Tom Burke Of "Ours" Volume Ii Part 29

"Let me speak with you, in the picture-gallery, in half an hour."

Before I could utter my a.s.sent she had pa.s.sed on, and was speaking to another.

Somewhat curious to conceive what Mademoiselle de Lacostellerie might mean by her appointment in the gallery, I avoided the groups where I perceived my acquaintances were, and strolled negligently on towards the place of meeting. The gallery was but half lighted, as was customary on mere nights of visiting, and I found it quite deserted. I was sauntering slowly along, musing on the strange effects of the half-seen pictures, where all, save the most forcible and striking tints, were sombred down to blackness, when I heard a step behind me. I turned my head, and saw mademoiselle herself. She was alone, and, though she evidently had seen me, continued to walk onward, without speaking, towards a small boudoir, which occupied one angle of the gallery. I followed, and we entered it together.

There was something in the secret interview which, while it excited my curiosity, served at once to convince me that had I indulged in any hope of succeeding to her affections, nothing could be less promising,--this very proof of her confidence was the strongest earnest of her indifference. But, indeed, I had never any such expectation. My pride might have been flattered by such a supposition; my heart could never have sympathized in the emotion.

"We are alone here," said she, hurriedly, "and we may be missed; so let me be brief. It will seem strange that I should ask you to meet me here, but I could not help it. You alone, of all who frequent this, have never paid me the least attention, nor seemed disposed to flatter me; this leads me to trust you. I have no other reason but that, and because I am friendless." There was a tremulous sadness in the last word which went to my heart, and I could mark that her breathing was hurried and irregular for some few seconds after. "Will you promise me your friendship in what I ask? or, if that be too much, will you pledge yourself at least to secrecy? Enough, I am quite satisfied. Now, tell me, who is this Chevalier d.u.c.h.esne?--what is he?"

I ran over in a few words all I knew of him, dwelling on whatever might most redound to his credit; his distinguished military career, his undoubted talent, and, lastly, alluding to his family, to which I conceived the question might most probably apply.

"Oh, it is not that," said she, vehemently, "I wish to know. I care not for his bravery, nor his birth either. Tell me, what are the sources of his power? How is he admitted everywhere, intimate with every one, with influence over all? Why does Fouche fear, and Talleyrand admit him? I know they do this; and can you give me no clew, however faint, to guide me? The Comte de Lacostellerie was refused the Spanish contract; d.u.c.h.esne interferes, and it is given him. There is a difficulty about a card for a private concert at St. Cloud; d.u.c.h.esne sends it. Nor does it end here. _You_ know"--here her voice a.s.sumed a forced distinctness, as though it cost her an effort to speak calmly--"of his duel with the Prince Dobretski; but perhaps you may not know how he has obtained an imperial order for his recall to St. Petersburg?"

"Of that I never heard. Can it be possible?"

"Have you, then, never tasted of his arbitrary power," said she, smiling half superciliously, "that these things seem strange to you? or does he work so secretly that even those most intimate with him are in ignorance? But this must be so." She paused for a second or two, and then went on: "And now, brief as our acquaintance with him has been, see what influence he already possesses over my mother! Even to her I dare not whisper my suspicions; while to you, a stranger," added she, with emotion, "I must speak my fears."

"But are they not groundless?" said I, endeavoring to calm the agitation she suffered from. "In all that you have mentioned, I can but trace the devotion of one seeking to serve, not injure; to be loved, not dreaded."

Scarce had I said these words, when I heard a noise behind me, and before I could turn round, d.u.c.h.esne stood beside us.

"I implore your pardon, Mademoiselle," said he, in a voice of well-affected timidity, "nor should I venture to interrupt so interesting a conference, but that the Comtesse de Lacostellerie had sent me to look for you."

"You could scarcely have come more apropos, sir. The conversation was entirely of yourself," said she, haughtily, as if in defiance of him.

"How could I possibly have merited so great an honor, Mademoiselle?"

replied he, bowing with the deepest respect; "or is it to the kindness of a _friend_ I am indebted for such interest?"

There was an evident sneer in the way he uttered the word "friend,"

while a sidelong glance he gave beneath his deep eyelashes was still more decisive of his feeling.

"Few probably owe more to their friends than the Chevalier d.u.c.h.esne,"

said mademoiselle, tauntingly, as she took my arm to return to the _salon_.

"True, most true!" replied he, with a low and deferential bow; "and I hope I am not the man to forget my debts to either friends or enemies."

I turned round rapidly as he said this. Our eyes met, and we exchanged a short, brief glance of open defiance. His, however, as quickly changed; and an easy smile of careless indifference succeeded, as he lounged after us towards the _salon_, where now a considerable number of persons were a.s.sembled, and a more than usual excitement prevailed. Some generals of the imperial staff were also there; and the rumor ran that the negotiations with England had been suddenly interrupted, and that the negotiators had demanded their pa.s.sports.

"That is not all, Madame," said an old officer to the countess. "The accounts from Mayence are threatening. Large bodies of Prussian troops are reported on the march from the eastward. The telegraph has been actively at work since noon, and several couriers have been sent off from the War Office."

"What is to come next?" said the countess, sighing, as she thought of Paris once more deserted by its gay Court and brilliant crowd of officers, the only society of the period.

"What next, Madame?" said d.u.c.h.esne, taking up the word. "_Parbleu!_ the thing is easily told. A conscription, a march, a bivouac, and a battle will form act the first. Then a victory; and a bulletin and an imperial edict, showing that Prussia, both by her language and geographical position, was intended by Providence to belong to France; that Prussians have no dearer wish than to be thrashed and taxed,--the honor of becoming a portion of the Grande Nation being an ample recompense for any misfortune."

"And so it is, Monsieur," broke in a bluff, hard-featured veteran, whose coa.r.s.e and weather-beaten traits bespoke one risen from the ranks; "he is no Frenchman who says otherwise."

"To your good health, Colonel," said d.u.c.h.esne, as he lifted a gla.s.s of champagne to his lips. "Such patriotism is really refreshing in our degenerate days. I wish you every success in your campaign; though what is to reward your valor in that miserable land of beer and Protestantism I cannot possibly conceive."

"To-morrow; let me see you to-morrow, in the afternoon." said mademoiselle, in a whisper, as she pa.s.sed close to me.

As I nodded in acknowledgment, d.u.c.h.esne turned slightly around, and I saw in his eyes he had overheard the words, though uttered in a mere whisper. Still he went on,--

"As for us who remain ingloriously behind you, we have nothing to do but to read your exploits in the 'Moniteur.' And would to Heaven the worthy editor would print his battles in better fashion! The whole page usually looks more like a beaten than a conquering army; wounded vowels and broken consonants at every step, and the capital letters awkward, hard-featured fellows, as though risen from the ranks."

"_Tonnerre de Dieu_, sir! do you mean an insult to me?" said the old colonel, in a voice which, though intended for a whisper, was heard over the whole circle.

"An insult, my dear colonel? nothing within a thousand leagues of such. I was only speaking of the 'type' of our army, which may be very efficient, but is scarcely too good-looking."

No words can convey the sarcastic tone in which the speech was delivered, nor the mortification of the indignant colonel, who felt, but knew not how to reply to, such a taunt. Happily Madame de Lacostellerie interposed, and by skilfully changing the topic of conversation, averted further unpleasantness.

My desire to learn something accurately as to the state of events made me anxious to reach my quarters, and I took the first opportunity of quitting the _salon_. As I pa.s.sed through the outer room, d.u.c.h.esne was standing against a sideboard, holding a gla.s.s in his hand. It was necessary that I should pa.s.s him closely, and I was preparing to salute him with the distant courtesy of our present acquaintance, when he said, in his former tone of easy raillery,--

"Going so early? Won't you have a gla.s.s of wine before you leave?"

"No, I thank you," said I, coldly, and going on towards the door.

"Nor wait for the concert; Gra.s.sini will be here in half an hour?"

I shook my head in negation; and as I pa.s.sed out I heard him humming, with an emphasis which there was no mistaking, the couplet of a popular song of the day which concluded thus,--

"To-day for me; To-morrow for thee,--But will that to-morrow ever be?"

That d.u.c.h.esne intended to challenge me seemed now almost certain; and I ran over in my mind the few names of those I could ask to be my friends on such an occasion, but without being able to satisfy myself on the subject. A moment's recollection might have taught me that it was a maxim with the chevalier never to send a message, but in every case to make the adversary the aggressor; he had told me so over and over himself. That, however, did not occur to me at the moment, and I walked onward, thinking of our meeting. Could I have known what was pa.s.sing in _his_ mind, I should have spared many serious and some sad thoughts to my own.

CHAPTER XX. A SUDDEN DEPARTURE

So firmly had I persuaded myself, on my way homeward, that d.u.c.h.esne intended a duel with me, that I dreamed of it all night, and awoke in the morning perfectly convinced that the event was prearranged between us. Now, although the habits of the service I lived in had, in a great measure, blunted the feelings I once entertained towards duelling, still enough of detestation of the practice remained to make my antic.i.p.ations far from satisfactory; besides, I knew that d.u.c.h.esne had in reality no cause of quarrel with me, but from misapprehension alone could demand a meeting, which our military code of honor always decided should be accepted first, and inquired into afterwards. I regretted also, and deeply too, that I should appear to his eyes in an unworthy part, as though betraying the interests he had confided to me.

There were, as I have said, many things I liked not in the chevalier: the insatiable desire he felt for revenge where he had once been injured; the spirit of intrigue he cherished; and, perhaps more than either, I shunned the scoffing habit he had of depreciating what every one around him loved or respected,--of stripping off every illusion which made life valuable, and reducing to the miserable standard of mere selfish gratification all that was great, or n.o.ble, or venerable.

Already had his evil influence done me injury in this way. Even now I felt, that of the few daydreams I once indulged in he had robbed me of the best, and reduced me to the sad reflection which haunted me throughout my whole career, and imbittered every pa.s.sing enjoyment of my life: I mean, the sorrowful thought of being an alien, of having but the hireling's part in that career of glory which others followed; that I alone could have no thrill of patriotism, when all around me were exulting in its display; that I had neither home nor country! Oh! if they who feel, or fancy that they feel, the wrongs and oppressions of misgovernment at home,--who, with high aspirations after liberty and holy thoughts for the happiness of their fellow-men, war against the despotism which would repress the one or the cruelty which would despise the other; if they could only foresee, that in changing allegiance they did but shift the burden, not rid themselves of the load; that the service of a foreign land is no requital for the loss of every feeling which ties a man to kindred and to friends,--which links his manhood with his youth, his age with both,--which gives him, in the language of his forefathers, a sympathy with the land that bore them; if they could know and feel these things; if they could learn how, in surrendering them, they have made themselves such mere waifs and strays upon life's ocean that objects of purely selfish and personal advancement must be to them for evermore in place of the higher and more enn.o.bling thoughts which mix with other men's ambitions: they might hesitate ere they left home and country to fight for the cause of the stranger.

If such thoughts found entrance into _my_ heart, how must they have dwelt in many another's? I, who had neither family nor kindred,--who from earliest childhood had never tasted the sweets of affection nor known the blessings of a father's love; and yet scarce a day crept by without some thought of the far-away land of my birth,--some memory of its hills and valleys, of its green banks and changeful skies: and in my dreams, some long-forgotten air would bring me back in memory to the cottier's fireside, where around the red blazing turf were seated the poor but happy peasantry, beguiling the time with song or story,--now telling of the ancient greatness of their country, now breathing a hope of its one day prosperity.

"Captain Burke's quarters?" said a voice without. At the same instant, the jingling of spurs and the clank of a sabre bespoke the questioner as a soldier. My door opened, and an officer in the full dress of the staff entered. As I requested him to be seated, I already antic.i.p.ated the object of his visit, which he seemed determined to open in most diplomatic fashion; for, the first salutations over, he began coolly to ransack his sabretasche, and search among a heap of papers which crowded it.

"Ah! here it is," said he at length. "I ask your pardon for all this delay. But, of course, you guess the reason of my being here?"

"I must confess I suspect it," said I, with a smile.

"Oh, that I am certain of. These things never are secrets very long; nor, for my part, do I think there is any need they should be. I conclude you are quite prepared?"

"You shall find me so."

"So the minister said," replied he; while, once more, his eyes were buried in the recesses of the sabretasche, leaving me in the most intense astonishment at the last few words. That the minister, whoever he might be, should know of, and, as it seemed, acquiesce in my fighting a duel, was a puzzle I could make nothing of.

"Here is the note I looked for," said he as he took forth a small slip of paper, written on both sides. "May I beg you will take down the details; they are brief, but important."