第171章 THE CONSULTATION.(3)

"He is neither deaf nor dumb," said the doctor, solemnly. "He is simply a good son, who would not sing the song which made sport of his noble and unfortunate mother. See whether I am not right: see these tears which run from his closed eyes. He has heard us, he has understood us, and he answers us with his tears! Oh, sire," he continued passionately, "by the sacred remembrance of your father and your mother, I swear devotion to you until death; I swear that I have come to set you free, to die for you. Look up, my king and my darling one! I intrust to you and to both these witnesses my whole secret; I let the mask fall to show myself to you in my true form, that you may confide in me, and know that the most devoted of your servants is kneeling before you, and that he dedicates his life to you. Open your eyes, Louis of France, and see whether you know me!"

He sprang up, threw off the great peruke, and the long black cloak, and stood before them in the uniform of an official guard.

"Thunder and guns!" cried Simon, with a loud laugh. "it is--"

"Hush!" interrupted the other--"hush! He alone shall declare who I am! Oh, look at me, my king; convince these unbelieving ones here that your mind is clear and strong, and that you are conscious of what is going on around you. Look at me, and if you know me, speak my name!"

And with folded hands, in unspeakable emotion, he leaned over the bed of the child, that still lay with closed eyes.

"I knew that he could hear nothing, and that he was deaf," growled Simon, while his wife folded her trembling hands, and with tearful eyes whispered a prayer.

A deep silence ensued, and with anxious expectation each looked at the boy. At length he slowly raised the heavy, reddened eyelids, and looked with a timid, anxious glance around himself. Then his gaze fixed itself upon the eloquent, speaking face of the man whose tears were falling like warm dew-drops upon his pale, sunken features.

A quiver passed over the coutenance of the boy, a beam of joy lighted up his eyes, and something like a smile played around his trembling lips.

"Do you know me? Do you know my name?"

The child raised his hand in salutation, and said, in a clear, distinct voice: "Toulan! Fidele!"

Toulan fell on his knees again and covered the little thin hand of the boy with his tears and his kisses.

"Yes, Fidele," he sobbed. "That is the title of honor which your royal mother gave me--that is the name that she wrote on the bit of paper which she put into the gold smelling-bottle that she gave me.

That little bottle, which a queen once carried, is my most precious possession, and yet I would part with that if I could save the life of her son, happy if I could but retain the hallowed paper on which the queen's hand wrote the word 'Fidele.' Yes, you poor, pitiable son of kings, I am Fidele, I am Toulan, at whom you have so often laughed when he played with you in your prison."

A flash like the sunlight passed over the face of the child, and a smile illumined his features.

"She used to laugh, too," he whispered--"she, too, my mamma queen."

"Yes, she too laughed at our jests," said Toulan, with a voice choked with tears; "and, believe me, she looks down from heaven upon us and smiles her blessing, for she knows that Toulan has come to free her dear son, and to deliver him from the executioner's hands.

Tell me now, my king and my dearly-loved lord, will you trust me, will you give to your most devoted servant and subject the privilege of releasing you? Do you consent to accept freedom at the hands of your Fidele?"

The child threw a timid, anxious glance at Simon and his wife, and then, with a shudder, turned his head to one side.

"You make no answer, sire," said Toulan, imploringly. "Oh! speak, my king, may I set you free?"

The boy spoke a few words in reply, but so softly that Toulan could not understand him. He stooped down nearer to him, and put his ear close to the lips of the child. He then could hear the words, inaudible to all but him, "He will disclose you; take care, Toulan. But do not say any thing, else he will beat me to death!"

Toulan made no reply; he only impressed a long, tender kiss upon the trembling hand of the child.

"Did he speak?" asked Simon. "Did you understand, citizen, what he said?"

"Yes, I understood him," answered Toulan. "He consents; he allows me to make every attempt to free him, and is prepared to do every thing that we ask of him. And now I ask you too, are you prepared to help me release the prince?"

"You know already, Toulan," said Simon, quickly, "that we are prepared for every thing, provided that our conditions are fulfilled. Give me a tolerable position outside of the Temple; give me a good bit of money, so that I may live free from care, and if the new place should not suit me, that I could go into the country, and not have to work at all; give my Jeanne Marie her health and cheerfulness again, and I will help you set young Capet free."

"Through my assistance, and that of Doctor Naudin, you shall have a good place outside of the Temple," answered Toulan, eagerly.

"Besides this, at the moment when you deliver the prince into my hands, outside of this prison, I will pay you in ready money the sum of twenty thousand francs; and as for the third condition, that about restoring her health to Jeanne Marie, I am sure that I can fulfil this condition too. Do you not know, Simon, what your wife is suffering from? Do you not know what her sickness is?"

"No, truly not. I am no doctor. How should I know what her sickness is?"

"Then I will tell you, Citizen Simon. Your wife is suffering from the worst of all complaints, a bad conscience! Yes, it is a bad conscience that robs her of her sleep and rest; it is that which makes her see the white, pale form of the martyred queen in the night, and read the word 'murderer' in her eyes."