THE WISH THE king had expressed to Lafayette in the presence of the Count de Bouille, to have his old master Gamain to assist him in an important piece of locksmithing, will be recollected. He had even added, and we think it not unimportant to give the detail, that an apprentice would not be without use in the work. The number three, in which the gods delight, was not displeasing to Lafayette, and he therefore gave orders to admit Master Gamain and his apprentice freely, and that whenever they came they should be taken to the king.
It will not, therefore, surprise our readers to see M. Gamain, accompanied by an apprentice, in their working dress, present themselves at the gates of the Tuileries. After their admission, to which no objection was made, they went around the royal apartments by the common corridor, and up the stairway to the door of the forge, where they left their names with the valet de chambre.
Their names were Nicholas Claude Gamain and Louis Lecomte.
Though the names were not at all aristocratic, as soon as he heard them Louis XVI. himself went to the door and said: “Come in!”
“Here! here! here!” said Gamain, appearing, not only with the familiarity of a fellow workman, but of a fellow apprentice.
“Ah! Gamain, is it you? I am glad to see you, for I thought that you had forgotten me.”
“And that is the reason why you took an apprentice? You did well; you were right, for I was not here. Unfortunately,” said he, with a wiry expression, “the apprentice is not a master.”
“What else could I do, poor Gamain?” said Louis XVI.; “they told me you wished to have nothing to do with me under any circumstances, for fear of compromising yourself.”
“Ma foi, sir, you might have learned at Versailles that it is not a safe thing to be one of your friends, for I saw, in the little inn of the Pont de Sevres, the heads of two guardsmen, who grinned horribly, dressed by M. Leonard. They were killed because they chanced to be in your antechamber when you received the visits of your Parisian friends.”
A cloud passed over the king's face, and the apprentice bowed his head.
“They say, though, that since your return to Paris things are much better, and that you now make the Parisians do all you wish. That is not wonderful, for the Parisians are such fools, and you and the queen have such winning ways about you.”
Louis XVI. said nothing, but a faint flush passed over his cheeks.
“Now,” said Gamain, “let us look at this famous lock, for I promised my wife to return to-night.”
The king gave Gamain a lock three-quarters done.
Gamain pointed out a great many alterations, and the king said:
“But it will take a day's hard work to effect all this, Gamain?”
“Ah, yes, to another, but two hours will be enough for me; only you must not annoy me with questions, and say 'Gamain this, and Gamain that;' leave me alone. The shop seems to have tools enough, and in two hours, yes, two hours, come back, and all will be complete,'' said Gamain, with a smile.
Tins was exactly what the king wished. The solitude of Gamain would enable him to talk alone with Louis.
“If you want anything, Gamain?”
“If I do, I will call the valet de chambre, provided he be ordered to bring me what I wish.”
“Volnay,” said the king, after examining the alterations Gamain had suggested, “remain here, I pray you; Gamain, my old master, has come to correct a mistake in a lock I began. Give him all he wants, especially two or three bottles of excellent Bordeaux.”
“Will your majesty please to remember that I like Burgundy best, sire. Damn Bordeaux, it is like drinking warm water.”
“Ah, yes; true. I forgot, we have often trinquered together, my poor Gamain. Burgundy, you understand, Volnay.”
“Ah, yes,” said Gamain, wetting his lips, “I remember.”
“And did it make the water come to your lips?”
“Do not talk to me about water; I do not know of what earthly use it is, except to temper metal with; all who use it for any other purpose divert it from its true destination.”
“Be easy; as long as you are here you will not hear water mentioned, and lest by accident the word escape from our lips, we will leave you; when you have done, send for us. The drawer for which this look is intended—”
“Ah, that is the kind of work which suits you. Wish you joy.”
Bowing familiarly to Gamain, the king left with the apprentice, Louis Lecomte, or Le Comte Louis, whom the reader has had sufficient perspicacity to have recognised as the son of the Marquis de Bouille.
Louis XVI. did not go from the shop by the outer stairway, but by the private one, intended for him alone. This led to his study. The table was covered by a vast map of France, which proved that the king had already studied the shortest and most feasible way to leave his kingdom.
Not until at the foot of the staircase did Louis XVI. appear to recognise the young apprentice, who, with his hat in his hand and his jacket over his arm, followed him. He then looked carefully around the room, and said: “Now, my dear count, that we are alone, let me compliment you on your address, and thank you for your devotion. But we have no time to lose; even the queen is ignorant of your business here; no one has heard us, so tell me quickly what brings you.”
“Did not your majesty do my father the honour to send an officer to his garrison?”
“Yes, sire, that is the name; he had a letter.”
“Which meant nothing in words, and which was but an introduction to a verbal message.”
“This verbal message, sire, he delivered, and that its execution might be certain, at my father's order, and with the hope of seeing your majesty, I set out for Paris.”
“I know that the king wishes, at a certain given moment, to be able to quit France.”
“And thinks the Marquis de Bouille able to second him in his plan.”
“My father is proud and grateful for the honour you have done him.”
“But to the point, what says he of the plan?”
“That it is hazardous, demands great precaution, but is not impossible.”
“In the first place,” said the king, “that the co-operation of M. Bouille may have such full effect as his loyalty and devotion promise, would it not be better that the governments of several provinces were united to his command at Metz, especially the government of Tranche Comte?”
“So my father thinks, sire, and I am happy that your majesty has yourself first expressed the idea. The marquis feared your majesty would attribute it to personal ambition.”
“Go, go! do I not know your father's personal abnegation? Come, tell me, did he explain himself to you as to the course to be adopted?”
“This is what my father proposes to your majesty.”
“Speak,” said the king, looking over the map of France, to follow the different routes the young count was about to propose.
“Sire, there are many points to which the king can retire.”
“Certainly, but I prefer Montmedy, which is in the centre of your father's command. Tell the marquis that my choice is made, and that I prefer Montmedy.”
“Has the king resolved on the attempt, or is it but a project?” the young count dared to ask.
“My dear Louis,” replied Louis XVI., “nothing is as yet determined on. If I see the queen and my children exposed to new dangers, like those of the night of the 5th and 6th of October, I will decide; tell your father, my dear count, when I shall once have made up my mind, it will be irrevocable.”
“Now, sire,” said the young count, “if it were permitted to me to express an opinion in relation to the manner of the voyage, may I mention to your majesty my father's advice?”
“He thinks that the dangers would be diminished by dividing them.”
“Sire, your majesty should start with Madame Elizabeth and Madame Royale, while the queen, with the dauphin—so that—”
“It is useless, my dear Louis, to discuss this point. In a solemn moment we decided, the queen and I, not to separate. If your father wishes to save us, he must save us all together, or not at all.”
“Another thing, sire; there are two roads to Montmedy. I must ask your majesty which you will take, in order that it may be examined by a competent engineer.”
“We have a competent engineer—M. de Charny, who is devoted to us. The fewer persons we put in the secret, the better. In the count we have a servant intelligent and tried, and will make use of him. As I chose Montmedy, the two roads are marked out on this map.”
“There are three, sire,” said De Bouille, respectfully.
“I know, that from Paris to Metz, which I left beyond Verdun, to take the Stenop road along the Meuse, from which Montmedy is but three leagues distant.”
“There also is Rheims, l'Isle de Retter and de Stenay,” said the young count, anxious that the king should select that.
“Ah, ah!” said the king, “it seems that is the route you prefer.”
“Sire, it is not my opinion, but my father's, and is founded on the fact that the country it passes is poor and almost a desert; consequently fewer precautions are required. He adds, that the Royal German, the best regiment in the service, the only one perhaps which has remained completely faithful, is stationed at Stenay, and can be your escort from Isle de Retter. Thus the danger of incurring suspicion by too great a movement of troops would be avoided.”
“Yes,” said the king, “we would have to pass Rheims, where. I was crowned, and where the first comer might recognise me. No, my dear count, on that point I am resolved.”
The king pronounced these words in so firm a voice, that Count Louis did not even dare to make another suggestion.
“On the road from Chalons to Verdun, there are troops in the little cities between Montmedy and Chalons. I do not see any inconvenience,” added the king, “even if the first detachment met me in this last city.”
“Sire, when there it will be time enough to decide how far the regiments can venture. The king is, however, aware that there is not a post-station at Varennes.”
“I am glad, count, to see that you are so well informed; it proves that you have seriously studied our plan. Do not be afraid, though, for we will contrive a way to find horses, both above and below that town—our engineer will decide on the spot.”
“And now, sire, that nearly all is decided, will your majesty permit me to quote in my father's name a few lines, from an Italian author, which seemed to him so appropriate to the situation in which the king is, that he bade me commit them to memory, that I might repeat them to you?”
“These—'Delay is always injurious, and there is no circumstance entirely favourable in any undertaking; he who waits an opportunity perfectly favourable will never undertake anything, or if he does, it will turn out badly.'”
“Yes, sir, the author is Machiavelli. I will pay attention, you may be sure, to the advice of the ambassador of the magnificent republic. But eh! I hear steps on the stairway. It is Gamain. Let us go to meet him, that he may not see that we have not been busied with aught but the drawer.”
As he spoke the king opened the door of the stairway.
It was high time, for with the lock in his hand Gamain stood on the last step.
