I hereby grant in perpetuity the statue, the Wind Dancer, formerly the property of the royal house of Bourbon to Jean Marc Andreas.
Marie Antoinette
François had never seen Georges Jacques so haggard, his eyes glittering feverishly in his ugly face. It was probably the worst possible time to approach Danton, but all he could do was hope that even in deep despair, Georges Jacques hadn’t lost the shrewdness that had caused him to rise to greatness. In any case, François had little choice. “I want you to arrange an appointment for me at the Temple.”
Danton slowly lifted his leonine head. “The Temple? Why?”
François hesitated and then threw the dice. “Because I want to arrange the escape of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVII.”
Danton stiffened and leaned back in his chair. “You joke.”
“No,” François said quietly. “I want the appointment, Georges Jacques. I could have lied to you and told you there was some other reason I needed to be there, but time’s growing short and I’m done with lies.”
Danton’s eyes were suddenly cold. “Then you’re a fool. A lie might have saved your life. Who bought you, François?”
“No one.”
“Iknowyou. You hate aristos. You hate—”
François shook his head. “I’ve been bribing the nobility out of the prisons and smuggling them out of France for the past two years.”
Danton’s fingers tightened on the pen in his hand. “You did lie to me. You used me, you bastard.”
“As you used me. Did I ever refuse a task you set for me?”
Danton didn’t answer, his gaze on François’s face. “Why? Are you an aristocrat yourself?”
François shook his head. “My mother is Basque, my father is an English physician. My real name is William Darrell. We lived in the mountains near Bayonne before the revolution, but I persuaded my parents it was safer to go to England when I decided on this course. They live in Yorkshire now.”
“You consider yourself an Englishman?”
François shook his head. “You know better.”
“Then why?”
“The Rights of Man,” François said simply. “They have to survive, but the bloodletting and corruption are washing them away. The Americans didn’t start cutting off heads after they won their battle for independence. If they had, the British would have come swarming back across the sea and they’d have been crushed. That’s what will happen to France if it doesn’t stop.” He met Danton’s gaze. “We both know it.”
“What you say is treason.”
“What I speak is reason. You’ve always told me the guillotining of the king was madness.”
“The madness has already been committed. It’s over. We’re already at war with both Spain and England.”
“And we’ll continue to be at war as long as the royal family remains in the Temple. It’s become a holy crusade to free them.” François urged softly, “Letmefree them, Georges Jacques. They’re less of a danger out of the country than they are in the Temple. I’ll make sure no action of mine is traced back to you.”
Danton was silent a moment. “You’ve taken a terrible risk coming to me. You’ve betrayed me. First Gabrielle, and now you. Betrayal…”
François frowned in puzzlement. “Your wife didn’t betray you.”
“She died. She left me alone.” Danton cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. “I’ll think on it. You may go.”
François rose to his feet and stood looking at him. The risk was high. In his unstable frame of mind, Georges Jacques could go either way. “I’ll be waiting at my lodgings for an answer.”
Danton smiled crookedly. “And you’re scared gutless my answer will be delivered by the National Guard.”
“There’s always that possibility.” François bowed. “Au revoir, Georges Jacques.”
“No.” Georges Jacques coldly gazed at him. “Whatever my decision, I will not see you again.”
