His ship, The Sally, would be ready to depart by nightfall. The longest they could delay would be until the morning tide, with or without the extra passengers. If the local revolutionaries got word that he was a royalist helping to free Marie Antoinette herself, he might never be able to trade in the city of Paris again. Satisfied that the trunks had been loaded properly and without any undue interest, he retired to his cabin for an afternoon nap before the potential sail at dusk.

4 Madame Roland was among those executed by guillotine during the French Revolution. Before her execution, she is reported to have said, “O Liberté, comme on t’a jouée.” (Austin Dobson, Four Frenchwomen [London: Chatto & Windus, Piccadilly, 1890, archive.org], 59). The quote used here is another attributed to Madame Roland (Mathilde Blind, Famous Women: Madame Roland [Boston: Little, Brown, and Company, 1898], 310, archive.org).

Chapter Twenty-Three

Matteo stepped down the loading platform, off the boat, his legs buckling under him for only a moment while he accustomed them again to land. A great smile filled his face as he took deep breaths of French air. To his left, an American vessel, The Sally, sat docked with a new flag of red and white stripes, a white circle of stars on a patch of blue in the corner. Wind gusting about him, Matteo searched the shipyard, dusk arriving with him. He hurried toward a waiting carriage, satisfied that, as of yet, his arrival in France had gone undetected.

Handing a small trunk off to the waiting coachman, he climbed into the carriage with instructions for the driver to hurry to the first inn. There, he left express messages in the hands of a courier for all the remaining people on Éléonore’s potential denouncement list. As he had before from England, he told each family to leave France immediately. Then, with a great sense of urgency, he gave the coachman the directions to Potier’s country home.

Arriving two hours later, he checked his pistols again and put a hand on the sword at his waist. The carriage slowed to a stop. Before the wheels stood still, Matteo’s feet touched the soft earth, and he made his way in the darkness of night toward the light glowing in an upstairs window. Dark tree branches stood out against the moonlight sky. Shadows moved all around him, and an uneasiness grew in Matteo’s chest. Foolish to come alone, he reviewed his plan of escape: enter unseen, gather the household, and leave as quickly and quietly as possible. Not a very detailed plan, his lack of preparation caused every noise to take on a menacing tone.

The front door creaked open at his hand, and he peered inside, taking note of an unnaturally quiet home. The Pimpernel’s petition came to him.

Trust us. You must trust us.