Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon Volume Ii Part 64

"Pray, what has happened?" said I. "To what do you allude?"

"Merely to one of your people who has just been taken with some letters and papers of Bourmont's in his possession. The Emperor is in no very amicable humor towards the traitor, and resolves to pay off some part of his debt on his British correspondent."

"How cruel! How unjust!"

"Why, yes, it is hard, I confess, to be shot for the fault of another.

Mais, que voulez-vous?"

"And when is this atrocious act to take place?"

"By daybreak to-morrow," said he, bowing, as he turned towards the hut.

"Meanwhile, let me counsel you, if you would not make another in the party, to reserve your indignation for your return to England."

"Come along," said the quartermaster; "I find they have got quarters for you in the granary of the farm. I'll not forget you at supper-time."

So saying, he gave his horse to an orderly, and led me by a little path to a back entrance of the dwelling. Had I time or inclination for such a scene, I might have lingered long to gaze at the spectacle before me. The guard held their bivouac around the quarters of the Emperor; and here, beside the watch-fires, sat the bronzed and scarred veterans who had braved every death and danger, from the Pyramids to the Kremlin. On every side I heard the names of those whom history has already consigned to immortality; and as the fitful blaze of a wood-fire flashed from within the house, I could mark the figure of one who, with his hands behind his back, walked leisurely to and fro, his head leaned a little forward as though in deep thought; but as the light fell upon his pale and placid features, there was nothing there to indicate the stormy strife of hope and fear that raged beneath. From the rapid survey I took around I was roused by an officer, who, saluting me, politely desired me to follow him. We mounted a flight of stone steps which, outside the wall of the building, led to the upper story of a large but ruined granary. Here a sentry was posted, who permitting us to pa.s.s forward, I found myself in a small, mean-looking apartment, whose few articles of coa.r.s.e furniture were dimly lighted by the feeble glimmer of a lamp. At the farther end of the room sat a man wrapped in a large blue cavalry cloak, whose face, covered with his hands as he bent downward, was completely concealed from view. The noise of the opening door did not appear to arouse him, nor did he notice my approach. As I entered, a faint sigh broke from him, as he turned his back upon the light; but he spoke not a word.

I sat for some time in silence, unwilling to obtrude myself upon the sorrows of one to whom I was unknown; and as I walked up and down the gloomy chamber, my thoughts became riveted so completely upon my own fortunes that I ceased to remember my fellow-prisoner. The hours pa.s.sed thus lazily along, when the door suddenly opened, and an officer in the dress of a lancer of the guard stood for an instant before me, and then, springing forward, clasped me by both hands, and called out,--

"Charles, mon ami, c'est bien toi?"

The voice recalled to my recollections what his features, altered by time and years, had failed to do. It was Jules St. Croix, my former prisoner in the Peninsula. I cannot paint the delight with which I saw him again; his presence now, while it brought back the memory of some of my happiest days, also a.s.sured me that I was not friendless.

His visit was a brief one, for he was in attendance on Marshal Lobau's staff. In the few minutes, however, of his stay, he said,--

"I have a debt to pay, Charles, and have come to discharge it. In an hour hence I shall leave this with despatches for the left of our line. Before I go, I'll come here with two or three others, as it were, to wish you a good-night. I'll take care to carry a second cloak and a foraging cap; I'll provide a fast horse; you shall accompany us for some distance. I'll see you safe across our pickets; for the rest, you must trust to yourself.

C'est arrange, n'est-ce-pas?"

One firm grasp of his hand, to which I responded by another, followed, and he was gone.

Everything concurred to show me that a tremendous battle must ensue on the morrow, if the British forces but held their position. It was, then, with a feeling of excitement approaching to madness that I saw my liberty before me; that once more I should join in the bold charge and the rude shock of arms, hear the wild cry of my gallant countrymen, and either live to triumph with them in victory, or wait not to witness our defeat. Fast flew my hopes, as with increasing impatience I waited St. Croix's coming, and with anxious heart listened to every sound upon the stairs which might indicate his approach. At length he came. I heard the gay and laughing voices of his companions as they came along; the door opened, and affecting the familiarity of old acquaintance to deceive the sentry, they all shook me by the hand and spoke in terms of intimacy.

"Labedoyere is below," said St. Croix, in a whisper; "you must wait here a few moments longer, and I'll return for you; put on the cloak and cap, and speak not a word as you pa.s.s out. The sentry will suppose that one of our party has remained behind; for I shall call out as if speaking to him, as I leave the room."

The voice of an officer calling in tones of impatience for the party to come down, cut short the interview; and again a.s.suring me of their determination to stand by me, they left the chamber and descended into the court. Scarcely had the door closed behind them, when my fellow-prisoner, whom I had totally forgotten, sprang on his legs and came towards me. His figure screening the lamplight as he stood, prevented my recognizing his features, but the first tones of his voice told me who he was.

"Stay, sir," cried he, as he placed his hand upon my arm; "I have overheard your project. In an hour hence you will be free. Can you---will you perform a service for one who will esteem it not the less that it will be the last that man can render him? The few lines which I have written here with my pencil are for my daughter."

I could bear no more, and called out in a voice broken as his own,--

"Oh, be not deceived, sir. Will you, even in an hour like this, accept a service from one whom you have banished from your house?"

The old man started as I spoke; his hand trembled till it shook my very arm, and after a pause and with an effort to seem calm and collected, he added,--

"My hours are few. Some despatches of General Bourmont with which the duke intrusted me were found in my possession. My sentence is a hurried one, and it is death. By to-morrow's sunrise--"

"Stay, stay!" said I. "You shall escape; my life is in no danger. I have, as you see, even friends among the staff. Besides, I have done nothing to compromise or endanger my position."

"No, sir," said he, sternly, "I will not act such a part as this. The tears you have seen in these old eyes are not for myself. I fear not death.

Better it were it should have come upon the field of glorious battle; but as it is, my soldier's honor is intact, untainted."

"You refuse the service on account of him who proffers it," said I, as I fell heavily upon a seat, my head bowed upon my bosom.

"Not so, not so, my boy," replied he, kindly. "The near approach of death, like the fading light of day, gives us a longer and a clearer view before us. I feel that I have wronged you; that I have imputed to you the errors of others; but, believe me, if I have wronged you, I have punished my own heart; for, Charles, I have loved you like a son."

"Then prove it," said I, "and let me act towards you as towards a father.

You will not? You refuse me still? Then, by Heaven, I remain to share your fate! I well know the temper of him who has sentenced you, and that, by one word of mine, my destiny is sealed forever."

"No, no, boy! This is but rash and insane folly. Another year or two, nay, perhaps a few months more, and in the common course of Nature I had ceased to be; but you, with youth, with fortune, and with hope--"

"Oh, not with hope!" said I, in a voice of agony.

"Nay, say not so," replied he, calmly, while a sickly smile played sadly over his face; "you will give this letter to my daughter, you will tell her that we parted as friends should part; and if after that, when time shall have smoothed down her grief, and her sorrow be rather a dark dream of the past than a present suffering,--if then you love her, and if--"

"Oh, tempt me not thus!" said I, as the warm tears gushed from my eyes.

"Lead me not thus astray from what my honor tells me I should do. Hark!

They are coming already. I hear the clank of their sabres; they are mounting the steps; not a moment is to be lost! Do you refuse me still?"

"I do," replied he, firmly; "I am resolved to bide my fate."

"Then so do I," cried I, as folding my arms, I sat down beside the window, determined on my course.

"Charley, Charley," said he, stooping over me, "my friend, my last hope, the protector of my child--"

"I will not go," said I, in a hollow whisper.

Already they were at the door; I heard their voices as they challenged the sentry; I heard his musket as he raised it to his shoulder. The thought flashed across me. I jumped up, and throwing the loose mantle of the French dragoon around him, and replacing his own with the foraging cap of St.

Croix, I sprang into a corner of the room, and seating myself so as to conceal my face, waited the result. The door opened, the party entered laughing and talking together.

"Come, Eugene," said one, taking Sir George by the arm, "you have spent long enough time here to learn the English language. We shall be late at the outpost. Messieurs les Anglais, good-night, good-night!"

This was repeated by the others as they pa.s.sed out with Sir George Dashwood among them, who, seeing that my determination was not to be shaken, and that any demur on his part must necessarily compromise both, yielded to a _coup-de-main_ what he never would have consented to from an appeal to his reason. The door closed; their steps died away in the distance. Again a faint sound struck my ear; it was the challenge of the sentry beneath, and I heard the tramp of horses' feet. All was still, and in a burst of heart-felt grat.i.tude I sank upon my knees, and thanked G.o.d that he was safe.

So soundly did I sleep, that not before I was shaken several times by the shoulder could I awake on the following morning.

"I thought there were two prisoners here," said a gruff voice, as an old mustached-looking veteran cast a searching look about the room. "However, we shall have enough of them before sunset. Get--get up; Monsieur le Duc de Dalmatie desires some information you can give him."

As he said this, he led me from the room; and descending the flight of stone steps, we entered the courtyard. It was but four o'clock, the rain, still falling in torrents, yet every one was up and stirring.

"Mount this horse," said my gruff friend, "and come with me towards the left; the marshal has already gone forward."

The heavy mist of the morning, darkened by the lowering clouds which almost rested on the earth, prevented our seeing above a hundred yards before us; but the hazy light of the watch-fires showed me extent of the French position, as it stretched away along the ridge towards the Halle road. We rode forward at a trot, but in the deep clayey soil we sank at each moment to our horses' fetlocks. I turned my head as I heard the tramp and splash of hors.e.m.e.n behind, and perceived that I was followed by two dragoons, who, with their carbines on the rest, kept their eyes steadily upon me to prevent any chance of escape. In a slight hollow of the ground before us stood a number of hors.e.m.e.n, who conversed together in a low tone as we came up.

"There, that is the marshal," said my companion, in a whisper, as we joined the party.

"Yes, Monsieur le Duc," said an engineer colonel, who stood beside Soult's horse with a colored plan in his hand,--"yes, that is the Chateau de Goumont, yonder. It is, as you perceive, completely covered by the rising ground marked here. They will doubtless place a strong artillery force in this quarter."

"Ah, who is this?" said the marshal, turning his eyes suddenly upon me, and then casting a look of displeasure around him, lest I should have overheard any portion of their conversation. "You are deficient in cavalry, it would appear, sir," said he to me.