On the other hand, this official arming of the mob had been seized upon by* the Sections as an excuse to call out the National Guard, which was mainly composed of middle-class citizens and was overwhelmingly anti-Convention in sentiment. Nine Sections had already declared themselves in open rebellion, and called upon the others to join them in maintaining the public safety which, they alleged, was now - menaced by the Terrorists.
Late in the evening General Menou arrived in the capital, but with only a limited number of troops; and that, together with the fact that had he obeyed the Convention's order promptly he could have reached it by midday, seemed to Roger a clear indication of his luke-warmness.
Menou was the General who had put down the rising of the sansculottes in May, and he had done so with considerable vigour; but he was now called on to do the very opposite. It was whispered that he had monarchist sympathies, and it was certain that he had many friends among the leaders of the Sections; so he could not be expected to use force, except in the last extremity, and his tardy arrival now made it seem possible that he was even in league with the Sections, and might go over to them.
The rapid development of the crisis gave Roger furiously to think how it might affect his own affairs. He had hoped that it would be delayed for a few days, in order that he might first have an opportunity of seeing Barras privately in his own house. Now it seemed very unlikely that he would be able to do so for, the Convention being in perpetual session, and also the Committee of Public Safety, it was as good as certain that Barras would be at one or other of them.
Yet, that he should see Barras before the clash occurred was imperative. During the last rising the mob had broken into the Chamber, slam a Deputy named Feraud, cut off his head, stuck it on a pole, and held it up face to face with Boissy d'Anglas, who had been occupying the rostrum. A similar fate to Feraud's might overtake Barras that very night If it did Roger would be debarred from proceeding with his plans, owing to the extreme danger of resuming his old identity while still uncertain how many people knew the real reason for his flight from France. Only through Barras could he learn if Fouché had told the truth, or deceived him so that he should disclose himself and be promptly arrested.
At nine o'clock he decided to take the plunge involved by going to the Convention. The risk was a high one as, should Barras prove an enemy, from his own house it might have been possible to escape, but there would be little chance of doing so from a crowded hall, or a Committee room, with soldiers within easy call. All Roger could do was to take the precautions he had already planned, by going in the emigre uniform under his long coat, and on horseback, so that if he had to make a bolt for it and could reach his mount, he would stand some chance of outdistancing his pursuers.
Soon after ten o'clock he dismounted outside the Tuileries, tied his horse to a hitching-post and went inside. In the lobby leading to the Assembly Hall there was more than the usual crush of people, and they were now exchanging agitated rumours. It was known that General Menou's troops had surrounded the Convent of the Filles de St. Thomas, which was the headquarters of the Lepelletier Section; but he was said to be parleying with the enemy.
On enquiring for. Barras, Roger learned, with almost stupefying thankfulness, that, having spent all day in the Convention, he had gone home to supper. Securing the address of his house, Roger ran outside, jumped on his horse and rode away, praying frantically that he might catch Barras there before he returned to resume his duties.
The house was a large one in the Rue de Grenelle. When Roger reached it he saw that a coach was waiting outside; and as he tied his horse to the railings the front door opened. A man and a woman stood for a moment in the lighted doorway. The broad shouldered soldierly figure Roger instantly recognized as that of Barras; the woman was fashionably dressed, and had a willowy figure.
As Barras led her down the steps Roger saw that she was about thirty, olive complexioned, brown-haired and beautiful. He waited until Barras had seen her into the coach, thei. as his quarry turned to re-enter the house he nerved himself to move forward. If a visit to Fouché's dwelling could be likened to entering a snake-pit, one to Barras's house was certainly equivalent to walking into a lion's den. Ready to spring back and run on the instant, he stepped forward and said m a loud, cheerful voice:
"Good evening Citizen Commissioner. I am happy to see that you have not lost your good taste where the fair sex is concerned."
"Who the devil are you!" growled Barras.
Roger laughed. "It's not to be wondered at that you don't recognize me, but I am your old adherent, Citizen Breuc."
The die was cast. In an agony of apprehension Roger waited for Barras's reply. It seemed an age in coming, yet actually it was only a few seconds. Having stared at him for a moment in the uncertain light, Barras exclaimed:
"Ventre du Pape! So it is! Where on earth have you been all this time?"
Roger breathed again. There was no trace of the hostility he had feared in Barras's voice, but a warm note of pleasure.
"'Tis a long story." he replied. "But if I may accompany you inside I'll tell it to you as briefly as I can."
"Come in, my dear fellow. Come in and welcome." Barras threw a friendly arm about his shoulders and side by side they went up the steps.
In the lighted hall Roger was able to get a better look at him. He was, in his southern, Provencal way, as flamboyantly handsome as ever. His big nose and pugnacious chin proclaimed the forcefulness of his character: his full, sensual mouth and bright eyes, his boundless zest for good living. As a ci-devant Comte and an officer of the old Royal Army he had the easy manners and striking bearing of the born aristocrat who has long been a soldier.
"You have not changed much," Roger remarked with a smile, "either in appearance or, it seems, in your devotion to the ladies. That was a rare charmer that you saw to her coach just now."
Barras grinned back. "Oh, she is a little protegee of mine, and a friend of Madame Tallien. Her name is Josephine de Beauharnais. No doubt you will remember her husband the General, whose head some of our old friends had cut off. She is still a widow, and a deucedly attractive one."
Roger almost exclaimed, 'Why! I met several of her relatives in Martinique', but just stopped himself in time. His heart lurched within him at his narrow escape, and when he recovered, he said instead:
"From what I see of the condition of the streets, it surprises me somewhat to find you philandering at such a time."
Barras shrugged his broad shoulders. "I had made an appointment some days ago for her to sup with me tonight a deux; and she is too excellent a morsel for me to put her off. As for the riots that are in progress, it would need more than noise to divert me from my pleasures, and if I am fated to die before morning I'd as lief do so here in my own house after a good meal shared with a beauty as on the dirty floor of the Convention. But tell me about yourself, and the little Capet?"
"Fouché must have told you of our stupid quarrel in the Temple," Roger opened boldly, "and how I set off to secure the boy after we had stumbled on a clue to his whereabouts. Some Royalists had him hidden in a farmhouse in the Jura, but they proved too many for me and got away with him. I followed across the Swiss border, but once out of France I no longer had the power to seize him openly, so could only keep track of them in secret, hoping that some chance might arise to abduct him. After a short stay in Geneva they took him to England. Still imbued with the thought of how necessary it was for us to get hold of him, I followed them, and traced him to a country house in Hampshire. There he fell ill with diphtheria and, before I could make further plans, died of it."