The Hero of the People: A Historical Romance of Love, Liberty and Loyalty

“Do you refuse to accompany me?”

“No, but – “

“Come.”

No one saw them leave the farm and both disappeared in the valley.

God only knew the refuge of Catherine Billet!

All night a dreadful storm raged in the heart of the injured father. Something vital seemed to snap in the mighty frame of the man when he returned emptyhanded to see that his daughter had taken to flight.

When he came home at nine as usual to breakfast, his wife said. “Where is our Catherine?”

“Catherine?” he said with an effort. “The air is bad on the farm and I sent her over to her aunt’s in Sologne.”

“Good, she wanted a change. Will she make a long stay?”

“Till she gets better.”

Drying her tears the good woman went to sit in the chimney corner while her husband rode off into the fields.

Dr. Raynal had passed a restless night also. He was roused by Viscount Charny’s lackey pulling at his nightbell and, riding over to Boursonne, found that he had a couple of bullets in his side. Neither wound was dangerous, though one was serious. In three calls he set him up again; but he had to wear a bandage for a time, which did not prevent him riding out. Nobody had an idea of his accident.

It was time for him to be healed – time to return to Paris!

Mirabeau had promised the Queen to save her, and she wrote to her brother on the Austrian throne:

“I follow your counsel. I am making use of Mirabeau but there is nothing of weight in my relations with him.”

On the following day, he saw groups on the way to the Assembly and went up to learn the nature of the outcries.

Little newsheets were passing from hand to hand and newsdealers were calling out:

“Buy the Great Treason of Mirabeau!”

“It seems this concerns me,” he said, taking a piece of money out. “My friend,” he said to one of the venders who had a donkey carrying panniers full of the sheets, “how much is this Great Treason of Mirabeau?”

“Nothing to you, my lord,” replied the man, looking him in the eye, “and it is struck off in an edition of one hundred thousand.”

The orator went away thoughtful. A lampoon in such an edition and given away by a newsman who knew him!

Still the sheet might be one of those catchpennys which abounded at that epoch, stupid or spiteful. No, it was the list of his debts, accurate, and the note that their 200,000 francs had been paid by the Queen’s almoner on a certain date; also the statement that the court paid him six thousand francs per month. Lastly the account of his reception by the Queen.

What mysterious enemy pursued him, or rather pursued the monarchy like a hellhound?

This is what we shall learn, with many another secret which none but Cagliostro the superhuman might divine, in the sequel to this volume entitled “The Royal Lifeguard.”

THE END