Philippa Carr: Zipporah's Daughter

Sophie said: ‘Come, Jeanne.’

She stood by the bed looking down at her brother. ‘Armand,’ she whispered. ‘It is not you?’

‘Yes, Sophie,’ he answered. ‘It is your brother Armand. You see what the Bastille does for a man.’

She fell on to her knees beside the bed.

‘But why? What did they accuse you of … you … ?’

‘There does not have to be an accusation with a lettre de cachet. Someone betrayed me … ’

I interrupted: ‘This is not the time for this talking. I need help in nursing them, Sophie; you and Jeanne must help. We have no servants now. They have all left.’

‘Left? Why?’

‘I think,’ I said wryly, ‘it is because they believe the revolution has come.’

Sophie worked indefatigably - and Jeanne with her; and with their help we managed to make the men reasonably comfortable. Armand was in worse shape. His skin was the colour of dirty paper and his eyes completely lustreless; he had lost most of his hair and his jaws were sunken. Those years he had spent in prison had killed the old Armand and left a feeble old man in his place.

His companion, without whom he would never have been able to make the journey from Paris, was responding to treatment and although very weak still was showing signs of recovery, which was more than we could say of Armand.

He told us that he had found Armand outside the prison when the mob trooped in and he had said that he wanted to get to Aubigné. He himself had nowhere to go so he helped Armand and together they crossed Paris. He described something of the scenes there. The people were in revolt. There were meetings everywhere and crowds formed into mobs who went about looting the shops and attacking anyone who looked worth robbing, shouting as they did so ‘A bas les aristocrats.’

I wouldn’t let him talk too much—and Armand not at all. It excited them and they were both desperately weak.

We couldn’t have managed without the help of Jeanne and Sophie. Tante Berthe was very good at knowing what could best be done, and cooking the little food we ate. Lisette was less energetic than the rest of us but she comforted us in a way because she refused to be gloomy and insisted that in time everything would come right.

I had abandoned all thought of leaving France since the arrival of Armand and his companion. I was needed here and I doubted in any case that with the country in the state it was I should be allowed to get very far.

Nothing happened for several days and I was beginning to feel that we should be left alone. There was rioting in Paris.’ There was a revolution in progress, Lisette said; but here, apart from the fact that we had no servants, everything was at least peaceful.

Lisette said to me: ‘Let’s go into the town. We might find out what is happening there and perhaps buy some food.’

I agreed that it was a good idea.

‘It is better for us to look like servants,’ she said. ‘Some of them left in such a hurry that they went without all their clothes. We could find something to wear.’

‘Do you think that is necessary?’

‘A precaution.’

She laughed at me in the dress which I had put on.

‘It reminds me of the time we went to see Madame Rougemont. Ah, no longer the grand lady. Not the Comte’s daughter but a simple serving-maid.’

‘Well, you look the same.’

‘I am, after all, only the niece of the housekeeper. Come on.’

We took two ponies from the stables and rode in on them. It was all there was. The grooms who had left had taken the horses with them. On the outskirts of the town we tied up the ponies and went in on foot.

Crowds were gathering.

‘It looks as though it is a special sort of day,’ said Lisette with a smile.

We passed through the crowd in our simple dresses and the only glances which came our way were those which some men give to women who could be called young and good-looking.

‘It seems as if something special is about to take place,’ I said.

‘Probably someone coming from Paris to speak to them. Look! There is a platform set up in the square.’

‘Shouldn’t we try to buy some food?’ I asked.

‘Haven’t you noticed most of the shops are boarded up?’

‘Surely they are not afraid of a riot here!’

‘Aubigné country is not sacred any more, Lottie.’

She gave a laugh as she said that and I looked at her quickly. Her eyes were shining with excitement.

There was a hush in the crowd as a man began to mount to his rostrum. I stared at him. I knew him at once. L é on Blanchard.

‘But what … ’ I began.

‘Hush,’ whispered Lisette. ‘He is going to speak.’

A cheer went up in the crowd. He raised his hand and there was a deep silence. Then he began to speak.

‘Citizens, the day has come. That which has long been due to us is almost within our grasp. The aristocrats who have ruled us … who have lived in luxury while we starved … the aristocrats who for generations have made us their slaves … are now being conquered. We are the masters now.’

There was a deafening cheer. He held up his hand again.

‘But we are not yet there, comrades. There is work to be done. We have to rout them out of their haunts of luxury and vice. We have to cleanse those haunts. We have to remember that God gave France to the people. What they have used for centuries now belongs to us … if we take it. You have lived your lives in the shadow of the great château. You have slaved for your masters. They have kept you in a state of servile starvation to make you work the harder for them. You have lived in fear. Citizens, I tell you, that is over. It is your turn now. The revolution is upon us. We shall take their châteaux, their gold, their silver, their food, their wine. We shall no longer live on mouldy bread for which we have to pay those hard-earned sous and of which we have often not had enough to buy even that. We will march as the good citizens of Paris have shown us how to. Citizens, it is happening all over the country. We will march on the Château d’Aubigné. We will take that which is ours by right.’

While he was talking understanding flashed upon me. He was the man the Comte and I had seen all those years ago. No wonder I had felt I had seen him before. I had not completely recognized him, for when I had first seen him he had been dressed like a peasant, as he was now. He wore a dark wig which slightly changed his appearance. He did not look quite like the gentleman who had come to tutor our boys. But it was the same man. Dickon had been right. He was an agitator in the service of the Duc d’Orléans whose plan was to bring about a revolution so that he might step into the King’s shoes. As Dickon had said, Blanchard was an Orléanist. The Duc de Soissonson was too and he had come to Aubigné to investigate Armand’s band which had resulted in Armand’s receiving his lettre de cachet … arranged no doubt by men in high places. Orléans … Soissonson …

‘It is monstrous,’ I said.

‘Hush!’ warned Lisette.

I turned to her. She was staring at Léon Blanchard as though entranced.

I whispered: ‘We must get back quickly. We must warn them … ’

‘Are you ready, Citizens?’ asked Blanchard; and there was a roar from the crowd.

‘In good order then we will assemble here at dusk. These duties are best carried out at night.’

I felt as though I was choking. I wanted to shout: This man is a traitor. My father was always good to his people. Our servants lived well. How dare you say we starved them! My father always cared for their welfare. They were never given mouldy bread. And Léon Blanchard, wicked traitor that he was, lived with us … as a member of the family when he deceived us and played the part of tutor.