Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume Ii Part 7

"As you wish it, D'Auvergne."

With that he moved forward ere I could do more than express my grat.i.tude by a respectful bow.

"I told you, Burke, the time would come for this," said D'Auvergne, as he pressed my hand warmly, and followed the cortege of the Emperor.

Hitherto I had lived an almost isolated life. My staff duties had so separated me from my brother officers that I only knew them by name; while the other aides-de-camp of the general were men much older than myself, and with none of them had I formed any intimacy whatever. It was not without a sense of this loneliness that I now thought over my promotion. The absence of those who sympathize with our moments of joy and sorrow reduces our enjoyment to a narrow limit indeed. The only one of all I knew who would really have felt happy in my advancement was poor Pioche. He was beyond every thought of pleasure or grief.

Thus reflecting, I turned towards my quarters at Brunn. It was evening: the watchfires were lighted, and round them sat groups of soldiers at their supper, chatting away pleasantly, and recounting the events of the battle. Many had been slightly wounded, and by their bandaged foreheads and disabled arms claimed a marked pre-eminence above the rest. A straw bivouac, with its great blazing fire in front, would denote some officer's quarters; and here were generally some eight or ten a.s.sembled, while the savory odor of some smoking dish, and the merry laughter, proclaimed that feasting was not excluded from the life of a campaign.

As I pa.s.sed one of these I heard the tones of a voice which, well known, had somehow not been heard by me for many a day before. Who could it be?

I listened, but in vain. I asked myself whose was it. I dismounted, and leading my horse by the bridle, pa.s.sed before the hut. The strong light of the blazing wood lit up the interior, and showed me a party of about a dozen officers, seated and lying on a heap of straw, occupied in discussing a supper, which, however wanting in all the elegancies of table equipment, even where I stood had a most appetizing odor. Various drinking vessels, some of them silver, pa.s.sed from hand to hand rapidly; and the clinking of cups proclaimed that, although of different regiments,--as I saw they were,--a kindly feeling united them.

"Well, Francois," said the same voice, whose accents were so familiar to me without my being able to say why,--"well, Francois, you have not told us how it happened."

"Easily enough," said another; "he broke my blade in his back, and gave point afterwards and ran me through the chest." It was the maitre d'armes of the Fourth, my old antagonist, who said this, and I drew near to hear the remainder. "You could not call the thing unfair," continued he; "but, after all, no one ever heard of such a _pa.s.se_."

"I could have told you of it, though," rejoined the other; "for I remember once, in the fencing school at the Polytechnique, I saw him catch his antagonist's blade in his sleeve, and when he had it secure, snap it across, and then thrust home with his own. _Parbleu!_ he lost a coat by it; and I believe, at the time, poor fellow, he could ill spare it."

This story, which was told of myself, was an incident which occurred in a school duel, and was only known to two or three others; and again was I puzzled to think which of my former companions the speaker could be.

My curiosity was now stronger than aught else; and so, affecting to seek a light for my cigar, I approached the blaze.

"Halloo, Comrade! a cup of wine with you," cried out a voice from within; "Melniker is no bad drinking--"

"When Chambertin can't be had," said another, handing me a goblet of red wine.

"_Par Saint Denis!_ it's the very man himself," shouted a third. "Why, Burke, my old comrade, do you forget Tascher?"

"What!" said I, in amazement, turning from one to the other of the mustached faces, and unable to discover my former friend, while they laughed loud and long at my embarra.s.sment.

"Make way for him there; make way, lads! Come, Burke, here's your place," said he, stretching out his hand and pressing me down beside him on the straw. "So you did not remember me?"

In truth, there was enough of change in his appearance since last I saw him to warrant my forgetfulness. A dark, bushy beard, worn cuira.s.sier fas.h.i.+on, around the mouth and high on the cheeks, almost concealed his face, while in figure he had grown both taller and stouter.

"Art colonel of the Eighth Regiment?" said he, laughing; "you know I promised you were to be, when we were to meet again."

"No; but, if I mistake not," said a hussar officer opposite, "monsieur is in the way to become so. Were you not named to a troop, about half an hour ago, by the Emperor himself?"

"Yes!" said I, with an effort to suppress my pride.

"_Diantre bleu!_" exclaimed Tascher, "what good fortune you always have I I wish you joy of it, with all my heart. I say, Comrades, let us drown his commission for him."

"Agreed! agreed!" cried they all in a breath. "Francois will make us a bowl of punch for the occasion."

"Most willingly," said the little maitre d'armes. "Monsieur le Capitaine, I am sure, bears me no ill-will for our little affair. I thought not," added he, seizing my hand in both his. "_Ma foi!_ you spoiled my tierce for me; I shall never be the same man again. Now, gentlemen, pa.s.s down the brandy, and let the man with most credit go seek for sugar at the canteen."

While Francois commenced his operations, Tascher proceeded to recount to me the miserable life he had spent in garrison towns, till the outbreak of the campaign had called him on active service.

"It was no use that I asked the Empress to intercede for me, and get me appointed to another regiment; being the nephew of Napoleon seemed to set a complete bar to my advancement. Even now," said he, "my name has been sent forward by my colonel for promotion, and I wager you fifty Naps I shall be pa.s.sed over."

"And what if you be?" said a huge, heavy-browed major beside him; "what great hards.h.i.+p is it to be a lieutenant in the cuira.s.siers at two and twenty? I was a sergeant ten years later."

"Ay, _parbleu!_" cried another, "I won my epaulettes at Cairo, when three officers were reported living, in a whole regiment."

"To be sure," said Francois, looking up from his operation of lemon-squeezing; "here am I, a maitre d'armes, after twenty-six years'

service; and there's Davoust, who never could stand before me, he's a general of brigade."

The whole party laughed aloud at the grievances of Maitre Francois, whose seriousness on the subject was perfectly real.

"Ah; you may laugh," said he, half in pique; "but what a mere accident can determine a man's fortune in life! Would Junot there be a major-general to-day if he did not measure six feet without his boots?

We were at school together, and, _ma foi!_ he was always at the bottom of the cla.s.s."

"And so, Francois, it was your size, then, that stopped your promotion?"

"Of course it was. When a man is but five feet--with high heels, too--he can only be advanced as a maitre d'armes. _Parbleu!_ what should I be now if I had only grown a little taller?"

"It is all better as it is," growled out an old captain, between the puffs of his meerschaum. "If thou wert an inch bigger, there would be'

no living in the same brigade with thee."

"For all that," rejoined Maitre Francois, "I have put many a pretty fellow his full length on the gra.s.s."

"How many duels, Francois, did you tell us, the other evening, that you fought in the Twenty-second?"

"Seventy-eight!" said the little man; "not to speak of two affairs which, I am ashamed to confess, were with the broadsword; but they were fellows from Alsace, and they knew no better."

"_Tonnerre de ciel!_" cried the major, "a little devil like that is a perfect plague in a regiment. I remember we had a fellow called Piccotin--"

"Ah! Piccotin; poor Piccotin! We were foster-brothers," interrupted Francois; "we were both from Chalons-sur-Marne."

"Egad! I 'd have sworn you were," rejoined the major. "One might have thought ye were twins."

"People often said so," responded Francois, with as much composure as though a compliment had been intended. "We both had the same colored hair and eyes, the same military air, and gave the _pa.s.se en tierce_ always outside the guard exactly in the same way."

"What became of Piccotin?" asked the major. "He left us at Lyons."

"You never heard, then, what became of him?" "No. We knew he joined the _cha.s.seurs a pied_." "I can tell you, then," said Francois; "no one knows better. I parted from Piccotin when we were ordered to Egypt. We did our best to obtain service in the same brigade, for we were like brothers, but we could not manage it; and so, with sad hearts, we separated,--he to return to France, I to sail for Alexandria. This was in the spring of 1798, or, as we called it, the year Six of the Republic. For three years we never met; but when the eighth demi-brigade returned from Egypt, we went into garrison at Bayonne, and the first man I saw on the ramparts was Piccotin himself. There was no mistaking him; you know the way he had of walking with a long stride, rising on his instep at every step, squaring his elbows, and turning his head from side to side, just to see if any one was pleased to smile, or even so much as to look closely at him. Ah, _ma foi!_ little Piccotin knew how to treat such as well as any one. Methinks I see him approaching his man with a slide and a bow, and then, taking off his cap, I hear him say, in his mildest tone, 'Monsieur a.s.suredly did not intend that stare and that grimace for me. I know I must have deceived myself. Monsieur is only a fool; he never meant to be impertinent.' Then, _parbleu!_ what a storm would come on, and how cool was Piccotin the whole time! How scrupulously timid he would be of misspelling the gentleman's name, or misplacing an accent over it! How delicately he would inquire his address, as if the curiosity was only pardonable I And then with what courtesy he would take his leave, retiring half a dozen paces before he ventured to turn his back on the man he was determined to kill next morning!"

"Quite true; perfectly true, Francois," said the major; "Piccotin did the thing with the most admirable temper and good-breeding."

"That was the tone of Chalons when we were both boys," said Francois, proudly; "he and I were reared together."

He finished a b.u.mper of wine as he made this satisfactory explanation, and looked round at the company with the air of a conqueror.

"Piccotin saw me as quickly as I perceived him, and the minute after we were in each other's arms. 'Ah! _mon cher!_ how many?' said he to me, as soon as the first burst of enthusiasm had subsided.

"'Only eighteen,' said I, sadly; 'but two were Mamelukes of the Guard.'

"'Thou wert ever fortunate, Francois,' he replied, wiping his eyes with emotion; 'I have never pinked any but Christians.'

"'Come, come,' said I, 'don't be down-hearted; good times are coming.

They say Le Pet.i.t Caporal will have us in England soon.'