Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon Volume Ii Part 14

"With the Cusacks."

"What the devil do you mean? Who are they?"

"Oh, Tower of Ivory! did you never hear of the Cusacks, with the red beards and the red breeches and long poles with pike-heads on them, that does all the devilment on horseback,--spiking and spitting the people like larks?"

"The Cossacks, is it, you mean? The Cossacks?"

"Ay, just so, the Cusacks. They're from Clare Island, and thereabouts; and there's more of them in Meath. They're my mother's people, and was always real devils for fighting."

I burst out into an immoderate fit of laughing at Mike's etymology, which thus converted Hetman Platoff into a Galway man.

"Oh, murder! isn't it cruel to hear you laugh that way! There now, alanna!

be asy, and I'll tell you more news. We've the house to ourselves to-day.

The ould gentleman's down at Behlem, and the daughter's in Lisbon, making great preparations for a grand ball they're to give when you are quite well."

"I hope I shall be with the army in a few days, Mike; and certainly, if I'm able to move about, I'll not remain longer in Lisbon."

"Arrah, don't say so, now! When was you ever so comfortable? Upon my conscience, it's more like Paradise than anything else. If ye see the dinner we sit down to every day; and as for drink,--if it wasn't that I sleep on a ground-floor, I'd seldom see a blanket!"

"Well, certainly, Mike, I agree with you, these are hard things to tear ourselves away from."

"Aren't they now, sir? And then Miss Catherine, I'm taching her Iris.h.!.+"

"Teaching her Iris.h.!.+ for Heaven's sake, what use can she make of Irish?"

"Ah, the crayture, she doesn't know better; and as she was always bothering me to learn her English, I promised one day to do it; but ye see, somehow, I never was very proficient in strange tongues; so I thought to myself Irish will do as well. So, you perceive, we're taking a course of Irish literature, as Mr. Lynch says in Athlone; and, upon my conscience, she's an apt scholar."

"'Good-morning to you, Katey,' says Mr. Power to her the other day, as he pa.s.sed through the hall. 'Good-morning, my dear; I hear you speak English perfectly now?'

"'_Honia mon diaoul_,' says she, making a curtsey.

"Be the powers, I thought he'd die with the laughing.

"'Well, my dear, I hope you don't mean it,--do you know what you're saying?'

"'Honor bright, Major!' says I,--'honor bright!' and I gave him a wink at the same time.

"'Oh, that's it!' said he, 'is it!' and so he went off holding his hands to his sides with the bare laughing; and your honor knows it wasn't a blessing she wished him, for all that."

CHAPTER XV.

THE CONFESSION.

"What a strange position this of mine!" thought I, a few mornings after the events detailed in the last chapter. "How very fascinating in some respects, how full of all the charm of romance, and how confoundly difficult to see one's way through!"

To understand my cogitation right, _figurez-vous_, my dear reader, a large and splendidly furnished drawing-room, from one end of which an orangery in full blossom opens; from the other is seen a delicious little boudoir, where books, bronzes, pictures and statues, in all the artistique disorder of a lady's sanctum, are bathed in a deep purple light from a stained gla.s.s window of the seventeenth century.

On a small table beside the wood fire, whose mellow light is flirting with the sunbeams upon the carpet, stands an antique silver breakfast-service, which none but the hand of Benvenuto could have chiselled; beside it sits a girl, young and beautiful; her dark eyes, beaming beneath their long lashes, are fixed with an expression of watchful interest upon a pale and sickly youth, who, lounging upon a sofa opposite, is carelessly turning over the leaves of a new journal, or gazing steadfastly on the fretted gothic of the ceiling, while his thoughts are travelling many a mile away.

The lady being the Senhora Inez; the nonchalant invalid, your unworthy acquaintance, Charles O'Malley.

What a very strange position to be sure.

"Then you are not equal to this ball to-night?" said she, after a pause of some minutes.

I turned as she spoke; her words had struck audibly upon my ear, but, lost in my revery, I could but repeat my own fixed thought,--how strange to be so situated!

"You are really very tiresome, Signor; I a.s.sure you, you are. I have been giving you a most elegant description of the Casino _fete_, and the beautiful costume of our Lisbon belles, but I can get nothing from you but this muttered something, which may be very shocking for aught I know. I'm sure your friend, Major Power, would be much more attentive to me; that is," added she, archly, "if Miss Dashwood were not present."

"What! why! You don't mean that there is anything there--that Tower is paying attention to--"

"_Madre divina_, how that seems to interest you, and how red you are! If it were not that you never met her before, and that your acquaintance did not seem to make rapid progress, then I should say you are in love with her yourself."

I had to laugh at this, but felt my face flus.h.i.+ng more. "And so," said I, affecting a careless and indifferent tone, "the gay Fred Power is smitten at last!"

"Was it so very difficult a thing to accomplish?" said she, slyly.

"He seems to say so, at least. And the lady, how does she appear to receive his attentions?"

"Oh, I should say with evident pleasure and satisfaction, as all girls do the advances of men they don't care for, nor intend to care for."

"Indeed," said I, slowly, "indeed, Senhora?" looking into her eyes as I spoke, as if to read if the lesson were destined for my benefit.

"There, don't stare so!--every one knows that."

"So you don't think, then, that Lucy,--I mean Miss Dashwood--Why are you laughing so?"

"How can I help it; your calling her Lucy is so good, I wish she heard it; she's the very proudest girl I ever knew."

"But to come back; you really think she does not care for him?"

"Not more than for you; and I may be pardoned for the simile, having seen your meeting. But let me give you the news of our own _fete_. Sat.u.r.day is the day fixed; and you must be quite well,--I insist upon it. Miss Dashwood has promised to come,--no small concession; for after all she has never once been here since the day you frightened her. I can't help laughing at my blunder,--the two people I had promised myself should fall desperately in love with each other, and who will scarcely meet."

"But I trusted," said I, pettishly, "that you were not disposed to resign your own interest in me?"

"Neither was I," said she, with an easy smile, "except that I have so many admirers. I might even spare to my friends; though after all I should be sorry to lose you, I like you."

"Yes," said I half bitterly, "as girls do those they never intend to care for; is it not so?"

"Perhaps, yes, and perhaps--But is it going to rain? How provoking! and I have ordered my horse. Well, Signor Carlos, I leave you to your delightful newspaper, and all the magnificent descriptions of battles and sieges and skirmishes of which you seem doomed to pine without ceasing. There, don't kiss my hand twice; that's not right."

"Well, let me begin again--"

"I shall not breakfast with you any more. But tell me, am I to order a costume for you in Lisbon; or will you arrange all that yourself? You must come to the _fete_, you know."