looking for a young traveller from Besançon?"
"I'm here," replied a gruff, coarse voice.
And a man who looked like a groom approached. He was hardly distinguishable in the gloom, in spite of the lantern he carried, which lighted nothing but the pavement at his feet. He turned toward the open door of the huge vehicle.
"Ah! so it's you, Sleepy-head," cried the conductor.
"My name's not Sleepy-head; it's Coclès," replied the groom, in a surly tone, "and I am looking for the citizen Charles."
"You come from citizeness Teutch, don't you?" said the boy, in a soft tone that formed an admirable contrast to the groom's surly tones.
"Yes, from the citizeness Teutch. Well, are you ready, citizen?"
"Conductor," said the boy, "you will tell them at home—"
"That you arrived safely, and that there was some one to meet you; don't worry about that, Monsieur Charles."
"Oh, ho!" said the groom, in a tone verging upon a menace, as he drew near the conductor and the boy.
"Well, what do you mean with your 'Oh, ho'?"
"I mean that the words you use may be all right in the Franche-Comté, but that they are all wrong in Alsace."
"Really," said the conductor, mockingly, "you don't say so?"
"And I would advise you," continued citizen Coclès, "to leave your monsieurs in your diligence, as they are not in fashion here in Strasbourg. Especially now that we are so fortunate as to have citizens Lebas and Saint-Just within our walls."
"Get along with your citizens Lebas and Saint-Just! and take this young man to the Hôtel de la Lanterne."
And, without paying further heed to the advice of citizen Coclès, the conductor entered the Hôtel de la Poste.
The man with the torch followed the conductor with his eyes, muttering to himself; then he turned to the boy: "Come on, citizen Charles," he said. And he went on ahead to show the way.
Strasbourg, even at its best, was never a gay, lively town, especially after the tattoo had been beaten for two hours; but it was duller than ever at the time when our story opens; that is to say, during the early part of the month of December, 1793. The Austro-Prussian army was literally at the gates of the city. Pichegru, general-in-chief of the Army of the Rhine, after gathering together all the scattered forces at his command, had, by force of will and his own example, restored discipline and resumed the offensive on the 18th Frimaire, three days before; organizing a war of skirmishing and sharpshooting, since he was powerless to offer battle. He had succeeded Houchard and Custine, who had been guillotined because they had met with reverses, and Alexandre de Beauharnais, who was also in danger of being guillotined.
Furthermore, Saint-Just and Lebas were there, not only commanding Pichegru to conquer, but decreeing the victory. The guillotine followed them, charged with executing their decrees the instant they were made.
And three decrees had been issued that very day.
The first one ordered the gates of Strasbourg to be closed at three o'clock in the afternoon; anyone who delayed their closing, if only for five minutes, did so under pain of death.
The second decree forbade any one to flee before the enemy. The rider who put his horse to a gallop, or the foot-soldier who retreated faster than a walk, when turning his back on the enemy on the field of battle, thereby incurred the penalty of death.
The third decree, which was due to fear of being surprised by the enemy, forbade any soldier to remove his clothing at night. Any soldier who disobeyed this order, no matter what his rank, was condemned to death.
The boy who had just entered the city was destined to see each of these three decrees carried into effect within six days after his arrival in the city.
As we have said, all these circumstances, added to the news which had just arrived from Paris, increased the natural gloominess of the city.
This news told of the deaths of the queen, the Duc d'Orléans, Madame Roland, and Bailly.
There was talk of the speedy recapture of Toulon from the English, but this was as yet a mere rumor.
Neither was the hour liable to make Strasbourg appear to advantage in the new-comer's eyes. After nine o'clock in the evening the dark, narrow streets were wholly given up to the patrol of the civic guard and of the company of the Propagande, who were watching over the public welfare.
Nothing, in fact, could be more depressing and mournful to a traveller newly arrived from a town which is neither in a state of war nor on the frontier than the sound of the nocturnal tramp of an organized body, stopping suddenly at an order given in a muffled tone, and accompanied by the clashing of arms and the exchange of the password each time two squads met.
Two or three of these patrols had already passed our young traveller and his guide, when they met another, which brought them to a halt with the challenging, "Who goes there?"
In Strasbourg there were three different ways of replying to this challenge, which indicated in a sufficiently characteristic way the varying opinions. The indifferent ones replied, "Friends!" The moderates, "Citizens!" The fanatics, "Sans Culottes!"
"Sans Culottes!" Coclès energetically answered the guard.
"Advance and give the watchword!" cried an imperious voice.
"Ah, good!" said Coclès, "I recognize that voice; it belongs to citizen Tétrell. Leave this to me."
"Who is citizen Tétrell?" asked the boy.
"The friend of the people, the terror of the aristocrats, an out-and-outer." Then, advancing like a man who has nothing to fear, he said: "It is I, citizen Tétrell!"
"Ah! you know me," said the leader of the patrol, a giant of five feet ten, who reached something like a height of seven feet with his hat and the plume which surmounted it.
"Indeed I do," exclaimed Coclès. "Who does not know citizen Tétrell in Strasbourg?" Then, approaching the colossus, he added: "Good-evening, citizen Tétrell."
"It's all very well for you to know me," said the giant, "but I don't know you."
"Oh, yes you do! I am citizen Coclès, who was called Sleepy-head in the days of the tyrant; it was you yourself who baptized me with the name when your horses and dogs were at the Hôtel de la Lanterne. Sleepy-head! What, you don't remember Sleepy-head?"
"Why, of course I do; I called you that because you were the laziest rascal I ever knew. And who is this young fellow?"
"He," said Coclès, raising his torch to the level of the boy's face—"he is a little chap whom his father has sent to Euloge Schneider to learn Greek."
"And who is your father, my little friend?" asked Tétrell.
"He is president of the tribunal at Besançon, citizen," replied the lad.
"But one must know Latin to learn Greek."
The
