France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Fiction
The only being on earth whom he loved was this pupil,--child and orphan
as he was. Is such a man vulnerable to the influence of any affection
whatsoever? We shall see.
[Footnote 1: A pan meaning a Turkish republic, and the republic
expelled.--TR.]
[Illustration: Le cabaret de la Rue de Paon 041]
BOOK II.
THE POT-HOUSE OF THE RUE DU PAON
I.
MINOS, ÆACUS, AND RHADAMANTHUS.
[Illustration 042]
In the Rue du Paon there was an ale-house called by courtesy a café,
and in this café a back-room which has since become famous in history.
It was there that from time to time those men, so powerful and so
closely watched that they dared not venture to speak to one another in
public, held their secret meetings.
It was there, on the 23d day of October, 1792, that the Mountain and
the Gironde exchanged their famous kiss. There, too, Garat--although
he does not admit it in his memoirs--came for information during that
rueful night when, after having placed Clavière in safety in the Rue
de Beaune, he stopped his carriage on the Pont-Royal to listen to the
tocsin. On the 28th of June, 1793, in this back-room, three men were
gathered around a table. Their chairs did not touch. Each man occupied
one of the three sides of the table, leaving the fourth one vacant. It
was about eight o'clock in the evening. Although it was still light
in the street, the back-room was dark, and a lamp--a luxury in those
times--hanging from the ceiling threw its light upon the table. The
first of those men was pale, young, and grave, with thin lips and a
cold unsympathetic expression. There was a nervous twitching in his
cheek, which must have been a drawback to the act of smiling. He was
powdered and gloved, and his well-brushed and carefully-buttoned
light-blue coat fitted him without a wrinkle. He wore nankeen breeches,
white stockings, a high cravat, a plaited shirt-frill, and silver
buckles on his shoes. Of the two other men, one was, so to speak, a
giant, the other a dwarf. The tall man was negligently dressed in a
loose coat of scarlet, with his neck bare, and a half-untied cravat
hanging carelessly below his shirt-frill; his waistcoat was unfastened
for want of buttons; he wore top-boots; and his hair, although
dishevelled and bristling, still showed signs of former dressing;
his wig looked very much like a mane, and his face was marked by the
small-pox. Between his eyebrows was a line betokening a fierce temper,
and at the corner of his mouth another, rather suggestive of a kindly
nature. His lips were thick, his teeth large; he had the fist of a
porter, and flashing eyes. The short personage was a yellow-looking
man, who when seated had the effect of one deformed. His head was
thrown back, his eyes blood-shot; livid patches covered his face; a
handkerchief was tied over his straight, greasy hair; no forehead to
speak of, but a monstrous and terrible mouth. He wore long trousers,
slippers, a waistcoat that seemed originally to have been made of
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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