Memory of Flames

CHAPTER 33

CROWDS moved with difficulty through the streets. The poor lighting - old oil lanterns swinging in the wind at the end of their cords like hanged men - increased the impression of chaos. Margont and Lefine had to exert themselves to keep up with their guide. He was walking rapidly, pushing past refugees looking for somewhere to install their families, who were perched on the top of overloaded carts. Margont wondered if Joseph’s agents were managing to follow. How many were there? Mathurin Jelent had not been able to tell him.

One thing was worrying Margont. Their guide never turned round. He should have done, to make sure that no one was following them. Why was he not taking that most basic of precautions?

The Seine appeared. They took Pont de la Tournelle, crossed lie Saint-Louis, the quietest district in Paris even though it was in the heart of the capital, known for its elegant houses built in the reigns of Louis XIII and Louis XIV, and rejoined the other bank by

Pont Marie. They immediately turned right and followed the Seine. Margont called to their guide, ‘Slow down, or we’ll lose you.’

The man set off across Pont d’Austerlitz, taking them back to the left bank that they had just left. It was crowded with refugees heading for the miserable Faubourg Saint-Marcel in the hope of finding cheap accommodation. People were jostling each other and cursing. Margont was waving his arms like a man drowning in a human sea. They were almost back on the other bank again. Margont and Lefine had just passed a forage cart when two men surged up behind them and forced them to speed up again, by pushing them onwards.

‘Faster, Monsieur de Langes, faster.’

Margont recognised one of them; he had also been there when Vicomte de Leaume had made his impromptu visit. The boy guiding the cart pulled on the horse’s bit to drag him out of the way, and the cart blocked the bridge. ‘Careful! Careful! Hey, calm down! Gently!’ he cried, although he was agitating the horse by pulling his head this way and that.

Meanwhile the three men dragged Margont and Lefine along the little streets of the Faubourg Saint-Marcel.