el dorado-第33章
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〃It is not the hourquoi？〃 the soldier remarked with laconic
philosophy。
It apparently was not the hour when the prison registers were
placed at the disposal of the public。 After much fruitless
inquiry； Armand at last was informed by a bon bourgeois； who was
wandering about the house of Justice and who seemed to know its
multifarious rules； that the prison registers all over Paris could
only be consulted by the public between the hours of six and seven
in the evening。
There was nothing for it but to wait。 Armand； whose temples were
throbbing； who was footsore； hungry； and wretched； could gain
nothing by continuing his aimless wanderings through the
labyrinthine building。 For close upon another hour he stood with
his face glued against the ironwork which separated him from the
female prisoners' courtyard。 Once it seemed to him as if from its
further end he caught the sound of that exquisitely melodious
voice which had rung forever in his ear since that memorable
evening when Jeanne's dainty footsteps had first crossed the path
of his destiny。 He strained his eyes to look in the direction
whence the voice had come； but the centre of the courtyard was
planted with a small garden of shrubs； and Armand could not see
across it。 At last； driven forth like a wandering and lost soul；
he turned back and out into the streets。 The air was mild and
damp。 The sharp thaw had persisted through the day； and a thin；
misty rain was falling and converting the ill…paved roads into
seas of mud。
But of this Armand was wholly unconscious。 He walked along the
quay holding his cap in his hand； so that the mild south wind
should cool his burning forehead。
How he contrived to kill those long； weary hours he could not
afterwards have said。 Once he felt very hungry； and turned almost
mechanically into an eating…house； and tried to eat and drink。
But most of the day he wandered through the streets； restlessly；
unceasingly； feeling neither chill nor fatigue。 The hour before
six o'clock found him on the Quai de l'Horloge in the shadow of
the great towers of the Hall of Justice； listening for the clang
of the clock that would sound the hour of his deliverance from
this agonising torture of suspense。
He found his way to La Tournelle without any hesitation。 There
before him was the wooden box； with its guichet open at last； and
two stands upon its ledge； on which were placed two huge
leather…bound books。
Though Armand was nearly an hour before the appointed time； he saw
when he arrived a number of people standing round the guichet。
Two soldiers were there keeping guard and forcing the patient；
long…suffering inquirers to stand in a queue； each waiting his or
her turn at the books。
It was a curious crowd that stood there； in single file； as if
waiting at the door of the cheaper part of a theatre； men in
substantial cloth clothes； and others in ragged blouse and
breeches； there were a few women； too； with black shawls on their
shoulders and kerchiefs round their wan； tear…stained faces。
They were all silent and absorbed； submissive under the rough
handling of the soldiery； humble and deferential when anon the
clerk of the registers entered his box； and prepared to place
those fateful books at the disposal of those who had lost a loved
onefather； brother； mother； or wifeand had come to search
through those cruel pages。
From inside his box the clerk disputed every inquirer's right to
consult the books； he made as many difficulties as he could；
demanding the production of certificates of safety； or permits
from the section。 He was as insolent as he dared； and Armand from
where he stood could see that a continuous if somewhat thin stream
of coppers flowed from the hands of the inquirers into those of
the official。
It was quite dark in the passage where the long queue continued to
swell with amazing rapidity。 Only on the ledge in front of the
guichet there was a guttering tallow candle at the disposal of the
inquirers。
Now it was Armand's turn at last。 By this time his heart was
beating so strongly and so rapidly that he could not have trusted
himself to speak。 He fumbled in his pocket； and without unnecessary
preliminaries he produced a small piece of silver； and pushed it
towards the clerk； then he seized on the register marked 〃Femmes〃
with voracious avidity。
The clerk had with stolid indifference pocketed the half…livre； he
looked on Armand over a pair of large bone…rimmed spectacles； with
the air of an old hawk that sees a helpless bird and yet is too
satiated to eat。 He was apparently vastly amused at Armand's
trembling hands； and the clumsy； aimless way with which he fingered
the book and held up the tallow candle。
〃What date？〃 he asked curtly in a piping voice。
〃What date？〃 reiterated Armand vaguely。
〃What day and hour was she arrested？〃 said the man； thrusting his
beak…like nose closer to Armand's face。 Evidently the piece of
silver had done its work well； he meant to be helpful to this
country lout。
〃On Friday evening；〃 murmured the young man。
The clerk's hands did not in character gainsay the rest of his
appearance； they were long and thin； with nails that resembled the
talons of a hawk。 Armand watched them fascinated as from above
they turned over rapidly the pages of the book； then one long；
grimy finger pointed to a row of names down a column。
〃If she is here；〃 said the man curtly； 〃her name should be amongst
these。〃
Armand's vision was blurred。 He could scarcely see。 The row of
names was dancing a wild dance in front of his eyes； perspiration
stood out on his forehead； and his breath came in quick；
stertorous gasps。
He never knew afterwards whether he actually saw Jeanne's name
there in the book； or whether his fevered brain was playing his
aching senses a cruel and mocking trick。 Certain it is that
suddenly amongst a row of indifferent names hers suddenly stood
clearly on the page； and to him it seemed as if the letters were
writ out in blood。
582。 Belhomme； Louise； aged sixty。 Discharged。
And just below； the other entry：
583。 Lange； Jeanne； aged twenty； actress。 Square du Roule
No。5。 Suspected of harbouring traitors and ci…devants。
Transferred 29th Nivose to the Temple； cell 29。
He saw nothing more； for suddenly it seemed to him as if some one
held a vivid scarlet veil in front of his eyes； whilst a hundred
claw…like hands were tearing at his heart and at his throat。
〃Clear out now！ it is my turnwhat？ Are you going to stand there
all night？〃
A rough voice seemed to be speaking these words； rough hands
apparently were pushing him out of the way； and some one snatched
the candle out of his hand； but nothing was real。 He stumbled
over a corner of a loose flagstone； and would have fallen； but
something seemed to catch bold of him and to lead him away for a
little distance； until a breath of cold air blew upon his face。
This brought him back to his senses。
Jeanne was a prisoner in the Temple； then his place was in the
prison of the Temple； too。 It could not be very difficult to run
one's head into the noose that caught so many necks these days。 A
few cries of 〃Vive le roi！〃 or 〃A bas la republique！〃 and more
than one prison door would gape invitingly to receive another
guest。
The hot blood had rushed into Armand's head。 He did not see
clearly before him； nor did he hear distinctly。 There was a
buzzing in his ears as of myriads of mocking birds' wings； and
there was a veil in front of his eyesa veil through which he saw
faces and forms flitting ghost…like in the gloom； men and women
jostling or being jostled； soldiers； sentinels； then long；
interminable corridors； more crowd and more soldiers； winding
stairs； courtyards and gates； finally the open street； the quay；
and the river beyond。
An incessant hammering went on in his temples； and that veil never
lifted from before his eyes。 Now it was lurid and red； as if
stained with blood； anon it was white like a shroud but it was
always there。
Through it he saw the Pont…au…Change； which he crossed； then far
down on the Quai de l'Ecole to the left the corner house behind
St
