Zipporah's Daughter полностью

I went to the window and looked out. My eyes went to the lamp-post with its faint light which showed me the dark liquid running over the cobbles. I saw that it came from the wine shop into which the mob had broken. Some men were squatting on the cobbles scooping up the puddles with their hands and holding their hands to their lips. I heard a woman start to sing in a high-pitched, quavering voice and a man brusquely and crudely telling her to shut up.

Many of them were drunk. Some were propped up against walls. But they were keeping their vigil at the mairie. They had had one spectacle tonight and they were waiting in anticipation for another. The signal would come and they would storm the mairie.

I could not bear to look at them. I sat down and leaned against the wall with my eyes closed. If only I could sleep away the time until they came for me …

I wondered how long it took for death to come.

‘Quickly, please God,’ I prayed.

The door opened quietly. A man came in. I started to my feet, a sick feeling of horror enveloping me. The moment had come.

It was the Mayor who faced me.

He said: ‘You are to leave here.’

‘Leave here … ’

He put his fingers to his lips. ‘Don’t speak. Obey orders. The mob is quieter now but still in an ugly mood. I don’t want to have to tell them that you are being taken to a prison outside the town. They would not allow you to go. They are determined to hang you. Here … follow me.’

‘But where … where am I going?’

‘I told you to be silent. If the mob get wind that you are leaving they will tear you to pieces. They are bent on seeing the end of Aubigné.’

I followed him down the stairs. We were in a courtyard at the back of the mairie where a coach was waiting. It was shabby and enclosed. A bearded driver, wearing a coat and muffled up about the neck in spite of the weather, was seated in the driving seat. He was holding a whip in his right hand and did not turn as I came out of the mairie.

‘Get in,’ said the Mayor.

‘I want to know where you are taking me.’

I was given a rough push. ‘Be silent,’ hissed the Mayor. ‘Do you want to bring the mob down on you?’

I was pushed inside the coach and the door shut on me. The Mayor lifted his hand and the coach jolted forward.

We had to come round to the front of the mairie and as the coach rattled into the square a cry went up.

‘A carriage? Who rides in a carriage?’

The driver whipped up the horses. I heard the shouts of rage and guessed that the mob was trying to stop the coach.

I lurched from side to side. The driver drove like a madman.

Someone called out: ‘Who is this rogue? Who is in the carriage?’

For a few terrifying moments I thought we were going to be brought to a halt. I could imagine the fury of the people if they discovered who was inside and that an attempt was being made to cheat them of their spectacle.

The driver was silent. He just drove on. We were through the square. The coach gathered speed. Some of the people were running after us and, glancing through the window, I caught a glimpse of angry faces very close.

The coach lurched and trundled on; and the shouts of the people grew fainter. We had left the town behind. Still the driver went on driving with a furious speed so that I was thrown from side to side of the padded vehicle.

Suddenly we stopped. We were close to a wood from which a man emerged leading two horses.

The driver leaped down from his seat and pulled open the door of the coach. He signed for me to get out, which I did. I could scarcely see his face, so heavily bearded was he and he wore a scarf high round his neck.

He looked back the way we had come. The country road seemed very quiet and the first streak of dawn was in the sky.

Then he took off his scarf and pulled at the hair about his face. It came off in his hand and he grinned at me.

‘Dickon!’ I said.

‘I thought you might be rather pleased to see me. Now, no time to lose. Get on that horse,’ he said to me; and to the man: ‘Thank you. We’ll get off now for the coast as fast as we can.’

A wild exhilaration had taken possession of me. I felt faint with emotion; the transformation from terrible despair to wild joy was too sudden. Dickon was here. I was safe and Dickon had saved me.

We rode all through the morning. He would say little except: ‘I want to be out of this accursed country by tomorrow. With luck we’ll catch the paquet. It means riding through the night but we can make it.’