The Triumph of the Scarlet Pimpernel | Page 7

shoulders, his hat he pulled down well over his eyes. Thus muffled and,
he hoped, unrecognizable, he passed with a firm tread out of the room.
3
For awhile the old witch waited, strainer her ears to catch the last sound
of those retreating footsteps; then, with a curt word and an impatient
clapping of her hands, she dismissed her attendants, the negro as well
as her neophytes. These young women at her word lost quickly enough
their air of rapt mysticism, became very human indeed, stretched out
their limbs, yawned lustily, and with none too graceful movements
uncurled themselves and struggled to their feet. Chattering and
laughing like so many magpies let out of a cage, they soon disappeared
through the door in the rear.
Again the old woman waited silent and motionless until that merry
sound too gradually subsided. Then she went across the room to the
dais, and drew aside the curtain which hung behind it.
"Citizen Chauvelin!" she called peremptorily.
A small figure of a man stepped out from the gloom. He was dressed in
black, his hair, of a nondescript blonde shade and his crumpled linen
alone told light in the general sombreness of his appearance.
"Well?" he retorted drily.

"Are you satisfied?" the old woman went on with eager impatience.
"You heard what I said?"
"Yes, I heard," he replied. "Think you he will act on it?"
"I am certain of it."
"But why not have named Theresia Cabarrus? Then, at least, I would
have been sure-"
"He might have recoiled at an actual name," the woman replied,
"suspected me of connivance. The Chosen of the people of France is
shrewd as well as distrustful. And I have my reputation to consider. But,
remember what I said: 'tall, dark, beautiful, a stranger in this land!' So,
if indeed you require the help of the Spaniard-"
"Indeed I do!" he rejoined earnestly. And, as if speaking to his own
inward self, "Theresia Cabarrus is the only woman I know who can
really help me."
"But you cannot force her consent, citizen Chauvelin," the sybil
insisted.
The eyes of citizen Chauvelin lit up suddenly with a flash of that old
fire of long ago, when he was powerful enough to compel the consent
or the co-operation of any man, woman or child on whom he had
deigned to cast an appraising glance. But the flash was only momentary.
The next second he had once more resumed his unobtrusive, even
humbled, attitude.
"My friends, who are few," he said, with a quick sigh of impatience;
"and mine enemies, who are without number, will readily share your
conviction, Mother, that citizen Chauvelin can compel no one to do his
bidding these days. Least of all the affianced wife of powerful Tallien."
"Well, then," the sybil argued, "how think you that-"
"I only hope, Mother," Chauvelin broke in suavely, "that after your

séance to-day, citizen Robespierre himself will see to it that Theresia
Cabarrus gives me the help I need."
Catherine Théot shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh!" she said drily, "the Cabarrus knows no law save that of her
caprice. And as Tallien's fiancée she is almost immune."
"Almost, but not quite! Tallien is powerful, but so was Danton."
"But Tallien is prudent, which Danton was not."
"Tallien is also a coward; and easily led like a lamb, with a halter. He
came back from Bordeaux tied to the apron-strings of the fair Spaniard.
He should have spread fire and terror in the region; but at her bidding
he dispensed justice and even mercy instead. A little more airing of his
moderate views, a few more acts of unpatriotic clemeney, and powerful
Tallien himself may become 'suspect.'"
"And you think that, when he is," the old woman rejoined with grim
sarcasm, "you will hold his fair betrothed in the hollow of your hand?"
"Certainly!" he assented, and with an acid smile fell to contemplating
his thin, talon-like palms. "Since Robespierre, counselled by Mother
Théot, will himself have placed her there."
Whereupon Catherine Théot ceased to argue, since the other appeared
so sure of himself. Once more she shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, then, if you are satisfied..." she said.
"I am. Quite," he replied, and at once plunged his hand in the
breast-pocket of his coat. He had caught the look of avarice and of
greed which had glittered in the old hag's eyes. From his pocket he
drew a bundle of notes, for which Catherine immediately stretched out
a grasping hand. But before giving her the money, he added a stern
warning.
"Silence, remember! And, above all, discretion!"

"You may rely on me, citizen," the sybil riposted quietly. "I am not
likely to blab."
He did not place the notes in her hand, but threw them down on the
table with a gesture