Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume I Part 64

"I am a foreigner," said I; "does that make any difference here?"

"None," said he, smiling; "the witness is but a very subordinate personage here."

I took the pen, and proceeded to write as I was desired; and, while thus engaged, the door opened, and a short, heavy step crossed the room. I did not dare to look up; some secret feeling of terror ran through me, and told me it was the Emperor himself.

"Well, D'Auvergne," said he, in a frank, bold way, quite different from his ordinary voice, "you seem but half content with this plan of mine.

_Pardieu!_ there's many a brave fellow would not deem the case so hard a one."

"As your wish, sire--"

"As mine, _diantre!_ my friend. Do not say mine only; you forget that the lady expressed herself equally satisfied. Come I is the _acte_ completed?"

"It wants but your Majesty's signature," said the chancellor.

The Emperor took the pen, and dashed some indescribable scroll across the paper; then turning suddenly towards the general, he conversed with him eagerly for several minutes, but in so low a voice as not to be audible where I stood. I could but catch the words "Darmstadt-- Augsburg--the fourth corps;" from which it seemed the movements of the army were the subject; when he added, in a louder voice,--

"Every hour now is worth a day, ay, a week, hereafter. Remember that, D'Auvergne."

"Everything is finished, sire," said the chancellor, handing the folded papers to the Emperor.

"These are for your keeping, Greneral," said he, delivering them into D'Auvergne's hand.

"Pardon, sire," said the chancellor, hastily, "I have made a great error here. Madame la Comtesse has not appended her signature to the consent."

"Indeed!" said the Emperor, smiling. "We have been too hasty, it would seem; so thinks our reverend father of Saint Roch, I perceive, who is evidently not accustomed to officiate _au coup de tambour_."

"Her Majesty the Empress!" said the _huissier_, as he opened the doors to permit her to enter. She was dressed in full Court dress, covered with jewels; she held within her arm the hand of another, over whose figure a deep veil was thrown, that entirely concealed her from head to foot.

"Madame la Comtesse will have the kindness to sign this," said the chancellor, as he handed over a pen to the lady.

She threw back her veil as he spoke. As she turned towards the table, I saw the pale, almost deathlike features of Marie de Meudon. Such was the shock, I scarce restrained a cry from bursting forth, and a film fell before my eyes as I looked, and the figures before me floated like ma.s.ses of vapor before my sight.

The Empress now spoke to the general, but no longer could I take notice of what was said. Voices there were, but they conveyed nothing to my mind. A terrible rush of thoughts, too quick for perception, chased one another through my brain, and I felt as though my temples were bursting open from some pressure within.

Suddenly the general moved forward, and knelt to kiss the Empress's hand; he then took that of Mademoiselle de Meudon, and held it to his lips. I heard the word "Adieu!" faintly uttered by her low voice; the veil fell once more over her features. That moment a stir followed, and in a few minutes more we were descending the stairs alone, the general leaning on my arm, his right hand pressed across his eyes.

When we reached the court, several officers of rank pressed forward, and I could hear the buzz of phrases implying congratulations and joy, to which the old general replied briefly, and with evident depression of manner. The dreadful oppression of a sad dream was over me still, and I felt as though to awake were impossible, when, to some remark near him, the general replied,--

"True! Quite true, Monseigneur; I have made her my wife. There only remains one reparation for it, which is to make her my widow."

"His wife!" said I, aloud, re-echoing the word without knowing.

"Even so, mon ami," said he, pressing my hand softly; "my name and my fortune are both hers. As for myself,--we shall never meet again."

He turned away his head as he spoke, nor uttered another word during the remainder of the way.

When we arrived at the Rue de Rohan the horses were harnessed to the carriage, and all in readiness for our departure. The rumor of expected war had brought, a crowd of idlers about the door, through which we pa.s.sed with some difficulty into the house. Hastily throwing an eye over the now dismantled room, the old general approached the window that looked out upon the Tuileries. "Adieu!" muttered he to himself; "je ne vous reverrai jamais!" And with that he pressed his travelling-cap over his brows, and descended the stairs.

A cheer burst from the mob; the postilion's whip cracked loudly; the horses dashed over the pavement; and ere the first flurry of mad excitement had subsided from my mind, Paris was some miles behind us, and we were hastening on towards the frontier.

Almost every man has experienced at least one period of his life when the curtain seems to drop, and the drama in which he has. .h.i.therto acted to end; when a total change appears to pa.s.s over the interests he has lived among, and a new and very different kind of existence to open before him. Such is the case when the death of friends has left us alone and companionless; when they into whose ears we poured our whole thoughts of sorrow or of joy are gone, and we look around upon the bleak world without a tie to existence, without one hope to cheer us. How naturally then do we turn from every path and place once lingered over! how do we fly the thoughts wherein once consisted our greatest happiness, and seek from other sources impressions less painful, because unconnected with the past! Still, the bereavement of death is never devoid of a sense of holy calm, a sort of solemn peace connected with the memory of the lost one. In the sleep that knows no waking we see the end of earthly troubles; in the silence of the grave come no sounds of this world's contention; the winds that stir the rank gra.s.s of the churchyard breathe at least repose. Not so when fate has severed us from those we loved best during lifetime; when the fortunes we hoped to link with our own are torn asunder from us; when the hour comes when we must turn from the path we had followed with pleasure and happiness, and seek another road in life, bearing with us not only all the memory of the past, but all the speculation on the future. There is no sorrow, no affliction, like this.

It was thus I viewed my joyless fortune,--with such depressing reflections I thought over the past. What mattered it now how my career might turn? There lived not one to care whether rank or honor, disgrace or death, were to be my portion. The glorious path I often longed to tread opened for me now without exciting one spark of enthusiasm. So is it even in our most selfish desires, we live less for ourselves than others.

If my road in life seemed to present few features to hang hopes on, he who sat beside me appeared still more depressed. Seldom speaking, and then but in monosyllables, he remained sunk in reverie.

And thus pa.s.sed the days of our journey, when on the third evening we came in sight of Coblentz. Then indeed there burst upon my astonished gaze one of those scenes which once seen are never forgotten. From the gentle declivity which we were now descending, the view extended several miles in every direction. Beneath us lay the city of Coblentz, its spires and domes s.h.i.+ning like gilded bronze as the rays of the setting sun fell upon them; the Moselle swept along one side of the town till it mingled its eddies with the broad Rhine, now one sheet of liquid gold; the long pontoon bridge, against whose dark cut.w.a.ters the bright stream broke in sparkling circles, trembled beneath the dull roll of artillery and baggage-wagons, which might be seen issuing from the town, and serpentining their course along the river's edge for miles, till they were lost in the narrow glen by which the Lahn flows into the Rhine.

Beyond rose the great precipice of rock, with its crowning fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, along whose battlemented walls, almost lost in the heavy clouds of evening, might be seen dark specks moving from place to place,--the soldiers of the garrison looking down from their eyrie on the war-tide that flowed beneath. Lower down the river many boats were crossing, in which, as the sunlight shone, one could mark the glancing of arms and the glitter of uniforms; while farther again, and in deep shadow, rose the solitary towers of the ruined castle of Lahneck, its shattered walls and gra.s.s-grown battlements standing clearly out against the evening sky.

Far as we were oif, every breeze that stirred bore towards us the softened swell of military music, which, even when too faint to trace, made the air tremulous with its martial sounds. Along the ramparts of the city were crowds of townspeople, gazing with anxious wonderment at the spectacle; for none knew, save the generals in command of divisions, the destination of that mighty force, the greatest Europe had ever seen up to that period. Such indeed were the measures taken to ensure secrecy, that none were permitted to cross the frontier without a special authority from the Minister for Foreign Affairs; the letters in the various post-offices were detained, and even travellers were denied post-horses on the great roads to the eastward, lest intelligence might be conveyed to Germany of the movement in progress. Meanwhile, at Manheim, at Spire, at Strasburg, and at Coblentz, the long columns streamed forth whose eagles were soon destined to meet in the great plains of Southern Germany.

Such was the gorgeous spectacle that each moment grew more palpable to our astonished senses,--more brilliant far than anything painting could realize,--more spirit-stirring than the grandest words that poet ever sang.

"The cuira.s.siers and the dragoons of the Guard are yonder," said the general, as he directed his gla.s.s to a large square of the town where a vast ma.s.s of dismounted cavalry were standing. "You see how punctual they are; we are but two hours behind our time, and they are awaiting our arrival."

"And do we move forward to-night, General?" asked I, in some surprise.

"Yes, and every night. The marches are to be made fourteen hours each day. There go the Lancers of Berg; you see their scarlet dolmans, don't you? And yonder, in the three large boats beyond the point, there are the sappers of the Guard. What are the shouts I hear? Whence comes that cheering? Oh, I see! it's a vivandire; her horse has backed into the river. See, see! she is going to swim him over! Look how the current takes him down! Bravely done, faith! She heads him to the stream; it won't do, though; she must be carried down."

Just at this critical moment a boat shoots out from under the cliff; a few strokes of the oars and they are alongside. There's a splash and a shout, and the skiff moves on.

"And now I see they have given her a rope, and are towing her and her horse across. See how the old spirit comes back with the first blast of the trumpet," said the old general, as his eyes flashed with enthusiasm.

"That damsel there,--I 'll warrant ye, she 'd have thought twice about stepping over a rivulet in the streets of Paris yesterday; and look at her now! Well done! gallantly done! See how she spurs him up the bank! _Ma foi!_ Mademoiselle, you 'll have no lack of lovers for that achievement."

A few minutes more and we entered the town, whose streets were thronged with soldiers hurrying on to their different corps, and eager townsfolk asking a hundred questions, to which, of course, few waited to reply.

"This way, General," said an officer in undress, who recognized General d'Auvergne. "The cavalry of the third division is stationed on the square."

Driving through a narrow street, through which the _calche_ had barely room to pa.s.s, we now found ourselves in the Place,--a handsome s.p.a.ce surrounded with a double row of trees, under which the dragoons were lying, holding the bridles of their horses.

The general had scarcely put foot to ground when the trumpets sounded the call. The superior officers came running forward to greet him.

Taking the arm of a short man in the uniform of the cuira.s.siers, the general entered a caf near, while I became the centre of some dozen officers, all eagerly asking the news from Paris, and whether the Emperor had yet left the capital. It was not without considerable astonishment I then perceived how totally ignorant they all were of the destination of the army; many alleging it was designed for Russia, and others equally positive that the Prussians were the object of attack,--the arguments in support of each opinion being wonderfully ingenious, and only deficient in one respect, having not a particle of fact for their foundation.

In the midst of these conjecturings came a new subject for discussion; for one of the group, who had just received a letter from his brother, a page at the Tuileries, was reading the contents aloud for the benefit of the rest:--

"Jules says that they are all astray as to the Emperor's movements.

Duroc has left Paris suddenly, but no one knows for where; the only thing certain is, a hot campaign is to open somewhere. One hundred and eighty thousand men--"

"Bah!" said an old, white-mustached major, with a look of evident unbelief; "we never had forty with the army of the Sambre."

"And what then?" said another, fiercely. "Do you compare your army of the Sambre, your sans-culottes Republicans, with the Imperial troops?"

The old major's face became deeply crimsoned, and with a muttered _ demain_ he walked away.

"Go after him, Amde," said another; "you had no right to say that."

"Not I, faith," said the other, carelessly. "There is a grudge between us these three weeks past, and we may as well have it out. Go on with the letter, Henri."