El Dorado | Page 2

was solely of the helpless and of the innocent.
For this aim he risked his life every time that he set foot on French soil,
for it he sacrificed his fortune, and even his personal happiness, and to
it he devoted his entire existence.
Moreover, whereas the French plotter is said to have had confederates
even in the Assembly of the Convention, confederates who were
sufficiently influential and powerful to secure his own immunity, the
Englishman when he was bent on his errands of mercy had the whole of
France against him.
The Baron de Batz was a man who never justified either his own
ambitions or even his existence; the Scarlet Pimpernel was a
personality of whom an entire nation might justly be proud.
CONTENTS

PART I
I IN THE THEATRE NATIONAL
II WIDELY DIVERGENT AIMS
III THE DEMON CHANCE
IV MADEMOISELLE LANGE
V THE TEMPLE PRISON
VI THE COMMITTEE'S AGENT
VII THE MOST PRECIOUS LIFE IN EUROPE
VIII ARCADES AMBO
IX WHAT LOVE CAN DO
X SHADOWS
XI THE LEAGUE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL
XII WHAT LOVE IS
XIII THEN EVERYTHING WAS DARK
XIV THE CHIEF
XV THE GATE OF LA VILLETTE
XVI THE WEARY SEARCH
XVII CHAUVELIN
XVIII THE REMOVAL
XIX IT IS ABOUT THE DAUPHIN

XX THE CERTIFICATE OF SAFETY
XXI BACK TO PARIS
XXII OF THAT THERE COULD BE NO QUESTION
XXIII THE OVERWHELMING ODDS

PART II
XXIV THE NEWS
XXV PARIS ONCE MORE
XXVI THE BITTEREST FOE
XXVI IN THE CONCIERGERIE
XXVIII THE CAGED LION
XXIX FOR THE SAKE OF THAT HELPLESS INNOCENT
XXX AFTERWARDS
XXXI AN INTERLUDE
XXXII SISTERS
XXXIII LITTLE MOTHER
XXXIV THE LETTER

PART III
XXXV THE LAST PHASE
XXXVI SUBMISSION

XXXVII CHAUVELIN'S ADVICE
XXXVIII CAPITULATION
XXXIX KILL HIM!
XL GOD HELP US ALL
XLI WHEN HOPE WAS DEAD
XLII THE GUARD-HOUSE OF THE RUE STE.ANNE
XLIII THE DREARY JOURNEY
XLIV THE HALT AT CRECY
XLV THE FOREST OF BOULOGNE
XLVI OTHERS IN THE PARK
XLVII THE CHAPEL OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE
XLVIII THE WANING MOON
XLIX THE LAND OF ELDORADO

PART I
CHAPTER I
IN THE THEATRE NATIONAL
And yet people found the opportunity to amuse themselves, to dance
and to go to the theatre, to enjoy music and open-air cafes and
promenades in the Palais Royal.
New fashions in dress made their appearance, milliners produced fresh
"creations," and jewellers were not idle. A grim sense of humour, born

of the very intensity of ever-present danger, had dubbed the cut of
certain tunics "tete tranche," or a favourite ragout was called "a la
guillotine."
On three evenings only during the past memorable four and a half years
did the theatres close their doors, and these evenings were the ones
immediately following that terrible 2nd of September the day of the
butchery outside the Abbaye prison, when Paris herself was aghast with
horror, and the cries of the massacred might have drowned the calls of
the audience whose hands upraised for plaudits would still be dripping
with blood.
On all other evenings of these same four and a half years the theatres in
the Rue de Richelieu, in the Palais Royal, the Luxembourg, and others,
had raised their curtains and taken money at their doors. The same
audience that earlier in the day had whiled away the time by witnessing
the ever-recurrent dramas of the Place de la Revolution assembled here
in the evenings and filled stalls, boxes, and tiers, laughing over the
satires of Voltaire or weeping over the sentimental tragedies of
persecuted Romeos and innocent Juliets.
Death knocked at so many doors these days! He was so constant a guest
in the houses of relatives and friends that those who had merely shaken
him by the hand, those on whom he had smiled, and whom he, still
smiling, had passed indulgently by, looked on him with that subtle
contempt born of familiarity, shrugged their shoulders at his passage,
and envisaged his probable visit on the morrow with lighthearted
indifference.
Paris--despite the horrors that had stained her walls had remained a city
of pleasure, and the knife of the guillotine did scarce descend more
often than did the drop-scenes on the stage.
On this bitterly cold evening of the 27th Nivose, in the second year of
the Republic--or, as we of the old style still persist in calling it, the 16th
of January, 1794--the auditorium of the Theatre National was filled
with a very brilliant company.

The appearance of a favourite actress in the part of one of Moliere's
volatile heroines had brought pleasure-loving Paris to witness this
revival of "Le Misanthrope," with new scenery, dresses, and the
aforesaid charming actress to add piquancy to the master's mordant wit.
The Moniteur, which so impartially chronicles the events of those times,
tells us under that date that the Assembly of the Convention voted