LET US SEE WHAT, during this time of agony, the Marquis de Bouille was doing.
At nine o'clock, that is to say, at the moment the fugitives approached Clermont, the marquis left Stenay with his son, and advanced towards Dun to be nearer the king.
When just a quarter of a league from that city, he feared lest his presence should be remarked, and hurried with his companions off the road-side, establishing himself in a ditch. He waited there. It was the hour when, in all probability, the courier of the king would appear.
In such circumstances moments seemed hours, and hours centuries. They heard the clock strike slowly, and with an impassivity which they would fain have attuned to the pulsation of their own hearts, ten—eleven—twelve—one—two—and three.
Day dawned between two and three, during which time the slightest sound was observable, whether any one either approached or left them, and brought hope or despair.
The little band began to despair.
M, de Bouille fancied that some grave accident had occurred, but being ignorant what, he resolved to regain Stenay, that, being in the centre of his command, he might provide against it as well as possible. He was only a quarter of a league distant, when M. de Bouille looked back and saw the dust raised by the rapid approach of many horses.
As they came, they doubted no longer. The persons were Jules de Bouille and De Raigecourt.
The little troop advanced to meet them.
Every mouth then asked in each troop the same question, and each made the same reply.
“The king had been arrested at Varennes.”
The news was terrible. It was especially terrible, as the two young men who were at the Hotel Grand Monarque, awaiting the king with the bags, suddenly found themselves in the midst of an insurrection, and compelled to fly without any exact news.
Terrible as it was, though, all hope was not lost. M. de Bouille, like all old officers who rely on discipline, fancied that every order had been executed.
If the king had been arrested at Varennes, the different posts which had been ordered to follow him had reached that city.
These were composed of thirty of Lauzun's hussars, commanded by De Choiseul.
The thirty dragoons of Clermont, commanded by Damas.
The sixty hussars of Varennes, commanded by MM. de Bouille and de Raigecourt, whom the young men had not been able to inform of their departure, but who had remained under the command of De Rohrig.
True, they had not confided everything to De Rohrig, who was but twenty; but he would receive orders either from De Choiseul, Dandoins, or Damas, and would join his men to those who came to aid the king.
The king would then have with him sixty hussars and a hundred and sixty or eighty dragoons.
Tin's was force enough to repress the insurrections of a little town of eighteen hundred souls.
We have seen how events had marred the strategic calculations of M. de Bouille. The security he felt was about to he attacked seriously. While De Bouille and De Raigecourt were talking to the general, a horse approached at full gallop. All looked and recognised De Rohrig.
The general rode rapidly towards him. He was in one of those happy humours when a man is glad to have some one to find fault with.
“What does this mean, sir?” asked the general. “Why have you left your post?”
“Excuse me, general!—by order of M. Damas.”
“Well, is Damas at Varennes with his dragoons?”
“He is at Varennes without any force but an officer, an adjutant, and three or four men.”
“And where is Dandoins, with his men?”
“They are prisoners at St. Menehould.”
“But Choiseul and his men are there with his troops and yours?”
“The hussars of Choiseul have joined the people, and now shout, 'Vive la Nation!' My hussars are shut up in their barracks by the National Guard at Varennes.”
“And you did not place yourself at their head, and charge that rabble? you did not hurry to your king?”
“You forget, general, that I had no orders; that MM. de Bouille and De Raigecourt were my superiors, and that I was utterly ignorant that the king was expected.”
“That is true,” said De Bouille and De Raigecourt, thus doing homage to truth.
“The first noise I heard,” said the young subaltern, “I went into the street and inquired, and heard that a carriage, said to contain the royal family, had been arrested a quarter of an hour before, and that the inmates had been taken to the house of the procureur. There was a great crowd. The drums beat and the tocsin was sounded. Amid all this tumult, some one touched my shoulder, and I looked round. It was Damas, with a frock over his uniform. 'Are you in command of the hussars of Varennes?' said he. 'Yes,' I replied.—'You know me?'—'You are Count Charles de Damas.'—'Well, get on horseback at once, and ride to Dun—to Stenay, and find the Marquis de Bouille. Say that Dandoins and his men are prisoners at St. Menehould, and that my dragoons have mutinied. Say that Choiseul's men threaten to join the people, and that the king and royal family are prisoners, and that there is no hope but in him.' I thought that I could say nothing to such an order, but that it was my duty to obey it blindly. I got on my horse, and rode as rapidly as I could to this place.”
“Yes, that he would use every means to gain time to enable you, general, to reach Varennes.”
“Forward!” said the general; each, I see, has done the best he could. Let us do our best, also.”
Turning to Count Louis, he said:
“Louis, I remain here. These gentlemen will take the different orders I give. The detachments at Mouza and Dun will march at once on Varennes, and, taking possession of the passage of the Meuse, will commence the attack. Rohrig, give this order, and say they will soon be sustained.”
The young man rode rapidly towards Dun.
“Raigecourt, go to the Swiss regiment of Castello, which is en route for Stenay. Wherever you find it, tell the state of affairs and urge it on. Tell the commandant he must double its pace.”
Having seen the young officer ride in an opposite direction to that De Rohrig had taken, he turned to his son:
“Jules,” said he, “change your horse at Stenay, and go to Montmedy. Tell Klenglin to march his regiment of Nassau infantry to Dun, and to go himself to Stenay.”
The young man saluted and left.
“Louis,” said De Bouille, “the royal Germans are at Stenay?”
“They were ordered to be ready at dawn?”
“I gave the order to the colonel myself.”
“Bring them to me. I will await them on the roadside. Perhaps I may have other news. The regiment is true, think you?”
“It is enough, then—we will march on Varennes.”
Count Louis set out. Ten minutes after he re-appeared.
“The Royal Germans follow me!” said he.
“You found them, then, ready to march?”
“No—to my great surprise. The commandant must have misunderstood my order, for I found him in bed. He got up, however, and promised to go to the barracks himself to hurry their departure. Fearing that you would become impatient, I came to account for the delay.”
“Very well,” said the general, “he will come?”
“He said that he would follow me.”
They waited ten minutes—a quarter of an hour—and then twenty minutes, but no one came. The general became impatient, and looked at his son.
“I will go back, father,” said he.
Forcing his horse into a gallop, he returned to the city. Long as the time appeared to General de Bouille, it had been badly used by the commandant. Only a very few men were ready, and the young officer, complaining bitterly, renewed the general's order, and on a positive promise of the commandant that the regiment would follow in ten minutes, he returned to his father.
As he returned, he observed that the gate, which he had passed four times, was in charge of the National Guard.
He waited again for five minutes—ten minutes—a quarter of an hour—but no one came. Nearly an hour had passed, and M. de Bouille ordered his son to go the third time to Stenay, and not to come back without the regiment. Count Louis left in a perfect rage. When he reached the square, his ill-temper increased. Scarcely fifty men were mounted.
He took those fifty men and occupied the gate, thus assuring himself free ingress and egress. He then went to the general, who yet waited for him, saying he was followed by the commandant and his soldiers.
He thought so: but not until he was about to enter the city for the fourth time did he see the head of the Royal Germans.
Under any other circumstances, M. de Bouille would have had the commandant arrested by his own men, but now he feared to offend the officers and soldiers. He therefore simply reproved the colonel for his dilatoriness, and harangued the soldiers. He told them for what an honourable duty they were intended, as not only the liberty, but the life of the king and royal family were at stake. He promised the officers honours, the soldiers rewards, and distributed a hundred louis to the latter.
The discourse and peroration produced the intended effect. An immense cry of “Vive le roi!” was heard, and the regiment at full trot set out for Varennes.
At Dun, guarding the bridge over the Mense, was a detachment of thirty men, which M. Deslon, when he left Charny, had posted there. The men were rallied, and they moved on.
They had to travel eight leagues through a mountainous country, and they could not march as rapidly as they wished; it was also necessary that the soldiers should be in a condition to stand a shock or a charge.
It was, however, evident that they were in a hostile country, for in the villages, on either side, the tocsin was heard, and in advance something like a fusilade.
At Grange le Bois, a horseman, bareheaded, seemed to devour the road, and made frequent tokens of anxiety to meet them.
The regiment quickened its pace.
This person was the Count de Charny.
“To the king! gentlemen; to the king!” said he, lifting his hand and rising in his saddle.
“To the king!” cried the officers and soldiers.
Charny took his place in the ranks, and briefly explained the state of affairs. The king, when the count left, was at Varennes.
The horses are very much fatigued, but it matters not. The horses have had hay; the men are heated with the hundred louis of M. de Bouille.
The regiment advances like a hurricane and cries “Long live the king!”
This priest is constitutional. He sees this regiment rushing towards Varennes.
“Go! go!” says he. “Fortunately, however, you will come too late.”
The Count de Bouille hears, and rushes on him with his sabre uplifted.
“Boy! boy!” says his father,” what would you do?”
The young count sees that he is about to kill an unarmed man, and that man, too, a priest. The crime would be double. He takes his foot from the stirrup and kicks the priest.
“You come too late,” says the priest, as he rolls in the dust.
They continue their journey, cursing this prophet of misfortune.
In the meantime they gradually approached the place where the shots were fired. M. Deslon and his seventy hussars were skirmishing with nearly the same number of National Guards. These the guard charged, dispersed them and passed through.
There they learned from M. Deslon that the king left Varennes at eight in the morning. M. Bouille took out his watch. It wanted five minutes of nine.
“Well, all hope is not lost. We must not attempt to go through the city. The streets will be barricaded. We will go around Varennes.”
They turn to the right—the situation of the country makes the left impossible; they have the river to cross, but it is fordable.
They leave Varennes on the right, and ride through the fields. On the road to Clermont they will attack the escort, whatever be its force, and rescue the king or die.
Two-thirds of the distance from the city, they come to the river. Charny dashes into it, followed by the De Bouilles. The officers come next, and then the troopers. The stream is hidden by the uniforms. In ten minutes all have crossed. The cool water has refreshed officers and men; and they gallop on towards Clermont.
All at once Charny, who had preceded the regiment, paused. He was on the brink of a masked canal, the top of the wall being level with the ground. This canal he had forgotten, though it was laid down in the map. It is several leagues long, and everywhere presents the same difficulties.
Unless crossed at once, it could not be crossed at all. Charny set the example. He first rushed into the water. The canal was not fordable, but the count's horse swam towards the other shore. The bank, though, was steep, and the horse's shoes could not take hold.
Two or three times Charny sought to ascend, but in spite of all the skill of the rider, his horse, after desperate efforts, which were so intelligent as to seem almost human, slid back for want of a foothold into the water, panting and nearly drowning. Charny saw that what his horse, a thorough-bred animal, could not do, four hundred troop-horses dare not attempt.
He had failed, therefore. Fatality was too powerful. The king and queen were lost, and he had but one thing left to do—die with them.
He made a last effort; but, like the others, it was useless. He contrived, however, to bury his sabre half its length in the glacis.
This sabre remained there as a point d'appui, useless for his horse, but valuable to himself.
In fact, Charny deserted his stirrup and swam towards the sabre—grasping it, after a few efforts, he obtained a foothold.
He looked back and saw Bouille and his son weeping with rage; the soldiers moody and motionless, seeing, after Charny's effort, how vain it would be for them to seek to cross what he could not.
M. de Bouille wrung his hands in despair. He, who had hitherto succeeded in every enterprise, all of whose deeds were crowned with success, who had acquired in the army the name of the “happy Bouille,” said sadly:
“Oh, gentlemen, tell me now if I am happy!”
“No, general,” said Charny, from the other bank, “but I will say that you have done all that man could do; when I say so, I shall be believed. Adieu, general!”
On foot across the fields, covered with mud, dripping with water, unarmed, for his pistols were wet, Charny took his way and disappeared among the trees which, like advanced sentinels, appeared here and there on the road.
This road was that by which the king and royal family were being taken. He had only to follow to overtake them.
Before he did so, he looked back, and on the banks of the accursed canal saw Bouille and his troop, who though unable to advance, would not retreat. He made them one last signal, and then, rapidly turning a corner, disappeared.
He had to guide him only the immense noise proceeding from the cries, shouts, and menaces of ten thousand men.
