Arthur O'Leary Part 49

The dreadful issue of the expedition would, I well knew, have ruined more prosperous careers than mine in that service, where want of success was the greatest of all crimes. Careless of my fate, I lived on in gloomy apathy, not one gleam of hope or comfort to shine upon the darkness of my misery.

'This brooding melancholy took entire possession of me, and I took no note of the scenes around me. My ear was long since accustomed to the sad sounds of the sickbeds; the cries of suffering, and the low moanings of misery had ceased to move me; even the wild and frantic ravings of the wounded man near broke not in upon my musings, and I lived like one immured within a solitary dungeon.

'I lay thus one night--my sadness and gloom weightier than ever on my broken spirits--listening to the echoed sounds of suffering that rose into the vaulted roof, and wishing for death to call me away from such a scene of misery, when I heard the low chanting of a priest coming along the aisle; and the moment after the footsteps of several persons came near, and then two acolytes, carrying lighted tapers, appeared, followed by a venerable man robed in white, and bearing in his hands a silver chalice. Two other priests followed him, chanting the last service, and behind all there came a female figure dressed in deep mourning; she was tall and graceful-looking, and her step had the firm tread of youth, but her head was bowed down with sorrow, and she held her veil pressed closely over her face. They gathered round the bed of the wounded man, and the priest took hold of his hand and lifted it slowly from the bed; and letting it go, it fell heavily down again, with a dull sound. The old man bent over the bed, touched the pale features, and gazed into the eyes, and then with clasped hands he sank down on his knees and prayed aloud; the others knelt beside him--all save one; she threw herself with frantic grief upon the dead body (for he was dead) and wept pa.s.sionately. In vain they strove to calm her sorrow, or even withdraw her from the spot. She clung madly to it, and would not be induced to leave it.

'I think I see her still before me--her long hair, black as night, streaming back from her pale forehead,'and hanging down her shoulders; her eyes fixed on the dead man's face, and her hands pressed hard upon her heart, as if to lull its agony. In all the wild transport of her grief she was beautiful; for although pale to sickness, and worn with watching, her large and l.u.s.trous eyes, her nose straight and finely chiselled like the features of an antique cameo, and her mouth, where mingled pride and sorrow trembled, gave her an expression of loveliness I cannot convey. Such was she, as she watched beside her brother's death-bed day and night, silent and motionless; for as the first burst of grief was over she seemed to nerve her courage to the task; and even when the hour came, and they bore the body away to its last resting-place, not a sigh or sob escaped her.

'The vacant spot--though it had been tenanted by suffering and misery--brought gloom to my heart. I had been accustomed each day to look for him at sunrise, and each evening to see him as the light of day declined; and I sorrowed like one deserted and alone. Not all alone!

for, as if by force of habit, when evening came, _she_ was at her place near the altar.

'The fever, and my own anxious thoughts, preyed on my mind that night; and as I lay awake I felt parched and hot, and wished to drink, and I endeavoured with my only arm to reach the cup beside me. She saw the effort, and sprang towards me at once; and as she held it to my lips, I remembered then that often in the dreary nights of my sickness I had seen her at my bedside, nursing me and tending me. I muttered a word of grat.i.tude in German, when she started suddenly, and stooping down, said in a clear accent--

'"Bist du ein Deutscher (Are you a German)?"

'"Yes," said I, mournfully, for I saw her meaning.

'"Shame! shame!" cried she, holding up her hands in horror. "If the wolves ravage the flocks it is but their nature; but that our own kindred, our very flesh and blood, should do this----"

'I turned my head away in very sorrow and self-abas.e.m.e.nt, and a convulsive sob burst from my heart.

'"Nay, nay, not so," said she, "a poor peasant like me cannot judge what motives may have influenced you and others like you; and after all," and she spoke the words in a trembling voice--"and after all, you succoured _him_ when you believed him sick and weary."

'"I! how so? It never was in my power----"

'"Yes, yes," cried she, pa.s.sionately; "it was you. This _gourde_ was yours; he told me so; he spoke of you a hundred times." And at the instant, she held up the little flask I had given to the pilgrim in the valley.

'"And was the pilgrim then----"

'"Yes," said she, as a proud flash lit up her features, "he was my brother; many a weary mile he wandered over mountain and moor to track you; faint and hungry, he halted not, following your footsteps from the first hour you entered our land. Think you but for him that you had been spared that nights slaughter, or that for any cause but his a Tyrolese girl had watched beside your sick-bed, and prayed for your recovery?"

'The whole truth now flashed upon me; every circ.u.mstance doubtful before became at once clear to my mind, and I eagerly asked the fate of my comrades.

'A gloomy shake of the head was the only reply.

'"All?" said I, trembling at the word.

'"All!" repeated she, in an accent whose pride seemed almost amounting to ferocity.

'"Would I had perished with them!" cried I, in the bitterness of my heart, and I turned my face away and gave myself up to my grief.

'As if sorry for the burst of feeling she had caused me, she sat down beside my bed, took my hand in hers, and placed her cold lips upon it, while she murmured some words of comfort. Like water to the seared, parched lips of some traveller in the desert, the accents fell upon my almost broken heart, suggesting a thought of hope where, all was darkness and despair, I listened to each word with a tremulous fear lest she should cease to speak, and dreading that my ecstasy were but a dream. From that hour, I wished to live; a changed spirit came over me, and I felt as though with higher and more enn.o.bling thoughts I should once more tread the earth. Yes, from the humble lips of a peasant girl I learned to feel that the path I once deemed the only road to heroism and high ambition could be but "the bandit's trade," who sells his blood for gain. That war which animated by high-souled patriotism can call forth every sentiment of a great and generous nature, becomes in an unjust cause the lowest slavery and degradation. Lydchen seldom quitted my bedside, for my malady took many turns, and it was long--many months--after that I was enabled to leave my bed and move up and down the chapel.

'Meanwhile the successes of our army had gradually reduced the whole country beneath French rule, and except in the very fastnesses of the mountains the Tyrolese had nowhere they could call their own. Each day some peasant would arrive from the valleys with information that fresh troops were pouring in from Germany, and the hopes of the patriotic party fell lower and lower. At last one evening as I sat on the steps of the little altar, listening to Lydchen reading for me some Tyrol legend, a wild shout in the street of the village attracted our notice, which seemed to gain strength as it came nearer. She started up suddenly, and throwing down her book rushed from the chapel. In another moment she was back beside me, her face pale as a corpse, and her limbs trembling with fear.

'"What has happened? Speak, for G.o.d's sake! what is it?" said I.

'"The French have shot the prisoners in the Platz at Innspruck!

twenty-eight have fallen this morning," cried she, "seven from this very village; and now they cry aloud for your blood; hear them, there!"

'And as she spoke a frightful yell hurst from the crowd without, and already they stood at the entrance to the chapel, which even at such a time they had not forgotten was a sanctuary. The very wounded men sat up in their beds and joined their feeble cries to those without, and the terrible shout of "blood for blood!" rang through the vaulted roof.

'"I am ready," said I, springing up from the low step of the altar.

"They must not desecrate this holy spot with such a crime. I am ready to go where you will."

'"No, no," cried Lydchen; "you are not like our enemies. You wish us naught of evil; your heart is with the struggle of a brave people, who fight but for their homes and Fatherland. Be of us, then; declare that you are with us. Oh, do this, and these will be your brothers and I your sister; ay, more than sister ever was."

'"It cannot be; no, never," said I; "it is not when life is in the balance that fealty can change."

'With difficulty I freed myself from the clasp of her arms, for in her grief she had thrown herself at my feet, when suddenly we heard the deep accents of the aged priest, as he stood upon the steps of the altar, and commanded silence. His tones were those of severity and sternness, and I could mark that not a murmur was raised as he continued.

'"You are safe," whispered Lydchen; "till to-morrow you are safe; before that you must be far away."

'The respite of the priest was merely to give me time to prepare for death, which it was decreed I should suffer the following morning in the Platz of the village.

'Scarcely had evening begun to fall when Lydchen approached my bed and deposited a small bundle upon it, whispering gently, "Lose no time; put on these clothes, and wait for my return."

'The little chapelry where I lay communicated by a small door with the dwelling of the priest, and by her pa.s.sing through this I saw that the father was himself conniving at the plan of my escape. By the imperfect glimmer of the fading day I could perceive that they were her brother's clothes she had brought me; the jacket was yet stained with his blood. I was long in equipping myself, with my single arm, and I heard her voice more than once calling to me to hasten, ere I was ready.

'At length I arose, and pa.s.sing through the door entered the priest's house, where Lydchen, dressed in hat and mantle, stood ready for the road. As I endeavoured to remonstrate she pressed her hand on my mouth, and walking on tiptoe led me forward; we emerged into a little garden, crossing which she opened a wicket that led into the road. There a peasant was in waiting, who carried a small bundle on his shoulder, and was armed with the long staff used in mountain travelling. Again, making a sign for me to be silent, she moved on before me, and soon turning off the road entered a foot-track in the mountain. The fresh breeze of the night and the sense of liberty nerved me to exertion, and I walked on till day was breaking. Our path generally lay in a descending direction, and I felt little fatigue, when at sunrise Lydchen told me that we might rest for some hours, as our guide could now detect the approach of any party for miles round, and provide for our concealment. No pursuit, however, was undertaken in that direction, the peasants in all likelihood deeming that I would turn my steps towards Lahn, where a strong French garrison was stationed; whereas we were proceeding in the direction of Saltzbourg, the very longest and therefore the least likely route through the Tyrol.

'Day succeeded day, and on we went. Not one living thing did we meet on our lonely path. Already our little stock of provisions was falling low, when we came in sight of the hamlet of Altendorf, only a single day's march from the lake of Saltzbourg. The village, though high in the mountain, lay exactly beneath us as we went, and from the height we stood on we could see the little streets of the town and its market-place like a map below us. Scarcely had the guide thrown his eyes downwards than he stopped short, and pointing to the town, cried out "The French! the French!" and true enough, a large party of infantry were bivouacked in the streets, and several horses were picketed in the gardens about. While the peasant crept cautiously forward to inspect the place nearer, I stood beside Lydchen, who, with her hands pressed closely on her face, spoke not a word.

'"We part here!" said she, with a strong, full accent, as though determined to let no weakness appear in her words.

'"Part, Lydchen!" cried I, in an agony; for up to that moment I believed that she never intended returning to the Tyrol.

'"Yes. Thinkest thou that I hold so light my home and country as thou dost? Didst thou believe that a Tyrol girl would live 'midst those who laid waste her Fatherland, and left herself an orphan, without one of her kindred remaining?"

'"Are there no ties save those of blood, Lydchen? Is your heart so steeled against the stranger that the devotion, the worship, of a life long would not move you from your purpose?"

'"Thou hast refused me once," said she proudly; "I offered to be all your own when thou couldst have made me so with honour. If thou wert the Kaiser Franz, I would not have thee now."

'"Oh, speak not thus, Lydchen, to him whose life you saved, and made him feel that life is a blessing! Remember that if _your_ heart be cold to me, you have made _mine_ your own for ever. I will not leave you.

No----"

'"Is it that thou mayst bring me yonder and show me amongst thy comrades--the Tyrol maiden that thou hast captured, thy spoil of war?"

'"Oh, Lydchen, dearest, why will you speak thus----"

'"Never!" cried she, as her eyes flashed proudly, and her cheek flushed red, "never! I have the blood of Hofer in my veins; and bethinkest thou I would stoop to be a jest, a mockery, before thy high-born dames, who would not deem me fit to be their waiting-woman? Farewell, sir. I hoped to part with thee less in anger than in sorrow."

'"Then I will remain," said I.

'"Too late, too late!" cried she, waving her hand mournfully; "the hour is past. See, there come your troops; a moment more, and I shall be taken. You wish not this, at least----"

'As she spoke, a cavalry detachment was seen coming up the valley at a canter. A few minutes more and she would be discovered. I knew too well the ruffian natures of the soldiery to hazard such a risk. I caught her to my arms with one last embrace, and the next moment dashed down the path towards the dragoons. I turned my head once, but she was gone; the peasant guide had left the breach of the chasm, and they both were lost to my view.

'My story is now soon told. I was tried by a court-martial, honourably acquitted, and restored to my grade--_en retraite_, however, for my wound had disabled me from active service. For three years I lived in retirement near Mayence, the sad memory of one unhappy event embittering every hour of my life.