Rosette in Peril

A Story of the War of La Vendee

BY

M. LEFUSE

 A loud knocking sounded at the door.

'Jean Paulet,' cried a voice, 'how much longer am I to stand and knock? Unbar the door!'

'Why, it is Monsieur de Marigny!' exclaimed the farmer, and hurried to let his visitor in.

'Ah, Jean Paulet! You are no braver than when I saw you last!' laughed the tall man who entered, wrapped in a great cloak that fell in many folds. 'I see you have not joined those who fight for freedom, but have kept peacefully to your farm. 'Tis a comfortable thing to play the coward in these days! And I would that you would give a little of the comfort to this small comrade of mine.' From beneath the shelter of his cloak a childish face peered out at the farmer and his wife.

'Ah, Monsieur! that is certainly your little Rosette!' exclaimed Madame Paulet. 'Yes, yes, I have heard of her--how you adopted the poor little one when her father was dead of a bullet and her mother of grief and exposure; and how, since, you have loved and cared for her and kept her ever at your side!'

'Well, that is finished. We are on the eve of a great battle--God grant us victory!' he said reverently--'and I have brought the little one to you to pray you guard and shelter her till I return again. What, Jean Paulet! You hesitate? Before this war I was a good landlord to you. Will you refuse this favour to me now?' asked de Marigny, looking sternly down on the farmer from his great height.

'I--I do not say that I refuse--but I am a poor defenceless man; 'tis a dangerous business to shelter rebels--ah, pardon! loyalists--in these times!' stammered Jean Paulet.

'No more dangerous than serving both sides! Some among this republic's officers would give much to know who betrayed them, once, not long ago. You remember, farmer? What if _I_ told tales?' asked de Marigny grimly.

'Eh! but you will not!' exclaimed the terrified man. 'No, no! I am safe in your hands; you are a man of honour, Monsieur--and the child shall stay! Yes, yes; for your sake!'

De Marigny caught up Rosette and kissed her. 'Sweetheart, you must stay here in safety. What? You are 'not afraid to go'? No, but I am afraid to take you, little one. Ah, vex me not by crying; I will soon come to you again!' He took a step towards the farmer. 'Jean Paulet, I leave my treasure in your hands. If aught evil happen to her, I think I should go mad with grief,' he said slowly. 'And a madman is dangerous, my friend; he is apt to be unreasonable, to disbelieve excuses, and to shoot those whom he fancies have betrayed him! So pray you that I find Rosette in safety when I come again. Farewell!'

But before he disappeared into the night, he turned smiling to the child. 'Farewell, little one. In the brighter days I will come for thee again. Forget me not!'

*       *       *       *       *

Round Jean Paulet's door one bright afternoon clustered a troop of the republican soldiers, eyeing indolently the perspiring farmer as he ran to and fro with water for their horses, and sweetening his labours with scraps of the latest news.

'He, Paulet,' suddenly asked the corporal, 'hast heard anything of the rebel General Marigny?'

'No!' replied the farmer hurriedly. 'What should I hear? Is he still alive?'

'Yes, curse him! So, too, is that wretched girl, daughter of a vile aristocrat, that he saved from starvation. Bah! as if starving was not too good a death for her! But there is a price set on Marigny, and a reward would be given for the child too. So some one will soon betray them, and then--why, we will see if they had not rather have starved!' he said ferociously.

 'I--I have heard this Marigny is a brave man,' observed the farmer timidly.

'That is why we want the child! There is nothing would humble him save perchance to find he could not save the child he loves from torture. Ha! ha! we shall have a merry time then!'

'Doubtless this Marigny is no friend to the republic,' said the farmer hesitatingly.

The corporal laughed noisily as he gathered up his horse's reins. 'Head and front of this insurrection--an accursed rebel! But he shall pay for it, he shall pay; and so will all those fools who have helped him!'

And the little band of soldiers rode away, shouting and jesting, leaving Jean Paulet with a heart full of fear.

With trembling fingers he pushed open the house door, and, stepping into the kitchen, found Rosette crouched beneath the open window. 'Heard you what they said--that they are seeking for you?' he gasped.

Rosette nodded. 'They have done that this long time,' she observed coolly.

 'But--but--some time they must find you!' he stammered.

Rosette laughed. 'Perhaps--if I become as stupid a coward as Jean Paulet.'

The farmer frowned. 'I am no coward--I am an experienced man. And I tell you--I, with the weight of forty years behind me--that they will find you some time.'

'And I tell you--I,' mimicked Rosette saucily, 'with the weight of my twelve years behind me--that I have lived through so many perils, I should be able to live through another!'

''Tis just that!' said the farmer angrily. 'You have no prudence; you take too many risks; you expose yourself to fearful dangers.' He shuddered.

'What you fear is that I shall expose you,' returned Rosette cheerfully. 'He, well! a man can but die once, Farmer Paulet.'

'That is just it!' exclaimed the farmer vivaciously. 'If I had six lives I should not mind dying five times; but having only the one, I cannot afford to lose it! And, besides, I have my wife to think of.'

Rosette meditated a moment. 'Better late than never, Farmer Paulet. I have heard tell you never thought of that before.' The sharp little face softened. 'She is a good woman, your wife!'

'True, true! She is a good woman, and you would not care for her to be widowed. Consider if it would not be better if I placed you in safety elsewhere.'

'Jean Paulet! Jean Paulet!' mocked Rosette; 'I doubt if I should do your wife a kindness if I saved your skin.'

Jean Paulet wagged a forefinger at her angrily. 'You will come to a bad end with a tongue like that! If it were not for the respect I owe to Monsieur de Marigny----'

'Marigny's pistol!' interrupted Rosette.

'Ah, bah! What is to prevent my abandoning you?' asked the farmer furiously.

Rosette swung her bare legs thoughtfully. 'Papa Marigny is a man of his word--and you lack five of your half-dozen lives, Jean Paulet.'

'See you it is dangerous!' returned her protector desperately. 'My wife she is not here to advise me; she is in the fields----'

'I have noticed she works hard,' murmured Rosette.

'And I will not keep you here. But for the respect I owe Monsieur de Marigny, I am willing to sacrifice something. I have a dozen of sheep in the field down there--ah! la, la! they represent a lifetime's savings, but I will sacrifice them for my safety--no, no; for Monsieur de Marigny, I mean!' he wailed. 'You shall drive them to the uplands and stay there out of danger. I do not think you will meet with soldiers; but if you do, at the worst they will only take a sheep--ah! my sheep!' he broke off distressfully. 'Now do not argue. Get you gone before my wife returns. See, I will put a little food in this handkerchief. There, you may tell Monsieur de Marigny I have been loyal to him. Go, go! and, above all, remember never to come near me again, or say those sheep are mine. You will be safe, quite safe.'

Rosette laughed. 'You have a kind heart, Jean Paulet,' she mocked. 'But I think perhaps you are right. You are too much of a poltroon to be a safe comrade in adversity.'

She sprang from her chair and ran to the doorway. Then she looked back. 'Hark you, Jean Paulet! This price upon my head--it is a fine price, he? Well, I am little, but I have a tongue, and _I know what my papa de Marigny knows_. Ah! the fine tale to tell, if they catch us! Eh? Farewell.'

She ran lightly across the yard, pausing a moment when a yellow mongrel dog leaped up and licked her chin. 'He, Gegi, you love me better than your master does!' she said, stooping to pat his rough coat. 'And you do not love your master any better than I do, eh? Why, then you had better keep sheep too! There is a brave idea. Come, Gegi, come!' And together they ran off through the sunshine.

*       *       *       *       *

It was very cold that autumn up on the higher lands, very cold and very lonely.

Also several days had passed since Rosette had ventured down to the nearest friendly farm to seek for food, and her little store of provisions was nearly finished.

'You and I must eat, Gegi. Stay with the sheep, little one, while I go and see if I can reach some house in safety.' And, the yellow mongrel offering no objection, Rosette started.

'How am I to Settle it?'

She was not the only person in La Vendee who lacked food. Thousands of loyal peasants starved, and the republican soldiers themselves were not too plentifully supplied. Certainly they grumbled bitterly sometimes, as did that detachment of them who sheltered themselves from the keen wind under the thick hedge that divided the rough road leading to La Plastiere from the fields.

'Bah! we live like pigs in these days!' growled one of the men.

'It is nothing,' said another. 'Think what we shall get at La Plastiere! The village has a few fat farmers, who have escaped pillaging so far by the love they bore, as they said, to the good republic. But that is ended: once we have caught this rascal Marigny in their midst, we can swear they are not good republicans.'

'But,' objected the first speaker, 'they may say they knew nothing of

 this Marigny hiding in the chateau!'

'They may say so--but we need not believe them!' returned his companion.

'Ah, bah! I would believe or not believe anything, so long as it brought us a good meal! How long before we reach this village, comrade?'

'Till nightfall. We would not have Marigny watch our coming. This time we will make sure of the scoundrel.'

Rosette, standing hidden behind the hedge, clenched her hands tightly at the word. She would have given much to have flung it back at the man, but prudence suggested it would be better to be discreet and help Marigny. She turned and ran along under the hedge, and away back to where she had left her little flock, her bare feet falling noiselessly on the damp ground.

'Ah, Gegi!' she panted, flinging herself beside the yellow mongrel, 'the soldiers are very near, and they are going to surprise my beloved papa de Marigny. What must we do, Gegi, you and I, to save him?'

Gegi rolled sharply on to his back and lay staring up at the skies as if he was considering the question. Rosette rested her chin on her drawn-up knees and thought fiercely. She knew in what direction lay the chateau of La Plastiere, and she knew that to reach it she must cross the countryside, and cross, too, in full view of the soldiers below; or else--and that was the shorter way--go along the road by which they encamped.

Rosette frowned. If they spied her skulking in the distance, they would probably conclude she carried a message that might be valuable to them and pursue her. If she walked right through them? Bah! Would they know it was Rosette--Rosette, for whose capture a fine reward would be given?

She did not look much like an aristocrat's child, she thought, glancing at her bare brown legs and feet, and her stained, torn blue frock. Her dark, matted curls were covered with a crimson woollen cap--her every garment would have been suitable for a peasant child's wear; and Rosette was conscious that her size was more like that of a child of seven than that of one of twelve. She had passed unknown through many soldiers--would these have a more certain knowledge of her?

 'Oh, Gegi!' she sighed; 'how am I to settle it?'

Gegi wagged his tail rapidly and encouragingly, but offered no further help.

If she went across country the way was longer far, and there was a big risk. If she went near those soldiers and was known, why, risk would become a certainty. That Death would stare into her face then, none knew better than Rosette; but Death was also very near Rosette's beloved de Marigny, the man who had cared for her and loved her with all the warmth of his big, generous heart.

'Ah! if my papa de Marigny dies, I may as well die too, Gegi,' she whispered wearily. The yellow mongrel cocked one ear with a rather doubtful expression. 'Well, we must take the risk. If papa de Marigny is to live, you and I, Gegi, must take him warning!' Rosette cried, springing to her feet; and Gegi signified his entire approval in a couple of short barks. 'I will take the sheep,' his little mistress murmured; ''tis slower, but they will be so pleased to see them. Poor Jean Paulet!' she thought, with a faint smile.

Gegi bounded lightly through a gap in the hedge, and dashed up to the soldiers inquisitively. With an oath, one of the men hurled a stone at him, which Gegi easily dodged, and another man stretched out his hand for his musket.

'There are worse flavours than dog's meat,' he observed coolly. 'Come, little beast, you shall finish your life gloriously, nourishing soldiers of the republic!' He placed his gun in position.

'He! you leave my dog alone!' called Rosette sharply, as she stepped into the roadway. 'He has the right to live,' she added, as she moved jauntily up to them. Her pert little face showed nothing of the anguish in her heart.

'Not if I want him for my supper,' observed the soldier, grinning at his comrades, who changed their position to obtain a better view of the coming sport.

'But you do not,' corrected Rosette. 'If you need to eat dog, search for the dog of an accursed fugitive!'

The men laughed. 'How do we know this is not one?' they asked.

'I will show you. He, Gegi!' she called, and the dog came and sat in front of her. 'Listen, Gegi. Would you bark for a monarchy?' The yellow mongrel glanced round him indifferently. 'Gegi!' his mistress called imperiously, 'do you cheer for the glorious republic?' And for answer, Gegi flung up his head and barked.

'You see?' asked Rosette, turning to the grinning man. 'He is your brother, that little dog. And you may not eat your brother, you know,' she added gravely.

 'He, by the Mass! whose sheep are those?' cried a soldier suddenly.

'They are mine, or rather they are my master's; I am taking them back to the farm.'

'Why, then, we will spare you the trouble. I hope they, too, are not good republicans,' he jested.

'I have called them after your great leaders--but they do not always answer to their names,' Rosette assured him seriously.

'Then they are only worthy to be executed. Your knife, comrade,' cried one of the men, jumping to his feet. 'What, more of them! Six, seven, eight,' he counted, as the sheep came through the gap. 'Why, 'twill be quite a massacre of traitors.'

'Oh, please! you cannot eat them all! Leave me some, that I may drive back with me, else my master will beat me!' implored Rosette, beginning to fear that her chances of passing towards the far distant village were lessening.

'Your master! Who is your master?'

'He is a farmer down there,' nodding vaguely as she spoke.

'Hark you! Have you by any chance seen a man bigger than the average skulking thereabouts?'

She shook her head. 'There are few big men round here--none so fine as you!' she said prettily.

The man gave a proud laugh. 'Ah! we of Paris are a fine race.'

Rosette nodded. 'My Master is a good republican. You will let me take him back the sheep,' she coaxed.

'Why, those that remain,' the soldier replied, with a grin. 'Sho! sho! Those that run you can follow. Ah, behold!' Rosette needed no second bidding, but started after the remnant of her little troop.

'He!' called one of the soldiers to his comrades--and the wind bore the words to Rosette--'you are fools to let that child pass! For aught we know, she may be spying for the rebels.'

As the men stared after her irresolute, Rosette slackened her pace, flung up her head, and in her clear childish treble began to sing that ferocious chant, then at the height of its popularity, which is now the national hymn of France. So singing, she walked steadily down the long road, hopeful that she might yet save the man who was a father to her.

*       *       *       *       *

It was almost dusk outside the desolate, half-ruined chateau of La Plastiere. Within its walls the shadows of night were already thickly gathered--shadows so dark that a man might have lurked unseen in them. Some such thought came to Rosette as she stood hesitating in the great hall. How silent the place was! The only noises came from without--the wind sobbing strangely in the garden, the ghostly rustling of the leaves, the moan of the dark, swift river. Ah! there was something moving in the great hall! What was it? A rat dashed by, close to Rosette's feet; then the hall settled again into unbroken silence.

The child's heart beat quickly. She hated, feared, the shadows and the quiet.

Yet she must go forward; she dare not call aloud, and she must find de Marigny, if, indeed, he was still there.

She groped her way to the broad stone stairs. How dark it was! She glanced up fearfully. Surely something up above her in the shadow on the stairway moved. She shrank back.

'Coward! little coward!' she muttered. And to scare away her fear she began to sing softly, very softly, a tender little song de Marigny himself had taught to her.

'Stay thy hand, man! It is Rosette!' cried a voice from above her, shattering the silence. And the shadow that had moved before moved again, and a man from crouching on the step rose suddenly in front of her.
 

Flight

'Why did you not speak? I thought we were like to be discovered, and I had nearly killed you. Curse this dark!'

'Hush!' whispered Rosette. 'Hush! you are betrayed! The soldiers are coming. Oh, Papa de Marigny,' she murmured, as he came down the stairway, 'they are to be here at dusk. Is it too late? I tried to get here sooner, but--it was such a long road!' she ended, with a sob.

De Marigny gathered her in his arms. 'And such a little traveller! Never mind, sweetheart, we will cheat them yet,' he said tenderly. 'Warn the others, Lacroix!'

But Lacroix had done that already. The house was full now of stealthy sounds and moving shadows descending the great staircase. De Marigny, carrying Rosette, led the way across the garden behind the house, towards the river that cut the countryside in half. The stillness of the night was broken suddenly by the neighing of a not far distant horse.

'The soldiers! the rebels, papa!' cried Rosette.

De Marigny whispered softly to one of his companions, who ran swiftly away from him, and busied himself drawing from its hiding-place a small boat. They could hear the tramp of horses now, near, very near, and yet the men seated silent in the boat held tightly to the bank.

Hark! The thud, thud of running footsteps came to Rosette, nearer, nearer, and the man for whom they waited sprang from the bank into their midst.

A moment later they were caught by the swift current and carried out into the centre of the broad river.

'Now, if my plan does not miscarry, we are safe!' cried de Marigny exultantly.

'But, papa, dear one, they will follow us across the river and stop our landing!' cried Rosette anxiously.

De Marigny chuckled. 'Providentially the river flows too fast, little one, for man or horse to ford it. The bridge yonder in the field is the only way to cross the river for many miles. And I do not think they will try the bridge, for I was not so foolish as not to prepare for a surprise visit many days ago. Look, little one!' he added suddenly.

Rosette held her breath as away up the river a great flame streamed up through the darkness, followed by a loud explosion, and she saw fragments of wood hurled like playthings high into the air. Some, as they fell again to earth, turned into blazing torches. For far around trees and hedges showed distinctly; the gleaming river, the garden, and the chateau stood out clear in the flaming light.

Round the chateau tore two or three frightened, plunging horses, and the desperate gestures of their riders could easily be seen by Rosette for a moment before their craft was hidden by a turn in the river bank.

*       *       *       *       *

Monsieur de Marigny rejoined the loyalists across the river, and, animated by his presence, the struggle against the republic was resumed with great firmness.

Whenever de Marigny rode among his peasant soldiers, he, their idol, was greeted with many a lively cheer, which yet grew louder and more joyful when he carried before him on his horse Rosette, the brave child who had saved their leader's life at the risk of her own.