Zipporah's Daughter полностью

‘Ah, be careful of Madame la Comtesse,’ said one of the men ironically.

‘I am the Comte’s daughter,’ said Lisette, ‘but I am with you. I worked with Monsieur Léon Blanchard.’

‘They are on our side now it is good to be so,’ said another of the men. ‘It used to be a different story.’

They started to hustle Lisette out of the room. She turned and pointed to me: ‘That is the acknowledged daughter of the Comte,’ she cried.

‘Yes,’ said one of the men. ‘I know her. I’ve seen her with the Comte. Don’t take any notice of her dress. That is put on to deceive us.’

I realized then that I was still wearing the servant’s dress which I had put on that morning and what a contrast I must make to Lisette in her finery.

The men were looking at the others in the room. They shrugged their shoulders. Then, dragging Lisette and me with them, they went out of the room.

What happened afterwards still bewilders me.

I can remember being dragged through the crowds; I remember the abuse, most of it directed towards Lisette. How foolish she had been to dress up as she had!

The flare of the torches, the sight of dark menacing eyes, the dirty clenched fists which were brandished close to my face, the painful grip on my arms, the moment when someone spat in my face … they are scenes from a nightmare which would spring up suddenly and carry me back all through my life to that fearful night.

We were forced into a wagonette which was drawn by a mangy-looking horse.

And thus we drove through the mob into the town.

There followed the strangest night I have ever spent. We were driven to the mairie and there hustled out of the cart and taken to a small room on the first floor which looked down on the street.

We were fortunate in as much as these people were unaware of their power at this time. The revolution which had been rumbling for so long had only just broken out and among those men who carried us to the mairie were some who, a short time before, had been known as respectable citizens of the town … shopkeepers and the like. They were unsure of what reprisals might be taken. They knew that there were risings all over Paris but they must have wondered what would happen to them if the risings were suppressed and the aristocrats were in power again.

The mob would have taken us to the lamp-post and hanged us right away, but there were several who advised a certain restraint. The Mayor himself was uncertain. For centuries the Aubigné family had been the power in the neighbourhood. It was early days and they could not be sure that that power was broken; they were not yet accustomed to the new order. And the more sober men of the town were very much afraid of retaliation.

The mob had surrounded the mairie and were demanding that we be brought out. They wanted to see our bodies swinging on the lanternes.

I wondered what was happening back at the château.

Were they safe there? Armand and his friend were not recognizable; poor Sophie’s face had probably saved her. This was a revolt against those who had what the mob wanted. Nobody wanted what those sickly men or poor scarred Sophie had. There was nothing to envy in them. It was different with Lisette and me. They did not believe Lisette. She had miscalculated badly, and if she had not been so anxious to prove herself an aristocrat she would have realized what a very dangerous position she was placing herself in.

There were no chairs in the room, so we lay on the floor.

‘I wish that scum would stop shouting,’ said Lisette.

‘You have been so stupid,’ I told her. ‘There was no need for it. You could be back at the château now.’

‘I am who I am and will bear the consequences for that.’

‘Poor Lisette, why do you care so much?’

‘Of course I cared. I was one of you. The fact that I wasn’t recognized doesn’t change that. Léon will save me, you see, and there will be those who will have to answer for the way they have treated me.’

I did not reply. There was nothing to say. Lisette cared more for her birth than she did for her life since she was ready to risk it to convince herself that she was of noble birth.

I saw clearly then how it had obsessed her, how she had believed it—perhaps forced herself to believe it—all those years. She had let the resentment build up to such an extent that it was beyond everything else. She could not face the fact now that she must know it was not to be true. She had to go on believing … even if it cost her her life.

The noise outside seemed to have abated a little. I stood up and looked out. I turned away quickly. They were still there, waiting for us to be brought out.

‘Lisette,’ I said, ‘tell them the truth. They may believe you. It is madness to go on proclaiming that you are an aristocrat and are proud of it. You are saying you are their enemy. They hate us. Don’t you see? They hate us because we have what they have always wanted. Don’t you understand that?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I see it, but it doesn’t alter anything.’