A Romance of the West Indies Part 61

"You in this dress, madame! you whom I see after so many years! When I heard these children just now call each other James and Angela, my heart beat so strong! But I could not believe--hope--And the duke?"

The d.u.c.h.ess of Monmouth put one finger on her lips, shook her head sadly, and said: "You are going to see him! Alas! why should the pleasure of seeing you again be saddened by the sickness of James? Had it not been for this, to-day would have been beautiful for us."

"I can hardly recognize you again, madame; you, in this costume--in this sad condition."

"Silence! my children may hear you. But wait a moment here; I will go and prepare my husband to receive you."

After some minutes the adventurer entered Monmouth's room; the latter was extended on one of those green serge canopied beds such as may still be seen in the houses of some of the peasants.

Although he was emaciated by suffering, and was at that time more than fifty years old, the physiognomy of the duke showed the same gracious and high character.

Monmouth held out his hands affectionately to Croustillac, and indicating a chair at his bed, said to him: "Seat yourself there, my good friend. To what miraculous chance do we owe this happy meeting? I cannot believe my eyes! So, chevalier, we are reunited after more than eighteen years of separation. Ah! how often Angela and I have spoken of you and of your devoted generosity. Our regret was not being able to tell our children the debt of grat.i.tude that we owe you, and which they also owe you."

"Ah, well, my duke, consider what is most pressing," said the Gascon, "each in his turn."

So saying, he took his knife from his pocket, unfastened his coat, and gravely made a large incision in the lining.

"What are you doing?" asked the duke.

The chevalier drew from his secret pocket a kind of leathern purse, and said to the duke: "There is in this one hundred double-louis, your highness; on the other side there is as much. This is the first of my savings on my pay, and the price of the leg which I left the past year at the battle of Mohiloff, after the pa.s.sage of Beresina; for he was first, Peter the Great--well-named--in paying generously the soldiers of fortune who enrolled themselves in his service and who gave, many of them, the sacrifice of some one of their limbs."

"But, my friend, I do not understand you," said Monmouth, gently pushing away the purse which the adventurer tendered him.

"I will be explicit, my lord; you are in arrears to the amount of one hundred crowns of rent, and you are threatened with being turned out of this farm in eight days. It is a pot-bellied animal, bearded and corpulent, robed in the garb of a monk, who has made this threat to your poor, dear children but a short time since at the convent door."

"Alas, James! this is only too probable," said Angela, sadly, to her husband.

"I fear it," said Monmouth, "but this is not a reason, my friend, to accept----"

"But, my lord, it seems to me that you made me such a fine gift, it is now eighteen years ago, that we might well share it to-day; and when we speak of the past, in order to disembarra.s.s yourself at once of what concerns me, and to speak henceforth of your affairs at our ease, my lord, in two words, this is my history. Upon my arrival at Roch.e.l.le, Father Griffen told me that you had presented me the Unicorn and its cargo!"

"My G.o.d! my friend, this was such a small thing after all that you had done for us," said James.

"May we not at least recognize all that you have done for us?" said Angela.

"Without doubt, it was little--it was nothing at all--a cup of coffee well sugared, with rum to soften it, was it not? Only the cup was a ship, and to fill it there was coffee and sugar and rum, the cargo of a vessel of eight hundred tons--the whole worth two hundred thousand crowns. You are right--it was less than nothing--but in order to put aside useless discussion and to be frank, Zounds! this gift wounded me----"

"My friend----"

"I was paid by this medallion--speak no more of it. Besides, I have no longer the right to resent it; I made deed of gift of the whole to Father Griffen in order that he might in his turn give it to the poor, or to the convent, or to the devil if he chose to."

"Can it be possible that you refused it?" exclaimed both husband and wife.

"Yes, I did refuse it, and I am sure, my lord, although you pretend surprise, that you would have acted as I did. I was not already so rich in good works as not to keep the memory of Devil's Cliff pure and without stain. It was a costly luxury, perhaps, but I had been James of Monmouth twenty-four hours, and somewhat of my role of grand seigneur still clung to me."

"n.o.ble and excellent heart!" exclaimed Angela.

"But," said Monmouth, "you were so poor!"

"It is just because I am used to poverty and an adventurous life that that cost me nothing--I said to myself: 'Polypheme--consider! thou hast dreamed this night that thou wast worth two hundred thousand crowns.' I dreamed this dream--all has been said--and that did me good. Yes, often in Russia, when I was in misery--in distress--or when I was nailed to my pallet by a wound, I said to myself, to comfort and to rejoice me: 'After all, Polypheme, for once in thy life thou hast done something n.o.ble and generous.' Well, you may believe me, that restored my courage.

But this is boasting, and what is worse, it unmans me--let us return to my departure from Roch.e.l.le. I avow it to you and I thank you for it; nevertheless, I have profited a little by your generosity. As nothing remained to me of my three unlucky crowns, and that was a small sum to travel to Moscow on, I borrowed twenty-five louis from Master Daniel on the cargo; I paid my pa.s.sage on a Hamburg ship from Hamburg to Fallo; I embarked for Revel on a Swedish vessel; from Revel I went to Moscow; I arrived there like seafish in Lent; Admiral Lefort was recruiting a forlorn hope to reinforce the _polichnie_ of the czar; in other words, the first company of infantry equipped and maneuvering after the German mode which had existed in Russia. I had made the campaign in Flanders with the '_reiters_;' I knew the service; I was then enrolled in the _polichnie_ of the czar, and I had the honor of having this great man for file closer, for he served in this company as a simple soldier, seeing he had the habit of thinking that in order to know a trade it is necessary to learn it.

"Once incorporated in the Muscovite army, I served in all the wars. Do not think, my lord, that I am going to recount to you my campaigns, to speak to you of the siege of Azof, where I received a saber cut on my head; the taking of Astrakhan under Scheremetoff, where I received a lance thrust in my loins; of the siege of Narva, where I had the honor of aiming at his majesty, Charles XII., and the good fortune to miss him; and finally, the great battle of Dorpat.

"No, no, do not fear, my lord; I keep these fine stories to put your children to sleep with during the winter nights, in the chimney corner, when the seawinds rage in the branches of your old walnut trees. All that remains for me to say to you, my lord, is that I have made war ever since I left you, first as a noncommissioned officer, and then as lieutenant. I might have done it still, perhaps, if last year I had not forgotten one of my legs at Mohiloff. The czar generously gave me the capital of my pension, and I returned to France because, after all, it is there that one dies best--when one is born there; I went on foot, lounging along, regaining my paternal valley, lodging and sleeping in the abbeys to spare my purse, when chance--this time, no," said the chevalier, in a grave and penetrating tone which contrasted greatly with his ordinary language, "oh, this time, no--it was not chance, but the providence of the good G.o.d which caused me to meet with your children, my lord; they have brought me here; I fell back in a swoon on a heap of dry leaves on recognizing the d.u.c.h.ess, and here I am.

"Now, here is my plan--at least, if you consent to it, my lord. My paternal valley is very empty--my father and my mother are long since dead; I should wish, of all things, to establish myself near you.

Although lame, I am still good for something, if only to serve as a scarecrow to hinder the birds from eating your apples and cherries. I will forget that you are 'my lord:' I will call you 'Master James,' I will call the d.u.c.h.ess, 'Dame James,' your children shall call me Father Polypheme; I will tell them of my battles, and it will go on like that, _vitam aeternam_."

"Yes! yes! we accept; you shall never leave us," said James and Angela together, their eyes filled with tears.

"But on one condition," said the chevalier, drying his eyes also, "that is, that I, who am as proud as a peac.o.c.k, shall pay you, in advance, my board; and that you will accept from me these two hundred louis that you refused; total, six thousand livres; at five hundred francs a year, twelve of board. In twelve years we will make another lease."

"But, my friend----"

"But, my lord, it is yes or no. If it is yes, I remain, and I am more happy than I deserve to be. If it is no, I take again my stick, my wallet, and I start for the paternal valley, where I shall die, in a corner sadly and all alone, like an old dog who has lost his master."

Grotesque as were these words, they were spoken in a tone so full of emotion and so touching that the duke and his wife could not refuse the offer of the chevalier: "Well then, I accept."

"Hurrah!" cried Croustillac, in the voice of a stentor, and he accompanied this Muscovite exclamation by throwing into the air his old fur cap.

"Yes, I accept with all my heart, my old friend," said Monmouth, "and--why conceal it from you?--this unexpected succor which you offer us so generously, saves, perhaps, my life--saves, perhaps, my wife and children from misery, for this sum sets us afloat again, and we can brave two years as bad as those which have been the cause of our first embarra.s.sment. Fatigue, chagrin, fear for the future, have made me ill; now, tranquil as to the fate of my dear ones, a.s.sured of a friend like you--I am sure that my health will return to me."

"Zounds! my lord, how did it happen that, with the enormous amount of jewels that you had, you are reduced?"

"Angela will tell you that, my friend; emotion at once so keen and so sweet as I feel has fatigued me."

"After having left you on board of the Unicorn," said Angela "we set sail for Brazil; we sojourned there some time, but from prudence, we resolved to depart for India on board a Portuguese vessel. We had lived three years in this little-known country, very happy and very tranquil, when I fell seriously ill. One of the best physicians in Bombay declared that the climate of India would become fatal to me; my native air alone could save me. You know how James loves me; it was impossible for me to alter his resolution; he chose at all hazards to return to Europe, to France, in spite of the dangers that threatened him. We started from the Cape in a Dutch ship, making sail for the Texel. We possessed a very considerable sum coming from the sale of our jewels. Our voyage was very fortunate as far as the coast of France, but there a terrible tempest a.s.sailed us. After losing her masts, and being beaten about by the waves for three days, our ship went ash.o.r.e on the coast a quarter of a league from here; by a miracle of Heaven, James and I alone escaped an almost certain death. Several of the pa.s.sengers were, like us, cast on the beach during this horrible night--all perished. I repeat to you, my friend, that a miracle from Heaven was necessary to save us, James and me--to save me especially, ill as I was. The tenants whom we replaced on this farm found us almost dying on the sh.o.r.e; they brought us here. The ship was swallowed up with all our riches; James, occupied solely with me, had forgotten all; we no longer possessed anything; I was an orphan with no fortune; James could not apply to any one without being recognized.

"What remained to us in Martinique had, without doubt, been confiscated--and then, how could we claim this property? For all resource there remained to us a ring which I wore on my finger at the time of the ship-wreck; we intrusted it to the tenants of this farm, who had received us, to sell the diamond at Abbeville; they got for it about four thousand livres--that was all our store. My health was so affected that we were obliged to stop here; this measure, besides reconciled both prudence and economy; the farmers were good, full of cares for us.

"Little by little my health became re-established. Almost without resources we thought of the future with terror; however, we were young, misfortune had redoubled our love; the simple, obscure, peaceable life of our hosts impressed us; they were old, without children; we proposed to them to take the half of their farm, and to make our apprenticeship under their direction, avowing to them that we had no other resources than the four thousand livres that we would share with them. Touched with our position, these good people wished at first to dissuade us from this project, representing to us how hard and laborious this life was. I insisted; I felt myself full of courage and strength; James had lived a hard life too long not to accustom himself to that of the fields. We accomplished our design; I was tranquil about James. Who would seek the Duke of Monmouth in an obscure farm in Picardy? At the end of two years we had finished our apprenticeship, thanks to the lessons and teaching of our good forerunners; their little fortune, augmented by our four thousand livres, was sufficient. They made an agreement with the treasurer of the abbey that we should succeed them and we take the entire farm."

"Ah, madame, what resignation! what energy!" cried the chevalier.

"Ah, if you knew, my friend," said Monmouth, "with what admirable serenity of soul, with what gentle gayety Angela endured his rough life--she, accustomed to a life of luxury!--if you knew how she always knew how to be gracious, elegant, and charming, all the while superintending the affairs of the household with admirable activity!--if you knew in fine, what strength I drew from this brave and devoted heart; from this gentle regard always fixed upon me with an admirable expression of happiness and content precarious as was our position! Ah, who will ever recompense this beautiful conduct?"

"My friend," said Angela tenderly, "has not G.o.d blessed our laborious and peaceful life? Has He not sent us two little angels to change our duties into pleasures? What shall I say to you?" resumed Angela, addressing the chevalier; "for the almost sixteen years that this uniform life has lasted, of which each day has brought its bread, as the good folks say, never a chagrin had come to trouble it, when, in the past year, a bad harvest hampered us very much. We were obliged to discharge two of our farm hands for economy's sake. James redoubled his efforts and his work, his strength gave out; he took to his bed; our small resources were exhausted. A bad year, you see, for poor farmers,"

said Angela, smiling softly, "is terrible. In short, without you, I do not know how we could have escaped the fate which threatened us, for the Abbot of St. Quentin is inflexible toward tenants in arrears, and yet it was our pride to pay him always a term in advance. One hundred crowns--as much as that--and a hundred crowns, chevalier, are not easily gotten together."

"A hundred crowns? That does not pay for the embroidery on a baldric,"

said James with a melancholy smile. "Ah, how many times, in experiencing what misfortune is, have I regretted the good I might have done."

"Listen, my lord," said Croustillac gravely, "I am no devotee. Just now I came near shaking a monk out of his robes; I committed irregularities during my campaign in Moravia, but I am sure there is One above Who does not lose sight of honest people. Now, it is impossible that after nineteen years of work and resignation, now when you grow old, with two beautiful children, you should dream of remaining at the mercy of an avaricious monk or a year of frost. In listening to you, an idea has come to me. If I was the boaster of old, I should say that it was an idea from above; but I wholly believe that it is a fortunate idea. What has become of Father Griffen?"

"We do not know; we did not return to Martinique."

"He belongs to the order of Preaching Friars; he must be at the end of the world," said Monmouth.