1Our National Guard was at first a curious sight.

2The first rank were armed with guns; the second with scythes; the third with clubs, and so on.

3Later on, the armorers made some pikes for those who had no guns.

4But however the guard was armed, there is no doubt but that it was filled with enthusiasm.

5Not a man, had he received the order, would have hesitated to march on Paris.

6What was most remarkable, with regard to this corps, was the manner in which the battalions seemed, as it were, to spring from the earth. Liberty was as yet quite young; and yet she had only to strike with her foot on the ground, to raise this deadly harvest of men.

7It was in the sainted year of 1789 that all France became soldiers. After the 14th July, every Frenchman was born with teeth ready to bite a cartridge.

8Villages and towns joined in one compact; and that was, to mutually help each other when necessary.

9One day, we saw arrive, by way of Clermont, the people of Verdun; and, by way of Paris, the people of St. Menehould.

10They had heard that a band of robbers had issued from the Forest of Argonne, set fire to Islettes, and plundered the village.

11A hundred men from Clermont, under the command of M. Mathieu, and two hundred from St. Menehould, under M. Drouet, had therefore set out, to render what assistance they might in the extermination of the brigands, of whom they had as yet not seen a trace.

12They made merry, therefore, instead of fighting, and in the place of the rattle of musketry, was heard the more peaceful song.

13Eight days afterwards, a man passed on horseback, going from Clermont to St. Menehould, and crying out, “The brigands are marching on Varennes! Help! help!”

14The man disappeared from view—none knew him. No matter, all leaped up; the drum beat the rappel; fifty men put themselves under the direction of Bertrand; and, without inquiring the number of the enemy, marched to Varennes. Needless to say, I was one of them.

15From the height of the hill of Veuvilly, we saw a great cloud of dust, about half a league ahead of us.

16They were the men of Clermont, who, having started about half an hour before us, were about half a league ahead.

17At that sight, all elevated their hats on the ends of their muskets or pikes, and shouted “Vive la nation!”

18That cry had almost completely taken the place of “Vive le Roi!”

19We arrived at Varennes, which we expected to find in flames, with the streets running blood. From the height of the hill, which descends to the Rue des Réligieuses, we had a good view of the town.

20All was quiet.

21The people of Clermont, when they first arrived, were taken for the brigands, whom they were expecting every moment.

22When they recognised them, there was a general embracing, and crying “Vive la nation!”

23Then we arrived, in our turn; and two hours afterwards, the men of Montfalcon, De Bousance, and De Vouziez. The latter had marched eight leagues in five hours.

24They bivouacked in the Place de Latry, and the Place de Grand Monarque.

25They then laid out tables for a public repast, where, after an ancient custom, each one chose his companions, and found his own dinner.

26I had one visit to pay in Varennes—a place to which I seldom came, and where I only knew two persons, M. Guillaume and M. Billaud.

27I remembered me of one of the two master workmen who had priced my carpentry work for M. Drouet; and who said that if I had no work to do, and would accept it of him, he could always find me plenty.

28His name was Father Gerbaut.

29I asked his address. He lived in the Rue de la Basse Cour. The houses were not numbered at that period. On the left, descending to the Place Latry, next door to a large grocer’s, his house was situated.

30I called. He was out; but expected home every moment.

31I was received by his daughter, a charming girl, a little younger than myself—that is to say, about sixteen or seventeen years of age.

32She asked me to wait till her father returned, or to give her my name if I feared becoming weary of staying with her.

33Of course, I rejected with scorn the idea that any one could become wearied in the presence of one so gracious and charming.

34It was the first time in my life that I had ever addressed a compliment to a female.

35Indeed, it was the first time that I had been in conversation with a girl at all.

36Up to this time, I had scarcely given women a moment’s consideration.

37Directly I told my name to the young girl, her face, which had before been amiable, brightened into a look of friendship.

38“I know you,” said she; “you worked for M. Drouet; my father has mentioned you to his workmen, more than once, as an example to be followed. Do stay; he will be glad to see you.”

39On looking around me, I perceived a harpsichord.

40“You are a musician, I perceive, mademoiselle.”

41“Oh, Monsieur Réné, you must not call me that. The organist of St. Gengoulf has given me a few lessons; and, as he says I have some voice, I practise singing to amuse myself.”

42“Mademoiselle,” said I, “can you believe that I have never heard the sound of a harpsichord, or any song, but that of the washerwomen, as they beat their linen? Will you sing something for me as well as yourself, and I shall be completely happy?”

43“With the greatest pleasure,” she replied.

44And rising up, she crossed over to the harpsichord; and, after a simple prelude, she sang—

45“How sad to me the day

46When thou art far away! ”

47Every one knows that pretty romance, the “Devin de Village.”

48But it had never seemed so charming to me as when issuing from the lips of my pretty songstress.

49Mademoiselle Gerbaut had sang very simply, but with that coquetry so natural to women. Her face was variable; and as she sang without accompaniment, leaning slightly back in her chair, her half-closed eyes gave a somewhat sentimental expression to the rest of her face. Her mouth was beautifully formed, she spoke almost without any perceptible movement of the lips, and you saw, at the first glance, that what she said was neither artificial nor constrained.

50I was delighted with her. I said nothing, but my looks spoke more than words could have done.

51“Mademoiselle,” said I, not being able, in my enthusiasm, to think of anything else, “have you read ‘Emile?’”

52“No, monsieur,” she replied; “but my mother has read it, and that is why I am named Sophie.”

53“You are named Sophie!” cried I, seizing her hand, and pressing it to my heart; “now I am completely happy!”

54She looked at me with an astonished smile.

55“And why are you so happy because my name is Sophie?” said she.

56“Because now I can look upon you as a sister more than a stranger. Oh, Sophie—dear Sophie!”

57Sophie regarded me with a more astonished expression of face than ever; and I know not what she might have said, had not M. Gerbaut made his appearance at that moment.

58“Ah! is that you, Réné?” said he; “you are, indeed, welcome. I asked the news from your friends on the Place there, and when they told me that you were at Varennes, I knew you would not go without calling to see me.”

59“Yes, M. Gerbaut,” I answered, going up to him, and shaking his hand; “but I did not expect to find what I have found.”

60“And, pray, what have you found?”

61“Mademoiselle Sophie, who has been kind enough to sing me an air from the ‘Devin de Village de M. Rousseau.’”

62“Ah, indeed! She did not require much persuasion, did she?”

63“Only great men, or great fools, require to be asked twice,” said Sophie, laughing; “and as I am not a genius or a ——-”

64Here she paused, while a sweet smile played over her lips.

65“Fool,” continued M. Gerbaut, “you sang to him.”

66“Did I do wrong, father?”

67“Certainly not. As long as you sing to your equals, and without affectation, well and good. You know what I mean?”

68Sophie bent her eyes, blushing.

69“We must change our quarters, I think,” said Father Gerbaut, half smiling, half serious.

70“Wherefore?” said I, breaking into the conversation.

71“Because we are just opposite to the ‘Hotel de Bras d’Or,’ where many handsome young gentlemen put up, and who are fond of music as a vehicle for making love.”

72“Oh, father!” murmured Sophie; “say not so!”

73“What would you have?” cried M. Gerbaut. “They are no friends of mine who would bring trouble into peaceful families. When I understood that the princes and great lords had left the country, I had hoped that these gentlemen would have gone in their train. But no; they stay to make love to our wives and daughters, and to conspire against the nation. But this is not the time to speak of that. This is a fête day for Varennes. I must pay a visit to the cellar and larder. After dinner we will have a dance. Will you be Sophie’s partner?” said M. Gerbaut to me.

74“I should be only too happy,” cried I; “but perhaps Mdlle. Sophie does not think a young apprentice worthy of offering her his arm?”

75“Oh, M. Réné!” said the young girl; “you listen to my father, and then do me a grievous wrong, without any foundation for it.”

76Sophie and myself bounded down the staircase, and in a moment found ourselves under a bright sun in the street, as I could not help thinking, like two butterflies emerged from a chrysalis state.

77Whilst I had been waiting at M. Gerbaut’s, and whilst I had been listening to Sophie’s song, the streets of Varennes had undergone a great change.

78The city was holding high holiday, with which, however, was mingled a certain degree of solemnity.

79All the houses were hung with tapestry; and outside the doors tables were laid, covered with flowers, at which the inhabitants of the houses were seated, eating, waited upon by their servants, if they had any; if not, by themselves.

80As if they wished that the dead should participate in the joy of the living, garlands of green boughs, intermingled with flowers, were suspended from the gates of the cemetery, which stretched from the church to the side of the Rue de l’Horloge. In the middle of the Place was erected a scaffolding, filled with amateur musicians, who wished to promote a dance after dinner. On the front of this temple of Terpsichore was written “Vive le Roi! Vive la nation!” Underneath this, in large letters, was inscribed the word “Fraternité!”

81It was, in fact a brotherly rejoicing. Those who there met for the first time were members of one great family, which had existed for centuries, only it ignored the tie which bound one to the other.

82But common danger had caused to meet the two ends of the thread, and in their union they found force.

83After passing the houses leading to the Place Latry, we arrived at the open space in front of the Rue de l’Horloge, and entered into the midst of the crowd.

84There seemed to be collected all the inhabitants of the High Town.

85In each street the tables were arranged on the right and left side of the houses; a space in the middle being left for the promenaders. The Rue des Réligieuses, which runs down from the foot of the hill, made a most perfect and picturesque view.

86We got mixed up with a lot of other persons, when all of a sudden a crowd of horsemen—young gentlemen, apparently—appeared on the crest of the hill, and, putting their horses at full gallop, dashed into the Rue des Réligieuses. There was a general cry of “Each one for himself!” and we turned to fly; but as we had been in front before, we now naturally found ourselves in the rear.

87Thinking but of Sophie, I wished to put her under one of the tables, to be out of the way of danger; but curious to relate, she did not seem to know the peril she was in, and would not stir till it was too late; and I had just time to clasp her in my arms, and throw myself in front of her.

88I had scarcely accomplished this, than, on turning round, I discovered myself face to face with a horseman, whose steed was perfectly unmanageable, and turned round and round, threatening us with his hoofs as he did so.

89I had but one hope, and that was to preserve Sophie. I caught hold of the horse’s bridle, the cavalier raised his whip, the horse gave a plunge, and, whether through accident or intention, the blow, instead of falling on the horse, struck me on the shoulder.

90The shame of being struck, more than the pain of the blow, caused the blood to rise to my head. I seized the horseman by his waist, lifted him from the saddle, the horse bolting away at the moment, upsetting a woman and two or three children in its wild career, and fell with him on the pavement; but, being the more vigorous, I was the uppermost, and soon had him at my mercy, with my knee on his breast.

91It was only when his hat fell from his head, that I recognised who my adversary was.

92“M. de Malmy!” cried I.

93And taking my knee from his breast, and releasing his arms, I stood a little on one side.

94“Ah, wretch!” cried he regaining his whip. “Do you know what is the penalty for laying hands on a gentleman?”

95“M. le Viscount!” cried Sophie, pale with terror, placing herself, at the same time, between us.

96He smiled a grim smile, grinding his teeth as he did so.

97“I am determined, mademoiselle. Had he been a gentleman, I would chastise him with a sword; but as he is not, I shall punish him with this whip.”

98He raised it.

99I looked for something with which to defend myself. At that moment, a man sprang over one of the tables, seized the Marquis with one hand, and possessed himself of the whip with the other.

100“Monsieur,” said he, “whips were made for horses and dogs. Réné Besson is a man.”

101“A man?” repeated the Viscount, furiously.

102“Yes, a man; and one whom you may not insult.”

103“Who are you?” asked the Viscount.

104“You know me very well, M. de Malmy; but as you ask, I will tell you. I am Jean Baptiste Drouet, postmaster at St. Menehould. I am not of noble birth, I know full well; but for six years have I served my country as a soldier, and that is better than a gentleman who spends his life in eating, drinking, and hunting. This I say for the benefit of you and your friends, and if you want me, you know where to find me.”

105Saying these words, Drouet pushed De Malmy aside, and turned to confront two or three other young gentlemen, who, having dismounted, had come to join in the quarrel.

106“When we change horses at your post-house, M. Drouet,” said one of these young men, “we do not generally approach, but send our domestics to bear our orders to you.”

107“I would much rather deal with your servants than with you, M. de Courtement. They, at least, have not sold their wives or daughters in the Parc au Cerfs.”

108The young noble took this as a sarcasm on his birth, with regard to which infamous reports had been bruited about.

109He had a hunting-knife in his belt, and suddenly drew it, maddened with anger.

110But before the knife could do any mischief, Drouet drew a pistol from his pocket, and presented it full in the face of the Chevalier.

111“Monsieur,” said he, “I could shoot you like I would a wild beast; and two hundred people would bear witness that you offered the first insult; but the time has not yet come when all shall have their dues. So go your way in peace, and let the matter stand as it is.”

112“Oh, without doubt, that proceeding would suit you wonderfully well,” said M. de Malmy; “but, for the sake of an example, I must proceed otherwise.”

113Raising his whip, he advanced on M. Drouet, who, making a spring to one side, jumped on a table, and cried out, in a powerful tone of voice, “Help! To my assistance, men of St. Menehould!”

114A hundred voices responded to the cry; a crowd rushed to where we were; and in a moment, the five or six gentlemen were completely in our power.

115Each had seized the arms that came nearest to hand—one a pike, another a musket; thus showing by their alacrity, their wish to be of service to their commander. They were informed of the origin of the dispute, and wished nothing better than to fan up the embers of the old quarrel between the nobles and the people.

116The young gentlemen saw that it was useless to attempt resistance.

117“Murder us!” cried the Viscount; “even as your friends at Paris have murdered De Launay, Foulon, and Berthier.”

118“Our friends, as you call them, in Paris, disgraced themselves by laying hands on men who were scarcely good enough to die by the hands of the common executioner. But what would you have? The people have cried for justice, and it has been denied them. Is it, then, wonderful that they should take the law in their own hands when the opportunity presented? But as for you, gentlemen, as you are not gaolers, like De Launay, or extortioners, like Foulon and Berthier, you have not merited death, but simply a little lesson, which I shall have great pleasure in giving you.”

119“Give a lesson to us?” cried the young men, mad with rage.

120“Yes; but it shall not be harsh or spiteful. This is a day of brotherly fraternity. Are you our brothers? Will you share in our fête? Forget the hard words that have passed between us; or, if you cannot, put them down to the account of that goddess who is aptly called Discord. The tables await you. Sit down among us, and we will give you the place of honor; and the first one who forgets to pay the respect which is due to you, shall be chased from the midst of us, as one unworthy of participating in our reunion. Do you agree with me?” cried Drouet to all who were around.

121“Yes! yes!” replied all, with one voice, with the exception of the young nobles, who still continued silent.

122“What if we refuse?” at last said one of them.

123“If you refuse,” said Drouet, “go to the ‘Bras d’Or,’ or the ‘Grand Monarque;’ eat and drink as you like—you are free; but disturb not our enjoyment. Am I not right, my friends?” continued Drouet, for the second time addressing the crowd.

124The applause was as loud as before.

125“And if we do not promise to leave you in quiet enjoyment of your fête—what then?” asked another of the young nobles.

126“As, by that act, you will prove that you are not good citizens, and that you are desirous of breaking the public peace, we shall ask you to leave the town quietly; and; if you refuse, we will expel you by force.”

127“Bravo! bravo!” cried all.

128M. de Malmy interrogated his companions with his eyes; and as he saw the same expression in all theirs, “Messieurs,” said he, “I regret that, in the name of my friend and myself, I must refuse the great honor that you offer us. I regret, also, that we cannot pledge our word not to interrupt the fête, as we are not sufficient philosophers to avoid breaking our promise; so—as we have no further business to detain us in town—we ask your permission to make our most respectful adieu, and to go and seek our pleasure elsewhere.”

129“As you wish, M. le Viscount,” said M. Drouet. “You are free to go.” Then, assuming the tone of command which sat so well on him, he said, “Allow these gentlemen to pass, and preserve complete silence; the one who passes a remark, will have to answer for it to me.”

130Not a sound could be heard.

131In the midst of this oppressive silence, the young nobles remounted their horses, and returned by the way that they had arrived.

132No word was spoken, no movement made; but the people followed the little party with their eyes until they finally disappeared from view on turning into the road leading to Clermont.

133Then a voice was heard, calm, but commanding in its tones. It was Drouet’s.

134“Lieutenant Bertrand,” said he, “place sentinels at the gates and see that the young nobles do not re-enter the town, during the continuance of the fête.”

135Then, turning to the crowd, “Am I not right, my friends?” said he.

136“Vive M. Drouet! Vive la nation!” cried the people, with one voice.

137A few cries of “Down with the nobles!” were heard, but they had no response. In fact, Drouet turned to whence those cries proceeded, and made a gesture of disapprobation.

138The fête then continued as happily as if nothing had happened.