Princess Mary's Gift Book: All profits on sale given to the Queen's "Work for Women" Fund which is acting in Conjunction with The National Relief Fund
General
Princess Mary's Gift Book: All profits on sale given to the Queen's "Work for Women" Fund which is acting in Conjunction with The National Relief Fund
English literature; World War, 1914-1918 -- Gift books
But from that moment we might all have been in the very antechamber of
hell. I could hear the violent kicks against the heavy door of our
prison, and our brave rescuers seemed suddenly to be transformed into a
cageful of wild beasts. Their shouts and yells were as horrible as any
that came to us from the outside, and I must say that the gentle, firm
voice which I had learnt to love was as execrable as any I could hear.
Apparently the door would not yield, as the blows against it became more
and more violent, and presently, from somewhere above my head--the
window presumably--there came a rough call and a raucous laugh:
"Why! what in the name of ---- is happening here?"
And the voice near me answered back equally roughly:
"A quarry of six--but we are caught in this trap--get the door open for
us, citizen--we want to be rid of this booty and go in search for more."
A horrible laugh was the reply from above, and the next instant I heard
a terrific crash; the door had at last been burst open either from
within or without, I could not tell which, and suddenly all the din, the
cries, the groans, the hideous laughter and bibulous songs which had
sounded muffled up to now burst upon us with all their hideousness.
[Illustration]
That was, I think, the most awful moment of that truly fearful hour. I
could not have moved then, even had I wished or been able to do so, but
I knew that between us all and a horrible, yelling, murdering mob there
was now nothing--except the hand of God and the heroism of a band of
English gentlemen.
Together they gave a cry--as loud, as terrifying as any that were
uttered by the butchering crowd in the building, and with a wild rush
they seemed to plunge with us right into the thick of the awful mêlée.
At least that is what it all felt like to me, and afterwards I heard
from our gallant rescuer himself that that is exactly what he and his
friends did. There were eight of them altogether, and we four young ones
had each been hoisted on a pair of devoted shoulders, whilst maman and
papa were each carried by two men.
I was lying across the finest pair of shoulders in the world, and close
to me was beating the bravest heart on God's earth.
Thus burdened, these eight noble English gentlemen charged right through
an army of butchering, howling brutes, they themselves howling with the
fiercest of them.
All around me I heard weird and terrifying cries:
"What ho, citizens! what have you there?"
"Six aristos!" shouted my hero boldly as he rushed on, forcing his way
through the crowd.
"What are you doing with them?" yelled a raucous voice.
"Food for the starving fish in the river," was the ready response.
"Stand aside, citizen," he added, with a round curse. "I have my orders
from citizen Danton himself about these six aristos. You hinder me at
your peril."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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