The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX, No. 985, November 12, 1898

ON PAROLE.

If the shock of this abrupt arrest of the whole body of English travellers, who happened to be within reach of the First Consul, fell sharply on those at home, it fell at least no less sharply on those who were arrested.

An official notice was served upon all who could, by the utmost stretching, be accounted amenable to the act. In that notice, received alike by Colonel Baron and by Denham Ivor, they were informed that--"All the English enrolled in the Militia, from the ages of eighteen to sixty, or holding any commission from His Britannic Majesty, shall be made prisoners of war;"--the reason given being the same as was alleged in the version which speedily appeared in English papers.

The mention of the Militia was, however, additional; and there was something else also. It might fairly have been argued that professional men, men of business, and men of no particular employment, could not be included in the above statement. To guard against such reasoning the document went on to explain--"I tell you beforehand that no pretext, no excuse, can exclude you; as, according to British law, none can dispense you from serving in the Militia."

This notion was made the basis for a far more sweeping arrest than had at first been supposed possible. Not only officers in the Army and Navy, who were then in France or in other countries under the dominion of Napoleon, not only men who had served or who might be called upon to serve in the Militia, but lawyers and doctors, clergymen and men of rank, men of business and men in trade, all alike were detained, all alike were forced immediately to constitute themselves prisoners of war upon parole, with only the alternative of becoming prisoners of war in prison, instead of upon parole.

Those who consented to give their word of honour not to attempt to escape were allowed to remain at large, and to lodge where they would, under certain limitations. That is to say, they had to live in specified places, where they were under the continual inspection of the gendarmerie, and where they had at regular intervals to report themselves. Whether they were soldiers, sailors, clergymen, or business men, they were thus at once cut off from their work in life, and many were debarred from their only means of livelihood.

As a first move, the mass of the Paris détenus were ordered to Fontainebleau; and thither Colonel and Mrs. Baron had to betake themselves. Thither also Denham Ivor would speedily have to follow: though, on the score of danger to others from infection, a few days' delay was permitted.

The question had at once arisen whether Mrs. Baron should not be sent to England with Roy, as soon as the boy might be fit to travel, since women were theoretically free to go where they would, provided only that they could obtain passports. But Mrs. Baron refused to consider any such proposal. She could not and would not be separated from her husband. "Of course I shall go to Fontainebleau," she said decisively. "It cannot be for long. Roy must come to us there. It only means leaving his schooling for a quarter of a year; and he will not be strong enough for lessons at present. Something is sure to be arranged soon, and then we shall all go home together."

Others were less sanguine of a quick release; but Colonel Baron could seldom stand out against his wife, when she set her dainty foot down. He made a half struggle, and won from her a promise that, if he should be ordered farther away, she would then consent to Roy's being sent home. Beyond that he failed to get his own way.

Long before Roy could be counted safe for even the short journey to Fontainebleau, Denham had an intimation that his going thither might be no longer deferred. Thus far he had not thought it needful to tell the boy what had happened; but now the telling had become a necessity.

"Den, I want to look out of the window. Oh, let me look out," entreated Roy, as the heavy beat of a drum sounded. He wriggled on the hard sofa, where he had begun to spend a part of each day. Roy had grown thin, and his eyes blinked weakly when turned to the light.

"You want to see the soldiers?"

"Yes. Do let me. May I try to walk to the window all alone? I know I can."

Ivor laughed, though not mirthfully. "Try!" he answered, and Roy made a brave attempt, actually reaching the window without being helped.

"Come, that was good. You are getting on nicely. Now sit down, and look out for the soldiers. I think they are coming this way."

The boy gazed eagerly, flushing.

"I wish they were English," he said. "I wish I was in England. When are we going home, Den? And when may I see my mamma? I do want to have Molly again. It's ages since I saw Molly--and I want her!"

Denham was silent.

"It was stupid of me to be so glad to come away from Molly. Nothing is half nice without her."

"I am glad you have found that out. She is a dear little sister, and she would do anything in the world for you."

"Oh, well, of course, I know she would," assented Roy. "And I always was fond of Molly too. She gets cross sometimes, though."

"Roy never gets cross, I suppose?"

Roy laughed rather consciously, and then gave vent to a sigh. "Oh, dear, I don't like this chair. Not half so much as the sofa. It makes me tired. I wish nobody ever had the small-pox. When shall I be all right again, I wonder? I do hate being ill such a tremendously long time."

Denham picked him up bodily, as if he had been an infant, carried him across, and deposited him where he had been before.

"You have done about enough for one day. Oh, you will soon be well now; no fear! And you may count yourself fortunate, not to have been much worse. Yours has been a slight attack, compared with what many people have."

"I don't call it slight. I call it a most beastly horrid illness. Den, when shall we go home? I want Molly."

Denham took a seat by his side.

"I am not sure. It may not be just yet."

"Why not? I thought we were going as soon as ever we could."

"As soon as possible; yes. The question is, how soon that will be. Some of us are not able to go yet; but I am hoping that your father will send you home, and not let you wait for him and me."

"Why, Den?" Roy twisted round to gaze in astonishment. "Why, Den! I thought you were all waiting, only just till I should get over this. I didn't know there was anything else. Is there anything else? Has something happened? Do tell me."

"You and your mother are free to go back to England, as soon as she is willing to do so. Your father and I are not free."

"Aren't you? Why not? What is the matter with papa?"

"Nothing is the matter with him, so far as health is concerned. Only, he is not free and I am not free. We are both prisoners."

Roy's large grey eyes grew bigger and rounder.

"Den! Why--Den--what can you mean? Prisoners! You and papa prisoners! Why, you haven't been fighting."

"No, we have not been fighting. We ought not to be prisoners. Such a thing has never happened before, in any war between civilised countries. But war has been declared, as you know was expected before you were taken ill. And one of the first things that Napoleon did, directly war broke out, was to make all English travellers prisoners of war."

Roy clenched his fist.

"He professes to have had provocation. There were French vessels in our ports, and these were seized, as soon as our Ambassador had been ordered to return home. But that was in accordance with a very old custom--centuries old. Napoleon's act of reprisal is altogether new. It is a thing unheard of--making war on travellers and peaceful residents; a disgrace to himself and his nation. You know what is meant by 'reprisals' in war. This is his 'reprisal' for the vessels seized. Every Englishman in France, or in any country under Napoleon's sway at this moment, is declared to be a prisoner."

"Then I'm a prisoner too."