morning pupils wore their hair in curls, dressed 
in short clothes, and defied the new-fashioned repub- 
lican pantaloons, which were rising up to the armpits 
and descending the legs. They carried sword-canes, 
or sticks like the club of Hercules; a few still wore 
the sword. Brown and gray wore the afternoon citi- 
zens, with long straight hair, short waistcoats, and 
long and longer culottes above large steel shoe-buckles, 
all that were silver having been given to aid the funds 
of a bankrupt government. The morning, which knew 
very well who came in the later hours, abused the 
afternoon, and this portion of the day returned those 
compliments in kind. 
Now and then the morning had a little affair with 
the afternoon, for the Terror was not yet. In cafes 
and theaters there were constant outbreaks, and men 
on both sides eager enough to sustain opinion by the 
sword or the pistol. When one of what Francois 
called “ our little domestic difficulties ” was on hand, 
there was excitement and interest among Royalists 
and Jacobins, with much advice given, and huge dis- 
gust when monsieur was pinked by Citizen Chose of 
the Cordeliers or of the Jacobin Club. 
If the reverse obtained, and some gentleman of ancient 
name condescended to run Citizen Chose through the 
lungs, there was great rejoicing before noon and black 
looks after it. Here were a half-dozen affairs in a 
month, for these were the first blades in France. 110 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
There were laws against the duel, but the law changed 
too fast for obedience, and fashion, as usual, defied it. 
Hatred and contempt were ready at every turn. Two 
abbes fought, and what was left of the great ladies 
went to see and applaud. 
This duel between morning and afternoon began to 
amuse Paris. But pretty soon neither the master of 
arms nor his assistant was as well pleased at the ex- 
cessive attention thus drawn to the school of fencing. 
Gamel disliked it for reasons which he did not set 
forth, and Francois because he felt that his disturb- 
ing readiness to turn back to a life of peril and dis- 
comfort was like enough to be reinforced by coming 
events. He adored good living, yet could exist on 
crusts. He was intelligent, yet did not like to be 
forced to think. An overmastering sense of the ludi- 
crous inclined him to take the world lightly. He liked 
ease, yet delighted in adventure. He distrusted his 
own temperament. He had need to do so. Excite- 
ment was in the air. The summer of ’92 was unquiet, 
and pupils were less numerous, so that Francois found 
time to wander. The autumn brought no change in his 
life, but Gamel became more and more self-absorbed, 
and neglected his pupils. The gentlemen who fenced 
in the mornings began to disappear, and the new year 
of 1793 came in with war without and tumult within 
distracted France. 
For several days before the 21st of January, 1793, 
strange faces were frequently seen in the morning 
hours, or more often late at night. These passed into 
Gamel’s room, and remained long. The marquis, 
more thoughtful than usual, came and went daily. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Early on the 20th, Gamel told Francois that he should 
be absent until after the 21st, the day set for the king’ 
to die. Francois asked no questions, and was not 
deeply grieved to be left in the dark as to what was in 
contemplation. During the previous week there had 
been sad faces in the morning hours. The pupils 
were fewer; they were leaving Paris—and too many 
were leaving France. The Jacobins, with whom 
Francois fenced in the latter part of the day, were 
wildly triumphant. They missed Gamel when he was 
absent, and asked awkward questions. It was plain 
enough to his assistant that the master of this turbu- 
lent school was a Royalist enrage, as men then said. 
The assistant was much of his mind, but he was also 
far more loyal to one Francois than to the unfortu- 
nate king. 
He was not surprised that at the hour of opening 
on the 21st no one appeared. He sat thinking, and a 
little sorry for the humbled Louis rumbling over the 
crowded streets to his doom. The prisons were al- 
ready becoming crowded; the richer bourgeoisie had 
become submissive. The more able and aggressive 
Jacobins were about to seize the reins of power from 
the sentimental Girondists. 
“ Let us think a little,” said Francois to his friend 
and counselor Toto. The poodle woke up, and sat 
attentive. “ It is disagreeable to have to think, mon 
ami; but there are our heads. Without a head one 
cannot eat or enjoy a bone. Shall we go to the frontier, 
and be shot at, and shoot ? Dame! a thousand bullets 
to one guillotine. We do not like that. Let us change 
our opinions, Toto, join the clubs, and talk liberty. 112 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
Yes; that is thy opinion. Must we go back to the 
streets ? ’T is good nowadays to be obscure, and thou 
art becoming a public character, Toto.” 
He read the gazette awhile, practised with the pistol, 
and taught the dog a new trick. Still no one came, 
and the day wore on to noon. At this hour the bell 
rang, and the poodle barked, as was his custom. 
“Learn to hold thy tongue,” said the master The 
servant had gone, like all Paris, to see a brave man die. 
Francois opened the outer door. A strongly built 
man he had never before seen entered, and, pushing by 
him, went without a word into the great room beyond. 
“ Hallo, citizen! What dost thou want ? ” said 
Francois, following him. 
“ Art thou Citizen Gamel ? ” 
Francois was not; and what could he do for the 
citizen ? 
The man for a moment made no reply, but glanced 
searchingly about the hall, while the assistant looked 
him over as keenly. He was a personage not easily to 
be forgotten. 
“No one else here?” he asked. 
“No one.” 
The questioner was a man not over thirty-five, of 
colossal make, and with something about him which 
Toto resented. He began to bark, and then, of a 
sudden, fled under a bench, and watched the new- 
comer. 
His features were out of keeping with his height 
and breadth. The Jacobin had small, restless eyes, 
a diminutive nose, perhaps broken, and a large-lipped 
mouth, which, as he talked, was drawn to one side as “ ‘ AND SO A DOG IS SENT TO FETCH THE 
SAFEGUARD THE PEOPLE PROVIDE ? ’ ” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
115 
though from some loss of power on the other half of 
the face. 
“I am Jean Pierre Andre Amar,” he said, with an 
air of importance. 
“ Will the citizen be seated?” 
He would not. He desired to see Citizen G-amel. 
Francois regretted his absence on business. Amar, 
later known as le farouche, desired to see the list of 
pupils, in order to select an unoccupied morning hour. 
Unluckily, the master had the keys. The citizen 
wished to fence, and could come in the morning only; 
he was busy after that. Francois would mention his 
name; perhaps the hours of the morning were full, 
but Citizen Hamel would no doubt arrange. 
The man with the wandering mouth stood in 
thought, said he would return, and then asked 
abruptly: 
“ Art thou his assistant?” 
“ Yes.” 
“ And thy name ? ” 
11 Francis.” 
“ Has Citizen Francois a carte-civique— a certificate 
of citizenship ? ” 
Francois knew better than to refuse. “ Fetch me 
the card, Toto. ’T is on the chair in my room. Va 
-go!” 
“ Thou art careless, Citizen Francois.” 
Francois, on this, became short of speech. Toto 
ran back. u Give it to the citizen.” 
Amar took it, saying: “It is correct. And so a 
dog is sent to fetch the safeguard the people pro- 
vide ? ” 116 
THE ADVENTURES OE ERANgOIS 
Francois laughed. “ The citizen is particular. But 
here we are good republicans, and have given our 
useful arms to the army, and think to go soon our- 
selves. Shall I give the citizen a lesson ?” 
No; he would call again. The section wished the 
names of all who fenced here. As the citizen reached 
the door, he said, turning: 
“ Thou art the man who used to laugh in the show. 
Robespierre told me of what fortune was read on his 
palm. A great man. Take care of thy own fortune. 
Thou art not of the club. It may be thou wilt laugh 
no more.” This while the distorted mouth went to 
left and came back, and the small eyes winked and 
wandered. Francois thanked him. He would join 
the club, the list should be ready, and so on. 
When alone again, Francois began to reflect on 
what was likely to happen. At any time, Amar might 
return with a guard. On the 23d, as usual during 
this sad week, there were no morning pupils; and 
still Oamel came not, and Francois had to manage 
the turbulent afternoon pupils alone. XIII 
Citizen Amar, meeting the marquis, is unluckxj and vin 
dictive. 
HFEAR vast and oppressive was upon the 
great city. The white cockades were 
gone. Francois burned all he could 
find. For a week no one came to fence 
in the morning. The afternoons were 
full, and there was much inquiry for Citizen Camel. 
On the night of the 24th of this terrible January, 
1793, Francois went out. Paris was recovering, and, 
as usual, forgetful, was eating and drinking and 
dancing, while all Europe was ringing with the news 
of this murder of a good man too weak for a mighty 
task. 
When, later, Francois returned to the school of 
arms he smelt the odor of a pipe. “Ah! ” he cried, 
“ Toto, he has come. ’T is none too soon.” Candles 
lighted dimly the large hall and the rooms beyond 
it. He heard no sounds, and, suddenly becoming 
uneasy, hastened to enter the little salon. It was 
empty, as were all the rooms. On the bedroom floor 
lay scattered clothes. Scorched leaflets were flut- 
tering like black crows over the ashes of a dying 
117 118 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
fire. They were fragments of burnt paper. An open 
desk was on the table, and everywhere were signs of 
haste. 
Francois ran out to the kitchen, and called their 
only servant, a shrewd old woman. She said: “I 
heard thee, citizen. I was coming to tell thee that 
Citizen Gamel has gone.” 
“ Gone! Mon Dieul ” 
“ He has paid me, and well; and here is a box for 
thee, Citizen Francois. I hid it under the mattress. 
Oh, I have waited, but I am afraid.” 
Francois took the box and its key, and went to 
his room. The box contained some live hundred 
francs in gold, and as much more in assignats—the 
notes of the day, and really worth but little. In a 
folded package were papers and a letter. It read 
thus: 
“ I am sorry to leave thee. A business affair has 
failed, and I go westward. I risk this to warn thee 
to fly. For two days thou art safe, but not longer. 
If a gentleman calls whom thou knowest, and asks for 
Monsieur Achille Gamel, tell him all. I inclose for 
thee a passport. No matter how I got it. It is good. 
Use it soon. I divide with thee my small store. 
Thou hast been honest; stay so. We may meet in 
better times.” 
Francois laughed. “We must go, Toto. Well, it 
has a good side; thou wilt get thinner.” Then he 
read the passport. It described him well: Jean 
Francois, juggler (“ Good ! ”), returning to Normandy; 
affairs of family; a father dying. “Good! Now I 
have one parent at least.” It was in due order. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
119 
“ Thou hast no papers, Toto; but thy black head is 
secure." 
At early morning on the 25th of January, he found 
a vender of antiquities, and quickly sold him, for two 
hundred francs, the antique arms in the fencing-room. 
He must remove them that coming night. Next he 
sought a maker of articles for the jugglers who were 
still to be found in every town; for neither at this 
time nor during the Terror did the people cease to 
amuse themselves. Francois bought a set of gaily 
tinted balls and the conjuring apparatus with which 
he was familiar. Once again in his room, he packed 
his clothes in a knapsack and his juggler’s material in a 
bag that he could carry. A long cloak which his mas- 
ter had left he set aside to take, and, thus prepared, 
felt that on the whole he had better risk waiting until 
the dawn of the following day before he set out on his 
wintry journey. The old woman had already fled in 
alarm. 
On the following morning, at 9 a. m., Francois went 
into the great hall to secure pistols and the fine Spanish 
rapier which Gamel had given him. Here he paused, 
and re-read the passport. A blank space had been 
left for the insertion of the special locality to which 
the bearer might wish to go in Normandy. 
“ Ah! ” he exclaimed, “ that must do. I will go to 
Musillon. Perhaps I shall find Despard. He will help 
me to recover that desirable papa.” He went back to 
Gamel’s room, and carefully completed the passport 
by inserting the name of the village Musillon. 
After this he returned to the hall, talking to the 
poodle as he went. u Toto, thou art uneasy,” he said; 120 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“and I too, my friend. Remember to howl no more 
at Jacobins. Thou art of the Left, a dog of the Left. 
Tiens! the bell.” He caught up his rapier, and opened 
the door. A powerful, broad-shouldered man entered. 
He was clad in gray, and wore the red bonnet the 
extreme Jacobins affected, and which Robespierre so 
much despised. 
“ Ah, no one here. That is well. I trust Gamel has 
gone.” 
“ Ah! ” exclaimed Francois to himself. “ ’T is my 
confounded marquis. Now for ill luck.” 
“ Is Monsieur Gamel at home ? Monsieur Achille 
Gamel?” He emphasized the title. 
Francois understood, with no great amazement, that 
this was the man of whom Gamel’s letter spoke. He 
replied, “ This way, please, monsieur.” 
The gentleman followed without a word. 
“ Read this,” said Francois; “ and, pardon me, but 
read it quickly. My head appears to me to be less 
securely attached to my body than common.” 
u Dame! You are as jolly as ever, my delightful 
thief.” 
“ I beg that monsieur will read this letter, and at 
once. Nom de del! there is no time to be lost.” And 
still he laughed. “We are in a trap, monsieur.” 
The marquis was not to be hurried; it was not his 
way. “ St. Gris! you can laugh. I envy you. In 
France men grin, for they must; but laughter is dead. 
Ah! ” and he fell to considering the letter. Then he 
folded it deliberately. “ Burn it,” he said. “ So; that 
is well; and now, my good thief, I came to warn 
Gamel. He has wisely fled. Of course there was a THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
121 
plot, and, as usual, it failed. You, who are not in it, 
are like enough to pay other folks’ debts. I have a 
certain mild interest in honest rascality. You are 
a marked man. No cabbage of the field is more sure 
of the knife. Go, and soon.” 
“ I have heard from Gamel, monsieur. He assured 
me that I was safe here for a day or two—I know not 
how he knew that.” 
“I do-, but I scarcely share his confidence. Go 
soon.” 
“ I shall go at dawn to-morrow.” 
“No; go to-day—this evening.” 
“I will. Monsieur will pardon me if I ask if 
madame, monsieur’s daughter, is well and safe f 
There are few who have been kind to me, and—” 
“ My child is well,” said the marquis, “ and in Nor- 
mandy ; but if safe or not, who can say, while these 
wolves destroy women and children ? Safe! I would 
give my soul to be sure of that.” His face showed 
the transient emotion he felt; and suddenly, as if 
annoyed at his own weakness, he drew himself up and 
said abruptly: “Go—and go quickly! I shall leave 
at once—” 
At this moment the bell rang violently. 
“ The devil! ” cried the marquis. “ Go and see, and 
do not shut the inner door; I must hear.” With this 
he entered the pistol-gallery and waited. Francois 
obeyed, and, with the sheathed rapier still in his hand, 
crossed the hall. Again the bell rang. 
“ He is in a mischief of a hurry. No noise, Toto ! ” 
As he opened the outer door, the man of the warped 
face broke in, and, passing him at once, walked 122 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
across the little reception-room and into the great hall 
beyond. Again his height and massive build struck 
the fencing-master. 
“Where is Gamel, citizen?—and no lies to me! 
Where is Gamel, I say ? ” 
“He has gone away. Why, I do not know. Will 
the citizen search his rooms ? ” 
“ Search! Not I. I will call the municipals. 
What are those rooms over there ? And arms! Why 
have they not been sent to the committee for our 
patriot children on the frontier?” 
“ Perhaps Citizen Amar would kindly inspect them, 
and then, if required, we can send them. Many have 
been already sent. Behold, citizen, a war-club of 
Ashantee, a matchlock, a headsman’s sword. Parbleu! 
the guillotine is better.” 
“ I see, citizen; I see. But now of Gamel. He was 
to be here to-day, I hear. I will return presently with 
the officers; and, friend citizen, it will be well for thee 
to assist, and heartily. This Gamel was in some plot 
to save the Citizen Capet. Like master, like man. 
Have ready the lists of those aristocrats who fence 
here in the morning. Thou canst save thy head by 
making a clean breast of it. I shall return in half 
an hour. Have everything ready.” 
At this the dreaded Jacobin, having looked over 
the arms and duly impressed the fencing-master, 
moved toward the door of exit. Should Amar leave 
the room, Francois felt that his own fate was certain. 
He had been too much with Gamel. Less things 
every day cost the heads of men. There was death or 
life in the next five minutes. Francois was not one to THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
123 
hesitate. Preceding the Jacobin, he quietly set his 
back to the door, and, locking it, put the key in his 
pocket. This action was so dexterous and swift that 
for a moment the Jacobin did not perceive that he 
was trapped. He was thinking if there was anything 
more to be said. He looked np. “ Well, open the 
door, citizen.” As he spoke, the two strangest faces 
in Paris were set over against each other. Here was 
comedy, with long lean features, twinkling eyes above, 
and below the good humor of a capacious mouth set 
between preposterous ears. And there was tragedy, 
strong of jaw, long hair lying flat in black, leech-like 
flakes on a too prominent brow, and small eyes, deep- 
set, restless, threatening, seen like those of a wolf in 
cave shelters—a face no man trusted, a face on which 
all expressions grew into deformity; not a mere beast; 
a terribly intelligent bigot of the new creed, colossal, 
alert, unsparing, fearless, full of vanity. 
When the citizen commissioner said, “ Open,” Fran- 
cois replied: 
“ Not just yet, citizen.” 
“ What is this ? ” shouted Amar. “ Open, I say, in 
the name of the law! ” 
“ Not I.” And Francois, with a quick motion, threw 
off the sheath of the rapier. It fell with a great clat- 
ter on the far side of the room. 
“ Open, I say! ” 
At this moment Ste. Luce came across the hall. 
“ What the deuce is all this, Francois ? ” 
Amar turned his square shoulders, and looked at 
the marquis. 
“I presume thee, too, to be one of this rascal 124 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Gamel’s band. If tbou dost think I, Pierre Amar, 
am afraid of thee, thou art going to find out thy mis- 
take. What is thy name ? ” 
11 Go to the devil! ” cried the marquis. The Jacobin 
darted toward the window; but Francois was too quick 
for him, and instantly had him by the collar, the point 
of the rapier touching his back. “ Move a step, and 
thou art a dead man.” The face, crooked with pas- 
sion, half turned over the shoulder. 
“ Misery! What a beauty ! Didst thou think I 
valued my head so little as to trust thee, scum of the 
devil’s dish-water ? ” For some reason this huge ani- 
mal filled Francois with rage, and he poured out a 
flood of the abusive slang of the Cite as the marquis 
came up. 
u Drop that window-curtain ! ” said the thief. u And 
now, what to do, monsieur ? ” 
The captured man showed the utmost courage, and 
no small lack of wisdom. “ Dog of an aristocrat! I 
know thee. It was thou didst kill Jean Coutier, last 
month. I saw thee, coward! We knew not thy 
name. Now we shall take pay for that murder.” 
The marquis grew white to the eyes, with a certain 
twitching of the lips to be seen as Francois again 
asked: 
“ What shall we do with him ? Shall we tie him ? ” 
“ No; kill him. What! you will not ? Give me your 
rapier. ’T is but one wolf less.” 
Francois was more than unwilling. The intense 
hatred of the noble for the Jacobin he did not share; 
indeed, he liked the man’s fearlessness, but, neverthe- 
less, meant to provide for his own security. His con- THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
125 
science, such as it was, refused to sanction cold-blooded 
murder. 
“1 cannot. Go away! I will take care of this 
rascal.” 
“There is no time to lose,” said the marquis. 
“Kill the brute.” 
“Not I,” said Francois. 
“Thou art coward enough to kill a man in cold 
blood! ” cried Amar. “ This is the fine honor you 
talk of. Better go. All thy kind are running; but, 
soon or late, the guillotine will get thy hog-head, as it 
did thy Jew-nosed king’s.” 
“ The face and the tongue arc well matched,” said 
Ste. Luce, quietly. “ It will take a good ten minutes 
to tie and gag him. You will not kill him? Then 
give the fellow a blade, and—I will see to the rest. 
Are you man enough to take my offer? Quick, 
now! ” 
“ Try me. I am no weakling, like poor Coutier.” 
“Find him a blade, Francois. I will watch him. 
Be quick! ” He took the rapier, and stood by the 
motionless figure, whose uneasy eyes followed the 
thief as he went and came again. 
“ The blades are of a length, Francois ? Yes. Lock 
the door. Ah, it is done. Good! Now, keep an eye 
on him, Francois. Take care of yourself if he has the 
luck to kill me. However, that is unlikely. Ah, you 
have a sword, Francois.” 
“ The citizen talks a good deal,” said Amar, trying 
his blade on the floor. 
“Yes,” said the marquis, negligently untying his 
cravat. “It is so rare, in these democratic days, 126 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
that one has a chance to talk with one of you gen- 
tlemen.” 
“ Bah! ” cried the Jacobin, “ we shall see presently.” 
As he spoke, he laid his sword on a chair and began 
to strip. As he took off his coat and waistcoat, he 
folded them with care, and laid them neatly on a 
bench. 
The marquis also stripped to his waistcoat, but it 
was with more haste. He threw his coat to Francois, 
and took his place in the middle of the room, where 
he waited until his slower antagonist, in shirt and 
breeches, came forward to meet him. Both believed 
it to be a duel to the death, but neither face showed 
to Francois any sign of anxiety. The Jacobin said: 
“ The light is in thine eyes, citizen. If we were to 
move so as to engage across the room—” 
“ It is of no moment,” returned the marquis. 11 Are 
you ready ? ” 
“Yes.” 
Francois saw no better method of disposing of an 
awkward business. Nevertheless, he was uncomfort- 
able. “ What if this devil should kill the marquis ? ” 
He cried, “ On guard, messieurs! ” and stepped aside. 
The marquis saluted with grave courtesy; but the 
Jacobin, obeying the fashion of the schools of fence, 
went through the formula of appearing to draw the 
sword, and certain other conventional motions sup- 
posed to be exacted by etiquette. The marquis smiled 
as Amar led off in this ceremonious fashion. These 
preliminaries of the solle d’arnies were usually omitted 
or curtailed in serious combats. The seigneur, 
amused, and following Amar’s lead, went through the THE ADVENTURES OP FRANgOIS 
127 
whole performance. Meanwhile Francois looked the 
two men over, and was not ill pleased. This heavy fel- 
low should prove no match for a practised duelist like 
Ste. Luce. He was soon undeceived. 
Both men were plainly enough masters of their 
weapon, and for at least two minutes there was no 
advantage. Then Ste. Luce was touched in the left 
shoulder, and a distorted grimace of satisfaction ran 
over the face of the Jacobin. The marquis became 
more careful, and a minute or two later Francois saw 
with pleasure that Amar was breathing a trifle hard. 
He had half a mind to cry: “Wait! wait! He is 
feeling the strain.” He held his peace, and, with Toto, 
looked on in silence. The marquis knew his business 
well, and noted the quickening chest movements of 
his adversary. He began to smile, and to make a 
series of inconceivably quick lunges. Now and then 
the point of either blade struck fair on the convex 
steel shell-like guard which protected the hand. 
When this chanced, a clear, sweet note as of a bell 
rang through the great hall. The Jacobin held his 
own, and Francois, despite his anxiety, saw with the 
satisfaction of a master how lightly each rapier lay in 
the grasp of the duelist, and how dexterously the fin- 
gers alone were used to guide the blades. 
Of a sudden the strange face was jerked as it were 
to left, and a savage lunge in tierce came perilously 
near to ending the affair. Ste. Luce threw himself 
back with the quickness of a boy. The point barely 
touched him. “ St. Gris! ” he called out gaily. 
“ That was well meant. Now take care! ” 
“ By St. Denis!’t is a master,” muttered Francois. 128 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
The marquis seemed of a sudden to have let loose 
a reserve of unlooked-for power. He was here and 
there about the massive and by no means unready 
bulk of Amar, swift and beautifully graceful. 
Then of a sudden the marquis’s blade went out as 
quick as lightning, and just at the limit of a nearly 
futile thrust caught Amar over the right eye. “ Dame! 
I missed those lanterns of hell! ” 
The Jacobin brushed away the blood which, run- 
ning down his face, made his right eye useless for the 
time. 
The marquis fell back, and dropped his point. 
“ The deuce! The man cannot see. Tie a handker- 
chief around his head.” 
The Jacobin was not sorry to have time to breathe. 
“ Thou art more than fair, citizen,” said Amar, get- 
ting his breath. 
“Thanks,” returned the marquis, coldly. “Make 
haste, Francois.” 
Francois took up a lace handkerchief which lay be- 
side Ste. Luce’s coat on the seat where he had cast his 
clothes. While Francois bound the handkerchief 
around the head so as to stop the flow of blood, Amar 
turned to his foe. 
“Citizen,” said the Jacobin, “thou hast been a gal- 
lant man in this matter. My life was thine to take. 
Let it end here. Thou art a brave man and a good 
blade.” 
Ste. Luce looked at him with an expression of 
amused curiosity. 
“ What else ? ” 
“I will not have thee pursued—on my honor.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
129 
“ Tie it firmly, Francois. You have just heard, my 
Francois, of the last Parisian novelty—a Jacobin’s 
honor! Be so good as to hurry, Francois.” 
Had the stern Jacobin felt some sudden impulse of 
pity or respect? In all his after days he was un- 
sparing, and certainly it was not fear which now 
moved him. 
“ As pleases thee,” he said simply. Ste. Luce made 
no answer. Again their blades met. And now the 
marquis changed his game, facing his foe steadily, 
while Francois gazed in admiration. Ste. Luce’s rapier 
was like a lizard’s movements for quickness. Twice 
he touched the man’s chest, and by degrees drove him 
back, panting, until he was against the door. Sud- 
denly, seeming to recover strength, the Jacobin lunged 
in quarte, and would have caught the marquis fair m 
the breast-bone had he not thrown himself backward 
as he felt the prick. Instantly he struck the blade 
aside with his open left hand, and, as it went by his 
left side, drove his rapier savagely through Amar’s 
right lung and into the panel of the door. It was 
over. Not ten minutes had passed. 
“ Dame! ” he cried, withdrawing his rapier, and re- 
treating a pace or two. u He was worth fighting.” 
The Jacobin’s face moved convulsively. He 
coughed, spattering blood about him. His right arm 
moved in quick jerks. His sword dropped, and stuck 
upright in the floor, quivering. 
“ Dog of an aristocrat! ” he cried. His distorted 
face twitched; he staggered to left, to right, and at 
last tumbled in a heap, a massive figure, of a sudden 
inert and harmless. 130 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
The marquis stood still and looked down at his foe. 
“ What the deuce to do with him ? ” said Francois. 
“ Take his head, and drag him into your room. We 
can talk then.” 
“Will monsieur take his feet?” 
“ What! I touch the dog? No, not I.” 
Francois did not like it; but making no reply, he 
dragged the Jacobin’s helpless bulk after him, and, 
once in his room, pulled the mattress off the bed, and 
without roughness drew the man upon it. 
Amar opened his eyes, and tried to speak. He 
could not; the flow of blood choked him. He shook 
his fist at Ste. Luce. 
“ Cursed brute,” cried Francois, “ be still! He will 
begin to howl presently. The sons of Satan are im- 
mortal.” 
“We must gag him, Francois.” 
“But he will die; he will choke. See how he 
breathes—how hard.” 
“ Diable! it is he or I. Would he spare me, do you 
think? Don’t talk nonsense. Do as I tell you.” 
Francois took up a- towel. As he approached, 
Amar looked up at him. There was no plea in his 
savage face. 
“Go on. What the deuce are you waiting for?” 
said Ste. Luce. 
“ I cannot do it,” said Francois. “ End it yourself.” 
“ What! I ? Strangle a dog! I! Dame! Let us 
go. What a fool you are! ” 
“ Better go singly, then,” said the thief. He had no 
mind to increase his own risks by the dangerous so- 
ciety of the nobleman. ‘•HE STAGGERED TO LEFT, TO RIGHT, AND AT LAST TUMBLED IN A 
HEAP.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
133 
Amar was silent. The handkerchief had fallen 
from his head, but the wound bled no longer. 
“What shall I do with the handkerchief, mon- 
sieur ? ” 
“ Do ? Burn it. Faugh! ” Francois cast it on 
the still glowing embers. “Now my clothes and my 
cloak,” said Ste. Luce; “ and do not lose any time over 
that animal.” 
He washed off the little blood on his clothes, and 
dressed in haste, saying: u Lucky that his point struck 
on my breast-bone. ’T is of no moment. The fellow 
has left me a remembrance. I am sorry I did not 
have the luck to kill him. Good-by, Francois. May 
we meet in better days.” He was gone. 
Francois locked the door after him, and went back 
to his room. He sat down on the floor beside the 
mattress. 
“Now listen, Master Amar. Canst thou hear me? 
Ah, yes. Well, I have saved thy life. Oh, thou wilt 
get well,—more Js the pity!—and do some mischief 
yet. Now if I should kill thee I would be pretty 
safe. If I go away, and send thee a doctor, I am a 
lost man. What is that thou art saying? Ah!” 
and he leaned down to hear the broken whisper. “ So 
thou wilt have my head chopped off. Thou art less 
afraid than I would be, were I thee. What shall we 
do, Toto?” and he laughed; somehow the situation 
had for him its humorous side. 
“ I can’t murder a man,” he said. “ If ever I kill a 
man, I trust it may be one who hath not thy eyes and 
thy one-sided grin. To be haunted by a ghost like 
thee! The deuce! Not I! Sac d papier! I will 134 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
take my chance.” He sat down, and wrote a short 
note to a surgeon on the farther side of Paris, one 
whom he knew to have been much commended to his 
pupils by Gamel. 
“ My unforgiving friend,” he said, “ I shall lock thee 
in. Thou art too weak to move, and to try will cause 
thee to bleed. This note will get thee a surgeon in 
about six hours. I must leave thee. Be quiet, and be 
good. Here is a flask of eau-de-vie. Art still of a 
mind to give thy preserver to the guillotine ? ” The 
grim head nodded as the red froth leaked out over 
the lips. “ ‘ Yes, yes/ thou sayest. Thou art in a fine 
state of penitence. I hope we have seen the last of 
each other. One more chance. Promise me not to be 
my enemy. I will trust thee. Come, now.” 
But the Jacobin was past speech. As Francois 
knelt beside him, he beckoned feebly. 
“What is it?” As he bent lower, a grim smile 
went over the one movable side of Arnar’s face, and, 
raising a feeble hand, he drew it across Francois’s 
neck. 
“ Mon Dieu! ” cried he, recoiling, “ thou art ripe for 
hell. Adieu, my unforgiving friend ; and as thou hast 
no God, au diable, and may St. Satan look after thee— 
for love of thy looks. Come, doggie! ” He put his 
pistols in the back of his belt, set his rapier in the 
belt-catch, threw his cloak over all, and picked up his 
bag and knapsack. He took one last look at Amar, 
and saying, “By-by, my angel,” left him, locking 
both doors as he went out. 
Francois passed into the street, followed by the 
black poodle. In the Rue St. Honore he paid the THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
135 
boy of a butcher with whom Gamel dealt to take his 
note when the midday meal should be over. And thus 
having eased his conscience and regulated the busi- 
ness of life, he set out to put between him and the 
Jacobin as many miles as his long legs could cover. XIV 
Frangois escapes from Paris and goes in search of a 
father. He meets a man who lias a wart on his nose, 
and who because of this is unlucky. 
had been fortunate. Not more than an 
hour and a quarter had gone by since 
/f lift Arnar’s entrance, and the mid-hour of 
breakfast had probably secured them 
from intrusion of foe or friend. Fran- 
cois, who knew Paris as few men did, strode on through 
narrow streets and the dimly lighted passages which 
afforded opportunity to avoid the busier haunts of 
men. The barriers were carelessly guarded, and he 
passed unmolested into the country. Once outside of 
the city, he took the highroad to Evreux, down the 
Seine, simply because the passport of Jean Francois, 
juggler, pointed to Normandy as his destination. 
Naturally a man of forethinking sense, he had assumed 
that the village whence came Despard should be the 
home of that father who was ill. He knew from his 
former partner enough of the village to answer ques- 
tions. It lay westward of Evreux. France was then 
less full of spies and less suspicious than it became in 
the Terror; and until he arrived at a small town on the 
136 THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
137 
north bank of the Seine, not far from Poissy, he had 
no trouble. He saw no couriers. The post went only 
once a week. He was safe, and, to tell the truth, 
merry and well pleased again to wander. His money 
was sewed in his garments. He wore his rapier under 
his cloak, but with it he carried the conjurer’s thin, 
supple blade, which, when he feigned to swallow it, a 
spring caused to coil into the large basket-hilt. His 
pistols were strapped behind him, and on his back he 
carried his knapsack and small bag of juggling ap- 
paratus. Thus, clad in sober gray, with the tricolor 
on his red cap and a like decoration on the poodle’s 
collar, he was surely a quaint enough figure. Long, 
well built, and wiry, laughing large between his two 
wing-like ears, he held his way along the highroad on 
the bank of the winding Seine. 
He avoided towns and people, camped in the woods, 
juggled and told fortunes at farm-houses for a dinner, 
and, as I have said, had no trouble until he came at 
midday to the hamlet of lie Rouge. Here, being 
tired, and Toto footsore, he thought he might venture 
to halt and sleep at the inn. 
It was a little gray French town in the noonday 
quiet, scarce a soul in sight, and a warmer sun than 
January usually affords on street and steaming roof- 
tiles. Hostile dogs, appearing, seemed to consider 
Toto a Royalist. Francois tucked him under his arm, 
and carelessly entered the stone-paved tap-room of 
the “Hen with Two Heads.” He repented too late. 
The room was half full. One of the many commis- 
sioners who afterward swarmed through France was 
engaged with the mayor of the commune. Francois, 138 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
putting on an air of humility, sought out the inn- 
keeper, and asked meekly to have a room. As he did 
so, a fat man in the red bonnet of the Jacobins called 
out from the table where he sat, “ Come here! ” 
Francois said, “ Yes, citizen,” and stood at the table 
where this truculent person was seated. 
He was sharply questioned, and his papers and 
baggage were overhauled with small ceremony, 
while, apparently at his ease, he liberally distributed 
smiles and the kindly glances of large blue eyes. At 
last he was asked why he carried a sword; it was 
against the law. He made answer that he carried two 
tools of his trade—would the citizen see ? And when 
he had swallowed two feet of his juggler’s blade, to 
the wonder of the audience, nothing further was said 
of the rapier. At last, seeing that the commissioner 
still hesitated, he told, with great show of frankness, 
whither he was going, and named Despard as one who 
would answer for him. The mention of this name 
seemed to annoy the questioner, who said Despard 
was a busy fellow, and was stirring up the citizens at 
Musillon. He, Gregoire, was on his way to see after 
him. He should like to make the acquaintance of that 
sick father, and, after all, Francois might be an hnigrL 
He must wait, and go with the commissioner to Musillon. 
Francois smiled his best; and, when the citizen 
commissioner had done with business, might he amuse 
him with a little juggling? Citizen Gregoire would 
see; let him sit yonder and wait. After a few min- 
utes the great man’s breakfast was set before him; the 
room was cleared, and the citizen ate, while Francois 
looked him over. “HE HELD HIS WAY ALONG THE HIGHROAD.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
141 
Gregoire was a short, stout man with long hair, a 
face round, red, chubby, and made expressionless by 
a button-nose, which was decorated with a large 
rugose wart. The meal being over, he went out, 
leaving a soldier at the door, and taking no kind of 
note of his prisoner. Francois sat still. He was 
patient, but the afternoon was long. At dusk Citizen 
Gregoire reappeared, and, as Francois noted, was a 
little more amiable by reason of the vinous hospitality 
of the mayor. He sat down, and ordered dinner. 
When it came, Francois said tranquilly: 
“Citizen Commissioner Gregoire, wouldst thou 
kindly consider the state of my stomach ? Swallow- 
ing of swords sharpens the appetite.” 
The commissioner looked up from his meal. He 
was in the good-humored stage of drunkenness. 
“ Come and eat,” he said, laughing. 
“ He hath the benevolence of the bottle,” thought 
Francois. “ Let us amuse him.” 
The commissioner took off his red bonnet, poured 
out a glass of wine, looked at a paper or two in his 
hand-bag, and set it on a seat near by, while the 
juggler humbly accepted the proffered place. Then 
the poodle was made to howl at the name of Citizen 
Capet, and to bark joyously at the mention of Jacobins. 
Francois told stories, played tricks, and drank freely. 
The commissioner drank yet more freely. Francois 
proposed to make a punch,—a juggler’s punch,—and 
did make a drink of uncommon vigor. About nine 
the commissioner began to nod, and Francois, who 
had been closely studying his face, presently saw him 
drop into a deep slumber. The open bag looked 142 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
tempting. He swiftly slipped a dexterous hand into 
its contents, and feeling a wallet of coin, transferred 
it to his own pocket. The temptation had been great, 
the yielding to it imprudent; but there was no one else 
about, except the careless guard outside the door. 
Francois concluded to replace the wallet; but at this 
moment the great Gregoire of the committee woke up. 
“ That was funny,” he said. “ I did not quite catch 
the end of it.” 
“No,” said Francois; “the citizen slept a little.” 
Gregoire became angry. 
“I—I asleep? I am on duty. I never sleep on 
duty.” The citizen was very drunk. He got up, and, 
staggering, set a foot on Toto’s tail. The poodle 
yelped, and the Jacobin kicked him. “ Sacrde betel ” 
The poodle, unaccustomed to outrage, retorted by a 
nip at a fat calf. Then the great man asserted him- 
self. 
“ Hallo, there! Curse you and your dog! Land- 
lord ! landlord! ” The host came in haste, and two 
soldiers. “ Got a safe place ? Lock up this sc-scoun- 
drel, and k-kill his dog! ” The landlord kindly sug- 
gested a disused wine-cellar. “Now, no delay. I’m 
Gregoire. Lock him up! ” Having disposed of the 
juggler, the citizen contrived to get out of the room 
and to bed with loss of dignity and balance. 
A few minutes sufficed to set Francois in a chilly 
cellar, the poodle at his heels; for no one took seri- 
ously the order to kill Toto. Of the two soldiers, one, 
who was young and much amused, brought an old 
blanket, and a lantern with a lighted candle set within 
it. Yes, the prisoner could have his knapsack and THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
143 
bag—there were no orders; but lie must give up his 
sword. It was so dark that when FranQois promptly 
surrendered his juggler’s blade it seemed to satisfy 
the soldiers; for who could dream that a man would 
carry two swords ? With a laugh and a jest, Francois 
bade them to wake him early. He called to the young 
recruit, as they were leaving, that he would like to 
have a bottle of wine, and gave him sufficient small 
change to insure also a bottle for these good-humored 
jailers. 
They took the whole affair as somewhat of a prac- 
tical joke. All would be well in the morning. 
When Gregoire was drunk he arrested everybody. 
The young soldier would fetch the wine in an hour. 
Good night. 
Francois was alone and with leisure to consider the 
situation. 
“ Attention, Toto! ” he said. This putting of 
thought into an outspoken soliloquy, with the judicial 
silence of the poodle to aid him, was probably a real 
assistance; for to think aloud formulates conditions 
and conclusions in a way useful to one untrained to 
reason. To read one’s own mind, and to hear one’s 
own mind, are very different things. 
Toto,” he said, “ we are in a bad way. Why didst 
thou bite that fat beast’s calf f It did thee no good, 
thou ill-tempered brute. ’T is not good diet; a pound 
of it would make thee drunk. I shall have to whip 
thee, little beast of an aristocrat, if thou dost take to 
nipping the calves of the republic.” 
Toto well knew that he being scolded. He 
leaped up and licked the thief’s face. 144 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“ Down, Citizen Toto ! Where are thy manners ? 
I like better Citizen Gregoire drunk than Citizen 
Gregoire sober. How about my poor papa ? Oh, but 
I was an ass to name Despard. Didst thou observe 
that the commissioner’s eyebrows meet ? And, Toto, 
he has a great wart on his nose. ’T is a man will 
fetch ill luck. I knew a thief had a wart on his nose, 
and he was broken on the wheel at Rouen. Besides, 
there was the wallet. Toto, attention! Thou dost 
wander. It is all the doings of that sacre marquis. A 
has les aristocrates! Let us inspect a little.” Upon 
this he pried about every corner, tried the heavy oaken 
door, still gaily talking, and at last sat on an empty 
cask and considered the grated window and the 
limited landscape dimly visible between its four iron 
rods. The end of a woodpile, about four feet away, 
was all that he could see. This woodpile set him to 
thinking. 
An hour later the young recruit returned with the 
wine. “ I came to see if thou wert safe,” he said. 
“Like as not Gregoire will forget all about thee to- 
morrow. Wine hath a short memory.” 
Francois laughed. “ Le bon Dim grant it. I can 
tell fortunes, but not my own.” And should he tell the 
citizen soldier’s fortune ? With much laughter it was 
told, and the gifts of fateful time were showered on 
the soldier’s future in opulent abundance. He would 
be with the army on the frontier soon. He would 
marry—dame!—a woman rich in looks and lands. He 
would be a general one day. And this, oddly enough, 
came true; for he became a general of division, and 
was killed the morning after at Eylau. Seeing that THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
145 
this young man had agreeable fashions, the thief 
ventured to express his thanks. 
“ Monsieur—” he began. 
“ Take care! Mon Dieu! thou must not say that; 
‘citizen,’ please. The messieurs are as dead as the 
saints, and the devil, and the bon Dieu, and the rest.” 
As he did not seem displeased, Francois said: 
“Oh, thou art no Jacobin. Hast a De to thy 
name ? ” 
This recruit’s manners appeared to Francois a good 
deal like those of the young nobles whom he had 
taught to fence. 
“ What I was is of no moment,” replied the young 
fellow. “ The He’s are as dead as the saints. I am 
a soldier. But, pardon me, the citizen may be as frank 
as suits his appetite for peril. I have had my belly- 
ful.” 
“Frank? Dame! why not? Up-stairs I was a 
Jacobin; down here I am a Boyalist. I was an aide 
in Gamel’s fencing-school, and, pardie! I came away. 
Thou canst do me a little service.” 
“ Can I help thee, and not hurt myself? We—my 
people—are grown scarce of late. I am the last; I 
take no risks.” 
“There will be none. Bring me a little steel fork 
and a good long bit of twine.” 
« A fork! What for ? ” He had a lad’s curiosity. 
“ To eat with.” 
“ But there is nothing to eat.” 
“Quite true. But it assists one’s imagination; 
and, after all, there may be to-morrow, and to eat'with 
decency a fork is needed. A citizen may use his bare 146 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
paws, but a monsieur may not use the fingers of equal- 
ity. Thou wilt observe how the thought of these tools 
of luxury reminds one of messieurs and the like.” 
The lad—he was hardly over twenty—laughed 
merrily. “ Thou art a delightful companion. Gamel 
—thou didst say Gamel?” 
“I did, monsieur. Gamel that was the master of 
arms in the Rue St. Honore.” 
“My poor brother used to fence there. By St. 
Denis ! thou must be Francois! ” 
“ I am.” 
“Then thou shalt have the tool of luxury. But, 
good heavens! take care. Thou hast a tongue which 
—well, I have learned to bridle mine.” 
“ My tongue never got me into trouble; like my 
legs, it is long, and, like them, it has got me out of a 
good many scrapes. I thank thee for the warning. 
One knows whom to talk to. I can be silent. Oh, 
you may laugh. I did not speak for a day after I first 
saw that juggler’s tool, the guillotine, in the sun on the 
Place de la Revolution. Dieu! behold there is a man 
that talks and laughs; and, presto, pass! there is eter- 
nal silence.” 
“Arne de St. Denis! thou art not gay,” cried the 
soldier. 
“ Tete de St. Denis were better. He was a fellow 
for these times—a saint that could carry his head 
under his arm when it was chopped off.” 
The young recruit laughed, but more uneasily. 
Not to laugh in some fashion was among the impos- 
sibilities of life when this face-quake of mirth broke 
out between those wing-like ears. THE ADVENTUEES OF FEANgOIS 
147 
He would fetch the tools, and, in fact, did so in a 
few minutes. Then he hade Francois good night, and 
went away. As soon as he had gone, Francois retired 
to a corner with his lantern to inspect the wallet. 
There were three louis, a few sous, and no more. The 
risk was large, the profit small. In an inner pocket 
was a thin, folded paper. When opened it seemed to 
be a letter in due form, dated a month before, but 
never sent. It was addressed to Citizen de la Vicom- 
terie of the Great Committee. Francois whistled. It 
was a furious attack on Robespierre and Couthon, 
and an effort to sum up the strength which an assault 
on the great leaders would command in the Conven- 
tion—a rash document for those days. Clearly the 
writer, whose full signature of Pierre Gregoire was 
appended, had wisely hesitated to send it. 
“It seems to have been forgotten. Was he drunk, 
Toto ? Surely now we must get out and away. ’T is 
a letter of death; T is a passport worth many louis, 
Toto.” He pulled off a shoe, folded the paper neatly, 
and pulling up a tongue of leather on the inside sole, 
placed the letter underneath, and put on the shoe 
again. He took the louis, threw the wallet under a 
cask, and waited. 
When the house was still he set to work. He had 
found behind a barrel a long staff used to measure 
the height of wine in casks. On the end of this he 
tied securely, crosswise, the steel fork, and then began 
to inspect the thin rods of the window, which were but 
ill fitted to guard a man of resources. 
“Art still too fat?” he said, as he lifted Toto and 
managed to squeeze him between the bars. After that 148 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
he began to fish with his stick and fork for a small 
log which had fallen from the woodpile and was just 
a foot or two out of reach. Twice he had it, and twice 
it broke loose, but now Toto understood, and, seizing 
the log, dragged it nearer. At last Francois had the 
prize. The rest was easy. He set the log between 
the thin bars, and threw on this lever all the power of 
one of the strongest men in Paris. In place of break- 
ing, the iron rod bent and drew out of its sockets. A 
second proved as easy, and at last the window-space 
was free. It seemed large enough. He concluded to 
leave his bag; but the knapsack he set outside, and 
also his weapons and the conjuring-balls. Next he 
stripped off most of his clothes, and laid these too on 
the far side of the window. Finally his legs were 
through, and his hips. But when it came to the 
shoulders he was in trouble. It seemed impossible. 
He felt the poor poodle pulling at his foot, and had 
hard work to restrain his laughter. “ Dame ! would 
I grin at Mere Guillotine? .Who knows? How to 
shrink ? ” He wriggled; he emptied his chest of air ; 
he turned on his side; and, leaving some rags and a 
good bit of skin on the way, he was at last outside. 
Here, having reclothed himself, he broke up the wine- 
measurer and threw the fork over the wall. In a few 
minutes he was on the highway, and running lightly 
at the top of his speed. At dawn he found a farm- 
house which seemed to be deserted—no rare thing in 
those days. He got in at a window, and stayed for 
two days, without other food than the crusts he had 
carried from the cellar. The night after, weak and 
hungry, he walked till dawn; and being now a good THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
149 
ten leagues from that terrible commissioner, he ven- 
tured to buy a good dinner and to get himself set over 
the Seine. Somewhat reassured, he asked the way to 
Evreux, and, for once in his life perplexed and thought- 
ful, went along without a word to Toto. 
He had been three weeks on the way, owing to his 
need to hide or to make wide circuits in order to avoid 
the larger towns. It was now the February of northern 
France, and there was sometimes a little snow, but 
more often a drizzling rain. He had suffered much 
from cold; but as he strode along, with a mind more 
at ease, he took pleasure in the sunshine. A night 
wind from the north had dried the roads. It was calm, 
cold in the shadows, deliciously warm on the sun-lit 
length of yellow highway. He had lost time,—quite 
too much,—but he still hoped to reach Musillon be- 
fore that man with the wart arrived. If so, he would 
see Despard, warn him as to Gregoire, and, with this 
claim, and their old partnership, on which he counted 
less, he might get his passport altered, and lose him- 
self somewhere. If he had to remain in the town, he 
must see, or be presumed to have seen, that sick 
father, and must be promptly adopted if by cruel cir- 
cumstances he became unable to journey far enough 
from Paris to feel secure. The distorted face of Amar 
haunted him—the man who, to save his own life, 
would not even make believe to forgive. He had no 
power within him to explain a man like Amar; and 
because the Jacobin was to him incomprehensible, he 
was more than humanly terrible. What possessed 
that devil of a marquis to turn up ? And was he now 
at his chateau? And why had Achille Gamel set 150 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
down Normandy in the passport? And why had he 
himself been fool enough to fill up the vacant place 
for the name of his destination with that of the only 
small town he could recall in that locality ? He had 
been in haste, and now a net seemed to be gathering 
about him. He must go thither, or take perilous 
chances. He was moving toward a fateful hour. 
“ Toto,” he said, “ let us laugh; for I like not the 
face of to-morrow.” XV 
How Frangois finds Hespard and has a lesson in politics, 
and of what came of it. 
evening he ventured to enter an inn 
at Soluce. A good bed and ample diet 
|HI /\ |§||| restored his courage; but he learned that 
the citizen with a wart, and an escort of 
a dozen soldiers, had passed the day 
before, on their way to Evreux. Would he remain 
there, this friendly commissioner! No one knew. 
Evreux was Jacobin to the core. Then he thought of 
the marquis; it was well to be informed. 
Yes; the Citizen Ste. Luce lived beyond Musillon. 
The citizen juggler declared that he had once been in 
his service, but now that all men were equal, he could 
not lower the dignity of an equalized nation by serving 
him longer. He learned that the chateau of the mar- 
quis had not suffered, nor he, as he was never known 
to be absent, and no one molested him. This did 
not surprise Francois. In the South, at an earlier 
date, the peasants had burned hundreds of chateaux, 
but these riots had been mercilessly put down. The 
Jacobins meant to have peace in France, and at cost 
of blood, if that was requisite. To have peace at 
151 152 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
home was essential to the success of national defense 
on the frontier. In many parts of France, through- 
out the whole of the Terror, very many large land- 
owners were undisturbed. In fact, the Terror, and its 
precedent punishments, fell with strange irregularity 
on the provinces. The Dukes de Bethune-Charost, de 
Luynes, de Nivernais, and others who had not been 
active in politics, remained unhurt on their estates. 
For the Emigres was reserved a bitter hatred. Nor can 
we wonder at this result of the vast exodus which 
took place from ’89 to ’91—11V emigration joy euse,” as it 
was called by those who carried off means enough to 
live gay lives in Brussels while their country was in 
the convulsions of great social and political change. 
Francois made haste to leave at dawn, and by night- 
fall was close to the town of Musillon. He found a 
wood road, and was soon deep in one of the marquis’s 
forests. In a quiet glade among rocks he put his 
effects in security, and, charging Toto to guard them, 
set out to inspect the town. The poodle did not like 
it. He ran back and forth, whining. » 
“ Oh, stop that! ” cried Francois. “ Go back! 
Dost thou hear ?n 
Toto lay down, and set himself to secure what com- 
fort the situation afforded. 
Meanwhile Francois took to the main road until 
close to the village, and then left it for the fields, cau- 
tiously nearing the town, a small place of some twelve 
hundred souls. A monotonous double line of scattered 
one-story stone houses lay along the highway. Avoid- 
ing the village, Francois moved past and around the 
red-roofed Norman farm-houses which lay off from THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
the main highway. Mounds of earth set around the 
houses walled in an orchard and an inclosure of many 
acres, so that, seen from the exterior, they had the 
appearance of being fortified. The lights were out, 
and Francois saw no one. Now and then a sentinel 
dog barked as the wanderer went by the gateways, 
in wonder at this unusual style of fence. At last 
he turned again toward the road. 
The town was quiet. It was after nine at night. 
Having purposely lingered thus long, Frangois ap- 
proached the back of the inn, and became sure that it 
was empty of guests. A little beyond it was the vil- 
lage church, and as this was lighted, he approached 
it with care. The crosses of the burial-ground were 
gone. He stumbled over graves, and at last, standing 
on a tomb, got a fair glimpse of the interior of the 
church, for many of its windows were broken. It was 
full of people, and the murmur of noisy debate came 
to his ears. He felt that he must learn what was 
going on. With this in view, he kept under the deep 
shadow of the wall, and soon saw that the outer porch 
was crowded with men and women, listening through 
the open door. Favored by the darkness, he got un- 
observed into this mass of deeply occupied people, 
and was able at last to catch a little of what was going 
on. Yes; this was the club of Jacobins which his 
partner Despard had been sent to organize, one of the 
hundreds which soon conquered and led opinion all 
through the provinces. 
He caught the usual denunciation of emigres and of 
the ci-devant aristocrats. He had heard it all before; 
it did not help him. 154 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Very soon an elderly man in peasant dress arose 
near the door. He spoke of something which they 
had considered as well to be done soon. He thought 
it better to wait until Citizen Commissioner Gregoire 
arrived. To arrest a ci-devant aristocrat like Ste. Luce 
was of course proper; but the people were excited, and 
might do mischief, and they knew that the Great 
Committee did not approve of riots. France must 
have rest. These outbreaks had ended elsewhere in 
the deaths of hundreds of peasants. He bade them 
wait, and, in fact, spoke with rare good sense. He 
was roughly interrupted. His speech was received 
with laughter and contemptuous cries, and, to Fran- 
cois’s amazement, there was Despard on his feet, not 
twenty feet away. His old partner was somber-look- 
ing and red-eyed, but seemed to have lost his shy- 
ness of speech. He broke out into violent invectives, 
charging the previous speaker with indifference to 
the good of France. This man was no doubt a traitor. 
He had been in the service of the ci-devant. He had 
advised the people to wait. Were they not the rulers ? 
The Jacobin clubs would see to this rat of a commis- 
sioner ; let him come. Then, leaping on a chair, he 
began to contrast the luxury in which Ste. Luce lived 
with the meager life of the peasant. He talked of the 
great noble’s younger life, of his debauchery and 
hardness. All knew what he meant. Not he alone 
had suffered. How many of the children men liked 
to call their own were of noble blood ? 
His fluent passion, his ease of speech, his apparent 
freedom from his usual mood of fear, astonished 
Francois. At last Despard became more excited, THE ADVENTURES OP FRANCOIS 
155 
raved wildly, grew incoherent, paused, burst into hor- 
rors of blasphemous allusion, and, utterly exhausted, 
reeled, and dropped into his chair, amid wild applaud- 
ing cries and a dozen vain efforts of speakers eager to 
be heard. As if satisfied, the crowd waited no longer 
to listen, and issued out in just the mood Despard 
had desired to create. Frangois stepped aside, un- 
noticed. Among the last, surrounded by a gesticulat- 
ing group, came Despard, silent, exhausted, his head 
bent down. A voice cried out: “ To-night! Let us 
do it to-night! ” Despard said slowly: “ No, not to- 
night. He is not there—he is not there. Perhaps 
to-morrow; we shall see. I must have rest—rest.” 
“Is he mad?” thought Frangois. “Dicible! How 
he hates him ! Why is he not afraid ? ” He had once 
heard the choir-master tell of a feeble, timid nun who 
had killed two people; and this man, he supposed, 
might be, like her, crazed. No matter; he must use 
him. The crowd dispersed, and, following Despard at 
a distance, Frangois saw him enter the house of the 
village priest, who had long since said his last prayer 
in the garden of the Carmelites. 
For an hour, and until all was still, Frangois 
walked to and fro behind the house. Suddenly a 
door opened and closed. Frangois moved around the 
house. He saw Despard go out on the road. After 
looking about him, the Jacobin walked swiftly away, 
and was soon past the farthest houses. 
“ Dame! ” said Frangois, “ let us go after him. 
What can he mean ? It becomes amusing.” Moving 
with care in the shadows at the side of the road, he 
followed Despard, who walked down the middle of 156 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
the highway, now and then stopping short and crack- 
ing his finger-joints, as he used to do when worried, 
or clasping his hands over the back of his neck. 
The thief smiled as he went. He was again the 
savage of the streets, with all his keen wits in play, 
and vaguely aware of pleasure in the use of his train- 
ing. He looked about him, or stole noiselessly from 
one depth of gloom to another across some less shad- 
owed place. He put out with care one long leg and 
then the other tentatively, like great feelers, and yet 
got over the ground with speed, as was required, for 
Despard walked at a rate which was unusual. The 
great ears of his pursuer were on guard. Once, when 
Despard stopped of a sudden, Francois was near 
enough to hear him crack his knuckles as he pulled at 
them. As Pierre stood, he threw up a hand as it were 
in the eager gesture of a speech, or in silent, custom- 
born attestation of some mentally recorded vow. 
Then he went onward, silent, and was for a moment 
lost to view in the aisles of the forest into which he 
turned. Francois moved faster, dimly seeing him 
again. The Jacobin hurried on. The man who fol- 
lowed him was smiling in the darkness, and was feed- 
ing curiosity with the keen satisfaction he felt in a 
chase which was not without a purpose. 
Despard seemed to know the great forest well. It 
soon became more open. He came to a low garden 
wall, and, climbing it, was heard to tumble on the 
farther side with a crash of breaking earthenware. 
He had come down on a pile of garden pots. The 
thief reflected for a moment that his partner must 
have lost the agility of his former business, and him- THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
157 
self approached the wall with care. Moving to one 
side, he dropped to the ground, as quiet as a prowling 
cat. 
There was no moon, hut the night was clear, and 
over against the star-lit space he saw the silhouette of 
a vast chateau—angles, gables, turrets with vanes. 
The man whom he hunted moved across the garden, 
through rose-hedges, under trees, as if reckless as to 
being heard. Once he fell, but got up without even 
an exclamation; and so on and on in stumbling haste 
until he stood upon the broad terrace in front of the 
building. 
Francois was for a little while at leisure to look 
about him. Despard, with a sudden movement, strode 
to the foot of the broad steps which led up to the 
lofty doorway of the cMteau. Here again he stayed 
motionless. Francois, now used to the partial ob- 
scurity of the night, took quick note of the white 
gleam of vases, of a fountain’s monotonous murmur, 
of statues, dim gray blurs seen against the dark wood- 
spaces beyond; the great size of the house he saw, and 
that three or four windows showed lights within. 
What was Despard about to do ? Francois waited. 
Then he heard now and then, rising and falling, the 
faint notes of a violoncello. At this moment he saw 
that Pierre was gesticulating, and at last caught 
sound of speech. He was too far away to be clearly 
seen or distinctly heard. Francois sat down, took off 
his shoes, tied them over his neck, and went down on 
all fours. It was one of his old tricks to amuse thus 
the children gathered before the show-booth. He 
could become a bear or an elephant, and knew how to 158 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
simulate the walk of beasts. Now he approached 
Despard on his hands and feet, and, seen in the partial 
gloom, would have seemed a queer-looking animal. 
A closely clipped row of box lay between them and 
bordered the broad roadway leading to the portal. 
His approach was noiseless. Even if it had not 
been, it is unlikely that Despard would have noticed 
it. The quadruped knelt, and set his eyes to see and 
his ears to hear, being now only six feet away. His 
own fate was deeply involved. He cared little for the 
marquis, but up out of the dark of memory came the 
tender sweetness of the face of the widowed daughter. 
No word of her brief pleading was forgotten by this 
man who craved regard, affection, respect, considera- 
tion-all that he had not. It was only a flash of 
thought, and again he was intently receptive. 
Despard stood, shaking his arms wildly, looking 
here and there, up and down. At last he spoke, and 
so loud that Francois watched him, amazed at his un- 
natural lack of caution. 
“ To-morrow I, Pierre Despard, shall be master. I 
shall no more be afraid. I shall see thee tremble on 
the tumbrel. I shall see thee shudder at the knife.” 
Francois had an uncontrollable shiver, predictive, 
sympathetic. Could he trust this creature? There 
was no help for it. He recalled with a smile one of 
the Crab’s proverbs: “Monsieur Must is a man to 
trust.” She had many and vile sayings; this was one 
of the few that were not swine-wisdom. 
As the man went on speaking, his hands threatened 
the silent house or snatched at some unseen thing. 
He stood again moveless for a moment, and then THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
159 
threw out his hands as if in appeal, and called aloud: 
“ Renee ! Renee ! art thou here ? Oh, could he not 
have spared thee to me—to me, who had so little? 
And he had so much! Oh, for the name he should 
have spared thee ! For the shame—the shame. Re- 
nee, his own child’s name. My Renee is dead, and 
his—his Renee lives; but not long—not long.” 
“ Dieu! ” murmured Francois. “ Let him have the 
man. Dame! I should have killed him long ago.” 
Pierre was raving, and was only at times to be under- 
stood. He seemed to be seeing this lost Renee, and 
was now rational and again incoherent or foolishly 
vague. 
Francois hesitated; but at this moment a window 
on the second floor was cast open, and a man, who 
may have heard Despard, showed himself. Francois 
looked up, and saw a slight figure framed in the win- 
dow-space clear against the light behind him. 
Despard cried out in tones of terror: '‘The mar- 
quis ! the marquis! ” and, turning, fled down the ter- 
race and along the avenue. 
“ Queer, that,” muttered Francois. “ He is afraid. 
I must have him.” He put on his shoes in haste, and 
with great strides pursued the retreating figure, hear- 
ing, as he ran, the servant crying from the window, 
“ Who goes there ? ” 
A hundred yards away from the house, Despard, 
terrified at the nearing steps, turned into a side alley, 
and at last tore through a thicket to the left. 
In an instant Frangois had him by the collar. The 
captured man screamed like a child in a panic of alarm, 
while Frangois shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. 160 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“ Mille tonnerres! idiot, keep quiet! Don’t kick; it 
is no use. Thou wilt have the whole house after thee. 
’T is I—Francois. Keep quiet! Look at me—Fran- 
cois. Dost not hear ? ” At last he was quieted. 
“ What scared thee, mon amif ” 
“ I saw him—I saw the marquis! I saw him ! ” 
“Monsieur—the marquis? He is thrice that fel- 
low’s size.” 
They were now seated on the ground, Despard 
panting, and darting quick glances to right and left 
like a frightened animal. 
“ Come, Pierre, tell me what all this means. Art 
gone clean out of thy wits ? ” 
“ Why dost thou ask ? Thou dost know well 
enough. I have waited—waited. Now I have him.” 
“ Dame ! Thou ? Thou wilt never face him. Thou 
art afraid.” 
“I am now. I shall not be to-morrow night. 
There will be hundreds. I shall look! I shall see! ” 
“For Heaven’s sake,” cried Francois, “talk a little 
sense. A man who fears a mouse to talk of killing 
this terrible fellow! ” 
“ The law will kill him, not I. The law—the knife.” 
“ Stuff! A certain commissioner, Gregoire, is after 
thee, and, worse, after me. He hath a wart on his 
nose. I ran away to avoid those cursed Jacobins. 
Passport all right—name of Jean Francois. Mind 
thee! My father is old and failing. Thou wilt have 
to find me a papa. Gregoire has—he has doubts, this 
Gregoire. So have I. When I told him you were 
my friend, he shut me up in a cellar, and that I liked 
not. I was a fool to run away; but, mon Dieu! there THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
161 
was my errand—to see that poor father—all set out 
on my passport, and the man with the wart inquisi- 
tive. I had to get here and find my papa.” 
Another man’s difficulties took off Pierre’s mind 
from his own. He was clear enough now, and asked 
questions, some hard to answer, but all reasonable. 
Francois related his story. The fencing-master had 
fallen under suspicion and run away. He, Francois, 
likewise suspected, had got a passport from a Jacobin 
fencing-pupil, and come hither to fall on the neck of 
his dear friend Pierre. It was neat, and hung together 
well. It had many omissions, and as a whole lacked 
the fundamental quality of truth, but it answered. 
When a man’s head is set to save his head, it may not 
always be desirable to be accurate. 
Pierre reflected; then he cried out suddenly: 
“ This Gregoire! That for him! Let him take 
care. Art thou still a Royalist ? ” 
Francois was a Jacobin of the best, unjustly sus- 
pected. He was eager to know what deviltry was in 
Pierre’s mind as to this marquis; and there, too, was 
the daughter. If he meant to stir these peasants to 
riot in order to gratify himself and his well-justified 
hatred, that might sadly influence Francois’s fate. 
The central power m Paris was merciless to lawless 
violence which did not aid its own purposes. 
Francois talked on and on slackly, getting time 
to think. Pierre’s speech had troubled him. He 
was puzzled as he saw more distinctly the nature 
of the man whom he was forced to trust. He did 
not analyze him. He merely apprehended and dis- 
trusted one who was to-day a shrinking coward 162 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
and to-morrow a man to be feared less for what be 
might do than for what he might lead others to do 
when himself remote from sources of immediate phys- 
ical fear. Francois did not—-could not—fully know 
that he was now putting himself in the power of one 
who was the victim of increasing attacks of melan- 
choly, with intervals of excitement during which the 
victim was eagerly homicidal, and possessed for a 
time the recklessness and the cunning of the partly 
insane. 
“Come,” said Francois, at last; “you must hide 
me until you can find me that papa, or until Citizen 
Gregoire has come and gone. I like him not.” 
“Nor I,” said Pierre. “ But let him take care; I am 
not a man to be played with.” 
Francois said he should think not, but that if he 
meditated an attack on that miserable ci-devant yon- 
der, it were better to wait until Gregoire had come 
and gone. 
This caution seemed to awaken suspicion. Pierre 
turned, and caught Francois’s arm. “ Thou art a spy 
—a spy of the Convention! ” 
“ Thou must be more fond of a joke than wTas once 
thy way. Nonsense! I could go back and warn the 
marquis. That would serve the republic, and well, 
too; for, by Heaven! if thou art of a mind to burn 
houses, Robespierre will shorten thee by a head in no 
time.” 
“ Who talks of burning houses ? Am I a fool ? I— 
Despard ? ” 
“ No, indeed. Tliou—” Francois needed the man’s 
help, and felt that he was risking his own safety. He THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
163 
must at least seem to trust him. “ Dost thou mean 
to arrest Ste. Luce ? ” 
“ I do.” 
“ But when ? ” 
“ Oh, in a day or two; no hurry.” 
Francois knew that he was hearing a lie. u Good,” 
he said. “ But I advise thee against violence.” 
“ There will be none. I control these people. Thou 
shouldst see; thou shouldst hear me speak.” 
“ Let us go,” said Francois, and they returned to 
the village without a word on either side. The hamlet 
was quiet. At the priest’s door Francois said: “ Wait 
for me. I must fetch my bundle and Toto. I left them 
in the wood.” Pierre would wait. In an hour his ex- 
partner came back, and before he could knock was 
admitted by the anxious Jacobin. 
When they were within the house, he told Frangois 
that he lived alone. An old woman cooked for him, 
and came in the morning and went away at dusk. 
He, Francois, should have the garret; and, this being 
settled, they carried thither cold meats, bread, cheese, 
wine, and water, so as to provision the thief for a few 
days. There would be time to talk later. Francois 
asked a single question, saying frankly that he had 
heard Pierre speak to his club. Certainly he had 
power over the people. What was it he had meant to 
do, and when? Despard hesitated. Then the cun- 
ning of a crumbling mind came to his aid, and he re- 
plied lightly: 
“We shall wait till Gregoire has gone. I told thee 
so already. Thy advice was good. I do not know. 
We shall see—we shall see.” The door closed after 164 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
him. The man, descending the stair, paused of a sud- 
den, the prey of suspicion. Why did Francois come 
hither? Was he a spy of the marquis—of the Con- 
vention? He feared Francois. To one in his state 
of mind little obstacles seem large, great obstacles 
small. He must watch him. He was in his power. 
The man left within the room was not less suspi- 
cious. He hung a cover over the single window, locked 
the door, and lay down, with Toto at his feet, and at 
his side his rapier and pistols. He slept a tranquil 
sleep. Most of the next day he sat at the window, 
watching through a slit in the curtain the street below 
him. People came and went; groups gathered about 
the desecrated church; there was much excitement, 
but he could hear nothing. At dusk he saw a num- 
ber of men, some with sticks and pikes, come toward 
the priest’s house. Owing to his position, he lost 
sight of them as they came nearer, but from the noise 
below he presumed them to have entered. He was, 
for many reasons, indisposed to remain uninformed. 
He waited. The noise increased. Pierre had not 
come to visit him, as he had said he would; and where 
was that much-desired father? He laughed. “Ah, 
Toto, one must needs be his own papa.” He had gone 
about all day in his stocking-feet to avoid being over- 
heard. Now he bade Toto be quiet, and, opening the 
door, went cautiously down the stone stairway. It 
was quite dark. On the last landing he stood, intently 
listening. The hallway below was full of men, and 
evidently the two rooms on the ground floor were as 
crowded. He overheard Despard’s voice, angry and 
strenuous. The words he could not catch, but the THE ADVENTURES OP FRANCOIS 
165 
comments of those in the wide hall were enough. The 
commissioner was coming, and would interfere. Des- 
pard was right. The marquis was about to fly, to 
emigrate. He must be arrested. They poured out, 
shouting, tumultuous, to join the excited mob in the 
street. 
Francois went quickly up the stair. He cared 
little for the marquis, but he cared much for the pale 
lady whose face was stamped in his memory. More- 
over, all this ruin and threatened bloodshed were not 
to his mind. A day’s reflection had enabled him to 
conclude that, between Gregoire and Despard, the 
situation was perilous, and that he had better disap- 
pear from the scene. Meanwhile he would warn the 
marquis, and then go his way. 
He put on his shoes, took his bundle, his arms, and 
Toto, and, with his cloak on his shoulder, slipped 
quietly down-stairs. The house was empty. He went 
out the back way unseen, observing that the church 
was lighted, and seeing a confused mass of noisy 
peasants about the door. XVI 
How Frangois warns the Marquis de Ste. Luce, and of the 
battle on the staircase between the old day and the 
new. 
was now close to nine, and again a 
dglrI |||| bright, cold, starry night. A long cir- 
M I pT cuit brought him to the highroad. A 
m^e away struck into a broad avenue, 
and, never pausing, pushed on. His 
sense of locality was acute and like that of an animal. 
Once or twice he was sure that he heard dull noises 
behind him when the sharp night wind blew from the 
village. 
u Ah, Toto,” he murmured, “ keep thou close to heel. 
This is our greatest adventure. I would we were out 
of it. Ah, the chateau! ” He ran across the flower- 
beds, and with long leaps up the steps, and sounded 
a strong summons on the knocker of the great door. 
A servant opened it. “Where is the marquis ¥” 
What the man said he did not wait to hear. The 
lofty hall was dark, but the principal staircase was 
lighted faintly from above. Without a wrord, Fran- 
cois hurried past the servant and up the stairs. From 
the broad landing he saw beyond him a lighted draw- 
166 THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
167 
ing-room, and heard th.e notes of a violoncello. There 
was the woman, pale and beautiful, in black, her face 
upturned, the boy holding before her a sheet of music. 
The human richness of the cello’s tones sounded 
through the great chamber. Where had he seen the 
like? Ah, that picture in the vestry of Notre Dame 
—the face of St. Cecilia! He had a moment of in- 
tense joy at having come. Till then he had doubted 
if it were wise. As he stood, the marquis came to- 
ward him quickly from the side of the room, and two 
gentlemen left a card-table and started up. 
Francois went in at once, meeting the marquis 
within the room. The music ceased; the woman 
cried,11 Mon Dien!” Every one stared at this strange 
figure. 
11 What is it, my man ? Ventre St. Gris! ’t is my 
thief! This way,” and he led him aside into a little 
room, while the rest, silent and troubled, looked after 
them. 
“ Monsieur, to waste no words, these cursed peasants 
are on their way to do here what mischief the devil 
knows. It is you they want. There is a fool, one 
Despard, who leads them. But, Dieu! there is small 
time to think.” 
Francois, breathless, panting, stood looking about 
him, now as always observant, and curious as to this 
wonderful room and this impassive gentleman. Toto, 
as well blown as his master, recognizing the value of 
a soft rug, dropped, head on legs, meaning to have at 
least the minute’s luxury and rest. 
The marquis stood still in thought a moment. “ I 
am greatly obliged to you; and this is twice—twice. 168 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
I expected trouble, but not so soon. Come this 
way.” 
Francois followed. Toto kept one eye on him, and 
slept with the other. As they reentered the great 
salon, the two gentlemen and Mme. Renee, all visibly 
agitated, came to meet them. “What is it?” they 
asked. The marquis forestalled further inquiry. 
“ My daughter, our kindly peasants will be here in 
an hour—no, half an hour, or less. Resistance is use- 
less. To fly is to confess the need to fly; it is not to 
my taste. You gentlemen are better out of this. Go 
at once—at once! ” 
“ Yes, go! ” said madame. “ You cannot help us, 
and can only make bad worse.” 
They wasted no time, and few words passed. The 
little drama played itself quickly. 
“ Adieu, madame! ” Madame courtesied. The boy 
walked over and stood by his grandfather. He looked 
up at his clear-cut face, with its cold smile, and then 
at the backs of the retiring gentlemen. He had a 
boy’s sense of these being deserters. They were gone 
in hot haste. 
Mme. Renee came nearer. “We thank you—I 
thank you ”; and she put out her hand. Francois 
took it awkwardly. A touch of the hand of this high- 
bred, saintly lady, grande dame and true woman, sin- 
gularly disturbed the man. The tremor of a strange 
emotion ran over him. He let fall the soft hand, and 
drew himself up to the full of his unusual height, 
saying: “ It is little—very little.” 
“ And now you must go,” she said; “ and at once.” 
“Of course—of course,” said Ste. Luce. “Out the THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
169 
back way. Victor will show you.” There were no 
further thanks. All such common men had served 
the great noble; it seemed of the nature of things. 
But the woman said: 
“ God protect you! God will know to thank you. 
I cannot fitly. Go-go! ” 
“ I do not mean to go,” said Francois. “ Hark! it 
is too late.” He knew not then, or ever, why he stayed. 
The boy looked up at him. Here was another kind 
of man, and not a gentleman, either. Why did he 
not go? 
An old majordomo came with uncertain steps of 
nervous haste, crying: “The servants are gone, 
monsieur! The people are coming up the avenue! 
Mon Dieu ! ” 
“ Indeed! Now be off with you, Master Thief.” 
“ No.” His head said, “ Go ”; his heart said, 
“ Stay.” 
“ By St. Denis, but you are a fool! ” 
Francois muttered that he had been that always, 
and then felt the hand of the boy touch his own. He 
called: “ Toto ! Toto ! We will stay.” And the dog, 
at ease in all society, selected a yet softer rug. 
The marquis troubled himself no further as to Fran- 
cois. He went out of the room, and was back in a min- 
ute, while the uproar increased, and Mme. Renee, at the 
window, pleaded with the thief, urging him to fly, or 
cried: “ They are coming! Oh, a crowd—a mob— 
with torches and arms! The saints protect us! Why 
will you not go ? Oh, mon pere—father! thou hast thy 
rapier. What canst thou against hundreds—hun- 
dreds ? ” 170 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
The marquis smiled. “ Costume de rigueur, my dear. 
There will be no bloodshed, my child.” 
“And they will all run,” cried the boy. “ And if 
grandpapa has to surrender, he must give up his 
sword. When my papa was taken in America, he 
had to-” 
“ Hush! ” said the mother. The lad was singularly 
outside of the tragic shadows of the hour. 
Francois all this while stood near the window, his 
cloak cast back, his queer, smile-lit face intent now on 
the mob without, now on the woman, the boy, the 
man. “Dame!” he muttered. “We are in danger- 
ously high society.” He set his knapsack aside, cast 
off his cloak, loosened his rapier in its sheath, looked 
to the priming of his pistols, and waited to see what 
would happen when this yelling thing out yonder 
should burst into action. 
“ They must have made mad haste, madame.” 
“ They are on the terrace. Mother of Heaven ! ” 
cried the woman. “ They wait! A man is speaking 
to them. They have torches. Some go—some go to 
right around the house.” A stone splintered the win- 
dow-glass, and she fell back. “Wretches! ” 
The marquis turned to her. “ Stay here. I go to 
receive our guests.” 
“No, no! ” 
“ Do as I tell thee. Be still.” She caught the boy 
to her, and fell into a chair, sobbing. The marquis 
called to the quaking majordomo: “ Take those two 
candelabra. Set them at the foot of the staircase— 
the foot.” The old servant obeyed without words. 
The marquis went by him. He seemed to have for- THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
171 
gotten Francois, who glanced at Mme. Renee and fol- 
lowed the master of the house. 
There had been a moment’s lull outside. The double 
stairway swept down to a landing, and then in one 
noble descent to the great deserted hall, where the 
faded portraits of lord and lady looked down among 
armor and trophies of war and chase. 
“ Put those lights there—and there. Get two more 
—quick! Set them on the brackets below. One must 
see. Put out the lights in the drawing-room. What, 
you here yet, Master Thief ? What the devil are you 
doing here ? The deuce! ” As he spoke they were 
standing together on the broad landing, before them 
the great stair which led down to the illuminated hall 
below. The marquis had meant to meet these people 
outside; he was quiet, cool, the master of many re- 
sources. Surprised at the suddenness of the outbreak, 
he still counted, with the courage of habit, on his per- 
sonal influence and address. As the marquis spoke, 
the roar without broke forth anew. A shower of 
stones clattered on door and wall and window with 
sharp crash and tinkle of breaking glass. It was fol- 
lowed by an indescribable tumult—shouts, laughter, 
the shrill voices of women, a multitudinous appeal to 
fear, ominous, such as no man could hear unmoved. 
The animal we call a mob was there—the thing of 
moods, like a madman, now destructive, now as a 
brute brave, now timid as a house-fly. 
They beat on the great doors, and of a sudden 
seemed to discover that the servants, in flying, had 
not secured them. The doors gave way, and those in 
front were hurled into the hall by the pressure of 172 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
those behind. In an instant it was half full of peas- 
ants armed with all manner of rude weapons. A 
dozen had torches of sheep’s wool wrapped about 
pitchforks and soaked with tar. Their red flames 
flared up, with columns above of thick smoke. There 
were women, lads. None had muskets. Some looked 
about them, curious. Those without shouted and 
pressed to get in; but this was no longer easy. A 
few of the boldest began to move up the lower steps 
of the great staircase. At the landing above, in par- 
tial obscurity, stood the marquis and Francois. On 
the next rise behind them were Mme. Renee and her 
boy, unnoticed, unwilling to be left alone. The stair- 
way and all above it were darker than the red-lighted 
hall, where ravage was imminent. A man struck 
with a butcher’s mallet a suit of armor. It rang with 
the blow, and fell with clang and rattle, hurting a 
boy, who screamed. The butcher leaped on the ped- 
estal and yelled, waving one of the iron gauntlets. 
They who hesitated, leaderless, at the foot of the dark 
ascent turned at the sound of the tumbled past. 
The marquis cried aloud, “ Halt, there! ” 
Some mischievous lad outside cast a club at the 
side window of the hall, and the quartered arms of 
Ste. Luce, De Rohan, and their kin fell with sharp, 
jangling notes on the floor and on the heads of the 
crowd. 
“ Halt, I say! ” The voice rang out of the gloom, 
strong and commanding. The marquis’s sword was 
out. “Draw, my charming thief. Morituri te salu- 
tant! ” 
“ What ? ” cried Francois— “ what is that ? ” THE ADVENTURES OE FRANCOIS 
173 
u Nothing. We are about to die; that is all. Let 
us send some couriers to Hades. You should have 
gone away. Now you are about to die.” 
Francois drew his long rapier. He was strangely 
elated. “We are going to die, Toto.” The dog 
barked furiously. “ Keep back! ” cried his master. 
Then he heard Pierre Despard’s shrill voice cry out : 
“ Surrender, Citizen Ste. Luce, or it will be worse for 
thee.” The mob screamed: “ Despard! Despard! ” 
He was hustled forward, amid renewed shouts, cries, 
crash of falling vases, and jangling clatter of broken 
glass. The reluctant leader tried to keep near to the 
door. The mob was of other mind. He was thrust 
through the press to the foot of the stair, with cries 
of 11 Vive Despard! Vive Despard! ” The people on 
the stair, fearing no resistance, were pushed up, 
shouting, “ A has les emigres! ” 
“ Now, then! ” cried the marquis. “ Get back there, 
dogs! ” The two blades shot out. A man fell; an- 
other, touched in the shoulder, screamed, and leaped 
over the balustrade; the rest fell away, one man on 
another, with shrieks and groans. Francois caught a 
lad climbing on the outside of the gilded rail, and, 
with a laugh, threw him on the heads of those below. 
A joy unknown before possessed the thief—the lust 
of battle, the sense of competency. He took in the 
whole scene, heart, mind, and body alive as never 
before. 
“ Sang de St. Denis! You are a gallant man. But 
we are lost. They will be on our backs in a moment; 
I hear them.” Amid a terrible din, stones and sticks 
flew. A pebble struck the marquis in the face. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“ Dame! ” lie cried, furious, and darted down a step or 
two, the quick rapier mercilessly stabbing here and 
there. One madder than the rest set a torch to a 
priceless tapestry. It flared up, lighting the great 
space and the stair, and doing in the end no harm. 
Despard, terrified, was pushed forward to the edge of 
the fallen bodies on the staircase. 
“ Surrender! ” he called out in a shriek of fear, for 
here before him were the two men he most dreaded 
on earth. The noise was indescribable. The butcher 
beat with the iron gauntlet on a shield beside him; 
then he threw the steel glove at Francois. It flew 
high. There wras a cry from the space behind. The 
little boy screamed shrilly, “They have killed my 
mama! ” 
Francois looked behind him. There was now light 
enough, and too much. He saw the woman lying, a 
convulsed, tumbled heap, on the stair. The marquis 
glanced behind him, and lost his cool quietude. He 
ran down the stair, stabbing furiously. A half-dozen 
dead and wounded lay before him. In an instant he 
was back again beside Francois, his face bleeding from 
the stones and sticks thrown at him. Francois was 
standing, tall and terrible in his anger, a pistol in his 
hand. 
“ Shall I kill him, monsieur ? ” 
“ By Heaven, yes! ” 
The pistol resounded terribly in the vaulted space, 
and the brute who had thrown the gauntlet, swaying, 
screamed shrilly, and tumbled—dead. 
“ Give me your hand ! ” cried the marquis. “ Thank 
you, monsieur; the devil hath a recruit. Now fol- THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
175 
low me. Let ns kill and die. To hell with this 
rabble! ” 
“Wait,” cried Francois, and, running down the 
steps, put out a long arm and caught Despard. He 
hauled him savagely after him, calling out, “ Hold the 
stair a moment! ” In an instant he was on the land- 
ing above, with his prey. His sword he let fall, and 
set a pistol to Despard’s head. The terror of the 
trapped Jacobin was pitiful. He prayed for life. He 
would let them all go; he would—he would. Fran- 
cois swung him round to face the suddenly silenced 
mob. “ Keep still, or I will scatter your brains, fool! 
Tell them to go! Tell them to go, or, sang de Dieu! 
thou art a dead man ! ” 
Pierre screamed out his orders: “Go—go—all of 
you. I order—go ! ” 
The beast he had trained and led was of no such 
mind. A man called out, “ Die like a man, coward! ” 
A stone or two flew. One struck him. The storm 
broke out anew. 
“ Say thy prayers. Thou art dead. Shall I kill him, 
monsieur ? ” 
“ No, no; not that man—not him!n 
11 Mercy! ” screamed Despard. 
“ The deuce! ” laughed Francois. “ It gets warm, 
monsieur. What to do with this coward ? Keep still, 
insect! ” 
The mob had for a little time enough of these ter- 
rible swordsmen on the stair. It was awed, helpless. 
Below lay, head down or athwart, three dead men, 
and certain wounded, unable to crawl. The mob 
shrank away, and, with eyes red in the glare, swayed 176 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
to and fro, indecisive, swearing. For a moment no 
more missiles were thrown. They awaited the expected 
attack from the rear of the house. 
Pierre hung, a limp, inert thing, one arm on the 
balustrade, the thief’s strong clutch on his neck, 
making his shivering bulk a shield against stick and 
stone. 
“It will soon be over,” said the marquis, quietly. 
“ There! I thought so.” 
A dull roar was heard, and the crash of broken 
glass from somewhere behind them. 
This signal set loose the cowed mob. Clubs and 
stones flew. Something struck Pierre. He squealed 
like a hurt animal, pain and terror in the childlike cry. 
More men crowded in, and the mass, with shout and 
cry, surged forward, breaking mirrors and vases, with 
frantic joy in the clatter of destruction. 
“ It is serious this time,” cried the marquis. “ Adieu, 
my brave fellow.” Another tapestry flared up, slowly 
burning. “ Let us take toll, Francois. Come! ” 
“ Good, monsieur! But my fool here—” 
At this moment the crowd at the door divided. A 
dozen soldiers broke in, and with them the man of the 
wart—Gregoire. 
“Darnel" cried Francois; “the Commissioner GrA 
goire! The wart! It is time to leave.” 
“Order, here,” shouted Gr6goire, “in the name of 
the law! ” The guard pushed in and made a lane. 
One or two persistent rioters were collared and 
passed out. A dead silence fell on all. The shreds 
of the tapestry dropped. The mob fell back. 
“ Help! help l ” cried Pierre. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
177 
“ Morbleu! dost thou want to die ? ” 
“ It is over,” said the marquis. “ I prefer my peas- 
ants.” 
Gregoire called out, “Where is the mayor?” A 
reluctant little man appeared. 
“ Commissioner, these men have slain citizens,” he 
said. 
“And they did well. France wants order. Out 
with you all, or I shall fire on you. Citizens indeed! 
See to that stuff burning.” 
The peasants, awed, slunk away. Gregoire coolly 
mounted the stairs. 
“ Hold! ” cried the marquis. 
“ I arrest thee in the name of the law! Here is my 
order.” 
The marquis took it. 
“The light is bad,” he said; “but I see it is in 
good form. The law I obey—and muskets”; and 
then, in a half-whisper to Francois: “ Run! run! I 
will hold the stairs.” 
Gregoire overheard him. 
“ The citizen emigre! I arrest him! ” and he went 
up a step. 
“ Back! ” cried the marquis, lunging fiercely at the 
too adventurous commissioner, who leaped down the 
stairway with the agility of alarm. 
“ Fire! ” he cried. 
“ Thanks, monsieur; I can help you no more! ” cried 
Francois. As he spoke, he hurled the unhappy Des- 
pard on top of the commissioner. They fell in a 
heap. The thief, catching up his rapier, was off and 
away through the drawing-room, seeing, as he went, 178 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
the woman lying on the floor, her forehead streaming 
blood. He picked up his cloak and knapsack, and, 
followed by Toto, ran for his life down a long corri- 
dor to the left. At the end, he threw open a window, 
and dropped, with the dog under his arm, upon the 
roof of a portico over a side door. No one was near. 
He called the dog, and fled through the gardens and 
into the woods of the chase. XYII 
Of how Frangois, escaping, lives in the ivood; of how he 
sees the daughter of the marquis dying, and knows not 
then, or ever after, what it tvas that hurt him; of how 
he becomes homesick for Paris. 
SHE forest was of great extent, and inter- 
sected by wood roads. Along one of 
these Francois ran for an hour or more, 
until he was tired, and had put, as he 
believed, some miles between himself 
and the citizen with the wart. The way became more 
narrow, the forest more dense. At last there was 
only a broad path. Now and then he saw the north 
star, and knew that he was traveling southward. He 
came out at dawn on an open space, rocky and barren, 
a great rabbit-warren, as he knew by the sudden 
stampede of numberless rabbits. He turned aside 
into the woods, and a few hundred yards away found 
a bit of marsh, and beyond it a brook, with leaf-cov- 
ered space beneath tall plane-trees, now bare of foli- 
age. He drank deep of the welcome water, and sat 
down with Toto to rest and think. 
uMon ami,” he said, “we like adventures; but this 
was a little too much.” Then he laughed at the 
179 THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
180 
thought of Pierre’s terror; but the man with the wart 
was not so funny, and the poor lady who was St. 
Cecilia, and that cold-blooded devil of a marquis— 
“ What a man! ” 
Here were rabbits for food, and only a forest bed, 
but, on the whole, better than the Conciergerie or the 
Chatelet. He slept long, and was cold, fearing to 
make a fire. About eleven next morning he left Toto, 
and went with care to the edge of the wood. He 
heard noises, and saw boys setting traps; for now my 
lord’s rabbits were anybody’s rabbits. The traps 
pleased him. He slipped away. At evening, being 
dreadfully hungry, he went to the warren, took two 
rabbits out of the traps, and went back. The man’s 
patience was amazing: not until late at night did he 
make a fire to cook his meat; but Toto, less exacting, 
was fed at once with the raw flesh. 
A week went by, with no more of incident than I 
have mentioned. He explored the woods day after 
day, and a half-mile away found a farm, whence at 
night he took toll of milk, having stolen a pail to aid 
him. It was all sadly monotonous, but what else 
could he do ? Once, after a fortnight, he was bold 
enough to wander in daylight within the woods near 
the chateau. It was apparently deserted; at least, he 
saw no signs of habitation; nor, later at night, when 
he went back, were there lights, except in one room on 
the ground floor. 
Francois approached with caution, and, looking 
through a window, saw an old man seated by the fire. 
Making sure that he was alone, the wanderer tapped on 
the pane. The man at the hearthside looked up, and “THE WANDEBEK TAPPED ON THE PANE.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
183 
Francois saw, as he had suspected, that he was the 
majordomo. Again Frangois tapped, and observing 
the inmate move toward the door, he hurried thither, 
As they met, Francois hastened to say that he was the 
man who aided the marquis, having himself had the 
luck to escape. Once reassured, the old majordomo 
urged Frangois to enter. But this he would not do. 
He had had enough of house-traps. In the forest they 
would be secure. To this the servant agreed, and fol- 
lowed him at once. When at last in the woodland 
shelter, Frangois asked: “What of the marquis?” 
He had been taken by Gregoire toward Paris, but 
was said to have made his escape. “ A hard man to 
hold is my master; and as to the village, it has had 
to pay right dearly, too.” Pierre had been arrested, 
but was soon set free. And the little gentleman? 
He had been taken to a cousin’s house in eastern 
Normandy. Frangois hesitated over his final question; 
he himself could not have told why. 
“ And Mme. Renee ? ” he exclaimed, and bent for- 
ward, intent. 
“The countess?” 
“ I did not know. Is she a countess ? Mme. Renee 
—what of her?—she who was hurt. I passed her; 
she lay on the upper stair. There was blood—blood. 
The little boy cried to me to help her. My God! I 
could not. I—tell me, was she badly hurt?” 
“She is dying, monsieur. Something—a gauntlet, 
they say—struck her head. She has known no one 
since.” 
“ Where is she ? ” 
“In the chateau, with a maid and her aunt. She 184 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
was too ill to be taken away. She is dying to-night. 
They say she cannot last long. God rest her soul! 
’T is the end of everything.” 
The thief stood still a minute; then he said reso- 
lutely, “I must see her.” This the old servant de- 
clared impossible; but when Francois swore that he 
would go alone, he finally consented to show him 
the way, insisting all the time that he would not 
be let in. 
In a few minutes they were moving down a long 
corridor on the second floor. All was dark until the 
majordomo paused at a door under which a line of 
light was to be seen. Here he knocked, motioning his 
companion to keep back a little. The door opened, 
and a gaunt middle-aged lady came forth. 
“ What is it ? ” she said. 
“ This man—this gentleman would see the countess.” 
“What do you want?” she said, facing Francois. 
“ My niece is dying—murdered. You have done your 
cruel work. Would you trouble the dead?” 
“ Madame,” said Francois, “ I am he who held the 
stair with the marquis. I am no Jacobin. I shot the 
man who wounded the countess.” 
“You! He is dead.” 
“ Thank God! May I see the lady ? ” 
“ She is dying; why should you see her ? ” 
u Madame, I am a poor unhappy thief. Once this 
lady offered me help—a chance, a better life. I was 
a fool; I let it go by. I—let me see her.” 
“ Come in,” said the gentlewoman; and, with no 
more words, he entered after her, and approached the 
bed, leaving his dog outside. What he beheld he THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
185 
neither forgot nor, I believe, save in his memoirs, ever 
spoke of to any one. 
He saw a white face on the pillow; a deep-red spot 
on each cheek; eyes with the glaze of swift-coming 
death. He fell on his knees beside her, and stayed 
motionless, watching the sweat on the brow, the breath 
quicken and then stop as if it would not come again. 
At last he touched the hand. It was cold, and he 
withdrew his own hand, shrinking back. He had seen 
death, but no death like this. He said, “ Madame.” 
There was no answer. He looked up at the older 
woman. “ She is dying; she does not hear.” 
“No; nor ever will in this world.” 
He turned, bent down, and kissed the fringe of the 
coverlet. Then he arose, shaken by the strongest 
emotion life had brought to him. 
“ I thank you,” he said, and moved to the door. 
He paused outside. 
“ Are you sure the beast is dead—the man who did 
that—that ? ” 
“Yes.” 
“I am sorry—sorry.” He shook his long arms in 
the air. “I should like now to kill him again— 
again ! ” He walked swiftly away, and, not waiting 
for the servant, left the house and found his way back 
to his forest shelter. 
All night long he sat without a fire, indifferent to 
poor Toto’s efforts to get a little notice, not feeling the 
cold, a sorely wounded man, with a scar on his mem- 
ory which no after happiness could ever erase. 
The next night he found the majordomo, and learned 
that the countess was dead. He took away blankets 186 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
and the provisions bountifully supplied, and once 
more rejoined his dog. 
In this manner the last days of February were 
passed; and in March the spring began to appear, but 
with it a new peril. The woodmen went here and 
there at work, and thrice he narrowly escaped being 
seen. Early in April his friend the majordomo disap- 
peared, and the great chateau was infested with men 
who came and went—for what he knew not. 
He began to be troubled with a feverish desire to 
see the streets of Paris. At last he made up his mind 
to leave his forest shelter; and sometime in April, 
having hesitated long, he set out. He hid all day in 
woods, and walked at night, until he reached the 
Seine. With this as a guide, he went on, robbing 
hen-houses of eggs, and milking cows, until he was 
close to Paris. How to enter it he did not know. 
The times were doubly dangerous. Spies and suspi- 
cion were everywhere to be dreaded. His papers had 
no certifications from the places he was presumed to 
have visited. Formidable in the background he saw 
the man Gregoire, the commissioner with the wart of 
ill luck. 
How the thief and his dog lived near to Paris in 
woods and fields, there is no need to tell in detail. 
The month of June was come in this year of 1793. 
Marat was ill, and Charlotte Corday on her way to 
forestall the decree of nature. La Vendee was up. 
The Girondists had fallen, the great cities of the South 
were in uproar, the enemy was on the frontier, and 
the rule of France in the competent and remorseless 
hands of the Committee of Public Safety. All around “HE SAW A WHITE FACE ON THE PILLOW.’ THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
189 
Paris the country was infested with wandering people 
who, for the most part, like Francois, had good reason 
to fear. There were beggars, thieves, persecuted 
nobles, those who had no mind to face the foe as vol- 
unteers. Now and then Francois, ever cautious, 
picked up a little news on a scrap of gazette found by 
the wayside. He read that Citizen Amar was of the 
Great Committee of General Security. Francois 
laughed. 
“ Toto, dost thou think this will add to thy master’s 
security ? That was the gentleman with the emigra- 
tive mouth. Ami, he is still alive. They must be 
tough, these Jacobins. What fun, Toto! I can see 
him pinned to the door like a beetle, and that marquis 
with a face, Toto, like a white plaster cast those Ital- 
ians used to sell. 
u I like not M. Amar. Toto, we are unhappy in our 
acquaintances. But the man of the wart is the 
worst.” This was Francois’s black beast 5 why, he 
could not have said. Amar, le farouche, was really 
a more fatal foe. The citizen who dressed neatly, and 
wore spectacles over green eyes, and was in debt to 
the conjurer for a not desirable forecast of fortune, 
was a yet more sinister acquaintance. Yet it was 
Citizen Gregoire who came to Francois in dreams, and 
the bare thought of whom could chop short a laugh as 
surely as Mother Guillotine, the merciless. XVIII 
Wherein is told how Francois reenters Paris, and lodges 
with the Crab; and of how Toto is near to death by the 
guillotine. Frangois meets Bespard and the marquis, 
who warns him and is warned. 
a FEW days later, when lying behind a 
deserted hut at dusk, Francois heard a 
noise of military music, and ventured 
forth on the road leading to the barrier. 
Many hundreds of the wounded from 
the frontier were passing, in wagons or on foot. The 
communes and clubs were out to meet them. The 
cabarets outside of the gate poured forth a noisy 
company. The road was full. Who should stop the 
free citizens or the ladies of the fish-market, come 
to welcome patriot volunteers? Here was an escort 
of troops, wild, triumphant greeting of captured 
Austrian flags, many wounded in wagons, many 
more afoot, marching wearily. Those who walked 
the people must aid. The ranks were soon broken, 
and all was good-natured tumult. Here was help for 
heroes—wine, bread, eager aid of an arm. Some 
who were dragging along on crutches, to get a little 
relief from jolting wagons, were hoisted, to their dis- 
190 THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
191 
comfort, on the shoulders of friendly patriots not 
eager to volunteer. 
Francois, tucking Toto under his cloak, edged 
himself into the broken ranks of the heroes of Hond- 
schoote and Wattignies. “We are many,” he said 
to a man beside him, as tattered as he, for there was 
scarcely a rag of uniform. “ Jolly to get home again! ” 
“ Sacre ! not if they guillotined thy father a week 
ago.” 
“Dame! is that so? But patience, and hold thy 
tongue, citizen. Tonnerre! my leg.” He was limping. 
“ Thy shoulder, friend ”—to a blouse. “ Tiens! that 
is better. The Austrian bullets have a liking for one’s 
bones. Crack! crack! I can hear them yet. They 
do not spare the officers any more than they do the 
privates.” 
Should they carry the citizen officer—take care of 
his sword ? Francois thanked them; the citizens must 
be careful of his leg; and there was Francois on the 
shoulders of two big Jacobins, like a dozen more; for 
it was who should help, and a shouting, good-humored 
crowd. Francois was not altogether well pleased at 
his elevation; he dropped forward his too well-known 
face. There was a jam at the barrier. Had these 
citizen soldiers their passes, as provided? Francois 
was weak; he suffered, poor fellow! The Jacobins and 
the women roared derisively: “Passes for heroes?” 
All order was lost. They were through, and in the 
Rue d’Enfer. Would the good citizens let him walk? 
He was heavy, and they were pleased to be relieved 
of one hundred and ninety-five pounds of wounded 
hero. 192 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Meanwhile there was some renewed order in the 
broken formation; yet now and then men fell out 
to meet sweethearts or friends, usually coming back 
again to the ranks. The hint was good. 
“ del! comrade, there is my mother! ” The crowd 
gave way as the hero hobbled out of the line. He 
called out: “ Mere, mere—mother! Here! ;T is I 
—Adolphe. The deuce! she is so deaf.” 
Where was she ? Citizens were eager to help him. 
“ Ah,” he cried, “ she saw me not ”; and, turning into 
a side street near the asylum, limped painfully in 
pursuit of the mother who was afflicted with deafness. 
Toto followed. Once around a corner, the lameness 
disappeared. In the gathering dusk he set out for 
the Cite. 
“ It must be Quatre Pattes, Toto. Come along. A 
bad year, my friend, to have lost a father and a 
mother. No matter; we are in Paris.” 
He loved the streets. “Ah, there is Notre Dame 
and the river! ” He was happy, and went along 
laughing, and at last turned into a small cafe near 
to his old home in the Rue des Chanteurs. 
He was tired and hungry, and, as he agreeably 
remembered, well off, having had small chance to 
spend the money with which he had been generously 
provided by Acliille Game! The bread and cheese 
were good, and the wine was not bad. He asked for 
tobacco and a pipe. Would the host find him “ L’Ami 
du Peuple”? He was a sublieutenant, wounded on 
the frontier; but, dame! to get home was happiness. 
Two men sat down by him, and talked. Good 
Jacobins were these, in the dirty uniforms of the THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
193 
sansculotte army which kept Paris in order at the 
rate of forty sous a day. “ Bad wages, citizen lieu- 
tenant,” they said. 
The hero of the frontier was worse off—no pay for 
three months. He related his battles; and now he 
must go. 
“Come, Toto.” Toto had been wounded at Wat- 
tignies; he was well now, and would be promoted. 
“Bon soir, comrades.” In fact, he was wildly gay, 
glad to be back in Paris. 
He paused, at last, before a house of the date of 
Henri II. Its heavy, narrow door, and a slit in the 
wall for a window, told of days when every man’s 
house was a fortress. 
“ It is our best chance, Toto; but best may be bad. 
We must do something.” He jingled the bell. The 
cord was drawn by the concierge within, so as to lift 
the latch, and Francois entered the hall. To right 
was the Crab’s den, and there within was Quatre 
Pattes. He saw the thin purple nose, the bleared red 
eyes, the bearded chin, and the two sticks. 
“ Mille tonnerres! my child, it is thou. And where 
hast thou been? There is no thief like thee. Come 
and laugh for thy old mother.” She welcomed him 
in thieves’ slang, vile, profuse, and emphatic. Had 
he any money ? Yes, a little; business was good in 
the provinces; and would she house him ? Here was 
a louis d’or for maman; and what was this abominable 
carte de surete, this new trap? She explained. He 
need have no fear; she would get him one. He had 
been in bad company, she had heard; for a Jacobin 
had told her of the fencing-school, and thither, too 194 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
late, she had gone to get a little help. He had nearly 
killed A mar, le farouche, and that injured citizen was 
said to desire his society. But that was long ago; 
and Paris lived fast, and was gay, and forgot easily. 
Francois had no wish to refresh Citizen Amar’s 
memory. He asked lightly if she had ever seen 
Gregoire, the commissioner to Normandy? 
Mme. Quatre Pattes had never seen him. He was 
of the Great Committee—a patriot of the best, like 
herself. Did he know Gregoire ? He told her frankly 
that he had been arrested by Gregoire, and had 
escaped. 
“ Thou art the first, my child! ” she cried, her jaws 
champing as if she were eating. u Thou hast a fine 
taste in the choosing of enemies. I would not be in 
thy skin for a hundred louis; and now a cat of the 
night thou must be. I can hide thee awhile; and if 
thou dost feed me well, the mama-crab will care for 
thee. No one need know thou art here. Come, get 
thee a few louis, and we will buy a fine card of safety, 
and christen thee to suit. Ha, ha! my little one ! ” 
and she beat with her sticks on the floor. 
Our thief was now back in his garret, having lost 
as many fair chances of prosperity as did Murad 
the Unlucky. He reflected much in these late au- 
tumn months of 1793, being for his wants rich, and 
therefore in no necessity to give a thought to meth- 
ods of getting his daily diet. During the daytime 
Quatre Pattes insisted on his secluding himself in 
his garret. At night he left Toto with the Crab, 
who fed him well, and was therefore liked by a 
revolutionary dog without prejudices. From these QUATRE PATTES. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
197 
night prowls Francois returned with sad complaints 
of the way the republicans guarded their slim purses; 
in fact, at this time he avoided adventures, stole from 
no one, and gave of his lessening store what barely 
contented Mme. Quatre Pattes. Were I to say that his 
goodness came from newly acquired views of life, I 
should mislead. He wTas as honest as ever, which is 
to say he took no thought at all as to ethical questions. 
We are said to be children of circumstance, which 
may be described as the environment of the hour. 
This is true of the feeble; but character was the more 
despotic parent in this resolute man, who could wrestle 
strenuously with circumstance. He was a Royalist 
because he liked show and color and the fine manners 
of the great; in the past he stole because he knew no 
other way to live. His admirable health was a con- 
tribution to his natural cheerfulness. He still had 
simple likings—for the country, for animals, and 
would have had for books had they been easy to 
get, or had he known how to get those which would 
have fed his mind and had sauce of interest. 
His surroundings would have surely and hopelessly 
degraded a less permanent character, and a nature 
without his ingrained gaiety would have taken more 
steadily some thought of the far future. He knew 
too well how the thief’s life ended: the galleys, the 
wheel, the lonely death-bed in the hospital. If he 
reflected on it at all, as he seems to have done at this 
time, it was because of his long, weary days in the 
attic. The immediate future at this period did dis- 
turb him, but never long. He liked to talk, and, 
lacking society, talked more and more to himself 198 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
aloud, with Toto for an audience which never ceased 
to attend. He who is pleased with his own talk can- 
not easily be bored; and so he talked, until Quatre 
Pattes, who loved keyholes and to listen, thought he 
must be out of his head. She herself was always 
either silent or boisterous, and was as to this like 
other beasts of prey. When in calamity Francois 
was too busy to be serious. When at ease the mirth- 
fulness of his natural man forbade argument as to 
what the dice-box of to-morrow would offer; for to 
laugh is to hope, and Francois, as we know, laughed 
much, well, and often. 
There were many times in his life when to have been 
honestly loved by a woman capable of comprehending 
both his strength and his weakness would, I think, 
have given him the chance to live a better life. But 
how was this possible to one who lived as he lived— 
who was what he was ? 
To be merely liked was pleasant to Francois, and 
appealed with the most subtle form of flattery to his 
immense self-esteem. The man was sensitive, and in 
after days, when in an atmosphere of refinement, 
would never speak of the terrible women he had 
known too well in the Cite. Having no longer the 
distraction of the streets, he was at present condemned 
to live long hours with no society but that of Toto 
and the animal Quatre Pattes. He bought a small 
field-glass, and studied the habits of his neighbors far 
and near, and once more took interest in the feline 
owners of the roof-tops. Quatre Pattes fed him well, 
and brought him some of the old gazettes. 
He read how, on that frightful 5th of September, THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
199 
now past, one of the five complementary days of the 
republican calendar, on motion of Barrere, “ Terror ” 
was decreed by the Convention to be the order of the 
day. It was indeed the birth-hour of the Terror. The 
Great Committee was in power. The revolutionary 
tribunals were multiplied. The law of suspected per- 
sons was drawn with care by the great jurist Merlin 
of Douai. Behind these many man-traps was the 
Committee of Public Safety, with despotic power 
over the persons of all men, and in full control of the 
prisons. To it the subcommittees reported arrests; 
it secured the prisoners who were to be tried; it saw 
to the carrying out of all sentences; it kept the peace 
in Paris with an array of sansculottes, and fed the 
guillotine daily. Of this stern mechanism, strong of 
head and incapable of pity, was Pierre Andre Amar; 
as, one day, Francois read with his full share of the 
Terror. There was soon enough of it to supply all 
France. 
Before November came, Francois, pretending to 
have been in luck, supplied the Crab with six louis. 
She exacted two more, and how much she kept none 
may know. He had very few left. 
She was as good as her word. “Here, my little 
one, is the carte de siirete from the committee of this 
section.” The description was taken from his pass- 
port. He was no more to be Francois, but Francois 
Beau. If he would denounce one or two people, the 
committee would indorse his card as that of “ a good 
patriot who deserved well of the country.” There 
was the lame cobbler over the way, who talked 
loosely, and to whom the Crab owed money; that 200 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
would be useful and convenient. Francois shivered 
all down his long back ; he would see. Meanwhile, as 
he considered, Quatre Pattes twisted her bent spine, 
rattled her two sticks, and looked up at him sidewise 
with evil eyes, bidding him have a care, and not get 
his good mama into trouble, or else, or else—Francois 
felt that some night he might have to wring that 
wrinkled neck. He was uneasy, and with good 
reason. 
He could bear the confinement no longer, and in 
December began to find his cash getting low. He had 
let his beard grow, and taken to long, tight pantaloons 
and a red cap. He felt that, come what might, he 
must take the risks of daylight. 
The chances against him were small. The number- 
less denunciations of the winter fell chiefly on the rich, 
the rash in talk, the foes of the strong heads who were 
ably and mercilessly ruling France. The poor, the ob- 
scure, and the cautious bourgeoisie were as a rule safe 
until, in the spring, something like a homicidal mania 
took possession of Robespierre and others, who, al- 
though they were the most intelligent of the Great 
Committee, were never in control of a steady majority, 
and began to fear for their own heads. 
Outwardly Paris was gay. The restaurateurs made 
money; the people were fed by levies of grain on the 
farmers; and the tumbrel, on its hideous way, rarely 
excited much attention. The autumn and winter of 
’93 were not without peril or adventure for the thief. 
The Palais d’Egalite, once royal, was his favored re- 
sort, and with his well-trained sleight of hand he 
managed to justify the name of the place by efforts THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
201 
to equalize the distribution of what money was left to 
his own advantage and to the satisfaction of the Crab. 
The dark drama went on; but, except the tricoteiises 
who, like Quatre Pattes, went daily to see the guillo- 
tine at work, comparatively few attended this daily 
spectacle. Paris, wearied of crime and too much 
politics, was tired of the monotony of slaughter, which 
had now no shadow of excuse. 
“ Would the citizen miss the death of the Austrian, 
the ex-queen ? ” He would not; he knew better than 
to say no to Quatre Pattes. Would he go with her? 
She could get him a good place, and all Paris would 
be there. All Paris was not to his desire. He said 
he would go alone. A walk with this four-footed 
creature and the rattle of her becketing sticks he liked 
not. He called his dog, and, avoiding the vast assem- 
blage on the Place of the Revolution, found his way 
to the Rue St. Honore. 
He stood in a crowd against a house. The tumbrel 
came slowly, and, because of the surging mass of 
people, paused opposite to him. He looked about 
him. In a group at a window on the far side of 
the street he saw a man apparently sketching the sad 
figure in the cart. It seemed devilish to this poor 
outcast of the Cite. His face flushed; he asked who 
that was in the window, at which many were staring. 
The man he addressed was in black, and looked to be 
an ex-abbe. 
“ My son,” he said quietly, and with no evidence of 
caution— “ my son, ’t is David the painter, he of the 
Great Committee. He hath no heart; but in another 
world he will get it again, and then—” 202 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
“ Take care! ” said Francois. The shouting crowd 
cried: “ Messalina! Down with the Austrian! ” 
Francois looked, and saw the bent figure seated in 
the cart. Pale it was, with a red spot on each cheek, 
haggard; her gray hair cut close, pitiful; with pen- 
dent breasts uncorseted, lost to the horrors of the in- 
sults hurled at her abject state. Francois moved 
away, and the tumbrel went rumbling on. An hour 
later he was crossing the broad Elysian Fields amid 
the scattered crowd. It was over, and few cared. 
The booths were selling toy guillotines. Of a sudden 
he missed Toto. He called him, and, hearing him 
bark, pushed in haste into a large tent filled with 
Women and children and with men in blouses. 
“ The citizen has not paid,” cried tire doorkeeper. 
Francois saw Toto struggling in the hands of a red- 
bearded man who was crying out: “ Enter! enter! 
Trial and execution of an emigre dog. Voila, citizens ! 
Range yourselves.” There was the red guillotine, 
the basket, the sawdust, and poor Toto howling. It 
was a spectacle which much amused the lower class 
of Jacobins. “ A las le cliien aristocrats! ” 
Francois advanced with his cheerful smile. “ The 
citizen is mistaken; it is my dog.” 
“Where is his carte de surete f ” laughed the man. 
“Up with him for trial! ” 
Four monkeys were the judges. Jeers and laughter 
greeted Francois: “ No, no; go on ! ” 
He caught the man by the arm. The fellow let fall 
Toto, who made a hasty exit. 
“ I denounce thee for an enemy of the republic! ’> 
cried the showman. “ Seize him! seize him! ” Fran- THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
203 
gois broke away, and, using liis long arms, readied 
the entrance. There was no earnest desire to stop 
him. The doorkeeper caught him by the collar. He 
kicked as only a master of the savate knows how to 
kick, and, free of the grip, called to Toto, and plunged 
into a crowd which made no effort to recapture him. 
He moved with them, and soon turned to cross the river. 
Midway on the bridge he came face to face with 
Despard. He was ragged and fleshless, the shadow 
of the well-fed Jacobin he had last seen in the chateau 
of Ste. Luce. 
11 Ciel! ” exclaimed Francois, “ thou art starved.” 
He had no grudge against his old partner, but he 
fully appreciated the danger of this encounter. 
He was comforted by the man’s alarm. “Come,” 
said Francois, and took him into a little drinking-shop. 
It was deserted at this time of day. He easily drew 
out all he desired to know. Mme. Renee was assuredly 
dead; and he who threw the gauntlet, the butcher, 
dead also; and three or more on the fatal stairway. 
Gregoire had punished the village severely; heads 
had fallen. Pierre’s friend Robespierre had aban- 
doned him, had even threatened him—Pierre ! but he 
had escaped any worse fate. He was half famished; 
and would Francois help him? Francois ordered 
bread and cheese and wine. He would see what next 
to do. And what of the marquis? He had not ap- 
peared in the lists of the guillotined; but he might 
readily have died unnamed, and escaped Francois’s 
notice. 
“ No,” said Pierre, sadly; “ he lives. Of course he 
lives. The devil cannot die. He got away from 204 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Gregoire. Who could keep that man ? But for thee 
and the accursed commissioner, I should have had 
my revenge. We shall meet some day.” 
“ Shall I find him for thee ? ” 
“Dame! no. Let us go out. I am uneasy; I am 
afraid.” 
“ But of what ? ” 
“ I do not know. I am afraid. I am accursed with 
fear. I am afraid as a man is in a dream. Some- 
where else I shall cease to fear. Let us go.” He 
was in a sweat of pure causeless terror, the anguish 
of an emotion the more terrible for its lack of reason. 
It was the inexplicable torment of one of the forms 
of growing insanity. Francois looked on, amazed and 
pitiful. The man’s eyes wandered here and there; 
he got up, and sat down again, went to the door, 
looked about him, and came back. At last, as Fran- 
cois began to consider how to be free of a dubious 
acquaintance, Pierre said drearily: 
“ Is it easy to die ? I should like to die. If I were 
brave like thee, I should drown myself.” 
“Ah, well,” laughed Francois, “there is the guillo- 
tine-short and comfortable.” 
“Tliou wilt not denounce me?” he cried, leaping 
to his feet. “I have my carte; I will let thee see it.” 
He was like a scared child. 
“Nonsense!” cried Francois, with good-humored 
amusement. “I must go. Here is a gold louis. 
Why dost thou not rob a few Jacobins?” 
“ Hush! I dare not; I was brave once. Thou didst 
save me once; help me now. Thou wilt not let me 
starve ? ” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
205 
“No, indeed. I? Not I. Take care of thy louis; 
they are scarce,. Meet me here at this hour in a week- 
Adieu. At this hour, mind.” 
“ Art thou going to leave me alone ? ” 
Francois was grieved, hut could not remain, and 
hastened away, while Pierre looked after him with 
melancholy eyes. 
“ Come, Toto,” he said, as he turned a corner. “ The 
man is mad. Let us thank the bon Dieu we never have 
had a wife; and the rest of our relatives we have buried 
—papa and mama, and all the family.” 
It was not in the man to forget, and a week later 
he cautiously entered the little cafe to keep his engage- 
ment. It was noisy. To his surprise, he saw Pierre 
declaiming lustily to half a dozen blouses. 
“ Ah! ” he cried, seeing Francois, “ mon ami, here is 
a seat. There is good news from the frontier. A 
glass for the citizen.” Clink, clink. “ A vous. Death 
to royal rats! ” He went on in a wild way until the 
workmen had gone, and Francois stopped him with: 
“ What the deuce has come to thee ? ” 
“ Oh, nothing. I have had one of the fits you know 
of; I am always better after them. Diable! no mar- 
quis could scare me to-day. I saw him last week, I 
did. I followed him. It is he who would have been 
scared. I—I missed him in a crowd. In a minute I 
should have had him, like that,” and he turned a 
glass upside down so as to capture a fly which was 
foraging on the table—“like that,” he repeated 
triumphantly. 
Francois watched him, and saw a flushed face, trem- 
ulous hands, staring eyes. 206 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“He is afraid; he can’t get out”; and the man 
laughed low, pointing to his prisoner. 
“And thou wouldst have denounced him?” said 
Francois. 
“ Why not ? He is one of them. He is hell; he is 
the devil! I saw no officers to help me.” 
“ Thou art cracked; thou wilt denounce me next.” 
Pierre looked at Francois with unusual steadiness 
of gaze, hesitated, and replied: 
“ I thought of it; you are all for these people.” 
Francois, in turn, looked his man over curiously. 
He had now a queer expression of self-satisfied ela- 
tion. “A good joke, that,” said Francois. “Wait a 
moment; I left Toto outside.” He went to the door, 
and looked up and down the street. “ Wait,” he cried 
to Pierre. “ Hang the dog ! ” And in an instant he 
had left the citizen to abide his return. Once in his 
garret, he cried: “ Toto, thou hast no sense. The 
sane scoundrels are bad enough, but why didst thou 
fetch on me this crazy rascal? And so the marquis 
got away, Toto. The man with the wart is not as 
clever as I thought him. But some folks have luck.” 
The sad winter of the Terror wore on, while Fran- 
cois continued to live unmolested, and pursued his 
estimable occupation always with an easy conscience, 
but often with an uneasy mind. 
It was near the end of the pleasant month of May, 
1794—the month Prairial of the new calendar. The 
roses were in bloom. The violets were seeking sun- 
shine here and there, half hidden in the rare grasses 
of the trampled space of the Place of the Revolution. 
On the six bridges which spanned the canals, its “‘DEATH TO ROYAL RATS ! ’ ” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
209 
boundaries, children were looking at the swans. In 
the middle space, the scaffold and cross-beams of the 
guillotine rose dark red against the blue sky of this 
afternoon of spring. Two untidy soldiers marched 
back and forth beside it. The every-day tragedy of 
the morning was over; why should the afternoon 
remember? The great city seemed to have neither 
heart nor memory. The drum-beat of a regiment 
going to the front rang clear down the Quai des 
Tuileries. People ran to see; children and then- 
nurses left the swans. The birds in the trees listened, 
and, liking not this crude music, took wing, and 
perched on the beams of the monstrous thing in the 
center of the Place. 
Francois crossed the open ground, with Toto close 
to heel. The keeper of the little cafe where he liked 
to sit had just told him that the citizen with whom 
he had twice come thither had been asking for him, 
and that with this citizen had also come once a stout 
man, who would know where Citizen Francois lived. 
This last was of the fourth section, one Gregoire, a 
man with a wart. 
“ Thou didst notice the man ? ” said Francois, much 
troubled. 
“Notice him? I should think so. Dame! I am 
of the Midi. A wart on a man’s nose is bad luck; 
the mother of that man saw a cocatrice egg in the 
barn-yard.” 
“ A cocatrice egg! What the mischief is that ? ” 
“ Tiens! if you were of the Midi, you would know. 
When a hen cackles loud, ’t is that she hath laid a 
great egg; the father is a basilisk.” 210 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“ Tonnerre! a basilisk ? ” 
“ Thou must crush the egg, and not look, else there 
is trouble; thy next child will have warts, or his 
eyebrows will meet, and then look out! ” Francois’s 
superstition was vastly reinforced by this legend. 
“Mon Dim!” he cried; “he hath both.” This 
Francois was a bold man when he had to meet danger 
face to face, but, like a child as to many things, afraid 
where a less imaginative man would have been de- 
void of fear. 
Just now he had been turning over in his mind the 
chance of the Crab’s betraying him. She had been 
prowling about his garret, and had stolen a well-hidden 
score of francs. He dared not complain. What scant 
possessions he had would fall into her claws if at any 
minute she might choose to denounce him. Of late, 
purses were too well guarded. The display of luxury 
in lace handkerchiefs and gold seals no longer afforded 
an available resource. Except Robespierre, who de- 
fied popular sentiment, few men carried two watches. 
Quatre Pattes had the appetite of a winter wolf, and 
was becoming more and more exacting. She asked 
why he did not sell his rapier. If it were known that 
he withheld weapons such as the republic claimed, 
there might be trouble. Why had he not given up 
his pistols? They were gold-mounted, and had be- 
longed to a grandee of Spain. Why not sell them? 
They would fetch a deal of money. 
He was not inclined to part with his arms, and 
least of all with his rapier. At last he gave her one 
pistol, which she sold; the other he hung high up on 
a peg set within the chimney, having hidden in its THE ADVENTURES OP FRANCOIS 
211 
barrel the precious little document he had captured 
from Citizen Gregoire in that pleasant inn on the 
Seine, where an agreeable evening had ended with 
such unaccountable abruptness. 
Next to the Crab’s treachery, he feared most to 
meet Despard when the Jacobin should chance to be 
in one of those aggressive moods which were so 
puzzling to Francois. But above all did he dread 
Gregoire, and grew terrified as he reflected on that 
business of the cocatrice egg and the basilisk. 
It seemed as though he were doomed, and this most 
cheery of men became distinctly unhappy. “That 
sacre basilisk! ” he muttered, and, less on guard 
than usual, wandered on, taking stock of his per- 
plexities. 
Near to the foundations of the Madeleine, where 
work had long since ceased, he paused to recreate 
himself with a puppet-show. The vanquished fiend 
was Citizen Jean Boule. He was soon guillotined. 
The crowd was merry, and Francois, refreshed, con- 
tributed his own share of appreciative mirth. In the 
throng he unluckily set his big foot on the toes of a 
little Jacobin dressed in the extreme of the fashions 
these gentry affected. The small man was not to be 
placated by Francois’s abundant excuses, and de- 
manded the citizen’s card of safety. It was an every- 
day matter. No one dared to refuse. There were 
half-insane men, in those times, who satisfied their 
patriotism by continually exacting cards from timid 
women or from any well-dressed man. To decline 
was to break the law. Francois obeyed with the 
utmost civility. The little man returned the card. 212 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“ The citizen is of the best of the sections, but, sacre! 
he is heavy.” 
Much relieved, Francois went on. In the Eue St. 
Honore the corner of a lace handkerchief invited a 
transfer, and lace handkerchiefs were rare. As there 
was a small, well-occupied group looking through a 
shop-window at a caricature of Mr. Pitt, the occasion 
appeared propitious, and the handkerchief changed 
owners. 
A minute later a man touched Francois’s shoulder. 
“ Thy card, citizen! ” 
“ The deuce! ” said the thief, as he turned. “ This 
gets monotonous. Mon Dieu, the marquis! ” he ex- 
claimed. 
“ Hush! Your card. You are followed—watched. 
There is this one chance.” Francois produced his 
card. The marquis murmured, “Take care; obey 
me.” Holding the card in his hand, he called authori- 
tatively to a municipal guard who was passing. The 
man stopped, but no one else paused. Curiosity was 
perilous. 
“ This good citizen is followed by that man yonder 
—the one with the torn bonnet. I know the citizen. 
Here is his card and mine. Just tell that fellow to 
be careful”; and he slipped his own card of safety 
into the guard’s hand, and under it three louis. The 
guard hesitated; then he glanced at the card. 
“’T is in order, and countersigned by Vadier of the 
Great Committee. These spies are too busy; I will 
settle the fellow. Good morning, citizens.” 
They moved away quietly, in no apparent haste. 
As they were turning a corner, the thief looked back. 
“ I am a lost man, monsieur! ” He saw, far away, THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
213 
the man of the torn red bonnet, and with him Quatre 
Pattes. She was evidently in a rage. He understood 
at once. In the thieves’ quarter denunciations were 
not in favor. She knew too well the swift justice of 
this bivouac of outcasts to risk being suspected as a 
traitor to its code. The night before, he had been 
unable to give her money, and had again refused to 
sell his weapons. She had angrily reminded him that 
he was in her power, and he had for the first time 
declared that he would let the Cite settle with her. He 
had been rash, and now, too late, he knew it. 
He hastily explained his sad case to the disguised 
gentleman, and was on the point of telling him that 
this Quatre Pattes was that Mme. Quintette who had 
once been his agent, and would probably be an enemy 
not to be despised. He glanced at the marquis, and, 
wisely or not, held his tongue. 
“We must part here,” said the gentleman. He had 
hesitated when chance led him to the neighborhood of 
the thief in trouble; but he was a courageous man, 
and disliked to owe to an inferior any such service as 
Francois had more than once rendered him. Vadier’s 
sign manual on his own card of safety was an unques- 
tioned assurance of patriotism; it had cost him a 
round sum, but it had its value. 
When he said, “I must leave you,” the thief returned: 
“ I am sorry, monsieur; I know not what to do or 
where to go.” 
“Nor I,” replied Ste. Luce, coldly. “Nor, for that 
matter, a thousand men in Paris to-day.” He had 
paid a debt, and meant to be rid of a disreputable 
and dangerous acquaintance. “ Better luck to you! ” 
he added. 214 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
“May I say to monsieur, who has helped me, that 
Despard is in Paris, and has seen him ? ” 
The marquis turned. “Why did not you kill him 
when you had the chance ?” 
“You forbade me." 
“That is true—quite true. Had you done it with- 
out asking me, I had been better pleased.” 
“ I had no grudge against him.” 
“Well, well, thank you, my man; I can look out 
for myself.” 
“ Will monsieur accept the gratitude of a poor devil 
of a thief ? ” 
“ Oh, that is all right. One word more. It is as 
well to tell you, my man, how I came to speak to 
you. When first I observed you, as I fell behind, I 
saw that terrible old witch with two sticks pointing 
you out to the fellow with the torn cap; then he fol- 
lowed you.” 
“ It was Quatre Pattes, monsieur. I lodge in her 
house.” 
“A good name, I should say. I wish you better 
luck and safer lodgings. Adieu ”; and he went quietly 
on his way. XIX 
Of the sorrowful life of loneliness, of Frangois1 s arrest, 
and of those he met in prison. 
iRANQOIS stood still. He was alone, 
anq felt of a sudden, as never before, 
mr Bj the solitude of an uncompanioned life. 
The subtle influence of the Terror had 
begun to sap the foundations of even 
his resolute cheerfulness. It was this constancy of 
dread which to some natures made the terrible cer- 
tainties of the prisons a kind of relief. He looked 
after the retreating figure as it moved along the quai 
and was lost to view in the Rue des Petits-Augustines. 
“ Toto,” he said, u I would I had his clever head. 
When 7t is a question of hearts, mon ami, I would 
rather have thine. And now, what to do ? ” At last 
he moved swiftly along the borders of the Seine, and 
soon regained his own room. The Crab would go to 
the afternoon market; her net swung over her arm at 
the time he had seen her; and, as she always moved 
slowly, he had ample leisure. 
He packed his bag, and taking from his pistol the 
paper he had secured when in company with Gregoire, 
replaced it under the lining of his shoe. Its value he 216 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
very well knew. After a moment’s reflection, lie put 
his pistol back on the peg high up in the chimney. 
He had been in the house nearly an hour, and was 
ready to leave, when he heard feet, and a knock at 
the locked door. A voice cried: 
“ In the name of the republic, open! ” He knew 
that he was lost. 
“Dame! Toto. We are done for, my little one”; 
and then, without hesitation, he opened the door. 
Three municipals entered. One of them said: 
“We arrest thee, citizen, as an emigre returned.” 
“ Emigre! ” and he laughed in his usual hearty way. 
“If I had been that, no one would have caught me 
back in France. Ah, well, I am ready, citizen. Here 
is an old rapier. The woman will sell it; better to 
give it to thee or to the republic.” He took up his 
slender baggage, and followed them. When they 
were down-stairs, he asked leave to see the Crab. 
The guard called her out of her den. 
“ CJilre maman,” said Francois, “this is thy doing. 
These good citizens have my rapier, and the pistol is 
gone. Not a sou is left thee. Thou hast killed the 
goose that laid the golden eggs. Alas! ” 
The Crab rattled her claws on the sticks, and these 
on the floor, and spat vileness of thieves’ slang, de- 
claring it a wicked lie. Would they take the silver- 
hilted sword? It was hers, and he owed her rent. 
At last, laughing, the guards secured the thief’s 
hands behind his back, and marched him away to 
the revolutionary committee of the section Franklin. 
Here no time was lost with the Emigre, who was sent THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
217 
off in a hurry to the prison of the Madelonnettes, with 
poor Toto trotting after him7 much perplexed by the 
performance. 
Francois was astounded at the celerity and certainty 
of the methods by which he, a free Arab of the streets, 
was thus caged. As usual, it acted on his sense of 
humor, and before the dreaded sectional tribunal and 
with the municipals he was courageously merry. 
"When he heard that he was to be sent to the Made- 
lonnettes, he said: 
“But, citizens, I am not of the sex. Mon Dim! 
the Madelonnettes! ’T is not respectable—’t is not 
decent”; and he laughed outright. As no man was 
ever so made as to be protected from the infection 
of such mirth as the thief’s, the judges laughed in 
chorus. One of them, disturbed in his slumber, 
awoke, and seeing no cause for this long-visaged flap- 
ear so to mock the justice of the republic, he said: 
“ Thou wilt not laugh long, miserable aristocrat! ” 
This much delighted Francois. “By St. Jacobus, 
citizen, I swear to thee I am only an honest thief. I 
did not expect to be made of the fine nobility by a 
good democrat like thee.” 
“ Off with him ! ” said the judge. “ They laugh best 
who laugh last.” 
“No, no,” cried the incorrigible; “they laugh best 
who laugh most. Au revoir” 
“ Take him away! The next case.” 
The thief was gay, and amused the officers; but 
his keen senses were now all on guard, and, too, like 
others, he felt relieved at the ending of his life of 218 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
suspense and watchful anxiety. His misfortune was 
plainly due to the avarice and needs of the Crab, and 
to her belief that he had ceased to be available as a 
means of support. 
There was a little delay at the front of the old 
house of detention; some formalities were to be gone 
through with. Francois took careful note of it all. 
The prison stood in the Rue des Fontaines: a gray 
stone building, with a lofty story on the first floor, 
and, above, three stories and an attic ; a high wall to 
left shut in the garden. 
On entering a long, dark corridor, bis bonds were 
removed, his bundle was searched, and what little 
money he had was scrupulously restored to him. He 
was stripped and examined, even to his shoes; but as 
the tongue of leather was loose only at the toes, the 
precious document escaped a very rigorous search. 
Poor Toto had been left outside, despite Francois’s 
entreaties. In the cell to which he was consigned 
were eight straw mattresses. He arranged his small 
baggage, and was told he was free to go whither he 
would above the rez-de-chaussSe, which was kept for 
forgers of assignats and thieves. The corridor was 
some fifty feet long, and smelt horribly. On the main 
floor was the common dining-room. A separate stair- 
case led to a garden of considerable size, planted with 
box and a few quince- and other fruit-trees. At night 
two municipals guarded this space, while, outside, the 
steps of sentries could be heard when the hours of 
darkness brought their quiet. At 9 P. M. the prisoners, 
who assembled in the large hall, answered to their 
names; a bell rang, and they were locked in their THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
219 
cells, or slept as they could in the corridors. The 
richer captives were taxed to support their poor 
companions, and even to buy and feed the mastiffs 
which roamed at night in the garden. 
Much of all this Francois learned as he arranged 
his effects and talked gaily with the turnkey, one 
Yaubertrand, a watchful but not unkindly little man. 
Thus informed, Francois, curious as usual, went down 
the corridor, and out into the garden. Here were 
quite two hundred men and women, some in careful, 
neat dress, many in rags. He saw, as he looked, 
cures, ladies, seamstresses, great nobles, unlucky 
colonels, and, as he learned later, musicians, poets; 
and, to his surprise, for he knew the theaters, 
actors such as Fleury, Saint-Prix, and Champville, 
whose delicious laughter the Comedie Frangaise knew 
so well. Here, too, were Boulainvilliers, De Crosne, 
and Dozincourt, the ex-kings and heroes of the comic 
stage; and there, in a group apart, the fine gentles 
and dames who had exchanged Versailles and the 
Trianon for this home of disastrous fortunes. 
“ Yes,” said the turnkey; “ the citizen is right;’t is 
a droll menagerie,” and so left him. 
Francois looked at the walls and chained dogs, and 
knew at once that the large numbers in the prison 
made impossible that solitude in which plans of 
escape prosper. For a while no one noticed him so 
far as to speak to him. The ill-clad and poor kept to 
one side of the garden; on the other, well-dressed 
people were chatting in the sun. Women were sew- 
ing ; a young man was reciting verses; and De Crosne, 
with the child of the concierge on his lap, was telling 220 
THE ADVENTUEES OF FEAN£OIS 
fairy-tales. Ignorant of the etiquette of the prison, 
Francois wandered here and there, not observing that 
he was stared at with surprise as he moved among 
the better clad on the sunny side of the yard. He 
was interested by what he saw. How quiet they all 
were! what fine garments! what bowing and cour- 
tesying! He liked it, as he always liked dress and 
color, and the ways of these imperturbable great folks. 
Beyond this his reflections did not go; nor as yet had 
he been here long enough to note how, day by day, 
some gentleman disappeared, or some kindly face of 
woman was seen no more. What he did observe was 
that here and there a woman or a man sat apart in 
self-contained grief, remembering those they had lost. 
The thief moved on, thoughtful. 
At this moment he heard “Diable /” and saw the 
Marquis de Ste. Luce. “ Wliat! and have they trapped 
you, my inevitable thief? I myself was bagged and 
caged just after I left you. We are both new arrivals. 
Come aside with me.” 
Francois followed him, saying he was sorry to find 
the marquis here. 
“It was to be, sooner or later; and I presume it 
will not last long. I was careless; and, after all, 
Francois, it was my fate—my shadow. A man does 
many things to amuse himself, and some one of them 
casts a lengthening shadow as time goes on. The 
shadow—my shadow—well, no matter. We all have 
our shadows, and at sunset they lengthen.” 
“ ’T is like enough, monsieur. JT is like me. There 
is a man with a wart I am afraid of, and it is because 
of that wart. The man is a drunken fool.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
221 
“Despard is my wart/7 said the marquis, dryly. 
“As to being afraid, my good Francois, I never had 
the malady, not even as a boy.” 
uDame! I have it now; and to get out of this is 
impossible.” 
“ I think so. Did you mention Despard ? ” 
“No; it was monsieur spoke of him.” 
“Quite true—quite true. He found me at last. 
Confound the fellow! I did not credit him with 
being clever.” 
“ So this is his man with a wart ? ” thought Francois, 
but made no comment. He had not fully compre- 
hended the simile with which this impassive seigneur 
illustrated the fact that but one of his many misdeeds 
had cast on his future a lengthening shadow of what 
he would have hesitated to call remorse. 
“Francois,” he said, “you and I are new additions 
to this queer collection. I may as well warn you 
that even here spies abound. Why? The deuce 
knows. Barn-yard fowls are not less considered 
than are we. It is the tribunal one day; then the 
Conciergerie; and next day, affaire finie, the business 
is over. Meanwhile, you are in the best society in 
France. There are M. de la Ferte, the Comte de 
Mirepoix, the Due de Levis, the Marquis de Fleury. 
I used to think them dull; calamity has not sharp- 
ened their wits. Diable! but you are welcome.” The 
marquis had all his life amused himself with small 
regard to what was thought of him or his ways of 
recreation. “ ’T is a bit of luck to find you here in 
this hole.” Francois could hardly agree with the 
opinion, but he laughed as he said so. 222 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“Here comes my old comrade, De Laval Mont- 
morency. He is still a gay jester. He says we are 
like Saul and that other fellow, Jonathan, except that 
in death we shall both of us to a certainty be divided.” 
“ del! ’t is a ghastly joke, monsieur.” 
“ It has decidedly a flavor of the locality. I must 
not play telltale about you, or they will put you in 
the rez-de-chaussee, and, by St. Denis! I should miss 
you. I shall have a little amusement in perplexing 
these gentlemen. Your face will betray you; it used 
to be pretty well known. However, we shall see.” 
The nobleman last named threaded his way through 
the crowd, excusing himself and bowing as he came. 
“Ah,” he said, “Ste. Luce, another new arrival. 
The hotel is filling up. Good morning, monsieur. 
Grand merci! ’t is our old acquaintance who used to 
tell fortunes on the Champs Elysees; told mine once, 
but, alas! did not warn me of this. Well, well, we 
have here some queer society. Take care, Ste. Luce; 
this citizen may be a spy, for all thou knowest. I 
assure thee we have to be careful.” 
“I—I a mouchard— a spy?” 
“ M. de Montmorency has no such idea,” said Ste. 
Luce. “ I shall ask him to respect your desire to be 
known by a name not your own. Permit me to add 
that I have less reason to thank some of my friends 
than I have to thank this gentleman. He is pleased 
to have mystified Paris for a wager, or no matter 
what. Just now he is—what the deuce is it you call 
yourself at present ? ” 
Francois was delighted with the jest. “Allow me, 
monsieur, to pass as Citizen Francois. My real THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
223 
name— But you will pardon me; real names are 
dangerous.” 
“And what are names to-day,” said the marquis, 
“thine or mine? My friend here—well, between us, 
Montmorency, this is he who held the stair with me 
in my ci-devant chateau. Thou wilt remember I told 
thee of it. A good twenty minutes we kept it against 
a hundred or so of my grateful people. He is the 
best blade in Paris, and, foi d ’honneur, that business 
was no trifle.” 
“ Who you are, or choose to be, I know not,” said 
the older noble, “ but I thank you; and, pardieu! Ste. 
Luce is free with your biography.” 
This was Francois’s opinion. 
No one knew distinctly who was this newcomer, 
concerning whom, for pure cynical amusement, Ste. 
Luce said so much that was gracious. Any freshly 
gay companion was welcomed, if his manners were at 
all endurable. The actors and actresses were pleas- 
antly received. The few who remembered the long 
face, and ears like sails, and the captivating laugh of 
the former reader of palms, were so bewildered by 
Ste. Luce’s varied statements that the poor thief 
found himself at least tolerated. He liked it. Never- 
theless, as the days went by, and while seemingly 
the gayest of the gay, Francois gave serious thought 
to the business of keeping his head on his shoulders. 
He told fortunes,—always happy ones,—played tricks, 
and cut out of paper all manner of animals for the 
little girl, the child of the turnkey. Toto he gave up 
for lost; but on the fourth day the dog, half starved, 
got a chance when a prisoner entered. He dashed 224 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
through the guards, and fled up stairs and down, 
until, seeing his master in the big hall, he ran to him, 
panting. The head jailer would have removed him, 
but there was a great outcry; and at last, when little 
Annette, Francois’s small friend, cried, the dog was 
allowed to remain. 
He was, as the marquis declared, much more inter- 
esting than most of the prisoners, and possessed, as 
he added, the advantage over other prisoners of being 
permanent. In fact, they were not. Every day or 
two came long folded papers. The ci-devant Baron 
Bellefontaine would to-morrow have the cause of 
his detention considered by Tribunal No. 3. Wit- 
nesses and official defenders had been allowed; but 
of late, and to emigres, these were often denied. Also, 
witnesses were scarce and easily terrified, so that 
batches of merely suspected persons were condemned 
almost unheard. To be tried meant nearly always 
the Conciergerie and death. All cases were supposed 
to be tried in the order of their arrests; but great sums 
were spent in paying clerks to keep names at the foot 
of the fatal dockets of the committee. The members 
of this terrible government survived or died with 
much judicial murder on their souls; but countless 
millions passed through their hands without one man 
of them becoming rich. Elsewhere, with the lower 
officers, gold was an effective ally when it was desired 
to postpone the time of trial. XX 
Of how Frangois gave Amar advice, and of how the 
marquis bought his own head. 
Mwas now about May 26, when, at 
evening, a commissioner in a cocked 
hat, much plumed and scarfed, came 
into the dining-hall. Toto was between 
his master’s knees, and was being fed. 
Francois heard a gray-haired old lady exclaim to a 
neighbor: “ Mon Dieu! cherie, look! ’T is the Terror 
in person.” 
The actor Champville cried out gaily: “I must 
practise that face. ’T is a fortune for the villain of a 
play. If ever I get out, it will be inestimable.” Alas! 
he was in the next day’s list,—the corvee, they called 
it,—and came no more to table. Francois looked up, 
caught a glimpse of that relentless visage, and dropped 
his head again over the slender relics of a not bounti- 
ful meal. It was Jean Pierre Amar! 
The marquis looked up from his plate, but made 
no effort to conceal himself. Amar walked around 
the table. Now and then his mouth wandered to 
left. It was comical, and yet horribly grotesque. He 
seemed to notice no one, and went out to make his 
225 226 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
inspection. Presently a turnkey came and touched 
Francois’s shoulder. 
“ The citizen commissioner would see thee.” 
“I am ruined—done for!” murmured the thief; 
and, followed by Toto, he went after the turnkey. 
In the room used as a registering-office, Amar, le 
farouche, sat handling a paper. 
u Ah! ” he said. u Citizen turnkey, leave the sus- 
pect with me, and close the door.” The commissioner 
laid a pair of pistols on the table, and looked up at 
Francois. 
“ Well, citizen, we are met again. I am free to say 
that I had careful search made for thee, and now 
good fortune has brought hither not thee alone, but 
that infernal ci-devant who pinned me like a butterfly.” 
As he spoke there was something fascinating in the 
concentration of emotion on the active side of this 
unnatural face. Francois felt the need to be careful. 
11 Why the devil don’t you speak ? ” 
“ Will the citizen kindly advise me what answer it 
will be most prudent to make ? ” And for comment 
on his own words, which altogether pleased him, a 
pleasant smile drifted downward over his large fea- 
tures. 
“ Sacre! but thou art a queer one, and no fool,” said 
the Jacobin. “ Thou wilt be dead before long; a mon- 
strous pity! I would give my place for thy laugh.” 
u ’T is a bargain to my mind. Let us change. I 
shall set thee free at once— at once, citizen commis- 
sioner ; I bear no malice.” 
Amar, silent for a moment, stroked his nose with 
thumb and finger. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
227 
“Thou dost not remind me thou didst save my 
life.” 
“ No; what is the use ? ” 
“Use? Why not?” 
“ Because men like the citizen commissioner do not 
lightly change. I have a too plain recollection of 
what I was promised in return for my benevolence. 
I should regret it except for—” 
“ For what ? ” said Amar. 
Then Francois rose to the height of his greatness. 
“ I am a Frenchman, even if I am not of thy party. 
Had not the country needed thee, that day had been 
thy last. Citizen, as a man thou wouldst set me free; 
as a patriot thou wilt bow to the law of the republic. 
I am willing to die rather than soil the record of one 
to whom France owes so much.” An overwhelming 
solemnity of aspect came upon this comedian’s face 
as it met the gaze of the commissioner. “ Alas! the 
country has few such citizens.” 
“ Tonnerre! True—true; it is sad.” The man’s 
vanity was excelled only by that of the prisoner be- 
fore him. Francois had personal appreciation of the 
influential value of the bait he cast. A great diplo- 
matist of the older type was lost when Francois took 
to the war against society in place of that against 
nations. 
“ If the citizen commissioner has no more need of 
me, I will go. To waste his time is to waste the genius 
of France.” Not for nothing had Francois been of 
late in the society of the Comedie Frangaise. 
“ Tiens! Who told thee to go ? I desire to do my 
own thinking. Why art thou here ? ” 228 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
Francois laughed, but made no other reply. 
“Young man, art thou laughing at the Revolu- 
tionary Tribunal?” 
“ Thou art also laughing, monsieur.” When Fran- 
cois laughed, he who looked at him laughed also. 
“ Diable! yes. What right hast thou to make an 
officer of the Great Committee laugh ? Thou wilt get 
into trouble.” 
“ I am in it now, monsieur—up to the neck.” 
“No ‘monsieur’ to me, aristocrat! What brought 
thee here ? ” 
“A greedy woman denounced me. Could not I 
denounce her in turn ? ” 
“ Mort du diable! that is a fine idea—to let the 
denounced also denounce. It would make things 
move. I will mention that to Couthon.” The half 
of the face that was able to express emotion manu- 
factured a look of ferocious mirth; but it was clear 
that he took the proposition seriously. 
“ It appears that we do not go fast enough, citizen,” 
said Francois. “ In April, 257; in May, so far, only 
308. So say the gazettes. What if we denounce 
Citizens Robespierre and Yadier? We might go 
faster. Let us denounce everybody, and, last, the 
devil.” 
Amar set an elbow on the table, and, with his chin 
in his hand, considered this novel specimen of hu- 
manity. 
Francois had a controlling idea that what chance 
of safety there was lay in complete abandonment to 
the natural recklessness of his ever-dominant mood 
of humor. “ AMAR CONSIDERED THIS NOVEL SPECIMEN OE HUMANITY.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
231 
“Art thou at the end of thy nonsense, idiot?” said 
the Jacobin. 
“Not quite; the citizen might denounce himself.” 
“ By all the saints! Art making a jest of me—me, 
Jean Pierre Amar? Thou must value thy head but 
little.” 
“ Dame! it was never worth much ; and as to saints, 
one Citizen Montmorency said yesterday that the 
republic hath abolished the noblesse of heaven and 
earth too. Droll idea, citizen”; and he laughed 
merrily. 
“ Oh, quit that infernal laughing! Thou must be 
of the Comedie Fran^aise.” 
“No; I am of the comedy of France, like the rest 
—like the commissioner; but the citizen has two ears 
for a joke.” 
“I—I think so”; and he made it manifest by a 
twisted, unilateral grin of self-approval. “ That idea 
of the citizen—prisoners denouncing—I shall not 
forget that. Wilt thou serve the republic ? ” 
“ Why not ? ” 
“ These common spies in the prisons are useless. I 
will put an ‘ M ’ to thy name on our list; 1M ’ for mou- 
chard—spy. That will put thee down at the bottom 
whenever the Committee of Safety comes to thy 
case. I am not ungrateful.” 
“Very good,” said Francois, promptly. “I am as 
honest a Jacobin as the best. I will serve the republic, 
citizen, to the best of my ability.” 
“ Then thou wilt report once a week, especially on 
the ci-devants. The head keeper will give thee pen, 
ink, and paper, and a chance to write here alone. I 232 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
will so order it. But beware, citizen! I am not a 
man to trifle with; I do not forget.” 
“ I should think not,” said Francois, humbly. 
“And when Gregoire comes, in June, thou wilt re- 
port to him.” 
“ I—Gregoire—report—” 
“Certainly. What 7s the matter? Off with thee 
now. Ah, that sacre Citizen Ste. Luce! I forgot him. 
Tell him his case will come on shortly.” 
“ I am sorry.” 
“ That is to lack patriotism.” 
“But he and De Crosne are the only people who 
amuse me, and it is dull in this bird-cage. He swears 
thou art clumsy with the small sword.” 
“ I—I clumsy! I should like to catch him some- 
where. I was too fat; but now! ” and he smote his 
chest. “Didst thou think me clumsy—me, Pierre 
Amar ? ” 
“I? No, indeed. These aristocrats think no one 
else can handle a rapier. Ah, if I could fence with 
the citizen commissioner a little, and then—” 
“ Impossible.” 
“He swears thou art coward enough to use the 
guillotine to settle a quarrel, and that thou dost fence 
like a pigsticker.” 
Amar, le farouche, swore an oath too blasphemous 
to repeat. The great thick-lipped mouth moved half 
across so much of his face as could move at all. He 
was speechless with rage, and at last gasped, as he 
struck the table: “Me—Amar? Ah, I should like 
well to let him out and kill him; and I would, too, 
but there are Saint-Just, and Couthon, and the rest. 
Go; and take care how thou dost conduct thyself. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
233 
Go! The sacre marquis must take his chance. Pig- 
sticker indeed! ” 
Thus terminated this formidable interview; but, 
alas! it was now close to the end of May, and in the 
background of June was the man with the wart. 
The next day, in the garden, Francois related to 
the marquis his interview with the dreaded Jacobin. 
The gentleman was delighted. 
“ Mon Dicu! Francois, you are a great man; but 
I fear it will do no good; my turn must be near. De 
Crosne and poor Fleury got their little billets last 
evening, and are off on a voyage of discovery to-mor- 
row, along with M. de la Morne, and De Lancival, and 
more. They will be in good society. Did you think 
that Jacobin Apollo would be pricked into letting me 
out for the chance of killing me ? ” 
“It came near to that, monsieur. I did say that 
you were not much of a blade, after all; that Citizen 
Amar was out of condition when you last met; and 
that if he and I could fence a little,—outside, of 
course,—M. le Marquis would regret the meeting.” 
“ Delicious! And he took it all ? ” 
“Yes, as little Annette takes a fairy-tale of M. 
Fleury’s—who will tell no more, poor fellow! ” 
“ But, after all, we are still here. I envy you the 
interview. Parbleu! these fellows do their best, but 
they can’t take the jests out of life. I hope the next 
world will be as amusing,” 
As he ceased, Francois exclaimed: 
“ By all the saints ! there is that crazy fool Despard.” 
“ Despard—Despard ?” repeated the marquis. 
“ That is a contribution to the show. How the mis- 
chief did he get here ? *’ 234 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
The unlucky Jacobin was wandering about like a 
lost dog, a shabby, dejected figure. Toto, at play, 
recognized his master’s former partner, and jumped 
up in amiable recognition. Despard kicked him, and 
the poodle, unaccustomed to rude treatment, fled to 
Francois. The thief’s long face grew savage and 
stern; to hurt Toto was a deadly offense. 
“Pardon, monsieur,” he said to the marquis, and 
went swiftly to where Despard stood against the wall. 
“ Look here, rascal,” said Francois; “ if ever thou 
dost kick that dog again, I will twist thy neck.” 
Despard did not seem to take in his meaning. 
“ It is thou, Francois. There is the ci-devant—the 
marquis. I followed him. I—Pierre Despard—I de- 
nounced him. I did it. I am not afraid.” 
“ Stuff! Didst thou hear me ? "What have I to do 
with ci-devant marquises? Thou hast kicked Toto.” 
“ I see him ; I must speak with him.” 
“ Fichtre! he is mad,” said the thief, and went after 
him. 
At the coming of Despard, ragged, wild-eyed, ex- 
cited, the group about the tall gentleman turned. 
Despard paused before him. “ It is my turn now! 
I followed—I followed—I denounced thee—I, Pierre 
Despard. They will let me out when thou art to die; 
it will be soon. I will take thy child—thy bastard— 
my wife’s child. We will go to see thee—I and thy 
hunchback—to see thee on the tumbrel at the guillo- 
tine. She hath thy own cold eyes—frozen eyes. Thou 
wilt know her by those when thou art waiting—wait- 
ing— shivering.” 
The marquis listened with entire tranquillity. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
235 
“ One or two more in tlie audience will matter 
little ”; and, smiling, he walked away. 
A strange tremor seized on the chin and lower lip 
of Despard. He said to Francois, “ Come with me,” 
and then, in a bewildered manner, “ He is n’t afraid 
yet. I—I want him to be afraid.” 
“ Dame! thou wilt wait then till the cows roost and 
the chickens give milk.” 
“ No; it will come.” 
“ Stuff! How earnest thou here ? Didst thou de- 
nounce thyself ? I have heard of men mad enough to 
do that.” 
“ No. Do not tell. I trust thee; I always did trust 
thee. I am a spy. I am to stay here till I want to 
be let out, when he—he is tried. I wanted to watch 
him. Some day he will have fear—fear—and—I—” 
“Well, of all the mad idiots! A mouse to walk 
into a trap of his own accord ! Dieu! but the cheese 
must have smelt good to thee.” 
“I shall go out when I want to go. Didst thou 
know his daughter is dead ? I am sorry she is dead.” 
“Yes—God rest her soul! ” 
“ I am sorry she is dead because she cannot be here. 
I wish she were here. If only she were here, it would 
be complete. Then he would be afraid.” 
“ Bon Dieu! ” cried several, “ he will kill him! ” 
The thief had caught Pierre by the throat, and, scarce 
conscious of the peril of his own strength, he choked 
the struggling man, and at last, in wild rage, hurled 
him back amid a startled mass of tumbled people. 
“ Beast! ” muttered Francois, at his full height 
regarding angrily the prostrate man. 236 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
In an instant the jailers were at his side. “What 
is this?” said they. 
“ He—he kicked my dog! ” 
“ Did he ? Well, no more of this, citizen.” 
“ Then let him he careful how he kicks my dog; 
and take him away, or—” 
Pierre needed no further advice. 
Presently Ste. Luce came over to Francois. 
“ What is wrong ? ” 
“ He kicked my dog! ” 
“ Indeed ? Do yon know this man well ? Once you 
warned me about him. Where have you met ? ” 
“We juggled together, monsieur, when I used to 
read palms. He is a bit off his head, I think.” 
“’T is common in France just now, or else the re- 
verse is. But he has a damnably good memory. We 
of Normandy say, ‘As is the beast, so are his claws/' 
The fellow is of good blood in a way; but, mon Dieu! 
he is a coward to be pitied. To be through and 
through a coward does much enlarge the limits of 
calamity. If I or if you were to hate a man, for rea- 
sons good or bad, we would kill him. But a coward! 
What can he do ? He has his own ways, not mine or 
yours. His claws are not of the make of mine. I 
have no complaint to make as to his fashion of 
revenging himself; but really, revenge, I fancy, must 
lose a good deal of its distinctness of flavor when it 
waits this long. It is, I should say, quite twelve 
years—quite. There is a child, he says, or there was. 
Do you chance to know anything about it?” 
“ Yes.” 
“Did you ever see it? Is it male or female?” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
237 
u A girl, monsieur. I never saw it.” 
“How old?” 
u I do not know.” 
“ Penitence becomes a question of dates, Francois. 
But it is true—true that I never had the least talent 
for regret; and if a man is not capable of regret, why, 
Francois, how the deuce can he achieve penitence? 
Don’t think I am joking, my most accomplished 
thief. There are men here who—there is M. de- 
wed, no matter. There are men here who are honestly 
bewailing their past—well, amusements—sins, if you 
please. I cannot. There are some here who, because 
they are noble by descent, are making believe not to 
be afraid, and will make believe until the knife falls. 
I am not penitent, because I am not; and as to the 
knife, I have had a most agreeable life, and should 
never have gone on living if life had ceased to 
amuse me.” 
He was now silent awhile, his strong, handsome 
features clear to see, as they lay on the scant grass 
in the sunshine. The thief had learned that at times 
this great seigneur would talk, and liked to do so; 
and that at other times he was to be left to the long 
silences which were difficult to secure where this 
morbidly gay crowd, of all conditions of men, was 
seeking the distraction of too incessant chat. 
He rose quietly, and went away to talk with Dom- 
ville of the Comedie, who himself was always glad of 
the company of Francois’s cheery visage. 
In the salon, which was now deserted, he saw 
Despard. Pierre stood at an open window, and was 
pulling at his fingers, as Francois had so often seen 238 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
him doing. He was gazing at the people in the yard. 
His eyes wandered feebly here and there, as if without 
interest or purpose. His attitude of dejection touched 
some chord of pity in his partner’s heart. 
“Dame! he must have thought I was rough with 
him for a dog—a dog.” He had no mind to explain. 
Pierre turned to meet him. He was not angry, nor 
was he excited. The shifting phases of his malady 
had brought to him again the horrible misery of such 
melancholy as they who are sound of mind cannot 
conceive. When this torture has a man in its grip, 
the past is as nothing; the present a curse; duty is 
dead; the future only an assurance of continued suf- 
fering; death becomes an unconsidered trifle; life— 
continued life—an unbearable burden. 
Poor Pierre said no word of his ex-partner’s recent 
violence. The tears were running down his cheeks. 
The man at his side was, as usual, gaily cheerful. 
“What is wrong with thee?” said Francois. “I 
was hard on thee, but thou knowest—” 
“What is it? ” replied Pierre. “ I—it is no matter.” 
Francois, surprised, went on: “ Can I help thee ? ” 
“No. I cannot sleep; I cannot eat. I suffer. I am 
in a hell of despair.” 
“ But how, or why, mon ami ? ” 
“ I do not know. I suffer.” 
“ Rouse up a bit. Why didst chance to come here ? 
I asked thee that before. If thou eanst get out, go at 
once. Thou art not fit to be in this place. This devil 
of a marquis excites thee. To be a spy thou shouldst 
be ashamed. Canst thou really get out when it pleases 
thee to go ? ” THE ADVENTURES OE FRANCOIS 
239 
“Why not?” said Pierre, in alarm. “Dost thou 
think they will not let me go ? I did not want to he 
a spy, hut I was half starved. All I could get I sent 
to keep my—his poor little hunchback. Yadier lent 
me some money. I kept none, not a sou. I asked 
him to let me come here as a spy. They say my re- 
ports are useless. I can’t help that. I will go out. 
I want to see that man suffer; I want to see him 
afraid. He is not afraid. Dost thou think he is afraid ?n 
“No.” 
For a moment there was a pause, when Pierre, in a 
quiet, childlike manner, said: “Dost thou think he ever 
will be afraid ? ” 
“No, Pierre; he never will he. What a fool thou 
art to have come here! ’T is not so easy to get out.” 
“ Mon Dieu! don’t say that. I—they said—” 
“Dost thou believe a Jacobin—and Yadier, the 
beast, of all men ? ” 
“ Hush! ” said Pierre, looking about him suspi- 
ciously. “I must go—I must go. I must walk; I 
cannot keep still.” 
He remained in this mood of subdued terror and 
the deepest melancholy for some days. Then for a 
few hours he followed the marquis about, proclaiming 
his own wrongs in a high-pitched voice. At last Ste. 
Luce complained to the keeper, Yaubertrand, who 
hesitated to interfere, being puzzled and fearful as to 
the amount of influence possessed by this spy of the 
Committee of Safety. He mustered enough courage 
at last to tell Despard that he must not speak to the mar- 
quis ; and, as he luckily caught him in his mood of de- 
spair and depression, the man timidly promised to obey. XXI 
Row Frangois, having made a bargain with Citizen Amar, 
cannot keep it with the man of the wart— Row Despard 
dies in the place of the marquis— Of Frangois’s escape 
from prison. 
second week of June was over. The 
keeper, who had taken a fancy to the 
|[ I Ji merry thief, called him aside one after- 
noon, and said: 
“ Thou must write thy report, because 
to-morrow comes Citizen Gregoire. Thou canst use 
the office for an hour, as is permitted. But take care. 
Thou dost know how they are treated in the prisons 
who are suspected of making these reports to the 
committee. I will come for thee at dusk.” 
Francois thanked him, and at the time mentioned 
was locked up in the office; for despite Vaubertrand’s 
amiability, he was careful as to the security of his 
prisoners. As it was now dark, the office table was 
lighted by two candles. He found pen and ink and 
paper, but no competent thoughts. What was he to 
say—whom to accuse? He had made a hasty con- 
tract with Amar, and was of no mind to fulfil his 
share of it. He got up from the desk, and walked 
240 THE ADVENTUEES OF FEANgOIS 
241 
about. “ The deuce! ” he said to Toto, who never left 
him. “JT is a scrape of our own making. I should 
have told that scamp with the pretty face to go to 
the devil with his spy business. Sacristie! doggie, I 
am like that fellow in the play I once saw. He sold 
his soul to the devil, and did n’t want to pay up when 
the time came. What to do?” He had told the 
marquis, whom he trusted, of the difficulty he antici- 
pated. 
Ste. Luce, much amused, said: “Take me for a 
subject. I am as sure to die as an abbot’s capon. If 
you have a conscience, it may rest easy so far as I am 
concerned.” 
Francois took it seriously. “I beg of you, mon- 
sieur—” 
“ Oh, a good idea! ” laughed the nobleman, breaking 
in upon his remonstrance. “ Tell them how you saw 
me kill three good citizens that night on the stairs. 
By Mars! Francois, those twenty minutes were worth 
living for. I was in a plot to rescue the king; tell 
them that.” 
“Not I,” grinned the thief. 
“ Confound it! you are difficult.” 
And now, as Francois recalled their talk, his task 
was not more easy. He nibbled the end of his quill, 
and looked around him. At last, as he walked to and 
fro, he began to exercise his natural inquisitiveness. 
It was never long quiet. He stared at the barred 
windows. A set of pigeonholes attracted him. He 
glanced hastily over their contents. “Tiens! ” he ex- 
claimed. 
Every day or two, about 3 p. m., a clerk of the 242 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Committee of Safety brought a great envelop 
stamped with the seal of the republic. Within was a 
paper on which were clearly set out the names and 
former titles of the citizen prisoners selected for trial 
the night before in joint counsel by the Great Com- 
mittee and that of Security. The keeper copied each 
name on to the space in the blank summons kept for 
this use, and these fatal papers were then duly de- 
livered after supper. 
Francois looked at the packet. It was sealed. He 
knew well what it meant. It was labeled: u Mandate 
of the Tribunals Nos. 4 and 5.” 
“ Toto, we may be among them; we must see.” He 
looked about him. Here were all the writing-table 
implements then in use. He heated a knife, and 
neatly loosened the under vmx of the seal. The 
death-call lay before him. He ran over it with shud- 
dering haste. 
11 Dieu! we are not there. But, mon ami, here is 
the marquis ! ” His was the last name at the foot of 
the first page. Francois sat still, his face in his 
hands. At any moment he might be caught. He 
did not heed. 
“I must do it,” he said. He saw, as it were 
before him, the appealing face of the dead woman, 
and felt in remembrance the hand the great seigneur 
had given him on the stair. He had a glad memory 
of a moment which had lifted him on to the higher 
levels of self-esteem and manhood. 
“I will do it, Toto; ’t is to be risked; and, mon 
Dieu! the rest—the rest of them! ” Some he knew 
well. Some had been kind to him. One had given THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
243 
him clothes when these were greatly needed. He 
was profoundly moved. 
“ If I burn it, ’t is bnt to give them a day, and no 
more—if I burn it! ” 
He took scissors from the table, and carefully cut 
off the half-inch at the foot of the paper. It was now 
without the name “ Ste. Luce, ci-devant marquis.” He 
tore up the strip of paper, and put the fragments in 
the fireplace, behind the unkindled logs. 
Next he casually turned the page. “ del! this calls 
for eleven. I have left but ten. They will think it 
a blunder. One will be wanting; that is all.” 
He used a little melted wax under the large seal, 
replaced the warrant in the outer cover, and returned 
the document to the pigeonhole whence he had taken 
it. This done, he sat down again, and began to write 
his report. 
He found nothing to say, except that those he would 
have spoken of had been already disposed of; and 
now he thought again that he would burn the fatal 
paper. He rose resolute, but at this moment the head 
keeper came back. 
Francois was sorry, but he was not used to writing, 
and made excuses until at last the man said impa- 
tiently : 
“Well, thou must settle all that with Amar and 
Gregoire. I gave thee time enough.” Could he have 
another chance ? He was told that he should have it; 
but now it was supper-time; better not to be missing. 
He went out and up-stairs to his place at table. 
He had lost his gaiety. Here and there at the table 
were the doomed men and women. He could not eat, 244 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
and at last left the room to wander in the corridors. 
Pierre soon found him. He was eager, anxious, and 
full of strange news. 
“ When will that brute marquis be sent for ? I was 
to go out to-day. They have forgotten. There is 
trouble in the Great Committee. I hear of it from 
Vaubertrand. Robespierre and Vadier think things 
go not fast enough; and the rest—the rest, except 
little cripple Couthon and Saint-Just, are opposing 
our great Robespierre.” 
Francois began to be interested, and to ask ques- 
tions. The gazettes were no longer allowed in the 
prisons. The outer world was a blank to all within 
their walls. 
Despard, flushed and eager, told him how daily the 
exit of the prisoners for trial was met by a mob 
clamorous for blood. Then he began to exhibit 
alarm. Did Francois think that he, Pierre, might by 
chance miss the execution of the marquis ? He would 
speak to Gregoire, who was coming next morning. 
They should learn not to trifle with a friend of Robes- 
pierre. When Francois left him he was gesticulating, 
and, as he walked up and down the deserted corridor, 
was cracking his knuckles or gnawing his nails. 
After supper the varied groups collected in the salon. 
The women embroidered. A clever artist was busy 
sketching the head of a girl of twenty for those she 
loved, who were to see her living face no more. Some 
played at cards. Here and there a man sat alone, wait- 
ing, stunned by the sure approach of death. The mar- 
quis was in gay chat with the Vicomte de Beausejour. 
“ Ah, here is my mysterious gentleman! ” cried Ste. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
245 
Luce. “They have bets on you. Tell these gentle- 
men who you really are. They are puzzled.” 
Francois smiled. He was pleased to do or say 
anything which would take his thoughts off the near 
approach of the messenger of doom. He said: 
“ M. le Marquis knows that I am under an oath.” 
“ Pardie! true, true; I have heard as much.” 
“ The bets stand over,” said a gray old man, M. de 
l’Antilhac. “We knew you as a juggler.” 
“Yes, and a fencing-master,” said Du Pin. 
“ You are both right. These times and the king’s 
service set a man to strange trades. Well, gentle- 
men, I am not to be questioned. Tales lose heads.” 
They laughed. “ Pardon me,” said a younger man. 
“ The marquis was about to tell us of the delightful 
encounter you had on his staircase. ’T is like a legend 
of the days of Henri IV of blessed memory.” 
“ Tell them,” said Ste. Luce. 
“ The marquis does me much—Dieu! ” Francois 
cried, and fell back into a chair, weak as a child. The 
turnkey went by him with the fatal missives. 
“ Art thou ill ? ” said De l’Antilhac. “ What is it ? ” 
“Yes,” said Francois. “Excuse me. He—he—” 
And, as it were fascinated, he rose and went after the 
keeper. 
Vaubertrand paused behind a gentleman who was 
playing piquet. 
“ Citizen Ste. Michel,” he said, and passed on, as he 
laid the summons before the player. 
“ At last! ” said the man thus interrupted. “ Quatre 
to the king—four aces. Let it wait.” 
Vaubertrand moved on. Francois followed him. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
The calls to trial and death were distributed. A man 
rolled up the fatal paper without a word, and lighted 
his pipe with it. One of those who sat apart took his 
summons, and fell fainting on the floor. 
“Nothing for me?” said the marquis. 
“Not yet, citizen.” 
“ I was never before so neglected.” 
The game went on. Here and there a woman 
dropped her embroidery and sat back, thinking of 
the world to come, as she rolled the deadly call to 
trial in her wet fingers, and took refuge in the strength 
of prayer. 
Francois felt as if it were he who had condemned 
these people. He went to his cell, and tossed about 
all night, sleepless. Rising early, he went out into the 
garden. After breakfast the keeper said to him: 
“ Thou shouldst have had thy report ready. Gre- 
goire is coming to-day. He is before his time. If he 
is drunk, as usual, there will be trouble. That fool 
Despard is wild to-day. He will be sure to stir up 
some mischief. All the mouchards will be called.” 
“ Despard is an idiot. He is raving one day, and 
fit to kill himself the next. Get him out of this.” 
“ Dame! I should be well pleased. He swears I keep 
him here. He will—ah, mon Dieu! the things he 
threatens. I am losing my wits. My good Francois, 
I have been kind to thee, and I talk rashly. I wish I 
had done with it all.” 
“ And I too, citizen; but thou art safe with me.” 
As the jailer spoke, he looked over his list of those 
summoned. “SacrS bleu! here is a list which calls for 
eleven, and there are only ten names ! ” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
247 
“Some one has made a mistake.” 
“No doubt. But Gregoire never listens. Pray 
God he be sober. Be in the corridor at nine; Gre- 
goire will want to see thee.” 
Francois would be on hand. As to the report, he 
should wish to ask how to draw it up. He found a 
quiet corner in the courtyard, and began to think 
about the man with the wart—the man of whom he 
knew so little, and whom he feared as he had never 
before feared a man. The every-day horror and dis- 
turbance of the morning had begun. Officers were 
coming and going; names were called; there were 
adieus, quiet or heartrending. The marquis was 
tranquilly conversing, undisturbed by the scene, which 
was too common to trouble those who had no near 
friend or relation in the batch of prisoners called for 
trial. Francois had seen it all, day after day. It 
always moved him, but never as now. 
He stood looking at a young woman who was sit- 
ting with the order in her lap, her eyes turned heav- 
enward as if in dumb appeal. Now and then she 
looked from one man to another, as if help must 
come. 
Francois glanced at the marquis; he was the center 
of a laughing group, chatting unconcerned. 
“ del! has the man no heart ? ” he murmured. 
“ Why did I save him even for a day ? The good God 
knows. It must make life easy to be like him.” The 
marquis would have been amazed to know that the 
memory of a white, sad woman’s face, and of one 
heroic hour, had given him a new lease of life. 
“ Ah, Toto,” said the thief to himself, “ we held that 248 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
stair together, he and I” The thought of an uplift- 
ing moment overcame him. A sudden reflection 
that he might have been other than he was flushed 
his face. 
“Ah, my friend Toto, we could have been some- 
thing; we missed our chance in the world. Well, 
thou dost think we had better make a fight for it. 
Life is agreeable, but not here. Let us think. There 
is one little card to play. Art thou up to it? Yes! 
I must go now. Thou wilt wait here, and thou wilt 
not move. In an hour I shall be with thee; and, 
meanwhile, behold a fine bone. No, not yet, but when 
I come. Attention, now! ” 
He turned his back to the prison, took off a shoe, 
and extracted a paper, which he folded so as to be 
small and flat. Then he produced a bit of a kid 
glove he had asked from Mme. Cerise of the Comedie 
Fran<?aise. In it he laid the paper, and put the little 
packet, thus protected, in the dog’s mouth. “Keep 
it,” he said. “ It is death—it is life.” The dog lay 
down, his sharp black nose on his paws, shut his eyes, 
and seemed to be asleep. He had done the thing 
before. 
When Francois entered the corridor he found the 
keeper. 
“Come,” said Yaubertrand. “The commissioner 
is in a bad way, and drunk, too. He is troubled, I 
think, and the citizens who are outside reproach him 
that the supply for the guillotine is small, and the 
prisons full. What have I done to be thus tormented ? 
There will be a massacre, del! I talk too much. I 
have favored thee. Take care—and thou canst laugh THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
249 
yet.” Whereupon Francois laughed anew, and went 
after him. 
The large hall on the first floor was unusually full. 
There was much confusion. The great street door, as 
it was opened wide and shut again in haste, gave a 
not reassuring glimpse of men in red bonnets roaring 
the £a ira. Over all rose the shrill tongues of the 
women of the markets. A new batch of prisoners 
was pushed in, the keeper declaring he had no room. 
Officers of the Committee of Safety untied the hands 
of the newcomers, and ranged them on stone benches 
to the left. On the right were those who were called 
to trial. Francois stood aside, watchful. 
Pierre Despard was waiting, flushed and anxious. 
As a spy, he had leave from Yaubertrand to descend 
in order to state his case to Gregoire. He went hither 
and thither, noisy, foolish, gesticulating. He was now 
in his alternate mood of excitement, and soon began 
to elbow his way toward the office. 
“ Citizen La Yaque is summoned.” 
A tall man answered from the bench. Then another 
and another was called. The officers went down the 
line, and, paper in hand, verified the prisoners. They 
were taken, one by one, into a side room by a second 
officer, and their hands secured behind their backs. 
At last the first officer said: “Here are but ten, 
Citizen Yaubertrand, and the list calls for eleven. 
The keeper must see the commissioner.” The officer 
in charge reproached Yaubertrand for neglect. The 
man with the wart came out from the office. 
“ Silence! ” he cried. “ What is this ? ” 
The matter was explained, or was being set forth, 250 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
when the door opened, and another half-dozen unfor- 
tunates were rudely thrust in, while the crowd made 
a furious effort to enter. Gregoire turned pale. 
“ Thou shalt answer for this. Find another. I 
shall hear of it, and thou, too.” 
Meanwhile, Despard,too insane to observe Gregoire’s 
condition, and lost to all sense of anything but his own 
sudden wish to escape, was frantically pulling the 
furious commissioner by the arm. 
“ Citizen,” he cried, “ I must be heard! Dost hear ? 
Thou wilt repent. I am the friend of Robespierre.” 
Gregoire paid no attention ; he was half drunk, and 
raging at poor Vaubertrand. 
“ I will report thee,” cried Despard. “1 denounce 
thee!” 
Gregoire turned upon him in a rage. 
“ Who is this ? ” he cried. 
“I am Despard of the fourth section. I will let 
thee know who I am.” In his madness he caught 
Gregoire by the collar and shook him. 
Gregoire called out: u Take away this fool! What! 
threaten me—me—Gregoire ! Ah, thou art the rascal 
who plunders chateaux. I know thee. Thou dost 
threaten an officer of the Committee of Safety. Tie this 
fellow; he will do for the eleventh. Quick, quick ! ” 
There was no hesitation. The officers seized their 
prey, and Gregoire, growling, went again into the office. 
Pierre fought like the madman he was, but in a 
minute was brought back screaming and added to 
the corvee. It was complete. He was carried out 
raving, amid the yells and reproaches of the mob, 
which broke up and went along with the wagons. THE ADVENTURES OP FRANgOIS 
251 
Again there was quiet in the hall, where the thief 
stood in wonder, horror-stricken. “ It is I that have 
killed him—he who did long to see another die. And 
for him to die in the place of the marquis—dame! it 
is strange.” 
“ Ciel!” cried Vaubertrand, wiping the sweat from 
his brow. “ This is the second they took this way to 
make up for some one’s blunder. Come, and have a 
care what you say. He is half drunk.” 
Francois entered the office. 
“ Who is this 1 ” said Gregoire, facing him, with his 
large, meaningless face still flushed and angry. 
Vaubertrand pushed forward the reluctant Francois. 
“ It is one of the reporters, citizen commissioner.” 
“Ahem! One of Citizen Amar’s appointments,” 
said Gregoire. “Thou canst go, Citizen Vauber- 
trand”; and he looked up as he sat at the table. 
“Thy name?” 
“ Francois,” said the thief. 
“ Thy occupation ? ” 
“Juggler.” 
The citizen commissioner was on the uncertain 
line between appearance of sobriety obtained by 
effort and ebriety past control. As he interrogated 
Francois his head dropped forward. He recovered 
himself with a sharp jerk, and cried sharply: 
“ Why dost thou not answer ? I said, How didst 
thou get here, and who gave thee thy order to 
report ? ” 
“ Citizen Amar; he is a friend of mine.” 
“ Is he ? Well, where is thy sacrS report ? ” 
“I should like to tell the citizen commissioner 252 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
what I have to say. I—I did not know just how to 
frame it.” 
Meanwhile Gregoire was considering him with un- 
steady eyes. “ Ah, now I have it; now I remember 
thee. Thou art an ex-emigre. I shall attend to thee. 
It was thou who stole my wallet of papers; and thou 
eouldst laugh, too. del! what a laugh! Try it now.” 
Francois replied that he was no emigre; as to the 
rest, he could explain; and leaning over, he said 
quietly: 
“Yon will do well to hear what I have to say.” 
“ ‘ You will do well ’! Idiot! Why dost thou say 
lyou, you’1 Cursed aristocrat that thou art! Say 
‘thou’ when thou dost address me, or I shall—where 
is that report ? ” 
“ If the citizen will listen. There was in that wallet 
a little paper addressed to Citizen de la Yicomterie. 
jDame! it was good reading, and I have it still.” 
“ Thou hast it ? Thou wilt not have it long.” 
Gregoire was not over-intelligent, and had now the 
short temper of drink. The prisoner tried to get a 
moment in which to explain that another held the 
document. 
Gregoire was past hearing reason. “ Officers, here! 
here ! ” he cried. “ Search this man! Search him. 
Strip him. Here! here! ” 
Francois did not stir. “When thou hast done we 
can talk.” 
“ Hold thy tongue! Search him.” 
“ Ma foi, marquis,” said the thief, later, “ they did it 
well. They even chopped up the heels of my shoes. 
And my coat! Sucre! The good keeper gave me THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
253 
another. In our cell, as I learned, they went through 
the beds and Heaven knows what else. I was well 
pleased, I can tell thee, when it was all over.” 
The commissioner had now cooled down. “ Put on 
thy clothes,” said Gregoire, and himself shut the door. 
It was Francois’s turn. 
“ Citizen,” he said, “ didst thou think me fool enough 
to leave within reach that little letter of thine to the 
good citizen of the committee—to—ah, yes, La Vicom- 
terie is his name. I am not an 6migr6, only a poor 
devil of a thief and a juggler. I do not love Citizen 
Robespierre any better than some others love him— 
some I could name. But one must live, and the day 
I go out to thy infernal tribunal, Robespierre will 
have thy letter. A friend will go himself and lay it 
before the committee.” 
Gregoire grew deadly pale, all but the wart, which 
remained red. “ I am betrayed! ” 
“Wait a little. Thou art not quite lost, but thou 
wilt be unless—” 
“Unless what?” 
“ Unless thou wilt open that door and set me free. 
I have no grudge against thee. I will arrange to have 
for thee the letter, and must receive from thee a new 
carte de sitrete, and a good passport on business of 
the Committee of Safety.” 
The commissioner was partly sobered. “ How shall 
I know that thou wilt keep thy word ? ” 
“Thou wilt not know until I do. Why should I 
not ? ” 
“ But the letter may be lost.” 
“Well, what then? Thou wilt be safe, and have 254 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
one less life to answer for to the devil when he gets 
thee.” 
“ Talk business. There is no devil.” 
“1 don’t agree with thee. His name is Robespierre. 
The mischief is that it is I who do not trust thee. 
Thou hast a wart, citizen. Men who have warts are 
unlucky to meet. But take care, because I am a 
desperate man, and most extremely value my head. 
If thou shouldst fail to—” 
“ No, no; I promise.” 
“ Good, then.” 
“ Wait; I will write out the papers.” 
“ I shall not hurry thee. I must pack up. I will 
be back in half an hour. Be so kind as to arrange 
that I may return without hindrance.” 
Francois went at once to the garden, and called 
Toto. Then he hastened to his cachot, or cell, and, 
finding himself alone, shut the door, took the little 
packet from Toto’s mouth, and gave him the promised 
bone. He placed the paper inside his stocking, and 
secured it with a pin. Next he gathered up his 
small effects, left his mangled coat on the bed of a 
fellow-prisoner, and descended thoughtfully to the 
office. 
He was glad to see that the man of the wart was 
sitting apparently inattentive to the piles of accounts 
before him. “Clearly, the citizen is worried,” said 
Francois to himself. 
“ I have thy papers. One had to be sent out for 
a signature. Here is thy card of safety, and reap- 
proved as that of a citizen who has denounced an 
ex-emigre. Also, behold a passport, and an order THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
255 
from the Committee of Safety to leave Paris on busi- 
ness of the republic. All are in the name of Citizen 
Francois, juggler.” 
“ The citizen has been thoughtful.” 
“ Sucre! I never do things by halves; I am thor- 
ough. And now, as to the paper ? ” 
“ It will be best for thee to come, at twelve to-day, 
to No. 33 Ms Rue Perpignan. There I will take thee 
to my old room, or another, and make good my side 
of the bargain. After that, I have the agreeable hope 
never to meet thee again.” 
“ I will be there at noon.” 
Francois’s watchful ear detected a certain emphasis 
on the “ I ” of this phrase, which made him suspicious. 
He said quietly: 
“ Citizen, thou hast sold me my head. I shall give 
thee thine. Afterward I shall be in thy power.” 
“ Yes, yes; that might be so with Amar or Couthon, 
but not with Andre Gregoire.” 
“ Tiens! ” said the thief, “ what is this ? ‘ Andre ’ ? 
This order is signed1 Alphonse Gregoire.’ The citizen 
must have been absent-minded. Look! ” 
Gregoire flushed. “True, true. I will write a 
second. I was troubled.” 
Francois stood still, received the second order, and, 
saying, “ An revoir, citizen,” was about to leave, when 
a thought seemed to strike him. He paused. “ There 
is here a ci-devant marquis you may recall—Ste. Luce.” 
“Well?” 
“ Put his name at the foot of the file of the accused 
and keep it there. Get a clerk to do it. The citizen 
is aware that it is done every day.” 256 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“ Impossible! Art thou insane ? I run risk enough 
with thy order and passport. But this I dare not do. 
There are limits.” 
“ Do it, or I throw up my bargain. By Heaven, I 
am in earnest! Come, what will it cost ? Will one 
hundred louis d’or do the business ? ” 
Gregoire reflected. Wliat more simple than to say 
yes, pocket the money, and let things take their 
course ? 
“I will do it for that—I mean I can have it done.” 
“ Then give me ten minutes.” 
“ I will wait.” 
The rich throughout these evil days were allowed 
to have in prison as much money as they could get 
from without. About March of this sad year they 
were told that they must feed the poorer captives, 
and were regularly assessed. Francois was aware 
that the marquis was well provided. He found him in 
the garden, and asked him to step aside. 
“I am free, monsieur,” he said. “No matter how. 
And I have bargained for your own head.” He 
briefly related so much of his talk with Gregoire as 
concerned the marquis. 
Ste. Luce looked at him. u Pardie! You are an 
unusual type of thief—or man. I would thank you 
if I considered my head worth much. But, after all, 
it is a natural attachment one’s body has for one’s 
head, or one’s head for one’s body, to put it correctly. 
Will it be wasted money, my admirable, thief, or will 
the rascal keep his word ? ” 
“Yes; he will keep his word—after we get through 
with the affair.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
257 
“You are a great man, Francois, but I have not 
the money. I lost it last night to Delavigne. I will 
get the loan of it. Rather a new idea to borrow one’s 
head! Wait a little.” He came back in a few minutes. 
“ It pretty well cleaned out two of them. Good luck 
to you; and if ever we are out of this hole, we must 
fence a little. By the way, I hear they took that 
poor devil Despard to-day. It is a relief. He bored 
me atrociously.” 
“ Yes; they took him in your place, monsieur. It 
was to have been to-day—” 
“ To-day! In my place ? Tiens! that is droll.” 
“Yes.” 
“ But how—why ? ” 
“No matter now. I will tell monsieur some day.” 
“ Are you a magician, Master Francois ? ” 
“ I was. But I did not desire this man’s death.” 
“ And the guillotine will have him, and he will not 
be on hand to see me scared, del! but it is strange. 
Alas ! the disappointments of this mortal life ! Good 
luck to you, and au revoir, I thank you.” 
A few minutes later, Gregoire, having carefully 
disposed of the gold about his ample person, escorted 
Citizen Francois to the outer door. The look with 
which the commissioner with the wart regarded the 
retreating back and the big ears of Francois was un- 
friendly, to say the least. XXII 
Wherein is told how Francois baits a crab-trap with 
the man of the wart. 
pFWRAN(yOIS understood the risks of his 
position. For a time he was safe. After 
mrw ae gave up that precious paper he would 
Jlgg be at Gregoire’s mercy. “ More or less,” 
muttered the thief, with a laugh which 
set Toto to capering. He went toward the Seine, 
looked in the shop-w'indows, and had a bite and a 
good bottle of wine, for the marquis had insisted on 
giving him ten louis for his own use. About half- 
past eleven he turned into the Rue Perpignan, and 
rang the bell at No. 33 bis. 
“Come, Toto,” he said, as he went in. “We owe 
Mme. Quatre Pattes a little debt. Let us be honest 
and pay.” He closed the door behind him, and heard 
the sharp voice of the concierge: “ Who goes there ? 
Speak, or I will be after thee.” He drewr back, and 
looked in through the glassed door of the Crab’s room. 
He knew she would not sally out. Why should she ? 
Her house was only a hive of thieves and low women, 
who were driven away when they could not pay, and 
who rarely plundered one another.” 
258 THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
259 
He had never before so carefully inspected his 
landlady. She was seated at a table, about to drink 
a cup of cocoa. The room, the table, the little well- 
swept hearth, were all as clean as care and work could 
keep them. The woman herself was no less neat than 
her surroundings, yet she seemed one who belonged 
to the sties of the Cite’s lowest life. There was some- 
thing strangely feline in the combination of animal 
appearance with the notable cleanliness of her patched 
clothes, her person, and her abode. Her back, bent 
forward from the waist, and rigid, forced her to turn 
her head up and to one side to attain a view of the 
face of man. The same need kept her red eyes wide 
open. The malady which caused this distortion had 
ceased to be active. It had scarcely affected her gen- 
eral health. Like many of those who have suffered 
from the more common forms of the disease which 
makes the hunchback, she possessed amazing strength. 
Now, as Francois stood hesitating, watchful, she 
sat at table before him, intent on her meal, looking 
here or there for bread or salt, her head swaying 
from side to side. 
“ If she were to bite a man, he would be as good as 
dead,” murmured the thief. u What is it she is like ? 
Ah, ’t is the vipers in the wood of Fontainebleau. Bon- 
jour, maman,” he cried gaily, as he went in. 
Taken by a sharp surprise, she gripped at her two 
sticks on the table, but missed them. They fell clat- 
tering, and her shaky hands dropped on her lap. She 
lacked not courage. As she sat crouched, the bald 
head, red-eyed and vigilant, was held back to watch 
this enemy. 260 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Toto ran in, and fawned at her feet. 
“ Enchanted to see you, maman” By this time she 
had her wits about her, and, hearing no accusing 
charges, felt more at ease. 
“Come back again, art thou, my fine thief-bird? 
Did he fly to his nest ? Ha! he knows who will take 
care of him. That sacre shoemaker it was who de- 
nounced thee. Didst thou think it was thy little 
maman ? Thou didst scold me. But how didst thou 
get out ? ” 
“Ah, no matter now,” said Francois. “I have 
work on hand for thee. If I mistrusted thee, it 
is not here I should have come. Sometime we will 
have a little eau-de-vie and a pipe, maman, and I 
will tell thee all about it. Wouldst thou serve 
the republic, and be well paid for it? Here, take 
thy sticks; thou art fit for anything only when thou 
hast all thy four legs. Listen, now; and, to begin, 
thou canst read a little—enough to understand this 
passport, and this order from the Great Committee 
of Safety ? ” 
She looked eagerly over the papers. “ Yes, yes.” 
“ And thou canst read this still better.” He let a 
gold louis drop on the table. She put out a claw, 
and, failing through tremor to pick it up, drew it to 
the edge, and for a moment held it under her eyes; then 
she put it into her mouth, and, apparently satisfied, 
chewed on it, moving her lower jaw from side to side. 
“A good purse, maman. It would be a bold man 
or a blind would steal thy head for the gold. Heads 
always lose in our France to-day; thy own is none 
too sure, maman” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
261 
“If thou art thinking to scare Quatre Pattes, it 
won’t do. Ha! it won’t pay.” She looked as if it 
would not. 
Francois saw that he had made a misplay. He 
laughed his best. “ N'om de diable! thou didst like a 
joke once. No matter. My time is short. I ex- 
pect a citizen in a few minutes. Is my old room 
empty ? ” 
“ Yes, and half the rest. I tell thee, mm fils, I have 
missed thee.” 
“ Give me the key, and pen, ink, and paper. These 
will do. Thy ink is dry. A little water—so. I shall 
come down in a minute or two, and take the citizen 
up with me. After that I shall come down alone. 
The citizen will be locked up.” 
“ Good. Will he be alive ? I will have no tricks; 
they get one into trouble.” 
“ Alive ! Yes; he will howl.” 
“Ah, he will howl. What shall I get?” 
“ He will pay to get out.” 
“ He will pay—how much ? ” 
“ One—two—three hundred francs.” 
“ Pshaw! Paper ? ” 
“ No; gold. At four to-morrow—no later, no sooner 
—at four to-morrow thou wilt let him out; and, mind 
thee, Dame Quatre Pattes, this is business of the re- 
public. What happens to him after he is let out is of 
no moment. He may very likely make a fuss 5 he is 
bad-tempered. Wilt thou take the risk?” 
“I—Quatre Pattes? Three hundred francs! I?” 
“ If I return not to give further orders before twelve, 
thou mayst ask the municipals to be here at four. 262 
THE ADVENTURES OF FEANQOIS 
That will save trouble. He will then be in no way to 
swear thou hast his money. That may be the best 
plan. I have no mind to get thee into trouble. Now, 
hold thy tongue; and remember, it will be the little 
cripple Couthon who will reckon with thee if in this 
business thou dost fail.” 
“ This is all very well if thou dost not return; but 
who will pay me if thou art of a mind to come and 
take him away thyself ? ” 
“ ’T is a sharp old Crab,” laughed Francois. “ If I 
come for him, I promise thee he shall pay thee full 
rent; and here is his denier a Bieu, maman.” He cast 
another louis in her lap. “ If I come not by noon, 
get all you can, and denounce him as a suspect; but 
remember—not till four.” 
“ Queue du didble! ’T is a fine transaction,” cried 
the Crab, and knocked her sticks together for emphasis. 
“We will bleed him like a doctor; we will send in the 
bill under the door; and then—we will have some nice 
municipals for sextons. Ha! ha! It is well to have 
the credit on one’s little carte de surete 
Francois assured her that the plan was good. At 
this point, however, she became suddenly suspicious. 
She stood crouching over her sticks, the snake-like 
head slowly moving from side to side, her eyes search- 
ing the thief’s smiling face. “ Why is the man to be 
kept ? What is it ? ” 
He expected this. “ Ask Couthon the palsied that, 
thou imbecile. I will take him elsewhere. There are 
a dozen houses where they ask no questions. Yes or 
no?” 
“Yes, yes!” Caution was put to sleep by greed; THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
263 
or, more truly, by want, which was nearing its 
extremity. 
He felt secure. “If he should ring before I get 
down-stairs, let him wait. Now, the ink and key.” 
“Is he to make his will? Thou wilt not be 
long ? ” 
“ No; I want something that I left.” 
“ Ah ! thou didst leave something ? ” 
“Yes, and thou didst not find it, maman. Fie, fie, 
for a clever woman! Well, if thou didst not find it, 
few could. Wait, now.” 
He went swiftly up-stairs with Toto, and unlocked 
the door, leaving the key outside in the lock. He put 
the writing-materials on a table. In the chimney, just 
within reach of his farthest touch, he found his pistol. 
It was not loaded, and he had no powder to recharge 
it. He laughed as, putting it behind him in his waist- 
belt, under his cloak, he descended the stair. 
“ All is right. Cordon, if you please,” he cried from 
the hall. He had not waited outside five minutes 
when Gregoire appeared, in ordinary dress, without 
the official feathered hat or the scarf of a functionary. 
He was now sober enough, but uneasy, and looked 
about him as if fearing recognition. 
“Come,” said Francois. They mounted the ill- 
smelling stairway to the attic. Neither spoke. Once 
they were within the room, Francois said: “ Sit 
down.” He took a stool, placing himself between 
Gregoire and the door. “ To business,” he said, and 
slipped out the famous letter from Gregoire to De la 
Vicomterie. He glanced at it, laughing. “ There are 
three or more heads in this,” he said. “ Robespierre 264 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
would pay well for it, or Saint-Just. One might put 
it up at auction. There would be high bidding.” 
Gregoire said: “ I have paid for it. Give it to me 
—give it to me! ” 
11 No hurry, commissioner.” The thief enjoyed the 
situation. “ Let us talk a little. Let us make things 
a trifle safer. Have the kindness to write a receipt for 
one hundred louis d’or accepted by thee as security for 
the head of one Louis de Ste. Luce, ci-devant marquis.” 
“ Not I! ” cried Gregoire, starting up. 
11 Ah, I think thou wilt ”; and, with this, Francois 
drew his quite harmless pistol, and cocked it. 
“ Dost thou mean to murder me ? Help! help! 
Murder! ” 
Francois seized him by the throat and thrust him 
down on to the chair. 
11 The devil! Fat fool! must I really kill thee ? 
Hold thy tongue. Toto,” he said, “just look at this 
gentleman. He is afraid, a coward—he who has killed 
so many—so many brave men and women, who died 
and showed no fear. Keep the door, Toto. There, 
now, citizen; write it, and quick, too, or—” 
11 But it is my death.” 
“ What do I care ? It is certain death unless thou 
dost keep faith. Once the marquis is free, and I am 
secure, I will burn it. That is all. Thou art forced 
to trust me. The situation is simple, and rather 
different from what it was at nine this morning. 
Thou art trapped.” 
It was true, and Gregoire knew it. He drew his 
chair to the table, and wrote a few lines as the thief 
dictated. Francois added a request for a date. “ Thou THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
265 
art not clever with a pen,” he said; “thy hand 
shakes.” 
“ I am a lost man! ” 
“ No; by no means. But look out for my marquis. 
He ought to be very precious to thee, because—because 
if there should be any accident to him or to me, my 
friend will promptly place this harmless receipt in the 
hands of Saint-Just; and then—” 
Gregoire sat in a cold sweat, saying at intervals: 
“ I am lost. Let me go.” 
“ Not quite yet. Give me ten louis.” 
“I—I can’t. I left the money at home.” 
“Thou art lying. I heard it rattle when I shook 
thee. I might take it all. I am generous, just, like 
the incorruptible man with the green around his eyes, 
one Robespierre. Come, now.” 
Gregoire, reluctant, counted out the gold. “Let 
me go,” he said. There were scarce left in him the 
dregs of a man. He rose, pale and tottering. 
“ Not quite yet, my friend. Thou wilt wait here a 
little while. Then a citizen hag will come up and let 
thee out. But be careful; no noise. The gentlemen 
who inhabit this mansion like not to be disturbed 
in their devotions. Moreover, they are curious, and 
generally inquisitive as to purses. Thou hast a few 
hours for reflection on thy sins. Pray understand 
that this little paper will be put in the hands of a 
friend of the marquis; I shall not keep it. The trap 
will be well set. Am I clear f ” 
The commissioner made no reply. 
“ I forgot,” said Francois. “ Here is thy letter. I 
keep my word. The receipt is enough.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
The compromising document lay on the table, un- 
noticed by Gregoire. He fell back, limp and cowed, 
gripping the seat with both hands to save himself from 
slipping out of the chair. The sweat ran down his 
face. When Francois, calling to the poodle, left him 
alone, he made no motion; he was like a beaten cur. 
“ Come, Toto,” said Francois, as he locked the door. 
“ That for his wart! It is not as big as it used to be, 
and it is not in the middle of his nose.” He went 
down to the room of the concierge, and threw the key 
of his room in her lap. 
“ He is very quiet, thv patient up-stairs; he hath a 
chill.” 
Quatre Pattes, standing by, nodded, and looked up. 
“ Is he alive ? No lies, young man.” 
“ Alive ? Not quite; only well scared. Imagine 
thyself one day on the red stair, and the basket all 
ready, and so neat,—thou art fond of neatness,—all 
as clean as thy room; and the knife—” 
“ Shut up that big jaw! I am Quatre Pattes. Dost 
thou want to frighten me ? ” 
“ I ? By St Fiacre, no ! I only want to let thee 
understand how the citizen on the fourth floor feels.” 
“ He will bleed the better, my dear.” She rattled 
the sticks, and looked up at Francois, her head sway- 
ing as the head of the cobra sways. She was still in 
some doubt as to this too ready pupil, whom she had 
taught so much. “Art thou trying to fool Mother 
Quatre Pattes ? ” 
“Oh, stuff! Go up and speak to the man. But 
take care; this is no light matter to put thy claws 
into. The man will rage; but a day without diet will THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
267 
quiet him a good bit. Then thou canst begin to make 
thy little commercial arrangement.” 
“Two hundred—three hundred. No rags, no as- 
signats.” 
“ Might get four hundred, Mother Crabby. There 
will be two sides to the question.” 
The old woman laughed a laugh shrill and virulent. 
“Two sides? I see—inside and outside. All right.” 
Francois stood in the doorway as she spoke. 
“ By-by, maman; and don’t frighten him too much. 
Thy style of beauty is not to the taste of all men. 
Folks are really afraid of thee, maman. Don’t make 
it a part of the bargain that he marry thee.” 
“ Good idea, that! And when shall I see thee ? ” 
“ Possibly to-morrow; certainly within a week or 
so. I may have a few days’ work for the committee 
in Villefranche—dirty country, filthy inns, not like 
thy room”; and he glanced at it. “I always do like 
to see how neat it is, and how clean. It would please 
Sanson. He is so particular; keeps things clean and 
ready—always ready.” 
“ ’T is true,” said Quatre Pattes, and clattered away 
up the hall. 
Francois heard her sticks on the stair, and her shrill 
laughter. “ Thy cheese is poisoned, old rat,” he said. 
Once secure of the absence of his too observant 
landlady, Francois called to Toto and went out of the 
house. It was now about half-past one. No suspi- 
cious persons were visible. He had doubted this 
Gregoire. He had no mind to leave Paris, but when 
asking a passport he meant that Gregoire should think 
he had done so. He moved away, with the dog at 268 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
his heels, and presently stood awhile in deep thought, 
at the end of the street. Gregoire was safe; he could 
harm no one for a day, and after that would be the 
last man in Paris to trouble Francois. Amar was to 
be feared, but that was to be left to chance and cau- 
tious care. Quatre Pattes? He smiled. “’T is as 
tine as a play, Toto. Here comes the last act. Can 
we go away and not see it ? ” He looked back. The 
shoemaker whom the Crab had wished him to de- 
nounce, with a view to the eternal settlement of her 
debts, was standing at his door in the sun, just oppo- 
site to No. 33 bis. It was a good little man, lame of 
a leg, hard-working and timid. 
“It is not to be resisted, Toto. Come, my boy.” 
He went back, and pulled the bell at No. 33 bis. No 
one answered. He rang three times, and became sure 
that, as he had anticipated, the Crab had at once 
gone up to see how much of truth there was in his 
statement. 
Thus assured, he looked about him. He saw no one 
he had need to fear. He crossed the street, and spoke 
to the cobbler. 
“ Come into thy shop; I want to speak to thee.” 
When within, he said: “ I have been arrested, and 
let out—praise be to the saints! I have just now seen 
the old Crab. She owes thee money ? ” 
“Not much.” 
“ No matter. She has asked me to denounce thee, 
my poor friend. I came to warn thee.” 
The cobbler gasped. 11 Dim! and my little ones! 
I have done nothing—I assure thee, nothing.” 
“Nor I, my friend. Now, listen. I am lucky enough “HE PULLED THE BELL AT No. 33 BIS.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
271 
to be in a little employment for the Great Committee. 
I mean to save thee.” 
“ And canst thou do that ? ” 
“Yes, yes. Something will happen to-morrow, 
about four o’clock; and after that no fear of the hag. 
I must see it; it is my business. Can I stay a day—I 
mean until then—in the little room here above thy 
shop ? ” 
“ Why not ? The children are with my sister. They 
shall stay till to-morrow night.” 
He followed the overjoyed cobbler up to the room 
above his shop, sent him out to buy food and wine, 
and sat down to await events. The cobbler came back 
with a supply of diet and the gazettes. Francois sat 
behind the slats of the green window-shades, and 
laughed, or talked to Toto, or read, while at intervals 
he watched No. 33 bis. He read of how Charleroi had 
been taken, and of the recovery of Fleurus. It in- 
terested him but little. 
“ They have cut off the head of the devil, and got 
a new god, my good poodle. Tenez! Hold! Atten- 
tion ! ” He saw Quatre Pattes clatter out. It was 
about 4 p. m. She had no market-net. She was de- 
cisively bent on some errand, and moved with unusual 
celerity, her back bent, her head strained upward to 
get a sufficient horizon. 
“It is altogether pleasant, ami. She will not wait 
till twelve to-morrow. She has gone to denounce him. 
Get up. Here is a nice bite for thee. She is shrewd, 
our snake. If she plunders M. Gregoire,—and she 
will, too,—she knows what he will do when he is out. 
He will denounce her. The play is good, Toto. The 272 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
money she will have, if we know her. But, mon ami, 
if he makes her believe through the door that he is 
the great Gregoire of the wart, and she lets him out, 
and is scared, and asks no pay, Toto, ’t is neverthe- 
less a scotched snake she will be. The Wart will want 
to be revenged for low diet and loss of the republic’s 
time. Mordieu! Toto, let us bet on it.” 
He read his gazettes, and waited. At six that after- 
noon the Crab came home. At nine Francois went to 
bed. Twice he awakened, laughing; he was thinking 
about Gregoire. The cobbler came in at six with 
breakfast, and Francois warned him to be careful. 
At ten in the morning Quatre Pattes appeared at 
her door, and chatted with one or two dames of the 
fish-market. She rattled her sticks, and talked volubly. 
She was in the best of humors. 
No new thing took place till three o’clock, when 
two municipal guards paused at her door. She came 
forth, spoke to them, and went in, leaving the door 
open. A third joined them. They loitered about. 
Ten minutes went by. Francois grew more and more 
eager as he watched. 
u Ho, ho, Toto,” he exclaimed, “ there was a noise! 
The fool! she has gone up alone to let him out.” 
It was true. Gregoire had yielded in all some three 
hundred francs, and, as ordered, had slipped the money 
under the door, piece by piece, while Quatre Pattes sat 
and counted it with eyes of greed. She came down 
and hid the last of it. Now she went up again, rather 
liking the errand. She was absolutely fearless. She 
opened the door, and stood aside. u Come out,” she 
said, 11 little man.” “‘THE LITTLE TEAT DID WORK,’ CRIED FRANCOIS, BEHIND HIS SCREEN.” THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
275 
Gregoire was past restraining his rage. “ She- 
devil ! ” he cried, and struck at her in a fury of pas- 
sion. He ran past her down the stairs, the terrible 
woman after him. She was wonderfully quick, but 
the man’s fear was quicker. At the last stairway she 
found him beyond her reach, and, cursing him in 
fluent slang of the quarter, she threw one of her sticks 
at him. It caught him on the back of the neck, and 
he fell headlong into the hallway. In an instant he 
was up and staggering into the street. As he came 
forth two guards seized him. “In the name of the 
law! ” Quatre Pattes came swiftly after him, scream- 
ing out: “ Take him ! I denounce him ! He is an 
aristocrat! ” 
What she and Francois saw was unpleasant for her. 
“Worn de del! ’t is the Citizen Gregoire ! ” cried the 
third guard. 
Gregoire was for an instant speechless and breath- 
less. The guards fell back. 
“Arrest me?—me, Gregoire! Have you an order 
to arrest me ? ” He was not quite at ease. 
“ No, no, citizen. It is clearly a mistake. We were 
to arrest a d-devant.'” 
Quatre Pattes stood up, pallid. 
“ Take this woman ! ” cried Gregoire. “ I will send 
an order. The Chatelet, and quick! ” 
“ The little trap did work,” cried Francois, behind 
his screen. “How she squeals—like a pig, a pig! 
She will give up the money. The citizens and she 
disappear within.” 
“ This woman stole it! ” roared the great man, as 
they came out. “ Take her away.” 276 
THE ADVENTURES OP FRANCOIS 
When they came to lay final hands on her, she 
was like a cat in a corner. 
“ Chien de mon dme! ’t is a fine scrimmage,” cried 
Francois, “and the street full.” 
The sticks rattled; and when they were torn from 
her, she used tooth and claw, to the joy of a crowd 
appreciative of personal prowess. At last she was 
carried away, screaming, and exhausted as to all but 
her tongue. 
The commissioner with the wart readjusted his 
garments and his dignity. The crowd cried: “ Vive 
Gregoire!” and the hungry Jacobin went his way, 
furious, in search of dietetic consolation. 
“ The show is over, Toto,” said Francois, as he sat 
down. 
Presently came the cobbler, curious, and much 
relieved. 
“ Ask no questions,” said Francois. “ Here is a little 
money.” 
“ But, citizen, it is a gold louis.” 
“ The show was worth the price of admission. Thou 
art welcome. Hold thy tongue, if thou art wise. At 
dusk I shall slip out. Thou art safe. The Crab will 
denounce no more of her neighbors.” 
“ Two she hath sent to the knife,” said the cobbler. 
“ Dieu! how the tricoteuses will grin ! ” XXIII 
Of how Frangois found lodgings where he paid no rent 
— Of the death of Toto—Of hoiv his master, having 
no friends on the earth, finds them underground. 
BMgMHF dusk Francois went out, and was soon 
moving rapidly across Paris. He was 
IHf /\ |||S in search of lodging, food, and security. 
an 10ur or ess ie was in the half- 
peopled quarter of St. Antoine. Near the 
barrier he turned aside, and stood considering a little 
house in what seemed to have been a well-kept garden. 
On the gate was the large red seal of the republic. It 
was safe for a night. If he took a lodging, he must 
show all his papers, and have his name set out, with 
his business, on a placard such as was nailed to the 
outer door of every house in Paris. His name, as a 
new lodger, must be reported to the sectional com- 
mittee. He was widely known, and, alas! too peculiar 
to escape notice long. Now he needed time to think. 
He wandered awhile, ate in a small cafe, bought wine 
and bread, at night climbed the garden wall, and 
without much trouble found his way into the house. 
It was a sorry sight. The arrests must have been 
sudden and pitiless. The kettle stood on the dead 
277 278 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
embers. The bread, burned black, was in the oven. 
A half-knit stocking lay on a chair. Up-stairs and 
down, it was the same. The open drawers showed 
evidence of search. A dead bird lay starved in a cage. 
The beds were unmade. The clock had stopped. He 
found some scant provisions, unfit for use. It seemed 
a gardener’s house. The place oppressed him, but it 
answered his purpose. His dog troubled him. Toto 
was, like himself, conspicuous, and he felt forced 
during the daytime to leave him locked up in the 
house. But Toto was sagacious, and had learned to 
keep quiet. For several days Francois lived at day- 
light in the streets and cafes, returning at night, to 
get away again before dawn. In the quiet little 
taverns where he went for food and shelter he made 
himself small, and hid in corners; nor, at this time, 
did he laugh much. He bought the gazettes, and read 
them with intelligent apprehension of the fact that 
change was in the air. Robespierre had never had 
with him a majority of his colleagues, and now he was 
becoming more and more conscious of his insecure 
hold on the Convention. As long as the ex-nobles or 
the foes of the republic suffered, it was of little mo- 
ment to the representatives; but when the craving for 
blood, not justified by any political reasons, sent too 
many of their body to the block, the unease of the 
Terror began to be felt within their own hall. To be 
timid, cautious, or obscure had once been security. 
It was so no longer. That terrible master still had 
his way, and, one by one, the best brains of the oppo- 
nents of the Jacobins were sent to perish on the 
scaffold. The Convention began to feel the need for THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
279 
associative self-defense. Revenge, fear, and policy 
combined to aid the enemies of this extraordinary 
person. Like Marat, be began to show physically 
the effects of a life full of alarms; for this monster 
dreaded darkness, trembled at unusual noises, and 
remained to the last the most carefully dressed man 
in Paris. To understand him at all, one must credit 
him in his early political life with a sincere love of 
country, and with willingness to sacrifice himself for 
others. It is impossible to regard him as entirely 
sound of mind at a later date. He became something 
monstrous—a mixture of courage, cowardice, blood- 
madness, self-esteem, and personal vanity. But there 
were men who loved him to the last. 
It was now early in July, the month Thermidor. 
Francois began, as usual, to weary of a life of monot- 
onous carefulness. His supply of money was ample. 
He was well fed and, so far, safe. He sat night after 
night in darkness, and thought of the lady of the 
chateau. He knew that her father was thus far se- 
cure ; his name was not in the daily lists of the victims; 
and these were many, for on the 22d Prairial (June 
10) a decree deprived the accused of counsel, and of 
the right to call witnesses. The end was near. 
One evening about nine, as he came near to the 
garden, he saw lights in the house. Toto was found 
waiting outside of the gate. A girl came forth, and 
soon returned with a net of vegetables. 
“ del! Toto,” said Francois, “ the poor things have 
been released, and thou wert clever to get out. We 
are glad, thou and I; but they have our house.” He 
had left nothing at this lodging, having nothing to 280 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
leave. He walked away, puzzled, and, wandering, 
scarce aware of whither he went, found himself at 
last in the Rue de Seine. It was getting late, and he 
began to look about him for a new lodging. 
“We must find an empty house, Toto. The seal of 
this cursed republic is our best chance.” He did not 
need to look far. In the Rue de Seine he came upon 
a small two-story shop. Beside it was a wide gate- 
way, on which he saw with difficulty, but felt readily, 
the seal no one dared to violate. He concluded that 
there must be a deserted house beyond it, in a 
garden. He passed around by the quai, and entered 
the Rue des Petits-Augustines, and stood before the 
mansion of Ste. Luce. A light was in an upper room. 
Some one was in charge. On either side were railings 
and a garden. It was now ten o’clock, and no one 
visible in the long street of old houses, once the homes 
of the great French nobles. He pushed the poodle 
between the rails, and readily pulled himself up and 
dropped at his side. Once within, he moved with care 
across to the wall behind the mansion, and soon saw 
that he was not in the garden of the marquis, but in 
the larger domain of the Due de la Rochefoucauld- 
Liancourt. His object was to find his way into the 
house which had an outlet on the Rue de Seine. As 
he was arranging his clothing to climb a tree near to 
the wall, he suddenly paused. “ Toto,” he exclaimed, 
“we have been robbed,—we—first-class thieves,—and 
we know not when it was. Ah, it was at that cafe, 
as we came out. Well done, too. Not a sou. Weep, 
Toto; we are broken.” 
He lost no more time in lamentation, but climbed THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
281 
the tree, looked over, came down, pulled up the dog, 
and descended on the farther side of the wall. 
He was now in a small garden. Near him, and 
close to the wall, was a little plant-house. On the 
farther side of a grassy space stood a hotel of moder- 
ate size, with the front court, as he presumed, opening 
on the Rue de Seine. On each side, as he saw clearly, 
for the night was bright and the moon rising, there 
were high flanking walls. After assuring himself that 
the house was empty, Francois found a trellis covered 
with old vines, and, climbin g this, entered the hotel by 
a convenient balcony. He was safe for the night, and 
at leisure to explore his new dwelling. He feared to 
strike a light, but he could see dimly that there were 
pictures, books, china. Evidently this had been the 
home of people of wealth. As the moon rose higher, 
he saw still better, and began to realize the fact that 
here were evidences of hasty flight. In a room on the 
second floor was a secretary, and this Francois readily 
opened. 
“Toto,” he said, “we are rich again.” He had 
found forty louis in a canvas bag which comfortably 
fitted his side pocket. In the larder he came upon 
meat, cooked and uncooked, mostly unfit for use, stale 
bread, and cheese. Once satisfied, he went over the 
house, and then the garden, taking pains at last to 
set a ladder against the wall of the Rochefoucauld 
property. 
The glass-house was in disorder, the plants lying 
about, uncared for. His foot struck an iron ring at- 
tached to a trap-door. There were staples for pad- 
locking it, but no padlock. He concluded this to be 282 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
the opening to a wine-cave or -cellar, and lifted the 
trap. It was dark below. He ventured down the 
steps a little way, and then stood still to listen. Hear- 
ing noises below him, he retreated in haste. He was, 
as has been said, superstitions. 
“That is strange! We will look about when it 
is day, Toto—not now.” 
Concluding to sleep out of doors, he accordingly 
arranged for his comfort by taking a pillow and 
blankets from the house; for now he had opened a 
door below, and was in full possession. Suites of 
apartments which he dared not use for sleep, and a 
pretty little library, overlooked the small estate of the 
garden. 
No occupied dwelling was in view. Great trees in 
the grounds of La Rochefoucauld and Ste. Luce par- 
tially hid the houses, and, what was of more moment, 
shut off the sight of Francois’s refuge. It was, of 
course, possible that at any time he might be dis- 
turbed by the coming of the officers, or, what was to 
be feared less, that of the owners. But he was not 
a man to be continually anxious. The outer front 
door had a bar, and this he dropped into its socket. 
The side walls were high. He could hear any one 
who attempted to enter. His way out at the back 
was made easy by the ladder he had set in place. At 
dusk he began to be fully at ease, and after a day or 
two was hardly less so in the sun-lit hours. 
On the morning of the third day, much at home, 
he sat behind the little plant-house, with Toto at his 
feet, and a book in his hand, for in the library he 
found several which excited his interest. Now he THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
283 
was deep in a French translation of the travels of 
Marco Polo. Suddenly he heard a noise of steps. 
He fell hack, caught Toto with a warning grasp on 
the jaw, and lay still. He was so hidden in the nar- 
row space between the plant-house and the wall of 
the garden as to be for the time secure. No longer 
hearing anything alarming, he rose and looked cau- 
tiously through the double glass and the sheltering 
plants which were between himself and the mansion. 
In a few minutes a tall man came out of the plant- 
house, went into the dwelling, and by and by returning 
with blankets and a basket, passed into the plant- 
house, and was lost to sight. He soon came out 
again with a lad, and after several such journeys to 
the main house, whence each time he fetched some- 
thing, they reentered the plant-house, and came forth 
no more. 
This incident greatly amazed the thief. “ Toto,” he 
said, “ there must be a trap below! 'T is a lower 
cellar it leads to, and there are people beneath. Helas, 
Toto! no sooner are we gentlemen with an estate 
than, presto! a change, and it is get up and go. It 
were better we took to the woods and saw far countries, 
like this M. Polo.” Toto regarded his master with 
attentive eyes, the long black tail wagging. He seemed 
to comprehend Francois’s difficulties, or at least to feel 
some vague desire to help and comfort. 
“Yes, yes; it is time we settled down, mon ami. 
Behold, we get a little money and wherewithal to 
live; we hurt no one; we cultivate our minds with 
travel; we start fresh, and are honest, having enough, 
•—which is a good foundation for honesty,—and then 284 
THE AD VENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
—eh Men! my friend; let us laugh”; and he lay on 
his hack, and tumbled the dog about. 
He was in the garden, near to the dwelling, a day 
later, when he heard noises as of steps in the La 
Rochefoucauld grounds. He climbed the ladder, and, 
without showing himself, listened. There were voices, 
and now and then he caught a phrase. These were 
municipal guards. He beckoned to Toto, and, cross- 
ing the garden, entered the house, meaning to watch 
his new neighbors from a window 
He went up-stairs to the third story under the roof. 
As he moved toward a window, he heard a sound 
below. He ran down the stair, and stood on the 
lower landing-place, facing the front door. “We are 
gone, Toto! ” For once he was at a loss, and stood 
still, in doubt what to do. 
There were voices outside. The hall door had been 
unlocked, but the bar held it fast. After a minute or 
two they seemed to have given up the idea of enter- 
ing. Francois waited a few minutes, and began to 
descend the stairs. Then he heard quick footfalls in 
the room to the left on the level of the landing above 
him. Some one must have entered by a window on 
the second floor. He turned, perplexed, instinctively 
drew his useless pistol, and began to go faster. Sud- 
denly the steps above him quickened. 
A man on the staircase landing behind him cried: 
“ Halloo ! Surrender, in the name of the republic! ” 
Francois jumped, taking the stairs below him in one 
leap, but, tripping over Toto, fell headlong in the hall. 
The dog sprang after him, and alighted on his master’s 
back. A pistol-shot rang out. The dog fell dead with a THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
285 
ball in his brain. Francois was on his feet. He cast a 
glance at the faithful friend of many a day. His own 
long, strange face became like that of a madman. 
He dashed up the stair, a second ball missing him 
narrowly. Through the smoke he bounded on his 
enemy. He caught the man by the right arm, wrested 
the pistol from him, and, scarce feeling a blow from 
the fellow’s left hand, struck him full in the face with 
the butt of the pistol. The blood flew, and the man 
staggered, screaming. A second blow and a third fell. 
Twisting his victim around, Francois hurled him down 
the stair. 
“ Beast! ” he cried; and, leaping over him, stooped 
a moment, kissed the quivering little body of his friend, 
and, with tears streaming from his eyes, stood still. 
Loud cries from beyond the wall of the garden recalled 
his energies. The noise at the door was heard again. 
He ran out and across into the plant-house, pulled 
up the trap, and, descending, closed it. Then he stood 
puzzled. It was dark; he could see nothing. He fell 
on his knees, and began hastily to grope about until 
he felt an iron ring attached to the trap-door of what 
he presumed to be the entrance to a yet lower cellar. 
u It is this or death,” he muttered under his breath, 
and stood reflecting, having heard no sounds ap- 
proaching overhead. Thinking it better to see and 
be seen by those below, he struck his flint on the steel, 
and, with the aid of a morsel of paper and his kindling 
breath, soon had a light. Then he saw near by a 
lantern with a candle within it. He lighted it, and held 
it in one hand. This done, he knelt again, and with 
a quick movement set open the trap-doorway. What 286 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
lie saw was a man and the muzzle of a pistol. The 
man cried out: “ If you move, you are dead! ” 
“I am not a municipal, monsieur. I am only a 
thief. Let me come down, for God’s sake! I am 
flying from those rascals who are in the house.” 
“ I have half a mind to blow your brains out.” 
“ del! I hope you will not have a whole mind. It 
would only call those scoundrels. I stole a little from 
the house—I return it”; and he dropped the bag of 
louis. It fell on the head of a small boy below, unseen 
in the gloom. He howled lustily. 
“ Diantre! keep quiet! ” cried the man. 
“Oh, let him come down, duke; he is welcome.” 
It was the voice of a woman out of the deep darkness. 
Tender and clear it was. 
“ Be quick, then, rascal! Down with you.” 
The thief waited for no second invitation. The 
duke descended; Francois’s long legs came after. He 
paused to arrange some loose staves, that, in falling, 
they might conceal the trap. Then he blew out the 
candle, and was in total darkness, but where or with 
whom he knew not. 
“ Have a care how you move,” said the voice of the 
woman. “We are in great peril. Come down 
quietly.” 
“ May all the saints bless you ! ” said Francois, and 
sat down on the lower step. For a while all was 
still. XXIV 
Of how Frangois got into good society underground—Of 
what he saw, and of the value of a cat’s eyes—From 
darkness to light— Of hoiv Frangois made friends for 
life. 
Mwas dark indeed; I had never imagined 
suck darkness,” says Francois in kis 
memoirs.1 He adds tkat ke kas keard 
tke story of tkis wonderful escape from 
tke catacombs told over and over ky 
M. des Illes. He does not consider tkat it did kirn 
(Francois), tke principal person, sufficient justice. He 
kad also keard tke old Duke Pkilippe relate tke matter, 
and it was incredible kow crooked ke got it. But, tken, 
Duke Pkilippe was a man wko kad no sense of kumor. 
As to kis dear Mme. des Illes, wken ske did tell tkis 
story, tke baby was the chief hero. Duke Henri,— 
tkat is, tke present man,—although only a lad wken 
these events took place, remembered them well. 
“ When ke was seventeen,” says Francois, u we used 
to fence together. I have often heard him relate to 
tke other young fellows kow we made our escape; but 
Duke Henri kas too muck imagination, and that, you 
see, makes a man inaccurate. I knew two very ac- 
1 See Epilogue. 
287 288 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
complished thieves who were inaccurate. I am not. 
Duke Henri’s tale got stronger, like wine, as time 
went on. The rats grew to he of the size of cats; 
three of them pulled the baby out of madame’s lap. 
And as to the people we killed, it would have satisfied 
M. Dumas, who is the greatest and most correct of 
such as write history.” 
The present author grieves that he has not the 
narration of this famous escape at the hands of Mme. 
des Illes and the two dukes, father and son. Those 
who have found leisure to read “ A Little More Bur- 
gundy” have heard Des Illes’s narrative as M. des 
Illes related it. Those who have not read that ren- 
dering may incline to hear Francois’s own statement 
of what happened after he thus found himself in 
darkness with people he had never seen. I have 
followed his memoir pretty closely. It tells some 
things of which the other people concerned did not 
know. Evidently he considered it a less tragic affair 
than did they. It has been needful to condense 
Francois’s account, and to do this especially where 
he speaks of his own intermediate adventures, which 
were singular enough. 
When, as I have said, Francois, obeying Duke 
Philippe, put out his lantern, he sat still awhile, and 
said nothing. Like the rest, he was fearful lest the 
officers he had disturbed so rudely should make a 
too effective search. Their inspection of the upper 
cellar would be perilous enough. The anxious people 
beneath held their breaths when a man overhead 
stumbled across the staves the thief had set to fall 
on the trap-door. After a while all noises faded THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
289 
away, and in tho evening the duke proposed to rec- 
onnoiter once more; but when he tried to lift the trap, 
it was found impossible to do so. The municipals, in 
their examination, must have rolled a full barrel of 
wine upon the door. This discovery was, or seemed, 
an overwhelming calamity. 
Francois during the day came to understand that 
here in the darkness were Duke Philippe de St. Maur, 
his son Henri, a lad, another rather older boy, Des 
Illes, Mme. des Illes, and the baby, who made him- 
self terribly well known by occasional protests in the 
tongue of babyhood. As the thief became accustomed 
to the gloom and the company, his usual cheeriness 
returned; and when they could not open the trap he 
began to propose all manner of schemes. He would 
bore a hole and let out the wine, and so lighten the 
barrel. He would shoot a ball through the trap and 
the barrel, and thus let out the weight of wine. The 
duke, who never lost respect for his own dignity, was 
disgusted, and would listen to none of his counsels. 
Toward bedtime the baby began to wail dismally; 
the boys sobbed; and Mme. des Illes cried out to them 
that they should be ashamed to complain, and then, 
by way of comment, herself burst into tears; while 
the duke stumbled about, and swore under his breath. 
This was all very astonishing to Francois, who had 
seen little of any world but his own, and to whom 
calamity served only as a hint to consider some way 
to escape its effects. He remained silent for a while, 
after the duke had let him plainly understand that he 
was a fool and had better hold his tongue. This 
lasted for a half-hour, during which he sat still, think- 290 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
mg, with full eyes, of his dead dog. By degrees the 
children grew quiet, and the baby, having exhausted 
his vocabulary and himself, fell asleep. Then the 
duke said irritably: 
“Why the deuce don’t you do something, Master 
Thief ? If you can get into places where you do not 
belong, why cannot you get out of this abominable 
box ? ” 
Francois laughed. “ Get out I would, and gladly; 
but how? We might wait, monsieur, till they drink 
up the wine, or until it dries up, or—” But here the 
boys laughed, and even the duke forgot himself, and 
said Francois was a merry fellow. Indeed, he was of 
use to them all; for, soon becoming at ease, he regaled 
the boys with his adventures; but how many he in- 
vented I do not know. Some were queer, and some 
silly; but all tales are good in the dark, for then what 
can one do but attend ? 
After a while, all being still, Francois lighted his lan- 
tern, on which Duke Philippe said: “ Put out that light; 
we have too few candles as it is; and keep quiet. You 
are prowling about like a cat on the tiles, and twice 
you have stumbled over my legs.” 
“ But I have twice said I was sorry,” said Francois, 
getting tired of this duke with an uncertain temper, 
who repeated: “ Put out that light, and sit down.3 
Then madame spoke: “ He may have a reason to 
want to see and to move about.” 
“’T is so,” said Francois. “If I walk, my wits 
walk; if I sit, they go to sleep; and as to cats, 
madame, I am a street cat”; and, thinking of Suz- 
anne, he laughed. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
291 
“ Ah, confound your laughing! ” The duke felt 
that to laugh at a joke he did not share was, to say 
the least, disrespectful. “ What is there to laugh at ? ” 
Francois, who had been moving as he spoke, was 
suddenly elated. He said it was Suzanne he was 
thinking of; and when madame would know if she 
were his wife, the duke was silent out of lack of in- 
terest for low company, and Francois began to tell 
about the elders and the Hebrew maid, and of the 
Amalekites who lived on the next roof. The boys 
were charmed, and madame said, “ Fie! fie! ” but it 
served to amuse. An hour later he began to move 
about restlessly, and at last cried out, from the far end 
of the cellar: 
“ This way, monsieur; what is this ? A candle—and 
quick! ” When they all came to see, he rolled aside 
an empty cask, and showed a heavy planking. He 
seized the decayed timbers and tore them away, so 
that as they fell a black gap was to be seen. The 
air blew in, cool and damp. 
“ Mon Dieu! ’t is the catacombs. My husband’s 
grandfather cut off this end for a wine-cave. It is 
strange I should have quite forgotten it.” 
“But what then?” said the duke. “It is only a 
grave you have opened. You might as well have 
kept quiet.” 
The thief’s feelings were hurt; he began to care 
less and less for this useless nobleman. 
Madame said thoughtfully: “It may be a way out 
If it come to the worst, we can but try it.” 
“ Madame is right; and as to keeping quiet, I never 
could. Sleeping cats catch no rats.” He believed in 292 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
his luck. “We shall get out,” he said, with cool assur- 
ance. “1 always do. I have been in many scrapes. 
I got out of the Madelonnettes, and I was once near 
to decorating a rope.” 
“ A rope! ” exclaimed madame. 
“ Yes. Parblea! I wear my cravat loose ever since. 
I like to have full swing, but not in that way.” He 
was gay and talkative. The boys liked it; but not so 
the duke, who said : 
“Well, what next?” 
“We must explore. I will enter and see a little.” 
“But,” said the woman, “you will get lost; and 
then, what to do ? ” She had come to trust the thief. 
He saw this, and liked it. “If we lose you, what 
shall we do ?—what shall we do ? ” 
The thief turned to her as he stood, lantern in hand. 
He was grave. “ Madame, I am a poor thief of the 
streets; I have had to live as I could; and since I was 
a boy I can count the kind words ever said to me by 
man or woman. I shall not forget.” 
Madame was moved, and said they werer all alike 
come upon evil days, and that perhaps now he would 
turn from his wicked ways. 
Poor Francois was not quite clear as to his ways 
having been wicked. 
“Well, if you are going,” said the duke, “you had 
better be about it.” 
It was then young Des Illes said he must have a 
string, like people who went into caves, else he might 
never find his way back. The thief thought it a fine 
idea; and here was madame’s big ball of knitting- 
wool. With no more delay, he took it, and leaving THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
293 
an end in Des Illes’s hand, boldly walked away 
into the darkness with his lantern, and was soon lost 
to view. 
When he came back to this anxious company, he 
had to report such a tangle of passages as caused him 
to say that to try to escape through these must be a 
last resort. He thought they might live on the rats 
if provisions gave out, but they must eat them raw. 
“ Helas! what a fate! ” said madame. 
The little Duke Henri spoke eagerly, and said the 
Chinese ate rats. 
“ But not raw,” cried the young Des Illes, which set 
them all to laughing. 
Soon again they were quiet, because talk in the dark 
does not prosper. A little later madame called softly 
to the thief to sit by her, and would hear of his life. 
Frangois related his exploits with pride. She made no 
comment, but said at last: u Your name, my friend ? ” 
And when he replied, “ Frangois,” she declared that 
he was no more to be any one’s thief, but always Fran- 
gois; and this was a hint to the duke, who took it in 
silence, and was evidently depressed. 
After this, madame bade the boys say their prayers; 
and soon all were asleep, except Frangois, who sat 
against a cask, and saw Toto’s brown eyes in the 
darkness. 
At last the morrow came. The provisions were 
shared, and, as usual with Frangois, his spirits rose 
as he filled his stomach. He held the baby, and was 
queerly interested in this mystery of unwinking eyes. 
Might he give it of the bottle ? He satisfied the child, 
who seemed fearless of that long, good-humored face. 294 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Might he hold it longer ? It would relieve madame. 
He sang low to it a queer thief-song, and then another 
none there could understand. 
“ del! ” said the duke, who had slept off his splenetic 
mood; “ you have a fine voice.” 
“ Ah, would it were a hymn,” said madame, “ or a 
psalm of Clement Marot! ” 
“ I know no hymns,” said Francois, “ but only some 
old choir chants.” 
Upon this he began to sing, low and sweet, one of 
the old Latin songs: 
Salve, mundi salutare, 
Salve, salve, Jesu eare! 
Cruci tuEe me aptare 
Yellem vere, tu scis quare, 
Da mihi tui eapiam. 
The rich voice which in his boyhood days had soared 
like a lark up among the arches of Notre Dame had 
come again. He heard himself with wonder and with 
sad thoughts of the chances his boyish haste had for- 
ever lost for him. 
“ And you a thief! ” cried madame. “ Where— 
where did you learn—” 
But at this moment noises overhead put an end to 
all but listening. At last Francois said: “They 
move the casks. It were well to take to the caves.” 
And this was hastily agreed to, when, of a sudden, 
the noises ceased. 
Francois still urged instant flight; but the duke 
said, “No; we must wait,” and gave no reasons. The 
thief did not agree, but held his tongue, as Mme. des THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
295 
Illes said nothing, and since, after all, this was a 
duke. 
An hour later he started up. “By Heaven, they 
are at the trap! ” 
The duke was no coward. He ran up the steps, 
pistol in hand, and gave his second weapon to Fran- 
cois, who stood below. The trap was cast wide open, 
and a big municipal was seen stooping over the open 
space; for beyond him the cellar was well lighted up. 
The duke fired without an instant’s indecision. 
“ By St. Denis! ’t is a man, this duke,” cried Fran- 
cois, as the officer pitched head down into the cave. 
The thief set a foot on him as he lay, and reached up 
the second pistol to the duke, while young Des Illes, 
too curious for fear, crawled up the broad stone stairs 
to see. The thief heard a second shot, and followed 
the lad. There were several candles set on casks, and 
through the smoke he saw a municipal in a heap at 
the far end of the upper cellar. He was groaning 
piteously. 
“ Load again, monsieur,” cried Francois. “ Quick! 
there may be more.” He himself went past the duke, 
and young Des Illes after him. He turned the officer 
over. 
“ He is not dead,” he said. “ Best to finish him.” 
But here was madame at his side, saying: “No, 
no! No more—I will not have it. Mon Dieu! it is 
bad enough. I will have no murder.” 
“ Then let us go back; he is as good as dead.” 
“ Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! ” cried the woman; and so 
in haste the upper trap was closed, and all went again 
down to the cave. 296 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
The officer below was dead, -with a ball through his 
head. Mother and children huddled away in the far 
corner, scared. The duke said: 
“ What now must we do ? ” 
“We must go, and at once,” said Francois. “ They 
will soon come back, and then—” 
“Yes, yes,” cried madame; “you are right. You 
were right; we should have gone before, and saved 
all this bloodshed.” 
The duke made no comment, except to mutter, “ I 
suppose so ”; and at once began to assist Francois’s 
preparations for flight. 
And now the thief’s readiness and efficiency were 
shown. He arranged every one’s loads, filled baskets, 
laughed over a shoulder at the boys as he strapped 
blankets on the duke, and at last loaded himself with 
all that was left. They took the arms of the dead 
man, and soon trooped out into the darkness. The 
duke, who at once went on ahead, carried a lantern. 
At the first turn, Francois called out to wait, and 
ran back. The duke swore. He was now eager to 
go on, and declared that the thief would deliver them 
up, and save his own head. But madame was of 
other mind, and so they stood expectant. At last 
came Francois, laughing. 
“Ah, monsieur, this comes of honest company. I 
forgot the bag of gold. And these—these are price- 
less. I have the fellow’s clothes. When a man does 
not resist, the temptation is great; neither did he 
assist.” 
“ Stop that talk, and come on. Are we going to 
set up a shop for old clothes ? ” THE ADVENTURES OP FRANCOIS 
297 
Francois fell behind. 11 The dnke would make a 
poor thief,” he said to the boys. Young Henri de St. 
Maur said: “ You are insolent. My father a thief! ” 
“ Tiens! There are times when to steal is virtue. 
Allons done!” and he strode on, laughing, and telling 
the boys stories. 
There were many little incidents that day, but the 
worst was at evening, when they found a great cave, 
lofty and wide, where had been cast, long before, the 
bones out of the overfilled cemeteries. Here it was 
that skulls fell from the great heap, and rolled away 
on every side into the darkness, while the rats ran 
out in armies. The thief was of all the most alarmed, 
and stood still, saying paternosters and aves by the 
dozen. After this they went on aimlessly, now and 
then hearing overhead the roar and rumble of wagons. 
Their nights proved to be full of sore trials. The rats 
assembled, and grew bolder. One bit the baby, who 
cried until the thief lighted a candle and watched 
while the rest slept, or tried to do so. 
The dismalness of these underground labyrinths 
was such as no man could imagine. One day they 
walked a half-mile through a wet cave-passage so 
narrow that two persons could not move abreast. It 
ended in a blank wall, and they were forced to go 
back, over shoe-top in water. Or, again, they went 
up rude stairs, stumbling, but hopeful, only to descend 
once more into the depths of the earth. Now and 
then a putrid rain fell on them, and at every turn the 
rats fled by them, now one and now a scurry of 
countless troops. Twice a mass of rock fell in some 
distant passage, and strange echoes reverberated in 298 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
cavern spaces, so that the boys cried out in terror, and 
even Francois shivered at the thought of how they 
might be buried alive by one of these downfalls. Each 
sad day of weariness had its incident of terror or dis- 
appointment; and still, with lessening hope, they 
trailed on after the dim light which the duke carried 
as he led them—none knew whither. Each morning 
they rose cold, wet, and unrefreshed, ate of their 
lessening food, and after some little talk as to how 
this day they should keep turning to left or to right, 
set out anew, the duke still in advance, with an ever- 
changing mind as to where they were or what they 
should do. As day followed day, their halts became 
more frequent. They lingered where the dripping 
rain from the sewage of the great city overhead was 
least; or at times paused suddenly to listen to mys- 
terious sounds, or to let the rats go by them, splashing 
in the noisome puddles underfoot. The night was as 
the day, the day as the night. They had no way to 
tell the one from the other, except by the duke’s 
watch. 
So confusing was this monotonous tramp under- 
ground, the days so much alike, that at last these sad 
people became bewildered as to how long they had 
wandered. Their food was becoming less and less, 
and on the evening of the fifth day the duke and 
Francois knew that very soon their stock of candles 
would be exhausted. These had, in fact, been of small 
use, except to keep the scared children more cheerful 
when night came on and the rats grew bold. 
This evening of the fifth day, and earlier than usual, 
Mme. des Hies declared of a sudden that she could THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
299 
go no farther, and must rest for the night. The duke 
had a new plan, and urged her to go on. She cried 
over the baby on her lap, and made no answer. They 
sat down to pass another night of discomfort. After a 
little talk with the boys, Francois drew apart from the 
rest, and began to think over the wanderings of the 
day. Their situation this evening was somewhat better 
than it had usually been, for they sat in a dry end of 
one of the many excavations, and did not feel the 
cold, moist winds which howled along these stony 
caves, carrying a changeful variety of unwholesome 
stenches. A silent hour went by in utter darkness. 
At times Francois rose to drive away adventurous 
rats. At last he lighted a candle, and set it at the 
open end of the cul-de-sac. When he saw that the 
rats would not pass the lantern, he whispered to 
madame of this, and that he meant to explore a little, 
and bade her have no fear. The duke had thus far 
had his own way, and it had not been to Francois’s 
taste. He took a second lantern, and moved off around 
a corner, resolute to find a means of escape. The duke 
ordered him to return and to put out the candle. 
Francois made no reply. He counted the turns as he 
went on, and listened for the noise of vehicles above 
him. 
“ A pretty duke, that! ” he said. “ I should have 
made as good a one. I like better that devil of a mar- 
quis ; but diantre! neither is much afraid—nor I, for 
that matter.” 
Sometimes he turned back, at others went on boldly, 
noting whence blew any current of warmer air. At 
last he came upon an enormous excavation. In the 300 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
middle was a mass of partly tumbled stone, laid in 
courses. This broken heap was large, and irregularly 
conical. He moved around it in wonder, having seen 
nothing like it in his explorations. He turned the 
yellow and feeble lantern-light upon the heap, and at 
first concluded that the old makers of these quarries 
had here built for themselves a house, which had fallen 
to ruin. 
But where was he, and what part of Paris was over 
his head ? He remembered at last to have heard that 
these catacombs were once used as receptacles for the 
dead, in order to relieve the overpeopled graveyards. 
Had he been less alarmed, he might have guessed 
where he was when they came upon the bones; for 
that must have been near to the cemetery of the 
Church of the Innocents. But while the duke had 
led, Francois had taken less than his usual active 
notice, and had been content to follow. Here, now, 
was a new landmark. This before him could be no 
dwelling of quarriers, but must be a house fallen into 
the great cave. He had heard of such happenings. 
To be certain where and on what street so strange a 
thing had occurred would afford knowledge as to the 
part of Paris under which he stood. He would ask 
the duke; he might know. Thus reflecting, he began 
to walk around the tumbled mass. A vast amount of 
earth must have come down with it. He pried here 
and there, and at last found a gap in the ruin, and 
crawled in between fallen timbers until he could stand 
up. On one side was a wall and a wide chimney-place, 
and on the top of this wall the great beams of the 
ceiling still rested. Their farther ends lay on what THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
301 
seemed the wreck of the opposite wall, thus leaving a 
triangular space filled in at each side by broken stone. 
Amid this were the crushed steps of a staircase, quite 
blocked up. The lantern gave little light. Only close 
to the fireplace could the tall thief stand erect. He 
turned his lantern, and cried out: 
“Ye saints!” Close beside him were the remains 
of a high-backed chair, and on these, and beside them, 
portions of the bones of a man. Two great jack-boots 
lay beside him, gnawed by rats. His skull was broken, 
and lay where the eager animals had dragged it. 
Few could have stood here alone, and not felt its 
terror and its mystery. Francois stood a moment, 
appalled, and unable to think or to observe. At last 
he began to study the place with care and increasing 
interest. A rusty sword, sheathed, was caught in the 
arm of the ruined chair. Here and there lay bits of 
gold lace. He picked up the rusted clasp of a purse, 
gnawed by the rats. Near it lay scattered a number 
of gold and silver coins, a rosary, and a small ring set 
with red stones. He put them all in his pocket. There 
was scarce a remnant of the man’s dress. 
Francois looked at the tumbled bones. “ Mon 
Dieu! ” said he; “ am I like that f ” and turned to see 
what else was here. On the lowest stair was a glint 
of yellow—a cross of gold. “ Good luck ! ” he cried. 
On the hearth was a copper kettle, green with rust. 
Soon he began to see better, and at last found a frag- 
ment of wood less damp than the rest of the floor and 
what lay upon it; for a steady, slow, irregular rain 
fell in drops, with dull patter here and there. He 
shaved off some slivers of the wood, and, getting at 302 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
the drier inside, soon, with paper from his pouch, made 
a fire on the stone pavement. Presently he had a 
bright little blaze, and in the brilliant glow began to 
shed his terror. He found other wood, and nourished 
the flame. But when he saw that the fragments were 
from the end of a crushed cradle, he ceased to use 
them; because here were little bones lying scattered, 
and the man guessed at the extent of the tragedy, and 
was strangely stirred. He moved to and fro in the 
tent-like space in awe and wonder, in thought recon- 
structing the house, and seeming to share in the 
horror of its story. 
Before leaving, he looked again at the overturned 
chair, the stones lying about it, and the moldering 
remains of the man. He must have been asleep, and 
died instantly when the house fell into the great cave. 
There was no more to be seen. a God rest his soul! ” 
said the thief, and crawled backward out of the tangle 
of broken beams and stones. 
In a few minutes he was again with those he had 
left, and, saying only, “’T is well, madame; we shall 
get out,” fell into a peaceful sleep. 
The next day every one dragged on wearily, the duke 
still leading, and Francois hoping that he would be 
asked advice. The water rained on them a noisome 
downfall, the rats came out in hordes; and still Fran- 
cois cheered his companions, now carrying the baby, 
and now encouraging the tired boys. 
I have not given in full detail all the miseries of 
these weary days and sorrowful nights. They have 
been more fully told elsewhere by one who felt them 
as more serious than did Francois, whose narrative I THE ADVENTUEES OF FEANgOIS 
303 
now am following. These unhappy victims of the 
Terror had been altogether six days in the cave, but 
Francois not so long. By this time their spirit was 
quite broken. The thief alone remained gay, hopeful, 
and even confident, but saw clearly enough that these 
people, used to easy lives, could not endure much 
longer the strain of this unguided wandering in the 
dark and somber alleys of this horrible labyrinth of 
darkness and foul odors. The duke seemed also to 
be of a like mind, for on the morning of the seventh 
day he awakened Francois at six, and, of a sudden 
grown sadly familiar, whispered low to him: 
“Is there any hope? Madame and the boys are 
failing. Soon we shall have to carry them.” 
“We shall get out,” said Francois. 
“But how? how? Why to-day any more than 
yesterday ? Do you think of any way to help us ? ” 
“ If monsieur will permit me to lead—” 
“ Good! Why did you not say so before ? ” 
Francois made no direct reply, but asked: “Did 
ever a house fall into these quarry-caves ? ” 
“A house? Why do you ask? Yes; it was long 
ago. The house of the lieutenant of the guard it was. 
I do not recall the date. A house in the Rue des 
Peches.” 
“ Will this help to know when it was ? ” and Fran- 
cois showed his coins and told his story. 
“ Yes, yes; I see. How wonderful! These are of 
the time of Francis I.” 
“ Rue des Peches ? ” 
“ Yes; it is now the Rue des Bon Secours. It is 
close to the Asile des Innocents.” 304 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
“ Dieu! monsieur, then I know. I think we may 
get out to-day; but it may be well not yet to tell 
madame. I think we are still near to the fallen 
house.” 
“ Then you shall lead,” said the duke. “ Tiens! a 
queer fellow, this thief,” he muttered, and went to 
waken the sleeping children. No word was said as 
to the house of the lieutenant of the guard, but Fran- 
cois refreshed the tired party by promising a speedy 
glimpse of day. For, now that the candles were few, 
they thought more of this than of the perils which 
the daylight might bring. 
The thief led, and all day long they went on and 
on. Once he was quite dismayed to find that he had 
lost his way, and once came to the very entrance of 
the cave he had left the night before. The duke again 
became querulous and dissatisfied; but Francois only 
laughed, and, resolutely concealing his mistake, re- 
traced his steps. It was near to seven o’clock in the 
evening of July 28 when the thief bade them rest, 
and he would be back soon. The duke said some- 
thing cross; but Francois made no reply, and, turning 
a corner, lost sight of his party. He took careful 
note of the turns and windings of this maze, and now 
and then found himself in a blind alley, and must of 
need turn back. At the far end of one of these recesses 
he saw in the gloom two great, green, phosphorescent 
eyes. Like mighty jewels they were, set in the dark- 
ness. They were soon lost to view, and came and 
went. “ They are cats,” he murmured; “ and what a 
hunting estate they have ! Ye saints ! if I had here 
my poor Toto ! ” He began to move toward these eyes, THE ADVENTURES OF FRANQOIS 
305 
which shot hack the light his lantern gave. There were 
three sets of the pale-green jewels, and now their 
owners were manceuvering to escape. He began to 
use caressing cat-talk, such as had won the heart of 
Suzanne, and, falling on his knees, crept closer. Then 
there was a quick rush past him of his feline game; 
but one cat was indecisive, and he had her by the leg. 
He paid well for his audacity, but held on, and pretty 
soon began to exercise the curious control he had over 
all animals. At last pussy lay still and panting. 
When the scared animal grew quiet, he set her down. 
For a moment she hesitated, and then began to move 
away. As he followed she ran. He cast the lantern- 
light before her, and pursued her with all speed. 
Once or twice she was nearly lost to view. Then she 
turned a corner, and another, and of a sudden fled 
toward a distant archway, through which he saw the 
light of day. A great rush of warm air went by him. 
He stood still, murmuring aves. To his surprise, he 
was near to the place where he had left his com- 
panions. He stood a moment in deep thought. “We 
are out at last,” he murmured. u But del! there is 
much to think about. We may have too much light.” 
He went back and told of the discovery, but of the 
cat not a word. The duke said: “ I thought we should 
soon get out; come, let us be off.” 
Madame said gently: u Let us kneel before we go, 
and thank the good God for this friend he sent us in 
our trouble.” Then they all knelt, and she prayed, 
speaking her thankfulness to Heaven, with at the end 
a word as to her husband, and also asking God’s mercy 
for him who had led them forth out of darkness into 306 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
light. When Francois heard her, he was disturbed as 
he had never been in all his days. When a man like 
Francois sheds tears, it is a great event in his life. 
He rose from his knees, and asked the duke and the 
rest to go with him; and thus it was that in a few 
minutes they stood fifty feet from an open archway, 
through which came the level light from the western 
sky. 
The duke was moved at last to say how clever 
Francois had been; and how had he managed it? 
The thief declared it had been easy; but the cat got 
no credit, and never was praised, then or ever, for her 
share of their escape. Set in this rocky frame before 
them was a picture as it were of a disused quarry, 
and beyond it vineyards, with yet farther a red-tiled 
housetop. Here it was, as they paused, that madame 
said solemnly, with tears in her eyes: 
“L God said, Let there be light: and there was light. 
And God saw the light, that it was good.’ ” 
After the duke and Francois had peeped out, and 
seen no one, the duke began to set forth a variety of 
schemes as to what they should do. None of these 
was very wise, and at last madame turned to Francois. 
He had disappeared, but presently came again, dressed 
in the clothes of the dead officer. He wore his sword 
and pistols, and now, as seen clearly in the light of 
day, was certainly a queer enough figure. The gar- 
ments were too short below and too wide above, and 
over them rose the long face, the broad mouth, and 
the huge ears. The boys, who looked on their troubles 
as at an end, set up a shout of laughter. 
“ The deuce! I shall arrest you, citizens,” cried THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
307 
Francois. “ And first, monsieur.” He explained that 
he proposed to tie the duke’s hands behind his back, 
and with, as was usual, one end of the rope in his 
hand, would conduct the ci-devant into Paris by the 
Barriere d’Enfer. The weeping widow would follow, 
with the two children, to see the last of their poor 
papa. 
The duke was disgusted, but pretended to be much 
amused. “Well, it is a pretty comedy,” he said, as 
Mme. des Illes insisted. 
“ Dame! ” said the thief, “ but the tragedy is not far 
away.” 
“ And what is to come after ? ” said she. “ Had we 
not better wait till night ? ” 
“ No. The guards are doubled at night. It is bold- 
ness which will win.” 
“ And what then, Francois ? ” 
“ I must find for you a refuge while I go to see if 
M. des Illes may not have returned; for, inadame, you 
have assured me that he would be released. Pray 
God it is so. And what better is there ? ” The duke 
was forced to consent. 
A rope found in the officer’s pocket made part of 
Francois’s spoil. He tied the duke’s hands, and 
showed him how, at need, a pull would release them. 
The gold was divided. All else they left. Francois 
reported the way clear, and they set out. But the 
boys giggled so much at the duke and his indignant 
face that Francois paused. 
u Dame! ” he cried, u madame must weep.” She was 
already doing that, her mind on the fate of M. des 
Illes. “ If you boys are fools, and laugh, we are lost. 308 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
Cry, if you can; but, for the love of Heaven, do not 
look about you, or smile. Take a hand of madame— 
so. Cry, if ever you mean to get away safe.” 
The road beyond the quarry was little used, and 
they went on, the duke furious. When they met any 
one, Francois cried: “ Get on, aristocrat! Pig of a 
ci-devant, march ! ” 
Duke Philippe muttered: “ Sacre, thief ! ” and got 
a smart jerk of the rope, and more abuse, until the 
fun of it nearly upset the thief, who could scarce 
contain himself. At the Barriere d’Enfer were but 
two guards; nor were there as many people in the 
streets as usual. 
Suddenly Francois halted at the summons to leave 
his prisoner with one of the two men, and to enter the 
little office and exhibit his papers, as was needful. 
“ Dame! ” muttered the thief, “ one cannot know all 
things. I forgot about the papers.” He showed, 
however, no indecision. “ Guard this wretch, citizen,” 
he said. “ Here, take the rope. He is a returned 
emigreThe man took the rope. “I shall not be 
long.” So saying, he went in after the second guard, 
closing the door behind them. The man sat down 
at a desk, and opened a blank-book, saying: “The 
order, citizen.” 
“I am afraid it is lost,” said Francois, eagerly 
searching his acquired pockets. “ The mischief! 
What to do ? ” 
“ To do ? Thou must wait till the lieutenant comes 
back. He has gone to see the fun.” 
“ Fun ! What fun ? ” 
At this moment the man rose hastily. “ Diable! THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
309 
thou art Francois! I thought I knew thy voice. 
There are orders to arrest thee. Citizen Amar de- 
sires thy society. Best make no fuss. I arrest thee. 
I am in luck. It is sure promotion. What trick art 
thou up to ? And those folks outside, who are they ? ” 
u But thou, an old thief, to arrest a comrade ! Surely 
thou wilt not.” 
“ No use. Come ! no nonsense.” 
Francois put out a pleading hand. “ But they will 
kill me, comrade.” He looked all the alarm needed. 
“ Bah! ” 
In an instant the strongest grip of the Cite was on 
the man’s throat, and closed as a vise closes. A faint 
cry escaped as the man struggled. Francois threw a 
leg hack of the fellow, and as he fell dropped on his 
chest. It was brief. The man’s heels clattered on the 
floor; he was still. The thief rose. The man was to 
appearance dead. He would revive, perhaps. u Peste! ” 
cried Francois, “ it is hard to keep one’s head.” 
Seizing a paper from the table, Francois went out of 
the door, closing it after him, and coolly caressing a 
cat on the step. He said to the guard that his com- 
rade would be out by and by, and that it was all 
right. As he spoke he waved the paper, and, taking 
the rope, went on, crying: “ Get up, ci-devant! ” As 
they got farther away he hurried the duke. u Death 
is behind us. Get on. Faster— faster! ” He twisted 
and turned, and was not at ease until they were deep 
in the sinuous, box-hidden paths of the Luxembourg. 
Very few people were to be seen, and these looked 
at or after them with curiosity. 
“We must be a queer party. Get on, citizen. Thou 310 
THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOIS 
art lazy. Thou wilt soon have a fine carriage.” He 
was terribly anxious. “ Sacre, monsieur! For the 
love of the saints, go on, and quicker! ” 
“ What the deuce is it ? ” said the duke. 
“ That beast at the barrier knew me. He was an 
old thief.” 
“ And what then ? Why were we not stopped if he 
knew you ? ” 
“ He does not know me nor anybody now.” 
“ Foi d’honneur, but you are a brave fellow! ” 
“ Thanks; but make haste.” 
At last they were in the long Rue de Yarennes, 
where they saw a great crowd filling the street, and 
were soon in the midst of a mass of excited people. 
Francois cried out: “ Room, citizens, room! ” 
An old woman shook her fist at him, yelling furi- 
ously : “ Cursed Jacobin ! ” 
The people were wild; and presently a man hustled 
the supposed officer. Others cried fiercely: “Hang 
him ! ” Another screamed out: “ Robespierre is 
dead! ” and the crowd took up the cry. A dozen 
hands seized on Francois. 
“ What the deuce is all this ? ” he shouted. “ Take 
care, or the law will have you.” 
“ Robespierre is dead ! A la lanterne! ” 
Upon this, the duke exclaimed: “ Let him go; it 
is a good fellow, and not an officer ”; and then, amid 
a maddening tumult, succeeded in hastily explaining 
enough to secure the release of the officer. 
“ A has la guillotine! ” cried Francois. “ Down with 
the Terror! ” 
The crowd thickened, and went its way with wild THE ADVENTURES OF FRANgOlS 
311 
cries. Meanwhile the hoy Des Illes was lost, and 
madame in tears. They went on, asking questions, 
and hearing of the execution of Eobespierre, Couthon, 
Saint-Just, and the rest. The thief said: “ Let us go 
straight to M. des Illes’s house.” 
At the door madame fell into her husband’s arms; 
and soon after dusk the boy came running back with 
his father, who had gone out to search for him. 
Then all was hastily made clear, and the long story 
told of Des Illes’s release, and how he had found the 
dog, and in the cave the Jacobins both dead, and of 
his vain efforts to discover his own people. They 
were fed and reclothed; and now, it being ten at night 
of this 10th Thermidor, Francois rose. “ I must go,” 
he said. 
“You? Never!” said madame. “Our house is 
your home for life. You will wander and sin no 
more.” 
On this, Francois looked about him, from one kind 
face to another, and sat down, and broke into tears. 
“ It shall be as madame desires. I am her servant.” 
And this is the end of the adventures of Francois, 
the thief. Let who will j udge him. EPILOGUE 
Wherein is some further account of Francois and of 
those ivho helped him. 
a little book which has found many friend- 
mTB ly readers I related a strange story of the 
HT French Revolution.1 In it was promised 
JHIh some further account of the most remark- 
able of the personages concerned. I 
have now fulfilled my desire to relate the adventures 
of Francois. The singular incidents I record are not 
without foundation. 
In the story above mentioned I have told how I 
chanced to meet Fran<jois and those with whom he 
spent his days after the stormy period during which 
they first came together. My acquaintance with M. 
des Hies and the old Due de St. Maur slowly rip- 
ened into friendship. I was a lonely student in the 
Latin Quarter, and felt deeply the kindness which 
never ceased insisting that their house should be to 
me a home. In the summer, and often after that, I 
was a guest at Des Illes’s chateau in Touraine. There 
I came to know Francois, as one may know a French 
or an Italian servant. During these visits he acted 
1 “ A Madeira Party,” The Century Co., which contains a tale 
called “A Little More Burgundy,” to which the reader is referred. 
312 EPILOGUE 
313 
as my valet, serving me with admirable care, and 
never better pleased than when I invited him to talk 
about himself. He had long since shed his thief-skin, 
but I fear that it was only the influence of fortunate 
circumstances which left him without excuse to be or 
to seem other than as honest as the rest of the world 
about him. 
I have known a great variety of disreputable folk 
in my lifetime, but never one who had so many win- 
ning qualities, or who was so entirely at his ease. A 
scamp in the company of men of better morals usu- 
ally becomes hypocritical or appears awkwardly 
aware of breathing an atmosphere to which he is 
unused. Francois had no such difficulties. For half 
a century he had been for Des Illes something be- 
tween friend and servant. His former life and habits 
were well known to the few who came to his master’s 
house. He was comfortable, with some forty thou- 
sand francs in the rentes, for his old acquaintance, the 
marquis, had not forgotten his services. He had no 
necessity to exercise what he still tranquilly called his 
profession. Like a clever street-dog adopted by a re- 
spectable family, though for a time uneasy, he ceased 
by degrees to wander for the joy of stealing a bone, 
and became contented with the better and less peril- 
ous chances of a dinner at home. 
I learned from M. de St. Maur, the duke’s son, that 
while Mme. des Illes lived Frangois remained the most 
domestic of animals. Her death caused him a grief 
so profound that for a time his master was troubled 
lest his reason might suffer. She herself would never 
hear a word against him. Unlike her husband, she 314 
EPILOGUE 
was a fervent Protestant, and had now and then 
some vain hope of converting Francois. While she 
lived he considered himself her special servant, hut 
after her death transferred his regard to young 
Des Hies, the son. For many months Francis 
pined, as I have said. He then became restless, 
disappeared for a week at a time, and it is to be 
feared that once, or more often, he courted temp- 
tation. When I knew him all this was in a remote 
past. At the chateau he usually came to my bed- 
room an hour before dinner to set out my evening 
dress, and was pretty sure, when this was done, to 
put his head in my little salon and ask if I needed 
anything. Perhaps, like M. des Illes, I might desire 
a petit verre of vermuth for the bettering of appe- 
tite. As I soon found what this meant, I commonly 
required this sustaining aid. When by and by he 
returned, carrying a neat tray with vermuth and 
cognac, it came to be understood that he should be 
led into talk of himself over the little glass, which 
would, I am sure, have paid toll before it got back 
to the buffet. Pretty soon I got into the way -of 
making him sit down, while I drew from by no means 
unwilling lips certain odd stories which much amused 
me. With an English or Irish servant such familiar 
intercourse would have been quite impossible; but 
Francois, who had none of the shyness of other 
races, soon came to be on as easy terms with me 
as he was with M. des Illes. When I asked him one 
evening to tell me his own story of the famous 
escape through the catacombs, he said, “ But it is 
long, monsieur.” When I added, “Well, sit down; EPILOGUE 
315 
I must have it,” he replied simply, “ As monsieur 
wishes,” and, taking a chair, gave me an account of 
their escape, in which he drew so mirthful a picture 
of the duke’s embarrassments that I saw how little 
of the humor of the tale M. des Hies had allowed 
himself to put into his recital. 
Frangois’s long life amid people of unblemished 
character had by no means changed his views. Yes, 
he had been a thief; but now he was out of business. 
He had retired, just as M. des Illes had done, there 
being no longer any cause why he should relieve his 
own necessity by lessening the luxury of others; 
monsieur might feel quite secure. 
As for politics, he was all for the Bonapartes, who, 
he said, were magnificent thieves, whereas he had 
never been able to rise to the very highest level of 
his business. M. des Illes objected, and the last time 
he had indulged himself in a prolonged absence — 
monsieur would comprehend that this was many 
years ago — there had been a serious quarrel; and 
how could he annoy so good a master, even though 
they disagreed as to matters political ? If monsieur 
were still curious as to his life, he had a few pages in 
which he had set down certain things worth remem- 
bering, and would monsieur like to see them ? Mon- 
sieur would very much like to read them. Thus 
came into my possession this astonishing bit of auto- 
biography, which at last I had leave to copy. It was 
oddly written, in a clear hand, and in a quaint and 
abrupt style, from which, in my use of it, I have 
generally departed, but of which I fear some traces 
may yet be seen. 316 
EPILOGUE 
Two evenings later, and before I had found leisure 
to read all of it, Francois said to me, “ Does monsieur 
think to give my poor little account to the world ? ” 
I said I did not. At this I saw his very expressive 
face assume a look which I took to mean some form 
of regret. As he spoke he was standing in the door- 
way, and was now and then mechanically passing a 
brush over my dress-coat. Presently he said: “I 
only desired not to have set forth in France, when I 
am gone, such things as might give concern to M. 
des Illes, or trouble him if he should outlive me.” 
I replied that it should never be published; and 
when, after this, he lingered, I added, “Is that as 
you desire?” It was not. His vanity was simple 
and childlike, but immense. 
“ Monsieur will find it entertaining,” he said; and 
I, that this was sure to be the case, and that it were 
a pity the world should lose so valuable a work. 
At this his lean face lighted up. Perhaps in English 
it might some day be of interest to monsieur’s 
friends; and as he understood that the English were 
given to stealing whole countries belonging to feeble 
folks, it might seem to them less unusual than it 
would to people like those of France. But monsieur 
was not English. He asked my pardon. I kept a 
grave face, and inquired if it were a treatise on the 
art of theft. 
This embarrassed him a little, and he made answer 
indirectly: did monsieur entirely disapprove this 
form of transfer ? He seemed to regard it as merely 
a manner of commercial transaction by which one 
man alone profited. I returned that as to this na- EPILOGUE 
317 
tions held diverse opinions, and that some Oriental 
people considered it a creditable pursuit, but that 
personally it did seem to me wrong. 
M. des Hies was distinctly of that opinion; but, 
after all, his (Francis’s) account of what he had seen 
and been was not limited to mere details of business, 
and I might discover his adventures to have other 
interest. When he heard at last that some day I 
might, through his writings, enlighten the nations 
outside of the pale of Gallic civilization, he went 
away with the satisfied air of a young author who 
has found a publisher with a just appreciation of his 
labors — a thing both rare and consolatory. 
His personal history, as I have said, was well 
known to the entire household; nor did he resent 
a jest now and then as to his disused art, if it came 
from one of a rank above his own. The old duke 
would say, “ Any luck of late in snuff-boxes, 
Francois ? ” 
“ M. le Due knows they are out of fashion.” 
11 Eh Men; then handkerchiefs"?” 
“ Diable ! ” says Francois. “ They are no more of 
lace; what use to steal them ? M. le Due knows that 
gentlemen are also out of fashion. M. le Bourgeois 
is too careful nowadays.” 
“True,” says the duke, and walks away, sadly 
reflective. 
This Francois was what people call a character. 
He had a great heart and no conscience; was fond of 
flowers, of birds, and of children; pleased to chat of 
his pilferings, liking the fun of the astonishment he 
thus caused. Had he really no belief in its being 318 
EPILOGUE 
wrong to steal ? I do not know. The fellow was so 
humorous that he sometimes' left one puzzled and 
uncertain. He went duly to mass and confession, 
but — “ Mon Dieu, monsieur; nowadays one has so 
little to confess, M. le Cure must find it dull.” 
When I would know his true ethics as to thine and 
mine, he cried, laughing, “Le mien et le tien; ’t is but 
a letter makes the difference, and, after all, one must 
live.” It seemed a simple character, but there is no 
such thing; all human nature is more complex than 
they who write choose to think it. If character were 
such as the writer of fiction often makes it, the world 
would be a queer place. 
He is dead long ago, this same as my old 
friend Des Illes wrote me a few years later. He was 
very fond of a parrot he had taught to cry, “ Vive 
Bonaparte! ” whenever the aged duke came by his 
perch. One morning Poll was stolen by some adroit 
purveyor of parrots. This loss Francis felt deeply, 
and vastly resented the theft,— in fact, he described 
himself as being humbled by the power of any one 
to steal from a man bred up to the business,— and so 
missed his feathered companion that for the first time 
he became depressed, and at last took to his bed. He 
died quietly a few weeks after, saying to the priest 
who had given him the final rites of the church: 
“ M. le Cure — the gold snuff-box the duke gave 
you — ” “Well, my son?” • “The left-hand pocket is 
the safer; we look not there.” Then, half wandering, 
he cried: “ Adieu, Master Time! Thou art the best 
thief, after all”; and so died, holding DesIlles’s hand. 
I learned from the duke and his son, as well as EPILOGUE 
319 
from M. des Illes, many more facts as to Frangois 
than he himself recorded; the good old Cure Le 
Grand, who was a great friend of mine, also con- 
tributed some queer incidents of Francois’s life; and 
thus it was that, when years had gone by, and I be- 
came dependent on my pen, I found myself able to 
write fully of this interesting product of Parisian 
life. 
After considering the material in my possession, I 
soon discovered that it would not answer my purpose 
to let Frangois’s broken memoirs tell his story. There 
were names and circumstances in them which it were 
still unwise to print. Much of what I may call the 
scenery of his somewhat dramatic adventures was 
supplied by the singular knowledge of the Revolu- 
tion which the cure delighted to furnish. The good 
priest was by far the most aged of this group, and 
yet to the last the most clear as to memories of a 
tragic past. Thus it came that I was led to write 
my story of Frangois in the third person, with such 
enlightening aid as I obtained from those who knew 
him better than I. 
In his defense I may be permitted to quote the 
curb’s cautiously worded opinion: 
“ Oh, monsieur, no man knows another, and every 
man is ever another to himself. For you Frangois is 
a thief, strangely proud of an exceptional career and 
of his victories over the precautions of those from 
whom he stole. Is it not so, monsieur1?” I said it 
was. “ But the bon Dieu alone knows all of a man. 
I was not a priest until after the great wars. God 
pardon me, but I like still to tell tales of Jena and 320 
EPILOGUE 
Austerlitz, and of what we did in those days of vic- 
tory. To kill men! The idea now fills me with hor- 
ror, and yet I like nothing better, as monsieur well 
knows, than to talk of those days of battle. And 
Franqois —’t is much the same. How could one live 
with these dear people, and get no lesson from their 
lives'? Our gay, merry-minded Francois loved to 
surprise the staid folks who came hither to visit us; 
but I know that — ah, well, well, priests know many 
things.” 
I thanked him, but still had doubts as to whether 
the moral code of our friend Framjois was ever ma- 
terially altered by precept, example, or by the lack 
of necessity to carry on his interesting branch of 
industry. 
Before telling his story I like to let him say for 
himself the only apologetic words I could discover in 
this memoir: 
“ I have no wish to write my whole life. I want to 
put down some things I saw and some scenes in which 
I was an actor. I am now old. I suppose, from what 
I am told, that I was wicked when I was young. But 
if one cannot see that he was a sinner, what then ? 
The good God who made me knows that I was but a 
little Ishmaelite cast adrift on the streets to feed as 
I might. I defend not myself. I blame not the 
chances of life, nor yet the education which fate gave 
me. It was made to tempt one in need of food and 
shelter. ’T is a great thing to be able to laugh easily 
and often, and this good gift I had; and so, whether 
in safety or in peril, whether homeless or housed, I 
have gone through life merry. I had thought more, EPILOGUE 
321 
says M. le Cure, had I been less light of heart. But 
thus was I made, and, after all, it has its good side. 
I have always liked better the sun than the shadow; 
and as to relieving my wants, are the birds thieves ” 
I noticed on the margins of Francois’s memoirs re- 
marks in a neat female handwriting, which he told 
me were made by Mme. des Illes, who alone had read 
his story. 
At the end I found written: “ If ever another 
should read what is set down in these pages, let them 
have the comment of charity. He who wrote them 
was by nature gifted with affection, good sense, and 
courage. He had many delicacies of character, but 
that of which nature meant to make a gentleman 
and a man of refinement, desertion and evil fortune 
made a thief and a reprobate. She who wrote this 
knew him as no one else did, and, with God’s help, 
drew him out of the slough of crime and into a long 
life of honest ways. Claire des Illes.” They are Read 
Over and Over Again. 
The first time for pure enjoyment of the stories ; the second to get 
better acquainted with the fascinating dwellers in the jungle ; then 
for rest, for the “ touch of nature,” wisdom, wit and humor, imagi- 
nation and poetry, and for the wonderfully direct and simple style. 
The last reading is always the best. To the young 
The Two Jungle Books 
are intensely interesting tales about animals, heretofore known only 
through zoos, circuses and hunters. Mr. Kipling, with his rare 
sympathy and keen observation and imagination, tells for the first 
time how they live and think and feel. boys and girls come 
to know and love Bagheera, the panther, as they do their favorite 
horse, dog, or cat. 
They interest older people in the same way as they interest children, 
and are also full of poetry and easy philosophy and rest — a great 
need these busy days. Whenever you want to get away from your 
thoughts, you can pick up either Jungle Book, begin almost anywhere, 
and keep your mind gently and comfortably, yet thoroughly, engaged. 
You will never be too old or wise to find the Jungle Books genuine 
and refreshing. 
James Whitcomb Riley :—“ Rikki Tfkki Tavi leads ’way on ahead of any child 
lore I know of anywhere.” 
Pall Mall Gazette (London):—“As good as the best of Grimm and Hans Ander- 
sen, plus some excellent verses.” 
New Orleans Picayune :—“ Will take rank beside * Robinson Crusoe ’ and ‘ Arabian 
Nights.’ ” 
Boston Advertiser :—“It cannot fail to become a classic in children’s literature. 
. . . It will be read with intense delight by the grown-ujo children.” 
Life:—“ The very soul of the jungle seems to be caught in it, and for a time you 
are part of an unknown world.” 
Kipling’s two Jungle Books: bound in cloth, and illus- 
trated, 2 volumes, i2mo, $1.50 a volume — at booksellers’. 
Rudyard Kipling's American Novel 
“ CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS.” 
A STORY OF THE GRAND BANKS. 
Illustrated by Taber. Rich cloth binding. 300 pages, $1.50. 
■ ‘ The salt air of the ocean blowing through it fairly makes your nostrils 
tingle.”—Boston Herald. “The most vivid and picturesque treatment 
of New England fishermen that has yet been made.”—Atlantic Monthly. 
Sold everywhere. Published by 
THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK. “A remarkable book by a remarkable man ” 
—Justin McCarthy, M. P. 
“For the great virtues of humanity, sincerity, and all redeeming 
wholesome humor, it stands amongst the average output of fiction 
like an oak in a hedgerow."—David Christie Murray. 
No. 5 JOHN STREET 
BY 
RICHARD WHITEING 
A Romance of the “Other Half” in London, 
with Side-lights on the Life of the “Upper Ten” 
“Written with brilliancy and humor throughout.”—The Athe- 
nceum. 
“ Warmly welcomed on both sides of the Atlantic.”—Review of 
Reviews. 
“ Not to be missed, though one miss all else of the presses’ output 
for a season.”—Chicago Interior. 
I2mo, 315 pages, $1.50. 
A book equally remarkable in its way is 
THE TWO STANDARDS 
BY 
DR. WILLIAM BARRY 
The press of England and America has teemed with reviews of 
this striking romance of latter-day life in London, which derives 
special interest and significance from the fact that its eloquent author 
is a Catholic priest. The Academy finds it “very rich in the root 
qualities of literature, ... a strong and moving piece of work, . . . 
full of specifically modern interests.” 
12mo, 513 pages, $1.50. 
THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK. SONNY 
A CHRISTMAS GUEST 
RUTH McENERY STUART 
“Sonny” was born on Christmas; and before the day was over 
he had “slep’—an’ waked up—an’ yawned—an’ snez—an’ wunk— 
an’ sniffed—an’ opened an’ shet his little fist, once-t, like ez ef he 
craved to shake hands, howdy! ” No wonder so precocious a child 
had decided to become a “ ’Piscopal” long before he was old enough 
to talk! “They’s three schools in the county, not countin’ the nig- 
gers’,” and they sent the prodigy to all three. It is Sonny’s father 
that does the talking in this little book, telling about the boy’s birth, 
his christenin’, his schoolin’, his keepin’ company, and his weddin’ 
presents. And he does it so simply and naturally and humorously, 
that thousands upon thousands of people have bought the story and 
enjoyed it. i6mo, 135 pages, $1. 
GALLOPS 
BY 
DAVID GRAY 
Ten short stories of the sporting set in an inland neighborhood. 
It is not of the horse itself so much as of the people that “ talk 
horse ” and think horse, that the talented young Buffalo lawyer dis- 
courses with such a keen sense of humor. The more you know of 
horses and horsey people, the more you will enjoy these spirited 
tales; but it is not necessary to be an expert and enthusiastic horse- 
man yourself to appreciate the literary merits of this successful book. 
i6mo, 226 pages, $1.25. 
op 
MADAME BUTTERFLY 
BY 
JOHN LUTHER LONG 
Another collection of short stories by a young lawyer—this time 
a Philadelphian. The volume takes its title from one of the most 
striking stories that have appeared in the Century magazine for years; 
and its four bookmates are worthy to keep it company. They deal 
with life in Japan as affected by its relations with the outer world, 
and abound with pathos and humor. i6mo, 224 pages, $1.25. 
THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK. By FRANK R. STOCKTON 
His style is delightful for its gravity in dealing with extravaganza. 
—Boston Journal. 
Mr. Stockton’s object is to amuse at all hazards.—Book News, Philadelphia. 
Every one knows that Mr. Stockton has an inimitable vein of original drollery. 
—Home Journal, New York. 
THE HUNDREDTH MAN.—One of the very best of this 
famous author’s delightful stories. i2mo, 430 pp., cloth, 
$1.50. 
THE CASTING AWAY OF MRS. LECKS AND 
MRS. ALESHINE, and its sequel, THE DUSANTES, 
in one volume. Describing the remarkable adventures of 
two matter-of-fact old ladies who were cast away upon a 
desert island in the Pacific Ocean. New edition. i2mo, 
218 pp., cloth, $1.50. 
THE “MERRY CHANTER.” — A novel that is not “true 
to life.” Illustrated by C. D. Gibson. i2mo, 192 pp., 
cloth, $1.00. 
THE SQUIRREL INN.—“Mr. Stockton is inimitable in 
‘ The Squirrel Inn.’ ”—Boston Herald. Profusely illustrated 
by A. B. Frost. i2mo, 232 pp., cloth, $1.25. 
A NEW EDITION OF STOCKTON’S WORKS—Con- 
sisting of five books, put up in a box, and sold only by the 
set: I. and II. “ The Hundredth Man ”; III. “The Squir- 
rel Inn”; IV. “ The * Merry Chanter ’”; V. “ The Casting 
Away of Mrs. Leeks and Mrs. Aleshine,” and its sequel, 
“ The Dusantes.” In new cloth binding. Price $5.00. 
THE VIZIER OF THE 
TWO-HORNED ALEXANDER 
Ready 
in October, 
1899. 
Illustrated by Birch. $1.25. 
One of the funniest stories Mr. Stockton has ever written. The ad- 
ventures of a man who was born several thousand years ago, but who 
having accidentally drunk of the fountain of youth is supposed to be now 
living in New York at the permanent age of fifty-three. He has known 
many of the great people of the world,— Abraham, Samson, Petrarch, 
Napoleon, and others. He acted at one time as a gardener for Nebu- 
chadnezzar, and many centuries after served Miss Edgeworth in the same 
capacity. 
THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK. Books for the Home 
THE CENTURY 
COOK BOOK 
HERE is something that is said to “take the place of all 
other cook books.” The Home Journal calls it “at 
once the most comprehensive and concise cook book that we 
know of.” Marian Harland praises it highly. It contains 
six hundred pages of the very best and most practical receipts 
known, with photographs off the dishes described. It gives 
special attention to decoration, garnishing, etc., and covers 
every point in cookery. 600 pages, handsomely bound. 
Price, $2.00. 
HOME ECONOMICS 
By MARIA PARLOA 
“IJOME ECONOMICS” is just what American women 
»» have been waiting for. It is “ a guide to household 
management,” including the proper treatment of the mate- 
rials entering into the construction and furnishing of the 
modern house, telling how to take care of modern plumbing, 
hard-wood floors, and all the latest economical appliances. 
The list of what a young couple needs to start housekeeping 
is worth ten times the price of the book. Its use in the 
home will save doctors’ bills. Full of pictures and diagrams. 
In rich binding, $1.50. 
A Handbook of Invalid Cooking 
THE author of this book, Mary A. Boland, is instructor of 
cooking in the Johns Hopkins Hospital Training School 
for Nurses. It forms an invaluable aid in the sick-room, em- 
bodying the result of the best scientific research. It is not 
the part of wisdom to wait for its purchase until an emergency 
arises. $2.00. 
Sold everywhere, or copies sent postpaid by the publishers 
on receipt of price. 
THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, New York. By Mrs. Burton Harrison. 
“ As a chronicler of the very latest phases of metropolitan existence, its fads, its 
foibles, and amusing eccentricities, she has already established her claim to speak 
with authority.”—H. H. Boyesen, in The Cosmopolitan. 
AN ERRANT WOOING—A romance of travel in England and 
in the Mediterranean countries, illustrated with a number of photo- 
graphic and other reproductions of views in England, and in 
Seville, Cordova, Granada, Tangier, etc. A delightful souvenir of 
Mediterranean travel and most useful to the intending traveler. 
i2mo, 258 pp., $1.50. 
A BACHELOR MAID.— One of Mrs. Harrison’s most popular 
novels. It is the story of a pure and noble woman, animated by 
a desire to benefit her sex, and dazzled by the prospect of a 
higher womanhood, yet hardly understanding the things to be 
accomplished or the means of their accomplishment. “ A spark- 
ling story, up-to-date in everyway.”—Chicago Evening Post. 
Illustrated by Irving R. Wiles. i2mo, $1.25. 
SWEET BELLS OUT OF TUNE.—The story of a fashionable 
New York marriage and what came of it. Illustrated by Charles 
Dana Gibson. i2mo, 231 pages, cloth, $1.25. 
CROW'S NEST AND BELHAVEN TALES—A collection 
of Mrs. Harrison’s shorter pieces, principally stories of the South 
in the colonial and ante-bellum days, umo, 212 pages, cloth, 
$1.25. 
GOOD AMERICANS.—A story of contemporaneous New York 
life, the characters being well-known types in the inner social 
circles of the metropolis, although not actual portraits. The scene 
is laid mainly in New York, but it also shifts to New England and 
the Orient, thus furnishing the needed diversity. The plot has to 
do with a self-made man, intent upon his own career, who falls 
in love with a pleasure-seeking girl. There are plenty of compli- 
cations in the development of the story, and the dialogue is crisp, 
as in all of Mrs. Harrison’s work. i2mo, 220 pages, price $1.25. 
THE CENTURY CO, NEW YORK. Should be in Every Home. 
The New Superbly Illustrated Edition of the 
World's Classic 
BUNYAN’S 
PILGRIM’S PROGRESS 
With Illustrations and Decorations by 
George Woolliscroft Rhead, Louis Rhead, 
and Frederick Rhead. 
“ Certainly no more artistic enterprise than this has ever been carried 
through in this country. On every count the three brothers 
have acquitted themselves in a way that speaks at once for 
their artistic powers and their understanding of their 
author, and their achievement should not lack cor- 
dial recognition—New York Tribune. 
THE three brothers, Louis, George Woolliscroft, and Frederick Rhead, the first 
an American artist and the two others residents of England, have together pro- 
duced a set of illustrations and decorations for “The Pilgrim’s Progress ” which is 
declared by artistic judges to be the best yet attempted. The New York Tribune, 
in a critical review of the originals of these illustrations when they were placed on 
exhibition in New York, says that the Rhead brothers “may indulge in the com- 
forting reflection that they have done something to give a new lease of life to a 
classic. As interpretations of Bunyan, these pictures must take high rank. Their 
atmosphere is that of Bunyan’s England and Bunyan’s imagination.” The New 
York Times, in speaking of the exhibition of the originals, said: “All the illustra- 
tions, without exception, have a wonderfully decorative quality, and show long and 
careful thought and study. The exhibition as a whole is extremely important from 
its literary as well as its artistic character, and in its way is the most important of 
its kind held here since that of Elihu Vedder’s drawings for the great edition of 
‘The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam’ some twelve years ago.” The critic of the 
Brooklyn Eagle predicted that “if the book has successful reproductions of these 
pictures, it will be the most satisfying edition of a classic extant, as well as one of 
the important art books of the year.” 
In England the exhibition of the original illustrations which was given at the 
Fine Arts Society’s galleries, in Bond Street, attracted wide attention. 
The illustrations have been very carefully reproduced, and with the text set in 
Jenson type, to harmonize with the strong decorations, the whole forms a wonder- 
fully interesting and beautiful work. There are thirty-six full-page illustrations, 
and twice as many small illustrations inserted in text, with head-bands, initials, etc. 
Regular Edition, printed in brown ink on heavy paper, . $1.50 
Edition de luxe, large paper, in colors, net, . . . 5.00 
THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK. Captain Sigsbee's Book. 
THE “MAINE” 
An Account of her Destruction 
in Havana Harbor. 
By 
CAPTAIN CHARLES D. SIGSBEE, 
Commander of the ** Maine." 
“Every page of the volume evinces the ripe culture and 
broad scholarship which belong to this austere and practical 
man of affairs.”—Atlanta Constitution. 
“A contribution to history of which as a nation we may be 
proud.”—Beacon, Boston. 
8vo, 270 pages, richly illustrated, Si.go. 
Lieut. Hobson's Book. 
THE SINKING OF 
THE “MERRIMAG" 
By 
RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON, 
Naval Constructor, U. S. N. 
“ The same virile imagination which inspired his deed 
makes picturesque and thrilling the manner of his telling 
it. ”— Boston Journal. 
“A Homeric story, told in a straightforward way that is 
modest, frank, earnest and thrilling.”— Times, Philadelphia. 
8vo, joo pages, richly illustrated, S/.JO. 
THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK. Popular Books 
THE HOOSIER POET 
James Whitcomb Riley. 
“James Whitcomb Riley’s simple verse has won a lasting 
place in the hearts of old and young.”—Public Opinion. 
POEMS HERE AT HOME. 
Illustrated by Kemble. 
collection of verses by the famous 
X Hoosier poet contains some of his best 
pieces. “You feel,” says Mr. Howells, “in 
reading Mr. Riley’s verse that here is one of 
the honestest souls that ever uttered itself in 
that way, and that he is true to what we all 
know because he has known it, and not be- 
cause he has verified it by close observation.” 
Among the more than half a hundred poems 
gathered in this volume are such old favorites 
as “ Nothin’to Say,” “The Old Man and Jim,” 
“The Absence of Little Wesley,” “Our Hired Girl,” “The 
Raggedy Man,” etc. 
In cloth, Si.joy in white vellum, $2.so. 
THE RUBAIYAT 
OF DOC SIFERS. 
Illustrated by Relyea. 
i2mo, 120 pages, over 50 pictures, price $1.50. 
MR. RILEY’S hold upon the hearts of old and young will 
be strengthened by the appearance of this volume. It 
is the longest poem he has written, and is marked by his best 
characteristics. The new “Rubaiyat” (a Persian word mean- 
ing quatrains) is the story of a quaint and lovable Hoosier 
doctor, whose ways and doings are described from the point 
of view of an old fellow-townsman. Mr. Relyea was sent to 
Indiana to make the drawings for the book. 
THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK. PATRIOTIC BOOKS 
FOR GIRLS AND BOYS. 
HERO TALES 
FROM AMERICAN 
HISTORY 
BY 
THEODORE ROOSEVELT, 
Governor of New York, and 
HENRY CABOT LODGE, 
Senator from Massachusetts. 
The volume includes graphic descriptions of such historical incidents 
as the battle of New Orleans, the battle of Bennington, the sinking 
of the Albemarle, with sketches of the lives of Daniel Boone, Davy 
Crockett, and other well-known heroes. “ The book is a particularly 
wholesome and stimulating one for young readers, and that boy is to be 
congratulated into whose hands it finds its way. ”—San Francisco Call. 
i2mo, 325 pages, illustrated, $1.50. 
The Famous “ Century ” Series. 
Issued under the auspices of the Sons and Daughters of the American 
Revolution. 
Each book containing from 225 to 250 pages, with one or more pictures 
at each opening. Handsomely bound, price $1.50 each. 
THE CENTURY BOOK 
OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 
By Elbridge S. Brooks. 
The story of the trip of a party of boys and girls to the battle-fields. 
Superbly illustrated— a panorama of the Revolution. 
THE CENTURY BOOK 
FOR YOUNQ AMERICANS. 
The story of the trip of a party of boys and girls to Washington, 
and how they learned all about the Government. 200 pictures. 
THE CENTURY BOOK 
OF FAMOUS AMERICANS. 
The same party of young folks visits the Historic Homes of Wash- 
ington, Clay, Webster, Jefferson, Grant, and others. 
SOME STRANGE CORNERS 
OF OUR COUNTRY. 
By Charles F. Lummis. A delightful book, describing some 
out-of-the-way wonders of the world to be seen here in our own 
country. With colored frontispiece and other illustrations. i2mo, 
270 pp., cloth, $1.50. 
Sold everywhere, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price by the publishers, 
THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, New York.