Ange Pitou by Alexandre Dumas part one

“Here are the keys, sir,” said the provost. “You have so persuasive a mode of asking, that it does not even admit a refusal.”

“What you say really encourages me,” said Billot, who appeared to be meditating some other project.

“Ah, the deuce! Can you have anything else to ask of me?”

“Yes. Are you acquainted with the governor of the

Bastille?”

“Monsieur de Launay?”

“I do not know what his name is.”

“His name is De Launay.”

“Be it so. Well, do you know Monsieur de Launay?”

“He is a friend of mine.”

“In that case, you must desire that no misfortune should happen to him.”

“In fact, I should desire it.”

“Well, then, the way to prevent any misfortune happening to him is, that he should surrender the Bastille to me, or, at all events, liberate the doctor.”

“You do not imagine, surely, that I should have influence enough with him to induce him to surrender to you either his prisoner or his fortress, do you?”

“That is my affair. All that I ask is, that you will give me an introduction to him.”

“My dear Monsieur Billot, I forewarn you that if you go into the Bastille you will go into it alone.”

“Very well.”

“I forewarn you, moreover, that if you enter it alone you will perhaps not get out again.”

“Marvellously well.”

“Then I will give you your permission to go into the Bastille.”

“I will wait for it.”

“But it will be on still another condition.”

“What is that?”

“It is that you will not come to me again to-morrow and ask for a passport to the moon. I forewarn you that I am not acquainted with any one in those regions.”

“Flesselles! Flesselles!” said a hollow and threatening voice from behind the Provost of the Merchants, “if you continue to wear two faces,—the one which laughs with the aristocrats, the other which smiles upon the people,—you will perhaps receive between this and tomorrow morning a passport for a world from which no one returns.”

The provost turned round, shuddering.

“Who is it that speaks thus?” said he.

Marat

“‘Tis I, Marat.”

“Marat, the philosopher! Marat, the physician!” exclaimed Billot.

“Yes,” replied the same voice.

“Yes, Marat, the philosopher; Marat, the physician,” repeated Flesselles; “who in this last capacity ought to attend to curing lunatics, which would have been a sure means of now having a goodly number of patients.”

“Monsieur de Flesselles,” replied the lugubrious interlocutor, “this worthy citizen has asked you for a passport which will facilitate his seeing Monsieur de Launay. I would observe to you, that not only is he waiting for you, but that three thousand men are waiting for him.”

“‘Tis well, sir; he shall soon have it.”

Flesselles went to a table, passed one hand over his brow, and with the other seizing a pen, he rapidly wrote several lines.

“Here is your safe-conduct,” said he, delivering the paper to Billot.

“Read it,” said Marat.

“I cannot read,” said Billot.

“Well, then, give it to me; I can read.”

Billot handed the paper to Marat.

This passport was conceived in the following terms:

M. GOVERNOR,—We, Provost of the Merchants of the city of Paris, send to you M. Billot, in order to concert with you as to the interests of the said city.

DE FLESSELLES.

July 14, 1789.

“Good!” said Billot, “give it to me.”

“You find this passport good as it is?” said Marat.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Stop a minute. The provost is going to add a postscript to it, which will make it better.”

And he went up to Flesselles, who had remained standing, his hand on the table, and who looked with a disdainful air at the two men with whom he was so particularly engaged, and at a third one, half naked, who had just presented himself at the door, leaning upon a musketoon.

It was Pitou, who had followed Billot, and who held himself ready to obey the farmer’s orders, be they what they might.

“Sir,” said Marat to Flesselles, “the postscript which you are about to add, and which will render the passport so much better, is the following:”

“Say on, Monsieur Marat.”

Marat placed the paper on the table, and, pointing with his finger to the place on which the provost was to write the required postscript:—

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